#i had about a dozen books like this for fairies. and they all slapped

[livvyofthelake]

it is of the upmost importance that children have a collection of fun little fantasy picture books written in the style of a field guide or manual.

[aquillis-main]

(template by @deepseapotato)

This is most of my project -- Me working on my own fan-digimon the past few days, all but one of them Aquatic Digimon!

It’s honestly kind of strange that there’s not a lot of information on water fairies, besides a few that I had found on Wikipedia. I feel like water fairies should be just as dime a dozen as forest fairies, but at least there’s enough for me to make an entire Digimon line out of them.

Anyways, all the names and why I picked them:

Tsurumon = depending on the kanji, can either mean ‘rough’ or ‘smooth’. Tsurumon lives in this paradox of being both rough to the touch, yet also as soft as all Baby I/Baby Digimon are.

Guppimon = Basically taking the name of a real species of fish and slapping it onto a shark Digimon. It’s about as strong as an actual guppy.

Niximon = named after a shapeshifting water spirit called a Nixie. Thought it would be nice to reference by having the body look alien.

Nereimon = named after the Nereids, a class of nymphs that attend Posiden’s court. They all come from the Old Man of the Sea, Neres. They are stated to have red coral as their little wreath thingies, so I thought it would be neat to make the Digimon’s body basically red coral.

Undinimon = based off of the Undine, the alchemist’s representation of the element water. I wanted to keep the gentleness of the original, but also portray the more well-known monster from Undertale, Undyne (though I tend to pronounce their names differently - Undeen, Undine - in my head). I used the Zebra Turkeyfish as a base, as I thought it would be neat to have a Digimon that was reddish-coloured.

Harkermon = Took the name of a character from the original Novel that Dracula comes from - Mina Harker Nee Murray, the female lead whom ends up married to Johnathan Harker once the events of the book are over. She nearly ends up as another thrall of Dracula’s like her best friend, but the timely intervention of her fiance and their group (which includes Aberham Van Hellsing) makes her gain the ability to track Dracula once the latter flees from the others. I always thought it would be neat to have a group of vampire-hunting digimon since vampire digimon are surprisingly common in the Digital World.

[visual-explorxtion]

A Date With Rebecca [Rebecca Chambers x Reader] - One Shot

Summary: Taking your favourite girl on a date. Go see her favourite movie, have a candlelit dinner, take a short stroll. What more can you ask for?

A/N: Looking for some wholesome Rebecca content? Then you’ve come to the right place. Originally, I’ve planned to make this 1.5k words or less but somehow I kept adding more and more details to the story. Is it a fluff fic? Yes. Is it filled with cliché plots? Also, yes. Sometimes, cliché stuff are pretty wholesome. Bonus content if you read the whole fic ;)

Word Count: 2.7K

Hairstyle? Check. Outfit? Check. Time? You peered up from your full-length mirror and glanced at the analogue clock on the wall. The ticking dish points to 6:15 pm. Perfect, you still got time before picking up your lovely date, Rebecca. You've planned a surprise date night for her for weeks now. Only up until recently, she finally agreed and cleared up her schedule. Joy would be an understatement to describe how you are feeling right now, nevertheless, joy is the only thing that's coursing through your body. Ping! The screen of your phone illuminated in blue, revealing a text sent by your date.

'Hey! I'm on my way to our meet up point. I'll see you in 10 minutes x :)'

The message made your heart melt into a pool of jello, she even left a little kiss and a smiley face at the end. This made you even more excited to meet her, the sooner the better. With no time to lose, you grab your old-fashion helmet from the console table, reviewing yourself one last time before exiting the apartment. Keys to your scooter in your fist, you stick it in the ignition and the little yellow hunk of junk sputter to life. You smile to yourself and pray that your only transportation doesn't fail on you tonight. Index finger double tapping on the oil gauge disk displaying petrol 3/4 of the way full, tucking your hair neatly inside the helmet then you set off.

Round the corner and through the bustling streets of downtown, you parked your bike just a couple of shops down from where you're meeting Rebecca. Every step you take seems like you're walking on air, the bounce in your steps lights up every way of your path, leading you right to her. There, she stands under the fairy lights- strung from one side of the patio to the other wrapping around the redwood columns- waiting for your arrival just outside of her favourite cafe, 'Dans le bleu'. From the moment she saw you, her sweet smile has taken over her perfectly shaped face and time slows down around you as you take in the impression of her. Her hair twinkles under the warm white glow, eyes crinkled as she beams; draped in a celadon green vintage flare dress, fitted waistband hugging against her slender waist, she is your angel at heart even if she denies it.

"Hey, you look beautiful tonight." you resist the urge to pull her into your arms even with the whole world watching.

"You don't look so bad yourself. Did you style your hair? It looks great." she praised. "Should we go to eat? I think Bleu just flipped to their bar menu and I'm kinda craving pasta right now."

"Actually...I have something else planned. It's only 6:30 and I think it's still kinda early for dinner, so I have something else planned instead." you smiled mischievously.

"Oh no. What deathly things have you got planned for me." Rebecca's face drained as you chuckled at her expression.

"I'm not telling you, it's a surprise." you flashed a smug grin. "Come on, we'll be late." You grabbed her hand and tangle your fingers with hers. The warmth of her palm radiates onto yours and you can feel the nervousness and sweat running through with each beat of her pulse. But all of that did not bother you. You held her hand tighter even with the sweat binding both hands, you love her too much that you just accept every part of her.

After 15 minutes of waltzing through the artificially lit avenue, you and Rebecca both arrived at an inconspicuous movie theatre. "The cinema? But it doesn't even look like it’s in business." Rebecca frown.

The cinema looks a little out of place compared to the rest of the street. The creamy white façade has witnessed the testimony of time and history, all cracked and shedding off little pieces. But, the neon sign still glows ominously in the shade of red, the building itself it's illuminated with a standalone rustic street lamp and a retro letterbox that's yellowing with age, only one film is showing in bold letters.

"...Roman Holiday? Oh my gosh! D-did you do this?" she's dying to know as curiosity shimmers from her eyes.

"I have my ways." you winked and she playfully slaps your arm to return the gesture.

Upon entering the building, the scenery was so drastically different that you'd almost thought you stepped back in time. Or walked into a Wes Anderson movie set. Your feet landed on the carpet that was once plush and fluffy, vermillion red and sunset orange shades of intricate patterns stretched across the main entrance. The ticket booth stands in the centre of the hall with a two-tier crystal chandelier hanging above on the high rise ceiling. The leather lounge chairs face one another on either side, beige wrinkles and creases etched onto the chestnut seats with time. The pair of you gradually take in the scenery but was soon greeted by the sweet and savoury scent of popcorn. Rebecca's eye lit up with delight.

"Wait here, I'll get us popcorn." Swiftly, you turned and Rebecca's gaze follows. She watches intently as you carry two bags full of popcorn from the kiosk. Her eyes widened in bewilderment. "I didn't know which one you want so I got both." you shrug as she shakes her head in disbelief.

"The film's about to start. Let's go."

You and Rebecca found your seats with ease, considering the fact that only a dozen of people are here for this movie, scattered across the theatre in various age groups, even though you'd thought about having this screening just for the two of you instead. The lights went dim, shading your eyes in pitch blackness, then the screen comes on. The unfamiliar brightness made you squint your eyes as you shield them and blinked several times to get used to the luminosity. Actors appear in black and white, the deliverance of dialogues flows through the auditorium but not to your ears. Your eyes admire Rebecca as she’s fixated on the film. Adoration and excitement glisten in her soul, just like stars, watching this film as if it's the first time. As the story continues to play, the protagonists tour the city of Rome on a scruffy moped, her arms around his waist, riding away in this romantic getaway. You held Rebecca's hand laying on the velvet armrest, a little shock sent up her arm and she looked at your conjoined hands then up to your rosy gaze. Someday, you'd hope to take her to Rome, under the ray of the summer sun, riding on the same vintage moped and reenact the same scene in front of our very own eyes.

"That was such a good film! I haven't had this much fun in so long, I almost forgot what it feels like." she giggles. "I bet I'm going to have a sweet dream tonight."

"You'd think our date ends here? Just after one movie?" you blinked. "Honey, I'm taking you out on a date, not a movie night. We can go anywhere and do anything you want, just say the word."

Rebecca paused. "Anything?"

"Anything," you answered.

Her stomach grumbles and she laughs. "I think the first thing I want is dinner."

You chuckled along. "I think so too. You said you want pasta, right? I know just the place."

Leaving the cinema with the night claiming the light, Rebecca's hand hasn't left yours since halfway through the film, nor does she have the intention to. Everything just felt natural, like puzzle pieces falling in the right place. As you lead the way, a darkened cobbled street came into view as both of you turn a corner, Rebecca couldn't shake off the feeling of uneasiness.

"A-are you sure this is the right way?" she stammers.

"Trust me. I am 100% sure," you reassure her.

"B-but what if-"

"Ah, we're here!" you voice made Rebecca jolt.

She peeked out from behind your right shoulder, quizzical by what she's seeing whilst tugging on your sleeve, she asked, "A hole in the wall? That was a bit anticlimactic..." a hint of disappointment seeps through.

"Dear, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. I thought you taught me that." you tease. Her face pouts but you still find her cute no matter what.

You push the wooden front door which made a stifling groan. Inside, the little restaurant is rustic and oddly homey. Photographs hung on the wall, from monotones transitioning to technicolour, each photograph tells its own story and heartfelt emotions behind it. Your eyes scan each decoration as you move further into the place, bits and pieces collected from around the world and written messages left by visiting customers. The reserved table is located in a less crowded area behind a half wall, just overlooking the rest of the room, an ambience mood under the candlelit atmosphere. Quiet chit-chats and conversions turn to waves of laughter, feeling content in each other's company as dinner went by in a flash. Spending time with Rebecca is every second well spent.

"I hope you still got room for dessert."

"I think you're underestimating my stomach's capacity." she returns the jab.

Flipping between pages, indecisive, Rebecca bites her bottom lip as her finger scans through the list of desserts, unawarely emitting soft 'umm's and 'eh's from her lips, tinted with a glossy shade of chilli red. Trying hard not to laugh at her child-like indecisiveness caused by this inconvenience, to which her brows begun knitting together bit by bit, the corner of your lips can't help but slowly crawled upwards. All the dessert dilemma ended with her favourite, Baked Alaska. The snowy white miniature mountain engulfed in a sea of blue flames, it's a form of entertainment in the shape of a dessert. You and Rebecca filled your stomachs to the brim with food, thus, this concludes the dinner segment you have planned for her.

The touch of the summer breeze caressed your face under the starry night, footsteps in sync with one another as the night winds down with a stroll into empty, midnight street. Silence flows through the air, except for the distant sound of traffic and Rebecca's angelic voice. Shop windows reflect the pair of you, illuminated by neon lights, you wish this moment could last forever. Music could be heard from afar which prompted the curiosity within Rebecca as she ran ahead to listen to the tune more clearly. The playing tune came from a speaker located just outside of the entrance of the theatre. An all-time classic 'Singing in the Rain'. The cheerful melodic song takes the centre stage as the vacant street acts as their audience. Rebecca looks at you with devious gaze in her eyes. You have a bad feeling in your gut as you can almost see the thought that runs in her mind. You shook your head.

"Oh, come on! You promised that I can do anything I want. Please?"

She gave you those pleading puppy eyes, a critical hit to your heart. You battle with your internal self but the latter isn't any good with arguments. You sigh and agreed. Rebecca jumped up in celebration of her little victory and took you by your hand and lead you to the spotlight. Hands behind her back, tapping one foot out to her right; heel, toe, heel and step. Knowing your cue, you followed. With the opposite foot, she repeats the same moves, gliding in the opposite direction and you do the same. One foot at a time, she hops with airy steps with arms flutter at her sides as she glides her footwork in the figure of eight, in time with the beat. Pushing her foot out with pointed toes, her leg lightly sweeps across the concrete floor as she shifts her weight and twirls on the spot. Her matte satin dress spins in the same direction, the seams floats up in a graceful manner as it whirls around like a maypole but it's gravitational pull delays when Rebecca halts to an end with a croisé pose as the song fades.

Mesmerised by the sight of her dance, you stand on the spot and gawk with your jaw hanging wide. Before you can react with applause, she extends out a hand to ask for yours in return. You happily accepted her touch with the heat of your palm. Fingertips tenderly brushed against her shoulder blades and even the slightest touch her skin can make your heart race a thousand beats per minute. With her hand clasped on your waist, she takes the lead. The incandescent bulb echos in her emerald eyes, twinkling like stardusts; each step she takes, you follow along. Moving to the adagio rhythm, Elvis whispering softly about hopelessly falling in love with somebody, swaying side to side in front of the dazzling theatre with half the city fast asleep. You wish the city could watch as both of you dance in the moonlight, but you need no audience, as Rebecca is your whole world. Prompting her right hand, she twirls for you once more, making a long-lasting image imprinted into your memory. Hands delicately raising the edge of her skirt with the pinky finger extended out for emphasise, she dips into a curtsy bowed gracefully towards you and you do so returning the politeness also as graciously as possible.

All seriousness suddenly turns into a bellow of laughter filling up the darkness and drowning out the music. The hilarity persisted until both your stomach muscles ache with a fiery pain and eyes filled to the brink with tears of joy.

"Alright, lemme take you home."

She nodded with a soft smile, strolling together once more, hand in hand. Wasn't long until you looped back to where you've parked your transport. Rebecca eyes the yellow, barely-holding-it-together machinery with uncertainty.

"A...vespa. Can you please make sure I get home in one piece?" she jest.

"Hey! This baby is as safe as a house." you shift just out of earshot and murmur, "Don't listen to her, baby."

"You should get an electric one. You know, to help save the planet."

"Alright, alright...Dr Chambers." she huffs in response.

Tucking strands of hair back into you hat of safety, you popped open the seat, revealing yet another helmet. This one, a cream coloured shell lined with a retro red-blue stripe inspired by 60s aesthetic. You bought this weeks before the date and with the intention that she'll be the only designated passenger. Rebecca picks up the helmet and paused, eyes gazing attentively at it. Internally, you start to panic. Is it too much? Does she hate it? You swallowed hard; your lips quiver as you were about to speak, she cups your cheek as the warmth of her palm spreads before you could register it her lips are pressed onto yours, taking you in by astonishment. Your hands instinctively supported her waist as her body leaned against you on tiptoes, then she pulled away. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but the lingering feeling felt forever. Still living in a daze, she calls out.

"Are you still going to drive me home?"

You snapped out of your daydream and found her already seated on the backside of the Vespa. Gleefully, you skipped your way to the driver's side, almost crashed landed onto the seat, still giggling stupidly to yourself. Sometimes, action speaks louder than words. And that kiss was all you needed. Ignition on, goggles strapped to your face, you yell;

"Hold on tight, babydoll."

The back tire squeals as you take off. Rebecca clutches your midriff for the sake of her life as you race into the twilight full of adrenaline. Engine roaring in the dead of the night amidst the summer wind streamlining around you, streetlights began to form in a strip of fluorescent lines. Her chin rests on your shoulder, squeezing you ever so tighter as the passing signs and billboards reflect off her visor, in shades of pink and purple hue, wondering if she's existing in a virtual dream state. Even though the music had already stopped playing for the both of you, this was once in a lifetime experience that you will remember for eternity.

-----

Bonus:

Love ya ☆

[asofterfan]

*tapping incessantly at your window*

Listen. Listen. I understand wanting to stay true to the canon characterizations of the sides but I think we’re overlooking a great opportunity within AUs to make those characterizations something that developed as a result of their background as opposed to something inherent.

For example: I can’t stop thinking of a human au where little kid Logan is absolutely enamored with fairytales, and fantasy, and romance. He soaks up every story of true love, uses magic to explain anything and everything, looks at every challenge as a wicked beast to conquer. But as time goes on the magic is slowly snuffed out of his life.

His mom gets sick. And then she gets sicker, and sicker, and eventually no amount of desperate, tearful kisses from his father can make her wake up again.

He gets bullied at school, taunted because “fairytales are for girls”, told that all the things he wants to believe in aren’t real. He’s pushed to the ground and no one comes to help him up again.

He realizes he’s gay, and there are no fairytales for someone like him.

He finds himself in a relationship that is manipulative, and unhealthy, and abusive, and love doesn’t save him, love blinds him and keeps him trapped for far too long.

And so Logan turns to logic, because he’s tired of having his heart torn apart, and there is comfort in the things that can’t be taken away. He buries himself in math, and science, because those aren’t things you believe in, those are things you know, and Logan holds onto that like a shield. He donates all his story books and starts carrying textbooks.

By the time he gets to college you would never know he had ever been anything other that the stiff, hot headed nerd he is now. That’s certainly all Roman knows him as when they move into the dorms and become roommates. And more than that he’s an insufferable nerd, always correcting Roman on everything, practically every other word out of his mouth is “FALSEHOOD”, although he’ll begrudgingly admit to being impressed with how the boy can rattle off sources like a wikipedia article.

