#hope it's still readable & predictable

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

ok here i go full hc prompt🥳🤩🤩

m6 in the ✨✋Future🤚✨ or at least to them, relatively, from their medievaissance-y mixed bag nonspecified time period to something resembling our times! i personally like to consider it still Their World, fictional, which just progressed to look like ours now (it literally makes zero difference to anybody except the inner machinations of my annoying ass but yeah ifykyk) basically yknow shooting a medieval peasant into 2023 & giving him mountain dew type beat

The Arcana HCs: M6 in the Future

~ @tetsuooooooooooo this was so much fun, thank you for sending it in and I hope you enjoy these!! ~

-- for headcanon purposes, MC is from the future and is tasked with taking care of M6 during their 24 hours there --

Julian

It takes him less than two minutes to figure out where (read: when) he is and his response is nothing short of enthusiastic

Please, he's been around the world, and he's got a delightful guide, and he really, really wants to know if his theories about leeches ended up being correct

He actually gets a little emotional when a quick google search shows him how wrong he was and you end up having to take him exploring to cheer him up and distract him from his failures

You have a really hard time explaining to him that clinics don't allow doctors without medical degrees to waltz in and observe random patients getting treatments

You take him to see a movie and he's transfixed

The screen is so big. The actor's faces are so clear. The drama is so much more than anything he could have imagined. And they come with music?? Hums the soundtrack for the rest of the day

If you show him that one version of Jurassic Park with Jeff Goldblum in it Julian will imitate him sporadically afterwards

Enjoys fast food way more than he should. Especially instant noodles. Will spend half an hour trying to pack some to take back

Fascinated by the concept of typing

You hit a button to make the next letter appear instead of writing it? But MC, this means that everything he wants to communicate through text could be easily readable. Imagine!

Freaks out a bit when you try to take him in a car. He's surprisingly comfortable in a metro, though, so you'll have to do with public transportation and bicycles

Oh yeah, he loves bicycles. He only crashed into three trees, a wall, and a stranger's parked car before getting the hang of it

He's convinced that earbuds don't actually play music, they just trick your brain into thinking that you can hear it

Almost exploded when you gave him coldbrew coffee

Asra

They know instantly that they're in a different version of reality. Sure, they've never traveled through time, but they've traveled through plenty of other dimensions

He's the least ruffled, and unfortunately, the least impressed. Don't get him wrong, this looks super cool, but this isn't any more otherworldly to him than the otherworldly places he's already been

Wants to go on a food tour immediately. Not the nice stuff though

No, they want the questionable food. The is-this-going-to-make-me-regret-existing food. The food that, if it was shown in an anime, would be pixelated and have threatening auras around it

So chill about what you tell him to do it's almost concerning

"Here Asra, climb into this four-wheeled hunk of metal that can travel over 100 miles an hour and hold yourself in with a single fabric strap while I pilot this through hundreds of other things just like it, driven by people we don't know and can't predict."

"Cool. Where do I put Faust?"

Don't tell them about edibles unless you want them to spend their day hunting some down and absolutely going to town on them

You swear you saw his hair stand on end the first time he tried popping candy

When you took them to get their radioactive meal (a.k.a. the closest fast food chain with the fewest ethical violations) they insisted on picking up one of every sauce packet to try them all

... and when he saw a nine-year-old mixing two different fountain drinks, he of course grabbed the largest cup available and went down the line so he could taste all of them at once too

You've never seen them this jittery and sugar high, so of course the next place to go is a trampoline park, with the bright lights and loud music and bodies hurtling through the air

He should not be getting the amount of air time that he does

Has a meltdown over modern fluffy blankets. They're so soft

Nadia

Gobsmacked. As in, she's a highly intelligent woman, and therefore able to really wrap her head around what she's seeing

The future!! She's in the future, Arcana help her

But she's got you and she adores you and she knows she can trust you so she's going to be okay. That said, start explaining. Now.

First things first: how's the infrastructure? She can't see any canals or aqueducts. Or fireplaces or lanterns, for that matter, what do you do for light? And cooking? (Cooking uses fire, right?)

Literally cannot walk past anything new without stopping to try to figure out how it works and if there's a way to recreate it herself

Bicycles on a rack? She's spinning the pedal and trying to figure out the balancing dynamics of two-wheeled movement

Almost lost it when she found out that it was possible to lift the hood of a car and look at the engine inside that makes it go. You decided to take her on public transportation instead

Which turned into all kinds of excited brainstorming about public carriages, and gondolas built for 20 people ferrying people along the aqueducts, and new and terrifying uses for the catacombs

Wasn't very impressed with the fashion she saw

She knows what good quality cloth looks like. This is a women who grew up in silks and fine linens, polyester does not impress her

Except for the stretchiness. She does like that

The perfume counter, on the other hand, takes up a good hour and a half of her time. She's smelled plenty of fine scents before, but she's never been in a shop where she could sniff so many at a time

This one smells like Prakra. This one smells like Vesuvia. This one smells like the beach. This one smells like the woods. This one ...

Yeah, it was an excellent opportunity to take a nap, if you're the napping sort. You wake up to her testing perfumes on you because she ran out of space on herself

Gets so frustrated when you explain your government setup to her

Muriel

Oh no, please be very gentle with him

He likes to live in the woods because it is peaceful and quiet and it's one place he doesn't stand out in

He stands out in this place very, very much and he doesn't like it

Refuses to leave the room he appeared in until his appearance is as unremarkable as possible (which is not easy to do, by the way, the man is a mountain. modern clothes in his size are hard to find)

Does not want to go in the car. It's way too fast and it makes him seasick when he closes his eyes to shut it out

Buses are somehow easiest - they feel the least claustrophobic when they're not crowded and it's rude to stare on them

You two end up going to a natural history museum in the middle of a weekday when hardly anybody is there, and he lights up

There are so many animals, and there are enough other people in the world who find those animals interesting that they gathered so much knowledge people had to make a building to hold it all

Has never heard evolutionary theory before and is fascinated by it

Once he starts talking, it's hard for him to stop

He's not being loud at all - you can only hear him so clearly because you two are holding hands so he can't lose you - but he's being quietly submerged in his own special interest and he loves it

He just wishes there weren't so many skeletons. But he's glad the species they belonged to aren't forgotten this way

Long story short, Muriel's inner Nerd is unleashed and he goes hoarse from the amount of murmuring he does all day

Does not like getting food in public. Does not like eating food in public. Does not like being publicly perceived. As soon as it gets into afternoon and it gets busy, he wants to go home

Which is where you show him what the internet is and he's in awe

People can work from home? People can make friends without leaving their house?? People can talk without being seen???

Portia

Spends five minutes hopping in place and squealing into her clothes to let out her nerves and excitement before you can decide what to do

Then insists on taking half an hour to hear you describe every single fun or interesting thing to do so she can make a list

Yes, she's determined to hit every single one in one day

First things first: food. Take her to a cafe and watch her sigh over all the baked goods and sugar-loaded caffeine beverages

Then (if there is one nearby) a mall, so she can see all the stuff that people buy so they can have the lifestyle they do. You have to drag her out of both Bath & Body Words and Bed, Bath, & Beyond

Please, it's full of fluffy fuzzy things and good smelling mystery goo, she wants to live in it also what do you mean "no stopping at the pet store", what even is a "pet store" -

Oh. OH -

You will have to physically pull her away before she adopts all the kittens. She does cry about it later, just a for a bit, they're so cute

Next is a library and cafe, of course, because she lives for books

This place is way bigger than the Palace library! The one in the Palace is just a large room, this is a whole building!! And people get to come here, whenever they want, just to read, for free?! What?!

You had to remind her about the "no loud noises in the library" rule several times. She's doing her best, she's just passionate

Completely demolishes her first chocolate croissant

Goes feral at the amusement park she has you take her to afterwards. This woman is an adrenaline fiend. You're cursing the pop up add for it by the fourth consecutive free fall ride

The only way to get her to leave is to tell her that one of her favorite stories was turned into a movie and that you'd have to go home to watch it. Don't take her to Target to get snacks. She'll disappear

Flicks the lightswitch 30 times in a row because she can

Lucio

He's immediately panicking. Not because he's in the future, no, but because of what it's done to his arm

It's changed. It's not running on magic any more. The only way to resolve his design is for it to be some kind of high-tech electrical prosthetic that even modern scientists would have difficulty with

Once he's adjusted to using it, you're good to go

Lights up like a firework the first time he rides in a car

MC. MC how fast does it go. MC that's a very high number. MC, he wants to drive. Please. Please! Pleeeaaaassssseeee

DO NOT LET HIM DRIVE.

Makes you pull over after seeing ads for Sephora because he's convinced that he could pull off that eye makeup even better

Tries every single makeup sampler and then gets offended when one of the poor employees suggests an anti-aging cream

Him? Aged?? How dare they - oh wait that really does brighten his eyes. He'll take ten, please, they're so small, they can't cost much -

You'll have to pull him out before he sees you use a credit card, because once he does he's going to keep asking to use it and you're not sure he understands why maxing it out is a bad thing

His arm does run out of battery at one point, which does cause some panic. All of a sudden he's stuck with a limp hunk of metal swinging from his shoulder, it's not ideal

You're able to find the retractable charging cable on the side and plug him in, but then he's stuck sitting in the same spot for two hours and a bored Lucio is a dangerous Lucio

There is a solution to this, of course. You can give him an iPad with games on it. He won't move a muscle after that

The caveat is that he will turn into an iPad kid and get glued to every single screen he sees afterwards. You don't know how to fix it

Falls in love with vending machines and tries Cheetos because the leopard on them looks cool. Develops an artificial cheese addiction

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana shitpost #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[primrosebow]

HEYY!!! i love your art soo much!!! Your post abt the hazbin hotel women 🩷🩷 its so GOODD!! As Vaggies #1 fan i love how you wrote for her and drew her! I love how you added little details like the night dress(id fuck her in her night dress too she looks so cute:3) but i was wondering if you could maybe do some rosie x reader nfsw🙏 PLSS she barely gets any love and your writing(and art but yoy dont have to draw her if you dont want tooo) is so good!! Anyways could i maybe be 🎀 annon? i hope you have a good day!!! Bye

Hey I'm back from trying to find out how to be a good artist

I did not figure it out 🗣📢📢📢💥💥 also we're on strike.

❣️_-->Rosie x reader

//

!Content warnings!: nsfw, rosie being rosie (she bites you fr), uhhhhhhhh the usual??? I still don't know how to do content warnings, gender neutral reader because I didn't specify anything, good luck reading my handwriting (every day it becomes less readable and becomes more like a doctor's. I am transforming. I am becoming the doctor.)

Guys if I don't buy the skulls on a string I'm going to die. I need to buy it.

//

//

One may be surprised to find that in my opinion she doesn't hold any regards to who is "topping" or not- little of that matters to her. What really matters is how close you both are- she is all about the intimacy when it comes to this. Talkative all the way through, she will be affectionate with the sweetest words she can offer you. She uh... really doesn't make much of an effort to be understood by you if you are unfamiliar with the 'slang' she tends to use- you can ask about it later, after she is done with you.

Another thing she does, something much more predictable: is that she tends to bite you. There are no intentions of hurting you when she leans into your body and digs her teeth into your skin, it goes without saying that you will of course bleed, and, afterwards she earnestly and truthfully showers you in apologies for harming you! it's just.. your taste is truly intoxicating to her- you need to understand! She has said it herself in the unfiltered delirious state you both get to: she'd most definetly eat you, you tasting so perfect the way you do- if she wouldn't miss you so much if she did. Your company brightens her days, makes every little moment worth it, she wouldn't be capable of existing in a world without you now; sometimes she wonders how she made it so far without you to begin with.

Any compliments you may give her are met with shy looks to the side and comments for you to "oh stop it- you're much too sweet..", being truly invitations to get you to do it further.

//

Stupid little edit I made of her with the creative liberties I took :-]

@bigfatbimbo as usual

Somehow despite typing with numbers between my words to shorten everything I still manage to not sound completly unhinged and like a severely brainrot infected individual

Moral of the story is: delete tiktok

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel rosie #rosie x reader #hazbin hotel rosie x reader #uhhhhhhh hh h h h h ... .. . . yeah🫡 that's all the tags???? #🎀 anon＼(^^)／

[ravencincaide]

Hi Raven.

Do you think It's okay to give your own opinion about a story of a fanfiction, even if it isn't just compliments?

Like I wanted to suggest to a writer here on tumblr to fix a thing on their story, so that it could be more readable, but I don't want to come off as rude.

I mean, I know what constructive criticism is but... yeah. My question still stands

Hi anon! What a good question. Love these types of asks! The short answer is it depends on the writer, it depends on the story and it depends on your comment. Let me exemplify what I mean below. First, there's a huge difference between an established writer, who is semi active, engages with comments on their stories and encourages discussions and feedback, in contrast with writers who are just starting out. OR writers who are publishing without looking at comments because they are just happy to share without caring about feedback. OR writers who are getting back into it after years of NOT writing. They are aware that they aren't at their best but still fucking trying and with time will get better and figure it out. In the later cases a critique wouldn't achieve much, be a waste of both your times and could actually do more harm than good. Second it depends on the story; for example if the writer says 'warning lowercase writing' and you point out that it's written in lowercase then it kinda doesn't do much but cause frustration. Similarly if you point out on my writing that 'hey you have a lot of simple errors that you'd catch with a re-read or a beta' when I've clearly said that I don't do heavy editing at the moment because I'm working on combating perfectionism and focus on getting stuff out then once again said comment wouldn't really achieve much. There are so many more examples when a critique will just not achieve much- if anything. So please be mindful of that and attentive to what the writer says. Finally it depends on your comment, how you write it and why. Saying something like ' your character is sooo OC get a better read on X, Y, Z' is just rude and will disregard the writers interpretation of the characters, story and creative liberty. OR 'Your twist sucks/ you overuse it/ its predictable cuz of this- this and that' doesn't do much but put the writer down, makes them tempted to quit or block you. So the question becomes are you critiquing to help or to show your own frustration at the way they write their story? Critique is valuable to a writer; it helps us improve. It gives us things to consider and be aware off. It can also push us down a peg when we get too cocky. BUT this type of feedback should be written with care. If you give a writer critique on tumblr, keep in mind that they most likely produce this content for free, at their own time, for their own enjoyment and decide to share it with you out of the goodness of their own heart. Therefore the critique should be written with care and due diligence; write it in the way You yourself would want to receive it. Be kind, polite and humble. We're all human, we're all trying to do our best and to improve. Please remember that. After saying all that, l am honestly a person who often encourages feedback and gives feedback back, following the model of 'two stars and a wish'. So that it's not JUST negative but a combination of both. That way its easier to write it, often its better received and creates a better atmosphere all around. Best of luck <3

Hope this helps ~ Raven

#raven cincaide #raven cincaide asks #raven cincaide's ask #writing #fanfiction feedback #be kind #empathy #critique

[manuscripts-dontburn]

The Morning Gift

Author: Eva Ibbotson

First published: 1993

Rating:  ★★★★☆

I adored this story! A romance born on the eve of WW2, that holds the foreboding but still shows you that people still lived their lives and had their hopes. I was happy to note that for once the main female character of Ibbotson´s is not a sheer perfection (this girl has actually some issues to go through), though I admit I could still do without the comically evil rival (it would have been so much more interesting if there actually at least appeared a possibility the other girl might succeed). But all in all, especially because of the last third of the book, I thought this was a well-crafted romance with some, perhaps cheesy, but well-used tropes. Just, for the love of god, DO NOT listen to this as an audiobook recorded by Kate Lock, who insisted on using a fake German accent and squeaky voice for the main character, making her sound like a stupid child of 10. (And that is not the only horrible thing she does to the selected characters).

Jane, the Fox & Me

Author: Fanny Britt

First published: 2012

Rating: ★★★★☆

A beautifully executed graphic novel in which the story somewhat fizzles out and feels unfinished, definitely could have been longer and yet I rate it quite high simply because it hit me like a train. I was not a fat kid but all my life I felt I was, even if in my case there was no bullying. I felt this little girl´s pain deeply.

