#TRAP SWEEP everybody

[billy-crudup]

You know the Butcher? That freakin' nutjob that goes around just chopping people up? Well, the feds or whatever heard that he's gonna be here today, so they set up a trap for him. This whole concert? It's a trap. They're watching all the exits, checking everyone that leaves. There's no way to get out of here. It's kinda dope, right? TRAP (2024) dir. M. Night Shyamalan Cinematography by Sayombhu Mukdeeprom

[itsalwaysdark]

loveee when a character is crushed under the weight of someone elses expectations for them love when a character dedicates their entire life to something they never even wanted for themself love when the only reason a character keeps going is because theyre Supposed to and bc theyre supposed to make another person happy/proud. YES !!! CLAPPING !!! YES !!!!!!!!

[leaderwonim]

❀ DEFINITELY NOT MY CROWD.

pairing. frat!jungwon x shy!fem!reader

genre. romcom, american college au, strangers to enemies to lovers (bye??), angst, fluff, mature

synopsis. when your friend drags you out to a frat party a week before the holidays, you didn’t expect to fall into the graces of yang jungwon, one of the fraternity boys at your university. One accidental kiss with Yang Jungwon and a viral post later, you wake up to a text from your sister: “Bring your new boyfriend to Christmas dinner!” Now, you’ve got one week to turn this chaos into a holiday miracle—or a romcom disaster.

“Hey, wake up.”

Madeleine taps on your shoulder, and when you only respond with a mhmm, she takes both shoulders and shakes you violently.

“What the hell Mads!” You say, getting up in a hurry. “What can you possibly need now?”

“Oh shut up, you’re making it sound like you despise me.” She throws an arm around your shoulder. “Will you come with me to Luca’s party?”

“You know I don’t do frat parties.” You say, already brushing off her suggestion. “They’re just loud and people make out in every corner.”

“But you never go out!” Madeleine slumps her body against yours, practically trapping you on your own bed. “Please.”

“Mads I love you, but no.”

Except here you were, in front of Alpha Delta something—was it Alpha Delta Pi? You didn’t know.

All you knew was that the music was way too loud for it not to have a noise complaint from the neighboring houses, and that there were too many drunk college students stumbling everywhere on the grass out front.

“I’m soooo glad we decided to do this!” Madeleine swings her arms around your shoulder, leading you inside the gigantic frat house.

“Madeleine!” A guy comes up to the two of you, his cheeky smile never leaving his face. “And who’s this?”

“Y/N, my roommate I told you about!” Madeleine smiles at you, “you remember Will right? From Econ?”

Will. Will. You’re trying so hard to remember him, until you realize he’s the blonde in front of you, his hockey gear always taking up half of the space.

“This is my girlfriend, Kallie!” Will puts his arm around the girl next to him. “Well it’s nice seeing you Madeleine and Y/N, have a good night!”

Even though he was notoriously loud in class, he was a bit of a sweetheart, and it made you feel a bit better about being here.

“See, that wasn’t so bad right?”

You nod, letting her guide you throughout the house to the kitchen.

“Do you want Pink Whitney or Tequila?”

You decided on Pink Whitney.

“Oh shit—I’m so sorry.” The guy who bumps into you turns around, his pupils dilated and red. He’s clearly very drunk.

“It’s fine.”

“I’m Jungwon!” He smiles at you brightly, dimples showing ever so proudly.

It seemed like everybody at this party was all about smiling tonight.

“Oh Won! You’re here!” Madeleine slides you your shot, and you down it in one go, silently cursing yourself for not taking a chaser beforehand.

“Yep, kinda have to because this is my frat.”

Now that he’s not stumbling over his own foot, you come to realize he’s actually pretty cute. His brown hair is messy and he’s wearing some plain navy blue hoodie that makes him look more attractive than he actually should be.

“This is Y/N, my roommate!”

Jungwon slips his hand into yours, shaking it in a hurry. “Nice to meet you Y/N, wish it was under better circumstances.”

His joke earns a playful shove from Madeleine, who raises her eyebrows at you, already hinting that you should talk to the boy.

“Well I gotta go talk to Luca, catch you two later!”

You don’t have time to pull Madeleine back because she’s already gone, leaving you alone with Jungwon.

“Hey.” He says, now suddenly closer to you. “Wanna kiss?”

It’s a straightforward almost humorous ask, one that a stranger who’s just known you for five minutes shouldn’t ask. But because the alcohol already entered your system and you have nothing better to do; you nod.

Jungwon leaves no time for you to take a breath before sweeping in, closing the gap between yours and his mouth. You can hear hoots from his frat brothers as the kiss grows more intense.

You’re sure you’ve become the very same people that you used to make fun of—the ones who would make out at the corner of parties and act like they had no decency or self respect.

But who cares, right? This was the one time you were out, and finals had been stressing you like a pounding headache, why would a kiss from some random frat guy affect you after the party?

You were clearly very wrong.

-

The next day, you’re awaken to your annoying alarm clock, groaning as you tap aggressively on the snooze button.

“Oh shit,” you say, feeling lightheaded when you try to get up. “What time is it?”

From the corner of your eye, you can see Madeleine’s blonde hair spread out on every part of her bed, her limbs tangled in her blankets.

You try to rub your eyes as you reach for your phone, and when your vision clears, the first thing you do is let out a shrilling scream.

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

“What? What’s wrong?” Madeleine’s head pops up, her hair messy and all over her face.

Madeleine stares at you groggily as you toss your phone at her. She fumbles to catch it, squinting at the screen before her eyes widen.

She slaps a hand over her mouth, though the giggles that escape are anything but subtle.

"Why is there a video of me kissing Jungwon everywhere?!" You groan, flopping back on your bed as the stress headache from finals makes a sudden comeback.

"It's not just a video," Madeleine says, scrolling furiously. "You and Jungwon are, like, the new talk of the frat. You know how frat boys are like. The sorority girls might even be jealous."

"I'm going to die," you mutter into your pillow.

"You are not going to die, Y/N."

You groan, yanking the pillow off your face just as your phone vibrates again. Madeleine hands it back to you, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

You don't even have to check the screen to know who's texted you. You sigh and unlock it.

[annoying older sis]: Bring your new boyfriend to Christmas dinner. I’m serious. Mom’s already setting the table for him.

You sit up so fast you almost get whiplash.

"No. Nope. No way. This cannot be happening." You turn to Madeleine, holding your phone out like it’s cursed. "My family thinks Jungwon’s my boyfriend. What am I supposed to do now?!"

"Bring him!" Madeleine chirps, far too enthusiastic for this godforsaken situation.

"Are you insane? I barely know him! He’s probably already forgotten who I am."

As if the universe is mocking you, your phone buzzes again.

[Unknown Number]: Hey, it’s Jungwon. Can we talk?

You stare at the screen, heat rushing to your face.

"Is that him?" Madeleine practically screeches, leaning over to read the text. "Oh my god, Y/N, he’s texting you first. This is fate!"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing her away as you type back:

Sure. Where?

The response is almost instant.

[Jungwon]: Can you meet me at the campus café in an hour?

Madeleine screeches in excitement yet again.

-

An hour later, you’re already regretting your life choices as you walk into the café, spotting Jungwon sitting at a table near the window. His hoodie from last night is gone, replaced with a clean black sweater that somehow makes him look even more attractive.

When he sees you, he grins, those stupid dimples making your stomach flip for reasons you refuse to acknowledge.

"Hey," he says as you sit down across from him, awkwardly tucking your hair behind your ear.

"Hey," you reply, wondering if it’s possible to combust from secondhand embarrassment.

"So, uh…" Jungwon rubs the back of his neck, looking almost as nervous as you feel. "About last night…"

You brace yourself for him to tell you he doesn’t want anything to do with you, that the kiss was a mistake, and you should forget it ever happened.

But then he says: "I wanted to apologize. I don’t usually, like, kiss random strangers at parties. I was kinda drunk, and I just… yeah, sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

You blink, caught off guard by how genuine he sounds. "Oh, um, it’s okay. I mean, it wasn’t terrible or anything."

Jungwon raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh. "Wow. 'Not terrible.' High praise."

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "Sorry. I’m awkward and shy and bad at this."

"I noticed," he says with a chuckle.

When you peek through your fingers, you find him smiling softly at you, his eyes warm and kind.

"Anyway," you say quickly, dropping your hands. "I’m sure you’ve seen the video by now."

"Yeah," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck again. "That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you. People are, uh, kinda freaking out about it. And my fraternity brothers keep calling you my girlfriend."

"Funny you should mention that," you say with a dry laugh. "My family thinks you’re my boyfriend too. My sister wants me to bring you to Christmas dinner."

His eyes widen. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah. And I don’t know how to tell them the truth without ruining Christmas, so I was thinking…"

"You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend?" he finishes, tilting his head.

"Just for a week!" you say quickly, holding up your hands. "We get through Christmas, and then we go our separate ways. No one has to know it wasn’t real."

Jungwon looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Finally, he says, "Okay. I’ll do it."

You blink. "Wait, really?"

"Sure," he says with a shrug. "It sounds kinda fun. And honestly…" He leans forward, his voice dropping to a soft, almost teasing tone. "I need to get out of my frat house. They have yet to let me live down this moment."

Your face flushes, and you look away, muttering, "Frat guys are ridiculous."

"Maybe," he says, grinning.

This was going to be a disaster. You could already feel it.

-

The rest of the week feels like a blur of planning. Between texting Jungwon to coordinate your "backstory" and surviving Madeleine’s endless teasing, you barely have time to process what’s happening.

"How do we even explain how we met?" you ask Jungwon during one of your brainstorming sessions at the campus library.

"We could just tell the truth," he says, leaning back in his chair. "That we kissed at a party."

You give him a look. "Do you want my family to hate you?"

"Fair point," he laughs. "Okay, how about we say we met through Madeleine and just… hit it off?"

"Sounds fake but okay."

You decide to meet again the next day after class to properly establish some backstory for your "relationship." Jungwon shows up late, looking like he just rolled out of bed.

"Nice of you to show up," you say sarcastically, already in a foul mood from a pop quiz from your professor.

"Sorry, I was busy," he says, completely unbothered.

"Doing what? Beer pong practice?"

"Actually, yes," he says, grinning. "Gotta keep the skills sharp."

You groan. "Unbelievable. How am I supposed to convince my family you’re my boyfriend when you’re this… this frat boy?"

"Hey, being a frat boy isn’t a personality flaw," he says, feigning offense. "Besides, you’re the one who dragged me into this. If you wanted someone polished, you should’ve asked that guy from your bio class—what’s his name? Eric?"

"First of all, Eric has a girlfriend," you retort. "Second, I didn’t drag you into this. Madeleine did."

"Same difference," he says with a shrug.

You glare at him, but he just smiles, annoyingly relaxed.

This was going to be a long week.

-

You figure a visit to the Christmas market downtown might help you get some convincing couple photos. But of course, Jungwon treats the whole thing like a joke.

"Hold still," you say, holding up your phone.

Jungwon drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer than necessary. "Come on, you gotta sell it, Y/N. Look like you’re in love with me."

You shove his arm off. "I can’t do that when you’re being this insufferable."

"Insufferable?" he repeats, feigning offense. "You wound me."

"You’ll live," you mutter, snapping a photo.

He peers over your shoulder at the screen. "That’s terrible. Here, let me."

Before you can protest, he takes your phone, tilts his head toward yours, and snaps a selfie. To your annoyance, it actually looks good.

"There," he says, handing the phone back to you. "You’re welcome."

You stare at the photo, trying not to notice how natural the two of you look together. "You’re so annoying."

"And yet, here we are," he says with a grin.

“Whatever.”

-

"Why do we need so much food?" Jungwon complains, trailing behind you as you push a cart through the grocery store.

"Because my family eats a lot," you say, scanning the shelves for the specific brand of cranberry sauce your mom insists on.

He picks up a box of gingerbread cookies and examines it. "Why don’t we just bring these? No one’s gonna care."

"Are you serious?" you ask, snatching the box out of his hands. "We’re not showing up with store-bought cookies. My mom would have a heart attack."

"Wow," he says, leaning against the cart. "You’re really committed to this whole 'perfect daughter' thing, huh?"

You glare at him. "Unlike you, I actually care what my family thinks."

"Touché," he says, holding up his hands in surrender. "But for the record, I think your mom would survive."

You ignore him and toss the cookies back on the shelf.

Later that night, after spending hours wrapping presents, you find Jungwon lounging on the couch in your apartment, scrolling through his phone.

"Do you ever do anything productive?" you ask, flopping down next to him.

"Define 'productive,'" he says without looking up.

"I don’t know. Something that doesn’t involve your phone or beer pong."

He smirks. "You’re obsessed with beer pong. Did someone beat you at it once or something?"

"No," you say defensively. "I just think it’s a ridiculous way to spend your time."

"Noted," he says, finally putting his phone down. "So what do you do for fun, Miss Holier-Than-Thou?"

"I read. I bake. I actually contribute to society," you say with a smug smile.

"Wow. Thrilling," he says, but there’s a teasing glint in his eye.

You roll your eyes, but before you can respond, he leans his head back against the couch and lets out a deep sigh.

"Okay, seriously, though," he says. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

"A little," you admit. "My family can be… a lot."

"I’ll survive," he says, turning to look at you. "But what about you? Are you gonna be okay?"

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard. For once, he’s not teasing or joking. He’s just… Jungwon.

"Yeah," you say softly. "I think so."

"Good," he says, smiling at you. "Because no matter how terrible this dinner is, I’ve got your back."

And just like that, the walls you’ve been trying so hard to keep up start to crack.

-

By the time Christmas Eve rolls around, you’re a ball of nerves. Jungwon picks you up in his car, looking annoyingly calm and way too good in a dark green sweater and tailored coat.

"You ready?" he asks as you slide into the passenger seat.

"Absolutely not," you reply, clutching the tin of cookies you baked as a distraction the night before.

"You’ll be fine," he says, flashing you that same dimpled smile that’s starting to become your undoing.

The moment you walk through your parents’ front door, you’re greeted by your sister, Addison.

"There she is!" Addison exclaims, pulling you into a tight hug that feels more like a performance for whoever might be watching. "And this must be Jungwon!"

Jungwon smiles politely, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you."

