#and reread the first two parts

[degenerateshinji]

bang

[coquelicoq]

what i like especially about the pronouns in the goblin emperor is that this language doesn't just have the T-V distinction (aka informal vs. formal second-person pronouns, in this case 'thou' vs. 'you'), it also has informal and formal first-person pronouns. having BOTH of these distinctions in the same language lets you fine-tune your tone by mixing and matching. with only one axis of formality, when you use informal pronouns, are you being familiar in an intimate way, or in an insolent or dismissive way? when you use formal pronouns, are you being polite or standoffish? you can't tell just from the pronouns; there's ambiguity. but a language where you can use a formal first-person pronoun in the same sentence as an informal second-person pronoun allows you to distance yourself (via the formal first) while also being familiar (via the informal second), thereby achieving the conversational tenor known to linguists as Fuck Thee Specifically.

[misscrawfords]

Having such a weepy day because I've been pining over the same person for eight years and that's a long time to hold unrequited love. And I don't know how he feels and I don't truly know how I feel except that I don't know how to do this anymore. And Bridgerton S03 is going to utterly break me because loving your friends doesn't work out like that IRL and I just. I'm so tired. And so confused. And I miss him. And I wish I could just never see him again or think about him. But I miss him. This is all so unbelievably stupid.

[thatonecrookedsmile]

I decided to re-read the bendy books because it's been a while since I read them.

[amrv-5]

would you hold me and let me die in your arms, or would you just let me lay there and bleed?

from E.A. Robinson’s Lancelot - VIII

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Six

I have Deja-vu when I return to the Tullamore stadium where I spent countless Sunday afternoons as a teenager, forced to sit at pitch side as Kelly roared her support for the players with a ferocity that always kind of pissed me off. She wasn’t into sports, not really, she just pretended that she was because she had this fantasy of one of the players spotting her by the barriers and coming over to ask for her number. Of course, none ever did, but eventually, when she was sixteen she talked her way into one of their after parties at the club house and kissed six of them one after the other with the same efficiency as a local politician handing out fliers at a shopping centre. She didn’t get any phone numbers either, just a crusty cold sore that hung around on her lip for two weeks.

Today, for the first time there is no Kelly by my side, and I realise upon entry that it’s been almost four years since I’ve set foot in this place. I don’t know why I thought it’d look different, but everything is the same, from the sun bleached plastic seats to the mud, grass, and leather smell in the air. I’ve changed but all these old places, they stay exactly the same. Claire links her arm with mine and we head down the steps towards our seats near the front. She’s wearing a Tullamore jersey. Most people on our side are too, painting one whole side of the stadium in blue and white. I’m just wearing a grey jumper. I had a matching jersey years ago, in fact I even went to the trouble of digging it out of the bottom drawer of the chest in my childhood bedroom earlier, but it’s girls size 13-14. It won’t even go over my chest anymore. 

“Are you excited?” I say to Claire, who I expect to be beaming, but isn’t. 

“Yeah I suppose.” She says. 

“It’s a bit mad to be here together, isn’t it? Like, how many of these matches would you say you go to?”

“Oh God, like, probably all of them, I’m always stuck in these seats watching him.”

“You’re very supportive.”

“I’m a saint.”

My smile falters a bit, she doesn’t seem excited in the least. When I imagined her coming to these games I always had a picture in my mind of her cheering him on with voracious enthusiasm, hanging over the railings, chanting his name, but by the rather stoic expression on her face today I’m starting to doubt my own assumptions. “Not pushed about the match, no?” 

She sighs. “No, it’s fine, I just… this has been a touchy subject between us lately.”

“Football?”

“It’s how much he wants to play it.”

I frown. “But he’s made it onto the senior team, surely it’s normal that it’ll take up a lot of his time.”

“Yeah it’s just like,  he’s in fourth year in UCD now, I wish he’d just study or something, focus on his degree.”

“Oh.”

“There’s no future in football, like, he’ll never get paid for it and I just don’t want him to throw away his science degree because he’s too caught up with an amateur sport. There’s good money in pharmaceuticals if he works hard enough, and then we could start saving for a mortgage or a wedding, or I don’t know, kids or something.”

I nod, though it’s incredibly weird to hear her talk about such things now, at twenty one years old, when they seem lightyears away for me. A mortgage? I don’t even know how that works, never mind how I’d go about saving for one, but Claire has always been eager to settle. 

“Is he struggling to balance both things?”

“Well, he isn’t really trying to. He’s just not doing his college work.”

“At all?”

She shakes her head. Her mouth becomes a thin line as she stares out over the pitch where the players have begun to filter out, shaking the hands of the other team, and I spot Shane for the first time, dressed in a blue jersey with stripes across his shoulders. He is powerful looking, even amongst all of the others. Two men in Helly Hansen fleeces and caps walk straight through my line of vision and settle into the seats directly in front of us, blocking out the view momentarily. By the time I regain my view of the pitch the players have all settled into their starting positions. 

