#you may also call them city writers

[cto10121]

how is jk rowling closer to dickens than donna tartt?

Rowling, like Dickens, is supremely devoted to social realism, which includes comedy, satire, and commentary. So naturally she also uses his techniques (significant character names, child POV with adult sensibility, etc.) and sometimes even tropes (abused orphan boy, mean relatives, relative and abject poverty, snobbery and classism, etc.). This is most glaringly apparent in the Strike series, to the point where they are more like sociological tomes than mysteries, but Harry Potter also fits the Dickensian mode very comfortably.

The difference is that Dickens was not really a mystery writer, whereas Rowling is, at least in plot. Also, Dickens had a much more visceral experience with poverty and institutional injustice than Rowling; there is a lack of that both-sides centrism in Dickens. He was also more influenced by Shakespearean psychology and tropes than Rowling. Rowling, however, was much more aware of white supremacy than Dickens could ever be—her understanding of class struggle includes colorism (Voldemort and some of the Death Eaters especially are aristocratically coded to the extreme - all those Anglo-Norman names! Revealingly, none of them are POC).

As for Donna Tartt, from the two (very popular) books I’ve read by her, she only uses Dickensian tropes for quasi-mythic and romantic journeys; they are largely empty of their political and social commentary, almost serving as mere literary allusions. Above all, she seems mostly concerned with the power of art, literary or otherwise.

[little-diable]

Midnight Hotline - Dean Winchester (smut)

After meeting Jensen Ackles this weekend, I simply needed to write a Dean drabble. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: For weeks now, Dean has been calling the Midnight Hotline to speak to Lilith, a stranger he has fallen in love with while sharing his secrets and confessions. And now as they are in the same city, it’s finally time to meet.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), strangers to lovers

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.7k words)

“Midnight Hotline, this is Lilith speaking.” Her voice rang in his ears, instantly drawing a smile to his lips. He had to clear his throat before speaking up, sinking further into the leather seat as his eyes stared down on the city.  

“Hi, Lilith. It’s me.” The chuckle rumbling through her made his heart skip a beat. A by now all too familiar warmth began to spread through him, instantly distracting him from the grim feeling he hadn’t been able to shake. 

“Bobby! I was waiting for your call.” He still wasn’t used to the name he had given her weeks ago, knowing that he couldn’t share any personal details with the voice on the other end of the line. Dean hadn’t given the name much thought, it had instantly come to mind to comfort himself when he needed strength to move on. Strength only she managed to give him lately - her, the voice of a woman he didn’t know. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was busy, but I missed talking to you.” The words rolled off Dean’s tongue before he could stop them, trying to ignore the heat now spreading through his cheeks. He fumbled with the zip of his leather jacket, needing to find something he could use to distract himself from the sensations her voice pushed through him.

“Oh, I missed you too! Were you travelling again?” A deep hum left Dean while he wondered how she wore her hair today, what she wore and how she was feeling now, talking to him. Weeks ago he had asked her for a description of herself, it hadn’t been much, besides her hair and eye color, and yet it had been enough to shoot shudders down his spine. 

“I was, I’m in Colorado now.” Her breath shuddered as she exhaled, making him awfully aware of the silence that followed his words. Dean counted the passing by seconds, only allowing the sound of Lilith clearing her throat to interrupt him. 

“I’m also in Colorado.” She whispered the words, making Dean awfully aware of the thoughts now seemingly racing through her mind. 

Could this be their chance? Could this be the moment to break all rules she had once sworn to follow? 

“Where are you at, sweetheart?” Once again she mumbled the reply, leaving Dean to swallow heavily as he stared down at the city whose name she had just dropped. For a moment, he pondered over his choices, wondering if he should go ahead and follow the call of his heart to finally meet the woman who called herself Lilith, or if he should stay away like his mind begged him to. 

“When does your shift end?” His question was met with silence. Perhaps he had gone too far, perhaps she didn’t want to meet him like he desperately wanted to meet her. But the shaky giggle leaving her told Dean all he needed to know. She wanted this as much as he did, bound together by the past weeks, aching to finally meet after imagining the other since their first call. 

“Are we really doing this?” She kept her voice small, seemingly wondering herself if this was a good idea. Dean’s tongue rang along his lower lip, buying his racing heart a few more seconds before speaking up again. 

“We sure as hell are, sweetheart. Where should I pick you up?” 

……

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he had been this nervous. This had something so unfamiliar to it, he had to force his body to stay right there and not to run like he wanted to. For the first time since he could remember, Dean began to doubt the way he may come across, wondering if she felt the same draw he had been trying to swallow and bury six feet under for a while now.

But before he could rerun all the things he wanted to say to her again, the sound of somebody nearing ripped his focus from his phone. He was leaning against Baby, wrapped in his dark jacket to try and shield himself from the cold air of the night, sensations that were forgotten the second his eyes met hers. 

Dean could instantly tell that it was her, carrying a soft smile that made him forget everything around him. His heart was in his throat, pounding louder than it had ever before - all while watching her approach. He allowed his eyes to take her in, wandering up and down her frame, just like hers did with him. Fuck, she was even prettier than he had imagined her to be, a woman so gorgeous, Dean wasn’t sure if he was under some spell, toying with his vision. 

“Bobby?” The sound of her voice forced all darkening thoughts into the back of his mind, purely focused on her. He nodded his head while reaching his hand out for her to take, set on pulling her in for a hug. The scent of her perfume washed through him, forcing Dean’s mind to cling to it with the silent promise of remembering this for the rest of his life. 

Her arms found their way around his middle, letting her head rest against his chest as he hugged her. No word was shared between them, letting their minds catch up with what was happening - something they had been dreaming of and longing for ever since their first call. 

“Hi,” she softly mumbled the word, looking up at him with eyes that seemed to uncover his every secret, instantly leaving Dean breathless. He couldn’t stop his hand from cupping her warm cheek, letting his thumb trace her soft skin as he repeated the word. 

“You’re even more handsome than I imagined you to be.” Her voice didn’t carry much strength as she spoke, just enough to draw a soft blush to his cold cheeks. 

“Well, seems like we got something in common there, you’re gorgeous, sweetheart.” Her smile grew wider at his compliment, keeping her focus on him as she slowly loosened her grip on him. But Dean didn’t let go of her just yet, needing to feel her close for as long as possible. “My real name’s Dean, I’m sorry for keeping that from you.” 

Her laugh left him grinning, watching her shake her head while moving closer once again, “Nice to meet you, Dean. I’m (y/n).” 

Dean had to force himself to snap out of his hazy state, wanting to cross the small distance between them to taste her name on his tongue for the first time before kissing her. But even though his heart urged him on to move, he fought against it, at least for now.

“Are you hungry? Or you want to go for a drink?” She studied him for a handful of seconds, unable to bite down her growing grin. 

“How about you come over to mine? I have some beer at home.” 

……

“Here you go.” She gave Dean a bottle of beer before sitting down next to him, letting her eyes take in every inch of his handsome features. The whole thing felt like a dream, something that was entirely too good to be true, and yet (y/n) tried to cherish every second, not daring to break away from him. “This still feels surreal. What are you even doing around here?”

She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he took a few sips of beer, buying himself some time before clearing his throat. Dean had his arm placed on the couch, resting behind her to keep (y/n) somewhat close without touching her, just enough closeness to give her the opportunity to shuffle closer and rest against him. A draw both were held hostage by, unable to fight against it. 

“My brother and I had some work stuff to do around here.” A hum left her, eyes fully focused on Dean and the soft smile playing on his lips. She could marvel at him for hours, getting lost in the green pupils that told stories she wanted to uncover one by one, learning everything about the man she had developed a crush on without even seeing him. 

“So, you will leave soon again, won’t you?” He placed the bottle down before fully turning towards her, hand finding her shoulder to let his fingers run along her skin. A sombre feeling began to stretch through the two of them, knowing that their time together wasn’t long and would end sooner than both liked. Dean nodded his head, trying to find words that would promise his return, even though he knew it could be weeks, perhaps even months, until he’d get another chance to return.

“Seems like we’ll have to make the best out of our time then.” The words rolled off her tongue seconds before she shuffled closer, letting her arms find their way around his neck. Three seconds passed until Dean began to move, two shaky breaths left them both, and one mumble of his name was all it took for Dean to kiss her breathless.

Perhaps they were moving all too fast, skipping important steps others clung to. But for the past weeks they had shared more with one another than they had with any other person, set on learning everything about the person on the other end of the line. It felt like they simply belonged together, forming a bond so sweet and sincere, neither had felt this alive before. 

Dean pulled her into his lap, hands resting on her waist to try and ground himself. This was more than just a fun night with a woman he’d never see again. This was everything he had never dared to give in to. This was what he had always feared, being with a woman who held his heart in her hands, giving her the power to toy with him. 

“Will this be a one night thing only?” (Y/n) mumbled the words against his slightly puffy lips, not daring to get lost in his darkening eyes before she had her answer. Dean’s hand found her chin, tilting it upwards to let her eyes find his. 

“Do you want it to be a one night thing?” His raspy voice buzzed through her like lightning striking her trembling body, setting her ablaze with a heat so strong, (y/n) feared she was about to lose control over her body. She had never been one for taking drugs, for chasing highs she couldn’t control, but now she couldn’t care about letting go, not when Dean held her oh so close. 

“No.” It was a simple reply, and yet it was enough to make a smirk grow on his lips. Dean kissed her again before he rose to his feet with her clinging to him, wordlessly letting her guide him towards her bedroom with her finger pointed in the right direction. Carefully, he placed her down on her bed, making room for him to shuffle out of his shirt to expose his naked upper body to her wandering eyes. 

“This is much more than just one night, I will come back to you, sweetheart. I promise.” Her laughter reverberated through the bedroom, leaving Dean chuckling before he tugged on her shirt. Both were a mess of tangled limbs as they undressed, leaving them both in their underwear before he pushed (y/n) down on the mattress, hovering over her. 

His lips kissed their way to her chest, sucking on the spots that made her breath hitch in her chest. Dean was high on her noises, wondering if being with women had always been like this and if he had simply never paid enough attention or if this was all about being with (y/n). Everything about this felt different, a routine he had once known by heart turning into something completely new he never wanted to let go of again. 

“Dean, touch me, please. Been waiting too long for this to happen.” (Y/n)’s impatient words left him chuckling while he undid her bra, exposing her breasts to his excited eyes. Sweet nothings left him as he marked her up, sucking on her hardening nubs and letting his hands palm her skin before moving further down south. Their eyes held contact, connected through every passing moment. 

“You’re so gorgeous, baby, I can’t wait to have my way with you.” She mewled his name, eyes fluttering close as he pressed a kiss to her clothed heat. Slowly, Dean pulled her panties down her legs, letting the fabric drop to the ground before kissing his way to her pulsing bundle. A moan clawed through (y/n) at the new sensation, high on the feeling of his rough tongue brushing against her bundle, on the way he brushed two fingers through her slit to spread her arousal on her warm skin. “You taste so sweet, fuck, I could do this forever.” 

“Make me cum, please, Dean. I need you.” (Y/n) arched her back off the mattress, toes curled as her orgasm crept closer and closer. He sucked on her bundle, drawing another moan from her that left him grinning in success. Dean wanted to see her cum when he was buried deep inside of her, knowing that he couldn’t drag this out much longer. “I want you so bad, make me yours.”

“You’re already mine, sweetheart. I’d be stupid to let you go again.” He let go of her to step out of his boxers, hand finding his hard cock to give it a few tugs. (Y/n) momentarily shuffled away from her spot, reaching for a condom Dean rolled down on his length, leaving both nervous for a second as he positioned himself. 

“Oh my god, fuck.” She choked on her words as he sank into her, moving slowly to let them both adjust. Dean pressed his forehead against hers, giving her the opportunity to sling one arm around his neck while the other ran down his back, scratching at his skin. He moved carefully at first, keeping her legs wrapped around his waist while he stretched her perfectly, making her feel full with every thrust. 

“Focus on me, baby.” Their eyes met again, wordlessly sharing their every thought, every longing they struggled to put into words. She felt loved, more loved than ever before, all because of a man she had met for the first time hours ago, even though she knew his darkest and deepest secrets. He felt appreciated and complete for the first time in his life, he had finally found what he had always been searching for, and it had come in the shape of a woman he had fallen head over heels in love with.

Their bodies melted together with every thrust, tangled limbs and racing hearts that formed a completed picture. She whimpered his name, knowing that her orgasm was all too close and ready to bury her six feet under with Dean clinging to her like ancient lovers buried together. Nothing could rip them apart, nothing could stand in their way as they loved one another like they had always ached to be loved. 

“I’m so close, Dean.” Her whispers spurred him on, letting his hand find her bundle to give her the needed pressure. She came first, letting go with another moan as his hips kept snapping against hers. Dean fucked her through her high, watching her unfold beneath him with a proud smirk glued to his lips.

He came moments later, burying his face in the crook of her neck to let the scent of her perfume engulf him. She clung to him, wordlessly trying to find back to reality as both panted, “Never let me go again, Dean.” 

“Never, baby, it’s you and me against the world.”

[himluv]

Idk, man. Seems like a buckwild take to say that just because Lucanis can't heal with Neve the way he does with Rook makes him and Neve a bad pairing. Like, there's no one right person for anyone. One True Love™ isn't real and there are all kinds of relationships that work just fine. There's no one right way to deal with trauma. And love comes in so many shapes and sizes.

I don't think it's outside the realm of possibility that Neve and Lucanis help each other get better together. It won't look the same as either does with Rook, because, well, they aren't with Rook (???).

But I firmly believe that both of them would hold their partner to a higher standard, demand that they accept more love than they think they deserve, because they want better for their partners. And while that might not lead to Lucanis unraveling his trauma à la Mind Prison, it doesn't mean Neve couldn't help him find another route through.

(I also think it's a bit unkind to think a 35-36 year old man who has already dealt with his childhood trauma (re: he "doesn't resent Caterina anymore", implying he once did and he worked through his shit) wouldn't eventually work through the Ossuary and Spite on his own. It would just be slower and look different and that's OKAY! Romance is not a prerequisite for dealing with trauma.)

Also, and I will die on this hill, it is not "bad writing" to have Lucanis be unromanceable by a Rook who chose to save Minrathous. Lucanis views that choice, as logical as it may be, as a betrayal. You've betrayed Treviso, the Crows, and him. And, he's someone who REQUIRES a close emotional attachment to feel attraction (demisexual, hello???). So, yeah. You let his city and people die a slow terrible death to the blight, he isn't going to fall in love with you. He literally can't. It makes complete sense and I thought it was a BRILLIANT choice by the writers. If you save Minrathous, you get a totally different Lucanis and I think that's incredible.

Neve doesn't lock you out if you save Treviso because she is a much more rational and logical thinker than Lucanis. Lucanis is called "soft-hearted" and "sentimental" multiple times across the game and tie-in media, where Neve is known for her icy exterior, wit and cleverness. It makes complete sense.

I am begging people to stop calling elements they personally dislike "bad writing".

[uglypastels]

Ridlington Park | II | Eddie Munson regency!au

Dear reader, my sincerest apologies for the delay in the upcoming chapter. It seems that there had been some technical problems at the printer's shop and some terrible time management on this writer's part. Before we resume this tale of love, however, I would also like to thank all who have read the first chapter and shared their thoughts on it with not only me but others. Know that your support does not go unnoticed, and I cherish it with all my heart.

Word Count: 8.1k

Do be warned, Dear Reader, for this story in its entirety may contain:

female!reader. slow burn. forbidden romance. jealousy. pining. smut. alcohol consumption. swearing. OC family. family disputes. horses. talks of arranged marriage. historical facts as well as trivial inaccuracies.

Due to the adult nature of the story, this author also kindly but sternly requires underage readers to pursue other works. 