Addison looks him up and down, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against her champagne glass. "Wow. Y/N really outdid herself this time."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Your older sister has always had a way of making everything about her, even when it’s not supposed to be.

"Where’s Mom?" you ask, desperate to change the subject.

"In the kitchen,"s she says, waving a dismissive hand. "But don’t worry about that. We need to get a picture of the happy couple for Instagram."

Before you can protest, Addison drags you and Jungwon to the living room, posing you in front of the tree like a pair of dolls.

"Smile!" she says, her phone already snapping away.

Jungwon leans in closer, his arm sliding around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You stiffen for a moment before forcing a smile, trying not to think about how warm he feels.

"Perfect," Addison says, scrolling through the photos with a self-satisfied smirk.

Dinner is somehow both better and worse than you expected.

Your mom keeps asking Jungwon about his family, his major, and his plans after graduation, while your dad mostly nods approvingly between bites of turkey.

Your sister, however, spends the entire meal subtly (and not-so-subtly) comparing everything you’ve ever done to her own achievements.

"Oh, you’re studying business, Jungwon? That’s cute. My fiancé, Ryan, just got promoted to VP at his firm," she says with a laugh that grates on your nerves.

"That’s impressive," Jungwon says politely, but you can tell he’s unimpressed.

"And Y/N," Addison continues, turning her attention to you. "It’s so nice to see you with someone. I was starting to think you’d be single forever."

The table goes silent. Your mom tries to awkwardly steer the conversation elsewhere, but the damage is done. You feel your cheeks burn, and you suddenly lose your appetite.

After dinner, you excuse yourself, slipping out onto the back porch to get some air. The cold bites at your skin, but you don’t care. You just need a moment to breathe.

You’re staring at the snow-covered yard when the door creaks open behind you.

"Hey," Jungwon says softly, stepping outside. He shrugs off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders before you can protest.

"Thanks," you mumble, pulling the coat tighter around you.

"You okay?" he asks, leaning against the railing beside you.

"I’m fine," you lie, though your voice cracks on the last word.

Jungwon gives you a look, the kind that makes you feel like he can see right through you.

"She always does this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Addison. The perfect sister who has to be better at everything."

"You’re not supposed to do that, you know," he says lightly, gesturing towards your cigarette.

You roll your eyes and lean against the railing, lighting it with a practiced flick of your lighter. "I don’t. I barely smoke. But, you know, desperate times…"

Jungwon chuckles, his breath fogging in the cold air. "I get it."

You exhale, the smoke curls around you, rising into the frosty night. "She just knows how to get under my skin. It’s like she’s made a career out of it."

Jungwon leans next to you, resting his elbows on the railing. "I don’t know. Sounds like she’s just jealous."

You laugh humorlessly. "Of what?"

"Of you," he says simply.

You blink at him, caught off guard. "Are you serious?"

"Completely." He reaches over and plucks the cigarette from your fingers, taking an awkward, experimental puff before immediately coughing.

You burst out laughing as he doubles over, waving a hand in front of his face. "What—what are you doing?"

"Trying to figure out what the big deal is," he says between coughs, his cheeks turning pink—though whether it’s from the cold or his failed attempt at smoking, you’re not sure.

"You don’t have to join me, you know," you tease, taking it back from him.

He straightens up, giving you a sheepish grin. "I just wanted to see what you like about it."

"It’s not about liking it," you admit, tapping the ash against the railing. "It’s more—I don’t know. It gives me something to do when I feel like falling apart."

Jungwon is quiet for a moment, watching the snow-covered yard below. Then he says, "You don’t need this."

You glance at him, surprised by the softness in his tone.

"You could just… talk to me instead,” he says, his eyes meeting yours.

Your heart does that annoying flip thing again, and you quickly look away. "Talking doesn’t solve everything, you know."

"No, but it helps." He pauses, then adds with a teasing smile, "And it’s probably better for your lungs."

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. "Fine. Next time, I’ll talk to you."

"Good."

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the kind that feels rare and precious. The cigarette burns down to a stub, and you flick it into the snow, watching the ember fade out.

His presence is warm and steady, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t feel so overwhelmed.

"Thanks." You say softly. "For agreeing to this. I don't even know what I was thinking suggesting it. Addison just texted me and I freaked. I guess there was always a part of me that wanted to impress her."

Jungwon hesitates for a moment, then says, "You know, you don’t give yourself enough credit."

You glance at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"I mean��you let people like Addison make you feel small, but you’re not. You’re kind, and funny, and you care about people. That’s more than most people can say."

You stare at him, your throat tightening. "Why are you saying this?"

"Because it’s true," he says, his voice soft but certain.

You shake your head, looking down at your hands. "You don’t even know me that well."

"I know enough," he says.

There’s a long pause, and then, almost too quietly to hear, he adds, "I love you."

Your head snaps up, your heart pounding in your chest. "What?"

"I love you," he repeats, looking right at you.

"You’re insane." You say, voice barely above a whisper. "You’ve known me for a week. I'm awkward and I wouldn't make a good girlfriend. You'd be ashamed of me, you know."

"I love you, Y/N."

You're not too sure what to say, not expecting him to stand his ground so firmly.

"I didn’t expect this to happen. I thought this would just be some silly, fake thing. I don’t care if you think you’re awkward or shy or anything else. I love you exactly the way you are."

You take a shaky breath, your chest tight with emotions you don’t know how to name.

"I don’t know what to say," you admit.

"You don’t have to say anything," he says gently.

You nod, your heart still racing as he steps back inside, leaving you alone with the snow and the stars and the weight of his words.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, his cheeks pink from the cold, his eyes full of warmth and sincerity.

And then, before you can overthink it, you rise on your tiptoes and kiss him.

This time, it’s not for show. It’s not for anyone else.

It’s just for you.

[servantofthefates]

“False Alarm” Tarot Cards

The Hermit

Your first instinct might be to think, “I will die alone and unloved”. But very often, it just means your soulmate is a Virgo. Because this is Virgo’s card.

Justice

Some people draw the Justice card, and think a legal trouble is on the horizon. But often, it only means the wrongs in your life are about to be righted.

The Hanged Man

The go-to meanings for this are delays and sacrifices. But sometimes, The Hanged Man is only telling you that life is about to feel like a vacation.

The Devil

Many people are afraid that it means abuse, which it can. But in this card, the couple’s shackles are loose. So they can easily escape if they actually try.

The Tower

“My world will come crashing down!” tends to be the leading interpretation. But more often than not, it actually means, “Someone will rock your world.”

Five of Wands

This is a card of conflict, yes. But the fear it creates is unfounded. If you look at the card, no one is really hitting anyone. They are just playing around.

Nine of Wands

This one is often associated with the anxiety card, the Nine of Swords. But they are very different. In this, the enemy has already been vanquished.

Ten of Wands

Burdens. That is what everybody says. But the man in this card is not burdened by trouble. He is “burdened” by his harvest. He is bringing home the bacon.

Five of Pentacles

It can predict poverty, yes. But more importantly, it says that when poverty does come, help can be accessed. The couple is right outside a church – a sanctuary.

Seven of Pentacles

It does say, “Sorry. Keep waiting.” But what it is really saying is, “You are not waiting in vain.” Your rewards are guaranteed. They are just not ready yet.

Five of Cups

Most readers immediately see grief, and they are right. But there are two cups left standing. The future is still safe. Life still looks promising.

Eight of Cups

This card does not mean, “You are in danger. Walk away.” It means that while you are comfortable where you are, you will soon leave for a better path.

Seven of Swords

This is not always saying that you are the thief’s victim. Sometimes it means you are the one who will get away. Or that someone will sweep you off your feet.

Eight of Swords

No, you are not trapped. You are only feeling trapped. Yes, you need saving. But only from yourself. Let go of your hallucinations, and all will be well.

[bean-bean2000]

The Maid - Part 11

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, depression, mentions of suicide, despair, feeling trapped. Mentions of abuse and rape.

Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.

Thank you and enjoy!

Part 10

Series masterlist Main Masterlist

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You wake to the sun shining in from the small square window and the caws of a raven.

Sitting up slowly, you head directly to the bathroom to bathe. No thoughts have crossed your mind as you’re functioning on autopilot.

You look at your reflection and see nothing. In the deepest parts of your mind you can hear the locked chest rattling and moving to get out, much like Pandora's box, but you push it further.

Not anymore. Just focus on your job. I can’t do this anymore. For your own sanity, push them out.

You get ready for the day and head out to your first destination: the King’s bedroom.

As you perform your duties, it feels as though you’re floating. The world around you seems hazy, almost as if somebody else is controlling your body as you watch through your eyes.

You’re cleaning the room robotically, as you move around sweeping and dusting. You hear nothing besides this constant deep buzzing.

Suddenly you feel a hand wrap around your forearm and makes you turn around. You show no reaction as you’re turned to face Loki, staring at you with squinted eyes.

He’s saying something but you can’t hear until you shake your head out of the haze and focus again. You curtsy low and address him “Hello, my king. How may I be of assistance?”

He stares at you, searching your eyes. “Are you well?” he asks.

“How do you mean, my king?” you reply stoically.

He can’t find that fire behind your eyes that used to burn with defiance, nor that snarkiness he loves to see when you challenge him. He only sees empty eyes staring back at him.

“What happened?” he demands rather than asking.

“I'm unsure what you are referring to, my king. I am simply doing my job, as your maid. I’m doing as you said, your highness. I know my place.” Your eyes look sunken and void of anything.

He frowns at your reply when you turn around and continue your work as he stares at you in confusion and worry.

He steps in front of you “Stop.”

You immediately obey “Yes, my king.” and you stand there waiting for his next order.

He continues to search your eyes, not understanding how a woman with such strong character, the woman he met a few days prior who would rather be beaten than to obey an order, suddenly accept a command so easily.

He sits you down on a chair and analyzes you. He can’t sense any foreign or dark magic on you. There is no curse he can identify. He’s bewildered by your drastic change in character, until he notices this dark purple aura surrounding your body. He doesn’t understand how he hadn’t felt the presence of this magic before, but he quickly realizes that it isn’t foreign. It’s coming from within you.

Thinking out loud he says "You're not supposed to have magic. How is this possible?"

Then, he remembers something his mother had told him years ago when he was a boy:

~~~

"Mother, what do the colours I see around people mean? Everybody has a different one. Why is that?" Young Loki asks.

"My son, those colours are called auras. Everybody has a different aura depending on their type of magic that they have and use. Sometimes, people may have dormant magic, subdued from years of being unused. Those auras, are much different, however. They are usually a deep orange, which can eventually turn into another colour when and if they start using their magic again." The Allmother explains to her eldest child.

"But what about dark purple? I was reading a book in the library that mentioned dark purple auras but I wasn't able to find any details about it." the curious boy questions.

"Dark purple? That is a very rare aura... one I have not seen since our last Great War, centuries ago. A dark purple aura happens when somebody born with magic, has suffered greatly. As a result, their magic is naturally subdued, because the most dangerous and volatile person is one who uses and grows their magic through hate and pain. The dark purple aura reflects the pain and trauma they've endured and almost acts as a warning to others. It is well known by all experts of magic that a dark purple aura cannot be cleared without the affected person healing themselves fully from their trauma." she explains.

"How do you heal them?"

"That is where the issue lays, my sweet boy. Over the years we have learned that this can only happen one way: True love and complete trust. It has been noted that the only thing that can break such pain, sadness and anguish, is unconditional love. Very few cases have been recorded where one with a dark purple aura has found such love and managed to free themselves and accept their true aura, stemming from their true, healed, self." she grabs ahold of her sons hand and guides him through her garden.

"This type of magic is the most powerful and the most difficult to attain as it is not really magic at all. Nobody can simply enchant another to fall in love. The love must be true. This means, it cannot be influenced by any unnatural forces. It cannot be forced or tricked, which is why it is the most difficult ailment to cure, unfortunately. Even more so as times passes because true love has lost its meaning over the years. No book or magical spell can tell you what true love is because there is no singular definition. For a mother, it may be the love she has for her child, for another it may be their significant other, or their sibling...It differs from person to person. Sometimes, an act of true love by the affected person themselves or the one that they love, can break the dark purple aura. Unfortunately, at times, those acts of unconditional love, are fatal; sacrificing yourself for another. True love is a very fragile and fickle thing. Extremely difficult to attain but very easy to break." she sighs sadly as she walks through the mazes of her garden.

Young Loki remained silent the rest of their walk, mind reeling trying to understand what true love really means.

~~~

At that moment he decides to do the one thing he promised himself he would never do without one’s consent.

He places two fingers on your forehead, and you feel a tingle as he begins to read your mind and replay your memories. He starts from last night, with the intention of going back as far as possible to understand who you really are.

When he begins, he can see the box of emotions hidden deep within your subconscious, locked with chains and kept hidden well beyond. He replays your memories in your room and the bathroom.

He pulls back in surprise. “How did you do that?” he asks you.

You do not reply to him and stare blankly through him.

"But... if your magic is supposedly dormant, how are you able to dissociate yourself and psychologically lock your emotions away?... Can I reverse it?" he asks himself, thinking out loud.

He taps once again into your memories and chases after the locked chest hidden in the furthest part of your mind. As he begins to approach it, it moves again, further away every time. Finally, Loki decides to try halting it in its spot with his magic. When he tries to do so, a sudden intense wave of fire scorches around him. Confused, he touches it and to his surprise, he can feel the heat from the fire within your mind. As he tries to step through, a phoenix emerges and screams as it flies at him. He feels the power of the phoenix throw him backwards and he inhales deeply as he staggers back on the table in his room. He's breathing heavily, heart racing as stares at you in disbelief.

What just happened? Did she throw me out of her mind? How is that possible... that has never happened... Who are you?

"May I resume my work, my king?" you asks monotonously.

Loki shakes his head incredulously and waves his hand in the air "Yes, yes, continue. I must take my leave."

He quickly walks to the door and looks behind his shoulder before leaving, watching you broom the floor as if nothing happened.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[chiefbeifongcanrailme]

The Sphere's Embrace

I have officially finished posting to @linbeifongsweek

Here’s my submission for day 8 of Lin Beifong’s Week. You can also find it on AO3.

