All demons have a vague sense of precognition, so they only take children as payment from people who would become horrible parents.
I was raised in the Demon Orphanage. You look skeptical. And who wouldn’t be? ‘Tis a rare thing to hear, but it’s true.
I know that sounds bad but really, demons are outstanding caretakers. They don’t need sleep or rest. There’s few beings more patient. Infernal magic is eminently useful. My education was continuous and organic. I didn’t so much attend class as I was simply around beings of incredible intelligence and knowledge who taught us as naturally as we breathed.
You wonder if I stayed all my childhood in the orphanage. I didn’t. But some do stay.
I was personally adopted by an archduke of Hell whose specialty was astrophysics. My mother taught ethical philosophy to other demons. My second father was a polymath and inventor.My boyfriend during my teenage years was raised by an astronomer and a tactician.
You seem to think Hell must be a terrible place for a child. Poorly informed as you are by the Roman Catholic Church and it’s many, often wildly ignorant, offshoots.
Hell is orderly and safe. The souls of the damned are endless and their punishment must be efficient. Those who have not earned punishments must not be punished, and are safer there than any other place in the universe. The darkest, most remote wilderness of Hell is safer for me than in the most heavily guarded fortress or vault in the mortal realm.
So why am I here in the mortal realm? Well, I must admit my second father’s curiosity is quite infectious. I wanted to travel and experience other realms. Those who stay in Hell too long eventually become demons themselves, and many do choose that path, but I didn’t. And Earth seemed a fine place to start. Of course, I had to support myself, so I took a commissions job that pays quite nicely.
You shrug, limited curiosity sated. And put bloody pen to parchment. I was also raised in the old traditions.
I promise you won’t regret this.
My eyes are, perhaps, a bit too bright. There are, maybe, too many teeth in my smile. You shrug these impressions off as illusions. I’m a mortal, like you.
i am holding hands with a girl at the pet store. i love how her voice changes when she speaks to different animals. round and bubbly for the angelfish, high and breathy for the calico kittens, sonorous and slithery for the python. she loves them all, even the great hairy tarantula that makes me cringe.
i am holding hands with this girl whose halo of hair glows banana yellow under the heat lamps in the reptile section, who offers her index finger to teething kittens. she asks “can’t we have one?” in the voice she uses for only me. a voice i can’t describe without using her name, but i imagine joan of arc heard something similar the day she picked up a sword. she is still holding my hand, and i feel like i’d sink into cartoon quicksand if i let go. so i don’t.
“are you two… together?”
this is not unfamiliar, but the woman’s voice, the voice she has chosen, is angrily acidic. this woman has laced her tone with arsenic, without even a passive aggressive teaspoon of sugar to hide her poison. she inhales, puffing herself up like a frightened lizard before her final words.
“there are children here, you know.”
in the future, i think of a thousand things to say. we were children too. two girls holding hands after school. two girls holding hands at the movie theatre, two girls in a booth at tony’s pizza, two girls sharing awkward first kisses after two solo cups of wine in someone else’s backyard. two girls holding kittens at a pet store on a saturday afternoon.
i know now that they see us through funhouse mirrors: distorted, disturbed, our monstrous bodies taking too much space, spoiling innocent spaces with our imposing sexualities. our innocence never ours to begin with.
even with this, there is nowhere i would rather be than holding hands with her in a pet store, with her voice like rain on a hot day, her peach lips blowing kisses for fish, her grip tightening as if to say “i dare you to take this away from me.”
Re-posting this so folks actually see the damn thing.
Please forgive the length… the plot bunny got away from me… very far away from me…
There was blood on the floor.
Avrex blinked and stared at the red droplets on the floor. More red caught xer eye. There was more just under the edge of the seat. As if someone had tried to wipe it up but hadn’t thought to get under the very edge. Only one species on board had red blood.
This had to belong to one of the humans.
But why would blood be here in waste room of all places? Granted, humans were an odd breed, and used the waste rooms for more than the elimination of waste. Some even installed mirrors and extra lights and spent an hour or more in there! But blood? Why here? And why on the waste reclaimer lid? Surely if one of the humans was injured they would go to the infirmary….
…wouldn’t they?
Avrex shook xer scaled head and stalked out of the waste room. Xey would get to the bottom of this.
The humans had been hired three months prior. Two at first. Then another two a month later. And a fifth one a month after that. They were extremely useful, and didn’t really take up much space.
Hunting down any of said humans was a challenge.
Three of the humans were mechanics, and could be found shimmying their slender bodies between various components of the ship to reach the part they desired to work on. Even with an extra set of large eyes, Avrex would often walk right by the little beings, missing their little oil and grease smeared bodies in amongst the equally oil and grease smeared engine components. At a hulking ten feet tall, Avrex often missed the little monsters because they were under something or other.
The massive first officer dismissed the mechanics as a viable first target for questions. Searching through the entrails of the ship for crew members that xey may or may not find was not an effective use of xer energy or time. Xey could always catch the mechanics at the designated meal time if the other two humans couldn’t answer xer questions satisfactorily.
The fourth human was no easier to find. He was a security guard, and could be anywhere on the ship at any given time. Despite the fact that he wasn’t a mechanic, he seemed to share their proclivity for climbing on things, and for crawling into spaces that were inaccessible to most of the rest of the crew.
That left Carl.
Avrex made xer ponderous way down to the metallurgy lab. The human designated as Carl was not like the others. He was much older. The kind, gentle being had been the first human the ship had taken on, and had paved the way for the four other humans that followed. The others respected him greatly, turning to him for wisdom and advice. Surely Carl would have some insight into why there was human blood in the waste room.
Carl was right where he was supposed to be.
Avrex pressed the alert button and patiently waited to be granted entry just outside the lab doors. The request was swiftly answered, the doors sliding open with a soft hiss to admit the ship’s first officer.
Carl had put his work station into a safe position, and turned in his seat to give the hulking alien from Jarrok his full and undivided attention. Avrex had always liked that about Carl. While the human ability to multi-task often came in useful, it was sometimes disconcerting to hold a conversation with a being that never once even glanced in xer general direction while they spoke.
Carl smiled as he stripped of his protective gear. “Avrex. What brings you down here?”
The first officer assumed a parade rest position. “I have a query about human behavior, and had hoped that you could explain.”
