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hollowmend · 2 years ago

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Hollowmend Project Masterlist

Hey all! I’ve been getting a lot of questions lately (especially about Red-Handed Robin Redux), so I thought I’d make a masterlist/FAQ of sorts.

Here’s an overview of all the projects I have going on/planned for the future! All of these projects are commercial.

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Fetch Quest Series

Fetch Quest Remastered - (Comedy, Fantasy, Otome)

[Coming Soon]

Would-be adventurer Flora accepts a job to retrieve a stolen item for a shady bartender. In order to retrieve the item, she'll have to infiltrate a group of notorious bandits by posing as a new recruit. Fortunately, she has the help of two other adventurers. UNfortunately, her companions seem completely useless without her!

According to the strangely vocal narrator, this would have gone more smoothly if everyone had remembered to make their characters beforehand...

A remastered version of my 2019 NaNoRenO game, Fetch Quest!

FAQ

What’s different from the free version?

-With all new scenes and a brand new “true” ending, the script has gone from 13k words up to 20k words

5 brand new CGs

A new original soundtrack

Shiny new UI

There’s an extras menu now, including a CG gallery, music room, and endings list

Can you date Dan?

Nope! Not this time.

However, the “true” ending miiiight just be about him…

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Fetch Re;Quest - (Comedy, Slice-of-Life, Stat Raiser, Otome)

[Current Project]

After a remodel of their workplace leaves Flora, Dan, Connor, and Todd with a week’s worth of free-time, the group decides to play some games together…

The perfect opportunity to grind some stats!

Can Flora increase her Acumen, Charm, Gud, or Moxie enough to gain the courage to ask out her crush by the end of a self-imposed one week deadline? Or will she chicken out and be forced to pine after fictional 2D men instead?

Fetch Re;Quest takes place directly after the events of the Fetch Quest remaster’s new “true” ending. Here’s some of what you can expect from the game-

A (very) light stat raiser!

One love interest (It’s Dan.)

No DnD this time, but each stat is tied to a particular video/board game the group plays together. Shenanigans ensue.

Go on a cute date at the end

get all the endings for a special beach day episode

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The Maiden and the Magpie Series

Red-Handed Robin Redux (Dark Fantasy, Otome)

When career thief Robin comes across a boarding pass for the Whirlwind Express, she thinks she's found a literal ticket to freedom. With a case full of stolen jewelry and her loyal bodyguard at her side, she's ready to flee the country in style...

That is, until she runs into her childhood friend turned detective.

Can Robin keep her cool as she navigates a series of magic and mind games? Or will her cover be blown along with her escape plan?

That’s right! Red-Handed Robin is also getting the remaster treatment!

FAQ

What’s different from the free version?

There will be new content and a new canon “Golden End”

New CGs throughout the game

An original soundtrack

A new UI

Extras! In addition to the usual CG gallery/music room/endings list, there will also likely be fandisk-esque extra scenes showing more of the gang’s life before they boarded the whirlwind.

After outlining the entirety of the 3 game series, some details might differ in the Redux version than the free version. The Redux version will be considered the canon going forward!

Will there be a Fletcher route?

Nope! For many reasons, not the least of which is that he is gay.

With the new Golden Ending being canon, will Jay and Wren still get their own endings?

Yep! Those endings are staying in, they just won’t be the canon version of events when you see the trio again in the 3rd game of the series.

Will Robin/Jay/Wren end up in a poly relationship?

I’d like to keep some secrets to myself until they’re revealed in game… but if you follow me anywhere and have been paying attention, I think the answer to this is pretty clear.

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The Scarecrow Knight (Dark Fantasy, Mystery)

A few hundred years before the events of Red-Handed Robin, a strange traveler, his adopted daughter, and a tag-along who considers himself the traveler’s apprentice unravel mysteries surrounding the ancient curse of witchcraft.

The Scarecrow Knight takes place over ten years, with each of the three acts focusing on a different mystery along the way.

Though events in both games are related, The Scarecrow Knight and Red-Handed Robin can be read in any order.

FAQ

Are Robin/Jay/Wren going to be in The Scarecrow Knight?

Nope! The Scarecrow Knight features Mac, Corbin, and Lark as its protagonists. You won’t see the RHR gang again until the 3rd game in the series.

Is The Scarecrow Knight an otome/dating sim/will it have romance?

Nope. While this game is still focused on relationships, the cast’s bonds are familial in nature.

Will The Scarecrow Knight have a ‘game’ in each act, like Red-Handed Robin?

Yep! In order to solve the mystery presented in each act, you’ll have to navigate that act’s ‘game’.

What are Corbin’s pronouns?

Corbin uses she/her pronouns for the first two acts of The Scarecrow Knight. In act 3, however, he switches to he/him pronouns as part of a disguise... One that he suspiciously doesn’t want to come out of.

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3rd Unnamed RHR Game (Dark Fantasy, Amare)

Directly after the events of RHR, Robin, Jay, and Wren find themselves in a foreign country, no safer than they were aboard the whirlwind.

Meanwhile, Corbin finds himself in a very strange predicament… Waking up in the apartment of Oliver Tangram and Merle Barrows, two young men entangled in Gales’ occult scene.

This game will wrap up the stories started in both RHR and SK.

FAQ

Is 3rd Unnamed Game an otome/dating sim/will it have romance?

The answer is yes! Kind of! Both sides feature romance, and those relationship dynamics are integral to the plot.

On Robin/Jay/Wren’s side, the game will explore the trio’s dynamic more in depth. Corbin also has his own love interest (Oliver) on his side.

Who’s the protagonist?

The story is told from multiple perspectives, with Robin and Corbin being the most important characters.

Will 3rd Unnamed Game have a ‘game’ in each act like Red-Handed Robin?

Hopefully! That’s the plan anyway.

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Other Upcoming Projects

Believe it or not, I’ve got even more stuff planned!

If you’ve been following me for otome, I’m sorry to say that The Maiden and the Magpie series will probably be my last one for the foreseeable future. As a queer man, writing queer stories is what gets me motivated.

That being said, my next upcoming project is a BL!

Counter-Side (BL, Drama, Sci-fi, Kinetic)

[Current Project]

A mining facility on the dusty, barren planet of Ikarus is the last place most people would expect to find their true love… But that won’t stop peppy mecha pilot Rosco from trying!

In fact, he’s positive he’s figured it out this time. Sure, his new partner seems bored and dismissive, but this has been Rosco’s longest relationship yet! That has to mean something, right?

Meanwhile, HR manager Rae has just transferred to the facility and is determined to keep any new acquaintances at an arm’s length. Convinced that he is cold, boring, and judgemental, Rae is certain that there is only one person who can accept him for who he really is… and he already screwed that up.

Just as both men feel like they’re at their lowest points, their evenings are brightened by a newfound friendship forged at a cozy bar…

Counter-Side is the result of a writing experiment gone wild– I wrote one character’s viewpoint, and my friend/co-writer @brii-nanas wrote the other! The result is a story seen from both Rosco and Rae’s perspective.

Choose to play through the entirety of one character’s side before starting the other, or pick from either character’s perspective chapter by chapter. Both options offer an interesting way of experiencing the story.

The script is almost completely done (over 100k words!), and we will be working on putting out a demo containing the first 1/3rd of the game soon.

If Rosco looks familiar, it’s probably because I did his sprite for @brii-nanas amare jam game, Under the Skies of Ikarus! This game is set in the same world/facility.

Unlike Under the Skies of Ikarus, which is very wholesome, Counter-Side’s tone is... different, to say the least xD. Rae and Rosco’s relationship is extremely sweet, but they both go through some rough stuff before they get to that point. Which leads me to the...

Content Warning

This game is for readers who are 18+! It contains some heavy subject matter such as:

Abusive relationships (both physical and mental)

Dubious consent

Gaslighting

Anxiety

Sex (Nothing written/shown is super explicit)

Alcohol use

#hollowmend #visual novel #interactive fiction #fetch quest #fetch re;quest #red-handed robin #the scarecrow knight #counter-side #faq

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darlingpoppet · 8 months ago

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any updates on wtdf? i hope u have a wonderful day 💕

Hi anon! Thanks so much for checking in! And thanks for doing it on tumblr, this is a good opportunity to push me out of lurk mode and refill my queue while offering some much needed updates!

Anyways, the short answer is: WTDF chapter 8 is coming along, albeit more slowly than I intended, and it might still be another month or two before it’s finally done.

The longer explanation is this: Chapter 8 is another doozy like chapter 4 was… if you read the notes for chapter 4, or read my other WTDF-related posts here on tumblr, then perhaps you’re familiar with the fact that completing that chapter was also a protracted process that juggled a different fic project with a fixed deadline, a bout of writer’s block, and inspiration wandering to some different one-shots before ultimately getting me back on-track. I’m a bit sorry to say that I seem to be unintentionally experiencing an exact repeat of last year 🥲💦

In April, when I was still on-track to finish the chapter within my self-imposed deadline, a friend asked me to pinch-hit for their zine, and I was happy to put all my own projects on the back burner for a couple of weeks while I helped out a friend in-need. Once that project was finished at the end of April I immediately got back to work on WTDF, but less than two weeks in (right around the time Hades II Early Access dropped, so I was already a little bit distracted lol) I got saddled with a leadership position preparing for an event at my kid’s kindergarten, which took up 100% of my free time as well as the complete use of my hands (because A LOT of crafting was also involved lol.) So for the rest of May, zero writing got done (though I listened to a lot of podcasts and youtube video essays during that time, I’m thinking of making a rec list sometime of the stuff I enjoyed just for fun!)

And now here we are toward the end of June and the chapter still isn’t done. Even now I keep huffing the copium by telling myself I can finish it by the end of the month, but I’m gonna be honest: all of the interruptions & delays have left me struggling to get back in the right headspace for this story & at this point I admit that I seem to have fallen into another writer’s block 🥲 The last couple of weeks have been me making incremental progress while also trying to refill my cups.

I really hoped I could finish it this month because I’m already planning on doing camp nanowrimo in July to FINALLY finish the draft for the dreamers AU that has also been in the works for over a year now. And tbh that’s the story that I’m now daydreaming about as I start to get myself back into the writing zone. So I think I just gotta Trust The Process on this one and strike the iron where it’s hot for now, because at least I can point to my experience last year and give credit to my fics Closest & Flourishing for giving me the needed momentum to finally get WTDF Ch 4 over the finish line (followed by a streak of productivity that lasted me pretty much up until this point!)

So while I’m sorry that this means WTDF Ch 8 is gonna continue to be delayed a bit longer, I also think it’ll be worth it in the end when I have both these projects finished and I’m feeling good about the direction the inspiration is taking them. FWIW a lot of the ideas & themes I’m thinking about for the dreamers AU—such as prolonged periods of transition, coming of age, and the liminal qualities of queerness & gender identity—they are helping ideas coalesce in my approach to WTDF Ch 8, which, as I may have mentioned before, is a treatment of the Skyros arc. It’s actually fitting that I’m working on these projects both at the same time because I think they’re actively making one another better, which means I’m getting even more excited to complete & share them! The dreamers AU seems likely to be split into two parts at this point, so it makes sense to me to sandwich the WTDF update in between those. I can never really make concrete promises about my publishing schedule anymore, but for now at least, that’s the plan.

Anyways sorry for the longwinded & possibly boring explanation/list of excuses. But I appreciate your ask, it means a lot to know that people care 🥹🙏 Thank you everyone for their patience so far!!! I know I’m slow haha but everyone has been nothing but kind & understanding about it <3

You have a wonderful day as well ❤️

#where the dead forget #my fics #emica chat #thanks also for the comments & recs WTDF has been receiving lately #i wanna do that fic rec meme too #btw I randomly realized that today is one year since I published Flourishing #chapter 1 of Closest was published 3 days later #and both have since become my most popular greek mythology related fics by most metrics lol #anyway I’m ready for this year’s hot girl writing summer #i have a new writing cafe I go to and everything #lfggggg #liminal spaces (pza dreamers au)

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ilikereadingactually · 9 months ago

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Archangels of Funk

Archangels of Funk by Andrea Hairston

this is a tricky book to review! i liked it, let's start there. it took me a while to get into a groove with it, but we got there together, this book and i, and then at the end i got weepy which is always a plus. but i somehow read the entire thing not knowing that it's a sequel, or at the very least a followup, to two of Hairston's other books—which did clear up for me why i felt a bit lost most of the time while reading it, but which i'm actually glad i didn't know, because i probably wouldn't have requested the galley otherwise.

happily, i did request the galley, and read it in a few big chunks separated by several weeks, because other tasks got in the way of my fun reading time for a while; the second half of the book really went better for me than the first. i came into it feeling like i was rushed and running behind on deadlines both self-imposed and imposed by the publication date (spoiler: this book has been out for a few weeks already, whoops). that's not my favorite way to jump into any book, but really was hindering me reading this one, which has such a strong rhythm and music that it was like walking out of sync with the beat. i'm a person who walks in rhythm when there's a rhythm, bops when there's music (and often when the music is just in my head), and who reads best and most immersively when i can just let the prose carry me along. after totally blowing past the pub date and being busy-then-sick, i came back to it with a much more relaxed and open mind, and i had a great time. tl;dr, this is very much a book to read when nothing's pressing on you and you just want to float on feeling.

Hairston presents an imaginable future not too far from our present, after Water Wars have widened class (and, because they are inevitably linked, racial) divides into high tech walled communities and the folks who build their communities outside the reach of marketing and surveillance. we experience this world through shifting povs, including Cinnamon Jones, a pushing-sixty coder, farmer, performer, hoodoo practitioner, and community leader; her two dogs, each of whom is a bit more than a regular dog in their own unique ways; Indigo, a young goth who gives us a sense of this world outside of Cinnamon's farm and her immediate circle; and the Circus Bots, three performing robots possessed of powerful AI and modeled after Cinnamon's grandparents and great aunt, elders who continue to pleasantly haunt the narrative. and tying all this together is the mysterious Taiwo, who is perhaps a human war vet or a magician or a loa spirit or an alien, a top-hatted presence bringing unreality and real safety to the ensemble cast simultaneously.

it feels rare to me to read a story where AIs are pushing love and learning and creating community; where ghosts (in this case, haints) are a reassuring and life-affirming presence. those elements together, and mixed with straight up magic, feel very right and even more rare to me, and really encapsulate the ways in which this story is about both past and future, about celebration and revelation, about stage magic and real magic and technology and love, and what those things create together.

the deets

how i read it: as i mentioned, this was an e-galley from NetGalley that i'm very grateful to have had access to, even though i did not actually manage to read it before it was published. but i liked it enough that this is one i will probably buy for myself and definitely give as a gift to a friend also!

try this if you: dig really musical prose, enjoy a book where you have to just go with the flow, love a sweet slow pace, or were ever or still are a weird performing arts person. also i bet the audiobook of this is a banger.

some bits i really liked: relatable Cinnamon moments

The straw bale sugar shack made Cinnamon want a stack of blueberry pancakes with lots of syrup and butter. Jugs of maple lined the walls. Her mouth watered at maple candy, cookies, biscuits and cream pies. There was also maple relish, and maple suckers formed into weasel sculptures with mint-green eyes. Goodies for Festival.

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"Reverse the curse, ImagiNation! Who cares? Why do I put myself through theatre misery?"

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Cinnamon was a righteous rebel, a champion of the people. Secretly, she also felt superior to comfy, gullible users who'd been hacked and deep faked from day one, who thought they controlled their feeds, their fates, who believed they made up their own minds. Nobody made up their own mind. Mind was always a community affair.

