#if you need to reach me check my LJ

[lilgryffindorprincess]

Edelweiss, Edelweiss

Every morning you greet me

Small and white clean and bright

You look happy to meet me

Blossom of snow, may you bloom and grow

Bloom and grow forever

Edelweiss, Edelweiss

Bless my homeland forever

[kumkaniudaku]

Requesting Fear 14 “Just stay on the phone with me, please?” With Terry Richmond, please?

“I’m here on the scene downtown and there appears to be some sort of…anomaly in the sky. We haven’t been able to decipher what it is yet but - oh my God. Oh my God! What is that?” 

Sounds from the television in the other room had long retreated to the recesses of Terry’s mind as he barreled through the house in search of supplies. Generator? Check. Gas cans? Got it. Weapons? On deck. 

His cell phone rested between his neck and shoulder while he collected additional bullets and blades from the hidden pantry beneath the carefully concealed back entrance in the kitchen. He couldn’t be too safe or too prepared. What he could be was frustrated once his call went unanswered for the second time. 

“This voicemailbox is full. Hang up an-”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He chanted to himself as he filled a tackle box with shotgun rounds. “Pick up, Layla. Pick up!” 

“Dad, what’s going on?” 

Terry’s heart lept into his throat from the startle of his son’s raspy voice. His body temperature spiked. Stress sweat made his armpits burn. His eyes darted between the gun in his hand and Benji’s worried expression. 

“We gotta go, buddy. Remember what I told you?” 

Benji blinked and nodded. “That one day we’d have to leave because people would come here to hurt us?” 

“Exactly. It's that time. Get your bag. Don’t grab anything extra. Be back down here in two minutes. We don’t have a lot of time.” 

“Where’s Mom?” 

“I don’t know, bud. I’m trying to find her. Just, please, go get your things.” 

“But we can’t leave without Mom!” 

“BENJAMIN!” Terry’s voice boomed as frustration and worry began to gnaw at his racing mind. He quickly took a deep breath before approaching Benjamin to get eye-level with the scared child. He reached out to wipe a fresh tear from his cheek. “I didn’t mean to yell, but son, we gotta go. Cooperate with me, okay? Get your things. I’ll find your mother. I would never leave without her, you know that.” 

“You promise?” 

“On my life. Never.” 

Benji accepted his father’s promise without a word, choosing to remain quiet and do as he was told. 

Terry watched until his son was out of sight before taking a deep breath. He had to find her. Not just for Benjamin. He had to find her because he wasn’t sure if he could continue living if she didn’t walk through the door. They’d prepped and planned for the inevitable for years. He needed Layla more than anything. 

Rushing back to his phone, Terry frantically pressed her name in his contact list. 

One ring. A second ring. A third. Four. 

“Layla don’t do this to me. Answer!” 

A brief pause stopped the agonizing ringing on the other line and connected them. Terry gasped for the air he didn’t know he was dying for as he listened for her voice to greet him.

Screaming erupted on Layla’s end of the phone. Then panting. Rustling indicated that she may be running but she said no words to hint at her status.

“LJ! LJ, are you there?” Nothing. Only quickening pants and deep breathing in what sounded like a mad dash to escape. “LJ, say something!” 

Silence greeted him until she was able to breathe out a barely audible whisper. “Terry, leave the house. Take Benjamin and go. Don’t wait for me. I won’t make it in time.” 

“Don’t say that. I can buy some time. We’re far enough out.” 

“No. Leave. I’ll meet you. 50 miles southwest, just like we planned.” 

“Where are you? I’ll come to you right now.” 

A blood-curdling scream rang out in Layla’s background, so loud that Terry was forced to pull the phone away from his ear until the screaming was cut abruptly. Layla sniffled before answering. 

“50 miles southwest at the water tower. The key for the well-hatch is buried in the thicket to the right. I’ll knock twice so you know it’s me. I gotta go.” 

Terry cursed to himself as he gathered supplies and made his way out of the pantry. “Please, just stay on the phone with me. Please.” 

“I gotta go, baby. Kiss Benji for me. If I’m not there by tomorrow afternoon…make sure you tell him how much I love him.” 

“Layla.” 

“I love you, Terry. Bye.” 

Once Layla ended the call, the dial tone’s dull buzz sounded like a sick taunt to Terry. He closed his eyes to compose himself while he wished away the tears prickling his eyeballs. 

Benji’s light footsteps and quiet question brought him back to the present quicker than he wanted. “She’s not coming, is she? We have to leave without her?” 

“She’ll meet us,” Terry answered attempting to sound confident. “Don’t worry about Mom. She’ll meet us like how we planned. C’mon. Grab the water from the garage and put it in the car for me. Can you do that?” 

Benjamin honored his father’s wishes with a solemn nod and disappeared to complete his task. 

As much as he wanted to scream to the ceiling, Terry couldn’t force the sound up his throat and past his lips. Instead, he slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and stood up a little straighter. He collected the tackle box in his right hand, then grabbed the royal purple duffle by his feet. He couldn't leave room for doubt and what-if's.

She'd need fresh clothes when she met them at that water tower 50 miles southwest.

[brights-place]

Creepypasta Incorrect Quotes #10

Jane, next to a CPR dummy: Everyone, we need to pump at a pace of 100 beats per minute. A good trick is to pump to the tune of Staying Alive by the Bee Gees. Do you know that song?

BEN: Yes! I love that song. First I was afraid, I was petrified.~

Jane: N-no, it's: “uh, uh, uh, uh, stayin' alive, stayin' alive”.

BEN pumping the dummy’s chest: Uh, uh, uh, uh, stayin' alive, stayin' alive-

LJ, joining in: Uh, uh, uh, uh, stayin' alive, stayin' alive!~ Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk!~ I'm a woman's man, no time to talk!~

Sally: *gets up and starts dancing*

BEN and LJ: Music loud, women warm!~ Been kicked around since I was born!~ Well, it's all right, it's okay!~ You can look the other way-

Jane: O-okay, okay!

BEN and LJ: *incoherent noises that are supposed to ressemble the lyrics*

Jane: Okay, yeah- You didn’t maintain a 100 beats per minute, and the ambulance didn’t arrive because nobody called 911. So you lost them.

Jeff: Okay. They’re dead. Anyone know what we do next? Anybody?

Sally: We bury them!

Jeff: Wrong. EHH. Check for an organ donor card. If they have one, we only have minutes to harvest.

EJ: They have no wallet, I checked.

Jane: What-?

Toby: They are an organ donor!

Jeff, pulls out a knife out of his hoodie pocket: They are!? Get me some ice and a styrofoam bucket. Here we go!

*everyone just stares as he stabs the dummy*

Jeff reaching into the dummy aggressively: We search for the organs. Where’s the heart? The precious heart-

Lulu: I’m not feeling well, I need to sit down.

Sally: Lulu, are you okay-

Jane: OH MY GOD, JEFF!

*everyone turns and reacts at Jeff wearing the cut off face of the dummy; Lulu faints*

[in-my-loki-feels]

10, 34, 63, 64, 67, and 74

10. Cltr+f "blinks/blinked" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up.

As Don was checking the straps one last time, Loki walked over. Don turned, then blinked in surprise when Loki reached out to wipe up the smear with his thumb. He transferred it to Don’s cheek, rubbing until it disappeared.

34. Five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer? Damn. I guess if my general despair about the state of the publishing industry hasn't swallowed me, I'd like to have at least one published book. Traditionally published would check off a dream of mine but I'd be happy with self-publishing. Either way, I'd like to have found "my people", however many that may be. (And I'd also still be writing fanfic, if I'm honest. I really love connecting to a community through fic.)

63. Something you hate to see in smut. I'm trying to think of something that wouldn't yuck someone's yum because everyone's tastes are different. I guess continuity errors? I hate being thrown out of a really good scene because someone has a third hand, or the characters seemingly teleport between two sentences.

64. Something you love to see in smut. Kink negotiation! I find communication in all forms sexy AF so I love to see the whole range of it in smut, whether it's an explicit discussion beforehand, or checking in during. Not every scene needs it, but I do love to see it.

67. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas? I think I like both. I wrote a lot for LJ kink memes back in the day and I find it really satisfying to "meet the brief", so to speak. I also really enjoy writing from art prompts, like in a reverse big bang, but in those scenarios I had a choice. I could write for what spoke to me. If someone gave me a prompt that didn't click, I'd have trouble writing it. That's why I've hesitated to participate in Fandom Trumps Hate. I'm worried that if someone bid on me and requested something that didn't inspire me, I'd be in a tough spot.

I also enjoy writing for my own ideas, of course, of which I have many.

74. You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it? (Is President Loki involved? lol) I don't know how to describe it, but I think my writing has a tone that would give me away. It's very "genre fiction". I also think I might use certain phrases or descriptions in more than one fic, but I don't want to list them and have anyone notice if they didn't before. (please don't tell if you have noticed, haha)

Plus, I tend to write a lot of tropes/themes that would probably give me away: found family, reunions, communication (especially after angst).

Thank you for the ask! <3 (From this game.)

[filet-o-feelings]

Fic Origin Story

tagged by @stereopticons @smallumbrella369 and @jesuisici33

What was your first fandom (reading and/or writing)?

I'm fairly certain the first fics I read were Hanson (I remember a fic specifically with a lot of Phil Collins references???), and the first fandom I wrote for and made friends in was Good Charlotte. I have thankfully since moved on from RPF. The first non-RPF fandom I read fic for was Sherlock, briefly, but I didn't write anything.

What was the first story you ever wrote (even if it was never posted) and what made you decide to write it?

Uhh I don't remember and I don't want to dig through my livejournal accounts (I started new LJs constantly lol) trying to find it, but it was probably a GC Billy/Benji. I'm guessing my reason for writing it was that I wanted to make the pretty band boys kiss. The first fic I specifically remember was for The Used/Mest crossover about Quinn mysteriously showing up in town with no memory after waking up in a cave(???) and it was my first serious attempt at a chapter fic and I never finished it and that still haunts me.

What’s a piece of advice you would give to your younger fic-writing self?

Just keep writing!

What’s an early fandom interaction that stuck with you (be it a nice comment, a friend you made, a fic that got a lot of feedback etc.)?

Wayyyy back in the LJ days, I made so many friends, including a few I've met in real life and am still friends with. The comments were (and continue to be!) always so fun and encouraging.

More recently, because I feel like Schitt's Creek is the first fandom I've really immersed myself in, I think just how immediately I was accepted into the fandom despite being very late to the party. Specifically, I remember @stereopticons always including me in ask games from the start and offering to beta when I was new and had no idea what I was doing and crying out for help in tumblr. Also @treluna4 yelling with me about my fic when I was feverishly writing Further North and desperately needed to yell about it. But honestly, every kudos and comment made (and makes!) me so happy and made me want to keep writing. I will never stop screaming about how amazing and welcoming this fandom is on the whole.

Post a sentence or two from one of your older fics, and a sentence or two from a newer one (if you want).

Okay I found one of my old LJ accounts and actually came across the aforementioned amnesia fic, so here's a bit from that:

“Yeah I’m sure, and you’re not an inconvenience. Like I said before, don’t worry. We’ll talk in the morning.” Matt said sternly, making sure the blonde knew that he wasn’t in the way. He didn’t want to create any more worries for him, he surely had enough on his mind. Ironic that forgetting just about everything on one’s mind will only create seemingly more on the mind. Erased memories become worry and fear and millions of thoughts racing to fill up the empty space. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” Matt added before leaving his room and closing the door behind him.

As for something newer, from Everything's Too Cold... But You're So Hot:

They round a corner and the man, after quickly checking over his shoulder, pulls him down an alley before pressing him against a wall and covering Patrick’s mouth with a hand adorned with several wide, silver rings. Patrick thinks briefly that the combination of warm skin and cool metal has no right to feel this nice against his mouth, but then the man’s face is tucked into his neck and his mouth is inches away from his ear and Patrick can’t help but shiver when the hot breath reaches his skin and he registers the words moments after they’ve been spoken: “My name is David and I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend. Please, trust me.” 

Too tired to tag. If you haven't been tagged and want to do this, please do!

[sgtjamesrogers]

one line, any fic!

tagged by @novasforce :)

some no pressure tags for- @marnz, @dicktective, @shhhenanigans, @fromcainwithlove, @transhorrors, @antagonistenthusiast, and @spector27.

pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the mid point, pick a line, and share it! Then tag 10 people.

i'm only slightly afraid to revisit some of these. and i probably will not do all ten, because some of these don't need to be looked at again.

MASOCHIST - published to lj (!!) in 2010, ao3 in 2011.

"So, this is your big idea of fun? Sitting in the humidity watching snot noised brats play on dangerous metal playground equipment? I think you have the mistaken impression that because I foolishly told you my sob story last night in a fit of insanity that I secretly adore things like frolicking kittens and sparkly vampires."

"Like there's anything actually fun that you'd rather be doing," Luke tossed back at him, making a dismissive noise at him with a crooked grin. 

"I'd rather be having a drink," Reid says in an undertone, resisting the urge to put his head in his hands, feeling a dull ache building behind his eyes.

TO LOVE A BEAST - published to lj for the lurebigbang in 2010.

And then there’s the gentlest of touches through his hair, long nails just lightly skimming his scalp. That’s so nice that Luke makes a contented little noise, burrowing back into the arm that supported him. The arm the supported him. Luke sat straight up, suddenly wide awake. Reid’s arms still held the position Luke had been lying, almost across his lap, supported by one arm like a child. He looks at Luke a little sheepishly, letting his arms fall into his lap.

QUALITY PROGRAMMING FOR CHILDREN 101 - first fic published only to ao3 in 2011.

“Jack, we talked about this.”

“No, you talked about this, using your patented long winded, ‘beat around the bush and also my head’ style of conversation, all I did was grunt noncommittally when you finally finished,” Jack responded with a smile at Eliot as he clapped along, and generally had the time of his two year old life. It was almost enough to make David feel guilty about outlawing Barney, except when he looked back at the tv and saw the wide moving mouth and crazily spinning eyes, and nope, absolutely no regrets.

SAME OLD LANG SYNE - published very, very pre-catws, if you can believe it.

The Soldier is gone now, but this man who wears James's skin, he's still not Steve's Bucky either. He no longer has the urgent need to dispatch with Captain America at any means necessary, but neither does he retain any of the memories before that long and terrible fall. It ties Steve in knots that Bucky doesn't even remember his own favorite color, or how he liked his burger cooked, or the way he used to wake Steve back in their Brooklyn; yanking the blanket off him with a mischievous grin and pulling him by his ankles to the end of the bed, where he'd meet Steve's grumbling mouth with his own. 

A BEAST OF BURDEN. - published 2013.

"Fuck it," he says finally, ripping his side of the blankets off of himself and stalking over to the door and slinging the door open hard enough for it to bounce back off of the wall protector. The kitten automatically scurries in, leaping up onto the bed of the bed, and Louis follows it like he's approaching the gallows. He flops face down into bed, and falls almost immediately asleep.

When he wakes up, sleep grit in his eyes and mouth and reaches over to check the time the lockscreen of his phone is himself, asleep with Audrey Hepburn perched on top of his head, but that's honestly par for the course at this point.

KEEP BURNING ME UP (WITH ALL OF YOUR LOVE) - published 2014

"But you don't have paprika," she says, eyes closed.

"I have paprika," he groans, like he knows what's going to come out of her mouth next.

"But not real paprika," Barbara answers with a satisfied smile, as if that settles it.

SHOULD'VE BEEN HOME YESTERDAY - published 2/2020, in progress.

The lamp is tragically grotesque, with four taxidermied mice holding miniature instruments clustered around the stem leading upward under the lampshade; a splash picture of a mountain range. Roy thinks that one of the mice has a mustache. 

“But wait, look—“ 

Roy gave the pull chain a tug, and a muffled speaker hidden on the base plays a tinny ‘ Born To Be Wild ’ by Steppenwolf. He grins at Jason’s immediate revulsion; it’s almost cartoonish in the pout of his mouth as Roy sings along tunelessly, using the purple gatorade in his fist as a mic. 

AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD? - published 6/2022

“I… can’t get over how good your quads are, dude,” Chris whispered finally, clearing his throat. “You could really crush somebody’s head between these.” Adrian slid back down over Chris’ hips, beaming. 

FOR THE LONGEST TIME - published 10/2022, in progress.

With the pack safely in his back pocket again he crouches and curls one firm hand around the back of Hughie’s neck, kissing him sweet and deep. 

