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afairytalestray · 1 year

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So last week I saw the UK/Int tour of Cats in Switzerland and oh. My. GOD. I have thoughts and I am going to share them right now! I have vaguely attempted to keep them organised by timeline/character but I scribbled these down at the intermission and on the bus back to my hotel as quickly as I could before I forgot anything (fully made myself travel sick but it was worth it).

Act 1

First thing I noticed was that Demeter, at the start, was so shy and skittish around the other Cats. I think they were definitely playing into the idea that she had just escaped Macavity and come home. The only one she was ok with right away was Bombalurina. They two were so sweet together – Bomba was always making sure she was ok. Dem got really into her role in the Gumbie trio and was having a great old time.

TumbleBailey got to ride on the flying trapeze during JSFJC and he was living his best life. The boy was not happy unless he was gymnastic-ing.

The lift that Munkustrap and Victoria did in ‘98 was done by Coricopat and Tantomile which I thought was fun! Always happy for my boy to get more screen time 💪

Side note: This is my third time seeing Cats, but because of Covid it was my first time getting to see the Cats all come in down the aisles at the start wearing the green goggles! I was in the front row, so I didn’t get the full effect, but it was still cool.

Tugger’s song was so much fun. Harrison Wilde was so energetic! During the number he came down off the stage into the audience (again the first time I got to see this!), and began twirling the security lady and dancing with her. 11/10. Bomba was SO PUT OUT when he said ��no” and booped her away – like, she was raging, it was so funny. Munk was so annoyed the whole time. Peak big brother energy.

I got the impression almost right away that Jennyanydots is Cori and Tanto’s mum, they were interacting quite a lot and she was always looking after them. Ditto with Skimbleshanks and Jemima - he was definitely her dad - he was so protective of her when Grizabella showed up, it was adorable! I hadn’t considered that relationship before (despite my love of Skimbledad), so it was super fun.

This Misto does not like rice pudding, this is not a drill! The face he pulled during that line in Bustopher Jones was hilarious, he looked so disgusted. Misto was definitely more of an adult than he was in ‘98 or the Broadway Revival. Liam Mower is a bloody FANTASTIC dancer; I couldn’t take my eyes off him! He was clearly loving life and I appreciated every moment.

This production said Casslonzo RIGHTS and we love to see it. They kept on snuggling up to each other when they were in the background and you can bet your ass I noticed EVERY TIME. We stan a power couple of protectors. Alonzo’s actor Sebastian Goffin's voice was so deep and I was LIVING. Like I was not expecting this voice to come out of this man. Twas brilliant. Cassandra was so beautiful I nearly cried like ma’am PLEASE HAVE MERCY. She was definitely an obvious protector with how she was always looking out for the other Cats. Also during the first song she was lying right in front of me and I had to try so hard not to explode.

Old Deuteronomy was such a loving dad to everyone, he had such a warm vibe and energy and I just wanted to hug him! Like all of these Cats were his babies and he adored them all. He and Jerrie and Teazer had a wee “oh, you”/slightly nervous giggling moment when they had just come back on stage after getting busted in their number and it was excellent.

Cori and Tanto were definitely portrayed as younger than they were in ‘98. Cori in particular reminded me of Misto from ‘98; like an adult and everything, but a young one who still had a bit of kittenish energy. Their wigs were pleated up the sides which I thought was unique and cool, I don’t think I’ve seen Cats wigs like that before! Cori was so pissed when Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer ran under his and Tanto’s arms during the back-and-forth dialogue-y bit of the Jellicle Ball and interrupted them. He enjoyed hissing a lot which I can respect. Nothing but love for my hissy prince. I actually think Milan was covered by a swing on my night. There wasn’t anything saying so, but I don’t think it was Milan? Idk, it could’ve just been the lights or my position. Either way, loved her. This tour gave the twins so many characteristics unique to it and they will definitely affect my headcanons from now on.

RETURN OF THE SKIMBLETABLE.

Ok but every time Grizabella showed up, Munk genuinely looked like he wanted to/was about to cry, which I thought was an awesome bit of character work. I really got the impression that she was his mum, and she had abandoned him when she left the tribe. Russell Dickson was trying to make me feel things and he succeeded, I was so invested in his performance.

Also, during the ball, he was sitting just below Old Doots on his tyre who was patting his shoulders. A WHOLE DAD AND HIS BOY.

Jemima’s actress Lottie Stephens was also a fantastic dancer who was leaning just on the edge of cryptid and I loved it.

Plato spent a lot of time trying to look like a very distinguished boy and it was so cute. He definitely still had some kittenish moments though. He wass definitely learning to be a protector; every time there was a protector moment on stage he was there, just to the side or behind the others, looking nervous but wanting to make Munk and co. proud.

Act 2

OK OK OK Moments of Happiness? Not usually my favourite song of the show, but there were two excellent moments of personal happiness for me. First, Shakeel’s Cori slinked right over in front of my seat and I became even more unhinged than before, to the surprise of probably 0 people. But SECOND was omg, so Demeter and Munk were sitting a bit apart at the front of the stage and the atmosphere and chemistry between them was literally off the charts. Dem had become more comfy around most of the other Cats throughout Act 1, but here she was acting really nervous and shy. So the two of them locked eyes for a moment and it was EVERYTHING. Like I cannot describe in a human language what they made me feel at that moment but it was SO MANY. Dem almost immediately looked away all shy like, but Munk kept looking at her until the end of the song in the most softest beautiful way. Like omg the acting was SO GOOD and I’m still not normal about it. Like you could tell both of them really liked each other but were too nervous to do anything about it and inside I was screeching infinitely.

Jellylorum my Queen. Aimee Hodnett was actually mind blowing I was totally enraptured. Her expressions and vocals were outstanding. When Old Doots said to Gus “you could do it again” before Pekes and Polls her face was like ‘exsqueeze me sir what are you doing? Desist immediately!’ But then she got involved and it was great.

I really enjoyed that Gus and Munk shared the narration of Pekes and Polls. Gus’ actor Hal Fowler was so expressive and dramatic and everyone was loving it and laughing along with him, and Munk still got his stressed-theatre-director moment.

TumbleBailey was super put out when Gus had his “youths today” lines, like, he proper turned around, folded his arms, and sulked. He was a whole baby and it was precious. PounceBucketty looked a bit more maturely cowed (he was definitelythe big brother of the two), but Cori was actually DEVO’D. Like my boy was so hurt, he needed a big hug from Tanto before Skimble’s song started. Tbh my reaction to Shakeel’s acting throughout the show was practically feral. On the outside I was calm, but inside it was like Guy Fawkes Night, Christmas, and Hogmanay all rolled into one.

Both Cori and Jerrie seemed to be close pals with Tugger – Cori even got a Tugger hug at one point. Shakeel’s Cori is very cuddly and I love it with all my soul. He doesn’t seem to like Jerrie all that much though, which is hilarious to me as a dedicated Coricojerrie stan. Good thing enemies to lovers is a popular trope amirite 👀

Jerrie has so much respect for Skimble it was so sweet. He was really active all throughout his song, helping him out and pointing out when others weren’t doing what they should be (the irony) during the “hilarity and riot” lines. Top notch stuff. He was also the bottom step of the Skimblestairs at the end of the song.

He definitely has respect for Alonzo as well, he was always on his best behaviour when Lonz was nearby. I loved these little character relationship decisions SO MUCH, like you could tell the actors had put a lot of thought into their characters and that they truly cared about the show.

Bomba was in the background for parts of Skimbleshanks, but she started making flexing motions at the “weak or strong” line and Tugger was next to her ooh-ing and ahh-ing appropriately. It sparked so much joy y’all I love her forever.

SPEAKING OF BOMBA HYPE – Macavity. Omg the song slapped! Dem was super spooked, but Bomba? She was absolutely ripping the piss out of Macavity and I loved every second. Not a single facial expression missed, every one clearly read: oh, you think you’re hot stuff? You’ve got NOTHING YOU LOSER. She was so smirky and sassy, almost like she was challenging him to come and have a go.

Macavity Fight was A++ 5 gold stars stuff. Demeter has a moment when “Old Doots” comes back, and it was great how at first everyone was like, “girl wtf get a grip,” only to be like OMG MACAVITY when my Queen rips into him. Mac starts to drag Dem away and then Munk starts to batter him. The fight was super dramatic and gripping, and when Munk went down he went down HARD. But then we got this magical moment when the whole tribe was like “NOT TODAY SATAN” and started fighting back together, and I feel like this production made more out of this moment than others do. Of course it wrecked me, because I am weak. (Also the Cat standing over Munk and protecting him was my angel Cori so I was delighted by that.) After that, Dem and Munk said Demestrap supremacy and the image was so magical of them nuzzling in the light of the single lamp when everything else was dark, it was *chef's kiss*.

