#community fiction

[night-market-if]

Paper Lanterns Part 30

READ BEFORE CONTINUING

This is the final part to Paper Lanterns. There will be a small companion piece after this, to tie this and the Night Market IF together in a way. The MC's name (cannon MC) will be dropped in this part. Also, there needs to be a warning for this part. If you do not care about warnings, go ahead and read. If you are someone triggered, please the last tag in this post and read at your discretion.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29

Winner of the last vote was choice 2 and 3 in a tie

You step forward, placing yourself between the Baron and Malcolm and Hazel.  This was your fight. You had been the one foolish enough to be manipulated, and you were not about to let the two people you loved most in this world, suffer the consequences. The Baron knew this. Probably always had.  The way her grin stretched at your actions told you that this was what she had hoped for from the very beginning.  

“We can figure this out,” you said, holding your hands in the air in surrender.  Take it nice and easy. Nice and slow.  “You got a Gatekeeper here. We can find a world. One that can sustain your people.”

She quirked a brow at you. “So easy to offer the lives of strangers, isn’t it?”

You grit your teeth.  When the choice was between here or somewhere else, you were finding you didn’t care.  Here was what mattered.  Here was where Hazel was making a life, creating a business she loved. Finally, gaining confidence after being beaten down for so long.  Here was where Malcolm wandered the streets, his smile easy. So much easier than what it had been when you were children, back when he was still born inside a body he hated, living the life of the little girl his mother wanted him to be instead of who he truly was.  Now, he walked with purpose. The anger having melted away a long time ago to be replaced with broad shoulders and a look that made you weak in the knees.

Here was your home. For the first time in forever, you could admit it. Here was the place you were meant to be. And you would protect it.

“You want to take the deal or not?” you ask, your stomach rolling with fear.

The Baron walked forward, delight on her face. She was shorter than you and as she came toe to toe, she popped upwards, her fetid breath heating your face. “No,” she said.

Behind you, Malcolm moved. “I’m calling the council,” he said.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Outside, the windows blacked out.  Faces, pale and full of pointed teeth, were looking in.

“We’re done,” Malcolm said. “You want access to the gates, fine. I give it over to all of you.  But controlled.  This was never something that should have been given to one person alone.”

“It wasn’t,” she agreed. “But the Night Market deemed it so.  Therefore, who are we to squash tradition.”

“So there’s no negotiating?” Malcolm asked.

“Of course not,” she tittered. “Did you ever think there was?”

You looked at her, dropping your palms. “No. Which is why we had you come here.”

From the second floor, something began to rumble. While the Baron was dancing and playing her game, Hazel had slowly made her way up the iron stairs, curling herself into something small and unseen. Hazel was often forgotten and for once, it was to your advantage.  From the second story, you could see her.  Her arms were rising slowly in the air, her eyes pitch block with green flames flickering vividly inside. Her hair and skirts rose, the world around her becoming weightless as she was lifted from the ground, a hex rumbling from her lips.

For the first time, the Baron looked scared.

You rushed forward then, grabbing the Baron by the waist and forcing her backwards to the floor. She screamed, her cries ear splitting just as the door burst open and the vampires came rushing in.  Bottles began to shatter around you, noxious fumes rising in the air as the contents fell to the floor, burning through the wood.  The screams began to sound louder and louder, filling the room with piercing wails that rattled the foundation of the shop.  Hazel’s head snapped back, the words coming from her throat guttural and deep.

Then the ash began to spin.

Dozens of vampires stood around you, motionless, their bodies vibrating and still as stone as their insides began to shake apart. Blood poured from their eyes, their nose. Black putrid sludge as their organs liquified into something foul.  And then they started to crumble. One by one their faces slid from their skull before their bones rattled into dust and all that was left was ash that swirled up into the air, twisting together in one long braid that shot towards a little garden gnome that sat on the front counter.

Malcolm stood by it, twirling a key in his hand.  When him and the Baron locked eyes, he slammed the key to the floor.

The gnome rattled and shook before exploding into a thousand shards. All of which formed into a shimmering door.  A gate. Now open. And one in which Hazel sent the remains of the vampires through.

You looked down at the Baron. “You're next,” you said.

