#me: obsessively skimming through this chart

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Hole Is A Band

Jason Cohen, Rolling Stone, 24 August 1995

While the Courtney saga continues, Hole prove that a rock & roll band is the sum of its parts

ERIC ERLANDSON was sitting on a beach in Mexico when the headline caught his eye. Hole's guitarist and co-founder was vacationing with his girlfriend, Drew Barrymore, and thus deliberately out of the loop. After nine months of touring, he was on a much-needed break, his last before the summerlong playground of Lollapalooza. He should have known better. Given that Hole's other founding member is one Courtney Love, Erlandson's blissful, worry-free escape simply wasn't to be. The day-old newspaper beckoned him from across the sand. HOLE SINGER ODS, the headline read. That was all he could make out. His thoughts swirled from annoyance to concern to confidence that everything was surely all right before settling on a slightly jaded "Wouldn't it just figure if Courtney died while I was on vacation?"

A quick look at the story revealed, of course, that Love was just fine. (What was initially reported as an overdose was eventually termed "an adverse reaction to prescription medication.") His worst fears put to rest, Erlandson was skimming the rest of the article when it hit him – a development that was somewhat surprising and most definitely pleasing.

It was the nature of that headline: HOLE SINGER ODS. Not COURTNEY LOVE ODS or GRUNGE WIDOW ODS. Nope. HOLE SINGER.

The circumstances might have been strange and unfortunate, but that headline symbolized some kind of progress. Erlandson had quietly awaited this particular Zeitgeist shift for three years, ever since Hole's music and meaning were firmly subsumed by the irresistible Love star force, with its limitless aura of spectacle, tragedy and provocation.

Conventional wisdom has suggested that a random gathering of cabdrivers, grandmothers and Vanity Fair subscribers would be able to peg Courtney Love in a police lineup, no problem. But no one would be able to pick out mug shots of Erlandson, drummer Patty Schemel or bassist Melissa Auf der Maur, let alone figure out what "Hole" is.

Hole provide a definitive answer in this year's Lollapalooza program book. Paying homage to Blondie, their page is emblazoned with the proclamation, in big rococo letters, that hole is a band. A band that definitely intends – in between Love's inevitable rants, stage dives and column inches – to speak very loudly for itself every night on the Lollapalooza stage.

If Hole's popularity were based only on celebrity, they would have sold a lot more records by now. Instead, with promotion, marketing and life as they knew it shattered by the successive deaths of Love's husband and Hole bassist Kristen Pfaff, Live Through This moved only about 100,000 copies – initially.

Then the freak-show aspect subsided, and after Hole added Auf der Maur they went about the business of playing music. The record topped nearly every '94 critics' poll and – despite never charting higher than No. 52 – was certified platinum in April.

That makes Hole, for the moment at least, the best-selling act on the Lollapalooza main stage, and one gets the feeling Hole would be the chief attraction regardless of sales figures – as was expected, a portion of the Lolla crowd is departing before headliners Sonic Youth take the stage.

Certainly, Hole's million-or-so fan base still includes legions of the merely curious as well as loopily obsessive Love worshipers and kids who see the band as only a legacy. The rest of Hole's audience might feel those things, too, but it also relates intensely to the music.

"The most frustrating thing for me is that people view most female artists as this single person," Erlandson says. "The thing is, I know for a fact that we're more of a band, and we've always been more of a band. I don't want to be in a 'backing band,' and Courtney doesn't want that, either. That's not the way we work."

SO ALLOW ME to introduce you to the four members of the band Hole. Except that I can't, because none of them have materialized in the appointed place (an obscure Manhattan hotel) at the appointed time (3 p.m.). When they do turn up, one of them is missing. We were supposed to conduct a joint interview, something that can't be done without Love, who spends her day shopping and napping.

We regroup in the evening, as the band heads over to Electric Lady Studios to do the syndicated radio show Modern Rock Live. Love walks through the hotel lobby, spraying herself with perfume, and is immediately confronted by two fans. She blows them off cold but not because she's in a bad mood or anything (although she is).

At Electric Lady, Love takes off her shoes, asks Auf der Maur to make room on the couch and Schemel to give her a light, then splays out, feet up, with a book (C. David Heymann's Elizabeth Taylor biography) and a pile of magazines. The TV is on, and Love switches channels to Larry King, whose guest this evening is Barbra Streisand, resplendent in the televised wonders of a Vaseline lens and soft-soft light. "Is that the lighting they're going to give me when I do my Barbara Walters interview?" Love asks. As air time approaches, she tells the band she's cranky and tired and doesn't want to answer all the on-air calls, even if they're directed at her.

After the show we're supposed to take another crack at that four-on-one interview, but Love doesn't feel like it. I'm not too concerned, but Erlandson says he really wants me to observe the full band dynamic. I can't help wondering what he's after. Were they planning a pseudo-orchestrated demonstration of band democracy? Was I going to glimpse a legendary Erlandson-Love blowup? Or perhaps it was just a subtle way for the other three members to say, "Look what we have to put up with!"

I get a big dose of the latter feeling the next day at the photo shoot. Love sleeps the whole way to Coney Island, in New York, in the front seat of the van. Her cosmetician tells me, perhaps indiscreetly, that she prefers it that way come make-up time because a conscious Love is a manic and fidgety Love.

As the day wears on she comes alive again, though during one break she manages a fully clothed half-minute doze right on the beach. Between takes she entertains herself by reading the Globe out loud, saying that tabloid stories are almost always exaggerations of something with a grain of truth in it. It's obviously a subject she knows about. Later she apologizes for putting me off. "I don't want you to think I'm a diva," Love says.

Naturally, Love then proceeds to throw a Kathleen Battle-like fit that's impressive in its steadfastness and serenity. It's nearly 10 p.m., and the band is supposed to have a quick dinner before finishing the shoot. But Love says she's returning to her hotel room for a nap first. There's no tantrum, no argument, no drama, just a sense of "this is the way it's going to be," even though everyone tries to dissuade her.

The overall vibe is how one might imagine things are between Prince and his band mates, albeit with less subservience: a group of distinct, individually talented people responding to its erratic, visionary fireball leader with a slightly patronizing blend of wariness and admiration. "Sure, Prince, whatever you say."

This is not a theory that the members of Hole will confirm for me. All of them are outspoken, bright and funny under ordinary circumstances but a lot more guarded when the subject is Love. "I'm used to it by now," Schemel says. "I accept Courtney exactly, everything she does."

Generally speaking, they brush off Love's unabashed Loveness as part and parcel of the ordinary lead-singer trip. But Love's not your average lead singer. It's kind of like four gorillas saying, "Hey, we're just an ordinary quartet of gorillas. Never mind that one of us weighs 800 pounds."

IF YOU WERE ever to visit Eric Erlandson's hotel room, there would be a 50-50 chance your knock would be answered by a certain well-known actress. You might find this prospect amusing. You might even suspect that the actress would be aware of this and answer the door on purpose.

This is not the case. The reason Drew Barrymore lets me in is because Erlandson is in the bathroom. "Hi, I'm Drew," she says politely, if unnecessarily. The O.J. trial is on the television, and the sweeter-than-you'd-ever-suspect couple tell me they were unnerved to discover attorney Barry Scheck on their flight from Los Angeles. They figured that, karmically speaking, the odds of a crash go up with him on board, and he's not someone you want to share recirculated oxygen with in any case.

Barrymore retreats to the bedroom while Erlandson and I talk. Erlandson is tall and affable with dyed-blond hair that hangs in his eyes and a loose, almost nasal Los Angeles-native drawl. One of seven children in a close-knit Catholic family, he actually hails from San Pedro, Calif., the recently reanointed punk-rock Mecca a half-hour south of L.A.

Erlandson's boyhood paper route included the home of Black Flag guitarist Greg Ginn, but Erlandson missed out on his hometown scene at the time, preoccupied as he was with good old '70s rock.

Now 32, a fact he gives away freely but sheepishly, Erlandson was a late bloomer. He attended college at Loyola Marymount, where his father was a dean, and also held down an accounting job at Capitol Records. Then he caught the punk-rock bug. "I started late," Erlandson says. "I didn't really experiment with anything bad for you until I was 27."

What exactly happened when you were 27? Fall in with some kind of "bad girl," didja?

Erlandson laughs. "Yeah, you could say that," he says.

You could, and Love frequently does, announcing from the stage, "Eric was my boyfriend once. He won't admit it 'cause I'm too ugly." She also refers to him as Eric Barrymore. He usually responds to this by giving her the finger, if he responds at all.

Erlandson is a soft-spoken sort, the steely guitarist who's content simply to make his music and hit the town with his (very young, movie-star) girlfriend. Within the band he's known as the Archivist, the guy who keeps track of all the live tapes and jam sessions. On a musical level he's the guy who really gives the songs their crackle. He played most of the guitars on Live Through This, while Love concentrated on lyrics and vocals.

Like Love, Erlandson is a Buddhist, though after she introduced him to the religion he became the more devout practitioner. All in all, unlikely rock-star material, but then, what fame Erlandson has is not entirely his own.

"Yeah, it's ironic," he says. "The two people in my life are like these people that are everywhere. It's pretty sick for me to go to a newsstand." (At the time, Barrymore's Rolling Stone cover was out, as was Love's Vanity Fair.)

Erlandson met Love in 1989 when he answered a free classified ad (no, not the personals – the MUSICIANS WANTED) she'd placed. "She called me up and talked my ear off, and I was like 'Who the hell was that?'" Erlandson recalls. "We met at this coffee shop, and I saw her and I thought, 'Oh, God, oh, no, what am I getting myself into?' She grabbed me and started talking, and she's like 'I know you're the right one!' And I hadn't even opened my mouth yet."

There were many false starts, but what basically kept them together was a love of god-awful clattering. "We were one big, screaming mess," Erlandson says. "I was just like 'OK, this is cool, this is noise.' I was always into the No Wave thing, but it never caught on in L.A. I was like 'Wow, I finally found someone who's into doing this stuff.'"

A pair of singles followed, one of which was on Sub Pop, and then came 1991's Pretty on the Inside, co-produced (with Don Fleming) and heavily influenced by Sonic Youth's Kim Gordon.

What's often forgotten is that Pretty on the Inside was pretty well-received and not a half-bad record. Love's vividly scabrous lyrical tone – part self-immolation, part outwardly directed paroxysm – was well established, and beneath the cruddy goth-punk caterwauling there were hints of New Wave sense and songcraft sensibility.

The band on that record – Love, Erlandson, drummer Caroline Rue and bassist Jill Emery – didn't last very long, but even through the period in which Love was most famous for whom she loved, Hole got it back together. In 1992, Erlandson and Love signed with DGC/Geffen and eventually roped in Patty Schemel.

The first thing I learn about Schemel is that she gets cranky when she hasn't eaten in a while, which is why we head for an Italian restaurant. As she digs into some gnocchi, we chat about supermodels; she's particularly fond of Kristen McMenamy. When Schemel is done eating, New York's new anti-smoking law forces her to step outside.

Auf der Maur is along as well, as is Schemel's girlfriend, Stacey, who in a touching testament to the faith and folly of mixing business with romance also works as Love's assistant. Merely for her platinum hair, Stacey is always mistaken for either Barrymore or Love by people on the street. Schemel recently got her own apartment in Seattle, but during the past year, when the band wasn't on tour, she was living with Stacey at Love's house. The band was almost always on the road, though. And it's a big house.

Schemel's parents were New Yorkers who still have the accents to prove it, but they moved to Marysville, Wash. (about an hour north of Seattle), before she was born. Dad still works for Pacific Bell; Mom was at GTE ("We're a communications family," Schemel says). Schemel took up the drums when she was 11 "because it was something girls didn't do," she says, and to this day her mother still complains that Schemel doesn't project enough good cheer when she plays.

"We played this show, and my mom is up in the VIP balcony hanging over the edge, waving, like 'Smile!'" Schemel says with a laugh. "Flashback, I'm 11 again, playing the school recital. After Unplugged, she called and said, 'Not much smiling, but you sounded great.'"

Otherwise, Schemel says, her parents were always supportive of both her music and her sexuality. "My dad was always instilling that if you can do your art, your passion, and also get paid to do it, that it's a great accomplishment." The rest of Marysville wasn't so accommodating on either front.

"There were all these cowboys, and then there were rockers – no punk rockers," Schemel recalls. "Punk rock was a good place to go where there were other people who felt like me."

Seattle beckoned. The only genuine Rock City scenester in Hole, Schemel ran with such nascent luminaries as Sub Pop honcho Bruce Pavitt, checking out the pre-grunge scene and forming a band called Sybil with her younger brother. They didn't get very far, but Schemel established her reputation as one of the city's best drummers. She would have to be, what with that tattoo of John Bonham's rune (the triple circle) on her arm.

Schemel's only mistake was missing out entirely on the local explosion. When Erlandson and Love tracked her down in 1992, she was living in San Francisco, where she'd moved two years before, "thinking that was the next big city," Schemel says. She tried out for Hole on her 25th birthday and spent the rest of the year learning the old songs and feeling out new ones with Erlandson.

Given the varied psychosexual meanings implicit in Hole's existence, Schemel adds an extra dimension to the mix. Hole have something for everybody, regardless of gender, preference, fetish or taste. Schemel's not on a pedestal about it, but she says it feels good to be a role model in a band that connects so profoundly with its audience.

"It's important," she says. "I'm not out there with that fucking pink flag or anything, but it's good for other people who live somewhere else in some small town who feel freaky about being gay to know that there's other people who are and that it's OK."

MELISSA AUF DER Maur is sitting at the bar of the alterna-hip New York watering hole Max Fish. Melissa Auf der Maur is also on the wall of the Lower East Side hangout. See, a year ago, Melissa Auf der Maur – OK, so a simple she would probably suffice at this point, but what fun would that be? – was just a third-year photography student playing in a Canadian indie-rock band, and tonight one of her many self-portraits is part of an exhibit here.

Auf der Maur was quite happy back in Montreal, too, which is why when Smashing Pumpkin Billy Corgan told her she should try out for Hole, she thought he was out of his mind. This is probably what sealed her fate, at least from Love's point of view.

"Billy was going on about this hot babe who could really play, and I was like 'Yeah, right, you're giving her the girl leeway,' because Billy is sort of a pig," Love says. "But I thought I would try her out, and I pursued her a little bit, and what I thought was hot was that she said no. I thought that was really cool."

"That's a thing to like, I guess," Auf der Maur deadpans. "That's attractive. Yeah, I was just, like, in my space, in my life, with my band. I had been at the New Music Seminar handing out my demo tapes and putting my 7-inch together. I was like 'No way, I've got my life – what, you think I wanna leave my life?'"

Soon enough, however, she realized it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so she went to Seattle to audition. Two weeks later, she was playing in front of 80,000 people at the 1994 Reading Festival. "I felt nothing," she says. "I was like 'This is just a reflection of what I'm about to do with my life.'"

Only 23 years old, Auf der Maur had already led something of a storybook life before joining Hole. Her mother was never married to her father ("She barely knew the guy") and was living with Frank Zappa (platonically) during the pregnancy. Mother and daughter spent their first two years together in Africa and London, living with a zoologist friend. Dad, meanwhile, is a high-profile Montreal politician and journalist.

"For my entire life I was Nick Auf der Maur's daughter, and all of a sudden he's Melissa Auf der Maur's father," she says. "He gets such a kick out of it, that little kids are reading his name."

If Love is, for better or worse, the aggressive female role model of the band, then Auf der Maur would be the favorite of Hole's Y-chromosome following. Apparently she attracts crushes the way Love attracts headlines. "She's amazing," Schemel marvels. "So many boys, it's like, God." It's not too difficult to figure out why: While Auf der Maur is self-possessed enough to compare herself (convincingly) to Botticelli's Birth of Venus in her self-portraits, she's so graceful and open that there's nothing off-putting about her.

"Melissa's like a well-bred, quiet, pretty version of me at her age," Love says, though it's unclear what exactly would be left of Love with those caveats. "She's a bit of a Heather. Everyone else is a geek. Patty was like a chosen geek, and me and Eric were born geeks, but Melissa's well mannered and ethereal and very spiritual, but she only knows about astrology."

That actually helped Auf der Maur before the audition. "Before I met them, Eric called me up, and he's like 'I have three questions to ask you,'" Auf der Maur says. "One: 'Are you a drug addict?' No, far from it. Two: 'Do you play with a pick?' Yes. And three: 'What sign are you?' Pisces. And Pisces being the most emotionally full sign, it was perfect. I'm definitely drawn to emotionally full situations, so it made sense to me. I've always been told that I'm too sensitive or too aware of other people's things, so I was like 'Well, finally I'm going to be able to use that to my advantage.'"

"IF YOU'RE GONNA sit here and call that a valentine, I'm gonna kick your ass!"

At long last I've been granted my audience with Love, and I've made the innocent mistake of uttering the words Vanity Fair. Apparently she's a bit sensitive to charges that her recent VF cover story was, shall we say, clean – so clean that Love's breasts were likened to "great cakes of soap." I'm told that if I want to see a real valentine, I should reread this magazine's Drew Barrymore piece. "That girl will never need toilet paper again in her fucking life," Love gripes.

It's safe to assume that Love and Erlandson and Barrymore don't spend a lot of Saturday nights together renting movies and popping popcorn. What's irritating, though, is the way Love's self-made feminist iconoclasm leaves room for an old-fashioned cattiness that borders on misogyny, usually directed at people who aren't dissimilar to her – such as Barrymore or her old friend Kat Bjelland from Babes in Toyland or a laundry list of female rock critics who've faced the same sexist groupie stigma Love has.

But everything that Love does is half acting out, half conscious manipulation and half practical joke. (Yeah, that's three halves, but who says Love adds up?) She's astoundingly intelligent, maddeningly contradictory and a total force of nature – it's exhausting just being in a room with her.

"I fake it so real I am beyond fake," goes the oft-quoted lyric from 'Doll Parts', and it's clear the line was meant to resonate at every possible level – as truth, as irony and as a mockery of both herself and her audience. With Love it's a question of how much she can get away with and how much she decides to give away.

Take Jeff Buckley, for instance. Right now you're probably thinking to yourself, "How did Jeff Buckley get into the middle of this Hole story?" Relax – there's an answer to every question, and you can't very well have a Hole story without the presence of at least one cute and slightly famous rocker boy.

Buckley has been on Love's mind a bunch the last couple of days. Supposedly, Auf der Maur met him in Canada and has what Love calls "a minicrush on him. I'm just sort of putting her in her place." So Buckley and Love have been trading phone calls and answering machine messages, trying to get together – friendlylike, don't get any ideas. And most of these phone calls have been made in front of me, the unobtrusive, all-seeing journalist. And Love... well, she's not the type of person who does things in front of the media by accident.

Now we're in the middle of our interview, and time is at a premium because Love intends to catch the Broadway production of Hamlet with her prospective pal. So she calls him two or three more times in front of me to nail down the plans. And then he comes to her hotel room while I'm still there. And then they go to Hamlet, and brilliantly, Love stops to ask directions from – get this – a professional photographer. By intermission – go figure! – the paparazzi are already about.

In the next couple of weeks, the nonexistent couple gets items in USA Today, the New York Post and People. Buckley ends up being thoroughly freaked out by the experience – so much so that he calls me from England to try to clear his name. Buckley is a sensitive sort and more than a little naive. "Who the fuck am I?" he wanted to know. "I'm not like a Dando. I went out for one night, and I'm thrust into this weird, rock-star charade heavy thing." He feels used.

"Y'know," Love had said to me before Buckley came to pick her up that night, "sometimes I would love to just put out my music and have people leave me alone so I could go to see Hamlet with Jeff Buckley, and you might not hear a word about it."

Ordinarily, there's only one response to such an utterance. That response is "Yeah, right." But Love is more complicated than that. She doesn't have to distinguish between the crazy things that happen to her and the crazy things she makes happen. She's perfectly capable of encouraging photographers herself and then feeling put upon when they start taking pictures. Both emotions are genuine to her. Even this article raised her contradictory hackles – she was very concerned that Rolling Stone give the band its due instead of focusing on her, but at the same time, after brushing me off for two days, she fretted that I hadn't spent enough time with her.

Which is why, just like Erlandson, concern was not the only thing running through my head when I heard about Love's airplane OD incident. What actually came to mind was "more publicity." Many people, including some who have worked with the band, say half-jokingly that they no longer pay attention to Love's headlines because they seem so well planned, almost military in their precision.

Plus, during our interview the week before, Love had told me, rather matter-of-factly and contrary to the party line, that "I don't do drugs very often, but I do."

Nevertheless, three days after she left the hospital, Love leaves me a message at home, so I call her up to find out what happened. In a nutshell: "I was on an airplane, and this doctor gave me some pills before I left because I always take pills to fly, to sleep, and then we had a layover, and I just accidentally took too many. I woke up and there were tubes in my nose and things in my mouth, and they thought I was suicidal, and I just fucking went ballistic. They wish."

Maybe it's because of the airplane incident, or maybe it's just the usual, but during this conversation, Love is a bit less brazen about the subject of drugs. "I'm not putting it down, I don't think God necessarily put us here to be sober all the time, but I also don't think he put us here to be junkies," she says.

"Besides, nobody would deal to me. Like, if I wanted to do drugs, I couldn't get them, because I'm me, and it's too much of a risk [for the dealer]. It's not that I want to be dealt to, but I think that four months ago this one evening I did, so, y'know...I can be a little naive about saying, like, what my drug usage is because you're supposed to say that you never do anything, blah blah blah."

"MELISSA AND I were talking – just hypothetically, not real life – and we decided there's not really anybody on Lollapalooza that I wanna fuck," Love says. That will probably come as a relief – just hypothetically, not real life – to Pavement's Stephen Malkmus. But Love is actually making a larger point here. For all its underground hipitude, the show is somewhat lacking in rock & roll star power – star power in this case being that combustible combination of mass popularity and massive sex appeal. (No, Beck does not qualify.)

"Rock is really about dick and testosterone," Love says. "I go see a band, I wanna fuck the guy – that's the way it is; it's always been that way. I love competing with that, but I didn't come in here to, like, change that. So I just feel like [Lollapalooza] is dickless, straight out."

Initially, Hole did not want to do Lollapalooza, but the back-to-basics lineup drew them in. Still, as the tour began, Love had a big problem with this year's slate of bands. "It's all Sonic Youth approved," says Love. "The Sonic Youth butt-kiss nation. Even us – we're Sonic Youth butt-kiss nation because they produced our first record. Still, I would rather be here with Sonic Youth. I don't want to be out there in the world with Billy and Trent and Eddie."

With Lollapalooza, Hole have plenty to prove, the latest trial by fire in a year that's been full of them. When they play and the music is allowed its own space, everything else falls by the wayside. Some of the moshing, screaming fans might respond most strongly to Love's antics, but many others are rapt, coiled and reverent, feeding off the music's introversion and aggression simultaneously. The audience really can look at them and go, "Oh, yeah, Hole is a band."

"We've stayed together because we're good," Love says, "and when we play together, we know we're good."

"As far as Courtney's celebrity compared to our band, there's this gap," Schemel says. "But within this year of playing out and being a band, that gap's been getting shorter. Every time we play a show, people are blown away by the band."

© Jason Cohen, 1995

[silvery-bluish]

🌾 and 🥀 for Arsinoe?

🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them

Listen. Listen I arguably already did that over here from Daniel's eyes but the main relevant snippet that was also the first part of that I wrote--

Arsinoe fishes something small out of one of their pockets, grimacing, rubber band around their wrist then and their thumbs skimming cheekbones and the crescent scar under their left eye as they pull the top layer of their hair back, messy curls temporarily tamed under their grasp as they grumble their way through tying it back. They lower their hands, shake their head slightly like that might dislodge the tie, and grin when it doesn’t, a self-satisfied baring of teeth. They settle back into a fighting stance. “C’mon Flyboy,” they say, “One more time. Now that I can see you.”

Except the grin settles too, into something softer with fewer teeth, stance a little looser, more playful. He can see their eyes better like this, too, green lighting up where the sun hits their face. 

🥀 How would your OC decorate a notebook or journal? What kind of things are written in there? Could you give an example of a nice entry?

They have Extremely Neat And Well Organized Planning notebooks pfff just like. so many of them. potentially obsessively over-planned. a lot of flow charts. Mostly of Villain Planning and potential contingencies but also social situations they're worried about. They don't so much decorate them as they write extremely tiny and fill the whole dang thing up with words. And I do have an example but I'm gonna throw it under a read more.

Note that this is My mediocre handwriting and poor spatial planning, it'd be way neater and better laid out and probably in some sort of shorthand/encoding but this still makes me laugh.

[lobster-tales]

Beat the Daylight

Sequel to Face the Noise, an Arcane Rock Band AU

Rating: M

Chapter 3: The Lunch

Summary: Jinx gets distracted at work || Mel surprises Caitlyn

This work is available here on AO3. Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Jinx had her own private studio.

Silco reserved it for her, a haven where she could work at her own pace. Of course, she redecorated, covering the walls in graffiti, upgrading her equipment with various modifiers. Papers lay in an organized tornado around the room, covered in half-written lyrics and neon doodles. She had toys, too, mostly figures from different anime, a few stuffed animals. They helped with the writing process, so she could use them to act out different scenes, plan music videos. But only one was untouched. Her favorite, the plush shark sitting beside her computer.

The shark was a gift from Silco: he used to stop by the studio frequently to check in on her, listen to her songs and praise her talent. But work stole his time now. The stuffed shark was a solution, with cameras installed in the glassy eyes: one even glowed amber like his own. Jinx had lovingly called him Fishbones, and always greeted him when she entered. She didn’t mind the lack of privacy: she had no secrets to keep. In fact, it was reassuring, knowing Silco could see and hear her.

“What’s on the agenda today, boss?” she said, knowing she wouldn’t receive an answer. Jinx threw down her duffle bag, the spray paint cans clinking as she did so. She yanked open a desk drawer, filled to the brim with lollipops, and popped one in her mouth as she considered her equipment.

At first, writing and mixing came naturally, like breathing. The producers would send her barebone songs, with basic tracks and lyrics, and Jinx would modify them, tweak the words, add in new beats and sound effects until they were her own. She never got along with her audio engineers, with a few ending up in the hospital, so Silco made an exception for her. He allowed her to work alone, even without Sevika to hover over her.

The isolation used to be motivating. But recently, burnout had eaten away at her. Jinx skimmed her emails, noting the gradual escalation of urgency from her producers. Her quota was fast approaching, and she wasn’t even close to meeting it.

Jinx closed her laptop, muttering to Fishbones, “Well, maybe if you sent me a song that didn’t suck, I could get some fucking work done.”

Instead of focusing on a new single, she pulled up a series of original tracks. Jinx preferred making beats over anything else, even over singing. Her new obsession was taking Ekko’s singles and remixing them, over and over again. Improving them.

Ekko was her only real competition as far as the charts were concerned. Media and fan accounts alike pitted the two against each other, ironically unaware of their shared history. Maybe it should have bothered Jinx, but it didn’t. It felt like a game, like the type they used to play. Before things changed. Before she changed.

Her attention jerked back to the task at hand. She was stuck on this one measure, the same rhythm over and over again. Something about it bothered her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She tried accelerating it, then slowing, changing the notes. But it never felt quite right.

Her phone vibrated: a welcome distraction. It was a text from Margot. On breezing through their prior messages, Jinx remembered drunk texting her last night. Well, maybe not ‘drunk’ texted: more like ‘tipsy-and-bored’ texted.

2:36 AM

Jinx: How’s the tour going?

Now

Margot: It’s ok. Almost at Demacia. Finn is annoyed lol

Jinx couldn’t help but grin. Finn was one of Shimmer’s investors, and would have been the top artist if it wasn’t for her. He resented playing second, especially to someone with only two years of fame under her belt. He was never nice to Jinx, and she returned the favor.

Jinx: What now??

Margot: Last time he played here, it was sold out. Rn, tickets at 60% venue capacity.

Jinx snorted a laugh. Her last and only tour had been a chaotic mess, mostly her own fault. She started late nearly every time, changed the song order on her sound and stage management team. Yet, every show was sold out. Sounded like Finn had no such luck.

Jinx: LOL. Did he change his routine at all?

Margot: Ugh, no. I told him to but you know how stubborn he is.

She giggled to herself, but cut it short. Fishbones loomed in her mind, his embroidered teeth bared. His voice was an exaggerated mimic of Silco’s. She’s not your friend, Jinx. She’s being nice because she has to be.

“I know!” Jinx growled. “I know,” she repeated, moreso to convince herself.

Jinx used to spend a lot of time with Margot and Finn. They were the youngest of Shimmer’s board, so when Jinx wanted to go out, get shitfaced and dance til dawn, Silco assigned those two to go with her. But despite their youth, they were both still nearly a decade older than Jinx. Finn mostly spent his time sulking in the corner booths, tattooed arms draped over scantily clad fans. Though he never bitched about it in front of Silco, he bitched everywhere else. But not Margot. She knew to keep her mouth shut.

In fact, Margot never acted like she was being held hostage. She was the only one, other than Silco, who treated Jinx with respect, who actually listened and responded to her. That’s why it was so easy to forget that she was just a coworker, Shimmer Entertainment’s publicist, and that she was just doing her job.

Jinx’s phone buzzed again.

Margot: He’s also pissed about the Hex Records thing.

Jinx: ??????????

Margot: You haven’t heard? Medarda’s starting a Piltie label.

The text was followed by a link to a post. Jinx usually avoided social media. Between the haters and blindly adoring fans, there was nothing for her there. But when she opened the app today, the feed was flooded with chatter about the new label. On reading further, it looked like Medarda had new talent lined up, though she was being characteristically mysterious about their names.

If Finn was pissed about this, then Silco was probably furious. He hated competition. Over the last few years, a few labels had tried to make their mark on the metroplex. Most were spineless and easily intimidated, but the brave ones always ended up bankrupt, or burnt to the ground.

The only reason Ekko had escaped was because Medarda protected him. She was the only one who could go toe to toe with Silco, and they had battled it out for years politically. But now with two companies and her senate responsibilities, she’d be spread thinner. Jinx wondered how long it would take for the cracks to form, how long Ekko could stay safe, not to mention these ‘other artists’.

Jinx scanned the posts, wondering if there were any leads to the new talent. She clicked on one video that said, Hex Records's New Drummer?? When Jayce took his seat at the drumset, she hurled her phone at the wall, shattering it.

She didn’t care, she shouldn’t care. But despite it all, the thought of being replaced fucking hurt. Especially being replaced by someone so inexperienced.

The desk drawer creaked as she heaved it open. Four more brand new, unopened phones clattered against the wood. Silco was always prepared. She transferred her information within a matter of minutes, and checked the app again. Ignoring the Hex Records hype, she breezed through her private messages. Mostly fans, haters, a few artists looking for collaboration.

Then a message from Lux.

Jinx did a double take, unsure if it was really her. She clicked on her name, and was met with a clean aesthetic and inspirational quotes. Lux stood out in every picture, effortlessly radiant. In one of them, she stood beside a guy their age. His hair was nearly the same shade of blond, bangs swept across his face, strong eyebrows, strong jaw. He reminded Jinx of those boy band leads. Even just looking at his stupid, perfect face pissed her off, so Jinx went back to read Lux’s message.

Lux: Hi! Not sure if you remember me, but we met at the charity gala last night? I know you’re probably really busy, but do you want to hang out sometime? :)

Lux had messaged her the morning after they met. No hesitation, no guilt. Not that there was anything to feel guilty for: their almost kiss was just that, almost. But Jinx wasn’t used to people reaching out, especially with what seemed to be sincere intentions.

Fishbones flickered in the corner of her vision, the deep voice echoing unnaturally, She could be yours, you know. The boy is nothing. I can make him disappear, Jinx, all you have to do is ask.

Jinx never kept secrets from Silco. He told her before that he would give her anything she wanted. But this time, an instinct warned her. With his resources, who knows what kind of havoc he would wreak. And even if it all went well, Lux would always feel like a toy, like her shiny new obsession. Her light would be forever stained by their darkness. It felt wrong.

So she closed the app without responding. Jinx sat in her silence for a moment, blocking out the shark’s whispers. She pulled up her texts again.

Jinx: When are you coming home?

Margot: Soon, kid. Soon.

                                                       ☆ ☆ ☆                                                         

The rest of the product launch was a blur of excitement. Vi and the Kiramman family were able to bypass the crowd and meet their friends backstage. In typical older sibling fashion, Vi swept Ekko into a crushing embrace, while Jayce did the same to Caitlyn. During the congratulations, Caitlyn kept an eye on Viktor. He barely spoke, but his earlier demeanor seemed to have lightened. Maybe the performance helped.

They were only permitted a few minutes before Mel entered, suggesting her investments go network at the afterparty. Vi and Caitlyn decided not to attend, since Vi had an opening shift and Caitlyn had promised to call Sky. On the way out, a server ran up to Caitlyn and passed her a note.

Caitlyn,

Meet me for lunch on Monday

M. M.

The message was cryptic, unnecessarily so considering Mel could have asked her in person moments ago. Then again, Mel was known for her dramatics, so Caitlyn begrudgingly accepted.

Caitlyn spent the rest of the weekend trying to get her investigation together. If the local government was corrupted, then she would have to bring a solid case to the federal one. She scoured for articles, pictures, anything she could use as evidence. But Silco’s publicists and lawyers had carefully wiped everything from the internet, and though she still had access to the police files, there was nothing substantial there, either.

She was feeling discouraged by the time Monday’s lunch came. Mel listed no address or time, so Caitlyn arrived at her office at 11:45 AM.

Despite being a senator, Mel chose to forgo a public office, instead hosting her dealings at her private one. The building was like a museum, layered with tasteful art. Caitlyn examined the pieces as she waited, fending off the receptionist's offer of various treats and drinks. At least Mel could never be faulted for being inhospitable.

Mel finished her last meeting and welcomed Caitlyn, in no rush to leave. The room was like the rest of the property, covered in paintings and sculptures. Caitlyn examined a decorative folding screen with a dragon design. She let out a short chuckle when she read the Chinese characters that lined the fabric: pretty, but nonsensical. Someone had ripped Mel off, though Caitlyn would never tell her for fear of embarrassing her.

Mel asked her if she wanted anything to drink, water or wine, and Caitlyn, not eager to imbibe on a Monday at noon, accepted the former. Caitlyn sipped, watching as Mel fussed around her desk, reorganizing the already neat stacks. She seemed uncharacteristically nervous, though Caitlyn had no idea why. Caitlyn asked, “Did you want to go somewhere or?”

“Yes, we will,” Mel said too quickly. “But first, I’m expecting someone to join us. I do hope that’s alright.”

Fear surged through Caitlyn: was this another of her mother’s schemes? A trap, ensnaring her in an “I told you so” lecture?

Her face must have been transparent, because Mel reassured her, “Not Senator Kiramman.”

The receptionist popped in. “He’s here, Senator.”

“Thank you, Elora.” Mel nodded towards the screen. “Caitlyn, can you do me a favor and stand behind that divider? I want your presence to be a pleasant surprise.”

Immediately, Caitlyn was on edge, though she felt she had no reason to be. Knowing Mel, this was probably some overcomplicated scheme to surprise Jayce. So Caitlyn obeyed. When she was in position, the door opened, and she heard the thump of several pairs of footsteps.

“Come in,” said Mel warmly, though she received no response. “Welcome, all. Would you or any of your friends like a beverage? Some wine, scotch?”

A deep voice answered, one that Caitlyn recognized from press appearances. Her blood ran cold as Silco said, “Scotch for me. They’ll have nothing.”

Panic overcame Caitlyn, but Mel spoke coolly, with the same practiced politeness she used to address everyone. “Oh come now, I would hate for any of you to be uncomfortable. Especially when you already feel so… tense.”

Caitlyn fought through the fear: how many pairs of footsteps? At least six or seven–far too many for a casual lunch meeting.

As if coming to the same conclusion, Silco said, “They were just leaving.”

“If you insist,” Mel said, cheerful.

