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lunitawrites · 11 months ago

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Both Sides of the Moon - part one

pairing: biker!joel miller x fem!reader rating: explicit word count: 2.8k summary: After a troubled childhood you move back to your hometown. You are trying to avoid facing the dark past of your family, but you realize it will be harder than you thought when a mysterious stranger appears in town trying to take revenge. TWs: no-outbreak AU, age gap (reader mid-twenties, Joel is late forties), loss of parents, reference to sex work, reference to foster homes, guns, knife, alcohol consumption, cigarettes, Joel being violent towards reader, petnames, reader has hair long enough that it can be grabbed, otherwise no physical description, no use of y/n a/n: hey! so this is my first attempt at writing, I really hope some of you out there will like it. I am eternally grateful to @papipascalispunk who reviewed and edited my work. Thanks a million to @toxicanonymity and @hier--soir for their suggestions! Shoutout to the other Joel Millers on bikes: a minute from home by @agentmarcuspike, jailbird by @toxicanonymity and little mouse by @katiexpunk & @josephquinnswhore masterlist

You are fidgeting with your nametag in front of the mirror, trying to apply it to your uniform, but you must have bent the needle when you removed it last time because it won't stay up now.

“Don’t worry about it darlin’,” you hear Arlene shout from the kitchen, “It's a small town, everyone knows you by now.”

“I suppose they do,” you mumble and drop the pin to the dresser. She's always been nice to you, almost mothering you, since you started working together in the diner. You take one last look in the mirror, smoothing out your uniform and walking through the kitchen to start your 7 PM shift.

It's a slow start. The townsfolk don't start coming until the sun paints the sky purple and orange, until the dust strats to settle and the cicadas’ song fills up the night. Your shift begins at the bar; whiskey, beer, salted peanuts, a smile or two for better tips. The bar fills up with a subtle buzz, stench of alcohol and anticipation.

Later on in the evening, Sam asks you to wait tables instead. You usually prefer staying behind the bar, but it's Friday night, the dining area will get busy soon. Arlene will need the extra pair of hands taking the orders anyway, so you pick up your notepad and pen and head out to the floor.

You are always cautious out here, you have to be. The men are not violent, but they always try to take what they think they deserve. A brush of a knuckle on your thighs, eyes lingering on the swell of your breasts, an inappropriate comment disguised as a compliment, fingertips on the curve of your hips as they pass by. Sam, your boss, always makes sure that it’s not more, keeping an eye on you at all times from behind the bar. Sam is one of the few people who knows about your past, who knows that there were times when you were giving a lot more than a smile for some crinkled up bills, who knows that just a few months ago, your uniform was nothing more than a pair of thigh highs and your underwear.

—

You were six when your dad died, and you moved away with your mom right after. You stayed with her for another few months until they diagnosed her. She passed away before the next Christmas. By January, you were in your first foster home. After you got out from your last foster home with nothing more than a few pairs of clothes and the fifty dollar bill that you stole from your foster dad's wallet, you really didn’t see another option for survival.

It started at a gentlemen's club called Red Rose, just outside of Austin, all neon lights and kitsch, velvet and satin from a decade before. They gave you a room in the motel next to it, but only if you worked the after hours shift, so you agreed. You didn't know what after hours meant at the time, but you would have agreed to almost anything if it meant that you would spend the night in a bed and not somewhere outside.

The after hours, you learned quickly, meant selling your body to anyone who took interest in it during the opening hours of the club. So while you did spend your night in a bed, it was with a truck driver named Dylan, who paid you hundred dollars for an hour of you being a good girl, as he described. Forty of those dollars covered the motel bill and twenty went to the club manager for organizing the deal.

You spent six years working at Red Rose, eventually saving up enough money so you didn't have to stay at the motel. You rented a flat with black mold and sticky linoleum floors, sharing it with three of the other girls from the club. You were driving an old Chevy that one of the girls passed onto you after she moved up north. Six years of Dylans and Bobs and Johns and Joses and Miguels. Six years of sweat and spit and bruises and slaps and come, until you couldn't anymore.

You moved back to your hometown, although it was never really your home, and while you knew little about the circumstances of your father’s death, you were still afraid to come back, terrified to face the past. But as it turned out, you never had to, as if there was some silent agreement amongst the town that they never spoke of your family. No one gossipped, or if they did, they did so silently that it never reached your ears. They welcomed you into town as if you were a stranger.

You moved into your old family home at the edge of town. White paint chipped from wooden boards, almost two decades of dust and sorrow covering every inch. You slowly made it your own home, settling into the master bedroom that was once your parents’, but leaving every other room untouched. You have not dared to open the door of your old bedroom yet.

You still drove the old Chevy when you started working at Sam’s six nights a week, the only diner in town, serving the majority of the people who lived there.

—

It's Friday, which means a good crowd and better tips. Friday means an extra drink for everyone to celebrate yet another week survived in this dusty town in south Texas, just above the border. So you move among the tables with a smile so wide that your face starts to hurt.

It's almost eleven now and most of the tables are occupied; workers for their well-deserved after work drink, youngsters pregaming before driving up to Austin for a night out, some couples leaning over their drinks to be closer to one another, families finishing up their meals, greasy hands stopping you to order another basket of fries. The buzz is loud now, the air in the diner thick and heavy with alcohol and laughter. A usual Friday at Sam’s, until it isn’t.