They butt heads a lot- Roman with his head in the clouds and Logan with his feet firmly on the ground and both with passionate souls. They spend the whole semester bickering and arguing until finals come around and they both find themselves run into the ground preparing for exams. It’s past midnight, both boys studying quietly, and Roman is two seconds away from banging his head on his desk so he decides a snack is in order. As he stands to leave he happens to look over Logan’s shoulder and sees a astronomy textbook open to a picture of a stellar nebula.

Roman points to the picture curiously, “What’s that?”

Logan is surprised, but too tired to really think about it, so he quietly explains, giving a condensed but still comprehensive outline of the places in the universe where stars are born.

Roman’s eyes are wide with wonder, “That’s magical.”

Logan frowns, not in anger, just confusion, “It’s not magic. It’s science.”

But Roman only shrugs, “Why can’t it be both?”

And Logan doesn’t have a response to that.

So that becomes their relationship- Logan shows Roman all the wonders of their world, all the things so much stranger than fiction, and Roman shows Logan how to see the magic in all those things. They’re walking back to their dorm one night at the beginning of summer and as they pass through the quad they see dozens of fireflies floating gently above the grass.

Roman gasps and starts slapping Logan’s arm, “Lo! Lo! Look!!”

And Logan nods, stopping to appreciate the sight, “They’re called lampyridea.”

“Fairies.” Roman whispers. And before Logan can correct him, or make any sort of comment, Roman dashes into the field, twirling and giggling amongst the glowing insects. And when Roman cups his hands around one of the tiny lights and gazes at it in absolute wonder, smiling wide and too distracted by the one in his hands to notice the two that landed in his hair, Logan believes in magic again, if only for a moment.

He believes in it again the first time Roman kisses him, even as his head screams at him not too. He wants to run away, but he doesn’t want to either, so he compromises by telling Roman everything. Swallowing back the shame, he admits that love feels more like a horror story than a fairytale, and how hard it is to believe in a happy ending, and how scared he is of being trapped again because God he loves Roman and it’s terrifying.

And Roman holds him close and says, “Let’s write our own story.”

And they do, and it’s better than either of them could imagine because it’s not a fairytale. Their story doesn’t end after falling into each other’s arms, they get to wake up in the morning and do it again. Their love is more than grand gestures and adventures and flowery poetry, it’s sitting quietly together because that’s all they need to feel loved. It’s bickering playfully, arguing and butting heads, actually truly fighting with slamming doors and everything but coming back and working through it because their love is stronger than their anger.

So they both grow up believing in science, and magic, and each other.

[doctorbrebre]

Day 1049, Books 279-282

So about three weeks ago I’ve begun reading this post-apocalyptic science fantasy anthology of four books titled Tales of the Dying Earth by Jack Vance who, as far as I can tell now, is probably one of the most influential and least known authors who ever stumbled into the disgusting mess known as fantasy. He’s so influential actually that the whole “Dying Earth” subgenre was named after his novels and numerous later great writers credited his works as a main source of inspiration like Michael Moorcock, M. John Harrison, China Miéville, Mark Lawrence or N. K. Jemisin. Now that I hopefully managed to hopelessly overload the reader’s mind with lots of names, let’s break down this 1041 pages long doorstop into something more digestible.

The first short stories in the series were written by Vance in his spare time during World War II while serving in the US Navy and were published as a single volume called The Dying Earth in 1950… “But Dr. Bré, you foul-mouthed yet dazzling intellectual!” I hear you exclaim. “How is that even possible if everyone knows that fantasy wasn’t a thing until like four years later when Tolkien bitch slapped us with The Lord of the Rings and science fantasy was even more not a thing until the literary fever dream which is The Book of the New Sun entered the public consciousness in 1980?!” But okay, tongue-between-asscheeks bullshittery aside I just want to say that this thing is well, quite old. 

The setting, which is basically the stories’ main appeal, is actually quite remarkable, at least as far as the variance of ideas go: the undefined far future of Earth, when the sun is nearing the end of its life, the landscape dotted with ancient ruins and other fragments of now-decayed civilizations, members of the shrinking human population living mostly as scavengers amongst the detritus, making use of technology and magic which was in previous eras, but which they can no longer understand or even tell apart. This kind of “just before the end of the world” scenario with Clarke’s Third Law in full kick, although isn’t wholly Vance’s idea, was first introduced into the mainstream here thanks to him and later became the basis of series like The Dancers at the End of Time, Viriconium, The Broken Earth, Broken Empire, Bas-Lag, etc.

Considering all this it’s pretty disappointing that there is little to none of the melancholy atmosphere or the apocalypse-induced philosophising which one could expect from such a premise (and which are practically the trademarks of all of the above mentioned later works). Sure, the life of your average person is quite hard and often rather short, genetically engineered monsters, marauding cannibal tribes and psychotic warrior-wizards are out to get you at each turn and there is a lot of talk about the sun kicking the bucket any minute but really it’s mainly just an - admittedly quite striking - aesthetic surrounding dozens of stories featuring a cast of rapidly changing (and dying) characters going on adventures all over the world in a style best described as a kind of trash-horror-softporn-wackiness.

Indeed, at first it mostly reminded me of the wild pulp style of Howard and Leiber, found in their Conan and Lankhmar stories with the purposefully overdone, though sometimes surprisingly beautiful prose, the plot of the loosely connected stories jumping from place to place and event to event with jovial abandon, the cast full of greedy and/or amoral bastards hyperfixated on gold and adventuring and the rather, let’s say, interesting treatment of the members of the population sporting a vagina. Later, after tackling the first book and getting to the the second one (The Eyes of the Overworld) I started to see a pattern suggesting a more subtle undercurrent but the true epiphany only came about halfway through the third (Cugel’s Saga) when the eponymous Cugel (author pet character, con artist and outlaw), after getting through a nearly endless series of mind numbing adventures, finally, on his third attempt, succeeded in his vendetta against this evil wizard who kept making his life hell - this shit is actually a kind of Fairy Tales mashup! This clarified some things for me: the characters weren’t meant to be realistic psychological studies, but instead unchanging and borderline-retarded, that is to say, as my former Lit teacher would probably insist to death, archetypical - foolishly and heedlessly stumbling from one peril to the next and then back out again. I mean this of course won’t excuse the all over the place pacing or the shallowness of most characters, but it’s still something.

Also worth noting that this series had probably the largest influence on Gary Gygax when he designed the original Dungeons & Dragons, beside of course Moorcock’s Elric stories (originally featuring the Chaotic-Lawful dichotomy that later evolved into the nine-point alignment chart) and the The Lord of the Rings. From the nonsensical dungeons where our heroes might face a gigantic demon head, some dark-skinned subhumans, a Mayan vampire and an Evil Chest in rapid succession, to the endless legions of megalomaniac wizards vying for power on every corner and the system of having to memorize your spells again and again from your magic books which you unavoidably forget after casting them, Dying Earth has it all (not to mention the Ioun Stones, featured in the fourth and last book, Rhialto the Marvellous).

All in all it’s always interesting to trace back the roots of shit you love to their origin (with the added benefit of by reading the things your favourite authors read maybe someday you’ll also have a chance at writing something on par with them), and while I can’t say that Vance’s style here struck me as particularly refined, there was surely an original voice and vision to his Dying Earth stories that is certainly worthy of a fresh ‘n’ crisp Mediocre rating. Let’s just hope that his other fantasy series Lyonesse, should I read it one day, will fare a bit better.

Now get out of my fucking clinic, you cumdog punks.

[justanotherboyinblue]

Unusual Asks

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? spotify!! 

is your room messy or clean? ...depends if i don’t have company, or i haven’t been made to clean it, it’s relatively messy. well. it’s not messy to me, because i know where everything is and why things are...not...put away, but messy to Literally Everyone Else

what color are your eyes? brown!

do you like your name? why? i Love my name mostly because i chose it and i like how it sounds I Just Think It’s Neat

what is your relationship status? taken! i have two beautiful partners that i love very very much

describe your personality in 3 words or less Chaotic Disaster Gay

what color hair do you have? also brown dkjbsgalk

what kind of car do you drive? color? i don’t drive! don’t have my license yet

where do you shop? anywhere and everywhere alksjdb meijer? ig?

how would you describe your style? Grunge

favorite social media account discord! ‘s how i talk to my babies :3

what size bed do you have? a twin! v comfy, v bouncy

any siblings? unfortunately two brothers both are Assholes

if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? switzerland honestly first of all, lgbtq+ has been legal there since 1942 like look at them Go oh my gosh also! i love german, it’s such a fascinating language but the biggest reason? that’s where moje rojena wants to live

favorite snapchat filter? i don’t have snapchat, and don’t really plan to kjasbdl

favorite makeup brand(s) don’t wear it! the only thing i use is chapstick lmao a wonderful vanilla chapstick by Eos

how many times a week do you shower? sometimes every night, but mostly every other night! so three or four

favorite tv show? oh gosh there are so many she-ra is probably at the top i love supernatural, and elementary, bbc sherlock, person of interest, steven universe there are a bunch of amazing shows i love!

shoe size? i think i wear like a ten and a half quadruple e do with that as you will

how tall are you? 5′4 i think probably

sandals or sneakers? flip flops!! or barefoot kadjbsgl

do you go to the gym? i don’t think i’ve ever even seen the inside of a gym

describe your dream date cuddle pile some show or movie on tv So Many Blankets but the most important thing the Most Important thing is that my babies are with me and that’s all i really need

how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? i don’t have any cash, but i have like a little over $50 on my card

what color socks are you wearing? white with gray designs

how many pillows do you sleep with? normally three, but i’ll bring in another three if i want to build a Nest:tm:

do you have a job? what do you do? no job! i think my first job will be working at my local library

how many friends do you have? uhhhhhhh no idea a dozen? idk maybe half a dozen i really have no idea, and i have a horrible memory

what's the worst thing you have ever done? I Will Not Divulge Such Information

what's your favorite candle scent? there’s this one candle we have that’s tide+kelp scented but it just smells like a speedstick it’s awesome

3 favorite boy names Leo (obviously) Tobias Axel

3 favorite girl names L(again, obviously) Celeste i’ve always loved the name Andromeda as well! 

favorite actor? Ezra Miller!! they’re a nonbinary icon, first of all, and they’re an amazing actor in my opinion! they’re Credence in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and Barry in Justice Leauge

favorite actress? hmmmmmmmmmm probably Margot Robbie tbh love her stuff also? have you seen the trailer for Birds of Prey? we Stan

who is your celebrity crush? don’t have one kjdsablg

favorite movie? oh gosh I Cannot Choose A Favorite Anything Okay i love Avatar(the one with the blue aliens not the Disgrace Of A Movie), and The Dark Knight, Captain Marvel, Abominable, and so many others

do you read a lot? what's your favorite book? i do! i used to read almost a full book every day Finding Me by Katheryn Cushman is really good, and so is Five Feet Apart, i love the Divergent series too!

money or brains? brains duh, if you’re smart you can make more money but if you’re an idiot with money what happens when you run out

do you have a nickname? what is it? not really kjabdsga my partners have their nicknames for me of course, but with my actual name you can’t have a lot of nicknames Leo calls me Q, i’ve been called Stefano and Viktor, one friend used Quimberly for a while akjfgbslkdfg

how many times have you been to the hospital? other than when i was born, i think only the once!

top 10 favorite songs Here We Go sweet tooth-Scott Helman adderall- Max Frost bambi- Hippo Campus roxxane- Arizona Zervas grixtronics- GRiZ iSpy- KYLE truth hurts- kidz bop (fuck off it slaps) walk man- TMG mr.clean- Yung Gravy peach scone- Hobo Johnson

do you take any medications daily? nope! 

what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc) definitely oily

what is your biggest fear? Ya Boi Out Here With Abandonment Issues

how many kids do you want? i’ll stick with my fur babies thank you very much

what's your go-to hairstyle? in my face covering my right eye so i can’t see with it because it annoys my mother and i think i look Hot

what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) medium i would think? we don’t have a second floor or a finished basement, but i’ve never had to bunk with either of my brothers so

who is your role model? no one specific! just, kind people, yk? 

what was the last compliment you received? i think it was on...monday? when Leo kept telling me i was adorable XD

what was the last text you sent? to a gc with my partners saying i was going mia because I Have The Right To Not Interact With Anyone For Several Days And Watch Movies  no i will not be taking criticism

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? like somewhere from seven to nine i think i have no idea dude, i have the memory of a goldfish

what is your dream car? .... 1967 black chevy impala

opinion on smoking? bad for you, love the smell, not gonna tell you to stop, will just worry quietly in the corner because i won’t tell you what to do with your life

do you go to college? nope! still in high school, i probably won’t go to college tbh

what is your dream job? owning my own bookstore! with a cafe a cat cafe i have it planned out to a concerning degree

would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? i’ve lived in one place my entire life and it’s on the side of the highway with no neighbors so Suburbs Be Like Scary

do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? oh absolutely

do you have freckles? no and i’m salty about it

do you smile for pictures? of course! never with my teeth tho because my canines are halfway up my face :)

how many pictures do you have on your phone? don’t have a phone! i have a Whole Bunch on my computer though

have you ever peed in the woods? did not work out tried once Never Again

do you still watch cartoons? of course i do i’m gay it’s legally required

do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonald's? i’ve never had McDonald's nuggets but Wendy’s has the best for sure

Favorite dipping sauce? ranch or campfire sauce

what do you wear to bed? pajamas???? in winter it’s long sleeve tees with fuzzy pants in summer it’s basketball shorts and whatever twenty-year-old shirt i can find in my closet

have you ever won a spelling bee? i’ve never entered one so no homeschool for the win

what are your hobbies? Anything On A Screen and books mostly books on a screen but i’ll occasionally pick up a paperback also food and swimming

can you draw? s o m e t i m e s

do you play an instrument? i played guitar for a while, but i broke one of the strings and don’t have the tools to replace it i really want a ukelele

what was the last concert you saw? i went to a college campus for four days with my youth group, and a band named Sing Love played every night

tea or coffee? Neither

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? Also Neither i’ve been to starbucks one time and it was the most disappointing drink i’ve ever had i am a loyal biggby customer  even though i haven’t been there in over a year

do you want to get married? not in the traditional sense i couldn’t even if i wanted to because the us said No Polyam Rights

what is your crush’s first and last initial? L.R. + L.G.

are you going to change your last name when you get married? probably! or we’ll both take a new one together

what color looks best on you? warm colors!! i do look Fabulous in a nice cool forest green though

do you miss anyone right now? Of Course I Do I’m In A Long Distance Relationship With Two People

do you sleep with your door open or closed? closed if it was open my asshole cat would eat all my hair ties and my fairy lights

do you believe in ghosts? nope! 

what is your biggest pet peeve? uh people who assume? ig?

last person you called? Leo XD

favorite ice cream flavor? mint chocolate chip!!

regular oreos or golden oreos? The Golden Ones  they taste like lemon even if they’re not the lemon ones i love it

chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? i don’t like sprinkles because i’m a Monster

what shirt are you wearing? i’m Not It’s Hoodie Season

what is your phone background? my tablet backgrounds are Leo and L because i’m a Sap

are you outgoing or shy? Both i’m getting a lot better in the confidence department, but i still get nervous and overwhelmed sometimes!

do you like it when people play with your hair? I Cry Every Time and so does Leo it’s adorable

do you like your neighbors? if i did i would hate them because i Can

do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? not outside of the shower

have you ever been high? nope

have you ever been drunk? nope

last thing you ate? leftover itallian mac n cheese

favorite lyrics right now ..... ................. raindrops on rose and whiskers on kittens~ sTICKING-

summer or winter? winter!!

day or night? night, of course

dark, milk, or white chocolate? milk! or dark with sea salt

favorite month? hm maybe august because it’s just starting to get cold, but you can also still swim on the warm days

what is your zodiac sign pisces! as i’m sure is obvious

who was the last person you cried in front of? my mother Because Leaving Me Alone For Five Minutes Is Impossible

thank you Luxet for the questions!

[bluepluto03]

this is just the first 1/2 of the next bruised apple chap cus it aint finished yet.... don’t really need a specific tw if you’ve read the rest of the fic but if you havent check the tws on ao3 pls 

-=+=-

Evie flipped through a potion book, one of the few she’d decided to take with her from the Isle. She’d been doing so for the better half of an hour, having skipped out on her lunch knowing none of her friends shared it with her today. Again. 

The book was somewhat old, pages worn soft from use, and handmade, containing the most useful spells she’d found in all her mother’s old potion books, copied over onto paper remade from the destroyed scraps brought over on the trash barges. 

(Carlos had learned to make these sorts of almost-notebooks ages ago. They’d take old books, too wet and moldy to be read, and tear out their pages into a vat with any other scraps of paper they could find. They’d remove any sort of mold or residue, then boil the mixture into a watery-paper mush. From there, they only had to bleach it and then spread and dry it into greyish white, thick parchment. Then bind the parchment into the shelled books and, voila! They hefted a pretty price on the market, too, clean paper surprisingly rare, and useful, on the Isle.) 