The footsteps shuffled again. Silco murmured, “She stays.” One of them must have remained.

“Very well.” Mel called, “You can come out now, Caitlyn.”

Embarrassment overtook her fear, rooting her to the spot. Anger too, at being used. Mel had put her in a dangerously vulnerable position, without her consent. She wanted to tell her off and storm out. But Caitlyn fought through the emotion, sought understanding. Mel had invited her to protect her. She trusted Caitlyn, knew she wouldn’t blow up like Vi or Ekko, or do something impulsive like Jayce. And despite the deception, Caitlyn couldn’t abandon her. She couldn’t let Mel face him alone. So she emerged.

Silco’s bodyguard, a large woman, scowled at her, teeth grit so that she could see the slight gap in the center. Caitlyn recognized her: while researching for Powder’s case, this woman had appeared in multiple photos. Her presence elicited a strong reaction from Vi, who explained that the woman used to be close with Vander, before betraying him years ago and joining Silco. Fuck, what was her name?

If Silco was startled by Caitlyn, he didn’t show it, twisting his mouth into a grin instead. “It seems the tension is mutual.”

Mel poured the scotch for him: Caitlyn had never seen her make anyone a drink, especially not in a business meeting. If that’s what this was. “I’m a senator, Silco,” said Mel. She didn’t look at Caitlyn, didn’t acknowledge her quiet frustration. “I make enemies every day. That’s why it’s so important to keep an ally in my back pocket.” She held out the drink, waiting for him to come grab it.

Silco swirled the glass as he took the seat across from Mel’s desk, sprawling in the chair as if he owned it and everything else in the room. “So. Why did you invite me here?”

“Because you were coming anyway,” she said. “To intimidate me. And I thought the least I could do was be hospitable.” She let the words sink in: her sparkling water hissed as she poured it.

So Vi was right to be worried. Mel knew that Silco would come for her, and rather than wait for him to attack, she set up her own ambush. Caitlyn’s shock was overtaken by admiration.

Silco seemed to share it as he said, “Intimidate you. Why would I ever do that?”

Mel said, “You. Tell. Me.”

A rumble came from Silco’s skinny throat, and Caitlyn realized he was laughing. Not a mocking laugh, a respectful one. He took a long, languid sip from his scotch, before beginning. “We’ve worked in opposition for years, Mel. Ever since you took office, you’ve been a thorn in my side.”

“A fact that I take great pride in,” she said, toasting him mid air.

“But you know you’ve gone too far this time.” He spoke with a deep, slow drawl. Caitlyn had seen videos, interviews of him before, but he was so much more sinister in person. It wasn’t so much the way he looked. His presence carried a weight with it. An unsettling cloud.

He said, “Politics is one thing, but our personal projects are another. Hextech and Shimmer have only thrived because they were in separate industries. Nothing must disrupt that delicate balance. You understand, of course, as a capitalist.”

“You’re a capitalist, too,” she said, grinning like this was a game. She was playing the part well, even though her fingers clutched her glass too tightly. “Aren’t we supposed to like competition?”

“Come now, Mel.” His tone lacked Mel’s playfulness. “Even if I let this go, allow you to operate, you cannot compete with me. Jinx’s singles have outsold every one of Ekko’s, and I doubt your new mystery talent can compare to Finn’s years of experience.”

When Silco said Powder’s stage name, Caitlyn jolted, though she didn’t mean to. A rush of fury ignited her: how could he act so casual? When he was the one who took her, stole her. She clenched her fist involuntarily, drawing the attention of his bodyguard. The woman pulled back her patterned poncho to reveal a holster and gun. Caitlyn forced herself to be calm. She regretted not wearing her own concealed carry. To be fair, she didn’t think she needed it for what was supposed to be a goddamn lunch.

Mel asked, “How is Finn’s tour, by the way? Sold out shows, every one? And you know, I haven’t seen any new Jinx content in months. When exactly is her new album coming out?”

He had been sprawled on the chair, but now leaned forward, baited into ire. His scarred cheek contorted with a grimace. “Watch yourself, Medarda. I didn’t come here to be insulted.”

“No,” she acknowledged with a graceful nod. “No, you did not, and please know that I understand your concerns. And…” She set her water on the table, her ring clinking on the glass as she did so. “I believe I have a solution, if you’re willing to hear me out.”

“... I’m listening.”

Mel said, “Instead of competing in the charts, let’s settle this once and for all. I suggest we have a contest: your artists against mine. We’ll televise it, and put it to a public vote.”

It was simple, but apparently effective, because once Silco processed the information, he scoffed in amusement. “This is just a game to you, isn’t it?”

“I heard you liked games,” she said.

He purred, “You heard right. What do I get if I win?”

“Mmm, perhaps a cash prize, some exorbitant amount. We can negotiate the particulars later,” said Mel. “So start thinking about what you want.”

“No. If I’m putting Shimmer’s reputation on the line, I need to know the risk.”

Mel laughed, a short, bright sound. “What risk? You’ll have the nation watching with bated breath. The publicity alone is worth it.”

He mulled it over. “We both know Jinx will win.”

“Alone, perhaps. Which is why I was thinking we might make it more interesting.” Her smile was no longer easygoing, but sly. “I also heard you used to be in a band. Wouldn’t it be appropriate for your heir to follow in your footsteps?”

Caitlyn held her breath. The subject had always been a sore spot for Vander and Benzo: they rarely spoke of The Hounds, and never mentioned Silco’s betrayal. She couldn’t imagine how Silco would react.

But he smiled. A slimy smile, but pleased all the same. “A good old fashioned battle of the bands. You’ve outdone yourself this time, Mel.”

“So you accept?”

Silco shifted in his chair, swirling what was left of his drink. “I’ll have to speak to my shareholders.”

Mel bowed her head, draping her fingers against the desk. “I expected as much. But I do hope you’ll consider it.”

“Trust me, I will.” He downed the last of the scotch before standing. The bodyguard jerked as he did so. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“You won’t stick around for the meal?” Mel asked, though she clearly knew what his response would be.

“I’m not hungry.” Silco gave the bodyguard a quick glance. “Come, Sevika.”

Sevika. That was her name. Caitlyn was sure to commit it to memory.

The room lightened when he left. The weight of his presence was gone, replaced by the friction between Caitlyn and Mel.

Mel cleared her throat. “Before you start, allow me to apologize for blindsiding you, and know that I appreciate your flexibility.”

Caitlyn scoffed the word out. “Flexibility! As if I had much choice!”

“Keep your voice down,” Mel said, obeying her own command. “At least until they’re out of the building.”

“Why? So you can keep playing your little power games? I’m not your pawn, Mel!”

“I know,” Mel sighed. “I’m sorry, Caitlyn, truly. All I ask is that you give me the chance to explain myself.”

Caitlyn stewed, unsure what to say next. So much had happened in so little time, and she needed a moment to process. But then her stomach growled, betraying her.

A tiny smile pulled at Mel’s mouth. “But first, we should go. I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.”

[kosmosguk]

Bloody Artistry (M) ~🥀

pairing: celeb! kim taehyung x journalist! reader; minor pairings: jungkook x reader, coworker jimin x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 8K

Summary: when the scrutiny of fame becomes too much, perfect kim taehyung finds his peace within a lavish bathroom located two blocks away from the nearest club, a corpse in the bed with him. the fans have never questioned his behavior, not when his company is much too good at cleaning up his mess to not have done it before, but when a reporter with too many questions threatens to break the peace he’s established, he finds himself in a tango with the devil that he can’t bring himself to want to break.

[Warnings: MURDER, death, literally Taehyung being a sick bastard 25/8 (but only in fiction), company corruption, violence, yandere themes, mentions of noncon smut (intoxication, mentions of being drugged, fingering), blackmail, obsession, stalking. EVERYTHING that happens in this fic is FICTION; plz don’t go busting nuts for serial killers]

A/N: Thank you to yoongissugarmommy for requesting this! Part 1 of a short series starring Taehyung. Was going to do smth similar to Lineage with him, but this has been staying in my drafts for too long (like i wrote most of this before I even wrote Lineage, which is why my writing for part of this is a bit different from my current one), and I feel like going a bit modern now to take a break from Lineage (taking a bit to write pt. 4 just because it’s the end of the main story). Thank you for 2.9k followers! We’re only less than 50 away from 3K which is so wild to think about; kisses and hugs to everyone who’s supported my work! 

“Today, in the studio, we have our nation’s golden boy, the first love of all of our viewers: Kim Taehyung. Everyone, please clap your hands for him!’’

The MC turned to grin at the audience as the audience cheered loudly; her glossy black hair swept down and framed her face delicately in perfect shiny strands. The lipstick that coated her unnaturally wide smile was a deep shade of red, stark against her pale white skin. Dressed in her primly pressed suit, she looked lovely, like a blooming rose, but as she turned to face the guest star, his presence seemed to easily outshine her own.

“Thank you for having me. It’s an honor to have an interview here and have an opportunity to see all of my lovely fans,’’ Taehyung’s deep voice rang out as he smiled in his heart-swooning way, flashing pure-white teeth handsomely in a carefully maintained and practiced way that made all the fans, both in the studio and watching from beyond a screen, unable to resist letting out shrieks and screams.

“Now, Taehyung-ssi, with a record-breaking album that topped the charts as soon as it came out and a modelling gig that sells out magazines faster than before, how does it feel to have really made it? It must stress you out. Any tips on how to relax?’’

Taehyung leaned back slightly in his seat, his smile flashing coy for a brief second before settling into a rehearsed contemplative expression. He shrugged his shoulders, letting them drop out, as he made a soft hmm noise.

“How I relax? It’s not that big of a deal, really, but that’s an interesting question to ask, noona,’’ Taehyung widened his eyes slightly, looking ever so much like the golden boy persona he had stickered upon his reputation,’’ When I’m really, really stressed, I like to play with Tannie, my dog, and eats lots of yummy food that my mom sends to me when I get stressed. Also, my manager Namjoon is a good person to talk to when I’m really stressed; he always knows what to do and say.’’ Taehyung tapped the tip of his nose lightly, scrunching his face in an expression that made fans coo in adoration. “I also like to think of my fans and read all the letters they’ve sent me. I saved all of my letters from my beloved fans since my debut, and I like looking through them.’’

“Hey, Kim Namjoon, fucking hurry up,” Taehyung hissed into the cellphone pressed against his flawless cheek,” My shoes are going to get stained at this point. You know blood is a pain to properly get out of letter.’’

“Were you at least careful this time? We don’t want rumors getting out,” Namjoon’s voice crackled over the receiver, barely a hint of emotion in his voice. The beeping and honking of cars on his side of the phone call signaled the rush his manager was making towards his location.

Taehyung huffed in agitation, clicking his tongue sharply in annoyance as he skimmed his nails for any trace of dried blood. “Oh, come on, you think I really even care at this point? With the way the company takes care of everything, you’d think perfect ol’ me was…well perfect. But still, aren’t you guys way too good at this job? 7 girls and not even a peek from the public. Who else do you do this for, huh? Suga-sunbae? J-hope-sunbae?”

There was no reply. Taehyung threw his gaze over to the practically mangled body. Too bad, he thought to himself, she was really pretty this time. Red lipstick, silky black hair, wanted to become better acquainted with such a famous celebrity after her little interview, the whole fanatic spiel tied with a pretty bow of the title of an mc. She would’ve never thought that she’d go from being a bed-warmer to being so cold.

“I must be right then, huh? Suga-sunbae I can see, but J-Hope-sunbae…’’ Taehyung whistled lowly under his breath. “I thought you’d at least deny that. It’s the bright ones you gotta watch out for.’’

A dial noise was the only response. Did…Did this bastard hang up on him? Taehyung grimaced before three knocks rang on the door of the hotel suite, a signal from his asshole manager that Namjoon had finally arrived. Taehyung rolled back his shoulders, his joints crackling a little, and made sure all of his jewelry was perfectly back in place before he opened the door.

As Namjoon shuffled in with some of the staff members, Taehyung clasped his silver watch around his wrist with a soft click. He rolled his neck, trying to get the stiffness out of it, and exposed purple marks and bruises from the bites the now dead girl had given him when they had been fucking earlier.

Finally, his headache was gone.

You chugged down a cup of stale coffee and wiped the dribble of liquid that escaped the corner of your mouth as you clicked off some article about a newbie mc receiving slander after rumors of her making moves on a popular idol was exposed and disappearing to avoid the backlash. Squinting at your screen with dry eyes, you pursed your lips and snapped the laptop shut, pushing the device away from you in an agitated huff.

“Wbat’s got you in the gutters, huh? Let me guess…,’’ Park Jimin, your desk mate, rolled his chair over to your side, his glasses askew on his nose,” Ah, your favorite celebrity go into a dating scandal? Let me think, who was it that recently go into a scandal… Oh, is it that pretty boy from a new idol group?’’

You gave him the stink-eye, and your sigh this time was even louder.

“You’d think there’d be something more…interesting going with these celebrities that we could get our hands on. Too much money, lots of stress, yet no story that’ll really seize the audience by surprise, and don’t you dare say a dating scandal would do it. Boss’s been on my case for the whole week on writing an article to shock the audience and wants me to release a major headliner story in two weeks, or that asshole’ll fire me. Damn it, Kim Seokjin!” you hissed out before slamming your forehead onto the desk.

“Man, be careful with your volume; if he hears your tone, he’ll chew you out for another hour that you could be using to research. Boss Kim is picky like that with everyone because our company’s a small piece of seaweed in a system dominated by crustaceous predators.” Jimin poked you in the side jokingly, his plush lips spread in a wide smile that lit up his exhausted face. “Just think really hard; use that big brain of yours and focus on a celebrity. Come on, no one’s perfect, even that one super famous idol Kim Taehyung must have some flaws, so don’t sweat it.”

“That golden boy? Man, the whole nation’s pussy-whipped for him. He couldn’t possibly be anything bu—,’’ you sharply inhaled before pushing your seat back and rapidly swiveling to face Jimin,’’ Park. Fucking. Jimin. Oh my God, you’re a fucking genius! A whole career with not even a speck of dirt… Come on, even pure-faced idol Soyeon was caught with a scandal last month. There must be something on the nation’s golden boy!’’

Jimin’s eyes widened in surprise with your sudden outburst, and he opened his mouth to speak. “Be careful about the way you go when you try to fish out info on him. His company’s security isn’t something easy to get through, and not a single celeb from that company has gotten into a single scandal. No reporters been able to get any dirt from them…”

“Which means that…there’s something sketchy happening. Jimin, Jimin, have I told you I’m in love with you?’’

You turned around quickly in your chair, spinning in glee. Jimin dropped his mouth open to sputter something, and his cheeks were tinging red, but you weren’t looking at or even listening to Jimin at hat point, having already cracked open your laptop to furiously type Kim Taehyung into Naver. This was it! Your big break! Your motivation sky-rocketed, and you felt the first rush of energy that wasn’t fueled by some caffeinated drink in a long while.

Two hours later, you were ready to throw up.

All of the results were sickeningly the same bullshit, as what was expected for someone as beloved by the nation as Kim Taehyung was. You couldn’t fathom the amount of fancams and magazine spreads of him posing on some brown leather sofa and fact pieces—hell, you even knew what kind of socks the man liked—that you had spent the past hours scrolling through.

Realizing that the office was nearly empty, and that the sky was dimming into a dark hue, you were about to shut down your laptop and call it a long fucking day when a tweet on someone’s SNS caught your eye.

@truth-teller: kim taehyung? nation’s golden boy? are you all really sure about that nonsense?

The tweet was spammed with angered replies, so many that the thread seemed to stretch on for at least a mile, but your interest was piqued. This was the first word of slander you had ever witnessed against Taehyung. You quickly pounded out a message to the account.

@name_01: hey, I saw your tweet about taehyung! Do you perhaps have any more information on him? I find him suspicious too.

You tapped send and waited with bated breath for a reply. Minutes crept by, and you were about to turn off your phone and head out of work when you noticed three dots pop up, dancing before disappearing.

@truth-teller: you fr? I had to suspend my acc because of all the spam I got. No one’s believed me on it, but I have proof

You chewed on your lip. What if this was a joke, and you were just wasting your time on some internet troll with too much time on their hands. It seemed like you were taking too long to reply because another message popped up.

@truth-teller: if you don’t believe me then that’s fine. I don’t have to waste my time

@name_01: WAIT! Sorry, it took me a second to comprehend this information… Please tell me more.

You were worried that the account wouldn’t reply anymore, and that you had ruined your opportunity before the three dots popped up again and another message was sent.

@truth-teller: ok, if you want to find out more let’s move to a better messaging platform, just in case my acc gets suspended by more fans. here’s my number: xxx-xxx-xxxx

It was a gamble to send some stranger on the internet your number, but at this point, you were too desperate to really give a damn. There was a story just out of the reach of your fingertips; you would be a fool to deny the carrot on a stick you were being provided.

@name-01: okay, I’ll message you.

Name: hey! Truth-teller right? This is me from the messages

JK: yeah that’s me. I prefer JK when I’m not on sns tho

Name: I’m (y/n). I don’t mean to sound like I’m hurrying you, but I want to hear what you have to say about Taehyung.

JK: lol r u a reporter or smth? Real bossy of you keke

You sucked in a breath. Should you reveal that?

Name: haha would it be bad if I said I was?

There was no response for the next 15 minutes. Exhaling a long sigh, you decided that you should at least maneuver your way home; the office had been cleared out completely during your conversation with this JK, and you couldn’t help the creeps that the emptiness gave you. If anything, the walk back to your place would give you some outlet for the nervous energy radiating throughout you. You were nearly at the door of your apartment when your phone vibrated in your pocket, signaling a message.

JK: just checking. Makes sense that you’re one though. It’d be nice if you could break this story out, but I hope you trust me enough after I tell you what I know

You clicked the door shut behind you, your eyebrows creased as you stared at your phone screen.

Name: don’t worry. I trust you!

You dropped your bag down onto the sofa before throwing your body onto the seat. The three dots under JK’s name popped up for several minutes before disappearing. In the place of the three dots, a long message had been typed out.

JK: I didn’t really think much of taehyung when I first heard about him since he’s the nation’s golden boy or whatever bs title they call him nowadays, but my sister’s friend was a big fan of him. she went out with my sister and they met him in some shady club in gangnam. my sister’s friend got to talk to him exclusively and my sister got separated from her and got a text from her friend saying that she had smth come up and she already went home. she tried to contact her friend the day after, but she got a text back saying that her friend wasn’t feeling well. my sister’s friend was “best friends’’ with her but she didn’t contact my sister again until a week later saying she got a job opportunity overseas and already was about to board on the plane because it was important she got there fast. my sister’s friend didn’t contact her again like she dropped off the face of the earth

You pursed your lips in contemplation as you tapped out a message back, your nails clicking against the screen.

Name: ?? Are you sure that isn’t a coincidence?

JK: yeah, I thought so too but it was rly sus that my sister’s friend who had known my sister for 12 years to suddenly go overseas for a job opportunity without telling her at all. and when my sister tried to get new contact info from her friend there was no reply. but I got curious and since I do some computer work for my job i wanted to see if I could track the ip address of her phone but there was nothing. her last previous ip was all the way back in gangnam and my sister’s friend lived in incheon. that was a red flag so I decided to go talk to the landlord at my sister’s friend’s old apartment and the landlord said he didn’t see her come back since before that night but woke up to a fully paid lease and the apartment cleared out 

You squinted your eyes at the screen, unable to properly process the information that this so-called JK had just given you. Chewing on your lip, you closed your eyes briefly before opening them back up and typing back a message.

Name: anything else? Sorry…just seems a bit far-fetched.

JK: think whatever then. I have to go to work now

Right when JK’s message popped up, another message pinged on your cell. You refused to let yourself ponder more on JK’s last message as you clicked on your friend’s text notification.

Platonic LOML <3: BAE, R U FREE TONIGHT? I’m lonely n want someone to come with me to this club— ik you’re not into clubs but pretty please

You were about to reply with a refusal when JK’s words came up to your mind again. You didn’t know why, but there was a sharp feeling in your gut that told you that you couldn’t miss this opportunity Call it silly intuition or some coincidental fabrication spurned by your mind, but that feeling persisted until you typed out a reply to your friend.

Name: okay fine. Come over in 30.

Taehyung swirled the liquid in his glass, watching the deep burgundy of the wine stain the glass a soft pink. His head was hurting again, and the new medication he had been taking for them on advice of the company didn’t work.

He scanned the dim, musty club, watching the pulsating lights cloak the dancing bodies in sallow shades of pale yellow. This club was a downgrade from his previous celebrity-exclusive club that he had gone to the previous week, but his manager had told him that if he really wanted peace, he should choose an area where no one would really know him.

Taehyung knew the real reason why his manager had insisted on this. Deaths of other celebrities were much harder to cover up after all.

Pity he actually followed his manager’s advice for once. The wine in here, despite the bougie price tag, was complete shit and provided him a slight buzz at best. And there was no one who really caught his eye out of the crowd of people. As he was about to get up from his seat and leave the club for somewhere with better—he contemplated going back to that celebrity club just to fuck with his company—pickings, he caught sight of someone entering the club.

You looked absolutely gorgeous, swathed in a black shift that you kept fighting to keep over your ass—and god, was it a plump ass too, the kind that made Taehyung’s cock hard in his tight black pants—with hair framing your face in a breathtaking way that showed glimpses of sparkling jewelry. Your friend, some chick with dyed green hair that Taehyung didn’t bother paying attention to, was clinging onto your arm, dragging you near the dance floor.

Taehyung knew.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

His head seemed to clear from the mind-numbing throb it always had when he spent too much time without another victim to take his aggression out of. Feeling the cool metal of the blade he always had tucked near his body, Taehyung sat back down in his seat, a playful smile perking at the edges of his lips. Funny enough, the blood thirst that never seemed to properly leave him was gone from his mind, an occurrence that was as rare as the pills the company liked shoving down his throat actually working for once.

You maneuvered your way over to the bar, to him, your friend pouting as she noticed you leaving before melting away into the crowd of grinding bodies. Taehyung swore then and there that the attraction between you and him was absolutely magnetic, with the way you seemed to pull the other towards one another.

He watched as you ordered some pretty-colored martini, adorably scrunching your face as the burn of alcohol coated your tongue and hit the back of your throat with a singe.

Maybe, Taehyung though to himself as he propped his chin lazily on his palm, he should really start listening to his manager more often.

Your mind was in a haze, and you didn’t even notice the man next to you until he was nearly pressed to your side, barely leaving a gap of space between the two of you.

You glanced at him, your tipsy mind suddenly sobering up as you realized who the man sitting next to you was. Kim Taehyung? What the fuck was he doing here?

“Another drink for a pretty lady?” Taehyung’s teeth showed as he charmingly flashed an award-winning coquettish smile at you, his already extremely handsome features seeming to increase in beauty from the grin.

You remembered JK’s words and a chill ran up your spine. God, his messages didn’t seem so implausible now, did they? Goosebumps rose up on your skin, freezing you to the bar table. Were…Were you his next victim?

You swallowed dryly as you tried to calm your racing heartbeat. The side of you that was a reckless journalist wanted to take a nosedive at the headliner just out of reach, but the rational side of you knew that leap of faith had a much bigger chance of you ending up disappearing off for a new job opportunity overseas, as Taehyung’s company would have it. You couldn’t write a good story if you were dead, after all.

“Thank you, but I can pay for my own drinks,’’ your lips twitched slightly as you forced them into a hopefully convincing gentle smile, refusing his offer softly before moving your body casually a few inches away from him,” Having drinks bought by strangers isn’t really my thing.”

Your smile must’ve looked a hell of a lot less nervous than you actually felt and a lot more convincing too because Taehyung’s shoulders, which had previously been winded like he was a predator getting ready to pounce on prey, seemed to relax at your words.

There was a dark gleam in his eyes when he again invaded your personal space and pushed his body near yours. He leaned in and whispered softly into your ears, his voice clear despite the early 2010s hits blaring from the speakers by the dance floor.

“If you’re scared of strangers, why don’t we get to know each other a bit?’’

Your fake smile grew stiff on your face. You felt like you were going to hurl the convenience store meal of ramen that you had scarfed before coming to the club all over the bar and Taehyung’s expensive luxury bran clothes. You could feel a sense of dread in your bones, the kind a prey animal would feel as a predator focused its carnivorous attention on them.

You forced a fake laugh, trying to drive the message that you were just not interested to Taehyung as loud and clear as you could manage.

“No thanks; I have enough people I’m close to. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve left my friend alone for far too long on the dance floor.”

You pushed yourself off the bar table, flashing a strained polite smile before you headed over the dance floor, trying to keep your pace slow and steady instead of breaking out into the outright run you wanted to do.

Taehyung inhaled the linger scent of your perfume, a natural smell that sweetly layered itself over the damp musky air of the club. His eyes, even as you tried to focus on the pounding music and forget the fear embedded deeply in your gut, never seemed to leave your form. Even when you burrowed yourself deeply into the crowd away from his view, you could still feel it.

You found yourself painfully sober after that encounter, trying to look normal in front of your friend for the rest of the night that seemed to painstakingly drag on for eternity. Even when you had the short 2-minute walk from the cab you took to your front door, you didn’t stop looking over your shoulder, still feeling the chill that came with the thought of Taehyung’s gaze. When you got inside your home, the bubbling nausea in your stomach took control over you, and you ended up heaving your dinner down the toilet.

When you managed to somewhat pull yourself together, you typed out a quick message with practically shaking fingers to the only one you could think of in that moment would understand what you were feeling, You stared at your unsent message before hastily pressing send.Name: I didn’t know who to talk to, but I saw Taehyung at the club today. I think you’re right about what you said about Taehyung.

Name: I didn’t know who to talk to, but I saw Taehyung at the club today. I think you’re right about what you said about Taehyung.

Ping!

You barely managed to fall asleep that night, and your eyes painfully ached when you peeled your eyelids open, hurriedly grabbing your phone and turning it on to check your messages.

JK: what happened? Sry for late response. Job keeps me busy all night

Your fingers flew over the keyboard as you typed out your message, furrowing your eyebrows in concentration as you tried to relay the events of your night in hopefully comprehensible words.

Name: I went with my friend to some sketchy club idk what area at this point but I went to the bar and I felt someone come up to me ?? I turned and realized it was Taehyung, and he offered to buy me a drink but I declined. Makes me sick how I could’ve been his next victim, so I tried to leave and go back to where there was more ppl in the club, But I can’t stop thinking about the look in his eyes. There was something sickening in them, I couldn’t put my finger on it.

JK didn’t respond for a bit, and you exhaled a trembling breath when his message popped up.

JK: be careful. Im glad you managed to get away

Name: I’m scared. I didn’t know what to do, but hopefully I’ll never see him again once I get this scoop out.

JK: stay safe. Thx for telling me. Text me if anything else happens.

You let out a shaky breath before clicking your phone off, your nerves still rattled but slightly more calmed down after talking with JK. You had to get ready for work, but at this rate, you weren’t even sure how you would be able to get through the day. Maybe you should take a sick day? No, you couldn’t.

The elevator dinged closed behind you as you stepped out of it into the office. As you were about to take a seat at your desk, your boss rushed out of his office, relief, something he never showed to you, evident on his expression once he caught sight of you.

“(Y/n)! Come into my office; I have an important job for you,’’ your boss ushered you into his office without another word, practically pushing a baffled you into the room frantically,” You know the company that manages Kim Taehyung? They reached out and agreed to an exclusive one-on-one interview with Kim Taehyung only, and only, if you agreed to the interview.”

You stiffened, your body frozen as you tried to process the words your boss had just spoken. Your brain seemed to be running a marathon as you computed the words your boss said, and you could only meekly respond with a limp,” Why me? Can’t somebody…Can’t someone else take over? Boss…you know I’m not that experienced.”

Boss Kim barely paid any attention to your words as he rested a hand on your shoulder with a confident look on his face.

“Then, use this opportunity to get more experience. You want to show the world that you’re a journalist by getting a scoop? Then take this interview! You know the company never agrees to exclusive one-on-one interviews unless they’re all staged, but there wasn’t even talk of this being staged at all. If you can use this opportunity and get something big, won’t this be your biggest step towards a great journalist career?’’ your boss exclaimed,’’ If you back out, another chance like this won’t come again!”

As much of an asshole Boss Kim was sometimes, you could find the logic in his words. Besides, it must be a coincidence that Kim Taehyung wanted you specifically to give him an interview; maybe he wanted a newbie, so they wouldn’t have much experience trying to fish out personal details and twist his words.

That’s right. There was no way he even remembered what you looked like. You guys interacted for, what, a solid 2 minutes last night. And if you did this interview right, you could use it as a building block as evidence for the headliner you intended to release with what JK had told you.

You exhaled, nodding your head firmly.

“I will. I’ll take this interview.”

Boss Kim’s face brightened, making him look much more like the stereotypical handsome CEO character found in dramas. Since he always looked exhausted and stressed out, he always seemed more intimidating, an aura that seemed to scare off any thoughts about how gorgeous he actually was. You had to admit: your heart did flutter a bit at his face.

“Excellent! He’s waiting in the meeting room right now! You only need, what, six hours to prepare, right?”

Fuck, you take back that heart flutter. Boss Kim was an asshole.

“S-Sir,’’ you sputtered,” I can’t…’’

Before you even finished your words, Boss Kim was already ushering you back out of the office.

“I believe in you! You got this!”

He closed the door behind you. You swallowed back the mouthful of swears you wanted to spew before scrambling towards your desk.

You weren’t prepared, but you knew you would do anything for a scoop.

Exactly 6 hours and seventeen seconds later, you were primly seated in front of Kim Taehyung.

The seats were annoyingly too close, and you cursed Boss Kim in your heart, knowing that the reason why the chairs were placed in such an unprofessional manner was because Boss Kim wanted to create the perfect intimate setting for no cost. If you tried to extend your legs, you’d end up smacking them straight into Taehyung’s legs.  

You, although disgruntled, had to admit that there was a reason why so many major brands wanted him as their model. He was handsome under the shitty lighting of the musty club last night, but here, with his hair and makeup carefully done despite the fluorescent lighting of the room, he was every synonym of the word beautiful combined into one person.

Blond strands of his hair brushed his chiseled features, and his eyes, curved attractively and framed with delicate long wisps of eyelashes, was intensely focused on your face. He looked ever like a marble statue, carved with attention and detail to be the most perfect specimen artistry could ever create. But he wasn’t perfect; that was what you knew. And that would also be what would you get just one step ahead of him.

You swept a piece of hair and tucked it behind an ear as you scanned your hastily scribbled notes. His eyes clung to that movement, as if he was mesmerized by your every action, and you peeked a look through your lashes. Your eyes met, and you forced a stiff smile.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you rolled your shoulders back into a proper posture, gingerly extending a hand out for him to take,” Good morning. It’s an honor to be able to do an interview with you.”

The edges of his lips tilted upward, and there was a playful glint in his eyes as his previous fiercely predatory state melted into the façade he put up in front of the public. He reached out and took your hand, throwing you off guard as he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

“Likewise, it’s an honor to have an interview with you, (Y/n).’’

Yuck, you were going to have to wash your hands later. Anyways, what kind of person even kissed the back of people’s hands nowadays? This was the 21st century for fuck’s sake. You somehow kept your grimace to yourself.

You nervously laughed as you practically yanked your hand back out of his grasp. You casually wiped the back of your hand on the fabric of your skirt, disguising the movement as simply brushing off dust. Taehyung’s eyes didn’t leave any of your movements, and he laughed a little as he realized just what you were doing.

Oh, you were so interesting. You weren’t like the rest of them, the fans that threw themselves at him adoringly; hell, he was sure you weren’t even a fan. He was entranced. When he was close to you, the headaches seemed to fade; he didn’t want to drown himself in another body when he was with you. He didn’t want to kill when he was with you.

You ignored his burning gaze, breezing through the beginning parts of the interview. Finally, you reached the part that you had been anxiously preparing for.

“So, I heard that you’re trying out a new actor role. As a model and an artist and now an actor, we have to admit that your talents are incredibly versatile, Kim Taehyung-ssi.’’ You continued speaking. “Could you tell us a little more about this role?’’

“You flatter me too much, (Y/n).’’ He purposefully had left any formalities to the wind in this interview, a move that made you want to grind your teeth. “Yes, I was offered one of the leading roles in a new thriller movie. I’ll be acting as one of the charismatic but complex characters. I hope to show you and all of my fans a new side to Kim Taehyung.”

“Ah, a new side,’’ you nodded lightly,” Your new role as a charismatic serial killer who targets his admirers is certainly what many would call…complex. How do you go about preparing for such a twisted role?”

“Hmm…,’’ Taehyung’s lips curled up menacingly for a brief moment before fading away into a breezy smile,’’ It’s quite difficult to immerse myself into a role in which I have limited experience in, so I like to read through the script and make a map of what the character is like. What motivates him; what makes him so…complex, as you called it. I pretend to be like the character. How do I make myself think like him? That’s the question I like to try to find an answer to.”

“Ah, this is simply my personal opinion, but to truly play the character requires some true life experience…Is it possible that you’ve ever done anything similar to what the character has done in real life?”

A pin seemed to drop in that very moment from the silence that crowded the room. Everyone in the room froze and stared at you, their glances less than pleasant. You bore it all as you stared intently into his eyes. Slip up, you prayed, do something that will make you slip up. There was not even a brief soft sound in the 10 seconds that it took for Taehyung to respond.

He was rigid, the smile plastered on his face barely fading. Come on, you begged, expose yourself just a bit.

“Your response is lagging for just a bit, Kim Taehyung-ssi. It makes you seem guilty just a bit, doesn’t it?’’

He snapped out of it right then and there.

“I was simply contemplating my response. Your impatience is something not so befitting of a formal interview. To answer your question, isn’t a role just a role at the end of the day? If you think about it, I’m not the only person to have played a role like this. Many actors and actresses have done so without any thought of relating it to their real life. After all, a role is simply an imaginary self.”

You both stared into each other’s eyes, and you felt the gazes of other people around you burn into you.

You settled on a retreat. It was fine; this interview was just the first building block. You laughed lightly, throwing off the previous tense silence easily.

“Of course! We wouldn’t expect nothing but, right? We hope to see your talent truly shine through in this new role!’’

The tenseness in the room seemed to slip away right then, and the deathly gazes on you flitted away, like they were never there in the first place.

You let out a sigh as you left the interview room. God, that was terrifying, but you knew that you had to do what you had just previously done. What you had just done asserted the theory that you had. His company was hiding something about him, and that something was nothing less than downright horrific.

JK, you thought to yourself, I’m going to expose this story, just you wait.

“You weren’t just going to leave, huh?’’

You heard a familiar voice speak behind you, and you quickly spun around.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you forced out of your throat,’’ I believed you had already left.”

“I was going to, but I wanted to speak to you about the interview. The company rarely lets me do interviews, so it was really refreshing to have one done with you. We worked so well together, and I would like to thank you for the pleasant experience you had given me with dinner. You must be starving, right?’’

You had been starving earlier, but one word from Taehyung left your stomach churning in nausea.

“No!’’ your voice was a bit too loud, so you hastily softened it,’’ No, that’s not necessary. You don’t need to thank me.”

Taehyung took steps closer to you, and you unconsciously took a step back. Noticing your movements, he looked at you and flashed a grin that might’ve looked harmless to others but outright menacing to you.

“Are you scared of me?’’ his voice was almost like a purr. You fought back a shiver, straightening your back and looking him straight in the eyes.

“No,’’ you stabilized your voice, keeping a waver out of it,” Why would I be scared of you? You’re not some higher being than me just because you’re a celebrity. You’re human, after all. But, as you can see, I have work to do, so I will have to politely decline your offer.”

“You can have the rest of the day off.”

You spun around on your heels, your gaze colliding with Boss Kim’s. When did he arrive?

“Sir! Boss! No, if I skipped out on work, I’d be a burden to everyone. Besides, I—,’’ your voice was cut off by another voice.

