#the thousand fictions

[starcurtain]

Teyvat's "Most Down Bad" Award Goes to Alhaitham for a Second Year Running

Seeing everyone making fun of Alhaitham for his "stalkerish" tendencies in this event is funny, because I feel like a lot of people missed that "Be literally everywhere Kaveh is" has been Alhaitham's MO from the day Kaveh appeared in the game.

From only grabbing his house keys after Kaveh returned from the desert (he couldn't have had both sets of keys at the end of the Archon Quest unless he went home and got Kaveh's copy) to ditching conversations to get back to his house only after Kaveh came home, to showing up without any warning or explanation in Kaveh's hangout with some ridiculous excuse about hearing his voice through noise-cancelling headphones... Refusing to offer any help in the Temple of Silence story quest other than staying in the library with Kaveh...

Since when does Alhaitham willingly cover anyone else's duties?

But this trend of "Be everywhere Kaveh is" didn't start when they were adults. It was already in place when they were still Akademiya students--and it's a trend that didn't end even when they had their fight.

Even when they weren't speaking, Alhaitham dogged Kaveh's every step through published responses to Kaveh's research articles in academic journals. He insisted on keeping a line of communication between himself and Kaveh open, even if the only way to do that was through very public ideological clashes. Pulling Kaveh's pigtails to get his attention lolol. It's implied that, for at least the few years between their fight and Kaveh moving in, this was the only communication between them--Alhaitham's refusal to allow their connection to entirely fade away. (And the fact that this is revealed in Kaveh's character stories--through his precious journal that records the moments of his life that had the most impact on him--shows just how deeply he values the fact that Alhaitham didn't give up.)

Another relevant side note: Alhaitham never asked Kaveh to give up his half of their house. Knowing half of it belonged to Kaveh, knowing that Kaveh may one day want to reclaim his part of it, knowing that it was listed as theirs, Alhaitham moved into the house and made zero effort to change its ownership. He was completely fine with living in "his and Kaveh's house." The stories suggest it was only months later (or even longer) that Kaveh even noticed he had the house, and he transferred away ownership of his portion without Alhaitham ever asking him (or even seemingly wanting him) to do so.

Please, let that sink in. Alhaitham actively left his grandmother's (presumably comfortable) house to move into "his and Kaveh's house," with no apparent explanation for why, and after doing so, he made no attempt to change that "his and Kaveh's" label. He moved into the house with no promise that Kaveh wouldn't show up on the doorstep the very next day and move in too. It almost feels like another deliberate provocation--I've moved into our house, are you going to come stop me? LBR, if Alhaitham had had his way, Kaveh would have been living there with him from Day 1...

There's also the fact that Kaveh literally can't write on a single message board anywhere in the entire nation of Sumeru without Alhaitham hunting his messages down and responding to them (which absolutely no one else does, by the way).

"NUH-UH!" "UH-HUH." "NUH-UH!"

Alhaitham's own character stories tell us explicitly that one of Alhaitham's defining character traits is "He is never where you need him to be," yet somehow...

Shot, and chaser:

Any time Kaveh is in the slightest bit of need or danger or just wants Alhaitham near, Alhaitham is "coincidentally" exactly where Kaveh needs him to be, whenever Kaveh needs him to be there.

Alhaitham didn't just "happen" to run into Kaveh in Port Ormos, an entirely different city from where he was supposed to be working. He didn't just "happen" to read the same terrible book as Kaveh when we know he otherwise would not waste a moment of his time on poorly-written literature...

He didn't just "happen" to appear when Kaveh was upset and needed a distraction in the House of Daena during Kaveh's hangout. He didn't just "happen" to be sitting around waiting when Kaveh needed answers after the Archon Quest. He didn't just "happen" to find Kaveh's academic publications and every single message board posting and respond to them at length and in public.

Which is exactly what Kaveh's mother told Kaveh he needed.

What level of down bad is "Abusing your powers as an Akademiya employee to keep tabs on your crush's library loans"? Just asking for a friend.