The Ridlington Park Collection | Correspondence | Join the Taglist - Read Chapter 1 here -

Chapter Two: A Time for Scandal

“At a private ball, no lady will refuse an introduction to a gentleman. It is an insult to her hostess, implying that her guests are not gentlemen. It is optional with the lady whether to continue to drop the acquaintance after the ball is over, but for that evening, however disagreeable, etiquette requires her to accept him for one dance, if she is disengaged, and her hostess requests it.” - The Ladies' Book of Etiquette, 1873

The Royal family's return to London brings a new life to the city each year as its elite congregates fervently for all possible occasions. The notable number of balls, soirees, and other social gatherings mark a particularly eventful point in the year that no eager lady or gentleman would want to miss. And whilst the matchmakings occupy most thoughts, this motivation somewhat overshadows the mere social aspect of the season. The parties offer the perfect meeting ground for all ton members, as they can indulge in all the niceties the hosts provide. Whether it be the music, magnificent foods and drinks, or simply pleasant conversation. To miss a social event, especially for a debutante such as yourself, Dear Reader, is to miss an opportunity to present oneself to her suitors and the entire town. It is to miss the happenings that drive the whole court forward. 

Thus, you were obligated to accept every single invitation presented to you and your family. And as spectacular as they all were, weariness settled deep in your bones with each new event. No matter how lavish, it all began to blur together into one repetitive pattern.

Each time, you would find yourself atop a grand staircase, your family trailing behind, as the earlier arrivals looked up in awe and envy. With a shaky breath and a tremble to the hand holding your skirt, you descended the steps onto the dancefloor, where a wonderful yet pesky gentleman awaited to greet you. If fortune were in their favour, they would even gather in a pack, making you the bearer of choice who to greet first, whose offer for refreshment to accept, and whose signature to claim on your dance card in which order. Meanwhile, your mother gawked in a nearby distance with a smile stretching for miles, already planning what cakes to ask the chef about for the next morning’s calling hour. 

The lights around you sparkled wonderfully, and you could not deny that Lord and Lady Parsnell had outdone themselves for their annual ball. Theirs was a particularly beautiful ballroom, with windows covering the entirety of the large west wall. It overlooked the gardens illuminated with lanterns of all colours, and the room was in an everlasting golden glow. The music played from the far right corner, where the musicians were located on their platform, all dressed in elaborate costumes and wigs, completely painted in bronze to imitate the likeness of statues and as the bypassing guests were gawking up at them, you felt a twinge of a connection between yourself and the talent across the room.

‘Would you care to dance, miss?’ one of the gentlemen asked, and as you could not find a single polite response in your entire vocabulary, you opted for a kind smile as you extended your hand in agreement. 

As with all the others, this was making itself out to be a long and dreadful evening.

On your way to the centre of the floor to join all the other couples, you caught a glimpse of your oldest brother, Nicholas. To no one’s surprise, he had found himself in deep conversation with a young lady dressed in a gorgeous sea-blue dress, a fan to match fluttering purposefully over her bosom. For the entirety of the dance, you kept your eyes on the two of them. No matter how lacking intellectual stimulation your brother’s endeavours may be, they forever remained more fascinating than anything your dance partner had to offer. You only turned your attention to the man at the harsh sound of his laugh. It appeared he had been entertaining himself with his jokes for the duration of the waltz. This and how he slurred you around the room, practically dragging your limbs behind him, made you doubt you were very needed at that moment. 

Finally, the music slowed, and you were released from Lord Bramley's harsh hold on your hands. You bid him farewell with a respectable curtsy and walked away before the man could utter another word, let alone request another dance. As you walked off the floor, a most horrid apparition revealed itself in the corner of your eye in the shape of another available man in conversation with your mama. Too occupied by the gentleman, she had not noticed you to have finished your dance, and so you saw the opportunity to make yourself scarce in the crowd, at least for the moment.

‘You cannot hide forever.’ A hum more irritating than a critter tickled at your ear as your second brother, Christopher, appeared by your side at the confectionery table. 

‘I certainly can try, can I not?’ you grinned, tasting the icing on a strawberry cake. 

‘Because we know how well that turned out for you the last time,’ he reminded you. All you could do was grin at him maliciously as you thought back to the day when— 

❀❀❀

Your mother had lovingly retrieved you from the stables as you had attempted to escape one of your family’s countless matchmaking attempts. And while the man you had met, Mr Steve Harrington, had turned out to be quite pleasant, you still struggled to relive the embarrassment of being hunted down by your mother through the garden. Not to mention the judgment of your siblings the very next day at breakfast as you learned they had been told all of what had occurred the day prior.

You walked into the room with an appetite that disappeared as soon as you saw the amusement on your family’s faces and heard the hushed tones with which they spoke as you found your seat. Perhaps if they had been more straightforward, you could have endured it, but they all remained silent as they watched you take your pick of the food, portioning it onto your plate at your own pace. Only as you took your first bite did the first words erupt, nearly leading you to choke. 

‘Your lunch with Harrington went well, I take it?’ Nicholas asked, much to his amusement.

‘What makes you say that?’ you asked, answering with your own question, with no intention of looking your family in the eye as you did. 

‘Mother has just caught us up with the events of yesterday afternoon,’ your brother stated, his enthusiasm in stark contrast to your discomfort at the moment. 

‘I cannot see how there was much to speak of.’ You tore off another piece of the toast with your teeth. ‘It was dreadful.’

‘Dreadful, you say,’ Christopher snickered, barging into the conversation, as unwelcome as the rest, ‘it is not the word I would use, given what we have heard.’

‘Please enlighten me, then, brother? What do you deem an appropriate summary given what I can only assume was mother’s thoroughly accurate recount of what happened?’ You could imagine that she had embellished aspects of the day to fit her narrative; one that most definitely would not suit your future objectives in any way. Truly, since when had the breakfast meal also become the time for your entire family to torture you? It seemed that any moment you all found yourselves in one place, it was deemed the designated time for inquiries regarding your prospects. 

‘I had only told them that you seemed to have rather enjoyed yourself with Mr Harrington,' your mother said nonchalantly as if she had not just struck you with a verbal mallet over the head. 

‘Mother!’ you said with a frozen-in-shock expression, but your mother only blinked slowly in bewilderment. You blinked slowly as well. ‘How could you?’

‘Is that an offence to say these days?’ She replied, chuckling, underestimating the damage she had caused with that simple phrase. You had rather enjoyed yourself with Mr Harrington. The string of simple words opened the floodgates that until then kept back the unwanted commentary of your siblings, in particular, the vaunting of Nicholas, who had pridefully acclaimed the matchmaking between you and Mr Harrington to himself and would not let anyone forget that for the rest of the meal or the hours, even days, after—

❀❀❀

But you were happy to put all this far behind you. No matter how keen your siblings or parents were to return to that day, you were not one to dwell in the past. You looked forward. More specifically, right ahead of you, where there seemed to be a clear exit route in the form of a pair of large oaken doors—like a gleaming, delicious yet forbidden fruit tormenting you from a distance. You shook the silly thought out of your mind, returning your attention to Christopher, who indulged himself in a puff pastry delicacy.

‘Can you blame me, brother, for acting out after having endured an entire day of the most monotonous, unspirited, and, dare I say, upright dull conversation a man has to offer?’ You watched Christopher pick up a glass of wine, quickly grabbing it out of his hands to consume the drink yourself, leaving him, in turn, in a slightly shocked state of confusion.  

He blinked slowly and sighed. ‘You do not have to explain yourself to me, and I hope you do recognise that,’ he said as he watched you finish the last drops of his wine. ‘I am merely suggesting that if you know what is good for you, you will open yourself up to these opportunities, as by defying, you will only end up causing yourself more harm.’

Now it was your turn to heave out a heavy and tired breath. You put the glass down, perhaps a bit too harshly, as the thud against the table spurred on a few looks from the ladies around you, but you were too occupied with your brother’s words. He was right, of course, on both accounts. Of all your siblings, Christopher was most like yourself, never entirely understanding the need for marriage. Of course, as a male and a second-born son, he had no such obligation or needs to fulfil. It was perfectly well for him to remain a bachelor for as long as he pleased, not to mention pursue any interests he might have.

Meanwhile, all of these “opportunities” you had that he spoke of were in matters of either matchmaking or to enhance your appeal for such exact situations. Yes, you had a more than fortunate education. You spoke various languages, understood maths and geography, could play the pianoforte prettily, perform any dance in your sleep, and occupy yourself with perfectly fine needlework. But it was disheartening, as at the end of the day, all these accomplishments were meant as nothing more than to advertise yourself to men who could not care one bit for any of it as long as your face and body were adequate for their tastes.

But you also knew, through your assumptions and fair warnings from others, that if you were not to find a husband yourself, someone else would do so for you, and a last resort comes to be just that for apparent reasons but ones you would rather not familiarise yourself with. 

‘Do not tell me I have managed actually to silence you and put a stop to your wit.’ Christopher chuckled. 

‘You wish,’ you responded, possibly proving his point. Meanwhile, another song began to play as more couples took to the floor. Your eyes immediately examined the room for any threats of men reaching for your hand for a dance, particularly a certain Mr Bridgerton, who you read to have claimed a spot on your dance card. 

‘Rules are rules,’ Christopher sang teasingly as he saw you check the card tied around your wrist. ‘You cannot deny a gentleman’s—’ but he never entirely managed to finish his sentence as he watched you tug at the ribbon connecting you to the list of men waiting for a dance. The material tightened, most likely leaving a nasty red line across your arm as you pulled and pulled until—snap—you broke free. The piece of paper fell to the floor. 

‘Oh my!’ You covered your mouth in faux-wide-eyed perplexity as you kicked the discarded card behind a large potted plant, far into the forgotten shadows of the room. ‘How can I remember the gentlemen’s names whom I have promised a dance now?’

Against his better judgement, your brother cracked a smile, ‘I can tell you now, you will regret doing that.’

‘Somehow, I rather doubt that,’ you twirled your wrist, enjoying how freeing it felt not to be tied up any longer. 

‘The second that mother finds you without that silly little thing around your hand, you will sing a different tune, sister.’ He finally took another glass of wine, cheering you on, ‘And do not come crying to me about it when that happens.’ The large chug he took was anything but galant. Still, it was his final act before he bid you farewell and left you at the confectionary table to fend for yourself. You had not expected the doubt to settle as quickly as it did, but perhaps the lack of a big brother-shaped guard dog by your side made you feel abnormally self-conscious. For a moment, you considered running after Christopher, but from what you could see through the crowd, he had quickly crossed the room and was already entertaining his friends—each of them a gentleman you were attempting to ignore. 

Things only seemed to be taking a turn for the worse when you picked up a foreign accent which deafened all others around you. 

Harrington. 

You cursed to yourself, quickly turning around to face the tables. What on earth was this man doing here? The Parsnell family was ever the charitable one, but never in the matters of their parties. You could not imagine what would make them want to invite some foreign merchant’s son. 

Well, the answer was simple. It was the same as any other question regarding Steve Harrington and his actions towards you. It must have been your eldest brother’s doing, of course. It was all Nicholas from the very beginning, and he would not let you forget it ever since that breakfast the day after you met with the American—-

❀❀❀

‘I knew it from the moment I met the good man; you would make a perfect pair.’ He said as he sat across from you in the drawing room, feet hanging over the couch’s armrest. 

‘And how, pray tell, could you predict this exactly?’ You rolled your eyes. While most often, it was Nicholas who attempted to drown out your voice through the words on a page, it was your turn that day to try to ignore his rambling.

‘As much as you would like to think better of yourself,’ Nicholas leaned forward, more than happy to keep talking about the subject, mainly if it covered a topic that could humble you: ‘the truth is that you are as shallow as the rest of us, sister, not to mention as easy to read on the subject of these matters as everyone else.’ 

‘Even if I had such biases, I would not share them with you,’ you scoffed, flipping an unread page. 

‘There was no need for that explicitly, I have conducted my research and come to the right conclusions, have I not?’ It was impossible to wipe the smug smile off his face; you knew that by now, and yet…

‘If you do not shut your mouth this instant, I swear, I will throw this book at you,’ you threatened, putting the book you had occupied yourself with over your head. 

‘You are only this upset because you know I am right.’ Nicholas gloated, but you were happy to see him tense up in the shoulders as you began aiming the book in his direction. Not that you would actually throw it… just yet. A lady can do heinous things if pushed far enough, and you felt yourself standing on the edge. 

‘I know that you are being completely maddening.’ You dropped the book in your lap. ‘And must be mad if you think I am in love with this man. He was a pleasant conversation partner, that is all. I assume mother has been deprived of social engagements for far too long, if she thinks me laughing at this man’s jests is enough for there to be an engagement already.’ Harrington’s jokes had been funny, you had to admit, but it must have been a joke from the powers above that sent the following footman into the room in that instance, announcing a gift had been left for you at the door. 

Before you could say anything, Nicholas requested it to be brought into the room. From the irrepressible smirk on his face, he seemed to have an edge of knowledge on you on what was about to be presented through that door in the following moments.

And indeed, not much later, the man returned holding an oversized vase filled with flowers—a bouquet of colours combined into a lovely smell overpowering your senses. 

You said nothing as you walked up to the table where the heavy gift was set, but your lips could not help but part in surprise. You noticed the paper sticking out from between the buds and gently pulled it out. 

See these flowers as a token of my appreciation for thy hospitality and benignity. 

Sincerest greetings, 

S.H. 

You groaned out, reading the words. ‘You are despicable, brother!’ Nicholas, who had been reading along with you from behind your shoulder, quickly stepped aside as you turned his way, ‘You set him up to do this.’ the accusation came out of your mouth like venom. 

‘I did no such thing.’ But his smile remained easy to read. Although… was it a remnant of his earlier pride, or did he see the flowers as yet another gratification for his unbearable attitude? 

‘But you did! It has your grimy hands written all over it.’ You flicked the paper in his face. How many times had you seen your brother write notes to the ladies he attempted to court or send out servants to pick flowers from the garden? ‘Did you scheme this whole thing out on the boat on your way home?’ You could already see it all so clearly. The two of them standing in a corner of the ship, your brother acting like a snake charmer, teaching Harrington everything for him to win you over. It all left a rather sour taste in your mouth.

‘I promise you, I had nothing to do with this.’ He glanced at the flowers, ‘but you must admit that the man has a great taste.’

‘Yes, I am sure his servant has great botanical knowledge. Do you think me to be so dense that I would expect the man to do this all by himself?’

‘You cannot make me believe you were not impressed for even a moment?’ Nicholas argued. You glared at him, eyes formed into narrow poisonous slits, but in the end, all you could emanate from your mouth was another angry groan. Feeling hopeless, you let your body guide you back to the chaise across the drawing room. The smell of the flowers seemed to linger on despite your effort to distance yourself.

‘So you are to say that you have no feelings for Harrington? What so ever?’ Nicholas trotted behind you, taking the seat next to you.

‘No more than I have for you at the moment,’ you said with gritted teeth.

‘Ah, so you do love him!’

‘Ugh,’ you exclaimed—

❀❀❀

 Much as you did when you suddenly felt a presence behind you calling your name. To compose yourself in the crowd and avoid further embarrassment for anyone, you quickly turned back around to face the man approaching you. However, by doing so, your sudden movement caused a chain reaction in the glass you had just reached for, spilling all its content on your person.

‘Mr Harrington!’ You gasped. However, any possible enthusiasm you might have felt for the man’s presence was overtaken by the shock as your bodice soaked in the cold beverage, knowing that the material of your dress was gaining more damage with each passing second. Of course, a handful of people nearby stopped what they were doing to gawk at what surely must be a rather embarrassing moment between a young lady and a suitor she was attempting to seduce. 

‘Miss Byrnwick,’  Harrington jumped into action, ‘let me find you a maid.’ Within another second, he had disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to cry in shame at your brother’s side—your brother, Nicholas, who did not seem one ounce affected by your dramatics.

‘Have you no shame?’ he asked between tight lips, leaning in your direction to avoid the eager ears of the nearby audience.

‘Oh, brother, I have only begun.’ You smiled with a whisper before taking a step back, and another, until your back was met with the soft texture of the cake placed directly behind you. How ridiculous of you to have forgotten. 

