Reviewed by: Leather Daddy</p>
PLOT: 2/5 (There's a plot all right, but...TWO Mary Sues. TWO.)
WRITING: 3/5 (2/5 for the dialogue. Fabio, hold me closer!)
CHARACTERIZATION: 1/5 (Lupin is probably a ball of angst underneath it all, but...)
SASSITUDE: 6/5 (Remus, girlfriend, you are just ALL THAT.)
First of all, everyone put on your safari hats, we're going to travel into the wilderness of fanfiction and capture us a not-so-rare beast, the HARRY POTTER SLASHFIC. These critters were somewhat rare at first, but when the movie came out, it exploded messily, and the damn things are all over the place now, humping everything in sight. The crossbreeds grew weirder and weirder (Neville x Percy, Neville x Oliver, Oliver x Marcus Flint, Hagrid x Snape, Snape x Neville...) and their habits grew weirder and weirder (sex in the Prefect's bathroom, the Forbidden forest, in the Malfoy Mansion, in the Weasley House, in the Astronomy Tower, time-travelling sex, body-switching, Spanish Fly candy...) that it's impossible to keep track of them all. I shot one particularly bizarre-looking one with me tranquilizer gun, netted it, and brought it here for you all to inspect more closely. It's called "The Whore," and it's by Spyder. Isn't he a beaut?
I don't know why so many fics take a character and make them an unwilling (or willing) prostitute. What's up with that? I can hardly believe that so many slashfic authors have personal experience with prostitution (although I could be wrong). I'm guessing that it's partially due to the romanticization of prostitution - and that it's a cheap and easy way to really punch the ANGST button on a character. Oh, the trauma. Sex with so many people, while I pine for my true love. I betcha most prostitutes don't have a true love to dream about.
Anyways, this entire fic reads like it was written for a creative writing class, with some names and terms swapped around. There's nothing particularly Potter-ish about it, or magical. With a search/replace function, I could turn this fanfic into a generic story about a prostitute that I could turn into my sociology or creative writing professor. (And I'm not at all sure I'd get an A for it, but that's another story.) Here, let me show you what I mean.
Ask a roomful of wizards and witches why some women (and a handful of men) are prostitutes and usually you’ll get one of two answers. Most of the men will smirk and say, "Because they can’t get enough! There’s nothing they’d rather do in life than lay back and take it all night." A majority of the women will narrow their eyes in indignation and respond, "Because they’re too lazy to earn an honest living. That and they have no respect for marriage and family life - or for themselves!" A minority of wizarding folk will squirm, shrug, and refuse to answer the question. To do so would embarrass them, or they know from experience how futile it is to argue against cruel stereotypes, or they find it too painful to contemplate the hopelessness that drives some of us to sell our sexuality to strangers. Until this winter I was one of those wizards who evaded the issue. Now I’m one of the whores, and I’m no longer reticent about discussing it at all.
Now replace "wizards" and "witches" with "men" and "women" and wizarding folk with "people."
You see my point? At various points, you can substitute "gay" for "a werewolf" and "homosexuality" or "AIDS" for "lycanthropy." And so on. So let me tell you this story as if it weren't about characters from the Harry Potter books at all, because, really, it isn't. It's about Remus Lupin, the gay college professor/grad student, who received training in his field from Hogwarts University. All was hunky-dory until his big butch lover, Mr. Sirius Black, did something stupid and got sent to prison, leaving poor Mr. Lupin destitute and stigmatized because he's gay, gay, gay. Or he has AIDS.
I can't even continue that.
Let's keep going, pretending that this is a Harry Potter fic. So, our good friend Lupin is a sheep-tossing Welshman, whose mother "developed a chronic degenerative disease" some years ago. That was kind of jarring. Nobody talks about illness in their family like that. That's a definition, not a disease. You say that your mom has cancer, or Parkinson's, or Merlin's crotch-itch, whatever made-up name you want to use. But you don't use vague terms like that, unless it's something like "heart problems," which still narrows the disease down to a body part. Or you say that she fell ill. This fic is written from a first-person perspective, so you sort of expect it to sound like Remus's thoughts, not a detached scholarly discourse on his life written by a third person, ja? The uneveness of the tone and perspective are kind of weirding me out.
After Sirius is sent to Azkaban, Remus loses his house and all his possessions, and can't get a job because he's been "outed" as a "werewolf" and a "friend of Dorothy" - er, a "supporter of Voldemort." Anyways, so he tries to stay with friends, but they can't keep him forever, so the rugged outdoorsman Lupin lives off the land for a while. Because Mother Nature can supply all your needs. Just beware the poison ivy, Remus - it doesn't make good TP.
