#seems to view me as some kind of oddity

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia

Feel free to ignore if this is unwelcome, but have you ever thought about publishing traditionally to sublimate your income and draw in new readers? I know you've self published two books already and that you didn't feel like they did very well, but maybe the experience would be different if someone else was in charge of marketing and all the other business stuff?

Obviously everyone's experience is different but as an author myself who's published both trad and self, traditional publishing has been a completely different experience and has allowed me to focus more on writing because I'm not the one responsible for advertising/marketing/financing anymore.

There are a ton of literary agents nowadays that want to represent diverse and lgbtqia+ fiction, some of them even in Australia.

Websites like Reedsy, AgentQuery and Jerichowriters have extensive directories to find literary agents.

(This is lengthy folks so I'm putting the other two parts (and my response) under a read more! Also putting it under a read more so the anon can skip my response since it's very 'here's all the reasons I can't do this' and they just might not want to read that, lmao)

(continued -> )

Trad publishing houses have better resources for marketing and helping authors get more attention than any self publishing website could.

Obviously most authors, unless they're really prolific, don't get a huge advance (the average is between $1000 - $5000) but getting your foot in the door or on the traditional publishing "ladder' so to speak can have a huge benefit for your serials. Because it gives you more exposure. Plus it's in the agent's best interest to find a publishing house that accepts stories that contain darker themes and negotiate the best deal for you.

For some reason places like Amazon and the like accept and keep up more "dark" books that are traditionally published than they do with self pub ones. Maybe because they have more respect or leniency for publishing houses? I have no idea. But you could use this to your advantage. I think I remember you mentioning that writing novels felt quite isolating to you? But you already have 2 completed novels (3 if you count the fae one) that you could potentially revisit or rewrite to your liking and get them represented by agents.

You already have a loyal readership and that's very attractive to trad pub houses and agents.

As well as trad publishing, you could also make s simple website that doesn't require much maintenance. It could be just a landing page that says something about you and then has links to your tumblr and patreon where you're more active. That way you increase the chances of getting your serials found by additional readers and also come across looking more "professional". Not that you're not professional now. You are and I admire you greatly, but the unfortunate reality is a lot of people still judge by appearances and some will be more drawn to an author's website than a tumblr page, at least at first. So I think having a simple landing page would open up another door for you to benefit from.

Trad publishing is work but definitely not as much as self publishing, and you can continue on with your serials. Getting an agent can be time consuming but I personally believe the pros outweigh the cons and I also believe that your stories would be a huge treasure to the growing lgbtqia+ market. Seriously there needs to be more!

These are just suggestions and thoughts and like I said before, feel free to ignore. But I know you've mentioned wanting to grow your career in the past and I genuinely believe you can do so with some of these pathways.

~

Okay, my response. Posting this because firstly I think the suggestions could work very well for other authors reading this! And I hope they take the advice to note, and secondly because I haven't talked about this for a hot minute so let's talk about it again.

So the TL;DR is yes I have considered traditional publishing. I have actually been traditionally published in short stories, poetry, and also had my art published on covers and re: interior illustrations. But my Fae Tales works got soundly rejected when I sent them to publishing houses that were doing open calls for that sort of material. I've never heard back from an agent and I never expect to, heh.

~

Now for a bit more detail

I have been traditionally published before (it's how I got my writing out there long before I ever wrote serials), and yes, I have approached publishers with my writing since then. In fact Tradewinds was written for the traditional publishing market, and it got soundly rejected, and then shelved. The reasons it was rejected ran the gamut from 'I don't like that these fae eat humans no one is going to relate to these people' (while the editor then went on to publish vampire books idk) to 'There's too much worldbuilding you can't expect readers to keep up with this' to 'Your stories are too long, no one wants to read characters talking all the time.'

Meanwhile in my online serials I was getting feedback like 'my favourite chapters are the ones where the characters just sit in a room and talk' lol.

The traditional publishing world is also not quite as utopian for most authors as you make it seem. I'm friends with a lot of authors who are traditionally published because that's the world I came from, and unless they're solely in KU and doing generic rapid release formula romances, none of them are making that much money. Certainly not enough to live off. It may have been that you were very fortunate, anon, but I know hundreds more traditionally published authors that left trad pub to make money, and I know about 5 in trad pub personally who are making enough to live off of.

Only one of those is really writing what she truly loves to write, and even then, publishing houses have refused to commit to her entire fantasy series (and she's regularly in 'Top 10/20 Women Fantasy Authors in the World' lists) and forced her to finish the series prematurely. Something I never ever have to worry about in self pub.

The reality is that in trad pub these days, you're still in charge of most of your marketing unless you're one of the big earners for the publishing house. In fact I'd be expected to keep even more of a social media and marketing presence than I do now. I don't do almost any of the things you're supposed to do as an author in marketing to be appealing. I don't have a Facebook author account. I don't have an Instagram author account. I don't maintain or regularly send out newsletters (which automatically puts me in the like 0.05% of authors who make money doing this lmao).

I don't know if you ever have looked that closely into what m/m publishing houses expect from most of their authors, but the newsletter swaps, cover releases, review circuits, interview circuits and more are fucking grueling. We're expected to be responsible for our advertising and our marketing to a fairly massive degree. Some traditionally published in m/m still have to pay for their release blitzes out of pocket. These publishing houses, by and large, do not offer advances. You say most authors don't get large advances. I don't think most authors in this arena get offered advances at all unless they're somehow miraculously acquired by a Big 4.

We're expected to have an already established social media presence because of that (that's why it's so appealing to publishers that we have social media presences already, anon, so we can market, they can save money, and we still see only a minimal cut from the royalties).

And you still have to focus on your finances, because publishing houses like Dreamspinner straight up didn't pay a whole bunch of authors for so long they destroyed careers. They still haven't paid some of their authors. And they're still running a business and people still buy their books.

Trad publishing houses have better resources for marketing and helping authors get more attention than any self publishing website could.

This is true if a) they're a big publishing house and not an indie publisher of which most LGBTQIA+ publishing houses are and b) they're willing to use them on you.

The authors that make the most money get the most resources. If they believe you're going to earn back your advance and move thousands or tens of thousands of units per book, then yes, you will get those resources.

I have been told so many times now - even from friends who run publishing houses, including one who works at HarperCollins - that my work will never be mainstream enough to have broad appeal. They literally told me not to keep trying re: trad pub, because that was my dream for a long time. These folks have given me rock solid advice in the past, it's one of the reasons I'm doing so well now via Patreon + Ream. But they were like (paraphrasing) 'you don't write 60-80k romances and you don't want to and that's not your strength anyway, you're multi-genre which makes you hard to market, you write psychological and literary trauma recovery which is hard to market, you write character studies which are hard to market, publishing houses often don't commit to series anymore if the first two don't move units and if they pulled the plug you'd be contractually obliged to never finish that series until your contract was up.' I could go on, but it was like yeah...actually. Fair.

For some reason places like Amazon and the like accept and keep up more "dark" books that are traditionally published than they do with self pub ones. Maybe because they have more respect or leniency for publishing houses?

They do, but most publishing houses want very formulaic dark romance which is not what I write.

I have a 300k omegaverse slowburn that still hasn't had any penetrative sex in it, anon. Publishing houses don't want that. They don't expect anyone will wait 4 full length novels to get to literally a single penetrative sex scene.

But you already have 2 completed novels (3 if you count the fae one) that you could potentially revisit or rewrite to your liking and get them represented by agents.

If I rewrote them to my liking, trad pub wouldn't want them. They'd be too long! I think agents etc. take one look at me and go 'oh god, no thank you!' I'm not an easy sell, by any means.

Plus I'm very e.e about all of that with the knowledge that they then give me only about 10-15% of the royalties on the sales, vs. self-pub where I get around 70%, or subscription where I around 80% of it. When someone subscribes to me, they don't have to worry about 85-90% of their subscription fee going to a publishing house. I don't have to think about how many thousands and thousands of books I'd have to sell to make the same amount that I do now via subscription.

As well as trad publishing, you could also make s simple website that doesn't require much maintenance.

If it was that simple, I'd be doing it. I don't mean this in a facetious way, I mean it in a: I've made a lot of websites, in fact I run one at the moment not connected to my writing (I've been running it for so long it's now in its 20s and can probably has a driver's license). I find it so tedious that I barely remember to check in on it. But forgetting about it means there's always maintenance to keep up with when I get back to it.

Running websites is simpler than it used to be, but it's still not simple. There's hosting and hosting costs, there's server changes, there's back-end maintenance etc. I'm considering it for down the track, but there's a reason I decided to go the route of Patreon over my own site. There are authors (like Christopher Hopper) who actually do subscription through their own domain, but it's a lot of work.

Even placeholder sites are still work. They need updating, details change, story titles changing etc. Maintaining my Patreon + Ream About pages is enough, they're always both a little out of date, lol.

Not that you're not professional now.

Oh no, I mean from a 'traditional publisher looking at me to see what kind of candidate I am' I'm really not though. Like I said, I don't have the newsletter (100 subscribers who get one newsletter a year is not really a newsletter), I don't have the Facebook/Tiktok/Insta/Twitter/Bluesky/Threads accounts, etc. I write multi-genre across multiple steam levels, and I'm allergic to writing serials shorter than 150k. One of my best performing original serials was an 800k contemporary story with no sex in it but a lot of BDSM. It can't be marketed as clean or sweet, it's not high steam, an entire chapter is 'boy saves snail from rain.' Also he was cruel to animals, so not exactly what I'd call a sympathetic main.

And yet that story did so well for me via Patreon + Ream, because people want the kinds of stories that publishing houses generally don't want and I happen to be writing them.

Trad publishing is work but definitely not as much as self publishing, and you can continue on with your serials. Getting an agent can be time consuming but I personally believe the pros outweigh the cons and I also believe that your stories would be a huge treasure to the growing lgbtqia+ market. Seriously there needs to be more!

Anon I just literally do not believe an agent would want to represent me. I have 0% belief in that. Not from a self-deprecating angle but from a 'I am not a good bet for the trad market' perspective. From a 'I have so many friends who are trad pubbed authors who stare at me like I'm insane for writing serials as long as I do' perspective. From a 'professionals in the industry have told me it's amazing I'm doing so well in serials because there's no way they'd take a risk on what I'm doing' perspective. From a 'just because it's queer and diverse doesn't mean it hits literally any other thing a trad pub is looking for' perspective. I've been doing this for 10 years. There are agents who represent work similar to mine who know what I'm doing and wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole. They're not missing out on a trick, they know I'm not broad appeal, and they're right.

Also the only way I'd have the energy to manage trad pub is by quitting serials. And honestly, I never found trad pub all that much fun while I was doing it for non-novel stuff. It was fine, and it is nice to have my stuff out there, but it was a ton of admin and a lot of going back and forth between people who really only care about marketing a product, and that's great and what they excel at! But I'm too disabled to turn this job into something crushing just to potentially make more money, I'd rather just quit and go back onto a full Disability Pension. I can't see any way I still get to write the stories I want to write, in the way that I write them, and be remotely appealing to a single reputable trad pub or agent.

Also *gestures to everything in this article*

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 48

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words: 7K

TW: Violence

Masterlist

———————————————————————-

Saturday, February 6th; 8:30 PM - At Miller's.

I don't feel very comfortable being here. Miller's house is packed. After getting out of the pool, Mapi received a message from him, inviting us to his party tonight. Surprisingly, our friends were tempted to go. I didn't expect Lucy to be one of them; she usually prefers to keep me away from parties. The fact that she's coming with me must change things a lot. So here we are, standing in front of the house, frozen, unsure if we're going in or not. I don't know about the others, but for me, that's definitely the case. The music is so loud it's making the walls shake. It's a typical college party, the kind we all know. Just on the porch, we can already see a dozen young people with red cups or cigarettes in hand, maybe even joints.

"I feel like I'm going back five years," Ingrid comments.

"That's probably true," Mapi giggles, earning a glare.

"Is this a fraternity?" Lucy asks.

"Oh no," Mapi laughs. "It's Miller's house, a friend of ours. His parents are often away on weekends, so he takes the opportunity to throw parties. Since it became a regular thing, his parties ended up becoming well-known."

"So, are we going in, or are we just going to stand here staring at them like idiots?"

The girls look at me, astonished. I was the one who wanted to come the least, so it's no surprise. However, I feel really stupid just waiting here. Besides, if we don't go in soon, I might end up turning back because of overthinking. Memories of my last parties are starting to resurface. If Lucy knew this was where I woke up with a rubber band around my arm, she might not have agreed to come. Ingrid and Mapi are the first to move forward. Lucy gives me a smile, which I return. I grab her hand as she extends it to intertwine our fingers. It's comforting to have her by my side tonight. We follow the girls through the crowd. Some people look at us like we're oddities, while others whistle at us. I chuckle as I see Lucy roll her eyes at their futile reactions. Initially, I always saw Lucy as a party girl, given how badass she seemed, but after getting to know her, I realize it's quite the opposite.

"Are they always like this here?" she murmurs.

"Are you overwhelmed?" I tease.

"No. I was just wondering if students are the same everywhere, but it seems like I have my answer."

"I've always said it gets worse every year."

"You're right. That's one more reason not to leave me alone tonight."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

I press against her to accompany my words. She wraps her arm around my waist in return, kissing my temple. I feel safe by her side, just as Lucy seems reassured, given how tightly she's holding me. What bothers me is that she doesn't seem very comfortable in this environment. We walk through the hallway where I greet a few high school acquaintances who recognize me. I glance around to make sure Feli isn't here. I sincerely hope she's given up by now. I don't know how I'd react if we ran into her. I take a deep breath at the thought. We're interrupted when Lucy has to take my hand again to navigate through narrower passages. She leads the way, firmly holding my hand. This gives me a chance to enjoy the view. I haven't had many opportunities to see Lucy in anything other than her uniform, but it's definitely worth it. I love her style. Right now, she's dressed all in black, which must clearly be her color. A sweater, jeans, and little boots that accentuate her already well-toned legs. It's safe to say she's irresistible. I feel almost pathetic in my black skinny jeans and denim shirt. I look back up at her face when I sense her turning around. Her expression makes me realize I've been caught red-handed. I blush with embarrassment, and fortunately for me, we arrive in the kitchen. This is where the guys usually hang out at the beginning of the party. It seems that's the case tonight as well.

"And here come the queens of the party!" Wick comments when he sees us. "Hey, girls... And you're accompanied too."

He looks at us all one by one, lingering first on Ingrid, then especially on Lucy. I frown, forcing Lucy to lean back against me.

"Go elsewhere, Wick. She's already taken," I reply sharply.

Lucy chuckles, wrapping her arm around my waist again. I don't find it funny. Wick is a big flirt when he's single. As far as I know, he doesn't have anyone right now, so he better not try to get close to my girlfriend. No one will get close to her, not tonight, not any other day. She's mine now. Under the laughter of our friends, Wick stammers an apology as he realizes our relationship. I never really showed off with Mapi back in the day, but I won't hesitate to do so with Lucy. We do a brief introduction before Miller speaks up.

"Well, welcome, and make yourselves at home. We're happy to see our girls accompanied," he smiles. "The girls will show you around; they're regulars here."

"We gathered that," Lucy mutters.

"We were thinking of heading out if you'd like to join us," he continues.

"We'll grab a drink first, and then we'll join you," Mapi announces, looking at us to give us a chance to object.

"Yeah, no problem," Miller finally responds. "See you soon, then."

Our ritual remains intact. We each go our separate ways, stopping at the drinks table while the guys head out. I don't worry about Mapi, who prepares my drink as usual.

"What can I get you, girls?" she asks after handing me my drink.

"Definitely not the same as Ona," Lucy grimaces after sniffing my drink. "What did you put in there?"

I smile at her expression. Something tells me Mapi made my drink strong.

"Do you want a taste?" I joke.

"No, thanks. But I think one drink is enough for you."

"Come on, it's not that strong!" Mapi protests.

"It's not up to you to decide," Lucy retorts.

"Oh, don't be such a wimp, Miss Picky. We'll show you what real fun is like here in Barcelona!"

"Hey, don't say that," I interject. "That's not what tonight is about."

"Of course," Mapi replies, rolling her eyes. "Your responsible one is here, and you're going to play the goody-two-shoes."

"Don't push it," I exclaim, playfully hitting her arm. "I've just decided to be reasonable."

"Sure," she mocks. "And the drinks?"

"Two beers will do," Ingrid replies.

"Pff. You guys are no fun," Mapi comments as she opens the two beers.

Having gone out with them before, their choice of beer no longer surprises me. It seems to exasperate Mapi, though. She probably expected something different from tonight.

"Times change, Maps."

I give her a wink, grabbing Lucy's hand to pull her outside with me. I needed some fresh air with all the people starting to suffocate me. We join my friends around the patio table.

"Hey, Ona! I didn't think I'd see you here again."

"Hey, everyone. And you're Alex, if I remember correctly, right?"

The poor guy gets booed by his friends because of my response. It's hard not to remember him. He was Joan's friend's brother.

"Um, yeah, that's right," he sulks. "I hope you still remember me. We met in Manchester."

"Yes, I remember very well. You tried to hit on me and convince me to reply to your messages."

