#putting trans history on the shelves

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Also wondering if I should follow up on my initial little idea of "I should buy a book with every single paycheck" especially since I seem to be actually reading books now

#finished madeline miller's circe about. a week ago and am reading a trans history book (by susan stryker iirc) #and one called golden child by claire adam; needed the trans one for a class in college and never properly read it #and found the latter at a goodwill bookstore and realized i don't read a whole lot of fiction and decided to give it a go #slowly building up a personal library; i had one before i moved out but hadnt really read anything #i had a lot of history books from school bc the profs kept retiring and giving away their own libraries they'd built up #i have pics of the shelves so i can determine if I wanna try to order the books to have them now #but ive already got a stack of 30 or so books i wanna get through first 😤 #i have a new little tree style bookshelf i got as a gift and the books i finish go on the shelf 😤 i stack em up on the floor until #i get to them; i opened up a shelf on my actual bookshelf once i moved my altar and put a bunch there #now the floor stack is slowly gonna get moved onto the actual shelf; i just need to take from the shelf first (ideally anyways) #hoatm rants

[transfloridaresources]

[Video ID: An Afro-Latina trans woman, Angelique Godwin, stands at a podium in front of a supportive crowd behind her. The podium has a sign on it that reads 'Equality Florida. Censorship (crossed out) Freedom!' /End ID]

Video transcript:

Let me just start by saying, hi everyone. My name is Angelique Godwin and I am a Afro-Latina trans woman (crowd cheers) not only living in Florida but leading the way for my people and my community - and not just the trans community, but every single letter in the LGBTQIA+ community.

I will not be feared out of the state (crowd member shouts 'talk about it!'). You will not make laws to remove me or my dreams because I was raised in an America that believes that freedom will ring (crowd cheers) and freedom is mine to ring. It's mine to achieve.

I was raised underneath the belief that I can be anything and anyone I choose to be, if I follow my dreams (crowd cheers). And so, when I set out as a young person raised by a 9/11 First Responder, police detective in the Bronx of New York and a teacher who worked for the Board of Education in the Bronx, New York, I was raised to believe that I truly could be anything I put my mind to (crowd cheers). And as I grew up in this state, I went to school that I paid for and I'm still paying for - (crowd laughs) to get degrees. Not one, not two, but three certifications (crowd cheers). I am an example of what happens when you have parents and people and community that believe in you. I am a Masters of Psychology earned person, educated, going for my doctorate this year (crowd cheers). I am unstoppable.

You made laws and you made bills that said that, oh, she can't get her medication. And, yeah, I lost all of my help. I lost my doctors. I lost my, my, my access to my medication. But because my community is not weak, because we don't back down, I got it all back (crowd cheers). And I went and bought my own health insurance, because y'all can't even seem to provide none for none of us. So I got health insurance that backs me in the state of Florida. That supports me.

When you guys put laws about education, I start programs. I teach for a living. You can take the books off the shelves, but you can't take the memories out of my mind (crowd cheers). You can erase me from your history books, but, baby, I still exist. I'm here and now I'm on television, baby, you can't get rid of me (crowd laughs and cheers). I'm forever. And soon enough I'll be like Cher. I'll be immortalized. You can't stop me. I'll speak at every single turn.

You made it so that now I have to stand up and fight. You attacked a group that has no ill will towards you and now we have to stand up and fight. So we're gonna fight. We're going to continue to show up. I told you last year, this wasn't the last you seen of me. Hello (crowd laughs and cheers). Last year, I was a volunteer. Now I am the TransAction Special Events Coordinator for Equality Florida. Keep making these laws and these bills and you'll see me in your Senate seats next (crowd cheers). And that is not a threat, that's a promise.

So be sure who you attack because you haven't quelled anything. You haven't stopped us, you've ignited the fire. You've become gasoline. And, baby, we are going to burn like the books and the bras of the past. We will stand on things. I'm going to sit on these subjects like Rosa Parks sat on the bus. Because my dreams will come true, like Dr. Martin Luther King, and I will continue to walk the road, like Ruby Bridges alone, and you can throw your words but they will never break me. You can throw your bricks but they can never hurt me. I will stand and exist for those who cannot. For all of my brothers and sisters and theys and thems who left and can't stay here, I will always be here. And even when you stop doing what you're doing, I will continue to move forward because that is what I do. And now you have met just one, and I'm going to inspire generations, because I already have. Look at the room, read the room, baby (crowd cheers).

And I am, just so you know, and your parents will know, and your children's children will know, I am one of the people who brought all of those drag queens to this rotunda (crowd cheers). And I was here last year with all of those children who came when you came for their rights. It will never stop. It will continue. We will not let these rooms be empty. Even when you plan your sessions around it and try to get them done without us (has mild vocal trouble and grimaces slightly)- without us, sorry - I will show up. I will be here. I look forward to seeing you all throughout the rest of the sessions. Get used to it because I'm pretty and I look good all the time (crowd cheers). My development as a trans woman has been amazing, and I promise you, my body is real, my face is mine, baby. The makeup game, I've been slaying it for 19 years. I'm older than I look but my skin looks better than yours because I know how to take care of it. If you want help, call me (crowd cheers).

I'm mad. I'm done. I'm done playing safe with you guys. I'm done being that person that you think you can walk over. My community, we are not going to be the backs on which you stand on. We're not that community anymore - slavery is over. We won't live in closets anymore. Closets are done. They're removed. It's open spaces.

This is a world where we're supposed to be free. You call yourself a free state, but you take away freedoms and rights. No more. We stand here. We are not going anywhere. So get comfortable, because we are. And we're here (crowd cheers). Thank you. Source

#florida #tallahassee #trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtqia+ #trans woman #trans woc #afro latina #angelique godwin #equality florida #social justice #trans rights #trans positivity #described #transcribed #video

[epitheterased-confessions]

Alright guys, I gotta little treat for all of you

Serbian Sylvester scene stuff! (If I'm feeling like it this might become a genuine fic, please don't mind my shitty writing skills)

It was a dull and cold night in Sweet Jazz City, just like any other. The only place that was still open at the time was the Sweet Jazz City Library, though, the only people who were at the library were a young man in spectacle and the sleep deprived librarian who was asleep at her desk.

The young man in spectacle was Sylvester (Sylvie) Ashling, 15 year old psychologist and the youngest of the Ashling line. Sylvie was reaching for a book on one of the shelves, trying to stay as quiet as possible while mumbling to himself.

"Treba da je tu negde ta prokleta knjiga..." (Trans: "That damn book has to be somewhere around here..."). This height made reaching the book he was looking for even more difficult. After a few seconds of trying he finally reached the book somehow, before inevitably falling onto the ground, bringing down a pile of books with him. He shouted: "JEBATI!" (Trans: "FUCK!"

This immediately woke up the librarian. "HEY, KEEP IT DOWN BACK THERE!" she shouted. Sylvie jolted back up on his feet. "Sorry!" "YOU BETTER BE!". Sylvie dusted himself off and started picking up the books that were on the ground and putting them back on the shelf. He picked up the book he was originally looking for and went to the librarian's desk. The librarian eyed him up and done and answered him with a montone and tired tone. "Seriously? You again Ashling? I thought you left 6 hours ago. Eh, whatever, hopefully you didn't cause anymore property damage like you did last time."

The librarian looked at the book Sylvie picked up and smirked. " 'Serbian History', huh? I thought you were gonna pick up another book about psychology or 'How to make friends' or 'How to play DND without friends'. You are really that interested in the country that barely has any recorded history of it?"

"Of course it's for research purposes, y'know like Geography stuff?"

"Since when are you the geography guy? Eh whatever, I'm not here to judge your shitty book, I'm just here to check out your book so you can finally leave."

The librarian checked out the book and gave it back to Sylvie. "Have a night or something, Ashling."

Sylvie walked out of the library with his book right as the librarian was closing up the library for the night.

Finally! Sylvie could learn something about the history of his lineage, hopefully.

holy moly this would make a great fic

#serbian sylvie #sfe #sylvie ashling #epithet erased #epithet erased confessions

[ebookporn]

WHAT WE CAN LEARN FROM BLACK AUTHORS

by Tiana Dunkley

I am not an avid reader. For a long time, graphic novels with fantastical illustrations were the only stories I found worth reading. When I started high school, I thought it was time to give more reading a try. So, I decided not to leave my reading experience in the hands of my English teachers, and I visited my high school library.

I read Chinua Achebe’s novel Things Fall Apart and became familiar with the names Okonkwo, Nwoye, and Ikemefuna. But after I returned the book to the library, I felt somewhat deprived. For me, Black history usually started with the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, but in his novel, Achebe shared stories of pre-colonial life in Western Africa. As a place populated with tribes all bearing different languages, customs, and traditions, I was rarely given the chance to explore West African culture outside of Achebe’s words. His story wasn’t a fictious work to me, in my mind it must have always existed. Reading it made me realize all that I had been missing. 

In another trip to the library, I found James Baldwin’s Nobody Knows My Name. I discovered how effective well-crafted essays can be. Baldwin’s words rung as a deep analysis of the American psyche—in ways that are more complex than any history or psychology class put together. “No one is more dangerous than he who imagines himself pure in heart: for purity, by definition, is unassailable,” he writes. His words are profoundly relevant as checking our biases becomes more of a common practice.

My reading journey continued with Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, a novel that explores the vastness of the diasporic experience. Then, I time-travelled to the Antebellum South in Kindred, a science-fiction story only Octavia Butler could think of. And finally, after letting go of what was weighing me down, I learned how to fly with Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon.

Black literature taught me everything I know about literature. I will always cherish the emotions these novels evoked and the ideas they left me with. I often wonder: would I have ever discovered these authors within a school’s curriculum? Black literature exists outside of the bounds of Black history month. With this, I think about books banned from the shelves of countless libraries around the world.

So, to writers like Baldwin, Achebe, Morrison, Butler, Adichie and all the rest I am left to discover—thank you for telling me how you see the world. Thank you for showing me that amid pain and destruction, there is also love and wonder. To readers like myself, I hope you find the value in literature—especially in the pages that you haven’t discovered yet. The new Black perspectives, experiences, and tales that we read educate us on individual human experiences that will forever bind us. The more time we take to understand each other, the better off we will be.

#black authors #black literature #book publishing #librarians #booksellers

[22degreehalo]

Some random observations on the Dewey Decimal System, noted at work:

Pro-trans books tend to be sorted under society/culture, while anti-trans books tend to be sorted under medicine or politics, so they're rarely found together

Fiction can be sorted under non-fiction so long as it's the script of a work in another medium

Also poetry tends to get sorted under non-fiction (literature) which feels odd to me

Shakespeare is also non-fiction and gets a whole section of the Literature category all to himself; not sure if any other single person gets that (most other classic literature is put on its own other separate section in the library)

Travel guides start in Britain then move through Europe and outwards (it's obvious why, but Notable). However, this is NOT true of history.

Books about general mental health are put in an entirely different section to mental health illnesses (the former close to religion/culture, the latter in medicine) and it took me quite a few seconds to put my finger on what was even the difference between those shelves

Books about animals as a scientific/environmental topic are in an entirely different section to animals as pets/farm animals, though this may be just the way this library's shelves are set out

The economics section segues very quickly into the fine arts/architecture section which might just be what works out best but it looks kind of odd in practice

#there's gotta be some sort of tag for librarians on tumblr right? #like lawblr but. libraries. #liblr?? #sorry that is the worst word anyone has ever written huh #i shouldnt tag bookblr bc I'm not really. reading books. or especially invested in that. #i want a tag for j ust talking about libraries as actual real world practical organisations... #hmm #librarian #libraries

[unlicensed-un-proffesional]

Alright, I've been thinking.

Opinions, are dumb. Where am I going with this? Well, opinions as an idea are stupid. There are certain things that are objective truths and it should be the goal of people to work towards the truth instead of being all humphy cause it's their opinion.

That being said, there are also subjective truths, and these mostly lay within people. Some people don't have a problem with being punched in shoulder by a stranger, an objective truth. I don't have a problem with being punched in the shoulder by a stranger, a subjective truth. You don't have a problem with being punched in the shoulder, that's your subjective truth, and so only you can confirm or deny it.

Now, where am I going with that? Well-

As an LGBT person, in both sexuality and gender, I self identify with the word Queer. Always have and always will like the way it sounds and what it means. It simply means strange or weird without any of its less than happy history, and I like it and so do many others. But, there are some people out their who really don't like this word. If I were of any lesser intelligence, I would say they had no reason, it's just a word. Of course, being that I am the absolute pinnacle of humanity and there is no greater intellect than I, almighty guru of all, I can realize why people are uncomfortable with the term.

Some people are okay with having other people say it, some people aren't. Some people would probably like a Q word pass, others would have it accessible by all, and others would shelve with other offensive language, best never used.

What this brings me too, is an interesting interaction I had today. I as an offhanded comment saw and reblogged a post (I bet you can tell which one) attempting to state "I'm personally fine with it being used to describe me, but you do you! It's alright. Everyone has preferences and those should be respected!" However, that is not how history played out. I put little thought into what I said, and I payed for it. I thought to myself, in that exact moment, as if some cruel joke by the universe "It's fine! Nobody will care! What's the worst that could come from intruding on someone else’s post and saying something unnecessary?" But, now that I think about it, maybe it was necessary. Not for anyone else, but for me. Mistakes make you stronger they say, and I'll wear this one with proudly, seeing how much I've learned from it.

It's an embarrassing awful mistake, and I am ashamed to have made it, but that's all in the past now.

I went through multiple stages of insecurity throughout the time that post had been up, but eventually, history came to repeat itself, in the reverse.

One day, while on reddit (I use multiple social sites, haven't touched twitter in almost a year now though) I got into a debate over the word "Trap" I thought during that time that it was harmless and people were overreacting. As I soon found out however, things weren't all "Libtards mad" (not that ever thought that way, but to grossly simplify it and boil it down it was similar) the term Trap had a long standing transphobic history I chose to ignore until I couldn't ignore it any longer. I said "Well the correct term is used for Femboys and only transphobes use it transphobically." Completely disregarding the blatant stupidity in that belief.

And so, I said, I said to Orville, and this is what I said, I said "Orville, I realized something. I was wrong the entire time." Now one thing that really stuck to me was when the other redditor said "Have you actually heard any trans person say they're okay with this?" And if I had my gender figured out I would have totally played that card, because that was the kind of crap I was back then.

The story doesn't end their though, after finally growing up and (in hindsight, somewhat awkwardly) began apologizing and thanking the other redditor, I found new peace within myself. Until eventually finding out their were trans ladies who called themselves traps and who were on femboy subreddits. It baffled me. I didn't understand why a trans girl would be so comfortable with those terms. This is because I thought of everything still in objectivity, not realizing that some things are only subjective truths.

And like how some black people aren't okay with the N word, plenty of trans people aren't okay with the T word, and it seems pretty split between who is and isn't okay with the Q word, it's all based on people's objective truths, and you should always respect the truth. The idea of what is and is not true will always change, and you should always go in search for truth, but you should also realize the difference between the objective truth of the universe, and the subjective truth of a person. From the laws of nature, to a sense of humor, there lies a truth that deserves respect, even if it's not the same as yours.

Now here's some hilarious memes I made based off of recent interests.

#i was also gonna say something about someone telling me to kill myself and how at first i thought it didnt matter #but it seriously fucked up my day and actually had a negative impact on me #not that it wasnt deserved but i think people should be more thoughtful of what they put out their to others #you. me. everybody.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: As a beginner in Classics I love your Classicist themed posts. I find your caption perfect posts a lot to think upon. I suppose it’s been more than a few years since you read Classics at Cambridge but my question is do you still bother to read any Classic texts and if so what are you currently reading?

I don’t know whether to be flattered or get depressed by your (sincere) remarks. Thank you so much for reminding me how old I must come across as my youngish Millennial bones are already starting to creak from all my sins of past sport injuries and physical exertions. I’m reminded of what J.R.R Tolkien wrote, “I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.” I know the feeling (sigh).

But pay heed, dear follower, to what Menander said of old age, Τίμα το γήρας, ου γαρ έρχεται μόνον (respect old age, for it does not come alone). Presumably he means we all carry baggage. One hopes that will be wisdom which is often in the form of experience, suffering, and regret. So I’m not ready to trade in my high heels and hiking boots for a walking stick and granny glasses just yet.

To answer your question, yes, I still to read Classical literature and poetry in their original text alongside trustworthy translations. Every day in fact. 

I learned Latin when I was around 8 or 9 years old and Greek came later - my father and grandfather are Classicists - and so it would be hard to shake it off even if I tried.

So why ‘bother’ to read Classics? There are several reasons. First, the Classics are the Swiss Army knife to unpick my understanding other European languages that I grew up with learning. Second, it increases my cultural literacy out of which you can form informed aesthetic judgements about any art form from art, music, and literature. Third, Classical history is our shared history which is so important to fathom one’s roots and traditions. Fourth, spending time with the Classics - poetry, myth, literature, history - inspires moral insight and virtue. Fifth, grappling with classical literature informs the mind by developing intellectual discipline, reason, and logic.

And finally, and perhaps one I find especially important, is that engaging with Classical literature, poetry, or history, is incredibly humbling; for the classical world first codified the great virtues of prudence, temperance, justice, loyalty, sacrifice, and courage. These are qualities that we all painfully fall short of in our every day lives and yet we still aspire to such heights.

I’m quite eclectic in my reading. I don’t really have a method other than what my mood happens to be. I have my trusty battered note book and pen and I sit my arse down to translate passages wherever I can carve out a place to think. It’s my answer to staving off premature dementia when I really get old because quite frankly I’m useless at Soduku. We spend so much time staring at screens and passively texting that we don’t allow ourselves to slow down and think that physically writing gives you that luxury of slow motion time and space. In writing things out you are taking the time to reflect on thoughts behind the written word.

I do make a point of reading Homer’s The Odyssey every year because it’s just one of my favourite stories of all time. Herodotus and Thucydides were authors I used to read almost every day when I was in the military and especially when I went out to war in Afghanistan. Not so much these days. Of the Greek poets, I still read Euripides for weighty stuff and Aristophanes for toilet humour. Aeschylus, Archilochus and Alcman, Sappho, Hesiod, and Mimnermus, Anacreon, Simonides, and others I read sporadically.

I read more Latin than Greek if I am honest. From Seneca, Caesar, Cicero, Sallust, Tacitus, Livy, Apuleius, Virgil, Ovid, the younger Pliny to Augustine (yes, that Saint Augustine of Hippo). Again, there is no method. I pull out a copy from my book shelves and put it in my tote bag when I know I’m going on a plane trip for work reasons.

At the moment I am spending time with Horace. More precisely, his famous odes.

Of all the Greek and Latin poets, I feel spiritually comfortable with Horace. He praises a simple life of moderation in a much gentler tone than other Roman writers. Although Horace’s odes were written in imitation of Greek writers like Sappho, I like his take on friendship, love, alcohol, Roman politics and poetry itself. With the arguable exception of Virgil, there is no more celebrated Roman poet than Horace. His Odes set a fashion among English speakers that come to bear on poets to this day. His Ars Poetica, a rumination on the art of poetry in the form of a letter, is one of the seminal works of literary criticism. Ben Jonson, Pope, Auden, and Frost are but a few of the major poets of the English language who owe a debt to the Roman.

We owe to Horace the phrases, “carpe diem” or “seize the day” and the “golden mean” for his beloved moderation. Victorian poet Alfred Lord Tennyson, of Ancient Mariner fame, praised the odes in verse and Wilfred Owen’s great World War I poem, Dulce et Decorum est, is a response to Horace’s oft-quoted belief that it is “sweet and fitting” to die for one’s country.

Unlike many poets, Horace lived a full life. And not always a happy one. Horace was born in Venusia, a small town in southern Italy, to a formerly enslaved mother. He was fortunate to have been the recipient of intense parental direction. His father spent a comparable fortune on his education, sending him to Rome to study. He later studied in Athens amidst the Stoics and Epicurean philosophers, immersing himself in Greek poetry. While led a life of scholarly idyll in Athens, a revolution came to Rome. Julius Caesar was murdered, and Horace fatefully lined up behind Brutus in the conflicts that would ensue. His learning enabled him to become a commander during the Battle of Philippi, but Horace saw his forces routed by those of Octavian and Mark Antony, another stop on the former’s road to becoming Emperor Augustus.

When he returned to Italy, Horace found that his family’s estate had been expropriated by Rome, and Horace was, according to his writings, left destitute. In 39 B.C., after Augustus granted amnesty, Horace became a secretary in the Roman treasury by buying the position of questor's scribe. In 38, Horace met and became the client of the artists' patron Maecenas, a close lieutenant to Augustus, who provided Horace with a villa in the Sabine Hills. From there he began to write his satires. Horace became the major lyric Latin poet of the era of the Augustus age. He is famed for his Odes as well as his caustic satires, and his book on writing, the Ars Poetica. His life and career were owed to Augustus, who was close to his patron, Maecenas. From this lofty, if tenuous, position, Horace became the voice of the new Roman Empire. When Horace died at age 59, he left his estate to Augustus and was buried near the tomb of his patron Maecenas.

Horace’s simple diction and exquisite arrangement give the odes an inevitable quality; the expression makes familiar thoughts new. While the language of the odes may be simple, their structure is complex. The odes can be seen as rhetorical arguments with a kind of logic that leads the reader to sometimes unexpected places. His odes speak of a love of the countryside that dedicates a farmer to his ancestral lands; exposes the ambition that drives one man to Olympic glory, another to political acclaim, and a third to wealth; the greed that compels the merchant to brave dangerous seas again and again rather than live modestly but safely; and even the tensions between the sexes that are at the root of the odes about relationships with women.

What I like then about Horace is his sense of moderation and he shows the gap between what we think we want and what we actually need. Horace has a preference for the small and simple over the grandiose. He’s all for independence and self-reliance.

If there is one thing I would nit pick Horace upon is his flippancy to the value of the religious and spiritual. The gods are often on his lips, but, in defiance of much contemporary feeling, he absolutely denied an afterlife - which as a Christian I would disagree with. So inevitably “gather ye rosebuds while ye may” is an ever recurrent theme, though Horace insists on a Golden Mean of moderation - deploring excess and always refusing, deprecating, dissuading.

All in all he champions the quiet life, a prayer I think many men and women pray to the gods to grant them when they are caught in the open Aegean, and a dark cloud has blotted out the moon, and the sailors no longer have the bright stars to guide them. A quiet life is the prayer of Thrace when madness leads to war. A quiet life is the prayer of the Medes when fighting with painted quivers: a commodity, Grosphus, that cannot be bought by jewels or purple or gold? For no riches, no consul’s lictor, can move on the disorders of an unhappy mind and the anxieties that flutter around coffered ceilings.

Caelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt (they change their sky, not their soul, who rush across the sea.)

Part of Horace’s persona - lack of political ambition, satisfaction with his life, gratitude for his land, and pride in his craft and the recognition it wins him - is an expression of an intricate web of awareness of place. Reading Horace will centre you and get you to focus on what is most important in life. In Horace’s discussion of what people in his society value, and where they place their energy and time, we can find something familiar. Horace brings his reader to the question - what do we value?  