The only person for whom Alhaitham just "happens" to be available is Kaveh, over and over and over again--because he is very deliberately making himself a constant presence in Kaveh's life.

(Like, out of all things, I think people really underestimate the devs deliberately paralleling the romantic relationship between Kaveh's mother and father with Kaveh and Alhaitham's relationship. If you want to point to one thing that says "These two characters are intentionally queer-coded," it doesn't get any more obvious than this.)

Alhaitham, are you not embarrassed to be this transparent??? 🫣

[langernameohnebedeutung]

ngl, I'm beginning to take issue with how in conversations about anti-intellectualism almost automatically, the face of girls and women will be slapped on the problem.

[thelockedchoom]

Harrow the Ninth remains my favorite book in the series like

Two girls under 25 do enemies to just deeply intimate enemies. One of those girls gets a lobotomy (from the other girl!) to try and forget her ex, setting off a cascade of events which include holding ghosts hostage to play house and the eventual resurrection of what may well be the embodied spirit of a dead planet.

All while two 10,000 year old toxic coworkers try to kill god.

[brian-in-finance]

Photos: Screen Rant

⚠️ This post is ridiculously long. It includes three passages from Bees that relate to Season 7’s surprising cliffhanger ending, and an explanation from Diana Gabaldon on what put that crazy idea in the scriptwriter/showrunner heads.

From “the book”

"This is all I have," she said, her voice hoarse as a young toad's. "Just this and her wock — locket."

"This?" Jamie stirred the little pile gently with a big forefinger and withdrew a small brass oval, dangling on a chain. "Is it a miniature of Jane, then, or maybe a lock of her hair?"

Fanny shook her head, taking the locket from him.

"No," she said. "It's a picture of our muv — mother." She slid a thumbnail into the side of the locket and flicked it open. I bent forward to look, but the miniature inside was hard to see, shadowed as it was by Jamie's body.

"May I?"

Fanny handed me the locket and I turned to hold it close to the candle. The woman inside had dark, softly curly hair like Fanny's — and I thought I could make out a resemblance to Jane in the nose and set of the chin, though it wasn't a particularly skillful rendering.

Behind me, I heard Jamie say, quite casually, "Frances, no man will ever take ye against your will, while I live."

There was a startled silence, and I turned round to see Fanny staring up at him. He touched her hand, very gently.

"D'ye believe me, Frances?" he said quietly.

"Yes," she whispered, after a long moment, and all the tension left her body in a sigh like the east wind.

Jemmy leaned against me, head pressing my elbow, and I realized that I was just standing there, my eyes full of tears. I blotted them hastily on my sleeve and pressed the locket closed. Or tried to; it slipped in my fingers and I saw that there was a name inscribed inside it, opposite the miniature.

Faith, it said.

…

Faith. Our mother, Fanny had said. I'd looked more than once at the miniature in the locket — but it was too small to show anything more than a young woman with dark hair, maybe naturally curly, maybe curled and dressed in the fashion of the times.

No. It can't be. I rolled over for the dozenth time, settling on my stomach and burying my face in the pillow, in hopes of losing myself in the scent of clean linen and goose down.

"It can't be what, Sassenach?" Jamie's voice spoke in my ear, sleepily resigned. “And if it can't, can it not wait 'til dawn?"

I rolled onto my side in a rustle of bedding, facing him.

"I'm sorry," I said, and touched him apologetically. His hand took mine automatically, warm and firm. "I didn't realize I'd said it out loud. I was... just thinking about Fanny's locket."

Faith.

"Ach," he said, and stretched himself a little, groaning. "Ye mean the name. Faith?"

"Well... yes. I mean — it can't possibly... have anything to do with—”

"It's no an uncommon name, Sassenach." His thumb rubbed gently over my knuckles. "Of course ye'd... feel it. I did, too."

"Did you?" I said softly. I cleared my throat a little. "I — I don't really do it anymore, but for a time, just—just every now and then — I'd think of her, of our Faith — out of nowhere. I'd imagine I could feel her near me."