Once again, his friends roast him because of me. It wasn't my intention. I just wanted him to understand that I still wasn't interested. I sit next to Lucy, who had found a spot, and smile when she immediately places her hand on my thigh. I catch Alex out of the corner of my eye, looking at us strangely. He must have figured it out. I don't pay him any more attention, preferring to focus on Mapi and Ingrid, who have finally settled in front of us. Now that we're seated, I take my first sip of my drink. I quickly regret it. I force myself to swallow the liquid that almost ended up being spat out.

"Damn, Maps! What did you put in this?!"

"The usual. Why?" she teases.

"No, this is not the usual! It's super strong!" I complain.

"Wimp," Ingrid mocks.

I hand her my drink, challenging her to take a sip. She laughs, raising her beer.

"Sorry, I've already got my drink. You only have yourself to blame for trusting Mapi to make your drinks," she replies, making my best friend laugh.

I grumble, giving them a grand middle finger. They've really hit it off.

"It's not like I didn't warn you," Lucy adds.

"I have to admit," Mapi chimes in. "I was afraid you'd stop her from drinking it, but I'm glad you didn't. Her face was priceless!"

"You learn through experience," Lucy teases.

She pulls me closer when she sees me pouting. That was really not cool. Lucy takes advantage of my mood to steal a kiss, which instantly cheers me up. She takes my glass and places it on the table.

"How about we go get you a new drink, hmm? I'd rather you have something else. »

I nod while smiling. We apologize to the others before heading back inside. Lucy stands by the table while I prepare myself a new drink. I opt for vodka with orange juice, measuring it much more carefully this time. I glance at Lucy, who seems completely absorbed by what's happening in the living room. People are going wild to the music. She turns back to me, tilting her head with a small smile when she notices me.

"So, this is the kind of party you like to attend?"

"Let's just say it's Mapi's thing, and I've always gone along with her."

"But you've grown to like it. You seem comfortable in this environment."

"Let's just say I've gotten used to it," I reply, shrugging. "I don't care about all these people. If I'm here, it's only for my friends who make it a good time."

And that's the truth. It's the only reason I used to enjoy coming. There were times I didn't come and later regretted it. I always felt like I missed out on the best moments, like I was excluded for not being there to share in the latest craziness.

"And you? Did you go to parties when you were in high school or college?"

She takes a sip of her drink, covering her little smile. A few days ago, she confessed to me that she was a bit of a nerd, but I still have a hard time believing it.

"No. I wasn't very popular, and I have a rather rational mother. I guess she passed those traits on to me."

"You can be rational and still go to parties."

"True, but it wasn't my style."

"Not even in college?" I ask, surprised.

"Well... Jenni did try to take me to a few parties when we were in Manchester. It was at a place like this that I met Kiera," she admits.

"I see..."

"I went with Jenni sometimes, but those weren't the places I preferred to go."

Now that I know all this, I understand better why she didn't like knowing I was here alone. Kiera was a junkie who used drugs at parties after all... She must have been afraid I'd do the same. I push that thought away to avoid dwelling on it here.

"So, what's your thing then?"

"My thing?"

She smiles again and finally looks at me. I nod.

"I prefer going to bars, restaurants, or the movies. Things like that. It might be more boring than parties full of drunk people for you, but it's what I enjoy."

"I don't find it boring at all. After everything I've been through, it'll probably be better for me to move on to that kind of gathering."

"I don't want to stop you from doing what you love."

"You're not stopping me, Luce. If my mom wanted me in this school, it was so I could find myself and grow, and that's exactly what's happening thanks to you."

"That doesn't mean you have to adopt my lifestyle. It's okay to have different styles."

"I know, but you were right about one thing. Parties aren't the best places for a former junkie, so I can make some concessions."

"Hmm..." she smiles behind her beer. "Then let's enjoy it. Do you want to dance?"

"I'm not a big fan of dancing," I giggle.

"Oh, come on. You could make an effort. Come on."

I glance at her hand for a moment, biting my lip. Her offer is very tempting.

"It's just that I don't really know how to dance. I don't want to embarrass myself."

"Ona, no one here knows how to dance if you watch them," she laughs. "Please. I really want us to dance together."

"I'll need several drinks first, in that case."

"Definitely not," she says, grabbing my hand. "I'll show you that we can have fun without drinking."

I groan as she pulls me toward the living room. We quickly find ourselves among strangers dancing together. I feel uncomfortable being here. Lucy tries to reassure me by placing my hand on her waist and smiling at me.

"Relax," she whispers.

She lets go and starts moving her hips in front of me. Damn... She must want to kill me. I'm practically frozen by the provocative scene she's giving me. She syncs with the rhythm of the music. I snap back to reality when she places her hands on my waist to get me to move too.

"You know, you'll look more ridiculous if you let me dance alone. Maybe I should find another partner."

"Definitely not," I growl.

She chuckles and slips her hand around my back to pull me closer. We're so close that I can feel her breath brushing my cheek. The tension is strong. So strong that I grab her neck without warning to claim her lips. It's been a long time since I felt such a powerful desire. Lucy softens our kiss to make it less rough. I then bury my head in her neck to collect myself.

"Let go," she murmurs to me through the music. "I'll take the lead."

I could almost believe she's talking about something other than dancing. She probably is, since it's clear she'll be the one leading our relationship. As she said earlier, she's the one with the rational nature. I don't doubt that she'll find our balance. In a surge of confidence, I wrap my arms around her neck to feel even closer to her. We've never been this close outside of a bed after one of my anxiety attacks. She pulls back slightly to look between our bodies moving in sync, thanks to her hands on my waist and one of her legs between mine.

"You told me you didn't know how to dance. That's not the impression you're giving."

"It's because you're guiding me," I giggle, making her shake her head.

"No. Your body moves very well. You just don't have confidence in yourself."

She's probably right. I enjoyed dancing when I was in high school. That's why Mapi insists so much when we're here. I brush her neck with my nose, focusing only on her presence that gives me the confidence I was missing.

"Ona...?"

Our bubble is burst by the one person I wanted to avoid tonight. Of course, she would be here... I force myself to turn around to make sure it's her.

"Finally, I was starting to lose hope!"

She tries to touch me, but Lucy steps in front of me, pushing me behind her. Feli doesn't seem pleased, furrowing her brow. Recognizing those eyes perfectly, I cling to Lucy. I can't tell if it's to protect myself or to stop her from tearing Feli apart, given the way she's looking at her.

"Who is this?" Feli asks harshly.

"Her girlfriend," Lucy answers before I can.

Feli's eyes narrow even more as she looks at me. Reflexively, I pull Lucy back, and this time it's out of fear that I do it. I recognize the signs of Feli when she gets angry.

"Please," I murmur to Lucy, tugging on her sleeve.

It's all I can manage to say, but Lucy must have understood my distress signal. She takes a step back, which immediately triggers Feli, who literally explodes.

"No! You're not going to run from me again!"

She tries to get close to me, but Lucy acts, shoving her away forcefully.

"Don't come near her. She doesn't want to see you or talk to you. Don't you think you've hurt her enough already? If you loved her as much as you claim, you'd do well to never contact her again."

"What business is it of yours, you little bitch? You don't know anything about what we've been through," she snaps.

"I know enough to convince Ona to take you to court."

Those words were too much for Feli, who decided to lunge at Lucy. I scream, closing my eyes to avoid seeing what happens next. I expected an imminent impact since I was standing right behind Lucy, but nothing happens. I slowly open my eyes, and what I see petrifies me. I expected to find Lucy on the ground, but it's quite the opposite. She's overpowering her... Feli, my ex, who traumatized me for years. This seems to enrage Feli even more as she tries to hit her repeatedly. Lucy dodges her punches one after another with great agility. She waits for her to lose steam before landing a punch on her cheek. Faced with this action, which I didn't expect at all, I cover my mouth to keep from screaming again. The blow was so strong that Feli stumbles backward, completely shaken. From the look of her, she must not be sober right now.

"That's for drugging Ona at a party. And this..."

She hits her on the other side, making her lose her balance again. She doesn't wait for her to regain her senses before grabbing her by the collar. The silence that reigns makes me realize the music has been turned off.

"And that's for daring to touch her. Now, stay away from her. Otherwise, she won't hesitate to press charges for what you did to her and for harassment too. Do I make myself clear?"

Feli is so stunned and intimidated by Lucy that she nods frantically. I knew she was intimidating, but not to the point of making my enraged ex give in.

"Good. Then stay out of her life, or I'll destroy yours by making sure you end up in jail," she threatens her.

"Oh my God, Ona."

I turn toward Mapi's voice as she immediately pulls me into her arms. I'm too shaken to understand anything. She steps back to examine me, keeping her hands on my shoulders.

"Are you okay?"

"I think so," I murmur.

"Let’s go," Lucy announced, extending her hand to me.

I took it without hesitation. Given her mood, this wasn’t the time to refuse her anything. I glanced over her shoulder to see Feli watching us with sorrow.

"We're coming with you," Ingrid said.

"There's no need," Lucy replied. "Enjoy the evening. We'll meet back at home later."

"Please take care of Ona," Mapi conceded.

"That's my intention," Lucy reassured her with a small smile.

We wished them a good evening, and then I let Lucy lead me toward the exit. The crowd that had formed had dispersed, and the music had resumed. I forced myself not to look back. It was a relief to finally be outside, where I could breathe again. I still couldn't believe she had hit her—twice, no less.

"Thank you..." I murmured once we were far from the house.

"You shouldn't thank me," she sighed in frustration, rubbing her forehead.

"You defended me."

"I'm not proud of hitting your ex, Ona. Even if she deserved it, it makes me feel like I'm just like her."

I stopped abruptly, making her do the same since our hands were still linked.

"You're nothing like her, Luce. You have nothing in common with her. Feli was violent and angry. You're not that kind of person, as far as I know."

"That's all the more reason to take her to court," she retorted. "I really don't understand you on this!"

I bit my lip, staring at the ground. I couldn’t give her an answer to that question. Feli had been a part of my life. No matter how much she hurt me, I still care about her.

"She's not a bad person deep down," I murmured.

"Oh, so hitting her girlfriend is being a good person!? When will you open your eyes, Ona? This isn't the Feli you met! If you do nothing, she won’t hesitate to hurt others, if she hasn't already! Is that what you want? For her to hurt other people!? Because I can assure you that’s what she'll do now that she knows she’ll never have you again!"

Lucy had never yelled at me like that before. Sure, she had scolded me, but never like this. I still didn’t dare look at her, now that tears were in my eyes. She was right. Of course she was right. When was she ever not right? She sighed again as she approached me, cupping my face in her hands. She must know me well to instinctively wipe my tears away with her thumbs.

"I know it’s painful, honey, but it’s the truth. I just saw Feli for the first time, and I can assure you there's nothing good in her. All she wants is to make you feel guilty for leaving her, so you’ll go back to her. Is that what you want?"

I shook my head and threw myself into her arms. Of course not, that’s not what I want. She pulled that trick on me for months. I literally collapsed in her arms. Everything I had kept bottled up since our encounter finally spilled out. I would have preferred to do this at home, but it was inevitable that the subject would come up on the way. I tried to speak, but nothing coherent came out, making her hold me tighter against her.

"Shhh. Calm down. I'm sorry for being so harsh, but it’s the only way for you to open your eyes."

"I-I don't want to... Y-you know that, right?"

"Of course I know, baby. But if you really want to move on, you have to take action. She won’t leave you alone otherwise."

I resigned myself to nodding. I had to do it. I’d been putting it off for far too long.

"D-don't leave me."

"Never. We’ll face this together, okay?"

I clung to her desperately, nodding again. She was my lifeline. Without her, I would have drowned in an endless ocean. She kissed my temple and rocked me until I pulled myself together.

"I'd love to stay here holding you forever, but I’m sure your bed is much cozier. Besides, my hands hurt."

I pulled away from her and wiped my cheeks with my hand.

"Sorry for thinking only of myself... Let me see your hands," I murmured.

"Don't apologize. And as for my hands, you can see them when we get to your place. Then it'll be your turn to take care of me... The idea of having a personal nurse sounds quite appealing."

I smiled at her attempt to lighten the mood. It wasn’t surprising that she was in pain. Having dealt with Feli myself, she must have used considerable force to destabilize her twice. She was really strong.

"Let’s head home, then... It’s my turn to take care of you. And even if you were joking, it’s non-negotiable."

"Is that an order, Princess?" she teased.

"Absolutely, Commander."

"Then let’s hurry. I can’t wait to be pampered by you."

I kissed her tenderly before we finished our walk without another word, staying close to each other. I appreciated the way she held me against her. I felt like I belonged. It was as if I could already see my whole future. It only took two weeks apart for my world to fall apart. She had become my everything, my reason for living, to the point where it was almost frightening. We arrived at my place, where a royal silence reigned in the hall. Well, that was until Joan came to greet us as we took off our jackets and shoes. It was so early that she was still awake. She was quickly followed by a very surprised Sophia.

"You're already back?" she asked us. "It’s only ten o'clock."

"Yeah... The party wasn’t that great."

I lied to avoid worrying her over something so small. She didn’t seem to question it. Lucy, on the other hand, remained silent, much to my relief. Sophia would have panicked if she knew the truth and would likely have insisted on making a diagnosis before I could even explain anything. I smiled when Lucy hugged my brother at his request. That was something new I hadn’t expected from Joan.

"Still up, huh?" she asked her.

"I was just about to put him to bed," Sophia admitted.

"We'll take over then. Thanks again for watching him tonight."

"No problem, Ona. What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

"Same as usual. Early in the morning."

"Well... I guess I'll see you next time then."

"We'll be back, I promise. Now go home, you’ve earned it."

"Thanks," she smiled. "Sleep well, girls."

"Good night to you, and be careful on the road."

"I will."

We exchanged a hug, and she gave Lucy a friendly nod before leaving. As for us, we headed upstairs, leaving Joan in my girlfriend's care. They went to my room while I searched for a pajama for him, as he had declared that he could still sleep with us. Given the circumstances, I would have preferred that he leave us alone tonight, but I said nothing since we already see each other so little. When I joined them, I found them deep in conversation. The bond between them was working out wonderfully, which delighted me to no end.

"Here, Jo," I said, handing her the pajama. "Can you get dressed by yourself? I need to take care of Lucy."

My brother pouted at my request but accepted without protest. Lucy smiled softly at me and let herself be guided to the bathroom, where she sat on the edge of the tub. I took her hands in mine and noticed that her knuckles were extremely red. I bit my lip, imagining the pain she must have felt.

"It’s not that painful," she reassured me calmly.

"Don't move, I’ll be right back."

Without another word, I went downstairs to fetch an ice pack for her. When I returned, my brother was keeping her company while brushing his teeth. The sight made me smile. It was the first time I didn’t have to fight with him about it. She gave me a smug smile when she saw what I had in my hands.

"Really, Ona? I'm not in that much pain, you know," she teased.

"Don’t argue. I promised to pamper you tonight, so you’re not allowed to protest," I replied in a mock-threatening tone.

She chuckled and nodded, not losing her smile. Before starting anything, I glanced at my brother to see how he was doing. He was wiping his mouth.

"All done," he said proudly.

"Go to bed, we'll be there in a minute."

He nodded, smiling. He then rushed into my room. I closed the door behind him for some privacy. As soon as I did, Lucy pulled me between her legs, making me let out a small cry of surprise. She smiled at me with that goofy grin again.

"So, where do we start, nurse?"

"Stop, it’s not funny," I giggled, playfully pushing her shoulder. "Come on, give me your hands."

Her hands, which had been caressing the back of my knees until then, slid to the sides and moved up to my waist. I grabbed them before they could go any higher and looked at her sternly.

"That’s enough, bad girl," I warned her as best I could. "Be serious for a moment!"

"Bad girl, huh?" she grinned, crossing her feet behind my legs. "Is that how you see me now?"

This action brought us even closer, making me blush. She was distracting me from my examination. I let my thumbs gently caress her knuckles.

"Of course not... Does it hurt? »

"I already told you it doesn’t."

"Put the ice pack on them anyway, please. They’re very red."

"Anything my princess wants."

I realized she was lying about the intensity of her pain when I tried to flatten her hand in mine. I looked up to see her grimacing, even though she was trying to hide it. I bit my lip to keep from commenting. This was definitely not the right time.

"Hold this. I’ll see if I have any cream to help with this," I said, placing the ice pack on her hand.

She held the ice pack without saying anything. The roles had changed drastically in such a short time. If she did this, it was for me, so I could only be grateful. I searched through all my drawers for the tube I had brought back from Manchester. A victorious smile spread across my lips when I finally found it. Even though I’m a doctor’s daughter and studied in this field, I don’t doubt that my care won’t be as good as hers, but I’ll do my best. I’ve always thought that it takes a certain instinct to take care of people. As for me, it’s clear that I don’t have any. 

Returning to her, I noticed that she had alternated the ice pack between her two fists. I took over as I moved back between her legs to apply cream to her first hand. I made sure not to look at her to avoid being unsettled.

"Why does she call you 'Oni'?" she asked suddenly, making me chuckle at the memory of that story.