Much like many of our own societies, Rome was bustling with trade and commerce, ambition, and an area of vast, diverse civilisation. People there faced similar decisions as we do today, in what we pursue and why. As many of us debate our place and purpose in our world, our poet reassures us all. We have been coursing through Mondays for thousands of years. Horace beckons us: take a brief moment from the day’s busy hours. Stretch a little, close your eyes while facing the warm sun, and hear the birds and the quiet stream. The mind that is happy for the present should refuse to worry about what is further ahead; it should dilute bitter things with a mild smile.

I would encourage anyone to read these treasures in translations. For you though, as a budding Classicist, read the texts in Latin and Greek if you can. Wrestle with the word. The struggle is its own reward. Whether one reads from the original or from a worthy translation, the moral virtue (one hopes) is wisdom and enlightenment.

Pulvis et umbra sumus

(We are but dust and shadow.)

Thanks for your question.

#question #ask #classical #greek #latin #horace #poetry #literature #arts #cambridge #classics #personal #study #habits #reading #books #culture #personal growth

[mayra-quijotescx]

Last one for the banned books show, with apologies that I don’t have a single non-shitty photo of this one and the show is tomorrow and fucking goddammit I don’t want to fucking go I hate people so goddamn much bc everyone’s acting like COVID is over and with the Rodeo still ongoing this is consecutive week four of heinous plague rat invasion and even without that there’s only 4 people in this city whose presence I’m not viscerally repulsed by and my soul cries out for the eternal sleep

*anyway*

this one is about a specific book. You may know it as George, as that is the title under which it was initially published. It's Alex Gino's debut novel, which will be published under the main character's chosen name of Melissa starting in April of this year.

Melissa is an elementary-to middle-grade story of a trans girl discovering herself in part through her desire to play the part of Charlotte in the fourth-grade play of Charlotte's Web. That's what the story actually is. A girl learning what roles do and don't fulfill her personal expression. To hear the many furious ideologues who have made this book top the Most Challenged list every year since publication, you'd think it was about so much more; justifications given for demanding the book be removed from library shelves across the US have ranged from "offensive to traditional family structure" (whose?) to "encourages children to delete their browser histories and change their bodies with hormones" (sensing projection here) to "inappropriate sexual content" (in line with the common fascist tactic of sweeping anything regarding queerness under the heading of pornography in order to do away with it) to finally, "librarians should not put books in a child's hand that require discussion."

That last one speaks volumes to me.

(Sold at Banned!, 03/19/2022.)

[Image description: Illustration of a girl in a Charlotte’s Web costume looking out from behind stage curtains. She has a terrified expression. A layer of vellum covered in typewritten justifications for banning the book of which this girl is the main character covers the illustration. End of description.]

#quijotescx draws sometimes #not going to tag this further bc I keep having massive breakdowns every time I try to type anything and it's probably best this isn't seen #not that more than 8 people would see it anyway but can't be too careful #tbh only posting this bc I promised I would #the plague that never ends

[toutallyahoe]

Essay Trouble ~ Hermione Granger (Harry Potter)

requested by: --

a/n: need more (top) male reader inserts and i bring you a straight one lol

been a while writing female x male reader as i tend to write more male x male reader but nevertheless, i will give my queens some loving <3

like, please... look at her, shes a queen <3

also, before anyone tries to point out some shit. no, i do not support J.K. Rowling. yes, i still like her HP and FBAWTFT series but God will be damned if i support her and the other TERFs. if you're a TERF, please block me and also fuck off

also, Hermoine is trans. Hermoine headcanon being trans is canon now. you CAN'T change my mind

Eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as Hermoine looked at her book. She had been reading the same sentence over and over but oddly enough, she didn't seem to understand. Hermione's head been clouding over other things than doing her homework which was already almost done with neatly written eighth inch of worded essay of how the infection of being warewolves had started.

She had already worked on it for the past two days but it seemed to tumbled her out. Not understanding the same sentence she had tried to be reading for around five minutes or so now made Hermoine let out an annoyed huff as she finally put it down.

The female looked around where she was. Book shelves lined up with many books about the history of magic to muggle studies books, neatly piled up which honestly made Hermoine quite happy to see. Some long tables where no one seemed to occupy except for the young Gryffindor, Hermoine and a-- Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. Squinting her eyes, she let out another annoyed huff.

'Is he sleeping here in the library?!?' Hermoine had thought as she was absolutely angered.

One student, male from his body stucture, and according to the blue on his robes, was a Ravenclaw, was asleep. It honestly baffled Hermoine to see a Ravenclaw-- a Ravenclaw of all things be sleeping in a library. A place of learning.

Pushing her seat back quietly, not to disturb anyone despite no one other than her, the sleeping Ravenclaw, and madam Pince who was at her little side of the library stamping books that have been returned and minding her own were in the library. Not like a certain Gryffindor girl who stood up from her seat and was approaching the sleeping Ravenclaw boy who was two tables away from her.

As she had approached the sleeping student, Hermoine noticed the scatter of quills and opened ink bottles. Some parchment that some have written works or crumpled pieces, and also some books stacked together on the right side of the asleep student's head. Three opened book in front of him and if Hermoine had to guess those books correctly, those were all Muggle studies text book of the sixth year. Making the young man either a year older than her or he was just reading advance books. Hermoine thought the former was more possible though as she had sneaked a peak on what the sleeping male was writing.

Hermoine was standing beside the student's sleeping form. From what Hermoine can see was only the ruffled and untidy [Hair color] locks of the sleeping student along with some patch of [Skin color] skin that weren't hidden from his robes. His face hidden from his arms that he prompted on the surface of the table. Covering some parts of the essay he was writing about World War one.

Hermoine, curious on what the sleeping male had written about her muggle looked at it. It was a very immoral thing to do, looking at others work and without their permission (in Hermione's beliefs that is) but her curiosity took over her. Hesitantly, Hermoine had took the parchment that was underneath the sleeping Ravenclaw.

A soft sigh left Hermione's lips when she had succesfully taken out the parchment with out disturbing the sleeping male. Her eyes looked at the asleep student then to the parchment in her hand. Hermoine started to read.

To say the least, Hermoine was quite pleased to have seen the Ravenclaw's essay was very accurate to what she had also read and what her parents had told her about. If Hermoine had to estimate, the essay was already around thirteenth inch long and she could tell the sleeping student was still not done with how the end of the sentence seemed to make way for more information.

Hermoine looked at the table and saw another parchment that was full of written words and she assumed that ut was probably the first page of the essay as the one she was holding started halfway of the war already. Describing each country's strategize and weapons used and all those what knot that made Hermoine approve on how much information the sleeping student had researched on.

Hermoine looked at the asleep male then at the parchment on the table as her hand then slowly approached to the table surface to take the writtened parchment away. As she had touched the parchment, a sudden scream left her lips but immediately shut it up when she remembered she was in the library and didn't want madam Pince to kick her out for disrupting the peace.

The cause of her reaction was the hand holding her wrist. Hermoine's eyes widened in fear when she saw and felt her wrist were grabbed.

"What... are you doing," a voice spoke to her. Hermoine turned to look only to be quite relieved that the hand belongs to the Ravenclaw who was now awake. Not fully awake as he lifted his head up from his arms, his eyes were half-lidded. Showing how he was still not one with the real world as he was dozing off to Morpheus' embrace.

Hermoine had to admit, the male had a lovely shade of [Eye color] eyes to compliment his hair and skin.

"What does... a Gryffindor want with my papers?" [Name] had asked. Yawning in between his sentence as his half-lidded eyes filled with drowsiness turned into a sharp glare that made Hermoine gulp. The hold on her wrist tighten as she saw the Ravenclaw held his head up. And seeing the frown on his lips and that small taint of anger on his [Eye color] eyes made Hermoine rethink on her decisions to be nosy.

"I am terribly sorry!" Hermoine squeaked out. "I was just curious on what you were writing!" She softly cried as the male looked at her in the eye.

A second passed in silence and the stare down made Hermoine's nerves tighen in a knot. It felt like hours when un real time was only around twenty-two seconds before [Name] had let go of her wrist.

"You could've woken me up instead of reading with out my permission," [Name] grunted as he swiped off the parchment on Hermione's hand and placed it on the table. Turning away from Hermoine who stood mouth agape as he then ignored her and picked up a quill and started writing on the parchment where was still left unfinished. Dipping his quill on an opened ink bottle before he did so to write.

Hermoine stood there with mind boggled. In hand, she was absolutely furious on how the male was just plain rude to her. But on the other hand, she guess it was justified when how she just took his parchment without his permission.

'Well, he didn't have to be rude about it!' Hermoine had angrily thought but had let out a squeak when she saw the Ravenclaw student turned his head to look at her. Raising a brow as to silently question on what she was doing, standing there. Unmoving.

"Are you going stand there like a petrified victim of a Basilisk?" [Name] had asked which made Hermoine enrage at his words. It made her remember of her sceond year in Hogwarts. The time where the Chamber of Secrets were opened and she was a victim of patrification. Luckily, Harry Potter had conquered the horrid beast and put a close to the chamber. Glaring at the male, she turned around to go.

"You have don't have to be a rude prat on telling me to go," Hermoine muttered underneath her breathe.

"And who said I wanted you to go?" [Name] asked.

Hermoine froze.

'What...?' Hermoine had thought as she turned her head to look at the Ravenclaw only to see him back on looking at his parchment and scribbling his quill onto it.

"I'm sorry?" Hermoine softly said. Confusion in her tone.

[Name] didn't even bat an eye to her as he continued to write on his essay. He merely blunt out his amswer, uncaringly. "I have seen you prompted up on that table, two tables away from here, for days now and you always had that look of suffering," he had said.

Hermoine was baffled. Mouth agape as she looked at the nonchalant male scribbling away.

"Excuse me?" Hermoine had asked. Rather both angered and confused.

"What I mean is, I could help whatever is ailing you," [Name] had said as he rolled his eyes. Siding a quick look at the Gryffindor female standing aghast.

"You are having trouble, are you not?" He asked. Tilting his head to the side as he sent Hermoine a look of confusion.

"I... um..." Muttered Hermoine as her feeling of angered slowly diminished when she realized the male was actually offering her help. She was quiet shy though as she always was the "smart" one in her little group of friend (which consisted of the boy who lived and a bloodtraitor). So, a person willing to give her help rather taunting her of her heritage (Malfoy and his goons) or just be brushed off (most of her year level classmates), it made her feel happy.

"A... a bit..." Hermoine had said. A warmth feeling was rushing on the Gryffindor female as the Ravenclaw nodded at her.

"Alright," he had stated as he went back to writing.

Hermoine stood awkwardly in place as she thought that maybe the Ravenclaw student either forgotten about her existence despite him resonding seconds ago or maybe he was just joking about the offer of help. She was about to ask about it when the Ravenclaw male had looked at her. Sending an annoyed look at her direction.

"Well?" He asked annoyed. "Are you going to get your things over so I could help or should I cast Accio to get it?"

Hermoine looked at him baffled. He was rude but he was also willing to help her ot with her essay. So, she nodded her head and immediately went to go and fetch her things. As Hermoine turned her back away from him, a soft smile made it's way onto [Name]'s lips.

"Hermoine Granger... nice to officially meet you..." [Name] softly muttered as he went back to looking at his essay and began to write again. Smile lingering for a second until it was gone. Like it wasn't there in the first place.

Hermoine came back to where the rude Ravenclaw student with a huff. Puffing her cheeks for a seconds until she shakes her head and sighed. 'Common Hermoine, he can't be that bad if he offered you help!' She had thought. Trying to think positively to not be angered or annoyed with the male student who had sent her a quick gaze then look backed to her parchment which she noticed was almost done. [Name] gestured to the seat next to him with his other hand and Hermoine hesitantly went to it.

Gently putting her things down onto the table, Hermoine took the chair underneath the tabke then sat at it. Scooching a bit away to keep distance to the male student who she realized had not asked his name yet.

And as if he was reading her mind, he had just said out of a blue.

"[Name]," he had said. The Gryffindor blinked.

"What?" Hermoine had asked, confused. [Name] in return rolled his eyes.

"That's my name," [Name] said in a bored tone.

"Oh! Um... my names--" Hermoine started but was rudely cut off by the male. "Give me your essay."

Enrage, Hermoine took her parchment where it had contained her essay and shoved it onto [Name]'s outstretched hand hard. Hermoine saw that [Name] didn't seemed to be bothered by what she had done which made her honestly angry a bit.

[Name] scanned at her essay as he then put it in front her on the table.

"Your essay is going well," he said which made Hermoine feel proud of herself. Angery slowly diminishing away. "But its sloppy," [Name] bluntly said.

Anger was back as Hermoine glared at him when she had snapped out of her momentary shock. "P... pardon?" She asked.

"You didn't start off on the history of warewolves. You did not specify why there are those kinds of beings and why they itch to bite," [Name] had said as he looked at Hermoine in the eye. Each word made Hermione's blood boil. It was the first time someone had said those to her. Calling her work sloppy as she was used to have people praise her academics brilliantly.

"And you certainly did not have any conclusion on why they shapeshift back to human when they can stay as horrid beast."

The last comment made Hermoine burst. It was not the comment on her work. Yes, it was a factor but what made her fully burst in rage was that [Name] had called werewolves as 'horrid beast'. Hermoine remembered Remus Lupin, or rather, professor Lupin, her DADA professor on her third year in Hogwarts that was a werewolf.

Hermoine remembered how kind and sweet professor Lupin was despite being a warewolf and she did not condone anyone talking badly at warewolves because of her experience of a very kind one of their kind.

"Escuse me? 'Horrid beast'?!?" Hermoine had said. Her tone was close to shouting but she tried to calm herself down. That did not stop the angered glare she sent to the Ravenclaw who looked at her. There was surprised plastered in his face for a second before it was wiped out with boredom replacing it.

"Yes," [Name] said. Not paying mind the glare that Hermoine was sending him. "Horrid beast... anyone can be a horrid beast... with or without being a warwolf," he had said. Hermoine was about to counter when she realized what he had said.

"What? An... anyone?" Hermoine had dumbly asked. [Name] didn't say anything as he looked at the parchment he had placed in front Hermoine then looked at his.

"Correct you chronological order of the warewolves history then go to the bite and its cause," [Name] had said. Dropping the subject as he went back to writing at his essay. [Name] would occasionally look at the text book opened in front of him then going back to writing.

Hermoine sat dumbly there for a second or so. When she realized that the Ravenclaw would not answer her, she decided to rewrite her essay like what [Name] had said to her.

On other times, Hermoine would poke and poke until she knew what he was meaning to say but the Gryffindor female saw that the subject was a very fragile one. There was something forbidden about it like the that Philosopher Stone business in her first year. But this time, she did not try her luck and ask for more content on it.

Hermoine did as told. She started writing the history if warewolves. Who was the first one to be a werewolf, how and why. The cause of being bitten and evrything that [Name] had said to her awhile ago.

The two sat in a comfortable silence where the onky spund were the scratching of quills, papers shuffled and some occasional mutter from either Hermoine or [Name].

About an hour or two, Hermoine finished her essay on the history of warewolves and the infection is caused when bitten. On that time being in the middle fo writing, she would occasionally be assisted by [Name]. Him pointing out some small mistakes that she had corrected and would also give her basic background. Hermoine grew less tense and annoyed at the Ravenclaw on those few hours of writing.

[Name] was blunt and rude. Hermoine had to say that. But [Name] also seemed to be dedicated to his studies, the proof was the four pages essay of the world war one which had fifteenth inch of well written words delicately scribbled on the parchment. And he was still writing another page to back up the strategies he had concluded the old generals has used.

He was also a perfectionist but it seemed to be a great asset to him and her as when Hermoine looked at her essay that she was having trouble hours ago was writing well. Well organised with well written facts and background and it made Hermoine very happy and thankful.

As Hermoine admired her well written and finished essay, [Name] had sent her a quick glance. Having to stop his scribbling on another fifteenth inch essay as he looked at the window a few tables away from where he and Hermoine was sitting at. Seeing the orange and pink hue of the sky made him conclude that it was already late.

[Name] had sneaked his hand onto underneath his robes to go to his uniform's pants' pocket. Grabbing an old and yet still well looking, silver pocket watch. Looking at the time, a grimmed look appeared on his face for a quick moment before it was replaced with utter disappointment. A tired left his lips as he put his quill down.

"It's late," [Name] had said as he pocketed his silver pocket watch back to his pants' pocket and pushed himself back. He then stood up from his seat and began to put away his things.

"Huh?" Hermoine had squeaked out. Finally out from admiring her essay and had turned to look at [Name] who was putting away his quills and unused parchments.

"It's late," [Name] didn't even turned to look at Hermoine when he said that.

"Oh," Hermoine had softly said as she furrowed her eyebrows. Still looking at the Ravenclaw packing up his stuff. Hermoine was rather saddened. Despite this Ravenclaw male was rather rude to her, she had to admit that he had interest her. And not to mention that he was very nice to offer help despite being a bit of a prat when saying he is willing to give assistance.

"Well... um..." Hermoine mumbles incoherently as she looked at her essay then back to the Ravenclaw male who had finally finished packing his stuff and was neatly piled on the table.

"I... um..." [Name] turned and raised a brow at the mumbling female beside him.

"Are you going to act like a newly obliviated muggle," [Name] had bluntly stated as he turned and began to take his stuff on his hand. Not before he had took out his wand, wave over it and muttered a soft, "locomotor!" which made the books he wasn't carrying on his hand float a bit.

"Or are you going to spit whatever you want to say out?" He had said as he turned to look at Hermoine in the eye.

Enraged a bit. Hermoine said what had first came to her mind.

"I... honestly you're quite rude," snapped Hermoine. She suddenly cupped her hands onto her mouth as her eyes widen. She realized what she had just said.

"I-- oh my! I did not-- I mean! I was--" Hermoine fumbled with her words as she stood up. Her chair screeching but she did not care for she was in too much shock and horror for her to form an apology or some sense.

Hermoine was absolutely scared out of her wits until she heard laughter. Looking at [Name], her eyes widen a bit more if possible as she saw the stuck up, rude Ravenclaw laughing at her. A soft smile on his lips as he finished his laughter looked at her form.

"Tell me something I don't know, alright?" [Name] had said. Amusement twinkling on his [Eye color eyes that Hermoine immediately noticed. It was, after all, the same eyes that had glared her the first time and the same eyes who always held some form of drowsiness despite the male had been awake as he wrote his essay. Those eyes that Hermoine had to admit was quite beautiful.

"I... erm..." Hermoine mumbled as [Name] sent her one last glance as he turned and began to walk away. The stuff he wasn't carrying but placed a spell was following close behind him. Leaving Hermoine fumbling and tumbling on her own thoughts as he left.

"Wait!" Cried Hermoine.

[Name] stopped as he turned his head to look at Hermoine. Raising a brow.

"My name's Hermoine!" She said as she saw [Name] nodded.

"I... um... would... I would like to... to do this another time... if you don't mind," Hermoine softly said.

[Name] looked at her for a second as he then turned back as he walked away. Hermione's figure sulked as she frowned. She actually wanted to meet this Ravenclaw boy again. He was rude yet nice in his own way. Hermoine thought that maybe she had made a other friend.

"I'm always here at tuesdays and fridays. I tend to go to the lake outside to read aswell on weekends," Hermoine heard [Name] same. Perking her head up as she looked at the retreating form of the Ravenclaw.

"I... uh... okay!" Hermoine had said as she smiled. Excitement in her cire as she realized that tomorrow was a saturday. Meaning, she could meet [Name] on the lake.

Hermoine turned herself around and began packing her things. There was a giddy in each step she took as she walked around the halls to go back to Gryffindor's room. In her mind, she took note to bring her favorite muggle book she had brought here in Hogwarts and hopefully get to talk about it to the rude Ravenclaw she had acquainted on on the library who seemed to enjoy muggle studies.

Hermoine was rather glad to having trouble with her essay. Because maybe, just maybe, she could finally have another friend.

#harry potter #hp #harry potter x male reader #hp x male reader #hermoine granger #hermoine #granger #hermoine granger x male reader #hermoine x male reader #fluff #hermoine is trans #fuck jk rolwing #fuck off ters #x male reader #male reader insert #male reader #seme male reader #top male reader #dom male reader

[generalskales]

I'm feeling better so I'll continue a little with info on unwritten au and the ninja

Cole

The oldest of the gang at 24 years old

Ran away from home when he was 14 to forge his own path, met with a weird old guy who taught him how to defend himself in exchange for tea

Had a near death experience that left weird green scars on his body and face

Rare to see him without some sort of sunglasses

Has a pair of scythes that he uses to scare would be muggers (and also helps him get things off shelves he cant reach)

Lloyd

As established he's babey, but the truth is that he's like 16 and just really short

Doesn't talk much and as a result his voice sounds like he's been punched in the throat

Has yet to figure out how to speak the same language as everyone else and it drives him insane, but he does understand what they are saying through context and body language

Second most likely to kill a man

Kei

Master of Good Luck and knows it

Looked like Kai to a ridiculous degree for a long time before she decided enough was enough and changed her look enough to distinguish herself (it still happens occasionally)

Has a twin sister named Aria who masters bad luck, they cancel out when their next to each other

Loves to play with kids and made quick friends with Lloyd

Second oldest at 23

Actually has trained to be a ninja before going with her sister to find Malice, and knows how to get information the "hard" way

Generally a nice person but has limits that only a few people have reached

Like her sister she has a degree of control of both kinds of luck, but mainly doesnt use the bad luck side of her powers

Has a pair of dice and a pair of swords, hopefully you have better luck with the dice or get diced

Ice Angel

A mysterious hero that no one is really close to figuring out

The only known fact is the ice powers, that they're on the side of the people, and they're not human

Goes by they/he/she

Their voice is a mixture of both masculine and feminine

Wears a lot of white and teal

Arch Enemy of the Morro Dragon, Anacondrai Cultists, and Sons of Garmadon

Refuses to have their picture taken and is one of the few things they will call people out on (other than bad behavior)

Kai

Orphaned at the ripe old age of 9

Wears dresses and other female oriented clothes and refuses to stop (the exception being when it's impractical to do so)

A good big brother and substitute parent to his baby sister

Dropped out of school at 13 so he could care for his sister 24/7 and not deal with the bitch of a baby sitter

Is being educated by Zane on what he missed in school for 7 years and is learning quickly

Has a game with Nya on who can make the disaster bi known as Jay blush first, so far he's winning

Finds the resemblance to Kei hilarious and has even convinced her to go as him for Halloween while he went as her

Still sour that his little sister is taller than him

Is aware of his fire powers but still prefers the good old hairspray and lighter combo due to the sheer chaotic energy

Nya

Was 7 when she was orphaned

When she found out Kai ditched school for her she scolded him for a solid 3 hours

Somehow befriended the Gordon kid while she was out playing and they've been friends ever since

Might end you if prompted

Obsessed with Ice Angel and gets with Jay everyday after classes to figure them out

Doesn't like her hair long due to having it pulled a lot when she was younger, very occasionally she'll grow it out

Despite not looking like she can she could twist you into a pretzal

Indulges Lloyd's desire to be thrown at soft surfaces

Speaking of which, she became his teacher in how to speak the language in Ninjago City while he taught her some dragon

Speaks with her hands a lot

Dyed a purple streak into her hair and it drives her brother crazy

Jay

Had celebrity parents and won't let anyone forget it

Tried to be an actor like his birth dad but couldnt deal with all the lights and sounds

Got adopted by a nice couple at a scrapyard and is embarrassed by it (not to the point of ungratefullness)

Kept the surname Gordon instead of Walker because he wants to remember his birth parents

Has adhd but is unmedicated for personal reasons (that being he has had bad history with medication)

Needs to go to therapy

Puts up a bratty, self-centered, "alpha bitch" persona to hide himself

After the event that left his parents dead he found out he's losing sight in his left eye

Is actually very insecure and uses other guys and gals fawning over him to avoid the problem (this causes more problems)

Found a friend in Nya, Kai, and Zane due to similar backgrounds and experiences. Has yet to befriend Cole due to personality clash

Has a bad case of Baby Face, looks much younger but is actually 24 like Cole (This causes much more problems)

Is openly Bi and Trans and refuses to let anyone step on him for it and unintentionally caused the younger lgbtqia+ students to flock to him. He doesn't mind this and will defend them to the death

A hardcore Ice Angel fanboy, would probably die on the spot if he met them

Has made friends with Kei's twin sister Aria and somehow manages to avoid the bad luck from it despite her admitting that she isn't reflecting it or surpressing it at all

Has a pocket knife for emergencies (thankfully unused)

Zane

An android with self esteem issues

Tutors Kai (and occasionally Cole) in school subjects and plans to get a job in education

Playfully debates Ice Angel with Jay and Nya

Wears a black scarf that has seen better days. He got it from his dad before he passed

The tallest member and the only one who can legally drive

The only one who can cook but can't bake for shit

When it came out that he was an android he was initally terrified of possible mistreatment but the worst he's dealt with is people claiming he's cheating during gym or tests (which has been dealt with)

Claims to have a girlfriend on the opposite side of the continent, and he does but obviously no one is going to believe it without proof

Usually seen with a small crowd of overheated classmates during hot days (the only issue being the amount of them)

Despite being metal, he's surprisingly squishy and besides obvious signs of robotics, looks very human

Will call you a two timing back stabbing bitch in the nicest way possible

Morro

A dragon hybrid gone haywire

Will call you a two timing back stabbing bitch in the most blunt way possible

After everything he's been through its a miracle he's not dead

Dramatic and focuses just as much on presentation as he does on anything else

Would sell you to the Preeminent for half a hot dog

Rancid Little Rat Man

Secretly crushing on Ice Angel and commits petty crimes to get their attention

Somehow one of the few people trusted with their true identity

Behavior suggests that he's looking for something

The mere presence of Kei or Aria sets him off

Lives with Ronin bc the alternative is the sewers

#unwritten au #ninjago original character #ninjago morro #ninjago au #ninjago oc #ninjago #ninjago ronin #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #nya smith #jay gordon #jay walker #cole brookstone #zane julien

[aion-rsa]

Holiday Gift Guide 2020: Books for Geeks

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

The holiday season is probably going to look very different this year, but there’s one thing that hasn’t changed: the sacred ritual of gift-giving. While we might not be able to gather in the same way for the 2020 holiday season, we can still let the people in our lives know how much they mean to us with the perfect gift (and maybe get ourselves something nice while we’re at it—we deserve it).

