#some crops! i’ve been writing a few fan fictions and these are some of the doodles in the margins hehe

[coincasual]

monster high pencil doodle dump!!!

[diaphragmjellyfish]

I Have This... Thing

Not My Gif

So as someone with vaginismus, it’s sometimes frustrating to read fan fiction, specifically smut. Y/N always has sex so easily and with very little foreplay, finishing with no issues. And it’s so great for people who can do that, but it’s not the case for all of us. Some of us can’t have any sort of penetration without pain. Some people can’t finish without toys, or hours of work. Some people will never be able to have penetrative sex. There’s all kinds of people, and there’s all kinds of sex. But not near enough fics featuring Y/N’s with these issues. So I’m going to write some, and feel free to request any issue with any character, and if I don’t know that character, we can collaborate to find a character you like that I do know. 

Paul Lahote x reader smut. 

You had lived in Forks for about 6 months now. You’ve known your new friends here for 5 months. And you’ve been the imprint of Paul Lahote for 3 months. Well, you’ve been his imprint since you guys first locked eyes at La Push when you first hung out with Emily, but he didn’t tell you about the whole werewolf/ imprint thing until 3 months ago. Safe to say it came as a shock. Your friends, the people who had welcomed you so easily, helped you move furniture around, and gave you tours of the new town, were WOLVES. Or engaged to wolves. *cough* Emily *cough*. You had to take a few weeks break from them after they told you. After Sam explained the legends, the lore. After Paul told you that you were basically his soul mate. It’s a lot to take in! 

But you quickly realized that you had grown to love the pack. And now that you knew the big secret, things were easier around them. No more lies about where they had all been. No more avoiding talking about their mysterious injuries that only seemed to last for a couple hours. No more awkwardly dancing around why Paul stared at you constantly and wouldn’t let any other guy get within 6 feet of you without having a rage attack and sprinting into the woods. Things were going good. 

Well… as good as they could be without sex. Yep. You and Paul had been together for 3 months and you have not had sex. You didn’t give each other head. You didn’t take your clothes off around each other. You didn’t even dry hump. And you knew it was your fault. You could tell that Paul was getting nervous about the fact that you wouldn’t let him touch you like that. He would never ask you about it, because he wouldn’t want you to feel pressured or rushed, but you could tell it was on his mind. The little sad smile he would give when you stopped things from going further. The hover of his hands over your ass before landing back on your waist. The way he looked almost guilty after looking at you in a swimsuit or crop top. 

See, vaginismus made relationships difficult. You never had a long term relationship before Paul. You were either too scared to tell partners about it, and just dealt with the excruciating pain, which would lead to resentment and breakups, or you would tell them and they would ghost you. Guys don’t normally go for girls who’s opening line is “Hi! I cannot have sex without crying.” You’d been dilating for almost a year now. It was going okay. Some days hurt more than others. A lot of times, Paul would ask you to hang out when you were in the middle of your physical therapy, and you would have to make up some excuse as to why you couldn't. Too tired. Headache. Stomach bug. He was starting to catch on. 

One day, you guys were hanging out at your apartment watching a movie. You had been making out, but as soon as it started getting slightly heated, you had pulled away and got up to get a drink refill. Paul, having gotten used to the routine, didn’t question you. While you were in the kitchen pouring some more juice, Paul asked “Hey babe? Do you have a charger I can borrow?”

“Yeah it’s in the top drawer of my bedside table,” you haphazardly yelled back. 

You heard him get up and go into your bedroom, rummaging around a little. Then silence. 

“Hey babe?” he said hesitantly. You thought he just couldn’t find the charger, so you began walking towards your room to grab it for him. Once you got to the doorway, you stopped dead in your tracks. Eyes wide. Face bright red. Paul held up the dilator you were currently on, which was about 5 inches long and looked… well let’s be honest. It looked like a dildo. The bottle of lubricant that was also in the drawer didn’t help your case. How the fuck were you supposed to explain yourself? You expected Paul to tease you, make some sex jokes, and maybe try to make out with you again, but he didn’t. He looked absolutely crushed. 

“Do you not want to have sex with me?” He asked, sounding on the verge of tears. 

“What?! Paul, of course I want to have sex with you!”

“Then why this?” he pressed.

“You don’t even know what that’s for. Let me explain,” you pleaded, afraid he was going to lose that infamous temper. You’d never witnessed it before, but you were scared you were about to. 

“I think I have a pretty good guess about what this is for!” He exclaimed, holding it up. “You won’t even let me kiss your neck but you have this that you obviously use when I’m not around. You don’t want to have sex with me. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Paul! That’s not true at all!” You were starting to get irritated at his assumptions. “It’s for physical therapy.” 

“Oh, is that what we’re calling orgasms now?” He questioned, exasperated. 

“I’m not talking about orgasms! If you gave me two seconds to explain, you would know that that does not bring me an ounce of pleasure. I hate having to use it.” You started to tear up at this, all the memories of your struggles surging back up. At this, Paul stopped. He looked super confused, but also worried about you. God forbid you shed a tear, Paul would rip the world apart to make you happy again. “Come sit down,” you said, resigned, as you moved to sit on the edge of your bed. Paul, still holding the dilator in his hand, sat down next to you. The silence seemed to last an eternity, but you knew that the longer you went without explaining, the more hurt Paul would feel. 

“I wasn’t lying when I said it was for physical therapy,” you whispered. “I have other ones. All different sizes.” You realized you might not have been helping your case with this. 

“I don’t understand. Why do you need them if you don’t use them to get off?” He looked like a kicked puppy. 

“Well… I have this thing. It’s like… a condition? And I need them so maybe one day I can have sex without any pain.” He still looked wildly confused, and you knew you were going to have to elaborate. “When I first started having sex, it hurt. A lot. But I always heard that it was supposed to hurt the first time. So I just kind of put up with it. It was bad though. I always tapped out, couldn’t go for more than a couple minutes. It felt like this really intense stinging. Like a rugburn all inside me. And it didn’t stop, even after I started doing it more. It never went away… I ended up googling it, and it’s actually something that a lot of women struggle with. I made a doctor’s appointment and was lucky enough to get diagnosed the first time. Lots of women are told they’re making it up. My doctor gave me these dilators, told me how to use them, and said that with enough time and physical therapy, I could have painless sex one day.” When you finished, you turned to look at him. He was staring intently at the dilator, thinking. 

“So, you have to like… stretch yourself? Were you just born too small?” He phrased it delicately, but you knew what he meant. 

“Basically, it’s an anxiety disorder with very physical symptoms. My pelvic floor muscles constrict when I try to put anything inside me, which makes it super painful. It’s like an involuntary reflex. Like blinking when something flies near your face. And I have to condition my body to learn that penetration doesn’t hurt, and that it doesn’t have to tighten up like that. The condition is called vaginismus. You can google it yourself if you want.” 

“Oh.” A pause. Paul knew you had some anxiety, but he never guessed it could cause something like this. He knew you were embarrassed. He could tell. And the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you couldn’t be open and vulnerable with him. Did you think he would leave you? Or get mad? “Why didn’t you tell me?” Was the question that came out. 

“It’s humiliating. I could tell you were getting antsy about us not having sex, and I guess I didn’t have the heart to tell you that it’s not going to happen anytime soon. This physical therapy, it takes a while. I’ve already been doing it for almost a year, and I still have three sizes after this one.” A tear fell. You wiped it away quickly, hoping he Paul wouldn’t notice, but he did. He moved to wrap his arms around you, putting the dilator back on your nightstand. He embraced you, and the reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere was more than you could handle. You burst into tears as he pulled you onto his lap and rocked you both, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You guys stayed there until you stopped crying, and then he finally spoke. 

“Y/N, I don’t ever want you to feel like there’s something you can’t tell me. I love you. And yeah, I would love to have sex with you one day, but I’m with you because of who you are. I don’t care if we never do it. You are my person, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you the happiest you can be. This? This thing you think is such a problem? It’s irrelevant to me. To my love for you. And I will be here every step of the way, supporting you, cheering you on, until you don’t want me anymore.” He brought your hand up to his mouth and kissed it. 

“I love you, Paul,” was all you could say. You leaned in and shared the sweetest, most loving kiss either of you had ever experienced. His hand cupped the side of your face, thumb rubbing your cheek. When you pulled away, the tension in the room was gone, replaced with you and Paul’s usual light, fun energy. 

“How do you use them?” He smiled as he asked, nodding his head towards your nightstand where the dilator still rested. “Do you like… just ride them? Or..?” 

You laughed, which made his smile broaden. “It’s not a sexual thing. Basically I put a towel down, cover the dilator in lube, and put it in as far as I can without pain. Then, I just sit there and leave it for like 20 minutes. And then I take it out.” 

“So you just like... do homework while you do it?” His concerned face made you laugh again. 

“You have to make your body associate it with pleasure, so no, I don’t do homework. Normally I’ll watch a funny show or eat some candy or FaceTime you.”

He froze at this. “You do this when we FaceTime?” 

This made you blush and look away from his piercing gaze. “Sometimes. I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable. It’s just a nice distraction.” 

“No, no. I don’t want you to stop. It’s just… can I see you do it?” This question shocked you. Not just the question itself, but the fact that you didn’t hate the idea. You loved kissing Paul. What better way to associate therapy with pleasure than by kissing him while you do it? 

“Are you sure? Like I said, it’s not exactly sexual. Or sexy. Like at all. I literally just sit there.” 

“I know, it’s ok. I want to be able to help you, but if you don’t want to we can just go back to the movie.” 

“I mean I do still have to do it today.” You thought for another second, before jumping up and saying “Okay. Let’s do it.” 

Paul looked happy and excited, but also lost. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, or with his eyes. Did you want him to touch you? Or just watch you? Or just sit in the corner of the room and face the wall? You were spreading a towel across the middle of the bed, and went to untie your sweatpants before looking at him. 

“Guess we haven’t really gotten this far, huh?” alluding to being naked in front of each other. It did make you a little nervous, and nerves equal tight muscles, which means pain. 

“Why don’t you put a blanket over yourself? That way there’s less pressure,” he suggested, and you could have kissed him for it. You smiled, nodded, and grabbed a throw blanket from the chair. He turned around to face the wall while you took off your pants and settled under the blanket. 

“Ok, I’m good.” you said. He turned back around, coming to kneel beside you on the bed. 

“Do you want me to just… hold your hand? Or sit here and talk to you?” 

“Would you want to sit behind me?” You suggested nervously, leaning forward slightly. 

“Of course! Yeah, I can do that.” He took this seriously, and you appreciated that. This was a scenario you had thought about many times, and though you knew he wouldn’t be the type to ask you to have sex with him despite the pain, it was always a possibility. The fact that he didn’t take your pain lightly, and let you be in charge so you would be comfortable, meant more to you than he would ever know. Paul gently climbed behind you, putting his legs on either side of you, and hesitantly rubbing your shoulders. You leaned back into him, as if to say I’m okay with this.

“Can you hand me the… “ You nodded your head towards the nightstand, and Paul didn’t need to hear the rest of the sentence before he leaned over and grabbed the dilator and bottle of lube, holding them out in front of you both. You muttered a “thanks” as you took them from his hands, and brought them under the blanket. After slathering the dilator with a good amount of lube, you closed the bottle and tossed it towards the foot of the bed, leaning back and shifting your hips down. Paul clearly didn’t want to overstep his boundaries, so he was slow and careful as he wrapped his arms around your torso, giving you time to say stop. You didn’t, though. He felt your body tense slightly as you dragged the tip of the dilator around your entrance, so he started to rub his hands up and down your sides, kissing your cheek. You turned your head to look at him, and he met you with a sweet kiss. You guys pulled away slightly, before going back in as you began to push the dilator in further. He kissed you with love, tenderness, and care, so as not to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. It was clear that you had the reigns, and Paul would stop as soon as you gave the slightest indication that you were uncomfortable. The dilator was about half way in, and you felt a slight stinging sensation, but kissing Paul distracted you. You brought one hand up to cup the side of his face, pulling him back in. 

Paul kept kissing you, waiting for your lips to part so he could brush his tongue against yours. This is normally where you would stop him, but he knew everything now. There was no expectation of more, and damn. Paul was a really good kisser. He sucked lightly at your lower lip, before nibbling it and letting it go, coming back in with his lips. The combination of Paul’s kisses, the slight heat they brought to your body, and the pressure of the tip of the dilator inside you had you shift your hips, and involuntarily let out a small moan. It was barely audible, but Paul and his super senses heard it. You pulled away and slapped a hand over your mouth, your face turning bright red. He chuckled deeply, the sound going straight to your body, and brought his hand up to pull your hand off your mouth. “Don’t you dare hide those sounds from me,” he teasingly whispered into your ear. You shivered, and Paul started to kiss your cheek, down your jaw, and onto your neck. He sucked on the soft skin, hands squeezing your waist and rubbing up and down. You wanted to try something. For the first time, dilating actually didn’t feel so obligatory, so mechanical and stiff. You pushed the dilator deeper in, just about a centimeter, but enough to give you that feeling you had moments ago. You let out a breathy sigh as you tilted your head to give Paul more room on your neck. He felt you shift your hips again, and brought one of his hands to rub circles on your lower stomach. Skin on skin. And it felt good. 

You kept going like this for a few minutes, and Paul could feel your skin grow hotter by the second. Your back was arched, your neck covered in light red marks, and Paul had the intense desire to see you unravel. He brought his lips from your neck up to the side of your face, getting as close to eye contact as he could in this position, and said “Can I touch you?” 

You knew what he meant. The thought of it made you nervous. No one had touched you without it hurting before. It was almost as if he read your mind when he followed with “I can just stay on the outside…” Oh. You could be down with that. You turned your head to him and nodded. 

“Just try not to touch the dilator,” you said softly. You trusted Paul. He was already being so kind and patient with this, and you knew he would die before he would ever hurt you. The hand that had been rubbing circles on your stomach travelled lower. Lower. Lower. Until he could feel the slight stubble of a past shave, and then your soft, wet skin. You gasped as he touched your most sensitive parts, even more so because of how turned on you were. He gently made small, tight circles over your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head as you fell completely slack against him and let out a moan. A real moan, that Paul swore he would never forget. And he made you make that sound. It only spurred him on. He applied slightly more pressure, but not so much as to overwhelm you. And he knew that when girls were feeling good, the secret wasn’t faster or harder, but to keep doing exactly what you were doing. So that’s what he did, and it had you writhing. Your moans kept coming, and your legs had started to shake. However, because it felt so good, your muscles had started to clench around the dilator, and it was beginning to hurt. 

You didn’t want to rain on the parade. It was going so well. But Paul being the attentive lover that he is, noticed you begin to tense up in a new way. He brought his hand back up to your stomach, concern racing through his brain, and asked “Are you okay? Does it hurt?” 

“It’s kind of starting to. Not you, the dilator. I think I might take it out.” You stared down at his hand still touching your stomach. Such beautiful hands. You didn’t want it to end. 

“Do you want to try a smaller one? Or do you want to stop?” He questioned. 

“I really don’t want to stop,” you laughed. He breathed a laugh as well, and waited for your direction. You had a thought. Paul’s index finger was smaller than the dilator. Much smaller. If you just told him what to do and what not to do, that could feel really good. “Would you want to maybe… Nevermind.” You got nervous. 

“Hey, hey. No. Don’t do that. Tell me what you want,” He brought a finger up to your chin and moved your face towards him. “Tell me. Whatever it is, Princess. It’s yours.” Your whole body shuddered at this. He’s never called you that before, and to say it did something to you would be an understatement. 

You let out a breath, gathering courage, and said “Would you want to… use your finger?” 

He stopped at this. “Like, put my finger inside you? That wouldn’t hurt?” 

“I don’t think so. It’s smaller than this,” you said, bringing the dilator out and up. “And as long as I tell you what to do, it could be really good,” you said the last part shyly. 

“Okay, Princess. I can do that. How do you want me to do it?” 

“Try to do more… pressure, and less… friction? Like try not to go in and out so much, but you can move it around inside.” Your face was once again blushing intensely. 

“Anything you want. You just have to promise that you’ll tell me if it even hurts a little.”

“I promise.” You said it confidently enough that Paul brought his hand back down under the blanket. He circled your clit a couple times, making you shiver and release a breathy sigh, before moving his middle finger even lower, circling your entrance. He gathered some of the lube that was there from the dilator, coating his finger, and you brought your hand down to hold it, guiding it inside you at a speed that was comfortable. It was smaller than the dilator, so he was in you in 15 seconds. He stopped, and gave you a minute to adjust. Your hips writhed again because of how turned on you were, so Paul brought his other hand down and began circling your clit again. Your head fell back on his shoulder as you began to moan again, hips moving even more now. Paul took this as his queue to press his middle finger up against your inner wall lightly, causing a loud moan to leave your mouth. You were too far gone to be embarrassed. 

“There you go, baby,” he praised. God, this was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He was barely touching you, barely moving his finger inside you, and you were a mess. He had been rock hard since you guys started, but your ass was rubbing against him as you moved your hips, and he released a small growl at the feeling. This only turned you on more. He kept moving his finger in you the same way. Pressure, not friction. Pressure, not friction. He kept telling himself this. He wanted to finger bang you into oblivion, but the risk of hurting you was too high, so he kept up with rubbing the tip of his finger against that spot on your upper wall, in a “come-hither” motion. Your moans began to get higher in pitch, your body tensing even more.

“Relax your muscles for me, sweetheart,” he encouraged, and you did. Your release was approaching rapidly, and you wanted to grind against his hand, but you didn’t want to risk pain, so you trusted Paul to get you there. You were panting, hips shuddering, face scrunched, as your climax hit you like a wave. Your legs shook as you opened your mouth in a silent scream, and Paul carried you all the way through it. You came down, and lightly grabbed his wrists. He knew that that meant stop. So he slowly withdrew his finger, brought it up to his mouth, and sucked on it. Head still up in the clouds, you watched him, slack-jawed, as he popped his finger out and moaned. “So sweet,” he purred. Watching him suck on his finger like that made you think of something you’d like to suck on, and you looked down at Paul, still rock hard, and turned around in his lap. 

“Let me return the favor,” you said with a smirk.

[twistedtummies2]

Four Must-Read Books Based on “Alice in Wonderland”

I know I just finished my “Artists in Wonderland” event, but I’m still in an Alice mood, and especially in regards to literature. So I decided to cover another topic in terms of Wonderland in writing: different books based on the “Alice” stories. Of course, movies, video games, and TV shows have given us countless reinterpretations of the “Alice” stories and characters, but there have been just as many - and probably more - in writing. From stories based on the real-life events behind the scenes, to sequels, reimaginings, and prequels of the Carrollian classics, literature has provided an abundance of different takes on Wonderland. What’s interesting is that - beyond children’s picture books and such other things -  many of these reinterpretations take a darker and more adult stance with the story, creating unique lore and diving into the characters in a way Carroll’s stories do not do. This is nothing new, of course, but literature can do this in a way that most screen-based versions either cannot or do not. Now, there are numerous books based on Wonderland, like I said, and I’ve read my fair share. Today, however, I wanted to provide a short “must read” list with four key books that I feel anyone interested in “Alice” should take a look at. Again, there are a LOT more than four. Some books I enjoy that I won’t be mentioning here are The Splintered Trilogy, The Alice Chronicles, The Queen of Hearts Saga, Still She Haunts Me, After Alice, and Grin: The Unauthorized Biography of a Cheshire Cat. These are just to name a few that aren’t included here: all of them have their own unique merits and are worth looking up if you have time. These are just four books that I would classify as the cream of the crop. I should add that I won’t be including non-fiction books on the list, such as biographies, analytical or informational texts, etc. I’m specifically looking at works of fiction inspired by the stories. With that said, here are Four Must-Read Books for Alice in Wonderland Fans.