It was one of her two ‘main’ potion books she kept. Mal had a similar book, refined over the years, though it contained mostly spells while Evie’s held more potions than incantations. 

But while Mal had only her one book, Evie preferred to keep two separate ones. Both had choice spells and recipes she’d chosen from her mother’s books, but there was a distinct difference between the two. One was filled with spells they could actually complete on the Isle, and one contained potions she’d never hoped of being able to create with their limited resources. 

The second she’d also brought with her, but she’d yet to open it since arriving here. Even if she should be able to actually use the spells now it felt... wrong in a way. She’d only ever opened her second book to copy down potions she was sure she’d never make, it was almost more a graveyard of ideas than a source of information. 

Because of that, she continued to flip through her first book, and left the second hidden away. 

She’d been thinking about magic a lot lately. How the people here treated it, how Mal’s eyes lit up when she discussed it with Jane, how Carlos and Jay stiffened at it’s mention. 

(She of course hadn’t forgotten about Carlos’s magic, but she encouraged others to give him space, and the matter had been tabled for now. She knew he’d come to them with it, eventually.) 

Something she’d been thinking about was how her magic was so different from the others’s. It was much more passive, like a jacket instead of a second skin 

That didn’t make it any less hers, of course, it just made it… different. It was a tool. It didn’t run rampant with her emotions like Jay’s did, didn’t bend unconsciously to her every whim like Mal’s. She didn’t know what Carlos's magic was like, but the way he’d acted when Mal called him out on having it, she’d bet it was emotional in some way as well. 

So, if her magic was a tool, it was her job to decide how to use it right? It was her choice. 

She glanced down at the spell again that she’d been reading. Hide scars, seal small blemishes without any mark. 

She stared down at it for a long moment. Eventually, she folded the side of the page, marking it for later. 

If she had a choice, then why did she feel so trapped? 

-=+=-

“Are you okay?” Doug asked her, as the two walked to their english class together, something that had become the norm over the past few weeks. 

Evie forced a smile, the almost-casual kind most people couldn't see through. “Of course? Why do you ask?” 

Doug frowned at her.  “Cause you keep looking around. And you straight up flinched when some girls laughed behind us.” He lowered his voice. “If you’re self conscious about what other people are-” 

“I’m not!” She smiled, cutting him off. 

Doug looked skeptical for a moment, then sighed. “Alright.” He said, finally, and pulled out his phone, probably to check the virtual garden game he’d shown her yesterday. 

Evie took a deep breath, and took a sort of index over how she must have looked right now. Her hair should be perfect, but what if a bit fell out? What if her makeup had smudged?

She hurried into class and to her seat, pulling out her (non magical) mirror while Doug sat beside her, still on his phone. 

Why were Auradon kids so good at emotional stuff? On the Isle the most anyone could do was tell if you were bluffing about a brag or a trade, stuff that could start a fight or something. But here everyone payed attention to everyone’s stupid emotions. The only thing they couldn't do was tell when people were obviously lying, all of them far too trusting.

Evie snapped her mirror closed, a bit harder than she really needed too. She was fine. She looked fine. Perfect. No one was saying anything about her, no one was even thinking of her.  

The thought only made her feel more ill. She needed people to think about her, she needed them to love or fear her. Hadn't her mother told her a thousand times? 

“Evie?” Someone called her name, snapping her from her spiraling thoughts. 

“Y-yes?” She blinked, realizing the lesson had started and she hadn't even noticed. 

The teacher looked at her for a moment too long, obvious suspicion in the woman’s eyes. “Ben says he needs you.” She finally said, gesturing to the door at the back of the room. Evie turned to see a nervous looking Ben standing in the doorway. 

“Oh, one sec.” She hurried to grab her stuff and step out into the hall. Ben shut the door behind her, looking concerned. 

“What happened?” She asked, eyebrows scrunched. She couldn't think of any reason Ben would come to get her, unless one of the others were hurt. (Or hurt someone else, but she honestly preferred they hurt someone else then being hurt themselves.)

“Nothing bad, don’t worry.” Ben said hurriedly, his nerves still evident. “I just- uh, Doug mentioned you were upset about something?” His arm moved to rub the back of his neck, hesitant. “And I was wondering if there was anything I could do to help?” He asked, eyes wide and expression open.

Evie blinked at him, surprised. Was that really all? From how sincerely embarrassed Ben seemed to be, face bright red, she didn’t think he was lying. 

Evie considered Ben for a moment. She never talked about anything relating to emotions with anyone besides her crew. But he seemed… sincere. And he’d helped Carlos. And as much as she loved her crew, she didn’t really want to put this on them. Not because she couldn't trust them, but because she knew they were already worried about her. 

Evie looked over her shoulder. There wasn't anyone in the hall, but they were still out in the open. Venerable. 

“Is there anywhere private we could go to talk?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

Ben looked shocked for a moment, before he shook himself back to reality. “Y-yeah! There’s an empty classroom at the end of the hall. Number 17.” 

Evie nodded. The two walked to the room in silence. Evie tried to figure out how to explain what was going on without giving too many details, and staying as far away from mentioning the stress of their parent’s expectations. 

Ben held the door open for her, earning himself a slight smile. She stepped inside, sitting at a spare desk right near the door. Ben seemed to take note of that, and moved a row farther in, so he was diagonal to Evie, and she was between him and the entryway. 

Evie fiddled with her bracelets. Ben looked at her expectantly, though he seemed ready to wait for her. She was grateful for how considerate Ben was, but she didn’t really know how to respond. 

“Would it be better if I got one of the others?” Ben asked, his hesitance still hanging around him. 

Evie shook her head. “I don’t want to worry them.” 

Ben nodded slowly. “Okay… we don’t need to talk about it, if you don’t want too. I just know talking about it can help, but there's no pressure. Seriously.” 

Evie sent him a tight smile. “You really are such a gentleman, Ben.” He blushed, and her smile widened for a moment, before she sobered again. “It’s just… the people. The staring. It’s getting to me.” She admitted. 

Ben frowned. “Are people saying stuff to you? Because if they are I can have Fairy Godmother talk to them.” 

Evie shook her head again. “It’s just… whispers. Normal gossip and stuff. I should just ignore it, but it just....” She bit her lip. “It just makes me feel so ugly.” She finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper. 

Ben blinked at her, shocked confusion evident on his face. He honestly looked more like Evie’d slapped him with a fish rather than told him she was insecure. 

“Ugly? Why?” 

He sounded so baffled it practically forced a small laugh from Evie’s chest. She shook her head, another giggle passing her lips, and buried her face in her hands as dozens of emotions swirled around her mind. 

“It seems ridiculous but… well my mother is known for her obsession with beauty, isn't she?” She let out another slightly hysterical laugh.

“It’s not ridiculous.” Ben insisted. Evie gave him a look, like she did when Carlos insisted he hadn't been up all night even though he was covered in motor oil. 

“I’m serious.” Ben continued. “A lot of people have issues with how they look, and for the record, you’re one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen. And even if you weren't, that wouldn't mean you are any less of a person. Hell, I look like a boiled mushroom, and i’m gonna be king soon!” He laughed, face bright red. 

Evie smiled at him, tired but genuine. “Thanks, Ben.” 

He smiled back at her. “It’s not a problem, really.” 

Evie glanced at the clock on the wall. “Should we go back to class?” 

Ben checked his watch. “If you want too?” He looked up at her, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Or we could keep ditching. I know that a fresh shipment of ice cream just came in, and no one should be in the kitchens right now.” 

Evie laughed. “Sure, lets go.” 

-=+=-

Mal watched Jay from the corner of her eye as she ate. The two were situated in a secluded corner of the field for lunch, and Jay had been weirdly silent the past few days. It was a bit worrying, but she knew she didn’t need to push, at least not for him, Jay was surprisingly open to discussing stuff with the other four after he had time to process it himself. 

They sat for a little while longer. Eventually, Jay broke the almost-silence around them. 

“Mal.” He said her name almost like a request. She relaxed slightly, and turned to him. 

“What’s up?” She asked, gentle in a way she could only be when she was alone with one of the others. 

Jay hesitated.  “I think there's something wrong with the bracelet.” 

“What?” Mal’s relief at the fact that Jay was ready to talk instantly dissipated. She grabbed at his arm to look at his wrist, knowing full well that if anyone besides her, Carlos, or Evie tried that Jay’d probably have fucking decked them.

“It-” Jay cut himself off with a sigh. “The other day, that window that exploded, I think that was me. I was… thinking about stuff, and all of a sudden the bracelet got super hot and the window shattered.” 

Mal frowned. “This was supposed to drain your magic but…. Well, your a Djinn.” She whispered the word, even though they were alone. ”You generate a lot of magic, much more than we do. More than the bracelet can contain.” 

Jay’s eyebrows scrunched. “I thought it like released the magic or something?” 

“In theory, yeah.” Mal huffed. “Magic is active, it’s a form of energy. It never stops moving, and it doesn't stay in a container for long. It passively leaks out on its own, that's why nothing happens unless you try to use the magic. But you generate so much, it fills up faster than it gets rid of it. So, you’re left with magic of your own.” 

Jay’s expression became stricken with fear, and his breathing hitched. Mal internally berated herself for how blunt she could be. 

“So then, what do I do?” He asked, voice strained. 

Mal grabbed his hand. “First take a breath.” She told him. He scowled for a moment, but then seemed to force himself to take a grounding breath. 

“Okay.” She breathed, interlocking their fingers. “I’ll get E to make a few more of these, okay? And I’ll curse ‘em with the same thing. I’ll try and see if we can find a more permanent solution, maybe C can find something online. But it’s gonna be fine, okay?” 

Jay took another breath, and buried his face in her shoulder, nodding into it. Her arms wrapped around his back. 

“Alright.” 

[authoralice]

A three thousand word mini story thing I wrote for fun between drafting and editing Quickening Blade. So yes, this is a shitty first draft. Maybe I’ll turn it into a book one day! If I did...who do you think Ariel would end up with, Matthew or Otter? 

Mommy had put him to bed early because he had been a bad boy. It really had been an accident when his hand had slipped and his marker had gone onto her wooden coffee table. But mommy never believed him, about anything, or any of the things he saw.

His fingers curled around the knob of his cupboard but he paused when he saw movement behind the doors. It was a small cupboard. Just big enough for his coats to hang and for a few boxes of toys to sit on the floor.

Yet there was an undeniable eye watching him from the crack. It was a beautiful green eye that stared at him with unblinking malice.

This was not the first time he had seen something like this but one had never come into his room before.

Pale fingers emerged from the paper-thin crack between the doors of his cupboard, snaking inexorably towards his hand.

Mommy warned him about not talking to strangers and being very careful around people they did not know.

“Hello,” he told the eye cheerfully, not moving his hand away from the eldritch fingers impossibly stretching for him.

Maybe mommy was right, maybe he was a bad boy.

Smiling, he introduced himself to the unknowable entity residing in the small cupboard. “My name is Ariel, what’s yours.”

The fingers paused, then flashed back into the cupboard.

For a protracted moment, nothing happened. Then a voice emerged. “Are you not scared of me child?”

Ariel giggled, “no, why would I be scared?”

The question seemed to flummox the entity. “I am not of your world. I am here to feed on your fear.” Its voice was fluting and sweet and Ariel found himself drawn to it. Pulling on the cupboard handle, he whined when it would not budge. Not even slightly. The doors did not even have a lock. Yet somehow he knew that the doors would not open unless the entity wished it.

The entity did not wish it.

“I know that too. I want to see you.” His little face scrunched with disgruntlement. “What are you?”

The whole cupboard shook, whether with anger or merriment, Ariel did not know, but he did not remove his hand.

“We have no name,” the voice finally came, “you call us ghost, boogeyman, fairy, god, goddess, demon, angel, siren, rusalka-“

The voice stopped when Ariel yawned. “I want my jammies,” he demanded, “I was too tired to fold them up this morning so I threw them in here, don’t tell mommy.”

Silence once again and Ariel crossed his arms, “the jammies,” he repeated. Sometimes adults had bad hearing, he should be patient but he was really tired today.

“Close your eyes, show me your hands and say please.”

Groaning dramatically, Ariel closed his eyes and extended his little hands, “please.” It was not at all genuine, he was starting to get cranky and he would have to try and tell mommy soon if this entity didn’t give him what he wanted.

But then, as if by magic, he felt something warm and soft in his hands. Opening his eyes, he looked down at the blue fabric, covered in golden stars. “Thanks.” The doors hadn’t even opened, at least he hadn’t heard them creak. That was a neat trick.

“Are you gonna stay in my cupboard, you want anything?” He leaned down slightly, getting close to the green eye. It spoke to him again. “Milk. We like milk. Leave out a saucer before bed. You will be glad that you did.”

Ariel nodded, he could sneak out and get some. “Sure you don’t want it in a glass?”

If the eye could have sighed, he was sure it would have judging from its tone. “No, a saucer.”

Ariel scoffed, “weirdo…” he muttered to himself as he began to pull off his clothes, slowly and awkwardly. Mommy said he was old enough to do this himself now. “What shall I call you?”

“None of us have names. We are Other.”

Ariel paused what he was doing and leveled a scathing look at the eye. It watched him, it never stopped watching him. He was okay with that, the eye seemed nice. “I can’t call you Other. What about…” he put his finger against his lips, “what about Otter? I like that! Like the animal!”

This seemed to distress the entity.

“What…no, you can’t just give someone a name,” it insisted, its voice was still beautiful and melodic but it had lost the gravitas of its previous pronouncements. “Plus, that’s a terrible name.”

“No it’s not,” Ariel commented simply as he slipped out of his bedroom.

When he came back, carefully balancing a pool of skim milk on a chipped saucer, he noticed that the eye was gone. Maybe it really had been insulted by the name? Ariel shrugged and placed the saucer of milk right in front of the cupboard before leaping into his bed.

Closing his eyes, he quickly felt slumber persistently tugging on him until, quite suddenly, he was jerked from that same sleep.

The saucer was wobbling back and forth, as if it had been dropped back down from a sizeable height. All the milk was gone and in its place was a beautiful emerald green flower.

Slipping out of bed, he went over to the flower and picked it up. His nightlight spun in circles, throwing shadows and shapes of light over his face and the cupboard. The doors were open slightly so two glowing green eyes were now visible but only when the nightlight spun to highlight them.

Looking away from the eyes, he examined the flower. Perhaps flower was not the right word. He didn’t know what it was. It certainly looked like something from a garden, with a long green stem leading up to gently curling petals that met at the top. From within the petals, a buttery pale light glowed and ebbed like a slow heartbeat.

“What is it?”

The voice spoke again, thought it seemed to be speaking right into his ear. The eyes were gone from the cupboard.

“You do not have a name for it. Why not give it one?”

Ariel giggled, this was fun.

“Glowy!”

It was only many years later, did he realize three things.

One. It was not fun.

Two. Mommy had been right.

Three. He should never have trusted those green eyes.

It was the first time he had ever been punched. It wasn’t like the slaps his mother had given him, nor the rough jostling when he had been pushed out of the way by the other boys about who should get into the swimming pool first.

This punch was a marriage of knuckles, full body force and deep dislike.

His head spun as he fell back onto his buttocks and hands. The world swayed back and forth as though he sat on the dock of a ship.

Three boys in his own year towered over him. They had all hit puberty before him. It had been funny when their voices had dipped and cracked but now, it wasn’t funny anymore.

The boy that hit him wrung his hand out at his side and let out a bellow, “that felt good! See, laughing at me is wrong. But laughing at you….” As if to make his point, the boy laughed, “there’s nothing wrong with laughing at freaks like you.”

Ariel ran his hand shakily over his lips and it came back with a streak of ruby.

“I didn’t mean to laugh,” he started, “it came out all of a sudden, although you have to admit, your voice cracking like that wa-“

He didn’t get to finish as one of his other bullies took that as an invitation to give him a swift kick to his ribs.

Groaning, he fell to his side, clutching the spot that radiated a second point of pain.

“You’re a freak Ariel,” the leader, Matthew, growled. “A god damn freak. Everyone knows it. Why don’t you do us all a favour and go kill yourself huh?”

The comrades, Luke and Brydon, murmured their assent.

Ariel opened his eyes, he hadn’t even realized he had closed them and watched a trail of ants taking some bread crumbs into their den.

“You still see ghosts and shit? You know things like that aren’t real, you’re crazy Ariel.”

Ariel blinked. It was nothing he hadn’t heard before. It washed over him as ineffectually as placing a pebble in the strong flow of a stream. “Sometimes, I just don’t talk about it anymore,” he admitted as he slowly sat up.

When he did, his gaze landed on a white creature behind the three boys. Green eyes. Those green eyes he had spoken to him when he had been three years old.

This time, there were no cupboard doors to separate them or milk to supplicate it.