You cried out.

‘There there, sister,’ Nicholas failed to find a single sincere vocal cord from what it seemed. ‘Let us get you cleaned up.’ He reached for your arm, smiling at a hoard of ladies standing a few feet away, but you quickly pulled away.

‘Do not be ridiculous, my dress is in ruins!’ You did anything but shout. Anyone paying attention, and by this point, this had included the majority of the gathering, would be no fool to expect your eyes to be on the verge of tears as you attempted to cover yourself up to no avail. Why, after this fiasco, no one could blame you for making a swift departure out of the ballroom.

That is nearly nobody, for your mother caught you just as you were about to exit. 

‘Dearest, what has happened to your dress?’ Her face showed an awkward smile filled with concern, but you knew that not that deep inside, she was raging with fury as she took in your state.

‘It was an accident, mama.’ You sniffed, wiping at your dry cheeks. ‘Now, will you excuse me? I would like to go home, please.’ 

In this instance, with more and more people collecting around you to look at and their whispered words making their rounds around the room faster than the country dance performed just moments ago, there was very little your mother could do. After a final look around the room in hopes of finding a suitable reason for you to stay, yet failing to do so, she had no choice but to let you go.

‘Let me at least find one of your brothers to escort you,’ your mother sighed in defeat.

‘I am perfectly capable of going home by myself, mother.’ You resumed taking steps toward the doors, their appeal practically pulling at your feet eagerly. ‘And besides, I will not be alone. I will have the carriage driver for company.’ This did not make your mother any more confident in the situation, but both your brothers also appeared to have vanished into thin air, and the gossip was only growing more potent the longer you stood there in your stained ensemble.

‘Alright then,’ Mother gave in, ‘just… be careful.’

‘Of course.’ You reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. ‘Thank you.’ With this farewell, you ran out of the room as politely as it was possible in good society. There had not been many occasions in which you had visited Lord Parsnell’s estate, so it took a moment before you found the main entrance. 

‘Everything alright, miss?’ a footman standing by the door called out, clearly having noticed your distress. 

‘Perfectly well,’ you caught your breath. I simply require my carriage.’ To this, the man nodded and disappeared into a corridor to call for your transport. The music seeped through the main hallway from across the other side of the large house. Mindlessly, you let your body move in sync with the violins. You took small but correct steps over the marble flooring until the man returned, announcing your carriage would be ready momentarily.

‘I shall wait outside,’ you explained, and just like that, the grand doors opened to reveal the late night. Crickets chirped across the fields nearby as the moon and stars illuminated the gravel at the entrance. With nobody around and the cool night air pleasing to your heated skin, you took a deep breath and let your legs give in.

‘Danced too hard, miss?’ a familiar voice called over the sound of horses’ hooves and carriage wheels rolling. ‘You look like you have just walked through a storm.’

‘Balls have that effect on a lady.’

‘They sure do,’ Eddie chuckled, for a reason unclear to you.

‘Did I say something funny?’

‘No, it’s nothing,’ he shook his head, changing the subject, ‘Will your family be long?’

‘They shall take the second carriage. I will be making my return alone.’ With your numbers, one carriage would have called for a relatively tight, possibly hazardous fit. So you and your brothers had taken the larger coach—steered by your family’s coachmen—whilst your parents drove in the smaller hansom that Mr Munson had kindly offered to operate for the other regular driver had coincidentally fallen ill. 

Thus, now that you were returning alone, you had the smaller carriage all to yourself. 

‘No chaperone?’ Eddie asked, somewhat apprehensively.

‘I have you, have I not?’ you said as you hiked up your dress to climb aboard. The footman that had so generously opened the coach door looked reasonably stunned as, instead, you took your seat next to Eddie in the driver’s seat. He looked at you with just as much surprise. ‘I’d like to enjoy the mid-night air, if that is alright with you,’ you explained.

‘You won’t hear me complain, miss,’ he smiled, pulling the reigns and setting the horses into motion. As you drove off, you dared to take a peak behind you. The footman remained confused in his place, trying to comprehend what exactly he had just witnessed and whether or not to call it a scandal or not. But, in your modest opinion, you could not find anything scandalous in a young lady who was seeking comfort from one of her family’s employees and one you had, above all, learned to trust a great deal in the last weeks.

As you know, you have always found comfort in the gardens surrounding your house, yet after your first meeting with Mr Munson, you found yourself seeking refuge on the grounds even more often than before. Especially as the arguments regarding your prospects grew more heated and the tensions between you and your family became more tiresome by the day. It became an almost daily routine for someone to shout out obscenities and slam a door in protest, and nearly every fight ended in you needing to catch a breath amongst the flora. And more often than not, you wandered around until you found yourself at the stables. But unlike in your childhood when it was the horses’ company you were looking for, it was now a person’s attention you were hoping to catch—

❀❀❀

You certainly had no intentions of returning to the stables the first time you did so. Initially, you had planned to visit the orangery, but the gardeners were currently occupying it, and in your need for solitude, it did not feel like the right place to be, which is why you surprised yourself as you called out into the empty aisle. 

‘Hello?’

No response came. Nobody was around except the stallions and mares, who were comfortably munching away at their hay, unaware of anything happening outside the building. 

You stood in front of the entrance, looking ahead of you, unsure of what to do next and still not entirely certain why you had come here in the first place. You listened to the soft, unbothered noises of the horses and fiddled with the fabric of your dress for a moment or two until the silence became unbearable. It could not have been longer than a minute that you stood there, but to you, it felt like an eternity, and with each passing second and no plan on what to do next, you only felt sillier and sillier. You had to leave here before someone caught you standing and waiting like a statue. And as you turned around, you slammed into the arms of the one person you had hoped would not catch you this way. 

‘We must stop meeting this way,’ Eddie smiled, but the grin quickly disappeared as he caught a glimpse of your expression. ‘Everything alright, ma’am?’ 

‘Yes, of course,’ you wiped the folds in your dress nervously. Something about his gaze made it impossible for you to return it. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘You look as if you’d just seen a ghost.’ 

‘Well, you did just scare me half to death, Mr Munson.’ It was true. You felt your heart leap up into your throat as your bodies collided. ‘You are far too stealthy, you know.’ 

‘Apologies. I have learned to be quiet around the horses so as not to startle them—’ 

‘Which has the exact opposite effect on humans, does it not? ' you said, pushing the corners of your mouth into a smile. 

‘It appears so, miss.’ He returned the gesture. 

It took far too long for you to realise that, according to the general rules of conversation, you were expected to say something next; however, before you could remedy that misstep, Eddie spoke up once more. 

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ 

‘Yes,’ you shook your head, ‘perfectly so. Is the weather not lovely?’ You looked up, just anywhere but at him, to see the cloudless sky. ‘I er— I thought of taking Barley Sugar out for a ride.’ Suddenly, your intentions of finding yourself in front of the stableman were perfectly clear. 

‘Of course, ma’am. Which horse will your chaperone be taking?’ The question stumped you, which must have been clear to the man looking so intently at you, for he quickly asked: ‘You do have a chaperone, do you not?’ 

‘I do not. I am more than capable of riding the horse on my own, thank you. I have been doing so since I was 5 years old.’ 

Eddie hovered over his words briefly. ‘I did not intend to question your skills, ma’am; it is only that it had been made clear to me upon my employment that you are required to have someone accompany you when you leave the residence—for the horse’s safety, if anything.’ He quickly added, sensing that it might soften the blow of your horse-riding chastising.

‘I did not think you to be such a stickler for the rules, Mr Munson,’ you found yourself to tease the man. Where the nerve to do so came from, you did not know, but it looked to be appreciated. Eddie shook his head, possibly already regretting his following words.

‘May I at least ask where you will be headed then?’ 

‘I have not thought of that yet,’ you responded honestly. ‘I might just see where Barley takes me.’ At this, however, the stableman visibly winced. You raised a brow. ‘Is something the matter?’

Eddie shook his head in disappointment.  ‘I only wish you had not said that, miss. I cannot, in good conscience, let Barley Sugar go out unprepared like that. The old thing could get lost or, even worse, hurt. To even think of such a thing happening—’ he looked away, reminding you of how the actors moved in the many plays you had visited at the theatre. ‘Well, it is simply too painful even to consider.’  

‘I am sure Barley can manage such a venture… and she is certainly not old.’

‘Of course,’ he corrected, ‘But we must consider the risks and wouldn’t want anything to happen to Barley, now, would we?’ As he spoke, you made the grave mistake of finding his eyes and the stare he greeted you with, while warm, was intense and rather dizzying. 

You cleared your throat, suppressing a smile, ‘Well, perhaps, if you insist, you should be the one to accompany me on this ride… for Barley’s sake.’

‘For Barley’s sake.’ He echoed your words softer, and just like that, any protocol that should have been considered was thrown out the window. As a newly acquired help, Eddie had no right to accompany you on outings as a chaperone, not without senior permission, at the least. And yet, it was not even ten minutes later that you were both seated on your horses— you upon Barley Sugar and Eddie on the back of a dark brown stallion named Marzipan—and briskly making your way out of the enclosed grounds of the estate.

Ever since, as if by a magnet, you felt yourself pulled towards that particular side of the garden at the sight of any inconvenience. You knew that there was not only an ear always eager to listen but a voice happy to speak to you freely and happily. And though most days, there would be the excuse of a horse or carriage ride for your visit, other times, you would plainly sit by as Eddie worked, chatting away for hours on end or however much time you had to offer. 

‘Are you quite sure that it is alright for you to be here, miss?’ Eddie asked after a week’s worth of your visits. You watched him pick up a large sack of feed as if it weighed nothing at all and put it across the stable room. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing that however strainless the carrying of the weight might seem, he had certainly put his muscles to work.

‘I may not own this house directly,’ you answered, ‘but I am the lord’s daughter, and I am free to do as I please… to a certain extent.’ No one could tell you not to roam through the grounds or converse with the groom in your free time, but total freedom you had not. 

 ‘Well, with risk or not,’ Eddie threw another sack on top of the previous, ‘I consider it a great honour to be the recipient of your company.’

‘I am surprised none of the gentlemen have attempted to use such a phrase to charm me.’ You could not help but roll your eyes. ‘And besides, Mr Munson, the honour is all mine. It is rare for me to find a person that finds me agreeable enough to talk to me at such length as you do.’ And one I find as agreeable too, you considered adding but decided against it. 

That smile peeked out over his lips again as he walked up to you. ‘Well, I have hardly any choice, I mean, when you come here to my place of work, it’s not like I can just walk away.’

‘Oh, you,’ you pushed at him lightly. But with him having squatted down to meet you at eye level, the slight push was enough to topple him over onto the ground. And to think I wanted to ask you to escort me on another horse ride.’

‘In these clothes?’ Eddie looked at the both of you, him covered in mud and dust, and your dress was much the same. ‘What will people think?’ 

You got off your makeshift seat to help him back on his feet. 

‘Then let us hope there will be no one to see us.’

❀❀❀

The carriage wobbled over the uneven ground as you distanced yourselves from the Parsnell estate, and the quiet of the night was filled with your retelling of the evening.

‘So I am to understand that this,’ Eddie cocked his head your way, referring to your dress, ‘was your own doing?’

‘I thought it quite ingenious,’ you shrugged.

‘And what of this Mr… Harrington? He must still be looking for you with that maid of his I imagine.’ 

‘No.’ But the image of a disappointed Mr Harrington walking through the room, a maid in tow, with you nowhere to be seen, did sting at your heart a little with guilt. ‘Do you really think he is still looking for me?’ A giggle burst through against your better judgment despite your attempts to suppress it with the hand you covered your mouth with. ‘I am quite cruel, aren’t I?’

‘Absolutely wicked,’ Eddie commented with a weirdly proud smile. As the road went on straight, he took his eyes off it from time to time to glance your way—just briefly and only a handful of times, but enough for you to notice. You could only hope he was not as observant towards your actions.

‘What is it?’ you asked after several more glances directed towards you as a sweet silence fell between you. 

‘It is nothing,’ Eddie smiled it off.

‘Which means it is certainly something. Go on, enlighten me.’

He shook his head. ‘I suppose it is just that, from how you described the night, I do not see what must be so awful about it— you speak of delicious food, drinking and dancing. I don’t necessarily see a problem in this.’

‘Because that is not the problem. It is not the dancing, it is who I am to dance with.’ You sighed. ‘Night after night, it is an endless rotation of the same men I am as uninterested in as the very first day I met them. They corner me to ask me a million questions, each shallower than the last, only to then try and coax me into a dance where they will surely trample my feet.’

‘I see,’ Eddie nodded, but perhaps it was only the vibrations caused by the carriage’s movement that made him agree with your ramblings. 

‘I apologise. I do not mean to talk of my problems constantly.’ Indeed, the man must have his own issues, and ones that most likely outweighed your marital prospects severely. 

‘You have nothing to be sorry for, miss. I am happy to listen,’ he said earnestly.

‘Very well,’ you contemplated your words for a moment until you quickly blurted out with curiosity, ‘but how was your evening?’ 

‘Mine?’ To your surprise, your question had caused Eddie to chuckle.

‘Yes. I assume you must have done something to fulfil the last hours. Or do carriage drivers freeze up when unattended, only to thaw at their master’s command?’

‘I would say that is partly true.’ He quickly looked your way with a smile before explaining himself. ‘For the most part, when on duty, you have to keep your mind on the job, so I cannot exactly indulge in things and have to be ready in case a lady’s dress is ruined and she is in dire need of her getaway carriage.’ Your eyes met briefly. ‘But that does not mean that I am to sit still in an empty room until you come to call, no.’

‘So? What is it that you do in the meantime?’ 

‘Card games, for the most part.’ He shrugged, not seeing your interest in the topic, too focused on the road ahead to notice how you eagerly looked at him, awaiting his following words. 

You had to admit, until that night, you had never put much thought behind the private lives of those who waited on you. Yes, you understood that not all their day revolved around you or your family, but you also never considered it to be any of your business to follow theirs. You listened whenever your maid, Claire, told you stories about her family, storing the basic information of the names and so on in the back of your mind, but at the end of the day, these were nothing more than anecdotes amid polite conversation. Yet, with Eddie, you were eager to know everything about him. The longer you spoke, the more questions filled your mind, and the less adequate you felt to ask them. You were, after all, friendly, or so you hoped, but you knew there was a thick line in society when it came to friendships such as this one, and you were not sure where that line would be crossed and if to be scared of what would happen once it happened. But now and then, curiosity got the better of you, and you managed to trickle in a question for Eddie to open up to you.

‘What er– kind of card games?’ You nudged on in your questioning. 

‘The regular kind, the ones nobody mentions by name, but everyone simply knows the rules of.’

‘I do not think I am familiar with any of such kind,’ you admitted. In the meantime, the carriage drew to a slow halt at the crossing of two roads. ‘You take the left here,’ you told Eddie, who looked at you in surprise. 

‘I cannot say my navigational skills are perfect,’ you said, ‘but I pay attention, and I remember going past the large boulder on our way to the party. There.’ You pointed towards the rock some meters away from the crossing in the left direction.

‘You are quite observant, I’ll give you that.’ He brought the horses back to action, and the rattling of hooves and wheels on the uneven ground resumed. As you passed the large boulder once more, Eddie then resumed your conversation. ‘You do not play any card games, then?’

‘I will admit, I prefer chess, but I do often play Cribbage with my siblings—or Brag. My brother Nicholas is also very fond of Piquet, and as I am the only one in the house that can stand his unsportsmanlike antics, he often forces me to play it with him.’

‘Very well,’ Eddie listened, then asked, ‘Do you know Trischaken?’

‘Pardon?’ you barely understood what he had said. 

‘Trischaken. It’s a Prussian card game, or perhaps Austrian; you’ll have to excuse my awful memory for geography.’ At this, you both laughed politely,

‘No, I do not think I have heard of it.’

