#HE SET SHORT KING RIGHTS BACK BY DECADES

[hussyknee]

I just made a noise like a dying seal and scared my cat.

my fav letterboxd reviews of red white & royal blue aka yaoi for white liberals

[biblicallyaccuratecrow]

in stars and time "method actor" au braindump

the people have spoken! welcome to the method actor au! in which i took the theatre themes of isat and stretched them to their absolute limit!

the premise is that instead of saving vaugarde, the party + major side characters (the king and euphrasie) are an acting troop! and they're telling the story of the saviors through a play. Siffrin is playing The Traveller, and over time in rehearsals has really grown to like his castmates (even the one playing the king- he's actually quite sweet!).

it's the opening night! they're more than prepared for the show!

... until they aren't.

All it takes is a faulty prop from the fly tower, and suddenly siffrin is right back where they started the day before, waking up from a nap in the greenroom before the last rehearsal.

they're back at the beginning. they get a second chance.

after all, you only get one opening night, and siffrin is determined to make it perfect.

...all they need to do is make sure the show goes smoothly!

no stage hazards,

no missed lines,

no injuries,

no deaths,

no mistakes.

and if they have to play the hero to do it?

if the lines between them and their character have to blur so that their parts are perfect?

so be it.

the show must go on.

[notes below the cut!]

[spoilers for isat below!]

so yeah, siffrin takes the term "method acting" way too seriously. out of necessity, though. this is a performance, after all! they have to keep it together for the show, and the best way to do that for them is to embrace their role.

setting

still takes place in vaugarde! except yknow. the king isn't actually happening (yet), so instead of a group of saviors we have the acting group playing the saviors! a bit meta, but it works.

craft and the island still are a thing, and play a major part in the overarching story! this is still a time loop, after all!

all of this is taking place on a stage within dormont's house of change! Euphrasie sponsors, and was more than happy to be included for her very short role! The theatre there has been out of use for decades, but Euphrasie sees it fit to resurrect it just for this show!

The party:

Mirabelle is the playwright, having dreamed up a story like the books she loves to read but for the longest time being too afraid to put it down. Euphrasie encouraged her to go through with it, and they've been building the show ever since! she thinks she isn't a good actor, but she's actually very empathetic as the heroine, since she (secretly) based it off herself.

Isabeau was actually the first to audition- and the only one, at least in the first round. He came in last-minute, and after delivering a solid monologue (with a few puns slipped in), Mirabelle was eager to cast him! He actually loves costume design, but he doesn't dare to reveal this to the party, even if he occasionally spends hours in the House's storage room looking through pieces from older performances.

Odile was a surprising addition to the cast. She was interested in Vaugardian tradition, and figured the best way to learn was through the epicenter of vaugardian culture, at a house. She reccomended some plays to mirabelle from her travels, and after giving some pointers on mirabelle's early scripts decided to join in for the hell of it. She likes horror productions in particular, and contributed a lot to the concept of the king's time craft.

Siffrin was visiting the house, and came to see one of the plays... but got the time wrong and came in during a live-reading of the scripts early draft. he stood and watched for a bit before mirabelle noticed, and after a LOT of fumbling and apologies admitted that he loves theatre. Mirabelle practically dragged him in after that. Given that he didn't have anything else to do, he agreed. Despite claiming he's not much of an actor, much preferring to work on the set design, he's actually uncannily good...

The King is... just a guy, actually! very quiet, very reclusive, but after seeing one of mirabelle's casting calls came in and absolutely smashed the audition. he's been with the group ever since! he's pretty busy outside of the production, but he puts his all into his work! He and siffrin have a kind of kinship, given their shared elusive background and... white hair, i guess.

Bonnie is the younger sister of Nille, who worked on trade classes at dormonts house after the two left Bambouche together. Mirabelle needed someone to help make the sets, and Nille volunteered early on in the production, so long as she could bring Bonnie along. Initially Bonnie wasn't all that interested, but after hanging around the cast a bit grew curious. Siffrin caught them reading through one of the scripts and acting out the various parts on their own. After that, Mirabelle made the time to write in The Kid for Bonnie to have a role thats easiest for them! Fun fact- a lot of The Kid's lines are actually ad libs from Bonnie throughout the production. Mirabelle kept writing them into the script as a sort of inside joke.

Euphrasie is mostly the same! As the head housemaiden, she's had a bit of experience with public speaking and acting, and after seeing Mirabelle having such fun she allowed herself to be roped into a small role as The Head Housemaiden in the production.

the story...

Siffrin's first death is actually to a prop rock falling on top of them. When they wake up, they're back in the green room, waking up from a nap. Isa is out by the favor tree as usual, odile is buying food for the cast party, mira is pouring over her dating profiles disguised as her script, and bonnie is hanging out in the auditorium.

Of course, at the favor tree after the first death is loop. They immediately cast siffrin as the "new director", and from there basically acts much the same as in canon, though a lot of the "memories" are slight improvements to siffrin's acting or the set props.

so, despite all their preparation, the performance keeps getting interrupted in increasingly more and more bizarre ways. A strange array of stage accidents, usually resulting in siffrin's death. They initially suspect that the show is cursed (theyre not that far off), and start to dig into how that could happen. this is where the idea of wishcraft gets introduced. The King seems the most likely to be highjacking the show, but siffrin doesn't want to believe it.

As siffrin performs show after show, things start to get... weirder, somehow. Like the performance is becoming more real with each passing loop. This doesn't just extend to the set, but also to siffrin themself. The line between them and the traveller blurs. As they learn more about wishcraft and the forgotten island, they project this into the story and their performances, and even off set will take mannerisms from the traveller role and use them to brush off the party's concerns.

in later acts, the rest of the cast begins to blur with their own respective characters, to the point that siffrin starts to become irrationally aggressive towards the king, somehow believing him to be responsible. Loop does their best to keep siffrin's handle on reality in tact, but by act 4 they're essentially living out the play. there is no distinction between reality and mirabelle's script- it's all one thing. And the wish makes that true during the performances as well, in ways that even the party can notice- ghosts on the stage, reality warping because of props, even randomly improved sets and staging. The further siffrin descends, the stronger the wish's influence over the performance and their reality grows. by act 5, the wishcraft has transformed the house to reflect that of the play, and everyone to be their characters- or be frozen, as a captive audience. the rest happens similarly to how it does in canon.

the real crux of the issue, like in canon, is that siffrin made a wish. They love their cast, and they love their performance. They want it to stay like that. They want to stay with them. And so they wish at Dormont's favor tree. And it comes true, in the best way the universe can manage- by making it so that the performance never ends. The actual hazards of the set are real- Dormont's theatre is borderline decrepit- but once the wish craft begins to influence things, they become more serious.

i initially had the idea that maybe during the first loop the story becomes real, like what we see in canon, and siffrin is reacting to the actual characters as a literal actor, but i like the idea of the party playing their SASASA counterparts as more base/easily digestible protagonist versions of themselves more. plus like, the idea of it all being literally on a stage is too fun for me

the hilarious thing is, in my mind... the audience wouldn't know that wasnt the intention for the play. in their pov they saw this shit being acted out and not the absolute wacked out acid trip the party saw while on stage. it's an instant success, though the entire party agrees to never put on the show again.

thats about all i got so far? dunno if i'll actually write anything for this, and if i do it'll probably be a one shot or two. but if youre interested in more info abt the au, or just wanna chat about it, feel free!

until next time!

[ligiawrites]

Your life as an alchemist has been safe and comfortable so far... but when your sister makes you one last wish before passing away, you'll embark on a dangerous journey that might change your life—and the lives of your two companions—forever.

game link || all about the dev

YOUR SISTER HAS CARRIED the mantle of "Peregrine" for more than two decades. Twelve years older than you, she saw and wrote about the lives of common people, the birth and fall of foreign noble houses, the discovery of plants and animals, and the complex politics of your home kingdom. She lived a life of dangers and excitement, of travels, passions, and experiences you can't even begin to imagine.

And now that she's dead, this mantle (and her newborn child) is yours. 

Ghosts, zombies, fantastic animals, arcanes, and criminals. Fool the monster hunting you, the bandits trying to kidnap you, and your own fears while you travel from South Safira to the very heart of Dead Water.

Thank Goddess, you won't be alone. But with a conniving liar at your left and a deluded "Knight" at your right, will you be able to fulfill your sister's last wish? Will you go back to your niece? And will you allow yourself to love for the first time?

Develop your personality, see how your choices build, and change your bond with Yulie and Tobias (and yourself).

Hopefully, you'll also learn to see the world in a new light after this Trek to Dead Water.

🍂 Full game release: Autumn 2025 🍂

If you want to support the development of this game and access exclusive rewards, please consider supporting me on ko-fi!

About the game:

This story is set 53 years before the beginning of Love the Guard, Be the King.

Experience the world of Five Kingdoms in a completely different way, learning the hidden lore of Opala and Safira as one of the most influential (and non-highborn) figures in their society.

This is a game about the power of story, the powers that *change* history, and the impact that fleeting relationships may have in our lives. Enjoy this mix of Visual Novel and text-based Interactive Fiction!

This short game will have three chapters, and I have almost half of it already. :) Right now, you can play one out of three chapters (~9k words), and they are only available for my supporters on ko-fi. 

So, if you're seeing this, thank you for being amazing and for believing in my career! :)

If you have any comments, suggestions, problems, or worries, please let me know on ko-fi or in this forum.

AGE SUGGESTED: 16+ for erotic nudity, non-explicit sexual scenes, and mild violence and gore.

Main Characters:

Yulie of No House - The deluded "Knight" - 27 - She / Her

Born in Safira to a Topazian ambassador and a Safiran barman, Yulie saw her world crumble when she was six and a half, and her mother dared to question the Safiran nobility's interference in Topazian politics. Queen Juliana of House Inara did her best to protect Yulie's life, but there was little the Queen could do for her parents.

Stripped of her family and her surname, she lived under the Queen's care in a secretive palacete in the South, but as soon as she turned fourteen, Yulie knew she needed to leave the care of the people who ruined her life.

Now, at twenty-seven, Yulie's dream and main objective is to become a Knight of the Opalean Dragon Order—but focusing on this might be way harder than she thought, mainly when she manages to hold certain Safiran Peregrine in her arms.

Tobias Cidreira Dasherner - The Conniving Liar- 29 - He / Him

Tobias is a trans man born and raised in the biggest capital of Safira. With an immense talent for the Arcane, Tobias was taken under the wing of Great Arcane Master Domingos of Safira when he was only five. 

The Arcane College of the Balanced Arts is an expensive place, though, and despite the Arcane's great fortune, Tobias changed over the years. Once studious and quiet, Tobias grew tired of the absurd rules in the Safiran College and the kingdom's abusive laws. He tried to do good. He tried to change things for the better. Still, thanks to a grave mistake on Tobias's part, the Great Domingos lost everything.

Now, the only thing Tobias wants is to make enough money for the greatest con of all: a nice tavern of his own, so he can recover at least part of the money his old master lost.

… And YOU! - The newest Peregrine in Safira

Child of a long line of alchemists who lived their whole lives in The Village, you never felt the need to travel. Your sister did, so it felt just and good (for you and for her) when she was chosen as the new Safiran Peregrine. But this happened twenty-three years ago, and now she's dead after giving birth to your first niece.

Your task (for more than one reason) is to travel to the dangerous Dead Water, so your sister's soul will finally rest and stop coming back to haunt you.

Build your Peregrine and your relationship with your companions, and discover the hidden history that brought you to this point.

[badboydevotee]

Beneath the Glitter

"Today is my birthday, so you're dining in style. I'm not going to eat any though, so you can finish it off." -Fico's birthday voiceline.

The restaurant was as extravagant as it was exclusive—a gleaming beacon of opulence nestled among the glittering skyscrapers. Its walls were adorned with velvet drapes and the air was filled with the gentle hum of classical music, the subtle clink of silverware, and the rustle of hushed conversations. Outside, the city glittered under the fading light of dusk, but inside, it was a world of indulgence, where the rich and powerful gathered to feast, to gossip, to flaunt their successes. You sat across from him, your heart a tangled mess of confusion and hesitation, unsure of what to make of the invitation. Romeo Scorpius Lucci, the man who oozed wealth and arrogance with every step he took, had asked you to join him for dinner. On his birthday, no less. But there was something unsettling about it—something you couldn’t quite place. His gaze was sharp, his posture immaculate, but his lips were pressed into a thin, cruel line. 

