#perhaps I'll schedule this again for loop day...

[ad-astra-per-aspera-1389]

Physically? I’m here. Mentally? I’m on Cairnholm, an island off the coast of Wales, on September 3rd, 1940.

[urhoneycombwitch]

Rockstar!Eddie x assistant/manager!reader who likes Eddie, because unlike some other rockers, he minds his p's and q's, doesn't run off to god knows where with God knows who at all hours of the night, isn't overly demanding, but the damn boy jist won't let them do their job!

he wants to follow assistant!reader around like a puppy even when they're trying to tell him no! you've got rehearsal and I have to go do xyz! Or trying to go out on a date and assistant reader is like, if I want my salary, I have to abide by the contract that says I can't get involved with the contract and Eddie's trying to use his Bambi eyes like 🥺🥺 but what if we talked about the music? Isn't that still contract abiding? Just, you know, wear something nice and I'll pick you up from your room at 8. And they're like 🙄 you're going to get me in trouble, but Eddie doesn't mind them threatening his ass, because he'll pay their salary out of pocket and honestly, a person in charge turns him on (which is why he keeps pestering so assistant!reader can keep telling him off)

verrrryyyyyy this!!!??

assistant!reader who is totally neurotic/anal about everything, like perhaps seek an OCD diagnosis bestie (but it’s 1990 and no one has time for that!!)

you get hired to drag their asses to places on time but also bc you graduated top of your communications class and can get them into any building anywhere. you and eddie have a whole “do you even know who you’re TALKING TO” routine that you’ve perfected over the years.

It literally took him months to wear you down into not calling him Mr. Munson anymore. you were trying to be PROFESSIONAL while also tamping down your massive crush on Eddie.

it’s a sitch of eddie fell first and loudly but you fell… near-silently. Over the course of two 30-state tours. Bc he’s your CLIENT. You CANT do anything about your little crush. Even IF he flirts with you like it’s his job. Even IF you accidentally walked in on him changing one time and all he did was grin wolfishly at you and asked if you liked what you saw.

morning pre-show meetings w the whole team where the band is half asleep from drunken escapades the night previous but they all show up 9am (mostly) sharp bc they knew Eddie promised to flay them alive if they didn’t make your meeting.

and he’s sitting at the head of the conference room table, boots staggered on the ground, all dark denim and black leather, smoking a cigarette with his morning coffee, looking like he wants to eat you up as you pointedly ignore him so you can get through your little whiteboard spiel

and when you cap the dry erase pen and turn on your heel all efficient to the assembled team chirping “Okay, any comments or questions?” Eddie is raising two fingers in the air casually. And when you call on him with an apprehensive “Yes, Eddie?” (bc you’re expecting pushback on the schedule you’d just painstakingly outlined) he throws you for a loop when he instead says “You’re looking very pretty today, angel 🙂”

Leaving you sputtering, grabbing at some random papers on the table to shakily stack- “Any other comments or questions?”- immediately followed by Eddie raising his hand again, so you tack on “About the schedule? 🙄” and his hand goes down.

and as the marketing head takes over you can FEEL Eddie grinning at you from the corner of your eye and you’re really not trying to give him the satisfaction of your attention but it’s getting harder to deny his charms w each passing day 🫠🫠🫠

[linaket]

Monthly Writing Update (February)

A slow January led to... a crazy quick February. I can't even believe its over, and I definitely dragged in my writing this month. Honestly, even sitting here all I have is a vague sense of what even happened this month.

I was promoted at work right at the beginning of the month, and spent a lot of time stressing over the drama and dynamics around that change this month. It even changed my shift schedule. I was working four days a week, ten hour shifts, and able to set aside an entire day for writing a week. My new position doesn't allow for that schedule, but while this is the first week in about two years that I'm back to working 5 days a week (and... six in a row on the first week) I spent most of my days off this month once again getting the house in order, and just being a general nervous mess about things...

Books Read

Untethered Sky by Fonda Lee

Jade City and Jade War by Fonda Lee (guess it was a Fonda kinda month?)

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White

Four books at least meets the minimum of my (kinda unofficial) reading goal, even though I was pretty lucky this was a leap month because I only just finished Jade War today.

While I'm quite enjoying the Green Bone Saga, I've found something about it doesn't connect with me on a personal level, as a reader. Perhaps it is the POV that it is written in, but I am not getting the emotional connection that I often crave with books that truly sit with me. I'm absolutely going to finish it, and recommend it for anyone who wants to write epic fantasy. But I do think every book can teach a writer something new, and what I've been learning from this one is that I want to be more aware of the emotional stakes of my characters, and making that aspect more active in the narrative.

That being said, Untethered Sky? knocked it out of the park. Likely due in part to it being a novella, so everything was far more condensed. But 12/10 either way.

Writing Accomplishments

Honestly I am fighting the failure feeling just trying to type up this paragraph... basically, I tried to work on the extra for Shadow's Prey but ended up dropping it. I will likely still be aiming to release the ebook, but it will probably just be a very quiet release. It's mostly done and edited, but I don't think I'll be able to include an extra like originally intended. I started working on something, and MT kept singing its siren song and distracting me.

Also, I got art of the boys now! I'm excited to share it, and make some fun things for them.

That said, I did at least manage to finish something...

Favorite Excerpt

Valor told himself that it was better, that Ruse’s consistent prattling and teasing was an irritating distraction. But he couldn’t stop looking over at him. Though Ruse squinted against the brightness of the sun, the gaudy sunglasses hung on the collar of his shirt, stretching the already worn fabric. The bruises on his neck from the confrontation in Petra had faded over the last few days, gone from deep purple to a mottled yellow along the pale column of his throat. It was better that Ruse had gotten quiet. Better that he kept his gaze away, that he wouldn’t look at Valor. Every minute, every moment that Ruse didn’t look at him, didn’t focus his depthless attention on Valor, didn’t say anything, didn’t make a sound, was better because it meant that Valor didn’t have to think about what his hair would feel like between his fingers, what his throat would taste like under his lips. He could ignore the fact that he wanted to drown in Ruse, press his mouth against him and never come up for air. Valor tightened his grip on the steering wheel and went over the plan. Take Ruse into the Graves, retrieve the part for Jarl Nero’s scryer, and trade for information on the location of Noble Marek.  Then he’d find his father, and he’d kill his father. 

