Merry Christmas From the End of the World

This is a $25 commission and criminally late, but I just started work this week, and I'm still getting used to it.

*~*~*~*~*

The world ended in May.  Well, that wasn't completely accurate.  There were still people, the world still existed, so it was much more accurate to say that western civilization ended in May.  For three days, people kept trying to go to work and school, kept trying to live their life as if the world hadn't changed.  After a week, the looting began, everyone stealing everything from local stores, even stuff they couldn't used anymore, like computers and televisions.

Then came the parties.  For weeks, every corner smelled like food cooking, over gas generators and handmade fires, barbecue grills, anything anyone could cook anything on, they did.  Everyone ate and drank, shared, fucked, fought, and while there were a few people advocating restraint, everyone agreed that cooked meat would probably keep better than raw meat, that unrefrigerated fruits and vegetables would go bad if they weren't eaten or somehow preserved in jams, pickled, that sort of thing.

People who knew how to do that sort of thing stepped forth to offer their services, taught anyone who wanted to learn.  People who knew how to make jerky, they did the same.  People who could hunt scoured the nearby bastions of wilderness for more food, because eventually the bounty of the mall would wear out.

After two months, people began to run out of prescription medicines.  Many were violently ill, became depressed or suicidal or violent.  Others were re-exposed to pain that medicine had been protecting them from, sometimes after years of not feeling it, and some people just got annoying.  Some survived, others didn't.  The deaths sobered everyone, as people realized that civilization as they knew it was really over.  They had to make a new one.

Adeidra was blessed to find herself turned to as one of the leaders.  She was wheelchair-bound, and some clever bastard had attached solar panels to her chair to charge the battery, as well as rigging it so that it charged itself a bit as it moved.  The young woman had sheepishly confessed to Adeidra that it had taken a lot of tries to get it right.

Adeidra was shocked how much people came together, how the boys came together to run interference on that one kid who was off his medicine and kept muttering at the girls about re-population, how teens and people with adult children watched the babies, to give the parents time to breathe, sleep, mourn, whatever they needed to do.

Yeah, there were the kids who went off into abandoned movie theaters to fuck, the adults too, and people who menaced others with weaponry, guns and knives, over stale popcorn and old ramen, people who tried to turn everything into a competition it didn't need to be, but everyone just left those people to their own devices.  They'd figure it out or they wouldn't, but either way, they didn't need those people.

She'd feared it would turn out like every zombie movie, her twin daughters making nervous Walking Dead jokes, but people came together.  Humans were social animals, and there were many lonely people who just didn't want to be alone, everyone gathering at churches, school gymnasiums, the middle of picked-clean stores, anywhere there was space to be, to talk, bond, learn.  Everyone had a theory about what had happened, where they were all going from there, but noone knew.  Not really.

But it was getting cold.  Adeidra had Roshona and Samantha prepare to leave.  They wouldn't be able to manage in a Chicago winter.  They were city women, born and bred, and it was just easier to travel south, where it would be warmer and there would be more plants and animals to find and hunt.  Adeidra wasn't the only one, and she'd actually gotten the idea from other women.  She hadn't been difficult to convince.  Most people weren't.

They got news from the south.  South Carolina, to be precise.  They were doing things down there.  California, too, and Florida and Texas.  Most of the southern states with access to water were doing things, people were gathering and making civilization.  People thrived and worked.  Noone wanted to suffer and die.

There were something like a thousand people left where Adeidra and her girls were, most of the others having fled to other states, other family and friends earlier in the year.  And the ones who died.  But Adeidra tried not to think of those ones so hard.  Everyone began packing up, doing what they could, and soon everyone was ready to migrate.  They lost people as they went, some people choosing to go to Florida, California, Texas, for pretty much the same reason Adeidra pointed her family at South Carolina.  They had family there.

They also gained people as they traveled, also migrating south for the winter, or because they'd heard there was civilization, or simply because a huge group of people was passing through, and they didn't want to be left alone.

Adeidra had no idea how many of the group from Chicago made it to South Carolina, but she and her girls made it, along with Rudy, their dog, worth his weight in food for being able to brighten their moods, even if he wasn't precisely the best guard dog in the world.  They had just crossed the North Carolina-South Carolina, camped for the night, when a young woman, about Roshona and Samantha's age, began moving through the group, pushing a grocery cart full of leaves wrapped in red ribbon.

Adeidra had no idea what the gal was doing, but she kept showing people her wrist.  As she came closer, it became clear she had a watch.  It hadn't even been a year since civilization ended, of course watches would still work.  When she reached the Jenkins family, she passed out small sprigs of what smelled like mint, wrapped in red ribbon.  Mint was so nice, it tasted good, and it made water taste cooler.

Then she wished the quartet a Merry Christmas, to their mutual bemusement.  A quick check of the woman's watch revealed that yes, it was December 24.  Christmas Eve, but still.  It was startling, thinking of life only a year before.  But she had her daughters, who were alive and well enough, and a shining future ahead of them.  She couldn't complain.

Champion 3

First Chapter
Previous Chapter

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When you wanted information, the best place in any kingdom to find it was the library in the holy academy.  When you didn't have a disciple of Yorn to escort you through a library large enough to contain a copy of every book that had ever been written, the second best place was the royal library.

This was where Lillian was, deeply ensconced in the Elyia Royal Library, poring over medical texts from the last three centuries, written by disciples of Clio and disciples of Yorn alike.  Only in the medical field were texts written by disciples of Yorn more interesting than texts written by disciples of either Lady or any of the Sisters.  Lillian's eyes were swimming, and her head ached.

Unfortunately, she'd yet to find what she was looking for.  Well, that wasn't completely accurate.  There was a lot of information about religious accidents.  Most were the normal sort: a disciple not noticing, or ignoring the fact that she no longer bore her tattoos of office and suffering injury for it, misuse of religious magic, and anything caused by the mixing of secular and religious magic.

But the recent trend was nothing like that.  She had green-wristed disciples of Runal with vegetables growing through them and somehow mesmerizing people, disciples of Yorn getting hurt, disciples of Clio dying of illness and injury.  This was not normal, and it was frightening, not only for the disciples who could no longer depend on their magic, but for the general populace, who could not come to the disciples in times of trouble.

The only thing Lillian could think was that there had to be some sort of precedence for this, maybe during the Great War, but she couldn't find any understandable answer.  Signs seemed to point to a time in history when the Ladies and Sisters abandoned humanity, but that made no sense.  They depended on humanity.  Collective faith gave them their power, and their power ensured faith.  That was how it worked.

Lillian naturally pursued that line anyway, just in case it lead her anywhere, but all she could find was a fairytale derived from an atrociously-mutilated journal detailing the battle of unnamed women known only as the "Disciple" and the "Champion" against a villain known as the "Untouched."  Everyone knew the fairytale about the untouched, whose impossible birth set them against the holy women who looked over the planet of Johse.

The journal revealed that the untouched supposedly had a much closer relationship with the disciple and champion than the fairytale intimated, but the condition of the tale, with large chunks missing at critical junctures, was the reason the personal journals making up a large portion of the holy library were in a constant state of being copied and recopied.  Lillian very seriously considered throwing the book.  It would do absolutely no good, but it would make her feel better about having discovered nothing usable.

She didn't do that, but she did slam the book shut, roughly grabbing the other books scattered over the table she'd been sitting at all morning, and all day the last five days.  She needed a break, she decided as she found herself slamming books into ever-growing piles.  She would give a lot to have the white line across her forehead that would allow her access to the holy library, or at least someone who had the line, but anyone who might escort her was either at the Hilean ceremony, providing their protection and assistance, or too far from the royal palace to be much immediate help.

