#can you tell i was forced to read A Tale of Two Cities?

[aliceig]

I love talking to people that dont know jack shit about classic literature because I can tell them that Charles Dicken’s novels suck ass (because they do) and they will be like “okay yeah ig” and I get to recruit yet another Dicken’s disliker

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

WHEN YOU WERE A CHILD, the world was a small, uncomplicated place. Mom and Dad don't have much money to travel abroad and their jobs only allow for little leisure, so the furthest vacation spot is a beach four hours' drive from your home city. School fills your days with lessons, friends, and the promise of weekend sleepovers. Every day, you stroll down the same street and greet your neighbors by name. Happiness was as close as your mother's freshly baked blueberry pie.

But now? When your world becomes wider and the reach of your hand becomes longer, it seems that happiness finds further hiding places. It grieves you that childhood was too brief; that bubble of safety from the world's woes and tribulations burst before you could even appreciate it.

The five-year-old you looked in the mirror, twisting your tiny feet to see the new shoes from all angles. Despite your repeated protests that you preferred the blue one, your mother purchased the bright pink one—she said it matched her favorite dress, and mother knows best, so you don't have to bother thinking about what you wanted. You shrugged to yourself; at least it's better than your old one.

Walking down the hall, you found your father. He's not in his usual play clothes – he's dressed for work, eyes crinkling as he smiles. "My little princess, you look so pretty!"

You beamed at his praise, chubby cheeks glowing. Nothing makes your heart sing like Dad's smile. You spin around like a princess in a fairy tale, showing off your shoes by stomping gently on the wooden surface.

“Mom bought it for me. It's not blue, but I like it!”

Dad chuckled. “Well, at least she spent my money on my favorite girl.”

Your mother emerged from the kitchen, your lunch bag in hand. “I saw them on sale at the store and just knew they'd be perfect for school,” she says proudly. Your father turned to you, opening his mouth to say something but, Mother interrupted. “We'd better get going or she'll be late for class.”

Dad sighs, mumbling a “yes, I know,” and kneels to sweep you into a tight hug. Your secret handshake is special – finger guns with “pew pew” noises, then knuckles bumping before more hugs and kisses. Your mother rolled her fondly eyes. “You two are always conspiring, sharing your little secrets. Now say goodbye, Daddy has to get to work."

You dislike it when Dad has to leave for work—in fact, you prefer him to Mom. But, Mom said he had to go or else there would be no food on the table for dinner; Besides, Daddy will definitely come back home and you can play with him again. You waved, forcing a smile to look as happy as possible.

"Bye, Daddy!"

"See you soon, princess." With a wave of his hand, your father answered and vanished behind the wooden door.

As Daddy's car pulls away from the curb, you hear Mom walking over to where the car keys are kept. You take a deep breath before exhaling slowly, but that strange tightness in your chest persists—one that usually occurs when it's just Mom and you. She opened the door and told you to go to the car. You followed her in silence, eyes fixed on the pattern on your new pink shoes.

Sliding into the backseat, you peer out the window. The car engine started, and the radio played the same playlist. You watch the buildings and trees move backward. Mom glances at you in the rearview mirror and corrects you about your slumped posture, saying it's an ugly look for a young lady. You sat up straight in your chair and muttered an apology. Satisfied, your mother returned her attention to the road.

Secretly, you wish it could be your dad driving you to school instead. He's more fun, telling silly stories to make you laugh, and doesn't mind your messy crayons or clothes that don't match perfectly. Your mother always finds fault with anything that is unclean or out of place.

Looking up at the clear sky, you hope the sun will soon be above, indicating that lunchtime is approaching. Lunchtime means it's a few hours until sundown, and dinner will soon be served.  You want to quickly see Dad and hear whatever stories he has during the day—that is, if he comes home. Lately, work has been keeping him from home more and more. However, if he's too busy, then tomorrow will do—Sunday sounds fun. He never missed a Sunday with you.

The weekend comes quickly, and you can barely contain your excitement when Dad takes you to the park Sunday morning. You walk hand in hand down the busy sidewalk, you chat a mile a minute about school. Laughter and barking greeted you both.

A fluffy golden retriever catches your eye, and you tug Daddy's hand, pointing excitedly. “Can we get a puppy, Daddy? Please? I'd take such good care of it, I promise!”

Your father chuckled, then shook his head. “You know how your mother feels about furry friends making a mess in the house.”

Disappointed, you scruff your shoes in the dirt. Dad never refuses what you want, no matter how ridiculous it is, unless it contradicts Mom. Unfortunately, the majority of what you desire is always something your mother despises. You continue walking.

Then he points – an ice cream cart! “Can I have one?” You ask, only to remember. "Mom said no sweets before dinner."

Dad crouches to meet your downcast eyes. “But Mom's not here. And you and me, we're partners in crime, right? I won't tell if you won't. What do you say we keep our sweet treat just between us?”

Gasping for joy, bubbles of laughter escaped your lips. "Okay!" Dad got you cones, of course, chocolate ones, and you swung your clasped hands and gawked at all the colorful, melted options. There's no better way to spend a Sunday than taking a stroll with Dad in the sunshine.

Monday night, however, was spent with you lying in bed with a fever ravaging your little body. Through the haze, you hear raised voices carrying down the hall—Mom scolding Dad for letting you have that ice cream.

“I can't believe you disobeyed me, Peter! One ice cream and now she's sick as a dog.” Her shrill voice pierces your pounding head.

“C'mon Anna, the girl's allowed a treat now and then.” Dad's calmer rumble does little to quell your mother's fury.

“If you'd listened to me from the start, this never would've happened. But you always think you know best.” Their arguing grows more heated, and you curl into a tight ball, wishing you could disappear.

Your mother's booming footsteps grew farther away as their conversations ceased. You open your eyes. When your door creaks and you turn around, the light from the corridor peeks through a tiny opening, and your father's form fills the frame. He sits next to you with a strained, contrite expression on his face.

“Hey, honey,” he started. “I'm sorry our secret got out. Mom's just worried about you being sick.”

You try to smile, though it comes out as more of a grimace. “S’okay, Daddy.” You said, and he stroked your damp hair tenderly; concern etched deep.

“Jesus, you're burning up. How about a story to take your mind off feeling bad?”

As if on cue, you remember – “The Nutcracker, please!”

With a kind grin, your father got up to get the cherished book. He takes a seat next to you, acts puzzled as he flips through a book and clears his throat.

"Now let's see, how did this story go again?" You chuckled at his attempt to divert your attention from your fever.

Soon later, he starts reading aloud with a low, comfortable voice. Sometimes, he stumbles over long words or loses his place, but each time he simply smiles sheepishly before continuing on. His favorite part is the dialogue, as he frequently adopts a different voice to portray different characters. You find yourself entranced, following each magical adventure.

For a little while, you can forget about the uncomfortable heat covering your body and Mom's angry shouts. In these quiet moments with your father, nothing else matters but his gentle company. In this once kinder world, he is still your father and you are still his favorite daughter—his one and only. Even if getting an ice cream is what makes you sick, you would do it all over again just to share this time with him.

By the story's end, your eyelids grow heavy enough, but not quite heavy. Dad chuckled, closing the book. “Still awake, little love? You must be feeling better.”

Your lips curve into a smile, glazed eyes glistening as flushed cheeks rise. “Mom signed me up for ballet classes,” you mumble sleepily.

A gasp escaped his lips, his forehead shot upwards emphasizing the already existing wrinkles. He looked at you with irises the same color as yours. You chuckle from his reaction, but your smile fades when his features swim and blur before you like figures in a dream. His gaze was always so kind, looks darker than you recall. Stubble shadows his jaw. When he smiles now, it doesn't reach as far.

He said your name—but it sounded foreign, it felt wrong. Why can't you see him clearly anymore?

“My little princess, you’re going to be the greatest ballet dancer the world has ever seen.” You wanted to answer, to hold this moment with him forever; but heavy eyelids won the battle and ultimately dragged you down. As the darkness enveloped you, Dad's hazy face was the last thing on your mind.

Thin curtains block the dreary morning light as you begin your daily ritual of waking up. The city has just woken up below; fog still hangs on the streets of London as you pad barefoot to the kitchen, the hardwood cold under your feet.

Filling the kettle, you set it to boil and retrieve your favorite chipped mug from the shelf. Your hand reaches for a packet of instant grounds—two scoops of it go inside, followed by a splash of cream. After lifting the whistling kettle, you poured in the boiling water slowly before taking a tea spoon to stir. The sound of the drizzle striking the glass was amplified by the apartment's quiet, and a small clink! sound is added each time your spoon meets your porcelain mug.

Lifting the mug, you breathe deep its comforting aroma before taking a careful sip, sighing as warmth spreads through your body. Coffee in hand, you turn to the task of packing your bag, put the essentials: water bottle, warm up shorts, warm up sweater, leg warmers, two pointe shoes, skirts, and a pouch containing deodorant, hair spray, comb, pins , and band aids.

Feeling quite satisfied, you finish your coffee and rinse the mug before leaving it to dry. You go shower and do your skincare routine. Pulling out your clothes drawer, you retrieve the leotard and tights, sliding the familiar fabrics over still-damp limbs.

Before the full-length mirror, you start to stretch. First position – feet turned out, heels together, arms graceful at your sides. Middle split – breathe in, reach for your toes, feel the burn in your thighs. Forward fold, palms flat on the floor, spine lengthening. After feeling warmed up for the day, you slowly got up and grabbed your bag towards the door.

The city was already starting to get busy, with the hustle and bustle of commuters making their way to work. The aroma of freshly baked pastries and brewing coffee wafting through the air. You quickened your footsteps on the cobblestone streets.

When the train door opens, you rush out, clutching your bag tight. Racing up the stairs, you burst through the exit and meet the cold air from the rain. You rubbed your hands against your arms in a desperate attempt to warm yourself. Overhead, heavy clouds hung low. You set off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace.

But, as your building comes into view, you slow down—memories from last night fill your head. It was just here—under the awnings of that little café—that you first took shelter from the rain with him.

Simon. His name whispers through your mind like fog swirling around lampposts. If only the place was still open, maybe you would come in for a sweet warm drink instead of that crowded pub. Must've been nice, you think—it must've been nice to chat between sweets, enveloped in comfort that stretches time to be longer. Maybe he won't be so guarded and you'll get more than a name and a job—a promise to meet tomorrow at breakfast, for example.

Realizing you had completely stopped walking, you shook your head as embarrassment settled on your cheeks. Why do you dwell on such fantasies? Despite his kindness, Simon is just a stranger with just a name, one of many faces in this city that you will never meet again.

With a sigh, you continued your walk and disappeared behind the large doors of the opera.

The heavy doors creaked open as you pushed inside, warmth enveloping your cold body. Long hallway echoed with the conversation of the dancers who had arrived, sitting cross-legged on the cold floor while exchanging a joke or two with each other. You turn into the dressing room. Hanging up your coat, you saw a familiar sight—girls chatting and gossiping as they got ready.

You sat down at one of the dressers, placing your duffel bag at your feet. The sound of a zipper being opened sounded in the air; you bent down and reached for your pouch. Then, you pull out your trusty lip balm before applying it to your lips and gently massaging in the colorless formula.

Just then, a girl came and stopped at the door frame, panting. “It's up! The casting announcement is on the board!”

Squeals of excitement and joy were heard as they rushed to see who got what role. You hurriedly closed your balm, returned it to the pouch before getting up from the chair following the others. They had gathered at the end of the hall, jostling to see a piece of paper stuck to the board.

Air fills your lungs slowly when you inhale. It felt like your hammering heart was going to drop to your stomach as your legs started to swing. The pessimistic side of you says to turn around—why bother? It said tauntingly, you know which role you ended up having. But the hopeful side—the little girl still full of dreams stored somewhere in your ribs—insisted on peering and feeling.

As you stepped into the crowd of dancers, they turned around and some started smiling at you. One of them, Jasmine, approached you after calling your name.

“You did it! You got the role!”

As she hugged you, you scanned down the long list. Your eyes freeze on the main role. The Swan Queen. Beside it is printed in big black letters, your name. The Swan Queen.

You detach yourself from Jasmine's embrace, muttering excuses as you flee down the hall to the toilet. Step by step opening each stall to make sure the space is totally empty, you then lock yourself in one of them and sink into the closed toilet lid. Your mind is racing with a plethora of feelings as your eyes are fixed on the sections of tile plaque.

Joy, pride, disbelief... But underneath it all lies a hollow ache you can't place. Why? Isn't this what you've always wanted, to to become more than just another dancer in the group, to stop at precisely the thirteenth, and somehow take on the role of the Swan Queen—the one who shines the most on stage? Perhaps it's the self-conscious part of you, believing that the director must have made a mistake and mistook you for someone else.

Or perhaps this emptiness was once occupied by the never-ending quest for approval. In truth, that person no longer exists; you have no one left to tell this good news to. The chairs in the crowd were empty.

The cost of keeping everyone at a distance, indeed.

You clutch on your leotard, the fabric wrinkling in your tight grip. Gazing up at the ceiling and inhaling again, you make the decision to push up on unsteady legs and get out of the stall.

The hallway seems louder than before. Every footstep and whisper amplified in your mind, eyes tracking you as you pass—all judging, wondering. A flush creeps up your neck. You speed up your steps, hoping to quickly get out from under their scrutinizing gaze. However, no matter how hard you try, your ears cannot be deafened by the snatches of hushed conversation that follow.

“Can't believe they chose her; she's so soulless on stage.” Your throat constricts, and your hands are clenched into pale fists.

Claudine's piercing stare cuts through the crowd as your eyes meet. She rakes her gaze over you slowly, as if trying to decipher what the director found so special. You lowered your eyes, hurriedly passing to the safety of the empty dressing room. Grabbing your bag with shaky hands, you flee once more to the practice studio, desperate to lose their judgment.

The studio door's knob turned, and as you pushed slightly to get a glimpse inside, the hinges creaked. With the coach and pianist, the director was engaged in a serious discussion. He gives you a quick glance and gestures for you to enter.

“(Y/N), it's so wonderful to have you here. I know this role is in excellent hands with you.” His kind words did little to calm your fraying nerves, but you took the crumbs of his appreciation.

More dancers arrive behind you, their excited chatter filling the hallway. Risking a glance over your shoulder, you catch sight of familiar faces: Jasmine, Sophia, Eloise, long-faced Marie—surely she's not used to not being the main star, and you feel like you've taken her place even though you're not good enough. You swallow hard and turn back, placing your duffel bag in the studio's corner.

The director clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. “Bravo to each of you for earning these coveted roles through your talent and dedication. Now, let us begin our work to bring Tchaikovsky's magic to life for our audiences. Places everyone, we'll start from the beginning!”

Your shoulders rise as you inhale a deep breath. Swan Lake. First time becoming the Swan Queen.

Does the director know that his gaze carries a heavy weight? The more sighs he lets out, the more you suffocate, as if the air has been tainted with butane and you've reached the vertigo stage. His eyes followed your every move, but it was his lips that showed dissatisfaction. Something isn't up to his expectations, and it's not the techniques and poses your ballet teacher has been drilling you in since childhood. You are deficient in something that you are unaware of.

The director calls to a halt, praising and giving notes to the other dancers before turning to you. You brace yourself with a deep breath.

“Your technique is truly flawless as always. But I wonder, could you try injecting just a bit more... feeling?” he began. “You portray her innocence and loneliness beautifully. But what is missing is the glimmer of hope she finds in Prince Siegfried's promise to free her.”

Hope? The girl had lived most of her life as a swan; what silly hope did she still have and seek in a man? As if their hearts have the ability to keep a promise. Swan Lake wouldn't be Swan Lake without the prince declaring his love for another woman and Odette jumping off the cliff from the realization that her dreams had ended in vain. Is it not more fitting that she feels only emptiness—the result of years of loneliness leeching any warmth or longing from her soul?

You tell yourself that, if not merely to cover up your poor performance. The director is many years older than you and has directed and seen many ballets throughout his life. If anyone knows how to bring a character to life, it's him.

It begs the question, though, of whether a cursed being like her seems capable of wishing for miracles or fairy tale things like love. Can a withered flower, beaten down by countless rains, still hold the memory of the sun in its crumpled petals?

“I'll do better.” You said.

The director gives a pitying smile; you felt small beneath him. “Good.” Then raising his voice, “Well done everyone today. Let's call it a day and start again tomorrow fresh!"

Snatching up your bag, you rush towards the exit before anyone can speak to you. With your head down, you push through the doors and into the night. Breathing in trembling, you let your legs carry you down the well-known pavement. The sights and sounds of bustling London blur around you.

You shouldn't have believed that girl. You shouldn't have given that dreamy girl the chance to lead a version of herself that has grown far beyond her—because you know her judgment means nothing, just a limited view of the world through rose-tinted glasses. She is that way because a liar once said that she would make a great ballet dancer, and she stuck to it like a devoted disciple to the words of her God.

It was stupid, perhaps a misplaced self-confidence. With your every step, the negative voices in your mind grow louder, jeering relentlessly at your foolishness. This was a mistake from the start. As if you could ever do Odette justice. Best tell him you're stepping down; let Claudine or Marie have the role they deserve. Your heart is heavy, weighing you down to the floor. 

You almost pass by without noticing, but there, through the haze, glows the warm orange light of that pub. The one Simon and you ducked into that stormy night, where you shared pleasantries over pints of bitter. As you watch the door open and close for the newcomers, you halt.

You're not sure which Satan incited. But when you push open the pub door, warmth immediately envelopes you, scents of ale and smoke mingling with the bustle of chatter. A lively folk tune played on the sound system as patrons laughed together in the booths and around the bar. Steeling yourself, you approached awkwardly.

The bartender looked up, his eyes widening briefly before his lips curved into a flirtatious smile. "Well hello gorgeous, what can I get for ya?"

Warmth floods your cheeks and you shift from foot to foot. “Um, do you have anything non-alcoholic?” You said, awkward voice breaking easily. Why did you come in here again?

He raised an eyebrow but maintained a friendly smile. “Sure do, love. Give me a mo.” As he turns around to prepare your drink, you glance around helplessly.

Faces blurred in the dim light—all engaged in lively conversation. You sit alone at the bar like you're waiting for a friend while watching everyone else meet theirs. A feeling of loneliness overtakes you – what were you thinking coming here?

Bartender returns, sliding your drink across with a wink. “On the house. Let me know if you need anything else, yeah?”

Giving a mumbled thanks, you take a sip acting busy. As you sit alone nursing your drink, you believe you understand why. Deep down, beneath all the self-doubt and shame, is a glimmer of truth you loath to admit – you desperately seek companionship, if only for a moment.

And the only person close enough for you to consider a friend is a masked stranger you will never see again. That's pathetic; you're pathetic. Clinging to the irrational part to watch Simon walk through that door. He claims he's a regular here—his “I'm here often enough” seems to make you hold out for the chance of running into him again.

Twenty minutes pass in a haze, and Simon still hasn't appeared. Maybe he's not a regular after all. You finally glance at your phone—it's time for your usual subway.