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"Getting old, you haunt your own self," she explained.

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Dark days We know that Truth under the gun I ain't waiting For justice to be done I'ma be my own light And shine I'ma win my own fight Surprise I'ma be my own sun And rise I say Dark days We got that I'ma be my own sun And rise

pub date: May 7, 2024, it's out, go get it!!

#books and reading #bookblr #booklr #book recs #book reviews #queer sff #black sff #archangels of funk #andrea hairston

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orionsballad · 1 year ago

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Reflections after 70,000 words

A few chapters ago Orion's Ballad crossed 70,000 words. These are some of my thoughts:

Self imposed deadlines are strange. This is the first time in my life I've actually seriously committed to meeting self imposed deadlines even when I don't want to. On a few occasions I've woken up and written a chapter hours before it's due to publish. These are pretty consistently my least favorite chapters, and more than a few scenes that I'd been looking forward to writing felt underdone and rushed because of the crunch. Ultimately, I'm still glad I didn't delay any of those chapters, but it is motivation to write more and get ahead of my schedule again.

I'm absolutely delighted by commenters. Seriously, I love it. You're telling me people actually read my writing AND liked it enough to comment? Even speculate about future events?? WRITE 5 STAR REVIEWS? Amazing, 10/10 experience. Shout out to F24Valentine Bobgongo especially, love you guys <3

70,000 words is also kind of completely wild. I think my record for a project before Orion's Ballad was something like 30k? That's the number I've said for a long time, but last time I tried to find that project all I found was 10k, so maybe that's my actual previous record. Either way, it feels amazing to finally commit to one project and see such a staggering number. It also sucks. I want to write so many things, two other projects specifically are calling to me like sirens. I have an idea for a short hiatus point somewhere in the far future, and maybe I'll take that time to get started proper on one of those other projects, but for now I'm forcing myself to only indulge them as occasional treats for myself while I keep the bulk of my focus on Orion's Ballad.

In the background, life toils on. I'm broke, living with my parents, and occasionally suffocating in existential dread. I have some good friends and a wonderful partner that are keeping me going though, and every now and then the future actually looks kind of bright. It seems like 2024 is shaping up to be a year of slow, agonizing growth, but that's better than not growing at all, right?

Thanks for reading, if you found this in the tags than you should definitely check out Orion's Ballad on Royal Road. I post three chapters a week and I'm told it's a pretty good read.

#original writing #writing #authors #author updates

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beatriceeverytuesday-old · 2 years ago

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Hi hi :) Thank you so much I am just trying to bring positive sapphic and/or gender (nonbinary or transmasc or transfem haha I'm not picky) energy to the Buffyverse AND create the kind of stories and representation that I wish to read which is a lot of fun and I'm having a great time! I look forward to getting some comments from you! I understand the brain allowing you thing and full disclaimer: it's gonna be at least a week before I can start reading any of these due to my own self-imposed silly little fandom bingo deadlines. Especially cause you said your fics are longer and I wanna make sure I have the time to properly comment!

These sound SO GOOD to me and I'm eagerly adding them to my reading list!! I have so much to say and I am definitely intrigued and also laughing in places because you're so funny but I will save my thoughts and rambles for the comments section of your fics :) Thank you for taking the time to make me this very thoughtful and well-written endorsement and fic rec list I cannot wait to start reading!!!

[And, I only have a couple works published so far so it's not hard to look at them all and also you didn't ask, but my personal favorite of my own stuff so far is Haircut, Home & Heaven, just in case you wondered :) I'm just really proud of how that one turned out. Close second is He Slays Monsters which is very near and dear to me as a concept and is currently occupying most of my brain but tbh I'm a little nervous to rec it cause honestly I'm so new to posting fanfic and I think I'm still finding my footing and my voice as a writer so my stuff isn't *the best* yet, but I enjoy what I'm making, so I'll continue writing + posting it haha]

Hi! I'm new here (here being your blog, calendiles fandom, and also just...Buffyverse fandom in general? I haven't been here that long haha) and I finally got around to checking out your work on AO3 and uuuhhh you've written SO MUCH!!! So first of all, THAT'S AMAZING, GOOD JOB!! But second of all, I have no idea where to start reading... Can I maybe get like a rec from you of your top 5 faves? (Not fan faves, but YOUR faves, fics/series you're most proud of, etc.) Please and thank you :)

oh, wow, this is so sweet <333 hello! i have seen your fic in the buffyverse tag and lurked more than once there. expect some reviews at SOME point when my brain will allow me, because you are adding some excellent sapphic/nonbinary representation to the buffyverse in a very lovely way. i deeply appreciate your energy.

as for my top five faves -- i appreciate your specification that they have to be MY top five faves, because i really was about to just point to the braveryverse as smth that i think you personally might like. (not a single straight person, found family, etcetc). but my personal top five is a lil different than the stuff that's the most popular w/ fandom at large. (not by too much though.)

all of these range from "a little lengthy" to "novel-length" but i think they are worth it! and they are also all complete! (except for the first one on the list, which has a sequel in the works, but everything PUBLISHED is complete!)

1. never mind the years of wasted time

so this is my long-standing baby that i am blogging about all the time! it's so important to me! i cannot overemphasize how much this 'verse means to me. it's an improbable little everybody lives/nobody dies au set about three years after canon, and in my heart it does kind of stand as a spiritual follow-up to canon, in that the emotional place that giles starts the story is very much a continuation of the emotional place that he ends canon in. there are so many details within the main fic (what you make) that i cannot pack into a single summary (giles and jenny's eight-year-old son, who she left sunnydale to raise! giles and buffy trying to figure out how to reckon with the concept of giles being a parent to a kid that isn't her! jenny's adoring extended family! a subplot that is literally just all about how giles's parents met and fell in love! giles and jenny's individual baggage from their complicated parents and how that informed the decisions they made with each other and with/for the kids they were in charge of!) also it is impossible to read the fic and come away NOT loving art or alice or nora. nora is literally my url now because i tricked myself into loving her so hard by writing her all the time.

anyway yes! top of my list, this is the thing i am the most proudest of, it is literally novel-length and i have been considering learning book-binding just because i want the physical experience of making it into something that i can hold.

2. as day follows night

this is also long but um, less long? this is The Faith Fic. i don't really know how to talk about it without spoiling it (or if i've already talked about it and spoiled it, or if the tags will spoil it...) but suffice it to say that this fic is about faith right after killing the deputy mayor, and her decision to ally herself with an all-powerful witch. or more like "attach herself." like to the witch's skirts. and hang on while the witch drags her around trying to get her to let go. (this girl has some attachment issues). it's got fuffy it's got fairy tales it's got the force of platonic love being the most powerful force in the world <3 and i think it is the first long fic i ever wrote where i had an outline and a plot that made sense and consistent tone throughout!

3. the tale of princess imogen

FAIRYTALE CALENDILES WHAT MORE CAN I EVEN SAY??? also some background fuffy and tillow bc obviously! anyway this whole fic is about jenny the witch pining helplessly for giles the acting monarch and losing her mind a little when princess buffy lets it slip that he's in love with some dark-haired lady who's constantly hanging around the castle all the time. and then subsequently coming up with a Magic Plan to ruin his chances of ever being able to win this dark-haired lady over, because what if she's bad for the kingdom? what if she's just trying to grab at power? THIS IS FOR POLITICAL REASONS SHE IS VERY NORMAL.

4. illumination

this one is about giles and jenny both realizing that they share the experience of being closeted bisexual individuals in a het-passing relationship & subsequently figuring out how to process this. (so obviously chapter three is pegging. but it's THEMATICALLY IMPORTANT pegging. and if explicit stuff isn't your cup of tea, the first two chapters are totally sfw!)

5. private life

i am actually really proud of this one! this is set in season four and it's about xander walking in on giles kissing a man and having to reckon with a lot of complicated internalized biphobia. i love xander so much. of course he has to make this list. (and this is DEFINITELY the shortest fic on this list lmao.)

also honorable mentions to north star and it's the principle of the thing, which are the fics that i write when i'm not feeling like writing a Big Complicated Interlock-y project, so if you wanna read something of mine that will (uh, someday) be updated and is still in progress, that would be where to go right now until the what you make sequel shows up! north star is essentially a (mostly) scooby genfic that's set in season six where willow resurrects jenny to prove herself to giles, and it deals with the fallout of that. it's the principle of the thing is a super trope-y fic about giles and jenny getting green card married in the middle of season one because that's what you do when your workplace enemy might have to leave :) you propose marriage so he can't :) it's normal :) she's normal :) she's fine :) do not look her in the eye

#fanfic recs #to read #ty!!!#:)

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martsonmars · 2 years ago

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Hello hello!!! This week was exciting but exhausting (I moved into a new flat for uni!!! Finally living without my family, though I'll have flatmates from Friday 😭), so I'm happy it's over.

I have SO many fic deadlines coming up (a couple of secret projects with self imposed deadlines, COTTA in less than two weeks, prompt fest) and I have to get back to my COBB because I miss it, but I'm feeling weirdly confident that the change of environment will give me my creativity back. Maybe I'm wrong, but tonight/this morning I wrote an entire fic, so that's promising: went to sleep at 10pm, woke up at 2am and I wasn't tired anymore, so I started writing and I didn't stop until the fic was complete, which is something I wouldn't have been able to do at home, but now that I'm alone I can write all night and sleep during the day!!! Exciting!!! (At least until classes start 🥲)

So here is a longish snippet (carefully chosen by @johnwgrey because I didn't want to reread the whole thing) from said fic, which just needs some light editing and will hopefully be posted by the end of the day!

Baz presses his face deeper into the pillow, trying to drown out the low humming of the hoover that woke him up. He doesn’t understand why anyone would choose Sunday morning to do chores, when Sunday mornings clearly have the sole purpose of pretending the world doesn’t exist and sleeping in with your new boyfriend, but Baz will be the bigger person and won’t comment on it.

Let people decide how to spend their limited time on this cruel Earth — Baz knows he has his priorities set right.

Step one: snuggle closer to the warm body dozing off next to him.

Simon.

Even with his brain still clouded by sleep — Baz knows it can’t be later than 9, his body feels it and is screaming at him that it’s not natural to be anywhere but in dreamsworld this early in the morning, especially when the clock was slowly approaching a worrying 4 when he closed his eyes last night — Baz can relive every second of the previous day, sharp and crystal clear.

The lazy morning as Baz stared up at Simon with a stupid, blissed-out expression that would’ve made him gag just a couple of months before. (But dating Simon is also this — breaking out of his shell because he no longer feels like he should hide the softness of his heart. He knows Simon will cherish it with the same care he reserves for fragile shortcrust pastry.)

Tomorrow is the anniversary of my first Snowbaz fic, and I have an amazing surprise to share! I can't wait.

Tags and hellos under the cut! + bonus sentence from a secret WIP I'm excited about and terribly scared of 🤣

Bonus sentence:

@wellbelesbian @urban-sith @tea-brigade @sillyunicorn @mostlymaudlin @facewithoutheart @palimpsessed @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @forabeatofadrum @johnwgrey @fatalfangirl @prettylightsbigcity @whatevertheweather @jbrrring @confused-bi-queer @moodandmist @bookish-bogwitch @letraspal @dragoneggo @captain-aralias @takitalks @theotherhufflepuff @otherworldsivelivedin @excalisbury @shemakesmeforget @starwarned @cutestkilla @ileadacharmedlife @gekkoinapeartree @bazzybelle @bloodiedpixie @stardustasincocaine @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @angelsfalling16 @basiltonbutliketheherb @messofthejess @ivelovedhimthroughworse @nightimedreamersworld @artsyunderstudy @foolofabookwyrm-activated @ionlydrinkhotwater @yellobb @orange-peony @ic3-que3n @whogaveyoupermission

[Redacted] stares down at the long blade pointing to his neck. He follows it to meet a pale muscled arm half covered in black cloth, and an equally pale face that screams annoyance more than murder, as if threatening [Redacted]'s life was just a mere inconvenience in the man's path.

We'll see if I ever write this.

#six sentence sunday #my writing

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thesecrimsonstrings-if · 3 years ago

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PROGRESS UPDATE!

so i had to edit some stuff in A's route because of the extra mechanics with the senarath twins but it looks pretty okay for now! imma have to polish it and add some lines after i'm done with all the routes but i still got time left for that. i'm staying in canada right now and the whole moving process was chaotic and currently i'm just trying to settle in the new apartment the best i can and finish chapter one for all the routes.

my self-imposed deadline is before july so y'all still have to wait at least 3-4 months 💀 i thank every one of you for your patience tho and i'll continue to write, even if it's like one page per day. my semester will be over around the end of june so it'll be fun to release it when summer break approaches.

on to a different topic, i have quite a bit of WIPs in my drafts that i would like to get into and plan out when TCS gets me in a writing slump. i will only be writing it on the sidelines so do not expect regular updates and utmost attention on it from me like TCS usually gets. however, i am pretty pumped about it either way and i'll make sure no gremlin ever deletes my developement blog.

so here's the offer, i want you all to choose the IF that you are most excited for me to work on and vote on it accordingly. the book that gets the most votes will be the one i'll be continuing to write and pump out updates when TCS is on a break.

#ignore the digital marketing banner #but i want your opinions on it #these crimson strings #progress update #future projects

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doeeyeseddie · 2 years ago

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wip wednesday

i was tagged by the wonderful @theladyyavilee @eddiediazes and @hetrez (thank you all so much!!), so have some words from the different first meeting fic i've been frantically writing trying to finish in time for my self-imposed deadline so i can post it on my 2 year anniversary of writing 911 fic:

The day after he graduates (at the top of his class, officially) and the day before he starts his first shift at the 118, Eddie takes Christopher to Buck’s cupcake class. The entire time they’re there, he tries not to think about how he doesn’t know when they’re going to see Buck next. He hasn’t wanted to book any more classes until he’s settled in with the work schedule at least a little bit, and it feels odd not to have a set date to look forward to.

He wants to tell Buck and maybe ask him for his number, but to do that, he’d have to admit that he’s been specifically picking the classes Buck teaches, and he’s still not sure that won't just freak him out.

But once again, he didn’t take his son into account, who refuses to keep any of Eddie’s secrets.

“Buck,” he says while the two of them are scrubbing one of the cooking stations and Eddie is, as always, stacking the chairs. “Dad said maybe we can’t come here for a while.”

Eddie looks over at them in time to meet Buck’s startled gaze. “You can’t?”

“I start my new job tomorrow,” Eddie explains, putting the last chair away and coming to stand next to Buck. “I’m going to work shifts, and I just don’t really know yet how that’ll affect our schedule, so I haven’t booked any more classes yet.”

“Oh.” Buck pauses. “What new job?”

“I’m a firefighter,” Eddie says, and saying it out loud kind of fills him with pride. “A probationary one, but still.”

Buck laughs, rubbing at his forehead with the back of his hand. “No way.”

i tag @capseycartwright @littlespoonevan @like-the-rest-of-la @thatbuddie @hoediaz and @gayravi if you want to share!

#in case someone was wondering i'm not at all sure i can finish this on time #but i AM determined to try #tag meme #p #cooking class au

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andiinaraethtash · 3 years ago

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ask game; 5, 13, 26, 32, 47, 51, 68 and 79! (random)

5. How many wips do you have? What fandoms/pairings are they for?

Okay, so I have eight-ish. Which may not seem like much but they are all multichapter fics, and most of them are Star Wars (which was my main fandom before mcyt stuff came and ruined me) but I have two Empires fanfics in the works: Can't Escape the Fallout (which is still in progress, so it counts) and one I'm tentatively calling: I'd Make a Deal with God (And Get Him to Swap Our Places). None of them are based on any pairings romantically, though.

