#damn it hamlet you got me again

[pommedepersephone]

I fell into the rabbit hole of Hamlet.

See, I am actually taking a course on performance theory and YOU KNOW they use Hamlet for examples repeatedly. So I dusted off my copy from high school which was... a long ass time ago. And I started rereading it.

And hot damn, NO WONDER this is a favorite of Aziraphale.

Conflicted over your role in a corrupt system?

Filled with fear from living in a surveillance state?

Feeling trapped in a play within a play?

Torn between love and duty?

Yeah, of course Aziraphale saw Hamlet and was like "Relatable."

[klausinamarink]

based on this hilarious video with Gianmarco Soresi whom I’ve been watching his comedy work for a few months now

read on ao3

“What do you do?” The standup of the hour - the guy had introduced himself as Eddie - points at Steve.

Flustered at the attention directing every eye in the club to his table, Steve tries not to stammer as he answers, “Well, uh, I make movies.”

“Oh!” Eddie genuinely looks interested. “So you’re a director?”

“Yeah, pretty much. At least I started out as an indie, but I have a big project that’s out and a couple more on the way.” One table nearby claps and Steve tries to wave them off to stop.

“So what was that big project? Was it something we would’ve seen?” Eddie repositions himself so he has one leg up on the stool. Steve stares at how lean they seem with the tight black jeans. He’s got them daddy long legs. His brain suddenly burps out and it nearly makes Steve lose his composure.

“Uh, ha, I did The Final Bat. It’s on Shudder.” Steve shrugs nonchalantly, perfectly hiding his internal cringe. The horror genre is way out of his league and Steve’s already seen The Final Bat being on a few critical lists damning the title as another cliche-filled mess. He only did it because he had finally caved to Dustin’s pleading to make at least one horror movie.

Eddie, on the other hand, seems ecstatic by this revelation. “No way! That’s sick, dude! So the next time you make a horror flick, you’re gonna watch Blumhouse and A24 coming in at each other with steel chairs for distribution rights.”

Everyone laughs, including Robin. She smacks on Steve’s bicep with a wide grin. He smacks her back before he turns back to Eddie and clarifies, “I don’t like horror! I’m not doing it again!”

Aghast, Eddie throws an invisible hat to the ground and stamps on his feet. “Come on! Then what’s the point of watching the studios bite each other’s dicks off when you’re slipping out to watch - I don’t know - the Barbie movie! Now they’re just fighting for the next shitty horror movie to exist!”

Steve covers his mouth but fails to hold back in the laughter. Eddie’s infectious energy is starting to get to him. It makes his chest clench with something other than the usual pains.

Eddie patiently waits for the patrons to quiet down before continuing, still attentive to Steve, “I’m just wondering actually if you ever done theater class.”

“Sure did! Two years in high school,” Steve confirms.

“Let me guess, they did Hamlet?” Eddie raises an eyebrow like it’s meant to be accusatory.

“Yep, soon after I joined.” Steve nods, the memory of that production flashing before his eyes. It had its ups and downs but it was one of the most fun things Steve had ever experienced.

“No wonder they started as soon as your handsome ass walked in the club.” Eddie says low and flirtatiously into the microphone, staring directly into Steve’s eyes. It echoes across the room and back, bringing the howling laughter with it.

Heat crawls behind his face. Steve keeps his hands on the table, forcing down the urge to hide behind them. “I-” He stops to cough, “I wasn’t supposed to play Hamlet.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, “What do you mean?!”

Robin answers loud enough for everyone to hear, “He was the grave robber, but the other guy who did Hamlet got into a coma a week before the show and Steve knew all the lines.”

“W-Woah, woah, woah!” Eddie holds his hands out, looking scandalous. He throws looks around the club. “Everyone, shut the fuck up right now! This is more important than caring about the rest of you!” Eddie drags the stool over and perches on it like a very much invested gargoyle, almost oblivious to the audience’s reaction.

“Okay, let me go through this.” He points at Steve, still holding eye contact as if Steve’s soul would provide the answer. “You weren’t Hamlet. You were meant to be the guy who gives him the skull to monologue. The OG Hamlet got into a coma for some reason-“

“Car accident.” Robin interjects.

“Yeah, no need to elaborate, ma’am. You, Steve-” Eddie breaks off for a second, holding back a laugh of his own. “You somehow knew all the Hamlet lines because you were waiting to skin OG Hamlet’s head and make his skull yours to do the monologue.”

There’s a scandalous outcry from all tables. Even when they mostly calm down, Steve uses the growing anticipation to ‘think’ about what Eddie just said before he casually shrugs and says, “Sounds about right.”

Eddie drops his face into his arm, letting everyone laugh at him. Steve lets himself break, his laughter bubbling out of him in a way that doesn’t sound so self-deprecating or hollow. If he was in a cynical mood, he would’ve thought it was pathetic that the only person who made him laugh so lightly again was some random standup.

After a moment, Eddie finally looks up, his face broken in disbelieving grin. He chuckles into the mic and looks back at Steve, “Sorry, it’s just I hear some wild stories in the crowd some nights and I think yours takes the cake.”

Steve smiles, “Thanks, man.”

Eddie stands up back, half-leaning onto the stool. “Do you still remember those lines? To be or not to be?”

The whole damn thing. “Uh… some of it?”

Eddie’s grin shifts into something more mischievous. “Let’s see who knows more.”

A collective oooh goes around the room, including Robin. She already has her phone out for recording. Steve rolls his eyes at her and takes a quick sip of his water. He clears his throat and starts, “‘To be or not to be, that is the question.’”

“‘Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune..’” Eddie says without missing a beat.

Oh, he thinks he knows it all. The sense of competition that Steve thought had died out with his future of a sports career reignites in his chest. He sits up even straighter. “‘Or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them.’”

“‘To die-to sleep, no more.’” Eddie slowly walks over to the edge of the stage, “‘And by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.’”

“'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd.’” Steve almost shivers as he recites the line, uncertain if it’s from the club’s cooling temperatures or the intense gaze from Eddie’s eyes. “‘To die, to sleep.’”

“‘To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub,’” Eddie suggestively rubs a hand on his chest as he squats down. Steve’s eyes flicker to the hand, almost hypnotized by the motion. Nay, he shakes himself out of it. No distractions!

“‘For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil.’” It’s getting harder to remember the following lines. That hasn’t happened before. Steve has never forgotten the damn soliloquy in years, even when other people try to challenge him.

Eddie continues, “‘Must give us pause—there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely.’”

“‘The pangs-’” Steve feels his breath catching in his throat when he realizes, for the first time, what beautiful eyes Eddie has.

Oh. 

Eddie suddenly perks up in excitement. For a second, Steve thinks that Eddie has come to the exact same thoughts for him. But then he remembers that he hasn’t completed his line, so Steve feigns defeat.

“I win!” Eddie stands up with a triumphant cry. He spreads his arms out to embrace the cheering whoops and applause. “And I’ve only got to play Hamlet in-” He spins around and crouches down so he can look Steve in the eye again as Eddie’s voice booms into the mic, “-FOURTH GRADE, MOTHERFUCKER!” 

Steve’s not even mad. He just throws his head back, laughing and clapping along. 

Almost too soon, Eddie moves on to heckle on another table. But he keeps glancing over at Steve, his smile widening every time. And Steve smiles back, feeling a laugh slip out of his slips at every joke. He watches Eddie more closely, feeling his heart pound faster in his chest the more Eddie stays onstage. 

By the time Eddie has to depart and thank everyone for being here, Robin announces her need to go home and snuggle with her girlfriend. 

“Man, that was the most I’ve ever laughed in this place.” Steve stretches his back, groaning at the little pops. God, being in his early thirties can be a bitch sometimes.

Robin only hums, moving her eyebrows up and down suggestively. Steve pointedly makes no further comment as he pays the tab.

Outside, the crisp night air welcomes him. Steve takes in a whiff, staring up at the light-polluted sky as he bids Robin a goodbye. Then he hears his name being called. He turns around and sees Eddie hurrying out the doors.

Steve feels a smile already on his face, “Hey, Hamlet.” 

Eddie grins at him, teeth and all, “Hey, yourself.” 

They stare at each other but it lacks the competitive intensity earlier. Steve likes this. But he already has a feeling that this won’t be the first time either one of them would challenge the other.

“Sooo…” Steve says when the silence stretches a little too long. He gestures between himself and Eddie, “Wanna restart our introductions?”

Eddie’s eyes brighten, “Yeah! Right, sorry.” He clears his throat and thrusts a hand out. “My name is Eddie Munson. Self-proclaimed comedian and musician. You may recognize me as the guy who beat you in Hamlet’s famous speech.”

Steve takes his hand. Eddie feels bony and thin, but large enough to fit perfectly into Steve’s palm. He tries not to sound so eager as he says, “Steve Harrington. Film director who doesn’t like horror. Believe it or not, I actually know the whole stupid thing.”

Eddie tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, “Really? Like, no offense, but even if you remember that much-”

“‘And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action.’” Steve winks with the Harrington Charm, smile and all. 

Eddie stares at him for so long that Steve feels his heart racing for a different reason. And then, Eddie turns around and muffles a loud scream into his free hand. When the man turns back to face him, he’s sporting the widest smile Steve has never seen.

“You knew the whole thing!?” Eddie’s eyes sparkle with utter adoration.

“Yep.” Steve pops the ‘p’, grinning like a little shit.

“But why did you forget that line?”

“Let’s just say,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand, intertwining their fingers together, “I got distracted by the pangs of love.”

Eddie bites on his lower lip as he swoons his body over so they are pressing against each other. With half-lidded eyes, Eddie whispers, “You know that part is Hamlet referring to missing his dead dad, right?”

Of course Steve couldn’t help but kiss him.

[allieebobo]

Do you have any if recommendation?

Ooh! I have really, really bad memory(!!) but these are current faves that I have played/replayed recently that I can think of. A lot of the authors are also THE BEST HUMAN BEINGS EVER. So, double recommendation.

I probably missed a bunch out, so take this as a non-exhaustive list! In no particular order:

(Edit: Added some descriptions but yeah I got a little unhinged so I'm sorry nothing makes sense or if the quality of the write-up went down over time/did not actually give you any useful info)

WIPs with demos

Citadel, @bouncyballcitadel (I think of all the IFs on this list, this one makes me sweat the most. And I've said it once and I'll say it again: the dialogue is so snappy and well-written, and characters are SO DAMNED LOVEABLE.)

Infamous, @infamous-if (I've been manifesting Band/Musician IFs for the longest time, and then this popped up! I've even played Choice of a Rockstar, that's how desperate I was... Anyway, this is legions better than that. Angsty ex routes are my kryptonite, and Seven is just. Inevitable.)

Defiled Hearts: The Barbarian, @defiledheartsblog (I went into this wanting something juicy and fun/historical—and it's all of those things, but I didn't expect it to be so damned funny, too. The ROs are all impeccable.)

Raiders of the Caravan and Apartment 3-3, @leftski-if (A'ight listen, fantasy slice-of-life is my fave genre, and these are IT. Like, everything I never knew I needed in my life, and SO cozy/wholesome, with a cast of characters that I want to befriend in real life.)

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: An Affair of the Heart @doriana-gray-games (First off, the customization in this game is INSANE, and the branching too. I've replayed a couple of times and the little variations I discover each time just blows my mind. Secondly, it's so funny and written so well. Ngl I'm not a Sherlock fan but that's just testament to how amazing this IF is.)

