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laurasimonsdaughter · 2 years

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A wild (mother) goose chase for a lost fairy tale

In august 2020 Forbes published an article about how writer and illustrator Pete Jordi Wood had uncovered a “charming gay fairytale” that “has been lost for 200 years”. In particular a story where a sailor wins the hand in marriage of a handsome prince. Wood is quoted as calling it an “unbelievably and fabulously gay” plot, and: “an ancient tale with a positive portrayal, of a guy who can be read as gay or asexual, but certainly queer”.

Obviously I was wild to read it, but sadly Wood’s adaptation of the fairy tale had been published as a limited edition children’s book and virtual exhibition that I could not access. Even more disheartening, the folklore sources were not named on his website, and his research was only available in a limited edition essay collection and zine that I would have to buy.

To make matters worse, the Forbes article said that Wood had translated variations of the story from Danish, German and Frisian. That was absolutely too close to home for me not to go looking for it! Except I had very little to go on, because again, Forbes didn’t give sources.

The article said only this:

Wood called the story “The Dog And The Sailor”

The protagonist is an adventurous sailor with an overprotective mother who defeats a beautiful evil witch and wins the hand in marriage of a handsome prince.

Wood found it in the Stith Thompson’s six-volume Motif-Index of Folk-Literature under a tale type called “The Dog and the Sea” which existed in multiple languages (Danish, German, Frisian and others), but not in English.

It was first written down in the 1800’s.

I could find only one mention online with more information, on the Simmons University website:

“Originally a Danish folktale documented by the folklorists Nikolaj Christensen and Jens Kamp, this story has been translated into English for the first time by Pete Jordi Wood.”

The consequence of all this is that I have been hunting for this fairy tale for a very long time and with the help of two amazing Danish followers and a lot of frantic internet searches, I’m finally convinced that I have! So, if you want to follow me into my obsession, you can find it all under the readmore.

Of course the first thing I did was try to find this tale type “The Dog and the Sea” in the Stith Thompson Motif-Index, but it was a dead end. I couldn’t find any fairy tale called “The Dog and the Sea” or “The Dog and the Sailor” anywhere. What I was able to find was a podcast called “There’s a Story for That” that gave a recap and review of Wood’s “The Dog and the Sailor”. So now at least I knew the full outline of the story:

A beautiful, evil witch curses a faraway tropical kingdom, charming everyone into submission, transforming them into animals and sinking the kingdom to the bottom of the ocean.

An English boy called Ruan wants to become a sailor and his protective mother eventually lets him go after he fails at being a tailor.

She gives him her life savings, a medical balm and a dagger.

Ruan joins a sailing crew, shipwrecks in a storm and washes up on the shores of France.

When his money runs out he gets so desperate that he contemplates walking into the sea, but at that moment a curly haired dog emerges from the waves and offers to help him. He fills Ruan’s purse with money and instructs him to pay double for everything he buys.

When he has spent all the money Ruan returns to the dog, gets a thousand gold pieces and is instructed to get a ship and a crew.

They sail off, but the sea witch sends a storm dragon to sink them. The dog defeats the dragon while the crew hides below deck.

They find the dog grievously wounded, but Ruan heals him with his mother’s balm.

The dog tells Ruan to go out in a row boat and jump into the sea, much to the terror of the crew.

Ruan sinks to the sunken kingdom unharmed and the dog leads Ruan to the town, where a beautiful woman (the witch) comes to meet him.

She promises him half of her kingdom if he’ll be her spouse. Ruan refuses and stabs her to death with the dagger. She explodes into dust, leaving behind only a belt with silver keys.

Ruan enters the castle and the dog is already inside to lead him to the dungeon, where they find a caged lion.

The dog instructs Ruan to cut off his head and tail and swap their places. This turns the lion into an old man, the king.

The king praises Ruan for being the only person who managed to resist the witch. All the animals in the castle turn human, including the dog, who is the king’s son.

The king suggests Ruan and his son rule the kingdom together. Ruan wants to accept, but feels he has to return to his mother. So the king gives him a ship full of gold instead. By then the kingdom has risen to the surface again.

Ruan sails back to his mother, who praises him, but tells him to go back to marry his prince.

He returns and marries the handsome prince.

The next step was looking at the mentioned authors, I was lucky enough to come across a book by Stephen Badman, who had translated a large selection of the fairy tales Jens Kamp published in 1879 and 1891 and published them in 2016 under the title “Folk and Fairy Tales from Denmark – Stories collected by Jens Kamp”. I couldn’t be sure that the right story was in there, but it was! The book included a story called David Cotterson (David Husmandssøn), which was clearly Wood’s source, but did have notable differences:

The witch and the kingdom are never mentioned in the beginning.

The hero is called David, his nationality is not given, he has two parents and no parting gifts are mentioned.

He shipwrecks and washes up on the coast of England.

The helpful dog is described as “large, black and shaggy”.

The dog gives David first five hundred ducats, then a thousand ducats, and the third time two thousand ducats and the assignment to have a ship built.

Again the crew hides from a storm and the dog gets injured, but the dog gives David a flask of healing oil to cure him with. It is never said that the witch causes the storm.

The dog warns David explicitly that he will meet a beautiful woman near a golden castle, who would attempt to seduce him, but that if he gives her as much as a kiss all will be lost.

He gives David a sword an instructs him to cut her down, take her keys, and go to the castle where he will be waiting for him.

As soon as he kills the woman he hears his crew shout, because suddenly the land has risen to the surface again.

Only now it is revealed that the woman was an evil witch who had sent the land to the bottom of the sea.

Once transformed back into humans, the dog and lion explain that the evil witch had been the king’s second wife.

The king offers David half the kingdom as a reward, but David wants to go home, so they fill his ship with treasure instead.

David says goodbye to the prince and the king, sails home to England, sells his ship, shares the riches with his crew, returns to his overjoyed parents and settles down with them to live a long, happy life.

I personally really enjoy this folktale. It’s fun and quite unusual. I’ve posted a more complete summary here for extra context. Also, Badman’s translations are very pleasant to read, I really recommend buying this book. Now I’ve read his source, I’m inclined to agree with one part of Wood’s claims, that you could read it as asexual. It’s pretty rare to find a fairy tale like this that doesn’t end in a wedding. But the fact that this Danish tale doesn’t end in a marriage, unlike Wood’s adaptation, does rather dampen the “lost gay fairy tale” claim.

But there are other versions of this story! I thought it might possible that one of the stories might have ended with “rule side by side with my son”, which really would be very easy to read as a “gay marriage without calling it a marriage”. So, I wanted to see if Nikolaj Christensen had also collected a variant. Sadly, Christensen’s work is even more obscure than Kamp’s outside Scandinavia. Again, Stephen Badman has translated some of them, but I had no idea what the folktale would be called and I couldn’t exactly justify buying several books just in the hope that it would be in there.

As far as I could tell, there had been only one complete collection of Christensen’s work: Folkeeventyr fra Kær herred (Folk tales from Kær Herred), by Nikolaj Christensen, published by Laurits Bødker with Akademisk forlag; København (1963-67). The index is available online and it seemed to me that “Matrosen og kongen” (The sailor and the king) or “Et sømandsæventyr” (A sailor tale) had definite potential to be the story I was looking for.

So, I decided to ask my Tumblr dash for Danish help. And let me tell you, the Danes delivered. @violetdesolation messaged me that they had found the book in their university library and kindly offered to send me some scans. They found both “Matrosen og kongen” and “Et sømandsæventyr” for me, but noticed that the book they got didn’t include all the folktales in the index I found. We both looked for a dog that turned into a prince, but found nothing.

But by then a second helpful Dane had gotten their hands on the book and this time it was the complete version! They kindly offered to skim the whole thing for me and just to be sure I gave a whole list of story elements to look out for. And that is how we uncovered that “Et sømandsæventyr” (A sailor tale) was actually the story I was looking for! Only it was just different enough from “David Husmandssøn” that I hadn’t noticed! In this version the protagonist was Dutch instead of English and in the end it never even clearly says that the dog turns into a prince! But it was definitely a variant of the same story. It has many similarities with Kemp’s version, but a few key differences:

The protagonist is called Johan, only his father is mentioned, and they are said to be Dutch.

He shipwrecks and washes up in France, not England.

Johan actually tries to drown himself.

The talking dog is specifically said to be a poodle.