"I’m not really sure, actually. I think she was confused that we don’t have the same last name so he wanted to give me a nickname to feel close to me. »

"Oh... So she has her father’s name?"

"Yes. His name is Joan Pascual."

"And your mother?"

I sighed at that question. It was a rather sensitive topic, but I played along and answered.

"She kept my father’s name. I never really understood why, knowing that they’ve been divorced for several years."

"Maybe to keep the same name as you?" she guessed, making me shrug.

"I don’t really know."

"And what about him?" she redirected the conversation. "Do you like him?"

I didn’t need more information to know she was talking about Marcus. Her change of topic wasn’t the best, given what I think about him. She seemed to understand because she removed the ice pack to stroke my cheek.

"You don’t have to talk about it."

"I will talk about it," I said, taking her hand again to give it the same gentle caresses as the other. "To be honest, I don’t have anything against him specifically, but I had a hard time accepting the relationship he had with my mother."

"Why?"

"I thought it was too soon. My mother wasn’t even divorced yet, and then, she didn’t tell me about it. I found out when I saw them in bed together... Imagine what that does to a troubled teenager..."

She nodded in understanding. The fingers of her free hand stroked the back of my knee like earlier.

"You weren’t a troubled teenager... You had the right to be hurt, confused, and angry about discovering that. How is your relationship now?" she continued, gently pulling me closer to her.

"Strange. I never really accepted it, but I was lucky to have him as a stepfather. He always tried to ease my relationship with my mother, and he’s always been a good father to Joan."

"How would you feel if he married your mother?"

I froze for a moment at that question. Of course, I had already thought about their marriage. I had already wondered why they weren’t married yet. After all, they’ve been living together for almost ten years now, and they have a daughter together.

"I’m not really sure... Better than a few years ago, for sure... If my father were still here, he would have told me to accept it because he would have been happy for them."

"He must have been a good man."

"He was," I said, wrapping my arms around her neck. "You remind me a lot of him, if you want to know the truth..."

"I doubt that. He seems much wiser than I am. Anyway, I’ll support you in all your decisions, no matter if I think they’re right or not."

"See, that’s exactly why you remind me of him," I giggled. "He used to say the same thing. I wish you could have met him... He would have adored you."

"And I imagine I would have adored him in return."

"Enough about me. What about your adoptive parents? Was it always smooth sailing?" I joked. "You’ve never told me much about them."

"There’s not much to say. My mother seems cold and strict at first glance, but she’s really kind. I wouldn’t be who I am now without her."

"I’m already dreading the first meeting," I muttered. "She’s going to terrify me..."

"Definitely," she laughed. "She loves to scare my partners. She always does that to see if the person will let themselves be intimidated or not."

"That must be unsettling..."

"It is," she smiled. "I’ve never seen anyone stand up to her."

I groaned just thinking about it. I know we’re not there yet, but if we stay together long enough, I’m sure I’ll meet her one day.

"Don’t worry, baby," she said. "She just keeps that tough exterior to make sure the person is right for me. Then she’ll warm up over time."

"Her opinion matters to you, doesn’t it?"

"A lot. No matter how much I cared about someone, she always opened my eyes when it was someone bad."

"Should I be worried...?"

"Of course not," she smiled. "You’re not a bad person; she’ll see that. But if I can give you some advice, don’t let her walk all over you... Otherwise, you’re doomed," she laughed.

"Oh my God," I muttered in despair. "Finding the right balance will be tough. Tell me your dad isn’t like that too."

"Oh no, he’s the opposite. He’s a bit naive, gentle, calm, and very caring."

"You must have your father’s heart and your mother’s character then..."

"I’ve never seen it that way, but you’re probably right."

We exchanged smiles after her response. She slowly leaned in to capture my lips. The kiss was very gentle and restrained. She timidly asked for access to my mouth by teasing my lower lip with her tongue. I granted it willingly. My stomach flipped in response to this unexpected affection. With her newly freed hand, she gently moved it up to my stomach. I immediately realized she had placed it on my bruises, which I could hardly feel anymore. She pulled back to whisper softly.

"It’s my turn to put on some cream."

"I already applied some this morning..."

"The more you apply, the faster it will heal. Isn’t that what you want?" she arched an eyebrow.

"Fine," I resigned, though I pouted.

I would have preferred to get back in bed now, but there was no point in arguing when she was right. She smiled victoriously as she grabbed the tube of cream.

"Lift your shirt."

I took a deep breath and decided to take it off entirely. After all, it wasn’t the first time she’d seen me like this. My action surprised her. She lifted her head to find my eyes.

"Come on, do your job..."

Without a word, she started applying the cream to my bruised stomach. She took great pleasure in doing it thoroughly.

"On your face too?" she murmured when she was done.

"I need to take off my makeup first."

She nodded, letting me move to the sink. I quickly removed my makeup, reminded of the situation I was in. When I turned around, she was looking at me in a way that made me blush. Her smile slowly widened.

"What is it?"

"Nothing... I’m just happy to be with you, that’s all."

"We could have been together sooner if it weren’t for your behavior," I teased.

"I have a feeling you’re going to remind me of that more than once," she laughed.

"That’s the only mistake you made, so... yes, definitely."

"Come here, you little rascal, so we can finish up."

I laughed, knowing full well she was joking. At least the tension had time to dissipate before our night. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been sure I’d sleep well. I returned to her so she could finish the job before putting away the cream. I went to brush my teeth, giving her time to change. As for me, I did it in the walk-in closet where there was enough space. We came out of our rooms at the same time.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" I suggested.

Our evening had fallen through, but that didn’t stop us from continuing it. To my surprise, she shook her head.

"I’d rather we go to bed. We can watch one during the flight."

"Okay," I agreed, looking at my bed.

I sighed when I saw my brother in the middle of my bed. It was going to be more complicated than expected to spend our night in each other’s arms. He must really like Lucy to have placed himself there.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," I muttered. "We can always go to another room. There’s no shortage of them here."

"Don’t be silly," she giggled. "He’d be upset if he didn’t find us here tomorrow morning. Hang on, I’ll move him."

"Be gentle; he can be a light sleeper when he wants to be."

To our relief, she managed to move him without waking him up. She motioned for me to lie in the middle, and she quickly filled the last space in the bed. The light was quickly turned off, and Lucy’s arms tightened around me. A sigh of contentment escaped me as she kissed my forehead. I snuggled up against her, trying to close any gap between us.

"Going back to school is going to be hard," I murmured with a groan, making Lucy laugh.

"It’ll be over soon," she said, holding me a little tighter. "The hardest part is behind us now."

She was right. We were closer to the end than the beginning. I leaned up to reach her lips. Then I settled back into her arms, where I truly felt I belonged. Our evening didn’t go as planned, but it ended much better than it could have.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Strange - Neuvillette

Author Notes: Happy MerMay Genshin Impact! I cheated a little and used Neuvillette this year. (Honestly using Dottore was a bit tiring last year so I decided to play nice with myself and not go with someone quite so challenging). This fic didn't really have any specific inspiration beyond being a MerMay fic. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender Neutral reader/ MerMay/ Mermaid AU/ Merman Neuvillette/ fluff/ romance implied/ sfw

Word count: 1097

Neuvillette was widely accepted as an oddity. This was something that had been the case ever since he’d first shown up at my home. Washed up on the beach, supposedly from a shipwreck.

It had been alarming when I’d found the beautiful young man who went solely by his surname and had always struck me as not entirely normal. And he’d immediately become the talk of the town. And even today, it was that way. Everyone had some sort of story about the mysterious Monsieur Neuvillette.

Rumors continued to fly around about how he was an escaped noble, because apparently only that could explain the easy grace he carried himself with, or that he was a tragically amnesiac sailor, since that would supposedly explain why he seemed to speak of his home.

No matter the rumor though, it was a simple truth that Neuvillette, despite his strangeness, was well-respected.

Deemed both reliable and sophisticated, everyone trusted the strange man who’d washed up on the beach and whom I’d shared my home with until he’d gotten himself settled in town.

I wasn’t quite sure that Neuvillette would continue to be regarded as quite so reputable if the townspeople could see what I was currently staring at in silent shock.

To be fair, I did have to admit that judging a person solely based on the presence of a tail did seem wrong. Especially when Neuvillette had always proven himself to be unfailingly courteous. But there was the town’s seemingly infinite number of folktales about merfolk to contend with.

Simply put, most did not look kindly on the people of the sea. And, with all the stories about merfolk drowning the innocently curious or raising storms over petty grievances, I could hardly blame anyone for their less-than-kind view of merpeople..

At odds with all the horror stories, Neuvillette gazed at me with that calm expression of his that seemed to be almost constantly present as his less-familiar tail curled idly under him and his webbed hands rested calmly on the rock that the tide gently parted around.

In no way did he look like a monster, and in no way did I really fear that he would hurt me, even despite the horror stories of his kind and the shock that he, himself, was in fact a merman.

Neuvillette was a great many things, but cruel or evil was not any of them.

He was strange, quiet, gentle, kind, and surprisingly patient with the incessant rumors that circulated about him, but never cruel or evil.

If the merfolk in all of the stories mirrored the ocean at its worst, with violently destructive waves that hurled ships against sharp, unforgiving rocks then, Neuvillette was the sea at its most gentle, as it quietly flowed along the shoreline in the most perfectly inviting fashion.

I sighed slightly before walking forward, wading through the cool water that lapped at my legs until I reached the large rock he sat on, looking exactly like something out of a storybook that warned its readers about how the beauty of merpeople hid their darker, more malevolent intentions.

But despite such warnings, I sat down next to him with little to no concern. Glancing at him quietly and noting how his strange, slit-pupiled eyes no longer seemed quite so odd now that I knew he was a merman.

“Aren’t you afraid that I’ll tell someone?” Instead of reacting in surprise or panicking to the revelation that he was one of the finned creatures I’d been warned about since my childhood, my voice was utterly calm as I watched the man next to me.

And as if he were mirroring my lack of reaction, he was seemingly unperturbed despite the risk my seeing him could easily cause him.

If I were to decide to tell others, it would no doubt devolve into a witch hunt for the once-respected Neuvillette, and those who praised him would quite likely be loudly filling the air with chatter about how they’d always known he was horrible.

But despite all that risk, he simply shook his head. The motion causing the droplets of water that had been clinging to his long, pale hair to fling out around him, “I do not think you would endanger someone that you once saved.”

I felt my eyebrows lift at his words before I shook my head with a fond smile, “I hardly saved you, you could have easily crawled back into the safety of the sea if I hadn’t found you. And no one would just leave some poor person washed up on the beach to die. I just happened to be the one who found you.”

He let out a slight hum, his gaze continuing to rest on me in the same steady way that it always had, “But few from your home would choose to sit next to a merperson.”

I shifted, twisting so that I could better meet his gaze as I met his question with one of my own, “Would many from yours choose to come on land?”

A smile flickered across his face, gentle and amused, before he shook his head once more, “No. Few would.”

I hummed, laughing slightly as I nodded. Wholly unsurprised by his answer.

I didn’t know much about merpeople beyond the folktales, but I wouldn’t be surprised at all to learn that they were just as wary of people on land as we were of them.

I felt myself smile as I met his gaze once more, “I guess that means we’re both strange then.”

And it was true. He was Neuvillette, the man who’d washed up on a beach, remained an enigma to everyone in my town, and hid the secret of being a merman. And I was the person who’d found this strange man, brought him home despite the risk of who he may or may not be, and now I was also the person who would be keeping the secret of his true nature from my entire village.

A smile crossed his face again, this time staying there as his eyes closed in an amused manner as he nodded. Silently accepting the strange position we both shared and even seeming to welcome it as he responded in that easy tone I was so used to, “Perhaps so.”

And, as I sat next to him on the sea-beaten rock, I supposed it was fitting that it was me, the person who’d taken in a mysterious man whom everyone had regretted as strange yet respectable, who sat next to the strange yet respectable merman.

[loveandleases]

(Our first character fluff alphabet, and who better to start with than M (arshmallow. Below the cut~)

A = Admiration - M admires kindness.

B = Body - M is a fan of thighs. The thicker the lovelier to them.

C = Cuddling - M is the type to be quite clingy when cuddling and not wanting their partner to move for quite a bit.

D = Dates - M's ideal date would be staying in, just vibing with their partner. Not doing anything. They just want to be able to spend time with their partner, which isn't that important as long as they can be together.

E = Emotions - M can be a bit secretive and hold some emotions back. They have a hard time opening up. Though they always seem to have a smile on their face, something else hides underneath.

F = Family - M is fine if their partner wants a family, also fine if they don't. They don't have strong emotions about it.

G = Gifts - As the only child of their parents M has gotten many presents over time, not even for meaningful days such as a birthday or a holiday. To them, gifts are small ways to show you care about someone and should be given whenever. Not just for holidays.

H = Holding Hands - M will be shy when holding hands but it won't cause them to want to stop. They will just be blushing the majority of the time. If their partner tries to pull away to make M more comfortable they will refuse to let go. It's for the better.

I = Injury - If M gets hurt, they will play it off as if it isn't that serious. Yet internally the amount of swearing they will be saying is immeasurable. They could give a certain redhead a run for his money.

J = Jokes - They aren't fans of pranks, but they do enjoy a good job—especially a dad joke. To them, their quite funny, even dry humor can be admired by M.

K = Kisses - Soft and reserved. However, once they get comfortable it will be firey.To the point that there may be some bruised lips among them.

L = Love - Spoiler

M = Memory - Not applicable, just yet.

N = Nightmare (what is one of their fears?) - M is afraid of turning in their book late.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?) They love horror but are afraid every time they watch it.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?) Sunshine

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?) M likes to take walks late at night, especially after they finish a chapter of work. They enjoy admiring the scenery outside, be it alone or with someone.

R = Rhythm (what song do they hum to themselves, when they think no one is listening.) Kiss me by sixpence none the richer

S = Secrets (how open are they?) M is very secretive, though they may let things slip from time to time.

T = Time (how do they spend their time?) More often than not, M can be found working in their apartment. Or asleep at their desk.

U = Upset (how do they act when they're upset?) They plaster on a smile pretending as if they are fine when they are sulking. Will be for a few days.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?) M is very proud of their achievements as a writer.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?) M would fight for MC. With a smile on their face the entire time, that is until MC isn't looking.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?) Not applicable just yet.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?) They would, once they stop freaking out about it.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?) Knowing that MC is there, and sitting just enjoying the view. (Which will be MC more often than not.)

[cosmicjoke]

Thank you for the "Bad boy analysis". It was a great read. I absolutely appreciate how detailed you went through the 18 pages and how connected it to the contrasts in Levi and Zeke's view toward human life.

And my goah! After reading this analysis, I hate that glasses dude even more. He was doing his best to make Levi feel guilty about the men he killed (imo the killings were completely justified btw) by bringing up Kuchel's feelings toward all of this just to save himself. As you said Levi saw through his lies. I'm not sure about this but I also believe he was gonna tell everyone eventually that Levi had a connection to Kenny, that Levi's power kicked in and he killed everyone which would've endangered Levi's life again. Of course it would've been hard to believe as Levi said but it was a risk. Maybe that's also one of the reasons Levi killed that man too aside from the fact he would've continued with his horrendous deeds like selling and killing children! That guy was truly disgusting. I was literally trembling while reading those panels :'(

Hi there, and thank you so much! I appreciate your kindness more than I can say!

Ugh, yeah, that man in the glasses was absolutely sickening to me. I wouldn't be surprised if your theory is true, that he would have told others about Levi's power. I wouldn't be surprised, even, if he would have tried to gather together a group to specifically target Levi and capture him to sell as some kind of sideshow freak, or oddity to be gawked at. Or even just attempted to kill him later on, to eliminate the threat of him, or to save face. As that other piece of shit that was beating Levi said, gangsters in the Underground couldn't be seen showing mercy, so it seems likely to me that that man would have eventually gone after Levi again just to save his reputation and ability to operate his criminal enterprise. A man like that was capable of anything, truly. There wasn't any kind of depravity he was beyond. What he did to Levi, by saying what he did about his mother, was beyond disgusting, and beyond cruel. He essentially ruined the one, good thing Levi had left in the world. This single, fleeing image of his mother.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

Febuwhump Day 4

Knife to Throat – Med OC/TBB

Warnings: Good bit of blood in this one, and a fair bit of cursing. Kinda flirting with death a bit, and some light fluff that goes with it. Knife wound and subsequent medical procedures.

WC: 2,211

I didn’t even pause; foolishly oblivious as I raced eagerly up the ramp that had long since come to symbolize home. We’d been on foot for four days infiltrating an independent outpost believed to be hosting Separatists. From what Tech and Echo were able to tell from pouring through data at numerous servers, those fears seemed unwarranted. I almost wished they had found proof. An absence of evidence isn’t the same as innocence, so we’d stayed long past our initial plans to be sure nothing was missed.

Hungry, tired, sore, and desperate for a long date in the sonic, as soon as that final hill came into view, I pushed ahead of the others, threatening them with the kind of violence only a medic was capable of if any of them tried to pry me from the fresher before I saw fit to leave. I should have stayed with them. I should have wondered over the oddity of finding the ramp already ajar, but all I saw was the welcoming invitation of comfort, and I didn’t hesitate.