So like, I was never sure why I wasn’t the biggest fan of the new Quaxo look for this tour, but now I think it’s because it’s just a bit too different from the Mistoffelees costume? Like I know Jenny also has a really dramatic costume change, but that change happens on stage and we see her transform. But for Misto, this change happens off-stage and we don’t get to see it, so it just seems a bit less smooth of a transition. I know Mistoffelees is kinda like the stage persona of Quaxo, but I guess I prefer it when they’re clearly the same Cat. I presume this was intentional but, and you’re supposed to be like, omg is that really him? But idk, just not my personal fave.

Having said that, IT WAS STILL LITERALLY THE BEST PART OF THE SHOW FOR ME. Because I’m Misto trash so I guess it doesn’t matter. I really liked that they made it a Tugger solo again, I like that a bit better than the duet. Everyone was appropriately surprised and awed at the magic, but it obviously was not new information to Tugger, who was standing there like, “oh, haven’t you heard?”. And the only word for his expression when the dance solo started was adoration, it was so lovely how enamoured he was. And the slow lines when Tugger addresses Old D were so soft and loving and I die. So my hc for this production is that they were close friends up till this point (and Tugger is the only one who knew about the magic), and this is when Tugger realises, oh, I LIKE like him. May write a thing around this later because I am predictable and basic and easily pleased. Also Cass was so nervous about being Misto’s chosen assistant – she wasn’t even volunteering when he picked her! It was such a cute moment.

Then there was more Casslonzo lounging in the background when Grizzy showed up again. Ok so all throughout the show I was worried about Memory, because Jacinta White started really strong in Act 1, and she did again with her big solo and I was like, oh no this is going to fizzle where can it go from here? I have never been happier to be a fool and a jester. That woman has some set of pipes I was blown away. Think my jaw might have literally dropped.

The bows were fab, but especially TumbleBailey. He came out last as usual and did his flippy flips across the stage, but then he decided to do an extra backwards one, and I don't think it was planned as he nearly kicked Jacinta and Martin (Doots) in the face and they looked surprised. Either that or they're really good actors! Everyone was fine though, and they were laughing about it.

But yeah. So glad I splurged on my Swiss weekend and saw this show. Worth it.

FIN

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bangerbattlethemes · 1 year

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good thing i had a meme prepared for this

ANYWAY this was a blast i'm happy we managed to sweep to semifinals at least this was really such a wild ride (esp with the limbussers)

good luck to glamour and fly octo fly in the finals and thank you mods for making this twas truly a pleasure

ooh my god mod merrin and I are LOSING it over this

this is so sweet though, thank you! I've had such a fun time with this and I'm glad you're all enjoying it too

#ask #mod azura

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likeniobe · 11 months

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andrew marvell, "the nymph complaining for the death of her fawn"

The wanton troopers riding by Have shot my fawn, and it will die. Ungentle men! they cannot thrive To kill thee. Thou ne’er didst alive Them any harm, alas, nor could Thy death yet do them any good. I’m sure I never wish’d them ill, Nor do I for all this, nor will; But if my simple pray’rs may yet Prevail with Heaven to forget Thy murder, I will join my tears Rather than fail. But oh, my fears! It cannot die so. Heaven’s King Keeps register of everything, And nothing may we use in vain. Ev’n beasts must be with justice slain, Else men are made their deodands; Though they should wash their guilty hands In this warm life-blood, which doth part From thine, and wound me to the heart, Yet could they not be clean, their stain Is dyed in such a purple grain. There is not such another in The world to offer for their sin.

Unconstant Sylvio, when yet I had not found him counterfeit One morning (I remember well) Tied in this silver chain and bell, Gave it to me; nay, and I know What he said then; I’m sure I do. Said he, “Look how your huntsman here Hath taught a fawn to hunt his dear.” But Sylvio soon had me beguil’d, This waxed tame, while he grew wild; And quite regardless of my smart, Left me his fawn, but took his heart.

Thenceforth I set myself to play My solitary time away, With this, and very well content Could so mine idle life have spent; For it was full of sport, and light Of foot and heart, and did invite Me to its game; it seem’d to bless Itself in me. How could I less Than love it? Oh, I cannot be Unkind t’ a beast that loveth me.

Had it liv’d long, I do not know Whether it too might have done so As Sylvio did; his gifts might be Perhaps as false or more than he. But I am sure, for aught that I Could in so short a time espy, Thy love was far more better then The love of false and cruel men.

With sweetest milk and sugar first I it at mine own fingers nurst; And as it grew, so every day It wax’d more white and sweet than they. It had so sweet a breath! And oft I blush’d to see its foot more soft And white, shall I say than my hand? Nay, any lady’s of the land.

It is a wond’rous thing how fleet ’Twas on those little silver feet; With what a pretty skipping grace It oft would challenge me the race; And when ’t had left me far away, ’Twould stay, and run again, and stay, For it was nimbler much than hinds, And trod, as on the four winds.

I have a garden of my own, But so with roses overgrown And lilies, that you would it guess To be a little wilderness; And all the spring time of the year It only loved to be there. Among the beds of lilies I Have sought it oft, where it should lie; Yet could not, till itself would rise, Find it, although before mine eyes; For, in the flaxen lilies’ shade, It like a bank of lilies laid. Upon the roses it would feed Until its lips ev’n seemed to bleed, And then to me ’twould boldly trip And print those roses on my lip. But all its chief delight was still On roses thus itself to fill, And its pure virgin limbs to fold In whitest sheets of lilies cold. Had it liv’d long it would have been Lilies without, roses within.

O help, O help! I see it faint, And die as calmly as a saint. See how it weeps! The tears do come, Sad, slowly dropping like a gum. So weeps the wounded balsam, so The holy frankincense doth flow; The brotherless Heliades Melt in such amber tears as these.

I in a golden vial will Keep these two crystal tears, and fill It till it do o’erflow with mine, Then place it in Diana’s shrine.

Now my sweet fawn is vanish’d to Whither the swans and turtles go, In fair Elysium to endure With milk-white lambs and ermines pure. O do not run too fast, for I Will but bespeak thy grave, and die.

First my unhappy statue shall Be cut in marble, and withal Let it be weeping too; but there Th’ engraver sure his art may spare, For I so truly thee bemoan That I shall weep though I be stone; Until my tears, still dropping, wear My breast, themselves engraving there. There at my feet shalt thou be laid, Of purest alabaster made; For I would have thine image be White as I can, though not as thee.

#texts #diss #17

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darry-rules · 4 months

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laughing Jack

It was a nice summer day, my 5-year-old son James was playing outside in the backyard of our suburban home. James has always been a quiet boy, he plays by himself mostly, he never had many friends, but he has always had a wild imagination. I was in the kitchen feeding our dog Fido, when I heard what sounded like James talking to someone in the backyard. I’m not sure who it was he could be talking to, could he have finally made a friend? Being a single mom it’s hard for me to always keep an eye on my son, so I decided to go outside and check on him.

When I went into the backyard I was a bit confused, because James was the only person back there. Was he talking to himself? I could have sworn I heard another voice. “James! It’s time to come inside.” I called out to him. He came inside and sat down at the kitchen table, it was about lunchtime so I decided to make him a turkey sandwich. “James. Who were you talking to out there?” I asked. James looked up for a moment, “I was playing with my new friend,” he said smiling. I poured him some milk and continued to pry, as any good mother would. “Does your friend have a name? Why didn’t you ask him to have lunch with us?” I asked. James stared at me for a moment before replying, “His name is Laughing Jack.” I was a bit taken back by what he had said. “Oh? That’s a strange name. What does your friend look like?” I asked a bit confused. “He’s a clown. He has long hair and a big swirly cone nose. He’s got long arms and baggy pants, with stripy socks, and he always smiles.” I realized my son was talking about an imaginary friend. I suppose it is normal for kids his age to have imaginary friends, especially when he has no real kids to play with. It’s probably just a phase.

The rest of the day went by as per usual, and it was starting to get late so I put James to bed. I tucked him in, gave him a kiss, and made sure to turn on his nightlight before I closed the door. I was pretty tired myself so I decided to go to bed not long after. I had an awful nightmare…

It was dark. I was in some kind of rundown amusement park. I was scared, running through an endless field of empty tents, broken down rides, and abandoned game huts. The whole place had a horrible look to it. Everything was black and white, the prize stuffed animals all hung from nooses in the game huts, all with sick grins stitched on their faces. It felt like the whole park was looking at me, even though there wasn’t another living thing in sight. Then suddenly, I began to hear music play. The sounds of Pop Goes the Weasel being played on a squeezebox echoed through the park, it was hypnotizing. I followed its tune to the circus tent almost in a trance, unable to stop my legs from moving forward. It was pitch black, the only light came from a single spotlight shining on the center of the big top. As I walked toward the light the music slowed down, I found myself singing along unable to stop.

