#for now! if you folks want a part 2 i'd be down to write it

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

[oftenderweapons]

Bourbon Bossa Nova | MYG | Pt.1

This story is part of the Blue Crush Collab

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (nicknamed Sunny)

Wordcount: 7k

Rating: 18+ (This part is pretty innocent, but Part 2 will feature mature content)

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers, composer!Yoongi x lifeguard!YN

Content warning: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sexual thoughts. Allusions to death, child abandonment and family loss.

Synopsis: when you start your summer at Honeycomb Cove, you're only expecting sunshine, waves and annoying teenage bravado as you work as a lifeguard. What you don't expect is Min Yoongi. He wasn't expecting you either. Soon your morning walks are your favourite part of the day, until you realise it's not really the walks, maybe it's always been him you are, after all, waiting for.

Shoutout to the incredible folks who helped me find courage to keep believing in this fic - and finally posting it. To Mars (@joheunsaram), To Bells (@youtifulhobi) to Yannie (@ressjeon), my power squad who believed in this fic (and in my writing skills) more than I did. Here's to me finally breaking my dry spell!!! And to some of my old and new supporters and cheerleaders @lelegzem0, @aanncchhuu, @blushingatyou and @percheee (other people are most definitely in this list but Tumblr is limiting my access to previous notes so I can't find you all) You folks are part of the reason I'm still rolling in the dust here on Tumblr

Part two out now!

Here's my masterlist, just in case you're new

Also: disclaimer! (very important, I should have put this first) I'm not Brazilian, and I have very little familiarity with Brazilian culture, but I really wanted to do a shoutout to this incredible country, its people, its art and its music. If you have any notes you would like to leave regarding Antonio's characters and Yoongi's attachment to Brazilian culture, you are the most welcome, both here in the comments and in my blog. I'd love to learn more 💜

Enjoy the fic!!!

May is a great thing. Flowers everywhere, the smell of sunscreen starting to spread in the air, orange dawns, hair getting frizzy with salty air and too much time in the water. Sand under your toes, loose linen garments, wearing a sports bra and a pair of shorts all the time, throwing an oversized sweater on when the night gets too cold, the smell of citrus and geranium to keep mosquitoes away. 

Early summer is great. Way better than midsummer and August. May and mid-September had always been your favourite times of the year: the beginning felt like sparks starting to burst, and the end felt like the natural conclusion of things, that languid nostalgia sweeping in gently, like the soft wind ready to carry in autumn days and blow the leaves away. 

The smell of rosemary and lavender and juniper accompanied you to the beach as you walked down one of the side alleys. 

“Good morn’ Earl!”

The old man turned to greet you as he kept watering the hibiscus bushes before the sun became too blinding, burning the poor flowers. “Morning Sunny!”

“Remember your heart pill!”

“Sure! Already took it!” Earl shouted back, his voice bubbly and bright. 

You waved at him as you kept walking, ready to meet your next friend. “Hello Rosa!”

“Hi Sunny!” 

The old lady already had her cocker spaniel on a leash, ready for her morning walk. “When’s Mindy coming around this year?”

“Mid-July. And she’s taking her children too!” The woman looked ecstatic about her daughter visiting. 

“That sounds amazing! I really have to rush, bye Rosa! And bye Lemon!”

“Lemon say bye!” Rosa told her dog, making her bark just in time before you started your jog. 

Being a lifeguard was great. It was the life you had always dreamed of. You had always worked out to fit in the lifeguard guidelines requirements, and a good ninety percent of your decisions had been oriented to making sure that you could be a lifeguard from the second week of May to the first week of October — that is the entirety of tourist season. Once autumn arrived, you would resume working at the retirement home: it was only your second year with that working arrangement, and you weren’t sure it would work at first, but your grandmother being the godmother of the director of the elderly institute guaranteed you would always find a spot working there; plus, they were also constantly in need of an extra set of hands, especially if those hands came with a degree in nursing. 

You’ve always known you wanted to work in elderly care just as much as you’ve always known you were made to be a lifeguard. Your parents were worried over the sort of sacrifices and strains that such an occupation would entail: all the caregiving, and the cleaning and the affection you spend on people you’re inevitably going to lose; yet it felt natural to you. Sure, some people can be antagonistic and diffident, in some cases you end up being more of a nanny than a nurse, but most of the time, it’s worth it. After two years in this field, the ups are definitely brighter than the darkest lows, and you’re under the strong impression that it will keep being so. 

Back to the glorious morning in front of you, you took off your flip-flops as you reached the best place in the world: the golden beach of Honeycomb Cove. Smiling, you fixed your cap on top of your head and walked to your tower, depositing your stuff in the cabin before going for your morning run. As you were opening the umbrella, taking in the blue infinity of the ocean before you, you spotted an unfamiliar figure below, a big fisher hat on its head, a long-sleeved white shirt covering its arms, a stick in one hand while the other was pressed to his lower back in a fist. 

“Hi, hello there!” you greeted, a wide smile for the small, old man walking on the shore before your tower. The bizarre figure lifted his head up, eyes squinted, his button nose curiously pointing about as he looked for the voice. 

“Over here! Good morning, sir!” You waved energetically at him, the man frowning — not that you could notice that, because of the distance and the hat. 

“Morning?” he greeted back in confusion before continuing his walk. 

Yoongi was extremely confused when he heard the voice. His night had been too long for him not to suppose he was hearing voices. Maybe his time had finally come and that was the call of some deity summoning him to whatever comes after the struggles of the living. 

What he didn’t expect was for the voice to call again, this time the source clearly identifiable. He squinted at the lifeguard tower and offered a small wave in greeting. 

She — that had to be a she — seemed to be set alight in sunlight, the early morning light making her glow in something brighter than gold. 

He had a precise image in his mind for a second, something his grandmother had told him when he was a child. Something like mythology, like Achilles’ halo of hair, or Helios who carries the chariot of the Sun. 

He shook his head and continued walking, turning around only once he was several feet ahead and her long legs had carried her in the opposite direction, her wide strides amazing Yoongi, who could just stare at her golden, looped locks bouncing as she played with the back-and-forth of the tide, running along it. 

For a second, Yoongi thought of The Girl from Ipanema, shortly before remembering all the controversies behind it, and how much his grandmother hated the song because of “the male gaze”. With chastised pupils, he let his gaze fall back to the fragments of seashells at his feet, the distant fall of her feet meeting the sound of the tide calling to his ears in a hypnotizing beat. 

All the way back to his home, Yoongi let it ring and echo through all the empty halls of his brain, until he could finally — although artificially — recreate it in the calm of his home, and let it resonate through its corridors.

Yoongi would define himself quite a reserved man. He had his home — an old Victorian-style house in the more quiet and deserted part of the bay, too inhospitable for tourists, still linked to the naval history of the cove. He had renovated the house after his grandmother had left it to him, replacing the old wooden axes with new, not rotten ones, repainting the walls and repolishing the floors, installing soundproof panels on the room he had decided to turn into his studio. 

It had only been a short while since he’d moved into the beach house; his college in San Francisco and his scholarship and research in New Orleans had sent him spiralling between opposites, diving deep into sounds he wasn’t entirely familiar with, and in a bout of homesickness and confusion, he’d decided to return to his true roots, to his true north. 

Here he could daydream of green hills and golden beaches of a faraway place that he could only imagine through the saudade of an old immigrant. He could feel the beat of that city that was nothing but an overgrown village, the roaring of cars on dirt roads, and that open-armed man that seemed to be every man, every woman, every human being in that open-armed city — that all-forgiving man that seemed to welcome strangers, with their weary feet and guilty souls. 

He knew the place that inhabited his wildest dreams, his most romanticised visions, no longer existed. It had been erased by decades of progress and politics and human greed. That place where all his bedtime stories took place was no longer, and maybe it had never been. Yet Yoongi longed to reach that all-forgiving stone man and feel, just feel how the rolling waves carried all the nostalgia and the sins and the tears of those lost souls that reached a new land hoping for fortune and maybe a brand new start. 

He too was something in between worlds. Son of a woman adopted by a foreigner and a man lost in time, somewhere. And there was nothing more foreign to him than the woman who had raised him, the same woman who had given him the house he was living in. He had always been drifting in something somewhat estranged. His mother had been a nobody, abandoned before an orphanage, the only known facts were her name — Moonbae — and that she had been abandoned as the last of sixth children, her family too poor to afford her. As a twist of fate, she had then been adopted by an American anthropologist — Yoongi’s grandma — who had always respected her will to stay away from her past. Still, loss persecuted her, her loving, if a little taciturn adoptive father passing due to a mysterious disease somewhere in Guatemala. 

It took several years for Beatrice and Moonbae to settle in the old colonial house in Honeycomb Cove; Trice had returned to her great-grandmother to assist the incredibly old lady to her last breath. Needless to say, she then inherited the house. The women lived sheltered, quiet lives until Moonbae got pregnant. A summer fling, that was all it was, the man a fleeting tourist who took a risk too many, fathering a son he would never take care of. 

His absence was filled by someone who looked the exact opposite of the little moonbeam of a child, laying pale and tranquil in his cradle, lulled by strange, exotic songs that his grandmother had perfected for him. 

Beatrice fell in love with a man who became everything to Yoongi — someone Moonbae never approved of, so much so that she decided to leave town when her son was maybe four years old. She never returned. Beatrice never looked for her either. 

Antonio was eighteen years younger than Beatrice, his skin a rich cinnamon shade, his accent so thick that it took a while for Yoongi to decipher the heavy Brazilian cadence in the man’s English. 

Yoongi preferred when Antonio spoke Brazilian Portuguese, anyways. By the time the boy was fourteen, he and his acquired grandfather easily conversed on the wooden patio, drinking lemonade, a guitar in the man’s arms. Antonio taught Yoongi everything, the boy so taciturn, so eager to listen, that the nationless musician let all his woes and nostalgia pour out. And maybe the man was no citizen, something in between an exile and a fugitive, but in that old house, he found a home, with Trice constantly refusing to marry him and loving him like a madwoman at the same time. 

Yoongi doubted love like that could exist anymore. A love so strong that when she had passed, Antonio had magically drifted away together with her a few months after, disregarding his significantly younger age. What the not-so-old man would never say was that he passed in tranquillity, knowing that he had taught his spiritual child all he had to offer. 

And just so, Yoongi won a scholarship, all because of the easy, wordless afternoons when Antonio taught him to play three instruments and speak that language that reminded Yoongi of his old cat, Sweeper, and the way he lazily rolled around in the sun. 

Now he was just a young man graduated from a prestigious music academy in San Francisco, two of his compositions had been featured as soundtrack in a couple movies, and he was already producing for a small recording studio specialised in chamber music. He didn’t make much money out of it, to be true, but sometimes he managed to have an extra income with royalties, and he was currently composing his first mixtape — for which a studio had already contacted him, and the fact that Antonio had introduced him to some of the most influential artists in the San Francisco scene had quite definitely jump-started his career. 

He was living a cool life, the kind of life he had always seen himself living. He worked at night and finished his day at seven am; then he would head out for a walk, when the sun was still gentle in summer and when it would be barely up in winter. And next, he would sleep. Wake up around five pm. Get some food ready and start all over again. He’d returned to Honeycomb Cove only six months prior, so he hadn’t yet entirely reconnected with his local social circle, plus most of his friends were still in college, which meant that it wasn’t that easy to arrange a get together. But to be true he was quite excited about Seokjin being back in town and spring break approaching. By summer come, they would all be a great team again and he would feel like he had all the time in the world. 

His musings were interrupted by the doorbell. That had to be his pizza. It was almost eleven and Gerry, the old Italian man who owned the pizza place at the end of the street, always knew that Tuesday night meant late night pizza for Yoongi. 

He grabbed the money — already perfectly calculated so he could pay for the pizza and leave a tip for the delivery boy, Pippo. But tonight it wasn't the delivery boy knocking at his door. As he opened it, he found a wondrous mass of blond curls right in front of his eyes. “Oh, hi!” 

“Hey!” The voice sounded chirpy, familiar. 

A sudden breeze pushed the stranger’s perfume past the doorway, the scent crashing over Yoongi like the surf. God she smells good, Yoongi thought, lips agape as he stared at the woman in his doorway. It was a mix of coconut and papaya, the scent overpowering the tasty smell of his pizza. 

You put on your friendliest, warmest, brightest smile, then said: “We met on the beach right? You must be Min Yoongi. I'm _____. Gerry said you always dine alone and told me you could use some company.”

“I'm not a charity case,” Yoongi replied before realising how rude he'd just been. 

“Well, that's a funny introduction, Not A Charity Case. Is that the name you chose to go by? Like Jenny From The Block?” You shook your head and looked away. “What told you it's not me who could use a friend. May I?” You asked, pointing at the door, asking if you could enter. “You can ask Gerry. He sent me. I've just arrived for the season and I could really use a friend. He told me you're a good person and you're always alone too.” 

Yoongi was almost outraged by your insolence. Were you always so blunt? He was also confused: what kind of setup was this?!

You passed him the pizza and he lifted the lid, checking that it was actually his and that you weren't an imposter, or a serial killer. 

'Take the golden retriever girl. She needs a smart friend. -G,’ read a note left inside the box.

“Yeah, I’m Yoongi,” he said, almost defeated. “Come on in, then.” If he found his house entirely stripped of anything worth money, he would sue Gerry. 

“Oh. Thank you.” You flashed him a grin. 

Yoongi's knees almost caved. What a smile. It was like… like staring at the sun. But in a good way. It was like a blue sky. Soothing. Serene. Cloudless, pacific. 

You placed your own pizza box next to his on the counter while at the same time you looked around. “Wow, your house is so pretty. Your family lives here?” 

Yoongi opened his pizza and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “I don't have a family anymore.” 

You froze. “I'm sorry.” You were already failing at this. That's why your friends all had fake teeth and a medical record thicker than your cookbook. Not to mention the average age.

“It's okay. I got used to that. You should be the lifeguard, right? Wait, would you like some beer?” 

You shook your head. “I'd like some water please.” 

Of course you would, he realised. You had to be one of those health freaks. He could already anticipate how easily he could make you run from him with his suicidal diet. 

He placed a glass beside your pizza box before sitting down and getting ready to dig in. “I still owe you the money. From the pizza.” 

“I already paid for both. I thought that since I wasn't bringing you a housewarming present, I could at least buy you some food.” You took a slice and started eating up, humming and nodding at the taste. “I get why he works so much. This pizza is heaven.”

“Yeah. All the kids here grew up on sunshine and Gerry's pizza,” Yoongi mentioned casually. He liked that you talked with your mouth full. He did, too. Beatrice had never liked that. 

“Are you from the neighbourhood?” He asked before wolfing down another slice. 

“Kinda. I live a bit farther into the mainland. I used to come here on holiday when I was little. With my parents.” You took a sip of water as Yoongi learned one more thing about you. 

“I thought so. I don’t really remember you from growing up, and me and my friends know all of the locals.” Yoongi studied your face, trying to dissect any detail that could make you familiar. 

“I see. You’ve been raised here, I assume?”

“Yup.” The silence is heavy, but at least you can distract yourself with food. “So, lifeguard? That your dream job?” He said it sarcastically, almost evilly before he realised you were nodding eagerly and happily. 

“My great-grandpa was a sailor. I've always wanted to live by the sea.” You munched on the crunchy crust, Yoongi blinking rapidly. 

Making fun of you felt like shooting a dead body. There was no use — and no mercy — in doing that. “Shouldn't you be in college or something?” 

“I took nursing school. And I'm old enough to be out of college.” Yoongi’s tone had really made that sound like an insult, but you tried your best not to assume the worst.

Yoongi tried to get on his better behaviour. You were a new person, you wouldn’t understand his sardonic tone. “I'm sorry,” he said, contrite. 

“For what? Me being a certified nurse and a person in charge of other people's lives? I know I look stupid, no need to rub it in.” You arched an eyebrow, rather fed up with the weirdness of this exchange, of the man sitting before you. You stood up and closed the box of your pizza, still half uneaten. “Sorry I disturbed your night. Enjoy your meal—” 

“Wait, no! Don't go, please.” He didn't know what suddenly convinced him to make you stay. “I was a dick, I'm sorry, let's start over.” 

You hesitated for at least three seconds and then, despite your better judgement, you sat back. “I'm ____. But my friends call me Sunny. It's my middle name. Really. My parents thought it funny.”

It suited you so damn bad. Yoongi wanted to bask in your aura in a hammock with a slight breeze and a samba playing in the distance. “It's a really nice name. It really suits your appearance. And I mean that as a compliment.” 

You breathed out the tiniest laugh. 

“I'm Yoongi and that's the only name I have. We don't use middle names.” He relaxed once you opened your box once more. 

“Where is it from?” You asked, recognising the name being foreign. 

“My mom's name is Korean. She picked a Korean one for me too. Just to remind me we're not entirely American.” He was vaguely bitter about that. Maybe just indifferent, you told yourself. That must have been tough. 

“That's interesting,” you mused, drinking some water. “How old are you?” 

Your question was naive. Childlike. “I'm twenty-three. And you're…?”

“Twenty-four. Twenty-five in a couple weeks.” You smiled and he was once more lost in how radiant you looked. 

Once you were finished eating, you rinsed your hands at the sink, helping him get rid of the boxes before shyly following him as he moved to the living room. 

“Wow.”

“It's a bit overwhelming, I know.” He looked around, analysing the room through a stranger's eyes. “My grandma was an anthropologist, my grandpa too, though I never met him. She travelled a lot and always brought back fancy things.” 

“What's this?” you asked, watching a strange fork of sorts. 

Yoongi sat down and grabbed a bizarre little stick, no bigger than a pen, with a large ball at the end. He hit the fork, a soothing, metallic sound coming out of it and the box at its base, amplifying the cold dong. “It's a diapason. It gives a specific note. This one sounds like la. Or A, whatever notation you prefer. We use it to tune instruments like guitars.” 

You nodded. “That's interesting. I like it.” 

Yoongi chuckled. “It's very soothing, right? It resonates at a frequency that has positive effects on humans. My grandma used to play it when I needed to calm down as a baby.” 

Thinking that the coarse man before you had been a baby felt baffling. “And it still relaxes you?” 