13. Do you listen to music while you write? If yes, what have you been listening to recently?

I can't write without music in the background. Recently, I've been listening to "Chill Instrumental Pop Music" so it's something familiar but I don't get distracted by lyrics.

26. What’s your least favorite part of the writing process?

I told @pacificseaotter (sorry about the tag) this, but I'll say it again: the self-discipline involved. My gosh, it is so hard to meet self-imposed deadlines and hold to schedules. It royally sucks.

32. Do you take fic requests? Why or why not?

Not... really? I'll occasionally ask my readers what they think could or should happen to get inspiration, but I don't write something specifically because someone asked me to. (Most of the time, anyway. If one of my mutuals asked me to write something in a universe I'm familiar with with characters I know and love, and pairings I support, then I might. Maybe.)

But I don't because of why I write. I write because I want to tell these stories. If someone asked me to write a random story, I'd have next to no motivation to finish it, because it isn't a story I've dreamed about reading and telling. Sure, if they ask me for a fic that captures my imagination and let me go wild with the prompt I might, but most of the time they're looking for one specific fic that isn't going to turn out the way they want it if they let me take the prompt and run.

47. Is there a trope that you’ve written before but are now sick of?

Nope! My main tropes to this point in my writing... is it a career if I'm not making money? Anyway, at this point in my life, I've written mostly two tropes: fake character death and time-travel fix-its. Neither of which I'm sick of, because both can cause great stories to unfold and major angst to ensue.

51. Does what you like to write differ from what you like to read?

A bit, mostly in that I like to read the occasional domestic fluff, but I can't write that without feeling incredibly bored. but otherwise, nope!

68. Are there any fics that influenced you to write the way you do?

Oh, there are tons. Dominoes by @meridiansdominoes (or meridianpony over on ao3) influenced my biggest work to date, my Young Enough to Try series, but currently my writing style takes a lot after @goldkirk and their series Latchkey. Those are the main two, but I absorb a bit from every fic I read.

79. Do you have any writing advice you want to share?

Again, pacificseaotter actually asked me this before, but I'm happy to repeat myself: find the character's voice before you try writing them. Figure out what they sound like, their typical vocabulary, their accent, their inflections, and you'll have a much easier time with both their internal monologue and their actual dialogue! (Most other advice I've disregarded at some point or another, so that's the only one I feel comfortable sharing because it's the only one I really follow.)

Thank you so much for the ask! Which reminds me, I need to find which of the asks I want to send you, so look forward to that in the future!

#ask #ask game #answered ask

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fandombitxh-derogatory · 3 years ago

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Teach Me, Teach

summary

Analogical Week Part 5 posted (ao3 or read here)

Logan likes to be helpful. That’s just part of who he is. It’s why he hasn’t quite given up on being the voice of reason, even if he feels (DON’T FEEL) as though the others are constantly ignoring him. He just needs to work on his patience more. He can’t let him win.

That’s not the point.

The point is that Logan likes to be helpful in any way he can be, so when Virgil embarrasses himself slightly with his skateboarding commercial, in which it was made obvious that Virgil couldn’t skate, Logan started to think. Skateboarding was something that Thomas had been interested in when he was younger, and, though he never pursued that interest, Logan still had the knowledge and ability to skateboard. (He gains the ability to do things once he knows the ins and outs of how it is done, just a benefit of being Logic, he supposes.)

Logan felt a bit more connected with Virgil than he did the others, despite them seemingly being opposite with Logan’s fiery collectedness and Virgil’s calm panic. However, the two rarely got the opportunity to hang out together under non-work related circumstances, so this gave Logan the chance to get closer to Virgil that he had always been waiting for.

The opportunity to finally ask Virgil if he would even be open to learning how to skateboard arose late one evening when Thomas was, once again, working on a project after procrastinating for some time. He was only revising the rough draft of a script, so Roman had headed to bed since there was no need for any more creative input at the moment. Not that Roman’s creative inputs had been comprehensible the past two hours when trying to get Thomas through the writing of the rough draft. It was likely that they would have to go over it again once they were properly rested, which was why Logan was slightly against this work session.

However, as much as Logan disliked the late night revision process, it did present him with the opportunity to talk to Virgil. The other was just there because of Thomas’s panic over the (self-imposed) deadline, but Logan appreciated his presence nonetheless.

“Alright, Lo, I’m bored, and you could probably do these corrections in your sleep, so talk to me, please.” Virgil finally complained after nearly an hour of sitting in silence, watching Thomas and Logan work on the script.

Logan adjusted his glasses as he responded, “Ah, yes, there was something that I wanted to ask you.”

Virgil lifted an eyebrow, shifting in his seat in order to sit upright instead of half-laying down, “Ask away, Teach.”

“Remember the commercials we all made when we were sponsored by Crofter’s?”

“Yeah, what about them?”

“Would you be interested in me teaching you how to skateboard?”

That was clearly not where Virgil had expected the conversation to go, since his eyes widened as he asked, “You know how to skateboard?”

“I know everything,” Logan answered in the smuggest tone he could muster, causing Virgil to bark out a laugh as Logan grinned back at him. “In all honesty though, Thomas was interested in it a while back, so I know how to do the basics if you want to learn.”

“Sure, sounds interesting. When would we do it, though?” Virgil leaned back again, clearly more at ease now that he knew what the question had been about.

“Up to you, I suppose. Like you said, most of my job I can do without actively being present and guiding Thomas step-by-step.”

“Alright, cool, so whenever Thomas is the least stressed.”

“I guess that would probably be after the script is completed.”

“You guess correctly, Teach, so I guess it’ll be soon.”

