#and I was SUPPOSE to be working on my faun character

[soothedcerberus]

No nooo i cant be thinking of another oc comic 😭😭 just another one added to the pile…

[satohqbanana]

Yarasharani Revistelaka, nickname "Yara". She is a master shapeshifter and former alchemist who arrived at Kaleidopolis after a feud with her fellow alchemists in the Damasqus Network. She now works as an assistant to Head Mage* Jewel and as the student counselor of Heartwood Academy.

For more information on the Arcanium series, please see this intro.

Tag list: @philosophika You may ask to be tagged!

Extra Notes:

She's supposed to be holding a staff, but I ended up not putting it in, as I made this as a reference for an artist I commissioned. I adore the whole feather detailing, as well as the relative simplicity of her design.

There's a lot about her that I can't reveal yet, as I have more plans in store regarding her character. But yes, the blue and green "eyes" and feathers are in reference to the peacock, and yes, she's a faun. I would've loved to give her a tail, but I'm still apprehensive about tails as a part of the design of a mortal being in the Arcanium universe. I'm trying to limit the fantasy elements of each fantasy "race" so they're not too far from bog-standard "human". The eyebrows, however, are a stylistic choice and isn't really associated with any of the information I divulged.

And yes, long coats and pants are now a part of the Damasq attires. I hope I could work on Orbit fashion styles again soon... and OOP let's ignore that I forgot the off black on her palette.

*The tern Head Spellcaster has now been changed to Head Mage. Less of a mouthful; easier to recall.

While I am blogging under the name "SatohQBanana", I still can't help but sign my works as "AnneLaurant". I'm attached to it as my creative handle. I'm still not very good with watermarking my stuff; I just copied what my friend did. XD (BTW, I am no longer taking commissions for the foreseeable future.)

[thedupshadove]

M*A*S*H/October Daye Crossover

And by "Crossover", I don't mean "The two sets of characters interacting with each other" (although I suppose, thanks to extended lifespans, that's also possible), but rather, "What if we infuse M*A*S*H with the worldbuilding and lore of the October Daye novels? Who should have what kind of lineage?" (I figure none of them are Purebloods, because as far as I can tell, Purebloods don't have to fight in mortal wars if they don't want to, and it's been a very long time since any of them wanted to. Whereas Changelings are sufficiently connected to Mortal society to need to worry about things like draft boards.)

Hawkeye: Ellyllon Changeling. "Healers and hedonists who enjoy pain and pleasure in equal measure" Yeah, that's him. His mother's supposed "Death" was actually her running off in order to spare him from the Choice, so he has no idea what he is or that Faerie exists. Magic Signature: Gin and Cranberries (will have shifted to Gin and Blood by the end of the war)

Trapper: 1/4 Satyr, 1/8 Gean-Cannah, 5/8 Human. I figure 1/8 is a small enough percentage that he'll have a muted form of the Gean-Cannah allure, but won't have the day-to-night sex-shifting. Magic Signature: Hickory Smoke and Mustard Powder.

Frank: Fetch Changeling, which would be possible as long as it was a Fetch in the form of a man, who found the time to impregnate a married woman and didn't have to carry the baby to term before the doomed person they were anchored to died and took them with him. It would explain why he's the worst Doctor in the camp (born from a literal death omen), why even people who agree with him usually don't like him (death omens seem like they wouldn't be the type to make friends and influence people--May is probably the exception), and his tendencies toward conformity and social jockeying (all Fetches used to be Night Haunts, and we know the Night Haunts have a tight-knit pack structure that picks their leaders through challenge, combat, and continually-reinforced submission. No wonder he can't stand Henry, the Least Leader-y Leader ever to hold military rank.) Magic Signature: Vinegar and Mildew

Margaret: 1/4 Banshee, 1/4 Siren, 1/2 Human. (Am I saying she might be related to the False Queen of the Mists? Well I'm not not saying it...) Magic Signature: Orange Blossoms and Black Pepper

Henry: 1/4 Cù Sìdhe. He's not stupid, he just wants for things to be pleasant and everyone to get along, you guys. Magic Signature: Oak and Suede

Radar: 1/8 Bannick, 1/8 Hob, 1/8 Faun, 1/8 Roane, 1/2 Human. Magic Signature: Sweetcorn and Soil

Mulcahy: Human. I haven't seen much evidence of this in my read-through so far, but I know that some folklore shows Fae Folk being repelled/bound by crosses/prayers/other Catholic symbology, so letting the Catholic Priest stay human was just too good a potential plot to pass up.

Klinger: 1/8 Glastig. Blood strong enough to make him instinctively want to solve his problems with bald-faced blarney, but not strong enough that it actually works. Magic Signature: Rosewater and spiced meat

BJ: Human, but even before getting drafted he was caught in a Fairy story and didn't know it--did somebody say Tylweth Peg? (That explains why deliveries of her cooking are always treated like such an event by the whole camp, and yes, this makes Erin a Changeling. Better hope the Choice doesn't come for her before you get home, BJ.)

Potter: 1/4 Tuatha de Dannan. Unconscious short-range portal-ing must surely have protected him well across the two World Wars. Magic Signature: Cast Iron and Wild Grass

Charles: 1/2 Daoine Sídhe, although it would maybe be more accurate to say that he's 2/4 Daoine Sídhe--his father was a more "typical" Daoine Changeling and so was his mother. Their whole little corner of Boston high society consists of Daoine Changelings who have decided that, as they are cast out and disrespected in the magical halls of their mothers and fathers, they must be content to conquer the Mortal world instead. As such he's maybe the only person in the camp who knows what he is and knows about Faerie. Magic Signature: Maple and Snow

Sidney: 1/4 Adhene. Admittedly I haven't encountered an Adhene up-close in my read-through yet, but I'm hoping that cutting the blood down to 1/4 strength will remove the "violent response to untruth" aspect, and it would be really useful as a psychiatrist to be able to intuitively be like "You're lying. I don't know what the truth is, but I know you didn't just tell it." Magic Signature: Coffee and Honey

[alex-demon-wolf]

tell. me. EVERYTHING ABOUT YOUR MOST RECENT FIC/WIP

why thanks for the ask! all of it will be under the cut!

my most recent fan fics have been based on prompts from @/sleepyvirgilprompts, so obviously they're mostly containing sleepy virgil and what he causes for the others!

for non-fan fic writing, i have a rewrite of high guardian spice (remember when that was a thing?) in this one i kinda take what the show gives us, and mix it up a bit, add flaws to the characters that were there from the start, and give them development. i have the opening scene be the village rosemary and sage live in throwing a feast for the whole town, in honor of lavender, rosemary's mother, before she heads off on another journey. after the feast is the incident that causes rose to lose her mother, and sage to love an arm and a leg, though obviously they each have a different person they blame for it. then it cuts to years later when they're heading off to the high guardian academy! in the rewrite, the high guardians are general protectors of the land and people, the rot being the biggest issue they have to face since the war a thousand years ago. most people don't know about the rot yet, because the people in power do not want to cause panic, or give false hope. rosemary and sage meet parsley when they have to get either rosemary's sword fixed, or sage's limbs checked out. this is going to be a couple days before they go to the academy, to give them time to breathe before jumping into the magical school stuff. they run into thyme on their way out, rose trying to make yet another friend by thyme pushes past them to get into the shop. the rest of the time is a cut of what they do in.. the place is call lyngarth right? something like that at least! in this rewrite thyme is nonbinary, and elves, which they are, are less tolkien elves and have more fae-ish features, like some have antlers, and things like that. i haven't got the full story planned out yet, but the magic system is much more defined, old magic, golden magic, requires you to take from yourself, the environment around you, and/or the people near you to cast spells, with some having like, batteries of magic to be used! new magic, silver magic, seems to have nearly no restraints, the user is the only restraint, you have to be confident in your magic usage, but those in witch country have something to do with it, and the rot,

a monster high rewrite, that one more so cause i love it and the idea! all i have for it is frankie is enby, and they're all in college!

a fnaf.. au? rewrite? i don't know what to call it really- it's hard to call a rewrite when it's got no true story,

i do have a couple original stories i'm working on!

the first is one called lost mail! it's about a faun (aka a less sexual satyr) named toroh waver, who has always wanted to be the hero of a story someday, like in all the legends and stories he reads! he works as, essentially, a postman delivering letters and packages. after being sent to send a special secret package to the isles for a festival coming up, something his best friend and crush wren barnes hates, he falls overboard his ship, due to being a fainting go. he meets a character, who i think i'm going to make a halfling/hlinn, called nameless, when he washes up on the shores of a country he was not supposed to go to. nameless' cult/community is hated by the elven kingdom that controls most of the continent, due to them being fire magic users, and in the past there having been trials due to them being considered "dangerous"

in this world you're born with your magic ability, and can learn others but they'll never be as strong as your first one

when they get caught by the guards toroh and nameless see the eyeless prince, a name known everywhere but a person no one knows, while the king is seeing what their business is. nameless ends up getting them thrown into the dungeon for it couldn't keep its mouth shut. ep breaks them out, believing if the kingdom just made peace with these fucks then everything could be fine, and the king could let up! he gets them onto a small ship, and starts steering them to the next country they can go to, due to the isles and the kingdom not having.. the best connection, the king and the president of the isles having a lot they butt heads about, so if an unauthorized ship from there comes in they probably wouldn't make it. along the ride there toroh lightens the tension between them a bit, getting the two to open up a little and see how they aren't that different, typical main character stuff!

that's as far as i have planned for the story, the rest of it just concepts for now. one idea for it i'm playing with is wren coming to find toroh, believing him to not be dead like everyone claims. then shenanigans ensue when he finds toroh with two strangers who bicker all the time,

the second thing i'm working on is with my partner, the name for now i've been thinking of is pumpkin pickers! they all have pumpkins for their heads, and hunt ghosts/monsters together! the blue pumpkin, ajax, is the main character who is mute and the one most passionate about this. orange is his older half brother who has taken on a dadly role for him! red, quinn, is a hot head who is very emotional and dates around. sunny is the yellow one, who is emotional in a different way, and the younger sister to quinn. white, jessica, is a typical mean girl, and bestfriends with sunny and green. green is extremely chill, could not care any less about most things,

the third thing i've been working on is more of a world building project! it's about a government that has past a thing called the endowment act, which puts laws on people born with magic, magic called endowment and those who have it called the endowed! the circles are the legally recognized and allowed endowment, with enforces called the jury of endowed,

those who don't abide by the act face punishment of imprisonment, death, or arguably the worst one, having their endowment ripped from them. some endowed have asked for the third, it's rare, but life for the endowed can sometimes be a whole hell of a lot rougher than those not

[theshortstoriesofamadman-blog]

How Faun: Age of Darkness came to be.

Faun has been four, maybe five years in the making. How did it take you so long, I hear you ask? Was it self doubt? Was it lack of resources? Was it a psychotic breakdown? Well, my friend. I'll tell you, it was a bit of everything. All of the above, if you will.

One day I was in lockdown when a friend of mine started brainstorming with me over Facebook about creating a strong female character, one who didn't just become great because the writer needs her to be. Mary Sues get on my nerves. As if women have to be amazing at all times, as if being weak is in itself, a weakness, and not a point for potential growth.

I wanted to create a badass character who was still relatable, one who had compassion and was naive and above all, queer. I wanted a high fantasy woman who had a girlfriend, and didn't die or marry a man. I wanted a woman who earned her place at the top of her character arc. I wanted real queer representation, not just storyboard cutouts.

Then came my psychotic breakdown.

I won't say a lot about my psychotic breakdown, only that my mind was returned to me the worse for wear.

After that, I worked in childcare for one summer. Then I decided I never wanted to work in childcare again, and looked for a project to keep me occupied. I started writing short horror scripts for a man who said he was going to produce me, but was really just stringing me along for no reason.

Finally I looked at what I had left: The old script I had worked on throughout my sickness. Throughout turmoil and adversity and a kid being sick in his own hands, there it was. A five episode script. The one my supposed "producer" (let's call him BG) said he would produce, with little effect and no talk of financial contracts or onset photos, nothing to show that he was actually taking any of my work seriously.

I decided then and there, I would get Faun made. Whether it was through a producer or using my own limited capital, I would make my own dream of putting Faun out there a reality.

But how to get it out there? As a film script it was good, but I had no access to people who knew about filming and angles and cuts and so on. I could have learned it all myself in the lockdown but for my depression and the fact that I am a terrible learner. There was also the problem of the settings. A rustic pub? Where would I find one that didn't look modern, locally? This is why many of the first episodes take place in settings such as a field or a tent or a church.

I could submit it to a contest, but free ones are few and far between and finding one you don't have to pay for, thereby lining the pockets of the contest throwers, is a hard thing to do. Then it came to me: Any arsehole with a microphone and an idea can create a podcast.

So I took to instagram and declared: I have finally finished the script for Faun (I hadn't, it took about a year of drafting and redrafting to get it to a place I was happy with it ), either it now gets produced as a radio play or I turn it into a podcast.

Then came the fateful message from a friend of an old project, it went something like: "I have about 10 people I know personally in need of voice reel footage who would love to be in Faun." And so, with nothing else to do besides looking at all my old successful uni friends on Facebook and going on dates with women out of my league and British Asian men looking for a practice girl before settling down in a nice arranged marriage, I decided to give it a go.

And indeed, here we are dear reader. I hope you will follow me on this journey, on my blog and on my podcast. All 8 of you, I value each and every one of you as though you were my own friends.

Enjoy listening, and remember, follow your dreams even if they're fucking stupid.

[lizabethstucker]

And Put Away Childish Things by Adrian Tchaikovsky

3 out of 5

A Netgalley ARC, courtesy of Solaris Books. Anticipated release date is March 28, 2023.

Although actor Harry Bodie was currently employed, it was only as a presenter on a popular children's television series. Despite twenty=five years working in the entertainment business, his career was still not as secure as he had hoped to be by 40. Frustrated and desperate, Bodie is convinced by his agent to appear on a genealogy show. He assumed the primary focus would be on his grandmother Mary Bodie, author of the Underhill book series. Then he discovers a dark hidden secret about his great-grandmother, sending him into an alcoholic down=spiral.

One drunken night Harry sees a faun straight out of the books. He's no longer a child wishing for impossible things, but perhaps he can find his way back to that innocent time. as it appears the Land of Underhill really exists. Unfortunately it isn't as it once appeared. Can Harry save Underhill and its remaining residents or is it past time for a childhood fantasy to fade away?