When Life Gives You Lemons, @when-life-gives-you-lemonssss (Modern slice-of-life with an adorable kid, a bunch of hot ROs, CC. Hill's humor, what can I say?)

Golden @milaswriting (Really interesting world-building, one of the coolest fictional cities I've read in an IF, AND I'm obsessed with the ROs, in particular K de la Renta. Also Mila is such an awesome writer, I'm beyond excited for @beyondthegame.)

A Tale of Crowns @ataleofcrowns (This game is beautiful, polished, and SO exciting. Honestly, it looks like the kind of game created by a whole-ass game studio and would cost $50 to buy, it's that good. I really got swept up by this IF—probably played it all in one go.)

Rougi @rougi-if (Again, another game with scrumptious visuals/UI and also is just so well-crafted. I love the premise too, it's so original and fresh.)

Scout: An Apocalypse Story @anya-dev (Unfortunately this one might be on hiatus but I am/was really, really obsessed.)

Wayfarer @idrellegames (Love the game mechanics of this one, and the visuals. Probably controversial, but I like the D&D / random dice effect. And I also like the fact that it feels like an old-school RPG.)

Chop shop @losergames (The premise is all I needed to be sold, really—I'd always wanted to buy GTA as a kid but my parents were like NO WAY. Anyway, this IF did not disappoint, and let me live all my childhood dreams.)

Edit: AHH! How could I forget, one of my recent faves, Folksaga @folksaga-if (Lush atmospheric writing, super unique premise—norse mythology, plus I'm head over heels for Katla).

Completed IFs

Butterfly Soup 1 and 2 @brianna-lei (these are completed and I will never not promote them. Honestly the most adorable, wholesome, funny sports/coming-of-age IF I've read)

Elsinore: After Hamlet @lapinlunairegames (Insanely cool premise, insanely cool execution)

The Thick Table Tavern @manonamora-if (I love bar/tavern games, and this one actually lets you mix drinks! Instant fave.)

Other HGs/COGs I love: Slammed, Tin Star, Fallen Hero, If it pleases the court, A Player's Heart (these last two are so underrated, though I guess cause it's mainly wlw)

[godsleastfavouritewhiteboy]

it is a good thing for david tennant that the SAG strike is haulting any good omens press tours or con circuits because i would actually have to hunt him down just to corner him at a con booth and ask him why in the "forest of the dead" series 4 episode 9 of doctor who the doctor says to the vashta nerada "Im the doctor and youre in the biggest library in the universe, look me up." and that makes them run away and let him take literally hundreds of meals away from them.

Why does that work david, whats in the books david, what did the doctor do to make shadows that eat people in a microsecond believe that the doctor would be able to - i guess - fucking take them in fisticuffs, because theyve got him cornered in that scene david? why are they so scared david? what did you mean in this line?

i know you didnt write the line but you perform that scene with the same facial mannerisms youve used in hamlet during a descend into madness scene what did you mean when you made that choice david? What do you think was in the books david? i havent cared about doctor who that much since peter capaldis run ended but you know damn well im gonna be watching those three episodes with ten in them next season because I need to see what in the goddamn could compell a character like that.

What did you mean by this choice david?

How could the doctor ever have convinced shadows that eat people that hes scarier than them? i have literally not been able to stop thinking about this episode since i first saw it at 12, david, did you know that this episode would fundamentally affect me david? Did you know that you would make it impossible for me to ever picture the doctor as a hero ever again after that scene david? did you know that i would become fundamentally unable to see any immortal protagonist as a hero ever again david? did you know you would DO THIS TO ME DAVID? DID YOU KNOW THAT YOU THAT I WOULD BE HAUNTED FOREVER BY YOUR FACE DAVID?

WHAT DID YOU MEAN DAVID BY THAT DAVID?

WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT DAVID? WHAT WERE IN THE BOOKS DAVID? WHAT WERE IN THE FUCKING BOOKS DAVID

anyway loved you in good omens can you sign my diary

[steddieas-shegoes]

For your prompt idea request: Either the original line from Hamlet ("Though this be madness yet there's method in it") or the more commonly paraphrased, there's a method to my madness?

The plan would work. It had to.

It wasn’t as dire as their last plan, not even close, but Eddie needed fresh air and Steve and Dustin were going to give it to him, dammit.

He’d been stuck in the hospital room for 27 days — 6 of which were unconscious — and he was desperate to feel a breeze on his face that wasn’t from his cannula falling out of place on his nose.

He didn’t even need the damn thing anymore, but the nurses insisted.

Steve was currently in part 1 of the plan: get Eddie into a wheelchair while Dustin distracted everyone at the nurse’s station with his Gumby limbs.

The wheelchair was stolen from a neighboring room, but the guy was passed out in his bed, so Steve figured it was fair game.

Part 2 was the most difficult part: get Eddie into the elevator across the hall and onto the roof without anyone seeing.

Dustin was certainly great at distractions, but he could only do so much. Doctors and nurses walked up and down the halls every couple of minutes.

They didn’t really have a window of opportunity, but they had to try anyways.

Eddie didn’t know the entire plan, had specifically asked them not to tell him so he could act innocent if they got caught. He didn’t need anymore misplaced vitriol from the staff.

So when Steve managed to actually get him to the elevator, Eddie looked up at him through glassy eyes, the dark circles and bags under them slowly fading as he started to get more sleep at night, and asked where they were going next.

“No questions. Just trust me. There’s a method to my madness,” Steve replied with a pat to his shoulder.

Eddie didn’t say anything in response, just smiled down at his lap and waited to see what was happening next.

When they got to the roof, Eddie’s jaw dropped.

Someone had set up a makeshift picnic on the lone picnic table, including a bottle of sparkling grape juice and Eddie’s favorite foods.

He looked behind him at Steve, who seemed nervous as he walked in front of the chair.

“Hope you don’t mind Dustin isn’t coming up here. I wanted it to be just us.”

Eddie’s breath hitched. Of course, the one time he doesn’t have an oxygen tank with him is when his body would deceive him.

Steve’s hand cupped his cheek and his chest fluttered.

Great, now he was having heart palpitations.

“This isn’t really how I wanted our first date to go, and I never even really asked if you wanted to go on one with me, but-“

“Steve. You did this for me?”

Steve nodded, rubbing his thumb along Eddie’s cheek.

“I wanted you to get the full outside experience. It ain’t much right now, but just you wait. When El closes the last gate, it’ll be paradise.”

“Blue skies and warm sand? The sound of waves crashing?” Eddie teased, turning his face into Steve’s hand to leave a kiss in his palm.

“Probably just a lot of weird smells. But we could go to a beach! I owe the kids a trip.”

Eddie listened and watched as Steve talked for a few minutes about what he wanted to do with the kids, with Eddie.

Eddie finally silenced him with a kiss.

“This method of yours works pretty damn good, Stevie.”

“Ya think?”

Eddie kissed him again.

He didn’t stop until a nurse was opening the roof door and yelling at them both to get back inside before Eddie got hurt.

She did smirk at them both before checking the lock on the door and following them to the elevator, but she hid it quickly when Eddie opened his mouth to say something.

Luckily, on day 39, Eddie was free from the hospital. This time, Steve pushed the wheelchair out the front door, and the breeze on his face tasted like the saltwater of the beach trip waiting for them.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Fireleaf (Part Six)

Lucien Vanserra x Reader

Hiiii! Here's Part Six. Things are heating up! As always, I'm so, so grateful for all the help I get from @greeneyedivy...this chapter has been a long time in the making, and so much of her brilliant brain and time went into helping me with it! 🤣💋

Warnings: SMUT! 🌶️🌶️🌶️

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

Russet eyes stared at the page, not wholly seeing the words.

The same page Lucien had been staring at for the past half an hour. He nibbled at the callused skin of his thumb, brows furrowing as he drank in the second paragraph. Again.

The tempered glow of moonlit skies

Sketched waltzes in his lover’s eyes

And no immortal heart did dance

The way his did, so thoroughly

He glared at the words. Breathed in. Out. And slammed the book shut.The Mother damn it. For once, he didn’t feel like reading. Didn’t feel like anything besides pummelling his fist into one of the nearby trees—

His eyes flickered up. Immediately found that tree, the dent in the bark and the faint smear of blood. He sighed at himself. Tried to rein his thoughts back in, away from straying in that — her — direction, again.

He didn’t know when he’d become so pathetic.

This wouldn’t do. Sitting and ruminating would not do. He’d managed to avoid running into her over the week that had passed since the masquerade; part of him wished he’d stayed in the Spring Court longer than one night. His thoughts were clearer there, the air not so tinged with…with fresh cotton and honeysuckle—

No. He pushed to his feet — kicked a smattering of leaves for good measure — and grabbed his book. Began to drag his feet back the way he’d come.

He could take the short route back, straight across the footpath — end up back inside the warmth of the estate quicker. But in the depths of the trees, the natural scents were stronger; most smells got buried beneath the aromas of pine and bark and earth, no matter how much those smells had shoved their way up Lucien’s nose and made a home there. So he stuck to the densest areas, nearer to the outskirts of the estate.

He heard them before he saw them.

Two pairs of feet, he thought. And Barric‘s voice — crisp and clear.

“One male has reportedly died,” His father’s advisor spoke quietly, gently. “Perhaps more — the fire hasn’t been contained yet.”

A soft, feminine noise came in response — one of distress — and Lucien knew, immediately, that the second pair of feet belonged to his mother. He frowned, not stopping to wonder why, in the damn Cauldron, his mother and Barric had sought such privacy to speak. He was already pushing through the brush, and beholding them where they’d stopped at a wide, towering tree.

“What’s this?” He demanded immediately.

The Lady of Autumn was the first to look up, her wide, brown eyes watery and her pale skin seeming ashen and wan. It made the stark red of her hair stand out even more.

Barric pivoted on the spot and studied Lucien. “You shouldn’t be snooping on conversations.”

Lucien cocked an eyebrow. “I’d hardly call a stroll through the trees snooping. What’s this about a fire?”

The Lady of Autumn wrapped her arms around her slender body; like she was trying to comfort herself. “The little hamlet an hour east — a fire broke out in the early hours of this morning. It seems as though it’s already ravaged half of the houses, and they can’t get it under control.”

Lucien felt his blood run cold. He knew that hamlet — had passed by it multiple times on his travels. A small community of the Lesser Fae lived there; good, hardworking people who didn’t have much to show for all their toil. And for the little they did have to be destroyed before their very eyes—

“We need to inform father,” He was ready, right then, to jump into action. To do…something. “We need to send aid right away. We can contain the fire with our magic, prevent any more loss of life—”

“Lucien.” His mother said softly. She was trembling, her hands shaking as she held herself. “Your father already knows.”

Barric nodded in confirmation. “He was informed. The decision has been made not to send aid.”

Lucien stopped dead. Stared between them. His mind was reeling too much, currently, to consider the anomalies right in front him. How unusual it was for Barric and his mother to be talking about this — and so privately, too. He felt anger flicker inside him as he drank in the timid sight of his mother. The set, unflinching sight of Barric — a male who was content with a decision made.