We here at Den of Geek believe there is no better gift than a good book and, with nerd culture still very much mainstream culture, there is no shortage of geeky books to get the nerd in your life. From Star Wars and Star Trek to Outlander and Wheel of Time to those speculative fiction books that broke into the zeitgeist this year without a franchise to support them, here’s a list of books we recommend for every kind of geek…

Editor’s note: Den of Geek may receive a small commission from items purchased through the links in this story.

The Eye of the World 30th Anniversary Edition by Robert Jordan

For the “Wheel of Time” fan in your life.

We’re all excited about the forthcoming Amazon Prime adaptation of the Wheel of Time series, especially long-time fans of Jordan’s fantasy epic. It’s been 30 years since the series launched, and this special 30th Anniversary Edition of the first book in the series, The Eye of the World, helps capture all the magic of reading the book for the first time. This edition features a new introduction by Brandon Sanderson, a hardcover stamp of the snake-wheel symbol so important to the series, redesigned jacket art, and a ribbon bookmark. Whether you want to give this to a longtime fan or whether you’re hoping to hook an epic fantasy reader on the series, the high production value on this special edition makes for a great gift.

Buy The Eye of the World 30th Anniversary Edition by Robert Jordan

The Wintertime Paradox: Festive Stories from the World of Doctor Who by Dave Rudden

For the Doctor Who fan in your life.

This spin on Doctor Who features twelve stories in the “Whoverse” all set on or around Christmas. While the holiday doesn’t play an important feature in many of the stories, visions of the Doctor’s Christmas Past, Present, and Future are sure to entertain. Though most likely to appeal to fans of the series, this is also a collection marketed toward children, which makes it possible to share your love of the series with a young person in your life.

Buy The Wintertime Paradox: Festive Stories from the World of Doctor Who by Dave Rudden

Heroes’ Feast: The Official Dungeons and Dragons Cookbook

For the gamer in your life.

While cooking these recipes isn’t as simple as casting the titular spell, it does contain eighty recipes for fantasy inspired feasts. In addition to the recipes—some of which may be a little challenging for beginners, as they start from scratch rather than premade ingredients—the foods come with lore about the foods from the familiar Dungeons and Dragons cultures. Included are recipes for Feywild Eggs, “Orc” Bacon, Dwarven Mulled Wine, and Halfling Heartland’s Rose Apple and Blackberry Pie. Making some of these for game night might be a challenge, but Halfling-style Melted Cheeses with Chunky Tomato Broth sounds so good, your giftee won’t even mind if some spills on their character sheet.

Buy Heroes’ Feast: The Official Dungeons and Dragons Cookbook

Rebel Sisters by Tochi Onyebuchi

For the anti-war, YA fan in your life.

It’s been a big year for Onyebuchi, with this second book in his “War Girls” series and his first adult novel, Riot Baby, hitting the shelves. Onyebuchi’s Afrofuturist YA features nineteen year old Ify as a respected medical officer on the Space Colonies, and Uzo, a synth who’s working to preserve the memories and history of wartorn Nigeria. When a virus hits the Space Colonies, Ify must return to Nigeria for answers—even though she’d pledged to leave her homeland behind. For readers who love strong Black girls leading the action in a space-bound future, this is a fantastic pick.

Buy Rebel Sisters by Tochi Onyebuchi

To Sleep in a Sea of Stars by Christopher Paolini

For the Eragon and space opera fan.

Fantasy readers remember Christopher Paolini from “The Inheritance Cycle,” published for YA readers, which were filled with dragons and magic. But Paolini’s first adult novel heads into space, introducing the Fractalverse setting, and focusing on a xenobiologist whose encounter with an ancient, alien artifact sends her across the galaxy, where the fate of humanity rests on her shoulders. This is a great choice for fans who grew up on Paolini’s YA novels, or for readers who like doorstopper sci fi.

Buy To Sleep in a Sea of Stars by Christopher Paolini

The Hollow Ones by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan

For fans of The Strain.

The Strain had four seasons on FX, and the horror drama procedural won fans and awards. The show was based on a trilogy of novels from master of horror Guillermo del Toro and literary heavyweight Chuck Hogan, who have now reunited on a fresh series. The Hollow Ones follows a young FBI agent who discovers an otherworldly evil when it takes over her partner—and forces her to kill him in self defense. For fans who love their procedurals with a heavy dose of horror, this is sure to keep their spines tingling.

Buy The Hollow Ones by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan

The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian by Phil Szostak

For fans of Baby Yoda.

The Mandalorian has clearly been a breakout show for Disney+, putting new life into the Star Wars universe, and featuring everyone’s favorite new character, The Child (aka Baby Yoda). The end of each episode features concept art designed for the show, and for viewers who love seeing where the ideas germinated, The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian is a fantastic way to dig into the details of the first season.

Buy The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian by Phil Szostak

Cemetery Boys by Aidan Thomas

For queer paranormal romance lovers.

Yadriel is determined to prove himself as a brujo—even though his family hasn’t accepted him as a boy. But when he raises the wrong spirit while trying to solve the mystery of his cousin’s death, everything gets more complicated. In our review, we praised the book for its groundbreaking depiction of trans identity in Latinx culture and called it “a riveting, romantic read filled with paranormal wonder.” Fans who loved the queer romance reveal in She-Ra won’t be able to stop turning pages.

Buy Cemetery Boys by Aidan Thomas

Seven of Infinities by Aliette de Bodard

For the lover of science fiction sleuths.

This latest in de Bodard’s Xuya universe features an unlikely pair of detectives teaming up to solve a murder. Vân is a poor scholar hiding her possession of an illegal implant. Sunless Woods is a mindship who is also a thief and master of disguise. The pair have to work together to solve a murder—and unravel their own secrets. For readers who enjoyed de Bodard’s previous The Tea Master and the Detective or enjoy a good detective tale in space, this is a sure hit.

Buy Seven of Infinities by Aliette de Bodard

Super Mario: Manga Mania by Yukio Sawada

For the NES nostalgic.

It’s the 35th anniversary of Super Mario Bros! This is the first Super Mario manga ever available in English, and for classic NES fans nostalgic for the good old days of their vintage system, the zany adventures contained in this volume hit all the right notes.

Buy Super Mario: Manga Mania by Yukio Sawada

Sal and Gabi Break / Fix the Universe by Carlos Hernandez

For the young reader in your life.

The Sal and Gabi duology (Sal and Gabi Break the Universe and Sal and Gabi Fix the Universe) are ostensibly about a boy who can reach through the multiverse and bring things through to his part of reality—but they’re also about friendship, finding common ground, being your best self, and sentient AI. Most middle grade books depict middle school as an evil horrible place, as much an antagonist as the book’s real villain. The Sal and Gabi books do away with all of that. Not only is Culeco Academy the coolest middle school ever, the series manages to ramp up all the tension and drama needed without having an actual villain. (Even the people who seem villainous at first turn out to be different from expected.) These are a delight for adult readers who love middle grade fiction, but they’re even more important for middle schoolers, who deserve to see kids their age saving the multiverse in communities full of hope and love.

Buy Sal and Gabi Break / Fix the Universe by Carlos Hernandez

Outlander Knitting: The Official Book of 20 Knits Inspired by the Hit Series by Kate Atherley

For the crafter in your life.

For fans of either Diana Gabaldon’s time-travel romance novel series or the hit Starz adaptation, this collection of patterns inspired by the show will transport your crafting friend into the Scottish Highlands. Featured among the projects are clothing, accessories, and decorations for the home.

Buy Outlander Knitting: The Official Book of 20 Knits Inspired by the Hit Series by Kate Atherley

The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones

For horror fans.

Compared favorably to horror-master Stephen King’s It, this classic revenge horror seamlessly combines elements of social commentary and drama. The story follows for American Indian men who, as childhood friends, experienced a disturbing event together. Now, the past has come back with a vengeance, and there’s no avoiding the violence they tried to leave behind. Jones is making his mark in the world of horror, and this is a not-to-be-missed thriller.

Buy The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones

Teen Titans: Raven and Beast Boy box set by Kami Garcia and Gabriel Picolo

For DC fans.

Garcia and Picolo’s Raven and Beast Boy origin stories reinvent the characters for an audience who may have already met them in kid-friendly Teen Titans Go! or adult-aimed Titans. While the comic versions presented here draw on those previous incarnations, the stories are self-contained, giving readers both familiar and new to the DC series a chance to experience them for the first time. This hardcover box set gives the books an extra gift-worthy feeling.

Buy Teen Titans: Raven and Beast Boy box set by Kami Garcia and Gabriel Picolo

Thorn by Intisar Khanani

For the friend who needs a fresh fairy tale.

In this retelling of “The Goose Girl,” reluctant Princess Alyrra is happy to have escaped royal life. But when she learns of a plot against the prince, she must decide whether to reclaim the heritage she wanted to leave behind, or let the kingdom fall. This beautiful hardcover edition also features an additional short story set in the same world.

Buy Thorn by Intisar Khanani

Dinosaurs: The Grand Tour, Second Edition: Everything Worth Knowing about Dinosaurs from Aardonyx to Zuniceratops by Keiron Pim

For Jurassic World and other dinosaur fans.

While the 2020 entry into the Jurassic World franchise, Camp Cretaceous, was geared toward younger viewers, plenty of adults never grow out of their love of dinosaurs. And why should they? These prehistoric terrors continue to be amazing—and modern scientists continue to make new discoveries on an almost weekly basis. This huge guide to dinosaur species offers references for more than 300 species full of colorful illustrations that show these titans in all their (feathery!) glory.

Buy Dinosaurs—The Grand Tour, Second Edition: Everything Worth Knowing about Dinosaurs from Aardonyx to Zuniceratops by Keiron Pim

The City We Became by N. K. Jemisin

For the SFF connoisseur.

This series starter is set in a contemporary New York—but the city is coming to life. But a city killer is trying to stop New York from evolving, and the city’s mortal avatars are the target of its plans. It’s not uncommon to hear people considering N. K. Jemisin the best modern writer of speculative fiction, bar none, so picking up The City We Became, her most recent novel, is a no brainer if you’re buying for someone who likes smart, quality SFF.

Buy The City We Became by N. K. Jemisin

Cyber Shogun Revolution by Peter Tieryas

For the mecha enthusiast.

This triumphant conclusion to Tieryas’s United States of Japan trilogy, which can be read as a stand-alone, takes place in an alternate reality where Japan and Germany won World War II and divided the United States between them. An assassin known as Bloody Mary is determined to eliminate corruption from within the United States of Japan, regardless of the cost. It’s up to a secret police agent and a star mecha pilot to stop her, but determining enemies from friends is almost impossible. Tieryas balances the super cool world of mecha battles and spy action with searing social commentary and ethical questions, making this a challenging but imminently worthwhile read for fans of Pacific Rim.

Buy Cyber Shogun Revolution by Peter Tieryas

Star Trek: The Wisdom of Picard by Chip Carter

For the Star Trek fan in your life.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard has always been quotably wise. In this collection, Chip Carter pulls together some of the greatest lines, featuring Picard’s thoughts on leadership, justice, and space exploration. The quotes are accompanied by photography from iconic scenes of The Next Generation, making this a perfect gift for the Star Trek fan who already has everything.

Buy Star Trek: The Wisdom of Picard by Chip Carter

Axiom’s End by Lindsay Ellis

For fans of Arrival and Stranger Things.

This first contact story from Hugo-nominated video-essayist Ellis is set in an alternate 2007. In the world of the novel, Cora’s father has blown the whistle on the first contact cover up. Cora herself wants nothing to do with aliens, but when one of the aliens decides Cora is the only human he’ll talk to, she’s stuck in the middle of everything. For lovers of aliens and conspiracy theories, this is one to pick up.

Buy Axiom’s End by Lindsay Ellis

Court of Lions by Somaiya Daud

For lovers of YA court intrigue.

In this sequel to Daud’s Mirage, Amani, who has been forced to serve as the body double for Princess Maram, is on her last chance. The princess discovered Amani’s connection to the rebellion, and now Maram is suspicious of anything Amani does. Yet Amani is dedicated to the cause of seeing her people free, which means she has to make a choice: continue to work from within the palace and risk her life, or flee and risk her people. For a female-centered plot that deals with consequences of colonialism, this series conclusion and its predecessor are a sure hit.

Buy Court of Lions by Somaiya Daud

Star Wars From a Certain Point of View: The Empire Strikes Back

For the Star Wars fan.

Called “one of the best Star Wars books released this year” in our Den of Geek review, this anthology is packed with stories from authors both well-known and unfamiliar, whose works delve into the lives of central and side characters from The Empire Strikes Back. While some explore relationships between key characters (Luke, Leia, Obi-wan), others tackle the points of view of previously unnamed creatures (Sy-O, the space slug that swallows the Millenium Falcon). The stories are sometimes delightfully weird, other times grim or tender, and all a good gift choice for the Star Wars fan whose favorite film is still Empire.

Buy Star Wars From a Certain Point of View: The Empire Strikes Back

Remina by Junji Ito

For the manga fan.

This science fiction horror story centers on Dr. Oguro, who discovers a planet that has emerged from a wormhole and names it after his daughter, Remina. But as the girl Remina rises to fame, the planet shifts its course, threatening all life on Earth. Could Remina herself be the cause? This chilling story is a classic from Eisner-winner Junji Ito newly released for an English-reading audience.

Buy Remina by Junji Ito

Be Water, My Friend: The Teachings of Bruce Lee by Shannon Lee

For the martial arts enthusiast.

For friends who like a little more grounded, real-world take, this exploration of Bruce Lee’s philosophies, written by his daughter, offer insight into the legendary martial artist. Although this title offers no martial arts tips, it is full of philosophy, untold stories, and inspirational takes from the cultural icon.

Buy Be Water, My Friend: The Teachings of Bruce Lee by Shannon Lee

Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

For the lover of gothic horror.

When her cousin begs her to come rescue her from a mysterious doom, Noemí heads to a house in the Mexican countryside. As she looks into the secrets of both the house and her newly-wed cousin’s husband, Noemí finds that there’s more danger—real and supernatural—than she ever imagined. Set in the 1950s, this supernatural horror blends elements of Rebecca and science fiction for a chilling novel perfect for lovers of classic gothics.

Buy Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Marvel Greatest Comics: 100 Comics That Built a Universe

For the Marvel fan.

In a collection that spans the entire history of Marvel comics, characters like the Human Torch, Spider-Man, the Avengers, and the Guardians of the Galaxy show their historical origins. If you have a fan who’s waiting impatiently for the next MCU offering, this collection of some of Marvel’s defining comics from the company’s history may be just what they need to tide them over.

Buy Marvel Greatest Comics: 100 Comics that Built a Universe

Star Daughter by Shveta Thakrar

For lovers of mythology and fairy tales.

Billed as Neil Gaiman’s Stardust meets Hindi mythology, this debut novel centers on the daughter of a star and a mortal. Sheetal tries to be normal, but when her starfire accidentally hurts her mortal father, she must travel to the celestial court in order to save him. The combination of court intrigue, mythology, and a fairy-tale like tone is perfect for YA lovers.

Buy Star Daughter by Shveta Thakrar

Emerald Blaze by Ilona Andrews

For the romantic who needs a great stocking stuffer.

Although better known for the popular Kate Daniels series, the Ilona Andrews team (husband and wife Ilona and Gordon) has knocked it out of the park with the most recent installment in their “Hidden Legacy” series. There are now five novels and a novella in the series, with Emerald Blaze as the second book of a second arc, but while the book is most likely to resonate with readers already introduced to the character, it’s also a stand-alone magic-spy-action-adventure-romance. Despite that blend of genres, Team Andrews melds it all together in a world with both super cool magic and an alternate-reality Instagram, featuring characters you want to hang out with regardless of the stakes. The mass-market size also makes it perfect to slip into a stocking!

Buy Emerald Blaze by Ilona Andrews

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[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 8: The Tower Upright

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Ryder and Taylor head to local out-of-the-way voodoo vendor Laveau’s for the final ingredient in their protection ritual. While he waits, Taylor gets his fortune told by the real deal—a spirit medium descended from Marie herself.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Krom’s barely through the threshold before Taylor pounces; hovers around him comically short and buzzing like a gnat.

“So, what did they say? Do I need to call — I don’t have my phone, shit — please tell me I’m not cut from the show.”

Luckily the stone troll looks freaked-out enough to get him to stop and apologize. “Sorry,” he mutters, “I just…”

“No, no I completely understand!” Krom scratches the tips of his head and laughs it off, “I just didn’t want to step on you.”

“He’s not that short.” calls Ivy from her booth at the back.

Taylor shrugs it off. “But I appreciate it.”

“Anyway; the company manager’s a little mad no one could reach you but I convinced them to give you a week of sick leave? Even though there was this one weirdly giddy guy…”

They join Ivy on either side. Taylor groans and rubs his hand over his face.

“That would be Antoni. He doesn’t matter. I really appreciate you doing this for me, Krom.”

“It’s no trouble!” And the troll’s voice is so filled with sincerity he has no trouble believing it.

“That’s our darling Krom.” Garrus returns behind the bar with his tray of collected dirty steins and beer glasses. “He’s like an angel; always helping others. You’ve got nothing to prove sweetheart — you know that.”

Ivy answers Taylor’s question before he even has the chance to ask it; “Stone trolls have a bit of a rep’ around here. You saw their natural element at Persephone.”

“Bodyguards, hired muscle, and the like.” Krom agrees; pointedly trying to keep his voice his usual baritone despite Garrus’ casual compliments.

“So you’re a pacifist?”

“In the flesh — so to speak.”

There’s a thud from behind and all eyes turn to see a stack of crates stumbling out from behind the back room curtain. Not hovering in midair as Taylor originally thought but carried by a very red-faced Cal. Who still forces on a smile through his gritted teeth at Garrus.

“Where… where?”

The fae gestures with a bony finger. “Just leave ‘em behind here. I’ll unpack before the evening rush.”

He slams them down before Taylor can even try to offer help — grumbles under his breath about something he can’t quite catch but he knows Cal’s grateful to Garrus for giving him a place to stay. He must be paying off the stupor he drank himself into following their return as less-than-triumphant heroes.

“I should start taking in strays more often — pun not intended,” Garrus teases but all in good humor; especially when he slides a cool glass of water for Cal to chug when his hands are free, “someone to do the heavy lifting around here and all that.”

Krom shifts in his seat. Something so subtle only the two beside him notice it. But Ivy doesn’t give him the chance to let it go and kicks his rock of a leg with her heels.

“I — I could help with whatever you need, Garrus?” Even though it comes out as more of a question than anything.

The look the two exchange is strange but fond. Garrus’ eyes softening under the twinkling lights. Maybe he regrets what he said — or the implications behind it.

“But if you’re laboring around here then what would I have to look at for inspiration?”

Not the smoothest save, in Taylor’s opinion. But Krom acts like it’s the highest form of praise and brushes the compliment off with a wave.

“Are they always like this?” Taylor whispers to Ivy. The revenant just sighs and nods. A long-suffering struggle on her end no doubt.

Heavy footfalls on metal steps herald Ryder’s arrival from the apartments above. He looks around and beelines towards Taylor in a way that almost has him jumping and hiding.

“You, me; let’s go.”

“That’s not how you ask a man out on a date, Nik.” chides Ivy as she pushes the mortals together.

“What?” He blinks; shakes himself out of whatever thoughts compelled him to seek Taylor out. “Wh — shut up, Iv’.”

“Right,” she winks, “he’ll go with you anyway. It’s part of your brutish charm.”

“Shut up, Iv’.” Taylor parrots with a glare. “Is the spell finally ready?”

Not that he’s not enjoying his time at the Shift. And following the disaster that was the Bayou and Persephone he’s not exactly eager to go into other supernatural spaces any time soon.

But he’s never been one to stay cooped up for long.

Ryder huffs. “Not quite. Damn toad wart expired. Luckily though there’s a shop down the road that carries simple ingredients — so put away that grin Iv’. I’m done owin’ you for now.”

Probably a good thing judging by the low witchy cackle she gives instead.

“So let’s get goin’, hustle hustle.”

“But wait — is it safe?” Taylor follows anyway. Keeping at the Nighthunter’s heels is practically his new job. “You didn’t even want me leaving for the theater.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“With your hallelujah arrows, right?”

“Holy light arrows, Rook. You sound like an idiot when you say that.”

“Well now I’ll keep doing it to piss you off.”

“‘Course, because why would you do anything else?”