“See? You wanna taste like that every day?” 

Their lips brush as Butcher speaks, and Hughie feels his body starting to light up again. 

“Mmmmaybe?” He sighs out, just barely opening his eyes and giving Butcher a malevolent grin. “You better kiss me again so I can be sure.” 

[madlymine]

Episode 10 - Recap

We finally reached the end T-T/ I'm OVER THE MOON it's over *sobs in relief* Special thanks to @onaji_sora on LJ for subbing this drama *comforts in CAPS*

♠ MAIN CHARACTERS: Aono the ghost (ML) Yuri the airhead (FL) Fuju the victim (ML's best friend) Mio the horror-enthusiast (FL's best friend)

♠ EP10: Yuri keeps running into a loop of halls (seems like a hallucinations) while following her ghost. Then a phone call from Mio, makes her snap back to reality. Mio tells her that she called because she was worried when the school chat was exploding about what happened in her classroom. Mio also tells her that she is happy for Yuri because she got to see Aono again. Their conversation turns to speaker mode, when Fuju appears and he tells them about "the REAL conversation between him and Aono, before he disappeared."

Aono tells his friend that he wants to go to a FAR AWAY place and needs him to lie to Yuri and tell her he passed on. & that he tried to pass on but couldn't figure out how. He tried but couldn't and that was after Yuri got a nosebleed and fainted.

Fuju remembers the kiss and SNAPS & we find out why he was severely traumatized by it.

F: "what the hell were you doing getting aroused in someone else's body?!" A: "it was in the moment... sorry." F: "in the moment?" A: "I thought you wouldn't be aware of it." F: "you mean it's okay if I didn't know about it? you've got to be kidding! I remember all of it! your disgusting behavior." A: "disgusting!" F: "it was disgusting! it was like an old man who is kissing a girl he was paying to date! don't put your left hand under her chest! I had a boob between the L shape of my thumb and pointer finger! that dirty way of touching without thinking and making excuses later, shows how small minded your personality is! on top of that, while touching her with your left hand, your right hand...."

Aono stops him from explaining further by apologizing on his knees. F: "I'll never forgive you. Idiot."

WELL. Aono goes back to explaining that his "far away" is not really far because he seems to be linked with Yuri. He can't move further than the town's station. He simply plans to stay away from her and be out of her sight.

[Back to the present] Yuri asks Fuju to take her to meet Aono in his hiding place (a mountain behind the school). Mio accompanies them by staying on the phone. On the way, Fuju tells Yuri that he promised to check on him once a week by using the coin trick.

Along the way, Fuju jumps over a tree-trunk on their path and then extends his hand to help Yuri cross over. SUDDENLY, strong wind blows and Fuju covers his face, then opens his eyes to find himself standing alone.

[alternative universe with weird colors] Yuri gets swept away but she is still on the phone with Mio. She describes her surroundings and the flowers that bloomed around her, which weren't there a minute ago. They try turning the call to video call but it doesn't work. Mio gets a call from Fuju through an app on her computer. But when Mio puts both her friends on speaker mode, Fuju can't hear Yuri's voice.

Mio thinks that Yuri got pulled into the spirits world.

Demonic-voice: "Yuri-chaaan~ Yuri-chaaaN~" Yuri: "Aono is calling." Mio: "he can't do anything without your permission. it's all up to you." Yuri: "He looked sad. he can't help but be here alone. I never considered his feelings. I want to meet him." Mio: "be careful."

Yuri continues walking towards the voice to find blank-faced-Aono.

A: "I waited." M: "did you find him?" A: "hang up the phone." Y: "I won't." A: "why won't you listen. hang up. hang up. hang up." Y: "I won't!"

Half of Aono's face turns demonic again and he says while tears fall from his eyes: "I'm cold" Yuri touches his bloody-sided-face.

A: "kiss me." Y: "deep down I thought that if I sacrificed myself to you, you'd be happy. but Aono wouldn't want that."

Yuri removes her hand and says: "that's why I came to have you return it to me. please return the kiss I gave you. one kiss from when we were in front of Mio's house. another one from when we were in the gym. I can't give you anything. so give it back."

A: "don't wanna!" Y: "give me my hair color back!" A: "no way!" Y: "give everything I gave you back to me!"

He complies anyways... He kisses her right feet, left hand and then her lips (just like she kissed him before).

Aono's face returns to normal and he smiles to her.

A: "Yuri." Y: "Aono, welcome back." A: "Sorry for lying." Y: "I'm the one who made you lie. I won't try to die anymore. Even if you pass on, no matter how lonely I am, or how painful it is, I won't die. I'll grow old and live until the day I die."

Then she hugs him.

Fuju finds her, smiles and says: "Aono." Then Yuri runs to Fuju's side and the three walk together into the future or whatever.

[at Mio's house] Y: "I can't offer him anything. that's the fundamental rule. each permission worked as an offering that made Aono's power grow stronger. therefore, by returning what I gave him, his powers got weakened." F: "he didn't turn your hair back to black. but let's head home." Y: "thank you both for everything."

[in class] Aono the ghost is still hovering around Yuri. He will eventually find a way to pass on but for now, he is with her. He helped her make 2 supportive friends and that is enough for her.

[on the way home] A: "I'm glad I met you." Y: "I love you so much."

𝙡𝙖 𝙛𝙞𝙣.

a year ago

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuoki Character Drama CD Book Vol 3 - Kazama

This is my last post of the month, but if you can, please consider donating to the Canadian Red Cross to help those impacted by Hurricane Fiona, as the Federal Government will be matching donations for at least the next three weeks.

Also, as of now... for some reason, my package still hasn’t shipped despite how I put the order in on Monday. I’m guessing the bad weather in Japan might have impacted operations? Regardless, if it reaches me after the 29th but before October 6, it’s more likely that I’ll write about the availability of rips on the hakumyu LJ first since I do not post between the last thursday of a month and the first of the following one.

Anyway, I was honestly thinking about translating the Shimabara Disturbance drama instead of these character dramas... but I didn’t feel like looking up the video for said drama to fix the tl I have. It literally has sections where the translator put in “orz” since they weren’t entirely sure of what was being said... and i still don’t feel like not procrastinating to fill in those sections hahahaaaa... *sigh.*

enjoy! This one picks up after the end of the main Kazama route!

Hakuoki Character Drama CD Book Vol 3 - Kazama Chikage-hen “Joyful Spring Trip [literally spring positive feelings trip]“

Translation by KumoriYami

Act 1

Location: Chizuru's home (Edo)

Time: morning

Yukimura: Well, that should be about everything

【I'm leaving here today, so I got up a bit earlier than normal. After packing up all of my luggage and checking around, the house was completely empty. Today I'm leaving this home full of memories. And after this... I'll be starting a new life in a new place with the one I love——】

Yukimura; Ah, it should almost be time to call Kazama-san to leave.

SE: footsteps

SE: sound of a door opening

【After entering the room, I found that Kazama-san was also ready.】

Kazama: What is it? Is there something wrong?

Yukimura: Good morning... You've sorted out all the luggage by yourself.

【It seems that Kazama-san was already completely prepared for our trip, and ready to go at any time. Soon, I will go together with him to a village where oni live. Kazama-san glanced at me who had changed my clothes and asked me calmly.】

Kazama: There you are, it appears that you are ready.

Yukimura: Yes, [everything from the] house and luggage are all packed.

Kazama: What luggage are you bringing? In any case, am I also part of your "luggage"?

Yukimura:...I didn't mean that, I was referring to the necessary luggage to carry.

Kazama: There shouldn't be anything in particular that is needed, what have you prepared?

Yukimura: Ah, medicine for abdominal pain, medicine for injuries, also medicine to reduce fever and relieve fever... because you see, you can't be sure that you won't get sick/feel unwell during this trip, right?

Kazama; Hmph, an oni's body might collapse, you truly have said something amusing. Well, hopefully it will be useful.

Yukimura: Yes, is it almost time to go?

Kazama:....Are you ready to go?

Yukimura: Yes, it's fine.... Let's go, Kazama-san.

【I nodded in response to Kazama-san's question. He gazed at my face for a moment, and asked for verification.】

Kazama: Truly... is it okay?

Leaving here, to travel where the oni clan live [the tl is basically oni inhabited lands here]... you will no longer be able to return to Edo again. Abandoning this land that you've been accustomed to and the people you are close to follow me to be at my side from now on, have you come to this resolution?

Yukimura: As I told you before, I've already made up my mind to live together with you.

【I looked straight into Kazama-san's eyes to convey my determination. Kazama-san quickly smiled.】

Kazama: That's fine then... let's go.

Yukimura: Yes!

SE: footsteps

【I left Edo with Kazama-san and a small amount of luggage. From this point on, I've abandoned the home and city I was brought up in now to go to a new land, and my mind/heart was full of expectations.】

--------

Act 2

Location: Outskirts of Edo

Time: Noon

【There was a long way to go between Edo and where the oni live in the west. However, However, Kazama-san said that there is no need to hurry, so our journey was very relaxed.】

SE: Footsteps

Yukimura: Ah... sakura.

Kazama: Oh, the sakura in Edo started blooming five minutes ago, and will be in full bloom in five days.

Yukimura: Yes.

【I suddenly recalled something. I didn't know if there were sakura where the oni clan we're going to is.】

Yukimura: Kazama-san, sakura where the oni are...

【Perhaps it was because he was able to discern my question, he interrupted me.】

Kazama: The sakura in my hometown/village bloom ten days earlier than the ones in Edo, so by the time we arrive, only leaves will remain.

【I was just going to ask if there were any sakura where [his] oni clan was, but Kazama-san immediately provided details about the sakura in his village.】

Yukimura: There are.... that's wonderful.

Kazama:....What do you want to see in the sakura?

Yukimura: Eh...?

Kazama: Those who stand by their convictions, advance with courage, and then finally quickly scatter.. Don't you miss the people  from the Shinsengumi?

Yukimura: Yes... Chizuru Yukimura: Yes... Every time I see these flowers, I think of everyone. They fought against the flow of the era, and withered like sakura.

Kazama: Leaving Edo at this time was the correct choice.

【Kazama-san previously said that he would leave Edo with me when the sakura were in full bloom. That's what I heard him say about the day I decided to leave with him. However, I didn't ask him why the sakura were in full bloom.... It must have been because he was thinking the same way I was..】

Kazama: Like you, I also think of them from time to time... They were undoubtedly the most foolish of  them all. However, they adhered to their own beliefs. I have always though that humans were just boring weaklings who lived for their own selfish desires. But because of them, my view on humans has changed somewhat. However... the true samurai have already died out/disappeared, . and now those who only want to satisfy their own selfish desires are active in the centre of this country.

Kazama: I decided that our last look at the human world would be these sakura, so that those the last sight we would see in the human world would be these cherry blossom trees, so that those guys from Shinsengumi who have been protecting you can witness our journey.

【Hearing Kazama-san's words, I lifted up my head to the blooming sakura. Astonishingly, I could see everyone's faces before my eyes.】

Yukimura: I won't forget everyone, I won't forget what they did on the path of their convictions.

Kzama: Won't forget, is it..... I've heard you say that before.

Yukimura: Yes.

Kazama: Then, I have something to say. In the future, you must come with me whenever you want to see sakura.

Yukimura: Why?

Kazama: Haven't I said this before, I get extremely jealous [lol, yuugiroku 2]

【With that, Kazama-san smiled as he turned around and walked forward. I once again looked up towards the sakura.】

Yukimura: Everyone, I'm going.

【I softly whispered as I moved to catch up with him. 】

--------

Act 3

Location: hotel

Time: Night

【After leaving Edo, we stayed at a hotel in Kanagawa for dinner that night, to relieve our fatigue from the long distance we had walked.】

SE: the sound of wine being poured from a wine jug into a cup

Yukimura: This is the last cup.

Kazama: What are you saying, didn't I only drink one bottle?

Yukimura: Kazama-san, what are you saying? We're setting off at dawn tomorrow, and it'll be a problem if we can't get up

Kazama: Don't worry, I know how much I can drink.

Yukimura: That being said.... it would be better to control it before reaching oni clan. You've drank so much on this first night.... Right, how much do you think our journey's travel expenses will be?

Kazama: Don't worry about the money.... Or are you saying that you're worried about my health?

Yukimura: Well...

Kazama: hmph, since this is my lovely wife's request, it's impossible to refuse... Since you insist on this, then I'll stop drinking.

【Kazama-san spoke with a wry smile, but he seemed to be in a good mood.】

Yukimura: If I can't do that extent, then I can't be Kazama-san's wife [not sure for the first part].

Kazama: Hm, you're good at talking. Very well, later I'll leave the amount I drink to you.

Yukimura: Thank you for your trust. Speaking of which [your] oni clan is inside the Satsuma domain.

Kazama: Ahh... it's true that it was in the mountains of the Satsuma before.

Yukimura: Before... it's not there now?

Kazama: We didn't want to have anything to do with humans for a long time, let alone be used by the people from the Satsuma Domain. So I decided to leave the Satsuma and build a new home.

Yukimura: So it's like that...  but it's very difficult to establish a new home.

Kazama: Yes, after all, the village is being built from scratch. Each field for every family needs to be planted by hand, and the male oni need to work hard every day

Yukimura:....Um, is it okay for Kazama-san to be here? You're the leader, so you be directing everyone...

Kazama: Don't worry, Amagiri is in charge of directing right now

Yukimura: Amagiri-san... But, it's still best to hurry back, at least to help——

Kazama: I also wanted to go back early, but Amagiri often asked me to return later... which I don't understand, it's likely that he wants to do something while I'm not there.

【Although I can't be certain, I think I can understand Amagiri-san's thoughts to some extent. The phrase "while the demon is away" describes the situation.】

Yukimura: Th-That's to say, I think he just wants Kazama-san to what it looks like when it's complete, that's why he wants you to take your time before it gets finished...

Kazama: My hometown will be your future home, so I really want you to see it sooner.

SE: hugging sound

【Before I could say anything, Kazama-san held me somewhat firmly/forcefully.】

Yukimura: I, I know. But you can at least get a good night's rest during our trip, right?

【As a result, Kazama-san's expression changed...】

Kazama: You're not in a hurry? Then it's possible to have two more drinks.

【Hearing that, I quickly broke free of his arms.】

Yukimura: These are two different things! Resting and drinking wine aren't the same things...

【I could feel the my face heating up and couldn't say anything as my froze.】

Kazama: Well, if you want to do something else, come here.

Yukimura: Pl-Please stop teasing me!

Kazama: Hm, you're blushing because of me, so you can look as much as you want [I think?]

Yukimura: Rather than that, I want to know more about the oni clan's circumstances before we arrive, so please tell me about it.

Kazama: Oh? Why do you want to know about that?

Yukimura: Because in the future.... that's where I'll be living, and as your.... um, wife... I need to know...

Kazama: Hm, as the leader's wife, okay/ that's good.

【And so, Kazama-san told me about the village, be that as it may, because the village was now being rebuilt, I heard mostly heard stories about the Kazama family and the oni who lived together [with them?]. As this continued, the night became darker and darker.】

-------- Act 4

Location: Hotel

Time: Night

【Hearing Kazama-san speak about the affairs of the oni village, before I realized it, it was already late at night, and the lively town [where the] Shukuba was, was quiet. [Shukuba were post stations during the Edo period in Japan, generally located on one of the Edo Five Routes or one of its sub-routes. They were also called shuku-eki. These post stations were places where travelers could rest on their journey around the nation. Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shukuba]】

SE: The sound of an almost empty wine jug being shaken

【The wine that had been almost finished, was finally drank by Kazama-san.】

Kazama: Anyhow, the wine has been drunk. It's almost time to rest for today.

Yukimura: Ah, yes, I have to get up early tomorrow.

Kazama: it actually won't be a large issue if you wake up late

Yukimura: Really, what are you saying. Travelling demands getting up early to hurry up, and also we can't cause problems fro the hotel.

Kazama: Che, what a truly serious woman.

Yukimura: The bedding has already been made in the next room.

SE: The sound of a shoji door being opened

【Two futons had been laid out in the next room. Furthermore, there was enough distance between the bedding, [with enough space] for another person to lie down.】

Kazama:....Hey.

Yukimura: Hm, what is it?

Kazama: Why are the two futons separated?

Yukimura: This is as it should be, right?.... Um/Well, we aren't formally a married couple after all.

