#but I am fairy and folk tale enthusiast FIRST and LAST

[kat-of-the-night]

This will be comprehensive to only a select few people but the reason why Dragon Age: Origins objectively rules and stands out from its sequels is because it somehow manages to perfectly capture the vibe of Jim Henson’s The Storyteller (1988).

The fantasy politics of Inquisition were okay but what about when there was just a random tree spirit who only spoke in rhymes for no discernible reason? Peak storytelling. Bring the poet-tree back.

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

Lifetimes

Chapter 2

Description - Detective Okoye finds out more about King Steven's past as you are subjected to further torture

Warning - Horror, mutilation, torture, Dark!Steve

PROCEED ONLY IF YOU ARE 18+!

Chapter 1

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

Detective Okoye sipped coffee as she examined the crime scene report on her desk. It had been more than 2 months since you had been the victim of the heinous crime. She narrowed her eyes as she read the report for probably the millionth time. The case was littered with problems.

First of all, they couldn't find your dead body. They had searched across the city and the state and had turned up empty handed. 

Secondly, the forensic team had secured two different sets of fingerprints from the crime scene atop the cliff. One set belonged to you, the other, your killer. However, their database couldn't match the fingerprints with any US citizen and known terrorists. Even the CIA, FBI and even the Interpol turned up empty-handed. 

The team also found paper-thin scraps of ash scattered across the cliff and the road. Their scientists could not make sense of that either. 

Lastly, they had absolutely no leads to chase down your attacker. The security cameras hadn't caught anything. There were no witnesses, except the one statement from Chris Evans, who continuously rambled on about the deep scar on the attacker's face. 

"You need to stop reading that file Oko. You are not a part of the investigation anymore," Detective Natasha's voice broke through Okoye's thoughts.

"I can't let it go Nat," Okoye responded, rubbing her forehead, "I keep thinking that I have missed something."

Nat closed the file and sat on the desk, "Look, I know it's frustrating to break your perfect record. But sometimes there are cases which you just can't solve."

Okoye sighed, "10 years Nat. I have solved every single case in the last decade. No matter if it was a simple house robbery or taking down a drug cartel, I have always cracked all of my cases. And now this?" Okoye slammed down her coffee mug in disgust, "I have been assigned desk duty because I couldn't solve this case."

"You know it's temporary till things dial down a bit," Nat tried to reason, "When the girlfriend of an international superstar goes missing, his fans and the media tend to erupt," Nat placed a hand on her shoulder, "You will be back soon Oko."

"Evans hasn't received a call for ransom?" Okoye inquired.

Nat shook her head, "I don't think she is alive Oko."

🌑

You opened your eyes, the whispers in the dark playing on a loop in your head, "What does he want?" , "Ya no puedo soportar esto" , "Who is she?" , "Quiero ir a casa" , "I make my most humble apology" ,"Nobis auxilium Dominus!" You only recognized English, the rest of the few languages alien to your ears. Besides you, you could see the terrified figures of ancient women who resembled your features.

You tried to speak to them, but no sound escaped your orifice. You were frozen, but were yet somehow still moving. The edge of your skin, along with others, shed like thin layers of ash, only to be replenished by the wind. 

It's this what death felt like? Were you a ghost?

The voices in your head suddenly went silent as everyone heard the despicable cackle of the man who commanded all of you.

🌑

It was dusk when Okoye walked towards the National History museum with her 5-year-old daughter in tow. She waved when she saw Carol with her son.

"Thank you so much for coming along!" Carol grinned as they hugged, "David was dying to look at the new exhibit."

Okoye brushed her off, "Please there's no need to thank me. Aurelia is just as much of a history enthusiast as David."

They joined the long line of people, mostly parents with their kids, waiting for their turn to enter. "I had no idea this exhibit was so popular," Okoye admitted as she took in the crowd. 

"Yeah. Ever since the discovery of the Aveninfin kingdom, suddenly everyone is a history nerd," Carol commented, "Still, I think it's cool that they found the remnants of an entire kingdom underneath the Texan desert." 

As they entered the museum, both the kids ran off towards the children's section of the exhibit where the tour guide was handing out pamphlets.

Okoye sucked in a deep breath, "Umm Carol, I wanted to talk about the bake sale this Saturday-"

"Yes Maria and I are going to bake lemon squares, chocolate cupcakes and vanilla-strawberry cookie spirals," Carol interrupted her, "I was thinking Maria will present the lemon squares from your end? We will say you are currently caught up with work and handed over your goodies to us," she knowingly winked at Okoye.

Her eyes filled with tears at Carol's kind words, "I am sorry," Okoye barely whispered.

"Oko, you have nothing to apologise for. It's difficult being a single mother and an awesome ass-kicking detective at the same time. Don't be harsh on yourself," Carol tried to console her by rubbing her back, "We love Aurelia. And we love you! It also helps that you gang up with me to prank my wife," Carol beamed.

They strolled in the museum, always keeping an eye on the kids as their activities continued. After about an hour or so, the kids dispersed. "Mommy," Aurelia called out, "did you see the handprint painting?" 

"No baby I didn't," Okoye replied. Her daughter led her by taking two of Okoye's fingers in her small hands. "You should see this mommy! You are a defective. This is also like defective work."

Okoye couldn't help but laugh at her daughter's innocence, "That's right baby, I am a defective."

She picked her up when they reached the fingerprint portion of the exhibit. Aurelia pointed out to one set of fingerprints, "See? Just like you explained," she clapped her hands once for impact. 

Okoye chuckled, kissing her daughter's forehead. She looked at the various sets of fingerprints. Most of them were unnamed, except three. One belonged to the King's right hand man called Buchanan, the other to the Queen named Luna and finally, the King himself, Steven Grant. 

Okoye stared at Steve's fingerprints. There was something eerily familiar about them. She stared harder, trying to identify them when suddenly, realisation hit her like an iceberg. 

Could it be? No it was impossible. But the intricate pattern of the fingerprints undoubtedly matched the ones in her file! 

She immediately unlocked her phone and compared the two images. They were identical! Okoye dialled Natashas's number, informing her of the development. "I will be there in 20 minutes," she replied.

🌑

Detectives Okoye and Natasha sat across the table from Dr Bruce Banner, the archeologist behind the discovery of the Aveninfin kingdom. It had been three days since Okoye's lead, and now, it seemed they were back to square one. 

It seemed that nobody on Bruce's staff had used the fingerprints to commit the crime. Everybody had airtight alibis, even the doctor himself. 

"I don't know what I can tell you ladies anymore-" Bruce started saying. But Natasha swiftly interrupted him, "Detectives," she spat with authority.

He held up his hands in resignation, "Sorry. Detectives. I have nothing new to share. You guys have been to my house, my lab and my office. You have interrogated my staff and colleagues. I really don't know how can-," he was interrupted again.

"A heinous crime was committed, and," Okoye pointed a finger at him, "fingerprints of your King Steven were found at the crime scene. So you really expect us to believe that he came back from the dead just to murder Chris Evans' girlfriend?"

"Legends share that King Steven never died," Bruce half-smiled at his pathetic joke. "Look, you guys are the detectives. Isn't it your job to," he gestured in a random direction, "detect this?"

"What was the need to even obtain fingerprints from an archeological site?" Okoye inquired.

Bruce looked squarely at her, "Fingerprints help us study human evolution Detective. We were lucky to have found their fingerprints painted on the wall and imprinted in the mudcakes."

"Mudcakes?" Nat cocked an eyebrow.

Bruce took a deep breath, "The people of Aveninfin believed that the dead would find a way back in case the living ever needed them. However, the dead spirits would need to identify their graves and their loved ones. So after the death of any citizen, they would press the deceased palms onto a patch of damp mud, which would then solidify, leaving behind an imprint."

Okoye bit her cheek, "But you just said that King Steven isn't believed to be dead."

Bruce shook his head, "I said legends claimed that. Folk-lore, fairy tales, ancient myth. There's no way to actually verify this."

Natasha checked her watch, "Well, we still have about an hour or so left for this interrogation to end. So why don't you indulge us Doctor?" she requested in her sweet venomous voice.

Rubbing his eyes, Bruce took a deep breath. "Okay," he said, "How much do you remember about the history of Aveninfin from school?" 

Both the women looked at each other. "Wasn't it a kingdom ruined by greed and ambition?" Okoye guessed.

Bruce nodded in response, "The king, Steven Grant, wanted to conquer the entire world just like Alexander had once set out to. In the 17th century, when the kingdom of Aveninfin was at its peak, King Steven married a Sorceress by the name of Luna. It is believed that Queen Luna gained her powers from the moon. A bit Luna-tic, amirite?" Bruce's another lame attempt at a joke was met with stony silence.

He cleared his throat, "So anyways, Queen Luna saw how the kingdom and it's citizens suffered in poverty while the King, his aid Buchanan and the corrupt traders and officers enjoyed the riches. She knew of his ambition to conquer the world and so, she killed him by poisoning him. But, here is where things get interesting."

Bruce shifted in his seat, the  excitement in his voice mirroring in his body language, "The Queen didn't account for Buchanan's loyalty. You see, in some iterations of the legend, it is said that the King and Buchanan were lovers, in others, they were mentioned as close comrades. Buchanan was said to be raised by witches, and so, when he realised that the King had been poisoned, he went and dug open his grave to revive the King."

Natasha looked disinterested and Okoye managed to keep a passive expression as Bruce rambled on. "Buchanan apparently gave half of his soul to the King, so that King Steven can live. But this only made matters worse. Now both, the King and Buchanan, existed in the world of the living, and also in the realm of the dead. This place… this-this sweet nexus of two dimensions cursed the beings with unimaginable power, and pain."

Okoye gave Natasha half a smile as the latter yawned, "Let me guess the next part Doctor," Natasha offered, "The King laid waste to the entire kingdom and buried it within the ground where the sun doesn't shine?" 

Deflated, Bruce sank back in his chair, "Yeah."

🌑

You were passing through buildings, cars, houses, trees and God knows what. Suddenly, you came to a stop. You were surprised when you saw King Steve, or "Conqueror of the Paranormal, Leader of the Occult Study and Summoner of Death, His Majesty King Steven Grant" as he liked to call himself, converse with another man. 

This stranger's hair was tied in a small ponytail. His physique was just as massive and looked just as strong as Steve's.  

His magic command wore off just a bit as he was speaking with the stranger. You were able to move your face and a little portion of your limbs. You gasped in your head as you finally took in the condition of the women around you. Some women were missing their palms, feet, or even entire hands and legs. A few had their entire torsos cut so that you could only see their spine connecting their head with their hips. While the face of one woman was absent of her eyeballs, the other one's neck had been chopped off in a gruesome manner.

Steve's power over you started weaning further as he became more agitated in his conversation. Your eyesight became a bit clearer, the shades of black and grey slowly shifting into focus.

You had to find a way out of this prison. By now, you understood that all the women in King Steven's harem had been murdered and kept captive. This could not be death. You didn't want it to be.

Looking downwards at your feet, you noticed the faint wisps of ash detaching from your body and collecting on the ground below. It could easily be confused as dust in a small quantity, but when shed in a larger amount, it could form a trail of sorts...

🌑

A FEW DAYS later saw Okoye sitting at her desk with her head in her hands. "Oko," Natasha approached her gently.

"You know, if I had any hair on my head I would be pulling them out right now," Okoye joked miserably. 

"I told you before Oko. Some cases are too twisted to be solved. Do you know how many cases in the US go unsolved? Probably-"

"Wait," Okoye interrupted Natasha, "What did you just say?" 

Natasha looked a bit surprised, "Ummm… Do you know how many cases go unsolved?"

"That's it!" exclaimed Okoye. She rushed towards the Records room of the precinct, with Natasha hot on her heels. "What's 'it'?" she asked.

"We need to check whether these fingerprints have come up in the last 6 months in the unsolvable crimes committed," Okoye explained, "Think about it Nat. Dr Banner told us that they retrieved the prints 6 months ago right? So there has to be-"

Natasha sighed, "Well it is a lead. But…" "But what?" Okoye responded. 

"You are grasping at straws Oko. Don't you think it would have been in the news if a murder went unsolved heart because the prints couldn't be traced? Look I…," Natasha hesitated, "I know you are desperate. Frustrated even. But this has started to affect your health and work and I can't just stand by and be a silent spectator."

"Then don't be one. Join me and help me in solving this," Okoye urged.

Natasha just shook her head, "If… if you don't give up this case Okoye then-"

"Then what Natasha?" Okoye almost spat her name.

"I will have to report you," Natasha's threat sounded like a plea.

Okoye squared her shoulders, "After everything we have gone through?"

Natasha looked at her with a painful expression, "Yes. Especially after everything we have gone through. I just cannot let you destroy your career behind one case. You weren't even supposed to interrogate Dr Banner! This… this stops now."

Both the women stared at one another, refusing to back down. Finally, Natasha muttered something under her breath and left the Records room as Okoye kept glaring at her back.

36 HOURS LATER, Okoye found a nondescript manila envelope on her desk, buried under her pile of unprocessed files with a note, "Hope this helps! - Peter P." She casually angled her body in a way which hid the contents of the envelope as she opened it. Her eyes widened at the information displayed in front of her.

King Steven's fingerprints were found at crime scenes that dated back all the way to 1915, almost around the time when the police started using science and technology to obtain and analyse fingerprints. 

As she flipped through the pages, she noted the years of the crimes committed. 1915, 1933, 1954, 1974, 1997 and lastly, 2020. A quick mental calculation made her realise that the average number of years between these murders were approximately between 20-22.

But nothing prepared her for what she saw next.

The photographs of all the female victims closely resembled your face. Sure, there was a difference in the colour of their skin, languages and backgrounds. But their facial features were identical. 

Moreover, there was a striking similarity in the way the crime was committed. The women were kidnapped and then disappeared without a trace. 

Okoye sat back in her chair as realisation struck her like a thunderbolt. Could it be? Was there really an undead entity hunting these women? And for what?

🌑

You were moving again. Every part of you was frozen, except the tips of your thumb and forefinger, thanks to King Steve still seething in anger. Rubbing them together furiously, you tried to communicate with others through your mind, urging them to do the same.

It continued for a while when suddenly, you felt yourself freeze completely. 

That disdainful cackle was back in your head, "Hehehehe. Honey wants to shed her skin? HER SKIN!!! Wants to be rescued. RESCUED! Don't like me? ME! Doesn't want skin? SKIN? SKIN! Then I will take it. TAKE IT!"

You felt his shadow push into you with force as your now solid forms collided with the ground. His blade, now shining brighter than the sun, cut into your sides as you silently screamed in agony. 

Pain seared through you as he started peeling the skin from your entire body, only to reveal the ghastly organs beneath. Muscle, bones, veins and all were now on display. Nobody could hear your blood-curdling screams except the women surrounding you, their howls of horror joining yours as once again, you were reminded about who was in charge.

"Need skin," Steve muttered as he kept cutting into you, "Have hands, legs, face, torso, everything. EVERYTHING! Need skin to put her back together. To bring her back. She will breathe. She will be alive. ALIVE!"

__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__

Permanent tag: @donutloverxo

Taglist for this series: @buckysteveloki-me @cheeseburgersstuff @ninefuckingoneone @keenmarvellover (I tagged you guys because you had requested to be tagged if I ever write a part 2. If you guys don't want to be tagged in this, just let me know. No hard feelings 😊)

Taglist open! Just comment, send an ask or message!

[talesofealdancynedom]

Seiph Blugimm, in fairy robes; The mage of the Stone Gate forest is not as famous as his twin brother, but is relevant enough to illustrate

Tale 19: Meriam Craweleoth: Mage Queen of The Grand West (chapter 8.1 - At The Time 8/10) part 4. Stories of Old

Maps

none

           Sinonia Doesn’t have cities; it has a constant, and evenly dispersed, rural landscape; And heavy traffic trade routs. The roads are wide, muddy, sided by lush ferns and bamboo, or tree groves. If your lucky, one can pass a farm, with fields strategically placed upon the strata of hills. There are many hills, of many heights in Sinonia; with many bridges. Like soft old mountains that never ended. The good thing about these features, is that it’s hard to get lost. There is always one person within distance, to gesticulate for directions; And they are used to it. The bad thing is that it feels like a perpetual hike, with no change in scenery. Meriam and her men had been away from home for weeks, and had only just accepted the fact they had traveled across the world, and their only hope was a magic forest, where they might find Sirulius’s identical twin brother. Of whom was the court mage, from what they gathered. Having searched the mountains for days, they stopped at what seemed to be an elaborate building, painted red and adorned with beads, and canvas sliding doors depicting nature. The ground around it was surrounded by perfectly circular cobbled of stone, and coloured glass. Tiered and hungry, Meriam decided such a gratuitous establishment might have a good host. The door slid open without her needing to ring the brass bells, with the provided mallet.