As winter approaches, Lupin realizes that he can't run about the countryside all winter as the new Wolf-Man. So, of course, he concludes that his only option is prostitution and goes to the owner of the Hogsmeade Inn, some guy called Prospero. Now, I'm sure desperate people do desperate things when they lack money and a place to stay...but most people would go join their local McDonald's team. I'm sure there's a McDonald's in Hogsmeade. Hell, there's probably one on the dark side of the moon. Or if there isn't, I'm quite sure that there's some Blockbuster Lupin could apply at. But for some reason, Prostitution Is The Only Way.
Lupin hooks up with his kindly illegal pimp, Prospero, and gets a room in return for a cut of his earnings.
I’m afraid to ask my next question, but I have no choice. "Do you have some place safe for me to stay when…when the moon is full? I wouldn’t want to disturb your guests—or do any damage to my room."
I know, Remus, I'm like that when it's 'that time of the month' too. Luckily, Prospero has a convenient winecellar for Remus to eat Chubby Hubby and watch Lifetime Television in. So Remus goes upstairs and prepares for his first client. Well, first he has a long hot bath and ponders suicide.
From the tub I can see the glint of my razor sitting on the rim of the sink. I’m so tempted! It would be easy to step out of my bath, fetch it back, climb into the water again, and open the arteries of my wrists or throat. Desperate as I am, I won’t do that, though. I fear God, I love Sirius, and I’m too bloody stubborn to give up on my life without a damned good fight. I will, as the poet urged his father, "Rage, rage against the dying of the light." I cry like a baby until the water has gone stone cold, but I don’t give another thought to the notion of taking my own life."
I'm telling you, Remus, apply at Taco Hell! The pay is shitty, the work is just as demeaning as prostitution - but at least you'll be able to tell people what you do for a living! It's not like you're going to be rolling in dough being (one of) the unofficial Hogsmeade Inn ho's, right? Again, this is prostitution being used as a cheap excuse for some character angsting. You'd think that Remus Lupin would have enough angst in his life - he's a werewolf, two of his best friends are dead, the last was accused of murder - but no, we have to add FAKE angst by making him a reluctant prostitute. What gives, people? I can see using this plot thread, MAYBE, if you wanted to add depth to a normally cheerful, sunny, angst-free person - and not even THEN, almost all of the time - but Remus Lupin is a walking ball of angst as it is! Enough with this! It's like the Diet Coke of Angst! Or some kind of synthetic Angst substitute!
That's another thing. For someone who claims not to be a pimp, Prospero sure has a crapload of whores running about his inn.
Remus had his first trick, who of course, treats him kindly and respectfully, etc etc. Since this isn't really about prostitution, it's almost romantic, but of course Remus has to sob and whimper and dream of his truuuue looove, Sirius. Ugh. Cue the bodice-ripping romance novel action. That's a point, you know - if the plot device would show up in a cheesy Harlequin - and you'd LAUGH at it then - it's probably not a good fic plot. Remus is acting like a red-haired ex-heiress forced to whore herself to the captors of her Mexican bandit husband to free him.
So Remus finishes his bath, and gets dressed, putting on his pressie from Sirius. Aw, a silk robe. How predictable. Why is it that in these fics the guys are always giving each other silky naughty clothing to wear as presents? Why?
"Ooooh, it's rubbing all over my smooth hairless body!"
(Thanks, Pink Freak.)
Oh well, nevermind. I'd just like to see people in fic exchanging gifts that are more personalized than silk robes and all that. Sirius, being Lupin's lover, would probably have thought, "Hm, what does Remus like?" and bought him something that he thought Remus would like and/or use, not just headed to the Hogsmeade Victoria's Secret or whatever. Right? But that's just me, I bet. It's nitpicking, I know - take it or leave it.
But here's a specific comment on the author's writing style; it gets confusing at times because some sentences are too long and overstuffed with details. I promise myself that tomorrow I’ll find other clothes to work in, too; because it’s painful enough to whore in my beautiful dove-gray robe that’s as soft as Sirius’s gentlest touch even this once. I know what she MEANS, but the sentence really should be rearranged and repunctuated for maximum clarity. Something like "I also promise myself that I'll find other clothes to work in tomorrow, because it's painful enough to whore, even this once, in my beautiful dove-gray robe that's as soft as Sirius's gentle touch." How's that?
