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coochiequeens · 2 years

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This is why we still need Women’s History Month.

By Martha Gill

What was life like for women in medieval times? “Awful” is the vague if definite answer that tends to spring to mind – but this is an assumption, and authors have been tackling it with new vigour.

The Once and Future Sex: Going Medieval on Women’s Roles in Society by Eleanor Janega, and The Wife of Bath: A Biography by Marion Turner both contend that women were not only bawdier but busier than we thought: they were brewers, blacksmiths, court poets, teachers, merchants, and master craftsmen, and they owned land too. A woman’s dowry, Janega writes, was often accompanied with firm instructions that property stay with her, regardless of what her husband wanted.

This feels like a new discovery. It isn’t, of course. Chaucer depicted many such cheerfully domineering women. The vellum letter-books of the City of London, in which the doings of the capital from 1275 to 1509 were scribbled, detail female barbers, apothecaries, armourers, shipwrights and tailors as a matter of course. While it is true that aristocratic women were considered drastically inferior to their male equivalents – traded as property and kept as ornaments – women of the lower orders lived, relatively, in a sort of rough and ready empowerment.

It was the Renaissance that vastly rolled back the rights of women. As economic power shifted, the emerging middle classes began aping their betters. They confined their women to the home, putting them at the financial mercy of men. Female religious power also dwindled. In the 13th century seeing visions and hearing voices might get a woman sainted; a hundred years later she’d more likely be burned at the stake.

“When it comes to the history of gender relations, storytellers portray women as more oppressed than they actually were”

Why does this feel like new information? Much of what we think we know about medieval times was invented by the Victorians, who had an artistic obsession with the period, and through poetry and endless retellings of the myth of King Arthur managed somehow to permanently infuse their own sexual politics into it. (Victorian women were in many respects more socially repressed than their 12th-century forebears.)

But modern storytellers are also guilty of sexist revisionism. We endlessly retread the lives of oppressed noblewomen, and ignore their secretly empowered lower-order sisters. Where poorer women are mentioned, glancingly, they are pitied as prostitutes or rape victims. Even writers who seem desperate for a “feminist take” on the period tend to ignore the angle staring them right in the face. In her 2022 cinematic romp, Catherine called Birdy, for example, Lena Dunham puts Sylvia Pankhurst-esque speeches into the mouth of her 13th-century protagonist, while portraying her impending marriage – at 14 – as normal for the period. (In fact the average 13th-century woman got married somewhere between the ages of 22 and 25.)

But we cling tight to these ideas. It is often those who push back against them who get accused of “historical revisionism”. This applies particularly to the fantasy genre, which aside from the odd preternaturally “feisty” female character, tends to portray the period as, well, a misogynistic fantasy. The Game of Thrones author George RR Martin once defended the TV series’ burlesque maltreatment of women on the grounds of realism. “I wanted my books to be strongly grounded in history and to show what medieval society was like.” Oddly enough, this didn’t apply to female body hair (or the dragons).

This is interesting. Most of our historical biases tend to run in the other direction: we assume the past was like the present. But when it comes to the history of gender relations, the opposite is true: storytellers insist on portraying women as more oppressed than they actually were.

“The history of gender relations might be more accurately painted as a tug of war between the sexes”

The casual reader of history is left with the dim impression that between the Palaeolithic era and the 19th century women suffered a sort of dark age of oppression. This is assumed to have ended some time around the invention of the lightbulb, when the idea of “gender equality” sprang into our heads and right-thinking societies set about “discovering” female competencies: women – astonishingly – could do

things men could do!

In fact the history of gender relations might be more accurately painted as a tug of war between the sexes, with women sometimes gaining and sometimes losing power – and the stronger sex opportunistically seizing control whenever it had the means.

In Minoan Crete, for example, women had similar rights and freedoms to men, taking equal part in hunting, competitions, and celebrations.

But that era ushered in one of the most patriarchal societies the planet has ever known – classical Greece, where women had no political rights and were considered “minors”.

Or take hunter-gatherer societies, the source of endless cod-evolutionary theories about female inferiority. The discovery of female skeletons with hunting paraphernalia has disproved the idea that men only hunted and women only gathered – and more recently anthropologists have challenged the idea that men had higher status too: women, studies contend, had equal sway over group decisions.

This general bias has had two unfortunate consequences. One is to impress upon us the idea that inequality is “natural”. The other is to give us a certain complacency about our own age: that feminist progress is an inevitable consequence of passing time. “She was ahead of her time,” we say, when a woman seems unusually empowered. Not necessarily.

Two years ago, remember, sprang up one of the most vicious patriarchies in history – women were removed from their schools and places of work and battoned into homes and hijabs. And last year in the US many women lost one of their fundamental rights: abortion. (Turns out it was pro-lifers, not feminists, who were ahead of their time there.)

Both these events were greeted with shock from liberal quarters: how could women’s rights be going backwards? But that only shows we should brush up on our history. Another look at medieval women is as good a place to start as any.

Martha Gill is a political journalist and former lobby correspondent

#Women’s History #books for women #The Once and Future Sex: Going Medieval on Women’s Roles in Society #Eleanor Janega #The Wife of Bath: A Biography #Marion Turner

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sabakos · 1 year

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Ironically, the sort of boring, practical education that doesn't "inspire great thoughts" is actually very important to make accessible to everyone as a fundamental human right. Your inability to participate in society because you can't read or do basic math or have enough grounding in other skills to learn a trade materially affects you negatively in a way that disadvantages you compared to everyone else.

But meanwhile, if you never learn to interpret Chaucer there's definitely still something that you're missing out on, and it's fairly easy to concede that you shouldn't be actively deprived of this if you choose to want to pursue it. But it's hard to argue that this is as important, and it's rather repulsive to suggest that you are in some sense "less human" for lacking it; those who want to "dehumanize" you for this are telling on themselves about what their true motives are.

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wannab-urs · 1 year

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Build Me Up, Buttercup | Professor!Joel Miller x Student!Reader

Summary: Reader confronts Dr. Miller about her grade in his class.

Warnings: Not much yet. Reader is of legal age, no less than 22 but not specified, she's about to graduate college. She’s an English major. This is grumpy x grumpy. Lots of snark, eyerolling, etc. Not-Quite-Enemies to Lovers. And no she doesn’t blow him to get a better grade! (I would, but reader is classy).

Word Count: 1.1k

Why Do You Build Me Up

(Buttercup)

Dr. Miller’s Foundations of Architecture class was supposed to be a fun elective for you. You could learn a little more about architecture, something that has always been a mild interest for you. You like pretty buildings and you think it’s a cool subject. It’s your last semester of college and you deserve to take something fun to fill in that last elective requirement.

You certainly were not supposed to fail the fucking class.

“He’s so rude, Cooper,” you tell your friend. Coop looks up at you over their laptop, red curls springing in every direction and glasses sitting on the tip of their nose. They’re feigning interest while they hammer away at some graphic design assignment.

“One time he made a guy who said he liked 432 Park Ave leave the class. Like just kicked him out for the rest of the day! I mean that building is awful, but still!” Coop heaves a sigh and shuts their laptop.

“Is this that hot professor you told me about or is it the one who always wears really weird outfits?”