"Wow, it's not even midday and you're already angry at the books.  What did they do to you?"

Lillian looked up at the sound of Maya's incredulous voice, and her day was already better, if a bit more confusing.  Lillian and Maya, in spite of both working on the royal grounds, rarely saw each other during the day, and even when they did, Maya was always in her armor, because taking it off and putting it back on again was far too much of a hassle.

Seeing Maya in a plain shirt and serviceable pants, sword belt rakishly thrown over her shoulder, was an unexpected delight for Lillian.

"Maya!  What are you doing here?  Don't you have trainees to terrorize?"  There was a book on the other side of the table, just beyond Lillian's fingertips, and Maya pushed the heavy tome closer with a fond chuckle.

"Not for the rest of the day.  Ritual, remember?"

Oh, the Hileans were working up some magic outside, weren't they?  Breathing on the training grounds probably felt like breathing oatmeal.  But then again, Maya was a bit more resilient than Lillian, and Jettas' disciples had to be tougher in general, so Lillian's brow furrowed, "I figured you'd just work through it."

Maya shrugged, "I can handle it, but the girls were having a lot of trouble.  Besides, aren't you at all curious what they're up to over there?"

"Not particularly."

Maya arched a brow at Lillian and smirked, "You are lying."

Lillian was nosy by nature, curious about most things, and yes, she was totally lying.  She laughed in response to Maya's declaration, making neat piles of her books, "I am completely lying, being that I am terribly jealous you get to go and I don't."

"Who says you don't get to go?"

Lillian paused midmotion, then squinted at Maya, "What did you do?"

"Besides scaring Shannon into growing flowers?"

"Dammit, Denice told her that spell wasn't going to come out right, no matter how she mixed it."

"That's roughly what Denice told me, too."

If Maya had been to the medical wing in search of Lillian, and spoken to Denice, Denice might have given Lillian leave to go see the ritual.  Lillian pushed the table away from her heavy, comfortable chair and slid her finger up her belt as she got up, moving closer to the gleeful Maya.

"...what else did Denice tell you?"

"That you were investigating the recent rash of religious accidents?"

"Maya!"

Maya laughed and threw an arm about Lillian's shoulder, pulling her along, "She said she wants you to take notes."  Lillian groaned deeply, flopping into the still-laughing Maya.  The only thing Lillian hated more than reading notes written by those who served her Sister were writing them herself.  So much detail.  Down to color, every subtle move.  She'd barely get to watch the ceremony for writing.

"I hate you both."

"That's a lie."

"It is not!"

"That's a lie, too."

By the time the pair reached the library doors, Lillian was throwing her arms everywhere, dramatically flopping all over Maya as the smaller woman laughingly pulled her along, "Yes, it's lies!  Lies, lies, all of it!  I don't hate you or Denice, but oh my god, note-taking!  Mayaaa!"

Ok, she was whining now, but Maya was laughing at her, only half sympathetically, "I know, I know, notes are terrible and distressing and frustrating."

"And I don't wanna!"

"And you don't wanna," sniggered Maya, still pulling Lillian down the halls, heading for the amphitheater where the Hileans were bound to be working their magic.

"You don't sound very sympathetic," complained Lillian, opening the door so that Maya could pull her through it.

"I am very sympathetic to your made-up problem and overdramatic whining."  Lillian didn't even have to see Maya's blue hair go muddy, like dye washing away, to know that Maya was lying through her laughing teeth.

"Liiiiiiar."

"That was definitely a lie."

"Urgh."  They'd made it out of the palace, and the air was thicker than Lillian had expected, even coming in that morning, the sun high and hot, adding to the oppressive atmosphere.  It really did feel like trying to breathe oatmeal, and she was already exhausted.  She definitely didn't want to be clinging to Maya, who'd already had a hard morning of training in this.

"It wasn't this bad when I came in," Maya assured Lillian, leading the way along the path, people parting for the blue hair, now restored to its vibrant glory by confessing her joking lie, "Or I would have canceled training today.  This is bad."

Lillian felt jittery and tingly, like she wanted to escape her skin in a very intense way.  She hoped the ritual didn't take very long, or she was going to have a panic attack, and she probably wouldn't be the only one.

"Lillian."

Lillian almost crashed into Maya's back as Maya stopped, and she easily sidled around Maya, uneasy smile on her face, "Sorry, I'm with you.  It's getting to me."

"Should we get something to eat?"

Lillian shook her head, "We're already not going to have the greatest view, let's just get in there."

Maya offered her hand, and Lillian took it, squeezing tightly as they continued into the amphitheater, which was a sea of golden robes.  Lillian didn't know why Hileans liked uniforms so much.  They had their marks of office, like every other disciple, Hileans' marks being yellow handprints on their arms, halfway between the wrist and elbow.  The robes covered that.

She could see other disciples, purple-necked disciples of Clio and red-lipped Loliens, armored disciples of Jettas playing guard, their blue hair vividly bright in a sea of darker colors, most serious-faced, a few joking with one another.

There were even some members of the general populace, but they were few and far between, simply due to the sheer density of the air.  They were smart and went away from places where it was difficult to breathe.  But that was neither here nor there.  The important thing was that the royal Hileans were in the center of the room on a dias around a mirror, one which flickered, like a light rod at the end of its existence, and there were a lot of people in a small space.

Maya managed to get them seats close to the dias, on the side where the light flickered.  It looked like Lady Torina, was the focal person for this spell, all the other Hileans would concern themselves with funneling energy to her, and her vision would bring forth....whatever.

Lillian gathered her skirt behind her knees and slowly slid her finger down her belt, making sure to position herself over her seat properly before letting herself drop into it.  And she was to Maya's right.  Yes.  She wanted to be able to keep holding Maya's hand, after all, and she leaned closer to Maya, "Do you really think they'll be able to summon the champion of lore?"

"I think they're going to try."

Lillian tried to elbow Maya in the arm and got pushed off with a laugh, "I don't know, Lillian, what  do you want me to say?  Noone thought the queen would ever be a man, but he is.  They have enough energy to make a lot of things happen.  Why not the champion?"

"But what if it's not the real champion?  How will anyone know?  What if the champion is peacefully dead and resents them bringing her forth?  What if they summon a berserker whose only concern is subjugating us all to her will?  Or a clever demon with similar aims?"

"For one," chuckled Maya, "Demons don't exist anymore.  And for two, there's lots of us here.  Do you see the sea of blue hair?  All the white foreheads?  We'll help deal with anything that arises.  Now shush, I think she's ready."

Sure enough, the image of the High Lady was on the face of the mirror, and Torina spoke, her voice booming throughout the room, with the assistance of a bit of magic, "And now we begin."

The golden-robed Hileans all began muttering their prayer, chanting Torina's name to focus energy towards, and the air began to feel less oppressive as the gathered energy was poured towards Torina, who was already beginning to sweat and turn coppery in the face, the mirror glowing a bright, distinct yellow.

Lillian had no idea how long they all watched and listened to the swelling voices, overlapping and intertwining.  To Lillian's astonishment, a hand came out of the mirror, fingers curiously reaching, followed by a very human arm farther and farther, almost up to the shoulder.  A startled murmur rippled from the people close enough to see it, spreading up the crowd and disrupting the Hileans, as even they stopped chanting to marvel at the sight.