【I specifically requested the maid to prepare two futons, and Kazama-san, who should have realized it, frowned unhappily.】

Kazama:...Things have reached this stage, and you're still saying that. Although still haven't had the formal wedding ceremony, we already have a husband and wife relationship.

Yukimura; What Kazama-san says isn't wrong because we've yet to hold a wedding ceremony.... Alright, I have to get up early tomorrow, so I first need to sleep properly.

【Kazama-san still looked dissatisfied, [but] I pushed his back to get him into the next room,  and quickly moved get under the blanket.】

SE: The sound of [someone] diving into blankets

Yukimura;....Oh.

【Because of fatigue from our journey, as my body went under the covers, I thought I would immediately fall asleep. But that unexpectedly didn't happen.】

Yukimura:....Kazama-san?

Kazama:...What?

【In the darkness, Kazama-san answered me.】

Yukimura: You're still haven't fallen asleep?

Kazama: My wife isn't asleep yet, how could I sleep first.

【Kazama-san will apparently stay awake until I fall asleep. That time too.... the was also the first time I spent the night with this man.】

Yukimura:...Don't worry about me, you go sleep first.

Kazama: What if something unexpected happens? Do you want me to regret [something]?

Yukimura:...If I go next to you, will Kazama-san be able to go to sleep?

【Although I'm not sure quite what I'm talking about myself... but this absolutely isn't flirting, but a way to make it easier for Kazama-san to get to sleep.】

Kazama:...Do you understand what you're saying?

Yukimura: Of, of course. I only said that so that Kazama-san could peacefully sleep!

【I slowly climbed out of my futon, and slipped into Kazama-san's futon.】

Yukimura: Okay, I'm getting in.

SE: The sound of a blanket moving

【I lifted Kazama-san's blanket to the side, and he moved his arms to embrace me.】

SE: hugging sound

【As soon as I got into his futon, Kazama-san pulled me close/tightly held me.】

Yukimura: Ah!

Kazama: It's called the cold weather in the flowering season [??? literal tl, but im not really sure what this means though apparently this refers to sudden cold weather]... it's so cold tonight, so holding [you] is simply to stay warm.

Yukimura: Yes... Yes....

Kazama: I won't do anything else, so... just stay here.

【Listening to him pleading, I couldn't stand it. The calming sound of his breathing slowly relieved my nervousness. I was a little scared and tense while falling asleep together with this man like this for the first time [reword?]. However, his body's warmth and breathing made me feel strangely reassured me...】

Kazama: Sleep well... [literally "good rest"]

Yukimura: Okay.... Good night, Kazama-san.

Kazama; Nn... good night...

【I sensed this warmth, and quickly fell asleep.】

Starring: Kazama Chikage... Tsuda Kenjiro

[pearwaldorf]

If I never see another post from Franzeska aka olderthannetfic here it will be too soon. How dare she answer questions about racism and AO3 like she wasn’t one of the people who helped build it into the very structure of the site? I am quoting this directly from her post (emphasis mine): 

We picked the archive warnings from things that were common on older fic archives. Which, yes, reflects what fandom cared about at the time and is not neutral. (And when I say “we”, I do mean me specifically. I can’t remember how much my committee chose those and how much the Board and others drove the exact selection, but I did a lot of the research into older archives at the time. Including something about racism straight up never occurred to me in 2008.)

And sure, our views can evolve a lot in a decade. But Racefail happened in 2009, and none of the topics discussed at the time are different than those we’re focusing on today, 11 years later. For shits and giggles, here is my archived Livejournal post about the entire mess. If you click through to the other links (synedochic’s in particular), I think you will see this is something that didn’t just pop up with Tumblr and the SJW/anti contingent. (I’m not comfortable with conflating antis/fandom fundies/purity wankers with fans legitimately criticizing racism in fandom, but that is how a lot of it gets lumped together as a dismissive tactic.)

Which brings us to That Piece of Shit Meta in 2016. I am linking to the Fanlore entry for context, because the Actual Piece of Shit Meta is archive-locked (you can access it from Fanlore if you really want to read it, but it’s 16K of garbage).

A selection of commentary about it:

Guys, this was the problem all along. I’m doing fandom wrong by falling in love with the wrong source text. If I’d only understood that this wasn’t my space to enjoy non-white and/or non-male characters, because the majority of characters are white men, imagine how much happier I’d be in my life. (allofthefeelings)

they’ve been spouting yt apologia while fetishizing asian culture for years, this is nothing new. i’m pretty sure i’ve read franzeska saying the same things back when racefail ‘09 was going down. like most of this isn’t surprising bc it is exactly what we saw yt lj fandom peeps spouting in 2007-2010 and i’m personally not shocked that these people learned absolutely nothing. they don’t want to learn and being accountable for their actions. (astro-projection [edited to correct quote attribution and link])

Franzeska goes deep into the history of AO3 to talk about why slash is represented heavily there... But in 16,000 words over 13 chapters, there is not one mention of Racefail ‘09. Not a single reference to the time a popular Harry Potter LJ community used a racial slur as a prompt in 2007. Nothing about the Supernatural RPF Big Bang story that used the 2010 Haiti earthquake as a backdrop for a J2 love story (THAT’S A REAL THING THAT HAPPENED). Nothing about the time in 2006 that comics BNF Te pointed out the marginalization black characters faced on two then-juggernauts of white m/m slash fandom, Angel and Smallville. (snarl-furillo, the entire comment is worth reading so please click through)

This erasure of context and history is violent. Because many of the women of color who originally (and still) critique/d and resist/ed fandom’s normalized racism/misogynoir did so to their own detriment and with not insignificant risk to their personal well-being, safety, and privacy. Women of color were ‘outed’ by other fans for speaking out (doxed). They were attacked and silenced from all sides. They lost friends and community. They had to, with great vulnerability, cut themselves open and drag out their own private, internal experiences to air for all the (white) people who disbelieved them. They often found themselves speaking directly to a fucking wall of over-sensitive whiteness that would just as easily topple right on top of them. If anything in fandom is precious, it’s white feelings. And it always has been. (halfhardtorock)

In 2017 she was part of a Kickstarter to do a film about fangirls and fandom. I asked (you’ll need to hit “show comment” to see it) her to publicly comment about That Piece of Shit Meta, which she did. 

But before she did, Chelsea Woods, the co-creator of the project, emailed me about the comment. I don’t remember what exactly the email said, because it was a really long time ago, but she wanted to talk to me about the meta, perhaps to help formulate a response. Chelsea also reached out to somebody else outspoken about the issue at the time, and this is from a DM exchange I had with them:  

I understand why Chelsea reached out, as the head of the project and probably because she thought I would be more likely to respond instead of Franzeska. But tbh it feels like Franzeska's trying to get somebody else (a woman of color) to do the legwork for her. To the best of my knowledge I don't have F blocked on Twitter or Tumblr, and it's not like my email is hard to figure out.  I don't exactly relish the thought of talking to her, but as the one who fucked up, I feel like it is incumbent upon her to make the gesture...

I basically told Chelsea the same as you, that at this point there is very little she can do to demonstrate she understood what she did was fucked up, and that she has learned anything from the experience.

And when I tried to reblog her response, I found out Franzeska had blocked me, if that gives you any indication of how much she honestly wants to engage in discussion. 

Which brings me to now. I was literally today years old when I learned that Franzeska was head of the Abuse team for A While. (Bess says 2008-2012.) So suddenly a lot of things make sense, especially the lackluster (to put it politely) response about racist nonsense I’ve heard over the years, like in male hockey RPF. [edit: additional context in this post, ty Rukmini]

Certainly Franzeska is not responsible for everything racist about AO3, but she has definitely had a hand in shaping a culture that sacrifices the well-being and comfort of black users (among others) on the altar of “maximum inclusivity of content”. To turn the phrase back on them, who is “our own”? Why is it important to preserve an environment where a racially fetishistic fic that objectifies a black hockey player can stay up but a black fan basically has to go in like Viago checking for sunlight?

There is a balance between draconian content restrictions and letting racism, sexism, transphobia, etc run rampant on the site. I’m not saying it will be possible to find it immediately, or that it won’t change over time. But we have to try, if the AO3 is truly committed to making it a place that includes everybody, and not just the specific group of people who designed the site.

[annaphoenix1994]

Masterlist Here:

Rearview Town

Three Weeks Later

Mia sighed heavily as she entered her truck to go home after her final day of working before her requested vacation time. She smiled to herself, excited for the new adventure ahead. She, with Big John's help, have planned a vacation that was much needed for all of them - A road trip for the ultimate Rocky Mountain experience. Camping just outside of Billings, Montana.

"Hey, baby," Mia smiled as she entered the house, stacks of suitcases all over the living room, seeing Michael laying on the couch as he was waking up from his afternoon nap as it was his routine as Ella had now created a routine of keeping Michael busy with her needs. "Sleep well?" She whispered, leaning over the end of the couch to kiss him.

He smirked into the kiss, "She's running me ragged."

"She gets it from me."

"Least you said it."

"Best you get used to it, buddy," She giggled. "She's not even a year old yet."

"There needs to be something we can do to keep her a baby. I'm not quite ready to see her grow up yet."

"Me too," She shook her head. "Where's LJ?"

"He said he was going to go and get some snacks for the trip."

"Okay. We'll have to leave super early in the morning, so I figured we'd pack up everything today so we can just get in the truck and go get the horses."

"Whatever makes you happy, sweetheart. I'm just here." He assured her.

"How's Ella been today?"

"Restless," Michael sighed. "It's like every time I fed her wasn't good enough."

"She was like that the other day too. It'll be okay. She's sleeping now so I'll see if I can calm her down."

"Let her sleep," He grumbled, reaching for her hand and toying with the ring that was on her finger before pulling her down towards him gently where she would be laying on top of him. "I just want to hold you."

*

The following morning, Little John was the first one to be awake as he too was excited about a vacation.

"Michael?" Mia whispered in the dark, peppering kisses on Michael's bearded cheek. "It's time to get up."

He groaned, turning his body to face hers, pulling her back into his chest. "No."

"You're such a toddler," She giggled, not refusing his grasp as she wasn't eager about getting up either. Especially not at four in the morning. "We have a long day ahead."

"There's twenty-four hours in a day, hun." He replied, keeping his eyes closed as the hallway light beaming through under the door was too much light for his liking.

She hummed against his chest, "Fine, I guess I'll go and get the horses and trailer myself."

"I hate when you guilt trip me." He huffed.

"Got you up, didn't it?" She smiled. "I'll get you a coffee to make up for it, you cranky man."

"You drive me crazy, woman." He groaned, forcing himself to sit up in the bed.

"So do you," She scoffed. "You keep me on my toes."

"No, I'm the one who keeps you curling your toes."

She blushed, "You're not wrong..."

"I know I'm not."

"Anyway," She smiled, flustered. "I'm going to go get ready. LJ's already downstairs."

"I know, he's the one who always keeps the light on." He rubbed his eyes.

*

After a long, almost twenty-hour drive, between a lot of stops, Billings was now in their sights. To everyone's amazement, it was beautiful. Michael looked over at Mia in the backseat, reaching his arm over the car seat Ella was strapped into and grasping her hand, waking her up from her slumber. Little John had been driving the truck as Big John sat in the passenger seat. Surprisingly, the ride had gone by quick as it was one conversation followed by another.

Once arriving at the destination, Mia couldn't keep her eyes off of the mountains, each of them snow-capped with a deep shade of blue. "I'm going to go check in." Big John said before exiting the truck. The destination was a two-story cabin with what was called by Michael a "horse hotel" - a barn in the back with paddocks and trails that led into the mountains and valleys of Montana.

Mia nodded as she felt the breeze of chilly air from outside after Big John had opened the door. Leaving Ella in the seat until things were settled, she put on her jacket and looked at the scenery before her. "Wow." She gasped.

"Sure was worth the long hours and major backache." Michael added, walking up next to her.

"You're always one to ruin the moment, Michael." She giggled.

"I know you were thinking the same." He chuckled, wrapping his arm around her before pressing a kiss to her temple. He watched how bright her eyes became and how excited she was. He didn't quite get it - why she was so excited to be in another state. Perhaps it was where they were away from home for once and she didn't have to worry about work, but something gnawed at him. He had thought she looked happy before, but this type of happiness he saw was different.

She felt at home.

"I'm going to go look around at the barn." She smiled.

"I'll get the horses out of the trailer for you."

"You're awful confident." She giggled.

"I'm finally used to them. I think Lilo likes me the best."

"There's a shock. Harlow is usually the one who loves everybody. Lilo picks who she likes."

"Maybe me and her are just alike."

"I guess you're right." She smiled, sharing a glance between her and Michael before she walked toward the barn, thankful that they had made it before dusk, giving them plenty of daylight to look around and get their bearings.

"Need a hand?" He heard Little John say from behind him.

"Sure." Michael nodded.

"She's in love with this place already."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Michael admitted. "She's going to want to move here or somewhere like here and I don't know how to feel about that."

Little John nodded, "I understand. Let me tell you something. I absolutely hate Illinois,"

He and Michael shared a chuckle.

"Nothing but flat land and nothing to do. Big John and I met in Chicago. Fell in love, obviously, then when the stage of dating was over with and we decided to get married, I was hoping he'd move to Chicago with me, but he was hooked on Haddonfield for some reason. I guess it was what he was used to, but I moved there for him. It made him happy. We didn't argue about it nor did I ask any questions. When I saw how happy Mia was by just getting out of the truck, she was in love. I know Mia good enough that she's going to want to move here. Maybe it's a good start for something new. I know, you're like me - a homebody and afraid of change, but when it comes to the one you love. Well, my friend, you tend to do things you never would have imagined. And in your scenario, maybe it'll be good for you, too."

"You're right," He sighed, opening the trailer door to walk up into the trailer to untie Lilo, leading the mare behind him out of the trailer before handing the lead rope to Little John before walking back in to untie Harlow. "It wouldn't be so bad I guess. It's just new. If it was up to me I'd stay home. It's all I've ever known."

"I understand. Just something to think about. Mia never was one to fall in love with the first thing she sees. She gives everything a thought with an open mind, but when I saw how she looked at those mountains and the brightness in her eyes... It was just something different. I wouldn't put it past her to go trail riding tomorrow or the day after."

"She's not riding by herself," Michael commented. "Especially somewhere she's never been before."

Little John smirked, "Why'd you think she brought both horses?"

[bad-bitch-beauchamp]

Songs About Me - Chapter Three

After karaoke night and Claire's impromptu performance, both Claire and Jamie spend the next day reconciling with their choices from the night before.

Read on AO3

“Stay, Sassenach! One more drink!” 

“One more drink might be the death of me, Mr. Fraser, and if you’d like to watch me embarrass myself again next week, I can’t be on my deathbed tonight!” 

He had tried to convince her to let him walk her home, but she waved him off and pulled the sweater that had fallen off her shoulder back up to its rightful place at the junction of neck and shoulder -- a place Jamie couldn’t tear himself away from until that moment. She wrangled a loose curl behind her ear, tugged on her coat, and caught Jamie watching her every move, drink at his lips, eyes just over the rim of the glass. She could’ve stayed, could’ve responded, could’ve reacted to what she was feeling right then… no. A couple of hours together in a bar and a poor excuse for a solo at closing time did not change the fact she didn’t know this man. This very handsome man, she reminded herself. No. You came out here for yourself. Leave by yourself.

She met his eyes one last time, gave a nervous laugh, declared “Hope to see you next weekend!” all too loudly, and spun on her heel. She had stepped over the threshold when she thought she heard her name from inside, but she didn’t turn to find out. 

———

Claire realized exactly three things when she awoke the next morning: The sun was shining too brightly, the street musician playing on the corner directly below her bedroom window was playing too loudly, and the memories of the last night with the redhead who loved music and books were coming on too fast. Somehow, in the span of a few hours, he had literally become her waking thoughts. She sat up in bed, still cocooned in a cloud of white cotton sheets and linen comforters. What do you even know about him? Probably not even anything. She pulled herself from the warmth of the bed, her feet landing on a soft oriental rug in shades of blues and greens. His eyes were the colors in this rug. Just like the ocean itself. Okay, she remembered one thing about him. The woven textile gave way to worn hardwood floors, on to cool hexagon tiles lining her bathroom floor as she passed through glass french doors between bookshelves on the wall. 