“Alright then.”

~~~~~

It was two days after that conversation that Virgil approached Logan with a skateboard he had summoned up. Logan simply nodded at him before doing some last minute things, to make sure Thomas would stay on task with his cleaning, and getting up to join Virgil.

The two of them walked out into an area of the mindspace that was just open concrete, perfectly smooth and even. A good place to learn skateboarding, even if it wouldn’t exist outside of someone’s mind. Virgil set down the skateboard, which clattered quite loudly, and Logan simply watched as Virgil put his foot on it to keep it from rolling away.

Virgil then looked at Logan expectantly, which caused Logan to say, “Oh right, well, first up is how you should position your feet. Your front foot should be placed right before the upward curve of the board and should be facing forwards, while your back foot is sideways a bit behind it in order to keep your weight balanced on the board.”

“Alright, cool. Uh, can I hold onto you until I get balanced right?” Virgil asked, slouching over and not meeting Logan’s eyes as he did so.

“Of course, whatever helps.”

Logan was quick to get closer to Virgil, the board being in between them. Virgil smiled slightly, holding out his hands for Logan to take, which he did with only a second of hesitance. Neither of them were very physically affectionate, so this was the first time they’ve really purposefully touched each other. That shouldn’t be as momentous as Logan’s heart is making it.

Once they were holding each other’s hands, Virgil positioned his right foot to be facing forward on the board. He looked up at Logan, nodded, and then quickly put his left foot on the board. Virgil wobbled, causing him to squeeze Logan’s hands in panic and put more of his weight onto Logan’s arms. Logan did his best to keep his arms steady and hold Virgil still. Soon enough, Virgil stopped moving and seemed quite secure and balanced on the skateboard.

“Okay, are you ready for me to let go?” Logan asked, knowing that they probably wouldn’t make any progress with Virgil clinging onto his hands like he was in that moment.

Virgil nodded hesitantly, “Yeah, but stay close, okay?”

“Okay, I’m going to let go now.” Logan pulled his hands away from Virgil’s, “I’ll catch you if you fall, don’t worry.”

“Right, okay.” Virgil held his arms out beside him, as if to hold him steady despite the fact that he looked quite sturdy already.

Logan was quite pleased with how well Virgil seemed to be doing so far, granted it wasn’t a very large step. Balancing on the board was the first thing all skateboarders had to learn, and it didn’t take Virgil very long to get it. It may be different if Logan isn’t there to support him as he adjusts his balance at the start, but he was doing well at the moment.

“Alright, whenever you’re ready, you use your back foot to push off of the ground to move the board forward. Don’t forget to face forward, too.” Logan told the other, taking a step back and getting ready to catch Virgil if he fell.

Virgil let out an audible breath after adjusting his posture, and then moved his foot in order to lightly push off the ground. He apparently didn’t lift his foot back up to the board quick enough. With his weight still leaning back and his foot moving forward, he fell back, but Logan was quick to reach his arms out to catch him.

Once they both took a breath to calm themselves, Virgil looked at their position and started to turn red. Logan didn’t quite understand the flustered response, so he checked to see how they landed. Logan was holding Virgil like a bride.

Oh. Oh, no.

Logan quickly pushed Virgil up to his feet, allowing the other to steady before stepping back. He adjusted his tie and cleared his throat before saying, “Well, uh, that was the correct motion, but I believe you have to move more quickly for it to work the way it is supposed to.”

Virgil nodded and said, “Makes sense. Thanks for catching me… I, uh, didn’t realize how strong you were.”

“Ah, it’s not a problem, Virgil, and thank you, I suppose.”

They both remained quiet, trying their best to get over the flustering situation. Logan couldn’t help but wonder if Virgil was also thinking about what could have happened if they had remained in that position. Logan was slightly regretting moving so quickly, as he could easily imagine the two of them sharing a quick kiss if they ever found themselves in that pose again.

Virgil recovered first, going to rush over where the skateboard had rolled off to in order to try again at the push off. Logan quickly got over himself as Virgil approached him once more with skateboard in hand.

They spent almost two hours like that, with Virgil working on balancing on the skateboard properly while moving and Logan having to catch him every so often. Each time Logan caught Virgil, they would both fluster and panic slightly due to the proximity, but they got over it more quickly each time it happened.

When they were nearing the end of Virgil’s patience with the skateboard, he fell off one last time, landing them in the same position that they had been the first time he fell, with Logan holding Virgil as if he were a bride. Instead of Logan pushing Virgil to his feet, he allowed Virgil a moment of rest, noticing that the other had become fatigued throughout this experience.

Once Virgil caught his breath, he looked up at Logan, giving him a genuine smile, and said, “Hey.”

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle before responding, “Hello.”

“Thanks for this.”

“Of course… I’ve quite enjoyed our time together.”

“Me too, Lo. We need to hang out more often.” Virgil said, finally moving to stand, but not making his way out of Logan’s hold.

Logan gently squeezed the other’s waist for no real reason other than because he could, “I agree.”

Virgil smiled, but Logan noticed how his eyes were stealing glances of Logan’s lips every few moments, as if he couldn’t help himself. Subconsciously, Logan licked over his lips quickly, noting how Virgil’s pupils dilated and his breath caught. Logan didn’t even try to stop himself as he leant towards Virgil slowly, loosening his hold in case he was reading the signs wrong.

Logan was slightly surprised when Virgil met him halfway, their lips touching in a brief kiss (more of a peck than anything) before they pulled away. Logan was quick to lean back in again, as was Virgil. They kissed over and over and over again, only pausing when they needed to breathe, yet the kisses stayed innocent.

After a while, they pulled away for the last time, both of them satisfied for the time being. Logan knocked his forehead gently against Virgil's, both of them smiling like idiots. They both knew that they would have to talk through this in order to ease Virgil's worries and help with Logan's control issues, but that was for later. Right then, all they could think was, Finally.

#ao3 fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #analogical #analogical week #logan sanders #virgil sanders #fanfiction #ao3 writer #fanfiction writer

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phykios · 4 years ago

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honesty and promise me part 9, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

He doesn’t text her later. He doesn’t text her for two weeks. On day fifteen of no contact from Percy, Annabeth begins to accept that whatever they had might be over now.

That’s alright, she reminds herself. She had been working up to breaking it off with him for a while, and he just went ahead and did it for her. Saves her the trouble, really.

October rolls on, wet and cold, inching ever closer to Halloween, and Annabeth finds herself seeking refuge at Piper’s, lending her body and her skills to help her friend finish her collection before her self-imposed deadline. At least the work provides a nice distraction from her silent phone--when Percy stopped texting her, Thalia did, too. Well. That’s that, she supposes.

Still, the fact that they were never officially dating doesn’t stop Annabeth from scrolling through his Instagram at 2 AM like some pathetic ex-girlfriend, screenshotting all her favorite photos so she can look at them later without the threat of accidentally liking them. He’s been posting a lot of stills from that fucking music video again, the divinely crafted muscles of his body on full display in cool, blue light, brown cheekbone and jawline sharper than ever. Beyonce herself even liked a few of them.

God damn she’s a fucking idiot.

It must be the self-pity that’s making her crazy, because when Luke calls her up to be his date/eye candy to some fancy semi-costumed party that weekend at an art gallery on the Lower East Side, she agrees without even thinking about it.

The gallery isn’t that far (certainly much, much closer than the Lincoln Center) but Annabeth has not worn heels in probably up to a calendar year, and she just cannot make herself walk that far. She will not. Her tiny-ass cross-body bag isn’t big enough to hold a separate pair of walking shoes. So she ponies up the exorbitant cab fare to the Lower East Side, asking the driver to drop her at the Seward Park Library so she can elegantly sashay down the sidewalk with the rest of the rich and glamorous.

No one spares her a second glance, which is both relieving and strangely disheartening. She’s become too used to turning heads, she thinks.

Well. One head in particular.

“Hey, Annabeth!” Luke appears from thin air, dressed immaculately as always. His sandy hair has come a long way since business school, now tamed and laid perfectly, but with the faintest touch of dishevelment, like he couldn’t completely fix it after someone’s hands had been all over it. He looks even more handsome than he had on her birthday. He kisses her on the cheek, right on the sensitive skin of an old, failed piercing, and she shivers. “You look incredible.”

Before she left Piper’s apartment that day, Annabeth had raided her small stash of designer clothes and had rediscovered her old faithful that Piper had tried to bury, the midi-length Valentino dress she had worn to the unveiling of her and Leo’s collaboration. It’s a light, powder blue, which can’t be helped, but the lace collar and three-quarter sleeves cover most of her tattoos. She had dug out her tiara, too, making herself a low-key Halloween costume out of the spring season dress. Though the dress doesn’t fit like it did a year ago, Which is depressing as all hell. “Thanks. You, too.”

He beams at her, holding out his arm. “Shall we?”

“Who did you say was the artist, again?” she asks, taking it.

“I didn’t. Something with an ‘L,’ I think. Levelle? Levique? I don’t remember.”

The white gallery walls have been draped in shades of inky blue and midnight purple, all the better to see the crystal sculptures on display: beautiful renderings of swords and skulls, deadly weapons and human bones. There’s something mind-numbingly obvious about holding a spooky, macabre-themed gallery show on Halloween night, entitled “Death and Riches,” but she has to admit, the artwork is stunning. The crystals take what little light is cast from the weak ceiling lamps and multiply it, casting the dark velvets in rainbow reflections. Annabeth feels like she’s walking through the night sky, like she could reach out and rearrange the stars in the constellations. “Look at this,” she murmurs to Luke, stopping them in front of a sculpture of an ancient cavalry sword. “This is incredible.”

He grunts. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

Annabeth fixes him with a look. “‘Cool’? Seriously?”

“What? It’s just a rock.”

She shakes her head. “You are wasted on an art gallery.”

“I am,” he agrees, swiftly. “I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my bosses.”

“What do you mean?”

Luke steers her away from the sculpture, moving them onward. “One of our assistant executives, he’s about to close a huge deal with some big wig from Europe who runs this massive import/export, but before everything is made official, he wanted to meet all of us.”

“Why here, though?”

“He’s in town for this gallery opening; the artist is his niece, or something.”

Ugh. This is why she swore off business bros: always an ulterior motive with these people. “Hey, I’m going to go look for something to drink, do you want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” he waves her off.

Annabeth, teetering on her towering heels, has to make her way against the current of the crowd towards the refreshments table along the edge of the wall. She feels ten pounds lighter without all the metal in her face, her center of gravity completely out of whack--not to mention she’s having trouble seeing with all this hair in her face. To better disguise her undercut, she had brushed all her hair over her head in one big, voluminous side ponytail on the wrong side of her face. It’s disorienting, to say the least.

Her stomach roils at the display of food, even as her mouth waters a little bit at the bruschetta with olive tapenade. Rather than risk it, she decides to just go with a glass of sparkling cider. She’s been feeling sick and anxious all day long, dreading every moment of this gala; the last thing she wants to do is exacerbate it with champagne.

Before she makes her way back to Luke’s side, however, she wants to take another look at the actual art. Or at least find out who the actual artist is. Whoever they are, they are phenomenally talented.

“Excuse me,” Annabeth says to the staff member manning the food table. “Do you have any more information about the artist? I’d love to see more of their work.”

“Sure!” she chirps, turning round to grab something off a stack of pamphlets beside her. “You can read more about Ms. Levesque here.”

“Thank you,” says Annabeth, taking the glossy brochure. Levesque. Levesque Levesque Levesque. She knows that name, she’s sure of it. Penny in the air…

Slowly, like she’s walking a labyrinth, she makes her way around the gallery. The booklet has descriptions of each piece of art on display, contexts and histories and prices that make her sweat a little. But by the time she returns to the cavalry sword, her head is swimming--probably from the lack of food--her eyes straining in the dim light. She has completely lost track of Luke. She has completely lost track of the time. Annabeth puts her hand to her head, pressing her fingers against the bone of her forehead.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She jolts at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. The owner of the hand pulls away immediately, holding it up in a placating motion.

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Annabeth blinks at the person in front of her. He’s blond, tall, with glasses and a scar on his upper lip, and she cannot shake the bone-deep feeling that she’s seen him before.

“You look a little pale. Do you need to sit down?” he asks, electric blue eyes shining with concern.

She shakes her head. “No, no, I’m okay, just a little… the light, you know. Makes it hard to read.”

“I know how you feel,” he says, nodding sagely. “The lighting setup here is absolute murder on my glasses.” Then he sticks out his hand, proud and jutting. “I’m Jason.”

Furiously, she blinks away unbidden tears, turning her sudden sob into a light laugh at the thought of the last time she had met someone named Jason. Or, someone she thought had been named Jason. “Annabeth.” His grip is firm and congenial, like a senator. “Are you with Mercury Exchange, too?”

“Oh, no,” he says, “I’m just here to support the artist. She’s my cousin.”

“Well, congratulations to your cousin on a beautiful gallery opening,” says Annabeth, inclining her head with a smile that he returns. “These sculptures are incredible.”

Jason follows her gaze, and when she looks at him again, he’s smiling. The scar gives his smile an adorable edge. “Hazel is very talented.”

Penny drops. “Hazel Levesque?” Annabeth asks. “Your cousin is Hazel Levesque?”

“Yeah!” Jason beams. “You ever listen to a band called Pluto’s Daughter?”

“You’re Jason Grace?”

That takes him aback, blinking in shock. “Yes… how did you--oh, you know Thalia?” he asks.

No. No no no, this cannot be happening. “Um, not-not really, I just--”

“I just saw her, like, ten minutes ago--”

No no no, she cannot be here, she can’t see Annabeth, not like this-- “Actually,” Annabeth cuts in, “I should really get back to my date, I’m sure he’s worried sick, it was nice meeting you!” And she bolts from the conversation in the general direction of the exit, leaving a very confused member of the cousin consortium in her wake.

Stupid, so stupid, how did she not look this up beforehand, how did she not put it together sooner? She can’t let anyone see her like this, dolled up and--and downright clean. The crowd has turned into an impenetrable wall, the gaps between patrons too small for her to slip between. The dark walls close in around her, suffocating her, and her panic rises, stomach churning, bile crawling up her throat.

From the crush of people, a hand shoots out to grasp hers, and she jumps a foot in the air. “There you are!” says Luke. “Come on, I want you to meet the big wig.”

“Oh, Luke, I don’t know,” she stammers, “I’m-I’m not feeling very well, I think I had a bad burrito earlier, and--”

“It’ll just take a minute,” he wheedles, “We just gotta show up, make some small talk for a few minutes, then I’ll get you home. Sounds good?” But she can’t resist as he pulls her deeper into the gallery.

Like fucking Moses and the fucking Red Sea, the crowd parts before them, laying out a clear path to the three very well dressed men in the center of the room. Even from behind, she can tell that they’re all related: three copies of the same broad build, the same thick, black hair, peppered with grey, the same radiating aura of power and influence, engaged in deep, important conversation.

“Mr. Olympianides?” Luke politely interjects.

As one, the three of them turn to face him, identical gazes sizing them up, pinning them in place. “Yes?” intones the oldest-looking one, his earth-brown eyes cold and dispassionate.

“I think he means me, brother,” says the middle-looking one, jovial. “You’re with Mercury too, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yes, sir,” says Luke, holding out a hand. “Luke Castellan, it’s an honor to meet you.”

“Ah, of course!” he says, taking Luke’s hand. “I’ve heard great things about you from Prometheus. I understand I have you to thank for the success of the Saturn deal?”

Luke, wholly in his element, smiles his perfectly practiced sycophantic smile--just the right cocktail of humble and arrogant, gracious and gregarious. You can tell he double majored in theater. “It was no trouble at all, really.”

Then he turns his gaze to Annabeth, and she just about faints.

Those eyes. She knows those eyes. Perfectly blue-green, like the waters of the Mediterranean in the sunshine, beneath thick, black eyebrows, with an aquiline nose and a full, salt and pepper beard--she is, without a doubt, looking into the unimaginably handsome face of Percy’s father.

“May I have the name of your lovely lady?” He takes her hand, bringing it up to his for a kiss.

Annabeth’s eyes practically bug out of her head. This is what Percy will turn into in twenty years? Good lord.

“This is my…” Luke trails off, sparing her a glance. “This is Annabeth Chase. She’s an architect here in New York. Annabeth, these are the gentlemen I was telling you about: Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus Olympianides.”

Oddly enough, part of her relaxes, even at Luke’s little fib. If Percy’s father is here, then that means that Percy might not be. She would still have to duck Thalia, but if Luke lets her leave within the next few minutes, that shouldn’t be too hard.

“Chase--like the Boston Chases?” the oldest brother asks. She’s seen those dark eyes, as well, lined with black, and sometimes with glitter.

Annabeth smiles, just a little vacant. She hasn’t had a conversation like this in two years, but back in Boston she’d had them nearly weekly. “That’s the one,” she agrees, letting a giggle out at the end. With business bros her age, they preferred a little bit of a too cool attitude, they’d loved her with all the metal in her face. But the older ones like a giggle. From the corner of her vision, she sees Luke give her just a little bit of a side eye.

“You’re Randolph’s daughter?” Asks the other brother. His eyes are electric blue. Even if Annabeth hadn’t just met Jason, she’d have known this was Thalia’s father from twenty paces.