On Loop

Abe Parker - it is what it is

You're walking on the water that I'm drowning in Thought I heard a whisper, was it just the wind again Or the trail of blood I'm following? And if I'm the one to blame I guess all that I could say It is, it is, it is what it is All the things I couldn't change I lay with someone else's sins Let my soul just fly away All the way up to Heaven's light I pound those gates with no reply

Final Thoughts

I wish I had done more, and I also wish I could stop being hard on myself about this. It's no good. I am not nearly as hard on myself for not doing what I thought I should as I used to, but that's something really hard to shake, even if it doesn't help anything.

That said, it was a bit of a tough and strange month for me. I felt like I was dragging myself through each day, even dragging myself through reading. And while I did manage to at least finish some writing, I simply did not have the energy for anything more.

Hoping that I get used to this new schedule quickly. My work days feel much shorter now, since I'm used to the longer ones, and I've had more energy after. Also the position I took, while it was a promotion, is less stressful than the one I've been working. At least, so far. We'll see how the month shapes up. I am always far more productive, writing and other things wise, when I'm not carrying the work stress around, so. I'm hoping for the best here.

March Goals

Read 4 books again, and I've got a pretty good idea of what they'll be and excited about it, so at least I won't get struck by some kind of decision paralysis with that.

Release Shadow's Prey: Act 1 ebook! Yeah, it's still on goal for next month, despite that I wish I had it completely ready now. Really, its just final touches and me figuring out some of the technical details that need to be done. And like I said before, it'll probably be a very quiet release. I'll probably make a few posts about it after its up, but mostly its just to get it out there. I'm not really promoting the heck out of this one because, well... it's already tested with audiences. Probably the wrong audience, but it has been tested and it was difficult to get interest/attention, which is a fault of mine. I am NOT GREAT at marketing. And while I'm very happy with and proud of it, I know the work I'll have to do to really draw an audience to it. Especially considering the... not good at marketing thing. I have been researching and keeping an eye out for ideas and being practical about what it takes and what to do, but the task itself takes a lot of energy from me and I simply can't do that in time for a release. But I'm tired of simply sitting on all these books and doing nothing with them.

For Mortal Teeth, I need to finish the next arc. It's actually only two more chapters. This is a bit of a low goal, but I want to make sure I set something that I know I can do without feeling awful. Especially since these were supposed to be done last month.

Maybe a stretch goal of releasing character intros/aesthetics for the MT boys?

[joonistheuniverse]

Chapter 5 - Darling and Jagiya (Part II)

It's the next day and you're back to work, walking down the corridor towards your department after a 2-hour brainstorming meeting, and already feel exhausted. Not wanting to ponder over it, you check your calendar. You have another 2 meetings to attend, sighing to yourself and making your way towards the conference rooms. 

It's 3 p.m. and you conclude that it's been a hectic day. You receive a reminder about your appointment with the OBGYN regarding your current health status. Without stressing about it further, you get up to attend the other 2 meetings with the marketing and set design departments respectively. 

After the last meeting concludes, you take your phone to message Namjoon and Samatha about your appointment. You log out and drive for the appointment. It takes you 20 minutes to reach your destination. Waiting in the sitting room of the clinic, you feel nervousness bubble in your stomach. The nurse calls your name after 15 minutes. Dr. Yen greets you with a smile, "Hello, Y/N. How are you doing today?" You simply reply, "Yes, I am good. I hope the report is okay too." Saying this you take a seat. 

Pulling your report out from the pile, she once again skims through it with her eyebrows furrowed and then she asks you, "How sexually active are you with your partner?" This question takes you back to the times you and Namjoon have had sex. The way he holds you close, whispering praises as he thru… "Yes, it is good and healthy." "Do you have unprotected sex? If yes, do you take birth control pills?" 

"Yes, of course. I do." "Okay, so the thing is that there's nothing wrong or suspicious in your report. It's the pills that are affecting your hormone levels with stress as the external factor adding to this." "Oh, okay. I have been taking these." You pull out the previously prescribed pills to show Dr.Yen. She takes a look at it

"Okay, so I'll prescribe you a new one. Which won't have major effects on you. There could be minor ones, as all birth control pills do. And don't stress about work. Samantha tells me how dedicated you are." You smile at that. "Thank you, Dr.Yen. It was a pleasure to meet you." She smiles back and you exit the clinic towards your car to head to the next destination. 

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

It's been three days since you've seen your boyfriend. As both of you have had very busy schedules. You smile as you drive towards his apartment, located in Seoul's luxe locality with the thought of how lucky you are to have him as the love of your life. On entering the parking lot, you spot the valet who's waiting for your arrival.

You ring the doorbell, and Namjoon welcomes you with a warm hug followed by a peck on your forehead saying, "How was your day, babe?" while caressing your waist as you both step into his apartment. "Hmmm, it was tiring. I was stuck in a loop of meetings. What about yours? Weren't you supposed to meet the producer for your songs? Did it go well?" 

He escorts you to the dining room, chuckling, "Babe, breathe you have so many questions. And yes, I met him to show the new beats for my song. Oh! Also, what does your report say?” 

This question melts your heart, "Yea. The doctor said it was the side effects of the birth control pills I am currently taking, topped by stress. So, now she has prescribed another one for me, which she says is a bit safer and has slightly fewer complications." 

He looks at you intently, takes your hands to rub soothing circles and kisses them gently. 

"Okay, I hate how these pills affect the woman's body. But, I am glad that there's nothing serious." 

"Anyways, Joon, I'll go and freshen up. My muscles are aching." "Do you perhaps need some help?" he says, wiggling his eyebrows. "No! You continue writing the lyrics till I come back."

After 25 minutes of relaxing your stiff muscles, you return to the dining room and watch Namjoon heat the food. 

"Jagi, do you want me to pour you some wine?" "Sure, if you're drinking tonight, I will. It's been a very long day, Darling." You smile, leaving a small peck on Namjoon's lips, that makes him show his deep dimples. 