“It does. But I think it's more of a reflex. I think they trained me. Like Pavlov's dog… Wait, was that Pavlov?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a giggle. 

“Sometimes I think I was a strange experiment. That's what happens when you have two scientists in your home.” He shrugged with a funny grin on his face, his cheeks going puffy as he did so. 

“It's okay. You lived through that. You're not doing bad for a lab rat. You could be having bald spots by now,” you joked, almost expecting him to get confused or disgusted. Instead he laughed. 

His laugh was so soft. He actually looked soft, with his gums out, his cheeks puffed up, his nose curled up cutely. Yoongi was cute. Very much so. 

“So, what do you do for a living?” 

He blushed to his ears. “I'm a musician. And a producer.” 

“Wow. That sounds cool! How does that work?” Your voice was filled with wonder, making Yoongi understand that after all it wasn't like you were dumb. You were just unashamed of not knowing things. 

“I make songs. Spend too much time on the computer fixing songs for other people. And then spend a little bit of time with my instruments, going through riffs and melodies, finding little things that inspire me for longer songs or pieces.” Yoongi stopped himself from dumping all of his artistic worries over you. 

“You studied at UCLA?” you asked, knowing that was the best place for a person like him. 

“Actually, no. My grandfather got me into an academy in the city. I mean, my granny's boyfriend,” he corrected himself. Considering Antonio his grandpa had always come natural to him, but he'd never substituted himself for Trice's husband. 

“It's so cute that she found a boyfriend. You mentioned your grandpa passed so I guess she met the guy after?” You posed the question gently, wording it accurately. 

Yoongi nodded. “Yup. I was a toddler when they met.” 

You hummed. “With all respect to your grandpa, I like when old people find a partner — or at least, someone meaningful to them. It brings a lot of joy and newness in their lives. Partnered old folks have a way less lonely life. And it seems they live longer too! I read a paper for a course back in college.” 

Yoongi was pleased to receive confirmation of you being an old people's person. Hopefully you also hated kids so he could actually deem himself safe. “So you actually liked nursing school.”

You bobbed your head enthusiastically. “I’ve always liked the idea of working in a retirement home. Old people have so many stories and so little audience. I like staying with them, helping them write memories they can pass to their overly busy children and grandchildren. And they learn about technology, they play cards. They crochet! Isn't that amazing?!” you exclaimed with a radiant look on your face. 

Yoongi realised you were a genuinely generous person. You reaching out to him wasn't just Gerry forcing you to Yoongi's place, but hopefully you needing a friend. It really seemed you could use a pal your age. “And how does that pair up with your lifeguard position?” 

You shrugged. “I've always loved the beach. And splitting it with caregiving helps me from taking nursing too seriously. It helps me worry less about people… passing, you know.”

Yoongi nodded. He hadn’t thought about what it means taking care of someone day after day after day, and then suddenly they’re gone. He also thought about the different weights of a job: probably that was the same reason why it had taken him so long to work on his music while delivering piece after piece for commission. He had lost the passionate side of it.

“So, your granny's boyfriend got you into a music academy and then?” 

Yoongi smiled, then he started telling you everything about that. 

The two of you talked way deep in the night, the initial strangeness turning into easy chit-chat about school, life, family and work… It was almost one in the morning when you realised it was time for you to go. Once Yoongi noticed how long he’d been talking to you, he blushed and understood it was time to say goodnight, no matter how warm and welcome he felt at your side. 

He accompanied you to the door, then stood on the porch, waving at you before wondering whether he should accompany you home. “You’re staying here in town, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’m just five minutes away from here. I have my bike.”

“You don’t want me to drive you?” He rubbed the back of his neck as he waited for your reply. 

You shook your head. “I’m okay, don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

Yoongi realised the reason why he felt sad about you refusing was exclusively because he wouldn’t be able to spend more time with you. He was struggling to let go, after only a couple hours of chatting, and at least half of that being awkward acquainting with someone new. 

And to further increase his struggles, he could almost hear Antonio scolding him for letting go of someone that made him feel good. “Will I see you tomorrow morning at the beach?”

You were ready to leave when you heard Yoongi’s question. It sounded vaguely insecure, as if he was testing the waters. “Come meet me at seven. I’ll be there.”

Yoongi nodded to himself. He should have asked for your number. Stupid social anxiety. 

“Goodnight Yoongi!” You waved from the gate before leaving.

He stood there, arms crossed, shrinking inside his striped polo shirt, its long sleeve doing very little in keeping him warm. So unexpectedly his night had changed. He thought about the percussion riff he’d jotted down that morning around nine, laying in bed, sleepless. For all he knew, you could have possibly changed his life. 

He would remember tonight forever. 

The following day, Yoongi left his house at six forty-five. You had given him a when, but not an exact where. He was nervous. And he was somehow hoping that seeing you in broad daylight would somehow lessen your magic. 

How wrong he was. 

He waited for you at the feet of your tower, leaning against it nonchalantly while he almost ran to get there in time. Watching you arrive in sunglasses and a white sundress was definitely something. You looked like the kind of girl that could have starred in Dirty Dancing. 

“Good morning, sir!” you greeted, waving. 

“Stop treating me like an old man,” he complained, however you heard some irony in his voice. 

“Not my fault you behave like one!” you bit back, amused and maybe a little cheeky. “Hello Yoongi,” you tried again, more calmly now that you were standing before him. “I’ll go get changed quickly so we can go on a walk.”

He nodded and looked at the horizon before him, his ears blushing at the thought that you were half naked just a few steps away. You looked so lean and fit and tall and he was… He was struggling not to let his mind run wild. After all you were just a prettily shaped woman. No more, and no less. 

All the months that had passed since he’d last slept with someone weren’t a valid reason for him to think of you half naked.

“Let’s go!” you exclaimed, basically throwing yourself down the stairs and taking a few small jumps on your spot — like a golden retriever too excited about going out. You started with a jog, only to watch Yoongi’s panicked look. 

You exploded with laughter. “See, I told you! You’re an old man!”

Yoongi hid his smile with a pout before catching up with a few quick steps. “Do you need to run or can you just walk?”

“I’ll walk in the water. Helps me burn more energy and work on my stamina,” you replied, entering the water to the point it reached your knees. “You can walk on the shore. Did you sleep well?”

He looked away.

“Oh, right. You work at night. So— Did you… produce?” You looked down, careful about not splashing him. 

“Oh, yeah. The conversation with you was very inspirational,” he conceded. He hadn’t worked half as much in the last four weeks. Listening to the little riffs and chords hidden in your voice was like experimenting with a new genre. It was as if he was building a new theme for you. Something that signified your presence, but at the same time conveyed the fits and starts of meeting someone new, and getting to know them, and discovering something new about oneself from all the analogies and differences they could see with the other person. As much as he was composing about you, about the little bits he’d learned about you, he was in some way also composing about himself. 

The process had been thrilling and once he’d finished the first, roughest draft, at dawn, the music felt so vibrant that it could properly and proudly accompany the rise of the sun. It was of course still only a draft, but the way you’d talked deep into the night, the way you’d circled around things until they’d come out right, had inspired him to give it all a try. It didn’t need to be perfect, it only needed to work. And work, in the end, it did. He only wished he had sampled a piece of your conversation — that joke about him being a lab rat… the laughs that followed. It would have been great for a skit. 

“You know, I really wish I could listen to your music. I'm kind of curious about what such a quiet person considers noise worth listening to.” You looked at him. “After all, music is just very tidy noise right?” 

He smiled. “Yeah, I would agree to that.” He looked at the seashells on the shore. “I'll make you a playlist. I'll include random stuff I like listening to.”

“Oh, I'd love that!” you replied enthusiastically. “We can make a playlist for our walks!” 

Yoongi’s ears perked up at that: “walks”, plural, which meant you would do this again, soon. He was pleased at the way you had so casually hinted at creating a routine. He had someone to share music recommendations with. Someone who would maybe recommend pieces to him in return. He realised he was excited about this. So many new sensations, and none of that as unpleasant as he’d thought. He could get used tho this.

Once the two of you said goodbye, he realised he couldn't go to sleep. He was too excited about making a playlist and sharing it with you. Walking with you in the gentle morning sun. Hearing you laugh. 

Yoongi understood: he was making a new friend. 

Having walks with Yoongi became extraordinary. You started associating him with the tender colours of the shyest sunshine, and the sweet cotton scent of his shirts in the gentle morning breeze. The way his soft locks danced in the ocean air, tangling together, the way his cheeks turned into little ice cream scoops when he smiled at you as you greeted him good morning. 

Likewise, Yoongi started adoring sunshine. You ended each of his nights, bringing him into the reign of soft morning light, introducing him to a brightness he'd always much preferred doing without. Truth was that his ears had become acquainted with your vintage summer bops, with the way your steps would automatically sync up with the beat of Pumped Up Kicks when the song started playing, and your little blonde baby curls would end up bouncing by the time the first chorus came around. Sometimes you looked like one of those strange horses trained to match the rhythm of music. Dressage, wasn't that? 

And then, you loved his calm acoustic ballads, the relaxing guitar riffs that accompanied the rise of the sun. 

Once your shared routine of morning walks was sufficiently cemented, you trained him, like a stray cat, to stick around some more after your walk, convincing him to join you for a morning snack. You always brought him iced coffee and a peach jam sandwich while you drank your aloe and matcha drink before indulging in an avocado toast. He liked your mornings as much as you did. You also probably liked each other too. 

Your perfect sunny streak was tainted only by a mildly cloudy morning, during which Yoongi showed up at your tower anyway, an extra sweater on top of his long sleeved shirt. He knew you'd probably be cold. 

The striped black number seemed to be big enough for you to fill it up comfortably. After all, you were half a head taller than him, and your arms were significantly longer. At least by three or four inches, he had to admit. 

When you showed up, you looked drowsy, your hair was half low and you were carrying a different bag from usual. “Morning old man,” you called, placing your bag at the feet of the stairs. 

“Morning, Sunny. Wait. Are those actually knitting devices in your bag? Wonder Woman ____ knits?” 

“Shut up. Linda taught me. It's just something to share with the ladies at The Orchard,” you justified yourself. “We'll see if you still joke about that once you get your soft, handmade cosy sweater this winter.” 

Yoongi blinked, suddenly realising his expression had been shifting to a pout. “Are you still going to be around this winter?” 

You invited him upstairs, avoiding the question for now. Could you wait from September to May to see him again? Could you go so long without him? 

As you picked up a half knitted torso from your bag, pressing it to his face, you realised you couldn't. You also realised you had made a naive mistake. You had thought you were domesticating a stray but in the meanwhile you had opened him your home, your heart. You had invested your time in him and that made him much more than a stray. You were giving him a forever home.

“Is this for me?” he asked innocently, gently, rubbing his face against the soft, airy fabric. 

“It’s alpaca wool,” you commented drily. You already knew you would give up on your long-term dream sweater only to see him all fluffed up in the pastel mesh of colours. You smiled as he pressed it closer to his face.

“So soft,” he murmured, nuzzling up against the small piece of knitwork. The moment he opened his eyes, you realised his nose was just a tiny bit red from the chilly breeze coming from the sea, carrying a storm in its wake. His cheeks were rosy and puffy, his eyes big and dark. And his eyelashes, so dainty and insanely… flirtatious? He looked like he was seducing you for the slowest of seconds. 

You looked away, cheeks aflame. “Let’s go. Before the rain comes.”

Yoongi startled at your tone, cloudy for the first time since that night when you’d known each other too little, and he’d been unforgivably too sarcastic. He followed you like a confused pet down the stairs, then grabbed his earpods and passed one to you. 

You were especially thankful for the music now that your thoughts were too scattered for you to form sentences and make some conversation. 

“It will rain in a bunch of minutes,” Yoongi commented. “There’s no use walking today.”

You ignored him. Would he leave if you agreed with his statement? Would he think walking was pointless, and therefore there was no reason for the two of you to spend any time together today? Too lost in trying to find a meaning to how sad you felt at the thought of being apart, you didn’t realise a raindrop had hit your nose. 

The storm was coming. 

An angry guitar riff came on, The Neighbourhood blaring from the earphone as Yoongi grabbed your hand. One drop followed the other, his hand around your wrist as he tugged at your arm, running fast, faster, to a speed that felt ridiculous considering how lazy he always was. 

‘I’m going back to 505, if it’s a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive. In my imagination you’re waiting lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs, and a smile…’

You ran, faster, short of breath, the music carrying you across the sand. You didn’t even realise you were trusting Yoongi completely, even as he led you past your tower, even as he kept running while the downpour broke loose, even as The Beatles came on, singing about jars by the door and lonely people, even as the morning got so dark, the sky like a purple shiner after a rowdy pub fight. 

You kept running, Yoongi panting as the two of you finally recognised the fence of his house, the tower barely visible behind the thick cover of rain and mist. “Come on!” he gasped out. 

You kept running until you were under his porch. “What the hell, Yoongi! Why didn’t we stop at the tower!?” you scolded him, barely alive, barely breathing — how had he worn you out like this? He was way less trained than you, and yet he’d managed to run by your side, keeping your pace, ending up winded, sure, but in way better a state than you’d thought he would be.

He shook his head, bent in two, his hands gripping his knees. “I was distracted! I wasn’t thinking!”

You shook your head, too busy pulling oxygen into your lungs to fight him back. After a few breathless minutes, you sat down on the first step of the staircase. “You knew it would rain. Why did you come?”

Yoongi felt called out all of a sudden. “I— I thought you were expecting me to come. I don’t have your number so I couldn’t text you. Or call you.” He sat down beside you, his hands pressed in between his knees. “I didn’t want you to worry or think I had forgotten.” He took in a large breath. Somehow the little effort of a confession required way more air than the makeshift marathon under the storm — it was definitely shorter than a marathon. Probably not even a tenth of it. He just knew that was the longest and the fastest he’d ever run, but you were running, and you were so majestic and he just wanted to be part of it. 

Yoongi paused, gathered his courage, then murmured, “I didn’t want you to feel lonely.”

You recognised the guitar strums immediately, the song changing once more. You looked at Yoongi, Hozier’s soft voice crooning at your ear. “What about you? Were you feeling lonely?”

He looked away, too shy, too old, too used-to-it to admit it. He had no right to feel lonely when you weren’t around. He had been alone for so long, but loneliness? It had been a stranger to him until he’d learnt your name. “I don’t—”

You pushed his hair off his face, your index finger casually following the handsome curve of his jawline. “Yoongi?”

He finally turned to look at you, once more innocent in the way he seemed to seduce you. He looked so pure and for the first time you felt so desperate to taint him. You needed him to look normal and mundane and you prayed for your crush to fade, for his sinless charms to be washed away so he would show his true colours, because no man should be allowed to be perfect the way he felt perfect to you. 

“Yoongi,” you whispered, your heart tied up with pining.

‘Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.’

You hadn’t realised your eyes were closed until it was too late, the lyrics making you open them only to notice Yoongi leaning towards you, his lips protruding in the most imploring pout you had ever seen. 

You were ruined. 

You tugged the earpod off, almost throwing it to the ground before hollering a ‘see you ‘round’ and running off in the cold rain. 

Yoongi, confused, afraid, sat on his porch as he watched you disappear. 

Part 2 will be out now!!

[chirp-a-chirp]

Transcendence

Plot: A song about unconditional love has profound meaning for two of Rhodolite’s princes. A series of six stories featuring Clavis and Leon (and their eventual partners, Cassandra and Carla) and how this song is interwoven throughout their lives.  

Alternate Twist: The song is Calum Scott’s Biblical. This piece of fiction reimagines Clavis’s mom Lady Leticia writing the song for her son. Song lyrics referenced are indented throughout the stories.  

Characters: Clavis Leouch; Lady Leticia; Leon Dompteur; The Fourth Prince; Carla (OC for Leon); Richard Demandeur (Carla’s Dad); Cassandra (OC for Clavis)

Tags: Angst and Feels; fluff; unconditional love (romantic and non-romantic); OCs; mentions of slavery, terminal illness, and death of parents; sparkles...lots of sparkles

Tags Part 2: @wistfulwanderingone @ikeprinces-stuff @reborn-elven-spirit Hope y’all like this! @wistfulwanderingone thank you for letting me write this piece featuring your lovely OC Cassandra! (Seriously folks, check out her blog to learn more about Cassandra and Clavis!)

Note: There is list of characters & character pictures (OC pics thanks to neka) for each story. While each story can be read independently, the stories interweave and connect. If there's a callback to a previous story, it will be in bold red/purple font.   

Word count: 6 stories ranging from ~450 words to ~1600. ~6700 in total.

Song

Characters: Lady Leticia and (young) Clavis

Word Count: ~450

Synopsis: Lady Leticia gives Clavis a precious gift.

...

“Come dear, I have something for you.” A woman with flowing lavender hair and golden eyes led a boy of eight up a manicured path amidst the blooming rose gardens. She stopped at a clump of bushes and creeping ivy trellises near the palace. 

“But it’s not my birthday!” Little Clavis radiated excitement, his sparkling eyes darting at every rose bush as if a present would magically materialize.    

“Do I need a reason to give the joy of my life something?” Lady Leticia smiled. She was always smiling of course, but this smile was special—like the entirety of her happiness was concentrated at her son. “Now sit down like a well-behaved gentleman.”

“But how will I open my gift if I do that!?” Despite his question, Clavis sat on the grass, practically vibrating as he hugged his tucked knees. 

“It’s not that kind of present darling. Just listen to what I wrote.” Leticia stood a few feet away, her simple lavender and white dress billowing in the breeze. And then, she began to sing. 

Didn't know that I'd fall so hard Then my feet left the ground Gravity don't make no sense when you're around       

Clavis sat mesmerized. Sure, Chevalier might be the son of the queen and a once in a generation genius, but he didn’t a song written for him. He didn’t have a mom that loved him best. No one did. It was Clavis’s one advantage over his brothers. 

Leticia sang with a grace that transcended the realm of the ordinary. Her words seeped into Clavis’s veins, filling him with joy. 

I slip and wonder what I'd do If you never found me and I never found you I don't know what I'd do Well, I don't wanna see So won't you give me tonight And the rest of your life? I wanna have it all with you I wanna have it all with you

Clavis wanted it all. And with his mom, he had it. 