4. Alice I Have Been.

I’m starting this off with the most unique and arguably the most fascinating of the whole bunch. “Alice I Have Been,” written by Melanie Benjamin, is NOT an “Alice in Wonderland” story. It isn’t about the Mad Hatter, the White Rabbit, the Queen of Hearts, or any of the characters in the books. Instead, this is a piece of historical fiction that effectively tells the life story of Alice Hargreaves (nee Liddell), the young lady who inspired Charles Dodgson (a.k.a. Lewis Carroll) to write the Wonderland books to begin with. The novel focuses on Alice’s relationship with Carroll, of course, but also just on her life in general, as she squares off her own desires and simple humanity with the fact that she is seen as someone she isn’t. In a way, the book is a lot like the movie “Dreamchild,” but while that film occasionally brings people into the fantasy of Wonderland and mostly focuses on Alice as an old woman, “Alice I Have Been” sticks entirely to the real world, and traces her life pretty much from birth to death. It’s not a biography, as it IS written in the form of a novel, and does take some liberties here and there based on the writer’s presumptions and the themes and ideas they want to play with. However, it does paint a very sincere and true-to-life portrait of the young woman, whose life story so many people never really paid attention to. If you’re more interested in reading about the actual Wonderland characters and world, then the other three books on this list are going to be more to your taste, but I felt I simply could not leave Melanie Benjamin’s gorgeous story out of the running.

3. Unbirthday.

This book is part of a series by Liz Braswell, called “Twisted Tales.” The series is published by Disney, and in each novel, a question is asked about a particular Disney movie. The novel then riffs on that question, usually by presenting a sort of AU or “What If?” scenario, but sometimes by creating a new story, a prequel or sequel, to provide a new spin on the world and characters. The latter is the case with “Unbirthday.” Admittedly, Unbirthday’s premise is not the most inspired: a grown-up Alice returns to Wonderland, and finds it has become a darker and more dangerous place than ever before. She thus joins forces with a group of freedom fighters to battle the Queen of Hearts and save Wonderland. This exact premise, in those two sentences, can sum up a LOT of different “Alice” works. And I mean A LOT: most of the more prominent darker reinterpretations of Wonderland follow that basic formula. This book isn’t the first, and it isn’t the last. So, what makes it special? One simple little thing: all other darker Wonderlands with this premise are essentially their own invention. They aren’t based on any specific pre-existing version of the stories, they’re really their own thing, with their own special spin on the setting and characters. “Unbirthday” is interesting because it’s actually based on a very particular version of Wonderland, the Disney one. This makes the story unique, because we aren’t simply seeing newer, darker takes on the Mad Hatter, the White Rabbit, the Queen of Hearts, and other characters. We’re seeing the Disney ones - the ones so many of us know best and are familiar with from childhood, beyond all the rest - being corrupted and twisted in various ways. Similarly, we aren’t simply seeing a grown-up Alice, we’re seeing the Disney Alice all grown up. It’s a bit like watching “Spider-Man: No Way Home” versus “Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse.” Both are films with similar concepts at play, but they take very different approaches, and a big part of this is that one uses versions of the characters we’ve seen before and have a pre-established connection with, while the other is totally original. The best part is that Braswell’s writing is so meticulously handled, the characters really DO feel like those Disney versions, from the way they speak to the way they are described as generally behaving. If you’re a fan of dark Wonderlands, a fan of the Disney film, or both, check this one out.

2. Heartless.

This book by Marissa Meyer is a rare example of a prequel to the “Alice” stories. This is something that actually isn’t as common as you would think. Sequels to Wonderland and reimaginings of the story are pretty easy to come by, but prequels - stories that detail the world before Alice - are quite rare. I think this is mostly because, in the books, Wonderland is supposedly just a dream Alice had. And in many strict adaptations, it’s left ambiguous, at best, how much of Wonderland was a dream and how much of it was real. So what’s the point in creating a backstory and lore to a world that doesn’t exist? Well, of course, these works base themselves on the idea it DOES exist, and while they are not common, they are out there. In my opinion, “Heartless” is the single best Wonderland prequel I’ve ever come across. The story ostensibly tells the tale of how the Queen of Hearts - here named Catherine - became the fat, pompous, bad-tempered old tyrant we all know and love to hate. In other words, it’s essentially “Wicked” (the novel, not the play), but for the Queen of Hearts. And much like “Wicked,” it not only gives us the skinny on the main villainess, but also involves multiple other characters from the books, most notably the Mad Hatter, the Cheshire Cat, the Duchess, and the King of Hearts, although other characters show up here and there, too. The primary reason I think Meyer’s book tops other prequels to the stories is simply this: with other prequels I’ve encountered, there’s always this sort of inconclusive feeling. Like, it’s hard to imagine these characters becoming the ones in the Carroll stories. That ISN’T the case with “Heartless”: not only is Catherine’s petulant, furious, rage-filled personality perfectly understandable, giving a once comically cruel and violently nasty villain a sympathetic and complex persona, but other characters feel very natural in their progression from where they start off to where we next see them. They’re written in such a way that they really do feel like those Victorian caricatures of madness we all care about so much, while still existing in their own unique space. This, above all else, makes Heartless one of my favorite Wonderland-based books. Check it out if you ever wanted to know what life was like before Alice’s fall.

1. The Looking-Glass Wars.

Frank Beddor’s “The Looking-Glass Wars” Trilogy is, without a doubt, my favorite book based on the “Alice” stories. It’s another dark reimagining of Wonderland that, on the surface, has the same basic formula “Unbirthday” and so many other stories have, but the way it interprets the world and the characters is totally its own, and wonderfully creative. The premise of “The Looking-Glass Wars” is that the story we all know and love so well is a boldfaced lie: the tale begins when Alyss Heart - the Princess of Wonderland, rightful heir to the throne - has her parents killed and kingdom usurped by her evil Aunt Redd. With the aid of Hatter Madigan, her loyal bodyguard, Alyss escapes through the Pool of Tears to our world…but because of some problems in-transit, Hatter is thrown all the way into France, while Alyss ends up in a slum in England. She is eventually taken in by the Liddell family, and meets Charles Dodgson, who writes a story inspired by the “wild fantasies” she tells him about. This story, of course, becomes the “Alice in Wonderland” we all know and love today. As time goes on, Alice forgets her old life and world entirely…until she’s finally rediscovered by her people, and brought back (along with Hatter M.) to Wonderland, to join the resistance and take back the crown from her traitorous aunt. In essence, the first book is “The Lion King” but with a Wonderland motif…but that’s only where the story starts, as the book would have two sequels, and not one, but TWO spin-off comic book series. I love the imagination and unique perspective Beddor’s books have, and the way it reinterprets classic characters. Some of them - like Aunt Redd, Bibwit Harte, and Blue the Caterpillar - feel very much like the Wonderlandian characters we all know and love, just a bit darker than usual. Others - like The Cat, Hatter Madigan, and Dodge Anders (Alice’s love interest, based on the Dodo, of all characters) - are radically different from the ones we know and love, but that’s kind of the point. The way the books mesh fantasy and history, tradition and new ideas, and so on really is one-of-a-kind, and it’s by far one of my favorite takes on “Alice” in general, and one that I wish more people knew about. I would love to see these books adapted to TV or cinema, or even to video games. Until that day, the stories stand on their own well enough. Admittedly, I’m not a huge fan of the comic book spinoffs I mentioned, but the original novels are truly fantastic. Read this trilogy as soon as you can.

[ebp-brain]

the wolfstar fandom and the problem of gender policing

To begin with: some gay men are femme, and that’s okay. Some are not, and that’s also okay. When someone is telling you that only a certain gender presentation is allowed from a fictional character, that’s not activism or advocacy; that’s gender policing. Even if you’re a woman or nonbinary person writing about cis gay men, it’s still gender policing—you are allowed to explore the full range of gender and sexuality in your own life and art. It’s easy to be taken in by statements on Tumblr about How To Write Good Queer Representation, because we want to be good people, and we understand that the language we use and the stories we tell are important. But our desire to be good people can be manipulated until we don’t recognize that we are participating in harmful behavior, or that we are being impacted by bullying.

If you’re in the Wolfstar fandom and you’re feeling alienated, lonely, confused, hurt, or angry because of things you’ve been hearing about what Sirius’ gender presentation “should” look like: you are not alone. There has been a longstanding problem in this fandom (for at least two years as of early 2021) with some vocal, active, popular fan writers telling other people how they should depict Sirius’ and Remus’—especially Sirius’—relationship to gender and sexuality. Generally, they suggest that depicting gay men as femme or feminine is homophobic. In particular, they say that writing/drawing Sirius as femme, feminine, flamboyant, short, “whiny,” or a sub or bottom is Bad. The logic is that because there’s a stereotype about gay men being feminine, all depictions of feminine gay men are homophobic. Because these voices are so loud and have such intense, aggressive support, it is easy to feel that you are Bad if you disagree with them, or to think that you’re alone in your disagreement. You’re not.

It’s important to recognize that this group of people is engaging in bullying. Not “wank,” not “discourse,” not “drama”—bullying. When you see them targeting other people’s work, it may seem like a petty personal dispute, or on the other hand like a legitimate conversation about gender and sexuality; it is neither. These folks are friendly, welcoming, and supportive right up until the moment someone disagrees with them—and then they attack that person and demand an apology. Because they use the language of social justice, and because they’re only antagonistic to people who question them openly, it’s easy to think they’re courageously protecting vulnerable people and standing up for what’s Right. But they aren’t. They are using their own identities and feelings to dictate how everyone else should behave while disregarding other people’s identities and feelings.

They claim that Sirius shouldn’t be written as “stereotypically gay” (i.e. feminine) because it hurts gay men; they claim that they are fighting homophobia. What they are really doing is gender policing. Awhile back, they started off by saying “Sirius shouldn’t always be feminine or always bottom in all fic.” Sure, true enough. But then it became “Sirius should never be feminine and never bottom.” And then it became “Sirius should never be short and whiny” (because those are apparently feminine traits). And now it seems to be “no one should ever depict cis gay men as feminine.” Allegedly because that’s “stereotyping,” but in practice this idea shames femme gay men, nonbinary femme folks, and any trans men who can’t or don’t want to present as masculine. It is gender policing disguised with social justice language.

Here are some red flags to look out for in the Wolfstar fandom—phrases that signal that you might be reading something that’s participating in gender policing, even if it doesn’t seem like it on the surface. They include:

“short, whiny Sirius”;

“let Sirius top”

“stereotypical gay man” (in the context of men being written as femme, not in the context of like…shitty mass media representation from the 90s)

“let men be men”

“women writing m/m” used in a derogatory way

and a couple that seem totally innocuous, even good, but mean something different in this context, like:

“being gay shouldn’t be your whole personality”

“topping or bottoming shouldn’t be your whole personality”

I’ve heard quite a few people talk about their feelings of isolation, confusion, self-doubt, frustration, and shame as a result of the bullying that’s been happening over the past few years in this fandom. Lots of people have left Wolfstar or Tumblr because of it. The good news is that a lot of Wolfstar folks are still out there: much of the fandom is flourishing on Discord, on Ao3, and in private messages. You can find your people! They’re the ones who actually listen respectfully to what you say, don’t shame you for mistakes or disagreements, and practice kindness and care.

And please look out for yourself. Try to recognize when your feelings of shame or guilt are a result of coming into contact with bullying and manipulation. Try not to accidentally spread transphobic and effeminophobic (anti-feminine) ideas and language; really think through what a post is saying before liking or reblogging it. And if you’re feeling hurt by what’s been said about gender expression within this fandom, know that you have lots of support and solidarity. We’re still around—we’re still around, and we love all your gender-related headcanons: we love a burly bearded biker Sirius; we love a five-feet-in-socks Sirius with a tendency towards dramatic temper tantrums; we love Sirius in lipstick and Sirius in crop tops and Sirius in ripped jeans. We love power bottom Sirius and ace Sirius and dom Sirius in high heels and Sirius who doesn’t care about how he has sex as long as it’s with Remus. We love Sirius who thinks being a trans man is the most important part of who he is and Sirius who thinks being a trans man is simply a basic fact of life. We love your fics and art and posts that explore your own weird complicated messy queer relationship to gender and sexuality. Of course we do. <3

(Also: I’ve got Big Anxiety and may or may not respond to comments on this post. I definitely will not respond to comments purposely misrepresenting my argument. I feel no particular need to defend myself; everyone can decide for themselves whether they think what I say is valid, and if I’m silent in response to criticism it’s not because I can’t think of a solid response—it’s because I don’t think responding is going to help myself or anyone else have a better experience on Tumblr and in this fandom. I’ll try to answer genuine, in-good-faith questions if I have the wherewithal to do so, and if you want to just message me and chat or say hi or share headcanons, I’d love that!)

[hermette-historian]

The Writing Process: Joe Hills

It’s been awhile since I’ve done a long form analysis essay, but I was privy to a video this evening that I thought deserved one. Let’s talk about Joe Hills, as an opinionated intellectual and as writer.

We all know about the legendary Joe Hills Writes Hermitcraft Fanfiction series, yes? I’ve talked about that on here a few times and it crops up time and again every time a fan comes across it. We’ve talked about how hilarious those videos are, how they represent a caricature of the crossover genre of 2012 fanfiction, etc. As much as I love that series, we are not here to talk about it at large today.

Just before Halloween of that same year, Joe made another video in the same format as the preceding two-Entitled The Ghosts of Col. Void RAF (Ret.), the book was spun of a very different thread. The content of the work is not super important to this particular angle (I could try to evaluate the historical context because I feel like there’s something there but quite honestly I’m too tired for that much outside research), but it contains some potentially triggering things so in case I forget to catch myself mentioning one I’m going to cut it here.

This video, In Joe’s own words, is an “unfiltered version of his brain”. Whether he intended it or not, it showcases his sincere creative process from beginning to end, and at least to me proves that like many highly educated people, his biggest creative vices are those of his own lack of ignorance. 

Joe hardly ever goes into anything knowing what exactly it is that he wants out of it, and nowhere is that more evidenced than in this thirty-minute, uncut, painstaking writing process. It started out as a genuinely scary ghost story half rooted in fan fiction about some fictional relative of Xisuma’s having a terrifying, ghostly encounter while stationed in Palestine that left him scarred for life, and quickly went off the rails into the same improvisational comedy territory as the other fanfictions while having absolutely nothing to do with Hermitcraft. This clearly happened because comedy involving big words, dramatic repetition, and run-on sentences is where Joe is most comfortable on camera-that’s one thing that hasn’t changed. He realized he was in way over his head trying to write something serious on camera, and unconsciously veered back into his comfort zone.

This all transpires within the first ten minutes-then something really interesting happens. As soon as Joe realizes that he’s starting to write comedy again, he gets frustrated with himself. He definitely tries to keep it together, but anyone that’s ever seen Joe genuinely upset will pick up on the shift in his tone and the pacing of his voice right away. So what does he do? He turns it into an educational moment. While he pulls himself together and musters the courage to keep going, he talks to the camera about how important it is to be realistic about one’s creative abilities while also encouraging yourself to keep going. My favorite quote by far is “ It’s fine to believe you’re a failure, but believing you always will be one is unacceptable”. 

Joe spends the rest of the video in a quick-rinse cycle with his own self-critical tendencies, just desperately trying to finish the story in a semi-serious manner while keeping the interest of the audience and the length of the video in mind. It’s exhausting! Writing a sentence or two, berating himself for incorrect continuity, bad sentence structure, clichés, any or all of the above, backspacing it all, only to write a very similar sentence and call it good enough to move on. Once or twice, he even raised his voice and snapped at himself in the camera’s fourth wall. By the time he’s done, he doesn’t even read it back out loud before calling it a day. 

The book wasn’t bad. In fact from a purely English perspective, by the time he was done yelling at himself to be better it was pretty much perfect. But that all culminates in what I find super interesting (and I feel relatable to a lot of us): he got so caught up in what he had been taught was the “correct” way of doing things, concepts that have been drilled into all of our heads by virtue of being taught to write well, that he started to forget the purpose of the writing and the bigger picture of the entertainment. In the end I feel that mindset is what killed the funny little series-if there’s anything that Joe will take too seriously to do it in an entertaining way, it’s words.

[shirophantomvox]

I need to get something off my chest….

Ok, let me preface this post by saying I know I am going to ruffle some feathers in this post and that’s ok. A few of you (thank you) have been questioning why I haven’t been posting as much and I have to be honest. I am beginning to run out of ideas to write about since the Hxh and Voltron fandoms are out of touch and both are becoming toxic as hell. I’ve also been received a lot of stupid criticism (not really critics but stupid opinions that don’t matter) I expect fandoms to be toxic (which is sad as fuck) but some of you act as if you have no fucking life at all. Do not send me anon messages that are non-analytical because I will clown you. To start off this rant, I would like to address issue #1.

Some of you have been sending me anonymous messages about how I depict Hisoka, how I write about him and so on. I’ve seen other people do the same thing to certain artists and writers. I want to make something PERFECTLY clear. In my fan-fictions, my drawings, or whatever the fuck I choose to do, I can depict him anyway I WANT.

I can change his skin tone if I want.

I can make him fall madly in love with my OC if I want.

I can make him an all star football player if I want

I can dress him in a crop top and jeans if I want.

Shit, I can make him wear a jogging pants and a hoodie or in boxers if I want.

With this part ⬆️, I haven’t seen this on Tumblr per say but I have seen it on Twitter.

It is my “world” and my depiction, I can do ANYTHING I want.

Some of you feel the need to harass other STRANGERS on the internet about how they draw Hisoka and his character so differently than the show. Isn’t that the point of having an imagination? Some of you fly off the handle because someone dare says that they do not like your art or whatever. Freedom of speech exists! And if you’re constantly spamming someone because they disliked your artwork…? Get a fucking life. How do you expect to work in animation studios or write for one if you can’t take criticism?

Shipping was a fun aspect for me once I began to embrace my love for anime but now it's a whole thing that makes me angry. I’ll say this once and no more. If someone wants to ship Hisoka and Machi, LET THEM. If someone wants to ship Hisoka and Illumi, Let them. If someone wants to ship LANCE and ALLURA, LET THEM. FYI, some of y’all’s hatred towards Lance and Allura isn’t setting right with me and feels like borderline racism. For those of you that have this hatred towards Allura without reasonable evidence and claims that she’s racist you need to touch grass. For the life of me, you “stans” not fans have been showing your asses for so long it makes me sick. Some of you have gone to far out of your way to threaten voice actors because your ship wasn’t canon. Some of you on this website have such toxic views and hate towards Allurance it makes me wonder do you think they’re not compatible or are you racist? It’s ok to dislike a ship but y’all be expressing that you DESPERATELY HATE Allurance. I saw a TikTok video about why shows like Voltron destroyed itself: Link 1 and Link 2 (about Animal Crossing hairstyles).

Let people do what they want. I see most of you do not have a life at all and probably cannot function in everyday society if you sit on the internet and say “…..you need to go to therapy if you ship Hisoka and Machi.” I’ve seen bullshit like this. And yes, If you’re triggered, I’m talking about you. I think the sad part about it is the people doing this are young-to grown adults. Shouldn’t you be working? Or in School? Or, IDK, figuring out the rest of your life? Because of this, I only support canon relationships. If the context clues and evidence provides, I’ll ship them.

There are some ships I do not like but guess what? Do I go out of my way to harass people who ship something I don’t? NO. Maybe it’s because I actually have a life 🤔. I forget that most of you are keyboard warriors and wouldn’t ever engage in half of the shit you do online.

Lastly, stop telling black cosplayers that they cannot cosplay as (ex: Sailor Moon) because they’re black. Um, excuse me? I’ve seen countless TikTok videos where Black women especially get told that they can’t cosplay as a certain character because the character isn’t black. Most of you that partake in this behavior are NOT allies to POC and are just as racist as your grandfathers. If you are guilty of being racist towards ANYONE in this community, you need to fucking excuse yourself and leave, disrespectfully.