The Witches: Salem, 1692

Author: Stacy Schiff

First published: 2015

Rating: ★★★☆☆

I think Stacy Schiff is an excellent historian and has an extremely readable style of writing. I also think she has done a stupendous job putting this mammoth project together, but I need to agree with those who complain about the density and slowness of the text. It is next to impossible to keep track of the names and the accusations/descriptions of the alleged witchcraft are so similar (or completely the same) that it is very taxing to keep up. I am not sure whether I should be complaining though, because, after all, I DID want a book about these events and I got it. I would recommend an audiobook though, makes it easier to get through.

The Clockmaker's Daughter

Author: Kate Morton

First published: 2018

Rating: ★★★★☆

This is a story of a house and people connected to it in an intriguing web of connections. It spans from the 1860s to the modern day, not always in chronological order, and I must say that Kate Morton managed to jump through the timelines quite effortlessly. There is a great number of characters but I had no problems following who was who, though admittedly some of the timelines were less interesting than the others (notably and predictably for me I enjoyed the modern one the least). I also had trouble when some things, already revealed to the reader, were "revealed" again. The main voice is that of a ghost (trust me, this is not a spoiler), and while I did not mind it, I also believe the book would have been stronger had that been completely committed and we only got to know that particular character from the other stories it touches. Even after all that I have to say I was surprised at how easy this was to read (it IS a chunker) and how much I enjoyed it.

A Face Like Glass

Author: Frances Hardinge

First published: 2012

Rating: ★★★☆☆

I adore the fact that Frances Hardinge does not talk down to children, because this is undeniably a middle-grade book, but does not shy from some pretty heavy stuff. However perhaps I have read too much Frances Hardinge at this point because I tend to really like/be intrigued by the start of her books, her world-building and her unique ideas, but then it all became too much with this one and I was impatient for the story to be over.

Brigid of Kildare

Author: Heather Terrell

First published: 2009

Rating: ★★☆☆☆

I am sad to report that this book was kind of a mess. The historical bits would have been just fine on their own, even if I had wanted a little more depth, many a time I felt like we were merely dipping our toes into the fascinating story of Brigid. But then the author decided to weave in a "mystery" set in modern times and those chapters, apart from being unnecessary to the story, felt just tedious to the point I was considering skipping them altogether. A bummer.

When Women Were Dragons

Author: Kelly Barnhill

First published: 2022

Rating: ★★★☆☆

As long as it was a family tragedy infused with the elusive and unexplained, I was enjoying this book quite a lot. But then, in its second half, it becomes too wordy, too idealistic, too uninteresting.

The Silent Unseen

Author: Amanda McCrina

First published: 2022

Rating: ★★☆☆☆

The good thing: the topic, even if you have read loads of WW2 books, is an unusual one. The bad thing: the story is extremely weak (walking and talking do not an intriguing narrative make), the characters shallow, the motivations extremely basic, the romance needless and not particularly well done. No matter how many betrayals posing as shocking twists you cram into the last third, you cannot make me invested in this.

Charlotte's Web

Author: E.B.White

First published: 1952

Rating: ★★★★☆

As a non-UK and non-US child, I have never read this book when I was its target audience. I picked it up now more for the super cute edition than anything else. And indeed throughout I kept thinking: sure, it´s cute. But is it that great? And then I got kicked in the guts by that friggin ending.

Emily Wilde's Map of the Otherlands

Author: Heather Fawcett

First published: 2024

Rating: ★★★★★

Just as enjoyable and delightful as the first volume! I love the tone, the language, and the romance (I am SHIPPING Emily and Wendell so hard), it can be both touching and humorous at the same time. Cannot wait for the conclusion of this series which so far I find to be one of the most joyous literary events in years.

The Great Mortality: An Intimate History of the Black Death, the Most Devastating Plague of All Time

Author: John Kelly

First published: 2005

Rating: ★★★★☆

The Black Death epidemic of the 14th century remains one of the most gruesomely fascinating events in European history and I dare say this book is a very accessible, informative and well-organized study of it. It is strictly chronological, leading you in the steps of the disease, and adding stories and explanations that make it all less clinical and more humanly tragic. Just perhaps the ending sounds way too much like "but in the end it was a good thing" felt like a very, very weird conclusion.

Psyche and Eros

Author: Luna McNamara

First published: 2023

Rating: ★★☆☆☆

I finished this book out of spite more than anything else. The myth of Psyche and Reos may just be my favourite of all the Greek myths, unfortunately instead of crafting it into something fresh and memorable Luna McNamara tried her hand at mixing every Greek myth you have ever heard of and made Psyche insufferable during the process for good measure. It is not even subtle mixing, instead, she goes full Marvel Universe of Greek gods on you, twisting the story to incredible lengths just to cram more of the mythology into her book. I would also say that the original myth takes quite a beating in this reimagining, being stripped of much that made it so appealing to me as a reader. Sometimes less is more.

A Middle-Earth Traveller: Sketches from Bag End to Mordor

Author: John Howe

First published: 2018

Rating: ★★★★★

Beautifully executed "sketchbook". It would seem that while Alan Lee was more concerned with the Elven stuff, John Howe focused on Dwarves, Orcs and the more gritty parts we saw in the movies. There are, however, also illustrations from the Silmarillion included. I would imagine this is a perfect book to take with you outside, where you can sit under a tree and just leaf through, dreaming of Middle-Earth.

#booklr #wrap up #March 2024

[dreamofbecoming]

pale shadows of forgotten names

so people seem to be enjoying my writing lately, and i realized i never properly posted my first witcher fic on here when i first wrote it- i posted a link to the ao3, but i wasn’t super active in the fandom yet and i didn’t make it readable on tumblr. so i thought i would share it here now, in case anyone is interested, and because it’s nice to have all my writing together in my tag on here

pls note i knew even less about the non-netflix canon then than i do now, so everything about spying is just made up lmao

ao3

geraskier, post-s2, getting together

rating: t

wc: 13k

“Might be best if I stay out of Redania for a while, actually.”

“If you get arrested, I’ll just break you out again. There’s a book there I need, the copy in Kaer Morhen’s library was destroyed. Vesemir said he knew someone in Oxenfurt who might be able to get his hands on one.” Geralt’s tone, as usual, leaves very little room for argument. Luckily, Jaskier has never needed much room when it comes to arguing. Certainly not with Geralt.

“It’s not just that, I really shouldn’t get close to Tretogor anytime soon, either. Especially with Ciri being hunted by half the Continent.” He’s hoping desperately that they won’t ask why, but who is he kidding. His luck is never that good.

“And why, exactly, is Tretogor a problem? Not that we would want to parade around a capital city regardless, but I’m curious. Oxenfurt I get, they’ll be looking for the Sandpiper, I’m sure, or at least the twit that broke out of their jail, but what’s in Tretogor?”

Damn the fucking witch, always too perceptive for her own good. And to think he was almost starting to like her. Well, at least the familiarity of wanting to claw her eyes out is comforting.

Jaskier sighs. He should probably be honest with them if they’re going to travel together, though who knows how long that state of affairs will last this time. Still, he’s not going to risk Ciri. He’d have kept his silence if it were just Geralt and the witch- he already has, in fact, and it worked for nearly 20 years, after all- but Ciri is precious cargo. The rules have changed.

Plus, Yen could probably just read his mind now that she has her magic back. Fucking sorceresses.

Speaking of, “Alright, but not here,” he sighs. “Wait until we make camp and Yen can set up wards or silencing spells or something.” He hasn’t noticed any white owls following them, but she’s always been good at avoiding being seen. That’s sort of the point, he supposes.

“Who do we need wards from, Jaskier? Are you being followed? Should I have left you behind? Did I put Ciri in danger by trusting you?” Geralt’s voice is hard, and Jaskier feels hurt pool in his belly for a moment before cold anger takes its place again.

“Considering I just traipsed halfway across the continent and back, no questions asked, and nearly died trying to help stop a fucking demon from killing her, what the fuck do you think, Geralt? I’ll remind you that only one of us has known and loved her since she was small. Do you really believe I would do that to her? To you?” And maybe that last bit wasn’t really meant to come out, certainly not in that small, sad little voice, but Jaskier is nothing if not a master of pushing through slip ups and missed lines. He’s a goddamn professional. He doesn’t let his expression change where he’s glaring up at Geralt’s stupid, angry, handsome face. Fucker.

He’s traveled with Geralt a long time. Almost a quarter century, on and off (including this last year, which was most decidedly off), more than half of that physically by his side. He knows the Witcher’s face better than he knows his own, and he can predict Geralt’s reaction in almost any scenario you care to name. A perceived threat met with scorn will make him double down on his anger, almost guaranteed. Jaskier knew this going in, but he didn’t spend half a year belting his rage and betrayal to every student and passing traveler in a hundred miles (not to even mention the whole ‘living through a massacre’ thing) to be cowed by Geralt’s glower now, no matter how distressingly sexy it may or may not still be. Or how it maybe still makes his stomach twist with something sick and anxious at the idea of having disappointed him. Again. Fuck that. Geralt has no right to be disappointed in him, not this time.

So naturally he’s a little shocked when, after a few more seconds of unreasonably attractive scowling, Geralt, improbably, backs down.

He heaves a sigh where’s he’s perched on (new) Roach, a sleeping Ciri safely ensconced in his arms on the saddle in front of him. His eyes fall shut for a moment, and when they open, the cold fury is gone, replaced with something that looks a lot like…regret? Sadness? It’s hard to tell in the dark, but regardless, the air of melancholy around him right now is out of character for this particular situation, and extremely disconcerting. Jaskier is definitely disconcerted.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Jaskier. I do trust you. There’s a cave not far from here, it shouldn’t be too hard to secure. We can make camp soon.”

Was that…an apology? An actual, genuine expression of remorse, unprompted and freely given? He pokes Geralt’s upsettingly firm calf, staring incredulously.

“Are you really Geralt? Do I need to check you with silver or something? Yen, read his mind. Is he some kind of Doppler? Is this actually our Witcher?”

Geralt’s face is flatly unamused, and he kicks out to swat Jaskier’s hand away. Luckily, Jaskier has decades of practice avoiding Witcher speed for annoyance purposes, and pulls his hand back before Geralt can accidentally break his fingers or something. At least, he thinks it would be accidental. Probably.

Atop her borrowed mare, curtesy of Kaer Morhen’s surprisingly impressive herd, Yen raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Geralt’s obvious irritation. “It’s a fair question, Geralt. Immediate, unsolicited apologies for bad behavior are not exactly your brand.” Jaskier is grudgingly impressed that she manages to keep the arch look on her face despite his current frigid distance from her. Apparently they’re not back to mutual teasing levels of familiarity yet, though he’s sure it will only be a matter of time before they’re back to forgetting he’s there mid-sentence to go fuck like stupidly attractive, scary, powerful rabbits. Won’t that be fun to live through again.

Geralt glares harder. Jaskier can’t actually see his face well enough to be sure, but he can always feel when Geralt is glaring, and the angry face quotient in the air definitely goes up a few degrees.

“Cave’s just up here. Jaskier, start setting up camp. Yen, wards. I’ll get Ciri and the horses settled and find something for supper.” He nudges Roach’s flanks and pulls ahead, aiming for a little gap in the trees near a rocky outcropping Jaskier can just barely make out in the scant moonlight. Conversation over then, at least for now.

Yen looks vaguely affronted. “Is it always like this? Traveling with him?”

“What, the glowering? Or the barked orders and being left behind?” If perhaps those words are a touch more bitter than they would have been a year and a half ago, well. That’s no one’s business but his own.

“Both, I suppose? The time I’ve spent with him has rarely been on the road, but he’s never been quite so…demanding. We didn’t exactly do much talking on the way to Kaer Morhen. I’m quite sure he would happily have killed me, or at least have been actively trying to shake me and leave me in the dust, if he hadn’t been so focused on getting to Ciri as quickly as possible.” There’s something brittle and harsh in her tone that feels uncomfortably familiar. It’s far too much like the heavy weight in his ribcage these days, sharp-edged and desperate and miserable.

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!” The hurt and dread freezing his blood in his veins, ice cold and inexorable. The awful silence, waiting for him to take it back, to laugh, to say it was all a horrible joke, or even a dream. The yawning pit of heartbreak and despair that started to rend his chest open, as the reality set in that this was actually it, actually the end, after everything-

Nope. No. Absolutely not. He is done with that, thank you. He is quite finished reliving that moment again and again (and again), he has put it behind him, he is a different man now. A stronger man. A man who won’t betray the loyalty he promised so long ago, but who refuses to let his heart back into the mix this time. He wrote a song about it and everything.

Funny how he almost believes it.

“Oh, I’m sure he was always far more…solicitous with you, darling. This is pretty much standard. The apology is new, and I’m a little surprised he’s letting me set up camp unsupervised,” (this is said with an impressively deep eye-roll, of course), “but besides that, yeah.”

He should be offended that he’s surprised to be given that responsibility, probably. He’s actually a remarkably competent traveler, both with company and without, but even towards the end it rarely occurred to Geralt that Jaskier managed to survive by himself for months or years at a time, or that the camp ended up much the same as it started even when he felt the need to redo all of Jaskier’s work, or that he wasn’t the one cooking the food he hunted or patching his own wounds when Jaskier was around. Not even the handful of times their camp was targeted by bandits, and several of them were already dead by the time Geralt got to them, seemed to register. Or all the times he came back addled and injured from a hunt, and Jaskier knew exactly which potions he needed to recover, and where to find them. Jaskier isn’t sure the great White Wolf ever even noticed a difference. He’s once again a little amazed that it took him so long to see it, that those furious words on the mountaintop actually managed to catch him by surprise. Love really is blind, he supposes.

The cave isn’t huge, but there’s enough room for four bedrolls and a small fire pit without having to snuggle up too close to each other, and it’s dry and lacking in horrid smells or angry monsters, so Jaskier has definitely seen worse.

Roach is tied near the cave entrance, under a small overhang jutting out from the rock to provide her some shelter from the elements. He wants to ask what happened to the old Roach, his- well. Not his Roach anymore, he supposes, not for a while, but he was still fond of her. It had taken years to win her over, but they were good friends by the end, he thought. Certainly she was freer with her affection than her rider. (Which, he realizes now, probably had more to do with his dearth of affection actually available than with his crushing emotional incompetence.) It isn’t really his place to ask, not anymore, but he wishes he could. New Roach is fine, she’s admittedly beautiful and probably a lovely animal, but he misses his friend.

Jaskier has the camp fully set up and a small fire going, near enough to the entrance not to fill the cave with smoke, but far enough inside so as not to be easily seen, and Yen has left her mount next to Roach, filled their waterskins, and is finishing up with the last of the wards shielding them from being found or overheard, when Geralt returns bearing…an entire deer. Fucking overachieving cockhead. He’s cleaning that shit himself, Jaskier isn’t interested. It definitely isn’t sexy seeing Geralt stride in, slightly blood-spattered, biceps bulging, thighs flexing, evidence of his prowess slung easily over his shoulders like a king’s mantle…nope. Not sexy at all. Jaskier isn’t even looking. He certainly isn’t biting back an embarrassing whimper.

He turns around hastily to begin rummaging through his pack for his spices and cooking supplies, filched from Kaer Morhen, of course, since all he had on him when Geralt found him in Oxenfurt was his charm and good looks. He wishes he had his lute, but it’s probably in pieces, rotting in a rubbish heap in Redania. He’ll mourn her at some point. Besides, he’s not sure he would be able to stop himself playing Burn, Butcher, Burn just on reflex, so it’s probably for the best.

They eat a decent supper of venison stew, Ciri waking just long enough to scarf down a bowl and collapse back onto her bedroll. Demon possession and Sphere-jumping really seem to take it out of a person.

Yen tosses another silencing charm around Ciri’s bedroll (they’ll fill her in tomorrow- they don’t intend to keep secrets from her but she deserves her sleep) and Geralt gets to work packing the leftover venison in salt for the road, before they both look up at him expectantly with eerily similar, piercing gazes. Violet and gold, a royal combination if ever there was one. Oh, that’s nice actually, there’s a song in there somewhere. Not one he wants to sing, really, but he’ll probably end up writing it at some point anyway.