“Why the fuck not?” Lucien demanded. “If one person has already died—”

“The High Lord has decided not to get involved because the fire was started deliberately.” Barric said. “It’s said that there’s been some unrest throughout the area. Land disputes, or something. Your father is busy enough without having to involve himself in the petty squabbles between the Lesser Fae.”

And there it was. Lucien scoffed incredulously. Such blatant, cold disregard for the people the High Lord deemed beneath him, unworthy of him.

“Petty squabbles?” He gritted out between clenched teeth. “Their livelihoods are burning right before their eyes. They’ll need help. Our help.”

Barric didn’t so much as falter. “The High Lord’s decision is made.”

“Screw this.”

He turned, kicking through leaves and dirt, shoving through the thick brush. He’d kept quiet about his father’s prejudices for far too long, bitten his tongue too many times—

“Lucien.” His mother called behind him, soft, pleading. “What’re you going to do?”

“What he’s too much of a damn coward to do, mother.”

He didn’t give her a chance to call out one more word as he stormed through the trees and headed straight for his father’s office.

⤲

The two guards stationed outside his father’s office door were a sure indication of an important meeting being had inside.

Nox and Auster, their names were. Lucien knew most of his father’s staff by name — had grown particularly fond of these two, in fact. Good, honest young men.

Their faces were grave. Sallow. Nox’s in particular. A cold sheet of anger lay beneath the fear.

He’d grown up in that hamlet. Still had family living there.

“Is he in there?” Lucien nodded to the door, already knowing the answer.

Auster dipped his head. “He’s holding a meeting.” It seemed an effort for him to force out, “You know we can’t let you in.”

“You don’t need to let me. I’m his son.”

The fact that neither of the guards put up any real fight showed exactly how they were feeling right then — uncaring if Lucien did interrupt the High Lord’s meeting. Hopeful, in fact, that he would. He was the only Vanserra that had ever bothered to strike up conversation with them, to get to know them and ask questions. The anger they saw in his eyes, right then, was identical to their own.

They weren’t going to stop him from storming in there. Not really.

And they didn’t, as Lucien flung the door open, causing Beron to falter mid-sentence.

He sat at his desk — and in front of him, Lucien’s four brothers were each perched, listening to their father speak as though none of them had a damn care in the world.

Lucien didn’t care that he hadn’t been invited to whatever this meeting was. Didn’t care that his four brothers had turned in their seats to stare at him. He didn’t bother to glimpse Dion’s concerned expression, or Eris’s inquisitive one, or the glimmering flash of excitement on Jareth’s and Rian’s faces, like they eagerly anticipated a showdown.

He merely stepped into the room. Clenched his jaw and ground out, “Why aren’t you sending aid to the hamlet that is burning down as we speak?”

Beron’s dull eyes were liquid ire as he beheld his youngest son. “You’ve no right to burst in here—”

“Why. Aren’t. You. Sending. Aid.”

“Why should I?” The High Lord shrugged. “Why should I expend my resources and my staff and reward people for acting like brutes?��

“Saving lives is not rewarding people.” Lucien snapped. “They’ll be losing everything right now whilst you sit on your ass—”

“I urge you to watch your tone.” Beron’s voice rose. “If the common folk are unable to behave in a civilised manner, I refuse to get involved. They can sort it amongst themselves.”

The brutality — the utter malice of it…it damn near winded Lucien. Damn near choked the words from his throat. He’d always known that his father was a ruthless, spineless bastard, but to be so uncaring…

“There are children that live in those homes.” Lucien spat. “Innocent children.”

Beron sat back. So casual. So unbothered. “Well. Perhaps the brutes should have considered that before they decided to raze those homes to the ground. Are you done?”

Lucien’s eyes shot to Dion — the one brother he’d always had a quiet respect for. The one who had always seemed to care. “And you’re alright with this?”

Dion’s eyes seemed to flash with…something. But he merely swallowed. Inclined his head. “Father has made his decision.”

Lucien couldn’t…couldn’t stay in this office, this estate, any longer. Not without tearing the whole place apart. He turned on his feet, shaking with rage.

Beron merely called after him. “I’ll hear no more said on the matter, Lucien.”

Lucien didn’t bother with a response – because that was fine. He didn’t want to say anymore, either. He wanted to do – to act.

Whether his pathetic excuse for a father liked it or not.

⤲

He was halfway to the stables when he heard his name being called. He turned, finding both Nox and Auster hot on his trail.

“Don’t even bother to try and stop me.” He gritted his teeth at the two guards. “I respect both of you, and I don’t want to fight—”

“We’re not stopping you.” Nox fell into step with him. “We’re helping.”

Lucien stilled for just a moment. Stared between them. To not only abandon their posts, but to go against their High Lord’s word— “You’ll get into trouble.”

Auster shrugged, his expression fierce. “Then so be it. We trained as Guards with an intrinsic reflex to protect. That doesn’t discriminate. Even if you just need us to stand guard while you help…”

So sad, that the two of them had shown more courage in ten minutes than he’d ever seen from his father, his brothers, in his whole life. Lucien didn’t know why he was still surprised; he’d learned long ago that he, for some reason, seemed to be cut from a different cloth to the other males of his family.

He dipped his chin and nodded. “I’m going to contain the fire with my magic. I’ll need both of you helping with getting people out. With any potential injuries.”

The admiration — and gratitude — that shone in Nox’s eyes was almost too palpable for Lucien to look at. He was one of the newer guards, less hardened by years around brutality. And these were his people that Lucien was putting his neck on the line to save.

“Let’s go.” Lucien squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll do what we can.”

The three of them were nothing but steeled determination as they tore into the barn, damn near startling the stableboys out of their skin. There was no time for his usual pleasantries as Lucien readied his horse. Too much going inside his head. Too much to focus on.

Perhaps that was why, as they mounted their horses and set off like a brisk, relentless gust of wind, he didn’t notice that Dion’s horse was already gone.

⤲

The smell tinged the air from what felt like miles away. Smoke and heat and…something else. Pungent enough to sting all three of their noses. As they grew closer, thick, black smoke billowed up into the sky and shrouded above them like great, winged creatures.

Lucien dreaded considering what the sight of it might be like…such a tiny, modest area engulfed by flames. But they kept the horses galloping and schooled themselves into the calm they needed to face it.

There was no moving fast enough, every movement feeling sluggish as he considered how many more lives may have been lost, how much had already been destroyed. When the hamlet came into view, it was an effort not to stop and gape.

Half of it had been ravaged already. Cracking and popping and shouting rang through the air, and what had once been a home to a small community of hardworking people had been reduced to…to pure chaos. So many people running around, carrying children away from the danger, trying to move the injured, hauling buckets of water back and forth.

Lucien dismounted his horse. Tried to gather his thoughts. Nox and Auster followed suit.

“I need to get straight to the fire and stifle it with my magic,” He turned to the two guards. “Check in with the locals. Find out how many injured we have. And if there’s a healer on site.”

Nox nodded — but Auster was frowning. Frowning over Lucien’s shoulder, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Lucien clasped his shoulder. “I know it’s awful. But we need to keep our heads clear and—”

“That’s…” Auster peered past him. “…Is that Lady Y/N?”

Lucien whipped round so fast, he lost his footing.

His heart thudded an erratic tune as he took in the sight before him. And sure enough — there she was.

Dressed in a loose shirt and breeches, her hair ripping out of an untidy bun at the nape of her neck, she was coated in soot and sweat, her mouth barking stark demands at people as she hauled buckets of water back and forth. She didn’t hesitate – not even slightly – to charge towards the burning buildings, just about managing to keep the water contained in the bucket.

Lucien found himself running after her. Didn’t glance back at Nox or Auster even once as he raced in her direction. She was already disappearing out of sight, and he…his breath hitched as he pushed his legs faster, trying not to run straight into fleeing residents as he searched for where she’d dipped around the side of a building.

He reached the building just as she re-emerged – the bucket now empty – and ran straight into him. Her eyes were so wild, so panicked, that she didn’t seem to realise what she was seeing straight away.

That he, too, had gone against the grain – had decided to come here and help.

Panic was a surprising, feral thing inside of him. He found himself studying her, checking for burns, for anything untoward.

“What in the Cauldron are you doing here?” He blurted, the words emerging from him far angrier than he’d meant. “Are you out of your gods-damn mind?”

She seemed to blink – just for a second. And then she was sidestepping him, using her forearm to wipe sweat from her brow as she hefted the bucket beneath the other arm. “What does it look like I’m doing, Lucien? I’m helping to put out this damned fire!”

Her voice was croaky, raspy; Lucien wasn’t sure whether that was from shouting at the top of her lungs or coughing around the billowing smoke. She continued past him, and he was hot on her trail, making a grab for her arm.

“It’s dangerous.” He snarled.

“Get off your fucking high-horse,” She snapped, ripping away, “And grab a bucket, would you?”

She fell into a run, panting and glistening with sweat as she headed back towards the water pump at the top of the street. And Lucien…Lucien was trying to force his brain to work. Trying to tear his gaze from her. To stifle the bleating panic that was rising in him, urging him to grab her and get her far away from the danger.

He didn’t follow her. He pivoted on the spot, grimacing at the heat that breathed out at him. It seemed to speak to his fire magic, to coax him towards it, like calling to like. He didn’t need buckets of water to contain the flames ravaging the buildings. With one flicker of his magic, entirely self-taught, he could stifle them as easily as he could summon them. He zipped past the building, right towards the heart of the inferno–

“No!”

There were footsteps, a clattering sound – and arms were looping around his waist; arms that felt dainty against the broad expanse of his muscles. But they may as well have been an ironclad grip with the force with which they managed to move him, like he was no more than a light breeze. He was yanked backwards, and he just about managed to glimpse a discarded bucket of water spilling onto the street, and Y/N attempting to keep them both upright as he faltered and fell into her, the breath immediately being knocked out of her.

“Faebane,” She gasped, attempting to move from beneath him. She coughed, her voice sounding even more raw as she managed to choke out, “The fire is infused with Faebane. You can’t…you can’t use magic. Need water.”

“Fuck.” He hissed, hauling himself off of her. He yanked her up in one fluid motion, concerned eyes flicking over her.

So many things were warring in his mind. The first – to get the water; as much of it as possible. But Faebane…that had been the underlying scent mixed up in the smoke and ash that stung the air. He’d not identified it at the time, but…it seemed obvious, now. Its stark, cloying smell.

But not just anybody had Faebane. Certainly not the members of a Lesser Fae community who had zero power and barely two coins to rub together. The chemical was hard to come by, unless you were somebody untouchable. Somebody who could get what they wanted with a few sharp words.

Somebody knowledgeable enough to know that it rendered a person’s powers useless. Rendered them unable to quickly put out a fire before it caused too much destruction.

He shook his head. Tried to block the thoughts out. He couldn’t stand and speculate right now, not with him unable to use magic to help. It’d have to be the longer, harder way.

He was still holding onto her as he grabbed for the bucket and hurried to the water pump. Still gripping onto her hand.

He didn’t know why.

⤲

It was perhaps the most civil they’d ever been with each other.

There was no choice to be anything but as they worked together, hauling bucket after bucket back and forth, dousing the flames in water, helping trapped residents to freedom. Without the help of Lucien’s magic, hours passed by of the two of them working side-by-side, joined by Nox, Auster and the gathering of the hamlet’s residents who took orders and did whatever was needed of them. Day dwindled into evening, taking the light with it — along with their energy, their strength.