Ok, I am done. Now that I’ve got this off my chest, I will hopefully be posting soon.

[secretlysheikah]

The Blood moon incident:

So I have always wanted to write a fan fiction but have always talked myself out of it. But not anymore. I have fully jumped down the Linked universe rabbit hole and I have been inspired to contribute!

I may not be the best writer but I’m sure as hell gonna try. I’ve been reading a lot of fan fictions in the #Linkeduniverse hashtag and I have been inspired to make my own fan fiction. please be gentle lol. 

Don’t feel like reading on tumblr? Check out my A03

I want to make sure I’m clear when I say I do not claim the linked universe as my own. It actually belongs to the amazing @jojo56830 and I hope I do the linked universe some justice.

TW: fighting, some injury and a sprinkle of angst. Please enjoy!

Start Here:

Wild was used to being on his own. Deep down he knew he deserved every lonely night, every new battle wound, every near death experience. He wasn’t used to fighting in a group either which didn’t help. Maybe that was why he was so reckless still, that’s what he told himself anyways.

Wild was always launching in head first in every encounter with the various monsters that had begun to crop up in their travels across the different eras of Hyrule. Needless to say he was a wild card and all the other Links quickly found out about his apparent death wish and Wild was regularly told off for it.

It’s not like he didn’t care, he did cared a great deal, but there was always something driving him forward into harms way. There was small part of him that liked the feeling of chaos that sang through his veins as he leapt into the fray heedless of the possible injuries he might receive for his foolishness. There was even a smaller, darker part of him that hoped he would get hurt, he deserved it after all.

“You need to be more careful Cub” Twilight admonished as he wrapped up Wild’s arm with a bandage. Wild had bowed to his instincts once again, throwing himself head long into a fight headless of the others calls.

It all started as the group had been making their way through Wild’s Hyrule, they heard the sound of fighting and cries for help in the distance. Without a second of thought Wild had split from the group and ran right into a fight between a pair of travelers and small group of bokoblins. He managed to kill the first bokoblin that was about to strike one of the travelers down, a few swipes with his sword and the creature was no more. However he was caught off guard by the second bokoblin as it launched itself at him from the side and knocked him off his feet. The pair had began to grapple on the ground, the bokoblin gaining the upper hand as it pinned him to the dirt. The beast had tried to force the blade into Wild’s chest. Wild had blocked it with his arm and was almost about to force the creature off when Time had come hurtling in tackling, the bokoblin and killing it. Wild was left panting on the ground, arm bleeding while listening to the others finishing off the last of the beasts around him.

“I know I need to be more careful, but I didn’t really have a choice, those bokoblins were about to kill those people” Wild groused and gritted his teeth as Twilight tugged on the bandage harder then he thought was necessary. Wild made a point of not saying anything and continued to look at the other heroes as they chatted amongst themselves. Although he looked away quickly when he saw Time look over. He didn’t want to see his glare of disapproval when he already knew he was up for a lecture… again.

“I just don’t understand why, why do you keep throwing yourself into these situations?” Twilight sighed but Wild only shrugged, none of them could really understand and Wild didn’t know how to properly explain either which just frustrated him more.

“I couldn’t just stand there and wait, I couldn’t…” Wild started and then let out a frustrated sigh. Twilight looked at him quizzically tilting his head and nudging him gently to continue. Wild just shook his head and stood up. There was nothing he could say right now.  His mind was already treading down a path he was all too familiar with.

‘Maybe I’ll find the words later’ he thought to himself and walked back to the group. He heard Twilight stand up as well, trotting after him and making a noise like he wanted to continue the conversation but was cut off by Legend.

“Well look who it is! It’s our little savage beast! How are you doing?” Wild just shrugged and forced a smile fiddling with the bandage on his arm.

“I’m doing alright, got my arm patched up” to prove it he lifted his arm with the pristine bandage on it, though it looked like it was already starting to spot through with blood. The healing potion was not quite strong enough to heal the gash quickly but it would do.

Legend rolled his eyes “you think you’re ever gonna stop trying to get yourself killed?” He quipped “I know Warriors is annoying but that’s no reason to end it all” there was a cry of protest from across the group and Wild winced a little and gave a chuckle and a noncommittal shrug.

He felt a hand come down on his shoulder and Wild tensed with the sudden contact. He looked up to see Time standing next to him. Legend’s eyes went large and he quickly spun on his heels and walked away swiftly when he saw the thunderous look on Time’s face. ‘Here we go’ Wild thought in defeat as he was lead a little ways away from the group.

“What on earth were you thinking? You could have been killed! Why didn’t you wait for the rest of us?” Time scolded as he poked his finger at Wild’s chest. Wild couldn’t look at him, the fury in his words enough to make him mute with anger and shame. “Well?” Time prodded waiting for his response.

“I wasn’t thinking” he lied and looked at the ground hot eyed and fuming.

“That’s a lie and I know it.” Time continued still angry but trying his level best to swallow his fury. The truth was watching Wild get pinned down by that beast chilled Time to his core. He shuddered to think what would have happened if he wasn’t fast enough to save him. Maybe that’s why he felt so angry.

“Fine, you want the truth? Here’s the truth” Wild began a sudden swell of anger making him bold.

“I didn’t want to wait, if I would have waited those people would have died and I won’t have that. Not while I’m able to save them, and certainly not on someone else’s time frame.” Wild hissed, looking at Time straight in the eyes, his body trembling as if he was about to throw a punch.

“I stepped in to do my Goddess damned job and if that’s not what you want to hear than that’s too bad” Wild all but yelled, and all at once angry tears threatened to spill.

Time blinked at him. That was most Wild had ever said in one sitting, and the pure rage that came from him was enough to stop Time in his tracks. Wild was usually calmer and easy going. He acknowledging his reckless acts as reckless and then moved past it with a easy apology and the promise to be better in the future. Which to Wild’s credit was true, he was adapting to fighting with a group very well, picking up on the other’s fighting styles and adapting his own style based on what was necessary for a given fight. He was still reckless at times but it was to be expected given the environment Wild had to work in. Time’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he found his words.

“But that doesn’t, but that won’t” he tried and failed to get the words out, but he found he lost his train of thought in the face of Wild’s unusual rage. In any case Wild was too angry to let him continue.

“I already failed these people once, and as long as I breathe I won’t let it happen again. So if you have a problem with that then feel free to.. to…” Wild gave a cry of frustration and threw his hands up. Clearly too mad to think properly. Wild knew it wasn’t Time he was truly angry at, not really. But with the mist of rage clouding his thoughts he couldn’t see a safe way out of the conversation without saying something he would truly regret. He had to get away, had to clear his head before he did something stupid.

“I’m going to scout ahead” Wild growled.

“We decided to camp for the night, it’s getting dark and there’s no point to stumbling around the woods” Time said not knowing how to properly respond to Wild’s outburst.

“Then I’m going to patrol the area, I’ll be back later” Wild hissed and spun around and stalked off into the trees leaving a concerned group of heroes to look on after him.

“What was that about?” Twilight asked when Time made his way back to the group. Time shook his head trying to get his thoughts in order and motioned Twilight to follow him away from curious ears. Twilight’s concerned deepened as he followed his mentor to the edge of the clearing.

“Something is up with cub, that was the angriest I have ever seen him.” Time started and Twilight hummed in agreement. He and much of the others had heard part of the argument earlier but didn’t have enough information to really understand what had transpired. But Twilight could agree that Wild’s outburst was out of character for the newest hero. Wild tended to be more pensive, usually sinking into himself and his thoughts while clamming up and not talking to anyone for a while.

“That is odd, Usually we would see that kind of rage coming from Legend, but from cub? You’re right something is up. Do you think I should go talk to him?” Twilight asked and Time hummed in thought eventually coming to a decision.

“That might be for the best, even if you don’t talk to him I don’t think it would be a bad idea to keep an eye on him” Twilight nodded and looked around to the milling crowd of nosey heroes. Time glanced over to them as well before placing a hand on Twilight’s arm.

“You go, I’ll get these guys working on setting up camp for the night. Don’t lose track of our wayward champion” Time said patting his arm before heading back to the group to field questions and to get camp set up.

“Shouldn’t someone go out with him? Make sure he’s safe?” Wind asked quietly. Time only shook his head.

“Twilight is going to and make sure nothing happens to him. While he does that we’re going to set up for the night. It’s going to be dark before we know it” Time said and began dividing up the work amongst the remaining six hero’s. Time gazed into the woods then thoughts heavy on his mind.

*************************************************

Wild didn’t know how long he’d been out at this point but he knows it was a while. His rage had him stomping through the under brush slashing his sword left and right as he cut through underbrush that was in his way. Then slowly his anger sifted away leaving darker thoughts behind to occupy his mind. Soon he was just walking through the forest not processing anything but his own black thoughts that made him feel small and alone. Then he just stopped where he was, and plopped down under a large tree and curled up on himself. He pulled his knees to his chest and put his head down and tried to control his breathing but it was proving difficult under the weight of his suffocating thoughts. He had to get himself under control again, but it was hard. His mind was just a boiling pot of self hatred and hopelessness. His body ached, his arm throbbed and his soul for all the turmoil he felt swirling inside was somehow painfully hollow.

Just as he was about to submit to his own melancholy he heard rustling. His head shot up his body lurching to a standing position, his hand flew to his sword and drew his blade. His breath quickened as he looked around. When did it get so dark? Then another rustle and a voice came from the darkness ahead of him.

“Hey, hey it’s just me cub.” Twilight called out as he appeared from the underbrush hands held in front of him in submission. Wild let out a shaky breath and sheathed his sword again.

“I was just looking for you, you’ve been gone for a little while” Twilight said soothingly. It was a half lie, he’d been following him for a couple hours as Wild circled the camp in ever largening circles. Twilight had followed quietly not wanting to disturb him If he didn’t have to. But seeing him curl up on himself like that had set off alarm bells in his mind and he couldn’t just sit idly by and watch his friend suffer alone. Wild nodded and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He looked tired. Twilight motioned for him to sit and went to sit next to him.

“So what happened back there? I have never seen you that angry before” Twilight asked plucking up a stick from the ground and began to idly pull the bark off of it. Wild winced a little at the memory and sighed.

“I'm sorry, I don’t know what happened. One minute I was getting ready to eat crow and then the next…” Wild trailed off hands gesturing weakly in front of him. Twilight nodded but said nothing waiting for him to continue.

“Time was just so mad, yelling at me about throwing myself into danger. But he doesn’t understand. He can’t understand.” Wild said with a hitch in his voice. Twilight looked at him then, eyes full of concern.

“What do you mean he couldn’t understand? He’s usually pretty good with that kind of thing” Twilight said trying to get the other boy to open up more. Wild only grunted and rubbed his eyes again. A motion that Twilight had begin to attribute to Wild when he was about to stop talking. Twilight nudged him then motioning Wild to continue his thought. Wild gave a shaky sigh and looked into the dark woods.

“I failed, and because of that, the Hyrule I knew was destroyed, my friends the other champions were killed and…” Wild gave a half strangled cry and worked his fists into his eyes trying to force the tears back with little luck.

“I am the hero that came too late, how can I even look the others in the eye and claim that I’m worthy to stand with them?” Wild whispered head leaning back against the tree staring at the sky through the limbs of the tree letting his tears silently overflow. It was a lovely night Wild thought to himself. The clouds flowed by smoothly and the stars twinkled in the pinkish mood light. Twilight nodded quietly gathering his thoughts seeing as the other was clearly done talking.

“Well, I think you’re wrong.” Twilight said and Wild gave him a withering look and opened his mouth to protest but Twilight cut him off.

“You’re not a hero who failed or came too late. I think you’re being too hard on yourself.” Twilight began, looking at his protégé with a stern look before continuing.

“What happened all those years ago was simply out of your control but you didn’t let that stop you. You fought until you couldn’t anymore and I think that alone makes you a legendary hero” Twilight paused looking at Wild who had slowly relaxed, leaning against the tree with one leg stretched out in front of him. Wild still said nothing and Twilight continued.

“And that isn’t even considering your reappearance and subsequent destruction of Calamity Gannon.” Twilight paused again and looked over to Wild. His eyes blinked rapidly against a shimmer of tears. Twilight smiled at him then and put a hand on Wild’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, you don’t deserve that.” Twilight said looking into Wild’s eyes making sure the other heard him and understood.

“And anyways if you keep tearing yourself down like that I promise I won’t be the only one kicking your ass until you stop” Twilight finished and got a wobbly smile out of Wild.

“Fair enough” Wild sighed mopping his face with his bandaged arm.

“I have to apologize to the old man, he didn’t deserve my anger. I feel awful that I tore into him like that. You think he’ll forgive me?” Wild asked and it was Twilights turn to chuckle.

“I think… he’ll be…” Twilight trailed off looking around them curiously. There were little sparkles of red lights floating around them.

“Those are weird looking fire flies.” He commented watching as they seemed to get bigger as the seconds wore on. Wild tensed next to him.

“Oh sweet Hylia no, not a blood moon” Wild whispered as he launched himself to his feet and began to look around frantically at the sparks of light and the quickly reddening sky. Twilight noticing his companion’s agitation stood quickly as well.

“What’s a blood moon? What's happening?” Twilight asked quickly as he followed closely behind Wild as he began to sprint towards the camp.

“Blood moon happens every once in a while and when it does all the monsters that were slain come back into existence.” Wild panted out as he leaped over boulders and darted in between trees.

“It happened more often when calamity Gannon was around, it was Ganon's way of keeping a choke hold on Hyrule. It has been less frequent lately but it still happens and now…” Wild trailed off as they heard shouts of surprise in the distance and the the sound of metal ringing against metal. Wild poured on the speed and Twilight lost sight of his protégé as he zipped around more trees and bushes.

“Wait!” Twilight shouted but it was too late. Wild had shot off into the forest and left him in the dust. There was a sound of a bomb exploding in the distance and shouts of surprise mingled with the sound of monster's battle cries close by. Twilight began to run even faster, trying to find footing in a forest that wasn’t his. He prayed desperately that he would make it in time to help save his friends before it was too late.

*************************************************

There was a lot of things racing through Wild’s mind as he rushed head long towards the camp. One thought that spoke the loudest in his brain was how could he have forgotten to tell the others about the blood moon? He silently cursed himself for letting it slip from his mind. It wasn’t often they ended up in his Hyrule, and through out the months of traveling together they had yet to run into this problem.

But still he mentally chided himself for not mentioning it. The sound of fighting grew louder and as he reached the edge of the camp and his heart nearly stopped as he took in the scene in a matter of seconds.

There were way too many monsters. At most there should have been three bokoblins, mainly the ones they killed that afternoon. However now there appeared to be two black moblins, a couple of red bokoblins and three black bokoblins

Where had the others come from? It didn’t make sense. He saw Hyrule ducking a wild sword swipe from one of the black bokoblins. Legend was at his back shield raised desperately against the other black bokoblin as it swung a heavy Boko bat down at his head.

Time was squaring off against one of the moblins near the far end of the camp. Time’s heavy claymore mid swipe as the creature stumbled back in an attempt to dodge the blow.

Warriors was surrounded by the two red bokoblins slashing at one of the monsters while shielding his other side from the other monster’s attack.

Then his eyes fell on the center of the camp, near the fire Wind was standing over top of a wounded Four, defending him against the last black bokoblin that was trying to run Four threw with it’s spear. That’s when Wild’s eyes snapped to the last monster.

The other moblin was sneaking up behind Wind and Four, obviously seeing an opportunity for an attack. It had it’s dragonbone club raised high for a devastating blow against the back of Four’s head, intent on smashing him flat. This was where Wild was going to launch his attack.

Slate in hand Wild quickly selected a bomb and threw it down just in front of him. Then he grabbed his shield and flipped forward positioning the shield between himself and the bomb. Just as he was about to land he activated the bomb launching himself high into the air and pulled out his bow, Wild felt the world slow to a crawl as he knocked an arrow and aimed at the startled moblin.

Wild loosed the arrow and it landed square in the forehead of the monster throwing it off balance. It’s head rocked back from the force of the blow and black blood sprayed satisfyingly from the wound. Quickly Wild threw his feet forward as he fell planting his feet in the center of the monster’s chest driving it back first, right on to the fire.

There was a bellow of pain from the moblin as it clutched it’s face and writhed in the fire. Wild skidded to halt and whipped around taking aim once again and shot the black bokoblin  in the ear. The force of the arrow sent the bokoblin flying to the side and it flopped on the ground like a puppet with it’s strings cut. The moblin gave a final cry as it exploded in to black smoke leaving a mess of black blood to stain the area where it had been. The black bokoblin twitched and gave a mournful cry and quickly followed suit.

Then suddenly the world slammed back into motion.  

Wind turned quickly and fell to Four’s side looking at his injuries and trying to find out how to help. It looked as though Four had taken a spear thrust to the shoulder. His arm hung limply at his side and his tunic was covered with red.

“Are you guys okay?” Wild called out to them and Four looked at him with a disgusted look.

“Yeah, I’m just peachy” He quipped and then cried out as Wind shoved a crumpled up shirt against his shoulder.

“Dammit! That hurt” Four swore, clutching his shoulder.

“that better not be my shirt you’re using” Four groused and Wind rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s warriors” Wind said as he held pressure to the wound. There was a cry of rage and Wild looked over to warriors who had managed to kill one of the bokoblins and was now facing off against the other.

“Hey! That’s.. My… Nicer… Tunic!” He yelled over to them each word emphasized by a blow of his sword against the bokoblin’s shield.

Satisfied that Wind and Four were no longer in immediate danger Wild turned his attention to Hyrule and Legend. Hyrule was still dodging the monsters ferocious blows. Wild could see that Hyrule was slowing down, his reaction times barely enough to keep a head of the enraged monster’s sword swipes.

The bokoblin gave a sudden cry and rushed forward sword swiping to the side aiming to decapitate Hyrule. Hyrule stumbled back narrowly avoiding losing his head as the sword slashed across his cheek just below his right eye.

Blood was quick to cover the lower part of Hyrule’s face and he landed hard on his back. Legend cried out about to twist and cover Hyrule with his shield but Wild was quicker. In two quick strides Wild had moved between the bokoblin and Hyrule, Wild’s sword came up and blocked the monster’s sword from landing a final hit.

The bokoblin gave another battle cry is it forced down on it’s blade trying to break the block. Wild gave a grunt of effort and kicked out, hard, foot connecting with the bokoblin’s chest and forcing it back. Wild was breathing heavily now with the exertion and he readied his sword again. The bokoblin bobbed it’s head turning this way and that looking for all the world like it was thinking. Then without preamble it turned and ran off into the forest. There were confused shouts as the battle suddenly changed. The two remaining bokoblins suddenly stopped what they were doing, almost going ridged before they too ran from the camp sight.

“Don’t let them escape! There’s too much risk for another attack” Warriors cried out giving chase to the retreating monsters. Legend nodded and followed quickly having enough time to grab his sword and run out of the camp in hot pursuit.

There was a loud cry then making Wild whip his head to the side to see Time hurtling his way after being struck by the Moblin’s bat. Time collided with Wild throwing them both into a tree. Wild smacked his head hard against the trunk and he could feel blood trickling through his hair and soaking his collar. The world was tilting at odd angles darkness creeping in at the corners. Time was unconscious a bruise already forming across his cheek, his head lolling from side to side as Wild struggled under his weight.

The moblin ran over quickly to the downed pair ignoring the others completely, intent on finishing what it had started. Wild could barely breathe under Time’s weight as he struggled to free himself to defend against the monster. The moblin reached them quickly and raised its bat once again ready to strike.