The mirror's light dimmed, and the arm hastily retreated, prompting the closest Hileans to resume chanting, but louder, the rest taking their cue and diving back in.  For a small eternity, nothing happened.  A bare foot stepped out, onto the lower edge of the mirror, causing it to wobble precariously before the owner of that foot thought better and hesitantly slid their foot down, clearly feeling for the floor.

Lillian was breathless, Maya's hand tight in hers.  The foot was followed by a leg, a hip, a hand and arm coming out to hold the mirror, higher up, then a body, nude, a head, hair, and a bewildered face.  They had done it.  They had actually done it.  They had summoned the champion.

There was a moment of breathless silence before Torina whirled, triumphantly thrusting her hands into the air and howling, "The champion has arrived!"  The silence broke like a dam overflowing, and everyone cheered, even Lillian, watching as everyone leapt to their feet around her.  Apparently the champion hadn't realized how many people were there, because they looked up, visibly stunned by the roaring noise and raucous cheering.  Lillian would feel bad for them later.  Now was the time to celebrate.

Commissions Are Open!

I'm opening up writing commissions.  It's basically going to be like art commissions, you pay me for what you want, I write something, and then I give it to you.  With your permission, I might also post it around, but that's up to you.

*~*~*

For $5, I will write you a haiku or a limerick with one word from you to define the content, anything from love, trees, and life, to Sherlock, Godoka, and Sourin:

Haiku
Five, seven, and five
This is what makes a haiku
Nothing more or less

Limerick
The syllables in this poem don't matter
Put in as many as you'd like to splatter
Voltaire used this format I think
For a rhyme I'll add in a sink
And examples do it no justice

*~*~*

For $10, I'll write you a short poem on the topic of your choice.

Example Here

And again, it can be about something abstract like love, social justicey, or it can be fandom stuff, too.

*~*~*

For $25, you'll get a longer story-style poem, or a ficlet.  Your poem can be fandom-related, and your ficlet can be a non-fandom piece, if you want.

Poem Example Here

Ficlet Example Here

*~*~*

Finally, for $50, you'll get a more in-depth story, with actual plot and direction, and it can be fandom or original, SFW, NSFW, whatever you like.

Fandom Example

Original Example

*~*~*

So, if you'd like to commission a piece from me, please email me at PFGurl4Life2005@yahoo.com, and we can get started

Champion 2

Previous Chapter

*~*~*~*

Maya swung her arm hard, catching her opponent in the chest and throwing the girl flat on her back, the dull thunk of her helmet hitting the hard-packed dirt floor barely audible over the clatter of weaponry against armor, the shouts and cries of battle and pain that always filled the training grounds this time of day.  That was the third time today, and it wasn't yet midday.

"Leticia!  What have I told you?"

Leticia slowly levered herself into a sitting position, her voice strained as she dutifully recited, "Watch both arms, pay attention, do not underestimate your opponent."  Leticia paused to wheeze for breath, then got to her feet before miserably adding, "But the air is so thick, I'm having trouble breathing!"

"You think it won't be this thick in battle?  This is what Hileans are good at, what they excel at--they summon so much energy that anyone but them chokes on it.  You will be a follower of Jettas, if you finish your training!  You will be at the head, the front of the battle, and it will be thicker and deeper than this, do you hear me, Leticia?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Maya could see the way Leticia's mouth twisted under her helmet, though not the bulk of her face, and she understood the girl's ire, remembered her own teacher yelling the same things at her while she wore the same expression, but that did not make it any less true.

Disciples of the High Lady, Hileans, had access to a great deal more magic than disciples of any of the four sisters, and almost more than disciples of the Low Lady, Loliens, and while there was much Hileans could not do with their powers, overwhelming others was something they could do.

Unfortunately for Maya, Leticia was right.  The air was very thick, and she knew why.  The Royal Hiliens were preparing for some ritual, had been for days, and midday was a very auspicious time for the spell to begin.  The disciples-in-training were all sluggish from the heaviness of the air, though they gamely attempted to continue.

Maya sheathed her sword and gave Leticia's shoulder a rough clap, "Round up the little ones, and get them some water."  Leticia ducked her head and ran off, while Maya raised her voice to be heard above the din, "Everyone stop what you're doing!  Cheryl, I mean you, too!"

Cheryl lifted her helmet to give Maya a cheeky grin, and didn't even have the good grace to wilt in defeat when Maya glared at her.  Maya shook her head at Cheryl and took off her helmet, tipping her head back as ropes of vividly blue hair fell into her face.  Stupid long hair.  She used her helmet to gesture the other women closer, and they followed Maya's example, removing their own helmets, and trying to avoid creaking or clanking too much as they moved.

"Alright, as I'm sure you all have noticed, the royal Hileans are doing some ritual, and I'm sure a few of you have even heard rumors of what it's supposed to do."  A few women nodded, some looked sheepish or giggled to each other before being hastily shushed by their comrades as Maya continued.  "I was going to keep you all going until the spell's climax, but even I have to confess there is a lot of energy in the air, and for the most part, you all have been doing well.  So you've got the afternoon off."

That prompted an immediate cheer, a rolling rumble of chit-chatty voices, and Maya waited for the excitement to die down before she continued, "I won't say that you must go to the ritual, but I will say that I strongly advise it.  Though the magic makes it difficult to breathe, it is actually quite beneficial, and additionally, there is power and value in knowing how those of other faiths perform their spells, understand?"

There was a generalized mumble of assent, and Maya sent everyone off with another wave of her helmet.  Once she was sure Leticia had the younger girls hydrated, she followed the other recruits to the armory, discarding her armor and weaponry in a small bubble of relative silence.  She pretended to not notice.

As a disciple of Jettas, Maya held a heavy burden.  Jettas was the lady of death, of course, and justice as well, so Maya was authorized to kill, as necessary, and an arbiter of justice.  But more importantly, Jettas was the lady of truth, honesty.  As her disciple, not only was Maya forbidden from lying, she was obligated to confront any lie she heard, even one said in jest.  She was allowed leeway for confrontation, as her own conscience allowed.  But Maya's conscience only allowed her to know three lies before she was forced to confront the liars, or confess her reasoning for not confronting them to Jettas, and risk losing her status as a disciple.

Maya finished changing out of her armor and looped her sword belt over her shoulder, then took her bubble of silence out of the armory and into the palace halls.  The funny thing about lying, Maya reflected, was that a person had to know they were doing it to get caught out.  If someone knew they were lying, it polluted their auras in ways only disciples of Jettas could see.  Being wrong wasn't the same, and that was what tripped people up around her.

Maya carried her bubble of silence into the medical wing.  She certainly intended to attend the Hilean ceremony, but first, she had to find her housemate.  Lillian was her housemate and best friend, and had been for many years.  As a follower of Clio, Lillian should have been amongst those tending secular and religious magical accidents, and certain non-magical accidents as well.  "Should have been" being the operative words.

Maya made a quick search of the medical wing, carefully avoiding masked disciples of Clio, because if they were sick, it was something that Maya very definitely didn't want to catch.  Unfortunately, there was no sign of Lillian, and the patients were beginning to get antsy and anxious from Maya's presence.  Maya moved into the medical lab, which was off the medical wing, in hopes of finding Lillian there.

When Maya entered the medical lab, she found a young disciple mixing a beaker of something purple and something green.  At the sight of Maya, she fumbled the beaker of muddy liquid that was the result, before dropping it on the floor, swearing as it shattered.  Everything the liquid touched began to grow flowers, including the disciple's hand.  Maya decided to end her search of the lab there and beat a hasty retreat.