The sky was nearly darkened by the time only smouldering cinders remained. The smell in the air was still pungent — the Faebane seeming to be the strongest odour. And aside from the hissing that the burnt, sodden wood gave off, and the low murmur of bleak conversation between the owners of those homes…a heavy, eerie stillness settled through the hamlet that felt like a potent silence.

Lucien collapsed against one of the untouched buildings, scrubbing his hands over his face. He stared through tired eyes at the chaos that lay before them; the blackened, ashy remains of buildings and the smoke that still snaked out of them like shadows. The only mercy was that there were no more lives lost — a small glimmer of positivity that barely held up against the hammering of his weariness. Not just physical exhaustion, but…mental, too. There were a lot of things he needed to work through. A lot of things hammering his brain.

He didn’t like the panic he’d felt — panic over one person in particular. That panic couldn’t mean anything good.

That first glimpse of her earlier that day…when he’d seen her hauling the buckets of water and running towards the threat…he didn’t know how he hadn’t gone to his knees. Didn’t know that he was capable of such…cold anxiety spreading through him.

Even now, his gaze flicked over his surroundings in search of her — even though he was well aware that she was helping the healer with the injured in the inn at the top of the street. He still felt that itchy restlessness to make sure she was unharmed, that she wasn’t forgoing medical treatment that she may need, in favour of helping somebody else. Because she would — she absolutely would. He didn’t know why he hadn’t realised it sooner.

His eyes darted to Nox. Nox, who had shown an unflinching bravery in the face of such terror; something that Beron Vanserra had never done. Auster was currently standing over him, tending to a burn on his arm, and Lucien…Lucien understood the contained worry in Auster’s eyes. The panic over a realisation that it could have been far, far worse. Such a relief, that Nox’s entire family had gotten out safe.

He couldn’t stop himself watching as Auster clasped Nox’s face between his hands and pressed their foreheads together, his worried eyes fluttering shut. Couldn’t stop himself from watching the soft, gentle kiss that the two guards shared; the physical reassurance they needed from each other that they were both okay.

Lucien found his hands clenching at his sides. Like…like he needed that reassuring touch. Needed to know that she was absolutely—

“There would have been further casualties if you’d not come.” An exhausted voice ripped him from his thoughts. The male that stood before Lucien looked as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He bowed his head. “You and the lady, and your guards. We cannot thank you enough.”

He’d been one of the residents that had taken orders and worked alongside them, even as the weight of exhaustion began to drag him down. One of the good, hardworking people that the High Lord looked down upon.

Lucien dipped his chin. “I only wish I could have come sooner.” He shook his head. “Is there any idea as to who would do this?”

The male’s eyes shot to the ground. “…I wouldn’t like to speculate…”

Something about his tone made Lucien bristle. He watched him — the clear indication that this was far bigger than land disputes, as Beron had claimed. “What is it?”

“…There was some…unrest…being rallied by the locals, after the Harvest Festival. People who didn’t appreciate your father’s…dismissal, of their hard work. There was a discussion of riots, and…well, it’s probably unrelated, but…”

But he didn’t need to finish the thought. Because Lucien wouldn’t put it past his father, for one second, to punish people for even thinking about revolting against him. His father, who Lucien knew had a hidden cache of Faebane.

Beron had probably known all along that Lucien would defy him and help those in need. Had probably wielded the Faebane to ensure that Lucien would be unable to quickly put the fires out — unable to limit the damage.

He felt himself go cold under his sweat-coated skin. Felt sickness unfurling inside of him—

But movement lurked in his periphery, and he looked up to find Y/N approaching. She looked just as downtrodden and exhausted as Lucien felt — worse, probably. She wrapped her arms around herself…as though she was trying to hold herself together.

“The healer has things under control.” She rasped, glancing between Lucien and the male. “What do we do now?”

“We—”

Every last one of them was too exhausted, too distracted — too done-in to sense the threat before an awful creaking sound broke through the night, of splintering, breaking wood.

Lucien wasn’t even thinking. He didn’t recall giving his body any direction before he was launching himself into Y/N and knocking her to the ground. The two of them rolled out of the way just as a wooden beam broke from a scorched building, falling right to the spot in which Y/N had stood seconds before.

She groaned — or maybe it was him — and he allowed his body to shield hers for a moment longer, just to check the coast was clear, before he hauled her up with him. Set her on her feet. Checked her over. Apart from having the air knocked right out her, and a streak of blood on her arm that may or may not have been hers, she seemed to be otherwise alright. Still, Lucien held her up.

She just stared at him. Swallowed. Wanted to thank him, to say…something—

“You’ve done quite enough.” The male behind them tore his weary gaze from the fallen beam, long enough to face them. “We can handle it from here — you need to rest. All of you.”

“I can stay.” Y/N stepped past Lucien. “Just tell me what you need, and—”

“Lady,” Boldy — so, so boldly, more than he ever would have dared before — the male grasped her hand in his own, “We’re grateful for your kindness. But the last thing we need is any of you collapsing from exhaustion. You’ve done more than we possibly could have asked. Rest.”

Y/N glanced up at the sky, dark and filling with stars above her. The prospect of washing the grit and grime off of her, of collapsing into bed…she almost went to her knees then and there. But to face the long journey home…what awaited her at home—

The male seemed to read that very thought on her face. “My lodgings are about two miles down the road. I’m staying here to help, but…by all means, the four of you are welcome to spend the night there. It’s the least I can offer you.”

She almost sagged with relief. Two miles — she could handle two miles. Probably.

Lucien stepped up beside her, dipping his chin. “Thank you. For your generosity.”

And the male’s eyes, as he met those of the youngest Vanserra, were entirely unguarded. Every grateful, admiring thought shone earnestly in them, and Y/N knew what he was thinking in that moment — that Lucien had behaved like a true High Lord.

“No, Lucien.” He inclined his head. “Thank you.”

⤲

The four of them turned out to be the two of them.

Nox and Auster insisted on staying, on securing any more buildings threatening collapse. And after, they’d said, they would return to the Vanserra Estate, no matter the hour. They wanted to face Beron’s wrath head-on.

And so it was just Lucien and Y/N alone who travelled the two miles silently on horseback, not even sharing a glance as they kept an eye out for the male’s lodgings.

The lodgings, it turned out, was a gamekeeper’s cottage tucked into the forest that outlined the sprawling landscape. Certainly private and secluded. Certainly a place for them to rest.

But a strange sting of tension had bloomed between them on their silent journey. Y/N could feel Lucien’s heavy, pressing gazes. Like he was trying to stop himself from saying something. How tightly he clutched at his horse’s reins, his knuckles turning white, was indication enough that he was biting his tongue. Gone, clearly, was the solidarity they’d shared during the day.

They didn’t utter a word as they secured the horses outside the cottage and traipsed inside. But both shared the same thought as they stopped, studying their home for the night.

It was…small. The barest necessities, Lucien supposed, for what a gamekeeper might need. One open-plan area with a bed, an armchair, a basic kitchenette and a fire. He could only assume that the one other door to his left led to a cramped bathing room.

“I’ll sleep in the armchair.” Lucien said tersely, before Y/N could speak. “You can have the bed.”

There was no room for arguing — that much was obvious, as she studied the way he avoided her gaze. He brushed past her, tying his hair back as he went.

“I’ll get the fire going.” He murmured.

She knew he was merely thinking aloud — not really talking to her — but she nodded, all the same. And found her eyes lingering on him, watching him, as he knelt before the hearth. It took her a moment to rip her eyes away.

She cleared her throat, striding over to the kitchenette and quietly muttering, “I’m thirsty.”

Lucien didn’t deign to respond. He poured every morsel of his concentration — what was left of it — into getting the fire going. Even though he wanted to snuff it straight back out — even though he’d seen enough fire, in one day, to last him a lifetime. It was far too cold a night for them to forego the heat it offered.

Only when it was breathing warmth into the room did he stand. He turned, eyes immediately landing on Y/N.

She stood at the sink, seeming deep in thought as she scrubbed her hands clean. Lucien could only stop. Stare.

There was blood on her arm — hers or somebody else’s, Lucien didn’t know; he felt his stomach twist, felt a deep impulse to stride over and inspect it. But he rooted his feet to the floor. Waited for her to finish. Why…he didn’t know.

He didn’t know anything, right then. Like why he couldn’t stop his eyes from travelling every inch of her. Her dirtied, crumpled clothing and her hunched shoulders. Her hair had come completely loose from the bun she’d thrown it into, once again falling around her face and forming a curtain that hid her expression. Still, Lucien stared.

He could feel it — the urge to stride over and brush that hair away. That hair that always looked so silken, so soft, be it tied up neatly or flowing about her shoulders. He’d found his eyes lingering on that hair one too many times. Found them lingering now.

And there was that tiny, little braid again — every damn day, she wore one single braid in her hair, no matter the style she’d opted for. He didn’t know why. He’d noticed it before — multiple times — namely when she’d helped him from the ground after their sword fight, when her hair had swayed towards him and pushed her honeysuckle scent to him. That single braid had dangled down, and he’d wondered what the little decoration would feel like between his fingers. How soft it might be as he fisted her hair in his hand whilst she panted into his mouth, his hips—

She swivelled to face him. Lucien blinked out of his thoughts, praying that the nature of them didn’t leave a dusting of pink on his skin. If the change in his scent was obvious…

She pressed her back against the wall. Stared at him. He stared back.

“Well?” She shrugged. “Out with it.”

Her tone was…strained. Confrontational. Had she sensed Lucien looking at her? Sensed, maybe, the direction of his thoughts?

His jaw ticked as he ground out, “What.”

“Whatever it is you’re dying to say.” Her arms folded across her chest. Wrapped around herself again — she seemed to do that a lot; a comfort mechanism. “You glared at me practically the whole way here. Pray, tell, what have I done now?”

He had glared at her. And she’d noticed. But hadn’t discerned that his tension, his ire, was made up entirely of concern. Worry. Panic.

His eyes darted to her arm. “You’re hurt.”

“I caught it on a piece of jutting wood.” She clasped a hand over the wound. “I’ll live.”

Gods, she was so fucking infuriating. So damn oblivious to what was at stake, what lay at her feet. Reckless and careless and stupid.

“If that’s all, I’m going to bed—”

“Why didn’t you come find me?” Lucien blurted. “When you learned of the fire. Why didn’t you come and ask for help instead of running off on your own?”

She blinked at him, her mouth falling slightly open. Pure incredulity showed on her face as she looked him up and down, and barked a humourless laugh.

“Why should I come and find you?” She demanded. “I did ask for help. I asked Dion, and he refused to go against your father’s word, so I took it into my own hands.”

Lucien clenched his teeth so hard, it was a wonder they didn’t break. He hated every damn bit of her response. The way she referred to him — merely as you, as though he was nothing. Dion’s gods-damn name on her tongue. Her recklessness—

“Even if nobody else would help,” He spat. “Surely you would have known that I—”

“Known what, Lucien?” She interrupted. “Known that you’re a good, noble male who would have dropped everything to offer your aid? You’ve been nothing but an asshole to me.”

“I—”

“No one at that gods-damn estate listens to me. I’ve been nothing but suffocated since I got there. And not by my own choosing, I might add.”

True. She was speaking such truth, and yet Lucien couldn’t bear to acknowledge it. Couldn’t bear to acknowledge that perhaps he’d got things so, so wrong. It was far easier to become the sneering asshole that she’d pegged him as.