"Imagine what she might look like — grown?" His voice was soft, too. "I did that, sometimes. In prison, mostly; too much time to think, in the nights. Alone."

I made a small sound and hitched closer, laying my head in the curve of his shoulder, and his arm came round me. We lay still, silent, listening to the night and the house around us. Full of our family— but with one small angel hovering in the calm sweet air, peaceful as rising smoke.

"The locket," I said at last. "It can't possibly have anything whatever to do with—”

"No, it can't," he said, a cautious note in his voice. "But what are ye thinking, Sassenach? Because ye're no thinking what ye just said, and I ken that fine."

That was true, and a spasm of guilt at being found out tightened my body.

"It can't be," I said, and swallowed. "It's only…” My words died away and his hand rubbed between my shoulder blades.

"Well, ye'd best tell me, Sassenach," he said. "Nay matter how foolish it is, neither one of us will sleep until ye do."

"Well... you know what Roger told me, about the doctor he met in the Highlands, and the blue light?"

"I do. What…"

"Roger asked me if I'd ever seen blue light like that — when I was healing people."

The hand on my back stilled.

"Have ye?" He sounded guarded, though I didn't know whether he was afraid of finding out something he didn't want to know, or just finding out that I was losing my mind.

"No," I said. "Or not — well, no. But... I have seen it. Felt it. Twice. Just a flash, when Malva's baby died." Died in my hands, covered with his mother's blood. “But when Faith was born, when I was so ill. I was dying — really dying, I felt it — and Master Raymond came."

"Ye told me that much," he said. "Is there more?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "But this is what I thought happened." And I told him, about seeing my bones glow blue through the flesh of my arms, the feeling of the light spreading through my body and the infection dying, leaving me limp, but whole and healing.

"So... um... I know this is nothing but pure fantasy, the sort of thing you think in the middle of the night when you can't sleep..."

He made a low noise, indicating that I should stop apologizing and get on with it. So I took a deep breath and did, whispering the words into his chest.

"Master Raymond was there. What if — if he found... Faith... and was able to... somehow bring her… back?"

Dead silence. I swallowed and went on.

"People… aren't always dead, even though it looks like it. Look at old Mrs. Wilson! Every doctor knows — or has heard — about people who've been declared dead and wake up later in the morgue."

"Or in a coffin." He sounded grim, and a shudder went over me. "Aye, I've heard stories like that. But — a wee babe and one born too soon — how…”

"I don't know how!" I burst out. "I said it's complete fantasy, it can't be true! But — but —" My throat thickened and my voice squeaked.

"But ye wish it were?" His hand cupped the back of my head and his voice was quiet again. "Aye. But... if it was, mo chridhe, why would he not have told ye? Ye saw him again, no? After he'd healed ye, I mean."

"Yes." I shuddered, momentarily feeling the King of France's Star Chamber close around me, the smell of the King's perfume, of dragon's blood and wine in the air — and two men before me, awaiting my sentence of death.

"Yes, I know. But — when the Comte died, Raymond was banished, and they took him away. He couldn't have told me then, and he might not have been able to come back before we left Paris."

It sounded insane, even to me. But I could — just — see it: Master Raymond, stealing out of L'Hôpital des Anges after leaving me, perhaps ducking aside to avoid notice, hiding in the place where the nuns had, perhaps, laid Faith on a shelf, wrapped in her swaddling clothes.

He would have known her, as he'd known me...

Everyone has a color about them, he said simply. All around them, like a cloud. Yours is blue, madonna. Like the Virgin's cloak. Like my own.

One of his. The thought came out of nowhere, and I stiffened.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ." What if — all right, I was insane, but too late for that to make a difference.

"What if he — if I, we — what if Master Raymond is — was — somehow related to me?"

Jamie said nothing, but I felt his hand move, under my hair. His middle finger folded down and the outer ones stood up straight, making the sign of the horns, against evil.

"And what if he's not?" he said dryly. He rolled me off him and turned toward me so we were face-to-face. The darkness was slowly fading and I could see his face, drawn with tiredness, touched with sorrow and tenderness, but still determined.