Some primitive part of the bullies’ brains bid them to turn.

Between the stationary swings sat a cat. Its fur was brilliant virgin snow, and its eyes were piercing emeralds. It did not stir, even as the two swings beside it began to move, swinging boldly back and forth. But when one swing came forward, the other moved backwards.

A wind stirred around the cat and its eyes grew larger and rounder. The wind picked up whispers, two, then three, then a dozen, then so many that it was hard to distinguish between them.

Help me…hungry, so hungry…why? Why would this…milk and honey….that’s not my child…book? A book?....it’s not normal…

On and on it went. The three bullies stared and Matthew took a faltering step towards the cat.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ariel muttered as he sat up, his legs crossed loosely in front of him. “It’s not a cat.”

It seemed ridiculous, and obviously Matthew thought as much. He bent down, picked up a stone and threw it.

It went through the cat, ephemeral as mist and fog.

The cat still did not move. The metal chains of the swings screeched as they began to spin, round and around the metal pole that they were hung from, wrapping themselves tight.

The whispers became screams that circled them like carrion birds.

Brydon screeched and ran for his life, bolting out of the park.

“Come on!” Luke urged Matthew, grabbing him by the shoulder and jerking him out of the park. The moment they left, everything stopped. The screams died away as suddenly as they had come and the swings unfurled themselves lazily.

The cat still did not move and Ariel watched it from his seat.

“Why’d you have to interfere? Now they really do know that I’m a freak.” Ariel sighed and rubbed the heels of his palms over his eyes.

The cat spoke. “They were hurting you.” That voice was so hauntingly beautiful that Ariel couldn’t help but look up to watch the cat.

“Yeah, well, they were going to get bored soon enough.” He rubbed his aching jaw, “why did you help me anyway?”

The answer was something he had expected.

“It’s fun to scare people.” The cat supplied, as if the answer should have been obvious. “It’s no fun hurting people, just scaring them. Plus, I was hungry.” Even as the cat spoke, its mouth did not move. The voice came from inside of it, not from it.

Somehow Ariel knew that and stranger yet, that made perfect sense to him.

“Why have you been gone for so long?” The green eyes were assuredly the same that had been in his cupboard, all those years ago.

This time, the cat moved and it tilted its head to the side slightly. “Gone…long…time,” the cat seemed to taste each word. “Time is felt differently by my kind. You humans make lines, clocks, diaries, computers, sundials, pocket watches, calendars….so many different ways to record something that does not exist.”

Ariel shrugged, “it makes living life easier. For humans anyway.”

The cat righted itself so it was sitting perfectly again, with its milky white tail wrapped around its legs. “You would think…with how humans devote themselves to recording something that does not exist, that they would see the Others far more often. We are very real, but you know that, already…Ariel.”

Ariel nodded, “yeah well, sometimes I wish I didn’t. You aren’t even the scariest Other I’ve come across.”

The cat’s unblinking gaze fixed him in place as surely as a butterfly against a board.

“You have not seen me try to scare anyone yet.”

Ariel scoffed, “what about them?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of where his three bullies had fled.

“I had been warming….up,” the expression sounded as foreign as it probably tasted on the cat’s tongue. “I had hardly begun to enjoy myself.”

Ariel blinked and the cat was gone.

Though the cat had gone, the voice lingered for a moment more, “I will get…a clock….and a calendar.”

He was kissing his boyfriend. In public. Ariel dared to lace his fingers through Mathew’s hair, sighing into his mouth. Matthew’s mouth quirked against his own and when Ariel pulled back, his heart was thumping in time with the music.

They had only ever kissed behind closed doors before but now, they were both brave enough to let anyone who was watching know that they were an item.

The music and lights throbbed, keeping time with his desire.

“Want a drink?” Matthew asked, his hazel eyes flashing with the strobes.

“Yeah, thanks.” Ariel tucked a curling lock of hair behind his ear as he rested his chin against his hand, happy to sit and wait in the little booth he and Matthew had scored when the last couple had moved away.

He bobbed his head in time with the music, idly tapping his foot, when he paused.

Green eyes.

This time, the eyes were attached to a human body. The man was taller than anyone else in the club and moved with the languid precision of a big cat stalking prey. The man, it, had milky white hair that pooled over the black leather jacket he wore, incongruous against the sharp features of his androgynous face. Full lips, bright round eyes, cheekbones that would slice open a mortal’s hand.

Ariel swallowed and tasted the peach chapstick that Matthew wore.

The Other stood before him, somehow separate from the club atmosphere. A bubble of calm surrounded him. A woman was talking to her friend and was on track to bump right into the Other before she jerked back suddenly, as though burned.

The Other did not even look as the woman hurried away, rubbing her hands over her arms whilst glancing back at him.

The Other spoke and he knew then, that this was Otter once more.

“Ariel, you aged.”

It wasn’t the nicest way to greet someone. Ariel smiled and leaned his cheek against the back of his hand, “uh huh,” he grunted in reply, “I did, I’m in college now. Last we met I was a freshman in highschool.”

Otter didn’t blink but stared at him unerringly as he always had. Ariel knew that the words freshman, highschool and college meant nothing to Otter.

“Yes,” was all Otter said in response as he moved to sit down in the booth next to him, his movements fluid mercury. Ariel’s pulse fluttered in his throat. The survival instinct he had seemed to lack as a child had developed a little as he had grown. It said to him.

Run.

He stayed exactly where he was.

He hadn’t listened to his mother and he was not going to listen to that voice either.

Something white hung at the back of Otter’s collar and Ariel scoffed as he reached for it unthinkingly, tugging it off his coat. “A price tag?”

Otter looked down at the barcode, “yes?” It was the first time Ariel had heard any uncertainty in Otter’s voice and he scoffed, “did you steal your clothes?”

Otter hardly moved as he spoke, just his lips, forming words for his lilting voice. “Yes, I was told by a stranger that my clothes were odd. I wanted to try blending in.”

The haunting pricks of green fire for eyes, the alabaster hair, the unusual height and the androgynous beautiful face was anything but inconspicuous.

“I got you a vodka and cranb-“ Matthew’s voice started, then died away as he stared at Otter.

Matthew was broad, the typical jock. Yet against Otter he looked…small.

“Who’s this?” There was wariness in that question and even in the warm dark of the club, he could see the hairs on Matthew’s arms standing on end.

“This is Otter.”

The colour drained from Matthew’s face and Otter turned, slowly, to face him. Otter spoke, “the last time we met….you were hitting Ariel,” he cocked his head, “now you’re kissing him?” Otter ran a single digit over the surface of the table in an intricate circular pattern.

“Curious.”

Matthew’s knuckles turned white against the glasses he held. “What do you want?” Otter held up a hand, “I’m not here for you. I’m here for Ariel.”

Matthew’s fear was palpable.

“I don’t care if you’re here for him,” he slowly put down their glasses as he squared his shoulders.

Ariel groaned, he knew that look. Shoulders squared, teeth clenched…

“I’m not going to let you hurt Ariel.”

Otter rose to his feet unhurriedly and placed his hand with the gravitas of an axe fall  on Matthew’s shoulder. “Really?”

Colour returned in a flood to Matthew’s cheeks. The word was layered.

What can you do?

Do you really think you can stop me?

Aren’t you going to run away again?

Matthew wet his lips but before he could answer, Ariel got up. “What is it Otter? I’ll listen.”

Otter’s attention was diverted but his hand remained on Matthew’s shoulder, the sharp tips of his nails pricking his shirt.

“Come to Elsewhere with me.”

“Elsewhere? Where is that?”

A shrill laugh from the direction of the dance floor made Matthew tremble.

“Elsewhere is Elsewhere. Where the Others come from.”

[auncyen]

Parts 1 & 2 of the Hanahaki prompt story can be found here. I probably need a title for this at some point.

Before that day, Ringabel had thought he would have had a knack for sensing when danger was afoot, just as he had a talent for piloting an airship. Part of having a rogue's charm. Apparently that idea had been completely wrong, and now the ship he'd been growing to like had been brought low and constrained to the inner sea, unable to help them reach Florem, because he had completely missed Edea's charming friend making a visit. The dark knight Alternis Dim had struck Tiz by surprise and broken the skystone to ground their group. "Really! You'd think with how long they've known each other, he would at least hear her out before breaking ships and punching people," Ringabel complained. "It would have been nice," Tiz agreed. Now that he'd had time to recover from the punch, his color was back to normal, though he winced every once in a while as they trudged toward the miasma woods that separated Ancheim from Florem. "He thought we'd kidnapped her though. And once she told him she was with us of her own free will, he really lost it." "Alternis has always been like that," Edea said blandly. "He tries to act stoic, but he couldn't keep a cool head unless he was risking frostbite." "And you have a passion to match," Ringabel mused. "I must have missed quite the row." "Excuse me?" Ringabel quickly raised his hands in surrender, though he didn't miss the slightest smile on Agnès' face, and he was a bit suspicious of how conveniently Tiz had to cough into his hand at that moment. "There's nothing wrong with having passion, is there? You were defending Tiz and Agnès!" She stared him down longer than he would have liked, but after a few seconds, Edea accepted it, turning back around and leading the way. "At any rate, I hope that's the last we see of him. But Alternis seemed to have other ideas, and he's known for his tenacity. I'd keep an eye out for him." "...To be honest, I'm still surprised you two are childhood friends," Agnès said quietly. "Some of the things he said were...quite harsh." Edea offered only a half-hearted shrug. Ringabel frowned. Just what had Alternis said? "Of course, he's only angry at me for how this might reflect on my parents. I couldn't have expected anything else from him." "Not concerned for your safety?" Ringabel said. "I would expect that, given his feelings." "What feelings? I told you, he got his flowers removed." "What? But, what does that have to do with..." Ringabel completely stopped in his confusion. Alternis loved Edea. He'd had Love's Languish, Hanahaki disease because she didn't reciprocate, and he was only cured because he'd had the flowers removed. Wasn't that what Edea had told him before? But nothing about that meant the man should no longer love her. Tiz made a small 'hm?', slowing in his steps as he looked between Ringabel and Edea, but it took the girl a couple more seconds before she stopped walking ahead. "Oh, I see...I suppose I didn't really explain well enough before. It's fairly common knowledge in Eternia." Ringabel couldn't see her face, as she remained facing forward, but he saw how her head turned down, her hand resting on her chest. "The surgery is to remove the flowers, but because they're the manifestation of emotions, the person loses those feelings too. It's apparently typical for people to be indifferent toward the former object of their affection afterward. Though, in Alternis' case..." She didn't seem to want to finish that thought, and Ringabel was too upset to indulge in curiosity and ask. "That's a very critical detail," he said, his throat tight. "It would be one thing if it simply cured people, but when it deprives them of their feelings--" "Of one feeling! One feeling that was making them miserable!" Now Edea did turn around, stomping her foot as she did. "You are suffering for some girl you don't even remember, don't tell me that's reasonable!" "It's you, I've told you, I know it is!" "You have no memory." "I do still remember that I have amnesia, funny enough. I may have no memory, but I have my heart, and I know, it's you." "And I don't love you." In the corner of one eye, Ringabel could see Tiz and Agnès having a small exchange between themselves and putting a few extra feet between the two of them and Edea and him. He supposed this was starting to seem like a fight, and he tried taking a step back himself, despite the pressure he felt building up in his chest. "I know you don't. But I have hopes you may in the future, and even if--" Edea was just not having it. "Ohh, no. No. I've heard the 'even if you don't' before, and it's not true. You have hopes. That's all. And I can tell you right now, I don't love you, I am not going to fall in love with you, and if you want to stop coughing up flowers, your choices are either moving on of your own accord, or getting the surgery to help you move on. It's those two. Your pick. Because I don't feel particularly attracted to shamelessly flirty men who lack common sense--" Ringabel took a deep breath. Or tried to. Between the thickness of the miasma in the air and the flowers tangling in his lungs, his breath caught, and Agnès looked sharply at him before stepping forward. "Edea, you two may have this discussion once we are clear of the woods, but not a moment sooner. Ringabel, ...save your breath and take care of yourself." "We've only restored one crystal's light!" Airy chimed in from Agnès' shoulder. "We don't have time for silly arguments!" Edea huffed an aggrieved sigh. "Even if Alternis hates me now, at least he can argue with me without coughing up flowers," she muttered. She'd clearly caught his trouble too, and Ringabel turned away from the others with shame burning his cheeks as he waited for his breathing to calm. She'd gotten him good with that unflattering description, and ...if she really saw him that way, perhaps it would be better to get the flowers removed, with a chunk of his heart besides. But to be indifferent to her? To hate her? The way she'd touched her chest while talking about the surgery's side effect...even though she played it off as a necessary consequence, he was fairly sure it bothered her that her childhood friend no longer liked her, even if he was in better health now. But he had to leave the matter alone for now. She was upset, and so was he. Only Tiz chattered, trying to restore a better mood in the group, and even his efforts petered out after they went nowhere. The group made the rest of their way through the miasma woods in relative silence.

[blessedxblight]

gil, jessie, and todd 

— The hardest part of losing your shit was the look people gave you afterwards. It was like you became a shattered glass ornament where every piece of you was held together with glue. Nobody wanted to test whether that glue was still tacky. And then, a brave soul would inevitably counter the room’s polite, downwards gazes to ask what happened. As if you could explain what it felt like to have the hollows of your bones vibrating. As if you could convey the sensation of your electrified flesh melting peacefully as the springtime thaw. Your body hummed, even if your charming reflection in the mirror and functionality at work masked that. This superhuman energy leeching off your skeleton could still be controlled. One, two, and then three days without sleep could zip by, but you were careful to only tremble in private. No, Norman from the fucking water cooler didn’t need to know your misfiring synapses were stones skipping across the creek. Each slap against the water marked a new, ingenious idea that was somehow cosmically related to the last. The time the stone soared over the water grew longer and longer, and it marked the vast leap in logic between each thought. Soon, the creek was filled with dozens — no, hundreds of rocks flying over to the other side after having only touched water once or twice. Norman, who pushed papers slow enough to be a tortoise reincarnate, wouldn’t know how to respond to that. Instead you told your coworkers it was a stress-related breakdown or you got dumped and cracked from the pain of your broken heart or that you’d taken ecstasy at the club. That was easier to grasp than how your mind first intoxicated you before slipping in the poison. Gone was the light, seductive buzz that won work accolades and recognition. You went from happily balancing on the cusp of euphoria to falling off the ledge. You’re without your mask and to your horror, realize that your rational mind is no longer in the driver’s seat and won’t return until you finally hit the ground.

How could that slack-jawed Norman understand what it was like to lose control? That at the time, cutting your anklet to join an animal right’s adjacent, antigovernment protest at the Franklin Zoo had made perfect, beautiful, simple sense. That the FBI would understand that attempting to free the tigers were part of your master plan. Confidently, you consoled Jessica about your decision and even flashed one of your signature, charming smiles. Despite the plan’s extreme nature, you assured her that it was carefully calculated. It would start a movement: it would spark real change on a government level, news stations would clamor for interviews, it would transform you from conman to national hero.  

Spoiler Alert: It had not started a movement. What it had started was a three day sabbatical in the emergency room.

On the morning of the second day when he’d finally stopped raving about tigers and had awoken from a peaceful, sedated nap, this was precisely how he’d explained it all to Agent Mulder. The humming, the rocks, his infinite dislike of his desk mate Norm  — all of it. Gil had given him permission to relay it to Jessica if asked, but he wasn’t sure how much had reached her.

The doctors had reassured Agent Mulder that Gil’s test results showed he’d been treatment compliant and hadn’t taken any recreational drugs. This had happened despite Gil’s control-freak nature, despite the fact that on paper he’d done everything right to prevent this. But sometimes, doing everything right still wasn’t enough. Gil would understand if the uncertainty that came with the big, almighty b-word was too much for his girlfriend. It had been too much for Raoul. He still had his consulting job, but did he still have his girl?

Gil glanced down, fiddling with the empty, plastic fruit cup in his hands. Contrary to popular belief, not every high was fun. Some people had it in their heads that it couldn’t be hell on earth. Not after Hollywood reassured them it was a quirky plot device that flipped on a magical, manic pixie dream girl switch. It could be a pain that reduced a career criminal, one who’d even gone to federal prison, to tears when he finally felt relief.

“What do you think of the free sock? Sexy, right?” he asked. One sprained foot is hidden inside an ankle boot, while the other wriggles in a yellow gripper sock. Gil cracked a smile despite looking and sounding exhausted. The month without consistent sleep had caught up to him and yet, he still found great humor in the situation. In hindsight, his tiger moment was kinda hilarious. Before the FBI intervened, a lovely video of him as an “impassioned bisexual protestor” wearing a bi flag bandana, limping to the bars with a baseball bat, and going wild had made it to the local news.

“Imagine playing footsie with these grippers,” he teased. Gil was glad to feel like himself again. The frantic energy that’d possessed him was finally exorcised. If that meant being more sleepy and hungry than his baseline, he’d take it. “I’m sorry this won’t help the love potion rumors,” he said. “It’s kind of ridiculous that they think anyone would need a love potion to fall in love with you.”