Pairing: Lin Beifong x Bumi

Rating: M

Art made by JadeLotus💚

The Sphere's Embrace was a cunning and formidable trap, designed to ensnare unsuspecting trespassers within its metallic grasp. At first glance, it appeared to be a massive spherical structure, looming ominously within the chamber it guarded. Its surface gleamed with a metallic sheen, betraying no hint of the danger that lay within.

It all started because because everybody loved to go out of their way to make Lin's life harder than it already was. But really, this was far from circumstantial. There was a logical series of events that had thrust Lin into this position. 

After defeating the Red Lotus, it was a rather grievous few months when Korra departed for the South Pole for her recovery. Because spirits were down, and instead of joy in the face of victory, Republic City was facing melancholy in the wake of a shattered Avatar, and all of Air Temple Island was living within the gloomy waves of despair. Because the new airbending master, Jinora came to the rescue by taking inspiration from the glory of the Yangchen festival and organized a little ritual for Korra's speedy recovery followed by a festival of merriment for all the attendees. 

Because her moronic sister said "two Beifongs are better than one" and brought her own incredibly ridiculous-looking portable prison in case any wandering Red Lotus members decided to crash their party.

The Sphere's Embrace consisted of a colossal spherical shell, constructed from reinforced platinum and intricate mechanical components concealed within its surface. Suspended above the ground, it rested upon a sturdy base, its polished exterior offering no indication of the mechanisms hidden beneath. At the center of the Sphere's Embrace lay a cozy bed, tempting weary travelers with the promise of rest. However, this seemingly inviting surface harbored a deadly secret. Embedded within the floor of the threshold, were pressure-sensitive sensors, finely tuned to detect the slightest weight. 

It was because of that final security sweep Lin did towards the end of the ritual. Because Lin just had to check out that stupid giant ball-sac of a prison that was supposedly impervious to any and all bending. Su wouldn't admit it, but Lin was certain this had Kuvira's blueprints all over. But finally, It was because she saw a pair of naked butt cheeks galivanting inside the prison. 

Lin had hopped in without a thought- ready to fight the prisoner that had already taken his rightful place.

Upon detecting the presence of an intruder, the Sphere's Embrace sprung into action with lethal precision. Bi-parting doors, seamlessly integrated into the spherical shell, would snap shut with thunderous force, sealing the victim within its metallic confines. The doors would lock with a resounding clang, rendering escape impossible from within. Those trapped within must await the mercy of their captors or the intervention of an external force to secure their freedom.

"Lin!" the naked man, she now recognized to be Bumi, shrieked in unison with the snapping doors. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—" 

Lin was panting as she frantically ran across the room looking for vulnerabilities in construction. Naturally, she failed in bending the platinum walls. The prison was well thought out, a real testament to Kuvira's cunning. The bed in the center was made entirely of wood and unbendable materials. The counter top had a straw bowl with some bananas to keep the prisoners alive, a fruit with not enough water content to use to cut the platinum walls with pressure. Certainly, even lightning couldn't break a metal this dense and durable- maybe slightly damage it- but Suyin made sure it was flawless.

"What are you doing in here?" she managed to berate. 

Thankfully, he had the decency to cover his genitals with his hands. "I just wanted to have a look at—"

"And where are your clothes?" 

"They're outside- are- are we trapped in here?" he asked, cowering. 

"What do you think, Wan Shi Tong?" 

"Sheesh there's no need to be—”

"We're fucking trapped in Suyin's bending-proof platinum nut sac!" 

"Relax, Lin. Someone's going to notice we're missing and—”

"No?!" she cried, a pitch higher, "they're going to assume we left- like the rest of the crowd." 

"Tenzin's going to notice I'm not—”

"Is he?" she screamed. "Or is he going to assume you bailed to go party in the city like always?" 

"Okay you have a point there," he admitted. "But—”

"Oh, fuck me, Bumi—”

"Gladly! I'm ready. You're the one still wearing clothes," he said all too seriously.

"Stop trying to—” Lin shook her head and swallowed on her dry throat, dumbfounded. "What did you say?" 

"It would be a honor to fuck you," he said, bowing in reverence. Lin couldn't decide if her heart was racing because her blood was boiling or she was actually considering his offer. Bumi had totally transformed since his retirement- he looked good, but more importantly, he looked good naked. His body was toned like never before- leaner but just as burly as he used to be in his prime. 

She realized she hadn't responded and she didn't want him getting ideas. "Shut up, Bumi." 

"Fine, your loss," he shrugged. 

Bumi sat atop at the foot of the bed while Lin continued to look around. He observed the way she scuttled about, her eyes were blown wide with frenzy governing her every movement. It had been a while since he had spent any one-on-one time with Lin, and the last time he did, he had almost asked her out to dinner. You see, he wasn't lying about it being an honor to fuck her. He meant it. And that nonchalant candor was the best way conceal those jitters he felt around her. 

"How are you not freaking out?" she asked. 

"I mean, we're trapped." he said. "There's no way out. And there's no point in freaking out." 

Lin didn't stop to roll her eyes like Bumi imagined. Instead she was shaking. And suddenly, he remembered. Lin had always been a little claustrophobic. 

"Hey, why don't you have a seat for a moment." 

She gave him an incredulous look. 

So he stood up, hand still against his crotch so as to not flash Lin as he made his way over to her. "Relax, Linny. I'm going to get us out of here, okay?" 

"Bumi—" 

"Shhhhh," he said, rubbing her arm affectionately. "Why don't you lie down on the bed for a moment?" 

"Bumi, I—" 

"Just one moment. A tiny one, please?" 

Lin sighed, but she relented. As she got to the bed, covered in red bedsheets and a matching duvet, she looked over at Bumi's naked form and then stared at the bed. He had his bare buttocks on these very sheets just a second ago. Somehow, that idea didn't bother as much. He was just Bumi, at the end of the day. Bumi who wore bottomless chaps to his brother's anointment. Bumi who ate and drank like a bottomless pit. Bumi who'd side with her whenever Suyin was being a menace. Bumi, who comforted her after Tenzin ended things with her. And that's when she realized- he was trying to comfort her, before her train of thought left the station with- Bumi whose buttocks she really wanted to grab with a firm—

"On the bed now, Linny." 

She shook her head and lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Can you now tell me why you're naked?" 

"Oh," he replied. "I wanted to check this prison out, but if I stepped in- the way you did- it'd shut down. So, I was using airbending to float around and I didn't want my clothes to get in the way." 

"Oh," she commented with surprise in her voice. "That's actually clever." 

"What can I say, I am a clever man, Linny." 

She rolled her eyes. "Can you not call me that?" 

"I don't think I can," he replied. 

When Lin felt a depression on the bed, she glanced to her side to see him smiling down at her. He stroked her hair gently and said, "We'll get you out of here, okay?" 

"Bumi, I'm fine. I just don't want to be stuck in here." 

"Lin, you're brave. And you can be brave every day of your life. But today, you don't have to. I can take care of you." 

She sat up, resting on her palms. "Why are you being so nice to me?" 

Bumi snorted. "I'm always nice to you." 

She couldn't argue there. It wasn't as if Bumi irritated her on purpose. Maybe she could afford to loosen up a little. Maybe she could be nicer to Bumi going forward. He was kind, funny in the way she hated, ridiculous, infuriating, and smart in the silliest ways, but spirits if he wasn't endearing.

"We should really find a way out," she said. 

"Linny, how? Nobody would be able to hear us scream." 

Narrowing her eyes at the nickname, instead of addressing it, she said, "So what now?"

"Try to look at the bright side!" he suggested, jovially. "You're getting uninterrupted Bumi time! And I'm naked and it's okay because I'm hot now. Don't think I didn't see your eyes on my ass." 

Lin's cheeks turned pink with embarrassment, and Bumi took that as his cue to proposition her again. 

"There's a bed too. And it's Suyin's. Why not mark our territory?" 

"Bumi," she whispered. 

His hand slowly traversed the length of her arm. Her eyes thirstily followed the delicate movement of his fingers until they reached her chin, at which point, he used one finger to tilt her head up towards him. 

"Nobody will hear us scream." 

"What if someone does come lurking around here?" 

"Then, I'll hide you under the bed, get rescued naked and give you the perfect window to escape and then never speak about this again." 

Lin couldn't help but smirk. "That does sound enticing." 

"And I'm still not hearing a no," 

Lin grabbed his face and slammed her mouth against his. He hummed when her tongue entered his mouth as his hand roamed up and across her torso. With each hand he squeezed her breasts as she climbed atop him. Lin was ravenous and Bumi was all she craved- and he knew that too. And in no world would he want her any less than she wanted him in that moment. Bumi tightened his arms around her back and tossed her down onto the mattress. She landed with a fluffy thud just as Bumi's lips found her neck. Her hands ruffled through his wild hair. 

Bumi couldn't remember for how long he had wanted this- his brain had turned to mush. He ran one hand down her breasts, straight through the slim gap between her belly and waistband and massaged her inner thigh perfectly- Lin had to moan to let him know. 

"Louder," he growled. 

She did not want to test that hypothesis- because what if someone did hear them? Suyin wasn't perfect. So she pulled his mouth on hers to shut them both up.

And that was how Lin Beifong had found herself quite literally thrust in that position.

She found out about an hour later when nobody came running to the trap, as she came, screaming into glory, that the trap was indeed sound proof. She came and then she came another time- her mind was in lost in the clouds of divine bliss. 

Lin offered up her handkerchief to him to wipe himself up. There was no telling how long they'd been fucking or how late into the night it had now become where they had been laying in bed holding each other. Bumi had been peppering her cheek and shoulder with soft kisses as they fell in and out of sleep. And it wasn't until morning- or so they thought- when they wordlessly began again on a string of kisses. 

Food and water had become all the needs of the sexless. With Lin in his arms, he had everything he needed to survive. 

"I might be getting addicted to you," he whispered by her jaw as he got on top of her. Lin pushed a wild strand of his hair behind his ear before he dipped back down to kiss her. 

"We all have our vices," Lin replied on his mouth. 

"Still wanna get out of here?" 

"You'd have to forcibly pry me out of this place." 

Bumi chortled and doubled down on her. There was something to be said about the way this prison had become their own perfect bubble. It was the embrace of the Sphere's Embrace. Whatever their relationship was outside of this bubble had no hold over them while they ravaged the each other. There were no thoughts of ramifications, no worries of what this meant- it was a pure expression of flooding desire- indomitable, delirious desire. 

Lin placed her hands against the platinum wall over the bed as Bumi rammed into her from behind. His hands were grasping her ass when she led one over her thigh and down in between her legs. He didn't need to be told what to do there, because by now, he knew her body better than he knew his own. 

"I'm getting close," she moaned, as he picked up the pace. His hands were flawlessly menacing her clit, making her whole body scream and sweat with endorphins. Had she known before hand how well their bodies complemented each other, she would've jumped him well before he ever left for the United Forces. 

"I can't tell you how long I've wanted this, Lin," he said, verbalizing her exact thoughts. 

She felt his teeth on her back and then she couldn't resist it anymore. 

"FUCK—" she screamed. "BUMI- I'M—" her voice wavered from a shrill moan into a throaty grunt from the high. 

"Shit," Bumi cussed at the sight before him. 

A sizzling sound broke through both their moans as Bumi crashed on top of her. Her hands had seemingly crumbled and broken through the sturdy walls of their personal bubble. There was now a massive hole in the wall, as the fresh breeze from the Island wafted inside. The nesting warmth of their ecosystem was gone. It was all cool winds. 

Bumi was still recovering, shifting beside her to spoon her from behind as Lin caught her breath. 

"We're free," he coughed. 

Lin whimpered, still getting off the high, unable to register what Bumi was talking about. She was still sensitive, groaning when Bumi rubbed her arm to catch her attention. 

"You broke the wall," he panted. "We're free to leave." 

Catching on, Lin quickly sat up in bed to see that the wall behind the bed had indeed disintegrated. 

"How did... " she stared at her hands in disbelief. 

Bumi sat up too, knitting his eyebrows together. "Did you bend platinum?" 

Lin huffed, not looking away from her hands. "Did I?" 

"I think I did," 

She glanced back up at the wall and then slowly brought her hands to it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling at her element encased within what was known to be the purest form of metal. Bumi admired her naked form as she concentrated and within moments, to his shock, the wall tore open. 

She gaped at him with shock and he returned the same look of incredulity. It was dark outside, which meant that it had been a full day since their entrapment. As far as Lin knew, the Beifongs of Zaofu were living at Air Temple Island during their visit, so a sneaky, quiet exit was prudent. Luckily, Bumi had left his glider and clothes right behind a tree close to the Sphere's Embrace. 

Wordlessly, he got dressed as Lin followed his shadow behind the tree. In a moment, he had his arm around her waist, the other holding up the glider as they took flight. 

Heads down, they were silent the whole way to the city. They hadn't exchanged a single word since they had stepped outside the Sphere's Embrace. It had been a challenging twenty-four hours- especially now that they both fell victim to the phenomenon of some kind of captivity attachment. 

Once they reached the threshold of her house, it was Bumi who finally cleared throat to terminate the silence. They surely had the same thoughts resounding in their minds that neither wanted to be the first to verbalize. 

As she unlocked the door, Bumi stepped forward. "Can I come inside?" 

Lin gave him what he thought to be the sexiest smile he had ever seen. 

He took that as a yes and followed her in, shutting the door behind him. 

Ultimately, while the collapse of the Sphere's Embrace could be a painful and transformative experience into reality, it offered the chance for renewal and the possibility of creating new spheres of embrace that are even more fulfilling and enduring than before. As it turned out, Bumi had found his life-partner in the world's first platinum bender. 

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Somehow, Through the Storm

Summary:

Living in the slums of the Warehouse District, Kaz and Inej are struggling to cling on to life through a seemingly unending winter. Wrapped up in a stranger's overcomplicated marriage contract that he is convinced is key to solving the merciless weather, Kaz remains busy and distracted for days on end, putting everything else at risk. So when a storm ravages the city and sweeps Inej into danger, the offer of safety, food, and a place to stay is an overwhelming one - no matter the cost. Terrified of mounting threats, Inej signs a contract - not knowing she would land herself trapped at the Menagerie. Kaz signs a contract that states if he can walk all the way through the city and back to the Warehouse District with Inej behind him, never looking back at her, they will both go free. But this is the Barrel, the darkest part of the city where the rules of physics can change with the stroke of a pen; the journey back will not be the same as journey there…

This is a Hadestown-inspired reimagining of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, casting Kaz and Inej as our main characters and heavily featuring our beloved Crows, set in an alternate version of the Grishaverse with a different magic system based entirely on contracts.