"Even if everything ye've made yourself think was somehow true — and it's not, Sassenach; ye ken it's not — but if it were somehow true, it wouldna make any difference. The woman in Frances's locket is dead now, and so is our Faith."

His words touched the raw place in my heart, and I nodded, tears welling.

"I know," I whispered.

"I know, too," he whispered, and held me while I wept.

— Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone, Chapter 24, Alarms By Night

"Ian — I wanted to ask you a favor." One eyebrow went up.

"Name it, Auntie."

"Well... Jamie said that you plan to stop in Philadelphia. I wondered.." I felt myself blushing, much to my annoyance. His other eyebrow rose.

"Whatever it is, Auntie, I'll do it," he said, one side of his mouth curling. "I promise."

"Well... I, um, want you to go to a brothel."

The eyebrows came down and he stared hard at me, obviously thinking he hadn't heard aright.

"A brothel," I repeated, somewhat louder. "In Elfreth's Alley."

He stood motionless for a moment, then turned and put the cheese back on the shelf, and glanced down at the clear brown water of the creek rushing past our feet.

"This might take a bit of time to explain, aye? Let's go out into the sun."

— Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone, Chapter 59, Special Requests

IAN CAME BACK from his visit to Elfreth's Alley in something of a brown study, oblivious to the shouts of dairymaids and beer sellers.

He'd thought he might have to expend considerable time and money in order to get the inhabitants of the brothel to talk, but the mere mention of Jane Pocock's name had opened floodgates of gossip, and he felt as one might after being washed overboard from a ship and carried ashore in a flurry of foam and sharp deb-ris.

Now he wished he had paid more attention to Fanny's drawing of her sister.

The loudly stated opinion of Mrs. Abbott, the madam, was that Jane Pocock had been strange, plainly very strange, demented and probably a practitioner of Strange Arts, and how it was that neither she nor any of her girls had been murdered in their beds, she did not know. Ian wondered why a young woman with such skills would have been working as a whore, but didn't say so, under the circumstances.

It took some time for the talk about the murder of Captain Harkness to die down, but Ian Murray did ken his way around a brothel, and when the flow diminished, he at once ordered two more extortionately priced bottles of champagne.

This altered the air of accommodation to something more focused but less vituperative, and within half an hour, Mrs. Abbott had retreated to her sanctum and the whores had reached their own silent accommodation amongst themselves. He found himself on the red velvet sofa common to such establishments, with Meg on one side and Trixabella on the other.

"Trix was friends with Arabella — Jane, I mean," Meg explained. Trix nodded, doleful.

"Wish I hadn't been," she said. "That girl hadn't any luck at all, and that kind of thing can brush off on you, you know. What are those things on your face?"

"Can it?" lan touched his cheekbone. “It's a Mohawk tattoo."

"Ooh," said Trix, with slightly more interest. "Was you captured by Indians?" She giggled at the thought.

"Nay, I went of my own accord," he said equably.

"Well, me too," Trix said, with an uptilted chin and a wave of the hand presumably meant to draw his attention to the relatively luxurious nature of her place of employment. "Not Arabella, though. Mrs. Abbott got her and her sister off a sea captain what didn't have the scratch to pay his bill. Those girls were indentures."

"Aye? And how long ago was that? Ye canna have been here more than a year or two yourself." In fact, she looked to have been in the trade for a decade, at least, but minor gallantries were part of the expected pourparlers, and she laughed and batted her eyes at him in a practiced manner.

"Reckon it would have been six — maybe seven — years ago. Time flies when you're havin' fun, or so they say."

"Tempus fugit." Ian filled her glass and clinked his against it, smiling. She dimpled professionally, drank, and went on.

"Mind, I wasn't but two years older than Jane..." Bat-bat. "Mrs. Abbott wouldn't've bothered with them, save they were pretty, both of 'em, and Jane was just about old enough to... um... start."

Ian was counting back; six years ago, Jane would have been about the age Fanny was now. Old enough...

After a few accounts of harrowing initial experiences in the trade, he managed to drag the conversation back to Jane and Fanny.