You had known Romeo for a while now, ever since you had crossed paths at the casino. He was a man of sharp edges, a man whose temper could ignite the room with a mere glance. It wasn’t hard to hear the stories—the whispers about how he had once been the crowned king of the fashion world, only to watch it crumble down to dust, and how he had clawed his way back from that fall with a vengeance. Everything about him screamed ambition and control, but today… today, he was different. The usual fire in his magenta eyes was muted, replaced by something unreadable.

He took a sip from his glass of wine, his lips curling slightly as he glanced at you, still silent. His hair, perfectly styled with the right side falling slightly longer than the left, caught the light from the chandelier above. The tips of his short gray hair darkened almost imperceptibly as it cascaded over his earring—each one a solid gold hoop, gleaming as brightly as the man himself. Despite the tension in the air, he looked… untouchable. Beautiful, even, though you’d never admit that to his face.

“This is a fine dining experience, BB” he said, his voice low but sharp, like the edge of a well-honed blade. “They’ve prepared a special tasting menu just for us.”

His tone held a hint of something else—something strange, like a thin layer of ice coating his usual arrogance. As he looked down at the elegant table setting, his red eyes—darker now in the dim lighting—flashed with irritation. You knew better than to speak when he was in one of these moods, especially when his temper seemed so volatile.

“It’s too bad you don’t have any appetite for the finer things in life,” you said softly, hoping to ease the tension in the room, to break through the wall he’d built around himself.

Romeo chuckled darkly, his lips curling into a wry smile. His voice came out clipped and almost condescending, like he was humoring you—one of the few things he ever did with genuine attention.

“Today is my birthday,” he declared, the words sharp and almost bitter as they passed his lips. “So you’re dining in style. I’m not going to eat any of it, though,” he added, leaning back in his chair with a languid stretch. His fingers grazed his gold earring absentmindedly, a habitual gesture that you’d seen him do countless times before. It was almost like he needed it to remind him that he was still in control. “You can finish it off.”

A part of you wanted to protest. You knew how meticulously Romeo valued every detail, every ounce of luxury and decadence. To see him not even touch the food—food that had been specially prepared—felt… wrong. But it wasn’t your place to question him. Not now. Not when his presence was so overwhelming, like the dark storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

The waiter approached, setting down a series of dishes one after the other: delicate amuse-bouches, perfectly seared foie gras, intricately arranged seafood towers, and the main course—a tender cut of wagyu beef, its rich aroma drifting through the air. It was a meal fit for royalty, but Romeo, true to his word, didn't so much as glance at it.

You stared at the plate before you, the warm light of the candles reflecting off the fine porcelain. The aroma of the food was intoxicating. It was rich, indulgent, everything he loved. Yet, there he sat, staring at his glass of wine, as if lost in thought, as if the celebration wasn’t for him at all.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Romeo said, breaking the silence, his voice now sharp with a hint of something deeper. “I’m not here to enjoy this. I have no time for pleasure when I’ve got more important things to attend to.”

You raised an eyebrow, a fleeting moment of disbelief washing over you. His obsession with money and status had always been something you’d never fully understood. But this… this felt like more. There was something in his eyes now, a flicker of vulnerability that he desperately tried to mask with that familiar sharpness, with the cold indifference that kept everyone at arm’s length.

His fingers drummed impatiently on the table, the sound of his rings against the fine wood the only noise in the otherwise still room. It was then that you realized the truth: this wasn’t a simple birthday dinner. He was fighting something. Fighting it in a way that was both desperate and painfully obvious.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you said quietly, pushing aside the delicate silver fork, suddenly aware of how strange the situation was. You’d never seen Romeo act like this before. He was always so in control, so driven by his insatiable hunger for success and wealth.

Romeo’s eyes flicked to you, his magenta irises flashing dangerously. His hand shot out, his fingers tightening around your wrist as he leaned forward, his voice low and unyielding. “You think I’m doing this for you? For anyone?” He let out a short, derisive laugh. “No. I’m doing this because I can. Because I have to.”

You didn’t pull away from his grip. It was firm, a reminder of how tightly he held everything in his life—his empire, his ambitions, even his emotions. You could see the strain in his jaw, the barely concealed rage flickering in the depths of his gaze.

“You can’t outrun your past, Fico,” you said softly, using the nickname he’d always insisted on. “You can’t keep punishing yourself like this. You deserve to enjoy something—just once.”

Romeo’s expression faltered, just for a second. It was as though your words had pierced through that armor of pride and defiance. His grip on your wrist loosened, and for a brief, almost imperceptible moment, the walls around him seemed to crack.

“I’m not like you,” he muttered, a rare admission slipping from his lips. “I can’t afford to be.”

You reached out, gently taking his hand. The warmth of your touch seemed to ground him in a way that nothing else had been able to. His eyes met yours, and for once, he didn’t look away, didn’t snap, didn’t rage. He simply stared, as if weighing the unspoken connection between the two of you.

“Maybe you can,” you said quietly, your voice a soft whisper in the midst of all the grandeur and extravagance. “Maybe you just need to let someone in.”

The air between you seemed to hum with something unspoken. He exhaled sharply, as if the weight of everything was momentarily too much to bear. For the first time in ages, Romeo Scorpius Lucci didn’t seem like the cold, calculating man who’d clawed his way to the top.

For a fleeting moment, he simply looked… human. And in that moment, something shifted between you both.

With a slow, almost reluctant movement, he picked up his fork, piercing a delicate slice of wagyu, before setting it back down with a soft sigh.

“Fine,” he muttered, his usual arrogance slipping back into his voice. “I’ll have a bite. But only because it’s my damn birthday.”

And for the first time that evening, you both shared a genuine laugh.

You couldn’t help but smile as Romeo finally took a bite of the wagyu, his eyes momentarily closing in appreciation. It wasn’t much—a small victory—but it was something. It was a crack in the armor, a rare moment where the walls around him seemed to crumble, just a little. And as he chewed slowly, his usual sharp gaze softened ever so slightly.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” you said, teasing him gently as you picked up your own fork. You couldn’t resist—he might be insufferable at times, but there was something undeniably magnetic about him. His stubbornness, his pride, even his scornful nature—everything about him was a puzzle that you couldn’t seem to put down.

Romeo's lips curled into that familiar smirk, but it was different now—less biting, more amused, like he was letting you in on some private joke only he understood.

“I’m not the one who’s impossible here,” he shot back, his tone still sharp but with a hint of warmth underneath. He leaned back in his chair, looking at you as though he were sizing you up, like you were the most intriguing thing in the room, despite the luxury that surrounded you both. His gaze lingered longer than it should have, as though he were trying to figure out why you, of all people, had the ability to disarm him so effortlessly.

You tilted your head, studying him in return. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him so vulnerable, but it was the first time he’d let you see it without the walls of anger and pride. For all his bluster, Romeo was a man driven by a hunger that went deeper than money or power—it was something else. Something raw. Something broken.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Fico,” you said, leaning in slightly, your voice low and steady. “But you don’t have to keep pretending you’re some perfect machine, only running on fuel and ambition. You’re allowed to—”

“Stop.” He raised a hand, his voice firm but not hostile. There was a slight tremor in his fingers, a hint of something beneath the surface. "I don’t *need* anyone’s pity or concern."

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the defensiveness in his tone. “I’m not offering either of those. Just... maybe a little bit of understanding. Maybe I’m the one who’s trying to figure out the puzzle.”

Romeo stared at you, his magenta eyes gleaming in the low light, and for a moment, the world outside the restaurant seemed to fall away. It was just the two of you, in this little bubble of rich, warm air, surrounded by fine dining and too many untold stories.

“I don’t need understanding,” he muttered, though there was a softness to his words that didn’t match his usual fire. “I just need what’s mine. What’s owed to me.”

You nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in his words. His relentless pursuit of what he had lost was something you couldn’t ignore. The dreams of grandeur that haunted him. You could see it now, clearer than before—the weight that crushed him. It wasn’t just about money, not really. It was about power, control, and reclaiming something he had once thought was within his grasp, only to watch it slip away.

"Then I guess that makes two of us," you said quietly, and for a second, you wondered if he understood the subtle implication.

Romeo didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took another bite of the food, his lips pressing into a thin line as he chewed thoughtfully. His magenta eyes flicked up to meet yours once more, the tension between you thickening as the air seemed to charge with something unspoken.

“I’m not someone you should get close to, you know,” he finally said, his voice low and earnest, a trace of something vulnerable creeping into his tone. "I’m not the kind of person who lets anyone in."

You knew that already. You knew that better than anyone else. But you also knew something he didn’t seem to realize—that sometimes, letting someone in wasn’t about fixing the broken parts. Sometimes, it was just about *being* there, without the expectation of anything in return.

“And yet, here we are,” you said softly, offering him a wry smile. “Maybe you don’t have to let me in. Maybe I’m just here for the ride.”

For a moment, Romeo’s gaze flickered, like he was deciding whether to laugh or argue. Instead, he simply looked at you—really looked at you—and the tension between you seemed to soften, just a fraction. The walls that had always been so solid around him were starting to bend. You weren’t sure if they’d ever come down completely, but for now, this—this strange, tentative truce—was enough.

Romeo took another sip of wine, his posture returning to something more casual, almost like he was letting go of some of the weight that had been pressing down on him all evening. His magenta eyes softened, not in affection, but in a quiet understanding that he didn’t need to push you away. Not yet, at least.

“So,” he said, his voice returning to its usual cocky tone, “this is a fine meal, but I expect you to finish it all. It’s my birthday, after all. And I do have a reputation to maintain.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused despite yourself. "You *really* are impossible," you muttered, but there was a smile tugging at your lips that you couldn’t quite suppress.

Romeo’s lips quirked into a smirk, his eyes glinting mischievously. “You’ll get used to it. Eventually.”

And just like that, the moment passed, and the two of you fell back into the dance you knew all too well—his sharp remarks and your knowing smiles, the ever-present tension between you both. But now, there was something else there too. A hint of understanding. A crack in his façade. 

Maybe he didn’t need to admit it out loud. But for once, Romeo Scorpius Lucci wasn’t the terrifying, untouchable man he always tried to be. And maybe—just maybe—neither were you.

The rest of the evening passed in a strange, comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional teasing remark, the clinking of silverware, and the soft sound of laughter that lingered between you both. And for once, the glistening city outside didn’t feel so far away.

It felt, for the first time in a long time, like it was within reach.

Ao3 vers.

Please love Romi <3

[catsafarithewriter]

A/N: Many thanks goes out to the ever-wonderful @tcrmommabear for triggering the thought of the Cat King and Natori shipping Haru/Baron as hard as they'd once shipped Haru/Lune. Unfortunately for Haru, they only have one solution for romantic woes. So here's a very silly, very short ficlet.

.

Claudius Rex, the once Cat King (their most wise and magnificent ruler, the king of Cat Kingdom), and reason why Haru nearly spent the rest of her life with whiskers and a tail, sat on the windowsill and mulled over Haru's love life.

(She hadn't asked him to, hadn't even known he was coming until that fine spring morning, a decade after their first encounter, when she'd opened her curtains and nearly punted ex-royalty from a sixteenth-floor window.)

The once Cat King (Claudius, he'd insisted Haru call him) considered the dilemma of a mortal falling in love with a Creation with all its due gravitas, and finally said, "Do you think he doesn't love you because you're not a cat?"

"I – no??"

"Oh. Shame." The ex-king looked to Natori. "We could've fixed that."

"It appears not every love conundrum can be rectified with felinity," Natori said wisely.

"What other love conundrum did you fix this way?" Haru asked.

Both cats looked at her. Claudius leant over to Natori. "This is the babe we set up with my son?"

"It appears she is suffering from some kind of memory lapse," Natori stage-whispered back.

"Turning me into a cat helped with nothing!" Haru cried. "Lune married Yuki, remember?"

"Ah yes," Natori said, "but if you had been willing to marry the prince, then we simplified matters for you."