When Claire inherited her Uncle Lamb’s brownstone, she could remember only one thing about the place from her visits: the upstairs was magical. Quentin Lambert Beauchamp was an archaeologist, and although it rarely happened, he had decided he needed a home base to work from. In the historic brownstone, he neglected to update much besides the upper level. As the brownstone was on a corner lot, Lamb declared it must have every window possible to let in the light. Days were too gloomy and cloudy in England, and he would soak up all the light he could while teaching here at Harvard, thank you very much. The most magical room in the entire home (according to both Beauchamps) was lined from front to back with alternating windows and storage -- wide bookshelves on the top, long cabinets on the bottom. The opposite side was almost entirely made of the same bookshelves, save for two sets of french doors leading to a large closet and a larger master bathroom, respectively. The bookshelves traveled up to a curved ceiling, rails and ladders lined the walls to reach the highest and most precious of his belongs (now hers as well). Claire had painted the walls and trim shades of white and cream and ivory. The shelves were stripped and stained with a neutral-tone light wood with white filler. The brass fixtures and ladder rails sparkled in the warm morning light. Claire placed plants wherever she could fit them, and donned the shelves with memories to mingle with the ones Lamb left behind. This room, this place, was her favorite in the whole world. 

Back in the bathroom and walking to the walk-in shower, Claire bent down to reach the sweater she tossed aside the night before. The underside of his hair is this color. Right at the base of his neck, with the extra curls. She shook her head and started the tap. Maybe all his curls would turn that color when he got wet. She turned the faucet as hot as she could stand it, reached an arm for her phone, and set Spotify to only play Blink-182. We’re done with those feelings! No feelings, only the angst possible with punk rock! 

Cold tile brought her down to earth again when she stepped out of the shower, the trails of water dripping down her back and breasts a refreshing break from the onslaught of pounding heat. He felt like a breath of fresh air. Just like this. 

With a towel wrapped around head and a t-shirt tossed on, she made her way back to the bedroom and took a seat on her bed. She desperately wished she had stayed for that last drink. Or at least got his number? Why didn’t I get his number?! Now, she’d have to wait another six days before seeing him again. Maybe her attraction to him was nothing more than lust, but if she could text with him, get to know him better, maybe she could find out. With no way of reaching him, she opted to get dressed and head out to clear her head. Maybe find a place to write? Since her decision to put herself first, she’d put letting off steam by writing and singing. It fell in live with the general creativity that fueled her life, while still being different enough from the greenhouse to give her a bit of rest and peace. As she contemplated where to adventure off that morning and pondered the correct way to lace her Doc Marten boots, her phone rang. A photo of three fresh faces graced her screen, a woman with wild dark curls with her mouth gaping with laughter, another woman with a waterfall of red hair and piercing green eyes made less intimidating by the crinkles at the edges, and a man with deep dimples surrounding his smile and an eyebrow raised in surprise at the camera taking their picture. Claire hit the accept button on the call, and thus the inquisition arrived. 

“We need to talk about last night!” The screen was split in two, with Geillis’ video on top and Joe’s on the bottom with Claire’s in the corner. 

“What about last night? I honestly thought our song was pretty good! I was thinking next week we could do--”

“That’s obviously not what we’re talking about, LJ! But agreed, we did a damn good job.”

“Will you two quit it?” Geillis cut them off and brought her face closer to her screen. “We need to talk about Claire, that viking, and the unreal chemistry. Spill it ALL, Claire.”

———

Jamie had woke nursing a headache, but alas, today would not be the day for rest. He flipped the sign in the window of Fraser Literature from closed to open, and began to check off the list of opening duties. On the list was to water the plants. Set on a table in a small alcove, on top of side table next to an worn leather chair for patrons to sit and peruse a story in, hanging from simple planters in the window that stretched from edge to edge in front of the shop, guarding the aisles of books ready to be enjoyed by people who hadn’t read them yet. Jamie often visited a greenhouse just outside town for the shop’s plants. While a small place, it was teeming with love, peacefulness, and a sense of adventure with green as far as the eye could see, boarding the windows with giant leaves and trailing vines. The feeling inside was something he wanted to emulate in his own place, and so he started adding a wee bit of flora here and there. Rupert and Angus initially laughed off his efforts, claiming Jamie was “destroying the manly vibe” they were aiming for. With every bit of decoration, every little bit of effort however, the shop grew in reputation and success. Jamie was immensely proud of the shop he built, and even more grateful he was able to spend his days surrounded by the words of great men and women, constantly inspired and in awe of the endless stories at his fingertips. 

The boys -- Angus and Rupert, that is -- had brought up the idea of expanding into a few other fine art ideas within the shop. Jamie had been reluctant to agree to anything that wasn’t directly related to literature. As they stood around the front counter, Rupert led the charge: 

“Jamie, man. The people who like books are also the ones who like art and music and such. Why not try to bring them all together?” 

“What if they don’t care about the books? What if they don’t even look at them, and don’t care? What’s the point in having the shop, then?”

It was Angus’ turn to reply with, “Well the point is getting people in the door, and letting your “wee shop” as ye always call it speak for itself, aye?” 

Jamie had to agree with that point. He settled for telling the lads that if they could come up with a suitable idea, he’d agree to it. Twenty minutes later, Angus and Rupert stood in his office doorway saying they would be asking for local musicians to come and perform. 

“Doesn’t seem like yer asking for approval.” 

Jamie didn’t look up from his computer, but could hear the grin in Rupert’s voice as he replied, “‘Tis because ye know it’s a good idea, and ye wouldn’t refuse a good idea.” 

Jamie sat back in the rolling leather chair behind his antique desk and sighed, then laughed. “Why do I even try to control what ye two do? Yer jes’ going to do it anyway.” The lads grinned at each other and shrugged. “Go on then, see if ye can have some posters made up to put in the window.” 

He stood as Rupert saluted him and Angus muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Aye aye, captain,” and stretched his long, lean, muscles. He needed to get a few errands completed, so opted to spend the next few hours outside both to complete his tasks and to get out in the fresh air. He told his friends he’d be back soon, and to let them know if he needed anything. 

With one step out into the sunlight, he immediately regretted the amount he had drunk the night before. Two in the morning was not a suitable time to be out, but for the lass with the dark curls and the whisky eyes, he’d give every moment of his time. From the moment he woke, he thought of her. Thought of how she made him laugh. Thought of how bonny she felt under his fingers, her hips on the barstool as she wiggled back into place, her thigh touching his under the booth table. He thought of how she’d gone up on stage as an act of defiance against him for the insult to her friend’s song, but how instead she ended up showing a piece of her soul to him, and him alone. He thought of how her eyes matched the swirling liquid in his glass. He thought of her abrupt departure after he had asked her to stay, and how he almost ran out after. He thought of how he was so incredibly stupid as to not have asked for her number before she ran. Look what ye did -- now ye have to wait to see her, and yer barely functional as it is. While Angus and Rupert had been gauging his interest for the musical talent in his office earlier, he had been searching the Facebook page for the 21st Amendment, combing it for references to her. To Claire. Maybe she had performed there? Perhaps she and her friends had tagged the place in one of their pictures? There was no sign of her, and she hadn’t told him her last name. Six days to go, mate. Ye can do this. She’s just a lass. Ye don’t know her. 

After a few hours of tedious tasks (could the post office ever be efficient, just this once?), he made his way back to Fraser Literature. It was a warm day for autumn, and the shop would have a cart with discount books out on the sidewalk and the door propped open for fresh air. He would never tire of seeing his name on something he built, something he was so proud of. As he neared the shop however, it wasn’t the name on the window that drew his attention -- it was the many people standing inside, facing the window, looking outside. Jamie stopped and looked around, but not finding anything out of place around him. He took a few steps closer. They weren’t looking outside, but rather at the inside corner of the shop, the corner where the window meets the wall. He was only a few steps away when he saw it, when he heard it. A woman with bouncy curls and a round arse, sitting with her back to the window at a keyboard bench. He didn’t have to see her face to know. Her voice was enough. It was enough at two in the morning to imprint on him forever. 

She was there, in his shop. His place. Claire. God, his Claire. 

With one shaky step and an attempt at a steadying breath, he moved inside his sanctuary.

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with MaybeAmanda

MaybeAmanda has been a longtime participant in X-files fandom. She has 29 stories at Gossamer, the earliest being archived there in 1998 and the latest in 2012. I've recced some of my favorites of her stories here before, including "Malus Genus" and "Snow in Alabama." Big thanks to MaybeAmanda for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

It does, in a way.  The feedback I get nowadays is either of the "I read this like 20 years ago and I just read it again" variety or the "I was too young back in the day but I have been watching the show in reruns/on XYZ streaming service/on the full-series of DVDs I got for $3 from the thrift store and I was THRILLED to discover fanfiction was being written even in the Dark Ages!" So it's a bit of a surprise, but it's a pleasant one. I answer every mail/comment because my mama raised me right!

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

It was great. It was fun. It was educational. It was a godsend. Even with the occasional bouts of back-stabbing and flame-throwing, it was mainly a welcoming, inclusive place to be. I made so many online friends who have turned into meat-friends (do they still call them that? Probably not).  During the first run of the show I had small children and we had relocated for my husband's job.  I had very little social life, but the fandom gave me a chance to meet and connect with people who liked what I liked. Then I discovered online fanfic, and it was even better!

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

ATXC I think.  A lot of email lists - 5 or 6 or 7 or so over the years. Gossamer, of course, Ephemeral when that came into being.  Haven discussion boards. My own websites.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

More than anything?  I am a fangirl.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I have always been partial to sci-fi and speculative fiction, but it rarely makes it to the screen - large or small - without being trite, clichéd, or just plain bad. It's easy to forget that The X-Files was groundbreaking - smart, scary, funny, insightful, intriguing, complex plots, on-going mythology. It looked great. It sounded great. David Duchovny was pleasant to look at, too, and damn! Gillian Anderson is/was one hell of an actress.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I found XF fanfic - somehow - probably by accident, or by way of a recommendation - and it blew my mind.  I had written fanfic (of a sort) with my friends in highschool, so I was familiar with the beast, but to find what amounted to excellent story after excellent story for free within (relatively) easy reach (because dial-up, right?) written by people who, for the most part, were thrilled you read their story and were happy to talk to you about it, about writing in general, about your shared obsession - that was amazing. As I am sitting here typing this I am feeling that thrill again - discovering Karen Rasch, Madeliene Partous, Paula Graves [Lilydale note: AKA Anne Haynes], Sheryl Martin and all the other early BNFs was, well, the only word is exciting. I felt like I was a member of a secret society and that I was sitting at the popular kids lunch table, all at once. (Don't forget, in the early days, shippers were considered delusional outliers - seriously!)

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Good?   It's not as lively a place as it once was, but I haven't renounced my citizenship or anything. If I get a rec, I check it out. I know there are those who like to pretend they never had anything to do with the fandom, but why? I am still a proud XPhile.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Angel (a teeny tiny bit) while XF was still running, but those fans were - I don't know the word.  Hardcore does not begin to do it justice. I wrote two short pieces at a friend's request then backed away slowly. Sherlock (a bit) - it is/was very LJ centred and that made it hard to find things. A lot of it moved to tumblr which made it harder, then to twitter, which - no.  I was involved in one of the less fashionable facets of the Sherlock fandom, so I was really a fringe-dweller there, too. It seemed clique-ier than XF, and they all seemed so young, and they all knew EVERYTHING about everything, and every damned thing was political, and, and, and... GET OFF MY LAWN!

But maybe I am remembering the XF fandom wrong. ;)

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Like, all fiction? Mulder and Scully for sure. Arthur Dent. Sherlock Holmes in most of his incarnations. Spock. Winnie the Pooh. Why do I like them?  They speak to me, I guess.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I haven't watched an episode in probably two years (back when it was on regular tv).  Yeah, I think about them surprisingly often.  Story ideas, weirdly.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic?

I finished re-reading The Iolokus Series a couple of weeks back, so yes.  It's excellent comfort reading.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

Lots! But as far as authors go, I hate playing favourites. I will miss someone I shouldn't and feel like crap.  The Iolokus Series by MustangSally and Rivka T. is probably my all-time favourite fic because it's so very well-written, and so very fucked-up. Kipler's Strangers and the Strange Dead is also terrifically well-written and clever. For complex, interesting case files, you can’t beat syntax6 - pick any of them.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Oh geez. Seriously? I wrote a lot of collaborations and I love them - and my co-authors - all!  Stuff I wrote on my own: Anniversary Waltz (first XF fic I wrote so it's sentimental.) Or Blue Patches. Or Epiphany. Or The Gifts of the Magi (On a Kaiser Roll). Or 221XF.  Gonna stop now.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story?

Every time I thought I wouldn't, I did. I would never say never.

Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

Nothing finished ever went un-posted. All the unfinished stuff remains unfinished.

Do you still write fic now?

Haven't for a while, but it's not as if I have said "I SHALL NEVER WRITE FANFIC AGAIN!" I just have nothing in the works at this moment.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

With fic, it's usually from canon - some question unanswered, some road unexplored, some "what if?" that needs iffing.  With "original" fiction, damned if I know.  A snippet of overheard conversation, an interesting photo, something a random story generator spit out at me.  Sometimes things just click.

What's the story behind your pen name?

Okay so...many years ago I was on a (smallish) fic list with a friend.  There was a challenge posted - a bad fic challenge. We knew we could write some truly bad fic if we really tried.  One of the rules of the challenge was to post under an assumed name so no one would know who they were voting for. Well, my friend and I wrote something truly, painfully horrid and we were very proud of its ghastliness, so were brainstorming possible pseudonyms. She hated everything but had no real suggestions of her own.  I knew that she was a bit of a Trekkie (like me) and I said - What about Amanda Greyson and Joanna McCoy?  And she said  - What?? Huh?? Why?? And I said - Spock's mother and McCoy's daughter and she replied, "Maybe Amanda is Spock's mother but on Star Trek there is not a Joanna." By this point, I was SO DONE, and I became MaybeAmanda and she became NotJoanna. Really.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

It took years for me to admit it, but yeah, they know.  They didn't entirely get it.  The reactions I most often got were:

"Ew! You write stuff without being forced?? Ew!!"

or:

"Is it smut? I bet it's just smut. You write smut, don't you? Pure filth, right? I can't believe you are wasting your time writing pornography! That's disgusting! You sicken me! Um, can I read some of it?"

And of course:

"If you are going to write anyway, why don't you get published and become fabulously wealthy?"

which is really two questions, neither of which is easily answerable.

Anyone who tracked my work down (because I told them I wrote, but not my pseudonym) usually said something like, "Hey! You're an okay/passable/decent writer! Why don't you get published and become fabulously wealthy?"

Yeah.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Same old email (maybe_a@rocketmail_dot_com). Gossamer, my site, my LJ and probably some other places.  I can't lie - it's a bit scattered.

(Posted by Lilydale on August 4, 2020)

[lynelovespopculture]

THE CHILLING ADVENTURES OF ZELDA CHAPTER 19-SALEM FAUSTUS MUST RESCUE HIS DAUGHTER FROM WHERE NO WITCH SHOULD GO.

Zelda didn’t believe what she just heard. She walked across the room so she could read the text herself. She read it twice and still shook her head. “No, I don’t believe it. Our Cordelia just can’t be on her way to Salem. She just can’t be!”

Jake, who wasn’t exactly in the loop, gasped. “You can’t mean that Cordelia is on her way to Salem, that Salem, THE Salem?!”

“Apparently so,” Ambrose answered him.

Faustus, meanwhile, checked his watch and walked quickly to the front hall where everyone followed him.

“Where are you going, Uncle Faustus,” Ambrose called out.

“It’s 8:30 now and I know that the bus should have left at 5:30. Despite that 3-hour head start, I going to see if I can catch it before they reach Salem.”

“I’m going with you.” Zelda reached for her coat but Faustus stopped her.

“No, dearest.” Faustus shook his head. “I understand completely why you want to come along, but if worse comes to worst and I have to go all the way to Salem, I won’t be able to explain your presence. It’s my class on that trip. The only reason I’m not with them right now is that I told them I was sick.” Zelda looked upset and Faustus sought to comfort her with his next statement. “Our girl is very clever. She might get away and come home on her own so someone needs to be here.”

Zelda was still upset but managed to put on a brave face. “Faustus, your trip will go by faster if you don’t have to stop much. I could pack you some sandwiches if you want.”

“Excellent idea, my love.”

10 minutes later, the car was packed and Faustus was ready to go. Jake and Ambrose hung back to allow Zelda and Faustus a private goodbye.

“Do you have everything?” Zelda asked.