The scene between Remus and his first trick, "Jamie from Drogheda," is kind of nice, if unrealistic. It reads smoothly, doesn't drag, and doesn't make me roll my eyes. The next few pages are also fine; an acknowledgement of the essential joylessness of prostitution, both for the whore and the client. But now we trot in our first Mary Sue of the fic, Emerald.
At first I didn't think she was a Mary Sue. After all, Remus is pretty much flat-out gay in this fic, so he probably won't be having sex with her. (Or so I thought. I was pretty much proven wrong later.) But then I thought, "Oho, this is probably going to be his fag-hag best friend! The person who makes life worth living again and shows him the ropes!" Boy, was I right. She calls Remus "boyfriend" and "baby" and says stuff like, "Boyfriend, not only are you a prostitute; but you are, undoubtedly, the most insolent whore in Hogsmeade! Must be a Y-chromosome thing—although the young man just before you wasn’t so full of sass." She is DOWN with the gay bois, isn't she? I don't know, personally I've never had the urge to call the gay guys I know "boyfriend" or "baby" or "sugar" or anything like that - but then again, I wouldn't call anyone that. So maybe it's a personal thing, but it seems really forced in this situation. Remus Lupin, no matter how emasculated he may seem in fics, isn't really the sort of guy you'd call "sillybuns."
So Remus and his new best friend Emerald have dinner, and he learns that she is a Real Person with Feelings, not just a Whore. But it's not so bad, even though the forced "down-with-the-gay" banter is kind of silly. The real silliness begins right about...now.
Since the night that I began working at the inn, I’ve dreaded the certainty of eventually opening my door to find a former classmate waiting to avail himself of my services. A few days before the December full moon that actually happens.
"You!" exclaims Avery Thorne-Haskel, formerly of Ravenclaw, taking a quick step backwards. "Remus, as in Remus Lupin--Sirius Black’s boyfriend, the werewolf."
No shit, Avery. YOU know who he is. HE knows who he is. WE know who he is. So why the hell would you say something stupid like, "Remus, as in Remus Lupin, Sirius Black's boyfriend, the werewolf?" Talk about stating the obvious.
When you fic, dear readers, try to avoid clumsy missteps like that. Think; would anyone really say, out loud, several defining characteristics of the person he's talking to? You wouldn't go, "Oh, HELLO, Susie, my best friend, girlfriend of Steve, student of Wanker High! How was your vacation to Hawaii, taken this summer in the company of your parents, your older brother Bob, and your dog Boobsie?" This is all knowledge that the two people speaking would probably know. And if you didn't know, you'd ask, not tell. If you need to convey that information about a character, do it earlier in the text somewhere; don't just have a character vomit out a bunch of details that should be obvious to both speakers.
Now our good friend Avery asks Remus if Avery can "catch his disease" from doing him. Okay, so lycanthropy is the HIV virus now. Good to know. His old schoolfriend is a jerk, etc. Has mean, rough, demeaning sex with him, etc. Bitchslaps Remus, etc. Now, what I want to know is why Remus can't heal his split lip. You've had, what, seven years of magical training and you can't even do that? What kind of fucking magician ARE you? (Besides the kind of magician who can't think of ANYTHING he could do for a living other than prostitution. Hm.)
So time passes, and we next see Remus having a good old-fashioned chocolate binge with his bestest friends, Emerald and Collette. Next he'll be watching "The Bridges of Madison County" and sobbing at the ending. They're sassing each other. Oh god, he's got a nickname now, Remy. Remy?! Here, take a look at these sassy hijinks.
Over my shoulder I remind Emerald that I have a wand in my room and know how to use it, if she eats all the triple-fudge truffles before I rejoin them.
"You’re no fun, Remy!" she sulks. "If I do finish them without your help, you can take it out in trade—okay?"
"You’re not my type," I remind her—which sends both Emerald and Colette into an unrestrained gale of laughter. I feign anger. "Dammit, you two! What do I have to do to get a little respect around here?"
"Us!" Emerald laughs and they dart for the stairs before I can respond.
"Good thing for you that the lobby is empty," Ned shouts at Emerald’s back with mock sternness.
She stops halfway up the stairs and leans over the banister to answer him. "As if I’d be talking trash, if it weren’t!" Then they both squeal with laughter and dash up the rest of the stairs and down the hall that leads to our rooms.
Urgh. This level of sassitude is breaking me.
So now we have the first test of Remus' fortitude: HE HAS TO SCREW A GIRL.
"All right. I’m sure I can make myself do what has to be done. One thing, though. I don’t have the means of protecting her from pregnancy. How would I go about procuring that?"