And he did just that.

“You don’t seem,” he snarled, striding over to her, “to be complaining much about the luxuries my family’s estate affords you. You’ve had no problem embracing them.”

“See, there it is again!” She snapped back. “You know nothing about me, because you haven’t even deigned to step out of your privileged viewpoint and consider that we don’t all have the freedom of choice, Lucien. I was brought here as nothing more than a damn bargaining chip! I don’t have the freedom to speak my own mind, or to take a walk throughout the woods without an escort, or do anything I want to do, because from the moment I arrived at that fucking estate, my freedom was taken from me!”

Lucien had fallen so preternaturally still. He blinked at her, utterly stunned. Her words sinking in—

“Your assumptions about me have been entirely wrong and I’m sick of it,” She continued, shaking with her anger, her hands balling, “You assume I’m the privileged, stuck-up one. But you? You have it far easier. I don’t have the option to go and fuck someone against a bloody tree in the orchard or to be consumed by the passion, because the next person I’ll have to let touch me is your bro—”

Lucien struck.

He couldn’t stomach it. Couldn’t bear even the idea of anyone but him touching her. Couldn’t stand the thought of anyone tasting her the way he…the way he wanted to. He needed rid of that thought, to banish it—

He was nothing but pure, carnal need embodied as he grabbed her face between his hands and kissed her.

His lips slanted over hers, and he felt her gasp against him. That first taste of her threatened to undo him then and there. He’d thought about this taste, wondered about it. Fisted his cock and spilled all over his stomach as he imagined it — more than once. He groaned against her lips.

He wanted to taste her all over, to devour her—

She gripped onto his wrists. Pulled away. Blinked up at him. He blinked back.

Neither said a word. Their heavy breaths filled the space, and they stared at each other, wide-eyed. Lucien’s eyes fell to her lips once more. Hers fell to his.

They both surged forward again at the same, their mouths meeting once more.

⤲

It was a harder kiss, more brutal, a heady meeting of lips and teeth.

Lucien gripped onto you so hard, you knew — hoped — it would bruise. His hands fastened on your waist as he shoved you against the wall, pinned you there with his own hips, and slid his tongue into your mouth.

It wrapped around yours, teased the roof of your mouth, and your tastes invaded each other. You wanted this. Wanted him. Had wanted him from the first moment you’d seen him reading poems and sonnets beneath a tree. No taste would ever, ever be enough.

You bit down on his lip, fisting your hand in the loose ponytail his hair was tied into. You tugged, tugged hard, and Lucien groaned.

“You drive me mad,” He growled, his hands roaming your body. “Always, always on my mind.”

The words sent a thrill through you, but you didn’t stop to consider them. What they meant.

“Show me,” You gasped, kissing him hard. And said again, “Show me.”

You knew — and so did he — that there was no amount of restraint that existed to make him refuse. A delicious snarl ripped from his throat, sounding more animal than man, and his hands found their way to your breeches.

Too many buttons, too many laces. Pure, feral noises sounded from deep in his chest as he gripped the front of your breeches and tore them apart with his hands, the brutal action in itself causing wetness to pool between your legs. He shoved them to your feet, yanked your undergarments down, and then he was slanting his lips over yours again. His nostrils flared as your scent hit him.

“I need to be inside you.” His voice was guttural. “Now.”

“Yes.” Was all you managed to gasp out. “Yes.”

You were aware, as his mouth coasted your jaw, your neck, of the sound of his belt hitting the floor. He breathed heavily, his hands moving between you. And then he shoved his breeches down.

His cock sprang free, and there was no chance for you to so much as look as it as he gripped his length in his hand. Used the other to heft one of your legs up, around his waist.

You felt the head of his cock brush through your wetness. Felt it tease your entrance. You gripped his shoulders.

And then he was pushing into you.

The slight pinch of pain was delicious, incredible, as he thrust in. A moan fell from your lips as he filled you, and he swallowed it with a kiss, his lips once again finding yours.

He pulled out to the tip. Slammed back in to the hilt.

And then unleashed himself on you.

There was nothing slow or gentle about it. Not as he thrust and thrust and thrust into you, skin slapping skin, your breaths and moans the only sounds filling the space, alongside the relentless thud, thud, thud of your back hitting the wall.

Lucien tore his lips from yours, burying his face in the crook of your neck. A deep groan came from him as he reached up and grabbed your breast.

“Oh gods,” He gasped, squeezing hard. “Why does it feel like this? Feels too good, I can’t…”

Words failed him — and failed you, too. But words were unnecessary as your uncontrolled moans took over, your head falling back. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders, his back, and you knew you would leave marks as you gave over to the sensations in your body. As you became his pleasure, and he became yours.

“Fuck,” You manage to bite out. “Oh, gods.”

Never had you felt so damn good. His thrusts, somehow, picked up, the noises he emitted becoming deeper, gruffer, as he hit that sweet spot inside you. You could feel yourself clenching around him, feel yourself about to come undone completely.

And when he reached down and pressed his thumb to your clit once, you lost it.

Your scream caught in your throat as released barrelled through you, and you clenched around his cock hard. Lucien grunted, thrusting those capable hips again, again, again — and then he was following you straight into that release. Spilling inside you.

The feel of him, the warmth of him inside you…you couldn’t bear it. You went utterly weak against him, your gasped moans trailing off into soft, staggered noises.

Lucien had stilled against you. He didn’t move, his body still pressed to yours as his breaths slowly evened out.

And then he pulled his hand from your breast. Slid out of you. Stepped back.

He blinked at you. Studied you all over, like…like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Couldn’t believe what he’d just done.

He swallowed, russet eyes looking utterly shell shocked as he leaned down and yanked his breeches up. You’d never seen his golden skin so pale. Never seen him tremble like he did now, as he fastened the buttons on his breeches.

You needed to speak, to say something — anything. You opened your mouth—

Lucien turned on the spot — turned away from you. His shoulders were hunched as he stalked to the door.

He didn’t look back as he stepped out. As he left the cottage, left you alone, the door slamming behind him.

All you could do was stare at the door. Gape. You were still pressed against the wall, your trousers and underwear pooled at your feet. Your body still trembling. Lucien’s seed dripping out of you, down your legs.

You blinked. Touch your fingers to your lips. Your legs shook as you slowly pushed off the wall and pulled your breeches back up.

You couldn’t…you’d just fucked Lucien Vanserra.

Not the Vanserra you were marrying.

An iciness settled inside you as you moved towards the bed. It felt like wading through mud, pushing your body to co-operate.

You collapsed down onto the mattress. Blinked up at the ceiling. The silence was deafening.

Lucien had fucked you and left.

You’d had sex with Dion’s brother.

You couldn’t bear it…couldn’t allow one more thought to pass through your head. The day had been too much, too pressing.

You’d swapped a good deed with a terrible one.

A terrible one that had felt so, so brilliant.

You rolled over, burying your face into the pillow. And you wept.

⤲

You didn’t sleep, and Lucien didn’t return.

Where he’d spent the night, you had no clue. You tried not to think about it as you rose early the next morning and climbed straight into the bathtub. You’d scrubbed your skin until it was red-raw, smothering Lucien’s scent with so much soap, you were sore afterwards.

When you stepped out of the front door, his horse was gone. Just Dion’s horse — the one you’d taken — waited. Waited for you.

You were exhausted. Haggard. But you didn’t want to linger there a moment longer. Didn’t want to glance back at the wall that you’d been slammed against as Lucien thrust into you—

No. You needed to forget. To send it far, far from your mind.

And so you set off. Away from the gamekeeper’s cottage. Past the ruined remains of the hamlet. Your surroundings were nothing but a blur as you rode, only just keeping your wits about you enough to travel in the right direction. Back to the Vanserra Estate.

You felt…empty. Hollow. Exhausted.

Perhaps that was why you didn’t so much as flinch at the sight of the Vanserra manor. You knew Beron’s wrath awaited you inside, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You returned Dion’s horse to the stables. Scarcely managed a greeting to the staff you passed as you traipsed to the front door with heavy feet.

Dion was waiting for you at the top of the stone steps.

He was tense. Guarded. But his eyes swept over you once, and whatever he saw seemed to soften him slightly.

“You’re back.” He said, watching you carefully as you approached him. “I was getting worried…”

“It was too late to travel back, by the time the fires were out.” You didn’t recognise your own voice. “I take it your father wants to speak with me?”

Dion nodded, somewhat apologetically. “He does. I’ll come with you.”

“I don’t need a bodyguard.”

You brushed past him, into the house. He was hot on your trail as he fell into step with you and took your arm.

“I understand why you’re angry with me.” He lowered his voice, lest the servants hear. “But I couldn’t go against my father’s word.”

You stared forward. “Those people needed help, Dion.”

“I know. I know they did.”

You didn’t offer him another word as he led you through the manor. No sign of Lucien anywhere. You wondered if he’d returned, or if he was still out on the road—

You shook the thoughts from your head as you came to Beron’s office. You knocked once.

“Come in.” He said immediately, like he was expecting you right then.

You pushed into the room, Dion following you inside. He shut the door behind him, pressed his back against it.

You turned to Beron. Couldn’t muster anything but indifference onto your face.

He sat at his desk, wearing an expression of pure ice. His eyes flicked over you, a sneer curling his lip. You knew you must have looked awful.

You opened your mouth — to say what, you didn’t know. But he slammed his hand down on the desk, hard enough for it to jolt. You flinched.

“Do you have anything you’d like to say?” He hissed.

You stared at him with vacant eyes. Found yourself shrugging. “I like your paperweight.”

Behind you, Dion emitted a vague noise of distress. And Beron…Beron rose from his seat. Clenched the edges of his desk so hard, his knuckles turned white.

“Do you think it’s a joke,” he hissed, “to undermine me?”

You lowered your gaze to the floor. “Not a joke, no. But I did deem it necessary.”

“I am your High Lord. What I say is what goes.”

“You are their High Lord, also. Those people who just lost everything. They needed your help—”

“How dare you deign to tell me how I should run my own court? Do you truly believe I’ll take orders from a silly little girl?”

“I—”

“Father,” Dion cut in softly, gently. He came to stand beside you, lightly touching your arm. “Y/N didn’t mean anything by it. I don’t believe she meant any harm. She wouldn’t have realised she was doing anything wrong.”

You wanted to turn on him — on both of them — and argue that you knew full fucking well what you were doing, and none of it was wrong. But Dion met your eyes with a fierce look, a subtle shake of his head. And then Beron was stepping around the desk. Stalking slowly towards you.

You watched. Watched every one the High Lord’s movements as he stopped before you. Inches away.

His eyes were shards of ice as they stared down at you. His jaw clenched.

“You are the daughter of a good friend of mine.” He said quietly, dangerously. “And I do not wish to cause upset between our families. But let me make something very clear to you.”

You lifted your chin. Met his gaze. He hated every second of it.

“You are walking a very fine line, girl.” He murmured. “I’m willing to overlook this incident as an innocent error of judgement. But I will be watching you. And if you ever, ever undermine me or disrespect me again? I’ll make sure you regret it.” His eyes flicked over you. “Are we clear?”

You didn’t want to respond; didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Your shoulders hunched, and you knew Dion was holding his breath beside you.

“Are we clear?” Beron snapped.