Fortunately, she was able to find the head disciple, Denice, who was instructing a disciple-in-training over a wriggling patient's rash, "Uh...Denice?"

"What broke in the lab?"

"Just a beaker, but it's growing flowers."

Denice heaved a sigh and sent off the young woman she was speaking with, "Probably Shannon again.  Lilly said she thought there was an abnormal number of religious accidents, and last I heard, she was headed to the library."

Maya gave a sheepish laugh, embarrassed to be so transparent that Denice didn't even bother to ask her purpose.  Well, it wasn't like Maya was hurt very often, even as a trainer of recruits, and the only people who ever had any business in a medical lab were disciples of Clio, and the occasional disciple of Yorn, so it made sense that Maya would be searching for Lillian, whose skills were best displayed in the lab.

"Thank you, Denice.  Do you think Shannon will be able to recover from that spell?"

"Based on what I saw her doing, she should be able to.  It might require a bit of secular magic, but I've been telling her that spell's not going to work the way she wants it to for a month, and she has persisted, regardless.  It was bound to happen, eventually."  Maya nodded and made to head off, but was stopped by Denice, "Are you taking Lilly to the ritual?"

"I was planning to."

"Well, tell her I said to take notes for the rest of us."

Maya could almost hear Lillian's frustrated groan.  Though Denice's directive meant that Lillian was free to go, disciple's of Clio tended the injured and ill, which meant they always needed to know exactly what looked like what, what smelled like what, and Maya had seen three-page reports written on a bruise.  The ritual would surely fill a book, but she couldn't help but grin, appreciatively ducking her head, "Thank you, Denice."

Denice made a shooing gesture before heading towards the lab, while Maya left the medical wing to head for the royal library, where Lillian was bound to be.  It was her favorite place to be, anyway, after the medical lab.  She really should have been one of Yorn's disciples, but she had her reasons for choosing Clio.

*~*~*~*

Next Chapter

Champion

Sorry for the lack of poetry this week, as well as the late story, but in exchange for your patience, I give you the first chapter in a new novel I am writing.  Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

"Dylan, you're home!"

Dylan's landlord was an older woman, white, a bit scrawny, with a scratchy kind of high-pitched voice.  Dylan had really been hoping to avoid her, but she was sweeping up dead leaves out front, and the only approach to to the house from the bus stop was visible from where she was.  Dylan couldn't, in good conscience, just walk by without responding to her.  "Yeah, I'm just getting back from work."

It was fall, but the day had been hot, and Dylan's backpack was heavy, digging into their shoulders and making Dylan's back sweat.  "I was just raking some leaves," replied the landlord, rather unnecessarily, "Doing some chores around the house."

"Oh.  That's good."

"Yeah, I've been raking leaves and I mowed the lawn earlier, my back is killing me."

"I can see how that could be a pain."  The lawn was huge, wrapping around the already-large house and extending back quite a ways.  Dylan sure as hell didn't want to do it, but that was why Dylan was renting, rather than owning their own home.  Also it was cheaper, but that was beside the point.

"Yeah, I've still got to get the gutters, all these leaves have probably clogged that up, it's gonna be a real hassle to clean up."

She paused for a moment, not quite looking at Dylan, and not quite not looking at Dylan while they struggled to find an answer.  Dylan had never cleaned gutters, and wasn't sure why the landlady was talking about it.  Maybe she was trying for sympathy?  Or just trying to connect?  Dylan had had a long, trying day at work and just couldn't muster up much emotional anything.

"I'm sorry to hear that.  I hope it goes well.  I'm...gonna head on inside."  Dylan slowly took first one, then another step towards the front door, not wanting to be rude, but more than ready to be done with this conversation.

The landlady lifted her hand in farewell, "You have a good evening."

"You, too."

Dylan went inside, where they breathed a sigh of relief.  That was over.  And noone was in the kitchen, which meant Dylan didn't have to try awkwardly navigating around other renters to do things in the tiny space.

Dylan washed the day's lunch dishes, prepared breakfast and lunch for the next day, then sat down to eat a dinner of cheese, sweet bread, and mango, with seasoned microwave beef strips from a bag, because that was what Dylan had been craving for dinner when they went shopping for the week.  It was all delicious and quite filling, and that was really all that mattered, even if, while cutting the mango, Dylan couldn't help thinking about how sharp the knife was, how quickly it would stab through flesh, how the blood wouldn't be too difficult to clean from the tile.  Then the microwave beeped, and Dylan retrieved the beef strips, so that dinner would be complete.

Dylan was just discarding their trash when another renter came into the kitchen.  The fisherman.  He was nice, and he was willing to let there be silence, which Dylan appreciated.  Dylan gave the man a nod of acknowledgement, receiving one in return as the pair traded places in the kitchen, Dylan leaving, and the man entering.

A quick trip down the stairs later and it was shower time.  Dylan showered, briefly used the swiffers to clean the shower and the rest of the bathroom, wiped down the sink real quick, washed their hands and retreated to their bedroom, still completely nude, and grateful, not for the first time, that they had a private bathroom across from the bedroom, even if it was the size of a closet, and awkward for Dylan's bulky figure to maneuver around in.

Done with the annoying parts of the return home, Dylan took a few minutes to masturbate, as a personal reward for showering and cleaning the bathroom, which they'd planned to do every day, and thus far, had managed.  Once done with that, Dylan decided a little shuteye before hopping online would be nice, and after setting the alarm timer to half an hour, so the short nap didn't turn into sleeping all night, Dylan closed their eyes, took deep breaths, and intentionally relaxed, allowing themselves to fall into a meditative state.

There were women.  Two of them in front.  Four in back.  All of them glowing in different colors.  Just out of earshot of Dylan.

The women in front looked human.  Both were round and soft, one with brown skin with red undertones, the other a much darker, truer brown, not quite model-black, but close.  The lighter woman glowed a sunny yellow and, combined with her huge, gorgeous afro, seemed to have a halo.  The darker woman glowed blue and had long locs pulled up into an elaborate style, whispering with her companion.  From the way they kept looking over, it was clear they were discussing Dylan.

Behind them was a huge woman who appeared to be made of grey boulders, a full, green bush with far-reaching roots serving as her hair.  Though she was about the same shape as the more human women in front, she was scaled about twice as large, and rather resembled a mobile mountain.  She was hunched over in deference to the black hand on her shoulder, the red glow surrounding it pushing oddly at the green glow surrounding her.

The bald woman whom the red glow surrounded wasn't model-black, but a true, light-sucking black, with the notable exception of her bone-white pubes and eyebrows.  Whatever she was saying to the rock woman, it had her full attention, because she didn't seem to notice the excited-looking little woman who was crawling her way up the rock woman's other side.

The climber had bronze-brown skin with glitter under it, glowing purple on top of it, her half-braided, half pressed hair tripping her up as she climbed.  When she reached the rock woman's head and startled the bald woman, her long hair was used to pull her, prompting her to scramble behind the meager defense the fourth woman offered.

The last woman looked like a life-sized painting, cut out of the frame, glowing white and almost human-looking, like the others.  She had a frizzy ponytail, smoothed down around the edges by smears of dried paint, and she moved like a stopmotion film, in awkward starts and stops.  When the glitter-skinned woman hid behind her, she spread her arms wide, even as she disapprovingly glared over her shoulder, while the rock woman gently held back the enraged bald one.