The door squeaks open, heavy footsteps on the floor, broad shoulders in the doorframe. You really shouldn't be able to hear it over the sound of Friday in the diner, but you do. You lock eyes with deep amber, a pair of sad eyes, searching for a place to sit. Strong arms hidden under a black leather jacket, dark wash jeans, disheveled brown curls, almost halo-like, lit by the street lights behind him. The diner seems to catch up with you, surprised faces turning to the direction of the door, sentences left unfinished, whispers let out, cheeks turned red in surprise, Adam’s apples bobbing up and down. Is it? It can’t be. The sounds of Friday fun turn into whispers, and whispers turn to silence. Fear creeps up in your spine, something primal, something unexplainable.

He walks up to an empty table, heavy boots on sticky floor are the only sound now. The squeal of a chair, denim rubbing against the fake leather of the booth, fingers tapping on the tabletop, an impatient sigh. You move your feet from where they were rooted to the ground just a minute ago. Sweaty hands flipping paper on the notepad. You clear your throat before closing up the space between you and his table.

“What can I get you?”, your voice comes out raspy, almost scared. He looks up at you, a faint smile on his face, eyes not quite meeting yours. Instead, he looks at your lips, gaze burning on your skin, you press your lips together, as if you could hide them entirely. Your eyes flick over to the bar, searching for another pair of brown eyes, searching for comfort. But comfort is not what you find, Sam looks back at you with a wild gaze, almost panic in his eyes.

“Whiskey, neat,” the stranger says, now looking at his hands on the table.

“Coming right up!”, you answer with fake cheerfulness in your voice. Legs heavy as you move, “A whiskey, neat,” you say when you reach the bar, waiting for Sam to prepare the drink. You understand that the questions are not for now, the questions are for later. The people slowly turn their attention back to the drinks in front of them, conversations starting again. But still, the air stays as if it was frozen the minute the stranger came in, Friday never has been so quiet at Sam’s diner..

“There you go”, you say as you place the glass in front of him, voice heavy with the accent you thought you never had.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, not looking up at you this time.

Time feels slow, dragging on every minute, every second of the night. You cannot take being inside anymore. You feel like you are going to suffocate.

“I am going on my break,” you say quickly and don’t wait for anyone to acknowledge, just disappear through the kitchen.

The muggy evening air hugs your skin as you open the back door of the diner. Being outside is just as suffocating as being inside, but at least it's quieter. You take a cigarette out from the crumpled package in your apron, place it between your lips but don't light it just yet. You should quit. You exhale sharply and put the cigarette back. Istead, you lean your head back to the wall, looking up at the moon. She's in her full glory tonight, casting pale light to the dark forest in front of you.

You are not sure what happened inside. This man who you are sure you have never seen in your life just woke up something deep inside you. You feel like you are drawn to him by a strange force, a force that is so foreign to you. There was a certain kind of sadness in his eyes that you only see when you look into the reflection of your own eyes. Grief. Lost. Denial. Something that balances between madness and sanity.

You hear the front door open with a squeaking sound. Footsteps, drunk laughter and heavy drawls take over the silence of your break. You are about to go inside when you hear an intoxicated voice call out:

“Where do you think you’re goin´?” the drunk man shouts. “You think you can just walk in here and have a drink like the rest of us? Like you fuckin’ belong here.” he spits. The rest of the men stop talking. Now he is the only voice. “Let me tell you. You don´t. You should not come around anymore. You are not welcome here and you should know that.”

“So what happens if I do come around?” the stranger's voice is laced with coldness. You slowly start walking to the front. You need to see him again. You need to understand what's happening. You feel yourself shaking, despite the warm humidity of the night. 'You should just stay out of it,' the voice in your head says, but you keep walking.

You peek around the corner of the diner. There he is with six men from the town. They all seem fairly drunk. They seem like they are looking for trouble.

“Well, if you are so fuckin´ sure you gonna come around,” he drawls “we might as well just give you a taste of what we are plannin´ to do with you. Right, boys?” he laughs and the men laugh with him, like a pack of coyotes. They all sound way too drunk to do any real harm, but there are six of them against him.

“Try me” the stranger grits through his teeth. He doesn't seem to be afraid, he seems like he would not care if he lives or dies. He seems like someone who gave up a long time ago.

“That ’s enough!” You shout and start walking up to the crowd. ”Go home or I will call Sam out and we will see who won’t be allowed to come around here anymore”. The loudest one flashes you a drunk grin and says: “That is just fuckin’ hilarious. You wanna protect him?” he asks.

“I am not protecting anyone, it’s my job to keep this place running. So I am doing just exactly that.” you say putting your hands on your waist. “Now, gentlemen, I would appreciate, if you all went home and cared about your wives and kids just as much as you care about your liquor. I reckon you had enough fun for tonight. Go! All of you!” you order them.

You are surprised to see that they do. It might be the mention of their wives and the reminder of how they would react if they saw them coming home drunk and all beaten up. The loudest one turns back for a second and addresses you. “You don’t know what you are doing.”