Their bickering continues out onto the ruins of another day of Mardi Gras fun. At least some things never lose a sense of normalcy.

It’s a small shop — one of those ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ types. The shop name LAVEAU’s is hand-painted above a doorway embellished with the classic purple, green, and golden plastic beads of the season’s parties.

Taylor stops Ryder before he opens the door. “‘Laveau’s’ like…?”

“Read the signs, Rook.”

There they are clear as day; painted by the same hand as the top sign but with an artist’s frustration behind every black-painted stroke. One on the door declaring ‘Yes, like Marie herself’ and then one blue-tacked beneath it; ‘Not Affiliated with Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo.’

“Oh. Got it.”

While the outside may lack the flair and panache that attracts the usual tourist crowds the inside is a whole other looking glass. Probably looks the way it does to differentiate between those who want fake dolls to poke with pins and those who want a real hex to mess with.

God, he’s talking about real hexes. When had this become his life?

Together they weave through the cluttered mess of uneven shelves and their uneven products. Books stacked flat where they’d fallen over at some point and left that way with little concern. A bundle of glass-looking orbs balancing precariously without cradle to keep them from rolling off the edge. A plant hanger in the middle of the room holds a pile of sage sticks just there. At second glance some look a little used.

The back ‘counter’ isn’t even that. It’s a folding table with a frayed tablecloth unevenly distributed atop and an old and rusting register in the corner.

First Taylor sees the joint resting in an ash tray made out of a mason jar lid. Only when it’s picked up and placed between two pink lips does he realize the man sitting kiddie-corner to the till.

“Welcome, wayward souls, to another side of the witch you know,” he recites as if from a script; monotone — doing everything he can to dissuade those who might darken his doorstep, “everything you see is one hundred percent bona fide authentic to the craft. Don’t do the rhyme if you can’t do the wiccan time.”

Ryder stops abruptly. Arms folded and a raised eyebrow looking over the pile of scattered tarot cards strewn across the table. That which holds the proprietor’s attention more than customers.

Unbidden he reaches out and plucks a card at random. Turns it over to stare at glittering golden words ‘The Emperor’ upside-down.

There’s no way the shop owner should know what card was grabbed — not like he can see though the matte black backing — but he gives a low and throaty chuckle. Lets smoke billow in a thin stream around the same lips now curled in a smirk.

“You always picked predictably, Ryder.”

Ryder who frisbees the card back onto the table carelessly. “I’m not still unconvinced you don’t set me up every time, Luc.”

“For all the shit you see…”

“I’ll always be skeptical of some damn cards, yeah. What else is new?”

“Good question.”

Luc finally drags his gaze up and away from his reading. Gives Ryder an easy and lazy smile that might possibly be the friendliest greeting to the Nighthunter Taylor’s seen so far. Had he not joined Ivy in teasing Krom only a short while ago he might have run himself ragged trying to understand the electric connection he’s witness to.

There’s definitely a history here.

Ryder sighs; knows Luc isn’t going to answer him until he answers himself. “The usual, man. Another day another job. Not much changes for me.”

“That’s not what I hear. In fact — I hear quite the opposite.”

“Sure those aren’t just voices from a bad trip?”

Luc laughs and kicks himself up to balance on the back two legs of his chair. Teeters dangerously close to falling backwards. “Could be, brother, could be. But I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout the spiritual radio this time. Everyone who’s anyone heard tell of a gutsy break-in among the city’s most elite. And all the chaos that followed.”

Ryder’s teeth grind together; his brow gives an almost imperceptible twitch.

“What did I tell you about listenin’ to the rumor mill, Luc?”

“Are they wrong?”

Not giving an answer is answer enough. Makes Luc give a haughty grin so wide Taylor likens him to a shark.

“I said what I said; another day, another job. It got me a rare ingredient I needed. I figured I could get the rest from your sorry ass if I could get you to look away from that damn deck long enough to ring me up.”

Luc makes everything look easy; from getting on Ryder’s bad side to letting his chair fall forward so he can stand. Like he’s not moving through air and gravity but dancing through deep watery depths.

But there’s a defensive edge to his voice — the first emotion beyond amusement — as he starts to gather up his cards.

“I’ll have you know I’m fond of this deck in particular. They were given to me as an apology from someone who never apologizes.”

“Oh yeah, what for?” Judging by Ryder’s tone, though, he already knows.

Still he lets Luc’s bright hazel eyes bore into his soul.

“Skippin’ out come dawn without so much as an adieu.”

Taylor laughs because, well, it’s funny? Only to quickly realize it’s not the right thing to be doing when he catches the strange look Ryder throws back at him; halfway and in profile — like he stops himself before he can make it a whole confrontation.

The teasing’s gone, now. “Yeah — listen, any chance I still have that standing credit here? I need frog warts and a few other things for a protection spell.”

“Ain’t like you to run around on an empty wallet.”

“Yeah, well… this job ain’t just another.”

And as ‘Another Job’ Taylor kind of takes offense to it.

Luc jerks his head towards a doorway shrouded with a curtain of thick wooden beads and the occasional bird feather. “You know where the stores are, cher. Just consider ya’self lucky Mardi Gras is a prosperous time for us all.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Luca. And if it makes you feel better the life you’re savin’ ain’t even mine.”

Taylor’s a step behind his heels when Ryder turns and keeps him at bay with a palm to his chest. His heartbeat stutters; spandex yielding to the firm press, but Ryder says nothing of it.

“Stay up here.”

Taylor scoffs. “Why? I’m not going to accidentally cast a spell or anything.”

“Maybe not, but the last thing I need is you gettin’ clumsy on the wrong object and fuckin’ us both even deeper.”

While he fumbles for a retort worthy of the witty comeback, though, Ryder makes his escape. Calls back; “don’t touch anything, don’t look at anything — and don’t let him suck you up in that damn deck!” before he’s gone in a clatter of beads.

They both know he’s not going to listen — he only says it so he can tell Taylor off when something inevitably happens. That seems to be how they function. Not that he plans on flailing his arms and messing with the first thing he hits, but…

“Since you ain’t dead I’m gonna assume Ryder’s not takin’ on the role’a teacher of the nighthunting arts.”

Snaps Taylor’s attention back to Luc; back in his chair and shuffling the deck in long and ring-adorned fingers.

“No.”

“Good. You might just stay alive then.”

“Apparently that’s a hard thing to do so, sure.”

Luc gestures to the chair across from him. It’s an offer, not a demand, but out of spite for Ryder’s twenty different moods — follow me, don’t follow me, around and around again — he takes it up. Watches Luc shuffle and reshuffle with naught but the soft collision of the cards as music.

When he realizes Ryder’s going to take his time, he figures the best way to start might be an introduction.

“I’m —”

“Pick a few cards for me, Taylor.”

He hadn’t even realized the man had started a spread; each card turned down and black as the void in a soft arc reaching out to him across the table.

Luc is courteous enough not to blow smoke in his face. Sits back slightly hunched and letting his focus flicker between Taylor and the cards. Like both are equally likely to speak to him in the silence.

“It’s probably useless asking how you knew my name, huh?”

“Smart boy. Sometimes they whisper an’ sometimes they scream, but I gotta say it’s been a good long while since I heard the cards call out the way they do to you, Taylor Hunter.

“So help me out here. Pick a few and let them show us why they’re so damn chatty.”

He wants to point out that the only chatty one around is Luca himself, but again that’s one of those useless things he’s finally starting to come to terms with. Knows another useless thing would be to ask why he can’t hear anything… but that’s because hearing is the only word he can think to describe it too.

They’re cards — just plain tarot cards. But like inky tendrils they’re reaching out to him across the table on another plane of reality. One where they have soft black fingers that wrap around his wrists and bring his hands to hover over them. Like safety.

Ryder said… “Well, Ryder said…”

The look Luc gives him cuts him off. Yeah, that was a bit of a stretch, wasn’t it?

He points at random; watches Luc pull a card out without flipping it over. Keeps going until a curt nod cuts him off and nine rectangles of shadow form a square across from him.

“This ain’t your average reading,” that much being obvious by the reverent way the shopkeep looks down at his selection, “and I ain’t your average reader. You’re not from around here.”

“Are you asking?”

“No. But I figure that means you did what all newcomers do — got yourself one of those back room phony shows at the House of Voodoo.”

He wants to say he hasn’t only for how ashamed Luc’s tone makes him feel about it. But yeah — yeah he had. Doesn’t remember much about the event itself but knows somewhere buried in the clutter of his desk back at his place there’s a piece of paper from whatever the alleged ‘psychic’ had him ask.

Luc nods slowly. “Mmhm. Sometimes — ‘bout as oft’n as pigs fly — the cards they play don’t listen and give out an ounce of truth. Nothing life-changing, but a slip enough to tempt the handler into believing.

“You won’t get none’a that here. Whatever’s shown when I flip these babies around has been, is, or will be whether you know it or not. But they only tell as much of a tale as you’re ready to hear.”

The unasked question: are you ready to hear it? And Taylor isn’t sure he knows how to answer.

He knows a lot about himself; inside and out. Has lived through too much and shoved too much inside for too long not to. It’s something he’s proud of. A lot of people spend their lives with no understanding of their inner self but he’s never had that problem.

But there’s a difference between knowing it and seeing… whatever these cards might show him.

What if what he knows isn’t what they say?

Life would be easier if Ryder took that opportune moment to reappear and save him the trouble of having to make the choice.

But life isn’t easy.

He nods — but before Luc can flip over the first card he reaches out and stops him.

“I’m not, like, sealing a deal with a demon or something, am I?” Judging by the look he gets he really shouldn’t have asked.

“Do I look like a demon?”

“I don’t know what demons look like.” He knows it’s a lie but says it anyway; can think only of that skeletal face sneering at him under the moonlight.

Luckily it’s not enough to deter the shopkeep who just bats Taylor’s hand away. “Judgin’ by your ghostly pallor I’m gonna call your fib on that one. But if it eases ya mind; no. No deals here. I get as much outta this as you do.”

Well that’s okay then, isn’t it?

Luc flips the first card over and has himself a little laugh. And why wouldn’t he — The Fool isn’t just an apt card but an apt description.

Taylor’s humor is, however, short-lived. “Seriously?”

“You drew the card. Only one to blame is you.”

“So I’m gonna be even more of a joke in my future or something?”

Luc shakes his head; spreads his fingers as far as they’ll go as the shadow of his palm casts over the center card. “This ain’t your future, but your self. This is you, Mister Hunter.”

“A fool.”

“A man of innocence,” comes the quick correction, “and oftentimes a free spirit. You do your own thing; march to your own drum. Ev’ry Sally and Joe likes to laugh at the Fool but he’s got his eyes set on the horizon and that’s worth admirin’. So don’t sell him — or ya’self — short.”

Innocent — not quite. But the rest Taylor doesn’t disagree with. Seems he knows himself as well as he thought.

Luc’s painted nail traces along a jagged line on the image. “But see here; the Fool stands at the cliff’s edge. He’s a card so it ain’t in his nature to look anywhere but where he’s told but you’re not a card, are ya?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you lookin’ forward at the horizon or down into that abyss,” — he flips over another card before Taylor can answer — “or maybe you see the Tower on the other side.”

The Tower card is actually at the Fool’s back but he’s learned enough now not to question the metaphors.

“All that love for life might come at a cost. An’ hey — maybe it’s one you’re willin’ to pay. I don’t judge.”

No matter how hard he looks he knows he isn’t going to see the same thing as his reader. But… “I’m gonna need you to be a little less cryptic and a little more straightforward.”

“This ain’t science. Everything’s up for interpretation when the cards are involved.”

“Okay so interpret what exactly you mean by a cost. What cost?”

His rings drum on the plastic surface slowly before Luc clicks his tongue. “Looks to me like you’ve been through some shit lately. Life-changin’ shit — shit that skips right over dippin’ a toe into destiny and pushes you right in the deep end tied to an anchor — or ten.”

Finally Luc looks back up but his gaze is guarded; carefully and excellently so. He can’t get a thing out of just a look.

“I could have told you that.” He mutters a defensive reply. “A couple of days ago everything was fine and then my best friend’s in a coma, I find out the shit I’ve been hallucinating my whole life is real, and on top of it some big scary Ugly wants my skinny ass for a meal.”

“That explains our friend Ryder, then.” Luc almost seems to peek at the row’s last hidden card. When he turns the Eight of Cups over the hum he hums reminds Taylor of endless weeks of therapists and their noncommittal noises failing to cover the scratching of pen on paper. “And it’s all a helluva lot, I bet.”

It’s a bit hard to play off the full-body adjustment to hide his discomfort but Taylor likes to think he pulls it off pretty well.

“Understatement of the century.”

“Makes a world ‘a sense. You’ve tried gettin’ away from it.”

“Actually I haven’t really had the time.”

Only Luc disagrees; shakes his head curtly and offers the Cups to Taylor like it’s written on the surface in plain sight. “The cards ain’t just talkin’ ‘round the physical. Sometimes we do all the runnin’ in our minds and we don’t even know it. It could be as simple as connecting new things in ya life to old ones and convincing ya’self they’re the same; whether they are or not.”

Oh, there it is — on the surface and in plain sight. Struggling for Cal and Donny. Taking blame for what happened (not that he’d tell Cal, he’s got enough to feel bad over). Jumping down Krom’s throat about the theater company.

“Don’t beat ya’self up too bad,” continues Luc in a way that makes him freeze in the sudden fear that he can read thoughts as well as tarot cards, “a little escapism is good for the soul. The hard part’s when you gotta come back to reality an’ doin’ it without a fight.”

Taylor offers the card back and watches it settle home beside the Fool. The same Fool he’s now a little reluctant to identify with so quickly. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Got it — now cut the ramblin’; you’re talkin’ over the cards.”

Only hasn’t he been the one doing all the talking? Arguing won’t help but that little nugget of petulance persists.

This time Luc reveals three cards one after the other. Makes sure to let each one rest face-up before moving on. Letting them breathe. Letting them speak.

Strength. The Hermit. The Two of Swords. The first two facing Taylor this time as if in judgment. No; they haven’t drawn that card just yet.

He realizes he’s waiting on bated breath when his lungs start to burn and beg for fresh air. Why is he so quiet all of a sudden?

“Tell me more about those hallucinations ya mentioned, Taylor.”

That’s not where he was expecting that to go at all; catches him off guard. “Sorry?”

“Don’t be,” but the other man sounds distant; lost in his thoughts, “jus’ tell me. Said you been seein’ things ‘your whole life’ right?”

“Yeah. But I’d really rather not, uh, go into…” Wasn’t his life story down on the cards? It was hard enough explaining everything to Kristin — and they knew things about one another bound to secrecy by the sanctity of roommate-dom. So he tries to keep it all in the realm of the reading; “I mean I know what they are now. I was seeing glamours. Like through them — without a charm or spell or whatever. I dunno, Nik can explain it better.”

When Luc doesn’t give the same shocked jaw-drop the trio at the Shift had he entertains the brief hope that the same talent runs through the psychic’s veins. But that’s dashed when he catches sight of the unconscious way Luc grabs onto one of the numerous stone pendants draped over his neck — the way he thumbs over the polished surface and tugs on the leather cord.

It’s not the same one Ryder has but pretty damn close; close enough to assume his glamour-charm used to have a home in this very shop.

“That kind-a inner sight’s awful rare.” He practically mumbles.

“Yeah, it’s been mentioned.”

“Not unheard of, mind you. Not in things that ain’t entirely mortal by blood and bone. When you draw Strength in reverse it’s not the opposite like you’d think; it ain’t sayin’ you lack strength.

“Think of it more like the meanin’ is just turned about. Upright’s outside and the other is inside.”

“So it’s inner strength.” He can get behind that.

“Or lack of it.”

I’m fucking sorry? “Who—what-now?”

“This row,” he gestures a little too grandly for the subject matter, “is your past, present, and future. I told you the cards were screamin’ — and they still are — but not this one,” — not Strength — “this’un’s more of a whisper. And it makes sense given that you called ‘em ‘hallucinations.’”

“And an explanation for us ‘card’-of-hearing?”

Luc bites his tongue — really and without metaphor; wince and all. Grabs a stray bit of crumpled receipt from god-knows when his last sale was and scribbles on it in blocky letters.

“‘Note to self,’” he enunciates his writing harshly, “‘add sign to shop: ‘Owner Has the Right to Refuse Service on Account of Shitty Fucking Puns.’”

The glare that follows tells Taylor it won’t be long before that sign has his name added to avoid confusion.

No regrets. None at all.

Puns aside, though? The level eye he gets across the cards takes a turn for the serious.

“I think it tells me a lot more than you’re ready to share. About ya life before this; about the things you done to make the pain go away. Some of us may be human but that don’t mean we ain’t still animals. And animals lash out when they’re scared.”

He’s right. It’s a lot more than Taylor’s ready to share. Makes him want to scramble the deck — flip the table on its end. And maybe the old version of him, the version in those cards, might have.

In his silence Luc gets the answer — “moving on…” he almost sing-songs — lets his fingertips dance on the card showing the present: the Hermit.

Which Taylor tries not to take personally. Who is there to be angry at other than himself?

“So since that one’s reversed too that means… what, that I’m a hermit on the inside?”

“I can see how you’d think that,” laughs Luc, “but not quite. How about we let the professional do his profession?”

Taylor gestures. The professional carries on. “It ain’t easy comin’ into this life so late. ‘Specially when you end up seein’ all the bad before a lick’a good comes your way. But you’re drownin’ in it — that’s what the Hermit’s tellin’ us. No time to ruminate?”

He scoffs. “Something like that.”

“Well make time. Lest it all starts crashin’ down and you get the proverbial water in ya lungs.”

“It’s not by choice. There’s things after me and —”

“And excuses ain’t gonna keep you afloat.” The man reaches over faster than Taylor can move back; actually flicks his forehead dead center.

“Ow!” He swats Luc’s hand away.

“It ain’t me sayin’ this, Hunter. It’s them,” he gestures to the cards, “and they know more about this world than either of us could learn in a hundred lifetimes. Take ya damn time and really work out how you feel. Else you won’t be able to face this here future with a clear head.”

Luckily Taylor doesn’t have to ask; isn’t certain he’d be able to as he looks at the Two of Swords card and feels sweat start to bead at his temples.

Playing with tarot cards is all fun and games when you don’t believe. Even when you do — a measure of healthy skepticism is good for the soul. But with everything he’s seen; been told?

Who would willingly ask for their future foretold after that?

“I think we can skip to the next cards.”

“Oho, this don’t work like that.”

“Why,” doing his best to keep his voice level, “it’s my reading, right? I don’t want to know.”

“Sucks to be you, then. You draw; you listen. That’s how all true readin’s go.” Luc leans back on the creaky chair and lets the Swords card flip and twirl between his fingers.

He could make it easy on them both; stop arguing and just get up and leave the reading unfinished. Find Ryder in the back and apologize for doing what he said not to do — again — and book it out of there right quick.

But he doesn’t.

“Now I get why Nik said not to do this.”

“Ha — well, hindsight ain’t much use in a house of foresight baby. So listen; an’ listen well.

“In proper tarot some cards are real close in meanin’. That’s where the spread comes in — the order, the intent; not to mention the cards all ‘round it. The Swords in your future point to some hard fuckin’ choices. And if ya keep on the path ya’re on you won’t be makin’ ‘em with all your marbles.

“I ain’t talkin’ about decisions that can be made for you, neither. When it comes down to it you’re likely to find ya’self alone — not only in the act a’ choosin’ but in dealin’ with the consequences.”

“So what kind of choices? What do the cards scream about that?”

“They don’t —” he tosses the card back down and it’s probably not a coincidence that it slides magically askew back in the reading’s place, “— on account of all the changes between now and when that time comes.

“The cards give truths where mortals lie; hope where the world pushes despair. But at the end’a everythin’ they’re just cards — bound by the same circumstances as you or I.”

It’s probably meant to be poignant; something that might be sold on a re-purposed wooden palette hand-painted and polished. In a shop similar to this — right between the mismatched crystal balls and Ryder’s coveted frog warts.

But all Taylor can think is; “Well that’s absolutely useless to me beyond freaking me out.”

Luc gives another one of his gap-toothed grins — “C’est la vie, mon petit,” — and doesn’t wait for permission or argument to reveal another card.

“If it makes ya feel any better —”

“Doubtful at this point.”

“— Fair. But they won’t leave ya hangin’. Unless the Hanged Man is drawn, a’course. Naw, rest easy knowin’ you won’t be goin’ the journey alone.”

He frowns; confused. “But you just said —”

“Hush. All the best journeys are made with friends. Though I… I ain’t sure I’d call the Nine a’Wands a friend…”

Curiosity replaced by twists and turns of his bewildered head; Luc bites down on his thumb nail and scrutinizes the seventh draw. “In fact, I’d call whomever this bad draw represents —”

“Ryder!”

The Nighthunter emerges in a wave of beads carrying a pearly sphere the size of his head tucked in the crook of his arm. At the same time Taylor jumps — a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar — and swears when his knee bangs under the table.

Luc doesn’t notice — or doesn’t care; still fixated on the black-and-gold design in front of him. Mutters “could be him, but…” under his breath so low that no one catches it.

Taylor fumbles for an explanation — which is a pretty stupid move seeing as he was ready to just come clean only a minute ago — but doesn’t get the chance. Though he would like to state that it probably would have been an extremely convincing and well-versed one had Ryder not just held up a hand and rolled his eyes.

“I figured you’d ignore me. Already took out my anger with a mortar and pestle in the back.”

Well he’s a little offended now. “I wasn’t blatantly disobeying you or anything,” then; “I’m a grown adult and can make my own choices.”

And doesn’t that karma come around to bite him in the ass pretty damn fast. He makes a great effort not to look at what is no doubt a haughty look of ‘I told you so.’

“Yeah yeah, cry me a river.”

He props the sphere on a large cushion nearby to keep it from rolling and drags the last free seat over into Taylor’s personal bubble. Already looking at the spread like he, too, can hear these alleged screams from the deck. “So, Luc? Any tell on whether or not I’m gonna get paid for this gig?”

“Wha — hey!”

Taylor knows he doesn’t hit Nik’s arm that hard but the offended look he gets back is more than enough.

“Ouch. That hurt.”

“If that hurt I need a new bodyguard.”

“Don’t tempt me to pawn you off.”

“Please do.”

A tinny click draws their focus away from each other and to Luc’s newly lighted blunt. No longer puzzled by the cards — his eyes are brighter; they shine with understanding.

“Nevermind. I get it, now.”

“Get what?” barks Nik a little too defensively.

“Didn’ I jus’ tell ya not to mind it?”

Taylor cuts Nik off before he can continue arguing. They’ve been here too long already. “If we can’t leave until this is finished — can you finish?”

Two cards remain to be revealed. The fortune teller takes his sweet time with a few puffs before agreeing, if reluctantly. Maybe he just doesn’t like an audience?

All sense of the mysterium is gone. Luc flips the cards one at a time with one hand while sucking in his joint with the other.

The Five of Swords. The Wheel of Fortune.

It’s totally the secondhand high that makes the golden wheel glitter and seem to turn before their eyes. Totally.

He braces himself for another round of cryptic semi-explanations. Only they don’t come. Luc’s eyelids droop heavy — almost closed. And judging by Nik’s frown that’s not a normal part of the reading.

“Luca? Hey —” — he snaps in front of the man’s face — “— Laveau!”