           The odd house was crowded with gold and red charms for luck. There was depictions of fey and livestock on everything; from statues, basins, table wear, and tapestries; to the canvas walls. The owner was a short very old lady, dressed in embroidered vibrant satins. She was the only one in the house, and given the number of luxurious objects in and around the property, possibly rich. From what Meriam could tell, the entire place was completely normal; not a drop of enchantment. Though it had a certain ambiance to it, that would make some people suspicious. Like it was too comfortable, and thus hiding something. The old lady instinctively brought powdered green tea, and said they could stay the night because her eight cats liked them. Meriam was allergic to cats, but her men seemed to like them. Meriam and her party were given congii, and warm water to bathe; they had never known such gratitude in theirs lives.

“Thank you graciously for your hospitality; Are you sure you do not want compensation? I am a mage and can easily alchemize you anything you wish, enchant your house with protections-” Meriam said

“No thank you.” The old lady smiled, filling her bowl. “I’ve had enough of mages and magic, Anglian girl. That’s why I live here in Sinonia. There aren’t many fey outside the gate. And the fey that are here, are mischievous or obvious. Best to leave them alone; guard your livers while you sleep, there be foxes in these woods. And stay away from the water, there be dragons behind the falls. Sleep every night like it is your last, and be weary of things that seem too good.”

“That sounds incredible! The fey I mean, not the fact you’re not fond of magic.” Meriam said.

“Yes dear. I prefer cats.”

“I can see that... That said, we are looking for a magic gate, so we may get home. I was told, by a mage at the coast, his brother guards the Stone Gate; you wouldn’t happen to know how to get there from here?”

“Oh, our witch Seiph Blugimm! He’s a good boy. Keeps the fey away, and brings me these adorable strays. Has two children who live down river, with his wife. She grows and makes the best tea, and visits often with Seiph’s artwork for my walls.” The old lady said frailly. “You can find him ten minutes down road, if you veer off the path to your right, when you see a goblin made of moonstone. Can’t miss it.” She smiled. Everyone gave thanks, and had a good sleep on soft floor mats, surrounded by purring fur. They had a good mourning meal, and the lady sent them off with a smile. She was genuinely happy to have had visitors.

“By the way dear; Your men may go dark in the shadow veil on your way home. Magic forest,s and gates to the kingdoms of fey, aren’t the place for common men.” She warned Meriam. Meriam was so eager to go home, she had forgotten that non-mages get scared by the colourless, windless, warmthless, quiet shadow veil.

            Being refreshed by the first good sleep they had in weeks, did not prepare Meriam or her men from the incredibly creepy goblin statue. It was larger than a normal goblin, and had a crinkled face and was showing its tusk like teeth, holding a shard of crystal. It was one of the most terrifying bad omens Meriam had ever seen.

“You don’t think it’s a warning, do you, your highness? From this Seiph mage, my queen?”

“No. It is the rough work from dwarves, by the look of it.” Meriam said, inspecting the statue. Then she headed off the path, and deeper into the forest. There was an unsettling identical statue, every ten meters, leading to a flattened mountain face that was painted red, and covered in non-human hand prints. Infront of it was a different statue: it was tall beautiful man made of smooth grey rock. Behind the statue, was a perfectly carved tunnel into the mountain. It was big enough to accommodate a single file line of people. Above it, freshly painted, was the title Forest of Lost Children in Anglian runes. Meriam shrugged, and entered, then summoned luck fire to lead the way.

           As they advanced though the tunnel, it widened; until they reached a waterfall that filled the passage. Yet, there was no cracks in the ceiling, nor the floor; that water was coming from, and going, nowhere. Meriam stared at it for a few minutes, and then reached into the center, and pulled it aside like a curtain, gesturing for her men to pass. The further in the cave they went, the more eerie and dark it became. Until they noticed glowing mushrooms, and giant flowers, which radiated neon colours. They began to hear roars, caws, groans and howls coming from the thick forest they entered. It was night, even though it was dawn. Meriam stopped at a fork in the round cobbled trail, that was now underfoot. There was a waist high flat rock, with brail like dots on it. Down one path, there was glowing water, flowing from the mountain, with a dwarf carved bridge. The other way lead into the woods up and the mountain. The third path lead into a thick thorn laden part of the forest.

“I don’t know where to go, and I fear letting Nihten look ahead. I fear charming, or talking to these fey. The trees are gossiping ill wills.” Meriam said, looking around cautiously. This began to unsettle her party. Suddenly, small lights began to glow; leading them down the inner forest path. Meriam grabbed the knight who was about to follow them.

“I don’t think those fairies are the kind that are fond of humans.” She warned.

“Lies.” A small boy’s voice came from the bridge. Everyone looked down the water path, to see a small boy in a cone hat, and mucking gear on a small raft. He was using a pole to go through the water. He appeared to be a swamp wildling. Faries that resemble boys, but hate coddling and wield elemental powers to match their habitat. Meriam and her knights had seen ice ones in Grand Snow, and Storm Wildlings in Isfisceard. They usually hung in clubs causing mischief, but this one was alone. And it knew how to speak to humans; Which meant it must have met one.

“Hello!” Meriam said, dashing toward the bridge. Her men, now spooked, quickly ran after Meriam, fearing she was the only thing between them and death.

“My name is Meriam Craweleoth, I am a mage of Anglia, and me and my friends are looking for Seiph and the Stone Gate. Can you help us?” Meriam chimed.

“Play with me. The river is made by a dragon who breaths liquid fire to light the forest. The mermaids are at the bottom, and they might eat your friends. You can follow me though! You can call me Boomer. I don’t remember my fame name. been too long.” Boomer said enthusiastically.

           Boomer played tag with them, leading the party of six to a stone platform that came out of the glowing swamp. There was also no fey in the swamp, so Meriam guessed Boomer had made it as a moat around the buildings, and he only let friends pass. Meriam and her knights climbed the large stairs out of the water, and up to the top. It looked like a royal palace, made entirely of stone smaller houses, around a town square. In the center of the square, was a well that resembled an inviting fire pit. The place looked abandoned, yet lived in. There was a stable full of odd horses, goats and pigs, and a man in slate and peins grey silk fairy robes, smoking on a porch. He looked like Sirulius, down to his blue eyes, but his hair remained black, and he wore formal Sinonian makeup in a duo chrome teal. He looked surprised to see them.

“Look Seiph! New friends! And one is a mage!” Boomer exclaimed, running over to hug his knee. Seiph put out his pipe, and got up from his kneeling desk to greet his guests. He summoned short pillowed stools around the fire pit, and bowed.

“Io’s enchantments, and children, keep most folk far from here. I made this village with the stone children, for my family; all of which trust and love magic. Yet, they dare not enter the Forest of Lost Children. What makes you so brave you bare it?”

“We need to pass into the shadow veil, with the Stone Gate. We live in the capital of Anglia, on the other side of the Raven Gate. We have traveled across the world, and are desperate to go home to our own families.” Meriam pleaded.

“Your guards wear fine clothes; they are paid well. I can only assume you are The Mage Queen. Are your men aware they would have to pass the terror of the shadow veil, to get home? As if this cursed daycare isn’t terrorizing enough?” Seiph said sternly.

“My Queen, you did not say the shadow veil would hurt us…” one of the knights said.

“It won’t. It will just be unsettling to the point of causing you to go dark from sensory confussion. I know how to treat your fever and bleeding, from the magic flow that results from your …discomfort as common folk. I can quickly prepare a potion of Rosa Sanguine, when we immerge. Though, if you’re lucky, your eyes and hair may be a more radiant hue.” Meriam said. “Do you not trust me? I would not put in danger, or make you do anything I didn’t think you could do.” She finished. Her guards were so tiered, and wanted to go home so badly, but now they were torn by terror. Seiph transmuted a pot, and made them some tea. It was the same good matcha their previous host said was from his wife. They all took a seat. The glow of the fire and tree children, was like lanterns in the dark of the forest; which echoed the whispers, and calls of fey.

“Let us share some tales and tea, while your common folk decide thier fates. Do you trust your queen and the power of the love for your families, and in your hearts? Or will you sacrum to fear of the ‘darker’ side of magic. Even if you choose to battle your greatest emotions, in the ether of all enchantment, I must add it is difficult to get to Stone Queen’s Gate.” Seiph said. They took their cups of tea in silence, and Seiph gave Boomer some warm milk and a lap to sleep on. Boomer was the only wilding in this forest, and he was also one of the few fey who were kind here. If it isn’t a stone child, Seiph warned, it is not worth trusting in the magic forest of the Stone Gate. This is the magic forest the beast king’s send the fey children that don’t play nice with the kingdoms of men.

           Meriam started by informing Seiph that his brother Sirlius, had fallen in love with Asada of the Monkey Gate; to fulfill her destiny and dreams. It proved Seiph was capable of smiling. Then the knights went on about the Emperor denying their request for peace, after saving the town from Sirulius’s storm; which they needed to appease the Sultan of Indonia. All of these things where done in order to gain safe global passage, and encircle Francia into surrender, or alliance. Just saying it, reminded them of the wars going on at boarders around the world. Battles that claimed their brothers, uncles and fathers, and of which they were lucky enough to never attend.

“I can put in a good word about an alliance. Though neutrality is the best result; Sinonia is aligned with Francia and Indonia, and is attempting to take the Eastlands of Vieticia. A quarter our land is desert, another quarter is alpine. We need lush landa as much as our allies. Not to mention, our Emperor is a greedy evil bastard; Our ore alone could buy Sinonia anything it wishes from merchants; Yet he hoards it. You should see the imperial palace. But still, the emperor may align with you if I want it. You see, He wants a court mage so bad, but dare not fetch me from this forest, or threaten my family. He fears me, yet desires me. He tries to butters me, while eating from my spoon. I could care less for his cause, but his favor amuses me. I don’t want more soldiers dying for a pointless battle; It’s frankly stupid. On behalf of Sinonia, I accept the peace of the West and North kingdoms. If traveling across the plains of fire, and into this forest, then through the shadow veil, does not convince this kingdom of your value, I do not know what will.” Seiph explained. The crackling warmth fire that burned before them, was a deep unnatural orange, that comforted deep into the bones. Meriam thought she should have warned Seiph, Sirulius, and Asada, of wizards; but realized they were untouchable due to their curses. No matter the comfort of the magic flames, she felt sad. She felt guilt for not warning her guards and friends of danger, in order to preserve their ignorant bliss. Being a Seer of magic, had taught her the value of not knowing. As her heart sank, Meriam heard all five of her beloved knights agree to her terms. They, as common folk, trusted that magic would not hurt them; and they would endure the shadow veil to hug the ones they loved.

NEXT--->

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[asterythm]

A is for Amour || Prince of Your Dreams (7)

Pairings: Slow burn Logicality, eventual Prinxiety Word Count: 3.9k Chapter Summary: "Once upon a time in a far-off kingdom, there lay a small village at the edge of the woods..." So the story begins, as Roman’s heard repeated hundreds of times before. But every fairy tale must have its villain -- now, who could that possibly be? Chapter Warnings: emotionally abusive/manipulative character originally inspired by Deceit, gaslighting, food mention

<< First Chapter || < Previous Chapter || Read this chapter on AO3

***

Auburn.

That was the colour of Roman Foley’s hair, a lovely kind of cross between red and brown and gold and all the other warm and fiery tones in between. It was already quite a handsome colour during the daytime, but right now it looked positively gorgeous (a fact that certainly hadn’t escaped Roman’s notice). The warm light cascading downwards from the street lamp above Roman’s head gave the impression that there was a fiery halo of sorts framing his face, illuminating his features with an almost otherworldly glow. 

But of course, he wasn’t just standing around for the sake of looking good; he’d just wanted to be able to see his friends’ faces as he talked to them. Though it was biting cold out and Roman knew that he had a limited amount of time before he had to head to rehearsals, it was only a couple of minutes extra that Roman wanted to spend chatting — surely that would be okay. 

Besides, Roman’s best friend Kai Brenton was in the middle of the funniest story, and Roman didn’t want to leave without finding out how it ended.

“…so then I told her, that’s not a weasel, that’s my sister!” finished Kai, a wide grin on his face. Roman laughed again, loudly. 

Not all of them found the punchline quite so amusing, though. On the other side of Roman, another of his friends spoke up between sips of green tea. “Uh, pause, pause, pause — you have a sister? How come you never told us about her?” Remy Somnus asked.

“What? What made you think I had a sister?”

“That was the whole point of the joke, Rem,” said Elliot, elbowing his fraternal twin in the ribs. “Come on, were you even listening at all?”

Remy scoffed as he drained the last dregs of tea from his plastic Starbucks cup. “Okay, whatever, my bad. You know I love you, Brenton babe, but I had more important things on my mind.” He took careful aim before throwing the cup in a graceful arc through the air. It landed in the snow next to the trash can he’d been shooting for. “Dang.”

“Yeah, it’s chill. You know I don’t really care.” Kai gave his sassy friend first a shrug, then a punch on the shoulder.

“Ow! Hey, you just said you don’t care!” protested Remy. Rubbing at his sore shoulder, he looked between Elliot and Kai. “What’s with all the violence today?”

“I meant that I don’t care about you not listening; littering is a whole ‘nother story. Pick up your trash, moron. Mother Nature works hard to protect us. You’d probably have better aim if you weren’t wearing those sunglasses all the time, by the way.”

Remy did as he was told, jogging over to grab the cup… but not without protest. “Okay, seriously? Is no one gonna, like, ask me about what I was talking about just now?” Roman’s ever-sassy friend loudly complained over his shoulder in a mock-annoyed tone of voice. “Like, with the whole more important things on my mind thing? I’m gonna be honest, I’m feeling a little unappreciated here.” Remy bent down to pick up the plastic cup, tossed it into the bin, and made his way back to the group. “But, you know, any of you could speak up right now. And make me feel not unappreciated. It would be, like super easy to satisfy the curiosity that’s probably… burning inside of you right now. You just have to ask.” 

A pause. 

“Oh my gosh, do I have to spell it out for you guys? Why do I even try? I don’t even know why I try. Seriously, all you’ve gotta do is say —” 

Fondly grinning, Roman interrupted his friend. “Hey, Remy, what were you talking about just now with the whole more important things on your mind thing?”

“Aha — there we go, thank you!” Remy glared at Elliot and Kai. “See, guys, this is why Roman is, like, a hundred times better than all of you combined.”

Out of the corner of his mouth, Roman mumbled, “Sometimes I feel like you’re even more dramatic than I am, Remy.”

“No way anyone could ever be more dramatic than you, hun,” quietly shot back Remy before he cleared his throat to address all three of them. “I’m so glad you asked. See, the thing is, you ladies have all been acting real stressed out lately, about school or work or home stuff or whatever, and TBH it’s really stressing me out too. You know we can’t have that. Stress makes you wrinkle up. So I took it upon myself to head down to my favourite club, the good ol’ Lemon Lime Loophole, and I rented out a private karaoke room for us four.“ As Remy spoke, Roman watched both Kai and Elliot perk up with delight. Remy continued, “Just a fun night out to relax and unwind. Dear Britney Spears knows it’s been too long since our last karaoke night, and you all obviously really need it.”

“Hang on, did you actually?” exclaimed Elliot, eyes gleaming. 

“Remy, that’s perfect!” Next to him, Kai bounced gleefully up and down. “Aah, this is gonna be so much fun!”

“I know, I know, I’m the best. Say thank you, Remy…”

“Thank you, Remy!” Kai and Elliot chorused like little children, almost in perfect unison with each other, before returning to their enthusiastic babbling, faster and louder until they were almost tripping over every word before flying to the next. 

Roman, in the meantime, said nothing at all.

But none of his friends noticed Roman’s uncharacteristic silence: Kai and Elliot were already enthusiastically working out a list of songs they wanted to get through before the end of the evening, and Remy was busy soaking in the praise, obviously pleased with himself and the positive response to his brilliant idea.