Seeing no way out, Wild wrapped himself as best he could over top of Time to shield him. There were cries of alarm, the other hero’s were either too slow to react or too injured to move quickly enough to help. Wild braced himself for the blow only to hear a loud snarl from behind him. There was the crash of branches and a wolf came hurtling out from in between the trees, latching onto the arm of the moblin and promptly ripping the arm to shreds forcing the beast to drop the bat.

There was a cry of rage as the wolf landed and shot beneath the behemoth and bit at it's ankles. The monster stumbled around kicking wildly as it tried to stomp on the wolf that was deviling it until there was a twang of a bow string and an arrow appeared in its eye. The moblin gave an angry howl as it fell to the ground too damaged to continue and burst into black smoke and blood, leaving greasy black smear on the ground where it had fallen.

Wild looked around in a semi fogged state as he looked for who shot the arrow, seeing a slightly pale Sky coming from under a tree branch. Sky was still holding his bow, loaded with another arrow as he scanned the camp site looking for more monsters. Seeing none he ran over to the tangled Wild and Time and helped lift the unconscious man off of Wild. Twilight now out of wolf form was quick to follow, first looking over Time to assess his injuries then moving over to Wild to do the same. Hyrule quickly trotted over to lend a hand digging around his pack to find the appropriate healing items.

Hyrule’s face was cleaned up for the most part. He had a bandage soaked with a healing potion placed on the cut under his eye but there was still small smears of blood under his chin from where he missed it with a cloth.

“S’ows the old man?” Wild said and was surprised by the slight slur to he speech. He must have hit against the tree harder than he thought. He still saw black at the edges of his vision and the world still spun slightly. Twilight looked at him, concern lacing his words.

“He’ll be fine cub, he’ll have one hell of a headache when he comes round I’m sure. Hyrule is looking at him now, but I’m a little more worried about you” Twilight fussed looking at the back of Wild’s head and making him follow his finger back and forth with his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure you have a concussion” Twilight said grabbing Wild’s head again to tilt it down and prod at the cut and subsequent bump on the back of his head. Wild hissed in pain and struggled weakly to no avail. Twilight lifted the collar of his tunic and whistled.

“Well that’s one hell of a bruise you got started. How hard did you hit the tree?”

“Hard enough” Wild shrugged and immediately regretted it. He let out a groan and rested his head back against the tree willing for the spinning to stop. He heard Twilight shift beside him and felt Hyrule take his place at his shoulder. There was another minute or two of fussing as Hyrule moved his head this was and that and looked at his pupils, assessing the damage for himself. Wild heard bottles shift as Hyrule dug through his bag to find a potion. There was a satisfied ‘aha’ when Hyrule found what he was looking for and he felt the bottle being forced in to his hand.

“Tell me the truth ‘rule, will I ever play the harp again?” Wild asked as he uncorked the bottle and sipped at the contents with a grimace. There was a confused pause and then a sigh from Twilight as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Did you even know how to play?” Twilight finally asked looking at Wild over his fingers.

“No, but I figured after enough head trauma the skill would finally emerge” Wild smiled around the lip of the bottle watching as his mentor put his face in his hands and sighed.

“You’re going to make me keel over with stress” he moaned and Wild laughed weakly until Hyrule stretched out a hand and smacked him lightly against the back of the head. Wild flinched in pain and rubbed the back of his head reproachfully but said nothing. The gash was healing and he was feeling a lot better. The group jumped when there was a strangled gasp from Time as he went to sit up and was forced back down by Hyrule.

“Don’t sit up by yourself just yet, you got a pretty good smack to your head and you could make yourself sick” Hyrule warned and Time gave a small nod of understanding, allowing Twilight and Hyrule to lift him up and prop him against the tree with Wild. Within minutes he too had a potion and was slowing sipping it. They sat like that for a couple minutes until a disgruntled Warriors and Legend came walking back into camp.

“We lost them in the woods, we're going to have have two people on watch tonight to make sure we don’t get surprised” Warriors said as he dropped down next to the fire looking around at the group. Legend stood by the edge of the camp looking out into the gloom.

“So what happened? I left to get water then all of the sudden I’m hearing yelling and on the way back to help I was nearly knocked over by some bokoblins running away with Warriors and Legend hot on their heels” Sky asked.

“What happened was we were all caught with our metaphorical pants down” Legend fumed and Warriors couldn’t help but agree.

“One moment we were sitting around waiting for you to come back with water for soup and the next the camp was packed with monsters and we were all scrambling to defend ourselves. No weapons, no armor to hand, it was a total shit show” Warriors explained.

“You did miss one hell of an entrance though, Wild came flying in like a bad ass. I’m pretty sure he used a bomb and launched himself into the middle of camp and took out a moblin!” Wind gushed excitedly bobbing up and down as he acted out that part of the story, though he was cut off by Wild who gave a shuddering gasp.

“I’m sorry, I should have warned you all about the blood moon” Wild whispered and the whole group looked over curiously.

“What’s a blood moon?” Sky ventured and Wild closed his eyes and took another shuttering breath attempting to compose his thoughts before explaining his fuck up.

“Blood moon, it happens every once in a while. The sky turns blood red when the moon is full and once slain monsters come back to life. It happened a lot more often before I…” Wild waved his hand in the air lamely before he continued “I think Ganon created the blood moon as a way to keep a hold of Hyrule while he was locked away with…” Wild petered our again not knowing how to continue so he just stared unblinkingly at the fire, waiting for the blow up and he wasn’t disappointed.

“what the fuck, why didn’t you mention this? Don’t you think that’s kind of fucking important?!?” Legend shouted and Wild couldn’t help but flinch. Guilt raked over him and made his gut clench.

“I’m sorry” was all Wild could get out before he was cut off again by Legend.

“You’re sorry? We could have all died! What were you thinking?” Legend was practically foaming at the mouth with rage. Wild could feel himself curling in on himself from the weight of what could have been cutting him to the quick. Shame made him mute and it was all he could do to raise his hands and try to sign out another apology.

“That’s enough, I think you’ve got your point across” Time said placing a hand over top of Wild’s hands forcing them down to stop him from apologizing anymore.

Legend took a few steps back clearly startled at his own outburst and rubbed his eyes. After taking a few deep breaths to try and cool down Legend looked back at Wild still hunched over and he glanced away guiltily noticing there was a tremble in Wild’s hands.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go off on you like that.” Legend muttered and the group was silent for a few minutes each of them processing the night’s events in their own minds.

“It doesn’t make sense” Wild muttered so quietly that even Time barely heard him.

“What was that?” Time questioned and Wild shook his head, a look of worry marring his scarred face.

“The blood moon recovers monsters where they were slain yes, but the one constant there is, is that it’s only the monsters that were slain in a particular spot, nothing extra. There should have only been what, three bokoblins at most? And yes I know that’s still bad.” He said quickly seeing the look on Legend’s face. There was a pregnant pause as everyone digested that bit of information.

“Then what was that? Why were there so many in camp?” Four asked the question that was flitting around everyone mind.

Wild could only shrug, a serious cast falling over his face as he looked around at the group of heroes.

“A rise in monster activity, not to mention the odd behavior, increased strength and the way they acted as though they were following commands. This does not bode well.” Warriors commented, the others nodding their heads in agreement.

“Truly odd indeed, we’ll have to consider our next steps carefully. For now everyone needs rest. Legend and Twilight would you be opposed taking first watch?” Time asked placing the empty bottle down next to him and standing with a stretch. They both shrugged and went to opposite sides of the camp taking up first watch. Everyone else started readying their bed rolls and Time tapped Wild gently on the shoulder and beckoned him to follow. Wild stood stiffly and followed him to an unoccupied part of camp. The noises of the others preparing for sleep became background noise to their discussion.

“Are you okay?” Time asked and Wild looked down and shrugged. Physically he was feeling a lot better, still sore but no longer dizzy although he had the distinct feeling that Time wasn’t asking about that.

“I’ll have none of that, it’s clear to me that you’re not okay” Time admonished gently and Wild had to force himself to look at Time in the eyes.

“I’m not alright, I should have warned you and I failed. I am truly sorry” Wild whispered his voice soft, his throat felt raw and tight. Time only shrugged and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Normally I would accept that answer, but Goddess what were you thinking” Time said gesturing to the others in the group. The shift in tone made Wild’s head snap up, a pang of fear racing through his thoughts.

Time stepped forward menacingly his hand once placed softly on his shoulder squeezing tightly making him cry out.

“Look at the blood on your hands, this was all your fault and all you can say is sorry?” Time scoffed shoving him roughly away making him stagger. Wild looked at his hands now sticky with drying blood. He started to hyperventilate, what was going on? Wild tried in vain to move his feet but found tree roots wrapping around his ankles holding him in place.

“Your failure and negligence could have killed us all” Time thundered out making Wild cover his ears in pain at how loud his voice was.

“Please, I’m sorry” Wild tried to say but was cut off with hysterical laughing. His eyes shot around to look at his traveling companions now all covered in blood, various horrendous wounds marring their skin as they stepped closer now, surrounding the pair. Their pale dead eyes staring as they pointed and accusing finger towards him.

“ you’ve killed us all” Twilight said stepping forward his blade pointed at Wild’s throat. Then they were all pointing their swords at him yelling and berating him for not warning them, for not saving them.

“Maybe the monster we were hunting was you all along, I mean you certainly look the part” Time said almost gently as he reared his sword back and…

Wild gave a strangled cry of alarm breathing heavily, he was vaguely aware of the hand shaking his shoulder and someone talking to him. He shuddered rubbing his face with his hands and felt a cold sweat and tears on his face. After a moment or two a hushed voice infiltrated his terrified stupor making him look around. To his surprise he saw a concerned Legend standing there hand still clasped on his shoulder.

“…Okay? Hello? Can you hear me?” Legend said shaking him gently again. Wild looked around the camp eyes wide as he counted sleeping forms, all present save for Twilight. There were no wounds, no blood just a dying fire and gentle snores. He took a deep breath, held it and let it go slowly before turning to Legend again.

“Wild, you’re scaring me, quit looking at me like you’ve just seen a ghost” Legend said voice soft. Legend always acted tough around the others, often coming across as rude and standoffish, but everyone knew it was just a front. Legend didn’t want to seem weak, even in a group of heroes who had the same spirit flowing through their veins just like him.

“S-sorry, I had a nightmare. I-I don’t even remember falling asleep” Wild stammered, his heart still pounding. Legend nodded his understanding.

“Where’s…” Wild started but legend cut him off

“He went out on a quick patrol, he should be back any minute” Wild nodded again closing his eyes for a minute. He felt Legend drop down next to him apparently deciding to stay close to make sure he was alright.

“When did I fall asleep?” He asked and Legend hummed in thought.

“Well you were explaining the blood moon, about how there shouldn’t have been that many monsters in camp. Then you kinda just drifted off. We figured it was thanks to the healing potion and the long day you had” Wild hummed in contemplation, he didn’t remember feeling tired, the transition from wakefulness to asleep was so smooth.

“Hey, I just wanted to apologize again. I lost my temper and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. We’ve all been stressed lately and I guess it just boiled over” Legend said quietly, avoiding The look Wild gave him. Wild stared at him, was this actually happening? Or was this another dream? Carefully Wild leaned over and poked the other’s shoulder. It was solid and Legend moved slightly with motion.

“What are you doing?” He asked when Wild moved his finger away.

“Checking to see if I’m still dreaming” Wild said in all seriousness which made the other purse his lips.

“You know there’s another way to check” Legend said as he reared back and punched Wild on the arm. There was a shock of pain that made Wild gasp and grab his arm.

“I guess you’re not dreaming, you smart ass” Legend said smirking a bit at Wild’s discomfort. There was another few minutes of silence where Wild contemplated telling Legend about his dream, but he was uncertain of how the other would react and in any case he really didn’t want to relive the nightmare right then.

“So are you alright, or do I have to keep sitting here?” Legend finally said trying to sound tough but he heard the caring in his voice.

“I think I’m alright, thank you Legend” Wild said and gave a slightly forced smile. Legend nodded and stood.

“Get some rest, You look like shit and watch is going to rotate soon.” Legend huffed and walked quietly away. Leaving Wild to his thoughts and a worrying tug of wrongness pulling at the corner of his mind.

[written-on-the-trees]

Yungblud Fan Fiction - The Witch Doctor, She Gave Me This Advice...

The Trees’ October 2020 Writing ChallengeDay 1/31

Prompt: Witch

Word-count: 1350 words

Content Warnings: none

Summary: Although he doesn't like to admit it, Dom is nervous about the big things that are happening in his life, so he visits a Witch to find out what his future may hold...

Dom was nervous.

  He was nervous about a lot of things: his new album doing well, the new podcast he was doing with BBC Radio 1, all the new eyes watching him now he was becoming more and more well-known…it was all absolutely terrifying. Exciting, but terrifying, which is how he found himself in his current situation: scuffing his feet on the front step of a non-descript house in a street in Camden, resisting the urge to look over his shoulders suspiciously while he waited for someone to answer the doorbell he’d just rung.

  Honestly, he’d never thought he’d find himself in this situation. He really wasn’t all that pleased that he had, either.

  The whole magic thing had always been an ‘option’, as his mother had frequently reminded him whenever he’d told her he was feeling nervous. Their family had always had a connection with the ‘other’ - the magical, the ethereal, the supernatural, whatever you wanted to call it. His great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather had helped save the life of a fairy when he was young, and the Fae had been friends of the Harrison family ever since…for a price. They would always appear when one of the family was in need, but - as they did with all humans - they would make sure to take something in return when they left. Their deals were weighted to benefit them, and they always had a high cost.

  Which was why Dom hadn’t called on the Fae for help.

  Instead, he’d come to a Witch…equally dangerous, but slightly less likely to try and trick him. Witches made their own deals, but it was usually for money rather than, like…his soul or his life of whatever.

  So Dom was nervous as fuck, about all the normal (or at least not supernatural) stuff in his life, and now also about meeting this Witch, because even if they weren’t as tricky as the Fae, Witches were still…

      …Utterly heart-stopping.

      A woman stood in front of Dom in the doorway, and he was pretty sure the whole world froze around him.

  She was tall - taller than him, even in her bare feet, which were just visible under the wispy hem of her black skirt. Black curly hair fell to her hips, just below the hemline of her skirt, which was low enough to show off the flowers tattooed in swirling patterns up one side of the line of her hipbone, across her navel, in a circle around her belly button, and upwards under her dusky rose coloured crop top. Those flowers continued in a line up between her breasts, under her collarbone, and down her arm to twine around her fingers, interspaced with jagged black runes that, even to Dom, a plain old human, seemed to pulse with power.

  The Witch was stunning. And she was, without doubt, absolutely the genuine article.

  Dom didn’t know whether to be impressed, or to turn and run away as fast as his legs would carry him.

      “Dominic Harrison?”

  “How did you know my name?”

  “…You emailed me. Your email address is literally your name, and you put it at the bottom of the message.” the Witch frowned at him, as he she was wondering if he was a bit thick or something - which, to be fair…he must seem it about now.

  He blushed, one hand rising to rub at the back of his neck: “Oh, right…sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” she conceded: “I’m guessing from your general reaction that your family have a background in this kind of thing?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, the, um, the Fae, technically.”

  The Witch blanched, her expression instantly becoming sympathetic: “Yeah, no wonder you’re nervous. Come in - can I make you some tea?”

      Dom accepted, knowing that unlike with the Fae he could safely accept an offer of hospitality from the Witch: who kindly introduced herself as Sariah.

  Sariah was nice. Despite her vaguely intimidating appearance, her voice was lyrical and sweet, and her laughter was silvery like bells. She laughed a lot, too, seeming to find Dom’s awkwardness hilarious - not that he could really blame her. He’d already made himself look like an idiot by forgetting he’d emailed her, he supposed watching him almost fall over his own feet and apologise to a plant he almost knocked over must be pretty funny.

  Her laughter wasn’t mean, though, and by the time she sat him down in a conservatory filled to bursting with lush green plants, lanterns with candles in, and smoking incense holders filling the air with the smell of citrusy orange and something floral and musky that he couldn’t identify, he was much more at ease. She sat him at a wrought iron table, smiling as she settled down opposite him.

      “So, you said you were interested in knowing about some things in your future.” she prompted: “How can I help?”

  “I guess I’m just…like…really fuckin’ nervous?” Dom told her: “I’m a musician, and I’ve got an album coming out in November, and I’m really scared no-one’s gonna like it. I’m doin’ a podcast and I’m scared the BBC are gonna think I’m inappropriate or something? I’ve never been scared of tellin’ the establishment to go shove it up their arse, but now I’m workin’ in the establishment and I dunno how that works. I’m getting more and more well-known by the day, which is great, but it’s also fucking horrifyin’…I don’t wanna lose who I am, but I’m scared I’m gonna…”

  Sariah smiled comfortingly: “That sounds like a lot of stress. Do you take anything for that?”

  “Nah, I don’t…I don’t like medication.” Dom replied awkwardly.

  “I was thinking more tea - I can make you a batch that will help with any future stress, but for now…I could start by reading your palm, or if you’d rather I can scry to try and see what the future has in store for you.”

      Dom held up his palm in response.

  Sariah took it gently, holding it in her own hands and bending over it, looking down at his palm intently as she lightly traced her fingers over his skin. Dom did his best to sit still as she did her work, trying not to fidget like he normally would, but that was hard for him at the best of times…it got even harder when every feather-light brush of Sariah’s fingers against his skin made him want to shudder.

  Finally, she looked up: gently squeezing his hand comfortingly before releasing it and allowing him to tuck it nervously into his lap with the other one.

      “Well, I’m not surprised you’re a musician. You have a fire hand - it’s a sign of a creative personality.” she smiled: “And, honestly, I don’t think you have anything to be stressed about in your near future.”

  “I’m gonna be alright?”

  Sariah nodded: “You are. Your heart-line is strong, and your Apollo line stands out to me, which is a sign of some good fortune about to come your way. This isn’t necessarily a lottery win, but it’s almost certainly a sign that you’re going to have a good few months - and that things are going to go your way.”

      Dom couldn’t help but be relieved.

  He knew a lot of people wouldn’t believe Sariah’s words, but he’d felt the magic in her fingers when she’d touched his palm, felt the power that radiated off of her, and heard the absolute certainty in her voice.

  He was gonna be alright.

      “So, what do I owe you for the palm reading and the tea?” Dom asked.

  Sariah bit her lower lip: “Well, I don’t usually do this - and if I’m out of line then you can absolutely tell me so - but I get a really good feeling from you Dom, so I was thinking you could owe me a…date?”

  Dom fucking beamed: “You’re not out of line at all. I’d love to take you on a date.”

      Sariah grinned back at him…and Dom was overjoyed that he’d decided to visit a Witch to find out his future.

  Hopefully, she’d be in it.

[nereol]

I’ll Be Your Animal (1/8)

Okay, here it is: my Val / Emmerick fan fiction!

This is the first time I write in English. English is my second language so sorry for bad typo, gonk grammar and weird punctuation.

You can read this on AO3 or on WorldAnvil (with pics, quotes, music...).

„So... your bouncer...“ Val's voice is calm and thoughtful. Claire looks at her with raised eyebrows. „Em?“ „Yeah... he's...“ Val thinks about what to say. „He hates all people or just me in particular?“ Claire chuckles. „Why do you think he hates you?“ V shrugs. Claire stops laughing, frowns and looks sharply at Val. „You like him?“

It's been a while since V was at the Afterlife the last time, the only time. That was before the... before everything went wrong. She walks down the stairs, puts her aviators in her pocket. Entering the first door her eyes are on the bouncer. Emmerick. She doesn't know his name, cause he told her. No, she just scanned him last time, first time she was here. And he's called her and Jackie 'Clowns'...

Hands sliding down from the zipper of her jacket, which she just opened. She hooks her thumbs in her hot pants pockets and stops infront of him. He stands there, like the typical bouncer. Upright, arms in front of his torso, legs slightly apart. „Hey, how's things?“ Val smirks, head slightly tilted.