“Alright, sharing time, I guess. Always figured this was coming eventually. Not that I imagined anything like this, what with the demons and the horrible rock monsters and the dimension hopping and- yes, yes, alright, I’m getting to it. Calm down.” He heaves a sigh. Hopefully they don’t toss him out on his arse after this, or just kill him. He doesn’t think they’d kill him. Would they? No, they wouldn’t. Probably.

“So you know I’m technically Redanian.” Yennefer nods expectantly while Geralt just. Blinks at him. Fucking gods, honestly. “Wow, ok, you really never paid attention at all when I talked, huh? That makes sense, actually. I guess I should have figured that.” He’s staring into the fire to shield the hurt in his eyes, so he misses the matching look on Geralt’s face before he presses on.

“Anyway, yeah, I’m Redanian, from Kerack, Lettenhove to be specific. Seriously? I’ve introduced myself to a dozen people in front of you with my full name, you really never- ok, yeah, right, never mind. Moving on. Julian Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. That’s me. Or, it was. Technically it still is, but I never wanted the title. I never wanted that life. I left for Oxenfurt as soon as I was old enough, and when I graduated I went on the road, and then. Well. Then I met you, and, well, you know. You were there. For the rest. Some of it, anyway. Right. Well, Vizimir, or more likely someone on his council, since Vizimir is about as savvy and creative as a garden slug, and almost as charming, and I’m not sure if Dijkstra was advising him at that point-“ He catches Yennefer’s sharp look at Dijkstra’s name, but barrels on, “-anyway, someone noticed that a minor Redanian noble was doing a lot of very visible traveling all over the Continent and associating with a lot of people the Crown wouldn’t normally have an in with, and figured that would be useful. I think at this point, we’d been traveling together…2? 3 years? Something like that. Long enough that I’d started building a name for myself, definitely. Or, for us, I suppose. That’s why they noticed me in the first place.”

He knows he’s babbling, but there are nerves roiling in his gut like a cauldron, and that feeling has always translated into more words, for him. Like a pressure valve. He pauses and risks a glance at the person whose reaction he’s genuinely worried about.

Yen will understand, she’s been in and out of courts and noble circles and political tangles for decades, she knows how this works. She probably won’t trust him, but he’s fairly sure she doesn’t trust him now, so that’s no great loss. He doesn’t trust her either.

Geralt has a more…rigid concept of morality. In Geralt’s world, there are Right Things and Wrong Things. Sometimes you have to do Wrong Things to prevent Wronger Things, but that doesn’t make them not Wrong. And anything to do with kings and courts is usually Wrong. There’s a good chance Geralt might never forgive him for this, or if he does, he won’t be able to look past Jaskier keeping it from him so long.

Geralt’s eyes are fixed on his face, sharp and intent, and utterly unreadable. Jaskier thought he had gotten pretty good over the years at reading the subtle shifts in Geralt’s expressions- the tiny crinkles around his eyes when he wanted to laugh, the minute furrow between his brows when he was confused, the slight tick in his jaw when he was frustrated- but his face is as blank as new parchment right now, nothing but the glint in his golden eyes that says he’s listening to every word out of Jaskier’s mouth.

What a time for him to start doing that, he thinks bitterly. Decades of tuning him out when he thought they were friends, and now that Jaskier might be driving him away for good (again, a tiny voice whispers viciously), he’s hanging on every syllable.

“I was approached by a member of the royal intelligence service, and told that the king had ordered that I be recruited as a spy. Technically I am still nobility, and as such I’m obligated to obey the crown. And while I would gladly give up all the trappings of my title and never be anyone but Jaskier the bard ever again, at the time there would have been serious consequences for refusing, and not the kind that would fall on me. I’m technically a Lord, and I do have people I’m responsible for. I left people in charge that I trust to take care of them in my stead, but it’s my name they’re working under. And if I refused a direct order from Vizimir, I wouldn’t be the one to suffer for it. It wasn’t an option.”

He doesn’t look up from the fire. He doesn’t want to see the expressions on their faces, so he presses on, heart thumping wildly in his chest.

“I did my best to keep my reports…not vague, exactly, but mostly useless, I guess? Obviously I have no interest in being a part of whatever bullshit Vizimir or any other king feels like stirring up, but I had to send them something. Little stuff, mostly, frivolous gossip from the taverns I played in, details of drama and rivalries I picked up in various courts or nobles’ beds. Sometimes accounts of monster populations or incidents if there was anything especially notable, since they knew that’s a lot of what I was doing with my time. Nothing actionable, but useful enough that I couldn’t be accused of shirking my duties.” He’s suddenly struck with an awful fear, and he looks up desperately into slitted golden eyes. “I never said a word about Ciri, Geralt, you have to believe me. I told them about that night, and I had to mention that Pavetta had magic because there’s no way that wouldn’t get out some other way, but I never said a word about a Witcher claiming a Child Surprise. I would never risk her like that, or you, you have to believe me. Please say you believe me Geralt, whatever you think of me, that I would never betray you like that. Please.”

He knows he sounds frantic, that he must look insane, that he can’t stop his begging mouth like a runaway cart, but the thought of Geralt thinking even for a second that Jaskier would ever put orders from a king he cared nothing for over Geralt’s own life, over the life of a child, is a knife in his gut, twisting and pulling until Jaskier thinks he might vomit if Geralt doesn’t say something.

The blank expression is gone, and Geralt looks somewhat taken aback. His brow furrows a little in what looks like confusion, before settling into resignation, or maybe chagrin. Jaskier thinks for a moment that he sees a brief flash of what almost looks like…grief? That can’t be right…in his eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it appeared, and Jaskier thinks he must have imagined it.

Geralt takes a swig from his waterskin and draws in a deep breath before speaking.

“I wasn’t worried that you betrayed Ciri, Jaskier. I know you would cut off your own arm before you did something like that. I don’t love where it sounds like this story is going, but I promise, I’ll never be concerned about that.”

That’s…well, those are more words than he was expecting, surely. And different words than he was expecting, too. He would assume that Geralt is placating him, to calm him down and get him to finish talking, but he can hear the sincerity in his voice. Geralt’s eyes are almost imploring, as if he’s as anxious for Jaskier to believe him as Jaskier had been to be believed. He…isn’t sure what to do with that, actually.

He knows Geralt came back for him, knows he was at least not lying when he said he missed him (though how much is anyone’s guess), knows he trusts him to travel with his…his little family, to help keep them safe or at least not make things worse, but he never assumed it went beyond that.

Geralt was clear, on that mountain. Even if he’s sorry now, even if he missed having him around, he meant those words at the time, and Jaskier has no illusions that he won’t get to that point again. Geralt may have spat those words in helpless anger, may have turned his ire on someone who had nothing to do with the state he was in at that moment, but Geralt doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. He says plenty of things he regrets, but he always means them at the time. He did, at one point, believe Jaskier to be a curse and a burden, and Jaskier is fully aware that he will come to that belief again, eventually.

He knows what that particular heartbreak feels like, now. He knows he can survive it, even if he wishes he wouldn’t, sometimes. Mostly, he knows that it will always, always be worth it. Geralt will always be worth it.

Gods but he’s a lovesick fool.

But now, instead of cold distain, or fiery wrath, or, worst of all, blank indifference, Geralt is looking at him like…like he’s sorry. Like he’s desperate for Jaskier’s forgiveness. Forgiveness for what? Jaskier is the one who hid the fact that he was a spy for most of their relatio- friendship. Acquaintanceship. Association. Whichever one wouldn’t piss Geralt off. Geralt hasn’t fucked up here, this time at least.

But he could never resist when Geralt asked him like this for anything, with genuine emotion instead grunted contempt, with even the vaguest hint of affection, like maybe Geralt enjoyed spending time with Jaskier, too. Like maybe Jaskier mattered to Geralt, at least a fraction of how much Geralt mattered to Jaskier. Gods above, he’s so weak for this man.

“Ok. Alright, good. That’s good. I’m glad. Thank you. I know I- anyway. Thank you. Right, where was I? Yes, ok, reports. So I kept myself mostly useless for pretty much the whole time we were together. I mean- not. Not together, obviously, but traveling together. As friends. Or not friends. Whatever. What was I saying?” He’s spiraling, fuck, he’s spiraling, he needs to get out of this, how does he get out of this?

Geralt is looking even more confused than before, but Yennefer is definitely laughing at him in her head. Witch. Like she isn’t just as much of a mess for him. She should be on his side! They bonded over this already and everything!

At least the indignation is enough for him to pull out of the whirlpool of awkward babble and self-sabotage he was trapped in, and he manages to right himself.

“Anyway! Ok! So! Right, well, things changed not quite a year ago, now, after the raid on Bleobheris.” He sobers at the memories, the scent of blood and the sound of screams suddenly heavy in the dry air of the cave. “It was…brutal. I’ve never seen anything like that, not in all my years Witchering with you. I wanted to help. I needed to do something, to…fix something. Anything, no matter how small. That’s when I was contacted by an anonymous benefactor, who offered to fund an effort to smuggle refugees to Xin’Trea. Word had spread about Nilfgaard’s alliance with the elves, that they could be safe there.”

“So the Sandpiper was born,” Yennefer says.

“Right. But I don’t like not knowing where my help is coming from and why. I may not have been a very useful spy in Redania’s eyes for the last 20 years, but it actually takes quite a bit of effort to be ineffective without being useless enough to fire or kill, and as it turns out, I’m actually quite good at it. Call it the performer’s heart in me, or something. So I was able to ferret out that the man behind the money was Sigismund Dijkstra, who had managed to get himself appointed spymaster to Vizimir, which, interestingly, made him my employer, as well as my benefactor.”

Yen looks up sharply again at Dijkstra’s name. Jaskier turns to her, curious.

“You’re familiar, I assume?”

“He’s been causing rifts at Aretuza, riling up the Brotherhood,” she says, brow furrowed. “Pretending to bring counsel and information but really just sowing discord. I’m not clear on the details, but I know elves were mentioned. There are those on the council who take issue with my heritage, so I try to keep on top of the rumors. I wasn’t at Aretuza for long, though, and I…didn’t exactly leave on good terms. I haven’t got many friends left there.” Geralt glances at her sympathetically.

Jaskier nods. “That sounds like him. I wouldn’t trust that man to clean my privy, much less provide thousands of crowns, probably from Vizimir’s coffers, for a worthy cause with no expectations of repayment.” He shakes his head. “I kept my suspicions to myself, though, the network needed the coin and regardless of his motivations, we really were helping people. I wasn’t going to let that go to waste.

“I guess, with me finally settling in one place for so long, and probably Dijkstra feeling like I owed him for the funding, even though I wasn’t meant to know it was him, they started expecting more from me, in terms of intelligence. I didn’t really have a choice, since now they always knew where to find me if they wanted to cause me problems, and besides, Dijkstra was already privy to the network’s efforts anyway as the main benefactor, so I figured it was mostly alright that I’ve had to give more…comprehensive reports to Vizimir the last several months.

“Since Cintra fell, most people know about Ciri, or at least that she’s on the game-board somehow. There are rumors of Nilfgaard searching for a Witcher, so I’m sure some people have put together that you’re involved somehow, but I don’t think too many of the courts, at least, have details. Just that Nilfgaard wants her and maybe there’s a Witcher involved. I made sure not to include too much information that they didn’t already have, but I can’t say for sure what every Northern king knows, or what the Brotherhood knows.” He glances at Yen, who shakes her head and shrugs.

“Anyway, so that’s the meat of it. The concern is that since I became an actual useful asset for them, they’ve been keeping a much closer eye on me. That’s why I was worried about the wards.”

“Alright, I can understand all of that,” Geralt cuts in. “I don’t like that you kept it from me, but I can’t fault your choices. You’re right that we can’t have them sniffing around you, not with Ciri in your orbit.” He frowns. “Would it be possible for you just…fall off the map? Disappear? Redania can’t demand anything from a missing viscount.”

Jaskier winces a little. “I would love to do that, the problem being that Dijkstra works closely with Tretogor’s court mage, who has the charming little talent of transforming into a bird whenever she wants.”

Yen’s eyebrows both go up this time. “Phillipa? She’s quite impressive. A little too entrenched in political intrigue for my taste, but I can’t deny she’s talented. Tissaia speaks very highly of her, certainly.”

She looks thoughtful as she gazes at him over the fire. “You’re worried she’s following you, then? For information on Geralt, since everyone knows Jaskier the Bard is the man to talk to if you want to know about Witchers.”

Her tone is…teasing? Is she teasing him? First hugging, and now teasing? Yeah, he’s not dealing with that right now. He sticks out his tongue at her (he does still have a bantering streak to uphold, after all) before nodding.

“I don’t know for sure  if she was in Oxenfurt when Geralt broke me out. I don’t think so, but I certainly wasn’t combing every tree for owls, and there’s no chance of me noticing her out here in the woods. I’m just hoping that if she were around now, you’d sense her, Yen, and that she wasn’t able to bring back anything about Ciri or Geralt or Kaer Morhen to Dijkstra. Or you, either, since the Brotherhood are so unhappy with you.”

Yen looks surprised and very slightly pleased to be included in Jaskier’s concern. Or at least Jaskier thinks that’s the expression he can parse under her normal very scary murder face, which he finds is almost a relief to see. The soft regret and concern of recent weeks has been…unsettling. The sun rises, the rain falls, Yennefer of Vengerberg is gorgeous, aloof, and terrifying. This is the natural order.

Geralt is wearing a pensive expression, frowning slightly at where Ciri lies, sleeping peacefully. Dear girl, Jaskier hopes she isn’t having any nightmares. She’s been through hell lately, and she’s always had trouble sleeping anyway. Jaskier wonders if he can find the name of that tea Mousesack used to give her to help her sleep. Jaskier even tried it once or twice, when winter nights in Cintra without his Witcher’s soft, even breaths became too much; the stuff worked wonders.

“Alright,” he says eventually, nodding. “I’ll see if I can go to Redania myself, and leave you two with Ciri until I can get back. We’ll keep our campsites warded if we can, Yen, I don’t want you to wear yourself out, but some protection would probably be best. Are you able to see if you can sense anyone from here, or do you need to go outside the wards?”

“I’ll do a lap around the area, but there’s a chance anyone who is out there will sense me as soon as I start casting about. It would be best if you all stayed here, to protect Ciri in case someone actually has come for her.”

“I don’t like any of us going out alone, Yen, especially with the express intention of seeking out danger. I should go with you.” Geralt makes to stand and grab his swords from beside his seat, but Yennefer waves him back down.

“You’d only distract me, and besides, do you want to leave the totally untrained sorceress and the normal human alone here?” Jaskier makes an affronted squawking noise.

“Hey! I’m plenty competent, thank you!” He prudently ignores the minor inaccuracy of his humanity, and instead huffs at the matching incredulous looks he receives. “Rude. Honestly, I get no respect around here. I survived just fine on my own for years, you know! Besides, I traveled with a reckless idiot Witcher for 20 years, you pick up more than you’d think.” He glares at them both until Yen smirks and Geralt looks baffled and vaguely offended, but at least they both look away, which is an improvement.

Until the two of them end up in a stare off, clearly having some sort of emphatic conversation with their eyes alone, and Jaskier has to turn away to start putting away the cooking supplies they won’t need for breakfast tomorrow. He’s warming up to Yennefer, much to his chagrin, but he’s had quite enough of watching the man he loves eyefuck someone else, for this lifetime and the next, thanks ever so.

He hears Geralt huff, a sound he recognizes as him realizing whoever he’s arguing with is just going to do as they please anyway, and he might as well make the best of it.

He made that sound at Jaskier a lot. Usually when he talked his way into coming along on hunts, but really any time Jaskier wanted something from him beyond some seared rabbit, a fire to sleep beside, and monosyllabic grunts in response to questions (if he was lucky)- a night at an inn, a stop at a local festival, an actual hot bath with herbs and flowers and scented oils. Arms to hold him on especially cold nights, when blankets weren’t enough to warm (mostly) human skin.

Jaskier used to think it was cute. A game, just for the two of them, Jaskier pushing, Geralt pulling, or the other way around, always meeting in the middle (or, more often, closer to Jaskier’s side) with what Jaskier had always assumed was mutual amusement and affection. He knows better now.

There’s the telltale swish of Yennefer’s skirts, a strange popping sensation in his ears, and then the feeling of the wards coming back up behind her.