"Ye said a sea captain sold the girls to Mrs. Abbott. Do either of ye by chance recall his name?"

Meg shook her head.

“I wasn't here," she said. "Trix...?" She lifted a brow at her friend, who frowned a little and pressed her lips together.

"Has he come back here — since?" Ian asked, watching her closely. She looked startled.

"I — well... yes. I only saw him twice, mind, and it's been a long while, so I maybe don't recall his name for sure."

Ian sighed, gave her a direct look, and handed her a golden guinea.

"Vaskwez"" she said without hesitation. "Sebastian Vaskwez."

"Vas — was he a Spaniard?" lan asked, his mind having smoothly transmuted her rendering to "Sebastiàn Vasquez."

"I don't know," Trix said frankly. "I've never had a Spaniard — knowin'-like, I mean-wouldn't know what they sound like."

"They all sound the same in bed," Meg said, giving Ian an eye. Trix gave her friend a withering look.

"He sounded foreign-like, no doubt about that. And no talking through his nose or that gwaw-gwaw sort of thing Frenchies do. I've had three Frenchmen," she explained to Ian, with a small showing of pride. "Was a few of'em in Philadelphia while the British army was here."

"When was the last time Vasquez came here?" he asked.

"Two... no, maybe close to three years ago."

"Did he go with Jane then?" Ian asked.

"No," Trix said unexpectedly. "He went with me." She made a face. "He stank of gunpowder — like an artilleryman. He wasn't one, though; they've all got it ground into their skin and their hands are black with it, but he was clean, though he smelled like a fired pistol."

A thought occurred to Ian — though thinking was becoming difficult. He wasn't bothered by the fact that his body was taking strong notice of the girls, but arousal seldom did much for the mental faculties.

"Could ye tell if he was still a sea captain?" he asked. Both girls looked blank.

"I mean — did he mention his ship, or maybe say he was taking on crew, anything like that? Did he smell of the sea, or — or —fish?"

That made them both laugh.

"No, just gunpowder," Trix said, recovering.

"Mother Abbott called him 'Captain, though," Trix added. "And 'twas clear enough he weren't a soldier."

A few more questions emptied both bottles, and it was clear that the girls had told him all they knew, little as it was. At least he had a name. There were sounds in the house, opening doors, heavy footsteps, men's voices and women's greetings; it was just past teatime and the cullies were beginning to come in.

He rose, arranged himself without shame, and bowed to them, thanking them for their kind assistance.

— Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone, Chapter 80, A Word For That

From “the author”

“They actually did get the (general) idea from me, though,” she admits. “When chatting with [showrunner] Matt [Roberts] about All Things plot wise, I mentioned that if I had written a second graphic novel (I didn't, for assorted reasons), I would have shown what actually happened after Faith's presumed death at the Hopital des Anges, and how/why Master Raymond resuscitated and nurtured the baby secretly, but wasn't able to come back with her before Claire and Jamie left France. So, they liked that idea and ran with it.” — Diana Gabaldon, Parade

Remember… Claire is only one of more than a dozen time-travellers in the story… Brianna was conceived in 1746 and born in 1948… Family Beardsley is a threesome… it’s Outlander, anything can happen.

@marian4456 @saint-hildegard-of-bingen @kiaora45 @dlansing53 @young2evans @gotraveltheworldluv @krisrose16 @frenchyses @bcacstuff @pinkblizzardgladiator @thetruthwilloutsworld @its-moopoint @stellarpuffin @outlanderfandomfollies @loveisloveislove76 @castlemaine123 @dragonflydreams47

[the-golden-vanity]

You're gonna need a bigger boat bookshelf.