“I assume you’ve talked about this with him.” I say to Claire. 

“Yeah of course, but I might as well be speaking to a brick wall. You know how he is with talking about things. At all. Ever.”

I hesitate. “He can be a bit withholding, for sure.” 

“Never go out with an Irish man.” She declares. “They’ll only wreck your head.” I want to tell her that men from other countries haven’t been much more straightforward in my experience, but then the whistle blows and the match begins. 

It’s true what they say in the newspapers about Shane Healy. He’s like a bolt of lightning on that pitch. He’s big, he’s quick and he’s aggressive, and yet there is something about his style of play that I didn’t expect to see. He’s like a child out there. The way that he practically skips along with the ball, lobbing it up into his hands and kicking it up the pitch makes it seem like he’s mocking the players around him, the ones who can’t catch him, can’t stop him. 

I watch him possess the ball once again, drop it onto his right foot and neatly slot it through the goalposts for a perfect point. The crowd erupts into euphoric cheers, including me and Claire, who both laugh ourselves onto our feet and start yelling out for him. I’m not close enough to see him smiling, but I know he is, jogging around in a wide circle, clenching his fists in celebration. 

The two men in front of us are muttering about something when we sit back down, and the only reason I tune in is because I hear them say his name. “Healy. Number fifteen. ” I nudge Claire and mutter “They’re talking about your boyfriend there.”

“What are they saying?”

We try to listen in, but the stadium is too loud to catch anything but the odd word. “I can’t hear.” I admit. “Are they Australian? Hardly.” The idea of a person coming all the way from the continent of Oceania to find themselves in a shabby Tullamore stadium, of all places, would be markedly strange. 

“Oh, foreign men?” Claire drawls. “Maybe I should give one of them my number.” She slams her sunglasses onto her face, shielding her eyes from the sharp October sun, and we both put our focus back onto the pitch. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[yellowloid]

FINALLY managed to make some progress on my wip thank GOD and all the saints in heaven for this christmas miracle

[jichanxo]

actually am intrigued by your writing process! writing ficlets just for the exploration and all that. can you tell me more about how this works for you/how have you come up with this/all that? and do you plan on publishing the senseific ficlets somewhere in one place?

wrote a description of the entirety of how I’ve been working on sensei fic and it’s very very long, so. under the cut. (excuse my self indulgence, i absolutely could have answered this more succinctly, but i thought it would be fun (to me) to talk about my process with senseific as a whole)

I mentioned it before, but I am not a planner when it comes to writing, so I just do whatever the hell I want. and this works great since almost all my writing is short one-shots! just start on something as vague as a feeling or as detailed as a fleshed out idea and just start rolling. see how it goes. and then I go over and edit, add and cut or refine. nice and easy.

unfortunately, sensei fic doc (or rather, “yagamikuwana school au.docx” as my literal document naming goes) currently looks like this:

this includes me writing down ideas and some half formed snippets/exchanges that i’m not sure will make the cut, so it’s not an entirely accurate word count, but the point stands. it’s hardly the longest fic in the world by a long shot obviously, but for me this is uncharted territory. I just… don’t write… anything this long. ever. so sensei fic has been kind of odd because I am still very much a “just do whatever you feel like” writer, except that process has been stretched over months and months. I jump around doing different things without necessarily a coherent order, deciding depending both on what I feel like and what needs to be done

I’ll try to outline the progress behind senseific as best I remember it: well I first had the idea during my first stint with kuwagami after LJ in 2023… I can’t say I remember much from then. I started as I always do. with an idea and a dream. I wanted mundane romance kuwagami. I one day thought about if he’d somehow stay as kitakata and still met yagami. I pushed together as many pieces together as necessary to make it work (and tried to use what was already there because it would be too difficult to make stuff up on my own) – reuse seiryo high, put it in tokyo (it would be difficult to justify having yagami regularly go to the mrc if it was in another city and he didn’t have the main case of LJ to keep him around ijincho). amasawa and the club are a natural addition and an easy way to keep kitakata and yagami around each other despite an initial distaste for each other. I had a few ideas as to some of the exchanges I wanted them to have… some ideas as to fleshing out the new setting… and I did what I usually do and just riffed.

now here’s the main part of the process that I’m sure is already obvious by my saying I’m not a planner: I try to think through the internal logic of the au setting or come up with a fun idea I want to include -> I make a note of it or start writing it immediately (regardless of its spot in the fic) -> I see where it takes me -> review, add, cut, refine, consider it in the context of the wider fic. see if anything else comes up. use my best judgment and do whatever.

some of the earliest things I remember writing for this fic is the intro, a scene with kitakata being an annoying flirt (kitakata taking yagami's cigarette was an image that stuck in my head hard), and one of the first scenes with the mrc. since I wrote quite a bit out of order, eventually I ended up focusing on bridging, following the natural logic between the scenes I wanted to write, trying to connect things. the scene after the intro. whatever makes sense after that. go over everything, edit some more, make sure everything feels as cohesive as I can make it. (I think somewhere in the middle of this I dropped off until I got my second wind on kuwagami, where I picked it up again)