“I just wanted you to know I love you.” Leticia stopped singing and stepped towards her son, bending down to put both hands on Clavis’s cheeks. “But if you ever forget, remember this song and I’ll come back to you.”

“I’d never forget that mama!” Clavis propelled himself off the ground, throwing his arms around her in a fierce hug. “You’re always here.”

“My good, kind-hearted boy.” Leticia tucked a few flyaway lavender hairs behind Clavis’s ears. “I’ll always love you. No matter where I am.” 

“Can you sing it again? And again, and AGAIN?”

Leticia smiled, the picture of radiance. “OK, my dear. One more time.”

(Leticia would sing the song ten more times that day. Not nearly enough for Clavis.)

Promise

Characters: The fourth prince and (young) Leon

Word Count: ~850

Synopsis: Two boys talk about the future, with Leon making a promise that’ll reside in his heart for years to come.

Note: This story takes a premise mentioned in Leon’s Curse of Love Arc Bonus Ending and expands on it. 

...

A boy peered with wide-eyed curiosity at the singing woman, his breath fogging up the windowpane he pressed up against. His companion chuckled good naturedly. 

“If you lean any further, you’ll fall outside.” A sickly boy whose wild dark tresses and amber eyes mirrored the boy at the window smiled complacently.  

“I-I’m not interested at all.” The boy murmured to himself, moving quickly from his perch to return sitting at the foot of the bed. The window was partially open, the air carrying the woman’s melodious singing into the room. 

“That sounds like Lady Leticia. That’s your brother Clavis’s mother Leon.” 

“You mean YOUR brother’s mom.”  

“Clavis will be YOUR brother when I’m gone remember. That makes Lady Leticia your stepmother. She’s the nicest mom in the palace.”

“Your mom loves you though. Lots.” And it was true. Leon knew the fourth prince’s mom would do anything for her son. Including bringing a dirty look-a-like slave into the palace to replace him. But what she couldn’t do was look Leon in the eye. To acknowledge Leon would be for the fourth prince’s mother to acknowledge—  

“Yes, but I’m leaving her soon.” The prince seemed to read Leon’s thoughts. “And while mother loves me, Lady Leticia is the only mom that is nice to everyone.” The sickly boy patted to an open spot beside him on the bed. Leon scooted so that he and the prince sat side by side, their legs under thick purple and red quilts. The boys craned their heads as Leticia’s voice floated in the room.    

And when you open your eyes I'll be there by your side I wanna have it all with you I wanna have it all with you I wanna have it, I wanna have it all 'Cause your love is biblical It's biblical, it's biblical

“It must be nice.” Leon said under his breath. 

“What?” The fourth prince turned his head towards his companion. 

Leon’s cheeks turned light red, half in embarrassment, half in anger at himself. He needed to control his feelings better if he was going to really be a prince. But this was his friend—if anyone deserved what was honestly in his heart, it was him. The words were whispered, as if divulging his deepest secret. “To…to be loved like that.” 

The fourth prince tilted his head curiously. “You speak as if you don’t know what love is.”

“You know what my life was like before I came here!” Leon’s voice shook in barely repressed anger and anguish. His fingers curled into tight fists, fingernails leaving deep marks on his palms. “It was absolute Hell! Day after day.”

“Before then. Before you were a slave.”

“Before?” Leon grazed a hand over his chest, his index finger rubbing over lacerations covered in ointment underneath his white tunic. The last lashes Leon received before coming to the palace had been especially punishing, tearing through skin so deep there had been concern he would not make it due to blood loss. But that was typical treatment for slaves. They were replaceable, after all.         

“How could you recognize Clavis being loved if you hadn’t experienced it yourself?” The fourth prince inclined his head slightly, his bearing wise beyond his years. “You don’t remember everything that’s happened to you, when you were really young, right? There’s a good chance you were loved before. Even if you can’t recall it, your heart already knows what it is.”  

Leon chewed his lip. It was a lot to take in. 

“You don’t look like you believe me Leon.”

“I WANNA believe you.”

“That’s a start then.” The prince placed a pale hand over top of Leon’s. “You want to be a prince that’ll bring happiness to others. Be a good person. Love ties all that together. You know that instinctively. I don’t need to teach you that because someone else already did.”

Leon furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t understand.” 

“If you’ve experienced love before, you can do it again. You’ll love the people as a prince. It can happen to you as well.” 

“Me? A former slave with a borrowed name?” The words were detached yet filled with doubt. 

The fourth prince pulled Leon into a hug, his arms tightening with surprising strength. “Yes, you. My friend.” There was a slight crack in the prince’s voice. “My only friend.”

Leon returned his embrace before pulling away, not wanting to overwhelm his sickly frame. The prince laughed quietly. “See, you chose to be kind even now.”

“Because you taught me—”

“I taught you politics; philosophy; names of important people. I did not teach you kindness.” The prince squeezed Leon’s hand. “When you find love again Leon, tell me what it’s like.”

But Leon thought that love would be for you through me. No one would ever actually love ME.    

“You’ll find it Leon.” The prince’s voice was quiet but resolute. “Promise you’ll tell me when you find it.” 

His friend would not ask him something that was impossible. However improbable it was. Leon squeezed his hand back. “I promise.” 

Loved Best

Characters: Clavis Leouch, Carla (OC) and Richard Demandeur (OC). References to Cassandra (OC)

Word Count: ~1,600

Synopsis: Clavis prepares for an extraordinary performance. Carla and her dad reminisce about the past and discuss the future.

Note: The male choir mentioned in this story sing the song “Biblical” like Johns’ Boys

...

“Forgive me, I know my handsomeness makes everyone stare, haha!” A pair of golden eyes gleamed through the haze. 

Carla coughed repeatedly, bending over her knees. “Ack, the smoke cannon didn’t work as expected Clavis!” She stood back up, frantically waving smoke away. Carla smoothed her billowing skirt, squinting at the fabric before exclaiming in exasperation. “Did you put sparkles in the cannon?!” 

“A sparkle cannon.” A man with gray hair and a neatly trimmed goatee raised an eyebrow. “THAT is what my daughter was helping you with?” 

“I DIDN’T know—ack, ACK!—sparkles had been added.” Carla hacked up a few shimmery pieces of paper.   

“You speak as if that weren’t a noble task for my seeker, Richard!” Clavis clapped a hand on the older man’s shoulder. 

The trio stood on an outdoor stage near an orphanage in the town of Leouch. Richard, one of the orphanage’s directors, had arranged for a performance to raise much needed funds. Clavis had promised to host an unforgettable event, with Carla assisting him. 

As Clavis’s seeker, her official job was locating items Clavis was too distracted to find himself—gears for cannons; chemical compounds; rare spices for Clavis’s…creative culinary pursuits. However, Carla found other things as well: books for the orphanage; jobs for the unemployed; sanctuary for refugees fleeing into Rhodolite. Carla was a seeker. A seeker of connection; of people; of hope. Many of the orphanage’s children (and other citizens of Leouch) had escaped or been spirited away from Obsidian. Where formal Rhodilitian policies did not provide protection for these refugees, people like Carla and Richard filled in the gaps—with shadow assistance from Clavis.    

“Impressive, is it not?” Clavis gestured to the cannon now that the smoke had (mostly) cleared. 

Richard kneeled, sweeping away sparkles before placing his knee on the ground. His rust-colored eyes squinted as he inspected the canon and nearby diagrams of the contraption. “If you made it 20% smaller and didn’t choke it up with your nonsensical glitter paper, it would be quite effective.” 

“But the sparkles make it—”

“If you say the sparkles make it sparkle, I will shake you.” Richard’s words were sharp, but Clavis beamed unrepentantly. Richard knew when young people pretended to not care. Prince Clavis presented an irreverent façade, but Richard knew he craved positive affirmation more than most others. However, sometimes a firmer tone was required.  

“I AM a prince, remember.”

“You only pull rank when you know I’m right,”Richard retorted. He returned his gaze to the diagrams, examining them with a thoughtful hum. “If you shrunk this cannon so it could be hand-held, Carla and I could take it on our next mission to Obsidian.” Richard got up from the ground, writing notes next to the diagrams with suggested modifications. The orphanage always had something that needed repair—fixing things was second nature to him. “We could use the cannon to fill a room with smoke or obscure a path.” 

Carla nodded excitedly. “The smoke bombs you gave us last time were GREAT, but once we throw them, we can’t use them again. Imagine a mini cannon we can use repeatedly!” 

“Your beloved prince will see what can be done.” Clavis smiled. A handheld canon would inspire much mischief.

“NO sparkles though.” Richard narrowed his eyes. “It would clog the smaller chamber too much.” 

“How boring.” Clavis pouted.   

“I know someone who WOULD appreciate a sparkle cannon though.” Carla’s eyes…well, sparkled, with humor. 

“Hmmm,” Richard murmured.

Carla “whispered” conspiratorially to her father, ensuring Clavis could hear her. “The…enchantress.” 

Clavis’s eyes gave off a mysterious shine, his face turning pink. 

“Am I EVER going to see Cassandra?” Carla jabbed Clavis lightly on the shoulder. “She’s met Cyran and your seneschal. I’m starting to think this lack of introduction to me and papa is deliberate.” 

“I’m starting to think this Cassandra’s mythical,” Richard muttered to himself. "Transcending reality."

“I would be delighted for you two to meet her! When the time is…appropriate,” Clavis intoned, plastering a smile back in place. Richard and Carla were forthright, honest individuals. They would get along famously with Cassandra. And they would quickly ask how she felt about him—really felt about him. And—

He was not prepared to hear the answer. Someone like her did not deserve a fool like him.       

“And when have you cared about appropriateness?” Carla chided mildly. She chose to not press further when Clavis remained silent, his smile shaking slightly. Carla and her father exchanged a look. “We’ll be here when you’re ready to introduce us.”

“In the meantime, maybe the choir could start practicing,” Richard suggested as he left the stage, urging Carla and Clavis to follow. “NO SPARKLE CANNON though.” Clavis pouted again as Carla wheeled the cannon away. 

A group of thirty—some male Leouchian citizens, the rest boys and staff from the orphanage—gathered on stage in lavender, gold, and white choir robes. “What song did you pick Clavis?” Carla tilted her head as the trio sat towards the back of the outdoor theater.  

“Just wait and see!” Clavis answered dramatically. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.” 

The other orphanage’s co-director walked to the stage with a conductor’s baton. As the choir began to practice, Richard turned a golden ring on his left hand. He sighed wistfully. “Your mother would have loved this song.”

“I’m sure papa.” Carla quietly held her father’s hand. 

And when you open your eyes I'll be there by your side I wanna have it all with you I wanna have it all with you 'Cause your love is biblical Biblical, it's biblical

“There’s no rule that says we can’t talk about the deceased.”  Clavis spoke with unusual mildness. “She sounds like a remarkable person.”  

“She taught me how to love. I have continued the lesson with Carla. And the children I look after, of course.”

“And you have always taught this lesson alone?” Clavis asked sympathetically. 

“When you have experienced love like that, nothing else compares.” Clavis flinched, feeling like he had intruded on something he should not have. “There was life before my wife died and life afterwards.” There was an air of finality in the older man’s statement, as though if he did not end the conversation now, he would break in front of them.  

So won't you give me tonight And the rest of your life? I wanna have it all with you I wanna have it all with you

Out of nowhere, Richard spoke again. “Your mother loved you best.” 

A flicker of shock ran through Clavis. He envisioned the rose garden where his mother first sang to him. I haven’t forgotten mama Clavis thought. If I weren’t a mediocre fool, I could have saved you. And you could have still loved me.

Even if you loved me second best.

Clavis’s thoughts were interrupted by Carla. “That’s not true papa, mom—”

“I don’t say that to make you feel guilty. Your mother’s dearest wish was to see you born. She got that. I just wish...”

I wanna have it all with you I wanna have it all with you

“I wish she had had more time with you.”

“And you, papa.” Carla leaned her head against her father’s shoulder. After a few moments of silence, Carla murmured. “I wonder if I’ll ever have what you and mom had.”

“You will. One day, your heart will beat for another. Someone worthy—someone will be the hero for you that you are to others and to me.” 

“So, don’t settle for less than perfection?” The corners of Carla’s mouth lifted in a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. Papa always wanted the best. He couldn’t be anything less than protective and sentimental.

“I didn’t say that firefly.” Carla’s smile became warmer hearing her papa’s nickname for her. “Heroes are human. And vulnerable. When you allow yourself to be vulnerable, and he with you, that’s love. You’re bad at that.” 

“I’m as bad as you are!”

“See, you deflect again. You’re nearly as bad as the purple disaster!” Richard huffed, pointing to Clavis. 

Clavis blinked and smirked to cover his scrambled thoughts. “If I’m the worst, it means there’s no one worse than me. I rather like the sound of that.”  

Carla rolled her eyes. “That’s NOT a compliment.” 

“Oh, papa didn’t complement his darling girl? How rare.” Clavis waggled his eyebrows. 

“You’re impossible!” Carla slapped the palm of her hand against her thigh, eyes flaring in irritation. 

“Impossibly handsome and clever, yes.” 

“CHILDREN.” Richard evoked the stern voice used at the orphanage when the kids were unruly. Clavis was one of the few individuals that could goad Carla into her more petulant, combative moods. “I meant don’t compromise on love. You’re too good for that, firefly. You too, despite your best efforts to hide it.” Richard gestured to Clavis with a jut of his chin. 

“Has old age made you senile?”

“My daughter may be stubborn, but she will not run when she finds her match. YOU, however,” Richard looked the third prince in the eye. “It will take years of patience and care to remove the walls you’ve built up, brick by brick. But eventually, someone will remove enough bricks to allow an opening into your heart. And they will love you as you deserve. And that love will be so strong there will be no room for even YOU to doubt her.” 

A pair of enthralling emerald eyes materialized in Clavis’s mind. A small hole pierced in Clavis’s heart at the vision, allowing a modicum of warmth to seep through. Just as quickly, the hole was patched up.  

Not yet. I must be sure Cassandra will stay.     

Story

Characters: Leon Dompteur and Carla (OC)

Word Count: ~1550

Synopsis: Leon and Carla unveil their deepest secrets/pain.

...

“I miss him. So much.” Carla sobbed, her head buried in the folds of Leon’s black shirt. 

Loneliness. It was something Leon knew well. He had traded the dismal dreariness of a slave’s tunic with the refined radiance of a prince’s robe. But the loneliness remained the same. He hated that Carla was feeling that now. 

Leon pulled Carla closer to him. The pair sat near a half-finished Clavis pit in the palace rose gardens, feet dangling off the muddy edge. The sun was setting below the Castle’s pristine white walls, the sky’s pink and golden hues slowly transforming into inky blues and violets. 

Leon felt useless, utterly useless. There was nothing for him to do. Carla’s father was gone. Grief for a beloved parent did not come with an instruction manual. But he could hold her—offer warmth, a semblance of security, when Carla had none.    

Carla turned her head from Leon, wet cerulean eyes looking down into the pit. “If I fell into darkness, would you catch me?” Carla flinched at her own words and their warbled inflection. What was she saying? Why was she saying it? Why couldn’t she get her father’s final moments out of her head even after all this time?

An arm encircled tighter along her waist. Calloused fingers traced slow, soothing circles below Carla’s ribs. “If you allowed it.” A huff of breath rumbled against Carla’s copper and ruby locks.

“No, that’s a lie. I’d do it regardless, even if you hated me for it,” Leon murmured. He tugged himself and Carla away from the pit, placing Carla’s curled form in his lap, arms enfolding her. Without conscious thought, Leon spoke the words from Lady Leticia’s song he heard all those years ago.  

If you evеr go to pieces Fall between thе thunder clouds I will put you back together, I won't let you down

“I won’t fall to pieces Leon.” Carla hated how pathetic she was acting, nestling her face against the crook of his neck, hands clinching the fabric of his shirt. Leon's words recalled bittersweet memories of her and her dad with that song. She didn’t want to show the trail of tears dripping down her cheeks (she was sure he could feel them dribbling down his skin, but Leon chose not to comment on it). “And I could never hate you. You’re too kind a person for that.” 

“You make me sound nicer than I am.” A low-throated rumble transformed to a rueful laugh. Dark hair tumbled over Leon’s face, tickling her forehead.

“No, I’m not. Take the compliment for once,” Carla sniffed. She found herself wanting to touch Leon’s dark locks—soft, gentle, free. She wanted to bind herself to something beyond the swirl of grief enveloping her.

“Maybe it would help if you talked about your dad.”    

This is just like Leon. Always listening to people’s burdens. What about him? Carla blinked a few tears away, her head moving slightly from Leon, eyes averted from his gaze. And then she saw them—for the first time, really saw them. 

Scars. 

They were faint, but still visible with the setting sun. Two angry lines ran across the top part of Leon’s chest that peeked out from his partially unbuttoned shirt, their fury lashing out. Smaller scars were interspersed with callouses on his hands. Carla was all but positive there were others hidden beneath layers of cloth and the casual but glittering confidence Leon projected.

“Kindness should go both ways.” Carla’s voice shook. She raised her head and straightened her back, turning slightly in Leon’s lap so she faced him. 

“You are kind, Carla.” The pad of Leon’s thumbs wiped away falling tears.       

Leon will always redirect attention from himself. Unless…“I’ll make you a deal.” The corner of Leon’s mouth lifted at her attempt to bargain with him. “I’ll share stories of papa…”

When you allow yourself to be vulnerable…

“…if you share how you got these.” Carla’s fingers grazed a path of a scar on Leon’s chest. 

When you allow yourself to be vulnerable, and he with you, that’s love. Even now, her father’s words guided her. 

Leon caught his breath, his smirk evaporating. Arms that always seemed so strong trembled slightly. He couldn’t bring himself to lie, not to her. He didn’t regret his decision to live as the fourth prince, but he despised the taint of deceit that always followed him with that choice. And the distance he was forced to keep from his heart to enforce that choice. For once, he didn’t know what to say. Leon buried his head against Carla’s shoulder to avoid her look. 