[housecow]

Where on the spectrum does your breeding kink fall for you, personally? Is it purely a matter of size, as in do you want to be filled with dozens of babies just to grow even bigger, or is it separate from the feedism and is more realistic?

not necessarily separate, but definitely more realistic 🫣 being totally honest, i’m not really into non-realistic stuff at all. for feedism, i don’t enjoy the concept of rapid/instant/magic wg like you see around a lot.

for breeding, the same thing sorta applies… dozens of babies seems silly to me and not at all hot, though fantasizing abt twins is nice.. even if it doesn’t run in my family 😔 with the weight gain aspect, i like the idea of steadily getting bigger. if i want 3 kids—i’d want to be that mom that just can’t ever seem to lose the baby weight. i want whispers about why my husband even bothers knocking me up when i’m 400lbs, is he into that? do i somehow get bigger between pregnancies, too??

anyways. i like the intricacies!! it also just seems more intimate that way??

[clairedsfield]

ep. 180 | 29.10.24

[supreme-leader-stoat]

aren't you tumblr famous?

I want a different question.

[alacants]

wait, how do you think jannik being uncomfortable with carlos makes their dynamic more interesting? you've piqued my interest

i mean—it's scary, right? someone whose mere presence exerts such a strong force on your life, someone who elicits so much from you. whether you want them to or not. 

carlos says he's the best player on tour. carlos says he wishes they were closer. carlos makes him play some of his best tennis. against carlos he has to play his best tennis. against carlos his best tennis might not be enough. carlos could stand between him and what he wants. carlos saw who he would be before anyone else did. carlos is a contradiction. carlos is a threat. carlos is a promise. 

none of this is comfortable or relaxing. carlos is NOT safe, these feelings are not safe. they're alarming and unsettling and overwhelming and electrifying but they're definitely not safe.

[jonny-b-meowborn]

Once an Afton fucker always an Afton fucker

speedpaint

[makkis-meanderings]

sometimes I lie awake at night wondering if I'm the blue-coded character or just some other basic ass color

[20kmemesunderthesea]

[snailfen]

I dont like fictional men i dont like fictional men i dont like fictional men i dont like fictional men i dont like fictional men i dont like fictional men i dont like fictional men i dont like fictional men i dont like fictional men i dont like fictional men i d

[crow-ter]

So uhhhh Is nobody gonna talk about the capeless Gavus and Eugene backs official art or

Bc GOD DAMN

Source

Source

[bookshelf-in-progress]

A Guide to the Stories Posted On This Blog in 2024

Retellings

After Midnight

Retelling of: Cinderella (science fiction)

Word Count: 577 words (unfinished)

Premise: A young girl on another world struggles to provide for her stepsisters.

The Beggar's Door

Retelling of: King Thrushbeard

Word Count: 855 words

Premise: After a princess refuses all her suitors, her father vows to marry her to the man of his choice--but forgets to account for an old tradition.

A Daughter's Gift

Retelling of: Beauty and the Beast

Word Count: 660 words

Premise: A young woman learns the truth behind her father's disappearance and his last gift to her.

For Love of the Princess

Retelling of: Sleeping Beauty

Word Count: 2,689 words

Premise: When a curse dooms a princess and all in her palace to sleep for a hundred years, her ladies-in-waiting and a young guard stay and face the curse with her.

A Garden of Wishes

Retelling of: The Twelve Dancing Princesses

Word Count: 8,459 words

Premise: A garden boy falls in love with a princess and works to solve the magical mystery surrounding her and her sisters.

Good Rich Earth

Retelling of: The Secret Garden

Word Count: 894 words

Premise: After a childhood spent on a military space station, Mary is sent to live on a devastated Earth and becomes obsessed with finding the secret garden planted by her guardian's late wife.

Jack and His Wife

Retelling of: Jack and the Beanstalk

Word Count: 967 words

Premise: Jack's wife follows him up the beanstalk, and learns he might not be the hapless fool she'd believed him to be.

Marks of Loyalty

Retelling of: Maid Maleen

Word Count: 4,404 words

Premise: After seven years of imprisonment in a tower, a woman struggles to survive in a war-torn land, and tries to learn what has become of the prince she loved.

The Nightingale Returns

Retelling of: The Nightingale

Word Count: 743 words

Premise: A former opera singer is summoned to the deathbed of the man who once loved and abandoned her.