Tags: @lunarthecorvus @marielaure @multi-fandom-bi @igotthisaccountunderduress @thelibraryofalexandriastillburns @devoted-people-hater @spraypaintstainonawhitewall

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list let me know <3

Warnings for this chapter: implied past sa references, ptsd references, gambling addiction references, imprisonment references, implied slavery references (similar to Kerch indenture contracts)

AO3 link:

Chapter 8 - Kaz

“Now not everybody gets to be a god, and don’t forget that times are hard”

- Road to Hell, Hadestown

By the time Kaz returned to the Slat over an hour after dawn, his constant companion of exhaustion beginning to tug at the edges of his tapestry in a threat to pull him under, he was expecting Inej to be long gone. It hadn’t seemed, when they’d last spoken, that she’d be all too eager to stick around. Instead, he found her lying on her side in the attic, still deep beneath the surface of sleep. She was crowned by a wreath of braids, curled on her side with her knees pulled high and her hands tucked into her, as though she were tending to some precious, secret something held close against her chest. For a moment, and it was only brief, Kaz watched the rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed. This was perhaps the only time he’d seen her without perfect posture, and her angular shoulders leaned into each other like they were trying to hide her collar bone, slightly visible where the fabric of her blouse had been tugged downwards in sleep, out of sight from the world. Her arm was looped around the strap of her bag, and from its proximity Kaz thought that she might have been holding the satchel next to her on the mattress, but that it had slipped away from her when she fell asleep. He paused. 

You can stay here tonight. 

Where… What about you? 

Inej’s hesitancy had been a quaver in her voice, her dark, endless eyes flitting from Kaz to the door behind him. Now she lay on top of the blanket, despite the chill in the air, with Kaz’s pillow pushed aside and what looked like it might have been a shirt folded up beneath her head. A set of brass knuckles, which hadn’t really been what Kaz meant when he’d said she needed a weapon but he supposed wasn’t a bad start, had slid down her fingers when her hand relaxed and now lay half against the mattress and half over her fingertips. There was something else metal glinting on the bed, just slightly; something lying motionless beneath the cuff of Inej’s sleeve, catching a weak sunbeam leaking through the window making a valiant attempt at glimmering. Kaz didn’t dare to step any closer to the partitioning wall across the room, but only to lean slightly until his eyeline had shifted enough that the reflection dimmer and he could make out the shape of a key discarded on the mattress. The key to his window. 

He left the room as quietly as he could manage, thinking to but paused at the top of the stairs. He definitely shouldn’t lock the door, he knew that. But what if Haskell came prying? It wasn’t unreasonable to expect it. Kaz doubted more than two days ever went by without the old man rummaging around, though what he was hoping to find he wasn’t actually sure. Probably just loose cash, or anything incriminating Kaz had left lying around that he might be able to extort him for. Kaz had never been concerned about this; he was too careful, nothing of his side business with the contracts ever reached the attic of the Slat, and anything that was worth keeping hidden was hidden well. Haskell was yet to try tearing up the floorboards, but Kaz had a backup plan lay in wait in case he ever decided to give it a go. 

But if Haskell walked up and found Inej, asleep on top of Kaz’s mattress? He couldn't imagine it would end well for anyone involved, but least of all Inej.

Kaz had spent the night working in the upper room at Lexi’s long after Nina had to return to the Barrel, and walked back through the Warehouse District under the golden bleach of dawn. Well, golden was perhaps to kind a word for what the last rays of the sunrise had been; the sun was a watered down beam of sickly yellow, pooling in the cracks beneath the cobblestones without any warmth of brightness to it, no real beauty to find in its pitiful reflections. The shadows were still long, as they would most likely remain until midday began to draw near, and the front of the Slat had been cast in ghostly grey as he approached. Not that sunshine falling on its crumbling facade had ever made the building feel much more inviting. 

The building had been sleepy enough when Kaz crossed the threshold, other than maybe the early afternoon these were the slowest hours for the house’s boarders to be out on the old man’s business, but it was never exactly quiet. Kaz lingered at the top of the stairs, listening through his door for any movement from Inej - though it was unlikely he’d be able to tell if she woke, wasn’t it? She would most likely leave in silence, leaving no-one any the wiser. He couldn’t trust the possibility of her absence though, nor the possibility that Haskell wasn’t home, or wouldn’t happen to wander his way upstairs before she left. Downstairs he could hear voices, creaking floorboards, what might have been a mug or plate falling and smashing on the boards. 

Kaz beckoned Jesper across the room as soon as he’d stepped foot back onto the ground floor of the Slat, where the front space opened into a vaguely larger area that was used as a communal space for - well, mostly for drinking as far as Kaz could tell. He didn’t enjoy the closeness of the space, nor the oppressive heat that seemed to come with it from so many bodies so tightly slotted together, and so spent very little of his time there, but always it seemed that people were drinking, and probably partaking in less legal pastimes as well. Jesper gandered across the room, slipping his way around crowds and mismatched tables that had been rather squashed into place, 

“I need you to keep an eye out for the old man,” Kaz told him, keeping his voice low and trusting that the sound of the crowds would do the rest for him, “Keep him out of my room,”

“Why-?” Jesper broke off as he caught Kaz’s gaze, “Yeah, alright, fine. Where are you going?”

Kaz wasn’t entirely confident in that. He probably shouldn’t go back to Lexi’s when he’d been there all night; it was good of her to give him the space, but she didn’t owe him anything and her patience was bound to wear thin at some point. Kaz happened to be an excellently sharp knife when it came to fraying people’s patience. 

“I shouldn’t be longer than a few hours,” was what he settled on saying, after a brief pause, “When are you leaving?”

“Why do you assume I’m leaving?”

It took nothing more than Kaz raising a single eyebrow for Jesper to relent. He spent the vast majority of his time in the gambling parlours on the edge of the Warehouse District, where the buildings began to give way into the pleasure district that was the Barrel; if he wasn’t on his way back from one, he was probably on his way to it. Most of the city’s gambling dens were deep in the Barrel, glittering things festooned in gaudy baubles and studding East Stave like ill-set, glass gems in an ugly piece of costume jewellery. Jesper had never been stupid enough to venture farther than the seedy dens on the south of the Warehouse District, but Kaz didn’t entirely trust that he never would. 

“I can wait a few hours,”

“Good. If you see Anika tell her to take her report to Lexi’s; I’ll pick it up from there,”

Jesper nodded, but if he was planning on saying anything in response then Kaz didn’t find out; he was already on his way out of the building. He flexed his fingers in his gloves, stretching them back and forth over the head of his cane. Pain was radiating from his bad leg, always worse in the cold as it was, and he knew that it would soon put up further protest at his refusing to rest for so long. But Kaz had already decided where he was going, and the walk would be worth it. 

On the border between the Barrel and the Warehouse District, farther North than the shanty towns and the border stone he usually met Nina at, the factories and storage facilities began to give way to sleazy bars, the gambling parlours that Jesper disappeared into so often, and even a few small brothels tucked into hidden spaces. It was the edge of both of them, towing the line between the pleasure district and the slums, doing its level best to cater to them both. And there, around two thirds down the road, an abandoned building with a black and crimson facade. 

It had been boarded up by the city, barricaded and blocked off with enough purple stadwatch signs and warnings to keep most squatters at bay, but nowhere in Ketterdam stayed empty for long. There wasn’t the space to waste. If no-one bought the lot then it would soon be torn down, something new and governmentally owned quickly erected to replace it. But not if Kaz had anything to do with it. He stood before the battered old door, staring up at the sign above it - a massive crow wrought in black metal, a watchful, oxidised silver eye gleaming as it peered out into the street below. How much more money did he need? How much longer could he keep the wrecking ball at bay?

This club would be his. He would make it so. His house, his business. He could separate from Haskell, probably even take half his boarders with him in the process, and start his own operation. He could get Jordie his revenge at last.

From the right angle, in the distance, Kaz could just about see the colourful outline of the Emerald Palace on the horizon, the canals and the Staves of the Barrel nothing but a blurry haze laid out at its feet. The Emerald Palace was the crown of Pekka Rollins’ kingdom. Some day Kaz would be its end, and this building could be the start of it. This building, and the intelligence Inej brought him, the jobs that only Jesper could pull off, everything Nina could do on the inside. And, he thought, slipping a hand into his pocket and finding the envelope tucked in quiet, cosy secrecy, the key to bringing a city to its knees might have very recently wandered straight into his path. 

“Kaz, I’m telling you,” Nina had emphasised last night, settling deeper into her chair, “You know everything that I know. You know I can’t stay; what else do you want from me?”

“I want you to give me something useful,” he’d insisted, “There has to be something we’re missing,”

Nina sighed. 

“Probably. Definitely. But we aren’t going to figure it out by saying the same thing back and forth to each other. We know Wylan is alive, we know his parents are still claiming that he’s dead, and we know that he’s left the Geldin District-”

“But why?”

Nina looked like she was about ten seconds away from banging her head repeatedly against the table, but Kaz was used to having that effect on people and he was all out of sympathy. 

“I. Don’t. Know,” she’d enunciated for the hundredth time, “For Saints’ sakes, Kaz, just go and ask him at this point. I’m tired, and I need to get back,”

Kaz had irritatedly let her go and continued working alone. He knew that she was right - not only that they were going round in circles but also that she couldn’t stay any longer; it was running a close enough risk for her to leave the Barrel in the first place. Nina spent as little time in the Barrel as she could reasonably get away with, but no matter how malleable her boundaries were they still had to have a breaking point; Kaz would not recommend trying to find it. 

He very much doubted that Nina had actually expected him to find the boy and do exactly as she had suggested. But the boarding house he was staying in was just a few streets from here, and Kaz did just so happen to have a letter addressed to Wylan Van Eck sitting in his pocket. 

The kid did not look thrilled to open the door and see Kaz on the other side of it, but that wasn’t particularly surprising. He frowned, already pushing the door shut again, as he said: 

“I gave you an answer. Leave me alone,”

Kaz’s foot found a comfortable spot between the door and its frame. 

“I’m not here to offer you a job,” he said, “Though it is still open if you change your mind,”

Wylan glared unhappily at Kaz’s shoe blocking the door and for a moment Kaz thought he would neglect to answer. His voice was impatient when he finally sighed: 

“What do you want, then?” 

Kaz flicked his wrist so the letter, Wylan’s real surname in black ink on creamy paper, a seemingly unbroken red wax seal embossed with a laurel holding it closed, appeared between his black gloved fingers. 

“I believe I have something of yours. And I believe we may have something to discuss, Van Eck,”

The colour had drained so thoroughly from Wylan’s cheeks that someone might have been physically wringing him dry. His jaw ticked, his eyes unmoving from the envelope in Kaz’s hand. 

“So you took it,”

Kaz shrugged.

“I was starting to hope I’d just imagined it,”

“Unfortunately not,” Kaz replied, “Hope never gets you far round here. But a name as good as – what? Thirty million kruge, maybe? That should get you pretty far,”

Wylan’s lips twisted, his gaze finally returning to Kaz’s - frightened eyes hiding behind a hard stare. 

“What do you want?”

“I told you,” Kaz smiled, slipping the letter back into his pocket and watching as Wylan’s eyes flicked to trace the movement, “I just want to talk,”

There was a brief pause; Wylan glanced furtively down the empty corridor, then over his own shoulder, and then furiously beckoned Kaz through the door. Kaz smiled again, straightening out his shirt cuffs and stepping over the threshold. 

“Much obliged,”

[pandemic-info]

https://twitter.com/RealGayArbys/status/1700539156403830862

Making sweeping generalizations about how "everyone" is acting right now will not bring clarity or understanding to this moment. The truth is, humanity is not a monolith. And we are being cut off from one another/hidden from view, & not seeing a lot of what's actually going on.

I am begging yall to stop erasing those of us who DO CARE with your thoughtless word choices. "Nobody is wearing a mask anymore" is a distortion and a lie. You are not the only person in your community wearing a mask. You are not the lone person who gives a shit.

No matter where you live, I promise you there are disabled people who are trapped at home right now. And you contribute to their erasure when you say "no one in my city gives a shit." The people you're seeing out and about are not "everybody." You need to remember this.

Every time you say: 'hardly anyone cares,' 'no one is wearing a mask,' 'most people have just given up'? You are repeating right-wing talking points & you are personally distorting the truth. The truth is, we have no reliable way of knowing what percentage of us are still trying.

[purpleprincessonfyre]

OUAT AU - I Know Places

Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Ethane - Ethan Lensherr x Liane Felton

Fantasy AU

Inspired by the song I Know Places (Taylor's Version)

"They got their cages,

they got their boxes,

And guns.

They are the hunters, we are the foxes,

My love."

The woods darkened by the second as Ethan's horse cantered through the thorns and brush towards the tall twisted tower in the distance. His sword at his side, his helmet lowered, he was ready to kill this creature on sight for her wrong doings. Who would curse an innocent princess like that? And why? As soon as the curse had been lifted, the King had offered a heavy bounty for anyone who slayed the monster and brought back her head. Ethan was never one to pass up an opportunity for vengeance.

As he reached the twisted tower he heard no sound from the outside. Perhaps he was walking into a trap? He dismounted his horse, drew his sword and entered through the creaking, splintered door, making his way up the winding staircase as the wind whistled through every crack and crevice in the tower walls. Ethan had been told the creature was a vile and hideous woman with a heart as black as ink and terrifying powers. But that didn't scare him.

As he reached the top steps he heard a slight sound coming from the floor above, it sounded like...crying? The closer he got the louder the sound became and he gripped his sword tighter, ready to find an innocent soul trapped in this wicked tower.

Instead he saw a young woman, curled up in a corner, head between her knees sobbing. Her long purple tresses were being swamped by bright blonde roots, long curving black horns protruded from her head and scars ran down her tearstained cheeks and neck as she sobbed.

The knights presence became known as he entered and Ethan was suddenly looking directly into deep purple eyes. He knew those eyes well...it couldn't be! His mind reached back to a simpler time and instead of seeing this woman he instead saw a young girl with bright blonde hair, short black horns and huge sweeping wings on her back, giggling and smiling....