"Not being a cat was your main problem, you said."

Haru vaguely remembered saying a lot of things to get out of the unexpected marriage, and the different species had been only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. "You can't fix every problem by turning someone into a cat! And, anyway, the Creation part is the main problem."

Claudius was silent. Then, "So what I'm hearing is if we turned you into a cat Creation–"

"Nope. Stop that. Right now."

"What about the Creation?" Natori asked. "What if we changed him?"

"I... wait, you could do that?"

"We could turn him more into a cat."

"How would that help anything?!"

"If we then turned you into a cat—"

"Under no circumstances," Haru said slowly, "are you to try to help me by turning anyone into a cat." She hesitated, and then added, for good measure, "Or any species in general. Not even a cat Creation– wait, is that even possible?"

"Half of it is," Natori said cheerfully.

Haru groaned. "I don't know why I even asked."

[perseidlion]

How the Cat King Got His Groove Back (Ongoing, soft E)

The sky over Port Townsend was slate gray as it often was for weeks on end in the winter. The air was damp and heavy, with the ocean breeze cutting right through even the warmest jackets. Winter was usually free of snow in the Pacific Northwest, but the endless stretch of gray and drizzle was just as depressing as any deep blanket of snow. Perhaps moreso, because at least in snowy climes, the sun occasionally came out to play. 

The Cat King’s cannery was drafty and cold. Even his loyal subjects had abandoned him for spots beneath houses and under staircases where they huddled together for warmth.

It had been about a month since the Dead Boy Detectives had come to town and stirred up everything like a whirlwind. Cat had felt more energized than he had in decades, and not just because one of said detectives was curiously handsome and fascinating. 

But in their wake, they’d left an eerie calm. Their time in town had been short, but they had a reputation for a reason. They’d solved nearly a dozen cases, small and large in their short time. Some of the cases had been outstanding for decades. They’d also vanquished Esther Finch, the powerful and vain witch who had been causing trouble in town longer than the Cat King had ruled. 

Esther was a scourge who crossed lines even some of the darkest creatures would not. Plus, she’d beaten him to death with her cane, taking one of his precious lives in the process. Which was just…so rude.  Cat would be lying if he said he didn’t miss her a little - if only for the chaos she brought. She was a piece of shit, but she was a piece of shit who kept life interesting. 

And things were just so…quiet without her particular brand of chaos. 

And without him.

Cat stretched his toes out and off the edge of the stack of palettes that served as his throne. He was draped in a heavy black fur coat to try and hold back the chill. When he exhaled a deep-chested sigh, his breath condensed like cigarette smoke. 

He felt numb. He knew he should get up and at least use his magic to kindle a fire in an oil drum or envelop himself in a protective haze of magic. But the cold that pricked his skin and the draft that trickled between the fur of his coat at least let him feel something. He’d been considering the possibility of moving for a good long while, but couldn’t will his limbs to do more than shift a bit to make sure his body was covered by his coat. 

Cat would swear up and down that he was an independent creature, one who went where he pleased and made love to whoever he liked. But the truth was, he was a profoundly lonely creature who covered up that loneliness with tricks and flirtations. 

He wasn’t fully a cat. When he transformed into his feline form to join the feral colony of Port Townsend, they all knew it was him. They treated him with deference and respect, but they also othered him. He could be human whenever he wanted, which set him apart even more than his position.

Cat wasn’t fully human, either. To the residents of Port Townsend, he was known as the town’s slutty weirdo who was always followed by feral cats. They were used to him by now, but just because they didn’t hassle him didn’t mean he was one of them. His dual form meant he was trapped between two worlds, only really at home with other creatures who had a foot in both worlds. And most of them, he’d already alienated or had some sort of beef with - or were just not creatures whose company he found entertaining. The result was, he didn’t really have any friends in town to speak of, which only added to his loneliness. 

Finally, Cat got up the energy to drag himself to his feet. He took a series of lazy, heavy steps down off the platform, his fur coat dragging along the dirty ground. As he walked aimlessly through the warehouse, he chased echoes of memories. 

First, he passed the stain of blood on the ground where his previous body had been beaten to death by Esther. The reminder of that pain made him wince involuntarily. But then he saw echoes of Edwin when he caught the first hints of lust in his eyes, followed by the indignant British snark of him protesting his punishment. He closed his eyes and remembered what a pair of ghostly lips brushing his cheeks felt like when Edwin came to say goodbye. 

Cat turned and caught his reflection in an old, half-broken mirror propped against one wall and partially covered by a dropcloth. Slowly, he turned to face the mirror head-on. He lifted a hand to summon his magic, paused, rethinking it for half a moment, then he swirled his wrist.

The purple fog that accompanied his transformations with an affectation - a magician’s trick to make the whole thing seem more impressive. His magic in its natural state was subtle and quiet, as befitted a creature of stealth. The shift to his body happened in a blink. 

Edwin’s reflection stared back at him from the mirror, one hand still held delicately in the air, clad in a brown leather glove that matched his brown overcoat. He was a perfect copy, save golden, slitted eyes. He stepped up to the mirror and swept the gloved hand across the surface to clear it of some of the dust. Then he tugged off his glove and caressed his own cheek. He closed his eyes and let his fingertips creep over his lips. He nuzzled his own palm and exhaled warm breath against his fingertips.

When Cat opened his eyes, it was Edwin’s green eyes gazing back at him. Edwin’s face full of sadness and longing. Edwin’s face aching with loneliness. He pulled off the other glove and held his own hand, tracing knuckles and fingertips. He held his own hand and squeezed it. 

Keep reading on Ao3

(This fic was originally a short called Ennui that just consisted of the first chapter. Now it's an ongoing fic with shapeshifting shenanigans and some light Catcrow elements, though the shapeshifting/identity swap stuff is the focus over the ship.)

[yesbutmakeitgay]

Lifelines Intertwined

Chapter 6

Valkyrie x Reader

Summary: It's not the end, but the beginning.

Word count: 1.2k

Soulmates, Slow burn, Angst.

A/N: Last chapter, let's go!

Masterlist | This Series Masterlist | AO3

When All The Stars Align

It’s late at night and The King is on her way back to her quarters after a long workday. As she’s walking down the hallway, she spots her favorite girl guarding the barracks from the window. She stutters on her feet trying to decide what to do, until she convinces herself to stop by.

You become aware of the footsteps coming behind you a mile away, but choose to ignore them and remain looking straight ahead. A few seconds later, your body grows rigid at the unmistakable sound of ten-inch, commanding boots.

Now you purposely ignore the steps as you brace yourself for whatever is about to come.

You hear the boots stop a few inches away, followed by soft cotton being draped over your back, "It’s cold," Valkyrie whispers, walking around you and sitting by your side. You only eye her quickly before going back to your job.

You sit in silence trying to ignore her presence and focus on your duties, unable to even bother to be angry at this point. It’s her Kingdom, if she wants to sit on the exact bench you’re sitting, you suppose she has every right to.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," she says after swallowing a lump in her throat, you don’t have the emotional energy to read into it.

"Me too." Her heartbeat races at the infinite possibilities and gestures for you to continue, "The General has been allowing the troops to let their guard down, I don’t know why, but it could be fatal for the Kingdom if they continue on this way," you finally look at her with a stern expression, "he completely disregarded me when I tried to bring it up." You don’t mean to rat him out, you just want The King to be aware of the danger.

Valkyrie’s look turns guilty as she clears her throat, thinking of the best way to tell you, "The Marvels stopped the attack before it left Hala."

"Oh," you respond involuntarily, irritation quickly setting into you as you start to analyze the timeline of events. "When?"

"Eight days ago," she admits after a beat.

"I could have been home this whole week? What the hell Val?" You aggressively stand up making the garment Valkyrie placed on you fall off of your back.

She stands up to meet you, ensuring to maintain a calm composure, "Princess, just listen."

Your whole body overheats, "No, if the threat is over then I don't work for you anymore, I don't have to listen. I'm calling Fury and I'm going back home right now."

"Will you stop for a moment!" she finally explodes.

"For what?" you almost plead in defeat, "What more could you possibly want from me?" As your gaze travels down, you spot Val’s Phantom of the Opera sweater on the bench, and when you look up again, your breath gets stuck in your throat.

Valkyrie is standing before you, her breathing labored and her left sleeve rolled up to her elbow, revealing the all too familiar mark. You are paralyzed for what feels like hours, and she remains unmoved as well.

"What is that?" you manage to choke out.

"It’s your soulmark," she replies flatly.

You shake your trembling head, "Asgardians don't have soulmarks." Something you learned during your extensive research to find out why you're the only person in the universe with a mark like yours.

"You’re right," she relaxes her muscles lightly, "it’s the Valkyrie symbol, branded onto us as we were sworn in to protect the Kingdom of Asgard."

You try to absorb her words as your brain threatens to short circuit, "What does this mean?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

You begin to approach her ever so slowly, "This symbol was put on you, and you shared it with all of your sisters." It makes no sense to you how that could still mean you have a matching soulmark.

"A few decades ago it changed, it developed texture," she carefully explains, "I thought I was dying, briefly."

You gesture towards it, "May I?" She nods and you grace your shaky fingers over it to find that it feels exactly like yours. You fear your heart might beat out of your chest, "My whole life I've spent being mocked and ridiculed for my odd mark, and it all could have been solved by you being branded on a different part of your body?" you ask, trying to mask your sadness in the humor.

"The Valkyrie symbol is reserved for only the fiercest of warriors, it represents strength, power, and loyalty, and what better place to have it," she smirks, "than on the very arm that's about to drive a sword through you?" she softly intertwines her fingers with yours, "We wear it with pride, and so should you."

A bittersweet tear escapes your eyes, "I don't get it, Valkyries don't need soulmates." You’re still struggling to understand the situation.

"Perhaps a King does," she murmurs as like an afterthought. Her anticipating eyes meet yours until you’re nodding in agreement, and almost you smile. "So, what happens now?" she follows unsure.

"I don't know, I never really thought this moment would come, I never thought I would ever find my soulmate."

She quickly thinks on her feet, a little too eager, "Do I arrange for a wedding? Are you staying to be my Queen now?"

"Whoa, hey, easy! We've literally just met." You try to hold her back.

She scoffs, "You've been here for months and you've been in love with me since the moment you arrived."

"Oh, please, that is…completely irrelevant."

"Am I wrong?"

You stutter, "You are a very imposing figure—"

"You were drooling."

"Whatever happened the day we met is insignificant as I didn't know you were my soulmate and you didn't know what a soulmate was," you object in an attempt to get her to stop teasing you.

"Very well, then," her features grow challenging, "thank you for your services, much obliged, you may return home now."

"Wait, I don't like that." You frown.

"See?"

"You're the one who chose to call me 'Princess,' you could have picked any other title!"

"But your eyes lit up so pretty when I suggested it," she taunts as her lips curl into a pout.

"Stop embarrassing me," you plead through gritted teeth.

She chuckles, looking around you, "There is no one here." You both feel so at ease with each other, you hadn’t realized how much you missed talking to her, somehow it all just feels right.

"Let me try this," she says as she grabs your hands, "I’m sorry for keeping you here longer than you needed to be, I’m sorry for overstepping, and I’m sorry for slashing your mark in half, it was an honest accident."

You nod slowly, "That's okay," you look at your mark, "I wouldn't be surprised if the same scar grew on yours."

"Let’s go home, Princess."

"Home?" you ask suspiciously as she can’t possibly be referring to the Avengers compound.

"I have a couch you can crash on while you tell me all about this soulmate situation," you look at her skeptically, prompting her to try again, "or, you know, my bed is large enough."

Thank you so much if you made it to the end of this story, I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoyed reading it.

Let me know what you think :)

@mommywandas

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Regina Mills x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hey bitchessss here's chapter 3!@#$%^ Don't expect a full come-back. I'm just high asf rn and wanted to write this small chapter for you pookies<33

Chapter 3: I’m a Troubled Teen (Going Up North to be a Lady-In-Waiting)

Many years ago

The Enchanted Forest

“Your highness, the King and Queen request your presence.”

Oh, God.