The human chuckled and ran a hand through his graying hair. “Well, I’ll do my best. Go on and fire away.”
Avrex paused, then decided to ignore the odd turn of phrase. Experience had shown that large amounts of time were wasted when human parlance was questioned. “I discovered a small amount of blood in one of the communal waste rooms. I am aware that humans use waste rooms for more than their intended purpose, but I am at a loss as to what form of task could take place in a waste room, and possessed the potential to cause injury. The blood was red, thus it can be safely assumed that such belonged to one of the humans on board. But none of the humans have sought out medical aid. If one of my crew is injured in any capacity, as first officer I am entitled to know, so that I may account for such injuries when drawing up the duty roster for the coming cycles.”
The elderly male frowned thoughtfully. “There are a couple things it might be. But I’m not going to stir up panic by picking the wrong one. Which waste room was it you found the blood?”
Feeling dread curdle in xer gut, Avrex gave him the correct room number.
Carl nodded. “Melanie was supposed to be working up near that sector. More’n likely it’s her blood you found. Come on, I’ll walk up with you and help straighten this mess out.” Avrex started to protest. Surely xey could manage without taking Carl away from his work if given the pertinent information. The elderly human shook his head in seeming amusement. “Trust me Avrex, it’s better if I go along. If this is what I think it is, you’d just end up with a very angry or hurt mechanic on your hands.”
The first officer shut xer maw, frilled ears pinned back against the sides of xer head. What could possibly be going on that would result in a human being injured or angry?
Xey walked back down to the correct deck with Carl, deciding to wait and see. If what Xey had heard from other ships was true, an angry human was something to be avoided if at all possible.
Despite the consistent trouble the rest of the crew had in locating the mechanics while about their work in the engines, Carl seemed to have no problem tracking down the correct human.
At his call, she crawled out of a space so tight Avrex wasn’t sure xey could’ve gotten a paw in.
The second human the ship had taken on, Melanie had been hired barely a week after Carl. She was by far the smallest of the humans, and the quietest. Her peers took shameless advantage of her small size, leaving work in the tightest spaces to her. She didn’t seem to mind, preferring to work alone rather than with her group as most humans were purported to do. In fact, with the exception of Carl she seemed to avoid all of her kind for the most part.
The raven haired female flashed her teeth in the odd threat gesture that humans insisted denoted welcome, amusement, or joy.
Melanie wiped her hand on a rag and stuck it out to Carl for a traditional human greeting. “Hey Carl. Did one of your do-dads break down again?”
“Not this time dear.” Carl assured. “The first officer swung by with a question, and it seemed you’d be most likely to have the answer. Seems Avrex swung by the restroom and found human blood on the floor. Any chance you’d know something about that?”
Melanie paled.
The elder human nodded and patted her shoulder, seeming to have derived his answer from her silence. “It’s alright dear, no need to worry. I was married for thirty-five years before cancer took my sweet Belle, and she and I raised six beautiful daughters. There isn’t a thing under the sun I haven’t seen, and I’ve made more trips to the store for feminine things than I could probably count! Do you need any help, or do you have everything in order?”
The young female slowly relaxed at his kindly manner. She shook her head, asserting that she had ‘it’ covered. Avrex shifted xer weight, subtly drawing the humans’ attention back to xer question.
“You’re the only woman on board, Mel. Would you like to explain? Or would you rather I did?”
Melanie’s cheeks started to change color underneath the grease. “I can do it.”
Carl seemed pleased by the answer. “Go get ‘em then. And if you need anything, you go ahead and ask me or Cal. That’s the lad over in security, in case you didn’t know. Lord knows he’s young, but he won’t give you any grief if you need something and can’t get it yourself.”
Calling a farewell, Carl patted Avrex on the shoulder and headed back to his lab, leaving the massive reptilian being towering over the tiny female.
Avrex slowly squatted down as low as xey could manage in an attempt to put her at ease. Xer experience with humans was still somewhat limited, but observation had shown that humans tended to be slightly intimidated by a difference in height.
Her cheeks were changing color again. Looking down, the human female mumbled something at the floor.
Avrex cocked xer head. “Could you repeat that more clearly please?”
Melanie seemed to gather her courage and finally looked the massive officer in the larger pair of xer four amber colored eyes.
“I’m on my period.” The admission made, she seemed to lose some of her discomfort. “It started a few hours ago while I was up in the machinery. I had to climb down and run to the rest roo-damnit, waste room to clean myself up. I’m sorry about the blood, I’ll be more careful in future.”
Avrex cocked xer head. “I do not understand. I was under the impression that ‘period’ is a form of punctuation denoting the end of a sentence. How then, can you be ‘on’ it?”
She stared at xem for a long moment, eyes widening as she slowly seemed to realize that xey genuinely had no idea what she was talking about. “Ok. Um… the word ‘period’ also means a length of time. Human females use the word as slang to talk about a specific time. It’s… God, I can’t believe I’m giving an alien the talk. Ok, so basically…”
Avrex listened in growing astonishment as the little female described a process by which one of her internal organs partially deconstructed itself once a month unless she put it to use in forming a baby. If she was to be believed, it happened once a month from approximately age eleven to age forty to fifty. Admittedly, compared to the amount of blood in the human body the amount lost during one of the episodes she described was relatively small. But, she explained that other fluids were expelled as well, along with pieces of the organ that was shredding and rebuilding itself. The entire process took place approximately every three to four weeks.
Avrex shook xer head. “Shouldn’t such a process be painful?”
Melanie shrugged. “Well yeah. I know some women who stay in bed the entire time they’re on because it hurts so bad.”
The first officer reared back in alarm. “Are you in pain?!”
Another shrug. “My uterus is shredding it’s inner lining because I’m not knocked up with a baby. Yes, I hurt.”
Avrex had to work hard not to snap xer teeth in xer anger on Melanie’s behalf. “If human females require bed-rest while experiencing one of these ‘periods’, why are you not in bed? Surely if you explained the situation to the medical officer he would have given you medical leave. We do not require a crew member to return to active duty immediately after surgery, surely an internal organ coming apart cannot be so different!”
Melanie laughed. Laughed!