“No! The weird outfits guy is my Chaucer professor,” you choose to ignore the first half of that question. “I have words for him too, actually. He keeps-”

“Focus! Why are you failing Arc?”

“His essays are insane! Like, this is not English class, my guy, why are you grading me so hard? I’m literally an English major! You’d think my writing would be more than acceptable for a freshman level class.”

He had given you a D on your paper about gothic architecture. You’d chosen to write about the Santa Maria del Fiore in Italy and he took off THREE letter grades because they finished the construction in the neo-gothic style… which you had made a whole section of your paper about. It’s perfectly valid. It’s not like he really gave you much to go on.

“Did you follow the prompt? Sometimes your brain takes you places the question didn’t exactly call for…” they give you a knowing look.

“This isn’t a fanfic writing challenge, Coop, I can follow a damn prompt. He doesn’t give us anything to go on at all for these essays! Or for anything else, really.”

He is the least verbose professor you have ever had. It’s honestly kind of refreshing for a man to not love the sound of his own voice, but you’re also paying him to teach you something.

“The essay prompt was literally ‘Gothic Architecture’ and the guidelines were ‘12 pages, double spaced, due March 19th.’" You drop your voice into its lowest register, mimicking Dr. Miller's deep baritone. "And that’s what I wrote!” Someone shushes you from behind a bookshelf. You’re getting a little over excited, borderline yelling in the library about this infuriating man.

“Have you tried going to his office hours?” God why are they always so reasonable?

“Have you tried going to his office hours… No. I have not. He’s rude, remember?”

“Just try it! What’s the worst that could happen?”

“He could drop my paper down to an F.”

“And you could report him for unfair grading practices. Go. Shoo,” Coop starts pushing your books toward your bag.

“Fiiiiiine,” you relent.

Twenty minutes later you find yourself standing in the doorway of his office. Dr. Miller is sitting behind a large wooden desk. It’s very neat, the only things on it a computer, a picture frame turned away from you, and a stack of books. Dr. Miller has one of the books open and is writing something in a notebook, brow furrowed and tongue poking out between his lips.

“Dr. Miller?” you ask hesitantly.

He doesn’t look up from his work, just lifts a hand vaguely in your direction for a second and keeps writing. You roll your eyes and look around the office. There are bookshelves lining the walls with architecture textbooks in neat rows. A few covers of Architectural Digest are framed on the wall. Is he in those?

Your eyes land back on him. He’s wearing a dark grey Fleetwood Mac shirt that looks old as hell. The collar is stretched, revealing a bit of his chest. Your eyes trace a line up the column of this throat… He has a nice neck.

You had called him your hot professor at the beginning of the semester, regardless of how you felt about him now. There’s just something about that fluffy bed head he always has, like he couldn’t be bothered to run a comb through it. And the scruffy beard laced with grey he doesn’t seem keen on trimming. And the way his mustache frames his pouty lips. And his prominent nose that looks straight out of a painting. And okay that’s enough.

“Dr. Miller, I need to talk to you.”

“M’busy,” he mumbles out, still not looking up from the textbook.

“Okay, well it’s your office hours, so technically you have to talk to me.”

“Technically, little miss, I don’t have to do anything.”

“Excuse me? Let’s not speak to grown women like they’re children, sir.” Is he fucking for real right now?

He closes his notebook and looks at you for the first time since you walked in. Probably the first time all semester. He kind of pauses when he sees you, hopefully realizing he isn’t talking to a freshman. It wouldn’t make the little nickname okay, but it would make more sense at least.

He looks you up and down and his jaw ticks, “Sit.” His eyes flick to the chair in front of his desk. You drop your bag on the floor and slide into the seat. “So. What can I help you with?”

You take a deep breath. “You gave me a D on my last paper.”

He just stares at you.

“And considering our prompt was all of 8 words, I think- I know I met the requirements and that I did a good job. It was thoroughly researched, structured well, copy and content edited, and turned in 2 days before deadline. I would like an explanation-”

“Enough,” he cuts you off. “I don’t have to justify my gradin’ decisions to you.”

You let out a frustrated puff of air. This man drives you insane. “Dr. Miller, I’m a senior. I took this class to fulfill an elective requirement and because I like architecture. I would like to understand what is so egregious about my writing that you would have me fail a class in my last semester of college.”

He considers you for a moment, meeting your eyes. He lowers his brow, screws up his mouth from side to side, like he’s thinking hard about something. “I’ll reread it.”

Not I’ll reconsider your grade, but at least it’s something. “Thank you.” You grab your bag, moving to leave, and he stops you.

“Wait!” You pause, arching an eyebrow. “What was your name again?” He doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed.

“Seriously? I’ve been in your class since January. Figure it out.”

You storm out, slamming the door behind you.

A/N: This will be my first series! I'm really excited to try some actual characterization and plot, which I've never really played around with before. Constructive criticism in my DMs is always appreciated <3

Tag List: @beskarandblasters, @cutesyscreenname, @atinylittlepain, @wednesdayday, @whoiscaroline, @goldenhxurs, @northernwindd, @djarinxore, @worhols, @amanitacowboy, @silkiers, @4ueijos, @livinxdeadxgrl, @serenaxpedro, @huffle-punk, @elvn011, @thepriceofpepper, @lexic-22, @sunshinebtrfly, @strang3lov3, @virgogaia

#joel miller #joel miller fics #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #Joel Miller AU #Professor!Joel #Professor!Joel Miller

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jakeyt · 1 year

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Covet: Chapter 6 (Sneak Peek)

Here's a little snippet from Chapter 6...

“Fiction or non?”

You were splayed out on your bedroom floor, with Theo across from you. As he’d pored over his textbook, he kept coming up with questions to ask you.

Sure, it might be cute and endearing in a normal circumstance. But right now, you wanted to focus on studying for a couple of upcoming tests, as summer semesters were the worst at moving so damn quickly.

There were more important matters at hand than nonsensical small talk.

Deciding to humor him (and hopefully get back to the task at hand), you responded. “Hmm. . .,” you sat up from where you’d been laying on your stomach to read about Geoffrey Chaucer. “They both have special things about them—both stretch our minds to understand more about other worlds and our own,” you paused, giving it a second to ponder. “Are we talking writing-wise or reading-wise?”

He chuckled, and winked at you. “It doesn’t have to be something you think so deeply about,” he closed his textbook. What was he doing? You still had to make flash cards! “Pretend we’re playing a game and it’s rapid fire questions.”

You didn’t want to be playing a game. You wanted to be sinking your teeth into the intricacies of this author in order to ace your test.

You shook your head, your eyes stuck on his closed book. “Fuck,” you scratched your eyebrow. Your mind flicked to music: fun to write and read about. You were actually currently reading a book about John Lennon. You had many books on your TBR list about famous musicians. A most intriguing subject, in your opinion. “Non-fiction.”

His face scrunched up. “Nah,” he disagreed. “Fiction.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” his stare was blank in response. “Don’t really have to think too hard about it.”

You tried not to roll your eyes at him. In your opinion, thinking hard about what you were writing or reading was what made it most desirable. It made you venture into undiscovered realms of your mind.

When you went to lean back over your book, the movement made you realize just how badly your bladder was begging to be released.

Stupidly, you thought of the ridiculous work schedule on the fridge.