Signaling the bartender, you place some cash on the bar as a tip. “Thanks again,” you murmur, then gather your coat and slip out into the chill night.

“Sorry,” you mumble when you bump into a figure about to enter.

“No worries, love,” a British-accented voice replies smoothly, and you glance up, thinking it's someone. A stranger—tall, broad shoulders, but not Simon. Perfectly coiffed hair and skin as smooth as porcelain. He shot a charming smile at you. “Off somewhere?”

Instantly on alert, your eyes start looking for a way to get away from him. “Just heading home, thanks.”

Making a sidestep, his arms extended to block your path. Your mind's alarm goes off. His gaze burned as it swept over you, lingering in places it had no right to be before he licked his lips. You felt a cold sweat run down your back.

“Don't be like that, darling. I just want to chat. Buy you a drink, maybe?” His smile grows, and the sick glint in his eyes shows how much it amuses him to see you trembling.

“Sorry, I—”

“I believe the lady said she’s not interested, mate.”

A gruff, familiar voice cuts through the haze. You whip your head around to see Simon standing there. His face is half obscured by his black mask, but you'll recognize that steel gaze everywhere. For some reason, your heart gradually calms down in your ribs.

“And who the fuck are you?” the other asked angrily, puffing up his chest. A daring move, you think. His too-tight t-shirt reveals his consistent gym muscles, but if Simon is his opponent, you can be sure he's no match.

“Just not a fan of creeps harassing women. Now do yourself a favor and fuck off before I make you.” Simon threatened.

The color drains from the guy's face when he sees Simon's seriousness. He walked away, swallowing his wounded pride with a huff. The pressure recedes from your rigid frame as you watch the figure leave before turning to Simon.

"You hurt at all?" he asked, doing a scan of you to check for himself.

You shake your head, then manage a shaky “No, I'm fine. Thank you.”

Simon looked at you, then looked behind you towards the pub. When he turns back to you, his eyebrows raise slightly questioningly.

“You were in there your own?”

The warmth from his question traveled across your cheeks, striking a contrast with the night breeze. You didn't dare to meet his eyes, choosing to settle on your shoes instead. Despite having come here just to meet him, feeling under his judgment is like getting a shot of adrenaline into your legs—so much so that you want to run to get away from him.

“I, um…” Words fail you beneath your embarrassment.

How pathetic you must look—a lone girl nursing a drink with no companions, seeking solace in other people's conversations. You can't, however, just reveal your total lack of friends. Your mind searched frantically for a convincing reason.

“Just… needed to clear my head after a long day of practice. Thought the atmosphere might help.”

Even to your own ears, the lie falls flat. You didn't know if Simon noticed. Though you're pitiful, he doesn't furrow his brow or look at you that way. He asks no questions at all, not even about poor attempts at lying, and he doesn't press people on matters they would rather leave unsaid. Simon doesn't pry; you think that's his good quality.

Simon looked up at the dark sky instead. “Getting late, this is. I'll walk you to the tube.” He nodded, gesturing down the empty sidewalk.

Thick clouds rolled low. The two of you make your way towards the subway station, passing one by one the buildings constructed from buff-colored brick. Simon is striding beside you, his long legs eating up the pavement with ease. Secretly, you steal glances at his broad figure against the lamplight. Your eyes follow the line of his shoulders under his leather jacket—the way it molds into muscular arms.

This is different from your first meeting. There's no need now for nervous small talk to fill the quiet; you're not much of a talker, and Simon also finds more peace in silence.

Simon's presence feels more companionable than awkward. Warmth bloomed in your ribs as your lips curled into a small smile before it disappeared again. You both walk in wordless sync before you become bored and break it.

“I didn't really expect to see you again.”

Simon glances down at you, his brows quirking questioningly. Did you sound ungrateful? You rush to explain. “I mean, it was all like a chance thing, running into each other like that. Figured it was just... a one-time thing, you know?”

He thought about your words for a moment. “Funny how things work out sometimes.”

Up ahead, the glow of the station sign begins to appear. You bit the inside of your cheek as you slowly slowed down your pace, but you made sure it was unnoticeable. Your journey's end draws near, but you hope this togetherness can last longer.

Summoning your courage, you try, “Were you meeting someone at the pub? Before…” Your words trail off, but he seems to understand.

“Nah, wasn't meeting anyone,” he said casually. “Just fancied a drink, is all.”

You nodded, acting satisfied, but actually feeling a little disappointed. It seemed that he was in fact a frequent visitor, coming and going on any given evening; it was just for a drink, like before he met you. Meanwhile, you cling to the prospect of another chance to meet like a lifeline. As the station came into full view, your eyes fell, brewing more embarrassment and desperation in your stomach. Maybe he has someone waiting for him. What were you thinking, letting yourself hope?

Yet, though small, the rebellious part of you refuses to let this end.

"What do you usually drink?" You ask again, grasping for any excuse to extend your time, no matter how little.

“Bourbon,” he replied gruffly. “Kentucky, usually. Good drop.”

Twenty-three years old, but this discussion is still foreign territory for you. Your fingers can count the few times you've tasted alcohol—each occasion marred by your mother's voice in your head, warning of its evil. It's rather comical, considering how it once became her loyal companion for several years—that damned thing became the only thing she looked for after coming home from work and gulping it down flat on the living room sofa to dull her broken heart. You cannot yet judge her as a hypocrite or someone who has learned from her mistakes. As if a single glass would transform you into some fallen woman. It was always all or nothing with her; there was no concept of moderation.

Such inhibitions are not for Simon, though. A man of the world who has seen and done things that you could scarcely fathom. For him, a pint after work is as regular as taking a breath.

All too soon, you reach the stairs leading down to the station entrance. Your feet stopped when he did. Turning your body to face him, you gathered your courage and looked up. His eyes meet yours, and you see him about to open his mouth behind his surgical mask. No, you can't bear to hear that final goodbye.

“Do you..” You started. “Like anything else to drink, besides bourbon? I probably have… something at my place.”

There was a change in his gaze before he returned to his usual guarded gaze. Your cheeks screamed on fire at the implication that you didn't quite mean to make. Such an invitation should be the last thing a girl like you offers to a stranger she's only met twice, particularly at this hour. To your defense, though, he's now an acquaintance, and desperation influences people to do the unthinkable. The nights are getting colder and your lonely apartment won't do.

It seems that your question surprised him too. Simon scanned your face carefully before releasing the tension.

“Tea.”

When Simon replies with a single gruff word, you can't help but smile, ducking your head to hide it behind loose tendrils of hair. Lifting your eyes once more, you find him staring at you. Two people engaging in a silent game of deciphering, each trying to unravel the secrets of the other piece by piece.

“Tea,” you repeat softly, as if savoring the taste of the word.

Fingers twisting together, you steel your nerves before turning toward the stairs to lead the way down. You hear his footsteps fall solidly behind you. Not daring to look back out of fear that this dream will shatter, you mentally urge your feet faster.

At the platform's edge, mist curls between the rails like grasping fingers. Simon was standing right next to you. Slowly, the lights of an approaching train emerge, growing brighter by the second. With a weary hiss, the sliding doors open in front of you in welcome. You turned to Simon, then stepped aboard, and he followed, as you already knew.

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[i-can-read-to-him]

The Wesper Fic Club's Author Spotlight is a post series that aims to feature two to three fic authors a month, randomly selected from a pool of names put forth on our server. The authors are then asked to answer three interview questions, select up to five of their fics for us to feature, and finally, recommend three fics by others in the fandom.

(Note: Our spotlighted fics are not limited to Wesper, though they tend to be a central pairing in most of our authors' featured works.)

This week, we are putting a spotlight on Ashlynn's writing!

Socials: @oneofthewednesdays (Tumblr) | oneofthewednesdays (AO3)

❀

Part One: Author Interview

Q: What’s something you haven’t written yet, but want to write in the future?

A:  So, one of my favorite series when I was in high school was The Mediator series by Meg Cabot. I was absolutely obsessed with the budding romance between Jesse and Suze. In fact, I used to write for the fandom back in my fanfiction.net days. Those early fics have been purged from the Internet as far as I can tell. Anyway, I want to write a Mediator AU for the Six of Crows fandom. Instead of zowa powers, Jesper can see dead people. These dead people may or may not include the ghost of his mother. In his first year at university, he ends up moving into a room in a building that used to be an inn back in the 1800s. Wylan is haunting his bedroom. (He was murdered en route to a music conservatory back in the day). Jesper decides to solve the mystery of Wylan’s murder, at first because he is annoyed by his ghostly roommate. He wants to force Wylan to move on so he can have his room to himself. But later Jesper begins to care about Wylan, even falling in love with him. If you have read The Mediator series, you already know how it is going to end…. Also, Paul Slater will be played by Kuwei Yul-Bo. If you know, you know.

Q: If you could travel anywhere in the Grishaverse, where would you go?

A: I would travel to Ketterdam to study at the university. I absolutely fell in love with the description in the book, with its crooked little alleyways filled with bookbinders and apothecaries. It reminds me so much of Oxford University in real life. I had the opportunity to conduct archival research at Oxford as a visiting scholar when I was in graduate school. During my two summers in England, I spent hours nestled in the Bodleian Library, surrounded by stacks of books. The design of the Boeksplein is basically the same, but with more interesting gargoyles. I am also about to begin my career as a university professor, so the University of Ketterdam just seems like a good fit… as long as gunfights don’t break out in the reading room.

Q: Apart from sight, what is your favourite of the senses to describe when writing?

A: I absolutely love writing with sound, especially words with subtle onomatopoeia. I love the rustle of leaves on a crisp autumn morning, and the murmur of the wind through the branches of a willow tree. I draw quite a bit of inspiration from Edgar Allan Poe here. When I was young, I fell in love with his description of a heartbeat in “The Tell-Tale Heart.” His poem “The Bells” is absolutely mesmerizing to me, and I borrow sounds from it all the time. Indeed, Poe talks quite a bit about the importance of sound in creating mood in one of his essays—“The Philosophy of Composition”—and it is something I think about quite a bit when I write. I love to use the ticking of clocks and the dripping of water to stretch silences. Finally, I absolutely love movies like the Quiet Place franchise because they are a study in soundscapes. In another life, I think it would have been really cool to become a foley artist in the film industry.

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Part Two: Selected Works

Sleep No More

Teen | 51.1K | Wesper Modern AU, NYC, Homelessness, Angst with a Happy Ending

Sleep No More is my love letter to New York City. In the opening scene, Wylan wakes up on the 7-train as it leaves the tunnel at Hunters Point Avenue. The glare flickers beneath his eyelids, making it impossible to sleep.  I took the same commute on the 7-train for several years when I was working out at a school in Queens. I would spend over an hour on the train, listening to Crooked Kingdom and other audiobooks on my commute. On one of those commutes, I started to consider the challenges Wylan would face as an unhoused teenager in the city. The story evolved from there to include alternating point-of-view chapters between Wylan and Jesper, and of course, some guest appearances from other crows, as they work together to outwit Jan Van Eck.

Musée des Beaux Arts

Teen | 24.6K | Gen with background Wesper, Kanej Friendship, Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Ableism, Happy Ending

I wrote Musée des Beaux Arts during the Six of Crows Big Bang event back in 2022. I wanted to explore how Wylan and Kaz complement each other as character foils throughout the series. Therefore, the story includes alternating point-of-view chapters, starting with the Queen’s Lady Plague. The title comes from a poem of the same name by W.H. Auden, and I tried to incorporate themes from that poem throughout the story. The poem, in particular, discusses a Pieter Bruegel painting called Landscape with the Fall of Icarus. Therefore, artwork plays a central role throughout the narrative. Each chapter shares a title with a famous painting from the Dutch Golden Age. My favorite chapter is probably the third because I had so much fun writing Jesper. 

Sankta Margaretha and Other Tales Of Sorrow

Teen | 18.4K | Kanej  Hurt/Comfort, Family, Angst, Implied/Referenced Non-con

This was the first story that I ever wrote for the Six of Crows fandom, and it is easily my most popular fic. It follows Mama and Papa Ghafa on their journey to Ketterdam to reunite with their daughter. I had so much fun developing the unique narrative voices for both Mama Ghafa and Papa Ghafa. The Lives of the Saints features heavily in this fic as well. I fell in love with the story of Sankta Margaretha when I first read it, and I wanted to infuse as much of that mythos into the story as possible. It is, at its core, a story about faith and forgiveness. Plus, I got to write one of my favorite interactions between Papa Ghafa and Kaz Brekker. 

Escapology

Teen | 2.2K | Gen  Modern AU, Escape Rooms, Friendship, Humor

Escapology is such a self-indulgent little fic. I am an escape room enthusiast in real life. I have traveled to multiple cities with my friends to complete escape rooms. We have, to date, done thirty-nine rooms together as a team. I wanted to explore the chaotic energy of a Modern AU where the Crows work together to escape an Ice Court-themed escape room. Kuwei is their poor, exhausted gamemaster.  If we ever get our Six of Crows spin-off, I need Netflix to create an exclusive Ice Court escape room in real life. Can you imagine how fun it would be? 

Pas De Deaux 

Teen | 9.7K | Wesper Holidays, Healing, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Post-Canon

I am so fond of this little fic, and not very many people have read it compared to some of the others, but I am not surprised because it was a winter fic that was published well after the winter holidays. It is heavily inspired by the Soldier Prince story in The Language of Thorns, which was in turn heavily inspired by The Nutcracker Suite. Wylan is struggling with less-than-happy memories during Nachtspel, and Jesper helps him make new memories. I started this story writing the kiss at the end, and then had to write nine thousand words to actually get to the kiss.

❀

Part Three: Author's Recs

Bright Morning Stars by endoftheworld 

Mature | 163.5K | Wesper Hunger Games Crossover, Canon Typical Violence, Rebellion

This is the second story in Now We Are All Chosen Ones. While I would encourage you to read the opening story in the series first, it can absolutely stand on its own as a self-contained story. Jesper has always known that he would be reaped for the Hunger Games. It was only a matter of time. Meanwhile, Wylan is the son of the president, and he begins to realize that he is being watched. Bright Morning Stars keeps you on the edge of your seat from start to finish, and I absolutely love how the author wove together Six of Crows and the Hunger Games. 

hybrid signal by pyrrhlc

Mature | 110K | Kanej with background Wesper, Helnik  Fairy Tale Curses, Haunted House, Monster Kaz, Hurt/Comfort

Written through the lens of a Beauty and the Beast AU, this is an absolutely gorgeous exploration of not only the love between Kaz and Inej, but also the meaning of forgiveness in all its forms. The worldbuilding is stunning, and I loved how the enchantment transformed each of the crows. There are tragic notes to it, of course, there is an eventual happy ending. 

crystal cut by twosoulsinonehome

Mature | 107K | Wesper Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Figure Skating, Hurt/Comfort

I have reread this fic at least three times since the final chapter was posted in February. It is a figure skating AU. I know nothing about figure skating. However, I was absolutely entranced by the annoyances-to-lovers dynamic throughout the fic. Wylan is a figure skater. Jesper is his coach. Will they kill each other before the end of the season? Or will they kiss each other senseless instead? (Who am I kidding? You already know the answer to that question.)

❀

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[treacheryinblue]

Chapter 1/?

Word Count: 8.5k

Masterlist

A Noah Sebastian x OC x Nicholas Ruffilo Series

× Summary: In the not so distant future, there's only Above and Below ― a "castle" that reaches the sky and the gritty underbelly that's looked down upon ( both literally and metaphorically ). The guys are recruited to carry out the task of taking down this power with the assistance of Scarlett: a confident and seductive, yet mysterious, force that may be closer to the enemy than what she lets on. Themes: dystopian, cyberpunk, post-apocalyptic, etc.

× Warnings!: Things get smutty. Language. Death - both spoken of and written. Violence. Anti-government. Broody Noah. Precious baby angel Nicholas. A girl who can't choose. Drinking, drugs, etc. Unreliable narrator? Each chapter will have its own set of separate warnings if there's anything additional.

× Author Notes: ( 1 ) Just going to be honest straight up ― if you don't like world building, then you may not like this. ⍨ ( 2 ) This chapter is more Nick centered because he deserves some recognition on my page. ( 3 ) Feedback of any kind is welcomed. Happy reading! ❤

Known affectionately as Lost Angeles, the last true and vast surviving city. 

Made up of Heaven and Hell, most commonly referred to as Above and Below. 

Why? Because, well, the latter was quite a ways down from the glimmering mega tower that you either hated with a passion, or desperately wanted to become a part of. 

Although, anyone with at least two working brain cells could see that Heaven was a cruel and sadistic facade ran by a dictator by the name of Silver. Its main purpose being to inflict fear upon those belonging to Below; a way to control them, a warning they were always forced to see no matter where they stood within the decaying city. 

This is why Noah chose to conduct the majority of his doings even further down, right in the underground of Below. 

“You want us to what?” 

A fit of laughter erupted from him, the three men standing a bit further back following suit with amusement of their own. 

“You've got to be fucking joking.” 

The older man’s face reddened with anger, his pudgy fingers rapping against the table top that separated him from them. This man in reference was Ulrik, a well known con man and loan shark that had a way of getting things done. Did you have a messy job you needed performed to completion? Ulrik was your guy, but always for a hefty price. 

This is how Noah knew he had to be truly desperate if he was outsourcing his jobs now. Or maybe he just needed to find someone stupid enough to agree to the suicide mission. 

“I was being nice by asking. Did you forget that you owe me a favor?” 

A heavy sigh was then expelled, his gloved hand lifting to rub his chin from over the black ski mask that covered the entirety of his head. It's the same mask the other guys wore as well, the one thing keeping their identities secret. 

It wasn't an odd thing to see. People of Below were known to wear masks - some more simple, others terribly intricate - solely because it kept them safe from the debris and dust that was constantly floating through the air. Wearing them inside was a little less popular. 

“I'll even make it easier for you,” Ulrik continued with a toothy grin that was riddled with bits of gold. “There's a girl-”

“A girl?” Noah repeated, brows raised beneath the mask. 

“Yes, a girl. She can help you get in and out of the Tower. She's smart. Does work for me sometimes.” 

Another laugh was pulled from him, followed by a roll of his eyes. Noah leaned back casually in his chair, though his hands remained clasped atop the table. He was staring the man down, silently daring him to feed him bullshit one more time. 

“Cut the shit, ‘Rik. Everyone knows you don't just enter the Tower and then live to tell the tale when you don't belong there. People go up, but they never come down.” 

Ulrik’s grin lingered, becoming more and more smug by the second. 

“Ah, you see, that's where you're wrong. She has gone both up and down.” 

× × ×

Seven wasn’t exactly where he was expecting to end up that night. He stared up at the neon-lit business front, flashing signs indicating the purchase of companionship, while others promised music and dancing. He had passed by the building many times, but never stepped foot inside. Tales of the happenings inside ran rampant, though. From what he gathered, it wasn't a place for the faint of heart.

“I can't believe you agreed to this shit.” 

