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impostoradult · 4 years ago

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I finally figured out why it feels like Supernatural murdered a unicorn (AKA why you need to STOP telling me to watch Black Sails)

I’ll start by saying, everything everyone else has been saying CERTAINLY bothers me:

- the queer-baiting - the bury your queers - the undermining of Dean’s character arc - the wasted opportunity for a certain kind of overall narrative closure - the flat out disrespect to Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles

All of that bothers me tremendously.

But there has been something else rather ineffable about this that has left a horrible taste in my mouth that I couldn’t quite pin down until last night. Bear with me, if you will, because this will require some set-up.

*** This is not the first show to ever disappoint me in a spectacular fashion, nor will it be the last, I suspect. And one of the ways I’ve always coped with that disappointment was to remind myself that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right. (”It” being any number of things from just pure narrative emotional coherence to not burying your queers to not stringing along your queer audience and then yelling fuck you to them on the way out)

But somehow that assurance -- that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right -- has rung particularly hollow in this instance, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why until yesterday.

I kept asking myself, why do I still have this feeling, deep in the pit of my stomach, like something was lost here that can never be recovered?

Because something was lost here that I am doubtful can ever be recovered, and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else talking about this aspect of it at all.

***

A few months ago, TV critic Maureen Ryan did a great interview piece with Mike Schur (of Parks & Rec/The Good Place) discussing the death of long-form TV in the streaming era. They explore how the longer seasons and longer runs of traditional broadcast/cable TV provided an opportunity to tell particular kinds of stories that you simply can’t when seasons are 8-10 episodes and series typically run 2-4 seasons (thanks Netflix).

One key thing we’ve all lost in this new era of highly condensed TV storytelling (and of prestige TV narrative styles)? The traditional (several season’s long) slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance. Not only is there simply no longer the time or space to write such romances, it has also come to be seen as hacky, manipulative, cheap, artistically impoverished, low-brow, a embarrassing vestige of the era before TV became art™.

Everybody is trying to be Fleabag now. No one wants to be Frasier. (”It’s really more like a 10 hour movie” they all like to brag)

Obviously TV still has romances, even ‘drawn out’ romances. But ‘drawn out’ in 2020 is like 2-3 seasons, maybe. More commonly it’s like half a season. Take Schitt’s Creek. The number of episodes between when David and Patrick first meet and when they first kiss? Seven. Seven episodes. Half a season. If you watched it live, it took less than 2 months for them to move from introducing that dynamic to consummating it. And I’m not bagging on Schitt’s Creek; I think the David/Patrick’s story is very lovely and well-written.

But Niles & Daphne (Fraiser) had to wait 7 years and over 150 episodes before they finally got there. Josh & Donna (The West Wing) had to wait 6+ years, and 145 episodes. Mulder & Scully (The X-Files) had to wait 7 seasons and 143 episodes. Booth & Bones had to wait...you see where I am going with this.

And my point is (and I can’t believe I never realized this explicitly until now): there has NEVER been a queer slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance of that type on TV ever. EVER.

I’m going to say that again, because I think it bares repeating:

There has never been a queer, slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance that fits the 100-150 episode paradigm of delayed gratification on TV.

Not ever.

I can’t think of ONE example Not a single, solitary one. And I know queer TV pretty well. Arguably the closest we’ve ever come is Legend of Korra, and that ran 50 episodes, a THIRD of the length of old school will-they-won’t-theys like Booth & Bones or Josh & Donna.

Queer people have had a fair number of canonical romances on TV by now, even fairly long running ones. But we never got a primary/front-and-center romance that you had to root for for 100+ episodes before you got any kind of canonical consummation.

That is a particular kind of TV experience that queer people and queer characters were just 100% shut out of until it was too late. And because of how the TV landscape has changed in the last 10 years, I don’t know that that opportunity will ever come back around in our lifetimes.

***

Dean and Castiel are/were a legacy of an earlier era of TV, an era that still contained the possibility for a will-they-won’t-they of that particular mold. There were other shows that could have also filled this gap at one time - Rizzoli & Isles, OUAT, House MD, etc. But one by one all of them were killed off, their queer romances unrequited, until Supernatural was the only one of its’ generation left standing.

And they should have acknowledged that they were a species about to become extinct.

There are plenty of other valid and compelling reasons Supernatural should have gone full Destiel, don’t get me wrong.

A) It would have been the most emotionally satisfying ending to the series and to those characters (and that would have been reason enough).

B) It would have stopped the manipulative queer-baiting of the (disproportionately queer) fanbase (and that would have been reason enough).

C) It would have been queer representation of middle-aged men, of bi men, of queers who came to their queerness later in life (and any/all of those would have been reason enough).

D) It could have been a glorious subversion of the bury your queers trope, considering how often they’ve died and been resurrected (and that would have been reason enough).

But point E) on this list is the reason this one hurts in a singular way that no one even appears to be acknowledging.

Almost all of the other wrongs and missed opportunities contained in this Supernatural debacle have the possibility of being rectified (at least to a degree) elsewhere. I can and I likely will get more bi male characters from TV as time goes on. I can and likely will get more middle-aged queer characters. I can and likely will get more queer characters coming to their queerness later in life, and starting queer romances later in life. I can and likely will get more queer characters who aren’t killed cheaply and prematurely. I can and likely will get more genre TV shows with sprawling myth arc plots that are resolved in a coherent, satisfying way. I can and likely will get Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles involved in other projects that value their work and their talents.

All of those other things are at the very least POSSIBLE, and many are even likely.

But a queer 100-150 episode slow-burn romance a la Mulder & Scully or Niles & Daphne or Booth & Bones? That is the one baton Supernatural dropped spectacularly that no one else even has the possibility of picking up again for the foreseeable future. (They don’t even write those types of romances for heterosexuals anymore!)

Seriously. It was a TV unicorn. And rather than letting it run wild and free, they stabbed it with a rusty nail.

***

Given the monumental shifts in the TV landscape that have occurred in the last decade, I don’t know that TV will ever go back to the slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance spanning 100-150 episodes. Today it is a miracle if you can get ANY show to last longer than 50 episodes in the first place.

And that is the piece of this that makes it feel (to me) like they murdered a unicorn.

Because queer people have gotten a lot of things from TV, and they will get a lot more as time goes on. But that one? That one could very well be a totally extinct species.

That is the larger missed opportunity here that has left this feeling especially hollow and destructive. That is the thing that makes me balk when people tell me to go watch Black Sails or Pose or whatever other prestige TV show is doing this representation ‘better.’ Because that’s not really the loss I am mourning here. I KNOW there is ‘better’ representation elsewhere.

But the will-they-won’t-they/slow-burn romance is a qualitatively unique thing that queer people literally just never got. Ever. There is no substitute, no alternate, no other show I can turn to with that kind of build-up and pay-off for a queer couple, and there probably won’t be in my lifetime. Not unless the TV industry undergoes another monumental evolution similar to the streaming revolution that shifts the incentives back to telling those types of stories again.

All those shows you want me to displace Supernatural with? None of them can give me the one thing I uniquely wanted (and could have gotten) from Supernatural. THAT ALTERNATE SHOW DOESN’T EXIST. It doesn’t exist. And I have no reason to hope it will ever exist in my lifetime.

So stop telling me to look somewhere else; you don’t understand what made this one a unicorn.

***

Addendum: The only other possible show that could perhaps fill this gap is It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (re: Mac/Dennis). But I’m hesitant to say it exactly meets that criteria, for a number of reasons:

1 - It’s far less serialized relative to Supernatural and (except for a handful of stand-alone episodes) very little of the story is grounded specifically in Dennis/Mac’s romantic dynamic (unlike SPN, where it is absolutely central to much of the narrative)

2 - IASIP is fundamentally satirically in nature/tone which makes it much harder to have genuine romantic pathos (not impossible, but harder)

3 - All the characters on IASIP are fundamentally crummy people who you aren’t exactly supposed to root for. Which doesn’t mean a romance between two of them can’t have its value/charm/worth but it’s not the same as when it is between characters who unequivocally deserve nice things/happy endings

#Supernatural #Destiel #queer representation #sorry this is long

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sweetdreamz31 · 2 years ago

Photo

Misc:

Remove EA lashes: https://kijiko-sims.tumblr.com/post/663751056760635392/ea-eyelashes-remover-mod-updated

Eyelashes: https://kijiko-catfood.com/3d-lashes-uncurled-eyelashes-edition/

Default skin: https://nesurii.tumblr.com/post/689772404113801216/agave-a-default-non-default-skinblend-default

Eyes: https://plumbheadsims.tumblr.com/post/645150787502292992/delicate-eyes-sometimes-when-i-look-into-your

Lip slider: https://miikocc.tumblr.com/post/621735662536851456/pouty-lip-slider-%C2%B3-a-lip-slider-for-the

Brows: https://twisted-cat.tumblr.com/post/646724335584804864/brushed-and-natural-eyebrow-pack

Freckles: https://maxismatchccworld.tumblr.com/post/187393045355/bluemoonsim-aint-it-fun-freckle-set-because

Tattoo: https://taylortheferret.tumblr.com/post/159757407992/random-tattoos-v2-400-followers-gift-tysm-for

Party 1:

Hair: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-hair-hairstyles-female/title/anara-hairstyle/id/1595371/

Top: (Avril top v2 )https://drive.google.com/file/d/1dWEiHnXiBhtF6pVFFCG3lNYTIFqeXVXQ/view

Pants: https://simcelebrity00.tumblr.com/post/663423245132939264/city-style-mini-set-style-your-sims-in-an-urban

Sneakers: https://www.thesimsresource.com/members/Darte77/downloads/details/category/sims4-sets/title/converse-all-star-sneakers/id/1475519/

Eyeshadow: https://arethabee.tumblr.com/post/651732740137533440/prettysavage

Blush and lipstick: https://crypticsim.com/post/655356905993240576/the-channel-surfing-collection-this-collection

Party 2:

Hair: (Jennifer hair V1) https://drive.google.com/file/d/1dWEiHnXiBhtF6pVFFCG3lNYTIFqeXVXQ/view

Top: (Courtney top) https://aharris00britney.tumblr.com/post/683156200833056768/axa-girlboss

Pants: (Talia pants v1) https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ffiIYR-RVwuaNR8K6JtNK9ZhxgJpjLvE/view

Heels: https://jius-sims.tumblr.com/post/673269490450038784/party-collection-part-2-jius-suede-pumps-01

Eyeshadow: https://crypticsim.com/post/168877301460/the-naughty-nice-palette-this-eyeshadow-palette

Blush and lipstick: same as party 1

Eyeliner: same as formal 2

Party 3:

Hair: https://dogsill.tumblr.com/post/682163967319310336/daphne-hair-had-a-daphne-hair-in-mind-when-making

Dress: https://ghostbouquet-moved.tumblr.com/post/614888283517992960/dead-weight-dress-recolors-recolored-in-18-colors

Heels: (Platform leather sandal 3) https://jius-sims.tumblr.com/post/673269490450038784/party-collection-part-2-jius-suede-pumps-01

Bracelet: (Marija bracelet) https://www.patreon.com/posts/sunbeam-set-56362351

Eyeshadow: same as formal 2

Lipstick and blush: same as party 1

Eyeliner: same as formal 2

Swimwear 1:

Swimsuit: (Cassie pink swimsuit) https://www.patreon.com/posts/euphoria-33-64185964

Blush: same as party 1

Lipstick: https://xurbansimsx.tumblr.com/post/645789848276549632/honey-gloss-urban-this-lip-gloss-is-opaque-and

Swimwear 2:

Swimsuit: https://cubersims.tumblr.com/post/615923898638385152/167-download-born-this-way-underwear-set-my-sims

Hair: I just recently changed her hair so I’m not quite sure which hair that is so sorry.