There are a lot of details missing, like the description of the storm that injures the dog or the specific method to transform the lion back into a human.

The witch is described merely as “beautiful” and while she does suggest marriage to Johan it is never said that no one else could resist her or that many have tried.

While the dog does say he is a transformed prince, the story never states that he becomes human again (hence why Violetdesolation and I didn’t find the story on first glance).

This king does not speak and this witch is not revealed to be his second wife.

As a reward Johan may choose between becoming a minister in the saved kingdom’s government or to leave with as much gold as he can carry, he chooses the gold and goes home, but his father is not mentioned again.

If you want to read the full story, you can! You can find the scans of the Danish text that the kind @violetdesolation provided here, and a full English translation can be found here, courtesy of the second Danish folklore sleuth, who preferred to stay anonymous. I also want to give a big shout-out to @ymfingsteadilyon who also offered to get the book from their library.

So now I had confirmation that this was indeed a Danish fairy tale first recorded in the 1800’s, that, while sadly lacking a gay wedding, did definitely invite being read through a queer lens. However, the article had claimed there was also a German and a Frisian version. Which probably meant there was also a Dutch version and I was determined to find it (and see if it ended in marriage).

It was at this point that I finally finally found the tale type with both “dog” and “sea” in it. The correct name wasn’t “The Dog and the Sea”, it was “The Dog in the Sea”, ATU type 540. To my intense frustration the most complete online ATU index had no examples in that category whatsoever, but at least I knew it existed.

And now I knew the correct name for the tale type, I found this. A German fairy tale encyclopedia from 1990 (the online version was behind a paywall, but I managed to find the book: Enzyklopädie des Märchens, Walter de Gruyter & Co, 1988/1990, ISBN 978-3-11-011763-9) that had a whole entry on this tale type including sources. My German was just good enough to understand these things:

This really was the correct tale type for both Christensen’s and Kamp’s stories and a summary was indeed given in Aarne and Thomson’s folklore classifications.

They presumed that Christensen’s version from 1855 was the oldest.

There were also Swedish and Finnish versions, but these deviated rather a lot from the Danish ones.

There was possibly also a Russian version that might fit this type.

There was also a Dutch version from a publication from 1900/1901.

So, what was this Dutch version they wrote of? The source given was “Huizenga-Onnekes, E. J.: Groninger volksvertellingen 1. Groningen 21958, 60-64; Vk. Tijdschrift voor nederlandsche folklore 13 (1900/1901) 200-202;”, but luckily I didn’t need to go looking for it. Because with the correct tale type I could find it in the Dutch folktale database.

And while it is correct that this story was first published in Dutch the 1900’s, the written source it was based on is from 1804. Which makes the Dutch version the oldest traceable source of this piece of oral folklore! Possibly explaining why Christensen’s version has a Dutch protagonist and why Kamp’s version is the most elaborate, being the most recent one. Because the Dutch version is far shorter and far less interesting:

The protagonist is a skipper who wrecks his ship and washes ashore in great misery.

A black dog comes up to him and offers help, which the skipper accepts despite fearing the dog is the devil.

When the ship is built the dog stays with the skipper so he can pay for everything, including a crew and provisions.

As they sail the dog keeps warning when there is to be a storm. First one that lasts half a day, then three days, then a week.

At last they reach a shore (not underwater) with a golden castle and the dog says it is his father’s castle.

The dog instructs the skipper to spend three nights in the castle and to be silent no matter how bad it gets.

The castle turns out to be haunted and the skipper is horribly tormented, but after the three nights the dog takes the skipper to a room with a large sword and instructs him to behead him.

Doing so turns the dog into a human, who explains that his father had cursed him to become a spectre of a dog.

He rewards the skipper with enough money to last him a lifetime and the skipper leaves with his riches.

This version was written down by 11 year-old Gerrit Arend Arends, who kept a journal around 1804 in which he recorded the stories that seamstress Trijntje “Soldaats” Wijbrands told him. The journal was discovered by his great-great-granddaughter E.J.Huizenga-Onnekes, who eventually published all 17 folktales in: Groninger Volksvertellingen I: Het Boek van Trijntje Soldaats (1928).

The story about the sailor and the enchanted dog is the 15th story in the collection and while it has no name there, I have seen later versions of it called “De dankbare hond” (The grateful dog) and “De hond die geen hond was” (The dog that wasn’t a dog).

So there we are! With a lot of kind help from unexpected places, my honour as a Dutch hobby folklorist is restored. Sadly we were not rewarded with a canon gay wedding from 19th century folklore, but a very good story nonetheless, that is indeed very inviting to read through a queer lens, and a rather triumphant end to a what started as a very wild goose chase.

EDIT: Since writing this, this tale type was added to Wikipedia, with additional interesting references! I wish I had looked for it there again between the beginning and the end of my search, because this took me so long it was published in between.

#the dog and the sailor #another one for laure goes off the deep end #and down the rabbit hole #danish folklore #danish fairy tale #dutch folklore #thanks to everyone who helped!#and the friends who had to hear me yell about this :P #and my sister for the editing of this monster post <3

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phantomqueen · 3 years

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Meme time: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 writers! uhhh i tag.....all of you

tagged by @ufohnoparty thanks!!

most of these are from oc fics (ok a LOT of it is just random stuff for my star wars dnd oc) or purely original stuff. none of them are finished or posted anywhere lmao. under the cut to keep it short

1. It should really say something about my job commitment that I still showed up for my shift after being attacked by the local cemetery. [retail vampire novella lmfao 😖]

2. Officially, they didn’t exist. [sw au for my ocs ana lucia, paige & nix]

3. Vesik has never been to Naboo, but using what he knows of it, he imagines a little house by the shore of some body of water. [um some introspective vesik thing that i forgot where i was going with]

4. Here is a brief list of things in the galaxy that remain constant: [ANOTHER introspective vesik thing i forgot where i was going with]

5. “Nothing personal,” Preskai says in her pre-recorded hologram. [au where vesik did not join the rebellion, also about my other sw oc antith]

6. I was the last one to arrive, still wiping blood from my mouth as I descended into the ritual chamber. [nano project from last year; vampire apocalypse club]

7. I only ever went to parties for free booze and that night was no different. [gay college vampire romcom that got me back into writing last year LMFAO]

8. Micah’s dragon was still a baby, about the same size and temperament as a dog—if the dog had wings, horns, and shimmering blue scales. [genuinely forgot what this was]

9. The last time Vesik sees his home, it’s burning to the ground. [say it with me...introspective vesik thing that i forgot blah blah blah]

10. Dear X, I’ve taken the liberty of hiding your name in case someone finds this. [ok THIS ONE i finished & adapted into a zine available here! letters b/w a fairy & her gf]

11. They make short work of moving in. [vesik’s thots on moving in w his bf]

12. “Okay,” Kaamna calls, “hold on—” [vesik backstory stuff]

13. Distantly, the school bell rang, and students flooded out the front door. [high school au thing]

14. Vesik kisses a boy for the first time when he’s eighteen. [vesik + boyfriends]

15. Vesik wakes badly, his hearts racing and his body ready to find the nearest exit. [vesik + post-death star mission]

16. These beds in Rebel Base weren’t made for two people, but they make it work. [vesik + his current bf. theres so many of these dont @ me]

17. The memorial is as bright and imposing as Khessa was, a monolith towering over the palace courtyard. [oh my god in late 2019 i tried writing a dragon prince janaya fic lmfaooo]

18. We lost our cities, but sometimes you’ll pass by their bones. [i tried & then abandoned writing a post-apocalyptic type thing. there’s some good parts in this but i didn’t really know where i was going with it]

19. The girl finds the god’s head drifting down the river. [sw au for my oc the witch]

20. LUX: Oh, is this thing on? How do I — [okay i also had a tma oc for like 5 minutes and tried writing a statement for them]

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ssminibang · 5 years

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SSREVMB 2019 Masterpost

Hello everyone!!!

We want to thank everyone who took part in the 2019 Senshi & Shitennou Reverse Mini Bang! We had an incredible year and we are so happy with the final results! Hopefully you all had fun too!

Under the read more you will have beautiful art and amazing fics. We invite everyone to leave a review and support the talented people who took part this year!

However we have some awesome news! This year we will have a zine where you will able to view all the wonderful art created this year. If everything goes as planned, it will be done by the end of November, so keep an eye for the updates!