After preening for another moment or two, Remy said, “Come on, let’s hurry. We’ve got twenty minutes to get there or they’ll give away our reservation to someone else. I’ll drive, cool?” 

That was when Roman finally spoke up. “Guys…” he began. “I’d love to come along — really, I would. But I have a rehearsal today, remember? For Into the Woods . You didn’t forget, did you?” He was dismayed to see the joy in his three friends’ faces immediately fizzle out.

“…Well, damn,” mumbled an uncharacteristically spiritless Remy at last. “I did forget. Sorry, Roman.”

(Yeah, thought Roman — though of course he didn’t say anything out loud — I kind of figured as much.)

“Maybe — maybe we can reschedule!” It was Kai this time, trying (and failing) to hide his disappointment. “We’ll find another time when we can all go together.”

“Wait, what? No! No, that’s not what I’m saying at all!” Roman spluttered in surprise. “No, you guys can totally go ahead. Don’t let me stop you! I mean, yes, I wish I could be there with you, but just because I’m not coming doesn’t mean you have to give up on this, too.”

“But… I don’t want you to feel bad about missing out.”

“Honestly, it would just make me feel way worse if I knew that you skipped out on your karaoke night just to make me feel better.”

Elliot hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, positive!” Roman said, much more confidently than he felt. He forced a smile. Showing any kind of weakness or doubt was out of the question; he had to convince Remy, Elliot and Kai that it really was okay for them to go ahead without him, and the only way he was sure he could convince them was by convincing himself of the same thing. It was undeniably easy to tell how much his friends wanted to do this. Roman was determined not to let his own scheduling conflict stop them. “Go on, go have fun. Just promise me you’ll do something from Hamilton for me, okay?”

“...Okay,” Kai finally agreed after a long pause. “Thanks, Roman.”

“And Remy has to be Peggy.”

“Hey — what? Hell no!” 

“Relax, Rem, I was kidding! Agh! Don’t hurt me!”

***

“I must have her —”

Prince Charming paused dramatically, taking a deep breath before raising his chin and hardening his features into a resolute mask —

“— to wife…“

Holding the ending note (a high one, for sure, but nothing that he couldn’t handle), Prince Charming stood from the painted drama box he’d been sitting on and crossed the stage to meet up with the Other Prince. One strong and rich, the other clear and sweet, their voices together formed a beautiful blend to fill every square inch of previously empty space in the rehearsal room.

Prince Charming made eye contact with his scene partner a beat before the music cut off. He grinned. The Other Prince grinned back.

A second of silence.

And then the scene was over, and Prince Charming was Roman and the Other Prince was Kyle again, and the silence was broken by the sound of sparse applause from a handful of the other cast members who had been watching the duet play out. It wasn’t the first time that they had gone through the song without any mistakes or silly little slip-ups, but it was the first time that the entire scene had gone off without a hitch. Both Princes had followed their blocking to a T and not once had either of them needed to call for line. The scene had come together perfectly, and both of them knew it.

So, apparently, did his director, Adri. Satisfaction was clear to be seen on her glowing face as she joined in on the scattered applause. “Excellent work, Roman, Kyle! You’ve still got to pay attention to your volume and make sure you’re not pushing the tempo of the song too much, but otherwise, that was flawless. Keep up the good work.” She turned to address the rest of the room. “Alright, folks, that’s the last of our scene-by-scene work for the day. Make sure you’re drinking plenty of water. We’ll take five and then run the show from the top, so you’re all going to want to be well-hydrated.” 

The room leapt to life the second she finished speaking. Roman and Kyle shared a quick high-five before making their way offstage, chatting all the way.

“Awesome job, Roman!” said Kyle encouragingly.

“Oh, thank you so much! Right back at you, of course. This scene is going to turn out marvellously, I can just feel it.”

Kyle nodded, cheerful. “Well, I could go for a cup of coffee. Want anything?”

“Coffee?” Roman raised his eyebrows. "At half past nine? Kyle, it’s been dark out for at least two hours already. How do you expect to get any sleep tonight if you drink coffee now?”

“Ehh… I guess you’re right. Maybe I’ll just get bubble tea or something instead.”

“Boba’s good.” Roman said with a nod. “Just make sure you’re back before break’s over or Adri might bite your head off.”

“Heh, yeah — wait, you’re not coming with?”

“No, I think I’ll hang back. Go over the script a few more times before we start, you know? And maybe get some notes from Adri while I’m at it.”

“Gotcha. No worries. See you soon, man.” Kyle grabbed his coat and stepped out with a wave goodbye. Roman wandered over to his backpack to grab a drink of water. Then, he pulled out a granola bar and, munching on the healthy snack, he began flipping through the pages of his script. He was checking for any issues, anything that might get in the way of a flawless performance (he would settle for nothing less), making sure he hadn’t forgotten any of the blocking or any lines since the last time they’d run the show all the way. As expected, though, Roman’s careful search turned out to be unnecessary. 

Which was great, except now he had nothing to do; he’d realized only after getting to rehearsal that he’d left his laptop at home by accident, meaning he couldn’t spend his break finishing up any schoolwork like he would typically do. Roman reached for his bag, put away his script. Without anything to keep him busy, it wasn’t long before his mind began freely wandering. His imagination took him anywhere and everywhere and nowhere in particular all at once — then suddenly made a crash landing somewhere familiar: a private karaoke room within the walls of the Lemon Lime Loophole night club. 

Roman still couldn’t help but feel guilty for turning down Remy’s kind offer. His three friends had seemed so disappointed when he’d said that he couldn’t go with them, but it couldn’t be helped; he’d made the commitment to attend rehearsals and he had to see it through.

But, well… to be completely honest, Roman may not have agreed to go with the three of them even if he hadn’t had rehearsal that day. Not because he didn’t want to, or because he didn’t think that karaoke with his friends would be a fun time — Roman was sure that if he had gone with his friends to the Lemon Lime tonight, he would have ended up having the time of his life singing crazy show tunes or Disney songs with them.  

There was just one problem: what would Monet think? If the simple act of convincing his boyfriend to let him visit home every other weekend made Roman feel like he was walking on fragile eggshells, then trying to schedule a time and place to hang out with his friends was like — like strapping on ice skates with working chainsaws in place of blades and dancing a complex, fast-paced jig on top of those same eggshells. 

It would often end up taking days or sometimes even weeks of careful negotiations before Monet was willing to let Roman go anywhere without being by his side at all times. And even then, there were still rules that Roman had to follow: no flirting, be home by x o’clock, no more than four drinks, if anyone tries to hit on you then leave immediately, don’t show too much skin when you go out, send me a text and a photo every hour… All reasonable requests, and Roman could certainly understand where his boyfriend was coming from, but the fact remained that they were rules nonetheless. Sometimes it felt like the list never stopped growing.

It didn’t help that the three people who made up Roman’s closest circle of friends were all attractive young men the same age as Roman, either. Though Roman was being completely honest when he told Monet that all of them were only friends, Kai, Elliot, and Remy were undeniably handsome and there was, of course, never a dull moment with them around. 

It was easy to see why Monet, committed as he was to their relationship, might get a little bit distressed over how often Roman was hanging around the three of them. In fact, when Roman looked at the situation from his boyfriend’s point of view, he realized that Monet was already being generous enough, letting Roman spend as much time as he did with his group of friends. It wasn’t fair of Roman to ask for even more. And yet Monet was still willing to give it to him, under the right circumstances. 

Roman sighed. That boy really is incredible.

So though a night of karaoke with his friends was a pleasant thought in theory, Roman had known the second Remy extended the invitation that there was no way he’d be able to go. Really, he was grateful for the schedule conflict between Remy’s reservation and his rehearsal. Explaining that he couldn’t go because of a prior commitment was so much easier than explaining that he couldn’t go because his boyfriend wouldn’t like it; that latter option made Monet sound like a cruelly controlling criminal, which he wasn’t — but though Roman understood Monet’s motives perfectly well on his own, he had found that he always ran into difficulty when he tried to explain them to other people…

Two sharp claps interrupted Roman’s train of thought. A quick glance at the clock on the wall revealed that his break was over. Just as well; Roman’s spirits were starting to sag a little, thinking about the karaoke he was missing out on. But there was plenty of singing to do here at rehearsal, wasn’t there?

Roman rose to his feet, tossed the granola bar wrapper into the trash, and did some quick warm-ups to ensure he was fully prepared; a few brief stretches, a vocal sigh, one or two quiet tongue twisters. He finished up and turned just in time to greet Kyle, who was rushing in with a half-finished plastic cup of bubble tea in his hands. The sight immediately reminded Roman of Remy’s antics with a similar plastic cup earlier that day, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. Stop thinking about them, he ordered himself. It’s rehearsal time. Focus!

“Kyle, just in time,” Roman greeted with a smile.

Kyle put his drink in a safe place where it wouldn’t spill over and made eye contact with Roman. He didn’t smile back this time. “Who’s Kyle?”  

“Oh. Right, my bad.”

Kyle — pardon, the Other Prince — was apparently in character already. Perhaps Roman ought to be doing the same.

Roman breathed in, deeply, drawing as much oxygen into his diaphragm as he could, and let his eyelids flutter gently shut. Then, he slowly released the air from his lungs, and released all the bits and pieces of “Roman” with it.

While the young man melted away, the music began. Light, crystalline, clear, bouncing. Then, gently, came the singing: 

“I wish —”

“More than anything —”

By the time the young man opened his eyes again, Roman had dissolved into the background, no more than a ghost fluttering between steady, rhythmic pulses. 

“More than life —”

“More than jewels —”

And in his place, standing where Roman had once stood: a perfect Prince Charming.

“I wish…”

***

Roman was so tired by the time he got back to his and Monet’s house that evening, he ended up collapsing on the couch only seconds after he’d finished hanging up his thick winter coat. Stretching, Roman let out a huge yawn. The rest of his rehearsal had gone just fine, but the single granola bar he had packed for himself hadn’t been completely sufficient to keep his energy levels up. After all of the jumping around and running back and forth and vocal work, the drive home that day had been a long one.

Hearing Monet shuffling up behind him, Roman turned around. He watched Monet take in Roman’s state of being for a brief handful of seconds, then Roman’s boyfriend gave Roman a small smile and sat down next to him on the couch.

“Hey there, Prince Charming. Long day, huh?” 

Roman let another yawn, somehow even bigger than the last, escape. That was answer enough.

“Oh, you poor thing, you must be completely worn out.” Monet shook his head as he wrapped a protective arm around Roman, pulling him close. “I’m so proud of you, Princey. You’ve been working so hard on this show of yours! I’d bet you anything that when show week begins, you’re going to be the best actor on the stage.” 

Roman snuggled up against his boyfriend’s shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent. Hot chocolate on a cold winter day. "Heh. You’re just saying that.”

“No, I mean it. You’re crazy good, Ro,” Monet insisted. “You’re definitely going to become a world-famous actor some day, I’m sure of it. And then every time I see that cute face of yours plastered on a billboard or magazine cover or something, I can point and say, ‘You see that guy? Roman Foley, the bright shining superstar? He’s my boyfriend, you know.’ Everyone’s going to be so jealous of me.”

“I, uh…” 

For some reason, Monet’s usually welcome compliments left Roman feeling a little hollow inside today. But I suppose it’s the thought that counts. 

Luckily, though Roman was tired, he wasn’t so out of power that he couldn’t even act out some enthusiasm for Monet’s sake.

“...appreciate that,” he eventually settled for, giving Monet a quick peck on the cheek before returning his head to its resting position. “You’re always too good to me, you know.”

Roman felt his boyfriend’s shoulder shake a little bit as Monet chuckled. “Oh, trust me — I know.”

With that, the two of them were back to cuddling. It was nice, but Roman couldn’t help but feel like he should be saying something.

“You are coming to watch the performance, right?” he eventually settled on.

Roman couldn’t see his face, but he could tell from his tone of voice that Monet was smiling. “Of course I’m coming to watch the performance. I promised I would, didn’t I? Trust me, Ro, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Then, all of a sudden, Roman’s head hit the couch cushions. Monet had stood up without warning and was now watching Roman expectantly. 

With a considerable amount of effort, Roman pushed himself back up to a sitting position, grumbling. “Come baaaack... I was comfortable!” he whined. “Don’t just abandon me here, Monet.”

“It’s getting late, and you’re tired. I wasn’t about to let you fall asleep on top of me. You’d have woken up cramped and sore all over.” Monet reached out and grabbed Roman’s hand. “Come on, sleepy head, let’s get you to up the stairs and into bed.” Ignoring Roman’s further protests, Monet pulled him to his feet. 

Roman swayed in place for a moment before heavily settling back down onto the couch. “Nuh-uh, not moving. Couch soft.”

“The bed’s softer, silly. I already said, you’ll be sore in the morning if you sleep down here. Let’s go.”

Hearing a note of impatience in his boyfriend’s tone, Roman gave a small groan, but got up just like Monet asked. He leaned on Monet all the way over to their staircase, at which point Monet remembered an unfinished assignment and left Roman to fend for himself. So Roman climbed up the stairs and got ready for bed on his own, all the while swearing he could hear scattered notes and lyrics from Into the Woods still bouncing sluggishly from ear to tired ear:

It takes two . I thought one was enough, it’s not true — it takes two of us .

Humming the song’s simple melody, Roman slid with a contented sigh under the soft gold and red covers of the double bed that he and Monet shared. 

(You came through — when the journey was rough, it took you — it took two of us.)

Monet had been totally right, just like he always was. The bed was way softer.

(It takes care — it takes patience and fear and despair — to change.)

But something was distinctly missing: the warmth of another person beside him. 

(Though you swear to change, who can tell if you do?)  

Tired though he was, Roman always felt so small when he lay all alone in their large bed. Even as he drifted off, he found himself wishing for someone to lie there next to him.

(It takes two.)

***

[next chapter]

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[prairiedust]

Red or Green? The literary and folk themes of Oroborous

Red or green is the official state question of New Mexico as ratified by the legislature in 1996. Order anything at any restaurant, even a burger in some places, and you’ll likely be asked “Red or green?” Do you want red chile sauce on your entree, or do you prefer green chile? The “state question” can sometimes reveal geographical origins-- red sauce is supposedly favored in the northern half of the state, while green is more popular in the south (I lived in the south, and you could easily get either one anywhere so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .) The best green chiles are grown in the south, so maybe that has something to do with it-- like wine grapes, chiles from different parts of the state have different flavor profiles. Green chiles from the Hatch area are world famous.

But it’s important to remember that the sauces are made from the exact same fruit. The difference is all in the timing. Green chiles are harvested early, unripe, then roasted and chopped up and canned or put in the freezer, whereas red sauce is made from chiles that have been allowed to ripen fully and are then (typically) dried.

It’s all about timing. Let your chiles stay on the plant too long, and you miss your chance at the magical elixir that is green chile sauce.

Timing.

The sister stories of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty are, to a great extent, about timing. They are about waiting, about vigils, and about being at the right place at the right time-- or the exact wrong time.

(If you have not already read this rundown of Snow White in season 14, I suggest at least reading a few of the translations of the original folktales here or here. And cw the Sleeping Beauty story called Sun Moon and Talia is dark. I’ll be discussing the difference between the original material and the Disneyfied stories somewhat. Usual disclaimer that this is lit crit and not spec, why you ask, because I am a hundred years old is why.)

I want to say first that Steve Yockey in Ouroboros did a truly wonderful job allegorizing the story of Snow White, which has been teased for a while now. In the Grimms’ Snow White, as in other tales of that type, Snow White has been 1. run into the wilderness by her stepmother, B. taken in by a group of dwarfs, Three: then poisoned by that stepmother and fourthly laid to rest in a glass coffin. While the story has been poked at over the course of several episodes, Yockey sums it all up again in this one.

Dean-- along with the rest of TFW 2.0-- has been traipsing around New Mexico looking for a peculiar monster. Trope one. From the screen shot it looks like they’ve possibly been through Clovis, Roswell, Albuquerque, and finally made it up to Raton. As far as wildernesses and in-between places go, New Mexico is the most liminal state in the union-- many people in the country think it’s part of Mexico and if you think that’s a joke when I was a senior looking at colleges I had two well respected schools send me their foreign student applications. Roswell. AAAAaaaaahhhh Roswell. Roswell is the city that straddles reality and science fiction. They fry ice cream in New Mexico, they eat both ripe and unripe chiles there, and they have old mountain forests and arid white sand deserts within fifty miles of one another.