With the drink in your hand, you straddle his lap, and both of you take a sip of your respective drinks. Sensing the sweet, ripe fruity flavours tingling your tastebuds, you hum by drinking the wine. With Namjoon holding the rock glass in one hand and another hand supporting the small of your back, he leans in and nuzzles himself in the space between your neck and shoulder; peppering your neck with light kisses. You lean in further as he pulls you closer towards him, sitting directly above the area of his crotch. This automatically makes you slowly grind your groin against his. The friction is fueling your urge to go straight into the act. 

You pull back to take and place both of your glasses on the console table. After which, Namjoon sits back, as you now take control kissing him passionately starting from his neck to his lips. He groans against your lips when he feels your fingers slipping under his shirt. You can feel his abdominal muscles tighten.

You can feel his erection, making you slightly move behind and trace your hand below to gently palm it. "Fuck  jagiya. Stop grinding or palming me and do something!" You smirk, feeling proud of how he's reacting to your touches. "Hmmm, wait darling." You reply as you mark him with a hickey on his collarbone. 

Further on, you get up giggling, slowly getting up from his lap, kneeling in front of him and making eye contact. Namjoon looked like he'd do anything for you to go faster. "Darling, you look eager", you cheekily replied. "Don't worry, jagiya, let's see who'll be desperate once I take charge." You hum instead of saying something. 

You untie the strings of his short pants with him carefully eyeing your every move in anticipation. 

As you are about to go further inching for his underwear, the doorbell rings and you step back. "Fuck!" you hear him curse out loud. "Who would it be at this hour?" 

"Let me go and see using the monitor." You stand up heading towards the monitor, while he's still seated with his shorts pooling around his ankles. 

Upon pressing the view function of the security camera, you see his manager - Joo-Won. It's an odd time for him to come after work at this hour, so it could be something important. "Joon, Joo-Won is here. Put your pants on!" You hear his curse again and groan, "Why is he here? I think he telepathically knew when I was about to receive the best blowjob." This makes you laugh at his misery, as he's now sporting a boner. "You open the door, while I take care of my problem here", he says pointing to his boner. 

[abyssalaerlocke]

Random Playthrough

Playing bg3 with my random generators

Rules:

Revival: Reincarnation — a spell which revives and reforms the body with a completely new appearance, including race

TPK: Magic Mirror malfunction — the party suddenly become entangled with a mirror universe (appearances are randomised, but race and body stay the same)

Level up: Filing mishap — Jergal Withers has gotten your paperwork mixed up, but hopefully one of these is your class? (two classes are presented, the second is only prioritised if it's an existing class for that character, and the first wasn't)

Party: Scheduling problems — scheduling is hard, and so is adventuring; each day, take along whoever's up for it (every long rest, party members are ordered in random priority; assemble your party from the highest ones, swapping in higher ones if they're recruited)

Day 1

We roll up a Tav who'll start as a copper dragonborn monk with the urchin background. Per my Timberborn name generator, their name is Zekai. They have Subduer Loops piercings, which I'll be retaining through their future forms.

We'll also randomise the guardian

We recruited Us, Lae'zel, and Shadowheart, and all nearly died trying to get that xp. Re-recruited Shadowheart and hit level 2. Zekai rolled Druid (then Sorcerer). Shadowheart rolled (Fighter then) a 2nd level in Cleric. Recruited Gale, who rolled War Cleric of Moradin (and Ranger). Recruited Astarion, who rolled Bard (and Monk). Re-recruited Lae'zel and sent her to camp.

There were some slight miscalculations that ended in a TPK… (I'm playing on harder settings than I'm used to, because I want death to be a relevant thing)

I'm honestly digging this mirrorverse squad, and like to think the characters swapped universes, rather than just appearances, for the interesting social implications of getting dropped into a universe with slightly unfamiliar companions back at camp, and possibly different circumstances that brought them together (maybe they weren't dealing with tadpoles in their universe, but something else).

As the party gets mixed up each day, the mirror crew is broken up, with potentially more mirrorverse shuffling. While we won't see the original companions' faces again, perhaps they've been Reincarnated in whatever universe they landed in, getting shuffled back under their new appearance.

That's All, Folks

My computer's completely noping out, so I guess I'm stopping here 😥

[irastayshome]

Collide

I'm on a loop. I thought I had lost the last saved conversation I had with you, in your final days. And I was frozen, and just unable to bring my body to get up and work, feel, do something.. anything. I thought I lost you all over again, and went down a spiral of deep yearning and unbearable despair. Then I found your phone, and it was all there. All our conversations, dating back to 2019, slightly before Idris was born. It was like an account of our entire marriage, at least the part where it started to go downhill, or so I imagined. I have a catastrophic brush that I often used for our relationship, but the truth is, it wasn't bad. It was rough, as any marriage is when children and grief are struggling to take the lead. I saw how much we worked as a team, and how much I took that for granted. We talked about everything, even stupid mundane things that you'd think would be small talk in an awkward first date. But they weren't awkward.. that was just us. We were so old before we were old, and looking back, I loved us. I love you. I could only bear a sip of that entire chat history, and I know I will keep coming back again and again when different things happen with the children or with me. Seeing how our conversations evolved, it was so raw and so painful. I feel angry at the wife that I was, I feel angry at the husband that you were, and I feel compassion all at the same time for those two. We really tried so hard to trudge through, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think our sons would have still been proud to be our children. Nowadays, perhaps not. I'm a walking wounded, Ibrahim and Idris too. That description of having a gunshot wound with blood flowing out and walking around yet not having one person realize it or acknowledge it.. that's quite.. accurate, as dramatic as it sounds. We growl and moan and scream and cry, then at the end of the day, only the three of us is able to pick each other up, wipe the blood and tears away, and hold each other close. Nobody else knows where this deep ache exists; a deep yearning at our core that is a secret to everyone else outside this house. Tell me the boys will be ok, eventually. Tell me i'll be ok yang. I dream and wish and yearn so much to have you touch my shoulders when you're back from your shift, and to feel your warm showered arms around me as you cuddle me to sleep just as i'm about to start my shift with the kids. Tell me we are just on different schedules, as usual, and that one day, they'll collide. I will try to open up to the universe, to whatever is next. But tell me that it will not bring me away from this hope of coming back to you. I don't want to let go yet.