“All around the mulberry bush

The monkey chased the weasel

The monkey though twas all in fun…”

The music stopped right before its climax, and suddenly the lights shot on. The intensity of the lights was practically blinding, all I could see was a small dark silhouette shuffle towards me. Then another one appeared, and another, and another. There were dozens of them, all coming toward me. I couldn’t move, my legs were frozen, all I could do was watch as the haunting figures drew nearer. As they got closer I could see… THEY WERE CHILDREN! As I looked at each one I noticed they were all horribly disfigured and mutilated. Some had cuts all over their body, others were severely burnt, and others were missing limbs, even eyes! The children enveloped me, clawing at my flesh, dragging me to the ground, and tearing inside me. As the children tore me apart and I faded away, all I could hear was laughter, horrible, awful, evil, laughter.

I woke up the next morning in a cold sweat. After taking a few deep breaths I looked over and saw that a few of James’ action figures were positioned facing me on top of my nightstand. I sighed, James had probably woken up early and put these here. I gathered up the toys and made my way to James’ room, however when I opened the door James was sound asleep. I just shrugged and placed the toys back into his toy box, and headed out to the living room. A little while later James woke up and I made him his breakfast. He was quiet and seemed a bit groggy, perhaps he didn’t sleep well either. I decided to ask him about the toys, “James honey, did you put the toys in mommy’s room this morning?” His eyes shot up at me for a moment then quickly glanced back down at his cereal. “Laughing Jack did it.” I rolled my eyes and responded, “Well you tell ‘Laughing Jack’ to keep the toys in your room.” James nodded and finished up his breakfast, then decided to go play out in the back yard.

I went to relax in the living room and I must have dozed off, because I woke up a couple hours later. “Shit! I need to check on James.” I was a bit worried, it had been over 2 hours and I haven’t checked on him. I went stepped out into the backyard, but James wasn’t there anymore. I was getting nervous so I called out to him, “JAMES! JAMES WHERE ARE YOU?!” Just then I heard a giggle come from the front yard. I rushed through the gate around to the front of the house. James was sitting on the sidewalk. I breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to him, “James how many times have I told you to stay in the backya… James, what are you eating?” James looked up at me then reached into his pocket and pulled out a hand full of hard candies in all colors. This made me very nervous, “James, who gave you that candy?” James just stared at me not speaking. “JAMES! Please, tell mommy where you got that candy.” James hung his head down and said “Laughing Jack gave it to me.” My heart sunk, I kneeled down to look him in the eye, “ James I’ve had had enough of this damn Laughing Jack thing, HE IS NOT REAL! Now this is a very serious situation and I need to know who gave you the candy!” I could see my son’s eyes tear up, “But mama, Laughing Jack DID give me the candy.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, James has never lied to me but what he’s telling me is impossible. I make him spit out the candy and I throw the rest away, James appears to be fine. Maybe I’m just overreacting after all he could have gotten it from Tom and Linda from next door, or Mr. Walker down the street. Either way I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on James. That night I put James to bed as usual, and decided to go to bed early myself.

Suddenly I was woken up by a loud bang coming from the kitchen. I sprung out of bed and hurried down the stairs. When I got to the kitchen I was horrified. Every thing on the counters had been thrown on the floor, and our dog Fido hung dead from the light fixture. His stomach was cut open and stuffed with candy, the same type that James was eating earlier that day. My shock was quickly broken by a sharp scream coming from James’ room followed by loud crashes. I quickly grabbed a knife from the drawer and moved up the stairs with the speed that only a mother whose child is in danger could have. I burst through the door and flicked on the lights. Everything in the room was knocked over and tossed on the floor, my poor son in his bed crying and shaking with fear, a pool of urine staining the sheets. I scooped my child up and ran out of the house and went next door to Tom and Linda’s house, Luckily they were still awake. They let me use their phone and I called the police. It didn’t take them long to arrive, and I explained what had happened, they looked at me as if I were crazy. They searched the house, but all they found was a dead dog and 2 trashed rooms. The officer told me that someone had probably gotten into the house and done this right before making a quick escape when they heard me coming up the stairs. I knew it wasn’t true. All the doors were locked and none of the windows were open, whatever was in my house didn’t come from outside.

The next day James stayed inside, I didn’t want him to leave my sight. I went into the garage and found his old baby monitor and set it up in his room, if anything comes into his room tonight, I was going to be able to hear it. I went to the kitchen and grabbed the largest knife from the drawer and put it on my nightstand. Imaginary friend or not, I’m not letting anything hurt my little boy.

Soon enough night came. I put James to bed, he was afraid, but I promised him that I wasn’t going to let anything happen to him. I tucked him in, gave him a kiss, and turned on the nightlight. Before closing the door I whispered to him “Goodnight James, I love you.”

I tried to stay up as long as I could, but after a few hours I felt myself drifting off. My baby would be safe for the night and I needed to sleep. Just as I lay my head on the pillow I heard a soft noise come form the baby monitor I had put on my nightstand. At first it sounded like interference, like the kind a radio would make. Then it turned into a soft moan. Was James asleep? Then I heard it, the laugh from my nightmare, that horrible laugh. I sprung up from bed and grabbed the knife from under my pillow. I rushed over to James’ room and creaked the door open. I tried the light switch but it wouldn’t come on. I took a step in and I could feel the warm thick liquid on my feet. Suddenly James’ nightlight came on and I could see the absolute horror laid out in front of me.

James’ body was nailed up on the wall, the nails piercing through his hands and feet. His chest was cut wide open and his organs hung down to the floor. His eyes and tongue had been removed along with most of his teeth. I was disgusted, I could hardly believe this was my baby boy. Then I heard it again, the soft desperate moan. JAMES WAS STILL ALIVE! My baby, my poor baby, in so much pain barely clinging to life. I ran across the room and vomited on the floor, but my sickness was interrupted by a horrible cackle coming from behind me. I spun around while still wiping bile from my mouth, then out of the shadows emerged the fiend responsible for all this horror, Laughing Jack. His ghost white skin and matted black hair hung down to his shoulders. He had piercing white eyes surrounded by dark black rings. His twisted smile revealed a row of sharp jagged teeth, and his skin didn’t look like skin at all, it almost looked like rubber or plastic. He wore a patchy, black and white clown outfit with striped sleeved and socks. His body itself was grotesque, his long arms hanging down past his waist and the way he was poised made him look almost boneless, like a ragdoll. He let out a sickening laugh as if to let me know he was pleased with my reaction to his ‘work’. He then turned around slowly in front of James and began to laugh even more at the horrific sight he has laid out. That was enough to shake me from my terror, I snapped, “GET AWAY FROM HIM YOU BASTARD!” I rushed at the monster raising the knife above my head, and stabbed down at him, but as soon as the knife touched him he disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. The knife passed right through and pierced James’ still beating heart, splashing the warm blood on my face….

No… what have I done? My baby, I killed my baby! I immediately fell to my knees, and I could hear sirens in the distance growing louder… My boy, my sweet baby boy… I promised mommy would protect you… But I failed… I’m sorry James… I’m so sorry…

Police soon arrived to find me in front of my son, still wielding the knife covered in my baby’s blood. The trial was short, insanity. I was placed in the Phiropoulos House for the Criminally Insane, where I have been for the past 2 months. Its not so bad here, the only reason I’m awake now is because someone is playing Pop Goes the Weasel outside my window… I’ll talk to the orderlies about it in the morning…

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the7thcrow · 2 years

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I posted 764 times in 2022

That's 156 more posts than 2021!