“I think so.”

“Call me as soon as you find Cordelia. I don’t care where you are.” Faustus nodded and Zelda sighed and threw her arms around her husband. “And for Hecate’s sake, Faustus,” Zelda whispered into his neck. “Please, please be careful. I simply wouldn’t know what I would do if anything ever happened to you or Cordelia.”

“Shhh, hush my love, the only thing that going to happen is mine and Cordelia’s safe return. Any other outcome is unacceptable.” He then kissed her goodbye. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Zelda returned “Bring home our girl.”

Faustus nodded, kissed her again before he got into the car, and drove off. Even before Faustus’s car drove out of sight, Zelda could feel Ambrose’s arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t worry, Aunt Z, if anyone up to this task, it’s uncle Faustus.”

“Absolutely,” Jake agreed. “They’ll be back before you know it.”

The 7-hour bus trip flew by. From the very back, Cordelia watched the other students filed off the bus. Cordelia took a deep breath and got up and tried to get off the bus. However, Mrs. Robinson blocked her.

“Not yet, Cordelia. They’re not ready for you.”

“Ready for me?”

Nina didn’t respond but when Cordelia was allowed to leave the bus, Nina was right by her side. Cordelia noticed that the rest of the class had formed a half-circle. Then, a tall, scary man dressed in a black robe walked out of the shadows and stopped right in front of Cordelia. “Is this the child, then?”

Nina nodded. “It is, your honor.”

Your honor? Cordelia looked from 1 adult to the other.

The man in black pointed at Cordelia. “Has she been charged yet?”

“No, your honor. We thought it best to get her down here and then charge her.”

Charge me? The horror finally dawned on Cordelia. This was no field trip, this was a witch trial. HER witch trial!

Meanwhile, the man in black continued. “What is the child’s name?”

“Cordelia Spellman.” Nina answered.

The man in black arched his eyebrow. “Really? SPELLman? And the name Cordelia hasn’t been in fashion for at least an century. It’s like she’s not even trying to hide it.” For the 1st time, the man in black spoke to Cordelia directly. “So, what do you say, girl? Do you deny it? Do you deny that you’re a witch?”

Cordelia stood tall. “Of course, I deny it. Everyone knows that witches don’t really exist.”

“Is that right, girlie? Let see if you say that after you see this!” He grabbed Cordelia roughly by the arm and guided her between 2 old houses.

“Hey!”

The man in black let go of Cordelia after giving her a little shove. Cordelia looked up and was in shock. There they were; all in a row, bound and gagged, all standing on barrels with nooses around their necks. Her entire family, Faustus, Zelda, Jake, LJ, Prudence, Ambrose, Sabrina, Hilda, and even Dr. C.

Without a 2nd thought, Cordelia turned to the man in black. “Okay, you got me. I am a witch. But I’m the only 1. My family didn’t even know, they’re completely innocent. Do whatever you want to me but let them go!”

“Bull!” The man in black declared. “Everyone knows that magic goes through the bloodline so if you're a witch, so is your family.”

“But I’m adopted!” Cordelia stressed. It was the 1st thing she could think of.

“Then why do you look exactly like your mother? You’re lying!” The man in black turned to the men behind the barrels. “Hang them!” He ordered.

“NO!” Cordelia screamed but the man in black held her as the barrels were kicked and the Spellmans were hanged.

“And as for you,” The man in black stared hatefully down at Cordelia. “You’re a witch by your own admission. Your punishment will be to burn at the stake.”

Cordelia didn’t, couldn’t say anything. Her entire family was just murdered for just being born witches. She choked back tears as she was tied to the stake.

“Daughter, would you like to do the honors?” The man in black asked.

“I would love to.”

Suddenly, Cordelia was face to face with Sara, who had a torch in her hand.

“I knew you were trouble since the 1st day I saw you!”

Sara only smiled. “Goodbye, witch. Thanks for the friends.” Sara lit the pyre and Cordelia watched the orange flames crack, flickering, and then it jumped? When the fire jumped for the 2nd time, Cordelia felt her body jump with it.

The next thing Cordelia knew, her eyes opened and she realized she was still on the bus. As the other students were laughing and talking, some about the recent speedbump they just passed, Cordelia sat up. Her hand on her chest, willing her heartbeat to go back to normal. Cordelia looked up at the sound of loud laughter. She grew sad when she realized it was Sara and the triplets. Cordelia frowned; she was so happy and excited to get the text this morning. She practically ran all the way to the schoolyard. When she discovered that they were already on the bus, Cordelia thought nothing of going on the bus. Yet the more she talked, the more Cordelia saw the triplets’ faces grew blanker and blanker. They had no idea what she was talking about! Cordelia’s heart sank yet she knew she wasn’t crazy. She knew that the text came from Erin’s phone. Cordelia suspected that Sara may have stolen the phone and sent the message herself to make Cordelia look foolish. Cordelia turned to get off the bus when Mrs. Robinson stopped her. Mrs. Robinson then showed her the paper and the name on it. Cordelia knew it was faked, (it must be!) There was no one there to save her. Cordelia’s heart fell into her shoes when she realized the bus to Salem was moving and she was still on it. With no other choice, Cordelia sat in the very back, which on a deluxe bus was like a padded bench with seat belts, and tried to control her breathing, just like she was trying to do now.

“Are you okay, Cordelia?” asked a classmate who sat nearby.

“I’m fine, Anne.” Cordelia lied. She was anything but fine! It was actual life and death if someone discovered her secret. As she sat up and looked around the bus, she envied the happy carefree smiles of her peers. Half of Cordelia just wanted the earth to open up and swallow her whole. The other half of her just wanted to stand up and scream. This entire journey was billed as an educational trip but Cordelia couldn’t understand what, if anything, could be ‘educational’ about a town infamous for killing witches, her kind, her people. For Cordelia, this was just as cruel as taking a person of the Jewish faith to tour a WW II death camp. Cordelia sighed as she quickly wiped a tear away. She had already decided that the only way to survive this weekend was to stay down and keep quiet. Hoping to distract herself, Cordelia took out her phone.

“Aw, man!” Cordelia groaned as she read the new message. Cordelia decided earlier not to involve her family. After all, nothing good could come from bringing even more witches to Salem. Despite this, by around 8:30, in a fit of panic, Cordelia texted her father. The instant she hit send, she regretted it. The only thing she could do now was hoping against hope that Faustus didn’t get the message. Now she knew; not only did her father get the message, but he also sent a reply.

Dear Cody,

Stay clam. I’m coming to get you as soon as can. I love you. Dad.

With a defeated sigh, Cordelia let her phone drop into her lap and rested her forehead against the window. She was already stressed as hades and they weren’t even there yet! When Cordelia noticed the sun was beaming down on her, she reached for the golden crescent moon at her neck. “Father sun, mother moon, make time fly. Make this weekend end soon.” She whispered.

Faustus didn’t understand. It was only 2 days ago that Cordelia came home crying at the mere thought of going to Salem, convinced she would die. Now she was on a bus going there? It just didn’t make any sense. Faustus knew how important Cordelia’s friends were to her but still, he just couldn’t imagine his strong-willed daughter being so desperate to win her friends’ favor that she would be talked into taking the trip. Further proof of this was Cordelia’s own text message. The message wasn’t a confessional of a kid who got carried away. It was more like a cry for help. It actually contained the phase S.O.S, which had to be a plea for help. Even if Cordelia had gone to Salem willingly, it shouldn’t have been allowed by her teachers. Even though he had always planned to claim illness and pull out at the last second, as the 7th-grade teacher, Faustus was preparing for this trip all week. Therefore, he knew that every student needed a permission slip signed by a parent or guardian to even go on the trip. Now he knew that Zelda would never sign anything that would put their daughter anywhere near Salem and Hecate knows he didn’t sign a permission slip so Cordelia should have never been able to leave with the others. She should have been kicked off that bus the moment a teacher saw her. Every time Faustus thought of his sweet, youngest child alone in that witch-hating town make Faustus pressed his foot hard on the gas pedal. He was driving on the highway, just about to enter yet another town, when something odd happened. The bottom left side of the car bounced and then dragged. The sudden movement startled Faustus so he took his eyes off the road for just a second to see what was wrong in the back. When he turned his attention back to the road, he saw a cat lying in the middle of the laneway. On instinct, Faustus turned to miss the cat and went up onto a curb. As soon as Faustus collected himself, he got out of the car. He slammed the door, angry at what he saw. The rear left tire had a big nail in it and was still leaking air. The front tire was busted up from hitting the curb.

“Damn!” Faustus swore. So much for catching up to the bus before it got to Salem. Unless…Faustus knelt by the rear tire, raised his hand, and was about to say a spell when-

“Hi there, fellow. Do ya need some help?”

Faustus looked up and saw a kind, elderly man with a tow truck right behind him. Faustus sighed, now he felt stuck. Yes, it would undoubtedly be faster to fix the car by magic, Faustus couldn’t use magic in front of a witness nor could he deny that he was in trouble. So he greeted the man, who was named Gus and it turned out that Gus owned an auto shop in the city. So Gus hooked Faustus’s car up to his truck and they drove to the shop. When they got there, Gus left Faustus in the lobby. 10 minutes later, Gus returned, frowning.

“I’m sorry, friend, but I just found a note from my partner and he had to go tend to an emergency so I’m the only 1 to look after the shop. Plus, I was just in the back, and I swear this never happens, but we seem to out of tires. So, I’m afraid you’re stuck here for a while.”

Faustus sighed. He knew he should have used magic! “Thank you for the ride into town.” He told Gus. Faustus began to walk around the waiting room as Gus went back to work. In the seating area, among the magazines, Faustus found a town map.

“Hey, do you have a bathroom here?”

“Yeah. 1st door on the left.” Gus answered.

“Thank you.” Faustus was pleased to discover that it was a private, single-person bathroom. After locking the door, Faustus unfolded the map and studied it until he found that there was A Walmart supercenter in this town. Astral projecting to a place you never been before was always risky, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He laid the map on the floor and then he laid beside the map. Faustus closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. It worked; for when Faustus opened his eyes again, he was right in front of the store. After thanking Hecate, Faustus entered the store. It was big and crowded so Faustus knew he had to hurry. Faustus made quick work of finding the auto department and selecting the correct tires. The trouble, as Faustus soon learned, was upfront. There was only 1 check-out station open and a very long lineup. Faustus stood in line, carrying a tire in each hand when he saw the 1st of those hateful birds in the window.

Oh no! Come on, come on, come on! Faustus silently willed the line to get a move on already.

Soon after, came another bird and another. By the time there were 4, Faustus realized his nose was bleeding. When 6 birds were all in a row, Faustus’s entire body was shaking and his head felt ready to explode. He could hold on no more. Sighing, Faustus dropped the tires and closed his eyes, only to return to his body on the bathroom floor. Faustus sat up and hit the titles with his palms. “Damn it!” He had to find another way to fix his car and get to his daughter and soon!

After all the stories about how all the mortals tortured and killed them, Cordelia wondered if any of the Salem witches ever simply died from boredom. If so, Cordelia may have found their descendent. It was late afternoon and the class was listening to a lecture in an old town hall. The only thing that Cordelia found remotely interesting about this guy was he has been talking for over 2 hours and had still to get a single fact right. If this so ‘witch expect’ attended the academy, Cordelia felt certain that he would easily fail 1st-year witch history. Cordelia sighed and looked out the window, only to see a graveyard, because, of course, there was a graveyard right there! Maybe it was because she was a real witch, but ever since she had arrived in Salem, Cordelia has been experienced odd things. Like wherever she went, Cordelia heard noises, like moaning and weeping, possibly from the murdered witches. Even though the Salem roads were paved, Cordelia could swear she heard splashing, as if she was walking on blood. Cordelia shook her head and turned the other way. Cordelia managed to lock eyes with Erin, and they smiled at each other. The bus had arrived in Salem at 12:30. So the first thing the class did was have lunch at a restaurant called The Witch’s Brew. (Salem got absolutely zero points for subtly.) Cordelia had a bit of luck when she was seated next to Erin at lunch. She was finally got to explain about the text, how the girls wanted to talk to her before leaving for Salem and how it came from Erin’s phone. Erin then explained that she lost her phone 3 days ago. In fact, the last thing Erin did before she left the house this morning was to ask her mom to keep looking for it. Therefore, Erin couldn’t have written that text. Still, the 2 girls got to talking during the meal and at least, for now, there was peace between Cordelia and 1 of her friends. The lecture was finally over and the class started to file out. Cordelia sneaked away to the bathroom. She did this several times today, whenever she felt the need to regroup.

You’re doing great, girl. Cordelia thought to herself. All you have to do now is get through supper, another walking tour, and then it’s off to the motel for the night. Then just 3 more days, Cordelia sighed.

When Cordelia returned to the front, she noticed that everyone from before had gone and only 2 maids were talking to each other.

“I don’t know, Dru. We come in here every day and we listen to that blockhead, every single day, telling lie after lie. But it seems especially wrong to let him tell all this to schoolchildren. It just seems so irresponsible to me.”

Drusilla, the other maid, sighed. “Shelley, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times. It doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, he’s just another mortal spinning fairy tales for mortal children. It has nothing to with us.”

“Us?” Cordelia jumped into the conversation without thinking. “You’re not mortals either? Are you witches?”

The 2 maids were visually shocked. “Mortal? Who said mortal?” Drusilla asked. “I said more tell, yeah, more tell. That darn lecturer is always leaving without telling us.”

While Drusilla was trying, very unsuccessfully, to talk herself out of trouble, Shelley knocked over the bucket of water she was mopping with. “Oh, for Hades’s sake!”

Cordelia smiled. “For Hade’s sake? That sounds like a witch phase to me. Don’t worry, I’m a witch too.”

“Oh, great. Another little girl who thinks she’s a real witch.” Although Drusilla muttered this to herself, Cordelia still overheard her.

The Spellman witch raised her hand and the spilled water was back in the bucket. “Now do you believe me?” Cordelia smiled.

“You are a witch.” Shelley said with awe and then pointed to the door. “What about the class you came in with? Are they witches?”

“No.” Cordelia shook her head. “They’re all mortals, I’m the only one.”

Drusilla raised an eyebrow. “You’re here all alone? What are you? 11?”

“12, actually,” Cordelia answered. “Yes, I’m alone, but it’s a long and confusing story and I don’t know how to explain it. What about you 2? Do you live in Salem as well as working here?”

“Dru lives in town, but you wouldn’t find me here after dark.”

Drusilla rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be such a baby, Shelley. I figured I’m safer here than anywhere else, kind of how like a farmer will never search for a fox in a henhouse.”

Cord smiled, she wasn’t sure whether that statement was madness or brilliant.

“Don’t worry, kid.” Drusilla continued. “Your day trip must be almost over. You’ll be home before you know it.”

“Oh, it’s not a day trip. The class will be here until Monday.”

“You’re staying overnight? Here? At a motel? But what about the rebels?” Shelley seemed frightened.

“The rebels?” Cordelia asked. “Who or what are the rebels?”

“They’re a secret group of mortals who believe that witches never left Salem. It’s said that to this day, they go around at night, leaving fresh blood on the motel door of witches.”

“Don’t scare her with that old wives’ tales! I’ve lived here for almost ten years and that never happened to me.”

“That’s because you don’t use motels.”

Drusilla dismissed Shelley with a shake of her head and took something out of her pocket. “Pay no mind to Shelley, but I would feel better if you took this good luck charm.”

“I just can’t take it. What if I pay for it?” Cordelia suggested. “$5 bucks?”

They agreed and as they exchanged items, Drusilla caught sight of Cordelia’s wrist. “Oh my gosh! Have you always had that?”

“What? My birthmark? Yes, I’ve always it.”

Drusilla rubbed it a bit with her thumb. “It’s not coming off. If this is what I think it is, well, honey, you are not a witch, you are THE witch.”

“What does that mean?”

Before anyone could speak further, Mrs. Applegate, another teacher from Greendale middle school, appeared at the door. “Here you are, Cordelia. Come along, it’s time for dinner and it’s starting to rain.”