It was never good when your parents “requested your presence”. Most of the time it meant you had done something wrong. The last time this had happened, you had jumped off the side of a royal navy ship in your underclothes and satin slippers. 

You shut your book and set it down on the side table in the library, standing up and dragging your feet as you followed one of the advisors. When you approached the door to the “good parlor”, as your mother called it, he knocked three times. You thanked him and after he shut the door a tense air thickened around you.

Your brother, Eric, sat at a chess table with your father while your mother sat by herself in the loveseat practicing her embroidery. 

“What?” you said.

Your mother smiled. “We just wanted to know where you were.”

You looked around awkwardly. “I was in the library…Why did you ask for me?”

“We wanted to spend time with you,” your father said. “It feels like we haven’t seen you in ages!”

“What’s the real reason you asked me here?” you asked.

Still partaking in her embroidery, your mother smiled and looked up at you from the sofa. “We have some news…You remember King Leopold, right?” 

“Sort of.”

“Well,” your mother said, continuing, “his wife, Queen Regina, is looking for a new lady-in-waiting…and they’ve asked for you.”

Your stomach sank. “What?”

“It’ll give you a chance to observe how a kingdom runs,” your father said. “And, it forms an alliance between King Leopold and our kingdom.”

“But–But, Eric is next in line!” you protested. “Shouldn’t he be doing the observing? He’s going to be ruling this kingdom within the next few decades, but instead he’s out on a ship sailing a–”

“Enough!” your father shouted. “This decision is final! The ship sets sail in a fortnight. Queen Regina, King Leopold, and Princess Snow are already expecting your arrival. I won’t hear any more protests from you. It’s time you learn some responsibility and this is the best way to do it.”

__________

Present Day

Storybrooke

You knocked softly on the door to Regina’s home. Waiting a moment, you glanced over to see a sliver of her finger parting the fabric curtain in the front window, just in time to see it quickly close again.

The deadbolt in the door clicked and the door cracked open slowly.

“Hi,” you said quietly.

Regina seemed stand-offish. When the door opened further, you could see it in her eyes that she had been crying.

“Can I come in?” you asked.

She nodded and let you in. You had only been in her home a handful of times–mostly dropping off Henry after school–but it was still as beautiful as you remembered. Instead of admiring the dark hardwoods and the tall ceilings, you focused on her–and now you were admiring much more.

There were still tears in her eyes and wrinkles sat scattered over her navy pantsuit. Everything was becoming so clear in this short amount of time–every dream, every vision, the vague images of your parents in your head. A part of you wanted to yell at her. She took so much from you, but, god, it was hard to be mad at her.

“Um, Regina,” you murmured when she closed the door. “I just wanted to say–”

And there was that feeling–her lips. They encased yours so perfectly. You could feel her strong hands grasp your biceps as you leaned into the kiss. You took a few steps back, bracing yourself against the wall when Regina pulled away. “What?” she huffed. “You wanted to say what?”

You searched her eyes. “Nothing, it can wait for later,” you said, grasping at her shoulders as your lips met again for the first time in 28 years.

[echoeternally]

Echo’s Newer Bowsario Fanfics!

Lol, I was gonna use "latest" for the title, but "newer" got a giggle out of me, so, there we go.

Anyway! Hello to my selective few Bowsario (aka Bowser/Mario) shipping fans. I know there aren't very many of us out there, lol, but hey, we exist! And we have what fun we can.

It's been a few years since I made this kind of post, but I collected the fanfics that I've written in the past (found on this link and then also on this one too) for the pairing.

The content is easy enough to organize elsewhere, but I thought it'd be nice to put it in a convenient spot here too. And maybe some new readers will be delighted by the finds?

So, I figured I'd add a new one, since I've added a bit of new stories since the last post. And I'll share the old stories like I did before as well, because why not?

Presenting the list of the lesser-viewed Enemies-to-Lovers greats!

~~~~~

Amid the Roses - Set in an alternate universe where Mario and Bowser are removed from the Mushroom Kingdom conflicts, this stars the pair as a flower shop owner and tattoo parlor artist respectively. They end up meeting and bonding in a new way here!

Constellation Quelling - A much more traditional fare for the couple, this story has Bowser interrupt Mario while he's alone and relaxing. They bicker at first, but soon open up to one another in a way neither really expected, and the stars above certainly set a mood...

Distant Dawn - Based on a fanfic prompt from years ago on Tumblr, this is a short story to show some early morning musings from Bowser, who considers how his new relationship with Mario can develop, while a secretly not-slumbering Mario listens.

~~~~~

Along with those latest stories listed above, there were a couple of updates to my ongoing Bowsario fanfic, which started a decade ago.

That feels weird to post! But, with some new updates from earlier in the year and more since the last posts, I'll add that below here.

Eternally Never Yours - An ongoing fanfic that details a full affair between Bowser and Mario, as they try to make their seemingly impossible relationship a reality, while struggling to deal with the Mushroom Kingdom at large.

~~~~~

As for the rest, I'll be copying and pasting those below here, so that they can be included too. Makes it a little easier to find it all in one place, I think, right?

Mario’s Defender - A fanfic for Mar10 Day, it tells the story of Mario overhearing some unkind comments about himself, and then a certain someone (Bowser) going back against them. 

Time for Tea - Peach has a small tea party gathering between herself and her friends, the Mario Bros. She wanted the brothers to invite their partners, but didn’t realize who Mario would bring until it was too late. Daisy, however, wants to hear the story of how they got together! 

Red and Blue - In a slight change to the usual storytelling, this is a story that doesn’t use any dialogue to describe tender moments between Bowser and Mario while they explore a relationship together, going over their thoughts. 

Bowser’s Beard - For Bowser Day, a story where Mario and friends go to find out where Peach has been taken, but then find Bowser’s Castle mostly empty when they get there…save for one hairy Koopa King.

Quiet Life - In a “what if…?“ styled story, Bowser is essentially exiled in exchange for the Koopas finally being at peace with the Mushroom Kingdom. Mario is the one that brings comfort to him. 

Inn’s Covers - While going to an inn before a golf tournament, Mario ends up paired in a room with Bowser. They slowly learn to get along, and then some. 

Upon A Dream - After taking a mystical pendant, Bowser ends up in a dream where he’s married to Mario, and grows to not hate it. 

Heart of the Ancient Kingdom - Mario and Bowser are sent on a quest back to the oldest parts of the Mushroom Kingdom to retrieve a rare jewel. They go back to World 1-1 of their earliest adventures, and grow closer too. 

A Spirited Story - Based on Super Smash Bros., the spirits of Wolf and Fox get into a chase sequence of sorts. Mario and Bowser are among the couples they visit. Not quite from this year, but I’ve included it too. 

Wild Cards - A tennis story that focuses on Wario and Waluigi, but has a good deal of shipping support for Mario and Bowser. Also, Bowser wears his tennis outfit and Mario approves. 

Jolly Season - A Christmas special that features not only Bowser and Mario as a couple, but some fluff for Peach and Pauline as one too!

~~~~~

Actually, you know what? Speaking of Peach/Pauline, I may as well include those fanfics here too. What the heck, you know?

This group is a series of stories that I started, um...also a decade ago! But, I've only stirred up the latest fanfic recently, so, gotta get to work on that one again.

Nevertheless, if you're a fan of Mario and Bowser being gay, then I hope you might enjoy Peach and Pauline doing so too!

Toying With Her - The first in the series, where Pauline finds a new object of her affections in the famous princess of the Mushroom Kingdom. Set prior to Pauline's return as mayor in Mario Odyssey! (This story was from years before that even existed.)

Toying With Them - Sequel to the first, Pauline finds herself invited back to Peach's Castle, and finds several more lovely ladies to inspire her toys. Though she's only musing her crushes, that might not be the case forever...if one happens to read between the lines...