Dylan decided this was probably the most interesting thing they'd seen in months, and stepped forward, with the intent to engage the foreign women in conversation.  They ran into what felt like syrup, catching the attention of the woman glowing yellow, whose head popped up in alarm as she waved an arm at Dylan, urging Dylan back.  But it was already too late, and the women disappeared before Dylan could retreat.  There was a distant yellow light, however, illuminating the surrounding darkness, and the sound of voices, raised in either song or prayer.

The light washed out everything, the only thing that Dylan could see, so Dylan continued walking forward.  The voices resolved themselves into chanting that grew louder the closer Dylan got, the light resolving itself into a doorway, or perhaps a window, too bright to see beyond, and a few inches off the ground.  A tentative hand through the center of the light met with no resistance, though as Dylan extended more of their arm through, the chanting faltered, causing the light to dim.

Dylan sharply withdrew their arm, not wanting to lose it if the window suddenly closed, but the chanting picked up again, and the light brightened.  Dylan tried to step up on the bottom edge of the window of light, as if it were a true step.  It wobbled precariously, so Dylan grabbed the edges to keep it from falling.  Once Dylan was certain it wasn't going anywhere, they poked their foot out, finding solid ground on the other side, at about the same level as it was on Dylan's side, and quickly stepped through.

Dylan turned out to be climbing out of a mirror into the center of a circle of women wearing matching yellow robes.  All of the robed women glowed lemony yellow, with the exception of the gray-haired older woman facing the mirror, whose yellow glow was tinted black close to her skin.  She looked stunned at the sight of Dylan coming out of her mirror, completely nude, and she paused for a long moment before suddenly turning, thrusting her arms into the air with a triumphant cry.

"The champion has arrived!"

A roaring cheer rose up around them, and Dylan suddenly realized that the circle of women surrounding the mirror was, in turn, surrounded by an enormous stadium full of people.  Dylan wasn't sure if this was an elaborate dream, or hallucinations caused by bad...something, but as Dylan looked around, they realized that maybe this hadn't been the best idea they'd ever had.

Next Chapter

Two Knives

This story prominently features somewhat graphic mentions of suicide and murder, so if you are triggered by either, please proceed with caution, or avoid this tale entirely.

*~*~*~*

She could go either way.  She had a plan for either contingency.

In the first, she was in the bathroom, with the light on and the door closed, maybe with the shower raining down over her.  The wrists were too sketchy, too uncertain, the inside of each elbow was a much better shot, a much better chance, especially if she went one, two, and got both.  She'd have enough muscle control for that, as long as she moved quickly, and she could.

She'd leave her cellphone on the sink, set to her memos, with a note detailing where to go to find her post-death instructions, and apologies to whoever found her, apologies for the mess, for the waste of water, for the smell, whatever needed apologizing for.

On her laptop, exactly where she said in her memo the information would be, she would have a detailed list of information, what she wanted to happen, who she wanted to notify.

The second plan was a lot riskier, involved waiting for him to fall asleep, and praying she got the cut just right, so he didn't struggle and make a bigger mess than was necessary.  The other woman, not her, but his wife, she wasn't the most attentive, and if she'd had a long day, she'd never notice.

No, night was better, wait until they were asleep, together, and again, one, two, taking off before anyone found them, living high on their hogs until she could get away.  Far away.  Never to return.  Probably would end in a jail sentence, but it wasn't like her life couldn't benefit from three meals a day and a consistent place to sleep.

She sighed, looking at the knives, sharp, if a bit small, and put them in the knife block where they belonged, shaking off morbid fantasies for the reality of emptying the dishwasher, shaking water from clean dishes and putting them where they belonged, moving dirty dishes from the sink to the dishwasher.

She wouldn't do anything, she knew that, but sometimes, the fantasy kept her sane, for just one more day, gave her something to think about that wasn't what she was already worried about.  It continued to be enough.

Queen's Peace

Tori looked up when Daxia escorted the queen in through the door of the room the rebels had claimed as command central in their attempts to overthrow the queen and establish a new government, one that properly accommodated for all of its people.

She had expected the queen would come, because after kidnapping the king, they'd demanded the queen's presence.  She hadn't expected the queen to come in full regalia, an ocean of petticoats, a crown of pearls to hold back her halo of curls, a gem-encrusted corset to make an elegant curve of her waist, while simultaneously highlighting the soft roundness of her arms, bared underneath with wisps of fabric trailing over top.

Tori and the others, Rhia, the fae, barely as tall as Tori's face, and sitting on a small chair on the table Tori was at because of it, her wings slowly fluttering, Daxia, the dwarf, shifting her heavy mithril hammer away from the queen and the rest of the party, and Elie, the elf, next to the captured, tied and gagged king, gesturing at Rhia with his legs, were all in pants and plain, simple garb, assuming the queen wouldn't take them seriously, even though they had her king in custody.

Rhia stood, her wings whirring as she began to take flight, then she stopped and dropped back to the table, her wings slowing as she folded her arms and observed the approaching human.  Daxia hovered at the door, her hammer lightly thumping as she rested it on the floor, and Elie put the king's legs back on the table, well away from him, taking care not to chip the expensive porcelain.  The queen had come to them as if they were foreign dignitaries, rather than treasonous subjects making noises of secession and threats of overthrowing her rule, and they were all just a bit embarrassed by this unexpected fact.

She took a long moment to look at each of their faces, even turning back for a look at Daxia, who averted her eyes and pretended to be very busy with the handle of her hammer, before dropping into a low curtsy, so far down that her hair entirely obscured her head for a moment, again surprising the gathered rebel leaders.

When she arose, her expression and demeanor were serious, her voice calm and collected, "I apologize.  I have sorely neglected the Hridale Province, which is the crossroads of so many species, and unfairly under human control.  I incorrectly assumed that, if I avoided interfering, Hridale would prosper.  Please forgive me for my oversight and allow me to begin making amends."

So this was the queen who negotiated alone with hungry dragons and came out the better for it.  Tori could suddenly see why.  The queen radiated sincerity and earnestness, her voice calm enough to not make a fuss, but passionate enough to convey deep emotion.  Tori was no match for her, she already knew.

Elie, however, apparently had no such compunctions, because she brandished the king's legs at the queen, causing them to rattle threateningly as she used them to punctuate her points, "Why should we?  For years, not months or weeks or days, years, you have left us, abandoned us, failed to protect us, failed to protect our rights, and turned a blind eye to our trials and suffering!  We want absolutely no more to do with you!"

Daxia gave Elie an anxious look, "It....Elie, it doesn't have to be like tha--"

"But it should be!"

"I agree," murmured Rhia, her voice quietly resonant.  Elie smugly subsided, to await Rhia's next words, and Daxia turned her anxious stare to Rhia.  Tori remained silent.  As a human in Hridale Province, she'd been the recipient of very little discrimination, though as an innkeeper, she'd seen plenty of it.  She was here because she wanted to help her friends, but it was not her place to say what they needed.

Rhia remained on the table, forcing the queen to come down to her level, rather than flying up to the queen's level, her voice just as cool and sincere, "As you yourself said, we have been sorely neglected, but not just in Hridale, all throughout Coris, and you, in your unwillingness to make changes that would help us, are directly to blame.  We want a government with no monarchy, and equal representation of all species in Coris, including fae, including elves, including dwarves, humans, trolls, giants, all of us.  We have an action plan, ready to implement, and we will hold your king until you implement the first step of it."

"Surely," countered the queen, "You can appreciate why I might wish for my king back and how difficult it is to enact any such policy change over the whole of the kingdom."

"I do, but you have no choice.  Tori, if you would?"