The silencing spell around Ciri is still up, as far as he knows, and she’s dead to the world besides, so it’s just him and Geralt now.

It isn’t the first time they’ve been alone since Oxenfurt, but it is the first time since Jaskier was invited (by Ciri, it should be noted, not Geralt) to travel with them as a companion, not as backup.

That one still stings, if he’s honest. He held out hope for months that Geralt would come back for him, would seek him out with a stuttered apology (or more likely a silently offered ale and an invitation to come with him to his next hunt).  Maybe at a tavern, or the Seat of Friendship, or even a ball or musical competition where Jaskier was playing. He knows how much Geralt hates getting dressed up, how much it would have meant for him to go to that effort just to see Jaskier.

He imagined seeing him sitting silently in the back of one of his lectures one day, watching the lesson with quiet affection and waiting for him to be finished so they could talk. Imagined hearing the sound of Roach’s hooves coming up behind him on some backroad to nowhere while he strummed his lute in the sunshine.

He imagined a thousand different reunions, a thousand apologies, a thousand ways for them to turn back the clock. (During some of the longer nights, when he was alone in his rooms staring out at the moon through the window, wondering if Geralt was lying on his bedroll in a forest clearing somewhere staring up at the same moon, he imagined a thousand different love confessions. But he has no intention of admitting that to anyone but his own foolish heart. He may be a bard, and a hopeless romantic, but there’s no need to bare all of his weeping wounds, especially when there’s no hope of healing them.)

For all his daydreaming, he never imagined that Geralt would seek him out only when he needed an extra set of hands and all his other options were exhausted. Never imagined he would be not just a tool to be used, but the last resort as well.

He shouldn’t be surprised, after everything, but the knowledge that he was never really anything else to Geralt still aches like a broken rib, flashes of pain shooting through his chest with every inhale.

This is the first time they’ve been alone together without an immediate crisis, without a clearly defined mission beyond the open road, just like it used to be.

Except nothing like it used to be, because how it used to be is gone. It will never be that way again. Geralt burned those memories down, with words as sharp as swords and as destructive as dragon fire.

Jaskier has no fucking idea how to deal with this.

“Jas-“ Geralt cuts off and clears his throat. Jaskier can hear him gulping from his waterskin before trying again. “Jaskier.”

“Yes?” He tries to keep his voice light, but he doesn’t turn around.

“Jaskier, can we. Can we talk? Please?”

It’s the ‘please’ that does it. Geralt so rarely says please. Jaskier may need more than his fingers to count the times he’s heard it directed at him, but he can still remember each one in perfect clarity. Besides, they had more than 20 years together, “more than 10” is still not exactly a stellar ratio.

Jaskier’s resolve breaks (did he ever really have any? Has he ever had any when it comes to this man?) and he turns, schooling his face into something meant to look bright and open. He’s not sure how well it works. “Of course, Geralt. What’s on your mind?”

“I-“ Geralt looks…lost. He looks like he has absolutely no idea how to get where he’s going, and it’s killing him. Jaskier crumbles.

“You’ve already apologized, Geralt, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve forgiven you. You were angry, you needed a target, I was there. It’s behind us.” He looks at the fire, for lack of anything else that isn’t Geralt’s stupid awful gorgeous face, wishing desperately he had his lute. He never felt awkward with his lute. Never rubbed anxious circles around his calluses for lack of anything to do with his hands. Never sat in a silence so painful he wondered if his ears would bleed.

Geralt lets out a breath like he’s trying to remember how. “That’s not. I mean it is. But. I. Fuck.” Jaskier looks up from the fire to see him scrubbing a hand through his hair in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. The adorable fool manages to get his hand tangled in the locks when he forgets about the band holding half of it back from his face.

“Oh for Melitele’s sake- stop moving, you lug, I’ll fix it. You’re going to tear it out in chunks if you keep pulling like that, just hold still, or I’ll have to rewrite all the songs to be about The Bald Wolf instead. Ye gods, Geralt, how did you survive without me? Honestly.” He’s across the cave and kneeling behind Geralt on the other side of the fire before he consciously registers the decision to move. Fucking hells, even his own body is against him.

He has his hands in Geralt’s (soft, silky, gorgeous) hair, untangling it gently from where it’s wound itself tightly around his (scarred, strong, beautiful) fingers. He thinks he hears Geralt’s breath catch, but he’s too distracted trying to keep his own lungs working at all to focus on it.

Once Geralt’s hand is free (and does Geralt seem as reluctant to let go and put his hand back in his lap as Jaskier is to let him?) Jaskier sets to work on the much more finicky task of removing the band without pulling half of Geralt’s hair out with it, which would honestly be a crime against…well, anyone with eyes really. Jaskier may be in love with him, but he’s also seen a truly exorbitant number of beautiful people across the continent, many of them naked, so he thinks he’s fairly qualified when he says that Geralt is one of the most singularly stunning people on the face of the earth, bias or not. Especially now that he seems to be taking better care of his hair than he used to when Jaskier wasn’t around.

Jaskier is actually rather shocked at how well-kept Geralt is. His hair is smooth and soft and clean, and smells like…is that apple blossom? That’s one of Jaskier’s favorite scents. It never fails to make him feel light and warm, like spring sunshine. He uses it in his own hair more often than the other oils he carries.

Back when washing Geralt’s hair for him was an occasional but deeply treasured privilege of his, Jaskier used to use it for him, as well. That Geralt has somehow, for some reason, gotten some of his own to use during their separation…it makes something warm and fragile stir in Jaskier’s chest. Warm and fragile and dangerous. Hope is easily crushed, and when it is, it takes everything else down with it. Jaskier isn’t doing that again. Not so soon.

He finishes detaching the tie as efficiently as he can, and hands it over Geralt’s shoulder before sitting back on his heels and exhaling violently.

“There you are darling, all fixed. Now,-“

“I didn’t.” Geralt interrupts him, whisper quiet but still somehow deafening over the crackling fire.

“What?”

“Survive without you. I didn’t. Or, I guess I should say I did, but that’s all I did.”

Jaskier has, for once, absolutely no idea what to say, so he tries something new, and says nothing. He’s barely even sure he’s breathing, staring at the back of Geralt’s head and all his moonlit hair like he’s staring into the jaws of a barghest as he waits to see if he will continue.

He does, words falling out of him in a rush like a river pouring through a broken dam, desperate in a way Jaskier has never heard him before.

“I knew I’d fucked up, on the mountain. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I knew it. It’s like. It’s like I was a bottle of juice, gone off, going ranker and ranker until the cork flies right out and takes someone’s eye out. I thought I was angry at Borch, at Yen, at Calanthe, at fucking Destiny, at everything. Even you, who hadn’t done one thing wrong. But really it was just me. I was just angry at myself, and there’s. There’s not. There isn’t anywhere for that kind of anger to go. It just builds up and up and up until it explodes, and you with it, and I knew I was going to let it out at someone. And then you were there, and you were trying to help. Like always. You always help. You make everything better, like you were just trying to make me feel better. But I was so angry, and it was all my fault, it was all my stupid selfish choices, the djinn, the wish, Ciri, all of it my fault, and I didn’t deserve to feel better. I didn’t deserve it and I had to make you stop and so. I did. I did it on purpose. I did it because I knew that was the thing to say that would hurt you the most. That would make me a monster like I know I am. Monsters are easy. Easier than mistakes and bad choices. So I made another bad choice and hurt someone else and decided to be a monster.”

There might be tears streaming down Jaskier’s face, but he can’t tell because he can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t hear anything but the rushing in his ears and Geralt’s voice ripping into him with savage, gentle claws.

“Once Yen was gone- It’s hard to think with her around, sometimes. It’s the wish, I think. Everything else gets duller, quieter, a little out of focus. Like in a dream when the only thing you can see clearly is the person you know the dream is about, the person you’re supposed to talk to.” Oh this…this is actually torture. Geralt might actually be killing him because he still can’t fucking breathe and he just keeps talking.

“It’s better now. Maybe it’s Ciri, my Destiny is split between them now so it’s not so overwhelming. Or maybe Ciri is her Destiny too, and now that we’ll always have her, the both of us, the wish doesn’t need to force us to be in love for us to stay nearby. I don’t know. It’s easier now, though. And even easier when you’re here.”

Wait, what? Now Jaskier knows he’s dead, or dying, or hallucinating, or something, because there’s no way that means what he wants it to mean.

“After Yen left, my head started to clear. Things came back into focus. I realized what I’d done, but suddenly I could also see that it wasn’t just what I yelled at you. It was so much more, so much deeper. I had been so awful to you, for so long, and you just. Took it. All of it. Everything I had, all my anger and my fear and my loneliness. You just let me. You always came back. You kept choosing me, even when I was cruel. I was ashamed, but I also thought…” He breaks off with a great shuddering breath, his head hanging.

Jaskier feels a little like he’s floating. Like he can see his body, kneeling there in the dirt behind Geralt, staring at his sculpted shoulderblades with a blind, devastated look on his tear-streaked face. How odd.

Geralt, somehow, impossibly, keeps going. This is more words than Jaskier has heard him say in the last two decades. This is more words than he knew Geralt was capable of saying. Where are all these words coming from?

It’s like all this time, he had been saving these. Stockpiling them, though for what Jaskier can’t begin to guess. A rainy day? An emergency? This? And now the doors of the granary have come loose and the winter stores are flooding the yard and Jaskier thinks he might end up buried alive.

“I thought you’d come back.” Geralt’s voice is thicker, somehow, and oh, gods, is he crying? “I thought you would come back, like before, like always, and it would be ok. And I would try to be better. I would try to be the man you thought I was. And it would be ok. But you-“ He cuts off with another great shuddering breath, and seems to center himself. “You didn’t come back. And that’s when I realized I had finally gone too far.”

Jaskier has been trying to process all of these many, many, many, mostly incomprehensible words, and he’s maybe fallen a little bit behind, because he hears himself cut in with an incredulous “Wait, are you saying that every time you were rude or dismissive to me, it wasn’t just because you don’t know how to conduct yourself in a normal friendship because you’ve never had one, but actually because you knew you were being cruel and you knew you could get away with it because I would always come back?”

Geralt’s head hangs even lower, and Jaskier has to strain to hear his gravelly whispered reply.

“Yes. Maybe not consciously, or in so many words, but yes.”

Jaskier flounders for a moment, wounds he spent the last year trying to close tearing back open even wider than before.

“All this time? You thought so little of me, all this time? I was just a- a- a practice dummy? Something that won’t fight back or feel pain, so you can hit it has hard or as many times as you want?” His voice began at a whisper, to match Geralt’s, but has gotten steadily louder and more tear-filled the more he speaks.

“No, that isn’t-“

“I can’t- I’m not- I need a moment. Please, Geralt I need- Please.” He can’t keep sitting this close to him, feeling his body heat just as warm as the fire he’s blocking Jaskier from, can’t keep listening to his low rumbling voice, like thunder and gravel and home, like a silver sword through the midsection. Not when the pain and the anger and the hope are all bleeding together and he doesn’t know how to feel them properly and he still can’t fucking breathe.

Geralt’s breath hitches, a tiny little wisp of sound, and Jaskier is going to fucking lose it.

“Please, Geralt.” It comes out in a broken whisper, which is more revealing than Jaskier was hoping, but it’s not like he’s managed to hide anything anyway, so it hardly matters.

Geralt nods, back still to Jaskier in front of the fire, and stands smoothly to walk over to a corner near the entrance, where he can see all four bedrolls and the cave mouth clearly. Ready to protect. Always ready to defend. He sinks to his knees and his breathing takes on the familiar cadence of meditation.

Jaskier takes a moment to look at him. At the way his hands are clutched a little tighter on his thighs than they normally would be while he mediates, like he hasn’t managed to purge all the fear from his body the way he has his mind. At the new scars he can see on his forearms and one snaking over his collarbone, scars that Jaskier wasn’t there to bandage and fuss over. At the way his hair spills over his shoulders, still tousled from Jaskier’s fingers. At the single tear track carving a path down one marble cheek.

Jaskier sucks in a breath and turns away before he breaks down and Yen comes back to find him catatonic on the ground.

He ends up standing at the mouth of the cave, stroking New Roach’s neck and petting his hands through her glossy mane gently. Her slow breathing and the familiar warm, earthy smell of horse help ground him, bring him back from that awful frantic-floating feeling, where he was nowhere and trapped all at once.

He chatters to her quietly, just like he did to her predecessor. She, at least, warms up to him much more quickly.

A warm, black nose thumps gently into his chest. “Yes, my love, I know I need to protect my heart. I’m trying! Can’t you see how hard I’m trying?” She nickers softly, more of a puff of breath than a proper sound.

“Well aren’t we feeling smug this evening, sweet thing.” Another thump. “It’s alright darling, I don’t blame you. I think I’m ridiculous, too. I just don’t know how to fix it.” He strokes a hand down her forehead, scritching lightly.

“No, me either. You know what the problem is, don’t you?” She lips at his hair, which he takes as an invitation to continue.

His voice is even quieter now, the barest thread of a whisper, quiet enough that even Geralt might not overhear if he comes out of meditation. “The problem is that I’ve spent all this time coming up with plans and strategies and contingencies for not giving my heart away again, when the truth is I don’t think I ever got it back in the first place.”

He rests his forehead against hers in defeat, tears falling silently again. He’s going to dehydrate at this point, but what does he care when he has a beautiful lady providing him such warm, solid comfort right here?

“I have to say, songbird, this is not what I expected to find when I came back tonight.”

Jaskier does not flail. He is a professional performer, he has immaculate control over his body at all times. And he definitely doesn’t squeak, no bard would ever be caught dead making such an undignified noise unintentionally.

So no, he neither flails nor squeaks, and if New Roach gets very slightly spooked and a lot disgruntled, it was from Yennefer sneaking up out of bloody nowhere like a wraith in the night, and certainly nothing Jaskier did. If either of them say different, they’re lying.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Is this your plan to kill me and make it look like an accident? I’ll tell Ciri, she’ll come after you with her dagger, see if she doesn’t. Ciri likes me. Ciri would avenge me.” He’s  clutching his chest, heartbeat gradually beginning to slow.

New Roach is still giving him a dubious look. That’s rude, this is hardly his fault. It’s Yen she should be grumpy with.

“Well, I was rather hoping that by this point in the evening, you wouldn’t need a miniature Witcherling-sorceress to defend you, since you’d have your big strong Witcher back, but somehow things seem to have gotten worse in my absence. Did he not manage to tell you his real feelings? Bloody Witchers, trust him to be resistant to my recipe, it’s never bloody failed before, if he’s made this worse somehow I’m going to bloody dissect him to figure out where I went wrong-“ She continues muttering darkly while Jaskier stares at her in shock.

His mind is valiantly trying to shake off enough of the lingering fog of tears to pull some of those threads together and figure out what the fuck she’s talking about.

Recipe? Real feelings? Make what worse? Did she…did she dose him with something? Did she put a fucking spell on his Witcher? He might have to have Ciri stab her after all, since he has no illusions about his own abilities to take her in a fight.

“What the fuck are you talking about, witch? What did you give him? What the fuck did you do? I’ll kill you myself you vicious little shrew, see if I don’t!”

She waves a hand dismissively, scoffing at his threats. Admittedly he is not at his best, though in his defense it’s hard to adopt a proper fighting stance when you’ve just spent half an hour kneeling in the dirt while your still-beating heart was slowly diced into bite-sized pieces. Tough on the knees, you know.

“Please, you should be thanking me. It was fucking exhausting, these last few weeks, watching you two throw longing glances back and forth when you think no one’s looking. I’m just trying to help things along.”

“Help- what? What things? Help things along how?” He’s trying very hard to hold onto his righteous anger at her for (possibly?) drugging the man he loves, but she keeps saying things that dredge up that dangerous warm feeling from before, and he’s losing his resolve.

“Nothing sinister, songbird. I’m done with that, I’m on the side of the White Knights now, remember? Have a little faith in me, for Lilit’s sake.” She rolls her eyes, but either he’s getting better at reading her or she’s making an effort to be easier to read, because he can feel the sincerity in her words. “We both know all that nonsense about Witchers not feeling is horseshit, yes?” He nods. Obviously it is, Geralt feels more deeply than anyone he’s ever met. “But I know you also understand how much he struggles to make sense of what he’s feeling, or to make himself heard when he does.”