235 posts created (31%)

529 posts reblogged (69%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@the7thcrow

@sorikkung

@hongism

@svnthpop

I tagged 755 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#corynn thinks - 234 posts

#asks - 95 posts

#srb - 91 posts

#mutual pals🕺🏼 - 60 posts

#fic recs - 50 posts

#corynn:💡 - 36 posts

#natgig feedback - 35 posts

#male wife - 33 posts

#itzy - 20 posts

#my enemy <3 - 20 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#have definitely been thinking about the need to work on my protagonist building though and i think the amount of strictly reader insert

My Top Posts in 2022:

Not all that Glitters is Gold -> 07

series pairing: (fem) princess!reader x seonghwa x san x wooyoung. eventual polyamory.

series masterlist | previous chapter

Part Seven: an orphanage, an elemental, and comfort

series rating: 16+

series genre: action and adventure. romance. angst. fluff. suggestive. fantasy au.

series warnings: character death, blood and violence, weaponry, injury, suggestive content, mxm content, elements of misogyny, language, monsters. (will only be using chapter specific warnings for things not included on this list.)

summary: as a princess fleeing a royal assassination attempt, you have no choice but to put your trust in a band of three thieves in order to reach the kingdom of kuroku alive. however, amongst magic, deceit, and the bounty hunters that are hot on your trail, you realize that you might have stumbled upon a relationship far more complicated than what meets the eye.

chapter details beneath the cut ->

See the full post

268 notes - Posted November 17, 2022

toxin | psh

pairing: historian!seonghwa x (fem) goddess!reader.

wc: 9.4k

genre: meet-ugly. angst. suggestive. magic au. god/goddess au.

summary: having fallen victim to a rather bizarre betrayal by a colleague, seonghwa finds himself in an even more bizarre situation. that being the unexpected success of their summoning ritual that leaves him subject to the will of a fertility goddess, as well as his own intemperate desire.

warnings: cults and cult activities, character death, religious tones (although any relation to a real religion is strictly coincidental, this is entirely made up), guns and violence, blood, mild gore, elements of mind control, heavy making out, aphrodisiac of sorts (?), generally dominant and submissive tones.

a/n: that’s.. a lot more warnings than i originally intended there to be. lmao oops. maybe i’m a tad insane for this, but if you’re also insane and prepared for a wild ride, strap in and enjoy. twas inspired by the ponzonya mv by purple kiss.

... .. .

“Something about this seems… off,” Seonghwa whispers, voice low so that only the man next to him is able to hear. The reasoning for his hushed tone is abundantly clear, eyes darting around the room to ensure that none of the others might be listening. That none of them are aware of his hesitancy, of his nervous reluctance.

Fortunately, they don’t seem to notice. The cave bustles with activity, the different men dressed in dark robes busying themselves as they prepare the room for the ritual. Dressing the once dreary cave with items of luxury, they carry large silk tapestries and golden decor, dragging in velvet furniture and barrels of expensive wine, so that the room appears fit for royalty.

Although Seonghwa supposes that in a way, after all, it is. Although the subject may be considered to hold far grander superiority than any earthly king may hope to achieve.

“Are we certain this is a good idea?” He presses a little further, nudging the man next to him, who’s name he’s learned is Hongjoong. Although eccentric, he seems to be a tad more understanding than the rest of his colleagues. After the past few weeks of this mess, he’s the closest thing that the historian could consider as a friend.

Although the fact stands that for all the kindness and sympathy the small, delicate man seems to offer, he also is the head of this organization.

“Cult,” Seonghwa reminds himself, because organization is simply too light a term to define exactly what he’s gotten himself caught up in. “He’s the head of a cult.”

“Don’t fret, Dr. Park,” Hongjoong replies, accompanied by far too easy of a smile, as his hands dust along the altar before him, tracing the carved runes with his fingers. “It will all be worth it, you’ll see.”

“I just,” Seonghwa starts again, swallowing deeply as he glances around the room. There’s an itch under his skin, one that screams for him to stop this whole disaster, that something is undeniably wrong. “I’m just not sure about this.”

The smile on Hongjoong’s face falls almost immediately, eyebrows furrowing together in concern. “You’re not telling me that you’re getting cold feet now, are you?” He asks, and although his tone is far more worried than accusatory, there is something of an edge to them, an unspoken warning.

The underlying message that hints if Seonghwa really were to be having cold feet, then the sweetness of his words and their friendship could quickly turn sour.

“No, of course not,” Seonghwa rushes quickly, nails digging into his palm in a desperate release of panic, as he plasters a smile onto his face. “It’s just that the air feels a little different today, don’t you think? A little off?”

Hongjoong nods in agreement, although the gesture shows far more eagerness and excitement compared to the sick nausea Seongwha feels.

“I feel it too,” Hongjoong states, before clasping both his hands on Seonghwa’s shoulders, shaking him slightly. “It means we’re about to do something extraordinary.”

With that the man leaves his side, most likely to check that everything else is in order. That all artifacts and sigils for the ceremony are in the proper place and planned to perfection.

Artifacts. Seonghwa can’t help but chuckle at the word, at the entire foundation of his life's work that has led him to this moment.

As a historian and archeologist, he always liked to believe that his work would bring him to new places and adventures. That he’d get to travel to ancient lands, and dig up the remnants of their history and beauty, to walk with past societies as if they were his own.

Well, he supposes that the universe may have taken these wishes a little too literally.

When Hongjoong first arrived at the historian’s makeshift office a few weeks ago, nestled deep within the forest and about a mile’s walk from the nearest village, he was in search of an artifact that Seonghwa had recently added to his collection of study. Upon first meeting, the historian had found the man delightful.

They’d talked over brandy for the utmost of three hours, discussing the ancient religion native to the area, and their different perspectives and findings. Hongjoong, he learned, was very well-versed in the identities and roles of the many different gods and goddesses, and had plenty to offer that Seonghwa had yet to discover in texts of his own.

Of course at the moment, Seonghwa didn’t know why Hongjoong was so well acquainted with this myth. If he had, perhaps he would have kindly said goodbye to the younger man, before proceeding to usher him out of the office and lock the door behind him.

But Seonghwa did not know this at the time, so instead - after an entire evening of pleasant conversation - he accepted Hongjoong’s invitation to view his own collection of artifacts and ancient texts back at the man’s apartment the following night.

And so one evening turned into two, and then two into three, and over the next couple weeks it was safe to say that a certain level of trust had been established between them. This was Hongjoong’s plan after all, to establish a bond before he started to introduce the more… eccentric parts of his research.

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368 notes - Posted May 13, 2022

atonement

pairing: witch!wooyoung x (fem) hunter!reader

summary: get in, get the job done, get out before sunrise. as a hunter that is your motto, a sacred rule for whenever you dare to enter a witch’s lair. however, on this particular solo quest, your plans take a turn that you never could have quite anticipated.

word count: 6.2k

genre: enemies to lovers au. supernatural au. suggestive. romance.

warnings: sacrilegious tones, knives, attempted murder, themes of misogyny (not from wooyoung), heavy making out, bondage but make it magical.

rating: 16+

a/n: this is self-indulgent. i just needed to write some woo enemies to lovers, okay? don’t judge me.

...

Get in, get the job done, get out before sunrise.

A mantra that you can’t help but repeat over and over in your mind as you make your way down the narrow alleyway, footsteps echoing against the lantern-lit, cobblestone path. You press your hand firmly against the knife fastened to your thigh, feeling it’s cool metal hilt even through the fabric of your dress. The only source of protection against the danger you are willingly approaching.

The danger you’ve approached countless times before, but then again, never alone. That is exactly what makes tonight different, what makes the risk tenfold. You’re entirely on your own this time round, none of your hunting band willing to join you on this particular little escapade. All too frightened to approach the rumours that have been plaguing your city these last couple months.

The alleyway takes another turn, and you find yourself on a main drag, doing your best to hurry as you sprint across the street before hiding yourself once more. A woman out this late is thought to be unseemly, as well as dangerous. The last thing you need is to catch the attention of the wrong set of eyes, whether it be gossip or something far more sinister you might catch yourself up in.

These thoughts are put to a halt as you see your destination further down the alley, a small shop, the only light emitted from the run-down building shining through it’s single stained window.

As you approach closer, you can see that the sign hanging above the shop simply reads “Artisan Goods.” No semblance of creativity or personable flare, but of course, it doesn’t need one.

Because it’s not actually an artisan goods store, it’s simply masquerading to be.

You approach the window, peeking inside to see if there are any other customers. If there are, you will wait until they are gone, until any possible witnesses for what you are about to do are out of the way.

Fortunately, you see that the shop is empty of any buyers. The only person inside being the owner, who currently has his back turned as he adjusts the display of goods stationed behind the counter.

The exact man you’re looking for tonight.

You adjust your hair, doing your best to look poised and put-together as you take a deep breath, preparing for your act. Deception is something you’ve trained well in, and you know the in’s and out’s of fooling a man.

There are two major rules: Look attractive and keep them distracted. You pull both off, they always let their guard down. Every single time.

You push open the door, the soft jingle of the entry bell ringing as you do so, pulling the man’s attention from the display to yourself.