Why the hell couldn’t you just let yourself go to the damn bathroom without thinking about Jake? You knew it was fucking ludicrous. You just didn’t want to see him. When you pulled up the picture of the fridge on your phone, you saw you were in the clear. He should still be at band rehearsal.

You tapped your open book, giving Theo a sign that he needed to open his back up. “I’m going to the bathroom real quick,” you stood up, the wave of having to pee rushing through you tenfold at the motion. He still hadn’t gotten the hint to open up his textbook. Ugh. “I’ll be back soon and then we will make our cards for the test.”

And as you exited the room, you saw him finally get back to business and open his book back up. After you’d safely closed the door to your room, you rolled your eyes at his lack of care at getting shit done.

-🌼🌼🌼-

You dried your hands on the towel next to the sink, and took a look at yourself in the mirror.

He sort of annoyed you, but Theo was still cute, and he’d made you happy in high school. You weren’t totally opposed to the idea of kissing him (or maybe more) by the end of the night.

It seemed to you to be another good plan to get your mind off of Jake.

And Theo seemed interested enough. Considering he’d been more interested in learning about you, rather than the material for class all night (irritating, but whatever).

Deciding you looked good enough, you opened the door to go back. And as you went to walk out, you stopped at a chest in your way. You got dizzy at the smell—smelled so fucking good—

You looked up.

Jake.

Your eyebrows pinched together, not happy at all that you’d crossed paths. Fucking hell. Why wasn’t he. . .?

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like thi—.”

You held a hand up to silence him, crossing your arms. “Why aren’t you at band practice?”

Why the fuck was he cracking jokes? You were not in the mood.

“Ended early,” his face hardened when he shrugged, stating it plainly.

“Why didn’t you just stay with the guys?” You asked, secretly glad he didn’t. For whatever reason. “You could have hung out with them instead of coming back here.”

“Oh,” he stuck his chin out at the word and leaned a shoulder against the door-hinge. He raised a brow and crossed his arms to mirror you. “I see.”

You definitely didn’t glance at how his bicep flexed as his fingers wrapped around it. And you didn’t take time to appreciate his beautiful hair. . . had it started getting slightly longer?

You shook your head, retraining your eyes.

“Tell me, Jake, what do you see?” You snapped, flicking your eyes up to his.

He scoffed, rolled his eyes. “Saw that guy lying on your bedroom floor, waiting for you. He was even sweet enough to wave at me when he saw me pass your room,” he sarcastically remarked, waving his hand to mimic.

“We’re just studying,” you hushed back, feeling the (unnecessary) need to reassure him.

He scoffed. “You think that’s all it is to him?”

You narrowed your eyes and pursed your lips before you pulled him by his T-shirt into the bathroom. You weren’t going to discuss this in a place Theo could possibly hear.

“I know that’s all it is,” you released his shirt like you were repulsed by the touch, when in reality you wanted nothing more than to pull it completely off of him. Damn him.

“I don’t. Just think it’s funny how you’re so naive to believe he doesn’t want more.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Do you?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I just think it’s funny that you might want me out just so you can fuck that guy in your bedroom,” he nodded his head in the direction of your room.

Oh. He was taking it there. Okay.

“Yeah? And if I wanted to?” You jutted your chin out the slightest bit, bringing your arms closer, to press against your chest. “How is it any of your damn business?”

He stepped once towards you, eyeing your chest, the tops of your breasts revealed, pushed up to the top of your tank. Your skin flushed, heart racing.

His voice lowered. “It became my business the night you spread your legs for me at Baby’s,” one more step towards you, his eyes locking with yours. Fuck. “When I had you moaning my name while my mouth played between your pretty legs,” another step. “I think you gave yourself away that night. I don’t buy this little act.”

Oh.

Fuck. . . If your heart wasn’t racing.

You blinked, shaking your head. You tried to stand firm. “Wh-what act?” Dammit. Why were you stuttering?

Stand your ground, y/n, you thought, motivating yourself to stay strong.

But as he took one more step in, your body was effectively once again trapped between his body and a sink. Thankfully, he hadn’t pressed himself up to your front, so you weren’t distracted by that.

You tried to hold your own.

But shit. . .he was so close. Your skin flared with heat, your heart still beating erratically in your chest.

As you were making direct eye contact with the chest of his white t-shirt, you craned your neck to see his face fully.

“What act, Jacob?”

He shook his head. A little smirk played at his mouth. He brought his hand up to hold your cheek. Your skin was on fire for him and his touch.

You couldn’t help it when you leaned into his hand, letting your cheek press into his calloused flesh.

He licked his lips. “You tell me,” he whispered lowly, nodding his head once at you.

And you couldn’t help it, his deep brown eyes pulled you in. He was begging to be touched. You had to feel him.

Leaning in, you held his cheek just as he held yours. He then took the chance, and captured your lips with his.

Ah. His lips. So soft.

Your vision was hazy, eyes still open, you saw how his eyebrows dipped in with a moan. You matched the sound, closing your eyes, and slipped your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his.

You heard him shut the door with the hand that wasn’t holding your face.

He then moved that hand from your face, reaching both hands under your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before he lifted you the short distance to sit on the bathroom countertop.

You bit his bottom lip, getting another small moan from him. He did the same to you and then soothed the spot with his tongue. You sighed into his mouth.

Reaching both hands up, you sunk them into his dark, brunette locks. He matched every movement of your lips with his own, and then licked one wet stripe on the roof of your mouth.

You were able to gasp for air when he moved his mouth from yours to give the softest, small kisses to your neck. Though it didn’t last long before he turned his pecks into wet, open-mouthed kisses. The slightest stubble of hair on his lip skimmed against your sensitive skin. He worked from under your jaw, all the way up, to the tender spot behind your ear.

Shivering with a sigh, you gripped his hair tighter, pulling him in as close as he could be to you, on the counter. You felt his hardening length against your center when you did so, making you immediately grind into him.

And when he did the same to the other side of your neck, this time, he nipped at the skin behind your ear. You bucked your hips into his. He released a groan that echoed through the small bathroom, making you want to melt into it.

“More,” you breathed, clutching him closer, making sure the front of you stayed connected to him. Feeling his hard length through the material of his jeans was almost too much, but you craved it. You needed it.

More.

But, the next moment, you heard a little cough from your bedroom, right next door.

It snapped you from your daze. You were suddenly hyper aware that it was not just you two in the apartment. You had to stop.

You pushed him back, jumping off the counter. When you looked in the mirror to check your face and neck, your lips were swollen and your cheeks were flushed. Your neck was still pink from where he’d been. You checked where he’d bit behind your ear, and seeing the redness back there made you want to hop right back onto that counter. Let him have his way with you— right there. Theo be fucking damned.

But you knew better.

Tucking some hair behind your ear, you tried to make yourself look slightly presentable.

From behind you, he was brushing a hand through his hair, when he went to smooth a hand over his cheeks, his jaw stretching with the motion. He was contemplative.

His eyebrows drew together, curious. You couldn’t tell if he was upset. He mostly looked . . .confused.

He removed his hand from his face when his eyes found yours in the mirror, open and wondering. He looked desperate to understand.

“What do you want, y/n?”

You didn’t know what in the hell to tell him.