Blush: same as party 1

Lipstick: https://www.patreon.com/posts/39891353

Hot weather:

Hair: https://sims4hairs.com/vega-hair-v2-by-arethabee-the-sims-resource/

Dress: https://pixelette-cc.tumblr.com/post/616669703207862272/poppy-outfit-new-mesh-ea-mesh-edit-bgc-all-lods

Sandals: https://www.patreon.com/posts/66536007

Eyeshadow: https://www.patreon.com/posts/channel-surfing-52712937

Liner: https://vanilasimscc.tumblr.com/post/623166718635802624/pony-tail-lift-liner-set

Blush: same as party 1

Lipstick: same as party 1

Cold weather:

Hair: same as everyday 5

Top: (Camile blazer V2) https://drive.google.com/file/d/1xiwNgZkS-YMQon5bQ_KL719RoZ91aPY2/view

Jeans: I know they are by AHarris00Britney but I could not find them.

Boots: https://www.patreon.com/posts/coven-collection-31200415

Blush: same as athletic

Lipstick: same as swimwear two

#the sims 4 #sims 4 cas #sims 4 cc

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bleulone · 4 years ago

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It’s very interesting to consider how they will file the Polin love scenes. Partly because I can’t think of many (if any) plus-size female romance scenes that aren’t played for humour at the woman’s expense or where she has to be deeply insecure about her body the whole time and so is filmed mostly covered up.

Obviously it depends on the comfort of the actors but my main concern which is really shallow is the 12 inch height difference which makes Pen and Colin look really awkward on screen. Phoebe and Simon only have a 6inch difference for scale. I’m worried they will skimp out on any good season one style love scenes to avoid it looking awkward on camera. I’m thinking they’ll go safe which is so boring.

Hey! Thank you for sharing this interesting point of yours :) In all honestly, I don’t find Polin’s height difference to be that awkward. On the contrary, I really love it and see it as rather aesthetically pleasing and... very sexy in some ways! I feel like the level of hotness radiated by their upcoming love scenes will highly depend on the visual storytelling, on the choices of the camera angles— the way they’ll focus on the bodies’ movements and espouse our characters’ feelings, enhancing the colorful erotic shade of their relationship.

Plenty of sex scenes featured actors in movies and series despite a considerable height difference. For instance, we can think of Euphoria’s Alexa Demie and Jacob Elordi. Thanks to a specific color palet for the lightning, the scores and a large range of shots chosen to increase intimacy between two characters, viewers are immersed in this steamy atmosphere. They present themselves as useful tools which meticulously help creating physical and emotional intimacy between two people— these tools underlining their common story which naturally fuel the burning carnal desire they feel for one another. You can check this interesting little video concerning this topic in the hit-series Normal People. It reveals the key elements needed to its creation : chemistry, comfort and getting to know the character you play.

With that being said, I don’t think Luke and Nicola’s twelve inches of difference can work in their disfavor nor that it risks to be accidentally cringy. Though a certain cringe of another nature could appear mainly due to the way both Penelope and Colin were portrayed in season 1. Young, uncertain and shy, they don’t stand, walk nor behave confidently like their elders, not when they’re actually making their first steps into the world. By the time the future seasons come out, some radical changes are yet to be seen, first in their personalities then in their physical appearances, making them the self assured and experienced adults they are meant to be. Thus, we, (especially the readers), won’t struggle to picture them being all horny and naughty after the amount of cuteness they served us in s1 ahah.

About the sex itself, in Romancing Mister Bridgerton, Colin is very conscious of his imposing 6 foot-ness which will push him to be even more careful with our (5’1) Penelope when he initiates intimate touches with her. He doesn’t want to intimidate her. He makes sure to not crush her with his weight on the plush cushion of the carriage/of the soft mattress of his bed when he places himself on top of his love and passionately kisses her. He even pulls her on top of him at some point to make her feel comfortable with his body (and the proof of his need). It’s a nice call back to the scene in Chapter 18 where Colin, before deflowering Penelope, is very concern about hurting her or doing anything she doesn’t like during the act. To what she lovingly answers “Let me be the judge”, meaning that Pen’s pleasure is put in the center of his attention... or a wonderful mark of the female gaze : Penelope takes her own agency in the deep exploration of her sexuality. Those elements are most likely to be translated on screen through the uses of close ups on their faces, eyes, hands and other body parts... and DIALOGUE ! It will be so adorable seeing Colin eager to put her needs before his and making sure that Penelope is enjoying herself as much as he does.

I don’t know what our couple are willing to show but I’m still hoping we get the same type of steamy scenes Daphne/Simon and Anthony/Siena had in season 2 (and why not more lol)— IF, like you said, the actors are comfortable with nudity obviously (which they’ve probably signed up for). Once again, I feel like it’ll be very gripping to see a plus-size woman’s half naked body in a period drama getting the same depiction as a slim one, showing that curviness doesn’t prevent you from being desirable or sexy to the eye of your significant other as well as the mainstream public.

In any case, I’m sure Lizzy Talbot, Bridgerton’s intimacy coordinator, and the directors will perfectly know how to stage and depict this fondamental aspect of the show, aka hot!Polin, on screen. Hell, they can even surprise us, innovate, by not necessarily being “boring” but still going safe. They’re a fan favorite couple so I have faith in what the production has in store for us and for our boos. After all, the show already set its tone in season 1 : it’s lavish and sexy as hell. Plus, Chris Van Dusen and Jonathan Bailey said in previous interviews that season 2 will be even more sexier... so yeah, season 3 and 4 are definitely following on from this. Even Nicola and Luke are very fan of the ship and the fandom’s love for them ^^. Either way, having a very long slow burn like Polin will be such a wild ride and trust me, when the payoff’ll finally arrive, imma savor every second of it!

#bleulone answers #ask #anon #meta and gush #polin meta #polin #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton

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daphnedauphinoise · 2 years ago

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Next style guide 🥺

For you,my muse:

Carolyn Bessette

She was a publicist at Calvin Klein when she met the king of prep, my personal hearthrob, JFK Junior. I love this deatched vibe that you get from her and well JFK Junior got that too from her. I loved her because she gotJFK Jr but I love her even more because she has never not looked good.

Carolyn’s style in three words would be simple, androgynous and straightforward. She doesn’t venture into anything too colourful or too risque but that is what works with her look and why she looks good all the time. Her style is a result of having a solid capsule wardrobe with items she van rotate throughout the year. But her capsule wardrobe is slightly different from the modern 2020 capsule wardrobe. What I love about Carolyn is the lack of blazers. Instead she uses long coats, long sleeved knits or she just goes sleeveless. Constantly wearing a blazer (imo) isn’t as stylish as people think it is, it is very easy to use a blazer as a scapegoat when you know your outfit is heading south. Sure, there isn’t alot of variety in her style but that 'simpleness' is what looks good on her and her commitent to that, is why she looked good all the time.

The basics of her style is a button down, trousers and loafers. In most of her pap photographs she is wearing a variation of this. During warmer months, she switches to a silk skirt. She wasn’t a accessoriezer either or a makeup girlie. Infact in most of her pictures she is only sporting red lipstick and her hair either out and in a bun.

Regardless she has the coolness about her and she complimented JFK Jr well... a lot of people did not think so but I say she did.

How to dress like Carolyn Bessette in..

Autumn/Winter?

Long silhouettes work beautifully during winter. Long A-line coats made with good quality wool are some of the best types of coats. Thicker knits layered on top of each other paired with structured trousers. I like to advise my friends to keep their knits and cardigan loongg. Long shilotues are very pleasing to the eye, it makes you look more uniform and it makes you look taller with a silmming effect. If you are petite and/or you have a large bust, avoid crowding your neck with knitwear. High necks tend to make women with bigger bust look congested and stuffy. ( It also gives us the most unforgiving uniboob too) Try more v-line neckline or scoop neckline with knits, also I tend to avoid thick knits as the volume of the fabric makes me look clunky and not oversized chic.

In a style where everything is so consistent, colour is how you are going to look different. You would think people would wear darker, rich colours in the colder months but they don’t. There is no need to be mono-chromatic all the time and again being dressed in mono-chromatic head to toe, isn’t the hallmark of good style. Carolyn used a lot of red to stop her outfits from looking repetitive. I think red is avery underrated colour. You only ever see it in lingere or silk-satin dresses because people only associate sensuality with red and compelty ignore that red also means power. Red in coats has the power to draw you in becuase you look different but the sleekness of your style isn’t screaming clown from the travelling circus but powerful lady coming through.

Carolyn (i say as we were besties) loved wearing loafers. I think she wore them a lot because loafers show skin which helps break up an outfit. Because she wears a lot of long silhouettes and matching dark trousers and dark footwear, it is good to wear something that breaks up your body so you don’t look like a long line with no feet. Ballet flats are coming back and they do the same thing as well. Boots are another staple. I love pairing boots and long dress together. For the Carolyn Bessette look I would ditch the bratz esque knee high boots for something that is more loose with a moderate heel height.

Spring? Summer?

Personally, I am resortwear kind of girl. Heavily perfumes, heavily adorned and in soft fluttering fabrics is how you will find me. But Carolyn, nope. She still maintains those structures in her clothing choice during the summer months. Boxy oversized shorts, structured linen shorts (I highly reccomend everyont to have one pair in cream or beige, its such an essential), sandals, chinos, ribbed cami and silk-satin dresses that end just under your knee.