Noah glanced over to Nicholas as he took a deep drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground. The motion was followed with a shrug, his expression remaining blank. 

“I agreed to us talking to the girl. I never agreed to us taking the job.” 

“When it comes to Ulrik, you may as well have signed our lives away.” 

That could've possibly been true, but Noah was going to give the man the benefit of the doubt. Maybe nothing would come of this visit. Maybe he would let them turn the job down. Maybe they'd laugh it off together. Or maybe all of them would end up with their tongues cut out. 

Noah didn't say anything else before taking long strides up to the building, Nick trailing begrudgingly behind him. Despite the masks still covering their faces, the rather large and buff man at the door nodded them in. If they looked like buyers, then there was no issue. 

…now he wasn't so sure what that said about them. 

Inside of Seven was dark, the only source of light coming from the red and blue LEDs sporadically placed around. It was cleaner than he was expecting, but there was still a sharp scent in the air that led him to believe strong cleaning products were used on the regular. Noah didn't want to think about what they could possibly be cleaning in depth so often. 

“Hey there, handsome.” A woman cooed almost as soon as they walked into the main area, her hand grazing along his chest as she sauntered by. She didn't pause to entice them in, though. Probably because she could sense their lack of engagement due to his skill of avoiding eye contact, and basically acting like she wasn't there to begin with. 

Stepping deeper in, Noah was on high alert. He looked to every corner, studied every face, and noted every exit that could be seen. Never know when you'd have to make a quick getaway. 

The music playing throughout had a deep bass to it; one of those dark wave tracks that was supposed to sound sexy, but it only bored him. Dolled up women were seen with every sweep of his gaze, as well as desperate men looking for someone to force their fantasies on. A few of the women were encased in large metal cages, their bodies moving rhythmically to the songs playing. 

Yeah, this place definitely screamed ‘Below’. It was gritty and filthy - in the kinky sort of way. Depraved was possibly a better word for it. 

“Hey,” Noah called out to a man who stood to the side with his hands clasped in front of him. He was obviously security, so hopefully that meant he could point them in the right direction. 

“We’re looking for a girl that goes by Scarlett. You know where we can find her?” 

Macho security man took one look at them and shook his head. 

“Ah, come on!” Noah grinned beneath the mask with his attempt at being inviting. “A friend of mine said she was the best. I just want to try her out for myself.” 

Fuck - how badly he wanted to gag and cringe at his own words. 

“If you don't know which girl she is, then she isn't the girl for you. Now fuck off.” 

Noah figured it was best to not argue with security, so he took a few steps back and then turned to Nick. “The hospitality here is something to be desired.” 

“Why don't we just take a look around? Maybe one of the other girls will point her out.” 

Just as Noah was about to agree, a sweet voice cut through the atrocious music that was still thumping ridiculously loud through the club. 

“Did you say Scarlett?” 

Both him and Nick simultaneously turned towards the voice, only to see that it belonged to a girl in one of the cages. Her manicured fingers gripped the bars as she kneeled down to their level, eyes bouncing back and forth between them both. 

“You know her?” 

The girl's fair shoulders gave a shrug, though she smiled when she briefly locked her gaze with his. 

“Everyone knows Scarlett.” 

The girl was running a hand up and down along one of the bars that separated them. Noah assumed this was a way to entice the desperate men in, leading them to think of her hand wrapped around their unsavory dicks and not the metal. 

“Hi, pretty eyes.” Her focus was now on Nick, which didn't surprise him. Even with the masks, he was sure Nick appeared nicer than he did. Someone that would be easier to talk to. Easier to butter up. 

Leaning in closer to the bars, her hands spread across to widen her grip, showcasing her cleavage that was popping out from the skimpy top she wore. Noah knew the games, and he knew Nick did too, but that wasn't going to stop his friend from falling for it. Hard. 

“What will it take for you to introduce us to her?” 

The girl smirked, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she thought. 

“Buy a private room for an hour. Ask specifically for number thirteen.” She tore her gaze from Nick to look over to him, obviously showing no shame in the way her eyes raked up and down his tall stature. “I'll make sure she's there.” 

With that, she stood up to her full height and made a motion to the side which prompted someone to unlock the cage. 

“Go on,” she smiled at them before she could exit, shooing them away to a cashier. 

“Ulrik better fucking reimburse us for this.” Noah grumbled while already beginning to pull the cash from his pockets. 

× × ×

Room thirteen was on the second floor and sat at the very end of the hall. He assumed this was the most private of all the rooms, merely from the location alone. While making their way to it with the key clutched in his grasp, he could hear all the unpleasant things happening beyond the other doors they passed. Most sounded like noises of enjoyment but there were some that reminded him of pure torture. Those were the ones he didn't want to think too hard about. They had a task at hand, and worrying about what 'paying customers’ did was not it. 

As they entered the room, all outside noises suddenly stopped upon closing the door. That sure was interesting. He shook his head, cautious steps then being taken further into the room. It was reminiscent of a hotel room, but not as luxurious. There was a bed, a dresser, and a darkened doorway which he assumed led to a bathroom. 

“This is fucked,” he murmured with a glance to Nick who had just plopped down into a chair that sat in the corner. 

“Do we know anyone that comes to these sorts of places?” 

Noah chuckled, his head ducking a bit in an attempt to see if he could inspect behind the mirror attached to the dresser. It was easy to assume that they were being watched and listened to. 

“I doubt it, unless you mean know like how we know Ulrik. My guess is he's a big spender here.” 

A gloved hand ran along the seam of the mirror pressed to the wall, looking it up and down suspiciously. Did each room have a camera? Or just some perverted guy sitting behind a two way mirror monitoring their doings? Either way, he fucking hated the feeling of being watched. 

“What are you doing?” 

Well, that voice surely didn't belong to Nick. 

His eyes flickered up to the door of the room that was being closed, the same girl from the cage standing in the entryway. 

“There's a reason why I told you guys to request this room. No cameras. No mics.” 

There was something different about the girl now - other than the fact that she had covered herself in a black silk robe that hit the top of her thighs. Was it that her voice wasn't as sweet? Her eyes a little more piercing? Or had she just completely dropped the act now that they were behind closed doors? 

“Where's Scarlett?” Noah ignored her initial question, instead choosing to respond with one of his own. He didn't have the time or patience to play this game. 

The girl arched a brow, her eyes brightening with a hint of amusement. She walked by where he stood, then bent at the waist when she was at the end of the dresser. From the bottom drawer she produced an unlabeled bottle, as well as three glasses which she placed atop the dresser. 

“I think she is Scarlett…” Nick spoke up, still seated. 

With a widening grin, the girl put her fingertip to her nose and looked back to Nick from over her shoulder, the same finger shifting to point his way. “Good job, pretty eyes. I'm glad at least one of you can put a two-piece puzzle together.” 

A glass of amber liquid was extended to him, which he had no choice but to take upon her forcing it to his chest. He noted that she was much more gentle when offering an identical drink to Nick, the other being kept for herself.

“Before anything else is said, I'm going to need you guys to take the masks off.” 

Noah immediately shook his head. “That's not happening.”

An intense look was sent his way from Scarlett. Her hand was on her hip, heel-clad feet carrying her closer to him. 

“Either you take off the masks or we're done here.”

SCARLETT

“Well?” Her brows quirked as she stepped around the tall one, slow motions being taken closer to the one with the clear blue-grey eyes. She was already more fond of him. 

“Just do it,” he exhaled, quickly pulling his mask off as if he was ripping a band-aid free in one swift motion. 

Mumbles of aggravation came from the tall one, but she knew he had done the same based on the sounds of shuffling around and the way his mask was then tossed to the edge of the bed. When she glanced back to him, he was working his fingers through his hair, but that wasn't what caught her attention 

“Hold on…you guys are Entertainers?” Scarlett’s eyes went wide with excitement, her sights going back and forth between the two of them again. The guys said nothing, though they shared a silent look with each other that had her interest piqued. 

“Ulrik failed to mention that when he told me I'd have visitors.” 

“That's because Ulrik doesn't know. That's also how it's going to stay, got it?” 

Entertainers were some of the most important people, both Above and Below. They had a way of controlling the masses and getting messages out, especially these specific Entertainers she was currently in the company of. If anyone was to know they were in cahoots with someone of the likes of Ulrik, they would probably disappear in a snap. 

“Are you always so feisty?” Scarlett shook her head as she brought her drink to her lips. 

“Since you recognize us, does that mean you've seen our shows?” 

Nodding, she reached over to lightly drag her fingertip along the seated one’s jaw. His bright eyes lifted to meet with hers and she instantly graced him with a sweet smile. 

“A few times, actually. Let's just say…I'm all about your scene.” 

The scene she spoke of being one that was kept hush hush, all because of their leadership in the powers that wanted to overthrow Above. Not everyone was privy to this information, though. To be a part of it meant sure death. 

“Listen, Scarlett, that's not why we're here. Ulrik told us to come talk to you, see what you could do to help us with this job he has, so we can decide if we're going to take it or not.”

“Oh, honey, if you're here talking to me then you've already taken the job.” 

Although she was addressing the tall one on the opposite side of the room, her sights remained set on this sweeter one she had taken much more of a liking to. 

“Do you think you just happened to run into me by chance downstairs? No. I knew you were coming, that's why I was on the floor to begin with. Just waiting for the guys with an ‘air of arrogance' to arrive.” 

Scarlett looked back to the tall guy, her eyes drinking him in again. She was well aware of the perplexed expression he wore as he studied her, obviously trying to figure her out. Jokes on him, because he would never be able to. 

“You two have names?” 

“Nicholas,” her favorite almost immediately revealed. “Nick.”

“Fucking seriously?” The unknown guy hissed, now looking at him in disbelief. “You're just going to drop your name like that all because you're hypnotized by her tits?” 

Scarlett rolled her eyes in annoyance. 

“My eyes are pretty nice too, but don't get your panties in a twist. You need something from me, correct? So, how can you trust me with that if you don't even trust me with your name?” 

This got him to shut up for a second because he knew she was right. Something told her that he didn't like being the one who wasn't. His arrogant demeanor wasn't exactly her favorite quality about him, but she was going to let it slide this time. All because of her own curiosities. 

“Noah,” he finally answered after a long pause of silence had settled between them. 

“Can we just cut to the chase? No more of your seductive cage dancer bullshit. We bought the room - you - to talk, not to play little games.” 

Scarlett retracted her touch from Nick, her body language immediately shifting to defensive mode. She was finding it harder and harder to play nice when it came to this Noah jackass. 

“Not that it's any of your business but I'm not a cage dancer and I'm not for sale.” Her eyes narrowed at him in a silent warning, though she still found her way in front of him despite how badly she wanted to drop him on his ass. 

“That know-it-all attitude of yours is going to leave you dead one day. So if I were you, I'd compose myself a little more, especially when you're asking someone for help.” 

She could tell that he wanted to say something else, but she continued before he could. 

“Sit down and shut up. I don't want to hear another peep from you until I say. I'll be directing my attention and questions to Nick.” 

Scarlett motioned to him, her smile returning as she did. She was going to show Noah that you could catch more flies with honey than vinegar, so maybe he could learn a lesson or two to take home with him to resonate on. 

“Now, Nicky, why don't you tell me about this job Ulrik has so kindly signed you up for?” She sat on the edge of the bed closest to the chair he remained perched in. Her back was straight, one leg crossed over the other, and her focus was now solely on him. 

Nick took in a deep breath before tilting his head back to down what remained of the liquor in his glass. He grimaced slightly, just enough to bring a genuine smile to her lips at the sight. 

“He wants us to break into the Tower.”

Scarlett slowly nodded since she had already gathered as much. “Is…that it?”

“No…” Nick shook his head. “Once in the Tower, he wants us to cut the power to it permanently and then kill Silver.”

It felt as if someone had punched her right in the gut, that's how strong the shock was when she heard his words. Had Ulrik lost his goddamn mind? 

“He wants you to kill Silver? President Silver? The man who runs Silver Life Industries, also known as the company that provides every-fucking-thing we lay our eyes on?” 

The destruction included. 

Nick could only nod and when she glanced back at Noah, he had his elbows propped up on his knees with the heels of his hands digging into his eyes. It was obvious that they knew how ridiculous it sounded. Not to mention how dangerous it was. Hell, this was the only room in Seven not bugged and even she started feeling nervous that someone could hear them. 

“Well…shit.” 

“Can you help us or not?” 

Scarlett wanted to scold Noah for speaking before she allowed him to, but with the situation that was just dropped into her lap, she no longer cared about his manners. 

“I mean…yeah, I can get you guys into the Tower, but you have to survive to actually make it out too.” 

“Perfect. All we needed to know.” Noah dropped his hands to his knees in a slap then stood from the opposite corner of the bed he had claimed. The mask was tugged back over his face and adjusted properly, thus signaling to Nick that it was time for them to go. 

“How do we get in touch with you?” Nick questioned after mimicking Noah's motions, both of their identities now concealed. 

Scarlett smiled before opening the door, a rush of mixed noises immediately assaulting their ears.  

“I'll find you.” 

× × ×

And find them she did, although nearly a week later. 

It definitely wasn't her fastest work, but a lot had been on her mind since their little meeting at Seven. Not to mention the guys had done a pretty good job at not leaving much of a trace of themselves in the outside world. Unless you knew the right people to talk to, which she did. 

Scarlett had been a little nervous when taking the rickety elevator down to the lower level of the apartment building they resided in. It's where she had been told they spent most of their time because it was secluded and away from the prying eyes and ears of those watching from Above. 

Thinking back on it now, maybe she should've announced herself before waltzing into their glorified man cave. This thought came to her as she stepped off the death trap of an elevator, only to immediately feel the cool barrel of a gun pressed to the back of her head. 

“Who the fuck are you?” 

When she didn't answer right away, the gun was cocked as a final warning. The sound alone sent a chill down her spine, but she still released a huff as if annoyed by the hold up. 

“Are all of you this paranoid?” 

The gun was nudged against her head, his prior question silently being asked again. 

“Scarlett,” she then answered, though the gun remained firm in place. 

“Don't know a Scarlett.”

“And I don't know why I'm being held at gunpoint, yet here we are. Both of us confused.” 

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Jolly! Gun down!” 

There was a rush from behind her and then the loaded weapon was no longer pressed to her head, but instead decocked and set aside based on what sounds she could pick up. 

Bickering began to unfold, something about them explaining to him who she was a few days ago, him claiming he didn't remember, then a few soothing phrases and words were exchanged to calm the trigger happy man down. 

Scarlett glanced back during the altercation, seeing that it was Nick lightly touching the guy's shoulder as another unknown male stood a bit off to the side. Noah was nowhere to be seen but that was okay. She was only popping by to show her face and obviously let it be known that they weren't super hard to track down. 

“I'll send a carrier pigeon next time telling you guys I'm stopping by,” she joked once Nick was making his way over to her. “Maybe avoid a bloodbath.” 

“I would say ‘sorry’ for him…but you are the one intruding. How the hell did you get past the locks, by the way?” 

For a moment she was confused by his question, but then remembered the coded pin pads she had easily bypassed to even open the elevator doors. “Oh,” she waved the confusion off, laughing. “It wasn't exactly the hardest of programs to crack. You guys should probably get someone better to handle that for you.” 

Nick squinted at her, his smile wavering. “I set those locks…”

Damn. She couldn't remember the last time she had truly been embarrassed, but this was definitely going to remain fresh in her mind for a while. 

“Right…well…I'll have to give you some pointers.” 

“What are you doing here?” 

Scarlett smiled at his sudden change of topic. She found herself taking a slight step closer to him, pleased to be able to clearly see his eyes without dim or harsh lights drowning out the color. 

“Not happy to see me, Nicky?” 

Nick took in a deep breath, those eyes of his trailing her up and down unabashedly. “No…no…seeing you has definitely been a highlight…” 

Grinning, she reached out to lightly touch his cheek, just before her eyes shifted to the guys lingering not far back. 

“Are you going to introduce me?” 

“Shit, right.” Nick cleared his throat, his body turning so he could carry himself closer to his friends. While Scarlett did recognize them from the shows she had attended, it was still best that he initiated the exchange of their names. 

Did she already know them? Maybe. 

“Scarlett, this is Jolly, and I promise he isn't as quick to pull the trigger as you may think.”

“Clearly, since I'm still alive,” she taunted. 

“And this strapping young man is also Nick, but we call him Folio. So, yeah…this is Scarlett, the girl Ulrik told us about.” 

Jolly scoffed as he examined her with what appeared to be great frustration. 

“This little sparkle fairy is supposed to be the one helping us? My foot is bigger than her!” 

“Sparkle fairy?” She repeated with a look of distaste for the term. 

“I'm sure my foot can cause more damage too!” 

Now this caused her eyes to narrow, jaw setting into a firm clench. What is it with men and their need to always underestimate her? Most of the time it didn't bother her too much because it typically worked out in her favor when they did, but sometimes - like now - it truly pissed her off. Here she was, offering her services and also her time, and it was unappreciated. 

“Do you want to test that theory out? I have no issues with shattering every bone in your foot with my own goddamn heels.” 

Jolly appeared taken back for a moment, but a smile then pulled at his lips and he was wagging his finger in her direction. “Never mind. I like her.” 

“Same…but she's a little scary…” Folio murmured under his breath as he and Jolly led the group to a sitting area. 

“Just some knowledge to place upon you,” Nick called out to Folio while dropping his hand to his shoulder. “All women are scary.”

This made her smile, another slight laugh leaving her. “I always knew you were the smart one.” 

A few more steps and they were within an area that held mismatched chairs, rugs, and other random decor pieces. It was obvious that the guys grabbed whatever they could that was still in decent condition, and she didn't blame them. Sometimes it was the simple things that were hard to come by nowadays. 

“No Noah?” She questioned as she dropped her bag onto one of the random chairs, this one being a deep green color. 

“He said he was going down to the corner store but that was…” Nick glanced at the others, “maybe about an hour ago.” 

“Well, I guess it's a good thing this was more a social call than actual planning. Pretty much just needed to see what - and who - I'd be working with.” Her eyes drifted between all three of them, lips pursed as she sized them up. Scarlett had a knack for reading people. Very rarely was she incorrect in her assumptions. 

The point of her nail angled towards Jolly, slowly nodding. “I'm guessing you're the muscle, yeah? Good with weapons, intimidating, a pretty decent shot.” 

Scarlett didn't give them a chance to respond before she was moving on to the next. Her focus fell to Nick, immediately giving him a sweet smile as she had done consistently now. 

“The kind of guy that knows his way around tech…probably the smartest one in the room but doesn't like to show it…voice of reason.” 

Their eyes remained locked for a long moment, though she looked away first before anyone could question it. The reddening of his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by her, though. 

“And Folio…the wild card. Every good group has one. Never know what you're gonna do next, but it somehow always works out to be helpful.” 

“Damn…are you psychic?” Folio asked, his eyes wide with awe for her little party trick. 

Before she could reply, a different voice cut through. 