“It’d be good to establish a positive relationship between your company and ours. Your boss would usually be the one to go to a dinner, but I believe he already has plans. Any work you were unable to fulfill today will be taken care of.”

The voice seemed to chill you to the bone. You turned to make eyes with a man. Was he…Taehyung’s manager? Although he was handsome, the kind of handsome that was comparable with Taehyung’s, something about him churned your stomach. While Taehyung was like a predator waiting to pounce on his prey, the man behind this voice was already sinking his teeth into the neck, wringing out the… You snapped out of your thoughts.

Snap out of it, you mentally scolded yourself.  

“How about it?’’ Taehyung’s manager coldly smiled, his tone like glaciers.

You opened your mouth to try to refute, but with the burning gaze from your boss, you could only dip your head in a bow, your voice low.

“Thank you for the offer. I accept.”

They couldn’t kill you, right? It’d be too obvious.

You followed them out, and when you passed by Boss Kim, you made a panicked glance at him. What greeted you made you halt briefly in your pace.

When Boss Kim made eye contact with you, he patted your shoulder in what should’ve been reassurance. His lips spread out in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Don’t disappoint me, hmm?’’

His words, spoken low and steady, left a chill in your veins as you kept walking, and the sliding doors of the elevator dinged close behind you, effectively trapping you with Taehyung and his manager.

You somehow made it out of the elevator and through the tense car ride alive. Now, you were seated next to Taehyung himself in the private room of a restaurant. Smoke rose from the grill, briefly obscuring your view of his manager from across you.

You tried to think positively of the situation. If Taehyung was drunk, maybe he’d slip up, but…you made a furtive glance at his manager from across the grill, slightly jolting when your eyes collided with his own. The fear that nearly overcame you made you nauseous.

“A drink?”

Taehyung’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned to see him already raising his glass. You stiffly smiled, barely managing to keep the nervous twitch out of the curves of your lips.

“I don’t drink.”

“It’s impolite to decline a friendly offer. Come on, a toast to a wonderful…partnership.” Taehyung chuckled, raising his glass, as he leaned his chin onto the propped palm of his hand,” And we wouldn’t want a bad start to it.”

You were panicking by now, but you could imagine what Boss Kim would say if Taehyung’s company pulled out because of something so miniscule. You couldn’t afford to lose your job, not with the way you had fought tooth and nail to get your position; you wouldn’t last a month without your job or the meager protection it gave you.

You made your decision, a decision you would’ve done anything else but avoid, and tilted the glass up, clinking it against Taehyung’s glass. Turning away, you made it look like you were lightly sipping the drink, but you only allowed the liquid to slightly wet your lips. You set down the still-full glass and smiled pleasantly.

“I can only drink this much. Anymore, and I would experience terrible side effects.”

Taehyung didn’t seem even irked by your feeble attempt at pretending; instead, his eyes filled with amusement. He didn’t stop staring at you, and the threatening vibe of it caused you to unconsciously delve into your habit of gripping your glass of water and drinking it in an attempt to calm your nerves.

You placed the empty glass back down before resuming anxiously picking at your food. A pair of chopsticks—specifically Taehyung’s chopsticks—placed a piece of barbecued meat on your bowl of rice.

“Not feeling hungry? You need to eat. Skipping meals is bad for your health,’’ Taehyung beamed as he watched you carefully pick up the piece of meat and eat it. It would’ve been delicious any other time, but the churning in your gut made it taste like sand in your mouth. You dryly swallowed it.

“I’m heading to the restroom.”

You heard Taehyung’s manager speak in his flat tone, and you threw a skittish glance at him as he stood up and walked out of the private room, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

“Ah, now that that nuisance is out of the way, why don’t we talk more?’’ Taehyung’s tone was playful, and you flinched as he leaned closer to you, his breath brushing against the outer shell of your ear.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you gritted the name through your teeth,” Please respect my personal space.”

He laughed lowly before he dropped a hand on your thigh. You were about to make a move to push him away, but your body suddenly felt tired, like you weren’t quite in control anymore.

“Come on, do what I say, and your little news company will do so much better. Your boss didn’t tell you this, but your company’s going bankrupt. One peep from me, and your company will rise in ranking, but I can only do that if I’m in a…happy mood.”

Taehyung pressed even closer to you, his nose against the curve of your neck as he inhaled your scent deeply in. His hands moved from his side and he ripped open the buttons of your shirt, groping your bra-covered tits. You let out an incoherent mumble in response, trying to flimsily kick at him.

Where was the waiter? Why was his manager taking so long? They planned this!

Disgust and heat coiled in your gut, but you were too dizzy to move. Something…that bastard…Did he spike your water? You were too careless, fuck. Taehyung moved one hand to tilt your chin up before his lips met yours. Despite how sloppy of a kiss it was, you could tell he was experienced, practically tasting every inner crevice of your soft mouth with his tongue, and you should’ve continued to be revolted, but whatever pill in your system had you melting into his mouth.

Taehyung seemed to sense the turmoil and conflict in you and the soft give of your will, and that seemed to make him even braver. He slid a hand up your skirt, his touch hot even through the fabric of your stockings, and you let out a startled moan against his lips, drool dribbling down the corners of your mouth. He pulled back, and you could barely see through the teary haze of your eyes. It had been too long since the last time you had a good fuck. You just wanted to be touched…wanted to be fucked so hard his cock would press against your womb.  

“I just want to see you let go a bit, baby,’’ there was the triumph of domination in his voice. The sober part of you wanted to rebel, wanted to push and scream and kick him away, but you weren’t sober, weren’t clear-minded. Your legs spread as if begging for more of his touch.

He ripped his fingers through your stocking, and the material easily gave way underneath his strength. You could feel the damp spot on your panties, growing as he rubbed his fingertips against your drooling pussy. You shivered slightly in delirious pleasure as his finger rolled over your throbbing clit.  

“Mmph!’’ you let out a sound as he pushed your soaked panties to the side and pushed his fingers deep into your pussy. You couldn’t object, not when your pussy was stretching with a spine-tingling ache around his fingers, and especially not when he begin to set a teasing pace. He pushed his fingers in, and you shut your eyes in shame as your moans grew louder.

Your toes curled as his movements grew faster, reaching deep into you, and you were so, so close. Oh my god you could feel…and you were cumming hard. Your walls shivered and twitched around his still moving fingers, and you murmured a dazed plea as he finally stilled and pulled his fingers out. You, still twitching from how hard you came earlier, were ashamed to see the way his fingers glistened with the remnants of your arousal and orgasm.

The sound of his pants being unclasped drew you out of your drugged state. No, he wasn’t going to…Come on, snap out of it, snap out of it.

He drew back closer again, and you sucked in a breath, trying to push through your daze. He leaned in. You managed to bring your arms up to the table, grabbing the nearest object that you could reach. Your trembling fingers closed around your nearly empty water glass, and you took it, raising it and smashing it as hard as you could over his head. Water, ice cubes, and glass shards struck as the glass broke. Taehyung, not expecting the blow, had a temporary moment of weakness, and you managed to push him off you.

You shoved yourself up onto shaky legs, wrapping the ripped blouse around your weakened body, and forced yourself into a run outside of the room. The hallway of the restaurant around the private rooms was empty, devoid of any person. You frantically looked over your shoulder, relieved that you didn’t see him coming after you. This was a public place, though it was late at night, and you knew Taehyung wouldn’t risk his perfect reputation. But still, you remembered his manager was still out there.

You couldn’t let them kill you…You had to survive! You broke into a blind run, ignoring the strange looks and the calls you got from the restaurant’s staff as you pushed out of the restaurant into the street. You kept running despite the dizziness of your mind, and you could barely see what was in front of you before…You crashed into someone, slamming into their body so hard that you were sent sprawling to the ground.

“Please…,’’ you choked out, your voice strangled, crying out a desperate plea as you grabbed onto their clothes,’’ Please help me.”

Your mind was dizzy, splotches of colors splattering your blurry vision. Your body had overexerted yourself, and you prayed that you wouldn’t end up a dead body on the news as your grip around the clothes went lip, and you collapsed into the road. Through the buzzing of your ears, you could hear a startled voice call out, feel a firm touch grab your shoulders and try to shake you awake. Some strange hope rose in you; maybe…maybe…?

You murmured desperately one last mumble, your words barely making sense, as you spiraled into unconsciousness.  

“JK…please help me.”

A/N: if you want to be added to the taglist for the next part, reply with a  ❤️. If you enjoyed the story, please leave a comment or a detailed review below <3

Next work will be a fic for Jungkook’s upcoming birthday. Poll will be released soon for what kind of plot it should have! 

[thotinshield]

Danny’s Bagginshield Fic Recs (2021)

I haven’t done a fic rec in literal years, and I keep meaning to, but then I... don’t. This is a massive list - so I will put it under a read more to save your dashes.

Modern AUs

A Remover of Obstacles by MistakenMagic

"Dis often chided her older brother for being a misanthropist. She did it so often it had become a term of endearment. It was true that Thorin struggled with people; he struggled to form and maintain relationships. Dr. Grey had diagnosed him with this and Thorin hadn’t the heart to tell him this wasn’t a symptom of his PTSD, it was a symptom of his personality. He exercised a sense of apathy with almost everyone he met… But Bilbo was different. Thorin actually found himself wanting to know more about him."

(Note: This fic deals with a lot of mental health stuff, panic attacks, etc, so please please mind the tags.)

By Request by HildyJ

As a musician, Thorin's life can be summed up in tempos. For instance, the concerto he's perfoming on Friday is Allegro - quick and bright, followed by Andantino - slightly slow, and then back to Allegro again.

On the other hand, his relationship with his cute neighbour? Larghissimo - very, very slow.

Stepping Stones by misplacedkisses

It feels like it's fate Thorin's trying to resist, his destiny, his bloodline.

Fresh out of inpatient, Thorin's struck with the urge and maybe it's fate (or therapy) that has him stumbling into a late-night cafe instead. It may be the start of a new life.

Write Me Down Easy by lucyraebrown

Bilbo Baggins, a simple man with a wish for something more than his life teaching high school English, is obsessed with a famous author by the pen-name Oakenshield. Although he knows the future is dim for his chances of finding out about the man behind his favorite book, it's reassuring to know someone has the same thoughts about the world.

Fix-its 

I'll Die to Care for You by thehufflepuffhobbit

His gaze landed on Mahal's eyes once more. "You did your best, Thorin." It was tempting to look away; he wanted to deny that with everything he had. It certainly didn't feel as though falling into Gold Sickness and then dying was doing his best. Mahal smirked, as though he knew Thorin's desire to contradict him, and pinched his cheek before walking over to a table. "Aye, I didn't think you would believe me. I'm not lying, it certainly could have gone better. More according to my plan, but I know you really did try."

"Your plan?" He didn't know if he should ask, really. Knowing that his Maker had set a course for him, he didn't want to think about the ways he had done everything wrong. There were too many examples of mistakes in his long life, too many opportunities that he had missed that had probably been planned for him from the beginning.

Or:

Mahal feels like Thorin fucked up his legacy and gives him a do over.

Roses of Iron by Porphyrios

Two years after Bilbo returned from his adventures, he's made his peace with being back in the Shire. He still wonders what might have happened if things were different, but figures all that is behind him now. A mysterious visitor turns out to be someone he never thought he'd see again, and he's shocked by the news he hears.

Beside Myself by bliboboggins

"What are you doing? Just who do you think you are?" Startled, Bilbo turned around slowly. And there, in a familiar patchwork dressing gown, brandishing a fire poker wildly about, was... Bilbo.

i wouldn't have danced like that with any but you by Percyjacksonfan3

Thorin has survived the Battle of the Five Armies but his relationship with Bilbo is uncertain and precarious, especially in the newly reclaimed kingdom of Erebor. With Kíli set to marry Tauriel, and the Dwarves of Erebor still holding prejudice against outside races, Thorin must choose between his nephew's happiness or his own.

Though he believes sending Bilbo back to the Shire is for the good of everyone, he and the rest of Erebor are thrown into turmoil when 5 years later his nephews secretly plot to bring Bilbo back. Coming face-to-face with Bilbo again makes it impossible for Thorin to stay apart from him any longer- but is Bilbo still willing to be with Thorin once more after he broke both of their hearts?

A Matter of Payment by heartshapeddog

"And Thorin rose from the little table, keeping Bilbo’s fingers crushed gently in his own, and went down to his knee before him. Bilbo was struck with the likelihood that no creature greater than a farm-dog had lowered its head before a Hobbit since the birth of Eä until this very moment. He looked down, fascinated, at the crown of Thorin’s head, bare of royal circlet, and felt at once humbled and strong.

“I swear it,” Thorin said, and Bilbo thought of the vows from Elven history, of the type which followed the oathkeeper to the ends of Arda as a deep and binding magic. Then, he took Bilbo’s knuckles up to his lips. The rasp of his beard and his soft mouth were shocking in their immediacy and contrast. Bilbo could not help his racing heart."

Feet that Wander Have Gone by WednesdaysDaughter

“Run away with me.”

Bilbo turns to see who would say such a cowardly thing only to realize it was his own traitorous mouth which has run away with his heart: They’re already down the mountain and past Mirkwood by the time he realizes no one has objected.

“What a delightful solution my dear boy,” says Gandalf who looks to the east where the eagles are skimming the horizon.

Other AUs

between synapses and circuits by MistakenMagic

Different diagnostic results slowly trickled through and Thorin swiped them all to different corners of the screen depending on their relevance and evidence of abnormality. He paused when a particular chart appeared and smiled to himself.

“What?” Bilbo murmured, sounding genuinely worried.

“Your heterochromia,” Thorin explained, meeting Bilbo’s green and blue gaze. “The irregular algorithm that causes it has been running for almost half a century.”

“Most mechatronics offer to fix it for me,” Bilbo said, looking away, seeming suddenly self-conscious.

“Then they’re idiots.”

(Note: I just love MistakenMagic’s works. That’s all. This one is good and she writes angst so so well.)

past one hundred thousand miles (feeling very still) by childishinquiry

Commander Thorin Oakenshield is the leader of the first Mars mission, Project Golden Eagle, with twelve crewmen. Back on Earth, Specialist Bilbo Baggins is their communications specialist. Making history is easy; it's much harder to deal with falling in love with the person on the other end of the signal.

Hallowbit by batherik

As simple pawn shop owner in the human world, Bilbo isn’t all that thrilled to find himself lost in Thorin’s magical undead kingdom. Lured there by an old man dressed in grey, who turned out to be a wizard, Bilbo is charged with doing a job no one wants to do: fetch the King’s head from the corn maze. The King often loses his head when his temper boils over.

In the House of a Skinchanger by Bardic

Thorin and Company have finally reached a safe house after a few crazy weeks on the road. After three days of goblins, orcs, and a massive bear that's chased them into the home of one of Gandalf's acquaintances the Company is quite exhausted and quite tired of surprises. Unfortunately for them, or fortunately there is another staying there.

Master Baggins is not who the Company expected to find, especially when he claims to be one of the only outsiders Durin allowed a title and a rank to. Although that's the least surprising thing about him.

Thorin makes some discoveries and has some observations.

Basically an AU where Bilbo is a skinchanger and the Company meet him at Beorn's on accident.

It Runs In The Family by Imagined

At first, Bilbo is very glad to hear of the new alliance between Erebor and the Shire. He is even more excited when he learns that some of his family members are coming to the Lonely Mountain to discuss the details.

That is, until the dwarves (and Thorin, who is decidedly not and never shall be his) start getting along a little too well with one of his more adventurous cousins, and Bilbo starts doubting about his place.

[kjmsupremacist]

Felix sweet boy baby angel but Christopher Bang is literally Satan? Idk if you saw but Hyunjin ratted him out on live and said the lyrics for Red Light were toned down. I don’t want to know. I don’t. He was already talking about edging and I don’t want to know. He can keep his Scorpio Venus and his Sag Mars away from me and everyone I love. I would give anything to know his rising if sign. It’s giving Earth but there’s so much air in his chart it’s hard to be sure. 🤖

i am so happy you sent me this ask because i have been looking for an excuse to talk about red lights. I sent leon and margot a seven minute long voice message when i was doing my research for my red lights-inspired fic like that's where i'm at.

First, yes, I saw Hyunjin's comments! that's what chris gets for trying to say hyunjin wrote all the lyrics in the first place. nice try, chris. also, his scorpio venus is SEXY. i won't be taking criticism on this opinion.

Now. Please see under the cut if you want to watch me dissect Red Lights -- both the lyrics and the MV.

so, credit where credit's due--I skimmed this and this reddit posts while I was doing my research.

now. we all know that on the surface, this song is about sex (and specifically bondage and edging—that much is clear). but, ah, how's the saying go? "everything is about sex except for sex, which is about power"? sure.

yeah, it's meant to be sexy. they did that for us and im still not sure if I want to kill them for it or thank them with my life. BUT, as they mentioned in the howl in harmony video, it's primarily a song about obsession.

The first reddit post does a great (albeit kind of aggressive) breakdown of the lyrics, where it becomes really clear that they're talking about the relationship they have with their work and the relationship they have with fans. In essence, the song is about how they want to give their lives and all their time to making more content for fans so that they will continue to receive love from us. The red lights are actually the recording light on a camera (hence the line “set the mic up”).

And so a relationship like the one depicted here is dark and intense, and yes—passionate and driven by love—but ultimately, it consumes itself in the vortex of its own desire, and then peters out into a sort of blank monotony—learned through repetition, a habitual reflex instead of a true reaction.

Then, the second reddit post goes on a deep dive of some of the symbolism seen in the MV—specifically, the use of kink. This is where it gets really fun.

We mostly see Hyunjin in shibari-style bondage. OP posits (and I agree) that he is meant to represent passion without discipline. The shibari ropes are tied messily (and so therefore dangerously) which is perfect for representing how often kink (and other obsessions) can devolve—you plunge in headfirst, but you are directionless except for the insistent tug in your gut that cries for more, more.

Chan, on the other hand, is seen primarily (esp in solo scenes) bound by heavy chains. He represents discipline with no passion. In the Howl in Harmony video, I believe he mentions that after a long day of practice, he'll still find himself in the recording studio, even though he's tired. He does what he has to on autopilot, because he knows he must, because it’s the only thing he feels he can do.

If Hyunjin is mania, then Chan is depression. The chains are GREAT symbolism because this dutiful march towards burnout and beyond is, as the lyrics suggest, stemming from a desire to keep receiving love (from fans)—that if you just work hard enough then no one will ever leave you. You wish to bind the person (or people) you love to you, but in the end the bonds only weigh you down.

So then the part where they’re tied together, back to back, at the end, shows when passion and discipline come into balance. And that’s creation for the love of creation while still maintaining a respect for yourself, the art, and your audience. (or idk. maybe they just thought we'd like to see them tied to one another. and they were right).

It's also fun because while we see Hyunjin and Chan both assume positions of domination and submission, it's clear Chan is meant to be the “dominant force” here (hence discipline). The reason we do see instances of Hyunjin in power (choking Chan, standing over him on the table) is because any somewhat healthy d/s relationship involves first the surrender of power. The dom is only perceived to be in power because the sub first relinquishes it them. So. You know.

I will say I'm not sure what to say about the edging theme (BNKSJDF) besides the obvious—almost giving you what you want, but not quite.

And finally, this is not part of either of those two reddit posts, but I was ENTHRALLED by the use of mirror and mirror-esque imagery throughout the MV and in the choreo. I love mirrors as a symbol so we're going to talk about that, too.

First and most obviously, it may be a bit on the nose. In art, mirrors and reflections are often used to show that there is a deeper meaning than what is clear on the surface. So this might have just been hyunchan going "hey! it's not just about sex!"

but I think there's more to it than that. Mirrors are often used as a vessel of truth—in some Chinese myths, for example, mirrors can repel demons, as they will show a demon’s true form. Or see the Little Mermaid—though Ursula managed to change her outward appearance, she was caught in her lie when another character (sebastian, i think?) saw her reflection in the mirror.

Additionally, one’s reflection used to be thought to contain one’s soul—which is why mirrors were covered in the home of person who had just passed, so they would not be trapped as a ghost in the world of the living.

For this reason, mirrors are often also considered dangerous. Think of Narcissus, for a start, who fell in love with his own reflection and sat at the water's edge, pining, until he fucking died. Or consider the following quote (which I love) from Fernando Pessoa:

“Man shouldn’t be able to see his own face – there’s nothing more sinister. Nature gave him the gift of not being able to see it, and of not being able to stare into his own eyes. Only in the water of rivers and ponds could he look at his face. And the very posture he had to assume was symbolic. He had to bend over, stoop down, to commit the ignominy of beholding himself. The inventor of the mirror poisoned the human heart.”

We use mirrors to watch ourselves watching ourselves (and the Margaret Atwood who lives in our heads cries “male fantasies, male fantasies! You are you own voyeur!”). We perform for the mirror—often what we see in the mirror is not actually how we are seen by others! We think we may find truth there, when in reality it is a distortion. Ties itself up really nicely, I think.

In any case, this really goes well with the theme of obsession in the song—staring in the mirror asking, what do others see? What is wrong about me? What can I do better? The idea of looking in the mirror to seek what others see, both positive and negative, is common throughout. And I think their use of mirrored choreo (esp when it seems like one of them is the reflection!!), as well as mirror placement on the set of the mv, and ESPECIALLY the lovely bit at the end where they both stand staring carefully at their own reflections, all work to drive that theme home.

and i don't even know how to touch on all the color symbolism (when it changes between color and b&w?? the palette being overwhelmingly yellow and red and black???), or the lens filters (warping, blurring, etc), or the way they superimposed pieces of the video on top of other pieces, or the use of that one stark white background—without writing a fucking dissertation (and this is already a ridiculously long post) so i'll just stop here.

This is all to say, maybe what they meant was that the lyrics were a lot more aggressive about these themes and they were asked to tone them down to keep it neutral.

or maybe they're just sexy, sexy motherfuckers and their managers bonked them on the head and sent them to horny jail.

[punkiesocialonline]

WWE College AU Chapter 1

Summary: Annalise Ruiz (My Oc) is a college sophomore with a group project due soon. The only problem is who her group partners are. The Mayhem they cause and the trouble they get her into is maddening, but Annalise is down for whatever as long as her crew is with her.

Oh, great. A group project. On top of all the homework.

Ignoring for the moment the “juicy” gossip her tablemate was telling the girl behind them, Annalise looked up to the board.The list of both familiar and unfamiliar names continued on and on until she found hers. Her group consisted of herself, obviously, and three male students, only two of which she had known. One being her long time friend and class clown Samuel Zayn, who refuses to answer to anything other than Sami. The other was his trouble maker best friend Kevin Owens. Kevin caught Annalise’s eye from his seat in the corner of the room and waved, his smirk letting her know he had no intention of helping on this project. With an annoyed eye roll, Annalise looked back at the board. The last name assigned to her group was Roman Reigns. Annalise had no idea who Roman was, but her tablemate, a petite blonde with pink highlights named Alexa, certainly did. 

“Oh my goodness, Anna! You got Roman “Hot As Sugarballs” Reigns in your group!”

Annalise’s confused look gave away her lack of knowledge of Mr.”Hot As Sugarballs”. Alexa gasped in surprise and turned back to her gossip buddy behind her.

“Sasha! She doesn’t know who Roman Reigns is!”

Sasha, the darling girl with beautiful, brown skin and dark eyes looked unamused. She tossed her blue dyed hair behind her shoulder and shook her head at Alexa. 

“Not everyone is as obsessed with Reigns like you are, Bliss.”

“I’m not obsessed!” Alexa protested. “He’s just, so hot.”

Before the conversation could go any further, the bell rang and Annalise sighed in relief.

“Saved by the bell,” she thought as she grabbed her books and started to walk to the door. 

“Hey! Annalise, wait up!” 

“Spoke too soon,” she told herself as she turned around and was met with two of her partners. 

Both Canadians smiled down on their shorter classmate. Kevin leaned against the desk he stood next to while his red-headed counterpart jumped with excitement. Both had a piece of paper in their hands.

“We were thinking of some ideas for the project,” Kevin said bordly. 

“We made lists!” Sami said, happily shoving his piece of paper into her hand.

“List of Jericho?” Annalise joked, referring to Kevin’s former friend Chris Jericho.

Chris was an upperclassman who used to write lists of people who annoyed him. Annalise got herself on a list by telling him how truely annoying he was.

“There’s a big difference,” Kevin explained. “These lists were written by two actually intelligent people.”

Annalise chuckled and skimmed through Sami’s list, taking note of a few really good ideas she liked. She nodded and gave the list back then outstretched her hand for Kevin’s. With the same sly smile as before, Kevin handed her his list.

Annalise noticed almost instantly that the paper was mostly blank. Only one bullet point was written at the top of the page;

Let Sami come up with all the ideas 

“Wow,” she said sarcastically as she handed the paper back. “These are great and all but apparently we have one more person in our group.”

Both boy’s eyes lit up. Kevin’s smirk grew and Sami’s jumping intensified. Annalise furrowed her brows at their reactions. 

“Yeah, the big dog,” Kevin said, standing up straight and leading Annalise out of the classroom with Sami following them. 

Her confused look returned to her face. She quickly tried to go through her memory and put a face to the name. She allowed herself to be led throughout the halls as she did so. 

“You really don’t know who he is? He’s pretty hard to miss,” Sami remarked after she had visibly given up.

She threw him a wild glance and raised an eyebrow. 

“Don’t we have the same math class Sami? I tend to miss a lot,” the girl responded as she continued to walk. 

She really didn’t care where they were going. She knew most of the school like the back of her hand and their last class was her final class of the day, so rather than going back to her dorm alone, an adventure with the two reasons their last science teacher quit was more than welcomed. Annalise also wanted to know more about this mystery man everyone else seemed to know. 

“Well, you know Seth, right?” Kevin asked as he made the latina turn a corner. 

Her two toned friend came to her mind instantly. She went to highschool with him and witnessed his glow up first hand. She loved the guy, but what did he have to do with Roman Reigns?

“Rollins? Yeah, I know him.”

Kevin had her turn another corner into a hall she had no idea even existed. She didn’t have time to ask where they were going before he responded.

“Roman is his older brother.”

Annalise’s mouth dropped open. She tried to think back to highschool, certain that Seth had introduced her to an older brother, but the name that came to mind was not Roman.

“I thought his older brother was Ambrose. You know, Dean Ambrose?” 

The mention of the upperclassman made Sami shudder. Dean was an even bigger trouble maker than Kevin, and Sami knew all too well what it is like to get into a confrontation with him. Dean was the king of detention back in highschool and Annalise was pretty sure she'd seen the lunatic hanging out by the dorms more times than she could count, but she had no classes with him and never saw him in the halls. And surely no one was dumb enough to get the name  “Dean Ambrose” confused with “Roman Reigns”. 

“Yeah, that’s ONE of his older brothers, but he got another, Roman,” Sami explained as he fixed his hat.

“Everyone calls him the big dog,” KEvin added, coming to a stop at an opened locker.

With a nod, Annalise stopped with him. She looked around and noticed a few upperclassmen she recognized. Randall Orton, Natalya Hart, Drew Mcintyre, Lacey Evans, even Alan Jones Styles. Some waved at Annalise and glared at her companions, others did the opposite. And while she did enjoy seeing them all and exploring this new hallway, Annalise saw no reason for her friends and herself to be there. 

“Why did you take me here?” She asked, leaning against the lockers.

Kevin smirked once again and glanced at the locker. 

“To see our other porr assignment sucker,” he said as he slammed the opened locker shut.

Before even a breath could be taken, Kevin was pushed into the locker. Sami and Annalise jumped back and looked up at the mountain of a man that was responsible. He was much taller than the three sophomores, with long, black hair tied into a bun and grey eyes. Part of Annalise wondered if he was wearing contacts, another part was wondering how high she would have to jumped to slap him for pushing her associate into the locker. 

“Hey, ride or die. Even for these fools,” she thought. 

As she took a step towards the male, Kevin spoke.

“Woah, woah, woah, big dog, chill” 

With wide eyes, Annalise realized that THIS was Roman Reigns. For once she could agree with Alexa, he was hot.

And she did recognize him. She remembered seeing him picking up Seth and Dean back in highschool. She also remembered seeing him sitting in his car, watching carefully as Dean pushed her into a bush while she was walking with Seth. She even remembered seeing him standing off to the side as Dean tried to awkwardly apologize the next day. How come she never noticed him here? 

“Because you’ve been too focused on school,” She thought. “And….other stuff.”

She was pulled back into reality when a deep, deep voice rattled her chest. It took her about five seconds to realize it was Roman talking. 

“What do you want, Owens?”

Annalise’s dazzlement soon turned back into anger as he pushed Kevin once again before he could answer.

“You’re our partner in a project,” Annalise nearly growled. “You would’ve known that if you had the common sense to show to class.”

The samoan’s cold gaze went from Kevin down to the small latina and the hint of amusement in them filled Annalise with more rage. 

“I know you,”he stated, studying her.

She felt his eyes look over her green dyed hair. She felt his eyes bounce from her pierced eyebrow to her pierced nose. His gray eyes stared into her brown ones, then those very eyes skimmed over her appearance. Annalise felt her face heat up as she got angrier. 

“Oh?” She said, trying to keep her composure. “Well, considering that I just found out who you are two seconds ago, I can officially say where you stand on the popularity chart.”

The tall man’s eyes lost all amusement in them. Kevin noticed and stood up straight, ready for a fight. Behind Annalise, Sami glared at Roman, trying, and failing, to intimidate the bigger man. 

Then Roman started to laugh. If Annalise thought his voice rattled her, she was not prepared for his laugh. 

“You’re gonna be fun,” Roman said between breaths. “A project, huh? Alright then, you three can come by my dorm around, let's say five?” 

The Canadians looked between themselves and their female partner. Satisfied, all three nodded.

“Alright, your dorm at five,” Annalise mumbled, keeping a wary eye on him.

His demeter changed in a blink of an eye. He no longer looked so big and bad. His smile lit up the hall as he playfully punched Kevin in the arm. A playful punch Kevin returned.

“Wait,” Sami interrupted after a moment of deep thinking. “Are your brothers going to be there?”

Roman shrugged. “Seth is my roommate, so he’ll probably be there. “ He glanced at Annalise as he said that. 

Annalise knew he saw her smile at the mention of his puppy-like brother, but she hoped he thought nothing of it. Don’t need that rumor going around.

“And the other one?” Sami tried to ask casually. 

Almost everyone knew about Sami’s confrontation with Dean. During an argument out in the courtyard, Dean brought Sami’s sexuality confusion into the mix. Now there was a rumor going around that Dean felt sorry and didn’t actually mean to bring up such a touchy subject, but Sami didn’t believe it. He told anyone that believed otherwise that Dean could never keep the truth from his eyes. When he started calling Sami out, in front of multiple classmates no less, his crazy eyes told Sami that he meant and believed every word. Dean’s crazy eyes turned into black eyes by the time their confrontation was over. Sami, on the other hand, had a broken nose, a busted lip, and a bruised pride.

Roman’s gaze softened at Sami’s nervous-like behavior. He was there when the argument went down, he was the one who pulled Dean off of him. Roman had felt guilty for not telling Dean to stop once he got to dangerous waters, but Dean was his little brother. He was taught to stand behind his family, no matter the choices they make. Even if they are really dumb ones. 

“Dean is….unpredictable. He may be there, he may not. If he is, I swear he’ll be on his best behavior,” Roman assured him. “And Samuel, Dean really didn’t mean to offend you, he was losing an argument and took a low blow.”

Annalise and Kevin looked at each other at Sami. The ginger was staring off down the hallway, trying to stay calm and act cool. He finally looked up at Roman after a moment of silence.

“It’s Sami.”

Roman seemed to understand that the smaller man was not trying to hear him defend his brother’s actions. The samoan simply just nodded and checked his watch.

“I have to go, see you three at five,” he stated, glancing up from his watch.

“Yeah, see ya,” Sami mumbled, already walking off. 

Annalise and Kevin followed silently, leaving Roman Reigns behind them.

“Well that was...interesting,” Annalise said, falling into step with Sami on his left side.

“Yeah,” Kevin agreed, walking on Sami’s right. “You okay, Sami?”

Sami took a deep breath and nodded. The further they walked, the clearer his eyes became.

“Yeah,yeah, I’m fine.” He said. “I think I’m going to skip my next class though.”

Kevin wrapped his arm around Sami’s shoulder. Annalise intertwined her fingers with Sami’s. Sami glanced at both of them and smiled.

“Well,” Kevin said, flicking Sami’s ear. “If you’re skipping class, so am I.”

With a chuckle, Annalise nodded. 

“I’m already finished with my classes for the day, wanna head to my dorm and get beat in some video games?” 

Both boy’s smiles grew. Ignoring the look some classmates like Bobby Lashely and Daniel Bryan threw their way, the three of them walked to the doors.

“You’re on, grasshead!” Kevin exclaimed, making Sami laugh. 

And while they walked out, Kevin discreetly flicked off the students who dared to look at him and his friends funny.

Bobby and Daniel certainly got the message.

[thetypedwriter]

The Ruin of Kings Book Review

The Ruin of Kings Book Review by Jenn Lyons

Boy, oh, boy, was this a wild ride. 

Those of you who have been following me for a while know that I occasionally delve into adult fiction here and there. I mainly stick to my vegetarian course of YA novels, but every once in a while I can’t help but  pick up a slice of bacon, or in this case, an adult fiction book.

Or, even more specifically, I suppose it would be more accurate to say that it’s adult fantasy instead of fiction. High fantasy at that, which is characterized by a whole new world with fantastical elements and not just a novel in the known primary world with fantasy elements.

With that literary lesson out of the way, let me get started. 

The Ruin of Kings by Jenn Lyons came recommended by one of my favorite book bloggers, Paperfury. She counted this as one of her most recent book obsessions she couldn’t stop thinking about and in general I trust her judgement (although she was way way off on The Queen of Nothing, yikes). 

This massive installment is definitely not the short and sweet page length I’m used to with YA, and neither does it have the comforting and large font that makes me feel like an accomplished reader after just an hour of skimming. 

No, this installment is large and beefy and could probably give someone a concussion if you threw it at them, so just keep that in mind. 

The whole fantasy revolves around a boy named Khirin. Khirin is your typical fantasy hero, equipped with the luscious blonde hair and the sparkling blue eyes and most importantly, the wickedly sharp tongue reminiscent of a male character from the Cassandra Clare universe.

He’s sharp, he’s witty, he’s charming, and he also has terrible, terrible luck. 

Or does he?

When you first meet Khirin he is being sold as a slave to the highest bidder. He’s cold, he’s injured, he’s starving, and he’s broken. You, as a reader at this point, are completely and irrevocably confused. 

You’re thinking: Who is this boy? What is happening to him? Why are people betting so much money for him? What’s with this necklace around his neck? Where did he come from? Where are we? What world is this? Where is he going? What the hell is going on???

To say that Lyons starts out strong would be underhanded hyperbole. You are forcibly drop-kicked into the fantasy world of Qurr and its many raging empires and states, and putting them all together is frankly daunting and largely impossible until a good chunk of the book is devoured. 

Frankly, I still have trouble figuring out all the locations and gods and god-kings and factions and lore and people and how they’re all related, Game of Thrones style. But that’s part of the fun. 

One of my biggest complaints with YA is that the reader is generally treated like they’re pretty stupid. 

Often a YA author feels the need to explain every single iteration and modicum of interaction between their characters or spend too much time describing things, and it leaves very little for interpretation or inference on the side of the reader. Lyons is almost the complete opposite, which is as refreshing as it is frustrating.

As you are introduced to Khirin and this gargantuan universe that Lyons has created, you will feel stupid. To be fair, I enjoyed it most of the time. I relished the challenge of learning to differentiate all the different families of the Court of Gems, of distinguishing the Goddess Thaena from the Goddess Tya.

I liked when I was finally able to smugly look at the map at the beginning and recognize all of the city states like Doltar or Kirpis or Manol. I liked when I understood the different races like the Thriss or the vané and the implications of what that meant. 

If that was a whole load of word vomit for you, that’s okay. 