Lips tensing against a smirk, I hazardously littered the floor with my freshly shed armor with each step nearer to the fresher, knowing how it would make Crosshair scowl. I’d just reached for the hem of my shirt when tendrils of ice shot down my spine. The too-thin skin veiling those precious, delicate arteries crawled beneath the freezing length of metal pressing carelessly just beneath my jaw.

The air caught in my throat, muscles snapping taut. Wide eyes darted over the empty hall stretching before me, lingering on the open doorway leading to the bunks where what supplies we’d left had been tossed to the floor. Chest bucking beneath fluttering gasps, I felt my head shift ever so slightly to the side, overcome by that instinctual need to see them, to grant myself some deeper understanding of the danger, but a hand clawed into my hair, wrenching my neck upright and tearing a choked whimper of pain from me.

“Doc?” Hunter called, word lilting between confusion and concern. He must have heard me. Could he smell the panic flooding my veins? Could he hear the rabbiting pace of my heartbeat?

“Stay back!” A man roared inches from my ear, voice shrill with madness and terror. The sudden depth of silence seemed only to mock the trembling stutter of my breaths.

“Alright. We can-” My words broke in a sharp whimper as that knife pressed harshly into me, just enough to slice through that first layer of skin and send bursts of icy panic surging through screaming nerves.

“Okay!” Hunter shouted. I’d never heard him afraid before… that realization threatened to strip me of whatever sliver of control I was clinging to. “Just tell us what you want!” I felt the man trembling against me, felt it in every flinch of the knife dancing beneath my jaw. He’d hit the external jugular vein first. Maybe the retromandibular or facial veins if his arm tensed… though the superficial cervical artery was dangerous close as well. I couldn’t keep myself from naming them, from itemizing; calculating the severity of the damage, how quickly I’d bleed out.

“Drop your weapons!” He shrieked. The chorus of thuds sounded in mere seconds. “All of them!” He added, voice cracking.

“We have done exactly as you instructed.” Tech’s carefully mediated voice answered.

“Step back! I swear, if anyone tries anything!”

“Alright.” Tech replied in that same calm. “You’re in control here. We’ve backed away from our weapons. What is it you want?”

“What do I…” He nearly sobbed, body curling against mine for just a moment before forcing himself straight. “What I want is for you keep your karking war far away from my home!” The way he jostled me as he screamed sent the blade just that much deeper, and every fiber of my being seemed to focus on the strange heat trailing down my neck.

“We are!” Echo… Gods, the terror in his cry twisted my stomach into knots. “We’re-”

“Liar!” The man screeched, arm tensing. It didn’t feel like pain… it was just… cold… A terrible cold that made the heat sliding over my collarbone all the more wrong. “First those damn machines came! My sister didn’t even know what they were! They didn’t need to kill her! And now you kriffing meatdroids show up! How long before this whole place turns into a karking wasteland because of some kriffing war we never wanted any part of?!”

“I understand you’re angry.”

“You don’t understand a damn thing!” My legs staggered beneath me as he hauled me with him toward the ramp, wide eyes cringing against the suddenly blinding light, but I fought desperately to see through that burning glare, to find them amidst the white. Tech was the closest, barely five yards away, arms raised above his head. Hunter and Echo stood mere steps behind him with Wrecker towering just beyond them.

“How could you?!” The man continued, sobbing, “You’re no better than those kriffing machines! All you know is how to destroy! You don’t… you don’t understand… not… not yet.” The way his voice quieted, as though finally grasping the answer to some illusive, vital mystery… I barely had time to gasp before that terrible cold buried deeper into my neck just as a flash of light hissed past me, the very air burning in its wake.

The chorus of shouting should have been unintelligible as the sudden deadweight of the man dragged me down with him, but my mind seemed determined to commit everything to memory; the terror in Wrecker’s wordless shout, the rage in Hunter’s plea, the dread and sorrow in how Echo called my name… Even Tech’s voice lost some of his infallible steadiness as he immediately itemized what they needed to do. And Crosshair… Even amidst the chaos, my eyes seemed drawn to those gleaming curls of silver as he sprinted toward me.

“Hunter, get the medbag! Echo, prep the ship for takeoff! Wrecker, on my lead, you’ll need to carry them inside!” Shock. Some distant whisper told me I was going into shock. That’s why everything was so cold, why my body shook so violently despite the glaring heat from that blinding sun overhead.

I heard the whimper catch in my throat before even realizing Tech had dropped to his knees at my side, hands effortlessly pushing mine away before pressing mercilessly against my throat. Only then did the pain finally register, poisoning my every thought, worsening with each stolen breath. No… no-no-no, I knew this – I knew what to do. I vainly fought against the frantic seizing of my diaphragm, lips trembling as my jaw fought to open, vaguely aware of Hunter digging through my bag and handing bandages to his brother.

“Please do not try to speak.” Tech instructed, and I couldn’t help but quiet beneath the comfort of his usual calm. “I assure you: it feels worse than it is. There is no arterial bleeding, and the wound isn’t deep enough to be life-threatening if properly treated.” If treated properly… Despite everything, despite the deep hurt throbbing down my neck with each beat of my pounding heart, despite the lingering panic of helplessness and the shame for letting myself fall into such a stupid position to begin with; despite all of it, a tiny chuckle escaped me. The surprise that flashed over Tech’s face lasted barely a second before returning his focus to keeping me alive.

Severed flesh and raw nerves balked as he quickly slid a thick wad of gauze beneath his hand before redoubling the pressure. My torso bucked, body violently demanding I fight to escape him, heel dragging uselessly over the metal floors. It was all I could do to ball my hands into fists lest they claw at his forearm in some futile plight for relief. The too-quick thudding of my heartbeat reverberated throughout my body in deafening booms, skin itching and muscles twitching beneath a deep sense of wrong as my lungs worked frantically to compensate for the lost blood blooming through the white bandage to continue a steady metronome as heavy droplets plinked onto the puddle slowly spreading out below me.

“Hey-hey! Stay with us, Doc!” Hunter’s sudden order ripped my attention back to the frantic movement around me. Tech still held one hand firmly to my neck, while his other slipped beneath me to cradle my head. I only vaguely felt Wrecker cross my arms over my chest before carefully sliding his arms beneath my shoulders and knees. On some silent signal, they moved in perfect unison, lifting me as though I was weightless. Floating. Some fleeting thought cringed at the mess left in our wake; the crimson beads like a trail of breadcrumbs leading through the entirety of the ship. Poor Hunter would likely taste the sharp tang of iron for weeks no matter how carefully we cleaned.

“Doc! Look at me, Doc – keep your eyes open!” The Sergeant barked, that worry again seeping through his smoky voice. My chest jerking beneath a sharp gasp, desperate to refill starving lungs as though I’d simply forgotten to breathe. Breathe. Keep… keep breathing. It was getting hard to think, to hold onto one train of thought long enough to make sense of it. Hunter. I could feel the rough calluses of his hands against my cheeks, felt the blessed heat of him sinking into chilled skin.

Lazily, my eyes wandered over the stunning amber of his skin, lingering over each nick from some long-healed injury, roamed over the waves of nearly black hair rolling down that thick neck, noted the dirt collected in the nooks and valleys of tendons from too long in the field, how droplets of sweat left networks of trails cascading down to the damp fabric of his blacks. Gaze traveling listlessly past the smudged red of his shoulder, some part of me recognized the medbay, rationalized that I wasn’t floating – that I never had been – that Wrecker had carried me through the ship so Tech could better treat the still bleeding gash in my neck… that I was already beginning to slip in and out of consciousness and we were days from the nearest Republic base.

Think. I knew what to do to fix this. I knew how to stabilize severe blood loss and staunch venous bleeding. This was my medbay. My job. My life. I knew how to fix this. My jaw shifted sluggishly, muscles straining to remember how to function as my body spiraled, air barely wheezing in that first attempt at speech.

“Easy, Doc – don’t try to talk. Just stay with us, okay? Tech knows what he’s doing.” His voice dropped into a murmur, hands shifting slightly against me. I barely felt the prick of the autoinjector, but the sudden flood of heat brought with it its own panic. Jaw snapping shut, my muscles went taut, eyes going wide as I tried to still the violent restlessness driving me to move.

“Whoa, easy – you need to keep still.” He instructed, hold becoming ever so slightly restrictive.

“That was a stimulant to help your body begin replacing lost red blood cells.” Tech stated, and I could hear a weariness in his voice. “The bleeding has mostly stopped, but we’re en route to The Dominator. Their medical facilities are far superior to ours.” I couldn’t help but take offense to the statement, and Hunter let out a quiet laugh.

“They’re a capital ship. Kind of hard to compete with that.” He offered with a smirk. The initial jitteriness from the stimulant was quickly beginning to settle, mind slowly returning to some level of awareness, and that earlier shame stole over me.

“M… ‘m s’ry.” The broken attempts at speech slurred over swollen lips, brows drawn together as I forced myself to meet Hunter’s eyes. His shoulders sank beneath a heavy sigh, hands slipping away to rest briefly atop the cot before pushing himself to stand up straight.

“That situation could have been handled better by all of us. We’ll talk about it after you’re back on your feet. For now, I’m pulling rank,” I couldn’t help the small smile that crept over my lips at the mischievous glint in his eyes, “You’re on bed rest until a doc from The Dominator clears you. Tech’s acting medic until then, which means you follow his orders – whatever he says. Got it?” From how he laughed at the deadpan glare that instantly soured my face, I didn’t doubt this was secretly some punishment for my carelessness.

“I don’t see what’s so funny about that.” Tech retorted, hands working a washrag over his fingers in an attempt to rid his skin of blood already beginning to flake. With a slow breath, I merely shot the pilot a grateful smile before letting my eyes close, the heaviness of my body pressing me limply into the thin padding of the medical cot. After a moment’s stillness, I felt a hand settle lightly over my arm, drawing my attention back just before sleep could overtake me. Tech’s eyes stared carefully into the mattress just below my ear for a long while before, without a word, turning quickly away and treading through the medbay doors.

Fanart!! - by @mythical-illustrator

Continue Reading

Click here or message me if you'd like to be added to a taglist!

Click here for my Masterlist.

[shipcestuous]

Grendel/Grendel's Mother anon, back with more Beowulf incest thoughts! Even if more from a "academic curiosities & oddities" point of view, this time...

This unfortunately requires a bit more background than the last ask, so please bear with me. I promise the conclusion is gonna be fun!

So, in Beowulf, king Healfdene of the Danes has three sons, Heorogar, Hrothgar, and Halga, and one unnamed daughter, who is married off to a foreign king, possibly Onela of the Swedes. By the time the whole "Beowulf comes to Denmark to vanquish Grendel" plot happens, the first one has likely died, as he doesn't appear in the poem, and there might have been some sort of conflict between him and his brothers, as Hrothgar, now king in the hall of Heorot, gives Heorogar's armor as a reward to Beowulf even as the narrator points out that the he could have given it to Heorogar's son, Heoroweard, instead. Halga has possibly died, too. A nephew of Hrothgar, Hrothulf, is living in Heorot and is always mentioned together with the king, hinting at a close relationship, perhaps a surrogate father-son one.

In later Norse sources, all these characters have their own equivalents. Well, almost all of them. King Halfdan has only two sons, Hroar (Hrothgar) and Helgi (Halga), and sometimes a daughter, who marries a Swedish king and is sometimes called Signy. Hrolf (Hrothulf) is explictly and consistently Helgi's son, fostered by Hroar after Helgi's death... and here's where things start getting intriguing.

See, we don't know a lot about Anglo-Saxon Halga, though we can assume he was a rather positive character, as the Beowulf poet calls him "the good"... but Norse Helgi? A nasty piece of work, really. In one story, he rapes a serving girl, and in another, a queen, but the end result is the same. Years later, Helgi meets a beautiful girl named Yrsa, and either rapes her, too, or actually falls in love with her and marries her, making her his queen and having little Hrolf with her... before finding out that Yrsa herself was born from the rape he committed in his youth, meaning he had a child with his own daughter.

Following this, Yrsa invariably divorces him and flees to Sweden, where she marries king Adlis (who has his own Anglo-Saxon equivalent in Eadgils, a nephew of Onela - see above... and remember it for later *wink wink* - who eventually goes to war against him). While Helgi has a few more options: he kills himself because of the shame of his unwitting incest, kills himself for supposedly unrelated reasons, dies during a war expedition against Adlis, or dies during a war expedition against Adlis that he went on because, after trying to convince Yrsa that their relationship could simply go on as it had before the reveal and failing, he wanted to take her back from her new husband.

Heorogar, as you can see, just kind of falls to the wayside. But his son Heoroweard becomes Hjorvard, an ostensibly unrelated king who is defeated by Hrolf but then becomes his ally and marries Hrolf's witchy half-sister (Helgi also raped an elf-maiden at one point... *sigh*) Skuld and is convinced by her to fight and kill Hrolf and usurp his throne.

Now, that last bit is important to consider because, in Norse sources, Hrolf is a bit of a King Arthur character: marked by an act of unwitting incest and betrayed and usurped by his family and allies, but a great king nonetheless, brave, clever, generous, and able to rule a proseporous and peaceful kingdom while attracting all sorts of loyal champions with bizarre powers and origins to his court before his inevitable ruin. On the other hand, in Beowulf... well, tbf, he doesn't really do much besides sit by his uncle/possible foster father Hrothgar and seem to have a pretty good relationship with him. But the passages that mention him also allude to some sort of strife or even a feud between relatives in the royal Danish household's future, and so critics have traditionally interpreted them as hinting that, after Hrothgar's death, his young sons will be killed by Hrothulf, who will then betray his family and commit an usurpation himself. Bit of a striking reversal, isn't it?

One passage that's often mentioned to support this interpretation is a speech given by Wealhtheow, Hrothgar's wife and queen and the mother of his children. As Hrothgar has understandably taken a shine to the heroic Beowulf and would like to have a sort of father-son relationship with him, too, Wealhtheow accuses Hrothgar of wanting to literally adopt Beowulf as his heir and then advises im against it, saying essentially that Beowulf is great and everything, but now that Heorot has been saved, he'll need to return to his own people, so Hrothgar should look towards his kin, like Hrothful, who's always been faithful to them and will surely also treat their sons, and especially their heir, with honor even in the future. The "traitor Hrothful" view generally leads to two understandings of her words: in one, Wealhtheow is a hapless victim of dramatic irony, trusting someone who will one day harm her children and may be already plotting to do so over a full-fledged hero, while Hrothgar's adoption plan, if he really was thinking of it like that, could have saved everyone a lot of heartbreak; in the other, she knows exactly what she's doing, and fears that Hrothgar promising a spot in line for the throne to some wandering monster-slayer who probably won't stick by anyway will infuriate Hrothful and cause him to retaliate in some way, leading him to placate or guilt-trip him with affectionate words to buy her family some more time.

But there's also a newer interpretation that looks at the classical one and asks, "but do we REALLY know that Hrothful is a traitor?" I won't bore you (more than I already am, lol) with linguistic arguments concluding that the sinister foreshadowing that seems to appear in certain lines may not actually be there, or with reconsiderations of Danish royal genealogies and how they might disprove the early deaths of Hrothgar's sons, but I will say there is a pretty convincing argument to be made about how early Germanic societies often didn't care that much for primogeniture and how it wasn't uncommon for early Germanic kings to take on one or more younger male relatives as co-rulers, which could mean that Hrothulf might have been Hrothgar's legitimate heir and/or his second in command already, no treachery needed to get on the throne. The implications of betrayal and family turning against family might have originally been about Heoroweard behaving exactly like Hjorvard, but with some extra kinslaying on top.

Some theories, however, don't just stop there, creating more far-fetched but quite entertaining hypotheses...

Remember how Healfdene also had a daughter? Well, there's are some who argue that, given how Anglo-Saxon poetry was based on allitteration, that name this is sister is sometimes given in Old Norse, Signy, wouldn't actually fit in the Beowulf line where she's mentioned. But there's another Old Norse name from the stories about Hrolf that may fit better... Yrsa. Yep! We have officially entered "maybe this originally brother/sister incestuous relationship morphed into a father/daughter incestuous relationship only later on" territory! Yrsa (or whatever her phonetically-similar Anglo-Saxon equivalent) could have had Hrothulf with Halga, left her family, married Onela, and then, willingly or not, married again a third time when Eadgils defeated and killed Onela, a sad but unfortunately rather common fate in the kind of society she would have lived in.

And yet, it seems... there are those who take this even a step further. Kind of hard to believe, right? But not too hard, I hope. Because I'm finally reaching the fun oddity I really wanted to talk about. Better late than never!

See, I have actually run into a theory according to which... Wealhthoew and Yrsa might be the same person. This, based on Wealhtheow's speech I mentioned above: Welhtheow's support for Hrothulf over Beowulf, here, would not be based on naivety, fear, or even simple acceptance of Hrothulf's already established status in Heorot and genuine trust in his loyalty, but on wanting her own firstborn son to be king! And perhaps, on being closer to him than to her other children, as he would be the one son and the last reminder of her dead (first) brother-lover...

