#haven't been able to find this online and I miss it

[bbanghiitomi]

| when things don't go your way

synopsis: what do you call someone you're not dating but someone in your arms? hanni asks that question herself often but always comes to the same answer: which is you.

— nonidol!filmstudent!phanni! × nonidol!journalismstudent!fem!reader

ლ⁠(⁠^⁠o⁠^⁠ლ⁠) ლ⁠(⁠^⁠o⁠^⁠ლ⁠) ლ⁠(⁠^⁠o⁠^⁠ლ⁠) ლ⁠(⁠^⁠o⁠^

honey ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔ

y/n, are u not coming to see me?

i miss you already...

haven't seen you for a month.

how's ur org doing?

received.

you find yourself smiling as you read her messages, it seems like just the casual hi and hello's, the simple updates that friends are supposed to be sharing with each other aren't enough to satisfy the pham's need to be able to see your face, hear your voice and touch you. she's right actually, the last time you've seen each other was a month ago, before your journalism organization started being busy once again and her life has been a lot more boring ever since. there have been lots of restless nights where you think to yourself that there's no such rest as good as hanni's hugs, you really need her embrace, her arms around your waist.

god i miss her…

you can't help but think to yourself whilst you sit in one of the journalism organization room swivel chairs, working in front of a computer for the next online publishing of the university's news publishing website. it's almost 9pm, the lights are dim and the last person who you were with inside the room was the radio broadcasting group's director — danielle marsh, who then left with the sports writer kang haerin. they've been going in and out together for the past couple of months, which went unnoticed by some members of the faculty as it was seen as “typical” and very on character for them to do so.

you weren't new to that thing too, it's pretty obvious they've got a thing for each other and they're pretty open about it if anything.

unlike you.

just seeing the two made you miss hanni so much more, and it's quite selfish to think of such things because everyone, including the sane part of your brain knew that there's nothing between the two of you except for friendship — worn like a cloak to hide a secret. you can't remember why this whole arrangement between you and hanni started, when did you start sharing kisses? when did you start taking her home? what was the reason you visited her place even if it was late at night? why were you even so adamant about being there for her when she needs someone? why did both of you agree not to put any meaning behind these things? those thoughts were at the back of your mind, it shouldn't matter actually and when you think about it you try not to pry yourself about how it should matter that much — at the end of the day, things are not going to change.

if the walls of your room could talk, your secrets would no longer be something shared between you and hanni.

well, you've been on thin ice for such a long time — at this point, you assume that everyone in your organization and her club already has an idea about your relationship with hanni and are quite in a stump about it but that's too far from the truth, in fact — there were hardly anyone who notices the little things you do. everytime you think about her, the shared secrets together, the things about you that only she knows — you can't even find a reason to hate yourself for entertaining something people won't find appealing. it's been so long, why would you even go back to where it all started to stop this from escalating even further when you could just go with it until the end.

you know, you're going to hold onto this till the end, thinking that there will be that time where you and hanni can settle things down and accept what needs to be accepted and leave what needs to be left behind.

maybe, things will get better eventually…

you just hope you can stick with this until — you can finally call her… yours.

honey ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔ

hm…

i'll think about it.

miss me already?

the org's doing just fine, hbu?

sent.

you drop your phone on the table as you close the tabs of the computer and then turn the computer off. you stay on the chair for a few more minutes, waiting for her reply as you fiddle the hem of your shirt with your fingers. quite nervous, confused as to why you were nervous — you can't help but just laugh, not having any explanation as to why you're suddenly acting like a giddy teenager girl over your so-called "friend".

crap… you think to yourself, it's really late now but you were hoping to see her again, at least even for just an hour or-so.

i wonder what she's up to now.

honey ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔ

oh! the club's doing well!

we just finished our project and were hoping to release it soon.

you know how giddy i get about it, right?

i wish you were here with me so i can tell you all about it.

received.

you feel the familiar heat crawling up to your cheeks, you tap at the screen only for a few seconds and then pick it up. you wonder why, even before you kissed her, no matter how many times you tried setting yourself up with other girls — it wasn't effective at all. behind those words you told other people is hanni lingering at the back of your mind, the image of her face clear in your eyes until you just gave up, leaving yourself falling into her arms.

just how many times have i tried?

i can't even remember.

you thought then just gave up.

honey ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔ

yeah…

i wish i was there, where are you anyway?

i mean, maybe i can come and see you.

right?

sent.

you stare at her message for a few seconds then you stand up and grab your bag that's been left unattended on the floor for a few hours since you first started working on the articles. you have absolutely no idea about what you're doing, it's just you doing whatever once again and doing it in the most random time ever but that's just because you missed hanni so much.

it won't hurt, right?

spending just some time to see her again.

honey ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔ

wait, really?

i mean…

that's great!

but what about your roommate?

will minji not look for you?

received.

that's the thing, minji has been your roommate for almost two years — yes, that long. she's practically like your sibling at this point, one that you can always trust and lean on when you need a shoulder to hold onto or someone to cry on. minji used to be also a part of the film making organization in your university. she used to work with hanni on some projects for school until she left to focus on writing her own stuff on her own accord. so, minji is someone hanni already knew before she met you.

minji knows your thing with hanni and is at first troubled by it, but then it's not like it's something unethical, right? it's just secrets and a relationship with no label, it doesn't hurt anyone aside from you and hanni. that's the thing, minji feels bad that you subject yourself to self-harm — which is a relationship where you have no right to feel jealous about. she knows it sucks, how many times have she asked you: “what’s really between you and hanni?” and you always answer her. “nothing, we're close friends.” even though she's seen you cuddling with hanni on your couch, awfully closer than normal.

she worries your mother might find out even before you make it official between the two of you,

you know, she knows you're screwed if it were to happen.

minji has basically given up prying her way into your business but still tries to watch out whenever you feel sad or frustrated. she's always there when you need her — she's obviously a great friend that even your parents trust.

honey ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔ

nah, don't worry

i’ll tell her.

she’ll be alright.

where are you?

sent.

honey ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔ

great, i’m here at my condominium

just, you know? waiting…

hope you come here asap

;)))

received.

you grab your backpack and sling to your shoulder, making your way past the rows of computers lined and exiting the room. you see the dim corridor, your eyes follow along the lines of doors and the straight path to the stairways, and under the dark hall the pictures of when you first met hanni lingered at the back of your mind, right at the end of the corridor.

r u carps, min?

hey minji,

bro

i won't be home 2night

take care of the dorm and heat up the pizza

i got some money under the flower base and just take it to order sum whatever…

lov ur roommate, y/n

sent.

and with a blink, you come back to reality and start running your way to the stairs and reaching the ground floor — rushing as soon as possible to get to the open parking lot where your scooter is parked, you open your top box with your keys and immediately place your bag inside before locking it once again.

r u carps, min?

dude wtf?

why now? ur mom will be here tomorrow.

y/n?

hey!

BRO!!!!

ur such an asshole

you know that?

come on…

ur dead

received.

as the engine ignites, all your worries are pushed back behind before the motor accelerates and you finally find your way outside the campus then to her condominium.

“you’ve been away for so long.” hanni grumbles, arms wrapping themselves around your torso, you laugh at her expression, a cute pout adoring her pink lips and her eyes full of stars inside of them. it's almost like she has the universe in her pupils. “only for a month by the way, i’m guessing you really feel lonely here.” you tell her, raising your brows at her direction with a smile on your lips. she nods, snuggling closer to your body on the bed, she feels like a koala the way she couldn't let go of your figure.

“of course! aside from my parents, you're really the only one i want here with me.” she says, well it's nothing but the truth but hearing it made something inside you tremble. it's something you cannot understand but something you feel very deep inside, you only smile at her.

she could bring anyone she wants here.

and you would still not be able to tell her nothing, because you have no right to do so.

she's free to do whatever she wants to do.

and that must be your fault, right?

you place a hand on top of her head, patting her soft hair under your palm. “seriously, this is why you feel lonely. having a friend or two here other than me wouldn't be so bad.” you express out of genuine feelings, though it's nice to know you're the only one she wants, you can't help but feel guilty that you're making her wait or expect too much to the point she's not allowing anyone inside of her life aside from you.

at the end of the day, you only want her to be happy.

but that's not the case, for a relationship that doesn't have any label — hanni seems committed to it.

you haven't even said anything but she's already sure she's yours, and it honestly makes you feel bad even if it is a mutual feeling you two both share.

“i really only want you…” hanni buries her head on your neck, snuggling close for warmth and you can't help but wrap your arm around her, to keep her close as if anyone was going to take her away from you if you don't. “it's okay, i won't be away for any longer anymore. i promise.” you whisper, you feel hanni nod her head and feel her lips against your skin as she speaks. “promise me you’ll be here with me forever?” you look down on her, eyes directly on her cheek, her face hidden on your neck. “i will.” you smile at her.

maybe, you are really that tired that when you open your eyes it's already 9am in the morning yet hanni is still wrapped around your arms. the sun shines so much brighter on days like this, it must have been her presence beside you and everyday should have been like this if things were different.

there is still a chance for you to change it.

you start to see it.

“are you sure i can come to you and minji’s place today?” hanni asks, looking up from her plate of food, she tilts her head as she asks, eyes meeting your own pair. “well yeah, you know minji would never mind.” you say, bringing your utensils down before smiling at her direction. “besides, it’s not a busy day today.” you add.

you take the helmet in hanni’s hands and help her wear it on her head, making sure it's strapped tight. as your hands let go of the helmet, you notice hanni staring at your face and you raise your brows at her. “what?” you ask. hanni giggles and shakes her head. “nothing, i just… feel giddy about being with you today after what felt like forever.” she says and you almost saw the entire galaxy inside of her eyes the way it shines, the wait the light sparkles, you can't help but be mesmerized.

you nod at her and place a kiss on her cheek. “of course, it's not everyday we get to be like this together.” you huff and hop on the motor, hanni follows and wraps her arms around your waist.

when you get to your shared apartment’s front door you notice the weird aura of the place, you hesitate to open the door as you stand still looking at the wooden entrance, hanni peeks behind you and wonders why you haven't touched the doorknob.

now… i must be paranoid.

it's oddly quiet or somehow, there's a strange presence looming around the place and you don't know what it was.

you take the doorknob in your hand and feel its cold surface, sending shivers on your spine. you twist it and enter inside, slowly stepping a foot and looking around to see if anyone beside minji is present, hanni follows quietly but is still confused. your eyes widen when you spot your mom standing by the living room and seemingly pacing around, in panic and quite in a rush, impatient.

you feel a rush of adrenaline pumping in your veins as you immediately take a step back, pull hanni outside then close the door gently. “w-what’s wrong? is there an intruder inside?” hanni asks, worried that there might actually be an intruder, which ironically turned out to be your mom. you laugh sheepishly and scratch the back of your head. “uh no? i just remembered that minji wasn't around and… we can go grab food somewhere before coming back—” your words are cut off when the door opens to, none other than minji.

“minji..?” hanni looks behind you, to the door as minji stands with a hard expression on her face.

“where have you been?” minji asks, her tone is strict and impatient for an immediate answer, her eyes bore behind you and then dart back at hanni. “and why is hanni here?” she adds to the pile of questions.

you turn around and shake your head. “ah, i didn't know you were here… crap, i was at her place yesterday and i thought i’d hang around with her here ‘cause you wouldn't mind, right?” you shrug, minji kept her serious face but sighs, rubbing her temple with her fingers. “y/n, i won't of course. but you know who will?” she says, clearly frustrated.

hanni squints her eyes at minji. “who?”

“her mom, she's here today, waiting for y/n inside.” minji answers, you flinch at the idea before turning your head at hanni who frowns and looks away. “i didn't know she'd be here!” you whisper aggressively, rubbing your face with your hand.

“dude, i messaged you yesterday. you didn't even bother reading it.” minji argues, which was the truth but you were riding your scooter to hanni's place when you received the message — it was the reason you didn't have the time to read it.

with your face buried on your palm, you grumbled. “dude, i was riding my scooter that time…”

hanni sighs and places her hand on your shoulder, you put your head up and look at her. “i’m leaving for now i guess, you'd be in more trouble if she sees me.” hanni says, giving you a small smile.

you furrow your brows, you think to yourself that there must be a way — there's something you can definitely do, doesn't matter what there has to be something!

you stare at her, pursing your lips before reaching out for her hand and shaking your head. “no, you'll stay. don't worry i’ll take care of this, please just stay.” you tell her, minji’s expression turns into confusion — as if, your ways of salvaging you and hanni's relationship seemed absurd to minji's level of understanding.

“wait? y/n are you crazy? you're gonna get you both in trouble!” minji says, already scolding you even before the trouble happens. you look at her and shake your head, holding hanni’s hand tight. “no, that's my mom — i know her, we’ll be alright. i promise.” you look back at hanni to give her a small smile again, caressing the soft skin of her hand under yours to soothe the unstable feeling stressing her out.

the door opens once again but this time it's your mother who exits and her eyes dart at the three figures standing. “y/n? where have you been, young lady!” she yells, you laugh and look at her with a sheepish expression before pulling hanni slightly closer beside you. “i stayed somewhere only for a night. i swear, no troubles.” your mother seems to notice hanni’s presence beside you and raises her brow towards hanni, her scary aura unchanging.

hanni took a deep breath, opening her lips as if about to say a word but she fails miserably when your mother glares at her. “and who is this girl?” your mother asks, her voice asking irritatedly. you look at hanni before wrapping your arm around her torso, getting a look of doubt from your mother but mostly directed to hanni, who gulps a lump inside her throat. “hi — i’m y/n’s —”

“she's my girlfriend, mom.” you grin at your mother, hanni and minji both looked shocked at the sudden revelation — you were confident, this time you’re sure and there's no way you’ll take it back again, not this time or never again. hanni looks at you and her eyes shake when it meets your mother's gaze.

“oh, what..?” minji mutters, feeling her head spinning, she blinks in confusion and looks at the three people all facing one another. hanni blushes, aggressively gripping the hem of your shirt, looking up at you as if you said something crazy which is indeed crazy, out of character even.

“oh, really?” your mom adds, her voice softens but her eyes remain the same.

hanni looks at your mom, nodding her head gently.

“yes, i’m your daughter’s girlfriend, ma'am. nice to meet you…” hanni smiles, still quite hesitant, like a curious cat dipping its paws in something it doesn't know — but in hanni’s case she has her hand sticking out for a handshake.

somehow, your mother's eyes softened or is hanni just deluding herself into believing so?

she hopes, your mom did — because she shouldn't be seeing things, she's still sane after all!

yes, your mother did soften her gaze.

hanni may not be that crazy after all.

just a little, just for you.

“yeah! you're okay with it, right mom? hanni’s a very nice girl and she lets me sleep at her place when i stay at school late and she cooks me breakfast and she helps me with my homeworks. she helps me clean my room, helps me with my laundry and —” even before you finish rambling about how hanni basically keeps your life stable your mom raises her index finger to your way to shush you down before she steps forward to take a closer look at hanni.

your mother looks at hanni’s hand and reaches for it before shaking it, feeling hanni’s sweating and trembling hand. “nice to meet you, is my daughter too much work? i know she's a little handful sometimes.” you slump your shoulders as you mother jokes, hanni laughs— you notice the change in her voice, feeling your girlfriend starting to relax herself. “she isn't, i’m happy to be helping her.” hanni answers, feeling her cheeks flush and her blood boiling on her face.

“that's good to know, she's very dependent.”

minji nods and huffs. “yes, she is!” you roll your eyes at her.

you mother lets go of hanni’s hand and turns away to walk inside the door, but before she enters she calls for minji. “help me arrange the table.” she says, to which minji followed almost immediately.

hanni feels like laughing, there's a certain type of warmth blooming inside of her when she realizes what just happened. she blinks only for a bit, trying to do something to make sure she isn't daydreaming or dreaming whilst asleep — and she had just confirmed that she is indeed awake, none of what happened was fake and the warmth of your arm proved it.