The little human caught xer hand and gave it a squeeze. “I said some humans Avrex. Some. Most don’t experience severe pain. If it gets bad, it means that more than likely something else is wrong. Most of us wear special liners in our clothes or inserted into our bodies to catch the blood so we don’t get it all over the place. And we just go on with our daily routine. Grin and bear it. We’ll be alright.”
The first officer wasn’t convinced. “At least tell me that you have spoken to the medical officer about something to relieve the pain.”
She shook her head, holding up a hand to forestall xer protests. “Some women do. I don’t like using pain medication for something I can tough out. Humans have this thing, where we can slowly build up an immunity to certain drugs through prolonged use. I avoid pain medication so I don’t build up an immunity. That way, when I do need it I know it works really well. As soon as I realize my period is starting, I start drinking more water. The human body is about sixty percent water, and making sure that I’m properly hydrated speeds up the process and makes it hurt less. Instead of dealing with it for six to seven days, it only lasts three to four. Seriously Avrex, I’m fine, and I’ve got a handle on the rest of the symptoms. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Avrex felt as if xer head was spinning. “Other symptoms?”
The human bared her teeth in another smile. “Most of us get moody because our hormone level fluctuate a bit. It hits every woman a bit differently. Some women turn into a weepy mess. Me? I turn into a grouchy, irritable, cow who avoids everyone like the plague. Other women will get angry at the drop of a hat and bite the head off the nearest individual that annoys her.” She must’ve seen the look of shock and horror on xer face because she immediately backtracked. “Shit, not literally! I mean they just get overly aggressive, usually verbally.”
She waited for a second, to make sure xey understood, then went on.
“Aside from the moodiness it’s a grab bag of ways your period will affect you. Some people get cravings, some people get back pain, or their breasts”, she put her hands illustratively on the soft mounds on her chest to be sure that there wasn’t any miscommunication between them about what ‘breasts’ were, “get sore. Most of us get cramps in our lower abdomens right about here.” Again the illustrative touch, this time to a spot just below her belt. “Some of us have an increased sex drive, while others just want to roll themselves up in a blanket like a burrito, and a lot of us are fatigued. Every woman’s different.”
Avrex slowly shook xer head, completely dumbfounded by the sudden influx of information. “Is…is there anything you currently require? I know that Carl already asked, and you informed him that you were sufficiently prepared, but…”
Her face softened. “I’m fine Avrex. Really. I just…”
“Hey! Melanie! You gonna keep up with the men today, or are you gonna have a tea party with the dinosaur all day?”
Avrex almost responded.
Almost.
Instead, xey remained stationary, watching as a strange change came over the female before xem. Where before she had been timid and shy, at the sudden derogatory call from the newest of the five humans, a male named Dave, her face suddenly became calm and smooth as granite.
She slowly turned and cast a threatening, and yes Avrex was sure that this smile was definitely a threat, at Dave and the other male mechanic Josh. Josh had been the fourth human taken on, hired within days of Cal the security guard.
As Dave was the one who’d spoken, Melanie seemed to focus most of her attention on him. “Care to run that by me again smart mouth?”
Josh, older and more mature than Dave, seemed to understand the unspoken warning. “Dave…”
The younger human ignored him. “Ooh, someone woke up on the bitchy side of the bed this morning. What’s a matter sweet cheeks?” He made an expression that Avrex would later learn was called a leer. The male grabbed her by the arm. “Maybe you just need a little action to settle you down, yeah? How ‘bout it babe? I bet I can get that stick out of your ass. Hm? Maybe put something better…”
A large wrench whistled through the air and stopped within a micron’s breadth of the young human’s nose. It was easily the length of the male’s forearm, and had previously been occupying a loop on Melanie’s belt. He stared at it, cross eyed and pale, then looked at the diminutive little female who could’ve easily broken his nose if she’d had less control.
“What’s a matter?” She parroted the question back, voice tight and dark. “What’s a matter is that I started my day in a fountain of my own blood, and that’s how you’re going to end yours if you ever call me ‘sweet cheeks’, ‘babe’, or any other cutesy nickname again. And as for keeping up with you ‘men’, I’m already three days ahead of schedule. You’ve barely been on this ship a month and you’re already two weeks behind. So I’d say it’s you who aught to be keeping up with me, because it seems anything you can do I can do better and faster while bleeding.” Her dark eyes narrowed. “And lastly? If you ever lay hands on me again? I promise you, they will never find your body.”
She slid the wrench back into her belt, cast a respectful nod to Avrex, and calmly crawled back up into the machinery.
Dave stared after her for a long moment, then pointed. “Josh! Did you see what that bitch just…”
The older male cuffed him over the back of the head. “You’re an idiot. Never piss off something that bleeds for seven days a month and doesn’t die. I haven’t got to know her all that well yet, but Mel is worth ten of you. That woman works her ass off. If you ever go after her again, and she doesn’t kill you, you can bet that I will happily beat you black and blue!”
Avrex bared xer teeth, allowing a tiny warning growl to rumble deep inside xer barrel chest. The reptilian first officer slowly stood to xer full ten foot height, looming over the miscreant. “Consider yourself warned.”
An additional talk with Carl yielded a few ‘pearls of wisdom’ concerning ‘feminine’ needs.
With the thunderstruck captain’s blessing, Avrex ordered small metal receptacles installed in each of the public waste rooms on board at their next stop. Carl had suggested small boxes, but given the frequency of meteor showers and pirate attacks, evasive maneuvers were engaged fairly often. Avrex thought it better to have the receptacles affixed to the wall and a basic bolt lock placed on the lid so that the ‘feminine’ supplies wouldn’t be thrown around the waste rooms when the ship had to duck or roll suddenly.
Upon having the situation explained, the other alien members of the crew who hadn’t been released for shore leave were more than happy to help. They liked Melanie, and the discovery that she spent a week in pain each month and gave no outward sign was disconcerting to say the least.
Other changes included stain proof bedding, a heating pad, a new fluffy blanket, and a few earth sweets being slipped into her room.
Dave, the human who had harassed her, was not invited back to the ship.
Instead he was replaced with a male creylight from the Andromeda system. While not as small as the humans, he was still flexible enough to reach most of the components without taking a piece of the engine apart, and he was much stronger. The humans wouldn’t have to drag the lifting equipment out as often.