Now, here is the amazing work! Please enjoy!!!!

A Curious Specimen by Lizlee

Fic by Cluckster

Berenice by versailles-fairytale

Fic written by serpentinred

Curious Mermaid by chibiranmaruchan

Fic written by AdriannaSharp

Devour by smokingbomber

Fic written by Starling_Sinclair

Drowned Road to Legend by smokingbomber

Fic written by Beej88

Falling into the Cold Sea by teamvanessacloud

Fic written by Kazekaitou

Far From Shore by Covenmouse

Fic written by ellorgast

Going Down by i1976blunotte

Fic written by Sororityprincess

Homecoming by i1976blunotte

Fic written by caffeineivore

It's too small by smokingbomber

Fic written by Elmund9

Jadeite and The Dragon by einahpets

Fic written by FadesInTheSun

Long Distance by smokingbomber

Fic written by Ggunsailor

Low tide by elianthos

Fic written by apsaraqueen

Magari by elianthos

Fic written by caffeineivore

Part-Time Mermaid by Passionrice

Fic written by NelwynP

Queen of the Sea by SCGdoeswhat

Fic written by ElvisVF101

Rescue by Covenmouse

Fic written by warriorofice

Ship Happens by smokingbomber

Fic written by caffeineivore

The Night by JupiterLor

Fic written by LadyDGn

The Rocks on the beach by mochibuni

Fic written by chuplayswithfire

The sea god by SCGdoeswhat

Fic written by CopperCrane2

The Sultan and the Princess by Lyrhia

Fic written by AdriannaSharp

They Keep Coming With The Tide by elianthos

Fic written by CopperCrane2

Troubled Water by FadesInTheSun and smokingbomber

Fic written by kanadka

Until the End of Time by Artimas

Fic written by Ascella_Star

Until the Sun Rises: The Path to Valhalla by Artimas

Fic written by VenusUnchained

Venus From Her Shell by mochibuni

Fic written by Vchanny

You're 'piking' my curiosity by Lyrhia

Fic written by LovelyLytton

And here is the direct link to our collection: AO3

Please enjoy!!

#sailor moon #senshi x shitennou #sailor senshi #shitennou #inner senshi #sailor moon fanart #ssrevmb19 #tumblr formatting is the WORST #bang art

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gremlinquisitor · 5 years

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2019 Year in Review!

Thank you so much to @thejeeperswife for the tag! Gonna say right up front that I’m not tagging anyone, but if you want to do this, you definitely should!!

If you’d asked me without my looking, I’d have said I only did one thing this year. It really felt like it, at least. Like all I did this year was work on Recreate His Worldly Glory.

Apparently that’s not true, though! Apparently I posted a whole 15 fics over the course of 2019, with at least another 5 or 6 WIPs in the wings. 124,660 words total posted to AO3 is not bad at all, if I may say so myself. As for total written this year, I have no idea. I started keeping track in a google sheet at @barbex‘s excellent suggestion, but that fell apart somewhere after the summer at around 104k.

What I Wrote

Recreate His Worldly Glory: 76112 words so far, 13/36 chapters posted. Rated T, Sebastian/Hawke. Starts after the end of DA2 and follows Sebastian and the gang to Starkhaven. Chaste Sebastian. Happy ending.

If I Were a Wise Man, I Would Know My Part: 29357 words, 11/11 chapters posted. Rated E. ALL THE TROPES! Fake relationship, snowed in, hypothermia that leads to cuddling for warmth. Happy ending.

The Legend of Sleepy Crestwood: 2865 words, Rated T, Alistair/Cullen, for a Halloween fanwork exchange. Based on the legend of Sleepy Hollow, with Alistair as hapless Ichabod.

The World Has No Right to My Heart: 1217 words, Rated G. Cassandra seeks Hawke out while she’s in Skyhold, curious about details of the Tale of the Champion.

Plenty of Time: 1170 words, Rated G, Sebastian/Hawke. Being Prince is hard sometimes; Hawke makes it easier.

Gotta Get a Letter to You: 2016 words, Rated G, Nikhael Trevelyan/Ser Morris. Set later than Fragile and Fleeting, Ser Simon comes to find Nikhael when he's tending to the Circle's messenger birds. (This one is sad.)

Fragile and Fleeting: 1039 words, Rated G, Nikhael Trevelyan/Ser Morris. In which Nikhael falls in more ways than one.

Give Us More Time: 1299 words, Rated G, Cassandra/f!Inquisitor. After the Inquisition's narrow escape at Haven, the Herald remains in a coma. Cassandra goes to her tent to get some things off her chest.

Destiny in Your Hands: 2029 words, Rated G, Bellial Adaar/Blackwall. Bellial doesn’t take the revelation about Thom Ranier very well.

Are You Jealous?: 1793 words, Rated T, Alistair/Cullen. Alistair finds his way to Cullen's office in Skyhold. Cullen shouldn't care that Alistair's been spending time with Hawke, but he does, maybe more than he cares to admit.

Turned to Stone: 1706 words, Rated G, Sebastian/Fenris. A Beauty and the Beast AU, where Fenris is cursed by a Tevinter magister to turn to stone if he can not love and be loved in return.

Aftermath: 1033 words, Rated G, Sulahnassan Lavellan/Cullen. Cullen has a bit of a breakdown at the war table. Sulahn comes to find him afterwards.

Who Will Watch the Watchers?: 1296 words, Rated G, Eorryn Cousland/Alistair. In which word reaches the Warden-Commander about the siege at Adamant, and those who were lost. (This one is sad.)

How to Loot a Dragon: 960 words, Rated G, Gen. A recounting of the aftermath of the fight with the dragon in the Bone Pit.

**The Tale of Corin and Neriah: 3445 words, Rated T, Corin/Neriah. A telling of he end of the Second Blight, written for In Peace, Vigilence zine (link is to pre-order promo post, not yet posted anywhere.)

Not Dragon Age:

Taken: 768 words, Rated G, EraserMight. “I don’t understand you. You always say you’re taken, but we both know you have no boyfriend.” Revelations in the recovery ward.

Year-End Questions

Number of Smut Scenes? One posted, with at least three more in WIPs. I am terribly shy about smut, but I like having it in a story if I think it serves a purpose, and it will in these, if I ever post them.

New Things I Tried This Year? Finishing and posting an enormous multi-chapter monster. Applying to a zine. Getting picked for a zine.

Favorite Thing I Wrote This Year? The Tale of Corin and Neriah is quite good, I really encourage everyone to get a copy of the zine, not just for that, but also for that. There are also some things in RHWG that I am very proud of and am looking forward to sharing.

Favorite Fic I Read This Year: I have read so much incredible fic this year. I don’t want to choose just one, so I’m gonna do a little rec list now.

A Love Long Lost by @sweetonsebastian. She writes Sebastian so wonderfully confident and secure in himself, and yet reserved when it comes to his past with Cullen, and the potential for them to start again. Cullen is wrecked, and she lets it show. This fic has incredible side characters, a beautiful use of language, so much lovely art, and just the happiest ending. I love it.

Lyrium Skin by @barbex. I devoured this in one sitting while I was getting tattooed this autumn, and my only regret is that I couldn’t type out comments on every chapter because I kept dropped my phone on my face trying to do it one-handed (my tattoo is on my other arm...) Her love for these characters and their stories is so clear, and I love the way she writes Fenris. Really looking forward to seeing where this goes.

The Far Shore by @aban-asaara. One of the last fics I started this year, but I love everything Asaara writes, and this is no exception. Fenris and Amabel Hawke are going to Rivain, but it’s never that easy. Amabel is a wonderful character, and again, Asaara’s love for her and for Fenris is clear in every sentence. Bright, vivid descriptions, word choice that I honestly envy sometimes because it’s just perfect. We’re only getting started, and I can’t wait to see what’s going to happen next.

A Chance Engagement by @hollyand-writes. I’ve never read Pride and Prejudice, so every turn this story takes is new for me. I can only imagine the layers it must have for someone who’s read the original. The lovely Miss Merrill and the handsome Sir Carver are such a pleasure to read. I save this one up and read several chapters at once when I can, so that I make it last longer. A glorious Regency treat with a wonderful cast picked from DAO and DA2 (including the Arishok! Dancing!!)