Murder colored her cheeks, her youthful face now twisted into something batlike and cruel. Red eyes soaked in blood, an elongated jaw and a flat nose with two slits. Her nails grew long and curved and the incisors of her teeth stretched through her now cracked lips.  Opening her mouth, she screamed and lunged for you.

You were prepared for the attack but not for the strength. Not with the way your side was still healing.  She lashed out at you, connecting with the recently closed wound.  Above, you could hear Hazel thud to the ground, the hex taking its toll. It would be up to you and Malcolm to shove this Baron through the door.

Rolling on the ground, you tried to hold your own.  You could see Malcolm rushing towards you, and you knew that if he reached you, the two of you could do this. This could all be over.  You had been so stupid. So so stupid. And you planned to tell him that. How irrational you had acted this past year. You never should have let him go. You never should have let him walk away from you. You…

Your side split in pain as the Baron dug her nails into you and the wet and sticky feel of blood soaked your tunic.  You screamed, crying out in both pain and surprise as you felt her long talons wiggling inside you. 

She was bent over you, laughing, her eyes bright and shining as she breathed so close to your face, ready to sink her fangs in you.  But then Malcolm was there, ripping her away and leaving you bleeding on the ground, your side shredded.  You gripped at the tear near your hip, feeling the split flesh and knowing this was going to take more than Hazel’s tonics to cure.  You had to help Malcolm though.

Looking up, you could see the two of them, Barons locked in a battle.  The Baron of the Mists was fast, lashing and clawing and screaming in shrills that broke the last remnants of the windows within the shop.  She was kicking out in blurred strikes that Malcolm was parrying.  

He had this. 

Slowly, he was leading her towards the still open gate, the two of them battling across the now broken apothecary.  

But then something happened. Something that you watched in slow motion.

Hazel came down the steps, her face ashen and cold. You stood, blood dripping between your fingers, and Malcolm looked at you two. Taking his gaze away for one moment. One singular moment.

The Baron’s long, curled claws sunk into either of Malcolm’s sides, lifting him off the ground before throwing him across the room.  He rolled, hitting the bottom of a bookcase, the shelving falling upon him.

Hazel screamed, running towards him while you looked at the Baron.  She was panting, hurt, staring at you.  You stumbled forward, ready to drag her through the gate, going with her if you had to.  But she grinned, something wide and feral as she scented the air.

“Kill me or say goodbye,” she whispered, blood dripping from her lips. “Which will it be?”

She didn’t give you a chance to respond. When your eyes ticked to Malcolm, she took off. Wings sprouting from her back as she launched herself into the air, tearing through the roof of the shop.

Debris fell down around you in a cacophony of noise and ruble, and you covered your head, trying to protect yourself from the onslaught. When everything settled, the shop grew quiet. The only sound the crackling of the gate, humming beneath the blue willow wisps that began to gather in the opening above.

That, and Hazel’s tears.

You looked over. Malcolm was cradled in her lap. The siblings had their heads pressed together as they traded soft words.  Malcolm was gripping her hand tightly, smiling at her while she nodded to each breath. When she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her brother's cheek, you felt your heart break.

Slowly, as if walking through water, you made it to their side, sinking to your knees.  Malcolm’s sides were in ribbons, blood pooling beneath the three of you, his face becoming grey and cold.

“Hey button,” he smiled, reaching up and cupping your cheek.  You could feel the tears spilling forward, dripping ugly down the side of your face. Down your chin.

“Mal?”

“Don’t do it,” he said.  “You’ll see me around.”

You shake your head.  A restless spirit. Someone haunting this shop forever.  Just like the alley. Just like everything that haunted them each night, screaming in the dark for the lives they lost. Malcolm would lose his mind one day but the Night Market had taken its hold of him so long ago. You didn’t want that for him. He deserved to be vibrant and whole. Not a spirit of vengeance that could barely cling to who he once was.

“Hazel, you have to do something,” you said desperately. “Heal him.”

The sob that ripped from her throat was aching. “I can’t. I used up too much power already.”

You looked at her with dawning horror, your body beginning to shake uncontrollably.  Hazel could not meet your eyes and Malcolm was kneading the side of your neck with fingers growing weaker with each passing second.  “There has to be a way to stop this.  There has to…”

“Milo,” he said your name and your head snapped upwards. His expression was soft. That one he only showed you in the early morning light when you two were curled in bed together, not quite ready to face the world.  You weren’t ready to face this.  “Tell me you love me before I go.”