He silences himself when he’s meant to roar. For several moments, the only thing heard was the intake of breath. “Thank you for not lying to me,” Carla whispered, her hand cradling the back of his head.

“I didn’t say anything though.” Leon’s arms tightened around her, as if afraid she’d disappear from admitting even this. 

“You could have claimed they came from battle. But you didn’t. And that’s not where they came from, is it?” It was less a question and more a statement. 

Leon raised his head, his expression giving away nothing. “What makes you so sure?”

“They’re too old looking for them to have happened to you as a soldier.” Carla’s voice was calm at first, but rose in volume, anger creeping in. Anger at whoever inflicted these wounds on him. “And most soldiers don’t carry whips as weapons.” 

“Why do you think they’re whip marks?” Leon did not contradict her previous remarks. Carla’s heart lurched at that. 

“Papa and I helped people who’ve been in Obsidian slave camps. I know what whip marks look like.” Carla continued, her eyes watering again as she envisioned Leon bracing himself against the lash of rawhide. “And if those scars didn’t happen when you were a soldier…” Carla gasped at her train of thought. “They happened when you were a child.”  

A deep, bone-weary sigh escaped Leon. “You’re too perceptive for your own good.” He sounded apologetic, as if Carla had stumbled upon a burden she now had to carry.  

“If you don’t want me remarking on your scars, consider buttoning up your shirt more.” Carla sniffled. Leon’s arms loosened as he tried to move away. Carla quickly pulled Leon back towards her, fingers gripping his upper back. “Don’t you dare let go. Please.”

The please got to him. It was as much a demand as it was a plea—for them both. Leon’s eyes widened and then closed in stark relief, his arms coiling around Carla’s back. “Most folks don’t get close enough to notice.” 

“Because you don’t let them.”

“Consider it a Carla-exclusive perk.” 

Carla’s heart fluttered at his words. “Whatever your truth is, I won’t think less of you for it.”

Leon tilted his head upwards, staring at the sky—a movement so habitual, it was practically automatic. He then looked back down at Carla, his amber eyes burning intensely. “It’s…quite a long story.”  

“Good thing there’s no reading involved then.” 

Ahhh, you really are too much Carla. “Hey, your deal was a story for a story. I won’t hide from this if you don’t.” 

A moment’s hesitation flickered in Carla’s expression. Leon caught her gaze and held it. If Leon can be brave, so can I. With a fortifying breath, Carla released her grip from Leon’s shoulders and began. 

“Once upon a time, there was a girl who held the world in her hand. That world w-was—” Carla stuttered to a stop, her throat catching. “That world was her papa. The pair lived alone, but with papa, the girl was never lonely.”  

Carla’s mouth trembled. Not trusting her voice, Carla shook her head. Leon placed a finger on her lips. “We can take turns if you like.” His eyes softened when she nodded.  

“Once upon a time, there was a boy with no name. Maybe he had one, but it’s been lost to history.” Carla’s body stilled entirely in his arms. “The boy’s first memory was holding bark in his hand. He was hungry, and there was nothing else to eat.”   

As the night wore on, Carla was in awe. She held in her arms a man who had been hurt so much but refused to be hardened. She saw a man who reflected light because he did not want others to feel encroaching darkness like he had. She grasped Leon’s hand, as if she could reach out to the little boy who held nothing but the peeled remains of dying trees.

Leon’s hand grasped back, fingers curling against hers. And then, an image flashed in his mind—several berries being placed in his hand alongside the bark. 

I’m sorry dear. It’s all I have. 

Leon desperately tried to place the disembodied voice with the fragment of memory but couldn’t. But he knew one thing. The voice ached for him. And he had been loved before.

Leon’s fingers moved towards the berries, but instead found something more. His fingers were entwined with Carla’s, her hold tender, but refusing to let go.    

“When you find love again Leon, tell me what it’s like.” The fourth prince’s words rang in Leon’s mind. And finally, after all these years, he had an answer. 

Love left him breathless. It left his heart searing with warmth, seeking light that had long evaded him. 

It left him free.  

Enchanted

Characters: Clavis Leouch and Cassandra (OC)

Word Count: ~1450

Synopsis: Clavis surprises Cassandra with an unforgettable night.

...

A gentleman must always entertain his audience. But allow me to surprise you. 

“Close your eyes, enchantress.” Clavis’s endearment fell from his lips, a melody that caressed Cassandra’s ears. She wished she could hear her name spoken again in such tender tones—a refrain that, if granted, would make her heart soar.

“Isn’t that a tad excessive?” Cassandra retorted playfully. She could easily picture a breathtaking smile brimming with wonder. Each time they were together, she felt an unspoken harmony between them, one that resonated deep within her. “Afterall, I’m already wearing a blindfold.”

“Two blindfolds dearie.” Clavis bopped Cassandra’s nose twice, his index finger lingering on the tip of her nose with the second bop. Cassandra instinctively leaned forward, missing Clavis’s touch when his hand sauntered away. He had a way of lingering in her thoughts, his teasing mischief inspiring her to enjoy the moment. 

Speaking of inspiration…Cassandra heard something moving, her heart thrumming with anticipation. She sat on a bench, in a location within the palace rose gardens she rarely explored. Yves and Licht had warned her this area of the gardens was where Clavis experimented the most with his pit traps (and the 5th and 6th princes had the dirt-stained clothes to prove it). Not that they needed to caution her on this—besides Chevalier, Cassandra was the only person at the palace who hadn’t fallen into one of Clavis’s traps. 

“Move it a little more to the left.” 

Even with multiple layers of cloth, Clavis could envision Cassandra’s delicate eyebrows lifting wryly as she spoke. And her eyes—shiny emeralds that captivated with grace and tart humor, were ones Clavis could easily get lost in if he allowed it. “Do I need to add a third blindfold?”  

The force of Cassandra’s tinkling laughter moved the blindfolds just enough for her to see the faint flush of pink on Clavis’s cheeks. She quickly readjusted the cloth to cover her eyes as to not ruin the surprise Clavis had put his heart into producing—whatever it was. 

“No, you need to move whatever it is you have to the left.” Cassandra’s feet shuffled in anticipation. When she didn’t hear Clavis move, Cassandra decided to spur him to action. “You know, I bet Carla would agree with me. Maybe that’s why you won’t let me meet her.” Cassandra had heard many stories from Cyran about Carla—Carla procured most of the items for Clavis’s traps and experiments, a job Cyran was very grateful to not be saddled with. Between collecting things for Clavis and working with former Obsidian refugees, Carla seemed like a fascinating individual. 

Not as fascinating as Clavis, Cassandra thought. No one is.    

A quick, sharp burst of jealousy tore through Clavis at the mention of his seeker’s name. He did NOT want his enchantress to be thinking of anyone else besides him in this moment. “You will meet Carla when it is…appropriate.” 

“Do you know what appropriate means Clavis?” Cassandra murmured. 

Oh Hell, Cassandra and Carla would get along all too well. Clavis had thought this more than once in his life. Both ladies had remarked on Clavis’s questionable perceptions of appropriateness. But while he and Carla bickered with the familiar but fierce affection akin to siblings, he and Cassandra danced an elusive tango of delicate flirtation.  

Cassandra gave him everything—her laughter, her patience, her impatience. She was the first person in two decades who made him feel like he was enough. After years of banter, they had built a rapport with one another—one where Cassandra felt free to drop her walls and the lofty expectations placed upon her by her family. Over time, Clavis had seen a glimmer of defiance from her noble upbringing, and it had become a powerful beacon that shown within.  

Moreover, she stayed with him. And she seemed all the more delighted for it. 

“This performance is for your eyes only. But, as a gentleman, I will move your surprise as requested. Which left should I move it towards?” 

“There’s only one left!”

“My left or yours?” 

“Why don’t you pick then?”

“I thought there was only one left I could choose dearie.”

Cassandra was delicate like fire, her words playful, hinting at the ability to scorch if truly provoked. Yet her essence was all warmth. “Why don’t you pick the left that is…appropriate then?”

With a chuckle, Clavis wheeled his new and improved cannon from behind a pink rose bush. The cannon was designed smaller per the recommendations of Carla’s father. Clavis winced subtly at the memory of Richard. He was gone far too soon. The one specification Clavis did NOT adhere to—he kept the sparkles. Cassandra deserved the best after all.  

“Clavis, are…are you sure I deserve this?”

Clavis turned his head upon hearing Cassandra’s hesitant tone. Her question was not a feeble ploy of feigned doubt disguised as flirtation like many noble women were taught. Clavis knew Cassandra would occasionally throw a spark of doubt at herself, a spark that could rage into an inferno quickly. Who better to diagnose crippling doubt than a mediocre fool like myself? 

“Absolutely. No one is more worthy.” Clavis spoke seriously, prepping the cannon to be ignited. 

Cassandra bit her lip, her thoughts scattering at Clavis’s sincerity. In moments like this, when the carefree mask of Clavis was gone, and their light banter pushed aside, it was impossible to ignore how she needed him. Before Clavis, Cassandra lived within the shadow of her family and what they permitted for her. Without Clavis, Cassandra forgot how to live, how to find joy in the unexpected and the unimagined. But now…

Cassandra lowered her face. Even while wearing blindfolds, she could feel the intensity of Clavis’s gaze. She then spoke with quiet reverence.

I slip and wonder what I'd do If you never found me and I never found you I don't know what I'd do

“How…how do you know those words?” Clavis blinked in astonishment. His hand slipped from behind the cannon, unaware that he had now lit a rather shortened fuse. “Surely you haven’t heard that song—"

“Song, what song?” Now it was Cassandra’s turn to be confused. “I…merely spoke what’s in my heart when I think of you.”

My God, Clavis thought. She’s an enchantress. She’s an ACTUAL enchantress. I really MUST—

BOOM!

There was a cacophony of sound—a cannon explosion, feet shuffling and stumbling, Cassandra coughing as smoke billowed all around, and Clavis yelling in shock before—

THUD!

Cassandra yanked the blindfolds off, coughing as lavender smoke sprinkled with golden sparkles swirled in the air. She suspected the smoke wasn’t supposed to be this pervasive. Her eyes widened once she saw an outline of a cannon through the haze, and widened even more when she didn’t see Clavis. 

“Ugggh…”

Cassandra walked past the cannon, squinting through the smoke to see a half-finished pit trap. At the bottom was a disheveled, slightly dazed Clavis. Clavis raised his head, waving his hands to clear his vision, and at the sight of Cassandra, wholly wished he could bury himself alive. He sighed inwardly, trying to not unravel each flaw before her.

“Are you OK?!”

Clavis could only nod. To do anymore would break the control he tried desperately to hold onto.

And then, the most remarkable thing happened. “You DID promise me a surprise. You certainly delivered that.” 

There was no mockery in her statement. With one fell swoop, Cassandra managed to both unsettle and sooth him.

“I’m touched. No, really Clavis. No one has ever done something this extraordinary for me before.”

Extraordinary? You really think so? Clavis couldn’t believe it.

“CASSANDRA?!” Yves’s voice pierced through the air. “I heard an explosion!”

The lavender haze still obscured Cassandra from Yves’s line of sight. Without thinking, Cassandra jumped into the pit, fumbling a bit until she was laying down next to Clavis. 

“Well, you finally fell into one of my traps dearie.”

“I don’t think it counts if I willingly jumped in.” Cassandra leaned her head against his shoulder. 

“Oh, I suppose so. I’ll just have to double my efforts then.” Clavis bopped Cassandra on the nose, his playful demeanor almost completely back.

“Can we stay here a little longer? Before Yves finds us?” Cassandra dared to ask. She did not want the night’s adventure to end. “We could watch the stars.” Clavis did not point out the impracticality of this with the smoke. 

“Oh look. Hehe!” Cassandra’s laugh was unguarded and full of joy as the wind carried numerous golden sparkles that floated into her outstretched hands. At the sight of her laughter, Clavis remembered his mother’s singing. 

I come up against myself when Demons in my head get loud I don't know how you do it, but you turn them down

“It’s like the stars have come to us!” Cassandra took the sparkles and placed them in the third prince’s hand. “Thank you Clavis.”   

Clavis smiled softly. No, thank you, enchantress. For thinking I’m worthy. For caring for me. For loving—

Maybe you do love me best. 

Transcendence 

Characters: Clavis Leouch; Leon Dompteur; Carla (OC); Cassandra (OC)

Word Count: ~800

Synopsis: Sparkles. Lots of Sparkles. And six stories connecting together.

...

“Blindfolds, again Clavis?” Cassandra murmured in amusement. “This is starting to feel like de ja vu.”   

“Clavis blindfolds you on a regular basis?” Carla tittered, her copper locks swaying lightly. She and her dear friend Cassandra sat in a rose covered gazebo within the palace gardens, their eyes concealed with golden blindfolds. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s on a regular basis…”

“Tut, tut, tut!” Two fingers encased in a white glove lightly touched Cassandra’s mouth, tracing her lower lip. Clavis tilted Cassandra’s chin so he could better view her rosy face. “Don’t give away our secrets my lovely lover!” 

“I AM surprised at how you’ve corrupted Leon!” Carla turned her head towards the direction of Clavis’s voice.  

“My little brother is quite the mischief maker beneath his golden image.” Clavis preened with pride. “He didn’t need much convincing.”

“I did say your night was gonna change forever.” Leon grinned shamelessly. 

“When you told me to take your hand, I didn’t think I would be blinded later.” Despite her grumbling, Carla was thoroughly enjoying herself.

“Blindfolds can add a little spice to things,” Cassandra chimed in. 

Carla chuckled. “I bet Leon has a giant smirk on his face.” 

“Hey Clavis, you got another blindfold? I think my lioness can see us.” 

“Ha! I think Carla can see through YOU.” Clavis smacked Leon on the back. “And no, no more blindfolds. But I DO have rope if a certain seeker is being naughty.”

“I am NEVER procuring you rope again Clavis!” Carla stomped her foot on the ground. “I know Sariel, Yves, and Licht would be thrilled!”  

“Ropes ALSO can add a little spice to things…” 

“Don’t talk about spices Cass. I just had to buy the oddest seasonings for your prince—do you know how difficult it is to find purple—Hey!” Carla giggled as she was lifted from her chair. Her hands looped around Leon’s neck as he sat down. 

“There aren’t enough chairs. Guess we gotta share.” Leon’s voice nipped at Carla’s ear, his nose nuzzling against her cascading locks as he placed her in his lap. “Don’t let go. Keep your eyes on me.”  

“That’s kinda hard to do with—!" Carla gasped as the blindfold was pulled down towards her neck by Leon’s teeth.   

“I’m pretty sure there are plenty of spare chairs in the Castle.” Cassandra replied, smirking. 

“Shhh!” Leon and Carla placed a finger on their lips. They turned, and upon seeing their expressions mirroring one another, burst out laughing.  

“And Clavis, would a gentleman keep his lady—”

“You’re absolutely right, enchantress.” Clavis removed Cassandra’s blindfold with a theatrical flourish before placing his hand back in her lap. “Just wait everyone. My brother and I have a grand surprise.” 

A group of ten men appeared in front of the gazebo facing the two couples. Carla’s eyes widened as she recognized the lavender, gold, and white choir robes the group wore. Suddenly, twin explosions erupted nearby, lavender and red smoke rising in the air.  

“The cannon!” Cassandra exclaimed in delight. “Two of them!”

“You got it to work! And with the sparkles!” Carla beamed, glittering paper cascading all around.  

Clavis grinned at their reactions, his excitement infectious. “With a few modifications, nothing is impossible. Plus, Leon helped.”

“Actually, one of my soldiers has a brother who’s a weapon-smith helped out.” Leon combed his fingers through Carla’s hair to remove sparkles. 

“Sparkles as weapons. And entertainment.” Cassandra laughed, her eyes dancing. 

“Oh, there’s more to enjoy.” Clavis gestured as the choir began singing. 

Didn't know that I'd fall so hard Then my feet left the ground Gravity don't make no sense when you're around

Each person watching the performance was caught in their own thoughts and memories.

Carla’s eyes shimmered with affection, her hand grasping Leon’s. Once upon a time, there was a girl who held the world in her hand. She did not need words to tell the story that was in her heart.

Leon held Carla close, basking in her warmth. 

“Love can happen to you as well.” 

“Me? A former slave with a borrowed name?” 

“Yes, you. My friend.”

She would always be there for him, regardless of who he was.

Cassandra caressed Clavis’s cheek. “You really are the best, love. Never forget that.” I merely spoke what’s in my heart when I think of you.

Clavis brought Cassandra’s hand towards his lips, kissing her palm. 

I love you. But if you ever forget, remember this song. He would never forget. Cassandra was here to stay, her love healing the fractured parts of his heart.

So won't you give me tonight And the rest of your life? I wanna have it all with you I wanna have it all with you

And the two pairs knew that they always would.

[jasper-book-stash]

January 2025 Reading Wrap-Up

I read 12 books this (neverending) month and somehow not a single one of them was under a 7 out of 10. How the fuck did that happen? Anyway, this year, if a book is targeted at a non-Adult demographic, I'll be noting it in several parts.

1/10 - Why Did They Publish This?

None applicable.

2/10 - Trash

None applicable.

3/10 - Meh

None applicable.

4 to 6/10 - Mid-Tier

None applicable.

7 to 8/10 - Good With Caveats

Spark Joy: An Illustrated Master Class On The Art Of Organizing And Tidying Up | Marie Kondo

After reading Marie Kondo's "The Life-Changing Magic Of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art Of Decluttering And Organizing", I compared it to this one as I went to see how it worked. While both are focused on decluttering (in a way that Marie Kondo now agrees is a bit much, according to the people I've talked to while reading this book), this one gets a lot further into the actionable steps instead of the theory, featuring step-by-step folding guides for all sorts of things.

Gwen & Art Are Not In Love | Lex Croucher [Young Adult]

This is a Young Adult historical romance. Despite the emphasis of Arthurian legend in the summary, it is not a retelling and does not have magical elements. At best, there are some folk magic bits that don't launch this into the fantasy category because they are all easy to write off (and are written off in the narrative itself). I enjoyed reading it, and it very much needed all 410 pages. My only complaint is that I really, really would have enjoyed seeing how exactly the problem at the ending was resolved, but I'm getting used to the fact that books from Book of the Month don't have a solid and actual ending. I still liked reading this, however.