Toying With Peril - Finally set after Pauline's return in Odyssey, Miss Mayor comes back to the Mushroom Kingdom...only to find Peach kidnapped and Mario totally unavailable for the rescuing! Guess who gets to step up to the plate this time? Ongoing for now, but do you think Peach will finally learn of and return Pauline's feelings...?

~~~~~

Ha, I haven't done this for a few years. It's nice to see them all together again. Last time was in 2021, and now we've got this in 2024; I didn't think I'd have enough for another round.

Anyway, I know there are fewer fans of them, but for anyone that might be curious to try fanfics featuring Mario and Bowser as a couple, here's my current listing for them.

Meanwhile, if you want stories from other lovely authors, be sure to explore the tag link which I’ll be adding in right here for Bowser/Mario on AO3! It's grown a lot more since I last posted. There are even new regular posters for the pairing besides me!

Though I'm less practiced on Peach/Pauline (they're called Peachline, if I'm not mistaken), they've grown a bit more from my one-off notion of the ladies in love. (Started that back in 2014!) Find some authors that explore the pairing in better detail here. Hope you enjoy!

Part of me likes the idea of writing some more one-shots for Bowsario fanfics at least, and of course finishing that Peachline story in the future. ENY still has some ways to go, but it's moving towards its later stages finally. I wonder what this will look like next time...

Ah, neither here nor there.

For new readers, welcome, and if you've made it this far, thank you for reading and stroking your curiosity! Hope you enjoy.

For older readers, welcome back! If you find something new or want to revisit an older story, I hope you do so and enjoy too.

To everyone, thank you for reading this, and spending a little while with me! If you read any of the stories, please enjoy! Hope you all take care and have a wonderful day.

[zebrashavestripes]

Riddlebird Week Day 7: Legacy

To celebrate the final day of Riddlebird week I wanted to show some love to all the 40k+ wordcount fics that have been updated this year! All of these works must have taken hours of thought, dedication, writing and editing. Some authors started writing these years ago, others started just this year and have already accomplished so much!

The community we riddlebird enjoyers have cultivated both here and on ao3 has always been dear to me, so I also want to thank the people who have commented and left kudos on these fics. These fics are shared for your enjoyment, your curiosity, and you spamming unintelligible nonsense in that comment section. Thank you for doing your part 🫡

Here is the long, wonderful list:

(Always read the tags! Also, if I missed you, feel free to reblog with a link to your work, I promise I tried my best. And if you have a fic from this year that was less than 40k but you're super proud of it, please share a link! You deserve love too! I would link every single fic from this year if I could but then this would be ao3 page simulator so... yeah)

Bonded by corgiblud, liverliquid

A permanent bond. Edward glanced at Oswald. Gaze dropping back down to his own hand after a moment, as he wasn't sure he could bear looking at the other for long. Less out of fear of being hurt, and more out of actually being convinced that this was real.

This work is a creation from the two writers' rp and follows Ed discovering Oswald is a vampire after rescuing him outside his apartment.

Ed-ucation by Inkfowl

Edward has THE Penguin as both his roommate and teacher. He'll be learning from the best killer in Gotham, but Oswald has more than one lesson to impart on his eager student.

This work is a creation from a long-time Riddlebird/Nygmobblepot writer. After The killing of Mr. Leonard in Ed's apartment, it's clear that Oswald has a lot to teach him, and Ed has a lot to learn.

Flightless by ThatGaiaGirl

4 years after the tragic deaths of Thomas and Martha Wayne, two of the most dangerous men in Gotham have a chance encounter that may just change everything.

This work is part of a series that explores "anti-hero" versions of DC charcters. This fic in particular follows Ed and Oswald's journey to become the Penguin and the Riddler.

I Gave You My Heart and I Don't Want it Back by 221blackandwhitestripes

Oswald knows everything. And he loves him. He just doesn't like him.

This work is the third installment of a series set after Oswald wakes up in the hospital with memory loss. This final part follows the aftermath of Oswald regaining his memories and Ed's attempt to regain trust and mend their relationship. This one also happens to be written by me!

I Love You, Oswald Cobblepot by ratshark

After getting sent to Arkham, Ed is set on escaping and breaking Oswald out of Blackgate.

This work explores what may have happened in the ten years Oswald and Ed were separated in Arkham and Blackgate in Gotham TV. Ed joins forces with some familiar friends to try get Oswald out of Blackgate.

In The Good Old Days (When Times Were Bad) by Strewn_Limbs

Edward Nygma (once Edward Atticus Nashton who was born in Huxford, Alabama) had hated most of where he came from. Other than a couple nice cousins, there was nothing worthwhile of home to remember or think fondly of in the future that he made for himself. There was no need to dwell on silly things like past trauma when he now chooses the path he walks. Except, there's no real way to escape over a decade of abuse at the hands of his father, but maybe discovering his villain identity and repressing memories while he tangles in the lives of more evil beings will help as a distraction. Couldn't hurt, right?

This work is 50 chapters long! Each chapter is a short story that delves into Ed's life and his relationship with "The Riddler". This author has been writing for Riddlebird/Nygmobblepot since 2018!

The King Of Gotham by Esperata

The City of Gotham has been decimated by an earthquake and is days away from being cut off from the United States. The Penguin must make plans and ready himself to not only survive, but thrive through the year to come.

This work is written by an author with more than 150 Riddlebird fics under their belt! They have spent hours and years writing about this pairing, and has been an active participant in the community on ao3, tumblr, and elsewhere! This particular fic is inspried by the comic book arc: No Man's Land and follows Ed and Oswald trying to make the best out of a bad situation.

The Liberation Of Edward Nygma by marilyn4ever

Set during season one. Oswald holds Ed hostage in an attempt to get Jim Gordon off his back so he can run Gotham however he sees fit. Unfortunately for Oswald, no one at the GCPD wants Edward Nygma back. What does he do with the head of forensics now?. Having held the man captive for weeks, the two men have become quite close. Will Oswald let Ed go free?, or kill him?, now that he is of no further use to him. Edward has plans of his own.

Written by a longtime Riddlebird/Nygmobblepot author, this fic follows the unlikely relationship between a kinapper (Oswald) and his victim (Ed).

Martín and the Other World by whats_those

"Martín?" Martín turned back to see Oswald standing beside the chair, facing him. He was dressed down to his shirtsleeves with his vest unbuttoned, more casual than Martín was used to seeing him, but that was not what made him take a step back in shock. Oswald wasn't wearing an eye patch, and both of his eyes were big, black buttons. "I thought I heard you sneaking around." ~ One rainy day, Martín finds a strange little door in the drawing room of the Van Dahl mansion.

This work combines Gotham and Coraline together, with Martín as Coraline! You may have seen people talking about this fic on here before, so remember to give their posts about it some love!

Our Time Is Now by water_and_jellyfish

Having found each other, Oswald and Edward managed to sort out many misunderstanding between them that had piled up in their past life and decided to make a brave move and give their feelings for each other a chance for once. Now, in their early twenties, they are trying to take even braver step forward and reclaim their rightful place in Gotham society. Riddler and Penguin might've died over twenty years ago, but they are ready to make a comeback. The question is: is Gotham ready for them?

This work is a sequel to Once and Future, a fic that covers reincarnation as Oswald is born again. This sequel explores what happens when he and Ed grow to become real criminals in Gotham City.

The Penguin and The Peacock by Match_less

When he was a child living on The Falcone estate, Oswald saw a peacock. He thought it’s beautiful in the way strange things are, even if it bit him and made his hand bleed. Many years later, while plotting for the fall of Don Falcone, Oswald met a man who’s beautiful in the way strange things are, even if he kissed him and made his heart bleed.

This work features vivid imagery and explores both Ed and Oswald's psyche, their idea of love, and their relationship to each other. You may have seen the terrific art the author has posted for the fic here on tumblr. Remember to give it some love!

Phoenix Feather by BlueDancer9000

Oswald finds a child in "Everyone Has A Cobblepot," and it goes from there. There will be crying, Oswald simping over Edward, and more Victor Zsasz content because I loved his dynamic with Oswald.

This Author's first fic posted on ao3, it is all about found family and exploring multiple different familial relationships. A lot of sweetness and Dadwald!

Skin Hunger by slingbees

Only days after Oswald's miraculous return to the living world and a lukewarm public reception, Gotham loses track of its recently reinstated mayor once more. Without any witnesses, and with no reason to believe any attempts to locate him will be successful, Oswald is left to collaborate in the Pyg's magnum opus or face inhumane consequences.

This work has Oswald kidnapped by a familiar face after his return to Gotham. Jim and Ed will do their best to track him down. Also: Cannabilism! You may have seen Slingbees around here so remember to give them some love!

Strange Bedfellows by Philosopher_King

Jim and Oswald agree that the relationship between Edward Nygma and Lee Thompkins is a disaster waiting to happen, so they come up with a desperate plan: plant evidence that they're having a secret affair to spark jealousy in Ed and Lee and draw them away from each other. Their plan is both complicated and helped along by simultaneous crises involving the brothers Valeska…

This work has Jim and Oswald fake a relationship to make Lee and Ed jealous. To say that things get complicated would be an understatement. Inspired by this tumblr post! You may have seen the author posting on tumblr before so remember to give them some love!

time is a grenade (and you’re holding it the wrong way) by jupitersglow

Ed learns a lesson, but it takes a few tries.

This work has major time-loop shenanigans to make your headspin as you watch Ed make a fool of himself to fix his situation. You may have seen the author posting about the physics research they did while writing this! Major props to them!

When The Stars Turn Red by PsychosMarket

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙪𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙝, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙤 𝙗𝙡𝙪𝙚 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙜𝙤 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙡 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝘽𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙥𝙞𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚; "𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪" ---------- Edward Nygma is a nerdy, shy man who works in forensics at the local police station. A man who lived two lives, it seemed. He hadn't meant to, really. It was a sort of accident. But seeing as how he’s the notorious murderer that everyone seems to be talking about or looking for, it was hard to avoid that. It was at work when he saw him, a slight glance vaguely upward, wondering distantly about how to win the game he had waiting for him at home, and presently wondering who was yelling so loudly at a police officer. Then he saw him. A man who made his heart stop and the voice in his head stop its endless yammering. And he needed to know who this man was. The man, however, didn't seem to care. This man, was Oswald Cobblepot.

This work has strong imagery and explores Ed's obsessive tendencies, trauma, and internal conflict. 94 chapters, 488k words and counting, this fic is a tremendous feat!

you give yourself to him by enigmamorte

Edward tries to steal a mobster’s car and becomes his sugar baby. Somehow.

This work accidentally did The Penguin (HBO) before it even aired! Like the characters in its source material, the depictions of Ed and Oswald are a little rougher and more grounded and gritty. You may have seen the author hanging around on tumblr, talking about the show, and sharing their thoughts. Send them some love!

AND THAT'S IT, FOLKS!

Again, if I missed you, please reblog with a link! And if you've read any of the above fics, feel free to put them in the tags and tell everyone what you liked! Thanks everyone for an amazing riddlebirdweek and amazing year!!!

[well-look-at-this]

Contending with You. II

a/n. bro... writing this was like trying to pry something out of a dog's mouth man... NO BETA RAHHHH!! I finished this and immediately died on the couch w/o posting it major L. anyway here's the 3 short kings and a dog edition (i did NOT notice i put all the shawtys together until i was alr deep 😭 Lilia's was almost so long just because he is so old lmao CHAPTER 7 SPOILERS GUYS FOR DIASOMNIA

Part I: Idia, Azul, Ruggie, Cater

Includes: Riddle, Epel, Jack, Lilia

Thinking about Epel and pride that bleeds. About growing up happy and loved and never feeling wrong. Thinking about when he started school in another town and it started. You look like a girl. Shouting and bruised knuckles. Screaming at a brick wall. Thinking about how it only would get worse as he got older, how he couldn’t grow out of it. Thinking about living in a body that stops feeling like you but just won’t change. About living in people’s assumptions and never being heard. Thinking about being forced to play the role anyways, because you weren’t strong enough. Because he’s never been strong enough to be allowed to be himself. Always told what you are but it’s never right. Thinking about Epel Felmier, the wolf born in the skin of a lamb. 

Thinking about Riddle and hunger. About being the smallest thing in a big perfect house. Thinking about growing up in a conditional and surgical world. Everything done to the T and if not then you’ve failed completely. Plain planned meals in a soft small body. Hungry, but you can’t exceed your planned caloric intake. Watching other children laugh across the street. Hungry, but you have to study, you can’t be irresponsible… you’re five. But it’s not like Riddle knows what he’s feeling, it wasn’t part of the curriculum. Secret friends and a whole tart, feeling full for the first time–being punished for it. You can’t see your friends anymore. Starving. Going to school and becoming part of a place with eight hundred and ten rules. Feels like home. Thinking of tyranny, of a love like your mother; of doing what’s best for them. They start to shake around you, you’ve finished your favorite tart and received another set of As so why are you hungry. Thinking about Riddle trying to feed monsters that will never be satisfied. Thinking about Riddle Rosehearts and a hunger that’s eating him alive.