He doesn’t quite jerk out of his momentary trance; eyelids flutter as if awakening from a dream.

“Maybe you had a point, Hunter,” after a throaty cough, “maybe it’s best this go unfinished.”

“What seriously? After all that earlier shit?” He balks. Beside him Ryder grabs the Swords and looks it over back to front.

“You’ve never left a reading hanging. What gives?”

“He’s still new to the life. I think he’s had enough bad news for today.”

Taylor practically snatches the card from Nik. But it seems just as reluctant to give up its secrets to him, too. Makes him toss it back down in frustration.

“Just tell me,” even he can’t believe what he’s saying, “since I dunno if it’s worse to know or to guess.”

“Trust me. The worst one’s knowin’.”

“I’ll take that as you’ve never encountered crippling anxiety, then.”

In rare sympathetic form Ryder reaches out and rests a hand on Luc’s exposed forearm. They aren’t hiding behind quips or dancing words any longer; you could see the remnants of intimacy between them from space.

“Luc — come on. For my sake, too.”

The doubt doesn’t ease off from the fortune teller’s brow. In fact it looks deeper than ever before. Finally he yields. “All right — but don’t blame me or the cards. We’re jus’ messengers after all.”

No longer in need of a familiar touch Luc shakes the hand off. Mutters something unintelligible under his breath and takes another few puffs to calm himself down before he covers the Five of Swords like he can’t do the reading while looking at it.

“There’s more than difficult choices ahead for you — and for those what end up around you. A fight looms —” he turns the Swords card on its back atop the revealed Wheel of Fortune, “— on a bigger horizon than that’a the Vieux Carre. Might even be one bigger than this world of ours.

“Not so much a fight as a battle; a war. Turnin’ and churnin’ at the banks of the river and out into the ocean. Ready to flood the whole damn city — every corner of the earth. And it’ll keep ragin’ and screamin’ with every body what falls to it.”

Ryder goes still as stone beside him. Taylor finds himself revisiting the notion of it being better not knowing.

“What does any of that have to do with me?”

“You, Mister Hunter — you’re smack dab in the middle of it. More’n that… you belong there.”

Apologies. Sympathy. Condolences. Luc can’t seem to settle on one way to look at Taylor so instead he just focuses on packing his deck back up. He isn’t as careful this time around — like he’s angry at the cards and what they had to say; to scream. Two separate entities working off of one another but, at the very least, both unhappy with the outcome.

“I’ll get a box for that crystal ball — the warts are yours but I’ll need interest on that relic.” He can’t get away from the pair fast enough. Shuffles the tarot deck in his hands as he goes.

He wants to be surprised that Nik doesn’t follow; doesn’t go to check on someone he obviously has a past and present connection with. But in the goody bag of his emotions he just keeps pulling out resignation — even when he cheats and peeks inside.

That’s all there is. All he can feel.

Where’s that opportunity for escapism the cards had mentioned earlier? He could use a bit of that at the moment.

Doesn’t know when exactly Nik started trying to comfort him; hand on his upper back, the gentle back-and-forth of his thumb. Taylor’s not a big fan of touch but that seems to be how Ryder connects to the world; through the physical.

And oddly it’s working. The comfort thing.

“You okay?”

He’ll sass such a ridiculous question later. “Uh, honestly I don’t really know what I am right now.”

Ryder’s face is unusually close when Taylor looks his way. The barest flicker — a crack in the bravado. Nik is worried for him.

“That can happen after Luc’s readings. You think I warned ya away to keep you from somethin’ fun? Knowin’ his connection with the spirit world makes it all really…”

He struggles for the right word. Weird, coming from him.

“‘Real?’” offers Taylor, and gets him a nod.

“Yeah, really real.”

Noises of shuffled boxes and Luc’s grunts draw them out of Taylor’s personal space and back to the world around them. Up near the back curtain Luc gently eases the crystal ball into a wooden box.

“So, question.”

“Yeah Rook?”

“What do we do now?” Because if turning tail and running like a shameless coward away from this war is an option, he’s taking it.

“We keep on going,” Nik answers, “We get back to the Shift and finish up this blasted protection spell and then we dive into findin’ your attacker and punch a bunch’a holy light holes in it’s ugly-ass face.”

This time when he reaches into the bag of emotions, luck gives him a break and lets him pull out the barest ghost of a smile.

“Man, it is ugly. Like — fugly ugly.”

Ryder’s smile is just as small — but no less sincere — than his.

“It damn sure is.”

#nightbound #nik ryder x mc #nik ryder #playchoices #choices fanfiction #cal lowell #garrus #krom #ivy #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #oblv: bound by circumstance #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

[jinkisbelly]

Kiss Drabbles : Jongyu

Alright, so there was this like prompt post thing about kisses and I started these back in January, like.. one a day or something and while I failed at that, these are the Jongyu ones I have done. There will be an Onkey, Ontae and Onho post once I’m done with those lol Each is separate au but will have ratings and w/c and warnings. 

Overall: 2.6k, rating from like pg to pg13 post coitus/makeout session.  There are six in total.

Hot, Steamy Kiss (pg-13, w/c 365 idk warning alcohal)

Jonghyun had to admit that making out with an almost stranger in a classmates’ pantry felt very 7th grade playing seven minutes in heaven. The way the other boy was kissing him was a lot MORE than the nervous teeth clacking he remembered 7th-grade kissing experience consisted of. Besides, with the warm tingly sensation of the few rum and cokes he had in his system and how cute his making out partner was, he couldn’t find a real reason to complain. The boy’s name was on the tip of his tongue. Coincidently so was the boy’s tongue as he pressed forward.

Kibum’s parents had gone to France or maybe Italy. Jonghyun couldn’t recall with how his ass was being palmed firmly. Something uncomfortable was poking into his back, but then the boy grunted roughly when his hair was pulled and the object was forgotten for the time being. The boy pulled away, just long enough to pull Jonghyun’s bottom lip between his teeth, before he was lifting Jonghyun up against the pantry’s build in shelves. There was the taste of beer on his lips that he hadn’t drunk himself.

Jinki! That was his name. The boy from that Women’s History class he took last semester to fulfill his upper history requirement for graduation. He wrapped his legs loosely around Jinki’s hips, pushing his fingers into his long hair that was falling slowly from the messy bun he had in it. As he tightened his fingers very roughly, Jinki growled and it made his toes curl in his boots. How much time had even passed n- Oh sweet baby Jesus that had to be illegal.

Then he felt the rush of air, heard the full volume of the party as the door was pulled open, but their kissing didn’t stop. His tongue was halfway in Jinki’s mouth probably when Kibum finally whistled loudly and they both rushed apart, flushed.

It was sometime later that Jinki pressed a napkin into his palm with a charming smile. “If you want more than just seven minutes in heaven, beautiful.”

He was gone by the time Jonghyun looked down to figure out it was his phone number.

Underwater Kiss ( Pg, w/c 484, happens before both parts of Atlantis Au, a  month before Jonghyun meets Taemin)

Jinki’s hands were warm pressed against him as he held him tightly. The bracelet on the Atlantian’s wrist blocked out the coolness of the deeper water of the lagoon and allowed them to not worry about needing air to breathe. Jinki grinned brightly, the warm sunlight filtering through the blue water reaching them dimly. He looked up for a moment and Jonghyun pressed his face into his neck as he swam toward the surface, one arm held tightly around Jonghyun’s waist. As they broke the surface Jonghyun pushed bits of Jinki’s hair from his face, smiling fondly as Jinki’s face scrunched rather cutely with the brightness of the sun fully hitting him now. “The warmth of that great ball of fire doesn’t negate the unnecessity of the brightness.”

“Are you being a grumpy old man again?”

The frown on Jinki’s face deepened. “I apologize for not being from this century.”

“You kiss well for someone that’s over a thousand years old.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Jonghyun giggled as Jinki dipped to kiss at his neck, before growing gloom. “I wish I could return with you once again.”

“As do I,” Jinki’s voice was slightly muffled with how close he was pressing his face into him. “But there’s only a few more months of my time before you will be down there with me forever.”

“Oh Jinki,” He breathed out quickly. When Jinki rose his gaze again, he was kissed rather roughly, “I love you so much. I’m so lucky to have met you, to be invited into your world. You know I appreciate everything you’ve ever risked for me... For us.”

“I’d give you the entire world Jonghyun. You must know that.”

Before Jonghyun could respond, the church bells over the crest of the hill in the distance chimed, signaling it is six. “I must go, Baby.”

“I will be thinking of you until the next time I can have you within my arms once again, my love.” Jinki pressed one more gentle kiss to his lips before smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Jinki watched as he swam to the shore and up the dirt path to the grass-covered hill at the top. Jonghyun smiled so beautifully as he looked back and waved, the wind blowing softly through his hair, the sun for once using it’s light for something of a wonder as fell across his pretty features. It was only when he was out of sight Jinki lowered into the water. He would take every moment he had to take him in, for he wasn’t sure how long it would be until he saw him again.

As he twisted through the hole at the bottom of the lagoon that led to the greater ocean, he smiled remembering not too long in the future he would be taking the final trip down to his home with the love of his life.

Jawline Kiss (Pg, w/c 367, happens after this old au [x] but before [x] again all you really need to know is Jinki is an Elf, Jjong human (both princes) and their races/cultures are at war with each other(brief mention of.. death?)

Jonghyun had seen Jinki take out half a regiment of men by himself. His hands an instrument of death and destruction if he willed them to be, but as they moved over his waist and down his hips, pulling him back, he couldn’t view them as such. He was so soft, almost delicate,as if he was afraid he would break him if he touched too hard. For the time being that was. Jinki tugged him back against him, holding him close with his arms around his waist and his chin on Jonghyun’s shoulder. He managed to kiss his neck and then his jaw. “I woke up and you were gone from the cot. I grew worried.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Save me.”

Jinki smiled a little, an amused tilt in his voice as he asked, “Which time?”

“The first. Against your people.”

Silence fell between them for some time before Jonghyun twisted in the hold to look up at him. Jinki’s eyes were quick to lock with his own, “Is the reason not obvious enough?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it was.”

“It’s the same reason as all the other times.” Jinki cupped his cheek, still holding him close with the other arm. “Because I love you. And my kind only falls in love once. I couldn’t… choose anything over you. I won’t.”

“You only fall in love once?”

“I have been with many people in my life, but I’ve never been able to fall in love with any of them.” Jinki pressed soft kisses up his jaw until his lips were brushing the curve of his ear. “Until you, Stardust.”

“I never knew.”

“There’s much about me you have yet to learn.” Jinki smiled, “Now, come back to bed. We have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow.”

As he curved against Jinki’s side, walking back to their tent a short ways away, Jonghyun commented, “You almost sound excited to meet my Father.”

“Oh, not excited.” Jinki hummed. “Just… intrigued.”

“Scared?”

Jinki scuffed as he held the flap open for him, letting him slip through. ‘I’m not scared of any human. Except you, when you’re pissed at me.”

Jonghyun snorted. “Good boy.”

Kiss in the Rain ( pg, w/c 340, set during the epilogue of Bring Us Home AU if you go to read the main fic just know theres a lot of PTSD stuff involved)

They managed to get off the rowboat they rented and made a mad dash to the boathouse to hide from the rain, but more people were gathering in the limited space. Jinki grabbed his wrist, stopping him from continuing. He smile widely as Jonghyun looked back at him as they stood in the middle of the downpour. “What are you doing?”

“We’re already soaked.” Jinki giggled and Jonghyun paused for a moment, startled before he softened at the beauty of Jinki’s glee. “What’s a little more rain?”

“We’ll get sick.” Jonghyun frowned, pushing his hair from his face with his free hand. Then he sighed, avoiding Jinki’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I had this entire day planned for weeks and I just-” He looked at the ground, at the puddle of mud beginning to accumulate around their feet in the edge of the grass. “I forgot to check the weather and our date… it’s ruined, Babe.”

“As long as I am with you, nothing is ruined,” Jinki said as quietly as he could after stepping close so his lips were against Jonghyun’s ear.

In a blink of an eye, Jonghyun was clinging to him, pressing his nose into his neck, “I just wanted to give you something back that was the same. I wanted you to not worry about anything just for one afternoon.”

Dazed, it took Jinki a moment to understand what he meant, but once it dawned on him, he swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Hey, hey come on look at me.” Once Jonghyun had, Jinki took his face between his hands, thumbs moving on his cheeks. “Oh, you sweet little man.” And then he was pressing their lips together, shifting until his arms were tight around Jonghyun’s thin waist. The rain was a bit cold and the way their clothes were plastered to their skin felt uncomfortable, but the kisses were warm and familiar, comforting, and it stopped Jinki from getting too emotional over how much he felt Jonghyun’s love for him.

Stomach Kiss (Pg, w/c 712, Set between [x] and [x]  Where Jjongs trans, Jinki’s nonbinary and they’re expecting. This is their I want to raise the baby discussion around month 4 and a half. Warning for conversation mentioning abortion, body dysphoria if that bothers or makes you uncomfy.)

“Hey, Sweetums?” Jonghyun slowly looked up from his stomach where his fingers were gently moving over the taut skin to find Jinki across the way bent over their history paper due the following week. There was a soft, uncommitted hum, and Jonghyun frowned. “Jinki.”

Slowly, they put their pencil down and twisted, a soft, yet tired smile on their face. “Yes, Baby boy?”

“Can we talk?”

Jinki looked back at their spread of textbooks and their laptop and then again at Jonghyun before they had their back toward him for a moment. Then they were standing and turning the desk light off, climbing over the bed until they were hovering a little over him. Jinki smiled sweetly, playing with a curl of Jonghyun’s hair as they softly asked, “Is something bothering you?”

“Have you thought about…” Jonghyun’s eyes fluttered a little as he took a deep breath, moving his left hand to gesture in the general area of his stomach.

“What I want to do after?” Jonghyun could only manage a small nod. Jinki hummed quietly, before resting gently beside him. They reached over and intertwined their fingers with Jonghyun’s left hand, smiling, “I have a bit actually. Is that what you want to talk about?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to go first?” Jonghyun shook his head quickly, and Jinki was quick to squeeze his hand. “Alright, I’ll go.” They flashed a quick smile, meant to be reassuring, before speaking again. Their eyes flicked to Jonghyun’s ever-growing belly before hesitantly placing their hand flat upon it, moving their thumb across the bare skin. “When you told me you were pregnant the first thought through my head was we should end it. My feelings about having children didn’t really matter at that moment. You and your body’s integrity did. However, now, I…”

As their voice trailed off Jonghyun picked up, guessing how Jinki had meant to finish it. “You want to keep them, don’t you sweetums?”

“I love them, Jonghyun.” Jinki had such a beautiful expression on their face. All soft, fond eyes, just a hint of a smile on their lips as they gazed upon the growing child they both made. “They’re made of little parts of each of us, the best parts. The beautiful parts that I haven’t tarnished. If you didn’t want… don’t want to keep them, I’ll understand. At least in time.” Then their head lifted to look at Jonghyun. “I don’t want my thoughts and desires to cloud your feelings and ultimate stance on this. We both have to agree wholeheartedly.”

“This entire experience feels… unlike me.” Jonghyun squeezed his eyes shut, letting his head fall back against the headboard of their bed. “I never wanted to experience pregnancy. I never wanted to have my body doing something viewed so feminine and womanly.”

“I know, Baby.”

“But I’ve always wanted children and I’ve seen myself raising children with you for a very long time. I just thought it would be through adoption.” Jonghyun pressed his lips together in a thin line before he opened his eyes to find Jinki’s looking at him. Wide, nervous, but vulnerable. Everything about them was open and understanding and it made Jonghyun want to cry. “What I’m saying Jinki, is that through everything I’m so happy it was you this happened with. I don’t think I could get through it with anyone else. I don’t want to raise a child with anyone else.”

Jinki bit into their lower lip to stop the damn thing from trembling too much, as if they tears threatening to spill over their lashes wasn’t going to give them away. “You want to raise this baby with me?”

Jonghyun squeezed Jinki’s thigh, “I do Sweetums. I want to keep them. They’re ours.”

In very quick moments, Jinki was pressing soft kisses all over Jonghyun’s face. Jonghyun giggled quietly as they did so. Then they pressed a long kiss to his stomach, smiling from ear to ear. “Your Za can’t wait to meet you.”

“Za, huh?”

Jinki’s cheeks were such a pretty shade of pink in the light from the lamp on the table. “I looked up gender-neutral parent names. Just in case.”

“You’re so fucking cute, Sweetums.”

“Shh, language~” Jonghyun snorted as Jinki giggled at their joke.

Chest Kiss (pg-13 because they nakey and post coitus. w/c 344. Star wars au, but after every part, I’ve posted so UH, here’s the tag if you’re interested)  

They should be getting up soon to clean up. Both had a Council meeting to attend once they landed on Coruscant, but with the clock flashing on the wall that they had another hour before they dropped out of hyperspace, they figured they could relish in the small moments after making love most of the time they aren’t given the luxury of having. The blanket was behind him, pushed back when he had climbed into Jinki’s lap. The man’s braids were becoming frizzy and coming undone in parts, and Jonghyun made a mental note to redo it for him before they landed. Content in the warmth and presence of the other in the force, Jonghyun ran his fingers over Jinki’s chest softly but stopped as he felt the raised skin of a rather large scar across his pectorals. “How did you get this one?”

“A nasty encounter with spice smugglers a few years back.”

“Oh, that’s right.” He looked up and gave him a sweet kiss. “I do wish you were more careful. I see you more in the Halls of healing than I do alone outside in the Temple.”

“Ever thought I might keep going just to see you?” Jinki grinned, and Jonghyun deemed it illegal across the entire galaxy to look that good post-coitus. “Besides, we just had a two-month long negotiation between the rebels and the Senator on Ryloth. Doesn’t that count?”

“Telling the Senator I did not wish to be pleased with a woman ‘gifted’ to me for the night nine different times was not what I meant by spending time with you.”

“Mm, you’re right. I apologize.” Jinki tilted his head to the left, puzzlement on his expression.

“What?”

“How come the force allowed you to be so beautiful, dear one?”

Jonghyun swatted at his chest from where his hand had still been resting, “Oh do shut up.”

“Ow, that hurt.”

With a sigh, Jonghyun leaned down slightly to press a few soft kisses against Jinki’s chest. “Does that make it better, Love?”

“Quite so, Master Jedi.”  

#jongyu #onjong #jonghyun #onew #shinee #god I have a lot of au tags to remember #UH #star wars au #bring us home au #atlantis au #Idk if I remember the tag for the elf one #well shit #anyway #first one we will tag #7 minutes in heaven au

[wanderingmultitudes]

Femme Sharks, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

FEMME SHARKS DON’T EAT OUR OWN.

FEMME SHARKS LIKE TO EAT THOUGH

FEMME SHARKS RECOGNIZE THAT FEMMES COME IN ALL KINDS OF SIZES AND EACH KIND IS LUSCIOUS. WE WORK TOWARDS LOVING OUR CURVY, FAT, SKINNY, SUPERSIZE, THICK, DISABLED, BLACK AND BROWN FINE-ASS BODIES EVERY DAY. WE REALIZE THAT LOVING OURSELVES IN A RACIST/SEXIST/HOMO/TRANSPHOBIC/ABLIST/CLASSIST SYSTEM IS AN EVERY DAY ACT OF WAR AGAINST THAT SYSTEM.

FEMME SHARKS DON’T THINK ANOREXIA IS CUTE.

WE THINK EATING A BIG-ASS MEAL IS SEXY.

WE SAY SCREW “HEIGHT WEIGHT PROPORTIONATE PLEASE” IN CRAIGSLIST WOMEN SEEKING WOMEN ADS AND IN LIFE.

WE HAVE BIG MOUTHS AND WE KNOW HOW TO USE

THEM. DON’T FUCK WITH US! ASK US IF WE WANT TO FUCK THOUGH !

FEMME SHARKS WILL RECLAIM THE POWER AND DIGNITY OF FEMALENESS BY ANY MEANS NECCESARY.

WE’RE GIRLS BLOWN UP, TURNED INSIDE OUT AND REMIXED.

FEMME SHARKS ARE OVER WHITE QUEERS OBLIVIOUSNESS TO QUEER OF COLOR, TWO SPIRIT AND TRANS OF COLOR LIVES.

WE KNOW THAT WE ARE A CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE

WE’RE OVER WHITE FEMMES AND BUTCHES WHO THINK THAT FEMME ONLY COMES IN THE COLOR OF BARBIE.

WE’RE OVER BUTCHES AND BOYS AND OTHER FEMMES TELLING US WHAT WE NEED TO DO, WEAR OR BE IN ORDER TO BE “REALLY FEMME.”

FEMME SHARKS RECOGNIZE THAT FEMMES, BUTCHES, GENDERQUEER AND TRANS PEOPLE

HAVE BEEN IN COMMUNITIES OF COLOR SINCE FOREVER.

THAT BEFORE COLONIZATION WE WERE SEEN AS SACRED

AND WE WERE SOME OF THE FIRST FOLKS MOST VIOLENTLY ATTACKED

WHEN OUR LANDS WERE INVADED AND COLONIZED.

FEMME SHARKS WON’T REST UNTIL WE RECLAIM OUR POSITIONS

AS BELOVED FAMILY WITHIN OUR COMMUNITIES.

FEMME SHARKS AREN’T JUST DIMEPIECES AND TROPHY WIVES

FUCK THAT!

WE MIGHT BE YOUR GIRL,

BUT WE’RE OUR OWN FEMMES.

WE RECOGNIZE THAT FEMMES ARE LEADERS OF OUR COMMUNITIES.

WE HOLD IT DOWN, CALM YOUR TEARS, ORGANIZE THE RALLY, VISIT YOU IN JAIL, GET CHILDCARE HOOKED UP, LOAN YOU TWENTY DOLLARS.

FEMMES ARE WELDERS, AFTERSCHOOL TEACHERS, ABORTION CLINIC WORKERS, STRIPPERS, WRITERS, FACTORY WORKERS, MOMS, REVOLUTIONARIES DEDICATED TO TAKING THE SYSTEM THE HELL DOWN SO WE CAN BE FREE!

FEMMES ARE LEADERS IN TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS/ DEFENDING OUR QUEER AND TRANS OF COLOR COMMUNITIES.

WE USED OUR STILETTOS AS WEAPONS AT STONEWALL.

WE WERE THE TRANSWOMEN WHO FOUGHT BACK AT THE COMPTON

CAFETERIA

WE’RE THE GIRLS WHO STARE DOWN ASSHOLES STARING AT OUR LOVERS AND FRIENDS ON THE SUBWAY.

WE WALK EACH OTHER HOME

ACT CRAZY ON THE BUS TO GET ASSHOLES TO MOVE AWAY

AND KNOW HOW TO BREAK SOMEONE’S LEGS

WE SHARE WHAT WE KNOW.

FEMME SHARKS STAND UP FOR THE NEW JERSEY FOUR AND EVERY OTHER QUEER AND TRANS PERSON OF COLOR IN THE PRISON INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX FOR DEFENDING OUR LIVES.

WE BELIEVE IN SELF-DEFENSE AND SELF-DETIRMINATION.

WE BELIEVE THAT WE HAVE A RIGHT TO DEFEND OURSELVES AND OUR COMMUNITIES

AGAINST ANY KIND OF ATTACK-

FROM ASSHOLES ON THE STREET

TO RACIST WHITE CLUB OWNERS WHO WANT THREE PIECES OF ID

TO FOLKS WHO INSIST THAT WE’RE STRAIGHT.