"Something happens when

Everybody finds out.

See the vultures circling dark clouds."

"Who are you?" The young girl demanded, pointing a long stick at the young boy, her purple eyes filled with determination.

"I'm not a monster, I promise!"

"But you are a human, right?"

"I...well-"

"You're trespassing in the realm of the Fae."

"The Fae- ohhhhh. That's why father said not to step on those circles of mushrooms..."

"You...you entered a fairy circle?"

"Yes?"

The young girl chuckled, trying to look serious but couldn't help herself but laugh.

"Hey!"

"Sorry but that is your own fault. You shouldn't have stepped in the circle."

"Just...can you put the stick down?"

"It's my stick."

"Please?" His green eyes pleaded with her as she frowned, unsure of whether this boy was trustworthy.

"You promise not to hurt the fairies? Or our land?"

"Cross my heart." And he did so.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it."

"So why are you here then?"

"I'm a fairy too."

The boy frowned, looking her up and down, noting her dirty bare feet, her ragged dress and her horns.

"Y'don't look like any fairy I know."

"What do you think we look like?"

"I dunno. Smaller, they wear flower colours, they have wands. And they have wings."

"I have wings too!" The girl retorted, indignant.

"Well, can I see them then?"

"See what?"

"Your wings, silly!"

"That's a bit rude, you can't ask to see my wings."

"Well then I guess you haven't got any..." The boy said, sniffing. The girl grimaced before arching her back very deliberately and out came two large, feathery, purple wings from her back. The boy looked on in awe.

"Wow! They're so pretty! And they match your eyes!"

"Thanks...I'm Liane."

"Ethan, nice to meet you."

"Lights flash and we'll run for the fences,

Let them say what they want

We won't hear it.

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time,

Not this time."

Ethan blinked and there was his childhood fairy friend, Liane, crying on the floor in the dark tower.

"Liane?"

"Ethan....I'm sorry."

"You cursed the Princess?!"

"It was foolish, I know!"

"You're the monster?"

"Thanks.." she spat bitterly, tears still rolling her cheeks.

"But why?"

"Jealousy, selfishness, pride, envy, just kill me already! I know that's why you're here! Yes I cursed the Princess to prick her finger and die! Yes my plan failed miserably! Yes I feel awful! Now just kill me, you idiot!" She screamed, her eyes now glowing purple as she sat there, waiting for her death.

Ethan looked her in the eye, held up his sword, and dropped it at her feet.

"I can't kill you."

"What?"

"I can't do it, Liane."

"Why not!"

"Because I care about you, you stupid fairy! I've always cared about you."

"You have?"

"Yes. You can make rash decisions, you get jealous, you're uncouth, you say things that would make Kings blush but I love all of those things. You matter to me."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart.." he smiled, taking her hand and helping her to her feet, noticing something on her back. Something rigid that used to feel soft and feathery. Something that felt raw. Like it had been sliced away from her body.

"Your back...it's-"

"Don't." She cut in, flinching away from him as he grazed her back with his fingers.

"Where are your wings?"

"Ethan stop it."

"I'm asking, where are they?"

"Please..."

"WHERE ARE YOUR WINGS?!"

"Love's a fragile little flame it could burn out,

It could burn out..."

"Can I touch them?" A slightly older than before Ethan asked, admiring her wings the way he always did.

"Um, as long as you're gentle, then yes." Liane held out her wing to Ethan, letting him stroke it. As his hand touched her feathery wing, it felt like stroking a soft bed, so smooth and so warm to the touch. He smiled.

"Well?"

"They're so soft! And fluffy!"

"Thank you.." she smiled, a soft blush creeping into her cheeks as her continued to stroke her wing like she was an injured bird or a scared horse. It was comforting in a strange way. Like the way her mother used to stroke her hair when she was little.

"Can we go flying now?"

"What's the magic word?"

"Please?" Ethan begged, his big green eyes as round as marbles as Liane relented, taking hold of him by the waist firmly, her eyes turning to the skies as they began to ascend, swooping and soaring through the trees and into the clouds as Ethan whooped and giggled, Liane smiling and chuckling as they flew so effortlessly through the sky.

The feeling of flying on Liane's wings was like nothing else mattered, just him and her in the wind and the breeze for as long as they pleased. He felt safe in her arms and knew she would never let him come to harm.

"Just grab my hand don't ever drop it,

My love..."

"It was my price for the curse!" She howled, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed. "I wanted to curse the future Queen as payback for what the King and his men did to my land so I went to The Dark Prince for a curse!

"He told me it would cost me dearly and he said he would take from me something precious. Something I can't live without. My wings...I was blinded by greed and anger, I agreed and he promised that when I succeeded he would return me my wings with the knowledge that I would owe him from then on. He took that horrible blade and cut them off, displaying them in his disgusting castle like a trophy! But I failed....and now I can never have them back!" She sobbed, stroking her now raw and rigid back mournfully.

Ethan sighed and tried to console her but rage of his own was festering in his heart as she spoke. Learning that his closest friend had made a deal and had her wings clipped by the most powerful man in the realm for a curse made him more than angry. His heart now ached for the woman he had grown to love, holding her fast as she cried harder and harder.

"You have to go, they'll kill you too for betraying the king."

"I'm not going to leave you here."

"Ethan please-"

"Come with me." His eyes were inviting and warm, his gauntleted hand holding tight to hers. He wanted to take her away from all this, take her far away from the Kings and their knights. He pulled off his helmet and tossed it to the ground as a sign he wouldn't break this promise.

"They'll come for both of us."

"Let them. We'll keep running. You and I can leave this place, my horse will take us to greener pastures, we need nothing but ourselves for company. For the rest of forever you are mine, Liane."

"I...I love you. I've always loved you."

He kissed her, holding her tight as his lips crashed against her darkened, cracked lips, watching as the fire in her eyes calmed and her heart beat started to slow. His hand went to her stained hair and he held her like he was never letting go.

The two mounted the horse as the sun started to set in the west, Liane covered her head with her cloak carefully, holding on tight to Ethan's waist as they looked towards the thicket in the distance.

"Let's leave this awful forest."

"Together."

"For now and for always."

And they rode off into the waning night, from anyone who would want them dead, heading for a life far quieter and far simpler than the ones cut out for them.

"(I) In the dead of night

Your eyes so green....

(Hide) And I know for you

It's always me."

Thanks for reading!

@jackiequick @gcthvile @cherrysft @blueboirick @meiramel @ask-starrk @ask-missparker @askstevella @finlayholmes @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @therealdaydreamstark @thechoooooosenone @wizzzardofoz

[purrassicjet]

I've never done WIP Wednesday before, and I may even be late to it, but here's the half-chapter I wrote for Ivy on the Trees before I lost interest in it. I may return to finish it/the fic one day, but for now, here:

From the chapter "Party Policies":

The door creaked as Ivy tried to sneak into class. Usually, she’d be good at this, but she couldn’t help her environment. She winced and slid through the small crack she had opened up, jogging around the edge of the room to minimise the risk of people staring. It didn’t work, she could feel the class’s eyes boring into her back, but she tried to ignore it. She hadn't attended one of these classes in a long while, she supposed it was a surprise to see her there. 

At least Oisin looked happy to see her when she walked up. The tip of his tail twitched when he noticed her approaching, his grin wide and excited. Her heart soared and she jogged the last few steps towards him. 

“Ivy!” He called out in a whisper-shout, beckoning her over to the Rat Grinder's table, “We haven't started yet. You're just in time! I'm so glad you're here.” 

There was a ‘We're lost without you’ implied there that made Ivy smile.

She smiled and slid into her seat between Oisin and Ruben, shuffling so she was sitting closer to Oisin than to Ruben, who was still giving her nervous glances. Just as she sat, the teacher, who’s name Ivy could never remember, tapped on the board, calling the class to attention.

“Alright, everybody. You know the drill by now. Your time starts… now.”

Ivy switched her gaze quickly from the board to the projection table in front of her, sharp ears picking up the soft click of the timer starting. Two hellhounds appeared on the table, growling menacingly despite their small size, surrounded by a red rocky terrain. 

Ruben said, “Hellhound, large-” at the same time as Ivy leaned over the table and started saying “Hellhound. Fiend-”

They locked eyes for a second. 

“I do the readouts on the enemies.” Ivy stated bluntly, giving Ruben a stare. 

“Well,” He spluttered, “You haven't been here in a while and-” 

“You're wrong as well.” She interrupted, conscious of their minute ticking away, “A hellhound is a medium fiend, not a large one. No wonder you've been doing poorly without me, you can't even get basic facts right.” She didn't realise quite how much venom was in her voice until Oisin gave her a warning kick under the table. 

She whined and hissed at him, but took a deep and purposeful breath, “Sorry, Ruben. I repeat, the hellhound is a medium fiend and-” 

Her stomach lurched painfully as she was hit with a teleportation spell she wasn't ready for. She was deposited on the floor of a desert-like area with the sound of a dog growling nearby. 

“Asshole!” Ivy exclaimed, wheeling on Ruben in frustration. She knew she shouldn't be reacting like this, that she was supposed to be trying to reconcile with her party, but she couldn't help feeling the anger bubble up inside of her. “If you had just let me do the readout, we would have had time to actually discuss!”

“If you had actually attended classes, I wouldn't have needed to!” Ruben yelled back, waving his ukelele around in frustration. He had been much quicker to stand. 

She opened her mouth to talk back, but the beginnings of bright orange light hit the edges of her vision. “Everybody get down!” She yelled, scrambling across the sandy ground and tackling Ruben. Her back heated as fire passed above her. She shut her eyes tightly until it was finished. 

“Woah, Ivy-” 

“Shut up. Later.” Ivy rolled off of him, eyes sweeping for her fellow party members. Lucy was patting out a fire on Oisin's back, but other than that, everybody looked fine. 

“What I was trying to say was that hellhounds usually travel in packs. If there are two, chances are there are more!” She grabbed the bow she dropped when she teleported, pulling an arrow out of her quiver and nocking it back. 

“I think I can trap these two.” Oisin piped up, magic swimming around his hands, “They're made of fire, right Ivy?” 

“Yeah.”

“Then this should be helpful.” Magical energy concentrated in a ball in front of him, and once he released it, it took on a watery appearance. The ball shot towards the attacking hellhounds, growing as it went on, so much that once it reached them, it efficiently engulfed most of their bodies, trapping them in place. 

[bafflement]

Deaged Oz AU - After The Meeting

Tip looked up as a knock sounded at the door to the set of rooms they all shared in Atlas. He wasn't expecting anyone, but everybody else was away at the moment. He shrugged, putting his book down and getting to his feet, maybe they were after Qrow?

Moving over to the door, though, it revealed a boy not much older than Tip was, who blinked down at him in surprise.

"Uh... Wintertip Pine?" The boy enquired, sounding rather doubtful.

Tip nodded. "Yes, that would be me. Why?" His hand crept towards the hilt of his rapier as he spoke, though, eyes busily scanning for anyone else that might have come with the boy. To catch him alone was rare enough that this just seemed to scream 'trap' to him.

"I have something I need to deliver to you. Your eyes only, though... I was expecting you to be rather older?" The boy shrugged and held out a bound scroll. Tip took it, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Any idea what this is about?" He asked, hoping to at least get some context clues from the strange event. Though he doubted Salem would have provided any written evidence of her plans if it was actually her, that would be so far out of character that... well, never mind.

He slit the seal open and scanned the contents, stopping halfway through to adjust his glasses slightly. The paper was a strange shade of almost purple, though the ink seemed normal enough. Was it... scented? His eyebrow rose further upon the discovery that yes, yes it was... this was not exactly normal correspondance to send to an eleven year old.

He noted the name and almost smiled. Lady Greenbriar had been the older woman on Atlas Council, the one that had taken none of James' attitude and had seemed to recognise him. He had no real memory of her, but maybe this meeting could change that?

She wanted him to come alone, which was slightly problematic, but she had specified a time about an hour from now, the others wouldn't be back yet. If he was quick enough, maybe they'd never need to know? He was pretty sure she wouldn't harm him, at least.

He smiled at the boy who'd delivered it and nodded to him. "Please inform her that I'll be there and thank you." The boy looked weirdly more intimidated by Tip's calm acknowledgement of what was really a summons than he had to delivering the letter. Ah well, maybe this wasn't the normal reaction, but Tip was highly curious now...

Picking out clothing took less time than it might have, had the lady in question not probably once been a friend of his father's. Ah well, at least Winter might be happy that he'd chosen Schnee colors for this? It felt slightly manipulative, but it could give him an advantage if the talk went south... and if Winter found out where he was, he knew she tended to be more gentle when reminded forcefully that they were related.

Brothers, but he hated doing that... he wasn't a child, he wasn't helpless... he wasn't even really that sickly anymore with the help of his aura. They needed to stop treating him as though he would break, he was an accomplished Huntsman, after all...

He froze in the doorway to the room where he had been told to meet her. She wasn't alone, a man sat with her who was familiar. Why was Lark Winchester of all people here, though? He was aware that like the Ironwoods... and the Schnee's, the Winchesters had lost a child to that same kidnapping circle, but why would he be interested in Tip, of all people? He wasn't Wren Winchester, after all... he couldn't bring her back.

A flash, then, briefest memory hitting. Wren, her blonde hair and her... oh no... her bright green eyes. He shook himself out of it, though. He had to be imagining things.

"So, this is the child you wanted me to meet, my lady?" Lark's voice was light, but his eyes were hard as he stared at the tousle haired little boy.

"Does he really look that unfamiliar to you, Lark?" Lady Greenbriar's tone held laughter, her eyes soft as she, too, looked at Tip.

"I..." Lark broke off, sweeping a second, more assessing look over Tip. He shook his head slightly, looked again. Tip felt rather like an insect under the microscope at that point, but suppressed the feeling. His shoulders straightened as he met Lark's eyes.

Lark Winchester, pillar of the community in Atlas that he was, proud chairman of the Winchester Military Equipment Company, started to swear. Lady Greenbriar looked impressed. Tip just grinned at him, which seemed to set off a fresh round of profanity, slowly getting more impressive before Lark regained control of himself.

"... Winter?" It wasn't really a question, though. Tip nodded, grin more rueful now and Lark just closed his eyes briefly.