Another nod to the Snow White story is the Ma’lek Box that Dean mentions again-- B-- it can be seen as an allusion to Snow White’s glass coffin (in other versions, it is merely ornate or sometimes bedecked in rare gems but it is definitely something that she alone can not get out of… being dead and all...)

Finally, when the Gorgon knocks him out and Michael escapes, Sam tends Dean’s wounds while he is unconscious, which fulfills the traditional Snow White requirement for someone other than the king/prince to affect a physical change in the heroine’s state-- cutting off an enchanted dress or jostling the coffin so that the bite of poisoned apple can be coughed out-- in order to bring her back to life. Walt Disney and his studio added the “first love’s kiss” into the Snow White matrix in 1938, not even a century ago, but it quickly took over the narrative-- Disney also brings the story into a more accessible reality for modern viewers, he introduces the prince into the actual storyline earlier than in the folk tale, and then has him awaken her with The Kiss. Which do we, as an audience, prefer? The rabbit-hole of darker, more psychological Snow White tale types, or Disney’s recent and overwhelmingly iconic romantic reimagining?

Red or green?

Yockey gave us green, the version that has not ripened into what most people know as Snow White through the Disney cinematic behemoth.

The other duality in this episode is that we have Sleeping Beauty being referenced simultaneously with Snow White’s allegory.

Sleeping Beauty is Cas’ story and elements from that tale type can be seen in how the Gorgon stalks and overcomes his prey. The Gorgon uses sex to snare a human for consumption-- he says he’s an opportunist but that women have begun to be more cautious now that they are “waking up” from a long period of oppression. Sleeping Beauty’s deep sleep comes as the result of a symbolic sexual awakening-- in the more recent stories that awakening comes from the machinations of an enemy, so it is more a violation than a sudden innocent awareness. Where am I going with this? I don’t even know, this seems like it belongs in a different essay. What I’m trying to say is that the Gorgon uses sex to put people into a state of paralysis, and the evil fairy (known in the Disney movie as Maleficent) used a sexual metaphor to lure Briar Rose to her doom before she was ready for that kind of encounter. We are asked to contemplate the symbolic aspect of the Gorgon’s predation because he also uses a symbolic act-- eating eyeballs-- to see into the future and thus subvert the natural order of time.

In Sleeping Beauty, the evil crone/Maleficent also subverts the timeline by jumping place in line. She was not invited to the party in honor of the infant princess, but after nearly all of the other wise women have given Briar Rose their blessings, she breaks in to curse the baby. There is always one fairy left who, while not powerful enough to nullify the curse, can modify it to a deep sleep instead of death. In Ouroboros, TFW2 exploits the fact that Cas and Jack exist outside of the workings of Fate to defeat the Gorgon, but not without great cost.

Which brings us to The Wrong Kiss. I didn’t even want to meta the Sleeping Beauty stuff because of the kiss, seriously. So. What happens to Briar Rose is tragic, but in the three most famous versions of the story she comes out of her enchantment because a prince falls in love with her. Jack, here, as a result of Cas’ deal with the Empty, is no longer in the Sleeping Beauty story, he is not a Prince but a Giant-Killer once more, and the antidote he administers to counteract the Gorgon’s venom will not work. Once he activates his giant-killing powers, he can heal Castiel. (In the reciprocal, Cas is an agent of the SB story and the antidote works on the dude the Gorgon was about to eat because Cas administers it. It’s a very meta way of treating the folklore theme by both subverting it and keeping certain characters strictly within the parameters.)

Jack finally lives up to his name as a Giant-Killer when he takes out Michael. In Appalachian and English Jack Tales, Jack is always clever, sometimes to the point of unscrupulousness, but in the story Jack and the Beanstalk he is a naive picaro who betters his circumstances through reliance on his simple nature as much as his wits. Often “Jack” does not change as a result of his adventures, as most fairytale heroes do, but like many other mythological tricksters he operates outside the bounds of normal morality. Jack Kline has managed to hold onto his innocence despite initiation into the Winchester clan. Now that Jack has, presumably, burned off some large portion of his soul, it will be interesting to see how his picaresque nature might actually change. Because the story of Jack the Giant-Killer? Not the same story as Jack and the Beanstalk. The Giant-Killer is the story of a deadly clever young man who defeats several giants as well as Lucifer using mainly his wits and is afterward given a place on King Arthur’s Round Table. The story in its entirety borrows from Cornish, Welsh, and Briton mythology, echoing other simple folktales as well as hearkening to high heroes of the Mabinogi. Jack has become larger than life. (AN I started this before Peace of Mind, I’ll get to that one by the end of the season maybe :P )

In a less meta sense of course, this episode is one huge mythological allusion-- Cas refers to Dean’s imprisonment of Michael as a “herculean” feat, the MOTW is a Gorgon (and traditionally gorgons were a trio of cursed sisters in Greek legends,) and Dean enthusiastically references the 1981 Clash of the Titans film twice. In a /more/ meta vein, Andrew Dabb quotes the more recent Titans movie in a tweet on this ep’s airdate. I find that exciting because the story of Perseus in CotT features a descent into the underworld, and again while I flirt with speculation here I would REALLY like to see these nerds freaking raid the Empty.

As for Snow White and Sleeping Beauty now? Red or green?

It feels as though the Snow White story has possibly been tied up and tucked away now, solving the riddle of the “red or green” sister stories. Michael, Dean’s evil rival, is dead. Pretty sure. Whether his grace is contaminated and will have an adverse effect on Jack remains to be seen. See drsilverfish’s lovely analysis of the oroborous symbolism in the last two episodes for more discussion about what it means for Jack to have consumed Michael’s grace. But. Unless there is a Ghost of AU!Michael coming up, he’s gone.

We are left, however, with Cas’ deal with the Empty-- he gets to operate under normal parameters as long as he does not exceed the minimum threshold of happiness (and I want it to be an accidental or unexpected moment, unlike a lot of meta writers, but then that isn’t spec it’s just what I hope for.) And what does that mean for destiel subtext? I don’t know. Honestly, this is a little too intense for me, I am not “canon positive” or “endgame positive” and this episode freaked me out. Analytically, though, it places the subtext at a really interesting place. It means the princess who gets rescued from an enchanted doom is still on the loose, still avoiding Fate, and the prince is still out there having Adventures in the Woods. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[theotherwesley]

Wesley Watches And Rates All The Faust Operas

You thought I was kidding, but here we are: 

*I am not an expert, and my advice should never be followed.  I am but a humble nerd with a passion, dragging you along on my youtube-tour. You probably shouldn’t quote me, but using this as a starting point and guide to this particular musical and literary phenomenon is encouraged! The information below was gleaned largely from wikipedia, vague memories of my BA degree, and my own assessment of the source materials.

My ratings are based on my subjective enjoyment, and a few preferential criterion such as:  1) Was Mephistopheles fuckable, 2) Did I get to see an orgy of witches, 3)Does Marguerite pass the Sexy Lampshade Test, and 4) Was Faust Dragged to Hell.

Preliminary Notes: originally, the legend of Doctor Faust came from the sixteenth century and was inspired by one man (or possibly two who were later conflated), Johann SpidersGeorg Faust, who was your average practitioner of Renaissance Magic. He was not an especially savory individual; he had racked up quite a criminal record and been boastful enough of his “christlike” abilities to heal the sick and perform miracles that he’d seriously annoyed the church. He was denied entry into a city due to accusations of Necromancy and Sodomy. Being an alchemist, Faust got up to some particularly adventurous chemistry experiments, the last of which failed so spectacularly that his lab exploded and the doctor was reduced to his component parts. His remains after death were so gruesome that his colleagues came to the obvious conclusion: He’d been personally dragged to Hell by Satan himself. AND THUS WAS A LEGEND BORN.

The story of Faust was told and disseminated in sixteenth century chapbooks (early printing-press zines, if you will) as a dramatic morality tale. It is from the chapbooks we originally get the character of Mephistopheles, the pact exchanging 24 years of service for the soul, the famulus named Wagner, the wild adventures through various courts, and the conjuration of Helen of Troy. Aside from in the chapbooks, there is one version of Chrisopher Marlowe’s play Doctor Faustus, where the titular character is torn asunder by demons as he is dragged to hell-- but unfortunately for me, a known B-movie horror enthusiast-- this ending appears in no subsequent retellings of the Faust legend. Cowards.

Goethe’s play Faust is obviously the most famous adaptation of the legend, and through it the legend turns from a cautionary tale to a story of hubris, love, faith, and philosophy. If you’re not already familiar with Faust, you might take a moment to read it or at least check out the act summaries. You’ll understand everything that references it a lot better if you do, even if you just read Part I (the second part gets a bit tedious unless you have a fetish for Herodotus and metaphysics-- but there’s a cute homunculus in a bottle! and talking sphinxes and griffons! and kinky rose petals! Angel butts!!!). 

 Armed with this knowledge, let the opera tour begin:

Faust (1816, Louis Spohr)

--The Libretto with English translation 

--Playlist of the whole opera

It’s very pretty! The style and over-all sound reminds me of a Mozart opera, which, I guess, is not too surprising considering they were more or less contemporaries who trained and worked in similar circles. (Louis Spohr! He did collaborations with Beethoven! He invented the violin chinrest! Who knew! Not me! Anyway--) This Faust is not based on either Marlowe or Goethe’s Faust, but rather some miscellaneous adventures from the early Faust legends and chapbook pamphlets. In this version Faust ensnares a devil named Mephistopheles to his service, vowing to use his powers for the good of mankind. Great plan! That always goes well! 

There’s a love potion, a flying cape, a duel with an outraged rival-- all the usual necessities for a Faust story, only now there’s not one but TWO young women screwed over by Faust’s philandering! (His first love, Röschen, and erstwhile damsel-in-distress, Kunilingus. ....*checks notes*, sorry, no, “Kunigunde”). Mephistopheles is cattily insightful, the wronged women team up to avenge themselves against their seducer, and yes, yes indeed, Faust Is Dragged To Hell!  

The poetry of the libretto is quite pleasing, it’s got some great dialogue and epic fantasy sequences. Mephistopheles puts on show of infernal pyrotechnics with 17th century stage effects, all of them tremendous fire hazards. Someone gets dragged to Hell by a chorus of dancing goblins before Act 1 even finishes-- O my cup runneth over! We get the witches’ sabbath atop Mt Blocksberg, there’s a guest appearance by Sycorax, everyone gets real horny up there with a love potion, it’s great. 

Mephistopheles seems to be on the ladies’ side in the story (as much as he’s on any human’s side), in that he cautions them not to trust Faust, and urges them on when they FREAKING TEAM UP AND GO TO SEEK VENGEANCE. Oh my god it’s so great. Kunigunde attacks Faust and Faust freaks out and tells Mephistopheles to save him and Meph is all “what’s that? I don’t know, suddenly I can’t read”. Meph is also the one doing all the actual rescuing of distressed maidens, at Faust’s behest. He views Faust’s attempts to break the laws of Love and Nature with contempt, knowing that Faust’s soul is on the fast track to Hell. There’s no actual pact here; Meph is the one being held hostage. He makes sure that Faust doesn’t enjoy any of the spoils of his sorcery, so Faust’s ennui and dissatisfaction remain the same as before he began his quest to “Use Hell’s Powers For Good”. 

And just quick review of the scoreboard: Faust used his powers to do 1 (one) useful thing with his power before he ruined a bunch of people’s lives in quick succession, murdering Kunigunde’s betrothed and driving Rose to suicide. He still cries about it and the “rich seeds of Good he sowed” but Meph is having none of it and HE. DRAGS. THAT. BOY. TO. HELL!!!!!!! EXEUNT.

Rating: 4/5 Stars. Better than expected! I want a revival of this version! With stabbing! And special effects! Mephistopheles is truly doing the Lord’s work here, no offense to his demonship. Lost some points with me for being so very, very heavy on the pining and lovesick maidens, but won me back when the lovesick maidens picked up daggers. 

Faust and Marguerite (1855, Lutz) and Faust up to Date (1888, Lutz)

Straight up can’t find this one! But this early silent film short is apparently based on it?  IDK folks, if you have a recording of this you’d like to share with me, I’d be delighted to hear it. 

As for the burlesque, I suspect it hasn’t actually been performed since 1888. But the music is pretty cute! The Pas de Quatre, aka “Skirt Dance” seems to be the only track that’s stuck around. Here it is played on an old disc music box. 

Rating: ??? 

La damnation de Faust (1846, Berlioz) 

--Libretto in French and English

--La Damnation de Faust with Jonas Kaufmann --I like this one because Faust is super duper cute and this Mephistopheles reminds me of an OC makes yellow work. 

--This is the first of what I’m called The Big Three Faust Plays; all modeled after Goethe’s Faust specifically, written within roughly ten years of each other, and which feature the most well-known arias that I’m aware of. 

This opera positively reeks of Romanticism; it’s got Byron out the ears, it’s wading through Wordsworth, it’s doing the Grand Tour, it’s gazing mournfully from the top of Mont Blanc, contemplating Nature and the Human Spirit. It’s Berlioz, buckle up. 

The beginning is obviously Faust wallowing in ennui. He considers suicide, but is interrupted by a timely reminder of Christianity. Suddenly the devil appears in order to take advantage of a soul precariously teetering on the edge between redemption and damnation.  In this version, the devil does not announce himself as the devil, but rather as the ~Spirit of Life~, here to show Faust the joys of the world. (There’s no pact at first, Meph is just “get in bitch we’re going debauching” and Faust’s like “aight” and they’re off.) The devil takes Faust on a fun tour of life’s noteworthy attractions such as “Drunk Student Karaoke”, “Dancing Gnomes”, and “A Nice Forest Nap”.

During his magical nap Faust sees a vision of Marguerite (later we learn she has simultaneously dreamed of Faust) and falls in love. He awakes with the usual boner for this Maiden of Radiant and Humble Virtue who Nature Hath Sheltered In Perfect Simplicity, because that’s always a big turn-on. Meph steers the course of their interactions very carefully, using magic and fairies and wisps to enchant the couple’s surroundings to ensure they are surrounded by romantic atmosphere the whole time. Once they’ve gotten into some heavy necking, he bursts in and tells them that the whole town is coming with pitchforks and also someone’s told the girl’s mother and they’re in big trouble. Faust flees. 

Everyone does some quality Pining, Faust sings a sad song about Nature, and then Meph shows up again saying “hey I hope this doesn’t put a damper on our vacation, but Marguerite is in prison for murder and she’s going to be executed BUT QUICK, ACT NOW AND WE CAN SAVE HER for just one quick easy payment of your immortal soul” and Faust is just like “WHAT WHERE WHO WHAT UH FINE YES SURE OKAY SHIT, WOW, LET’S GO” and Meph is >:))) and they jump on their horses and ride off to go save her except OOPS, NO THEY DON’T because actually they are RIDING INTO THE WAITING JAWS OF HELL!!!! NYAK NYAK NYAK NYEEEEEHHHHH!!! Faust burns for eternity, Marguerite goes to heaven, curtain. 

Rating: 3.5/5 Look, I’m not saying I’m biased, but Mephistopheles doesn’t even show up until half an hour into the opera, okay? I find this one hard to sit through even though the music is really delightful; and I do mean it is gorgeous music. Between the two famous mocking serenades, “Devant la maison” shoots “Vous quid faites l’endormie” right out of the water; all the chorus pieces are fantastic; the Hungarian March is a great instrumental piece; Faust actually has some decent arias for once (rarer in each subsequent opera), and there is Brander’s wonderfully irreverent Rat Song... I think the reason this doesn’t hold my attention as much as other versions is that the plot is very meandering and the characters don’t have concrete motivations; they’re sad teenagers in love, I guess? And the devil tricks them? This whimsical aspect is 1000% part and parcel of the Romantic Aesthetic I realize, but personally I came for a recognizable story and got mostly pastoral vignettes. We spend half the opera listening to Frolicking Peasants and Men At Arms. Mephistopheles just hops out of the woodwork to play a dirty trick on a random guy getting his Byronic Mope on. There’s no pact, no soul-signing until the very end, and it’s just a plain ol’ tricky trap, not a device to punish hubris or moral crimes. I’m even reluctant to give this its rightful Dragged To Hell points because out of all the Faust scenarios, this is the one where he seems to deserve it the least! He doesn’t actually do anything bad! It’s not satisfying if he’s dragged to Hell for no reason! Pfui. However, points gained back for the made-up Satanic babble sung by infernal chorus at the end.  

