mudlark_s



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    "You’re a virgin,” Gideon said, testing it out. "Huh."

    Harrow didn’t like the sound of that huh. She knew Gideon’s noises, and that was a thoughtful, sinister huh. That was the same huh she’d made before putting canned tuna in Crux’s work boots.

    Her eyes narrowed. “What.”

    Gideon cocked her head to the side. “Is there a reason you’re waiting?” There was no judgement in the question— only genuine curiosity.

    Perhaps it was this that made Harrow more inclined to answer. “I don’t have the time to look for someone new,” She shrugged. “And my available pool is… somewhat limited.”

    “Well,” Gideon said, with just a hint of conspiracy in those glittering golden eyes. “If you ever want to change that, you have my number.”

    What? What?

    Harrow blinked. “What?”

    Or: the five times Gideon and Harrow successfully bone, and the one time they don't.

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    24 Aug 2022

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    “Gideon,” said Palamedes with the patience of a saint, “the rules are the rules. It wouldn’t be fair if I changed them just for you. In a well ordered society—

    “It’s not a well ordered society.” Gideon knew where that was going, and she certainly didn’t have the time. She slapped a slip of paper onto the counter and said, “It’s secret santa.”

    And there lay the source of all of her problems: handwritten in a script so neat and precise it could have been printed, Harrowhark Nonagesimus. And everyone knew that Gideon and Harrow hated each other.

    So what if they had started taking smoke breaks together? So what if Harrow had helped her fold shirts just last week, in a store she didn’t even work in? So what if Harrow had laughed as the two of them did Jagerbombs at Palamedes’ Halloween party, the glint of her fake fangs flashing invitingly in the orange party lights? They hated each other. The two of them would both work in the mall until one of them inevitably strangled the other with her bare hands, and Gideon wouldn’t have it any other way.

    Except that lately, Gideon had started to like Harrow.

    Which made that slip of paper a fucking problem.

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    24 Aug 2022

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    As soon as Aubrey Thyme, psychotherapist, had opened her office door and seen her new client, Anthony J. Crowley, sitting in her waiting area, she was observing and assessing him. At first glance, she paid attention to the following:

    --His clothing was expensive and stylish;
    --He wore very strange but noticeable cologne;
    --His relationship to the seat he occupied could only, very loosely, be described as “sitting;”
    --He looked angry;
    --He was wearing sunglasses.

    What Aubrey Thyme, a professional, thought, upon first seeing her new client was: you’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?

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    13 Feb 2022

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    06 Feb 2022

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    It's been six months since Grantaire left the Musain and her crew -- and her captain -- behind him, but the quieter life he'd hoped to make for himself is thrown into turmoil when a convict and his daughter crash down into the middle his little outer-system settlement.

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    05 Feb 2022