Sun-Touched by @lucyrne. WHY CAN’T WE ROMANCE VARRIC?! This fic is the perfect example of why we should be allowed to, or someone should, and if not my PC, then Bethany Hawke. Fake dating, trips to Orzammar, dancing and kisses and danger and intrigue. Lucy writes Varric so well that it makes my heart hurt when he’s sad, it’s so good and genuine and him, and the contrast with Bethany’s POV is remarkable. This fic also has a wonderful, sympathetic take on Bianca Davri that I hope people enjoy when they read it. It made me think about her a lot, which I appreciate in a story.

Goals for 2020

Try to write more shorter things and not just coast along posting RHWG and nothing else for the first half of the year. I would really like to spend more time putting Bellial and Blackwall’s story down on paper. It’s racy and volatile and not at all what I’m used to.

I also have a couple big WIPs that I’d like to see finished, including Concertmaster Baggins and my original novel.

I also hope to do a lot more reading. My “to be read” list is embarrassingly long.

#my fic #year end round up

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paperficwriter · 5 years

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Your Wings, My Heart

This is the fic I wrote for the @inakiri-zine zine, Love Big and Loud. And now it’s here for you to enjoy! About two big goofy dragons who get to meet someone else like them.

Cut is for length, not content!

Across the whole world, no one would ever say it was normal for a kingdom to be so accustomed to dragons, and yet that is certainly the case when it comes to the Kingdom of Eversummer. In fact, the Crown Prince Todoroki Shouto’s companion, a great black Air Folk called Inasa, is so well-known that no one even blinks when his giant war form crosses the sky like a huge bird, momentarily blotting out the sun. They never show an ounce of concern as he approaches children in the market on all fours in his demidragon shape, begging for apples or belly scratches. And indeed, some find him rather beguiling in his human shape, despite the black scales covering his arms and parts of his body, immense wings arched behind him, tail swinging.

Be that as it may, though...the citizens gather to watch for the arrival of Bakugou Katsuki, Blessed Son of the Southern Tribe, and his dragon, a red Stonekin called Kirishima. Their necks crane upward as the red dragon flies through the blue sky like a rock being skipped across a shore, belly dazzling with gemstones, one of the riches of the Bakugou kingdom. The wings are not as wide as Inasa’s, but they are powerful, creating a sound like a giant rug being struck for dusting. His exterior is more pebbly, and the villagers are still trying to point out all the difference between him and their dragon, until he finally disappears behind the wall of the castle into the royal courtyard.

When Bakugou jumps off his back, Kirishima is already there to bump his head into his stomach, an unmistakable smile on his snout. “Alright, you giant dumbass,” Bakugou hums, stroking under his chin. “Shrink down already, would you?”

He does, of course, but it doesn’t help the attacks of affection. Indeed, now he jumps to his chest and licks him all over his face. “Ugh! Don’t drool on my pelt!”

Kirishima climbs off and sits like an excited hound being spoken to, getting up only because Bakugou beckons him into the castle. Bakugou sneers as they are led to the “nesting room” Prince Todoroki has prepared. “It’s even more snooty than I expected,” he mutters as Kirishima joyfully rolls around in the pile of silk pillows and sheets, sniffing in the chest of meat slices that has been placed out for him.

Meanwhile, Prince Todoroki has his own hands full as Inasa reclines on his velveteen bed, wings open and draped as the prince strokes his head and horns. He, too, is in his demidragon form, humming and rumbling. “You must stay here, Inasa,” Todoroki says for what feels like the tenth time. “While the negotiations are going on, it needs to just be myself, my council and Bakugou. If anyone tries to argue that we used you or Kirishima for intimidation, the deals could fall through. Understand?”

Inasa blinks slowly and licks at Prince Todoroki’s fingers. Satisfied enough, he gets up and leaves.

Oh, he understands well enough. He’s not welcome at the negotiations. That makes sense. Humans take that kind of thing very seriously, after all. However...he didn’t say he couldn’t at least go see the new dragon, right? No. Shouto wouldn’t do that. Not when it’s the first new dragon Inasa has smelled in years…

Kirishima has already eaten all the meat when the scent hits him, coming from the other side of the large door to the room where he’s been left to await Bakugou’s return. And even if he didn’t smell the dragon—yes, definitely a dragon, a different breed of his own, but his kind! —he can hear the snuffling of his nose at the bottom jamb.

Inasa really just means to give the door a gentle push, but when he headbutts it, it cracks. Oops. Oh well. He’s certain Shouto will forgive him later.

When they take in each other’s presence for the first time, it’s with a very slow, circular gait. Inasa’s dark eyes open wide, staring at Kirishima up and down his shimmering red scales. Once it’s clear neither of them intend to assert dominance—Kirishima because he knows this is not his territory, Inasa because he’s confident in his position at the side of royalty—they move in.

Their noses press together, and their mouths split open in toothy grins.

What follows can only be described as a dance of greeting. The roundabout they had created is now closed, their sides and necks rubbing against one another. Inasa rumbles, using his wide cheek to delight in the texture of Kirishima’s bumpy hide, while Kirishima tries as much as he can to cover himself in Inasa’s expansive wing, like it’s a blanket for him to cover himself with.

Kirishima is smelling the scent gland near the wing muscle (so good! So manly!) when his snout hits something very... jingly. Butt going in the air, he stares, entranced, at the strings of coins around Inasa’s belly. There are other gold bracers and paint across his smooth black scales, and the way they reflect in the light of the lamps is hypnotizing. Inasa has his own difficulties focusing because as he paws at Kirishima’s side, trying to knock him over so he can nose at his belly (there are soft spots too! He wants to lie in the sun with him and absorb all his heat…) he comes across a scattered patch of bright gems set in the small groupings of longer scales, of rocklike ridges along his back. When he licks one, not only does Kirishima jump with a little rusty squeak, but he can also swear that he sees himself in the emerald’s many faces.

They are both convinced that the other is the most fantastic dragon they have ever seen in all their many years of life.

When nuzzling becomes wrestling (as dragons are inclined to do with new friends) they both freeze when they hear the approach of the prince’s guards to investigate. Inasa is the first to rise, and with a flexing of his muscles, he shrinks in and grows taller, to his human form. “C’mon, you too,” he whispers. “It’s quieter this way! We can go to my room.”

With only a small amount of hesitation, Kirishima shifts as well, and immediately He can’t believe how much shorter he is than Inasa, and although his brilliant red hair does make him stand out, his horns don’t have nearly the height or sharpness to them. And Inasa’s muscles...gods… But even as he stares, dumbfounded at the muscular beauty that is Inasa, he feels the dark hands of the other dragon touch his face: his cheekbones, the corners of his red eyes, the tips of his sharp teeth.

“Wow, you’re...gorgeous,” Inasa breathes.

“Me?” Even his voice can’t compare. “No, you are much more amazing to behold!”

Inasa is about to protest when they hear the guards speaking down the hall. “Quickly!”

Giggling like hatchlings, Inasa takes his hand and spirits him down the hall.

---

“How do you think humans stand to wear clothes all the time?” Kirishima asks as he pulls on the pants Inasa has offered him. “It feels like second skin! And it clings in all the wrong ways!”

Inasa laughs where he is reclining on his bed. “Shouto says it ain’t proper to walk around with all your bits hangin’ out.”

“Did he really say it like that?”

“It’s close enough.” Inasa grins and uses his tail to pull over some cushions so that Kirishima can sit across from him. When he does, their tails entwine, like they cannot possibly be pulled apart. “How long have ya been that barbarian guy’s familiar?”

“Bakugou? For most of his life. He’s my best friend.” He picks at the cuff of his pants. “What about you and the prince?”

Inasa considers. “Not as long but...a handful of years now. We are very close.” He drags his small fang (canine, humans call it) over his lip. “We both know it ain’t the same as being in the company of our kind.”

“And...have you been in the company of many dragons?” Kirishima asks it like it is a very casual thing to inquire about, like it wouldn’t hurt to know that other dragons were as interested in Inasa as he feels he is...

Shaking his head, Inasa reaches out to stroke the top of his hand until he turns it over. For several long moments, he just plays with his fingers. “Not in a very long time,” he whispers.

“Would you like to go out hunting with me?” Kirishima blurts, cheeks warming to red so quickly and fiercely that it’s like he still possesses his fire breath, and that now the flames are going to escape from the holes in his head.