Again, it’s part of the fun. 

What I do want you to get out of this, however, is the knowledge that Lyons has created an expansive universe with multiple creatures, including dragons and witches, rivaling royal families, gods reminiscent of the Greek Gods and their interference with human affairs, a rivaling world split with so many seams that you’re not even sure who to root for, an emperor, magical jewelry, demons and even a dose of piracy and musical competition. 

This book honestly has a little of everything — which, to be fair, it should, considering how damn long it takes to get through it’s never-ending pages. 

To make this as simplified as possible, the plot goes like this:

Khirin is sold into slavery and finds himself in the hands of a group called the Black Brotherhood. Over time, Khirin learns about this group and their intentions, learns more about himself and the Stone of Shackles (the necklace he wears around his neck), divulges his past and how he got sold into slavery in the first place-his upbringing, his musical talent, his stay at the Blue Palace, his eventual betrayal at the hands of someone he loves. 

You learn over the course of each chapter what brought Khirin to his current fate and more of what he is trying to do now,: which is to return home and save the world from the likes of the two main antagonists (although not all of them by any means), Gadrith and Darzin.

I’m not exaggerating when I say that is the most bare- bones summary I have ever written. But honestly, this book is about a hero named Khirin and his adventure to rid the world of evil as he learns about himself and his past. 

Like many, many, other books before it, this book explores what it means to be a hero, what it means to be a god, what it means to be involved with the fight of good vs. evil. This book is not special in that sense regarding these themes. 

However, there are some really cool aspects of this novel that I thoroughly enjoyed that I’ll relay now that the summary (as condensed as it is, sorry) is out of the way. 

The two things I enjoyed most about this book were the writing itself and the POV. Most high fantasy novels that I’ve attempted to read have this ridiculous notion that every character must speak in some dead medieval language rife with historical inaccuracies and banal, clipped speech. Lyons does nothing of the sort.

 Her characters are creative and crass and downright funny. The dialogue is immersive and natural and oftentimes, other than the backdrop of a dragon or lizard-people, it felt like two modern-day people were having a conversation, which I greatly appreciated. 

Lyons is also a very big fan of building up her writing and then smacking you down at the pinnacle. For example:

“Before us lay the Mother of Trees.

I didn’t understand what I was seeing. I couldn’t comprehend. It just seemed like a humongous wall at first, one that had been built up with palaces and verandas, graceful pavilions, and stained-glass windows glittering like jewels. Only when I looked up could I perceive the sweep of branches, the distance velvet of green leaves. This was a tree to hold up the whole world, the sort of place where Galava must live, if any place were consecrated to her. It seemed ageless and immortal, a tree that had always and would always exist. 

Naturally, we were setting it on fire.”

I personally found this style of writing hilarious. Lyons often built up the tension, beauty, or conflict, and then would deliver these one-liners that would leave me gasping with laughter. This creative juxtaposition was super enjoyable and one that made the book a big success for me. 

Secondly, while this book is told almost entirely (keyword almost -there are some outlier chapters) from Khirin’s perspective, it technically oscillates between present Khirin and past Khirin. 

The whole book switches from one timeline to another every other chapter, with the chapter starting with Khirin being sold into slavery being the “present” and told from Khirin’s first-person POV and then switching the next chapter to his “past” and being told from Khirin’s third-person POV. 

I loved this. I thought this was so creative, and up to this point, I have never seen this done in another book. The subtle shift from first to third person every chapter, but still from the perspective of the same character, was so interesting and complex. 

I loved that we were simultaneously getting current-day Khirin, but also Khirin from two years ago telling us the events that led up to the present. It was imaginative and intriguing, and I loved trying to fill in the holes before the book presented me with it (which even then was difficult). 

In addition, throughout the whole book are also footnotes from another crucial character that offer information, clarification, and also humor. While I’ve primarily read footnotes in academic papers to cite sources or offer commentary, these footnotes were just as fictional as the rest of the story, but offered insight outside of Khirin that was often dripping in sarcasm, irony, or humor.

 I thought it was another really creative way for Lyons to get across information without boring everyone half to death or releasing a 100- page guidebook to help you along. 

Bottom line, people,: This book isn’t for everyone. High fantasy in general is not for everyone. That’s okay. It’s not usually my taste either, at least not the adult fictional kind, but something about this book really intrigued me. 

Moreso than the actual plot, which is confusing, I enjoyed the writing, the suspense, and the act of playing detective. It’s been so long since I’ve read a book that’s made me think this hard, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. That being said, the same praise is a double-edged sword. 

If you don’t want to have to think and draw out charts and make graphs on Excel, then perhaps this is not the book for you. 

If you don’t like high fantasy or made-up worlds, or very interconnected family dynamics, then this is not the book for you. This book also contains elements that can be triggering to some, like rape, drugs, character death, violence, imprisonment, slavery, etc.

When I say this book has everything, I mean it has everything. And that can be good or bad depending on the person. For me, I liked it. However, I did get frustrated at certain points at the lack of clarification more than once, just for full disclosure. 

Recommendation: If you’ve been bereft ever since the Game of Thrones disaster-of-a-finale, then you are not alone. The Ruin of Kings has everything you’ve ever wanted in a high fantasy book: action, kings, queens, palaces, war, dragons, magic and so much more. 

This book was creative and funny and complex, and if you’re willing to sink your teeth and time into a universe that demands attention then you’ll find yourself rewarded with a brand-new world to fall in love with and characters that you can’t seem to forget.

Score: 8/10

[tyonfs]

hiii love!! i hope you’re doing great,, i am sorry for taking so long in replying, i was the cusp who asked for your help, remember? 🤪🤪 i’ll post the image of the site you told me about, i think it’s not the chart you’re looking for though but i hope i screenshot-ed the right one 😔 i’ll tag you,,, thank you for your help though !! 💗💗

hello there !! 🥺 omg no need to apologize at all and yes you got the right chart !! <33 sorry if this gets too long but you can just skim over for your understanding on what your chart means! feel free to ask any other questions you have too!

again, i’m no expert and this is definitely not a full, detailed analysis and rather just information i’ve researched from costar and the internet, but it should be useful to an extent since you wanted to know what your chart meant. astrology is so in-depth so i hope this at least scratches this surface !!

☼ 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐒 ♉︎

your sun sign is your core sign—basically your personality. it’s one of the most important pillars of your chart like how you think and feel and behave altogether. it determines your ego, identity, and "role" in life. sometimes people might not relate to their sun sign a lot because other signs, ruled by other planets, have a much bigger impact on their lives. yours is taurus, meaning you’re dependable and hard working. some taurus’ actively seek wealth while others settle for comfort, although the ones who seek comfort may come off as lazy at times. you are rarely jealous and petty, but you do (for a sense of security) like to think of the ones you love as yours.

↑ 𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 ♐︎

your ascendency (rising) sign is your dominant personality (the “mask” you show to people). it can be seen in your personal style and how you come off to people when you first meet. it can also become less relevant with time or experience. your ascendency is sagittarius, meaning you’re somewhat restless, and you have opinions on everything and love telling exactly what they are. you also tend to keep up a sense of humor and manage to find fun even when you’re feeling low.

☾ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐎 ♍︎

your moon sign represents your emotional world, your inner self. it rules your emotions, moods, and feelings. your moon is in virgo meaning you’re very meticulous about routine and structure, and you can be thrown off if something doesn’t go as planned. you are also likely to feel awkward and uncomfortable in chaotic environments, but you have a keen eye for detail.

♈︎ 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

your mercury sign determines how you communicate, learn, talk, think, and process information. mercury in aries tend to not be patient enough to think things over so they’re often quick decision makers. they are pretty blunt and straightforward in communicating. when learning, they like to streamline their curriculum and dismiss unnecessary information. the charm with mercury in aries people is that you can count on them to be honest with you.

♉︎ 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐒

your venus sign determines how and what you love. it indicates how you express affection and the qualities you're attracted to. your venus is in taurus so your needs for love are determined by what pleases your senses. taurus signs value sensuality, stability, and satisfaction. a lot of taurus signs also love to be physical. you take relationships seriously and in a practical manner, not romantic in a frilly and dreamy way. you offer your loved ones a lot of comfort in your stability.

♒︎ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒

mars is the planet of aggression. it determines how you assert yourself, take action, and the energy that surrounds you—particularly in your sex life, your ambitiousness, and when you're angry. your mars is in aquarius so people find it a little difficult to understand what exactly makes you tick. you’re progressive, open-minded, and don’t allow others to push you around easily. when you feel boxed in, you’re more likely to rebel. when you think people have figured you out, you’ll change your pattern so you’re not as predictable the next time. you’re very adept on getting what you want but not in an aggressive way. you’re also very willing to let others be and give them space.

♎︎ 𝐉𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀

jupiter is one of the two social planets. your jupiter sign is very philosophical and rules idealism, optimism, and expansion. your jupiter in libra shows that you attract the most good fortune when you’re fair-minded, gracious, equal, and are able to bend to others without being treated as a doormat. you’re mentally adventurous and quite impartial and open-minded. you’re able to see multiple sides to an argument.

♋︎ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑

saturn is the other social planet, ruling responsibilities, fears, restrictions, boundaries, limits, and self-discipline. your saturn is in cancer so oftentimes, you may feel like you’re on your own when it comes to sustaining your home or family, or getting the care and comfort you need. you might feel resentment to be viewed as the caregiver, but this is in conflict when you feeling uncomfortable when you’re being taken care of. although, you’re more uncomfortable with the feeling of being vulnerable and exposed. you hate feeling dependent or needy and try to convince yourself that you don’t need support or intimacy. you are very cautious and safety is the most important to you so you work hard for your security, home, and family.

♓︎ 𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐒

uranus stays in each sign for seven years, meaning it rules a generation more than a person. it rules innovation, rebellion, and progress. your uranus is in pisces so you’re interested in making changes, innovating, and seeking freedom. you don’t feel the need to conform to rules and are ready to rebel if you feel like it. you are highly intuitive but you can also be somewhat stubborn.

♒︎ 𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒

neptune is similar to uranus except that it stays for fourteen years. it rules dreams, imagination, and the unconscious. your is in aquarius, meaning your entire generation finds inspiration through detached analysis and intellectual pursuits. your neptune is in aquarius so your vision of an ideal world comes from individuality, freedom, and impartibility. what’s important to you is for each person to stand out as a unique individual. you’re also more idealistic and theoretical than others.

♐︎ 𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒

pluto is also similar to neptune and uranus except that it stays for thirty years. it rules power, intensity, obsession, and control. it also rules over your success, your motivation, and how you handle responsibility. yours is in sagittarius, meaning your generation's psyche is comparatively positive, free-spirited, curious, optimistic, forward-looking, independent, and confident. you know there is more to life than tradition and you seek to bring potential and creativity.

♍︎ 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐎

your midheaven represents your public life, standing, and career goals. it describes our purpose in life and what we can bring to society. your midheaven is in virgo, meaning you know how to describe and analyze yourself and the world in detail. you have a naturally critical attitude but be careful because when it’s not balanced, it can come off as manipulative or petty. your weakness lies in overanalyzing and looking too deeply into things. you do, however, have the courage to look deep within you and use what you’ve learned as a guide.

[everydayanth]

Let’s talk about talking about politics! Yay! Everyone’s favorite!

Over the past few weeks/months/years, I have had this strange insider seat to a bunch of criminal justice/poly sci professionals (as in, they get paid as professors or scientists or compliance officers, etc.) as they talk about politics and get angry at the general public for our lack of understanding, without having the patience to teach or explain. 

Two problems: 1. the ivory tower issue of watching and not actively engaging in the social part of social science, but as their friend, I will note much of this comes from burnout through negative engagement and attacks; 2. expecting others to have had an adequate education to even know many of these tools exist in order to discuss things beyond our average public school education that cuts out Fridays and makes random half days because we can’t afford teachers or textbooks. 

As an awkward observer, here are some things I never talked about in school, despite having a better political/civil/economics education included in my curriculum than many of my friends:

1. When we vote for someone, we are voting on a trend in politics. Not as a result, but a direction to move, and most voters vote for the candidate who is closest to their current values already, rather than following the trend of voting for who would move policy to match their needs. 

2. Our values change far more than we think they do and they almost always align with a problem we require a solution to or a fear we would like to stabilize or go away, such as property taxes. Because we need to trust the person to solve our problems, especially if we are projecting large fears, candidates who are most likable. We don’t like to stir the pot, we just want it to go where we want, fighting for something is exhausting for everyone.

3. We consider political agendas to be moral agendas but do not agree on obligations. Many feel powerless, others are powerless, we talk about responsibility, but without acknowledging those first two things, it sounds more like blame. We also imagine many things to be wishful thinking that are enacted successfully elsewhere and fail to understand or use logical reasoning to really discuss issues. Anything will be an experiment because the US is so huge, but it is a scalable experiment working in other places, often we don’t understand that until we’re abroad and sick.

4. We’re not sure how to translate policy, and our country was built by and for lawyers. There are very little areas where we agree as a society on black/white right/wrong, and in many ways that’s good, but when it comes to discussing policy, it can be very confusing.

To account for these aspects, people use charts and grids. Much like personality tests, these are useful for creating a foundation upon which to debate and discuss, but are ultimately made by humans in order to generalize and will have errors and discrepancies. But the political spectrum has rarely been the single line most of us were taught. Instead, it is often a grid used to navigate the direction and preference of trends. Most people are much more moderate than they think, but have problems that need cooperative solutions, like the water crisis and fires on the west coast, disaster relief in the south, crop failure in the midwest, and ticks and diseases in the northeast. We all have huge problems and some areas are insulated from them for now, but they will come. How we navigate and demand solutions for those problems is what creates policy and the policies we agree with because of our value is what dictates our vote. 

So here’s some charts that human people made to talk about these things with and they have helped ground a lot of engaging conversations with people as I watch them argue but not get angry, because there’s a visual thing to talk around. Those kinds of tools should be everywhere. 

The political compass:

via Wikipedia: political spectrum

^

^A generalization of what different areas might look like. I’ve seen so many versions of this, but I liked the way this one because it gave me a better understanding of words I’m more familiar with and where they fall within the broad concepts. I couldn’t find the source. 

^ Here is another one from Google that took me to a shady site, so I didn’t link it, but the goal is to just be familiar with the different ways people structuralize and use definitions and terms to divide them up, in the end, the general understanding is all that matters, and our goal is to be functional, for the government to be usable by the people. Hamilton, the musical, was/is so important for many reasons, but one of the big ones is that it reminded us that this fight of trends and moving around the board has been going on since the very first election of a president to America. It’s always about one group pulling another, creating a tug-of-war that keeps us near the middle, hopefully.

This is a graph showing the individual party ideologies of past presidents by a site called Fact Myth. It is showing the party split between individuals and while we could argue and speculate about accuracies and meanings, whether a president was pushed to make a decision as a person, etc. in the end, they represent the will of the people and the trends we with to follow to solve problems at the time. 

^An outline someone made of 2020 candidates on Reddit that has been going around for a while. Jake showed this to me and while he was perfectly receptive to me saying that yeah, but a person made this and they can have agendas and just put people places, he also had some really great points on how Americans often think we’re moderates, but what we perceive to be in the middle is often skewed by capitalism. That’s not to say it’s bad, simply that if we’re talking trends and problems and solutions, we have to understand where we are on the real scale, not just our own. We will also tend to vote for those who are closest to us, rather than moving in the direction of us, so, say someone sits right where Ryan is, Ryan drops out; now, despite their personal political preference being on the edge of the middle moderate square, they move to Biden rather than Warren or Sanders because Biden is closer to their original place, even if, coming from Trump, moving to Warren/Sanders would pull the political trend back toward their moderate preference. 

Not everyone does this, obviously, but I’m fascinated by how our individual personalities affect how we decide politics. Are you a “next best thing” kind of person? Are you a “obsess relentlessly until it’s done” kind of person? Are you a “don’t fix it if it ain’t broke? Or what about “out of sight out of mind, doesn’t bother me, I don’t care” kind of person? So many of the ways we solve our daily problems are reflected in the ways we move our own political affiliations during voting times. I just think that’s interesting because I’m a social science nerd though. 

A friend from Brown who is much older than us (also a social science nerd <3) pointed out that she grew up with such antagonizing propaganda during the cold war and beginnings of technological boom and peak oil, and it all said the same thing, anything outside the blue is morally wrong and heavily corrupt. I thought that was an interesting point about exposure and remembering past problems, how voting ages overlap to find new solutions or rely on old ones, and what it would cost us to see American politics on a global scale. 

^This is a global scale of values (not politics) from the wikipedia page on political spectrums, and I thought it tied into the conversation in interesting ways, especially when we look at American generation differences in individualism and social cooperation and how they are viewed by each other to both be equally negative. There’s a whole world of solutions and different ways things our done, but we’ve been taught from birth that some are bad and others are exceptions and ours is good. 

Vox has an interesting tool to figure out where abouts you would lie on the compass. I think debating it with others is a better way, since it’s a primarily relative scale (unless you prefer those structuralist ones, but keep in mind that it’s a preference, not a requirement). But I thought I’d include it for those who may not have access to that kind of conversation. 

In the end, consider your morals and how they are different from your current values, and how your current values are affected by your current problems, and how you want the world to look, how you want trends to move, and how your biases of experience or ignorance might play a role in that. I honestly didn’t really think about healthcare until I was in Ireland and saw how simple an alternative was and how freeing it felt. My parents can’t even imagine it (and they are of the class who should most desire those changes), they don’t have enough of a base knowledge to understand how it works, it’s electricity after gaslamps. 

Anyway, just thought I’d share some of those tools. As a skeptical person, I want to remind everyone that these are tools, not documented facts, and fighting about where people are on the graph and where we might be is part of how we come to conclusions about rights and wants and solutions and needs and what we actually value. Most of us, in the end, value comfort and hope, and we vote for the people we think provide that to us. The problem often lies in people misunderstanding their own comfort and relying on ignorance rather than hope. I found these graphs useful in grounding my talks with overwhelming professionals and finding some semblance of peace in what I wanted to hope for and I hope maybe for some of you they can provide that as well. ❤️

If, like me, you reached your 20s and realized a gaping hole in your education, I also recommend the Crash Course series on US Politics. It helped me understand a lot of things that were skimmed over in textbooks or left as multiple choice answers on a standardized test. Politics are a series of solutions to the problems we face as a social group, and knowing how to talk about them completely changed my own feelings of helplessness when communicating to others. 

[commander-rahrah]

RESIDENCY (AN OPEN HEART FIC): PART THIRTEEN

Pairing: MC (Jordynne Holland) X Ethan Ramsey X Bryce Lahela; MC X Bryce; MC X Ethan

Masterlist: Click Here

Chapter Rating: T (Swearing, Romantic Tension) 

Word Count: 4900+ 

Description: Ethan takes care of a sick Rookie, and they have a much needed honest conversation. 

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Jordynne’s background is my own creation, based loosely off of MC in-game’s personality and provided with more details.

Author’s Note: Lucky # 13! Boy, oh boy, did I have a hard time with this update. I was so busy and wrapped in work and felt like I never had the time to write, and then when I finally did have the time to write, my brain would be like “uhhhhhhhhhhhh”. Anyways, it’s here! I don’t know why, but I’ve been so obsessed with the fact MC bought Ethan chocolate, and this chapter is the cultivation of that. Also, the beginnings of more confrontational jealousy/angst with Bryce and Ethan. 

Also, side note: Does Pixelberry have a word for Uber? Like they do for Ikea? I couldn’t remember? I mean, I could have just used Uber, but why would I make my life easier? 

As always, all likes, comments, reblogs and messages are very appreciated! If you would like to be tagged in future updates, please leave a reply or DM! 

Taglist: @drakewalkerfantasy @owleyes374@professorortegasstudent@mindlessdreaminxo @mayar-mahdy @paisleylovergirl @nicquix @emilymay100 @octobereighth @jenp02cutie-blog @llamasgrl @timmagicktoad @lilyofchoices @msjpuddleduck @mfackenthal @paulfwesley

Previous Updates: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve

PART THIRTEEN

Pacing down the hallway, Ethan rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He had been at the hospital for over eighteen hours now, going back and forth between patient rooms, his office, and Naveen.

Slowing down his steps, he tried to peer into the on-call room casually. It was empty — the door slightly ajar, lights off and bunkbeds empty.

Letting out a sigh, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stormed off again. He hadn’t seen Jordynne all day — she had been in emergency during rounds, she didn’t join her friends at their rambunctious table in the cafeteria for lunch, she hadn’t checked in on Naveen all day.

He knew she hadn’t gone home — Dr. Santiago had switched his name to hers on the rotation chart. Not that he had checked…

Ethan knew she could be avoiding him. She probably was. He would do that — if he was her. It would be easier.  Every time he saw her his own head swirled with confusion and want and anger. He had no idea what she was feeling — he hadn't really given her the chance to tell him.

He knew better than to do it — but he just wanted to see her. If he saw that perky blonde ponytail, her crispy white coat, the glint in her eyes as she made a correct diagnosis. If he could hear the confidence in her voice — it would make him feel better. She had been flying through the competition, remaining number one since they returned from Miami — she was doing good.

As he turned the corner towards his office on the fifth floor, his steps faltered.

Jordynne was propped up against a wall, leaning up against it with her eyes closed. Her usual professional outfit — her blouse and white coat were long abandoned for scrubs and sneakers. Her blonde hair was a twisted knot at the nape of her neck, pieces hanging out to frame her face messily. A clipboard dangled loosely from her hand.

She hadn’t noticed him yet.

“Rookie, what are you doing?” Ethan asked, stopping just short of her.

Her thick brows furrowed at the sound of his voice. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, and her green eyes finally opened to look at him. She looked exhausted — large dark circles laid underneath her eyes, her tan skin pale but her cheeks and nose were flushed a deep pink. “What do you want, Dr. Ramsey?” Her voice was gravely and raw.

He crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at her, “Is that any way to speak to your Attending?”

She let out a groan, lifting her head off of the wall to blink lazily at him, “Ethan, don’t...”

His blue eyes studied her face more — it looked thinner. “You’re sick, aren’t you?”

Jordynne shook her head pathetically, “I’m working another double. I’m just tired.”

“Are you really going to try and lie about being sick to the head of diagnostics?” He raised his eyebrows at her, trying to force down the smile that was creeping on his lips.

“I’m not lying,” She raised herself up against the wall, crossing her arms across her chest to match his stance. “I don’t get sick.”

Ethan rolled his eyes at her, noticing the effort it took her to just stand up straight and glare at him. “Sure you don’t.”

Reaching his hand out, he went to touch her forehead, but she jerked back. “What are you doing?”

He swallowed the hurt he felt at her reaction, his hand hovering in front of her still, “I’m seeing if you have a fever.” Raising his eyebrows, he silently asked for permission.

Relenting, she pushed her forehead into his hand stubbornly. She closed her eyes as his cool skin met hers. He could feel her fever immediately — her skin hot and sweaty.

“Rookie, your burning up.” His blue eyes filled with concern as he pulled his hand away. “You need to go home.”

She shook her head at him, blonde pieces of her hair shaking in front of her face. “I can’t, I’ve got patients in beds and ER might need coverage later —“

“Jordynne,” Ethan cut her off, “If you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t take care of your patients.”

Another sigh escaped her lips, “I really don’t want a lecture right now.”

“It’s not a lecture.” Uncrossing his arms, he let them fall to his sides as he caught her eye. “You need to  rest.”

“I can’t leave.” Her voice was quiet but certain.

“One night of rest won’t bump you from being number one in the competition.”

She shook her head at him angrily, “It’s not about the competition. I need to monitor their conditions, I’m waiting on some results —“

“I can do that.” Ethan shrugged, trying to meet her eye again. “You gotta know when to step away, Jordynne.”

“Holland’s don’t quit.”

“God, you sound like my father.” He grimaced, grabbing onto her elbow. “Come on, my office. Now.”

She didn’t move from his touch as he dragged her towards his office. He deposited her onto the leather couch in the corner of the room, before putting his hands on his hips and looking around the room. “Don’t move,” He said quickly, pointing at her before marching out of the room again.

Ethan was only gone for a moment, before returning with a few things tucked under his arms. Folding out one of the thin blue hospital blankets, he placed it on top of her legs carefully. She was studying him carefully, watching his movements.

He placed her water bottle, that he had found at the nurse stations, next to her. He knew it was hers —it was covered in stickers and had her patterned scrunchie wrapped around the top. Finally, he handed her a cool, damp cloth and instructed her to put it on her forehead.

“Sit. Drink.” Sitting down behind his desk, he started skimming through her patient’s files, getting caught up on their symptoms and treatments.

“You really should work on your bedside manner, Doctor.” She said, grabbing onto her water bottle and taking a small sip.

He rolled his eyes at her, “Well, I know you’ll be a stubborn patient.”

Chewing the inside of her lip, Jordynne couldn’t argue back.

“I told Casey and the nurses to come to me with updates.” He spoke without his eyes leaving the documents. “Sleep — I’ll be here.” She remained silent as he read, the only sound was her occasionally re-arranging herself on the couch.

Ethan had to purse his lips to keep himself from smiling — reading through her files and notes. She was good. She was getting better every day — her diagnoses were spot on, treatments were textbook. Her files could be used in case studies.

Looking up from his desk, he noticed Jordynne was laying down on the couch now, stirring slightly and her eyelids fluttered. Moving her files to the side, Ethan started looking over Naveen’s case again. It was driving him insane — re-reading the same work constantly, over and over and over. But there had to be something he was missing. Something he was overlooking.

A soft knock at his door brought him back to reality. Glancing over at the still sleeping Jordynne, he quickly crossed the room to open the door. Cracking the door open, he saw Harper standing outside his office, her hand on her hip. He kept the door open just enough for her to see him — blocking the view of the sleeping intern on his couch from her.

“Emery — what are you doing here?”

“Hi, Ethan. I’m great thanks for asking. How are you?”

Glancing down at his watch, Ethan realized the time. “It’s one in the morning, I’m not in the mood for pleasantries.”

She smirked at him, “It could be one in the afternoon and you wouldn’t be in the mood for pleasantries.”

Raising his eyebrows expectantly, Ethan waited for her to speak again.

“I was just passing by and saw the light on. I’m looking for the doctor on call — Holland?”

He tried his best to hide his swallow at the mention of Jordynne, “I sent her home.” He lied.

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, “Did she do something wrong?”

“No, she’s sick — can’t be around patients in the state she is in. I’m staying to cover.” He closed the door a little more.

“That’s very nice of you — to cover for an intern.” He knew that voice — she was digging.

“It’s for… the patients. Not her.” He met her eye — staring down at her intently.

“Right.” He wasn’t sure if she believed him. “Well, make sure you get some sleep, okay? Even if it’s on that horrible couch in there.”

She reached out to grab onto his arm, but Ethan moved it to the side, out of her reach— which she noticed. “Goodnight Dr. Emery.”

“Dr. Ramsey,” She nodded, before turning on her heel and marching away.

Letting out a breath, Ethan slid back in through the door. Glancing over his shoulder, he realized his conversation had woken Jordynne up.

“Lying to the chief now?” Her face was still flushed with fever, but she tried to manage a cheeky smile.

He objected. “I didn’t lie.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize your office was my new home.”

He scoffed, “Well, I did send you home. You just didn’t listen.” He sidled up next to the couch, kneeling next to her, “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Cold too.” She played with her ponytail and unraveled her hair from it. “Sore throat.”

He grabbed his stethoscope out of his pocket and held it up in silent permission. When she nodded, Ethan slid the tip down the top of her scrubs top. Focusing his mind, he listened to her breath for a moment. “Influenza - a cold.”

“Ugh, I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” She slumped back into the couch, exasperated.

“Twenty-four hours, at least Rookie. I’d better not see you here tomorrow.” He put his hands on his knees and pushed himself up.

“I have the day off.”

“Good, you need it.”  

She eyed the pile on his desk, “Are you reviewing Dr. Banerji’s case again?”

He let out a sigh, “Yes, to no prevail.”

“I thought of a few more ideas I haven’t tested yet. I can’t remember them right now — but I jotted them down in my notebook in my bag. I’ll go get it.” She started straining herself, attempting to get off of the couch.

“There is a no chance of me letting you get off of this couch right now, Rookie. I’ll go get it. And something for your stomach — you need to eat.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t — don’t go anywhere.” He paused at the door, looking her over. His voice was sincere. “Okay?”

“Okay.” She made a point of tucking herself into her blanket, burrowing into her spot on the couch a little deeper. “Locker 37.”

The halls were quiet as he made his way down to the first floor, and headed into the employees' locker room. It didn’t take him very long to find her locker — and it was unlocked. Of course, it was. She was too trusting.

Opening it up, he got a wave of her vanilla perfume wafted towards him. Her locker was messily organized — a pile of textbooks sitting underneath her grey messenger bag, a collection of pens in a magnet holder.  She had her change of clothes folded neatly on top of her stuff. Ethan grabbed her bag and clothes, tucking them under his arm quickly. A loud clatter to the floor made his shoulders hunch up.

Looking down to the ground, he saw her phone sitting face down on the hard tiled floor. Balancing her things on his hip, he quickly picked it up and inspected the screen for cracks. He let out a sigh of relief as he realized there were no cracks -- but he felt a frown form on his face as her screen lit up with texts.

She had tons of missed notifications — which didn’t surprise him. Jordynne was much more sociable and friendly than he was. And she had been working for the entire day — and wasn’t using any of her breaks. Names flashed across the screen — missed FaceSpace from her mom, texts from a Jason — that was her bother, right? — her roommates asking how her shift was going in a large group chat. His heart faltered at Lahela’s name — he knew he would see it. Emojis were twisted into the letters of his name, making it stand out with its color.

💛 🏄🏽‍♂️  Bryce  😊 🐶: This is going to be super selfish, but you should really just let yourself in after your shift? Just stay over here, and then we can start our day of fun as soon as possible. If you know what I mean  😏 . sent at 11:41pm

Ethan felt his stomach twist — feeling the familiar wave of jealousy spreading through his body. It’s what he wanted wasn’t it — for her to find someone else. It would be easier on her that way. But it didn’t mean he liked it. Realizing the invasion of privacy, he shoved her phone into her messenger bag without another glance.

Heading back upstairs, he avoided eye contact with a nurse he didn’t recognize on the elevator before zooming back towards his office. Holding on the strap of Jordynne’s messenger bag tightly across his shoulder, he stopped at the vending machine to purchase instant soups and the nurse station to fill them with hot water. Balancing the steaming cups in his hands, he jimmied his way back into his office — the door flying open quickly.

Jordynne looked up at him standing in the door frame with a look of alarm — his entrance was very abrupt. He crossed the room in a few strides, before holding the boiling styrofoam cups of soup out to her.

“Chicken or beef?” He blurted out.

“What?” Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Soup. Chicken or beef?”

Blinking, “Oh! Chicken, thanks.” She said quietly, moving her arm to get up off of the couch.

Before she could move further, he handed her the soup — stopping her movement. She smiled at him sheepishly before settling back into the couch. She hugged the soup close to her, relishing in the warmth.

Ethan put his dinner down on his desk carefully, before placing her messenger bag at her side. “Here’s your things.”

Balancing her food onto the arm of the couch, she dug through her bag immediately and pulled out her little black notebook. It was busting at the seams now — it looked like it was stuffed with post-it notes, folded pieces of paper were tucked in between the pages. “Here,” She tossed the journal in the air to Ethan, who caught it between his hands easily.  

“Thanks,” He murmured, thumbing through the book until he found the most recent pages. Holding the book up to read, he maneuvered through his office with ease — opening up the drawer beneath his coffee machine and pulling out plastic utensils. Without really thinking about it, Ethan plopped down onto the couch, next to Jordynne and handed her the plastic fork and spoon. Realizing how close he was, he slid over to the other side of the sofa.

The pair ate in silence — the only sound was the slow slurping of them eating their instant soup and the occasional cough from Jordynne.

“You know, you are way to prepared for this.”

Ethan furrowed his thick brows at her, his nose scrunching up, “What?”

Jordynne waved at their soup, her blanket, his drawer filled with plastic cutlery, “For staying over in your office. I can tell you do this a lot.”

“I — Well, it’s just easier sometimes.” He hesitated, “Besides, you of all people know there’s nothing waiting for me at home.”

She flashed him a look, “I’m telling Jenner.”

“Jenner…,” He let out a humorless laugh, “He deserves a better owner.”

“I think he has a great owner. He just needs to realize that there is a world outside of this hospital.” She looked over at him, her eyes sincere.

Ethan opened his mouth to speak before closing it again. He didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know what to think about any of this. His insistence on taking care of her, the constant fight between his head and heart. The proximity of the two of them on the couch — how he could just reach out and touch her so easily. The text from Lahela. The look on Harper’s face as she questioned him. It was too much — too complicated.

He blinked back to reality as he felt a shift of movement on the couch as Jordynne stood up. “Where do you think you’re going, Rookie?”

“I’m assuming you’re not going to let me go back to my patients?” She took her hand off of her hip and pointed behind herself to the patient rooms surrounding his office.

“No.” He said shortly.

“And there is no way I’m leaving this hospital tonight. So, I might as well settle in.” She bent over and grabbed the clothes Ethan had put into her bag for her.

Ethan tensed as she moved to peel her scrub top off, and he averted his eyes. “Oh, here let me leave —“

“I’m wearing a shirt underneath, Ethan. You can relax.”

Except he couldn’t. His body went on full alert as he took her in, heat spreading across his neck and stomach climbing up into his throat. She had a small tank top on underneath — the thin fabric leaving little to the imagination, clinging to the curve of her waist and chest, the low scoop revealing the top of her cleavage. He swallowed as she pulled a worn Oregon State sweater over her head — hiding the sight of her body once more.

Moving his eyes back down to her notebook, he attempted to focus on her neat printing as she finished changing. He felt the cushion sink as she sat down next to him again, curling her socked feet up onto the couch.

“You’ve thought a lot about this,” He said quietly, thumbing through the pages of her notebook.

“I told you I would help you. Some of the things in there,” She pointed at the book, her eyes half-closed as she rested her head on the arm of the couch, “Probably don’t make any sense… But I thought it would be worth a shot.”

“No, they’re — they’re good. I haven’t thought of Lymphocytic Thyroiditis…. It fits his symptoms.” He scratched at his beard, as he continued reading. As he turned the page, a folded piece of paper fell onto his lap, and he opened it up to find a printed out article. “Rhodes Disease?” He held it up, his eyebrows raised in question.

“I know she’s not officially my patient, but I started looking into it for Mrs. Martinez.”

A smile snuck onto his lips, “So you’re going to find the cure to Rhodes Disease now too?”

A quiet chuckle escaped her lips as she wrapped herself up into the blanket further, “I know it sounds stupid but…,” She trailed off, her voice croaking slightly, “I just don’t want Mrs. Martinez to feel so trapped anymore. She wants to live out the rest of her life outside of this hospital — regardless of how many days she has left.”

Ethan felt a wave of guilt wash over him — his throat tightening as he thought of Naveen alone in his bed in the construction zone. He was the reason he was trapped in the hospital day after day, and for what?

“Stop thinking about Dr. Banerji.” Jordynne still had her eyes closed, her head resting on the couch and blonde hair splayed out behind her.

“I wasn’t—“ But she cut him off.

“Ethan, just for one night try not to overthink and overanalyze everything.” She rolled over onto the couch, getting more comfortable and twisting herself up in the blanket. “You’re already trapped in your office at work with a stubborn patient. Don’t make it worse for yourself.”

“Get out of my head, Rookie.” He said with a twisted laugh, sinking into the couch a little further. “And I’m not trapped in here with you. I’m glad I found you when I did — or you would be passed out in some supply closet.”

“You were trying to find me?” She asked, her voice quiet.

“No. Yes. I —“ He stammered over his words, “I just hadn’t seen you and was curious.”

“Mhmm, sure.” Her voice croaked again.

Ethan stole a glance at her — she still had her eyes closed, her lashes casting a little shadow onto her flushed cheeks. Her hands underneath her head to form a makeshift pillow, and her legs were pulled up into herself, curling up onto the couch to make room for him.