You shake your head. “No.”

Malcolm’s thumb drifts across your cheek as he smiles sadly at you.  “Stubborn.”

“Mal, please, don’t do this,” you began to beg.  You had just gotten him back. You weren’t ready for the warmth of his arms to leave you or not catch a glimpse of him throughout the market. That was not the life you had fought for. “I can’t do this without you. I stayed here for you. I didn’t leave all those years ago because I didn’t want to leave you. You can’t leave me now. It’s not fair.”

Malcolm’s eyes ticked over towards Hazel’s and suddenly, you felt her arms wrap around you.  She was trembling, her tears wetting your shoulder.  

“Mal?” You say shakily.

“I love you.  Both of you,” he smiled, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“I’ll be seeing you,” Hazel whispered.

Dragging his eyes back to yours, he pressed his fingers tight against the side of your neck.  You scrambled to keep them there as they began to slip.  And as his eyes drifted closed, his lips parting in a final breath, you felt the words tear from your throat.

“I love you. I love you so much.” Bending forward you press your forehead to his chest. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Hazel held you tight, rocking with you as the tears streamed down both your cheeks.  The body beneath you was still. Broken.  He was gone.

“Milo,” she whispered. “We have to put him through the gate.”

“What?” You looked up at her, not comprehending her words.

“He belongs to the Night Market,” she said patiently, her face twisted in grief.  “He’ll become a restless spirit, and he will hate that.  If we push him through a gate, the Night Market will call him home.  Spirits can’t come through the doors, Milo. The Market will bring him back.”

Anger filled you then, something irrational and full of despair. “No. I’m not shoving his body through a fucking door. We can do something. We can—”

“This is what we can do,” she said. “This is what we have to do.”  Scrambling to your side, she takes your face between her palms, her eyes broken.  “He’ll come back to us.  He will. But we have to do it before the door closes.  Please,” she begged. “Please.  I can’t lose him either.”

One heart-wrenching cry ripped from your chest as you leaned forward, one hand still on Malcolm, the other wrapping around her.  You held Hazel tightly to you, feeling her shaking against you, clinging to you desperately.  Then, slowly, you stood.  

You don’t know how the two of you did it, weak and bleeding as you were. But you got his body to the door.  He looked at peace. Like he was doing nothing more than sleeping.  You didn’t want to do this. You didn’t want to believe this.  You wanted to hold him until he opened his eyes again, his lips curling into that knowing smile.

“We have to,” Hazel whispered.

You looked at her.  He was the last of her family.  The last of everything. She was alone now. Just like you.  But she held belief that this would help. That this would give him back.  And it would keep him from becoming one of the vengeful ghosts that wandered the market.  It had been a fear of his since being a child.  Selfishly, you wanted to keep him.  But you knew that if you did that, he would never forgive you.

“I’ll do it,” you said.  You weren’t going to make her give the final push.  She had already done the hard part and made the decision.

Hazel nodded, leaning forward to give Malcolm a kiss.  Her lips pressed softly to his forehead, her fingers brushing against his brows. “I’ll see you soon,” she whispered.

When she backed away, you looked at him.  You remembered him as a child. The way he stared at you, some dirty street kid, terrified of the world around you.  He never gave you quarter. Yelled at you for every single mistake. Demanded you be better. Made you be better.

Then one day he kissed you.  You were young and stupid and didn’t know how to kiss him back, your hands fumbling at his sides.  But he had held you until you figured it out, showing you that he loved your uncertainty and the softness you were never allowed to show.  Malcolm Albright had loved you more than you had ever known.  He was the only reason you stood there today.

Brushing the hair from his eyes, you felt a part of you die. It would go through the gate with him. You knew he would not be returning.  You didn’t have the belief that they did. Hope had never been a friend of yours.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered to him.  Leaning forward, you press your lips to his, feeling them cold and unresponsive.  Shaking, you linger, trying to memorize the way he smelled, the feel of him beneath your palms. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, you pushed him through.

You didn’t watch his body go, nor did you watch the gate close.  You held Hazel instead, holding her tight as she cried against you, your own tears mingling with her own.  You stayed there that night, long after the tears had dried, surrounded by destruction and pain.  You sat with Hazel until both your legs went numb and neither of you knew what to do.  