The plan was sized for humans, elves, and dwarves, as Rhia had decided that since she was giving it to a human, it needed to be that large.  Unfortunately, this meant that Rhia could not physically lift it, as it was almost as big as her, so Tori picked up the documents, and stood, handing them to the queen, who began to look through them, her expression remaining static as she did so.

"You may take your time with those, look them over carefully.  Daxia?"

Daxia hefted her hammer again and moved to the queen's side, careful not to touch the queen's superlative garb, and trying to look smaller than head and shoulder's shorter than the queen, "I-If you could...?"  The queen looked frustrated for a brief moment, but she schooled her face before allowing herself to be led out.

"Do you think she'll really do it?" asked Elie, poking at the magical sensors in the king's legs, making them twitch and move.

"Stop that," scolded Rhia.  She'd already been uncomfortable about taking the king's legs as is, but Elie and Daxia only had his spare pair, the ones he was currently wearing weighted with magic-killing iron.  "And no, I don't think she will.  You know humans."

Tori felt a familiar stab, but she brushed it off.  She knew that Rhia wasn't speaking of her specifically, but it still hurt, still ached, to hear that sort of thing, and to know she could do no more to make it so that Rhia wouldn't have reason to say it.  She held her silence as Elie shrugged, "Yeah, but we DO have her king.  He's got to be worth something to her.  She came in full regalia."

"Intimidation tactic," replied Rhia, her voice decisive as she went back to her seat, "To remind us just how much power she has, and how much we don't."

Daxia came in just as Rhia said that, and she mumbled, "I...I think she was just...trying to give us full respect, you know?"

"I'm with Rhia," said Elie, pointing at the fae in question, "She was just trying to intimidate us into backing down."

"Well, I'm definitely intimidated," said Tori, with a light laugh, "It's amazing she could even reach the door in all of that."

Daxia grinned, "She couldn't."

Tori glanced at the king, who seemed to have resigned himself to his fate, while he watched the four women talk and interact.  He noticed her watching him watching the rest of them, and he shrugged.  Tori felt for him, but justice had to be done.  For all the species humans oppressed.

How They Do It

In Summer Shelton's opinion, the effects of sugar water on Martian bacteria, after only three days, were astonishing.  Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she marked her observations in the system log book, as well as measurements of how much it had grown, consulting the notes on her handheld data pad, modeled after modern tablet computers, and optimized for use in space, including a rubber case to protect it from bumps, and to make it easier to handle.

The bacterial growth rate was incredible, though Summer wasn't sure if it was the refined sugar or the filtered water encouraging that growth.  She tapped open the monitor sidebar with her finger to add a note to harvest more of the bacteria for testing both of those separately, when something caught the corner of her eye, off to the left, where the icon representing her should have been a eight year-old picture of her in an afro, smiling for her ID photo.  She'd since gotten her hair twisted into locs, because they were easier for her to maintain, and they didn't shed nearly as much, an important thing when one wanted to be an astronaut.

Instead of the old photo of her in the little box, there was a picture of a fried chicken leg.

The ship had a crew of five, astonishingly large for a trip to Mars, even after the affectionately-nicknamed "impossible" EmDrive engine that got them there in a matter of weeks, rather than months, and without all the fuel usually necessary, but all members of the crew had been deemed necessary for the work being done.

Summer herself was a PH.D-level lab technician who'd been discovered when she'd made a crucial connection in something sent to the head of the lab, Meghashyam Parikh.  She'd been managing his inbox while he was away on a presentation tour, when he'd been sent something from NASA.

After taking a look at what was wanted, and remembering that missives from NASA took priority, she'd fulfilled the expectations of the request, sending them back to the team that had requested the information, and copying Meghashyam on what she'd done, so that he would know what she had sent out on his behalf, though the missive had clearly been marked.

She'd received a call at eleven that night, when Meghashyam frantically called to figure out how she had made that connection, because NASA thought it was him, wanting him to accompany a mission to Mars, and he had no idea what she'd done.  After months of hounding, he'd convinced her to go along, and convinced NASA they wanted her for the trip.  She still wasn't sure she appreciated that.

Besides Summer and Meghashyam, there was Sherwin Valencia, a genius aeronautical engineer who'd been angry to realize his changes to how NASA shuttles used human waste had been revolutionary, Bena Morton, a world-renowned geneticist who could actually make Meghashyam and Sherwin work together, and Erik House, who'd wanted a team put together, but had been unpleasantly surprised when him not putting the team together himself resulted in him being the only white person on it.

Summer knew that Erik was responsible for the change to her icon, just like when Meghashyam got a cow for his icon, Sherwin got a pineapple, or Bena got a dreamcatcher, it was always Erik.  He claimed he was joking, that it was in good fun, but it upset Summer.  Bena, too, but Meghashyam thought it was funny, and Sherwin tended to extract his revenge by means of shorting Erik's communicator, so it never really got addressed, though Summer was definitely beginning to reach the end of her patience with it.

She changed her icon back, sent Bena a frustrated message of complaint, and finished her notes.

By the time she was done, Bena had finished whatever work she'd been doing and come to join Summer, her long hair pulled back into its usual braided bun as she leaned against the console next to Summer, the sympathetic expression on her lined face going a long way towards soothing Summer's frustration.

She spent the next several minutes listening to Bena talk about her own work, because it was an excellent distraction, but their peace was eventually disturbed by Meghashyam and Erik, hooting about whatever they'd found, and Summer went to go find Sherwin, as he was bound to be seething about whatever had been inflicted on him as a result of the other men's findings.

In the quiet between the trio she'd left behind, and where she was heading, Summer heard the voice.  She'd heard voices before, usually the others over the comms, calling her to one place or another on the ship, but this voice was different.  Softer.  It reminded her of visiting her grandmother when it wasn't a holiday, and the house was empty, a weak voice that used to be strong, that still expected obedience when it commanded, but preferred using gentleness.  And it felt like the quiet spot in grandma's house during the holidays.

Naturally, Summer scrambled away from that foreign voice, futilely clutching her head and willing it away, as it assured her it meant no harm, and it was endangered, please help.  Voices should not have been in her head, she didn't want them, no.  Then the ship's alarms went off, collision alert, and for a bit, everything went crazy as everyone tried to figure out where the collision was coming from,how to get away with it, where was mission control, and more.

By the time the metaphorical dust cleared, the five humans, ship and all, were aboard another, larger ship the size of a state, surrounding by multicolored alien horses with sharp hooves and sharper teeth, trying their best to handle their new circumstances, and failing pretty spectacularly.  There were aliens, they could read minds, and the didn't like what they were learning about their galactic neighbors.

Colour

This story is a product of Tumblr and, based on the story idea that people only see color when they meet their soulmate, someone wanted a story in that universe wherein aromantics could always see color.  If this story is in any way offensive or problematic, please let me know how I can change it to not be offensive, or if I should remove it entirely.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Lane Bryant had a wonderful plethora of attractive clothing styles, cut for bodies of myriad shapes and sizes.  If only they stuck to black and white, rather than taking in clothing from designers who used colors So Badly, either because they were new to color, or could not see it at all.

Melissa sighed, inspecting a shirt with a garish mixture of dull orange and neon yellow, attempting to decide if she could forgive herself for buying it.  It wasn’t like the vast majority of her friends would be able to tell the difference, as most hadn’t found their soulmates, yet.

Melissa had been born with the ability to see colors from birth, all colors, all shades, from blues and purples, browns and oranges, yellows and reds, all the colors, and she’d been confused for a long time, because other people couldn’t, wouldn't until they found their soulmates, not even her parents.

"Lissy~!"