[damagnificentcookie]

Forever Mine

Dark!Alma Peregrine X Reader

Summary: Y/n is a librarian that is stuck inside the loop. One day Alma went to the library to borrow a book when suddenly y/n caught her eye. Since then Alma would secretly follow her and perch outside her windows after she reset. She noticed that y/n never loses her memory of the day and constantly changes her schedule even subconsciously. Y/n needs her, she must protect her,...for the safety of her wards of course.

Tag List: @elza02 @mandy-asimp @sunshinecallie @whatsupwithjinx @notmanagingmymischief

Warning: Slight swearing, kidnapping, drugging, killing, basically most things that happen in the movie RUN

A/n: I should be updating my other miss peregrine book on wattpad but I reaaaallyy wanted to try and write this, hopefully, yall will like it :D (Also I'm going to do a mix of the book and movie here)

Pt 2

"Fiona, can you watch over the loop till I come back? I'll be back before supper!" Fiona eagerly agreed before hugging Alma tightly goodbye and running off.

Alma watched as Fiona disappeared around a corner and waited a while longer before she carefully opened the door and left.

The library was always pretty busy in the loop, but then again everything repeats so Alma knew when was the perfect time to go without it being too busy. She pushed open the door as a bell rang alerting the librarian of someone's presence.

"Miss Peregrine! How great to see you today, again." You welcomed warmly.

"What do you mean by again, darling, I have only just entered." Alma watched as your eyes widened and tried to quickly find an excuse to cover your mix-up.

Laughing it off, Alma placed the books she has borrowed on the table and waited for you to take them.

"Would that be all Miss Peregrine?" You smiled nervously as you put the books she has returned in a bin.

"That would be all, dear. But may I ask when you are free? I would like to introduce my children to you so whenever they come to town they know a familiar face."

You were put back a little not expecting this from a regular. It got you thinking, that every day has been repeating for the last month, you could always just say tomorrow and pretend you didn't remember this encounter when the day miraculously resets.

"Oh, that would be quite lovely! I'm free tomorrow at noon." You replied hoping she didn't notice how long it took for you to respond.

"Well it's settled, I'll come back tomorrow. See you later, dear. Oh, and please call me Alma." She winked at you before leaving.

You watched her from the window wondering how odd this encounter was. She would always come to the library and return a book at exactly half past twelve but never tried to make a conversation with you. You would always catch her staring when you turned to put her books in the return basket. How odd.

˚˚˚

Waving goodbye to your coworker, you headed out the door and made the long trek home. Oddly enough, you always felt that you were being watched but whenever you check your surroundings, no one is nearby. Shrugging it off as paranoia you seemed to forget about the bother.

Upon reaching home, you hung your coat before going into the kitchen to make some tea when the raven-haired regular invaded your head. Happy that she has talked to you today although it was odd, admittingly she is quite strange.

Shaking off the thought you took the kettle off of the stove and prepared the tea. You thought for a while, perhaps you should go with her to meet her children.

Putting the tea and some biscuits on a tray, you walked to your dining room and set the tray down. You then walked towards your drawer and brought out a pen and some paper.

If you were going to possibly come with her, why not prepare some gifts?

You started to draw a few items like teddy bears, a football, a pair of skates, and some other items. You have heard that she has about twelve kids, amazing that she can take care of that many without losing her marbles. You most definitely could not, the solitude of your home and life is more than satisfying enough.

You placed your finished drawings to the side before finishing your tea and moving it away. You decided to draw a sapphire necklace for Alma.

...Alma...what a pretty name.

You froze before shaking any thoughts out of your head and continuing the necklace.

You finished it just in time for the bombs to fly overhead. Covering your ears, you closed your eyes and started to count to ten. Soon you can hear that the bombs have left and soon it became quiet.

Opening your eyes, you took your drawings and set them down in a row. You placed your hand over the teddy bear and gently lifted it out of the paper. You repeated the process before now having live items instead of drawings. You threw away the leftover paper and started to wrap the items and placed it into your work bag.

Deciding this was enough for today, you retired to your bedroom failing to notice a falcon perched on your windowsill, watching you.

˚˚˚

"A beautiful Daisy Bell~" Softly singing to yourself as you placed the returned books back onto their designated shelves. Not hearing the bell from the door ring you continued to sing and sort the books until you hear the familiar click of a certain someone's heels.

"Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do~" You turned around quickly to see Alma looming over you pretending to look through the books on the shelves as she continued your singing.

"I'm half crazy all for the love of you" A shiver ran down your spine as her eye's met yours. You backed up and accidentally bumped into the shelf behind you.

You were in awe...she has such a beautiful voice, not that you haven't heard her speak before. Dear god, what is this woman doing to you.

"Miss Peregrine! How great to see you today." You smiled at her as you prayed that your face wasn't beet red. Alma tsked as she turned around and walked away, promptly having you let out a sigh of relief.

"Didn't I say you can call me Alma? You don't have to keep up the act, dear, I know you are pretty special." You stood there in quite a shock, frozen in place.

How could she have known? Were you not careful enough at hiding? You never drew outside of your home once. Tons of questions flood through your mind demanding answers. Finally snapping out of your trance, you walked to your desk and opened the little side door so you could go behind it.

Awkwardly you cough while asking her what you can do for her today. Handing you a book that she has borrowed just two days ago you quickly took it out of her hand and placed it into the return bin before asking her if there is anything else.

"Forgot your promise already? I don't like liars nor deal-breakers you know? You should be punished, dear." She looked into your eyes to search for what you may be thinking, trying but failing to suppress her growing smile.

"I have no idea what you are talking about Mis- Alma?" You say while trying to look anywhere but at her.

Alma raised an eyebrow and hummed. She thought for a while before smirking.