Emmerick has scanned her the moment she came through the door. V, only survivor of Dex's gig. But not quite well, not in one piece, if what he had heard is the truth. Wasn't at the Afterlife since then, but works for other fixers - quite successfully. She's on his 'positive' list, so he nods, holds a straight face and with one step aside he says „You go in.“

Val stills and slightly shakes her head. „Well... good talk, thanks for nothin'“ She turns her head to look at him. Still a straight face Emmerick says „I've got work to do.“ „Yeah, me too.“ Val shrugs, then looks around. Now he turns his head to look at her. First time really look at her and in her eyes. Green. Bit too green, but still 'ganic looking. But he knows they're not. Not on a merc like her.

„But it's not like there's a queue, so I thought...“ she eyes him, „you might be bored.“ His eyebrows furrows, just slightly, almost not notable for Val. She just shakes her head, waves dismissively with one hand. „Whatever, suit yourself!“ And without waiting for an answer she passes the next door, enters the Afterlife. He blinks. 'What was that just about? ' Then back to normal, back to zero facial expressions.

---

Val makes her way straight to the bar. „Hey, V!“ Claire greets her cheerfully. She is one of the persons who called Val without her giving them her number. But that's what it's like as a merc. Last week they drove the first of four street races. And won. Val orders a beer and they're talking about the race.

„You here for work or just 'cause of me?“ Claire smirks at her. Val takes a sip and grins back. „'cause of biz, but I've got some time.“ Claire serves a few other customers, comes back to Val. „So... your bouncer...“ Val's voice is calm and thoughtful. Claire looks at her with raised eyebrows. „Em?“ „Yeah... he's...“ Val thinks about what to say. „He hates all people or just me in particular?“ Claire chuckles. „Why do you think he hates you?“ V shrugs. Claire stops laughing, frowns and looks sharply at Val. „You like him?“

„What?“ Val shakes her head defensively. „No... I mean, yes. Sure he's hot, but...“ „uh-huh...“ Claire smirks, cleaning a glass. Val sighs. „That's not the point. I just tried bein' friendly, greeted - and he was just like 'you go in'“ Val lowers her voice and sits up straight to imitate Emmerick. Claire chuckles and shrugs. „That's not about you, he doesn't like small talk.“ Val sighs again and takes a sip of her beer. She leans against the bar and crosses her legs.

„Sooo“ Claire just came back after serving some other people and smirks at Val, who raises her eyebrows. „But you think he's hot?“ Val shrugs, takes a sip. „Yeah, but that doesn't make 'im special.“ She takes a look around. „I consider a lot of people attractive and havin' no trouble saying it.“ She turn back on her stool. „Could point out like ten people, tell ya they’re hot.“ She points at Claire with her beer bottle. „You're one of 'em.“ „Oh stop it!“ Claire laughs and blushes just a little. Val empties her bottle, puts it back on the bar. „Enough chatter. I've some work to do.“ She nods at Claire with a smile. „I'll call you.“ „mh-hm.

---

When Val leaves the Afterlife later this night she pays no attention to the bouncer. And that's the same all the next times she's at the Afterlife. She greets him with a nod, sometimes even a smile when she enters. But a simple „Hey“ from time to time is all Emmerick gets from her.

He doesn't scan her anymore. She comes regularly, like most of the mercs. And she's quite noticeable, enough to remember her. Her purple hair is in thick cornrows all the time. When she enters the first door and comes down the last few steps, she take off her aviators. And she always opens her jacket in between the two doors, so he can catch a glimpse on her ink and what she's wearing under her thick bomber jackets - mostly crop tops

When she leaves, he finds himself looking down at her bottom. She's wearing hot pants most of the time, often under-butt. And if she wears long pants, then extra slim fit ones. And she sways her hips in a way it's impossible to look away

But like her, Emmerick say's nothing at all. Not when she arrives and not when she leaves.

[sevensided]

So, some of the few things I know about you are that: you are a history student; you write fan fiction that you (awesomely) care enough to invest with historical accuracy; and (not unrelatedly) you (probably) are a Beatles fan? Those together have me wondering: 1) super-randomly, if you've read a book called Once There Was a Way, by Bryce Zabel; and 2) more generally, how you feel about alternate history speculation? Is it perspectivally valuable? A waste of time? An enjoyable waste of time? ^_^

Okay, I’m going to DM you because this platonic flirtation has gone on long enough and I need to talk to you IMMEDIATELY, because 1) I am doing my PhD in history!; 2) I love historically accurate fan fic; 3) I... am disgustingly obsessed with the Beatles; and 4) I CANNOT BELIEVE I NEVER HEARD OF THIS BOOK AND I FEEL LIKE A FAKE FAN???? Regarding historical speculation...

So... this is a huge thing in the historical discipline (academic). I have colleagues who think it’s a load of tosh, and others who enjoy it absolutely shamelessly. Honestly, one of my favourite novels - or at least something I’ve read multiple times - is a speculative historical fiction. It also crops up in lots of subtle ways (The Plot Against America) and more overt ways (Wolf Hall) and I think the line is so blurred now that it’s very difficult to discern ‘true’ historical fiction from ‘untrue’ historical fiction. The question lies in your definition of truth, which any historian knows is a matter of perspective. Not in the ‘fake news’ way of perspective, but in the sense that historians have sources and those sources were created by someone, somewhere, who thought particular things, and so our role is to piece to together as many sources as we can to get an essential idea of what occurred. Personally, I don’t mind historical speculation. I rather enjoy it. The issue is really in the end product, though. I see everyone talking about Bridgerton. That’s not historical speculation... it’s historical fantasy. It’s basically Gossip Girl set in the Regency Period, and should not be considered historically accurate in any meaningful sense of the word (perhaps this is me being a snob). Historical speculation is more than ‘what happened if the Nazis won the war’ and looks at more powerful questions. Something that comes to mind is It Can’t Happen Here (1935) about the role of fascism in America. That was a contemporary piece on democracy, truth, fascism, society, and culture, which we could interpret as a piece of historical speculation - because America did not erode into fascism, although the book points out that is has always been dangerously close to it (as current events have underscored) - but the reality is that that was a commentary, even a warning, on the weakness of a nation (you need to say the same of Orwell’s 1984 - everyone forgets that is a satire). So it’s a fine line. I could go on about this because it’s such a fascinating topic, and I really appreciate you asking it - you also worded this in such a poignant way that my mind is going off on tangents.

Regarding the Beatles very quickly, I mean, people were debating truth even at the time with the whole ‘Paul is Dead’ phenomenon. All that rubbish about the moustache and the moped and the secret twin. When I was in the Beatles fandom I spoke extensively about the role of historicism in our collective understanding of the Beatles legacy, particularly as it related to fandom culture. I think I remember a few half-baked thoughts floating around on an old blog - if you want I can dig them out - but essentially I always reminded people that there’s a difference between reality and fiction. Even in fandom. You can imagine to your heart’s content but it is different to what happened, and you cannot forget that.

[writing-and-bad-decisions]

Lock Screen

A Haikyuu Fan fiction

Pairing: Yaku/Lev

Words: 1008

Summary:

“Um... Yaku-san? Why do you have a photo of me on your lock screen?”

Yaku froze, his train of thought grinding to a halt.

Fuck.

Note:

Ayy, I wrote another one! I was in the mood to write something quick and easy, and this was the result. Hope you enjoy, any feedback/constructive criticism is welcome! ---------------------------------

“Alright everyone, nice work on practice today, let’s pack up and head home.” The team breathed a collective sigh of relief. The Nekoma volleyball team’s practice may have been fun and enjoyable, but it could be rather arduous at times.

Yaku wiped his face on his already dampened shirt, before joining the rest of the team in the clean up. It was a Thursday afternoon and his parents were out of the house, which meant he had to prepare dinner for himself. Though, he had yet to decide what he wanted. On the one hand, he was really craving curry, but on the other hand, he was feeling lazy this afternoon, and ordering a pizza sounded like a quick and satisfying solution. The team chatted around him as he continued debating his predicament, sweeping the floor on autopilot. They finished quickly and headed off to the clubroom to get changed.

Yaku slipped off his shirt. If he did order pizza, there was the issue of picking it up. He wasn’t really in the mood for the 15 minute walk to the pizzeria, but delivery did cost $7 extra, and if his goal was to be efficient, he could forfeit delivery in favour of getting garlic bread along with it.

“Yaku-san?” He jumped as Lev materialised beside him.

“Lev! You shouldn’t sneak up on people!” He blinked, quirking his head in a confused matter. Distantly, Yaku found the expression cute.

“Oh, sorry. Can I borrow your phone? Mine’s dead and I need to call my sister.” Yaku slipped on his change of pants. Cheese or meat lovers? That was the next debate.

“Can’t you ask someone else?” He asked, fumbling with his belt buckle. Cheese was the cheaper option, but he was feeling pretty hungry.

“Huh? Everyone’s already gone home.” Yaku paused, looking around at the empty clubroom. He vaguely remembered Kuroo and Kenma exiting, he must have been too deep in thought to notice the others.

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” He grabbed his phone from where it sat on the shelf and handed it to the first year, before beginning to slip on his shoes. Could he really finish a whole loaf of garlic bread and a meat lovers pizza though? He supposed he could save it until tomorrow, but garlic bread didn’t reheat well.

“Um... Yaku-san?”

He’d have to finish off the bread, that was for sure, the pizza was a better option for lunch tomorrow anyway.

“Why do you have a photo of me on your lock screen?”

Yaku froze, his train of thought grinding to a halt.

Fuck.

Ice pooled in his stomach, and he whipped around to see Lev, eyebrows furrowed, and staring at the phone screen. Heat crept up from his collar bone.

“That’s nothing, give it back!” He dove for his phone, but Lev raised it out of his reach. Idiot. Fucking moron. How could he forget such an important detail as him having a picture of Lev’s face displayed on his phone.

“Why do you have it though?”

“I-I just thought it was a nice photo, that’s all!” He pursed his lips in thought.

“... So you set it as your lock screen?” Lev adjusted his hold on the phone, examining it further. The photo in question was cropped from one of the photographs taken during their last training camp, in which Lev was hanging out with some of the other first years. He was mid-laugh, lips curved and eyes sparkling. It was downright gorgeous, which made the whole situation even more mortifying.

“I mean, it is a nice photo... don’t girls do this kind of thing when they have a crush on someone?” Yaku sputtered, and Lev’s focus was broken as he was violently kicked in the shin. He stumbled, slouching forward from the pain, which allowed Yaku to snatch back his phone.

“Shut up!” He brought the device to his chest and turned away, glaring at the wall.

“Ow... why are you being so weird about this?” Lev regained his posture and paused, noticing Yaku’s flustered demeanour. His whole body radiated heat.

“Wait... do you have a crush on me?” Yaku flinched, before thrusting his head into his hands and groaning. Lev began to laugh.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Yaku hissed, though it was muffled through his palm. He wanted to scream, or cry, or both. His fingers curled against his eyebrows, digging into his skin. Fucking hell.

“No I’m not - I’m sorry, it’s just-” He erupted into another round of laughter. Yaku, embarrassed beyond belief, quickly gathered up the remainder of his clothing and stepped around him, making a beeline for the door. There was no way he was standing around while his crush laughed at him. Lev quickly composed himself.

“No wait, don’t go!” He grabbed him by the shoulder. Yaku kept his eyes glued to the floor, shoulders hunched. He’d never felt so vulnerable.

“Is me having feelings for you really that funny?” He snapped, though his usual venom was gone and replaced with an uncharacteristic fragility. God his hands were shaking.

“No! The opposite, really. I’ve actually, uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since I joined the volleyball team.” Yaku lifted his head tentatively, surprised to see Lev’s flushed complexion.

“Really?” He nodded.

“Yeah. Um... I also have a photo of you as my lock screen, which is why I was laughing... “ They stared at each other for a moment, both a blushing mess, before bursting into laughter.

“Oh my god.” Yaku giggled, all of his previous fear melting away. “You’re such a dork.”

“Excuse me?” Lev gestured to Yaku’s phone pointedly, though his eyes shined with mirth. Yaku shrugged, his expression equally bright.

“Whatever.” They stared at each other for a few moments, neither of them being able to contain their giddiness.

“So,” Lev began slowly. “Does this mean you’ll go on a date with me?” Yaku grinned, and distantly he wondered whether his cheeks would crack if he smiled any wider.

“Yeah, I’d like that.

[microsuedemouse]

hhhhhhhhhhhhhwoof I hate fandom/ship drama

anyway I’ve been thinking about how. there is nothing, inherently wrong,, with being interested in exploring ships (or even non-romantic/non-sexual character dynamics!) that are unhealthy in-universe.

here’s something: there is value in recognising that a ship is unhealthy or toxic or abusive or whichever other descriptor you feel fits best. (I am going to be using ‘unhealthy’ as my umbrella word in this post; obviously it’s an understatement to call an abusive relationship ‘unhealthy’ but it’s still accurate and it encompasses the variety of things I’m talking about.) there is value in taking that as fact and acknowledging such in whatever exploratory work you may choose to create or engage in.

I wanna take a second here to clarify part of what I mean: it is not inherently wrong to enjoy an unhealthy ship, and you are not required to defend a ship as healthy/‘not abusive’ in order to justify your interest in it. this is a very weird result, imo, of purity culture and virtue signalling. when you have a healthy understanding of the difference between fiction and reality, and a recognition of what’s acceptable in reality and what’s compelling in fiction, it’s actually very worth exploring what interests and engages you about Fictional Bad Things.

you know that phenomenon where people love villains? a lot of discourse around purity culture naturally leads to the conclusion: “it is wrong to like villains.” most of us are capable of recognising that this... doesn’t make sense. because obviously, we aren’t - or at least, the great majority of us aren’t - claiming that we would like and support this person in reality, or that we would be entirely comfortable with the deeds they commit if those deeds took place in reality. we’re saying that the character appeals to and compels us for some reason, within fiction. that’s a different thing - and it’s usually a sign of good writing! it’s very worth exploring that experience: what about this villain makes you like them so much? what about them makes them relatable to you, or sympathetic to you, or perhaps even cathartic to you? these kinds of questions can offer both entertainment value and, possibly, some new insights into yourself as a person. those insights might turn out to be interesting and meaningless, or they might provide you with new ways to express yourself, or they might even offer you a new avenue for growth.

(moral purity often also extends to the conclusion ‘you shouldn’t enjoy stories in which the main character suffers, because it’s wrong to enjoy someone’s pain.’ we all know this makes no sense, because that includes most stories. a major reason human beings tell stories is to share in the emotional journey of a protagonist ultimately overcoming great obstacles. but anyway, this is a whole other issue, really.)

what I’m getting at is - the same can apply to ships. there are a few approaches to unhealthy ships, and I wouldn’t go so far as to say they stand on equal moral ground, but there are a variety of ways you might be able to explore them without it making you an inherently evil person, or whatever. it’s also worth noting that while, obviously, I’m expressing here what aligns with my moral position and encouraging you to think similarly - but, I also encourage you to think critically about your own moral positions. decide what is comfortable for you, and what feels right to engage with. it’s fine and it’s normal to draw your own lines in the sand and say, this is where the range of acceptable ends for me. I won’t support or engage with what’s on the other side.

to give a quick overview of some approaches I’m not as comfortable with: sometimes you’ll find a writer/artist/other fan who likes to depict a ship as totally healthy in a way that can only be described as out-of-character. sometimes this seems to be a denial of the actuality of the ship; I don’t like that so much because it’s often a refusal to acknowledge that their canonical behaviour/dynamic is bad. other times this is depicted as a sort of AU; this doesn’t bother me quite as much personally (often depending on what the writer’s overall attitudes seem to be) but it’s also often less interesting to me. in my experience, this is usually very self-indulgent work and has a lot more to do with the writer’s own experiences than with canon itself. which is fair, honestly. sometimes that’s cathartic for the writer and that’s enough - I don’t have to be into it personally to respect it.

another thing that crops up that’s kind of worrisome, imo, is when a writer/artist/etc. depicts the ship as in-character but denies that it’s unhealthy. now, in fairness, if you’re simply reading a fic or looking at a piece of fanart or something, you cannot always tell exactly how the creator thinks the ship actually operates. not everyone is always going to include a disclaimer that says ‘hey I don’t think this is actually Good.’ so try not to immediately ascribe intent to the writer/etc. unless you’ve seen them state outright somewhere: this isn’t abuse, it’s just cute! (or whatever it is they’re seeing.) at that point it is worth being concerned about what this person thinks constitutes a healthy relationship, and if you don’t feel good about supporting their work that’s entirely fair.

HOWEVER. there are also other approaches. two in particular stand out to me that I think are worth discussing. one is simply exploring the possibilities of an unhealthy relationship, with total acknowledgement of its flaws. one unhealthy dynamic that I admittedly find really engaging a lot of the time? ‘these two characters are Very obsessed with each other, and it sure ain’t healthy psychologically, but it’s definitely mutual.’ I love that shit. gimme a couple of unhinged, incredibly codependent pieces of shit, and you have my full attention. particularly if they’re on equal footing - if they’re damaging one another, it’s reciprocal, or at very least they’re both getting exactly what they want out of the relationship. obviously this would not be a dynamic I could support in real life! that’s terrible and I don’t want anyone to go through it! but in fictional characters it can be fascinating to explore. and if the content is going to upset or trigger certain fans: that’s why we use tags and warnings. AO3, where many of us go for a huge amount of our fan content, literally has a whole system in place for precisely this purpose: so we can let each other know what’s inside, and make informed choices about what we want to consume.

the other common approach is the redemption arc. it’s always gonna be up to you which characters you consider redeemable and which ones you don’t - that’s okay. again, it’s your choice what content to engage and what to pass over. but as people we’re traditionally very fond of the redemption arc story, and as fans we love to create the redemption arcs our favourite characters don’t get to live out in canon. because we love something about the character and want to explore them further. like I said earlier, that in itself is worth giving some thought to. sometimes we’ll even end up writing partial redemptions: this character goes from totally reprehensible to kind of appealingly awful. the ship goes from abusive to a much more regular level of fucked up. that can definitely be an interesting story in itself, and it’s okay if you want to explore it.

the main thing is that you always exercise your ability to think critically about what you’re consuming and why you like it - which, honestly, you should be trying to do all of the time, anyway. be clear about what you do and don’t endorse, about what your actual values are, about where you draw the line. (as both an example and a disclaimer, since I know I still have followers from A Certain Fandom where this cropped up a lot before I mostly dipped: one line that I personally draw, and always will, is at ships involving an adult and a literal child. I am not comfortable with exploring this even in the hypothetical space of fan content. it is too objectionable to be compelling.)

go forth. explore your unhealthy ships and shitty favourite characters. experiment and learn why they compel you. write properly-labelled fanfic about them hurting each other and loving it. just remember that everyone has different boundaries, and that fiction and reality are very separate spaces. acknowledge that what you’re enjoying is not inherently right or acceptable in real life just because you enjoy it in a story, and it doesn’t have to be. if you’re a content creator, consider portraying these things in such a way that your audience is well aware of your position on the matter, in order to help them also understand what is and isn’t healthy. be a ruthless writer and a kind person, and you’ll do just fine.

[ask-de-writer]

PARADOX PLANET (1 part) The arrival of men on the World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the World of Sea

GONE TO SEA

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Excerpt from a novel of Sea presently in progress

2579 words

copyright 2020

writing begun 2005

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.  

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

1. Paradox Planet

This was going to be difficult, thought Captain Alain. In the wardroom of his ship, the ESA 14, he faced Mr. Torres, the leader of the colonial expedition. Mr. Torres was not a happy man.