Thinking about Jack and faith. Admiration and goals; the expectation and excitement of meeting your idol. But no one ever told Jack that you shouldn’t meet your heroes. Meeting Leona, who doesn’t try and certainly doesn’t play fair. Thinking about someone raised in a pack with values and a place for everyone thrown out in the savannah. They should be a team, so why is everyone eating each other alive? Thinking about being thrust into a place where you have to prove your worth to not be tossed aside. But everything you do and know is wrong here, nothing you do could ever make you fit in. Thinking about being threatened in your own dorm. Being so on edge you betray “your” own pack for another. Thinking about living with the aftermath, the whole savannah on his back. They could’ve won if not for you, they want to make sure you won’t be a problem next time. Thinking about Jack Howl who knows he can only end up a martyr. 

Thinking about Lilia and all his time. A feral kid with no birthday, who finds unexpected family only to lose them too soon. Missing and dead, with an egg in his arms that he’s not good enough to see but won’t hatch for years. Thinking about decades scouring the world in the hope he can find his missing friend. Thinking about every time he mused about “what Malleanor and Levan would think of this”. How many times would he catch himself, reminding himself one is dead, the other is missing, left only with their slowly dying son he can’t seem to save. Thinking about the general who hates humans and everything they’ve stolen but can’t help but appreciate them in his years among them. Thinking about the Lilia who cries holding Malleus and won’t let go despite what the council says. Who realizes Malleanor was right and he’s just so full of love. Thinking of Lilia and a lifetime of being so lesser you believe it. Despite raising a boy you can’t say he’s your son, because he could never replace the people he sees in their face, he doesn’t deserve it and he’s vile for even entertaining the thought. Thinking about finding the son of the man who destroyed your family and country, and raising him as your own. About never treating him as anything less than yours but still not allowing yourself to think of yourself as his father. That the boy can never really be yours, even when he is, Seven’s he is. Thinking about thinking yourself is so inconsequential that there’s no gravity to you leaving with no warning. Thinking about Lilia Vanrouge, the fae who couldn’t realize he was a father.

[separatist-apologist]

Still A Sunbeam

Summary: As a child, Elain Archeron is pushed into a pond by the heir to the Day Courts throne, Lucien Spell-Cleaver, and vows she'll never forgive him for it. But as an adult, Elain finds that if she wants out of an arranged marriage to a Spring Court prince, she will need Day Court's help. More is at stake than a decades-old rivalry, and when their home is threatened, Elain and Lucien will have to set aside old differences and work together

Previous Chapter | Read on AO3

Elain was brought to Nesta, standing in a little alcove that offered them the illusion of privacy. Nesta looked exhausted, eyes ringed with dark circles and her face paler than Elain remembered. She watched Elain approach, nostrils flaring and lips thinning.

“I don’t know which of you is worse,” Nesta hissed when Elain reached her. “Tell me the rumors aren’t true.”

Elain should have known Nesta hadn’t come to hug. “What rumors?”

There were so many possibilities, and Elain didn’t dare to admit to anything. Nesta narrowed her eyes, but said, “You killed a High Lord?”

“That was Eris Vanserra,” Elain said automatically, just like Cadmus had instructed. Nesta looked like living flame just then, like she might combust entirely. “I was only in the room.”

“That’s not what Killian has said. He’s frantic.”

“Why?” Elain genuinely could not fathom what would have Killian so worked up. If Eris wanted to hold Elain accountable, surely he would have called in the troops by now. 

“Because you assisted in killing a High Lord,” Nesta hissed, speaking slow as though Elain were simple. “Why aren’t you more concerned?”

“Because Eris Vanserra isn’t going to share any of the credit,” Elain replied snappishly. “And this is just another attempt on Killian’s end to drag me home. I’m not going.”

Nesta stared at her for a moment, blue eyes unreadable. “Feyre said the same thing,” she mused, more to herself than to Elain. “No one wants to return.”

“Why are you here, Nesta?”

“Because the rumors circling you are concerning. Shacking up with a Day Court Prince—” Nesta’s nostrils flared again, lip curling in triumph when she realized that must be true.

“Assassinating High Lords. Three of them are dead in the span of a day, and our family is at the center of all three. Not to mention Hybern is in Spring—”

“What?” Elain breathed, trying to recall if Lucien had told her that.

Nesta’s amusement died again. “Tamlin is a fool. His father had some bargain with their king—one that was broken when he died, and should have remained broken. But Tamlin…Tamlin invited their general in anyway, and has been giving them tours of the wall.”

“Why would he do that?” Elain demanded, heart frantic in her chest. There were defenseless humans on the other side of that wall. Not to mention, her family was centralized in Spring, left to the whims of Hybern. Maybe her father would be fine, but would everyone else? Nesta waited for Elain to have the same realization she must have had. 

“Because he truly believes Rhysand has kidnapped Feyre and is holding her mind, and nothing short of a thousand years married to her will convince him otherwise. Lucien Vanserra’s assertion that she was not spelled and quite herself didn’t matter. Tamlin is willing to sacrifice everything to get her back.”

“So what do we do?” Elain asked, stepping a little closer. “I could talk to the High Lord—”

“We need to go home,” Nesta said, reaching for Elain’s shoulders. “All three of us. We need to go back, and I can’t convince Feyre this is the right thing.”

Elain blinked. “You want me to…”

“To talk to her? Yes. I want you to tell her that Tamlin isn’t listening to reason. He needed to see her, hear it from her own lips.”

“And what then? What if he doesn’t?” Elain demanded, pulling from Nesta’s grip. “What if you’re right and he won’t believe her unless she marries him. Are you asking me to convince Feyre or that, too?”

“No. There will be no convincing her, not when—” Nesta pressed her lips together tightly, arms crossed over her chest. “If Tamlin can’t be convinced, there is still one brother who could rule. Killian has some sense, at least. He hates Amarantha.”

“You don’t need me for that,” Elain murmured.

“You’re the only one who has seen a High Lord die,” Nesta disagreed, eyes pleading. “And I can’t do this by myself. I don’t want to go back either, Elain. We have to. Spring has been our home and the thought of letting it fall…I…”

Elain knew if she told Lucien this plan, he’d intervene. He’d come up with a hundred reasons for her to wait, or for him to accompany her. She thought of her promise—she wanted to make things permanent between them. 

“How much time do I have?”

“I’d like to leave right now,” Nesta said gently, as if she guessed Elain’s thoughts. “It’s not forever. That mate of yours will survive a week without you.”

Elain didn’t bother asking how Nesta knew. Of course she did. She must have scented it the moment Elain walked into the room. 

“A week?” Elain questioned, sliding the ring on her finger in circles. Nesta nodded her head, though Elain thought it was smart not to make any promises. A week could become a month, or even a year if they weren’t careful. 

“What happens if Feyre says no?”

“Then we go back and you can explain to me exactly how you ended up in a room with the High Lord as his son murdered him.”

Nesta’s eyes glittered with promise—she knew Elain was lying. Elain didn’t bother to correct her, even as she thought the plan was awful. Beron had been seduced by a younger, prettier female and put in a compromising position. Elain very much doubted she or Nesta could tempt Tamlin into the same.

He likely would have heard the details, besides. The only person who was going to ever get close enough to Tamlin was Feyre. And if Feyre was smart, she wouldn’t agree to go back. She’d say no and stay safe in Night with the new High Lord and whatever friends she’d made. 

“Did mother write to you?” Elain asked, thinking of her things dumped wordlessly into Lucien’s bedroom. What kind of welcome was waiting for her at home?

“She did,” Nesta said, her voice laced with pity. “She is…unhappy, but not unswayable.”

“She’ll never approve of him,” Elain insisted, her voice thin and reedy. 

“It’s not her life,” Nesta said fiercely. “She made her choices with father, and you get to make yours, too. What male wants another male’s mate, besides? Killian thinks he will but the scent coming off you makes my hair stand on edge. Mother had a life planned for us all, and we’ve wrecked it.”

“Sorry about Atticus,” Elain murmured. Nesta had always been slated to marry him just as soon as she finished her studies.

Nesta smiled—a genuine thing that made her far more beautiful than she already was. “Why? The High Lord of Night did me a favor. Atticus, too, if we’re honest. I don’t think he ever wanted me as a wife, either.” 

“If we’re going to leave, we should go now,” Elain murmured, looking behind her sister toward the window and the rising sun. Lucien would eat breakfast and meet with his father before coming to look for her again. 

He’d understand, she reasoned. Lucien wouldn’t like the deception, but he’d understand. And he’d be careful, too. Rationalizing that if things went so wrong, Elain could take refuge in nearby Autumn, she reached for Nesta’s hand and began leading her through the palace. Her home. 

I’ll be back, I’ll be back, she chanted in her head. Careful to keep her heart rate steady so she wouldn’t alert Lucien that anything was amiss, Elain managed to get Nesta through the palace without much notice. Courtiers and scholars still fluttered through the halls, glancing her way before returning to their conversations. She was nothing interesting anymore—a princess, so commonplace most of them just barely inclined their heads. 

Later, when Lucien was looking for her, this moment would be cited. He’d know she left intentionally, that she avoided him to keep him from convincing her to stay. It would take no effort on his part—Elain didn’t want to be parted from him. Not today, not ever. Her vision still loomed heavy in her mind. Was she walking straight into it? Or had she derailed just enough that Lucien would honor their marriage vows, deception or not?

Elain simply had to trust that whatever Lucien swore he felt, he meant. That it would take more than one small act of defiance—one made to try and save her home from utter ruination—to sour his feelings for her. Lucien had said he would want her, bond or not.

And though it was so deeply unfair to make him prove it, there was no other choice. Elain stepped into the humidity and the bright light, tilting her head against the warmth while Nesta hissed in disgust. Elain closed her eyes against the cold wind of Nesta’s winnow, wishing that when she opened her eyes, she’d be back in bed with Lucien.

That she’d find this had all been a dream. 

Elain opened her eyes to a city made of moonstone and marble. If Day was burning sunlight, this place was glittering starlight. Elain had never given much thought to the Night Court, and never truly considered what it might look like. This, though, with its shining, clean streets and neat buildings lined up in elegant rows, was beautiful. 

There was no screaming, no pleading or rivers of blood. There was even sunlight, hazy up above and far colder than Elain was used to. She wished she’d grabbed a cloak on her way out. Nesta smiled for a moment, unbidden and bright before she caught herself and replaced that smile with a scowl. A male was striding toward them. He was handsome with his thick, dark hair that fell in waves around truly massive shoulders. Elain didn’t think she’d ever seen someone as broad and muscular as this person. Tattoos crawled up his neck, vanishing dark leathers conforming to his powerful body. Red gems glinted in the light, flaring with what Elain suspected to be excitement when he saw her sister. 

His massive wings, once tucked tightly against his back, flared out for a moment. “Hey, Nes. She came.”

“Don’t call me that,” Nesta snapped as Elain turned to look at her elder sister. Nes? 

“I’m Cassian,” the large, impossibly tall male told her as he extended a hand. “Elain?”

“Elain,” she agreed with a broad smile. “How do you two know each other?”

“We don’t,” Nesta insisted as Cassian, still holding her hand, replied, “I’ve been training her.”

Training her in what? Judging from the flush staining Nesta’s cheeks, it wasn’t just a sword. There would be time to untease all that later—maybe when Elain had Feyre to herself and they could giggle like they were children again, far out of Nesta’s earshot. 

“We’re here to see Feyre,” Nesta interrupted, spine impossibly straight. Cassian’s grin merely widened, as though he were used to these sort of displays and enjoyed them immensely. 

“Lucky for you, she’s at the town house with Rhys. I’ll walk you to her.”

“There’s no need—”

“Oh, I insist,” Cassian interrupted smoothly. “It’s my job to welcome your sister into our court.”

“Well. Welcome her, then,” Nesta snapped. Cassian’s grin was just as sharp, just as lethal as Elain’s eldest sister. Had Nesta met her match here? 

Cassian turned to Elain, sweeping into a half bow. “Welcome to the Night Court, Elain Archeron.”

LUCIEN:

“You wanted to see me?”

Lucien’s father turned from his place in front of the window, his study in disarray. “I did. Elain is with her sister for the day, and I was hoping you could do me a favor.”

Anything to pass the time, he thought to himself. Lucien was unreasonably excited that when he returned to his bedchamber later, Elain would be waiting with food. She was going to accept the bond and they’d have a private celebration. No one could take her from him, then. No matter where they went, no matter how they were separated, she would always belong wholly to him.

Lucien needed something else to think about while he waited or he’d be too tempted to track her down. 

“Of course.”

“I need you to meet with your brother.”

Lucien looked up at the ceiling, sighing heavily. “What has Eris done this time?”

“Nothing,” said Helion, turning to face his son. “That’s the problem. War is on the horizon and Eris has all but closed his borders. I thought we could count on him…but…”

But Eris was self-serving above all else. And if he felt the risk was too great to himself personally, he’d stay out. Just like his cowardly father. Lucien was trying so hard not to hate his half brothers, especially after what they’d done for Elain. He owed them for that—Eris and Cadmus could have locked Elain up and held a trial, could have used what she’d done as an excuse to march into Spring or Day, depending on their mood. 

And instead Cadmus had brought her home while Eris gleefully announced to the world that he’d killed his father and then pardoned himself for crimes of treason, all while sitting with a Day Court courtier on his lap. Presumably. Lucien couldn’t picture Eris putting Arina on his lap—that’s just what he would have done if he’d killed Beron and had his mate with him.

Eris probably had Arina stand at the foot of his throne in one of those dresses that buttoned to her neck, penciling in when they ought to have sex based on some ridiculous calendar of her courses so he was certain to get his precious heir. 

“I’ll go. I want to see Arina, anyway.” That was true. Lucien wanted to offer her an out if she’d changed her mind. He knew how overwhelming the mating bond could be and how heady an experience it was. Surely the fog would be clearing, her senses returning. Assuming she hadn’t done anything stupid—like accept the bond and married his brother—Arina could still come home. 