He was also made aware of how his predecessor had been fired for his disrespectful, inappropriate, and frankly downright threatening behavior towards Melanie.
The crew was not going to tolerate such treatment towards their favorite human.
Melanie nearly burst xer ear drums with her grateful calls upon returning from shore leave and discovering what xey had done.
She had been dreading coming back to work and having to deal with Dave. And then to find out he’d been fired, and to see what ‘sweethearts’ the rest of the crew had been…
As xey crouched down to receive the strongest ‘hug’ the little human could muster, Avrex couldn’t help but marvel at the change in her attitude. While she still treated Josh a little coolly, Melanie seemed much less guarded than she had before. She made friends with Cal, and Carl, and slowly started to get to know Josh. She was more outgoing while socializing with the rest of the crew. The timidity faded, an air of preparedness that the crew hadn’t even realized was there fell away. Leaving her relaxed and free. For the first time since she’d boarded the ship, she seemed truly happy.
She felt safe.
And Avrex couldn’t help but feel both saddened and enraged at how surprised she seemed that they would go out of their way to make her feel safe and comfortable. That she was so used to relying on no one but herself. So used to being stepped on and living in fear of the male half of her species taking advantage of her.
When the sorcerer found the dragon, it was attacking a grape.
This was only possible because the dragon was not much larger than a grape itself, but she still had to do a double take to be sure the object it was fighting with such animosity was in fact inanimate.
She crouched so that her eyes were level with the top of the table and squinted at it. The dragon sank its tiny fangs into the grape’s skin and gave a great tug, succeeding only in throwing it and the grape into a backwards tumble. The tiny green reptile rolled to a stop with its whole body wrapped around the grape and shook its head ferociously, managing to pull its teeth out but also launching the grape across the table. It gave a mighty roar of anger (about as loud as a human clearing their throat) and stalked after it, tail swishing dangerously.
“Do you need help?” she offered.
The dragon froze mid-prowl and whipped its head around to look at her, looking so offended she almost apologized for asking.
“I mean, I could peel it for you, if that’s the problem.” She wasn’t sure it was getting the message. One could never tell how much human language these little creatures picked up by hanging around the magic labs. Some understood only such essentials as “scat!” or “oh fuck, that sure did just explode”, while others could hold entire conversations — if they deigned to interact.
This one looked like it was deciding whether she was worthy. Finally, it sniffed daintily and flicked its tail, scales clacking together. “Little monster is my prey, and you can’t have it. Found it first. Will devour it!”
“Oh, sure,” she agreed. “But you know it’s a grape, right?”
This was the wrong thing to say. It glared at her and then bounded away to the other end of the table, where it slithered up to the grape and pounced on it.
Grape and dragon promptly rolled off the edge of the table.
The sorcerer quickly went around to that side, alarmed that it would be stepped on. The labs were bustling with shoppers stopping by to watch demonstrations this time of day, and a small dragon wouldn’t be easily visible on the blue and green tiled floor.
“Horrible! Dirty!” The tiny dragon was screeching at the top of its lungs, holding onto its prey for dear life. It would have been hard to hear anyway, with all the noise of the labs, but with the sorcerer’s diminished hearing it took several seconds to locate the screaming creature.
She scanned the pattern of the tiles for it and sighed. “Oh, hold on, we mopped this morning.” She cupped her hands around it and deposited it into her skirt pocket, an indignity the dragon endured only with more screaming.
“An outrage! Put me down!”
“Shh,” she advised. Lab workers were strongly discouraged from bringing creatures into the back rooms, which was where she was heading, picking her way through the crowded front lab.
“Fuck pockets!” her pocket responded.
“Oh, you can curse. Wonderful.”
The dragon seemed to take this as an actual compliment. “Am multitalented. Can also compose poetry.”
“Really? Can I hear some?”
“No. For dragon ears only.” It sounded viciously pleased to hold this over her head. The bulge in her pocket rearranged itself, and she thought it might be trying to gnaw on the grape.
She felt herself smiling even as she tried to squash her mouth into a straight line. She liked this little bad-tempered thing, even though its spiky feet were digging into her thigh.
In the much quieter kitchen of the back rooms behind the lab, she transferred the wriggling, scaly handful from her pocket to the table. The dragon hissed out a few more insults as it got up and straightened itself out, but its jaw fell open when it finally took in its surroundings. She’d set it down next to the fruit bowl.
“There you go. Food mountain.”
The dragon’s shock didn’t last long. Abandoning the grape, it scraped and scrabbled its way up the side of the bowl and from there onto an apple, its claws leaving tiny puncture marks as it hiked to the top of the arrangement. “Food mountain!” It repeated, its gleeful crowing much clearer and almost sing-song without having to compete with the noise of the crowd.
She watched it turn in a circle, surveying the feast. “But… cannot eat it all,” it observed after a while, crestfallen. “Human-sized. Big shame.”
“Don’t you have nest-mates who can help you with it?” she asked. She had assumed not, from the way it had apparently been foraging for food on its own, but she needed to be sure she’d found a loner.
“No nest. No mates. No nest-mates. You’re rude.” It flopped down ungracefully, wings spread out flat on the apple like it was trying to hug the entire much-larger fruit.
She gave it a moment to be dramatic, and then offered it the grape, minus the peel. “You seem to have a good grasp on human-speak.”
It grabbed the grape without so much as a thank you. “Yes. Have composed poetry in both Dragonese and Humanese. Not for humans to hear, though.” Bragging cheered it up a little.
“You mentioned. I can’t hear very well, anyway.” She pulled up a stool and sat down. “Actually, I’ve been looking for a helper.”
“An assistant,” it said, apparently showing off its Humanese. “An attendant. An aid.”
She watched it bury its snout in the grape, juice dribbling down onto the apple it sat on. “Yes. A hearing aid. How would you feel about having a job?”
It smiled craftily. “Would feel positively, if job comes with chocolate chips.”
“It could,” she said, grinning. She had some friends who employed bird-sized dragons as messengers, but this was the first time she’d heard of one negotiating its salary for itself. “It certainly could. What’s your name?”
“Peep,” said Peep. “It is self-explanatory.”
“Don’t worry, I got it.”
Peep expressed its doubt that humans ever got anything, but she thought the tiny, prickly creature might be warming up to her.