“hanni.” you call out to her. hanni puts a hand on her mouth and looks up at you, starstrucked to actually see your mother up close.

“i’m your girlfriend?” she asks, to make sure you're not bluffing.

you smile and nod, giving her the type of gaze that means “i love you”.

“you are, you're my girlfriend.” you tell her.

hanni feels like crying this time, there's something about it that she can't explain — something about finally being able to hold onto something that isn't a thin thread of hope for something that will break apart in no time, without her knowing. something about finally being able to actually express her feelings without holding back sends waves of relief inside of hanni.

why has she not thought of this earlier? why didn't you tell her that earlier?

hanni embraces you in a tight hug, her face buried in your shoulder as she sobs. “oh my god…” you feel her speak. you laugh, petting her head. “hey now, i promise i’m not lying.”

hanni sniffs and looks up at you. “i love you.” she whispers, eyes covered with tears and cheeks are bright red, before breaking into a wide smile. “i love you too.” you tell her back before giving her a small kiss on her lips.

#female reader #kpop #kpop imagines #newjeans #newjeans imagines #girl group #hanni #girlgroup imagines #hanni pham #pham hanni #newjeans x reader #newjeans hanni

[multifanhoe99]

Kinktober Day 24- Wax Play

Pairing: The8 x GN!Reader

Warnings: Happy ending massage, nickname of baby used, soft dom!The8, unprotected sex, creampie.

=Let me know if I missed any.=

18+ MDNI

PROMPT LIST

MASTERLIST

Your boyfriend Minghao knew that you've been very stressed lately so he wanted to do something that would help. It took a bit of searching online but, he was finally able to find one of those candles that turned into massage oil. He figured it'd be a great way to kill two birds with one stone. Not only would he get to help you relax but, you both would get the chance to try something that you've been wanting to do for a long time. The idea of playing with temperature while you two were intimate was very appealing and you both have been wanting to try wax play but, just haven't found the time to do it. Now, it was time to try it.

Minghao figured it'd be best if he surprised you with it. So, when you came home that day you were very surprised to be greeted by him holding some flowers.

"I got you something," he said with a huge grin on his face.

You smiled as you walked over to him and took the flowers. "Thank you, they're beautiful," you said before giving him a kiss. Minghao took your hand and led you to the bedroom where he had set up some candles and soft music.

"I know you've been feeling stressed lately, so I thought we could have a relaxing evening together." You couldn't help but feel your heart swell with love for him. Minghao was always so thoughtful and caring towards you. As you both sat on the bed, he pulled out the massage candle and lit it.

"Are you ready to try something new?" he asked with a smirk.

You looked at him curiously, not sure what he meant. Minghao then explained the concept of the candle and how it turned into massage oil. You were intrigued and excited to try it out. As the candle melted, the room filled with a warm, soothing atmosphere. He helped you undress and get comfortable before helping you lay down flat on your stomach. Your back was exposed to him now.

Minghao took a moment to admire your beauty before taking the now-melted candle and pouring some of the oil onto your shoulders. The sensation was warm, but not hot enough to hurt you. He then began to massage your shoulders and back, his skilled hands working out the knots and tension that had built up in your muscles.

He continued to work his way down your body, each touch sending shivers down your spine. When he reached your lower back, he poured some of the melted wax onto your skin. The sensation was a mix of warm and hot, but it was not painful. He used his fingers to spread the wax and massage your lower back, each touch sending new waves of pleasure throughout your body.

You couldn't help but moan in pleasure as he worked the massage oil into your skin. The scent of lavender filling the room helped you feel so relaxed and his hands felt so good on your body. Soon, Minghao pours some of the oil on your ass and begins massaging it. His touch felt so warm and you couldn't help but feel yourself getting aroused. He began to massage your ass, slowly but firmly.

"Minghao..." you moan out softly.

"Do you like that?" he asks, still massaging your ass. The only response you give him is a moan. He chuckles at your response and continues.

"Minghao..." you moan out once again.

"You want more?" he asks, smirking.

"Please..." you respond.

With that, Minghao takes his hands and spreads your ass cheeks apart, exposing your tight hole. His cock grows rock-hard at the sight of it. He then pours some of the massage oil down there and begins massaging. Slowly, he works his finger in and out of you, feeling you squeeze around his finger. The feeling of his finger inside you slowly working in and out as well as the warm, relaxing feeling of the oil... you couldn't help but moan out in pleasure.

Minghao smiles as he works his finger in and out of you, loving the fact that he's making you feel so good. He then takes his finger out and pours more oil onto your ass, rubbing it into your skin as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him. His hard cock pressed up against your ass cheek. He continues rubbing you and kissing your neck.

As he began to kiss your neck, he took his dick with one hand and positioned it against your tight entrance. With a flick of the wrist, he easily slides his cock into you. He couldn't help but let out a soft moan as he felt his cock go in, feeling your warm tightness surround his cock.

"Fuck..." he moans out lightly as he slides his cock in and out of you.

"Mmm... Minghao..." you moan out softly.

He kept his rhythm slow and steady, taking his time to build up the pleasure as he slid his cock in and out of you. You could feel the building pleasure inside you as he took his time thrusting his cock in and out of you, every thrust sending new waves of pleasure throughout your body. Each thrust makes your body more and more aroused. You could feel yourself approaching your orgasm. The warmth and pleasure of the oil mixed with the warmth of his cock inside of you.

"Oh, baby, you feel so good squeezing me like that," he said.

"Keep going, baby," you moaned, "I am gonna cum soon."

He started to fuck into you at a faster pace. Both of you chasing your orgasms. The room filled with the scent of lavender and the sound of your moans. The pleasure began to build for you both until you just couldn't take it anymore. You came after a few pumps and then he came not too long after.

"How do you feel now, baby," he asks.

"I feel a lot more relaxed," you reply.

"That's good," he said, "How about I run us a hot bath and then we can cuddle and relax for the rest of the night?"

"Sounds perfect to me," you say. That is exactly what the two of you did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I thought I would write something a little bit softer and more relaxing. Honestly, this is just catharsis. This is what I need but am not gonna get so I gotta live it out somehow.

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #k pop smut #x reader #minghao x reader #the8 x reader #seventeen smut #minghao smut #the8 smut #minghao seventeen #the8 seventeen #seventeen

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Plan

So the poll is still running, but I think I'm safe in saying there's sufficient interest, so I'm going ahead and typing up a "how we're going to do this" thing, which I will schedule to post after the poll ends properly. As of the time I'm writing this, over 500 people have voted for the "yes I want to draw things" option, and I had been expecting to get maybe a dozen, so we definitely have enough participants. Let's get started then:

Our Source

I had originally planned to translate an Old or Middle English bestiary, but haven't been able to find a good one -- the best option I was able to dig up only has thirteen critters, which I feel like isn't enough to really have fun with. I was debating the idea of translating a Latin one -- this would have been far more time-consuming since my Latin is terrible, but also I do need to practice it, so I figured it evens out -- when I found a solution that doesn't involve me spending hours and hours on translating.

It seems that when Aberdeen University created their digitized version of the famous Aberdeen Bestiary, they released it under a Creative Commons license. (Assuming I'm reading their copyright policy correctly; I'm not a lawyer.) It does not seem to specify whether the transcriptions and translations they attach to the scanned images are also covered by Creative Commons, but since all of those are already freely available online through their website, I can't imagine they would have a problem with me posting them here as long as I provide attribution (which I am hereby doing right here on this post) and am not using it for commercial purposes (which I am not).

The Aberdeen Bestiary is missing a few pages, but there exists a very similar manuscript, the Ashmole Bestiary (they're sometimes called "sister" manuscripts), which is not missing those pages. And I happen to have a translation of the Ashmole Bestiary in hardcopy on my bookshelf, so I can just use it to fill in the gaps. Edit: whoops, the one I have is the Bodley Bestiary. They are in the same bestiary "family", though, so it still works well enough. (I think that should qualify as "fair use", since I'm only taking excerpts and not using them commercially.)

The upside of using the Aberdeen Bestiary is that it means when I round up all the art of each critter, I can include their very nice illustrations alongside the reveal of what animal was being described.

The downside of using the Aberdeen Bestiary is that since it already is free online, people might be tempted to "cheat" by looking up the entries and finding out what animal they describe. For that, please see the next section...

Guessing the Animal

Guessing what animal is being described is not the point of the exercise. (Feel free to have theories and whatnot, but please keep them to yourself so as not to influence the artists.) If you see an entry and think, e.g., "oh that's describing a raccoon"*, and then you create a picture of a raccoon... well, you could have done a perfectly good raccoon at any point and didn't need this framework to do it. So just don't worry about what animal is meant, and do your best to draw (or paint or stitch or whatever else) based on the description! You're not getting ranked on accuracy and there are no prizes forthcoming, so... just have fun with it.

*Example chosen as something that will, for obvious reasons, definitely not be in a 13th-century European bestiary.

Edit after starting to type these things up: some of these are going to be super easy to guess, though, to the point where I don't know how possible it'll be to block out prior knowledge. Sorry about that.

General Procedure

I'm going to schedule a post every Monday (I'm thinking of queuing them for 6pm Eastern Time) with a new entry. It will be the translation of an entry from the Aberdeen Bestiary with all references to the animal's name replaced by a randomly-generated nonsense word. (Henceforth to be referred to as "nonsense-names". I'm Googling* each one before using them so I don't accidentally generate one that actually means something.) These posts will all be tagged maniculum bestiaryposting, so you can follow that tag if you want to make sure you see them.'

*Later Note: Did you know that if you search dozens of nonsense words within a short span of time, Google makes you prove you're not a robot? Repeatedly?

Anyone who wants to draw the critter being described should do so. (You are encouraged to describe your thought process re: why you've depicted it the way you have.) You can put it in its own post, or reblog the description with an image, or however you want to do it. Then tag your art with the nonsense-name I've given to the animal.This will let me and others find it. (You should probably employ copy/paste there to make sure the spelling is the same, since nonsense words are hard to spellcheck.)

A week after posting the bestiary entry, I'll go through that tag and round up all of the art contributed. Then I'll put the images in a big post (or series thereof, considering how many people might participate), along with an @ and a link to your original post.

If you want...

to not have your work included in the round-up post

to have only a link to your post included and not an image

to have me include a link to your website / other social media / etsy shop in addition to or instead of your tumblr

to have other information included alongside your work

anything else along those lines

... then just say so in your post and I will follow your instructions to the best of my ability.

I will also include, at the end of the round-up post, an image of the creature as depicted in the Aberdeen Bestiary and what it is actually called.

All posts I make on this will be collected at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting so that people can look at previous ones without scrolling through the tag.

Various Notes

I'm going to trim out any religious digressions in the original entries -- bestiary authors had a habit of adding stuff like "and the raccoon is symbolic of god in such-and-such fashion, which teaches us...", and I just don't think that's relevant here.

The entries will also be presented in a random order. This is because they're sorted into categories in the original text, so if I don't change the order we're going to get stuck with, e.g., a few months of All Birds All The Time.

You should all be aware that the animals described are not guaranteed to be, you know, real. There are several entries describing animals that straight up do not exist -- some of which are mythical creatures familiar to most people, others of which are extremely obscure.

Explanations of the animal's name within the entries will be redacted.

If other animals are mentioned within the entries, they will not get replaced with nonsense-names. Originally, I was going to make the switch globally, so that if, e.g., the entry for "raccoon" read "a raccoon is about the size of a possum", and the random generator had decided that a raccoon was a balzikhear and a possum was a flunggrish, the "raccoon" entry would now read "a balzikhear is about the size of a flunggrish". However, I decided that it will cause more problems than it solves to obscure any comparisons to other animals -- so the name-switch is now localized only to the specific entry. A possum is a flunggrish only in its own entry, and remains a possum everywhere else.

I was originally going to do one post for every single entry, but there are a lot of them and they vary wildly in length & quality. So I've cut it down to exactly 52 posts, meaning that if I queue them up for once a week, this will run for roughly a full year.

Most of that cutting-down mentioned above was done by combining a bunch of the really short entries into categories -- the last half-dozen posts in this series will be group entries. You can choose to make art of any of them that strike your fancy, or do a group portrait, or just ignore them --I dunno, I'm not a cop, do what you want.

I did also directly cut some, mostly domesticated animals because there's a somewhat different approach to them based on author and audience familiarity.

So yeah, that should cover everything.

#maniculum bestiaryposting

[darkbluekies]

Silas asks #5

Previous one next one

Concept: I've put multiple asks into one post to avoid too much loose posts on my account! This way, you have more to read too<3

Warnings: mafia, yandere, isolation ... the normal stuff

In Intruder, would Silas still have been able to find the reader if she didn't look to see what was on the USB? (Perhaps she didn't know she had a foreign USB in her purse in the first place) You mentioned Silas could see her on the webcam, but I assumed that was because she used the USB on the computer. Also, if she didn't see the USB would Silas have taken it back without question or would he have still kidnapped the reader? Sorry for all the questions, I'm just curious hehe 😅

Hm, interesting question. I think that Silas would be able to find the USB one way or another, either through a tracker on it or hacking into surveillance cameras to follow her. He would most likely not be too interested in getting her, but would think of her when he leaves ... which means that he'll be back for her.

There's this meme on tiktok that goes "my blickyyyyyy upon the dresseeeerrrrr" it remind me so much of Silas who definitely is the type of dude with a gun in his dresser 🔫 🔫

I haven't seen that meme, but Silas would 100% keep a gun in his dresser! For uh "safety reasons". Not to keep you in the room no no

Do you think the reader would ever develop Stockholm syndrome with Silas?

I actually think so. He treats you well when you're obedient so if you don't try to escape and actually listen to what he says, he will be the most wonderful man you can ever get your hands on. And that's dangerous for your mental health because anyone would fall for that.

With that Broken reader x Silas fanfic Does the reader have a caretaker that had been helping them?

[fanfic?]

Oneshot it's basef off of (i think)

No, Silas doesn't want anyone to be close to you, escpecially not after what you've been trough. He's scared that you'll fall for someone else in your fragile state. He needs you to be reliant on him only. You're vulnerable, perfect for him to mold how he wants you to be.

LOVING SILAS SM MWAH MWAH MWAH LEMME KITH YOU omg but like.. 😳 what if he grows to lowkey miss gen z reader's remarks and jokes in the long run😶. like ok yeah big man got what he wanted😮‍💨🫥 but now reader doesnt laugh or smile anymore cause theyre lowkey highkey traumatized😁💧 ykwim????

[omg thank you for the kith hehe]

Then he'll try to bring it back! Silas thinks that you're a toy that he can break and bend to be how he wants you to be. Somehow you'll be back to normal, he just needs to figure out how. He'll regret breaking you down so badly and will do his best to crack your numb shell.

"I like it when you smile. Come on, baby, curse at me. You know you like that. Tell a joke, I'll laugh, I promise. No, you won't get punished, little thing."

The Valentine's day ask for Silas got me thinking, what if his s/of wanted to get job? (cause I can't just do nothing all day) And since I'm sure he wouldn't let us go somewhere, what if we asked for him to hire us? (Cause if he wouldn't we can start looking for a online job or a job where we could leave and come back without getting caught) We can basically do some clean up or just paperwork 🤔. Also sorry if my English is bad

He'd hate the thought of you working because he thinks that you should be doing things you liked, but if you really had to, he'd keep you in his office, right by his side, where you can go through some papers. Of course not the ones that could make you scared. If there are no papers for you to go through, he'll print fake ones, just so you'll have something to do. As long as he'd keep you occupied, you'd not complain about being bored or wanting to leave.

"Ah, how about a break? We should take a nap on the couch. We've been working so well, don't you think, little thing? Come here, baby, let me hold you."

Silas be like "I'm gonna torture you badly" I be like "I like that"🥴Chain me up in the basement for punishment? "oooh kinky"Psychological torture? "Hey how'd you know I like mind games?"Threaten friends and family? *Looks around sarcastically "where are they? I don't see them!" 🙃In conclusion, I identify as a chaotic neutral that cannot be contained. Go ahead, do your worst! It'll be fun~ >:3

You'd be Silas's nightmare.