Even if she hadn’t, Lucien might try and smuggle her out anyway. He could always lie and say she’d run away. His parents would kill him for it, but Lucien thought it would be quite fun to steal Eris’s wife right from under his nose just as his father had done to Eris’s father. 

“Take your time,” Helion instructed, unaware that Lucien was itching to get back to Elain. Or maybe he did, given his eyes slid to the mating band on Lucien’s hand. “Keep that from your mother. You’ll break her heart.”

“She’ll get her big celebration,” Lucien promised, though he ducked his hand behind his back all the same. Disappointing his mother was one of the worst things he could imagine. “This was just for us.”

A soft smile slid across his father’s face. “I know the feeling well. Keep it to yourself.”

Lucien nodded, making his way back into the palace. He did go checking after Elain, unable to help himself. He wanted to tell her he was leaving without her, and that it had nothing to do with her abilities or skills. A servant informed him she’d taken her sister into the city and Lucien thought it was best not to bother them given how sad she’d been about her mother and father’s rejection. Maybe Nesta Archeron could smooth things over for Elain’s family so by the time he visited, everyone was on better terms.

Lucien dressed himself, unable to take his eyes off the still rumpled bed in the center of the room. Elain’s trunks were still scattered about, half opened with clothes spilling out. He knew when he arrived, all her things would be neatly stored, the trunks put away. Maybe, having spoken to Nesta, Elain would feel better about where she’d left things with her parents, too.

Assuming, of course, Nesta hadn’t come to drag Elain back home. Lucien wasn’t willing to entertain that possibility, twisting the mating band around his hand nervously. She was his wife—he could go into Spring and bring her back, kicking and screaming if he had to.

And Lucien suspected he would. If Elain went home under some misguided belief she needed to do right by her family, Lucien would flex his muscles as heir of the Day Court, bring that signed scroll with Elain’s uncoerced signature on it, and put her right back in his bed.

Shaking his head, Lucien shoved the thought out of his mind. Elain wouldn’t—she’d wanted to get married, and she wanted to accept the bond. She wasn’t going home, barring some unforeseen disaster. She was safe in the city, likely showing her sister all the best parts of Rhodes. He’d meet them for dinner if he was home in time and hopefully charm the eldest Archeron into loving both his home and himself, and then have Elain moaning beneath him before the night was through. 

It was too hot to have a jacket buttoned to his neck. Lucien opted for a hunter green tunic with a white shirt beneath. Lucien used gold sleeve garters right above his elbows in lieu of his usual armband, and picked out his nicest pair of trousers and a gleaming pair of boots. That ought to satisfy Eris and his ridiculous court would be looking for anything to pick apart—Lucien didn’t intend to let them find it in his appearance.

Still, for the moment he stood outside, the outfit was unbearably hot. Itchy, too. Lucien winnowed quickly before sweat could cling to his skin and make a mockery of him, landing on crunchy leaves just outside the Forest House. 

Beron is dead, he reminded himself. It did little for his crawling anxiety, especially when the guards surrounding the palace watched him, arrows pointed straight at him as he walked to the entrance. 

The smell of cinnamon and wet soil slammed into his senses, far stronger than it had ever been outdoors. Lucien frowned, already missing home. A guard was waiting in a crisp red and white uniform, beckoning for Lucien to follow after him. The palace seemed thinner than Lucien remembered—fewer courtiers meandering the winding halls, watching for something to gossip about later.

Absently, Lucien wondered if Eris hadn’t culled them. It was possible they’d also fled for another court, though Lucien wouldn’t fathom who would want Autumn’s set living within their walls. 

Familiar golden doors were thrust open when Lucien approached, though there was no Beron Vanserra sneering at him as he entered. No open insults, no hateful eyes. Only Eris, casually positioned in that wooden chair made of twisting branches. Arina was propped on his knee, crowned in a burnished laurel leaves and draped in a pretty, burgundy dress that cut far lower than anything Lucien had ever seen on an Autumn Court female. Rubies adorned her throat, a match for the pretty ring on her finger.

She shot upward the moment she saw him, gathering her skirts as she jogged the four steps to the wood floors. Lucien kept his eyes on his brother, waiting for that flash of anger his father would have given.

Eris merely seemed amused. Indulgent, even. Lucien didn’t know what to make of that.

Arina flung her arms around his neck, and Lucien, still testing her brother, hugged her back with a little too much intimacy. He caught Eris’s expression shift to irritation, lip curling over his teeth before he smothered it.

“Where is Elain?” Arina demanded, pushing back just enough to peer around him.

“Busy, unfortunately,” Lucien replied, scanning his friend for any tell-tale signs of bruises or other harm. “How are you?”

He expected Eris to jump in, furious at the insinuation. True, his brother stiffened on the throne, gripping the arms so tightly Lucien heard the wood creak beneath his grip. But he kept silent so Arina, bubbly and vivacious as ever, could say, “I’m fine. Don’t look at me like that—Eris could only dream of getting one good hit in.”

“I don’t dream of that,” Eris said, his first words since Lucien had arrived. “I am content to let my wife speak for me.”

Arina rolled her eyes with affection, looking over her shoulder as Eris stood. 

“He had to make such a show of it. Did you know he’s High Lord?” she teased as Eris rolled his neck before slowly making his way toward them. “He reminds us all no less than ten times a day.”

An affectionate smile spread across his brother's face, so at odds with the male Lucien was accustomed to seeing. What had Arina done to him? It was impossible to consider that Eris may have always been this way.

“Brother,” Eris said by way of greeting, sliding one arm possessively around Arina’s waist. Was Lucien also that obnoxious? Arina reeked of Eris’s scent, the bond between them nearly overpowering. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, a warning not to get too close unless he wanted his throat ripped out.

But Eris was keeping it together, given Lucien had just been rubbing his hand up and down Arina’s spine. 

“Have you come to ensure I’m not mistreating my mate?”

“Among other things,” Lucien replied, not bothering to deny it. 

Eris exhaled. “Spend as much time with her as you like.”

Lucien didn’t think he could stand to, though it certainly put some of his fears to rest. If Eris had things to hide, he surely wouldn’t hand her up on a silver platter. Not when the mating bond was still riding him so hard, at any rate. “It’s tempting. A sleepover, like old times?”

Lucien relished the growl that slipped past Eris’s throat. It was too easy to rile him up now. Arina poked Eris in the ribs, leashing Eris before he could do or say something that might start an incident between Autumn and Day.

“Why are you really here, brother?’

“You know why,” Lucien retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “This potential war. Father wants to know where you stand.”

Arina looked up at Eris, eyes wide. “War?” she asked. 

“How poorly you inform her,” Lucien sneered, earning a smack in the chest from Arina.

“Knock it off,” she warned, looking between the pair of them. “What war?”

“Maybe war,” Eris interrupted, pushing the words through his teeth. “As far as I can tell, Tamlin is merely giving Amarantha a tour of his home.”

“Of his borders,” Lucien clarified. “Why would she possibly need to know that? And ships are pouring in from Hybern in the dozens. I doubt it’s all goods for trade.”

“What do you want, then? A promise I’ll march with Helion if Amarantha decides to invade?”

“Yes,” Lucien replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Eris held Lucien’s gaze. “Fine. I’ll agree—on one condition.”

Gritting his teeth, Lucien replied, “What is it that you want?”

“For you to stay two nights. Here. With your brothers,” Eris clarified, perhaps guessing Lucien would merely waste his time hanging out with Arina. “Otherwise tell Helion he can get fucked.”

“Are you serious?” Lucien seethed, well aware his father would not be so forgiving if he returned home without securing this alliance all because he wanted to sleep beside his wife. Eris must have guessed, eyes sliding to the band on Lucien’s hand. 

“It’s time to put the past behind us,” Eris said, slinging his arm around Arina’s neck. She beamed, clearly loving this plan and wholly unaware of what a bastard her mate was. 

“Oh, Lucien, you should. Things are so different—you’d love it. Invite Elain to spend some time here, too.”

“I’m sure Cadmus would love to see her,” Eris added. Lucien swallowed the urge to beat Eris to death with his fists.

“Fine,” he gritted out. He’d write Elain and explain himself. “Two days, and you agree to support Day if Spring lets Amarantha use their territory as a base.”

Something dark flickered over Eris’s face. “And Day will agree to house any refugees from my court should she come over our borders.”

Lucien would need to talk to Winter, too, but it was reasonable enough. Extending his hand, he nodded.

“Deal.”

[consanguinitatum]

DT talk throwback: my interview w/Steve Pang, writer/director/producer of SPACES

This post is the second in the series of posts I'm making to rescue my lost interviews with people who worked with David in his earlier years: you can find the first, with David Blair - the director of Takin' Over The Asylum - right here.

Over half a decade ago now I was a writer for David Tennant News/DT Forum, one of the bigger unofficial fan sites of DT's at the time (now sadly defunct). During my time there, I got the chance in July 2015 to interview Steve Pang - the writer/director/producer of SPACES, a short film David starred in back in 1993. I didn't want this interview to sink into the depths of the Wayback Machine and I thought y'all might enjoy reading it, so here is that interview in its entirety (and if you'd like to see it in its original form, click here.)

Screenshot of SPACES from Moving Image Archive / Steve Pang, Writer-Director-Producer (today, and in a 1993 interview)

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Recently I was able to chat with Steve Pang, the writer, director and editor of SPACES. SPACES is a 1993 short film starring David Tennant as Vinny, a young man working a night shift in a car park in Edinburgh. The film depicts the characters Vinny meets over the course of the night: an older colleague with a troubled past, a bright young girl who uses the empty car park for her violin practice, and a young homeless boy.

Pang won a First Reels funding Award in 1993 from the Scottish Film Council and Scottish Television for the script he submitted for SPACES. First Reels was “a joint short film initiative from Scottish Screen (and its predecessor body the Scottish Film Council) and Scottish Television that was launched during 1991 by the Scottish Film Council in response to a perceived need for small grants to help young and first time film-makers to make or complete their first film or video project.”

Winning the award gave Pang the funds to make SPACES a reality. In the following years he decided to shift gears and move into film and television editing. He began in film as an assistant editor in the 1997 James Bond film Tomorrow Never Dies and on television in The Vicar of Dibley. Since then he has worked in various editing capacities on a lengthy list of projects including Wonka, Band of Brothers, The Da Vinci Code, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, The 10th Kingdom, and Gravity.

How did you hear about the First Reels project? 

The scheme was announced whilst I was at Napier University in Edinburgh studying for my degree. As it was open to students, pretty much everyone on the course applied as it was a rare opportunity to get funding to make films.

It’s my understanding the First Reels project gave filmmakers grants to help them realize their projects, but that the projects didn’t have to be finished films to be submitted.  What stage in its development was SPACES at when you submitted it? Did the grant you won help you film and complete the work or had it already been completed in a rough form? 

As I recall I submitted a script and a supporting application form. Had we not won the grant, I think the film would have still gone ahead in some form but we would not have been able pay the cast or equipment suppliers – which would have undoubtedly had a detrimental effect on the film, in my opinion.

Was SPACES your first film? Take us through its development from idea to reality. How did you decide on it as your submission for First Reels?

It was probably my second or third short, but certainly the most ambitious (everything else before that was really more just fooling around and experimenting with a camera). The goal was to ‘keep things simple’ and come up with an idea that could be shot in one location with a small cast. I had worked part time in a 24hr car park in the past and my experiences in that job were the source material for the film.

SPACES is set in a car park and tells the story of one young man’s night shift. What were your inspirations for the story line?  he ending? Can you share a bit more about what you hoped people would take away from the film?

The short is essentially a dramatisation of a number of real life experiences I had working part time in a 24hr car park in Edinburgh. It sounds like a pretty mundane job, but I worked with some very interesting people and there were one or two unusual incidents. I thought collating everything into a single night would make an interesting short film. I’ve always found night time in cities really fascinating and I thought SPACES would be an original way of depicting that kind of atmosphere and mood. 

Screenshots from SPACES

Were the actors you chose initially the ones that actually appear in the film? How involved were you in choosing the talent, and how did the actors you chose come to your attention? 

We contacted a number of local actors agencies and as I recall the actors in the film were all our first choices for each role. At the time I had no idea who David was or that he was about to become a big star. Looking back, I think he was already making a name for himself as an up-and-coming actor within the industry but as a lowly, newbie film student I didn’t have that ‘inside knowledge’. All I knew was that he seemed remarkably in tune with the character I’d written and came across as incredibly natural in the first audition. The role was his immediately. It was only after the film was completed and submitted that I started hearing comments along the lines of ‘wow you had David Tennant in your short.’

Speaking of actors — David was very young when you worked with him (it’s listed as only his 4th credited role). Was there something that impressed you about this young unknown actor? What about the experience of working with him still stands out for you all these years later?

Working with him – from rehearsal to shoot – was great. We had a tiny budget, a cold, dark location, and it was a night shoot. In hindsight, given that we were a bunch of newbie students and he was about to break through as a major actor, I’m grateful that he was so tolerant of the unsociable hours, the unglamorous location and facilities we had!

I have information that SPACES was shown on television sometime in the latter half of 1993, when Scottish Television ran three half-hour documentaries showing excerpts of the winners from the First Reels. Do you recall if it was shown, and if so, how did you feel seeing your film broadcast?