Unfortunately, I found this Wealhtheow = Yrsa equivalence in an article discussing Hrothulf's figure and referring only in passing to the book it was formulated in. So, I don't know if and how the original author who came up with it might have addressed the obvious questions such a theory would naturally give rise to. Such as...

If Halgi/Helgi and Yrsa couldn't be together due to being so closely related, whether as brother and sister or father and daughter, why would would Yrsa then marry Hrothgar, one of her other brothers? Were there any complicated half-siblings mathematics at play, like Hrothgar sharing a father with Halgi but Halgi actually sharing only a mother with Yrsa, who was really Healfdene's stepdaughter, making Hrothgar/Yrsa technically not incest?

Why did Yrsa change her name to Wealhtheow? And why does the poem identify her as coming from a whole other clan in a whole other place?

Was the Halgi/Yrsa incest still unknowing? What about the Hrothgar/Yrsa incest? Did "Wealhtheow" adopt a fake identity to marry Hrothgar? Was Hrothgar in on it? Was there a whole incestuous love triangle going on when the siblings were young, with Yrsa going for one brother and then using the other as a rebound after his death, or was Hrothgar just like "look, we'll pass you off as a foreign princess so you'll get to stay here at home under my protection with your son and no one will say anything about your past" but then they ended up behaving like a real married couple and having kids together anyway?

Was Hrothulf aware of literally any of this?? What about his cousins/siblings???

Where does the marriage to Onela even come in during all of this????

... personally, I think the original author thought they'd found a neat, clever solution to tie together Anglo-Saxon and Norse sources in a coherent manner once and for all, but they just didn't consider the consequences of what they were putting on paper. And so they accidentally ended up with potentially the most convoluted period soap opera ever!

Apparently, they distanced themselves from this reading in their later work, thought, which is all things considered a very understandable choice. But you know what? A Beowulf retelling based on it would be the craziest, wildest thing. And I'd be all for it!

[x]

Wow, a soap opera is right! That is a tangled web.

I would love to watch an epic series focused on this family, going with the most incestuous interpretations possible, of course.

[grimmmviewing]

S1E8: “Game Ogre”—B/C+ (Watched 2/29/24)

“No record of where he was born, no record of a family. It’s like this guy just fell out of the sky.” – Hank re. an ogre/giant (Got a, not exactly unhappy, groan from me!)

“Just the facts, right?” – Monroe to Nick/Hank re. the ownership of an important watch (Bonus points for Dragnet reference?)

Exactly how much silliness I find charming and at what point the goofiness should result in some sort of deduction for review purposes are questions I find myself thinking about a lot while watching Grimm. Even the episodes I’ve scored as “A”s have their Moments. And if I had to sum up my feelings about “Game Ogre” I would say that it starts as a fine enough monster of the week story but then, perhaps fittingly for an episode that prominently features a watch early on, it accumulates enough “complications” that it becomes genuinely interesting or noteworthy.

First—the central role of Oleg Stark, an ogre. I did love the very physical performance, which has a lot of stiff-bodied stomping around and grunting and growling. It had to have been fun to try to play that role and to try to make yourself seem as big, burly, and dense (in more than one sense) as possible. The way the camera frames this big boy and the way that shots of him getting physical are filmed and edited to make him feel as large and powerful as possible is just very entertaining. Definitely goofy, but also definitely fun in a C+ sort of way.

Another entertaining C-sort of goofy detail is how the initial murder victim is a judge, and we know that because he’s just got a gavel sitting out on his desk at home. It’s used in his murder to help suggest that the crime was personal, of course, but the placement is still such a ridiculous way to communicate the man’s profession, especially when you consider that we’re also explicitly told he’s a state judge when Sergeant Wu and his partner are investigating the scene of the break-in.

There are some similarly unnecessary-feeling, awkward quick flashbacks in the mix—back to Nick being brutalized by the ogre in his house and to the ogre-killing poison and gun in his trailer. Of course, one way of looking at these is as part of the TV series package: Commercials are a thing, and people come in late. You have to catch up the late-comers and maybe re-establish a sense of drama and of the critical details for folks after the ads. This is one of those things I struggle to identify as a positive or a negative in my subjective assessment since Grimm being so obviously What It Is is absolutely part of the charm and was part of what I wanted out of this whole experience.

And there are a couple of plot oddities here, too, like just how long it takes for someone (Wu) to put together the idea of using Hank as bait for the vengeance-seeking Oleg. Captain Renard going along with Hank to a suspect’s place probably shouldn’t feel weird, but it does since, as far as I remember, this is new behavior for him.

It’s the mounting “complications” that ultimately elevate the episode, though, because of their novelty. Actually seeing Nick kind of shaken and vulnerable after he’s hospitalized from Oleg’s attack offers a new emotional angle from which to view him. He hasn’t been this badly beaten by a Wesen before. Hank similarly gets pushed emotionally in this episode, and the exact nature of the strain on him ends up being a nice twist, with how he and the DA colluded to “lose” evidence that might have gotten reasonable doubt for Oleg at his trial years ago.

The trust that Nick places in Monroe, a Wesen, by revealing the trailer to him is very much understated and great for it. The fact that Monroe ends up being the one who has to put Oleg down is also a cool, interesting wrinkle. The focus on the .600 caliber “elephant gun” bullets that are over 100 years old in the final scene with Renard and Hank is just a delightful little bit of quirkiness and suspense. That the weapons from the trailer are actually deployed here is something I was glad to see. It certainly makes sense for Nick to use his service weapon rather than swinging around a sword or flail or something, but that armory has been essentially teased up to this point, and it was just good to see some of it put to use.

[logicalarachnid]

I have an idea for a potential new Parksborn/Dark Irondad fic, and it has A/B/O in it, but non traditional, sort of. I need help deciding Harry's status.

Anyway, I have this idea, and I don't wanna say too much about it plotwise yet, however the dynamic of Peter and Harry is relatively important for their relationship. So I'll talk a bit about that, there is a poll at the end. I'd appreciate at least having ppl let me know which of the a/b/o options/concepts for Harry Osborn they'd prefer reading about.

Peter's dynamic is set in stone. He is an omega, but he is an oddity, there hasn't been an omega like him before. He doesn't experience the 'head empty only smutty time' mindset that omegas typically have. Instead, it's like he gets a period, but it's just slick and he experiences little to no excitement. He does however display great strength like a typical alpha and his emotions can spiral if he isn't careful. He does display some typical omega traits like wanting frequent affection from his parents (his alpha dads Steve & Bucky), and being comfortable and even pleased at times with their protective and doting attitudes towards him.

I won't talk about that further, I'll leave it for when I get around to uploading the fic on ao3. I'll post a link to it on my blog when I do. For anyone interested it will be dark irondad vaguely inspired by Prodigal Son. I haven't seen it, as it isn't available on any streaming platforms I have, but I've looked into the dynamic Martin and Malcolm have, that is what got me interested in the first place. I found it through a post on here actually, I'll be tagging/linking them for the inspo when I get round to posting about the fic.

So, this is where I was hoping for some input. It is a parksborn fic and I like having Harry being a simp for Peter. What I'm struggling with is deciding what his dynamic is going to be because I am leaning towards them having an 'untraditional' relationship as far as a/b/o worlds go.

To help give a better picture of their relationship, at least regarding Peter, while he is an omega he is by no means 'biologically normal' by the standard of society. It isn't a bad thing, just 'weird' and 'baffling' to them, meanwhile Peter is not bothered by it, instead, he welcomes it. He would be kind and tender hearted as he usually is, which fits the sterotypical omega list of traits, but he will be prone to experiencing some mood swings (these won't always be obvious). He experiences his emotions strongly and a bit erratically. He views them critically and analytically this is primarily because of his job and a habit of repressing himself. Some alphas might feel intimidated by his differences (bcs insecure men always are), and some alphas might think by some of his behaviours and mannerisms that he is an alpha.

The thing about Peter though is that he is will be deceptive in apperence. He would seem warm and welcoming, he dresses up a bit (not much though), he probably does skin care and looks after himself, and he keeps his hair long (I can imagine Tom's wavyish curls, are they called curls, if not what should I call the texture?). However, despite his inviting appearence it can actually be a weapon of sorts to manipulate those around him. Peter isn't bad in this fic, to him he is just trying to survive in a world where omegas are few, fetishied, occationally mistreated, and underestimated. So, what is an omega like him to do when he seemingly has an advantage? He uses it. So, he subtly manipulates everyone he comes in contact with if he deems it necessary, behaving in a way that is authentic to himself but appeals to the outsiders view of a 'good' omega. He doesn't want to be restricted or limited by others, so for him what he does is helping him survive in a world that isn't made for him to succeed. But I can see how it might come across that he could be morally grey and maybe he is...a little..deep deep down.

He can use his pheremones/scent more effectively too, it is kind of like a dr*g he can cast in the air to calm people to the point it manipulates their perception of what is going on. So, angry alphas in the room? Peter puts out a calming scent or one of hurt and sadness that is strong enough to have those alphas become distracted and decide to comfort him instead of arguing. They might even forget why they were fighting or suddenly dismiss the importance the conversation might have held. I imagine that he would have practised this a lot with Stucky, haha. Basically Peter is kinda 'biologically' enhanced in some aspects. With Harry in the picture, Peter would be analysing him, thinking over the best way to navigate him, and uh, yeah, act accordingly. Harry would prefer Peter at his most authentic, that is the whole reason he gets so attracted to him in the first place. He likes how Peter is, no masking, no manipulations, no pretending, just Peter as his lovable, chaotic, maybe mentally ill self. Now that is love.

No matter what Harry will be, he will be facinated by how different Peter is and is attracted to his more authorative-ish (?) nature. I'm not saying they'd be in a dom/sub kind of thing. They're both kind of different, or at least Peter wakes up something kinda feral in him that is like "yeah, this one, this is my man, and I'm gonna stand beside him". Harry will have an obssesion with Peter. Maybe he got addicted to Peter's scent, or maybe he was exposed to too high of a dose in a short time, or maybe they're fated mates like Harry will believe they are. He'll just need to convince and 'prove' to Peter that they are, which will be something, ha. When they do get together though they'll be cute and kinda weird, but its fine bcs they're them yk.

That was long winded, but I wanted some context for how Harry was gonna be paried up with Peter and what Peter will be like. I'm struggling to decide which of the options in the poll I prefer more.

So which would be more appealing?

[tabletofruination]

Expedition Log: Casseroya Lake Day One (pt. 2)

[pt. 1, pt. 2 (you are here)]

((cw: mild body horror description, trypophobia adjacent?? no pictures but being trypophobic myself, i am keeping the description minimal. but it is there.))

"--And there we go! Thanks for helping me get set up again, Green. Couldn't have done it without you!"

"Please. Don't flatter me when all I did was make sure that your recording didn't get frozen."

When the camera comes back on again, and the sunlight seems to filter only mildly through the trees as the night seems to draw near. Juliana's voice still has a rasp to it, weirdly, but...it's probably fine.

"But hi everyone! As you can see the sun's going down, but we've finally made it to the other part of the lake--say hello to Socarrat Trail! Isn't this place just gorgeous?!"

"Indeed, it is." Green speaks up easily, and though there's still that strange oddity to their voice, there is a warmth that one can pick up on. "A trail that seems to be in an eternal autumn, as if cradled by the snow of the mountain and the relative humidity and warmth of the sea...truly, a lovely place."

Juliana seems to laugh a bit at that, though it doesn't seem to be rude despite the almost bristled reply it gets from Green. "What are you tittering at, child--"

"No, no! I'm not laughing at you, I promise." Juliana's tone maintains it's brightness, and she seems to smile gently at the camera as it seems to be plucked off of it's Rotostick. "It's just...you really do get enthusiastic about stuff like this, and it's nice to see. That's what I think! You've always appreciated nature's beauty, huh?"

"...Hmph." Green doesn't seem entirely convinced, but they at least let it go. "But yes. I suppose you are correct."

"See? And there's nothing wrong with that! This place is beautiful no matter the time of day, and it just seems like the perfect place to lie down and take a nap..." Juliana seems to stretch her limbs a bit as she works on getting her Rotostick back into her bag, as Green assumedly holds the phone. Green does, however, respond with a small tut.

"Let's not get carried away, Miss Juliana. We still have research to do, and we should make haste. The energy I sense...it's stronger, here. I believe we're on the right track."

"Oh, yeah?!" Juliana's eyes seem to light up, the night finally taking hold as they start to walk down the trail. "Well, come on! What are we doing lollygagging?!"

"I should be asking you that..."

Green seems to sigh as the two of them walk down the path, Green seeming to pan out to the areas surrounding them, Juliana seeming to talk as they do.

"--And it's just so lush in this area in particular, it's almost like it was made for the Pokemon here! I mean, you can't go, like, five steps without seeing some kind of bug type--be it the Heracross around here, the Forretress on the water and in the trees..."

"Mmm. It's practically a paradise for them. I can certainly see why they and the grass types of this area seem to coexist in harmony."

"Oh, that's right! They pretty much like, never go after each other too, right?" Juliana turns around as the camera focuses back on her, and Green seems to make a small confirming noise.

"Indeed, at least from what we have seen. Why would they? This place has all of the sap every bug type could want, and enough nutrients for grass types to be at ease. Even the Sudowoodo are able to be nourished...it is as if nature is in perfect harmo..."

The two seem to pause as Green's camera focuses on something in a relative distance, Green walking ahead as it does. A bright green glow comes into view as they walk down a small offshoot trail, and...

"Woah...Green, is this what you were feeli--"

Juliana's words cut off suddenly, and Green seems to pause for a moment, before seeming to focus the camera on the Spidops for a mere moment--the Pokemon's eyes seem to widen for a moment as something happens, the camera's focus seeming to miss it, and when words are spoken again, something feels...weird.

Very, very weird and deeply off, as something speaks up, but it doesn't feel like a human voice.

"Stand aside."

The Spidops seems to flee at the utterance of those words, and in an instant, all is normal as the two of them walk forward again.

"...This is what I was feeling, for the record." Green speaks up again, clearing their throat seemingly again.

"What is the energy coming off of this...it feels so weird, it's..."

"Place your hand upon it."

"On...this thing? Are you sure?"

"Yes. It won't harm you, I promise. Take off your glove and touch it."

Juliana's hand comes into view as she pauses a bit. Seemingly hesitant and her hand still gloved for a moment before it goes out of view, and when it comes back in...

The camera doesn't focus on it for long, but one can make out an odd...green-ness to her hand. Green and gray, and almost inhuman feeling, with a faint look at what one might be able to see as an almost plant-like something--

"...It feels...verdant. Like all of nature has come together to put it's energy into this. Do you feel it too, Green?"

"Indeed, I do. And I can feel an earthiness behind it as well...this seal is man-made, but seems to be pure, harnessed nature. Made as a wall, of sorts, to keep something within."

Juliana seems to pause a bit, her tone going uncertain.

"...Whatever's behind here, it's...it must be hurting then, right?"

Green seems to pause a bit, as if considering. "...I cannot say I know for sure. But I cannot deny the possibility that whatever is behind here could very well be suffering."

"...I see."

There's a soft sympathy in Juliana's tone as she considers that, pausing a bit before Green speaks up.

"We should turn in for the night. Let us end this off here."

[honeyhhearted]

Hold My Hand - Chapter 4

Previous Chapter / Start from the beginning

Read on AO3

Warnings: Arguing/Fighting

A/N: THANK YOU for holding tight while i've been drafting. i am so sorry it's taking me so long between chapters, i work full time and have severe ADHD, so i find myself so burned out so quickly. i'm working on it :)

Fic summary: When a young village girl begins to exhibit magic she should not wield, the Firm takes her in as one of their own, to be trained and raised as Princess of Asgard. (Or the one where Loki meets his match and falls head over heels (and is embarrassed about it).)

Chapter summary: You have an unfortunate run in with your new betrothed...and it doesn't go well, to say the least.

Word was sent to your parents of your new arrangement as Thor led you to your chambers. The silence was suffocating as your mind ran a mile a minute.

How would this arrangement work? Did Prince Loki know? Was this his doing? Why would they set you up with the Prince, rather than punishing you? Your stomach swirled. What would your life be like with him? Would he be cruel? Would he take pity on you?

“My lady,” Thor began, his voice filled with discomfort. He came to a stop in the center of the hall and turned to you. “I apologize that this has been sprung on you.” You cleared your throat, head beginning to pound as you shoved back the tears you wanted nothing more than to let fall. You wrung your hands as you looked up at him. “Thank you, your Highness…I am just overwhelmed. Does Prince Loki know?”

His eyes dropped. “I do not know.”

Your chest tightened. The Prince was not told about his arranged marriage. And I am here to bear the brunt of his inevitable anger.

“If I may ask, my Prince–” You started. Thor raised a hand. “Please. You will be my sister soon, no matter the situation. Call me Thor.”

