Winterling42
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In a Lumière set at the end of the Dawn and Dusk roads, there is a group of vigilante heroes that call themselves the Expedition. Everyone knows they have a hatred for corrupt nobles, but very few know their true mission: find the cursed amulets hiding in the city and destroy them to defeat the Paintress in her looming Monolith.
Verso may have saved (some) of the 33s from a fatal confrontation, but they still don't trust him. It's Sciel, using a pattern deck to rearrange the threads of fate, who can tell them what happens next.
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Aranessa can't stop having nightmares. Occtis is on watch. It's not fair of her to ask him for comfort. After all, he's the one who's dead...
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At some point after their parting in the Citadel, Suvi learns what Sworn has been up to...
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Fresh off the boat back from France, Mrs. White attends another one of her benefactor's salóns...but it's not Rutherford she has her eye on.
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If there are worlds beyond number, let one of them be a world in which Sworn escapes the Citadel's watchful eyes and finds his purpose with Sky again.
Sworn has been traveling with the others for some time now, but recently the Wizard Sky has said some things that he's still struggling to parse...
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Flesh and Blood and Dust by Winterling42
Fandom His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Mad Max Series (Movies), The Orphan's Tales: In the Night Garden
29 May 2018
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- 116,845
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“And shouldn’t Maelle have her brother back? After bringing back the rest of the world?”
“How would that make her different from…” Lune pinches her lips shut. Looks up at the ceiling, breathes. “It’s what Verso wanted. And he didn’t, he wasn’t–”
Sciel pushes herself up. “There were good moments. He was happy with us, a part of the expedition. If he could make his choice again–”
“No.” Something sneaks into Lune’s voice there, past the righteous anger. A choke, almost. “He wasn’t.”
“Okay,” Maelle says, tonelessly. She hasn’t moved from her stance, picture perfect. Back to an audience, angled away. Like a pianist. “Not today then.”
~
Lumière lives. Verso dies. And every day, Maelle must decide to make it so.
Bookmarked by Winterling42
18 Jan 2026
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This is unfair. Everything is unfair, and it makes him angry, and Monoco fights his mentor every single time about it, and it makes him angry, and it’s just-
He knows that Noco spends time with the impostor. He knows that they even call each other friends.
He calls it betrayal.
Noco ignores it.
For a while. For a few years. Until his patience runs out.
Or: the "Noco tied us together for a month, and now we're best friends" incident.
Series
- Part 1 of His human
Bookmarked by Winterling42
15 Jan 2026
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“Well. Put those things all together, and that’s… sort of what it’s like. Sort of. Excitement and pleasure from holding and touching each other.”
“Hmph. We do all of those things without taking off our clothes,” Monoco says. “We’re touching and holding each other right now.”
Bookmarked by Winterling42
23 Dec 2025
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- 31,626
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Bookmarked by Winterling42
17 Dec 2025
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But before she understood what was happening, the world tilted sideways and the cavern lights blurred into streaks. For one impossible moment she was weightless – suspended above the ground.
Lune hit the liquid stomach brine with a force that drove the air from her lungs in a single violent burst. The substance closed around her instantly; warm, viscous, thick enough that it clung to her limbs as she sank. The texture was like cooking oil mixed with mucus, like something half-alive trying to pull her deeper.
The brine forced itself against her mouth, seeped into the corners of her eyes, clawed into the grooves where pictos had overextended and bled.
She twisted, arms flailing for anything solid. Her legs scraped against slick muscle and found no traction. The water dragged at her clothing, at her hair, at her limbs, pulling her down and a hand collided with her back.
Then an arm wrapped around her ribs.
A chest pressed against her shoulder.
“Got you,” Verso’s voice, low and steady, came out of the darkness, distorted by the wet echo of their surroundings. His grip was firm, anchoring her as the two of them were jostled by the slow, rhythmic contractions of the bourgeon’s stomach.Series
- Part 2 of Painters Writers and Musicians
Bookmarked by Winterling42
16 Nov 2025