She’s right about that, too. Jaskier knows the emotions are there, has always known, since the moment he saw Geralt in that tavern in Posada. But he’s watched Geralt get lost in the tangle of feelings inside him so thoroughly that all the words get stuck and nothing comes out. He’s seen it happen hundreds of times. That’s part of why he’s always wanted to badly to sing about him, to tell the world what Geralt can’t, to be the words when he can’t find them.

Yen gestures to the corner where Geralt is still meditating peacefully. “I didn’t do anything to his feelings. Couldn’t if I tried, that’s not really how my magic works, anyway. But I knew there are things he’s been wanting to say, and he’s been suffering for not knowing how. And as antagonistic as we may be, I don’t actually hate you nearly so much these days, and I find myself discomfited by your very obvious pining, as well.” Well, that’s…actually quite sweet. And rather disquieting, if he’s honest.

“So I gave him something to help him articulate himself. It won’t make him say anything he doesn’t want to, won’t force him to reveal any truths against his will or create any feelings that weren’t already there. It just…smooths the way. Untangles all those knots in his head so something coherent can make it out of his mouth. But you two aren’t cuddled up by the fire making me want to vomit, which means it didn’t fucking work, and I have to figure out why!” She looks rather like she would huff and stomp her foot at this, if the great and powerful Yennefer of Vengerberg would ever stoop to something so childish.

Jaskier thinks very hard about the last hour or so of his life. He thinks about Geralt saying “please,” and he thinks about the way all those words fell out of him and just kept coming and coming and coming, like a pot boiling over, piling up in a heap at Jaskier’s feet. He thinks about Geralt crying.

“Well- uh. Hmm. You know, it occurs to me now- it’s funny really, I think you’ll laugh, definitely laugh, not look at me with that petrifying glare you’ve got on right now, no you’ll be laughing I’m quite sure- Alright, yes, ok! Yes! Right, well, um. I think, looking at recent events, fresh eyes and all that you know- I’m just saying, it would have been helpful to have some of this information going in, is all- Ow! Melitele’s tits, that hurt! Do those nails come standard at Aretuza, or were you just born lucky? Ouch! Ok, ok, stop pinching me, witch! Like I was saying, with the benefit of this new information, I think it’s possible your magical intervention whosit thingy may have worked exactly as expected?”

She narrows her eyes. “If it worked, why are you crying to a horse instead of snuggling with your man?” His man. That can’t be right. Can it? Geralt isn’t his. Except. Except for all the things he sounded like he might be gearing up to say when Jaskier cut him off. Fuck.

“I, uh. I maybe. I maybe stopped him partway through and told him I needed a break?” He winces back as her already truly impressive glare intensifies even further- yep, she’s still got it.

“I did not go to all the effort of brewing that fucking potion, tailoring it for Witcher metabolisms, and making it fucking tasteless and odorless so he would drink it, not to mention standing out here in the fucking woods in the middle of the night with nothing to fucking do, just so you could chicken out halfway through getting everything you ever fucking wanted.” Her eyes are glowing violet now, which is. Wow. Scary. She’s so scary. He remembers now why he always thought she was so so scary. She jabs her finger towards the kneeling figure by the wall. “Get the fuck back in there and finish the damn conversation, bard,” she hisses. “I will not deal with this bullshit all the way to the Redanian border.”

She turns to leave again, and Jaskier shoots out a hand to stop her. She looks at his hand on her elbow and he briefly worries he’s going to end the night as a slug of some kind, but she just looks up at him questioningly.

“I just. Fuck. I know- I know this probably wasn’t easy for you. You know I know better than most what you’re feeling right now. But you’re helping anyway, so. Thank you, Yennefer. Even if it doesn’t go like you think, like I hope, you were willing to try even though it hurts, so thank you.” He isn’t sure what his face is doing, but he hopes she can see how genuinely grateful he is.

She smiles a little sadly. “Come on, songbird, We both know he was never really mine. And besides, I’m not the settling down type. Now go, don’t make me curse you.” She shoots him what would be a very passable glare if it weren’t for the slight glimmer of tears in her eyes, then spins on her heel and stalks off into the night.

He turns back to the cave, hesitating for a single moment before there’s an irritated huff, a nip to the sleeve of his jacket, and a frankly unnecessarily forceful shove to his back. He glares back at Roach, who seems unperturbed. “I’ve got entirely too many black-haired gorgeous women trying to run my life right now, do you hear me? Too many!” Roach huffs again. “Fine. I’m going, are you happy?” He takes another step and looks over his shoulder. She looks smug. Of course she does. “I think you’re just the old Roach reincarnated. Never seen another horse look so damn satisfied with herself,” he mutters, but he’s already heading back into the cave, so he figures she’s won this round.

He feels slightly guilty about grabbing Geralt’s waterskin before going to him, but he isn’t sure how long Yen’s potion lasts, or if meditating will have burned more of it off. Maybe it’s disingenuous to give him more without telling him what’s in it, but, weirdly, he trusts Yen when she says it won’t force Geralt to do or say anything he doesn’t want to, and Jaskier isn’t sure he’ll ever get to hear the words otherwise. He’ll tell him afterwards. He won’t keep this secret forever.

He sits down quietly next to Geralt, leaning up against the wall of the cave. He takes one deep breath, then another, and another. He rests his fingers gently on Geralt’s hand where it sits on his thigh. Geralt’s breathing gradually picks up until he’s back to almost his normal, slow rhythm. His eyes open, landing on Jaskier’s hand on his and following the line of his arm back up to his face.

Jaskier hands him the waterskin, and Geralt takes it with a nod of gratitude before taking a long drink. “I’m alright now,” Jaskier says. “I’m sorry I stopped you.

Geralt searches his face, eyes searching Jaskier’s for signs of dishonesty. Apparently finding none, he nods slightly, golden eyes closing again for a moment. When they open, he’s not looking at Jaskier any longer.

Jaskier looks at his hand, fingertips still resting ever so lightly on Geralt’s palm, and considers taking it back. He thinks about what Geralt has told him so far tonight, about the conviction in Yen’s voice when she insisted Geralt had feelings for him. Fuck it, he decides, and lays his hand more firmly in Geralt’s, lacing their fingers together. Geralt draws in a sharp breath and looks up at him in shock, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he grips Jaskier’s hand tighter, like he’s worried Jaskier is going to try to run.

“I know you,” Jaskier says slowly. “I’ve known you for more than half my life, and I know that you aren’t cruel, or callous, or unkind. I know that there is always a reason behind the things you say, and the things you do, even if no one else can see it.” He swallows hard, closing his eyes briefly. Geralt squeezes his hand lightly, which…helps, actually. It helps a lot. “I’m sorry I accused you of hurting me on purpose, for the sake of causing me pain. I was overwhelmed and having trouble processing things, but I shouldn’t have jumped to a conclusion I know wasn’t true. If you still want to talk, I’m ready to listen now.”

“It wasn’t an illogical conclusion to draw. And it wasn’t even completely wrong.” His voice is calmer than before, measured and even. Not as frantic. The river is still flowing free, but it’s calmed, no longer the violent rush of a broken dam. He sighs, a great, world-weary thing. “It was because you’re safe.” Jaskier looks at him quizzically.

Geralt draws in another deep breath before continuing. “I can’t ever show emotion. Not to humans. Not anger, or fear, or sometimes even joy. The myths about Witchers not having feelings…they aren’t just vicious rumors made up by bigots. They’re there to protect us. From them.”

Jaskier frowns. “You mean Witchers put that rumor out yourselves? But why?” Surely demonstrating how human Witchers really are can only help matters, right?

“In a way.” Geralt tilts his head in the way Jaskier knows means he’s remembering something long past. “It’s part of how we’re trained. We’re taught to suppress emotion, to hide it from everyone, including ourselves. It’s how we’ve done things for 400 years.” His thumb sweeps little arcs across the back of Jaskier’s hand, and Jaskier’s heart trips in his chest. He knows Geralt can probably hear it, but it must not worry him and he keeps talking.

“The first Witchers were experiments. Men twisted by mages hoping to combat the monsters that plagued the world. The process has been…refined, since then. At first, they really were- well. More monster than man.” Geralt tips his head back against the rock wall. “Humans were terrified of them. One and all, right down to their bones. The first Witchers didn’t take contracts, because no humans would even speak with them. They just wandered around until they found a monster to kill, and then moved on to the next. Eventually, people started to realize that Witchers were only killing monsters, and leaving humans be, so they slowly started reaching out for help.”

“Ungrateful sods, the lot of them,” Jaskier mutters, and hears Geralt’s quiet huff of laughter in response.

“You’re. You’re so special, do you know that?” Jaskier jerks his head up in surprise to see Geralt’s eyes on his face, liquid gold lit like sunrise by the light of the fire, a tiny smile playing around his lips. “You’ve never been afraid of me. Not once. Not even when the only things you knew about me were that I scowled a lot and I had two very scary swords.” Jaskier flushes at the reminder of the babble that spilled out of his mouth the moment he laid eyes on the single most attractive person he had ever seen in his 18 years of life.

He drops his eyes, knowing there’s no hiding the blush on his cheeks but ignoring it as hard as he can anyway. “What’s there to be scared of? You’re a puppy, not a wolf.” He expects a grumble, or a glare, or for Geralt to ignore him completely. Certainly not the bark of laughter that would have woken Ciri were it not for Yen’s charm. He stares at Geralt’s face, firelight flickering over pale skin, honest joy written in the curve of his mouth, and grins back helplessly.

“You’re the only one who’s ever thought that. Except maybe Eskel.” He laughs again, more quietly this time, then sobers slightly. “Humans are afraid of us. They always have been. Less now, since you,” he squeezes Jaskier’s hand again and Jaskier flushes even darker, “but the first Witchers were barely more than feral, and that impression…stuck. Humanity never got past it. Even when new generations of Witchers were made, when we became something closer to men than to monsters, their fear never went away. Any emotion, even the faintest irritation, was enough to make most humans think a Witcher was about to go berserk, to start tearing out the throats of anyone who got too close. So, we learned to shut them down.”

His eyes are downcast now, and Jaskier thinks of a tiny Geralt, just a boy, younger than Ciri, excited about the world, curious and clever and mischievous, thinks about him learning to hide his heart away until even he couldn’t find it anymore, and he wants to scream. He wants to cry, he wants to rage, he wants to find every human who ever judged a Witcher by his eyes and not his deeds and mount their heads on spikes. He wants to tear out their hearts and make them watch as he throws them on the pyre, burning them out like so many boys were made to burn out their own.

Geralt can smell his turmoil, he knows, and he clings to the comfort offered when he holds Jaskier’s hand as tightly as he can without hurting him, still tracing circles into his skin with his thumb.

“It isn’t safe, to have feelings. Humans may spit on a mutant with a heart of stone, but they’ll hunt and kill a monster with teeth they think will harm them. It’s safer to be cold, to be hard. To let all of it roll off of us like snow off a mountain. And after a while, you forget how to be anything else. You forget that it’s a lie, that it’s something you had to learn. You start to believe it too.” There are tears dripping off of Jaskier’s nose now, but he doesn’t dare interrupt again. “I had forgotten, until you.”

He looks at Jaskier with such naked feeling in his fiery eyes that Jaskier can’t fathom how anyone could believe this man has no heart. “You made me feel. You walked into my life and just-“ He huffs another low laugh, the faraway look on his face impossibly fond. “You just didn’t listen to a fucking thing I said. Ever! Not once! And it drove me up the godsdamned wall. I was going out of my mind, I was so fucking annoyed. You never stopped talking, or singing, or playing that damn lute, you never stayed out of the way on hunts like I told you to, you ignored me whenever I said I didn’t have feelings or I didn’t need anyone or we weren’t friends. And you wouldn’t leave! You just kept coming back, no matter how much of an arse I was, even when I acted in ways that would have made other humans shit themselves, or come after me with torches and pitchforks, or both. You just kept coming back, and you kept not believing me when I told you I was a monster, and you never smelled fucking afraid, and after a while I realized that irritated wasn’t the only thing you made me feel anymore.”

He seems to withdraw into himself a little, his shoulders hunching and his head hanging slightly. He tries to withdraw his hand, but Jaskier isn’t sure he can get through this conversation without it, so he hopes Geralt will forgive him for pushing yet more boundaries and simply holds onto him tighter.

Geralt sighs again, but stops pulling away. “But there’s still so much shit in the world. There are so many humans who hate me, or fear me, or try to cheat me, or who end up being monsters worse than the ones they want me to kill, and the problem with having it smacked over my head that I do actually have feelings, is that it makes it so much harder to ignore them. And there’s so much anger in me, Jaskier, and grief, and loneliness. And I can’t ever show it to anyone, or it will confirm everything they think they know about me. It will make me a monster. It will make me the Butcher all over again.” He looks up again, his expression anguished. “You’re the only one who’s safe. You’re the only one I can be angry around, or sad, or scared, or just annoyed, without thinking the worst of me. You’re the only one who ever comes back.”

Jaskier is back to feeling like his heart is being fed through a sieve, but he thinks he understands what Geralt is trying to say this time. He feels a renewed rush of guilt for assuming the worst of him before. Is he any better than the rest, jumping to the foulest possible conclusion while Geralt wrestles with his tongue to try and make him understand? He turns his head away, closing his eyes against the tears and trying to breathe through the shame.

Fingers grip his chin gently and coax his head back until he’s looking into Geralt’s slitted eyes again. The look on his face is so soft, so open, that Jaskier feels like his ribs are being pried apart at the sight of it. “You have no idea how much of a blessing you have actually been in my life, Jaskier,” and those words just crack his chest wide open and bare his heart to the whole room, don’t they? “I took advantage of you. I wanted so badly to have someone in my life I could show all the darkest parts of myself to, without them running away, that I forgot to show you the rest. And I forgot to help carry your darkness in return. I left you with such a burden, Jaskier, and you never once complained or asked me to help. You have done nothing but give, for as long as I’ve known you, and I wish I could show you how sorry I am that I was content for so long just to take.” Jaskier is pretty sure he’s openly sobbing now, but Geralt is sliding his hand up from his chin to cup his cheek, sweeping the tears away with his thumb, so it’s probably ok.

“Let me make it up to you, Jaskier. Let me be the one to give to you for once. Let me carry your burdens for a while. Let me give you a reason to forgive me. A reason to come back.” His eyes are pools of molten gold, wide and dark and shining with- emotion. An emotion. Jaskier isn’t going to hazard a guess at which emotion, because he isn’t sure he can handle the answer.

“I’ve already forgiven you, you great lummox. For all of it. A safe place is all I ever wanted to be for you. I only ever wanted to give you a home. Like you gave me. Just- just share it with me next time, please? The anger, or the fear? Share it with me first, instead of letting it fester and burn us both. That’s all I need from you.”

Geralt’s hand on his cheek guides him forward until their faces are inches from each other, foreheads resting together. Jaskier’s eyes want to close but he can’t bear to look away, too afraid this is all an impossible dream that will disappear as soon as he opens them again. He can see the way the firelight glimmers off his silver hair, the scars through his eyebrow, the tears clinging to his eyelashes as they sweep gently over his cheeks. He’s never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever deserved you, but I would do anything for the chance to try to be someone who does. I’m yours, Jaskier. You need only say you’ll have me.”

Jaskier is a man of words. He’s a bard, words are his trade, his weapons, the blood in his veins. No matter what else is happening around him, no matter what he has or what he’s lost or what needs to be done, there are always words ready to spring forth from him like water from a spigot. He has never, in all his life, been out of words.

Until now.

Fuck it.

Geralt’s lips are softer than he imagined, given that his skincare routine seems to consist primarily of monster innards. But they’re soft and they’re warm and they move so gently against Jaskier’s that he thinks he might simply melt into a puddle, to be absorbed into the earth and never seen again. The kiss is tender, and sweet, and longing, and not at all how he imagined his first kiss with Geralt would be. It’s perfect. Jaskier breaks it with a watery laugh, keeping his forehead pressed to Geralt’s.