Swallowing hard again, Ethan tilted his back until it was resting on the backrest of the couch. Staring up at the ceiling, he tried his best to not start overthinking. _______________________________________________________________________

Pain.

That’s what she woke up to first.

Jordynne’s eyes squeezed shut as she woke up the horrible sensation of a raw, swollen throat. Blinking several times, she woke herself up and looked up at the ceiling of Ethan’s office. The lights were off — a warm glow coming from the lamp on his desk. She didn’t remember them turning them off — she must have passed out on him pretty hard.

Turning her head, she looked down the leather couch and found Ethan still sleeping. His head was tilted back, resting on the backrest with his face to the ceiling. Her eyes traced the line of his jaw and cheekbones, his prominent nose and soft lips. Gulping guiltily, she tore her eyes away and noticed his outstretched arm — his large hand just inches away from her tan one. Did they fall asleep holding hands? Jordynne raked her brain, trying to remember anything but could only recall them talking about Mrs. Martinez and Dr. Banerji.

With a furrowed brow, she slowly reached down into her bag and dug around for her phone to check the time — 6AM. Her face softened as she read the notifications she had missed from her family and friends. She replied to her mother first, quickly typing out an apology for missing their weekly call. After replying to her brother and friends, her finger hesitated over Bryce’s name. Chewing her lip, she glanced between her phone and Ethan before typing out another message.

I’m sure you’ll realize I’m not there when you read this. I ended up sick last night, and camped out at the hospital. Rain check? sent at 6:04am

Jordynne propped herself up on to her elbow, looking out at his office. She hadn’t been in it for a while — avoiding the space like the plague after Miami. Getting up off of the couch slowly, she did her best not to wake Ethan up.

Hunched over slightly from aches and pains, she moved around his desk in search of medicine. He practically lived in the room, she figured he would have to have some. She paused at the papers on his desk — looking at the multiple textbooks he had flipped open and dog-eared, the notepad with his messy, scratchy writing she was just now starting to be able to read. His computer was blinking softly every so often, having long fallen into “sleep” mode, and a cold, stale cup of coffee sat next to it long forgotten.

Opening up the drawers quietly, she rummaged through a few in search of a familiar bottle. As she opened the last one, it caught slightly and caused a sound. Looking down into the drawer, Jordynne’s eyebrows furrowed together.

“Rookie, what are you doing?” Ethan’s sleepy voice asked.

She didn’t reply but instead looked up at him — confusion washing over her face. “What is this, Ethan?”

“If you’re looking for medicine, you’re in the wrong…” His voice trailed off as Jordynne held up several chocolate bars to him.

“Are these — Are these the chocolate bars I gave you?” She questioned, the line between her brows getting deeper.

He opened his mouth, stammering, “I — uh,”

“Are they? Yes or no.” She asked sternly.

“Yes.”

“Why are they in here? Locked away in a drawer?”

He licked his lips, thinking, “Because, I —“

“Because you what?” She interrupted, “Is it also unethical for you to accept a gift from an intern now? How dare I attempt to comfort you with a 99 cent piece of chocolate.” She dropped them back into the drawer with a thump, and crossed her arms over her chest, “You made it seem like it helped. You told me it did.”

He got off of the couch quickly, standing on the opposite side of the desk from her, “It did.”

“Then why are they sitting in your desk, hidden and untouched?” She stared at him, waiting for an answer.

“Because —,” He took a deep breath, his hands were tight fists at his side, “Because I don’t deserve it.”

The pair stood across from each other for a moment — remaining silent as their eyes met.

“I don’t deserve it,” Ethan repeated, letting his fingers out of their fist.

“This isn’t about the chocolate, is it?” She uncrossed her arms, letting them fall to her side. Her expression softened, the line between her brows disappearing.  

“All of this — the chocolate, and visiting my apartment, and your help with Naveen. Miami. I’m not worth it, Jordynne.”

She shook her head, blinking, “Don’t say that.”

“I’m not.” He barked, his voice louder than he intended. “Everything that we’ve done — that I’ve made you do…” His voice trailed off as he ran his fingers through his thick hair, “This isn’t my risk to take. It’s yours. And risking your career, and reputation, on me? I’m not worth it. I don’t deserve that.”

Jordynne moved around the desk, and she watched as Ethan gulped at her movement. “Like you said, it’s my risk to take.” Her voice was still gravely and raw from being sick, but sincere. She stopped just in front of him, moving her neck to look up at his face. “You wanna know what I think? I think, that this,”  She pointed back and forth between them, “Means something. It means a lot.” Without really thinking about it, she reached her fingers out and grabbed onto his. “And locking it away in a desk drawer, or avoiding each other in the halls, and Donahue’s isn’t going to change that.”

She felt her heart leap at the sensation of him holding onto her fingers tighter. “We keep coming back to this,” He said, his voice low.

“It’s inevitable.” A small smile tugged at the corners of their lips at the word.

Jordynne looked up at Ethan, meeting his blue eyes with her green ones. All of him — his thick eyebrows, the bags under his eyes, his dark stubble; his fast quips and smart mouth, his never-ending knowledge, the way he tugged on the back of his shirt when he was nervous — how did he think he wasn’t worth it?

“I really wish I wasn’t sick right now.” She sighed, her voice rawer than before.

He met her sigh, “Me too.”

She eyed his mouth, licking her pink lips shiny, “But getting Dr. Ramsey sick wouldn’t be very good for the hospital, would it?.”

“It may be a tad suspicious too.” He joked, raising an eyebrow.

“There are other ways to get sick, Ethan.” She smiled cheekily, but the sound of a knock at the door caused the two to jump.

Ripping their hands apart quickly, Ethan flashed Jordynne a look before heading to the door. She quickly grabbed her messenger bag and notebook, pulling it onto her shoulder as he opened the door.

“Dr. Ramsey, hey, I was actually just looking for —“

“Bryce?” Jordynne peered over Ethan’s shoulder to see Bryce standing outside, his arms crossed over a puffed out chest.

“Jordy, hey.” Using his shoulder, he moved past the Attending and into his office. “I didn’t think I’d find you up here. I checked the on-call room, but you weren’t there.”

“Oh yeah,” Panicked filled her for a moment, “I was just getting an update from Dr. Ramsey on my patients. He covered for me last night, so I could try and sleep whatever this is off.” Her fingers wrapped around the strap of her bag tightly.

Bryce’s smile faltered a bit, but he grabbed onto her anyway, “Well, let’s get you out of this place and go home? When I saw your text I ordered a Dryver right away — they’re waiting outside.”

“Oh,” She blinked, trying to catch Ethan’s eye but he was looking down at the floor. “Okay…”

As the pair walked over to the door, Bryce grabbed onto the strap of her messenger bag, “Here, I’ll take that for you.” He slung the bag over his head easily, before holding the door open for her to leave.

Jordynne glanced behind her again, hoping to catch his eye once more.

She did. They were filled with uncertainty, as he watched her walk away. “Feel better, Rookie.” He said, his voice back to its usual cold tone.

As Ethan went to the grab the door from Bryce, he paused as the surgical intern turned to face him, only about a foot apart, “Thanks for the assist, Dr. Ramsey. But I’ll take it from here.” He flashed him a devilish smile, before turning on his heel and wrapping his arm around Jordynne.

Dumbfounded Ethan watched them for a moment, before closing the door a little harder than he intended. Letting out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, he leaned up against the door, placing his forehead onto the wood. 

What did they just get into?

Part Fourteen

[lefthanded-sans]

Greetings! I would appreciate your advice and research tips on the subject of fanfic creation, however brief. I've been thinking about Undertale in regards to a story I love, and am considering writing a cross since they share tonal and thematic similarities. I have a vague concept down for the crossover, but am doubting that the plot will thicken organically. Is there a method that you find generally works well for this sort of *under*taking, or a recipe for plot ingredients and mechanics? -p

Heya there! I hope I’m responding quickly enough to you, friend! (also, love that pun) I’m hoping you have a lot of fun writing your fanfiction!

I wish we could talk back and forth about this because I feel there are many different methods that work, and every creative writer I’ve met works extremely differently. So I’m not sure where to start or what best to expand upon! XD I tend to be an obsessive outline and pre-writing planning guy. It can be anything from casual planning (writing notes in a journal as ideas Spontaneously Come To Me) or creating an extremely detail-heavy color-coordinated table charting characters, characterization, themes, intertwining plots, etc.

For something like a crossover, if I’m combining the two plots from the originals, sometimes I like to do a simple train-of-thought planning exercise. I’ll write out a very condensed summary basically trying to write the full fic plot start to end. Instead of writing the full story, every word and action and character and event, I try to write the “skim” version. It still forces me to think through character motivations, how event A connects to event B, etc. This is an attempt to make the events come out organically. 

I also love talking through fics with friends. I start by telling them the characters, plot, ideas, whatever... but as the conversation develops, I hit areas I don’t understand yet. The conversation helps me process the holes in the story I have. And between my friend and me, we can bounce off one another brainstorming to come up with cool solutions. It’s a great way for me to make sure my plot is going to go forward start to end.

Other methods I have tend to be a lot more meta-focused, chart-oriented, and detail-obsessive, going through proportions and theme developments and stuff like that. I don’t know many other people who find that as helpful, so I think I won’t mention it here. ^.^

Feel free to respond to me, though, either through another message, or even if you want to PM!

[swanandapirate]

Seatimes (1/2)

Happy (belated) birthday to @villains-happy-ending! You were my first fandom friend, Aimee, the first one to welcome me to this crazy nook of the internet and you were the one that introduced me to a lot of people people that are nowadays extremely big parts of my life too. So for all of that, and because you’re such an amazing person in general, I’ve written you a little (cough cough) birthday gift. (Prepare for a lot of nautical puns)

A Podcast AU (inspired by an actual podcast I came across a couple of days ago) where Emma gets obsessed with Killian’s maritime podcast Seatimes and of course life finds a way to make their paths cross

~4,600 words

ff.net

(The italic bits are little fragments of Killian’s podcast. Non-italics are Emma’s pov)

She stumbled upon Seatimes as she was researching a case. The skip was a selfish, misogynistic prick that wore Lacoste polos tied around his neck, a $200-dollar salmon-colored shirt, and a pair of shoes that was probably worth twice, if not thrice, the amount of money his shirt cost. He got thrown into holding for embezzlement of his own company’s funds, owned an actual boat and still ran away from every attempt made to make him settle up; he kept and kept on refusing to pay his bail. And so, Emma was brought into the picture.

Following his movements, both real life and online, like a hawk, Emma came to the conclusion that the rich, embezzling jackass was in search of someone to cheat on his wife with. He wasn’t even trying to be coy about his search for a mistress. Every picture on the account he had set up on some sleazy dating site were either of his precious boat or of him bare-chested and holding in his stomach on his precious boat.

Not a lot more backstory was needed to figure out the way to crack this case. Emma had to become the woman of all women to him. The one that, unlike all the rest of womankind according to him, had knowledge of boats and how currents worked, and all of that and not to forget a pretty face and nice figure. Luck would have it that Mother Nature and a lot of exercise had granted Emma the latter but the former… not so much.

She sadly– not very sadly if it meant staying clear of Mr. Douchebag– belonged to the general, uninteresting part of her gender, so she was forced to gain a life worth of knowledge in a short period of time. Three days to be more exact, because her skip had agreed to a date in four. Three days to become an expert.

“Welcome to Seatimes. I am Jones. Consider me your Captain to cross the wild and murky waters of naval and maritime knowledge. Each week will feature a guest as well as some must know things about the soaring seas and the ship sailing them. I hope that by the end of these podcasts, you will consider yourselves more of an expert on the subject.”

She tried it on her own in the beginning; her eyes skimmed the internet for reliable sources and when those turned out to be pure gibberish to her, she attempted to read every possible Wikipedia page. Emma read about ships and currents and flags and boats and every other thing that had to do with the sea. It was an overload; a tidal wave of content Emma’s brain hadn’t been able to thoroughly prepare for. The matter entered and seeped back out, only leaving behind small traces of its presence. The typed letters on her bright screen started to blur and all of the remaining information began to collide with each other, the internal battle creating, even more, chaos than resided before.

Emma needed to switch tactics, to come up with a different game plan for this case or her cover would come into deep waters. Her mouse clicked on tons of links and her cursor browsed various videos and articles, but none were to Emma’s liking. Either they treated her as a child, explaining everything in a sugary, condescending voice, or they click baited her into picking a video and then persisted to talk about something completely different. Frustration arose and she was this close to giving up until a link on page twelve of Google’s results caught her eye. The site was simply called Seatimes and the description talked about a maritime podcast. Perhaps this would manage to remind her which side was port and which one was starboard.

“The confusion between port board and starboard is amusing, to say the least. I can’t tell you how many a tourist I’ve seen completely freeze and just stare at me with wide eyes when I mention one of them. I completely understand, however, that if the difference isn’t embedded into your head from a young age like left and right are, you get confused. I always remember the little mnemonic that my brother taught me when I was a little lad and that was that drinking a lot of port never made you feel right, but being a star did. So, port board is left and starboard is right.”

Mr. Douchebag had completely fallen for her act, had stared at her with an amazed and slightly turned on gaze as Emma excitedly talked about coastal navigation and how using charts was better than using a GPS. The job had been smooth sailing; the perp overpowered and imprisoned in no time. It was one of the easiest ones she had ever had, her cover fitting her perfectly (like her dress), and a lot of that, if not all, could be attributed to Seatimes. It had taken Emma one day to listen to seventeen episodes and each one had her yearning for more. She was eager to learn, something that she hadn’t experienced for years. So, even though the case had been closed and sealed, Seatimes became a part of Emma’s weekly routine.

It even became the highlight of her week. Forty minutes a week were completely dedicated to Seatimes. No distractions; just Emma, a muted phone, her computer and a glass of wine.

The doorbell rang, and rang again since Emma decided to ignore the sound, preferring Jones’ British cadence over it. No interruptions. After a third ring, a familiar voice drifted through her door and into her apartment.

“Emma!” Emma sighed and forcefully pressed pause. “I know that you’re home; your Bug is out front.”

A groan escaped; there was no going back now. Mary Margaret was, as the relentless ringing had already betrayed, an adamant woman. Emma threw her head back, her locks flying around with the jolt. She loved her best friend dearly, but how did she not understand that if Emma wasn’t opening the door, there probably was an underlying reason. Like her sacred Seatimes times.

With hasty steps, she approached the door and swung it open. It revealed Mary Margaret, a small smile on her lips and hands folded over her protruding belly.

“What?” Emma greeted, her tone not welcoming at all and her word choice quite curt.

“You could be a bit more kind to a pregnant woman.” Her raven-haired friend raised an unamused eyebrow.

Emma supposed that Mary Margaret was right and that she could be more kind, or at least less pissed off.

“I’m sorry, Mary Margaret, please come on in.” Her hand gestured to her apartment as the guilt crept up on her.

“I was just joking,” Mary Margaret assured as she entered. “It’s totally alright. Sorry to barge in.”

Emma shrugged in response, showing that it was quite alright.

“What were you doing?” The curiosity filled the room as Mary Margaret peered around. She found it void of any other people or proof something suspicious was taking place and turned back to Emma.

“I was just listening to a podcast,” she answered. “Relaxing.”

Emma didn’t know if her friend had noticed the small jab in her answer.

“So nothing much,” was Mary Margaret’s conclusion. “Good. I’m here to ask you if you’d like to visit an art gallery a friend of mine is opening. She’s really talented and it’s supposed to be one of the most hyped events of the month,” she explained with excitement, bouncing on the ball of her feet.

Emma’s response came instantaneously; she didn’t need any time to think about it or consider going.

“No, thanks. I think I’ll pass.”

Her friend clearly wasn’t expecting that answer as she looked confused.

“Emma.” Her brow creased and her mouth was set in a discontent scowl.

“I don’t feel like going out today,” she tried to reason. She usually didn’t feel like it, the coziness of her home beating any overtly loud and awkward socializing, but especially today (and every other Wednesday), it was out of the question.

“But there’s going to be free food and free drinks. If I can’t take advantage of free alcohol, you definitely should.”

Emma shook her head, already bracing herself for what would follow. She knew what this meant, declining one of her offers yet again. She would receive one of Mary Margaret’s ‘way too invested in your social life best friend’ speechesTM

“Emma,” she began speaking, her tone motherly and at the same time disciplining. “You should go out more. Meet new people. Start dating again.”

There was no use. Not since Walsh had completely destroyed her last remnant of hope towards love by cheating on her while they were engaged. Why keep putting herself out there, keep taking part in pleasantries that lead to nowhere? Why should she continue risking her heart if it never worked out?

“I’m not like you, Mary Margaret. I’m not social and bubbly and whatever else belongs to your characteristics,” Emma specified. “There’s no use in trying to get me to go places. I need a break of at least a year from life, because it’s frankly quite exhausting and I want to catch my breath. Everything’s fine how it is. I don’t need love.”

“My only love is the Sea, Eric.”

“Jones, don’t hold it against me that I’m married.”

“I’m not. I’m not. As some of you might know Eric’s wife is professional swimmer Ariel Andersen. I would imagine that she understands your dedication to the sea and your research.”

“She does. She is my biggest fan. I recently even named an algae I discovered after her.”

“Did she feel honored that there’s now, of everything in the very deep sea, an algae with her name floating around?”

“I wouldn’t call it particularly honored. Disgruntled is another word for it.”

“As I suspected.”

Weeks passed and she kept listening. At this point, Emma wasn’t fooling herself anymore. This wasn’t about the content of the show, hadn’t been about that for quite some time. Her attentive listening was because of Jones. His voice, the soothing melody, and his passion. Every word dripped of love for the subject, of pure enjoyment. That was what he transferred onto Emma. That was what made her tune in week after week.

Her curiosity got the best of her one day and the desire to know more about him as well. The man was an enigma, a mystery. The only thing she could derive from the podcasts was that, if his accent told her anything, he had to be UK based.

There were a lot of people that bore the name Jones across the pond and trying to find him among them would be an impossible endeavor. Emma had one last trick up her sleeve, one last asset she hadn’t utilized yet; her bail bonds knowledge. Though “bail bonds knowledge” wasn’t anything specific or a program she could run, it was more being persistent and scrutinizing every nook and cranny of her resources.

She checked everything but there was nothing. Every possible connection to Jones was always carefully through Seatimes. The contact email address was just called Seatimes, the site was registered on that name, the Facebook didn’t have any personal mentions about the person managing the account. It was a dead end. At least she discovered that the page often posted little previews of episodes to come, so she liked it to be kept up to date.

“I know I’ve been quite secretive about who I am, where I live, what I do but that’s simply because I don’t think that would add anything to this podcast. A lot of listeners have sent me an email recently– which you can if you have any questions, the link is on the site– about the dangers of sailing. So, for the first time, I’m feeling inclined to share a very personal story.

“A couple of years ago, a younger, more carefree version of myself went out for a sail. I was boisterous back then, overconfident about my own capabilities as a sailor. A storm was predicted that day but I didn’t heed the forecast’s warning, I simply ignored it and continued with my plans. The storm was terrible; as terrible as the forecast had predicted it to be and I got into trouble. The boat I was on was completely wrecked and my left hand was completely crushed which lead to the stump I know have.

“This story isn’t to scare you away from touching or setting foot on a boat ever again, because I didn’t. It cost me blood, sweat, and tears but I am able to live without my hand now, am able to do what I love most which are sailing and making this podcast. There are dangers to sailing like to the rest of life, but a lot of them can be prevented. Be smart, listen to weather forecasts, check everything, double check everything before you leave, make sure that you are one hundred percent capable of sailing, and most importantly: be safe.”

“Happy birthday!” Mary Margaret beamed with joy, throwing her hands up in the air and welcoming Emma for a hug.

The loft that Mary Margaret shared with her husband David (and Emma’s other best friend) was adorned with little lights and balloons and filled with many familiar faces.

She smiled in return, letting the happy atmosphere of her friends and family in the room catch on. Emma normally wasn’t a fan of birthday parties; a small and quiet dinner usually sound far more alluring but she knew that, with turning thirty, a party would be inevitable. Surprise parties were even less enjoyable to Emma and Mary Margaret knew that, giving the birthday girl a much-appreciated heads up weeks in advance. Emma had embraced it, forced herself to not be a negative Nellie when the notorious day arrived and to actually enjoy herself.

Crossing the entire loft, she greeted everyone, thanked them for coming and flashed them brief smiles as a thank you for their birthday wishes.

Everyone was chatting, a drink in hand and some quiet music floating through the room. It was in that moment, the start of a new decade of her life that Emma decided to change, that she made a vow. To be more open again, to go out again, to stop locking herself in her apartment while she had so many people that loved her and wanted the best for her. She’d let the past control the present too much and this was the end of it.

“Alright,” David interrupted Emma’s thinking and the others’ small conversation. “It’s time for Emma to open her presents.”

The room erupted into cheering and Emma felt the blush creep onto her cheeks.

“David and I’ll go first,” Mary Margaret announced, approaching Emma with a small blue envelope in her hands.

The couple looked at her expectantly as Emma accepted the gift and slowly opened it. Her fingers revealed a card written in Mary Margaret’s swirly handwriting with only three words on it.

“The Sailing Brothers?” Her brow furrowed as she questioned the message. “What’s this?”

“Well,” Mary Margaret started timidly, turning the card in Emma’s hands to reveal the backside. There was more written there. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been quite interested in sailing and boats lately so I thought you might enjoy a small sailing trip.”

Staring at her friends, back at the blue card and back at her friends, Emma narrowed her eyes.

“How did you notice that?”

Before, Emma had been certain that her Seatimes obsession was something concealed, something locked between the four walls of her apartment.

“Facebook?” Her answer resembled more to a question. “You’ve been liking a lot of nautically themed posts. Was I wrong to assume you would like this? Because I can still change it if you want.”

“No, no!” she protested. “It’s amazing. You’re both amazing.”

“Oh good,” Mary Margaret sighed in relief. “Just let us know when you’d like to go and we’ll take care of everything. You should probably go as soon as possible, before winter truly sets and everything becomes cold. I doubt that a sail will be enjoyable when you’re freezing.”

“Honestly, I am not a winter person. There’s just something far more alluring about sailing in the summer when it’s warm, the sun is shining. Even though summer gets my preference, I don’t stop sailing during the winter. Only when the weather forces me, when it’s too cold or stormy. There’s just something about the cold wind racing and sweeping through your hair, coloring your cheeks that makes it worthwhile.

"As you might’ve guessed; today is all about how to prepare yourself and your boat for winter.”

The more she thought about it, the more Emma had been dreading this getaway sail. It meant being alone for several hours with a random person who was supposed to teach her how everything worked. And as one might’ve noticed, Emma and socializing didn’t usually go hand in hand.

There was her resolution, however, to be more open to new people and new things lingering in the back of her mind. Plus, she couldn’t let down Mary Margaret and David by letting their probably quite expensive gift go to waste. So, after a lot of pep talking herself, Emma had chosen a date, had sent it to M’s and had let her book it. This way, she’d be forced to go.

The day arrived and Emma rushed to her window, hoping the sky would be dark and gray, predicting a looming storm. The sky her eyes witnessed was anything but. It was sunny and only a few puffs of white decorated the blue background. Of course, today the weather gods decided to forget that November meant fall, not summer.

Slowly, she got dressed, ate a small breakfast and made her way to the docks. M’s had texted her the address and the Bug reached the destination fifteen minutes before her sail was scheduled. Emma stayed in the car for five additional minutes, fiddling with her fingers before deciding that she had waited long enough.

A large sign told Emma that this was indeed The Sailing Brothers and she pushed the door open, triggering a bell. A man a bit older than her thirty years walked towards her with a kind smile that made crinkles appear around his blue eyes.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” Emma spoke. “My name is Emma Swan.”

The man nodded before Emma could continue explaining that it was Mary Margaret that had booked the sail for her.

“Very nice to meet you, Ms. Swan.” He offered his hand and Emma grabbed it, shortly shaking it. “My name is Liam. Welcome to The Sailing Brothers.”

Emma muttered a small thanks in return, but sensed that her dread towards the trip had lessened considerably by meeting Liam and getting a glimpse of his personality. He seemed like the kind of person that wouldn’t let the sail get awkward, something Emma would really appreciate.

“Mary Margaret told me this was a birthday gift.” His eyebrows rose slightly, checking the piece of information with Emma and dropped again as she let out a confirming hum.

“Happy birthday to you,” he congratulated before getting back to business. “The sail will take about three hours and includes an introduction to sailing, but seeing that Mary Margaret told me you’re quite interested in the sea, a lot of it will probably be repetition. There are complementary drinks and snacks on board, so no need to rein yourself in.” He threw her a fast wink.

Sounded like Mary Margaret to tell her entire life, her interests, and aspirations to a virtual stranger.

They had started moving, left the building and walked towards the ship Emma assumed was going to be the one they were going to use.

Suddenly, a figure appeared on the deck of the ship, carrying a rope and throwing it from one side to the other. The man was clearly preparing it to leave the docks.

Liam must’ve noticed Emma’s curious glance as he replied to a question that was only asked in Emma’s mind.

“That’s my brother Killian, the actual sailing brother.” He chuckled. “I take care of the business side and he gets all the fun.”

It was a bit disappointing to hear that Liam wasn’t going to be accompanying her on her sail. She’d just gotten used to him and was beginning to look forward to all of it.

A phone rang in the distance and it made Liam look up. His eyes moved between the small distance between the ship and Emma.

“I should probably go and get that. It was very nice to meet you, Ms. Swan. I hope you enjoy your sail.”

And with that Liam left her standing alone on the docks, running back to his office to answer the ringing phone. Emma closed the previous distance and halted right before the ship. She didn’t want to assume she had permission to come aboard, so she waited until she was noticed.

The wait gave her time to observe the man hastily working. His hair had the same shade as his brother’s but lacked the small curls. He was muscular, the movements in his shoulders and arms betrayed that, and younger than Liam. His very defined jaw was dusted with light scruff that changed color when the sun hit it.

Killian suddenly stopped moving, his eyes settling on her, and flashed her a grin while motioning her on board. Emma let out a small, preparing breath and stepped on the wooden plank.

His eyes were blue as well and absolutely took her breath away.

Crap. The guy she was stuck on a ship with for three hours was absolutely gorgeous.

“Emma Swan, I presume?”

“That’s me,” she replied.

It proved far too distracting to focus on his eyes so Emma chose to lower her gaze to the floorboards instead.

“Welcome aboard.”

He extended his hand and Emma tried to ignore the little jolt of electricity tha ran up her arm as their palms touched.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Killian Jones.”

Emma stilled.

That voice. How he pronounced Jones. It seemed awfully familiar. She softly shook her head, trying to get rid of her feeling. It was not because his last name was Jones and that he was British, that he was that British Jones.

But she had noticed something else. Killian’s left hand was missing. A metal attachment in the form of a hook replaced it. Missing a hand was a bit rarer than being called Jones and being British and the concurrence of those three was probably not very common.

“Don’t worry about it, lass,” Killian said, noticing her lingering eyes and holding the hook up. “I’m perfectly capable of steering the ship without it.”

“No it wasn’t-” Emma remonstrated. “I wasn’t doubting that.” She shook her head.

She should just ignore it, pretend it’s a very coincidental coincidence. That he was called Jones. And was British. And he loved sailing. And he didn’t have a left hand.

“Even though the weather is quite good today-” Killian continued, undeterred. “-there’s quite a lot of wind today, but don’t worry, wind isn’t always bad. Especially when it comes to sailing.” He bared his teeth in a grin. “To start your sail, I will need you to go to starboard and fetch a rope for me.”

The thought that this might be Jones was still haunting Emma’s mind, slowing down her reaction and making her seem confused about star- and port board. She knew which one was which, thanks to Seatimes.

“It’s confusing, isn’t it?” Killian said. “My brother taught me a mnemonic when I was small to remember and it was that drinking a lot of port never made you feel right-”

“But being a star did,” Emma intervened, familiar with the mnemonic and everything he was probably going to say on this sail.

It was him.

“Aye,” he said taken aback. “How did you know that?”

Emma wasn’t buying his act; he had to be perfectly aware of how she knew that.

“You’re him.” The corners of her lips curled but it was more in a grimace than in a smile.

All of this reeked of Mary Margaret meddling.

“Him?” A crease appeared in Killian's–Jones'– forehead. “Sorry, I’m afraid I’m not following.”

The confusion clouding her mind completely disappeared, Emma becoming bolder, straightening her back.

“Jones.” Her hand gestured towards him. “Seatimes. How did Mary Margaret put up you to this?”

Emma was getting angry now. How could they trick her like this? She already knew it was weird for her to be so obsessed with a stupid maritime podcast, but this only made her more aware of it, only made it more embarrassing. She would think Jones would have enough integrity not to do this to an unsuspecting woman.

“You listen to Seatimes?”

“Yeah,” Emma almost yelled in exasperation. “That’s why I’m here right? For some fangirl sail.”

“No, I’m pretty certain it’s just an ordinary sail or maybe the fangirl upgrade package didn’t get through to me.” Killian smirked. “But I am excited to meet my first official fan.”

“Oh.”

Emma’s face fell and her eyes widened. Shit. While she thought she was being embarrassed, she was actually embarrassing herself. The heat rose to her cheeks and Emma had an intense urge to run as fast as she could and sever all ties with Seatimes. No way in hell she could enjoy listening to it anymore. “I’m not doing this.” Turning around, she walked away from him and any further shameful situations.

“Swan,” he yelled and repeated as he caught her hand. “Swan. Don’t leave. Everything has been paid for and I’ve just completely prepared the Roger. You got her all excited to go out.”

He couldn’t make her feel bad about a ship. Things didn’t work like that, did they? She did feel a tinge of guilt but if it was because of the ship or him or her best friends, was up for debate.

“The Roger?” she questioned. “As in The Jolly Roger?”

“The one and only.” He smiled proudly. “So what do you say?” His head tilted as his blue eyes perused her face.

“Alright.”

Emma returned and went to starboard to grab the rope he needed. He sent her a thankful look as he continued to prepare the Roger.

There was not a lot of use for him to teach her things about sailing because she already knew them, so they just sat in silence next to each other when the Roger was well underway, neither of them knowing what to say.

“I thought you lived in England.” Emma looked at him.

“Moved here seven years ago with my brother.” He shrugged after explaining his accent.

The silence returned and the wind wisped around, sending Emma’s locks flying.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been listening to the podcast?” His expression was curious.

“About three months, more or less.” Emma’s hand tried to tame her locks, pushing them behind her ear. “I needed to do some research.”

Killian stood up and went to stand behind the helm.

“Are you writing a book?”

“Oh no,” Emma was quick to correct him. “I’m a bail bonds person and I had a target that loved sailing and women who were into it.”

“Ah.” He turned the helm, but only barely and its creaking was the only sound again. “Did you get him?”

“Huh?” Emma asked, attention focused on the openness of the sea and not on his words.

“Your target?” Killian clarified. “Did you catch him?”

“Oh, yeah.” Emma nodded, walking around and tracing her finger along the railing. “I did.”

“Good.”

Major thanks to Ruhi ( @ofshipsandswans ) and Selina ( I didn’t tag you, are you proud of me?) for their enthusiasm, encouraging me to write this and for editing this *smirk* Other people who occasionally like to be tagged in things I write: @shady-swan-jones @the-reason-to-sail-home @artandteaandstuff

[preserving-ferretbrain]

The Demon's Blah Blah Blah

by Wardog

Wednesday, 01 September 2010

Viorica was right, and Wardog was wrong. Wardog tears into The Demon's Covenant.~

The Demon’s Covenant is the sequel to The Demon’s Lexicon, which I reviewed

here

, and very much enjoyed. I sometimes suspect that being liked is a mixed blessing at Ferretbrain as all it does is prepare for the way for a crushing disappointment, and I was, indeed, disappointed by The Demon’s Covenant. I’m vaguely suspicious that I might have read a different book to the rest of the internet, because every single other review I’ve seen has been full of love and squee, and I won’t deny that The Demon’s Covenant is full of Brennan’s usual charm, but it’s also extremely self-indulgent and does very little beyond set up the third book.

It reminded me most strongly of Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire – not because there’s any real similarity between the texts themselves but because, at the point book IV came out, I was still a stalwart Harry Potter fan and, although I was surprised at the sudden jump in length compared to the third book, I decided to forgive the book its obvious flaws because I was so into the Harry Potter world. Of course by the time the fifth book came out it was clear that no amount of engagement in the text could save the series from what it had become: an undisciplined, unedited mess. The Demon’s Covenant is NOT Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire but compared to the tight plotting and exciting twists of the first book it might as well be.

In essence, nothing happens in The Demon’s Covenant until the final thirty pages. The story opens some time after the end of The Demon’s Lexicon, with Mae trying to get her normal life back, when she discovers Jamie is in contact with the Magicians. Needless to say she calls in Nick and Alan and that’s basically it until the very end of the novel when there’s a big fight between The Goblin Market and the Magicians’ Circles. Yes there’s some politicking, with Jamie being passed about like the magical McGuffin he so clearly is, and Alan does another one of his trademark manipulative switcheroos, but largely there is a lot of “stuff” in the story but not much to make it a coherent narrative.

Part of the problem, I suppose, is the natural move from novelty to familiarity that affects every sequel. There is no sense of discovery here, only further information about the people and places and concepts that were introduced to us in The Demon’s Lexicon, information which largely serves to render these things less interesting, rather than the reverse. Also the “Is Alan going to betray Nick” dance is performed a second time, although less effectively because the answer is self-evidently either “NO NEVER!” or “Probably not in the second book”. And I do recognise it’s meant to be about character not action but as much I like the characters I still felt the amount of time given over to their delineation was excessive, and the degree of detail borderline obsessive.

For example, part of the book consists of extracts from Alan’s father’s journal, charting his son’s attachment to the young demon and his own developing relationship with Nick. It a chilling, and heartbreaking account (“when I drew the blanket back, Alan was sleeping with one arm curled around the monster. In his other hand was an enchanted knife”) and yet also completely unnecessary. It doesn’t tell us anything we don’t already know, and it has to be bunged awkwardly into the narrative by having Mae read it aloud to Nick, who cannot read well when he’s emotionally distressed. Since the story is entirely told from Mae’s point of view, she spends a lot of time acting like Harry Potter with his invisibility cloak so she can be in on the right scenes for the sake of the reader. Furthermore, Alan’s father writes like a teenage girl with an LJ and literary pretentions, rather than a grief-stricken ordinary man, beset on all sides by enemies:

My blood ran heavy and cold through my veins, as if terror could turn me to stone, and I tried not to think of what bloody game or dark purpose the demon might intend for my son. That night I went upstairs with an enchanted knife in my hand and stood over the cradle. Drowning hadn’t worked, but this knife had the strongest spells the Goblin Market knew laid on it. The nightlight was on, casting a pattern of cheerful rabbits on the opposite wall. It [that’s the demon not the nightlight] lay sleeping in a pool light, but even sleeping it doesn’t look like a child. Not quite. I stood there sweating, the hilt of the knife turning slick my grasp. Then from the door, I heard Alan say, “Dad?” I turned and saw him looking at me, and the knife, and the demon. My little boy’s face went so pale it seemed translucent. He looked like the tired old ghost of a child long dead.

I know the effectiveness of first person narration depends largely on reader being willing to suspend disbelief, but there was something so self-consciously dramatised about Alan’s father’s journal that it consistently detached me from the story it was telling. I also suspect there’s a difference in a narrative being in the first person from the outset – you know it is not literally a journal any more than an epistolary novel is literally an exchange of letters – and a first person narrative being included in the body of the text as a found item, in which case basic plausibility demands that it sounds at least a little bit like what it’s supposed to be. And I’m honestly not sure what the journal of guy protecting a crazy magician ex-girlfriend and her demon spawn at the cost of his own son’s life and future happiness would sound like (Number of times tried to kill demon today: 7 –v. bad) but as much as I like the line “He looked like the tired old ghost of a child long dead” it just struck me as far too constructed to support the ‘reality’ of the journal as a journal.