“Kirishima, I’m surprised at ya. We just met.” By dragon standards, hunting in groups is rarely necessary, if not pointless. However, since it can be enlightening to learn from others, it’s treated as a bonding experience, or what humans consider a “date.”

“We don’t have to,” the Stonekin says, tail coiling and stroking Inasa’s. “We could just eat something your master has prepared…”

Inasa rises with a great gust of wind. Now Kirishima’s done it. It isn’t like he thought that Inasa would actually refuse to go hunting with him, but he can tell that now he’s made it a challenge. The large man pulls him to his feet. “Hunting, then. Sounds good.”

“Oh!” Kirishima yelps as he is lifted off his feet, one of Inasa’s large hands between his tail and wings, the other cradling his knees. Using a burst of air, Inasa opened his window and suddenly the blue sky welcomed them, wind rushing past their ears.

“Inasa!” Kirishima laughs. “I have my own wings!”

“I know that!” Inasa calls over the roar of their flight. “But then, I wouldn’t get t’ hold ya in my arms.”

Kirishima blushes and clings a little closer to hide his face against the side of Inasa’s neck.

As he flies them around, Inasa excitedly points out all his favorite places in the kingdom. His enthusiasm makes Kirishima’s stomach tighten, and for a second, he forgets that he’s being carried by a dragon he’s only just met, because this...it’s like he’s known him forever.

“And there’s the baker! He always gives me these muffins that he makes with bacon grease. Oh, and the blacksmith! I helped him melt down a super hard material not long ago. And—”

“Inasa?”

“Yeah?”

“Not that I don’t love the humans, but...I wanna go to the forest with you.” He blinks up at him under his tiny brows, his lashes. “Can we do that?”

Inasa’s heart goes a bit faster. When he dips his head, their horns glance off one another. “Yeah...yeah, ‘course. Let’s go.”

As Inasa clears the wall surrounding the kingdom and heads into the forest, neither of them see the eyes watching them from the cave den below, the predator taking wing and following them, a silent threat, out of sight, yet noting their every move.

---

“Inasa! Inasa, look!”

Struggling against the current and the huge fish wriggling in his arms, Kirishima holds his prize aloft in the river. His tail is wagging with glee, splashing water everywhere.

There’s no sign of Inasa.

“Inasa? Where-- ahh!”

He nearly loses his catch entirely when there is an explosion of water, a flapping of wings, a struggle, and there’s Inasa, demidragon chest puffed out proudly as he shows off the orange fish in his jaws, easily three times as big as Kirishima’s.

“No fair, Inasa!” Kirishima crows, trying not to sound anything but annoyed as they jump to the bank where Inasa shakes himself off like a dog. “If I knew we could shift I would have gone full size and gotten all the fish!”

Regardless, though, he wraps his arms around Inasa’s squarish head and squeezes. The vibrating chuffing from the dragon’s throat goes straight to his core, and Eijirou sighs softly. He looks into his dark eyes and smiles, every muscle in his body aching from running, flying and playing through the afternoon. “I haven’t had this much fun in...a long time,” he admits. “Inasa, I…”

A shriek, a flash of something dark, and Kirishima suddenly feels himself being slammed in the side and thrown to the ground. It’s the disadvantage of this guise, to be mostly human: overall dragons are just as vulnerable, most of their scales exchanged for soft flesh, their claws shortened, their fire now only breath, squeezed from Kirishima’s chest as he realizes he is being pinned to the grass by a massive paw, holding him tight where he can’t change back.

The paw of a gryphon.

It rears back to shriek from its beak, the sound cutting the air like a knife, making Kirishima’s ears feel like they will break and bleed at any moment. When it comes down at him, its pointed pink tongue visible, he closes his eyes, preparing for the worst of it.

And then feels something something soft strike his face.

When he dares to look again from where he is still trapped under the gryphon’s paw, Inasa and the gryphon are locked at a standstill just overhead, close enough that he can see the reflection of the rushing river in their eyes. Inasa has the beast’s throat in his jaws, trying not to be thrown by it, the gryphon struggling not to give him enough headway to tear further in. Feathers are falling, and bits of fur, and...scales.

One of the creature’s talons from its back foot is buried in Inasa’s side, holding him, and when it squeezes, the scales fall like bark from a tree, blood like sap soaking the grass in thick drops.

“Inasa! Don’t!”

An eye gazes at him, and he doesn’t have to speak. Kirishima knows what it’s saying.

I’m sorry.

The sound that erupts from Inasa’s throat is like metal tearing when he uses what strength he can muster to turn his body and rip through what he has in his teeth. In doing so, the talons tear, and it’s hard to tell whose blood belongs to who, because it is running freely, staining the green, rushing down the river when it hits the bank.

The gryphon slumps to the ground, and Kirishima is free.

When Kirishima can finally change into his warform and pick Inasa up carefully in his claws, he hopes to all gods and spirits that it isn’t too late.

---

The room is quiet. Bakugou sits on the edge of the bed where Inasa lies, stroking Kirishima’s head as he watches over him. It’s been three days, and the Air Folk still hasn’t awoken, but Kirishima has refused to be moved for food or his own rest, let alone to return home.

“If he’s as stubborn as that damn prince,” Bakugou tries to joke, rubbing at the spot behind one of Kirishima’s horns, “he’ll come out of it. Just wait.”

Kirishima gazes up at him for a moment, grateful. He knows Bakugou hates this place, hates to be surrounded by these types of humans, but he’s here for him. He won’t make him leave.

It’s the middle of the night when Kirishima feels the bed move. He jumps up when he sees that Inasa is slowly moving a bit, blinking in the dark, and Kirishima can’t help licking his nose, rubbing under his chin, chirping with delight.

Inasa groans. He rolls in the sheets, and in a few seconds, he is shifted again. Kirishima joins him, if just so he can get on the bed and pull him into his arms, tail and wings surrounding him.

“Kiri…”

“I can’t believe you did that,” he almost cries. “I can’t believe you saved me and almost got yourself killed.”

Inasa’s tail moves, coiling loosely around his leg. “M’sorry.” When he nuzzles the top of his head, their horns touch again. This time it feels like electricity being conducted through them, like the energy of emotion is travelling through. “Kirishima, c’mon, don’t cry.”

“I had only known you for a day, and it felt like I would have never healed again, if you’d died,” he says against his shoulder. When he pulls away, he’s pouting, trying not to seem like his heart aches as much as it truly does, the only balm being the relief that Inasa is alive. “I never would have gotten to ask you to be my mate.”

“Your mate?” Inasa grins, all the pain forgotten, his whole body wiggling against Kirishima’s. “Me? Really?”

“Yes, you!” Kirishima laughs when Inasa licks his cheek, pressing a palm to his heart and guiding Kirishima to do the same. Tentatively, he presses his neck to Inasa’s, their throats just softly touching, feeling one another’s breath, their pulses syncing. A true dragon’s kiss. Kirishima’s body vibrates with joy, and when they pull away, he gives his jaw a scrape with his teeth. “I take it you agree?”

Inasa smiles and removes one of his strings of coins, placing it around Kirishima’s neck. The tiny pieces of metal carry the warmth of his skin, which sinks into Kirishima’s flesh. “Of course.”

And that is how they find them in the morning: curled up together, gold and jewels, smiling blissfully, unaware of the humans and any other dragon living or dead, completely content with only one another’s company.

#my paperfics #boku no hero academia #inakiri #kirishima eijirou #yoarashi inasa #dragons #fantasy #woo!

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thank-you-for-releasing-me · 6 years

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Of course I had to do one of the beautiful Dream Weaver dragons (they are my fave) for the zine. This is Useni in Lofty Castle, spending time with the faeries. They are making him some flower crowns <3

#spyro #spyro the dragon #classic spyro #dragon shores zine #fanart #mod ziyari

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glimmeringalder · 6 years

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My Storenvy has received a huge update with more stuff in stock! This include the finally printed Underworld Nightmares Ch.1 (and some copies of Dragon Shores) please check it out!! http://glimmeringalder.storenvy.com/

#my store #merch #webcomics #dragon shores zine

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hauntedcosmospress · 7 years

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Kichi

An interview with one of our lovely book artists!

First, why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself as an artist? What do you mostly specialize in (ex: comics, illustrations, etc)? What are your favorite things to draw?

I work in concept design and illustration. I love painting environments (especially tropical) and creatures.

When did you first play Spyro the Dragon and what were your feelings about it at the time? How does it make you feel now?