Hamptons chic is her summer style. Linen, cotton and merino wool for the chiller knits. This is the time to wear the lighter colours of your favourite colours. If you want (and Carolyn did this) you can wear the same ensemble of an outfit but with lighter fabrics.

What I have noticed that is different in her spring/summer style and her autumn/winter is that there is a certain laissez-faire in her dressing style. Top buttons are undone, her hair is messier and she is relaxed. Her hair was always unkept but I think that really worked for her.

Brands to get inspo for Carolyn’s style: Iris & Ink, Khaite, Joseph and The Row.

There is a girl on tikok who is a great person to follow if you like Carolyn’s style ( i will tag her when i find her) .

Overall her style is very model-off duty-esque. There isn't really anything that stands out about her style from the next model but her style is undeniably hers. Apart from her marriage to JFK Jr her cool style is what she is remembered for. Everyone who met her in NYC would say that her style and grace were what caught their eyes. She had a way of holding her neck eye and she has this look that nothing could truly surprise her. It was her who truly established the minimalist look when fashion was heading straight to colour, glitter and prints. I miss her and I think about her all the time and I hope as she looks down from heaven that she is the blueprint and 20 years later people still want to emulate her signature look.

Daphne xoxo

#you ask for daphne's answer #daphne's style file

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saedii-gilwraeth-simp · 4 years ago

Text

We’re on Fire (blow a kiss to the crowd) ~ TDC ~ Chapter 3

It’s technically late by 50 minutes but it’s here

CHAPTER 3 ~ I Know I Must Play my Part

~ Capitol ~

Pietyr had been overjoyed whilst he showed Joseph and Arsinoe their floor of the training centre’s staying quarters. He seemed to have warmed to the two of them, talking about all of the sponsors they would get and how now all they had to do was impress the game makers and then they were on their way to Victor Village. Arsinoe thinks Pietyr wants them to win for his own self-service, but she keeps that to herself in favour of looking out the windows to the colourful streets below.

She can’t help but scowl at the people on the streets. They were dressed to the nines in broad daylight, sharp shades of blue and green and bubblegum pink. Arsinoe holds her short and fraying black dress tight in her fists, only dropping her scowl when Joseph joined her at the window.

“Pietyr says we have to go and get styled for the parade,” Arsinoe nods, turning away from the window and going with him.

Her head stylist’s name is Daphne and she is a regal and sharp-witted woman who Arsinoe finds herself oddly both afraid of and drawn to. They sit on the bench together waiting for the other stylists to come finish up.

“Now, Joseph’s stylist and I were talking and we hate the idea of you two as cowboys. It’s stupid, so we thought outside the box. How do you feel about heels?” Arsinoe would have laughed if it weren’t for Daphne’s strict eyes.

“I’ve never worn heels in my life and besides, I’m too tall,” Arsinoe says, glancing at her legs. Daphne scoffs.

“We’re putting Joseph in them too. You two will be tall and sleek, just leave it to me,” she pats Arsinoe’s shoulder and hops off the bench, letting the stylists come in and begin to pick at her skin, nails and hair. The stylist examining her hair tutted at the rough chop of her dark tresses and Arsinoe clenched her jaw slightly to avoid huffing. Her hair was hers.

The next hours were spent being poked and prodded by aggressive stylists. Her hair was washed aggressively before one side was pulled into tight braids and the other side was left artfully messy and a headband with a pair of heavy ivory horns was placed atop her head. Her nails were scrubbed, cut and filed before being painted with a black-brown gel.

Finally she was led into a room where Daphne stood… next to a dress and a pair of blocky heels. Arsinoe sighed. The dress was mostly a cream white silk but had large swaths of black-brown cow hide stitched onto it. It was beautiful and subtle but it wasn’t her style.

“So, instead of cowgirl, you’re just doing cow,” Daphne nodded.

“Would you prefer to be a golden cow girl?” Arsinoe shook her head. At least in this she would be uncomfortable but not ridiculous. Daphne nodded before ushering her to put the dress on.

After she had put on the dress and the shoes and the brown fingerless gloves, Arsinoe had been sent back to makeup where she had been given an aggressive smoky eye and red lipstick. Now she waited by her chariot, walking around to get used to her shoes. They were almost not bad, solely by the fact that they were platform and not stiletto so Arsinoe wasn’t constantly lurching forward. She watched as the other districts come through the underground hall.

1 in feathers, 2 in ridiculous gladiator costumes, 3 looking like they had lost a fight with cables, 4 in bright blue scales, 5 with lightning, 6 like a train, 7 a tree, 8 in full silk, 9 in wheat coloured sacks, 11 in grass and finally 12 up the back, looking like they had rolled around in soot.

“Damn, Arsinoe, you look scary,” she turns to see Joseph finally approaching and she has to laugh. While she at least looks classy, Joseph looks ridiculous, with a cape and gloves that don’t even show his individual fingers. She laughs until her stomach hurts and she has to hold her hands to her eyes to stop her tears running from her face and wrecking her makeup. He punches her shoulder and she finally stands back up straight.

“Sorry, sorry. Gosh I needed that. You look great,” he scowls at her and she smiles just as their stylists hurry over.

“Okay, you two, on the chariot. Remember to smile and wave,” Daphne says. She holds Arsinoe’s hand and aids her in stepping onto the chariot, before pulling a string in the bodice of the dress, unravelling a long train that falls just over the edge of the chariot without tangling in the dirt. Joseph whistles until Arsinoe hits his arm.

Before Arsinoe could process what was happening, the stylists stepped back and the chariots were moving. Joseph touched her wrist and leaned closer to her ear.

“I think my makeup is too thick to smile,” he said with a tight smile on his face, making Arsinoe smile, trying to hold back her laughter as they came out into the brightly lit Tribute Row. The crowds roared when they saw Arsinoe and Joseph and they both held up their hands and waved and blew kisses. Arsinoe saw herself on one of the screens and wanted to applaud Joseph for calming her nerves and making her look naturally likeable. The chariot rattled along the lane and Arsinoe and Jospeh were cheered much more than any other because they were pretty and joyous and seemed to be the only ones interested in the crowd.

They finally reached the end of the row and President Arron raised her hands. Arsinoe tried not to scowl at the women. President Natalia Arron was a ruler with an iron fist and made the lives of all of the districts people a living hell, because she could. Needless to say, no one in the outer districts was particularly fond of their president.

But Arsinoe had a part to play. So when President Arron’s eyes meet hers, she smiles her sweetest smile.

TAG LIST: @poisonerrose, @alwaysbored005

#three dark crowns #one dark throne #two dark reigns #five dark fates #kendare blake #queen arsinoe #joseph sandrin #pietyr arron #queen daphne #natalia arron #we're on fire #WoF

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quietkite · 4 years ago

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𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐬 | 𝟏

The Wattpad Version ➼ Lovely Little Liars Table of Contents

𝗟𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀

Trigger Warnings:

Offensive Language, Mention of Death

Draco

He couldn't bear to look.

Lucius Malfoy stood on a podium with restraints on both his arms and legs. A heavy metal brace rested on his neck with a multitude of locks unable to be unlocked with just a simple 'alohomora'.

His mother was next to him with an emotionless look on her face, but she knew how to control her emotions. Her hands were locked with her son's, squeezing it with a mixture of fear, anxiety and comfort.

He couldn't tell if she was giving or wanting the comfort.

Draco could have almost been unrecognisable. His overly light blonde hair was a mess. He wore an oversized light grey shirt with long, pushed up sleeves. He had navy jeans that were ironed but slightly crushed up. He could have been Potter if he wanted to.

There were fifty people in stands looking down from their high spots. Draco stood by his mother on the side of the cold, and open, cobblestone courtyard where his father stood silently on his podium in the middle of it all.

Then out of nowhere, memories flooded his head, bad memories. It worsened by the second and Draco felt that he might have blacked out.

But it was time.

A dementor floated airily toward his father. Draco saw the anguish in his father's eyes. The defeat. The dementor didn't immediately suck out his father's soul like how the process of the dementor's kiss would normally go. His father turned his head to see his wife and son one last time. But the anguish in his father's eyes turned into hatred as he looked at Draco. He was able to get one word out before the dementor took his soul.

"Faggot."

The dementor took less than a minute to take the man's soul as Lucius's soulless body was dragged away after falling forwards with an eerie hollow-sounding thud.

That was when the tears flooded out. Draco didn't know if he was crying over his father's soul being permanently stripped away forever or that his last words were about his complete hatred for him. His mother took her hand from his and rubbed his back trying to soothe him. Draco knew how much this broke his mother too.

When they reached the elevators, Draco had composed himself enough. No matter how much his family was hated now, he couldn't show the pain. The Malfoys shouldn't show any more emotions than they already had shown. Too much emotion that is showcased to the world, meant the more damage that could be done to you from the world.

Narcissa then swiftly apparated them back to the Malfoy Manor silently.

Once there, his mother immediately requested to be alone as she slowly, yet gracefully, walked to her quarters, her black high heels clicking as she walked.

Draco's trials had happened the week before. He was spared for being underage when he took the mark. Someone defended him but they wore their hood hiding their identity. When Lucius's punishment had completely finished Draco had a faint glimpse of his defender's vibrant, emerald green eyes and round looking glasses as the Wizengamot members filed out as his defender attended Lucius's soul detachment. The mysterious person was a bit shorter than average, had tanned skin and wore muggle-looking shoes called running shoes. Draco could have guessed they were no older than seventeen or sixteen.

Although Draco didn't understand how the stranger had to much evidence to prove his innocence.

But alas, the stranger wasn't able to prove him to be completely innocent. He still had the dark mark.

As Draco wasn't going to Azkaban yet, they put him on probation instead.

He couldn't cast any offensive spells and hardly any of the ministry-approved spells were helpful to him. The ministry then made it so if Draco were to leave his home he would only be allowed twelve hours per day.

A loud bang sounded at the door making Draco visibly jump. Quickly running towards the door in case it was the ministry, he opened the door to see a person slightly shorter than him with raven coloured hair styled in a short, black bob, immediately attacking him with a strong bear hug. Not far back was another with long, dark brown hair that had a natural purple tint, smiling.

It was Pansy and Astoria.

Pansy and Astoria could have been counted as two of his actual best friends.

Pansy was his first friend that was a girl ever. They weren't ever going to marry as their families were already close enough to be family. She had admitted to liking him in the sixth year while they were in their seventh. But she got over that quickly. But to him, Pansy was always like his sister. She helped him in his darkest times and vice versa. They were quite close. They loved each other as actual siblings would. He would do anything for her.