You wanted Jake. And you wanted him bad. But somehow saying it out loud seemed too difficult at the moment.

And how could you say that to him when he’d so recently, blatantly told you that you were a mistake?

“I don’t know, Jake,” you whispered back, still looking at your blushing cheeks, messy hair, and freshly kissed lips. You’d need a minute to let your skin return to its normal shade before going back to your room.

You turned to face him.

When you saw him, looking so beautiful, so lost. . . You thought of how lost you’d felt for the past couple weeks. His words were once again flashing back through your head.

“It was a fucking mistake and you need to leave me alone.”

It still hurt as you could see him so clearly in the doorway of his bedroom, angry and insistent that you do what he said and leave him alone.

But tonight? Crowding you in here to make out on the bathroom counter? Did he truly want that? For you to leave him alone?

“What do you want?” You leveled him with a stare, your tone sharp, but keeping your voice low since Theo was one room over. You pointed a finger in his chest. “You say you want me to leave you alone, but then you trap me in here like this?”

He shook his head, a dimple showing again with a sarcastic grin. After tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, he put the same hand in his pocket.

“Oh, there is no way you are going to turn this around on me,” he matched your quiet tone, understanding. “And trap you? Okay, Little Miss ‘Fuck Me, Jake,’” he used air quotes to remind you of your words from the night at Baby’s.

Fuck.

Of course he remembered you’d said that. Why wouldn’t he?

You decided to ignore it, focusing back on him.

“You’re the one who said it was a mistake! That I needed to leave you alone,” you protested, anger flaring in your chest.

He covered his eyes with a hand, the veins in the hand catching your eye. You’d never noticed how masculine his hands were. And damn if he didn’t know how to use them . . . Even in this moment, debating with him, you wanted them touching every part of you. You wanted his skilled fingers, flexing inside of you.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” His eyes were sad when he moved his hand, when you saw the brown irises again. But there was a fire behind them still. “Dammit, y/n. Why do you insist on assuming the worst about me all the fucking time? I’m not the one who can’t make up my mind about what I want,” he leaned back against the wall behind him, crossing his arms. “One minute you’re kissing me. You’re with me, naked and ready as I’m pressing into you,” his voice was being raspy, along with the picture he was drawing. . . It made your cheeks pink. You could still feel what he felt like, pressing against you, throbbing. . .so close to being inside of you. He went on, “And the next moment you’re shoving me away from you, making sure to tell me that Josh doesn’t need to know what we’re doing.”

Of course some of this had to do with Josh. You’d had the smallest inkling, based on how weird he’d acted when you set the rules.

Stupid.

“I knew you were making it all weird with Josh. . . is this all about Josh?! You know that he and I—.”

“No! It’s about you and how you make it impossible for us to—.”

“You told me to go away!”

“And you told me to stop,” he said back, his smoky voice still hushed. “More than once.”

Your chest heaved, knowing he was right, but you were so lost on how to explain it all. “There were reasons every time.”

“Reasons,” he scoffed. “So are you going to keep having these reasons? Keep stopping it? Why do you keep letting it happen if all you’re going to do is make us stop?”

“Last time you stopped us, Jake!” You defended, focusing on keeping your voice low. “Not me. You walked away and called it a mistake.”

He covered his face with both hands, growling. You shushed him.

He took his hands away to show his jaw set, clenching with frustration. “You were drunk, y/n!” He begged you to understand, “I wasn’t going to do anything with you without you being in full and total control of yourself.”

You were sure your expression showed it all clicking. You blinked at him. It all made so much sense now.

And what he’d done? His true intentions? Fuck. Sexy as hell.

Maybe you really did need to stop assuming the worst. You just couldn’t help it. It was a trauma response. Jumping to conclusions, thinking that people didn’t want you. . .

Your mom didn’t want you, so you were always convinced other people wouldn’t either.

Especially men who were as beautiful as Jake Kiszka.

Damn. Now it really was all on you. How did you even begin to lay it all out?

You looked him dead in the face, completely unsure of how to articulate the mess in your head.

“I don’t know,” you covered your face with both hands, mimicking him and frustratedly groaning into your palms. When you removed them from your face, you tucked them into your front pockets. You decided to assure him of one thing. For whatever reason, you wanted—needed him to know this. “I do want you. I want what we almost had in the bathroom at Baby’s,” You stepped towards him, wanting to be close to him again. You placed a delicate hand on his chest. He looked down at you, as you looked up into his eyes, reaching to hold your hand on his chest. Your skin tingled at his touch. “I need to feel you, to be with you. . . it just never seems like the right time. There’s always something.”

You didn’t know why you’d suddenly felt the urge to be vulnerable with him. He kept your hand on his chest, holding you, his eyes meeting yours in understanding.

And you knew then that it was just him. Jake Kiszka, in and of himself, made you feel this strange sense of safety, comfortability.

And it was different from the kind his twin had offered you as your friend for so many years.

With Jake, you weren’t just friends. You weren’t even really friends. . .it was something else—an intense, unavoidable attraction. The safe feeling came combined with this desire to be with him.

He felt like a resting ground.

It was weird.

But you liked it.

He smoothed a thumb over your hand on his chest. You held his deep gaze, getting lost in it.

And out of nowhere, he leaned down, kissing your lips with his. Just for a moment.

You felt it all the way down to your toes. The feeling of him so close, with one simple kiss from his soft lips, it felt perfectly intimate.

He released his hold on your hand, wrapping his hand around your waist instead, eyes connected with yours. It was as though he just wanted to touch you, have his hands on you.

It was what you wanted, too. Just the feeling of his hand, as it moved down to just over your hip, his thumb on the skin underneath the hem of your gray tank top. . .it felt right.

He penetrated the thickness in the air with his low, gravelly tone. His eyes were vulnerable as he asked, “Do you want that? To find the right time?”

You reached a hand up, holding his handsome face. You smoothed a thumb over his skin, tracing a freckle on his cheek. “I do. I promise I do,” you blinked up at him, needing his answer to that question. “And do you? Wanna find the right time?”

This was so much, butterflies flew rampant in your tummy.

The grin he gave you was loose, his eyes relieved and open. “I really do.”

It felt so amazing to hear it straight from his lips. He really wanted it too.

You’d overthink all of this later.

He leaned down to kiss you again. You reciprocated, for just a moment, letting your lips move with his.

Then you pulled back, your hand falling from his face.

You nodded at the door. “I gotta get back to studying.”

His hand that was holding your hip squeezed slightly, your skin heating at it. You caught his eye, the intense feeling setting in your beating heart.

“Is that all you’re doing?” His eyes were dark and questioning, making your head spin. “Studying?”

You winked at him, still holding onto your teasing from earlier. “It’s whatever I want it to be.”

His eyes seemed to darken more, pulling you in so your chest touched his. So warm. “I really don’t want to hear another guy fucking you through these walls.”

You pressed closer to him, your body thrumming with fire. “Funny coming from the guy who told me I could just wear earplugs when he brought women over,” then you pulled back, his hand fell. His eyebrow lifted, a tiny smirk lifted his lips. You continued, “Why don’t you go ahead and get a pair of your own, hm?”

You patted his cheek, reluctantly parting from him. Before leaving the bathroom, you chanced one more glance at your appearance. Not quite as flushed as before, though your cheeks were still blushing. You’d find a way to pass it off. Whatever. You’d been gone too long.