Faust (1859, Gounod) 

--Libretto in French and English

--1995 Adaptation with Samuel Ramey as Mephistopheles  You already know I’m a slut for Samuel Ramey playing the devil in any capacity so I’ll spare you my gushing play-by-play of his performance. The quality of this video is.... not great. I apologize. I still love it, but you’re going to want to find a clearer recording of the music if you want to get the most out of this opera. 

--2011 Adaptation with Paul Gay as Mephistopheles (Warning: this version is quite lurid and includes some staging choices that I find pretty uncomfortable-- I can’t decide if the director is consciously trying to highlight predatory sexism as a bad thing or if it’s just kind of included to make things seem ~spicy~. Anyway, it’s otherwise a high quality production with an interesting set design, just be warned that there’s some on-stage grossness. Also, a hilariously bad decapitated head prop! --to accompany a truly baffling ending. To its credit, the death of Valentin was genuinely pretty moving and made me feel... er, well, anything about the character. Tassis Christoyannis’s made that aria memorable, which is more than I can say of other productions. 

Second of the Big Three! 

Gounod introduces a more complete cast of characters borrowed from Goethe’s Faust to flesh out the the story and setting; we meet Wagner the student, a regiment of soldiers including Marguerite’s brother, Valentin, and their young friend Siebel (a pants role-- which immediately endears me to this character because I’m a ~big ol’ queer~). Later we meet Marguerite’s nosy old neighbor, Martha, who is REAL thirsty for Mephistopheles and who I relate to very much.

 This opera follows Goethe’s Faust- Part I much more closely than its predecessor, and where it does not follow the original, it diverges in favor of making the story more engaging and streamlined. There is WAY LESS pining into the aether, and more sword fights. The larger cast of named characters makes for more interactions, which in turn makes for more memorable moments on stage, better dialogue, a comprehensible timeline of events, and more concrete motivations for everyone. 

A SUMMARY: Faust’s pact in this version has nothing to do with the philosophical wager seen in Goethe, but is simply an exchange of his soul for returned youth. He is old, he’s spent his life studying, he wants to be young and full of passion again. He seals the deal after the devil offers him a vision of Marguerite, whose sight is so inspiring and lovely that Faust is overcome with desire for her alone. They go to find her, encountering on the way a regiment of students and soldiers, one of whom is Marguerite’s brother, Valentin, who is going off to war leaving his sister in the care of young Siebel. Getting Marguerite to stop and talk to Faust proves difficult since she is so pure and virtuous that A) Mephistopheles has no power over her, and B) she’s wary of the compliments of strangers. Faust gets Mephistopheles to bring her a case of jewels to warm her up to him, then Mephistopheles concocts a ruse to distract her nosy neighbor Martha and give them an excuse to meet Marguerite (shenanigans ensue). The ploy works, Marguerite is seduced, and in love with Faust. Cut to some time in the future, when Oh No Everything Has Gone Horribly Wrong; Faust has gone away and left Marguerite pregnant and unmarried, she is shunned by society with the exception of Siebel, meanwhile her brother has come home from the war to find her in a disgrace. Faust and Mephistopheles eventually return, but encounter an enraged Valentin who duels Faust to avenge his sister’s honor. Faust, of course, uses Mephistopheles’s magic to cheat, and Valentin is fatally stabbed. With his dying breaths, he curses his sister and blames her for his death, since he died defending her honor-- the people who witness this are rightfully aghast that he’d use his last moments to denounce his own sister-- and rightly so, because that’s a real dick move. Faust flees, and Marguerite is left on her own with no support and a newborn child to care for. She seeks refuge and forgiveness in the church, but finds she cannot pray, haunted by voices and cursed by Mephistopheles himself, as he whispers in her ear, promising damnation. She faints, and is presumably driven mad. Cut to Faust, who is being treated to a front-row seat of Walpurgisnacht. During the revels he sees another vision of Marguerite, this time of her in chains and awaiting execution for the murder of her child. Mephistopheles grudgingly takes Faust to see her in prison, where he tries to rescue her. In her fevered state she will not leave, wanting Faust to instead stay with her in the cell. During the delay, she sees Mephistopheles and finally puts two and two together, knowing a devil when she sees one, and understanding that Faust is not only responsible for her suffering but also in league with infernal powers. She pushes him aside, rejects him, and throws herself instead on the mercy of God, choosing death and redemption over being rescued by the man whose affections ruined her. Mephistopheles ruefully pronounces her condemned, but a voice from Heaven pronounces her Saved. Faust watches in awe as Marguerite’s soul ascends to Heaven, and he is left alone and presumably damned. 

Why is this framing of the story significant? Because it’s about her. Faust is only an instrument; his soul is not especially remarkable, he might have been damned without any devil to encourage him.

 But Marguerite’s soul was untouchable to Mephistopheles; he puts a vision of her before Faust for a reason. We don’t waste any time bemoaning Faust’s moral downfall; Faust is not the one seeking redemption at the end of the opera. Faust is a means to an end, and that end is leading an otherwise spotless soul into perdition.

 This opera has Mephistopheles at his most sinister, his most manipulative; he is the one driving Marguerite deeper into misfortune, who isolates her, mocks her, whispers condemnation into her ear her until she doubts everything. Desperate, without support and seeing no way forward, no future for herself or her child, Marguerite kills her baby, or is led to do so by Mephistopheles. Without a doubt, this has been the devil’s plan all along, and with Marguerite now branded a murderess, he thinks he’s won. But Faust, despite taking no responsibility for his actions, nevertheless feels pity and remorse at her misfortune, and goes to rescue her--and  this gives Marguerite the chance to finally see what he is.

 She rejects him; she does not choose love, she does not choose to live or be rescued by the forces that ruined her in the first place. She stays, renews her faith, and thwarts Mephistopheles’s best efforts to damn her. This is not about a man's hubris; it is about Marguerite escaping the devil and saving herself on her own terms. That’s why I find this version to be poignant. 

Some musical highlights: “Le veau d’or” (the golden calf)-- if not my favorite of Mephistopheles’s ballads then in the top three, particularly because it lends itself to some flamboyant acting; Marguerite’s “Ballade un roi de Thulé” (the king of Thule) is absolutely haunting; and "Seigneur, daignez permettre", aka The Church Scene is fucking incredible-- the juxtaposition of Marguerite’s pleas and the choir’s Dies Irae, the echoing church organs in the background, Damnation seeming to gain a voice of its own to summon her... it’s some real Eyes-of-Notre-Dame Hellfire shit. 

Rating: 5/5! A perfect score! Gounod wins the first place ribbon. Though he beats Boito’s “Mefistofele” (up next) on several key points, I want you to know that my personal bias will probably always be in favor of “Mefistofele” on account of being a ho for the titular character. --But Gounod’s is the better opera, fair and square. “Faust” has the most comprehensive storyline, the most memorable arias, and the best (I think) balance of both humor and poignance.  I will give this version the benefit of a Dragged to Hell point even though we don’t actually get to see the final deed. The Walpurgisnacht scene does exist as a ballet, so I’ll still give it the points even though it gets cut out of most productions for length (sometimes the ballet is performed as a stand-alone event). Additionally, he scores most favorably on the Marguerite > Sexy Lampshade scale-- this is a story about her more than it’s about Faust or Mephistopheles, and I’m here for that.

Thank you Mr. Gounod, you may retrieve your Incredibly Prestigious Award from my blog after the ceremony. 

Mefistofele (1868, Boito) 

--Libretto in Italian and English

--HERE IT IS, MY FAVORITE ONE, MY FAVORITE MEPHISTOPHELES, SAMUEL RAMEY, MOSTLY SHIRTLESS, FLIPPING OFF GOD AND LIGHTING A CIGARETTE ON STAGE IN HIS MATCHING CHERRY-RED TAILCOAT AND VIOLIN CASE 1989 (WHICH IS THE YEAR OF MY BIRTH, NO COINCIDENCE, I THINK)

--Oh, fun fact! The opera scene in Batman Begins is the chorus from the witches sabbath. If you thought it sounded familiar, this might be why.

Anyway. This is the third of the Big Three most-referenced Faust operas!  

Unlike its predecessors, Mefistofele covers both part I and part II of Goethe’s Faust, starting with the seduction of Marguerite and moving on to serenading Helen of Troy and finally with Faust’s redemption. The first part of the opera is very similar to Gonoud’s Faust, but first there is a Prologue, which is taken pretty much directly from Goethe.  And oh my god, is the Prologue hilarious. We encounter Mephistopheles, the titular character, on his way to work-- or more just loitering around in the aether as one does when one is bored and immortal and humanity is going on sinning with or without you, when he stops to greet the Lord God in passing, all satirical charm and sarcasm. God, very graciously, does not ask him whether he has anything better to do, but instead inquires if he knows Faust.

 “Oh yeah, that guy. Neck beard, likes science, big fan of yours. Sure I’ve heard of him,” says Meph. “Hey, you seem like a betting man--”

“Um,” says God.

Meph continues; “I bet I can tempt him into sinning and thus damn his immortal soul to Hell!” 

God agrees-- because God already knows the future and thinks this will be a fun way to build character. 

A choir of angels descends and Mephistopheles gets grossed out, sprays them with insect repellent, and leaves. (I am paraphrasing). 

The next few scenes are pretty familiar; Faust laments his ennui, a chorus of peasants and students celebrate a festival, Faust is on the cusp of a revelation that Jesus is neat, but is interrupted by the devil. The devil introduces himself, offers Faust his services on earth if Faust agrees to serve him in Hell after death. 

Faust, who seconds ago was ready to devote himself to a life of holiness, sayeth “yolo” and they shake on it, with the condition that Mephistopheles can reveal to him one moment of such surpassing joy and beauty that Faust will wish for it to last forever-- thereupon Faust consents to being dragged immediately to Hell. Because pssh, that’s later and who cares about later?? They hop on Mephistopheles’s magic cape, and fly off to have adventures.  CUT TO: Faust seducing Marguerite and Mephistopheles distracting her nosy neighbor Martha. THEY KISS, FAUST LEAVES, HE GOES TO A PARTY ON MT. BROCKEN. HE SEES A VISION: MARGUERITE IN PRISON! QUICK, TO THE RESCUE! BUT NO, SHE REJECTS HIM, HER SOUL IS SAVED, SHE DIES-- Wait, what? I hear you ask-- She just got here, she wasn’t even introduced, now we’re skipping to the end? The answer is: yes. Yes, you’re just supposed to know what’s going on already. 

To be fair, Faust operas are the Spiderman remakes of the nineteenth century; there’s a new one coming out every ten years or so, Goethe is required reading, everyone is writing Faust fanfiction-- no one is wondering who the girl is or how they met or is wondering if they’ll kiss or not. Everyone knows the plot already, it’s fine.

BUT THIS ISN’T THE END! No indeed! Now we are on a tour of PART II of Goethe’s Faust! You know, the part you skipped! Don’t worry, Boito isn’t making the entire metaphysical play into an opera, just the juicy bits with Helen of Troy. Marguerite is instantly and completely forgotten-- this is now a Helen/Faust one-shot, which Mephistopheles is forced to watch with annoyance. 

CUT TO: Faust’s old laboratory from Act 1, where he is on the brink of death, lost in a reverie of all the good times he’s had. Mephistopheles is hovering over him, tapping his wristwatch and reminding Faust of his past loves and glories, incredulous that Faust hasn’t yet found his One True Moment™.

 Faust just sighs and says “gee, I guess the REAL happiness was the good I could have done along the way but absolutely didn’t!” and God busts in through the ceiling with a HALLELUJAH and Mephistopheles is like “oh don’t you dare, don’t you fucking-- THINK OF ALL THE GOOD TIMES WE HAD, ALL THE SEXY LADIES I GOT YOU TO MEET! AFTER ALL I’VE DONE FOR YOU AS YOUR WINGMAN--” and Faust faceplants into the bible and goes straight to Heaven. Meph is left spitting in defiance as he sinks into the earth. THE END.

Why this framing is significant: The way Boito has arranged and cropped the scenes makes this story very much center around Mephistopheles. While Berlioz’s Faust was about the suffering of a young man for love, and Gounod’s was about the victory of Marguerite over Hell, Boito’s opera is about the humorous tragedy of Mephistopheles, whose endeavor was rigged to fail from the onset. 

Faust doesn't end up in Hell in Goethe's version, and I accept this because Mephistopheles lost his bet on a technicality: the Moment™ Faust wished to prolong was not provided by Mephistopheles, it was caused by his sincere desire to do a last bit of good in the world, coming to the conclusion (after being made blind by the goddess of Care) that benefiting mankind is what brings one happiness, not knowledge or fleeting pleasures. It wasn’t that he suddenly found Christ or gave himself over to God, as the opera implies, but because he finally realized the worth of striving to do good, and fond a source of platonic love within himself, which makes his soul redeemable despite his pact with the devil. So Goethe gives us a humanist, philosophical explanation for Faust's redemption..... BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY-- he has Mephistopheles lose Faust's immortal soul because he's Too Fucking Horny For An Angel Boy’s Ass. (I know when I’m being pandered to.) 

Unfortunately, Boito misses the whole philosophical trajectory of Goethe’s Faust and reduces it to a simple morality-play where a sinner is saved on his deathbed merely by acknowledging the hereafter. He doesn’t suffer blindness, he doesn’t actually DO anything good in his last hour, he just repents and decides Heaven is real after all at the last possible second before kicking the bucket. It would be disappointing, IF that were the point of the story. But that’s not where the drama is!

Like Gounod’s Faust, the focus was never really on the doctor at all; his redemption is not what we paid to see. It’s Mephistopheles’s reaction to losing Faust’s soul that makes the ending interesting, not the fact that Faust gets a free pass to Heaven. 

Highlights of this version: It’s fucking hilarious, and Mephistopheles is the star of the entire show. His arias are in turns sinister and sardonic, playful and powerful. The dialogue is taken directly from Goethe’s Faust in most cases (translated into Italian obviously), and hey, the dialogue in Goethe is really funny and good and witty! Hard to go wrong! 

“Ave Signor” (Hail, Lord!) is such a terrific opener; there will always be something delightful about the idea of the devil conversationally sassing God and daring to make a bet with the Almighty in the spirit of work-place rivalry. “Son Lo Spirito Che Nega Sempre Tutto” (I Am the Spirit That Denieth All Things) is full of dark bravado and rebellion, whistling defiance at the Lord. It’s a great Villain Song and as someone with sympathy for the devil it is completely my jam. “Ecco Il Mondo” (Behold the World) is both teasing and menacing and the staging lends itself to some glorious melodrama. “Ah! Su! Riddiamo, riddiamo” (Turning, turning) gets a prize for being the best infernal chorus and witches’ sabbath scene out of all of them-- it’s frenzied and spooky and satanic and whirling, everything you could want from an orgy of infernal creatures. Ten out of five stars, would exalt Satan to again.

Rating: 4.5 / 5 stars. Second place prize, and Honorable Mention for being the judge’s favorite. It’s not perfect. The story leaves much to be desired-- let’s face it, Part II of “Faust” isn’t especially... dynamic on its own, and especially when condensed to fit into opera format, the events don’t add up into a satisfying narrative.  Boito glosses over some frankly essential elements in the original and just has Faust skip right from his life-ruining adultery to being carried to Heaven on the backs of angels-- just for thinking of all the good he *could* have done if he hadn’t been, you know, a real stinker this whole time.  So I’m not giving Boito a pass for omitting Faust’s Hell Dragging. Furthermore, this play is woefully short on Marguerita; she basically just shows up to be seduced and then a second later is Ruined and Saved. Booo.

But hey-- is this play called “Faust”? Is this play called “Faust and Marguerita”? No. This play is called motherfuckin’ “Mefistofele”, because it’s about Mephistopheles. It’s about our suave, under-appreciated servant of Hell working hard for his cut, trying and squeeze just ONE life-altering moment out of this absolute dehydrated turd of a man, and the play is rife with his frustration. He is the one who whistles in defiance of God, and he loses because it is *inevitable* that he loses. God was never going to let him win that bet; Meph was a tool in his ultimate design to shepherd Faust closer to redemption. Mephistopheles is dragged off stage whistling in defiance as a lifetime’s worth of effort is flushed down the drain in a single moment of seemingly undeserved redemption. Not for a *solitary second* did we want this opera to be about Faust. No. This is the devil’s opera, and that’s why it’s so fucking great. 