I have something like: intro (setting up the au and making it all clear to the reader as quickly as possible. probably inelegantly but it was a start), which naturally progressed to elaboration on kitakata and yagami’s relationship, a school club scene, me trying to think of another way to get kitakata and yagami in a room together, kaito and kitakata meeting, whatever progressed naturally as a result from that, etc. go back over, adding more things as I thought of them, fleshing stuff out (hello sawa sensei!) and all that. Though I’m working out of order, eventually a sequence starts to form. The beginning is the most fully formed rn, since I have the clearest idea as to how things should be when they start, and what should logically follow. I also like starting my editing from the top unless I have a specific scene in mind to look at, so I’ve read over the beginning the most times of anything else.

obviously I always had vague ideas as to progression, but now that I was starting to fill in more gaps, I had to think about it more seriously to ensure consistency between older scenes and new scenes. I rewrite a bunch of things for senseific not just as editing, but to add new context that wasn’t there previously, and in some cases totally overhaul them to better fit the tone, to adjust the overall progression. one of the scenes in the middle, which I mentally call “are you seeing anyone", is one I really enjoy, so I worked hard to adjust that to better suit the new context so I didn’t have to scrap it outright. on the other hand, kitakata’s phonecall scene is one that got the total overhaul treatment, because the tone no longer matched – kitakata was originally more… hm… disagreeable there, and it wouldn’t have worked with the way the yagami-kitakata relationship development was panning out, so I kept the bones but wrote it in a different direction. since nothing is really planned, most of this fic is in a state of perpetual flux. everything is subject to tinkering if need be.

it’s probably pointless for me to refer to specific scenes since they’re not posted publicly but. well. I guess it’ll make sense later if/when I post senseific. at least I know what I mean for now.

anyway, since a lot of my initial writing in the “do whatever you want” phase was about kuwagami and the development of their relationship, my first attempts at planning and organising are also about that (though I did try to keep the school stories plot in mind at the same time). I had to try and take what I already had and marry them together, make some kind of logical order.

around this time I was already on tumblr and posting some other kuwagamis and just generally feeling great about writing. I ended up showing four-white-trees (excuse my favouritism) some of my starting scenes on sensei fic since it had mostly settled down by then, and it was certainly by this point that I was feeling More Serious about making sensei fic not only Real (and genuinely trying to make it complete), but hopefully good, LMAO. not just some “if it happens it happens" venture. But yeah I was thinking more seriously about my details and getting some feedback on it for the first time and just. Man. Shit got real for me. I want to finish sensei fic even though I started it not knowing if I could commit.

ANYWAY. I was trying to lock in a sequence of events for the kuwagami relationship progression, ended up making a spreadsheet for my fic so I had a more digestible timeline to look at and understand what beats happen where, how I can smooth out any inconsistencies, where my gaps were. I’ll probably be coming back to that sheet to sort out school stories plot… but yeah. not just pure improvisation anymore.

more details started to creep out of the woodworks. I originally wrote something incredibly stupid that I ended up trying to twist into something serious lmao, and that is the um. Maturity/immaturity throughline.

Fuck. God this is embarrassing. But. I once, half asleep, wrote Yagami comparing Kitakata’s insensitive/rude flirting with him as being like a kid picking on his crush. and um. I read back over that later and. My god. You can’t just mention bullying with Kitakata around and not have it mean something. So, well, I tried to talk myself through it and arrived at something with meaning. Kitakata has to learn to not be an asshole with his flirting. To be mature about it and be a little sincere and honest and maybe not mock Yagami to his face. Yagami also learns that he’s being immature towards Kitakata in some ways and has to grow past that. They both have to grow up and talk like some fucking adults, and that’s how they can move on from the conflict that defines their early relationship. Yeah. And of course the school setting and bringing in Sawa and the students as other comparison points will help develop the theme some more. anyhow, it's not something I’ve fully sorted out, but my point is that I stumbled on this totally by accident. unplanned. I hope I can tease it out in an interesting way because it’s not quite there yet, but it’s funny how it went from a thoughtless line to something that I think is… surprisingly defining… just gotta stick the landing...

but yeah, the big picture kitakata-yagami relationship stuff was coming together. right now I’m at the stage where that plotting is as planned out as it can be without the school stories side being completed. the next big step is getting my notes so I can figure out a proper school story progression that I can line up with my kitakata-yagami plot, see how they fit together.

with regards to exploration writing – while writing/thinking about the main plot, a bunch of details have come up in passing. and while I can be vague and try to write around it, it feels so fake? It feels so obvious to me when I’m writing around something because I haven’t thought hard enough about it.