Ok that was weird how would Silas react to a mc who was in awe about how rich he was and shocked when they arrive at his mansion?

[what was weird ...?]

He'd be shocked. He's been in defense mode to give you a fright, to scare you into obedience ... but you're not scared?

"If I live here? Uh yeah, i do ... what about it? You like it? Yeah, I guess it's nice. Do you really like it that much?"

Hello 👁🫦👁. I love all your stories and I'm trying to figure out how best to behave with Silas so that he doesn't lock me in the basement, but also doesn't break my mind or bones😭p.s. i love the yandere characters but even chatting with AI yanderes gives me bad endings

As long as you do as he says, (you stay in your room, doesn't complain too much, doesn't nag and demand him to be let out) he'll be pleased with you. He'll take you out for dinner and dates and be more patient with you. The more you demand of him, the less likely you'll get it and the quicker you'll end up in the basement. He wants to be treated as a human being, depsite all the bad things he's done to you :)

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere fics #yandere mafia #yandere stories #yandere talks #yandere oc x you #yandere headcanon #yandere reactions #yandere asks #yandere ocs x reader #yandere ocs #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #silas oc

[bookshelf-in-progress]

The True Story: An Epistolary Novelette

An intrusive fantasy story for @inklings-challenge

I. Christine Hendry to the proprietor of Wright and Co.

Sir or Madam:

I feel like such a fool for reaching out to you--a stranger whose business card happened to be tucked in the pages of an ancient book on my grandmother's shelf. I don't even know if your shop exists anymore; signs are against it, because I can't find so much as a phone number to contact you by. Nothing but an address and a name: Wright and Co.: Specialists in Rare, Antique, and Nonexistent Books.

That last category is the only reason I'm bothering to write at all. I'm looking for what seems to be a nonexistent book, so I may as well try writing to a shop that may or may not be real.

When I was a little girl, my grandmother read to me from a copy of Song of the Seafolk by Marjorie A. Penrose. It was an American children's fantasy from--I believe--the 1950s, all about a family getting mixed up with mermaids on a tiny Atlantic island. It had beautiful black-and-white illustrations, and language so lyrical that I still remember passages even though I haven't read it in nearly twenty years. My grandmother loved it to bits, and read it to me a dozen times after I came to live with her. I went off to college, and jobs, and travel, and I haven't much thought about that book--or, to be honest, my grandmother--since I left the house.

But now Grandma has a broken hip, and there's no one else to care for her, so I've come back. The moment I stepped back into that house, I found I wanted nothing more than to read that book. To her, if possible. I need to return the favor.

But the book is nowhere to be found. I've searched through all her bookshelves (extensive), closets (messy), and storage boxes (many and varied), to no avail. I resigned myself to the necessity of buying a new copy, but there are no new copies for sale. Or any old copies. None in any library. Not even a hint of its existence online. All my inquiries to cashiers and librarians have been met with blank stares. It seems like no one in the world has even heard of that book except my grandmother and me.

So I write to you from sheer desperation. A cry into the void. If your shop does exist, and you are a real person, is there any chance in the world that you have the book I want? Knowing now how rare the book apparently is, I shudder to think of the price you'd charge, but as long as I don't have to sell any limbs to pay for it, I find myself willing to pay almost any price. Of course, that's assuming you're a real person reading this, and you by some miracle have the book, and you haven't thrown this letter away while sneering at the lunatic who wrote it.

If all those things somehow manage to be true, please write back to me at this address, and I assume we'll be able to arrange some method of payment.

Yours, in desperation,

Christine Hendry

II. Benjamin Wright to Christine Hendry

Miss Hendry:

I am pleased to inform you that Wright and Co. does still exist, and it maintains its specialty of supplying books that can be found nowhere else. It is unsurprising that you were unable to locate a second copy of the book, because a glance through our sales records show that the book was purchased from this very shop in 1968 (which is likely why your grandmother was in possession of our business card), and comes from our specialized stock of books that exist nowhere else in the world.

These books tend to appear on our shelves at unpredictable times, and rarely in batches of more than one or two, so I feared I would be unable to grant your request. Yet I have sometimes found that these books appear in response to a need, so I searched the shelves, and to my delight, found the book tucked into a corner of our children's section.

The books from our special selection sometimes wander back to our store's shelves when they are no longer needed by their purchasers, and it appears that this is what happened in this case, because the book I found bears signs of ownership by a Mrs. Dorothy Hendry. Since I cannot charge you for your own book, I have taken the liberty of shipping the copy of Song of the Seafolk along with this letter.

I humbly beg your forgiveness for the suffering this has caused, and I sincerely hope Wright and Co. will be able to serve you in any future literary needs.

Faithfully yours,

Benjamin Wright

III. Christine Hendry to Benjamin Wright

Mr. Wright:

I'm glad you couldn't see how red my face got when I received your response. It's one thing to send a letter when there's a miniscule chance of a reply, but getting a reply and knowing that a real, living person read your words is a very different (mortifying) thing. I would never have written that letter the way I did if I had fully comprehended that it was going to be read by a complete stranger.

My only consolation is that my letter wasn't half as strange as your reply. What do you mean, the books appear on the shelves and wander back? How on Earth did you send me a copy of my own book??

Because you're right--it's the exact copy I remember from my childhood. The same purple clothbound cover with the mermaid and lighthouse stamped into it. The same jelly stain inside the back cover. Page 54 has a torn corner, and the mermaid on page 126 has a unibrow penciled onto her face. Even if my grandmother hadn't written her name in the cover, I'd have known it for the same book. Yet she would never have donated--or even sold--Song of the Seafolk, even after I moved away. She loved it too much.

Yet somehow you sent it to me. I'm so grateful that I won't even accuse you of sending a ring of book thieves to raid my grandmother's shelves.

I read the book to my grandmother this weekend, and it was like the years fell away, and we were back in the warm glow of my childhood bedroom, completely at ease with the world. The pain medication leaves Grandma foggy sometimes, but there were several points when she smiled, closed her eyes, and recited the book along with me word for word. I'd try to repay you in some way for facilitating that, but some things are priceless.

However you got the book, it seems to prove you're able to achieve the impossible, and because of that, I'm going to bother you with another request. Grandma loves fantasy, but her true love is mystery novels. She has a whole bookshelf devoted to them, mostly Golden Age paperbacks--country house novels, a smattering of noir. I feel like there's so little joy in her life right now, but the one thing I could provide would be a new mystery. Yet, looking at her shelves, I suspect that she's read every book of this type that exists. So I'm going to ask you to live up to that Nonexistent in your name and find me a Golden-Age-esque mystery that no one--not even Grandma--has read yet. If you can achieve that, I would be grateful for whatever you can send me.

Yours with gratitude,

Christine Hendry

IV. Benjamin Wright to Christine Hendry

Miss Hendry:

I am afraid I can answer very few of your questions as to the workings of this shop, at least when it comes to our specialized stock. Among the shelves of Wright and Co., there will on occasion appear a book which no employee has ordered--books with unfamiliar titles by unfamiliar authors, which have the appearance of age and wear, but cannot be found in any other shop, and have no history of publication by any firm. Yet there is always a reader--sometimes several, if the shop staff takes to reading it--who finds that it perfectly satisfies their tastes and fills some unmet need, as if the book was dreamt up just for them. These books seem to come into existence just when needed, and sometimes wander away when they're not.

We have several theories about the origins of these books, very few of them sensible. Perhaps they come from other worlds, where history went just a bit differently from ours. Perhaps they are books that authors dreamed up but never wrote. Perhaps they are spontaneously created in response to a reader's desires. I have learned not to question it. I merely accept the books as a gift--and bestow them as gifts to those in need.

To that end, I have honored your request for a mystery. Though I've no doubt there are many more ordinary books that could fulfill your desire (any seller of used books could tell you that this genre is far more extensive than most individual readers suspect), there is a book that appeared on our shelves last autumn that I feel will exactly fit your grandmother's tastes. The Wings of Hermes by Elizabeth Tern casts Oxford don Joseph Quill in the role of amateur sleuth, as he is pulled into the intrigue surrounding a piece of ancient Greek statuary. Quill is a very literary detective, in the vein of Gamadge or Wimsey, though his story has a touch of noir and more than a tinge of melancholy. I feel the book will be satisfying to a woman who has been a patron of our shop, and I hope it will fulfill its intended role of aiding in her recovery.

Yours faithfully,

Benjamin Wright

V. Christine Hendry to Benjamin Wright

Darling Benjamin,

Do you think I'm stupid? Or are you just insane? Do you expect me to swallow all that rigamarole about magic teleporting books? If it's a joke, you tell it with an alarmingly straight face, and frankly, it seems in poor taste (and poor business practice) to dump it all onto unsuspecting customers. If you don't want to explain how you got my book, fine--I'm sure it's a boring story involving mistaken donations or something--but I wish you wouldn't insult my intelligence by making up some whimsical fairy tale.

But for all that, I can't fault your taste in books. The Wings of Hermes was stupidly good. Grandma LOVED it. I stayed up until nine at night reading it with her--which is practically the middle of the night by her standards--because she was so desperate to know the culprit. It's a cut above most of the books on her shelf, and it's taken a place of pride there.

You weren't kidding about the melancholy. Grandma didn't mind--she was too wrapped up in the mystery--but I'll admit it got a bit depressing for my taste in places. The world seems dark enough right now--Grandma's hip isn't healing as well as we'd like. I'm having trouble adjusting to the move, and balancing work with Grandma's care is getting a touch overwhelming. I don't need fictional darkness on top of that.

What I need is something to lift my spirits. I've searched Grandma's shelves, and though she has plenty of comedies, there's nothing that catches my attention for more than a few pages, or elicits more than a wan smile. I don't know if there's a book in the world that could cheer me at the moment, but if any shop could supply it, I suppose yours can. Do you have anything like that? If you could, please send it my way.

At least, if you're willing to send it to a sponge. It seems you forgot to bill me for my last book, so if I have to settle the debt first, please let me know the price and I'll pay up. But please spare me the fairy tales.

Yours in respect,

Christine Hendry

VI. Benjamin Wright to Christine Hendry

Miss Hendry:

Your skepticism about the origins of our shop's unique books is understandable. Yet I told you the honest truth in response to an honest question. Any of our shop's past or present employees, and many of our long-term customers, would be able to verify the truth of my account. I do not typically disclose the story to new patrons, but your long history with Song of the Seafolk led me to believe you were already among those who would value it, and perhaps the faceless nature of letter-writing prompted more than usual candor. I apologize for your confusion, but I do not retract so much as a syllable of what I've said. I have told you only the truth as I know it. You may believe or doubt as you desire, but I would ask that you fling no further insults toward my honesty or my sanity.

In light of the struggles weighing upon you, the staff of Wright and Co. have forgiven any insulting insinuations, and are only too glad to do what we can to ease your burden. We have honored your request for a comedy, and have sent you a slightly worn copy of Mercator Must Walk the Plank by E.G. Delaford. It is worn because it has been read so many times by the members of our staff. It has often been stored behind the counter for staff to read in slow moments, and many of the quotes have become bywords with our little band. We sometimes read it aloud at the Christmas party. Yet by mutual consent, we have agreed that it is exactly the book you need (working here gives one a sense for these things--another Wright and Co. oddity), and gladly send it to you. If we have need of it after you've finished, we trust it will find its way back.

The book appears to have been written in (some version of) the early 20th-century, about a gentleman who takes to high-seas adventure despite his complete lack of sailing knowledge--a Don Quixote of the sea--and the woman he rescues from a shipwreck who tries in vain to set them on a sensible course. The humor is absurd, the characters memorable, and the story--I have forgotten myself. It's best for you to discover these things for yourself.

I have enclosed an invoice detailing the price of The Wings of Hermes. The price is modest compared to the extreme rarity of the book, and you may pay it if you wish to own the book outright. However, Wright and Co. also maintains a sort of library system for those who understand the unique nature of these one-of-a-kind books. For a nominal fee that covers the cost of shipping, patrons may keep one book at a time in their homes, and send it back to Wright and Co. when they wish to request another. If you wish to experience the widest variety of our unique selection--and keep these books in circulation for other readers--I recommend enrollment in this system.

I will not send an invoice for Mercator Must Walk the Plank, because we could not sell that book at any price. You may keep it for as long as it is of use to you, without interfering with your ability to borrow other books per our normal system. We consider this loan not a business arrangement, but an act of charity in your time of need.

Yours faithfully,

Benjamin Wright

VII. Penelope Brams to Christine Hendry

Christine,

I hope you don't mind that I slipped a note inside Mercator before Ben sent it off. We've never let the book outside the shop before, so I just had to say hello, and welcome you to our little band of Mercator fans (because I know you're going to love it). Please don't worry about sending it back too quickly. I must have half the book memorized, and I can always recite the silliest bits if Heinrich gets too grouchy.

I am so glad you're going to get to read this book, but I have to say that I'm surprised Ben agreed to it, because I could tell some of the things you said your last letter made him upset. These books mean a lot to him, and he doesn't talk about them to just anyone, so I don't think he liked being called a liar.

Not that I blame you! I'd have trouble believing the story, too, if I hadn't seen it myself. But I have! Hundreds of times! We'll be stocking the shelves or dusting, and all of a sudden we'll see a new book there--you usually just know there's something different about it. It'll have all the stuff that a normal book does--cover and endpages and copyright stuff and publisher names, and sometimes even those order forms to buy other books from the publisher. But they're all about companies that don't exist. Or by people we can't even find on the internet. There are too many books in too many styles for them to be the work of some prankster--especially since it's been happening for years and years and years.

And sometimes the books come back to us. I can count at least a dozen times that I've sold a book to someone, and then a year or two later I'll come across the very same copy on our shelves again. It's weird, but after you've worked here long enough, you get used to it, and you forget how strange it all is to people who don't know.

So anyway, I know you're going through a lot with your grandmother (I'm so sorry! I hope she's getting better!), and I'm sure you must be a really lovely person if you loved Song of the Seafolk so much (I hope you don't mind that I read it before Ben sent it back. Delightful book!) which is why I don't mind at all sending Mercator to you, even if you think we're all crazy. But we're not, really. And I hope we can be friends.

Lots of love,

Penelope Brams

(You can call me Penny!)

VIII. Heinrich Gross to Christine Hendry

Madam,

You have the only existing copy of Mercator Must Walk the Plank. I must ask you to use caution when handling it. It is beloved by many in the shop. Please do not consume food or drink while reading it. Do not dog-ear any more pages. Please be gentle when turning the pages that are coming loose.

This book is a gift we do not give lightly. Do not abuse our kindness.

Respectfully,

Heinrich Gross

IX. Christine Hendry to the staff of Wright and Co.

Everyone,

I'm overwhelmed. I had no idea this book--or the story behind it--meant so much to all of you. I feel like I've been sent a priceless family heirloom--and you know me from only three letters! I don't know what I've done to deserve so much trust, but I will care for this book as though it were a priceless work of art (which, from the sound of it, it basically is).

In the name of honesty, I have to say that I don't believe the story of your shop. Frankly, it all sounds like nonsense. But as I'm reading Mercator (we're on Chapter Nine!), I'm beginning to see more than a little bit of Katherina in my objections. Maybe you're all mad, maybe you're mistaken, but I'm not sure it matters much. There are worse things in life than a little nonsense. Especially when you're all so very kind.

I hope all of you (especially Ben) can forgive me for the snide remarks in my last letter. Grandma and I thank you for all the books--wherever they came from--and would be honored to consider you friends.

Yours,

Christine Hendry

P.S. How do I get enrolled in that lending program? I've sent back The Wings of Hermes.

X. Penelope Brams to Christine Hendry

Christine,

Have you finished the book yet? What do you think?