You nodded, appreciating that Thor seemed to be genuine and kind. “If I may ask, Thor, do you believe Prince Loki will be angry?” Thor’s face was grim. “I am unsure, but…” His face twisted into a grimace. “I believe so. But if he is a good man at all, he will not blame you.” You hoped so. Thor walked you the rest of the way to your rooms in silence, though slightly more comfortable than before. - Your chambers were amazing. The floors were marble, with gold detailing and fixtures. A large, plush bed with a light pink canopy sat against a floor length mirror facing the cities and gardens below. You observed the other furnishings in awe as you stepped into the room. An attached bathroom held a bathtub the size of a pool. You were overwhelmed as you took it all in. Yesterday, you’d woken up as a poor girl in the outskirts of the village; a family shunned for your oddities. You could never have believed that in less than twenty-four hours, you would be a ward of the Royal Family, arranged to marry their youngest son. Though your fate as the wife of the cruel son was unbearable, you knew that this was the better path for your life to take. The Norns would not have sent you here if you were destined to suffer in this place. There must be some reason your life so drastically changed. You spent the remaining time in your afternoon outside. Thor had left you with the knowledge of how to get to the gardens if you wanted to explore the palace grounds, so you’d figured it best to familiarize yourself with the layout of the wing you resided in and its surrounding area. Your walk was peacefully quiet, the occasional member of the housekeeping staff passing by you and nodding politely. You would adjust to having staff cater to you, but it was surreal to be treated like you were anything but the village pariah. When you reached the gardens, you drank in the view. Rows of ornamental shrubs and flower arrangements, gardeners tending to the plants all over. You walked through slowly, enjoying the soft fragrances carried by the breeze. Deciding you needed a moment to take in your new surroundings, you followed a path deeper into the garden, leading to a secluded area with a small bench for you to rest on. You sat, sighing. Looking out past the greenery, you drank in the kingdom of Asgard in its entirety. The view of the village, the city line, people moving about their daily lives as small as ants from where you sat. It almost made you feel smaller, to realize that you had always just been part of an almost anonymous whole. To see everyone now, small specks in your view, set your new path in perspective. How many times did the King and Queen sit in these gardens, looking down at their subjects? How often did any member of the royal family enjoy watching the village like children staring at farm animals through slats in the fences? You heard a snap sound from behind you. Whirling around on the bench, you met a pair of green eyes looking sharply down at you. “You are the one my parents have decided I will settle down for?” His voice was sharp, dripping with venom. “How pathetic.” You stood quickly, running your clammy hands down the front of your skirt. “Prince Loki. My name is-” “I do not care for your name. Do not assume I care for you at all, girl. You are merely a pawn in my father’s games, and I refuse to play along this time. I merely wanted to get a look at you, and I see now that there is not much to see.” His eyes roam over you with disinterest. Your cheeks heated as your heart pounded in your chest. You felt a stinging behind your eyes and tried to blink away the beginning of tears before he could notice. “I apologize, your Highness, but I have as little choice in the matter as you do. The Allfather-” “The Allfather does not speak for me. And I will see to it that this is rectified immediately.” With that, Loki turned and stalked out of the garden. You pressed a shaking hand to your chest, exhaling slowly. You felt your heart thumping under your chest as you were filled with a sharp sense of unease. You had known that the Prince had a temper, and could be downright unpleasant, but the way his eyes had roamed over your body like you were nothing cut through you. When he was finally gone, you allowed yourself the moment to cry, hot tears spilling over your cheeks. This life is not the one you wanted for yourself. Of course, you were not stupid. You knew this would be difficult. You knew your life was never meant to be a happy one, being born with a curse such as yours. But you never could have imagined that being brought into the palace, something that every other Asgardian would view as a blessing, would be something so miserable. You decided to walk back to your chamber, eyes puffy and red. You just wanted the day to be over, to have a reprieve from the awful day you have had thus far. Of course, you have never been one to experience good luck, and you walked straight into Thor on your return. You slammed into each other, knocking you off balance. He reached for you, straightening you before you could fall. You see him scan you for injury, landing on your puffy face. “What happened, my lady?” He asked, voice full of concern. His gentleness in contrast to the abrasive cruelty of his brother spurred on another round of tears, and you let out a sob. He hushed you, guiding you into another room and seating you at a small bench. When you are able to calm down, you recount the conversation you’d had with Loki in the gardens. You watched as Thor’s face turned from surprise to disappointment and anger as his brother’s behavior. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to speak poorly of him,” You started, hiccuping. “But I do not understand what I’ve done wrong.” He shook his head. “You have done nothing wrong. My brother’s words are meant to hurt. He knows destruction and how to bring it, and he lashed out at you. You did not deserve that. I will not speak to him about this, my lady. But I must inform my parents of his behavior.” You nodded, sniffling again. “Thank you, Thor. I appreciate your comfort and understanding.” “You do not need to thank me. It is only the right thing to do.” Thor guided you back to your chamber as he made small talk about the palace grounds. You told him of your visit into the gardens before your confrontation with Loki, and how beautiful you found it. He seemed pleased. In your room, exhausted, you decided it would be for the best to lay down. Despite the fact that the sun had not yet set, you could not imagine being forced to face the rest of the day.

-

You woke in the morning to the sun illuminating the room. For a moment, you could almost hear your father’s humming, or your mother’s soft rustling as she moved about the house trying not to wake you. Then your surroundings settled on you, and you sighed as you blinked up at the ceiling with watery eyes. A soft knock at the door persuaded you out of bed. You stretched, standing and feeling the cool tile beneath your feet. You padded to the door, opening it tentatively to see a small girl who looked to be part of the palace staff. She gave you a small smile, curtsying. “Good morning, my lady. Are you well?” She asked. “Y-Yes, I am,” You say, awkwardly. She seemed to sense your discomfort. “My name is Camille. I am tasked to be your lady-in-waiting.” She shifted on her feet, wringing her hands. Your stomach turned. You didn’t want to make the poor girl uncomfortable, but the idea of having someone assigned to cater to you felt wrong. You sighed quietly, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry. I was unaware,” You said, trying your best to look reassuring. “Please, come in.” She gave you a small, hesitant smile, entering the room. She walked toward a door to the left, opening it wide and stepping in. Inside was a large wardrobe room. As you followed her, your jaw dropped at the sheer size of it. The room was the size of your family home, full of casual dresses and gowns, shoes, and accessories you could never have even dreamed of owning before. “While you were away yesterday, Her Majesty had us stock your wardrobe. The size is approximated, as you seem to be similar to Her Majesty in stature, but if anything does not suit you, please let us know.” She explained, motioning to the hanging dresses. “I will go over with you the dress occasions, but you will never have to worry. When it is time for a particular event that requires dress assistance, I and my co-lady, Lille, will be here with you.” Your head spun. Still taking in the room, her words only served to overwhelm you. You knew nothing about how to dress as a member of Asgard’s high society. What if you made a fool of yourself, or worse, embarrassed the Royal Family at an important engagement? Camille seemed to sense your nerves. She rested a gentle hand on your forearm. “I know it’s a lot to take in, my lady. But I promise, we are here to help you.” You nodded, swallowing hard. “Thank you,” You croaked. “I’m sorry. I just…I am not yet used to this.” She smiled at you. “I understand. If I may, my lady, can I familiarize you with your options? Please stop me if you have any questions.”

-

After what felt like an eternity, reviewing corseted versus non-corseted gowns, day dresses, evening gowns, riding gear, shoes…your head felt tight. Camille was extremely helpful, answering all of the questions you had. But still, it felt like so much to take in. With her assistance, you had chosen a simple day dress, pale yellow and simple. She directed you to the main hall, where meals were held, for breakfast. You ran into Thor at the entrance to the hall, and relief filled you. You weren’t looking forward to entering the hall alone. His face brightened. “Good morning! I trust you slept well?” His voice boomed. You smiled back at him. “Good morning, Thor. I did, thank you.” He nodded, pleased. Offering you his arm, he turned toward the door. “Shall we head inside?” You took his arm gratefully. “We shall.”

-

Breakfast was…awkward. Odin sat at the head of the table, his face stern. Frigga, to his right, and Thor, to his left, looked at the empty chair beside Thor in exasperation. You sat beside the Queen, fiddling with your hands beneath the table. All of your plates remained untouched. Loki was late. Again, if their exasperation could be interpreted properly. Odin sighed, a low rumbling sound. “The boy does not show respect in even the most mundane of moments. It is a wonder he even fulfills his general duties at all.” Frigga shook her head. “He will show. A lack of faith in him only serves to push his behavior further.” “You think this is a result of lack of faith? This is insolence at its finest, a show of disrespect toward the very simple rules we ask him to follow. Thor has no issue with them, yet the boy persists in defying me.” Odin’s voice hardened. “Please, dear,” Frigga said, “Do not pit your sons against each other in that way. Loki will show.” As if on cue, the doors swung open, echoing to the table. Loki, with a smug smile curling his lips, strode to the table. He sat beside Thor, staring at Odin defiantly. “Good morning, everyone,” He spoke smoothly, beginning to gather food on his plate. He ate slowly, tearing a piece of toast and slathering it with jam before looking around the table. “Oh,” He started mockingly, “you all didn’t have to wait for me.” Odin’s neck strained, his brow furrowed. “You disrespect the palace staff, you disrespect your post, you disrespect your family. Is there nothing that you are willing to do? Do you even think to behave yourself?” You sat silently, looking firmly down at your hands. You didn’t want to be involved in this conflict, and you feared if he noticed you, really noticed you, he would do it by force. You didn’t understand why Loki’s tardiness was so important, but you were not going to question it. Loki sneered. “My apologies, Father. But perhaps I have better things to do than posture as the obedient son. I stand in for mischief, after all.” Odin’s voice tightened. “It should not be posturing. You are a Prince, and you need to start acting like one.” “Or what?” Loki challenged. “Loki, please,” Frigga started, her voice pleading, but Odin’s voice filled the room. His fist slammed on the table, rattling the dishware. You flinched, looking up. “I will not tolerate your disrespect any longer, Loki! You are not here for-” “Odin!” Frigga exclaimed over him. “Do not continue this here. Please.” Loki’s face was frozen, contemplative. “What am I here for, Father? I am an heir to the throne of Asgard. I will fulfill my duties as needed, but I will not be your pawn.” His eyes flicked to you, and you felt your heart seize. “Particularly in terms of the joke of a marriage you are trying to impose on me.” Frigga placed a soft hand on your upper arm. “Loki…we were told of your behavior and, ahem,” She cleared her throat delicately, “opinions of this arrangement.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course, the golden boy came running to Mother and Father, didn’t he, after the pathetic thing told her woes?” Thor tensed. “Brother. Your cruelty is needless. Your ire at me is allowable, but not toward her.” “You defend this wretched woman, support her weaseling her way into our family? I am not surprised by your nobility, brother, you have always wanted to be the knight to every weak maiden you encounter. But you, father, I am surprised at.” He bared his teeth. “I mean really, to think that this woman,” He spat at you, and you could hear your own heart pounding, “is doing nothing more than plotting her way into a Prince’s bed is pointless. I’m sure her family will be pleased to have a Princess for a daughter, no less-” “That is enough.” Your own voice shocked you, hard and unwavering. “How dare you speak of my family. You know nothing, you arrogant, spiteful, disrespectful man. My family is cursed because of me. Because of my ability. It is a curse, and you will not sit here and spit on them and spit on the sacrifices they made for me.” You blinked away traitorous tears, pulling in a shuddering breath as your anger consumed you. “You have disrespected me, you made me feel like I was nothing but a speck beneath your shoe, and I can take that. I am not unfamiliar with men who believe themselves to be wolves when really they are small and pathetic and insecure in themselves. But do not disrespect my family.” The table was silent for a moment. Thor looked at you in shock at your outburst, Odin’s face arranged in a similar way. Frigga beside you kept her face composed, but you noticed a slight tick in her cheek. You glared at Loki, your ragged, angry breathing filling the room, before he smirked at you, raising an eyebrow. “She has claws, I see.” He spoke. “Glad to know you at least will have a backbone.” With that, Loki stood, the sound of his chair scraping on the floor echoing on the walls. “I will take my leave.” You let out all of the air in your lungs as soon as the door slammed shut behind him.

[anyadarlingsdomain]

Part 2 of the AU. So the party is starting to have further individuals appear from Sephora’s timeline and they don’t entirely understand why or have control over it- as far as they know.

Part One

Sephora sighed in defeat.

Anakin and some of his men came into view.

“So..she’s your sister?” He questioned, giving her sister a uncertain yet interested gaze.

Cass saluted. “The names Cass, pleasure to meet you General Skywalker.”

Anakin looked skeptical.

“She seems more causal than you.” He noticed.

“She can be.” She admitted. “And yes she is my little sister.”

“So” Anakin said crossing his arms. “What’s your story?”

“Heh, my sister’s backstory is probably a lot more interesting than mine.” She admitted throwing a ball and catching it. “Believe me.”

“You’re force sensitive too?” He asked seemingly noticing it.

“Probably not as much as Clone supporter here.” She stated taking a bite of an apple.

The clones raised an eyebrow to the address.

“‘Clone Supporter?’” Anakin questioned.

“You know Clone General..I’m sure you’ve heard the story by now..or so I’m assuming.”

“We’ll yeah she mentioned it..but not like that.”

“I just have weird terminology don’t take it so personally.”

Anakin looked to be trying to hide a smirk on his face.

“You’re funny.”

“Glad you think so.”

Some of his men coughed.

“She‘s an interesting one.” Anakin admitted.

Sephora laughed. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Why is he so tall?? Where did he get so tall?” She questioned our loud pointing a fork at him. “Where is the oddities to all of this??”

“Heck he looks taller then Seb.”

“He is.” Sephora confirmed.

“Poor dude..”

“Isn’t that your Commander?” Fives asked.

“Yeah that’s her Commander. Marshall Commander he’s pretty neat.” Cass admitted.

They all smirked to her talk.

“You’re a lot different from your sister aren't you?” He asked her.

“Just telling now?” She questioned smirking at him.

Some of them chuckled.

Anakin looked bemused. “A little..”

“Something you needed?” Sephora asked him.

“Just more questions..” he said kind of awkwardly.

“I kind of figured..nothing I need to worry about?”

“Not that I know of..unless you have something to tell me?” Anakin opened.

Sephora thought about it. “Nothing comes to mind at the moment..but if something does I’ll be sure to tell you.”

“Work with Commandos?” Cass suddenly asked him.

“Sometimes..why?” He looked a little skeptically at her.

Cass just shrugged. “No reason.” In fake innocence, smirking a little at the end.

Anakin gave her a skeptical look.

“So how old are you?” Ahsoka suddenly asked her.

Cass shrugged. “25 why do you ask?” She said winking at her.

Ahsoka shrugged. “Just curious how different you two are.”

Anakin smirked. “Now I got an idea..”

Sephora gave him a warning glance. “Don’t push your luck.” She warned.

The men in there chuckled.

“Why are you so against saying how old you are?”

“Because she doesn’t want to.” Cass butted. “You really are an ass aren’t you?” She questioned of him walking beside him- eyeing him up then easily forgetting about him and walked past him.

“Just want to say I think you’re hot and to keep slaying.” Cass said to Jesse.

Everyone seemed shocked by the comment. Cody just smirked.

“Umm..thank you..” Jesse said still not entirely sure how he should respond to that. Fives just looked amused by the exchange.

Anakin pointed at her sister. “That’s your sister?” He clarified.

Sephora face palmed.

“Little sister yes. Trouble maker compared to her? Yes. Will I end your life if you hurt her double, triple yes.” Cass said giving him a stealy glance.

Snickers could be heard behind them.

“Don’t try anything funny sly man I’m watching you.” She said deliberately, pointing at his eyes.

Anakin really didn’t know what to think of her.

“I think she’s neat.” Ahsoka admitted smiling at the pink Mando. “I like your armor.”

“Thanks kid.” Cass sweetly said patting her on the head- Ahsoka didn’t seem to mind though.

“- You would..” Cass glowered at him.

“She’s your polar opposite isn’t she?” Anakin asked carefully watching the pink clad Mando.

“You could say that yes.” Sephora admitted as Cass came to perch on the table alongside her again.

“So what’s going on?” Star announced coming up by them and leaning on the table similar to Cass eating a pastry. “God I haven’t had one of these in years…” obviously enjoying the treat. “It’s so good.”

The clones just looked amused to his announcement.

“Introductions, formalities you know the drill.” Cass answered.

“Oh yeah..the fun stuff. Do you like her? She’s pretty neat when she isn’t being a brat.” He stated.

Cass shoved him in the arm.

The clones looked amused to the spectacle and were trying DESPERATELY to keep their cool.

“Kriffing knock off..”

“-like that.” He expressed not even phased by her aggressive shove but simply went back and leaned against his part of the table.

Sephora gave him a pointed look. “Behave.” She warned.

Cass just looked disgruntled where she was.

“Who? Me or her?” Star questioned.

Cass scoffed. “Obviously you you snot.” She said hitting him again.

“Both of you.” Sephora reprimanded. Cass just rolled her eyes.

“No need to get nasty about it.” Star snided rolling his eyes. He retraced back from her hitting. “And quit hitting me- it’s hostile.”

Cass made an unintelligible noise. “‘Hostile.?’ You’re such a baby.” She antagonized. “You’re so irritating.” She muttered looking ahead.

Everyone looked mildly amused to the whole ordeal.

“I take it that this is fairly normal?” Anakin asked her.

“Fairly.” Sephora admitted, giving her duo an disappointed look.