“hello,” the dark lord said, “i need a library card.”
“everyone needs a library card,” the librarian said brightly, sliding a form across the desk. “fill this out.”
the dark lord produced her own elaborated plumed quill from the depths of her robes and scrawled her name in handwriting that was completely illegible but seemed to whisper the secrets of the dark from the blinding white page. “yes, but i need mine in order to take over the tri-kingdom area.”
the librarian’s polite smile barely faltered. “funny, the last dark lord to try that didn’t bother with a card.”
“yes, and do you see that fool currently ruling our kingdom? no. of course not. utterly ridiculous, to attempt to take over any size country without a library card, much less an intermediate-sized one like this.” she accepted the thin plastic card with a gracious flourish of her gloved hand.
the librarian, adding the new card’s number to the database, privately agreed, but chose not to say anything.
the librarian balanced the pile of pulled books under one elbow and held the list of call numbers in their hand for easy consultation. “intermediate spell casting for grades three and four,” they murmured, running fingers along the peeling spines until they found it. “willing to bet that’s sorrel’s request.”
they fit the large, paperbound book under their elbow and moved on, checking the list again. “magical creatures encyclopedia, L through M. that’s jackaby trying to finish the entire set by midsummer.” they would get that one last to carry it around the shortest amount of time.
“next — the complete guide to raising the dead.” they paused in front of the row of shelves with the right call numbers. they could guess the requester of that one too, but knew better than to say it out loud.
the return slot thunked loudly as it swung open and closed, having swallowed the returned books with a wet gulp.
“good morning,” the dark lord said pleasantly as she looked up from sliding her books in — or as pleasantly as “good morning” could sound when it was uttered by a voice that sounded like gravel being chewed to pieces by the jaws of a large monster.
“it is, very,” the librarian said crisply, conjuring a clean handkerchief for the still-slobbering return slot.
the mouth just visible under the dark lord’s enormous cloak hood curved into a scythe’s blade smile, but she said nothing else.
“did you enjoy your books?” the librarian asked, since she wasn’t moving and there were no other people waiting (most likely because of the dark lord standing there).
the hood nodded up and down. “extremely. especially the taped lecture by doctor dramidius ardorius of the dark arts institute.”
“well, we have many more taped lectures. i especially recommend the one on the healing powers of tea.” they tilted their head in a now get out sign. the poor steam-powered self-checkout contraption would get overheated if people were too scared to check out at the front desk.
they didn’t really expect the dark lord to take the recommendation seriously, but the next day they noticed the cloaked, hooded specter glide out the door with the taped lecture on magic-infused herbal teas tucked between a CD of dark chants and a step-by-step art book on drawing occult symbols.
“you give good recommendations,” the dark lord said with a shrug when the librarian raised their eyes from the front desk’s computer to the shadows of her hood.
the librarian wasn’t sure what to say. “you seem to take up quite a lot of my time.”
“i’m only a simple library patron,” the dark lord replied in a saintly voice that resembled a dragon coughing up a partially digested house. “do you enjoy mermaid song?”
“yes. you can find the library’s collection in the CD section over there.” they looked pointedly back down at the computer.
“i hear there’s a concert on the shore tomorrow evening.”
“perhaps we’ll get a recording of it.”
the dark lord continued taking out books on various unsavory topics. the librarian continued suggesting books on healing, positive thinking, and community service. the dark lord seemed more amused with each visit. her smile was almost charming, when you got past the long, sharp teeth.
the librarian was trying to go about their usual morning ritual of pulling books that had been requested the night before, but the dark lord wouldn’t stop making faces at them from behind gaps in the shelves. she seemed to find it hilarious. the librarian hadn’t decided yet if they were amused or annoyed.
“ooh, look at this,” the dark lord said, pulling a sturdy but beaten up board book featuring a werewolf mid-transformation on the cover from the shelf. “this was my favorite when i was just a little menace.”
“somehow i’m not surprised.”
the dark lord tucked the book into the ridiculous basket made of a large skull that floated alongside her. “didn’t you have a favorite picture book when you were little?”
“Barker the Sentient Book End,” the librarian said promptly. “i screamed for it every night until someone read it to me, long after i’d already memorized each page.”
the dark lord cooed, sounding like a cross between an owl and something eating an owl. “adorable. i knew you had a little monster in you somewhere.”
the librarian crossly debated denying being a monster at all or pointing out they had actual kraken blood in them.
they should have guessed how close the dark lord was from how good her mood was, but it wasn’t until they arrived at work on monday that the librarian heard the news.
“the newest dark lord managed to overthrow the faeyrie monarchy last night. something about combining traditional herbal spells with a newfangled mental magic based on the power of willful thinking… or something. the news reporter mentioned the use of mermaid song in a mild kind of mind control, i think? i wasn’t listening. the good news is, our budget stays in place.”
the librarian contemplated hurling the can of bookmarks across the room, but concluded that it would be both unprofessional and unsatisfying. they settled for aggressively stamping returned, only slightly saliva-covered books with red ink.
the phone clicked loudly. “public library, how can i help you?”
“by taking my offer,” the dark lord said, slightly hesitant voice like a rock slide that wasn’t sure it was ready to slide. “the royal library in the capital needs a new head librarian.”
“why’s that?” the librarian spun in their new swivel chair, tangling the phone cord while they were at it, thinking they wouldn’t want to leave so soon after getting it.
there was a cough like the ocean spitting out a new island. “erm, hmm, last one got… eaten. tragic. these things happen when you’re very, very small, you know.”
“so i’ve heard.” the librarian stretched the phone cord and watched it bounce back. “well, i’m happy where i am.”
“well.” her voice was more disappointed than they’d expected. “it’s a very nice library, you know. large selection of mermaid song in the CD section.”
“the royal library is part of our system. i can request any materials from there that i want to be delivered here.”
a pause. the dark lord had not considered this. “well, maybe i’ll take the royal library out of the system.”
“you wouldn’t dare disrupt the workings of our very intricate library system set up at the dawn of time.”
“maybe i would!”
“no.”
“fine. i wouldn’t.”
the librarian swiveled some more, wrapping the cord around with them until it ran out of give and spun them in the other direction. “would you like to grab a coffee sometime?”