Dion nudged your arm with his own. A warning.

“Yes, High Lord.” You gritted out. “We’re clear.”

Beron appraised you again, disgust muddying his eyes. “Good. Now get out of my sight.”

Before you could say anything, land yourself in any more shit, Dion was gripping your arm and dragging you from the room. He shut the door behind him, turning to face you.

You didn’t care to hear a word he had to say — not right then. You were too mad, too disgusted — with him, with yourself, with Beron. If you didn’t walk away right now, you would lose it.

“Y/N.” He said, but you were already turning your back on him.

“I want to be alone, Dion.” You shot back. Every bit of your exhaustion showed in your voice.

Perhaps that was why he didn’t say another word as you walked away from him, and went to succumb to another onslaught of tears in your suite.

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

all acotar tags: @moonfawnx @writingsbychlo @moonlitcelestial @orangecreamsicle54 @saturnspoet0711 @andahugaroundtheneck @nightscourtt @mysticalcheesecakemiracle @luckypersonmentality @nobody00sthings @kristalhi @tencrushesperday @janzquu @we-were-beautiful @thewarriormoon @cirwin2013 @mrs-azriel @the-kwami-of-fandom-frustration @libraryofathousandstars @daily-dose-of-sass @pixiestix13 @basicbittywitty @simplefan-638 @highlady-ofillyria @false-desire-182 @fictionalcharacterlereasigim @theofficialmadman @kemillfreitas @sledgehammer21-1 @shannonsaid @jtargs @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @new-adventures-everyday @positivewitch @crushedcloudsx @cartoonnerdgirl @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ssmay123 @linduzmunna @ruler-of-hades @kennedy-brooke @peachyandmoon @ariaaira @topaz125 @blitz-fall @azrielsbbg @gracedarr @goldentournesol @localhopedealerr @swagfreakathletemonger @sfhsgrad-blog @lo0oserlex @ruleroftides @mayabennett03 @vera0124 @mich0731 @balam-sen @luciensbxtch @holywolfsstuff @chloesgoneposts @margssstuff

[ithappensoffstage]

r&g report

I had the privilege of seeing rosencrantz & guildenstern are dead with billy boyd and dominic monaghan on march 5! a few people asked for my thoughts after, so here's a sort of stream of consciousness report that may or may not be comprehensive depending on what you're looking for out of said theatre report

anyway I do genuinely believe boydmonaghan are literally the only people who can and should ever play r&g

to start off I will say that this was my first time seeing r&g staged -- I've previously just read it A LOT -- so I can't make comparisons to other productions. I am also a lifetime fan of theatre and have been somewhat involved, but do lack some technical knowledge, so apologies if I can't cover some aspects accurately!

most important of course, boydmonaghan were stellar. their comfort and familiarity with one another is amazing to witness. of course it's staged, but none of their movements come across as anything other than two old friends. they move together like dance partners; there's really no other way to put it. when you put on a show with someone you're so intimate with, it just comes through in the physicality in ways that aren't replicable with people meeting just for one production. watching them as r&g just feels like you're watching them hanging out. they anticipate each other's movements beautifully, lean into each other naturally, play off each other with such comfortable rapport that you feel like you're watching childhood friends goofing off from your corner of the party.

and the RAPPORT I mean wow. damn. if you're familiar with r&g -- the question game scene? holy shit. breathtaking quickness. they are rapid-fire, on each other's heels in the vein of the best comedies. for everyone who knows my tastes of course, they have * the * hawkbeej dynamic. (I almost cried watching because I kept thinking of my beloved url namesake fic.)

great pacing, great chemistry. even when they're sitting still you can still feel the intimacy between them in just how they arrange themselves. lots of staging to reflect mirroring, lots of staging to reflect the thematic element of identity (sorry, I'm rosencrantz; he's guildenstern), etc. great costuming choice -- billy wears green except his blue waistcoat; dom wear blue but for his green waistcoat.

their deliveries were nothing short of spectacular. that of course wraps into pacing and chemistry as mentioned above. but I do feel it's worth mentioning again that they're both so good at speaking their lines. they have such rhythm with each other. and of course that's going to happen--they have a podcast, theyre incredibly close friends, but it's so great to see in a setting with predetermined script, predetermined runtime. again, youre watching two friends who are off their minds at a party really Go Through It.

boydmonaghan aside, I had some general issues with the production. they had quite regular sound errors, and made some sound design choices with music and vocal warping/autotune that were not to my taste. there was a cool echo element utilized that I liked a lot. as I mentioned I don't know other productions so I don't know if this is standard practice, but for this one it was quite fun. coin echoing, echoing around the stage when they shouted into the wings to give you that sense of being trapped. when they spoke to the audience space, it felt enormous, and as if they were speaking to you specifically. I just got so distracted by the mic problems and weird autotune.

the autotune moments were exclusive to the hamlet scenes. that brings me to the other actors. the player himself was magnetic. phenomenal. so much presence. emcee cabaret presence. great stuff. hamlet? so lacking imo. he played hamlet very angry and masculine, which is a choice I guess, but not how I like to see hamlet done. it did make some of the intersectional scenes a little jarring; which, I know is not entirely without reason, but it just wasn't my ideal way to play it.

other than the question scene, one of my favorite scenes in the original text of r&g is when they're talking about leaving the stage, and they continue to make excuses not to. "i think he went this way / maybe that way / why don't you come with me it'll be safer / we should try this direction / oh we should actually wait in case he comes back here." the director did skip this dialogue, which I think gives the indication of less agency for r&g. a little less participation, a little more of things happening to them. which is fine. I have no feelings either way of a better way to do it, but that is just the sense I got of it.

the stage is very small, the set is very cramped. lots of overt use of trapped imagery. theyre often crowded into specific space, sitting very close. when they make space, they make SPACE, indicating periods of disagreement. pretty basic staging for this, I'd assume.

outside staging, very cool lighting, although I am generally against scenes with "party lighting." again, not sure what typical lighting is the scenes with the players that got that, but I could have left it out. similarly, we got a scene with "rock" lighting, and I just thought it was too on the nose / in bad taste. arguable how meta you need meta/absurdist work to be ofc but that decision wasn't for me.

the other lighting choices were great. it starts SO dark. I had lower balcony seating and have great vision, but the start spotlight was so soft the two of them were damn fuzzy for me at the beginning. they gradually get more light in the spotlight, and then it expands. there was a great sunrise moment where they turned the Big Warm Light on the audience and it truly felt like a sunrise over me. the final "rosenc--? guilden--? now you see me / now you don't" from billy was beautifully performed. the lights split the stage into two distinct chambers, truly separating r&g for the first time despite any previous physical distance. I did get a little choked up.

(the final hamlet scene that follows jarred me from the emotion a bit because the horatio actor didn't even try at an accent ToT and it was just weirdly red-lit and they came in with the autotune for the Big End of Speech). and I wish they hadn't made it so Intense and Dramatic because they of course we get our time loop / back to the start / they start on "heads!" and it's such a hold-your-breath type moment. boydmonaghan are good enough that it brought me back but damn. (horatio actor please don't skip vocal lessons again.)

and yeah then I skipped stage door because it made me a little uncomfortable and I went home!

I was very lucky to go and I took my lovely wife (who liked it very much despite only having seen hamlet the day before lol). anyway if you can go I highly recommend! I am even considering pulling a @thealogie and going to see if I can scoop some last-minute box office tickets one of my remaining days here.

ask box is of course open for any questions <3

quick edit: I will say, sincerely, the r&g audience was one of the worst audiences I’ve been in. none of these people knew what the fuck was going on. I wanted to eject them all from their seats into the city skyline and have the theatre to myself (+ wife). literally constantly “what” “what is going on” “huh” from around us. go away. mutuals please come see this show so I can sit with you and not next to someone trying to have a y/n when they look at the audience.

edit 2: I think I mentioned but I did have lower balcony seating. I could see well! I think I might have preferred to be a bit closer just for the microexpressions I probably missed, but I would echo others in saying there really were no *bad * seats at all.

edit 3: stage door is out front to the left of the main doors if you're interested. I personally was not (I already have something signed by billy/have met him multiple times, and would prefer to meet dom at a comic con setting because that makes me more comfortable than stage door).

[sunflower1experiment]

My neighbor is a cannibal murderer

Pt2

It’s like listening to a scientist who studies the human body…but they don’t ever chose to be a doctor, kinda like Parasol in Town of Vile. He always comes over smiling widely and occasionally asking me for candy for the toothpaste tools maybe some washing tools as well, so I went over his house.

It was atrocious, the male actually looked confused when I cursed him out over the mess rather than the obvious fact that he had gut wrenching stenches of flesh resting in his fridge.

However, he did let me clean the place and even drag him around the house to which I assumed was his plot to eat me but again as he stated. “I like my victims during Halloween, spooky month to be exact.” We both immediately do the traditional shuffle dance before going normal. “Alright but that don’t explain why this house looked like the roaches wouldn’t even be afraid of humans and shockingly enough ya don’t got em. Ah guess that’s a plus…luckily you ain’t like them Citizens in Hamlet Crossing.”

Bob chuckles mischievously, “Nah I take care of my house from time to time. Just like how I like my victims to either be taken care of~ or tender and can put up a good fight- then again I do like em alive too.” Bob leans in, slightly breathing heavily but a loud grumble escapes after. Why? Never underestimate the power of a pinch.

Sometime later it did come to a point that I had to leave so as I was heading back he follows. Offering me a nice burger, “So ya were the guy who worked at the burger place…Hm…you were hotter back then. Now ya just so damn evil.”

“…..That mean I’m still somewhat attractive?”

“I won’t deny it.” Bob had a stupid grin resting on his face and I felt a long tongue lick my face before he purrs. “And you still taste the same as you were when we first met little sheep.”

Silence, he was gone and I wasn’t planning to recover from that at all. “What the FUDGE!”

[bubblegum-blackwood]

1. If you had to get one quote, song lyric, line from a poem etc. Tattooed in you forever, what would it be?

2. Someone grants you a wish that allows you to learn 1 language and 1 instrument instantaneously. Which language and instrument do you choose?

Damn, you managed to pick one of the hardest questions for me to answer! It's quite broad, I have so much to choose from . . . I don't even know where to start! I guess if I'm working with what I can remember off the top of my head, I'll go with "There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so" from Hamlet (2.2.268-270) - I go back to this quote again and again, I just love it!

This is also a difficult question to answer! There are so many languages in the world, so many possibilities! I think it would be so fun to know like ancient Egyptian or Greek or Latin and be able to read texts straight from the source rather than having to rely on translations that may or may not be very faithful, but I think if I'm being realistic I would probably choose Spanish since so many people speak it where I live. And I already know how to play the trumpet, but if I got to play another instrument it would probably be the piano. It's basic but seems so fun! I'd need magic to be able to read two different lines of sheet music simultaneously though sjfjwoifwhoifews

[startanewdream]

Fic authors self-rec! ✨ When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers ❤️

Thanks for the tag @merlins-sequined-hotpants and @indigo-scarf!