You were about to open the bathroom door when, from behind, his voice stopped you. You felt a spark as his hand delicately touched yours.

“Hey.”

You swiveled on your heel, raised your brows in question. “Yeah?”

“Do you think you could come to our gig this weekend? It’s a bigger one.”

Did you work this weekend? You couldn’t remember.

All you knew was that, suddenly, you really wanted to be at their show.

“I’m not sure . . . Depends on work.”

“I would love—,” he put a fist in front of his mouth and cleared his throat. “The guys and I would love it if you could be there,” he shook his head, seeming to come to terms with an inner battle. “For me, I would just love to look out and see your beautiful face in the crowd.”

Your mind was fuzzy. All of this felt so unreal, yet so real all at once. He really wanted you there? And had he just called you beautiful?

“I’ll try my best,” you slapped on a small grin, trying to play hard to get, masking your inner shock. You wanted to keep him on his toes, like he’d kept you for the past weeks.

He scrunched his brows in and messed with his bottom lip. “Yeah,” he nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah, totally get it. Just text me and let me know.”

Anytime he messed with his mouth, it was a distraction. You had to keep yourself from watching too close. It really didn’t help that you knew the feeling of those full, pink lips. . .

And as you walked the short distance to your bedroom, you realized something else.

Had he just asked you to text him?

What was all of this? This new territory you had just discovered?

---

Thoughts? What are you looking forward to most from this chapter?

Let me know <3 I'm so, so sorry this update is taking so long...I promise it will be worth it! (if you know what i mean......)

#covet #sneak peek

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betterbooktitles · 4 months

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On looking older than I am:

By the time I was a teenager, I’d fully accepted my early adulthood. When I wasn’t playing a sport or acting in a play, my number one hobby was taking a John Updike book (sorry) to a coffee shop. I frequented a place within walking distance of my house in Cleveland called Talkies. I sat at the front bar with my book and ate a second lunch at 3 PM. I talked to random people sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes inside. One was a researcher at Case Western who studied molecular biology. He seemed to know no one in Cleveland except me and the baristas. Another guy was a white dude with dreadlocks, a gifted actor who bussed tables at the fancy restaurant next door. Every barista was a 20-something woman who told me about their various trysts in graphic detail. Multiple times the men offered me cigarettes or to split a joint outside. No wonder it took me years to finish one of the Rabbit novels. I was soaking up more than enough adult content in my real life than any book could offer.

The oddest encounter occurred at a hotel in Annapolis, Maryland when I was 15. I attended a boys’ catholic prep school and because my parents and I were taking a few college campus tours during our family trip, and you never know who you might bump into, I chose to wear the tie and khakis I would normally wear in class. I had chosen an aqua shirt with a bright textured gold tie that morning and was still wearing it when I approached the front desk that evening. I promised my English teacher I would have a late assingment on his desk Monday morning despite my travel schedule. I had finished writing it on my mom’s laptop and put it on a flash drive.

“Is there an office in the hotel with a printer?” I asked the woman at the front desk. I deepened my voice. “My boss needs this report ASAP.”

The woman behind the desk wore a maroon and beige polo shirt with the name of the hotel embroidered on one side and a fat plastic name tag that read “Jess” on the other. She kept her curly brown hair tied back behind her head and looked like she was ready to take a nap rather than help one more jerk fix his malfunctioning room key or find the hotel’s office. She smiled though and led the way. We walked through a large banquet hall that looked like it was hosting a wedding or prom. Pink uplighting and one of those whirling balls with differently colored light filters spun around and painted the room. I watched fat white men in suits sip cocktails out of plastic cups and flirt with young women half their size and age. A number of them wore saris.

“What is this?” I said aloud.

“It’s a party for the IMF.” the woman said. “You’re not with them?”

“No, I’m on a different kind of work trip.” I said.

She kept walking until we found a door on the side of the room. Bright tube lighting poured into the mock nightclub when she opened it. I hurried in so as to not disturb the party atmosphere too long, and to my surprise, she shut the door behind us and stayed to watch me use the office.

Computers in 2002, especially out-of-date communal ones used by everyone in a hotel, were not very fast. The fat glass monitor was already on, and when I opened the browser, I had a good two minutes to chat, which the hotel employee seemed keen on doing.

“So where are you headed?” She asked.

“Well, it’s here tonight, then New York, then upstate somewhere, back to Cleveland.”

“Busy weekend.”

“Yes, we’re- I’m trying to squeeze in a lot.”

We talked about my work. I vaguely said I was on a deadline for a writing assignment which made me sound like a journalist or someone with an entry-level publishing job. At some point, she said she was glad I wasn’t with the loud bankers because I seemed too nice and cute to work with them.

Was this happening?

I found my little essay about Chaucer and clicked print. As a printer the size of a Fiat whirred to life and started pumping out the pages, the woman said:

“I’m actually off the clock now if you want to have a drink with me.”

“I’d love that,” I said.

I put the essay in a folder (not a professional manila folder, a high school-ass, bright glossy blue folder with my school’s logo on it) and followed her to the hotel bar.

I ordered a beer in the annoying fake way people do in movies: the actor walks up to the bar and instead of checking what’s on tap or thinking of their brand of choice like ‘Bud’ or ‘Stella’ or even naming a type like ‘stout’ or ‘pilsner’ the actor confidently says “I’ll have a beer” and the extra playing the bartender wordlessly gets to pouring.

“I’ll have a beer!” I said to the bartender who squinted his eyes at me and cocked his head.

“OK…” he pointed at Jess, who still had her uniform and name tag on.

“Jack and Coke, Ben.”

I sipped the beer slowly. We drank and talked about work and if Jess was going to bite the bullet and go to grad school. She asked if I wanted, when we finished our drinks, to go with her to a house party up the street.

“We can smoke a bowl, listen to my friend play some music. It’ll be fun.” she assure me.

“I really shouldn’t,” I said, “We’re- I’m… I have an early morning.”

“Ah,” she said, looking down at her drink.

I now realize that every coy excuse I made sounded like I had a girlfriend or wife at home and I maybe had a problem with drugs and alcohol that might make me do something I regretted. I was playing an adult better than I ever had in my life.

“So, someone is with you in your room, then?” Jess asked nervously.

“Yeah. There are people in my room.”

And here, dear reader, I’m sorry (or happy) to tell you that I fessed up.

“I’m staying with my parents.” I said.

“Oh. That’s sweet. Are they meeting up with you on this trip? Where are they from?”

“We drove here together from Cleveland, actually.”

“Oh, OK.” She said, looking confused.

“I- You see. I’m not on a work trip. I’m seeing schools.” I looked at the bartender who was pretending not to listen on the other side of the empty bar.

“Grad schools?”

“No. Listen. Sorry. I’m in high school.”

“Wait- how old are you?”

“I’m 15.”

“Jesus. Uuughh!” She leaned her torso over the bar as if she was fainting, and looked up at me with one eye over her glass. “Oh, boy. I know how to pick ‘em.”

“I look older,” I said, consolingly.

“Yes. You do. Oh, God. Wow. OK. Ummm.” She sat up and did a little drum roll with her hands on the bar.

I chugged the rest of my beer.