"What happened to you? How are you... why are you...? You know what? Never mind, that can wait. I'm just so damn glad you're alive!"

Tip blushed, even as Lady Greenbriar sighed. "Unfortunately there's more to it than that, Lark. It turns out that little Winter Schnee here is the wizard."

"Excuse me?" Lark stated it flatly, disbelief in every iota of his body language.

"Unfortunately, yes." Tip agreed, calmly. He adjusted his hold on The Long Memory pointedly and Lark's eyes flew to the cane.

He promply started swearing again.

[unravelingthepages]

A Little Princess- Why this book remains a comfort read

A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett remains a comfort read and one I’ve definitely sobbed while reading. When I say sobbed, I mean bawled till my nose was runny and eyes swollen. It’s one that I have re-read multiple times over the course of a decade, from when I was a kid up till now, and each time with a different takeaway of this book, though one just as meaningful.

This book needs to be read by everybody honestly, though it is labelled a children’s book. It’s a great book to gift to kids though, so I definitely recommend doing that!

The Plot

Sara Crewe, an exceptionally intelligent and imaginative student at Miss Minchin’s Select Seminary for Young Ladies, is devastated when her adored, indulgent father dies. Now penniless and banished to a room in the attic, Sara is demeaned, abused, and forced to work as a servant. How this resourceful girl’s fortunes change again is at the center of A Little Princess , one of the best-loved stories in all of children’s literature.

Why I love it

This book has stuck with me for a long time. I can vouch that it is written fantastically well, suitable for both kids and adults. It deals with such sensitive and heartbreaking topics yet comes through with the emotions of hope and resilience, and the belief that it’ll all work out in the end.

Sara, a 7 year old, is the protagonist, and such a well-written character. Maybe she’s unrealistic or people that find the best of everything in the harshest of circumstances exist, I wouldn’t know. I do know that she was an amazing character to read about as a kid and through her, I learnt how unfair life can be but also that it does get better (even though it might not seem like it.)

“I dare say it is rather hard to be a rat,” she mused. “Nobody likes you. People jump and run away and scream out: ‘Oh, a horrid rat!’ I shouldn’t like people to scream and jump and say: ‘Oh, a horrid Sara!’ the moment they saw me, and set traps for me, and pretend they were dinner. It’s so different to be a sparrow. But nobody asked this rat if he wanted to be a rat when he was made. Nobody said: ‘Wouldn’t you rather be a sparrow?”

“Perhaps kind thoughts reach people somehow, even through windows and doors and walls. Perhaps you feel a little warm and comforted, and don’t know why, when I am standing here in the cold and hoping you will get well and happy again.”

And come on, she loved books.

“She did not care very much for other little girls, but if she had plenty of books she could console herself. She liked books more than anything else, and was, in fact, always inventing stories of beautiful things and telling them to herself.”

“Never did she find anything so difficult as to keep herself from losing her temper when she was suddenly disturbed while absorbed in a book. People who are fond of books know the feeling of irritation which sweeps over them at such a moment. The temptation to be unreasonable and snappish is one not easy to manage”

I loved how the other characters were portrayed. How you’re treated when you have money vs when you do not is depicted realistically, without any sugarcoating. I liked how it was shown that people can be fickle and shallow, but also that you can find kindness in others.

There’s so much to love about this book separately, but when you put it all together, you get an absolute masterpiece of a book. A Little Princess is worth reading a thousand times over- I’ve laughed, cried, loved some characters and hated more. So if you haven���t read it yet, go now!!

“Give her books, and she would devour them and end by knowing them by heart.” -Frances Hodgson Burnett, A Little Princess

[travelingtwentysomething]

🌚Dream Journal 🌝

I just woke up from the weirdest dream ever.

I lived in the White house, with my Aunt, and then my ex-best friend and her abusive boyfriend and her little son moved in with me (mirroring real life before we split), and me and my friend worked it out, and we got rid of her shitty abusive boyfriend this go round (instead of her dumping him, running back to her mom's, and leaving me to sweep up the trash, with no warning and no idea he was even abusive until then, when he had apparently relapsed and gotten back on meth unbeknownst to me. But that's another story for a Trauma Dump, not part of the dream).

When I talked to her about boundaries and respecting my space she actually listened to me instead of treating me as if I was attacking her for asking her not to destroy my things and space this time. She even invited me to her new house to hang out and make banana pudding.

Then somehow my cousin who actually lives with me now- her best friend came over as if she was my ex-best friend's friend, and they were sitting on the couch, and this is where the fact that we live in the White House comes in.

Trump was asleep on the other couch, with a TV playing above him playing Fox News, and my ex best friend and the other girl were talking shit about Trump and saying he should be assassinated and all kinds of crazy stuff, and I was like y'all need to stop y'all know the secret service out here. And So eventually the secret service came in they were acting like they needed to get up and leave, and I said y'all know I live here right? I said, "y'all can't do anything about me or my friends being here, and Trump has passed out and he didn't hear anything we had to say." But still they took my friends into the secret room off the living room to interrogate them- Trump was still asleep during all of this, so they woke him up to get him out of there as if he was about to be assassinated.

They tried to take me too but I told them "I'm good, I didn't say anything, y'all heard me telling them they needed to chill out, I'm going to go in the kitchen and wait till y'all are done." And after a little while in the kitchen watching fucking Fox news praise Trump for being a great leader, after I just watched him passed out like a fucking lump, and run away because two young women were shit talking him, I got a little mad, so I went and knocked on the secret door and asked if they were done with my friends yet.

They were in there scaring the shit out of them, and then they decided we all needed to go for a ride. So they put us on a helicopter and took us out saying we were going to some sort of training exercise to witness the greatness of trump, turns out they lied to us and they took our helicopter down into the ocean to simulate an emergency. I got out with two of the secret service guys first, cus I wasn't stupid enough to listen to them when they told me I needed to wait.

Turns out Trump was on a boat in the area doing some sort of campaigning thing, and they were going to use him as the rescue team, and they made my friends stay in the helicopter as it started to go under and they were trapped for too long because their stupid fucking exercise didn't go to plan. Eventually they pulled them out and they almost drowned, they had to resuscitate them. and Trump didn't even pick us up on his boat he just waved at us and was like "Look at our great military in action saving lives out here" even though they had almost just killed us, and our ride was disappearing before I very eyes because Trump's an idiot.

Somehow Denzel Washington was on the boat and he could see that this was all faked, and I was yelling out to them that Trump did this on purpose because my friends talk shit about him and he almost killed us, and Denzel Washington heard that, and was like "Don't worry, I got you, I'm going to tell everybody."

So when we came back to the White House every time they were doing any sort of event, me and my friends were there and we sabotaged it every way we could.

There was some sort of weird event on the front porch of the White House where Trump was supposedly going to be honored, but it turns out everybody there had heard my story, and came to protest him, and Trump got dressed up in some weird cat costume like from the movie/musical cats, and they scared the shit out of him and the secret service got him out of there but not before he almost pissed his pants and was dressed up and humiliated.

And I stood on the front porch laughing as they brought him in past me to the front door. And then me and my friends took all these protesters inside as our personal guests because I still lived in the White House and showed them around. And while Trump was recovering and getting out of his shitty cat costume all these protesters came in and witnessed him crying in his underwear.

And then I woke up.

None of this probably makes sense because I literally just sat here talking into my phone and letting it type it out for me. And I'm sure I'm losing some details cuz I woke up, but that was the gist of it.

[awesome-luciano-blog]

The Power of Service: Martin Luther King Jr.'s Timeless Wisdom on Mental Health and Leadership

In the annals of history, Martin Luther King Jr. stands as a beacon of hope, justice, and equality. His words reverberate through time, transcending mere rhetoric to become guiding principles for generations. Among the many profound statements he left us with, one stands out as particularly poignant: "Everybody can be great because anybody can serve."

In these words, Dr. King encapsulates a fundamental truth about greatness and service. He challenges the conventional notions of greatness, stripping away the trappings of wealth, power, and privilege. Instead, he invites us to redefine greatness through the lens of service—a concept accessible to all, regardless of social status or academic credentials.

"You don't have to have a college degree to serve," Dr. King reminds us. In a world that often equates success with formal education and professional achievements, this statement carries immense significance. It underscores the intrinsic value of every individual, irrespective of their educational background. It speaks to the dignity of labor, whether it be sweeping streets or leading nations.

Moreover, Dr. King's words highlight the universality of service. "You don't have to make your subject and verb agree to serve," he famously quipped, emphasizing that service transcends linguistic, cultural, and ideological boundaries. It is a language understood by all—a language of compassion, empathy, and solidarity.

At the heart of Dr. King's philosophy lies the profound notion that service is not merely an act but a state of being. "You only need a heart full of grace," he asserts, "a soul generated by love." In essence, true service emanates from a place of genuine empathy and altruism. It is rooted in compassion, driven by a desire to alleviate the suffering of others and uplift humanity as a whole.

What, then, is the connection between Dr. King's teachings on service and mental health? At its core, service offers a powerful antidote to the malaise of modern life—the sense of alienation, disillusionment, and existential despair that afflict so many. Research has consistently shown that acts of kindness and altruism not only benefit others but also foster a sense of purpose, belonging, and well-being in the individual who performs them. In serving others, we discover a deeper sense of meaning and fulfillment that transcends the ephemeral pursuit of material wealth or personal gain.

For leaders, Dr. King's message on service holds invaluable lessons. In an era marked by divisiveness, polarization, and self-interest, his words serve as a timely reminder of the true essence of leadership. Great leaders are not measured by the size of their egos or the extent of their power but by their capacity to inspire, empower, and uplift those around them. They lead not through coercion or fear but through service, empathy, and moral clarity.

Leaders who embody Dr. King's ethos of service understand that their primary responsibility is to serve the common good—to work tirelessly for the betterment of society and the advancement of justice and equality. They recognize that true greatness lies not in the accumulation of wealth or accolades but in the impact they have on the lives of others.

In conclusion, Martin Luther King Jr.'s timeless wisdom on service offers profound insights into the interconnectedness of mental health and leadership. By embracing the ethos of service, we can cultivate a more compassionate and resilient society—one in which every individual is valued, every voice is heard, and every heart is filled with grace and love. As we strive to build a better world, let us heed Dr. King's call to greatness through service and, in doing so, honor his enduring legacy of hope, courage, and justice.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Somehow, Through the Storm

Summary:

Living in the slums of the Warehouse District, Kaz and Inej are struggling to cling on to life through a seemingly unending winter. Wrapped up in a stranger's overcomplicated marriage contract that he is convinced is key to solving the merciless weather, Kaz remains busy and distracted for days on end, putting everything else at risk. So when a storm ravages the city and sweeps Inej into danger, the offer of safety, food, and a place to stay is an overwhelming one - no matter the cost. Terrified of mounting threats, Inej signs a contract - not knowing she would land herself trapped at the Menagerie. Kaz signs a contract that states if he can walk all the way through the city and back to the Warehouse District with Inej behind him, never looking back at her, they will both go free. But this is the Barrel, the darkest part of the city where the rules of physics can change with the stroke of a pen; the journey back will not be the same as journey there…

This is a Hadestown-inspired reimagining of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, casting Kaz and Inej as our main characters and heavily featuring our beloved Crows, set in an alternate version of the Grishaverse with a different magic system based entirely on contracts.

Tags: @lunarthecorvus @marielaure @multi-fandom-bi @igotthisaccountunderduress @thelibraryofalexandriastillburns @devoted-people-hater @spraypaintstainonawhitewall

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list let me know <3

Warnings for this chapter: ptsd references, implied past sa references, major character fake death, implied abuse references, implied child abuse references, fear of sa, fear of abuse, slavery refernces (similar to Kerch indenture contracts), implied possible forced marriage

Note: There was honestly so much more that I wanted to get into this chapter but it got a bit long so I'll just have to keep you all guessing a tiny touch longer...

AO3 link:

Chapter 10 - Inej

“People turn on you just like the wind, everybody is a fair weather friend. In the end, you’re better off alone. Any way the wind blows,”

- Any Way the Wind Blows, Hadestown

There were two statues of Sankta Anastasia in Ketterdam. Inej didn’t know why, exactly, but there were. It had surprised her to learn that there was a single statue of any Saint anywhere in the city, or quite honestly the entire country, and of all of them she didn’t think that Anastasia particularly represented any Kerch values at all. No-one under Ghezen would bleed themselves dry to heal the sickness of others; what prosperity did you get yourself from that? But so it was, for whatever reason, that there were two statues of Sankta Anastasia nearby - and though she didn’t believe statues were necessary for prayer, Inej was hardly going to complain about it. 

The bigger of the two statues was in the Ravkan Embassy, in the North of the city but not quite far East enough to encroach onto the Geldin District. The Anastasia there was in the centre of a small town square, wrought in grey stone, water falling from her neck and legs and outstretched arms into a fountain basin below, as though she were bleeding into them. People used to drink the water for good luck, apparently, but that changed into tossing pennies into the basin after Ketterdam’s most recent plague outbreak and has continued on for the past decade. Now, plague or none, the water was surely too churned up with metal to be safe to drink. Inej had heard from somewhere that the stadhall had it emptied and cleaned through every year or so, and then returned a small percentage of the coins to it so it still looked inviting for people to continue asking Anastasia for their blessings. She wondered what they did with the rest of the cash. She wondered if they’d been the ones to push the coins idea instead of drinking the water in the first place, to see if they couldn’t wring the Ravkans dry of just a few more pennies than they already had. After all, she’d never known prayer to rely on money anywhere at home. 

It was the second statue of Sankta Anastasia that she was standing underneath now. This one was smaller, positioned at the front of the Church she’d been so fitfully attending at the North of the Warehouse District, and had perhaps been the place she chose for a meeting point just to force herself to walk in and light incense for her parents beforehand. She’d knelt on the stone and clutched the match with shivering fingers, fighting to swallow her tears as someone glanced in her direction. 

This statue was not only smaller than the other one, but more mournful as well. She was cast in black rock, less smoothly sculpted and instead chiselled in definitive, sharp lines that rendered her in equal detail but gave her a pained, maybe even frightened expression. It was something in her eyes, maybe. Her limbs weren’t so much outstretched as they were laid around her, as though someone else had arranged them on her behalf - which, Inej supposed, they had, her being artwork and all - and instead of the popular depiction of her long, flowing red hair the artist had designed a long braid falling from the corner of a headscarf and tumbling over one of her shoulders. It almost seemed as though she had been caught in an unexpected wind, and was staring through it with fright burning in her eyes. Inej thought that this Anastasia looked younger than the other. 