It always felt special when I would find really hard to find orbs and I loved how satisfying solving the puzzles was. Definitely a comforting feeling to play spyro and I love looking at how much they did with early 3d graphics. Its still so full of color and personality after all these years. I still hate the crystal challenge against Hunter in Magma Cone.

Would you say Spyro has influenced your style today and if it has, how so?

Definitely in my color choices, and I still love painting dragons of course.

What are your favorites from the series? Such as level, character, song, and overall favorite game?

Love all the music from the games JUST YES. Favorite level is hard but I guess a tie between Shady Oasis and Idol Springs. (I definitely favor Ripto's Rage)

Other comments or thoughts about the zine or Spyro?

I adore Spyro and feel like its just a great game for anyone to play! Its perfect for all ages and is so fun. I hope people enjoy the zine and get that sweet nostalgia kick. Or that maybe it will inspire people who haven't played to give it a try!

#hcp interview #dragon shores zine #spyro zine #spyro the dragon #sorry this is late it was a long day

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shrimposaurus · 6 years

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Congrats on the remakes, my purple dude.

This was for @hauntedcosmospress‘s Dragon Shores zine. Thanks for letting me join, guys! It was fun and the zine looks amazing!

#spyro #spyro the dragon #spyro year of the dragon #sheila the kangaroo #dragon shores #shazy #hauntedcosmospress

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tiip2ydoodles · 6 years

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Anamnesis

I’m so excited to finally unveil this MASSIVE story I wrote for @beforuszine! It was so much fun to work alongside everyone in the project and I’m really happy with the way it turned out.

Download the Zine [HERE] and see the rest of the artwork! Everyone did an amazing job and I hope I get to work on more projects with them in the future! 😻😻😻

The sun rose slowly over the horizon at five thirty-two in the morning, painting the cream walls of a small apartment bedroom a warm peachy color.

With the sun’s rays came a lazy, sluggish sort of heat, a humidity and warmth that thickened the air and stopped the wind. The heat rolled across the pavement outside the apartment and onto the grass, carried by the sun’s rising light that turned the sky a soft orange, then pink, then finally a vibrant blue. The open curtains shifted with the meager wind that managed to fight its way through the muggy morning heat, whispering as the soft material rubbed against itself, almost silent.

Certainly inaudible to the two trolls that occupied the room.

The king-size bed shoved into a corner held them both, curled up around one another, clutching tightly. Legs tangled together, hands gripped at baggy, rolled-up pajama shirts. Grey skin flushed yellow and teal with the warmth of the sun and the soft breaths that spread across neck and cheek alike. One twitched, mumbling something tiredly, and the other drew closer as if to silence them.

That silence would stay until precisely five forty-five.

The tinkling chime of a phone alarm began at exactly the minute mark. A thunderous vibration rattled across the nightstand that silenced the birds outside and sent them all aflutter to escape the horrid drone. Wake up! The screen of the phone read.

A groan rose from one of the pair. The sound of shifting blankets signalled untangling limbs, jerky movements from the tired bodies that as of yet were unaccustomed to wakefulness. Four horns poked themselves from under the blankets, attached to one impressively tousled head of hair. Its owner reached up a spider-like hand, nails painted red and bitten to the quick, and ran it across his scalp as if this would somehow tame the tangles that sleep had gifted him. Instead, all it did was get his hand caught.

“Son of a bitch!”

His voice was louder even than the still-ringing alarm, sharp and lisping. At its sound a sleepy mumble rose from the pair of pointed cone horns buried under the blankets beside him. The other troll of the inseparable pair roused, sitting up and getting a good look at her surroundings. Seeing her mate in his predicament she smiled tiredly, carefully pulled the tangled hand from its trap. Unlike him, her nails remained unpainted and neatly trimmed, as well taken care of as the rest of her.

“Shhhh. You’ll scare the birds.” Latula murmured in a sleep-husky voice. A low grunt left her as she stretched, arching her back and shivering in satisfaction as it pops back into place. The tinkling chime of the phone began to annoy her and she reached over to shut it off.

Mituna, the tousle-haired yellowblood, buries his face into her shoulder, still clearly too groggy to even consider leaving the bed. She chuckles softly and wraps her arms around his waist, leaning as much into him as he is into her. If either one of them were to move away from their position now, the other would surely fall.

“I’ll scare your birds in a minute.” He replies, muffled against her skin.

She laughs and ruffles his hair, careful of the tangles. “Sure you will. Come on, it’s time to get up.”

“Hell no.”

Latula frowned and carefully shifted to give Mituna her best disappointed face. Knowing exactly what was coming, he turned his scarred eyes down and away, refusing to meet her gaze. After all, the look wasn’t there if he couldn’t see it, right?

“Mituna.” She said sternly. Even he can’t ignore the sound of her voice. He groans, nuzzling himself into her chest, pushing her back onto the bed and wrapping his arms around her. He squeezes tightly and refuses to let go, whining. “Mituna, oof - come on. It’s not that bad. It’s not like I’m asking you to run a marathon.”

“I wanna run a marathon.” He grumbled, hiding against her collarbone. “No waking up. Just sleep. It’s too early.”

Latula sighed. They went through this every morning, she wasn’t sure why she was surprised. Giving in, she curled up around him and pulled him close, hitting the snooze button on the next alarm. Mituna heard the distinct ping and smiled, kissing her collar sweetly. She huffed at him and gave one of his horns a gentle flick.

“It’s only an hour. Don’t get excited.” She murmured.

Nonetheless, Latula pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and closed her eyes. Silence fell over the small bedroom yet again and the birds, sensing the relative peace, began their chorus anew. Despite herself, Latula felt her eyes beginning to drift shut. The sound of soft snoring from her mate was her farewell back into sleep.

Latula is a tiny thing, barely four feet tall at four sweeps, with a bandaid on her chin.

Her lusus tells her, “Don’t play around at the skatepark. Watch where you’re going. Don’t forget to wear a helmet when you ride your two wheeled device.” The massive white dragon she calls a parent lovingly pats her helmeted head with a clawed wing, setting her off outside with a cheerful squawk and a puff of smoke from her nostrils. With pursed lips, Latula grabs the handlebars and rides off down the street.

It’s warm; the vernal equinox is long past, sliding lazily into the late solstice seasons when even the nights are unbearably hot. Latula feels grateful for the breeze that brushes past her face as she rides, flicking her ponytail almost playfully, whistling past her ears. The pink moon overhead shines brightly against the backdrop of stars, casting a warm glow over the street and causing long shadows to creep their way out from under Latula and her bike. With no one else out, she almost feels alone in the world, and she can’t tell if that’s a good feeling or not.

Once at the skate park Latula never wants to ride her two wheeled device. Instead it’s ditched near the entrance, hidden in the bushes from thieves and rowdy older trolls who would seek to bother her. She keeps her helmet on - not out of any concern for safety, but purely because something much more important makes her forget to take it off in her excitement. Something that made her come back every day, drop her device like an embarrassing eyesore, and hide near the jungle gym.

Not something - someone.

It’s a yellowblood, a lanky thing with four horns and bright two-toned eyes. His clothes are a horrid clash of primary colours, shorts and a T-shirt dirty with dust from the half-pipes he’s been riding all day. He and his other friends - mostly lowbloods as well - ride the pipes with a grace and ease that say they’ve been doing this for a long while. When he rides the upturn Latula can see his sneakers are mismatched, the same colours as his eyes, with bright yellow strings.

However, despite their loud palette, his clothes aren’t what lead Latula to stare at him from afar each day. It’s the utter joy on his face, the uneven fangs sticking out of his mouth when he smiles so gleeful and triumphant. It’s his voice, whooping and hollering with every downward leap into the pipe like a stereotypical lowblooded hooligan, eyes tearing up yellow with the wind that whips his hair into a frenzied mess. It’s the bloodied knees and hands, no padding, all concern for safety gone out the window. It’s the way he moves with the board in utter synchrony, leaning into it like he was made to ride it. There’s a grace to the yellowblood’s movements that reminds Latula of water, the way it laps at sand and crashes to the shore in great and terrifying waves.

The yellowblood glances her way and there’s a wild smile on his face. Latula gasps, ears turning a light teal, and hides herself away.

Maybe some night she’ll introduce herself, but tonight is not that night.