Astoria was a bit of a different case. The two were mutual friends at first thanks to one of his other friends being Daphne Greengrass, Astoria's older sister. When Draco was in his seventh year and she was in her fifth, they were told they'd be wed one year after Astoria graduated from Hogwarts. Because Daphne had died a month after the war when her health was terrible from a blood curse which resurfaced in her and a critical hit while fighting in the war it caused the entire Greengrass family go through much grief. They still grieved, because family is one of the hardest lose.

"Dray, darling!",Pansy cried out as Draco hugged her, shocked about her and Astoria's sudden,unexpected arrival.

"W-what are you two doing here?",Draco asked confusedly.

Pansy shot Astoria a look of confusion and worry. Astoria crept up closer towards the doorway.

"Did you not receive the letter?",Pansy replied with a clear sense of agitation and worry lining her voice.

"Maybe it would be better if we talked inside.",Astoria stated, pointing inside the manor.

Draco quickly looked backwards inside his house to see if his mother was still in her room before answering,"Of course, although we ran out of tea and won't be able to get anymore for a while without our house elves for the year."

Pansy gave a firm, but compassionate nod while Astoria gave him another smile.

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"I am so sorry we weren't there for you today, we—",Pansy started before Draco cut her off.

"It's okay. I'm fine now. But what is this about a letter?",Draco asked, quickly changing the subject.

Pansy eyed him, searching for clues to see how Draco wasn't fine at all, before answering Draco's question.

"I was in my Manor reading when an owl flew in with a letter. As you know our owls normally went straight to our parents unless it was a friend our parents approved of. But the stamp was none of the pureblood crests. It...it was from Hogwarts. They requested that we were to come to Hogwarts for a reunion and some news. And this was only sent to those in our year. But I-we, came here to ask if you were coming to the reunion."

Draco was shocked.

A reunion?

How come he was never owled?

"Do you know who else is coming? Slytherins I mean."

"Well, Goyle...he committed suicide after Crabbe died. Theo gave me a maybe though it was pretty unclear, Blaise hasn't answered any of mine or Astoria's owls. But I do know that I'm going, although Astoria is only in her sixth year meaning she can't go. That bitch, Millicent is dead thank Morgana. But I heard a rumour that Tracey was going to come after she was proven innocent by the ministry."

Draco stiffened at the thought of Tracey. None of his friends were ever fond of her and Millicent, for reasons nobody wanted to nor was ready to discuss.

"I will go only since you will be going and because Astoria cannot go with you. When did the letter say the reunion was?"

"In two days time I believe."

"Merlin. Okay, I will have to let mother know then. Have either of you two seen Theo or Blaise since the war?"

"I haven't seen the two but Pansy and I have only owled Theo once if that counts and his response was only one word. But we're not exactly sure if he will go to the reunion. And we haven't heard a word from Blaise since then. He just disappeared off the radar.",Astoria piped up. She was almost always with Pansy and always thought of her as second older sister. Especially since Daphne's death.

"How is your mother doing right now Dray? Je me sens comme un idiote de ne pas demander!"

"She's....fine...",Draco remarked doubtfully, looking backwards at the kilometre long hallway filled with the moving portraits of the past Malfoys.

"She's that bad? Merlin!",Pansy replied a gasp, shaking her head with pity.

Astoria discreetly nudged the young woman as she realised what time it was. At least half an hour had passed.

"Merde. Sorry to cut our time short Dray dear but I promised Astoria we'd go somewhere for a bit as she can't apparate on her own yet. Oh! Mcgonagall also stated that she wanted us there a day earlier. I can apparate us to the train station."

"It's completely fine. I should be available then. I'll have to let mother know now."

Astoria gave Draco a smile as Pansy gave him one last tight, warm hug before Pansy apparated the two young women to wherever they had made plans to go.

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When the two girls were gone Draco let out a heavy sigh.

He trudged to his paren— his mother's room to check on her. Lucius's death took quite a toll on her. He didn't know what could happen to her if he left her alone for only two days.

Draco opened the door as the only sound made was a squeak from the door opening. Narcissa laid in her bed upright with a tiny, dark green book in her hands, silently flipping the page, a small frown etched onto her face.

"Mother..?"

"D-Draco!",Narcissa jumped,"I didn't hear you come in! Did you need something? Is it already supper? I can make you some food if your—"

"No no mother. It's just that Pansy and Astoria came over a small while ago and informed me of something."

"Oh those two darlings, what was it that happened dear?"

"Er— They told me that all of the seventh years from last year were invited to a reunion. I have already confirmed with Pansy on my attendance to the meet. But was part of the ministry's prohibition not giving us our letters? I only just found out about the reunion from Pansy today. But more importantly, will you be okay alone? It should only last two days, but I'll have to leave tomorrow."

"I should be fine by myself Draco. I am not that weak to become dysfunctional over one man's death. Although I will contact my lawyer about the owls. You should go start packing. Your old school trunk is in your sixth closet."

Draco smiled at his mother, who's stance straightened up, as he left the door with a squeak when he closed the door slowly.

Once the door was closed completely, Draco walked quickly to his own room and slammed the door shut as he slid down the door, his long legs sprawled out

He took a long deep breathe as he smiled some tears falling down.

"I wonder if Potter will be there."

Table of Contents

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#angst #blairon #blaise zabini #draco malfoy #drarry #fanfiction #gaylove #gryffindor #harry potter #hermione granger #lgbtq+#love #pansmione #pansy parkinson #ron weasley #slytherin #trauma

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drops-of-moonlights · 5 years ago

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WINX REDUX AU SUMMARIZED: INTERLUDE I (Season 1.5)

Or, in which I give the basics of what I’ve changed about the story for the AU. It was originally way more descriptive but if I kept it in that style I would have finished in 2039 and I ain’t got time for that. Here we cover the events that occur between Season 1 and Season 2!

WINX REDUX AU INTERLUDE I - The Girl in the Golden Mirror

A week has passed since the Winx finished their first year, when Bloom has a sudden dream with Daphne.

She seems like she’s disappearing and the word mirror keeps popping up.

After two more days of the same dream, though with Daphne getting clearer each time (“The Mirror in Roccaluce, get the Mirror in Roccaluce, please”), Bloom finally calls Stella up so she can go to Magica City for a bit to do some research she can’t do on Earth.

After a quick look at the library, they finally find some records of what was found in Domino immediately after the Freezing, and how records of mirrors pop up a lot.

Bloom decides to go back to Domino and explore the castle top to bottom, to see if she can find more about what Daphne could have possibly meant.

She initially calls the Winx, but none of them are available atm - Flora’s away on a small camp with other Plant Source magi, Musa is on vacation with her dad and brother on Hoggar, Tecna’s busy helping her parents on a new project and Aisha’s catching up with all her duties as a Princess that were left unattended when she left for Alfea, and she’s currently trying to schedule a meeting with Pixie Village for some trade arrangements.

After a bit, Stella convinces her to call Sky and Diaspro, who both know more about Domino than they do and could probably use an excuse to drop royal life for a bit.

Bloom is hesitant, since while she got clear with Sky and they decided to simply stop dating altogether, and while Diaspro and Sky seemingly made up as well, she hasn’t quite worked out how to approach Diaspro and apologize for the incident yet.

She does anyway hoping the possibilities of near-death experiences will help her talk to people.

They hit up Sky (who’s in Eraklyon at the moment) and he promises he’ll come for them in a ship, and when they call Diaspro they’re surprised she’s near them, at Alfea.

After meeting up with her she elaborates that she’s gonna start attending the school next semester, feeling the current ambiance in Eraklyon Institute not good for her and she’d like the change of pace.

Bloom and Diaspro both dance around the subject of the incident and gleefully pretend nothing happened despite both of them wanting to talk about it, and Stella starts dying inside.

Sky arrives and they leave for Domino. Bloom, in an attempt to not talk at all, starts paying more attention to everyone’s appearance and she realizes, at last, that she has a thing for blonde people giving her current appreciation of the prince and princesses’s looks.

They land near the ruins of the Palace and start searching for ways to enter, as the curse covered the way they had entered a few weeks ago with snow. After a while they set up some kind of trap, getting separated.

Bloom and Diaspro find themselves together and start exploring the place they landed in, which seems to be some sort of bedroom connected to a library.

They find out this is in fact Daphne’s room, and start searching around to see if they can find info about that mirror she keeps talking about, eventually finding a research file/diary of hers.

The mirror is the Golden Mirror Staff, Daphne’s weapon of choice, that had a Dragonscale of Light embedded in it that she used to enhance her magic from time to time.

Bloom remembers that Daphne can actually appear in the castle in the deeper parts, so they start to search a way to get there.

They manage to leave the room but end up trapped in a different place, and after a while Diaspro decides to finally stop dancing around the subject and actually start talking about the subject.

She apologizes for her reaction and for what she said on media to save face, as well as finally start working around just how badly the incident affected all of them. Bloom apologizes for attacking her as well, and for her general weird attitude the entire trip.

Diaspro finally asks if they can start over as friends, and they both introduce themselves over again while laughing. Diaspro earns her Glamourix at that moment, and realizing that they could simply make a way themselves to the basement, Bloom also transforms and use a convergence spell, to make a hole on the frozen walls and finally start advancing.

They reunite with Stella and Sky on the way (they had fallen near the main hall but had to fight some ice monsters left over from the last time they had been there), and finally make their way down the castle to see if they can meet Daphne one more time.

Once there they manage to summon her and realize her state - her form was blurry and glitchy, and in between static noises finally manages to complete her message:

She was trapped inside her mirror by Myraria after she managed to teleport Bloom to Earth, and the mirror somehow ended in Lake Roccaluce. She had been asleep for the last 17 years until Bloom arrived on Magix, sensing her family’s Dragon Aura managed to wake her up and that’s how she has been managing to communicate with her.

However, the mirror is starting to give up to time and the waves, and if she’s not freed soon from the mirror she might die for real. She begs them to delve into the Lake and retrieve the mirror before it’s too late, and gives them enough instructions for the release spell that they can fill in with some extra research.

Stella teleports them to the ship again and they leave for Magix, and Bloom and Diaspro start researching for releasing or freeing spells while on the trip to see what they can do with only 2 Glamourix fairies and one Charmix one.

Replicating the underwater breath spell Aisha taught them during their second trip to Melmamora (and with the Specialists’ Armor’s dive form) the four dive into the depths of the lake, finding the mirror near a big, gorgeous coral formation that reminded Bloom of a mermaid’s tail somehow.