‘Oh, it’s great, I must teach how to play one day.’ Only once his enthusiasm unfogged his mind a second later did Eddie pull back the excitement of his invitation to a polite suggestion, ‘If that is something that would interest you… ma’am.’

‘I would like that very much.’ You smiled, showing a bigger and more authentic smile than you had the entirety of the passing night. And barely did that smile fade for the remaining hours as you drove back home and listened to Eddie talk, trying to explain the rules of the intricate foreign game or tell you about his life outside of work. 

‘I did not take you for a music fanatic.’ You admitted as you approached the vicinity of Ridlington Park, its gates already glowing from the lights around it in the near distance. 

‘It must be a very sour sort of man that does not enjoy music. Are there really such types?’

‘And he is more common than you’d imagine, I am afraid, and it seems to be the type that my parents see me to marry one day.’

‘I am beginning to understand your problem,’ Eddie said, ‘but yes, music has always had a special place in my heart. My father had taught me how to play when I was a young boy and since then, it’s always brought me a great comfort. It was actually one of the very few things I brought with me from America.’

‘Is it hard? being so far away from your family?’ You asked softly, unable to imagine how you would feel if you were to leave everything and everyone you had ever known to work in some foreign land on the opposite side of the world. 

‘There are many things that I am still growing accustomed to, but I cherish the change.’

‘That is a very diplomatic mindset. I for one could not bear a day without the possibility of seeing my family, I think, no matter how meddlesome they are.’

Eddie’s eyes shimmered with kindness for your words. ‘I suppose I have grown used to it. I have been travelling for years now and have not seen my family for an even longer time, so it is actually the lack of independence and presence of…. this closeness of others that I am attempting to grow used to now.’

‘Ah.’ You blinked, not having expected that kind of response. Immediately, as the door of Eddie’s past unlocked, even if just for a moment, a mountain of questions spilt inside you, but you pushed those urges back. ‘I see. Well, if you ever require solitude and wish me to leave you alone, please be not afraid to just tell me so. I shall respect your wishes.’ Had you been too eager to sit beside him for the entirety of the ride, talking his ear off? Or all those other days when you bothered him at work. Oh, the embarrassment. If it was not for the fact that you were already coming through the Ridlington Park gates, you would have jumped off the carriage and walked the rest of the way home.

‘No, I did not mean it like that.’ Eddie quickly recovered his words. ‘Please, do not think I do not greatly appreciate and enjoy our conversations. They— they have been the highlight of my days.’

‘Really?’ Your proud smile was too strong to keep at bay. 

‘Yes, really.’ Eddie’s words pushed out a breathy laugh. ‘I see it as a welcome escape from the work.’

‘So do I,’ you noticed the wrong fit of your phrasing, ‘I mean, I enjoy our conversations as well.’ Would it be too much to call them an escape from reality? To him, perhaps. The entire night had already been a far breach of that line of what is proper or not for a lady to do. You knew you were awaiting a scolding the second your mother returned from the Parsnell ball. Now, the territory your and Eddie’s exchange was heading into felt anxiously foreign, somewhere you realised you had never gone to with any of your friends or acquaintances. Your heart picked up its pace as the carriage slowed down for the final time that night, arriving at its destination. 

Before you could do or say anything, Eddie had jumped out of the driver’s seat and ran across the back of the hansom to assist your exit. He extended his hand for you to take, and the moment your fingertips met, you knew it had been a mistake. Your hold tightened around his hand as you took the steps onto the ground, and though you found your footing perfectly well, you did not find the power to let go of Eddie.

And neither did he of you.

The two of you stood in front of each other, eyes locked into a deep gaze, only broken by his glances to the point where you were connected. Your hand was in his and burning like a fire between you; for the brief seconds as they pulled you closer together, your fingertips felt like the centre of the entire universe.

A fire that surely would burn and scar if you were to touch it.

It was dangerous. You knew it.

But what was life without a bit of risk?

‘My apologies,’ Eddie cleared his throat, taking a step back, letting your hand fall through the cold air.

‘There is no need for that.’ You shook your head out of all thoughts, or at least attempted to do so. ‘It is I who should apologise. If you will excuse me, I must change into something less… cakey. Good night, Mr Munson.’ You looked down at your dress, which was still, very much, covered in remnants of wine and cake. You were to leave, but Eddie quickly called to you, almost as if the words were faster than his mouth.

‘How many times must I ask you just to call me Eddie?’ His eyes were those of a pleading man, pleading for something you did not quite comprehend, but at the same time, you knew the consequences of giving in to his request.

You looked back at the windows of Ridlington Park. The building was enveloped in darkness, as no one was there to occupy the rooms or to see you. All you could do was remind yourself that there was nothing wrong with you being alone with a carriage driver or any other member of staff, but it certainly did not feel that way. There was undoubtedly something dangerous going on in that instance.

You took a deep breath as he held it in. The line you were scared to cross was getting thinner, and you grasped for something to hold onto as you felt your feet slip away. 

‘Good night, Eddie.’

And just like that, with only the hope there was no one around to see it, you both fell.

To be continued...

Thank you so much for reading!! I really do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Remember the best way to support writers is to reblog and share. I love to hear what people think of my stories so feel free to leave a comment or an ask or message. And don't forget to join the taglist if you want to be kept up to date on the chapters [yes, I promise, more will be coming]

[cripplecharacters]

Hey folks, fully abled writer here! I've got a question about nicknames/descriptive names related to physical differences and abilities. I write a lot of fantasy fiction with differing name and language systems than the real world. I'm also fond of using compound names, such as "Dawnbringer, Hardcutter, Bluemark, Bearhunter, etc." So in a fantasy world where much of this society has given names and clan surnames following a specific theme of strength and durability, I have a character that has both his given name but also a nickname many people call him. This nickname is "Firebrand," and I invented him many years ago when I wasn't very critical of my writing or biases and just wanted a cool-sounding fantasy name. He is is a city guard in a city that is regularly attacked by fantasy animals for plot and environment-related reasons, and as I developed this character more I decided that rather than his original dark edgy backstory where he was called Firebrand because he was tortured, he now gains the name Firebrand because he survived a dragon's fire breath and came out of it with burn scars up his chest neck and arms, particularly on his hands that limits some of his movement and dexterity. I intend to make it clear in the story that it isn't a derogatory name, it's part of their society's theme of having names that signify how people survive things.

He likes the nickname and the meaning it has in his culture, because to him it means he's good at his job and he has survived hard times. Right now, the story is told through third-person P.O.V, and he is primarily referred to in non-dialogue narration as his nickname. In dialogue, he usually introduces himself with his given name and surname, but many people including the rest of the city guards refer to him with the nickname . His family and boyfriend will use either name for him depending on the context and company. At a later point in the story, when he and some others end up in a situation where they are dealing with fairies and the magical rules about giving them your name, his nickname gives him an advantage against the fairy rules.

Is this a reasonable concept at all, or is it all very weird to use an injury and acquired physical difference to identify someone with? Or, if the concept is alright but the name itself is bad, do you have any suggestions for how I might want to come up with a different nickname? I'm thinking if the use of the word "brand" in the nickname has too much of a negative connotation, I could try to replace it with something like "Firehand" or "Firebrave" that might have a clearer positive connotation to readers as well as his in-story society.

And although it's not the purpose of this question, I have been doing research about burn scars and treatment; this blog has been helpful! Since the burns were deep and he has limb tremors and cramps as well as scars, he has exercises and ointments to keep his scarred skin flexible, and he takes care not to take long tasks that will strain his hands with fine motor skills or whatnot. When on duty, his uniform includes gloves and a high collar for protection, but in casual clothing his hands are bare and his clothing doesn't hide his scars unless it's for weather protection. I may come back in the future with more questions about that, but I've determined what I need to start with about the physical effects his injuries have on him.

Thank you, and I hope you're all having a good day!!

Hello!

This sounds fine and pretty cool to me. The most important part is that the name isn't intended to be derogatory and that he actually likes it.

As a different disability-related example, "Wheels" and all its variants is a surprisingly common nickname that wheelchair users use (mostly younger guys). Sometimes you have a few of these dudes in one group and three people look at you when you try to call for one of them, it's just a fun nickname. Could it also be a cartoon-bully level derogatory insult if it was used for a character that hates it? 100%. It's very context dependent.

That's the same sentiment that's crucial here I think. Your character likes it and is proud of it? Go ahead. It makes sense in his cultural background and his nickname falls under a similar naming convention so it fits. I like the mention of how it reminds him that "he has survived hard times", since it's something that I've heard from burn survivors who explain why they choose "survivor" over "victim" to refer to themselves.

To answer your actual question: yes, I think it's a reasonable concept that makes sense in the character's setting. In another context yeah, it could be weird to identify with an acquired physical difference like that, but other people will do it anyway, you could as well make it "yours" and be proud of it, wear it as a positive. I don't think it's something that is an automatic "no" even if kinda weird. I'd go case-by-case and in your character's case it seems great.

As for the actual name, I agree that "brand" does have a negative connotation in English, all the criminal/cattle/label associations are less than ideal. I don't think it's detrimental to the concept like some other potential nicknames could be (looking at all the No-Faces and Half-Faces, which I do think are strictly derogatory) but if changing it to something less loaded wouldn't be an issue I'd probably do that. Both -hand and -brave are pretty awesome (the latter kinda reminds me of a warrior cat name but that's definitely a me problem), since they're either neutral or very positive in their connections.

Personally I care more about the fact that you're researching your character thoroughly, don't think that him being a burn survivor comes with some intrinsic negative traits, nor seem to put him in one of the Four Boxes. That's more important than terminology and vice versa - one could use the most up-to-date correct terms to refer to their OC and still make them into an offensive nightmare with bad execution. It doesn't mean that specific words aren't important but they (generally) aren't what breaks or makes representation that people want to see.

You seem to be doing good: my advice is to rethink the -brand part due to its connotations, and just keep researching as you write him.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[internetgiraffekid1673]

Bring Back the Bombshells Batgirls!

In helping a friend of mine map out who all has been Batgirl across various DC continuities, I remembered a little jaunt to TVtropes where it mentioned that in a charming little number called Bombshells, the batgirl identity is shared by a baseball team.

This reminded me to actually go READ Bombshells, and oh. My. GOSH. It is the BEST FUCKING THING EVER!

What is Bombshells?

Basically, almost every male superhero got yeeted from the story or relegated to side character/civilian, while every female superhero takes the spotlight and gets to KICK SOME NAZI ASS (it's set during world war 2). Plenty of people get spotlight, but I'm gonna argue that the MAIN characters are probably Kate Kane's batwoman, Diana of Themyscira's Wonder Woman, Mera's Aquawoman (she hates that name, lol), Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, Zatanna, and Kara Starikov's Supergirl. All the storylines tend to revolve around them.

Oh, also it's super gay. Like, every single character is a lesbian or bi, there's tons of ladies kissing and dating and having implied sex, and at least one character---one of the batgirls actually---is trans.

In summary, go read bombshells it's really good, but today I'm here to specifically talk about:

The Batgirls (and boys)

"One for the ribbon, two for the pearls! Three for the crimefighting---

So first off, Bombshells is an elseworld, so it can do whatever the fuck it wants with backstories and shit.

Subsequently; this version of Kate Kane is a major league baseball player, and her Batwoman costume is literally just a pallet swap of her baseball costume (plenty of people figure out her "secret" identity because of this, but she's not super concerned about it). She uses an actual bat as her main weapon as Batwoman, and it kicks ass. More fanfic writers, and hell, comics writers need to hand the Batfamily some baseball bats, because it gives us scenes like this:

Or this:

(Yes her bat has a gun, it's supplied by Amanda Waller through goverment money, don't question it. Her baseballs are also explosives).

Oh, and also this:

Anyway, point is, Batwoman has a bat and it's great. But this means when Gotham's bat-weilding protector gets drafted into the Bombshells to go fight Nazi's, some new faces have to pick up the slack in Gotham.

And so:

Inspired by their vigilante/baseball hero, Harper Row, Kathy Duquesne, and Nell Little pick up some bats of their own and start busting up crime! The three of them are mechanics, that old car is their batmobile, and they're the best of friends!

Of this original trio, Kathy is "the brass" or the leader, and she remains nominally in charge through the whole thing. Nell is "the brawn" and while every batgirl is good in a fight, Nell is a bit of a demolition specialist. Finally you have Harper, "the brain" who invents their gadgets, works on their batmobile, and also jokes that she's the mascot, as this whole thing was her idea.

They don't stay a trio for very long though! They're quickly joined by "the beauty" Alysia Yeoh, an old friend of Kathy's, in an effort to break Cullen Row out of a prison-like orphanage (she's the t-girl btw):

You may notice another girl crouched in the corner up there too! That's Bette Kane, Kate's niece and the rightful owner of Kane Industries who will forcibly take it over, clean it up, and use it for good on her 18th birthday in like a week!

In the meantime though, she heard about the batgirls and decided she wanted in! She crashes their jailbreak and helps them wreck shop! She mostly shares the "brass" role with Kathy---a leader in her own right.

Anyway, their now quintet quickly finds the awful headmistress of the Pinkney orphanage berating one Tim Drake, who still has a living dad somewhere, but was snatched up by a dirty cop because this whole city runs on Newsies rules (not even kidding, I'll get there in a sec). Turns out Tim and Alysia are old best friends. Anyway, Tim fills them in on the sitch: the headmisstress has been using the orphans as slave labor to build war robots for the nazis.

The batgirls (now including Tim!), bust up the basement and the robots, free all the orphanage kids, including Cullen, toss the awful headmistress and the dirty cop helping her to one Detectice Maggie Sawyer---Kate's wife---and the day is saved!

In the subsequent week, Bette takes over Kane Industries, starts funneling funds into housing for immigrants and refugees and relief and aid and all that good stuff, and also recruits the final batgirl of the team: Felicity Smoak (the chick in braids)! Thus we have a full team!

Who's who in the alt text

I'm only halfway through Bombshells, but the batgirls and their adventures are a recurring plot thread, since protecting Gotham is entirely up to them while Kate is away. They gain lots of other allies and enemies (including one hispanic immigrant Lois Lane who does straight up help them pull a newsies and make their own newspaper with the real news in it at one point), and their sections are probably one of my favorite parts about the comic. It just feels so sweet and high school, while still feeling Batman-esque/Gotham-typical.

Why You Should Care:

Now. I may only be halfway through Bombshells, but I am in LOVE. With the story and the characterizations and everything!!! And the batgirls are a personal fave of mine cuz I'm a sucker for found family and teens fighting crime and bat-weilding superheroes!

But my point is: for all that fanfic loves these tropes too, there is NO fanfiction for them (or at least not on ao3). There's practically nothing for the Bombshells continuity PERIOD, which is a shame, but also to be expected for an elseworld.

But that's why I'm here and telling you about it!

You guys! This is fanfiction! We love flinging the batfamily through alternate universes and making lots of different characters take on the familiar Batgirl and Robin roles!

Why not bring forth the Bombshells Batgirls?

If you're writing your own elseworld, I suggest you nab this adorable team, or something like it! If you're writing an alt universe crossover, feature these guys!

They are the Batfamily found family you want! They CALL THEMSELVES a Bat-family! They all move in together! They loooooovvveee each other! And, as is the nature of the Batgirl mantle, they do what they do largely as independent operatives without adult supervision!

I would really love to see these guys yeeted into an alternate universe and have to cope with just HOW different their continuity is. Not only will they inevitably be flung way into the future, since they're around in the 40s, but in most continuities they're completely unconnected from each other and are absolutely not a team of bat-weilding crime fighters! It would be so baffling for any mainline batgirl and robin to meet a team that is so disconnected from them and so unconditionally supportive of each other and so Badass Adorable!

In Summary:

I may have lost the plot a little with this, but my points are:

Bombshells is really good and you should all go read it

Bombshells has a team of adorable bat-weilding batgirls that has all the found family crime fighting tropes you could want without the bad blood of the mainline batfam

More people should write fanfiction for Bombshells

The Bombshells!Batgirls in particular I think are a great place to start with that. Nab the premise of a baseball team being crime fighters, or Gotham being protected by a group of scrappy children whenever the big bad vigilantes are away, or give these colorful kids their Bombshells!backstories.