My own favorite fics tend to change and I kind of have too many fics now (if you count those I've only posted on Tumblr, it's more than 100 fics by now), so I tried to limit only those on AO3:

- Light beam: ‘Dad, hypothetically… what would you have done if Mum was Sirius’ sister?’ Or a Jily Lives AU canon compliant with HBP. I have a lot of feelings for all fics in Eyes Glistening, but this one is still the nicest I've written. Once I thought about rewriting the whole series from James and Lily's pov as they watched from "above" but it was too damn sad all the time — now in this series they get to engage with Harry! They get to be there for Harry in one of the happiest moments of Harry's life and they get to see Harry struggling with the tale as old as time! If you ever want to read ONE Jily Lives AU story in this series, go read this one :)

- bury it and rise above: Lily is a Witch. James is a Muggle. It's not easier.

This is the kind of fic that made me want to write again: an AU retell that adapts canon elements while still keeping the characters as close to canon as possible. Muggle James is just as magical as Wizard James for me, and Lily is twice as amazing. I hope you fall in love with the Summer/Winter theme, I hope you enjoy this tale of friends-to-lovers.

- the thing about (il)licit affairs: James and Lily embark in a journey of friendship with benefits and set some rules. Too bad James is a rulebreaker by nature and no one tells Lily what she should do.

I've never enjoyed writing any other multi-chapter fic as much as I've enjoyed this one, and I hope it shows. It's funny and light and silly, and so James and Lily :)

- Until Spring Comes Again: When evil forces conspire to take the throne, Prince James needs to choose between a life of mischief or to become the king he should be.

I get it, Lion King AU does not spark much confidence (with an universe of Disney princesses I went for the Hamlet AU), but hey, give it a shot. This story has everything: true love, sword fights, betrayal, friendship, marauders, can you feel the love tonight. It's still the best plotted story I've ever written!

Five Stages of Starflower: James is oblivious, Lily is mostly okay with her unrequited love and Sirius has a few plans about this situation.

This fic was my birthday gift to myself once! I remember being stuck at some points and every time I got out of it thinking: "what do I want to happen now, no matter how unlikely/stupid it sounds?" It's so self-indulgent and I love it for it. And also, five people gave me the same Jily prompt for it, which was my most iconic moment in the fandom <3

Tagging @blitheringmcgonagall @sweeethinny @the-dream-team @maraudersftw and @midnightelite if you want to, and also @constancezin if you want to share your fave arts!

[yuri-goth]

hi @charlottan, book tag game :3

Favorite books: It is so so hard for me to pick favourites. uhhhhhh... Night Watch by Pratchett, and honestly I could put a lot of Pratchett's books on here. but I won't. Wiedźmin Sapkowskiego, a lot of polish romanticism, satire, and war nonfiction; Sienkiewicz, Mickiewicz, Krasicki, Białoszewski, Borowski. A lot of Brandon Sanderson books; mistborn came to mind first

Favorite authors: a lot were mentioned above. Pratchett is probably the highest up there.

Favorite genres: fantasy, post-apocalyptic (or what I like to call: post post-apocalyptic) and historic nonfiction. Yuri.

Book(s) you’re currently reading: Sideways in time by Murray Leinster, After Sappho by Selby Wynn Schwartz, Macbeth by Shakespeare (plays count, shut up)

Books on your to read list: waaah too many to mention. I still have like 8 ones I've picked up from various used bookstores, my library holds currently are for The Terror by Dan Simmons, Hamlet (particularly choice audiobook), & The city and the city by China Miéville.

Books you loved as a child: Felix, Net i Nika Rafała Kosika, Animorphs by Katherine Applegate, Eragon by Christopher Paolini, Strrraszna Historia (various authors)

Preferred book length: with how I get INTO a book and refuse to put it down until it's over; I wanna say like. 100-150k words??? I dunno tho, I also like small books I can devour in one day, and I also like Project Books.

Books you couldn’t finish: I generally don't bother to remember things that I didn't enjoy or at least disliked in an interesting way. The most recent book I didn't finish was a 2 dollar used bookstore pickup Falling off the map: some lonely places of the world by Pico Iyer. the premise was amazing but then it just ended up being a bunch of British privileged takes on people the author clearly deemed as lesser. HOW IS ICELAND OR CUBA "FORGOTTEN"???? I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE TINY TOWNS, ACTUALLY INTERESTING THINGS, NOT WHOLE FUCKING CULTURES YOU FUC-

Fiction or nonfiction: as a Writer I lean fiction 95%, and as such read a lot of it and learn from a lot of it, but also as someone who was always interested in history of People's, not armies, I've read a lot of nonfiction; journals and such. Both are great, recently I've been on a larger nonfiction kick tho

Buy, borrow from library, or read online: I'm sadly also a buycel, I love physical books. However, I'm also huge on audiobooks, and used to use my kindle a lot. In reality my sortof. division would be: buy from used bookstores, borrow audiobooks from your local libraries, steal ebooks and put them onto a cracked eReader as last resort.

Author you’ve read the most of, but DON’T recommend: I dunno! I mean, hm. I don't know how the Witcher translations are, translating from a nice and juicy language into English is lossy as hell so those version gotta be mid and I would not recommend anyone learn Polish unless you have a damn good reason.

Favorite book character: Can I put a cop on here? cause first character I thought of was Vimes from Pratchett's city watch. He's complicated and a bastard. honestly, a lot of Pratchett's characters. Angua, Carrot, Vetinari even.

If you at some point stopped reading but then started again, what book/books got you into reading again: Gideon the ninth :) I used to read 2-4 books a week as a child, then depression hit, then immigration, money and space and house insecurity, and I stopped until pretty recently :) now I'm back babey

Tagging ANYONE in this, if you do do this, please tag me :)

[thessalian]

Thess vs Sandman S2 Casting

I am up at an unreasonable hour, probably because someone was riniging doorbells throughout the block of flats for reasons, or something, I dunno. Anyway, I figured it gave me more Forbidden West time, and it will, but I noted through the traditional morning social media trawl that there was a bit of news about Sandman S2 (one of the few reasons I'm keeping Netflix around at the moment).

Delirium - a piece of casting that I personally have been waiting for, because acting that kind of character is hard - is being played by Esme Creed-Miles. And I knew I knew that name, so I looked into it. And hey, yes, I do. From The Legend of Vox Machina, in point of fact. She voices Cassandra. Which gives me some confidence that the part will be as well-handled as all the other casting decisions so far.

And then, the other important part - "the Prodigal", aka Destruction. Now, he's not really done much in the way of anything in the genres I usually like, but he's done the usual stuff that British voice actors ... well, do (go look sometime; more often than not, any British voice actor you care to name will have done at least one episode of a soap opera called Doctors - that, Casualty, or The Bill), but he's mostly known for Captain Price in the Call of Duty series. Clips suggest he should be pretty good.

Then, no less important but still a little ... background-ish - Destiny. They've got Adrian Lester for this, and his pedigree's a little less ... British TV. He has played a lot of Shakespeare - Hamlet, Othello, the Prince in Romeo and Juliet. Also, if anyone's watched the British version of Being Human, he apparently played Herrick in the pilot. Which might have been interesting if they were going for Portentous Vampire Guy, but... Honestly, I'm glad they went with Jason Watkins in the end. I like that unassuming twinkle-in-the-eye juxtaposed with Wannabe Vampire Emperor.

And because I fell down an IMDB rabbit hole again, I note that Jason Watkins will be playing the villain again - Graham Coats in a TV adaptation of Anansi Boys. Big change from Harold Wilson in The Crown.

Also - Donald Sumpter, man. Was checking in on him via his role as Kemp in Being Human, but also he was Maester Lewin in Game of Thrones, he's been an awful lot of movies, and he's acted in Doctor Who both before and after the hiatus between Paul McGann (who I mostly know as "...and I" in Withnail and I, but never mind) and Christopher Ecclestone... Honestly, Sumpter's been in more things than I can count, even if I haven't seen most of them. He's been established in his acting career ten years longer than I've been alive and not only is he still working, but he still has more acting chops in his little finger than I will ever have in my entire body.

I will get out of the rabbit hole with the statement: "Damn, between Sandman, American Gods, and now Anansi Boys, someone is going hard on the @neil-gaiman TV adaptations, and that alone is a reason for good cheer. Even at this horrible hour of morning".

(I still like the ending of the book version of Stardust better than I did the movie version.)

[arminsesposa]

Serein 1.archaic : the supposed fall of dew from a clear sky just after sunset. (Hispanic GN reader x Miles Morales 1610!)

This is my first piece of work so depending how it does I’ll make more parts :p I didn’t add much Spanish but in the other parts there will be so trust me lol. Events take place somewhat during ATSV but give me time LOL

It was an early Monday Morning as the chattering of students filled the halls.

Some students talking about the recent soccer game, or about how AP Scores come out soon. You walked along the hall with your AirPods in as your AP English Literature teacher assigned you guys a project despite the AP test being over.

You walked along the hall, as you carried what seemed like 200 pound book on Hamlet. “Me Vale verga esta clase” you muttered to yourself as your friend Sophia tagged along your side with a poptart in hand. “Maybe she’ll extend the deadline” Sophia said in a hopeful tone. “Yeah in my dreams” you scoffed as you both turned on the hallway almost a few feet from your classroom. Almost inches away, a familiar boy with messy hair and Jordan’s rushes by you, bumping into you as you dropped your book, the papers in it falling out. “No mames güey!” You cussed out a little too loud as students stare at you as you glare at the boy, who only looks back and shrugs his shoulder as an apology. Sophia helps pick up the papers as you carried your book. Again your eyebrows together in anger. “I think we have him for AP Spanish With Mrs.Campos” Sophia responded trying to look for him. “He didn’t even apologize” you said rolling your eyes as you say goodbye to her and walk into your English class.

During the boring English class you couldn’t shake off the moment he bumped into you, as you got angry. Part of you also curious why he was in a rush. You tried to think to yourself what his name was, as you probably talked to him a few times before, as it clicked. His name was Miles Morales, the student who always sleeps during the Spanish Documentaries and Always arrived 20 minutes late to class. Part of you knew that you weren’t gonna let this slide as you thought of a plan to approach him. As soon as you finished reading the damn book.

As what seemed like forever, English was over as you walked through the halls trying to look for Miles. As soon as you saw the gigantic puffer jacket you made your way to him. “Hey! You with that big ass puffer Jacket” You shouted catching his attention as Miles looked around to see if you were truly talking to him. As you finally made your way to him, you realized how much taller her was as you had to raise your head a little up to talk to him. “First of all, thanks for bumping into me and spilling all my papers” you said sarcastically as you rolled your eyes. “And you didn’t even apologize” you crossed your arms over your chest waiting for a response. Miles looked a bit embarrassed as he tried to think of an excuse.

“Sorry, I was in a rush if you didn’t notice” he responded sheepishly, hoping you wouldn’t be super upset as he apologized. “I’ll promise I’ll make it up to you… (y/n??”. He said in a somewhat confused tone hoping he got your name right. “Yeah, we have AP Spanish Together 5th period, you’re always sleeping during the Cantinflas movies” You responded with a laugh as you both chuckled. Before he could say something, he looked distracted by something behind the window you were standing as he apologized one more time. “Look I truly am sorry and didn’t mean to bump into you, but I gotta go I’ll see you soon”. He immediately said as before you could even respond he rushed off leaving you standing alone in the hall. You took a minute to process everything that happened as you just blinked before walking off to look for Sophia.