Doktor Faust (1916–25, Busoni)

--Adaptation with Thomas Hampson 2006 

--Libretto in German and English

...And now, a German libretto written by an Italian, in contrast with Boito’s Italian libretto translated from German. 

God, this is such a modern ass Modern Opera. It does that thing I hate that modern operas do where the composer is like “What? You wanted a ~melody~? What is this, musical theater??” Like obviously they’ve transcended the need for anything so plebeian as a tune I can fucking hum. It’s very Intellectual, very High Art. The plot is full of tortured genius manpain, naval gazing, and I can’t remember a single aria from it. ...Okay, that’s a bit harsh; in the final two scenes Faust gets some lovely melancholy solos that actually stuck out to me. But this is a three hour long opera. So. Maybe skip ahead.

Plot-wise, this is the most existential of the bunch. No Marguerite in this one, just a Duchess with no name. Faust still ruins his lover’s life but in his final act he rejects both God and the Devil and uses his Supreme Human Will to transfer his life-force into his dead child’s body, resurrecting him as a young man with a blossoming frond of some kind. (Symbolism!!!) 

--This marks the full 180 turnaround from “Faust is forcibly dragged to hell by Satan himself and his body explodes all over the stage” to “NOT ONLY IS FAUST REDEEMED OF HIS SINS BUT HE TRANSCENDS BOTH HEAVEN AND HELL WITH THE INDOMITABLE FORCE OF HIS HUMAN WILL, GOD IS DEAD, FAUST IS THE ÜBERMENSCH”, and to that I say *ptttttttbbbbbbbb*.   

Rating: 1/5 stars.  Plot is ponderously philosophical, overweighted with symbolism, and the music, while interesting, is largely forgettable with a few exceptions. Also it is Three Goddamn Hours Long. Points lost for nameless female character who fails the Lampshade Test. Loses further points for a dry and flavorless Mephisopheles, boooo.     

The Rake's Progress (1951, Stravinsky)

--1992 production with Jerry Hadley and OH LOOK WHO IT IS IT’S SAMUEL RAMEY AGAIN HUH WELL DON’T MIND IF I DO this production is really, really well acted and funny and the dance portions are especially cool. 

--Libretto in English and Italian

Another modern opera, this time by a composer I actually like! 

Now, this isn’t technically a Faust opera; its based on a series of delightfully comedic prints by William Hogarth, detailing the decline and fall of a young man who inherits a huge sum of money, spurns his true love, and wastes his inheritance on foolish ventures and hookers, eventually ending up insane in Bedlam (I’m not saying tertiary syphilis, but definitely tertiary syphilis-- Let us take a moment to appreciate both condoms and penicillin.) 

In the original paintings there is no deal-making devil, but but luckily he’s been added in by librettist W.H. Auden (who was intermittently friends and lovers with Christopher Isherwood!!!!-- I just wanted to add that because it makes my gay little heart very happy). The names are all vaudevillian puns, such as “Tom Rakewell”, “Anne Trulov”, and “Sellem, the Auctioneer”. Mephistopheles has been exchanged for the slick, modern Nick Shadow.

Highlights of this version: Baba the Turk, the bearded lady that Nick convinces Tom to marry as a demonstration of his free will (???). Listen: I know she’s meant to be comic relief and is an unflattering stereotype, but dang if she didn’t win my heart completely. I like that her marriage with Tom apparently falls apart, not necessarily because she’s a bearded lady, but because she’s just very chatty and overbearing and is much better traveled than Tom, and has had numerous wealthy and important suitors who she won’t shut up about. She’s knows her own worth and conducts herself accordingly, and is very vocal when she knows she’s being treated badly. She’s got Anne’s back when they meet at the auction of all Tom’s property (which she was included in as an object because she was under a spell of silence and immobility-- rude), telling her to watch out for Nick Shadow and generally being very forgiving and understanding about the whole affair; she was hurt that Tom lied about his affections, but she doesn’t blame Anne for it, which is wholesome. Then she announces that she’s going back to her career on the stage because she is BABA and she has had enough of these scrubs. Anyway. I love her. She’s described very beautifully if you happen to like beards, which I do (and so did the author).  

“No Word From Tom” reminds me why I love Stravinsky so much (and Dawn Upshaw sings it like a nightingale). “Lanterloo My Lady” is spritely and fun and texturally interesting; besides, “sweet dreams my master, dreams may lie, but dream-- for when you wake you die” is chill-inducing. “How Dark and Dreadful is This Place” plus the whole card game in the cemetery is sad and grim and comical all at the same time; Tom is such a pathetic and naive mess you can’t help but feel sorry for him, even while Nick’s smugness is delicious. Tom’s mad songs are all quite touching and beautiful. 

Rating: 4/5 stars. The libretto is really excellent, jazzy, full of great wordplay and aphorisms. Nick is a delightful Mephistopheles; thoroughly modern, witty, sly, arch, fourth-wall breaking. Faust is not dragged to hell, but he is condemned to insanity. Loses points for a female lead whose entire purpose in life is to babysit this asshole through his poor life decisions. Also, while certainly more memorable and melodic than Busoni’s Faust, it still has that sort of shouty modern opera sound that I find a little challenging to listen to; but that said, the music fits the plot, and the plot is fun and absorbing, so while there may be fewer individual arias I’m likely to put on my jogging playlist, it’s engaging to watch as a production from start to finish.  

--Okay! That’s it! I know, I know, this isn’t actually a review of every Faust opera to date, but I have to get back to my life, and you already know my feelings on modern and contemporary opera. Thank you for bearing with me for this entire novel-length post that literally no one asked for!! You’re a the real hero here! I love you almost as much as I love Samuel Ramey in tights.  *stage kiss*  Yours in Service Here but in Mine Below, ~Wesley 

[thetaikamiya]

Something Special

((For @princesssincerity , I hope you have an awesome birthday! :D ))

Taichi lightly stepped around the main room, with his arms in a weird position as he repeated the movements.

The bell being rung, stopping Taichi in his tracks.

“Coming!” Taichi yelled out, making sure he was ready for the person on the other side of the door.

Just as he opened the door, he was greeted with a quick flash of the peace sign and a trademark heartwarming smile, meaning it could only be Mimi Tachikawa.

“Good morning Taichi!” Mimi said, full cheerfulness and eager to get the day started.

“Morning Mimi.” Taichi replied, with a chuckle, not as enthusiastic to be up so early in the morning, but happy to have some fun for the day.

“C’mon Taichi, it’s not like I’m making you do this.”

“True, I’m just tired. But I’m ready, don’t worry. Groceries, cooking, dinner, right?”

“Yep!”

Double checking he had his money ready, the two headed out to get supplies. After a quick walk and some small talk, the duo started filling their baskets for supplies for some treats they were making for friends and themselves.

“I honestly am still amazed at how you find such weird ingredients to make such delicious food.”

“Well, I could say I just have the magic touch, knowing what to pick the first time, but it’s a lot of trial and error. I’m persistent, because I love cooking, and I know I can make something special, I just have to keep trying!”

Taichi smiled, recognizing one of the many of their core similarities.

“I’m the same way, as you well know by now. I practice for soccer all the time, and well...I’m thinking of getting some training for some work in...I guess diplomacy?”

Mimi, in the middle of stretching to grab some sugar on the top shelf, paused and turned to look at Taichi.

“You want to be a diplomat?”

“...Nah, it was a silly idea forget it.”

Mimi immediately put the sugar in her basket, and loudly placed it on the ground, staring at Taichi with fierce determination.

“Taichi I’m not about to let you sink your own dream like that. I didn’t ask because I thought it was silly. I think you’d be really good at it. You’ve been our group leader for years, and you’ve been learning to be better at reading emotions in each of us, and carefully planning to account for that.”

Mimi bent over to pick up her basket, but stopped, looking sad about something.

“Besides...you never called my dreams silly, or stupid. Why would I do that to you?”

Her emphasis on “you” made Taichi’s heart skip a few beats. 

“I uh...Thanks Mimi.” Taichi said, floored by her passion for seeing his dream happen, even if she was the only one to know it.

“I hope you know that means you might have to go spend some time in America.”

“I do, do I?”

“Yep, and if you play your cards right, I might even come along.”

“You would, huh? That makes the whole idea that much nicer to me. Okay then Mimi, if you and your folks end up moving back overseas, I’ll see about coming with you guys.”

The two laughed, and continued to coyly and covertly flirt with each other, little by little. They kept it up all the way back to the Yagami residence, where Taichi helped Mimi get the ingredients in, and she in turn helped him get set up to cook alongside her.

“Where’s the rest of the family? I figured Hikari would be here at least.”

“Hikari’s out with Takeru, apparently he owes her some ice cream after losing some small bet, Dad’s at work, and Mom’s out to the gym for some swimming. Just us!”

Mimi arched an eyebrow with an equally snarky and flirty grin.

“Really...Hmm, you and me, here alone, in the kitchen. Taichi, you wouldn’t have planned this on purpose, right?”

Taichi laughed, and started working on his surprise dessert for Mimi.

“Mimi, I’m not that smooth.”

He was. He just wasn’t going to tell her until the last big surprise.

“Sure, fine, I totally believe you no wait no I don’t believe you. Taichi you sly dog, I never would’ve picked you for a plan like this.”

“Mimi, you greatly over-estimate my skills.I appreciate your confidence, but I think you’re banking on something I have very little of.”

“Fine, fine, you win Taichi.” Mimi grumbled, still feeling like Taichi had something planned.

After a few more hours of jokes, small talk, and discussions on personal and private dreams for the future, Taichi had finished up his cake, snuck her surprise message in with icing, and got it in the fridge at the right time, all the while she had baked some delicious desserts, both traditional Japanese and American dishes, and some of her own making, and Taichi was absolutely crazy for her latest dessert, which she nicknamed a “Taichi Swirl” in honor of his excitement and pure joy.

“So Taichi what are we going to do for...”

The doorbell rang, and on cue there was some Dream Factory Pizza delivered.

“Taichi, you got pizza without telling me?”

“You said how much you love pizza, so I wanted to take the chance to get some pizza for us. Is your favorite still a pep...”

To his relief, he looked over to see Mimi happily having a slice from her pizza, complete with a grin of delight on her face.

“Taichi...this pizza...is soooooooo goooood.”

“Only the best for a friend like you Mimi.”

Taichi, aware he just let his rather low-key appreciation of her slip out, embarrassingly scrambled to get the cake out and sneak it on to the table.

He had to get this part right. Sunset wasn’t something he could delay, or hurry up.

“Hey Mimi...Surprise!”

Mimi sat up and turned around to see Taichi smiling with a very nicely made cake in front of him.

“Is that the cake you made?”

“Your favorite flavors, and I had to get a little sneaky on the icing but...”

To Mimi’s shock and joy, the cake was made with such finesse that she felt a moment of doubt as to whether this was the same cake he made that morning. She then reminded herself of how he had her watching television while he was in the kitchen quietly working, and it all added up. 

“Taichi I didn’t...you don’t need to...”

“Sure I don’t need to. I’m not doing this because I needed to. I wanted to! Besides, this, is the true icing on the cake.”

With a click of a small remote in his hand, some American music turned on the speakers, and Taichi held his hand out.

“T-Taichi?!”

“Surprise...Learned how to dance. A little. You kept saying you wanted to dance with friends, but none of us knew how. So, a few lessons, practicing before you got here, and well...”

Mimi recognized the song as one from a rather popular series of movies, with a twist on typical fairy tales. She knew the name, but she was so touched by Taichi’s gesture she decided she’d think on that later.

With a beautiful sunset lighting up the room, the two slowly danced along, happy as can be.

“I wanted to surprise you because...You already do so much for me, this is one way for me to do something nice for you.”

“Thank you Taichi.”

“I love you Mimi.”

Mimi stopped mid dance, and with a mix of shock, joy and tears, she tightly hugged Taichi.

“I love you too Taichi!”

After some more dancing, the duo sat down, and enjoyed the cake, watching television, and smiling.

Taichi and Mimi loved how one another would inspire and support their ideas, work with them, and make the most of the best and worst times. 

Now...there was no fear, no worries. They loved one another, and the day would always be theirs.

[impracticaldemon]

Tales of Iron & Paper: Gajevy #1 Fiction of the Iron Slayer

Author's Note: The first of my Gajevy (or Gale) drabbles & short stories.  These will be published under the overall title “Tales of Iron & Paper”.

Prompt: [from @eliz1313 / eliz1369]  Gajeel & Levy in college... maybe stuck in an English/creative writing course together? :)

Words: ~ 1600  || Fanfiction Link

Fiction of the Iron Dragon (or, Secret Art of the Iron Dragon)

Levy was undeniably excited about her creative writing course. It was an invitation-only class, and invitations were only issued to students in their second or third year at Magnolia University who had demonstrated a talent for and an interest in writing during a prior year. Levy had always been a shoo-in, along with her best friend Lucy, but she hadn't fully believed she'd get in until the letter from the Chair of the English Department had arrived in the mail over the summer.

Levy and Lucy arrived early for the class and grabbed good spots by the windows not too far from the front. There was only one other student in the room, a guy a little older than they were who looked like he'd probably just stayed after an earlier class. They assumed that he would be heading out as soon as more of their own classmates arrived. Nothing about his multiple piercings, sleeveless navy T-shirt, or elaborate black Mohawk suggested an honours English student. He eyed them as they came in, but then went back to his book.

The rest of the students arrived in twos and threes, and Lucy eventually noticed that she'd lost her friend's attention. Levy kept looking back at Black Mohawk.

"What's up, Levy? I'm sure he'll figure it out once the class starts. Why do you keep staring at him?"

"I'm not staring," Levy replied, frowning. "It's more that… I recognize him now, and I feel kind of weird that I didn't say hi when we walked in."

"Um, he kind of stands out—how come you only remember him now?"

Levy huffed in exasperation. "Maybe because he had fewer piercings and no Mohawk last time? Geez, Luce, give me some credit. The point is, he's actually a local artist; he does amazingly delicate metalwork, real showpieces. Mostly for rich folks, I assume."

"And now he wants to learn how to write novels?"

"This class isn't just about novels," Levy pointed out. "You're just fixated."

"Moving right along, your point is?"

Levy turned a little pink. "Ah, well, he has this really cute—"

"Cat?" asked Lucy, sighing. "Levy, just because a guy has a cat—"

"Says you. You never would've met Natsu if I hadn't noticed Happy, am I right?"

Lucy sighed. "Yeah. But… it's not like he's asked me on a date."

Levy rolled her eyes. "So why don't you ask him? And it's not like you haven't been out to movies and dinner and stuff. He's just kind of… clueless, you know?"

"Yeah," repeated Lucy.

The prof arrived at that point, gave an enthusiastic outline of the course, and then explained that they weren't going to do introductions the usual way.

"Because that's boring, especially for a class full of budding creative geniuses." Lucy and Levy exchanged looks—they honestly couldn't tell from the prof's tone whether he meant it seriously, or in a joking way, or in a bitter, sarcastic way. Then the man grinned and raised his eyebrows. "Not sure how to take that? Well keep that in mind during the first part of today's first exercise: I'm going to assign partners, and you have ten minutes to get to know each other. You can say anything you want, but you both have to keep your eyes closed the whole time. There should be time to meet five or six other students—we'll take an hour—and then everyone will write down everything they can remember about who they met."

Several hands shot into the air, and some students just started calling out questions. The prof waited for the shouters to tail off and then picked up a sheet of paper. He ignored the waving hands just as thoroughly.

"When I call your name, please stand up. Like the animals of Noah's ark, you will get together two by two. I will inform you when time is up and who the next partners are. All set? Excellent."

He read out the first two names, ignoring a final, feebly waving hand. The two students named stood up, smiled a little awkwardly at each other, and walked away to the corner of the room not occupied by Black Mohawk. Speaking of whom…

For some reason, Levy wasn't remotely surprised when she found herself paired up with Black Mohawk, whose real name was Gajeel Redfox. Since he had a back corner of the room to himself, Levy walked over, trying not to stare. She was glad that the prof had read out the names. She could remember the cat's name—Pantherlily—but she wasn't all that good with people names, unless they came out of a book.

"Um, hi Gajeel, I'm Levy. You probably don't remember—"

The man grinned at her. He was big, and rather scary-looking, but Levy kept picturing the tears he'd blinked hastily away when she'd brought him his cat, in answer to a "Lost" ad posted on a tree.