“Guess that makes me the asshole leader.” Noah strolled in and paused a few feet from her. He crossed his arms over his chest, letting her know that he was trying his best to make himself look bigger. An intimidation technique, obviously. 

“Arrogant, bossy, doesn't know when to quit…”

“The one who ends up getting someone killed.” Scarlett quickly snapped, her head whipping around to show him just how serious her expression was. “Not yourself, though. No, you're the one who gets to live with the guilt of his pretentious, pompous attitude being the reason a friend doesn't make it out alive.” 

NICHOLAS

The room grew so quiet that he was convinced you could hear a pin drop. He was looking at Noah, at Scarlett, and then back to Noah, studying the way they now glared at one another. His best friend appeared as if he wanted to explode (verbally? physically? both?), but he was doing the best he could at holding onto his composure. 

Flexing his shoulders backwards, Noah gave a single nod. Seconds later, he was disappearing to the other side of the room where he could slip through a typically concealed doorway that led to their makeshift studio area. 

“I'll draw up a plan and see you guys in a couple of days, yeah?” 

Scarlett was smiling again as if nothing had happened but he could pick up on the slight waver in her voice. That had him curious. 

Unfortunately, she was gathering her belongings and strutting away before he could even stand from his seat. 

“Hey, Sca-” Nick rushed to his feet to try to stop her, but she was gone. The sound of the elevator doors closing rang in his ears - a reminder that they really needed to fix that. 

“Shit, she's brutal.” Jolly shook his head. “I still like her, though.” 

Nick heavily exhaled while turning on his heel, now heading back the other way to where Noah had slid away. He found him sitting at the old, out of tune piano, lightly pressing random keys as if just testing the sound. 

“Maybe I should just do this alone.”

That was the last thing Nick had been expecting to hear. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“No, Nick, she's right. I should've told Ulrik to 'fuck off’. It's my fault we’re in this, and I'm not going to let anyone else die because of me.” 

Nick could sense how heavy those words were for him to say. He could hear it. He could feel it. They were all still mourning in their own way, though Noah’s preferences were a little more on the self destructive side. 

“You've completely lost it if you think any of us are going to let you do this alone.” 

Despite his statement being true, he couldn't bring himself to tell Noah that he was wrong for experiencing guilt and blame that he placed on himself. Things had happened in the past because of him. Nick figured it was best to not outright say this, though. 

“Fuck!” Noah abruptly growled, his hands slamming down on the piano keys with such force that a couple remained permanently sunken in. 

“Why do you always have to be so fucking understanding and loyal? Why can't you for once just tell me I'm a piece of shit? Huh, Nick?”

How the hell had this suddenly become an attack on him? 

“I know you're thinking it. Jolly and Folio obviously are too. Shit, even your girlfriend read me like a fucking children's picture book.” 

“What? Scarlett isn't my-”

“Obviously, Nick. A girl like her?” Noah snorted a laugh. “She would rip you to pieces.” 

Nick stared at the back of his best friend’s head, since he had refused to turn around since their conversation began. There was a lot he wanted to say, but he swallowed every harsh word because he knew Noah would regret this by the next day. That's just how things went with them nowadays. 

“Y’know, maybe Scarlett was right about some things. Your attitude will be your downfall.” 

× × ×

The last thing he wanted right then was for Noah to be right. He refused to let that fucker wear a smug smile while muttering 'I told ya so’ to him. Why was he so quick to assume Scarlett would get the better of him? All because he was nice? Because he knew how to smile? Because he didn't need to be a broody asshole day after day? 

Nick wouldn't let himself believe that. 

Taking in a deep breath, he shook his hands out to rid the nerves, then he pressed the faintly glowing blue button on the outside of the door. There was nothing for a long moment, so long that he almost walked away, but as he was considering it, the door creaked open slowly. 

“Nick? What…how did you find me?”

Not even seeing Scarlett’s face right then could calm him. Although, the fact that she recognized him within less than a second while he was wearing his mask did make his heart swell a bit. 

“It took you how long to find where we were?” He cracked a slight smile. “Just had to show you how it's done.” 

Even through her confused expression, he could see a smile threatening to appear and overtake her stoic demeanor. Nick was praying that meant she was at least a little happy to see him - invited or not. 

He watched as she contemplated silently to herself before finally taking steps back and widening the entryway for him. 

“Wait…don't go any further.” After closing and securing the door with multiple locks, Scarlett’s form rushed by him so she could begin pulling the curtains closed around the living room. The area darkened significantly, though he understood why she was being cautious. 

“I'd rather not become Above’s nightly entertainment,” she explained once she was turning to face him, her arms loosely crossed over her chest in what he could assume was another one of her infamous defensive stances. 

SCARLETT

Why was her heart racing right then? 

Why was Nick in her home? 

Why was he looking at her like that?

Before she could verbalize any of these questions, he was tugging the black mask off his head and shaking his fingers through his hair. 

“You shouldn't be here…” she softly murmured, the nerves setting in. “It's not safe for either of us.” 

Scarlett desperately wanted to tell herself to ‘shut the hell up’ because having him there actually felt nice. Her apartment wasn't so lonely for once. It was going to be a fleeting feeling and she knew this, but what was so wrong with enjoying it while she could? 

Oh, right, the high risk of death. 

Nick nodded in agreement, but instead of turning and leaving like she was expecting him to, he actually took fast steps over to her. His rough hands grabbed her face within them and he leaned down as far as he needed to, to force his lips hard against hers. 

The shock of the kiss nearly knocked the breath out of her, but she was able to recover almost instantly before he got the wrong idea from her reaction. It took about the same amount of time for Nick to soften the claim his lips had made on hers. Scarlett wasn't going to let that slide. 

As they engaged in their yet-to-be-broken kiss, her hands ran up along the length of his waist and over his arms where she could briefly grip his wrists. Since he had just come in from outside, he was wearing far too many layers that were used to shield him from the elements. So, she quickly went to work at ridding him of them. 

First, his jacket was pushed from his shoulders, followed by the secondary lighter one he wore beneath it. Nick graciously helped her, eagerly tugging at the sleeves and tossing each article of clothing aside. She couldn't help but to smile against his lips since she found his excitement to be cute. 

Scarlett released a slight sound of surprise as he gripped beneath her thighs and lifted her up into his arms, forcing her back into the wall. Her legs secured around his waist, pressing herself right against where she could feel the growing bulge in his dark jeans. 

“Someone's excited…” she taunted, her breathing heavy after parting from the kiss. Nick’s lips were flushed red, pupils dilated as he stared directly at her. Her thumb swiped along his lower lip, gently soothing the tier from where her teeth had sunken in at some point. She swore she saw his eyes darken just before his lips were crashing to hers again. 

Scarlett moaned, her fingers working back into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. He must've liked this, because next thing she knew he was pressing himself firm between her thighs, grinding against her aching core. The sensation caused her to shiver, legs then tightening around him in an attempt to bring him in closer. Nick’s grip on her thighs embedded deeper and now it was his turn to break from her lips, just so he could begin trailing hot kisses along her neck and the front of her chest. 

“Nicky…” she breathed out to gain his attention. That's all it took for him to detach himself from her skin, his bright eyes lifting to meet with her own. “I should probably tell you that I'm not looking for anything serious.” 

The man she was currently wrapped around was sweet and she knew he had a good head on his shoulders, anyone would be lucky to have him, but these days…it wasn't that simple anymore. 

His eye searched hers as he carefully lowered her back down to her feet, though he didn't move away from her. Actually, he pressed his body flush against hers, trapping her between himself and the wall. Scarlett smirked, her hands slipping beneath the shirt he wore so she could feel the heat of his bare skin. 

“I know,” he nodded while his hand smoothed along her jaw and to the back of her neck. “That's fine.” 

To her, that was a green light to continue. 

Scarlett pressed up onto her tip toes so she could kiss him again, just before she placed her hands flat against his chest and pushed him back. Grabbing his shoulders, she guided him to the couch and forced him down into a seated position. Nick’s hands instantly attached to her hips as he gazed up at her with a smile, though his obvious desire for her was still present in his eyes. 

Grasping his shirt, she pulled it off in a swift motion and tossed it back to be tended to later. Despite his hands eagerly beginning to lift the dress she wore, Scarlett sent a look his way that caused him to immediately stop, though his touch didn't leave her body. 

“You listen well,” she taunted. “I like that.” With a lingering smirk, she gently nudged his hands away so she could slip her own beneath her dress, her panties being pulled down for her to step out of. 

Nick watched her for a moment, but then began fumbling with the belt he wore, followed by the button and zipper of his jeans. He really was just so fucking cute. Most people she had been with in the past always tried to play it way too cool, making it appear as if they really didn't give a shit about what was happening. But Nick? Well, he clearly had no issue with showing his excitement. 

Stepping back to him, her hands slowly ran up the expanse of his thighs. Nick took in a sharp inhale as she grazed the obvious bulge that was straining in his jeans, the reaction causing her to arch a brow. 

“Sensitive?” Her smirk widened when he cursed under his breath but ultimately nodded in response. 

Scarlett gently pressed the heel of her hand into him before her fingers began to massage his lengthening hard on over the fabric. Her eyes fixated on his face, joyfully watching the change in his expression as his hips bucked up into her palm and his brows knitted together. 

“If I wasn't so eager to have you, I'd make you cum just like this…” she softly threatened. 

Nick heavily breathed out at this, his frustrations quite apparent. She understood how maddening it could be because she was feeling it as well. The only difference was that she had a bit more composure than he did, though only because she had claimed the dominance between them. At least this time. 

Hiking her dress up, she situated herself on his lap in a straddling position. She was lifted up onto her knees so she could further undress him, now moving faster than she previously had been. Scarlett dragged his jeans and boxers down as far as necessary, allowing his cock to spring free at full attention. 

Then, she was positioning herself over him with the guidance of his hands, but she didn't yet drop herself down. 

“You've been thinking about this since the moment you saw me at Seven, haven't you?” Scarlett hovered right over the swollen head of his cock, only allowing him to feel the heat her cunt radiated. His grip on her hips tightened in anticipation, jaw clenching from how she was dragging this out. 

“I bet you've imagined how wet I'd be for you…how tight…what sort of noises you'd get me to make…”

Closing the space between them by only a few centimeters, she briefly shut her eyes when she felt the tip nudging against her soaked entrance. It took all of her self control to not just fully give in because Nick felt better already than even she had imagined. 

So what if she had spent a night or two cumming around her fingers to the thought of him? 

“Are you going to let me find out?” Nick retorted with a smirk of his own, his hips shifting slightly as he attempted to press up into her. He probably thought he was successful in this, but Scarlett had let it happen, both of them gasping in unison when the head of his cock buried further. 

Leaning in, she began to kiss along his jaw as her hands shifted back to grip the top edge of the couch. She was slowly taking him in now, stroking herself up and down while engulfing his cock inch by inch. 

“Fuck…you feel amazing.” Nick groaned, a twitch of his cock reiterating his words. 

His fingers then flexed along her hips and she was suddenly being forced all the way down, his hips lifting simultaneously. A loud moan echoed through the room, easily drowning out the sound of his own groans. Scarlett bowed her head into the crook of his neck, heavily breathing from the rush of ecstasy that radiated through her. Her cunt tightly clenched around his throbbing shaft as she tried to quickly adjust. 

Nick pushed the thin fabric of her dress up while they remained flush together so he could fully expose her body to him. One hand slid up her abdomen and between her breasts as the other returned to her hip, eagerly trying to guide her hips along. 

It took a moment, but she was finally able to get her bearings and find a proper rhythm. Breathy moans escaped between them once she was sliding up and down his cock with a newly established ease. Each drop of her hips had the tip stroking along just the right spot, causing her to arch her lower back in a desperate need to feel more. 

“Nicky…oh!” She gasped, her mouth falling opening and her hips briefly stuttering atop his. “Yeah, just like that…”

Scarlett nodded when his tattooed hands assisted in lifting her up and down, forcing her harder into his lap with every downward motion. 

Tossing her hair aside, a hand released the back of the couch so she could grab his jaw. Nick’s eyes were forced up to hers where she held his gaze, just so he could see how fucking good he was making her feel. Something about the eye contact must've really done it for him, because his grip shifted back to her ass to keep her up so he could drive himself up into her aching pussy at a rapid pace. The action caused the entirety of her body to tense and her breath to stall, the pleasure nearly too much. 

“I'm going to cum…” Scarlett again nodded. She dropped a hand between her thighs to begin rubbing her clit in fast circles, the act immediately drawing Nick's eye down. Watching him watch her, as well as the sight of his cock disappearing up into her petite body again and again, had her right there. 

Only a couple of more thrusts from him beneath her and her cunt was erupting around him, briefly causing her composure to break. Scarlett had to latch onto his shoulder with her teeth to keep herself from crying out his name too loud - they couldn't draw too much attention. His arms circled around her waist to hold her in close as her entire being trembled and quaked with her orgasm. 

Nails raked down his arms, involuntarily marking him before she even realized she had. Oh well. Maybe Nick liked the slight pain that came from it, though, because his own hips jerked after he demanded her pussy remain with his cock buried as deep as possible. 

“Shhh,” she soothingly hushed him, a hand immediately flying up to cover his mouth to muffle all the moans and profanities he was now expelling. Despite the need to keep quiet, Scarlett whimpered at the sensation of his cum overflowing and spilling out between them, mixing with her own small mess she had made. 

Once his body stilled, she slowly lowered her hand and instead covered his mouth with her own. They shared a desperate kiss, all eager tongues moving in sync with teeth clashing as they both tried to overtake the other. 

“You good?” Nick mumbled the best he could, receiving a nod from her in response. 

“Good.” 

In a swift motion, Nick had her on her back across the couch and he was driving himself between her thighs again. She stared up at him with wide eyes for only a second, utterly shocked by his ability to go again almost immediately, until the over-stimulation of him thrusting into her spent cunt clouded her mind. 

Scarlett suddenly didn't care anymore if her apartment neighbors heard them. Hell, she would rip her curtains down and let Above watch if that's what it took to make sure he didn't stop. 

Propped up on one elbow, his opposite hand began exploring her body. He grasped her neck for a moment, then dropped down to knead and massage her breast that was bouncing with each forceful snap of his hips. Scarlett’s noises spoke to her approval because words were impossible for her to come by right then. The smirk he wore showed his enjoyment in the sounds she made for him. 

Nick concluded his exploration when the pads of his fingers made contact with her swollen and overly sensitive clit. A simple touch made her hips twitch and attempt to retract, despite how good it felt at the same time. This didn't stop Nick, though. He sat up on his knees and pulled her in closer, driving in harder and faster while his thumb stroked her clit in time. 

Scarlett writhed in ecstasy beneath him, hips rolling up to meet with his, before she was suddenly cumming again. Her pussy gushed and quivered through her climax, to the point that she thought maybe she would pass out from the intensity. 

“That's it…you did so good.” Nick cooed, this being a side of him that was taking her completely by surprise. Had he not just been the more submissive between the two? Wasn't she supposed to be the one in control? 

Too bad she couldn't focus on that right now because she was too busy watching his face contort as he released inside of her once more. Nick’s head hung at a downwards angle once his hips stopped spasming, the only movement from him now coming from the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He groaned and his jaw clenched as he slowly pulled out, bringing forth a pout from her due to the lack of being filled. 

Sex had always been something Scarlett could go without for long periods, simply because there were always more pressing matters that needed tending to. Trying to survive was a daily task that took up most of her time, if she was being honest. But now? Well, now she figured she would have to drown herself in this job of theirs so as to not become carried away each and everyday she was around him. 

“We can't tell anyone about this,” she spoke up first after catching her own breath. 

Nick had shifted to the opposite end of the couch to regain normal brain function, his eyes settled on her. She wasn't sure how to read his expression, but he eventually nodded in agreement. 

“I'm serious, Nick. It could jeopardize everything.” 

Taking in a deep breath, Scarlett carefully sat up, her knees being pulled closer to her chest. He was then softly chuckling, head shaking at her comments. 

“You should work on your pillow talk,” he teased. “I mean…my cum is still in you as you're telling me this has to stay a secret.” 

Scarlett rolled her eyes, a decorative pillow soon being tossed his way once she had dislodged it from behind her back. “Shut up,” she demanded with a huff. 

Nick smiled despite being well aware of how serious she was about everything. It wasn't like he was going to go back and gloat to the guys about what they had just done because Scarlett knew he wasn't the type. He may have surprised her a bit towards the end there, but that didn't change what she already knew about him. 

“What about…?” He motioned between the two of them and their still fully exposed bodies. “Was this a one time thing?” 

Now that was a question she didn't have an answer for. She knew what she should say but it definitely wasn't what she wanted to say. 

“Let's just focus on keeping you and the others alive first.” 

[gallawitchxx]

weekly tag wednesday :)

thank you to @heymacy @energievie @stocious @deedala @spookygingerr

@lingy910y @mmmichyyy @ardent-fox & @sxltburn for tagging me! i love you all! xx

name: bee

age: thirty-one

your time zone: pacific standard time

what do you do for work? a witch who makes words appear out of thin air!!

do you have any pets? one small pup named gus <3

what first drew you to this fandom? i was fully obsessed with ian & mickey & started shoveling fics into my mouth faster than you can say soulmates. on ao3, i started to notice people's tumblr links in their end notes & started lurking hardcore. but everyone was so sweet & so nice & so fucking talented & before long i was forcing them all into friendship! zero regrets.

are you a morning person or a night owl? i used to be a night owl, but i think i'm a morning person now. yeesh.

what are your hobbies? writing words, reading books, watching true crime docs with my wife, playing with my pup, hanging with my pals... i used to do a lot of crafting, but i've been in an ebb.

how tall are you? 5'5”

if you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live? paris! the city of lights! the city of love! the city of winecheesebaguettes!

favorite color? eehh i don't really have one? turquoise, maybe?

favorite book? a tale of two cities by charles dickens

favorite movie? 10 things i hate about you

favorite fic? i could never pick just one! but my forever reads are like real people do by grayola, ball kings by youllneverrecme, the increasingly poor decisions of ian gallagher by shamelessquestions, love is a ballfield by and_i_take_it, the boyfriend experience by anomalously, dancing after death by squiddy & restoration by pink_ink *smooches them all*

favorite musical artist: i am the #1 fan of a singer who is sometimes in a band, but sometimes solo & i'm seeing him/them next week for the umpteenth time & i'm soooo excited!

what is your average screen time so far this week? no thank you :)

what's the first app you open in the morning? discord, where the pals live.

how long have you been on tumblr? since like 2013? but possibly before that idk

finally (and i know this one is hard) tell me a fun fact about yourself: i was an award-winning soloist in my high school jazz choir lol

hehehe tagging @heymrspatel @whatwouldmickeydo @metalheadmickey @whatthebodygraspsnot @howlinchickhowl

@crossmydna @thisdivorce @lupeloto @sickness-health-all-that-shit @palepinkgoat

@astaraels & @rereadanon if you want to play! if not, i'm gently kissing your foreheads! xx

[toon-tales]

Hiya! I'm back with another, as you can tell, Trolls fic, cause, well, you can never get enough, am I right?