An excerpt was shown yes, along with a short interview with me. I remember being wracked with nerves on the night of the broadcast and kind of being in shock afterwards. It was probably only a couple of minutes of screen time in total.

Do you have any interesting behind-the-scenes sorts of recollections about working on the short?

I remember our equipment causing a short circuit at the location that required us to completely re-order the schedule. And I think our catering consisted of soup and bread for everyone. It was all very basic.

How do you think working on First Reels influenced you in developing your career?

It was an invaluable boost and a great learning experience. Who knows what would have happened had I not received that grant.

For Further Reference:

View Mr. Pang’s IMDb or his extensive CV.

Synopsis from entry on SPACES from the full film record at the Scottish Screen Archive.

A copy of SPACES is held at the Moving Image Archive and can be viewed at the National Library of Scotland. Private and research viewing only.

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And that's that! I hope you all enjoyed this unique insight into SPACES and DT's work with Steve Pang!

[chernobog13]

OUT OF THIS WORLD (vol. 1) #1 (June, 1950). Avon Publications. Cover by Gene Fawcette.

Ho hum. Just another science fiction comic, right?

Normally you'd be right. But this little gem contains the first appearance of the one-and-only Crom the Barbarian!

Yes, decades before a certain Cimmerian first appeared at Marvel Comics, writer Gardner Fox and artist John Giunta brought a very Conan-esque barbarian to the four-color pages.

Curiously, Crom's tribe - emigrating from Northern Eurasia (perhaps Siberia, where blond hair is thought to have originated) - is called the Aesir. That's the collective name of the Norse gods of myth, not Asgardians, as Stan Lee and company would have you believe. Oddly enough, though, Crom makes reference to characters from Norse myth (Thor, Jormundgandir, Freya, Garm, Uller), as well as mythological characters from other countries (Set, Nessus). And another guy even invokes Zeus' name (here spelled "Zues").

Crom was a very neighborly guy. According to the text, "To Crom, all men who were not Aesir were enemies. They must be killed, that his tribe might become rich and prosperous."

I could make a MAGA joke here, but that's too easy and obvious.

Crom also deftly wields a sword with the heartwarming moniker Skull-Cracker. He often talks to the sword, encouraging it to drink its fill of his enemies' blood. A real sweetheart, this Crom is.

Crom is also quite the lusty fellow with an appreciative eye for the ladies. In just ten short pages he finds three different lasses that tickle his fancy.

The last gal turned out to be a queen. Originally, she tried to knife Crom in the back because he was stealing a treasure from her vault.

Crom's response to that was "the barbarian way:" he grabbed her and kissed her until she fell limp in his arms.

Politically correct this ain't.

Speaking of political, it is said that "Crom's gorilla-like strength, the cunning of his sword-hand" (plus his ability to leap like a deer) "swept (away) the soft, politically appointed guards before him."

Back to the queen: despite Crom using her as a hostage to cover his escape, and threatening to kill her if she doesn't cooperate, two panels later she's in love with him and wants him to rule by her side as king.

That Crom, what a guy!

Like the Cimmerian he is likely based on, Crom is not role-model material. Mildly entertaining, yes, but I can see parents - especially mothers - back in the 1950s getting upset that little Johnny is reading this sort of stuff in a comic book.

Still, the story is relatively important because it is, arguably, the first Robert E. Howard-style sword and sorcery tale in comics. And as we all know by now, it would certainly not be the last.

[sweet-berrry]

hi again! tell me something you think is cool?

Animation History timeeee

Ok, not really. I'm gonna recite these things from memory, so there may be many issues and irregularities.

Intersectionality between the art form of animation and the unhealthy work life balance of the modern age.

Ok so basically wayyy back in the day they would hand draw all of their animation and often have people (especially women) hand color their frames. Then they film it and BOOM! A movie

This process was extremely tedious and time consuming. Not to mention expensive. Any body can hire an actor for a day and shoot a few scenes, but if you have to hire multiple people for multiple days to make one scene. Yeah it adds up.

That's why (in my opinion) Disney had such a monopoly for so long. Having all the equipment and know-how made it almost impossible for other studios to catch up and make a profit.

Even at this time, people were not working healthily. Walt Disney was a motivational master (positive or negative) and knew how to lead people. People were inspired to stay late and work longer hours. After he died, the company needed the same amount of effort from their employees, but had no clear leader. Three separate executives saw themselves as the next Disney, and started an intense power struggle all while the studio fell into a financial and emotional depression.

Movies started making less and less, while employees lost trust in their employers as people were fired left and right. Imagine with me. Your buddies have all been fired, and you're hoping you can keep your job past Christmas. The power in you building is a little unstable, and nobody's in a good mood. But then your boss tells you "Hey, because we fired Tim we need you to pick up his load." Are you happy? No! But you have a family to feed and an EXTREMELY specific skill set. So you do it.

One of the executives noticed how bad the environment was turning and even made a department wide meeting where anybody could say how they felt and what they needed from him. People talked about how they had slept at the studio for multiple nights in a row. How their families were falling apart. The executive ended up crying at the weight of it. But nothing really changed.

Eventually Disney gets a second wind, and we get The Little Mermaid, The Lion King, Beauty and the Beast, all the classics... But I want to focus on the 2000s.

Fast forward a couple decades, and we get computers! They were especially impactful on the movie business because of digital editing (as opposed to manually cutting and layering film) and special effects. Matching with the sci fi themes of the time, many graphics were sleek, futuristic, and uncanny. We mostly giggle at their low quality now, but that time was essential to convincing George Lucas that computers were an investment for Hollywood.

Basically, he makes his own cgi studio to work specifically on lucasfilm productions and sell Pixar computers. They make advertisements for their computers in the form of short films! They eventually grow out of Lucasfilm, and George sells them to Steve Jobs.

While a lower level of physicality is involved, the work load is no lighter. Pixar has to fight tooth and nail to prove that they belong in the movie industry. At this time only a small amount of people know how to use computers let alone make art, but this doesn't stop those few from trying. They work night and day in their windowless buildings to prove their worth. Staying overnight, skipping meals, and other unhealthy practices were all normalized in the pursuit of making a breakthrough.

Toy Story. The first fully cgi feature length film. The Jurassic Park of animation. Love it or hate it, it changed the game. Immediately studios like DreamWorks and Disney pivoted from hand drawn to computer animation due to the lower cost of production and easier onboarding process. But these studios just couldn't compete with Pixar's quality and reputation.

John Lasseter. A great leader, a not so great dude (I don't want to get into everything he did. Look it up if you're curious). He DEFINITELY wanted to be the leader of Pixar and for a while he was the face of the operation! But again, being good at motivating people doesn't necessarily speak to your character. Even ignoring his gross behavior, his disrespect of others in the industry was apparent. Stealing ideas and putting himself in the spotlight shaped the way that Pixar told stories. Honestly, a lot of the films carry signs of his toxic influence (Coco, Incredibles, Monsters Inc).

Even though the transfer to cgi should have made room for healthier practices, the greed of studios and the toxic people they put in power sabotaged that idea.

Here we get into the present day. I'll never forget the stories I hear. The stories are so sad, but Disney still allows them to be told. How much worse are the stories they cover up?

In the Incredibles 2 extra credits, they ask some Pixar employees questions about being parents. They said things like "once I had a child it took awhile to learn that I needed to be strict about leaving on time." Or "it's nearly impossible to have kids and work, but we do our best. Sometimes I forget to eat!" These things should not be happening. Pixar is large and successful enough to support these families better. "I told my son I would play in a minute and when I looked up it was nine pm".

The problem is a mix between the generational culture and the studios profiting from that culture.

Pair this with the huge number of artists who are passionate about animation, and you get a swarm of young adults with no children who are willing to do almost anything to make their degree useful. People who have idolized Disney and Pixar for years.

The cycle will not stop on its own. These artists deserve to create in a way that encourages growth and stability.

I didn't mean for this to promote anyone, but @studioflimpo is a wonderful example of a change for good within the industry!! They are a small indie studio that's working on its show Mandelbrot Hall. (They also have some awesome short films you should watch!)

The shift toward indie animation recently is a huge win for everybody! The studios who get the recognition they deserve, the employees who get treated the way they deserve, and the audience who gets to experience the art of animation.

[enhyqenn]

❝ the cost of it all ❞ — TEASER

pairing. angel!ni-ki x demon!fem!reader

genre. short story, slow-burn, friends-to-enemies-to-lovers, fantasy, supernatural

summary. after nearly a decade of war, lord satan is forced to turn over a daughter as collateral for his crimes, paying a debt for the betrayal of his trust with the malakim. but as death seeps into the glass castle once again, reopening once-mended scars amongst the sky kingdom, allegiances begin to rub raw and old relationships flourish with the necessity for survival.

wc. 0.8k | taglist. open

note. posting this to come back from my year-long hiatus (lol) this is apart of @emeraldenha 's UNLIKELY collab! i highly recommend checking it out :)

playlist | read full version here

inhaling deeply, you sunk into your chair and smoothed down the imaginary wrinkles on your dress. fuck, you mentally cursed, itching to rub at your face. you had forgotten that the seven brothers each had a set of their own powers.

settling on fiddling with the chain around your neck, you observed your surroundings with a frown and met the stares of watching eyes.

“i don’t think glaring at them will cause them to burst into flames. your powers are nullified in here,” riki stated. his presence hadn’t startled you, and you had a small feeling that it was because some part of you knew he would show at the absence of his father.

resting your chin on a hand, you merely said, “i’m aware.”

he took the seat to your right. “then why do you look like you’re trying to light everyone in this room on fire?”

“because,” you started, tilting your head to look at him, “it’s fun. i like watching as they squirm and writhe. it makes me feel more powerful than i am.”

riki’s brows raised as he crossed an ankle over his knee. “we’re the only two people in this room dressed in black. people stare at us as we walk past. shouldn’t that make you feel powerful enough?”

“no,” you scoffed, letting your hand fall back to your side as you stared at him. “my definition of power seems to be very different from yours, nishimura.”

“it was always different,” riki said smoothly.

ouch.

mouth drawn in a tight line, you kissed your teeth, gaze sliding from him to the archangel now standing on the dais. seven identical thrones accompanied the king’s, the new seats all filled except one.

the crowd grew silent as someone tapped a spoon against a wine glass.

“greetings,” the king said with a sickening smile, his wings extended behind him in a subtle display of power. “oh, how i have waited for this moment, to welcome you all here to the castle on the occasion of good news.”

good news? you thought, eyes flashing to riki. his face heeded no information on whether he knew what this was about or not.

the king continued, his white hair shining under the chandelier light, making it appear silver. “here, in this ballroom, we have a very special guest among us. now, she has already made her appearance through an array of deviant actions, but i think her company here could bring us great benefit, wouldn’t you all agree?”

if every person in the room wasn’t already staring at you post entrance, they definitely were now.

your throat closed up at the sudden urge to vomit all over the tile flooring, and you swallowed down lingering anxiety as you stared at the king. you were almost certain that even though the wards around the room nullified your powers, your irises had turned a dark shade of red.

the monarch up front continued to talk, but the words started to slur together as blood thrummed in your ears. this is bad, you thought, forcing yourself to remain dormant in your chair. sudden applause erupted in the room, and someone grabbed your shoulder.

“what?” you heard yourself snap, eyes flicking to riki, who was now getting to his feet.

he nodded toward his father, dark hair falling past his ears, as his mouth curved into an amused smirk. he extended a hand. “dad requires your presence.”

blinking up at him, your mind shadowed with a haze as you stood slowly, ignoring his offered palm. squaring your shoulders, heels clacking on the marble with each step, you weaved through the crowd—riki right behind you—and forced your face to become unreadable. all eyes were on you, and while it wasn’t necessarily a foreign concept, you felt small. like a child hesitantly approaching its furious father.

“ah, there she is,” the king said, watching with a smile that made your stomach twist in on itself. “i’m happy you’re here…and so is everyone else.” he took your arm, turning you to face the crowd he addressed (though not before shooting a dirty look toward riki, sending the black-winged angel to his designated throne).

gulping, you stared at the large group of angels, some with and without wings; of individuals that called this place their home. the idea of people actually being happy here made your stomach knot.

the king continued to speak, it was white noise in your ears, his speech muffled. you continued to blankly stare down the crowd, focus landing on a pocket of empty space, not daring to meet any person’s gaze. you thought it better that you ignore them, even with all of their attention zoned in on your stilled figure.

“...and my sons will oversee her training and missions, making sure that she understands and complies with our rules.” the king moved his hand to your back, and you hoped to hell that you didn’t visibly flinch.

your life now consisted of being the new personal assassin to an archangel, and if you were to keep the impression you strived for, no weakness could be displayed. not now and not ever.

© enhyqenn 2023 | do not repost, republish, steal, or translate !!