Somehow his free hand has found its way back into Geralt’s silky hair, and he threads his fingers deeper into the moonlit locks and hopes he’ll never have to let go.

“You’re mine?” He knows he sounds a little pleading, disbelief coloring his tone, but he can’t help it. He’s had this dream so many times, he needs to be sure it’s real this time. “Really?”

“Really, little lark.” Geralt is smiling just as wide as Jaskier is, his cheeks just as damp. “I’ve always been yours, I was just too stupid to admit it. I won’t make that mistake again. I love you. I’ll never leave you behind again, not for the rest of your life, if you’ll let me.”

And, oh, there’s a conversation they should maybe have, because after all the revelations of tonight, Jaskier is fairly sure Geralt thinks he’s completely human, and is probably in pain over his supposed mortality. At some point before they go to sleep Jaskier will mention it, because apparently Geralt hasn’t noticed that his face hasn’t changed a lick in 25 years, the stubble he wears these days notwithstanding.

Because Geralt is a ridiculous, incredible, oblivious, stupid, wonderful fool, and Jaskier loves him so much he can hardly breathe. So he tells him so. The rest can wait.

#the witcher #twn #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #julian alfred pankratz #yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla fiona elen riannon #the witcher fanfiction #my writing #i'll do the same with sleep now eventually i think but i want to finish it first

[ajcgames]

Upgraded

I spent the morning working on the upgrades code for the science panel. I'm pleased to say that I managed to get it all working. I was initially worried about how it might turn out, but I'm actually happy with the results.

A brief overview, in video form!

A range of starting upgrades for the logistics entrepeneur!

The science panel's 'technology upgrades' area now shows a list of upgrade options for different categories, only some of which will be available by default.

You can spend science points to unlock each available node in the list, which may unlock other nodes.

I had originally mapped this out in a much more tree-like structure, but the actual design started getting cluttered, and instead I opted for something much more straightforward. The progression flows in a readable way from left-to-right, and the upgrades themselves follow a predictable pattern.

You are prevented from buying anything you don't have the points for, but you will at least be able to see a range of upcoming upgrades to give you something you might want to aim for.

The upgrades themselves cover a range of enhancements to your existing factory operations. Belt speed, machine processing time - all the usual kinds of incremental improvements you might want to make over time.

The upcoming Research Tree will be the area where you'll actually have to spend money to unlock new structures and buildable objects. I'm still thinking about how to lay this out, but hopefully I'll figure this one out today as well.

Thanks for stopping by! And I hope you're having a great start to the week.

See you next time!

#indie games #game development #game dev blog #gamedev #automation #factory game

[nyktomorphia]

Previously in the Night Land bestiary: Night Hounds, Giants, Silent Ones, 14-Legged Beast, Doorways in the Night, Slug.

Brute-men are one of the many abhuman variants, predictably combining human and [rand_animal] features into a grotesque appearance, and I'm really only separating them until I inevitably run out of things to say about them. The brute-men stand out, however, because the Night Land is not their only appearance in William Hope Hodgson's bibliography. (I know I've made several jokes at the expense of The Night Land's writing style, but the rest of his work is much more readable.)

First, there's Carnacki the Ghost-Finder, Hodgson's occult detective series and an early prototype of the subgenre that includes everything from Twin Peaks to Scooby-Doo. While J. S. Le Fanu's Dr. Martin Hesselius came first (by several decades), Thomas Carnacki is notable for the fact that he doesn't know whether a case is preternatural or mundane until he puzzles it out along with the reader. One of Carnacki's later adventures begins with a client reporting nightmares of squealing pigs, whom Carnacki is concerned to find is acting increasingly porcine himself. Carnacki's sleep experiments turn unexpectedly perilous when they reveal his client's dreams are being pushed ajar by the Hog, a primordial Outer Monstrosity using them to crawl its way back into the world.

Closer to The Night Land is The House on the Borderland, another novel framed as a found document. The narrator is an aged recluse, who lives with his sister in an old haunted house on a cliff, which begins giving him visions... transported across unfathomable depths of space, he finds his house again, jade-green and colossal in a dim red landscape but otherwise identical. Surrounding it is an arena or crater surrounded by a circle of mountains. Among these mountains are the ancient shapes of human and alien gods, immobile and immortal. Beyond the mountains is an endless plain of silence. In the sky above is a sun as black as the night sky, illuminating this place with a corona of dim red flames. And outside the house are pig-faced beast-men, peering inside and probing the locks and hunting him when they become aware of his presence. They are still outside his house when his vision ends.

Remembering that the Night Land is also a vast dark landscape, where the Last Redoubt is surrounded by mountains and the titanic Watchers which creep glacially towards it... among its other features is a place called the House of Silence, an ornate mansion that glows from within. (Its doors are unlocked, and its windows open, and no movement is ever seen inside. No one has ever emerged.) Although the Borderland is at the end of space and the Night Land at the end of time, their parallels are obvious, but their significance uncertain. And the swine-things haunt them both.

#artists on tumblr #my art #pencil drawing #fantasy art #fanart #concept art #horror art #the night land #the house on the borderland #gothic horror #cosmic horror #monster design #gaslamp fantasy #thinking out loud

[silvertsundere]

Silver Talks AniManga (22/10/23)

next week is gonna have another big catch up, I was actually gonna do it the week after I did jujutsu but then realized next week it'd be the 200 chap for this series so decided to postpone it until then just cause it's a cool big round number, tho today's chap 199 woulda been fitting too since it was the colour page for the serie's 4th anni but anyhoo also starting from now the stuff I talk about will be bolded as seen below, yeah I shoulda done this from the start cause it's way more readable and stuff but the other thing I did made more sense at the time I started it, but this is better overall now

Anime

Hoshikuzu Telepath Ep2

nice epiosde mostly just introducing the 3rd member of our main group, next ep is gonna be aoki shiki's chara so that should be good

Frieren Ep7

very good ep like usual, the demon story in the middle was pretty obvious but it was still good. very excited for the next episode considering the cliffhanger and the title for it, hoping for some more sakuga 🙏

Undead Unluck Ep3

great episode all around, loved hearing my queen yuuki as gina, too bad we won't see much more of her til cour 4 or 5 (depending on how fast adaptation goes) but it'll be worth the wait. also, since I read all of UU from start to just some months ago, in just a couple days I had things very fresh on my mind so I noticed it easily, but it's really crazy to see how early tozuka set up seeds for future payoffs, I won't mention what exactly cause spoilers but there were 3 ones in this episode and it really is great writing and storytelling to be able to pull that off

Pokemon Horizons Ep25

nice and action packed episode, fit for being the end of this initial cour/arc, which we only found out about earlier this week. should be getting a new op along with the new subtitle and stuff but we'll see. we also got some lore like the full team of the ancient adventurer and that the evil organization was related to him in some way. the goal now is to find the rest of the team so that should last for 25 more eps probably but we'll see, there should still be gym stuff along the way and all that

Adult Precure Ep3

nice ep, lots of karen x kurumi moments which this artist I follow on twitter was certainly going hog wild for. saki and mai from splash star showed up at the end of this episode, and next one is gonna be about them, so that's cool since I didn't think they'd show up until the yes 5 girls had all gotten their transformations back

Imas Million Live Ep3

good ep as you'd expect, really enjoyed how much yuriko there was since she's one of my favs from ML (mikku 🙏), next episode is gonna have at least a crumb of rio so looking forward to that too they said the teather will take 2 months to finish building, I hope that it'll be finished after next episode just so we can move on to other stuff. not having this following the structure of the og anime/U149 makes it harder to predict what'll be happening

Manga

Ice-Head Gill Ch17

as expected it's ending soon, and as part of the U19 club as well, hopefully ichinose ends on the same week too, but I'll give more thoughts when it actually ends

Jujutsu Kaisen 239

I was looking forward to see how yuji and co were going to take on juiced up sukuna but we're taking a detour to have kenjaku fight, but with the twist that it's one of the most (unknowingly) op charas fighting him. I really like how goofy his power is so looking forward to this fight. tho I don't think there's any way he'll win

Undead Unluck Ch180

I could see this coming cause of fuuko saying all that earlier in the chap but it's still EXTREMELY POGGIES to have andy back after all this time, even if just temporarily, looking forward to them having a crumb of time together next chap

#silver talks animanga

[obixwan]

6. Wanting to borrow the same book but there's only one copy of it available at the library. After constant fighting over who will get it, you both decide to share it and study together.

With our favorite Commander Cody please 🥺🧡

WHO sent this i just wanna talk. academic rivals to lovers? please say no more. 🥰 i love him

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

It’s late. Your eyes are tired, and the words on the page are starting to blur together as it finally becomes clear that this is not the book you are looking for. You sigh as you close the book shut, and rub your dry eyes. The rest of your study group packed up ages ago, leaving you here to mull over your assignment in the slowly emptying library. You’re half way through your last year at the Republic Military College, and this assignment is worth more than your head. But just as your friends predicted you would, you’ve left everything to the last minute, resulting in a week of late nights and long study sessions. But you’re nearly done, you just need the finishing touch. That finishing touch, however, has been eluding you all day and all night.

You return the book to it’s spot on the shelf and start browsing again. You’re about to give up when you spot it, the book that could be the finishing touch you’ve been searching for. There’s only one copy and it’s about as battered as it can be while still being readable but. As you reach for it, your hand is knocked away by another gloved hand. You scowl as you recognised the person the hand belongs to.

“Commander Cody.” You greet. He’s looking at you, his deep frown making his scar on the side of his face ripple. You use his distraction to your advantage and swipe the book off the shelf.

The trooper crosses his arms, black materiel of his bodysuit stretching over his burly muscles. “I need that book.” He says, ignoring your greeting, looking down on you.

You shrug. “Too bad. I need it more.” You turn and leave but he follows you.

“I doubt that.” He says, foot steps loudly stomping behind you. “I need to study for my promotion.”

You roll your eyes, sitting back down at your table. “Oooh,” You taunt, “Big Marshal Commander Cody, I am just quaking in my boots.” You pout, voice dripping in sarcasm.

You and Cody harboured what could be called a love/hate relationship because you love to hate him. You fight and squabble over the tiniest of things. Most of the time, Cody’s brothers end up pulling him away to the opposite end of the library in hopes they get some work done. You both antagonise each other, but you swear, you only put out what he gives you. It’s not your fault, and you’ve never started anything. You only finish them. And right now, you’re intent on finishing this argument before it even starts.

“I don’t care about your promotion.” You sit yourself back down amoung your piles of papers and towers of books. “I graduate in less than six months, i need this book.”

“And I’m going for a promotion, I need it more.” He ardently insists.

You peak at Cody up through your lashes. His mouth has turned down into a displeased sneer, his nose is crinkled in distaste. “Didn’t I just say I don’t care?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in pretend confusion.

You place your headphones over your ears and your music automatically resumes. The lo-fi beats immediately put you back on track and you forget about Cody, pulling your data pad over close, taking notes down. You mind absorbs the information like a sponge, and you switch between writing notes down to typing them into your essay.

Fifteen minutes later, it occurs to you that Cody has not relented. He’s still standing over you, arms crossed, legs shoulder width apart, with an aggressive scrowl on his face. “I offer a compromise.” He says, jaw tight in annoyance.

“And what would that be, Commander?” You ask.

He says, letting his body relax. He pulls the chair over, next to yours and sits down. “Why don’t we just share it.”

And even though his elbow bumps yours every so often… you find yourself admitting that you don’t actually mind spending time in such close proximity to him…

#sorry this took me all morning huwfehurghf #im down so bad for cody he’s on my mind 24/7 #god please ughgfhgu #ask prompt #commander cody x reader #cody x reader #emma writes

[literary-illuminati]

Books I Read in May

(Because I’m trying to get back on this wagon after missing April.)

18. The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer by Siddhartha Mukherjee

This is probably not my favourite piece of pop science writing, but it’s really got to be up there. The history of how cancer’s been understood and treated through the last century is just absolutely morbidly fascinating (my roommate has placed a moratorium on any unsolicited ‘fun facts’ since I started reading this book).

But beyond a) an incredibly visceral understanding of what Leukemia is and b) an appreciation for the public health advances of the early/mid-20th century, my main takeaway was that the book was actually just weirdly hopeful? Like, compared to, well, everything (except consumer electronics) the degree to which cancer treatment’s have actually just kept getting better over the last decades gives you back a bit of the old faith in Progress.

Also just both very readable and downright poetic at points (and just. Incredible title.)

19. Light From Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki

Hugo nominee novel number 2!

I was, honestly, not particularly impressed. Like it’s not bad – really extremely readable, really – but just, eh? 6/10.

It was above all just so very sentimental – believe in yourself! Love conquers all! Happy endings for absolutely everyone! Good bread tastes like home, even if you’re an alien! - which I suppose I’m just allergic to, and so will restrain myself about because it’s just a matter of taste.

Katrina was a good protagonist, entertaining internal monologue, well executed if incredibly predictable arc. But Shizuka and Lan...for the sheer amount of the book their romance took up, it still felt like the romance subplot thrown in as an afterthought in some blockbuster? They fell in love at first sight because the story tells us they do, and then they spend a bunch of scenes together,  so clearly they’re a love for the ages! Never mind the palpable lack of chemistry or real connection between them. (And the less said about the rest of Lan’s family the better, character-wise. Though I mean Shirley was just an embodied cliche but it’s a cliche I like so she gets half-credit).

And yeah I could bitch about this book for ages but that just seems meanspirited (also I already spent like two hours doing so with @toasthaste​) so. The evil violin repairwoman was fun?

20. She Who Became The Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan

Hugo nominee novel number 3!

Or, as the friend who lent me it described it, ‘the one with the lesbian fisting in it’. (This wasn’t an exaggeration. Despite the jokes I was not expecting to get a scene of, like, actual porn 300 pages in.)

Anyway, no, this was good! ‘Low fantasy/mythologized retelling of actual historical events’ is a conceit I really love when it’s pulled off well, and Parker-Chan absolutely pulls it off well. Even if ‘If Anyone Finds Out I’m A Girl I Won’t Be Able To Found The Ming Dynasty!” sounds like something an automatic light novel series generator would split out.

Though really at least half the book’s best scenes are the whole revenge melodrama going on with the Mongol prince and general whose names I’m blanking on and aren’t mentioned in the Wikipedia article or goodreads summary. Just gloriously operatically angst-filled self-loathing and obliviousness and killing the only man you love for the sake of vengeance.

Not that Zhang as a protagonist isn’t great, too. I mean partially I just love the whole trope of ‘scheming, manipulative bastard constantly working every angle they can, who hides it all under an act of humble piety/devotion/loyalty and pretending all their successes are just luck/providence/divine favour, and no one’s quite sure how full of shit they are”. But also, you know, got to love any hero dedicated enough to making their own destiny and carving their own place in the world that they just straight-up murder the ten-year-old messiah to make sure there’s no competition at the top.

21. Hero of Two Worlds May: The Marquis de Lafayette in the Age of Revolution by Mike Duncan

Possibly the most middle-class-American-dad-ish book I will ever read (unless I ever get really into WW2, I guess?). Before reading it I had essentially zero interest in the Marquis de Lafayette in particular, but I really like the Revolutions podcast, and I do love reading about the French Revolution, so.

Honestly after reading the book I’m still not particularly interested in the Marquis de Layfayette – beyond a grudging respect for not changing his political opinions one iota after losing control of the revolution and spending four years in an Austrian dungeon after fleeing the country ahead of the tribunal, I suppose – and on the whole I found the book a lot less interesting than The Storm Before The Storm. Though that’s probably mostly just because I went in already knowing a lot more about the Age of Revolution than I did about the Late Roman Republic. (I did learn a bunch of military minutia about the American Revolution that I assume Americans all get taught in elementary school).

Probably because of that, by far the best parts of the book (imo) were the ones describing life in the Ancien Regime and post-Restoration. The latter, especially – the whole early 19th century milieu of revolutionary secret societies forcibly suppressed by foreign arms is just worldbuilding inspiration catnip, really.

The whole thesis of the early French Revolution section (and it’s repeated often enough that I’m pretty comfortable calling it that) about how the ‘salon revolutionaries’ were only ever able to extract reforms and concessions from the King by using the energy and threat of the angry mobs on the streets and the direct, violent, insurrectionary actions does have a certain unsubtle subtext, also.