Interesting Facts About Space | Emily Austin

This is the kind of book you read when you want to read about someone whose life is a much larger mess than yours is. Despite wrapping things up fairly neatly at the ending, one of the things brought up in the summary never gets explained or resolved in a way that just feels annoying. It feels like a badly-implemented cliffhanger for sequel bait, and I don't have the energy to dig up "actual ending" fanfics for every book I read. I did have to recategorize it in my spreadsheet because it's a lot less "romance" and a lot more "contemporary hot mess". The protagonist is a disaster lesbian, with heavy emphasis on the "disaster" part.

9/10 - Very Very Good

Brokeback Mountain | Annie Proulx

So uh. I found this one in a bunch of donated books from a library patron. So of course I grabbed it. I read it for the January meeting of my library's book club. There was a lot more being sad than I expected, considering how Brokeback Mountain was usually explained to me. I still had a good time reading it because sad gay cowboys are, in fact, one of my interests.

Skull Scrying: Animal Skulls In Divinatory Trance Work | Lupa Greenwolf

I got this book out of a big divination bundle from Lupa's store that included a tarot deck, a tarot deck guidebook, two minibooks, and a ready-to-go osteomancy set. I ended up reading this one first out of the bundle because I cohabitate with a whitetailed deer skull named Skull Friend, and the idea of scrying has always fascinated me even though I can't do it for shit. (What do you mean, "clear your mind"? I have intrusive thoughts and shit, it's physically impossible for me to do that.) This is a small book at only 32 pages, but it's incredibly information-stuffed. When I say a book could have been a blog post/zine, this is a good example. I did have a few bones to pick with it, but those aren't enough for me to bump it down to the Good With Caveats section.

Pocket Osteomancy: A Simple Bone Divination Set | Lupa Greenwolf

This is another, even smaller (24 pages) book and is clearly meant to be in the same category as tarot guidebooks, but since I have had 0 experience with osteomancy before, I figured I'd read through this whole thing. It was just as interesting as the skull scrying book and started me on the path of slowly re-exploring death magic and getting into proper nature and animal-related magic.

Werewolf Magick: Authentic Practical Lycanthropy | Denny Sargent

This book somehow wound up here despite several problems I had with it just because it was so damned useful. Review (or rather, bulletpoints) here.

A Witch's Ally: Building A Magical Relationship With Animal Familiars & Companions | Dodie Graham McKay

This is another book that somehow wound up here even though I felt the shoe drop a few times. Honestly this one is probably more useful than Werewolf Magick for the average mage. Review (or, again, bulletpoints) here.

My Roommate Is A Vampire | Jenna Levine

This is a romcom paranormal romance brought to us by the Reylos. And you know what? It was fucking hilarious. I had a great time reading it. I genuinely enjoyed it the most of the romance-related books I read this month. I did keep getting the gay couple (Scott and Sam) confused because both of the names started with S, but that's because I'm bad at keeping track of a book's side characters. Also, they very much have sex. Several times. I ended up skipping those parts, but they get raunchy once they finally get together.

10/10 - Unironically Recommend To Everyone

Doctor Esperanto And The Language Of Hope | Mara Rockliff, Zosia Dzierzawska [Juvenile]

This 40 page biography is technically classified as a Juvenile biography in Missouri Evergreen, but I'd argue that this is such a low reading level that it would fall in the Easy category if Missouri wasn't so terrified by the thought of a biography about a Jewish man. Regardless, I enjoyed reading it as the introduction into my poking of Esperanto. I'm not surprised that it smoothed over the more uneasy parts of Dr. Esperanto's life (like the Zionism and the Hillelism), but it was a good introduction leading to...

Bridge Of Words: Esperanto And The Dream Of A Universal Language | Esther Schor

Part biography of the Esperanto language (particularly the life of its creator) and part biography of the author (a Jewish woman) interacting with various parts of the Esperanto community, I found this to be a fantastic and far more thorough book for the subject overall. I was glad I read this after the other biography.

Destroy All Humans. They Can’t Be Regenerated, volume 2 | Katsura Ise, Takuma Yokata

Yes, yes, this is volume two of the MTG manga that's being reprinted. And I fucking adore it. I love seeing an overconfident male protagonist get his ass beat. Also one of the characters reads as hella genderqueer but that's probably because both of the other characters are reading them in opposite gender directions. I'm enjoying this series, even the young romance that's cropping up between the male and female protagonists.

[sandwormrp]

Watch Party: Children of Dune

Here's a transcript of the nonsense we were discussing while watching Episode 1 of Children of Dune. It was a lot of fun. We'll be doing it all again in 2 weeks for the next episode!

Enjoy!

Yeah, these are the events of Messiah, then Children afterward So you're watching Dune Part Three, essentially

Somewhat nun-like robes on the attendants with Alia

There are always old folks grouching about how the young people behave

paul makes the mistake of reading the comment section

I'd be freaking out too if my unborn child was harassing me through time and space already

'dad can i have a grilled cheese' 'dad' … 'dAD'

Omg is this a corrino

Yes

I can tell, they don't fall far from the tree do they

I love Wencicia's team rocket villain vibe. (1) very villain (2) not in a million years gonna get that pikachu

'whatever the need, we have the breed' i wonder who came up with that slogan

I'll stop looking at it, see if that helps

oh no i was pronouncing it ghoula gowla

I def prefer "cha-knee" over "chain-ee"

It's gif not jif!

Frank Herbert himself had some interesting ideas about how to proncounce the words and names he used.

WOAH LOOKAT THAT HAT

Jawbone hat

Ribbed for muad'dib

Makes a convenient backscratcher too

Son, put your shirt on, seriously

Can't rn future son wants a caprisun

Imagine trying to manage all these goobers AND Alia too

Is this a Corrino I see before me? Its handle t'ward my hand?

You know irulan is scrawling down scathing things

'aliaa sucksss'

Alia's blog is peak bitchy Irulan hate-reads Alia's blog posts

In the book, Irulan actually makes the cuckolding threat right to Paul himself. It's an interesting exchange.

'cuckhold him all you like; this LINE

Don't mind me, just sweeping up the shattered Bechdel test …

that child is like 6 years old, what do you mean its his turn

TO BATTLE CHILD

wendy !!! wendy what about parental love!!!

Caw caw motherfucker

the caws add to the dramatics

And there's someone with his shirt off already Look on the bright side, he could be a child in House of the Dragon

Ghoul - Ghola Golem - Ghola

I always though GO-la Yeah, he's a fuckin' Go-la, mate

man mad that ruler of the universe does not come around for tea anymore

Yeah what gives He used to write me poems and stuff Ghosted by the Emperor

Get darted, buddy

Music player: I didn't see shit

above her paygrade when you ban your grandma from your planet

I liked how in the book they go into how Scytale has an ethic as an assassin where he always gives his target a chance to escape & genuinely feels bad in a compartmentalized way

MY HOUSE, MY RULES NOW GRANMA

Sassy-ass seating pose Chill out Paul

He's a thing to look at

Definitely kind of a mermaid look with the legs bonded together

he lookslike the neomodians (not spelling that right) from star wars and paul looks like neil patrick harris

Hayt from the book had metallic eyes, too, pretty cool

"He's also trained as a sex toy, sire"

'cool eyes' is suuuch a fun element to a story and we're 0/2 so far with implementation

irulan is slayinggg

I love her dramatic cage Dangit the secret language will stay secret

Oh its cool to see the training things in action. I imagined them different from the books description

Oh theres the naked

Wha— is that his sister or chain

That's his sister.

oh well that's awkward

Frank would be pleased

i like how they're keeping with the same music throughout the entire thing

oh they're speeding through this book

Ah yes, the spitting disease, of course The disease that makes you spit

Paul: pls see a doctor

are we not concerned by that wording

"empty me as your will"

Bijaz is to Dune Messiah as Mushroom is to Fire & Blood kinda

thomas the train engine crashes through a wall

"paul what are you doing in the road" "getting hit by a car like I had a vision I would? was I supposed to just not go in the road"

Irulan: I was here first

something chani would never say from denis version but book accurate right

Movie chani would be going in there SWINGING

yeah this version is very sweet

Lady I'm just playing with my balls, you came to talk to me

i feel speaking in italics

The vibes, Alia. I feel the vibes.

Alia displaying her red flags

"I can handle it-" cuts to spider curled on the floor

oh her silly hat is great

i adore her silly hats

Best silly hat

Imagine her bird flying into that accidentally Cute lil ship Is it from Naboo?

CALADAAAAN

Jessicaaa Jessica!!! jessica!!!

Let her vacation in peace away from her wretched children

so obviously green screen

The greenest of screens

they live in a cool screensaver

They live in a scene from that Encarta digital encyclopedia

oh but i love it, its so camp

Son being the original troll lmfaoo

Lemme get drunk on you instead

Glad I'm not the only one seeing that hahaha

ooh i like his black eyes

aww look at his lil mermaid outfit I bet they did that for the lols

He looks like a harpy

Fingerprint wall goes hard

It really does, I love that Smacking the glass LMFAO BAD FISH smack

i think i am in love with her

Book Edric did get bullied quite a bit, lol

He really did

plans within planss. i think it was said in the denis version too. is it repeated in the books a lot?

A couple times if I remember right

that's a neat sandworm

Lol the teeth

Imagine trying to get a tooth from that

somethin out of the thing

Worm dentists must get paid pretty well

couldntitjustdigdown

Now to their credit, those grapple things were actual props there

Didn't we learn anything from jurrassic park

Not for around 10 movies now

"dw I'll just go lie to her again about having eternity"

"Hey babe, about that eternity? Turns out the store is all out of it. Sold out completely." “People are panic-buying eternity."

what made his eyes go black? i mightve missed that

The 'stone burner' weapon

He won a small person and got blown up

The conspirators used an atomic-type weapon, but Paul was on the edge of it and his eyes were burned out.

Even though the conspirators knew exactly what house Paul was going to.

Oh that isn't terrifying

the warcrys hmm hmm hmm hmm

two bros in the same tank

five feet apart

Jar buddies!

hallucination: hmm hmm hmm hmm

Same tank, like Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny Devito

getting into fremen music would be so neat

when paul first came in like "i stepped in a puddle" i was like: this is the dumbest thing you can say until I remembered arrakis

maybe a wandering kind of tune? like you could try to guess the next note but be wrong every time

Hahahaha guess which planet Semuta comes from

See that statement, "What do you see with those eyes" is a little less impactful when his eyes are just normal juicy eyeballs

Alia: dibs on the robodick

I do like how the blue eyes glow in response to spice (even if they're Wrong)

The eyes of Ibad

Paul is very zen considering Irulan was practically poisoning Chani to get rid of the baby

maybe the standards are different when you've killed 1004494949 trillion people

OH THEY KISS

Paul this ain't going to make things easier?

The dramaaaa

A much more modest kiss thank goodness Oh I forgot about this

that looks uncomfortable

why is he doing that with his hips

With his pants on no less

sounded like a fight

Walking the dude out into the street still full-mast

That shot looks pretty good! Her on the cliff looking out Not bad for 2000's

yeah and "i am a desert creature, I know when to hide"

I love that they include their lil chat from the books Love how everyone is telling duncan he's scared

why she sound like that

LMFAO gma still in her cage

we should use cages more on sandworm we don't use cages enough

Hm mm Increase cages, noted

Ones with just a table and a lil chair

oh they put his pants on!

lol dramatic face shots of him to her birth

that's nice of them

This music is not quite tonally there…

Scared they were gonna show us his nakedness then Thank god hes wearing pants now, which poor guard had to do that?

Is this really the music we want for murdering attempted assassins and painful childbirth?

omg no fishy boy

The guard "Hey man, I don't like this any more than you do"

oh a TOMB, that is rough buddy

He's getting Mummy'd (as in the movie with Brendan Frasier)

Paul remembers it from his ancestral memory

The black eyes and him tipping his head while shes having birth is a little much lmao. its like if feyd was watching someone give birth

That was Mohiam getting killed, btw

man there is a LOT HAPPENING

A rather ignominious end

bye chani

Those babies shot outta there like rockets, My Lord

Midwives waiting with catchers' mitts

never saw children in his entire life?

'i kissed your arch nemesis just earlier'

It was a hatekiss? Maybe? Man she looks great for someone dying of twinbirth No sweat stains, hair looks good

oh no. the script was just too dramatic for them. a disservice to good actors. lol

Neck'd!

he cant change clothes that fast… cowards not wanting him to be in a dress tbh

unless the clothes are flesh which is also a disturbing thought

Such a bummer

like sylveon's ribbons (nodding)

If I ever run Scytale, gender will be as fluid and changing as the desert They're super weird, facedancers In a cool way

I like Scytale

stop saying moodib

are we naming Log's cows again?

Using her voice to fuck with him dang

Leto II get your nipples outta here dude We're kinda busy

shirts went out of style , its not his fault

Oh no my…. hip? My weak spot? There's probably an artery in there

The funky connection between prescient and preborns is fun to play around with

'Nice shot, dad'

yeah a gigantic time loop

Time to bail on these kids SEE YA

Fuck dem kids

"Irulan will take good care of these kids, surely" “Also my extremely troubled sister"

“Alia will do a good job ruling, surely"

Nothing will go wrong

"Notorious philanderer Duncan will be a good partner for Alia" “Why not add my mom into the mix, yeah she's not got a ton of baggage on this planet"

Crushed by a giant penis

eyyyy

Death by Desert Dick?

not the triple d it was violent

The end scene was like a hurricane of everyone pouting and then dying

[thesoccerenthusiast]

Big, Long Video Game Review: I Played Sly Cooper 4: Thieves in Time...

One of my first-ever games I got on the PlayStation when I was a kid was Sly Cooper 2: Band of Thieves.

I can't remember if it was technically my game or my brother's game, but either way, that was one of the first games I had. Along with Jak and Daxter, my love for platforming was born from these games. When I got older — and got a PlayStation Now subscription as a full-fledged adult — I finally got a chance to play the other games: Sly 1 (Thievius Raccoonus), Sly 3 (Honor Among Thieves) and, finally, Sly 4 (Thieves in Time).

I had seen a lot of YouTube videos and reviews over the years of the infamous Sly 4. Of course, it didn't take a genius to figure out that a lot was different: the art style, the graphics, the mission-types and the developer.

The reviews were mainly negative about the game, but I'm the type of person that doesn't want to judge something unless I've played it myself. So I began to forget all of the reviews I read and jumped into the game.

Let's rip the band-aid off... I loved it.

I'm sure that may come as a shock to folks in the Sly Cooper Community, because a wide majority absolutely despise this game. But, I really enjoyed it. Of course, there are some things that are head-scratch worth (hi, Penelope and Murray's writing), but overall, I enjoyed the story, I absolutely adored the ancestors and the graphics were truly something to behold.

So, if you're intrigued, take a look at my favorite things, my not-so-favorite things and my overall thoughts on the game!

Thumbs Up: The Ancestors

In Sly 3, I didn't really care for the new playable characters. Nothing thrilled me about Penelope, up until her boss-battle with LeFwee, the Panda King's movement and firework controls were just annoying, the Guru was alright but the controls were kind of janky and Dimitri's missions were groan-worthy. But, in Sly 4, I really enjoyed playing as the ancestors.

The best ancestor, in my opinion, is Tennessee "Kid" Cooper. His gun mechanic is really good and actually pretty solid from a game-play point of view. The crack shot was a fun tool and I enjoyed the puzzles you had to do with it. My second favorite was Riochi Cooper. His moves were pretty standard and the special ninja jump move wasn't anything to write home about, but his lines were so good and I really enjoyed his stealth-slam technique with the ninja stars.

I'd give the next spot to Sir Galleth Cooper. I wish you got to use the sword more, but his high jump was fun when having to overcome the obstacles in the hub world and on missions. At the end of the game, Galleth's section where he has to get Tennessee's cane back was my favorite to play. Fourth, I'd give it to Bob Cooper. The ability to climb on ice was a lot of fun in the hub world. Although his movement was a bit heavy.

Last but not least, Salim Al-Kupar. His ability to speed-climb the poles wasn't super unique, because if you put the thief costume on Sly, he can climb up the poles with the ability to slow down time. The other costumes didn't give Sly the same abilities as the ancestors, so that knocks some points off Salim. Although his lines were great. "Ugh... again with the climbing?"

Go take a nap, Salim.

The best part about the ancestors is that they all have a personality. They're not stagnant. You have a hot-headed Galleth, a wise ninja with Riochi, a cocky know-it-all with Tennessee, a grumpy ol' Salim and an excited Bob.

How can you not love Riochi's conversation with Murray when they're at the Geisha house? Or Tennessee's first meeting with Sly, when he thinks the latter is 'funnin' on his family name? Or how about Bob's cutscenes where he's playing with Bentley's technology?

Their personalities are great, and I will not stand for any ancestor slander!

Thumbs Up: The Platforming

Gosh, I miss good-old-fashioned platformers. Sly Cooper has always been a game based on platforming. Of course, this was most evident in Sly 1. But, Sly 4 really returns to a big platforming focus. There isn't a lot of mini-games — sans the training segment with Bob Cooper.

It even seems like Bentley's hacking has been toned down a bit. You really increase the hacking missions when you want to 100 percent the game, as the masks are hidden in the 'arcade' machine.

Doing the platforming in Riochi's sushi shop, Madame Geisha's house, Tennessee's mission where he gets his gun back and Galleth's missions overall, were a lot of fun. My favorite hub-world to find masks was Galleth, as the different towers had a lot of platforming variants. It was a lot of fun.

Thumbs Up: The Clue Bottles and Treasures

They're back! I gotta be honest, the fact that this game has clue bottles and treasure immediately shoots it up on my Sly Cooper rankings — those are at the end, stay tuned!

The clue bottles were always my favorite part of Sly 2, and you have to get them in Sly 1 to get much-needed power ups for upcoming missions. Having them back in Sly 4 was a great decision by Sanzaru. And, they were hard to find! I remember really struggling in the Old West for it to be literally on top of a rock. Prehistoric times also provided a bit of a challenge, along with Arabia. Really well done by the creators to put them in tough spots.