"Ain't ya supposed to close yer eyes or something Levy? I wouldn't want ta mess up my first time in a university class by breakin the rules."

Levy stared at him. How did he even get into this course? What was he doing here?

Gajeel took in Levy's stunned expression. "C'mon, sit down, shorty. We don't want to waste our ten minutes, right?" He indicated a chair with a tilt of his head, and Levy sank into it, still confused.

Gajeel had seemed like a really good guy when they'd met before, but not exactly the Creative Writing course type, even without the mohawk. They'd kind of traded favours, in a way—she'd brought him his cat and he'd beaten the crap out of the guy who'd jumped her a couple of days later on her way back from a late class. She'd been lucky that Gajeel had been in the area. With the clock running now, Levy opted for the direct route.

"So, Gajeel," she said, obediently closing her eyes "how did you get into this class if you weren't attending Magnolia U last year?"

"Bribed the Dean," Gajeel responded immediately.

"You what?!" Levy's eyes flew open. There was an odd expression on her partner's face and a hint of a blush on his cheeks, but he made a big production of looking away until she closed her eyes again.

"Offered him two pieces of my art for the university if I could take this course. It was a good deal for him—my art's pretty pricey these days."

"Um, okay, yeah… I know it's gotten really popular, but why did you want to take this course."

There was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, and Levy could picture the big artist twisting in his seat.

"Well… seemed like a good way ta meet ya. Under better circumstances, so to speak."

"What?!" This time Levy kept her eyes closed, but she could feel the heat of the blush spreading across her cheeks. "You bribed the Dean of MU to let you take an invite-only class just so that you could meet me?"

"Kind of. I figured that this was the one class I could do okay in—on account of my song-writing, right?—and that way I'd get a chance to see you more often."

"You write songs?!" Levy asked, grasping at facts like a swimmer trying to grab a raft so they don't drown.

"Yeah. The band made me get the stupid Mohawk, but my hair's never been exactly normal anyway."

Gajeel sounded like he was on the verge of laughing. The more flustered Levy became, the more he relaxed. Levy debated asking him why he had gone to so much trouble to take a course with her, but she could only think of one answer and it made her too shy to ask.

"How, um, how much of this did you set up?" Levy squeaked instead.

"Gihi! Most of it, to be honest. It's how I demonstrated my creative ability to construct a viable plot with interesting and moderately rational characters." Gajeel was clearly quoting somebody, and his mimicry was perfect—he sounded exactly like their current prof. Levy wished she could open her eyes to see whether anybody else was paying attention to this bizarre scene out of a cut rate Disney movie.

In an eerie coincidence, their prof called out a two minute warning—although Levy was sure that it had been at least ten minutes already. She could only suppose that the Dean was a fan of Gajeel's artwork.

"Gajeel?"

"Yeah?"

"Aren't you supposed to ask me questions?" Levy asked a little timidly.

"Nah, that's okay. Although, uh… I do have one." He cleared his throat. "Would you go out with me on Thursday night? Just dinner, nothing weird, I promise. I'll, uh, try ta fix the hair, but no guarantees on that."

This time Levy opened her eyes on purpose and fixed Gajeel with her best 'don't mess with me' glare. It was surprisingly good for somebody who only reached five foot two in two-inch heels.

"I barely know you, Mr. Redfox," she said severely.

"But you had ten minutes to ask anything you wanted," he protested. "Not my fault you got stuck on irrelevant details."

"Irrelevant details?!"

"Is that a maybe?"

Levy stood up haughtily, took one look at Gajeel's wistful expression and sat down again.

"Fine. Thursday night?"

"Yes!" Levy turned red and tried not to grin when the artist-songwriter-maybe-boyfriend pumped a fist in the air in a universal expression of victory.

At the front of the class, the prof looked up from whatever he was writing.

"Ah. Very good then. Time to switch partners, class. Two-by-two if you please…"

[END]

A/Note: I have no idea where this came from. I just... I don't know. I hope you enjoyed this! Please leave a note or review if you can. :)

Tag: @shell-senji @pocketwoman7 @sanguine-fairy @sassyhazelowl @miss-zei @unashamed-shipper @faerieshrimp @thesweateristoobig @strawberrysweetlove35

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

CS Does VS part 3 CS-VS-NYE

Rating M

Words 4.1k

ao3      ffnet

A little New Year’s Eve fluff and smut in the CS Does VS verse at the request of @deathbycaptainswan. I hope you enjoy it, sorry it wasn’t complete by NYE.  Emma and Killian find themselves sidetracked while getting ready for the Storybrooke NYE party. Thank you @laschatzi for your beta assistance!

                                                      ~♥~

It was just after ten in the morning and Emma was lazing in bed still, but she really needed to get her ass in gear if she was going to help Mary Margaret prepare for tonight’s festivities as she’d promised.  Instead of Granny’s, there was going to be a New Year’s Eve bash at Emma’s parents new home. They’d moved out of the loft as it became more and more crowded with the littlest Nolan’s toys, and his constant zooming around in his walker.  They were going with a potluck style, which Emma found a questionable choice given that these were fairy tale folk, and they were always at Granny’s to eat.  However, given that she was raised in the land without magic and still couldn’t cook for shit, she decided to keep her mouth shut.

Killian had taken Henry and David out to sail at the crack of dawn today at Mary Margaret’s behest, partly for a boys bonding day, and partly to keep them out of the way during party prep. Emma was a little jealous that they got to be out on the open sea. She cringed at the thought of how many things she might burn, and decorations she might ruin.  Yes, she had magic in those hands, but said magic had yet to prove beneficial in anything domestic.   

Despite the long day and evening ahead of her, she was most excited for the after party.  She needed to prepare for that as well.  First things first though, she thought, sending a quick text to her mom to let her know she was on her way.

-.-

“Good morning, princess,” Regina laughed, sensing Emma’s less than enthusiastic demeanor.  “Excited for a day of domesticity?” She stood at the counter working on floral arrangements, with flowers the color of what had to be magic.

“Hey, I can do this.” Emma’s voice didn’t come out quite as confident as she’d hoped, and Regina and Mary Margaret burst into laughter.  “Wow. Thanks for the support, mom.”

“Oh sweetie, I don’t mean anything by it,” Mary Margaret smiled at her outraged daughter.  “You are excellent at many things.” Wiping her hands on her apron, she made her way over to her daughter to give her a hug.

Rolling her eyes, Emma took off her jacket, rolled up her sleeves and asked where to start.  

Mary Margaret pointed her in the direction of a table full of sparkly silver and teal decorations.  “I want a vase on each of the tables,There are a bunch of 2017 banners that I want placed throughout, the streamers can go on all the bannisters, the mantle and anywhere else you can hang them from.  We will have balloons too, which the boys are also picking up.  Oh the table cloths are folded on each of the buffet tables, put those out first-”

“What the hell are you two gonna do?”

“I’m doing it,” Regina snarked, “after these flowers are done, I have to get back home and bake a thousand lasagnas.”

“I am making all the desserts for tonight, unless you’d rather trade? I can decorate and you can bake?” her mother offered, already knowing what Emma’s answer would be.

“Fine,” Emma huffed, setting about her tasks. The three women worked on their own, while maintaining a conversation about all the latest happenings with the newest members of Storybrooke.  Each day revealed more and more residents from the land of untold stories.  

Several hours and a lunch break later, they’d finished the last of prep.  Mary Margaret stood smiling at the room around her, hands clasped in excitement.  “It’s been so long since I’ve hosted a ball,” the longing was clear in her voice, “and while this isn’t a ball, it is going to be a grand celebration, with everyone in the kingdom welcome to attend.”

Hearing her mother use the word kingdom, Emma wondered just how much the bandit princess missed life in Misthaven. “It’s going to be amazing,” Emma agreed, putting her arm around Mary Margaret’s shoulder.  

“You think so?”

“I do, family, friends, and Regina’s thousand lasagnas, how could it not be amazing.”  Emma giggled at her mother’s nervousness, royalty weren’t supposed to worry what the kingdom thought, yet here stood her mother worried over how the town of Storybrooke would like the party.  

Smiling at her daughter’s assurance, she turned to Emma and squeezed her in a tight hug, “Thanks for your help.  Now go home, relax for a bit, get all dolled up and we will see you tonight.”

Emma didn’t have to be told twice, she may’ve slept in, but she was tired of party prep. She still had an hour or two until Killian and Henry would be home, so she decided to head home and pamper herself and ‘get all dolled up’ as her mom said.  

She took her time in their en suite shower, shaving and trimming up every part of her body, she conditioned, exfoliated, and moisturized. Throwing her hair up in a towel, she decided to paint her nails and toenails in a shade of polish called candy cane red. As she read the color on the label she thought back to Christmas Eve, when Killian had taken her shopping.

“Henry is going to stay with Regina for Christmas Eve, and we will have him tomorrow for Christmas,” Emma had told her pirate. “Got any ideas what to do with all this time?” she asked, holding his hand across the dining table where they’d just finished breakfast.

Killian’s eyes brightened, and a grin split his face, just before he spoke words that Emma had not seen coming. “Let’s go shopping!”

Her mouth dropped open, looking at him as if he’d grown a third nipple... on his forehead. She’d found out over the last several months just how much her pirate loved to shop, but shopping over sex… what?

Killian burst into laughter. “Well of course that too, love, but let’s head to that mall of yours as well, I would love to buy you some more of Victoria’s secret, sinful scraps of lace.”

Standing up, a perturbed look marring her face, she pulled Killian up in front of her, “Are we getting old? Well you are old, but is our relationship old? We have an empty house, and the first thought you have is to go-”

Killian shut her up with a blazing kiss. The kind that didn’t leave any question in her mind about his intent. “Christ Emma, you think I don’t wish to have you every moment of every day? You have lost your mind, darling.” He thrust his hips into her showing her just how much he wanted her right this moment, his grip on her arm tight.

“That’s better, pirate.”

“You get mean when you desire a good fuck,” he said gruffly. Sliding hand and hook over her backside, he grasped her legs lifting her onto the table.  

“Can you blame a girl?”

“I guess I can’t, I’d get cranky too if I couldn’t have me.”

“Shut. Up. you cocky-” she was cut off when Killian brought a finger to her mouth to shush her. Her eyes widened at his audacity.

“Don’t be mean, Swan,” he warned her as he started to unbuckle his belt. “Or I might not feel obliged to give you what you are sorely lacking.” He smirked that infuriating smirk that sent liquid heat running through Emma. Dropping his pants to his ankles, he stood there proudly, cock at attention, because of course he was freeballing.  

“Is that right?” Still sitting on the table she leaned back on her elbows, and brought her feet up to the edge, then splayed her legs wide, revealing that she had no panties on. Killian audibly swallowed, and she could see the wrecked look that took over his features.  “I don’t think you’re in any position,” she reached out to stroke him, “to deny me a goddamn thing.”

He surged forward, leaning into her space, looking darkly into her eyes, “Too right, darling. Christ you are warm.”

“Maybe I’ve been thinking of you since I woke up this morning.” She gasped when he drove two fingers into her. “That feels so good, but it’s not what I want.”

“Tell me what you want, Emma, what you need.” She could feel his words on her face, and tensed at the heady growl in his tone.  

“I need,” she wrapped one hand around his hook, her other hand around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers, kissing him. She bit down on his lower lip tugging at it before, letting go to finish, “your cock, Killian.”

He didn’t wait another moment, much to Emma’s delighted relief, plunging into her until he was buried balls deep.

“Like this?”

“Yes,” she exhaled, still clutching onto his hook and neck, “Yes, just like that.” She closed her eyes, concentrating on the feeling of being joined with him. He didn’t disappoint as he fucked into her fast and hard, she pulled Killian down further, touching her forehead to his, feeling the need to be connected anywhere they could be.

Fuck, she thought as she finished up her nails. Emma had way too long to wait before she and Killian would be home from the party, for thoughts of those activities to be filling her mind now.

Once her nails were done she took the time, that she usually never had, to curl her hair. After applying her makeup she went to her drawers for the finishing touches. Fingering through the lace and satin she thought about which one would drive him the most wild.  

Killian arrived home later than he had planned, the boys had lost track of time, and didn’t start the sail back to port on time.  “Emma, I’m home,” he called out, “I know I’m late, sweetheart, but I promise I’ll be at flank speed getting ready.” Jogging up the stairs, he called out to her again, and even though the streets of Storybrooke had been calm for awhile, he still felt an inkling of worry blossom when she didn’t answer.

“I’m right here, babe, there’s no need to yell,” her voice came out low and silky.  

“Sorry, love,I…” but his words died in his throat when he turned around to see her sitting on the chaise lounge in the corner of the bedroom. She sat with her back propped against the arm, legs bent and crossed at the knee following the curve of the chair, and perfect golden curls surrounding her face. He took in the darkened makeup around her eyes, noting that she was wearing more kohl than he, brought out by a thick layer of mascara, framing her gorgeous green eyes.  Her lips were painted red, and she was sucking on one of those spicy and sweet confections, the red matched her lips.  “You’re not ready, won’t your mother be expecting us in a few minutes?”

“My dad just dropped you off, I am sure she expects you to primp and preen like you always do. And I promise you, Killian, I am very ready.”

“It’s not easy to look as devilishly handsome as I do, darling, it does take some work.” He licked his lower lip, his tongue peeking out at the corner as he moved toward her.  Killian removed his jacket and tossed it to the foot of the chaise. He watched her continue to suck on her candy, watching her throat as she swallowed. Kneeling down beside her he ran his hook over the smooth edge of her bodice, causing her to shiver.  “I like this one, then again, I like all of them.”

Emma had chosen the silver satin bow teddy. With a tie at the valley of her breasts, it was a simple but sexy number, all he needed to do was untie it, and it’d fall away, as easy as unwrapping a gift.  Smiling at him, she reached out her polished fingers to rub his ear, a spot she knew to be sensitive on her pirate.  Running her hand across his scruffy jaw, she cupped his chin, “I like it too.”

Her eyes positively sparkled, and he could smell the peppermint as she spoke to him. “Swan let me bathe first, I’ve been on the ocean all day,” he relished the hold she had on him, especially when she brought her other hand back to his ear rubbing the lobe. He groaned, closing his eyes and enjoying her touch.

“So? I love the way you smell when you’ve been sailing, salty, and manly. I love the way you taste as well,” she leaned in for a kiss, indeed tasting the salt on his lips, mixing with the mint on hers. Emma felt his other arm circle her body, his hand coming to rest on her ass, left uncovered by her teddy.  He squeezed it tightly, kneading at her pert flesh, soft and smooth. “I wanted to tease you all night, make you wait till we got home from the party, but then I realized I’d be suffering too.” She rested her forehead against his.

“You saucy little minx, why do you wish to torture me in a public forum?”

“It was more a crime of opportunity, we have to go to this party, I thought we would just wait till we got home, then I found myself thinking about last Saturday, and now I don’t want to wait.”

He pulled back from her, still kneading her bottom, looking into her eyes, “Very naughty, did you take care of yourself while you waited for me?”

Emma shook her head no.

“Hmmm, what shall I do with you?” He began unbuttoning his shirt, then stood up to untuck it and remove it. He handed it to Emma, pride swelling when she immediately brought it up to inhale his scent.

“Give me what I want,” she suggested, her tone growing needy.

“I don’t think I will. At least not just this moment, I believe I’ll tease you, by making you wait,” he smirked at the sudden pout on her face.  “I won’t make you wait all night, but I will have my shower… and you my dearest, you can wait right here.” He’d removed his boots and socks, unbuckled his pant and was now pushing them down his toned legs.

Emma’s mouth dropped open, chin almost to her chest. “What? Why?”

“I told you darling, I need to bathe, shame I’ll have to wash all of this,” he paused rubbing his hands down his chest, abs, and cupping his stiffened shaft in hand, “by me lonesome.” With that he dropped his boxer briefs, and headed for the shower.

Emma huffed in frustration, especially when she saw his shoulders shaking in laughter.  Cocky bastard, she cursed internally. For a fleeting moment she thought about freezing his shower water but decided against it, she didn’t want him to make her wait longer.