He looked up at her.

“You know I love you, right?”

Was this his first time saying it? His chest rose and fell with rhythmically slow, steady breaths. As he’d joked with Simon, he was confident that his first night involved agreeing to getting pumped with enough drugs to tranquilize an elephant. He was glad that Jessica had missed the part where a confident, capable international conman was almost reduced to tears because the world was calm at last.

“I love you so much, Jessica,” he said. “And I’m sorry.” That he hadn’t told her sooner? That she was always cleaning up his messes? For everything?

concern was at the forefront of her mind the moment she heard of the news– well really saw the news– or rather heard from the news that her boyfriend, the impassioned bisexual, was the cause of an animal right’s organization mishap. yes, he’d told her plan. his own voice declared and stated exactly what he was going to do, and yet, she didn’t entirely believe him. she giggled at the idea– she thought it was another one of those charms he was speaking, as if they were saving the polar bears one ice cream at a time, once again. she didn’t think to believe him. her giggles felt incredibly ignorant the moment the headline repeated Gil’s words back to her in one of those small television sets in the corner of a convenient store. it didn’t take her long to believe that her Gilbert was the fan in the flames for this incident. he was full of surprises.

of course the pit of her stomach churned at the idea of him landing himself in the emergency room. her worse fear was that he was mauled by one of those tigers– it started churning the opposite way once she realized it was only a matter of an ankle. of course, she wasn’t allowed in– not immediately. she wasn’t his spouse, nor kin. he was sleeping when she did visit–finally to see the cute button nose on his face wrinkle a deep slumber. she found it endearing that he’d laugh in his sleep, tiny little ho, ho, ho’s dancing with sugarplum fairies. she brushed his hair twice during his naps– and upon receiving news that he would be alright, she planned a little gift for him. the giftbag dangled in her hands as she took her steps in.

first she peaked her head in, a smile beaming at Snow White finally awakened by the fruit cup fiddling in his fingers. her giggles danced along the pale white room, attempting to provide a warmth to soothe that stressed out face he tried so hard to hide from her. taking her place by his bed, she slowly nods. “Sexier than a brand new Frosty Gingerbread Yankee candle.” though, the thought fo playing footsie with his grippers continued to squeeze laughter out of her. tiny wheezes soon follow as she shakes her head at him. her hands place themselves on her hips, and the her reads, what are we going to do with you. and despite his assuring words she offers him a sincere smile as he speaks his truth.

“Ya, sugar bear. I know you do,” she takes a long pause, letting the words take their full meaning to strike a heart and light it aflame once more. and though they were words unspoken to each other, she had an inkling that this was something they wrote about in books. and though she’s never believed herself worthy of one of those fairytales. it feels like the right moment.

it also feels like the right time to say it back. “You know I love you too, right? And you don’t gotta go off and try to save every animal for me, you hear?” her tone is solemn, with heavy admonition, but concern in trying to reason why he’d do so. “I know you’re sorry.”

fruit cup be damned, she takes his hand in hers and squeezes lightly. “I think the new boot on your leg might be your karmic punishment.”  she scoots the hospital chair closer to him, and places the giftbag on his food tray. “So I gotcha something to try and help cheer you up.” from the giftshop, she had snagged one of those stuffed animal tigers. it was a silly gift for him to remember his failed rescue attempts. – in it’s hand she’d made use of her sewing kit and stitched on one of those bisexual flags she’d found at the parade. the second gift– well he’d be coming soon. Todd Lupin was waiting for her signal to enter the room.

[imfrozentrash]

Helsa One-Shot: “Proposal Disaster” | Appreciation Drabble |

Author’s Note: This is a collection of appreciation stories to those who, well, deserve to feel appreciated! This one is dedicated to the lovely @hella-helsa  ♡

It’s the five year anniversary of Elsa and Hans’ relationship. This is the day Hans will finally ask Elsa to marry him. Hans has it all planned out and everyone is in on it. But what happens when things don’t go as planned? Modern AU. Inspired by Frozen Fever.

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Hans rearranges the centerpiece on the table. He steps back, tilting his head and examining the vase of flowers. With a frustrated sigh, he turns to Anna.

“Hey, is this centerpiece straight?” He worriedly asks.

“Relax, it was fine the first time you moved it,” she reassures as she hangs up the last of the fairy lights around the gazebo. Anna smiles and admires her work. “Everything looks like its ready to go!”

“Where’s Kristoff?” Hans asks looking down at his watch. “He was supposed to be here five minutes ago with the catering,”

“Hans,”

“What if Elsa isn’t home by eight? What if she’s held back at work and has to work over time? Then we would have to rearrange everything again!”

“Hans-”

“What if Elsa says no?” Hans voice cracks. “Does she even want to marry me?”

“Hans!” Anna marches up to him and grabs him by the shoulders. “Get a hold of yourself!” Hans is taken back when Anna suddenly slaps him across the face.

“Um…”

“Would you relax? Everything will be just fine,” Anna frustratedly sighs when she sees him still in a panic. “My sister really does love you. It’s been a long time coming but I’m sure she’ll say yes,”

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do. She’s my sister,” Hans finally sighs a breath of relief. He looks around the gazebo and gazes in awe in their work; a table for two is placed in the center under fairy lights and rose petals sprinkled all around the floor. It’s not over decorated; everything is just right. Hans reaches in his vest pocket and pulls out the small velvet box. He smiles to himself, already fantasizing the rest of his life with the woman he loves.

“Um, Hans?” He turns to Anna and sees her holding up her phone to show the time. “It’s already 7:55,” filled with sudden adrenaline, Hans snatches his coat from the chair, knocking it down along with the vase.

“Oh my god!” Hans shrieks, snatching it before it shattered all over the floor.  “Damn it,” he sighs, setting it back in its original place. “Anna, where is Kristoff with the catering?!” 

“Okay, why don’t you just go ahead and meet Elsa at home? I’ve got it from here,” Anna forcefully pushes Hans out of the gazebo as he tries to move things around.

“Anna…”

“I’ve got it under control! Just go!”

Hans anxiously grips the velvet box as he paces his living room floor. He glances at the clock on the wall and sees that its five past eight.

Maybe I should call her? I hope she isn’t held up at work.

He shoves the ring in his breast pocket and pulls out his cell phone. Through mid-dial, Hans hears the front door open. From the sudden startle, he quickly composes himself and waits for his girlfriend to come inside.

“Hans!” Elsa yells in frustration.

Oh God… Please, out of all nights, not tonight.

“You will not believe the day I had today!” Elsa kicks off her heels and stomps into the living room with her briefcase. “The entire department is such a piece of-“ Elsa is cut off when Hans stands there - dashing, handsome, and well dressed.

“Good evening Elsa,” Hans smiles timidly.

“Hans,” Elsa chuckles, forgetting her sudden anger. He walks up to her and kisses her tenderly. She’s caught off guard, dropping her suitcase to the side, and wraps her arms around his neck. Hans pulls back slowly to see her usual flustered expression. “Why are you so dressed up?”

Hans chuckles deeply and shakes his head. “You’re so beautiful,” he carefully moves her hair behind her ear and admires everything about her. Tonight, Elsa will finally be his. “Come on, I want to take you somewhere,”

“What? But I just got home,” Elsa already sees Hans walking to the door. Knowing that he won’t take no for an answer, she gives up and follows close behind.

“There you are!” Anna yells at her husband, rushing to the passenger side of the car. “Where have you been? You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago!”

“Sorry! Sven wouldn’t stop running out of the house,” Kristoff sighs, slamming the driver’s door. “How long has it been since he left?”

“About twenty minutes,” Anna grabs the wine and bucket of ice as Kristoff grabs the tray of food. The couple rushes to the gazebo and carefully prepares the dinner. Kristoff scoops the pasta into the center of the plate, garnishing them with basil and garlic bread on the side. Anna steadily positions the wine bottle inside the bucket of ice next to the centerpiece. The two of them step back and admire their work.

“Great job,” Anna smiles, hugging his side.

“Thanks. You too,” Kristoff kisses the top of her head and pulls her close.

“Say, who’s watching Sven right now?”

“SVEN! COME BACK!” The couple turns around and sees their German Shepard dashing across the park grass with a helpless boy chasing after him.

“Olaf!” Anna shrieks.

“I’m sorry! He got out again!” Olaf wines, on the verge of tears. He sprints towards the dog as they both approach the gazebo.

“No, no, no! Sven!” Kristoff yells, preparing to catch his dog. But he swiftly dashes between his legs. Rose petals that decorated the floor flies all around them. Anna and Olaf quickly catch all the silverware in time before they shatter on the ground. Kristoff is tangled in the fairy lights as he sprints around the gazebo to try and get control of Sven.

“Kristoff! Get a hold of your dog!” Anna yells in frustration.

“Hey, he’s your dog too you know!” Kristoff makes a final sprint for it and tackles Sven to the ground. With a groan, the German Shepard tumbles in his owner’s embrace and stands over him.

“Finally,” Anna sighs.

“You’re in big trouble mister,” Kristoff glares up at him, trying to catch his breath from so much running. But he immediately laughs when Sven kisses him on the cheek.

“Hey isn’t Elsa and Hans suppose to be here by now?” Olaf asks casually, playing around with the imperfect petals around the table.

“Hans, will you please tell me what this is all about?” Elsa laughs as she asks for the hundredth time. Hans smiles over his shoulder and sees her overwhelmed with gifts ranging from a stuffed bear, a bouquet of red roses, a dozen handwritten love letters, and her favorite books.

“Come on, we’re almost there,” Hans explains, carrying her presents.

“The park?” Elsa asks as they approach the familiar scenery. “This is where we would always go after class in high school,”

“Mhm! There’s another surprise waiting for us there,” he turns the corner but is disrupted from a gazebo in disarray of fairy lights, an arguing married couple, a young boy with his hands in a bucket of ice, and a German Shepard eating pasta off the plate. Hans gasps dramatically and drops Elsa’s presents in shock.

“Um, Hans?” Elsa asks. He quickly turns around and sees her step closer. “Is this the surprise?” With a grunt of frustration, Hans stomps up the stairs and gets in between them.

“Enough!” Hans yells, causing Anna and Kristoff to stop their bickering. “All I asked was to prepare dinner!”

“Well, if Kristoff couldn’t just control his damn dog, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“I told you, Sven’s your damn dog too!” Sven pops his head from the pasta and pants happily when his name is called.

“You two ruined everything!” Hans yells, his face turning dark red. “I’ve worked for months to make this night happen after years of being with Elsa! This night was supposed to be perfect and you all messed it up!” he sighs and reaches into his breast pocket. But he freezes when he finds it empty. Elsa confusingly looks up at her boyfriend as he frantically searches for something, not knowing what’s going on. But her attention turns to a barking Sven.

“Hello Sven,” she coos, motioning him to come to her. His tail wags happily and he trots over to Elsa. “Did you like the pasta?” She chuckles, nuzzling the top of his head.

“Hey Hans, what’s this?” Olaf asks holding up a velvet box. Hans snaps his head to the boy in terror, wondering how it could possibly fall out of his pocket. Sven makes a 180, memorized by the small object in Olaf’s grasp. His tail goes turbo as he dashes for Olaf. Before Hans could get the box, Sven jumps out of nowhere and snatches it. Hans almost faints when the dog runs off with his ring.

“Get that dog!” Hans demands on the brink of exhaustion.

“Sven!” Kristoff, Anna, and Olaf yell in unison and start running around the entire park trying to catch him. Hans just collapses in the middle of the entire mess and folds up in defeat, covering his face in shame. He looks up when he feels a touch on his shoulder and sees a sympathetic Elsa smiling down at him.

“I’m sorry,” Hans sighs. “Tonight was supposed to be special and now it’s all ruined,”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Elsa reassures taking a seat next to him. “I had a great time with you tonight,”

“Really?” Hans asks, feeling skeptical.

“I spent it with you didn’t I?” Elsa smiles and kisses his cheek. As the couple sits there in all of the chaos, Sven runs back up and stops in front of Elsa. “Hey there Sven. Aren't you full of energy?” She smiles while Hans grunts in annoyance. But Sven drops something in front of her, leaving his saliva all over it. “What’s this?”

Hans takes a deep breath and grabs a napkin from the table before he holds it up to her. “Elsa,” he starts, taking her hand. Anna, Kristoff, and Olaf stand over the railing and watches intently from the sidelines. Elsa tilts her head in confusion but her eyes grow wide when Hans reveals a beautiful diamond cut ring on a silver band.

“Hans?” Elsa gasps with a smile so wide.

“Elsa, you are all that I care about. Since the first time we’ve meet in Calculus, I knew that I’ve wanted to spend the rest of my days with you. Whenever I’m in a shitty mood, you are always there to help turn it around. You’ve helped me with my anxiety, you made me grow into the man I am today, and all I want to do is be by your side until the day I die. Even then, I know that we will always be together,” Hans smiles as he gently wipes away Elsa’s tears. She’s trying to calm her breathing but is too shocked and taken back by the moment. “Elsa, will you marry me?”

Elsa smiles with a faint chuckle as tears stream down her face. She couldn’t express her emotions right there and then because it was all too overwhelming. “Oh Hans,” she cries. “Of course I will,” before he knows it, Hans cries with her too - all tears of joy.

Hans carefully takes out the band and gently caresses Elsa’s hand. She giggles when he slips on the ring on her left hand and admires it for a while. Hans then turns his head and sees a crying Anna being supported by a proud Kristoff while Olaf holds Sven in a warm embrace. He giggles and shrugs his shoulders; an indirect thank you to the both of them. But Hans is interrupted by an overly happy Elsa who attacks him to the ground, kissing him lovingly behind the table.

Maybe the proposal wasn’t a disaster after all. Hans wraps his arms around Elsa’s waist, never wanting to let go.

Ugh, this was trash! I’m so sorry for the delay, I meant to publish this earlier but I’ve been caught up with responsibilities and shit. You know, the usual excuse us writers have for being absent for a while...

@hella-helsa I hope you’ve enjoyed your appreciation drabble! I think you are a wonderful person and I love all things Helsa that’s on your blog. We’ve chatted only a couple times but I really appreciated the gesture. I know that the two of us can conquer college together! Don’t give up! *cries out of exhaustion* I love you, darling! I hope you’re doing well! ♡

[bob-giovanni]

Title: Long Lost

Main Characters: Simon/OFC (other characters will be mentioned a lot but none will have much of a backstory besides these two.)

Chapter: One

POV: Third Person

Summary: There is a new member of Alexandria that has a bone to pick with Simon.

Warnings: Cursing, Eventual Smut, Hitting/Slapping, May Be A Slightly Slow Build

Notes: This will not match up to the show/comics completely, just FYI. Also, I apologize in advance as this is quite long. I hope to be able to add to this maybe twice a week. Maybe more. We’ll see what happens. I hope you enjoy!!!

-------------------------------------CUT HERE---------------------------------------

Father Gabriel was on watch at Alexandria. A chill had taken to the air so he brought with him a sweater and a hot cup of tea. He also had a book with him, one he found rummaging around his house. “Dead Until Dark” by Charlaine Harris. It was a romance novel involving vampires, shape shifters, fairies, etc. It wasn’t a very good book in Gabriel’s opinion. But with nary another book in sight besides the Bible he didn’t have much of a choice if he wanted to take his mind off things. As the sun started to rise Gabriel yawned and saved the page in his book. He stretched his arms above his head and looked behind him to see if his replacement was on their way. That’s when he heard it. The unmistakable roar of an engine. There was a vehicle nearby and from the sounds of it, it was not your average car. Gabriel whistled, giving the signal to those in nearby houses that someone unknown was approaching. Gabe got down on one knee and looked through the scope of his rifle before lining up his shot.

Rick, Daryl, and Carol ran across the field to the perch where Gabriel was. Rick climbed up first, followed by Carol while Daryl climbed up on the opposite side, aiming his crossbow. A few seconds later a large, military green truck pulled up about 20 feet from the gate. Rick leaned down a bit to Gabriel. “Who do you see?” Gabriel focused his scope so he could see into the front of the truck. “The driver. That’s all. No passengers visible.” Rick nodded and pulled his gun from it’s holster. “Show yourself!” He shouted to the person in the truck. Several seconds later a sunroof popped open. Shortly after that a young woman climbed out from inside. She had two machetes in holsters on either leg which she slowly removed and held out a bit so the people currently aiming at her could see what they were before placing them down at her feet. She pulled the bottom of her hoodie up to her chest and did a slow spin on the roof of the truck to show that she had no other weapons before putting her hands in the air.

