[alicent-florent]

Jessie Mei Li as Lara in Last Night in Soho (2021) dir. Edgar Wright

[asgreat]

i kiss you gently on the mouth with my mouth

i kiss you back obviously …

[asgreat]

@aspirinqs. 

     ‘ ah, you must be the professor, ’ jareth says. his neutral expression opens into something a little more kindly, more sociable. a smile with a hint of teeth.

     ‘ sarah told me your name, might you give it again? ’ 

[asgreat]

harvestshope​.

“I am Lord Morpheus. Dream of the Endless.”   he has many names and titles. at the sound of them, the dreamstuff that makes up the floors and the walls and the furniture and the sky of her unconscious begins to stir. to know him. to whisper, lord morpheus. is it true? is it you? it’s been so long. it’s been so long.

“And you once rendered me a service, although you do not know it.”

she acted for her own reasons. but had he been in a position to manipulate events, he might have let her do her worst anyway. she is not what he expected, and she is: a dreamer of considerable power, unused to being met on those terms.

     ‘ oh. ’ a messy divorce and a runaway mother had left her half-alone with a father scrambling to balance work and a new marriage -- most attentions diverted, what little else had been harvested and set aside for the birth of her half-brother. and maybe she knows better now ... but she was young, she was spoiled. most importantly: she was lonely. she coped. she read. she made friends between pages, she explored any world that could fit the span of her two hands. she devoured all the greatest fantasies, all the wildest legends -- and she read her fair share of myths. so, yes. she knows that name. 

     ‘ you’re real. ’ she feels silly as soon as she says it. ‘ i mean -- ’ she has no reason not to believe him, so she just ... does. the room seems to shudder around the fringes, rumbling like a dog at the hand of its long-gone owner. she isn’t in much of a position to rationalize otherwise, but it doesn’t mean she has to trust him. she’s had her fair share of tall, mysterious, and otherworldly. 

     is this about the labyrinth?

     sarah straightens, as curious as she is cautious. 

     ‘ why are you ... here? ’ why now? 

[asgreat]

asteritm​.

❛ about what? ❜

❛ the kid at table three who is repeatedly throwing his spaghetti on the floor? or the man with the raven who keeps coming back despite the fact that this coffee is mediocre at best. ❜

     ‘ the spaghetti. obviously? ’ 

     ‘ no, but ... ’ a full stop. she’d opted for the hot chocolate, and it’s about as thin and lackluster as the coffee. so seems the theme. she takes a sip, grimaces a little, and adds about three spoons of sugar to it. the warmth of it is comforting, though, if little else. ‘ i don’t know. small world. maybe he likes you. ’ maybe she’s backtracking. maybe she’s a little thrown in realizing she isn’t the only one rubbing elbows with a primordial being (or two) with powers beyond comprehension. there’s the faintest flush at the base of her throat. 

     ‘ maybe he thinks you’re cute. ’

[asgreat]

@aspirinqs​. 

     ‘ the, err, marginalia is excessive, i know. ’ 

[asgreat]

i did things (i added a verses page and updated my rules (though the latter is largely unimportant and mostly just for exclusivity updating) but now i sleep. it has been a long day.

[asgreat]

also, like. wrt sarah and jareth’s dynamic and the timing of it:

at the tender age of fourteen, sarah successfully runs the labyrinth, wrecks the kingdom in the process, and takes back her brother. 

the following years are spent with sarah keeping mainly in contact with the trio (hoggle, didymus, and ludo) through mirror calls and mirror travel. 

she is under the impression that her entry into the labyrinth is contingent on jareth and jareth alone. this is only partially true. 

she needs his permission, but she does not need his power. 

during this time, she is beginning to understand the ramifications of being touched by the fae, as it were.

at some point, jareth and sarah reconcile. this does not mean they no longer bicker, because they do. a lot. but there’s a lot of respect, and a lot of eventual begrudged fondness, regardless. 

they realize a little late that words were never just words, and ... well, you know. if sarah wills it, it might just be. 

currently: jareth is monitoring and offering direction, in his own way, to sarah in understanding her own power. they usually meet on tuesdays. 

[asgreat]

remind me to expand on how heavily i lean into the fae rules with jareth

[asgreat]

@lyceius. 

     ‘ wine, i think, to ease the night. ’ where there was emptiness in jareth’s open palm, a decanter glimmers into sight. ‘ freely given, ’ he assures.  

[asgreat]

harvestshope​.

“… I thank you.”

he breaks the cookie in half before he bites it, to make it last longer. he was always going to eat it, but they have to do this little song and dance every time, or morpheus hardly feels like himself. if death could see him, she would laugh. maybe she’s laughing now.

“Brown butter.”   he’s getting better at recognizing flavors.   “You’ve outdone yourself.”

     sarah, of course, smiles. if she is anything, she is forthcoming in her joy. there are losses in battle, to be sure, but well worth the inch to her mile. 

     ‘ i thank you. ’ she’s not entirely certain what his basis for comparison looks like, but a compliment is a compliment, doubly so in this particular audience. she nibbles at her own, briefly savoring the way it melts in her mouth. yeah. it’s good. ‘ i made a lot. too many. you’re welcome to take some home with you. ’ would they survive the journey? she pats a covered dish at her side, hidden almost entirely by the table between them. 

     ‘ how well do you think pyrex can hold up through interdimensional travel? ’ 

[asgreat]

i have sarah pursuing something wrt classic literature but i also want her in a library but i also want her onstage and . 

[oubliet]

a nickel for every encounter with a nonhuman entity with hair that defies gravity (two nickels).

[holyisthenameofmyruthlessaxe]

A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments, Roland Barthes

[asgreat]

@asteritm​. 

     ‘ you don’t seem surprised. ’ 

[asgreat]

harvestshope​.

the gift most stubbornly given may sometimes be the easiest to accept. he has his pride, of course. dream pulls out the chair before the cookie and sits.

“You need not resort to threats, if you wish to invite your friends.”

     ‘ ah. ’ sarah straightens in her seat, wagging a finger. party foul aside, lord morpheus, she’s storing that for later. ‘ i don’t wish. i want. and what i want, presently, ’ she looks pointedly at the cookie, then her gaze flicks back up, ‘ is your opinion. ’ 

     say your right words. ‘ ... please? ’ 

[asgreat]

@harvestshope​. 

     something has changed. she feels it in the air, feels it in her bones. the stag seizes, a glittering, granular shudder that roils from nose to tail, and turns in place. 

     in the center of the copse stands a dark-robed figure.

     she can feel the way the trees begin to lean in, the flowers that bloom under an unseen light -- the forest, by some will beyond hers, chooses to turn toward the stranger. even the stag beneath her takes a half-step forward. sarah’s fingers tighten on the reigns, chin raising. she knows the shape of every tree and every animal, all of their finest details, knows them down to any speck seen and unseen. but this ... she thinks of the mirror, miles beyond. 

     she’s never been followed. she’s never been that careless. 

     sarah speaks first, braver than she seems. ‘ how did you get in? ’