"Well if you truly don't remember then may I ask what's in your bag? It looks heavy, you don't have anything planned for tonight?" Her smirk widened when she saw a flash of fear in your eyes. Oh what an adorable little thing, you need her. You are as clueless as a little bird who flew right into a window.

The more this conversation continues the more unsettled you start to get. Your brain is screaming at you to tell her to leave but your heart was in control today and you stood your ground. Sighing in defeat, you walked back out of your desk and grabbed your bag. Your shift ends in 3 minutes, no point in hiding anymore. Alma smiled and walked towards you satisfied.

"I see you remembered, now don't you try to lie again, alright? Follow me, dearest." You were deeply unsettled but excited from today's encounter, but guessing it is too late you followed her home not realizing this will be the last time you will ever see the library or outside again.

˚˚˚

"Would you like some tea?" Alma asked as she lead you into her house, you were in awe at how gorgeous everything looked. The garden was nicely kept with kids running around and playing, and the inside was nice and comfortable with tons of decorations that complemented the walls.

"That would be nice and by golly Alma, your house is gorgeous! Did you decorate it yourself?" You complimented as you walked along the halls, gently moving your hand across the displays. It felt as if you were in a museum.

Getting caught in your mind, you failed to notice Alma's face grow red as she prepared your tea and secretly added an unknown substance.

You turned around and found that Alma was seated on a sofa looking at you with an unreadable expression. Smiling at her, she looked into your eyes and smiled back. You walked over and sat across from her taking the tea and thanking her.

Stirring it around you realized the tea smelt...odd? Shrugging it off as being nervous you took a sip as Alma watched you intensely. You felt a bit awkward and scared by her odd behavior, but that just prompted you to finish the whole drink in a matter of seconds.

Oh dear, that was a terrible idea. You felt like puking, it was getting terribly hard to breathe and you can't tell if its the heat or the weird aftertaste the tea had. You fell to the floor coughing violently as Alma rushed over to you and started to pat your back. Slowly, you tried to look at Alma but you just started to cough more until you felt lightheaded.

You felt yourself being lifted up and carried away. Resisting the urge to close your eyes, you looked at Alma and saw that she was looking back at you with a smile on her face.

You wanted to scream, to yell for help, anything, but you slowly succumbed to the pain and closed your eyes.

"Don't worry, my love. I will take great care of you, don't worry anymore. You are forever mine.

A/n: Honestly I felt like this may have been kind of disappointing for the wait but I really did not want to make you guys wait any longer. Thank you all for the support and I hope you will enjoy it! I might write a part two tbh...

[larkace]

Robber Claws

hi guys! i've read a bunch of your fics and got inspired so i wrote a thing! enjoy ;) also, it's pretty long so...buckle up! love yall <3

The criminals lurk in the mist, invisible, but Sofiya Pavlichenkov knows they’re there.

She’s perched in the Lookout’s nest of her Warship in Fourth Harbour, pretending to read the documents her first mate, Kastor, has just handed to her. But her blue coat is flapping in the wind and her papers keep jostling and she’s being watched, all of which is rather uncomfortable.

Idly, Sofiya wonders what the criminals might want. A smuggling, perhaps? Out and away from stinking, crawling, loathsome Ketterdam?

Sofiya hates this city. His city. She misses Ravka, her homeland- the Little Palace.

I miss my bloody Kefta, Sofiya thinks darkly as another bought of wind spirals harshly through the Harbour. The blue coat she wears is a subtle nod to her Tidemaker status, but it’s a sad, thin piece of cloth compared to the grandeur of the Fabrikator-made Keftas. But Sofiya can’t wear her Kefta, not if she wants to blend in in Kerch- a lesson she learned long ago…

Old enemies, Sofiya. Old enemies, but not withered grudges.

Huffing out a sigh that would make Zoya Nazyalensky proud, Sofiya rises gracefully to her feet.

They’re coming. She can feel it; they’re making their way towards the ship. They don’t have to be rowdy to intimidate, that’s for sure - or to make a crowd of Merchants and Thieves part like the sea almost immediately.

Sofiya reaches up behind her head and loops her hand around a piece of knotted rope; takes a deep, steadying breath.

And she steps off the platform into the open air.

For a moment, she catches on the air as if a Squaller has caught her on a buffering breeze, but sure enough, gravity kicks in.

Sofiya welcomes the feeling of her stomach in her throat as the fall takes hold, zipping her past the sails. It's good preparation, anyway, for the three dark figures moving up the docks towards her.

As they near and Sofiya lands lightly on the deck, she confirms what she already knew: these were criminals. Her criminals.

The trio stops in front of her. They're all wearing black and gold - not a uniform exactly, but it’s a solid way to show your allegiance. None of their hands were visible, but if they were, Sofiya would find the Robber Claws emblem branded cleanly onto the backs of their knuckles. Their hoods are drawn up over their faces, but Sofiya can tell from their posture who she’s dealing with.

"Ah, Iseut," Sofiya says serenely, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

The girl in the middle pulls down her hood, revealing shining blond hair, dark eyes, full lips. She doesn’t smile.

"Where have you been, Sofiya?" Iseut asks coolly.

"The Wandering Isle," Sofiya answers immediately, "I stopped at Os Kervo on my return to pick up some supplies. I'm only three days late, Is. Cut me some slack."

Iseut sighs, and suddenly looks less the badass, fake-waitress man-killer, and more the tired mother of a delinquent child. Sofiya feels a flicker of guilt.

She had stopped at Os Kervo for more than one reason. The "supplies" were crates upon crates of commandeered Fjerdan weapons and traps, intercepted by the First Army on their way to the Front Line. Sofiya had paid nothing to take them off the hands of the Ravkan soldiers, who honestly had no clue where to send them. What good were jerky Fjerdan guns to a sophisticated, well-oiled Second Army legion?

Sofiya could picture Zoya's face at the sight of the sad little weapons. Disgust and disdain, unshakable beauty - and perhaps just a little bit of pride that her friend had been the one to collect the Fjerdan cargo. Sofiya would work on selling it all later. She'd dump the Grisha traps in the ocean, though. Drown them like they deserved to be drowned.

"I am sorry, Iseut," Sofiya says, and her words aren’t mistruths.