When you're done with Mercator, I have so so so many books I want you to read. I'm making a list. I know you probably don't have as much time to read as we do here, but I'd hate to think of you missing out on any of my favorites.

I don't want to rush you, but I've never talked to anyone outside of Wright's who had the faintest idea what I was talking about when we referenced Mercator. I've enjoyed having it as our inside joke, but it's even better to have more people in on it.

Write back soon!

Penny

XI. Christine Hendry to Penelope Brams

Penny,

Grandma and I finished Mercator Must Walk the Plank last night--and started it again this morning. I can see why you all love it so much. What a wonderfully absurd book. Exactly the type of comedy I was looking for. Your instincts were correct: it was just what we both needed to cheer us up. It's removed enough from our world both in time and plausibility to take our minds away from ordinary things, and there's nothing mean-spirited about any of the humor. So many good characters among that crew. And the plot! High comedy! It's been almost a week since I read Chapter 14, and I'm still giggling over the fishing scene.

I would be overjoyed to read anything else you might recommend. If any of them are half as good as Mercator, they're sure to become my favorites, too.

Yours,

Christine Hendry

P.S. Grandma's hip is doing much better. Still a long road to recovery, but maybe the reread will help. Laughter being the best medicine and all.

XII. Benjamin Wright to Christine Hendry

Miss Hendry:

I've enclosed the forms for enrollment in Wright and Co.'s specialized lending program. If you will fill in the required information (though we obviously already have your address) and submit the proper payment, we will be able to begin sending books. The catalogue is yours to keep. I'm afraid the selection is rather outdated, and the summaries less than ideal at conveying the merits of each book. It was assembled by my predecessor, and I'm afraid that my uncle's genius for books did not translate to marketing skill. Amid the cares of business, I have not found the time to put together a modernized version, especially as I find that bespoke recommendations from our staff are far more likely to result in successful pairings of book and reader.

You will note there is a section on the third page where you can request a book. If I can offer a recommendation, I believe that the Alfred Quicke mystery series by Glorya M. Hayers, with its blend of comedy and mystery, would perfectly fit the tastes of your household. The mysteries solved by idle-rich amateur detective Alfred Quicke are always intriguing, but the cast of comedic types--and the farcical situations that arise in the course of the investigation--keep the stories lighthearted. The best way I can describe it is as if Wodehouse wrote a mystery series. The setting is much like that of his most famous stories, though with curious details that suggest it is set in an intriguing alternate world. With seventeen books in the series, you would find enough material to keep your grandmother in mysteries for a long time--though I suggest starting with the fourth book, The Counterfeit Candlestick, as the point where the series finds its voice.

I appreciate the handsome apology in your last letter and accept it wholeheartedly. However, I admit I had hoped for more than agnosticism toward our story. Despite your assertions, the truth does matter, whether we can discover it or not. Though the strange behavior of these books is outside our usual experience, it does not mean it is impossible (you will find a similar truth expressed by most of the great fictional detectives), and I had hoped your respect for us would open you to the possibility that there is more to this world than what we can understand. Perhaps it was too much to expect under the circumstances. But I hope we have garnered enough goodwill that you will not take offense at this expression of my honest opinion. If you do, I apologize, and will attempt to keep future letters focused purely on business.

Respectfully yours,

Benjamin Wright

XIII. Christine Hendry to Benjamin Wright

Mr. Wright,

I respect your opinion, though naturally I don't agree. I don't doubt you're sincere in believing what you do, but I can think of a dozen more mundane explanations of how these books mysteriously appear and disappear on your shelves (most of them involving poor record-keeping and less-than-stellar search engine skills). I suggest we drop the subject in the future, as neither of us is likely to convince the other, and my lack of belief about the mystical origin of these books doesn't keep me from fully enjoying the experience of reading them.

I hope you won't think it rude that I filled out your forms twice. Grandma and I do count as separate households, and if I'm going to keep Grandma in mysteries and experience some of the other books, I'm going to need two separate streams of supply. For now, though, I think books 3 and 4 of Alfred Quicke will suit our needs nicely.

Many thanks,

Christine Hendry

XIV. Penelope Brams to Christine Hendry

Christine!!!

I'm so so glad you loved Mercator! I just knew you would, but it's always a little bit horrible when someone else reads one of your favorite books, because if they hate it, it crushes a piece of your heart, and I don't have that many pieces to spare.

But when they love it! Oh! I can love a book twice as much when I know someone else who loves it! I wouldn't think it was possible I could love Mercator more, but thinking of you and your Grandma laughing over it in her sickbed makes me so--this is going to sound strange, but I'm proud of it. As if we sent out a friend to do a good work, and he succeeded in working miracles. I hope you read it as many times as you want. Trust me, it gets better every time.

But I hope you'll find time to read some other books, too! I'm glad you got your own account along with your Grandma's. Alfred Quicke is lovely (I love his books almost as much as Mercator--please let me know what you think of Bright Folly when you read it), but one cannot live on mysteries alone. There are so many genres, so many moods, so many eras of literature to explore, and Wright's has wonderful examples of so many of them, so I'm so glad we'll get to send them to you.

I know Ben sent you that horrible little catalogue. Ignore it. It makes so many of the very best books sound so dull, and half my favorites aren't even in it. I can do a much better job of telling you what books to read. I've got pages and pages written up about the best ones, but I don't want to overwhelm you right away, so I'll just tell you about a few of the very best at a time. I've included a list of some of the ones I think you'll like best.

You can read what you like, of course, but I can't help thinking you should read The Autumn Queen's Promise by Rose Rennow just as soon as you possibly can. If you loved Song of the Seafolk, I'm sure you'll love this. It's another children's fantasy (a newer one--'90s, maybe?), with the same type of atmospheric historical setting, though this time, it's the most vivid autumnal woods you've ever read about in your life, which makes it perfect for this time of year.

The story's all about this fairy queen who stumbles into this little village in colonial America and can't get home. And she hates them all at first, of course--she's this horrible arrogant thing--but she comes to care for them and it's just lovely to read about. A little slow, but no slower than Seafolk. A nice, relaxing kind of slow. I'm sure you'll love it.

Whatever you pick next, I hope you'll keep me posted with reading updates. I so love talking with you about these books. It's so nice to have a pen pal!

Lots of love,

Penny

XV. Benjamin Wright to Christine Hendry

Miss Hendry:

Your account has been opened and the requested books have been shipped. We at Wright and Co. are pleased to count you as one of our trusted patrons.

I am afraid I will find it difficult to honor your request to drop the subject of the origin of our specialized books. Perhaps it is a fault, but I have never been able to bring myself to "agree to disagree". It has always seemed to me the coward's way out of engaging with the search for truth. However, you are correct that endlessly rehashing the subject is unlikely to assist either of us in continuing that search, so I will refrain from mentioning it unless there is further evidence to discuss. If you would be so kind as to patronize our shop in person, I would be happy to offer you further proof of the phenomena that I describe, but further discussion via these letters is likely to remain futile.

Faithfully yours,

Benjamin Wright

XVI. Christine Hendry to Benjamin Wright

Mr. Wright:

My offer to "agree to disagree" was a courtesy to you. I'm sure you don't want to lose a customer over the issue, so I was giving you the chance to let it slide so it wouldn't interfere with our working relationship. You think that makes me a coward? How can you say I'm "refusing to engage with the search for truth" when you've admitted that you don't know what the truth is? You said yourself (I still have those first letters) that you don't know where the books come from. Just because you can find no record of them doesn't mean they just appeared out of thin air. And these supposed "returns" of books could come from donations or poor record-keeping. You say you have evidence, but from my point-of-view, you could just be a quirky small press that prints old-fashioned books and tells whimsical stories to draw in customers. With all the stress surrounding Grandma's health, there's no way on Earth that I could make a cross-state trip to see your supposed "proof" for myself.

Frankly, if it weren't for Grandma, I'd consider canceling my accounts with you. But she's been tearing through Alfred Quicke so fast and enjoying it so much that I don't dare to cut off her source of supply. And the books you've sent are wonderful--you've been so kind about Mercator, and you gave me back Song of the Seafolk, and The Autumn Queen's Promise is turning into a lovely story I wouldn't have been able to find anywhere else.

I can't wrap my head around you people. Every time I give you the chance to back away from this weird story, you double down, and frankly, it's freaking me out. Penny's so bubbly that it's easy to see how she could get caught up in it, but you write with such a serious professional voice, and you seem (in your bland professional way) personally offended at my refusal to just go along with your story of mysterious magical books. Why does this matter so much to you? Why can't the books just be wonderful, obscure stories instead of mystical teleporting tomes that respond to feelings or whatever? I can't understand you.

Maybe you'll burn this letter and cancel my accounts, but if you dare to engage, I would like to know what you have to say for yourself.

Yours,

Christine Hendry

XVII. Penelope Brams to Christine Hendry

Christine,

What did you say to Ben? He's usually so nice and sensible and kind and ordinary--really a great boss--but every once in a while, he broods. And he's been brooding ever since he got your last letter. It's like he's walking around with this big old cloud over his head. He keeps wandering the shelves and then going into his office and glaring at his computer and staring at the wall.

It's got me worried. Is your Grandma okay? I guess he'd tell me if she wasn't. Or you would. I hope.

Are you dying? Maybe that would explain why you haven't written in so long.

Please don't die on me. I couldn't bear it.

Write back soon.

Penny

XVIII. Christine Hendry to Penelope Brams

Dear Penny,

No one's dying. Grandma gets more mobile every day, and I'm in as good of health as you can have when you're running mostly on caffeine and a couple of hours of sleep a night. I've just been so busy between work and Grandma's care and insurance (so many stupid phone calls) and trying to figure out our finances, and trying to find senior housing for Grandma (her house has way too many stairs), that I barely have time to eat, much less write you back. I'm sorry if I worried you.

As for Ben, well, long story short, I majorly overreacted to some minor thing he said, and wrote a sleep-deprived response that I never should have sent. I really don't want to get into it with you, because you'd probably side with him, and I'd like to keep our friendship intact, at least.

I did manage to read The Autumn Queen's Promise a few pages at a time, and it was just as lovely as you promised it would be. Exquisite fall reading. I almost hate to send it back--that lovely cover alone, with its painting of that beautiful queen in that autumnal woods, added so much atmosphere to the house just by being here. It'll never replace Song of the Seafolk in my heart, but it came closer than almost any other book to recapturing what it felt like to experience it for the first time. I send it back with warm thanks for the recommendation.

I'm also sending back your beloved copy of Mercator Must Walk the Plank. I've held onto it far longer than I deserved to. You were so gracious to send it to me, and I can't take advantage of your kindness. (You can tell Heinrich that I haven't added a single scuff to the cover).

Since Ben seems to be in no mood for letters from me, can I send my book requests through you? Grandma would like Books 8 and 9 of Alfred Quicke (she can use my account for the second, because I don't have much time for reading at the moment.)

Thank you,

Christine

XIX. Benjamin Wright to Christine Hendry

Miss Hendry:

You say that you find us at Wright and Co. difficult to understand, but I find you equally baffling. In a single letter, you will thank us profusely for our friendship and the books we provide, while at the same time attacking that very thing which we hold most dear. In expressing my difficulty with the phrase "agree to disagree", I was not attacking your morals. You will note I was more than willing to honor your request to drop the subject. Yet in misconstruing my words, you have sounded the horn of war, and honor and duty--and, to be honest, personal inclination--demand that I engage.

You ask me why these books--and the phenomena surrounding their existence--matter so much to me. I can answer only by biography. Wright and Co. is a small, cluttered, dim, obscure shop--you could find a thousand used book stores like it anywhere in the world--but from a young age (the shop was owned by my uncle then) it seemed a place of unique enchantment. I would spend summer days racing among the stacks and losing myself in books. I grew more jaded and cynical as I aged--most teenagers do--but whenever I was in danger of becoming a disaffected youth, there was something about the shop that made me feel there was something more than the meaninglessness of everyday life.

Learning about the miracle of the books felt like getting the answer to a question I hadn't realized I was asking. Here was proof there was something beyond the mundane and predictable. Something too wonderful for the human mind to understand. Some wondrous power cared enough about the patrons of this shop to help them get the right story in their hands at the right time--even if that story had never been written. Other books have authors and publishers, but these books seemed like a gift from the author of imagination itself.

When I took over the shop, I became a steward of that gift. Caring for these books and matching them with readers makes the running of this shop, not just a banal business arrangement, but a calling. Stories have the power to shape our imagination, our outlook, our relationships with others--and these stories, coming as they do unwritten, unbought and unlooked for, seem to have more power than most. Caring for that power is a great responsibility, one that I take very seriously. I have seen its good effect again and again. You cannot deny you have experienced it yourself.

You are correct when you say that I do not know the exact origin of these books. But I am not intellectually lazy just because I am content with no answer. Making peace with mystery--knowing that some things are ever unknowable--is not the same as refusing to believe the truth that comes before your eyes.

You have closed yourself to even the possibility of an explanation that goes beyond the reality you can comprehend. I have spoken of evidence that proves there is no rational explanation for these books, and you call me an unreliable witness. You have seen hints of the wondrous that you dismissed out of hand. I understand that you do not have the same evidence that I have, and I have not been as gracious as I should have been in making allowance for that. But saying that my refusal to seek an exact explanation makes me intellectually lazy is inaccurate in the extreme.

I may not know how these books come into my shop, but I know from whom. I may not know the exact mechanisms of the miracle, but I firmly believe there is an author of all that has allowed my shop to be a source of minor--and yes, rather whimsical--wonders. I need not know more than that to do my duty well.

Perhaps that explanation will help you to understand my position. More likely you will think me crazier than ever. But since I have explained my inner self, perhaps I have some right to ask for an explanation in return.

Ever since your response to that first letter, when I hinted at the miracle surrounding these books, I detected not only disbelief from you, but disdain. I was troubled to see such disgust toward the concept, especially from one who has proven herself an enthusiastic fan of fantasy. Why do you seek wonders in your stories, but resist it so fiercely in your own existence? Would it be so terrible for these books to have a supernatural origin? Is there not some appeal in letting the wondrous into your life?

You need not respond to such prying questions if it makes you uncomfortable. But I ask that at least, if you do respond, that you deal gently with one who has made his inner self so vulnerable to your scrutiny.

Yours faithfully,

Benjamin Wright

XX. Christine Hendry to Benjamin Wright

Ben,

Wow.

When I asked for an explanation, I didn't expect that.

I don't know how I can possibly respond.

I definitely understand why it matters so much to you, but somehow, this conversation has shifted from magic to theology, and I'm even less equipped to engage in a conversation about that. Not to get into too much detail, but that's part of the reason I haven't seen my grandmother in so many years. Grandma's comfortable with that stuff. I prefer my fantasy to remain safely in stories.

If what you say is true, if there's some grand wonderful power--call it magic, call it God--that does things we can't understand, then we're completely powerless against it. Which is fine if the power is good, but if the good things are real, then the bad things can be, too. There are too many ordinary problems for me to want to live in a world where there's some grand plan I can mess up by doing the wrong thing, and greater powers are waging in a war for my soul.

Fantasy is great. I love stories of mermaids and magic and the wonders of life. But it's not reality. I learned that young, and every year I live only proves it more. I'm content to live in the ordinary world with its ordinary problems, and get my escape through literature--where none of the monsters on the page can hurt me.

I'm glad--I really, truly am--that you've been able to make yourself believe in some grander purpose behind these silly little stories we've been reading. But I can't believe in that. I've seen no proof to make me believe it. Maybe you have, but most people can barely trust their own eyes, so how can I trust yours? It's not that I think you're crazy or stupid. Your personality and experiences make you want to believe. Mine make me happy to doubt. It's nobody's fault, and neither of us can change it, and it's fine. I'll stop calling you a crackpot if you stop calling me a coward, and we'll leave it at that.

Wherever the books come from, we all agree that they're wonderful, and if you don't mind dealing with a dirty nonbeliever, I'd be honored if you'd let me continue doing business with you.