Now, this one is a bit different cause it's the first time I write about something other than Broppy... DawnDory!

Anyway, reviews are always appreciated, enjoyyyy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perfect

"I'm sorry, Delta…"

"But… I thought you loved me…"

"I do! I really do! I just… I can't take any responsibilities right now, alright?"

"Am I really a burden to you?"

"It's not your fault, it's mine! I am the problem, not you!"

"You wanna be alone? Be alone."

—------------

John's eyelids flung wide, his form erupting into an upright stance with the suddenness of a thunderclap. He drew in the morning air, a deep, steadying torrent that filled his lungs, whispering a silent mantra to calm the tempest within. Inhale. Exhale. It was nothing more than a dream, a figment woven from the threads of a restless mind. A mere dream, he reassured himself, yet it clung to his consciousness with the vividness of reality.

He sighed as he leaned back against the cushions.

This was the day.

The turquoise-haired forced himself to his feet, grabbing the usual leather jacket and red goggles and getting ready for the day. He opened his bedroom door, the faint creek alarming his brothers of his presence. He walked in with slow, sluggish steps, yawning and stretching still. Bruce lazily got up to make him his plate, while Clay and Floyd only gave weak waves of their hands. Branch didn't even look up, as expected.

"Mornin', guys," John mumbled, taking a seat between the youngsters.

Then silence rang again in the room. Awkward silence, you can call it. But this wasn't new, things were different now, and the Brozone members have been trying to reconnect since the reunion. Even if it was a bit difficult at times.

"So," Clay was the first to speak. There was a small grin on his face as he muttered, "Which chapter are you in now?"

John's eyes lit up. "I don't remember, but it's the one where Charles gets arrested."

"First or second time?"

"He gets arrested again?!"

The lime-haired troll looked away with a slight cough. "Oops."

"Bro, you spoiled it!"

"I didn't know you read that slow!"

"That hurts, man…" the older said dramatically. "I read at my own pace."

Branch's eyes darted between his bickering brothers. "Tale of two cities?" he guessed. They nodded.

"Does he know that Sydney d-"

"No, no, no, no, no!" John covered his ears and closed his eyes. "I don't want any spoilers!"

Branch smirked, eyes still fixed on his meal. "So, Clay, how did you feel about the part where-"

"Stop it, Branch!"

The duo exchanged small smiles.

"So, what did you plan for tonight's party?" Bruce chimed in. "Poppy's counting on us."

And it seemed like the question summoned fire inside the eldest's eyes. "I made the ultimate playlist!" he exclaimed excitedly, vocalizing the' ultimate' for dramatic effect. "We'll burn the stage tonight!"

The other Brozone members exchanged knowing smirks.

—------------

"Now, we have blue cupcakes for the Techno trolls, red ones for the Rock trolls, and orange ones for the Country trolls, purple ones for Funk…" Poppy trailed off, trying to recall the colors that should be on the table. She was missing two. "And… who else?"

"Classic and Pop?" Branch suggested with a knowing smile.

"Oh, yeah!" The girl beamed. "We need yellow and pink cupcakes!" She made her way to the kitchen for the third time that day, her eyes scanning the counter for the familiar small vials. She let out a loud, "Found them!" as she held them in her hands.

Branch looked on as his girlfriend poured countable droplets of yellow in a batter-filled bowl then handed it to him while she stirred her own pink. His gaze darted between the two bowls. "You sure this much food coloring isn't unhealthy?" he asked.

She waved him off. "Branch, I eat tons of colorful cupcakes every day and I'm perfectly fine!"

"If you say so, then," he muttered, finally bringing the spoon back and forth between the mixture.

"Make sure you stir in the same direction." 

He nodded.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Poppy suddenly exclaimed, pulling out another bowl seemingly out of thin air. "I made some for you!"

The dull troll raised an eyebrow. "For me?"

"Mhm!" she hummed. "Zero food coloring and a teeny tiny bit of sugar! Just like you like it!"

"Oh…" He didn't expect that. "Thanks, Poppy."

Her smile widened. "So, how are things with your bros?"

"Good, I guess." Branch replied simply.

Poppy paused. This wasn't his usual calm tone. This was a sad one. "Hey, is everything alright?"

He nodded.

"Is… is Floyd getting worse or something…?"

"No, no," he quickly assured her, "It's John, actually…"

"John?"

"Yeah…" Branch stopped. He didn't know how to explain it. "He's been… off…"

"Off, how?" Poppy persisted.

"I don't know how to explain it… he's been acting weird since the day you told us you were throwing this party."

"Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"I did!" Branch exclaimed. "But he always brushes me off!"

"Maybe he just needs time." Poppy moved closer to her boyfriend, gently brushing the flour that had managed to stick to his cheek with her thumb before she went to grab the frosting. His hand was on the exact spot she had touched when she was placing a tray of the treat in front of him.

He slowly rested his palm on the tray, his cheek getting slightly cold as the breeze hit it again. "You think?" he asked in a small voice. Poppy nodded.

"You only began to open up to me a few months ago," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but… we're trying to reconnect, and he's not helping us."

Poppy pondered for a minute. "Maybe he's mad at something?"

"More like sad." He didn't even know he had this feeling about his brother.

—------------

Red like the berries he was holding was her hair.

A shade of green he didn't quite know the name of was her fancy tail. It was the same as his hair, though not really the same.

He smiled faintly when he stumbled upon another flower. Orange petals, deep green leaves, just like her skin and eyes. Now the palette in his head was complete.

Perfect, as he liked to call it.

Delta was perfect, unconditionally perfect, for some reason, and John sometimes found himself mesmerized by the effect the country troll had on him. Why did all the standards of 'Perfect' fall out when it came to her?

In the quiet moments of twilight, when the world seemed to hold its breath, John Dory's thoughts would invariably drift to Delta Dawn. She was a melody that lingered in the air long after the song had ended, a tapestry of colors in a world that often appeared monochrome to him. Her laughter was a symphony, her smile a beacon; she was the embodiment of a serenity he had known only in fleeting moments. It was in her presence that the cacophony of his insecurities fell silent, where the relentless pursuit of perfection seemed to pause, and for a moment, everything was enough.

John often pondered the enigma that was Delta. She was like the sun - radiant, life-giving, and yet, impossible to hold. Yet he had let her go when he had her in his amrs. She was the gentle pull of the moon on the tides of his heart, a force that moved him in ways he couldn't understand. Her spirit was untamed, a river that flowed with a purpose all its own, carving paths through the bedrock of his defenses. In her eyes, he saw the reflection of a man he could be, free from the chains of doubt that shackled him.

The day he left her was a day the music died within him. The colors of the world dimmed, and he wandered through life in a grayscale landscape, haunted by the ghost of her perfection. He had convinced himself that he was unworthy, that his flaws were canyons too vast to cross, that his love was too shallow to quench the thirst of someone so profound. Yet, in the solitude of his regret, he realized that Delta never sought perfection; she sought him, just as he was, with all his imperfections.

Delta was the dream he dared not dream, for fear it would crumble under the weight of reality. She was the question to which he had no answer, the puzzle whose pieces he held but couldn't place. In her absence, he learned that perfection wasn't a destination but a journey, one that they could have embarked on together, discovering the beauty in the imperfections that made them uniquely themselves.

Now, as the years have passed, the memory of her is a bittersweet refrain that echoes in the hollows of his heart, somehow still pulling him from the grips of a gray heart, a gray form. He now knows that it was not her perfection that he loved, but the way she made the ordinary extraordinary, the way she saw the world not as it was, but as it could be. And though she may never want to have a word with him, she remains the compass that guides him, the north star in the constellation of his life's journey.

For John, Delta Dawn will always be the one that got away, not because she was perfect, but because she was real. She was the love that slipped through his fingers like grains of sand, a reminder of what could have been if only he had been brave enough to hold on. And in every sunset, in every whisper of the wind, he hears the faintest trace of her song, calling him to remember, to hope, and perhaps, to love again.

And that's what he was going for.

Her love.

Her forgiveness.

—------------

He had to find her.

John's gaze wandered through the place, the lights being an obstacle with their blinding colors and hues. But he could swear he had just seen her. Where did she go? She was just there, right in front of him!

"Delta-"

"You're John Dory from Brozone, right?"

"Can I have an autograph?"

"Is it true you're making a performance tonight?"

A sea of questions, one the leader didn't quite know how to answer, or where to begin, for that matter.

"Yeah, yeah," he replied hastily, not sure what he was saying. His eyes were still on her-he lost her!

"Can you let me through?" It came out more furious than he had intended. But it went unnoticed by the small crowd around him, they were more focused on his frantic steps as he managed to escape the circle they had trapped him in.

"Where is she?" John muttered to himself, turning around like a madman as his eyes longed to spot the familiar red hair, or green tail, or-

"Looking for someone, John Dory?"

"Delta-" John's voice trembled as he turned around, his gaze locking onto the cascade of familiar fierce red hair that had haunted his dreams for years. The party around them seemed to fade into a hush, the laughter and music dimming into the background as he took a tentative step forward. His heart was a frenzied drummer, pounding against the walls of his chest with a mix of dread and longing. Years had passed, years filled with the echo of her name and the weight of his own insecurities that had driven him away.

And now he was facing her again.

"Delta, I–" he tried again, his voice stronger, but the words clung to his tongue, heavy with the gravity of what he needed to say. He needed her to know that not a day had gone by that he hadn't thought of her, that the void she left was as vast and as desolate as a night sky without stars.

Delta's arms were crossed in an impatient manner at this point. It only added to his anxiety.

He had rehearsed this moment, practiced the lines, but now they seemed inadequate, pale imitations of the torrent of emotions that threatened to overflow. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, that he was a fool, that he had let his insecurities dictate the course of a love that was meant to be timeless.

As he finally found the courage to hold her hands, the world around them seemed to pause, the air charged with the electricity of a moment that held the power to change everything. "Delta, please," he whispered, his voice laced with a vulnerability that he had never allowed himself to show. "I left because I was afraid–afraid that I wasn't enough, that I couldn't be the man you deserved."

The confession hung between them, a fragile bridge over a chasm of years and unspoken words. He saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes, the dawning realization of the depth of his regret. He didn't need to say more; the truth was there, laid bare for her to see, a silent plea for redemption.

He waited for words he hadn't yet spoken to sink into her, with bated breath and a hopeful heart, only to hear the words he had long feared to hear.

"I'm sorry, John." She turned away, ready to leave the past troll. But he was holding her wrist, silently begging her to stop, a touch she wanted to run away from yet found herself leaning into.

"Delta, please, just-"

"Just what, John Dory?" Delta's voice was a soft murmur, like the gentle babble of a brook, carrying years of unspoken words and emotions. "You left without a word, without a reason that I could understand. And now you return, speaking of mistakes as if they were pebbles on the road, easily kicked aside."

John looked at her, eyes a mirror of regret, reflecting the past they had shared, a past filled with music and laughter, now tinged with the silence of absence. "I know," he said softly, "but I'm here now, just give me a chance."

And seeing no attempt to speak from the girl, he went on, "Delta, I know I can't change the past, but I'm here to face it, to face you," John said, his voice steady but tinged with regret. "I left because I was afraid, afraid of how deeply I felt for you, afraid that I wasn't perfect."

"And here you go again with the perfect-"

"I'm changing, I promise I'm changing."

Delta's eyes searched his, looking for the sincerity that had been missing before. "John, love isn't about being perfect, it's about being real, being here," she replied, her voice softening.

"I know that now, Delta. And I'm here, real and raw and ready to be whatever we need to be," John reached out, hoping for a connection.

Delta hesitated, then allowed herself to lean into his touch. "We have a lot to work through, John. But maybe, just maybe, we can start with trust," she whispered.

John nodded, the relief evident in his eyes. "I want that, Delta. I promise, no more secrets between us."

"And I want to believe what you're saying," Delta said, a tentative smile forming, before it was replaced with a frown. "But I need more time."

John felt her grip slowly slipping from his, and he could swear the chills of the night started to turn his hands cold once again, now that their shelter wasn't here anymore.

The air was thick with the electric buzz of the party, a cacophony of laughter and chattering Trolls, but for John Dory, the world had narrowed down to the space between him and Delta Dawn. The music, a melody that once bound them in happier times, now played like a serendipitous plea for reconciliation. As Delta's fingers began to loosen their grip, a silent testament to the chasm his insecurities had wrought, John felt the weight of his past decisions anchoring him to a moment he wished to rewrite.

"Wait," he said, his voice barely a whisper over the music, but it reached her, a soft command. Delta paused, her fiery gaze locking with his, an entire conversation passing in the silence that enveloped them. Then a song swelled, a familiar tune they both knew, and in a move that surprised them both, John extended his hand once more. "Dance with me?"

It was a question, a hope, and why did she stop? Delta, whose heart had been a fortress, felt the walls tremble with the notes of her favorite song. It was as if the universe conspired to remind her of the rhythm they once shared, a dance of two souls intertwined by choice and chance. Her anger, justified as it was, began to ebb, replaced by a curiosity for the future they could still pen together.

She still loved him.

She hesitated, but a gentle, "Just like old times?" from her ex made her rethink the decision she was about to voice out loud.

She placed her hand in his, the party around them blurring into a whirl of colors and the other Trolls fading into the background. They moved to the music, a dance that was both a memory and a discovery, a blend of what was and what could be. John led with a gentle certainty he hadn't felt in years, and Delta followed, her movements a mix of hesitation and hope.

With each step, each turn, they wove a silent promise to listen, to understand, to forgive. The dance became a dialogue, their bodies speaking the words their voices had yet to find. And as the song reached its crescendo, John and Delta found themselves not at an end, but at a precipice of a new beginning, a chance to leap into the unknown, together. The music may fade, the party may end, but the dance, their dance, could well be eternal.

—------------

Branch was watching, nibbling on the special treat his girlfriend had made for him, and the two-person crowd he was looking at was none the wiser. John seemed happy, much to his surprise. He hadn't seen the usual mischievous smile for days, and something inside him was happy for his oldest brother. He didn't even realize Poppy was there until her lips made contact with his cheek.

"Hey," she said softly as she broke the sweet gesture, her plan having worked.

"Hey, you." Branch's attention was solely on her now. "Any news?"

"Do you like it?" she asked, pointing towards the cupcake in her boyfriend's hand. A simple nod, and she knew she had nailed it.

Then her face suddenly lit up. "Are you ready? Brozone's supposed to be on stage in, about, five minutes!" She looked around. "Where are your brothers?"

Branch's eyes scanned the place, not taking long before recognizing the familiar palette, minus one, scattered around the place. "Clay's with Viva, Floyd's with Satin, Bruce is probably in the kitchen, still checking on the food, I'm here…" He paused, looking ahead. "John's there."

The pink troll followed his gaze, and almost immediately, her face broke into a wide grin. "Wow, I didn't know John is so social."

"Neither did I." Though this was never how you would see two people who have just met dancing, though. "I don't think this is their first interaction."

"We didn't know other Troll tribes existed until only a few months ago."

"We have different pasts, Poppy." He smiled, faint as it was. "Maybe we didn't. Maybe he did. Who knows?"

She shrugged, climbing and sitting on the empty spot of the long table, making sure she was still near her partner. "Do you want me to postpone you and your brothers' performance?"

"That would be nice." Their fingers were intertwined, a gesture this time made by the male. "Thanks, Poppy." His gaze shifted to the couple dancing in the distance once more.

John Dory was happy.

[msunitedstatesjames]

Frances Hardinge is a criminally underrated author. If you've never heard of her, I'm not surprised. Even though I'm in several fantasy book groups on Facebook with thousands of members, I've only ever seen one or two other members post about her. And yet, since I first read one of her books in 2020, I've bought every book she's published and read most of them.

Frances Hardinge, for those who've missed out, writes fantasy young adult books. Her books are extremely well written, romance free, unfailingly unique, and somewhat dark, all of which are qualities I find to be more and more rare in today's YA fantasy market (not to hate on YA, I've read tons of it). If you need a comparison, I would say aspects of her books remind me of YA/middle grade books by T. Kingfisher or Neil Gaiman.

If I haven't convinced you yet, here's a little preview of some of her books that I've read:

A Face Like Glass (my personal favorite): A girl named Neverfell lives in a world where people have to be taught how to show emotion in their facial expressions. She has to wear a mask at all times because, mysteriously, she naturally shows facial expressions and if people found out they would freak. If that's not unique enough, this society is underground and produces magical artisinal goods, such as cheeses, wines, and perfumes that can do some wild things. If that still hasn't convinced you, the book critiques the privelege of the wealthy, as in this world only the rich can afford to hire Facesmiths to teach them expression, while the poor languish along with one or two facial expressions for their entire lives.

Fly by Night and Fly Trap (these might have different titles depending on where you are in the world): In a world where reading is illegal and seen as revolutionary activity, Mosca Mye escapes her awful life with her aunt and uncle by forcing an infamous conman (Eponymous Clent, this world has cool naming conventions) to take her under his wing. Joining them is Mosca's only friend, Saracen, the murderous goose. Yeah, you read that right. Highlights of the series include a heartwarming found family tale, an accidental revolution, a city that literally changes its population, personality, and shape when day changes to night, and, of course, an extremely violent goose. I mean, if you've read Pratchett, Saracen the goose is basically the Luggage. There's more than one scene in these books where all hope seems lost, and Mosca is like, "I guess it's up to you now Saracen," and she just straight up lobs her goose at the enemy and he utterly wrecks their shit. If I recall correctly, this happens once during a pitched river boat battle over an illegal printing press.

The Lie Tree: Faith's father, who refused to recognize her potential as a scientist, mysteriously dies. Faith discovers a tree he kept hidden that grows when you tell lies and reveals secrets in its fruit. The bigger the lie you tell the world, the bigger the secret that will be revealed. You can imagine the chaos that eventually ensues. This book critiques gender roles and discrimination, and tackles both the dangers and the necessity of telling lies.

Cuckoo Song: When Triss wakes up after apparently falling in a lake, everything seems wrong. She's missing memories, she has an insatiable hunger, dead leaves are mysteriously appearing in her room, and her sister claims she's a monster. Triss must piece together what's happening to her before it's too late. This book deals with the complexities of life with overbearing parents, siblings who've been pitted against one another, and families that have been torn apart by tragedy.

Verdigris Deep (another one that goes by different titles): A group of friends are cursed by a well witch after they take some coins from her well. She forces them to work for her by granting her wishes. Working with the witch gives them powers, but the wishes are getting increasingly complex. Does that guy really want a motorcycle or does he want to be someone else? And if he wants to be someone else, does that mean what he really wants is not to exist at all? This book deals with issues of self worth, power and control, and toxic friendships.

She has a bunch of other great books as well. So if you're looking for a unique fantasy story with adventure and no romance, definitely check some of Frances Hardinge's books out!