Also use the Bombshells universe in particular when you're flinging bats across the multiverse. Yeet these babies into a mainline comics verse and let the juxtaposition and chaos run WILD! There's a million and one of these fics for the Young Justice cartoon, I know ya'll can do it for Bombshells

Also. Take every opportunity to give your Batfamily, and your Batgirls in particular, an actual bat. It'll be so much fun, I promise

Anyway, I'll probably be back with another Bombshells rant later, PEACE!

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

This thoughts still cooking, so it might not make sense, but I think Thomas (Tomas?) Astruc is a very good case study on how being too attached to your own ideas can hinder your story telling.

I don't mean this in a "Thomas's original idea for the series was bad", but rather that he seems so attached to this concept that he can't stand other people having a differing view from him.

Chloe's the titular example here. Some people thought she deserved a redemption arc, and instead of just saying "nah, I don't think so" and continuing to write her the same way he had been, he had to prove them wrong, prove that his idea was the only correct one, and so turned her into the spawn of Satan and let her rule over Paris for some reason.

Instead of making Marinette less stalker-y, he wrote an entire episode poorly justifying it. And, imao, somewhat diminishing what PTSD actually is and does to people.

I'm not saying he has to make any change (though I think making Marinette less stalker-y would be a good change), but instead of 1.) sticking to his resolve or 2.) taking the criticism, he clung dearly onto this perception of his characters and his writing suffered because of how much he had to twist things to "prove" that his original assertions were right. And also that everyone who disagreed with him was wrong and didn't understand

idk if that makes sense, but the concepts been lingering in my head recently

It makes perfect sense! I've had similar thoughts. It's hard to say for sure, but Miraculous may be a case study in "kill your darlings". I'm not deep into the behind-the-scenes lore and I was not here in the early fandom, but I do know that, at some point, a much darker version of the show was pitched. That's why these exist (image source):

[Image description: two sketches styled like comic book covers. Both have the title "The Mini Menace Ladybug". The left cover shows Marinette's silhouette in a doorway. The door's glass and the glass of a nearby window are broken. In the foreground lies a hand holding a ladybug charm. The hand is limp and surrounded by blood, implying that someone is injured or dead. The right cover is Ladybug doing a spinning kick while looking angry.]

We also have this evidence of the darker original concept:

Jeremy Zag then proposed another project... which he was unable to sell to broadcasters... the project was called "Ladybug". No one was interested, as the project was aimed more at an adult audience... Sébastien had to make sure that the project could be broadcast on Disney and TF1.... Thomas wanted to make a series for adults, but at the time, it was very complicated to make a cartoon for adults. What's more, they didn't have enough money to take on such a project. Sébastien finally agreed, but there were some changes to be made, which Thomas accepted... In the end, Thomas Astruc's entire project was discarded, leaving only the love story between the two heroes and the city of Paris, where the story was to take place.

I've been aware of this darker origin story for a while due to Tumblr and, because of this knowledge, I have often had the thought, "are the writers trying to sneak elements from this darker version into canon?" Because that's the most likely explanation for what's going on here.

If I'm right, then I think that was a terrible move on their parts. They needed to let go of the story that they couldn't sell and embrace the story that they're being allowed to tell. It's why "kill you darlings" is such good advice. Many good stories have been ruined by writers clinging to an idea that ultimately doesn't work for some reason.

It's why the sitcom How I Met Your Mother has such a universally hated ending. The show was originally supposed to go for two seasons and so they wrote an ending that would fit the second season. The show ended up running for nine seasons and, by then, the ending didn't fit, but the writers kept it and left everyone with a bad taste in their mouths, which is not what any writer wants. That's why you have to do what's best for the story even if it means abandoning something that you really love.

This early version of canon may also be why the writers are so obsessed with Marinette. My understanding is that this concept had her mainly acting as a solo hero and, oh look! What is one of canon's biggest problems? Marinette being treated like a solo hero even though she has a partner and, later on, a team!

Not saying that this theory has to be true, just saying that it would explain some things. And if they're poisoning canon by trying to include elements from their darker original? Then it makes sense to assume that they're also doing it for smaller stuff. Like I'm pretty sure I've read that the head writer wanted Chat Blanc to be a lot darker originally, but no one would green light it, so we got an incredibly lackluster episode that spat in the face of the genres Miraculous' is trying to be part of while also falling to have the sort of impact we'd expect from an episode like that. It's a good example of a darling that really should have been killed. It just doesn't fit.

(Totally unrelated sidenote, but is your blog name from Tangled? Because that's what I immediately thought of and it made me smile!)

[theblogwithoutfear]

karen page is so annoying in the show...is she better in the comics somehow or is she just like that

So I've actually wanted to talk about this forever, but I kept forgetting to make a post about it. Your ask is a perfect opportunity to write down all my thoughts. Brace yourself, because I have a lot to say. Sorry in advance lmao

I actually prefer Karen in the show. To be fair, I have not finished all the comics, but so far I think her TV counterpart is a lot better (I still like her a lot in the comics tho, don't get me wrong). The NMCU version of Karen Page also has a lot of Kirsten McDuffie (another comic book girlfriend) in her, which is great in my opinion.

A lot of people find her annoying, but to me it's her flaws that make her such a fantastic character. She isn't a caricature, stock-girlfriend character pulled from a box of tropes; she's a well-rounded individual, extremely realistic, a mirror of Matt Murdock, and a woman with real agency. Her actions have major consequences on the plot. In my opinion, a lot of superhero girlfriends (in comics, movies, TV, whatever) are written more like props than characters, and they don't have any agency or actual plot relevance. Which is why, when a lot of them die, their deaths feel so cheap and inconsequential. That's where fridging comes from. It's been a problem with superheroes since their very inception; and a problem in storytelling at large. So often in fiction, women are flat and unrealistic.

So to me, Karen's heavily-flawed character is refreshing. She is extremely impulsive; she's deeply intelligent, but makes such stupid decisions; she can be hypocritical, self-destructive, and petty. Sometimes she manipulates people, even unintentionally. She's very well-meaning, but constantly makes mistakes. And it's these mistakes that move the plot forward, and reveal important things about both her and Matt. Her actions have real consequences for the story, and she undertakes her own journey throughout the narrative. She is almost as much a protagonist as Matt is, in terms of her character development and growth.

For that matter, every one of the flaws that I listed are things that Matt does too. They are almost perfect mirrors of each other; people who are immensely concerned with justice and compassion, people who care for the truth, and people who want to make their city a better place. However, as they go about it, they stumble and make mistakes and endanger other people. They're hypocritical and contradictory and impulsive. They constantly have to call their own moralities into question, because they almost never live up to their high ideals.

(Also, as a side note, I think many of Karen's flaws—as with Matt's—come as a direct result of all the trauma she's been through: her mother's death, her brother's death, her alcoholism and drug addiction, her dad cutting her off, being framed for murder, almost getting murdered in prison, etc. So I think it's fair to give her some grace.)

But what makes both Karen and Matt so lovable, imo, is that they keep trying. No matter what mistakes they make, they get back up and try again. They do everything they can to atone for the blood on their hands.

I think also (and I'm not accusing you of this, just a certain subset of people in the fandom) that people are more willing to accept Matt's flaws than Karen's—because there's a lot of misogyny built into our society, and there's this ingrained idea that women have to be paragons of virtue. Women, both in fiction and in reality, tend to be put under a microscope and dissected, while men can get away with a lot more. So Matt and Karen have identical flaws, but only Karen gets hate for it, which makes me very sad.

It may be the writer in me, but imo flaws are what make a character—and a story—meaningful. A well-flawed character can take a ridiculous, implausible story and make it feel grounded and real and impactful. A well-flawed woman even more so. I love Karen for the same reason I love Jessica Jones and Wanda Maximoff; or, to go beyond Marvel, for the same reason I love Jo March and Katniss Everdeen and Miss Haversham and Katherina Molina. They all elevate their respective stories beyond the initial premise and plot. Flawed female characters are realistic and impactful, and therefore empowering.

Obviously, to each their own. Some people just find her annoying and don't like her personality, and that's fine. But for me, that's what makes her feel real, and that's why I love her.

[havendance]

Year One vs Zero Year: A Tale of Two Batmen

(You can also read this on AO3 if you want)

In the introduction to the Batman: Year One collected edition, Dennis O’Neil writes about the impetus behind the post-crisis reboot—things had become dated and it was time to revamp their most iconic characters: Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman. “The writers assigned to the task had quick and clear ideas about how to update Superman and Wonder Woman, but Batman was a problem. He was fine just as he was.” Batman: Year One was not a story that was trying to reinvent Batman, it was a story that was trying to distill him, to revisit and retell his origin for a new era of DC storytelling. Whatever you may think of Frank Miller, he and David Mazzucchelli certainly succeeded with that goal.

While I don’t have a nice clear editorial quote like that for Batman: Zero Year, it’s clear that Synder was trying to do the same with the story. Zero Year is a Batman origin for the new era of storytelling that was the New 52. It has its nods to Miller—it has to, simply existing after Year One’s influential rewrite of Bruce’s origin—but it owes far more to the Batman of the golden age in it's story beats. It is not just Batman: Year One for the New 52, it is the Batman origin of the post-flashpoint comics, it's art and storytelling reflecting this Batman of a new era.

Batman’s origin has always been consistent in its strokes: Bruce Wayne’s parents are killed by a mugger. Devastated, the young boy swears to devote his life to justice. He trains both body and mind, until finally ready to begin, a bat flies through the window, and he takes it as an sign that he should become Batman—a creature that strikes fear in the hearts of criminals. It can be summarized in a page or two to get the audience up to speed.

(Batman’s Origin as told in Batman #47)

Neither Year One nor Zero Year change any of the fundamental pieces, but the narratives that surround them are vastly different. Year One seeks to tell a Batman origin grounded in reality as much as it can. In an afterward by David Mazzuchelli in the Batman: Year One collected edition he writes that “with year one, we sought to craft a credible Batman, grounded in a world we recognize”. The main enemy that Bruce Wayne faces is corruption: in the police and in the leading families of Gotham. Beside Gordon and Alfred, the other members of the Batman mythos that are present are Selina Kyle, just beginning to put on the catsuit and Harvey Dent prior to becoming Two Face, both of them surrounded by plausibility and grit. The Joker gets a single name drop at the end. It takes up four issues and covers the span of a year, covering the emergence of Batman’s mission

In contrast, Zero Year is bombastic. It’s a story full of bright colors and fantastic events: explosions, blimp chases, and Gotham city cut off and run as the Riddler’s personal fiefdom. It’s longer—spanning 10 issues—and covers a significantly shorter period of time. In it, Batman faces the Joker, The Riddler, and a bone-mutated mad scientist foe who’s name I don’t remember. Pamela Isley and the Penguin are alluded to as well. The giant penny plays a role in the plot. It calls back to many pieces of golden age lore, such as Bruce’s Uncle Philip Kane, and his love interest Julie Madison. (For a more modern retelling of the golden age Batman’s origin, see Secret Origins (1986) #6)

(The Batman: Year One and Batman: Zero Year trades. Please also note that the Year One trade contains at least an extra issue’s worth of bonus content at the end, where the Zero Year trade only has some variant covers)

There is also a difference in attitude between the two origins. Year One is a comic that is trying to escape the bounds of genre; Zero Year is a comic that revels in it. Part of it is the tone��Year One is setting itself in contrast to the Batman of the past in its commitment to realism rather than melodrama. Part of it is the art. In terms of color, the original printing of Year One and Zero Year are very similar. In Year One, this is because of technical limitations. There are only so many colors, most of them bright, and still Richmond Lewis works to create a strong sense of atmosphere to highlight the noir-type story that is being told. Zero Year uses these colors as a deliberate homage to comics of the past. It’s filled with bright pinks, blues, yellows, and greens set in contrast to each other. It’s beautiful. It’s also a clear stylistic choice.

Richmond redid the colors of Year One for later reprintings. While beautiful, they are far more subdued and muted. It’s clearly the sort of look they wanted for Year One from the beginning, but could not achieve. In contrast, Zero Year stands out from the comics surrounding it in the first half of the New 52 precisely because everything else is illustrated in this overly realistic dull and gritty style.

(Batman #405 — original printing vs recolor)

(Batman (2011) #22 vs Batman (2011) #1 — These comics have the same colorist, but clearly different philosophies guiding them)

This can also be seen in the Batman costumes themselves. While both Year One and Zero Year are drawing from the same original Batman costume from Detective Comics #27, they take different parts. Year One’s Batman suit has a simple and streamlined black and grey. The Zero Year suit keeps the purple gloves.

(From left to right: Batman in Detective Comics #27, Batman #405, and Batman (2011) #24. While the image from Detective Comics #27 is faded, note that the gloves are purple)

This contrast isn’t just in the origins themselves—it is the comics that surround and follow them as well. Year One and Zero Year are origins for two different eras of Batman. I’ve read primarily post-crisis Batman comics and am less familiar with the pre-crisis era, so I can’t say how much of the storylines that followed were specifically picking up on Year One’s influence, and how much was just the natural change in storytelling direction, but throughout the major Batman events of the Post-Crisis era, there is a throughline of sensibilities that they share with Year One. AsYear One set out to tell the grounded origin of the Batman, so do many of the foes and challenges he faces have this grounded nature to them as well. They all still have a larger than life feel, but the foes Batman faces tend to fall into the categories of crime (Knightfall, War Games), natural disasters (Contagion, Legacy, Cataclysm), and himself (all of them, but more specifically Murderer/Fugitive and arguably a Lonely Place of Dying as well). These are events that start from a realistic starting point that are magnified. Earthquakes, outbreaks of disease, a gang war—these are all things that could happen to any city. Any man could lose a son or be framed for murder. The heightened nature of these stories is what separates them from the real world.

(Even an event like No Man’s Land, with its premise of ‘Gotham getting kicked out the United States’ that stretches the suspension of disbelief, is intensely focused on what this means for the city that remains. It cares about grounding the fantastic events in real reactions.)

In contrast, post-flashpoint events tend to have this more fantastical feel. The Night of the Owls does not put Bruce up against ordinary corruption among the elite, but against a masked conspiracy with immortal assassins at their disposal. The driving force of Robin War is not the idealism of the We Are Robin movement against a city that doesn’t like or trust them, but a power play by the Court of Owls. In Night of the Monster Men, Batman and co. fight Kaiju-like monsters; there are themes of contagion throughout the story, but this isn’t a hopeless fight against that ancient enemy of humanity that is disease, it’s a thrilling, action-packed fight. One approach is not necessarily better than the other, but they are fundamentally different paradigms of storytelling. I remember reading Night of the Monster Men at the same time as the lead up to Bruce Wayne: Murdere/Fugitive and thinking that they didn’t feel anything alike.

 Unlike Year One, Zero Year does not feel like a origin point for this shift in narrative focus. The beginning of the new52, while having the benefit of being the beginning of a new era, also isn’t it—these storytelling trends could be seen in the comics leading up to Flashpoint as well. If I had to pick an event that started to show this shift, it would be Batman RIP. Morrison’s love for silver age comics and deep cuts to lore lead it to having that same fantastical feel. While the Batman of Morrison’s run is nominatively the one of Year: One, he fits more in line with the storytelling motivations of Zero Year—the callbacks to older ages (Morrisons’ Batman definitely wore the purple gloves), the extreme feats of survival, the larger than life events. Year One was an origin for an era that had come to an end.