“Ah, welcome,” he says, setting down the jar of jam in his hands and facing you fully. He has dark hair, parted in the middle and falling long over his eyes. A sharp jawline, tall nose-bridge, and straight teeth. He’s handsome, but that comes as no surprise. All witches are attractive, as well as vein. They have magic to make themselves beautiful, and you have yet to meet one that didn’t refrain from using it.

Your hunting group states this is a sin, a defiance against creation. Frankly, you couldn’t care less, spells for vanity are the very least of the dangers that witches are capable of.

“Can I help you find anything in particular?” He asks, watching you with a curious look. It’s late for a woman to be out by herself, and he is fully aware of that. You won’t be able to catch him off guard at the moment, but luckily you are prepared for this.

“Chrysopoeia,” you state, silently reveling in the way the man smiles, expression shifting from wary to delighted. The term is the name of an old alchemical text, written by the witch Cleopatra herself. However, it doubles as a code in occult circles around the city, a way of proving that you are also a practitioner of the dark arts. They change every couple months, and fortunately for you, it hasn’t since your last hunt.

The man grins, walking out from behind the counter and pulling a pair of keys from his pocket. He moves over to a wall of tapestries, gently peeling back the fabrics to reveal a hidden door.

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431 notes - Posted January 8, 2022

not all that glitters is gold: mlist ♛

series trailer I series playlist

series pairing: (fem) princess!reader x seonghwa x san x wooyoung. eventual polyamory.

series genre: action and adventure. romance. angst. fluff. suggestive. fantasy au.

current word count: 87.9k

chapter list:

part one: a sacrifice, a narrow escape, and three bandits. (10.0k)

“Where are we going to go?” You ask as Mingi removes his cloak, handing the garment over to you. You put it on, throwing the hood over your head. Best to take any precautions available.

“Assuming we get out of here alive,” he starts, checking to see if the horse’s saddle is in proper condition. “Kuroku.”

part two: a thrice stolen necklace, two scorpions, and a lie. (10.1k)

Your neck feels abnormally bare. Naked, the last part of your home falling into the grasp of a thief.

“There,” you whisper, shifting your attention back to the map, not looking the elemental in the eye. “Happy?”

Woo chuckles before slipping the necklace into his back pocket. “Actually, I am.”

part three: a blacksmith, a nightmare, and oh-so-sweet empathy. (12.9k)

You feel the presence of a figure settle behind you, as San awkwardly clears his throat.

“I meant to tell you earlier,” he says, voice quiet. You can faintly see his reflection through the window as well, and his expression is somber. “I just wasn’t sure how.”

part four: an old enemy, jealousy, and a bar-room brawl. (12.3k)

You don’t even get the chance to turn around and see who it is before San speaks.

“Fuck,” he mutters beneath his breath, good eye wide as his gaze shifts from the door, to you, to the table. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

part five: a desert, a strange tavern, and the influence of desire. (16.7k)

“It’s strange for a tavern to be out here,” San comments, casting a wary glance to which you return. “I wouldn’t think there’d be much business.”

“Maybe they run off of people like us,” Woo offers with a shrug. “Fools who don’t bring enough water.”

part six: a rest-stop, illusions, and a begrudging truce. (12.7k)

And yet, something about the way San’s hand sits on his shoulder, remaining an entire arm-length away, makes him feel…small.

It’s what drives him to say his next few words, to finally let a fraction of what’s been building inside of him slip. To be selfish for once.

“Do I make you uncomfortable, San?”

part seven: an orphanage, an elemental, and comfort. (13.2k)

“Have you ever killed a person?” You ask, and Wooyoung finds he isn’t surprised by the question. He doesn’t want to answer it, but he isn’t surprised by it.

He also believes the answer is something you should hear.

“I have,” he replies. “But sometimes people are monsters too.”

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714 notes - Posted February 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

just in case | hhj

pairing: hyunjin x (gn) reader.

wc: 8.6k

genre: fluff. angst. suggestive. romcom. office au. valentine’s day au. coworkers to lovers. slight enemies to lovers.

warnings: alcohol, heavy making out, a both snarky and unreliable narrator, all around just inappropriate behaviour for a workplace (but what else would you expect from an office au lmao.)

summary: your valentine’s day plans of bad cable and a bottle of wine take an unexpected turn, as when leaving the office you witness a completely different side of your least favourite coworker, hwang hyunjin. perhaps valentine’s day really does hold a little bit of magic.

a/n: this is so disgustingly late, frankly i’m ashamed. but life and such, you know how it is. this is for the sweet treats from skz event hosted by @districtninewriters. hope you all enjoy, and i’d recommend checking out everyone else’s works!! also i lowkey resent this fic for how long it has taken me, so i hope it’s okay.

Sunday’s are the worst.

With the office being full of coworkers hungover and regretful from the previous night’s little escapades, as well as consumed by the dread of being forced to work during the weekend, the air always seems to hang a little lower on Sunday’s.

Of course, today is no normal Sunday. Not at all, and it is apparent in the excited buzz and extra chatter that fills the office with a tad more enthusiasm than annoyance.

No, today is no normal Sunday, but rather Valentine’s Day.

Which depending on exactly who you are and the activities you have planned for the evening, could either mean that this particular Sunday is slightly better or worse than average. For some, it’s a night of romance - budding or long-term - of roses and chocolate and candlelit dinners, of longing glances and playing footsie under the table.

While for others, it’s nothing special, no significant other to share the night with, and the giddy attitude that fills the air is only slightly nauseating.

You are a part of this latter.

It should be made clear that you don’t hate Valentine’s Day. Frankly, an extra night just to celebrate the love in a relationship is really quite sweet, and you are not such a killjoy as to rain on other’s parades.

However, that doesn’t mean you can’t hate the way that people in the office treat Valentine’s Day. At least a little.

This particularly applies to Gahyeon, who is now peaking over your cubicle, a far too cheery smile on her face.

“Any plans for the night?” She asks sweetly, expression innocent, although you’re fairly certain she already knows the answer.

“No,” you say shortly, before realizing that might be too blunt, and frankly, a little rude. “Nothing tonight. You?”

“Felix and I are going out for drinks later,” she replies, a faint blush lacing her cheeks at the mention of her fiance. You’ve met Felix a few times, the blonde sometimes opting to come inside when picking her up after a later shift. He’s nice. Cute. A well-suited match for her, based on the very brief conversations you’ve had with him.

“We’re going to Dominique’s,” she adds, and you manage to refrain from letting your surprise show. Felix clearly has expensive taste, although you suppose the ring he gave her two months ago was already a pretty obvious indication of that.

“Well, I’m sure the two of you will have a good time,” you offer, returning to face your computer screen, assuming that the conversation is over and you’re free to return to your work. However, this is not the case, as Gahyeon continues to stare at you from over-top the cubicle, chin resting over top of her crossed arms.

“I got you a gift,” she says, causing you to twist your chair to face her once more, raising an eyebrow. She disappears back into her own space, searching for whatever she wishes to give you.

“Here,” she calls out, before once again popping her head back up into your line of sight. She has a gift bag in her hand, one that is so narrow and tall in length you already have a good idea of what it might be.

After taking the bag, you find your assumption proven correct, as you pull out a rather hefty bottle of wine.

You stare at the gift, before flickering your gaze back to Gahyeon. It’s not that you don’t like it, in fact, it’s your favourite brand. Even a tad more expensive than you typically let yourself reach for, unless for a special occasion.

You’re more so just confused as to exactly why Gahyeon would be giving you a bottle of wine, on Valentine’s Day none-the-less.

Her smile falls slightly. “Do you not like it?”

“No!” You rush out, quickly changing your bewildered expression into a smile. You certainly don’t want her to feel bad for getting you a gift, however strange it might be. “I mean, no - but not no as in no I hate it - sorry, yes. Yes, I like it. Thank you.”

She smiles again, and you let yourself relax slightly, taking a breath. “I’m more so just a bit lost,” you continue, examining the bottle once more. “What is this for?”

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749 notes - Posted March 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#counting down the days before natgig masterlist surpasses just in case #lmao can’t wait #this is pretty cool tho #thx everyone for the great year <3

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tanoraqui · 2 years

Text

another thrilling teaser of Celechwes Fixes the Noldor (from the final chapter! um, implicit character death spoilers (they get better!))

“My next piece is called, ‘The Day Beleriand Fell,’” the minstrel proclaimed as she strummed her deep-lute. She bowed her head toward where Celechwes sat at one of the closer tables. “It will, I hope! do honor to one of our most august guests this evening.”

Celechwes nodded back encouragingly. She didn’t like to invite grief, but the chords the singer struck in readiness were still upbeat, and Celechwes hadn’t been disappointed once this night on the town, by music, food, nor company.

The minstrel began to sing.