“I’m his niece,” Annabeth says. “Frederick is my father.”

“The middle one?” Percy’s father says, with a little bit of a grin.

“Yes.” So far, so good--and no one has asked about her mother. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to see that she is not her stepmother’s daughter.

There’s maybe the slightest hint of snideness when Zeus says, “Another Harvard graduate, I assume.”

So there are a lot of Chases at Harvard. On a whim, one night while she should have been writing her Modernism final instead, Annabeth had spent several hours making an academic genealogical chart, inordinately pleased when she found out that her old, decrepit freshman history professor had also taught her father, way back in the day.

“Guilty,” she titters, “but I did attend Miss Minerva’s here in the city.”

“So your Randolph’s niece,” Thalia’s dad asks again, “And Frey Vanir is married to your aunt.”

“Yes.” She bites down on the “sir.” She’s got to have some standards.

“Good families,” Nico and Hazel’s father says, nodding at her, “Chases and Vanir.”

Annabeth has some very, very hazy memories of meeting her own fabulously wealthy extended family, just after her little cousin Magnus had been born. She doesn’t recall much, but she can remember the high, vaulted ceilings of her aunt’s apartment on Commonwealth Avenue, the view of the Public Gardens just down the block, and the very big, very sharp-looking sword hanging above the mantel. The Chases are a well-off family, it’s true, but the Vanir, old money from leftover Nordic peerage are very much on the Olympianides' level, even if Annabeth is the one wearing a tiara that allegedly once belonged to the crown jewels of Sweden.

Athena Pallas is on that same level, too, but Annabeth would rather run into Thalia then talk about her mother. Especially with these people.

Then Poseidon’s gaze fixes on something behind her, and he breaks into a broad, heartbreakingly familiar grin. “Ah, Percy, there you are!” he calls.

The smile drops from her face, and her blood freezes. Caught in the gravity well of a black hole, she turns.

A huge mistake.

Her only thought is How dare he be so handsome.

He’s in a suit she’s never seen before, crisply pressed, but comfortable, simple black but with pearl cuff links, to match his father’s. The sharp lines of the suit hide his beautiful form beneath them in a way that makes Annabeth understand the appeal of lingerie like she never has before. He looms, back discipline-straight, his face scrubbed clean and eyebrows perfectly shaped, and to cap it all off, a pair of simple, classy diamond studs in his ears. Percy Jackson remains, as always, unfairly gorgeous, the perfect specimen of male beauty, and Annabeth is powerless under his gaze.

And he’s just heard every word of their conversation.

“Percy,” his father says, “have you met Annabeth Chase?”

Percy stares at her, mouth open a little. She watches those eyes take her in from top to bottom, hairstyle to clean face to conservative dress to high heels. Never, ever one to hide his emotions, she can see his inner monologue playing out on his face: shock and awe, bewilderment and confusion, jerkily transitioning to… to a politely blank face. Like the surface of the ocean, the wave of his feelings disappear beneath his skin, leaving no trace that they were ever there. “No,” he says, in a tone that broaches no argument. “No, I don’t believe I’ve ever met Annabeth Chase before.”

He takes her in again. Percy was never above leering, but he was always pretty situational about it. He would wait until sex was explicitly on the table, wait until she wanted to see him go just a little bit crazy for her. He doesn’t leer now, cataloguing the dress, the shoes, the tiara.

“Cinderella?” he asks, before the conversation can become awkward and their audience can notice something else.

“Yes,” she says, unable to force the smile she’d used on his father just minutes before. “What girl doesn’t want to be a princess for Halloween?”

“Cinderella was always your favorite, wasn’t she?” Percy’s father asks him. Then he laughs. “Once we went to Disney in Paris, I think, and Percy, all of ten years old, cried because he didn’t think he was going to be able to meet her.”

Percy’s face stays blank. “I was six, Dad.”

Annabeth winces, internally. That was the year, he’d told her, that he’d spent in shoes that didn’t fit because his new ones had been destroyed by bullies taunting him over ballet, and he didn’t want to tell his mother because trying to buy him a second pair of shoes would have been a struggle. She wonders if maybe he was crying because he’d spent the day walking around Disneyland in shoes two sizes too small, and no one had noticed.

His father laughs again. “Still,” he says, “Cinderella is your favorite.”

“I don’t have much use for princesses anymore,” Percy says. “Fairy tales and true love are kid stuff.”

His uncles laugh along with his father, and Luke just frowns at Percy, like he’s not sure what to make of him. But his family seems convinced it's the wisdom of youth.

“Oh,” says Poseidon, “You never know when you can find someone special.” He does leer at Annabeth, just a bit. There isn’t a lot to leer at in this dress, but it's unmistakable. He’s very handsome, but the leer is perhaps the first time she’s thought he didn’t favor his son.

“Were you the one who dated the princess of what it was called?” Thalia’s father asks. “Or was Triton? Or was it both of you?”

“No,” Hazel and Nico’s father says, “no, they both dated Atlas’s girl. Right?”

“Yes, Uncle Hades,” Percy says.

“Zoe?”

Calypso, Annabeth thinks, just before Percy says it out loud and they all nod.

“Is she here?” Thalia’s father asks, glancing around. “Or do you have a different date tonight?”

Annabeth hasn’t even considered Percy having a date. But the idea of it causes a wave of nausea to come over her, of a beautiful woman on Percy’s arm, one of his fellow dancers, or perhaps some heiress, who he could take to fancy parties and show off to his father and uncles.

That could have so easily been you, says a voice in the back of her head.

I’m no one’s arm candy, she wants to yell at herself.

But she can’t, because she’s literally resting on Luke’s arm, while three powerful businessmen ogle her.

She breathes through her nose, and tries to keep from throwing up. Or crying.

“Percy knows its best to come to events like this stag,” Percy’s father winks at him, and then unmistakably at her, “you never know what sorts of lovely creatures you might run into.”

Percy frowns, clearly uncomfortable. “I think Miss Chase definitely came with her boyfriend.” He nods to Luke, and gives him a smile Annabeth has never seen. So forced and fake and clearly unhappy.

She wishes she could stop everything and scream at Percy that Luke’s not her boyfriend. That he could never be. That she does not want Luke, not the way she wants Percy.

But time goes on, and so does Percy. “I don’t like coming to these sorts of things alone, if I can help it.”

And the world nearly collapses out from under her feet.

“The buddy system is important.” He turns his head, clearly searching the milling crowd for someone. Annabeth doesn’t follow his gaze. She doesn’t want to see the woman he willingly shows off to his father. She glances at Luke instead. His face is still placid, but she’s known him a long time, in all sorts of states. He’s clearly uncomfortable.

“Thalia,” Percy’s voice says, not a shout, but a request. Annabeth doesn’t look over at him, or the direction he shouted, but Luke does. He breaks away from her gaze and actually unlinks their arms. His mask slips a little bit more.

At the last possible second Annabeth looks over too.

Thalia Grace looks exactly like the Thalia Annabeth has always known. Her hair is slicked down in some old fashioned pin curls, and she’s wearing a cocktail dress and red soled heels that are too big for her, but you can see the tattoos up and down her arms and legs, underneath her ripped fishnets. Her facial piercings are all still in, and her eyebrows and ears are full of safety pins and the necklace around her neck is made of them too. She’s wearing the same beat up leather gloves as always.

For just a second, Annabeth hates her. Because Thalia is clearly so Thalia, so comfortable in being Thalia, and she can walk around this fucking gala, with buisness bros and old money, and look totally comfortable and confident.

And Annabeth keeps adjusting her sleeves and hair, worried that somethings going to move wrong, and it's going to become obvious that she’s… something?

Then their eyes meet, and it's almost as bad as when Percy showed up. Thalia looks lost, and then she glances to Annabeth’s side, at Luke and her face settles into a frown not unlike Percy’s.

She stops beside Percy who smiles at her, “Thalia and I always use the buddy system.” He says. Then, as he holds out his hand to her, his smile becomes the closest she could ever refer to as cruel. “Thalia, have you met Annabeth Chase? Of the Boston Chases? Her uncle is Frey Vanir.”

Standing tall, bright eyes ringed in black, Thalia takes in all of Annabeth. She’s done this before, when Annabeth was drunk and crying on a dirty bar floor, with a couple hours old tattoo on her arm and a couple of days old ring in her eyebrow. Annabeth had seen her mother on Wednesday for lunch and had destroyed her life by dinner. She doesn’t really remember what they’d talked about, in the wee hours as Friday became Saturday: not being good enough for your family, how New York took your dreams, chewed them up, and spit them out, how your father would never understand you and your mother would never love you. That sort of thing.

She’d been a gross, pathetic mess. But Thalia had seen something in her that night. Had lifted her off the floor and out the door and eventually onto the mattress in the place she’d been renting weekly at the time. She’d taken Annabeth into her world.

Now, it doesn’t look like she sees anything good in Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases, in designer heels, with a designer bag, wrapped in a designer dress and dripping in jewels. Annabeth knows she looks like a dozen other girls at this event, girls that Luke’s (and maybe Thalia’s and, God, maybe even Percy’s) eyes have wandered over with interest.

“Miss Chase, despite being from Boston,” Percy says to Thalia, “was mentioning some of the schools she went to in New York. I thought maybe you might have known each other through one.”

Percy’s face has gone perfectly blank, but Thalia’s… Thalia’s is angry.

“No,” she says, “we did not go to school together. But Luke and I did.”

It’s Annabeth’s turn to gape, eyes wide as she turns to him, shocked.

Luke tries to smile. “Yes, we did, but--”

Thalia doesn’t let him finish. “Are you still sending weekly audition tapes to Lorne Michaels?” she asks, a snarl that only an idiot would mistake for a grin on her face.

Annabeth would laugh, if she felt like laughing at anything right now.

Luke tries to speak again, but Thalia talks right over him. “No, of course not. You’re doing some business thing.” She eyes his suit and then her three older relatives. “Why else would we be here? I know you never really had the brains for the arts. You were always more interested in the carnal passions of acting.”

Annabeth actually does laugh, just a bit, both because that’s clearly something Luke had once said (and Annabeth remembered him coming straight out of NYU, a Yankee transplant to Boston, she could totally believe it) and because Thalia got Luke’s cadence and tone down perfectly.

But it does nothing to relieve the tension. If anything, it's gone up.

Percy’s father forces his own laugh. “It is so much fun when you run into old friends like this.” He offers, clearly sensing the storm brewing. Percy has at least tried to force it down. “And it's good to see you, as well, Thalia. It's been a long time.”

“It has, Uncle Poseidon,” She agrees.

“Mr. Castellan has left the world of acting for our bland business and finance meetings, but are you still acting?”

Thalia goes very still.

Annabeth, in the two years she’s known Thalia Grace, has never even once heard her so much as allude to acting in anything. She set up equipment and tended bars for cash. The only acting she ever did was pretending not to be hungover.

It’s a slight movement, but she sees Thalia reach out and grip Percy’s arm. He meets it, holding on. Steadying.

He understands what’s going on here.

“She’s not,” Thalia’s father says. He’s been polite so far this evening, but now he sounds annoyed. “All that talent and all that promise, and she’s thrown it all away.” He looks at Thalia, electric eyes to electric eyes, and shakes his head. “You could have been just like your mother.”

Percy, Luke, and Hades all let out a sharp breath.

Thalia’s smile, sharp, turns acidic. “I can't be,” she says. “I don't drive. So I couldn't drive myself into a tree.”

Her father narrows his gaze, mouth tight. Annabeth has actually seen that look on Thalia’s face before. Poseidon looks suddenly very sorry he ever opened his mouth.

Thalia turns to Percy. “Do you think Hazel would mind if I committed a murder and ruined her big night?”

It's a very Thalia thing to say, but Annabeth has never really considered the theatricality of her before. This is an artist working her craft, taking words and turning them into daggers.

“Hazel loves performance art,” Percy says. “And it is on theme.”

Thalia nods and then looks at her father. She smiles. “That sounds like a lot of work, so, instead, why don’t I do just what you want. I’ll be my mother. I’ll go get fabulously drunk and embarrass you horribly. Unfortunately, this is a 21+ event, so I won’t be able to endanger any children in the process. But you never know.”

She spins on her heels, and walks away.

“I'm going to make sure she doesn’t enganger any children just to prove a point,” Percy says. “I'll see you later.” He nods to his family, and then offers Annabeth a very formal handshake. “So nice to meet you.”

She’s missed his hands on her. She doesn’t want to let go.

But she lets him, and he moves over to give Luke one, too. He leans in, just a little bit, and lowers his voice so only Luke and Annabeth can hear. “You shouldn’t make a scene in a public place. But you deserve to know, she’s been cheating on you since May.”

Annabeth can’t breathe for a moment. The perfect man, handsome and charming and crueler than she ever believed possible.

Her stomach rolls again.

Behind her, she hears Poseidon say, “Do you often tell women whose mothers’ acting career dried up and then descended into substance abuse that you hope they have the same career as said mothers? Because wow."

“I’m sorry,” Luke whispers. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m very sorry.”

He turns to speak with the three brothers, to formally and probably seamlessly untangle themselves from all of this, and she tries to turn too, but the effort to spin gets too much.

She’s still nauseous, feeling light-headed. The stiletto heels only add to the problem. She shakes and stumbles, right into Luke, who catches her on one arm, Poseidon on the other. Annabeth has to work very hard not to yank herself away from him.

“Are you alright?” Poseidon’s accent isn’t the same as Percy’s at all, his hands too smooth. There are differences between the two that she can focus on.

“I haven’t been feeling well tonight,” she admits, if it will get her out of here faster.

“Do you need to sit down?” Asks Poseidon. “I’m sure there is a medical professional around here.”

“No, no, thank you,” she says. “I should probably head out, If that’s okay,” she tells Luke, apologetically.

He nods, finally complying with her need for escape. “Of course.”

When Poseidon lets go of her arm, she basically falls into Luke. It's embarrassing. Her eighteen year old self is probably cheering. Unfortunately for her, that crush was killed two great heartbreaks ago. Now, it’s just quiet and awkward as they walk away. “Sorry,” she says.

“Sorry? I should be thanking you. That was a really good excuse.” Then he looks at her--really looks. “It wasn’t an excuse, was it?”

She shakes her head, miserable.

“Is it because of that guy? Percy? Do you know him?”

She nods.

“Why does he think you’ve been cheating on me since May?”

“Because he thinks you and I are a couple, and I’ve been sleeping with him since May.”

Luke lets out a low whistle. “You and those business bros.” He shakes his head. Sometimes he doesn’t quite have the self-awareness that he should, she thinks. “I blame myself. If I didn’t invite you to that MBA party, maybe you wouldn’t have lost your virginity to that asshole in my cohort.”

“Percy’s not a business bro,” she says, defending him, though for the life of her she doesn’t know why. “He’s a ballet dancer with NYCB. It… ended about 3 weeks ago. I’d tell you about it, but I do actually feel pretty horrible.”

Luke frowns at her. “You want me to get you a cab?”

Annabeth shakes her head. “I know you have more business bro things to do. I can get myself home.”

He waits several seconds, before giving her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, wishing her goodnight, leaving her in the middle of the mingling crowd and the crystal displays.

Annabeth shuffles towards the exit, passing the food table. Even the smell makes her feel like she’s going to throw up. Walking faster doesn’t exactly help.

Eventually, she manages to get out of the main gallery, where the lobby and coat check had been set up, very much regretting letting Luke go. Right now, walking outside and finding a cab might as well be like attempting a quick little jaunt up Mt. Everest. Head aching, stomach rolling, she slumps against the wall outside the coat check, laying her warm cheek against the cool wall.

That’s when she hears the muffled shouting.

Two voices she knows intimately.

“How can you say that?” Thalia whisper-screams. “In what possible universe are they the same?”

“How are they not?” Percy quietly shouts back. “They’re exactly the same.”

“I can’t even believe you’re defending her. She lied to us--she hurt you, just like--”

“Don’t you dare try and tell me you’re doing this for me. This is about you and your problems. Like always.”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit.” Then comes the telltale clacks of Thalia stomping about in her high heels. She flings open the door of the coat closet, and comes face to face with Annabeth--who probably looks about like death warmed over. Thalia takes one look at Annabeth, sneers, then stalks away, anger sparking off of her like static shock.

Hot on her heels comes Percy, equally furious. "Then find someone else’s couch to crash on tonight!" He shouts at her retreating form.

Then he sees Annabeth.

She hopes she never has to see him that angry ever again.

It takes a couple of pounding heartbeats, but he visibly dials it back down, rage giving way to something a little less intense, the bitterness bleeding out of him until he’s only just annoyed. “Oh,” he says. “It’s you.”

There’s a million and one things she wants to tell him; her mind is a hurricane, every thought and feeling moving at a hundred and fifty miles per hour, sentences forming on her tongue in one second and ripped away the next. She wants to tell him that she never meant to hurt him, but all that comes out is, “Luke isn’t my boyfriend.”

“What, he dump you already?”

“We’ve never dated,” she says. “He’s just a friend. I haven’t cheated on anyone.”

“Oh, so you’ll get all dolled up for some guy that isn’t your boyfriend, but you couldn’t be bothered to find a pair of jeans without holes in them to come see my show?”

Her stomach lurches, in both anger and regret. She did do those things. “You told me that you didn’t care what I wore.”

“And I didn’t, because I thought you didn’t either.”

“I don’t!”

“Oh yeah? Is that why you parted your hair on the wrong side? Because you didn’t care if someone would see your undercut?”

She can’t say anything to that, because of course, he had hit the nail on the head.

“I mean, Thalia may be messed up, but at least she has the guts not to hide it, but you--” he sputters, gesturing angrily to her head, “you put on a tiara and pretend you haven’t been gutter trash for the last two years.”

Indignation rises in her. Gutter trash? “You’re one to talk--you can’t go anywhere nicer than Antonio’s for dinner but you own a custom fucking Italian suit and diamond earrings?”