"Don't apologise to me," Iseut says dismissively, "It’s your friends that were barely able to sleep the past few nights. You should talk to -"

"Destry," Sofiya's words mist the air like a fine rain, "I know."

One of the tall figures stood behind Iseut lowers her own hood. Lyra. Ly.

It made sense that the Robber Claws would send their best Bruisers to Fourth Harbour. Sofiya knew by the other Robber's posture that beneath the hood, she would find the face of Winter. But Winter wouldn't lower her hood in front of so many people, so Sofiya was content with what she could get.

"You really had Destry worried, Sof," Ly says, chastising.

"Destry can handle me being gone for weeks on end," Sofiya crosses her arms. She will not be guilt-tripped, "This job was half a week, and I was only a few days off schedule. I did tell Cherry that I'd be late." The words come out as a question.

None of them say anything.

Another flash of worry courses through Sofiya. Cherry Vlasova is a Heartrender, and one of Sofiya's closest friends. The message that Sofiya had forwarded was simple and concise: I'll be a few days late. Stopping at Os Kervo. Don't worry, no Fjerdans. Tell Destry -S.P

Had something happened to Cherry? She was an avid gossiper; her post box was always full of tip-offs (a useful source of information for the Robber Claws) but Sofiya was reliably informed that her letters were always placed on the top of the pile. Marked "URGENT."

"What happened? Is Cherry alright?" Sofiya demands.

Iseut holds up her palms, and they are callused and grease-marked. Sometimes Iseut is so well put together that Sofiya forgets she's a barmaid.

"Cherry is fine. But all our Grisha are shaken. Whilst you were away, there was an attack on the East Stave."

Sofiya's heart stops and restarts and stops again.

An attack. On the Grisha. And she wasn’t there to - to help, to defend-

"Destry," Sofiya breathes, "And Cherry - and Adali, Roza, Linnea, Yan, Anya- oh, Saints, was it the Fjerdans?"

There are many Grisha members of the Robber Claws. It was one of the reasons that Sofiya wanted to join them in the first place. If the Fjerdans had attacked -

"Everybody is fine," Ly says lowly, "We had Freya and May fixing people up as soon as we heard- and Lita, of course, but behind the scenes."

Freya and May- and even Lita, whose powers most of the gang didn't even know of. Grisha Healers. So people had been hurt.

"What. Happened." Sofiya growls, and Ly glares at her challengingly, fists clenching. The water beneath the decking froths and bubbles as Sofiya brings her own fists together, power surging pleasantly up her arms. If Ly wants a fight, she can have one.

"Calm down, both of you," Winter's smooth voice projects from under her hood. Despite the heavy fabric, her voice is clear and commanding. Sofiya takes a breath to compose herself.

"To answer your previous question: no. It wasn't the Fjerdans." Iseut says, "We don’t know what they were."

Sofiya's brow creases at the chime of fear in Iseut's voice. She's never seen the golden-haired barmaid afraid before.

It begins to rain softly, the pattering of droplets quiet against the wooden decking of the docks.

"We should go back to the Queen’s Head, Iseut," Ly suggests, referencing Iseut’s place of work. Iseut nods once, swiftly, and glances over Sofiya's shoulder at her warship.

"Do you need to...?"

"Yes."

"Go on, then."

"KASTOR! IM GOING FOR A ROUND OF DAY-DRINKING!" Sofiya yells over the shoulder of her rain-splattered coat. She hears Ly chuckle as Kastor's scruffy head pokes out from a window.

He nods at Sofiya when he spots her, and she waves, assenting. Kastor would keep everything safe whilst she was gone. It was their unspoken agreement, unchanging and unwavering since the day they'd become crewmates.

Sofiya turns back to Iseut, Ly and Winter.

"Let's be on our way," she says, and lets her fellow criminals lead the way along the Harbour, her warship disappearing into the mist behind her.

~~~~

The mid-day slump of customers meant that the Robber Claws had the Queen’s Head pub all to themselves.

Iseut- who did not own the pub, but had put more work into it than the real owners ever did- had immediately trekked behind the bar and poured herself a whisky.

"Want anything?" She asks, directing the question directly at Sofiya despite the equal presence of Ly- and Winter (who had lowered her hood slightly now that she was back on familiar ground, with familiar faces.) Bruisers didn’t drink on the job. It slowed reflexes.

"The story," says Sofiya firmly, "It a joke about the day-drinking. What happened?"

Iseut pours herself another whiskey and the quartet take a seat at a shady little circular table in a quiet corner. The murmurs of other Robber Claws members is enough to shelter their conversation from the group- despite Sofiya being sure she was the only one unaware of what had transpired the days she’d been gone.

As Iseut begins her story, with Winter and Ly regularly interjecting with additions, Sofiya feels horror and fear clamp down on her heart like a Fjerdan Grisha trap.

Iseut’s alluring voice weaves a tale of Komedie Brute actors in bloody masks, rose-painted rubble from an impossible explosion, and worst of all: Grisha. Dead Grisha, killed by creatures with screeching metal wings.

“Only a few of our Grisha were hurt,” Iseut sips her drink solemnly, “We took your advice of keeping them anonymous and undercover. We have Erin and our other spies out searching for answers at the embassies. I’m sure you’re just as eager to find out about the winged creatures as we are.”

Sofiya nods, “I am. Thank you for filling me in, Is, really. And to you, Ly, Winter. I know you don’t like going to far from the West Stave.”

The last comment was directed purely at Winter. It’s not a lie. Winter runs a dojo for training Kerch’s women to protect themselves from Barrel bosses and scum alike; she didn’t want her clients finding out about her… Robber side. Being a criminal wasn’t the most unintimidating, friendly persona to have when speaking with vulnerable women.

Sofiya respected Winter and her clean profession. It was hard to be so kind in the Barrel. And men were rarely kind to women at all.

Sofiya knew that first hand.

Shoving away the memories- blue eyes, dark hair, gorgeous smile, charming words and sharper wounds- Sofiya stands in one fluid movement.

“I’m going to find Destry,” she says. Iseut stands, Ly and Winter falling back to flank her again, and smiles. She’s beautiful, that is undoubtful, but the attacks- the sleazy men at the Queen’s Head, the strain of the city- it’s all gotten to her. Sofiya can see it.

This city is poison, thinks Sofiya as Iseut takes her hand and shakes it. Poison and rot.

“Destry will be in her rooms,” Ly supplies, and Sofiya nods at her once.

Sofiya grins brightly, hoping it covers her own weariness, and recites, “Fair winds.”

“Bright stars,” chorus her friends. Sofiya waves over her shoulder as she slips out of the bar and down an alley. Above her, a storm brews in the clouds.

Perhaps the stars would be out that night. It didn’t matter. Nobody in Kerch saw the stars anymore.