The premise is definitely interesting. I found the choice of an adult male protagonist to be different. Sadly I found Harry unlikeable in the extreme almost throughout the book. It wasn't until things were at their worst that he showed some redeeming features. Character and execution are the weakest parts of the book, although i can recognize the talents of the author. This is the first Adrian Tchaikovsky story that I've ever read, so I had nothing to base my responses to in comparison to his other works.

The Narnia books are such a heavy influence to the point of being blatantly mentioned throughout. Sadly, despite my love of that series, I alternated here between boredom and annoyance. However there were flashes of brilliance, particularly as the end approached. I found the ending, in my opinion, to be how fictional worlds read and loved by children can come alive, but once no one reads them any longer, the lands begin to disappear, no matter how much the inhabitants try to stop that disintegration..

Pet peeve? The use of COVID. It wasn't necessary as far as I could see. Although I suppose it was a great explanation as to how Harry wasn't kicked out of his apartment for non-payment of rent.

There is without a doubt an audience for this standalone fantasy. Perhaps I've become too jaded and old to appreciate this unique view of hidden lands and overage Chosen Ones. If the premise intrigues you, I encourage you to read it.

(Review cross-posted on Goodreads, StoryGraph, and Tumblr, with a link on Twitter.)

[sing-you-fools]

This is funny because I'm in the middle of a reread of that exact series. I didn’t read the entire blog post there (it is very long and I feel like I'll find it more interesting post-reread) but I read a fair bit of it. I do think the narrative ends up treating Corbin well in the end, but since we get each section in third person limited and we don't see in his head until later, so we mostly get how the other characters feel about him, and yeah, Sissix really hates him. (And once you've run into her culture, it's more understandable why those two specifically butt heads so intensely.) I don't think the book as a whole treats him the way her sections do, though it's totally understandable why that would put you off, and I do wish we got more from his pov earlier.

And. Okay. I'm having trouble expressing this thought but I'm going to try.

I find it very frustrating when every fantasy or alien race is immediately treated by any reader/reviewer as "a symbol for [x]." I find it limiting.

As writers, we only have the world around us to inspire us. When we write fantasy or sci-fi, this world bleeds through no matter how much we try to separate from it. You can spend all your time meticulously crafting a bunch of different alien species, building their societies, figuring out how they're structured, and so on, but we still only have real life to inspire us, or give us ideas, and yes, people will pick up on it. But as soon as they say "oh, the aliens are a metaphor for queerness!" then anything else is mixing metaphors and confusing the message and teaching readers the wrong lesson! But if the author were to say, okay, aliens represent queerness, and stick loyally to that, it would be too heavy-handed, too obvious, too boring.

We can't write an alien species that handles gender completely differently from how we do without "sending the wrong message about trans people."

Do the aliens represent queerness, or does Ashby and Pei's relationship make this particular reviewer think of how gay relationships used to be? Did the reviewer consider how mixed race relationships used to be? So why do they jump to this straight couple representing queerness instead of that? Do "the aliens" as a whole have to represent anything at all? Can we not just write some cool aliens for a fun story? Can we not accept that each alien race is a disco ball, each mirror of which may, yes, reflect back a different aspect of our own society?

I've seen the exact same criticism aimed at Pratchett, too, and I just don't know what an author is supposed to do. What I am supposed to do. There aren't many Fauns left and this one has kind of a hippie nature dude sort of vibe and suddenly I'm having visions of a reviewer who decided the fauns are a metaphor for indegeneity and is furious at me over the reveal that this faun's talking out eir ass and doesn't know shit, and now I'm canceled for my convoluted political message when I was just trying to write one fantasy creature who kinda sucks.

And - okay, I'm sorry, but "every species only seems to have one language/culture/etc" - fine, go ahead and write a book with this many distinct species and make up a whole fuckton of different cultures and languages for each of them if you want, but it's certainly not expected within the genre, and fuck. Worldbuilding is hard enough as it is. No one has time for that. That's weak criticism based in completely unrealistic expectations. Not doing a Tolkien level of worldbuilding for a hundred different species.

And the politics. Everything is political, yes. There are political implications to all our choices. Our politics will carry through in our writing, but that doesn’t mean we're sitting down with the intention of teaching a lesson every time we work on a story. I don't think Becky Chambers wrote this series with the intention of making anyone think real hard about politics, and I think we should be allowed to write a fun story where the politics aren't the point because something else is. So reviewing this series as if it's trying to teach a political message seems very strange to me. It's obviously not.

The whole thing in book 4, for example. I don't think suddenly giving us more info about that war is necessarily trying to teach us anything political. I think, yes, the author was informed by current events. I don’t think she was trying to tell us anything new about them, though. I think she was using them to hold up a mirror.

There's probably more I could say, but I only just started rereading book 2 last night (after I DNFed that other one) and I don't want to come back in a few weeks and be like, ah fuck I got all that wrong! so I'm gonna stop here. But Becky Chambers is one of my absolute favorite authors, and the impression I got from the first, I dunno, ten minutes of that review seemed like it was reviewing the series for not doing things it wasn't trying to do. Next time you need a warm hug of a book, I recommend her Monk and Robot series if you're soured on this one.

Started a book last night that I think has beaten my record for fastest DNF - made it through literally one page. One of those "the tone has such contempt for the genre that I'd rather just get hate mail from the author" situations. Like (I don't have it on me right now this is just me attempting to capture how it felt to read it): I'm Sparkle Queen. Yep, that's seriously my actual title. I know it sounds stupid as fuck but it's for real. Queen of Sparkles. And I have to do this thing. Seriously. Yeah, it's stupid and dumb, but I gotta do it, and there will be glitter which is gross and ugly and anyone who likes it sucks.

Anyway, if anyone's read Battle of the Linguist Mages and wants to tell me I'm wrong, please go ahead. It sounded good and I'm disappointed at how immediately it sucked.

(Second-fastest DNF prize goes to Playing the Palace, which mentioned so many brands by name in the first page and a half that it was all I could do not to throw it directly in the trash.)

[momolady]

Weresheep Girlfriend: Mary 3

It’s the finale.

Female Main Character x Female Reader 

I open the door and Mary falls inside. I kneel to pick her up, and am struck by her eyes. They look like sheep’s eyes, but are still the same crystal blue. Her hair is even more curly, and turning pure white. The tips of her fingers are very stiff and turning brown, and her legs look painfully bent. “What are you doing here?” I gasp.

Mary cries and wraps her arms around me. “It hurts!”

Demeter comes trotting over with the basket of mushrooms in her mouth. “Here!” I grab one and offer it to Mary. “Try these. They’re supposed to help.”

Mary whimpers. “I hate mushrooms!”

I roll my eyes. “It’ll help you! Trust me, you have to eat it.”

She hides her face against my shoulder, whimpering in pain. I huff and put the mushroom in my mouth. Then I lift Mary’s head and kiss her. She gasps in alarm, and I shove the mushroom inside. I keep kissing her, hoping she’ll swallow. Once she does, she sighs. The metamorphosis halts, but it doesn’t go away all at once. She lifts her head up, tears still streaming down her face.

“How did you get here?” I whisper to her.

She sniffles. “I didn’t know what else to do. I started walking through the woods when I saw my eyes begin to change. My parents have traps set all around the house after what I told them. I knew I couldn’t go back there.”

I sit beside Mary and mop up her face. “It’s okay now. These mushrooms should help, whether you like it or not.”

Mary leans into my palm. “Thank you, Bo.”

I smile softly at her. “You have buck teeth again.”

“What?” she blurts and covers her mouth. “Don’t be cruel! I’ve suffered enough tonight! But I won’t suffer those teeth again!”

I try to keep from laughing, but it’s hard. “Like when you were little, only bigger somehow!”

Mary shoves me. “Don’t tease!”

I look at her with a large smile on my face. “I’m not! I always liked your teeth. You were my little bunny, remember?”

Mary’s eyes soften, and she lowers her hand. “I remember.”

“I miss that,” I murmur. “When we were kids.”

Mary nods, stretching her legs out before her. They’re shaped like a faun’s and covered in thick white wool. “So do I.”

I move my hand and place it over hers. “Why did that change?”

She remains quiet for a long spell, until Demeter comes over and lays her head in her lap. Mary smiles, stroking her black wool and rubbing her ears. “She’s a very pretty ewe. Are you making yarn from her?”

“Working on it.”

Mary looks back at me. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly, her voice cracking as she gathers the nerve. “I know I became horrible when Braun announced the engagement. I tried to blame it on so many things, but it was me and just me.”

I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”

Her grimace crinkles her nose, and she avoids looking directly at me. “Because I was jealous.”

“Of me?” I laugh.

“No! Of Braun, my brother.” She looks me in the eye and pouts. “He got to marry you and I… I couldn’t…”

Demeter bleats and snuggles to Mary happily. Meanwhile, I can barely breathe to make any sort of sound.

“I loved you immensely, and when Braun said you were engaged, it choked the life out of me,” Mary sniffles. “I wanted to…”

“Oh, Mary,” I whisper.

She shakes her head and, when she tries to run her fingers through her hair, she grows frustrated by the curly wool on her head. “Don’t say a word. I don’t need it. I don’t blame you for hating me. I would too.”

“I don’t hate you.”

Mary looks at me. “I ruined everything, and when you needed me most, I was a thoughtless coward. You really should hate me.”

I shake my head. “I can’t.”

“And why not?”

I stretch my neck and kiss her, planting it on her cheek before moving to the side of her mouth. Her fingers caress the sides of my face, and I feel her lips move upon mine. The kiss is soft and warm, and I lean into the touch. As the kiss deepens, Mary turns her body towards me, leaning closer.

Demeter bleats and I slowly open my eyes and see her walking out the door with a waggle of her tail. Mary chuckles softly, touching her lips as she sits back. “I thought it was one-sided.”

“It was,” I murmur. “I never realized. I still barely can.” I look back at her and smile shyly. “I lost sight of what I wanted when I could no longer see you, though. Now that you’re here again, even if the situation is dire, I am happy.”

Mary kisses my cheek and neck. “I wish I was not a coward. I have wasted so much time without you.”

I wake in the morning with Mary in my lap. Sun shines through the cracks in the boards and hits me painfully in the eyes. I grumble irritably and try to swat it away. Mary rises, rubbing her eyes. They’ve returned to normal, as have her legs, but they are still covered in curly white wool. Her hair, too, has remained pure white.

“So it was not a dream,” Mary sighs sleepily.

“Sorry, it wasn’t.”

Mary cups her hands around my face and kisses me. “No, that’s a good thing.” Her smile is radiant, blinding me more than the sunlight. “I should probably head home. But this is awful. I can’t go home looking like this.”

“I can shear the wool, if you like.” I stand and go to the tools on the wall.

“Will it hurt?”

I carefully take her leg. “Of course not.” I tend to her legs, shearing off the white wool gently and slowly. I run my hands up her long legs, marveling at how perfect they are. Mary’s cheeks redden as I touch her, and I notice her thighs press together. When I finish, there is a pile on the floor beside her. I gather it up and stuff it into a bucket.

“Thank you,” she sighs heavily. “Now, I really should go. My parents must be worried.”

“I can take you back, if you’d like.”

Mary kisses me again, bending down so she can meet my lips. “Stay here. Take care of your father.” She brushes my hair away from my face and tucks it behind my ear.

“Take some of these.” I offer her a handful of the mushrooms. “Eat some through the day, and especially before the sun sets.”

She sneers, curling up her lip at the sight of them. “I hate mushrooms.”

“For me?”

Mary kisses me again. “Fine. I’ll try.”

I walk with her to the gates, waving goodbye as she walks away. I leave the roving to be finished later and go back to bed. Though I am perturbed by the kisses we shared, I go back to the house and begin making breakfast. While I am cooking, my father wakes, none the wiser to what happened the night before. I contemplate telling him about Henry, but the conundrum of how I might explain the situation and what he might say in return makes me remain silent.

There is a knock at the door. My father answers to find the constable outside, with Demeter beside him. The constable says that the stolen sheep were found in one of the stone buildings belonging to Mary’s family. “It was abandoned, or so the master of the house said,” the constable says. “It looked like someone was living there, so they’re starting to destroy the excess stone buildings. Lady Mary claimed to have seen something stalking around the farm a few nights ago. Her folks almost trapped something last night, but all they got was a finger. But, this little ewe was one of the ones locked up. Mary said I should return it right away.”

“Could’ve kept this one. My daughter brought it home. But thank you for letting us know,” my father says.

He takes Demeter back to the barn, then lets out the remaining sheep. When he comes back, I see a smile on his face. He laughs when he sees me. “I bet they’re kicking themselves, the whole town, right about now. Blaming us this whole time. Now they have to eat crow.”

“I doubt we’ll get an apology,” I murmur.

He shrugs. “Maybe not. But I bet you’ll see them being a whole lot nicer to us now that Lady Mary cleared things up.”

I go out to find Demeter in the field with the other sheep. She trots up to me and nudges her head under my hand. “What did you do?” I whisper to her.

“That show of affection you and your girlfriend had last night gave me the juice I needed. I went and found Braun, and sent him to Henry.” She looks smug. “I’m sure Henry will be able to help him now.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t cure their condition?”

“No! Of course not, but like minds need like minds. That’s why Mary needed you.” Demeter wags her little tail. “And now, Braun can be safe, Mary can be safe, and you get to keep your girlfriend.”

“She’s-” I stop myself and smile. “Well, okay. Thank you, Demeter.”

Later that afternoon, people begin coming to the farm, asking my Dad how things are and whether the farm is okay. After that, food is dropped off - big loaves of bread, pies, even some cured meats. A few days later, people even begin bringing back animals they had taken from us a few years ago, or replacing the ones they did take. We have goats again, more sheep. It’s gotten so busy settling these new animals, I haven’t spun the wool yet.

Knowing we need funds to make repairs, I get back to it. I’ve noticed the golden strands in the fibers when I was carding it, but as I spin it, the wool turns completely into gold. The black disappears as it goes around the spinning wheel, turning into fine, pure gold. It is like a miracle, but I know it has to be something Demeter has been aiming for all along.