I was writing a scene where… hm… how much do I say here… Yagami has to come to understand that it’s personally important to Kitakata to make sure his students are okay, and with that is Sawa alluding to what happened with Mitsuru. and to be clear, she’s not so tactless to say it outright, but I knew, deep in my heart, that I was writing some non-committal bullshit. I was writing about her talking about what happened without enough knowledge myself as to how I think it changed Kitakata. So I forced myself to understand how Mitsuru changed Kitakata by writing about what happened between them. That’s the ficlet. And then I could look over what I wrote with Sawa with full perspective and decide if it really did sound the way I thought it should sound. I really enjoyed writing that as a personal piece of art, but it was very much a tool for my own understanding.

It’s something similar for Itokura and Kitakata now. Because my focus is shifting towards the school story plot, it raises an obvious question: If Kitakata was changed by the Mitsuru incident, then shouldn’t he have tried to do something about what happened to Itokura? (I am once again thanking four-white-trees for poking me) I can’t write about the relationship between these two in the main plot without a proper understanding of this. And I prefer to write than to plan, hence the sunday six wip. I start with a vague idea and write and see where it gets me. when I do that I’ll have a better understanding of how I want these two to operate, in a way that’s more detailed that my initial vague ideas.

That’s basically it. It doesn’t need to go in main fic but I have to write it so I feel I can make the right judgment calls. I’ll probably do this as much as I feel necessary, and yeah, I don’t see any reason not to post them since, unlike the main sensei fic which always has things changing around, these explorations should be locked in. I did make sensei fic stuff into a series on ao3, so I’ll keep putting them there as they come up.

[abutterflyobsession]

sometime I need to talk about my favorite characters in this book I read: Holly the bipolar psychiatric nurse, SCA member, and Mac the amnesiac elf she rescued from government agents at a comic-con after he escaped from a government lab. They are besties.

[fereldanwench]

not me having an impulse to start yet another canon!run for valerie

[hanzajesthanza]

some terrible part of me wants to comparatively analyze the reynevan/jutta sex scenes VS the birkart/douce sex scenes as good VS evil…

it’s about the worship of VS subjugation of…

[soupthatistohot]

i do plan on continuing my bsd re-read eventually, hopefully this month bc i should have a bit more time to devote to stuff that isn't school/work now... theoretically. if not, i'll definitely continue it over the summer tho!!!

[eerna]

my ToG presentation is entering its second stage, AKA the era in which I unironically enjoyed it, and rereading is making me remember how much I love Elide Lochan help me hel p m e

[subarulesbian]

gregor dandolo i love you SO much

[chloeseyeliner]

hey, it's me again, with another rwrb post *shocked sounds* i know, i know my love for casey's books is unhealthy at this point, hahaha.

(coming from a-mainly-henry kinnie) I present to you:

top ten moments alex claremont-diaz has been suspiciously relatable.

Part one

part two here:

10. lists and thoroughly detailed calendars to get anything done

I don't think I have to elaborate on that.

(personally speaking, I am making a list here, as you can see, lol)

9. I am as straight as spaghetti... boiled (or the classic agcd mood)

there are two truths universally acknowledged; one, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife; two, that this has been/is/will be the experience of a great number of lgbtq+ people.

opening up time I will surely regret later: I cried in my room every night that summer I was fourteen due to the fact that I had just discovered articles on queer history and queer short films and I watched them every single evening my parents went to bed. i believed that I was being the greatest ally to ever exist at the time.

turns out I am very asexual (and maybe somewhere in the aromantic spectrum, as well, idk?? maybe demi? who knows!)

8. focusfocusfocusfocus

especially on subjects you care about deeply within your soul...

7. "oH, [this minority group] dOeN't WaNt/WoNt EvEn CoMe To VoTe etc etc-"

alex is way more than right here.

(honestly, I am the kind of person to get anxious af when it comes to socialising but does my blood boil so much when I hear/read this stuff in 20freaking23 that I forget why I am so afraid of people judging me/making fun of me etc. etc. in the first place, if only for a little while...

also, dedicated to the upcoming elections in my country.)

6. apologies to the uk but what the actual-

(don't get me wrong here- I appreciate that every culture has its own cuisine and I am not sure I am the expert here- in the Balkans in general the standard breakfast is either coffee/tea+cigarette or milk- BUT. c'mon. beans?

please, people from the uk who may see this utter rubbish of a post, do not come at me, I am just trying to make a joke-)

5. oF cOuRsE i Am FiNe!!!!!!!!

oh, alex... </3

(how does that song go?

there it is again, that funny feeling...)

to be continued right away because after almost a year in here I just found out that the picture limit in tumblr is ten per post.

[ahatintimepieces]

WHY HELLOOOOOOOOO THERE!!! It’s been awhile and I’ve been pretty quiet because I’ve been working on other projects. BUT I have been splitting some time working on the Fey prince!au you might be familiar with thanks to the amazing work by @smieska-draws. I’m not ready to officially start posting/or to keep a schedule, but I *do* have a lot of work for it and have been wanting to share sneak peeks. So like... here’s all of chapter 7? lol

Context! Luka is a human painter who stumbles into the fey world and meets the lovely Queen of the fey, who he only knows as his princess. His princess only knows him as her painter as they must carefully guard their names from even each other for, in the fey world, to give someone your name is to give them power over you. Luka must also be careful not to eat the food of the fey or he’ll be trapped in the fey world forever. In chapter 7, he discusses his and the queen’s relationship with Mari, his best friend, and meanwhile the queen is pressured by the Shapeshifter to tie down her human while she can... And, oh! Of course, there’s a kid with a hat to meet~

About 4K words~

Cupping the ceramic dish in his palm, Luka took his index finger and mixed the mound of ground pigment with the binding solution. While he made the paint, he glanced towards the sketch on the right, and narrowed his gaze.