It was still raining when Faustus watched the sunset from 1 of the auto shop’s windows then he sighed and turned away. Faustus simply couldn’t believe he had wasted most of the day here. This partnership with the van had yet to show up and Gus was busy with a steady stream of customers. Despite being in the same place most of the day, Faustus tried desperately to make contact with his daughter with a series of calls, texts, and video messages, all to no avail. It wasn’t surprising. After all, the class must have arrived in Salem hours ago and the 1st rule of any field trip was to turn off any and all cell phones. As for Zelda, Faustus sighed again. Faustus was too ashamed to call Zelda. Yes, he promised to call his wife as soon as he found Cordelia, but not only had he yet to find their daughter, he had no new news of her whatsoever. Maybe because it was later, Faustus thought he should try to reach Cordelia again. He took a seat in the waiting room and once again, pulled out his phone.

“Hey, I know that girl,” said the guy next to and tapped where Cordelia was on the family picture that was Faustus’s screen.

Faustus turned to the stranger. “You do?”

“Sure. I’m a traveling salesman and today I had a business lunch in Salem. Anyway, I was just leaving the restaurant when I saw a bus with a pile of kids coming off it. I remember that girl because she was the last 1 off the bus and she didn’t seem at all happy to be there.”

Faustus nodded as he listening to the other man. Knowing that his daughter was in fact in Salem and had been since lunch lit a fire under Faustus. He stood up and walked with purpose.

“What are you doing?” asked the salesman.

“What I should have done hours ago,” Faustus murmured to himself. He borrowed a phone book from behind the front desk, looked up the listing for a local cab company, and called. He then took a taxi to Walmart and picked out the 2 correct tires in person. 20 minutes after he returned to the auto shop, a man came to see him.

“Mr. Spellman, your new tires are on and ready to go.”

“Great!”

“But I’d like to have a look at your muffler.”

“My muffler?” Aside from the tires, Faustus knew that his car was fine. This guy was just trying to play him for a sucker and Faustus simply didn’t have time for this.

Still, he just said, “Sure, do whatever you have to.”

The man went back into the garage. Faustus found a discreet place to hide, where he could see his car. He waited until someone touched his car before he whispered a spell in Latin. Then the car roared to life, seemly by itself.

Faustus then ran up to the man. “Wow, you seem to have the golden touch. My car is purring like a kitten now. I gave Gus my address so you can bill me. Thank you.” Faustus got into his car and drove off while the man was still trying to figure out what just happened.

Before long, Faustus was back on the highway. One advantage of driving at night was there was barely any traffic. However, as the hours passed and Faustus got closer to Salem, the rain came down harder and harder. So hard that the paved road, that Faustus could barely see, seemed like silver. Still, Faustus kept on driving because of heaven or high water, he was determined to find his daughter…tonight! The clock on the dash read 10:37 when he finally passed the Welcome to Salem sign. Now, all he had to do was find the motel with a bus in front of it. He found it on the 3rd block he went down. Faustus parked his car and ran out of the rain and out the roof of the motel. He ran into some of his students that were lingering outside. They seemed surprised to see him but unfortunately, none of them knew where Cordelia was. Faustus was making his way to the motel’s office. He rounded the corner and ran into Nina, who smiled at him.

“Fausty! You made it! I knew you would.”

“Mrs. Robinson, please tell me, where is my daughter?”

“Oh, she’s rooming with a couple of other girls.” Nina said casually but then she leaned in and whispered “As for me, I’m in room 13, alone and ready whenever you are.”

As Nina walked away, Faustus rolled his eyes and beyond him, he heard a door open, girlish laughter, then a firm closing of the door, and finally a splash, as if falling in a puddle. Faustus turned and indeed, it was a mud puddle. It took a second for the girl to moan and turn over.

“Cordelia?”

Her eyes widened. “Dad?” Cordelia got up and went up to her father. With a quivering lip, Cordelia let go of the tears that she had kept inside all day as she threw her arm around Faustus’s waist.

“I’m sorry, Dad” She nodded. “I really am. I got scared and panicked. I regretted that text message the moment I sent it. I never meant for you or any of the family to come here.”

Faustus gently put his hand under Cordelia’s chin and forced his daughter to look up at him. “Never mind that text.” Faustus gently said. “What are you doing here?”

Cordelia shook her head, furiously. “I don’t know, I really don’t! I meant it when I told Jake I would be back in 10 minutes. I only got on the bus because the triplets were already on it when I reached the schoolyard. It was a total bust because Erin didn’t even send me the message and they just kicked me out because, for the 1st time in my life, I lied to the triplets about believing in witches.”

“Cordy, why didn’t you get off the bus?”

“I tried, but Mrs. Robinson wouldn’t let me. I begged and begged. I even considered teleporting myself home but there were too many witnesses. Then she showed me my permission slip.”

Faustus was confused. “What do you mean? Permission slips are useless until they’re signed.”

“But it was signed, Dad,” Cordelia told him. “It had your signature.”

Mine? Faustus thought, dumbstruck. Then, Faustus thought about how everyone was rightly surprised to see him, except for Nina. Faustus took off his coat and wrapped it around Cordelia. “You’re wet, muddy and you must be cold. Go and wait for me in the office. I’ll be right there, I promise.”

As soon as Cordelia was out of sight, Faustus sighed, turned, and muttered to himself, “Nina Robinson, for your own sake, I better be wrong about this!”

Faustus walked up and knocked on the door of room 13.

“Come in.”

As soon as he opened the door, Faustus noticed that there were candles everywhere in the darkened room, even on the 2nd bed. On the 1st bed, lay Nina, on her stomach, posed as if she was in a playboy magazine. All she wore was a black leather corset, a matching thong, and heels. “I knew you would come. All I had to do is get you away from the school and your wife.”

Furious, Faustus entered the room and slammed the switch that turned on the big light.

“Where are they?” He demanded.

“Where is what?” Asked Nina.

“The permission slips. You have them with you I know it!” Faustus returned, quite fiercely.

Nina said nothing so Faustus looked around and saw a teacher’s leather briefcase leaning against the TV.

“Ah!” Faustus went to the case and searched through it. 1 brief look in the mirror told Faustus that Nina had crawled to the end of the bed and was now was dangerously close to him. “Madam, I advise you to keep your hands to yourself.”

Oh?” said Nina in a flirty manner. “And why is that?”

“Because anything of yours that touches me, you are not getting back!”

Nina frowned. “You’re in a mood.”

Faustus turned to face her. “Yes, I am. Especially since I just found these.” There was a piece of paper in each hand. “Here is a permission slip for Cordelia Spellman and it does indeed bear my signature but I don’t remember signing this but this might explain it.” Faustus raised his other hand. “This is a lined paper, with nothing but my name written on it, over and over again, front and back. Yet the strange thing is at the top of the front paper looks like your handwriting, but the bottom of the back page looks like my handwriting. You forged my name on this permission slip, didn’t you?”

Nina wore her smile proudly. “It worked, didn’t it? You’re here.”

“I came here to bring Cordelia home!” Faustus fumed. “It has nothing whatsoever to do with you! And where do you get your nerve? Kidnapping my daughter and bringing her here, of all places!”

“Kidnapping? Oh, don’t be so overdramatic. It’s only a field trip.”

“To a town infamous for its injustice and murder! It wasn’t your place. It’s up to me and Zelda to decide what our daughter is exposed to!”

“Did you really have to bring your wife up again?” Nina asked, looking bored. “If you ask me, I think that Zelda is too old for you.”

“Not that’s any of your business, but Zelda and I are the same age and you want to know what I think? I think you’re not worthy enough to speak Zelda’s name!”

“Oh, come on, next you’ll tell me that you’re not attracted to me.”

“I’m not and another thing- “Faustus’s voice was drowned out by the ringing of a phone. Faustus automatically looked to the bedside table, where Nina’s phone lay charging. However, Faustus soon realized that the ringing was closer to him. In fact, the phone was in the briefcase. Nina leaped off the bed, trying to get the phone first but because he was closer, Faustus got it.

The pink, sparkly girlish phone looked oddly familiar. “Hello?” Faustus answered. “Mrs. Warner?” Faustus listened for a moment. “Oh, I see. May I ask how long has Erin been looking for this phone? Oh, I see. Yes, I’ll bring it by soon.” He ended the call and then turned to Nina. “Oh, this is low, even for you.”

Nina gave an innocent shrug. “What?”

“You know perfectly well ‘what’” Faustus snapped. “This cell phone belongs to Erin Warner. According to her mother, Erin had been looking everywhere for this for the past 3 days. This makes it impossible for Erin to send that message to Cordelia about wanting to make up at 5 this morning. You did it, didn’t you? You knew the girls were fighting and you knew that Cordelia and I were not coming on this trip. You took advantage of my daughter’s desire to make up with her friends, and once you got her on that damn bus, you kept her there, knowing full well I would come to collect my daughter!”

“But Faustus, I did it for us.”

“There is no us, you lunatic!” Faustus spat. “And I’m getting so tired of rejecting you.”

Nina smiled. “Then don’t.” She tried to put her around Faustus’s neck but he fought her off.

“Enough!” Faustus growled. “I have had it with you! I’ve tried to reason with you, to avoid you, and to explain to you how important my family is to me. All that’s left is the ugly truth so here it is. I will NEVER sleep with you! You could be the last woman, scratch that, the last person on earth, and I would still never sleep with you. In fact, you sickened me because you remind me of who I used to be and who I swore I would never become again. The fact that you would steal a child’s phone makes you a disgrace to the entire teaching profession!” Faustus then ripped up the permission slip and let the pieces fall to the floor. “Consider this me taking back custody of my daughter.” Faustus turned and left without another word, slamming the door behind him. Faustus didn’t want Cordelia to see him angry so he took a moment on the motel’s tiny porch. That’s where he first saw the thunder and lighting in addition to the rain.

The Spellman house had been filling with family all day. As word got around about Faustus, Cordelia, and Salem, people came running. Prudence was first. She was worried when Zelda, who was never late, missed the morning assembly at the academy. Prudence was even more worried when she learned when Zelda wouldn’t be leaving the house today. Hilda learned everything when she called the mortuary. By the time late afternoon rolled around, all the family knew and Ambrose, Jake, Prudence, Hilda, Sabrina, and LJ were all at the house. After dinner, they were joined by Dr. C and the other 2 weird sisters. At first, the plan was simple, just keep Zelda busy and distracted until Faustus called then everything would calm down. But the later it got, the more worried everyone got. By 11, they had run out of topics of conversation and games to play. They all felt helpless as they just sat in the drawing-room and Zelda walked0 up and down the hallway for the million time. Zelda couldn’t sit down; the only reason she ate at all was due to Hilda’s pleading. Zelda refused to go 10 feet without a phone so she stayed on the main floor all day. Zelda had no idea what to do with her hands since her last cigarette was long gone. Zelda sighed when she checked her watch. It was getting so late. If there was still no word from either Faustus or Cordelia by dawn, Zelda had already decided to go to Salem herself but she hadn’t told the others because she didn’t want anyone to talk her out of it. Zelda’s head whipped around as the phone began to ring. She ran to the phone and picked it up.

“Hello, hello?” Zelda tensed as the family gathered around her.

“Zelda? Dearest?”

Zelda’s grip tightened on the phone and closed her eyes and cherishing her husband’s voice. “Faustus! Finally, how are you? Where are you? Have you found Cordelia yet?”

“I’m fine, my dearest,” Faustus assured Zelda. “It’s been an insanely long day but I’m finally in Salem and as for Cordelia” The line went silent for a second and then… “Hi, Mom!”

Zelda bit her lip to keep her tears of joy and relief in check. “Oh, Cordelia, my sweet, precious girl. How are you? Did anyone hurt you?”

“No. I’m fine, Mom. I’ve been with the class all day and no one suspected me at all, I promise. And I definitely feel safer now that Dad’s here with me. Mom, is LJ there?”

“Yes, she’s right here.” Zelda passed the phone to her stepdaughter.

“Hello? Cordy? What’s wrong?”

“LJ, I’m so sorry.”

LJ was confused. “Why are you apologizing to me?”

“Because tonight was the night you were supposed to bring your boyfriend to dinner to meet the family.”

LJ was touched. “The fact that you remember that after all, you had to deal with today proves that you are the sweetest little sister in the whole wide world. Peter can wait. What’s important now is to get you and Dad home safe and sound.”

The sisters chatted for a few minutes and then LJ gave the phone back to Zelda and after a few moments, Cordelia passed the phone back to Faustus.

“So, now that you’re located Cordelia, are you in your home now?” Zelda asked.

“Oh, not exactly dearest. I know that it was my idea to just grab Cordelia and then drive all through the night back to Greendale, but there’s a problem here. You see, there’s a raging storm here and it’s not safe to be on the road. I barely made it here.”

“Can’t you teleport?” Zelda suggested. “Surely you must know the way home.”

“I do, but people saw Cordy and I come in this motel room so we just can’t up and disappear.”

Zelda frowned. “I don’t like the idea of you and Cordelia spending the whole night in Salem.”

“Neither do I,” Faustus agreed, “but it could be a lot worse. You see, Mrs. Applegate was kind enough to give up her room so she will have to share with Mrs. Robinson.” Was it Zelda’s imagination or was there laughter in her husband’s voice? “Anyway,” Faustus continued, “this is a single room so Cordy and I will have to share the bed tonight. The storm is sure to be over by morning and then Cordy and I will be on our way. I can assure you, dearest, I won’t be in this town a moment more than I need to.”

Zelda sighed; she still didn’t like it, but she understood. “Please be careful, Faustus, and give Cordy a goodnight kiss for me. I love you.”

“We’ll be home before you know it. I love you too.”

Although she had taken her wet clothes off when she first got to the room, Cordelia was still cold after the phone call home, so she treated herself to a hot bath. Since she had no PJs, she put the white plush motel robe back on and double knotted it so she could wear it as a nightdress. Faustus then took a quick shower to wash off his road trip. When he stepped back into the main room, he found Cordelia standing before the window, the rain and the moon casting her face in a ghastly glow.

“You know; you were born on a night very much like this.”

Cordelia looked up at him. “Don’t you hear them, Dad?”

“Hear what?”

Cordelia frowned. “The moans pleads and cries of our people. Thousands and thousands of them, crying out in pain and for justice. I’ve been hearing them all day, ever since I got off the bus.”

Faustus heard nothing and thought it must be a divine child thing. “Come on honey, we have a long drive home tomorrow. We better get some sleep.”

As they made themselves comfortable in bed, Faustus noticed something he hadn’t before. “Cordy, why are shivering? Didn’t that bath warm you up?”

“Oh, am I shivering?” His daughter asked. “I’ve been doing it all day. I guess I don’t even notice it anymore.”

Faustus could help smiling to himself. As a 12-year-old witch who had in the company of mortals, doing a tour of Salem all day, Cordelia had every right to be afraid but she would never admit it. She was so strong, so proud, so like her mother. “You’re very brave.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. If I was so brave, I would have never caved and texted you that message.”

“Oh, will you stop! I’m glad you sent that message. I’m glad that I was able to track you down. Besides, the text doesn’t take away from the fact that you just spent an entire day learning about 1 of the darkest chapter in our people’s history.”

“Yep, that’s me. Cordelia the brave…and the friendless.” She muttered.

Faustus felt his face grow hot. This whole thing started because Cordelia wanted to make right with her friends. She must have been heartbroken to learn that her friends didn’t text her this morning. Damn you, Nina! Faustus thought and then said out loud, “Don’t worry Cordy. You’ll make up with the Warners soon, I know it.”

Faustus turned off the lamp and despite being quiet, neither Cordelia nor Faustus slept all night. Maybe they were overtired or overstressed by being 2 witches in Salem. It was dawn when exhaustion finally took Cordelia and she rolled over into her father’s arms. Faustus curled his long-limbed body around her protectively before kissing her forehead. “Don’t worry baby, Daddy’s got you.” He whispered before sleep claimed him too.

1 hour later, a scream woke them up. They jumped out of bed and open the door to see the class, teachers and all of the hotel staff were in front of them. Faustus looked at the door. “Is that paint? Or blood?”

“The rebels” Cordelia whispered, suddenly remembering what the maids told her. She looked around and froze. Her room wasn’t the only marked. There was also blood on the door of the room that the triplets shared with Sara.