"Uh, it’s too late for a sterility potion," Ned mumbles embarassedly. "You have to take those for at least ten days before you can be sure they’ll—ah—safeguard the lady."
Excuse me, but what kind of weak-ass excuse is this? I thought this was Hogwarts! You know, full of Wizards and Witches in the MAGICAL WORLD OF HARRY POTTER? You're telling me they can regrow the bones in your arm, and they CAN'T MAKE A CONTRACEPTIVE POTION? Well, so the answer is, obviously....
Have you ever used a condom?"
"No," I answer, seemingly honestly—my "candor" omitting that, since I’ve never yet had intercourse with a woman, I haven’t ever needed a condom or a sterility potion before.
Now wait just one goddamn second here. You're telling me that he's never used a condom before, SINCE HE'S NEVER HAD SEX WITH A WOMAN? He thinks the only purpose of a condom is contraception and he's been going bareback all this time? And he's a WHORE? Man, I wouldn't trust the wizarding world to come up with an anti-STD potion if they can't fix split lips or come up with a contraceptive potion.
I honestly burst into giggles when I read this paragraph. ^_~
Emerald teaches Remus how to shrink-wrap the banana, and Remus assures her that he might possibly find it in him to do her one day. I KNEW she was a Mary Sue! Even the gayest ones can touch the Heterosexual Side of the Force long enough to screw a Mary Sue.
Now, what's interesting about this fic is that it has two types of Mary Sue - or stock characters, if you want. The sassy fag-hag Mary Sue whore with a heart of gold, and the abused wife Mary Sue who fears all men except for Remus, the gay prostitute who becomes straight long enough to teach her that sex with a man isn't all THAT bad. So he has a warm and fuzzy time teaching Megan Crabbe how to have an orgasm.
And the next amusing sexual encounter is right after: Lucius Malfoy and his minions Crabbe and Goyle have booked his time for a three-way. So Lucius is groping him in an evil, generic way, saying evil generic things that the author doesn't even bother to spell out. So Remus decides to get him to leave by threatening to tell Narcissa. And here's a hoot -
"It doesn’t matter what she’d say. As the Muggles put it, I wear the pants in the family!"
"Do you? I’ve met Narcissa. She’s a very jealous woman. She probably gets it from her Borgia relatives."
HAHAHAHAHA, Narcissa Malfoy is a Borgia? That's fucking hysterical. If you want a quick history lesson, a very quick one, check out this brief bio of the Borgia family. Renaissance Italy, yes, famous for its decadence and wickedness and incest and poisoning, but really. Gratuitous reference. So Remus talks Malfoy into leaving, and then we find out that Goyle Sr. was banned from the inn because the last male whore hung himself - or was killed - by him. Oh, the shock and suspense. They're not just jerks, they're murderous villains. Yawn. I personally think that making someone a murderer is a cheap and easy way of making a villain detestable. Think of all the bad, mean, or evil people you know now - and how many of them had to kill someone to make you hate them?
Okay, so Remus has had good tricks, bad tricks, ex-classmates, and the Malfoys as his clients. What's next, Jack the Ripper?
Ho, I was right. Well, the magical version of Jack the Ripper. This client slits his throat, and Emerald hears the screaming, breaks down the door, and kills the guy with a broken wine bottle. When Remus wakes up, Madam Pomfrey is there. "I have to," she insists. "Be reasonable! I just finished healing a wound that stretched damned near halfway around your neck, came perilously close to severing your carotid artery, and cut into your larynx. That thick skull of yours has received multiple blunt-force blows, and your face is a wreck. You belong in the Infirmary for at least 24 hours."
So they can cure all that, yet they can't heal a bruise or a split lip or make a proper contraceptive potion. This sort of glaring inconsistency just jumped out at me. I know that Remus looks and sounds more pathetic with a split lip or a few bruises from his mean, mean tricks, but come on. Make up your mind about his abilities and the things that are possible with magic.
Anyways, Remus has a concussion, so Emerald offers to help him stay awake, since she's having her period and can't turn tricks. So they lie down, because she's cramping heavily, and Remus rubs her tummy and "applies healing energy." I'm beginning to sense that Emerald's going to bathe in the healing light of his COCK soon, because apparently she has to get naked for his magical massage to work. Oh, whatever. What a Mary Sue. So they kind of kiss and dry-hump each other, it seems, since Remus still has a concussion and - well -
"When I nod, she unfastens the dressing gown and slips it off me. Most folks wouldn’t call what we do for the next hour or so lovemaking, because no form of genital, oral, or anal sex takes place for a variety of reasons—ranging from her overly exuberant menstruation to our mutual fear of becoming each other’s whore and trick."