As 5th period passed, you realized you didn’t see Miles anymore as you though how he probably ditched. For some reason you found yourself worried about him as Sophia snapped in front of your face. “You okay?” She asked worryingly as you focused on your Spanish worksheet. “I’m good, just a little distracted” you responded back filling in the Spanish worksheet. “I forgot to tell you, I have softball practice so we can’t walk home together, me perdonas?” Sophia’s asked as she brought her hands together waiting for you to answer. “You’re such a dumbass sometimes, and it’s fine I’ll probably just go straight home” you said as you laughed at Sophia’s gesture.

As the school day was over, you walked out through the back of the school. The cool breeze touched your skin as you took a deep breath of the cool air. You put on your AirPods, and shuffled your liked songs as you began to walk home. You didn’t live too far from the school, but it was far. You walked by the tagged walls, the small stores, the bus stops and the fruit stands as you were close to home. You saw a bodega nearby as you walked in and greeted the cashier. You had some extra money and was thinking of buying some snacks to eat at home. As you turned to the aisle you came across a tall mysterious figure with Spots stand right in front of you.

[hamletkin]

Hey! What do you think about the Soviet adaptation of Hamlet which was released in 1964? I can't stop portraying the characters without remembering that very movie cause it was soooo damn good 😞

ahhhhh!!! thank you so very much for the ask!

first of all, i want to say keep portraying them that way because your art is BEAUTIFUL and i want to look at it forever

now, to our purpose! i really enjoyed it! i love how the soliloquies are done and how you can just see the emotion on hamlet's face. and the scene with the ghost is god-tier. i was sad about some of the scene cuts but i understand why they were cut. it's really got some interesting direction, too! i love the addition of hamlet coming home and all of the court life. there's so much life in the film and i think that's what i love most about it. there's never a stale moment even when there are beats. i also really like the stark differences in how hamlet deals with different people in his life. like there's no life in him when he speaks with polonius but with his friends he becomes a person again, even when he knows he's being played in much the same manner. it's just a really interesting choice to me! and the costumes......oh i am upset because i am not dressed in a single one of them. it hurts me to the core.

[dragonairice]

look!! awful dialogue time!! boom.

Day 2/??? - Approximately past noon.

Contrary to popular belief, Jeremy was very into nature. Of course, that was when said nature was devoid of unknown textures. And bugs. And annoying sunlight.

Alright, he was into nature just in theory, but this game world’s nature was shockingly bearable. Walking for the entire morning did tire him, but no Amor Seco, Cadillo, Catchweed Bedstraw, Cleavers, Goosegrass, Stickyweed, Sticky willy or Velcro plant had gotten in the way of the walk. He considered it a sound success. 

God damn, he missed his room.

As much as he wanted to complain about it, the walk had been silent enough to observe the surroundings. They had passed through about 3 other small hills, (1 of which was purple, and the other ones were, respectively, blue and bright orange, to his confusion and delight,) to their right at some point he saw what could be a forest, and in the distance a large mountain stood. He would need to know the names of all of those places to judge the worldbuilding skills of the developers, but for now he just enjoyed looking at them.

Silent enough for that, was the walk, but Myrene had talked just enough to stop his mind from starting the much procrastinated panic session he was due. Great!

She had provided useful information, such as “My place is right behind that peak, it’s not that far from here,” “You should totally avoid that swamp over there,” “I’m guessing you’re new new, so let me tell you that getting hurt will hurt, so try to avoid fights, you’re like a twig and I won’t be looking around for you until you respawn if you die.” That one had actually shaken him a bit, since he was not too fond of the whole dying idea.

He mostly stayed quiet until he was asked a direct question, which probably saved him many problems along the walk. An adorable little fox had, at some point, started following them along, but when Jeremy mustered the courage to kneel down and pet it, Myrene quickly drew her bow and. Shot the animal. God.

Jeremy honestly didn’t know what he was expecting, for it to automatically turn into a piece of meat? No, the poor thing just stayed there, bleeding out, and he was properly horrified. A small voice in his brain tried to soothe him down by saying “It wasn’t actually alive, it was part of the game, don’t worry, it probably didn’t feel the pain,” but it wasn’t soothing at all! He, for one, was in the game too, and could testify that he was very much alive. The tears that had involuntarily welled in his eyes were pushed down by him looking up. He couldn’t let Myrene see that he was this sensitive, what if she got angry? Or worse, left him there all alone?

Myrene picked the fox up and threw it over her shoulder, “Dinner,” she had said as an explanation. Jeremy’s throat pushed down the bile that had formed up. They kept on walking.

They walked for the entire day. Jeremy wondered what Myrene had been doing so far from home, or if she usually did such long trips (just for one fox, though? It didn’t add up to him, but most things didn’t, so he let it go.)

The sun had started going down when they arrived, a small (hamlet? village?) offered its warm orange lights from the distance. Jeremy wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but Myrene’s shoulders were the tiniest bit less tense. He missed his room, and wondered where Michael was, and what he would have thought of the sunset before him.

The panic wasn’t addressed by his brain when they got to Myrene’s place, either. Their arrival to the small village (it had a town centre, so it was definitely a village,) had been… strange. The people were so cordial, but something in their eyes was just empty. It reminded Jeremy of what school looked like from a distance, but more literally this time. Myrene had said hi to some of them, and sold the poor fox to the local butcher, and paid for clean (chicken?) meat. “Dinner,” she said again, and Jeremy didn’t complain at all. 

The village was, in all of his mighty eloquence, pretty. He was too tired to think of a better adjective. Picturesque maybe? No, that sounded too condescending in his head and this village was too pretty for that. Lanterns hung from the roofs of some houses, and on wooden poles like street lamps. Pretty. A cat ran across the street they were crossing (the main street was all pavimented with flattened rocks and stuff! Wow!)

They finally, finally got to a- cottage? (Yeah, it looked like a cottage, although Myrene didn’t look like a cottage person, more cabin-like, he thought)at the edge of the village, the structure looked pretty stable and had a bit of weeds growing on the front wall, very pretty (he really needed to find a different adjective.) He then realized that he had, in fact, followed a stranger to a second location, which happened to be their house, and there was a real possibility of getting murdered. What a genius he was.

They entered the place, and it almost made him relax. Not too cozy, but it looked lived-in, with some books on a shelf and some on the (living room?) table. Lived-in, but not as “lived-in” as his own home, thankfully. This place was devoid of any beer bottles or trash bags forgotten in a corner. He didn’t even mind the axe hanging down from a wall, at this point. 

An axe? An axe! His brain jumped between finding it “so so so cool” and “oh my god, I’m gonna get murdered.”

When all Myrene did was approach her kitchen,(it didn’t have a stove, per se, that would be ridiculous to find if this was the kind of game Jeremy supposed it was, but it did have something resembling a stove- no, he didn’t know what it was called, thank you) pull out a kettle from under the (sink?) and started making tea, or something tea-adjacent. Jeremy hoped it wasn’t tanglad tea, he didn’t like it very much (although Michael loved it.) But if it was tanglad tea, he wouldn’t complain, because he was a guest (if he wasn’t the next murder victim, that was his closest guess) and it would be rude to reject food if offered.

When the water boiled, he was indeed offered tea, but it didn’t smell like lemongrass, so he was happy with that. He still didn’t drink it, though. It would be far more stupid than any other decision he had taken today regarding stranger-danger protocol.

“It’s not poison, if that’s what keeping you. It’s chamomile,” Myrene said, after seeing him hesitate. 

“It could be a sleep potion or something else, though,” he replied, absentmindedly, before realizing what he just said. He tried to correct it, but he probably made it worse by saying “Sorry I, I don’t mean it in a distrust way. I mean, yes, you’re a stranger and I don’t want to die and I don’t know where I am and I followed a stranger to a second location and, oh god that makes it sound so much worse I’m so sorry,” he babbled. Curse his mouth, he should never speak again after this.

Before he could spiral more, he heard a tired chuckle, before a “So you do have self-preservation instincts! I was starting to worry about it, new players usually try to escape sooner.”

That worried Jeremy a bit. 

“Escape? Will, um, you’ll try to kill me?” He asked, very intelligently.

“No. But people seem to think I will, I’ve noticed,” she sounded amused, which should be good for his lifespan.

“What will you do?”

“Probably wait until you drink the god damn healing drink before explaining stuff to you, if it isn’t an inconvenience.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, even Jeremy, known for his lack of sarcasm abilities, could see it. He threw his so-called self-preservation instincts out of the window and promptly drunk the tea.

OH NEW CHARACYER :0

She seems so cool omg ✨

Also don’t call your dialogue awful - it’s great :(( /gen

One thing I noticed is that at the end I think it should be ‘drank the tea’ rather than ‘drunk the tea’? Not sure if it’s grammatically correct rn

But YIPPPEE I LOVE THIS

[sweet-symphony0]

1, 4, 10, and 15 for any of your fics you want to talk about!

1. What is a piece of symbolism in your fic?

Oh, this is a good one! I had to go back and reread all my fics to find something but-

In Dance Me to the End of Love, it’s definitely Joe’s ballet shoes. He keeps them with him even after he quits, he brings them everywhere he goes, because to him, it’s a (physical) symbol of something he lost, but something he’s also loved and desperately clinging onto in the hopes that he can get back to. And while he doesn’t ever throw those shoes out, or ever wear them again, they’re a keepsake of his old life, a reminder of what was, and what could have been.

4. What's something you've researched but haven't incorporated into your fic?

So much for Legacy, I can’t even list it all, though most of it was incorporated. The research I did for that story pales in comparison to anything I’d done prior.

-I researched directors and what films they’d done before, because I wanted to make sure the (real) director I chose in the end would be good for a teacher biopic, even though I ultimately went with Sam Esmail, selfishly.

-I looked at the studios and their execs, to make sure I had the names and job positions right.

-I already knew how to make a budget, so everything in chapter three and four is fairly accurate, but researched what the process would be once the budget was made and how films get made and funded.

-I looked at Hamlet again since the first time in over a decade, to make sure I knew it well enough to explain Rami being able to teach it; I looked at which monologues I wanted and what I felt would be the one to include in the end. For him to teach it, I had to teach it myself, and I looked at curriculum for 10th and 11th grade AP English courses.

-The Belasco theatre is a real theatre in LA, and it’s where the wrap party for Raising Ambition is held. I can’t tell you how many tabs I had open to research venues, how big the capacity was for each place, and if they allowed kids (this story is fictional, I know).

10. What is your favourite au? Have you written anything for it?

It’s the same as the one I listed above: I would say my dance AU, where Joe is a professional ballet dancer to leave it behind to go into acting, really is one of my favorites. I’ll never finish that fic, but damn is it good, and boy am I proud of it. You can find that here.

15. Tell us a fun fact about your fic/wip!

I’ve talked about this before, but in all my twin Tuesday fics, at some point in the story, those twins share a moment where one of them squeezes the other’s wrist, in a silent gesture of affection. It’s an “I got you,” gesture, and I love writing it in and seeing if anyone picks up on it.

Similarly, in all my mazlek fics, the first article of clothing Joe almost always removes from what Rami is wearing, is his bow tie. That one isn’t planned, but I love the image of it every time, it’s very sexy and sensual and intimate.

Lastly- I wrote Home is with You, because I had awful, awful period cramps one time, and decided my way of dealing with it was Joe being miserable with nearly the same agony, and had Rami come to his rescue 😂

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Sorry this is so long, but this was a treat! Thank you for asking!!