Sunrises on Earth, Latula’s come to learn, are nowhere near as harsh as the ones on Beforus had been.

The sounds and warmth of the morning roused her not fifteen minutes later as, with the rising of the sun, the world began to come to life. The sound of clinking wooden chimes hung in the window and birds chirping in the nearby oak tree sang the morning’s usual song. Cars outside added their dull rumble and a lawnmower directly underneath them hummed a low bass note to the sweet tune. It made Latula’s ears twitch and a comfortable sort of peace weigh on her body as if to say stay in bed today. There’s no rush. Just enjoy the morning.

The smell of coffee and bacon, however, pulled her from the warmth of her bed.

Mituna was nowhere to be found, the bedsheets beside her rumpled but empty. Her brows furrowed, lips pursing. Mituna always overslept, that was basically a given at this point. Even before his accident he’d overslept. For him to be up before Latula - and making what smelled like a delicious breakfast - was almost unheard of.

With a yawn and a stretch Latula sat up, pushing her tangled hair out of her face. It needed a cut soon, she noted as her brain began to slowly chug to life. Slowly, she pushed herself out of her bed and wiggled her feet into her teal slippers. Mornings had never agreed with either one of them, but Latula was always the morning grump. That was just how it went. How Mituna managed to bounce out of the bed in the morning like a literal ball of sunshine was constantly beyond her imagining.

Glancing at the clock, Latula let out a low groan. She had been the one to oversleep this time.

“Tuney,” She called, shuffling zombielike from the bedroom and forcing back another yawn, hiding it behind her hand. “Tune, are you making breakfast? How long have you been u--oh.”

There, in the kitchen, stood Mituna. Fluffy-haired, grinning wildly, flipping pancakes. Wearing nothing but a very cliched apron that read Kiss the Cook. He spotted Latula leaning against the kitchen doorway and his two-tone eyes sparkled like jewels. If it was even possible, his mouth seemed to stretch into an even bigger smile.

“Hey, Tulip, check it out!” He said, his normally lisping voice slurred even further by the early morning’s tiredness and a lack of caffeination. “I did it! I’ve been practising for ever and I finally got it! I flipped the pancake!”

He looked so proud of himself. Latula couldn’t even bring herself to be angry about the splatters of pancake batter that covered the kitchen counters, or the fact that he was buck-ass naked in front of the stove. She shook her head and grinned, folding her arms.

“You flipped the pancake,” She said, reaching over and trying to get a glop of batter from Mituna’s flyaway hair. It wasn’t working all that well. “Not a bad job, Tuney. Did you put chocolate chips in them?”

“Damn straight.” He pointed to the little brown dots that littered the breakfast treat sizzling away in the pan. “It’s not good without chocolate chips. Tastes like dirt and flour.” He wrinkled his nose, sticking out his tongue and Latula laughed.

“Yeah, that’s fair. We’re gonna need a shower after breakfast, though. You’re covered in batter - and where are your boxers? I swear you went to bed with a pair on.”

Mituna shook the pancake in the pan, avoiding Latula’s eyes. She folded her arms, one hip cocked to the side as she watched him get more and more uneasy. He squirmed under her gaze and she knew that he wouldn't be long breaking. Then--

“Fiiiiine,” He admitted finally. “They’re too tight. I left ‘em in the respiteblock. Clothes are dumb anyway.” With a dramatic flair he pointed the spatula at Latula, a cocky grin on his face and mischief in his eyes. “You should take yours off too. Come on! Strip! Strip or no pancakes.”

Latula snorted. “Ha! You wish. I’ll save the stripping for the bath.” She said, taking the spatula from him daintily and turning over the pancake before it burnt to the dry bottom of the pan. She added more butter and the teflon sizzled, smoke rising in the air as the butter melted and turned a bitter brown. Mituna hissed and covered his ears, moving back away from the pan with a disgruntled expression.

“Sorry for the noise, babe.” Latula waved the buttery spatula towards the table. “Get us some plates, Tuney? I’ll finish up here.”

“But I wanted to make breakfast for you!” Mituna’s protest came out a little more whiny than he would have liked to admit, but it still melted Latula’s heart anyway. His lips pursed in a sulky expression and the kicked-barkbeast look he wore was enough to make even Latula back down. With a soft expression she sighed, turning down the stove to a respectable temperature and pouring the batter for another pancake. When she was done, she handed Mituna back the spatula and kissed him sweetly. He smiled into the kiss, knowing he’d won.

It wasn’t as if Latula ever won against his puppy look, anyway.

Latula heard the hit before she saw it.

The sound of fists meeting flesh was not one she was accustomed to, but it was nonetheless unmistakable. She would have thought nothing of it, continuing on her nightly bike ride to the park, but then she heard something else that made her already cool blood freeze in her veins. Cries of pain in an all too familiar voice; a voice that Latula normally heard whooping and cheering as its owner dove headfirst down ramps and came up the other side, sailing through the air.

A kind of anger flooded Latula's pan and her tires skidded on the dirt trail that led to the park as she whirled around. Her legs throbbed, pedaling as hard as she could to race back towards the source of the sound.

Her suspicions were confirmed. There, lying just off the path, a cluster of higher-blooded trolls gathered in a circle around a familiar yellow-jacketed target. He had his hands over his head, bandaged knees tucked in towards the core of his body to try and avoid getting any more kicks to the stomach. It didn't work; someone got him from behind and he cried out again, shouting curses and spitting vehemently at the group. It only caused them to jeer louder, encouraging their antics.

Latula, a tiny, scrappy little tealblood, had no chance against the three blues and a violet that threatened the object of her hidden obsession. But that wasn't about to stop her; she sped forward with an angry holler on her lips, her front tire aimed directly for the ringleader of the group.

Two or three of them looked up and their eyes widened. Like a synchronized ballet they all dove out of the way, yelling in fear of the crazy little wriggler speeding towards them at a breakneck pace. If she didn't hurt them, she was certain to hurt herself with how insane she was acting. But she didn't care; the bluebloods scattered and Latula stumbled off her bike, lunging at the violet with teeth bared and an angry scream on her lips.

It worked. The violet looked about to piss himself as he raced back, tripping over a rock behind him and scrambling on all fours like a pinchbeast to get away from her. She smiled, all victorious fangs and scraped-up hands and knees. Her body hurt from the fall she'd taken but her heart was racing and she felt proud to have done something good. Slowly she got to her feet, panting and feeling adrenaline course through her body

"Are you okay?" She asked the yellowblood, who still sat dumbfounded on the ground. He stared up at her and Latula took a moment to simply admire his two-toned eyes. Red and blue, she decided, were her two favorite colours. Even though she was still breathing heavily she leaned down, reaching out a hand to help him up.

He hesitated. Latula was frightened for a moment that he would call her out, get angry for acting like a culler. Her blood colour suddenly became very prominent in her mind and anxiety bells rang. Was this something a culler would do? Was this even okay? Did he think that she was just doing this to coddle him?

Then he smiled wide. He laughed, reaching up and taking her hand, pushing himself up off the ground.

"That was awesome!" He cheered. "Did you see them running? Man, you were like an angry hornbeast! I've never seen anything like that before!" The energy that he exuded as he fist-pumped the air made it look as if he hadn't been injured at all, despite the newly forming bruises she'd seen as his jacket pulled away from his stomach. He didn't even seem to care. "Damn, Teal! That was the best thing I've seen all week."

Latula's cheeks went a bright blue and she smiled sheepishly. Well, at least he wasn't angry. To have the object of her affections cheering her on for a momentary lapse of judgement, though, that was...something else.

"Thanks," She said, rather shyly. "I, uh....I hope I didn't hurt you with my bike or anything."

"Nah." The yellowblood waved her off. "Nothing I haven't done to myself before. I'm Mituna, by the way."

His smile was adorably gap-toothed as he held out a hand to shake. He must have chipped a fang recently. Latula thought it was one of the most adorable things she'd ever seen. Her ears perked up, turning teal as she reached out a shaking hand and clasping his in her own. "Latula."

"Latula, huh?" His smile didn't even fade for a second. "Sounds like a flower. Do you skate any?"

Latula shook her head no. Mituna laughed.

"What are you doing near a skate park if you can't skate? Do you do any rad tricks on your bike?"

Another shake of her head. "I just like to watch."