The commission for the mayor was nearly finished and set out on the table in the middle of his workshop behind him. He had just a few more touches to go that he planned to wrap up in the morning with a quick run to the glade. The oil paints were all packed in his satchel that lay by the canvas. He had initially thought that that would be it for the festival, but then the mayor reminded him that he would have a booth to sell his other paintings. While he had some already finished works on hand, he realized he didn’t have nearly the selection he should and was scrambling to have more fall scenes at the ready. Watercolor felt like a good place to start.  

Set out on his worktable, where the surrounding shelves and drawers overflowed with spare pigments and his paints and brushes, he had two sketches laid out and taped down on an angled board. One was a simple scene of aspens with piles of leaves and the other was of the crumbling well in the fey world, surrounded by the sea of moonflowers. While he was going to have to paint the latter by relying on memory and brief doodles from his sketchbook, he was eager to try out the glowing paint for the moonflowers.

Once he finished mixing the brown, he set the dish down beside others, also filled with mixed pigments and colors. His tin case full of watercolor pans stood at the ready with his mug of water and brushes. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his largest brush, and dipped it into a dish with a pale cream color and started coating the page with the aspens.

He worked in silence all through the afternoon, shifting between the paintings when he needed to give one the chance to dry a bit. His brows furrowed in concentration as he gathered paint from a saturated orange pan in his tin and combined it with a touch of red in a dish. The further he immersed into his paintings, the harder his features became as his thoughts zeroed in on every stroke and the shades of the colors. It was only when the sun fully set that his strained eyes protested the lack of light.

He blinked, reeling back from his hunched position as his eyeballs burned and snapped him out of his focus. Groaning from the interruption, he carefully placed the brush down and wiped his hands on his apron. Even in the dark, he moved around his workshop with ease, thankfully sparing all his paintings and organized mess. But he stumbled over his wrinkled carpet back in his living room, where he fumbled for a lantern. Once it was lit, he returned to his workshop and reassessed his paintings, standing back and holding out the lantern at different angles for different perspectives.

The short break revealed a few spots that needed touching up before he could move on and he re-rolled back his sleeves, slipping back into focus.

Eventually, a knock came at his door, but he didn’t hear it as he knelt over the moonflower painting, working on getting the minute curls of the petals captured by the blue paint that emanated a gentle glow.

“Luka?” Mari called, pushing open the door with a creak.

He remained securely lost in his task, carefully unfurling the painted blossoms.

Mari stepped closer, leaning her hip against the table. She watched quietly until he finished the last petal and pulled the brush away from the paper. As he stepped back and assessed the glowing flowers around the weathered well, she cleared her throat and he jumped.

“Mari!” He slapped his hand against his chest as his heart pounded against his ribs. “How long have you been there?”

“Maybe a minute?” She shrugged. “How about you?”

“What about me?” He arched his brows, but before she could answer, he turned back towards his paintings.

The aspen painting was done, he thought, but might need a check in the morning. And while the moonflowers were just about finished, he wanted to add a few more details to give the forest behind the clearing a little more dimension.

A tricky task now that all he had was the flickering lantern light and glow of the paint to work by.

“How long have you been here?” Mari asked with a wry grin.

“Since lunch?” he offered. He blinked again, glancing out towards the window, where night had overrun the world with shadows.

“Did you eat dinner?” From her tone, she already knew the answer.

“Let me just finish this painting.” He whirled around, dipping his brush back into the dish with the glowing blue paint.

While he hurried to finish, she stepped closer to get a better look.

“Is that the wishing well you told me about?” she gasped, leaning over his shoulder.

“Where I met my princess,” he confirmed with a smile.

“I can see why you love it,” she admitted, giving him space as he turned away to rinse out the paint in his brush.

“It’s an incredible place,” he sighed with a twinge of lovesickness.

After placing his brush down on his cloth stained with smears of paint, he grabbed the tiniest brush for fine details and collected the gilded gold hue created from the moonflower pollen and began adding small accents in the sea of moons. He held his wrist underneath his painting hand to help keep himself steady as he leaned in towards the paper.

“Makes me almost wish I could see it for myself,” she said.

Despite his focus, he glanced towards her with his furrowed brows softening from his smile.

“You could! You could join me sometime.” He shifted his gaze back to the painting. “I think my princess would like that too!”

“When everything calms down, I think I’d be up for a little adventure,” her voice softened.