Rick gave a hand signal to Daryl and Gabriel which told them to keep their weapons aimed while he and Carol put their weapons away. Rick called out to the mysterious young woman once again. “What’s your name? Where did you come from?” “My name is Amber. I came from Fort Washington, Maryland.” She didn’t want to give more information than was requested of her. Not yet anyway. “Where’d you get that truck?” The young woman quickly looked up to catch a glance of the person asking her the questions. “An air force base about fifteen miles east of here.” Rick’s face fell in disbelief a bit. “There’s a military base within driving distance of here?” Amber gave a soft chuckle. “It’s not easy to get to. It helps to have a big ass truck.” Rick felt a smile tug at his lips. He nodded to Daryl and Carol who proceeded to climb down from their perches. Rick leaned down to Gabriel again. “Go get Maggie.” Gabe nodded and climbed from the watch tower before running towards Maggie’s house.

“Two people are gonna come out to you. One is gonna search you. The other is gonna search your truck then drive it in here. Ok?” Amber knew if she wanted to get on the other side of that gate, get somewhere remotely safe, she had no choice. “Ok. I’m gonna climb down from here. I’m gonna leave my machetes on the roof.” As Amber started to climb down she heard the questioner start to speak. “Uh you may wanna grab those. There’s walkers heading your way.” Amber turned and saw about a dozen walkers coming from the woods to her right. She grabbed her machetes and quickly climbed down from the truck before Rick gave a signal to Daryl and Carol to not open the gate completely yet. The three Alexandrians watched in amazement as Amber mowed through the walkers two at a time. She obviously had experience swinging those machetes. Once all of the walkers were taken care of she turned and looked up at Rick before dropping her weapons. “Can I come in now?” Rick told Daryl and Carol to open the gate. Carol did a pat down of Amber and watched as Daryl completed his search of the truck. He walked around the back unlocking and throwing the doors open. “Holy shit.” There were boxes of supplies as well as about half a dozen large gas cans piled in the back of the truck. In the middle appeared to be a sleeping bag and two small pillows. Daryl and Carol gave Rick the “all clear” signal before heading back inside the gates.

Rick made sure to close the gates up tight and walked over to Daryl as he climbed out of the truck. “What’s in the back?” “A lotta shit. Shit we need if we wanna do anything about the Saviors.” Rick walked around to the back and opened the doors so he could climb in. He looked at Daryl. “Bring her around here.” Daryl grabbed Amber’s shirt and pulled her around to the back of the truck. “Hey watch it.” She protested. Rick looked at her. “What’s in here?” Amber sighed softly. “Are you gonna let me stay? Because if you’re not, sending me out there without this stuff is a death sentence. I’ve made it this far on my own. I don’t wanna die because of some asshole.” Rick quirked an eyebrow and was a bit taken aback by this woman’s brashness. He nodded a bit. “We don’t know if you can stay yet. Someone is gonna interview you, get to you know, then they’ll let me know if you should stay or not.” Amber nodded. “Well until that decision is made I can’t tell you what’s in here.” Amber knew well enough that they could open the boxes and figure out what was in there on their own. But she had a couple tricks up her sleeve.

A moment later Maggie appeared. “Maggie, this is Amber. She wants to know if she can stay with us.” Maggie nodded in understanding. “Ok. Let’s go.” Amber followed behind Maggie, walking about a third of a mile before walking up the steps to what Amber assumed was this woman Maggie’s home. Maggie led Amber into the living room and gestured at an armchair. “Please, sit.” Amber obliged, plopping down in the seat. She had almost forgotten what real furniture felt like. Maggie sat in a matching armchair across from her. “So…you’re gonna like, interview me or something?” Maggie nodded a bit. “Just some basic questions to get to know you a little better. Would you like some water?” Amber licked her lips and nodded. She was low on water in the truck and had been trying to conserve so she was incredibly thirsty. Maggie got up from the chair and disappeared into the next room, returning a few seconds later with a glass of water. Amber accepted the glass and took a swig, her eyes widening when the liquid touched her lips. “This is cold. You have cold water here?” Maggie smiled and nodded. “We do. One of many things we have to offer. But these resources are precious. That’s why we need to make sure that you’re a good fit for our community.”

Amber nodded and took another sip of the water, taking the time to savor the coldness. She hadn’t had a cold drink in literally years. Maggie picked up a notepad and pen. “So, Amber. Where are you from?” Amber put the glass down on the table in front of her and crossed her legs. “Bethesda, Maryland.” Maggie scribbled on the pad. “And you arrived here alone correct? How long have you been alone?” Amber sighed softly. “I’ve been alone since the beginning. I’ve never been with another group. People are scarce nowadays. I’ve come across a few groups but I watched them from afar and didn’t like what I was seeing so I split.” Maggie nodded as she scribbled some more. “So why do you want to stay here then? You haven’t had a chance to observe us.” “I know. But you have walls.That’s a hot commodity. It’s getting more and more dangerous by the hour out there. If I’m on my own much longer I don’t think I’ll survive.” Maggie didn’t scribble anything down this time. She just watched Amber as she talked. “Before all this what did you do?” Amber smiled a bit as she remembered her pre-apocalypse life briefly. “I was a tattoo artist most of the time. But I also tutored high school kids in chemistry and taught kickboxing classes.” Maggie raised her eyebrows a bit and nodded. “So you know how to defend yourself then?” Amber nodded in response.

Maggie put down the pen and pad and leaned forward a bit. “I just want to apologize in advance if this question is a little sensitive. But I do need an answer. What about your family? Parents? Spouse? Kids?” Amber felt a tear sting her eye but she quickly wiped it away. “I was married.” Amber unzipped her hoodie slightly and pulled out a chain that was around her neck, her wedding rings secured on the chain. Maggie proceeded. “What happened to him?” Amber shrugged. “No idea. He was at work in D.C. Everything went down in our neighborhood so fast. Some people had already abandoned their homes. But we stayed. We had to. My husband worked for the government so he was desperately needed when all this started to go down. He tried to get me to leave and go to a cabin we had in a secluded area by the Potomac River. But I wouldn’t leave without him. The neighborhood got swarmed by a group of…walkers you call them? I tried to call him but the phone lines were dead. So I just locked all the doors and windows and locked myself in the attic. My husband was a bit of a doomsday preper so we had loads of food, guns, ammo, water, etcetera up there. I figured it’d be the safest place to go. And I waited for him. And I waited, and waited, and waited. And after about six months I figured he wasn’t coming. At first I was so angry that he didn’t come for me. But then I thought, what if the worst has happened? So I packed everything I could carry and made my way to D.C. When I got to his building I was surprised by how untouched it looked. There was no dead ones anywhere in sight. I managed to get into the building and I looked for him, any sign of him, but there wasn’t one. I didn’t see his car in the parking lot either so I didn’t know if he had taken it or if it had been taken after. I holed up in the building, in his office specifically, and I grieved. Then I moved on. Because I had to.”

Maggie let out a breath that she felt she had been holding for hours. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry.” Amber smiled softly and shook her head. “It’s ok. I’ve made my peace with it.” After a moment’s pause Amber continued. “Anyway, I stayed in D.C. for a short while. The further into the city I got the more dangerous it became so I knew I couldn’t stay there. So I left and just stayed on the outskirts for as long as I could. Then I remembered that there was an air force base not too far away. I’d driven my husband there once or twice. So I made my way there. It took a long time. The main roads were too crowded with cars and dead bodies to navigate. But when I got there I was so relieved. It had tall reinforced steel gates. I climbed over and explored. It was a ghost town. I was the only one who had been there in a while. I let myself relax for a few days then I found the truck I drove here in and loaded it up with as much supplies as I could and parked it at an exit just incase I need to make a quick getaway. But for a while, a long ass while, I was safe. And kinda happy even though my husband was dead and I was pretty sure my whole family was dead too. Then one day a herd showed up, broke down one of the gates in the middle of the night. I barely made it out alive. That was about four or five months ago. Since then I’ve been driving around as little as possible. That monster is a tank but it is a bitch on gas. I observed other groups like a mentioned before. And then eventually ended up here.”

Maggie finished scribbling notes and looked up at Amber with a smile. “Stay here. I’m gonna go talk to Rick. Make yourself comfortable.” Amber nodded and took off her hoodie. Her left arm was covered in a full sleeve of tattoos. Her right arm was about half a sleeve that she never got the chance to finish. She turned over her left hand so her wrist was facing up and ran her fingers over the tattoo there. A date. 10-22-05. The day she got married. She smiled softly to herself but quickly snapped out of it when she heard the front door open. Rick walked in and over to Amber before extending his right hand. “Welcome to Alexandria.” Amber breathed a sigh of relief and felt like she could cry. She stood and hugged Rick tightly. “Thank you so much.” Rick laughed softly and returned the hug. “Ok. Now let’s head out to that truck.” Once there Amber went over everything she had. Food, medicine, gas. All very valuable items. She chewed her bottom lip as she contemplated telling them about some things she had hidden. She wanted to keep some things secret just incase. But at the same time she knew that the community could probably use it. She’d overheard Daryl mention something about ‘doing something about’ another group. “There’s one more thing.” She lead Rick and Daryl to the cab of the truck. She pried off the bench seat top and hidden underneath were guns. Shotguns, handguns, rifles, silencers. Rick literally gasped. “Do you have ammo?” Amber nodded. “Well these are all loaded to capacity. There’s close to two hundred guns in there. Also…” Amber trailed off and went to the back of the truck. She hopped inside and moved some boxes to reveal a hidden compartment. She lifted the lid and pulled out a large tool box that was filled to the brim with ammo. Rick grinned wide. “Amber you may just be my new best friend.” Amber smiled and jumped out of the truck and helped the group bring everything inside various homes.

When they got to the pantry Amber whistled as she looked at the bare shelves. “Well it looks like I got here just in time.” Rick turned and looked at Daryl who nodded. Rick turned to face Amber and sighed. “Well since you’ve agreed to stay here and to share your supplies with us it’s only fair that I tell you why these shelves are bare. There’s a group called the Saviors. They are not good people. A while back they killed two of our men, one of which was Maggie’s husband. Their leader beat both of them to death right in front of us with a baseball bat.” Amber’s jaw was slightly ajar and she had a pained look on her face. “Oh my god. I am so sorry.” Rick nodded. “Thank you. Since then we’ve been working for them. They claimed that they provide protection in exchange for fifty percent of our stuff. But really it’s our stuff in exchange for not killing any more of us. Now these supplies are gonna do two things. One is we can use some of it as our offering for the Saviors. Two is we can hide the rest to use when we fight them.” Amber nodded. “The Saviors? I’ve heard that name before. Two of the other groups I was scoping out had deals with them too. One group was called the Kingdom I think. It’s run by a real whack-a-doodle who calls himself King Ezekiel. The other place, the Hilltop. That seemed like a good shot for me. But their leader is a punk ass bitch.” Rick got a laugh out of that. “Gregory. Yeah he’s not great.” Amber furrowed her eyebrows. “So you know about that group?” Rick nodded. “Yeah. And the Kingdom too. Ezekiel is actually a great leader and not as crazy as you’d think. The Kingdom has agreed to fight with us against the Saviors. The citizens of the Hilltop are on board but Gregory isn’t. But we’re working on it.”

Amber absorbed all the information Rick had given her as she helped them unload supplies. After they were done Rick showed Amber to the house she’d be staying in. For now she had the house to herself. About an hour later Carol showed up with a basket of food as well as a casserole. “Welcome.” Carol said before hurrying off. Amber rushed to the kitchen to see what was in the basket. Canned fruits and vegetables, two packages of pasta, pasta sauce, and at the bottom was a small foil wrapped item. Amber dug down and scooped out the item. “Oh my fuck, it’s chocolate.” She said to herself. A few short minutes after Carol had left Maggie showed up with a bottle of wine. “Can I come in?” “Yes! Yes, of course!” Amber opened the door for Maggie. “Thank you so much for the wine.” Maggie smiled. “There should be glasses in your cupboards.” Amber dug around and found two glasses. She placed them on the counter and poured herself a full glass of wine before tipping the bottle over the second glass. Maggie quickly covered the opening of the glass. “Oh, no thank you. I’m…I’m pregnant.” She said as she placed a hand on her stomach. “Oh my goodness, really? Wow. How exciting!” Amber then realized that Maggie’s husband had been one of the men killed by this other group no too long ago. “Oh no, oh I’m so sorry.” Maggie smiled and shook her head.” No need to be sorry. It is exciting despite everything.” Amber smiled and got Maggie some water before the two sat on the couch in the living room.

Amber sipped her wine and licked her lips before turning to Maggie. “Can I…I mean do you mind if I ask you about your husband?” Maggie smiled and nodded. She told Amber all about Glenn, her father, and her sister. How her and Glenn met, fell in love, and lived for each other. Amber wiped away a tear. “That is truly beautiful.” Maggie smiled. “Thank you. What about your husband? Could you tell me more about him?” Amber smiled softly. “Yeah. Well we met when he came in for a tattoo at the shop I was apprenticing at. He walks in all tall, mustachioed, and handsome. Comes right over to me and starts flirting, asks me my name and says he’s gonna get my name tattooed on his chest. I said ‘Well that’s a stupid thing to do.’ and he responds, ‘Why is it stupid? I’m gonna marry you anyway.’ I was twenty one at the time and he was thirty seven so at first I rejected his advances. But we actually became pretty good friends. One day he comes in to the shop with flowers and was wearing a dress shirt and slacks. He walks over to me, hands me the flowers, kisses the back of my hand, and tells me how I’m the most beautiful woman in the world and would I do him the honor of having dinner with him. I admit I was a bit swept off my feet so I agreed. And a year later we were married and he did what he said he was gonna do and tattooed my name on his chest. My parents were very against the whole thing because of the age difference. But eventually, as I did, they got over it and realized what an amazing man he was. We tried to have kids but for whatever reason I just couldn’t get pregnant. It caused a few fights between us but after a few months we decided to adopt instead. All of this started happening a month before we were supposed to meet our daughter.”

Maggie placed a hand comfortingly on Amber’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Amber smiled. “I still think about her sometimes, ya know. We were gonna name her Charlotte. Sometimes I’m so mad that I never got the chance to have kids. Other times I’m kinda grateful because I can’t imagine raising kids in this mess.” Amber realized what she had just said and gasped. “Maggie I am so so sorry I just said that. I can’t believe I just did that.” Maggie stopped Amber. “Hey, it’s ok. I’m scared as all hell to have this baby. It’s one more mouth to feed on top of the fact that any cries could attract walkers. But I’m happy too. Not everyone could do this.” Amber nodded and took another sip of her wine. “Do you have any pictures of your husband, Amber?” Amber shook her head. “Unfortunately no. When I left the house I only took necessities. Not too long after I left I regretted not taking at least one picture. But since I was headed to his office I figured I’d just take the picture he had of us on his desk but when I got there it was gone.” Maggie perked up a bit. “Well that could be a good sign. Maybe he grabbed it to keep with him before he tried to go back to the house for you.” Amber shrugged. “Maybe.” Maggie continued talking but Amber zoned out. She kept thinking about him. She couldn’t stop. Maybe he did try to go back for her. But he would have found her as long as he was alive. She just knew that he was dead. Maggie gently tapping her arm pulled her out of her trance. “I’m sorry. What?” Maggie laughed softly. “I asked his name. What was your husband’s name?”

“Simon.”

Sorry the ending was so predictable! 

[lil-blue-one]

Gajevy Week 2017 - Trouble Twins

WOO! Still going strong at getting them done on time! I'm continuing from the story from the previous prompts, of course. Hope you like! 

"No better time than the present, so they say." 

Levy came back from her memories with a jolt, a faint blush crossing her face as that night faded from the front of her mind. The saying "Practice makes perfect" fit the situation as well. They certainly made an effort to practice. They'd "practiced" for weeks after Levy went to see Porlyusica. 

 June 9 

The old woman performed a full exam on Levy, telling her that there was nothing wrong with her body, she should be able to conceive and there was no reason that she hadn't. "Mebbe it's somethin' with me then, Shrimp…" Gajeel started, clenching his hands at his side. Levy could tell he was already starting to beat himself up and gently placed a hand on his, moving her head so she was looking into his eyes. "Don't. Don't you dare. I'm sure there's a reason, and neither of us is at fault. Now that we're both wanting this, we can be more aware of things. Maybe it was just because I was stressing so much about wanting to be pregnant in the first place." 

The tension in his shoulders released a little as a small smile crept across his face. "Yer right, Shrimp. We'll just have to try harder." He scooped her into his arms, kissing her deeply. "You idiots do realize you're still in my house, yes?" Porlyusica growled at the couple, tapping her foot and reaching for a nearby broom. Levy squeaked, hiding her face in her hands as Gajeel laughed, running out the door and down the lane towards their home. 

October 12 

It's been… four months? Levy chuckled, resting a hand on her belly. She was barely even showing yet, in fact no one else had even noticed yet. The only ones who knew were Gajeel and Lily. Gajeel had smiled so hugely when she told him, she'd thought his face was going to split. 

July 26 

Gajeel yelled as he picked Levy up and spun them in a circle, making her squeal. Lily came bursting into the room at their exclamations, staring blankly at the couple for a moment before realization broke through as to what was going on. Loosing a shout of his own, Lily flew into his best friends, hugging them tightly. 