Although I’m away I’m whinging here, and I have to say, I didn’t like The Demon’s Covenant, Brennan is a talented writer. She has a lot of wit and style, and I genuinely enjoy the experience of reading her, even if, in this instance, I didn’t actually like the book. Although I’d kind of reached information-overload on the emotional and psychological intricacies of the characters by the midpoint, I do have a degree of fondness for Nick, who is just as hot, ruthless, confused and genuinely entertaining as ever:

She glared at the back of Nick’s head and said, furious and irrational, “You could have danced with him at the club.” “I could have,” Nick said. “There were kids from school there. He gets hassled enough. Anyway, I don’t really dance for pleasure much.” “Uh – so you, uh, dance professionally, or what?” Seb asked. “Yeah,” said Nick. “The ballet is my passion.”

And I think I like Mae. She is strong, and compassionate and smart, and pretty much everything one would want in a female heroine, while still being flawed and human and making mistakes. The tone of the book is much more emotional than The Demon’s Lexicon, as one would expect now the point of view is not rooted in Nick, and perhaps Mae’s natural insight and interest in the people around her is partially responsible for the amount of time spent dwelling on the minutiae of character. But there was also a part of me that couldn’t shake the conviction that big advantage of Mae’s point of view for the author is that it liberates her to spend a lot of time describing hot dudes being manly and self-sacrificing at each other.

“Oh Nick,” he said in a soft, amazing voice. “No.” He limped the few steps towards his brother, then reached out. A shiver ran all the way through Nick, as if he was a spooked animal about to bolt, but he didn’t bolt. Alan’s hand settled on the back of his brother’s neck, and Nick bowed his head a little more and let him do it.

Just shag already!

Although I got through The Demon’s Covenant with my appreciation for Nick and Mae relatively unscathed, the same could not be said for Jamie and Alan. Jamie, at least, has stopped wearing purple and being fabulous, but the quirky charm I found reasonably endearing last book has paled through overuse to the point at which I find him genuinely grating. Again, this is probably completely unfair of me but from the fragments of Brennan’s LJ I have read here and there, his style and general approach to life is so reminiscent of hers that he’s evolving into some kind of gay Mary Sue:

“I can cook better than you,” Nick corrected absently. “I think monkeys can probably be taught to cook better than you.” “I’d like to have a monkey that cooked for me,” said Jamie. “I would pay him in bananas. His name would be Alphonse.”

Also I find his vulnerability when combined with his homosexuality bothersome. I know he’s a powerful magician, but he’s also sweet and forgiving to the extreme, subject to crazy crushes on unsuitable people (I mean he does kick off the books by canoodling with an incubus which naturally gives him a demon mark) and squeamish about violence. Couple this with a tendency to make a fool of himself in public and an inability to hold his drink and you’ve got a character so mind bogglingly pathetic I would be up in arms if she was a girl. Perhaps it is a symptom of my own internalised prejudice that I see these qualities as feminising but it’s less about Jamie being girly than the fact he is very much ‘other’ to the rest of the men in the text. I suppose I should probably just be relieved he’s not Magnus Bane but the implicit association of homosexuality with a ‘different’ set of virtues to those of straight men was not exactly comfortable for me.

And then there’s Alan. Oh dear. He was my favourite character in the first book, because he was unexpected, a supposedly “nice” guy, as cold and ruthless, in his way, as the demon he guards. However, in The Demon’s Covenant, his presentation seems to have moved into a space that is less interestingly ambiguous than completely unfocused. I skimmed a few reviews out there on the Internet at large and the general feeling is largely Squee!Alan. His fucked up, loveless life and his unrequited love for Mae seems to be winning him the pity vote. However, I found him icky, icky, icky and although that’s not a problem per se I couldn’t work to what extent I was meant to find him icky, icky, icky. The love triangle between Mae, Alan and Nick established in the first book is continued, or rather repeated, with little development. Alan is still in lurve with Mae, Mae still fancies the pants off Nick, Nick seems to feel some sort of reciprocal desire for Mae but obviously is supposedly incapable of love … and therefore thinks she should be with Alan, partially because he knows he can’t do the human emotions thing but also because he’d do anything, give up anything, for Alan, and if Alan wants Mae than Nick will probably do whatever it takes to ensure he gets her.

I don’t know if we’re meant to find this creepy and objectifying but it fucking well is, not least because it isn’t presented as a demon treating a human being as a trinket, but because everyone else in the book – including Mae – believe she’d be better off with Alan. And it’s annoying that Mae, who is a smart girl most of the time and managed to navigate the love triangle with some dignity intact last book, ends up in precisely the same mess this book – grinding with Nick while he’s pissed off with Alan until the point Alan interrupts them and Looks Sad. Get a new hobby, Alan, for God’s sake.

Mae also semi-encourages Alan’s attentions, even though she knows she doesn’t feel much of a spark, basically because she pities him. I know I am not the target market for The Demon’s Covenant but regardless of age and experience: pity is not the foundation of a healthy relationship. Just (wo)man up and tell him you don’t fancy him. Of course, midway through the pity fest, Alan lets rip with this little speech:

"After my dad died, I looked everywhere for someone to love me. I used to sit on the bus and watch people, see if they looked kind, try to make them smile at me. I had a hundred dreams about a hundred different people, loving me." Alan's voice was low, but he didn't falter. He reached out and touched her hair, very gently, pushing it behind her ear, "Of all the girls I ever saw," he said, "I dreamed of you the most.

Again, I know I’m not the target market here, so perhaps I’m more inclined to find things creepy that a teenage audience might find gloriously tragic and romantic but, seriously, if a man ever said that to me I’d run away screaming. Yes, right then, right there, because he clearly has a raging case of

Nice Guy Syndrome

. And guys who guild trip you into going out with them are so dreamy. Not. I’d take the demon anyday, he’s significantly less emotionally maladjusted.

And, this, I suppose was largely my problem with The Demon’s Covenant. I read lots of books for which I am not the market audience – I even enjoyed Twilight until I realised it had no sense of self-irony at all – but the more I read of The Demon’s Covenant, the more I felt the gap. I honestly just don’t get it, and I wonder if there’s just a fundamental disconnect between myself, the author and the world as envisioned by the author. One of the big themes of both books has been self-sacrifice – the brothers, and to a lesser extent Jamie and Mae, are always tumbling over each other to get themselves roundly shafted in the name of protecting the other person. I’m not saying that self-sacrifice is not a powerful device and all that, but it tends to work as a climax, or at the very least as a one-off. When people are constantly sacrificing themselves for each other, it soon loses its impact. I might be pulling justifications out of my arse here, but I also suspect is a trope that gets more play in fandom. Over-used, however, it rapidly degenerates into little more than emotional pornography.

And there’s an uncomfortable moral dimension to it: self-sacrifice, by its very nature, is an act performed in spite of, as much as because of, another person. Needless to say, because of this it tends to be largely non-consensual, which has the weird side-effect of infantalising and disempowering the sacrificee in a deeply unpleasant way. Ultimately every self-sacrifice involves a run-up of double-dealing and deceit, so that the act itself is a massive massive betrayal of trust – trust, that is somehow miraculously restored through the act of self-sacrifice.

To put it another way, mean, Sydney Carton’s sacrifice has nothing to do with Darnay – he does it for Lucie, because he loves her, and because she loves Darnay, and partially because Carton realises he’s wasted his life completely and therefore has little to give to the world, except his sacrifice for a better man. In the world of The Demon’s Covenant, Carton would love Darnay, and therefore trick Lucie into helping him look like he’s betrayed Darnay to allow him to sacrifice himself for Darnay instead.

Self-sacrifice becomes a closed system, in which the keyword seems to be “self” – it’s less about the person you save, than the personal act of saving, catching all the characters in a perpetual game of “I love you more”. Sacrificing yourself for the person you love is ultimately a pretty selfish act – essentially all you’re saying is that if someone has to live on miserably you’d rather it was then. Sacrificing yourself for the happiness of the person you love as Carton does actually has meaning. And, yes, I know, I know, Alan sacrifices himself for someone who isn’t Nick, but it’s basically sacrifice for the sake of sacrifice, and thus as irritating as hell. Of course it doesn’t help that it’s only the second book so most attempted self-sacrifices get derailed, so it seems we’re meant to be enjoying the exquisite anguish without having to actually, y’know, be upset or lose a character.

I guess I’ve been pretty harsh on The Demon’s Covenant. Although I found individual things to like about it, for example the strength of the characterisation, Mae and Nick, witty, lively writing, I can’t really say I enjoyed it. I’m willing to chalk up, largely, to me rather than the book since it seems to be generating rave reviews across the internet. I think maybe I’m just too old and grumpy.Themes:

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Arthur B

at 13:52 on 2010-09-01I know this is absolutely nothing to do with the review, but what the hell is up with the cover?

I mean, seriously. If you ditched the title the cover only conveys four things:

- It takes place in London.

- There is a martial arts smackdown at some point.

- The weather is bad.

- Someone's been dying their hair.

None of which implies a fantasy novel, none of which implies demons, one of which implies pretty much anything I recognise from the review.

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Dan H

at 13:56 on 2010-09-01To be fair, I don't think the cover of a book with demons in it has to have a demon on the front.

Also, the word "Demon" in the title might be considered a clue.

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Arthur B

at 14:01 on 2010-09-01I dunno, "Enter the Dragon" didn't actually have any dragons in it. I think the chances of the book being mistaken for some sort of edgy modern day almost-cyberpunk martial arts thing aren't bad.

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Dan H

at 14:55 on 2010-09-01I really, really think you're reaching here.

Urban fantasy hardly *ever* has anything explicitly supernatural on the cover. You might as well complain that because /The God of Small Things/ has a flower on the cover, people might mistake it for a book about botany.

I'd also point out that this is another argument in favour of the Dark Fantasy section. Otherwise people might accidentally pick up Urban Fantasy books expecting ... umm ... cyberpunk martial arts novels.

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Arthur B

at 15:11 on 2010-09-01Actually I'm taking the piss. :P

Though that flower on GoST is floating down the river which is the allegorical spine of the book.

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http://mary-j-59.livejournal.com/

at 15:50 on 2010-09-01I kind of disagree about Nick's father's diary. It gave me more insight into Alan, and I found the man's progression from extreme hatred into love and protectiveness for Nick rather moving. I also ended up admiring Jamie, who seems braver (morally, I mean) and clearer-eyed than anyone else in the book. He may be a hopeless idealist, but I'm hoping he succeeds in finding a way to use magic for good, not evil. And I'm hoping Seb may be redeemable, in spite of his cowardice. Oh, and Annabelle rocked.

Back to Alan. I think he is creepy, and meant to be creepy, and the insight we get into his childhood explains why. I actually asked Sarah Reese Brennan about this, telling her that I found the prospect of Alan in a relationship scarier even than Nick in the same situation, because Alan is manipulative and profoundly damaged. She said I was right.

My two cents, as always. BTW, did you read "Fire"? I keep asking that!

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Wardog

at 16:32 on 2010-09-01I liked the arc, and I thought it was *interesting* - but I don't think it showed you anything you hadn't already seen, and in a book I personally found bloated with detail, it was simply one step too far. I might have liked it better had the book been generally tighter. Also the style bugegd me, as you know :)

I liked Annabelle, but I found the sudden intrusion of an adult presence a bit disconcerting, especially because of the role she plays. I think the problem with YA is that since they often function on an allegorical as well as literal level, adults strain, and sometimes break, that allegory.

I'm slightly comforted by the fact Alan was intended to come across as horrendously creepy - only slightly comforted, mind you, because that means most of the internet is REALLY SCARING ME now.

Your two cents are always welcome! I read Fire, and I loved it, I must review it :)

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http://mary-j-59.livejournal.com/

at 17:37 on 2010-09-01What you say about adults in YA is interesting. I hadn't quite thought of it that way, and it makes me wonder what people will make of the adults in my story, when/if I get it published. Glad you loved "Fire"! I think she is awesome, and I have to review that one myself.

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Sister Magpie

at 18:43 on 2010-09-01I, too, assumed that Alan was supposed to come across as unhealthy and damaged--and not really in love with Mae, tbh. I thought his late conversation with Mae was supposed to imply that, where she basically realizes that he's just manipulated her this whole time (and not even manipulated her through seduction but through pity) and seems surprised that he doesn't realized just how screwed up it is. I think she says something about how he made it impossible that he would be loved so he wasn't throwing anything away by betraying her. Like for him there was only manipulating her pity for him as someone disabled and loving her unrequitedly. Which was why his relationship with Sin seemed to have the most potential. Her repulsion to his limp made him want his good leg back.

One thing I wonder given your thoughts on Jamie--what did you think of Seb? Did he undercut the bad impressions about Jamie by passing for straight in Mae's eyes for so long?

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Wardog

at 21:16 on 2010-09-01It's possible I haven't quite appreciated the complexity of Alan - or given Brennan enough credit. But I don't think the portrayal is quite clear enough, one way or the other, and that goes beyond interesting ambiguity into slightly over-ambitious or perhaps unfocused characterisation. I mean, like I say, I think there's enough scope to read Alan as endearingly broken (he just needs someone to wuv him), and it seems a lot of people have. Again, I'm probably lying issues of interpretation at Brennan's feet unfairly

And I also read his love for Mae as sincere, although it's still something he's willing to give up or use to further his own ends, which, again I think is more interesting and complicated than straight forward exploitation.

The general feeling of other characters seems to be that Alan is a good guy but, again, perhaps that's just meant to reveal how good he is at concealing what a manipulative wreck he is. I guess I'll see how the third book plays out - and, yes, I will probably read it. Because having started I'll damn well finish.

I guess I would be interested in all these layers if there hadn't been so much to wade through.

I slightly preferred Seb, but then again, he's just another stereotype: The One Who Is Mean To The Out There Gay Because He Is Secretly Gay Himself, Zomg!

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Sister Magpie

at 21:30 on 2010-09-02

And I also read his love for Mae as sincere, although it's still something he's willing to give up or use to further his own ends, which, again I think is more interesting and complicated than straight forward exploitation.

True. The reason I didn't consider him to be in love with Mae was really more that it seemed like the series in general, as stated by Mae, was sort of rejecting the idea that teenagers considering dating each other could be true love. Like at one point Mae said something about how nobody's going to "lose her" or whatever if they don't go out with her, they'll just date someone else. So it was kind of making a point of saying that romance at this point was not going to be the main driving force because nobody felt that deeply about anybody (perhaps only yet).

So the way I read the thing with Alan was that yes, he actually did have a crush on her. But once he decided to sacrifice that for Nick (like the self-sacrifice addict) that was what shaped his behavior. Like, if Alan was really hoping to date Mae he wouldn't be making speeches about dreaming about her the most because he's giving up anything like a healthy relationship chance in favor of guilting her and inspiring pity. But I could be totally wrong there. It's quite possible that that speech was Alan's true feelings coming out as a sort of tragic declaration out of hopelessness. As opposed to more of a perverse/bitter put down of himself as an object of pity that he's making work for him.

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http://katsullivan.insanejournal.com/

at 11:18 on 2010-09-07While I agree that Ryves Snr's diary did not read like the journal of a grown man, it's easily explained if you realize that Ryves had been a prose writer or poet before he became a demon huntert.

Again, this is probably completely unfair of me but from the fragments of Brennan’s LJ I have read here and there, his style and general approach to life is so reminiscent of hers that he’s evolving into some kind of gay Mary Sue

I definitely agree that Jamie comes across as authorial self-insert. Whether Brennan did this deliberately or this was subconscious is arguable. I don't think that automatically makes him a Mary Sue.

It's interesting that you found Book 2 so padded because I found it lacking in details about the mythology of the world. I still don't understand how Jamie's power is so dissociated from his free will that a Circle will go as far as to kidnap him to have it?

The reason I didn't consider him to be in love with Mae was really more that it seemed like the series in general, as stated by Mae, was sort of rejecting the idea that teenagers considering dating each other could be true love.

Interesting you should observe that, Magpie because that was definitely the impression I had got all through out the books and I found Mae's discovery that she is in love with Nick at the end of DC extremely profound because the distinction made it clear that it was no casual teenage-type of love that she was professing.

My one grouse with the characters is the lack of demographic diversity. All the main characters are White and this includes the protagonists and antagonists. Sarah Rees Brennan has written a lot of powerful articles about female represenation in stories but the fact is that a quarter of her main cast is female. And this person is also the most magically disempowered one. Her gay presentation, as you noted, is also problematic: Jamie and Seb.

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http://katsullivan.insanejournal.com/

at 11:20 on 2010-09-07I also found the death of Annabelle extremely problematic for the same reason. She reminds me of Spock's mother in the 2009 movie: she appears in the story just long enough for her to have a Meaningful Death for the benefit of her children's own story.

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Sister Magpie

at 21:19 on 2010-09-07

the main characters are White and this includes the protagonists and antagonists.

Except for Sin. Also I would quibble that while Mae is the one non-magical person, she's not exactly disempowered as she's being considered for what seems like a very important job in the magical world.

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http://katsullivan.insanejournal.com/

at 10:12 on 2010-09-08Have fun!

Except for Sin.

*face-palm* Why is it that when the race-fail or gender-fail in a story/TV show/movie is pointed out, the first response you get is almost always: “It can’t be racist if there is one Black/Asian/non-White supporting character in a sea of major White players.”? How does it help the conversation about racism and under-representation in fiction and fictional work (and the way that under-representation spills into real life) if every time the topic is raised, tokenism is used as a defence?

Sin is racially ambiguous – her little sister is described as blonde in the first book. She is also a peripheral player until hopefully the third book which is written from her PoV. (This may still not make her a major player, just the narrator.) Apart from all these things, Sin is still one character amongst White characters like: Mae, Nick, Alan and Jamie, Gerald, Black Arthur, Olivia, Sebastian, the female leader of the other Magician’s Circle (whose name I can’t recall), and Merris Cromwell.

Also I would quibble that while Mae is the one non-magical person, she's not exactly disempowered as she's being considered for what seems like a very important job in the magical world.

A job that can go to either Mae or Sin. So that’s two women fighting for a position of power (or a White woman making a power play for a Black woman's own position of power), which is far better than two women fighting for a man, but still two women fighting for one point of significance! As opposed to the men who get to be fought over for being uniquely powerful snowflakes.

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Dan H

at 13:38 on 2010-09-08

How does it help the conversation about racism and under-representation in fiction and fictional work (and the way that under-representation spills into real life) if every time the topic is raised, tokenism is used as a defence?

To be fair, I don't think Sister Magpie was trying to present a defence so much as a clarification. I could be wrong but I didn't read her comment as dismissing your concerns, just highlighting that rather containing exactly zero non-white characters, the book in fact contains exactly one.

I'd also agree (although I haven't actually read the book) that "least magically powerful" is not necessarily the same as "disempowered".

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Sister Magpie

at 15:22 on 2010-09-08

Why is it that when the race-fail or gender-fail in a story/TV show/movie is pointed out, the first response you get is almost always: “It can’t be racist if there is one Black/Asian/non-White supporting character in a sea of major White players.”?

Dan is right, I didn't say anything about how it couldn't be racist because there was one non-white supporting character. I just corrected the statement that there wasn't one single main character who wasn't white, and who I considered at least as important as the villains. She's not racially ambiguous, I believe she says flat out what her background is and it's biracial. I thought it was just giving a neutral fact.

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Leia

at 09:52 on 2010-09-09I think what Kat is saying and I agree is that nitpicking about supporting character Sin's race just derails the discussion about race and gender representation. And, for the record, I didn't know Sin was biracial until I read the comments.

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Arthur B

at 10:27 on 2010-09-09I think it depends on how the nitpicking's done. Pointing out Sin's race but emphasising that this doesn't really change the situation because Sin is arguably only there for reasons of tokenism is different from pointing out Sin's race and dismissing the argument entirely.

Ultimately, it doesn't help to let factual inaccuracies stand unquestioned because people have this tendency to say "Well, this one thing you said isn't actually correct, so I'm going to dismiss your entire argument". If the nitpicking is done with a view to strengthening and supporting the general point that's a bit different to nitpicking done to rip the argument apart.

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Sister Magpie

at 15:01 on 2010-09-09

I think what Kat is saying and I agree is that nitpicking about supporting character Sin's race just derails the discussion about race and gender representation. And, for the record, I didn't know Sin was biracial until I read the comments.

And I just didn't see how it could be derailing a discussion to correct something that I figured was an oversight. It didn't even seem like nitpicking to me.

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Dan H

at 15:13 on 2010-09-09I think the thing is that "correcting errors" is often used as a derailing tactic - while I don't think that was your intent in this case, people do tend to fixate on minor factual-level quibbles in this sort of discussion which isn't *necessarily* helpful.

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Sister Magpie

at 15:24 on 2010-09-09

I think the thing is that "correcting errors" is often used as a derailing tactic - while I don't think that was your intent in this case, people do tend to fixate on minor factual-level quibbles in this sort of discussion which isn't *necessarily* helpful.

True. Though in this case it seemed like the opposite to me, that you don't want to make it sound like it's important that there are absolutely no non-white characters anywhere when there is one. That just leaves you open to actual derailing in the future or accusations that you just erased the one non-white character.

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Arthur B

at 15:40 on 2010-09-09I think it's like I said earlier - it really depends on whether you are correcting the mistake in order to derail the argument, or correcting the mistake in order to tighten up the argument against precisely that sort of derailing attempt. And the thing is, people do the former

far

more than they do the latter, so even though I think Kat jumped to conclusions in interpreting your original comment I think it's a completely understandable jump.

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Leia

at 15:41 on 2010-09-09Maybe that wasn't the intention but the fact is that so far, all the discussion has been about a supporting character's ambiguos biracialness and there has been NO discussion about SRB's choice to make

all

the four main characters and

all

the principal villains white. Kat's point about Mae's mother's fridging has also been completely unaddressed. Whatever Sister Magpie's intention was, bringing up Sin's

ambiguosly presented

race has shifted the discussion from this.

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Arthur B

at 16:07 on 2010-09-09To be fair I think the discussion very swiftly shifted from Sin's race to the subject of derailing itself as it relates to this conversation, and the fact that this particular point doesn't actually change Kat's point.

In fact, I think more or less everyone has declared that they actually agree with Kat's point. Which, er, leaves us with nothing to discuss.

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Sister Magpie

at 16:15 on 2010-09-09

Maybe that wasn't the intention but the fact is that so far, all the discussion has been about a supporting character's ambiguos biracialness and there has been NO discussion about SRB's choice to make all the four main characters and all the principal villains white. Kat's point about Mae's mother's fridging has also been completely unaddressed. Whatever Sister Magpie's intention was, bringing up Sin's ambiguosly presented race has shifted the discussion from this.

Yes, they are all white. But it still seems a bit sneaky to complain about everyone discussing Sin's race (which hasn't really been what people are talking about) while making an argument twice, once in bold-faced, about Sin's race with the implication that this will be the last word on the subject.

Sin refers to herself as a dark-skinned girl, Mae has a moment of awkwardness about not wanting to say something racist in response, and then Sin says that her mother was Welsh and her father's family was from the Carribean originally. I do not think this absolves the book of any and all accusations of race, sexuality or gender fail. But it didn't read as ambiguous to me.

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Sister Magpie

at 16:18 on 2010-09-09p.s. Looking back on my original comment I can see how just saying "Except Sin" could read as a gotcha, like I was saying, "Um, except SIN! Who totally pwns your argument!" That was one of those times where how something sounds in your head doesn't come across on the page. In my head it was meant to be more, "Right, except Sin everyone is white."

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http://mary-j-59.livejournal.com/

at 03:16 on 2010-09-11It was absolutely clear to me that Sin is a girl of color. Because this is set in England, it didn't especially bother me that all the other main characters are white. After all, one of the chief main characters isn't even human! But I did find Annabelle's death problematic, and can't quite put my finger on why. What I said to Sarah Rees Brennan in a recent q and a session was that she runs off with her fencing foils to help in the fight, and we are never shown that the buttons are removed. Everyone else has sharps. Sarah Rees Brennan responded that the buttons had indeed been removed, but she didn't feel it necessary to show it. So - really, I guess my problem is that Annabelle was a pretty awesome character, but she existed (as a powerful and capable woman) primarily to die. And that does bug me a bit.

OTOH, the scene between Nick and Mae in the aftermath was really, really well-done.

My two cents! (again.)

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Leia

at 05:45 on 2010-09-11

Because this is set in England, it didn't especially bother me that all the other main characters are white.

*sighs* Which is why it's never *just* a story for people who don't have the privilege to assume their race is default. If your impression of England's demography is based on SRB's fantasy monochromatic England, it's not surprising you can make a statement like that.

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Arthur B

at 16:32 on 2010-09-11And in London, for that matter! Notable statistics are

here

. Note that this actually implies that London is more racially diverse than parts of the US.

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Dan H

at 17:36 on 2010-09-11

If your impression of England's demography is based on SRB's fantasy monochromatic England, it's not surprising you can make a statement like that.

Yeah, I was a bit confused by that as well.

I think this is one of the subtler and more pernicious forms of stereotyping, it's very easy to get into the habit of seeing ethnic diversity as something which only exists in America in the twentieth century - certainly I suspect that a lot of the reason most fantasy settings are so full of white people is that most people really believe that there *were* no dark-skinned people in Europe in the middle ages.

It's rather peculiar to see somebody applying the same logic to the country I live in - it's one of those things that encourages one to examine one's preconceptions.

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Wardog

at 18:00 on 2010-09-11I'm pretty sure there are black people in England ...

Also I'm pretty sure nobody was trying to derail or racefail here.

To be honest, I find Sin genuinely problematic as a character; she does, in fact, seem there largely to fill the "except Sin" role, and I find her sexualised exoticism a bit, err, dodgy when she is the ONLY non-white character in the book. I mean I know we all like the idea of hot black women dancing around but ... y'know ... it's especially problematic, I think, because the gypsy/other feel to the Goblin Market.

Also the whole "hey, the person I have raised to take over this might be rubbish at it so let's call in the inherently talented white girl" plot is a bit icky.

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http://cammalot.livejournal.com/

at 18:43 on 2010-09-11Aw, I wasn’t quick enough. I’m a chronic lurker here, but I was going to come out of hiding to point out that England is an *incredibly* diverse society! (I have spent far less time in Wales or Scotland and so don’t feel comfortable generalizing, but I do know there are people of color in those areas as well.) Just taking into account people from the Anglosphere/Commonwealth who emigrate or are educated there takes in huge swathes of Asia, Africa, the Caribbean, and so on, not to mention the generations of non-Anglo-Saxons who are born there, or people not from the Commonwealth/English-speaking nations.

I would not necessarily attribute not knowing that to Mary’s (alleged?) race, though. There are plenty of non-white people who think that the UK is wall-to-wall whiteness. I’ve found myself unable to persuade one or two of my own relatives to visit it, due to that belief and the complex attitudes and nervousness bound up in it. Possibly this comes from them not being exposed present-day UK media or whatever, I don’t know.

For the record, I am very lukewarm about both books in the “Demon’s” series. I am going to take a bit of a departure from consensus here, though. And I’m going to be a be anti-Barthian and resurrect The Author, at least for the duration of this post: I agree with Kat’s points in terms of literature as a general body, but I’m not sure I agree with them as regards this particular book, on the subject of race. Aside: I’m glad someone above clarified above that Annabelle being “fridged” was not just a matter of killing off a female character, but that the character existed, basically, *only* to die. I’m on board with that point.

In terms of race (and I speak *only* for my individual self — I’m a black, U.S. woman, and speaking with, I guess, middle-class and Western privilege) I’ve found that I much prefer to *not* see people like me in the books of authors who might not be able to pull it off properly. I’m not keen on the idea of reading practice-run depictions of people like me in the works of authors who are just learning how. It’s upsetting, not entertaining, and it’s gotten more upsetting as I get older and more exposed to subtler types of fail. If I’m going to be misrepresented, I would rather not be included at all, thanks, and I would devote my energies to getting more diverse authors out there and telling their own stories instead.

Therefore if a white Irish/British girl (I believe she has Welsh family? Not sure) wants to write about a bunch of white Irish/British people, I am not going to have a problem with this. This is absolutely NOT to say that everyone should be restricted to writing only about people exactly like themselves — they should not, that would be horrible, and boring, and would diminish the quality of literature in general. But if something is going to be done, it needs to be done excellently, for my satisfaction. It should not be done to check off a list, and believe me, I can tell. And to be blunt, there are more than enough diverse depictions of white people in existence that one or two newbie authors’ screwups will not affect how they are perceived and treated in the real world very much. A white (read male, straight, cis, et cetera also in here, as applicable) character gets to be much more of a blank slate, un-prejudged. Screwing up a character of color feeds into far larger and more pervasive existing stereotyping, prejudice, and bad press. And, to narrow it way down, it affects how people respond to me, for real, in the actual world.

Now, I like Brennan’s blog, and the voice that she uses in it. I have also read and enjoyed her Harry Potter fanfiction. However, there were several things in her fanfiction that pinged me, as a black person, in an unpleasant way. One thing that struck me particularly was a definite sense of Hermione’s hair (large, bushy, frizzy, curly, et cetera — hey, kinda like mine come to think of it, and I know of readers of Rowling’s original work who thought that canon Hermione was actually intended to be biracial due to descriptions of her hair) being unattractive and somewhat mockable, and looking better when controlled with potions or other means of straightening. This in contrast to Draco’s (blond, fine, very pale, described as “the impossible color of childhood” in very romantic passages), mentioned in nearly every description of the character, and even treated as his one beauty when characters have called him less than handsome (Veelas think he is one of them, but wonder if he has had a disfiguring facial accident).

There were also characters she wrote about quite often that I did not know were black characters until I found myself sucked in by a Wiki one day and saw the pictures of the actors portraying them...because...I am more familiar with her fanfiction than I am with the actual Harry Potter-verse. (Yeah, it’s weird, I know, I know. I’m not a fan of those books). There were mentions of Blaise Zabini being black and attractive, but the one time I can recall that involved any detailed description of the character cited his “sleek black hair falling over his face” or similar. Now believe me, I’m well aware there are many people identifying as black with a wide variety of non-chemically induced hair textures; it would be very hard for me to have missed this. But “sleek” and “smooth” remain the only hair textures that get mentioned as attractive: I believe she referred to Ginny’s hair as both pretty and curly, but I was still bothered by the overall emphasis on sleek textures, even on a black character, while the one character’s hair that I empathized with was made fun of.

I don’t exactly hold this against the author. Fanfiction is, to me, a learning workshop, and for at least some of this time period she was a teenager. And much of the more flowery prose, I think, attributable to the fact Draco was the general fetish object of most fanficcers writing at that time; his particular characteristics would therefore be the ones that got lauded and raised above other people’s. And Brennan gets points for outright calling him point-blank unattractive to the viewpoint character(s) in a few stories. Variety!

The thing is, when you put something in writing it doesn’t go away. Even though all official sources of Brennan’s fanfic have been removed from the Internet, it’s still possible to find these examples with a perfunctory Google. How much more indelible would it be if a problematic depiction found their way into a mainstream-published work?

And I certainly don’t see how including a non-white villain would improve this.

I do not know the reasons Brennan neglected to include more non-white characters — it is entirely possible that she could write some quite well at this stage, without including the things that irked me in her fanfiction. I’d like that. I don’t know if she consciously felt she couldn’t, or if it did not occur to her, or if she just plans to do more of it later. But I would rather wait for her to do it at a point in her writing life when she can do it excellently, and I can read it un-irked. I guess I’ll wait and see how she describes Sin’s hair.

And now I’m going to contradict myself — with the books set in London, it’s WEIRD not to see more diverse ethnicities running about even in the background. Lots of times people tend to hang out with people of their own group, and that could explain the main cast, sort of. But there is a distinct lack of background color in this book, and not just in terms of people — I did not get much sense of place in any aspect. Not seeing a variety of people just *being there* is a mischaracterization, I think.

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at 19:48 on 2010-09-11

Not seeing a variety of people just *being there* is a mischaracterization, I think.

That should read "not EVEN seeing a variety of people just being there..." or "Not seeing a variety of people EVEN just being there"... etc. The way it reads above seems like I'm saying people of color *should* be relegated to just "being there," when in fact I'm trying to say that "being there" is a bare minimum, especially for a city like London.

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Shim

at 13:08 on 2010-09-12@Cammalot:

I suppose one difficulty with having a varied background cast is that it's quite difficult to do subtly, because unless you highlight people's appearance (or names, but that can get a bit stereotypey) readers will probably still assume they're white. In fact, it may be especially difficult with lower-tier characters (identifiable individuals who aren't significant characters, your "Angry Commuter" and "Girl in Café" types) because they probably wouldn't merit much description in the normal run of things, and if you start highlighting their ethnicity it might seem rather heavy-handed. For crowd scenes and the like you can at least imply variety.

I'm not saying that's a get-out, mind.

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http://katsullivan.insanejournal.com/

at 11:58 on 2010-09-13@cammalot: I remember reading Hermione as a Black girl, too. For all her faults, Rowling did

start

at least by making Hogwarts casually multi-racial: the Parvati twins, Lee Johnson, Dean Thomas, Cho Chang... Of course in the end, the people that really counted were White. Maybe the silky-haired Blaise thing in SRB’s fanfiction was a call-back from the time the whole of fandom thought he was an Italian girl?

@Kyra Smith:

To be honest, I find Sin genuinely problematic as a character; she does, in fact, seem there largely to fill the "except Sin" role, and I find her sexualised exoticism a bit, err, dodgy when she is the ONLY non-white character in the book. Also the whole "hey, the person I have raised to take over this might be rubbish at it so let's call in the inherently talented white girl" plot is a bit icky.

THIS. Perhaps if Sin wasn’t the ONLY non-white character. But as it is, it’s so many kinds of problematic. And maybe it’s too simplistic a solution, but rather than insert the token non-White character with all the common prejudices (comic relief Asian best friend, exotic biracial dancer), how about making one of the ‘default’ characters non-White? What’s wrong with Mae and Jamie being siblings with Indian ancestry? Or Dan Ryves and Black Arthur being, pun not intended, Black?

@SisterMagpie:

p.s. Looking back on my original comment I can see how just saying "Except Sin" could read as a gotcha, like I was saying, "Um, except SIN! Who totally pwns your argument!"

Yeah, that was the vibe I got.

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http://mary-j-59.livejournal.com/

at 15:56 on 2010-09-13Um - sorry. I have lived in England, and am aware that it is racially and culturally diverse - and also that it's probably far more so now than when I lived there as a child, thirty years ago. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. What I meant was: is it always automatically racist if a white person writes about her own culture? If so, why?

That said, I think can seem more racist to have a token person of color than to have no person of color at all. And Sin does seem to be the token person of color. But -

1. Sin is going to narrate/be the viewpoint character for the third book. Before making judgements about her as a character, I'd like to see how Sarah Rees Brennan pulls this off. I, for one, liked Mae a lot better in "Covenant" than I had in "Lexicon".

2. And I repeat that Alan is creepy, and is meant to be creepy. So I do think, Kyra, that you're not giving Sarah Rees Brennan enough credit. But we can't tell for sure until we have the last book in hand. Heaven knows I gave JKR far too much credit! But everything I've heard from SRB reassures me that I'm not making the same mistake twice.

Which is not to say they are great, great books. They aren't on the level of Michelle Paver or Catherine Fisher or Kristin Cashore. But they are smart and fun and seem to me (so far, at least) to have a pretty solid moral core. I may be wrong, but I am willing to wait and see.

That said, the big problem I had with "Covenant" was Annabelle. I've got dead mother figures in my story, too, but there is a difference between a character's dying during a story and a character's existing solely to die. Annabelle exists solely to die, after having been a nonentity in the first book and a large part of the second, and that does bother me.

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Arthur B

at 16:26 on 2010-09-13

What I meant was: is it always automatically racist if a white person writes about her own culture? If so, why?