Outside, down a burnt alley, through a market that continued to thrive, the lanterns dimmed.  Just for a moment, they dipped out, plunging the market into black and letting only the starry skylight the way.  They shuddered as the world began to shift, and they mourned their Gatekeeper. 

And somewhere, in the very very dark, a key was set into a cool palm, just below the sway of a paper lantern.

Patreon || Ko-fi || Demo || Discord

[xisadorapurlowx]

[reidiot]

don't fucking interrupt me when i'm reading my x reader fics it's rude

[angelasscribbles]

The Feral Writer lol

Writers Corner

[the-bar-sinister]

Look, I'm going to be honest, I don't care whether people feeding other fans' fanfiction into AI is "legal" or "illegal".

What it is, is rude, entitled, and disrespectful of your fellow fans.

[catfayssoux]

[makingqueerhistory]

I’m actually serious about this, if at all possible, right now is a very good time to request queer books from your local library. Whether they get them or not is not in your control, but it is so important to show that there is a desire for queer books. I will also say getting more queer books in libraries and supporting queer authors are pretty fantastic byproducts of any action.

This isn’t something everyone can do, but please do see if you are one of the people who has the privilege to engage in this form of activism, and if you are, leverage that privilege for all you’re worth.

For anyone who can’t think of a queer book to request, here is a little list of some queer books that I think are underrated and might not be in circulation even at larger libraries:

Refusing Compulsory Sexuality: A Black Asexual Lens on Our Sex-Obsessed Culture by Sherronda J. Brown

Silver Under Nightfall by Rin Chupeco     

Harvard's Secret Court: The Savage 1920 Purge of Campus Homosexuals by William Wright    

The Perks of Loving a Wallflower by Erica Ridley   

God Themselves by Jae Nichelle

IRL by Tommy Pico        

The Pink Line: Journeys Across the World's Queer Frontiers by Mark Gevisser

Passing Strange by Ellen Klages             

The New Queer Conscience by Adam Eli

Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars: A Dangerous Trans Girl's Confabulous Memoir by Kai Cheng Thom          

Queering the Tarot by Cassandra Snow              

Wash Day Diaries by Jamila Rowser

Queer Magic: Lgbt+ Spirituality and Culture from Around the World by Tomás Prower            

Before We Were Trans: A New History of Gender by Kit Heyam   

Beyond the Pale by Elana Dykewomon 

Hi Honey, I'm Homo! by Matt Baume      

The Deep by Rivers Solomon

Homie: Poems by Danez Smith

The Secret Life of Church Ladies by Deesha Philyaw  

The Companion by E.E. Ottoman 

Kapaemahu by Dean Hamer, Joe Wilson, Hinaleimoana Wong-Kalu

Sacrament of Bodies by Romeo Oriogun     

Witching Moon by Poppy Woods 

Tell Me I'm Worthless by Alison Rumfitt    

Dead Collections by Isaac Fellman    

Disintegrate/Dissociate by Arielle Twist           

Dear Senthuran: A Black Spirit Memoir by Akwaeke Emezi             

Peaches and Honey by Imogen Markwell-Tweed      

Nepantla: An Anthology Dedicated to Queer Poets of Color by Christopher Soto

[sanguineships]

[night-market-if]

Community IF

We are starting a community based IF over on Patreon, much in the same vein as Paper Lanterns. Come join us on the Baron tier where I will post a 2 to 4 pages story once a week with choices at the end of each part. You can then vote to decide where we go next. The story itself has not been decided. If you have an idea you would like to put forward, please let me know, but I will be waiting a few days for new sign-ups and then we will vote on the results together. The story could be a prequel to The Night Market but with Gabriel as your MC. It could be about the Barons. Or it could be about something else entirely. Join the tier to get your say in. I look forward to crafting another story with all of you. :)

🪷✨🪷✨ If you want to support me 🪷 ✨🪷✨

        Demo 🌿 Patreon 🌿 Ko-fi

[xisadorapurlowx]

[thearchmanofgreenfield]

Me when I hit that Creative high at 1.00 am in the morning and come up with the greatest story ever conceived...

And then... by the time I wake up... I've FORGOTTEN ALL OF IT.

[angelasscribbles]

Writer Issues

Writers Corner for more writing memes.

[strawberrywinter4]

The fact people write fics that could very well be award winning novels is insane.

Like—they write this for FREE. FOR FREE.