The Other Option

Retelling of: Rumpelstiltskin

Word Count: 214 words

Premise: When a magical creature demands a woman's firstborn as payment for help, the woman decides to save herself.

Reflection

Retelling of: Snow White and the Seven Dwarves

Word Count: 2,317 words

Premise: An aging, appearance-obsessed queen tries to destroy the beautiful, innocent princess she views as her rival, but may end up destroying herself.

The Unseen Soldier

Retelling of: The Twelve Dancing Princesses

Word Count: 544 words

Premise: A former soldier struggles to find a way to break his curse of invisibility.

A Wise Pair of Fools

Retelling of: The Farmer's Clever Daughter

Word Count: 4,337 words

Premise: A peasant girl outwits and captures the heart of an arrogant, overeducated king.

Original Fantasy

The Return of Queen Emma

Word Count: 933 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Portal fantasy/magical realism

Premise: After ruling as queen of a fantasy world, a girl rejoices to return to an ordinary childhood on Earth.

Daughter of the House of Dreams

Word Count: 755 words

Completion Status: Standalone fragment

Genre: Secondary world fantasy

Premise: Going to the dream shop on Faraway Lane, you'll encounter some fantastical wonders.

Honors from the King

Word Count: 2,172 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Portal fantasy

Premise: After slaying a giant, a young girl plans to ask the king of a fantastical realm to help her get home to Earth, but learns the story is not as simple as she thought.

Queen of the Fairies

Word Count: 1,769 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Historical fantasy

Premise: In Victorian England, a young girl captures a flower fairy and meets a scientist who studies them.

A Feast in the Lanternwood

Word Count: 2,031 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Secondary world non-magical fantasy

Premise: An enemy soldier begs for food at a festival held by a peaceful forest community.

Heartsong

Word Count: 558 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Magical realism

Premise: A woman struggles to find her soulmate in a world where soulmates are identified through song.

Shadowstruck

Word Count: 871 words

Completion status: Incomplete, plans to continue

Genre: Secondary world fantasy

Premise: The death of a girl's mother reveals secrets about her life.

Shadowstruck, Part Two

Word Count: 783 words

Completion Status: Incomplete, plans to continue

Genre: Secondary world fantasy

Premise: While trying to escape the country, a girl receives unexpected help from a mysterious stranger.

Sylvia

Word Count: 398 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Space fantasy

Premise: A woman must decide whether to board a ship and sail to the moon to find the brother who left the family years ago.

The Waters of Time

Word Count: 1,164 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Secondary world fantasy

Premise: A mermaid librarian travels to the past to retrieve a stolen book and finds herself entangled in a web of intrigue.

The Memory Garden

Word Count: 1,091 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Original fairy tale

Premise: The gardens of a castle have a strange relationship with time after dark.

From the Other Side of the End of the World

Word Count: 4,196 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Secondary world fantasy/time travel

Premise: A young woman writes letters to her time-traveling sister who works as a nurse in a historical war zone, and starts a correspondence with one of her patients.

Stolen Moments

Word Count: 745 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Original fairy tale

Premise: At a masquerade ball, a princess encounters the husband who betrayed her.

Instructions

Word Count: 196 words

Completion Status: Complete flash fiction

Genre: Secondary world non-magical fantasy

Premise: In a fantasy kingdom, a rider is sent out with an important message.

Original Science Fiction

Warning Signs

Word Count: 189 words

Completion Status: Complete

Premise: A man having lunch at a seaside cafe receives a strange warning from a time traveler.

Beyond the Legend

Word Count: 1,097 words

Completion Status: Complete, part of Arateph series

Premise: The long-lost prince of an alien world encounters an alternate-history film about his life.

Jules and Vern

Word Count: 456 words

Completion Status: Complete, part of Jules and Vern series

Premise: On a time-travel cruise, a poor academic encounters a world-weary heiress.

A Jules and Vern Christmas

Word Count: 1,543 words

Completion Status: Complete

Premise: A poor academic offers a gift that helps a jaded heiress to appreciate the Christmas season.

[fuckyeahchinesefashion]

chinese guzhuang fashion