22. A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers

Hugo nominee novella number 2!

A book I would not have picked up on my own, honestly – three Wayfarers books have taught me quite clearly that Chambers is not for me, no matter how much normal people seem to love her – but she got nominated twice this year, and a friend already had this borrowed from the library.

I think the best way I can describe this is ‘a solarpunk art book, in prose form’. Like, there’s (exactly two) characters and (ostensibly) a plot, and there are themes (my god does the book want to make sure you know there are themes), but, like, in terms of wordcount and detail and enthusiasm, the animating passion is pretty clearly just detailing the society and physical infrastructure and general feel of day-to-day life in the post-post-apocalyptic solarpunk future. And that’s really very well done! It’s a good prose art book! Personally I don’t really care for the whole rural idyll pastoral aesthetic and the whole implicit ‘life being too easy is bad, actually’ thing, but, like, totally see the appeal.

23. Machinehood by S.B. Divya

And Hugo nominee novel number 3!

This was a slightly odd reading experience, honestly. Like, the best way I can put it is, like, some airport fiction technothriller (Robert Ludlum or whoever) except set a bit farther in the future and also woke? Not, like, didactically so or anything, but the genre and plot formula make it more surprising that the supportive CIA handler is a trans guy or one of the sympathetic showboating mercs/bodyguards is nonbinary or whatever. Or, like, the combat cyborg protagonist whose entire squad got killed in a black ops mission into ScaryMuslimLand when the President pulled the rug out from under them is an atheist latina woman and it’s her (male) partner that is constantly nagging her about staying safe and starting a peaceful life together somewhere new, and etc. Not a complaint about the book in any way, honestly, just really struck me reading it.

But weird politics aside, it was a fun read! The worldbuilding was actually pretty great – near future and familiar enough to seem plausible-ish, but still really alien, and still feeling, like, genuinely future-ish? Also it wove it’s weird supertech politics into a legacy/context of, like, actual modern politics, which I appreciated.

It helps that it’s my favourite sort of future – better than the present in a thousand different ways, but with horrifically dystopian touches here and there that everyone’s long since just shrugged and accepted, and also still just weighed down with the shittiness of life under exploitation and scarcity but, like, somewhat ameliorated. (But really, ‘everyone has access to biotech labs in their kitchens! Which is good, because you need to download the specifications the ministry of health puts up for your daily booster every morning to keep up with all the engineered superbugs” is just a great bit of worldbuilding imo).

Honestly my main actual complaint is that – for all the entire plot of the book is centred around paranoia about the emergence of strong/free-willed AI, and the bad guys treat the bots aboard their space station as persons, it’s just...never really clarified how those bots feel about it/if they feel anything or are too limited to care at all? Like, this is important!

Still, fun read.

#book review #analysis/review #Monthly Tally #the Emperor of All Maladies #siddhartha mukherjee #light from uncommon stars #ryka aoki #she who became the sun #Shelley Parker-Chan #a psalm for the wild built #becky chambers #Hero of Two Worlds #Mike Duncan #Machinehood #S. B. Divya

[dazzlegradual]

What Makes a Good Romance?

I’ve been thinking lately about my gripes with the romance genre. I'm a romantic girlie who is simultaneously critical of “women’s media”, but I don't want to condemn something just because women enjoy it. I have a hard time achieving balance between these competing beliefs. Let us then begin with a disclaimer: while I am, in my heart, a hater, I am a girls’ girl who loves girly things. That said, I take issue with the many expected tropes in the romance genre, and that it doesn't try hard enough to produce good writing.

Overall, I believe romance relies too heavily on tropes, which are now weakening the genre's ability to encourage writers to challenge themselves, banking instead on normative design and predictable plots. The romance genre is evolving into a capitalistic, polished, lush-pink echo chamber, filled more-so with archetypes and the wide swath 'vibe' of a book than actual substantive passion projects. Authors who can punt out puff pieces one after the other get big contracts, forgettable book covers, and slapped into Godforsaken BookTok recommendation kiosks at Barns and Noble.

I’ve cared about books and reading for my entire life — and my favorite books have always been (in one way or another) about love. How it precludes us, beckons us, dismays us. How despite causing our most gut-wrenching, lonely, and devastating life experiences, it's also the catalyst of all of our most powerful, ecstatic moments of joy.

Romance is thus, unsurprisingly, an incredible popular book genre: being that it's solely dedicated to exploring people's romantic relationships. And given that it's such a popular genre, there's a lot of money to be made and authors trying their hat at romance. The genre right now is so overpopulated with a wide breath of sub-genres, tropes, and storylines, and there's also a large variety in the quality of writing that gets published. Some of romances' most popular genre writers, like Colleen Hoover, Ali Hazelwood, and Sally Thorne, for example, are talented enough in that their writing is readable, but their writing is not (in my opinion) all that good. I could write a lot more about why I think these authors aren't that great, but right now, in my first blog post about my Issues with the Romance Genre, I'm going to first focus on an author who I really, really adore. I want to talk about Emily Henry, who exemplifies the potential of romance, and keeps me optimistically crawling back to the genre, hoping other authors are half as good as her.

I’m currently revisiting an old favorite romance book: People We Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry. Henry is definitely one of the most popular voices in the romance genre. She’s published three books in her short writing career spanning just five years thus far, and has another book coming out this month. Her books are funny, smart, and easily digestible. The outline of the main characters are always recognizable archetypes, but they still feel flushed out. It feels like she more so uses tropes as a starting point, then she explores how a trope might actually be a real, breathing human. And while all of her books are about two people falling in love, they're also about people in their 30's undergoing some kind of existential life crisis. It's a refreshing balance: both in the age of the characters and how well Henry expands the inner world of her main characters. (It honestly reminds me a lot of what people love about Nora Efron movies!)

People We Meet on Vacation (which came out in May of 2021) is about what to do after you accomplish your biggest goal and lose your sense of purpose. It's also about how the timing of our life choices can be consequential, but we can always change our mind. Mostly, though, it’s a book about how messy it is fall love with your decade-long best friend.

After an exhilarating best-selling debut with Beach Read in 2020, Emily Henry returned just a year later with an unexpected book about going on vacation. People We Meet on Vacation (hereafter PWMOV) introduces us to Poppy and Alex, two people who seemingly have nothing common besides their love of cheap travel and, of course, each other. I was so excited to read this book. When Henry described PWMOV on her instagram, she teased that it would span the entire 12 years of Poppy and Alex's friendship. I love books with flashbacks: I find that novels work as a good medium for large time jumps in storytelling -- more so than film or plays because novels allow for immersive yet clear time differentiations in the way other mediums can't. For example, Henry starts chapters of PWMOV with chonicalizing titles like "10 summers ago" "7 years ago" etc. It's quick, effective, and nondisruptive to the reading experience. And in my opinion, no matter how well it's cast, this couldn't be replicated on film. Aging characters never works that well. Anyone who's watched Daisy Jones & The Six can tell you that. (A notable exemption here is the movie Moonlight).

Another example of this time-bending storytelling working well is in Attachments by Rainbow Rowell, where each chapter opens with an email correspondence, each dated with their time/date. I particularly love this example of Attachments because the use of email time stamps also tells us when the emails are being sent, and thus which characters might be things like night owls. It's an adorable element of characterization. I'll probably talk about Attachments another time, because I truly think it's the best love story ever written.

Anyway -- I loved PWMOV and finished it in two days. I recommended it widely and without reservation to all my friends who asked for a good book to read that summer. It superseded my already high opinion of Emily Henry's previous book, Beach Read. "This book is even better than her first!" I remember saying to people, not realizing then that I was espousing a hot take.

I have many friends who also love Emily Henry’s books, but PWMOV tends to be their least favorite. So many people, based on my conversations and cursory glances at GoodReads reviews (which I do not recommend), seem to prefer Book Lovers (which came out after PWMOV) or her first book Beach Read. 

But PWMOV is by far my favorite of Henry’s, and is likely to remain so. Though I can understand why certain aspects of the book might not appeal to people, especially given the convoluted time-jumping Henry employs. Maybe it makes the book hard to follow for other people. but this book really works for me.

I love the non-chronological flashbacks in PWMOV and how much the narrative moves around. When you’ve known someone for so long, like our two main characters in PWMOV, your memories tend to get muddled and messy. Things get jumbled and you forget who said what or what happened when. I loved that Henry chose to write the book this way. The intersection of time and space made the relationship between Poppy and Alex feel very real, and I got the sense that these were two people who had both known each other a long time and truly care about each other. While they were, on the surface, extraordinarily different and seemingly incompatible, their shared history contextualized their undying loyalty and mutual connection.

This is different from a lot of romance novels, where the two leads share nothing in common besides a undeniable, unshakable attraction, despite having nothing in common, and sometimes even hating each other. Sure, this dynamic makes for great sex scenes and biting dialogue. But I'm always left thinking that this kind of relationship is going to crash and burn in two weeks, which makes the inevitable 'happily ever after' all the more unconvincing. Plus, romantic leads are always sexually insatiable with one another, and I sometimes get reminded of having to awkwardly evade that one couple in high school who couldn't go an hour without making out. I don't want to be that couple, and I don't really want to read that couple. They were the worst!

But People We Meet on Vacation is a romance about two people realizing that it's not enough to fall in love. Poppy and Alex are pretty immature in the flashbacks, especially in their college years. Poppy is impulsive in a way that feels nearly reckless on their first vacations, following random dudes back to tents and showing literally no self preservation skills. She comes across as a lot more tender, vulnerable, and sincere in later years and subsequent chapters. When she's younger, she gets frustrated with Alex's reserved approach to life, and has to get better at empathizing with his perspective. Throughout the book, Poppy learns to not only understand Alex's life philosophy, she values how his experiences shaped him into the person she loves. She sees all of him, and it makes her love him more.

This novel spans 12 years, and it genuinely felt like you were watching two people get through an entire decade with the other at their side. When they fall in love, I buy it.

I think this book is something special. It affirmed for me my stance that 'friends to lovers' is the best of the romance genres, if there is to be any kind of ranking system, and if genres have to exist. But much to my dismay, it often feels like ‘friends to lovers’ is an underestimated storytelling device in the romance genre, despite being the most realistic depiction of how organic romantic connections can be formed in the real world.

'Friends to lovers' romance books often start with one or more of the main characters in another long term relationship. Or maybe they’re getting over a bad breakup. Maybe the two friends don’t realize their feelings until it feels too late. Maybe they're scared to admit their feelings, choosing to prioritize the friendship. Maybe they misread their mutual love for one another for years. Regardless of the particular story arc, the 'friends to lovers' sub-genre is always shaped around two people who (regardless of any romantic attraction) genuinely love and understand one another.

Personally, I’m much more enchanted by the idea of someone seeing me, really seeing me, and choosing to love me. I’m skeptical of passionate, fast paced love affairs (though I’ve had my fair share) that burn brightly and quickly. I do suppose some people want a love that makes them feel like they’re on fire, and I suppose in some ways I want to burn, too. But mostly, I want love to feel like something I can come home to — over, and over, and over again. I don't want to fall in love with my enemy. I want to fall in love with someone who loves me.

Perhaps what I most love about People We Meet on Vacation is that it doesn’t feel like falls under the umbrella of a typical ‘romance’ book. I do love romance as a narrative device, but as I've said, I get irritated by romance as a genre. Many of the tropes considered typical for romance strike me as cliched, over-played, and honestly sexist: the male-lead is always withdrawn, physically domineering, and jealous, while the leading lady is oh-so-tiny, self doubting, and extraordinarily clumsy. There’s always a grand miscommunication towards the end of the second act, over something that is so minute and excusable that it forces the main characters to act with the emotional maturity of 14 year olds. And as the end of the third act draws to a close and we approach our inevitable climax, one of the leads leaps into a romantic, larger than life gesture to pronounce their love, which leads immediately into the denouement, where everything is resolved and our happily ever after is guaranteed.

I personally dislike this approach to writing for how prescriptive and overly simple it is. Most romance books these days read like like a mad-libs. Switch out the main character’s jobs, the quirky-but-wise neighbor, the sassy best friend, the montages, and the chapter 22 sex scene, the mis-read text, and BOOM, a U.S.A. Today best seller. While pulp fiction has basically always existed, but with mediums like BookTok, the swelling monster known as the Romance Book Industrial Complex has been exploited and exacerbated. It means a lot of shitty books get published. It allows mediocre authors like Colleen Hoover to rise to stardom for their abilities to showcase incompatible and boring people doing terrible things to each other because Hoover is able to follow a formula that people will read.

In defense of the genre, there aren’t a lot of gatekeepers in the romance genre. Since the tropes are so pronounced, a new author can write a relatively sound story with very few original ideas. I imagine it's a good way to get started as a writer, or get out of a writers block. There’s a reason there’s such a huge overlap in authors of romance and fan fiction. People come to expect certain things from a genre — and authors learn to deliver exactly what the people want. It's a self replenishing ecosystem.

I can appreciate, too, that a lot of people who love romance and read it to escape: to revel in guaranteed happy endings. People read for all kinds of reasons — and a valid reason is to escape into a blissful cocoon of hot, slicked, angsty abs on a dude named Theodore (or some shit) galloping on horseback through a moonlit beach, straight into the path of an unsuspecting lady’s companion named Carolina who's real passion is knitting yarn rose-bouquets for kittens. (I actually just made this last bit up, but if this isn’t a book yet, it should be. It probably is. I’m not that original.)

My friends who like romance don’t tend to like PWMOV because it doesn’t follow the prescriptive tropes of romance. And I like all the more because it doesn’t. Poppy and Alex feel real, and this book should receive more recognition for its subversive approach to the romance genre. The two leads already know and love each other when the book starts, and they love each other for the entire book. That's never the problem. Miscommunications do happen, but they are the messy, real, human kind.

I especially love that the grand ‘miscommunication’ in PWMOV happens before the narration occurs, but that we don’t know what it is until the book is almost over. It builds great suspense: in the first chapter, we are told something terrible happened two summers ago that ripped Alex and Poppy apart, and they haven't spoken since. Thus, when chapter 32 arrives with the title "Two Summers Ago" and we finally get to read about Croatia, we know something big is coming, because it already did. And when the Croatia fuck-up happens, you’ve spent over half a book with these two characters who have spent 12 years chasing each other around the world on vacations. They know each other inside and out. You know they're going to get through Croatia. And, even still, what happens in Croatia is a miscommunication that makes sense: they both freaked out over something they weren't ready for and then built it up in their heads for two years. I do that! We all do that!

And while PWMOV doesn't grant us with the grand, explosive miscommunication trop so indicative of the romance genre, I would have bought it if it did happen. This is the kind of person you have a blow up argument with — not someone you met 6 weeks ago when they accidentally stepped on your foot at a Belle and Sebastian concert and subsequently joined your effort to stop cruise ships from selling a specific and exploitative brand of bird earrings that are coincidentally made by your long-lost twin sister. (I’m just giving these ideas out for free, people!)

On the first page of The Secret History, Tartt tells you that Bunny will die, and who killed him. In the first chapter of Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, we learn Sam and Sadie will not be speaking to each other in their early thirties. And in People We Meet on Vacation, we know that the Croatia trip will be a disaster. I love stories that reveal details early on but make you wait to understand how they happened. We get the spoiler early on. We read anyway, and we can’t help but care. So many books in the romance genre are essentially ruined if you're told the spoilers because the emotional attachments to the book are only as good as the gotcha's. But life isn't made up of big, surprising 'aha!'s. We hurt each other in predictable ways. We say things we don't mean, we do things before we're ready.

When my friends hurt my feelings, I forgive them. Maybe I already even know things will blow up with certain people in my life. But I can't help but care. I can't help but keep them around. I care about the history I have with people, and even if it makes me more vulnerable, I can't help but forgive them. I am lucky to have my life filled with friends who I've known for years and years. For some of them, I don't remember how I met them or even really why we're friends. What did we originally bond about? Did we meet during class or through other people? Where is that inside joke from? But I don't need to recall all of our shared moments together to remember why I love them -- all I need to know is that they've shown up again, and again, and again.