[kedsandtubesocks]

this is for @acerathia who caught my plans for the next installment in our little universe, for @procrastination-artist who made my entire world yesterday and as always for @ofmermaidstories to help bring some good deku vibes

here’s our introduction to Jedi!Deku x reader 💚

(also here’s a lovely and fancy Naboo hallway for reference)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Naboo is something out of a dream. It is all the stories and mythical children’s tales he used to read as a boy come to life. It truly is the beautiful elegant planet sitting among the wild edge of space.

Now as a man, as a Jedi, Izuku of course can appreciate how splendid and awe striking the planet is. But a deep grim reality peeks out from the back of his mind. The investigation into the attack on the Jedi temple has brought him here.

“There are unfortunate rumors now coming out about one of the Naboo senators has been very vocal against us.” Older and gauntly in appearance yet still incredibly legendary, Jedi council member Toshinori told Izuku of his assignment.

“We are not sure about how serious the allegations are but at this point we need to investigate any rumor. And…funny enough this actually works out perfectly. Naboo has been requesting us for some time to possibly send a knight as an extra guard to help with the political unrest going on in the system.”

Izuku nodded at his mentor’s request but he still needed to ask. “Why send me?”

Toshinori smiled kindly and patted Izuku’s shoulder. “You still seem to forget you are now the hero of this generation my boy, a true honor to the title of jedi knight. They will trust you.”

So Izuku took on this assignment with honor.

“Ah! Oh my goodness there he is, a Jedi knight!” His resolve of course is already getting.

Izuku has only been on Naboo since this morning and he has awkwardly had to laugh and greet so many civilians rushing up to him with eager awestruck eyes. Now finally away from the main city and safe within the palace’s grand hallways, Izuku finds a bit of peace before he has to face his assignment.

The Monarch of the planet has requested his presence. He thanks the force for already setting this into motion. As if to bless him even more a breeze flutters into the open walkways and provides a beautiful sense of peace.

He turns the corner. There, at the edge of the steps to a bottom corridor, he finds someone sitting. Izuku’s curiosity peaks up so fast.

The robes and mostly covered face…

“You’re a royal handmaiden.” He breathes out in awe.

He’s never seen one in person and he’s surprised seeing you alone. Shouldn’t you be with the Crown?Now he flat out stares and it’s like two terrified lothcats waiting for the other to move first.

That’s when Izuku spots it. A pack of various breads and sweet baked treats sitting right beside you, one of them is already half eaten.

“Don’t tell anyone you saw this!” Your voice, so fast and panicky, suddenly blurts out like you’ve been caught red handed and Izuku can’t help it.

He laughs as his stomach growls at the sight of the beautifully baked goods.

“I won’t…Just as long as maybe I can get a bite of one of those?” Izuku asks shyly.

Your shoulders drop surprised. He’s even surprised. But what surprises him more is that even with the robe’s hood hiding most of your face, your welcoming grin shines out from under the covering.

“Sure, I’ve never eaten with a Jedi knight before.”

Izuku gladly takes a seat besides you and warmly thanks you as you hand him a piece of your stash. He takes a bite and his evergreen eyes go wide.

“This is amazing!” He gushes.

“Right? A lot of people don’t know this but Naboo actually has a knack for baked goods.” You tell him friendly.

“I would’ve never known! Now I’m really glad I got to try some and on my first day here.” Izuku means his words. He’s grateful to experience Naboo this way before he has to dig deep into its dirt.

“We heard there was going to be a new guard around. I just didn’t expect to see a famous Jedi knight.” You comment.

Izuku coughs embarrassed as he tries to still enjoy the next piece of the bread you’ve given him.

“Well, I’m just a knight. Nothing too special.”

You hum a teasing type noise at him and your lips twitch amused. A wave of heated embarrassment crawls up his skin. But he also thinks it might just be the mid afternoon heat of the planet itself. Izuku never expected Naboo weather to be like this.

“Is it always this hot?” He can’t help but ask.

“Not normally. This spring is just turning into summer faster.”

“I bet. In all those robes I’m impressed you’re handling this better than I am.” He replies to you a bit sympathetic. He couldn’t imagine being in so many long and layered robes along with having most of his face covered.

“Oh I’m used to it.” You snort. “And besides, this always helps.”

Suddenly you reach to draw the robe’s hood back and he sees you for the first time.

Your face is a bit sweaty from being under the hood for so long. A sigh of relief escapes you and your eyes mirror that. Turning to him you smile a weak almost bashful thing.

You’re stunning. Izuku justifies his blatant staring as simply appreciating the new beauty this planet has greeted him with and you so far are his favorite.

“I thought royal maidens couldn’t reveal their identity?” He asks so curious and even a bit stunned.

“Eh.” You tell him so casually with a shrug he almost snorts. “The Queen is the only one who’s identity is hidden. We’re just the entourage, nobody really cares or notices us.”

A small pang now hits inside of Izuku.

“Wait that’s not true!” He suddenly tells you. “I’ve read so much about the Naboo and of course I came across the role of a royal shadow! I remember reading that they have to know so much! The issues of Naboo, anything else going on with the Galaxy, they need to be aware of it all just in case they have to refresh the Crown’s knowledge. It’s all so impressive!”

Izuku watches your eyes go wide and oh no he’s rambled on too much like he always does.

“I’m sorry!” He’s quickly stammers out now so very embarrassed. “I just…I’ve never been here before funny enough, so this is all kind of exciting for me.”

You laugh, but it’s warm and friendly making his heart do an interesting spin. Izuku watches you break off another piece from the dwindling snack stash and hand it to him. He flings it into his mouth quickly to shut himself up from rambling any more.

“Our queen is going to love you.” You tell him with a gentle nod as you munch on the sweet bread. “There’s a lot going on and hearing someone like you speak so excited about this place…it’s wonderful.”

A bright electricity spreads from his chest down to his finger tips as if the force had just ran through his veins. “O-oh! Well, t-thank you!”

He feels like he is back to being a a nervous boy in training when Uraraka used to hand him an extra training saber. Izuku knows those feelings however, this rush of being flustered, needs to be fluttered away.

So he turns the tables. “I am excited for the meeting too. I’m sure the royal court is going to interested to hear how I found a handmaiden hiding away and snacking.”

You gasp horrified. He laughs and finds he enjoys seeing how fast your face scowls hard at him.

“I thought Jedi knights were suppose to be peace keepers, not little shits like you!”

He laughs even harder. “I’m definitely telling the Crown how vulgar and rude you are too.”

“I’m going to be the one talking to everyone first and I’m warning them about how awful you are!” You childishly fire back but it’s without malice because your voice cracks. Suddenly you’re laughing too. You and him simple simple and enjoy this fresh feeling of meeting someone new.

You sigh settling yourself down and look out to the stretch of the empty palace hallway.

“Everyone, even our beloved ruler, would understand if you told them you found me like this though…we all know sometimes we just need a moment to ourselves.”

Your voice grows wistful and even a bit vacant.

A sudden wave of understanding leaks in him. He has mediated alone often because this life, this path he’s taken, sometimes needs to be sorted through. Just sitting here now he already feels as if he is teetering between that duality of being both Jedi knight and a man simply enjoying the company of someone lovely.

“Well. We ate all my snacks.” You suddenly snort. As you stand to leave, Izuku finds he’s already missing you. “Guess my break is over, plus I’m sure you have places to be Sir Jedi.”

The title…it is indeed who he is, but right he just wants to be-

“Izuku.” He clarifies. “My name’s Izuku.”

You repeat his name and his body goes light. You freely give him your name and he holds onto it so precious.

“I guess I’ll see you later then, Izuku.”

And he does see you later.

In the grander of the Crowned One’s thrown room, the entire royal court including senators sits in a circle around the sovereign. He however looks past that. A small circle of royal handmaidens surround the monarch from the back like silent all matching shadows. Izuku can’t help it. His eyes scan the matching robes hoping to find your familiar face or even just a small knowing grin being sent his way.

“Jedi Knight Izuku. Welcome to the planet of Naboo.” Then the monarch’s voice, so commanding and hauntingly even toned, greets him. His eyes go wide for a moment.

How did they know it was him coming?

Then a soft fondness fills his chest. Of course, you really did tell everyone about him first didn’t you.

[birdofdawning]

Le Poison des Pierreries

Two women kissing in nature, by Georges Rochegrosse (1859-1938).

This is such a sweet picture. I’ve seen it pop up a few times on Tumblr.

And now I am going to ruin it. But then I’m going to try and unruin it! However, if you just want two girls kissing in nature then scroll on by and vote in some polls. It’s all good.

So this is an illustration from 1903 French novelette Le Poison des Pierreries (The Poisoned Stones) The two characters kissing are the Princess Alilat (the tall brunette) and the Prince Sparyanthis (the blond). Sparyanthis is eighteen years old and we weren’t yet at the point where we required super-buffness to indicate masculinity, so the artist depicts him as a pretty youth. But don’t stop reading! Because 1.) this is a tale of eroticism, revenge, obsession, and treacherous murder by sorcery, and who doesn’t love all that? and 2.) there is nothing straight about this couple or this novel.

Also, 3.) it’s pretty sexy. So, you know. Be aware fellow asexuals.

Le Poison des Pierreries was written by the author and essayist Camille Mauclair for his friend the Orientalist Georges Rochegrosse to illustrate. Orientalism was very pretty but very, very problematic and if you don’t know why you can easily find out by doing a search.

(BTW I am not an expert on textual analysis or art history, or queer and gender theory, and know almost nothing about the French language — when I get stuff wrong feel free to let me know! I’m sure at the very least there are lots of classical allusions I’m missing.)

Also: there’s some implied lack of consent in this story.

The novelette tells of the distant city of Etesia. It is ruled by two brothers, the doughty warrior Cimmérion and the beautiful, decadent Sparyanthis. They are really really fond of each other. But in a way that wasn’t a big deal in 1903.

Cimmérion arrives home from war with the beautiful princess Alilat whom he has forced into marriage. Alilat is now the last of her house, thanks to Cimmérion, because he’s slaughtered everyone she ever knew, and she has opinions about this. Despite Sparyanthis’ best intentions, Alilat beguiles him, and they begin having an affair while Cimmérion is away hunting each day. ‘Two women kissing in nature’ is the moment when Sparyanthis finally gives in to his desire for Alilat.

But Alilat is (understandably) after revenge for herself and her people, and she uses her sorceries to bring a strange malady upon Cimmérion that robs him of his strength. At the same time she relishes the agonies of guilt Sparyanthis feels over his ongoing betrayal of his beloved brother.

Eventually everyone dies!

But until that happens there is a lot of queer sex going on.

The Queerness

So we can try and read this story as someone from 1903, or we can read it as someone from today. In 1903 it’s a story of masculinity as a vital, conquering, barbarous force versus femininity as a languid, yielding, civilising… perhaps too civilising… influence. A healthy nation was thought to be warlike and ever-expanding. Old civilizations — like the ancient nations of the East — were regarded as rich but dwindling due to becoming too decadent; their sexual mores (which the West took a not at all creepy interest in; c.f. Richard Burton) were held to be intriguing but Not The Done Thing. A proper western couple — one (1) man + one (1) woman, married — had quick, penetrative sex and then went to sleep or something idk. This is how Cimmérion takes Alilat, and she loathes him for it (there’s a line about her ‘being thrown down upon the couch of the conqueror’ and having to endure his caresses). Real men are too busy hunting or making war or running kingdoms to bother much about girls.

But Sparyanthis is quite a different sort of person from his dull brother. He wanders around the palace in women’s clothes having sex with whoever he finds; the explicit incidents are with women, but there are plenty of young men in the illustrations. And everyone is down with it because the Etesians are known for two things: war and having A LOT of sex, never mind with who (at one point Spary can seek out Aliat at night because all the servants are busy making out with all the soldiers in alcoves).

Both in words and illustrations Mauclair and Rochegrosse suggest Sparyanthis is a young woman. He is ‘more beautiful that all the maidens of that country’. He is frequently described as wearing women’s robes, or of being naked except for his jewellery. He is languid and wanton (not vigorous and virile like Cimmérion), with golden tresses and soft, white limbs. There are suggestions that he is sometimes rouged or kohl-eyed, but I don’t trust my translation enough to say for sure. He lays around on couches and beds a lot, and delves into non-manly stuff like magic and secret knowledge. There’s much made of how devoted to each other the two brothers are because of their differences. Soft, white Sparyanthis idolises tanned, brawny, bearded Cimmérion, and Cimmérion ‘adores Sparyanthis’ beautiful body’.

Alilat, meanwhile, is not an Etesian and is accustomed to wearing sombre modest clothing (there is a scene where Sparyanthis invites her to one of his afternoon gambols, and when everyone strips off and starts making out Alilat remains in her black robes and pointedly focuses only on her host, Sparyanthis, and he wonders what’s going on). But once she seduces Sparyanthis, she starts playing with gender too: she frequently meets him dressed in masculine clothes, while he is still in his woman’s garments. She is a vital force, determined as she is to achieve her revenge, and this is juxtaposed with Sparyanthis’ languorous attitude. She is compared to a hunter, and him to the quarry.

Alilat explicitly cannot stand the touch of a man, so she's having an affair with the beautiful, voluptuous Sparyanthis... because neither her nor the story considers him a man.

She intends to destroy both Cimmérion and the city of Etesia, and she takes a devilish glee in how tortured with guilt Sparyanthis is, but she does seem to be as sexually obsessed with him as he is with her. And there are moments of maternal kindness too, where she fondly treats Spary like a younger sister.

So while in 1903 it’s a story of what city-destroying calamities happen when men and women don’t follow their natures or whatever, today it reads like messed up queer people having a lot of queer sex. And I think it’s definitely much more fun to read it that way.

The Sex

So I am asexual and modern sex stuff doesn’t really do much for me. But, tell you what, 1903 veiled door sex knows what it’s about.

Everyone is having great sex here, and it’s implied that because of all this sensuality the kingdom is doomed to fall: the ‘warm voluptuousness’ is ‘softening the men’. You just can’t run a country while everyone’s fucking all the time, and Mauclair is here to tell you all about how bad an idea it is.

No sex is ever described (though it’s taking place in the background of at least one illustration), so the excitement is all in the set-up: Alilat abducts and fucks Sparyanthis while dressed as one of his own archers (“and seized him with the audacity of a soldier taking a weak, conquered Syrian”). A bearded magician approaches Sparyanthis while he is studying the stars in his chambers and traces on the ground with a wand the symbol for an astrological union, and then the 'magician' opens her robe enough to reveal her breasts and they have sex with Alilat still wearing her false beard. I mean

They met in secret caves and rut like beasts, howling, then sit in the throne room in their official robes and give each other secret looks (which, to be fair, is kind of like every new love affair).

Sadly there are no illustrations of any of this! I guess Rochegrosse just wanted to draw beautiful youths embracing and had no time for Mauclair's gender-switching antics, and I think that's a shame.

Anyway, because Cimmérion has laid hands upon Alilat without her permission she has come up with a very particular murder scheme. She tells Sparyanthis that Cimmérion prefers to take her ‘naked save all her jewellery’ and so she enchants her jewellery to burn away his vitality while it caresses his bare skin — the Poisoned Stones of the story’s title. The very act of sex brings about the stoic Cimmérion's murder.

Everyone in Etesia is making out with everyone else, and Cimmérion’s and Alilat’s marriage seems to be the only expected exception to all this polyamoury or so you would think. But then comes the kicker at the end: as Cimmérion lies on his death bed he tells Sparyanthis and Alilat that he knew all about their secret love the whole time and he was totally okay with it: they should carry on with his blessing. Sparyanthis is not okay about that. But too late, bud.

Anyway, not two women kissing in nature, but — I think — two genderqueer people kissing in nature. Read it for yourself! It’s really short!

(Okay, so this is too long already, but Alilat is just so cool. She sends dreams to Spary and begins seducing him before they've even met.

There’s this whole bit where she summons up a spirit of fire from the underworld to infuse her jewellery with wicked magics, and Sparyanthis is like “Do we need to use sorcery? Can’t we just stab him?” and Alilat says “Don’t be such a nerd, Sparyanthis, I wanna do it with evil sex.”

And there’s also another part where she’s wondering about how it will all turn out once Cimmérion is dead, and she’s thinking that maybe she’ll usurp the throne, but then again maybe she’ll just destroy the kingdom and then ride out across the desert as it falls, laughing, and then she’ll go to the mountains and establish her own country of sorceresses and she will be their queen.

And hey, maybe the Alilat who ‘died’ was only a simulacrum and the real Alilat did just that. I hope so, people should just leave a girl alone.)

[telomeke]

MOONLIGHT CHICKEN – WEN'S NAME AND ITS LINKS TO POLITICAL COLOR SYMBOLISM

The way Wen's name is represented on screen in Moonlight Chicken is really interesting.

It isn't a Thai name, and is more probably Chinese. However, the Chinese character or ideogram isn't shown to us anywhere, not even in the Cantonese or Mandarin subtitles – they just spell out Wen in letters of the Roman alphabet instead of using a Chinese character:

(above) Moonlight Chicken Ep.1 [4/4] 9.28

But it's possible to find out what it is in Chinese (kind of), and this is what I did.

(above) Moonlight Chicken Ep.5 [4/4] 14.21

Jim has Wen's name stored on his phone as เหวิน, and it's the same Thai word used for the Chinese Emperor Wen of Sui – and his name employs the character 文. This is a word that refers to language, culture, or writing. It can also mean formal, literary or gentle, and because of all this it has a scholarly vibe.

But Wen's name really takes on significance when we see how else it connects, and surprisingly one of the weightier evocations is political in nature. 👀 Take a look at how Wen's name is represented in his own phone:

(above) Moonlight Chicken Ep.5 [1I4] 16.20

The w and n are present, but what happened to the e? Wen calling himself wn doesn't quite make sense – unless it's being done for other reasons. And in fact, the abbreviation does begin to take on significance when we look at it another way.

Now there is one thing that Thai people sometimes do with the Roman alphabet – they play around with the visual similarity that some letters have to letters in the Thai abugida, using Roman letters to spell out Thai words for a bit of fun. (Director Aof introduced this to us with the Inwza of Pat's chat ID in Bad Buddy – see this post linked here for more explanation.)

There appears to be general concurrence that the Roman letters w and n somewhat resemble the Thai letters พ and ท respectively – so the wn in Wen's phone can also be rendered พท. Noting that Wen's formal first name – วงศกร or Wongsakorn – means ancestor according to some online dictionaries, I think Moonlight Chicken is telling us to look more closely at the predecessor of Wen's พท for deeper meaning.

An online search of พท brings up several results, of which the following two are the most interesting:

พ.ท. – an abbreviation for Lieutenant Colonel (พันโท, pronounced something like phan tho);

พท. – an abbreviation for Pheu Thai Party (พรรคเพื่อไทย).