The mirror’s frame is cracked and water is starting to seep in, the glass also starting to chip. The team rushes to the surface and go as fast as they can to Alfea, hoping Faragonda hadn’t left the place yet to spend her vacation.

Luckily for them, Faragonda was still there, alongside Griselda and Wizgiz. The three teachers alongside the three young fairies then perform the spell, with Bloom acting as a catalyst so their shared power can react and make the process faster.

After a few tiring minutes, the mirror finally gives up, breaking, but also freeing Daphne from within, her falling to the floor. A tattered golden gown clings to her, and she finally meets Bloom face to face, in the real world.

Bloom inmediately hugs her older sister, and tries to talk to her before realizing Daphne has fainted. They bring her to her dorm to rest and recover (she did just spend a lot of time without a body, after all), and Bloom can’t shake a smile from her face. After everything that happened with the Trix, this felt… nice.

A few weeks have passed, and Daphne’s more or less fully recovered. She starts wondering what is she gonna do now that she’s back into this realm of existence, and due to the lack of options, decides to stay at Alfea for a bit, acting as a librarian assistant while she starts looking for ways to see if the curse on Domino can be broken.

Stella, Sky and Diaspro return to their kingdoms and royal duties, with the added promise that they’ll meet again once classes start again. Bloom returns to Earth at last, and cheerfully spends the rest of her summer in leisure.

Time passes, and classes will start again in less than a month. Aisha has finally managed to arrange a meeting with the Pixies of Magix’s Pixie Village, and decides to go herself as an ambassador to make the process faster as well to leave Andros for a bit. She arrives at the meeting point and meets a group of 8 Pixies.

They talk for a bit, and manage to solidify an agreement, right before the ground caves from under them, and strange monsters capture them.

They’re dragged deep, deep down, into an upside down castle called Shadowhaunt...

#Winx Club #Winx Redux AU #Winx AU Detailing #Winx Redux AU: Summarized

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anbfnatural · 5 years ago

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2019 ANBF Universe Championships Results

Here are the 2019 ANBF Universe Championships Results. Held once again in beautiful Key West FL December 7th

2019 ANBF Universe Championships Results

Figure PRO 1st Amy Lademann

Classic Physique Debut 1st Anthony Salvatore 2nd Monford Johnson

Bikini Debut 1st Kathryn Davis 2nd Carla Sanchez

Men’s Physique Debut 1st Anthony Salvatore 2nd Matthew Gerace

Classic Physique Novice 1st Anthony Salvatore

Bikini Novice 1st Kathryn Davis 2nd Carla Sanchez 3rd Daphne Olsen

Men’s Physique Novice 1st Anthony…

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badgerpride96 · 5 years ago

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The Sun Lantern - Short Story

YES, A SHORT STORY, SHE SAID. IT WILL BE QUICK, SHE SAID. Anyway this is that short story, I had so much fun with it. @g10-gaming Sent me a post about “everyday magic” and I filed it away ages ago. I love this story, I hope it makes someone smile today :)

Nothing is ever more jolting than your alarm going off during REM sleep. I practically flew out of bed. Smacking around on my bedside table for my phone, I wondered if I could call in sick today. No way would my boss not see through that.

I sat up rubbing my eyes. My room was almost too small for one person; my bed took up most of the space, with the dresser shoved into one corner and a tiny desk in the other. I couldn’t open my door all the way because it hit the desk, but that didn’t matter as I always kept it closed. My plants floated above my head- lavender over my bed, english ivy weaving itself across the windows, jasmine blooming every day over my desk, kokedamas of succulents and ferns drifting around, all hopefully giving off serotonin and dopamine amplifiers. Supposedly helping my mental state.

My current mental state was foggy, distantly awake, and apathetic. A fairly good start. I hauled myself out of bed, snatching up my jeans and hopping into them to the door. I opened it silently in case any of either of the human girls I lived with were asleep. No one was in the living room. It was 4:30 AM, so this was expected, even of the vampire. He got home from the immunology lab at 3, and did reports and studying shut up in his room. Night shift, of course; I heard the other shift workers loved him. I went to pour some tea leaves in the kitchen, and mindlessly scooped at an empty can before remembering I’d run out yesterday.

“Fuck me,” I mumbled, doing my best not to stomp as I made my way to the bathroom instead. As I brushed my teeth, I assessed how much work I wanted to bother putting into my hair. I used to straighten it every morning, but that took so long I eventually gave up. Besides, my mama said natural black hair was beautiful anyway, and if it was good enough for Mama, it was good enough for me. My makeup sat optimistically in my drawer of the cabinet, most of it having expired untouched several months ago. I did the bare minimum; my hair was a mess of corkscrews, longer than it had ever been. I looked like a hyacinth, a smaller face surrounded by an explosion of adornment.

I washed my face and checked my watch. I had more time than usual, so stopping to get Cassie’s tea wouldn’t be a problem. I texted Daphne, my boss, asking if she wanted anything. I zipped up an old canvas jacket and locked my front door behind me.

It was a brisk April morning, alright for a run. The cold air was sharp in my lungs as I started to jog downtown. I didn’t like public transport and couldn’t afford car payments. Males of every species tended to be too...grabby in a bus or metro carriage, and besides I had no issue with running. Nymphs are known for being fast runners. I hear Apollo learned this the hard way. Idiot.

I ran through the street lit morning, the city already humming around me. I passed Merl’s Auto, with Merl himself opening his roll door. Jessie, his familiar currently presenting as a dalmation, barked happily at me as I waved to Merl.

“Alright, love?” He called to me.

“Still going!” I shouted back. Jessie leapt up and ran to the end of the block with me, I turned onto Main, heading towards the heart of downtown. The main drag was lined with huge oak trees. The dryads had petitioned to put them in to “beautify” downtown about ten years ago. As dryad decisions go, it was a fairly good one. I slowed as I neared Cassie’s, pulling out my wallet. Cassie waved at me as I approached the windows.

Cassie’s Coffee was a larger storefront. Windows wrapped around the front, exposed brick warming the inside. Everything was “natural” looking inside Cassie’s, without crossing over into the “vegan anti-vaxxer” style. Live edge tables were lit by simple elegant pendant lights, the different shots and enchantments lined the walls in glass jars, and the best coffee money could buy came in huge mugs. This morning, in the middle of the week at 5 AM, no customers were laughing in the windows. Cassie stood at the grinder, pouring in beans. The chimes above the door announced me.

“Morning, love!” She called out without turning around. “Right there on the bar for you!”

“Thanks, Cassie.” I pulled out my wallet as I approached. Two take-away teas were steaming there; one oolong, extra shot of focus and honey, and one chai with two calm and one vanilla. You could taste the magic in them. Focus tasted bittersweet, something to snap you back. Hope tasted like honey, not too sweet but enough to notice. Calm and confidence were similar, warm and spicy, but the latter with a slight tang. Both were excellent with chai. I wrinkled my nose. I hated chai, but Daphne drank it like it was going out of style. “Wow, how’d you know?”

“Oh, a joker, so original.” She wasn’t facing me but I knew the eye roll just the same. The scorn of a seer over a joke, I tell you.

I was about to remind her that I had to pay when the swinging door to the back room opened and suddenly my lungs forgot how to breathe properly. A girl walked into the room, the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. She was perfectly proportioned, like a sculptor had agonized over the exact full curves of her hips for weeks. Her hair, shining silvery white, was pinned in an elegant low ponytail swishing past her hips. Carrying a box, she walked to the other end of the bar, away from me. Her hair pin caught my eye; it seemed to glow, emitting its own light. It even flickered. There was something unmistakably magical about her, but not any magic I knew of. It was mysterious. It felt like seeing a fantastical painting scene, where it seems unreachable tranquil and mystical. She was-

“Right that’s 5. 32,” Cassie said, tossing the empty coffee sack aside.

“I...what?”

“Money, sweetheart. For the tea?”

“Tea! Right!” I was sweating bullets. The girl turned to look at me and smiled. Fuck. I handed Cassie her $6.00-with-tip-total and booked it out the door.

“I am a disaster,” I muttered to myself as I walked as fast as I physically could to Daphne’s, angrily sipping my tea. This did nothing to assuage my annoyance, but it did distract me by searing the shit out of the roof of my mouth. I turned the corner onto Garden, trying to salvage the morning. At least the focus shot was already starting to work.

Daphne’s Flowers was a hole-in-the-wall shop, literally. When the city was established and a town center founded, buildings were far apart so as to allow for carriages to deliver between them. Some were filled in, especially those along the riverfront. But about 25 years ago, a water main burst between the two, severely damaging one building and destroying the decaying courtyard between the two. Daphne offered to buy the land between for her flower shop, had the concrete removed and began restoring the underlying soil. Now, it looked as I saw it; a Dutch door at the entrance, latices of vines creating a living building, and a soft glow breaching through the leaves. The vines could be opened up if it was warm, or if it was raining lightly. Behind the door lay a calm, lush oasis of Daphne’s wonderful imagination.

Daphne had known me since I was born. She’d been a friend of my mother’s since childhood, and Mama had worked for her since my father had left. Daphne offered me a job and her when I showed a proficiency for magical and ornate flowers. Daphne was a nymph, just like my mother and I. She had general plant and flower manipulation, whereas I, an anthsousia, specialized in flowers. When I was old enough, Daphne developed a wedding wing of her business, which I worked almost exclusively in now due to my talents with the fancier flora.

Today, as I worked the gate open while balancing the cups, Daphne was starting on the local orders of the day. She was wearing her usual uniform of a t-shirt and overalls. Her long black hair was in a braid, streaks of grey weaving almost to her waist. She smiled at me, barely a line in that beautiful face. She stood as I came in.

“Good mornin, hon,” she said, wiping her hands on a rag and accepting her tea, “Oh, how lovely.”

“Morning,” I said, going around the counter to find my apron.

“How’re you doin today?”

“Alright.” I shrugged.

She looked at me for a moment longer than was necessary, as though she might debate this. She was older than my Mama was and yet neither of them ever seemed to have a discernible age. They had just seemed to be. It had been just the three of us, running the shop; three magical black ladies, sipping tea and growing plants.

“Okay then,” Daphne said, in a tone that said she didn’t believe me but wouldn’t admit it. She patted my cheek. “Lots to do.”

I grabbed my orders clipboard, cracked my knuckles, and plunged my hands into the soil.

