#I have a couple other fantasies but they don't belong in a PG-13 setting if you know what I mean and I think you do

[littlescaryinternetguy]

Ultimate G/t fantasy-GO!

Ooof, lol. This oughta take a while.

I like to think of a world where fae and people met 3000 years ago or thereabouts, and that they actually got along alright. Or alright enough. They've been developing side by side since then, the fae a little ahead on knowing agriculture and animal husbandry, humans a bit ahead on the more abstract tech. What magic the fae have is more of a whole new sense, for what COULD happen. Instead of seeing cause and effect, they see farther in the garden of forking paths. It's not enough to give them much of an advantage over humans. A small one, mirrored by humanity's physical advantages. There've been wars, and leaps forward, and steps back, and pogroms and horrors... but fae and humans live side by side. There is intermarriage, and in rare cases, those unions produce children with a fae father and a human mother. There is distrust, there is racism, there is kindness, there is love.

All of this is to say that things are remarkably not unlike the way things are in the world now, it is a world like our own except art means something there. And in my fantasy, I live in that world. In that world, I have lived my life... my actual life, but as the son of a fairy and a human woman. I can shift sizes. I don't like to. I prefer to stay small, out of the way. I prefer to make myself known at a time of my choosing. The time is very rarely of my choosing.

In this world, things do not go well, necessarily. It is this world but with the promise of magic. I live simply in the walls of a larger, fairly run-down building. Think if NYC hadn't become entirely Disney-fied, but remained the sort of place where artists could move to, occupy lofts. A sort of safer 1978, ha ha. Cold water flats. There is a sense of possibility, and of desperation. The sense that time is running out before our scuzzy little salons are wiped from the face of the city.

And there I fall in love with a human woman, an artist and musician. She loves me. And that is that. That is the dream. We are fucked up, we are hurt, we are real, we are in love. I fit in her palm like I was sculpted by her. That is the dream. I help her laugh, she helps me stop crying. We riot together. We're hurt. Like I said, in this fantasy I have lived my life. I have all my scars. But there is love and intimacy and sharing and art and shivering and dark and fear and love. There is sufficiency, and it is enough, and I am usually very small, and it is enough.