Looking first at Lieutenant Colonel (พันโท), the first word พัน (phan) means a thousand, while the second word โท (tho) can mean (among other things) two, second or double. It's probably just a coincidence, but it nonetheless reads like a neat little tip of the hat to the drama A Tale of a Thousand Stars (ATOTS) – it's as though the words thousand and second are signaling that Moonlight Chicken is Thousand Stars Pt.2 (remembering that ATOTS was also helmed by Director Aof, and also starred Earth, Mix and Khaotung).

However, it's the second meaning of พท – an abbreviation of พรรคเพื่อไทย or Pheu Thai Party – that's really interesting, because its appearance onscreen looks like a purposeful decision colored with political impulses.

The Pheu Thai Party (PTP, sometimes also called PPT because, you know, Thai language) was the third incarnation of Thailand's ex-premier Thaksin Shinawatra's original political party, after the first two were dissolved by the courts. (The first party, Thai Rak Thai, was founded in 1998 while PTP was founded in 2007, to give you an idea of the time period involved. This is around and after the time Jim and Jam ran away from the family farm, and so they would have been witness to the political drama with regard to this party, right up close in their cities.)

Before joining politics, Thaksin Shinawatra was in the police force, and attained the rank of – you guessed it – พ.ท. or Lieutenant Colonel (it was revoked later, after his fall from power). But he came from a family of businessmen, and had always been active in business.

Not to go too much more into detail (because I already have) the PTP and its previous versions rode into power in several elections on a platform of poverty eradication. Support from the rural poor was immense for them, especially because of welfare policies that the party introduced.

However, it was clear the party (in all its incarnations) was also on the side of big business, and once in power continued to engage in such. Opposition to Thaksin and his activities began to form, and came primarily from a coalition with a large base of support among the urban elite (intellectuals and the educated) and also royalists. They eventually formed a party to counter him formally, called the PAD.

The party espousing rights for the poor (while still affirmedly capitalist) was nicknamed the Red Shirts, while the party leveling charges of corruption against them, with the support of high-thinkers, intellectuals and royalists, became known as the Yellow Shirts. Protests would see throngs of supporters dressed (separately) in these two colors.

A detour into an explanation of the colors is in order here. As mentioned before in my write-up on Wen's friend Gong (linked here), in Thailand the color yellow can sometimes be seen as suggesting links to higher authority and the wisdom of greater experience. Shades of it (ranging to darker tones of mustard, even with nuances of rust) are reminiscent of the saffron robes worn by Buddhist monks respected for their piety and wisdom. And yellow is also the color associated with the current king as well as his father King Bhumibol Adulyadej before him – and we need to bear in mind that the majority of Thais absolutely revere the king, with him being seen as an incarnation of God in all his wisdom.

Director Aof has riffed on this significance of the color yellow before, in Bad Buddy Ep.12, when Korn comments on how much ex-bad boy Wai was reformed and religious:

(above) Bad Buddy Ep.12 [1I4] 5.32

In the scene above, Director Aof showed that Wai's rehabilitation was complete by dressing him in yellow, even as the dialogue made references to religion, good manners, temples and (Buddhist) donations. The choice of color was absolutely intentional – they actually dressed Wai in a woman's shirt (you can tell from the way the shirt placket overlaps right over left), and they did this not to suggest he'd been emasculated, but because the color was just what they needed for the character in this scene (suggesting his pivot to a life more monastic and respectful). So the choice of the color yellow (with all its connotations of religiosity and reform) took precedence over any ideas about gendering, which kind of fits nicely with other themes in Bad Buddy too.

As for the color red, its symbolism on the Thai flag is that it represents the land, its lifeblood (the people) and also blood spilled to maintain the country's independence. And these are concepts clearly laden with passionate emotion.

Although Thailand's population is now slightly more than 52% urban, it was still majority rural at the time before and during Thaksin's premiership (and rural populations were almost always poorer than urban ones). The idea of urban Thailand as having rural underpinnings was prevalent, and the Red Shirts capitalized on this – if the color red symbolized the land and its people, people working the land would surely be the best example of this lifeblood.

So what the Red Shirts did was to appeal emotionally to the rural populace, that had long felt ignored, and spoke to their sense of marginalization with handouts and welfare, and made them feel that they were finally being seen. Thus the color red came to be associated with championing the cause of the (rural) poor during those times, along with the heated emotions that were being stirred up in this segment of the population in support of the party.

With regard to the Red Shirts and the Yellow Shirts – I'm not at all taking sides or writing about who was right and who was wrong. But because of what these colors mean in Thailand (and especially during the era of the Red and Yellow Shirts referenced by Wen's name), I think in Moonlight Chicken the colors yellow and red speak of the dichotomy between living your life based on rational thought, as opposed to emotional reaction (the age-old conflict of head v. heart). And the connection that the color red also has to socio-economic class struggles in Thaksin-era Thailand also resonates around Jim, Wen and the diner in particular (noting that the heyday of the Red Shirts was also the same time that Jim was beginning his new life in the city).

I don’t really do wardrobe color analysis (please visit @respectthepetty's archive linked here for stuff that's much more in-depth and wide-ranging across many different shows 👍). But I'll take a stab at it for this aspect of Moonlight Chicken, painting only with the very broadest of brushstrokes (noting that you can't apply the color palette too strictly anyway, because it'll make the characters look like they're in uniform and the whole effect will turn cartoony).

In Moonlight Chicken I think the color red (echoing the cause of the Red Shirts) does represent the downtrodden and their struggle to survive. Jim's diner has red aprons, and we see a lot of red on Jim, Saleng and Li Ming – they're quite clearly represented as the underclass.

Wen having wn or พท on his phone to refer to himself may be a sign that he aligned himself with the Red Shirts' point of view, at least at the beginning and with regard to the underprivileged. From Ep.2 onwards, we see Wen's wardrobe starting to take on more red even as he starts to feel increasing empathy for Jim and Jim's found family, especially when he begins helping out as temp staff at the diner. (This parallels how the PTP, that shares the พท on Wen's mobile phone, was also identified with the Red Shirts and fighting for the poor).

But red is also the color that we see Jim's money-grubbing landlord representative wearing in Ep.3 [2/4], even as his bike is yellow:

(above left) Moonlight Chicken Ep.3 [2/4] 2.26; (above right) Moonlight Chicken Ep.3 [2/4] 0.57

Meanwhile, Wen also works with the Marina Development that threatens the diner (and this organization is symbolic of big business, just like the party associated with the Red Shirts also had similar interests). When they show us Wen's first in-office meeting (that we get to see), he's still in red but he's also cloaked it with a neutral (indicating that his loyalties may be divided):

(above) Moonlight Chicken Ep.3 [1I4] 1.42

So I think the color red in Moonlight Chicken not only symbolizes the oppressed, but also the systems oppressing them. It may be associated with the poor and their lot in life, but it may also be appropriated by those with less-charitable intentions. When applied to Jim's landlord representative, who's using both yellow and red, we can't see where his true loyalties lie, and the colors serve to illustrate his basic untrustworthiness.

In these two examples (Jim's troubles with the landlord and the Marina Development) we are reminded of how the party of the Red Shirts, the PTP, may have been helping the poor with handouts (appealing to their emotions in exchange for votes), but it was also on the side of big business, and engaging in mega-business dealings that would line its own coffers (that might or might not be channeled back to help the poor – I have no idea as to their actual plans).

The Yellow Shirts certainly didn't think this was right though, and charges of corruption were leveled against Thaksin and his party, eventually leading to his political demise.

But in Moonlight Chicken, what we see as the series progresses is Wen beginning to wear more and more yellow even as he's drawn in closer to Jim's circle. This to me signals that he's applying more reasoned thought on how to resolve his divided loyalties (keeping in mind the monastic/intellectual/royal significance of the color yellow, and the scholarly connotations of his name 文).

The following outfit paints a picture of Wen's journey (and it's the same one that he wears when we get a first glimpse at the wn on his phone):

(above) Moonlight Chicken Ep.5 [1I4] 12.36

The color red is still predominant, but we're also seeing pale apricot and saffron orange (of the same family as the colors of monks' robes) starting to creep in. (The blue can also be read as a reference to the revered monarchy by the way; it's not just the yellow that suggests this – the color blue also represents the royal family on the Thai flag). The red reflects Wen's heartfelt care and concern for the struggles of the diner and its people (echoing the mission of the Red Shirts), but the increasing amount of yellow (and related hues) also shows how he's starting his journey to reason with his head (echoing the elite, high-thinking origins of the Yellow Shirts), and not just blindly following the dictates of his heart.

Significantly, the scene that follows also parallels this, in the flashback of Wen (in yellow ochre) proffering wise words of advice to Jim (applying rational logic to matters of the heart):

(above) Moonlight Chicken Ep.5 [1I4] 17.32

I wouldn't have been reading so much into the significance of the wn on Wen's phone and all the political backstory with the colors, except that Wen himself actually makes a comment regarding politics later on, casting himself in the role of a politician:

(above) Moonlight Chicken Ep.7 [2/4] 8.04

This moment is Director Aof taking the opportunity to make a statement about LGBTQ+ rights by having Wen, in Buddhist-robe saffron, hand Jim a mug with "Love is Love" in rainbow colors while they talk about queer struggles and the unavailability of same-sex marriage in Thailand. But at the same time, it also underscores Wen's connection to politics and the significance of the colors he wears. 👍

Interestingly, from time to time we also see Jim wearing versions of yellow (shading into other tones like orange and ochre), even as his wardrobe retains touches of the red that signals his underprivileged socio-economic class. I think this parallels his journey to realizing his best life using reason and logic, an enlightenment of sorts, rather than relying on the prejudices and received wisdom he's stored in his heart (inherited from generations before him) or the emotions that plagued him after Beam's passing.

And the culmination of this is when he allows Li Ming his freedom, and also relinquishes the diner for a food truck (which in a sense allows him freedom too). This is given a shout-out in Ep.8 [3I4], when he doffs his red apron and passes it to Saleng (symbolically giving up the weight of his emotional decision-making, that tied him to a life of poverty) while still wearing a saffron top (symbolizing the rationalized decisions that got him to a new, unburdened life):

(above) Moonlight Chicken Ep.8 [3I4] 7.45

And the parallel journey for Wen is when he finally, rationally, makes a clean and solid break with Alan, no longer hanging onto the past out of sense of obligation to Alan's feelings, or misplaced compassion after his accident. (Wen overstaying where he shouldn't, because of the emotional pull that he feels, is actually foreshadowed way back in Ep.1 [2/4], when he dawdles in Jim's home the morning after their one-night stand. 👍)

By Ep.8 [4/4], we see that both Jim and Wen found a way to accommodate the dichotomy of head versus heart in their lives, using sensible logic to address their own needs, and the needs of their loved ones, rather than relying only on the instinctive tugging of their hearts – a battle that they ultimately won, that was symbolized by the yellow and red that they wear, and that was first signaled to us via the innocuous wn or พท representing Wen's name in his mobile phone. 💖

[puppet-does-things]

STORY TIME❕❕❗

Hehehe

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

Cuphead: Tales of the Isles

La Mamá part 1

September 21th, 1946. 12:56am.

It was a cold night in Inkwell, most of the residents had gone to sleep and the city was pretty calm for the most part. In the first isle, there was shed behind a kettle shaped house and inside was Mugman! He was working on a robotic chalice for the night and refused to go to sleep if it wasn't finished.

Plus, his mother wasn't here to force him to go to sleep, so that was a plus.

He noticed the time and grumbled, of course he was taking an absurd about of time to finish it..but he couldn't stop now. He had to finish it before sunrise. Luckily for him, a smaller mug decided that she didn't want to sleep and tiredly waddled into the shed. Mugman usually kept the door open when he was inside, a way to keep the smoke from being trapped in the small building.

"Muggy..." She mumbled tiredly.

"I can't sleep, can you read me a bed time story..?"

"Not now Demi, I'm busy. Go ask Cup."

Frowning, Demitasse pouted and sat at the entrance. She crossed her arms and looked up at he brother.

"But Cuppy said you would!"

"Well tell him he's wrong. I'm busy fixing Lola." Mugman snapped, looking at his sister. He paused for a moment before shaking his head. There wasn't any need to get mad..she was just asking for a story. But Mugman didn't really have a story to tell and Demitasse was too old for any of the books Ruby read to them as kids.

"Perdón Tacita...I just don't have any stories to read you. You're too old for any of the books mamá read to us as kids anyways." He explained, going back to fixing the robot he was working on.

Demitasse stayed quiet for a moment before getting up and walking to a nearby table. She climbed into it and sat at a clearing in it to watch her brother work. She found it cool how he could make something out of 'trash'. Something Cuphead teased a lot about, but the the two younger siblings knew he was also impressed. But then the topic of Ruby sat in the little one's head.

You see, Demitasse never actually met Ruby. The beloved mug died shortly after she gave birth to her last daughter, so she didn't remember much...of at all. She only got to know her through stories her father and brothers told. It was rare that they did though.

There was a long awkward silence between the two mugs. Demitasse decided to look around the shed before noticing a family picture above the entrance. She wasn't there though, but she knew she couldn't take it personally. She wasn't born when that picture was taken.

"Taza, what was mamá like?" She asked, finally breaking the silence. Mugman took stopped and sighed. He set his tool down and looking at his sister.

"Tacita, I'm really not in the mood to talk about—"

"Aw c'mon! You and Cuppy always take about her when you're in our room by yourselves! And-And papá always says to remember her! Why can't I talk about mamá?!"

"No Demi, it's—"

"Tell me! I don't wanna go to the panteón and be the only person who can't be sad because I never met her!"

Mugman stayed quiet before. He took a moment before nodding. He put way his tools and cleaned his hands off with a rag.

"Okay, ya win. Let's go visit mamá. I'll tell ya anything ya wanna know."

Demitasse smiled happily and hopped off the table. She waved bye to Lola before walking over to he brother and grabbed his hand. He closed the shed's door and began to head to the graveyard.

Fin.

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

Holy shit you actually read through that? I'm surprised! My story writing isn't the best as you can tell, eh? Anyways, hope you enjoyed!

[zahri-melitor]

Dark Nights: Metal

Well that was certainly an event.

I think the reasons to read this come under a handful of categories:-

Do you care about Barbat(h)os lore?

Do the words ‘Dark Multiverse’ sound like something you care about finding out more about?

Are you an event tragic and want to be set up to read storylines and events spiraling out of this?

Are you the sort of Batman fan who wants to see him curbstomp with everyone else’s powers?

If your answers are no, congratulations, skip this event, it’s a fever dream.

If your interest is piqued: look the best way to describe this uh thing is that a multiverse evil Justice League of Bruce Waynes comes to harass Earth-0.

Yeah. You’ve got:

Red Death (Bruce Wayne who absorbed the Speed Force from Barry)

Murder Machine (Bruce Wayne bonded with an AI of Alfred that’s infected Cyborg)

Dawnbreaker (Bruce Wayne who got a Green Lantern ring immediately after his parents were murdered and had so much willpower he could override the ring into letting him do murder)

Drowned (our gender-swapped Bryce Wayne who performed surgery on himself to turn amphibious to defeat Atlantis after they tried conquering the land)

Merciless (Bruce Wayne who was in love with Diana but ended up possessed by Ares’s helmet after her death)

Devastator (Bruce Wayne infects himself with the Doomsday virus)

The Batman Who Laughs (yeah you all know this one, is the Bruce & Joker combo)

It’s also a ‘collect the tv & movie references’ event, with specific visual references to things like: Star Trek Wrath of Khan; Mad Max Fury Road; Game of Thrones; etc.

It is also, I guess, stuffed full of in-joke references back to earlier events and storylines, both pre and post Flashpoint. Bart Allen gets name-checked. There's an Arthur's hook hand joke that lands quite well. There’s a comment on the street about turning Gotham into a No Man’s Land. Batman: Lost is just ‘how well do you recognise a bunch of classic Batman tales’. And so on.

Interestingly, the two titles that I enjoyed the most (in terms of both references and how their story was constructed) were Batman: Lost #1 (a Snyder-Williamson-Tynion combo book) and Dark Nights: The Batman Who Laughs #1 (Tynion, with Rossmo on art).

I know. I KNOW. But the Dark Nights: The Batman Who Laughs title, despite having literally everything working against it, had the most coherent storyline for how Bruce got corrupted, it was the only title that focused on the fact people would care, and as tends to be the case, it had Rossmo assigned for the art to do some really interesting things. Tynion can tell a good story and actually cared about the stakes of it.

While Batman: Lost #1 is far more understandable as a great event one-shot. It has Bruce hallucinating his future, being in his 70s at home in the Manor with a crowd of grandchildren running around (one has Gordon red hair! Another is called Janet!) and he's telling stories of his past battles to Janet. There's a library wall where the books are all his 'adventures' and of course they're all labelled with the names of various famous Batman stories (and it's fun to look through them and pick out the priorities) and as Bruce tells Janet the story she requested, how it went keeps shifting and other storylines are interposed (and also have oddities in them). It's a title that rewards knowing the original stories Bruce tries to tell. Dominique talks directly to the camera explaining how things will proceed in the Dark Night, Dark City scenes.

Finally there's actually a really lovely intro sequence to Dark Knights Rising: The Wild Hunt #1 if you're a Bobo fan, which includes Rex, the Wonder Dog. I really loved that bit.

Either way, this was one of those events with characters stuffed into every possible panel for Meaningful Reasons and a load of nonsense (I'm not even going to bother understanding some of this, but I got the impression there was a whole pack of 'where has this character been' retcons put in place).

It's a very, very, very, very Bruce Wayne obsessed event. And while there was certainly good material to enjoy in it if you like playing spotto with previous events, the entire metal lore was just ultimately painful to read.

[dayseternal-blog]

One your asks inspired this thought of out me.

Idk if Icebergs are still popular, but does a NaruHina Fic Iceberg post sound fun to you?

Basically, there's like 5 or 6 tiers (there should be a template readily available in google images) and you assign specific media (in this case, NH fics) to each tier, descending from tame tho troubling to 'stare into the abyss'-level awful. 😅

I'm just super curious now, haha. 🤪 Baiee~

I worked on this for a couple of days! Fun~

uhhh click for hopefully better quality?

The order of the fics within each category sorta matters to me, but if I thought about it harder, I'd probably change things around, so the order's not that important. And in general, the categories go from NaruHina getting hurt, to NaruHina hurting others, to NaruHina hurting each other. With a few exceptions! But if someone else were to rank this, they might categorize things differently.

It's all just my feeling. As you can see. By the category titles.

Congratulations to Sessakag, Sadistic One, BlackMajjicDuchess, and DemonOfTheFridge for scaring me the most hahahahahaha 💀

Looking at this and one would think I love freaky stories lol

I read it for the curious cat to be killed.

I have all the stories linked below :)

Darkly Mysterious, Worrying 😥

“White Kunai” by @magmawrites - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. A series of violent rapes and murders targeting long, dark haired, young women have caught the attention of the Hokage. Her plan? Use a qualified, long, dark haired kunoichi as bait. The only one that fits the criteria? Hinata.

“a home is a dream” by bluebeardsbrides - Rated M, Modern AU, One-shot. Naruto Uzumaki returns home with all the force maelstrom, three days after her husband’s disappearance and six years since she went and stumbled on Neji’s body floating in the creek downtown.