Cass just looked bristled by Star compared to him being completely chill and eating his biscuit besides her.

“Well all the same to you. It’s nice seeing you all again.” He toasted to them. “Nice seeing younger faces of me.” He stated with a laugh.

Cass face palmed this time. “Gods..you're so cringe.” She said exasperatedly.

“What you got anything better to say back??” He challenged her.

“Enough, the both of you.” Sephora returned before she could. “We’re in a group here.”

Cass sighed through her nose.

“I don’t know, I'm kind of enjoying this.” Anakin admitted.

“Don’t influence them..” Sephora pleaded.

Star let out a laugh. “Yeah we could go -round and round.” He stated with a snicker.

This time Sephora threw her cape into his face. Some of the clones winced.

Starkiller placated her. “Okay, okay I’ll stop.” He said with a humorous chuckle.

“Moron..” Cass said under her breath. Star gave her a look.

“I don’t know…I kind of like them.” Anakin admitted.

“I’m glad you do..so what’s on your mind?” Sephora asked trying NOT to cause to much attention..yet it seemed that was all but futile now..

“Well I was speaking to Obi-wan about all of this and of course he spoke to the Council about it. We were kind of curious if there’s anything more you can tell us..like anyone else involved in this movement so to speak- if you know.”

Sephora sighed. “The problem is Ani..there’s no guarantees. Yes there are many similarities but I still can’t 100% say if who or what is going to happen here..yet something in me feels it may..” she said her tone foreboding at the end.

“So is there anyone you know?” He he questioned her. The room grew quiet.

Starkiller coughed, giving his General an uncertain gaze. Everyone watched this gesture interestedly.

Sephora sighed again. “It’s complicated…” she admitted.

Anakin crossed his arms. “Well I’m open ears.”

Cass gave her a worried look. “You’re not going to tell him- are you?” she whispered to her.

“‘Tell me what?’”Anakin asked skeptically giving them both suspicious looks.

The three looked to him uncertainty it was obvious they were uncomfortable if not wary.

“Anakin you must realize I come from a different time..where I exist and others that appently don’t exist here..it doesn’t mean the same will happen here.”

“Then why are you so hesitant to tell me?” He questions of her feeling the gravity of the situation. “Is it something I did? Someone in this room? Is that why you’re so reluctant to tell me??”

Sephora sighed rubbing her temples. But before she could reply to him someone walked in.

“Sir…we found this..clone wandering the grounds. He refuses to say his designation and won’t talk besides to General Norien- or another General.”

Everyone turned towards them then.

Sephora’s eyes widened, she jumped off her seat. “Seb!”

All the clones seemed shocked by this exclamation.

“That’s her Commander?”

“Hey- are you okay?” She asked him looking it him curiously.

Seb looked like he was gauging the situation looking around. “Depends on what this is about.” He admitted, he looked on the defensive.

“He’s fine. He’s my Commander.” She exhorted it the troopers holding him down. “You can release him.”

“Doyle, Comet do as she says.” Anakin stated. “He’s a Marshall COmMaDeR too.” He added.

They readily agreed after his word. It seemed they were shocked exchanging glances.

“Well...it seems you keep getting more of your people..” Anakin stated. “Maybe you’ll get more of your troopers soon.”

Sephora winced to that statement.

“So what. is. this. about?” Seb pressed glancing to them all having a steely look to him. Some of the troopers seemed a little taken aback by his severity.

“Somehow our realities seemed to mix.” Sephora stated. “Some of us as you can see have ended here- in a past that is very similar to ours- yet not the same. As far I as I know- we- you, our men do not exist here. 614th doesn’t exist as far as I know..yet everything else- seems to be vastly the same.”

Seb thought this over a moment. “So what does that mean?”

“I’m not entirely sure..but perhaps we can help this reality before..worse things happen.”

“About that.” Anakin cut in. “What were you going to tell me earlier?”

Sephora looked to him. “If I tell you..what happened..you won’t like what you hear.”

“I don't care. If it means it helps us here and the future I want to know.” He pressed. He looked a bit hostile.

“It doesn’t mean it will happen-“

“Stop diverting it.” Anakin snapped.

“General.” Rex reprimanded giving him a worried look.

“Anakin-“ sensing something she automatically seized up giving him a warning gaze. “Don’t. do. that.” She snapped.

Everyone seemed confused.

“Do what?” Ahsoka asked. “What did you do Master?”

“It’s nothing.” He said shaking his head looking a little guilty of what he just did.

“There are some things..that are not meant to be known.” She stated but almost made it sound like a warning.

“It's something I did isn’t it?” He questioned of her finally looking up. “Why else would you be hiding it from me so much..unless it’s someone I really care about?”

Sephora held her ground. “Don’t make this difficult.”

“You’re doing that yourself!” He scorned.

At this Seb shielded his General a little.

“Yeah it’s getting obvious now..” he said studying the party in front of him that seemed ither worried, in fear or defensive of his person atm.

“General..let’s just calm down.” Cody intervened stepping in between them giving Seb a bit of a wary look.

[jhara-ivez]

Impressions of Praha #2

This part will cover mostly Praha Castle and the Charles Bridge. And lots of windows. I have to say first that I am... slightly spoiled when it comes to monumental buildings. Therefore please pardon me when my judgement of what I saw in Praha is maybe a bit underwhelming. Anyway, let's start. This is Charles Bridge leading to Praha Castle. It was build in 14th Century by... King Charles of Luxembourg.

There are some streetvendors obviously but they only sell the typical stuff, like painting or caricatures and little bracelets and stuff. Nothing too fancy but tourist seems to like it for some reason. More important is this dude below. You might have seen him in tumblr posts already :D A good golden boi. (yes, of course I touched him too for good luck)

When you cross the bridge you have to walk through 2 big towers. The gothic one is dating back to 12th century and is therefore older than the bridge itself. The other one is the youngest part of the bridge, built in 1454 and made from sandstone.

Then, of course, you have to climb another hill. Once you managed and didnt die of pain in your feet you will reach Praha Castle. With an awesome view over the city. In the back there you can even see the "dancing houses", which I didnt visit up close.

If you buy the tickets for Praha Castle.. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES follow the mass of tourists. There are 2 building in which you can buy tickets. For some reasons the whole mass of people will walk to the right one, completely overlooking the left. Meaning you have hundreds of people waiting in line on the right, while the left one is.... walk in, pay, go outside. I suppose the other tourists were too floored by what greets you once you step inside the castle grounds.

This is St. Vitus Cathedral. For me not that impressing from the outside and inside (as I said I am spoiled by other cities). HOWEVER. .....

..... THE WINDOWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hell, I fell in love with the WINDOWS!!!! Look at this!!!!!! There is even one by Mucha himself!

The windows come in many different styles too. I think I spend more time ogling the windows than anything else. Admittedly, cathedrals do mostly look the same if not for some location based oddities. So please excuse me for not taking pictures of the... uh... ordinary stuff. Which is still expensive and what not, but not feel like striking features for me. Oh and.... I'd like to present my archenemy.

As you can see Praha Castle does not use one, not two, but more or less eight (!) different kinds of pavement. Needless to say - I suffered. And I suffered some more. Because you can visit the other buildings as well. Starting with Vladislaw Hall. Although quite interesting when it comes to how it is build - the kind of ceiling is self-stabilizing, meaning you don't need additional pillars to keep it from falling, also you have one entrance where you could ride inside on a horse if you came for a tournament as a knight - I nearly had a meltdown when I saw the rest.

That line of waiting tourists.... is not all. I was waiting in that line when I took the photo. What are they all waiting for? A window. More or less empty rooms with one important window. The window where the Prague Defenestration started. Needless to say I was incredibly underwhelmed.

This is the view out of said window, where (I think) two people fell down and somehow lived. ....... Anyway, much more interesting was the second floor! Look!!!

I have no idea who they all are, but isn't this pretty? Nearly all walls are covered in coats-of-arms and names and dates. I loved it. Next stop: St- George Cathedral. Not that imposing, for me personally rather bland, but interesting in terms of which elements were used for decoration. Especially the arches in an early frankish-moorish style.

At that point I was nearly unable to walk. There was one part left, a tiny street with old houses. However I do know severaly medieval tiny streets that are much more interesting so I wasn't that impressed.

And then at last the stairs of hell down the hill to the exit. Why stairs of hell? Because it was 2 uneven stair steps - then a slant with uneven stones - 2 uneven stair steps - slant - stair steps - and so on. A LONG WAY down. In winter probably deadly. In spring... not deadly but tiring. At the base the people sat down almost immediatly, on benches, on steps, on the ground. Just overall exhaustion. And that's it. As mentioned I still visited the Depeche Mode concert later that day, after returning to the hotel for a much needed rest. Our next bigger plan involves London. But that will take a while because money.

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

Supernova Bio

Real Name: (Various translations) Methuselah, Earendel

More Legendary Translations (Though she doesn’t really go by them): Artemis, Athena, Cassiopeia, Eris, Nyx, Psykhe, Andromeda, Ceto, Asteria, Melinoe, Persephone, Hestia, Nemesis, Mnemosyne, Cilo, Hebe, Circe, Thanatos, Soteria, Hecate Kaun Yin (etc.)

Chosen Name: Supernova

Nickname(s): Nova

Titles (at the time of her death): Queen of Elder, Elder Queen, Supernova Queen

Former Titles: Princess of Elder, Elder Princess, Supernova Princess

Age: Nearly Thirteen Billion

Quote: “I’ve found that if people think I’m less than I actually am, the more satisfying it is for me, and more shocking it is for them, when I prove them wrong.”

“I am not your little princess. There’s a reason I was the inspiration for so many feared Goddesses."

Human Appearance: Curly Red/Blonde Hair, Purple eyes, Five Foot Three.

Natural Appearance: Curly Multi-colored Hair, Purple Eyes, Five Foot Three

Species: Elder (Neighbor planet of Gallifrey)

Status: Suppressed but Alive

Cause of Supposed Death: Shot by Dalek after trying to save the Doctor’s life

Powers/Abilities: Empathy, Mild Telepathy, Reincarnation, Aura-Seeing, Mind Palace, Light Manipulation, Heat Manipulation, Optional Semi-Immortality, Levitation, Memory Transfer, Gravity Manipulation,

Oddities: Silver Tears; when Elders die, their bodies glow and cause a violent seeming although ultimately harmless explosion outward; Legend says that some are capable of reincarnating as new Elders or other alien species if their gods view them worthy enough, only one has been proven worthy enough.

Relations:

Kassandra (Mother, Deceased)

Castiel (Father, Deceased)

Narcissus (Husband via Arranged Marriage, Deceased)

Personality: Loyal to a fault; Kind; Compassionate; Fierce; Protective; Intelligent; Scary when angry; Geeky; Witty; Sarcastic; Tomboy; Just; Selfless; Shy, Hufflepuff, Brave, Curious, Soft, Insecure, Secret Badass, Observant, Strong, Fighter, Trusting, Loving, Violent, Impulsive, Scatterbrained, Pessimistic, Eccedentiast (Hides her pain with smiles), Cold Anger, Hyperactive, Insensitive, Masks her feelings, Perceptive, Paradoxical

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Hogwarts Hybrid: Gryfflepuff (Hufflepuff/Gryffindor)

Fears:

Claustrophobia — Fear of small, enclosed spaces — As a princess she grew to resent enclosed spaces as she often felt trapped.

Likes: Freedom, Science Fiction, Fantasy, Reading, Helping, The color purple, Traveling with the Doctor, Halloween, Kindness, Mischief, The Doctor, Violence, Proving people wrong

Dislikes: Being Bored, Feeling Trapped, Most People, Wearing dresses, Looking girly, Being called girly, The color pink, Valentine's Day, Conformity, Being forced to conform to royal forms

Tendencies: To go on philosophical tangents, to help those who feel distressed, to become violently protective; Tranquil Fury

Skills/Abilities: Sword Fighting, Acting, Sherlock Scan (Look on tvtropes.org), Intellect, Weapon Proficiency, Fighting, Martial Arts, Hacking, Omnilingual, Ability to use a Mind Palace (Like in Sherlock.)

Possible Disorder(s): ADHD, Directional Dyslexia

Sexuality: Heteroflexible Demisexual

Wardrobe: Flannel; Plaid; Leather Jackets; Beanies; Graphic tees; High tops; Boots; Trench Coats

Accessories: 3D Glow-In-The-Dark Galaxy Ball Pendant (Chameleon Arch), Alien Sword that Changes Its Blade As Per Wielder’s Mental Command

Friends: Ozzie Clarus (First love/Ex; Deceased), The Doctor, The Master (Presumed Deceased), Sarah Jane Smith, (Various other companions of the Doctor)

Enemies: Daleks, Cybermen, Narcissus

Love Interests: 

Ozzie Clarus (First Love/Ex; Deceased)

The Doctor (Crush)

The Master (One-Sided Crush on his side; Presumed Deceased)

Narcissus (Husband by Arranged Marriage; Deceased)

Face Claim(s):

Malina Weissman (Violet Baudelaire)

Katherine Langford (Hannah Baker/Morgan Stark/Nimue/Leah Burke/Meg Thrombey)

[eukaryotesrool]

Antelope

Alrighty, I'd like y'all to imagine an antelope, envision it, NOW.

Good? Then continue.

(Antelope overload)

Did you imagine a hoofed animal? Perhaps in grassy Africa? Grazing? Perchance, like the charming fellows above?

Well, all of the above are antelope! So what is 'antelope'? A family? An order even? No, and no, though, its related to a family in that it is a collection of genuses, but it's what's called a wastebasket taxon.

An antelope must be part of the family bovidae and NOT be a goat, sheep, or other cattle, the EXACT rules are a touch shaky because, well, antelope is (I believe) a polyphyletic grouping, meaning the group neither posses the common ancestor of all members of the group (which would be paraphyletic) or the common ancestor AND all descendents of that ancestor (which would be monophyletic, which makes something a true clade).

But there's still some meaning to the word, 91 entire species of antelope roam Africa, India, Central Asia, the Middle East, and even a small part of Eastern Europe.

(Illustration from The History of Four-footed Beasts (1607))

In much of ye old Europe the antelope was strangely viewed as a mighty beast of prey, with horns of razor and the heart of a wolf.

(Coat of arms of the Dule of Abercorn)

This design was used largely for heraldry, and still sticks around today, I think it looks neat.

Now, lets go over specific antelope, I've chosen based on very good reasons.

Best scientific name

(A kob)

Some scientific names repeat themselves, such as Vulpes vulpes, those ones are easy to remember, some species names are used as a common name, such as Arcticitis binturong

Then you have...

THE KOBUS KOB, near perfection, the generic name is very similar to the species name, and the species name is also a major common name, tremendous bonus points because it sounds funny

Even more bonus points because there's a subspecies called the Kobus kob kob, perfection, no notes.

The littlest baby

(So cute, squeeeee!)

The royal antelope, known scientifically as Neotragus pygmaeous, it's one of a large (unlike them, hehe) number of 'dwarf antelope' but the royal antelope is the littlest among them.

Standing up to 10 inches (25 cm) tall and weighing in at (at the upper end) 6.6 lb (3 kg), that footlong hotdog you had for lunch is longer than this lad is tall!

(A wittle baby royal antelope)

Little is known about these jungle-dwelling cuties, they mysteriously wander hidden in foliage.

The weirdest

(Such a silly guy!)

The saiga (Saiga tatarica) I mean, just look at him! This antelope lives mostly in Russia, making it an oddity in geographic location too!

Their strange downward curved nose is mysterious, and seems to serve many purposes, keeping warm, filtering out dust they inhale, and, of course, an amazing sense of smell!

They even communicate with loud nasally roars!

The most antelope-y

(Such antelope, much cute)

Thomson's gazelle (Eudorcas thomaonii) will always be the masoct of antelopes, the true antelope, to me.

It's still exceptional though, the fourth fastest land animal, running up to 50-55 MPH (80-90 KM/H) cheetahs (the fastest land animal) are their main predator. They're also sometimes called tommies!

The biggest baby

(They tall)

The fittingly names giant eland (Taurotragus derbianus)!

Standing between 7.19 and 9.55 feet (219 and 291 cm) tall, females weighing between 660 and 1320 pounds (300 a and 600 kg) and the larger males weighing from 880 up to 2650 pounds (400 to 1200 kg)!

My Favorite!

Yes, that's the royal antelope, it was love at first sight, okay? They're perfect! The saiga and Thomson's gazelle are the runner ups.

The most threatened

Sadly, there are several terribly threatened antelope, the hirola, or Beatragis hunteri is the worst off, considered critically endangered by the IUCN, there is only two levels worse than that, extinct in the wild, and truly extinct.

Less than 500 remain, none in captivity. Neither humanity nor nature have been too kind to this critter, hunting, habitat loss, disease and more have devestated this poor creature, the lowered elephant population causes bush enchroachment, harming the hirola, giving a good show of the domino effect of extinction, but its not all bad.

August twelth is hirola day! Human's have begun manually trimming brush, to keep the habitat of the hirola (and other species) in place, if they did go extinct it'd be the first time a mammalian genus has gone extinct in mainland Africa in modern human history, lets try not to lose the record we have going.