“yes,” the dark lord said, voice too surprised to resemble anything in particular. “i can travel down meet you tomorrow morning.”
“don’t you have things to do?”
they could sense the shrug from the other end of the line. “i’ll move the capital to your town. i can do that, you know. i’m the supreme ruler of the tri-kingdom area.”
“yes,” the librarian agreed, un-spinning to return the phone to its cradle. “just don’t forget who gave you the library card.”
imagine a rosario vampire kind of setting, where a human winds up at a monster school. except the monsters all know they’re a human. maybe they’re part of a new “monster/human friendly relations” project. everyone is pretty cautious about causing an incident, so they’re treading lightly around the human. but the human doesn’t even bat an eye at the strange stuff that goes on, so the monster kids gradually become more relaxed around them.
here’s the thing. the human doesn’t actually realize they’re at a monster school. they’re basically the living embodiment of “staying in their lane”. they see strange monster things happening and they’re like “huh. well that’s none of my business” and just go about their day
so the monsters think the human knows what’s up and doesn’t care. the human thinks they’re at a weird but ultimately normal human school. then the human sees something so explicit that they can’t help but connect the dots, like a werewolf transforming right in front of them. the human screams, the werewolf yelps, everyone else starts screaming too. there’s lots of confusion all around.
eventually they all figure out what happened. then the human’s friends start quizzing them on how the hell they never noticed.
“the werewolves literally walk around with their ears and tails out.” “I thought they were just furries okay?!”
“but the vampires drink blood at lunch! only blood! they don’t eat!” “listen, even goths can be insecure about their weight. it’s not my business if they want to go on a weird tomato juice diet.” “I guess that explains why you hugged Travis and told him he was beautiful the way he is that one time.”
“there are fairies in our math class. they have wings.” “*shrug* theater kids are weird.”
“Ynolk’ku is the offspring of an eldritch abomination. the whispers of the dead follow xem wherever xe go. are you saying you never heard that?” “I figured it was just really loud creepy music playing from xer headphones.”
“centaurs. harpies. nagas.” “okay I know I already said furries, but really committed furries.”
“Cindy is a sasquatch and she’s covered in fur.” “who am I to tell a girl to shave?”
“the dryads wear clothes made out of living plants.” “aesthetic or death.”
a D&D setting there the sole human rolls nothing but 1s to notice the rest of the world
You’re a mystic who runs a shop full of mysterious artifacts and potions and you’re sick of uninformed middle-aged suburban moms asking for energy crystals and herbal weight-loss mixtures while throwing around made-up terms.
When a middle-aged woman rolled into my shop and told me she
was looking for ichor, I didn’t think much of it at first.
You get all kinds in a shop like mine, and doubly so when
you put up the right signs on your door.
The signs that let certain kinds of people know they’re welcome, not
just the collectors or the curious or the new age mystics, looking for this
root or that crystal or wanting to gawk at a jar of old bones, but the less
innocuous individuals as well. The kind
who mean business when they come looking for their… less run-of-the-mill
specialities.
You’re a powerful dragon that lived next to a small kingdom. For centuries you ignored humanity and lived alone in a cave, and the humans also avoided you. As the kingdom fell to invaders, a dying soldier approaches you with the infant princess, begging you to take care of her.
“cool,” you say, picking a bone from your teeth. it’s a power move you saw on VHS, but it actually just makes your gums kind of hurt. feels like ripping a popcorn kernel out.
around you, the abandoned subway is dripping. your horde of slightly-used-but-still-good Items Of Debatable Usage shifts under the scales of your tail.
“so, like, how did you find me, again?” you curl your tail up, around, through the air. the soldier looks bad, but you also don’t want him to die on your rug because you just got that cleaned. it’s really sixty rugs sewn together and to be honest? talk about a cleaning charge. used to be a dragon’s promise was worth something in this world.
you weren’t listening. “then she sent me here to you,” the man is saying.
you curl your tail around a handkerchief and pass it to him to clean up his blood. when it lands on him, you realize you’ve sort of erred. it is not a kerchief. it is a full king-sized sheet that is a replica from the set of the That’s 70′s Show. you’ve never seen an episode.
“she?” you taste the pronoun in your mouth. “let me guess. tall, green-black hair, very like a snake, but like, in a way that feels sort of human. like if a human was being a snake more than if a person was snake-ish.”
the soldier, with his one free arm, is trying to wrap parts of the sheet around his wounds. he barely nods. it’s kind of rude he’s so distracted.
you appraise him. “she didn’t like you,” you say, and hop off the ledge you’re lurking on. you feel graceful usually, but the smallness of this man makes you feel sort of crowded. like if you walk the wrong way you’ll squish him.
he coughs into his hand. the baby is fussing. “she… what? how do you know?”
“sent you the hard way,” you say, “quest and everything.”
you sniff downwards. the baby is absolutely Royalty, capital R. smells like a future princess. smells like hidden-in-a-wood. you smell again. actually, maybe it’s a tower. she smells like a tower princess.
maybe he thinks that you’re gonna eat her, because he wraps her tight against his chest. he smells like not-related, but absolutely sworn-to-protect. ugh.
you swipe your tail. clear off a space, dive in your claw. fish around. pluck out what is not a crib (cribs are useful) but instead a race car bed that has high enough walls it could convince itself to be a crib. “plop her down,” you say, “she’ll be safe here.”
“how do i know?” his voice is scratchy.
“call her,” you say, “call steph.”
he doesn’t move. you roll your eyes. “ugh. is she still going by that name? call The Witch of Night”. a name, which, not that it matters, you suggested to her about six eons ago. now it’s more like “One of the Several Witches Of New York City And Surrounding Boroughs.”
“i trust her,” he says, “i don’t trust you. how do you two even…?”
“she’s punishing me,” you say, because honestly! when is she not! she has no idea what a prank is supposed to look like! “this is to remind me that i belong in a Tale, and i escaped, and it totally ruined a Very Good Spell.”
he’s staring at you. his eyes are glassy. he stumbles. you edge the racecar bed closer. he puts the baby in it and she hushes, which you take to be a good sign. you rock it gently with your tail. if you took care of her (which, you won’t, obviously) you’d have to do some Small Magic and turn human for a while, even though you always feel kind of tiny and weak in human bodies. it would make it easier to hold and carry and take outside this little bundle of joy. no, not joy. Royalty.