"Dark Shift" by brown phantom - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. After a solo mission goes horribly wrong, something happens to Naruto. His mask of happiness turns dark and cruel, and he turns against the village he had sworn to protect. Can he be returned to normal before it's too late?

“Distorted Minds” by Cheating Death - Rated E for graphic violence, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Her lavender eyes slowly opened, her vision blurry and distorted for a few moments as she tried to look around. It was then that she realized that she was suspended a few inches off the ground, her wrists cuffed in cold, metal shackles that hung from the ceiling.

Disturbing, Unsettling, Cursed 😶

“Asylum AU” from “Tales of Two Ninjas” by magmawrites - Rated M, Modern AU, One-shot. What’s to say what’s real and what isn’t? The only thing that’s valid and true in all universes is their love for one another.

“Burn The House Down” by @secrettastemakerland - Rated G, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. Naruto shrugged, not really having an answer. He had tried to tell her they had bigger problems.

"Go Home, Start Again" by @bunny-hoodlum - Rated E, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. My submission for NH2020 February's theme "Time Loop".

"Stay" by @nightowl27-writer - Rated E, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. The basement holds much more than ashes and secrets. As urban legends come to life, people begin to disappear, and a city sits on the brink of disaster. When everything seems to be falling apart, will Hinata find the answer to the question she is terrified to ask?

Weird, Shocking, & Crazy 🤪

“His obsession” by agitosgirl - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Naruto loved her, he loved her with everything he had and more. And when he gets back from his training trip, he’s going to show her how much he cherishes her. And she is going to be with him. Whether she wants to be or not isn’t really her choice.

"Qui Laudavit" by Avelona-and-Sally - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. One side-effect of having a demon sealed in you is a taste for blood. Another is the ability to make living and dead alike do your bidding. Which comes in handy when your girlfriend keeps dying.

“October - Horror” by @chloelapomme - Rated T, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. When despair turns into a feeling of love so intense that obsession is the only thing that can help you protect the one you love.

“Her” by browniefic - Rated E, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Naruto’s had a lot of obsessions in his life. But he knows she’s different.

"A Woman's Heart" by Ookami88 - Rated E, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. Naruto lies in hospital in coma. Sasuke is locked in prison for his crimes. Hinata comes up with a plan that will ensure her beloved man's happiness, no matter how much it'll cost her.

“A Love Never Seen” by HoneyWriter78 - Rated E and has rape/non-con, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Hinata Hyuga attend Konoha High she is part of the athletics group. She is friends with Ino and Shikamaru but is secretly in love with Shikamaru who is oblivious and loves someone else. She tried to fight her feelings not noticing that a certain senpai has had his eyes on her…

“There’s a new psycho on the block” by agitosgirl - Rated M for mentions of sex, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete/Inconclusive Ending. What happens when it’s Hinata who’ goes crazy? Years of torment and abuse by her family’s hand have caused this young girl to lose her mind, and to top it off, her mother left her a gift that will make her enemies, or just anyone she chooses to target, regret meeting her.

"Lost Souls" from "NaruHina Month December 2022" by @sessakag - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. They set off on a journey that’d one day bring them back to their place of birth, and on that day, they’d enact the plan that had given them a sense of purpose.

"Ravenous" from "NaruHina Month December 2022" by sessakag - Rated E, Modern AU, One-shot. “Hinataaaa,” Naruto pouted, leaning inside the open bathroom door, “you ready yet? I’m starving!”

Explicitly Appalling 😨

“Side Effects” by Cheating Death - Rated E for smut, dub-con, & non-con, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Complete.  You can easily skip the rape and non-con without compromising the plot, the author warns you before it happens. When Naruto and Hinata decide to participate in a high-paying clinical study, they wind up signing up for much more than they bargained for.

“Serial Killer” by Raven Young - Rated M, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. She’s a Sociopath. She’s a Supermodel. She’s a serial killer. She’s a girl in love. She is Hinata Hyuga. And he is her undoing.

“I want you to cry” and its sequel “I want you” by Devahhole - Rated E for graphic murder (character death), dub-con/non-con, and smut, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. A sociopath blinded by revenge runs into his greatest opponent.

"Naruto: The Mating" by SeventhShinobi - Rated E, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Now, Naruto has discovered the an ability called "The Mating." Come see what he'll do with his new found power

Seriously Distressing 😰

“Powerless” by bunny-hoodlum - Rated E for a lot of things, like depictions of violence and character death. Multi-chapter, Incomplete. His family’s past can’t be taken at face-value, and it comes clawing back to hurt him in ways that are out of his control.  DELETED FIC.

“Listen To Me” by SullyR - Rated E and includes domestic abuse & non-con, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Hinata is terrified out of her mind. She has no choice but to listen to him or else he gets physical, and by physical, she means fast!

“Nightmare” from “Nice Legs, Daisy Dukes” by Star-Child-Yeci - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. “Why do you got that in your hand, huh, pet?” The words slid off his tongue, and she shivered.

Chapter 6 from “Naruhina Oneshots” by @powerful-niya - Rated E, College AU, One-shot. A new college student finally enrolls into her new school, with the help of a handsome blonde male. He helps her and cares for her which she appreciates very much. But bad rumors about him break out and eventually reaches the midnight blue-haired woman making her feel skeptical about their friendship. But cutting ties is hard, especially with a guy who already has you, under his boot.

Wtf Horrifying 😱

“Monster” by Sessakag - Rated E, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Naruto, a celebrated war hero, finds himself, once again at the forefront of the fight, but which side is he on this time? Love. Tragedy. Happiness. Heartache. The growing pains of becoming a man, have molded, shaped and brought forth a new Naruto Uzumaki.

“Insanity” by Sadistic One - Rated E for GRAPHIC MURDER, College AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. The smell of his cologne and slight musk was the first thing that caught Hyuga Hinata’s attention. She eventually found out that smell belonged to a young man named Uzumaki Naruto. Ever since that encounter, she couldn’t stop following him and watching his every move. She needed to know who he hanged out with, his hobbies likes and dislikes. She even transferred to his school to study him more closely. But as those months went on, she discovered Naruto was not who he portrayed to be to his peers, but a cold-blooded murderer. Is this enough to put a stop to Hinata’s obsession or will it draw her closer to her own insanity?

“Breeding Season” by BlackMajjicDuchess - Rated E and has rape/non-con, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Completely out of pattern, Kyuubi leaks free and causes terrible destruction that Naruto cannot suppress. There is a solution, but it comes at a terrible price.

“Honeymoon” by DemonOfTheFridge - Rated E and has rape/non-con, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto always left on a secret mission once a year for a whole month. A curious Hinata finally had enough and followed him to an underground house. A house she finds herself trapped in, with a dark Naruto. Curiosity Killed the Cat.

This was so entertaining! If anyone agrees or would order things differently, let me know~

[pvregold]

         ✦         SABINE  BOGELOT           ›         hard - working  yet  short - tempered  thirty  year  old  immunologist  who  goes  by  she  +  her  pronouns  and  is  always  carrying  the  initial  of  her  late  mother  hanging  around  her  neck.  born  in  sol  city,  often  can  be  seen  nose  deep  in  any  and  every  of  her  lab  tasks,  training  incessantly  to  clear  her  mind,  or  taciturnly  researching  in  any  space  quiet  enough  for  her  to  focus.  perceptive  as  a  cat  in  the  dark,  but  insensitive  as  a  numb  limb,  sabine  deeply  enjoys  calm  afternoons  that  allow  her  to  read,  nursing  a  glass  of  wine  after  a  particular  exhausting  day  &  take  long  and  lone  walks  when  she  can.  chaotic  neutral,  aries  sun  &  biology  enthusiast,  she  identifies  as  a  lesbian  cis  woman,  has  the  terrible  habit  of  maniacally  moving  a  pen  between  index  and  forefinger  when  she’s  anxiously  concentrated,  and  carries  with  her  the  ability  of  matter  manipulation.     

*   LINKS .         threads.     tag.     wanted  connections.     pinterest.     ©.

*       ONE     ,       BASICS  .

full  name:     sabine  aurora  bogelot.         nicknames:    sab,   rory,   bean  ( brother’s rights only ).         age  +  dob:     thirty  +  april  13th.         hometown:     sol city.         gender  +  pronouns:     cis - woman  +  she / her.         orientation:     lesbian.         species:     mutant.         ability:     matter  manipulation.         occupation:     immunologist.         sector:     five.         affiliation:     the  mutant’s  society.

*       TWO     ,       PERSONALITY  TRAITS  .

positive  traits:     hard - working,   perceptive,  intelligent.         neutral  traits:     determined,   guarded,   witty.         negative  traits:     insensitive,   short - tempered,   cynical.         zodiac’s  main  three:     aries  sun,   taurus  moon,   aquarius  rising.         moral  alignment:     chaotic  neutral.         temperament:     choleric.

*       THREE     ,       A  BRIEF  TALE  .

               it  all  started  with  your  grandmother,  she  was  the  one  infected  for  years,  she  was  the  one  to  get  the  cure  when  it  was  eventually  discovered  and  carry  the  gene  that  made  you  a  mutant.  as  biology  works,  it  skipped  a  generation,  your  human  mother  a  beacon  of  hope  in  her  torment.  yet  she  knew  enough  to  see,  the  very  moment  you  were  born,  you  were  like  her,  that  her  curse  had  touched  your  vulnerable  being,  that  you  would  be  an  outcast  as  she  was.  having  a  father  who  despised  what  you  were,  what  you  entitled  didn’t  help,  either.                but  you  were  a  force  of  nature,  and  nobody  would  tell  you  what  to  do,  how  to  be,  where  to  stand.                you  didn’t  grow  up  too  joyful,  but  at  least  you  grew  up  tough,  resilient  as  a  block  of  iron.  and  despite  the  world  you  were  born  into,  the  destruction  engulfing  the  borders  of  your  existence,  and  the  loss  that  taints  your  heart  with  grief  until  today,  soon  enough  you  were  a  strong  woman  with  a  strong  character,  an  unwavering  devotion  for  science  that  made  you  reliable,  and  the  ability  to  manipulate  matter  at  your  whim.  there  was  little  on  this  earth,  wrecked  as  it  was,  that  could  stop  you,  and  you  would  not  allow  even  that  to  do  so.

*       FOUR     ,       ESSENTIALS  +  HEADCANONS  .

(  !  )   CW   :     PARENTAL  NEGLECT  &  DEATH,  DISEASE,  GRIEF,  ALCOHOL.

i.   daughter  of  louise  and  jean-luc  bogelot,  she’s  the  youngest  of  three  children.  she  has  two  brothers,  one  of  them  is  her  twin. ii.  despite  marrying  for  love,  the  discovery  of  their  mutant  nature  put  a  damper  on  that  devotion  —  their  father  quickly  turned  cold  and  distant,  and  with  his  neglect  and  the  violence  that  came  with  it  they  grew  up  until  they  were  abandoned  by  him  during  their  early  teenage  years. iii.  sabine  inherited  her  love  for  science  from  her  mother,  a  doctor  in  sector  4  who  taught  her  the  basis  of  what  she  now  dedicates  her  life  to. iv.  sadly  she died  of  a  strange,  unknown  disease  when  she  was  fifteen,  although  sabine  always  thought  it  was  from  sadness.  she  owned  a  necklace  with  her  initial  that  sabine  has worn  unfailingly  ever  since. v.  she’s  an  avid  reader,  and  even  when  she  has  little  time  to  do  it  between  her  work  and  research,  every  little  free  space  she  finds  she  uses  it  to  read  some  fiction  that  pushes  her  away  from  reality  for  a  while.  psychological  thrillers  are  her  favorite  genre. vi.  regardless  of  her  attentive  and  perceptive  nature,  she’s  also  very  insensitive,  this  trait  can  be  mostly  seen  in  the  blunt  way  in  which  she  could  say  some  truths.  she’s  quite  tactless  with  her  honesty  most  of  the  time  ( i’m   really   sorry   about  her  tt ). vii.   she’s  also  very  sarcastic  and  has  very  little  patience  with  people,  yet  she’s  an  awesome  drinking  buddy  and  a  great  listener,  even  when  she  will  roll  her  eyes  at  you  as  she  does  it.

[dragon-familiar]

The Tragedy of Batman and Two-Face

aka how the story of Bruce and Harvey can be interpreted as one of the most tragic romantic tales in comics

Finally taking the time to write my feelings about these two characters and how much I love them and their potential, etc. Read more about it under the cut.

I really want to establish the story behind Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent, the tale of two men wanting to change their city and both having different means to do just that.

Bruce Wayne is the Batman. The Dark Knight. He's a vigilante who helps the citizens behind the shadows, acting where the police cannot. He does whatever he can to save others at the expense of himself. A man who keeps his morals and secrets as close as he can.

Harvey Dent is Gotham's district attorney. The Apollo. A man who uses his position for the greater good. Who makes sure he uses all the power in the justice system to put away criminals. A man who faces all this pressure from both sides.

Behind all of this, Bruce and Harvey are best friends. Being in their place, a best friend isn't easy to find. And these two men enjoy each other's company so much, they find it so easy to talk to one another. In a way, they are each other's safe haven. But most importantly, they both share a common goal: they both want to make Gotham a safer place.

And so, they both work to make that dream happen, together. As Bruce, he helps back up Harvey's campaign for mayor with funding and as Batman, he works alongside Harvey with Gordon to put away dangerous criminals in a partnership. They confide in each other for so much.

Bruce carries so much faith, trust, and love in Harvey that he's nearly on the verge of telling Harvey the truth about himself, about him being Batman. Harvey is a good man, one of the few good men he knows, he deserves to know everything. But like a slap to the face, that all changes when Harvey is attacked and is left scarred. Harvey begins to change, he begins doing bad things, going against the things he once believed in. That they once believed in. He's not acting like the person Bruce has come to love.

Imagine watching the person you love fall apart and you're helpless to stop it all. You begin to question yourself. Bruce starts to wonder, if he had just had more faith in Harvey, trusted him more. If he told Harvey sooner, maybe things would be different. Maybe he wouldn't have become Two-Face. Maybe he wouldn't have to force himself to fight Harvey. Maybe. Just maybe.

But...who is to say it would have changed anything? What if Bruce had just made things worse by telling Harvey that he was Batman?

And that's the thing: Bruce doesn't know what would've happened. And now he will never know.

It doesn't stop him, though. Bruce knows (or at least hopes) that the Harvey he loves is still in there. He can still save Harvey from himself, get him the help he deserves. He's constantly reaching out for him, begging the man he loves to come back to him.

I think Bruce deep down hopes that things can go back to the way they once were...but I think he already knows those days are gone. Harvey has hurt too many people, Bruce has changed too much himself. They could never go back to who they once were. In a way, Bruce is in denial about leaving old love behind. He still wants to help Harvey but he still craves the old days where they could joke and have dinner and just be with one another. Just the two of them against the world.

He can't stop chasing after Harvey, he won't stop. Because there is still hope for him, even if others keep telling him it's a lost cause.

Harvey, meanwhile, already mourns for the love they had. He has so many regrets and so many things he wants to change. And the thing is...Harvey figures out on his own that his greatest love and his greatest ally/adversary is the same person. But he never lets Two-Face find out because he still cares about Bruce. He still loves him and wants to protect him from himself.

They both want to go back to each other. They both still carry that love. But ultimately, it's one that's always cursed to tragedy.

Their story is one of two people who love one another, linked by their history, and torn apart by their passions. They're both trying to save each other...not knowing how to accept the fact that they carry so much regret for the things that they never said or never did. Forever wondering if saving each other is even possible or if they're doomed to fail.

[limited-fish]

Should I put some of my WIP on ao3? because I really want feedback. (Friends are too busy to read or give very vague feedback lol)

If you're interested in stories with unique world building, dragon-adjacent creatures, gender trouble, time travelling, shape shifters, many unreliable narrators and gods with bad tempers from whom magic users gain their power, then you may enjoy The Divided Door (working title) (may also be under The Analogy of the Divided Door). And yes, the two main characters are both trans.

Fiorel, a low ranking faerie, is forced to work with Jassid, a seemingly normal human tailor, while trying to uncover who killed nar father, why the eelems disappeared and why no new fae are being made. Meanwhile Temmin, a powerful sorcerer and his apprentice, Olia, daughter of the Emperor's favourite Imperial Hunter, are intent on ridding the world of barbarians, fae and monsters. Fiorel and Jassid's search for the truth takes them to weird little towns, forests deeper than glaciers, sprawling cities, wide open plains and far underground, each scene bursting with characters to help or hinder their journey.

It is still a work in progress and the plot hasn't completely solidified (and neither has the world building if I'm being honest) but that is why I need some one to help iron out the kinks (or put some in if needed). If anything is unclear, please tell me so that I can try to make it more intentional.

Trigger warnings include

- cheating

- blood mention (I haven't written any gore yet but it will probably be present later)

- fictional racism

- child death

- sex mentioned (m/m, m/nb, probably more later)

- possibly transphobia

- death

- murder

- torture

I'll have to check that this list is complete, but if its on ao3, the tags on that should cover everything.

Some characters use neopronouns (more accurately, their culture and language does not consider gender that important) so if neopronouns annoy you this may not be your cup of tea. Fiorel uses nai/nam/nar.

Fae is just the word I'm using to describe the undead shapeshifting servants of the penjagai, the demiurges, guardians of nature. It has very little to do with fairy tales although they are not completely disconnected.

I'm slightly worried about people and AI bots stealing my ideas - and whether it will be less viable to publish if I ever finish it. That's not a big fear however, as I've read Joy Demorras work and it seems she had no trouble getting published. Another anxiety is obviously people being callous or hateful with their comments but I am sure my mutuals will be lovely.

I have worked on it for about two years now, on and off and has many influences, one of them being Discworld although I am aiming for maybe a different tone.

Remember that all of it is subject to change.

My ao3 handle is limited_fish so it shouldn't be too hard to find... I just have to find the courage to upload it.

Hope you enjoy 😁

🐟 Signing off and hoping I can find a fabled beta reader 🤞

Corey 🖋️ヽ⁠(⁠｡⁠◕⁠o⁠◕⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ

(he/him)

PS I would especially like ppl who are native Greenlandic to help me out a bit because everything revolves around a people group that are partially inspired by real life Greenlandic people. I need to do more research (I've only read Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow and am not sure how accurate it is especially considering the guy who wrote it isn't native Greenlandic.) so if anyone could help me out, I would appreciate it 🙏

(This people group is also partially inspired by the Romani people having made a long journey from India to Europe. The Kutkuallahns (may change name later) travelled from the equivalent of the Antarctic where they had lived for thousands of years to a large southern continent, where they had to change their way of living quite drastically as they were no longer in a perpetually freezing climate. Again, I need to do more research and probably consult with anthropologists, but if you have any ideas for customs that might continue even once they are in a different climate, that would be awesome.)

PPS I know I use too many parentheses.