Yours,

Christine Hendry

XXI. Penelope Brams to Christine Hendry

Christine,

Where is Mercator? We got your letter, and The Autumn Queen's Promise, and your most recent Alfred Quicke, but no sign is there of Mercator Must Walk the Plank.

Oh! Oh no! What if it got lost in the mail? Could we survive such a tragedy? Silly old John Quackenbush and fiery Katherina, and grumpy little Pegs and that whole lovable crew--gone forever! If the U.S. Postal Service is responsible for their destruction, I'll...we'll...we'll make them pay! This is a murder and there must be justice!

Don't worry, I don't blame you. But the next mailman to cross my path better watch out. We'll find that book if we have to tear through every mail box and bag and truck in the country!

I'll keep you posted about the search if I can find the time to write.

Frantically,

Penny

XXII. Christine Hendry to Penelope Brams

Dear Penny,

I'm so extremely sorry. When I sent you that last letter, I truly thought I had packaged and mailed Mercator Must Walk the Plank, but after receiving your reply, I discovered that the book was still on its usual shelf in my grandmother's house. I've been so sleep-deprived lately that I overlook things, but I didn't think I could possibly have overlooked something that.

Don't worry. I'll be sending it out as soon as I get another box to ship it in. And this time, I'll make 100% sure it's inside before I ship it.

Please forgive me.

Christine

XXIII. Benjamin Wright to Christine Hendry

Dear Christine,

You've asked me not to call you a coward, but your wording leaves me almost no choice. Denying yourself the good and wondrous out of fear of evil and danger is the definition of cowardice. Staying within the narrow world of rationality makes for a bleak and colorless life--and you're none the safer for your denial. Good and evil exist whether you acknowledge them or not. Closing your eyes to them only makes you vulnerable to ambush should they come upon you unaware.

Can you not open yourself to the possibility that the good can overcome the evil? That it can offer strength to face the dangers? Great stories can do that by showing us how to act in such situations, to give us examples of victory over darkness, to open our minds to possibilities that we might not accept in our ordinary lives. You've experienced such stories. Is it so strange to think they might reflect the reality we live in? Is it so strange to think there might be some greater power offering us those stories to sustain us?

To you, I'm sure it seems impossible. But you know there are those who think otherwise. I only ask you to consider the implications of the choice.

Respectfully yours,

Ben

XXIV. Christine Hendry to Benjamin Wright

Ben,

I don't think you can call my position a choice. You're acting like I'm picking between favorite foods or something--picking one position because I don't like the other one. But as far as I can tell, my position is the only choice. I have no reason to believe any other option exists.

It would be wonderful if I could believe the way you do. It seems to have brought you a lot of peace. But I'm not built that way and I'll just have to struggle along. Your concern is touching, but I've been doing just fine so far.

If I ever see proof, I'd have reason to reconsider, but as it is, I have enough trouble in the world I can see to worry too much about one that I can't.

Respectfully,

Christine

XXV. Penelope Brams to Christine Hendry

Christine,

Still no sign of Mercator. Did you forget to send it again, or do I have to lay siege to the post office?

Penny

P.S. Have you been reading any more of the books?

XXVI. Christine Hendry to Penelope Brams

Penny,

I have tried to send off that package no fewer than three times, and every time the book somehow makes its way back to my shelf. Maybe I'm just so used to seeing it there that I keep putting it back. I am so sorry for the delay.

It makes me feel guilty that I'm still profiting by reading your other books. Now that winter is upon us, Grandma and I have started reading aloud from the longest of your fantasy suggestions--The Queens of Wintermoon. You're right that it's an odd book--Russian-flavored science fantasy, with all those complicated family ties and political intrigues--but it's just what we need right now. Grandma is unfortunately dealing with a bout of pneumonia at the moment, which means I'm spending a lot of time at the hospital, but a big, thick, lush and lyrical literary book with a huge cast of vividly-drawn characters is just what we need to take us away from the sterile white walls and the scent of disinfectant.

It's great to sink into that snowy world with its royal glamour and underground orchards and mystical machines. Grandma and I spend ages talking about the four sisters and their royal husbands--all their flaws and heartaches and complicated relationships. I'm most attached to Vitalia and her political intrigue plot, while Grandma most loves the storyline of Inessa and her mysterious woodcutter husband. I have my suspicions about both their secrets, but I'm more than willing to wait the 800-or-so pages they'll need to resolve everything. It's nice to have something to take my mind off of other worries.

But I will keep worrying about Mercator. I promise somehow or another, it will make its way back to you.

Yours,

Christine

XXVII. Christine Hendry to Penelope Brams

Penny,

I don't understand it. This is the fifth time I've tried to send Mercator Must Walk the Plank back to you. This time I waited until I'd had a decent night of sleep so my mind was clear. I put it in the packaging (extra padding). I took a picture of it inside the box. I took a picture of the sealed and addressed box. I took a picture of the box when I took it to the post office and left it at the counter. And then I returned home to find the book sitting on the same shelf where I'd put it this morning.

Are the darn things breeding? Did you send me extra copies? There is no other explanation for what happened.

It's got my head spinning, and until I've got it figured out, unfortunately Mercator is going to stay right where it is.

Sorry!

Christine

XXVIII. Benjamin Wright to Christine Hendry

Christine,

Penny has made me aware of your difficulties with Mercator Must Walk the Plank. It's clear to me (as I'm sure it will be to you) what has happened. If you wished for proof, you now have it. The Powers-That-Be have determined that you have more need of the book than we do.

Please don't distress yourself by (or waste postage upon) any further attempts to send the book back. We have plenty of other books to read, and if we ever have need of Mercator, I trust that the same powers will ensure it makes its way back to us.

Yours,

Ben

XXIX. Christine Hendry to Benjamin Wright

Ben,

It's the middle of the night and I can't sleep. I'm trying not to think of that book and I can't. It just doesn't make sense.

This can't be happening. But it is. And if this part of your story is true, then that means the other part of the story is true, which means your theories

This doesn't mean you've won. I'm sure there's some rational explanation that I've overlooked. I shouldn't even write to you because you'll just try to convince me that this is proof we live in a world of angels and fairies who bother themselves about the books we read. But it's not like there's anyone else I can talk to about this.

If you have nothing to say but, "I told you so," don't bother writing back at all. But if you've anything useful to say I'm all ears (or eyes, I guess--weird that I've never actually spoken to you. I don't even know what you look like. How old are you?)

I should sleep. But I'm going to go off and mail this letter like a moron because it's the closest I can come to a conversation.

Good night.

Christine

XXX. Benjamin Wright to Christine Hendry

Christine,

This is me not saying I told you so.

That doesn't leave me much else to say.

I'm 39.

Picture the word "man" in the dictionary. Imagine there's an illustration there. That's pretty close to what I look like.

If you want to hear my voice, you'll have to come to the shop and talk to me in person. Or I suppose we could call each other. We do live in the 21st century. But I admit I've enjoyed this 19th-century correspondence we've been keeping up.

I wish I had something more useful to say, but I doubt I can say any of it in a way you want to hear.

I hope you've been sleeping better.

Ben

XXXI. Penelope Brams to Christine Hendry

Christine

CHRISTINE!!

I know you didn't order another book, but I was wandering through the shelves the other day when this book just about jumped out at me. It's like it had your name written in it. Like how your grandmother wrote in Song of the Seafolk.

Your name's not in it. I checked. But something about it still made it seem like yours. Like we were keeping it from you. Ben agreed (he's got a good sense for these things), so I started preparing the box to ship it. But I read a bit of the first chapter before I packaged the book, just to get an idea of what I was sending you. I didn't move from that spot until I'd read the whole thing. Ben just about locked me in the shop before he found me sitting in a daze in the back room.

Christine, you have to read this book. Now. It's the most beautiful...well, not fantasy. But it's not not fantasy. It's so real and yet so magical and you could maybe read it both ways. I haven't stopped thinking about it since I finished it.

But what's the book? If you've opened the package by now, I'm sure you know it's called Cardinal's Map by someone named Dorothy Cannes. It's from the eighties, it looks like, but it feels older. And newer. Does that make it timeless? I suppose all of the books in our "special" selection feel that way. Anyway, it's about this girl named Miranda, and she's this terrible grouch, and she goes to work for this old guy named Cardinal (that's where the title comes from) who needs help writing his book. And he's got the most beautiful map of all the countries in world of his fantasy book. Except the countries might be real? And just....ack, I don't have words! The book has a lot of them. Read those instead.

And then write to me because I need to know what you think about the ending!!

Lots of love,

Penny

XXXII. Christine Hendry to Penelope Brams

Penny,

You were right.

Thank you.

Christine

XXXIII. Christine Hendry to Benjamin Wright

Ben,

It's been three hours since I finished Cardinal's Map, and I haven't moved from my chair. Everything you said about the power of story is true. It's like this book reached into my soul and rearranged the furniture. Cleared out the clutter. And it did it by sweeping me along with the characters and the story and the beautiful prose so I didn't even know what was happening until it was already done.

Everything we've been fighting about for the last few weeks was in this book. It talked about all the things you were trying to tell me, but instead of just telling me, it showed me and made me think and feel and helped me make sense of it all. And I never felt like it was preaching. I'm not even sure it was trying to preach. It's just...a story, so I let my guard down and it got under my skin. Just like Cardinal's map got to Miranda.

I don't know if you've read the book or not, but the premise is that John Cardinal is writing this extensive fantasy work and Miranda's this jaded college kid hired as a secretary to help him arrange all his notes. And she's fascinated by the fictional map and gets swept up in the book, until she realizes that Cardinal is telling the story of his life. That this character who traveled to this other fantasy world is supposed to be him. And she's got to figure out if he's using this as a metaphor, or if he's crazy, or if this other world really is a real place.

And by the end of the book, we don't know. You could read it both ways--the world in the map is either a metaphor or a real country that he’s been to. But it doesn't really matter which one is true, because the bigger truth is that Miranda knows there's something beyond the rational world that we can see. And it's not terrifying. It's wonderful. It's not this place full of monsters waiting to pounce--it's this exciting, dangerous, beautiful place to explore.

If Penny wants to know what I think of the ending, I believe that Cardinal's world is real. And I believe your story is true. I've seen evidence. That terrified me, because that means the world no longer makes sense. But the truth doesn't have to be a terrifying destruction of the reality I know; it can be an expansion of it. I don't understand why any of this happens, or how, but maybe I don't have to know how. I just need to be thankful that it did.

You said that Mercator stayed with me because I needed it more than you guys did. Maybe what I needed was evidence of the miracles you told me about. Then I wondered why Song of the Seafolk wandered away, because I very much needed it here when it was at your shop. But maybe what I needed was to write to you. The correspondence we've shared, the books you've sent me, they've strengthened me through a lot of difficult weeks. They've given me and Grandma a lot of joy, brought us back together after so many year's apart. And they've helped me straighten out a lot of questions I didn't know I was wrestling with.

There was someone's hand in all this--an author arranging all the pieces of the story in a way I'd never have been able to achieve on my own. Maybe before that'd make me feel helpless, but now, I don���t know, I guess I feel cared for. Like someone’s watching out for me.

I feel like I should thank you, and I don't know how. This is too deep for words. Thank you for writing, even when I was horrible to you. Thank you for the books. Thanks for being a part of my story.

Grandma's doing better now. If she's up for it, I think it's time for a road trip.

If you're ever going to see Mercator or Cardinal's Map again, I might have to hand them to you in person.

Love to all of you,

Christine Hendry

XXXIV. Benjamin Wright to Christine Hendry

Christine,

You may not believe me, but I did not read Cardinal's Map before sending it to you. I simply had the notion that it would be the ideal book for your circumstances--and I was as surprised as you were to find just how true that was. Another gift, I suppose.

I look forward to reading it, if you can ever spare it (I look upon the book as belonging to you now). I also greatly anticipate the opportunity to see and speak to you here in the shop. I hope you will not wait long to make good on your promise.

Yours faithfully,

Ben

XXXV. Christine Hendry to the staff at Wright and Co.

Everyone,

I can't say how wonderful it was to see you all in person. You all looked just like I pictured you. Your shop is too wonderful for words. I could have moved in. But alas, Grandma and I don't have the resources for a move right now.

We'll have to continue the friendship long-distance. Now that I have the shop's phone number (funny I never thought to request it before), and your personal numbers, I suppose we can call whenever we like. But if you don't mind, I'm going to keep corresponding by letter, too.

Love to you all,

Christine

#inklingschallenge #team chesterton #genre: intrusive fantasy #theme: visit the sick #story: complete #remind me to tell you the behind the scenes stuff sometimes #maybe it wouldn't be interesting to you but it was a wild ride

[mollfie]

I was reading a really good thread by a male SA survivor about how a lot of the fan sexualisation of Astarion makes them uncomfortable, how a lot of people seem to miss the nuance of his character, things they wish had been handled better, what he liked etc. I often forget how people can be super weird about traumatised characters like Astarion. He was not telling others how to enjoy their game, just talking about their experience, but brought up some great points that gave me something to think about.

I very much focus on the hurt/comfort nonsexual aspect first. I love the dynamic of Astarion healing and working out what he wants in all aspects of his life.

I wish the game allowed for more nuance regarding that. It would have been great to be able to really encourage Astarion to heal and assure him that you're not going anywhere beyond a line or two.

But, they're also all adult characters, and I think it's disingenuous to act as if abuse survivors can't enjoy sex and have ownership over their sexuality. I also would have liked the game to explore that more and had some more in-depth interactions where Tav or whoever could assure Astarion and be more supportive.

There's a few moments, such as with the Drow Twins, where I would have liked just one or two lines addressing consent and discomfort. I would be interested to hear why the writers made some of the choices they did.

I think a lot of fans don't mean to hurt anyone's feelings. They just get caught up in the horniness of it all and are having fun. I also think a lot of people haven't finished Astarion's personal quest or played very far into the game or just don't think about it beyond them being fictional. And, it should go without saying that most people wouldn't behave the same way in real life.

Overall, I think Larian did a stellar job. Better than any other crpg I've played in recent years. Luckily, I am also very happy to fill in the gaps and head canon things I thought could be better.

I love Astarion because he is a complex character. I always like characters who are dealing with and overcoming their trauma, finding friendship/love/family, and maybe some revenge as a little treat. I like characters who are not nice. Let them be messy and awful and human. My favourite thing is when someone is terrible but trying to do better, and they are still loved even at their worst.

The way some people act about Neil Newbon, though, does weird me out. He has also mentioned how some elements hit close to home for him, and he drew on that for Astarion's characterisation while voice acting and working with the writers. He doesn't seem all that bothered by how people act, and he plays into the Astarion bit online and on streams. I just find some comments and content to be super out of pocket.

This is such a messy post. Just some rambling thoughts. Anyway, it was a good thread. I just have a lot of feelings. I could expand on this even further, but this post is long enough already.

#bg3 spoilers #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #mollfie

[theresthesnitch]

Pinned

Based on the website mentioned because I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since I found it. Thanks to @r33sespieces for reading over it for me.

Sirius found the website on a Tuesday afternoon.

He eyed it suspiciously at first. Kids nowadays were terrible about putting everything about their lives online. He could remember the days of the early internet, with a/s/l and the expectation that it was entirely a lie. No one knew who you were on the internet. 

So, if this was just one more way for the stupid kids to put their personal information on the internet, then he wanted no part in it. 

He clicked anyway. 

Sirius found himself flooded with messages. Queer people from all over the world filling the map with queer love and queer experiences. He couldn’t stop clicking on messages. 

where you first told me you loved me. we aren’t together anymore but you were one of the greatest loves of my life. 

My first kiss with my best friend. We did it for a scavenger hunt photo. We both love each other. But when it comes to being in love, she fell for me too soon and I fell for her too late.

We kissed secretly between the isles of this walmart.

First time I said I was gay out loud. 

Learned that I’m asexual, not broken <3

Surrounded by happy out gay people for the first time, I finally felt like it was okay. 

I survived this town, and I will survive the rest. 