“It’s so beautiful there,” he hummed absentmindedly before he drifted back into silence. After a few moments more, he finished adding the accents and swished the paintbrush around the water with a sigh. “Done!”

His stomach growled as he rightened himself. He ducked his head sheepishly.

“Time for dinner,” she snickered. “I brought over Cat’s fish pie! It’s in your kitchen.”

"Really?” He snapped to attention, already edging away from the worktable as he stretched his arm to finish flicking off the excess water. He dropped the brush onto the cloth and retrieved the lantern. “You should have said so sooner!”

“You would have still waited to finish your work.” Mari rolled her eyes, leading the way back to his small cottage.

“Maybe, but I would have worked faster if I knew pie was waiting!” he teased.

After Luka lit the gas lamp in the kitchen with Mari holding the lantern for him, he eagerly got out plates for the both of them. The crust crumbled with a crunch and the fragrance of the roasted pumpkin and salty fish expanded with the steam. With his mouth watering, Luka scooped servings of the oozing filling and pastry onto their plates. He joined Mari at the table and handed over her share as he dropped down into his seat.

He hummed as soon as he took his first bite, melting from the creamy sauce and letting the salt from the fish and olives bring out the best of the flavors, like rich pigments heightened the vibrancy of the hues. The steaming warmth of the fresh dish only soothed and energized him after a long afternoon of work.

“Thank you,” he garbled while holding his hand over his mouth. He swallowed and gathered another forkful. “This is just what I needed.”

“I thought you might be needing a warm meal.” Mari nodded with her bite hovering as she blew on the wafting steam. “Your face this morning when the mayor reminded you that you have an actual booth at the festival was priceless.”

“I might have forgotten that to make money, I need pieces to sell.” He propped his elbow on the table as he leaned over his plate. While he took another bite, his gaze traced the steam and flakes of crust sliding down the sauce.

“What’s wrong?” Mari prompted after a moment of watching his expression.

“Just thinking,” he muttered, moving a chunk of fish around a piece of pumpkin. He caught her knitted brows and heaved out an exhale. “My princess and I were talking about the future a bit.”

Mari nodded, encouraging him to keep going.

“We’re getting to the point where we’re discussing moving in with each other. Mostly hypotheticals,” he explained, idly tapping his fork against the plate as he held Mari’s warm brown gaze. “If I move to the fey world, I have to decide if I want to keep avoiding the food there, which would pose some challenges, or if I… well…” he trailed off, frowning.

“What happens if we eat fey food again?” Mari asked uncertainly.

“My princess says that from the moment we just taste the food of the fey, all human food will turn to ash on our tongues.” He glanced back down at the pie, prodding it with his fork. “So, I would never get to have Cat’s cooking again.”

“What do fey eat?” she asked. “Is it just berries and fruit?”

“No,” he snorted despite his heavy pondering. “There’s all kinds of food. There are farming communities near the village and even the ocean is just a half-day’s journey from the castle so there’s fish. The meals that my princess has on our picnics always look fancy.”

“So, you can still have hot meals, at least,” she offered.

“But then,” his frown deepened as his shoulders slouched, “there’s another problem. Humans, once they eat fey food, will become like shadows in this world.”

“Shadows?” she repeated.

“I don’t quite understand it,” he admitted with a wince. “But it sounds like it’s more that the person wouldn’t be able to interact with anyone. They wouldn’t be seen or heard no matter what. And I think staying in this world as a shadow for too long would make a person sick.”

Silence passed between them.

“I wouldn’t be able to see you?” she broke the silence with caution in her voice.

“You could always visit me in the fey world,” he said quickly, though his dismay was apparent as he sighed. “But it’s not ideal. It would make interacting with everyone here a challenge and… I know I’m safe with my princess, but the other fey still swarm me if we get too close to the town and I wouldn’t want to subject others to that.”

“I’d be willing to visit, at least,” she said gently. “But yeah, no one in town even knows that you’ve been in the fey world yet, I don’t know how they would feel about any of this.”

“I don’t want to eat the fey food, I know that much.” He tapped the pie, feeling more certain as he talked it out with Mari. “It just means packing enough food for longer trips will be challenging.”

“Can’t she move here?” Mari asked.

“No.” He shook his head. “She’s the queen and all. I can’t keep her from being there when her subjects need her.”

“Right.” Mari nodded thoughtfully.

“I don’t know, maybe I don’t have to move either,” he said with a shrug. “I do miss her though. Spending days apart seems too much sometimes, and I feel like I’m just waiting for the next moment I can be with her.”

“Is there a way you could research options you both haven’t thought of?” she suggested. “Maybe an older fey or something knows a way around the rules?”

“My princess has told me about some trees that have all the answers.” He collected more food onto his fork. “I could ask one of them.”

“Tell me what they say,” she snorted.

“And who knows,” Luka added. “Maybe once the festival is over and things quiet down, I can spend more time there and coming home each time won’t feel as heartbreaking.”

He popped the forkful into his mouth.