“This is an outrage!” he said ferociously. “I can read clocks and calendars as well as any! We were to be awakened from Crossover Sleep on arrival at the system. It has been over a year, local time, since you got here.” He paused to breathe heavily, angrily and went on, “Now, only I have been awakened! What are you up to?”

Captain Alain Looked over at the gray painted metal bulkhead relieved only by pictures mounted to the wall. The duty crews painted them as a hobby to fill the long empty years of the passage. Even faster than light Crossover Drives had limits. Stars were still an unimaginably great distance apart, many of them were years apart. This expedition, two hundred and eighteen light-years distant from Earth, at just over twenty one years of flight time, was no exception. Unless some further distant worthwhile planet had been found in the passing years, this was the longest colonial run that the ESA had tried.

Captain Alain looked down at the pile of files, data disks and crystals in front of him and back to Mr. Torres. He decided to be blunt.

“You know that due to energy constraints, this had to be a one way trip for you and the other colonists. We were trying to find a way to save your expedition’s lives. We failed.”

That brought Mr. Torres up short. “Trying to save us? You failed?” His eyes went wide, “Did my people die?”

“No, they are all well and asleep. The problem is not on the ship. It is the target world. It is everything that the probe reported. We need to report back and have the probes reprogrammed. Nobody expected a world like Sea.”

“C?”, asked Mr. Torres, puzzled. “Is it because it’s the third world? Why call it C?”

“Sea, as in ocean,” said Captain Alain reaching into his pile of data and handing over a crystal. “Look for yourself.”

Mr. Torres activated the viewing controls and knit his brows in concentration as he examined the picture and data flowing beneath it. “Where are the land masses? On the other side? It says that I’ve rotated the view but it’s no different.”

“It did rotate, Mr. Torres. There is no land anywhere on Sea.” Captain Alain paused to collect his thoughts. “So far as we can tell, the last island sank for good between one and a half and two and a half million years ago.” He gestured at the image. “If you boost the magnification far enough you will find floating weed mats and shallow areas that you can use to follow the rotation of the globe.”

Mr. Torres looked again, at high magnification. The skilled ecologist in him rebelled at what he was seeing. “This is not possible. Without land masses to break up air flows by both barrier and convection effects the atmosphere should turn into high speed bands of wind.”

“My crew and I are well aware of the problem, Mr. Torres,” said Captain Alain with the air of one who wished that he had not found the answer to a puzzle. “The reason that the atmosphere does not band is every bit as bad as what you have just seen.”

Once again he removed an image crystal from his pile of data. “As you watch this, bear in mind that it is a direct recording of an actual event. You can change the time compression to suit your own taste. It won’t alter what you will see.” Wryly he added, “We have already said that it’s impossible. It will spare you the effort.”

In utter disbelief, Mister Torres stopped the crystal playback and restarted it several times. It showed the birth of a storm. A large rotating depression was forming at about sixty five degrees South Latitude. Sympathetically, Captain Alain said, “Go ahead and let it play. It only gets worse.”

The storm swept north along a large curve that appeared to be dictated by Coriolis force. The warmer seas of the tropics fueled the storm and it grew into a monster with a core of powerful storm cells over a thousand miles across. The vastly aberrant storm’s clouds did not limit themselves to the troposphere. They towered high into the stratosphere, where no sane cloud mass, let alone a whole cyclonic storm, belonged. The wind speeds achieved over three hundred and twenty kilometers per hour.

The counterclockwise rotation of the storm should have killed it when it crossed the equator to the Northern Hemisphere where the same Coriolis force would now try to make the storm rotate clockwise. Instead, the storm broke apart into individual thunderstorms that followed precise vectors across the equator and reassembled themselves into a giant clockwise rotating storm, all angular momentum preserved, and with no loss of wind speed.

It followed a Coriolis arc north and finally cold northern waters robbed its energy. It broke up into thunderstorms, squalls and fogs about sixty five degrees North Latitude.

Captain Alain said, “Hard to believe, isn’t it? We have observed eight of those aberrations of nature and they ALL do that. Because of the form of the path that they follow, we are calling them Coriolis Storms. It’s as though there were a guiding intelligence handling the storm. Lovely fantasy. It would take at least nine of the most powerful synchronous orbit Weather Sats with a fleet of Low Orbit backups to get even one of those storms across the equator. It would be touch and go, even with equipment like that. All that we have here are the three moons and the primary star. We just haven’t figured out the natural mechanism yet, that’s all.

“The worst part of this is that while the spacing and placement of the storms appears to be completely unpredictable, statistically every part of the planet will get hit at least once every five years by one of these monsters. The crew has a betting pool on where and when the next one will occur. The sample is still too small to be sure but it is beginning to appear that the storms are not completely random in their occurrence.”

Mister Torres surprised Captain Alain. He accepted the statements without comment and quietly sat, thinking. At last he spoke thoughtfully, “I’m not an engineer but perhaps we can deal with the storms by going under them. Build domes or habitats on the reefs maybe. The water is calm only a few feet below the waves.”

Captain Alain gave Mister Torres points for being quick on his mental feet. Gently, he said, “My crew and I ARE engineers. We did think of that. Unfortunately, it can’t be done. A dome is an engineering nightmare. The buoyancy is massive. The pressure gradient from top to bottom is all wrong. The air pressure inside the dome is controlled by the depth of the lowest part of it. That means that the dome will try to burst at the top because the water pressure is lowest there and the inside air is at the pressure of deepest part where the water pressure is highest. Small habitats would be possible except that we don’t have the materials to build that many of them and can’t get what we need from the environment.

“We brought equipment to mine on land or in space. We can fabricate almost any device except for a tiny problem. There’s no land to mine and the rest of the system is metal poor. This world does have quite a lot of high quality ores. Unfortunately they are under about fifty to over nine hundred meters of water. We can’t get at them. Captain Alain inhaled heavily and added, “We can’t even get useful silica sand on this planet. It’s in the same situation as the metal ores. The common coral sand is useless for glass making.

“What we can do is process the local coral and coral sands into a form of concrete. It is possible to get useful amounts of aluminum, magnesium and small amounts of titanium from the seawater. We can go to the three moons for silicates to make glasses. They even have small amounts of available iron and some other useful metals. The silicates make structural glass a real possibility. Fiberglass is also practical. Many of the local seaweeds will process to yield various useful plastic resins for both the fiberglass and to mold directly into useful objects.

“In this environment, only the titanium and structural glass are durable. Corrosion will destroy the other metals in short order. Concrete made from coral is subject to long term erosion by the water, not to mention the many animals and plants that will attack it. Even the fiberglass will have a limited life due to long term water absorption. Of course you can recycle the fiberglass materials.”

Now it was Mister Torres who spoke. “You know about the nutritional deficiency issues of this world, um … Sea? Good name, by the way.”

Captain Alain accepted the compliment with a nod and replied, “Yes. You will be short a pair of critical amino acids, a small raft of vitamins, and there’s a carbohydrate problem of some sort.”

It was Mister Torres who spread his hands now. “You are right. We brought the solutions to all of that along in the form of crop seeds and embryonic animals. We did not expect to have no place to raise them. Hydroponics could answer the plant problem, perhaps. The animals are a different matter altogether. They have to have a certain amount of space for proper development.” He paused and looked thoughtfully at a painting of Mt Fuji, back on Earth, “Could we bypass the growth of the animals and do a carniculture system? I ask because that is more an engineering problem.”

Captain Alain considered in his turn. Mister Torres let him think. A thousand lives hung in the balance. At last, Captain Alain said, “It could be done. It has been done before. There is a nutrient limitation. You have to be able to supply the culture tissues with the necessary amino acids. The whole animal would manufacture its own from the crops fed to it. The culture can’t do that. I think that with the available resources, you are stuck with raising the animals whole. I can ask. We didn’t think of that solution.” He dictated a note for his ship’s system engineers to look into it.

Suddenly Mister Torres exclaimed, “Those storms all follow the same pattern! That means that if we build a platform, we can design it to be strongest in a direction that will resist the storms best! What sort of tidal variation are we dealing with?”

Captain Alain thought a moment and consulted his data. His brows knit as he worked through the problem. “When the sun and the moons line up unfavorably, the sea level can drop until the shallows become shoal-water. At the other extreme, the water depth can go to twenty meters. A storm depression coupled with a low tide can actually bare the upper parts of the coral. That kills the coral and limits upward growth.”

Mister Torres shook his head. “Between storms, coral should grow on the skeletons of the dead coral and cause island building. Why doesn’t it?”

Captain Alain realized from the form of the question that Mister Torres was giving him credit for intelligence and was pleased. He answered, “There’s a common fish with a hard beak. It seems to think that the dead coral is a delicacy and mows the reef down as it grazes. It chews up the stone to get the dead organisms. That’s what makes the coral sand.”

Mister Torres nodded. “Like the parrot fish back home. Makes sense. The same fish attacks our concrete too?”

Captain Alain just nodded. Then he had a thought. Excitedly he said, “We could put titanium mesh in the outer layers of the concrete. That would keep the fish out of anything structural. Once the platform was built, you could process more concrete on your own. You could re-plaster the areas that the fish attack.”

He subsided, “You’d have all your eggs in one basket, though. The thing would have to be huge. We can only marshal the resources to build one.”

“It’s not really that important,” said Mister Torres softly. “There’s no possible way for us to survive until a ship can return with what we do need. Still, we have to have the platform for morale reasons. My people need hope. It’s all that we can really do for them.”

Captain Alain suggested, “We can request a recovery expedition as soon as we get back. It is ESA policy to have a colony ship ready for just such an emergency.”

Mister Torres shook his head negatively. “I fear that the war that was shaping up will be long over when you get back. I pray that you will be able to survive your return. I do not think that there is any possibility of our survival.”

Captain Alain looked compassionately at Mister Torres. He shook his head. “You’re right. The war will change everything back home. We received messages from Earth before we got The drive up to threshold energy. The shooting did start. We were ordered to return but disobeyed. I can only hope that some form of the ESA has survived.

“As for your platform, even with the Crossover Drive to push us faster than light, we can’t get back to you in time. No platform that we can build will survive long enough. It is going to get hit by at least five and probably more of those Coriolis Storms. One of them will sweep it away. Without its facilities, your people will die of malnutrition in fairly short order.”

Mister Torres looked back at Captain Alain and said bleakly, “I know that. What we are going to do is simple. We will lie to your crew and my colonists alike. We will fake evidence to show that the necessary nutrients can be found in the ecology. We just can’t localize them well enough from space. The search will keep hope in them to the last.”

Captain Alain closed his eyes in pain. This was indeed difficult. Why couldn’t Mister Torres be angry, rail at fate or just cry? This calm acceptance, this cold blooded planning to deceive a thousand doomed people was beyond him. He shook himself and said, “Very well, we will follow your lead. Two of my crew will have to be in the conspiracy. They are needed to create the false data.”

That simply, the decision was made. With massive labor, a platform was built with all of the best systems, electronic controls and computerized communications. It held laboratories, shops, apartments, docks for boats, recreational and farming spaces. All critical exposed areas, like the upper levels of the farms, could be closed over with locking domes in bad weather. On the platform, a space one kilometer by one and a half kilometers, several stories thick, a thousand people were left on a planet that could not support them. Only one of their number actually knew what had been done.

–The End–

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the World of Sea

[thatlittledandere]

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 15, 16, 17, 20, 21, 22, 23, 25, 26, 27, 31 and 40 for that shipper ask meme (sorry for picking so many but those questions are GOOD)

You're right, they absolutely are. I'm sorry in advance that this is gonna be LONG and I'm on mobile so I can't even add a read more;;

1. Talk about the first ship you ever had

So I'm SURE there were relationships I was invested in in movies and cartoons I watched as a child (I've always been a sucker for romance, even though there was that period when I didn't want to admit it) but I can't remember anything from very far back;; So it was either Ron and Hermione from Harry Potter or Ichigo and Masaya from Tokyo Mew Mew, whichever I read first.

2. Talk about three of the most important ships throughout your life

GOSH. You can't do this to me. I guess Romione because it was the time in my preteens when I was becoming more aware of... stuff, in general, abs the two cemented my love for friends-to-lovers. Then Ioryuu, because I've never been AS invested in and passionate about a ship before and likely never will. Nothing can compare to that intensity and ngl I miss it;; I miss the genuine hype I felt in my heart that made me interact with people and make things. So many things. I honestly can't think of a third one with such a lasting impact, sorry;;

3. What's your current OTP?

I imagine Souyo scenarios in my head every night before falling sleep and every morning after waking up, this is not a joke not an exaggeration. I still feel a little traitorous saying this on tumblr but their dynamic IS somewhat similar to the way I see Ioryuu so-

4. What's your current NoTP?

I don't think I have one? I have dislikes, some of them strong, but I don't see any of them often enough to be, like, actively angry. I have better uses for my time than willingly exposing myself to stuff I don't like.

5. Do you have any poly ships?

Not generally, juggling two characters is enough work lol. The only poly ships I've ever really actively shipped are Niels, Duncan and Natalie from the web comic Niels And the Gang by humon and Kinatsuen from Boueibu, but neither are actively on my mind much these days.

8. Have you ever shipped yourself with a character?

BOY HAVE I EVER. I've seen someone on tumblr have a side blog for self-shopping and not gonna lie, it's an excellent idea. My late teens were spent reading character x reader fics on Quotev and I started my fic career with the same genre. I don't really know what to do with myself when I DON'T actively ship myself with a character, which is my state of being now that Yosuke surpassed Yoosung as my favorite character;; Ibushi and Yoosung are the biggest ones but man oh boy I have shipped myself with characters from early age and I'm showing no signs of stopping! There's a reason that I main dating sims.

15. Have you ever "shipped at first sight"?

Not for long. I SUCK at forming first impressions. Usually if I start thinking I'll ship something, I end up not being so invested in it after all, and instead shipping something I swore off at first lmao. Which leads us to...

16. Talk about a ship you initially disliked

As a rule of thumb, all of them. I don't understand HOW it keeps happening but somehow almost all the ships I truly care/d about (that I didn't start shipping through osmosis before knowing them in the source material) started out as something I thought I "wouldn't be able to get behind." Gajevy. Shikatema. Sasunaru. Doctor/Rose. Karabita. Atsutodo. Kiribaku. Yoozen. Enatsu. Freaking IORYUU. EVEN SOUYO. IT'S BEEN YEARS I REALLY SHOULD KNOW THE PATTERN BY NOW

17. Talk about a pairing you've stopped shipping romantically

Like, I started to think they're better as friends after all? I guess NaLi. Then again, I mostly only shipped them out of spite in the first place because I wanted a counter for N/a//Lu, which I never liked at all;;

20. Talk about a ship you feel alone in shipping

Now this time I can say for sure that there isn't one. I can't come up with ships myself and stay on board if there isn't content for it, canon or otherwise;; It's not a conscious decision or anything, it's just how my mind works. I get attached to stuff by exposure, whether from fans or the source material, and if the source material has enough content for two characters for me to pick up on and become interested, it's guaranteed to be enough to become a somewhat popular ship.

21. Is there a ship you just don't get, but have nothing against?

Actually... That's the extent I go to with notp'ing these days. I'm passionate about the right to ship whatever you want so by proxy I can't have anything "against" a ship, even if the sheer thought of it existing makes me nauseous. And I know how to think from points of view other than my own, so I can usually see the appeal, even if it appeals to me personally less than eating dog shit while walking barefoot on rusty nails that are also on fire.

That said, the only ships I have on my Tumblr blacklist are Yoo//ra/n and Suza//lu/lu because they're both popular ships for characters whose tags I am/was following and therefore get suggested a lot even if I want following anyone who ships then. Oh, and all B/LMa//tsu ships! I generally can't feel good about incestuous ships, but can and will fight for their shippers' right to do as they please as long as they stay respectful. (never saw blmatsus who weren't respectful. saw a plethora of anti-blmatsus who were absolute demons. actually the reason i moved away from the last remnants of my anti mindset was that i didn't want to be associated with THOSE anti-blmatsus, when the shippers they wanted dead were all such sweet people. food for thought.)

22. Which of your ships have the best chemistry?

All of them?? Lmao I don't understand this question, isn't shipping all about liking the chemistry between characters? Or the potential for it I guess, in which case the chemistry is whatever you want it to be, which is great B) I'm sorry I keep accidentally dodging questions I'm bad at choosing examples from a long, unordered list

23. Which of your ships deserve better writing?

Hhhhhhh I shipped Jerza for years and was still unsatisfied with their ending, Jellal didn't get to heal enough and we didn't really see them working through their past in an effective way and getting comfortable around each other. It's like they were supposed to be friends to enemies to lovers but the last part didnt really develop and their relationship stagnated at the stage were they were both just permanently awkward out of regret, and couldn't bring themselves out of it even though everything was forgiven forever ago. Or I've forgotten a lot of stuff that happened. Very likely. Is your a case of bad writing or good writing not working out the way I wanted it to? You're asking the wrong person.

25. Have you ever shipped a pairing before you even started watching the show/movie simply because of gifs/graphics or similar?

EYUP. Harumichi was my otp for like a whole year before I saw a single episode with them lol. It was crazy, but it was REAL. I've also went into shows already paying attention to things I knew my friends/people I follow shipped, kind of hoping I'd get into it.

26. Have you noticed a pattern in your shipping? Is there a romantic dynamic I'm writing these questions down from screenshots and I cropped the rest of this one out by accident rip

Eeeh I go for the obvious. Best friend pairs, obvious pining, some rivalry with sexual tension, though I don't really know what to do with those. Then there's the fact that I never see it coming sick Persona 5 reference bro and start shipping the couple I thought "should just be friends" at first. This is more about my relationship to the ships than their dynamic but it's very constant...

27. Is there a ship you've shipped for most of your life?

Hmmm well I got into HP and started shipping Romione sometime in mid elementary school so it's definitely been more than half my lifetime since, but I don't really know if I "ship it" anymore. I didn't start disliking them or anything but for me, "shipping" is an active intrest in a fictional relationship, so if it reaches the stage where I like it, in theory, but I don't have the feels, it doesn't really count. That's why I can say I like ships without shipping them. It's gotta be actively on my brain, man.

31. Talk about one of your favorite headcanons for a ship you love

I haven't mentioned Kannao once, which is criminal. So here's some of what I imagine their future to be like :D I've been getting new Persona followers recently so here's something for you to unfollow me over lmao

So first of all I ignore the canon that Naoto goes back to the city for her detective work after her first year of high school, shhh she stays in Inaba, only taking the occasional jobs. She and Kanji start dating during the spring break before their second year and get more comfortable with each other, so that the next summer they're still cute and very much themselves (which means somewhat reserved) but not as awkward anymore :) I haven't thought about what happens after they graduate but they get married in their early 20s and have a son <3 (Chie and Yukiko adopted their daughter only slightly earlier. They may or may not have had a bit of a competition going on) ((yes Souyo are very much together but if they end up having children I haven't thought about it it's later))

Kanji manages the textile shop and Naoto helps when she's free from detective stuff. They live in Inaba but Naoto is away quite often for her gigs;; She takes up a few jobs less when Kouta is little though so he wouldn't feel less close to his Mom than his Dad.

Both Kanji and Naoto suffered from unfair expectations growing up, so they try their best to make up for it with Kouta's upbringing. They want him to feel comfortable being himself and free to express himself the way he wants; they make sure he knows he'll always be loved and supported, and to never be ashamed of who he is. As a child it doesn't even occur to him that many social norms and social expectations exist, because Naoto and Kanji pretty much let him do whatever as long as he isn't hurting himself or anyone else. They might go a little overboard though, giving into Kouta's whims without much consideration at all. The Amagi Aunties enforce rules and keep kids grounded in reality much better lmao

40. If you could change one thing about your otp, what would that be?

HMNGHNMHGNMGH I WAMT YOSUKE'S INTERNALIZED BULLSHIT ACKNOWLEDGED!! It's there AtlUS!! Stop pretending oh my god.... I love the Dancing All Night story mode (so far. I am by no means done); Yosuke gets cool moments and Yu's internal monologue really shows how much he appreciates him. The dynamic is so much better than with a silent protagonist, and thank god they didn't go with the tactless anime Yu (as fun as he is). I know there are a bunch of nods to the cut romance across spinoffs but mannnn... I wish they were more serious about it. At this point it's not even that far-fetched to think Yosuke has feelings for Yu that he may or may not be aware of, and I know that Yu as the player character can't be too tied down to one option in canon, but still... Even the clown gets tired of jokes at some point. One can dream.