I exist.

Sirius couldn’t stop reading the messages. Tears were streaming down his face. Nothing in his life ever made him feel more valid and more seen than looking at all the pins. He wasn’t alone. He was never alone. 

Sirius wanted to leave his mark too. 

He considered several options. His parents house, with a celebratory “I survived” message. Or Hogwarts Academy, where he’d first kissed a boy and realized that he wanted to kiss more boys. Or the pub down the road from the Potters’ house, where he’d first told James that he was gay the summer after he left home. 

None of them felt as right as Remus. 

He hadn’t seen Remus in years, but he still thought about him every day. He fell in love with Remus when they were both still kids–somewhere around age thirteen when Remus punched his distant cousin when he called Sirius the family disappointment. He’d pined for Remus for years before they finally found each other, and dated for a while before they’d managed to fuck it up. 

There were a dozen places he could have pinned for Remus, each of them significant in their own way. 

Sirius didn’t have to think about it at all. He scrolled through the countryside until he found the tiny, sparsely populated area in Wales where Remus’s family lived. It was here, under the old oak tree in their backyard when Sirius came to visit in after their fifth year, that SIrius had finally confessed his feelings for Remus and they shared the most idyllic first kiss. 

Only, there was already a pin there. 

We kissed here for the first time, and I realized I’d never want anyone as much as I wanted you. I wish I’d never let you go. I wish we’d tried harder. I wish we could have another chance. 

Sirius forgot how to breathe. Remus missed him too. Remus thought of him too. 

Sirius had no choice. He had to find Remus. Maybe they could have a second chance after all.

#pinned #wolfstar #wolfstar minific #queering the map #second chances #lost love #muggle au #snitchwrites

[astriiformes]

To be completely honest I have been doing some Wrestling as of late (by which I mean. since October) because despite all the joy finishing my conversion last year brought me, debilitating moral OCD and the Ongoing Situation do not mix well. Which has been really hard because it's very difficult to be like well, I'm so glad to have joined this community for real and properly just in time for it to suddenly be a source of immense difficulty for me, too. And I'm trying my best to be involved in organizing efforts and to connect with likeminded Jews but it's still been very hard.

And on top of everything having another friend starting their conversion exploration journey recently has been making me realize how strange and lonely and isolated mine was, because it was so affected by the pandemic and lockdown and I didn't get to join my classmates in doing activities outside of class or celebrate holidays with other people or even go to our shul until fairly late in my journey. And of course I had all the other hiccups, like working with three different rabbis due to circumstances out of my control. And it was so worth it and the right choice, but still deeply imperfect in ways I feel sort of melancholy about.

But this last week I'm suddenly finding my place in ways that have been missing for a bit and it feels so important. The Jewish printing symposium I attended was so amazing, and I finally set up my recurring donation to my synagogue now that I'm officially a member and seeing my name and my Hebrew name next to each other in the online portal is making me smile, and some other people from my shul that I don't know very well but would like to get to know better invited me to a second night Seder at their place later this month that I think will be really good, and I'm doing research for a paper on medieval Jewish science for my medieval history class and reading excerpts from the De'ot ha-Filosofim and Midrash ha-Ḥokhmah and Sha'ar ha-Shamayim, and I've been working on my Yiddish and listening to a lot of Yiddish folk and punk music along with it, and today I think I'm going to finally talk to the LGBT history curator about the queer Jewish archives event we're doing in May, and it feels like something important has clicked back into place, that I think is going to make me both happier & more effective at the organizing work I want to be a part of but haven't been able to engage with fully for months now.

Anyways I feel like this Pesach is going to Get me because of the timing of this all, and also I already had some really, really hard stuff happen to me last Pesach that I have mostly processed but has still had some far-reaching repercussions, so there's an element of anniversary trauma (?) meets healthy processing that I know is going to happen, too.

But it's still a good reminder of why I chose all this, and that religion & spirituality & community really are incredibly important to me, even when they're difficult (maybe even especially when there's difficulty) and also that I am tougher than I give myself credit for and not totally a victim of my own brain! Which is! An important feeling, if not necessarily an easy one.

#this is a positive post! i am just putting it under a cut because it's also a very personal one! #jewish tag

[cnovelartreblogs]

this may not be the place for it - feel free to ignore! but do you know of any good guides for ordering English edition rosmei books in the USA? I've reached out to one group order place but I'm find everything about rosmei to be deeply confusing lol

Heya!

So as far as I know, the only way to do it (the way I'm doing it) is to join a group order/buy from a place that has partnered with Rosmei. There's a list of those places (all over the world) here: https://shop-b24ce1da57f643b5f45af2da645ab4c4.myallvalue.com/pages/partners

As far as I know, the only one in the US is Yiggybean:

What's been happening is, Rosmei announced that pre-orders are opening, and then Yiggybeans opens a pre-order listing. Those seem to run 2 to 4 weeks. They're only a first payment; there'll be a second for shipping. The books have been running $25 to $35 per book, and by pre-ordering they come with extras. They also charge the domestic part of the shipping, which is another $5 to $10. I'm expecting the second payments to be $20 to $30 per book but I don't know for sure yet because none of them have shipped.

How to Survive as a Villain vol. 1 had pre-orders open in January.

Nanchan and Don't You Like Me? The pre-orders for each vol. 1 ended about a week ago.

I found out about the more recent ones after the order had already ended, and I emailed Yiggybean to ask what could be done. They were very prompt and polite answering me, and they told me they'd pre-ordered a few extra and were able to sell me one of each of those, it was all settled very quickly and easily and I was impressed by their customer service.

I also asked if there was a way to get notification of when the next pre-orders go live; they said not yet but they were working on putting together an email blast for it, so I'm hoping for that so I don't accidentally miss any others.

I haven't actually received anything yet, so I can't speak to quality of the Rosmei editions, translation fidelity, shipping, etc., but the above is everything I do know. The tl:dr is the only way I've found to order the books from the US, legally and without like, knowing someone in Singapore, is through Yiggybean, and buying there is as easy as adding the pre-order to your cart and checking out like in any other online store.

A friend has also pre-order one through the place in Poland, so for European folks I may be able to report back on how that goes, too.

Hope this helps!

-unforth

#resources #rosmei #if i miss qqgk i will sob

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for "ghosting*" my friend?

I (27f) have known this one online friend of mine (27m) for over 15 years, give or take. When we met we quickly became fast friends and we only grew closer from there. About 11 years ago I lost contact with them due to something happening to the site we met and talked on. We had no other means of communication and finding an alternative site wasn't something either of us thought about. I always thought about him and hoped he was doing okay.

Fast forward to about 4 years ago when I got a message from someone saying it was him. We started talking again and it was like we never lost contact. In fact, we were even closer than before. He started referring to me as his family/sister.

We talked about how, out of all the friends we made on that site, we were the only two still in contact. It was something we bonded over. We talked about how both of our life situations make it difficult to find and keep friends and how we were both grateful to have each other in our lives again. It was something we bonded over. I came out as aroace and talked about how I feared people around me leaving me behind once they got into a relationship because I wasn't as important to them anymore. He was one of the first people I came out to and was accepted by. Even though he wasn't aroace and was in a relationship, he said he somewhat understood what it was like to be abandoned in a situation like that. It was something we bonded over.

We never met in person but we had plans to. We always talked about it. We were close. We were each other's best friends, so I thought.

Imagine my surprise when I got a message from him out of the blue a few months ago saying that he was sorry but that he was going to have to start dedicating more time to his partner/SO because his abusive and toxic partner/SO** (his own words and description of partner/SO - not mine) was becoming increasingly more abusive/toxic*** and that he wouldn't be able to respond much anymore and to not feel bad because he was having to do this to other people too, not just me.

I'm not in a relationship, I'll never be in a relationship, therefore I don't know what it's like to be in one. I'll never know what that kind of romantic bond is like. Maybe it's normal to choose a partner/SO over a friend?

But I do know that it hurt reading that message. Still hurts. At the time I couldn't really think clearly so I cried for a bit then left then one last message on Discord about how I was sorry things turned out this way and that I wished things would have been different. How I wished both of our home situations were different - better - but that I couldn't do it anymore. I wished him the best and then removed him off my friend list and left the conversation before he could respond. I don't know if he ever saw it or not. He did try to add me back a few days after that but I declined it and haven't seen him send me another one or contact me on another site since.

I eventually got over it and only now started thinking about it again because I happened to go on another site that I haven't been on in years and saw a message from before we got in contact again about how much he missed me.

A part of me wants to try and reach out again because I feel bad for never giving them a chance to respond to my last message but the other part knows I'll probably just end up getting hurt again.

(*I'm not sure if I'm using this term properly?)

(**I feel like it's not my place to disclose this but I also feel as if it wasn't for that we'd still be friends? Or maybe I'm just delusional.)

(***I wasn't friends with partner/SO and I doubt partner/SO even knows I existed since I was only ever an online friend so I don't think having friends was the cause of partner/SO getting worse. I can only speculate though because I didn't know the full situation. I tried to tell friend to leave multiple times if it truly was as bad as he claimed but he said he was fine. There was nothing I could do to help beyond that unfortunately.)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[kaijuposting]

Pacific Rim deleted scene: Chuck and Hercules Hansen argue

While a few deleted scenes from Pacific Rim are available online, there's one I haven't been able to find anywhere - a scene where Chuck and Hercules Hansen have an argument.

IMO it's a damned shame that it was cut, because it adds a depth and tragedy to Chuck that was otherwise missing from the film, which in my view effectively flattened him into a two-dimensional antagonist with an equally two-dimensional redemption story.

So I figured, hey, I have the DVD, so why not transcribe it?

The scene takes place in the jaeger bay, where Chuck is repairing Striker Eureka while listening to rock music. And then Hercules enters.

CHUCK: Hydraulics are shot. We need to replace them.

HERCULES: Because we grounded Mako.

CHUCK: Good. That's half the right decision, but I want Becket off this mission more than I do her.

(Hercules Hansen turns off Chuck's music.)

CHUCK: I'm listening to that.

HERCULES: Who are you?

CHUCK: Excuse me?

HERCULES: I don't even recognize you, mate. Who are you?

CHUCK: Who am I? What do you mean?

HERCULES: You're a great ranger. Is that what you wanna hear? Everybody knows that.

CHUCK: What more do you want me to be?

HERCULES: A better person!

CHUCK: A better person.

(Chuck walks past Hercules, brushing against his shoulder.)

CHUCK: You know what? At least you can't blame yourself, because you didn't raise me to be anything. After Mom died, I spent more time with these machines than I ever did with you. And the only reason you and I even speak anymore, old man, is because we're drift compatible. Because we're good at smashing things up, you and I. You know what? We don't even need to speak at all. I'll catch you in the drift, Dad.

(Chuck walks away.)

#pacific rim #chuck hansen #hercules hansen #pacific rim deleted scene

[suzukiblu]

Hello all, I am honestly not even sure how long it's been since I've really talked to anyone online and I'm very sorry for just straight-up ghosting so many of you, but I'm trying to work on resuming my life and reconnecting with people a bit and especially trying to start picking up all of the commitments I've let myself drop in the past year or two.

Full disclosure, I've been having a bad time mentally for quite a while and just haven't been available to anyone in my life, online or off. I'm really sorry to have stressed people out with that because I know I did worry a few of you. I'm just not all here, to be honest, and I haven't handled it well. I'm having some personal struggles and just not doing my best taking care of the resulting issues--it's not anything trauma-based/triggered, it's more along the lines of problems with in-built psychological issues stemming from chemical imbalances that I just don't always manage as effectively as I could. But I'm not physically ill and haven't been in an accident or anything like that, and I'm trying to re-engage with life now. Catching up with people I owe communication/commissions/explanations to is on my list, but I just haven't managed to make it very far into said list yet. I am, however, physically healthy and in stable housing, and if anything emergency-adjacent happens I do have local friends and non-local family members I could get help from, so I'm not in an "immediate crisis" situation.

I'm just also unemployed, out of money, and scraping by on food stamps and state-issued healthcare that doesn't cover my previous psychiatrist, and I haven't been able to find a new one in-network who's taking patients and actually, like . . . calls me back when I leave a message or email them in interest of making an appointment. I'm signed up with a program that can help me get a job, hopefully, but the process is taking a little while and I'm not sure how long it'll take in the end, so the future is very nebulous at the moment.

And like . . . VERY full disclosure, I'm just very depressed and stuck being off my meds for the forseeable future. My room is a mess I can't bring myself to clean up, I feel like I can't engage meaningfully with a lot of things, I don't feel hopeful or optimistic at all, my emotional responses are all heavily muted, my coping mechanisms are avoiding breakdowns but are not long-term helpful or productive, and I'm neglecting a lot of people and things in my life and my own best interests because I just . . . don't care.

I know my situation and my feelings are largely just because I'm going through a major depressive phase unmedicated and with limited personal resources, it's not an end of the world scenario or anything. It's just been difficult and upsetting trying to find ways and motivation to fix my life and get out of that phase when I'm already feeling sunk in a quagmire and like I did all this to myself with my own mistakes, and I'm just trying to take things one step at a time and build back up from where I'm at.

So long story short: I'm not doing great right now but I'm stable, and I greatly appreciate the concern and grace I've been given while being just entirely off radar and am going to be doing my best to make right or make up for the neglect. If anyone wants or needs to check in on anything I owe them, please feel free to message me and ask; I'll be trying to contact everyone I owe anything to but given the brain-fog I've been dealing with I don't trust myself not to miss anybody in there, so believe me, if you feel the need I will in no way be offended and you'd probably be doing me a favor anyway.

Thank you all, you've all been so good to me over the years. I'll hopefully be in touch soon. ❤

#rintalk

[unichrome]

AI and the value of labour (but only if it's yours)

Few of you have missed the whole AI/AI-art/ChatGPT-debate by now and even though few have the technical literacy to actually know what it is and its implementations, it hasn't stopped people from having opinions on it, and wow they sure are Opinions. It's mainly about how it's art-theft and will put already struggling artists out of business because now there's a chance that their dandelion found in a deviantart furry artwork they made using GIMP once will now be seen made sort of in the same style on a 250x250 pixel generated picture from a free online generator. And now I'm going to be snarky about it but also highlight a problem seen from the other end of this - the value of labour, and I'm not talking about the artists labour here.

But first let's look back a little bit for some well-needed perspective:

The logic for this is nothing we haven't seen before; you can't copy art and have it made available for just everyone to use like this! In the early 2000's it put musicians out of business and destroyed music forever with the introduction of napster. Pirate bay is why movies no longer are being made. It has destroyed art as we know it when people tauntingly right-clicked on a cryptobro's NFT and clicked "save as" (which I assume is also very problematic for the people who are vehemently against AI art? It's a literal 1-to-1 copy of your work). Media corporations are dying because intellectual properties are no longer protected under the copyright laws after 70 or so years. In the 90's there was even some video star who literally murdered a radio star. With the introduction of vinyl, it even killed live music forever.

So technology has been destroying just about all forms of art as we know it for a while now and each time it's the same doomsday predictions from the newly formed kind of art-christianity where some art has soul (Good, Skilled Laboured artists) and others hasn't (Evil, of course).

Now for the informative part of the post:

In the 1970's, computers as we know them today began forming, and with it, the value of a computer programmers skill and labour. Alongside with this, they saw a growing problem: Corporations owned everything they made, and corporations will also have the whole say about what will be present on a computer and the price of everything present on it.

This was not very appreciated by neither the programmers, and nor the customers (although few saw this growing problem coming). So in a weird twist of fate, programmers became one of the most left-wing labour-rights occupation you could find by forming Free Software Foundation, GNU, and essentially setting the stage for you to be able to use the free GIMP software instead of buying a staggering price for Adobe's Photoshop. It enabled you to download firefox instead of buying a copy of internet explorer. Because yes, before this kind of software activism formed, and the general environment of software development became to make it as freely available as possible - and having an outright despise for corporations like Novell and Microsoft for taking such huge amount of money to their own pockets instead of the developers, literally every piece of software cost money. A LOT of money.