The gold yarn is sold for a high price to several bidders. Some pay  in excess to get one of the bundles of yarn. My father and I are able to repair our tools, the barn, our home. We are able to hire staff again and begin production on the goat’s milk products like we used to.

Since word has spread about our miraculous golden yarn, Demeter has become the prize of our farm. During the nights, I keep her locked in my bedroom with me, often allowing her to sleep beside me in my bed. I enjoy putting my arms around her and snuggling against her back. My father thinks I am crazy for wanting to sleep with a sheep, but he lets it be. He doesn’t know the full truth about Demeter.

Mary has been coming around more as well, and the effects of her transformations are growing less and less traumatic for her. In fact, only during the week of a full moon does the change fully take effect upon her. Mary has begun staying the night with us as well, sometimes staying so long my father insists upon it.

I feel awkward sometimes with Demeter in the room, but affection is how her powers grow. But on nights when Mary stays over, sometimes we don’t exactly sleep much. We kiss often, touching lots. We giggle and whisper under the cloak of darkness, pressing our bodies close to one another.

Finally, one night, I can no longer take it. I kiss Mary, moving so that her back is pressed onto the bed. I stroke my hands down the velvety skin on her arms. She arches her back at the touch, moaning against my lips until I kiss down her neck. She stretches, sighing as my lips press down her arm and onto her fingertips. I straddle her hips, looking down at her like I did my fiancé so many years ago. I hadn’t thought about that night in so long. I push away the sad thought and strip off my nightgown.

Mary reaches up, cupping my breasts in her palms and squeezing gently. “I knew they would be beautiful. But then again, every breast I have seen has been perfect because of the creature who wears them.” Her thumbs flick over the nipples, and a smile perks the corners of her lips.

I press myself further into her palms. “How many have you seen, exactly?”

Mary laughs. “It doesn’t matter. None of them were yours.” She rises up off the bed, removing her night gown as well. Her breasts are small and perky, while mine are full and soft. She kisses my neck and chest, nuzzling her face between my bosom.

Demeter gets up and bleats, causing Mary and I to freeze. But the sheep only leaves the room, pushing the door open, and I reach out and shut it when she’s gone. We both start laughing and fall back onto the bed.

I kiss Mary again, grabbing hold of her arms as her hands move down my back. I feel the heat within me come to the surface, melting my skin so that all she touches is raw nerve. Her fingers slip between us, touching me below where the heat is strongest. She breathes into my ear as her fingers rub circles against my mound. Her tongue bathes my skin, moving down my neck and between my breasts. She lays me back in bed, spreading open my thighs and laying them over her shoulders. Her fingers find the little bud above my labia, teasing it gently while she watches me. My breath hitches, and my voice comes out cracked but elated.

“Delicious little thing this is.” Mary’s tongue darts over it, and I can feel her fangs against my thighs. “So sweet and sensitive, but so very easily forgotten.” She blows on it while her finger rubs around it.

“Mary!” I whine.

“Is it too much?” she chuckles. “Perhaps I should coax you here for a while.” She slips two long fingers inside, moving them slowly.

I bite my lip and throw my head back. That night with my fiancé before he went to war felt awkward. He had gone inside me after a few moments of kissing, and he struggled getting himself into place. Something didn’t feel right then, but something feels extremely right with Mary. Her long fingers stir my insides while her other hand squeezes around my breast. She makes me so wet I can feel it seeping out and onto the sheets.

Mary laps it up, moaning under her breath. Then she sits up, tying back her long white hair.  “Now, let’s see.” She uses both hands to open me. “Such a beautiful sight. Everything is plump and eager.” Her eyes look like a sheep’s again as she stares at me, glowing almost ice-blue in the dim light. I fidget in her palms, but she holds my hips still.

“Not to worry, my love, you will come to crave every kiss I give you.” She lifts my hips up off the bed and pulls me up so I am almost upside down. My legs dangle over her shoulders as she bends her head down. I feel her slick tongue squirm around on me, and it plunges inside me while her finger glides over that sensitive bud.

I moan and whimper, throwing my head to the side as she holds me up against her mouth. Mary’s slurping fills my ears while a fog fills my sight. She growls against me, pushing her tongue deeper inside me. I feel myself almost frothing at the sensation. I never felt this good with my fiancé. Mary touches me in places that make me feel unhinged and excited. I have to cup my hand around my mouth out of fear my father will somehow hear my sounds of pleasure, but I still make so many.

Mary coaxes something powerful and deep from me. It erupts inside my belly and pools through my body, taking away any other sensation besides this release. My toes curl, my back arches, and I sink slowly against her. Mary lays me back down against the bed and rests herself on top of me. She places her head on my breast, and I begin to rub my hands down her back.

“You feel things so strongly, Bo,” she whispers into my ear.

“It was my first orgasm from someone else,” I pant.

Mary kisses my cheek and nuzzles into my hair. “The first of many.”

“What about you?” I sigh. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ll show you later,” she kisses my cheek. “Right now, I want you to enjoy this first so you can remember it.”

In the morning, I wake with Mary still on top of me. I don’t want to move her, but eventually she does rise. I kiss her lovingly, then make her breakfast. Then I take her out with me and the sheep that day. Demeter’s wool is as thick as it was when I first met her. I shear her and begin the process of making wool again, telling Mary about it as I do.

I bring Mary to the mossy valley where Henry had been, and possibly Braun was, but when we arrive, I find his home abandoned and his pigs gone. I tell her we should pick mushrooms while we are there, so we can have her a good supply. “Did someone live here?” Mary asks me.

“The big bad wolf,” I tell her.

I decide to take care of the shack, hoping Henry will return one day and we can truly reunite. I make the cabin into my own personal escape, somewhere I can spin my gold yarn with Demeter, and be with Mary in comfort and privacy.

“Tell me, can you?” I ask Demeter one day. “Where did he go?”

“I can’t say,” she murmurs. “But the big bad wolf will roam this land to find peace. Hopefully, he will come across it one day.”

I pray I will see my brother again. I don’t think he’s big and bad, but I cannot say what the changes have done to him. All I can do is wait and pray the next word I receive is good. Until then, I’ll keep his house warm, and I leave a bundle of gold yarn for him in case he needs it.

Mary comes into the house with a snack for me. “What do you think people do with gold yarn?” she asks.

“Something ridiculous, I am sure.” I kiss Mary softly and return to spinning the yarn, watching it shift from black to gold. Mary sits down beside me, taking one of the bundles into her hands. “Have you ever tried spinning my wool into anything? Perhaps I make silver.” She gives me a smile.

I smile back at her and kiss her. “Should I try? I still have a bundle back at the barn.”

“I’m curious.” She sets the yarn aside and kisses my cheek. “Come take a break with me,” she whispers.

“Of course, my love,” I giggle.

[monstersandmaw]

This isn't a criticism of yours or any other writers work but I don't get reader inserts at all. Like " He runs his fingers through your long blonde hair " [looks in mirror and sees shaved head]... ya know? It's never as immersive of a story for me as writers think it is? Or am I just missing something here? Genuinely asking for your thoughts and again not trying to insult anyones preferences.

I think you make a lot of valid points, Anon, and there are certainly lots of folks out there who really don’t enjoy second person stories at all. It might surprise you to learn that I’m actually part of that group as a general rule, even though I have written a heck of a lot of them for this blog!

A lot of the issues with second person being jarring to read come from exactly what you’ve said; they’re too specific. It can also be because second person by its very nature is limiting for an author.

When writing a second person story, the author’s own experiences and (often unknown) biases are undoubtedly going to seep through, almost without exception. This happens through dialogue, plot, choice of setting, characters, and descriptions. It’s something I’m not sure you can ever really completely avoid as a writer, and I certainly don’t manage it in mine, even though I aim for neutrality and/or variety. If any one of those elements is ‘off’ then it can put a reader of a second person story right off because it’s fundamentally unrelatable.

Second person stories also require the reader’s imagination to be a little more active than third or first person ones do. Unless you commissioned that story from an author, specifically about you, with lots of extensive discussion about circumstances and details, then it’s not a story about you at all. It is a story which asks you to step into someone else’s shoes, and imagine that the action is taking place around you, to you, as one of the dramatis personae if you like, but not as yourself as you exist in the world, reading that story. You have to pretend; you have to take part actively in the storytelling. This is one of the reasons people enjoy it as a voice. They can be someone else for a while, but still experience the events of the story on a personal level.

For some people, that imaginative leap is an ask too far though, and they find themselves disconnected from the story, and do not want to engage with it. Their preferences lie in reading the stories of other people and living through it more as an observer than a participant. Both preferences are valid, and people may want to read stories in different voices depending on their mood at the time. None of them is ‘better’ than the other. They just require a different state of mind, I think.

Things I’ve learned from writing almost exclusively second person for this blog over the last few years include:

don’t talk about the reader’s hair colour, length or texture in any real detail

same for the colour, shape, and size of eyes, and details about the skin

if you want your 'reader’ to be embarrassed, avoid saying that their cheeks turned red or that they blushed. You could say flushed, I suppose, because that (to me anyway) implies temperature, rather than colour

talk about their height relative to the other characters’ stature but not in isolation - for me it’s easier I realise since I write about monsters who often have distinctive ‘categories’ when it comes to height and size. A minotaur or orc, for example, will pretty much always tower over most humans, even the really tall ones, while a faun, goblin, or other smaller being might well be shorter. It’s not a hard and fast rule that works all the time, but you can definitely be vaguer about heights if you want to be more inclusive with second person

be vague on background details like family. Not everyone is best friends with their mother, or has siblings, but sometimes it might be necessary to the plot to include references to family, so keep it pretty vague and the reader can gloss over those details if they don’t relate personally. I’m an only child, for instance, but I don’t object to a ‘reader’ with a sibling. I can just pretend, but for other people, that might break their immersion.

I hope that helps explain a bit about why some folks enjoy second person stories. Part of it depends on the way it’s written, and part of it depends on the reader themselves.

If you want to add anything to this, folks, feel free! It’s getting late in the day here and my brain is running out of thoughts!

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

As It Should Be ~ Lucy x Caspian

A/N: Hello lovelies, so this is well out of my wheel house. But thanks to Shadow and Bone I am well and truly back on my Ben Barnes Bullshit. Which included re-watching the Narnia movies and then I had some feels. I'm completely ignoring the books and this is way AU but I couldn't get it out of my head. So if there's any Lucian shippers out there, this ones for you. Spoilers for the movies.

Summary: Lucy had not been ready to leave Narnia. And Caspian had not been ready for her to go. Perhaps fate still had a plan.

Characters/Pairings: Lucy Pevensie/Caspian (everyone is of age, time works funny between the realms); Edmund Pevensie, Aslan

Warnings: Fluff, a little bit of angst, pining, spoilers for the movies.

Word count: 5800 (I don't know how it happened. I just had a lot of feels)

Caspian’s voyage on the Dawn Treader had been a success on all counts. But in spite of his resolve to be a great king of Narnia and to treasure the lands and people he had been chosen to rule, the young king was sorrowful on their return journey. His crew had known better than to question him when he returned alone from Aslan’s country. Drinian put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Caspian clasped it for a moment before giving him a meaningful nod. Drinian got the Dawn Treader sailing for home while Caspian ducked below deck for just a moment to mourn the loss of his friends. When he returned, his smile was not quite so bright as it had been when the king and queen of old had been on the ship.

The crew was happy to be going home, but they also felt the loss of their companions quite acutely. It had taken no time at all for them to love Lucy and Edmund. The younger of the Kings and Queens of old were kind and hardworking and had immediately treated them as old friends. Narnia they supposed was their great love. And while Eustace had taken some extraordinary circumstances to warm up to, he too was missed, and they all found the ship far too silent with Reepicheep’s running commentary.

Their return took nearly six months as they returned all those who had been taken by the mist to their home islands. So, while the crew was joyous to be returning home after nearly two years, everyone was weary when they finally docked on the shores beneath Cair Paravel. Drinian directed the landing team, as more sailors came to help them unload. Caspian gazed up at Cair Paravel in all its glory. It had been mostly restored before he departed, but now, it was back to its true grandure, he wished Lucy and Edmund could have seen this.

He had only a moment before his advisors were upon him, welcoming him back and informing him that a feast was already being prepared for his return. They clamored for his attention, luckily with good news. They each were reporting that peace remained and things had grown even more bountiful in the past six months. Caspian listened carefully making notes on what to discuss with them tomorrow, before finally excusing himself to clean up before the feast.

After what could only be described as the most delicious meal he’d ever had, Caspian took his time reacquainting himself with the halls of his castle. During his time away, the team in charge of the interior restoration had finished all of their projects, which included the portraits of the Pevensies at the height of their rule. He inspected each one closely, trying to find the familiar features of his friends in the older faces.

For the most part he could see it. Although it was odd to see them at that age - all older than his 23 years. Well, all but Lucy. She had been just shy of 21 when they tumbled back through the wardrobe. She was the only one who never mentioned how hard it was to go from being an adult back to being an 8 year old. But he suspected that she struggled more than she let on, though she would never tell her siblings while they suffered their own distress. His thoughts lingered on the youngest of the great kings and queens. He couldn’t help but wonder if his dear friend would look the same when she reached 20 again.

Her portrait hung beside her sister’s and one could easily spot the differences. Susan held a quiet beauty, befitting her title of Gentle. But even the stillness of a portrait could not tame Lucy’s wild beauty and adventurous spirit. He knew well the twinkle of excitement the artist had captured. It was one that never failed to bring a smile to his face.

Caspian had been captivated by Lucy during their time on the Dawn Treader. More than he’d been willing to admit, even to himself. Though he suspected Edmund had seen it. He’d even expected a brotherly talk at one point, since Peter was absent. But he merely smiled, and took every opportunity to let them be together. Drinian had also made more than a few subtle comments, but Caspian had chosen to remain silent.

While the young prince had had eyes only for Susan upon their first meeting in terms of amorous intentions, Lucy’s unwavering faith and goodness had endeared her to him. When she stood across the river with only a dagger in her hand, facing down an army with a smile he could see why she of the four was the Valiant. She was amazing, even at age 11.

Her return 3 years later, had only deepened that opinion. She had matured and Caspian found himself lost in her. He’d been telling the truth when he told her that he hadn’t found a queen as beautiful as Susan, but what he left out was that there had been none as fierce as her either.