“That bad, huh?” Mari prompted sympathetically.

“I know it sounds silly.” He covered his mouth as he spoke around his food. “I just love every moment with her.” He swallowed and continued with a brighter smile. “I could listen to her voice all day, and even just sitting in silence, watching the stars is sweeter with her. I hate having to leave.”

“It’s not silly,” she chuckled. “It’s sweet.” She paused before adding gently, “I’m sure that you two can figure out a way around the rules that works for you.”

“I’m already thinking about how I can work on painting there in addition to planning how to better pack meals. For now, I have to wait though.” He let out a dramatic sigh. “I have so much to do before the festival.”

“Whether you’re ready or not, it is coming up,” she offered between bites. “You don’t have to wait much longer.”

“Thanks, I feel so much better,” he drawled out sarcastically, but gave her a genuine smile. She preened, earning a snort from him before he lifted another chunk of pumpkin to his mouth. Shaking his head, he let himself relax as the warm meal melted on his tongue.

Between conversation with Mari and planning more paintings to work on, his thoughts lingered with his princess. He’d have to leave a note for her at the glade to tell her something came up and he was swamped with work, but he hoped they could work around it. In the meantime, he settled his lovesick heart by wondering what she was doing just a world away, under her night sky.

He hoped that she could somehow feel how pieces of his heart remained with her. But mostly, he just hoped that she was happy.

*

The queen ambled through the night market, golden crown perched on her head as she tended to official duties. While her painter and his fellow humans celebrated the end of autumn, shortly after, she and hers would celebrate the beginning of winter. Preparations for the first star shower viewing were well on their way as she guided the hanging of lanterns and planned where to place telescopes. She also met with guards and other volunteers who would track the descent of the stars to go out and harvest any stray dust and star fragments that they could, discussing what they would need for their journeys.

Hiding a yawn behind her gloved hand, she intended to return to the castle when a voice called her over to a stall.

“There’s darling Queen Ven in all her excellence,” Shapeshifter cooed in a layered voice.

The queen turned, meeting a multi-eyed gaze of the shopkeeper selling many odd items and wares. No matter how brightly the glowing mushrooms strung from their stall awning and flanking the sides of the counter shone in the whites of their eyes, their features remained encased in inky shadows under their hood. They motioned her over with a floppy sleeve, poorly patched.

“What is it?” she asked, unimpressed.

“Can’t a fey greet their queen?” Shapeshifter pursed their voice into a pout.

“Not this fey.” She gave a wry smile. “You always want something.”

“Guilty as charged, I suppose,” they twittered as they lowered their elbows onto the counter and rested their chin on their sleeves. “I just wanted the juicy gossip about that little human you’ve been avoiding your responsibilities with.”

Their eyes squinted as if they were smiling, and the queen looked around.

Luckily, there weren’t many fey out at the moment, just one fey with moth wings speaking with young Hat who borrowed Friend’s stall at night and the birch tree in the center of the plaza. None of them seemed to be listening.

“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t joke about me neglecting my duties.” She scowled, turning back to Shapeshifter. “I work tirelessly for you all.”

“I meant no offense,” they promised, their smile curling in their voice. “But I know you’ve been sneaking away more and more and that can only mean one thing.” They jumped up and gestured towards their shelves. “You’ll be needing my assistance.”

“I don’t require anything you want to offer.” She began to turn.

“You do if you want to keep him tethered here,” Shapeshifter insisted. “A spell to turn him into a tree, or perhaps you’d prefer he was a flower? I have those potions too. You have to get his name for it to work, of course.”

She knew she should have just walked away, but at that point, she felt rather insulted, and it was going to bother her if she didn’t.

“I’m perfectly capable of turning whoever I wish into foliage without the use of a potion,” she held out her hand and summoned a spark of pale blue light to her gloved fingertips. “Care to see?”

“No, no.” Shapeshifter waved their sleeves back and forth. “And of course. You deserve something much stronger.” They glided over to a collection of curios, pointing to each item as they explained their purpose. “You could trap him in a music box, forever posed in a dance for you. Or making him into an enchanted mirror would allow him to always bask in your beauty. The bonus is he would be able to reflect whatever you commanded him to.”

“I’m not doing any of those,” the queen deadpanned. “You fail to understand the nature of our relationship.”

“Do tell,” they insisted, tilting their head.

“You couldn’t possibly understand it.”

She also wasn’t going to admit any snow-soft musings meant for her painter’s ears alone.

“Let me guess,” Shapeshifter chuckled. “You love him, and he loves you? No matter how much you love each other, you know he’ll never leave the human world behind, right? There will always be others in his heart.”

“Goodbye, Shapeshifter.” She waved as she turned. “You’ll have to try harder to sell me something.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” they called.

She ignored their final attempts to convince her that she needed their aid. Even if she ever did feel her painter’s affections were split, she had her own ways of ensuring he would stay in the fey world, all while keeping him content and with those golden eyes and dazzling smile intact. But she didn’t need to fret over any of that, not when they had discussed their future at length together and he knew he could easily remain with her always if he tasted any of their food. Certainly, he loved her enough that he would choose her world over any other.  