A new Batman origin was inevitable, if for no other reason than the constant passage of time. One of the big differences between Year One and Zero Year is the sheer difference in the type of technology Batman uses in each. In Year One, there is no Bat-Computer. Bruce has his grappling hooks, his smoke bombs, his ultrasonic device that summons hoards of bats—It’s all far too simple for a Batman of today’s world. Zero Year has computers everywhere and Batman’s gadgets are upgrading to fit the glitz and advancement of the modern era. The New52 gave DC the chance to revisit it and for better or for worse, no one could call Zero Year, ‘Year One only set 30 years later’. Both works are products of their times, and both works show the audience not only the basic beats of Bruce’s origin, but also what a Batman story looks like. Together, they show the way that he has evolved as a character over the years. Maybe in 15 years, DC will put out another origin epic for Batman. Chances are, he’ll have changed yet again.

[bird-inacage]

Love Sea the Series: Intro (First Impressions & Predictions)

Because I'm a huge over-analyser whose known for my lengthy BL essays - here are my takeaways from the very brief glimpse we got to Mahasamut and Tongrak. They gave us literally a 1 minute teaser, so as you can imagine, I'm filling in a lot of blanks at this stage.

TONGRAK

Tongrak looks like he's going to be an unapologetic menace. A very sexy and sassy menace. He has an air of blasé indifference which screams 'yeah and so what?' you're not the boss of me'. Someone whose clearly a bit prickly, petulant and headstrong. Writers are often independent or even loners, as it's a very solitary field. They have a very strong vision of what they want, which can mean a reluctance to compromise.

I mentioned that he gives 'I know I'm hot shit' energy. He exudes a confident sexuality which is shown in how assertive he is when flirting and the smugness in how he retorts. He knows he's hot commodity and isn't afraid to flaunt it. Probably is used to having people wrapped around his little finger. 'We play by my rules, I decide if I want you or not'. At worst he may even see people around him as playthings.

Based on the general premise of the series, Tongrak comes to the seaside for inspiration. Uppity cosmopolitan city boy thrown in to the bohemian outdoors. He looks very noticeably out of place in this setting. But he may use that to his advantage, knowing others are looking at him, dazzled by a prince in the middle of literal nowhere.

MAHASAMUT

Now what comes across most strongly about Mahasamut is that he's clearly very possessive. This is signposted multiple times in this brief introduction alone. He steals Tongrak away when he's flirting with someone else. He drags him by the wrist across the beach. I assume at this point they've not known each other long and he's being very handsy and grabby. He asserts that Tongrak 'will have to love him.' (Which could mean: I'll make you fall in love with me whether you like it or not, OR you falling in love with me is inevitable because I'm just too goddamn charming). Pretty presumptuous all the same.

This tells us that Mahasamut is equally self-assured. He has bags of confidence in his ability to keep Tongrak interested. Though he's being turned down, he doesn't appear dissuaded or phased in the slightest. Whether this is due to being generally a bit thick-headed, or putting on a front in order not to let Tongrak feel like he's won, is too early to say.

It's also worth noting that people who have such confidence in their conviction often haven't failed before. And there's a certain naivete in that. It's the whole 'through hard work and determination I can conquer all' mentality, which is not always the case.

RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC

Now what really fascinates me about this collision of personalities is that these two are going to butt heads. A lot. Whether that's in a good-humoured tug of war, or a stubborn battle of wills. Tongrak is resistant in a 'I refuse to compromise' type of way. Mahasamut is persistent in a 'I refuse to let it go' type of way (like a dog with a bone). Neither wants to give in. Both are declaring, 'you're going to want me'.

So Tongrak and Mahasamut are not your typical match on paper. There will be fireworks (most likely good and bad). It'll probably take them much longer to find equal footing that goes beyond just sexual attraction or lust. This is why I've got a hunch the love scenes are going to pop off. We're going to get angry sex, I'm calling it now.

You could argue that Tongrak and Mahasamut do share some similarities with Sky and Prapai - particularly with the bickering and chasing - just dialled up to 100.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS

ATMOSPHERE: The setting by the sea should prove to be a really interesting way of playing on tone. Watching those two interact whilst the wind blew around them, with the crashing of the waves in the distance was a whole mood.

CONTEXT: This feels leaps and bounds removed from the more grounded setting of Love in the Air. It almost feels like a summer fling. We're getting what appears to be a more adult backdrop, which I always greatly appreciate within the BL genre.

STYLING: Tongrak's outfits are going to murder me. The silky, drapey, billowy, low cut shirts with ample collarbone on show? CHRIST. Paired with the dainty jewellery. Kill me now.

Also, love the fact they were referring to each other as 'MISTER' and 'SIR'. Like SIR, DO YOU MIND? SIR, I'VE GOT A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU. SOMETHING GOT YOU HOT AND BOTHERED, SIR?

[kiyo-cant-write]

Picture the couple dynamic of Riddle dating a male Yuu and Floyd. Just the fact a date night could be dancing the waltz with Riddle then Club dancing with Floyd.

dating floyd/riddle (florid x yuu) ✧･���

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Hello anon! I hope I interpreted this right! If I made a mistake please request it again and I will try to fix it >.< ;;

Regardless though, I am proud of how this turned out, I think it's cute, and I hope that you like it :D I read this as poly so wrote it as such. Which is easily done for me as a queer poly writer ww

Thank you for requesting!!! SORRY I ACCIDENTALLY USED THEY AND CANT CHANGE IT 😭🩵

Note for everyone that I have a few requests left from earlier to get done before the close of the year and then everything else sent from here on will not be posted until 2025 January. Please keep this in mind, thank you for supporting me!

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Summary: Date nights can be interesting when Floyd is in a mood and Riddle, after some prodding, feels competitive. [Name] is in for a ride tonight, huh? The homework will have to wait.

TW/CW: polyamory

Notes: established relationship, the reader is Ramshackle Prefect/Yuu, they/them, pronouns for the reader, FloRid, explicitly post Book 3

Guest Stars: Jade Leech (mentioned), Trey Clover (mentioned)

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

FloRid x Yuu (Polycule)

Floyd was the one who approached you first but Riddle was the one who proposed an actual relationship. They've competed since.

For whatever reason [Name] is the reason they compete and the force that can make them work together all the same.

Dates with Floyd are spontaneous and fun.

He likes to go dancing or visit sights. He always buys weird things.

Depending on the outing, there may be a souvenir for Jade.

Riddle prefers quieter things mostly but bigger events are always classy as if from a storybook. Floyd makes fun of this.

Riddle has not had much relationship experience up until now.

Trey once told [Name] that it is "very like Riddle" to make the decision to "over-achieve" and have two partners instead of one.

Trey also notes that this might be a rebellion against his mother.

As much as they compete with each other to take [Name] on the best dates, they also work together for bigger events like [Name]'s birthday or an anniversary for the three of them.

Even if they seem at odds, Floyd and Riddle do care for each other in their own way. Their love for each other is expressed through their bickering, it seems. Please bear with them.

And, hey. [Name] gets discounts and Mostro Lounge now and has two "scary dogs" should anything go wrong.

"What did you say to Shrimpy? Wanna get squeezed?"

"I'll have you know that's against school rules. Off with y-"

"We should go," Floyd commented, lying on the couch in a way that made [Name] wonder if he had bones. This is boring."

They sighed at Floyd's impatience. They had agreed, the three of them, to only go down to the city (with the permission of the faculty) after they had finished their work. Floyd didn't care much for homework, but Riddle had become so furious about the possibility of getting a zero on an assignment that both [Name] and Floyd ceded.

"I know it's boring but we promised Riddle," [Name] chose to say.

"I knowwwww," Floyd whined, "But you didn't say it would take this long. We're never going to make it down there at this rateeee."

Riddle turned to Floyd, glaring.

"Well maybe if someone helped build this model we'd be done by now. But a certain eel I know decided he wasn't in the mood for homework."

It was said through gritted teeth, Riddle was holding back his anger.

"Aww, Riddle is mad at me~" Floyd cooed at him.

The eelmer had only recently started calling Riddle and [Name] by their actual names and not some ocean creature nickname. Cute as the nicknames were (well [Name] liked theirs, Riddle hated his), it was nice to be seen as... people. And not fish. That might not make sense if it weren't about Floyd the chaos demon.

"I am mad at you. We need to finish this model or Professor Trein will... I don't know but I don't want to find out!" Riddle told them.

"Riddle... Maybe we should take a little break," [Name] suggested, reaching out to rest a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Riddle tensed slightly at the contact before relaxing against their hand. He was slowly becoming more used to things like this.

"See? [Name] gets me."

Floyd gave a big toothy grin their way.

"Floyd, I don't approve of you not helping, you know."

They shot him a glare.

"Sorrryyyy~" Floyd apologized though [Name] was unsure if he meant it genuinely, "Just bored out of my damn mind, here."

"I know you two want to go, but if we fail this..." Riddle trailed off for a second, looking toward the floor.

[Name] sighed again, looking between their boyfriends.

"I know, Riddle... Grades matter. But so does going out once in a while so we don't all get cabin fever."

Riddle nodded slowly.

"You're right...." he told [Name], though he seemed a bit unsure.

"And we have plans for later tonight," [Name] added, smiling.

They did have plans. Riddle and Floyd had worked out something so both of their ideas were able to come to fruition (though Floyd summarized in a much more crude way to [Name], saying "this date night being like if our ideas fucked!"). Floyd had said this in front of Trey Clover who pretended not to hear it. It had been... a day.

"We made a deal," Floyd added, now upsidedown on the couch for some reason, "Deals are serious in the mind of us merfolk, ya know. Azul'd tell you. Me first, then you, date night!"

"That's one way to summarize it, yes..." Riddle paused once more, "You're both right. Let's just... set it aside for now, and, um, go."

"Yay!" [Name] cheered.

"FUCK YEAH!"

Floyd tackled Riddle in a hug that knocked the Heartslabyul housewarden to the ground. Still, the redhead did not complain (this time anyway). Floyd would do as Floyd does.

"We need to get ready to go unless you want to wear uniforms?" [Name] said, looking between Floyd and Riddle dressed in their dorm attire, "Though I'm not sure that's appropriate dress..."

"I'll change into something."

"I have a whole thing planned, Shrimpy~"

[45 MINUTES LATER]

As it would seem. they still had plenty of time. While [Name] needed some time to get dressed and ready, it would seem the second years were both capable of clothes-changing magic. Riddle's the seamless and instant whereas Floyd took a few tries as his magic can be fickle.

"Ready!" [Name] called, running down the stairs towards the two boys they loved the most.

Riddle wearing a suit that [Name] thought looked expensive and Floyd dressed like he was some model (they were always impressed with his sense of style). It was a sight to see, for them only they liked to think. These two were something special.

Floyd took their hand in his.

"My turn first, Riddle said so."

"Just don't get arrested," Riddle quipped.

Heading into town, Floyd had managed to find a club that allowed high schoolers in some areas, a place where they could dance their cares away. [Name] was excited, they knew Floyd could dance well when he was in the mood for it. Jade had told them so.

Floyd pulled Riddle and [Name] onto the floor and guided them to the sound of the music, telling them about his day and making fun of Riddle's inability to dance to the club's choice of music.

"It's not the kind I'm used to!" Riddle protested.

"You look like a fish out of water," Floyd teased, "[Name] can do it, you try harder and maybe you'll catch up to us, Fishie~"

"You shut up, Floyd!"

Riddle's face was as bright red as his hair and [Name] almost wanted to laugh. They were sure it took a lot of planning and compromise to get Riddle to agree to come to a place like this with the two of them.

They couldn't help but wonder what Riddle's "turn" for date night would entail. Floyd took them somewhere Riddle didn't like... Would Riddle be messing with Floyd too? All in good fun, of course, part of being in a relationship is trying new things with and for each other.

As the minutes ticked by, the time came for Riddle to take over.

"This better not be something boring like studying," Floyd told him.

"I wouldn't take you out to the town to study," Riddle said, "A study date would happen at [Name]'s dorm or somewhere else."

"Blehh, study dates are so boring. You made us read advanced textbooks!" Floyd groaned.

"It will help your grades."

Riddle thought it would, anyway.

"My grades are fine!" Floyd told them.

Riddle was sure that was a lie. Floyd shifted drastically between getting high grades and low ones that scared the professors.

"Are they?" Riddle asked him.

[Name] raised a brow.

"Yeah... Are they, Floyd?"

Floyd ignored the question and Riddle led them towards an older-looking building, something similar to their school. Was it a dance hall? He held a hand in each of his as he guided them into what might as well be called "Riddle's version of a dance club." It was some kind of social club, everyone dressed in formal wear similar to Riddle's suit.

[Name] felt a bit out of place but remained comfortable with their hand in Riddle's and surrounded by the tall eelmer whose clothing was also mismatched to the event. They knew if something truly went wrong, Floyd would end everyone here... Even if that was a bit scary to imagine. They hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"Shall we?" Riddle asked [Name], guiding them towards the dancefloor.

Floyd let go of Riddle's hand at the same moment.

"This kinda thing is too stuffy for me, you guys have fun~ I'm gonna go see what food they have."

Floyd grinned and [Name] (and Riddle] felt bad for those at the food table. It would be okay... maybe.

[Name] turned to Riddle.

"Let's do this," they said, following him and allowing Riddle to guide them in a simple waltz to the beautiful music.

"I hope this is fun for you," Riddle whispered to his lover.

"I feel underdressed but this is nice," [Name] told him, "And there's even a fountain of shrimp for Floyd to gnaw on."

The two continued to dance in circles, every once in a while catching a glimpse of Floyd eating food and scaring guests with his teeth.

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Imagine the rest yourself~

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[itsabouttimex2]

Monkie Kid Villain Fates

A more in-depth look (especially for Macaque) down below!

(I know I’ve been posting a lot of content that’s outside my usual, and I hope no one minds too much! I’m cleansing my palate to prep for Season Five, which I am very excited to write for. ((Especially for Li Jing and Nuwa!!!)) So here’s a slew of my thoughts on the villains, and which one is my least favorite!)

(Spoilers: his name is written in purple above.)

Disclaimer 1: I am not counting instances of “throwing your lot in with the heroes when the world is at stake” as redeeming moments. If you only do something because it personally benefits you at the moment, it’s not exactly selfless.

Disclaimer 2: Redemption means three things-

1. The character acknowledges their wrongdoings.

2. The character works to become a better person.

3. The character makes amends/reparations for the harm they’ve done, without the threat of death hanging overhead. Good must be done of one’s own will and volition.

Disclaimer 3: A character not being redeemed doesn’t make them a bad character. In fact, some characters work better without redemption. (Like the Lady Bone Demon.) I just wanted to make a villain tier list and talk on some of the people it contained.

Red Son: Decently humanizing interactions with Mei, but ultimately uncaring of all the damage and harm that he’s caused, especially in regards to potential deaths during his attacks on the city. Unfortunately, the first example of “pretty much unrepentant but universally-forgiven”. (Fix: Have him interact with people harmed by his villainy, and resolve to help them- even if only by repairing their destroyed vehicles. Something small enough to be reasonably in line with his pride and arrogance, but enough to show that he’s become a better person.)

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Macaque: The worst villain here. Utterly unrepentant and shameless, outwardly cruel and violent… but still got a “you’re not a bad guy” speech before actually showing that he wasn’t a bad guy. Despite being able to skip fights with his shadow portals, he intentionally stuck around to raze the Dragon Palace of the East Sea to the ground. (AO GUANG AND HIS PEOPLE’S STATUS ARE STILL UNKNOWN) This still hasn’t been addressed in canon, not even by Mei, who was related to those who lived there. Instead, she has a team-up with him, never addressing the still unknown fate of her uncle. Never apologizes, never makes amends, never tries to repair the damage he’s done… but allowed to stick around all the same. Where characters like Azure or LBD do what they do because they truly believe in their causes, Macaque is just having fun hurting people. Again, given his ability to shadow-portal, he doesn’t even have the “I’m trying to save my own life” excuse. He could’ve just skipped the torment and violence, but explicitly chose not to, and is always happy to inflict harm- even bragging about what he did to the Dragon Palace.

Also, I don’t give a single shit that Peng “bullied” him. It doesn’t make Macaque more sympathetic, it makes him less. He knows what it’s like to be insulted and berated for your nature, then (unhesitatingly and gleefully) does the same to MK, who may well be a child?