When Inej had woken yesterday morning, curled tightly on top of the blanket in Kaz’s attic room, it had been so many hours after dawn that she could hardly believe it. When was the last time she had slept past sunrise? It took her a long few minutes to move; she listened to the silence of the room, to the movement and voices on the floors below her, and waited in stillness until she was convinced she was alone. When she did sit up, it was a cautious movement on stiff limbs that she only dared to stretch after a moment of holding herself in place, perched atop the mattress, her eyes gliding through the room. She had not forgotten the terror that had found her the previous night. 

But the attic was empty except for her, and there was no sign that anyone else had been here all night - the few things she had touched were exactly where she’d left them, the keys to the windows still nearby even though they’d dropped out of her sleeve. Inej stood and stretched her arms, then her spine, then her legs, then finally her neck. She rolled her shoulders and felt relief move through her. 

How long would the space remain empty, though? Kaz had said he would be back this morning, but he hadn’t specified when. Inej crept to the door and tested it again, just lightly - still unlocked. She breathed. 

The blanket had become slightly crumpled beneath Inej overnight, so she quickly knelt and straightened it before returning the little pillow to its place. The shirt she’d used to prop up her head in its place was, of course, creased and lined but it was cleaner than the one she was wearing so she found a position against the partition wall where none of the windows, or the mirror, could set their eyes on her and quickly swapped them. There were a few other small things to do to set the room to rights - she returned Kaz’s window keys to the little tin he kept tucked behind the basin, wiped down the countertop with the little towel and refolded it as neatly as she could manage, reset anything else she thought she might have accidentally knocked or moved. Then she paused in front of the mirror, which hung on the wall above the water basin, as she unpinned her hair. 

The glass was slightly smudgy, as though it had not been cleaned for some time, but even so Inej could see the exhaustion in the girl on the other side of the glass, the darkness hiding in her eyes, the places where she’d been ripped apart and attempted to stitch herself back together again. In some ways, it bothered how obvious they were. Seams were supposed to be hidden and neat; after two years of being someone who had to carry a needle and thread in her pocket, Inej still wasn’t sure that her reflection looked like a particularly accomplished seamstress. 

From the tightness of the braid crown that she’d slept in, there was still the tiniest remnant of damp clinging to her hair. For the most part it had dried in the shape of her plaits and now, as she shook it out over her shoulders, held a vague pattern of tight waves. She ran her comb through it briefly, regathering the frazzled strays and teasing out the small knot that had formed in a lock of her at the front of her face, slightly shorter than the bulk of her hair, that had come half free of the braid overnight and narrowly avoided creating a semi-permanent bond between Inej and the shirt beneath her head as it tangled itself around one of the buttons, and then split it in two over her shoulders and pulled it into two, relatively loose, low plaits. 

What time was it? Inej crept back across the room, thinking to check the clock on Kaz’s desk, but before she could reach it a floorboard creaked beyond the door. It was barely a millisecond that Inej had been frozen in place; before the door could even have been pushed open she’d crossed the room, slung her bag over her shoulder, leapt towards the window like there was a fire beneath her feet, and was gone. 

Anastasia and Inej stared at each other for a moment. That was another thing about this second statue: Anastasia was at almost the perfect eye level for most of the street’s passersby. She was built to a human scale, her back a little taller than Inej’s, her pedestal barely large enough to call it one. Her dress fell simply and plainly, and she stood sentinel outside the Church with her sad, silent eyes as though she were begging you to step inside. She wanted to help, she seemed to be saying, and she knew that she could if you would let her. Inej wondered if she’d known the whole time that helping was killing her, or if it was only deeper into the path she’d chosen that the realisation came. Would she have changed her mind? Had she wanted to, but found herself too deep in to turn around? 

It was a little unnerving, after she’d done it for a moment too many, to keep staring into the Saint’s eyes. Inej almost wanted to take her hand. 

She looked away. 

When she left the Slat, yesterday, Inej had made it across several rooftops with her heart burning in her throat before she realised that she’d forgotten her comb. She stood above a drainpipe, watching the streets of the Warehouse District below her, cheeks stinging in the crisp morning air and the skin of her hands already cold and bitten by the wind. The comb was lying on Kaz’s counter, discarded by the mirror. She could have gone back for it. Logically, she knew that to be true. The room was probably still empty, and even if it weren’t most of the times that Inej visited Kaz she would simply slide in through the window to find him at his desk. She could go back and find the comb. She knew that. 

But she’d still slipped away into the horizon, only dropping to the cobbles once she was several streets away, the Slat nothing more than a simple dot vanishing in her wake.

There was a small section of canal along the South edge of the Warehouse District, on the opposite border to where it met the Barrel but instead closer to where the city began to gradually give way into the countryside, where small market stalls often gathered. They were often packed up and sent running by stadwatch patrols, permits were so difficult to come by that they suspected anyone selling anything was doing it illegally and most of the time they were correct, but Inej had never actually seen any illegal items up for sale. She liked to walk through even though she couldn’t afford anything, and had more than once hovered by a food stand until the owner told her to clear out. Sometimes you might get lucky enough for them to give you something small for free, an exchange for moving on and not bothering their customers any longer. 

Yesterday, though, Inej had walked into the market with over fifty kruge sewn into her jacket and twenty clutched in her fist, which in turn was buried deep inside her pocket. Money she had earned. She probably should’ve saved the cash, tried to gather up enough to find herself a hostel or even just a room for rent where someone might be willing to take her on, but she was so hungry. She bought a pastry, and then another, and then she even indulged herself enough to buy a coffee in a paper cup. Perched on the curb, her feet planted on the road in front of her, Inej inhaled the steam rising from her drink like its warmth was a drug, buzzing in the fingers clutched around the cup and shivering inside her with every breath. It was too hot to drink yet but she sipped it anyway, almost welcoming the brief burning sensation that it brought over her lips and against her tongue.

A footstep sounded behind her and she forced herself to calm - no-one was following her, no-one was looking for, no-one knew or cared who she was and even if they did it wouldn’t make a difference. It was a busy market street, and a footstep behind her meant nothing at all. 

“Inej,”

Inej almost jumped out of her skin. Coffee sloshed over the lip of her cup and scalded her skin as she leapt up to her feet and she dropped the drink in shock, but still she was quick enough to slip her other hand into her brass knuckles as she spun and - 

Kaz caught her fist in the air, nothing but the tiny barrier of metal and leather in between them. Inej tried to calm her breathing as he drew away, dark eyes flicking over her and the dropped coffee. The dark brown liquid had spilled across the cobbles like the paper cup was bleeding.

“I thought we weren’t meeting until tomorrow,” Inej managed, as though in hopes of retaining some dignity, or as though to blame his lack of timekeeping instead of her own overactive heart rate for her response to the surprise. 

Kaz adjusted himself against his cane, then slipped a hand into the pocket of his perfectly tailored jacket. A moment seemed to hang in the air and Inej swallowed something that might have been anger or embarrassment at the realisation that she’d tensed as she watched him, but then there was a small wooden comb hovering in the space between them, loose in Kaz’s outstretched hand. 

“You forgot this,”

Inej hated that she hesitated, but she did. She imagined his grip on the comb tightening as she reached for it, or pulling it out of reach just to see if she would clamour for it. But the comb slipped silently from Kaz’s gloved hand into her own, still slightly painful, one, and a second later it was safely tucked into her bag. 

“Did you burn yourself?”

“It’s fine,” she breathed, picking up the now empty cup and discarding it in the waste bin nearby, then turning to pace back towards Kaz. It was only after another moment of silence had passed between them that she gathered the courage to say: “What business, Kaz?”

“We may as well talk now, unless you were going to gather any more information today; no point waiting until tomorrow when we’re already here. And besides,” he glanced at the pool of coffee running over the road, “It would appear that I owe you a drink,”

Someone stepped out from the Church, behind Anastasia’s statue, and Inej watched them attempt in vain to shake the city’s smog out of their shirt cuffs before they began to walk away. She had told Nina that she would wait all morning, but after only near to fifteen minutes standing by the statue she was starting to feel concerned that the people would think she was suspicious. Luckily, Nina did not take much longer to appear - Inej had been starting to wonder if she would duck into a storefront or even the Chapel, and whether it might look more normal for her to wait indoors. But Nina arrived at somewhere near to twenty past nine bells, her eyes scanning the small courtyard until Inej stepped out from behind Anastasia and into view. 

She’d written the letter to Nina as soon as Kaz left her, after the market. Or rather, as soon as she'd made it across the city to the nearest library and was perched at a little table with free paper and free ink sitting in front of her. Sometimes she could hardly believe the magic of libraries. She could also hardly believe that the Kerch hadn’t disestablished them yet. 

She’d spent some time sitting and reviewing what she’d written, to make sure that the message was clear enough but that the letter made sense alone as well. Would Nina understand what she was saying? Inej had little confidence in her own skill, but Nina was smart enough, she had no doubt, to know what Inej was asking even if the message didn't make perfect sense. To her, of course, it was clear, but she struggled to tell if it would be to anyone else. She read through it for what felt like the thousand and first time:

I’m afraid that each time I come to write to you anything interesting I might have been planning to tell you is simply forgotten - I must start making myself notes throughout the week and gathering them together when I sit to write. - “I’m not writing on business, but you’ll hear from me about that soon,”

I think it’s just that it feels so stilted to write and for it to take so long to receive each other’s replies; I could write you a letter every day and still have plenty more to tell you when you visit. You will visit soon, won’t you? I know you’re busy, but I do miss you. - “We need to speak in person, if you can.”

I’m going to Sankta Anastasia’s statue tomorrow - the one outside the Church in the village, that is, not the big one in town - to start preparations for her festival. - “Meet me at the smaller statue of Sankta Anastasia, outside the Church in the Warehouse District”

Anyway, I’ll be there all morning from nine bells tomorrow, sorting what tables and ribbons and all we already have and seeing if we need to order anything in, then in the afternoon I’m meeting up with Gregor. - “I’ll wait for you, come any time in the morning from nine bells, but I’ll have to leave come afternoon,”

He doesn’t know I’m going to Sankta Anastasia’s, I should add. - “Kaz doesn't know I’m writing this. He doesn’t know we’re meeting,”

Sankta Marya - that didn’t mean anything specific, really, but Inej wanted to know more about the Van Ecks and for as much as Kaz talked about them she didn’t feel that he had told her very much. Nina would know more. 

You know he won’t be happy if I go into town on my own so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me keeping myself busy with this instead. - “I’d come to you, but Kaz is strange about the boundary line; if I’m lying to him either way then this is better,”

I do worry about you in that city. They say such strange things about it that I lose track of which ones might be true and which are entirely made up. - “I’ve been here for months and still no-one will tell me anything,”

Eurydice - that was the name she’d registered at Hendrija’s with, the one she’d used at most places in Ketterdam and the first name Kaz had managed to track her down under before he found the real one. Inej still wasn’t sure how he’d managed that. 

Nina was wearing a soft red blouse and black trousers beneath her unbuttoned coat and her hair was mostly piled up at the back of her head, except for a few front pieces that were loose to frame her face and swaying slightly in the persistent breeze. She waved lightly at Inej as she approached, smiling in a way that made the green swirl of her eyes shimmer slightly. 

Inej didn’t know exactly how they’d ended up sitting in a coffee shop - she was trying to save her money, but all the same she’d followed Nina through the door and paid for what was almost definitely an overpriced cup of coffee. It tasted good though, and the warmth of it seemed to burrow deep inside her, settling close and cosy.

When she’d followed Kaz nervously to another food stand yesterday, he’d bought two coffees and then asked her if she wanted anything else. For a moment she’d only been able to stand there in silence, as though her brain was slightly out of time with the world. She stared at the menu without reading it, then shook her head. He’d said he owed her a drink and she would let him settle it. She didn’t want them to owe each other anything else. Somewhere in between the Ravkan woods two years ago and running from a house in a Ketterdam shanty town as fast as her legs could carry her, Inej had finally managed to realise that owing anybody anything was dangerous. People could turn on you in an instant; trust, no matter how welcomingly it might be shaped, was too sharp an edged thing to hold onto it too tight. 

“Are you staying at the Slat tonight?” he’d asked her, before they parted ways. 

Inej hesitated, but before she had a chance to ask anything he’d added: 

“I’m out again; it’s no imposition,”

“I could have left my comb behind then,” she’d teased lightly, not really sure where she’d got the gall. 

Kaz shrugged. 

“Well if I hadn’t come to see you, you wouldn’t have known to come back. And I wouldn’t have seen you followed my suggestion to get yourself a weapon, either,”

Inej smiled. 

“Brass knuckles weren’t exactly what I had in mind,” he admitted, “But I should think they’re a good place for you to start. There was power behind that punch you threw at me, but no precision - no finesse. You need to learn to fight,” 

“Who am I fighting?”

“I’m afraid you’ll find a lot of enemies in our line of work,” Kaz replied, “You’d best prepare yourself to face them,”

They had been his parting words to her, and she was left standing alone with an empty paper cup in her hands, watching his back disappear around the corner. Our line of work. Was that really what she wanted? 

“So,” Nina placed her mug onto the little table in between them, then settled deep into her chair, “What did you want to talk about? I mean - Kaz, Marya, sure, but what exactly?”

Inej sipped her coffee again, trying to sort through her thoughts and arrange them into the right order. She’d practised what she wanted to stay inside her head whilst she was waiting for Nina, and yet somehow it had flown right out again now that they were actually sitting here. She wanted to say tell me if I can trust him and what isn’t he telling me? and I stole that contract page everyone seems so excited about but no-one will even tell me what it is, but she wasn’t sure that was the right way to go about things. 

“What…?” she hesitated, “I haven’t been working with Kaz for very long. And I don’t… he hasn’t really told me what I’m doing. If I’m going to keep spying on someone, I at least want to know who they are. Why I’m doing it,” 

Nina nodded.

“Who is Wylan Hendriks?”

“That,” Nina half sighed through her smile, “is a more complicated question than it should be,”

Inej had to admit, she was surprised to discover that to be an understatement. 