This kind of 100% for free software usage we're used to has also led to us no longer being appreciative of the work and skill that goes behind keeping a software not only developed and updated continuously for decades, but also spending money on keeping it hosted and delivered to you for free. We even joke and scoff about the mere thought of having to pay 0.99 Euro for an app we'd use daily and a developer spent 2 years in the making. Meanwhile, when someone offers to pay someone merely 10 euro or so for a handmade blanket, there's an outrage about the value of labour and skill. And rightfully so! I support that, and so should you, even if it's labour that you weren't the one making.

And it doesn't end there either - we all know corporations has no trouble finding new ways to charge you money. Organisations like Free Software Foundation, various Linux projects and Mozilla have campaigned for a freer usage in general, leading to fair-use laws, campaigning for the right to repair your technology instead of having to buy new one all the time, as well as preventing corporations from banning every other piece of software on a computer that they don't want you to have (from a competitor or free alternative of their software).

I mentioned Adobe specifically, because in the wave of anti-AI-art outcry, artists are campaigning for a ban on making software that uses other peoples artistic similarities (not copies mind you, similarities, meaning making it a copyright infringement to have art that is similar to yours, since that's what AI-art algorithms create), and I'm sure right off the bat many of you can see the huge problem with that, but Adobe sure isn't. They're also gladly in on this, because that would mean that free alternatives of Photoshop like GIMP would also become a copyright infringement. So would a lot of our other free software we use daily and take for granted.

That's all I wanted to say about this I think. The TL;DR version is basically to value labour even if it isn't yours, and to not take it for granted. As a final part to remember about AI is that it is a tool, and like any tool it can be used for good or evil. AI is what made it possible for us to make sense of the large hadron collider data and made enormous leaps in scientific discovery in just a few years, that would otherwise had taken 500 years to sort through by humans, and with a much higher rate of error.

#datatag #AI #computer science #labour #copyright

[love-toxin]

miss ellie i'm realizing now that i never told you now revolutionary your ocs are. like. i've been on this website for literal years and the day i found your blog was with an oc post where you introduced such a dynamic lineup with so much variety, it was the first i had ever seen. maybe i wasn't looking hard enough but you had poc yanderes AND trans yanderes it was the first time i had ever seen any (i know it sounds crazy to say but i'm being so fr rn.) even when i look through your old posts and reread them i just get blown away by how each one is different and has their own personality even though you have so many?? anyway it's late and i just wanted to say that ty <3

will you marry me?? 🥺

LOL to be for real though that makes me sooooo happy you don't even understand, I'm really glad i get to be that way for you and all you lovely people 💕💕 it's a blessing to be able to write & post my work and I'm genuinely happy to see people connecting with it.

tbh, the representation i try to portray accurately is a really long-standing relationship i have with writing & authorship in general. this might not be a terribly interesting bit of lore but back when i was in my teens and consuming a lot of fanfic online in the early forms of it (ff.net my love </3) that was something that hit me a lot in reading self-insert fic, because I'd always been a huge reader and was just then tapping into self-inserts and community fiction posting rather than just books. and i remember distinctly (i think partly bc I've always grown up in multicultural neighborhoods/had mixed family growing up) reading fanfics and having the thought of "huh, i can relate to this description or this experience, but that makes me wonder whether other people can."

funny enough, it was partly when i would read descriptions of the author giving a self-insert long hair or referencing their hair in some way, and I'd start wondering how girls who wore a hijab would read that same piece, cause i went to school with a bunch of girls who wore it or a full niqab. and so i started wondering more like "if i was black, would i relate to this experience in this fic? if i was trans or gender non-conforming, are there characters i can relate to? if i were a mix of these things, could i find somewhere i belong in this setting?" and since then it kind of became a focus in the way i wrote stuff going forward.

i think using inclusive language in fic writing is really integral to a greater horizon of people enjoying it, and thinking on my ocs i always wanted to have characters that people could really relate to. I'd stop a lot in my process of creating my initial sets of characters and try to keep in mind those thoughts that i had in reading fics; "if i were this or that, could someone in that position relate to the stories I'm writing? and if not, what can i change to make that happen?" because if people are going to enjoy my characters or find comfort in them i want everyone possible to have the ability to. it's kind of intimidating at times to write for experiences i haven't had personally but it led me (and still leads me) to do a ton of research, and in doing so I've been able to learn lots of really fascinating things in the process. in doing so, it made it really easy for my characters to develop their personalities through my writing because i think they inherently have identities that are complex, which is always the goal you want for any character in the first place.

sorry that this kinda went off on a ramble LOL, but after so many years of writing and with my degree under my belt i still really think about it a lot. I'm really glad what i wanted to do has come across and i hope you continue to enjoy my ocs!! ❤️❤️

#ellie chats #yandere ocs #i am actually soooo psyched u said this anon u deserve all my kisses <3 #anons

[willalove75]

Fem!reader trying to figure out Rebecca’s love language by trying the five (doesn’t matter which one you choose to make her main love language) 💕

Love this idea!! Thanks for the request! 💕

"So, are you and Rebecca getting more serious?" Keeley asks with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't know, I don't think so." You say as you scroll on your phone, the two of you having lunch in her new office.

"Why not?! You two have been together for months!"

You toss your phone onto the couch.

"Ugh, I don't know, I mean we get on really well, but I feel like there's something missing, but not like something's missing where it doesn't exist, I don't know." You sigh and lay back on the couch, cradling a pillow.

"Do you want it to get more serious? Or are you cool with this casual thing you've got going on?"

"I don't know, I mean, yes I'd love to get more serious with her, but, I also don't want to ruin what we have, you know? I haven't been able to connect with her on that deeper level yet I think."

"Well I've know you've both gone deeper in other ways!" She laughs.

"Keeley!!" You throw a pillow at her and laugh. "I'm serious! I really like her and I really want this to work." You bury your face into the pillow in your lap.

"Well do you know what her love language is?" She asks, you look up at her.

"No? I don't even know what that is."

"WHAT?! Oh my god come here we're gonna find out what yours is." She runs around to her desk and pulls up some online quiz.

You sit at her desk chair and look at her confused. Keeley explains the five love languages, words of affirmation, acts of service, quality time, physical touch and gifts.

"Huh." You say and take the test, you immediately get your results and find out what yours are:

Words of Affirmation, 2. Physical Touch, 3. Quality Time, 4. Acts of Service, 5. Gifts.

"Yeah that makes sense." Keeley says looking at your results.

"I guess so, but how do I find out what hers are? Just make her take this quiz?"

"No! That's not romantic, you should try to figure them out, just go down the list and try them and see which one she responds best to!"

"If you say so." You say looking at the list. You're definitely nervous but wiling to try.

You head back to the office and think of what her love language might be. "Well, I think she likes getting things, so maybe gifts?" You think to yourself. You're going on a date with her later tonight so you pick up some flowers and head back to work.

You get home, get ready for you date and leave. You get to the restaurant before Rebecca and you decide to wait outside for her. Her car pulls up and she hands her keys to the valet and sees you.

"There you are." She says with a smile.

She walks up to you and looks down at the flowers.

"What are those?" She asks with a smile.

"I got you flowers," you say sheepishly. "I saw them and thought they were pretty and I decided to get them for you."

"Aw." She says and gives you a kiss. "Thank you."

You both head inside, sit down at the table and order.

"So, do you like getting gifts?" You ask, unsure if she really liked it or was just being nice.

She pauses for a moment. "Yeah, I mean I don't dislike it." She says but quickly follows up with "but I love the flowers, they're beautiful."

"I'm glad." You say with a smile.

"Why do you ask?"

"No reason, when I was buying them I realized I wasn't even sure if you liked getting stuff so I figured I'd ask." You say and take a sip of wine.

"Don't get me wrong, I like it, but Rupert would love bomb me with all of these lavish, expensive things all the time and after a while it stopped being special, especially since he would do it every time I thought he was cheating on me, which he was, but used that as a way to distract me. It got quite old fast."

"Aw, yeah that definitely takes the fun out of it." You say.

"Yeah, a bit."

Gifts were out, you decide to try out acts of service next.

A few weeks later you have your next date, Rebecca invites you over her house for dinner and you offer to cook. When dinner is finished she goes to clean the table.

"That was amazing, thank you so much for cooking." She says.

"Of course! I'm glad you liked it. Here, let me get that." You say getting up.

"No it's okay," she says with a smile.

"No really, it's okay I don't mind."

"But you cooked!"

"I know,"

"How about we clean up together then?" She suggests.

Knowing you won't win you agree. "Okay, fine."

There goes acts of service. Two down, three left.

You load the dishwasher as you look over at her wiping down the table. You lean against the counter and just watch her for a minute. Even doing something so mundane, she looks beautiful. You really, really care about her and you want to take this to the next level. She looks over and catches you staring at her.

"What are you looking at?" She says with a smile.

"Nothing, I just- it's crazy how beautiful you look doing literally everything."

She smiles and walks over to you and puts her hands on your hips and kisses you. You look into her eyes for a minute and get lost in them.

"What?" She says.

"Nothing, I was just thinking about how lucky I am that I have you in my life. You're amazing."

Her lips curl into a smile and she puts her hands on your face and pulls you in for a kiss.

Words of affirmation definitely works, but you're not sure if that's her main love language. You're getting restless so you try and combine the last two.

"Wanna put on comfy clothes and watch a movie?" You ask.

"I would love to." She says with a smile.

You both change and she meets you on the couch.

"What do you want to watch? A horror movie?" She asks.

"Absolutely not." You say with a laugh.

"Right, I forgot you were terribly boring." She says teasing you.

You scoff and go to tickle her. "I am not!"

"No no no!!" She says laughing and grabs your hands after you're able to get a few pokes in. "I fucking hate that."

"Right, I forgot you were terribly boring." You say imitating her with a laugh.

She laughs and gives you a playful scowl and grabs the remote. You come across a rom-com you both haven't seen and decide to watch it. She lays across the couch and drapes her legs over your lap, you put your hand on her calf and gently stroke it with your thumb.

"Do you want a foot rub, or a backrub or something?" You ask.

She sits up and pauses the movie and looks at you.

"You have been so weird lately. What is going on?"

"Ugh," you rest your head on her knee as it's bent over your legs. You look up at her.

"What?" She asks, looking at you with a hint of concern in her eyes.

"A few weeks ago I was talking to Keeley and she told me about the five love languages, and I had never heard about them and I realized I didn't know what yours were so she told me to try and figure it out because it was more romantic than just asking you."

"Seven."

"What?"

"There are actually seven love languages." She says.

"What!? What are the other two?!"

"Expression of affection and love is one of them. The other, which happens to be mine, is communication. Those two might not be official ones actually. But I liked them so I count them."

"Shit!! So I was never gonna get it then."

She laughs as she adjusts and sits back on her heels facing you.

"Afraid not." She says with a smile.

"What even is the communication love language?!"

"Just simple communication, talking to one another, being honest, explaining what you're experiencing or feeling, telling your partner what your needs are, things like that. I lacked that so much in my last relationship, I don't think I can ever be with someone again without being able to really communicate with each other. But if we're talking about the traditional five, I think mine is words of affirmation."

"Well then," you say grabbing her hand. "I'm sorry that I didn't communicate that I was trying to find out your love languages."

Her eyes sparkle when you say that to her, you can tell that just acknowledging her love language meant so much to her.

"So why were you and Keeley talking about love languages anyway?"

You chuckle and your cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"She had asked if we were getting more serious and I told her I really wanted to, but I felt like there was a piece missing," you see her eyes get a little sad and you grab her hand. "And I said it's not like there's something missing that doesn't exist between us, more like something that was an obstacle, that stopped us from going there. I don't know how to describe it, but I know it's there, I just didn't know how to get there." You furrow your brows, not being able to correctly express your thoughts. "I don't know if any of that made sense."

You see her relax a little and she studies your face.

"Do you want to get more serious?"

You take a deep breath, fearful that she'll reject the idea.

"Yes. I do, but I'm so afraid of fucking up what we have, because I really, really like what we have." You pause and sheepishly look at her. "But I also really want to call you my girlfriend, and be able to be affectionate with each other in public, around our friends. Just, be a real couple I guess."

She continues to study your face as she smiles.

"Do you want to get more serious?" You cautiously ask.

"I would like that very much."

"Really?" You look deep into her eyes.

Rebecca nods her head and cups your face in her hands and kisses you. Her tongue slides into your mouth and your tongue dances around hers. She climbs into your lap and you slide one hand up to the back of her neck and hold onto her waist with the other as she holds your face in her hands. The kiss continues and eventually your lips slowly part. You study each others faces for a moment before Rebecca breaks the silence.

"I never asked, what's your love language?"

"Words of affirmation, physical touch," You pause and try to remember the rest. "Quality time, acts of service and gifts. What were the rest of yours? The normal five." You say with a laugh.

"Words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service," She pauses to think. "Physical touch and gifts."

You two stare into each others eyes for a moment and smile, taking in every detail of the others face.

"I can't imagine my life without you." Rebecca says as she looks into your eyes.

You feel your heart soar at her words, you look back into her eyes with a smile on your face.

"It's a little scary." She says.

The happiness on your face melts into worry.

"I already know I can very easily fall in love with you. But you're worth it."

You feel your eyes get glossy at her words. Every fear you had about losing what you have with her vanishes.

"I already am, and I wouldn't want to fall in love with anyone else."

She's touched by your words, even a little surprised, but very happy. She smiles at you and you both pull each other closer for another kiss. After a few minutes of making out you part and cuddle into each other. She buries her face into your neck and you lay your head on hers. Your arms wrapped around her as she sits in your lap. You're distracted by the tv automatically shutting off since the movie was paused for so long.

"So much for the movie." You say with a giggle.

"Oh well," she says. "I'd much rather do this anyway."

"Me too."

#rebecca welton x reader #hannah waddingham #rebecca welton fanfic #rebecca welton #ted lasso fic #ted lasso #wlw fanfic #willalove75

[telomeke-bbs]

On my third re-watch of Bad Buddy, I've been doing a bit more reading of the comments on YouTube, which I presume will disappear if the series is removed now that it's going to Viki.

I notice from the YouTube comments at least some people think PatPran were having sex at least as early as episode 8, while I took the start of their sex life as episode 11 which was when they made it clear.

Given the lack of R scenes in the series (no complaints, if it's a great series I'm happy either way) it's hard to say for sure. I tend to be on the literal side so need more direct indications that a sex scene is about to occur or has just occurred. I'm wondering where the clues might be that others are tuning into and I've missed.

If you've already written about this please feel free to link.

SEX??? IN MY BBS???!!! 👀

Hi dear friend @pandasmagorica! 😍 You're so right that Bad Buddy doesn't show us any of PatPran's lovemaking directly, and like you I didn't miss it at all…

But before I go any further, I should insert a trigger warning here for the sex-averse among anybody else who might be reading this – sex talk incoming! (I'll be avoiding some of the coarser language as that's not my style, but I will be mentioning some details of man-on-man sex if I have to…) So minors please stay away!

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Like so much of BBS (e.g., the actual relationship between Ming and Dissaya in high school, Ming's relationship with his father, Pat's descent into his gangster era after his high school rupture with Pran, the foundations of Wai and Pran's friendship), Pat and Pran having sex is one aspect of their relationship that was alluded to but not shown to us graphically onscreen.

For me this was in keeping with the narrative style of Bad Buddy as a whole (in which we the viewers had to fill in some gaps ourselves), as well as its preference to focus on the emotional dynamics of their love story, rather than showing us every physical manifestation of their liaison.