The thing is, the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention when folk start talking about white people's culture, because they're usually referring to one of two things:

1: The mainstream culture of the UK, or the US, or some other country which is thought of as a "white" country. The problem here is that, whilst the mainstream culture of white-majority places is obviously going to be largely influenced by the majority (that being why it's mainstream), you can't simplify that to "mainstream culture = white culture" - if you do that, you're saying people who aren't white basically can't be part of mainstream culture, which by definition is marginalising.

2: An exclusive culture which belongs solely to white people and which folk who aren't white can't participate in or understand. The thing is, when people get enthused about celebrating that sort of thing, it's usually because they're Nazis of some persuasion or another.

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at 23:37 on 2010-09-13

Maybe the silky-haired Blaise thing in SRB’s fanfiction was a call-back from the time the whole of fandom thought he was an Italian girl?

It’s possible. It didn’t seem to be a spoofy usage to me, though, and it was written well after Zabini’s identity was clarified. (SRB had a clever, funnier throwaway sequence in an earlier-written piece, about Zabini changing genders with the full moon.) And again, these were all relatively tiny things taken in isolation. They just had a cumulative effect on me. And her work is still, overall, a pretty freaking stellar example of Harry Potter fic.

I do wonder, and I ask this with no belligerence whatsoever, but genuine curiosity — would Lexicon and Convenant have worked better if SRB had simply not included a “token” person of color and a “token” gay person? (I’m using the quotes because the tokenism might be disproved in the third book.) If Sin and Jamie weren’t in there, would we have noticed an absence? (Hmm. I guess we would have, since there would have been even fewer female characters.)

What I meant was: is it always automatically racist if a white person writes about her own culture? If so, why?

I have a lot of contradictory feelings on this subject, all of which are extremely subjective and reflect FAR more of “what I would personally rather read” than “what should be done in society.”

1. If a white person has to be told to include non-white characters, their heart probably wasn’t in it to begin with, and they likely won’t do the best job. So they are better off writing white characters, and that in and of itself will not offend me. (Especially if the group of characters is small — e.g. involving a family or similar.) They need to write what they are enthusiastic about rather than checking off points on a list.

2. It will annoy me no end if the sort of writer above then goes on to write non-white characters half-heartedly (or with stereotypes and cliches) while a minority writer writing on the same topics nowadays will either get paid and publicized less, get marginalized on the store bookshelves, or be instructed by powers that be to shoehorn in white characters in order to be saleable.

3. A white writer who wants to write minority characters should be encouraged to do so. (I didn’t always feel this way, but I do now, strongly.) But I really want to see it done well, and such a writer has to assume the risk that they might not do it well and might be criticized -- and will definitely be more scrutinized as an outsider than a person writing from within the race/culture in question -- and must, well, regard that risk as an invigorating challenge, I guess. That whole “fail better” thing.

An exclusive culture which belongs solely to white people and which folk who aren't white can't participate in or understand. The thing is, when people get enthused about celebrating that sort of thing, it's usually because they're Nazis of some persuasion or another.

Yes. It also posits that white people have one big homogenous culture. (Or that anybody has managed to agree on what “white people” means in the first place.) There’s a difference between writing about “white people [within a larger, diverse culture],” writing about “*a* white culture,” and writing about “white culture” (which, come to think of it, could theoretically be done without white characters, like in postcolonial lit).

But no, I don't think it's automatically racist. I don't think it's a question of anyone being a big old bigot at all, what I'm seeing in this thread isn't an accusation of oooh-you-terrible-racist at anyone, but of leaving out things and people that are there and exist in the world that's being described. There are people in our society who need to see themselves included and represented more. (I'm just wondering how best -- and who is best -- to get that done.)

@ Shimmin: This is very true. I think it was Tobias Buckell recently writing about how if you say things like "bronze skin" people (well, Westerners of all shades) tend to assume you're talking about white skin that has been tanned. Maybe it's better at this point to go bigger with it, especially for minor characters? It's unwieldy to say "The East Asian girl at the corner table," but it might just be what needs to be done. (It bugs me to admit that, too, because I have in the past been very annoyed by descriptions that go "The Asian girl" and think they have actually finished giving an adequate visual.)

I thought China Mieville did a wonderful job using quite obvious names to denote ethnicity in "Un Lun Dun," for example -- and he let the South Asian girl be the heroine to boot. On the other hand, I've found myself, at my age, actually squeeing joyfully at a couple books when I realized the protagonist(s) I'd already made assumptions about were supposed to be dark-skinned. Neil Gaimian managed it in "Anansi Boys," and I think Holly Black pulled it off once by mentioning the color of a character's scars. I felt like I had unlocked a really cool puzzle. :-) And I loved how, in that subtle way, the dark skin was not presented as some sort of deviation from a norm. So I think it's a question of skill, not necessarily method.

All that said, the big problem *I* had with the "Demon's" series was the system of magic felt a bit scattered; I don’t really feel a sense of place; and for a preternaturally emotionless guy, Nick seems to be emoting left and right. (Which for me raises an interesting question — how clueless can you honestly be about human emotions and still manage to always be bitingly quippy? Can you *be * humorous, on purpose, if you don’t have emotions?)

I am tired of bad boys. I was never that fond of them to begin with. I loved Jamie’s saying out loud that whoever he fell in love with would be very nice to him all the time and try to make him happy.

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at 23:37 on 2010-09-13meep! I got very wordy there...

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http://mary-j-59.livejournal.com/

at 02:03 on 2010-09-14I'm glad you did! Basically, I agree with everything you said, except that I haven't (yet) had any major problems with the series - except for the gratuitous offing of Annabelle. And I'd been feeling a bit under attack, though I brought it on myself, I suppose, by writing in haste and when tired.

I do agree with you about Nick, but I think the so-called lack of emotion isn't really such; Nick has lots of emotions. It's just that they are mostly what we would call negative - rage, frustration, etc. But he is capable of what we (or more accurately, I) would call positive emotions, as well. It's going to be interesting to see what happens to him in the final book. At the moment, I'm shipping Nick and Mae, but expecting dead Nick. We'll see.

As far as the system of magic goes, have you read the Bartimaeus Trilogy? It's brilliant, and it almost seems Brennan must have borrowed from it - except that I think she hasn't read those books.

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http://3stan1990.blogspot.com/

at 06:21 on 2010-09-14

Sorry if this is derailing, but katsullivan and cammalot's comments suggests this is the right kind of place to ask these kind of questions. Also, it'll be kind of rambling and will involve a lot of talking about me.

A bit of context: I'm a white, cis, middle class dude from a small Australian town where casual racism, sexism and homophobia was the norm, with a strong white English heritage (my grandparents are Welsh and English and moved here in the seventies). I've been trying to challenge my views and perceptions on race and gender in order to become a better, wiser person.

I'm also an aspiring writer, and I've been trying to work the kinds of things I've learned into my writing. The thing is, I'm not sure if the attitude I'm taking is still just well meaning tokenism.

As an example of what I'm worried about, I have an Indian character (currently nicknamed The Jack, after the video game archetype). Born in India, raised in India, moved to England to study engineering and medicine at the same time, snapped under the pressure, bought a gun, became a mercenary, and is now trying to live up to the 'ultra badass' stereotype. This is intended as a parody of the (as far as I know) Western concept of the Indian nerd (seen in shows like 'The Big Bang Theory' and the movie 'Inception', though Inception plays with the concept a little), as well as a commentary on ultra-badasses in Western media (he'll pull Kirk/Mal/Renegade Shepard style stunts, which will disturb and annoy the other characters). So basically I'm writing a white guy who happens to be Indian. Same with Noiry Thief Dude - he'll act pretty much like a classic Caucasian film noir protagonist, for what I think are perfectly legitimate reasons (analysing the concept of cynicism and the motivations stemming from it), except he just happens to be Japanese.

TL;DR I guess I'm wondering whether or not all my characters being heavily based on Western concepts, despite being from non-Western cultures, is a bad thing.

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Wardog

at 11:29 on 2010-09-14I will second the recommendation of the Bartimaeus Trilogy - I LOVED those.

This is just a general rather rather specific point and apologies if I fail all over it but it was in reference to the tokenism of Jamie and Sin. I never felt Jamie was tokenistic - I thought he was a problematic depiction of a gay person, for me, because his vulnerability seems to go hand-in-hand with his sexuality, but it's obvious SRB is pretty damn interested in him, either as a weird authorial self-insert or because fandom, in general, is very into gay men. I know being "interested" can sometimes be an issue in itself (Jay Lake is clearly "very" interested in Green... altogether now EEEEWWW) but it tends to stave off tokenism. I found Sin much more tokenistic because it seems pretty clear to me that Brennan really isn't interested in the hot black girl, and she's just there to be a contrast to Mae, as well as to demonstrate Mae being friendly with other women to show it's not just about Mae and all the hot men who fancy her.

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Wardog

at 11:31 on 2010-09-14Oh, and I meant to say thanks for taking the time to comment, Cammalot - I've found your take on the book fascinating, and I'm generally just delighted to discover I'm not the only person in the world who doesn't like it! :P

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Dan H

at 13:51 on 2010-09-14

What I meant was: is it always automatically racist if a white person writes about her own culture? If so, why?

I think this is a misleading question for a number of reasons. Firstly, I think getting hung up on questions of what is and is not "racist" is often misleading and distracting. It tends to lead to people getting defensive and turns the whole discussion into one about individual white people. Ironically the more seriously we take race issues, the more sensitive we get about the "danger" of calling a white person a racist.

This touches on what Kat was talking about earlier: if somebody says "hey, anybody else notice how all the important people in this book are white" then a lot of people will respond by saying "OMG HOW DARE YOU CALL MY FAVOURITE WRITER A RACIST" which simply isn't helpful. The question is not "is Sarah Rees Brennan a racist" it's "are people of colour underrepresented in Sarah Rees Brennan's imaginary world". The answer to the first question is "I don't know, but probably a little bit but hell so am I" whereas the answer to the second question is "yes".

Sorry, that was a long and distracting preamble.

To answer your question, the problem here is that talking about "a white person's culture" - as Arthur and Cammalot have pointed out - is actually rather misleading. One of the big important items on the White Privilege Checklist is the fact that your ethnicity *is not* a major part of your cultural identity. Although as Arthur points out, a lot of *extremely racist* people like to argue that this is actually a huge injustice.

Because I am a white person living in a white-dominated country (more generally, because I am a member of my country's ethnic majority) my "culture" is the entire culture of my country. In fact since I'm English, my culture actually includes pretty much the entire English-speaking world. Hell, it arguably includes large parts of the *non* English-speaking world, because my cultural heritage includes amongst other things the British Empire and Christianity.

Because my culture - whether I like it or not - is the dominant one in the English-speaking world I have to accept that my culture *does* include non-white people, and gay people, and for that matter women all of whom have been historically margainalized by my culture and whose contributions *to* that culture have been minimized.

If I write a book about - say - being a student at Oxford and that book contains only white characters (which, to be honest, it probably would) then not only would I be erasing and margainalising non-white Oxford students (of whom there are a great many) I would in fact be *misrepresenting* my actual experiences and therein lies the problem. When a white person presents a fictional setting which ignores or margainalises non-white people, it *is* reflective of a wider cultural tendency to ignore and margainalise non-white people *in general*.

Now from the point of view of an individual text, it might be far better to ignore and margainalize a group than to tokenize, fetishize, or demonize it, but that's a different issue altogether.

To draw a rather peculiar analogy, it's sort of like recycling. I generally recycle all of my rubbish but sometimes I don't, sometimes I will throw plastic bottles in the dustbin. The fact that I recycle 90% of my plastic does not change the fact that the other 10% of the plastic I send to landfill sites contributes to global warming. Even if a person's portrayal of race (or gender, or disability, or whatever) is 90% perfect, it is still possible for the remaining 10% to *actively contribute* to a racist society.

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http://mary-j-59.livejournal.com/

at 16:43 on 2010-09-14Dan, in spite of saying mine was a misleading question, you answered it here:

Now from the point of view of an individual text, it might be far better to ignore and margainalize a group than to tokenize, fetishize, or demonize it, but that's a different issue altogether.

That's pretty much what I meant (and failed, initially) to say.

But it is interesting that, as far as I can remember, no one considered Sarah Rees Brennan racist when reviewing "The Demon's Lexicon". The issue arose in Kyra's review of "The Demon's Covenant", because Sin really does seem like a token person of color. As I said above, she is to be the narrator in the third book, and I'm reserving judgement on the series as a whole until after I've read the third.

I read "Covenant" a bit differently from Kyra. I thought the main issue was: would Jamie be seduced by Gerald into using his magic? And, if he was, would he be able to find a way to use magic for good, or is it always corrupting? That, to me, was the driving tension of the plot - Jamie's struggle with his magic, and Mae's struggle to protect him from the magicians. And I found it interesting.

Although I feel like I'm dancing around a live wire in even bringing it up again, as a white person, I'd be scared to do what Sarah Rees Brennan is attempting, and to write from the POV of a young woman of color in real, modern-day England. In a fantasy world, it's not so intimidating. But in a real-world setting, I'd be terrified to get it wrong - what do I know about being a person of color in England or America? Being an outsider - yes, I understand that. But what are the limits of imagination? Do I, as a white person, have any right to attempt to write from the viewpoint of a person of color? Especially when there are so many fine writers of color who cannot get the buzz that white writers get? As a writer, I do think I have an obligation to present the world honestly, and that definitely includes having varied casts in my stories. As a reader, I have an obligation to read actively and intelligently. As a librarian, I have an obligation to support and promote good writers of all types, and to aim for diversity on my shelves. I do take my obligations seriously. Sorry if I sound defensive here! As I said, I'm feeling a bit attacked, and I really didn't mean to say anything offensive. I apologize if I have given offense, nonetheless.

But - although I can see where Kyra was coming from in the original post, I do actually like Brennan's books so far. The questions Kyra has raised, and which others here have elaborated on, are good and valid, but, as I've said, I'm waiting to see how she completes her trilogy before judging it. After all, if Rowling had stopped her series with OOTP, I would have been convinced it was a good set of books. Even HBP didn't disabuse me of my love for the books entirely; it took DH to disenchant me and break my heart. It was only after the last book had been finished that I had all the information I needed to judge the series as a whole. I'm still a pretty optimistic reader, I guess, and I'm hoping Brennan won't disappoint me as Rowling did.

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at 17:44 on 2010-09-14

I do agree with you about Nick, but I think the so-called lack of emotion isn't really such; Nick has lots of emotions. It's just that they are mostly what we would call negative - rage, frustration, etc. But he is capable of what we (or more accurately, I) would call positive emotions, as well. It's going to be interesting to see what happens to him in the final book.

This is kind of what I mean about the magical system not hanging together -- as presented so far, this feels like cheating, to me. I want more clarification as to what the source of emotion is in her mythos, so that the scenes of emoting don't feel so convenient. I don't want "It was inside him all along." That would destroy the 1st book's twist. (Although, if SRB chooses to pull something in the final book like “Alan gave Nick a part of his human soul through being so loving, and changed Nick’s essential nature while they were kids”...I might buy it. I disliked “Lexicon” until the final twist convinced me that there was some real brilliance in it, so I’m willing to hold out. And SRB has earned huge amounts of leeway from me for her depictions of Pansy Parkinson. She rounded out, redeemed, and made pretty feminist a character created to be Rowling's buttmonkey, in my opinion.)

@Kyra: Thanks for clarifying about Jamie and Sin, re: tokenism. Sin is definitely a hard character to get a handle on this time around. (In Lexicon, I found the *majority* of the cast difficult to get a handle on -- their quip-ful conversations really got in my way -- so I hope that’s reason to believe there will be more to Sin in the third volume). I liked Jamie, but 1) a lot of that is because I like SRB, and I *did* see a lot of authorial-insertiness about him (he also has a great many of the qualities of her version of Draco, but with less of the overt strength and anger), and 2) I remember having been an embarrassingly zealous Minority Warrior for gay rights in my early twenties, and have since erred on the side deferring to the more knowledgeable and keeping quiet. I’m also trying to navigate writing gay characters properly in my own fiction, so...yeah. Shutting up and learning from others now. And I will definitely look into this Bartimaeus business. :-)

And that segues into Stan’s post -- this is so very difficult to tell without seeing the writing in question. As I said above: To me, it’s less about topic or method and more about skill of execution. You should have beta readers, and some of them should of the groups you’re dealing with, or as close as possible (and even that *will not be foolproof* for all readers). If you don’t have such betas IRL, get hold of willing and trusted Internet ones. Your heart’s in the right place, but you shouldn’t take chances. There WILL be small but telling things, and you WILL miss them unaided (because what reason would you have had in your life to know them?), and readers from those groups will notice and be annoyed. Betas. Get 'em. But don’t assume that just because a person is from the group(s) in question that they have the time or inclination to educate you. Get someone enthusiastic, and choose carefully and respectfully.

And I agree with everything Daniel just said.

But it is interesting that, as far as I can remember, no one considered Sarah Rees Brennan racist when reviewing "The Demon's Lexicon".

@Mary — I don’t think anyone is calling SRB (or you) a capital-R racist NOW. We’re giving the “R-word” too much power in this conversation now, I think, which is distracting: SRB’s character isn’t the issue. It’s not about attacking any individual -- you or Sarah. But racism permeates our culture, and sometimes it will manifest in us. Privilege also exists and will manifest. This is not something we can help. This doesn’t mean that anybody is an evil, irredeemable person, or that liking the books makes you terrible. (Wanna know something awful? I liked “300.” And that shite was “problematic” up, down, left, right, and backwards. Racist, *heinously* ableist, *laughably* homophobic considering the people it depicted -- all kinds of crap. There now. I’ve ruined my fledgling reputation already. In my shallow defense, I thought the creators were being more tongue-in-cheek than they really were).

But it does mean that we need to be constantly aware and vigilant of the problems and possible problems that exist, and how to deal with them. And I don’t think anyone has written off the upcoming third book. Try to look at this theoretically, not as personal attack?

SRB has proven herself a strong and resilient young woman, and she has lots of support. I think she’ll be fine and can deal with the fact that there are people who take issue with her work (as there are people who will take issue with any work; nothing’s perfect). And you should write what you feel passionate about -- but writing in public is an act of self-exposure and requires bravery.

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Dan H

at 18:47 on 2010-09-14

Wanna know something awful? I liked “300.” And that shite was “problematic” up, down, left, right, and backwards. Racist, *heinously* ableist, *laughably* homophobic considering the people it depicted -- all kinds of crap. There now. I’ve ruined my fledgling reputation already. In my shallow defense, I thought the creators were being more tongue-in-cheek than they really were

I think you have, in fact, ruined your FerretBrain cred forever.

My favourite comments on 300 have been from my Iranian students. Highlights include: "In my country ... we do not have ninjas" and "We remember Xerxes as a great man. He was not a Gay!"

The latter comment highlights another interesting point about this kind of thing, which is that a person can be offended by something while themselves being *quite offensive*.

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at 19:41 on 2010-09-14

I think you have, in fact, ruined your FerretBrain cred forever.

I know, I know. I am duly ashamed.

I was watching it with a bona fide history professor, at midnight, and we sat there going "La la la, swordy things, la la la, loinclothery, la la la, anachronistic rock music, whoo-HOO, half-naked acrobatics, and hey, isn't that the hot skinny demon guy from 'Hex' -- hey wait, did he just diss ATHENIANS for sleeping with boys?" And then it occurred to us that the rest of the theater wasn't reacting the same way, as in, no, that line was not coming across as hypocrisy, it was coming off as "time to giggle at the gay now". And then there were more things (like "holy shit, did they just VALIDATE throwing babies away??"). And then the lack of irony slowly dawned on me. Much too slowly, really. As in, not before I left the theater. Don't know what to say about that, I had thought I was more astute. And then I read the source comic. (I had not been familiar with Frank Miller before.)

I was also overly impressed that the film acknowledged that black people were around and involved in classical antiquity. Except, you know, then the beheadings and Unfortunate Implications and oh god I'm sorry I'm sorry...

(It's all...yeah, I don't know. I especially don't know what to say about the roars of theater laughter when the head flew through the air. This was, um, not a white theater, shall we say. Things are complicated. I think a lot of the audience were appreciating it as though it were a horror movie.)

a person can be offended by something while themselves being *quite offensive*.

Too true. :-)

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Jamie Johnston

at 16:49 on 2010-09-19Just caught up on this discussion. It was interesting! I have nothing to add to it! This comment may be pointless and excessively exclamatory!

Hi to Cammalot & 3stan, neither of whom I've seen around here before (as far as I remember).

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Montavilla

at 20:55 on 2010-09-28Coming to the discussion late, as I am wont to do.

Wow. This is a great discussion about writing different cultures from your own -- whether race, sexual orientation, so on. I really love how honest people are being about difficult it is to approach racial and cultural inclusion.

Long ago and far away, I edited children's reading textbooks and believe me, inclusion was a major consideration. Along with deleting any possible objectionable material, which makes for great stories. True one: I once as a joke scared my supervising editor by suggesting the team names in a story ("red" and "blue") might cause parents to think we were promoting Communism. She nearly fainted.

Anyway, we were tasked with making sure that the depiction of minority/majority race characters matched the current American demographic breakdown: 16% black, 12% Latino, 6% Asian, 2% Native American, 2% physically challenged, 2% "other." Since we were trying to use as much pre-published material as possible (as opposed to commissioned writing), we ended up changing race/gender in many cases. We also specced artwork to include crowds of racially diverse people whenever possible. Then we had to go back and actually count heads in order to justify the inclusion.

It was all very silly and artificial, but it did have the virtue of showing kids a world where not everyone looks the same. And the California State Board of Education eventually got savvier and started demanding that we follow a demographic breakdown of writers and illustrators, instead of making Ramona Quimby Hispanic. :)

As a writer, I do think about trying to include more diversity in characters. But it intimidates me at the same time. My racial heritage is Italian, Filipino, and Spanish-American. But I don't know diddly about any of those cultures, really. For me to write about a Filipina character would be as inauthentic as my writing about an Iranian woman. But I think I have to try. My only other choice is to set everything in a fantasy world where any real world culture doesn't apply. And don't think I haven't thought about it.

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Cammalot

at 17:03 on 2011-07-12RE: The Demon's Surrender, the last book in this trilogy -- Based on the first few bits... I really wish Brennan had been writing from Sin’s POV all along. I’m much more immediately sucked in, this time.

(Heh. She is also

much more obviously black/biracial now

. Thank you, British bookbinder.)

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Kat S

at 09:40 on 2011-07-18@Cammalot: The UK Cover of Surrender with Sin in front bothers me. It bothers me a lot. It is not in the same style at all as the previous two covers. When you line up the books, Surrender is a different size and the spine lettering is arranged differently. They did just about everything possible to make the book about the PoC look like if it was from a different series.

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Cammalot

at 21:03 on 2011-07-18Hmm. It’s food for thought.

I know that there’s been a shift across the board toward more photographic-looking covers (the background skyline still seems similar, though also converted to more photo style, as is the saturated color and the backdrop-to-face size ratio. I don’t have a copy in hand yet, and have refused to buy the US versions. I can’t stand the US covers. Everyone looks stiff and mannequinlike, and Sin is whitewashed. And aged way up).

I can only guess at the rest, though. It’s weird.

I tend to hate it in general when the look of a series changes midway, and it’s been happening more and more lately. Busting out with much-pricier hardcovers to capitalize on a heretofore paperback series’ steady sales, and thus upping the per unit price by almost double, or more than double in some cases, that sort of thing. I’ve begun waiting up to two years for paperbacks to come out in order to have consistency — among them Simon R. Green, Patricia Briggs, and Jim Butcher (Yes I read some fluff. More important, I can wait a very long time to read fluff, there are other piles o’ books on my poor floor waiting for me, I will not be suckered in. ;-D). Similar happened with the “Monster-Ink Tattoo” series, and Patricia Bray’s books went from trade to hc too, I believe.

As I said, I don’t have a copy in hand yet. Have you got the hardcover? Is there a trade paper even out yet? Is your copy larger or smaller than previous?

This complicates things in my mind, but in a weird way. Publishers are driven by the desire to make cash. And they tend to think in very short and direct ways about it. (This cover sold well last week, let’s imitate it fortyfold, right this instant! Or, more annoyingly: This did not sell a million copies instantaneously, let us never do anything like it again! This is exaggeration on my part, but you get me. That last mentality has especially hurt books about girls and people of color.)

The photographic thing is a definite trend right now and supposed to up sales; this, I am sure, is the thinking, from what I’ve observed. (I’m in publishing. Sadly, never in a Big Decider capacity so far.) I’m kind of surprised they didn’t go that route on the first two. That plus the size change (opposite of what I would expect if they were trying play down the non-white angle) might make me think they want to call even more attention to it...so perhaps the previous two were not selling very well? (Based on what I see on chain-store bookshelves here, what’s actually on the floor displays and what’s even kept in stock, I would tend to believe this: I’m not seeing her on the shelves. Her series has to be doing well enough for them to let her try another -- unrelated -- book, but I don’t know that it’s a blockbuster.)

Increasing the size of this last book to hardcover might say to me that sales *are* going well, and they expect to shift just as many twice-the-price hardcover copies as they did cheaper paperback ones, and will likely even re-release previous entries in the series as hardcovers if the sales on this one hold steady. (Jim Butcher had a similar mid-series redesign, and hc versions of older books are being released. Briggs has had the hc re-release without the redesign, possibly because her books started out with semi-realistic pics of people to start with.)

Smaller size, on the other hand, might say they want to lower the price in order to sell more, possibly because the previous ones did not do as well as they’d hoped. (In this case, though, I would not expect them to put a person of color, and a girl, on the front.)

Either way, change says, to me, an attempt to get more attention.

Now, if they specifically want to CAPITALIZE on the non-white angle (as opposed to thinking “Well, this is surefire and will sell either way, so let’s take an easy risk and put a biracial girl on the front” -- I can’t imagine they’re thinking the third option: “Let’s put a person of color on the front and then downplay everything so no one will notice the book to buy it, and also let’s confuse and misdirect existing fans”) -- If they think a larger size and a brown face is going to move more copies or attract new buyers -- well I say go for it. I feel very mercenary about that. I’d like it if there were more of that sort of opinion happening in the States.

All this, of course, with the caveat that I am not British and so can’t claim insider knowledge of what might drive the British/UK publishing mind-set on the issue.

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Kat S

at 15:57 on 2011-07-19The trend of photographic-looking covers was already on-going when the publishers produced the first two books. As for capitalizing on Sin's PoC-ness, they could have done that without completely changing the style of the covers. Frankly, I doubt it. The changes in Demon's Surrender versus the other books is too close to the way "Urban" romances are usually packaged by publishers.

Not sure how I gave the impression that the size was increased to hard-cover. Demon's Surrender is in paper-back.

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Cammalot

at 19:27 on 2011-07-19You wrote:

Surrender is a different size

I couldn't tell from that wording in what way it was different -- bigger or smaller. (Thank you for clarifying.) On the webpage with the cover version we are discussing, Bookdepository.co.uk has it listed as available in a hardcover edition and a paperback. (The hardcover could actually refer to the U.S. edition, but I find the setup ambiguous.)

Yes, the trend towards more photographic covers has been around for a while, but 1. it hasn't been anything near universal even for North American books and would not necessarily have affected any one particular book we could select; 2. it hasn't been pushed quite as much in the U.K. (Google the original British covers for Melissa Marr, Stephanie Meyer, Rachel Caine, and so on); and 3. it is still trending. In my experience, at least for the past decade or so (possibly before that), British books have tended far more towards the artsy covers than towards the more full and/or photorealistic human representation that U.S covers were going for, especially in fantasy. It's still more or less down to editorial/marketing whim, and still doesn't really tell me anything.

That cover is the British version, and I don't know that "Urban" fiction is that big a genre or a draw in Britain. I would posit that it isn't, just because in my experience of the “Urban” genre as it is (euphemistically) defined here, it has been wildly,

intensely

, and kind of annoyingly) U.S.-centric, and because I haven't seen those marketing categories delineated in the U.K. in the same way they are in the U.S.

at all

. They do not divide up their shelves of genres in stores in the same way; particularly, they haven't, in my experience, been separating out "'urban'-aka-'black'-books" from other types of fiction in the way our "African American interest" sections do, but integrate their authors of various colors onto shelves by topic and subject matter, not ethnicity.

But, y'know, I wouldn't swear to it, since I haven't been there since '09. It could be a new thing. They seem to have a thing called

street fiction

. But not much of it expressly delineated as such, and still, the covers...

do not look like that

. Codes and subtexts are not the same for the two markets.

"Surrender's" differences from the previous two are not striking to me. Spine text is not a large enough indicator -- variations in spine text happen frequently with all sorts of series. The face on the cover, though photographic, is positioned in the same place and at a similar angle and size relative to background to the previous two (though more of her face is showing), and like the other two, does not involve her body. The background, though also more photographic, employs the same shading as the second book (indicating a progression of artistic vision, to me). The cracked-letter effect in the cover font is identical on all three, and in the same place. The author blurbs are also positioned in the same place across the board.

(I also think that there's too much fire in the background of "Surrender" [indicating subject matter larger in scope and apocalyptic than the usual plot of the "Urban" stuff I've come in contact with] and not enough of the young woman's breasts are on display, nor is she positioned "tough-ly" enough, for me to mistake if for Urb-Lit or Urb-Rom.)

Sizing also doesn’t tell me much, as it is not unique to this series and is far more often an indicator of either financial concerns (cost of physical paper fluctuates and has been going up for some time now -- some hardcovers have leaped to nearly $27 from $22 in just the past five years and non-genre authors are under a great deal of pressure to keep their novels to 300 pages or less), or perhaps an overall push to make paperback sizes more uniform. A quick Google tells me paperback sizes across the board have been in flux both in the U.S. and the U.K.

since at least around 2008/2009

. (As Brennan’s book hit shelves in mid-2009, most of the plans concerning its manufacture and release would have been well underway anywhere from 2 to 4 years before that, and the size change could easily have simply missed those first two.)

I'm just not seeing the publishers doing "everything possible" to make the book look like some other series. It doesn't exactly match, true, but this is not unique to this series or to books with women of color on them, and it seems to me that many elements were intentionally retained (I'm looking at Amazon UK right now) in order to link this book to its predecessors. I believe a redesign was intentional, yes, but I can easily see this new full-face style as an improvement, and --*if* the books sell well enough to go to a subsequent printing -- I would not be surprised to see the other two altered to match this one.

Further, I haven't seen any big push to masquerade books as more U.S-esque "Urban" style in the U.K., even with those written by actual black British people: See

Katherine Bing

or

Mike Gayle

, and I'm sure others can be quick-searched. (The Mike Gayle covers have indeed been revamped -- those versions are not the ones I own, so there seems to have been ample time to take him more "Urban," but this is not the direction they went in.)

The two Urb-Rom imprints I worked for didn't have much of a footprint in the U.K. (that is to say, no corporate presence at all, but you can get books nearly anywhere nowadays what with the Internet), but I can only speak to what I know; some British people might have to weigh in on whether or not going "Urban" would be considered an intelligent marketing strategy in the U.K., especially for Y.A. It also does not seem plausible to me that the marketing team would take the very last book of a trilogy and purposefully disguise it as a new genre (especially in a country that genre is not native to or apparently very popular in) in hopes of drawing a whole new audience and abandoning the previous one.

This is not to say that British publishing doesn't have its own problems --

it does

. And I think your concern is valid. But at the moment, in the particular case of this book, I do not share the concern.

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Leia

at 09:28 on 2011-07-20The times I have noticed UK covers make changes, they tend to adapt the US covers. That's what happened with Twilight and the Cassandra Clare books. Spine text is a pretty big indicator when you line up the books side by side. Are there considerably more letters in "Surrender" than in "Covenant"?

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Cammalot

at 17:10 on 2011-07-20

Spine text is a pretty big indicator when you line up the books side by side.

But an indicator of what, exactly? Intentional genre and audience shift and exploitation, or general reconsideration of overall design? Reconsideration of overall design is a given, here; it was publically touted as such. They did in fact reconsider the design, and took it in a different direction -- that's not in dispute.

I'm simply not seeing how it's more likely that the

intent

of that new artistic direction would be to mimic "Urban Lit," a genre for which I have seen no evidence of popularity in the U.K.; a genre which is extremely U.S.-centric and reliant on U.S. tropes, codes, and cultural signifiers; a genre that a great many British blacks (who are predominantly of direct-African and Caribbean descent) would be far less likely to relate to, understand, or drawn to purchase. Nor do I see how it would make sense to hype such a thing in the U.K. Instead of the U.S., or to trust such a thing to generate any hype. (Unless the thinking here is that they’re trying to get the book to fail?)

For my own, personal self, I am very,

extremely

wary and distrustful of overextending/overattributing U.S. mindsets to people it has no reason to apply to. We do this all too often, us Americans (in all our ethnic variety), and it gives us an inaccurate and offensive understanding of other people. I am speaking for myself here, and not assuming U.S-ness in anyone else.

There are a vast number of books being published every year in the UK, many of which go to multiple printings and show an evolution of cover design. A great many of these titles are never even available in the U.S. Often several versions of the cover art remain in print and available simultaneously. (For a very long time, they had both "regular" and "less-embarrassing, grown-up" covers available for the Harry Potter series in the U.K.) Saying that U.K. covers "tend" to adopt U.S. cover design, assigning this to an entire national industry, linking this phenomenon wholly to nothing but some attempt to copy America, is an extremely big and kind of presumptuous stretch, for me. (Not to mention there’s often a lot less “adoption” going on and a great deal more “importing the actual U.S.-produced physical product, because it costs less”.) Maybe for popular Y.A. American authors, they might -- it's far cheaper to “adopt” an existing design, after all, see parenthetical -- but I would hesitate very much to apply that reasoning in this particular case, when the U.S. cover actually features a red-headed white guy in an entirely different art style.

And it still bears noting that U.K. books, particularly in the genres in question, tend to start out more artsy and less photorealistic. (Sometimes they even have wholly different titles. It’s a different market — different things appeal.) I do indeed believe that with this particular book, this move to photorealism is an attempt to mimic the similar U.S. shift toward such trends

in Y.A.

, since these sorts of Y.A. covers have proven themselves more popular (for now) in the U.S. market. That’s business, especially when speaking in terms of specific titles, and it doesn’t always go in one direction either (see the U.S. habitually copying Japanese horror films, or remaking Britcoms, or the fact that we get any translated works here at all — they have to prove popularity at home first). But I'm still not seeing a shift to "Urban Lit" in this particular case, when this specific book by Brennan is not readily available (not without high shipping fees, or secondhand purchase, or knowing about Book Depository’s no-shipping-fees policy — basically, you have to seek this thing out) to the audience that would appreciate or buy Urban Lit.

Sophia McDougall’s (UK, not available in US) books got redesigned mid-series, just in time for the last book of the trilogy to arrive this summer — a much bigger redesign, with no art elements in common with the originals at all. Terry Prachett’s Discworld went through this several times, the UK versions shifting from something that resembled a Benny Hill chase scene to a woodcut-type design. Ian Rankin’s (UK, can’t really find it quite as readily in the US) mystery/crime series underwent a spontaneous size change in or around 2009. Over here, Kelly Armstrong’s latest Y.A. series went from a something with architecture on the front for the first novel to closeups of the lower half of a girl’s face for the second two, and moved from mass market to trade paperback. Octavia Butler’s books got reissued under several different covers; the Patternmaster series that I owned had similar cover designs but a font and paper texture change midway through (less gold-leaf). Then they all got re-released with photos on the covers. This happens with a large number of manga titles in the past few years (money matters, again, as “flipping” manga for Western ease of reading costs more). Ranma 1/2 got size switched (not an improvement, IMO; I stopped buying) without even the excuse of switching to right-to-left reading. Samuel Delany’s “Neveryon” series came out under a redesigned cover quite some years ago, and there has since been a push to re-realease a lot of his older works with covers that resemble those, particularly his literary and social theory. I'm looking at the spine text on Simon E. Green's "Nightside" series (US version) and his "Drood" series, lined up on my shelf, and there is a noticeable spine text shift, particularly on the seventh Nightside one. (I actually think the text shift is very unattractive.) This doesn't, however, say "rebranding" to me. Fans of Green can still read his name very clearly and locate the book, even when only placed spine-out on the shelves. Fans of Jim Butcher were similarly not much deterred when his books stopped looking this way and started looking like this, and then gained nearly an inch in height (and a dollar and change in price).