“I guess not.” you whisper and turn your head to the stranger.

“You didn't need to, darlin’. I can defend myself,” he says, drawl thick as the night above you.

“Mhm, you seem like the type who can,” you say with a half smile. He laughs at that, but there is no humor in it. It should not be possible for a laugh to sound that sad.

“You new around here?”, he takes a step forward, cornering you to the wall. His eyes are searching for the name tag on your uniform. As he cannot find anything his eyes flick back to your face again. His gaze lights something up in you, deep inside your stomach. Frozen flames licking your insides. You are terrified of it, you are terrified of him.

“You can say that, moved back recently. And you? It seems like everyone knows you around here.” you say, heart pounding in your throat.

“Wasn't hard to sense that, was it?”, you can feel his breath on your skin. Whiskey, burning on your cheeks.

“No,” you say, casting down your eyes. Somehow his proximity makes you restless. His presence makes the blood rush faster in your body. Your reaction is almost instinctual, you want to rip his flash and sink your teeth into him. To be closer or to get away. You are not sure.

He must sense it, a sly smile across his lips. He lifts his hand, hovers his knuckles over your cheeks tentatively. You are red burning fire. He brushes his knuckles over your left cheek, your chin, the curve of your neck. He rests his palm on your shoulder at last.

“You are shaking,” he murmurs. He takes his hand away. It's almost like you couldn't breathe while he touched you. Lungs filling up with air again. You lock eyes with him. “So what's your..,” he starts but cannot finish, Arlene opens the back door and calls your name.

“Everything okay here?”, she asks.

His eyes darken. Amber turns black. “It's you,” he says, “I should have fuckin’ known.” One hand grabbing your hair, the other turning you around. Rough denim scratching the back of your thighs as he pushes you up to the wall. Head knocking on wood, you feel dizzy. You hear Arlene’s muffled scream, the door opening again. Cold steel pressed into your throat, you taste your death. “I couldn't have planned this better, could I?”, he whispers into your ear.

“Who the fuck are you? What do you want from me?”, you spit, fear blinding you as you try to grab a hold of him behind you.

“You don't know who I am? That's good. That´s just fuckin’ good”, he laughs, blood freezing in your veins from the sound of it.

You hear footsteps, Arlene’s breathy cry in the background. Boots then. Heavier than she could be.

“Joel Miller,” Sam says with venom in his voice, “Leave her the fuck alone!”

His gun is pointing to Joel’s temple. Sam takes a step closer, “Get out of here. Right fuckin’ now.” Joel slowly releases the handful of hair he still has in his fist. As he does, a bitter smile spreads on his face.

“Another time then,” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear. He steps back, walks slowly to the parking lot where he swings his leg over a 1990 Harley-Davidson, the exact same model that is in your father's garage.

You look at Sam, eyes blurred with tears and confusion.You are certain of one thing, and one thing only. Joel Miller wants to kill you.

—

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated. Please let me know if you'd like to be on the tag list for the next parts!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #biker!joel #dark!joel miller #dark! joel miller #joel miller #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

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evan-collins90 · 3 months ago

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Interiors of the Carnival Ecstasy cruise ship, designed by the legendary Joe Farcus (1991)

Mainly designed in the Deco-Luxe style popular in the 1980s-early 1990s, along with Diner-Kitsch in the Metropolis Bar, and the a sort of 'Victorian explorer's lounge' look in the library. The ship was remodeled in 2009, and then scrapped in 2022.

#design #90s #interior design #interiors #1990s #colorful #cruise ship #carnival #carnival ecstasy #joe farcus #deco-luxe #ship design

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ddagent · 2 months ago

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"i never thought i'd wait so long for you"

Margo/Sergei | Time Travel AU | FR15 | 1,351 words Margo Madison finally meets Sergei Nikulov - only he's met her before. Or: four Margos walk into a diner in Iowa and wait for one Sergei. A time travel AU. Crazy thoughts during morning break and watching copious amounts of Orphan Black have brought me here. Title is from Past Lives by Børns. Happy reading!

They were in a diner in Iowa, some mom-and-pop place with 50s era booths and large milkshakes that were more like cement. For the customers, it was kitsch, but for Margo Madison, with a hastily scrawled 69 on the back of her right hand, this was closer to home than the actual year she found herself in. 2003. What the actual fuck.

Margo had yet to work out the science. She knew it had something to do with solar flares: before the arrival of her future selves, Gene Krantz had warned that it might affect the follow-up mission to Aldrin and Armstrong. What little she'd been able to glean from her counterparts had revealed similar issues: disrupting planned trips to the Moon, to Mars, and the capture of an asteroid. They had yet been able to track the solar flares; unable to determine why they kept shifting timelines. So far Margo had been back in '69, then gifted a brief look at the Apollo-Soyuz capsule, before offering a couple of insightful suggestions for the Mars habitation modules.

The less said about '03, the better.

Continue Reading at AO3

#margo x sergei #for all mankind #margo madison #dd: fanfic #tv: for all mankind #ship: margo x sergei

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nostalgicfun · 10 months ago

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#polls #voting #kitchens #decor #oops made this only 24 hours just rb and vote like crazy :)

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seiunzzz · 11 months ago

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XDINARY HEROES AS AESTHETICS.