Killian hopped into the hot shower, still hard, and though it felt great on his sailing worked muscles, he made good on his original promise to get ready at flank speed.  Shutting off the water, he dried himself, then wrapped the towel low on his waist. Walking back out to their bedroom he was greeted by one of the most scintillating sights he’d ever had the pleasure to witness. His cock immediately shot back to attention, as he admired his Swan, legs spread over both sides of the chaise, heeled feet planted in the carpet, one hand caressing her satin covered breast, while the other languidly stroked between her thighs. “Started without me?” his voice came out gravelly.

“I got tired of waiting, I’ve already been waiting all afternoon,” she answered, not stopping her motions.  “Care to join me?”

He didn’t answer except to walk toward her dropping his towel. Kneeling down he leaned forward and moved her hand away from where he wanted to be.  He groaned when he saw her arousal through the soft material covering her.  “Gods, you are ready.” He pulled both her legs toward him so her back arched with the curvature of the chaise.  She smelled divine, and would taste even better.

Emma watched as he put each of her legs over his shoulders, treasuring the care he took, the soft touches, and sweet caresses.  He kissed along her right thigh while pushing the material to the side, then nestled into her center, causing her to cant her hips up toward his warm mouth.

He looked up at her from between her thighs, “Stay still love, let me take care of you.”

Emma nodded her head, unable to vocalize her answer. She was lost to the sight of his dark locks moving rhythmically, while his hand and hook held her in place.  

Killian breathed in deeply, appreciating her scent, before blowing gently over her center, eliciting a whine from Emma. He chuckled before setting back in, circling her clit mercilessly with his talented tongue.

Emma gripped the sides of the chaise, her head hung back in ecstasy, eyes trained on him.  She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. He was going to have her coming before he’d even entered her.  And though she felt the need to be fucked hard and fast, his adept tongue was addicting.  “God, Killian, almost, please, fuck.” She didn’t even have a coherent sentence to put together she just needed fucking release. She let go of the chair and fisted her hands through his hair, pushing his face into her center wantonly.

He growled against her when he felt her strong grip in his hair, his cock jumping at the show of dominance. He loved it when Emma was demanding and even a little rough.  He heard her whimper as he continued relentlessly. He knew the moment she let go, her legs going slack in his arms, and her grip loosening in his hair.  He flattened his tongue against her, carefully rolling it over her flesh, letting her ride through her orgasm. When her breathing calmed he pulled away, looking up at her wrecked state.  

“Get up here.”

He acquiesced, climbing on top of her, but not putting his weight on her. He leaned in to brush his nose to hers, “May I unwrap you now?”

“Yes, please. Killian?”

“Yes, love?”

“Have I ever told you that I love your fucking tongue?”

“Not in so many words, but the way you come when I’m indulging tells me as much.” He slipped his hand under the bow of her bodice, finding her peak stiffened, needing his attention. He pinched her nipple before rolling it between his fingers. Lowering his head he pushed the fabric away and sucked her into his mouth. He flicked his tongue against her pebbled flesh, before lightly biting her.

“Killian!” He sent a spark throughout her body when he bit at her. She could feel his rock hard length against her thigh, and longed to have him driving into her.

He switched to her other breast, knowing he hadn’t hurt her. He laved the same attentions on her, while untying the bow covering her. The satin fell away, revealing her perky breasts, flushed pink with desire, he slipped the garment, now barely more than a sash, from her body, taking a moment to marvel at her beauty. He dipped his head down to kiss her, feeling love coursing throughout his body, he couldn’t help but mold himself to her, “Gods I love you, Emma.”

Emma brought her hand to cup his cheek, looking into those eyes she couldn’t imagine not waking up to every morning, she wondered how he could go from sex god to heartwarming lover that quickly.  A tightness rose into her throat as she looked into his adoring gaze. She saw all the things that she’d needed her entire life, from every person that should’ve been there for her, and she saw them all in this man’s eyes. “I love you too, Killian.” Her voice shook with the height of emotion that she felt. She cupped the back of his head and guided his mouth to hers. She kissed him deeply, wrapping her arms around his torso she centered him to the cradle of her thighs, when she could feel his length against her she rolled her hips, urging him to take her. She’d wanted it hard and fast, but with one look he’d melted her, and she wanted it slow and gentle.

Killian reached between them to line himself up, rubbing his head through her wetness first, he was able to slide in smoothly. “Mmmm, you don’t know how luscious you feel sheathing me.” He surged in for another kiss while slowly withdrawing before sliding home again. He let Emma, who had both her hands on his ass, set a luxuriant pace, enabling her to appreciate the push and drag of every inch he had to give her, making sure to grind against her on each downward thrust.

Emma broke their kiss to breathe for a moment, her mind swirling with emotion, and her body buzzing with sensation. She felt as Killian continued to blaze a trail of kisses along her jaw, and down the column of her throat.  He was sucking just lightly enough to not cause a mark, but just barely.  He had his left arm propped by her head, to maintain his balance and some of his weight, right hand running through her hair, all while maintaining a perfect pace, bringing her to the edge of bliss once again.  She got lost in the feel of his length buried deep, and the way he spread her causing a pressure that bordered pleasure and pain.

Emma was there at the edge waiting for him, their hands and hearts a flurry of movement. “Let go, love,” he whispered into her ear.

“Come with me, Killian.” She held her body tightly to his, moving together as one to reach that ultimate high.

“Aye.”

Emma let herself fall, not wanting to hold the edge any longer, and she heard Killian call out her name through her lust addled haze. The warmth blossoming within spread throughout her body, right out to her fingertips.

Killian came the moment he felt Emma’s walls squeeze his cock, the rhythmic pulsing pulling forth all he had to give.  He could feel their temperature rise, like they were radiating heat between each other.  He called out her name, unable to keep quiet in deference to the pleasure that shot through him.  

“Emma,” he whispered, looking at her as they both rode the high.  He weaved his hand through her curls, and leaned down to kiss her again.

“Killian,” she whispered back, smiling lovingly at him.  She laced her arms around his neck as he kissed her senseless.  She relished just lying around making out with her pirate, especially after he’d thoroughly ravished her.  Unfortunately, they did have somewhere else they needed to be.

“You taste minty and sweet, I love that taste.”

Emma giggled, “It’s from the candy cane, want some?”

“I prefer tasting it this way,” he said, as he dove in to kiss her again.  He wanted to lay with her all night, and enjoy a quiet evening at home, but he knew they were expected at her parent’s home. “As much as I would love to lay here all night…”

“And makeout,” Emma finished for him.

“Aye, as much as I would love to lay here all night and makeout.  I suppose we should be getting ready.”

“You’re right, want to help wrap me back up? I haven’t decided what to wear yet,” she told him, as she sat up, and they both walked to the en suite to clean up. Emma gasped when she finished washing up and actually saw her hair in the mirror, “Well this won’t do.” She combed her fingers through it, trying to tame it back down.

“It’s a little wild love, it’s very becoming.” He leaned over her shoulder, sweeping the golden curls from her neck with his hook, and kissed behind her ear. He’d have her again right now if they didn’t have this damn party to attend.

“Uh, this is total sex hair, Killian, I can’t show up like this, then they would know exactly what held us up.” Finally fixing her hair back down into the soft curls she’d started with, she reapplied her lipstick that was half smeared around her mouth, while the rest stained Killian’s kiss swollen lips.  “You might want to clean that up a little,” Emma indicated to his mouth in the mirror.

“Not my color?” he deadpanned.

Emma laughed, “Come on, let’s get dressed, get this party done, come back here and makeout all night.”

“I love a good plan, Swan.”

She threw on the red and white, lace and fur Santa teddy under her black and white cocktail dress while he applied his signature kohl, deciding it’d still be fun to tease him tonight.

The End

[coaldustcanary]

2016 Fanfic Masterpost

I’ve seen some posts from folks I follow in a number of different fandoms doing a bit of an end-of-the-year writing roundup, and I really like that idea, so here we are. 

I’ve been fannish for a long time now - over 20 years at this point, which is more than a little terrifying to consider, let me tell you. But my fannish writing has been very intermittent over those years for the most part, and my participation in fandom was relatively narrow, particularly when I was working on my PhD. Through 2014 I wrote, on average, one fanwork a year for the previous 5 years, as usually I could be counted upon to participate in at least one A Song of Ice and Fire and/or Game of Thrones fanfic exchange, but not much beyond that. I also wrote a smattering of fic prior to 2009, much of it lost to the ages besides some random pieces I managed to get up on AO3. (I really need to take some time to go back and properly back-date those older works, oof. And dig up a few more on LJ communities that I couldn’t find when I did my original looking, if I can.)

But in the past year and a half or so I’ve come back to fandom in a much more enthusiastic way than I have since I was a teenager, thanks to falling hard for the Dragon Age games and then faceplanting into Once Upon a Time fandom. And in the past seven months I’ve written if not a lot of fic, definitely more than I have in a long, long time. It’s been a trip, in both good and bad ways, but I’m glad to be doing it.

The master list in chronological order with brief commentary:

Always Already (Dragon Age: Inquisition) Incomplete Planned eventual M rating, nothing above T in the current chapter tumblr link, AO3 link, 6025 words The Academic Conference AU that started it all this summer. I just could not let this headcanon go until I wrote this first chapter. I haven’t touched it since then for a variety of reasons, but even if I never get back to it I’m pleased with the chapter that exists and it got me back writing. It’s meant to be a massive DA:I ensemble AU, with this particular multi-chapter story involving some eventual Female Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford, but mostly I just want to finish this particular arc so I can just write snippets in the AU every time I need to say something cathartic about working at a university.

Hunger (Dragon Age: Origins) Rated G, Gen, Alistair & Female Brosca friendship tumblr link, AO3 link, 1835 words A short, introspective piece about one of my Dragon Age OCs. When you grow up without enough food, hungry all the time, what happens when the effects of blood magic make you even hungrier? Natia thinks about her life and her choices and finds common ground with her fellow Grey Warden.

Before a Fall (Game of Thrones) Mature, Yara Greyjoy/Daenerys Targaryen, GoT 6x09 post-ep scene tumblr link, AO3 link, 2698 words Written for the Game of Ships Seven Hells Challenge based off of the prompt “Pride”. I watched 6x09 on the Sunday night when it aired and swooned over Yara and Dany’s interaction. I wrote this intimate encounter the following Monday evening in one sitting. I ship Iron Dragon so very, very much. This fic took only about a month to become my most commented and kudosed fic ever on AO3, and I’m pretty happy with it.

Savior Fair - Princess (Once Upon a Time) Rated T, Captain Swan tumblr link, AO3 link, 2501 words My first OUAT fic, based on the August 2016 OUAT positivity challenge that tlynnwords put together. (I put all my pieces for this in a single work on AO3 called Savior Fair, since they’re Emma-centric.) Fluffy CS pillow talk set post-S5 before I’d much looked at S6 spoilers. I like this fic’s premise and flow, but I totally missed the mark with Emma’s voice in it. Her voice is tough for me, but I think I’m getting better.

Savior Fair - Smile (Once Upon a Time) Rated T, SwanFire tumblr link, AO3 link, 938 words My goal with the OUAT positivity fics was to focus on the best parts of Emma’s relationships with other characters. I think Neal is a fascinating character (and though I don’t ship SF, I’ve been a fan of Michael Raymond-James for a long time and I think he brings a lot of interesting nuance to the guy) and I think a lot about the time they spent together and what it would have meant to 17 year old Emma to have someone smile at her and mean it.

Savior Fair - Heart (Once Upon a Time) Rated T, Captain Swan, 4x12 missing scene tumblr link, AO3 link, 1274 words I needed a scene to bridge the gap between the conclusion to the showdown in the clock tower and Emma replacing Killian’s heart in his chest. Just a little feels-laden ficlet. (Apparently the original script had a line in the latter scene with Emma saying she felt strange holding his heart, and Killian replying that she’s already held it for ages, though I didn’t know that until after I wrote this bit, and it tends in a similar direction.)

Savior Fair - Trust (Once Upon a Time) Rated T, Emma & Milah, 5x14 missing scene tumblr link, AO3 link, 1647 words The last of the positivity prompts I got to (August is a tough time with the semester beginning, so much for my ambitions) and the one of which I’m the most proud. I have A Lot of Feelings about Milah and the way she’s treated in a many corners of OUAT fandom, and I’m still really mad about 5x14. Emma and Milah needed more time to talk. So they mostly talk about what they have in common. (And, honestly, Killian is only a small part of their similarities.) I am certain they would be friends, given the chance.

Steadfast (A Song of Ice and Fire) Rated T, Stannis Baratheon/Davos Seaworth, canon divergence/future fic AO3 link, 4071 words I did three fanfiction exchanges due in September this year, and I wrote this fic for thedevilchicken for the Game of Thrones exchange. Despite the name, this one is open to both book-verse and show-verse fics, and this one is an AU of the former. For some reason I seem to really like writing Stannis-as-king future AUs with a Davos POV, and nothing says Stannis/Davos loyalty than a retelling of a shockingly sad Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale about a broken toy that is loyal to his distant and unattainable love until he’s melted into scrap. (Spoiler alert: This version has a happier ending.)

Distracted (Dragon Age) Explicit, Anders/Karl Thekla AO3 link, 3094 words Smutty roleplaying with spanking written for green_sphynx for The Black Emporium, a Dragon Age rarepair exchange. Playful and porny PWP set sometime well before everything was terrible in Dragon Age 2.

Starstruck (Agent Carter/Doctor Who) Rated G, Gen, Tenth Doctor & Donna Noble, Peggy Carter & Angie Martinelli tumblr link, AO3 link,  3425 words Written for Grey_Cardinal for the Crossovering exchange. Ten and Donna cause a bit of a scene at the restaurant where Angie works. I quite like the premise of this fic and it was fun to write, though I really ought to have come up with more for Peggy to do in it.

Spectator Sport (Once Upon a Time) Rated G, Gen, Hooked Queen friendship, future fic tumblr link, AO3 link, 1063 words After having a really crummy day a few months back, I asked for some fic prompts (pairings and a word/idea) to take my mind off it and my lovely friends delivered. This is just a little vague future fic based on mryddinwilt’s prompt for Hooked Queen + parenting. However much they viciously snark at one another, I think they understand one another pretty well, too. And the mental image of them enduring discomfort to watch Henry’s high school soccer game was too good to pass up.

Wrapping (Game of Thrones) Rated T,  Yara Greyjoy/Daenerys Targaryen, University AU tumblr link, AO3 link, 1379 words Written for the Game of Ships “Until Hell Freezes Over” holiday/winter-themed event. I’m actually the advisor for a service learning club at my university, and those valiant students get run ragged as they try to finish up the term and also do good for their communities. Somehow I imagine that Dany would be that kind of overachiever, and Yara would just as clearly be her dubious but devoted girlfriend. I’ve been leery before of writing student AUs because I’m a teacher and it feels a bit odd, but I liked this AU a lot and might come back to it for writing more Iron Dragon because I’m sure canon is going to be a shit-show next season.

Clarity (Lucifer) Rated T, Gen, Linda Martin & Mazikeen friendship, 2x07 missing scene AO3 link, 2785 words I participated in Yuletide for the first time this year (yes, I know, I’ve somehow been in fandom for-freaking-ever and never done it before) and I matched on one of my newish fandom delights, Lucifer. Though this fandom is growing and probably won’t be eligible next year, sign-ups were before most of the season had aired, and my recipient, Lenore, requested Linda and Maze having a conversation about Heaven and Hell. Well, without getting too deep in to spoiler territory, canon pretty definitively implied that such a conversation occurred sometime between 2x07 and 2x08, so I decided it needed writing. Linda is my favorite character on Lucifer, and Maze is an utter gift. Writing this was a bit stressful (I was making last-minute edits the night before reveals from a hotel room) but I’m happy to have written it and received some lovely comments from folks, including the recipient.

So, all told, per my AO3 stats page I wrote 32,736 words of fanfic this year, which is far more than I’ve ever written in a year before. I also am starting to get a grip on what my strengths and weaknesses are as a writer, which is pretty wild but also motivating. My general approach to writing has long been “use deadlines as motivation, panic at the last minute, write frantically, throw it at the world like a grenade and take cover” and while I’m a good enough writer for that not to be as terrible as it sounds, I know I could be a lot better if I continue to change my approach to writing and write more frequently and steadily. Honestly, because I’m an academic by trade, this applies to my professional writing as well, and fanfic is good practice for me to refine my writing habits, which have vastly improved this year, even if they’re still not where I want them to be in the end. Here’s hoping I can keep it up in 2017.

[lucindatracey-blog]

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