[franniexxfabray]

Gin and Tonic;

WHO: Frannie Fabray & Alina Montgomery @alinamontgomery WHEN: thursday night 5/6 WHAT: bar in orlando  Warnings; bad flirting

Two things happened at once that caught Frannie off guard, neither of which she did a very good job of shaking. She was out with LJ, a drink, some catching up. LJ was safe to be a bit more of herself around, they knew her the best and although Frannie still refuse to come clean about she and Sebastian's arrangement it was easy to relax around them. Too easy perhaps, she had lost track of what number drink she was on and didn't bother to worry about it. At the far end of the bar she reached for a drink the bartender had called out and set down and her hand came into contact with someone else's just as a waft of a familiar perfume filled her senses. Frannie's brow furrowed, trying to process both as she looked up half expecting her last week's companion to be standing right there next to her. It wasn't April, it was a woman Frannie didn't recognize at all but the perfume was unmistakable and the moment had her frozen with her hand over the strangers, staring. She blinked, realized and pulled her hand away so quickly it was miraculous she didn't swipe the glass over as she went. "Oh! Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!"

Alina had picked up drink after drink after drink and she wasn't sure if she wanted to stop anytime soon. She deserved some time at an actual bar with actual people after that karaoke night - and her own company was too distracted with something else. Not that she minded it, it gave her freedom to walk around, check the crowd and smile at strangers. When the drink she had in hand was done, she walked up to the bar to order another one - still not thinking about a bottle of water. And that's when it happened. At first she thought someone was trying to get her attention, so she immediately looked to the side, but the other woman just stood there looking at her. Alina couldn't help but laugh, turning her body to face her and showing her both of her hands. "It's fine, you can hold both if you'd like," she said, followed by a wink. And then she added with a smile. "I mean it, it's completely fine."

If Frannie's cheeks were red before they were even more so after the offered hand and though the alcohol in her system kept her eye's from widening she was still struggling with being glued to the spot. There was also the fact that on top of the sweet smell of the perfume bringing up a few tied memories, the woman's smile was entirely disarming. Frannie could barely find her next words. "I'm so sorry it seems we ordered the same drink and then... and then I just thought you were someone else for a moment." She managed, only stammering a little. Despite herself and because of the woman's friendly response she let out a nervous laugh, mostly at herself. "Please..." She gestured at the glass. "I can-- I'll wait."

"Well, here's to hoping it was someone great," she said, winking at the woman and going for the glass. She took a sip from it and then placed it in front of the nervous woman. "We can share, no problem," with a shrug, Alina crossed her legs so she could lean forward just enough. Just to make it obvious that she did it. "Besides, it gives me an excuse to buy you another one when this one is done. How does that sound?" She couldn't help but think that this night had finally gotten a little interesting. Despite her nervousness, the woman in front of her was beautiful. And she seemed the type that would make tonight a little more fun. Going out and scening with people from the Academy was great, but this was much more Alina's type of night.

Frannie was enamored, it was difficult for her to look away and when she did it was only to follow the drink to being set down before her. She looked back up at the stranger, judging for whether she were joking or messing with her, it didn't seem she was. Frannie glanced up to where she'd last seen LJ and gave a scan of her immediate surroundings on habit, cautious. What she usually would have said was something along insisting she could wait, that surely the bartender was working on another but, tipsier than she aught to be, none of that came to Frannie's mind. She reached for the drink and took a much more modest sip around the small grin on her lips. When Frannie swiveled in the bar chair her knee brushed against the woman's and she felt her whole body jerk in response, nearly losing her grip on the gin and tonic. Before she could embarrass herself any further and with a bashful lilt to her eyes, she placed it down in front of her sudden company. Mirroring the offer, and moving further into their shared space to do so.

Alina just couldn't help her smile when the woman sipped from the drink, keeping her body facing hers and watching with that same big smile on her lips as she moved to place the drink in front of her again. "Good girl," it was a long shot her tipsy intuition was taking, and not that it would usually be wrong or right, but incentives rarely hurt. Alina was torn between finishing the drink and dragging this for longer or pulling her closer - they were already sharing space, weren't they? Deciding on both, Alina took a sip from the glass and placed a hand on the woman's thigh as she set the glass down in front of her. "You know," she started, watching for the reaction she would get now that they were touching again - or better, now that Alina was touching her. "That's some great gin and tonic," just some random words while the waited, fingers slightly tapping against the woman's thigh.

At the sound of those two particular words together Frannie's eyes dropped closed as it washed over her. She'd gone from indulging so deeply the previous week to dodging titles from submissive parties on this trip left and right and she was drunk enough to let those words settle in her and warm her. By the time her eyes were open again she was already smiling, pink cheeks be damned. Frannie felt bold under the praise, she allowed the woman's touch to come to her thigh and she held her gaze as she spoke but as the bartender approached with that other drink she felt herself automatically shrinking away. Something in the back of her mind reminding her to be careful, even when she was drinking. "You're telling me." She said, pushing a hand through her hair simply to give her body something to do. It was getting hotter in there, Frannie was sure of it. "I'd have to agree...Miss."

Being right always felt like a victory to Alina and the smile she got after the praise she gave the woman felt like victory number one of that night. Moving her hand higher, she was moving closer when the bartender approached them and she noticed the her posture changing again. Alina leaned back, squeezing the woman's thigh as she spoke. She sipped from the new drink, shaking her head then. "It might sound cheesy, but it certainly doesn't taste as good as that one," she eyed the drink they had been sharing, allowing herself to laugh softly at her own bad pick up line. "So, gin and tonic good girl," Alina started again now that they were... alone. Not the correct word, but still. "I think we should totes have some fun tonight. You and me," she leaned forward, smiling, and just like that she was a bit too close again. "What do you say? You sound like my type of fun."

Frannie couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, either the way she was being called that or the squeeze to her thigh but goosebumps quickly rose along her skin and when the offer was proposed she nearly choked. A flash of possibilities suddenly made their way through Frannie's thoughts and as she went to go put the glass back down she missed the bar entirely, spilling the drink in discussion across both their laps. She gasped and reacted trying to reach for it and right it. "Oh gosh!" She found herself saying and hurriedly gathered tiny square cocktail napkins from the corner of the bar to help soak up the mess. "I am not usually this clumsy," she promised, unsure if it were actually the truth. "I'm so sorry, I can't believe I just did that."

For a whole second, Alina just sat there trying to understand what had just happened. And then she was laughing softly, shaking her head at the other woman as she noticed she was trying to clean up the mess. She thought about letting her know that if she wanted to undress Alina this bad, all she needed to do was ask - but she felt like a comment like that might just break her. "It's okay, I have more of this back home," she pointed at her dress. "But we might need something more than cocktail napkins to dry these off," Alina said with a chuckle, leaning back. She thought about it for a second, and shrugged. "C'mon, let's dry you off," she hopped off her stall, a kind smile on her lips. "Take it for real this time," offering the woman one of her hands to hold, Alina made sure to give her a wink too.

In truth, Frannie was still recovering from the my type of fun comment. Her heart rate had sped up and at that point after making such a mess she knew her fluster had to be evident. She forced herself to take a deep breath and was immediately soothed by the woman's nice words. She wasn't angry, or bothered at all it seemed. Butterflies erupted in Frannie's stomach at the wink and she took another deep breath as an attempt to steady herself. The offered hand didn't sound like a question and Frannie barely hesitated to follow through, grasping her companies hand within her own. "You as well." She asserted, frowning at the wet spot on the pretty dress and momentarily getting distracted with her eyes hovering over the hemline. "Please," Frannie began, unsure where she was going until she refocused on the woman's eyes. "you'll allow me to help you too, right Miss?" Her voice had dropped midway, her grip momentarily tightening and her thoughts a mile a minute. Internally cursing herself for being truly incapable of properly flirting.

Alina was definitely not about to let some random drink on her dress ruin her night, at least not when she could easily buy a new one with a text message. She would rather have her attention on the woman in front of her that seemed to calm down enough at her words, making Alina smile again. She was about to lead them towards the bathroom when she heard her voice, making her spot and turn around to listen. Bars and their lack of... everything that allows conversation. Alina's smile went from a smile to a smirk and to a smile again as she heard the woman speaking, waiting until she could tell she was done. Leaning closer, she moved enough to be able to whisper in her ear. "I'm sure you can do more than just help me with this dress, right?" Alina leaned back as if she hadn't said anything, tightening the grip on her hand back and tugging just enough so the other woman would follow her.

Frannie's knees went weak before the woman even made it close to her ear, its was something about the look in her eye that told Frannie everything she needed to know before she even heard it. Still, her breath hitched and though she could barely find it in her to not sit back down at the bar in order to catch her breath she found herself nodding. Not just that, she gave a final glace around the bar over her shoulder and allowed herself to be lead away, knowing exactly what was about to happen. She didn't think she would be back to the random bar hook up so quickly but the opportunity was suddenly there and with a small reprieve from campus and more than a couple drinks in her system Frannie felt bold enough to not say no. The desire was certainly there and she didn't need to speak to agree, she only need follow along.

Alina was happy to see the woman following along, happy that her invitation was accepted, happy that tonight was just getting more and more fun. She couldn't help but notice that she seemed nervous about their whole interaction, but at the same time she was bold enough to follow along. To let Alina lead her somewhere. She weaved through the crowd easily, quickly finding the bathroom and letting them both inside, making sure to lock the door once they were both in. Wasting time wasn't something Alina was known for, but teasing was. She pressed her back against the door and pulled the other woman closer by the hand, her smile turned into a soft smirk as she did so. "Why don't you tell me what you want?" it was a suggestion, not a question. And Alina made sure her tone showed that.

The door was locked and they were in the bathroom under the pretense of drying off but that had clearly been quickly forgotten by both of them. By the time Frannie was being pulled closer she hadn't a thought in her mind. The privacy afforded her more freedom than sitting at the bar could have and she suddenly was fighting with herself on whether she wanted to kneel or kiss the woman. She so badly wanted both. "What I want is..." Frannie paused, squeezed the hand still in hers as if to gather the courage for it, pressed her lips together for a moment and said, "to do whatever it is you want me to, Miss." The words coming breathlessly and with a sigh of relief that just saying them eased in her.

Alina had to fight the urge to clap and show too much excitement at the woman's answer. She knew it, she just knew it she was her type of fun. And she would be repeating that a lot that night. The door was locked and she hoped no one would bother them for now, or whoever knocked would have the decency to know what was going on. Watching the woman relaxing in front of her, Alina's mind was filling up with ideas and she was almost sad they'd probably never see each other again. So, she didn't waste any time at all. Smirking, and letting go of the woman's hand, Alina wrapped her arms around her neck and pulled her down for a kiss.

[neerasrealm]

STAN LAUGHING DAD AT ALL TIMES dkfkkdkdkdkskd MY HEART IS FLUTTERING!!!!!!!! i promise this is the last request (maybe ffkfkd) pls PLS PRETTY PLS do sum where one of the twins has a secret boyfriend and suddenly starts to wear a bunch of makeup and style her hair all pretty and lj ends up finding out by seeing them together KFKFKDKDK IM HAVING SO MUCH FUN I LOVE YOU BYE

LAUGHING! DAD! LAUGHING! DAD! HIM DEALING WITH TEENAGE DAUGHTERS IS SO FUNNY TO ME I LOVE DOING THIS. I decided to use the names Juliette and Jasmine for these two (as suggested by another anon). This isn’t relevant but. hc that the daughter from the second story where jack had to comfort one of them was Juliette. Lowkey im making entire personalities for these two god help me enjoy :)

Laughing Jack thought of himself as a pretty good dad. He was loving and supportive of his two girls, and always had their backs. They were happy to go to him and tell him everything, and in return he always told them he loved them and supported them no matter what. But of course, he didn’t force them to do any of that. It was a matter of mutual love, mutual trust. Jack wasn’t an overbearing father, in fact, he was quite relaxed. He knew his girls could hold their own, and they lived in a mansion full of demons and serial killers! If anyone decided to pick on the girls, they’d live (and probably die) to regret it. So when he heard footsteps creeping down the stairs behind where he sat in his big comfy armchair, and someone tip-toeing towards the front door, he wasn’t expecting it to actually be one of his two twin daughters.

He looked over at the girl as she quietly creeped towards the front door. She was dressed in a red leather jacket, and under it Jack could see she was wearing a short black skirt and fishnet stockings along with red high heels he couldn’t remember seeing before. Her hair was done up elaborately, and she’d even curled it. Jack blinked in surprise for a moment before smiling and arching a brow. ‘’...Jasmine?’’ he called out. The girl jumped and whirled around to stare at her. Looking at her face, Jack could see she’d taken the time to put makeup on. She wore some simple red eyeshadow, black mascara and some sparkly red lipstick. Jack also noted her contour, which made her cheekbones look sharper and more noticeable than normal. He looked her over for a moment and smiled. ‘’Ye look good!’’ he finally chirped. He had to admit, he felt a bit of secondhand pride. He had been the one to first teach both of his girls about makeup and hairstyling, so seeing her do something so elaborate all by herself brought a smile to his face. 

‘’Oh er- t-thanks da.’’ she stammered out, shifting nervously on her feet. She forced a smile. Jack chuckled a bit, thinking she was just embarrassed at the compliment. 

‘’Ya ‘eaded somewhere?’’

‘’Oh! Uh- yeh, yeh I’m er- goin’ ta see some friends.’’ she replied quickly. Jack nodded. Oh, friends! Odd...normally his daughters told him a little bit in advance if they were planning to go out- but maybe it was just a spur of the moment thing. Besides, she’d already gone through all the effort of dressing up and making herself look so nice, Jack certainly wasn’t going to keep her home!

‘’Ah! Awrigh’ then,’’ he turned back to the TV show he’d been watching. ‘’Ave fun, luv.’’ 

‘’Thanks da.’’ Jasmine smiled a bit and walked more confidently towards the door. Jack glanced at her and frowned.

‘’...’ey kiddo?’’ he suddenly said. She paused and looked over her shoulder at him, looking worried. ‘’...do ye need money?’’ he gave her a wide smile and reached into his puffy sleeve. Before his daughter could even mumble out a flustered ‘nah, I’m okay’, he pulled out a couple paper bills and stretched his arm over to her. She smiled gently and took the money. ‘’Buy yerself lunch ‘er somefink, awrigh’ swee’ear’?’’ 

‘’Yes da.’’ she gently tucked the bills into the pocket of her jacket and looked up at him again. She smiled a bit wider. ‘’See ya la’er.’’

‘’Ave fun!’’ Jack called back. He settled back down into his chair, content with himself. Just as he was relaxing again, he was interrupted by a second voice at the top of the stairs.

‘’...ye le’ ‘er go ou’ lookin’ like tha’??’’ 

Jack looked up at the sound of his second daughter’s voice. He looked up at her and frowned. ‘’Yeh?’’ he tilted his head. ‘’Somefink wrong?’’

‘’No, i’s jus’ tha’ she’s goin’ on a da’e is all…’’ Juliette leaned nonchalantly against the wall, smirking a bit as she spoke. 

‘’...a da’e?’’

‘’Yeh. Wiv a boy, y’know, nofink big.’’ Jack stared at her in astonishment. ‘’No’ tha’ big a deal, she only spent two ‘ours doin’ ‘er ‘air up an’ lookin’ all nice fer’im.’’

Jack stood up quickly and stared at her. ‘’Well- who is ‘e?? Do I know ‘im?’’

‘’E’s tha’ scrawny lad tha’ works a’ th’ music shop in town.’’ she examined her nails as she spoke. ‘’She’s fancied ‘im since she me’ ‘im. No idea why, ‘e’s kinda spo’y.’’

Jack frowned and looked at the ground. Ohh, he knew who she was talking about. A boy with wispy, greasy blonde hair and a nose ring who always seemed a little out of it. Your typical teenager. He was just surprised he’d never put two and two together and realised his own daughter liked him. He’d always thought she was just really into music. ‘’Do ye know where they went off ta?’’

‘’Mmm…’’ she spent a long, long moment thinking about it. ‘’I fink she mentioned th’ place bu’...I can’t qui’e remember i’.’’ she gave her dad a mischievous grin. Jack groaned and reached into his sleeve, pulling out another thirty dollars. He stretched his arm up and the girl grabbed the notes, smiling in satisfaction. She was a smart one, Jack would give her that. ‘’Th’ shoppin’ centre in town. Fink they mentioned ge’in lunch an’ summat.’’ 

‘’Righ’.’’ Jack turned on his heel and towards the door. ‘’I’m g’nna go er- check on yer sister-’’ 

‘’Don’t le’ ‘er see ya. Jus’ stalk ‘er from a distance.’’

‘’Thanks luv I will.’’ 