She was pulled out of her thoughts by someone calling her name.  It turned out to be Joanne, her scalp showing pale in the parts between her braids.  She must have gotten her hair done recently.  Joanne was trailed by an amused Denton, whose diamond-shaped parts were also nice and neat, his long ropes of hair pulled back into a loose ponytail at the base of his neck.  They both looked so nice today.  Were they out on a date?

Joanne and Denton were Melissa’s exes from college.  She’d broken up with them, because after a year, they’d wanted more emotional commitment from her than she was willing to give.  She'd felt bad, wanting to give them what they asked for, but they were not her soulmates, and she was not theirs.  It had taken time for all of them to recover, and discovering the term "aromantic" had helped Melissa understand why she'd been born with the ability to see all colors, rather than the monochrome world it seemed everyone else experienced, as well as why romance Just Didn't Work for her, but the trio had a strong relationship that had translated into a deep, continuing friendship, and it was always nice to see them.

Melissa brightened at the sight of the pair, who had been terribly occupied in, gasp, real lives, things like jobs and bills and all of that, happy to meet them again after months without seeing them, and she waved in greeting as they came through the racks of clothing, then winced as the clothing in Joanne’s hands became visible.  The top was a deep, vivid green, while the skirt was a riotous orange and pink extravaganza.

Separately, they’d have been interesting pieces, if a bit inappropriate for the warm undertones to Joanne's brown skin, but Melissa had no doubt that Joanne wanted to wear them together, because they were nicely-cut and would do marvelous things for Joanne’s body.

Joanne laughed at the look on Melissa’s face, uninsulted by the silent criticism, “Shit, I was afraid these would look terrible together.  Denton says the skirt looks fabulous, and /I/ think the shirt looks great, but you know us.”

When Joanne and Denton hooked up, Joanne gained the ability to see blues, purples, and greens, while Denton gained red, pinks, and oranges.  Neither of them could see shades of brown, so while they could somewhat monochromatically dress themselves, and each other, neither could appreciate the cool brown of Denton’s skin against Joanne’s darker skin the way Melissa could.

Melissa laughed, “Yeah, I know you two, and I promise that you don’t want to be wearing that when you meet your other soulmate.  What would they think of you?”

"That we’re better dressed than them, because we can see some colors, and they can't see any?"

Joanne swatted at Denton with her shirt for his commentary, laughing as he playfully whacked her back with his hair.  These losers were so cute, Melissa really didn’t know what to do with them.

"Uh…excuse me?"

The man had a short fade, a sheepish look on his face, heinously mismatched clothes, and a pair of necklaces in his hands, as he spoke to the trio, “Have you found your soulmate?”

People always asked Melissa that when she talked about seeing colors.  She didn’t bother to say no anymore, or to explain that she’d been born with the ability to see colors, it just wasn’t worth the effort.  Similarly, Joanne and Denton had gotten sick  of explaining that they'd met one of their soulmates, and could only see a portion of the full color spectrum.

"Yeah," sighed Melissa, ready to be terribly annoyed by this guy, "What’s up?"

"Well, I wanted to get my mother a necklace.  She just found her soulmate, and she likes pink, but I’m not sure what it looks like."

That would explain why he was holding a pair of orange necklaces: he couldn’t tell the difference.

"Neither of those are pink," Denton spoke up, leaning in to peer at them, "I think they’re orange.  That’s orange, right Mel?"

"Yeah, that’s orange."

"….is that what orange looks like?”

Three heads swiveled for a look at Joanne, who was staring at the necklaces, her eyes intently focused, her mouth hanging open in shock for just a moment before she licked her lips and swallowed, “I…I can see that color.  That’s what orange looks like?”

Denton’s gaze lingered on Joanne, while Melissa watched the man with the fade.  She could see the way his eyes darted over Joanne’s clothing and skin, Melissa’s, Denton’s, even his own, as he began to see colors he had never experienced for the first time, and he finally, slowly offered, “My name’s Arthur.”

Joanne recovered first, offering Arthur a little smile, “Hi, Arthur.  I'm Joanne, this is Denton, and I…guess we can have Denton teach us both what pink looks like?”  She shot a hopeful look at Denton, and he nervously pushed his hair back, “Uh, yeah.  I could…totally do that.”

Melissa was out.  The last thing she needed was to watch these yahoos flirt over learning colors like they were in a cheesy romcom, so she took the shirt and skirt from Joanne, “I’m gonna go put these back for you, ok?”

Joanne looked at clothes and laughed, grimacing at her options, “Uh, yeah, thanks Lissy.”

"Bye Denton."

"Later, Mel."

"Nice meeting you, Arthur."  He gave Melissa a sheepish wave as she escaped.  She was happy for her friends, but no thanks.

Lose It All

The last thing Kerry thought was, "Today started so well."

Kerry and Alicia had worked on the same team for about a year, doing a multilingual project with three guys, all white.  As the only women on the team, they'd bonded quickly, especially when it became clear that Kerry was the Japanese expert, and Alicia was the German expert.  That'd teach the men to make assumptions.

Bonding at work by giggling at the white guys had turned into lunch at the sushi counter and soon, dinner at a nice Japanese steakhouse.  Alicia preferred the ones with white servers, because they never assumed she spoke Japanese, which Kerry could appreciate.

Kerry had gotten her letter changed right before the multilingual project, so she had been able to make a fresh start with her new team.  It had thrown off people who'd known her before, but the company had stood by Kerry, and that was more than plenty for Kerry to stand by the company, and when Alicia had reflexively accepted Kerry, it forced their other team members to do the same.

Unfortunately, Kerry's landlord hadn't been so accommodating, and Kerry decided to move out before she got pushed out.  A careless comment from Alicia, and the two women were soon plotting a plan to move in together, one they soon brought to fruition at a spacious, open-plan place with well-maintained ramps and a wonderful non-discrimination policy.

They hired movers, and spent their first night in their new home eating takeout, watching old movies, and making love.

The next day, they decided to go out, explore their new neighborhood, and just have a good time, making faces at each other in the bathroom mirror as they put their makeup on, and laughing when they accidentally grabbed one another's makeup, because the electric blue eyeshadow that would work on Kerry wasn't doing Alicia any favors, while Alicia's bronzing glitter powder would just wash out Kerry.

Since they were exploring, Kerry went with her cute jeans, fro, and tennies, while Alicia opted for a floral sundress and a flower headband, both women determined to look as beautiful as they felt together.  They were cute as hell, and so in love.

And as fantastic as the day began, it only got better.

They found most of the shops downtown were made to accommodate Alicia's chair, in deference to the nearby apartment complex, noone batted an eyelash when Kerry wanted to try on a few things, and when Alicia intimated she wanted to try things on, the workers immediately asked if they needed to let Kerry in to help her.

There was a brief sour spot when some boys made some nasty comments Kerry's way, but a cop drove them off with the reassurance that if he hadn't acted, he couldn't have lived with himself, and he even escorted the pair to the sushi restaurant they'd been heading to for their late lunch.

Eventually, they found themselves happily exhausted near a large, beautiful cemetery, and since it was still light out, they decided that the quiet, serene beauty of the place would be rejuvenating, and it was.  The cemetery was full of beautiful statues and placards, planted with lush, vibrant flowers and bushes that attracted lilting birds and a variety of small animals that scurried out of sight with a rustle at the whir of Alicia's approaching chair.

It was an idyllic place to be, and they explored there for the rest of the afternoon, peering at graves, sheepishly giggling when they were able to mark their progress over damp soil by twinned lines and footsteps left in their wake.  Both women commented to each other that they wished they'd brought a picnic, or at least takeout, so they could share a meal with the dead, to honor them and keep them company.