It rained the whole month Mama was sick, but it was sunny the day she died. It seemed, at the time, to be so unjust as to be criminal. Who could have seen this woman and give her nothing but clouds as she slipped away, never to see sunlight again? It was two years ago, nearly to the day, but I remember vividly the anger I felt at seeing the sun. I’m sure Apollo heard my grief that day. I’m sure every god, regardless of region or religion, was blamed for taking my mother back. I would like to tell you that I let go of that anger, that I had a fairy tale story of rebirth and growing stronger. But instead the anger faded, and nothing replaced it. Nothing at all. It was like I was the one buried in soil, like my plants; aware of the world above, wishing to join, but not strong enough to break through. It was at least a month before I could even grow a daisy.

Now, my magic was full again, and as it was all I had, I put my whole life into these flowers. I grew them slowly, each getting its own care and time. Nymphs can’t grow a whole shop’s inventory on the spot. Well, we could, but the drain on our power and energy would cause any normal nymph to lose consciousness. We grew our flowers little by little. For large orders, we carved out days. For others, like daily deliveries, we could do it in an hour. Sun lanterns, bluebells with soft chimes, and the roses with built in charm enhancements were the biggest magical sellers, my personal favorite flowers being sun lanterns. Vibrant yellow pods, they were essentially immortal. Like Lazurus plants with water, they would remain dormant and shriveled until placed in sunlight for an hour or so; then, they would uncurl and float up in the air, illuminating a room for up to about a day. Natural solar lanterns.

We had all sorts of succulents, flowers, ground cover, and shrubs. We delivered to local businesses and events, especially weddings. These could be an all day affair, when I stayed at the venue to constantly maintain the freshness of the blooms. It drained me, but I got to keep all the tips and Daphne always gave me one or two days off after. Today, we had a delivery to two hotels and two cafes. As I scanned my clipboard, I noticed Cassie’s was the last stop. From under the soil, I felt a little sun break through as I considered that girl would be there. I immediately shook myself. I was being dense. I was just curious; she certainly wasn’t human, but she wasn’t any kind of magic I knew.

In thinking about this, one of the lilies for the first hotel came out slightly pink rather than white. I quickly fixed it, the annoyed feeling from earlier starting to seep in. I was getting distracted and I never wanted to mess up an order due to just being distracted. I got all the lilies cut, added the appropriate greenery we kept handy, wrapped up the package and left for the hotel. I managed to put the girl out of my head until I’d delivered the second to last order and headed back to Daphne’s to get Cassie’s flowers. Her order was easy: six bunches of Santa Barbara Daisies, some filler, and some spray roses. Except for the sprays, we had them all on hand. And the sprays were so easy Daphne did them while I was gone. I quickly wrapped them up, thinking about the girl’s hair clip. The way it glowed was impossibly delicate, and the golden light seemed to contrast her hair beautif-

“What’s the smile for?” Daphne asked, cutting some roses for display.

“What? Nothing. Nice day.” I took off out the door before she could accuse me of another blatant mistruth, nearly smacking into the doorframe in my haste.

I arrived at Cassie’s right on time at 8am. I slid the carrier off my back, taking out the packages of flowers and setting them on the counter. I looked around the cafe, casually. Or almost casually. I leaned on the high counter lining the pickup bar, hoping and not hoping that I could get out of here quick.

“Can I help you?”

I jumped and spun around to the bar. Unfortunately, given spatial relations and Murphy’s law, my hip jammed itself directly into the corner of the bar. I yelped and clutched my hip. “Fuck!”

“Oh my god! Are you alright?” I looked up through squinted eyes and almost swore again. Of course it would be her.

“Uh, oh, yeah, just fine.” I stood slowly and leaned on the bar again, a little more heavily this time. “I’m just delivering the flowers.”

She stared at me for a second, then realized the packages were in front of her. “Oh! They’re lovely!” She had a nice voice. European, maybe Spanish?

“Oh excellent” Cassie emerged from the back room, carrying a stack of boxes. The top one began to slip, and the girl ran over and took it from her. “Ah, thank you Llana dear.”

Llana.

I realized I was staring. I busied myself unwrapping the flowers, and signing the invoice. Cassie winked at me; I was sure she knew why I was so nervous. I coughed a goodbye and somewhat limped my way out the door.

Her name was Llana.

This routine happened every day for a week. I can’t say I was feeling any more positive, but at least my hip didn’t suffer anymore. I was absolutely terrified to say anything more than “Morning” to Llana. But at least I had something nice to think about.

One morning, I woke up with my alarm but laid there for a few minutes. The morning was very quiet, with sounds of a barely stirring city. For some reason, it was a little easier to get up that day, it was easier to look in the mirror, it was easier to run. It was easier to look in the mirror, and the shop windows blurring past, and see Mama’s face in my reflection. And it was easier to walk into Cassie’s and say,

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Llana replied, handing me the teas Cassie had already made. “I’m glad it’s a good one today.” I knitted my eyebrows. “You usually just say ‘morning.’ Today you said good morning.”

I opened my mouth, but my brain hadn’t decided what was going to come out. It was too slow, apparently, because instead of “thank you” or “You’re the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen upon this hellscape of an earth,” what I said was “You too!”

We stared at each other for a moment as the steam rose from the tea in my hands, and my brain finally caught up. When it did, it suddenly decided, wow, this is the worst thing you’ve pretty much ever done. I decided the best course of action was to spin around, nearly slinging tea all over myself, and leave IMMEDIATELY.

“You too?!” I berated myself as I strode with rage down the street. “What the fuck.” I was irrationally angry, and I know it wasn’t really about “You too.” It had been such a good morning. All I’d had to do was go with it and be a functioning human.

Daphne looked up as I stomped in. I practically threw her tea to her and slammed mine on the desk. She leapt up and grabbed my shoulders. “Oh no, we are taking this bad energy OUT.” She pushed me back out the door and onto the promenade. “What is up with you, girl? You’re spacey, then I can barely get you to talk to me, then you’re happy for a hot second before you come blazin in here with the fury of a thousand suns. Now, I don’t care if I make every order and customer we have today late, you are gonna tell me what the hell is going on.” She folded her arms, and stood as though I was going to charge her.

I glared at her, my hands shoved deep in my pockets and screwing up my mouth. I didn’t want to admit that I was angry over something so stupid, even though I knew it wasn’t just that. I didn’t want to say that I felt like I’d messed up a good day. I didn’t want to say that I’d messed up the last year of my life. I didn’t want to talk about stuff that hurt. But Daphne glared right back.

“I like this girl who works at Cassie’s, okay? And I fucked up talking to her this morning. And I hate waking up and thinking its going to be a good day and then I fuck it up. And I feel like I can’t do anything right and I’m always on autopilot, and I was to actually choose how something goes but I guess fucking not and I just wish I had-” I stopped. My throat tightened. Daphne had one hand on her cheek, her eyes gently gazing at me. “I wish I had Mama,” I choked out. I squeezed my eyes shut and shoved the heels of my hands against them.

“Oh honey.” I felt Daphne wrap her arms around me. “Oh honey.”

Do you ever think you can hold it together as long as someone else doesn’t actually show you any emotion back? Like if they just stand there silently, you can pull it back and be fine and not completely dissolve? The moment Daphne got hold of me, I burst into tears. I cried for a few minutes. It felt good. It felt like I was opening the tattered box in the attic of my mind and letting the bad stuff out for a walk. Daphne rubbed my back. She didn’t say anything else, just let me cry.

I finally caught my breath and pulled away. “Jesus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” I hiccuped a few times.

“Why are you apologizing?” Daphne asked. “It’s okay to cry, and it’s okay to feel, especially if you’re angry. But I can’t tell if you’re more afraid of crying or of feeling, girl.”

In the back of my internet brain, I knew that was a Quotable Moment™. I often wondered if Daphne had some seer in her, Like Cassie. But in any case, I took a deep breath, and followed her back inside.

Usually, after work, I get home around 5. I go water my plants, toss a meal into the microwave, and slump on the couch with a hyperfixational book or show. Maybe some grocery shopping or stopping in for a drink somewhere. After Mama died, I stopped seeing friends and going to parties. I think they were relieved, honestly. How do you invite the girl whose mother just died to anything fun? With sudden free time and almost no relationships outside of Daphne and Cassie, I went dark. I packed up the house, packed all Mama’s stuff in boxes, sold the furniture and moved away. Mama was the nymph in the family, my dad was human. His family was some rich snobby family who refused to acknowledge the “stain on the family name,” or so they said in their letter back from the funeral announcement. No support from them, then. Daphne let me keep my job and paid me more, now that there were only two of us. I found my apartment, but it’s just one room that’s mine. So I put what I had of Mama into storage, shoving all my memories into that attic.

But tonight, after I got home from work, I didn’t sit down or water my plants. I paced for a while, holding my phone in one hand and tapping the other against my leg. I don’t know whether you’re more afraid of crying or of feeling, I heard over and over again. I flipped my phone over a few times, staring out the window. Yeah. Okay. I took a long breath.

I called the storage company, and then an Uber. I grabbed a jacket, brushed dirt off my jeans, and jumped into the backseat of my White Corolla ride. The nice diver, about my age, was a human girl. She was very chatty, playing the local pop station. I tipped her as much as I could and walked very quickly to my container.

I hadn’t had much to store. They gave me a small one, more like a shed, near the front. It was cheap, as units go, so they told me. I flipped through my keys for the one to the padlock, the wind starting to kick up, whipping the dust off the gravel. I fumbled with the lock for a few minutes before suddenly realizing I was trying to use my apartment key. After a moment of reflection, I managed to get in. I was strangely nervous, as though I was meeting someone else’s mother.

I looked around. It was mostly her clothes and jewellery packed in vacuum bags (As Seen on TV!) and wrapped in fabric. My mama had this love of bangles; one whole box was dedicated to them. I never wore any, they were too hard to keep on, but Mama wore four on each arm, all the same set. She’d loved t-shirts, too. Every concert, every school either of us went to, she would get a new one. I opened the box on top. It was filled with vacuum bags - sweaters. I dug through boxes until I found the packs I was looking for; her oldest, favorite shirts, older than me, so long in her closet she’d forgotten where she’d gotten them. A black long sleeve with glittery thread woven throughout. An a bright yellow halter with a daisy pattern. A faded baseball tee with dark green edging. And the one I loved most, a green t-shirt with a velvet star in the center of the chest, about the size of my hand. I held it for a moment, then grabbed the whole bag and shoved it in my knapsack. I closed the box back up and looked at the shelves.

Up to there were plastic containers of cards and pictures. I reached up, barely able to slide them off with my fingertips. One held all the cards I’d gotten from her and vice versa over the years. The other held all the photo albums and loose pictures from frames. As I reached for it, I saw the picture pressed against the edge.