And the treasures were awesome. I remember it taking me a while — i.e. merry ol' England — to figure out that you needed the Samurai suit to blast the doors. The fact that you have to go back and use the costumes to get the treasures is great, too. Really a nice touch for those who want to 100 percent the game.

The masks were a good addition too. I really didn't like that there were some in the arcade game, but at least it gave the game a purpose (unlike the random ping-pong table). I also just hated the Bentley missions where he was a shooter, so that might be a 'me' criticism. But, the masks were a good add, and I liked that they were in mission levels, too. Well done, Sanzaru.

Thumbs Up: The Costumes Have a Purpose

In Sly 3, you got costumes to basically walk in front of guards and then talk to them. First and foremost, I'm glad that this game got rid of the thought-bubble 'challenges' where you have to pick the next piece of dialogue. That was exhausting in Sly 3.

Anyway, the costumes have a real purpose in Sly 4. In Japan, you get a Samurai suit that is flame-resistant and can launch fireball attacks back. In the Old West, you get a jailbird costume that is probably lowest on my list: you get to walk on a ball and use the ball to move cages and stuff. In the Prehistoric times, you get a sabertooth tiger suit that allows you cyclone pounce on enemies. In England, you get an archer's outfit, equipped with a bow. Finally, in Arabia, you get a thief costume with a giant sword and the ability to slow down time.

My favorite costume is probably the archer costume, as it's the most practical. Going back to other time periods and finding buckets of arrows is a treat. We'll just ignore that it took me seven tries to get the bottle of Merlin's Magic with the shooting game.

Thumbs Up: Carmelita's Inclusion

OK, obviously the bellydancing mission wasn't the best — whoever thought of that should be stoned, frankly — but other than that, I really enjoyed Carmelita in this game.

Although, quick criticism out of the way: I didn't care for Grey DeLisle voicing Carmelita in this game. I love Grey, and am a huge fan of her performances as Azula in Avatar: The Last Airbender, Kimiko in Xiaolin Showdown and so many more, but her Carmelita was... meh. I would say it's better than Sly 2's performance, but not better than Sly 1 or Sly 3.

But anyway, I loved her inclusion. The mission where she had to take down the three-headed mechanical dragon was great, and the writing between her and Galleth was so smooth. I loved how Sly got jealous. I've seen a lot of people say that Sly calling Galleth "sir goof" was out of character, since he's always respected the ancestors. While that respect is true, I don't think it's out of character. He's the jealous type, our little thieving raccoon. Carmelita was pushing his buttons and gamers already saw that Sly had an annoyance with the hot-headed Galleth.

The mission where she teamed up with Tennessee to rescue the Cooper Gang out of prison was really good too. I liked the back-and-forth between Carmelita for the shooting and Tennessee for the platforming. *Chef's kiss*

The ending of the game had a scene where you can see how much Sly and Carmelita care for each other, and then when Carmelita does her own search for Sly? Man, it's so good. Carmelita's character was really solid in Sly 4, in my opinion.

Thumbs Up: The Animated Cut Scenes & Chapter Scenes

Were the comic-book style animations in Sly 1, 2 and 3 amazing? Absolutely. Was the animated scenes in Sly 4 also really good? Yes.

I loved the art style. I can understand if it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I really enjoyed it. The cut-scenes in the game were also really smooth. I thought some were unnecessary — take Riochi's sushi shop, where there's a cutscene when he opens the last door, you take a few steps and turn on the lights and then it's another cutscene — but for the most part, I thought they were done well.

And while the cutscenes in Murray and Riochi's mission inside Madame Geisha's house were funny — Riochi had the best facial expressions, as shown above — they interrupted the game play in the sense of buttons had to be hit as soon as a cutscene ended. Other than that, I loved it.

Thumbs Up: The Hub Worlds & Design In General

Gosh, this game is gorgeous. I mean, its graphics are really something. My favorite level is definitely Feudal Japan, with Medieval England being a close second. The way the moonlight shines enough for you to see details around the level, but also keep the stealthy-nighttime setting is perfection.

Even the daytime levels look great. The clean, sleekness of the Prehistoric times level is a nice touch and the Old West looks and feels like... the old West! Arabia is beautiful, with all the vibrant colors. Also, we can't forget the Paris rooftops. I love the continuity of keeping Paris in these games.

I'll also add the music in this section. Peter McConnell is back doing the soundtrack and I think he had a lot of fun with using different time periods and cultures for the music in these levels. The Medieval England soundtrack is definitely my favorite of the bunch.

*********

Alright, now it's time for the things I didn't particularly care for.

Thumbs Down: The F'ing Loading Screens

The waits with the loading screen were loooooooong. Coming from a Sly 1, 2 and 3 that didn't have this issue, this was a rough transition. Platformers of this time didn't have loading screens like this. Granted, I've never played Ratchet and Clank (that's next), but the Jak series never had these issues. It was a total shame to see Sly have such long, drawn out loading screens.

Thumbs Down: Murray's Character "Arc"

Sly and Bentley were characters that underwent some massive development in the first three games. But, out of everyone in the Cooper Gang, Murray had the best story in the trilogy.

He went from being the 'fat guy' of the bunch who only wanted snacks in Sly 1, and was generally a nuisance in that game, to being "The Murray" in Sly 2. Opening up Sly 2 with this newfound confidence was a big positive to Murray's character. You got to see that confidence throughout the entire game — even after being an experiment to the Contessa. At the end of the game, Murray helps Bentley. And moving to the third game, you see him leaving the gang and grappling with guilt over his friend's injury.

His journey in the third game is really special. He vows to live a peaceful life with meditation and training by his guru. However, Bentley gets hurt by Don Octavio, and 'The Murray' returns. "I'm going to floss my teeth with your spine." Murray is back and better than ever. In the third game, he really grows.

And in the fourth game? He's back to the 'fat guy' who loves snacks and can punch things. The Sanzaru writers give him this weird character arc, if you want to call it that. He can't climb up an ice wall... so they bring the ice-climbing Bob Cooper in. All of a sudden, Murray feels useless and is depressed — Bentley even tells him to come back for a snack at the safe house. At the end of the level, Murray is the hero, beating The Grizz all on his own. Everyone gives him praise. Murray says he's been a screw up. Bentley goes on this monologue about how everyone makes mistakes. Yawn.

Murray has the least exciting missions, in my opinion, in Sly 4, and that's really a shame considering how useful he was in Sly 3. Who can forget the mission where he gets his beloved van back? The Geisha mission was funny, don't get me wrong, but Murray seemed like the character that Sanzaru didn't know what to do with. That's a shame.

Thumbs Down: The Boss Fights

Talk about yawn. The boss fights weren't anything to write home about. In terms of difficulty, The Grizz was probably the toughest — and I only say that because of the ice blocks and the limited time you have to hit Grizz with them.

El Jefe was a fine boss fight but, again, not very tough. Toothpick was annoying, and everyone rolled their eyes by the second, third and fourth time he yelled, "Who turned on that blasted whistle!?" Grizz was already mentioned, but the whole 'I want to be a figure skater' was ... weird. It came out of nowhere. Penelope — uh, ahem, the Black Knight — was a snoozefest. Miss Decibel provided some challenge with the thief costume, but was otherwise another easy boss.

And don't even get me started on the joke that was the Le Paradox 'boss' fight at the end. Talk about easy.

The Bosses backstories were fun enough — particularly how Decibel was making fake lineage papers for Le Paradox, or how an Eastern European thug like Toothpick loved the old West — but the fights? Pretty darn lame.

Here's how I rank the boss fights in terms of difficulty: (1) The Grizz, (2) El Jefe, (3) Miss Decibel, (4) Penelope/The Black Knight, (5) Toothpick and (6) Le Paradox.

Thumbs Down: Penelope... To an Extent.

Penelope turning against the Cooper Gang isn't that shocking — and it wasn't a bad move by Sanzaru in Sly 4.

OK, let me give you a second to catch your breath.

Listen, Penelope is prone to doing this. She is a liar when you first meet her, after all. She claims to want to bring down the Black Barron and help the Cooper Gang, and then she's revealed to be the Black Barron. She ditches that life and joins the Cooper Gang. Eventually, she falls for Bentley and the rest is history.

Then, in Sly 4, you find out that Bentley and Penelope were making a time machine and suddenly, she disappeared. I don't mind this twist. It's a nice twist in the game and it sets you up for another betrayal by the RC specialist.

Before we get to the actual revelation of the betrayal, the game kind of spoils it that Penelope is the Black Knight. First off, "Black Barron" and "Black Knight" are pretty similar monikers. But also, during one of the load screens, it's shoved in your face that "Penelope once disguised herself as a the Black Barron." I don't know about anyone else, but i felt like I got this loading screen a bunch during the Medieval England level... before the revelation.

Now, let's talk about the revelation. The scene plays out that she hops out of the Black Knight machinery to get some air. Bentley, doing some maneuvering in the ceiling rafters, sees her. She goes into this ramble:

"If only Bentley hadn't been brainwashed by Cooper's 'honorable thief' nonsense, we could have made billions in weapon design! The two most brilliant minds on the planet working together? We could have owned the world! No matter. Once Cooper's out of the way, he'll see things my way. Poor Bentley, he's kinda cute when he's being dumb."

I don't hate this! This is actually really good! I've seen on Reddit that it's about a year between Sly 3 and Sly 4. Penelope probably had an idea in her head that she and Bentley were going to make a time machine and really cash in. That didn't happen. She got frustrated and she left. Not the way I would have done it, but it's not out of character for Penelope. She literally disguised herself as a grown man to get her way and be in a flying tournament.

But here's where the issue lies. When she and Bentley are speaking during the boss fight, there is a major contradiction. Take a look below.

The big issue: Bentley calls out Penelope for leaving him and joining Le Paradox for the money. And Penelope tells him, "No, you're not listening. He's just a means to an end." Uh... yeah, that's literally exactly what Bentley said. Le Paradox being a means to an end means that he is a cash cow to Penelope.

And Bentley hit it on the spot. Le Paradox was going to dump Penelope, whether she succeeded against the Cooper Gang or not. At the end, when Le Paradox describes the new machine he uses for time travel, he says, "Look at this, my marvelous contraption: The Time Tunnel. Something else I had your little friend Penelope develop before her unfortunate failure."

Cyrille Le Paradox only sees Penelope as someone who makes stuff for him. That's it. Who knows if he was even going to pay her.

Needless to say, the one line of dialogue about being a "means to an end" could have been taken out, and I wouldn't have hated this decision by Sanzaru. But, with the addition, it creates more headache than necessary.

Thumbs Down: The Never-Ending Talking

Some of the things that the characters say is pretty funny. I think there's a line where Tennessee says that getting in the thick of a fight is more fun than square-dancing with a donkey. But the talking is never-ending, even in the run of play. This is a game about stealth. It's not about listening to the characters talk every 10 seconds.

Also, let's add this note in this section: Sly is way too cocky in this game. And his lack of seriousness can get annoying. When he comes face-to-face with Le Paradox for the first time in Arabia, his first words to him are, "And may you always stay downwind."

There's been so much that has happened up until this point... and the first thing that Sly can do is make fun of Le Paradox for being a skunk?

Even in the boss fights, the talking is just too much. "I don't know what's scarier: El Jefe, or his bad jokes." "Hey Penelope! I think I saw some rust spots!" And let's not forget the 80 million times you hear this phrase: "Here comes the Grizz!"

Final Thoughts on Sly Cooper: Thieves in Time

This game is not perfect, but I think a lot of things were done right with Sly Cooper: Thieves in Time.

I really love the look of the game, from the graphics to the cutscenes to the designs of the ancestors and the locations. The story is pretty compelling for the most part and I love the idea of Cyrille Le Paradox wanting to erase the Cooper's from history because Sly's dad cucked his dad — thief-wise, that is.

The writing could use some work. Undoubtedly. But I'm playing Sly 4 for the game play and a compelling story, and I got that. I really enjoyed this game, despite the rough ending and lame Le Paradox boss fight.

I don't blame Sanzaru for the cliffhanger as Sony really screwed over franchises during the 2010s. Evidently the creators were expected to at least have a DLC to solve the 'Sly in Egypt' issue, but the promise was broken.

I enjoyed the game. I would definitely enjoy replaying it. I hope we do, one day, get a Sly 5 to figure out how to get our thieving Raccoon out of Egypt.

I would give Sly Cooper (4): Thieves in Time... a score of 4.5/5.

[timeslugarts]

Four Flushing

Part 4 of my Vera x Vox story.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

A/N - I really hope you guys are enjoying this, I didn't think I'd write so much for them. I also hope that my writing is at least enjoyable.

CW: Smut and Valentino lmao

After replacing his screen and dealing with an angry Val all week Vox decided that maybe the best thing to do was to take the moth Overlord out for a night of fun and debauchery, and what would be better than a gala thrown in honor of Hell's royalty. Personally, Vox abhorred these sorts of events, but the chance to schmooze and make connections was always a bonus. Valentino loved to dress up and cause drama, so this seemed like an excellent idea. He had very simple pleasures.

They made their way to the party in a sleek Voxtech limousine. Vox slipped out of the car before a shade could open his door. Valentino on the other hand sat there until the shades opened his door, there was nothing he enjoyed more than being waited on hand and foot.

Vox was already halfway through the entrance, phone in hand, before Valentino caught up to him. Draping his arms around Vox and pinching his ass. Vox could only sigh and check his texts and emails.

Several new messages, but not the one he was hoping for.

"Come onnnn papito, I want to dance!" Val shook him lightly, tongue licking the side of Vox's screen.

He had to turn the charisma up, he was literally here so he could get Val off his back, a couple hours of fake smiles and back home for a hate fuck shouldn't be too bad.

So Vox slipped his hand into Val's, "of course," he crooned, "let's dance." They made their way to the dance floor where Vox spun and twirled Val around, every now and then stopping to drink champagne and talk to the other patrons. It wasn't until something caught his eye that he stopped.

A light blue flame moving its way to the tower of drinks.

-----------

Vera looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting the shimmer on her cheeks to make sure it caught the light from her flames just right. Jericho, her roomie down stairs, had received tickets to tonight's Gala courtesy of his current royal boy toy. There were perks to being a pool boy to one of Hell's own Goetia and that included tickets to events they'd never attend otherwise. So of course Jericho was taking Vera as his plus one, the intention was to nic as many jewels and wallets as they could, drink till the night turned to dawn, and eat their fill of shrimp. The shrimp being the most important part.

Vera's mind idly wandered to her phone, he had never responded to her text and that was more than enough for her to call things over.

Maybe he'd be there, or maybe not.

"Oh baby!" Jericho's voice rang from the door of her flat. He sauntered over to her and grabbed her hips pulling her flush against him. "I could eat you up right here. Let's forget the party and fuck right now."

She turned around in his arms placing her own around his neck, and bumped her forehead into his, "but shrimp."

He sighed, "but shrimp." Grinning, he grabbed her hand and spun her around, "you look stunning though."

"I know," she shrugged, "You're not half bad yourself." She gave him a once over.

"Hey, I'm hot and you know it." He slicked his hair back admiring himself in the full length mirror, the scar across his nose and his milky eye more prominent than ever. Jericho always tried to show off his wounds when hanging around the rich folk, knowing damn well they all loved a bad boy.

Jericho and Vera walked into the party arm in arm. It was definitely a party for Hell's wealthiest, large buffet tables lined the exterior, a Champagne tower at the center of the room, and a catering service of shades taking people's plates, glasses, coats and whatever else.

Vera quickly scanned the party, making note of anything she could see herself wanting, large plates of shrimp, and the crystal champagne flutes looked nice too. She sauntered over picking up the champagne and giving it a sip and grimacing. It didn't matter if you were living or dead, alcohol was still disgusting. Crystal was nice though, she dumped the rest of the champagne in a nearby plant and stuffed the glass into her bag, along with a few of the larger shrimps she saw. She was in the middle of munching on one when a voice got her attention.

"You know if they catch you they'll kill you." Vera whirled at the staticky voice.

Vox.

She wasn't sure she'd see him here, and she was extra sure he wouldn't have approached her. Here he was though, dressed smoothly in a pinstripe double breasted suit. That darling debonair smile on his face.

"And what about if you catch me?" Vera aired up at him, eyebrow cocked.

"Catch you! Ha! I'm here to help you!" His grin grew even brighter. He turned her around, hands lightly gripping her shoulders, he pointed her at a group of overlords she didn't recognize. "You see that windbag over there," he pointed a claw at a particularly old looking lady wearing what looked like a raccoon skin dress. "She's fuckin' loaded with jewels at any given time, plus the bitch is as blind as a bat."

"Oh? Do you think she needs a new friend?" She turned back, a look of innocence on her face.

"Absolutely. Now go get 'em tiger." He slapped her ass as she began strutting toward her new target.

Vera turned back, "always such a charmer." She gave him a wink.

Vox chuckled to himself as he grabbed two flutes and made his way back to Val. It was a risky move, but he couldn't just not say anything.

"Oh look at you talking to the Spitfire Demon." Val hummed when Vox handed him his drink.

"Who?" Vox played the uninterested fool.

"Hush, I don't blame you boo, she's smoking." He leaned heavily on Vox downing his drink. "Girl used to run with a crew and I would've given my best assistant to have them in a gang bang." He emphasized this by clenching his free fist tightly. "They would've made me millions!"

"Used to? What happened to the others?" Vox did his best to keep the curiosity out of his voice, it was all business all the time.

"They all died or some shit, exorcists got 'em. A waste of good flesh if you ask me." Val walked around leaning into Vox, "you planning on asking her to bed with us tonight? A third could be fun."

"No no, tonight is all about you," he grabbed Val's hand and kissed his knuckles. He wouldn't admit it, but the idea of sharing Vera brought the taste of bile to his mouth, he didn't like the thought of Valentino running his hands over her body.

"Damn right it is, now come on chica I want to dance more!" The moth shimmied his way back on to the dance floor beckoning for Vox to join.

Vox leaned back against the counter, "give me a few, I don't have nearly as much stamina as you, I'm gonna see who I can blackmail."

Val pouted, but Vox only waved him away. "Go, have fun, make out with a hottie, I'll be back!"