🌐 seya : before we dive into an amazing world of web-aesthetics, there are few things that i’d like to point out. first of all, i chose aesthetic for each member based solely on my associations with their vibe. meaning: i associate the vibe of aesthetic with them, rather than the history behind it. secondly, some of the information was gathered from such sites as:

https://cari.institute/aesthetics.

https://www.are.na.

https://eyeondesign.aiga.org.

now that we got that out of the way — enjoy!

𝐠𝐨𝐨 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐥 : 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐂𝐇

“baby boomer & silent generation revival of various 1940s-1950s cultural iconography, design, and kitsch associated with diner, drive-in's and malt shop culture. jukeboxes, poodle skirts, 1950s advertising kitsch, neon, chromed-out automobiles, metallic paneling, 'american graffiti'-style fonts.” — ©️ cari institute.

diner kitsch – aesthetic familiar to everyone, yet not that many people know it’s actual name (or that it is, in fact, an aesthetic!). checkered floors and walls, milkshakes, burgers, neon signs and, of course, waitresses on roller skates — these things define diner kitsch. originating from 1950s, when diners were seen as a place, where you could enjoy a hearty comfort food and have a good time with your family or friends it was finally revived in our years through media that depicts mainly high schoolers or travelers of any sorts, going out for a dinner.

🌐 seya : i chose diner kitsch for gunil because he is literally the embodiment of a nerdy boy who would definetely hang out with his group of friends in a place like that. doing homework, reading comics, getting cookies on the house because of how often they visit a diner… 🥤🍔 yum!

𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐮 : 𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐑

“the term neon-noir is a film genre, but it can also represent an aesthetic. this aesthetic includes a brooding, mysterious, cyberpunk, and dangerous atmosphere. the neon-noir aesthetic can be related somewhat to the sibling-genre neo-noir (without the “n”), including avant-garde fashion, femme fatale style, dark clothing, technology, and neon lights.” — ©️ wendy zhou (from her blog wendyzhou.se)

neon-noir (also known as future-, cyber-, tech-noir) was born in the film industry around 1980s, when sci-fi was blooming yet again. not so popular in web, it is still quite known in gamer community, thanks to such games like “cyberpunk 2077”, “anno mutationem”, “blade runner” etc. this aesthetic is mixing old-school noir with futuristic elements, giving it a whole new look. neon signs, robots, androids, futuristic technology are going hand in hand with good old detective genre, accented shadows, rain and fog.

🌐 seya : i find this aesthetic to be the most suiting to jungsu. i can imagine him in this type of setting so well and i’d actually like to read or even write something, where he is portrayed as a detective in a mysterious and futuristic setting!

𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐤 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤 : 𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐗

“rule-bending, medium-blending "instagram grunge". full of horror vacui, chrome type, oddball textures and self-referentialism.” — ©️ cari institute.

originated in the 1990s and revived in 2010s, acidgrafix (also known as: acid graphics and acid design) aesthetic is mainly seen nowadays on the covers of music albums. bright colors (usually red, orange and neon green, neon yellow, neon purple), wireframes, distorted images, liquid metal forms – all of these are key elements of acidgrafix. the term acid, as you might’ve already guessed, came from the acid house and rave culture. it first appeared on flyers, used to promote and to invite people to raves. smiley faces (of course, resembling nothing else but the actual drug), op-art-esque patterns, sci-fi futurism – all of these were such an eye candy for party-goers, that soon enough this style overtook the music industry. after being long forgotten in the 00s, acidgrafix finally found it’s new home in instagram, where musicians would design their insta-stories and albums with all of the key details of this aesthetic.

🌐 seya : aaand this is the part that i was worried about the most. this aesthetic took it’s origins not from the best culture, but i still find it’s style being quite suiting for gaon. it’s bright, innovative and bold – just like he is!

𝐨𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧 : 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐊

"the millennial and gen-z iteration of edgy grunge aesthetics, associated closely with "pop punk" and the store hot topic." — ©️ cari institute.

*puts a cd in the drive, "girlfriend" by avril lavigne starts playing* now that we're in the mood, let us find out what the hell is a teen punk. the dirty, the angry, the free and THE wild – this aesthetic conveys the whole essence of the rebellious period that every teenager eventually goes through. you can usually see this movement being expressed through clothes, style, make up and, most importantly, music, rather then the way you could draw something or edit a photo. mainly seem in early 00s, teen punk found it's new home in hearts of people through nostalgia that overtook us all as soon as pandemic started. this aesthetic combines different colors like foggy green and blue, obviously black, red and pink (yes, the tricolor of emo aesthetic is very important here). essential details of teen punk are denim jackets, torn jeans, big ass t-shirts with logos of musical groups, fishnets and those humongous military boots that everyone used to wear. the pioneers of this movement are mainly musical artists, like the infamous avril lavigne, all-time favorites my chemical romance, green day, paramore etc.

🌐 seya : now i need you to look me dead in the eyes and say that THIS isn't his aesthetic. bro literally dresses as if hot topic was more grunge and still managed to survive.

𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐮𝐧 : 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐈 𝐏𝐎𝐏

"first wave of corporate appropriation of graffiti culture. typically includes urban streetscapes & iconography contemporary to the time period (eg. trash cans, brick walls, chain link fencing, street lamps, sidewalks, industrial elements, general 'urban decay'). it's also associated with that eras' portrayal of street, hip hop, & punk culture." — ©️ cari institute.

disclaimer: this part is mostly retelling of an article from this site: https://www.grafftergallery.com/2023/08/graffiti-pop-art-vivid-intersection-of.html | i really don't think that i would be able to express myself better than they already did, so let me give the credit to the rightful authors!

this aesthetic is a firm proof of the dynamic between street culture and the world of art that was born in early 80s and was especially popular till the 00s. bright colors, bold splashes of different patterns, provocative slogans, popular singers, models, tv personalities – it screams fight for the freedom of self expression. this movement is first and foremost was heavily affected by socio-political issues, causing street artists to voice their concerns through art. graffiti itself is a rebellious act (you're literally damaging private property) and when you mix this with media icons and pop culture that was thriving, you're guaranteed to have all the attention that you need.

🌐 seya : i feel like this aesthetic really suits jun han because in my eyes he is one of the most brave idols in terms of expressing himself through his style and art.

𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧 : 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐌

"let's take a look at what is included in such aesthetics as retro-surrealism (also known as airbrush surrealism and included in the subgenres of retro-futurism), shall we?"

retro is an imitation or conscious derivative of a lifestyle, trend, or art form from history, included in music, fashion, or looks. the retro art movement always invariably revives and in one way or another refers to everything that happened in the past. surrealism is an art direction that always strives to revolutionize human experience. it balances a rational vision of life with one that asserts the power of the unconscious and dreams. combining these two trends of media art, we get abstract paintings made in the style of sci-fi comics from the 70s-90s. very often they feature elements such as musical instruments, outer space and electronic objects such as telephones, radios, televisions, etc. usually such paintings are airbrushed, which gives them a slightly hazy, matte effect, typical for surrealism (promotes immersion into the unconscious me thinks!).

🌐 seya : i love, love, LOVE this one so much, i just had to give it to my favorite boy jooyeon! i feel like this one suits jooyeon just because he looks like that one dude obsessed with weird ass comic books, always going around with his old mp3 player and vibing to daft punk bangers. sorry not sorry, no one is getting this image out of my head.

#xdinary heroes #goo gunil #kim jungsu #kwak jiseok #oh seungmin #han hyeongjun #lee jooyeon #jun han #o.de #xh #🌐 : seya talks.

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thatndginger · 6 months ago

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Well... it's done! I've finished polishing this little project up, and the last step is to print it off at work after I enjoy my first two-day weekend off in over a month ^.^

The Idiot's Guide to Moressau

In an attempt to stem the flood of idiotic tourists who inevitably get themselves killed, injured, or swindled every year, Portia Beckham has written a short primer for all thinking of visiting Moressau. Her goal is to lay out the most dangerous aspects of the city and what you can do to avoid them. This is not an in-depth guide to the city or any supernaturals by any means.

full transcript under the cut:

CONTENTS

PAGE ONE Sightseeing The truth behind the tourist kitsch - places to avoid at all costs, hidden gems to explore

PAGE FOUR Shapeshifters Debunking stupid werewolf myths, how to pick a shifter from a crowd, how to avoid getting your face ripped off by an angry one

PAGE SIX Vampires How to spot a mosquito, ways to keep your neck safe, popular vampire hunting grounds PAGE EIGHT Witches Best practices for dealing with magic users, apothecaries to stay away from

PAGE NINE Magic and More Magic, and what you should know about it before you visit

SIGHTSEEING IN THE SMUGGLER CITY

The Golden Rule: Use Your Brain It’s hard to resist the allure of magic, I know. But Moressau isn’t the kind of place you want to walk into unprepared. There’s a lot of rot beneath the thin veneer of civility the city’s been splashing around lately. This isn’t meant to be a tourist guide. I’m not going to sit here and pretend that your visit is going to be all sunshine and roses. The sun rarely shines in Moressau, and don’t you know roses have thorns? No. This is a survival guide to help you avoid becoming a statistic.

Avoiding the Tourist Traps I’m going to be honest: ninety percent of the stores in Old Downtown are overpriced and full of cheaply-made tourist trash. ‘But what about Heron’s Compass or The Crooked Spine?’ you may ask. Overpriced. Tourist. Traps. The Crooked Spine touts itself as the oldest bookstore in Moressau, but most of its shelves are filled with the kind of crap tourists spend hundreds of dollars on just to say they bought a piece of Moressau. Most of that crap is made overseas. If you want to hear a sanitized, all-ages-friendly account of witches in Moressau and buy ridiculously named potions that do jack-all, then by all means go to Heron’s Compass. The Maer-Rigan Coven will charge you out the nose, and probably gloat about overcharging you to your face. If that’s the kind of vibe you want, then please stay in Old Downtown and never bother the rest of us.

Shopping That Won’t Bankrupt You If you want to find some shopping that’s reasonably priced and not forced to keep up a bright and happy facade for the city’s ‘image’, then you’re going to want to check out the street markets. All local, usually handmade, and what they lack in visual appeal they more than make up for in atmosphere. The really good ones don’t advertise their existence, you just have to know. Best practice: check the Arts or Lonewood districts on a weekend evening. You’ll find something that makes the entire trip worth it. Guaranteed.