Jack walked quickly across town to the local mall. He stuck to backstreets and kept his eyes peeled for his daughter. He almost thought he wouldn’t find her until, when leaning out from behind a trash can, his eyes spotted a red leather jacket in the crowd. He gasped and stared at her. Alright, alright, calm down. He wasn’t going to storm over and tell her off- she was in love. Kids in love do stupid things, and hey, maybe this boy was nice! Maybe he was like her dashing Romeo- actually no that'd be more fitting for his other daughter Juliette...Aladdin then? Wasn't Aladdin a thief who lied about being rich though? Jack definitely didn't want someone like that dating his daughter…

OH WAIT HE’S HERE- Jack’s eyes widened as the boy walked up to his beloved daughter. He examined him carefully. The two just waved a bit in greeting as he casually walked up to her. They talked for a little bit before walking off towards the entrance to the mall. Perfectly innocent, right? WRONG! The ungrateful daughter stealer hadn’t even brought flowers! He wouldn’t even hold her hand as they walked! Not to mention his outfit. A red and white baseball cap, a track jacket of the same colours, black jeans that were ripped and old worn trainers. Also in red and white. Would it be too much for him to even put on the tiniest bit of lipstick? Honestly! Jack wasn’t a romantic but he knew low effort when he saw it. Honestly, men these days…

But fine, fine. He’d give the boy another chance. Maybe he forgot the flowers at home and maybe he thought the dress code was casual. No biggie, no biggie. He slinked over to the mall’s entrance and slipped inside. He stayed hidden in the crowd- or- as hidden as a giant monochrome clown could be. Things seemed pretty normal. The two of them walked along, talking calmly. The boy seemed to be laughing a lot, which made Jack proud. If someone was going to date his daughter, they had to have a sense of humour. He followed them into various stores. A record shop, a Hot Topic, Claire’s and a couple other places. They seemed to get along good, though Jack couldn’t hear very much of their conversations. He’d listened to them talk excitedly in the record shop about music, and in Claire’s he’d watched them mess around trying on accessories. They were...cute. They made a good couple and seeing the way his daughter laughed and grinned, and the way the boy blushed in her presence- it made Jack soften. He was wrong about this boy...he made his daughter happy, really happy, and he was more than happy to let them be together.

As he followed after them a few feet behind, his eyes stayed locked on their hands. They were holding hands. Jack was over the moon at that. His little girl was in love! Her first date was going good! He watched from a little bit away as they sat down at a food court. Once he was sure they were settled in and stuck into both their lunch and conversation, he wandered over and took a seat a little bit away where he could keep watching them. 

And then...Jasmine glanced to her side, just for a moment, and then snapped her head over to him. Her eyes locked with her father’s from across the food court and slowly, a look of horror crossed her face. She looked quickly to her date before he could notice something was wrong and stood up from her chair. Jack watched her say something to him before calmly walking away. As she got closer to where her dad sat though, her strides became angrier, and her face more enraged. Jack gulped.

Oh no.

She stopped calmly in front of his table and folded her arms. It was silent for a long, tense moment. ‘’E-ey swee’ear’.’’ Jack murmured, forcing a smile.

‘’Wha’ are ye doin’ ‘ere?’’ Jasmine growled back. 

‘’I wuz jus’ checkin’ on ye, ‘onest!’’

‘’Checkin’ on me?!’’ she snapped back. ‘’Stalkin’ me more like!’’

‘’Well ye’re th’ one tha’ didn’ tell me ye were da’in’ some’ne!’’

‘’Becuz I knew ye’d pull this crap!’’ Jasmine looked about ready to hit her father. It honestly wouldn’t surprise him if she did. ‘’I’m no’ a li’le girl! I can do wha’ I want! Juliette has a fella and ye don’t do this wiv ‘er!’’

‘’Tha’s diff’ren’-’’

‘’She’s the one tha’ told ya abou’ this, isn’t she?’’

Jack hesitated for a moment. ‘’...yeh.’’

‘’I’m g’nna kill tha’ poxy ra’!’’ she buried her face in her hands and groaned. Jack reached up and patted her shoulder gently. She looked up at him, still glaring.

‘’...I like ye’re boyfrien’. ‘E seems nice.’’ He murmured gently. ‘’I jus’ wanted ta make sure i’ went okay...yous’re a cu’e couple.’’ he smiled up at her. Jasmine paused for a moment before sighing.

‘’Ye’re such a fockin’ eejit, da.’’ she muttered. Jack laughed gently and pulled his hand away. He stood up from his chair. ‘’...ye mean i’ abou’ ‘im?’’

He nodded. ‘’I do.’’ he smiled down at her. ‘’Tell ye wha’, I’ll go back on ‘ome an’ pretend I didn’ see any ‘f this. Ye can keep goin wiv yer da’e an’ f’rge’ abou’ me.’’

Jasmine stared at him for a moment before smiling gently. ‘’Fine.’’ she sighed. She stepped back from him. ‘’Ge’ ou’a ‘ere b’fore ‘e sees me talkin’ ta ya. Don’ wanna make ‘im mee’ th’ folks on th’ first da’e.’’

Jack laughed and nodded. ‘’Alrigh’,’’ he pat her head once more before stepping away from her. ‘’Ave fun, luv.’’

‘’I will, da.’’

[queenofcarrots]

Manuscripts in Star Wars (And Star Wars Fan Fiction)

This is the text of a talk originally presented at the conference Fan Cultures and the Premodern World at Oxford University in July, 2019, organized by Dr. Juliana Dresvina of the Oxford History Faculty. This presentation represents a collaboration between myself and Dr Brandon Hawke of Rhode Island College, and is essentially a summation of our video project Sacred Texts: Codices Far, Far Away, (Introduction to the series at that link) and examples below will include links to brief conversations where Brandon and I talk about the examples in a bit more detail. This has also been posted on my academic blog but I’m cross-posting here to reach a different audience.

Hi, My name is Dot Porter, and I want to start by thanking Juliana for the wonderful organization of this conference, and also for including me in the program. This is very different from the kind of conference I normally present at – in my day job I’m a special collections curator at the University of Pennsylvania, specializing in medieval manuscripts, their digitization, and their post-digital lives. Basically I get paid to digitize medieval manuscripts and then play with them. (I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the Bibliotheca Philadelphiensis project, funded by the Council on Library and Information Resources, which is just finished, and through which we digitized and made available for reuse more than 465 codices from institutions in Philadelphia)

Aside from my family there are two things in life I adore: medieval manuscripts, and Star Wars. I must admit that while I am a scholar of manuscripts, of a sort, I am also a fan. I love manuscripts – the way they look, feel, smell; I love to hold a manuscript and think about all the other people who have touched it, and consider the signs of use that imply their long histories. This interest has led to current work on conceiving of medieval manuscripts as transformative works themselves, first presented at Leeds 2018 and work I’m continuing looking specifically as Books of Hours. (My original draft of this presentation featured some of this work, but it threatened to take over, so I axed it all; a blog post of my Leeds paper is on my blog, if you’re curious).

While I am arguably a manuscript scholar, I am most definitely not a scholar of fandom studies – you will, I’m sure, find my theory wanting – nor am I a scholar of Star Wars, but I am a fan. I do the things that fans do. I’m on Tumblr, although that platform is pretty dead now, and I have a fandom Twitter account, which is much more active. I write and consume fan fiction, and I regularly commission artwork to illustrate my stories and stories I would like to write. I have written exactly one notable meta, which was even picked up by the AV Club – they actually cited me, unlike many of the other websites, which only cited the person who stole my work and posted it on Reddit!

In Star Wars: The Last Jedi, released in December 2017, we were introduced, for the first time, to manuscripts in the Star Wars universe. I had avoided trailers and spoilers, so the first time I saw this was in the theater, and I was, as the kids say, shooketh. Not only one manuscript, but a whole shelf-full of them! And they’re important. Rey, our heroine, has been sent to the island of Ahch-to to bring Luke Skywalker back to help the Resistance, led by Luke’s sister General Leia Organa, defeat the First Order. Rey has been there for a day or so, following Luke around, making no headway, when she is called to the Uneti tree, a large, hollow, Force-sensitive tree that houses these manuscripts. It’s in the company of these books that Rey and Luke finally communicate with each other, when Rey admits that she has only recently come to the Force and that she needs Luke to train her to be a Jedi, and when Luke grudgingly agrees to give her some lessons, but also tells her that the Jedi must die. Exciting stuff, and the books are there to hear it.

According to Star Wars The Last Jedi: The Visual Dictionary, Luke Skywalker scoured the galaxy for these texts and collected them himself, storing them in the tree that we see in the film. So these texts weren’t originally all in one collection, they are from many different planets, potentially written in ten different places, ten different times, ten different languages and alphabets, although there’s only one we ever see in the film. The starwars.com blog post “Inside the Lucasfilm Archives: The Jedi Texts” gives us an up-close look at the prop book that was shown in the film; as you can see it’s a real book, written and bound, and even damaged. There are manuscripts in our collection at Penn that look not very unlike this book. It is a real manuscript.

This is one manuscript in the universe. What else do we know about manuscripts in star wars in general? To be honest: not much. But we do know that it is rare to write by hand (as opposed to writing with digital technology like data pads). In Claudia Gray’s novel Bloodlines, which takes place six years before The Last Jedi, Leia Organa is preparing for a fancy party when she finds a handwritten note at her seat, and she’s shocked: “Virtually nobody wrote any longer; it had been years since Leia had seen actual words handwritten in ink on anything but historical documents.” So it appears that, by the time the current films take place, there are no longer manuscripts being actively written in the galaxy, or at least it’s very rare.

Interestingly there is one character in the Sequel Trilogy who it is suggested knows how to write by hand: Kylo Ren, formerly Ben Solo. There is a scene – the same scene is actually shown three times, from three different points of view – where a young padawan Ben is sleeping and his Uncle, Luke Skywalker, comes to him and looks into his head, sensing great darkness in his dreams. Ben calls his lightsaber to either attack his uncle or defend himself against him, depending on the version of the scene, and in one of these shots we can see that he has a calligraphy set in his bedroom. We can see the set here, in a screenshot of his desk just before he calls his lightsaber over – which knocks over the pen and inkwell and jar of parchment scrolls in the process – and in The Art of Star Wars: The Last Jedi.

What else do we know about these specific books? There is concept art in The Art of Star Wars: The Last Jedi; including six internal pages and six shots of the bindings.

I remember looking at the concept art and thinking how alike and different they were from the manuscripts I’ve had the pleasure of working with at Penn, and I discovered that my Twitter mutual Brandon Hawke, an Assistant Professor of English at Rhode Island College, was having many of the same thoughts that I was. So in October of 2018, Brandon came down to Penn and we sat for hours in front of a green screen and talked about manuscripts and Star Wars, comparing books in the Penn collections to what we see of the manuscripts in the concept art. We’ve been posting snippets of our discussions on the Schoenberg Institute YouTube channel, and there’s a link at the top there if you want to check them out. So for most of the rest of this paper I’ll be walking through some of the possible comparisons between real manuscripts and the Star Wars manuscripts. I want to stress that we did this for fun, and not for science, and that we’re limited by the collections at Penn and by our own knowledge.

Consider yourself warned: The remainder of this presentation is essentially an educated fan, raving.

As far as Brandon and I have been able to determine, this is a previously unknown script in the Star Wars universe. When I saw it my mind immediately went to Ge’ez, shown here in an early 20th century book of Hymns from Ethiopia. There’s something about the blockiness that is just slightly curved, and a few of the letter forms are slightly similar although I don’t think that’s necessarily meaningful. (video)

We also made a comparison with Coptic, which is thinner, more curved, and perhaps a closer match. (video)

For the third example we looked not at the text, but at its layout on the page. We found a similarity with this 16th century collection of Persian poetry, both its illuminated header (similar in aspect to the illuminated blue line of text in the center of the ancient Jedi text) and the framing of the text. (video)

Aside from text, it is clear that the concept art of pages supplied to us here represent astronomical texts. This is really not surprising, considering that in the Star Wars universe we have a galaxy that seems to have been very closely connected, between planets and cultures, for a very long time, and so it makes sense that even the most ancient texts would be concerned with objects in the system – stars and planets and moons – and how they related to and interact with one another. And this is a major concern in medieval astronomical texts, too: these texts illustrate people trying to make sense of the system they live in, in the best way they know.

One of the pages in the jedi texts is the symbol of the Galactic Republic, but placed on some kind of chart, with characters dispersed through the chart and text – perhaps labels – along the outside. We found a similarity with this chart in LJS 57, a 14th century astronomical anthology from Spain. I don’t know exactly what this chart represents but I can tell you that astronomical texts are full of similar charts; it was one of the ways that medieval people made sense of the data they had available to them. (video)

Something similar is happening here, in LJS 449, a 15th century German medical and astronomical miscellany. These charts are perhaps a bit simpler than the Spanish chart, but they have that attractive blue coloring. Both the coloring and the arrangement of data around the circle reminded Brandon and me of the diagrams on this page of the Jedi texts. (video)

The next three slides show diagrams from LJS 26, a mid-13th century copy of Johannes de Sacro Bosco’s, Algorismus and Tractatum de sphaera, an immensely popular text that was copied and translated and commented upon from the time it was written in the early 13th century (it is possible that our copy was written during Sacrobosco’s lifetime) through the 16th century. It is full of diagrams illustrating the movement of the planets, and the sun, and the moon in relation to the earth. I personally find these diagrams most reminiscent of the two pages on the bottom left, although I feel like their organization suggests a sense of scale that is lacking in the medieval diagrams. (video)

Medieval astronomers only had to think about the earth, and the moon, and the sun, and a few other planets. On the other hand, the Star Wars universe operates on a whole other level – a galaxy with countless star systems and planets that aren’t even charted. When I look at these diagrams I see a clever attempt to illustrate scale using the relatively primitive technology of ink and paper in place of the star charts and 3D maps that we see in the films.

On the other hand, there are some really simple 1:1 comparisons to be made, such as this diagram, which pretty clearly illustrates the phases of a moon. (video)

I want to take a quick look at the bindings of these manuscripts, particularly this piece of concept art, which is quite similar to the prop that we see in the film.

This has a fairly standard binding structure, quite similar to LJS 102, the Ethiopic manuscript we looked at earlier, except for the front cover, which is built of three separate pieces that are obviously connected together. In western bindings, if a wooden cover were a composite of multiple pieces, we would expect that to be obscured, as in this late 13th century Catalonian manuscripts (It’s hard to tell, which is the point, but this cover is made of three pieces of wood).

The only example of a cover like this I’ve seen is from the Walters Art Museum, this 14th century Ethiopian Gospel book. The cover was broken and then sewn back together, but this was the result of an accident, not done on purpose.

My colleague Alberto Campagnolo also suggested that it is similar to the Chinese practice of writing on bamboo strips and binding them together, as in this 18th century example.

This is one instance where the artists who created these concepts have done an excellent job with suggesting a manuscript culture – in fact, several manuscript cultures, cultures that use what is available to them. There are two manuscripts here that appear to be bound in decorated tusks, one that has what appear to be shells embedded in a leather binding, and another that might be bound in hairy skin or – I like to think – had the binding grown on it underground. In any case these all suggest books written in different places, perhaps at different times, and as a manuscript scholar I find that fascinating.

Following up on this I wanted to see how the concept of the manuscripts was received by writers of fan fiction. As a fan author myself I have written a few stories featuring the ancient Jedi texts, but given my interests that made sense; I was curious to see what other authors have done with them. I think there’s more extensive work to be done here, but in reading through the 40 or so stories I was able to find (by searching AO3 for ancient jedi texts, and the “jedi text” tag) I discovered not surprisingly that the stories focused on the text of the books, not on their physical appearance (which is at least partially due to fan fiction being a written medium, vs. film being a visual medium) and that there are three main themes that can appear by themselves or be combined:

Rey can read the texts on her own, or she needs help (Kylo Ren, C3PO, Obi Wan Kenobi’s force ghost)

The translation is used to further the story (whether or not it happens)

The texts do something (e.g., magic spells)

What will happen next? Will there be manuscripts in the Rise of Skywalker, the final film in this last trilogy? Of course I hope so, and it seems likely. The Uneti tree was struck by lightning and burned, but Rey took the manuscripts with her (here is a screenshot of a drawer in the Millennium Falcon, at the very end of the film, showing the books clearly safe and tucked away)

and in the Poe Dameron comic #27 we learn that Rey has been working with C3PO to translate the texts.

And there’s also the spectre of Kylo Ren with a calligraphy set; if he had access to these manuscripts when he was studying with Luke Skywalker, it’s possible that he has read and perhaps even annotated some of the books. Only time will tell, and I for one can’t wait for December.