TO PEOPLE WHO TAKE OUR LAND.

WE REMEMBER OUR DEAD- SAKIA GUNN, GWEN ARAUJO, AND MANY OTHER QUEER AND TRANS POC WHO DIED BECAUSE OF RACIST, HOMO/TRANSPHOBIC VIOLENCE

NOT AS A POLITICAL STATEMENT

BUT AS WOMEN WE LOVED IN REAL LIFE

WOMEN WHO COULD’VE BEEN US OR OUR LOVES.

WE ARE NOT GOING TO BE LEFT OUT OF “THE STRUGGLE.”

NOT THIS TIME.

WE’RE NOT JUST A PRETTY FACE.

FEMMES GODDAMN WELL KNOW HOW TO STRAP IT ON, CHANGE THE OIL IN THE CAR AND PUT UP SHELVES.

WE CAN DO ANY GODDAMN THING WE WANT!

THAT’S WHY WE’RE FEMME SHARKS!

FEMME IS NOT THE SAME THING AS BEING OUR MOMS

FEMMES ARE BEAUTIFUL AND STRONG WHEN WE BOTTOM

AND WE’RE HOT AS HELL WHEN WE TOP

OUR BOTTOMING AND TOPPPING ARE BOTH GIFTS TO BE MET WITH RESPECT.

WHEN WE TAKE OUR LOVERS FIST ALL THE WAY INSIDE

ASK FOR WHAT WE WANT

BE THE BEST DIRTY GIRL

OR MAKE OUR LOVERS FLIP

WE’RE A FUCKING MIRACLE.

IN THE WORDS OF JILL SCOTT, “YOU GOTTA DO RIGHT BY ME. IT’S MANDATORY, BABY.”

FEMME SHARKS SHOP AT ROSS, FOXY LADY, VALUE VILLAGE, THE HM $5 RACK, TORRID AND THE DOLLAR STORE , AND KNOW HOW TO SHOPLIFT

WE CONCOCT BRILLIANT STRATEGIES TO LOOK FINE

ON TEN DOLLARS OR LESS.

WE’RE ONLY “INVISIBLE” IF YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO LOOK FOR US.

WE TAKE CARE OF EACH OTHER

RECOGNIZE THAT FEMMES ARE EACH OTHERS’ WEALTH

HOS BEFORE BROS, ALWAYS!

FEMME SOLIDARITY AND LOVE FOR EACH OTHER

IS A REVOLUTIONARY FORCE

WE BELIEVE IN GIRLS LOVING GIRLS, RESPECTING EACH OTHER’S BRILLIANCE

NOT FIGHTING OVER BOIS OR BUTCHES

NOT TRYING TO BE THE ALPHA FEMME

WE’RE ANTI-DRAMA

BELIEVE IN THE POWER OF COMMUNITIES THAT HEAL HURT, APOLOGIZE, LISTEN TO EACH OTHER AND MAKE THINGS RIGHT.

WE BELIEVE IN BUILDING OUR QTPOC COMMUNITIES STRONG

FEMME SHARKS WERE THERE WHEN FRIDA KAHLO HOOKED UP WITH HER

GIRLFRIENDS

WHEN JOAN NESTLE, CHRYSTOS, JEWELLE GOMEZ, ALEXIS DE VEUX, SYLVIA RIVERA, DOROTHY ALLISON, MINNIE BRUCE PRATT AND AMBER HOLLIBAUGH MADE QUEER FEMME HISTORY

WHEN ZAPATISTA WOMEN HOOKED UP

WHEN OUR COUSINS WERE MAKING OUT IN THE WOMEN’S SECTION OF THE MASJID

WHEN OUR GRANDMAS AND QUEER AUNTIES SNUCK OUT AT NIGHT

DIDN’T GET MARRIED TIL LATE- OR AT ALL

HAS A BEST GIRLFRIEND

AND STOOD UP FOR HER

FEMME SHARKS WERE THERE.

FEMME SHARKS ARE IN THE BODIES OF COUNTLESS SEX WORKERS, NEIGHBORS AND LADIES WAITING FOR THE BUS AND IN THE LINEUP AT CENTURY 21.

AT RIIS BEACH, FUNKASIA, LOVERGIRL NYC, BUTTA, MANGO, MANHATTAN’S, DESILICIOUS, AND BIBI!

FEMME SHARKS LIVE ON THE REZ, IN CAPETOWN, NEWARK, OAKLAND!!!!!, THE SOUTH SIDE, NEW ORLEANS, COLOMBO, JUAREZ AND BROOKLYN SUBURBIA, THE FARM, AND LITTLE SMALL TOWNS.

WE’RE IN FOSTER CARE, THE PSYCH WARD, JUVIE, AND ABOUT TO BE EVICTED.

WE ARE SURVIVORS WHO ARE MORE THAN WHAT WE SURVIVED.

WE ARE FIGURING OUT HOW TO HEAL

AND HOW TO MAKE IT SO THAT NO ONE

WILL HAVE TO SURVIVE SEXUAL VIOLENCE EVER AGAIN.

WE BELIEVE IN THE TOTAL DESTRUCTION OF THE SYSTEM AS WE KNOW IT

TO MAKE SOMETHING MUCH MO BETTA

AND WE BELIEVE IN MAKING OUR OWN WAYS TO FIGHT AND RESIST

ON THE DAILY.

A FEMME SHARK IS ANY GIRL

WHO IS TOUGH, HUNGRY, FIGHTS FOR HERSELF AND HER FAM

AND IS WORKING ON BECOMCNG THE KIND OF GIRL

WHO FINDS GOD IN HERSELF

AND LOVES HER FIERCELY

WE’RE YOUR BEST GIRLFRIEND AND YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE

LOVE AND RAGE

THE FEMME SHARKS

FEMME SHARKS ARE ON PATROL!

JOIN THE MOVEMENT! SHARK SHARK IT UP!

http://brownstargirl.org/femme-shark-manifesto/

[asingularblueberry-blog]

Strike a Match, Burn it Bright

For @sheithreversebang I was partnered with the one and only @crystalpallette and lemme just say,,,, I could not have wished for a better partner. Her art is absolutely amazing. This was my first big bang, and really the first event that pushed me completely out of my comfort zone. I’m so proud of how this turned out, both my work and my partner’s. I hope you guys, gals, and nonbinary pals all enjoy!

Strike a Match, Burn it Bright

Pairing: Sheith, both are trans women!

Rating: Teen, no major AO3 archive warnings apply

Words: 12,675 (this was my first time ever writing something that long,,,)

Summary: Keith is just your (not-so) normal recluse getting by in her neighborhood, avoiding physical contact, that sort of thing. She practices magic in her spare time, works a part-time job at a convenience store, and sells charms to cover other expenses to mages throughout the city. It's not an ideal life, sure, but it's hers, and she's fine with it. Then something happens that shakes up her life- a new(very attractive)neighbor is in town, and she's got a big fat gay crush.

Keith swung open the door to her store. Well, it wasn’t her store, but it was about as close as it could be. She worked at the convenience store with two other friends of hers. However, seeing as they never seemed to be around at just the right time, she was more than happy to call the little store on the corner of Bloom and Hartford her own.

Tidying up in the store only took a few seconds. None of Keith’s customers were particularly rowdy, let alone destructive. As a result, her popularity grew. Not only for her reasonable prices and shy, mysterious aura, but more for her… more shady side of business. Keith was one of a many witches, wizards, and other magical persons in her small town. She sold charms, potions, and the likes to anyone with an interest and the time of day. Sure, it wasn’t the most profitable endeavor, but her clients were very pleased with her products and returned often.

Day to day life was slow and habitual for Keith. Wake up, eat breakfast, walk to the store, tidy up, open shop. Take customers, restock shelves, make magical goodies in the back, order more supplies for said goodies, sell things. Close shop, tidy up, keep record of sales and orders, walk home from the store, eat dinner, go to sleep. Typical, unchanging, but not boring. Never boring. Ever since she’d moved out, Keith’s life was seldom boring. Boredom was rarely on the list of things to do.

For example, there was the turf wars. For a month straight, two magical group faced off against one another over the tree in Melody Park, the place in town with the most magical energy. Of course, it was a terrifying thing altogether, but as she never gave them anything that would hurt more than an upset stomach, it was great for Keith’s new business. Another time, she had several clients come in asking for exactly the same love charm. As it turned out, they had no intention to do so, but all of them three of them fell in love with each other. It all worked out fine, and Keith had even more customers as a result.

But on this particular day, Keith was bored. No one had had the time to stop in and chat as they bought a morning cup of coffee. No curious patrons wandered in with stories to tell of the night before or questions about her magical wares. Boredom was Keith’s worst enemy. Sure, being away from people is all nice and good, but the boredom was even worse. Boredom meant that Keith had the time to do whatever her mind made her do. Whether it was to lonely wander her thoughtless plains, climb the mountains of memories, hike through the forest of her regrets, or dive deep below the surface of her subconscious into the deepest darkest secrets hidden in her mind, she had too much time.

The clanging of the door’s handmade bell interrupted her mindful stroll. She snapped to. A small girl walked carefully into the store, almost as if she was too scared to step. She nodded at Keith, who smiled in return. The girl searched the shelves like an explorer in a new land. Finally, she found a pastry and a pack of tissues. She anxiously walked towards the counter where Keith stood, leaned up against the cold, laminate countertops.

“Anything else?” Keith asked softly. The girl bit back her words and murmured under her breath for a moment before shaking her head.

“Are you sure, honey?” she persisted gently. The girl opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She instead pointed to Keith’s hand.

“That.”

Keith understood what she meant. She rolled up her sleeves and concentrated on her palm. A small flame sparked to life in her hand. The girl, now completely awestruck, stepped closer. Keith offered her hand towards the girl. Curiously, she put her finger out and moved it near the flame. She poked it delicately, watching it as the flame exploded into miniature fireworks that lit up all around the small shop. The girl giggled gleefully with pure delight.

The girl reached up to grab a spark. Keith watched as the flame glowed and grow just like it had done with her. She smiled and let a few memories wash over her.

The first time she lit a flame. It was her 8th birthday. Her dad had been working all week long just to make enough to surprise Keith. She had to make herself dinner and get ready in the morning and pack her lunch. But she knew it would all be worth it. The house was lonely after school. It was just Keith and whatever kind of critter would wander into their small home.

Of course she could always go hang out with her “friends”, but they didn’t really care. They didn’t accept her. The only one who did was her dad. And now he was gone. Sure, he’d be back in a few hours, but those were lonely, long hours. Keith crawled up and sat in her bay window and looked out slowly.

Her birthday was on Friday. That Friday had been total hell for Keith. In class, they had sang “Happy Birthday”, only to throw a big cupcake in her face and snap the elastic on her paper party hat against the back of her neck as she cried. Needless to say, she was ready to go home. Her father picked her up from school for the first time that week. Keith curled up in the back of the pickup truck and cried quietly, letting chocolate cake and salty tears roll down her cheeks.

When they got home, her father took her around the back of the house to a small field. He showed Keith a gigantic stack of hay and guided her hand towards it.

“You are a witch. Not a wizard, a witch. A pyromancer, at that. You are so special. And someday, you will be able to light this entire thing on fire without so much blinking your eyes or batting an eyelash. You are stronger than you could ever imagine,” he said confidently. He lead her back inside.

There was a cake on the table. Nine red candles. Keith felt overjoyed that he remembered that red was her favorite. Hopefully he remembered the strawberry cake too. Keith’s dad took a lighter and lit the first eight. The final one he left unlit.

“Go on. Light it, my little witch.”

Keith focused hard on the final candle. Her one to grow on. The most special one of all. She made her wish.

The candle burned bright. But it could never compare to the bright smile on her father’s face.

She refocused. The little girl held the fire for a few more seconds before closing her hand around the small flame. It extinguished.

“You are going to be a very powerful witch, I can tell you that,” Keith chuckled as she bagged the items for her. The girl as she paid for the pastry and tissues. She walked out of the store, beaming bright like the fire she had held.

Keith had her regular customers from that point on. A box of mac and cheese. A few requests for love charms, a luck charm, a mild hypnosis charm. But that girl stuck in her mind. Keith was glad she could have an influence on someone. Changing the way that anyone thought was something Keith never thought she could do.

It was rare that Keith was able to leave her job early. Her friend had come in unexpectedly, with full intention to work the rest of the day. Maybe she’d seen the bags under eyes from working too many late shifts, or maybe she was an angel sent from above, but Keith took the chance to leave without hesitation. She walked out of the store with her head held high like the afternoon sun. Keith pulled the headphones out of her crimson hoodie (a bad choice on such a hot day, she decided a few moments later) and scrolled through her playlists.

Happy? Sad? Angry? Bored? Inspired? Yeah, inspired.

She put the earbuds in her ears and cranked up the volume all the way. Her father always warned her about her about going deaf prematurely, but since he wasn’t here, she could do what she wanted to. Music seemed like a good solution for her problems. There was far too much on her mind to keep track of.

So when she crossed the street and walked right into a parked van, it came as no surprise to her. Standing up and rubbing at her forehead, Keith looked at the van. Ironically, it was a parked moving van. She chuckled at this for a second before realizing the implications.

Someone new in town!

Keith walked around the van and looked towards the house. She recognized it vaguely, she had toured it while searching for a new place to live. It was a small, pale blue house, made just for someone like her. Small, but not cramped, tidy, without being for a neat freak, and just far enough away from the city to not be interrupted at night, while being close enough for her to walk to work.

The newest member of her small community had a lot of boxes. Boxes meant a lot of stuff. A lot of stuff meant a lot of history. A lot of history meant lots of stories. All in all, it meant questions. And not just for even whoever was moving in, but for her. It was truly a double edged sword.

Regardless, she wanted to meet her new neighbor. It was turning out to be a good okay, so she thought she might as well try something new. Keith stood next to the tallest box she could find and peeked over the top.

“Need a hand?”

“Yeah, kinda,” the voice on the other side chuckled. A woman stepped out from the other side. She held her prosthetic arm out for Keith.

Oh. My. God.

“I am so so so so so SO sorry. I don't know what came over me. I-I didn’t mean to--” Keith stuttered, extremely flustered.

“No, no! Don't worry. It's an expression! Not to mention, you didn't know,” she responded.

Keith scratched her neck awkwardly. She looked up at her new neighbor. She was tall. Very tall. And very, very attractive. Keith felt her heart flip about, like a gymnast in the middle of a huge tumbling pass.

“I’m Shiro, by the way,” Shiro said.

“Nice,” Keith said, forgetting how to speak for a moment. “Oh, OH, Oh. Um. I’m Keith. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Shiro smiled and shook her hand. Keith blushed profusely and grinned.

“Do you wanna come inside maybe? You’re the first person who I’ve actually met, so I’m kind of ready to get to know someone,” Shiro asked. Keith stared for a second before replying. Shiro shifted her weight awkwardly, waiting for a reply. Keith snapped to and nodded hastily.

“Alright then, grab a box and come on in!”

The inside was smaller than she remembered. The front hall lead to a small staircase. Behind that, a kitchen, which was connected to a tiny dining room. And to the left of the front hall, a living room with a bay window. Keith recalled wanting to buy the house solely for the bay window. From the foyer, she could see the sliding-glass doors. In some ways, it reminded Keith a lot of her house, but a few glaring differences diffused her illusion.

For example, the furniture was all some sort of soft fabric. The couch looked especially so, like one out of a commercial. Much bigger, the bay window- one of Keith’s favorite features. But hidden in the corner, was a small shelf. Despite being no bigger than about a foot, the shelf drew her attention due to its ornate nature. The base, decorated with carvings of swirling seas and bolstering breezes, tapered up to the top, where hand-painted fairies fluttered loftily around as sirens swam in the seas below.

The shelf didn’t just stand out because of its detail, but rather its content. The shelf was stocked full of the same type of small, canvas bag. Why was it so familiar?

Shiro sighed at Keith’s fascination. She shrugged her shoulders slightly, saying, “Welp, I guess you caught me.”

It hit Keith like a bus what the bags were. Spell bags! What kind, though? And why did she have so many? Usually, one or two charms will suffice for all of your needs- what could anyone have done to need that many charms. Her look of fascination turned to mild-to-severe concern.

“A-Are these all yours?” Keith stammered.

“Yeah, unfortunately. But don’t go getting the wrong idea. Let me explain,” Shiro waited a second to let Keith catch up. “I’m a witch. A bad witch. Not a bad witch, I’m not evil or anything. I just… can’t do magic well. These are all good luck charms. All...”

Shiro counted her charms before continuing on, “57 of them.”

Keith’s eyes practically popped out of her head. Fifty-seven good luck charms?? How th-

Shiro held up her finger again and pointed to one final charm hanging around her neck, “58.”

Keith was flabbergasted. In all her years, she had never met someone who needed more than three charms. She had only heard of people like that in stories her father told her growing up. Why did she have so many charms? How could anyone be that bad at magic??

Keith decided it was best to not to question any further, seeing as it would be kind of rude to just up and ask “How the hell are you so bad at this?”. She followed Shiro into the small dining room. From the blue plaster walls hung all sorts of paintings- ones of birds (flying, sitting, doing all sorts of birdy things), of magic symbols (mostly those Keith could never remember the names of), and overlapping lines (the kind of painting that made her think “Yikes that’s a mess”).

“Damn,” Shiro said from the other room. Keith looked into the kitchen to find her frustratedly twisting the knobs on the stove. She banged her fist hard on the counter, hardly recoiling, to Keith’s surprise. She walked into the kitchen and tapped on her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

Shiro sighed, “The stove won’t light. And I don’t have a lighter, even.”

Keith gently pushed Keith out of the way and pointed a finger towards the stovetop. It ignited instantly.

“See the thing is- I’m a witch too. I don’t have 57…58 good luck charms,” Keith explained. “I make charms though. So if you ever need 59… I’m your gu- gal. I’m your gal.”

Shiro looked quickly between Keith and the now-lit stove with a massive grin. She hastily explained that she had never actually met anyone else with magic since grade school. The overjoyed look on her face made Keith blush more and more with every second. She nodded and excused herself back to the dining room.

Minutes later, tea was ready. Shiro delicately carried in the kettle along with a sugar dish. Keith stared in marvel at her prosthetic arm.

“What kind of tea do you want, Kei- oh,” Shiro became quiet and tugged on the her folded-up sleeve, pulling it over the metal.

“Huh, oh, uh, um...” Keith said, clamoring over her words.

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s not every day that you meet someone without an arm, I guess.”

“No, no it’s not like that at all, it’s just like… how?” Keith asked, hopefully.

“How...?”

“How does it work?”

“Oh! Magic, actually. Not mine, but yeah… that’s the only way that I would ever have an arm again, so I said ‘To hell with it’ and now I have… this,” she finished, gesturing towards her arm. Keith gushed for a moment about how cool it was. Shiro beamed brightly. She walked back into the kitchen and dug through some boxes.

“So what kind of tea do you want? Mint… mint… orrrrrr mint?” she laughed.

“You wouldn’t have to have… mint, would you now?” Keith quipped back. The two laughed as the teabags steeped.

The tea was warm and smooth. In some ways, Keith imagined that’s what it would feel like to be held by Shiro. But no, that couldn’t be. Keith was straight.

Right?

Maybe?

Okay so maybe not. But this wasn’t the time for a sexual awakening. It was time for tea.

The discussion during tea varied greatly. They jumped from topic to topic like frogs on lilypads, barely even breathing between words. Lions, however, seemed to be a common ground.

Lions, as Keith learned, were Shiro’s favorite animal. They way they roared, how protective they are, even the way they played, interested her. Keith was always a cat person, so she could relate- to some extent at least.

Lions were always the topic, but they laughed like hyenas. Shiro’s laugh, Keith noted, was rich. It wasn’t shallow and soft like hers. Shiro’s laugh was warm and deep, like the grotto she grew up by. The seconds on the clock grew longer. Time seemed to slow down whenever Shiro so much as smiled.

The sun dipped below the horizon as Keith left her house that night. On her way out, Shiro gave her a small card, whispering softly in her ear. She shoved the card into her pocket. Keith grinned as she walked down the street, her heart practically tripping over itself. Like the little girl from earlier, Keith felt something like never before- a spark that burned bright deep inside her, growing and growing into a heated blaze. She felt the blaze spread throughout her body, like embers being blown back to life. Keith smiled as she felt the familiar tingle in her fingertips. She flexed her palm and a small flame appeared in it. She let the little fire illuminate her all the way home, extinguishing it by cupping its warm energy and pulling it close to her when she reached her doorstep. Keith slept easily that night.

The next day seemed to crawl by. There was no way that she was going to miss a chance to see her new friend. Friend? Friend seemed like the right word, but it wasn’t exactly right. But friend would suffice. Customers in, customers out. In. Out. In. Out. The words, “Have a nice day!” seemed to echo in her mind. Keith groaned as she leaned against the counter.

She stood up again as the bell chimed against the glass door. It was one of her regulars, Mrs. Elbourne. The old lady strolled up to the counter, where Keith had already resorted to slouching again.

“Rough day, honey?” she asked sympathetically. Keith nodded, letting the exhaustion show through her face. “Oh Keith, sweetie, you look like you haven’t slept in years!”

Keith chuckled at the irony, “Actually, last night was the first night where I actually was able to get to sleep before midnight!”

“Did you meet someone?”

“No, Mrs. Elbourne,” Keith replied, rolling her eyes a bit. Mrs. Elbourne sighed with slight disbelief.

“I remember being in love. The late Mr. Elbourne was quite the charmer, let me tell you. The first date, I remember he took me to the old rose garden by the cemetery. It was a full moon...”

Keith smiled as she described the date, but tuned out halfway through. Her mind was distracted by thoughts of Shiro dashing around her mind. Keith imagined the feeling of being held tight by Shiro all night long. She thought of the soft kisses, the sweet laughter, the quiet moments that they could share.

“...and of course, he was quite shocked when I made the skeletons dance with us, but all in all, it was quite romantic,” she finished, with a satisfied look on her face. Keith waved off that last bit with a little laugh.

“So what will it be today? A communication spell? A few ingredients? A box of cereal?”

“Oh, nothing. Just thought I would stop by and say hello,” Mrs. Elbourne smiled mischievously. Damn. Keith forgot that she was telepathic.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Elbourne,” Keith said. The old woman grinned and walked out of the store, leaving Keith alone in the store once again. Keith whipped out her phone and furiously texted her co-workers, Allura and Hunk.

K: I’M LEAVING IN 10, SOMEONE TAKE OVER FOR ME

H: Why? Is everything alright?

K: THINGS ARE BETTER THAN OKAY!!

A: Oh dear God, Hunk. She’s in love.

H: ooooOOOOOOOO YOU’RE IN LOVEEEEE

K: AM NOT

A: Yep, definitely.

K: Just one of you get over here soon.

Keith put her phone away and waited a few seconds, anticipating the bell to ring right away. To her surprise, she didn’t hear anything. She checked her messages

A: I can’t today. It’s my turn to go see my dad.

H: It’s date night with Shay!! I have to get ready!

K: Guys, seriously??

A: I know how much this means to you, but I don’t get to see him often.

H: Shay just got back from out of state…

K: Alright. Fine.