"Careful of the baby, ya idiot!" Gajeel growled at the exceed, trying to pull Levy away as she started laughing. "Husband, the baby isn't going to be hurt by Lily hugging me! I'm only about five weeks along so far!" Gajeel of course had wanted to run out and tell everyone, she guessed so he could rub it in to the other Dragon Slayers. She made him wait though. She'd done a lot of reading and research since they started trying in earnest to conceive a child, and there was a great chance she could lose the baby still, especially since they'd had a challenge getting pregnant in the first place. She had considered keeping the news from Gajeel as well, for about a second before she snorted to herself and shook her head. There was no way she could keep her excitement contained from her husband. 

October 15 

"Are ya sure yer ready, Lev?" Gajeel paced anxiously outside the guildhall doors, Levy biting her lip to keep from giggling. "My love, you have been hinting at and pestering me to spill the beans to everyone for three months. Would you like to wait a little longer?" Her dragon slid to a stop, whirling to face her. "NO! N-no. I'm ready to tell everyone the great news. Jus' wanted to make sure I'm not rushin' ya into somethin' ya ain't ready for. Mavis knows ya got enough stress on ya without-" Levy finally let out the giggle she had been holding in, stepping forward to wrap her arms around him. 

"I swear to you it will be less stressful to tell everyone and stop having to figure out how to keep it from them. Besides, I will be showing soon, and won't be able to pretend I'm just tired anymore." Taking a deep breath, Gajeel nodded and leaned down to kiss the blue hair nestled against his chest. "Righ', Shrimp. How ya wanna do this?" Sighing, she looked up at him. "I have thought about just walking in and telling them, but that's a little boring, don't you think?" She paused for a moment to give him a chance to speak, but he just nodded again. "So, I'm thinking I'll just casually mention it to Mira and Lu-chan and let them announce it for me." 

Gajeel threw his head back in a laugh, his tiny wife smiling up at him. "You like that option then?" Letting go of the Iron Dragon Slayer, Levy stepped away and turned towards the guild. "You might want to stay across the hall from us… you know how Mira's voice can get when she's excited." He was still chuckling, wiping at his eyes. "Yeah, Shrimp. And Bunny girl can hit some seriously high notes when she's yelling." The bluenette scrunched her nose at him, sticking out her tongue as she walked towards the door. "Oh, real mature, babe. Yer sure ready to be a ma." Levy let out a sharp laugh as she pushed the door open, slipping inside and looking for her closest friend. 

She didn't have to look far, the blonde woman was standing just inside, her jaw slack and her eyes wide. "YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE A BABY?!" Silence followed her shriek for the space of a breath. Then, in true Fairy Tail fashion, there was an explosion of yells and noises as chaos broke free. "A BABY! GAJEEL AND LEVY! BABY!" There was a jumble of voices, and grimaces on the faces of the Dragon Slayers, their enhanced hearing more of a handicap now than it had ever been before. 

Within moments, Levy was whisked away by the guild's women, there were plans to be made. Gajeel had a mug of ale pressed into his hand, hearty slaps to his back and lewd comments being thrown at him. He tolerated it a few minutes, a smug look on his face before he got fed up with the attention and physical contact. "Three, Two, One…" Levy counted out to her friends as they watched Gajeel throw back his drink before swinging the empty mug into Natsu's face. "And they're off." The women laughed and gathered the notes they'd already started taking, slipping off to the guild's library. 

February 16 

"Gajeel, hand me that biscuit?" The Dragon Slayer picked up the food in question and passed it to his wife without even looking up from his book. Much to the shock of everyone in the guild, he'd taken to reading with her sometimes as they ate their meals in the hall. Natsu had been the only one dumb enough to comment on it so far, although Laxus had almost broken and said something when he saw that it was a baby book. He'd gone so far as to open his mouth when he felt more than heard someone behind him. He'd glanced over his shoulder to find Mirajane, her face in shadow and her hair starting to stand on end. "H-hey there, Mira…" She growled softly, speaking low so only the blonde man could hear her. "If you say something that makes him stop reading those books to support his wife I swear by all that is holy I will murder you in your sleep." He gulped and snapped his mouth shut, turning back to his own meal. He could always give Gajeel grief about it AFTER the baby was born. 

"Gajeel, can you hand me another biscuit please?" Again, the raven haired man complied with his tiny woman's request without breaking stride in his reading. Several people had stopped what they were doing to watch the couple. Levy had eaten almost a dozen biscuits already, on top of her breakfast of eggs and bacon. "Uhm… honey… could you make me some metal?" That one got him. Gajeel was halfway through absently making a piece of iron in the shape of a biscuit when he stopped and looked at Levy and then back at his hand.

"Shrimp, did ya seriously jus' ask me for metal?" She blushed, looking up from her own book and nodding. "I just think it sounds appetizing." He studied her face for a minute and then considered the iron he was making. "Iron is a bit tough to test if ya can eat metal, Shrimp. Lemme try somethin' else." He stuck the metal into his pocket and stood up, leaving the hall for a few minutes. He came back with an assortment of metal scraps and laid them out on the table in front of her. "Well, whatdya think? Any of this smell like somethin' ya wanna eat?" Levy set her book aside and studied the pieces, somehow oblivious to the audience they had gained. She picked up a piece of silver, and then a bit of copper, and a few of the others, turning them over in her delicate fingers, holding each up to her nose. Gajeel chuckled when she licked the copper, making a face before setting it down. "Shut up, you. This is your fault." Her growl was so cute he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing harder. 

Levy glared at him before picking up a bite-sized piece of silver again and sticking it in her mouth. She sucked on it for a moment like a hard candy before her eyes lit up and she giggled. "Yum! Can I have some more?" Tentatively biting the metal, Levy swallowed the little chunk that came off. It was then that she noticed the lack of noise in the guild and all of the eyes looking at her. "Wha-what are you all staring at?! I'm just so hungry all the time, and the baby wants weird things, and I can't help it!" She looked down at her hands, tears starting to pool in her eyes. 

Her mate growled, scowling around at everyone as he sat next to her, wrapping an arm around Levy's shoulders. He ducked his head to meet her eyes, pausing for a moment to listen to his child's heartbeat. He frowned a little as the thought crossed his mind, not for the first time, that the baby's heartbeat was a little faster than it should be. Or irregular… or something. But the hag had never said anything was wrong when she completed her check ups. "Hey, Shrimp. It's alrigh'. The books all say yer gonna wanna eat more. An' that yer gonna wanna eat weird things. I'm sure it's 'cause the dragon thing. The books ain't gonna know how t'explain that." 

"Well, you might be right there, Metal Man." The Redfoxes looked up at a clanging thunk on their table, Gajeel growling at the Seith mage who had just seated himself across from them. Bickslow had dropped a bag on the table, and was sitting with his hands clasped behind his head. Levy perked up, sniffing at the bag and reaching tentatively for it. Bickslow nodded to her as he continued. "But, you might be wrong." He had a very smug look on what they could see of his face, most of his head covered by his mask and hood. There was a faint green glow coming through the slats of his mask. "What're ya on about, freak?" Levy jabbed her elbow into Gajeel's ribs, muttering at him to stop being rude. "He brought me more silver, Gajeel. Be nice." 

"Me? Oh I'm on about nothing. Just that… well…" He leaned forward with a laugh, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as the light from his eyes grew brighter for a moment. "It could be that she's so hungry because there's two of them in there." 

April 1 

"Gajeel. GAJEEL! WAKE UP!" Gajeel came awake with a grunt, rolling to look at his tiny wife. His sleep addled brain couldn't wrap itself around the sounds coming out of her mouth, small whimpers and gasps. "Shrimp? Why're ya hunched over like that?" He glanced at the lacrima next to their bed that displayed the time. "It's one in th' mornin', woman. Go to sleep." He laid his head back down on his pillow and closed his eyes just as she groaned. Crimson eyes shot open, the Dragon Slayer shooting up off the bed. 

"NOW?!" The Script Mage nodded, unable to form words as she rubbed at her sides, her stomach hard as a rock as all of her muscles contracted and relaxed. He snatched her communication notebook, hoping someone would be awake as he flipped to the page Levy had set up for Porlyusica, Lucy, and Juvia. "BABIES! NOW! HERE!" That was the best he could manage to write before he threw the book to the side table, running to pull on some clothes. "C'mon Lev. Think we can make it to the guild?" She simply grunted, rocking a little on her perch on the edge of the bed. 

Gajeel snatched the bag that Levy had prepared weeks ago with extra clothes and things for the babies, slinging it over his shoulder. He'd just reached Levy again when Lily came in, having heard the commotion. He was in his battle form and looked between the two parents. He almost went to pick up Levy, but thought better of it. Even stressed out, or perhaps especially stressed out, Gajeel wasn't going to want anyone else to carry his laboring wife. Instead, he stepped forward to take the bag from his friend, turning to grab the notebook since it had started glowing. 

"Juvia has written an exuberant amount of hearts and exclamation points and told us she'll see you at the guild later in the morning. Mizu and Kawa had a rough night. Lucy will be at the guild by the time we get there. Porlyusica says she hates you for making her use this stupid contraption, she's been sleeping at the guild for a week anyway, and asks why you have to be so damn troublesome." With that, the exceed chuckled, closing the book and tucking it into the bag he carried before shrinking to his regular size again. It was going to be a long night, and he didn't think he should waste any more energy than was strictly necessary. 

Gajeel walked past him out of the room holding Levy, groans and occasional soft cries escaping from the tiny woman. Lily flew silently behind them until he had closed up the house, and then took off at max speed to prepare the guildhall for their arrival. He could barely contain his excitement at the prospect of nieces or nephews coming. April first. What a fitting day for Trouble to join us.

Fanfiction - https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12365324/4/ 

 @kmmcm thanks for being a doll and helping me science things. 

 @muddyevil thanks for being wonderful and amazing and inspiring me to do this in the first place.

 @capaleran2 thanks for being you and giving me ideas and critiques as I write.

 All three of you are fantastic and I couldn't do this without you.

[lenific]

OUAT - Black Fairy & Cruella

Prompt: this post.

LIKE FAIRY GODMOTHERS (EXCEPT WORSE) for @annievh​. Ao3 link

Cruella glanced over at the full-body mirror that Delilah had conjured into the living room, and rolled her eyes when her glass of whiskey was topped off at a wave of the fairy's hands, leaving her no excuse to stand up and move away for a refill. "Do you really need me to spy on the boy?" she asked, irked by her friend's behavior but not enough not to appreciate the better quality of her new drink.

Delilah scoffed. "Of course not."

Cruella hummed, tempted to point out that then it must be her company that was wanted. "So if I told you to grab your magic and take it somewhere else...?"

"You'll be disappointed you miss what comes next."

Cruella gave a long sigh. There was nothing of importance being shown in the mirror. Just the boy going about his usual business. He had chosen the guise of a pawn broker this decade, and for once it seemed that he would settle in his minuscule kingdom until faking the human lifespan proved impossible. All that power at his fingertips, and the boy never bothered to exert it. "I'm disappointed already," she muttered.

When she had decided to keep an eye on the boy, she had imagined a much brighter and infinitely more interesting future. Being raised by that low-life sweet-talker that was his father, and the powerful fairy who'd exchanged the equivalent of a hundred fortunes for a baby (and, to Cruella's credit, that had been the second best deal she'd ever made) should have pushed Rum to great heights.

Instead there he was, standing behind his work table. Hard at work with an antique watch that couldn't be a tenth of his age. He wouldn't even charge more than what was fair for it.

Cruella yawned.

"Wait for it," Delilah whispered.

Since her glass remained full no matter how many sips she took from it, Cruella decided to go along with her old friend's wish. Minutes passed, with nothing more interesting than the boy biting out a curse when a screwdriver slid off place.

And then a bell rang.

"Six o'clock, right after the library closes," Delilah said, though there was no clock in view and she hadn't shown interest in a single book - much less a library - in the last century. Then she grinned. "See? There she is!"

The spell shifted its focus to follow Rum as he exited his workroom and came to check who had entered the shop.

Cruella felt the need to pinch her nose - or better, pinch Delilah's nose, when she realized what had the fairy so excited. The girl that came into view was pretty, but beauty alone wouldn't put that eager look in the boy's eyes. Her smile, though, so obviously happy to see him too, was a better reason.

"No," she snapped, slapping Delilah's arm. "That's a bad idea."

"She is different."

"No, she isn't."

"He looks happy."

"He's looked happy before," Cruella argued, "and it only made it worse in the end. Who had to listen to him whine and moan when Milah ran away?" She shook her head just at the memory of those dark times. "Can't he at least fall for someone who won't grow old in a couple decades? I told you. I told the brat, too. Raise him as fairy. Teach him not to care about humans. But no, you and Pan had to be cute and let Rum meet humans-"

"He was supposed to discover how useless they are by himself."

"-and then Milah came in, and you and Pan ran her out-"

"Please. I borrowed a pretty sailor from Neverland and put him in her way. How is the rest of it my fault?"

Cruella gave her friend a look. If there hadn't been a lust-laced spell involved, Cruella would give up alcohol for a year. "You took away his wife," she ground out. "You and Pan laughed about it to his face. Of course he chose to continue his life among humans! Even I couldn't convince him to visit for at least half a century! And look at him now, a square trying to fit in a round hole." The scene on the mirror, with Rum curling his hands around the handle of his cane in what Cruella knew was sheer nerves, made her cringe. "He has no idea how to flirt without trying to scare her away - and he knows it."

"Fear makes for an excellent addition in a relationship."

Cruella humphed. "Says the woman who had to barter for a child."

Delilah shrugged. "That's all in the past. What matters now is that Rumpelstiltskin is happy."

On the mirror, the boy came to attention.

"You had to say his full name," Cruella groaned.

To the girl's confusion, Rum had suddenly snapped his mouth shut and straightened, all his attention suddenly on their surroundings. He slowly turned around, ignoring the girl's concerned questions, and fixed his sight on a point - staring straight back at his birth mother and fairy godmother. Then he snarled in anger, tapping his cane against the floor and sending a wave of power through the motion.

The mirror cracked, leaving nothing but a broken reflection of Cruella's living room on its surface.

"He's gotten stronger," Cruella observed.

Delilah nodded. Then she smirked. "That'll make this even more interesting."

"Why are you even interested in Rum's love life?"

The oldest of the fairies smiled. "I already had a child," she said, and her eyes sparkled with true excitement. "Now I feel like getting a grandkid. Doesn't that sound great?"

Cruella groaned.

The Black Fairy yearning for a glimpse of human feeling - the one thing her infinite powers couldn't give her - was how this mess had started. In the next seconds, Cruella thought of dozens of objections... and just as quickly gave up on voicing them. Delilah wouldn't listen to reason. Fairies never did.

(It was the one thing Rum had taken after.)

She tipped back her glass and swallowed down the contents, then quickly showed it to Delilah before the fairy magic could kick in. "I'm gonna need something stronger," she demanded.

Delilah grinned. "So you'll help?"

Cruella lifted a shoulder in a noncommittal motion. "I'll think about it."

 The End 21/01/17

[tripstations]

Forget white bloggers from Poland. How much do Pakistanis know about domestic tourism? – Prism

We don’t need to teach foreigners about Pakistan half as urgently as we need to educate Pakistanis themselves.

There has been much talk about the future of Pakistani tourism. The Pakistan Tourism Summit was held in April, criticised by many as being too exclusive and biased towards Western media and influencers.

In response, there was a brilliant video by Alex of Lost with Purpose, in which she highlighted the three main problems when we portray a solely positive media coverage of travelling in the country. She talked about restrictions on free movement, lack of representation for Pakistani travellers and the potential for serious cultural clashes between unaware tourists and the people here.

The gora complex that Alex mentioned in her video is undoubtedly a real issue. There is no question that the perspectives of travellers who arrive on sponsored visits and rave about the jagged coastlines of Pakistan’s ‘most dangerous’ province are naïve and one-dimensional.

Yet, ultimately, these are all buzzwords — goray bloggers vs. local ones, the word ‘local’ conjuring the idea of a faceless young Pakistani who can somehow represent every nook of the country, from Ranikot to Rawalakot.

This debate is superfluous when you consider the foremost fact: Pakistan is woefully unprepared for any substantial increase in tourism, be it international or domestic.

Related: Pakistan is uniquely placed to take advantage of religious tourism. What is stopping us?

During extensive travel in Gilgit-Baltistan and northern Khyber Pakhtunkhwa this year, I met dozens of people in the tourism industry who all painted a familiar narrative. Tourism was thriving up north before 9/11 and has been a ghost since. This year, however, almost everyone feels optimistic. They are seeing rising numbers of tourists, particularly domestic ones.

In Pakistan’s affluent heartlands, travel now competes with designer lawn and big weddings as a potent status symbol. The rise of social media, particularly Instagram, has made the well-angled shot of a cup of chai against snowy mountains as aspirational as candid wedding photographs lit up by fairy lights. Travel is so 2019.