~~~~

On her way to Destry’s apartments, Sofiya ran into more members of the Robber Claws.

Malcolm and Firefly, who lived together in shared housing in the Anvil, were shopping for new blacksmiths’ equipment. They each provided invaluable services to the Robber Claws, crafting flawless weapons second only to that of Fabrikators. They greeted her with a wink each. Sofiya moved on swiftly after trading them a Wandering Isle-crafted staff for twenty Kruge.

She picked up some baked goods on the way. She would need them. Destry- who had been her closest friend since she arrived in Kerch- was an Inferni. Fire-bringer; with an even fierier temperament. Rumour had it- and Sofiya knew the rumours were true- that Destry had been attending the University of Ketterdam when she’d heard a boy make a lude comment during an exam and lit the paper on fire with her mind. And that paper had been thrown. At the boy’s face. Ouch.

Sofiya had been nursing a whiskey in a tavern when she’d first heard the story recounted. She’d leapt up from her seat, slithered into an alley and held the recounter at knifepoint until he’d told her Destry’s name.

They’d become fast friends upon meeting. Sofiya had been in awe of someone so rebellious, so brave as to set fire to an exam paper, and Destry- well. Destry had laughed for hours when Sofiya had told her how she’d first come across her name.

But now, staring up at the ornate windows of Destry’s apartment, Sofiya feels unsure. She didn’t mean to worry her friend. Iseut had explained that her letter must have gotten lost during the riots. Sofiya cursed the post offices. So there was a deadly storm- your motto is still “We always deliver.”

Despite her trepidation, Sofiya’s feet were swift on the stairs. She had a key to the apartment, and didn’t hesitate to unlock the door and slip inside without a sound, content to watch Destry whilst she worked; even if only for a moment.

Leaning against the wall, Sofiya’s brow creases as she surveys her friend. Destry’s hair is plaited carefully into two loops at the nape of her neck, hazel strands freeing themselves gently against her light brown skin. She’s stood facing away from Sofiya, arms circled in rings of fire. The shirt she wears is Fabrikator-made; the flames don’t take to the papery material.

Sofiya takes a step forward, and pointedly drops her bag of confectionary on the floor. It lands with an audible thump.

Destry whirls, the fire at her wrists whirling into an inferno ready to strike- until Destry sees who is at her door.

“Shouldn’t have hesitated, Des,” Sofiya said weakly, “I could have put a knife in your back.”

The shock on Destry’s face dissolves. Her face splinters down the middle. Licks of fire at her fingertips wilt into ash in a pile at her boot-clad feet.

“You would have put out the flames with your water, I’m sure,” Destry says, and then flies across the room towards Sofiya, wrapping her in a tight, smoke-smelling embrace.

Sofiya would normally pull back. “Don’t be too open with your heart, Des,” she’d say, “People use your loves against you here.” But Sofiya couldn’t bring herself to say those things. The weight of the week comes crashing down on her head like a tsunami.

Fjerdan traps on my boat, attacks on my gang, tensions in Ravka boiling over… where’s safe anymore, except here?

Destry pulls back slightly to scan Sofiya’s face. She has a smear of oil on her cheek. Destry’s eyes are filled with fire, burning like an ember beneath onyx waters.

“Where. Have. You. Been.”

“Destry-”

“Don’t you make excuses with me, Pavlichenkov,” Destry snarls, “You didn’t warn us you were late! I couldn’t sleep- neither could Cherry!”

“I-”

“We thought you’d been caught, Sofi,” Destry cries, “We thought the Fjerdans had got you! I thought you died.”

The word is ugly and big in the room, choking Sofiya’s response. Death. Dying. Dead. And by Fjerdan hands. It wasn’t so rare for travelling Grisha to be caught and sent to the pyres.

“I’m sorry,” Sofiya says, because it’s the only thing there is, “I wrote- I really did, don’t look at me like that- according to Lyra, there was a storm in the True Sea. The letter sunk with the ship.”

“You’re a Tidemaker,” Destry huffs.

“Yes, which means I manipulate water,” Sofiya says, “Not stop it from overturning ships with important letters on them. Destry, I’m sorry. I brought waffles.” She offers the last sentence like a defendant on trial with the Stadwatch; one final piece of evidence to prove her innocence.

Destry brightens immediately, “Well, in that case.”

The pair of them set to work, shoulders just brushing in the cramped kitchenette. Sofiya’s array of pasties are laid out over two plates, which they lay on their laps. Destry’s job for the Robber Claws is, in few words, that of the logician. Papers are scattered all over her apartment, covered in detailed blueprints and scale drawings of buildings all over Ketterdam, Fjerda and even- rarely- Shu Han. There were no drawings of Ravka.

If Iseut had ever commissioned a robbery in Ravka, Sofiya didn’t know about it. It would be…unwise to hit out at the Ravkans, with so many Grisha in the gang.

But Destry’s job was essential, so Sofiya couldn’t complain about the lack of trays to put their plates on. Such things were useless for such an incredible mind as Destry’s.

“So,” says Destry conversationally as she lights the fireplace with a casual flick of her wrist, “How were the Wandering Isles?”

Sofiya says nothing, massaging her temples lightly. Destry manages a laugh.

“Your silence is telling, Sofi,” she warns.

Sighing quietly, suddenly feeling very tired, Sofiya says, “It was crawling with our Fjerdan friends from the North. ‘Peaceful’ Fjerdans.”

Destry spins, and she is outlined with the fire. We’re opposites, Sofiya thinks. Fire and Water.