It was of Mama and I, taken with Daphne’s old film camera. We’re laughing, arms around each other, and Mama is wearing her star shirt. It was my 18th birthday, right before I went to college. I don’t know what made us laugh or what was happening, but it was Mama through and through.

For a moment, I hesitated. I could put it back, put it all back. I could lock up and go home and go to sleep, forget and just ignore. Ignoring was better than remembering, right?

“I don’t know whether you’re more afraid of crying or of feeling, girl.”

I locked up and called another rideshare. A large car this time, enough for a few boxes and a large backpack, and my decisions.

The next day, I dragged myself to work. I hadn’t slept at all. My hair was untenable, my eyes were puffy. But underneath my jacket, I had on that baseball tee. I changed my phone screen to that picture. Baby steps, I told myself. And baby steps felt okay.

I stopped at Cassie’s. Cassie herself wasn’t there, just Llana. She looked up as I came in. She raised an eyebrow in askance.

“Good morning,” I answered.

She smiled. “Good morning. The usual?”

“Yes please.”

That was all. And that felt okay too.

I walked to the flower shop, where Daphne had the heater on. I took off my jacket, and called to the back to let Daphne know I was there. I tucked my shirt into my jeans and reached for my apron. There was a small gasp from behind me.

Daphne stood in front of the office door, her eyes the size of dinner plates. She blinked a few times, and gave a shaky laugh. “My lord, girl, you look just like your mama.”

“I know,” I said, giving her an equally unsteady smile. I told her about going to the storage room as we started work. I told her how I’d gone home and the vampire roommate had helped me carry my boxes up the stairs, and offered to make me some coffee. I told her how I’d actually made myself a real drink and after politely thanking him but refusing, and looked through everything I’d brought home. I showed her the picture on my phone and told her I saved some cards. Daphne was smiling so big I was afraid she was stuck.

“This doesn’t mean I’m like, magically better, you know.” I warned her. “It’s a step, and there’s a whole mile of steps ahead of me.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, still grinning like a cat. “But you took a step, and that’s big, hon.”

I nodded, and we moved on.

The next week or so passed, and nothing changed. I didn’t go back to the storage room, but I made sure to bring out the things I’d already gotten. I put up the pictures on my wall, and the albums on my bookshelf. The shirts went in my dresser. I looked at one card every day; I was a Valentine’s Day one. Mama and I had our own tradition. We would get each other coffee and a bag of mystery chocolates, then come home and watch bad romcoms and eat it all. Mama had written in the card, “There is a lot to love in this beautiful world, but you are the most beautiful, and the most loved. I love you big, Mama.” Love you big was our thing. It was on every card, every night before bed, before every hangup. I looked at this card every day, and I started to get an idea.

In the meantime, I started talking to Llana more. She was from Spain, and she was, in fact, not human. She avoided the specifics, though, and I didn’t push it. She, in turn, asked more about me, always gauging a Morning from a Good Morning first. On the Mornings, I like to think my tea tasted just a little sweeter than normal. Not too much, but noticeable. But maybe it was psychosomatic. In any case, she always smiled at me through the window and I always nearly collided with something in front of me. I nearly dropped my cup when she laughed at a bad joke I made. Her hair clip, beautifully shining, bathed her face in a warm glow. I began to notice that even when the lights in the coffee shop were dim, and the sky was dark and cloudy, it still glowed and shimmered. It was too bright to be reflecting anything.

The next week, I went back to the storage room. I got some of Mama’s sweaters, and her old books. Curled up in an enormous sherpa jacket at home, I read through as many mythology books as I could. Nothing in any of them mentioned anything like Llana. I did steer clear of Greek though. I knew all about that anyway.

The weather, while in springtime, suddenly took a chill. I found myself wearing the sherpa to work one morning, over the lucky star shirt. I had been up most of the night, turning over the same idea from a week or two ago. I’d been putting the pieces together.

I got to Cassie’s as usual, and Llana smiled as I came in. “Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning! The usual?”

“Actually,” I said, “could I get an extra shot of courage in mine?”

“Courage?” She asked, measuring tea leaves. “Sure, what for?” She slapped a hand to her mouth. “Shit, sorry, that’s inappropriate to ask.”

“No, it’s okay,” I mumbled into my collar. “I’m taking a baby step today, but it’s actually maybe a big step? Like, it’s a good thing, but...but I gotta make sure I can get myself there, y’know?”

Llana gazed at me for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, one Oolong with a shot of focus and a shot of courage, and one chai with a shot of calm.” She dropped in the strainers and turned back to me. She leaned on the counter, and her fingers kept touching her thumb in a pattern. Nervous habit. “So,” she said, “Cassie says you’re a nymph. So you have a specialty?”

“Yeah, I’m an anthousia. Specifically flowers. That’s why I work at Daphne’s.”

“I would love to do that.” She sighed.

I smiled at her, glancing around. “What’s your favorite flower? Magic or not?”

“Hmmm. What’s that golden one? It floats, kind of looks like a bell? It’s magical, obviously.”

I almost choked on my own spit. “Sun Lanterns?”

Her face lit up. “Yes!”

I shook my head a little at the odds, then held up my hand, palm up. A sun lantern seemed to grow from my skin, twisting into being from the light around me. Llana watched with huge eyes as the little flower rose up to her eye line. I smiled at her astounded expression. She looked like she might take a step back when I held it out to her.

“Really?” She asked quietly. I nodded. She tentatively reached out across the counter and the sun lantern floated into her hand. She held it close to her face, letting out a small laugh. She sounded thrilled.

“Here.” I reached out, and touched the bloom, closing my eyes. “There, now it’ll dooooo…..that.” The lantern had floated up to rest just behind her ear, as though it were pinned in her hair.

“No way!”She ran to the other side of the bar, the length of the room. The sun lantern whizzed along with her, keeping its place. She laughed again. God, I could listen to that sound till the end of days. She looked so happy, I could feel her enthusiasm reflected in me, , and I began to feel lighter, like I would really be fully-

What, had she said something? “Ah, what?”

“I said, I think your teas are done,” she said, pointing to them on the bar.

“Oh, right.” I shook myself. Grabbing the cups, I went to leave, but suddenly, just at the door, I turned back. Llana was holding the sun lantern in her hands again, gazing at it with something like...well, a really good something.

“Hey Llana?” I asked before my brain engaged. She looked up, her face lit equally by the sun lantern and her clip. “Do you want to meet me for a drink tonight? Or a bite to eat?” I was grateful that I managed to ask with a surprising amount of composure, though admittedly at an octave higher than normal.

She didn’t move for a moment. I began to panic. But then, the most amazing thing happened.

She burst into a smile as though she was made of sunshine. She looked as though she’d been given a drink of water after a drought, finally free of uncertainty.

“Yes, oh my god I would love-” She stopped short and coughed. “I mean, yes, I’d like that. Does 6:00 work okay?”

“6 is just fine. Meet you here?” 6pm had never seemed like a better time of day.

“Okay.” She raised her hand in a wave. I gestured with a cup, backing into the door a bit too hard. Half winded, I made my way to Daphne’s in a daze.

Daphne told me the order for the day as I came in, which I barely retained. I concentrated on all the flowers (we had a wedding tomorrow, but we were dropping them off tonight, mercifully) a concoction of lilies, baby’s breath, and forget-me-nots. The bride had been very gracious and accommodating, but the mother was a nightmare. She was adamant that there be ABSOLUTELY NO MAGIC in her baby’s flowers. Some humans were wary of anything magical. A few thought magic was “dirty,” some just didn’t want to pay for the extra labor. The majority of the sticklers just wanted “normal” flowers because it was more....familiar, I guess? These humans were always very courteous and nice. This Mother of the Bride was not one of these humans. Luckily Daphne had a very thorough contract.

I took my time. All these flowers were very delicate, and took a lot of care to get just right. It was easy to overgrow them. You could shoot right past “tomorrow is peak bloom” and straight into “honey the flowers are made of fruit flies” if you weren’t very careful. Daphne made calls all day in the office. We were hitting peak wedding planning season for the end of summer through fall. She was constantly on the phone with brides, planners, and venues. I was set to deliver the flowers at four, and head home from there.

We took lunch at 11:00, and as we ate in silence I turned my question over in my mind. I could feel myself overthinking how to ask it, so when Daphne finished her salad and leaned back in her chair, I just blurted it out.

“I’m going to get a tattoo.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “A tattoo?”

I jerkily nodded.

“What happened to baby steps?”

“Honestly, this feels like a baby step. Well, maybe a little bigger than a baby step, but not a real big one. It feels...good. Natural.” I rubbed my palm with a thumb.

Daphne laced her fingers over her stomach and tilted her face to the ceiling. She was quiet. I picked at the last of my lunch. I told myself she would be the best judge of my actions, and tried to wait patiently.

After the longest 30 seconds of recent history, she finally looked back at me. “Well, it seems like a big step to me, but I’m not you. If you think it’s right, and you’re sure, then it’s right.”

I let out my breath. “Thanks, Daphne.”

“At least you’re sensible. Unlike this client! Lilies?! Half her daughter’s guests will be sneezing their eyes out! And no magic? The day before?!” She shook her head. “When you get married, girl, you better keep a sane head on your shoulders.”

“Alright, who’s taking big steps now?”

I stepped into the Cat’s Cradle, the nearest magical tattoo shop. The walls were covered in pictures of their art and clients. A cat trotted out from behind a desk, meowing assertively.

“Cleo!” A woman called, running out from a closet at the back. She was small, but her muscle tone when she picked up the cat indicated she was deceptively strong. She had a young, confident face framed by a beautifully simple hijab. “Sorry, she got out of the office.”

“It’s okay.” I held out a hand for Cleo to inspect. She gave me a sniff and a small lick

“My name is Soñia,” the woman said, depositing Cleo behind the front desk and firing up the computer. “Cleo’s a comfort cat, she helps calm our clients. Walk in or appointment?”

“Um, walk in.”

“Alright, we could fit you in in about half an hour, around 4:45. Do you need to look at a design binder?” Her tone was brisk, but not impolite.

“Actually do you guys do handwriting?”

She frowned a little. “We can do both magical and non-magical handwriting, but I have to warn you that we cannot guarantee that there will be a perfectly identical match-

“How close can you get?” I cut in.

Her frown disappeared. “Damn close.”

“Good enough for me.” I pulled out the Valentines card, pointing at the line. “How about this, magically?”

Soñia waved her hand and made a pfft noise. “Simple. The same size as the card?” I nodded. “It will take an hour, possibly an hour and fifteen for the magical freeze to set. We freeze the magic so that your skin can heal. It will activate in a day or two.”