He scowls. “Oh, I'm sorry, just so we're clear, Kym got me this suit so I would stop, and I quote, 'embarrassing her with my poverty.' I borrowed the earrings from Nico. But you're right. The same Christmas I had my power and heat turned off in Paris, my dad got me these pearl cufflinks.” He raises his hands, brandishing them. “Just what I always wanted!”

“Don’t give me that--the man takes you, his bastard,” she spits, “on the family vacation to the Greek islands every goddamn summer! You think he wouldn’t drop a couple million for you if you asked? Meanwhile, I had to grovel at my mother’s feet for years for even the barest hint of support--”

“That is not even remotely the same thing, and you know it!”

“It isn’t?” She laughs, cruelly. “Because from where I’m standing, we were both left at the mercy of our shitty parents, but you’re too much of a coward to tell your father to fuck off when you really want to.”

That just about sets him off. His eyes darken like sea storms, raging and thunderous. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on me. You’re the one that lied to me for months, to Thalia for years--Jesus, Annabeth, was any of it real? Was everything you said to me over the last five months just some game to you?”

“How dare you,” she hisses. “How dare you even ask me that when you know full well you’re the only person I’ve shown my designs to in years.”

“Oh, really,” he says, and she goes cold. “What about the one that won the Eta Industries award? Did you not show that to anyone? Or did you get that one because they knew you were Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases.”

Clenching her fists, she growls, standing up against the wall. “Leo and I put our hearts and souls into that project, and we won, fair and fucking square. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, seeing as you probably only got into NYCB because someone cashed a seven figure check.”

She doesn’t know if she’s ever said anything she believes less.

Percy laughs, an ugly, bitter thing. “If it had been that easy, I would have asked him to do that five years ago.”

Then he frowns. “Are you… feeling okay?”

She is not, as a matter of fact, but it’s no longer his fucking business, now is it. Annabeth opens her mouth to tell him so, then abruptly closes it as a little bit of vomit erupts from her esophagus. She covers her mouth, pressing against her teeth, trying to will it back inside.

Warm hands encircle her shoulders, holding her up as her legs threaten to buckle beneath her. “Come on,” he says, gruffly.

Together, they stagger into the single-stall bathroom, when Annabeth rips himself from his grasp, dropping to her knees before the toilet, and hurls. Faintly, she hears the lock of the door click behind her, then jumps at the feel of his hand on her back. “Leave me alone,” she spits, hocking bile into the toilet.

He doesn’t answer, only gently repositions her braid behind her shoulder so she doesn’t get any vomit on it.

She will not admit that his hand on her body is the best she’s felt all day. She will not.

“Ugh,” she moans, in between bouts of bile. “Fuck me.”

“Jesus, what did you eat?”

Annabeth has barely eaten all day, so it’s mostly sparkling cider and a bit of the olive tapenade from earlier.

Finally, after several excruciating minutes, it subsides. She feels twenty pounds lighter, like she’s vomited up all of her organs. Now if only she could have barfed up her heart as well. She’s sure Percy can feel how hard it’s beating, just from being around him again.

When the hell did she let herself get this worked up over a fucking guy, anyway? She hasn’t felt like this since she was nineteen, moping over a missed connection. But she’s not nineteen anymore, she’s a grown woman who doesn’t need anyone taking care of her. She can handle it herself.

“Feeling better?” he asks.

She coughs, attempting to clear her throat, throwing him a glare over her shoulder. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving you alone like this.”

“I said,” she growls, fingers tightening around the bowl of the toilet. “Leave me al--” Her genius retort is, sadly, cut off by another bout of vomiting, so forceful that her tiara comes flying clean off. It would have landed straight into the bowl, were it not for Percy and his lightning reflexes, snatching it out of the air before the crown jewels of Sweden landed in a puddle of barf.

When she comes back to herself, she realizes that she’s crying.

The second wave passes, and she can breathe again. Her awareness returns to her in pieces, starting with the pinch in her knees from kneeling on the cold, hard floor for too long, then the cool porcelain of the toilet, oddly soothing against her flushed skin. Her mouth tastes like you’d expect, and she spits, trying to clear it in vain.

“That’s it,” Percy murmurs behind her, rubbing gentle circles on her back. “Just let it out.”

Her chest heaves on a sob, quickly disguising it as a cough. Why won’t this man just leave?

When another five or so minutes pass without any more upchuck, she pulls away from him, practically crawling back until she hits the bathroom wall, the floor pressing up against her bones, and she kicks off her heels. Everything is too cold and too hot, Annabeth practically shaking out of her skin, taking in huge, gulping gasps of air. Faintly, she hears the door open and close, softly and carefully.

Good. He’s gone.

Her whole body shudders. Stubborn tears force their way out of her, crawling down her cheeks, mixing with the taste of vomit and lipstick.

But she can’t wallow in it for too long, because a minute later, Percy comes back, crouching down next to her, offering her a plastic cup of water. “Here.”

She takes a swig, swishing it around her mouth. Staggering to her bare feet, she shambles over to the sink, spitting it out.

There’s no way Annabeth can avoid looking at herself too closely in the mirror, but she tries, her eyes skating over her smeared mascara and running foundation, taking in her (thankfully) vomit free braid and her bare head. “Where,” she coughs. “Where is my tiara?”

“I got it.” In the mirror’s reflection, Percy holds it up. “Wouldn’t want the crown jewels of England to wind up in the toilet.”

“Sweden,” she says, on reflex.

“What?”

Why can’t she just shut her stupid mouth, for God’s sake-- “They were part of the Swedish crown jewels.”

He stares at her in the reflection, his eyes unfathomable. “I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” She asks, a question to which she really doesn’t want to know the answer.

“How I keep letting this happen.” Percy closes his eyes, shaking his head, raising his chin to the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Like this, all the angles and contours of his stupidly beautiful face are thrown in sharp, brutal relief. He looks thin, somehow, the quiet sadness of his expression carved into the lines of his frown, of his squeezed shut eyes and the grim line of his lips. “I thought I was done with letting rich girls fuck me to make a point.”

Funny, how a simple sentence can feel like a knife in the stomach.

Percy, always so tall, slumps his shoulders, running a hand over his face. In seconds, the sadness is gone, replaced with a blank void of expression. “Will you let me call you a cab to take you home?” He asks, because of course, he’d never leave her alone like this. He’s too fucking good.

Annabeth nods into the mirror.

He sidles up to her, slinging her arm around his shoulder. In his other hand, he carries her shoes and her tiara, dangling limply from his fingers. For a wild second she wants to turn and kiss him. She’s wanted to do that for weeks. She wants to wipe the tears and vomit off her face, stick back on her tiara, and go back to the party on his arm. They could make a beautiful picture, she thinks, Poseidon Olympianides’ son and Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases. But when she tries to move, maybe to make a big mistake, she sways, unsteady. His grip on her waist tightens, holding her close, but his face is turned stubbornly out. He won’t even look at her.

The cool night air and the smell of city dirt is a welcome balm on her flushed face. In no time at all, Percy has hailed a cab, letting her hang off of him as she falls heavily onto the seat. With the utmost care and precision, he gently places her shoes and her crown on her lap, as controlled and careful as when he puts down a fellow dancer. There is no mistake here, she knows. Their little dance together is over. It feels like the end of one of those romantic movies from the 50s her dad used to love to cry over.

“Take her home, please,” he informs the cab driver, giving him her address, then without even sparing her a glance, he closes the door on her.

But greedy for one last look, Annabeth presses her face to the window as the driver pulls away from the curb. The night is dark and the streetlamps are unhelpful, but she can still see him as he cups his hands to his face, glowing like he holds a little star between his fingers, can see him tilt his head up and exhale, sending cigarette smoke up into the heavens.

#this one's a long boi folks #long and sad #but this is as bad as it gets! we've hit rock bottom!#it's all uphill from here i promise #pjo au #ballet au #percabeth #pjo fic #the rivalry ends here

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bookstantrash · 4 years ago

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A/N: I can’t believe I’m staying true to my word and posting it before the year is over. My self imposed deadline was met, yey me!!

A little heads up for those who read my stuff: January will be a tricky month for me — I still have one exam left — so I don’t know if I’ll be able to post. Then there’s the acosf release, and I plan to avoid being in social media (aka tumblr, twitter) until I’ve read it at least two times lol. I’ll try to write in any spare time that I have, but I’m sorry in advance.

Now, let’s end 2020 with style!! I hope you enjoy the new chapter and wish y’all a good 2021 💜

In which she makes a friend, Part Five

Nesta woke up to soft knocking on her door.

She groaned in her pillow, wanting nothing more than to go back sleep. She was not used to waking up so early — the sun had barely risen on the sky — and she’d had a poor night of sleep, her latest nightmare still too vivid in her mind.

Nesta had a lot of those. Nightmares. Before, it was of Mandray. Of being beneath him again. Of not being able to scape. After being kidnapped by Hybern, they were about Elain. Of failing time and time again to avoid her sister being thrown into that blasted Cauldron.

Once the war had come and gone, it got worse. She’d dream of Elain in that camp, chained near the Cauldron. Would dream of Feyre failing to rescue their sister. Would dream of both of them dying while Nesta was unable to protect them. Another failure that’d hunt her through all of her miserable immortal life.

And she’d dream of him. Of his wings being broken and his screams piercing her ears, her soul. Of Hybern killing him in front of her eyes while she was held down by the evil king’s power. And once she got free, once she blasted that bastard to nothingness, she’d find herself in world without him. A world where she lived with a big nothing inside her.

Last night, however, had been different. She had been dreaming of failing Elain and Feyre again when suddenly she heard a voice. His voice, talking in that melodic and enthralling language, his voice a soft caress that eased her troubles. But as soon as she felt herself calming down, Nesta felt him go away. And so she desperately asked for him to stay with her. At least in her dreams she’d be less proud and afraid to say what she wished to. What she wished she had said to him two months ago.

Don’t go. Stay.

And in her dream he stayed. It had been so realistic that Nesta swore she could still feel his warm calloused hand against her skin, smell his scent, his voice a lover’s caress in her ears and—

She got up from the bed quickly, shaking her head. No good would come from going down that path. She willed her heart to behave and stay quiet in the cage she had locked it into. Wall after wall being risen, being toughened. Sometimes, feeling nothing was better then feeling too much or even anything at all.

Nesta heard knocking again, and quickly discarded her nightgown for the Illyrian leathers. She had struck a promise to train with Kaelin before the girl’s morning training and Nesta hated to be late.

“I’m awake, you don’t have to tear down the door Kaelin” Nesta said, opening her door and almost hitting her face in a leather clad chest.

Cassian was the one knocking on her door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“Good morning to you too sweetheart” he gave her a teasing grin “Last that I checked, I live here”

“One would wonder if that is true, given your long absence” she replied, knowing she had hit her mark when she saw a muscle twitching on his jaw “Where’s Kaelin?”

“Training has been rescheduled. The younglings start earlier now so those preparing for the Blood Rite can have more time on the training areas” Cassian managed to say.

“I see” Nesta was thinking about going back to sleep when the male in front of her interrupted her thoughts.

“Would you care to have breakfast with me?”

She opened her mouth to dismiss him when she caught the look on his eyes. Not angry anymore at her earlier jab, but anxious. She had never seen Cassian so unsure before, so difficult to read. It was as if his feelings were all over the place.

“It wouldn’t hurt to eat with him” she thought, recalling her dream.

“You are cooking” Nesta declared, moving past him to the kitchen.

“As you wish, your Highness” he did a mocking bow and followed her.

Nesta eyed the tall male in front of her. He cooked with expertise and seemed completely comfortable in the ambient, humming while he mixed some eggs in the frying pan.

He was so... domestic. Nesta almost smiled imagining him with a silly apron, an image so at odds with his usual scary General appearance.

“I talked with Kaelin yesterday” Cassian said after some time.

“And?” Nesta asked, raising an eyebrow

“He’s been training with you. And I was wondering....” he placed the food in front of her, clearing his throat “I was wondering if I could train you. Both of you. Kaelin is not so advanced with his training and there’s also the matter of—”

“The matter of what” she snapped

“Your powers” he fidgeted with a knife, twirling it on his hand, not scared to cut off a finger by accident “I don’t know where you were with Amren in regards to them, but it’s also important to have them in sync with any self defence moves you can learn”

“My powers are none of your concern”

It was a lie. Her classes with Amren had just grazed the surface of what she knew she could do. But she was scared of them. Of what she could do. Her powers were a wild beast that was she forced to live with, a constant reminder of the life she lost.

She hated it.

However, Cassian was right. If she truly wanted to be capable of defending herself — of defending Kaelin were her secret to be discovered — she’d have to accept his help.

“We can train after breakfast” she nonchalantly said, stabbing a piece of the scrambled eggs on her plate “I’m already changed either way”

“Brilliant” Cassian smiled, his whole face seeming to lighten up like the sky after a storm “Prepare yourself to be challenged sweetheart. I’m not one to go easy on my students”

~•~

Cassian did not lie. He didn’t go easy on her. Her whole body ached and she almost regretted her choice to not stay in the cabin, rereading one of her books.

But she had places to go.

“You’re late”

“I’m not late Esmée” Nesta stated, grabbing an apron by the tent’ side and moving to one of the tables “I’m exactly on time”

“You’re thirty seconds late. That’s enough to lose the boiling point for a healing potion and make it a poison instead” Esmée, the chief healer of Windhaven huffed “If I say you’re late then you’re late.”

Nesta only dipped her head and started to work. Esmée might come out as a grump and mean female, but she was only serious about her work, a work which left her with no time for idle talk or sugarcoated pleasantries.

Nesta liked her just fine.

Kaelin had been the one to present her to the healers. Once her period was over and it was safe for her to leave the cabin without someone noticing the change in her scent, Kaelin had taken Nesta in a tour through Windhaven. Nesta did not know anything else except the area around Cassian’s cabin, which included a solitary trail to the forest and the outskirts of the village.

Kaelin appeared to know everyone they passed by. The younglings — who were yet too young to train — happily waved at her when they passed, as did some females who were working. On the other hand, it was different with the males. They eyed Kaelin with distaste and something akin to betrayal in their eyes. Nesta had yet to ask Kaelin why. Was it because she was walking with Nesta, an outsider who not only was High Fae but also the sister in law of their High Lord? She had tucked the information inside herself, analysing everything and everyone they met.

And it was when they were nearing the end of the tour that they had come upon the healers tent. Nesta recalled helping them in the war, bringing buckets of water, doing bandages for the wounded and holding the most serious ones down while they were patched up. She had felt like she had a purpose back then. Like she was not a burden.

She tried not think how it also helped her take her mind off the fearless Illyrian who leaded the troops, leaving only dead bodies with whoever met his blade.

Esmée had remembered her, as did some of the other females that worked alongside her. They had not eyed Nesta with pity or distaste, something she was used to in Velaris. No, they simply gave her a nod of recognition and went back to work, mixing herbs, cutting straps of bandages and tending to patients.

“Are you going to help or will you stay all day there?” Esmée had snapped “If you want to, grab an apron and come here. We need more jambu to be ground so that fella over there can stop whining”

Kaelin had come still beside Nesta, fearing she had been insulted by the healers harsh words. But she simply grabbed an apron and rolled her dress’ sleeves.

“Which one is jambu?”

And from that day onwards Nesta began to help the healers in any way she could, going after her training with Kaelin in the morning and coming back in the late afternoon. Kaelin always walked her back, stopping at the tent after her training.

“It’s not safe for females to wander alone” the young girl had informed Nesta “Specially when it starts to get dark”

Nesta knew better than to dismiss Kaelin’s words. She knew what males were capable of doing to those they thought inferior to them.

“Charming as ever, don’t you agree?” Jacira said, appearing beside Nesta.

“Lovely” she mumbled back, the corners of her lips almost raising in a smile.

Jacira was one of the least shy healers around Nesta. She had beautiful dark green eyes, which contrasted with her dark raven hair and dark brown skin. She also had a very sharp and curious mind, and was teaching Nesta all she knew about what being a healer was like.

Nesta liked to think she had found another friend in Jacira.

“I see the General has come back”

“Really? I didn’t notice” Nesta replied, busying herself with her task.

“He had been gone longer than usual this time for the inspection” Jacira whispered “Word says it’s because some serious trouble has risen in other camps, specially Ironcrest”

Jacira was also a shameless gossiper. In the two weeks Nesta had started to work with her, she knew practically everything about anyone that lived in Windhaven. She said to herself that no harm would come to listen to Jacira’s blabbering. She was simply gathering information as to not stay in the dark.

It was not gossip. It was only intelligence material about the Illyrians in Windhaven.

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” Cassian had not spoken a word about it with her.

“I don’t know. I only know that the camp lords are whispering between them, and seem to be anxious about the Blood Rite.” she got closer to Nesta “In my opinion, they want it to arrive fast so any feuds can be resolved there”