40 ship questions

[theoeclipse]

Les Roses

Pairing: Lena Oxton x Amelie Lacroix

Disclaimer: Characters are the intellectual property of Blizzard.

Summary:  Lena has been mysteriously receiving roses at the fashion magazine where she works. When she discovers who is sending them, however, her life is turned upside down.

Note: This started off as a little prompt that was supposed to be short. It quickly turned into almost 7k words. Sorry not sorry.

You can also read this on AO3 here.

~

Lena exhaled as she looked at the monitor in front of her. She had just finished editing the last article for this week’s edition of Couture, five minutes ahead of schedule even. Which meant-

“Home time!” she chippered to herself, cracking her knuckles and standing from her stiff office chair. She pressed her hands into her lower back, bending until she felt it crack and let out a little grunt of relief.

Just as she was about to leave her office however, hand poised over the door handle, her desk phone rang.

Eyes narrowing, she considered it briefly. If she answered it and it was the boss, she could probably expect to be staying late with no way to get out of it. However there was always the possibility it could be a serious request that could cost her arse if she ducked out before answering it.

Resigning herself to this fate, she walked back to her desk and picked it up.

“Yello?”

“Good afternoon Lena, it’s Sandra from front desk. I wanted to let you know there’s a delivery down here for you to pick up on your way out.”

Brow crinkling, she wondered if it was the same person that had been sending her roses for the past few weeks.

“Righto, I’m on my way down now anyway, thanks.” She placed the phone down and turned, making her way out.

No one from the floor noticed as she left. Not that it was really any of their business what she did or where she went, this whole magazine would be stuffed without her writing and editing for the company. Her articles alone were 40% of the readership, probably more.

So yeah, definitely wasn’t a secret admirer here at the office, that she was sure of. But that just made it even more of a mystery. She didn’t really have many friends, at least no gay ones. And she was fairly certain her mum wouldn’t go setting her up with a mystery woman.

Still, she’d figure it out eventually, that much she was sure of.

As she stepped off the elevator and approached the front desk, Sandra met her with a bright smile. She could see the roses just sitting there in a little black bucket, a note tucked neatly into them.

“Nother one huh?” she asked, approaching where they sat on the counter and reaching out, cupping one of the red roses and bringing it to her nose. It smelled soft, floral and delicious. Whoever bought these- and there was at least two dozen- had money to spare. And then some.

“Someone likes you,” Sandra replied, tilting her head at the roses and wiggling her eyebrows.

Lena scoffed.

“And lemme guess, you got no clue who they are either?” Lena asked, plucking the note from the stems and unfolding it.

Sandra looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging her shoulders.

“Whoever it is they’re bringing them in themselves. And let me tell you, she is probably the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. And I'm straight.”

That piqued Lena’s interest, an eyebrow cocking.

“Gorgeous woman you say?”

“Mhmm.” Sandra nodded, holding up a finger as the phone beside her rang and she went into customer service mode.

Lena turned away, bringing the note up to read it.

“Two lovers adrift- cast from their caste- find their own way back to land.”

She peered at it in confusion. The words seemed oddly familiar. 

Grabbing the pot of roses, she gave a small wave to Sandra and left the building. She had at least a five block walk home to ponder over the message, but it wasn’t until she placed the flowers down gently on her coffee table that a light bulb went off in her head.

“Bollocks!”

It was actually a line from a page she edited- the reader’s submitted poetry- that came out on the shelves last week. She’d liked that line, particularly so. She’d put that poem at the top of the column and even bolded that first sentence.

So, whoever it was sending her these gifts most certainly also read the magazine she worked on.

Tapping her chin thoughtfully, she paced back and forth. Still, no one she could think of. But maybe.... maybe if she just asked Sandra to hold them up the next time they brought flowers, call her with a code word or something, then she could run down and catch the ‘hot delivery girl’ in action.

She grinned to herself. It was a brilliant idea, if she said so herself.

And so planned the ambush with Sandra. She’d give her a call pretending to ‘need to call her boss about something’ and stay on the phone until Lena  got down there. After all, she couldn’t accept the delivery until she got off the phone, and the ‘hot delivery girl’ would be none the wiser. It was perfect.

So another week went by, every day Lena waiting anxiously for the end of the day to come and for her mysterious rose girl to show up. Of course it was silly to expect her so soon, but she couldn’t help it. It was keeping her on edge and she needed to know.

When that call finally came however, she could barely contain her excitement. She practically ran through the office to the elevator, much to the other employees disdain. Not that it bothered her, she was about to meet her mystery woman, caught red handed. This is definitely the most interesting thing that had happened to her all year.

Her expression dropped as the elevator doors opened at the ground floor, every part of her body tensing up as she spotted the very CEO of the competing fashion magazine to the company she worked for standing in the foyer. She had been following her on her social media for a long time now, and had always admired her passion and determination in a cut-throat industry.

Did she also mention she was bloody gorgeous? Like, fall over your own feet and walk into a street pole at the sight of her gorgeous? Because well... she was.

Their eyes met and there was a moment of panic she saw in the taller woman’s features. That was when she noticed what she was holding.

“Nice roses,” Lena managed to whimper out without sounding like too much of an awe struck teenager. As the French woman’s eyes bore into hers and a shade of pink touched her cheeks, Lena cleared her throat.

“Sorry, ‘m Lena. Lena Oxton. I’m editor in chief for Couture magazine, you’re Ms. Lacroix right?” she queried, straightening her posture and forcing herself to act at least a little bit professional. She looked over and noticed Sandra behind the desk making a frantic pointing motion in the direction of Ms. Lacroix as she stood there holding the roses. No. There’s no way.

“I know who you are, Miss Oxton,” her voice came out like silk, her gorgeous amber eyes sparkling with just a hint of mischief. “I am a fan of your work, it is written with passion and ferocity.”

A smile crept over Ms. Lacroix’s face, causing a flush to reach Lena’s cheekbones.

“I also enjoy reading your lifestyle blog online. It is... interesting, to say the least.”

Oh god, she read her lifestyle blog. Of all the bloody things. That website was nothing but a big mess of mostly lesbian content, a few fiction romance stories, interviews and reviews on LGBT+ media. Generally it was something that only really appealed to people from her own community, why would she be reading it?

“Gee, thank you so much Ms. Lacroix, I’m flattered, truly,” Lena paused, scratching at the nape of her neck as she tried to avoid those intense eyes. “Who’s the roses for anyways? Y’got someone ya meeting up with here or-”

At that, the French woman stepped forwards, holding the bucket out towards her.

“Apologies, these are for you,” Ms. Lacroix spoke rapidly, suddenly seeming self conscious in the moment, keeping her gaze locked onto the flowers in question.

Lena stared at them for a few moments, truly baffled and simultaneously very flattered and very very gay. She stammered.

“For me? But I don’t-”

“I was having your receptionist take the delivery, I’m sorry I wasn’t more forward Miss Oxton. I-” The French woman looked away, inhaling a deep breath before turning her head back and giving Lena a soft, wonderful smile.

Oh, that’s nice.

“I wanted to ask you to allow me to take you out for dinner some time.”

Lena almost dropped the flowers at that, her eyebrows lifting in surprise as she looked for any hint that she was being taken for a ride.

“D-dinner? Like... like dinner dinner? Like a date dinner? Not like... just business dinner?” her hope was welling up in her chest and she didn’t want it to die, not when this gorgeous woman was looking at her like that; looking at her like she was the most interesting person in the world and then some.

A soft chuckle that sounded very French indeed- if that was even possible- escaped Ms. Lacroix’s lips and it was a most heavenly sound indeed.

“Oui, like a date dinner. Perhaps with just a side of business, if that suits you.”

Lena couldn’t help herself from erupting into a hopeful giggle; she was all too aware of the stupid, love struck grin now blossoming on her lips.

“Suits me just fine love,” she paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Speaking of, do I wear a suit or...”

Her voice trailed off, and there was another one of those heavenly laughs.

“Non, nothing so formal. You could just wear a blouse and jeans if it’s what you wish,” she waved a dismissive hand, even that motion being elegant.

She was liking this woman more and more by the minute, and she’d already liked her to begin with.

At that, Ms. Lacroix reached into the inner pocket of her suit, a subtle dark grey tone that was cropped just along the bottom of her rib cage. She pulled out her phone, handing it to Lena.

Juggling the roses so that she could hold them with one arm, she took the phone and gave the French woman an inquisitive look. All she got was a cheeky smile in return.

“Your number, if you’d be so kind,” she elaborated, and Lena proceeded to enter herself into the woman’s contacts. “Thursday evening, 7pm. I will text you the address beforehand.”

Lena nodded and handed her the phone back, appreciating the small smile Ms. Lacroix had as she made sure the details were all there.

“Right, Thursday. 7pm,” Lena repeated, shrugging her shoulders. “Thanks for the roses by the way, they’re gorgeous.”

Ms. Lacroix made a small humming noise, obviously pleased that her gift was suitable.

“I’m glad you like them,” she replied, lifting her arm she pulled her sleeve back and looked at her watch. Lena couldn’t help but notice it was what appeared to be gold with many little encrusted diamonds around the face. Bloody ‘ell was this woman well off. “I have a meeting I must get to, but I look forward to dinner with you, Miss Oxton.”

“Lena,” she corrected her quickly, in one sharp breath. “Please, just Lena’s fine.”

The French woman smiled, a sparkle in her eyes.

“Very well, Lena,” and the name practically rolled off her tongue. “Then please, call me Amelie.”

“Amelie,” Lena repeated, a little quietly in fear of stuffing up the pronunciation, but Amelie nodded appreciatively in return.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Lena,” Ms. Lacroix spoke, also giving a small nod of farewell to the receptionist before turning on her heel to leave.

“You too!” Lena called out after her, smiling to herself. She must have stayed that way for some time even after Amelie had left, as it took Sandra calling her name twice before she turned to her.

“Really Lena? The CEO of our competing company?” she looked both a combination of exasperated and amused.

Lena could only rub at her neck sheepishly, then pretending to look at her wrist despite not even wearing a watch at all.

“Gee will you look at the time? Gotta fly! Later Sandra!”

And with that she left the building before she could get in any more trouble.

~

Thursday couldn't come fast enough, yet when the time actually came, Lena couldn't help but suddenly wish she had more time.

Yes, Amelie said she could dress casual, but she hardly felt that would be fitting, especially considering that once she'd been texted the name of the restaurant she knew instantly she should at least try to dress up.

Of course it was a French restaurant. Of course it was fine dining. Jesus bloody hell this woman was rich, it wasn't like she was going to take her out for a luke warm cheeseburger.

The pile of clothes on her bed was growing, and as she stood in wearing black dress pants and a bra in front of her closet she finally decided that a simple blouse would have to do. It was form fitting, white and plain with three-quarter sleeves. Nothing fancy, but acceptable attire nonetheless.

She'd spent too much time fussing over clothes already so she decided to forgo the makeup except for a little touch of eyeliner and some neutral eye shadow. With that settled, she checked the time.

“Bugger!” noticing she only had 30 minutes to be at the restaurant, she hurried to grab her handbag, tucking her phone into it and heading out the door. She was lucky enough to be down the road from the metro, and if she jogged down to the station she'd just make it in time for the train and would- according to the timetable- reach her destination with a few minutes to spare.

And she did, her phone reading 6:58pm as she reached the door of the restaurant and made her way in. A man in suit and tie immediately greeted her with a charming smile and a soft 'bonjour', asking her for her reservation. She totally didn't feel nerves well up in the pit of her stomach, nope, none at all.

“Lena Oxton, I'm here for dinner with Ms. Amelie Lacroix.”

His eyes widened at the name and he began beaming, bowing and motioning with his hand for her to follow him.

“Ah yes, Miss Oxton, of course! Ms. Lacroix is waiting for you in the private dining room. Please, if you will follow me,” he spoke in the most formal of tones, his French accent just making him sound all the more posh.

Lena couldn't help but look around her at all the rich and well dressed people sitting at their tables, holding crystal glasses filled with red wine and dining on what she could only describe as Gordon Ramsay level cooking. If this was the 'public' dining area, she could only imagine what the 'private' dining area was like.

Following him through, he led her to a wide hallway curtained off from the public. He lifted the curtain back for her and motioned for her to walk through. She did so, nervous trepidation now rising into her throat. The hall was lined with oil paintings that looked both very old and very expensive. She could see the textures of the paint and the strokes from the paintbrushes. They were not prints.

At the end of the hall was a set of swinging double doors with curtains hung over their windows. For added privacy, Lena assumed.

He swung one of the doors open, smiling at her and motioning for her to enter.

“Have a lovely evening, madam,” he spoke politely, leaving and letting the door swing shut behind him.

As she turned back around, Lena couldn't help but gape at the room. It was massive, unnecessarily so. There was a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, speakers in each corner of the room emitting relaxing, hypnotic electronic music. The table was lined with a gorgeous purple satin tablecloth and set with every piece of cutlery and glass type you could think of.

There was also a gas powered fireplace that stretched almost six-feet wide along the back wall, emitting a comfortable amount of heat.

But perhaps the most beautiful thing in the room by far was the radiant woman sitting on the left of the table, reclining with her legs crossed and a sly smile on her face. Her eyes popped even more in this lighting, surrounded by an immaculate smokey eye and winged eyeliner. Her lips were coated in a shimmering lipstick a dark shade of purple that almost appeared black, glistening in the overhead light.

She was wearing a black dress that cut low through the middle, revealing the inner curve of her breasts and just about touching her belly button. A slice down the right side of the dress revealed her thighs almost all the way up to her panty line.

Oh, she was staring. She was definitely staring.

“See something you like?” Amelie teased, quite obviously aware of the effect she was having on her guest.

“I uh... um. That is-” Lena suddenly felt incredibly warm, and her clothing felt far too tight. She reached up and pulled at the collar of her blouse, attempting to loosen it. Amelie laughed, her eyes lighting up.

“Please, relax. I don't bite,” Amelie spoke, motioning to the chair that was beside her, but about two feet away. It certainly seemed more intimate of a dining arrangement than your regular setup.

Lena let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, moving around the table and seating herself to Amelie's left. She gave the French woman an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, 'aven't been on a date in a long time. I'm a little rusty at this.”

Amelie shook her head, her long black hair like tresses of silk tied up into a professional bun.

“I find it hard to believe someone such as yourself has trouble finding dates,” Amelie argued, taking a moment to eye her up and down, humming softly as though in approval. Lena felt her cheeks redden.

“Don't really get the time. I work at the office and I work when I get home. Sometimes I'm up 'til the early hours of the morning, don't get much sleep.”

Her dining partner clicked her tongue disapprovingly at this, her smile fading to be replaced by the most adorable crinkled brow Lena had ever seen.

“That is unacceptable, non that will not do at all,” she spoke tersely, shaking her head as she plucked her phone from the table and started typing something into it. Lena wasn't sure if she was texting someone or taking notes, but after a few moments, she placed her phone back down and looked at her with a very serious expression.

“Lena, I will not lie to you. There is another reason I brought you here tonight,” Amelie paused, taking a deep breath. Lena suddenly felt her nerves rattle. “I wanted to ask you to come and work for me. Be my second in command. Everything would have to be approved by you on my behalf, and all editing work would be done by those of your choosing. No more late nights, no weekend work, you would get to attend all the fashion events by my side or in my place.”

The amount of information being thrown at her almost knocked her for six, and she felt herself staring back at Amelie like a fish out of water. A smile crept onto Amelie's features.

“And of course, I would pay you handsomely. It would make your current paycheck look like mere pocket money.”

Okay, this all sounded far too good to be true. Yet she knew this industry was cut throat and those that had the skill and potential to go far were worth their weight in gold. Amelie had obviously been scouting her for some time, but did that mean that the date was all a ruse?

Shifting uncomfortably, she chewed on her lower lip. The woman beside her looked at her expectantly.

“So does that mean this isn't a date then?”

She could already feel the disappointment, the let down, that gaping maw opening up in her stomach and preparing to swallow her whole. The offer was amazing, and she'd be a fool to not accept it, but she'd truly been hoping to just enjoy a wonderful date and maybe something more with this mysterious woman.

Realising what she must have sounded like, Amelie instantly looked apologetic, leaning closer to her and resting her hand on Lena's thighs.

“Cherie, I brought you here for a date, that I promise you,” she squeezed Lena's thigh, giving her a reassuring smile. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on, I just thought it best to get business out of the way first before pleasure. Wouldn't you agree?”

Ahh, there was her nerves from earlier making a second appearance. Lena chuckled softly, feeling adventurous enough to reach down and let her hand rest atop Amelie's. It was a bit cooler to the touch than she'd expected, but still pleasant. Her skin was so soft and she just couldn't help herself but to run her thumb over the back of her knuckles.

This little moment of tenderness seemed to catch the French woman off-guard, her cheeks darkening and a hint of something else behind her eyes.

“Yes, I agree,” Lena spoke with all the bravery she could muster. She took a deep breath before continuing. “And I'd love to come and work for ya', Amelie.”

“With me,” Amelie corrected, giving her thigh one last squeeze before taking her hand back and returning to her relaxed posture. “You will be working with me, and I promise you cherie you will enjoy every minute of it.”

That she didn't doubt for a second. A pleased smile crossed Amelie's face as she adjusted her dress, somehow managing to reveal even more of her thighs.

“Now, are you hungry?”

She was hungry, but not just for food, that was for sure. Instead of making a fool out of her love starved self however, she settled for nodding in reply.

Amelie called for the waiter and they ordered their meals.

It was a comfortable atmosphere, the two of them talking light business while waiting and then while eating. Amelie seemed especially interested in Lena's lifestyle blog and suggested she could even have a similar article running weekly in her own magazine. Of course she agreed to it, more positive LGBT+ representation in the mainstream media could go a long way.

They talked about themselves. Lena learned that Amelie's prior marriage had been loveless and purely for business; the two had separated amicably once she had established herself in the industry with his help. It had been a well kept secret- the French woman's sexuality- but being the fashion giant that she was now she no longer felt the need to hide who she was.

It was something Lena understood, having herself dated men off and on when she was younger and in college. Even once she discovered that her lack of excitement in those relationships was due to the fact that they were men and not women, she still approached her love life with trepidation. A secret girlfriend here, a fling there. Nothing substantial. Work had ended up taking priority in her life, something she absolutely didn't regret having gotten to where she had in that time.

Now here she was, enjoying a wonderful date with an equally as wonderful woman. One who laughed at her jokes or listened to her intently when she shared a story. They finished their meals and the waiter brought out a bottle of wine for them, pouring two glasses and leaving the bottle behind.

Usually Lena wasn't big on drinking wine, but in good company it wasn't so bad, and she found herself loosening up the more she sipped at the crimson liquid. At some point Amelie had shifted her chair closer, almost touching, swishing her wine delicately in its glass while listening to Lena babble on about a movie she'd seen a few weeks ago.

It was as her head started to buzz that she looked over at her companions wrist watch, just barely making out that the hour hand was touching on the 10, the minute hand a little bit past the 12.

“Oh bollocks, is it that late already? I'm sorry I musta' been babbling on for ages, you must be bored outta' ya mind,” she started to panic, feeling self conscious of herself and her ability to prattle on about just about anything.