Not in the mood for a stall crawl? There are a ton of unique stores around Moressau worth your time. But like most things, you’ll have to put in a little footwork for them. My personal suggestions are The Salt Well - a secondhand store covering three stories in the Arts - and Thistle & Rue - a local artist co-op that has everything you little heart could desire.

Local Food Worth Your Time Moressau is far from a haute cuisine destination, but since you’re here you’re better off sniffing out some of the local offerings than settling for fast food. Trust me. Check out Jax’s Diner down in the industrial side of town. Open twenty-four-seven and home of the best breakfast plate you’ll ever eat in your life. Or if you want something fishy The Queen’s Catch in the Boardwalk is by far the best place to sample some of the sea’s bounty. Finally, if you’re looking for somewhere with both good booze and good food, you can’t go wrong with Island Goat or the Salt Beard Tavern. Just don’t ask to try the chef’s special at the tavern.

The Historical and Creepy Look. All of Moressau is creepy. At least that’s what I’ve been told. It’s dark and gloomy and you’re just as likely to get mauled by a creep as you are to get scared by a dumpster rat. If you don’t know what you’re doing, stick to the shit all the brochures tout. You’re less likely to die that way. There’s museums and tour guides for all of you nerds, too. That tour of Augustus Laroche’s mansion is actually pretty fun. They have paid actors and everything, but frown on self-guided tours outside of the usual routes. Just FYI.

I’ve heard of some walking tours that have popped up recently that seem safe, if you’re into that kind of thing. Word to the wise, though: avoid anything that mentions the Montrose Syndicate. They aren’t dead, and they don’t like being talked about. Whoever started that tour is going to end up at the bottom of the bay sooner or later.

Seaside Attractions (And Then Some) This is another one the brochures can handle for you. The Boardwalk and lighthouse are safe enough, and there are parts of the preserved old wharf that aren’t too bad either. And yes, they were made with old shipwreck lumber. The founders were thrifty and morbid like that. Stick to the North Docks and Downtown if you want to explore Moressau’s seaside attractions. The Old Docks aren’t the safest place anymore, day or night. If you’re up for a bit of a hike, check out the original lighthouse just north of the city. It was abandoned in favor of the new lighthouse in the early 1900's, but whatever they made it with keeps it standing, even if the rocks around it have eroded away. It’s not as fun since the city took out the bridge connecting the lighthouse to land, but you’re brave (and stupid) you can still make it across the gap. Ask me how I know.

For some modern entertainment - or modern-ish - it’s worth it to check out Saltshock, the amusement park right off the Boardwalk. It’s got some of those old wooden rollercoasters that are actually terrifying. The modern steel coasters have nothing on those rickety old things. The prices aren’t too bad, but definitely don’t bother buying any souvenirs or food there. That’s where they get you.

And since you’ll be in the area, keep an eye on the street art. I know a guy who paints some really cool murals around the Docks and Southside neighborhoods. Some of them disappear pretty quickly, since he never asks permission to decorate someone’s wall. So keep an eye out for anything signed “W S”. And keep an eye out for the rest of our local renegade artists too. You could spend hours searching out all the hidden masterpieces in this city and still miss half of them.

SHAPESHIFTERS

There’s one thing you can count on in the world, and it’s that no one will ever agree on what’s the ‘right’ thing to call a shapeshifter. But to save you some trouble, I’ll tell you the best ones. Only scientists and academics use that stupid ‘metamorph’. Most people settle for ‘were’ or ‘shifter’. If you know what kind of shifter you’re dealing with, calling them a werelion or whatever regional term you know is probably fine. Just don’t call them a beast unless you want them to act like one.

Debunking the ‘Werewolf Myth’ Because ‘shapeshifter’ is such a broad category of supernatural, there are a lot of rumors and hearsay floating around out there. Hollywood certainly doesn’t help. So let’s get some of the worst rumors put to bed once and for all.

First and foremost, weres aren’t controlled by the moon. They won’t uncontrollably transform under a full moon, or grow stronger in moonlight, or whatever else Hollywood has fed you. A transformed shifter isn’t a mindless animal or killing machine. There are some shifters who have trouble controlling their animal sides, but in those cases they’ll act like any other animal. Lassie doesn’t attack everyone in sight, does she? Most shifters are fully in control of their animal sides, and you’ll only have to worry about one attacking you if you’ve pissed them off.

Second, not every bite from a were will kill or turn you. Which is hardly comforting, since you won’t know that until after they’ve bitten you and you’ve spent about half an hour shitting yourself with panic. No one knows how it works, but a were has to want to turn you for the magic to take hold. That said, a big enough shifter doesn’t need to Bite you to kill you. So I’ll tell you again: don’t piss off a shifter.

Spotting a Shifter There’s no one-size-fits-all way to pick out a shifter in a crowd. They look like any other human. Act like any other human. Until you get close enough to notice that they have a cat’s eyes, or pointier-than-normal ears, or freckles that look more like spots. Every shifter has a ‘quirk’ courtesy of their animal form, though it’s not always immediately obvious. I know a werewolf who has fangs in human form, and another who acquired a ‘birthmark’ in the shape of their wolf side’s markings. Each quirk is unique to the shifter in possession of it.