Overly exuberant menstruation.
I have this mental image of her period running around in little gold lame briefs, screaming, "LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!"
In mid-March, Severus Snape comes to visit our dear friend Mr. Lupin. And he wants something Lupin has never been paid for in alll his days of whoring.
Snape shakes his head. "Put the money back," he instructs me. "I was merely making an attempt at levity. My pleasure is to spend the night with you, Remus."
"You’re going to have to be a bit more explicit."
"All right. I’d like to share food and drink with you, if you like, and a bit of conversation. Later I want to sleep with you."
"That’s what you need to be explicit about, Snape. Sleeping with me can cover a whole multitude of sins. I have the right to know which ones you’re commissioning"
"I assure you I was being perfectly straightforward! When we’ve finished dining, imbibing, and chatting, I want to lay down in that bed with you and get some sleep."
Imbibing. Who SAYS that? (Why doesn't he just say, "When we've finished wining, dining, and sixty-nining...."? >D)
"Let me be honest with you, Lupin. I do hope against hope that before dawn you’ll choose to make love with me, but I will not demand that you do so. You have no way of understanding why, but I could never bring myself to demand that of anyone—least of all someone I love."
"Someone you love!"
"I’ve loved you since we were boys."
"You were infatuated with me when we were boys, perhaps."
He fixes a candid, unflinching gaze upon me. "No one has ever returned my love, Remus; but I promise you that I do know the difference between love and infatuation. I’ve loved you for almost a dozen years now."
"Forgive me, Severus; but I must say that you’ve shown your love in some rather strange ways, if that’s the case!"
He grimaces. "I know. But tonight I want to love you as nicely as I know how."
I seeeeee. Severus Snape has secretly been in love with Remus for yeaaaaars and yeaaaars, and now he's going to profess his love by being all romantic and shit while Remus is trying to earn some money here. Come on, Snape, just give him five dollars, get your handjob, and leave him alone! He's a busy man, things to see, people to do...er.
There's more inexplicable romance from Severus Snape while he's being bathed by Remus:
"Would it be less difficult for you if I didn’t look at you?"
"Severus, am I supposed to believe that you don’t want to gawk at me as much as any other man does who pays for my favours?"
"I’m not sure that I would use the word ‘gawk,’ Remus; because you’re far too beautiful to be viewed in such a tawdry way." He momentarily bites his lip. "Of course I would enjoy the sight of your naked body! I have every reason to believe that it’s exceptionally attractive—including the fact that dunderheads do pay to stare at it. However, I’d rather stay in your good graces and hope that you’ll choose to show it to me yourself before the night’s over."
Again, when you're writing dialogue, please read it through or say it out loud. Imagine saying it to another person. No, REALLY saying it to another person. With perfect seriousness. Without soft shimmering candlelight, a harp playing in the background, or Fabio flexing somewhere nearby.
My main objection with this entire thing is that it's completely out of left field. Okay, so Severus is in love with Remus. Where did THAT come from? I understand that this fic was written from Remus's perspective and that to him, the declaration of love really DOES come out of nowhere, but it's jarring to the reader. A lot of telling, and very little showing. Remus doesn't even seem at all shocked and confused by this, nor does he even think, "He's loved me for twelve years?!" and gone back and tried to think of signs of Snape's love. If he showed it SOMEHOW. Wouldn't you do the same if someone randomly professed their love for you?
And here we get more Diet Coke angst, in a very romance-novel way.
"No! And I wish you wouldn’t put it like that. I want to make love with you; and I refuse to be ashamed of that, because I have no intention of applying force or coercion to get my way—despite your having contracted to let me do what I please with you. Shall I get out of the tub and dry off then? I’m sure that we can find other, conspicuously non-sexual ways to amuse ourselves, Lupin!"
I slowly shake my head no. "I very much want to join you, Severus. I’m just afraid to."
"I AM NOT GOING TO RAPE YOU!" he bellows—and, staring into his eyes, I suddenly intuit why he’s so furious that I think he might. Four unspoken words are caught in his throat, wounding him terribly: "As I was raped."
I can't believe it's not buttah.
Later that night, Remus and Snape end up having sex. The buildup is decent; especially Remus deciding, "Hey, why the fuck not. I'll do what I want to do for a change." It felt more or less natural - until I ran into another Unintentionally Hilarious Lemon Scene.