Mituna's smile became a little gentler then. He let go of her hand, picking up his board and her bike, handing the latter back to her. "Well, let's go change that." He said, walking towards the park. Latula's eyes widened. Without a second thought she trotted along right behind him.

"Don't forget your pills!"

Mituna's voice echoed down the hall from Latula as she finished clearing away the dishes. The pancakes had been slightly burnt, but a little bit of syrup had fixed them right up. Sometimes she forgot just how good of a cook Mituna had been before his accident. He was getting there again, too. She reminded herself to praise him a little more on it. After all, Mituna loved praise on anything, and she loved seeing the way his face lit up when he'd done something right.

He was doing a lot more things right lately. Latula was amazed at just how much a new world and a new life had begun to heal him in so little time. Then again, stagnance was never good for anything except bringing out the worst in people. Even bright, sunshiney people like Mituna fell victim.

"Can do, toots. Go on up, I'll be there in a minute. I just wanna scrub this pan before anything gets caked." Latula called back to him.

"Hurry up! Just let it soak!" Mituna sounded impatient and she sighed, shaking her head and putting the pan back in the hot water.

"Fine, fine." She said. Her arm was aching anyway from trying ineffectually to get the sticky bits of chocolate off the pan. It could soak for a little while, she supposed. Not everything had to be done right away. Rolling her shoulder, she reached into the cabinet on top of the fridge and pulled out a small orange bottle. Her nose wrinkled as she dumped one pill out into her palm and tossed it into her mouth. It went down rather stickily since she'd dry-swallowed, but at least it went down this time. She put the pills back, seeing another bottle and hesitating.

"Did you take your pills?" Latula called up to Mituna.

"What?"

"I said," She yelled a little louder. "Did you take your pills?"

"Yes!"

"Okay." She closed the cupboard door and headed up the stairs. Clothes were strewn throughout the hallway as if Mituna had stripped on his way up the stairs and into the bathroom. He sat in the already full tub with a big grin hidden under the bubbles.His ears wiggled and Latula huffed, hands on her hips.

"I don't trust that look on your face." She said, tugging off her shirt.

"What look?" Mituna asked innocently. "I don't have a look on my face, unless you count my normal gorgeousness."

Latula snorted. She wasn't about to debate his attractiveness, though, not when he was wiggling impatiently and waiting for her to hop into the tub. The water was comfortably lukewarm to combat the heat of the summer day outside, splashing slightly over the rim of the tub. Mituna had overfilled it accidentally. With her toe Latula tugged on the bath plug, letting some of the water slip through without Mituna noticing. It didn't work that well; the tub gave an obnoxious sucking noise and she winced. Mituna didn't seem to notice.

"Did you take your pill?" He asked, looking down at her as she settled comfortably into his lap. She leaned back against him and he raised wet hands, stroking them through her hair to dampen it.

"Yeah." She said, tilting her head back to look up at him and pressing a kiss to his chin. He beamed happily at her.

"Good. No forgetting our pills. The human mediculler said so."

A soft hum left Latula and she let him play with her hair. It was nice, sometimes, to have him look after her and worry about her. Sometimes it bugged her, but the more she went to therapy the fewer and further between those moments were. Now she just enjoyed the quiet, peaceful moments where she didn't have to move or think, just feel the softness of his hands as they combed tenderly through her hair and wove it into messy but well-intentioned braids.

That reminded her...

"You have therapy today," She said, opening one eye to look at him. "Feeling up to going this time? It's okay if you're not."

Mituna gave a thoughtful hum. He'd missed the last two, they both knew that, but the therapist he saw was more than understanding. She was patient, and kind, and never faulted him for missing appointments he didn't have the energy to make. Latula was seriously considering switching therapists to see his.

Finally, after a moment's silence, Mituna nodded. "Yeah." He said. "Yeah I can go today. Today's a good day."

Latula beamed at him and leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Proud of you." She murmured softly.

Mituna blushed, fumbled with her hair and looked away. "'S just an appointment." He said, flustered. "Missed the last couple, it's not like I'm doin' all that great--"

He found himself hushed by another soft kiss. He would have protested, but Latula's lips were soft and cool and just the right amount of plush. Plus, she still tasted like chocolate and syrup. He kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

A meteor struck Latula's treehouse hive. She swore, a panicked note to her voice.

"Tuna!" She said through her headset, watching her screen frantically. "Tuna, come on, get through! I can't jump until you do!"

"I can't!" If Latula sounded scared, he was downright terrified. Frozen in place, Latula watched as he struggled to climb onto the roof of the impossibly large hive they'd built to reach his [insert name for portal thing here]. Her heart stopped as he slipped from the tile, grabbing on with one desperate hand and crying out in absolute terror. She cried out with him. "I can't do it! Tulip, help me!"

"I can't - I don't know what to do!" Her breaths were coming quick and heavy now and her heart hammered in her ears. Across the keyboard her fingers trembled, misspelling words as she typed frantic, panicky pleas for help to anyone in her session. No one listened. Why wouldn't anyone listen? Even Cronus had vanished - where was he?! He was supposed to be here!

On the screen Mituna had managed to swing himself up. Okay. Okay, this was going a little better. He could do this. They could do this. Latula watched him as he scrambled over the multiple rooftops and balcony railings in a half-assed attempt at parkour. Over her headphones she could hear his claws scraping against the sandpaper tiles as he scrabbled onto the final level of the toppling building. Her heart swelled with elation.

"Yes!" She cried, then clapped her hands over her mouth realizing that she'd screamed straight into the microphone. "Sorry, Tune!"

"It's okay!" Mituna sounded breathless and just as elated as she felt. "Okay - okay, I think I can lift myself from here, it's just a jump, right?" He tilted his head to look up at the portal above him. It seemed a mile away. How long had it been since he'd used his psi? Too long for something like this. He was out of practise. Fucking cullers.

"Yeah, just a jump!" Latula frantically worked at her own computer, glancing at the other feeds from the ten trolls that'd been roped into this with them. They were the last ones to go through. She scrambled to the top of her hive, struggling to keep her husktop steady. "Okay. Okay, you jump, and then I'll be right behind you in just a minute, okay? We might lose connection for a minute--"

Mituna wasn't listening. Latula heard the telltale crackle of his psi and the next moment, he was launching himself through the air towards the gate. She could see him rocketing towards it one minute, and the next - the next the feed was cut off.

He'd made it.

Latula sighed with relief and hung her head. The husktop, now useless, fell to the wayside and bounced off the precariously build hive with a firm crack. Latula looked up at her own gate and, with a loud grunt of effort, threw herself at it..

"Ready to go?"

Mituna's voice broke Latula from her reverie. In the time that it'd taken her to pull on her clothes he'd already braided her hair, pulled his own into a messy ponytail, and gotten his clothes on. Even his shoes were tied. Latula remembered a time when he couldn't even pull his jumpsuit off, but here he was sporting a pair of board shorts, a baggy tanktop and his old mismatched shoes and everything was on right and tidy. Her chest clenched. Pride swelled up inside her. Slowly she stood up, grabbing her shoes.

"Yeah, just give me a sec, babe." She murmured. Mituna fidgeted impatiently and whined.

"Come on, slowpoke!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming, hold on." Latula stood and stretched, feeling her back pop from where she'd been hunched over her shoelaces for the last age and a half. Mituna tangled one arm with hers, keys already in hand, and half-dragged her to the door.

"You're so spacey today." He pointed out. When Latula gave him a confused look, he very obviously rolled his eyes and huffed as he tried to find the words to explain. "You're all - thinking about other things. Your pan isn't in your head, Tulip!"

"Where else would my pan be?" She teased him and he groaned aloud.

"You know what I mean."

Latula glanced at him, his expectant expression. She smiled warmly. He'd changed so much, but at the same time, not at all. She almost wished that she could see herself through his eyes, wondering if she'd changed any since they'd met. Who did he see when he looked at her?

That didn't really matter. Whatever he saw, clearly he still loved it. Loved her. She kissed his forehead sweetly and he bumped noses with her in an attempt to make the kiss meet his lips. She laughed and kissed him there, too.

"Doesn't matter, babe." She said. "Come on. We've got stuff to do today."

The question seemed to vanish from Mituna's mind. He nodded, stealing one more kiss as he opened the door.

"Ladies first?" He said.

Latula laughed and stepped outside.

#beforuszine #Beforus Zine #Latula Pyrope #Mituna Captor #Homestuck #My writing

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