The pair had spent every possible moment together – stargazing, checking maps, telling stories. He loved her stories. Queen Lucy the Valiant had truly been a queen of her people. While her siblings had often been on the frontlines of battle, Lucy had always been protecting the people – evacuating them, learning from the healers how to dress wounds that didn’t require her cordial. She was the most beloved of the four, even in the stories Caspian had heard before he met them. Though she would refute that claim a thousand times over.

Other stories were filled with tales of dancing with fauns and dryads. Mr. Tumnus was a frequent character, and Caspian could hear the heartache in her voice when she spoke about him. He would often take the opportunity to squeeze her hand in comfort, which she also responded to with a grateful smile. Edmund would often join in, offering tales of his own or teasing Lucy.

One time in particular, he felt the need to remind her of the time a suitor had come to court and she had been so used to dancing with the fauns during their revelries that she panicked when he had offered his hand for a formal dance.

“All you could hear in the ballroom was Tristan grunting and Lucy apologizing,” Edmund chuckled.

Lucy’s cheeks flamed red and she glared at her brother for a moment, before a smirk slid across her features.

“At least I didn’t end up in a fountain after my first kiss,” she shot back.

Edmund’s cheeks tinged ever so slightly, but his expression was wistful.

“She was lovely. And it was worth it. I hope she had a good life.”

“I’m sure she did. But I’m sure she missed you.”

The siblings shared a look, regrets and memories flowing through their minds. Once again, Caspian was struck by how much life and loss these two “children” had experienced.

Later that night, after confirming their course with Drinian, Caspian was ready to retire to the barracks area for a few hours of sleep. But as he passed his quarters which he had given to Lucy, he heard humming. Moving as quietly as he could, he neared the cabin, noting the slightly ajar door. Caspian couldn’t help the smile that crossed his lips as he watched Lucy dance to her own tune as she looked in the mirror, the steps somewhat disjointed. He slipped inside, leaning against the doorjamb, making sure she couldn’t see his reflection.

“Would you like a partner?” he finally asked.

Lucy jumped at the unexpected voice, whirling as her cheeks filled with color upon realizing she’d been caught.

“Caspian! I was just… Edmund made me remember and I thought I’d practice.”

“In case we have a ball on the Dawn Treader?” he asked, grinning wildly at her.

“Of course. I’ve been to many balls on ships,” she giggled before sobering slightly. “No, but there’s dances back home. And I’ve never been, but I suspect they don’t much care for the type of dancing the fauns and dryads do.”

The mention of home twisted in Caspian’s gut, but he pushed the thought away. He would enjoy what time he had with her. Each moment was a gift.

“Well, I don’t know how they dance in your world, but it always helps to have a partner. May I?”

She nodded, uncharacteristically shy.

He snapped to attention and made a formal bow, which made her laugh but she curtsied anyway before taking his hand. He pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles, before placing her hand on his shoulder. His right hand fell to her waist, he his left clasped hers firmly.

“’Ready?”

“Absolutely?”

He wasn’t positive, but they both sounded breathless.

He began to hum, counting the beats by gently tapping his fingers against her side. He gave it a count of 8 before he began to move. It was rough at first, they were both out of practice… and nervous if he was being honest. But after a few crushed toes, they found their rhythm and soon they seemed to float. Caspian waltzed her around the room, twin smiles adorning their faces. Before they knew it, they were simply swaying in place gazing into each other’s eyes.

“I wonder if Susan is dancing like this with her naval officer,” Lucy wondered aloud, regretting it the moment it slipped past her lips. “Oh, I’m sorry, Caspian. I wasn’t thinking.”

He chuckled and shook his head.

“Don’t worry, Lucy. I’m not upset. I’m happy that your sister is moving on with her life. No one deserves to be alone.”

“But you’re alone,” Lucy pointed out.

Not cruelly, more confused by his logic.

“I’m not alone right now. I’m with you.”

And I will take that, he thought to himself. Just this moment and whatever else I get.

“Susan and I are worlds apart. In more ways than one,” he added slyly.

Lucy gazed up at him, no longer swaying at all.

“Caspian, I-“

At that moment, the ship lurched sending her crashing into his arms. It lurched again and sent them both to the floor. A storm had reached them and they heard the crew members racing about on deck. They shared one more moment before sprinting into action.

“Your majesty.”

His chief advisor’s voice jostled Caspian from his memories.

“Lord Pallburn. How can I help you?”

“You requested updates on the refugees and the five lords.”

“Of course. We shall speak on the way to my chambers.”

Caspian shot one last look at Lucy’s portrait before leading his advisor away.

Lucy sighed quietly as she watched the happy couple spin around the dance floor.

Years ago, on a ship a world away, Lucy had been held like that. Her thoughts strayed to Caspian and his near obsidian eyes. She had thought of him often in the years since. She wondered how long it had been for him.

Was he married by now?

A father?

Dead?

No.

Her heart couldn’t bear that last one. She had to believe Caspian was alive and well and happy or she wouldn’t be able to carry on.

She shook the thoughts away and returned to the view in front of her.

Susan was absolutely radiant in her wedding dress. Her smile lit up the room as Tom held her in his arms, leaning down for a peck as the song ended. They held hands as they exited the dance floor to chat with their friends.

Peter had his younger daughter, Jane, balanced on the top of his shoes as he moved them about in a decent facsimile of a waltz. Lucy smiled as she remembered her oldest brother doing the same with her when she was much younger.

Edmund was sitting with his girlfriend Margaret and their cousin Eustace laughing quite merrily.

With the exception of her cousin, Narnia had taken on the golden tint of a fond memory. But a memory none the less. Her siblings had been content to leave it at that. Lucy could not find it in her to do the same. Narnia had always felt more like home than this world. A fractured childhood would do that to you she supposed. After all she had grown up in Narnia first.

She still knew their customs and constellations better than England’s. But she knew it wasn’t just that. Her heart lay in Narnia, or rather with the King of Narnia. Caspian had a way of making Lucy feel seen when others didn’t.

“Enjoying the party, Lu?”

She nodded as she looked to Edmund who had slipped into the seat beside her.

“It’s wonderful. Everyone is having so much fun.”

“Everyone?”

“I’m having fun,” she insisted, knowing Edmund could see right through her.

“Talk to me.”

She looked again to the dance floor, eyes flitting from couple to couple.

“Do you think that I could ever find that here?”

“Love?”

Lucy nodded again.

“What makes you think you won’t?” he pressed, avoiding her question.

“I can’t imagine finding anyone to share my life with like that. There’s so much I couldn’t tell them. I don’t know how you all do it.”

Edmund hummed in response.

“Narnia meant everything to me. It made me who I am, but the only one who needs to know about it for it to be real is me. And I’m lucky enough that I got to share it with you, and Peter, Susan, and Eustace. Margaret doesn’t need to know what made me the man I am. Only that that man is someone she wants to be with.”

Lucy regarded her brother carefully for a moment. He’d clearly put a lot of thought into this and she appreciated it.

“I guess that makes sense. I guess I’m not ready to admit that Narnia is my past. Even though I have to.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“Is that the only reason you think you won’t find love here?”

Lucy knew where he was going with this, and finally she sighed – more an exhale after holding one’s breath.

“I think I loved him,” she whispered, not needing to specify who “him” was.

“Loved?” he clarified.

“Love,” Lucy corrected.

“He loves you too for what it’s worth. I could see it. Clear as the Northern Sky.”

“I don’t think it matters much. We’re worlds apart now. He’s probably married by now. I’m not sure how I managed it, but it seems I’ve left my heart in Narnia.”

Edmund wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her into his side. She leaned her head heavily against his shoulder.

“What has been lost, can be found. We just need to have faith about these things. You taught me that.”

Lucy smiled at the reassurance.

“Thank you, Edmund.”

“Anything for you. Would you like to dance? We can even pretend we’re at Tumnus’,” he offered.

Lucy shook her head, but smiled more genuinely than she had all night.

“I think I’m going to take advantage of the gardens, and get some fresh air.”

“It’s not like there isn’t air inside,” he joked making her roll her eyes.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Edmund nodded and squeezed her once more before letting her go.

“Be safe.”

Lucy slipped through the crowd unnoticed, as usual. After a few minutes walking through the gardens she happened upon the entrance to a hedge maze. Looking back at the lights of the reception, she took a deep breath and hurried into the maze, following the turns at random.

It couldn’t possibly be big enough for her to actually get lost.

Caspian perched on the rail of his balcony, one knee up as his back was pressed against the palace wall twirling Lucy’s dagger in his hand. If anyone entered his chambers they wouldn’t be able to see him unless they stepped outside. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the stone enjoying the cool breeze off the Eastern Sea. He had chosen this room specifically for the view of the water. It had always calmed him, and now it held an even more special place in his heart.

In the morning, he would return to his duties as king and this journey would leave the forefront of his mind to make room for diplomacy and logistics. And if his advisors had their way, finding a queen. But for now, as the wind whipped around him, he could imagine that he was back on the Dawn Treader. And if he listened closely enough, he could hear Lucy’s familiar humming. He allowed his mind to run wild with memories.

When the humming only grew louder, even after shaking himself from the sweet memories, Caspian grew concerned. Alert now for possible danger, he scanned the grounds for the source of the sound.

The beach was clear. As were the cliffs to the north. But as he turned his gaze to the south, a flash of auburn hair in the garden maze caught his eyes. She was deep within the heart of the garden without alerting the guards which was no easy feat.

Fastening his sword belt on, he sheathed Lucy’s dagger which she had gifted him on the shores of Aslan’s country.

“I think you’ll need this more than I will.”

“It shall never leave my side.”

You shall never leave my heart had remained unspoken.

Not wishing to alert the guards, Caspian scaled down the side of the castle, jumping from the lowest window and rolling to his feet.

The wind was carrying the humming to his ears quite clearly, as though it was actively helping him find the intruder. At the edge of the maze he took a deep breath before stepping inside. He allowed himself to be led through the turns by the voice, although he was nearly certain it must be a trap. Surely it was a siren or some spell luring him with his heart’s desire. But still he pursued her.

A few times it seemed they were just on the other side of the hedge from each other, but he would round the corner and find only a dead end.

Finally, he caught a flash of lavender fabric whooshing around the corner and he sped up as well as he could while maintaining his stealth. Lucy’s dagger fit comfortably in his hand. Peeking around the corner to ensure she was coming, he waited until she had passed by before leaping out and grabbing her, the dagger pressed against her throat.

“Who are you? And what are you doing here?”

She froze in his arms.

“Caspian?”

The woman squirmed in his grip enough to see his face and in his surprise he let her.

“It is you. How on Earth did you get here?” she asked.

“Lucy?” he mumbled as he released her and she turned to look at him, giving him his first good look at her.

“Yes, it’s me. I know I look a bit different. But goodness, you haven’t aged a day,”

“Lucy,” he repeated before dropping the dagger and pulling her into his arms, burying his face in her neck.

She held him just as fiercely as if he would disappear if she let go for even an instant.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured. “I thought of you every day.”

“As did I. How long has it been for you?” she asked as she lifted her head to look at him, unwilling to break their embrace any further.

“Six months and thirteen days.”

Lucy huffed out a little laugh.

“Is that all?”

Caspian already knew it had been much longer for her. Years, he guessed, given how much she looked like her portrait.

“How long?”

“Six years. Four months. Eleven days.”

She’d been counting. In spite of knowing that Aslan’s plans for Narnia did not include her.

“Oh, Lucy,” Caspian sighed.

Years. She had thought of him every day for years. The knowledge made his heart beat faster.

“It’s okay. You’re here now. How on Earth are you here?” she asked again.

Caspian glanced upward, just to ensure he hadn’t been transported to her world, but sure enough his stars remained, twinkling down at him.

“Lucy, you’re in Narnia.”

Whipping her head around to gain bearings she didn’t know she’d lost, Lucy’s expression clouded with confusion.

“But how? I was at the wedding. I just stepped out for a few minutes –“ She paused and shook her head with a serene smile. “Things never happen the same twice,” she murmured. “Or four times I suppose. I’m not sure how it’s happened, but I am glad to be home.”

Caspian’s heart both clenched and soared at the word home. But he was still stuck on the earlier revelation.

“You were at a wedding?”

His mind raced as he took in her demure dress and artful curls.

Six years, his mind screamed. Even if she had thought of him, of course she would have found someone else in that time.

“Yes,” she affirmed absent-mindedly. “Of Susan will be so cross I’ve left her wedding.”

Elation.

“Susan’s wedding?”

“Yes.” Lucy’s face dropped. “Oh, I’m sorry, Caspian.”

“So you are not married?” he asked, ignoring the apology.

Lucy’s laughter was a balm to his soul.

“Goodness, no. Not even close. The closest I’ve come to marriage was holding hands with Dennis Macmillian when we were 17. And even that was mainly because I was slipping on the ice. I’ve never even gone for a stroll with a boy.”

Caspian smiled, pulling back just enough to offer her his arm.

“Well then, please, allow me. It would be a shame to waste such a lovely Narnian evening.”

“So it would,” she agreed, looping her arms through his. “Tell me everything I’ve missed,” she insisted as they walked deeper into the maze.

“There’s not that much to tell you. We’ve only just arrived back to Cair Paravel this morning. It took us several months to return everyone to their homes before we could return. Beyond that, I’ve just received reports of peace in Narnia.”

“That’s wonderful, Caspian.”

“I’m sure your time has been far more interesting. Tell me everything.”

“Longer doesn’t always mean more interesting.”

Caspian shot her a look of disbelief.

“I’m telling the truth. After the Dawn Treader we stayed with Eustace until the end of the War. After that, once Susan, Peter, and our parents returned, I went back to school. I learned how to become a nurse.”

“Did you now?”

“Mhmm. Top of my class even. It’s been fascinating to learn, although I still think the healers here have a better bedside manner. And goodness have there been days where I wished for my cordial on the job.”

“It sounds intense.”

“It is. But I love it.”

Her smile confirmed it.

“It suits you,” he agreed.

“Besides all that, not much has changed for me. I spend most of my time working or with my family, though that’s been difficult of late.”

“Difficult? Why?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

“They’ve all become convinced I’m doomed to become an old maid. Well, not everyone I suppose. Mainly my parents and Susan. Peter would prefer it that way, over protective as he is. And Edmund, well he just wants me to be happy.”

Despite her comments, the fondness she had for her siblings still shone through.

“I’m sure they all want you to be happy.”