“‘Twas not so long ago—I can still remember How the sun shone on the flowered plain And I knew if I sang a song That Elves and Men would sing along Our hearts unshadowed, peace would always reign

“But tears unnumbered now I weep Our Doom foretold at last we reap The dawn shall never come now The Foe has nearly won, now

“The trust betrayed, the gates of Hell The brave king burning in the dell To towers strong I bid farewell The day Beleriand fell

“Cry alas! Alas! For the wind-borne queen! As I flee down to the sea, oh how my heart doth keen! Ne’er shall she ride again through lands so free and so green And I’ll join her soon as spirit unseen Join her soon as spirit unseen…”

When it was over, Celechwes clapped enthusiastically, winning a deeper bow and a slightly awestruck smile from the minstrel. Then she leaned over the table and hissed to her dinner partners, “What the Everlasting Flame was that?”

“A lovely song metaphorically associating you and Beleriand, and making of your death a synecdoche for the Nirnaeth Arnoediad,” Amarië said serenely.

“A bit short,” Elenwë mused, “but—” she lowered her voice politely, though the singer was now pattering with other members of the audience— “some of the metaphors were already a bit of a stretch, so that might be for the best…”

Finrod had put his head down on the table, and was doing a passable imitation of weeping with loss rather than laughter.

“I thought it was going to be about Fingon!” Celechwes whispered, wild-eyed.

“We could tell,” Finrod choked out, and had to shove his fist in his mouth again.

Amarië’s bright eyes sparkled with mirth. “Songs of glory, even glorious death, aren’t restricted to Noldorin kings.”

#fanfiction #relyric #the silmarillion #my fic #celechwes au #did i spend like an hour out of my workday writing these alternate lyrics today #instead of; say; working?#......maybe but (does this make it better?) i'd vaguely planned to do this for ages...#no more though sorry. only other line in my brain is 'when the noldor stood in their mighty siege #(/in a coat they're borrowed from james dean...)

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sheepwithspecs · 1 year

Text

Paramour

|| PLvsAA || Rated T ||

Ao3 Link

When fighting is just an outlet for other emotions, something's bound to break eventually.

Their first kiss was entirely unintentional.

It had been a fight, one of the rare fights that went beyond the scope of their duties as Inquisitors, devolving into petty name-calling and well-aimed insults. She'd been on a role, having more than enough fodder from the 'Wild Ride' to insult not only his current place as the town laughingstock, but also his horsemanship. It always delighted her to no end to see his face flushing deep red with mingled anger and humiliation, to almost hear the grinding of his teeth by the motion of his jaw alone, the subtle clanking of his armor as his limbs shook with fury under her verbal assault. It was normally by this point that he'd make an exit, refusing to listen to her 'pointless, unfounded comments on his person'.

But he didn't.

The first second his mouth was on hers, she felt nothing but shock. Her arguments died in an undignified squawk, her mind racing to figure how he could move across the room so quickly, her ears bereft of her own shouting as well as his. Then, as the shock became kindling for her indignation, he seemed to understand the position he was in, the short length from her knee to his groin, from her claws to his face. He pulled away, his face equal parts staggered and unremorseful.

For a long moment, they merely squared off in silence, his unrepentant eyes locked in an impromptu staring match with her blazing ones. It was only broken when her hand—gloved, not clawed, to her own dissatisfaction—came up of its own accord and met his cheek with enough force to knock his head sideways. He blinked, tongue working in his mouth, and she wondered if she'd made him cut his cheek. Serves him right.

"What—how dare—who do you think you are?!"

"I had to make you shut up somehow…" He was breathing just as hard as she. "'Twas all I could think to do." Something about those words, spoken so matter-of-factly, only roused her ire more. Her hand came up to repeat the slap, but he was on his guard this time; he caught her wrist in an iron grip, holding her arm at bay while she struggled to land another blow.

"How dare you touch me," she hissed, only angrier by the fact that he was stronger than her, and had no reason to keep from flaunting said strength. "Give me one good reason that I shouldn't have you thrown the dungeons for harassment!"

"Verbal abuse from one's superior." His smirk was infuriating. "If you file a complaint, I'll be next in line behind you. I'm sure the Storyteller will be surprised at such vile words from a lady as professional as the High Inquisitor."

"You would use a lowly tactic like blackmail?" she spat, still working on wrenching her arm from his grasp. "When you accosted me? When you're accosting me right now?" He let go of her abruptly, and she nearly tumbled to the stone floor.

"Prove it." He raised his hands in a mocking manner. "Prove that I laid my hands upon you. Bring forth witnesses." They both knew she couldn't, that it was only his words against hers. That even with such a tight grip, he wouldn't have pressed hard enough to bruise her. His hand rose, one finger pointing to his face. "I, however, have a better case." Already, she could see the bright red of her handprint against his cheek.

"You deserved it," she scowled; turning away to hide her clenched fists. How dare he try to usurp her in such a manner! And… that was to be her first kiss?! She wasn't the most maidenly of women, but even she wanted something more than an angry gesture meant to keep her silent! She wanted to spit, even though it was only his lips against hers, nothing more.

"I never claimed otherwise, milady."

She hated the thought, but she wanted him.

It was her to kiss him next, many moons later when he just wouldn't shut up and her frustration levels were already at maximum capacity thanks to the old man's insane workloads. She realized on that day how quickly it could happen, how easy it was to stop the flow of words in a way that was almost guaranteed success.

He didn't slap her, though he did push her away. And he was angry, rightly so. But that didn't stop her from sneering down at him, nor did it stop his hands from yanking her back towards him a moment later.

After that, their fighting became charged in different ways. Their arguments, normally clipped and borderline spiteful, eased until they were throwing barely hidden innuendos and playful banter instead of snide comments. It got to the point that all she had to do was look him over, her eyes alight with glee as she pointed out how easily he managed to work his way up the ladder of the knights, hinting at how she knew some of them were not at all interested in the opposite sex. He was not above the same treatment, staring blatantly at her chest while he wondered aloud if she wore such tight clothes on Parade days for some secret, exhibitionist pleasure.

She-devil, tin man, harpy, hothead, kitten, pageboy. Even their insults lacked a certain bite these days.

"You two seem to be getting used to each other," The Storyteller remarked once, while praising her for the peace that permeated the Courthouse with the lack of tense screaming-matches from the Inquisitor's Hall.

"I suppose you could say that."

"Nitwit."

"Hardhead."

"Stubborn git."

"Immovable…woman."

"That place is a stain upon the town, and you know it." She fought the urge to cross her arms; such a tell would show defensiveness, a sign that he could wheedle his way through her resolve. It was fruitless—her mind was made up.

"'Tis a harmless place, with hardly any criminal activity. I'm more worried about the tree lines, where the witches keep popping up like mushrooms after a rain." He was as determined as ever. Though their fighting hadn't reached the pitches that it used to, these low-toned sparring matches were as exasperating as if they were shouting and gesticulating for all they were worth. It was fruitless, in a way—they were both as stubborn as a pair of mules in a farmer's field. Neither could outdo the other, and neither would stand down and let compromise take the lead.

"It's a fine thing when they're mourning the dead and we say "Ah, but look! There are no witches at the tree line; never mind the thieves that stole your purse and stabbed your father.""

"I rarely get reports of illicit activity there," he countered obstinately, lips pursed. He loomed over her, even with her high heeled boots. But her eyes being at the same level as his chin never deterred her from trying to stand over him. He respected her as the High Inquisitor; that much she knew. It was just in his nature to argue, the same as hers.

"Because it's an illicit place." She stepped close, scowling up at him. "There's no rhyme or reason to filing reports when you'll be arrested along with the rest of the criminals."

"'Tis not."

"'Tis so."

"'Tis not."

"'Tis so, and I've half a mind to incite you for suspicious activity. One would think you're harboring the criminals, rather then—" She stopped when he leaned down without pretense. Her mind harkened back to earlier arguments, where they always ended up with swollen mouths and nothing resolved. "Don't try to end it this way," she warned harshly, though she made no movement to back away and he wasn't crowding her in with his hands.

"Don't tempt me—"

"Don't you dare." Their noses brushed. "I'll arrest you this time, I swear it," He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her.

"You're full of hot air."

"Coward." Her lips brushed his as she whispered the word. She knew what was coming. Even so, she wasn't prepared for his teeth to catch her bottom lip teasingly. "Y-you—" He leaned back just enough that they could eye each other, his expression both guarded and heated.

"Leave the tavern to me," he murmured, eyes half-lidded as he bent towards her lips once more. She leaned back, bumping against the front edge of her desk as she evaded him.