“You didn’t-” Destry begins, horrified.

Silently, solemnly, Sofiya raised her palms to face the ceiling. Destry reaches out.

Her gentle fingers trace the scars there. Deep and painful and barely healed, the scars run red against Sofiya’s pale flesh.

“Sofiya…” Destry breathes.

“It was the only way to push my power down,” Sofiya whispers. She’s rarely so emotive, but Destry is someone she trusts with everything. It was a weakness, some would say, but they were each powerful Grisha. They were Gods in a world of men. And they would not kneel “If I hadn’t, I would’ve been caught. It was a price to pay.”

Grisha shone like lighthouses around people. In Kerch, in Ketterdam, it was safer for them- especially ones loyal to a gang, as Destry and Sofiya were. But in the Wandering Isles; where Fjerdans passed through on their way to Novyi Zem, where gang affiliations mattered less than the colour of your eyes… Sofiya tells herself she had no choice.

“Sofiya, you’ve opened up old wounds here,” Destry says, tracing the marred skin of her palms again, “You need a healer. Freya, Lita, May-”

“Wouldn’t understand,” Sofiya finished, pulling her hands out of Destry’s and placing them carefully in her lap, obscuring them with her coat, “They’re healers, Des, not warriors- they’d go to Iseut.”

Iseut. Their unofficial leader, the founder, the lighthouse in raging seas. All of the Robber Claws seemed to be caught in her gravity. She was their sun. And Sofiya… well, Sofiya was the moon. Iseut would send her to a healer, one who would stop her travels. One who would commandeer her Warship, and Kastor… health of the mind was important to Iseut.

But Sofiya was not damaged, as they would tell her. She was not broken. Her mind was sound.

I did what I had to do, to survive.

But Destry can see through it all. Through the mask, through her eyes, right to her bones. Through to her lying, treacherous heart. We’re all broken in the end.

But.

Oh, Destry, Destry, please…

“I won’t tell her,” Destry promises, “But I’d like you to know that I think you should. Tell her, that is- Iseut. She might help.”

“She might ship me back to Ravka,” Sofiya grumbles, biting into a toasty croissant.

“Oh, she wouldn’t.”

“You never know.”

“She’ll want you to heal, that’s all.”

“Yes,” Sofiya rolls her eyes, “But these wounds are of the flesh. The scars on my heart will never heal, not in this life Perhaps there will be mercy in the next, even for my rotten soul.”

“You sound like you’re auditioning for the Komedie Brute,” Destry laughs.

“Mother, Father, pay the rent!” Sofiya crows.

“I can’t my dear, the money’s spent,” Destry choruses instinctively.

Sofiya wipes away an invisible tear, “Gorgeous! We’ll make an actress out of you, yet, Destry Clements.”

“Oh, you most certainly will not,” Destry huffs.

Their laughter fills the air, and Sofiya thinks that maybe there is hope for her rotten soul, after all.

~~~~

The man returns late from the pub wearing only one shoe.

A bottle drained halfway of mauve liquid dangles limply from his pale fingers. The veins in his foot are blue in the half-moon’s light.

He slurs a broken melody. She catches a few words as he passes below her on the street.

“Hmm… perish… light… air… fire… hell… hmmm…”

The man’s name is Danyl Harrop. And he is going to die tonight.

“Hmm… shadow… devil… rot… earth… sun… burn… lose….”

Harrop continues down the road, heedless of the mud on his bare foot. He'd be blackout drunk in the morning if he survived.

He wouldn’t.

Silent as a breeze, steps as soft as downy feathers, she leaps from the streetlight where she was perched.

She strikes.

She is ash and shadow. She is a storm of fire. She is vengeance.

She is death.

Harrop yelps as she pins him against the tree. His face is as white as the moon, with eyes like black craters.

“What’re you doi-” he slurs dazedly, but she silences him with a wave of her hand. He blubbers like a fish on land as he tries to shout for help.

“For King and Country,” says the girl. Stepping away from Harrop, she lets her power hold him against the tree, keeping his muscles upright. She surveys him like an artist would their unfinished masterpiece.

The girl whispers, “Sleep tight, Danyl.”

Flicking her wrist, she snaps his neck. He’s still alive, barely, so she latches on to what little of his mind there is left and strips it like an onion. For a man who is out so late, so drunk, on what the girl remembers as a work-day, he knows too much.

Secrets. They feed this girl, nourish her. There is a skip in her step as she turns away from Harrop; without her supporting his muscles, he collapses against the tree. She leaves his mind just as it goes dark.

There is no need to hide in the treetops upon her return to the city. It gleams just half a mile away, most of which is roiling seawater. As the girl wanders along the road back to Ketterdam, she finds Danyl Harrop’s shoe in a puddle of mud. The girl laughs at the sky. She flips a coin into the shoe, whispers a heartless prayer to her Saints, and moves on.

Back to Ketterdam. Back home.

~~~~

Ok, so that's that! I left it on a bit of a cliffhanger... I may have created a whole plot... so there might be some more coming soon!

all these excellent characters (save Sofiya, Danyl, Kastor and the girl at the end who kills Danyl- who has no name... yet *wink*) belong to the following:

Iseut is @littlegirldorothea's

Destry is @finnick-annie's (I may have made them besties👀👀)

Cherry is @brekkercookie's (they are ALSO besties👀👀 we have a trio omg)

Winter is @cressjacquine's

Lyra is @no-mourners-at-my-funeral's

Malcom is @blackpheonix’s

Firefly is @ask-shadowbon’s

Erin is @lightningboytytonjesper’s

Adali is @apple-bottom-jeansx’s

Roza is @vampire-rights’s

Linnea is @alonlyfangirl's

Yan is @lucentcorrigan’s

Anya is @queenlilith43’s

Freya is @smol-evil-gremlin’s

Lita is @the-whispers-of-moonlight’s

May is @saltyfortunes

and the "Fair winds, bright stars" motto as created by @spicy-tomato-sauce's

oh and the whole Grishaverse is the wonderful @lbardugo's <3

if I missed anyone or you want to tag anyone go ahead!