And if we haven’t seen this happening as much with people of color on the covers, surely we must take into consideration hat getting people of color onto the cover of “mainstream” books has been and still is still a big huge fight, so no, we

wouldn’t

have seen that happening as much, but that was BAD.

Redesigns take place primarily for economic reasons, and the direction those redesigns take come with all sorts of rationales, most of which lead back to “we want more money out of this.” (Unless it’s “We can’t afford to do this anymore, how can we cut corners.” Which is more or less the same thing.) All too often this rush to the cash leads to oversimplified, racist, and other socially problematic decisions, yes. But I am not, in this case, convinced that a British publisher would have any sane reason to cynically target what we know as the “Urban Lit” audience with a book meant for release in the U.K., nor am I convinced it would be a sound financial decision for them. It just doesn’t make any sense to me at all.

I am not willing to outright go: “They don’t have Urban Lit in the United Kingdom, or indeed outside the U.S. much,” but searching for “urban fiction” on Amazon.co.uk gives me this:

http://tinyurl.com/3gjp8oq

An “Urban Lit” search leads off with “urban fantasy/paranormal romance” titles and rounds off with books from America and books on city planning:

http://tinyurl.com/3nd54zn

Searching for “street fiction” gives me this:

http://tinyurl.com/4xf895g

And “street lit”:

http://tinyurl.com/3fvrer4

— again, the one fiction book on that page that fits the bill is an U.S. book. Not even a re-covered Brit version of a U.S. book — the U.S. version. (The major-player publishers of Urban Lit are a very rare thing -- independent publishers -- and they do not have international presence, as I said before. Which is cool, in its way— they haven’t been snapped up by conglomerates.)

And only searching for both together gives me some semblance of the very, extremely US-spawned and US-centric genre that we are speaking of.

The codes and tropes and shorthands are simply not identical. We are both part of the “Anglosphere,” and so the codes and tropes and shorthands are not fully foreign or impenetrable, but they are also not the same.

Now, what’s INSIDE the book is a different matter, and frankly I am filled with a great deal of trepidation about that. But I need to finish it first.

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Cammalot

at 17:17 on 2011-07-20Arrgh. Dropped two links.

Old Jim Butcher:

http://tinyurl.com/3fdjgmy

New Jim Butcher:

http://tinyurl.com/3wfp5sd

And for comparison, Brit Jim Butcher:

http://tinyurl.com/3clzw7s

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Cammalot

at 17:50 on 2011-07-20Completely irrelevant, but eye-catching:

http://www.amazon.fr/Furie-du-Curseur-Jim-Butcher/dp/2352944600/ref=pd_rhf_shvl_2

http://www.amazon.fr/Dossiers-Dresden-F%C3%A9e-dhiver/dp/2811203427/ref=sr_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1311180535&sr=1-5

(none of these referrings I'm doing should be considered any particular endorsement, by the way)

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Cammalot

at 19:17 on 2011-07-20Last edit for a bit: "and then gained nearly an inch in height (and a dollar and change in price)." should be "nearly half an inch."

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Leia

at 06:31 on 2011-07-21

Saying that U.K. covers "tend" to adopt U.S. cover design, assigning this to an entire national industry, linking this phenomenon wholly to nothing but some attempt to copy America, is an extremely big and kind of presumptuous stretch, for me.

I said the times *I* have noticed... You clearly know more about this than I do. For the record, I'm not a, American or b, inclined to go witch-racist hunting for the fun of it. And maybe you didn't mean it but the tone of your responses is border-line implying that. Bottom line: I don't have a bone in this and I'm just going to bow out of this conversation right now.

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Wardog

at 09:57 on 2011-07-21I'm sure nobody intended to suggest that you were witch-hunting - I think we've just hit on a topic which overlaps with Cammalot's professional experience.

I hadn't given much thought to this at all, to be honest, so I actually found this discussion really interesting. I remember feeling broadly positive about the UK covers of Lexicon and Covenant - I liked the stylised, slightly impressionistic art style for the characters (better for Lexicon than Covenant, though, Nick was very characterful, whereas Mae just looked like a girl with funny coloured hair). But equally I can see why you might have wanted Sin to look more "realistic", otherwise you've got a cover with an artist's impression of a black girl on the front. I think in this instance UK did way better than US, since I believe the US got a pouting pretty boy against an orange explosion? I do think replicates the major features of the previous covers, though - even if the artwork has changed. However, I do agree with Cammalot that the covers have enough stylistic elements in common (positioning, text style, etc) to seem to be recognizably connected to me. I certainly didn't see any attempt to distance Surrender from the other two books, because it has a POC on the front, or to make it look like another "type" of book.

And for the record, I know bugger all about this, so I could be talking out of my arse.

They do not divide up their shelves of genres in stores in the same way; particularly, they haven't, in my experience, been separating out "'urban'-aka-'black'-books" from other types of fiction in the way our "African American interest" sections do, but integrate their authors of various colors onto shelves by topic and subject matter, not ethnicity.

I do most of my book shopping online these days, but I have never seen anything like this in a British bookshop. You occasionally get "hey, read these books about black people!" displays but as a general rule you just get fiction, sci/fi fantasy, comics, crime, classic fiction, romance if you're very lucky and that's about it. The two genre emergences I've seen in the last few years have been "dark fantasy" and "young adult" - and I remember how tiny-mind-blown Arthur was the first time he saw a dark fantasy section in a bookshop. This being so, I can't imagine "urban" taking off any time soon, with relation to either adult or young adult fiction. But, as I say, that's an impression constructed from a position of absolute ignorance.

I haven't read this either, by the way - I am curious though. But it suddenly stopped being available on Kindle. MYSTERY!

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Arthur B

at 10:21 on 2011-07-21I admit to not really going out of my way to look for any, but the only time I've seen an "urban" fiction book in a UK bookshop it's been a lonely novel by 50 Cent crammed into the Crime/Thrillers section.

Oh, and if I'm remembering right it was a US import. I guess they bought it in due to the name recognition or something.

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Cammalot

at 15:04 on 2011-07-21I was in fact trying to be quite careful about assuming anyone else’s nationality when I said

"For my own, personal self, I am very, extremely wary and distrustful of overextending/overattributing U.S. mindsets to people it has no reason to apply to. We do this all too often, us Americans (in all our ethnic variety), and it gives us an inaccurate and offensive understanding of other people. I am speaking for myself here, and not assuming U.S-ness in anyone else."

However, in retrospect, I guess I used some pretty nonstandard grammar and orthography in there. :-)

This topic does ping on... nearly every aspect of me, really: For the record, I am a combo of a few ethnicities of black American; both the U.S. and the U.K. have played large roles in my educational and professional life; and I've worked in publishing for most of my adult life, although I promise to stop that fairly soon; and I have a

serious problem

with Urban Lit. I am never sure how much I can express how very big and angry and depressing a beef I have with Urban Lit without impacting myself professionally, so I do try to keep it vague online. (But this is a fairly anonymous place, I think?)

And I can be a very longwinded pedant. I like to at least attempt to make sure my assertions are covered. I hope I’m not sounding too Minority Warrior. Can I even BE a Minority Warrior when talking about the UK??? :-)

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Sister Magpie

at 18:00 on 2011-07-21

I do think replicates the major features of the previous covers, though - even if the artwork has changed.

FWIW, I would probably be more likely to compare it to the second book in the US version, since that one has Sin on the cover. She's dancing in a ring of fire, iirc.

Oh, and if I'm remembering right it was a US import. I guess they bought it in due to the name recognition or something.

Do you mean this cover is an import? It's not. The UK has different covers than the US versions for all of them (the UK's are better imo)--and I don't think the UK is publishing them for name recognition. It's a first novel series in both markets published at the same time.

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Cammalot

at 18:17 on 2011-07-21I think Arthur meant his Fitty-Cent book was an import. :-)

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Arthur B

at 18:48 on 2011-07-21That's exactly what I was saying. :)

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Sister Magpie

at 20:24 on 2011-07-21Ah! Now that I read it again that's obviously what you were saying. I think I ran several posts together in my head!

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Leia

at 08:29 on 2011-07-22@Cammalot: Sorry for jumping to conclusions there. I think I was projecting a little: just out of a conversation with someone about how the casting of the Prince of Persia wasn't in the least bit racist, at all.. *le sigh*

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Cammalot

at 17:17 on 2011-07-22@Leia -- Not at all, and rereading my thing I just want to make clear that I

do

think your and Kat’s question is an important thing to think about and ask, and keep asking, even though I don’t think it applies here specifically. There are a host of underlying daily frustrations and problems with publishing as an industry. When I said things like “not logical” I was talking about hypothetical British top-editors and marketers, not you guys.

(Actually I’m making assumptions by saying your question was the same as Kat’s; please correct me if I’m wrong.)

I’m sorry you had to deal with such a ninny. My own feelings on PoP are convoluted, filled with caveats, and pretty tl;dr (this is probably not surprising, by now ;-D), but it’s pretty ridiculous not to concede that they could easily have been much more inclusive.

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Robinson L

at 18:02 on 2012-04-16Warning: extremely long and probably ramble-y comment.

In response to the article, I find it pretty amusing that what

I interpreted

as "cool and intense character development," you interpreted as "nothing happens until the final thirty pages."

I'm also amused that what I read as really sweet fraternal affection between Alan and Nick, you read as blatant slashing.

Dan Ryves' journal struck me as stupid and artificial at first, and I suppose it was mostly just a lot of padding. But I did warm up to it by the end.

I'm ashamed to say I sort of missed Alan's creepiness when I read the book. I might have missed his assholishness too, had Rees Brennan not explicitly pointed it out a few times, as discussed in my review.

By now, I've also read

The Demon's Surrender

, and I think what Rees Brennan did with the Alan/Sin romance was pretty interesting. Granted, there were things about it which bugged the crap out of me (about which more later), but all through the first two books, he's like this untouchable master manipulator who can deceive absolutely anybody. Whereas in the third book, we see that he has limits, and he's not able to deceive people whose life circumstances also require that they be skilled at manipulation. (In this case, the metaphor is that of a performance, because it's from Sin's viewpoint and she's a performer.) The implication to me being that the only way Alan will be able to have a happy functional relationship is if his romantic partner is someone who can see through his subterfuges. Which I think is pretty neat.

I'm pretty sure

Surrender

has a call-back to that creepy line of Alan's: "Of all the girls I ever saw I dreamed of you the most." I don't have the book to hand, but I'm almost certain in

Surrender

, Alan tells Sin that he never dreamed about her because she was too unobtainable. I wish I'd been paying more attention when I read that line, because now I think about it, depending on the context, it could have been a really creepy pedestal line.

I'm so relieved that you liked Mae, though, because I really, really liked her in

Covenant

.

with Jamie being passed about like the magical McGuffin he so clearly is

I find this interesting in light of the fact that he also reads to you like a self-insert character. I'm trying to figure out what to make of that dynamic.

Interesting analysis of the whole self-sacrifice motif – something else I failed to pick up on at the time.

Re: Annabel

Kat Sullivan: She reminds me of Spock's mother in the 2009 movie: she appears in the story just long enough for her to have a Meaningful Death for the benefit of her children's own story.

Yikes, I wouldn't go that far. I mean, the portrayal of Spock's mother is probably one of my biggest personal irritants from Star Trek|| because she was blatantly there for no reason other than to get stuffed into the fridge and further Spock's storyline. If you took that aspect of her out of the movie, she wouldn't have had any reason for existing in it.

Whereas Annabel, apart from being awesome, had her own nice little character arc, and played a part in other characters' story arcs which went beyond passively providing motivation. You could remove her death from the story and her presence in it would still have meaning and purpose. (To be honest, I didn't pick up on the whole fridging angle until I read this.)

And continuing the theme of Stuff Robinson totally didn't notice until someone pointed it out, the only person of color in the first two books (Sin) is exoticized and a dancer (though not an exotic dancer). And the "let's bring in a white girl to take over instead of her" aspect (ick). I didn't so much mind the "two women vying over leadership of the Market" scenario at the end of this book, but that was partially because I didn't realize what a large role it would play in

The Demon's Surrender

. (To be fair to Rees Brennan, it was significantly less terrible than it might've been, but it still wasn't pretty.)

Cammalot: I’m going to be a be anti-Barthian and resurrect The Author

I'm going out on a tangent to gush about how much I adore this wording; lovely. And only slightly more on-topic, I think in this post-TeXt Factor Season 2 world, citing the Author in this manner is entirely reasonable. (I'm thinking about how much people's perceptions of "The Host" were filtered by the knowledge that it was written by Stephenie Meyer).

Maybe it's better at this point to go bigger with it, especially for minor characters? It's unwieldy to say "The East Asian girl at the corner table," but it might just be what needs to be done.

Maybe so. Unfortunately, this

still

doesn't work if you're trying to write far-future or alternate world speculative fiction (like I am. Still haven't entirely figured out a solution yet).

and for a preternaturally emotionless guy, Nick seems to be emoting left and right. (Which for me raises an interesting question — how clueless can you honestly be about human emotions and still manage to always be bitingly quippy? Can you *be * humorous, on purpose, if you don’t have emotions?)

The part which always strains my suspension of disbelief is how, as a demon who finds human speech difficult, he's incapable of telling a lie, but is completely comfortable dishing out sarcasm. The characters even lampshade it in this book, but Rees Brennan never explains how it's supposed to work.

Kyra: I will second the recommendation of the Bartimaeus Trilogy - I LOVED those.

I'll throw in on this one, too; great trilogy. The more recent installment,

Solomon's Ring

is somewhat weaker, but still very enjoyable, and the title character at least is entertaining as ever.

Dan: The question is not "is Sarah Rees Brennan a racist" it's "are people of colour underrepresented in Sarah Rees Brennan's imaginary world"

Superbly articulated as usual.

Mary J: That, to me, was the driving tension of the plot - Jamie's struggle with his magic, and Mae's struggle to protect him from the magicians. And I found it interesting.

I think that's more-or-less how I related to it, too.

Jamie: Just caught up on this discussion. It was interesting! I have nothing to add to it! This comment may be pointless and excessively exclamatory!

Out of curiosity, were you

trying

to imitate the “Jamie” from the books there? If so: good job!

Cammalot: I can’t stand the US covers. Everyone looks stiff and mannequinlike, and Sin is whitewashed. And aged way up

I read

Covenant

with the US cover and I missed that there was an age-up, but I couldn't for the life of me tell if the character on the cover was supposed to by a whitewashed Sin or a Mae with undyed hair. Answer: whitewashed Sin. Figures.

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Kat S

at 12:08 on 2012-06-25

The whole thing is incredibly colonialist, and indeed functions as a miniature of the colonial narrative: Mae, the rich, white foreigner comes in and revolutionizes a native's land with "superior" organization and technology. But it's all for the better, and the "native" (in this case, Sin) admits that, and eventually comes to support the usurper.

This is an excerpt from a review that pretty much highlighted every issue that I have with this book. The way Sin was portrayed in contrast to Mae sickened me at every turn.

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Wardog

at 12:40 on 2012-06-25I have the third book sitting in my tbr pile and I keep looking at it and making this face:

:/

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http://melaniedavidson.livejournal.com/

at 21:26 on 2012-06-25

...I’ve found that I much prefer to *not* see people like me in the books of authors who might not be able to pull it off properly. I’m not keen on the idea of reading practice-run depictions of people like me in the works of authors who are just learning how. It’s upsetting, not entertaining, and it’s gotten more upsetting as I get older and more exposed to subtler types of fail.

I know this is old (but recently commented-on! Who else watches the recent activity page?), but I feel pretty much the same way. I know there are good arguments on the other side*, but for my personal enjoyment I would MUCH rather read, e.g., a story which "just happens"** not to have any women in it, than one which is horrible and faily with its female characters.

*Like the "token x" thing being in some sense a step forward from an implied "x's just don't fucking exist". I guess I see it as being that they both fail, but in different ways, and it's legitimate for someone to be bothered more by one way than the other. I was going to also say something about it possibly being, for some authors, a step towards

actually

writing non-faily depictions (if they're doing it in good faith, I mean) and that they won't get there if they don't ever try, even if the trying itself can be pretty bad--but you're right; their "practice runs" don't need to be public.

**That's a little sarcastic because I don't really mean that I honestly think it

actually

just sort of happens by pure coincidence that a story is like that, but you see what I mean, right? In-universe there could be a plausible reason or it could be sort of coincidential, like being explicitly set in a single-gender environment, or your example of just small groups of characters which wouldn't necessarily be representative.

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Cammalot

at 01:48 on 2012-06-26

And the "let's bring in a white girl to take over instead of her" aspect (ick). I didn't so much mind the "two women vying over leadership of the Market" scenario at the end of this book, but that was partially because I didn't realize what a large role it would play in The Demon's Surrender. (To be fair to Rees Brennan, it was significantly less terrible than it might've been, but it still wasn't pretty.)

Yeahhhhh... I did not like that at all. I did try to think well of it, as I liked much of what was done with the character beforehand (especially her mixed family, which is something I'm noticing a lot more in London now). But as the story veered more and more in that direction... It's like when you're used to driving on one side of the road, and you go off to a place where they drive on the opposite side, and you're sitting in what your lizard brain can't quite grasp is now the passenger's side, and you find yourself desperately trying to slam on the "brakes" to no avail...

I did NOT want it to go there. And then I hoped it might be going there in a different way... but no.

Also, thank you, Robinson.

@ Melanie -- yes! Ha ha -- this is why I try not to be too harsh on fanfiction. Practice does need to happen. (Of course, I also tend to avoid fanfiction -- some, not all -- so that might not be saying much, on my part.)

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Wardog

at 09:37 on 2012-06-26Hmm... I'm not sure but I think one of the, ah, 'problems' with fanfic is that is not, and should not be perceived, as 'practice' for 'real' writing (sorry for all the scare quotes). I think it's an entirely different entity, written in a different way, with a different purpose, for a different audience. I tend to get a lizard brain effect when I'm reading published books by authors who are influential in (and influenced by) fandom - it's rather like tea from the nutrimatic machine, y'know, almost but completely unlike a book. To be fair to SRB she's made the transition better than others I've experienced (peers at Cassie Clare).

Also I'm not sure if fandom could be sensibly relied upon to be a sensible practice audience - in the post you linked to, there's a response from SRB in which she basically criticises fandom for only being interested in straight (?) white boys.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm not sure it is possible to practice run at these things. I mean if you 'practice' on yourself and your friends you'll just confirm your own prejudices and sit around congratulation yourself on your splendid portrayal of somebody who is not you.

On the other hand, published and be damned and upsetting a bunch of people doesn't seem a legitimate way forward either...

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http://fishinginthemud.livejournal.com/

at 10:19 on 2012-06-26The only thing I can imagine fanfic being good "practice" for might be some technical issue like writing reasonable-sounding dialogue for an established character or setting up a scene. If the tv-writing business were less impenetrable, a lot of fic writers would probably do much better as guest writers on long-running series than they would as novelists.

As far as creating original characters or coming up with plots that haven't been done to death, I think fanfic-writing probably does more harm than good. I think another of Rowling's many crimes is making hackery look easier than it is.

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Wardog

at 10:25 on 2012-06-26Yes! Hackery is a fine old art and should be treated with the respect it deserves! (and I mean that seriously).

Sorry to randomly bring up an old article written by me (!) but I remember trying to read

City of Bones

and being struck by how ... oddly it was constructed. I probably articulated it in a way that would enrage all fanfic writers everywhere but I found even the technicalities of it (the way characterisation worked, the dialogue) noticeably different from original fiction.

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Arthur B

at 10:48 on 2012-06-26Genuine question: could there be a publisher-side role in helping writers get the sort of practice we're talking about without necessarily unleashing harmfully offensive texts on the public? I mean, commercial publication via a publisher is more or less the only place where writers are obliged to hold to any standard other than their own whim; self-publishing and fanfic doesn't really have any filters that an author couldn't bypass when it comes to getting a text to market. If editors took it on themselves to say things like "Are you sure your portrayal of this character isn't problematic for X reasons?" alongside points like "This looks like a typo but I'm not sure what you intended with it" and "Hang on, isn't this a continuity error?" then at least

someone

is flagging areas for improvement before a text is finalised.

Then again, that'd rely on the editors themselves being clued-in sorts who by and large "get it", and the publishers being willing to hold a book back until the author gets it right. And we live in a world where publishers are willing to put out

The Straight Razor Cure

so clearly offensive handling of race isn't enough of a commercial liability to put them off provided that there's a genre audience that's willing to accept it.

So basically bad authorial habits + fandom of enablers = more fail to come. :(

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Sister Magpie

at 15:39 on 2012-06-26It's an interesting question, though isn't it, exactly how bad it is to recognize fanfic styles in an original work? Is it just jarring or actually bad? I mean, the CoB article imo does a great job in pointing out the ways it can be a problem (and I didn't take it as insulting to fanfic, but that's me), but otoh there's probably a lot of things in fanfic that aren't bad when done in original work because people enjoy them in fanfic and will also enjoy them in original fic.

Like the post above, I do think fanfic can be helpful in improving some things--any writing can be good practice. It's just that there are other things it's not going to teach you how to do, and it can also give you bad habits. At least some of the fanfic writers who have gone pro were *very* popular writing fanfic, and while there are a lot of dismissive reasons for why they were popular (right pairings, right friends etc.), I think part of it was that they were often doing things that a lot of fanficcers lack or ignore.

That is, just as one can read a novel and recognize a fanfic style, one can also be reading a fanfic and realize hold on, this person's actually writing fic like an original work, which can be great. Rare, but great.

I'm not even sure that fanfic is always a good starting point for writing for a series, actually. I've never really written much fanfic (I've done Yuletide twice now, but since that's a fest for small fandoms and a couple of the stories I did wouldn't even qualify as fanfic because of the source material), but I've done tie-in novels and I think they rely much more on the standard "pro-fic" model rather than fanfic. Not that one can't crossover--as at least some Star Trek fic authors did, of course. I don't make the distinction that notorious anti-fanfic author Lee Goldberg does b/w tie-ins and fanfic but most fanfic couldn't be a tie-in novel any more than it could be an original novel. When I read the Sarah Monette books they also seemed very heavily influenced by fanfic to me, yet I don't think she's ever written any. (She does read it, though, so it could still be there.)

Basically I'm just wondering about whether fanfic is fundamentally different from any other type of writing that can influence an author. Like, I've noticed that I'll pick up habits from different writing jobs. The magazine that I work for has a very specific style (a fiction style, that is) that I have to remind myself isn't the law.

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http://fishinginthemud.livejournal.com/

at 15:52 on 2012-06-26

Sorry to randomly bring up an old article written by me (!) but I remember trying to read City of Bones and being struck by how ... oddly it was constructed.

Yeah, I was actually thinking of that article. Like you said there, that stupid scene with the boy at the piano would have worked if he had been Draco Malfoy. If you have a reasonable idea of who a character is, or at least the fanon version of him, you can put words in his mouth and make him do things that feel authentic. That's why I think the skills used in fanfic would actually transfer to writing for established tv shows in a way that they absolutely don't transfer to writing novels. It's not that fanfic makes you better at writing original fiction, it's that it makes you better at writing fanfic.

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http://fishinginthemud.livejournal.com/

at 16:00 on 2012-06-26

I've done tie-in novels and I think they rely much more on the standard "pro-fic" model rather than fanfic.

I didn't know that, but that makes sense too. I'm thinking of the few really good tv-based fics I've read where the dialogue sounds like it could have been on the show itself, and I wonder why this person isn't writing for the show. But of course there are other issues involved in tv writing that I don't know anything about.

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Sister Magpie

at 16:11 on 2012-06-26

If you have a reasonable idea of who a character is, or at least the fanon version of him, you can put words in his mouth and make him do things that feel authentic.

Within reason. Because let's not forget that OOC! is a common criticism of fanfic. The Draco Malfoy discovered playing piano is, after all, often referred to as fanon!Draco for a reason. The key is to sit the sweet spot where you're revealing something new about the character that deepens them and feels authentic but also doesn't feel like shifting the gravity of the piece to revolve around how deep they are, or make the audience feel like you're just fangirling that character, which has certainly been known to happen too. If you start doing that you might get the same "it's like fanfic" criticism.

The CoB example, for instance, really brings up the conundrum. The reveal of the piano scene lacks something because it's not actually Draco. But was Draco in HP lacking something because he had no "piano scenes?" (He did have something close to one in the bathroom in HBP, but compared to the fanfic version that scene's cut brutally short and the emotional fallout immediately smothered. I admit I did find the canon version unsatisfying because it didn't follow through emotionally, but a full-out fanfic version would undoubtedly be out of place even without the porn!)

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http://fishinginthemud.livejournal.com/

at 16:48 on 2012-06-26Yeah, the piano scene fits Draco because it calls up the popular conception that he has a lonely inner life and a genuine but somewhat strained connection to his family and his upbringing. I think the suicide mission of HBP fulfills essentially the same purpose. At this point it's arguably moot what anyone thinks is in character for anyone in HP, but back in the day I found fanon!Draco a reasonable interpretation of the character, mostly because there was so little to him that pretty much anything would have fit.

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Cammalot

at 18:53 on 2012-06-26Kyra, I think I really, really need you to read book three. I find myself craving an article on it. :-)

in the post you linked to, there's a response from SRB

Please pardon my dumb -- can you point me to this? I've scrolled through several times and can't find this link.

My opinions on fanfic are complicated and changeable, and affected by the fact that I haven't been involved in it since about 1999, which was a bit pre-Livejournal and pre-Google and was indeed a time when you wrote the fic predominantly for your friends of like mind in "webcircles," and there was, for the longest, just one guy out there called "Minotaur" (now sadly deceased) who had a website "workshop" to teach people (mostly straight girls) how to write (gay) sex. It was not an enlightened time.

I agree that fanfic writing and fiction writing/novel writing are two different things and require significantly different skill sets. (The fanfiction skill set might overlap more with comic-book or television writing. Not necessarily with tie-in novels, as there's often a great deal of backstory creation and filling in internal-thoughtstream and motivational blanks going on there.) And proficiency at one doesn't mean proficiency at the other.

But it also looks to me, from the periphery, that in the fanfiction world of today, especially since the advent of more community-based (and less Geocities-esque) Livejournal-type sites and large fic archive-type places, there is a wider audience for it, more opportunity for feedback from people who don't know you, and more opportunities for education archived in the Wank blogs and fan history wikis and the various "Sue" and other critique (and snark) communities -- especially post Racefail.

So I'm thinking somewhat selfishly that if people are going to screw up, it might be best for them to do it there, under a pseudonym, in a place where I can comfort myself post-rage by saying, "Well, it's an amateur and at least they are not getting paid for this," or more likely, where I can avoid it entirely.

Also I'm not sure if fandom could be sensibly relied upon to be a sensible practice audience -- in the post you linked to, there's a response from SRB in which she basically criticises fandom for only being interested in straight (?) white boys.

I've read far too much critique of poor handling of characters of color in fiction to believe that fandom is [em]only[/em] interested in white boys. People are producing these versions of characters that are getting critiques. Overall, fandom might be [em]predominantly[/em] interested in straight white boys, but that is also true of the world at large (see the debacle over Rue in the Hunger Games). I feel like there is a growing movement to be inclusive and to get it right. Possibly not as large or as fast-growing as it could be. And there are still areas that need a lot more work having awareness raised than others -- awareness of racism far outstrips awareness of ablism, and acceptance of gayness is more prevalent and even more understood than issues of gender fluidity -- but [disclosure] I was born in the early 70s, so a lot of the progress I see around me looks HUGE.

So it might not be the best practice for excellent novel-writing skills, but overall, if done in public, I think it is at least starter practice for not pissing people off by being socially insensitive.

Tangentially, I saw a huge billboard covering the side of a bus for Cassie Claire's "Angel" series two days ago. I felt very resigned.

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Cammalot

at 19:12 on 2012-06-26(Correction -- not pre Google, but it was very new, and I hadn't heard of it when I sort of petered out of fandom. It was all "search.com.")

Oh, and I've got typos in my html. Darn...

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http://melaniedavidson.livejournal.com/

at 20:11 on 2012-06-26

Genuine question: could there be a publisher-side role in helping writers get the sort of practice we're talking about without necessarily unleashing harmfully offensive texts on the public?

That is more or less what I was thinking of when I said it didn't need to be public, actually--it is at least the publisher's/editor's job to make sure the book is up to standards and ready to be published (as opposed to it

not

being the job of all [insert group here] everywhere to have to educate authors about how not to fail miserably when writing about [insert group here]). But that's thinking ideally (well, sort of ideally--

ideally

the problem wouldn't exist!) and the practical problems are as you said.

But it also looks to me, from the periphery, that in the fanfiction world of today, especially since the advent of more community-based (and less Geocities-esque) Livejournal-type sites and large fic archive-type places, there is a wider audience for it, more opportunity for feedback from people who don't know you, and more opportunities for education archived in the Wank blogs and fan history wikis and the various "Sue" and other critique (and snark) communities -- especially post Racefail.

Yeah, it does seem that with fanfic there is a bit less distance between author and audience and possibly therefore a better chance that they will actually see that type of criticism (because it's more likely to be in the same actual community they're part of), either about their own work or about someone else's (as sometimes you see something someone

else

has done criticized and go, "oh shit, I've done that, too, time to stop").

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Cammalot

at 20:29 on 2012-06-26

Genuine question: could there be a publisher-side role in helping writers get the sort of practice we're talking about without necessarily unleashing harmfully offensive texts on the public?

I wonder about this a great deal.

On one hand, yes, they should. On the other, A) the primary goal of publishing corporations (maybe not academic presses, but they're included, to an extent) is to make money -- to find the hit that will appeal to large numbers of people and make the cash so they can stay in business, and B) the publishing industry seem to be very homogenous, to me -- a lot of the individual editors mean *very* well but might not *know* what they're looking for in order to correct it. I spent more of my time in magazines than in books, and so I'm sure my viewpoint is limited in that way, but I have also spent time as the Only Black in the Village attempting damage control at relatively late stages in the production process pointing out things that simply did not occur to my white colleagues. Also C) the people who are doing the hands-on selection of books aren't the corporate bigwigs who actually make the decisions that stick.

I have to sort that out in my head some more.

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Cammalot

at 20:46 on 2012-06-26(I forgot to disclaim I'm talking about the U.S., and the east coast U.S., for that matter.)

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Robinson L

at 22:02 on 2012-06-26You're welcome, Cammalot; I greatly appreciate getting your viewpoint on the issues on this thread.

Cammalot: Kyra, I think I really, really need you to read book three. I find myself craving an article on it. :-)

I'd like that, too. I've read

The Demon's Surrender

and I'd really like to see - and take part in - a discussion about it. I don't feel motivated to write a review myself (although I suppose I'm somewhat open to being badgered into it).

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Cammalot

at 02:38 on 2012-06-27*puppy eyes at Kyra*

I've read far too much critique of poor handling of characters of color in fiction to believe that fandom is [em]only[/em] interested in white boys. People are producing these versions of characters that are getting critiques.

CRIKEY. That was supposed to be "critique of poor handling of characters of color in "FANfiction." You know, I truly did do a preview...my screen is small... my dog ate my keyboard...

[plazaswanboats]

Book Review: Maps of the Disney Parks

It’s winter break, and I’ve neglected this blog for long enough! I’ve also never actually written a proper post on here, besides my intro post. I just finished reading through the book “Maps of the Disney Parks: Charting 60 Years from California to Shanghai” which came out a few months ago, and I thought a review/critique would be a decent post to write, while I constantly debate what to do with this blog. TL;DR- It was a disappointing book if you’re more than a casual Disney fan, and if you’re actually expecting maps from over the years with any sort of comprehensiveness. Also, if you want to see EPCOT maps, don’t waste money on this book. :(

So I asked for the book because I’m obsessed with Disney parks maps. I have a steadily growing collection (I pick up about 20 maps every time I go to the parks, which is probably a horrible habit), ranging from a first year EPCOT Center map to a comprehensive collection from 1999 to the present day. I recently bought boxes to put them all in, and my EPCOT box is already completely full. Maybe I’ll post the pictures of my collection sometime, from when I laid it all out last summer, but I digress.

When I heard about this book, it sounded like an amazing add to my Disney book collection. I love maps, and this book promised tons of them. Sadly, this brings me to my first issue with the book. The Amazon description wasn’t really accurate, leading me to believe it’d be a pretty comprehensive collection of maps from the 50s to the present, and also due to unclear phrasing, I was expecting a bunch of fold out maps (which, okay, may have been an unrealistic expectation). Basically, what I wanted was park guide maps through the years. Skimming through the Amazon reviews, it seems like I wasn’t the only person who was led to believe that.

The book had some maps, that’s for sure, but there was a hell of a lot of concept art, and very very few actual guide maps. That’s fine if you’re into that, but as a fan of parks history, I’m a little more interested in what was actually in the parks and how they showed it to guests on a map, not what they thought about putting into the parks in concept art. There was also a really weird distribution of maps. There were a ton of Disneyland maps, which was fun, and a ton of content for the overseas parks. Again, fine if you’re into it, but as someone who really only cares about the US parks, I kind of just flipped past those pages.

Weirdly, I felt like there just wasn’t a lot of content devoted to the WDW parks. Magic Kingdom got a fair amount of content, but....not that much compared to Disneyland and the overseas parks as a whole. EPCOT, the park I was really reading this book for (let’s be real), only got two maps. Two. And yet there were pages of in-ride maps (as in maps of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride path and stuff like that, for some reason, which was.....not that interesting) and maps of the water parks? I wasn’t really reading the book for Tom Sawyer’s Island. Hollywood Studios also only got one or two maps in the book, and I think Animal Kingdom only had a single piece of concept art (not that it was much of a loss from my point of view, since I don’t care too much about either of those parks). I was also curious that there were no maps of River Country, early Downtown Disney, or Discovery Island, when the book was so gung ho about including maps of other seemingly inessential things. So the book was majorly disappointing on the content front. The first thing I did when I got it was flip through to find the EPCOT maps, and was hugely let down when there was practically nothing.

I also didn’t like the format of the book. Some of the maps were reproduced in a much too small size, making it impossible to pick out details, which was basically the reason I wanted the book. In other sections, detail views of the maps were provided, but it was only ever a single zoomed in section of the entire map on the previous page, and it was rarely the section I would have actually liked to get a better view of. I’m going to need to find a magnifying glass, I guess? In addition, I was really disappointed at times, because the maps were occasionally overlaid with other images, blocking the text on the maps that I wanted to read.

The text of the book was also kind of a letdown. It didn’t really tell me anything I didn’t already know, and it honestly felt like I was being talked down to, like it was written for younger readers or something. Then again, I’m used to reading higher level analysis of the parks, so most Disney books don’t do it for me anymore. It wasn’t really all that devoted to talking about the actual maps, and was more of a cursory look at Disney history. It felt like the authors were trying to make the history to relate to maps; for example, the passage about Walt likely being a fan of maps was honestly kind of bizarre and forced. Other reviews on Amazon pointed out the lack of explanation for some of the maps, but overall, I didn’t find that to be that big of a deal since I’m well-versed in Disney history and could kind of figure it out for myself.

I definitely should have read the Amazon reviews before asking for this book for Christmas, but it’s still a nice looking addition to my collection. I’d hoped to be able to use it as an easy reference, but I doubt I’ll be opening it much. However, some of the content was cool- I’ve seen a few Fun Maps in the past, but I really liked seeing how those evolved over time, even if there were definitely gaping holes in the sequences of maps in general. Overall, a cool concept, but didn’t live up to what I (and apparently other reviewers) thought it would be.

And now I want to do my own series of essays on evolution of park maps, oops.