Behavior is another one of those things that’s unique to each were. Some will take on certain behaviors of their animal form while human, while others will only act like an animal when they are an animal. They’re like humans that way. You can’t just shove them all into one box and expect them to act the same.

Finding a Shifter Shapeshifters don’t have a lot of restrictions the way some other supernaturals do. They can go where they please when they please. Except for the fact that most mundanes are still scared of them and prefer shifts stay in specific neighborhoods like Amber Wood and The Point on the north edge of the city. So if you’re trying to find some entertainment on the wilder side, start there.

The hangouts in Amber Wood tend to be the friendliest to non-shifters. Belmont’s Basement is a historic dive that’ll let anyone through the doors as long as they don’t start trouble. Then there’s Ovidia. Be warned, the music and atmosphere are quieter than a usual human club, since Ovidia caters to the sensitive senses of shifters first and foremost.

The Point has been undergoing a bit of a gentrification spell of late. The Montrose Syndicate has been expanding their turf, and with the wolves come the wealthy. Above all, steer clear of Arnaud’s Run. That’s where the top Montrose brass live, and they do not like outsiders. You’re more likely to get your throat torn out than to get a lukewarm welcome in the Run.

But if you want to try your luck, The Hunt on Starfall, or the Silver Bullet lounge are your best bets. Better be on your best behavior, though. Insulting a Montrose soldier is the last thing you’ll ever do.

Were Deterrent? There Deterrent! Silver will mildly irritate a shifter, but it won’t kill them. That whole silver bullet thing works because, it turns out, guns kill things. It doesn’t really matter what the bullet is made out of. Wolfsbane will do the exact same thing to a shifter as it does a human. Don’t you know wolfsbane is incredibly poisonous? Just touching the stuff can kill a mundane, let alone a werewolf. Don’t be the idiot who goes touching deadly flowers because of a myth.

If you want to keep a were from transforming, slapping a collar made of copper and rowan branches will do the trick. It’s how cops ‘subdue’ shifters in Moressau. Why rowan? Who knows. Same reason vampires hate it, probably. It’ll irritate the crap out of a were, like itching powder, but it doesn’t really hurt. Copper disrupts transformation magic, but only when combined with rowan, and only when directly touching a shifter’s skin. That one’s easier to explain. Magic and copper don’t mesh well. Rowan amplifies it against shifters.

VAMPIRES

If your entire reason for coming to Moressau is to meet a vampire then I have two questions for you: What the hell is wrong with you, and why bother coming here at all? Statistically, there is at least one vampire in or near where you live now. Go find them. They’ll probably jump at the chance to drink your blood, if that’s your thing. You don’t need to travel for it. The only reason you should be visiting Moressau when it comes to vampires is their nightlife.

How to Spot a Vampire Let’s get something straight right now. Vampires don’t sparkle. They aren’t incredibly pale. They aren’t indestructible. A freshly-fed vampire isn’t much different from a human, actually. They’re warm to the touch - never hot - and no paler than the average person. The only thing they’re missing is a heartbeat.

That said, there are some tell-tale signs that you’re talking to a vampire. Their fangs don’t do that stupid retraction thing like some movies claim. You’ll see them as soon as a vamp opens their mouth. A vampire’s eyes don’t glow, they aren’t blood red, they’re just eyes. But they’ll shine in the passing light of a car or a camera flash, that’s for sure. Most supernaturals have that little quirk. Lastly, vampires lack both a shadow and a reflection.

A vampire who hasn’t fed in a few days will have a chill to them like any other dead body. But a hungry vampire is faster, stronger, and much easier to piss off. And a really hungry vampire might just turn feral on you. Trust me when I say you never want to meet a feral vampire. They don’t have enough reason left to leave you alive when they’re done.

Where to Find a Vampire Typically, vampires can only come out at night. They tend to burn to a crisp in half an hour if they’re exposed to full sunlight. It’s not a pretty sight. Luckily for the vampires of Moressau, the sun only comes out about 30 days of the year, so they can be out at nearly any time of day.. Most of them keep to the night hours out of habit, being nocturnal creatures. They also tend to hang out in the Midnight Quarter. There are some vampires who’ve lived there since the city was founded, and if you’re looking for night life then the Midnight Quarter is exactly where you want to be. Don’t be surprised by what you might see in a back alley there. The city’s feeding regulations are only really enforced when the police department feels that vampires are getting a little too comfortable. There are ‘authorized’ parlors for safe feeding in multiple parts of the city, but it’s only in the Midnight Quarter that vampires feel safe enough to feed out in the open.

Not all vampire parlors and clubs are dangerous. Just some of them. Club Nomad caters primarily to vampires, but they’ll welcome anyone looking for a night out. The bouncers there are better than most about keeping an eye out for trouble. If you want exclusivity, then L’Sourire en Sang run by the Société de Keres is as old and exclusive as you can get. They’re pretty strict about who they let in - mundane and vampire both - but I’ve heard that almost every human visitor leaves alive. Or occasionally undead.