Yeah, no. Then, his “awesome” team-up with Mei only serves to rip agency and nuance from her character, turning this caring and energetic warrior into an amnesiac that doesn’t care about her family for the sake of “Boo-hoo, Peng hit me once to protect someone they care about!” So, Mei holds grudges, right? That would make her a more interesting character! But no! No, no, no! That’s just for Peng! Her grudge isn’t against the man who essentially attempted genocide on her people and razed an ancestral palace full of innocent people to the ground, no!

OF COURSE NOT, SILLY!!

Because then Macaque’s actions would have something called “consequences”, and the writers just won’t allow it! Because he’s just a murderous, violent, manipulative, cruel, spiteful, villain! How dare we expect any actual comeuppance for his crimes? No, we can’t have that!

Oh, and how does he help MK in the fourth season? How about he outright tells (great storytelling, btw) MK about how delusional Azure Lion is- a character with which he has no tie with beyond a tenuous past oath and no actual interactions. This moment could have easily been given to, you know, Wukong! Or Yellowtusk, if they were going the full redemption arc route for him, but no!

We have to pretend that Macaque’s input on a character he has no interactions with is important! Oh, and they let him play mentor to MK, who he has: manipulated, betrayed, violently assaulted, stole the powers of, berated, and attempted to kill.

Does MK care about any of this?

OF COURSE NOT!

But MK is absolutely furious and heartbroken at Azure for doing maybe half of those things, and with an honestly noble reason to boot.

Ugh.

I think it’s only made worse by the fact that people get so mad when there’s any criticism of Macaque “redemption arc”. Throwing actual fits and constantly arguing when someone dares to say “everyone allowing Macaque (and many other villains) to get away with the worst of his actions and not holding him accountable for being a genuinely dangerous, unrepentant and violent criminal is bad and makes the “heroic” characters around him look worse.”

And you can’t use the “well, he didn’t get a redemption arc!” The writers didn’t try to redeem him!” defense.

Because, yes. Yes they did.

We are supposed to think this guy is better now. The series wants you to think of him as redeemed.

MK leaves him handmade food and a drawing. His “you’re not a bad guy” speech is supposed to be taken as truth. Wukong is making amends with him (sharing smiles and offering food) and no one has any personal problems on the guy sticking around (which makes them all seem blander, given that at least one of his victims should be upset), which is portrayed in a positive light.

This is portrayed as good.

THE WRITERS CONSIDER MACAQUE AS DESERVING AND WORTHY OF THIS. THEY THINK HE HAS EARNED IT.

So yes- he is supposed to be “redeemed”.

But he isn’t. He really, really, isn’t.

(Fix: God, where do we start? Some remorse? An apology? Have every character not forgive him immediately? Have Mei not forget about the razing of an ancestral palace? Have Pigsy threaten to kill him if he tries to hurt MK again? Have Tang refuse to interact with him? Anything would have been nice.)

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Jin and Yin: No redemption arc at all. Essentially forgotten about by the show. They show up with the Scorpion Queen, but don’t have a satisfying send-off. It’s just a little funny scene. (Potential fix: more interactions with them as stagehands, working for the community. Why make them neutral only to shift immediately back to evil? It could’ve been nice to see them integrate into society instead of being turned evil again and written out of the story with little fanfare.)

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Demon Bull King: Same as Red Son, but without the humanizing interactions with a heroic character. Bonus points for putting his life in danger to save Wukong and MK, despite gaining nothing for doing so. Unfortunately, aside from that, another “pretty much unrepentant but universally-forgiven” character. (Potential fix: Would’ve been nice to have more positive interactions between him and Wukong. Maybe talk about how hard it is to open up and be soft when they dedicated so much of their lives to being strong? Chat about his struggles adjusting to the modern era? Have him show clear remorse for mistreating his extremely loyal son?)

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Princess Iron Fan: Not much to say. Same as her husband, same solution. Really wish she had gotten some more screen time outside of her family. (Fix: Maybe flesh out her bond with Jin and Yin? I know it was supposed to be a funny “noodle incident”, but learning about their past could’ve been nice- maybe we could’ve gotten a scene of her with little Red Son to humanize her a bit?)

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As it says on the tin. I’ll do this all in one quick chunk.

Nothing much to say here- but it would’ve been nice to have one of the spiders survive and redeem themselves, especially since that it was teased for Huntsman.

I wish Goliath (not even his real name btw) hadn’t been such a nothing character. Like, we really don’t learn a single thing about him.

I pity the Ink Curse. Created to be a tool of torture, never allowed to love or be loved. Poor thing.

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Mayor: One of Season Four’s biggest flaws is that it could really feel disconnected from the previous three, which all felt very tightly interwoven. Example one: Mei “no longer *wielding* the Samadhi Fire”, when it had previously been established that she fused with it. Example two: The mayor’s fate is never addressed, despite being such a prominent enemy. (Fix: Just… tell us what happened to him. Is he in jail? Did he escape justice? Did someone just… murder him? I don’t care if “it’s being saved for Season Five”. It’s weird to just forget about someone so dangerous in universe.)

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Kui Mulang: Presumably either dead or returned to the Celestial Realm for punishment. Unlikely that we’ll receive further information on him.

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Peng: Probable that we’ll receive an update on their status in Season Five. Very interesting character with a few humanizing moments (being close to Yellowtusk and Azure, being upset when Monkey King was trapped in the scroll) that keep them from being irredeemable. Actually a better person than Macaque, given that they never remorselessly razed a palace of innocent people to the ground. Or tried to murder an innocent kid who wasn’t involved with their fight at all. Or held a young lady’s life hostage and threatened to murder her. But they’re sort of mean, so I guess people consider them irredeemable? Super weird.

Like, Peng is an asshole, sure. They clearly aren’t in this fight out of the goodness of their heart. But the awful way they get treated in the fandom is insane, especially with the babying treatment that other villainous characters (like Macaque, the Mayor, and Red Son) get.

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Azure Lion: Macaque, but better written! Letting MK be angry at a person who: manipulated, lied to, and betrayed him? Not having his misdeeds be forgotten and glossed over? People actually being upset at what he’s done further than a few minutes after he’s done it? Incredible character! This is what I’ve wanted from Monkie Kid for so long! Ultimately, Azure accepts his failures and sacrifices himself- a punishment for hurting innocent people and wreaking havoc? A villain acknowledging their misdeeds and making up for them? God, I love Azure so much!

Probably my favorite character!

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Yellowtusk: I love this grandpa so much, for mostly the same reasons as Azure. His crimes aren’t immediately forgotten! Everyone doesn’t immediately forgive him! And he has to head back to the Celestial Realm for actual consequences?! Damn, this is what I’ve wanted from LMK villains for so long! Real redemption arcs, my beloved.

Also, this proves that the writers do know that people who commit crimes should be held accountable and punished for it? Can you give some of that to the others, please?

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Scorpion Queen: Another character I don’t have much to say about. She acknowledges her mistakes, ceases her villainy, and seems to have made genuine friends in Jin and Yin. Given the very little harm she caused, redemption was never going to be outside of her reach- but I’m happy for her anyhow.

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Finishing Points

1: I do not “hate” any of these characters. Though I definitely dislike how some are written, each one is lovable and enjoyable in their own way. I enjoy writing for all of them, and will continue to do so. I just wanted to take a break from fanfiction and talk about my perspective on some villains.

2: What do I mean by “punishment”?

Essentially, a consequence delivered to the character on account of their villainy. Someone tripping and eating dirt isn’t a “punishment”, unless they’re being shoved down by an old victim. Losing a fight isn’t “punishment”, it’s a matter of self-defense. Additionally, the punishment has to be actively performed as a consequence of misdoings- tripping and breaking an arm after doing evil things isn’t a punishment, but having a victim of the villain actively choose to break their arm is.

3: This is not an attack on you or your “fave”. This is not me saying that the show is bad. This is not me saying that I could do better. This is not me saying that you shouldn’t like these characters. This is not me trying to change your mind. This is not me saying you should feel the way I do. These are just my personal thoughts on the villains listed, and some of the “flaws” that I personally have with their portrayals and depictions.

[wandixx]

Greeting comrades,

I’m Wandixx, a history enthusiast, baby writer and budding artist. Grab your tea/coffee/juice or whatever else beverage you favor and let’s go!

I’m part of the DPxDC fandom so my fics are from here. And this list exists so we all can find anything on this blog, welcome!

Here is my AO3:

My finished fics/prompt fills:

“Blood Blossom”:

Desperate times require desperate solutions. When, after escaping GIW, Danny gets trapped by the Justice League, he has only one way to get out of it. Eating a Blood Blossom. (this one includes a sad and happy ending!)

“Contingencies”:

Danny lives with Bats and it all seems to go pretty well. Until they find his contingency plans, including ones against himself, that were just over glorified suicide to-do list. How the hell are they supposed to handle that (that’s a chunky boi, over 20k)

“Ghost of fries and hero of cookies”

Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay Or Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of a local hero? And he looked like he needed a bad day combo anyway. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, art AO3 link

“Reverse summoning”:

It’s always DC characters summoning Danny. How about we do this another way around? Danny was desperate for a mentor and help (and some cold medicine). How- What- Why is Wonder Woman standing in his bedroom? 

“Unknown, the Wandering Hero”:

Unknown was who Justice League called the friendly anonymous hero, who kept helping them with ghosts. Only one with powers working on them. It just turns out, they were much younger than everyone expected. Danny went through a lot lately and the less people knew who he was, the less likely he was to return to the operating table.

M'gannxDanny one-shots: (their ship name is 💚Spearmint💚) (I love them so much, can you tell?)

M'gann and curious case of disappearing cities

M'gann was bored out of her mind and her monitoring shift with Green Arrow just started! Sure, it was important thing to learn and all, but also just a bit more interesting than drying paint. And then entire city just disappeared from the feed, so she stormed out to investiagate. And it went downhill from there

Fight over the Mars

Danny was ambushed by Vlad when he was minding his own buisness. It wouldn't be unusual if he didn't have a portal gun, that send them all over the world and then to the freaking Mars. And then Miss Martian showed up. Yeah, Danny was absolutely normal about that part

Relationship reveal with ghost summoning on the side

Young Justice fumbled a bit a mission involving the cult. Yeah, they managed to summon the wish granting ghost and only Aqualad had a way to touch her. Not the best look... But then Miss Martian said she had an idea! The idea was to summon another ghost... And it worked and he attacked the first ghost! Wait, when exactly did petnames get on the table?!

Actively posted fics:

"You'll never find the answers"

M'gann was having an amazing day. She met with her civilian friends, drank an amazing smoothie, saw a cute dog. For a few hours, she didn't have to think about problems that took more than 20 minutes to solve. For a few hours, she could just be Megan. And then there was a scream of a woman, mother, who thought too loud and faded too fast and M'gann wasn't enough to save her and it made her whole world come crashing down. And then Danny found her, with a soft smile and patient voice. He kneeled beside her to pick up the pieces. And shards cut them both in the process. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 AO3 link Art by Clockworkclown

"GIW made a lot of mistakes and the biggest one was going against Young Justice" (may change hah)

Young Justice wanted a chill afternoon for once, hanging out at amusment park. And then, Danny was attacked by some freaks in white suits. Well, it seems there are villains to make fun of and... did somone mention ✨an evil lab✨? part 1

Stuff that I shared snippets of:

"Danny and Wally are chaos incarnate"

"Dani's dress-up game and Batman's rouge gallery" (also known as "serious chaos one-shot snippet")

"GIW made a lot of mistakes and the biggest one was going against Young Justice" part 1

"Danny, the Young Justice member" random ideas part 1, part 2

The stuff I have somewhere on paper and would love to share if asked.

Make yourself at home, and I hope you’ll like it here!

[xjoonchildx]

Yeah I totally agree as to how writers are leaving. I agree. Why are they leaving you think?

me figuring out how much trouble i wanna get in tonight

lmaoooooooooo

okay, listen. i have thoughts. i have observations. and i’m going to share some of them with you.

in my experience, most writers have been leaving for one of these three reasons:

1. engagement (rather, the lack thereof)

yeah, yeah i know, writers post about this a lot but here’s why: it’s true. readers on this site, for whatever reason, don’t interact with fics as much as they used to. even some fics that get a lot of likes may only have one or two comments, maybe a couple of reblogs with no feedback.

for what it’s worth, i’ve always felt that for the size of my blog (and how flipping long it takes me to post something) i get wonderful reader feedback and engagement. but i see so many writers struggling out in these tumblr streets, posting really great work that gets very little feedback and it’s discouraging for them. i get it.

i will also be transparent and say that as a writer who biases a “less popular member” it kills me when amazing stories about him (and other “less popular members”) just fall flat.

one of the best hobi stories i ever read had 20 notes when i found it by accident. twenty. it had been posted for some time. in my mind, that was a crime—that story was an absolute masterpiece and it had 20 notes (!). i sent it to every person i knew short of my mama because i was offended that people hadn’t recognized its brilliance. sadly, that writer left tumblr and took her masterpiece with her which brings me to my next point:

2. drama and writer-on-writer crime

phew y’all, there’s just so much of it. i don’t know what it is about tumblr that makes some people lose their absolute minds but they sure damned do. i’ve been here for a minute and i have seen it all.

writers mounting anonymous hate campaigns against one another (this happens a lot). writers mounting anonymous hate campaigns against people they pretended were friends (this one happens a lot a lot). writers sending themselves a boatload of hate anons to get sympathy and attention on the dash (this one happens a lot a lot a lot).

popular writers going out of their way to befriend up-and-coming writers only to then turn around and start nasty whisper campaigns about them when the up-and-coming writer’s blogs and stories eclipse their own in popularity.

insecurity is a hell of a drug.

there are some writers who get on here and they’re cool and they stay cool and they enjoy success and guess what? they’re cool about it.

and then there are the writers who get a few thousand followers and a bunch of notes and delude themselves into thinking they’re real-life celebrities. to those writers i would say: pick the fanciest restaurant in your city, call to make a reservation on a friday night and if they don’t have a slot make sure you let them know you’re really big on tumblr. let me know how that works out for you, okay?

it sounds stupid and it is stupid but this happens on this site all the time. what makes me sad is that it drives people away. they take their personalities and stories and contributions to this insane little space we have here with them, which sucks. the author of that amazing hobi fic? deactivated her account over tumblr drama.

so if you have a blog here and you are so wrapped up in jealousy and insecurity that you feel the need to harass someone off the site (including “friends”), log off and seek help.

3. life (adulting, sigh)

this is the boring one, but it still tracks. this community blew up when covid hit and we all had a lot more time to muse about what kim namjoon would look like in his underwear. but so many people had to get back to the grind after a while, and that meant less time for tumblr and for writing in general (wait is this entire one about me oops)

when i started tumblr i wasn’t working full time. then covid hit. so i had a long stretch where i could dedicate a lot of time to writing and posting. and YES i was still slow, so go ahead and throw that tomato lmao but STILL. it really does impact the number of stories going up and some people who joined during the pandemic just don’t have the time to go back to this like they had before.

so yeah, that’s what i’ve personally seen and experienced on this site. the good news is that for every nasty, insecure writer on this site there are dozens of great people telling great stories. i’m going to stick around for them and i hope you do, too 💕

[explodingchantry]

The thing is it really isn't about anders' actions. It isn't. It's genuinely all about framing.

FF7 sees us partake in actual eco-terrorism - they call THEMSELVES eco-terrorists. And we're still seen as the irrevocable hero, and everyone who plays the game understands Cloud & AVALANCHE to be heroes. Complicated, flawed heroes, but heroes anyway. When Shinra collapses the upper city into sector 7, it's as a direct result of AVALANCHE's actions. But you don't see the wider fandom bickering and yelling at each other and hating Cloud or any other AVALANCHE members for the innocent lives lost. It's understood to be Shinra's fault, as they were the ones to destroy an entire sector. But what of potential innocents dying or being injured from the reactor we blow up within the first few minutes of the game? That's definitely our actions causing direct destruction, killing the employees at the facility and the ones we directly fight, the irreparable damage. We don't see people yapping about it because the writing makes it clear that their cause is just and the fandom understands.