Read the rest of the essay here.

#lit #memoir #essay #writing #long reads #long post #funny #weird #memory #dan wilbur #story #storytime #amwriting #youth #teens

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tyrantisterror · 5 months

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Well gang, it's Walpurgisnacht, a time when the veil is thin and the supernatural powers are at their strongest. That also means it's the two-year anniversary of the publication of the first Wizard School Mysteries book. I had hoped to have a third out by now but life has been... well, it's been life, and things are progressing if at a slower pace than desired, that's how it goes.

ANYWAY! To keep with the faith and tide over the five or so of my followers who are actually looking forward to a third one of these (and five more after it at some point), I thought I'd share something special: the Wizard School Mysteries Freshmen Year soundtrack! Yes, like ATOM and No Sympathies before it, I've made a soundtrack for Wizard School Mysteries. It's not fully complete, mind you - this is the biggest writing project I've undertaken so far, and things are constantly developing, but the parts of it that cover the first three books are more or less done - and today, I'm sharing the first two with you, i.e. the songs that cover the freshmen year of my eight meddlesome youths.

As with the previous books, I've made a youtube playlist of the songs involved, and will post the tracklist below along with what each track corresponds to in the books. So if this kind of thing interests you, dive in after the cut!

Book 1: The Meddlesome Youths

Prologue: He's Leaving Home - She's Leaving Home by The Beatles, which is a song about a runaway teenager escaping a family that refused to acknowledge their pain. This is, obviously, a song for James Chaucer.

Chapter 1: The Treadscar Path - We Are Going to be Friends by The White Stripes. This song's about kids going to school for the first time and making friends, and while the protagonists of the song are much younger than our Meddlesome Youths, I still feel it captures the spirit of the first meeting of James, Ivan, and Gretchen.

Chapter 2: Elemental Orientation - Pursuing My True Self from Persona 4. The Persona games are the biggest influence on Wizard School Mysteries out of all its inspirations, and the opening theme for Persona 4 to this day screams "teenage sleuths diving into a mystery" to me when I hear it, which made it the perfect song for our introduction to the AAAM.

Chapter 3: Academics and Absences - Beneath the Mask -rain- from Persona 5. Second verse same as the first where Persona and WSM goes. I consider this another James Chaucer theme, both lyrically and in its general vibe, and the "rain" version's specifically moodier, more contemplative arrangement really suits where his head is at during this chapter of the book, as James is exposed to the faults in the AAAM and how it's failing some of its students.

Chapter 4: Of Chariots and Fire - She's Actual Size by They Might Be Giants. This is a Margot theme, and also kind of a James theme since it fits his view of her really well.

Chapter 5: What No Student Has Done Before - Rasputin by Bony M. This is an Oomlowt theme, which I struggled to find for a while when putting together the early versions of the WSM soundtrack, until one of my friends pointed out that, as an Aitvaras, Oomlowt could be considered Russian - and, well, as the first book's sole "cool" teacher, I think he's earned the right to claim one of the raddest fucking songs ever sung as his unofficial theme.

Chapter 6: The Hoard of Knowledge - Magic by The Mystery Skulls. I wanted a song that captures the feeling I got when entering my college's enormous, jaw-dropping library of books back in the day, which is a feeling this chapter also tried to catch. The fact that the song is full of language dealing with magic spells also helps it fit a wizard book.

Chapter 7: Tea With Mackers - The Nuckelavee Song from The Bard's Tale. Listen, this is the chapter where a nuckelavee plays a big role, and that's as good an excuse as any to use this song.

Chapter 8: The Matter of Manners - Changes by David Bowie. This is a Rodrigo theme, and I try to give him glam rock songs as much as possible to fit his vibe as the most fashionable of our wizard youths. I think the song also fits what Rodrigo is attempting to do in this chapter - namely, help his friends figure out how to fit in with a "higher" class of people.

Chapter 9: Hobgoblin Poetry - Magic Dance Underground / A Labyrinth Medley by Aurelio Voltaire. As I've opined before, I think Jim Henson's Labyrinth is one of the best illustrations of what folkloric fairies are like in terms of behavior/morality, and so for this chapter, when we get some characterization for a normal fairy underling for the big bad, I felt a Labyrinth song would be appropriate, and this medley is like half the soundtrack condensed into five minutes.

Chapter 10: The Samhain Celebration - Love Is All by Dio. Speaking of characterizing the Fae, there's a manic aspect to the cheery 70's positivity of this song that I find subtly sinister while still being playful and fun, which I think fits the dance-scene in this book quite well.

Chapter 11: Traps and Treasures - God's Away on Business by Tom Waits. This is a Fafgander theme - like Oomlowt, I kinda struggled finding a good song for him. I knew I wanted his theme to be something by Tom Waits, but I struggled to decided on one song in particular. I kept coming back to this one despite having already used it on the No Sympathies soundtrack - I generally try not to repeat myself on these to make sure each book's audio accompaniment is unique to it. But I couldn't stop picturing a big dragon slithering out of the clouds to the opening beats of this song, and the playful cynicism of the lyrics just felt very Fafgander.

Chapter 12: A Wild Hunt & Chapter 13: The Summer Prince - Tam Lin by The Fairport Convention. Yeah, I know, kinda cheating to lump two chapters under one song, but Tam Lin is a long-ass song, though short by Medieval Ballad standards. A song about a clever mortal finding a way to trick a high-ranking fairy noble into releasing a person she was intending to use as a sacrifice is, I think, a pretty fitting song for the climax of book 1.

Chapter 14: The End of the Beginning - This Must Be the Place by The Talking Heads. A song about finding comfort and solace despite the uncertain future that lies before you, because you have people around you to help lift your spirits, which is exactly where our heroes are emotionally by the end of book 1.

Book 2: Tournament of Death

Chapter 1: The Dragon Tithe - Don't Let's Start by They Might Be Giants. There's a fan-made Adventure Zone animatic to this song that kind of cemented it as a Fantasy song in my mind despite there being no inherent fantasy elements to the lyrics. I mean, I already loved this song, They Might Be Giants has been one of my favorite bands since I started actively considering what my favorite bands are, but this just added to that love. Like a lot of TMBG songs, it's got a very peppy, upbeat vibe while having pretty dark lyrics, which feels pretty appropriate to the tone of WSM as a whole and Tournament of Death in particular.

Chapter 2: The Dragon Trick - Just the Right Bullets by Annabelle Chvostek. This is a theme for Juno Panopte, and was chosen for a couple reasons. First, Annabelle performs this song with just the right sort of gritty, vaguely sleazy charm that I wanted Juno to ooze. She's a charismatic teacher who nonetheless puts you a little on edge - you're never sure if she's fucking with you or not. Second, it's a cover of a Tom Waits song by a lady, and Juno Panopte, the character who represents the Empress arcana in WSM's tarot motiff, is a sort of equivalent to Fafgander, the Emperor arcana - and another character with a Tom Waits song as his theme.

Chapter 3: Curios of Calampen - Marketland by Lemon Demon. This is a song about people trying to hock weird shit to you at a flea market, for a chapter about our heroes buying weird shit at a flea market.

Chapter 4: Herring Lordred - Chaos King (with lyrics) by ManontheInternet. A theme for Lord Dhenregirr, and specifically for his duel with James at the start of the titular deadly tournament.