“I know that. I just wish they wouldn’t keep trying to set me up. I think falling in love should happen naturally.”

She glanced up at Caspian who was watching her closely.

“As do I. So it sounds to me that you’re turning suitors down left and right.”

“Hardly,” she scoffed. “Although I think Susan believes that she’ll have a better chance at marrying me off now that she’s officially taken. They’ll have to settle for the lesser Pevensie sister.”

Caspian narrowed his eyes at the assertion, footsteps coming to a halt as he turned to face her.

“In what way lesser?”

“In every way,” Lucy laughed humorlessly.

“You are Queen Lucy the Valiant. The most beloved Queen Narnia has ever seen,” he reminded her, continuing on before she could argue with him. “You are amazing. You are in no way lesser.”

His words made her smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“That may be who I am here. But in my world, I’m just Peter and Susan’s little sister. An afterthought.”

Caspian hated to hear her talk about herself like that.

“Then everyone in your world must be fools. You are valiant and beautiful in every world.”

Lucy found herself unable to hold his intense gaze.

“I’m not beautiful like Susan.”

He lifted her head up with a finger underneath her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Perhaps not. But you’re beautiful like you. And brave. And kind. And loving. And a million other wonderful things.”

“No one’s ever seen me the way you do.”

“It’s an honor to know you this way, Lucy.”

He reached up cradling her cheek before sliding his fingers into her hair.

“I love you.”

It was a relief to finally say it out loud, and her smile was well worth it.

“I love you too, Caspian. I have for a long time.”

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against hers.

“I was so scared I’d never see you again,” she whispered.

“I was too. I was certain that I’d lost my chance. But you’re here now.”

“I am.” She looked around and somehow he knew she was looking for Aslan. “But I still don’t know why.”

“I’m sure Aslan has his reasons.”

“He usually does,” Lucy agreed with a smile. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out in time. For now…”

“For now, I’m just going to be grateful. And enjoy every second of my time with you.”

“I like that plan.”

They walked through the gardens for a time before Caspian escorted her up to the castle.

Sure enough they spent the next few weeks enjoying their time together. In fact the entire kingdom rejoiced at the return of their queen. But with no indication as to why she was there, soon a quiet anxiety crept in.

Neither Lucy nor Caspian were willing to make too many plans when they didn’t know when she would be returning, so instead they focused on ensuring Narnia was well taken care of. Lucy helped Caspian reinstate the High Council so that every type of creature was represented. Caspian watched in awe as the land flourished and now that everyone had a voice they found it even easier to keep peace. In fact, many days it seemed there wasn’t much ruling to do at all. So he spent more time with his people than ever, which he loved.

And he grew to love Lucy more every day. He knew at some point that she would have to leave, to return to her family, but he also knew that he couldn’t bear to be without her. His decision was made, although he was sure that many would consider it selfish.

Which is why a year after she arrived, Caspian led Lucy into the maze he had found her in.

“This is quite lovely. We haven’t done this in a while. What brought this on?” she asked as they walked.

“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. And I have a question for you. And I thought this would be the best place to ask it.”

She tilted her head in question, noting the slight nervousness in his voice.

“What kind of question?”

“An important one.”

They had reached the center of the maze and Caspian led Lucy to sit on the edge of the fountain that contained a stone carving of Aslan. He hoped it would bring them the Great Lion’s blessing.

He took both her hands in his as he sat beside her on the edge of the fountain.

“Lucy, my love, ever since I first met you, you have been a source of strength and someone who I have never failed to believe in. On our first adventure I learned never to overlook you, and I am eternally grateful for learning that lesson. Because it allowed me to see you for who you are on our second adventure. On the Dawn Treader, I fell in love with you. And the day I had to say goodbye to you it felt as if my heart would never be whole again. But by the grace of Aslan, you were returned to me. And I have spent the past year falling more and more in love with you. I’m not sure how long we have left in Narnia, but I don’t want to waste another moment without asking you to be my wife.”

She gasped as Caspian shifted down onto one knee.

“There is no other I would bind myself to. I love you, Lucy Pevensie. And my only wish is to have you by my side for as long as you’ll have me. Will you marry me?”

“Of course.”

She tackled Caspian to the ground in a very unladylike move, and kissed him soundly.

“Of course I’ll marry you.”

Caspian’s smile was brilliant as he reached up to cradle her face before pulling her down for another kiss. They reveled in their new engagement alone for a while longer before deciding to return to the castle.

They were nearly out of the maze when they saw a flash of golden fur.

“Aslan?”

Lucy took off after the lion and Caspian was right on her heels. He couldn’t help but wonder at the timing.

They made it back to the fountain and found the lion himself in front of his stone counterpart.

“Aslan, it is you.”

Lucy launched herself at him, burying her face in his fur.

“Hello, dear one.” It came out in a deep rumbling laugh.

Caspian knelt before Aslan, keeping his eyes on the ground.

“Rise, King Caspian.”

“Aslan, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to talk to you about your future, dear one.”

Caspian felt unease coil in his stomach.

“My future here or…?”

Lucy took a step back to stand next to Caspian taking his hand in hers.

“That is your decision to make, Lucy. Your heart longed for Narnia when you returned home. You had not been ready to leave it behind. Is that still true?”

She looked to her betrothed and considered her words carefully.

“I could leave Narnia. But I cannot leave my heart. I cannot leave Caspian. Not again.”

Aslan turned his massive head towards the king – looking at him expectantly.

“Caspian?”

The king lifted Lucy’s hand to kiss her knuckles, looking to her as he answered.

“Narnia was the only home I ever knew. But Lucy is the only home I will ever need. I would leave Narnia if she wished me to. If you would allow it,” he added as he finally turned to face Aslan.

“Caspian?” Lucy gasped at him.

Aslan seemed to nod so Caspian continued, looking back to his love.

“Lucy, in the past year we’ve changed Narnia. It is ruled by its people. As it should be. They don’t need a king. But I need you.”

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, but there was no mistaking her smile.

“Are you sure?”

“I am,” he assured her.

Lucy kissed him for a moment, before turning to Aslan.

“Aslan, is it possible?”

He huffed a laugh and nodded with a shake of his mane.

“Yes, dear one. It is possible. All is as it should be with Narnia thanks to you. But you both must be sure.”

They shared a look before turning back to Aslan.

“We’re sure,” they said in unison.

“But we must not abandon Narnia this time,” Lucy insisted. “I want to say goodbye properly.”

“Of course. You two can stay as long as you like, you have earned that. When you are ready return to this fountain and take the path behind it.”

They both peeked around as the hedge directly behind Aslan’s statue opened up. If she listened closely Lucy could hear the music of the reception.

“You’ll be returned to when you left,” Aslan answered her unspoken question.

Lucy hugged him again and Caspian joined in this time.

“Thank you, Aslan.”

“Thank you, for all you have done for Narnia. It is better for knowing you, dear heart.”

Lucy and Caspian were married after six months on the day before they stepped down and allowed the high council full rule over Narnia. Surprisingly, no one begrudged them their decision. Narnia was happy and they saw that they could rule themselves and be their own heroes.

Two years to the day after Lucy arrived, they said their final goodbyes to the land that had given them so many gifts, the dearest of which was each other.

Hand in hand they entered the maze and followed the turns to the center. With one last look at the great stone lion, they walked through the hedge behind him, coming out into a dark night. Lucy was once again in her lavender bridesmaid dress. Luckily she had had the foresight to have a suit made for Caspian so he would blend in.

“Shall we?” she asked, excited to see her family after so long. Well so long for her. Just moments for them.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t just wait here until after the wedding? How are we going to explain me just turning up?” Caspian asked, daunted by the new world around him.

It was louder than Narnia, and undeniably strange. Lucy cupped his cheek, and kissed him.

“The evening is nearly over. The others will want to see you. You were at the other party and we ran into each other in the garden. You’re an old friend from our time with the professor. And I insisted that you come say hello and congratulate Susan in person.”

“You’ve thought about this,” he teased, considering the plan in his head.

“Of course. It was the first thing I thought when you threatened me with my own dagger,” she reminded him with a mocking look.

“Oh really?” Caspian chuckled, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“Yes. Right after ‘he’s here. Maybe I get to be loved after all’.”

“You are so loved, my valiant Lucy. And I shall love you forever. In every world.”

She smiled up at him, blissfully happy.

“And I you, Caspian.”

They shared one more kiss before walking hand in hand back to reception. Everything was as it should be.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this. I've got loads of Ben Barnes feels lately and this is how I'm dealing with it lol. Thanks for reading!

[midearthwritings]

A Study On Ofelia Took (OC)

Yesterday was June 21st, the summer solstice, but also Ofelia's birthday. So I thought I would share with you some part of the process of creating her.

→Who is Ofelia, and who was she meant to be?

We all know Ofelia as this sweet little hobbit who tends to cry a lot but who is still very brave and, way too often, a bit reckless. And although most of her personality remains what it originally was, some things changed along the way...

At first, I had made Ofelia to be more of a fighter. She was supposed to often get into fights and throw hands at those who would try to provoke her. But I thought better of it. I didn’t really want her to be a violent person. That is why I changed that into Ofelia being reckless and having very little sense of danger. I felt that it would keep this side of her that is tough while not having her being violent.

Another thing about our current Ofelia is that she is in a courtship with Kíli. But that was not the original plan. When I first began to design Ofelia, she was meant to be with… with Dwalin. Yup.

Since I love writing Dwalin x Hobbit!Reader fanfics, I thought that it would be amazing to have a Hobbit OC for him. But the more I worked on her personality, the more I felt like it would be complicated to have her paired with Dwalin. I thought that her sensitive personality and Dwalin’s really tough one would make their relationship hard. I realized that he might make her cry more often than not by accident, ending up hurting both of them.

After a bit of thinking and re reading what I had, I figured she would be a good match for Kíli. And I'm very happy with my final choice.

But who knows...Maybe one day I’ll make an OC for Dwalin…

→The inspiration behind Ofelia...

I would say that I had two major inspiration to make her character.

First, just like Naya (my other OC), Ofelia was partly based on myself. I made her with the traits of my personality that I have trouble accepting, like the fact that I am so sensitive and cry so often or how reckless I can be sometimes.

And all those things that I kind of dislike about myself are what make her such a beautiful character to my eyes. Creating Ofelia was like taking the parts of myself that I see as ugly and making art with it.

The other inspiration behind my OC was a fictional character that has the same name. Maybe some of you have watched the movie Pan's Labyrinth by Guillermo del Toro, or maybe you haven't.

In this movie, we follow this young girl named Ofelia, who is trying to get back to her father (the King of a fantasy realm) by passing tests and being guided by a Faun.

Here are some pictures of Ofelia from the movie.

( Picture 1 / Picture 2 : Ivana Baquero as Ofelia in Pan's Labyrinth, 2006)

Apart from some physical traits like the length of her hair, or the shape of her nose, and obviously her name, some part of Ofelia's personality were also inspired by this character.

Ofelia, like the young girl from the movie, loves books, mostly tales and legends. They both have a big imagination and are both very brave and would do anything to protect the most vulnerable ones.

Although, they are very different from one another since my character mostly resemble me. While the character from the movie is rather shy, calm and reserved, my Ofelia is outgoing, bold and doesn't hesitate to jump into dangerous situations.

But I like to think that this is the way my OC looked as a child (I usually don't do face claims though). At least...approximately.

→Having the character, but not the story.

When I create an OC, I start by the character themselves, then their story. And if Naya's backstory came to my mind quite easily, I had some trouble with Ofelia's.

I think the hardest part was having her being linked to the quest. So after a lot of thinking (and a few "That's it, I'm giving up"), I simply decided to make her part of Bilbo's family.

After figuring this part out, most of it came naturally to me. I still had a bit of trouble for example with the details of how she came to be in a courtship with Kíli. But I was rapidly able to build her story.

To this day, I'm still trying to figure out some details, mostly about her childhood. And I think that it's a good lesson in the sense that having an OC is constant work.

What helps me the most with it are the asks that I sometimes get in my ask box about my OCs. Little questions like that help creating a more detailed background to the character which is super duper cool.

→The details.

What I like the most about creating an OC is all the little details that you add to make them a unique being, and the stories behind them. Here are a few examples :

I mentioned in her Character Sheet that Ofelia has a very small, and barely visible, scar above her lips. This is one of the very first details I created about her, remainder of her original "violent" personality. Ofelia got this scar in a fight. And I didn't feel the need to take that out of her story. I mean, didn't we all get into at least one fight in our lives? (Probably not, but you get my point)

Another thing is the tattoo on her ankle. This is pure me. Of course, if I had made Ofelia to be a dwarf, she would have been covered in tattoos. But no, she's a Hobbit. So I gave her one tattoo. And at first, I didn't even know what it was. I just wanted her to have a tattoo. But the more I wrote about her and worked on her personality, I finally found something that made sense. Since she was born during midsummer, Ofelia has a small sun tattoo.

It took me so many tries before finally getting to draw a portrait of Ofelia that I liked. But in the end, I managed to do it. I gave her a headband. And after drawing her many times, I simply kept adding the headband. This is how I came to write her always wearing some kind of "scarf" her hair. And of course, yellow is her favorite color to wear.

→Ending Note.

If you have read this until the end, thank you. I loved making this post.

I think that creating an OC is a very complicated and delicate process that varies from one person to the other. And in the end, it feels like you've just met a new friend. So I really enjoyed sharing those little things with you.

And a very happy birthday to you, Ofelia.

All Time Tags : @imnotevenhere9 @shethereadinghobbit @elvish-sky @katbby16 @dark-angel-is-back @shalinizhara @elarinya-nailo @thewhiteladyofrohan

People I think could be interested : @grunid @messiambrandybuck @laurfilijames @guardianofrivendell @cassiabaggins @claraofthepen

Get added to the Taglist!

[thankskenpenders]

screenrant /sonic-continuity-archie-idw-comics-games-sega/amp/ I would love to hear your thoughts on this write up over on Screen Rant about the comics.