When he was sure Val was thoroughly distracted, grinding up against some poor strangers, he began searching the crowd. He spotted his little flame walking down a long dark hallway heading away from the crowd.

It made him nervous, did someone find out she'd been stealing? Was she going to be with someone else? He was already well aware of the other man that Vera had arrived with, but he'd seem too interested in shoving his nose up a Goetia's ass then spending time with her. So he dropped it.

But what was she doing now? He had to know, he had to follow her. Make sure she is ok.

Sparing one last glance at Valentino, who seemed very interested in checking the tongue piercing of another Overlord with his own tongue, he swiftly made his way through the crowd towards the hall that he'd last seen Vera heading down.

He couldn't believe how stunning she'd look, long velvet gloves and a short black dress that hugged her body in all the best ways. Tulle flowing from her waist to her legs giving her just the tiniest bit of secrecy. She was gorgeous and he was sure that someone would snatch her up by the end of the night. He couldn't let that happen, but how to get around Val was the question.

She had managed to disappear when he'd finally reached the hall, it made his heart thud with anxiety, he walked further into the darkness, about to call her name when a hand shot out from an open door and snatched him inside.

"What the FU-"

"Shhhh or do you want to get caught!" A voice whispered, he noticed the blue flames burning dimly, and the piercing blue eyes staring at his own.

They were pressed together in a small storage closet, him and his little flame. Vera. His breathing grew ragged almost immediately. Her proximity to him was almost dizzying.

"You know, I thought you were done with me, but that little show earlier-" She ran her hand up his chest and started fiddling with a button, "made me think otherwise."

He let out a huff, "done with you, doll?" He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her closer. "Never. I just had to get Valentino off my back, he'd been bitching and moaning ever since-"

She leaned in and silenced him with a kiss.

"We don't have much time Vox, our dates could be looking for us."

He got the idea and kissed her back full force. Pulling her even closer than you'd think possible. Her arms snaked their way around his shoulders pulling him in, leg reaching up to wrap around his waist. When she sighed into his mouth he took the opportunity to sneak his tongue inside. She tasted like candy and bubblegum, he laughed internally at the notion.

They started to grasp at each other, squeezing what their hands could find. When Vox bumped into a shelf of buckets and bottles that rattled about, they both stopped in their tracks, waiting, listening.

When nothing happened Vox jumped on the opportunity.

He quickly moved her skirts to the side, going to press his fingers into her delicious heat, but when he got there.

"You're not wearing any underwear?"

She grinned licking his neck, "panty lines are a bitch."

Vox groaned, he could feel his pants getting tighter by the second, "You're so fucking hot."

He pressed into her, delighted by how wet she already was. She moaned softly, and he started to pump faster spurred on by the quiet noises she was making. When his thumb found its way to her clit she let out a much louder sound. Vox grinned.

"Shh, we're going to get caught if you're not quiet." She bit his neck to stop any noises she would make as he continued his ministrations. The feel of her teeth piercing his skin was almost too much. He made a note that the next time they were together they could be as loud as they wanted.

She was close, she knew it, he knew it.

"Faster Vox." Vera panted out, her knees were trembling and he grabbed her throat to help keep her upright, but also to add a little more pressure to the buzz she was already feeling.

She was starting to see spots when it hit her. A strangled sob tore through her, muffled by the hand around her neck. Her breathing was heavy as she tried to regain her composure, leaning into Vox and panting.

Vox held on to her tightly, he pressed his screen into the top of her head breathing her in. She smelled of smoke and lavender, her skin was soft and slick with sweat. He wanted to leave with her, to take her home and have his way with her. He wanted to have breakfast the next morning and maybe show her his sharks. He was sure she'd like them. They could go out to that little restaurant Velvette was telling him about the other day for lunch…

"God I've missed you." Vox mumbled into her hair.

Vera, who had recovered and was undoing the buckle on his belt, froze. She looked up at him, expression unsure, but Vox was too absorbed in the moment to even notice. Her breath came out a little more uneven than she would've liked as she let go of the clasp on his belt. Sliding her hand up to rest on his chest, he leaned into her touch, vibrating at the soft motion, almost purring.

"Vox I think we need to leave before anyone notices we're missing." Vera whispered, looking away from his screen. He squeezed her a little tighter, a little closer.

Finally he released her, groaning. "You're probably right, I can only imagine the amount of trouble Valentino is causing right now." He glared off into the darkness, with no view of Val, it was the best he could do.

Without another word Vera popped the door open, slowly and quietly, checking the long hallway to make sure the coast was clear. After confirming it empty, they both slipped out and headed in opposite directions.

They were in the clear, no way they could get caught now especially since Vox controlled every video camera in the pentagram. Vera's heart was still racing though, even as she made her way back to Jericho. As he grabbed her coat so they could make their leave. As she saw Vox standing there with Valentino wrapped around his arm, his eyes never once leaving her own. When she climbed into her bed and lifted the covers over her. When she thought about the way he held her in that tiny broom closet. When her phone lit up with a notification.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck."

She needed to end this.

[tookishcombeferre]

Full disclosure I think this has sat half-edited in my drafts for like a week at least.

But, I'm so happy I took my time on it. I think the beats of the chapter hit nicely. The foreshadowing for 4 chapters down the road is doing what I want it to do. So, I just wanted to make sure things were doing what I needed them to before I posted it.

For tumblr folks, I can write a bit of an extended author note. Which is always fun.

About the plot chasm: In the first iteration of this story, there was going to be an entire espionage sublot that involved Hexley Hall. However, in order to spark that, something really devastatingly sad had to happen. I didn't like that. So, after about five minutes of thinking about it, I scrapped it. However, I REALLY wanted my espionage subplot back because going full Mission Impossible into Hexley Hall just seemed like too fun of an opportunity to pass up. Also, the magic involved in that subplot still existed in the plot I currently was writing, and I suddenly realized I had no plans to resolve that. Therefore, I decided, I'm filling my plot chasm with an appearance from Greylock near the final climax of the story. Not revealing anymore details about that. But, he's well more involved now that I'd initially planned on him being because I had a plot chasm the size of the Grand Canyon that only Greylock could solve. As for the potential one-shot: I've been doing a lot of of work on lore for the Tri-Kindgoms and the Minor Kingdoms for this story and for its prequel. Specifically, I've been developing lore for Corinthia (which is where I hc that Winifred came from based on her design.) I was thinking about writing something set during the ep. Mystic Meadows set from her perspective that has something to do with the lore of that Kingdom and her powers of minor divination. Not sure if I'll do it, but if folks are interested, I'd consider writing it. Some of the stuff I'm thinking about putting in the one-shot are going to come up in the fic, some of it might not? I dunno. (I gave Cedric and Cordelia middle names in my head, and it's my personal opinion first name was Goodwyn's choice second name was Winifred's. So, this would touch on that.) Other notes: I really don't have much other than what I put in the author's note. I often write in "Acts" like a play. I'd say, as it stands, this story has approximately 3. Act 1 was for exposition. Act 2 is about relationships. Act 3 will be about magic and then will also resolve the whole story. This chapter is kind of the transition point that sets up that transition between exposition and the 2 different longer acts that each have their own climaxes and resolutions. That's not to say you won't get details about magic AT ALL in this next part, you will. But, the primary focus in this next section is on relationships, and all the lore tidbits you get are at the service of fostering connections between characters. As for things that are coming in terms of stuff getting "dark," this will probably come up again in a later author's note, but there's a scene I'm writing that might just hit me different because the feelings in the scene keep hitting a nerve based on something that happened to me a little over a year ago. So, like, do *I* think it's dark because it hits in a personal place, or is it actually dark? I always err on the side of caution in those matters. So, like I said, just pay attention to the TW's and you should be fine. So, yeah, that's what I've got. Cheers, Pip 💚💜

[foolsocracy]

Do you have any fic recommendations? I've just read the open road and other anesthetics, which was good, but I'd love more Noir content.

oh boy do i

Here are a few fics i have on hand! If I have time or stumble across more, I can make another post/add to this one. Heads up, the open road and other anesthetics is pretty light hearted and these probably will not be. so say vigilant LMAO (its noir, ya know?). If you wanted more spiderverse centric fics rather than noirverse let me know i'll see what i can pull together.

Burning Matches by HopelesslyLost (complete) 344,746 words

Cant have a Spider Noir fic rec list without the gospel itself. Definitely on the whumpier side, lots of "this guy can never catch a break huh" but very good! Takes the noirverse and makes it so so cool. I pull a lot from this fic. Great stuff Its a post ITSV setting and features a great deal of everyone but Pete is def the focus. The spider gang is trying to get back together, but when they get to Noir's world things don't go as planned. Heavy on the found family. Heavy on the angst. Love Noir's relationship w/ Miles' parents

The Wind Follows by HopelesslyLost (incomplete) 99,501 words

Goes along with Burning Matches as a side story of Pete infiltrating the KKK to get them tf out of NYC. Very heavy handed on the angst. Even whumpier than Burning Matches. Where it stands right now, it ends on an incredibly low note, very much like Eyes Without a Face. Peter's kicked while he's down & physically incapable of getting a win. But Peter does kick Nazi ass which is always nice to see If you like the noirverse HopelesslyLost writes this is very interesting! Gotta be my fave part of this fic. I love seeing Noir Cage, Daredevil, and Tony Stark. Plus the who "cursed" situation.. mwah

i'll go back to december by snapplebee (incomplete, recently updated) 14,503 words

This fic reminds me of the open road and other anesthetics, but if it was a little angstier w/ Noir. The spider gang is hanging out for the holidays, Noir doesn't know how to fuckn relax.

Catch a Tiger by the Tail by Gruoch (completed) 40,049 words

Just finished this one today! Was very fun. It's an MJ spider-man (her POV) and a Black Cat Peter. Gwen Stacy, a dancer at Felica Hardy's place, is found dead. Her fiancé, Peter Parker, is found dead soon after. Its very much a mystery! TBH i think i was out of it reading this because a twist got me that I'm almost positive was obvious from the beginning LMAO. Slight Peter/Johnny Storm as well

Between Midnight and Dawn by Gruoch (incomplete) 14,158 words

Prequel to the previous rec. I love this one and I'd do anything to see it update again. Shows you how Peter got to be the Black Cat, he has cool run ins with the Dare Devil and Stark, all the fun noir folks. Heads up on the dysfunctional found family tag, thats for sure Peter and Felicia. But they're strange in canon anyway so its not really much of a surprise.

He Sleeps in a Town of Darkness by luckystarsandgarters (complete) 21,278 words

This is the fic i mentioned a post or 2 ago about Johnny Storm being a drag performer. I really love the atmosphere of this fic, I thought it was pulling from an offical comic thats how well it got me. This one's Pete/Johnny Storm! They're cute. Lots of focus on the gay subculture of the 30s I think.

Trust by Ackerhardt (complete) 6,989

Peter & Jean De Wolfe vs the world. Quick read in the classic noirverse. Jean is fun we should talk about him more tbh. Peter/Jean actually! Just colleged aged guys taking on crime in the city.

[optiwashere]

WIP Wednesday

Holy shit, it's actually on a Wednesday this time?

I really wanted to do one of these this week since I've gone a bit rabid on a few WIPs.

I'll post a little bit about each of those WIPs later, some snippets and a blurb about why I'm so excited. But first! Folks to tag! Since I'm so excited for these, I'm gonna tag a lot this time.

If you have anything you want to share WIP writing-wise, please do... @quitefair @bottombatch @siyurikspakvariisis @causticcontemplation @jasminethetransvampire @underworldobsessed @assarivanguard @amorficzna @funwithnix @askweisswolf @linka-from-captain-planet @tief4tief

If you don't want to do this, or have nothing you want to share, feel free to ignore. If anyone else wants to do this, please feel free to consider yourself tagged. Now, onto my obsessions.

WIP 1: New chapter of Nightsongs

After spending some chapters in a kind of angst zone after the relatively light (relatively) first 4-5 chapters, this next chapter is going to be a kind of upswing. There's lots left to do with the AU, so I'm expecting to chug along and write more and more as time permits.

This AU is a lot for me to handle, especially after having so many chapters ready to post and then... falling way behind on writing the chapters afterwards. But it's fanfiction, and we're having fun here. So, who cares? The game's fandom heyday is already over, so at this point I'm just writing whatever feels best to me.

This chapter is mostly done, I think. I'm giving it a few days/a week to sit before I go back to edit it with fresher eyes. Also, we return to Ash's POV!

Lae’zel walked into Ash’s back office without a word on the seventh day and Ash nodded her way without looking up. Papers sat in strewn piles all over the desk, a handful of old incident reports and assessments that still needed working for Wulbren’s accountants. The absolute worst part of the job remained for the year – paperwork – and Ash intended to get them caught up in the hours that remained of her day. It was a useful, meaningful task. It gave her something else to think about. Anything other than green eyes. “We should talk,” Lae’zel said, sitting down without being offered one of the folding chairs in front of the desk. “Aren’t we doing that?” Ash scanned the paper in front of her and quickly jotted down her signature. [...] “You begin working on a van,” Lae’zel said matter-of-factly, counting off on her fingers as she spoke. “You talk to a pretty girl. You suddenly work more often on that van. Then, you disappear inside yourself and act bitter all day because suddenly the girl no longer shows up. There is more to it than you say.” “I think this might be the first time you’ve spoken more than five words to me, you know that?” Ash chuckled. “Am I that obvious?”

WIP 2: New chapter of Blades in the Night

The need to write more plot for this has been burrowing in my skull for a long time. I initially stopped myself from writing too much of it because I wanted to do Nightsongs first in its entirety before getting to this, but I think I'm just too impatient for that.

I also love the fact that this fic turned from a simple PWP one-shot into this much more expansive, plotty story that's now pretty important for what I want to do with my babies post-canon. Something about that makes me smile.

Plus, you know how I've been lamenting my inability to write happy endings for certain characters?

Either way, this isn't really complete, but the hardest part is complete and now I just have to start connecting the dots and filling in the blanks. I'd say it's about a third done?

The room filled with the same aura of a distant gaze leveled their way that Shadowheart had felt back in the cloister. Asheera had made an oath to protect Shadowheart then, and the flooding of a dense, real presence had nearly swallowed her whole in the cloister's barracks. A weight of importance sunk down on her shoulders there in Hobb's Hovel as well. A smell like molten metal cooling lilted in the air with a lingering, acrid tang. It tasted of blood in Shadowheart's mouth, as if the forging was tainted with some other foul presence in the mixture. [...] Little could have compared better to that feeling of a weight lifted from her shoulders. Worry disappeared and gave way to earnest joy in Shadowheart, and she thrived on it. She hadn't felt such keen happiness since she'd been so readily accepted into Asheera's family by her parents.

WIP 3: Gauntlet of Shar fic

Wow, I know! I've been talking about writing this fic for so long that it's almost become a sort of mythical never-to-be-slain beast for me. I'm not normally someone that talks about my ideas too often, I just write them before they can flee me.

I tend to also get in my own head about what I "should" be writing in the first place. Frankly, I'm getting kinda tired of writing so many ships, though fear not - I'll still have ideas that can only work with ships that aren't Shadowheart/Asheera. It's just that, for a while, I want to focus back on my loves.

This fic is one of those that I've wanted to finish for months. I know that at this point in the fandom's life cycle, I'm pretty much writing just for the dedicated, lovely folks that still read my stuff and I'm extremely happy to have y'all around! Maybe this will make Light Casts a Shadow ring a little more true for some, maybe it will be just another fic that I post, who knows.

Also, one thing I'm planning on experimenting with for this fic is alternate endings for Fun. This is a fic where the ending hinges on choices that Shadowheart makes in the game, so it's only fitting that I explore what would happen if she made those other choices.

But anywho, enough blabbing. Excerpt time!

Those touches and more, Asheera cherished. She watched in silence as Shadowheart turned her devotions to each of those tasks. Perhaps it was the nature of clerics to give themselves entirely to seemingly mundane tasks much the same Asheera felt compelled to consider her oaths in nearly every conversation, battle, or even moments like Shadowheart carefully buckling a cuisse to her leg with straps of leather at the backs of Asheera's knees. Fingertips trailed against her clothed skin, and Shadowheart stood up once more. "There," she said, "all's taken care of, then. Tell me, how's my handiwork? Be honest. I can handle the criticism." Asheera brought her balled fist to her chest in an arm curl. She flexed the elbow out and tested her shoulders, knees, ankles, and hips for motion. None of the plates caught on one another, and none of the straps across her hands, arms, knees, or chest restricted her. "Perfect," Asheera said at last. "Marvelous work." Shadowheart offered a quick smile. "I'll take a Gondian's compliment on such things any day." "Can't say I would've done a better job." "Ah, there's the honesty I was waiting for. Truly, where would you be without me?"

[chaos0pikachu]

I saw that you are now all caught up with Dead Friend Forever, as an horror fan do you have any hints or ideas for how the show is going to end? I am just loving all the theories in this fandom, and wanted to know if you have some.

LOL I'm actually writing up a big post about the film influences of DFF, like what horror genres and works I think the show is pulling from.

I'll be honest, I'm not much of a theorist when it comes to guessing the trajectory of a story. Or maybe I'm just not good at solving mysteries lol I'd def be the Shaggy of a group rather than the Velma.

Right now some of my current theories, if I were to call them such, are:

The show ending will be similar to Girl From Nowhere's s1 finale where everything was actually a drug induced violent mass hallucination and the story will end more open ended and unsettling than definitive. Which I would be totally down for, but I get the feeling most in fandom wouldn't be.

I think, just based on what I've observed, folks in fandom want a more clear-cut slasher based ending with a "final girl" and such which, DFF isn't much of a slasher to me (I'll argue my point regarding this in my film post about the series I promise) it has the bare bones of a slasher but not the soul of one.

So my other theory is that's the ending DFF will have, a more by-the-numbers slasher based ending with maybe one final plot twist - like idk White being involved or something - and one char surviving - personally if this is the ending the show has I think it'll be Jin who is the "final girl" as it would match the short film footage we saw of their movie.