I have hope.

Sadly, the saiga is, yet again, a runner up, it too is critically endangered, along with other antelopes.

[drustvar]

Ch. 5 : Manticore

Manticore - The Latin word for "man eater". Shenanigans backstage.

WC: 3,597 A/N: Rosie is so very stressed and uses Julian as a chewtoy. Not that he minds. Special thanks to @honeyfixations for beta'ing this chapter! Ao3 Link in reblog || Full text available under read more.

Shortly after the sounds of the market had faded behind them, Julian stopped; his eye lighting up as he stared up at the building in front of them. It was tall and windowless, weather-beaten yet still stylish. Panels of old fresco illustrating faded scenes of romance and adventure adorned its sides. Rosie tilted her head, eyeing it with curiosity. The building, along with a lack of windows, had no visible doors that she could see. If this was the café he had been talking about, it was nowhere near as busy as it should have been at that time of day. 

“So it’s still standing,” Julian laughed quietly as he stared up at the building in wonder. “I used to come here all the time, back in the day. It was an irresistible spot,” he continued, becoming more and more wistful. “High ceilings, great ambience…little booths tucked away. And underground,” he glanced back at her, his lips drawn into a sly smile. “You could lounge around for hours, just… talking . And we, ah, I’ve been meaning to say,” his smile had dropped and his voice and his voice had become somber once more. “We do. Need to talk, that is,” he trailed off as he took her hand and led her into the shadows cast by an old, rotting beam. Tucked away in the shade was a small, meandering stairwell that led to an underground entrance.

“Julian,” Rosie stopped on the last step, her hand on his arm. “Whatever it is that I’ve done wrong, I’m sorry.” “What? Rosie,” he stared at her, visibly confused as he patted her hand. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“I haven’t?” 

“No,” he said gently. “We just…we really need to talk. After you, my dear.” He yanked open the heavy door and ushered her inside.

‘Well if he’s not upset with me, why’s he keep dancing around it? ’ She thought as she ducked inside.  Light was scarce inside the building, what little there was fell in random shafts at varying sizes and intervals. Faded fabrics with bold, once-colorful patterns hung in crowded rows from the ceiling. There was a slim walkway that snaked through the maze of dusty, strange curios. It was bizarre, but strangely comforting.

“You aren’t being quite as subtle as you think,” she said, trying not to laugh at the way Julian peered around every corner. “I dunnae think anyone’s-” she trailed off as lilting conversation drifted over to them. She grimaced and pressed closer to his side. 

“Well,” Julian murmured. “This is all very unlike the way I remember it. The place must have gone under, that’s a shame. They used to serve this smoky tea that I haven’t been able to find since.”

“So…is this that café?” “Ah, well, no. But! It’s just as good. Or at least, it was.” He led her through a nearby makeshift-corridor. Rosie craned her neck as she tried to discern a theme in the objects that surrounded them. Huge bolts of fabric were slung over high backed chairs. A smiling, hammered metal moon hung from a wire overhead. Even more oddities came into view as they made their way through the clutter; shiny spears, a chest full of tin bells and ragged feathers, mannequins in a jumbled pile. Julian paused, his gaze drifting over the assortment. 

“Now it seems to be some kind of an oddity shop? Artifact reliquary? Antiques storage?” He shook his head. “Some kind of emporium. What a shame. Still cozy enough, though.” His hand fell to rest on her hip. The dramatic arch of his brow almost made her laugh, but he quickly looked away, something else catching his attention.

“Now, what have we here?”

Propped against the far wall was a speckled, cloudy mirror, a layer of dust visible on what was once a gilded frame. But it was hanging off of it that had caught his eye. A doctor’s mask, long and beaked just like his had been. He snatched it up, as if by instinct. 

“What’s this? It’s not really a medical mask, is it?” He turned it over in his hands, examining it with great interest. The mask looked like it was made for fashion, not function; the shape was similar, but it wasn’t completely closed off. The color was much more whimsical too, a smoky gradient with shiny gold accents. “We used to stuff the beaks with herbs,” he said quietly. “Camphor, roses, poseys…you know, when we had them. This one’s just a statement piece,” he chuckled and flipped it over, staring into the mask’s eyes. They weren’t glass, they seemed instead to be a sheer, gauzy film. Rosie looked at him and then back at the mask. There was something nostalgic in the way he looked at it.

“Do you want to put it on?” She asked quietly. His jaw dropped slightly as he considered the prospect. “If you’re suggesting that I miss the one I tossed to the eels-” 

She shrugged. “You hung onto it for all that time. An' clearly it wasn't just to protect your identity.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Let me tell you how much it pains me that you caught me then. But, you know,” he ran a finger along the mask’s beak, caressing it with some kind of careful detachment. “It doesn’t bother me half as much in black, far more sleek and fashionable, hm? Maybe I will.” Rosie nodded at him encouragingly. After another moment of consideration, he dipped his head and fastened the mask into place. 

“Well, it certainly doesn’t smell like any of the herbs we were using,” he paused to glance at his reflection. “Ha, how funny. Who would have thought that anyone would ever wear something like this for the aesthetic?” 

“I think you make it look rather dashing,” she said as she reached up to gently straighten the mask. The motion felt strangely familiar.

“Well, I may not have contributed to the world of medicine, but I suppose I made waves in the world of fashion,” he laughed. She smiled up at him, her eyes drawn along the fluid line of the beak to the shadows of his jaw. “And you say I cut a rather dashing figure in it, eh?” He grinned as he stooped closer to her height. 

'How do you suppose you’d go about kissing someone in a mask like that?’ She wondered. Her question, although unspoken, must have been visible in her expression. When Julian spoke again, his voice was lower, having taken on a velvety tone. “You think it’d be hard to kiss with one of these? Imagine kissing with two of them.” “You’d just have to clack the beaks together.” They both laughed; Rosie’s eyes were drawn to his throat and the way it moved with his laughter. She couldn’t stop herself, she lunged at his neck and caught his pale skin between her teeth. She could feel his pulse in her mouth spike and his breath hitch. His fingers tangled in her hair as he pushed her closer. She grinned and obliged, sinking her teeth in deeper. He shivered and a quiet groan escaped his lips. 

“That’s more like it,” he murmured. “Please, here, please,” he yanked his collar back, exposing more of his skin. 

“Careful,” Rosie purred as she nipped along his collarbone. “I might just eat you up.” She kissed his jaw before sinking her teeth into the spot just below it. She reached up and dug her nails into the back of his neck, winning another pleased groan. She let go, glancing at the deep red and teeth marks she had left on his skin.  He gasped, his voice heavy when he spoke. “Leave as many marks as you want, please…please.” She looked from his desperate eyes to the already fading mark. She thought for sure she’d bitten him hard enough for it to last.“Ah, the curse. Remember?” “I can outdo a curse,” she growled as she ran her tongue over her teeth. She grabbed him roughly, fingers tangled in auburn hair as she forced him to stoop lower. He moaned as she sunk her teeth into his earlobe and lightly shook, just enough to break the soft skin. She let go and tilted his head back, watching as a pearl of blood welled where her canine had sank in.  “That’s it, don’t be shy,” his words were almost slurred. She wondered if his knees were going to buckle under him. “More. More please. Give me something to remember you by.”

“Remember me by?” She asked as she watched the small beads of blood from his ear start to trail down his throat. She wanted nothing more than to lap it up. Before she could, Julian had wrapped an arm around her shoulders and whirled them around, pinning her against the mirror. 

“Oh, did I say that?” 

“I dunnae like the way you said it,” Rosie murmured as she pressed an insistent kiss to the crook of his neck. He cradled her head, gloved fingers brushing tenderly against the back of her neck. “Makes it sound like you think you’re gonna get away from me.”  “I'd never!" He laughed at the little huff she let out. "You're far too cute. I might just melt if I spend anymore time with you.” He sighed and drew her in close to his chest. She kissed his throat again, softer this time as she followed the line of his collarbone. He pet her hair, fingers weaving in and out of the thick curls. She sighed, her breath warm against his cool skin. “If you would, bite along here,” he guided her closer to the long muscle just behind his ear. She made a soft noise, not unlike a purr as she nuzzled his sideburns and pressed another kiss to his jaw. “Aw, what happened to that ferocity?” He laughed as he pressed a kiss against her brow. “You should know by now you don’t have to be gentle with me.” Rosie felt her heart skip a beat as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him. He tilted her chin up and guided her mouth to his. It was soft and tender, and her chest felt lighter the longer lingered. She wanted it to last, more than anything she wanted it to last. She could tell he did, too, from the way he moved his lips against hers and the reluctant huff from his nose when they had to part.

“Sweet,” he murmured. “Sweet?” “Mm, floral, even. Wonderful umami notes.” She couldn’t help but giggle at the way his tongue swiped over his lip. “Almost too much,” he grinned and curled his fingers under her chin.  “ Too much?” She said, feigning offense. Before he could speak again, Rosie hissed and swiped at the mask, her long nails tearing through the cord that had held it in place. Julian let out a surprised noise as it clattered to the floor. 

“Oh, something wrong?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” she drawled, her nails glinting in the low light as she traced his jaw. “Is it wrong to want to see your face?” When he had put on the mask, it was like a shade had passed over him; some kind of bravado he could hide behind. She wanted him to be vulnerable, because maybe then, she could be, too.

“Nothing wrong with that,” he said as he pulled her in for another kiss. She threw her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair. It was easier now, of course. It all felt so much more natural, how his lips caressed hers without either of them having to tilt at an odd angle. He laughed when they parted, the low rumbling sound reverberating against her chest. “It looked strange on me, anyway. That one and the one I wore back then,” he said. “Shame on me letting something so unpleasant come between us.” A look crossed his face and his smile suddenly faded. Rosie pouted as his arm slipped away from her shoulder. Before she could ask him what was wrong, a miserable wail ripped through the air. 

“Did you hear that?” Julian’s gaze darted from side to side. “Of course I did! We ought to get out of here,” she hissed as she scooped the mask up off of the floor. “Humor me and stay close,” he said, as he retied the mask sloppily back over his face. He took her hand and pressed a finger to his lips. They slowly crept in the direction of the wailing, ducking under beams and stepping over broken bottles. Eventually, they emerged out of the maze of bizarre items. Before them hung heavy, velvet curtains, parted by a thin beam of red light.

“We need to get out of here,” she hissed as she tugged on his hand. She was answered by another wail from just beyond the curtain. “Julian?” She peered around him. Through the gap in the curtains she could see a figure, clad in sheer scarlet robes, heaving and sobbing against a shredded daybed. Stranger still, they wore a porcelain half-mask that had anguish streaked mascara running down the sculpted cheek; it glinted in the stage light. 

“Wait up in my room? On my birthday?” The figure wailed again, their voice cracking in exaggerated pitch. “What do you expect me to do all night in here? Clomp around in my hooves? Beg the bus-boy for table scraps? If I can’t disgust anyone doing it, what is the point!” 

“Oh my god.” “What the hell is this?” Rosie’s curiosity of the bizarre scene had overridden her insistence that they needed to escape. “That’s fantastic,” Julian laughed quietly. “It sounds just like him.” “Who? Is that-” she glanced at the person on stage, who was now sloppily drinking from a bottle of wine. “Is that supposed to be Count Lucio?” ' Can’t even see him well, but I’m sure he’s too handsome for the part,’ she thought.

“Was he really such a whiny bitch?” “Tenfold when he didn’t get his way the exact moment he demanded it.” 

She squinted against the stage lights. She could see that the theater was packed up to the rafters. Evidently, mocking the late count was prime entertainment in South End.

“Well I’m glad to see that the arts are flourishing,” Julian said. “A renaissance may have begun since I’ve been away. But, if this is Lucio on the night of his birthday…you don’t suppose this is a show about the mur-” 

Everything seemed to happen at once. The audience outside was roaring with laughter as Lucio’s actor threw himself onto the bed and wept. At the same time, a sandbag fell between Julian and Rosie. The curtain was beginning to roll shut, but as it did, a rope snagged taut around his ankle and dragged him into the air. “Julian!” She was too stunned to do anything but watch, not  that there was much she could have done. He hung suspended over the actor on stage, just out of view of anyone in the audience. He thrashed around like a worm on a hook, until he knocked something gleaming out of his boot: a knife. She swore under her breath as she watched him swing upwards and catch the rope coiled around his ankle. He severed it and fell, landing in a splayed heap right in the Count’s lap. “Doctor Devorak!” The actor lit up. “Here to cure my boredom!” Shrieking laughter and applause erupted from the audience. Julian leapt to his feet, visibly gulping. He briefly met Rosie’s eyes from where she stood, still hidden in the curtain’s shadow. He looked out at the crowd and then at Lucio’s actor. He let out a sharp bark of laughter and turned, looming over the Count. “Not doing too well, are you my poor, poor patient,” he laughed again, deep and menacing. “I’m afraid the clock strikes thirteen for you tonight.” He yanked back his glove and let it go with a loud snap. Lucio’s actor fell back, gasping and clutching his chest. “Whatever will you do?” Smother me with your thighs?” “For the hundredth time, no . I hope you savored that gasp Lucio, for it will be your last.” 

They dove at one another and tussled on the bed, feathers flying everywhere as the crowd roared with laughter.  As amusing as it was, Rosie found herself becoming increasingly anxious. If this was a common occurrence, who all was in the audience? What would stop the Countess from sending guards to storm the theater if she found out they were mocking the murder of her late husband? She looked around at the clutter that surrounded her backstage, desperate for an idea. On the stage, Lucio’s actor reared back and drew a wobbly sword from behind the daybed. “Give me a real fight, man on man! We’ll see who takes the last breath then!” Lucio said as he took a wide fighting stance. “If it’s a fight you want,” Julian paused as a stagehand shoved a sword into his hand before they scurried away. “It’s a fight you’ll get! En garde!”

'Nope ,’ Rosie thought as she grabbed a heavy black cloak and threw it over herself. ‘ Even if those are just props, I’m not risking it !’ In her hurry, she knocked over several glass bottles that sent an eerie colored fog drifting out over the stage as she stalked out of the shadows.

The audience gasped at the cloaked figure that was creeping, silently,  jerkily onstage. Lucio’s actor let out a terrified shriek, dropping his sword and pointing. Julian never missed a beat, leaping to the side out of her way. “I warned you, Lucio! Death has come for you!” 

Rosie pointed at Lucio, the stage lights making her long nail seem like a crooked, ghastly claw. “Noo! It can’t be!” Lucio squealed and grabbed for his sword, managing to bump it off the stage, much to the audience’s amusement. Rosie took another step forward, remaining silent as she swiped at him.

“Devorak, d-do something! I’ll do anything, anything! Don’t let me die!” The Count’s actor scrambled backwards, the fog swirling around him like ghostly hands. “I did all I could for you, it’s out of my hands,” Julian said. “Say your last words Lucio, and may the fires that burn you on the way down burn brighter than any before!” He whirled around, his cape sending the fog swirling wildly. Lucio’s actor let out a terrified scream that ended in a convincing gurgle as he slumped over, obscured by the mist. The crowd went wild, cheering and clapping as the curtain dropped abruptly. As soon as they were out of sight, Rosie grabbed Julian’s hand and spirited him away. “That was easier than I thought it would be,” he said, looking very pale as they ducked into a hidden corner. “Ah, and you, Rosie.” His gaze was full of admiration as she threw back the cloak’s hood. “That was brilliant! Why didn’t you tell me  you were an actress?” 

“I’m not,” she said as she shrugged off the heavy fabric. “Oh, but you should be! Such grace, such a commanding presence! Why, you even had me convinced the reaper herself had entered our midst.”

“I didn’t, I-” she looked away, her ears pink as she let out a small laugh. “Was I really that good?” “Inspiring,” Julian swept her under his arm. She laughed as he dipped her close to the floor. “I had just gotten scared. I knew the swords were fake, but…” She trailed off. Just the thought of him being hurt had made her see red. “After everything, the rope and that fall, I just didn’t know what else was going to happen.”

“Ah, well,” he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Glad to see we can both think on our feet.”

|| The two made their way back along the same winding path as before until they were outside in the sun again. Rosie stopped in the stairwell, wrapping her arms tightly around him. “I was so worried,” she said quietly. “I know South End is safe. I know the people here like you, but, all it would take is one tip to the guards, and then...and then,” she could feel her voice starting to break.  “Rosie,” Julian hugged her back and pet her hair. “I know it certainly caught me off guard, falling right into the spotlight like that. But I don’t think anyone realized it was really me.” Her pulse was still racing. One look into her worried eyes made his expression falter. “Right. So that, er, that wasn’t what I had in mind. Let me try this again,” he took both of her hands in his, something forlorn swimming in his gaze. “Rosie, let's head over to the Raven for a bite to eat. If…” he paused, brushing his thumbs over the back of her hands. “If you’d be so forgiving as to join me? My treat, of course. And uh, after that…a nice walk down to the docks. How does that sound?”

A meal did sound tempting, especially as Rosie came to the realization that she hadn’t eaten anything all day. But more than that, she hoped he would finally tell her what was on his mind; whatever it was, it was driving her crazy not to know. He’d said she hadn’t done anything wrong, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something deeply upsetting had come between them.