Last but not least, there’s Cameo. It hasn’t been around very long, but it’s already pissed off all the old and moldy vampires in the city so it has my vote of confidence. I heard it’s run by a new coalition in town called the Strix Assembly, and they’re very concerned about keeping their bloodbags alive and well. Pampered, even. They don’t mind the occasional shifter drifting through, either.

Finding Good Mosquito Repellent Vampires might be some of the deadliest supernaturals out there, but there are some tried and true ways to keep them off your neck.

First, sunlight. We’ve covered this. Keep up.

Second, rowan wood. I don’t know what it is about rowan specifically, but it’ll burn any vampire who touches it. They hate the smell of it too, if you’re in the market for new cologne.

Vampires have an aversion to garlic, but it’s not going to stop a determined one. Pepper spray is useful if you can make a quick getaway. Don’t bother with religious iconography or silver unless you want to be laughed at before you die.

And finally... most vampires are just like everyone else. Common sense and a nice attitude will go a long way. If you wouldn’t go around insulting Joe Schmoe, don’t go around insulting a vampire just because you can, either.

WITCHES

Before you go getting all sad because I’m telling you just how dangerous all the ‘fun‘ parts of Moressau are, just let me finish. Because as scary as shapeshifters and vampires can be, witches are so much worse. You’ll never a know a witch is standing in front of you. Not until you piss them off and they curse you for it. At least a vampire has the courtesy to show their fangs before they fuck you up.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let me debunk some more stereotypes about witches. Some of them wear pointy hats, but so do a lot of mundanes. You can’t judge someone by their aesthetic. Even if it’s a stupid one. If they are actively channeling magic, a witch’s eyes will glow. It’s a soft light, like a glowstick. There’s no specific glow color for ‘evil’ witches, but the color is unique to each individual. A witch also tends to smell like the air before a storm when casting. Petrichor, some call it. That’s the smell of magic in general. Depending on how much magic is used, the smell can linger for a while too. But it’s really weird to go around sniffing people, FYI.

Finding a Good Witch Shop Most witch-run businesses in Moressau prefer to call themselves apothecaries or mysticaries. ‘Magic Shop’ sounds like a place full of gag gifts and card tricks. The good apothecaries are usually run by a single person or small coven. Anything with multiple locations or run by the Maer-Rigan Coven is going to charge you out the nose for something even an infanct could mix up. Maer-Rigan runs Heron’s Compass and Satyr’s Step in the Old Downtown, so steer clear of those. It’s better to avoid Hag’s Eye Apothecary and Honey & Sage while you’re at it, too. They aren’t Maer-Rigan run, but they’re way too pricey and their products are weak.

If you want a really good mysticary shop, check out Whitehart Apothecary near the Old Docks. Their prices are fair, and the witches who run it are a riot. They’ll even check you for errant curses, if you ask nicely. Breaking curses will cost you, though. Some other options are Lazy Gull and Black Fin & Feather, both found near the Boardwalk. Black Fin & Feather is perfect for all you goth-y, creepy folk. And Lazy Gull recently opened a coffee bar, so you can get your enchanted drinks on-the-go. Just make sure to tip well, or they might add something unpleasant in there too.

MAGIC AND MORE

There’s one thing I can say about Moressau that is unequivocally positive: it really is the most magical place in America. And I mean that literally. There may be other places with a longer history of magic use, but Moressau was built and rebuilt with the help of magic, and you can feel it. The city is alive with it. Be good to the city, and the city will be good to you. That’s our motto. That’s why most of us still stick around, even with the constant rain and cold. And the danger. We love this city. And it loves us back.

Now that I‘ve gotten a little sappy, let’s get back to business. Most of the newer parts of the city - really anything less than 50 years old - haven’t had time for the city’s magic to sink in. So if you’re scared of the idea that a city is alive, stick to them. They aren’t really alive yet. The oldest parts like the Boardwalk and Old Downtown are where you can feel the magic heartbeat of Moressau. You’ve got to stand still, and tune out the city noise, and then you can feel it. But since this is Moressau, standing in the middle of a busy public area and spacing out is dangerous, so bring a buddy if you want to try this.

Never, ever go below the city streets. It might sound cool to check out the ‘Buried City’, but the magic down there is different. Older. Woven into the ground by smugglers and people who didn’t want to be found. It doesn’t matter how well you’ve prepared, or how good your sense of direction is. Ten minutes down there and you won’t know up from down. There are people who manage to live down there, but don’t ask me how they do it. You probably don’t want to meet them, either.

If you’re a magic user, make sure you’re prepared for the side effects magic tends to experience here. I’ve been told magic has a stronger will in Moressau and takes more effort to channel. It also tends to take on a mind of its own and react in ways you wouldn’t expect. It’s nothing off-the-walls crazy, but it’s definitely something to keep in mind. Or else your protection spell might become a ‘knock everyone three feet back if they dare touch you’ spell. It’s only funny for the first twenty minutes.

Shapeshifter taglist: @sunset-a-story @touloserlautrec

#wip: shapeshifter #The Idiot's Guide to Moressau #lots of fun little tidbits and easter eggs in here #this was fun

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