(link to the article)

Boy this one made me frustrated, as this wall of text no doubt implies

So while I agree with some points this article makes about the Archieverse having a lot of elements to like, I also think it’s built on a wildly flawed premise. For one thing, they’re comparing a decades-long series that was able to build up its universe over the course of over 500 issues to a new series that just crossed the 30 issue mark. And in the article itself they argue that Archie’s shift to a more serialized story started around 40 issues in with Mecha Madness (which is wrong, but hey), but they... don’t make the connection there? The Archie comics get a pass in this article for taking 3-4 years to start giving a shit about continuity, while all the great narrative work that the IDW comics have done in their first two and a half years is glossed over

A lot of the article also feels like it’s just saying “the Archie comics had a lot of lore, which made them better.” This is an extremely common thing people will fall for when it comes to nerd media, confusing a large amount of lore and a big wiki and a world history that stretches back thousands of years for a good story. Having just finished reading all the Archie issues released before Ian’s run last year, most of those plot threads went nowhere with their original writers and were thematically shallow. You cannot tell me in good faith that the Ancient Walkers or the Order of Ixis or all those different super transformations or whatever really added all that much to the narrative. They just didn’t. Having all that lore is meaningless if it doesn’t prop up a strong central narrative, which the Archie comics struggled with for years

They touch on stuff like Bunnie’s arc as a half-Robian, and y’all know Bunnie is my fave. But it took them years and years to actually do anything with her. There is exactly one story in the first 50 issues of the comics that actually touches on her internal struggle regarding her robot parts. And I think that little backup story’s fantastic! It’s stories like that that make me love the Archieverse. But if the series had ended with Endgame like it was supposed to then that would’ve been it for her character arc. There were so many stories like this in the first 13 years of Archie comics, where more complex ideas would be teased and then the story would be dropped because there were too many characters, too many conflicting storylines, and too many cooks in the kitchen

And while Ian was eventually able to pick up all those disparate pieces from his predecessors and start telling really cool stories with them (as I have highly praised in my coverage of his first year at Archie), that complex continuity also made the Archie comics very hard for new readers to get into. It’s a double edged sword. It’s okay to like that lore-dense approach to storytelling (I mean, I do), but it’s not objectively better than the alternative

This writer also conveniently avoids saying much at all about the nearly 30 years of video game lore that the IDW comics are drawing from. All that doesn’t count for some reason. They claim that the canon of the IDW comics only starts with Eggman’s takeover in Forces. And they repeatedly say Sally is a faun? What??? And they keep referring to the Archieverse as the “official canon,” which... what do they mean by that?? This article is a mess

[clexaweekofficial]

Does anyone has prompts for the 'Magic' theme?

Here’s some from me:

Witch-in-training Clarke keeps accidentally teleporting into Lexa’s room, her supposed rival (yet a girl who clearly keeps playing on her mind enough that Clarke keeps ending up in her bedroom....)

Evil sorceress Nia made a deal with Abby when she was pregnant that would result in cursing Clarke to be locked in a tower until her true love comes to free her- with Nia planning on her son Roan being the one to do it, therefore cementing Nia’s hold over the kingdom when he becomes king. But Nia didn’t count on stubborn Clarke trying to save herself and escape so many times, so she puts her ward Lexa in charge of guarding her. Which maybe it would have worked, if Lexa wasn’t such a useless lesbian.

Clarke accidentally gives Lexa a love potion and then is confused when she realizes Lexa isn’t acting any differently.

Clarke finds a magic lamp, rubs it, and out comes Lexa the genie. She thinks it’s a prank and makes increasingly ridiculous wishes to catch her out on it.

Human Clarke finds a dragon egg and tries to hatch it. Magic Lexa is both annoyed and endeared by this.

Vampire Lexa might be a useless lesbian, but she’s weak for the pretty blonde girl who has just moved to this city and knows next to nothing about magic folk. Clarke has asked Lexa out on a date, so of course Lexa accepts...without thinking about the ramifications of Clarke taking her to an Italian restaurant filled to the brim with garlic bread, Lexa’s dire vampire weakness.

Magical forbidden love au where they’re on opposing sides of a magical war

HP AU. Any.

Here’s a longer idea for a bigger story: Lexa and her cousins Luna, Lincoln, Anya, and Ontari both move into their strange great-aunt Becca’s house for the summer. It’s there that Lexa accidentally stumbles upon a wardrobe that leads into the magical world of Polis/Sanctum/whatever you want to call it. She tumbles right into a young woman her own age named Clarke, a fallen star with magical powers, who explains to her the chaos that has fallen upon the world since it was taken over by the evil ice queen Nia. Lexa ends up tumbling into a wild adventure with Clarke that her cousins get dragged into, and meets characters such as the faun Gustus, the shapeshifter Raven, the warrior Octavia, and more. Ontari ends up getting swayed over to Nia’s side. Yes this was loosely inspired by Chronicals of Narnia. Yes I want to hear a Lexa in the closet joke.

If someone has any prompts, feel free to send my way and I’ll share them.

[effiethebookworm]

I posted 320 times in 2021

59 posts created (18%)

261 posts reblogged (82%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 4.4 posts.

I added 131 tags in 2021

#ask - 28 posts

#the silver eye - 17 posts

#ask game - 16 posts

#nerdarians - 14 posts

#silverstars21 - 14 posts

#yes - 10 posts

#tag game - 9 posts

#future reference - 8 posts

#my ocs - 8 posts

#music - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#you're stuck in the early 2010s. you only listen to obama-era jams like gray flowers by the gray havens and hey juliet by tufts beelzebubs.

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

TSE Appreciation Week Day Six

Hi. It is Day Six. No exclamation marks today, for the week is over and it is a sad occasion. I hope you like it. Also, I noticed that I accidently titled yesterday’s post “Day Four” when it’s supposed to be “Day Five.” Oops. 

Enjoy.

Laura Hollingsworth sat down at her computer, fingertips poised over the keyboard. She heard a whine from under her chair, and looked down to see a fluffy dog staring back at her.

“No distractions, Gwladys. Now that the Hiatus Secundus is finally over, I'm writing the script for Chapter 21.”

Gwladys whined again, and Laura gave her a treat.

“Now go sleep or kill a lizard or something. I'm busy.” She gave the dog a little scratch behind the ears, and firmly patted her on the rump.

“Shoo.”

Gwladys left the room. Laura turned back to her keyboard. She yawned, and looked at the clock.

“My, it's a late to be writing, but I want this finished today. I guess I'll just sleep in a bit tomorrow.” she said to no one in particular. She took a drink of water, and began to write.

CHAPTER 21

CLIMB

APEN: *Looks up at Ayran, shocked * Ayran Greenway? Fabled Nedarian architect and designer of Greenway?

AYRAN: *Carswell Thorne grin * The very one.

BERLYNE: *is not impressed * What are you doing here, Mister Greenway, and where is “here” anyway?

AYRAN: We are in an old city that I made centuries ago. It's quite embarrassing, really. Looking at the stuff I made ages ago.. *cringes * Ugh.

JOE, CHARA, AND MARCUS: *run into the room *

JOE: *sees Berlyne and Apen on the floor and rushes over to check on them*

CHARA: Berlyne! Apen! Where have you been all night? We were so worried about you.

MELLY: *runs over and licks Apen's face *

APEN: Melly! You're all right! Thank heaven.

BERLYNE: We went wandering and got lost. Then, *glares at Ayran * this man attacked Apen, so I stabbed him. *is pleased *

CHARA: *is disturbed * BERLYNE, what have I told you about stabbing people?

BERLYNE: *is unremorseful *

JOE: *walks up to Ayran * I don't appreciate you attackin' my so- er- daughter's boyfr- er-- the person to which I am a father figure.

AYRAN: Oh, yeah, buddy? What'cha gon' do 'bout that?

JOE: Nothing, because I am a pacifist. But I will glare at you. *glares at Ayran *

MARCUS: Oh no! Not the glare!

APEN AND CHARA: The glare!!!

BERLYNE: What. The what. Is going on.

AYRAN AND JOE: *have a staring contest *

*music begins to play. Cut to Marcus playing the Jaws theme on the violin he was playing last chapter *

AYRAN: *blinks *  No!!! I have been vanquished!

JOE: Heck yeah ya have! *begins to dance the Cotton Eyed Joe *

MARCUS: *begins to play the Cotton Eyed Joe *

BERLYNE: Daddy? Um- are you alright? CHARA: It's his victory dance, Berlyne. You've lived with him for nineteen years, you know this.

MARCUS: Yeah, Berlyne, even I know that! * continues to play Cotton Eyed Joe, but joins in the dancing.

AYRAN: *is sulking in corner *

BERLYNE: Marcus. You can't play the violin and talk, much less dance. This is impossible, what is going on?

MARCUS: *kindly, like speaking to a very stupid small child* *still playing and dancing* Berlyne, Berlyne, Berlyne. You lowly little mortal. You have hardly seen my powers at work.

BERLYNE: W- Excuse me? MARCUS: You all thought that I was Marcus, a little hipster librarian. No. That form is past me now. I will now show you who I really am.

*a bright light flashes, and a shirtless faun with a red scarf stands in Marcus' place *

MARCUS: That's right. I am Mr. Tumnus!

BERLYNE: I am so confused.  *turns to Apen* Apen, what is going on?

APEN: *is with Chara, over next to Mr. Tumnus. He is making :baby_apen: face.*

APEN AND CHARA: *in unison *  MR TUMNUS?!?! MARCUS: Yes, my children. I am.

BERLYNE: *:shooketh * I AM SO DARN CONFUSED.

IDONY: *enters * What's going on?

MARCUS: Ah, my love. I have shown my true form. Maybe it is time for yours.

BERLYNE: what

IDONY: *sailor moon transformation sequence *  *becomes casserole lady from Velv's trial *  Yes, and I am Casserole Lady!

AYRAN: *horrified * NO! NOT CASSEROLE LADY! *falls over *

BERLYNE *checks pulse * Okay, he's dead. Guys, this is really weird.

EVERYONE – BERLYNE: No it's not!

BERLYNE: AH! I got it! This is a dream, right?

EVERYONE- BERLYNE: NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

*the scene goes black *

END.

“Ah!” Laura awoke with a start. She squinted at her surroundings. She was in front of her computer.

“Wow, that was a crazy dream. I must have fallen asleep while writing.” She moved the computer mouse a bit, waking up the screen.

CHAPTER 21

CLIMB

APEN: *Looks up at Ayran, shocked * Ayran Greenway? Fabled Nedarian architect and designer of Greenway?

AYRAN: *Carswell Thorne grin * The very one.

BERLYNE: *is not impressed * What are you doing here, Mister Greenway, and where is “here” anyway?

AYRAN: We are in an old cit

“Huh, I fell asleep mid-sentence. I must have been exhausted.” She turned off her computer and went to bed.

THE END

12 notes • Posted 2021-07-31 18:36:17 GMT

#4

It won't let me tag, but #six fanarts #my art #effie makes a thing #merida #brave #disney

15 notes • Posted 2021-09-09 22:26:29 GMT

#3

TSE Appreciation Week Day One!

Hurrah, my first TSE Appreciation Week is here!! I have been preparing since late May, and I am almost done with all my fanfictions! Here is the first one. It is called Heirloom, like the theme for today. It uses both the Heirloom prompt and family dynamic prompt, even though the Shephards aren’t my favorite family. It was my first ever attempt at choose-your-own-adventure, and it turned out...decent, I think.

Heirloom

In this Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Fanfiction, you are a young Prince Joshua of Cedulan. That's all you really need to know for now, so enjoy!

1.

“Come on, Granpappy!” your oldest daughter Aphera yells from on top of the hill that you and your father are climbing. “Don't you want to sled with me?” Your father, King Amnon, chuckles.

“I'm coming, Aphera. Remember, patience-” she interrupts him. “Is a virtue. I know, Granpappy.” Amnon leans heavily on his cane as he walks.

“Would you like to stop for a moment, Father?” you ask.

“No, no. Aphera needs me.” Although he's only fifty-three years old, many years of ruling the kingdom of Cedulan have taken their toll. His beard is almost entirely gray, and his face is covered in wrinkles. He is tired more and more, although his eyes always twinkle when he plays with his granddaughters. Adara pulls on your gloved hand.

“Up,” she says in her quiet but insistent voice. You scoop her up and put her on your shoulders.

“Walking in the snow is hard, isn't it?” You ask. You crane your neck to see her nod her head vigorously. You are all at the top of the hill now. Aphera is constructing a snowman. Adara pulls on your ear, her signal for down. You reach up and grab her tiny hands.

“Ready?” you say. She squeals in response. You yank her forward, off your shoulders and swing her onto the ground. Aphera, watching, exclaims,

“I want a turn, Daddy!” Amnon interrupts.

“I thought you wanted to sled!”

“Weeeeeelllll, I guess we can sled now and do horsie rides later.”

“What's sledding?” Adara says.

“Here, Dara, I'll show you!” Aphera sits down on the sled. “Daddy?” You walk over and give her a push. She flies down the hill, whooping and calling. Adara's eyes grow wide with jealousy.

“I want to, Daddy!” she whispers. “Wait until Aphera comes back. You can sled with me then.” Aphera trudges up the hill, panting, sled in tow. Her woolly dress, coat, stockings, boots, hair, and even eyelashes are caked with snow.

“I almost hit a tree, but I didn't!” she proudly announces. “Adara, you wanna go with me?” Before Adara can respond, you tell her,

“Since this is her first year, I think she should only go with adults.” Aphera frowns. Amnon walks over and says,

“You can go with me next, after them.” You grab Adara's hand and walk with her to the sled that Aphera dropped into the snow. You plop down in the back, plop your boots firmly into the snow, and tell her,

“Sit here, in the front.” She does, and you hand her the reins of the sled. “Hold on tight to these.” You release your boots, and push off. As you gain speed, you see a wide grin spread on Adara's face. You go over a small bump, and are airborne for a moment. Adara laughs. You are very surprised. Adara has only laughed three times before in her life. As you slow to a stop at the bottom of the hill, she rolls off. She giggles while you grab the sled, sit her on it, and start pulling it up the hill. Her giggles eventually stop, and as you reach the top of the hill, you hear a scream from Aphera.

“Granpappy!” You sprint up the hill with the sled behind you. Adara, quickly realizing that she is extra weight to pull, rolls off the sled and starts running beside you. She is surprisingly fast for a three-year-old, almost keeping up with you. As soon as you reach the top of the hill, you see what made Aphera scream. Amnon is lying on the ground, his face contorted into a grimace. Aphera is standing over him, hysterically sobbing.

“Granpappy, Granpappy, wake up!” You shake him.