She slammed her phone against the countertop. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew the card Shiro had given her. She turned the thick cardstock over and over again in her hands, letting every groove and indent of the penned-in numbers register against her skin. What did she have to lose? Keith picked up her phone.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Click.

“Hello?” came a voice on the other end. Keith didn’t know what to do.

“Keith,” she anxiously stated. She heard Shiro’s laugh through the phone.

“Hi Keith. It’s nice to hear from you!” she giggled. Keith blushed madly.

“Uh… I was wonderi- What are you doi-,” Keith wracked her brain, searching the deepest nooks and crannies of her mind for just the right thing to say. She clenched her fists and mustered up all of the determination she could. “Do you need any more help unpacking boxes?”

“Yeah, actually! I have could really use an extra set of hands. No pun intended.”

“YES!!!- I mean, great! Sounds amazing. See you later!” Keith hung up the phone abruptly. She slumped against the wall by the counter and sighed, lost in thought once again. Sinking to the floor, Keith closed her eyes slowly.

It was a good nap. Mostly uninterrupted, mostly calm, mostly full of good dreams. She would have known entirely if she hadn’t been so rudely interrupted by Hunk.

Hunk? Hunk. Hunk??

Why was Hunk here?

“Sleeping Beauty awakes at last!!!!” he cried in mockery. Keith rubbed her eyes gently, clearly disoriented.

“What time is it? And why are you here?” she asked groggily.

“After you passed out, I got a text from Lance saying he came in and didn’t see anyone in the store, but it was unlocked. So I came to check and found you, takin’ a nap in the corner like it was some sort of lockdown drill. By the way, it’s 6:30, ya doof,” Hunk briefly explained. How could it be 6:30 already? Shiro was expecting her soon.

“But wait, what about Shay?” Keith yawned and stretched her arms, motioning for Hunk to pull her up. She stood up and brushed herself off.

“Shay had to cancel. More work stuff, she said.”

“Oh no… I’m so sorry Hunk,” Keith said sympathetically. Hunk shrugged it off and suggested they close the shop a bit early tonight. She happily agreed. Hunk tidied the aisles and checked stock while Keith ran over the sales for the day.

“Y’know ever since Allura’s dad… y’know… it seems like we’ve become a lot more distant,” Hunk said suddenly. Keith snapped her head around to look at him.

“What do you mean?”

Hunk took a second to finish sweeping the floor where he stood and moved onto the aisle before continuing. “I dunno. It just seems that she’s never in the store anymore.”

“Well, that’s understandable. Her father practically raised her here. And since the accident, she really doesn’t like being here. It reminds her too much of him.”

Hunk shrugged and focused back on his sweeping, stopping only moments later to make a snide remark about the price of pineapple, his favorite. Keith stuck her nose back into her bookkeeping duties. She shut the thin, leather bound book and pulled her belongings into a bag.

“Wait, where are you going?” Hunk called after her.

“I’m going to a friend’s.”

Keith walked quickly. She felt a cool breeze against her cheek as she paced, faster and faster, closer and closer. She reached the doorstep and knocked gently. No answer. She knocked again, a bit harder. No answer. She knocked a third time, nearly banging on the door. Shiro interrupted her “knocking”.

“Hi, babes, come on in!” she smiled. Keith felt her jaw drop. Babes? No one had ever called her that, or even anything close to that. Shiro took note of that and grinned mischievously before practically pulling her inside.

There were more boxes than before, even though it was evident that there was progress being made on the unpacking of things. In the living room, there was another huge sofa, but this one looked much fluffier (How that was even possible, Keith wondered). The dining room had some more of the paintings put up. Shiro’s stove worked, from what she could guess based on the smell of marinara sauce when she walked in.

“Whatcha making?” she asked.

Shiro gestured to the stove. “Pizza! Just with extra cheese.”

Keith watched in awe as she added various spices and cheese to the sauce. The oven beeped. Shiro called something about getting the over over her shoulder. Keith opened the door slowly and removed the tray from the oven with her bare hands. Shiro gasped in shock and rushed over with a oven mitt to take it away from her. Shoving her towards the sink, Shiro lectured her about oven safety and how that was, “a dangerous and impressive stunt”.

“Shiro, darling. That doesn’t hurt me,” Keith reassured her. Shiro sputtered for a second before collecting her thoughts enough to ask for an explanation. “I’m a) A very powerful witch and b) A pyromancer. I literally create flames from my fingertips.”

“Oh yeah! Never mind then!” Shiro exclaimed and carried on. Keith let out a small laugh for her fluttered friend. Shiro poured the sauce on the pizza crust and added more cheese before putting it back into the oven. Now would be a good time to tell her that I’m lactose intolerant.

Chit-chat, Keith soon discovered, was not her strong suit. The night went slowly, but she had no intentions of waiting for time to pick back up again. It was surreal. Minutes felt like hours whenever she was with Shiro. Everything seemed to be still, suspended in motion, stable. Nothing mattered, but in the best way possible.

And like time, the boxes in the corner didn’t move. At least not until the plates were cleared. Then came the boxes. Each came with a story of its own, one of Shiro’s stories. There was a hairbrush, full of black and white hairs (which Shiro apologized profusely for). Keith found a music box- it played “Twinkle Twinkle” (Shiro confessed it was her favorite as a child). A dress here and there, a pair of matte black stilettos, a few hairpins.

Everything that Keith found made her understand the girl before her a bit more. She felt something burn inside her for the first time in so long. Love? Sure, it could be that, but how? The best idea she could discern, right then and there, was that she was was in crush- the pressing feeling deep in her that at any moment could collapse and shatter into a million pieces, but felt so warm in the meantime.

Keith and Shiro barely noticed the time. It was far past the midnight by the time they noticed.

“Do you want to stay over?”

Keith nearly dropped what she could have sworn was the seventeenth lion figurine when she heard the words slip from Shiro’s mouth. She slowly turned to meet her shocked gaze. Shiro just looked blankly at her confusion. Keith stumbled out something about having to get back. Shiro helped her to her feet. Soon, they stood by her doorstep once more.

“Night, Keith,” Shiro smiled.

“Night babes,” Keith called as she walked down pathway.

Keith’s schedule was overworked to say the least. She never could have imagined ever getting a day off. All that changed when Allura, of all people, stormed right into the small convenience store and demanded full control of the ship. But Keith was not going to pass up an opportunity to take the afternoon off. She texted Shiro and quickly arranged a picnic date in the park, as a friend of course. Just as friendly date as some friendly friends.

They met at her doorstep, like the first time they had dinner together. Since then, they had spent what could have been hours standing at the doorstep, making cute little quips and flirtatious advances. The number of times Keith had been referred to as “babes” had skyrocketed exponentially, particularly on that very doorstep.

And there they stood, just a few months after meeting, at what felt like a turning point- a burning point- in her life. Keith was a phoenix. She had been burned, so harshly, with her work, her reclusiveness, her… everything. She had been born anew, or mostly so. Her work was less of a struggle and more of a joy, her heart felt something besides crippling isolation. Something deep inside of Keith was burning bright, warm, and soft. Shiro had been that spark, the one that burned her in the best way possible. She could only hope it didn’t burn a blaze too hot.

“Uhhh… Keith?” Shiro waved her hand in front of Keith’s face. “Earth to Keith?”

“Yeah? Huh? What?”

“You were spacing out- like WAY out!” she exclaimed. Keith giggled slightly in return. She then gestured towards the basket in Shiro’s hands.

“Ready to get your picnic on?”

The walk to the park was full of fluff. She discovered that Keith was a pyromancer, yet somehow afraid of most fires bigger than a breadbox. Keith leard that Shiro was a vegan for three years, only taking breaks to eat crabs at the beach. They found a spot beneath a blossoming dogwood tree.

“The park looks really nice today,” Keith smiled. Shiro smiled back for a second and started eating a ham and swiss sandwich. Keith frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, it’s nothing!” Shiro said dismissively. Keith looked towards her with big, round, indigo puppy dog eyes and pouted. Shiro booped her nose gently and continued chewing.

“I know that look. What aren’t you telling me?” she hesitantly asked.

“Can I trust you?”

“What?”

“Can I trust you? Not to hate me, not to judge me, not to treat me any different than before.”

“Yes? Of course. Just tell me. Please,” Keith begged. Shiro sighed a bit.

“My magic is unlucky, to say the least. Actually- if to put it frankly, I don’t ‘do’ magic, magic does me. I’m just along for the ride,” she chuckled for a bit before signing and continuing. “But there’s a reason.

“I didn’t have magic when I was younger. I didn’t have… any of this,” she gestured towards her body. Keith tilted her head slightly. “I’m trans.

In elementary school, I knew there was no way I wasn’t a girl. But… my body was different. I just wanted some way to change myself. I knew that no matter what, my parents would love me and stuff, but I didn’t love me. So I did the only thing my elementary school self could ever think of.

“I asked my friends to experiment on me. It’s not like I could do anything else. I mean, I could have told my parents, but that would have been to hard to explain. ‘Hey mom and dad! Your only child wants to completely change herself and be who she wants to be!’ I didn’t want to deal with all of that. So i became a guinea pig, I guess.

“Of course it wasn’t all that bad. Minor scrapes and a tiny burn or two. We were kids, so their magic was nowhere close to as strong as it could be. One day, my best friend Matt, was trying out a new spell- a transfiguration spell, you could say. He asked me what I wanted to be. Well… I think you can guess what I said.

“So I guess that’s what happened. Next thing I knew, I was laying on a hospital bed with a bandage around my arm. It hurt like hell, but I didn’t care. My parents looked horrified, but I was thrilled. My arm seemed like a small price to pay for everything else. That’s how I got my white streak too.”

Keith’s jaw dropped. Now was the time, tell her, Keith! Stop overthinking! You’ve got this! Just say it! Tell her th-

“Me too,” she whispered. She straightened up and spoke with confidence suddenly. “I’m trans too, Shiro.”

Shiro smiled towards her. “Well in that case, I guess I had nothing to worry about! Actually… you’re the first person I’ve told. I’m one for one, I guess.”

The two sat in mutual silence. Keith lay down on the blanket, the sun shining on her face. Moments later, a cloud covered the sun. She sat back up and frowned at Shiro.

“Allow me, madam,” Shiro said as she waved her hands at the sky. She clenched her eyes shut and wrinkled her face. Shiro opened her eyes with hope. The cloud stayed in place. Keith watched as her face fell into a deep pout.

“Try it again babes!” Keith insisted. Shiro persisted once more as she secretly flicked her hand slightly, moving the cloud for her. Shiro opened her eyes again and beamed with delight.

“I did it! Keith, look! I did it!” she squealed as she jumped around slightly. Keith smiled and nodded along happily. “Wait, wait, wait, watch this!”

Shiro took a leaf from off the ground. Keith waited with her eyes widening in anticipation. She cupped her hands around the leaf and squeezed it. When she opened them again, the leaf had turned into a napkin. Shiro handed the napkin to Keith, but as she did so, the napkin did something unusual for a napkin to do- it grew wings. Particularly, dove wings. But hey, at least Keith had a new favorite bird.

Dinner at Shiro’s place became a regular habit for Keith. At least once a week, Keith went over to her house. Their discussions went anywhere their minds could- aliens, space, knives (A topic which Keith greatly enjoyed), family, being trans, flowers- anything. Shiro was very open about a lot of things, which prompted Keith to open up as well. It was a bit of an adjustment at first, especially considering that everyone joked that Keith never spoke more than the same four sentences (“that will be five dollars”, “cash or credit?”, “here’s your change”, and “have a nice day”), but Shiro’s outgoing nature somehow changed Keith in a way. It made her want to talk about everything. Sure, that attitude never passed her doorstep, but Keith was content like that.

On this particular evening, one topic seemed prevalent- jobs. Since moving in, Shiro had been working from home as, as Shiro herself described it, a part-time digital bookkeeper, part-time IT consultant, and full-time badass. However, money in those fields was running short. Shiro needed a job.

“I don’t know where to get one is the problem,” she said as she stoically, adding a sugar cube to her chamomile tea. “All of my friends don’t have any ideas either. Most of them have had steady jobs since they were born, pretty much.”

“You didn’t ask me,” Keith pointed out with a twinge of pain in her voice. Shiro shook her head.

“You love your job. I wouldn’t want to mess things up for you,” she insisted.

“I can ask! I run that store. That store is my bitch. Boom. Problem solved,” Keith picked up her fork and dropped it, which would have been a fantastic gesture if not for the fact that she dropped it in her drink, causing it to spill onto her macaroni and cheese and prompting Shiro to practically split her sides laughing.

The idea seemed appealing enough to be considered. So for that night, and that night only, Keith stayed over. The spare bedroom was still packed with the never-ending boxes from Shiro’s move, so the next best thing was the couch downstairs. Shiro found a warm blanket and a pillow for Keith. She lay them down on the couch and tucked Keith.

“If you need me, I’ll be upstairs. Sleep well!” she wished.

“Where else would you be?” Keith scoffed in reply. Shiro rolled her eyes and walked upstairs. She heard the closing of a door. Gentle snoring followed a few moments later. Keith shut her own eyes and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Where am I? It’s dark. Dark and warm. What a weird combination. Wait a second, no. I’m at Shiro’s house. Am I really having another nightmare again? And why here- why now of all times?

Well… what’s it gonna be this time, huh? Spiders, sharks, strangulation? I wouldn’t be surprised.

A burning figure moved closer and closer to where Keith stood. It smelled of something… sweet? Like flowers, black charred flowers- roses, maybe. As it got closer, she could she the flames, running through its veins, like blood. In its hands, the figure held a heart. Keith looked down. Her heart was missing. The figure approached her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched in anticipation. The other hand gently placed the heart back inside her bosom. Keith expected a burning sensation, but instead was met with a soft warmth, spreading throughout her body.

From the corner of her eye, she could just barely see something interrupting the peace of her dream. A smoky figure crept rapidly towards her, like a stumbling zombie. She quickly turned gaze to face the figure. It looked horrid. She reached her hand out to grab the flaming figure, but it had disappeared. The smoke approached even faster than before. Keith turned to run the other way, but was met face to face with the creature. It engulfed her, leaving a burning feeling in her body. She watched in horror as the flaming figure was extinguished right before her eyes. She could hear its screams as its life drained slowly. Keith cried out in agony for it. She sunk to her knees. The smoke creature’s focus was redirected to her. It sprinted towards her fallen figure and-

Keith’s eyes snapped open. The room was dark. The front windows were open, letting a cold draft sweep through the house. Keith slowly rose to her feet and stumbled towards the window. She tripped over a stray cord, pulling an expensive lamp down with her. Upstairs, a door slammed and footsteps on the stairs. The light clicked on in the living room. Keith lay, emotionally immobilized, a deer in the headlights. Shiro knelt down beside her.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I-I don’t… I don’t know,” she whispered shakily. Shiro pulled her close to her chest. Keith could hear her heart slowly cease its racing pace. She breathed carefully before clutching the loose gray fabric of Shiro’s sweater. She started to shake before breaking down, sobbing quietly into her friend.

After what felt like several millennia, Keith’s tears tapered off, leaving the last few salty drops to run down her face. She sat back on her heels and reached for a table to stand up, but found herself in a heap on the floor again as her knees buckled. Shiro gave her a sympathetic look.

“Come on, babes. I’ll carry you.”

Keith nodded as she felt Shiro scoop her up, bridal style. She tucked her head into the crook of her elbow. Lightswitch clicked off. Footsteps climbed up the stairs. Door opened. Shiro placed her down gently on top of a soft, velvety blanket. It smelled just like her- safe. Shiro tucked the blanket around her before climbing into the bed on the other side. She rolled over to face Keith and smiled.

“Better now?” she asked. Keith nodded. Surrounded by warmth, she drifted to sleep peacefully.

The next morning, everything felt normal again. Had she just spent the night with what might just be her first girl-crush? Yes, but Keith was having a hell of a time pretending that she wasn’t falling head over heels for her.

Sun was seeping through the windows. The dining room table stood in a ray of the warm light as Shiro made breakfast in the kitchen. Occasionally, Keith looked up from her phone to catch a glimpse of Shiro looking at her, only to see her blush and turn away at being caught. Those were the moments that Keith liked the most- those where she could almost hope for just a second that she was loved in the way that she loved Shiro. The thick, sweet smell of maple syrup filled the air as Shiro presented a tall stack of waffles in front of her.

“They smell amazing, but where’s the syrup, babes?”

“Ifs inshide,” she responded through a mouthful of waffles. Keith stared at the plate before her before raising her knife to pierce the flesh of the waffles before her. Syrup gushed out to her surprise. They tasted pretty good as well as being presentationally nice.

“Y’know,” Keith said, staring at her food as she swallowed another bite, “Waffles are just bone-in pancakes.”

Shiro opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. She stared at Keith, completely bewildered. Defeated, she dropped her fork and nodded silently. “You’ve won. But at what cost?”

The walk to the store seemed unusually short. With Shiro by her side though, Keith had a hard time focusing on the pain of her feet from the mile-and-a-half-long walk. Something was off, out of place- more accurately, someone new was in place. As the store entered their view, Keith and Shiro watched as a group of a few girls stood idly outside, snapping bright, pink bubblegum and twisting it around their fingertips. Shiro looked at her with a look of complete bewilderment. She shrugged in response. The tallest girl stretched the gum from her mouth and stuck it against the bricks of the storefront. That was where Keith drew the line.

“Hey! What do you even think you’re doing! That’s vandalism!” she yelled as they stood and stared blankly. The tall girl scoffed at her and rolled her eyes in response. In that moment, Keith saw her pale white skin flash a sort of bright lavender. A glamour, great. She narrowed her eyes. “Get out of here. Now.”

“What are you gonna do, burn me?” the girl laughed. Keith felt her fingertips glowing with rage- and flames.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t.”

The girl stopped laughing and snapped her fingers. Her girl-squad straightened up. Suddenly, the leader was nowhere close to being the tallest. Keith gulped, but gathered her courage and marched closer to them. The leader furrowed her brow and clenched her fists. Suddenly her face relaxed, defeatedly. “Ezor! Acxa! Zethrid! Let’s get out of here.”

The rest nodded or said some sort of agreement. She flipped her long, snow-colored hair and stormed past Keith, shoulder checking her along the way. Keith stared at her as she walked by, noting everything about her. Strangely enough, she had no shame in literally wearing her name. Printed on the back of her royal purple varsity jacket in bright white letters- “LOTOR”. Keith glared.

“Hey beautiful,” Lotor said, winking at Shiro as she passed her. Keith’s eyes started burning bright, letting her hands become engulfed in flames. Shiro stared in awe as Lotor blew her a kiss before raising her middle finger high in the sky and turning the corner, her girls trailing right behind her. Ezor, whipped her magenta ponytail around, and stuck her tongue, but was met with the sight of Keith’s flaming hands. She flinched and turned back around. For just a second, Keith could smell the stench of singed hair, watching as Ezor chased after her friends.

Keith let out a long sigh. Her hands extinguished and she fell to the ground. Shiro rushed to her side and helped her to her feet. Standing up again, she reached for her keys out of her jacket pocket. Keith unlocked the door and ushered her friend in. “Welcome. Put your stuff behind the counter and I’ll give you some tasks for the day.”

“But don’t you have to ask everyone or something like that?” Shiro asked perplexed. Keith shrugged in response. “Just want some help around the shop?”

“Yeah, something like that. Plus, if you do end up working here, you’ll know what to do! You were a digital bookkeeper, right? Well you can do that today because I am horrible at keeping track of that kind of stuff,” Keith finished. She wasn’t quite over the adrenaline rush from her storefront showdown. Shiro just nodded and got to work.

The day was over soon enough and the two were on their way back. Keith, again, walked her to the doorstep and gave her a tight hug before walking back to her own house. She couldn’t get the image of Lotor and Shiro out of her head through.

Maybe she’d be happier with Lotor. I mean that’s not really fair, I’m not even with Shiro.

She opened the door and threw her stuff into the first available space.

I don’t know why someone like her would like someone like me, let alone how. I’m literally on fire most of the time!

Keith turned on the stove and set a kettle of water on it.

No way in hell she could possibly love me. Not possible. I can’t believe it. Lotor walked into her life and Shiro walked out of mine. Maybe I should stop talking to her. Maybe she’d feel better.

The kettle hissed wildly. Keith absentmindedly took it off the boiler with her bare hands. Her skin swelled up slightly, leaving red welts along her palms. She sighed and turned on the sink’s faucet, placing her hands under the cold water. Even if she couldn’t feel it, it wasn’t uncommon for her body to react to touching really hot things, especially when she was emotional. Keith didn’t notice her hands start to shake from the coolness of the water and continued to swim through the ocean of less than favorable outcomes of the meeting from earlier and from then on. Her phone chimed. Not just any chime though- Shiro’s chime.

S: Come over

K: What? Why?

S: Cos

K: Because what?

S: I need help

K: With?

S: Something

K: What something?

S: Come over and you’ll find out

K: I hate you.

K: Be there in 10.

Keith threw on her jacket. It would be easier to drive, for sure, but walking sounded nice.

S: OH OH bring like,,,, all of your charms.

Suddenly, driving didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

Darkness fell over the land, leaving the streetlights to guide the way for Keith, who drove slowly with a box of charms in the passenger’s seat of her small car. She pulled into the driveway of Shiro’s house, to be met with a very upset Shiro standing on the doorstep. She opened her door and stepped out of the car. Shiro rushed towards her car.

“Where are they?”

“Passenger’s side.”

“Thank you,” Shiro said, opening the door and carefully, but quickly, taking out the box. There were at least 30 different pouches of charms and multiples of each. Shiro smiled at the sight. “Thank you, babe.”

Keith nodded before a wave of realization washed over her body. Babe? She never calls me “babe”, it’s always “babes”. What is going on??

Despite her confused condition, she willed herself to follow Shiro through the house and right to the back door, right into the backyard. Shiro set down the box and sighed. Keith snapped to. They stood in front of a rosebush. The buds were clearly dying, which was a shame because of how nice Keith imagined it would look in full bloom.

“Fix it. Please,” Shiro begged.

Keith blinked at her. “I’m sorry, what now?”

“I need you to fix it. Heal it, please. I really need your help. I tried so hard, but I can’t, I just...” Shiro’s voice trailed off as she broke down into Keith’s arms. “Please.”

Keith nodded. “I will, but may I ask why? You don’t have to answer, of course, I just, I’m a bit curious, is all.”

“This rosebush… belonged to my great grandmother, Asaka. Everyone in my family has a clipping. And when we move out, family tradition says that we each take some and plant it wherever we go. That way we leave a legacy. Except I do not have a green thumb. It’s closer that I have a red thumb, or whatever the exact opposite of a green thumb is. Point is this- I need you to save it. Please. It hasn’t taken root at all. It’s going to die soon,” Shiro said, practically crying. Keith nodded and sat down next to the bush with a handful of charms.

To be fair, Keith had no idea what she was doing. As a pyromancer, she could do little more than light things on fire, or so she thought. The first charm she tried was none other than a “helpful growth” charm. Surprisingly, no significant changes were made. A few twisted briars reached towards the ground, but their attempts at rooting seemed unsuccessful. Keith sighed and asked Shiro for another handful. Guess and check, I suppose.