Still, after such an encounter with Shapeshifter, she didn’t particularly want to return to the castle and her lonely room.

Not that she doubted her painter, but, well, it was harder to remember how much he cared in his absence.

While she thought about consulting the birch tree, holding the shining lanterns on stiff branches, she noticed that young Hat had finished with her customer and was idly kicking her legs as she perched on the stool.

“Hat,” the queen greeted as she stepped over, her slippers tapping against the cold stone.

“I wasn’t anywhere near your garden today!” she announced, crossing her arms and furrowing her brows.

“I know, dear,” the queen dismissed, pausing in front of the table that boasted an array of headwear. Her gaze landed on a blue knitted cap with bear ears. “Oh! How cute!”

“Did you want to buy it?” Hat dropped her guard. In an instant, her already large blue eyes grew to the side of saucers with awe and hope.

As sharp as a snowflake nipping at her nose, the queen felt a pinch in her chest.

“I do not believe I could pull off bear ears but,” she quickly scanned the table for something else to purchase, “that ribbon is lovely.”

“It can make you go super fast!” Hat collected the bright yellow bow and held it out. “I used a secret ingredient to enchant it!”

“What’s the ingredient?” the queen asked, cracking a smile as she accepted the ribbon.

The bow was tied securely around a bit of elastic that would make tying hair back a breeze. The yellow wouldn’t show well in her flaxen hair, but the hue reminded her of her painter. And that was enough for her.

“I can’t tell you. It’s a secret!” Hat pouted. She leaned over the table and motioned for the queen to lower her ear. Once she complied, Hat pointed towards Shapeshifter’s booth and whispered with urgency, “they’re always trying to steal my secrets, so I have to be extra careful!”

“I see,” the queen nodded seriously. “Then I shall not ask again and instead marvel at your craftmanship. How much?”

Hat beamed, bouncing back and naming her price. The queen paid for the ribbon and while she tucked it into her pouch, Hat kicked her legs on the stool, scanning the plaza for other customers. After spotting no one else, she sighed and retrieved a half-finished purple and yellow striped cap which was tethered to a crochet hook. While pulling it out, knitted, black triangles tumbled down and she bent over to grab them, placing them by the cap.

After a second of appraisal, the queen realized the triangles looked like cat ears that would probably be attached to the cap at a later date.

“Slow night?” she wondered.

“Yeah, but Friend said I could use the stall during the festival, so I’m stocking up!” Hat lifted her work pointedly.

“Saving for anything in particular?” she prompted. It never occurred to her before, but despite her childish shenanigans during the day, Hat was always working tirelessly when the queen caught her at night.

“I’m going to travel the world one day!” Hat momentarily puffed out her chest between her crocheting. “I’ll be a great adventurer with only my hats. No stinky Shapeshifter to try and steal my stuff, and no rules to keep me down.”

“That eager to leave?” The queen’s thoughts drifted. “I like to think this darling kingdom has everything we need.”

“Not for me,” Hat muttered. But she paused, remembering who she was talking with. She winced and gave the queen a forced smile. “But it’s great for you, and everyone.”

“I’m sure your parents will miss you,” the queen tried to dismiss her heavy thoughts and focus on Hat. “Or do you plan to travel with them?”

Hat glanced away for a split second before summoning a brighter smile.

“They won’t mind,” she reassured. “W-want to buy another hat? You have a boyfriend, right? You can give one as a gift.”

The abrupt subject change did not go unnoticed, but the queen let the conversation lie.

“Maybe another night,” she offered. “He seems perfectly happy with his current beret.”

“A beret?” Hat’s smile seemed more genuine as it reached her eyes. “If he ever needs it patched or wants me to add a little magic, I can do that too!” She glanced down at her kitty cap and arched her brows pensively. “I wonder if I could start making berets.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to let him know he has one more reason to stay in the kingdom,” the queen chuckled. “We have Hat: Milliner Extraordinaire.”

Hat preened with a mischievous smirk before returning her focus to her work.

“You should tell that to everyone else,” she insisted.

“I’ll drum up business when I can if you stay out of my garden.” The queen rose a challenging brow.

Hat avoided her gaze.

“Pleasure doing business! Enjoy the bow!” She beamed instead.

The queen shook her head but continued on her way towards the castle, feeling slightly refreshed after a long day.

What kept her spirits up was the promise that in less than a couple days, she would meet her painter again. And the next night before their scheduled meeting, her spirits soared even higher when a sparrow messenger brought a note from him shortly after twilight.

They were swiftly dashed, as she read that their meeting in the morning would have to be postponed. While his message pleaded for forgiveness and promised he could be ready the day after, it was hard not to wonder why his work was more important than her.

She folded the message and tucked it away in her dresser with other notes or sketches he had given her within the past season. She reminded herself to just be patient. Soon enough, he would choose to remain by her side.

She was sure of it.