Which I would be fine with, but less impressed by overall. Not because I don't like Jin, I actually do as a char - ppl are really harsh on the char tho damn also the TaCopper vs TaBarcode ship wars are PEAK weirdo tinhat behavior to me anyways - but it is the most predictable ending. Even if it's not Jin and it's some other char a "final girl" style ending feels, hm, fine. Not bad but just fine.

I think another possible ending is that no one survives, as per Non's rewritten script. Which would be a bummer but could be interesting depending on how it's done.

My totally 100% out of the hot pocket theory is this has all been an elaborate movie set up ala Urban Legends 2 which I think would make everyone mad but the chaos of it all would crack me the fuck up and I'd love it for that alone.

So yeah, nothing to in detail just some general possible thoughts on the ending. Like could Non be alive? Yeah I could buy that, I could buy he's dead-dead too. I think whether he is or isn't will be a final act plot twist though, and not "the ending". So even if he is alive, whether he survives after would still be up in the air.

Most slashers end with the slasher dying at the hands of the final girl as a cathartic way to "murder the monster for survival". Again I don't think DFF is much of a slasher, but if fandom thinks it is then we gotta acknowledge that as a major part of the sub genre as well.

[bigplaceexchange]

Sign Up Guide 2024

Hey all. With signups less than a week away, I wanted to post an updated sign up guide. Things work a bit differently this year, but I hope this guide will walk you through it. As always, if you have any questions about sign-ups - or any part of the exchange process - please reach out to me.

There are two parts to a sign up: Requests and Offers. Requests are what pairings you would like to receive a gift FOR, while Offers are what pairings you are willing to CREATE for another person. I'll go over each of these individually.

REQUESTS

When you go to sign up, you'll see a screen that looks something like this:

Under the boxes labeled Request 1, Request 2, and Request 3, you'll fill out the minimum of 3 items you need to request. You can add up to 10 by scrolling down passed Request 3 and hitting this button:

Either way, in EACH Request box, you MUST fill out the first two portions, Fandom and Relationships.

For Fandom, CLICK ALL THREE BOXES. I have it set up that you have to, so it shouldn't be hard to miss, but this will make sure you see all the nominated pairings.

Once you click the Fandom boxes, click on Relationships and a drop down list of all the relationships nominated will populate.

Just like space magic.

The box below it, "Letter", is where you can link your exchange letter explaining what you are and aren't into. Remember when I talked about Letters?

You don't HAVE to put anything here, but letters are a LOT of help and remember: I CAN'T ENFORCE DNWs IF YOU DON'T TELL US ABOUT THEM.

Onto the Description box. You don't HAVE to put anything here, but some folks choose to link their letters here, or if they don't have a letter, go over their DNWs and likes here. This is also a good place to list pairings specific things you'd like to see. For example, if I requested Kaidan/Male Shep, I might say I'd really like to see a story or art about them adopting a dog. (for real though, if someone wants to write that for me I'd love it ;) )

And that's it for Requests! Below the requests boxes you'll see the Offer boxes, which I'll go over next.

OFFERS

Offers look similar to requests, but work a bit different. This is where you list which pairings you're willing to CREATE for. It looks like so:

Again, you have to offer a minimum of 3, but up to 10. As with requests, the Fandom and Relationship portions are required, but the rest is optional (but important).

The Fandom and Relationship part of Offers works the same way as requests. It's the description box that's different.

Now, OFFERS ARE ANON. No one but the mod team can see your offers. That said, the Description box of Offers is where you'll leave the following info:

Things you're willing to create;

Things you AREN'T willing to create; (this is important! If, for example, you don't want to create explicit content, WE NEED TO KNOW so we can match you properly) and;

Anyone you don't want to be paired with for the exchange. REMEMBER THIS PART IS ANON. No one else will see what you put here. Your reasons are your own and you don't have to explain why you don't want to be paired with a certain person.

When you're done filling out your offers, hit submit.

Whooooo! You're signed up.

You can edit your sign-up up until the day they close, after which it's locked. So if you think of another pairings, idea, ect, you can always go back and edit it. You can find your signups on the left side of your AO3 dashboard under "Sign-Ups".

I'm looking forward to this year's exchange and all the tasty Kaidan gifts! If you have any questions, reach out to me!

[according2thelore]

2023 top five!

@preseriesdean thought it would be fun for artists/authors/creators to post their favorite five creations this year, and i agree! it can be anything: your favorite posts, fics, art, edits, fanvids, anything!

i saw some folks turning this into a tag game, so here are some tags! @deanwinchesterpregnant @dyed-red @mercette @crucifysam @weirdbrothers @togethertogethersoulmates @pookeenpie

if you end up doing it, pls tag me! i'd love to see y'all's works! :)

-lizzy

so in no particular order, here are the five fics i liked the best/am the most proud of!

considering that everything i’ve written on this account (240k words of it good lord) was published since february 23rd, i’ve got a lot to work with!

i was in the fandom back in 2012-2013 until 2016-2017, and when i rewatched it recently with some friends, i realized just how many words and feelings had been broiling since. i wrote a LOT for spn back in the day (not published, just for the pure joie de vivre), but everything on the ao3 is completely new since feb!

1. tell me, why are you still so afraid?

or, the "what do you want, sam?" fic. this one might be a surprise! it did moderately well, but i'm really happy with it! i love writing weechesters/pre-series, and i hope this fic did them justice! it hit a lot of points i liked, and i had so much fun writing it!! i'm proud of it! :)

2. you're pretty when you don't speak

or, sam's wife pov. i was shocked!!! aghast!!! frankly agog!!! at how much folks loved this one! i had the idea in the shower of all places, lmao, just the idea that wait, being sam's wife must be so lonely. it was not the usual fare (and written in second-person pov), so i was expecting it to gently and quietly flop. but no! i wrote this fic in two sittings at one a.m. the night before a paleopathology exam, so i'm shocked any of it was coherent in the morning. thank you, dear reader, if you interacted w it at all! :)

3. romans 3:10-11

ahh, romans. to other folks that write, this was one of those fics that scratched in my bones until i sat down and wrote it all out. does that sound pretentious? it was stifling; it was all i could think about. even now, i look back on it and feel like there are things that are missing, extended scenes and extra themes that i wished i had teased out. the response was overwhelming and positive and i'm so glad you lot liked it! if you ever want more...idk...lemme know...

4. we didn't get it right, but love we did our best

or, the Heaven fic! this one took awhile to make, and a lot out of me to do! it's the longest fic i've made this year, by a lot! the planning process was a lot of fun (even though charlotte was mostly asleep), and i even colour-coded themes and turning points i wanted to include. the sense of accomplishment when it was done was a great part of this year!

5. there's no such thing as a clean break, when your heart starts bleeding out

or, the stanford!era fic where dean bleeds out on the highway and decides to not tell sam about it. one of my favorite things to write is a character getting more and more out of it as they lose control (or blood), and this one was a fun challenge! i love stanford!era dean, because he's so mangled and angry and sad. i feel like that one tweet that william shatner posted where he said ELECTROCUTE HIM!!! this also feels the most like the things i wrote back in 2014, so it brings nostalgia :,)

this was WAY harder than i thought! i loved and was so proud of so much of my work this year! a top ten would be easier, but i'm happy with this list!

thank YOU for reading! :)

we are holding hands now and there's nothing you can do to stop it. y'all keep this up and we might even have to stare lovingly into each other's eyes.

[sssammich]

fanfic writer questions

Thanks for the tag, @foibles-fables

1- How many works do you have on AO3?

i'm at 122 right now (wahoo!)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

794,634 (i am on a mission to 1 million in the next couple of years)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

well i've been around many a fandom block, but i'd say for current brainrot:

supergirl (mostly supercorp, but i have a smattering of rare pairs because women, amirite?)

swan queen

bumbleby (i also still have so many rosebird dreams i'll get there someday)

makayuro (with a smattering of rare pairs also because women, amirite?)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

well unsurprisingly, ever since plopping down on supercorp fandom, the numbers have been from there. but shoutout to my victorious fic from 2012 holding strong lol

evergreen, closest i get, not for nothing, you've got mail, and one way or another

5. Do you respond to comments?

yes yes absolutely!! sometimes i am late and sometimes i just leave it in there so i can have it stay unread but anyway i try to respond and i appreciate everyone who sends them to me. i have historically been a oneshot writer so it's been nice also to get comments on wips!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh shoot angstiest ending?? well i think i would say my supercorptober ficlet about memory loss of sorts might tick that (it ends kinda idk open but not bad, i will say)

but then there's also this one old soccer RPF i wrote that's more, idk, poetry than any real fic about one of them leaving lmao

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

the happiest ending? i mean all of them, i reckon. if they end up together or have a promise of together then they count lmao

8. Do you get hate on fics?

uhhh none that i've seen? i mean if it's in the comments, no? but if it's elsewhere, then also no? i have been fortunate in that way

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

OMG YES I AM FINALLY IN MY SMUT ERA

uh i reckon comedy smut for now (read DickFic here) but the day is young and my doc is empty so who's to say

but i have dreams for some sad smut because i'd like to develop the range LMAO

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

surprisingly, i do not. what i instead do is just little spin through five fandoms at any given time and just confuse myself that way

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

unfortunately yes. twice now. once was for my victorious fic that was used for a 5th harmony RPF lmaooo

and then on thanksgiving weekend, the first chapter of Crepe AU was posted by an anonymous for a The Wilds ship (but my friends rallied to get it taken down so i didn't have to send a takedown form to ao3 while i was traveling home)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope but that would be totally rad

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i love fic writing group work so yes! i have a series of sad angsty women that i have with my best friend in my revue starlight fandom, and then, of course, @sideguitars and i have 'humans in the storeroom' (that reminds me it's my turn to write the next part smh)

i also like jumping into writing sprints or writing exercises with folks (like a round robin)

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

let's not do this, i shan't pick amongst my children

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

so far all my wips are things i wanna finish and will do my best to finish. i have a couple of retired wips that will just sit in my ao3 forever and i have made peace with them, though.

16. What are your writing strengths?

i wanna say characterization, pacing, emotional resonance, and a simple and natural writing style maybe

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

action?? plot??? proper AUs lmao

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i do not because i find i butcher it and also then i cringe lmao

19. First fandom you wrote for?

oh written for but never posted? hermione/ginny

posted for? god probably All My Children (bianca and maggie) when i was like a teenager hahahahaha

20. Favorite fic you've written?

sorry no can do i love them all because i wrote them and there are so many things i enjoy about them. but i will say that the writing events circuit i've done this past year (supercorp bigbang, bumbleby big bang, and swan queen winter solstice) are born out of a lot of labor of love and i'm really proud of the work i've done for them.

and not for a writing event, but i am also extremely proud of re:live for mayakuro fandom-- that one makes me think that if i never wrote for that fandom again, that that's a really good fic to end on)

No-pressure tags, of course: @sideguitars, @eqt-95, @fazedlight, @luthordamnvers, @vox-ex, and @waytooinvested

(yall have probably done this before but here it just in case!)

[schofielded]

Ooh 2, 6, and 13 for Now and Then for the fanfic asks?

Heyyyy thank you so much for asking, my friend!! And since I've gotten a surprising amount of new 1917 followers recently, I'm going to link the fic this is referring to. It's the second part of a series. The first part is a one-shot that explores the immediate aftermath of the movie; the second part that this ask is talking about is a multi-chapter WIP fic called Now and Then that explores William Schofield returning home from the war after the events of the movie, down a hand due to infection.

2. What scene did you put down first?

I can't exactly remember if I wrote the letter Will writes to Tom's mom first, or if I wrote his return home/reunion with his wife first. I tend to write chronologically, unless there's a scene I can't get out of my head that I need to write first, or I've got writer's block and figure the best thing to do would be to skip ahead. But if I remember correctly, I started this chronologically. I just can't remember if I initially planned it with the epistolary elements at the beginning and end of each chapter, or if that was something I thought of doing later. I think it was earlier on in the process, though.

6. What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

This ended up being a lot of backstory before I finally got to the answer-- bear with me here. Before this fic, I'd mostly written fics for the Clone Wars. That fandom really burnt me out and it got toxic after a while (however, all my lovely, wonderful TCW mutuals rock). I was a little unmoored, fandom-wise, for quite a while, until I remembered how amazing the 1917 fandom was back in 2020. Everyone then was just so kind and friendly, so I got back into the fandom because it had always made me happy. However, I'd been too afraid to try my own hand at writing a 1917 fic, except for a short little one-shot that isn't really my best work, because I'd read all this absolutely incredible stuff from people in that fandom and I never thought I could measure up.

I'd taken about a year and a half off from writing fics in general, and then I wrote the one-shot that ended up being the prequel to Now and Then-- that first one is called Everything's Still. My original goal for it was just a oneshot that talked about Scho being buried alive because I think that's addressed in far too few 1917 fics. But then it turned into something else, and then I kept getting ideas that would require more fics, and then I also just in general gained slightly more self-confidence. I realized, why can't I explore my ideas? Who cares if I measure up to this arbitrary limit I had in my head, as long as I'm having fun? So here we are, with me writing a multi-chapter 1917 fic where basically everyone except for Will is an oc and it's so fun. Plus, I'd quite literally never written anything with romance in it, so that was another challenge for me, because Will's relationship with his wife (and his mostly-unexamined feelings for Tom Blake) are important parts of the narrative.

13. What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

I typically just turn on one of my random chill/folk music playlists (or sometimes my WWI playlist) when I'm writing, but the title of the fic does come from the Beatles song "Now and Then," which was their most recent (and last) song released in 2023. The lyrics in it relate to the version of William Schofield that lives in my head, who is aching and missing Tom Blake and his old life terribly, but cannot properly process those feelings because he simply doesn't know how to do so. You could also imagine that the lyrics were his wife Louisa's thoughts while Will was away at the war:

"And now and then If we must start again Well, we will know for sure That I will love you

Now and then I miss you Oh, now and then I want you to be there for me Always to return to me"

Also, the first fic in the series gets its title from the song "The View Between Villages" by Noah Kahan. And in general, I feel like "I Know the End" by Phoebe Bridgers fits the vibe. Basically, any song that's about yearning for a home you can never properly return to-- whether that home is a house, idea, person, etc.-- is a good song to listen to while reading this fic. Will's come back home from the war, but he's come back changed-- nothing will ever be the same again, and there is an ache inside of him that he can't quite articulate because of this. (Edit for more songs that came to my mind after posting: “Francesca” by Hozier, “Drops in the Lake” by Lord Huron, “12/17/12” by the Decemberists, “Colder Heavens” by Blanco White)

[norbezjones]

I've been thinking a lot about something concerning Romance The Backrooms, so I wanted to write it down and share it.

Content Warning: Discussion of suicidal thoughts, self harm, mental health issues, and homelessness. There is a hopeful ending.

I got the idea for RtB in October, when I was living on a friend's couch and trying to find permanent housing. That ended up being a really difficult month for me, because I self-harmed for the first time in months and, as a result, I went to inpatient.

I was there for a while, and I got better. With all the time I had in thee, I worked on creative things, and really fleshed out RtB. I couldn't live with my friend anymore after October ended, but the social worker told me that she would find me a group home.

However, when I was transferred to a different wing of the hospital, I was given a new social worker. And this one said that I couldn't get into a group home, and he was going to discharge me into a homeless shelter asap.

That resulted in a spike of suicidal thoughts. Why had I come this far, only for this to happen to me? Should I just end it? But, no--if I did that, who would be around to make Romance The Backrooms? If my light snuffed out now, that game would never be made.

I've been suicidal since I was 10 years old, and it's usually not big, grand things that make me want to stay alive. It's the dogs I would never pet and the movies I'd never be able to watch that make me say, "One more day." And RtB became my "One more day." It became the reason why I persevered.

After I was discharged, my friends told me that I still needed inpatient help & psychiatric care. So after toughing things out for a few days, I brought myself to the ER and was admitted. A few days later, I was brought to another inpatient, and two weeks later, that inpatient sent me to a short-term residential program.

It was a wonderful program, and I met some fantastic people there. I also worked more on RtB--I figured out all of my love interests, and drew them for the first time. On the characters profiles, which you can view here, there are drawings with the description, "Concept art from when I was in treatment in December 2023." These were all done while I was at the residential program.

I was able to scrounge up some money to be able to get an Airbnb after I discharged--it was cheaper than other options, and would hopefully be temporary while I searched for permanent housing.

Unfortunately, finding housing is difficult when you haven't worked in 2 years (mainly thanks to pseudo-dementia, which I've documented extensively in this game here), and don't have the money for a security deposit. I also wasn't poor enough or disabled enough to get help from the government. Very unfortunate.

Long story short, I ran out of funds to stay at the Airbnb in 2 months. I was able to get into a short-term housing program for homeless folks with mental health issues. That was when I met Kevin.

Kevin told me he could help me get hotel & housing vouchers if I went with him after our time at the program was done. I had no other options, so I did. I spent the money I had keeping us afloat at a motel while we waited for the voucher, and went across the state to a different one when Kevin told me the one we were at wouldn't accept the voucher. When he left to retrieve it, I waited very patiently for him to return.

He never did.

I suspect the whole thing was some sort of scam all along, and even though part of me knew it could be, I went with it because it was either go with Kevin, or go to the homeless shelter.

The next day, I had to check out of the motel--I had literally no money left. I gathered my bags and sat in the lobby--well, I say lobby, but there weren't any chairs or tables, so I was basically sitting on the ground in the corner of the room, with sun from the window scorching my back--while I tried to come up with a plan.

I made a lot of phone calls to people who might be able to help me, but nothing came through. Even 211 had nothing, because the homeless shelters in the town I was in were full.

I became suicidal again at that moment. Again, the eternal question: why had I come this far, only for this to happen to me? Should I just end it?

No, goddammit. If I go now, Romance The Backrooms will never be made, I thought to myself. I want to be around to make it. I want to be around to see it through. Come on, Bez. Things looks like shit, but let's keep going anyway.

Not long after that thought came to my mind, another person entered my head, someone else I could call. I wavered, but eventually decided to try calling them, and they answered. They were able to help.

It's thanks to them that I am where I am today. I have housing for a while, and I got a job that I'm satisfied with.

Best of all, I'm working on Romance The Backrooms.

I'm so happy I stayed around to see it through.