You beautiful bastards, I love you.

[slayingfiction]

Words to use instead of ‘said’

**Using the word ‘said’ is absolutely not a bad choice, and in fact, you will want to use it for at least 40% of all your dialogue tags. Using other words can be great, especially for description and showing emotion, but used in excess can take away or distract from the story.

Neutral: acknowledged, added, affirmed, agreed, announced, answered, appealed, articulated, attested, began, bemused, boasted, called, chimed in, claimed, clarified, commented, conceded, confided, confirmed, contended, continued, corrected, decided, declared, deflected, demurred, disclosed, disputed, emphasized, explained, expressed, finished, gloated, greeted, hinted, imitated, imparted, implied, informed, interjected, insinuated, insisted, instructed, lectured, maintained, mouthed, mused, noted, observed, offered, put forth, reassured, recited, remarked, repeated, requested, replied, revealed, shared, spoke up, stated, suggested, uttered, voiced, volunteered, vowed, went on

Persuasive: advised, appealed, asserted, assured, begged, cajoled, claimed, convinced, directed, encouraged, implored, insisted, pleaded, pressed, probed, prodded, prompted, stressed, suggested, urged

Continuously: babbled, chattered, jabbered, rambled, rattled on

Quietly: admitted, breathed, confessed, croaked, crooned, grumbled, hissed, mumbled, murmured, muttered, purred, sighed, whispered

Loudly: bellowed, blurted, boomed, cried, hollered, howled, piped, roared, screamed, screeched, shouted, shrieked, squawked, thundered, wailed, yelled, yelped

Happily/Lovingly: admired, beamed, cackled, cheered, chirped, comforted, consoled, cooed, empathized, flirted, gushed, hummed, invited, praised, proclaimed, professed, reassured, soothed, squealed, whooped

Humour: bantered, chuckled, giggled, guffawed, jested, joked, joshed

Sad: bawled, begged, bemoaned, blubbered, grieved, lamented, mewled, mourned, pleaded, sniffled, sniveled, sobbed, wailed, wept, whimpered

Frustrated: argued, bickered, chastised, complained, exasperated, groaned, huffed, protested, whinged

Anger: accused, bristled, criticized, condemned, cursed, demanded, denounced, erupted, fumed, growled, lied, nagged, ordered, provoked, raged, ranted remonstrated, retorted, scoffed, scolded, scowled, seethed, shot, snapped, snarled, sneered, spat, stormed, swore, taunted, threatened, warned

Disgust: cringed, gagged, groused, griped, grunted, mocked, rasped, sniffed, snorted

Fear: cautioned, faltered, fretted, gasped, quaked, quavered, shuddered, stammered, stuttered, trembled, warned, whimpered, whined

Excited: beamed, cheered, cried out, crowed, exclaimed, gushed, rejoiced, sang, trumpeted

Surprised: blurted, exclaimed, gasped, marveled, sputtered, yelped

Provoked: bragged, dared, gibed, goaded, insulted, jeered, lied, mimicked, nagged, pestered, provoked, quipped, ribbed, ridiculed, sassed, teased

Uncertainty/Questionned: asked, challenged, coaxed, concluded, countered, debated, doubted, entreated, guessed, hesitated, hinted, implored, inquired, objected, persuaded, petitioned, pleaded, pondered, pressed, probed, proposed, queried, questioned, quizzed, reasoned, reiterated, reported, requested, speculated, supposed, surmised, testified, theorized, verified, wondered

This is by no means a full list, but should be more than enough to get you started!

Any more words you favor? Add them in the comments!

Happy Writing :)

[blue-eyed-author]

Dear fellow writers,

‘Said’ is beautiful. Please use it more. It isn’t anything to be feared of hated. It’s not boring or overused. It makes all the other dialogue tags more special when they’re used on occasion.

‘Said’ makes your writing less cluttered. It can be a simple way of reminding the reader who is talking without bombarding them with synonyms.

“Use it along with action to make it more interesting,” she said, picking up her pencil.

He smirked, and said, “Or with expressions and body language.”

“Or,” she said, “just as a quick reminder of who is talking.”

“And if you know who is talking, a dialogue isn’t always necessary.”

Of course you can use other dialogue tags, but please don’t exclude ‘said’. It’s heartbroken from being ignored.

‘Said’ is beautiful.