I'll end this with a slight (but not altogether surprising revelation given that this IS a romance book) spoiler: the first time that Alex and Poppy (FINALLY) sleep together in their awful Palm Springs hotel, Poppy is aghast. Apparently, the sex is mind-altering amazing. This is always true in romance books, but unlike so many romance books, I believe that this first time could be as amazing as Poppy thinks. She herself is in disbelief. The first time isn't supposed to be this good. Why was it this good? How is it this good?

And Alex responses to her incredulity, “because I know you, and I remember what you sound like when you like something.” And you know what! That is an incredibly hot thing to say, and I believe him.

That's what I love most about People We Meet on Vacation. When Emily Henry shows us that Poppy and Alex take care of each other when they're sick, know about each other's parental trauma, talk about their shared hometown, and imagine their lives with the other person always being there, I believe her when she says these people are best friends. I believe that these two people, who know each other inside and out, could fall in love, and stay in love. It's one of the only 'Happily Ever Afters' I've ever bought, and it's probably because it was 12 years in the making.

#people we meet on vacation #emily henry #dazzlegradual

[serenescribe]

Hello <3

There wasn't a limit so i hope these three 🥰 🎯 🤗 are alright?

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask (and no limit at all! you're gucci o7)

🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

i LOVE LOVE LOVE!!!!!!! READER INTERACTION!!!!! comments are my LIFEBLOOD replies are my MEDICINE asks on tumblr are my ADDICTION!!!!!! seriously, the part that makes writing most rewarding for me is the sense of community i get when i write something and people enjoy it enough to talk to me about it. it's so!! it's also why i'm so active in twst rn, having burrowed in a corner in the diasomnia side of things and being very happy that people enjoy my works!

and god, PLEASE send me questions about my fics. if i can't answer it for spoiler reasons, i'll literally just say "i legally cannot reply :D" but it makes me soooooo happy to talk to people abt this. grabby hands pspsps cmere come talk to me

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

this is a tricky one cause i think you can only really have this if you're writing a multichaptered fic. which i don't do very much! but... yes. back when i was still working on dr54 (the full title is too long lmao) there were a few people who threw some theories that were correct. i can't remember them off the top of my head, nor do i want to list them because of spoilers (it's on hiatus but i hope to return someday!! my dear ocs i love you) but they got me SCREAMING to skep in dms ;v;

apart from that... stares at olive. you. you predicted one of my bad things happen bingos.

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

write. like, seriously, write a lot. i've been writing fanfiction since i was 11, starting at crappy oc insert niche shit that's since been nuked off the internet, to whatever i have now. and please do have fun with it! both of that sound very generic, but it's definitely true. if you wind up feeling stressed and upset by writing, which is supposed to be something that should make you feel fulfilled, then maybe it's time to take a step back.

on another note... if you're posting to ao3 and are hoping to get some people reading your works: don't self-deprecate (don't say stuff like "this fic sucks" or "idk how to do a summary" because people will NOT read out of pity), don't overtag, make sure to have proper spacing between your paragraphs (a lot of people are willing to overlook simple errors as long as it's readable, aka the spacing), and... i think that's about it, really. if you need help with ao3 posting, tbh just hit me up off-anon and i can help (<- has helped friends before with it).

#ask box #anonymous #thank you for the ask kind anon! #kinda am the worst when it comes to advice #i've been flopping between fandoms for years

[mandala-lore]

Summary & some thoughts on "Strong and Weak Emergence" (2006) by David Chalmers

I'm finally getting around to posting summaries & thoughts on the philosophy, AI, & consciousness papers I've been reading lately.

I'll tag each post with the full title, authors' full names, and the tag: "Lore flirts with a PhD" - follow or block at your leisure lmao. I'll post each one under a cut to save everyone's sanity.

The paper I'm discussing is here for free.

Please feel free to comment, ask questions, reblog, correct me if I make errors, etc. If anyone has further reading for me, hit me up!

I wanted to start with Chalmers because I was pleasantly surprised at how accessible and readable his work is, and I appreciate that he doesn't flinch away from difficult questions or admitting his own limitations. He's also funny and (in other papers especially) writes with lots of concrete examples and sensory details, which helps me a lot.

"Strong and Weak Emergence" (2006) covers some differences between two classes of the properties of things. Emergent properties are those which set a thing apart as special in itself. I imagine, for example, a specific tree distinct from the grove around it when we look at a landscape. Chalmers discusses how we might classify properties as weakly or strongly emergent, based on whether we fully understand their connections to other properties/things.

If something is weakly emergent, we can describe its properties and understand the chain of its connectedness while still recognizing its separateness. I can pick out a single thread in a sweater and see how it's woven in, but most of the time I just notice the sweater. Chalmers says we would recognize a computer code as "weakly emergent" if we can't totally expect or predict its results, even though they are completely reliant and deducible from the code itself.

Strong emergence, on the other hand, is when we can prove or understand that something exists without fully recognizing its connectedness or being. Witnessing new phenomena in physics, for example, that we cannot yet explain would be considered strongly emergent.

Weak emergence is less "exciting," perhaps, but vital to learning/understanding. Weak emergence is particularly useful in game theory, evolution, and the development of AI.

The only concrete example Chalmers gives for strong emergence - at least, the only one I recognized as such - was consciousness. There is nothing in our understanding of biology, physics, etc. that explains or necessitates or proves consciousness. Consciousness occurs within the bounds of nature/biology (in our brain) but we don't know why; we can only barely begin to explain how.

-> I'm obsessed with this. This is one of the universe's sexy little mysteries I hope we never fully solve. Because then we'll keep writing beautiful things about it.

There were also some arguments related to quantum mechanics in here that were utterly incomprehensible to me, and I didn't do any further digging. I've tried watching YouTube videos on how consciousness itself seems to collapse the wave function... but I still don't really know what that means. T^T

[Frankly, this stuff starts me down intellectual rabbit holes that are indistinguishable from how I think about magic, spirituality, and mysticism of all varieties, so I try not to dive too deep, lest I lose my ability to reason fairly.]

Something being weakly or strongly emergent is, of course, subjective in many ways. By definition, it would be based on how readily we recognize a Thing independent of its origins or related systems. He ends by gesturing toward emergence as a disparate cluster of varying ideas, hence his need to define types of emergence. -> I've noticed he tackles many problems like these in philosophy, including the "hard problem" of consciousness, which I'll get to in a later post.

I'm sure I skipped piles of nuance here and I've left out most of his clarifications, but this was the gist. I've already found this framework useful when considering consciousness or even just learning to identify plants in my own yard. Without realizing it, I've also used this kind of framework to classify genres, follow directions, and memorize names/faces. It's a fun thing to keep in the back of your mind and dwell on more carefully when you get a minute.

It was nice to start with a (relatively) simple concept - and an approachable, skilled writer. Reading this one and being able to grasp at least the most important parts made me feel a lot more confident and excited for what I tackled next...

#david chalmers #strong and weak emergence #emergence #philosophy #consciousness #philosophy of consciousness #lore flirts with a phd

[solatgif]

TGIF: Roundup for July 7, 2023

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SOLA Network is grateful to offer a free one-day event for church leaders thinking about the possibility of a long-term home for their church. Wednesday, August 2, at Living Hope Community Church in Brea, California, 9:45am – 12:30pm. Learn more and reserve a spot!

Save the date! “Writing the Next Chapter,” the 2024 Asian American Leadership Conference, will take place on April 23-24 in Orange County, California. More info coming soon.

This newsletter is one of the many ways you can keep in touch with us. Find us on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. For more, check out my Asian American Worship Leaders Facebook group and TGIF Playlist on Spotify. You can reach me on Twitter and Instagram.

Aaron Lee, Editorial Curator

Enter to win these excellent books! Thanks to Crown & Covenant Publishers for providing these books for our giveaway, in partnership with my newsletters for @diveindigdeep and FCBC Walnut.

Grassmarket Press is a new imprint from Crown & Covenant Publications that aims to provide readable resources on Reformed and Presbyterian theology and practice—for regular people.

What is Love? is an encouragement to stop and listen, to consider that which the Scriptures call the lightning flash of the Lord.

I Have a Confession is an introduction to confessions and what they’re supposed to do (and not do), focusing on the Westminster Confession of Faith.

Worship, Feasting, Rest, Mercy makes the case that the Christian Sabbath is not about what we’re forbidden from doing, but what we get to do: honor and enjoy God’s gift of rest, and share it with others

Articles From Around The Web

Connie Nelson: Back to Basics: The Beauty of the Ordinary in Relational Discipleship to Gen Z Students

“With a prevailing attitude of love that seeks to see and understand our students, we become a wordless witness that frames and reinforces the very gospel message we speak.”

Brett McCracken: ‘Past Lives’: Mature Wisdom in an Indie Romance

“It’s a very un-Hollywood love story, upending the predictable script (“Follow your heart”) that has long dominated romantic narratives.”

John Piper: My Most Influential Teacher: A Tribute to Daniel Fuller (1925–2023)

“There was absolutely no academic gamesmanship. This was life and death.”

Our new Books and Reviews page is your one-stop resource for all of your reading needs. It features Asian American authors and issues, book recommendations, and interviews.

Books, Podcasts, Music, And More

9Marks: On the Strategic Value of Missions Work in Global Cities

Mack and Ryan interview Scott Logsdon and Will Sutton on the strategic value of missions work in global cities.

TGC Glo Podcast: Pursuing Biblical Community in a Digital Age

Blair Linne, Aixa de López, Sharon Dickens, and Soojin Park discuss the trend of online church engagement, why some of us might find online church more comfortable, God’s design for connection and community, and why isolation is dangerous for our hearts.

Aaron Lee: Related Works

Book Review: Worship, Feasting, Rest, Mercy: The Christian Sabbath by Daniel Howe. Listen to our TGIF playlist on Spotify. Join my Asian American Worship Leaders Facebook group.

For Father’s Day, check out our Dads & Fatherhood collection! Featured authors include Cory Ishida, Daniel K. Eng, Tom Sugimura, Larry Lin, David J. Park, and P. J. Tibayan.

Featured This Week On SOLA Network

SOLA Network: SOLA Book Recommendations for College Students (and Beyond)

Book recommendations on Seeking Faith (or I Have a Lot of Questions); Finding My Faith (or I’ve Grown Up In Church, but I Still Don’t Get It); and Growing My Faith (or Being a Christian is Hard).

Peter Lim, Jason Min, Kevin Yi: Reflections on the White House Listening Session with Asian American Christian Leaders

Jason Min: Most Asian American churches I’ve been a part of have been fairly apolitical usually because of a fear of being perceived as too political or a general unfamiliarity with navigating topics like these. At least within our community, it’s clear that the younger generation desires to have more of these kinds of conversations in the church and seeks a faith that is more civically engaged.

Young W. Yi: How To (and How Not To) Pray for Our Country and Leaders

“I will pray for the way of Christ to shine bright and above all other ways — whether American, cultural, or religious — for only the way of Christ can bring salvation to man.”

SOLA Network: The Best Christian Books by Asian American Authors in 2022

Looking for books to add to your summer reading list? Dive into our collection of captivating and thought-provoking books by Asian American authors that explore faith, culture, and personal journeys.

TGIF: Roundup for June 30, 2023

The SOLA Network: A Resource for Parents and Youth Pastors / Deuteronomy for the Asian American Christian / “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story?” / The Next Generation: Forming Middle and High School Students for Lifelong Faith / Comforting and Empowering the Poor Through Christlike Love

General disclaimer: Our link roundups are not endorsements of the positions or lives of the authors.

[mostlynotwork]

With a bunch of staple sci-fi tropes and some teen romance, ‘Aurora Rising’ is an easy read for those who love the genre. Though predictable in parts, it still managed to throw in a couple of surprises.

But first, a word about why so few books lately.

Yes, I know I implied in my last post that I was going to try and read more regularly, but clearly that hasn’t happened. Though I’m back to working in the office some days, most of my week is still spent working at home. That means a great many other things to tempt me away from reading - like exercising, Xbox, TV, household chores and family time.

We are being asked to spend more time in the office though, so you may see more of my #bookbacklog appear here over the coming months. I’m also hoping read more over the Christmas-New Year break and also during some vacation time in January.

But back to the book at hand… what did I think of ‘Aurora Rising’?

A familiar but enjoyable story

If you’re a sci-fi fan, ‘Aurora Rising’ is going to feel very familiar. The protagonists are a ragtag crew of would-be heroes made up of all your favourite archetypes; the squad leader weighed down by family history, the cocky hotshot pilot, the brooding warrior who must learn to control his rage, the geeky and misunderstood science officer, the engineer, the outsider with a secret they don’t understand themselves.

From the fast paced opening of Aurora’s rescue, our unlikely band of heroes find themselves working together to solve various problems - the most pressing of which is ‘ who is trying to kill us and why?’

The overarching plot is a sci-fi staple, involving ancient races and a struggle for the galaxy. The authors have their own take on this, which is always interesting to compare. Unfortunately, much of the macro level plot is only hinted at in this book, with its conclusion serving to set up the subsequent novels. Still, if you pick up ‘Aurora Rising’ knowing its part of a trilogy, the pacing of the deeper plot makes sense.

Teen romance

The novel also has its share of romance between members of the squad. Like other plot elements, it feels like what we see in ‘Aurora Rising’ is the groundwork being laid for things that will have greater meaning in later.

Too many points of view?

‘Aurora Rising’ was the first novel I’d picked up to read in a couple of months. I was looking for an easy read and figured a young adult novel should fit that criteria. 

While the novel would probably score well on readability tests, jumping between half a dozen different characters, especially early on, felt confusing. If that’s the effect the authors were going for... well done? If not, perhaps they should have introduced the different squad members in a less confusing way. Maybe even just narrate from two perspectives instead of six, then pick different characters to tell the story in the subsequent books.

Overall, the book is still readable. But not having to spend so much time working out whose perspective we were getting the story from would have made it more enjoyable. Doubly so for someone like me, who read this book in a stop-start manner.

Is this book for you?

If you’re a sci-fi fan that wants a novel with some a kind of romance woven into a light reading novel - this could be for you. Just be warned the jumping between narrators thing may be jarring at first. As for whether I’ll grab the remaining two books? While I’m not diving straight into reading them, They might make their way onto my kindle down the track, once I work through my current #bookbacklog. 

#bookacklog #aurora rising #jay kristoff #sci fi #amie kaufman

[quantummindclassicalheart]

Can you please recommend a text to begin to understand quantum things... I have a solid math background in algebra and analysis, I've personally been focused on understanding rigorous probability... but I'm very curious about quantum things

Hi! Thanks for the follow.

It depends on whether you're interested in a popular science-level understanding or a more rigorous mathematical understanding.

Given that you've asked for "a text" and provided some math background, I'll assume the latter. If you're serious about learning quantum mechanics, the standard undergraduate physics text is David Griffiths's Introduction to Quantum Mechanics, which I still refer to sometimes. (You can probably find a PDF if you search for ti.)

Griffiths requires a basic knowledge of linear algebra, ordinary differential equations, and multivariable calculus, but his exposition is basically the gold standard. It is normally taught as a two-quarter sequence (roughly 20 weeks of instruction) to second-year physics undergraduates.

If you're interested in a free resource, David Tong has some lecture notes on quantum mechanics which I assume are excellent, given the high quality of his other notes: https://www.damtp.cam.ac.uk/user/tong/quantum.html

Also well-regarded is Leonard Susskind's Quantum Mechanics: The Theoretical Minimum, which tries to build up the principles of quantum mechanics with the fewest prerequisites. https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18210750-quantum-mechanics

All of these texts are very readable, and written by authors who care about good writing. My one issue with David Tong's notes is not with the notes themselves but with the lack of exercises. Exercises are something that Griffiths has no shortage of, and Susskind has a few too. If you want to understand quantum mechanics, you have to do quantum mechanics, and that means doing exercises and problems! (If you can do every 1-star problem in Griffiths, that's an excellent start.) If you decide you don't actually want to do problems, then read a popular science book instead-- there is no shame in doing so, since learning how to do quantum mechanics is a lot of work!

At heart, quantum mechanics is an incredibly useful and predictive theory of nature that is both less mysterious and yet weirder and more wonderful than the popular imagination makes it out to be. I hope this helps, and good luck!

#quantum mechanics #science #physics