I’m lying between his legs dancing a wild seduction upon the head of his cock with the tip of my tongue when his fingers begin to ask me if I had rather feel the whole cock dancing inside of me.
Exuberant menstruation, dancing cocks. What's next?
They make happy yaoitic time until it comes time for Snape to leave, when, again, we have random, unneccessary angst thrown into the plot.
As with Megan Crabbe, I don’t plan to take his money for our night together. I’m willing to sell the use of my body in order to survive and not harm others, but be damned if I’ll sell my love!
"Here’s your money," I say as I press the coins into his hand. Too late I realize that it’s the wrong thing to say. Snape does one of those maddening things that he does best: He utterly misunderstands my gesture.
"You goddamned son of a bitch!" he roars. "I’m not your whore! I honestly loved you. How dare you treat me like this?"
It’s impossible to answer him for many reasons, the first of which is that he punctuates his outburst by flinging the money to the floor and slapping me as hard as he can. Severus Snape is a tall, muscular man—so his blow leaves my ear ringing, my jaw aching, and my mind muddled, all of which makes speech momentarily problematic. Second, when I don’t immediately answer him he launches into a lengthy and thunderous tirade that precludes any answer. But when the tirade ends, I still stare at him mutely.
Whoa, Snape bitchslaps Remus for - what, again? How on earth could Snape think that Remus would consider him a whore? HELLO, who's the paid whore here? Buttah, buttah, buttah. Anyways, Snape tosses Remus a letter from Dumbledore before flouncing out the door to go sulk somewhere.
Now Remus can stop being a whore, because Dumbledore has given him a cottage and some money, or something. So the inn holds him a goodbye party.
In the epilogue, Annie (that's Emerald the Mary-Sue) dies of AIDS. (Well, that's terrible, but didn't she teach REMUS how to use a condom?) We find out about how AIDS entered the wizarding world through an African prostitute and a wizarding businessman, etc. Hello, agenda. Snape was Emerald's friend and saved her from a life of Muggle streetwalking, so Remus and Snape bawled on each other's shoulders at her funeral.
That's a hallmark of a Mary Sue, dear readers. Not only is she THIS CLOSE to major characters in the story, she may enjoy a tragic death, where people will weep like babies at her passing, remembering her kindness and warm heart. She's not only Remus's bestest friend, she was ALSO Deeply Important to Severus Snape, who personally rescued her from the Muggle streets. Sort of. Being Lupin's gal-pal was bad enough. The part about being so important to Snape that HE cries at her funeral was just the frosting on this self-insert cake.
It's possible to have characters be close to the heroes, and it's possible to have them die and have the heroes grieve for their deaths WITHOUT it being a total Mary Sue. But it just ain't possible in fanfiction for most authors with most original characters. You can usually accomplish this deed only in completely original fiction. For it to be done in fic - tricky, this is, Obi-Wan. Only for those extremely strong in the Force. Most fanfic writers, strong in the Force ARE NOT.
And here's the very ending.
Now I’m aware of four reactions to prostitutes in the wizarding world. They were always there, although the majority of us only perceive three of them. Most wizards still claim that a woman (or man) who would perform sex acts for money does so out of a craving for sex with as many partners as possible. Most witches still insist that laziness and lack of respect for themselves and others impels prostitutes to take up their trade. A minority of us still keeps uneasy silence, unwilling to confront the forces that lead to prostitution and thus unwilling to help resolve them. Last of all there’s the still smaller minority of witches and wizards such as myself who are former or active prostitutes or their friends or loved ones. (And, yes, we do usually have friends and loved ones!) If you start up any hogwash about whores around us, you’re apt to hear one or more stories like mine. On the day that you do, you’ll have an extraordinary opportunity to become a braver and more compassionate person. My advice to you is, use it well.
Well. Shame on me for ever having thought badly about magical prostitutes.
*snicker* I'm sorry. I had to do that.
Overall - I don't know. The writing style is decent, better than many I've read. I've pointed out a few weaknesses that I'd personally correct - some phrasing problems, the tendency towards overdescriptive runons. One of the weaknesses of this fic, I feel, is the stilted dialogue, as I've pointed out repeatedly. Even if you throw characterization out of the window, NOBODY talks like that. It's a common problem with fic writers, so the author shouldn't feel too bad about it. Another thing that I think would improve this fic greatly is if the author would try to avoid the artificial angst.
o/~ dance, magic cock! o/~
Well, it WOULD make an amusing Jim Henson movie.