“Father. Father, speak to me.” He moans.

If you tell the girls to run for help, and stay with your father, go to 2.

If you try to scoop him up and take him to the palace yourself, go to 3.

2.

“Adara, Aphera, run home as fast as you can and tell the doctor to come here now.”

“But-” Aphera says, but Adara clasps her hand and starts running towards the palace. You put your hand directly in front of his mouth and nose. His breathing is fast and shallow. You look him over. No blood, no signs of an injury. You feel his forehead. Normal temperature. Please, you pray, let the doctor come quickly. At this, you hear the sound of a galloping horse.

“Help!” you yell. “The king is ill!” The horse and rider come up the hill.

“Prince Joshua, are you al-” the rider sees Amnon on the ground. “My King!” You are annoyed.

“Yes, and he's ill. I need to get him to the palace as soon as possible.” The man considers this. “Put him on my horse. I can sit behind and make sure he doesn't fall.”

“Thank you.” You manage to get Amnon onto the horse, and he is quickly taken to the palace. You grab the sled (Adara would be devastated if it was stolen) and run to the palace.

If you check on your daughters and then your father, go to 4.

If you check on your father first, go to 5.

3.

You start to panic. What am I going to do? An idea strikes you. You roll your father onto his back. He groans softly.

“Hang in there, Dad.” you whisper. You grab him under his shoulders and knees and hoist him up. You stagger backwards for a few steps, startled by his weight. Muscle is heavier than fat, you remind yourself, and he was quite fit.  You start walking down the hill, slowly. You hear Aphera crying behind you, but you can't turn around. Suddenly, you slip on the now-icy snow. Thankfully, Amnon lands on top of you instead of the ice. You get an idea.

“Adara, bring the sled to me, please.” She arrives momentarily with the sled in tow. You roll your father onto it, grab the reins, and start pulling him.

“Tell me if he falls off,” you direct Adara. She grunts in response. As you jog over the snowy hills, the palace slowly gets closer. You are out of breath and sweaty now, and you almost collapse when you reach the gates. A guard with an elegant fur cloak greats you.

“Prince Joshua, how are you?”

“King Amnon, f-fell and needs-needs a doctor.” you manage to pant out. The guard notices your father on the sled, and shouts something. Suddenly, ropes fall from the turrets above you, and two more cloaked guards slide down. One of them pulls a tiny key from inside her jerkin, and uses it to open a hidden door next to the drawbridge. The other guard opens his arms and faces up. You are confused, until a large object drops from the top of the building and the guard caught it. He unfolds it, and you see that it is a stretcher. The guards put him on it, and carry him through the secret door and into the darkness of the palace. You are in shock, both from your father's collapse and the complete preparedness of the guards. You knew that all of them were medically trained, in case of an accident, but you had no idea that they were this good. You quickly remember that you left Aphera and Adara behind. You turn around and see them a few feet behind you.

“Girls, why don't you go to the nursery. I'm sure Mother is expecting you.” They nod, still sniffling, and the guard escorts them inside. You stand there still, almost unable to move.

If you check on your daughters and then your father, go to 4.

If you check on your father first, go to 5.

4.

As you open the door to the East Wing of the palace, the familiar smell of the Christmas Feast hits you like a mace. The memories of past feasts with your parents and siblings, Isis, the girls. This will be April's first, you think. And possibly Father's last. You manage to get to the royal suite, and into the nursery. As you open the doors, Aphera and Adara rush to your side. Good, they managed to get back.

“Daddy, is Granpappy alright?” Aphera asks. You manage to smile and say,

“I'm sure he will be.” Isis stands up out of the rocking chair, holding April. She hands April to Aphera.

“Girls, why don't you take April for a walk?” Aphera's face brightens a bit.

“Maybe we can teach her how to walk.” You can feel a headache coming on.

“She's only two months old, Aphera. There's-” Isis elbows you.

“Well, you can try. But don't drop her.” They walk out of the room, and you collapse into Isis' arms. She leads you to sit down, and you fall onto the bed. Your throat hurts because the tears won't come. Isis sits next to you.

“Aphera told me what happened. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” you whisper. “I am a grown man, the crown prince of Cedulan. Feelings are below me.” Isis frowned.

“You were happy when April was born, right?” You nod. “And angry when King Bhatair called you a royal pinnacle of idiocy?” You groan. “Well, those are feelings too. And if you can enjoy happiness and indulge anger, why do you refuse to cry?”

“Weakness,” you hiss, barely making noise. Your throat is throbbing now. “I cannot show weakness to anyone, ever. Not when I'm in battle, not at home, not even alone with you. Weakness is the mark of a coward.” Isis stands.

“The true coward is the one who is afraid of his own feelings. I'll leave you alone.”

Go to 5.

5.

You walk through the halls of the vast royal suite towards your father's room. The last time you had been there was four years ago when your mother died. She had been bloodily assassinated by a man with an ax. He still hadn't been caught, and you sometimes had nightmares about him. As you reach the door to the atrium for your father's room, you notice a few nurses ducking in and out of the door, murmuring to each other. You open the door to the atrium and the doctor greets you.

“Good afternoon, Prince Joshua.” Skipping the pleasantries, you say,

“How is my father?” The doctor's face falls.

“I am afraid that he has suffered a heart attack. He will die very soon, probably this week.” Oddly, you don't feel sad. Just.... numb. Like you are completely detached from the situation. Like nothing exists anymore.

“Oh,” you hear, and realize that it was you. “May I see him?”

“Yes.” The doctor opens the door and ushers you in. The room is rich, filled with deep purples and blues, satin and mahogany. A very old man is lying on the bed. You realize that it is your father. He turns to you.

“Hello, Joshua.”

“Hello, Father.”

“I'm sorry I spoiled your outing with the girls.”

“No, Father. Don't apologize. It isn't your fault.” He smiles slightly.

“I want to give you and the girls and Isis some presents, for Christmas.”

“But Christmas is in two days. Why not then.” He smiles again.

“Please bring them, as soon as you can.”

“Yes, sir.”

Go to 6.

6.

“Granpappy, are you okay?” Aphera asks as soon as she sees Amnon. He deftly changes the subject.

“How would you girls like your Christmas presents a few days early?” He asks. Aphera claps her hands. “Yay! Presents!”

Two servants come out of the corner, each holding a small stack of presents. Amnon takes a large one off of the top, and hands it to Aphera. She quickly tears off the paper, and opens the box. Inside are a small assortment of items. On top are a pair of boots, made of supple black leather with golden buckles. They are a bit too large, but you can easily tell that she loves them. She tries them on happily.

“They're beautiful, Granpappy!” “They're a bit large, but you'll grow.” His eyes glow at seeing her so excited. She picks up the next item, a silver locket. She opens it, and inside is a tiny, yet amazingly lifelike painting of her and Amnon laughing together. She gasps.

“The locket belonged to your grandmother's mother, and I had the painting made.”

“It looks just like me and you!” Aphera says with wonder. She puts it on carefully.

“I'll wear it every day.” She picks up the next, and smallest item. It is a tiny key that you have never seen before. “What is this?” she asks. You are wondering the same thing.

“There is an old Cedulanian custom that before a king dies, he passes on this key to the oldest child of his oldest child, unless that child is over the age of fifteen, in which case it should be passed to the next youngest sibling. Joshua,” he says, now addressing you. “I am sorry that I couldn't pass the key to you. I truly wished to, when you were a boy, but the tradition must be followed.” He turns back to Aphera. “This key unlocks one door in the palace. When you find it, use what you find there well. It will help you, if you know what to do.” He winks at her, and she giggles. You notice what Aphera didn't, that Amnon acknowledged that he is dying.

“Thank you, Granpappy. I love you!” She climbs onto his bed, and wraps her little arms around him.

“I love you too, Aphera.”

He gives her a pat on the head, and announces,

“It's your turn, Adara.” Adara steps forward, and receives a smaller box. She carefully unwraps it, and folds the wrapping paper into a neat square. She opens the box, and stares at the contents inside. She pulls out a thin book, and murmurs,

“What is this?”

“This is a journal, cursed by your great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother Melete Dolan to never run out of pages. It has been used by many before you. When you learn to read, read it and let the wisdom of your forefathers and foremothers guide you. Someday, you will also write in it, and pass it on to your children. I gave it to your aunt when she was a girl, but she died as a child.” His eyes cloud over, remembering a painful past. Adara opens to the middle, and a hair clip falls out. It is studded in tiny amethysts and onyx. She holds it up to the candlelight, and the room is instantly filled with tiny rainbows and shimmering light.

“That,” Amnon says, “has belonged to every middle daughter since Alla Jamiese, Melete Dolan's fourth daughter. It belonged to my mother,” he takes a deep breath, “Antigone Shephard.” Everyone in the room except April gasps. It is taboo, though not forbidden, to utter the name of Antigone Shephard. You are shocked. Your parents named you Joshua only because they wanted to break the a-name tradition to distance themselves from Antigone. You had heard rumors that they had wanted to name you Adam, but were too stubborn. Your father continued.

“Adara, that hairpiece holds much history of powerful women. There is a legend that the clip itself holds characteristics of its previous owner. I beg of you, always be careful. Do not allow Antigone's mark to hold power over you. You are young now, and you will forget my words.” He turns to you.

“Joshua, Isis, remind her when she is older.” Adara interrupts.

“Granpappy, if it is so dangerous, why are you giving it to me?” You are shocked. Adara has never uttered a sentence this long before.

“My dear, the legend also tells of the reversal of power. If it is true, you will have the power that Antigone used for evil. You can, and must, use it for good.” Aphera nods, and you pick her up and put her on the bed. Amnon kisses her gently on the forehead, and she smiles. She jumps down on her own, and Amnon beckons for Isis, still holding April, to step forward.

“April. Little April, you will not remember me. So I leave to you my Collection.” Your eyes widen. Every member of a Levantine royal family, Cedulanian, Bellingwrathe, Amethystie, Desdemonian, and so on, has a Collection. Every collection has an object from each year of the person's life, usually on a theme. It was a tradition that the Collection was buried with you, so this was highly unusual. Amnon pulls another box off of the pile and hands it to you. You start to open it, but the king stops you, saying,

“No, Joshua. Let her open it on her birthday.”

“Which one?” you ask.

“The second one after she learns how to read. I left her a note in there. I wish for her to read it herself.”

“Yes sir.” You bow.

“Isis, this is for you,” he says, picking up a tiny box, the last from the pile.

“Thank you, Amnon.” she says as she opens it. She gasps. “Oh Joshua, look!” Inside is a ring, a necklace, and a bracelet. They are all made of pure gleipnir, the most valuable substance on all of Elladess. Amnon chuckles.

“Yes, that is the Queen's Jewelry.” Isis frowns.

“But I'm not-” “You will be soon.” Amnon smiles sadly. Isis side-hugs him. You notice her eyes are watery. Come to think of it, so are yours. No emotion. No sadness.

“Joshua, it is now your turn.” The king shifts in bed, and pulls something off of his belt. Your heart starts to race. You've been waiting for this moment all of your life.

“Prince Joshua of Cedulan,” he says, “I, King Amnon II of Cedulan, now present to you the Silver Eye, cursed by your ancestor Melete Dolan. Use it well, wisely, and mercifully. Never bring it into Nedarian buildings, or use it for evil. Do you promise that you will uphold these rules?”

“I do.”

“Do you promise to hand it down to the next heir to the throne when you die?”

“I do.” Your father pulls out a long, purple and silver telescope from a small leather pouch, and bids you,

“Kneel.” You do, and you hold your arms, bent at the elbows, above your head. He places the telescope gently into your hands. The metal is cool, and the telescope is the perfect weight. Lighter than a broadsword, but heavier than a sabre.

“Rise, Prince Joshua, rightful owner of the Silver Eye. You have taken the oath, and it is now yours.” You slowly rise, and your father sits up and ties the case around your waist. Then he falls back onto the pillow, tired.

“Thank you, Father.” You say. “You are tired. We will leave now.”

“You are welcome, my son.” Amnon says exhaustedly.

“Goodbye, Granpappy.” Aphera says, and Adara waves.

“Farewell, my girls. I love you very much.” You herd the girls out of the room, and back to your family's suite. You go down to the kitchens and ask for dinner to be brought up to you while Isis helps the girls into their nightgowns and robes. You return and eat, and then put the girls to bed. You and Isis then go to bed too, although you cannot sleep. You lie there for hours, thinking.

“You can't do him any good by not sleeping.” You are startled.

“I thought you were asleep.” You tell Isis.

“Goodnight, Joshua,” she says.

You take her advice, and fall asleep quickly.

Go to 7.

7.

As soon as you wake, an attendant is by your side.

“Sir, I am sorry to inform you that your father passed away in his sleep.”

“What?” Your mind is foggy from sleep and you don't understand.

“Sir, your father died in his sleep. You are the king now.” The servant is down on one knee. “My king.”

Isis murmurs something next to you.

“Isis. Wake up.” you almost say, but decide to let her sleep. You wish that you could have. You will never be able to again. You kiss her on the forehead, and silently slide out of bed.

THE END

17 notes • Posted 2021-07-27 00:12:26 GMT

#2

reblog if you're a nerdarian

i really want to get an idea of how many of us there are

you can also tag people you know are nerdarians

@aceofstars16 @lady-merian @silverstars21

22 notes • Posted 2021-06-25 11:47:25 GMT

#1

ay mutuals just a friendly reminder to READ THE SILVER EYE DO YOU HEAR ME DO IT NOW

62 notes • Posted 2021-09-11 19:36:20 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[ikeromantic]

Horns

Day 24 of Ikemektober!

I chose Shakespeare - I’ve no idea what happens in his route. This is entirely my brain (caffeinated), the prompt, and deciding The Bard had to get his own story. It’s spicy fluff. Approx 1800 words.

Will picked up the costumes for his next production - a new play, inspired by his patron. They were fanciful pieces, with bat wings and goat horns and hooves. There was even a serpent-skin coat in the lot. Perfect for the story of a devilish king and his court of impish jesters. 

The play was equal parts suffering and passion. He hoped Comte would come to see it, or that rumors of it would reach his ears at least. Taunting the old vampire was a dangerous sport, but for William, that only made it a more alluring pursuit.

If he had eternity, or close to it, to make his plays, there was no subject that was taboo. He would push his art to its limit - and his life with it, as his plays were so enmeshed with experience that sometimes he had trouble separating one from the other.