“dragons are supposed to die in Tales,” you say, “and i didn’t die, clearly.” you begin to hunt for something that can function as a bottle. “major disappointment for all involved, myself included, trust me.”
the man drops to his knees. you suck in your breath between your teeth. he flinches like he expects flames, which is kind of hurtful. if you had wanted to eat him, you would have just done that already. but really, barbecue in front of a baby? even dragons have morals.
“ugh,” you say, and you pull out your old talking stone you can’t afford (Verizon has great coverage for hidden supernatural beasts, but really, at what cost) “hang on.”
the phone rings about two whole times. your heart always flutters, just a little, because it’s her on the other end. “sophie?” you ask.
“yeah?” her voice holds a smile in it.
“steph sent me another baby,” you say. you meanwhile pull what-is-not-a-rattle out of the pile and shake it for the girl. “the guy who brought it, is, like… toast.”
he looks pale.
“not literal toast,” you amend, “absolutely could be worse.”
“i keep telling her,” sophie sighs, “we’re not ready.”
“she’s just excited,” you say placidly. it’s not good to speak ill of your inlaws.
“how much longer for the guy?”
you sniff. “uh, forty minutes, tops. how fast can you get him to the hospital?”
“oh, twelve with traffic.” in the background, you hear her moving, already on her way, her keys jingling.
“what do we do with … uh Recent Acquisition.” you tickle the baby with a tail. it giggles and it sounds like bells. you roll your eyes. absolutely Royalty, kind-as-kittens, pure-of-heart, some-bullshit-yet-to-be-written. you want to snuggle with her, which is just completely unbecoming of a dragon.
“i’m going to kill her,” sophie says, “what kind of baby?”
“tower princess.” you gently push the man and his blood off your rug. ugh. he’s moaning and groaning, so you tell him, “dude i’m on the phone.”
he’s going to be fine. sophie never met someone she couldn’t heal. she healed up the big old wound that was your heart, after all, cleaned it out and patched it up and made you whole. and she’d done that literally a few times, too. your Day Witch. the dawn star of your heart.
there’s a little laugh. “remember our tower?”
“babe,” you say, “how can i forget.” you look over to the Dying Man on his Final Quest. you offer him a partially-burned cellphone and mouth call who you need to. you need to say it a few times, because he isn’t good at reading dragon lips.
“sorry about steph,” sophie sighs. “she just wants to be an aunt.”
there’s kind of a pause and sophie adds, gently, in a way that your heart breaks to hear, “and maybe …. i kind of told her i wanna be a mom.”
sure, steph is much nicer since six eons ago when she went through a totally-edgy there-can-only-be-one-powerful-twin phase (and really, aren’t we all like that as teenagers), but as an aunt? she’s not like sophie, who is kind and gentle and good and whole and has loved you in any form you choose, who has held your claw when your cried and shined your scales and sorted your Horde and helped you find new bodies and helped you escape a Tale (her Tale too) and who ran off with you and survived, and thrived, and lived in a world that forgot magic, and live, and love, and watch lots of netflix, which, along with vaccines, is your absolute favorite New Era thing.
but anyway. what if steph goes dark again. what if you forget to invite her to the birthday party or it gets lost in the mail and lo and behold, eternal sleep. what if she don’t like how the baby speaks and decides Toads For Tongues. what if she goes through the whole mirror-mirror bullshit. not with your baby.
your baby. is this, like, your baby now?
“i kinda,” the words feel so Right. like Tale kinds of Right. like somehow when he showed up he wasn’t finishing his quest but starting yours. the baby laughs again and you realize: she doesn’t sound like bells. she sounds normal, you just already love her, “i kinda wanna be a mom too.”
A Beauty and the Beast AU where Belle realizing she loves Beast isn’t at some dramatic climactic event but during some randome everyday moment. Like, she’s filing her nails and just kinda glances up at him and he’s like doing something just as dull and it just kinda dawns on her that she loves him but she doesn’t voice it cause she isn’t exactly ready to confront thoes emotions and what they mean so she goes back to filing her nails but then is starts raining glitter and Beast is defying gravity in a glowing ball of light and the castle is changing back and everyone becomes human again. Then everyone is left in silent moment of shock and confusion and Belle, being completely unaware of what it takes to break the curse, is just staring around in horror while everyone freshly humanized comes running into whatever room she and Beast were in (probably the library) expecting to see something other than human Beast in a heap on the ground and Belle across the room in a chair frozen in shock and confusion and everyone just kinda looks at each other for a couple of seconds not realy sure what to say cause nobody is entirely sure what happened other than the curse was broken. Then Beast finaly gets up and looks around and realizes what this means and looks at Belle and is just like “you love me?” And Belle is just like “wat?”
ALTERNATELY: Belle falls in love slowly. As a result, Beast turns back into a human slowly. She overhears him singing in the shower (it’s amazing how old pipes echo) and realizes it’s that song she was trying to teach herself on the piano (okay, that the piano was teaching her). It’s sweet and mundane, and lovely. Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Beast is humming nervously as he looks at the fur clogging the drain. He thought at least he’d be free of male pattern balding since he’s cursed! Later, Belle gets a cold, and Beast brings her soup and sandwiches, and she curses at him because how dare he have such a hearty immune system, and he chuckles and leaves it. After he’s gone, she notices he cut the grilled cheese on the diagonal, crusts off, exactly right. Beast, downstairs, trips and falls, because the sudden lack of toe-claws threw off his balance.
And so on and so forth, so slowly she doesn’t really see it, she just assumes her memories were colored by her fear. Until one day, as he goes out to tend his roses, she yells “Bye, love you!” and when he comes back in, all excited, she nearly beans him with an encyclopedia, because “WHAT THE FUCK, WHO ARE YOU?” and Beast is just “You seriously didn’t notice me turning back into a human? You are so smart… and SO DUMB, I BEEN NEARLY DYING EVERY TIME, WHY DO I LOVE YOU, YOU BEAUTIFUL DISASTER WOMAN!”