Amelie however only smiled at her, eyebrows lowering and her chin resting in the palm of her hand, propped up by the arm of her chair.

“Bored? Oh my darling, I've sit through more arduous meetings than I care to count. You are a breath of fresh air, though it is wonderfully sweet of you to be concerned.”

Darling? That was new. And... nice.

She took another mouthful of wine. Amelie noticed.

“If you wish to head home I would be more than glad to have my driver escort you there. I would hate for you to be out there alone at this time of night,” one of her eyebrows cocked playfully, earning a swarm of butterflies in Lena's stomach. “Or we could return to my home. I would so love to enjoy your company further.”

I'm bloody sure you would too, you French seductress. There was a part of her that was tempted to pass her up on that offer, if only because she was well aware of what they could get up to. But the part of her inhibition that had been loosened up from the alcohol would not let her turn it down in a million years.

“Y'know, think I'll take ya up on that, if only so that you can show me 'round your fancy digs,” Lena replied, looking thoughtful. This seemed to please Amelie greatly, a musical laugh escaping her lips and sending a warmth throughout her. Or maybe that was the alcohol at this point.

“Whatever you wish, cherie,” she replied, reaching for her handbag and pulling out what appeared to be a chequebook and pen. Lena watched with mild interest as Amelie filled out a cheque; she couldn't quite make out the numbers, but there was most definitely several zeros.

The cheque was placed in a small dish in the centre of the table and she tucked the book back into her handbag, beginning to push her chair from the table. Okay, Lena could at least do this one little to thing to prove she had at least a little bit of culture.

“Oh, here let me,” she rushed, jumping out of her own chair to her companion's surprise, standing off to the side and offering her hand in assistance. Amelie smiled, taking the hand and allowing herself to be helped out of her chair.

“Mmm, how chivalrous of you, cherie.”

Lena grinned, now offering her elbow. “Shall we?”

Amelie gave her an admiring smile before looping her arm through the offered elbow, allowing herself to be escorted out.

“Lead the way.”

They got quite a few intrigued stares on their way out, but Lena was blissfully happy enough that she didn't care to notice them. If anything she stood straighter, giving that one balding, grey haired dude the 'yeah, this is my date, what are you gonna do about it?' glare when he looked like he'd swallowed a bag of marbles at the sight of her arm in arm with another woman.

Once outside a cool breeze touched her skin, ruffling her brown tresses of hair that she had styled almost immaculately. The valet nodded to her, assuring her their ride was on its way.

No more than three minutes later, a limousine pulled up. It was the darkest of blacks, tinted windows, shined so thoroughly that Lena could almost make out her reflection in it. The valet stepped forwards, opening the rear door and bowing graciously to them as Amelie tugged her towards the vehicle.

This was all... quite a lot. Even as she buckled in and admired the spacious cabin around her, she couldn't help but wonder what the point of all this was, other than making a grand impression. They engaged in quiet conversation, Lena mostly just enjoying the scenic route they took through the city, lights flashing as they drove past, over the bridge freeway where a few boats were spotted around the harbour. She barely even noticed the time passing until she felt the limo slowing to a stop, peering outside to see they'd pulled up in front of a mansion sized beach house.

The driver got out, opening the door for them. Lena thanked him, standing and looking up at the size of the building. It had to be at least three stories, with huge open plan windows looking out over the harbour and the shoreline.

“I promise you, it's much more beautiful inside,” Amelie teased, her voice a warm whisper against her ear that took her by surprise. She turned her head, meeting the taller woman's gaze, her amber eyes burning playfully and a smile pulling at her lips.

“Right, sorry. It's just so...” Lena paused, looking back up at the building before formulating her response. “Big.”

A finger played at the collar of her blouse, tracing over the fabric. She swallowed.

“Size is not everything, I assure you,” came the warm response, the French woman's voice just a little lower, and not so much playful as it was making promises she intended to keep.

Lena laughed awkwardly, scrubbing at the back of her hair and not able to make eye contact. She could already feel her stupid ears burning with a blush, but she was grateful for the dim lighting for hopefully hiding it.

“Come, let me show you around,” Amelie spoke, her voice a more normal tone now as she took Lena by the hand and guided her up the steps and into her home.

Amelie pressed a key card against a scanner, the locks on her front door clicking and sliding open. On entering, Lena looked around her in awe. She vaguely heard Amelie telling her it was the foyer, pointing to various items she had on display including a statue of an elegant naked woman that seemed to be calling the viewer towards her.

In a stupor she merely followed her guide around, being shown a music room, a theatre, living room, kitchen and bathrooms. She allowed herself to be guided upstairs, all the way to the third floor. Apparently the second floor was mainly guest rooms and a second entertaining area.

When they reached the third floor landing it opened up into an expansive living area. Another one of those gas powered fire places was set into the far wall lined with cobblestones. There was a steel grey faux rug sprawled in front of it, a few mauve recliners with thick feet that were probably carved out of very expensive wood. Off to the side was a bar, not too dissimilar to the kind found in clubs, just a little smaller.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Amelie offered, turning to face her guest with enquiring eyes. Lena nodded in reply, her head still spinning as she tried to take in the fact that she was in what she could only imagine was a multi-million dollar mansion overlooking the beach, with a very rich, very charming, very gorgeous and very French woman. One- she noted- that seemed to be the most unlikely thing of all; interested in her.

The French woman walked behind the bar, pulling out two scotch glasses. Looking up, she caught Lena's attention.

“Liquor?” she inquired.

“I'd love to-” Lena mumbled, realising at that second she'd said 'liquor' and not 'lick her'. She shook her head, rubbing at her arms. “Rum. I'd love a rum thanks.”

Amelie nodded appreciatively, turning to look at her shelves and running her fingers along all the bottles she had until it came to rest on one. Like everything else around here, it looked expensive.

She popped the cork and poured out two glasses, adding some ice to both drinks. Grabbing the glasses, she motioned towards the love seat that sat adjacent to the fireplace.

“Come, sit with me,” she offered, giving a warm smile.

Lena obliged, following her over. She sat first, watching as Amelie sat right beside her and close enough that their thighs were almost touching. The dark-haired woman handed her her drink, and Lena was all too ready to accept, drinking down several mouthfuls of the liquid courage right there and then. Amelie quirked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything about it.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, looking at Lena with expectant eyes.

A few moments passed, with her chewing on her lip as she tried to formulate a reply.

“It's...” Lena looked around again, trying to really take in everything now. It smelled feminine, soft, a little bit floral. “A lot, not gonna' lie love.”

Amelie tilted her head, eyeing Lena over her glass of rum as she brought it to her lips. “How so?”

Struggling for the right words, the brunette shuffled around a bit, took another swig of the rum. She savoured the way it burned down the back of her throat, but much smoother than the stuff she usually drank. It was good. She stared into her lap.

“Look, you're bloody amazing. I can't believe someone like you would even want someone like me, but we're here. You're here. This place... it's amazing. But it's a world away from what I'm used to. I live in a tiny one bedroom apartment, I eat leftover Chinese and pizza,” Lena paused briefly, starting to feel a little more warm from the rum. Growing a little courage, she met Amelie's eyes. “My bloody toaster broke the other day y'know. I only bought the damn thing a few months ago. How does a toaster even break? I don't just have money to throw around at toasters!”

The woman beside her laughed softly, taking a sip of her drink as she waited for her guest to continue.

“And some kid spilled his juice on me on the train Monday morning. On the way to work, o'course,” she huffed at the memory and having to excuse the big orange patch on her white jeans when she got into the office. She shook her head. “I'm not used to this rich lifestyle, or being pampered in any way really.”

Raising an eyebrow, Amelie placed her free arm along the back of the love seat, her fingers tentatively teasing at the base of Lena's hair.

“And you don't think someone like me would want someone like you?” the French woman enquired, her voice low but warm. The brunette shivered at the light touch playing with her hair.

“Why would ya?”

The fingers slipped from her hair and she suddenly missed the sensation, but watched as Amelie took  her drink from her hand, placing it with her own on the small table in front of them. Turning back, the French woman took both her hands in her own, squeezing them gently.

“Cherie, you are more amazing than you know. You are smart, talented, funny. You have a true eye for fashion, but you are not like everyone else in this industry, non. You have a heart, I've seen it in your writing, your articles and your blogs,” she paused, her fiery eyes boring into hers with a strength of passion. “You have a way about everything you publish that shows the world your compassion, your truth.”

Lena couldn't hold the gaze, the intensity burning inside of her chest as she took in every word. Looking down, she admired how their hands looked together; at some point they had become intertwined, locked together.

“It gets awfully lonely at the top, Lena. No amount of money can change that,” Amelie spoke softly, a hint of sadness in her voice, a sadness that made her look up again. There was a small smile, a wistful one, and a soft laugh.

“You know, when I was a child, I always thought it was so strange when the Princesses in movies always ended up with the Prince. How could they want to be with such a man when there is a gorgeous woman in front of her?”

A laugh escaped Lena at that, memories of her own returning to when she was a clueless young girl with pictures of female pop stars on her wall while all her female friends had men on theirs.

“We all start off as clueless baby gays, then we grow up inta' adult gays who got no clue how to flirt with ladies,” Lena added, nodding her head as she thought about it. Amelie hummed in agreement.

“Or business gets in the way of what we truly want. What we need.”

The French woman squeezed her hands, shuffling closer. Lena met her eyes, glad to see the sadness from before had dissipated but noting there was something else there. There was trepidation, nervousness. Was she... afraid?

“Love, if there's something you wanna ask me I'm all ears.”

Taking the encouragement, Amelie sat up a little straighter, her eyes flitting back and forth as she tried to gauge the situation.

“Lena I-” she stopped, her mouth poised as though to say something else before thinking better of it, taking a steadying breath, then continuing. “I'd very much like to get to know you further in person. To... date you. If you would have me?”

It was such a soft, genuine question that all Lena could do was start grinning like an idiot, a giggle erupting from her throat without her permission.

“Ya' askin' me to be ya' girlfriend?”

Amelie's lips turned up into a shy smile, her cheeks colouring scarlet as she now looked down at their hands as Lena had before. She found it so endearing that someone so powerful, so strong and terrifying in the fashion industry was turning into an unsure, nervous school girl before her.

“Oui,” there was a moment of silence, the dark-haired woman finally gaining a little courage to look up again as her blush subsided. There was a subtle happiness on her face now, and it just made her look even more radiant than she already did.

“I'd like the chance to show you what you've been missing out on all these years,” she added, the corner of her lip turning up into a cheeky smile. Lena caught the teasing, wiggling her eyebrows in response and daring to lean forward a few inches.

“Oh yeah? Why don't ya' show me then.”

Amelie let out a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a scoff, slowly moving in towards Lena, drawn in like a magnet until the very heat of her lips was against her own.

It was such a simple motion, but it sent her head spinning. All her fears and emotions that might have been left over in the back of her mind that Amelie didn't want her seemed to drift away as their mouths pressed against each other more insistently. They were both tentative but eager to explore, equal measures of gentle and firm. Her hands were already roaming the expanse of Amelie's waistline, much to the taller woman's delight, soft airy moans singing from her throat while her body leant into the touch.

She let out a sound of displeasure as her partner moved away from her, but a soothing hand ran through her short hair in a promise that she wasn't going anywhere.

“Stay the night?” Amelie inquired, her voice low and husky, her pupils dilated and her lips full and shimmering from their kissing. Lena had to stop herself from grinning like the cat who got the canary.

“Sure, but I gotta' warn ya', I'm a blanket hog.”

A chuckle escaped the French woman's lips, and she leant in to press another kiss to Lena's mouth.

“Then you'll just have to make sure you keep me warm, hmm?” Amelie ran her thumb across Lena's lower lip, pleased when the smaller woman kissed her digit.

“I think I can manage that,” Lena took a few moments to just enjoy this closeness, bumping their noses together before claiming her lips again in a delicious kiss.

She kept her promise, not once did Amelie go cold throughout the night.

~

[pazithi-gallifreya]

The Hourglass Garden (An Unus Annus-inspired short story)

*Author’s note: Firstly, this is NOT a fan-fiction, nor does it contain Mark or Ethan in any way, so apologies to anyone looking for that type of content. Rather, it’s a story centered around some of the motifs that crop up throughout the Unus Annus channel as a whole - an homage, if you will. These two guys got me to write again for the first time in years, especially when it comes to writing for myself. I’m just happy I was able to create something for the guys, and I’m so thankful to them for getting those wheels turning in my head again, even if they’re a bit slow. As much of a meme it may be on the channel at this point, I think the overall theme of running out of time is super important, and one I think too many of us dismiss a majority of the time, myself included.I even kept putting the writing of this story off, but I finally came up with enough of a concrete plot to put it together. Mark is always talking about how if you want to do something, you gotta grab the bull by the horns and just do it, so this is me doing that. We need to remember that we often don’t have as much time as we think we do, and the clock is constantly ticking. It only stops for us when we die, but us dying has no effect on time for everyone else. It moves forward without us. That’s not to say we have to rush to get everything done all the time. We still need to stop and appreciate the things and people around us. We just need to find a healthy balance, find what we enjoy, and also work hard, not only for others, but also ourselves. All of that is what this story is about.

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          “Shit!” Aria gasped as the freezing wind nearly yanked the front door right out of her gloved hands. She reigned it back in, locked it, and pulled her beanie lower over her ears as she headed down the stairs towards her complex’s parking lot. She cranked the heat to max, sitting in her red 2007 Honda, cupping her still gloved hands and blowing into them before adjusting her rearview mirror. The crystals formed on the back windshield looked like little ice people. She smiled.

           It had been far too long since she had done something like this for herself. Her boss had recently quit at her editing company, making her schedule a living nightmare over the past month. The added pressure and stress hadn’t gone unnoticed by her best friend Beth, who, after much pushback on Aria’s part, finally convinced her to take a day off. “There’s this beautiful woodland garden about 40 miles out of town. There’s not as much to look at in the winter, so it’s not as pretty, but it’s still open. There’s also less people because of it, so if you’re looking for some solitude, as well as some fresh air, it’s the perfect place.”

          “In 30 miles, turn right on Hourglass Road,” chimed the robotic voice from her phone as she turned onto the highway. Any other day, she’d be blasting music and singing her lungs out, but not today. Today was a quiet day. She kept occasional watch over the crystal people slowly being sliced in half by the defroster, reminding her of her own temporary state as they dripped down the back window.

          Half an hour later, she turned onto Hourglass – a narrow gravel road that opened into a gravel parking lot surrounded by a short log fence, with an ornate sign that read Hourglass Gardens. She pulled in next to the only other car in the lot and pulled her coat tightly around her as she took in her surroundings. The fence opened onto a dirt path that forked in two directions. One led to the large old house that served as a local historical museum. The other traveled down to the woodland gardens. Aria turned off her phone so as to not be tempted, shoved her hands in her pockets, and sauntered down the longer path.

          A short way into the woods was a circular wooden bench surrounding a large, stone fountain  that was currently turned off, probably due to the season. The centerpiece was a huge hourglass surrounded by a stone circle with the phrase “Unus Annus” written repeatedly around the outside. The hourglass was filled with pure white sand, which had all sunk to the bottom. Tippy-toed, she reach up to turn it, but couldn’t get it to budge. She sighed as she took a seat and stared up into the bare branches that surrounded her overhead, silently thanking the powers that be for the seclusion. Beth was right, she thought. Not much to look at, but it’s pretty well-maintained... She stared into murky film at the bottom of the fountain. Mostly. At least it’s quiet.

          After several moments of taking in the stillness, she decided to move deeper into the barren woods. Every so often, she would run into little plastic markers with blurbs about the plants and wildlife people often encounter there. About 2 miles in, about every 20 steps or so, she began to notice little wooden markers close to the ground, almost hidden. They seemed to have arrows carved into them. They started along the path, then slowly got farther into the woods, away from the path. With time to kill, she figured she might as well go with it. There were no barriers, and having read many fantasy novels, she was always amused by the cheesiness of the “forbidden path” trope. Besides, she did come here to get away, after all, and what could be more detached from reality than following mysterious arrows in the woods into who knows where, even if the mystery was pretend. It was still the most excitement she had felt about anything in a while.

          She walked over another mile, and at one point resisted the brief temptation to turn back to the trail. She cleared through one final patch of dead shrubbery next to another arrow before stumbling into a clearing rivaling even the ones in her books – it’s like all the colorful butterflies and animals had congregated in this one spot, encompassed by rainbow assortments of flowers and dense foliage in full bloom, despite the fact it was January. In front of it all was a babbling brook, with an assortment of brightly-colored fish, complete with a little bridge nestled neatly over it. Funny, I didn’t even hear any running water before now. She knelt down to touch it, but something prevented her hand from penetrating the water; some invisible barrier.

          “I see you’ve made it.”

          Aria jumped at the sudden break in the silence. The voice was calm, yet loud somehow. A man in a white, hooded cloak stood on the opposite side of the brook, but still sounded as if he were standing right next to her. A strange mist spiraled around him.

          “What do you mean? Did you know I was coming? What is this place?” Aria asked, reaching her hand out in front of her, only to be forced back once again.

          The man pulled down his hood. “This is the end.”

          “The end of what? Who are you?”

          “I am the inevitable. This is where all of time resides. Everything begins here, and everything ends here.”

          “Are you saying you’re God, or something? Or Death? In the middle of a man-made sanctuary?”

          “I am neither. I am the in between. I am Time Itself. I do not reside on this plane, but I am wherever you need me at any given moment.”

          “So you’re saying you’re not really here?”

          “I am, and I am not.”

          “Am I the only one that can see or hear you?” Aria looked back to where she had entered. It was as brown and desolate as before.

          “Yes.”

          “Why? Why are you here? Why am I here?”

          “This is your turning point – the point where you decide whether to take back control of your own destiny or succumb to the darkness, the point where you decide to live a prosperous life or a waking death.”

          “How do I do that?”

          “Make the decision. Only you know which path you will walk down. When you truly have your answer and have confirmed it to yourself, return here before time runs out. You have one year. I will be waiting. Memento mori.” The man turned, slowly walking away as the mist swelled around him until in encompassed the entire meadow. A frog made a loud plop into the brook, and with that, it was gone.

          In front of Aria stood the looming hourglass fountain, now gushing with water. She pinched herself to make sure she hadn’t fallen asleep on the bench. What just happened, and why was she willing to believe and accept it so easily? She walked closer to examine the intricate stonework. The hourglass had been turned over. A few grains of sand had already trickled their way to the bottom. She read the phrase again. “Unus Annus.” She turned her phone back on and typed the words into the search bar. “One year,” she said softly to herself. “Okay,” she affirmed. “Looks like I’ve got a decision to make.”

          She walked determinedly back to her car, feeling refreshed and invigorated, despite the mind trip she had just been on. As she turned the key in the ignition, she remembered something. “What was the other thing that guy said?” she mumbled to herself. “Memento mori?” She pulled her phone back out and searched the phrase. The translation read, “Remember you must die.”

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Thank you to anyone who read this. Thank you to Mark, Ethan, and Amy for being such a positive and encouraging force in my life for so many years and all the experiences I’ve had because of you. Thank you for giving me some inspiration to start creating again. There have been a lot of hard times going on with my family that I haven’t been able to properly focus on myself, and I’m still working on a lot of things, but this is another small step to help me towards my goals, and I’m glad to have you both be a part of it (even if it ended up sounding like a cheap YA novel). Being a perfectionist, I may not particularly like the final product myself, and think it's weak in every aspect, but that wasn't what this was about for me. I just wanted to show some appreciation for some amazing people. It’s been hard for me to keep up with you guys’ videos as of late, but this channel has been a way for me to stay up-to-date with both of you in a small way, and it’s such a cool concept. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for the channel.

(Unus Annus is right on the verge of 2 million right now! Let’s get them there! They deserve it so much!)

- Anne