“Will? Will, is that you?” The voice caught him mid-thought. His arms were so full of costumerie that he couldn’t see who was speaking, but he knew anyhow. 

“What fair maid calls mine name so sweetly? Could it be my newest friend?”

She laughed in reply, a bright sound. Unburdened. “I don’t know why you always speak in poetry, Will.” 

He felt her hand touch his arm, the lightest brush of her fingertips like a touch of fire. “Do you need help carrying those in?”

“Fear not, I’ve strength enough to finish - but if you could - the door?” Shakespeare heard her open the door to his home. He walked in and set the costumes on the nearest table. 

The girl followed him in, her eyes darting about in curious fashion - as if she wanted to see everything before he stopped her looking. 

Will smiled. It was strange to see her here, alone. He wondered if the Comte’s imps knew she’d come. He somehow doubted it. “To what do I owe this unforeseen pleasure? I hope tis nothing untoward.”

“Oh, no. I was just going to market to pick up a few things and I saw you getting out of the carriage.” She shrugged, the gesture gentle and indefinable feminine. “I thought maybe you’d like to have a coffee with me - or a tea. We didn’t get to talk much last time I saw you.”

“No, indeed we did not. You are always most welcome here, whither you’ve only passed by or come to visit with intent.” He motioned to his parlor. “Please, go in and sit down. I’ll put on some tea.”

Her bright smile returned. “Good! I was hoping you weren’t busy right now, but when I saw you with all those - clothes?” She glanced at the pile with wide eyes, “I thought maybe you were in the middle of something.”

“I am never to busy to see you, fair one.” He found his own mouth curling upward with genteel pleasure. The sensation made him vaguely uneasy, as if this was dangerous ground he tread. She always did this - setting him on edge with her cheery disposition. He wondered if something dark lay beneath it, something that, with prying, he could uncover. If so, it lay deep.

Will left to put on a pot of tea. When he came back, she was still in the entry hall, picking at the pile of costumes. 

“What are you doing?”

She jumped back, dropping her hands to her sides. “I - sorry! They just looked so interesting. I wanted to see if I could figure out the play from the clothing.” Her hands grasped her skirt, a nervous gesture. 

Shakespeare closed the distance between them in a few quick steps. He knew how unnerving his heterochromatic gaze was, especially on silly little girls. “And? Did you find me out?”

“M-midsummer Night’s Dream?” She guessed, voice full of hope. 

“No.” Will leaned down until his nose almost touched hers. “I am afraid you’ve now been rude on two accounts. Searching through what belongs to another, and assuming a dramatist is bound by their older work.” The irritation he felt around her lent heat to his words, a sharpness despite his soft voice. 

She looked down. “I’m so sorry, Will. I didn’t mean to be rude.” She sounded almost at the edge of tears, far more upset at his reprimand than he expected. 

Will drew a line with his finger at the edge of her jaw and tipped her face up to his. “I shall forgive you this once, if you consent to a single favor. What say you, fair maid?”

“A favor?” She was trembling, her pulse racing. Excitement or fear? Will wasn’t certain.

“Indeed. I’ve need to check each costume you’ve handily sorted through in that pile. I can try on the gents’ clothing but the ladies’ outfits I must use a mannequin for. Today, you will be my mannequin.”

Her face brightened, though he could still feel her galloping heartbeat. “I could - could do that. It sounds exciting!” She bit her bottom lip, suddenly thoughtful. “Would you tell me what the play is about?”

“Perchance, if I am pleased.” Shakespeare stepped away from her, relieved and disappointed by the distance between them.

She immediately headed back to the pile of costumes, picking at them until she’d found a woman’s costume. “What is this one supposed to be?” She held up the oddly cut dress. It was all long, straight lines and harsh edges. Dark colors.

“It is clothing from the future.” He couldn’t help the wicked smile that lit up his thin face. 

“Oh! Neat!” Her innocent enthusiasm missed the point entirely. She took a step toward the parlor, uncertain where she should go to change.

“Yes, you may undress in safety there. I shall refrain from opening the door.”

The tea kettle summoned him with its high pitched whistle. He went to pour the tea, and brought back a tray to set out for them both once the costume-modeling was done.

For himself, he chose the horned outfit. It was Faustian, at a glance. The jacket was black-furred, and the boot cover was made of hoof. The horns themselves were from a goat, but polished to obsidian black. The knobby twists seemed to capture the afternoon sun, reflecting nothing back. 

Shakespeare stepped into this study to change. It felt odd to slide on the heavy jacket. The pants were a little big on him, but solidly made and adjustable with the addition of a belt or suspenders. He slid the headpiece on last, savoring the weight of the horns.

The mirror showed him what a monster he’d become with just the change in wardrobe. He looked wild now, like a faun or a devil, out to hunt virgins in sacred groves. Will shook his hair loose to further the effect. In this, he was the divine hunter. The gentleman demon. It was funny how a costume could often bring out secrets closely held.

He stepped back into the entry hall. The girl was still shuffling around in the parlor. He could hear her. 

“Are you in need of assistance, fair one?”

“I- uh - the buttons are, they’re kind of hard to reach.” 

“Then rescue you, I shall. For what troubles lie under the sun that cannot be bested by two hearts in concert?” He pushed open the door.

Sunlight came through the curtains, painting the room in sunset hue. The girl was standing straight, trying in vain to hold the gown up with one hand, the other reaching for buttons ill-placed. Her cheeks were stained pink, eyes wide.

“Tis no matter, fair maid. I’ve seen many a pretty half in, and half-out of costume. You’ve no need to fear my eye, nor my helping hands.” Will tried to reassure her, though he found her discomfort amusing. He had, in fact, seen many beautiful actresses in all stages of undress, but none quite like her. 

Her face didn’t have the diamond hardness of the determined beauty. She lacked the edge of feminine weaponry, as if ignorant of her body’s charms. It only made him more away of her bare shoulders, the curve of her breast at the side. The naked line of her back as she turned to present him with the impossible buttons.

“You look amazing,” she babbled. “Like a faun! It’s called a faun, right? But . . . more cultured?” She inhaled sharply as Will brushed a finger down her spine. 

“More of a devil, I’m afraid.” Her shiver provoked in him a need to touch her. He resisted it. He was the writer of passions - a witness. Not a participant. The director did not star in his dramas. He buttoned the dress and stepped away from her.

The girl turned to face him, brushing a hand down the front of the dress to smooth it. The dark blue was perfect for her. And the way it clung to her curves - indecent. Will did not think he’d see a clearer map of her body even if she stood nude before him. Best was the slit up the side of the skirt, as if made for a dancer. Her skin tantalized in glimpses, drawing the eye.

“You’re staring. Is it - is it bad?”

“No.” Shakespeare shook himself. “It is a perfect costume for the victim of a demon.” He gave a wicked sharp smile. “Do you feel like a victim, fair one?”

She started to laugh, but stopped at his forbidding expression. “You kind of scare me sometimes, Will.”

“And fear me you should. For I am a wicked creature.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her against his chest. She smelled sweet, like perfume. 

“Will,” she gasped, trying to pull away.

“It is too late for you, fair maid. To my lair you came, and now you shall never leave.” He lowered his head to her neck, letting her feel the slightest prick of his fangs.

“Th-this isn’t funny. Let me go,” she whimpered. 

Shakespeare realized his own heart was beating as wildly as hers, his breath as ragged. He pushed her away. “I am - am only acting my part. The horned devil.”

“Then you’re a pretty good actor.” She stared at him, wary. “I think I should probably go.” 

Will reached up, touching the cold, sharp tip of one of the horns. “Yes, perhaps you should. Send the dress - no, better, keep the dress. It fits not the character of my new script, but I think it sits perfectly upon you.”

She blushed. “Ah, alright. If you’re sure.” Though she took a few steps toward the exit, it seemed she would hesitate, now uncertain if he posed a danger to her. 

Shakespeare stepped closer to her, widening his thin, sharp smile. “Unless, fair maid, you’d like to stay and allow me to remove the garment from your skin . . . with my teeth.” 

“Nope! No thank you!” She practically ran away, comical in her haste. 

Will stood there in the sun-drenched parlor, still smelling her light perfume. It felt so much emptier with her gone. And though he’d hoped for peace in her absence, he felt only turmoil. 

“Perhaps I truly am bedeviled,” he mused. The blackened horns atop his head bobbed in silent agreement.

[nervousandstoned]

THOMAS: ??? 

THOMAS: What the...?

THOMAS: Oh wait! I totally forgot I nngh- AH SHIT- made an ask blog! 

THOMAS: I really like the series! It’s a horror-romance rpg. Kissy Kissy, Bang Bang! IV is supposed to be the most intense game in the franchise.

THOMAS: In the newest game, you play as Yuki Yamamoto, bi-gender dumbass who is in love with this guy named Kenneth Miller- but someone else is in love with Kenneth and that someone kidnaps you and locks you in her cabin out in the middle of the woods with like three- shit- three other characters and you have to escape before she catches you! I don’t know the full story since the game just- ah SHIT- came out, but it’s my favorite game franchise.

THOMAS: It’s the first game they’ve released with an LGBT+ protagonist, and the youtubers and game reviewers who- SHITBALLS- got it pre-release said it was really inclusive and awesome! Sadly... I will not be able to purchase it though :(

THOMAS: And yes, I do happen to play video games a lot. Usually horror games, but I own all the Viva Piñata games, I have Minecraft so I can- (squeak) - COCK- play it with my brother, and Overwatch. I’m a Junkrat main!

THOMAS: Anyways... Hey, I have an ask blog and they’re wondering how your day at the mall has been!

TWEEK: DKJSGKFDSJN OH SHIT THEY CAN SEE US? ABSKJDF AAAGH- HOW DOES THAT WORK MAN?! OH GOD HAVE THEY BEEN WATCHING ME THIS ENTIRE TIME? SHIT SHIT SH-

THOMAS: No... They haven’t, Tweek. I think the blog just started working right before I came in here- shit! And I think it only follows me around.

TWEEK: mMMM... Alright I believe you, Thomas...

MARJORINE: We’ve been having an alright day! I originally came to pick up a new set of drumsticks from the store Kenny works at.

KENNY: Yeah, because you snapped your drumsticks in half by playing your set too hard during our last rehearsal.

MARJORINE: You can’t expect me to not get excited! The song is a headbanger, honey. I just... I can’t help but get super into it! Anyway... Kenny had just gotten off work and Tweek got here half an hour ago to get new dice and such for our superhero game!

THOMAS: Well, you see... It’s actually not too complicated.

THOMAS: Marjorine, Tweek, and Kenny are all in a band. Everyone in town knows who they are... However, I- FUCK- guess I befriended them all in different ways outside o-of the uh... Band thing they have going.

[Thomas has blocked out any background noise while he answers the question]

MARJORINE: What if HE shows up to the game, guys? And if HE shows up, what if HE brings his gross boyfriend? I can tolerate Corey. He’s Thomas’s brother, he’s a good kid! but... Not him. He brings out the worst in him.

THOMAS: Marjorine and I actually met at the library through a Dungeons and Dragons club that Kyle had started-(squeak)- in middle school, before she came out as a girl. She wanted to be a classic human paladin and I was a cool homebrew faun bard. She- shitfuckass- and I went out for a bit until she came out, then we kinda just went our separate ways since I’m gay. Although, we’re- COCK!- definitely still friends.

KENNY: I doubt they’re gonna be there, sugar. Besides- if he is, Kyle, Scott, and I will keep them in check. Plus, if Thomas is coming, we’ll have him as backup too. There’s no way they’ll fuck us over if we have four of us who know how to kick ass.

THOMAS: I met Kenny through Kyle. He uh.... He introduced me to Kenny when I invited him and his family over for Hanukkah back in the fifth grade. He’d brought Kenny and Kenny’s siblings along with his family since Kenny had been spending the holidays with- shit- them that year due to some issues back home. 

THOMAS: ... Kenny’s the whole reason I actually came out to my mom if I’m being completely honest. He’s awesome.

TWEEK: Make that five, Ken. Let’s not aargh- forget you’ve been teaching me self defense... And I know how to box.

KENNY: Oh yeah, you’re right, huh?

TWEEK: Yeah.

TWEEK: Anyway, Thomas, you got anything in mind for your character?

THOMAS: And then there’s Tweek. Man, uh, I actually met Tweek when he and Craig were a thing. After they split up, I dated Craig for a while, and then Tweek. Then Tweek and I separated again and he went back out with Craig up until last year. I... I actually fuck- I actually uhm... I never stopped having major feelings for him, if I’m being totally honest.

THOMAS: But I’d never have a chance with him now that he’s fully dedicated and in a relationship with Marjorine and (squeak squeak) Kenny. Plus, unfortunately, we just stressed each-other out 24-FUCKINGCOCKASS-7...

TWEEK: Thomas?

THOMAS: Huh? Wha-...?

TWEEK: I asked if you had anything in mind for your character, man. Since, ya know, Kyle used to yap all about our superhero game and franchise bullshit all the time to you when we were younger.

THOMAS: Oh- uh, yeah, I kinda do. I have a bunch of doodles and notes in my sketchbook out in my truck.

TWEEK: That’s good. Anyway, uh. We’re gonna meet up at my ngh- parents’ coffee shop tonight for the superhero roleplay. Bring dice and that sketchbook of yours. I think we’re expecting a total of 11 people tonight, counting ourselves.

TWEEK: Are you okay with that? You don’t personally know three of them, but they’re all super cool.

THOMAS: O-oh, yeah that’s just fine! I’ll uh... I’ll see you there at...?”

TWEEK: Aah-! Just be there by 4 o’clock, okay? I’ll- 

[GROUND BEGINS SHAKING VIOLENTLY]

THOMAS: What the fuck-?

KENNY: Guys, what the hell are you standing around for?! Get under something!

[LIGHTS GO FLICKER AND GO OUT]

TWEEK: GRAASALKF I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING!!

THOMAS: I can’t either!!

KENNY: Wait- what the fuck- is that a light?!

THOMAS: L...light?

[... CONNECTION TO ASK BOX LOST ...]

[... RECONNECTING ...]

[... PLEASE WAIT MOMENTARILY ...]

[... ... ...]

[... RECONNECTED TO ASK BOX ...]

[... THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE ...]