Your wife changes her hair color every season and her personality adjusts slightly. You’re secretly only in love with Autumn wife. She just came home sporting her Winter color.
it’s my fault. it’s just that when we met it was autumn; her red-orange hair and crackling laughter. there’s a little spooky in her, a lot of play. and what a better time for falling?
i didn’t realize it for the first few years – something shifting, something so subtle. the winter makes us all cold, the summer makes us all a little out of our minds. i just loved her, because she was incredible, and i was the luckiest person alive.
it’s just that i realized that spring came with sudden bursts of cold. it’s just that summer frequently raged in with fire sprouting from her lips. it’s just that winter was the worst of all, her eyes dead. it’s just that autumn loves me different; throws herself into it without the clingy sweat of summer. i used to love that summer girl, you know? i loved how wild she was, the way in summer she took every risk she could. but i carried her home drunk one too many times, cleaned up one too many of the messes she made for no reason than to enjoy the sensation of burning. and winter was worse; the shutdown, the isolation. how she became distant, a blizzard, caught up in her own head, unable to tell me what was wrong and unable to think i actually wanted to listen.
she comes home, her hair bleached white. a dark smile on her lips. the shadowy parts of her are back. they loom like icicles overhead. she kisses me with her body held at a distance, a peck on my cheek that feels like an iceberg. she makes polite conversation and we go to bed early, our bodies untouching.
it is a lonely season, i think on the ninth day of this. winter is cold. winter is known for the death of things. when i look at her, i see the girl i fell for, inhabited by an alien. she was the first women i loved so much i felt it would kill me. i can’t leave. when i wake her up with my crying, she tells me to shush and go back to sleep. she’s different like this, quiet, doesn’t eat.
three days later i stare at myself in the mirror. i wonder if it’s me. if the fat on my body or something in my face or the wrinkles and she doesn’t love me. i try prettier lingerie, lean cuisine, i try different hair, more makeup, try harder. it doesn’t work. she looks at me the same; that empty gaze that neither loves nor condemns my actions.
somewhere in februrary i lose it. we’re fighting again, from car to restaurant to car to home again. we fight about stupid things, small things; i tell her i feel she doesn’t love me, she says i’m not listening. the circle goes around and around, old pain peeling back, new pain unhealing. i sleep on the couch.
i wake up when i hear her crying, white hair around her all messed up. the kind of sobbing that only comes at two in the morning, heavy and thick and hurting. my winter girl. my heart is breaking. she looks up at me like i’m her anchor. “i’m sorry i’m like this,” she says. and i start saying, it’s okay i’m here we’re married, but she just shakes her head and says, “I know this isn’t the real me.”
i hold her cold hand. she stares at the blankets. “i am different in winter,” she whispers, “i know i am and i’m sorry.” she looks at me. “why do you think i dye my hair? cut it off? get rid of the old me?”
i tell her it’s okay. we’re together and it’s okay, and then she whispers, “i’m sorry you married four of me.”
we lay there like that, her head on my chest. she falls asleep. i stare at the ceiling, thinking of the way she sounded when she was crying. how i helped put her in that pain. how i promised in sickness and in health and everything in between.
the next day i spend at the library. there aren’t enough books on how to love someone with seasonal affective disorder so i make my own, notes and pages and little ideas on post-its. and i take a deep breath and make myself a promise.
she comes home to her favorite dinner and we kiss and she’s uneasy but that’s okay. the next day i bring home flowers and the next day she finds little love notes in her pockets. i love her quiet, the way winter demands, understand her sex drive is faltering; spend more time just cuddling. we drink wine and we kiss and some part of her starts relaxing.
the truth is there is no loving someone out of their mental illness. the truth is that you can love someone in despite of it; love them loud enough to give them an excuse to believe they can make their way out of it.
and i learn. i remember the rebirth of spring, when she starts thawing. we kiss and have picnics in pretty dresses. i remember her joy at little birds and her rain dancing. i fall in love with the flowers in her cheeks and the little bursts of cleaning. i fall in love with summer’s slow walks and milkshakes and shouting to music playing too loud on the speakers. i fall in love with her dancing, with the sunfire energy. and when winter comes; i am ready. i remember that snow used to look pretty. i fall in love with the hearth of her, with the holiday, with the slow smile that spreads across her face so shyly. i fall in love with how she looks in boots and mittens and every day i find another reason to love her the way she deserves – they way i always should have.
she comes home with her white hair and dark smile and a package in her hands. i ask to see what it is and that small shy grin comes creeping out. it’s a sunlamp packed in with medication. she looks at me with those wide eyes and that beautiful winter blush. “i’m trying to get better,” she whispers, “i promise.”
recovery doesn’t look immediate. sometimes it isn’t neat. i can’t say we never fight or that we’re suddenly complete. but each day, that tiny girl’s strength gives me another reason. i love her. i love her while she tames the roller coaster of spring; i love her for reigning in the summer storms; i love her for taking her winter and trying to be warm. it is hard, because everything worth it is hard. she spreads out her autumn leaves; mixes the best parts of her into everything. learns to take winter’s silence for a moment before yelling in summer. learns to take autumn’s spice and give it to spring. we are both learning.
one day she comes home and her hair is different, but it’s a style i don’t know. i kiss it and tell her that she’s beautiful and the inside of me swells like a flood. i’m so glad that she’s mine. every part of her. the whole. i am the luckiest person on earth. and i always have been. but she’s hugging me and saying, “thank you for helping me,” and i can’t explain why i’m crying.
this is what love is; not always an emotion but rather your actions. the choices we make when we realize our lives would be empty if the other was absent. this is what love is: letting them grow, helping them find their way in out of the cold. this is what love is: sometimes it takes work to see how the thing you planted together actually grows.
this is what love looks like in an autumn girl: it is winter and she glows.
I’m actually sobbing jesus christ
my heart is aching??? this is gorgeous
Wow. Worth the read, don’t scroll.
This is everything.
Everything about how to love.
I was not prepared
Nor was I.
“this is what love is; not always an emotion but rather your actions. the choices we make when we realize our lives would be empty if the other was absent. this is what love is: letting them grow, helping them find their way in out of the cold. this is what love is: sometimes it takes work to see how the thing you planted together actually grows.”
Honestly, if you scrolled… Go back up and read it.
I’ve read this again and again, and it just wrecks me every time.
This is beyond beautiful. Thanks for doing this prompt @inkskinned
Question of Smoke 