Chapter 5: The Sundown's Shine - Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In) by White Denim. Yeah, it's the version from the Fargo TV show. Obviously this is a song for Geoffrey Travers, out Dude-inspired wizard.

Chapter 6: Chivalry Dies - The Impossible Dream (The Quest) from Man of La Mancha. If there is a song that more succinctly captures the ideals of chivalry and gallant knighthood, I have not heard it, and no other song could make for a better funeral dirge for poor Gabriev Zelgad.

Chapter 7: Grudge Match - Barracuda by Heart. I looked for so many other songs for this chapter because Barracuda seemed like to obvious a choice, but nothing fit as well and, hey, this is me we're talking about, and more than that, it's Midgaheim. I am not one to avoid obvious, one might even say cliche, story choices if they appeal to me. And, like, this is specifically a song about confronting and telling off your abuser, very few things would fit this chapter better. A second theme for Margot, obviously.

Chapter 8: A Needlessly Gendered Night Out - Sandstorm by Danude. Ok, so, in every high school dance, as well as every dance club I went to in college (which was, like... three? I think? I did not party nearly enough when I was young) played this song at some point, so it's cemented in my head as THE song for teenagers/young adults doing stupid shit and getting into ridiculous drama, so I included it despite it being even longer than fucking Tam Lin.

Chapter 9: Lightning Struck - Under Pressure by Queen. A song that perfectly captures the teenager/young adult condition of, like, complete and total anxiety that any moment now you could ruin your life forever without meaning to. A song for Polybeus, but also for all the Meddlesome Youths, and really for all young people everywhere.

Chapter 10: Well-Timed Pranks - The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel. Once I remembered and accepted that being trite/cliche/obvious is very much my bag, I figured what the hell, let's use one of the most-overused songs about dealing with grief for the chapter that's about dealing with grief, because this song happens to be really fucking good at describing the process of dealing with grief.

Chapter 11: Wasp Under Glass - Woman!! Spirit of the Festival from Sakura Wars (2019). This song is a leitmotif for the most under-developed lady in the main cast of this game, which is a shame because the song itself is a fucking banger. Here it serves not just as a theme for Serena (hopefully more well-developed as a character) but specifically for her fight with Sadie Pineed. Can you hear the part where all the towers fall down? I can.

Chapter 12: Deadly Threads - General's Battle Song from Centaurworld. This is a song about a character who's seemed pretty affable and cool revealing his true colors as a total bastard, and on this unofficial soundtrack it serves as a theme for Richard Rainsford. If you read the second book, you know why.

Chapter 13: The Fury of Stars and Shards - Get Along from Slayers. This is specifically a theme for Margot and Serena's two-on-two fight with the saboteurs of the tournament. Can you hear the part where Serena gets the power up? Or when our two heroines, having dealt with the first saboteaur, bear down on the second and utterly curbstomp him? I can!

Chapter 14: Triumph of the Chariot - La Bete et la Belle by The Real Tuesday Weld. The Real Tuesday Weld is another of my favorite bands, and this song is actually a reprise of their song "The Ugly and the Beautiful" from their concept album I, Lucifer (which is in turn the official soundtrack for a novel of the same name by Glenn Duncan). The song itself is about a somewhat toxic relationship between two deeply unwell people, but this reprise differs from the first instance of it by being more sweet and mellow in how it's arranged which, combined with it being sung in French instead of English like its predecessor, softens a lot of its edges and brings the sweeter, more hopeful parts of the song to the forefront. I picked it as a song for James and Margot - two people who, while not toxic, are still a bit broken and unwell because of their life experiences - who are finding hope in each other and the people around them.

#Wizard School Mysteries #Tumblr if you tag this as “youtube” I'm stealing your kidneys

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maplesamurai · 12 days

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Some Fan Theories Before Wizard School Mysteries Vol. 3 Drops Tomorrow*

Wizard School Mysteries is a series of indie fantasy novels written by Will Cope (a.k.a. Tumblr's very own @tyrantisterror) and currently one of my favourite book series I've ever read. Set in TT's medieval fantasy setting of Midgaheim, the series follows the adventures of young wizard James Chaucer and his group of friends attending the Academy of Advanced Arcana and Magic as they investigate the various misdeeds that go on in their school under the ostensible watch of a faculty that frankly should not be in charge of running an ordinary school, much less one that teaches people how to summon fireballs. If you're the kind of person that may have grown up reading a certain other wizard school series but would like to read a version of that written by an actually decent human being and who presents the unjust institutions they've written into their world as something that should be challenged, then I cannot recommend this series highly enough. Especially since the latest instalment drops tomorrow on Amazon (okay, today since the clock struck midnight while I was still writing, but it was still the previous day when I wrote that sentence), so there is no better time to start reading!

But this is not a post about me recommending the series for newcomers. Instead, I'm here to take advantage of this topical timeframe to infodump about my personal theories that will be completely incomprehensible, not to mention spoiler-y, for anyone not as hopelessly lost in the sauce as I am. So if you haven't read them yet, books good go read, but if you're one of the two and a half people also in this criminally small fandom, jump under the cut for some basesless guesswork that may or may not be proven wrong by tomorrow!

Future Books and Their Central Characters

While James Chaucer has remained the primary POV character throughout the series thus far, Will has stated that each instalment of this planned to be eight book series will focus on the personal journey of one of the eight Meddlesome Youths. Book One was focused on James's story, showing him finding people who truly care about him after escaping his abusive home life and culminating with him finally being able to leave his pre-transition identity behind him, while Book Two centred around the tournament that Margot d'Francane competed in and eventually won, making her a school celebrity after a lifetime of being shunned and feared for her uncontrollable magic, and saw her deliver some well-deserved comeuppance to the abusive teacher who made her life hell during the first book. And Will has long established that Book Three will focus on Gretchen's apprenticeship under the Letharg Coven of witches, but how am I going to guess the central characters of the rest of the series, you might ask? Why, I'm going to look at the titles and just guess which ones suit which characters, of course?

...Look, I never said these theories had that much evidence to go on, alright?

While I haven't been able to find the post in question recently, a while ago Will shared his full list of every book, Midgaheim related or otherwise, that he plans to write, and at the time I copy and pasted the list of Wizard School Mysteries titles into a friend and I's Discord server to discuss just this topic, so without further ado, here's my guesses for...

Wizard School Mysteries Book 4: Creative Spellcrafting

More than any other member of the Meddlesome Youths, Ivan has been the one most inclined to put a creative spin on his magic or straight up invent his own spells, namely creating a flying carpet, and even turning the spell's more ravenous than intended side effects to his advantage in the gang's escape to Fairyland, and inventing a new form of illusion magic in the form of his "sillylusions," essentially inventing magical cartoons, which ultimately saved the day in the second book. And if one were to look at another definition of "creative," Will has confirmed that Ivan will eventually make a whole team of homunculi as the series goes on, i.e. creating life.

Wizard School Mysteries Book 5: Besties and Bestiaries

This is one of the easier ones to guess, as Serena calls people her "besties" a whole lot, which admittedly isn't as well-argued a guess as above, but it's the only title here to employ of of the Youths' own speech patterns, so I'm going with it.