What of bg3's Astarion? He was forced to charm these people and bring them to Cazador, yeah, sure - but he could've also chosen to let Cazador kill him or torture him more! The choice here is obvious - that he had to do what he did to survive, and the writing makes it clear as well that he is at no fault for his actions when literally a tortured slave with very limited free will. The game also looks at his rather... Morally corrupt behavior even after escaping Cazador's control via the tadpole with a lens of sympathy and understanding and compassion because our guy is still on the "kill or be killed" grindset and genuinely needs a guiding hand to teach him that he can be free without sacrificing everything - including his humanity - for it. Though the game does allow you to hate him and kill him or turn him into a piece of shit - those are openly considered "bad" endings. There is an obvious right thing to do, here. An obvious side the writing takes.

When Anders, at the time controlled by Justice, almost kills that mage girl in Dissent - it is framed as obviously a bad thing and Anders is immediately horrified. However, some of those around him try to cheer him up, for example Varric who points out the ludonarrative dissonance happening: in which Hawke and their whole party, including Anders, have killed in the hundreds or perhaps thousands and thus Anders ought to relax about the innocent life he almost took. Of course, Varric himself is presented as morally imperfect, but also deeply sympathetic. The player is most likely to side with him on most matters and be influenced by his opinions if only because of his position as your best friend in da2 and general incredible charisma and friendly attitude. This is genuinely good writing of a very sad and nuanced scene. Dissent is pretty good, overall. Unfortunately, it isn't the norm.

The game also goes out of its way to have Varric warn Hawke about Anders being crazy if they romance him, and a humorous/sarcastic Hawke may reply that they like crazy rather than actually defend him. In general, there are very few moments where we can openly support and comfort Anders without any caveats. It goes so far as to having the popular diplomatic options sometimes defending templars rather than supporting Anders, thus placing him, in the narrative, as an 'extremist' the same way Fenris is an extremist in his hatred of mages.

Even if Anders was a terrorist - which he is not - and the chantry boom was an act of terrorism - which it isn't - this wouldn't actually stop another narrative from offering him sympathy. In any other story written by any other writer, Anders would be the obvious victim, and obvious tragic hero. In another story written by any other writer, DAI would have several characters defend him. Even if you wanted to really argue that it makes sense for Varric to hate Anders and complain about him as much as he did (there is some truth to that but I personally remain of the opinion that it did go a bit too far and thus broke character in places), you would expect other characters to speak on him positively. Such as, oh idk, rebel mages or A HAWKE WHO ROMANCED HIM AND SUPPORTED HIM. Or maybe, oh I don't know, a respected and wise elven mage who undertook a difficult revolution in the past. it's these constant remarks about him, the fact that whenever he is mentioned post da2 has been negative, the fact that bioware has parroted the "all mages betray us" stupid fucking 'joke', the fact that the 'crazed' rebel mages attacking you in the hinterlands wear anders' outfit and when you meet anders in da:a he wears tevinter robes and the gift you can give him in da2 is a tevinter amulet thus drawing connections between him and tevinter when all we ever knew of tevinter until extremely recently was "everyone living there is an evil mage slaver". Literally any other writer would have made different choices in their framing that would make people see anders for the tragic hero he is.

Cullen is given 4 entire pages on his history in WoT2. It gives him a dream of becoming a Templar to 'help' and 'protect' people, for which he worked incredibly hard for. It gives him siblings who care for him and support him no matter what, and goes at length to tell you how traumatised and 'unlike himself' Cullen was post dao broken circle. Anders gets 2 pages, which in fairness is more than most. And those two pages are, also in fairness, fairly sympathetic. But we are given nothing of what Anders does post da2, aside from a couple lines in da2 itself. I know that part of it is because there is the possibility of him being killed by Hawke, but potential character death has never stopped bioware from continuing their stories somehow, and with Anders being possessed by Justice giving him an out from certain death (why would Hawke stabbing him with a knife kill him but not a Templar spearing him with their sword in the pre-da2 short story?) there is little excuses. Furthermore, they could pull something similar to what they did with Hawke, with a simple line saying "whether or not Anders lived depends on the person telling the story" etc etc. Honestly I'm not too miffed about the absence of that, I'm not saying I want Anders to have ten pages dedicated to himself in WoT, I just wanted to point out the imbalance between a character obviously loved by Bioware and one obviously disliked.

When I offer the facts of the story to my friends who haven't touched dragon age, and try to remain as objective as possible, and remove the negative framing the game gives - they genuinely struggle to understand how anders would even possibly be hated. They're pretty baffled. And I always have to tell them, it's because of narrative bias. It genuinely, fully, is because of narrative bias.

[fangirleaconmigo]

It's been awhile, Geralt x Jaskier enthusiasts, but here is your newest installment of...

Otherwise known as...

Things that sound like Geraskier fic writers made them up, but that are, in fact, book canon.

This time with commentary on the original Polish wording from @cherrypoison1889! Thanks, Cherry!

Today we're talking about dopplers, otherwise known as shape shifters, also called vexlings in the world of The Witcher. Dopplers are often used to expose the fact that Dandelion is a vulnerability for Geralt, that he loves him.

There are quite a few Geraskier fics that play with this trope. (I will give you a rec or two at the end of the post.)

It makes sense! Plus, the show used a doppler, (more on that later) so the concept is right there!

But does the concept of using a doppler to reveal Geralt's true feelings for Jaskier just exist in the fevered imagination of Geraskier fic writers?? Is this pure fanon? Or canon?

Well, you may have guessed (since I didn't write all this out for my health!)...

It is canon.

In The Witcher book, Sword of Destiny, we meet a doppler called Dudu, who turns into Dandelion (Jaskier) to protect himself from Geralt. He even has a few choice words to say about what he sees in Geralt's thoughts.

Want the details? Of course you do, you've read this far, why not?

When Geralt meets Dudu in this story, the doppler is in the form of a halfling called Dainty Biberveldt. Dudu has bonked Dainty on the head, stolen his shit, taken his form, and is running around Novigrad making business deals with his ill gotten gains.

Dainty wants his shit back from the doppler, but does not want to turn Dudu over to the city guards because Dainty is a decent person who knows that they will murder the doppler in an absolutely horrific way that I will not describe to you. Novigrad is rife with violent bigotry towards non humans, and dopplers in particular have been slaughtered to near extinction. They've been subject to genocide, basically, just because they creep people out. (I could write a thesis just on the way this short story handles themes of racism)

But anywho. That's how we get Geralt's involvement. Geralt is pitching in to get Dudu under control so they don't have to involve bigoted law enforcement. (We stan Dainty ACAB Biberveldt in this house)

This particular scene opens when Geralt has pursued the doppler into a crowded marketplace and has finally cornered him in a tent. Dandelion is elsewhere in the market, being a slut, so he is nowhere to be seen. When Geralt corners Dudu, they are alone, and the doppler panics. He can't get away. So, he decides to be crafty.

First, he turns into Geralt as a way to protect himself. The book describes Dudu changing into Geralt, down to the last detail. Now there are two identical witchers in the tent. Then Dudu speaks.

"Don't come any closer," the second witcher said huskily and smiled. "Don't come any nearer, Geralt. I won't let you lay your hands on me."

So now he looks just like Geralt and has his husky voice. Perhaps he is hoping Geralt will not be able to harm someone who looks like himself. Perhaps he just wants to be equal to him physically.

Either way, Geralt's self esteem is too low for the first one to work. Here is how Geralt responds to an exact copy of himself.

"What a hideous smile I have," thought Geralt, reaching for his sword. "What a hideous face I have. And how hideously I squint? So is that what I look like? Damn."

So, Geralt reaches for his sword immediately, and the only reaction he has for himself is disgust.

Here is where I asked Cherry for her thoughts. Is Geralt as mean to himself in the original Polish? Hideous is pretty strong a word! Here is what she said:

Cherrypoison1889: Geralt is indeed very harsh on himself, when he sees the doppler transform into him. In Polish, he uses the word "paskudne" to describe himself, which is literally hideous. However, he also calls his face "gęba" which is a more vulgar word for face, which in Polish is "Twarz". So he's even harsher on himself, I'd say.

Oh noooo. But just when you think Geralt's low self esteem is going to be a strategic advantage, it betrays him. Why? Because when Dudu says, you can't defeat me, because I am you and I know everything you know...

"I am you," the doppler repeated. "you will not gain an advantage over me. You cannot defeat me, because I am you!"

That is where Geralt starts to lose ground. Why? Because Geralt of Rivia says, no, you can't really copy me! Because you are a good person, and I'm a bad bad bad man. I kill people. I'm a killer. You cannot relate. You cannot even begin to understand the mind of a bad evil killer man like me.

"No," the witcher countered, "you are not. And do you know why? Because you're a poor, little, good-natured doppler. A doppler who, after all, could have killed Biberveldt and buried his body in the undergrowth, by so doing gaining total safety and utter certainty that he would not be unmasked, ever, by anybody....But you didn't kill him...Because you're a poor, little, good-natured doppler, whose close friends call him Dudu...you only know how to copy what is good in us, because you don't understand the bad in us."

Geralt isn't saying this to be strategic. He truly believes it! He knows Dudu has seen his thoughts! Listen to what he says next...

"you aren't capable of defying me, because I am what you are unable of copying (sic). You are absolutely aware of this, Dudu. Because you took over my thoughts for a moment."

So, Geralt is like, you saw what a mess it was in there. You know what a killer I am. You may as well give up now.

I thought 'took over my thoughts' was a little bit of an awkward phrasing, it almost implies thought control, when I feel like the context is thought reading, so I asked Cherry about that. She said:

Cherrypoison1889: As for the "taking thoughts over" bit, it is the same in Polish, I am afraid. the word Sapko uses is "przejąć" which means exactly that, although I assume that the "take over" in English was meant to be understood as "acquiring" although I can't be sure of that. It sure does sound a touch awkward.

But back to the story, Tellico (Dudu) has now been inside Geralt's head. So he knows that's absolute bullshit, even if Geralt doesn't. He has seen what is in Geralt's heart, which prompts him to take another shape.

Tellico straightened up abruptly. His face's features, still those of the Witcher, blurred and spread out, and his white hair curled and began to darken.

"You're right, Geralt," he said indistinctly, because his lips had begun to change shape. "I took over your thoughts. Only briefly, but it was sufficient. Do you know what I'm going to do now?"

Do you? Do you dear reader, know what he's going to do now? I'm going to let you make a guess.

The leather witcher jacket took on a glossy, cornflower blue colour. The doppler smiled, straightened his plum bonnet with its egret's feather, and tightened the strap of the lute slung over his shoulder, the lute which had been a sword a moment ago.

Well, if you've read the books up to this point, we all know who's form he has taken. Cornflower blue, egret's feather, lute....smart doppler.

"I'll tell you what I"m going to do, Witcher," he said, with the rippling laughter characteristic of Dandelion. "I'll go on my way, squeeze my way into the crowd and change quietly into any old body, even a beggar. Because I prefer being a beggar in Novigrad to being a doppler in the wilds."

He then has a powerful monologue about being subject to extermination and genocide. About hunger and fear and freezing to death. He makes a very touching plea to Geralt, asking the Witcher why he is denied the right of survival, granted to everyone else, just because he is a doppler. It is about a page and half long and I HIGHLY recommend people read Sword of Destiny, because this is good shit. He says he will stay in Novigrad.

"As a resident of Novigrad, I'll trade, weave wicker baskets, beg or steal; as one of you I'll do what one of you usually does...."

The Witcher said nothing.

Now, Dudu, in Dandelion's shape, having seen Geralt's thoughts, takes his gamble. And boy does he have guts. He tells Geralt about himself, about his supposed bad bad heart.

"Yes, as I said," Tellico continued calmly. "I'm going. And you, Geralt, will not even try to stop me. Because I, Geralt, knew your thoughts for a moment. Including the ones you don't want to admit to, the ones you even hide from yourself. Because to stop me you'd have to kill me. And the thought of killing me in cold blood fills you with disgust doesn't it?

The Witcher said nothing.

Tellico adjusted the strap of his lute again, turned away and walked towards the exit. He walked confidently, but Geralt saw him hunch his neck and shoulders in expectation of the whistle of a sword blade. He put his sword in his scabbard. The doppler stopped in mid-step and looked around.

"Farewell", Geralt, he said. "Thank you."

"Farewell, Dudu," the Witcher replied. "Good luck."

Dudu wins that one, quite handily.

The doppler turned away and headed towards the crowded bazaar, with Dandelion's sprightly, cheerful, swinging gait. Like Dandelion, he swung his left arm vigorously, and just like Dandelion he grinned at the wenches as he passed them.

As he walks away, Dudu even plays the lute and sings "exactly like Dandelion". Then he shouts back advice for Geralt to pass on to the bard.

"Pass that on to Dandelion, if you remember," he called. "And tell him that Winter is a lousy title. The ballad should be called The Eternal Fire. Farewell, Witcher."

Dudu has seen Geralt's thoughts EVEN THE ONES HE WILL NOT ADMIT TO EVEN THE ONES HE HIDES FROM HIMSELF, and his next choice was to turn into Dandelion.

Now, do I think that the author meant to imply that Geralt is trying to hide his love of Dandelion? No. Slim chance of that. However, it isn't like it's a secret that Geralt hates killing creatures who do no harm or who cannot fight back. So there is still something a bit fuzzy to me about the thoughts that Geralt hides from himself.

It is ripe territory for a Geralt x Dandelion enjoyer to exploit, cultivate, and use for their fics and headcanons.

I asked Cherry for her thoughts about this, about what Geralt's hidden thoughts are having read the original Polish, and she said this:

Cherrypoison1889:

I feel like Dudu used Geralt's self-loathing against him, in a way. As in, if Geralt were to kill Dudu-as-Dandy, he would admit to himself that he is a ruthless, horrible person, who kills "intelligent" beings, despite what he claims, which would also make him a hypocrite. And we know Geralt is a big softie, so he wouldn't do it anyway. I think changing into Dandy was an additional precaution, just an extra measure in case Dudu turned out to be wrong.

I really liked this story, I don't remember reading it back when I read the books (it was ages ago, so I might be wrong anyway). It's really funny, and Geralt is babbie. Darling boy, he just bought himself a new jacket and it got ruined in the frenzy...

Babbie Geralt, that's our darling.

It is sad that Geralt has so much self loathing that it didn't help Dudu to look like him, but it is very sweet that Dandelion is such a point of vulnerability for Geralt, and that Dudu had his number.

Dudu wins this round soundly. The story isn't over. I won't spoil it in case you guys want to read it. But it has a great ending. It is definitely one of my favorites.

I will just never get over how easily he gets the upper hand on Geralt here. Geralt of Rivia, legendary monster hunter, defeated by little Dudu because of his low self worth, his mushy heart, his solidarity with non humans, and his love of a slutty bard.

Now, recommendations.

The Doppler Effect, by @a-kind-of-merry-war This is the first doppler fic I read in the fandom and it has alll the delicious emotional drama, pining, and sexiness that you want from a fic like this. It is excellent.

Images of You, by @pherryt This one is a delightful 'continuation' of what happens in Sword of Destiny. After Dudu learns about Geralt's feelings, he essentially matchmakes Geralt and Dandelion eventually receiving a sexy thank-you of his own.

Them, by @gilligangoodfellow I feel like dopplers and Dudu in particular is so ripe for exploration in fic. So it is wonderful to see a fic like this. It's a short character study of Dudu as gender fluid, with the doppler coming out to Zoltan. Seriously, try it.

Alright, thanks for reading, folks!

For more Geralt and Dandelion "I can't believe it's not fanon..."stay tuned. I am organizing a master post with all of the posts I've done. So keep your eyes out. (in the mean time, most of them seem to show up in the tag, just not all of them)

And lastly, THANK YOU CHERRY! I love having a partner to do these posts with!!