After what felt like eons, more tricky briar branches made their way to the ground, rooting themselves deep within the earth. She sat back on her heels, realizing suddenly how sore she had gotten from being so steeply stooped and crouched over the now-flowering plant. She stood up, stretching the tension out of her muscles, only to see Shiro slumped against a large tree. Keith smiled for a second before gently shaking her friend back to reality. Shiro looked up groggily and gave a dazed look of concern. She parted her lips and began to speak, but was clearly too tired for anything to come out.

“It’s okay, darling, the roses are fine,” Keith said quietly, so not to disturb Shiro, who gave a contented smile before slowly closing her eyes again. Keith sat down beside her, almost letting her eyelids droop for a moment before nudging Shiro awake again.

Shiro groaned and yawned, but gestured for Keith to come closer. She obliged. Shiro brought her soft lips right next to Keith’s face and kissed her gently on the cheek before falling back against the tree and closing her eyes once again, leaning her head against her shoulder. Keith blushed furiously. From across the garden, the roses seemed to look at her. Keith carefully lifted her head and stood up, brushing the dirt from her ripped jeans. Stray petals lay tucked between the folds of her pants. Keith picked a few and held it close to her nose and breathing in the warm, sweet aroma. Suddenly, she felt a tickle in the back of her nose. Oh no. Oh no. OH. NO.

There was no way to avoid it. Keith sneezed, burning the petal in her hand in front of her. She rolled her eyes and sighed. Shiro woke up immediately.

“What smells like it’s burn- OH MY GOD!” Shiro screamed. Keith blew out the petal, reducing it to ash. She dropped it and dusted her hands off before clamping her palm over Shiro’s mouth. To her surprise, Shiro’s jaws clenched and shut, gnawing on her hand.

“Ew!” Keith cried, wiping the spit on the older woman’s shirt. Shiro chuckled in response. She pulled Keith’s hand and dragged her onto the ground beside her, kissing her cheek once again. Keith cupped her hands over her mouth and jokingly screamed into them. Shiro frowned intensely. Keith laughed. “No, no, no, not that. Not that look babes. No!! It’s my greatest weakness!”

The two grinned as they sat under the light of the stars and moon above. Shiro tilted her head up against the tree bark. Keith could see the color of her deep, sliver-y eyes, sparkling in the moonlight, bright against the darkness of the night sky around them. She smiled. Things had never felt so right- everything felt at peace within her. The burning sensation of liking, loving, crushing, whatever it was, had subsided, leaving a soft glow of warmth inside of her. Sitting by the tree under the moonlight was just what she needed. What she needed to confirm. What she had know was true, but was too deep in denial to say out loud.

“I think I love you.”

Keith looked over at Shiro. Those words did not just come out of my mouth- Did she just say that? Oh God, she’s looking at me. What the hell! I was supposed to say that! Way to steal my thunder- wait, what!?

“I think I love you too,” Keith whispered back. Before she knew it, Shiro had leaned her head on her shoulder and was flashing her most adorable smile. Keith stared back at her. Shiro’s eyelids slowly dropped. She began to snore quietly. Keith chuckled to herself for a bit before carefully standing up, pulling Shiro up with her.

Shiro regained her feet reluctantly, claiming that she could walk all by herself, but Keith was evidently dubious of this and chose to keep her arm over her shoulder as the two of them walked up the stairs to her bedroom. Keith tucked Shiro in before her friend/lover/whatever, could say anything about “Not being tired yet”. She closed the door and headed back down the path to the driveway. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of platinum blonde hair, practically white in the moonlight, ducking behind a bush just out of view. Keith could have sworn she had seen that same ponytail somewhere, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Under her breath, she quietly cursed her poor memory, but decided it was best to wait until morning to worry anymore.

The next morning, Keith opened her shop as usual. The usual customers, the usual purchases, the usual things outside the shop’s window as she watched over everything.

“You know, honey, there’s no cure for love aside from admitting it,” came a familiar voice from across the counter. Apparently, Mrs. Elbourne had stopped in for a bit of banter.

“I don’t think I’m in love, but thank you for the tip, I suppose,” Keith laughed playfully.

Mrs. Elbourne rolled her eyes. “Sweet pea, I know what love looks like. And you are most certainly in love.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well, for starters, you haven’t stopped talking about that new girl since she moved in. Keep in mind dear, she’s lived here for… all of 7, maybe 8, months? And you haven’t shut up since you met her! You’re practically infatuated at this point!” Mrs. Elbourne paused to gauge Keith’s reaction. She nodded for the old lady to continue on. She took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m going to guess you’ve been feeling warm lately, from somewhere inside your chest. It burns and hurts, but in all the right ways. Something burning brightly inside of you, like a candle that’s growing into a massive forest fire. It feels out of control, right?

“Just nod, sweetie. Good. Now, that witch girl. The new one. You’ve noticed her, correct? Well, I know you have- I was there, more or less.”

Keith’s jaw dropped. “How the he- Y’know, I’m not even surprised! Leave it to you, Mrs. Elbourne, to find a way to watch over me without even being anywhere in sight. You truly are a magic woman. Anyways, you were saying something about-”

“That girl. She’s powerful. A constant glamour is really hard to keep up. She’s quite impressive looking. Nothing compared to you, though.”

Keith practically chortled with laughter- Me? Good looking? Pffttt. I’m a hot mess.

“Don’t even think about saying any of the lies coming out of your mind. You’re beautiful, darling. You remind me of myself in my youthful days of love!”

“Mrs. Elbourne, don’t take this the wrong way, but do you have a point? It’s been such a long day and-”

The bell above the door clattered and jingled. Mrs. Elbourne rushed out in a matter of seconds and in walked none other than the ponytailed-princess from the night before: Lotor and her entourage. The tallest one of all, a muscular, tanned girl with bright blue puffs sticking out from the side of her head stood by the counter. The name on her blazer read “Zethrid”. Zethrid did not look pleased. Next to her stood a thin girl with a long, pink french braid. She threw her leg onto the counter and reached for her toes, like a runner warming up, and revealing the tattoo on her arm that said “ALTEA REGIONAL CUP CHAMPION”. To her left, a shorter girl. She glared menacingly at Keith. Lotor took her arm. “Acxa, Ezor, let’s take a look around.”

Zethrid took the opportunity to intimidate Keith by slamming a pack of gum down against the linoleum. She followed it with a few, surprisingly loud, coins too. Keith gulped, but rang it up.

Lotor returned from the back of the store holding a bag of popcorn. “This and… your most powerful love charm.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I have any in stock.”

“Well go make one, witch,” Lotor said bitterly. Keith bit back her words and angrily stormed into the adjacent part of her store with all of her charm supplies. The bell on the door clanged again, this time revealing Shiro.

Keith’s face burned a bright, bright red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Shiro smiled at her and waved before she was snatched away by Lotor, who directed her attention to her smooth hair. Keith hastily prepared the charm, eager to save her crush from the glamour of the girl in front of her. Her mind raced with jealousy for a way to get Shiro out of this situation.

“Here’s your charm, have a nice day!” Keith said through the clenched teeth of the biggest, fakest grin she could manage. Lotor shook her head tauntingly.

“I haven’t paid you yet. But first may I see the charm?”

Keith handed the tiny bag to her. “It’s on the house, Lotor.”

Lotor’s eyes glowed an electric yellow hue, startling Keith slightly. She held the bag to her nose and inhaled deeply before letting out an exaggerated sneeze and blowing the contents over Shiro. Keith watched in despair for a moment as the charm seemed to take root in Shiro’s mind. Her eyes fogged over, she started to sway slightly, her knees buckled and she fell to the ground. Lotor helped her up.

“Ow… what the hell was that about? You can’t just go blowin’ charms on people! That’s dangerous, you absolute unit! Are you thick?”

Keith burst out laughing. “I had no idea you were a sassy Brit!”

“Yeah, well something about having charm dust blown in my face doesn’t seem all that appealing!” she countered, glaring intensely at Lotor, whose face immediately lost all of its color. Lotor took one last glance at Keith before leaving as fast as possible, her girl squad following in her wake. The bell chimed for the last time. All was at ease.

“What just happened?” Keith asked, letting out the breath she had been holding deep inside her.

“It didn’t work. Probably because of my curse, to be honest,” Shiro shrugged.

Keith slumped back against the wall while Shiro leaned against the counter. Keith broke the peaceful silence.“I’ll be honest, after that, I’m just about ready to leave this shop. Wanna help me close up for the day a bit early?”

“Why not. We could go to the park!” Shiro added. Keith nodded in agreement. The two packed their belongings and locked the doors to the shop.

The sunlight couldn’t come anywhere close to being as beautiful as Shiro’s smile. Something about it- something about her- was absolutely enchanting. Maybe it was the way that her eyes sparkled a sort of gray-blue when the sun’s bright rays hit them just right. Or maybe it was her perfect eyeliner, which she always seemed to wear, that accented her eyes in all the right ways. It could be her hair, jet black with that streak of pure white. Perhaps it was just the way she looked at Keith, with a smile that brightened up her whole face, sending sparks flying in the emotional wasteland of Keith’s heart. Regardless, it was hot, to say the very least.

“Which park should we go to?” asked Shiro. Keith shrugged. “How about the one we went to last time? What was it again, Baxmore Park?”

“Why not try somewhere else? We could always go to Falls Plaza,” Keith suggested in response. Shiro frowned.

“Can we please go to Baxmore? Lotor said that she would be there and I have something to say to her.”

Keith’s heart dropped. Every muscle in her body suddenly ached and felt burdened down with what she had just heard. Not only does she want to see Lotor, but now she’s going out of her way to see her? But I can’t say no… that would be so wrong.

“Baxmore it is then,” she said sullenly. Shiro noticed her sudden change in tone and demeanor and stopped walking.

“Keith, babes, what’s wrong?”

Keith brushed it off and continued on walking as if she hadn’t even hear the question. Shiro trailed behind her, clearly upset. I keep messing things up. If she wants to be with Lotor, then fine, so be it. She deserves to be happy, not just me. Don’t be so selfish, Keith.

They walked the rest of the way in a slow silence. Instead of the same grassy hill as their last meeting, the pair opted for a park bench. They sat on opposite side of the same bench, or as far away from each other as humanly possible for a four-foot bench. Keith noted that the benches were made of a hard, cold stone which, she admitted to herself, was certainly a good metaphor for her emotional state. It came as no shock to her when Lotor came bounding up to Shiro only minutes after their “picnic” had begun.

“Shiro!” Lotor squealed. She caught a quick glimpse of Keith, who was giving her major side-eye. “And Keith.”

Shiro smiled at her, “Hey Lotor! What’s up?”

Lotor flipped her pale ponytail, nearly whipping Keith in the face. Keith almost got up to slap her, or at least say something, but was stopped by Shiro subtly grabbing her arm. Keith blushed hotly and shot a bit of warm energy into Shiro’s hand, hoping it was enough to deter without causing nerve damage, until she realized it was her prosthetic. Shiro just seemed to grip tighter.

“I was wondering if you’d wanna hang out tonight? Except, maybe, just us? I know a great Thai place and it has a nice, romantic atmosphere! What do you say?” Lotor asked cheekily. Keith felt her blood boil, but Shiro’s hand held her in place.

“No thanks,” Shiro said politely. Lotor’s jaw dropped for a second and she sputtered out a few choice words. She looked like she was going to start begging until Shiro dropped onto one knee, dropping Keith’s hand in the process. Lotor took a step back. Keith winced at the thought of what was to come. “But, speaking of… Keith will you be my girlfriend?”

Keith opened her eyes. “What?”

“Will. You. Be. My. Girlfriend?”

“I thought you’d never ask, you complete dorkus.”

Lotor didn’t seem to be taking the news well. “Why do you want to be with her, don’t you know she’s just a disgusting, lying, stuck-up bi-”

“Do not even finish that word, let alone that sentence. You have no right to say anything like that to my girlfriend. If you respected me, you would understand my wishes and leave me, and my girlfriend, ALONE,” Shiro stood up. She was much taller that Lotor, likely about as tall as Zethrid.

“I bet you have nothing to say about this, huh, you freak?”

“Nope, nothin’. Probably because this ‘freak’ has a girlfriend and you don’t,” Keith retorted harshly. Lotor stormed off. Neither of them cared, particularly because they were interlocked in a well-needed embrace. Keith pulled away first. “Were you serious about that?”

Shiro nodded. “I’d been meaning to do that for a while. And I’m sorry for leading you on like that. I couldn’t think of any other way to get her to leave me alone. She followed me home the other day! Can you believe it!?”

The two sat right next to each other, leaving no more room for alienation on either side of the bench. Keith pulled her girlfriend’s arms around her. From the look on Shiro’s face, the gesture meant a lot. They cuddled for what felt like forever, watching the people walk by, silhouetted against the sun as it set in the sky. Keith walked Shiro back to her house, where she kissed her girlfriend on the doorstep for the first of many times.

Months passed quickly for Keith. Her job wasn’t too hard and she had lots of free time to talk to Shiro. They had grown very close, and it had become almost commonplace for Keith to spend the night at Shiro’s house. It saved her a longer commute to work, anyways. On the cool nights, Shiro would sometimes have them sit outside, citing that it was “natural air conditioning” and

“good compost”. Warmer nights meant dinner in the kitchen, sitting criss-cross on the floor because it seemed to be the coolest room in the house. The temptation to stay the night, to be held by her girlfriend as the darkness slipped into morning and her worries lessened, always hung over head and she gave in more and more as the months went on.

Which was why it was such a harsh reality when she walked into the store- her store, and was handed a pen.

Allura’s dad’s comatose condition had been worsening and deteriorating for quite some time. It wasn’t long before he passed. Allura’s father, Alfor, had been like another dad for Keith, especially given the frequent, long absences of her own. He had taken her in, in a sense, and raised her. Allura and her father were one of the first people Keith came out to. Before the assault that put him in a coma, Alfor was always a happy, smiling man. Allura’s mom had died many years before, leaving her father a single parent, like Keith’s own.

In school, when she was picked on for being “odd” or “antisocial”, Allura was always there to stick up for her. On those days, the two girls would sit together and trade sandwiches, apples, fruit snacks, whatever they had. They would barter with other children and then gather back to share the goods with each other. Alfor was there when Keith scraped her knee from running away from the boys with sticks. He and Allura bought her a tube of lipgloss for her 11th birthday. So when Allura knocked on her door that one fateful night, with tears rolling down her face, something inside Keith burned out and was extinguished- something that would never glow again.

His passing wasn’t a surprise for Keith, but a realization that life moves on, far too fast for her to keep up sometimes. Alfor’s corner shop had to be sold to pay off the remaining medical costs. Keith had already sold off her some of her things to keep the shop’s balances afloat and help subsidise the medical bills, but it wasn’t enough. Bill after bill piled up and in the midst of it all, came that knock on the door and Allura collapsing into her arms and weeping.

The funeral was a few days later. Her tears had never had the chance to dry before Allura started again. Keith remembered the look in Allura’s eyes as she placed a handful of primrose flowers from their garden on the coffin. From then on, Allura had changed- she went through so many phases of emotional distress- as soon as one subsided, another came attacked her. She was drained. Hunk, a close friend of Keith’s, got roped in as a business partner during one of Allura’s more motivated phases. He helped watch the store with Keith. The three of them seemed to manage altogether for a while.

A year after his death, Allura became distant again. Hunk blamed all the pressure from managing her late father’s business. They argued for what felt like hours, before making a final decision. Though the business was in Allura’s name, Keith and Hunk would take control of the store while Allura worked through her problems. Hunk chose to stay with Allura most of the time, while Keith remained at the store.

Memories from the store, the love triangle, Mrs. Elbourne, the little girl with that spark in her eye, flooded over Keith. There was no possible way that it could all just go away with no regards for-

Keith’s hand pressed against the paper. Ink flowed through the body of the pen. She signed her names on the sale papers. Allura broke down in tears. Keith and Hunk comforted her and walked her out to the car. Keith took a final look at the store, her store, their store, on the corner of Bloom and Hartford out the back of the car window as it drove off.

Keith called Shiro and arranged for an emergency dinner. Dinner, and whatever else Shiro had to give- be it love, advice, or a shot of vodka. Shiro gladly obliged. Keith was over at her house as soon as possible. The atmosphere at the doorstep seemed off that night. A cloud of gloom hung over Keith’s head, no matter how hard Shiro seemed to try to dispel it. She put on some sort of chick-flick, hoping to lighten the mood.

“We lost the store today,” Keith mumbled out. Shiro turned to face her girlfriend.

“I’m so sorry… I know how much it means-”

“I grew up there. I had my life there. I’ve helped people, I’ve made a difference, and now all of it… everything… it’s just gone. Like it never happened,” Keith could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She shook her head in a desperate attempt to stop them from falling, but it proved futile. The salty drops fell from her eyes and rolled across her face like rain. And like rain, they didn’t cease for ages. Keith felt her girlfriend’s embrace around her. She leaned into it, remembering all the nights they’d shared, all the memories they’d made, all the perfect hours they had spent.

“You didn’t lose them, y’know? The people who you helped, who you inspired, who you touched, they still know you. You still impacted them. And you have your memories, Keith,” Shiro whispered into her ear. Keith felt a small smile creep across her face. “So what do you say, baby? Let’s celebrate the good right now.”

Shiro pulled her girlfriend up and guided her to the dining room, where a meal was already set up. Keith was completely perplexed. “When did you have the time to do any of this?”

“I have magic, darling, just like you. Sure, it’s a pain in the but sometimes, but it’s times like this that it comes in handy. All you have to do...” Shiro gestured to the table in front of her, “Is light the candles.”

Keith smiled, making the candles start to glow a warm amber. Shiro pulled out her chair for her and introduced the dishes in front of her. She could see the sparkle in Shiro’s eyes as she proudly described each part, pointing out the details and ingredients, being sure not to skimp out on her own stories about each dish.

Dinner went smoothly, though it was clear to Shiro that Keith would definitely want to stay the night. Keith was quiet for most of the night. They went back to watching the movie and cuddling after their dinner. Keith told Shiro about her favorite memory from the story, reliving it as she told it: the girl.

“She wanted to play with fire. Not in a bad sense, but she wanted to try it. Fire is powerful, it’s so beautiful, but it can be so destructive. You have to have someone with you… otherwise you might get burned.

“I didn’t have someone. I mean, I had Allura and Alfor, but they didn’t share what I had in the same sense. It was a burden to them, just an inconvenience. I didn’t learn how to control my magic for quite some time. In fact, I burned my hands so many times, I stopped keeping track. That’s part of why I barely feel heat in them anymore. But I leaned to start practicing all alone, far away from everyone, where I could be sure that I wouldn’t hurt anyone.

But that just seperated me. I didn’t have any idea of what I could do. Allura kept me sane all those years where I felt all alone, abandoned, unloved. When Allura’s dad… y’know… with the accident and everything… She left.

“So I guess I latched onto the closest thing to her- her store. I never, ever thought I’d have to… give up something. Nor that it would hurt like this. But hey, you learn something new everyday, I guess.”

Shiro pulled Keith closer into her and kissed her cheek. “There’s another expression that I feel suits this occasion more, but I need you to trust me, okay?”

Keith nodded hesitantly. Shiro took her hand and brought her outside, placing a small box in her hands, giving the instruction not to open the box until she felt it was the right time. Without saying anything else, she shut the door. Keith could faintly hear the sound of the door locking shut.

How rude! Seriously, what the hell was she thinking? How can anyone be so stupid as to do this? I cannot believe her. If I’m that much of a burden, she may as well just tell me.

She jiggled the doorknob. It was locked.

“Shiro! Shiro? Shiro, please, this isn’t funny. I’m really not in the mood for your antics right now...”

No answer. Keith stared at the tiny cardboard package in her hands. What even is it? Why is it so important that she had to kick me out of her house for me to open it?

Keith breathed a controlled flame and carefully melted the tape off the box. She opened the flaps of the box to be met with what she could only dream of. On a golden chain, there was a small key. She gently took the key out of the box and pushed it into the lock on the door. It opened. Keith stepped inside, where Shiro stood with open arms.

“Welcome home, Keith.”

#sheith reverse bang #srb #big bang #sheith #trans female characters #magic #magic au #au #voltron au #fluff #fluff and angst #but not much angst #mentions of transitioning #mtf character #tooth rotting fluff #its so soft #i couldn't write angst to save my life #my writing

[rhysand-vs-fenrys]

Maybe this ask is weird, maybe it's not... but as a bisexual Mor and Aedion are incredibly important characters to me and your Lysaedion writing is so so good.

There is nothing weird about that at all!!

Representation is overwhelmingly important, and what you said is exactly why!

Even though Aedion will end up with Lysandra (my shipper heart), I didn’t want to ignore his bisexuality at all. He has a romantic history, and I believe that flavors you and everything you do. You carry your history with you if it was something good and loving, and by the tiny snippet we have so far, it certainly sounds like it.

Representation is so critical- I would be willing to say sexual diversity is as critical as racial diversity.

As a straight white woman I have never been in a situation where I didn’t have a character easily within reach to identify with. As a kid I never questioned it, but as the subject of diversity started coming up I realized just how unfair that situation was to others. I had representation to my heart’s content. I could look at these characters and identify with them— but others couldn’t without a critical piece missing. They couldn’t look at a loving bisexual or homosexual main couple in nearly every book ever written and be like “Yep! This is just a normal healthy relationship and I want exactly this one day!!” No- people my age had to deal with homosexuality being seen as something radical in a book, a gimmick or a shocking scene (usually involving either whores or villains). They had to deal with hearing “gay” or “queer” slung about as an insult and it was almost as if being homosexual or bisexual was something to be ashamed of (sadly, it is still treated that way in many many cases even in media).

Anger and hate grow from a place of shame, every negative emotion does, and so people felt they were a villain or sick or wrong for what their heart felt was right, and were pushed down when they should have had that same uplifting experience straight readers were getting. Books featuring our sexuality in the main couple weren’t automatically pulled out and segregated over to a tiny LGBT section at the back of the store (LGBT is a fine section if it is nonfiction, self-actualization or acceptance kind of stuff, but when fantasy and sci-fi and romance books are put there only because the main couple happens to be gay or bi or someone is trans (and the books are not also included on the main shelves for that genre)??? That is where I take issue).

I will never be able to grasp what it feels like to grow up in a world where you cannot find someone like you to look up to in a book. Someone who isn’t a token stereotype minority figure there for a chapter or the token bisexual/lesbian/gay/trans character probably oversexualized to the point where that is their only character trait and/or the villainous, sneaky figure… and it is terrible that people have had to put up with just that.

I decided a long time ago that in every book I ever write I will include AT LEAST as many minority characters as white and AT LEAST 3 sexualities. I know one person cannot change much alone, but hopefully it will help encourage other white writers to stop and take stock of their characters make sure they are building POSITIVE diversity as much as possible.

So yeah- it is not weird at all that you have a particular soft spot for characters who you can directly identify with, especially since it is an underrepresented group in media. I think Maas has realized the lack of representation in her books and is making strides to fix that, which is fantastic. Hopefully she keeps up the momentum in her new books and even in new series :) Aedion and Mor were a good start as far as mains go (and both ACOTAR and ToG added some fantastic LGBT secondary characters who hopefully will become more main in upcoming books), but I hope there can be more until kids don’t have to grow up closeted or read books that make them feel like a pervert or villain for loving who they love or being who they are.

And I am glad you enjoyed the fic!! 🌈💕🌈💕 🌈

#ask #representation matters #representation