I confirmed I’d be back in half an hour and went to get a snack. It was overcast out, but it wasn’t supposed to rain until tomorrow. I sat on a bench, eating my power bar, contemplating. What a day. I did not have these kinds of days. These kinds of days happened to other people.

“Stop it.” I said to myself. “It’s just a day. Let yourself have a day.”

I got back to Cat’s Cradle at 4:45 on the dot. Soñia was rolling up a prayer mat. “Perfect timing,” she said, leaning the mat against a corner and rubbing her hands together. She picked up a stencil that was somewhat glowing. “Shall we?”

I’ll spare the details, as I didn’t watch most of it. I’ve never been a huge fan of needles, so I focused on petting Cleo. An hour and nine minutes later, I was bandaged up, part of the inside of my forearm unsettlingly numb. We’d taken an old style Polaroid of it, and I paid Soñia (with a hefty tip, because her confidence had paid off).

“It’s beautiful handwriting,” she said, printing my receipt.

“Yes,” I said, half smiling, “It was my mother’s.”

Soñia nodded, handed me my receipt, and I left. My arm around the numb part ached, but the bandage was lighter than I had thought. I still had maybe 40 minutes to get home and ready. For my date. With Llana. I almost laughed. “Wow,” I said, as I broke into a jog, “Wow.”

We met casually outside Cassie’s at about 7:01 and 29 seconds (vaguely). Llana had a pretty red peacoat on, and dark jeans and sneakers. My heart seemed to expand when I saw the sun lantern I suddenly felt underdressed somehow, even though Mama’s sparkly long sleeve and high waist green corduroys were perfectly matching the look. A confident, cool outfit. I was desperately hoping it worked.

We went to a small bistro down the street. Luck was with us, and we were shown to a table in front of the window. Our server was a nice guy, took our coffee and tea orders and bustled off.

“So,” I said as the espresso machine blasted, “How long have you worked at Cassie’s?”

“About 3 months ago. I started with closing shifts, but I’m more of a morning person, She drank some of her water, looking at me closely over the rim. I noticed her hair clip was silver now, still strongly lit. “I like it here. This city is so…” she gestured widely, “Open? That’s not right. I can breathe here.”

“I know what you mean.” I glanced down at the table, tracing the line of the napkin with my finger. “It seems like it’s built to be comforting.”

“Yes!” She pointed at me. “Precisely. I used to live in New York, in Manhattan. If you breathe there, you get like 5 years of second-hand smoke and carbon emissions.” I laughed. “Are you from here?”

I nodded. “Yeah, born and raised. My mama was from LA, but I’ve been here my whole life. Daphne and my mom were old friends, so she gave me a job. Besides, growing flowers is easy for an anthousia.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Llana said this in a way that seemed touchingly interested, not concerned or condescending.

I thought for a moment. “You know, I don't really know. I went to school for web design, but I haven’t taken it anywhere since-” Don’t drop the dead-mother bombshell on the first date - “since I graduated. But working at Daphne’s is peaceful, and it pays well.”

“Web design is complicated, yes? Computer code and all that?”

“It is. It’s absolutely maddening. But when you get it to work and look just right…” I shrugged. “So satisfying.”

She leaned her chin on the heel of her hand, drumming her fingertips on her cheek. “I never went to college. What is it like?”

For the next half hour I explained everything: semester versus quarter systems, dorm life, majors and minors, all of it. I told her I shared a room with three other girls and she wrinkled her nose. “That sounds so cramped!”

“It was, but we all got along, more or less. Can I ask why you didn’t go?”

She waved her other hand dismissively. “Oh, the village school would never have given us college as an option. We were in the middle of nowhere, many families had been there since before Isabella and Ferdinand. We made our living off the land. And my family in particular wanted nothing to do with the outside world.”

“Village? Not New York?”

“I grew up in Spain, the region of Asturias . I probably should have said that,” she said, rubbing her neck. “Sorry. I’m kind of nervous.”

“Don’t worry; me too.” I smiled and held out my hand. She smiled back and tentatively took it. Her hand was warm. “You don’t have to go into it, if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you.” She breathed out audibly, as though she had been holding her breath. Her hair clip seemed to get brighter. “What were you thinking of ordering?”

“Hmmm,” I hummed, casually glancing over the menu as though my stomach wasn’t eating itself.

I found I liked to learn things about her. I liked her explaining something while showing parts of herself. I learned she held her coffee cup (by the handle, not the body) in one hand while gesticulating with the other. I learned she liked bacon in her potato soup, and that she treated waitstaff with the utmost respect when she said thank you at least three times. I learned she loved portraiture, because her eyes crinkled from her slight smile when she talked about it.

The whole evening was nice. She asked if we could split the bill, and that was perfect to me. We paid and she finished her water and we got up to leave.

“I can walk you home if you like,” I said as we stood outside and she buttoned her coat.

She smiled. “I would like.” Her eyebrows knit together for a moment. “I’m trying to think of a smooth way to ask to hold your and again.”

Oh my god. “It’s all yours,” I said, offering it. She grinned so big I wanted to laugh.

She lived just outside downtown, on the opposite end from me. We walked for about 5 minutes, looking into shops on our way. As we turned left off of the big street, I finally had the nerve to say, “Your hair clip is really beautiful.”

“Mmm,” she said. She was quiet for a minute. I was on the verge of apologising for bringing it up when she sighed. “Thank you. I don’t mean to be rude. I suppose you ought to know.”

Now my eyebrows were the ones knitting. “Know what?”

“Well, I don’t usually tell people what kind of being I am, because there are a lot of people who...who would rather we didn’t exist at all. People who listen to rumors with their eyes closed.” Her eyes were fixed on the sidewalk.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a Xanas.” She said this as though flinging the word from around a barricade.

I blinked. “I...I don’t know what a Xanas is.”

Llana jerked her face up to look at me. “Really?” I shook my head. Relief flooded her face. “A Xanas is Asturian magic. We’re all women, all blonde, and we manipulate fortune. There are ugly stories of us throughout the ages. Switching human babies with our own changelings, stealing money, seducing men to their deaths, killing human women in our way. In Spain, we are persecuted. My village is one of the only safe places left. We are deeply tied to the land, so many of us will never leave. But all we do is manipulate luck and fortune, and make things beautiful: art, nature, ourselves.”

I turned this information over in my mind. I knew that story, my father’s actions had told it to me a thousand times. I squeezed Llana’s hand. “I don’t put much stock in rumors, and my eyes are wide open. Besides, stealing a child? In this economy?” She laughed, and I was proud. “But what about the hair clip?”

“Oh, right. All Xanas have them. They’re made of sunlight and moonlight.”

“Can I?”

She tilted her head. I waved my hand, my fingers passing through the beams. They danced and flickered against my skin. “Incredible,” I whispered.

“Thank you,” she whispered back.

We’d made it to her street, and arrived at her house. It was a small brick townhouse, with red stairs, a small porch, and a white door. I must have looked surprised, because Llana grinned mischievously at me. “A Xanas does have a way of running into good fortune. An eccentric aunt of mine left Spain when I was ten. She owned this house, and passed away right before I turned 18. She left it to me in her will. We were always close. It’s why I moved here.”

“Damn,” I said. “I’ve just got an apartment!”

We looked at each other for a moment. “It was really lovely,” she said as I blurted out, “I had a great time.” We laughed nervously, and she squeezed my hand.

“Can we do this again?” She asked.

“I’d love that.” I’d almost never wanted anything more.

“Tomorrow! Here. I’ll cook.”

I was smiling so hard my face was sore. “Tomorrow is perfect.”

She ran up the stairs with a sudden burst of nervous energy, and I turned and walked back towards downtown, and home. But just as I reached the end of the block, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see Llana running up, skidding to atop in front of me.

“One more thing,” she said breathlessly, and suddenly we were kissing, and everything was alright. Everything was cool and calm, and for one moment, I forgot everything in the world except this. Except Llana. And when we broke apart, and everything began again, I found it was brighter, and more valuable, just for having Llana in it.

Nothing is ever more jolting than your alarm going off during REM sleep. I would’ve flown upright, had my arm not been securely trapped under a sleeping girl. I gazed at her sleepily for a minute, soaking in her light.

It had been two years since that kiss. I still worked for Daphne (hence the alarm), but with her and Llana’s help I had also secured an internship as a local web design company. Llana was taking fine arts classes at a studio. We were busy and exhausted. We were so happy.

I carefully shifted Llana off my arm, grabbing a sweater as I eased the door open. I’d moved in with Llana six months ago, and now I boiled my tea in a decent kitchen and drank it in front of beautiful windows. I’d had the picture of Mama and I framed, and it sat on the end table of the couch. Llana loved that picture. I’d told her about Mama on our second date, and about how I was (not) coping. Llana asked gentle questions, and held my hand. And when I went to the burial plot on Mama’s birthday, I found bright yellow flowers and a note - “To Delphi, from Llana. Thank you.” I cried my heart out for an hour.

Now I leaned against the window frame, whispering to the picture. “I know you’re watching, Mama. You love her, I hope. Maybe you do, somewhere, where you are. I hope you’re proud.” I paused, thinking of the little box hidden in my sock drawer. “It’s two years, today. I got it all worked out. Simple, though, I’m not overthinking. Daphne keeps teasing me about baby steps.” I looked at my face, happy in a black past, and now. “I miss you, Mama. I love you big.”

I looked quickly down at my tattoo, Mama’s scrawl appeared, writing out, “I love you big, Mama,” the ‘big’ underlined for just a moment. It only happened once in a while. Soñia had explained to me that sometimes, a person’s magic can influence a tattoo of them. I smiled, Mama heard me, somewhere, and she was happy.

I heard shuffling behind me. Llana came out of our room, clutching her favorite blanket around her. Her hair was a mess, but as the early morning light fell on it, it began to straighten and unknot. She was so beautiful in the early, foggy light. Any light.

“Hey, you,” I said, holding out my arms. Llana shuffled into them, snuggling against my shoulder. “Good morning.”

She smiled up at me, eyes half closed, and my stomach swooped. I thought again of that little box, and the ring inside, and was more decided than ever. I wanted to get coffee after work with her every afternoon and hear about her class. I wanted to make her breakfast and dinner, and sun lanterns every day. I wanted to wake up every morning for the rest of my life to hear her say;

“Good morning, Joy.”

Buy me a coffee at https://ko-fi.com/badgerpride

-–

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#writing #short story #badger scribbles #i swear when i had this idea it was short #I'm so tired plz help #magic

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