There also seems to be general consensus in the north that the new government bodes better for the industry than its predecessor did. Imran Khan quickly did away with the frustrating requirement that every foreign traveller visiting GB or Azad Jammu & Kashmir carry a No Objection Certificate.

In Chitral, the government recently stopped requiring mandatory security escorts — good-natured policemen who would accompany the foreigner wherever she went, their guns jutting out against Chitral’s lush green hills as unseemly reminders of the fact that the country was, at the end of the day, a security state.

Restrictions on trekking around the Chitral mountains have been relaxed. For this year’s summer festival, the Kalash were expecting unprecedented numbers of visitors, both domestic and foreign. From Skardu to Bumburet, everyone told me that the tourists are coming.

But where will they stay? During peak season in Bumburet and Karimabad, Hunza’s tourist capital, all hotels get fully booked, with some tourists unable to find a space to set up tents for the night. According to Aneeqa Ali, who runs a Lahore-based tour company, The Mad Hatters, there is a dearth of hotel infrastructure in the north.

Luxury hotels such as the Serena are present in hub cities as well as in Shigar and Khaplu. The company has, in fact, reserved land for construction in smaller locations as well — in the future, there will likely be Serenas in the sleepy towns of Gulmit, Sost and Passu.

Yet, very few domestic tourists have the purchasing power for Serena nights. What they need are mid-range hotels that provide the necessities that all travellers except hardened backpackers expect — reliable electricity, hot water and clean sheets.

Without any centralised planning, enterprising residents of these areas have cobbled together ways to keep up with the increasing demand for housing. Everywhere along the famed Karakoram Highway, construction workers are busy trying to complete hotel buildings “before season starts”, using whatever material is available to finish the work. Some people open up their houses to guests, employing the concept of the homestay that has been popular in Southeast Asia for several years.

Read next: A journey to Bahawalpur and beyond, on the road of self discovery

Aneeqa, whose company places special emphasis on female travel, tells me that the problem with this decentralised growth is the absence of holistic planning at the local or regional levels. With hastily-constructed rest houses cropping up at every turn, there is no thematic development of areas to ensure that the new construction complements the natural landscape.

There also seems to be no requirement on rest houses to maintain a balance between residents and tourists in specific towns. “I can see Hunza becoming the next Nathiagali,” she tells me.

Ijlal Khattak of Baydaar Travels speaks of the same problem, giving the example of Naran as a paradise destroyed by overcrowding and unbridled construction. Ijlal’s company, highly popular on Instagram, specialises in tours of the Pakistani north, with an emphasis on eco-tourism. Both he and Aneeqa mention the lack of proper sewage and trash disposal facilities in major tourist hubs.

This is emblematic of the Saniplast approach the country treats its problems with — slaps one on and keeps going.

While searching for hotels in Skardu, I found only a few options on Google search and major travel sites such as Booking.com and Tripadvisor. Upon arriving in the city, however, I saw dozens of hotel options, none of which I had come across in my search.

It appears that even as the tourists of Lahore, Karachi and Peshawar use their smartphones to look up hotels, very few of the hospitality providers in the north are using technology to promote their businesses.

And how would they? Hunza hardly has electricity — a stunning fact considering how educated and progressive the region is. Skardu and Gilgit have fewer power issues, but none of Pakistan’s major networks provide internet service there. The military-owned SCOM has a monopoly on data services in the entire GB area.

While military-backed monopolies can come as a surprise only to the most naïve of us, this is frustrating on two levels. Firstly, for Pakistanis travelling in their own country, it is an infuriating hassle to have to switch services and procure a new SIM card upon entering GB. Secondly, and most importantly, even after getting a SCOM connection, one is not guaranteed connectivity. Service is paltry once you leave bigger towns and can sometimes disappear for days.

Explore: How music students in Gojal are trying to keep their culture alive

Yes, there are ways to travel without the internet. Yes, there is something romantic about walking into hotels and asking for availability, bringing to mind the neon “Vacant” signs of old-school American motels. Not being able to tell Facebook you are checking in at the Khunjerab Pass can be a blessing.

Yet, around the world, shifting travel patterns mean that more and more people opt to travel independently instead of with tour companies. If we want to enable tourists to explore the beauty of Pakistan beyond the biggest cities, is imperative that we have the technology to enable this. Independent travellers, those who want to use public transport and eat at restaurants beyond their hotel’s dining hall, need good internet.

This is symptomatic of one of the largest problems of the industry — an information gap between providers and clients that can sometimes seem insurmountable. We faced this gap in Bahawalpur, a city with an illustrious history of Sufi scholarship, Buddhist and Hindu influence and Nawab patronage. Due to its proximity to India and the presence of a huge cantonment area, the city is entirely out-of-bonds for foreigners.

However, this critical piece of information is not mentioned on the website of the Ministry of Interior, nor on any online hotel listings. We found out only at 10pm one night when my husband, a foreign national, tried to check in at a hotel after a full day of sightseeing. Within a few minutes, there were uniformed policemen standing in the lobby, telling us cheerfully but firmly that we had to spend the night at a police guesthouse and leave the next morning.

From Gilgit, I decided to take the Northern Areas Transport Corporation (Natco) bus across the regional border into Chitral. I asked five different people —hotel owners, wagon drivers, tour operators and Natco officials — whether the famed Shandur Pass was open. I received five different answers:

Yes, it was open. No, it was going to open after May 1st. It was open but one of the buses for the route had broken down, disrupting schedule.

I finally boarded a bus at the end of April, full of disbelief that there could be so much confusion about one of the major routes of the region, run by the government itself.

As the bus made its way into KPK, we began our descent from snowy mountaintops. It was after maghrib and I sat with a clenched jaw as the bus tumbled down a road so narrow the edge was invisible. Every now and then, a young Chitrali construction worker who was working for the Skardu-Gilgit road expansion project would jump off the bus and use an old shovel to dig into the mountain. Then, he would hop back in and the bus would continue down the newly-expanded road, the only major artery connecting northern KPK.

Also read: A road trip with my mother where women ‘cannot go alone’

If the government is serious about promoting tourism in these areas, it needs to improve the abysmal road infrastructure throughout the region. The people there will be the first beneficiaries — currently, it takes one six hours from Phander to travel 100 kilometres to visit family in KPK. The road between Skardu and Gilgit is a nightmare, although work is underway to make it wider. Roads in Chitral that service the three Kalash valleys are in terrible condition, making inter-valley movement lengthy and cumbersome.

The result is that most tourists never leave the most popular valley of Bumburet, which is fast becoming a menagerie of badly constructed hotels and souvenir shops.

Big city media continues to wring its hands over the appropriations of foreign bloggers, questioning their right to tell stories, insisting that the experiences of travel of Pakistanis are much more complex and “real”.

Yet, my travel through the north of Pakistan taught me that this attention, despite its good intentions, is ill-targeted. If there is any group of travellers that the northern tourism industry has a love-hate relationship with, it’s not random white travellers from Poland. It’s the non-local locals.

Tourists from Punjab, Karachi and the KPK heartland (Peshawar, Mardan and Mingora) form the largest proportion of visitors and revenues to these areas. The industry recognises that these are the people who kept coming even when the foreigners disappeared after 9/11.

Discover: How I travelled to 20 countries in four years on a Pakistani passport

These are the people who will always come — to spend a weekend away when Peshawar begins to swelter, on a group retreat from Karachi’s madness, for a class trip from Lums or King Edwards.

They will bring their families because they don’t think, as the average Western traveller does, that Pakistan is a backpacking destination, fit only for the young and untethered. A hotel owner in Phander laughed as he told me that his most prized guests were always Punjabis. “They eat well”, he understated.

The future of Pakistani tourism is Pakistanis. Certainly, it is nice to cultivate a friendlier image abroad and international tourism can bring much good to the country. Yet, hotel owners and restaurateurs up north know that with the country’s logistical difficulties and constantly precarious security situation, the one stable source of income they can rely on is not dollars or euros, but rupees from down south.

While recognising this group of tourists as their primary clientele, many in the hospitality industry also complain about their attitudes to travel.

There have been several incidents of male travellers harassing women in Hunza and Chitral. All northern festivals end with grounds covered in litter and food waste, mostly left by travel groups from the south.

All towns up north have been overtaken by the karahi effect — the omnipresence of Punjabi food on every menu. I remember being seated next to a well-heeled group of Karachiites at a restaurant in Karimabad. They were all staying at the Serena and had come to the restaurant to get a ‘local’ flavour.

After hearing the headwaiter meticulously explain each Hunza dish on the menu and exclaiming, “that sounds wonderful, na” in posh accents, they ordered eight karahis for the table. The waiter begged them to at least try chapshuro, a much-loved specialty. They agreed to get one for the table to share.

Check out: When water at Tarbela recedes, Bharukot Fort emerges to reveal an eventful history spanning centuries

We don’t need to teach foreigners about Pakistan half as urgently as we need to educate Pakistanis themselves. People travelling to the north should treat the trip as something more than a respite from the heat and a backdrop for Instagram shots. There are people living there, with complex histories, unique languages and a food culture that grew out of completely different necessities than the southern plains and plateaus.

Yes, the karahi doesn’t taste the way it does in Anarkali, but if you wanted karahi you should have never left Anarkali.

Despite the teetering economy, we will likely continue to see a boom in intra-country tourism over the next few years. Saba Akbar, an architect and prolific solo traveller behind The Local Trails, predicts the same, crediting the rise of social media to an upcoming exponential increase in tourism. “When that happens”, she says, “we need to be ready for it”.

It is important that both the government and tourists recognise that this boom in numbers itself is not a mark of success. Even in the best of circumstances, tourism inflicts damage on the environment and the hosting cultures. Unless we can channel this growth to directly benefit the people of these areas and protect their homes from irreversible harm, it will never be worth it.

Header photo: S.M.Bukhari

Do you have a critical take on tourism promotion? Share your views with us at prism@dawn.com

The post Forget white bloggers from Poland. How much do Pakistanis know about domestic tourism? – Prism appeared first on Tripstations.

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[musingmonkee]

Antioch

At my day job, I literally sat around for four and a half hours. Wednesdays are typically pretty slow for delivery services, but “slow” usually means I only do one trip per hour, not nothing at all for several hours. I couldn’t help thinking of all the other things I could be taking care of: going to physical therapy for my shoulder, writing some pages on one of the four scripts I’m working on, laundry.

I wished I had at least remembered to bring the book I am reading about William and Elizebeth Friedman. They were codebreakers, self-taught, who basically pioneered our national intelligence agencies. When I left off, Elizebeth was working for the Coast Guard helping to catch rum-runners during Prohibition. The bootleggers had broadcast their instructions over the radio using code words and phrases, and Elizebeth had been able to figure out their entire scheme. She had just testified in open court against some pretty powerful mafiosi, and the author hinted multiple times that Elizebeth would soon be in danger.

Finally, in the last half hour of my shift, I was sent to pick up two separate orders. The first one was pretty small, only three bags and a half rack of Sierra Nevada pale ale. The second one, though, was a pretty large order - at least a dozen heavy bags, plus two cases of water and a half dozen 12-packs of soda. And a case of Bud Light. 

“Who drinks Bud Light?” I thought. Just the idea of it gives me a headache. 

Most customers, unless they are elderly or in some way disabled, eagerly come out to my car to help bring their groceries inside. Then, after confirming delivery with a signature, they typically hand me a few dollars as a tip.

The Bud Light woman, though, simply stood in the doorway and watched me. She did offer a polite “thank you” for each set of bags I set at her feet, but that was all. Literally. 

I don’t ever actually expect a tip, even though it is the bulk of a delivery driver’s income, and even though customers are fully aware of how little people in my position actually make once expenses are factored in. But I know that if I start expecting a tip, it will affect my attitude about what I’m doing, and I don’t want to be a dick to people. 

I did expect a tip from the Bud Light woman, though. Her attitude conveyed an “I’ll just pay for it” view of the world, whether “it” was having her grass cut or having her groceries delivered to her doorstep. When she didn’t even offer a perfunctory couple of bucks, I felt betrayed. 

Afterwards, I went straight to my night job instead of stopping home to take a nap first like I usually do. My first stop was a young Black woman getting off work whom I picked up from her office building. Our conversation led to the subject of Stephon Clark, the young man who a few weeks ago had been gun downed by local police despite being unarmed. She told me that she had very little sympathy for what had happened to Clark.

“My father was a criminal” she explained, “and he said that he [Clark] was a stupid criminal so he deserved what he got.” 

I did not give in to curiosity and ask, “Really? In what way was your father ‘a criminal’? What did he do?” 

Instead I said, “Well, I still don’t think he should’ve been shot to death just for vandalizing cars.”

She replied that no, of course that wasn’t okay, and that the whole thing was a tragedy. She said she’d heard on the news that even the guy who originally called the police because someone was breaking into his car felt incredibly guilty for Clark’s death; that if he had known the police were going to respond the way they did, the guy wouldn’t have called them. But she still thought that Clark was stupid. 

My next pick-up was an older Vietnamese couple who spoke very little English. Their daughter had first phoned me to confirm that I would be okay taking them all the way to Antioch, which I was (delighted actually), thinking of the large fare. 

The ride to Antioch was pretty quiet. The woman spoke only enough to convey that the music I was listening to quietly in the front was pleasant and didn’t bother them. The man said nothing. 

My GPS, as it usually does when I’m going that way, sent me around the delta on the much smaller state highways rather than the major, more direct interstate route. It makes for a more interesting drive, landscape-wise, but the delta route, with its single-lane roads and lower speed limits, can also take longer to get there. Since it was still very much rush hour on the interstate, I didn’t see that it made much of a difference which route I took. Even if it was technically longer going around the delta, at least we would be in constant motion, which we most certainly wouldn’t be in taking the interstate. And the couple seemed to have no objection - at least they didn’t make any sort of indication that I was “going the wrong way”. 

There were several places along the way that I wished I could’ve pulled over and snapped some photos - the wind farm, for example. Dozens of high-tech, wind-powered turbines that still have a very futurist design dominate the bright green countryside. Sometimes sheep or cows or goats graze peacefully among them. It’s as if Christina’s World had been painted by Robert Heinlein. 

The Vietnamese couple’s home was in an older but common style of housing development. As I pulled up, I found that I couldn’t stop directly in front of the house due to there being three or four old, white vans - the kind with the double doors in the middle instead of a single, sliding one - parked in front of it. There were also two more cars parked in the driveway. I wondered if the vans belonged to their household, then wondered why, with so many vehicles, none of their owners had offered to come and collect the couple. 

As the man and woman got out of my car and thanked me politely for the ride, I noticed through their open garage door that there were several large, black leather sofas. These were huge and shiny, and really stood out against the white and grey color palette of the garage, bathed in the glare of fluorescent lighting. The sofas were simultaneously completely out place and not at all unusual. 

On my way back I stopped in to visit some theatre friends during their rehearsal for A Funny Little Thing Called Love. The play is a series of vignettes about different ways people fall in love, or rather try to. My friend “Jack” is directing the play and “Jill” will be in two of its scenes. After first greeting my friends, I sat quietly in a seat next to Jack, who was making notes as his actors ran the first scene. 

The most noticeable thing about community theatre is that, while many people may have a decent level of acting talent, very few actually “look like an actor”. Sure, there is the occasional beautiful young ingenue or fresh-faced leading man with the acting chops to match, but eventually even they are overtaken by middle age and start to blend into the rest of the company. 

As I watched the actors work through their blocking up on stage, my primary thought was “What a wholly unattractive group”. One of the women, who was past the sell-by date for the airy-fairy “peace and love” persona she presented, I was sure smelled like patchouli, cigarettes, and feet. Her flat leather sandals slapped across the plywood stage as she stormed off in disgust, which really took the bite of her character’s anger. 

The second woman I’d first met when she was a cute young character player, the one who was always cast as the “sassy secretary” or “flirty waitress”. She had and still has flaming red hair. I’d seen her in several of the company’s productions, but she hadn’t done any of their recent shows. I’d always thought she had an inordinately large head, but in the time since I’d seen her last, her weak jawline had finally been overtaken by her growing double chin. She now looked like a walking human thumb with hair. I felt bad for her. After all, she can’t help having a weak chin; and what’s she supposed to do, never look down? 

I then tried to calculate the amount of suspension of disbelief that would be required for me to accept that the third actor, a middle-aged man with his belly hanging out from under the front of his shirttails, is a three-timing Lothario whom each of the three women he is dating agree to keep seeing as long as he ditches the other two. 

“He has to know” I later told my Bestie, who is also friends with these actors. “How can he not? How can he just... walk around like that??”

On my drive back, I recognized how judgmental I was being. Still, there just isn’t any un-awkward way to tell someone that everyone can see their gut hanging out, so it remains the person’s own responsibility to keep track of it. When they don’t it’s somehow insulting to the rest of us.

“Take that, sartorial common sense! And you too, public at large!”