"Sir Barnham." Her hand groped at her desk for something, some weapon, something. This whatever-it-was wasn't really teasing, not their status quo of bickering and mockery. This was different, a new outlet of emotion that left heat pooling in her gut and in her cheeks, which left her breathless as his parted lips brushed against her cheekbone. "S-Sir Barnham," she tried again, her voice pleading—but for what? For him to stop? Or… to keep going?

"Leave it to me," he repeated, his breath warm against her ear. "Don't worry about such paltry things, when you're needed for larger jobs. I can handle any criminals in that district."

"You won't convince me this way," she protested, though her shaky tone was saying otherwise. His hand rose to brush at one of the curls resting against her shoulder—surely it was just the cold metal of his gauntlet that made her skin so hot, the discomfort of it was the reason she lifted her head, not to give him better access to parts of her he shouldn't be touching in the first place…. "What are you doing?"

He pulled away, his eyes falling to the rapid rise and fall of her breast. This time, however, it wasn't for joking or petty jabs at a 'perverse nature'. He seemed to soak in the sight, gnawing at the inside of his lip while his hand fell to her shoulder, and then her waist. She stiffened, but to her own surprise she didn't stop him as he seemed to measure its span with his hand, fingers slowly drifting up towards her chest and tracing the seam of buttons on the front of her coat.

"I… I don't know," he admitted honestly, gauntlet gleaming in the light as it played against the darker fabric of her uniform. They both fell silent, watching the slow trek of his hand up her side. He didn't seem inclined to stop, and for the life of her she couldn't think of a good reason to stop him. They were coworkers and things were bound to be awkward later, yes, but it didn't override the fact that deep down, she had wanted to feel that metallic touch for a long time.

There was a telltale clang of iron footsteps in the hall that finally spurred him into action, his hand flying from her torso as though burned. He retreated towards the relative safety of his desk, staring at his open palm before clearing his throat and turning towards the door to great whoever had come to knock at it. She peeled herself from the desk, walking around to sit in her chair and busy herself—or pretend to busy herself—with the never-ending stacks of paperwork.

It would be a good three days before they could look each other in the eye.

"Lady Darklaw, I thought I told you to leave this district to me."

She froze, silently cursing. Why was he here? Making sure her face was schooled before she turned, she graced him with a longsuffering look.

"So you did. And lucky for you, I'm just heading home." It's not a lie; the Shades have contacted her about a problem in the woods, which she planned to see about. This was the easiest route to take. But now that she said aloud… it sounds suspicious. "Not encroaching on your territory," she half-joked with her usual sneer, hoping to throw him off the scent.

"You live this way?" He looked around at the dingy, derelict buildings. His mouth opened, but whatever he meant to say must have been deemed unworthy, or too rude. Perhaps a question about her pay?

"I-I'm taking a longer route home. I like to…." Any excuse her brain came up with seemed less than stellar. He waited, one brow arching when she took too long. Finally she sighed, making up a little white lie to please him. "Pssh. If you must know, I was giving two men the slip. I thought they might have been following me, but it seems I was mistaken. Or perhaps I merely walked faster than I thought I could."

"Two men?" His sharp eyes peered over her head at the dancing shadows in the alleys, the sky too clouded for the moon to offer more than a faint glow. "I'll walk you home, then. It may not be safe." His fingers twitched at his side, reaching for his sword. D-damn! He couldn't do that; her home was in a place that technically didn't exist!

"I'm fine," she excused herself quickly. "Trust me. You should go make sure any other young ladies don't get manhandled." She thought of his adoring 'fans', something like jealousy twisting her stomach. She pushed it back with a frown. "I'm sure they'll be grateful for it."

"Alright." She breathed a soft sigh of relief, hoping he didn't hear. "But I'll see you home first."

"That's not necessary!" Even in the dim lighting, she could see his eyes widen. Too loud! Now you really look shifty! "Er, that is—I can take care of myself." She envisioned her Shades, waiting in the dark and wondering where their mistress was. Why she hadn't come to them yet. "Really. I don't need—" She faltered when he stepped close, his eyes alternating between watching the shadows and her face.

"Lady Darklaw, it would make me feel better if I could see you safely to your door. I don't like thinking about… anyone trying to take advantage of you in the dark." She shook her head, motioning to the dagger she wore around her waist.

"I'm prepared for scenarios like that. And was I not able to outmaneuver them? I can easily find my way back home from here. I'd be more concerned about unarmed women walking these streets so late." Her voice was steady, assured.

"Still—" His brows furrowed, but her confidence seemed to work. "If you insist. But promise that you let me know anytime you feel unsafe."

"With pleasure." She nodded her assent. "Now, if you don't mind, it grows later by the minute. Good evening, Sir Barnham."

"Good evening, Lady Darklaw." She felt his eyes on her until she turned the corner. Walking quickly, she snuck to one of the Shades 'hidden' emergency bins, reaching in the dark and finding the spare Cloak of Invisibility that was kept there.

I'll find a way to carry one on me at all times now. It won't do to have him snooping around.

Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it !

It was easy to see how he'd snuck into the house, dressed up in a Shade cloak that seemed a little baggy for him. Her anger was not at him, though, but at herself. She watched him close the door quietly, the lock catching with a soft click as his eyes never left hers… or her eye, at least. She had to lend her Cloak of Invisibility to a new Shade who had lost his, along with a stern warning that he should find it sooner rather than later. She could have gotten a spare one on the way home, but she'd let herself be lulled into a false sense of security these past few months.

She should have known he'd find a way to follow her, even into the Woods.

"So… it's you, then." Her mouth opened to refute his statement, but she was struck dumb by the thought that he would recognize her voice, even as the Great Witch. He stepped forward and she stood, frozen by shock and horror from where she'd jumped from her throne when he pulled back the hood.

"Did you not think that I'd recognize this body?" he murmured, his hand reaching out and brushing up her waist. "Or these?" he continued, taking one of her clawed gauntlets in each hand. She stiffened as the air around them changed, charged with adrenaline. He was wary, his eyes checking the corners of the room. Looking for my Talea Magica, are you? His hands tightened around her wrists and she met his eyes through her mask, her lips parting.

It was a fight.

She managed to break free after a fierce, but almost silent struggle. He grunted as the force of her own muscles, however slight, were enough to throw him off-balance. She swung out, no longer caring if she cut him with her claws, but he ducked the blow and pushed, both hands pressing into her stomach with enough force to knock her back into the chair. She banged her head against the gilded edge, hissing in pain before kicking as he fought to get her dangerous gauntlets off her hands. He managed the left one, pinning her down with his shoulder as he worked on the right. She felt the heat of his body, saw the bare hands wrestling with her metal gloves, and realized—he's not armored.

Her teeth sank into his shoulder through the cloak, smiling as she heard his sharp yelp of surprise and pain. She fought against him, still kicking as she worked her left arm free. Spitting out the woolen taste of the cloak, she twisted her fingers in his hair and yanked backwards for all she was worth, tufts of hair coming out as he clenched his jaw and fought. Her right gauntlet came free and he threw it out of reach, momentarily caught off guard by the scar of fire on her hand.

Her only way was to escape. Throwing all her body weight on him, they tumbled out of the chair and onto the floor with a crash. Despite her bare hands being less of a match against him, she still slapped and punched and scratched until he rolled off of her. Scrambling to her feet, she ran for the secret door, only to fall hard on her face when he grabbed the end of her long dress and tripped her. Panting, she kicked at his hand, only to be tackled back to the floor and return to her previous bite-scratch-smack method. He managed to pin her arms to the floor, his heavy body weighting hers down so that no amount of bucking could offset him. He leaned in close, a red welt under his eye at odds with the scar on his brow.

Unable to think of anything else, she head-butted him.

They both let out a shout of pain, and then they were rolling on the ground with the sole intent of pinning the other long enough to catch their breath and gain an upper hand. While he was stronger and larger, she was lither and had enough adrenaline to at least match him, if not best him.

"Mistress? Venerable Mistress?" There was a bang out the door, the lock rattling as the Shade on the other side tried to open it. They both froze, him on top with one hand pinned and the other's fingers laced with her own, trying to arm-wrestle her away from his face. She took a breath and then his mouth was over her own, muffling her shout.

"Don't you do it," he snarled when he was sure she was out of breath. "Tell them everything's alright."

"Not a chance—" Again his mouth slanted over hers roughly.

"I can do this all day and the door's locked." Her hand trembled with the force of keeping it off the ground, lest he have her properly pinned once more. "Your call."

"V-Venerable Mistress? Have you taken a fall?" There was a panicked fidgeting. "Shall I call the others? Can you hear me?"