For the Blood Rite was not only the chance for the Illyrians to prove their worth as a warrior, but a bloodbath. An event that allowed matters to be resolved without the laws of the war camps binding them.

“More work and less talk ladies” Esmée hissed at them “Those tonics won’t be done by themselves”

“Yes, m’am” Jacira replied, batting her eyelashes innocently, making Nesta snort. That girl had no fear of danger.

They kept to their work, Jacira talking when she thought Esmée was not looking, Nesta saying something now and then. The time she spent among the healers was precious to her. It brought a sense of normality back to her life. Even the wild beast inside her gave her a time out, seeming to purr whenever she dedicated herself to chopping herbs and making tonics or healing potions, the scent of all the ingredients calming her.

But the thought that something was amiss among the Illyrians bothered her. It was something that stayed on her mind all day.

Nesta was quieter than usual at dinner — she caught Cassian glancing worriedly at her when he thought she was not looking — the gears inside her head turning and going through every possible outcome.

She went to sleep still thinking about it, and came to a conclusion.

Something bad was coming.

And she would get Cassian to tell her whatever it was.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030 @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13

{Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list}

#sarah j maas #sjmass #sjm fandom #sjm fanfic #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian x nesta #nessian

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levihantrash · 4 years ago

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new chapter update!

Summary:

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

Levi Ackerman, a gruff cleaner with an appetite for toilet humour meets the unabashedly friendly creative writing professor, Hange Zoë, who somehow ropes Levi into working on a comic with them. While the comic’s title remains undecided, Hange knows that it’s going to be set in a world where giant, human-like creatures devour other humans. Erwin Smith, the comic’s self-appointed editor, unironically thinks it’s going to be a hit. All Levi knows is that he wants to indulge in drawing this comic while hanging out with a certain writer who just won’t stop talking to him.

Where Hange, Levi, and Erwin are the creators of Attack on Titan.

Chapter 1: Free Bread

Chapter 2: New Friends

Like routine, Levi found himself waiting for a certain professor to show up. When Erwin called out to him, he couldn’t help but search behind the tall, imposing figure.

“I haven’t seen Hange this morning either,” Erwin said. Levi found himself irritated by Erwin’s discernment and by his own discrete uneasiness.

“Good morning, Erwin,” Levi greeted, nonetheless.

Hange was late, which Levi figured wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

The morning passed without a single sign of Hange.

“Sorry, are you Mr. Levi?” A nervous-looking person approached him, holding on to a well-wrapped steamed bun. A twinge of hope stirred in Levi.

“Levi will do,” he said.

“Dr. Hange said I should pass you this,” the bread-holder blurted out.

Levi’s gaze softened. “Where’s Hange?”

“Oh! She’s rushing a deadline and insisted that I pass you this bread.”

The inexplicable rush of relief made Levi dizzy as he grasped the bread limply. “Huh. Sorry that you have to be an errand boy today.”

“It’s no trouble!”

“Who are you?”

“Sorry! I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Moblit, their teaching assistant! Dr. Hange helps me out with my master’s thesis because they’re my advisor. This is just my way of saying thanks. Dr. Hange also treats me to meals, gives me detailed comments for my work… though they might go overboard when it comes to giving speeches about the importance of world-building and honing your craft, it’s inspiring how dedicated they are in what they do.”

Moblit took a deep breath, making up for lost air in between the lengthy, whole-hearted sentences.

“Is that so…” Levi said, suddenly contemplative. “Do you want some tea?”

“Are you getting it from the staff pantry?”

“No, that stuff’s stale as shit. I have better tea, wait here.”

Levi recalled Erwin asking him in front of everyone in the staffroom if he wanted the staffroom snacks. Hange followed up, speaking at a volume that was clear enough for most of the staff to overhear, orchestrating a deliberate conversation with Erwin.

“Since there are no hard rules as to who the snacks and drinks are catered for, and technically, Levi is a staff member, he should have access to the snacks!”

None of the professors objected. It was probably because open prejudice would be socially unacceptable, Levi thought.

Begrudgingly, he accepted Erwin’s offer, and in full view of everyone, took a candy bar.

Hange gasped. “Just one?” Levi glared at them.

“Aren’t the snacks for your little sister?” Hange asked. He nodded, sensing the collective spike in sympathy for him in the staffroom.

After the whole stage, the trio huddled conspicuously in a corner outside the staffroom.

Hange whispered to Levi, “You could have played along better!”

“Erwin’s tired of your skit,” Levi said, overwhelmed and annoyed at the turn of events.

“No he’s not!” Hange said sternly, before gulping down half a bottle of water.

Erwin, standing in between them, told Hange to keep it down.

“Thanks, you two.” Levi found himself staring at the floor, embarrassed that his two friends had to construe him as a pitiful character for him to get a few snacks, even though he had been informed of the plan prior.

“I’m sorry, Levi,” Hange said, their lips compressed into a hard, grim line. “It’s ridiculous that you can’t even get snacks and refreshments as part of the staff.”

“I’m used to it.”

“If anyone’s giving you a hard time, you have us,” Hange said, still put off.

They squared their shoulders impressively. “Right Erwin?”

“You can rely on us, Levi,” Erwin surmised, equally sombre.

Growing more ruffled by their declarations, Levi hissed, “I don’t need two bodyguards.”

“No, you definitely don’t,” Hange joked. “Some people have told me about the deathly aura you emit that I must have missed…”

Fixing their attention at a vague distance, Hange’s playful jibes dwindled into an idle pondering, “I wonder if you found some joy in our companionship at least.”

They’re talking about joy and friendship again… Levi thought.

He found himself back in the present, handing a cup of black tea to Moblit, guiding him towards a bench.

Moblit squeaked out, “Thank you!”

“How did you find me?” Levi asked, betraying none of his real curiosity.

“Hange gave me a description…” Moblit began, not making eye contact with Levi.

“Did they? What’s the description?” Knowing Hange’s brand of humour, Levi braced himself.

Moblit shuffled in his seat, terribly reluctant. “They said to look out for a cold, black-haired man with an undercut, wearing an apron, gloves and brandishing a mop while scolding people to not step on wet floors.” Levi made a mental note to strangle Hange.

Moblit quickly supplemented, “You’re not actually cold though!”

“How would you know that?”

“Um… you’re offering me tea?”

Levi clicked his tongue. “That’s a low bar for human decency. You should have higher standards.”

“You’re right, Mr. Levi… I mean Levi.”

Levi noted Moblit’s jittery manner when he briefly checked his phone for a message and let out a small groan.

“Hey, you look worried sick. You didn’t receive a death threat, did you?”

Moblit laughed weakly, running his hand through his hair. “Uh, you see, I’m one of the editors for the bi-annual literary magazine and we’ve been looking for illustrators…”

“I take it that you haven’t been successful?”

“Yes… I just received someone’s rejection. It’s okay, we’ll find one,” Moblit said, although his panicked lip-biting ran contradictory to his optimistic statement. Levi’s hands twitched again. He folded them promptly into his apron pockets.

Upon finishing the tea, Moblit stood up and gave a tiny, polite bow. “It was nice meeting you Levi. Thanks for listening and for the tea!”

“Good luck,” Levi said, in time before Moblit rushed off.

Bagging up the rubbish, Levi heaved the load on his shoulder easily, only to be startled by the appearance of Hange.

“Fuck! Can you stop jumping out of nowhere?” Though momentarily disconcerted, the tension built up from the day unwound instantaneously, leaving his body loose and feeble.

“Levi! Did you shit yourself?” Hange sang. They accidentally bumped into the gigantic rubbish bag, falling butt-first onto the ground, phone in hand.

“Be careful,” Levi said, in the same monotonous voice he used regardless of the situation. Unless the situation involved Hange leaping out of nowhere. He looped his free arm under their armpit to pull them back up. Hange, flushed from running, placed their phone in his hands with ill-contained excitement.

“Look at what I found!”

“Oi, what’s this—” Levi scanned the phone, his mouth running dry.

“I’m going to recruit this artist. For my comic.”

It was a sketch of a cat being patted by a person with messy, tied-up hair, their hands stroking its head.

“Don’t you think the person looks familiar? Isn’t the cat cute… remember how I told you I have one at home?” Hange released their brown hair from a voluminous ponytail, biting the rubber band in their mouth.

He swallowed. “I drew that.”

Hange’s mouth hung open. “You’re kidding!”

“Do I look like I make such shit jokes?”

“Personally, I find your shitty jokes very funny. This is exciting news! Why didn’t you tell me you’re an artist when I was trying to find one for my comic?”

Levi found her question preposterous. “You could easily find a better one. I’m inexperienced.”

“I’m also an inexperienced writer. I barely wrote one book and a few articles!”

“You’re a professor. You have the title for a reason. I just draw for fun.”

Hange spared him a baffled look. “Please. You have no idea how many great writers never become professors. And how some professors never write great books. I thought you of all people would know that a title doesn’t mean anything.”

“I thought you of all people would know that titles hold their value here, even if we think they’re stupid and don’t mean shit.”

“I know that, Levi. I’m saying, drawing for fun doesn’t make you inexperienced or unworthy of being the artist for my comic. Besides, I chose you before I even knew it was you!” Hange said triumphantly.

Locking the phone screen, Levi reiterated, “I draw for fun.”

“Then this will be our fun project!”

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

“You won’t be broke.” Erwin slipped into their conversation as though he had always been there. It was uncanny.

“What do you mean?” Levi stared questioningly at Erwin.

“You’ll be paid for your work, Levi. Hange as well,” Erwin said simply.

“You’re paying us?” Hange and Levi asked, in unison. One, in disbelief, and the other, in delight.

“A publisher will be paying you. I’ve secured funding.”

Levi gritted his teeth. “A publisher wants to sponsor a comic that hasn’t even been written?”

“I told you, Levi,” Hange interrupted. “I’ve already submitted a draft!”

“Yes,” Erwin said.

Levi had so many questions. “How?”

“Because it’s a good story.”

“Did you bribe them? Threaten them?”

“It is a risk,” Erwin admitted.

“It’s a fucking gamble,” Levi emphasised. “Don’t know why you’re so invested in this comic.”

Hange had other worries. “Levi, did you think I wasn’t going to pay you?”

Levi hesitated. “I don’t know. Isn’t this just a fun side-project?”

Hange’s face came closer to his. With the enhanced proximity, Levi stopped breathing altogether. Their face was deadly solemn.

“Listen, Levi, creating art is hard work. Your hard work. Any artist deserves to be paid. It’s not because our relationship is transactional. It’s because it’s only right.”

Erwin added, “We’re not going to accept your art for free.”

Pushing Hange back firmly with his hands on their shoulders, Levi argued, “Plenty of people have access to my art online for free.”

“That’s your choice. We insist.” Hange grinned. “And we think we deserve to be paid too. Even I’m surprised that my project has early compensation.”

Part of Levi’s resolve ebbed away. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me!”

“First, you have to tell me what your story is.” Levi gathered up the last of his self-respect. “And if we’re going to be working together, I’ll need your number.”

Erwin raised an innocent eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you need mine too?”

“Stop teasing him, Erwin,” Hange said, grabbing the rubbish bag from Levi, struggling to balance its weight over their shoulders.

Just as Levi felt a shred of gratitude, Hange remarked, “What if he doesn’t agree to do the comic together?”

Patience running thin, Levi stomped on both their feet in a fit of unrestraint that diverged from his unaffected demeanour.

Eyes twinkling, Hange couldn’t help but feel immense glee at the prospect of working with Levi. What was probably Levi’s withheld strength made them certain that he only wanted to dirty their shoes, not bruise their toes. Like Hange would care about the cleanliness of their battered sneakers.

In front of an ordinary apartment door, Hange dug into the depths of their bag to fish out a ring of keys. The size of the ring was unprecedentedly big; the choice of keychain most definitely random, a freebie handed out to new staff that blatantly displayed the university’s name.

Without that much bribery of tea, bread, and friendship, Levi found himself standing beside Hange as they busied themselves in finding the key to their apartment. Erwin had bailed due to having another Important Meeting with Important People, even during a weekend, but encouraged Hange and Levi to take time to discuss the comic.

Hange hadn’t expected Levi to agree so readily to kickstarting the project, and with the generous reception Levi gave (a curt nod and a follow-up question), they thought it’d be best if they invited him over to their apartment. Just so he wouldn’t mistake Hange as a mere business partner. Now that would be upsetting.

Hange pushed the ludicrous speculation out of their head. Levi was first and foremost, a good friend. His bored appearance revealed glimpses of surprise, satisfaction, moodiness, and suspicion. Hange held on to these pieces with the determination to collect them all. Surely, Levi must have figured them out by now. This endless, unabashed interest Hange had taken in him.

“Why are we meeting at your place? Do you need to take a huge shit? Does the toilet at home have a better flush?”

Although Levi had no qualms about visiting Hange’s apartment, he found it unnerving to have a work discussion in someone’s living quarters. It felt too intimate, too casual. He wasn’t sure if he could handle being sucked in further into Hange’s life. They asked so many questions, yet barely answered any about themselves.

Whether intentionally or not, Hange was someone shrouded in mystery to Levi. He couldn’t ask questions either—he wouldn’t—because he was unaccustomed to expressing himself in front of people. More than that, he could envision Hange’s sharp wit poking a clean hole through his muted facade. “You’re interested in my life, Levi?” Damn that four-eyes for being so perceptive. Or was he so easy to read?

“It’s more fun,” Hange said, eventually stuffing the correct key into the keyhole, a smooth click welcoming them. “Plus, I want to introduce you to my friends! Part of the reason why I took up the position at this university.”

“Friends?” Levi asked, slipping out of his shoes to step into the apartment.

“Hange!” A voice rang, and Hange was wrapped in a hug.

“Onyankopon! I saw you yesterday—”

“Three days ago, to be exact, since you always sleep over on the lovely desk at the university.” A smooth voice entered, coming from a woman standing comfortably against the wall.

As the tallest body let go of Hange, it allowed Levi to take in the congenial features of a man whose shoulders rivalled Erwin’s towering, well-built stature. While Erwin’s smile was measuredly cordial, Onyankopon’s was candidly sincere. Watching Hange and Onyankopon, Levi felt as though he were intruding into a family reunion that had invited the entire neighbourhood. Here, he was the guest who came for the free flow of food and drinks.

“I’ve missed you too Pieck!” The woman named Pieck ruffled Hange’s hair, offering them an embrace.

Hange pulled Levi by the elbow, pointing to the new people. “Meet my roommates and college friends, Onyankopon and Pieck!”

“Hi,” Levi said, uncertain as to what else he could affix his terse greeting with. Hange resolved that predicament for him, going into further details about their friends.

“Onyankopon is a researcher and engineer! I can’t tell you the technical specifics of what he does, though, I always get them wrong. Oh, and he’s religious, but he won’t try to convert you.” Onyankopon nodded, affirming Hange’s unflattering introduction.

“Pieck… Pieck is a gardener, florist, and avid gamer! That’s why she’s always bent over, whether it’s tending to her plants or her high score in front of the monitor.”

“It’s not why I need the crutches though,” Pieck said. Hange squeezed her shoulders in response.

“Seems like my friends are all nerdy. Maybe that’s why I like them?” A sheepish smile graced Hange’s lips.

Onyankopon gestured towards Hange, imitating their dramatic flourish. “And this is Hange Zoe, the nerdiest of them all. Obsessed with words. Recently obsessed with science fiction. They’re always reading or writing, and once they start on something, their butt doesn’t leave the chair.”

Levi’s eyes flitted around the apartment—it was relatively tidy, with a couple of framed photos and artworks. A blanket on the couch made it homely enough. His inspection didn’t miss Hange’s notice.

“Like what you see?”

“It’s neat,” he replied.

“That’s a compliment!” Hange took care to disclose this to their two friends.

“All your previous partners don’t take off their shoes, Hange. I hope he isn’t one of those.” Pieck said, using their crutch to relocate Hange’s haphazard shoes to a corner, flipping them the right side up. Levi liked her already.

“That’s gross,” Levi said apathetically, wiping away the horrifying image of dirt-smeared carpets and tiles creeping into his consciousness.

“He’s very clean, don’t worry,” Hange said easily. “Some might even say it’s his obsession.”

“I’m the cleaner at the university.” Onyankopon and Pieck turned towards Hange with patented disapproval.

“Levi, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“I think we’ll make good friends,” Pieck said, bemused.

Hange beamed at Levi. “You’ll love Pieck! She’s really quiet most of the time, just like you. Not to mention she pretends that she hates me. Just like you.”

“Good to know,” Levi said, enjoying the banter a bit too much.

“Hange says she’s going to get you to draw me, as a titan,” Pieck said, evidently sceptical.

“What’s a titan?”

“The giant, naked people I told you about, Levi! They’re called titans!”

“Why are they called titans?”

Hange landed on the sofa with a plop, patting the seat beside them for Levi to sit. “In Greek mythology, titans are immortal giant gods who were banished to the underground.”

Levi, who had little knowledge of Greek mythology, made a mental note to search for references online.

“Therefore, the titans are kind of like vengeful giant gods from the underground who have come to earth to wreak havoc on what the gods have built, which is human civilisation, basically.”

“Basically, I am wonderful enough to be titan-material,” Pieck drawled, propping their crutch at the side of the couch, sliding onto the cushions.

“A special titan that walks on all fours! Um, that’s the plan for now,” Hange said brightly.

Onyankopon, who had been content with listening, clapped his hands together in sudden realisation. “Hange, now that you’re finally home, you can take a shower.”

“I should, right?” Hange scratched their head, feeling the slickness of unwashed neglect.

Levi crinkled his nose as Hange reluctantly made their way to the bathroom. “That’s disgusting.”

“And here you are, still.” Pieck’s amiable statement prickled at his skin like a light warning before impending exposure.