“Alright then,” Nina’s mug clinked against its saucer, “The Van Ecks. What do you know about them?”

Inej searched her head for the vague information she’d managed to garner during her time in Ketterdam, but it was nigh on impossible to know what was truth and what was fact. 

“They own half the city,” she said, after a beat, “and practically all of the Geldin District. Jan Van Eck, his wife-”

“Marya,”

“Marya. So Jan and Marya; they’re the richest people in Kerch. Jan… ran the Merchant Council? Or…?”

“Disestablished it,” Nina nodded, “In everything but the title, anyway. The country is officially still under the Council, but they’ve been nothing but his puppets for years now. There hasn’t been a Council vote that didn’t swing his way in over half a decade,”

Inej sipped her coffee. 

“What else do you know?” asked Nina.

She had to think on that one for a moment, but eventually she ventured: 

“They’re building the wall?”

“He is,” said Nina. She took another sip of her drink before she went on: “Okay, let’s start at the beginning. 

“Marya Hendriks married Jan Van Eck when she was twenty, and he was twenty three. We don’t know much about where she was before that, other than that she comes from a well-off family, but we know that Jan was already doing well for himself working for his father’s business. When his father died, Jan took his seat on the Merchant Council. He massively increased the business in a disproportionate amount of time, more than doubling his profits, and immediately started expanding his property in the city. He also fought anti-contract laws under the guise of fighting for Grisha rights, only to turn around and bind Grisha to him with their own words. His actions towards Grisha caused mass unrest across Ketterdam alone, and it only really cleared up because the Queen’s Lady Plague broke out. People needed a place to go, and he offered them one - for a price that, without the plague, they wouldn’t have been willing to pay. 

Meanwhile, Marya has given birth to a son. By the time the plague outbreaks start the kid’s about eight; being kept indoors, out of sight… it’s not entirely unusual, right? He’s young, they’re trying to keep him away from contagion. Most likely he was taken out of the city for a while, they have plenty of countryside property where infection rates were practically non-existent. But even after the epidemic dies down, people barely ever see him,”

Inej frowned. 

“It’s sudden,” Nina continued, “Before the plague outbreak, he goes everywhere with his father on all these business deals and things, all sorts. Afterwards? Nothing. Four years of this go by, and then there’s some kind of accident - I’ve never heard what, exactly, but the kid was twelve and something happened. He died.”

Inej almost gasped at the ache that split inside her heart. 

“There are rumours that his mother went mad from it,” said Nina, though she didn’t look particularly convinced by the stories, “But if you ask me it’s Jan who lost his mind. All of it, the entire city - it only got worse after that. Triple the number of contracts signed. The Barrel had been keeping their own game running with contracts all that time but now Jan started dealing with them directly, running the share programmes with Grisha that split us between working for both areas. And then, eventually: the wall. 

“He started building the wall, around the entirety of the Geldin District. Nothing from the rest of the city will touch him or his family again,”

Inej stared at her. 

“But of course,” she murmured, “Marya’s the unreasonable one,”

“Oh, naturally,” Nina eyed her over the rim of her mug, “Hysterical,”

Inej’s lips quirked. 

“See the problem we’re facing, here, and the reason that Kaz has hired you on, is that all of this began six years ago. Well, really it started before the plague so more like eleven years ago, when the anti-contract laws were disestablished. But the son, Wylan - he died six years ago. Supposedly,”

“I see,” Inej took a slow breath, “So say that an eighteen year old boy walked into the Warehouse District, using Wylan’s name and Marya’s maiden name…?”

“Suspicions might be raised?” asked Nina, “Yeah, you could say that,”

Inej nodded, slowly, then frowned again. 

“You knew, though,” she said, “When we first met, Kaz said you were right, he’s here,”

Nina took a breath. 

“Yes,” she said, “That’s where it gets complicated again,”

Nina went to order another coffee before continuing the story, but Inej held off this time. They were seated by a window and she turned to watch the passersby on the street outside, thinking about the day she and Nina had first met. Other than Kaz making a brief introduction between them, there had been no chance to talk before he’d turned to Nina and announced: 

“You were right. He’s here,”

“He’s alive?”

Kaz pulled a piece of paper from his pocket - the final page of a contract that Inej had made a copy of for him - and handed it over, watching Nina’s eyes widen slightly as she scanned the page. 

“Look familiar?”

“This is - how did you-?”

“That would be Inej’s work,” he glanced at her, “If we plan on pressing forward with this, you two probably want to communicate,”

“So you’ll do it?” Nina breathed, everything about her seeming to rise slightly higher as she stared at him, “You’ll-”

“I’m not running a charity, Zenik, I’m not out here risking myself over someone else’s contracts out of the goodness of my heart. And this won’t be a cheap job,”

Nina released a slightly frustrated sigh, but Kaz hadn’t appeared to care.

“How much?” she asked, bitterly. 

Kaz looked back to Inej. 

“How long did you say the contract was?”

She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged as she said: 

“Long. Fifty pages? More?”

“Fifty?” Nina exclaimed, “That can’t be - for this?”

She waved the paper back and forth. 

“At least,” Inej nodded, “I’ve never seen one like it. Why? Who is it?”

No-one had given her any answers, then, but she was going to make sure she got some now. 

Nina sat back down and set her new coffee and a small pastry on the table, asking again if Inej was sure she didn’t want anything else. Inej declined, rubbing her fingers against the single remaining note in her pocket. She’d rather avoid spending any more this morning, if she could. 

“So what about the contract, then?” she asked, trying not to watch enviously as Nina took a bite of her pastry, “Something to make him disappear?”

Nina shook her head. 

“Based on what I managed to find out about him,” she said, “Which, I’ll tell you, isn’t much, I guarantee you there’s a contract with his signature on it somewhere. But no, the contract you found in his bag wasn’t his,” she paused for a moment and Inej thought it might have been for dramatic effect before she turned to her coat, slung over the back of her chair, and began to root through the pockets until she produced a piece of paper - the copy Inej had made of the final page of the contract, “Here. I know you don’t read Kerch, but see the names here?”

She pointed to the dotted lines where two signatures had been marked. Inej nodded. 

“Marya Hendriks,” said Nina, pointing to the first, then moving onto the second: “Jan Van Eck,”

Inej frowned. 

“This is a Grisha-written contract. And it’s also a marriage certificate,”

It was a good job that Inej hadn’t ordered another coffee, because if there had been anything in her mouth at that moment she would surely have spat it out. 

“What?”

Nina glanced over her shoulder, gently motioning for Inej to lower her voice. 

“I had a vague idea that we’d find… something like that,” she said, “But fifty pages? That’s insane for any contract. I got suspicious that Wylan was alive a few months ago, and I told Kaz something weird was going on - or weirder, anyway. He looks into people’s contracts for them, finds ways to get them nullified - and I pass his information on to anyone who might want that, if they can get to him. But if he can convince Wylan to help us? If he can unravel what the hell might possibly be written in that marriage contract? Well, Kaz will swear blind that he’s only in it for the money, but we might actually stand a chance to- to change things,”

Inej barely even knew what to say to that. She did her best to nod, but her mind was swimming away with Marya Hendriks, and a thousand questions that she knew Nina would have no answers to. She settled on instead asking: 

“Can I trust him? Kaz, I mean,”

Nina shrugged. 

“About as much as anyone round here,”

So, no then, Inej thought unhappily. 

“I, erm… I don’t have anywhere to stay right now, but I spent the last two nights at the Slat. Kaz said he was working anyway so I could take his room,”

Nina nodded, but she was clearly trying to work out where Inej was going with this. 

“He said that I could stay. But I don’t- I mean I can’t…” Inej swallowed, “I don’t want to owe him anything,”

She fidgeted with her shirt cuff, not quite meeting Nina’s eye. Nina just shrugged. 

“Factor it into your deal,”

Inej glanced up. 

“What?”

“Kaz Brekker is a ruthless, amoral bastard with a terrible haircut,” said Nina, leaning back in her chair and lifting her mug of coffee to her lips, “But he’ll keep to any deal you strike with him. Whatever he’s paying you for your sleuthing, tell him you’ll use part of that to pay him to stay. You don’t owe each other anything,”

Inej furrowed her brow. Could it really be that simple? She wasn’t sure she was actually making enough money to pay him for the bed - and besides, she’d spent the past two nights sleeping in his own room; that could hardly work for him long term. But maybe if she suggested this, they’d be able to find some sort of deal that would work for both of them. 

And if it didn’t? Well, Inej had a steadily growing list of places she had run from. What was one more? 

[herunswithscissors]

The weirdest thing about being stressed out is that you lose bandwidth to handle things sometimes.

Sometimes it lasts for a count to 10 to act normal. I just stopped caring and stopped acting normal. But deep inside trauma makes us all a bit weirder than your average weird. And stress removes our buffers. Stress overcomes our executive centers and they collapse under its weight like a black hole. I can't do shit if I don't feel like it. Or have a deadline over my head, which even then is negotiable. I just can't do it. I can't text you. I can't call you. Because I keep wanting to be in a better situation and headspace usually.

But more and more it's just because I can't bear the amount of emotional energy this will require of me. And I know I need to talk to Mali and Arash more. They keep me grounded and rounded. But look at me! I can't even stand to watch my favorite anime and I've got the time.

You think I can make myself write that letter of rec I desperately want to do a good job on to give this kid a chance in life to have a little comfort while doing something they like.?

Laundry is a lost cause. Grading? Fuck that noise. I need a nap.

But hey, I'm happier and I'm better at everything when I'm being myself while doing my best to be my better self.

So I'm sorry I didn't call. Didn't text. Didn't email Didn't complete another fucking form.

But I can get along in person as long as you don't mind weird. I just can't pick up the phone. But at least we can talk deep weird thoughts and share our trauma over coffee and joking. And you might have to suggest the coffee time.

But hey, everybody gets me now. Like me or not. You know me. Mostly because I over share when stressed. But also I let you see a little of the stress induced weirdness that I used to more easily hide (the pretender ain't got nothing on me). And because I just stopped caring and it feels so good to be my weird ass self.

In my weird ass world with my weird ass friends and have a weird ass life together. It's going to suck. So let's just try to make it fun and love each other.

Yes the jackass too. Just keep the jackasses in line.

Give everyone else grace to do whatever.

And what do you care if they feel like stealing from people with infinite money. Like it's a banana. What's it cost?

What's an air filter going cost to the billionaires vs an F-22? And what's it going to cost the poor schmuck you happened to catch.

Even if it's your local boss's personal money, what's a pie or air filter worth to the bullshit small business owner paying you minimum wage to manage their entire business for them. Or minimum wage for sweeping up. You deserve to eat too.

Speaking of shoplifting what's a PlayStation worth to them either? Either way, if you hand them over to the police you are guaranteed a year a of their life trapped in the justice system? And a lifetime fucked thereafter?

And the police in cities set up shop in front of Walmart and pat good little boys and girls on the head for handing over shoplifters stealing groceries in self check out lines designed to encourage shoplifting. I can steal me groceries like a pirate from the Waltons pretty freely.

Poor city folks without transportation cannot.

And they have to be pretty desperately poor. Because people will fucking Uber to get away from some Walmarts. And the buses don't run to the suburbs very often. And they get their basic necessities through self check out.

Rentacops are everywhere. Idealistic kids are acting as deputy police. Freely using force or getting otherwise involved in stopping the robbery. It's not your money. Give it to them. If it is your money, sorry, but they probably need it a lot more. And it's not worth your life or loved ones. Just give them the register. Shop boy? Just keep stocking those shelves like a good robot. Try to be more efficient so they will give you more work.

Maybe you will even get an extra hundred dollars a week for all that hard work.

Was it worth it?

Most of you, it doesn't help you at all. You are media darlings and folk heroes, but now you've not only fucked this schmuck's life, you've helped a billionaire keep a banana, and got fired for not following company policy.

So stop trying to be a hero for Capitalism and racist, classist, voting demographic targeting, fascist policing?

Just stock those shelves as slow as you can and insert them steal.

Speaking of slow as you can, slow it down and say you need more help.

Many hands make light work.

And lazy workers are rewarded with more slackers. Good workers are rewarded with pizza.

Africans get this. Pay is low. So worth slow. You can get more jobs for your friends. And not have to work so hard. Hard work doesn't help and everyone needs a paycheck.

I can't believe how my church managed to paint that as regressive and backward. Lazy Africans. No wonder you're in poverty.

You must insist that can only work so fast.

You're not a machine and this isn't Amazon. I'm not acting like a machine doing it in the most efficient way possible. Especially if my reward is another box or being sent to cleaning up the back. Or worse dealing with a line of disgruntled customers. (Some places have nastier customer behavior than others.) Sure, some have really nice customer to service worker relations. But it's all just keeping it friendly and fun. They will turn on each other in a second. And the more idealistic workers always side with management.

Do you really want to go back to running register? standing?! Like they couldn't do their job in a comfy office chair. Or at least a fucking stool. "No stool with customers in the shop." They have to spend 8 hours plus just standing at attention by the registers.

Stock the shelves slow and let the cashier's be freed to at least walk around and talk with friends while they work as inefficiently as possible now. There's self checkout helping people get their groceries now. Go stock the shelves slowly with your friends.

They skimp on backroom crews and maintenance all the time and forever customer service to get dirty and hurting because the Waltons are too miserly to hire a real backroom crew. They even use temps. Making them start as a temp in the hard dirty back work ."To do if they can work". With the promise of a customer facing job and the promise of a full time job so they work harder.

But that is still too much an expense. It was a banana too much and they regularly make customer facing staff so backroom work as punishment, supplementing the hard labor. .Or just because management wants them to go supplement the back room. Here's an extra few coins per hour for your troubles. Now go back to standing still running register because chairs are for office staff only. Stand service dog stand.

Now fetch me those shoplifters!

And the police are outside these city Walmarts in the poorest part of the city, shooting fish in a barrel making their quota on poor people stealing basic living needs from billionaires.

Fucking cop lovers. They are so adorably naive. It should be amusing.

Fuck that noise clerk. Fuck that noise customer.

Let my people go free. Free to steal and scam their basic necessities and maybe some fun on the side. Help them if you can.

Lie to the cops for them.

We should all get free to Ask perfect strangers for an alibi whenever we need one.