"I—I am well! Don't worry!" His fingers tightened, crushing hers between them. "Damn you," she spat in an undertone.

"I'm not the damned one," he answered harshly, eyes narrowed. "Take off the mask."

"No."

"Take it off." She heard the shuffling footsteps of the Shade as it left.

"N-o!" Her knees slid up faster than he could react, pushing him up and away as she kicked the breath out of him. He choked, sliding to the side and loosening his grip; she used the moment to her advantage, trying to stand and yank the tails of her dress out from under him and adjust her mask at the same time. Turning again to run to the escape door, she managed to get it halfway open before arms circled her waist and lifted her off the floor, away from the door. She gasped, grabbing his hair again and yanking up, this time taking a good handful before he dropped her. They grappled, shoving against walls and ripping curtains, cursing and growling like animals. Then, when she turned to slam her side against him, not realizing his hand was caught up in her veil, she heard a rip and felt the air on her upper face.

Her mask had torn in two, fluttering away from her and drifting towards the ground in a graceful mess of gossamer and dark cloth. Life seemed to slow down to a crawl as she felt her hair, unbound while wrapped up in her mask, come free and fall down around her. Her bangs fell over her eyes and she staggered back, pushing them away with bruised hands. They stood, the two halves of the mask between them as they panted and watched each other's movements. She waited for him to throw himself at her again, but without the mask he seemed more hesitant. She licked her lips, feeling the sweat dripping down her back as she took the time to push her hair into some semblance of neatness.

"So… all this time… you've been lying to m—to us. To the town." His breathing was labored, and when she looked back she saw his shoulders slumped, a look of pain on his face. "You've pretended to be helping us, when really this entire time you were one of them." His jaw twitched, hands fisting. "A… a w—a witch." He turned, kicking the chair with an exclamation of fury before running his hands through his hair.

"Sir Barnham, calm yourself." The words left her mouth before she could think about them, more from force of habit than anything else. He turned on her, eyes wild, before stalking up and slamming a hand against the wall. She flinched, shifting her eyes from the quivering curtain to his own, too close to her face as he glowered.

"Are. You. A. Witch." His voice held the hard edge of an interrogator, but his eyes… his eyes begged her to tell him no. She looked at the door where the Shade had been, knowing his gaze would follow.

"I am their witch," she admitted softly. This answer didn't seem to pacify him as much as it did her.

"But can you do—where's your Talea Magica?" She shook her head wordlessly. "Where."

"I don't have it."

"Where did you put it?"

"I… I never had one," she said honestly, her back beginning to ache as she pressed harder against the wall. He hesitated, stormy eyes watching her carefully.

"Can you do magic?" His hands tensed, fingers curling into the curtain. She knew what he was getting at. The only one who doesn't need a Talea Magica… the witch who can makes spells happen without the magical gems… technically, I am that witch. But—

"I am not Bezella," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Promise me." His lips trembled. "Promise me that you're not…" She kissed him properly this time, for once feeling like her reasoning was a good one.

"I'm not," she murmured against his lips. "I promise." He surged against her, pushing her further against the wall as he kissed her back. She smoothed her lips over the marks she'd made on his face, shivering as his hands found her waist and slid up to the golden chain, undoing the clasp and letting it fall between them with a sharp clank. "Zacharias…"

"Milady," he breathed back, working now on the ribbon that held her collar to her neck. She let him untie it, making a little sound when he drew it from her shoulders and let it fall to meet the chain as well.

"N-no, my name…" He didn't answer, his fingers pushing back the stiff collar, the remnants of her mask, and her hair until her neck was bared. He leaned down, pressing soft open-mouthed kisses against her rapid pulse.

"Hmm?" he finally grunted, worrying the sensitive skin with his teeth.

"I mean…" she pushed his head back, grateful that he didn't try to fight. Licking her lips, she took a deep breath. "My name. My real name."

"Lady Dar—" She shook her head.

"No. It's… Eve. My name is Eve."

"Eve." She couldn't help the involuntary jerk when she heard it repeated back to her. "I like it. It suits you."

"D-does it?" She felt like she couldn't think straight, her mind awhirl as he resumed his work on her neck, hips pushing against hers in a blatant invitation. She shivered again, taking a selfish moment to feel his hair instead of trying to rip it out by the roots. I've got to stop this. "Zacharias… we can't. I can't." It hurt to hear those words spoken aloud, no matter how rational. "You can't… you've got to forget this."

"Eve." She gasped when his hand ran over her breast, resting atop her heart before running back down to palm the weight of it. She closed her eyes against the blush that spread over her cheeks, trying to reign in her urge to push him to the ground and let him do what he pleased. "Whatever you do… whatever you're about to do… don't."

"W-what—"

"I won't tell." His other hand slowly, slowly rose to cup her right breast, waiting for her to push him off. It occurred to her that she could shout and scream now, to call for help, and it would catch him off guard. But she couldn't, not when he was staring at her so sadly. "Eve, I—I want to—I've never felt like this for anyone else before. I want to protect you. Even if… even if." He looked at the room, at the tattered halves of her mask. "Please. Let me stay and help you. I'll make sure no one finds you out. I'll give you alibis if people begin to get suspicious." He rested his head in the crook of her neck. "I'll take care of you."

For a moment she held him, thinking about the offer he'd made. Could he? Could he become a helpmate, an extra set of hands making sure this utopian society the Storyteller dreamed for his pet town stayed a reality? Were her days of loneliness over? Could she really be allowed a shoulder to rest her head on at the end of the day, a ear to listen to her troubles, a warm, calloused set of hands to shower her with affection when she was in need of it?

Foolish little Shade, little witch, thinking that it would be so easy.

"Zacharias." He lifted his head and she cupped his jaw, thumb running over the faint welt still left behind by her nails. She kissed him, again and again, soaking up everything he could offer for a time when he wouldn't be around. "You're going to forget all of this."

"W-what?" She looked into his eyes, at the unhidden desire burning there, desire not only for her body, but for her love, for her assertion that he could be her bodyguard, her helper, her lover. A tear slipped down her cheek.

"This is all a dream: a crazy, wild, amazingly detailed dream. None of it is true." She breathed in the air, the air heady with the scent of ink, wet ink. Susceptible ink. Ink she was immune to. But not him. "You're going to wake up in your own bed, and you won't even remember my name. It'll be as if you never set foot in these woods. None of this exists." True, the ink worked better with general statements. But a dream was a dream, right? And it was already working, he was nodding along even as his brow crinkled in apparent confusion.

"Eve?"

"Shh…" She kissed him again, one final time, her free hand searching for the cold silver she knew was in the pocket of her skirt lining. "Shh…. Just go to sleep." The tinkling sounded as terrible as a death knell, his lips sliding from hers as he slumped down on her in a dead faint. She clutched him to her, even as she fell to the ground, burying her face in his chest and letting her hot tears stain the Shade cloak while she muffled her cries. She stopped as quickly as she could, losing no time before unlocking the door and calling for her servants.

"Venerable Mistress! I'm so glad—what's the matter?"

"Take this man to the barracks and make sure he's in bed. Don't forget to take the cloak from him."

"Y-yes, Milady, only—" She waved a hand impatiently, trying to wipe her eyes as discreetly as possible.

"I've already dealt with his memories. Just make sure he wakes up in his own bed."

"Yes, milady."

"What happened to you?" Her breath caught in her throat, but she hoped she managed an even stare all the same. Barnham scratched sheepishly at a bruise on his arm.

"I think I got into a fight last night, but I must have been…" he trailed off, holding his head.

"I told you that tavern was no good," she remarked wryly, bending to her work.

"'Tis… ah, well." He yawned. "It didn't help that I had a strange dream."

"Oh?" He blushed, looking pointedly away from her.

"A-aye…erm—Milady, it occurred to me this morning that I don't know your first name."

"Why would you need to?" She eyed him sharply. "I don't need my subordinates getting too friendly with me, and I know you can't keep a secret to save your life."

"Urk! N-never mind!" He hurriedly disappeared behind his mountains of paper with another yawn. "Only… Eve?"

"W-what!?" Her hand froze mid-sentence.

"Did I guess it?" He crowed happily. "It was Eve, wasn't it? I must be physic!"

"Or bewitched!" The smile slipped from his face. "You tell anyone else and I'll personally see to it that you get a new office in the coldest dungeon cell."

"Y-yes, Lady Darklaw! I mean no!" She glared at him until he vanished once again, one hand reaching for his dumbbell as he began to write reports.

At least you have him this way. It was a small consolation, for what might have been had she been brave enough to allow it. But no matter. She went back to her own papers, letting the comfortable silence between them grow.

The Great Witch was far too busy for a paramour.

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