On my initial watch I too thought that PatPran's first physical coupling only happened in Ep.11, during their honeymoon at the Zero Waste Village. I settled into this conclusion primarily because we weren't shown any overt depiction of the boys hooking up physically – and also because of one moment at Ep.9 [3‌/4]:

(above) Bad Buddy Ep.9 [3‌/4] 5.38 – Pat and Pran chorus "Not yet" at Korn, when asked if they'd been having sex

When Korn is made to wait before being admitted into Pran's apartment by a nearly-naked Pat – only to see a disheveled Pran in bed, and the bedclothes all awry – he assumes (at Ep.9 [3‌/4] 5.36) that Pat and Pran's sexy time was the reason for the delay. But his assumption is met with an indignant "Not yet" chorused by both Pat and Pran in unison, and this to me (at the time of my first watch) was telegraphing the message that the boys were resolutely putting off sex until they were both ready for it later.

But there's really nothing to suggest why they should be doing this (other than maybe Pran getting a case of the ick whenever Pat gets too sappily romantic and/or touchy-feely – understandable, and certainly not insurmountable for one so much in love).

And for me this view of a sexless, virginal Pat and Pran pre-Ep.11 didn't gel with the other details that became apparent on subsequent re-watches. It's possible the "yang" that Pat and Pran chorused (at Ep.9 [3‌/4] 5.38) may have an affective sense of negation that is somewhat different from the plain "no" or "not yet" suggested by the subtitles (though I haven't been able to find any confirmation of it online). But anyway I now think that they were just telling Korn that he'd caught them right before the main event (which is supported by Korn's embarrassment, and also Pat saying he wouldn't mind being late for dinner with the guys if he could just get a "reward" from Pran, at Ep.9 [3‌/4] 4.11 and 4.27). 😂

There are also some other clues pointing to the likelihood that Pat and Pran were not waiting to indulge in the physical side of their love, well before the clearly pre- and post-coital scenes that we see onscreen later in Episodes 11 and 12.

The Sexual Tension: From early on Pat and Pran had a track record of getting right up in each other's personal space, in tableaux of their own making absolutely saturated with sexual tension. These two, but especially Pat, demonstrated time and again that not only were they comfortable getting physically close to each other, there seemed to be an unspoken need to do so as well.

Pran deep in his crush was fighting it all the way (witness him pushing Pat away all the time), while Pat's motivations were a bit less clear (and yet he was almost always the one to initiate close encounters of the physical kind).

Some examples of this–

Ep.1 [3‌/4] 1.13 (when they were hiding from Korn, Mo and Chang in the side alley of the faculty Chemical Room):

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Ep.2 [1‌/4] 6.23 (in the toilet cubicle, when Pat "forgot" he'd not washed his hands before clamping it on Pran's mouth in some kind of an unconscious sublimation – Pran wasn't making any sound and his mouth was closed, but Pat couldn't help himself anyway 😂):

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Ep.2 [4/4] 11.21 (when they both realized, however subconsciously, that their competitive grappling at the apartment viewing had begun to take on strangely erotic overtones – patently obvious to all, even the hapless real estate agent who inadvertently burst in on them):

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Ep.4 [4/4] 3.41 (the rugby clinch, leading to Pat's line "If you hug me this tight, you might as well take me as your boyfriend" – sexual and other significance explained here):

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And of course Ep.5 [4/4] 11.53 (The Kiss, that literally and figuratively sucked away all oxygen from people on either side of the screen – their yearning, physical hunger for each other was already so evident each time it bubbled to the surface, but of course its explosive climax was when they both admitted it overtly to each other, during this Epic Rooftop Kiss at the end of Ep.5):

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BBS actually shows us Pat staying over at Pran's apartment and sharing the one bed in Ep.8 (at Ep.8 [1‌/4] 1.28. Nong Nao's presence in Pran's bed means that Pat must have been there before he got up to make breakfast; at Ep.8 [1‌/4] 5.34 Pat himself confirms that he spends nights at Pran's, "rehearsing" certain aspects of the Kwan and Riam play, in its BL reincarnation).

Given how much sexual tension is on display from early on, it seems only logical to me that there must have been some rumpy-pumpy hanky-panky going on below the waist, even though we don't get to see it onscreen. Indeed, Pa tells us as much with her observation on the morning after another such "rehearsal": 😂

(above) Bad Buddy Ep.8 [1‌/4] 5.46

Nong Nao as Agent of (Sexual) Subterfuge:  In my opinion, another big tell that Pat and Pran were already doin' the deed (or at least going beyond second base) is even earlier, at Ep.7 [2/4] 5.36, when we learn that Pat had left Nong Nao behind in Pran's apartment.

(above) Bad Buddy Ep.10 [1‌/4] 8.53

We know that Pat hugs Nong Nao to fall asleep (he says so at Ep.4 [4/4] 11.30 and Ep.7 [2/4] 5.46). But the reason behind this is that Pat needs Nong Nao – his Linus blanket – to calm his fears when he's psychologically vulnerable, alone with his own thoughts and dreams (analyzed here). It doesn't make sense that he would be carrying Nong Nao around with him outside and away from his own bed, unless it was for sleepy-time comfort – so how did Rotten Little One end up in Pran's apartment?

Pat wouldn't have brought Nong Nao over to Pran's unless he knew he'd be staying the night. For example, we see this when he sneaks over to spend the night with Pran at Ep.12 [3‌/4] 4.37 – though why he'd need to kimono-cloak himself with the bedclothes like that is a little beyond me:

Maybe this is BBS emphasizing Nong Nao's role as Pat's security blanket, swaddling him in protection from his night-time fears? 🤷‍♂️ (Or is Pat naked under those bedcovers? His lust for Pran is so great he doesn't want to waste even the few seconds it would take to strip once he's with his beloved? 🤣)

Anyway, Nong Nao left behind in Pran's apartment suggests that Pat was already sleeping there as early as Ep.7. It could be possible that it was for other reasons, but I refuse to kid myself – we're talking about two young men deep in the heady flush of hormonal (and fully reciprocated) teenage love here. Given their pre-existing propensity for physical closeness (that mirrored their emotional intimacy), I can't imagine Pat and Pran would be keeping their hands off each other in private for long.

So when Pat left Nong Nao behind in Ep.7 (a ploy of course, to get Pran over for more), I really don't think he had been spending time in Pran's apartment just so they could study building construction together… any more than they would be chastely reading scriptures or practicing quilting. 😂

And of course when Pran went over to Pat's apartment to return Nong Nao, the situation soon devolved into a mutual seduction exercise that even referenced the passionate Ep.5 Rooftop Kiss (Pran's "Do you still want us to be friends?" at Ep.7 [2/4] 9.59).

‌On my re-watch, I think the competitive roughhousing we witness in Ep.7 [2/4] is actually Pat and Pran's own version of foreplay prior to actual intercourse – and they most certainly would have gone there had they not been interrupted by Pa and her wayward bladder (hence their guilty looks when she bursts in on them; they definitely had almost been caught in flagrante delicto, which Pat then has to sublimate away with bare-bodied crunches while Pran abandons the food he'd brought – and we know food is also often a stand-in for sex in Thai BL, referenced for example at Ep.12 [2/4] 11.54).

Food and Sex:  Another scene where food was used as a metaphor for sex, that also suggests Pat and Pran had already been gettin' it on well before we see them in the afterglow of their Ep.11 honeymoon passions, took place during their cookout with Junior by the beach (scene starting at Ep.11 [2/4] 2.43):

Laced with lots of meaningful glances between Pat and Pran, the dialogue was peppered with several suggestive lines (mostly from Pat, but also acknowledged with knowing – if rueful – smiles from Pran) hinting at more adult meanings within the word play (all thankfully opaque to young Junior):

"All I do is eat" – the verb "to eat" in Thai (กิน/gin) is also slang for "to consume (someone) sexually";

"…I do many things for my lover too" – suggesting that Pat and Pran were already having sex;

"Like what?"… "Wait until you're older" – Pat shut down Junior's line of questioning, because the subject was unmissably adult (to the adults in the room).

And Junior's innocent comment "You don't have to pound it so hard. Cover it with your hand – it's spattering" also got Pran chuckling silently, because it coincidentally fit with his and Pat's subtextual zingers about their sex life even while all of that hidden discourse was flying above Junior's head (and rightly so too).

Pat also points a cucumber at Pran while admonishing Junior, further upping the innuendo quotient – basically his answer to "Tell me you're talking about sex without telling me you're talking about sex" 😂. (The Thai word for cucumber – แตงกวา/dtaaeng gwaa – is also slang for penis; see this Wiktionary entry linked here: ภาษาปาก, สแลง – อวัยวะเพศชาย.)

(above) Bad Buddy Ep.11 [2/4] 3.49

It could be possible that Pat and Pran had sex the night before, but I think that's highly unlikely given how exhausted they were after their bus journey to the beach. (Plus they were expected to be up early enough to earn their keep helping the fishermen.) I suppose you could read Pat's hijinks at the cookout as him setting the scene for their nuptial relations to come, i.e., that they hadn't done it before but were heading to it now, which was my asexual take on it the first time around watching this. But this doesn't align with what Pat and Pran tell us on the beach later, and I changed my mind on subsequent re-watches. 😉

Beer and "Kisses" on the Rocks:  When Pat and Pran have their heartfelt tête-à-tête on the rocky breakwater at Khao Tao Beach (scene starting at Ep.11 [3‌/4] 9.50), there is a line of questioning that confirms (for me at least) they not only had been intimate before, but that they'd also been alternating their roles in bed.

What they say is perhaps open to some degree of interpretation, but I can't see how it could mean anything else…

When Pat says at Ep.11 [3‌‌/4] 12.50 "Here comes the last question. Can I kiss you?" it seemed straightforward enough at first viewing – another of BBS's nods at consent perhaps, with the boys turning quaintly Victorian about physical contact. But it's discordant with the energies we've seen them display before – at the Chem. Room alleyway, in the toilet cubicle, and on the rooftop in Ep.5. It's true the first two times Pat invaded Pran's personal space because he was trying to save him; and the third time he gave ample notice of his intentions. But the boys had never been coy with each other, so Pat suddenly turning into a bashful knight wordily asking for permission to kiss really makes no sense.

Then, however, Pran's response of "Isn't it my turn?" really puts Pat's question into context, and I think it qualifies as a lightbulb moment that illuminates an aspect of their hitherto mostly hidden sex life.

Yes, it is possible to read Pran's insistence ("No. It's my turn") as the boys simply taking turns at being the first to initiate lip-to-lip action, but even my ever-forgiving fan theorist's brain finds that too contrived an explanation. Plus PatPran's kisses are hardly about energy in one direction only – since each gives as good as he receives (e.g., at Ep.5 [4/4] 11.53 and Ep.11 [3‌/4] 13.27).

(above) Bad Buddy Ep.11 [3‌/4] 13.33 – is it really possible to take turns when doing this?

All this talk about taking turns really makes no sense – unless it's not actually about kisses.

My read is that the word จูบ/juup (whose dictionary definition is to kiss) is really PatPran's codeword for whoever gets to top the other during sex (like the verb baiser in French, which does similar semantic double duty). This also tells us that our two versatile scamps, both alike in dignity, had been alternating roles in bed like two gentlemen Romeos indeed… and trust our pernickety Pran to be keeping a record of who did what the last time! 😂

The fact that they have a working system in place with the rules of engagement already defined (and that Pat is seeking to deviate from) suggests that this isn't something novel that they just came up with in the days before.

(above) Bad Buddy Ep.11 [3‌/4] 14.00 – prelude to a "juup"

And getting graphical in an aside here for a moment – since prostate orgasms are typically far more intense than the other kinds men can experience, what we're also seeing here is Pat and Pran jostling to see who can give the other the gift of greater pleasure (and in doing so deriving a substantial measure of it for themselves too). It's consistent with the competitive drumbeat to which their couplehood thrums and marches, and is also a microcosm of their relationship as a whole – that whenever one of them lets his lover win, he gets to win as well too. 🤩

Anyway, Pran flat-out refuses to give up his turn (Ep.11 [3‌/4] 13.15), and the idea that kiss = top is borne out by his questions as the big spoon later – "Was I good?... How much do I get, out of ten?" (Ep.11 [3‌/4] 14.55 and 15.07).

I have more information about this exchange in my write-up linked here – Pat's sign language response really also points very strongly to the conclusion that Pran did top Pat on their honeymoon night. 🥰

(above) Bad Buddy Ep.11 [3‌/4] 15.25 – a satisfied Pat uses wordless symbolism to tell expert sign-reader Pran that his performance the night before deserves a top score of 10

So based on this record of alternating bedroom roles, I now truly do believe Pat and Pran had been having sex from way before (maybe even as early as Ep.7), not only going the whole distance but also taking turns equally at giving and receiving. Pran's insistence on his "turn" wouldn't have made much sense otherwise. And this was BBS also putting paid to the fascination some fans have for the formulaic stereotyping about seme/uke and top/bottom roles in BL.

P.S. Now in spite of all that I've written above, I do concede that a lot of it is based on inference and clue-reading, and that it's still possible to read Pat and Pran as doing nothing more than making out and heavy petting, right up until Ep.11. A possible reason might be a reluctance on Pran's part to go all the way (perhaps BBS playing with the blushing maiden trope?), given how much exasperation he shows whenever Pat turns clingy (e.g., at Ep.9 [2/4] 5.21, Ep.9 [3‌/4] 4.29 and Ep.11 [1‌/4] 15.19, though it's also evident he's always charmed by Pat's antics despite himself). The boys also could have begun taking turns in their matrimonial bed only after they got to the Zero Waste Village, though I don't see how they could have had the time for more than a single go (especially since they were all tired out by the family drama of Ep.10 and their journey to get to the beach). And this would make Pran's "Isn't it my turn?" a little odd, since phrasing it as a question implies enough rounds for them to be unclear on whose turn it should be. Plus (as previously mentioned) the use of the codeword kiss implies it's already an established system (i.e., not created in the previous few days) that they both understand. Like I said, it's possible – but given the ensemble of clues and signs pointing at PatPran's sex life, I really do not think it is likely. It could be that Director Aof and team were skirting the sexual dimension in order to tone BBS down enough to make it past the censors for more general viewing (and in this way allow its message to reach the younger generation as well). Thus the greater reliance on innuendo and inference to suggest rather than show outright that there was more going on between the lines (behind the curtain? Noting that the novel on which BBS is based is titled Behind the Scenes 🤩) with regard to physical love between Pat and Pran (and is an apt metaphor for the storytelling of BBS as a whole, where nothing is as it seems at first glance – discussed more in detail in my write-up linked here). And this is possibly the meaning underlying the innuendo-laden cookout with Junior – the scene is a capsule summary of BBS where the surface theatrics are inoffensive enough for viewing by the younger set, while the more adult themes embedded in the narrative will become visible only if you look at them with more experienced eyes, and thus will satisfy more mature audiences as well. The end result isn't as anodyne as My School President (nor could it have been, given the weightiness of the encoded themes) but BBS still managed to land the 13+ age rating, which isn't at all bad if they were wanting to get its important messaging about LGBTQ+ positivity out to younger teens. And that messaging would be further reinforced, and with even less sexual content – zero in my book – when MSP hit the screens later of course. 💖

‌ P.P.S. This is not 100% related, but I have to put in a little side-note here about Pran's comfort object (his PP hobo bag). In my head I'm convinced part of why that bag works for Pran as his security blanket is not just because it's a physical shield or something to hold on to when out and about.

(above) Bad Buddy Ep.11 [1‌/4] 4.24 – Pat and Pran arrive once more at the Zero Waste Village, but this time around they're a confirmed couple seeking refuge for their forbidden love

I think Pran's comfort object also functions like a Mary Poppins Bag of Requirement, allowing him to carry all sorts of stuff to counter any eventuality life might throw his way, and thus also bestowing on him a sense of control in the outside world. Now gay sex can sometimes be a messy affair – but knowing canon OCD Pran, I'm pretty sure that bag held all the necessary accoutrements for our boys to have a smooth, muss-free and fuss-free ride on their honeymoon romps, and with easy clean-up assured afterwards as well… 😉

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#bad buddy #patpran #bad buddy sex #patpran sex #bad buddy analysis #tw: sex