“Hange must really want to make a good impression if they’re showering now,” Onyankopon said, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good to finally meet you.” Onyankopon pushed a newly made cup of tea towards Levi, with the steady confidence that could only come from having known prior that it was the beverage that Levi would desire. “Make yourself at home.”

Levi said his thanks, to the hospitality of two people he scarcely knew, and to Hange, who likely told them about the tea.

Cold water blasted them in the face, as Hange became cognizant of the necessity of showering more regularly. It wasn’t like they thrived in the dirt. Hypothetically, showering wasn’t that troublesome. The shower kept forgetting itself until it was three days later and Hange stank with regret and mild self-loathing. Still, the shower felt good, giving them new clarity about the fact that they had invited Levi into their inner social circle. How would he fare? Would he be uncomfortable? Hange massaged shampoo into their hair, recalling their conversation with Pieck and Onyankopon.

After much elaboration on adapting to a new university, their visits to an amazing bakery, and the fostering of daily encounters with new friends, Pieck had caught on that every other sentence from Hange contained a sliver of Levi-sized anecdotes. The new university was so much bigger than the one Pieck, Onyankopon, and Hange had attended together; it stretched endlessly, and Hange estimated that Levi would have walked 393700.7874 steps to clean just the faculty building. The bakery near the university was fragrant, its selection marvellous, and choosing a new bread for Levi every day was a tremendously delightful task. Moreover, Hange had met so many unique characters since getting to know the people in their faculty, people like Levi whose abhorrence for social etiquette was admirable, and with whom she was eager to share their mornings and lunches. Together with Erwin, of course.

Pieck let out a tinkle of a laugh at Hange’s obliviousness. “Why are you friends with Levi?”

Thinking hard, Hange answered, “I don’t know if he thinks of us as friends.”

“Well, friendship status aside, how’s he like?”

“He’s kind. He doesn’t sound like it, but he’s kind.”

“That’s nice. How’s he kind?”

Confusion coloured Hange’s usual confidence. “Hmm. It’s gut-feeling, I guess.”

“That’s unlike you, to rely solely on instincts,” Onyankopon said, stroking his chin. Hange was a person with an abundance of rationale, a reason for everything, with justification for any ideas. Their reasoning this time fell flat.

Pieck prodded on. “You said that he doesn’t sound kind. Then what does he sound like?”

“Grumpy, sarcastic, serious. He looks like he’s annoyed with everyone. Most people find him scary, I suppose? It’s like he wants people to think he’s an asshole.”

Pieck perked up. “Oh, so you’ve become enamoured with broody, misunderstood people who’re rough around the edges?”

“Pieck, come on, I’m not writing my own romantic trope! I don’t know… he’s a good person. I can tell. He doesn’t say much though.”

“You’re a mind-reader now?”

Hange ignored her. “His art… it’s so evocative. Melancholic. Hopeful. Angry.”

“What was the artwork you last saw of his?”

“A cat,” Hange said immediately.

Onyankopon brought Hange back to reality. “What about him? What do you like about him? Not his art.”

Hange pursed their lips. “Do good people need to prove themselves to show that they’re good?”

“There could be reasons as to why you’re so adamant about his golden character,” Onyankopon said.

“He’s reliable. And his shit jokes aren’t so bad once you get used to it.” Hange surprised themselves with that comment—Levi’s relentless toilet humour was infecting their brain. The corrosive force of the word “shitty” had already moulded itself permanently into their vocabulary.

Gazing up at the ceiling, Hange bent their arms behind their head. “It’s hard to find people to truly get along with.”

Onyankopon and Pieck shared a knowing look.

With their eyes trained to the white ceiling plaster, Hange mumbled on, “it would be nice if he’d talk more openly about what he’s feeling. It’s all guesswork and I’m afraid I’m constantly reading him wrong.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice…” Onyankopon said gently.

“But I do talk about my feelings!”

“Monologuing in your room and reposting vague lines of poetry and sending us memes to cope with your avoidance is not the same as talking about your feelings,” Pieck said, spending the subsequently long moment of silence to snip off a yellowed leaf from the potted Monstera deliciosa next to the kitchen counter.

“Wow.” Hange, for once, had nothing to muster.

Onyankopon’s approach was less incisive than Pieck’s. “You know, I don’t think you need a reason to be friends with someone. If he’s making you happy, I think it’s a good sign.”

“Thanks, Onyankopon,” Hange said gratefully.

“But Pieck’s right about you being deliberately evasive with your own emotions. Introspection shouldn’t be so strenuous, right? Don’t you write about your characters’ internal turmoil often?”

“It’s different when you’re reflecting for yourself,” Hange contended.

“We’ll see how Levi’s like anyway, when we meet him,” Pieck said, grabbing the scissors, going towards another deadened leaf.

“Don’t bully him!”

Another snip. Another leaf fell. “Isn’t he supposed to be scary?”

Hange smiled wryly. “But you two are scarier.”

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years ago

Text

Sitting Front Row at...(On a Budget Obvs): Lookbook no.15

Hey to anyone reading!

And welcome to my fave lookbook I’ve done in a longggg ass time! Yes, that’s partially because it involved making collages and doing the low effort work of scouring Vogue Runway for “research purposes”, but I promise, that statement wasn’t made out of COMPLETE laziness-I am super happy with it too. It’s been a good use of pre-part-lockdown-lift time in the interim between that brief period of Christmas celebrations and eateries finally fucking opening again because let’s be honest, I always knew I was gonna get distracted by oat milk vanilla lattes and veggie all day breakfasts once I could actually sit down with them at my fave local cafe. You could say I was very much operating on a self-imposed deadline.

The “what I would wear to sit front row at...[insert designer here]” TikTok/Instagram reel trend was something I wanted to get on board with ever since I first saw one and whilst the option of doing my own live action take-I really cannot bear the thought of having to edit footage of myself awkwardly attempting to sit nonchalantly in front of a camera for hours on end-was off the cards considering my complete lack of screen presence, I decided a Tumblr text post would work just as well, and if not even better in a way. Given the absence of the time limitations you face when you’re making a reel or a TikTok I thought it’d be cool to present the looks as part of a mini moodboard for each designer which adds a bit of context to each look even if you aren’t familiar with their past collections and establishes the general vibe of the brand I’m attempting to replicate. Not to sound snotty or as if I am the font of all knowledge on anything high fashion related but even with my amateur knowledge I noticed that as the video trend took off and was adopted by big name influencers, it became less about the average person putting their own personal spin on the aesthetic of the labels we can’t ordinarily afford and more about them building outfits that only vaguely resemble the general public perception of the brand around the real corresponding (and often gifted and thus inaccessible to someone who doesn’t makes thousands for a sponsored post) pieces they own SO I thought I’d take the trend back to its roots and get a bit resourceful. All that being said, in no particular order, here are the outfits I would wear to sit front row at Gucci, Vera Wang, Miu-Miu, Marc Jacobs, Dolce & Gabbana, Brock Collection, Alexander McQueen, Etro, Burberry aaaand Saint Laurent based on their past collections and guess what? They didn’t cost a shit tonne of money :-)

-disclaimer: will include an asterisk before any new purchases if from a high street store though to be honest, I don’t think there are any, we shall see! I do include where I got old purchases from in case anyone wants to search anything on Depop/Ebay-

1. Saint Laurent (formerly Yves Saint Laurent)

-blazer from identityparty on Depop, pleather trousers from Zara, jewellery from Dolls Kill-

I know technically abbreviating Saint Laurent to YSL doesn’t really make much sense anymore given the brand’s name change in 2012, but I’ll always think of it as that in the same way I’ll always associate it with the slightly dishevelled yet simultaneously glitzy rock n’ roll aesthetic. The thing is, whilst YSL hasn’t done anything wildly out of the box for a long time, it’s rare they put a look on the runway that I wouldn’t wear; they never end up being a fashion week standout but the Parisienne take on grunge we’ve seen Anthony Vaccarello establish as his go-to will always have a place in my heart.

2. Alexander McQueen

-embroidered leather jacket from Ebay (originally Topshop), harness from Amazon, dress from ASOS, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

Alexander McQueen is a brand that is pretty much universally liked, from the historically extravagant and groundbreaking shows the man himself put together to Sarah Burton’s more toned down but still beautiful collections. Obviously I didn’t attempt to do justice to the former, so I tried my hand at putting together a look inspired by Sarah’s blend of delicate femininity and nomadic edge, and it went...okay? Like it’s definitely not my favourite of all the looks because it does give off slightly cheap copycat vibes buuut outside of the context of this lookbook it’s cute.

3. Brock Collection

-boater hat from Ebay, midi skirt from morganogle on Depop, corset top from ownmode_, heels from amybeckett1, bag from Primark-

Brock isn’t as well known a brand as most of the others in this list but I adore everything Laura Vassar Brock does and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to try and channel the vision of one of the OG pioneers of the cottagecore vibe through my own wardrobe. I mean fr, this woman’s work as a steady provider of meadow photoshoot worthy dresses and corsets and skirts is v slept on and I will not stand for it. I will sit in front of a camera and then write a paragraph in my blog post begging anybody who reads to give LVB (an abbreviation I acknowledge is unlikely to catch on because Lisa Vanderpump anybody?) some form of acknowledgement for her services to period romance novel inspired moodboards everywhere.

4. Marc Jacobs

-coat from House of Sunny, white shirt from Retro World Camden, co-ord from Sugar Thrillz, bag from Poppy Lissiman-

If there’s one thing Marc Jacobs always does, it’s COMMITS. TO. HIS. THEME. I just KNOW he has a secret Pinterest with separate boards for every fashion era of the 20th century and he is putting those boards to good use providing us with collections that are as immersive as they are eclectic year in year out.

5. Miu Miu

-beret from H&M, hair clips from H&M, jewellery from Primark, coat from mollyyemmaa on Depop, shirt from YesStyle, sweater vest from YesStyle, skirt from Depop, diamanté belt from Brandy Melville, shoes from Koi Vegan Footwear-

We all like to talk about Bratz dolls and Monster High dolls and Barbies as fashion inspo but can we all focus on Cabbage Patch dolls for two secs so as to acknowledge the fact that a Miu Miu collection is basically all their fits grown up? And made boujie as fuck? If I want my fix of Wes Anderson meets Scream Queens (what a combo) inspired outfits, if I want prissy and girlish but also glam, if I want to look like a bratty rich girl whose one redeeming quality is her eye for vintage clothes, I know where to look and that is the Miu Miu section of Vogue Runway.

6. Vera Wang

-blazer as in no.1, velvet bralet from catdegaris on Depop, harness from Amazon, skirt from Ebay, knee high socks from Ebay, lace up boots from Ebay-

Vera Wang’s RTW aesthetic, a blend of the ethereal, ultra-feminine bridal designs she’s known for and British style punk rock influences, is something I feel has only become firmly established in recent years but it is everything I ever wanted and more. I always find myself trying to balance the part of me that loves everything girly and delicate and pretty and the part of me that would love to be in a biker gang and Vera’s collections are always an inspirational reminder of just how well it can be done.

7. Burberry

-coat from charity shop, suit from emmafisher3 on Depop, top from simranindia, shirt underneath from Zara, jewellery from ASOS-

Now I’m not gonna lie, I’m not the biggest fan of Burberry but there have been a few looks over the past few years I’ve really liked and as someone who owns numerous trench coats, high necks and way too much plaid, I thought it’d be an easy one to replicate. Plus, if you can count on Riccardo Tisci for nothing else you at least can rely on him giving you some layering inspo which is very much needed in a country where it literally just snowed in April and where my plans for today have just been cancelled because the iPhone weather app did a Karen Smith and didn’t predict rain for today right up until it started raining so thanks for that one British meteorologists. Your incompetence strikes again.

8. Etro

-corset from Urban Outfitters, vinyl trench coat from Topshop, boots from Ebay, black slip dress from kaoanaoleinik on Depop, fur trim afghan coat from louisemarcella-

Like with Brock Collection, Etro isn’t a hugely well known brand, but it is always one of my favourites-to add a spanner into the works of any attempts to cultivate a firm sense of personal style, I live for the ornate Bohemian look that Etro does so well just as much as I love both grungy and girly pieces, and so I really wanted to include a brand whose collections go down that route. It was a toss-up between this and Zimmerman, the flirtier, free spirit counterpart to the dark romance of Veronica Etro’s designs; her vision really shines through the most when it comes to the brand’s winter collections, imo, and given that I live in a country where winter or some weather state resembling it does seem to take up 70% of the year, I did decide on channelling her work rather than that of the equally talented Nicky and Simone Zimmermann this time round.

9. Dolce & Gabbana

-flower crown from ASOS, tiara from Amazon, earrings from YesStyle, dress from alicealderdice1 on Depop, opera gloves from Ebay, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

D&G is a brand I felt really conflicted about doing-I don’t include their current collections in my fashion week reviews based on the actions of designers Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce over the last few years because I don’t want to mitigate the collective effort of fashion critics to push them towards irrelevancy. Though people like to claim the brand has turned a corner since Lucio Di Rosa was brought on board as the manager of celebrity and VIP relations last year (they are as prolific a force on red carpet fashion as ever), we haven’t seen any real meaningful apologies or reparations made by Dolce and Gabbana themselves which once again leaves us in the all too familiar quandary of whether or not we can separate the art from the artist especially when it is far too much of a simplification to only credit the two men for their work given there’s a whole design team behind them. There are a LOT of shitty people working in fashion, the whole industry is a bit of a cesspit if we’re honest, but I don’t think that should stop us from at least being able to appreciate old collections if we make sure we aren’t engaging in any kind of promotion of current works whilst doing so. D&G are a brand of high highs and low lows, with looks that range from hideously ugly to showstoppingly beautiful in a single show-when the looks are good, they are GOOD-and their presence in the fashion world is most definitely felt whether we want it to be or not. It would just be shit to refuse to recognise the existence of some real iconic runway moments, the practical work that went into the ornate detail and opulence that helped cement D&Gs place in sartorial history, the styling that’s made goddesses and fairytale queens out of modern day women as they’ve glided down catwalks, the far more extravagant and, let’s be real, sexier version of our world D&G shows have transported us to in the past. Will I talk about D&G ever again? No, and if you Google the scandals their brand has faced over the past few years, there are more than enough reasons why, but just this once I did want to pay homage to some of the collections, the snippets of which I saw on my Tumblr dashboard back when I was about 13, that first got me into fashion.

10. Gucci

-fur coat from Topshop, clips from Zaful, glasses from Ebay, dress from gracewright246 on Depop, shirt from Boohoo, blazer from charity shop-

Now last but, if you ever read any of my fashion week reviews (the likelihood of someone actually having read one of them and reading this is incredibly, incredibly slim lol, I wouldn’t read me either) you’ll know, definitely not least, is Gucci because Alessandro Michele comes through every!! single!! time!!

The man is truly the king of quirky throwback maximalism and it hurts my heart that a lot of people seem to think of it only as a brand associated with ostentatious displays of wealth. Year after year since Michele was made creative director he has released purposeful, fully-fleshed out collections which unravel themselves to us on the runway like time capsules containing the belongings of the rich and whimsical and yes that can sometimes result in outfits which are *ahem* a bit mismatched but it doesn’t matter because through fashion he manages to take us to a vivid version of the past where people could dress as freely and lavishly as they wanted to, into the wardrobe of a person unaffected by the side-eyeing of others. You get the impression he doesn’t design so much as plays around with some kind of enchanted dress up box and takes inspiration from there and to give that impression is only a credit to his talent-to make outfits so kooky and extravagant look like they were meant to be takes a boldness and genuine love for clothes that I do tend to feel a lot of the big name designers have lost in the pursuit of profit and the necessary placating of the dying customer base that keeps that coming in. Of course I'm not for a second saying Gucci does not care about profit, but at the very least, they have on board a creative director who genuinely has fun with what they’re putting out there and wants to make a statement too and that really shows; you can rest on your laurels and sell tweed boucle jackets to rich old white women for eternity but nobody’s going to mention your brand name and the word groundbreaking in the same sentence ever again unless they’re talking about what it was a century ago, you know (mentioning no names...unless...did I hear someone say Chanel)? That feels like such a shady way to end, lol, but I’m sure said brand will survive-to be fair, they’ve been included in every other What I’d Wear to Sit Front Row At video I’ve seen so although I’m always slagging them off for doing the saaaaame thinggggg year after year, for that same reason their aesthetic is instantly recognisable and so will always be a source of imitation. There are obviously pros and cons to being a brand which constantly reinvents itself but I think it’s totally possible to do that whilst maintaining an overall mission, and Alessandro Michele’s work at Gucci demonstrates that with ease.

Anyway, if you got to here, thanks for reading! I know I’m super behind on this whole TikTok trend and I know a Tumblr post instead of a video is a bit of a cop out but all the real, physically awkward ones out there know that watching yourself back is excruciating lmao, so I hope this does the trick. After this, I’m gonna get back to the reviewing S/S21 collections post though knowing me I’ll probs take a few days to get back into that because I feel like since I left full-time education (RIP me going back in a few months) writing continuously like this for any longer than about 15 mins fries what brain cells I have left. Again, thank you for reading and if you are, sending many good vibes your way! Stay safe!

Lauren x

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