Wizard School Mysteries Book 6: Amour of the Rings

First of all, "amour" means love, and Rodrigo's literally represents the Lovers of the Major Arcana, so right out of the gate we have that going for this theory. Expanding on that, rings in medieval times were given by monarchs to the vassals who swore fealty to them (that was even the symbolism behind Sauron's One Ring ploy in Tolkien, so we can also guess Will isn't naming his fantasy novel like that just to be cute), giving us a connection to Rodrigo as our only main cast member confirmed to be of noble birth as of this writing, and his knowledge of noble court politics has helped the gang out before. The mention of both love and rings also hints as a Rodrigo-focused story, since as the only noble born member of the Meddlesome Youths, he is more likely than any to become embroiled in an arranged marriage, which considering he and Ivan have become an official couple as of Book Two, could lead to a lot of complications among the cast.

Wizard School Mysteries Book 7: Mysteries Abroad

Okay, these last two titles don't hint at as many explicit connections to any of our heroes, but being a fairy studying among humans, Charlotte is the cast member best suited for the kind of "fish out of water" story that a semester abroad might bring. However, the inverse might even be true as Will has said that a semester abroad instalment would be a crossover with Maude & Mordi and Monster Detectives, two of his other planned Midgaheim series, and with both series having more monster heavy main casts from what I remember Will having shared of them, this could be a rare opportunity where Charlotte is the one who is more at home and has to guide the others through what is to them unfamiliar territory.

Wizard School Mysteries Book 8: The Final Arcana

Okay, this is where I'd have to admit I placed Polybeus here by process of elimination, but I can bullshit an actual reason for why he's the focus of the final instalment, I swear! First of all, the title might be a meta hint to the fact that Polybeus was the last of the Youths to join the team and thus the last whose Major Arcana was revealed, while also referring to some more literal in-story, whether that be the actual last Major Arcana character to be revealed, or some last great spell for the character to learn or last magical mishap for them to investigate. More substantially, it will probably take until late in the series for Polybeus to get his spotlight instalment in any case, since to but it bluntly, out of all the Meddlesome Youths, he's the one with the most to learn. Polybeus starts out the series as a jerk and a bully, who demands a rivalry with the protagonist just because it suits the ideal of heroism he was brought up to aspire to. And even as he's received a wake-up call in regards to his earlier behaviour as as Book Two, it's clear he still has a bit of toxicly masculine preconceptions yet to unlearn (to poor boy hasn't even figured out pickup artistry is bullshit, for Aphrodite's sake!). He's certainly made some strides towwards becoming a better person in his introduction, don't get me wrong, but he's definitely still got a ways to go. Also, it bookends the series quite nicely for the first book to focus on the hero while the last book spotlights the rival.

But enough of these more esoteric theories, and move on to one with more meat on it, and also the one most likely to be proven wrong or right by Book Three's release...

Helseng is the Angel of Death

Okay, this one might need more explaining, sop for those not in the know, Will's Midgaheim stories take place in the same universe as his earlier novel, No Sympathies, a comedic take on Biblical angels and demons (and also his alt history 1950s kaiju series Atomic Time of Monsters, sort of, it's complicated). This connection has become more apparent as the series has gone on, with demons and their pacts with mortal witches becoming important to solving the mystery of Book Two, and Book Three focusing on the "occult" side of Will's universe that demons are among the biggest players of.

So, how does that connect with Helseng specifically? Well, Helseng's been hinted to be far more powerful than one might suspect at first. After all, prophecy has been stated throughout the series to be one of the most dangerous forms of magic that only fools should treat lightly, and yet one of the most frequent sources of wisdom in the series offers James a look into his destiny from a roadside stand, and she always leaves when one's back is turned with no trace, without any of the obvious telltale bursts of smoke or sound that not even the most powerful wizards' use of Evocation can avoid. And angels and demons in Will's world are on par with literal gods, so that fits the power requirement. And while demons tend to keep a low profile when dealing with mortals in Midgaheim, angels seem virtually unheard of, having not even been mentioned by any characters either in this series, whereas demons seem to be at least known, if obscure.

But what really got me on this track was the very element Helseng herself introduced: the Major Arcana of tarot. Each of the Major Arcana of the Tarot deck represents one of the major characters of this series, who embody both the literal meaning of the card's name in some way as well as its meanings in tarot reading. for instance, Ivan represents the Magician card. Magician in Midgaheim specifically refers to a town wizard, wizards in live among everyday people acting as the magical equivalents of local handymen, one of which Ivan was apprenticed to before attending the AAAM, and the vocation Ivan wishes to return to upon graduating. The Magician card itself, meanwhile, represents resourcefulness and inspired action, which Ivan repeatedly demonstrates through his creative applications of spellcasting and how he can use that to help his friends out of a bind on many occasions. Helseng's Arcana, which is to be revealed in story in Book Three, is Death, which as she states in her reading, refers not to literal death, but to change and transition, demonstrated by how telling James's fortune sets him on the path to forming the Meddlesome Youths and solving the various wrongdoings that plague the school. Which is all well and good, so how might she represent death literally? Well, the actual angel of death is character in No Sympathies.

This is Azrael. In No Sympathies, she first appears to deliver to Hell the first mortal soul to be tempted into sin, and it is stated that when it comes into question whether a soul should go to Heaven or Hell, it is she who litigates the matter with Hell's Chief Tempter Mephistopheles. And it is the latter that I believe shall become relevant to Wicked Witchcraft, as in the lead up to the book's release, Will posted a compilation of YouTube clips as out of context spoilers for the book's plot points, and in particular it is the three clips for Chapter 13 that I believe pertain to Helseng/Azrael. First is The Trial from Pink Floyd's The Wall, where the artist is put on, well, trial by the monstrous manifestations by the various factors and events in his life that inspired the other songs in the album. Second is an animatic for Epic the Musical's God Games, where Athena argues to Aphrodite and Ares to allow Odysseus to leave Calypso's island. And third is a clip from Netflix's Castlevania anime where the vampire Varney reveals himself to be the show's version of recurring franchise antagonist Death as he explains he needed a mortal's help to open a hellish gate.

Confused? Okay, maybe not, since the clock struck midnight as I was writing this, so if I'm right you might even be reading the relevant chapter by now. But either way, I believe that because of whatever demonic pact for apprenticeship under the Letharg Coven entailed, Gretchen's soul will be considered up for grabs by Hell and Helseng will have to reveal her true identity and intercede on her behalf. Depending on whether the Castlevania clip is meant to refer to a character revealed to be Death or a mortal needed to open some kind of gate or both, the demons might be even more inclined to prosecute their case than usual if Gretchen is vital to increasing their influence over Midgaheim. And for what it's worth, one of Will's Midgaheim based TTRPG campaigns involved the main antagonist making a pact with Hell as a gambit to rule Engelsex, the very kingdom where Wizard School Mysteries is primarily set, so perhaps the climax of the book involves the demons trying to finish what that campaign's villains started?

In any case, it became the day of Book Three's release in the time it took to type up this post (I'm a slow typer, so sue me), so you can go buy the book right now to see whether you should hail me as a prophet or point and laugh at what a big wrong dumb dumb I am.

#midgaheim #wizard school mysteries #wizard school #fantasy #fan theory

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