They only began to head back as the shadows grew long, the light painting the world in reds and oranges as the sun set.  A shadow moved where Kerry hadn't expected anyone to be, and she stopped, putting a hand on Alicia's shoulder to let her girlfriend know what she was doing, the whir of Alicia's chair fading as Alicia came to a halt as well.  Kerry peered into the darkness, and from what she could see, there was a little girl with Mickey Mouse puffs, her back to Kerry and Alicia, surrounded by several men, big ones with white sticks tangled into long ropes of ill-kempt hair and half-flattened afros, their skin oddly pale.

One of them moved just the right way, and to Kerry's shock, she realized that their faces were rotting off.  Not just their faces, but all of their skin, their bodies, to the point Kerry could see bone and gray muscle.  This was, she realized, more than simple disease, especially taking in the shambling gait of the men around the little girl.

In any other situation, Kerry would have fled, left the zombies for someone else to deal with, but the someone else who'd have to deal with them was a kid, and you didn't just leave kids to their fates, no matter what.  Kerry sharply barked for Alicia to call the cops and she pelted across the manicured grass, to Alicia's terrified shouting.  The grass would hinder Alicia's progress, and if one of those men attacked, tipped Alicia over, she'd be able to defend herself or escape, not both, which Kerry didn't want to risk.

Kerry shoved two of the men away, trying her best to ignore the way their bodies squelched as she reached for the little girl's hand.  Dear god, those were bones in their hair.  She didn't allow herself any more time to contemplate them, towing the little girl after her, then just swinging the child, who couldn't have been older than eight, over her shoulder as she ran back to Alicia, who was staring past her in shock.

Kerry turned to see what had caused Alicia's shock, and had to put the little girl down when she realized that the men who'd been surrounding the little girl were gone.  There was no sign of them, which wasn't possible, because Kerry had pushed past them, she'd felt their too-soft bodies and seen their milky dead eyes.  Kerry heard motion and rustling behind her, and assumed the little girl was crawling into Alicia's lap.

Then she heard Alicia making a distressed sound, and looked back to see:

Mickey Mouse puffs held in place by pink balls

A too-wide, too-bright, too-sharp smile

Unnatural pupil-less blue-upon-blue eyes.

The girl was sitting in Alicia's lap, holding Alicia's wrists down, where she couldn't reach the controls, the pair surrounded by the same men Kerry had just 'rescued' the little girl from, bringing Kerry to the terrifying realization that they weren't attackers.

They were minions.

The last thing Kerry thought was, "Today started so well."

Sern

The temple is a small, squat affair in the center of the village, unassuming and rather drab.  The most interesting thing about the temple is the large courtyard it surrounds.  At the center of this courtyard is a tree, possibly the largest in the world, certainly the oldest, and the small temple gives the impression of containing the tree, protecting it from the world.  Or perhaps protecting the world from it.

The courtyard is never empty.

The courtyard, and the holy tree at its center, is a gathering place for the vast majority of the village, because it is the most comforting place to be, filled with the prayers of future parents wanting children, new parents offering their gratitude for their children and exchanging advice, and children, running and laughing, brown skin made darker by the sun, black curls bleached yellow by the same.

The future parents are the primary concern of the priests in the temple, as the future parents are the most likely to go without food or sleep, praying to the tree and the ribbon they've tied to it for a child.  In a few weeks' time, if they are both devoted and truly want a child, the ribbon will adorn the oblong red fruit that will bow the tree's branches.

In that oblong fruit will be the beginning of a young child.  When the fruit grows to the proper size, a priest will carefully harvest it, cutting the stem above the ribbon marking parentage, and the parents will take the fruit home to begin the work of feeding energy into it, and the young child within.

Assuming that the fruit does not wilt due to lack of attention or toxic environment, it will gradually shade to blue on the outside, then grow larger and larger for five months, at which point, it will actively take the energy it needs from its parents, rather than passively receiving, and in a final burst, it will bloom into a rainbow-colored flower, vividest bright blue on the outside and deep, blood red in the center, where the new baby will lay, crying and wanting its parents.

Most parents keep the ribbon and flower as a memento for themselves and their children, all parents return to the temple courtyard, to offer their thanks to the parent of all, holy Casern, who has granted them their new child, and also to seek advice from each other, as well as the head priest.

Because the new baby will be a combination of the parents' energies, its young body and mind will be an amalgamation of the parents.  It is not uncommon for parents who have sustained disabling physical injuries to pass those disabilities, or a portion of those disabilities, to their children, and it is just as common for people born with such disabilities from their own parents to pass their inherited disability on to their children.

Similarly, parents with certain mental states frequently produce children with similar mental states, or, more commonly, children whose mental state is some unique combination of the mental state of the parents.

Such a variety of bodies and minds offers children, and their parents, the chance to learn and grow, and it is not uncommon to hear children exclaiming to their parents and peers about prosthetics or wheelchairs they have encountered that they like, or for children, deaf, partially so, and hearing alike, to make up hand signs together to describe things they encounter until they learn the true sign for it, as well as for children, blind, partially so, or not at all, to come up with words for their own experience.

The childrens' games, of course, naturally vary based on the ability of the group gathered, and either have audible, visual, and tactile components, or depend on teams, to accommodate for varying levels of ability and disability.  Lessons about the world with the priests, of course, are similarly crafted, though most children learn the vast majority of what they know from their parents and peers as they grow, from work and play, as well as from socializing in the courtyard, modeling what they experience from that environment.

On any day, the head priest will see many couples and triads of parents, some female, some male, some mixed-gender, offering advice for how to handle this aspect or that of parentage, reassuring nervous parents that their child's fruit is the right color for how long they've been home, so on and so forth.

Xe is very good at xir job, and xe enjoys it greatly, enjoys talking to people, meeting people, and, of course, watching the children grow up around the temple grounds nude as the day they were born in the tropical heat, variably investigating the physicality of a sex they don't have yet.

All children, of course, are born without sex, much like holy Casern, and they will be given four chances to try different anatomy as they age, depending on what they encounter in their studies that they are curious about, or based on what they are told.

Some children will first try a sex they are fairly certain they don't want for their first choice at 12, and change for their second choice at 15.  Others will choose the sex they think they want at 12, and try the one they think they don't want for their third choice at 18 before changing back for their final choice at 21.

Others are indecisive and switch back and forth, while some know what they want and make their choice immediately, never varying it, and still others find themselves surprised by how much they like or dislike a certain sex and change or maintain their decision accordingly at each decision point.

All such decisions affect how childrens' bodies grow and develop, because changing sex doesn't eliminate the effects of the prior decision they've made, and some children will choose no sex at certain decision points, depending on how they want their body to develop.

Some children, like many of the temple's priests, choose no sex for more than one decision point, precisely because they want to serve holy Casern, or else because being without sex is familiar and comforting to them, though most choose a sex at least once.

One child, to the high priest's vague surprise, chooses no sex for all their decision points, even though their parents are all strongly attached to their sex, and most of their peers are strongly interested in one sex or another.

Xe finally understands when xe prays to Casern, and that child, now an adult, appears before xir with a faint, pleased smile, standing before the massive statue of Casern, resembling the deity incarnate.

"Oh," xe murmurs, surprised by this development, earning a wider grin in response.  Xe falls on xir face, humbled and honored by the incarnation of holy Casern answering xir query for more information, as well as for the honor of having raised and taught said incarnation for all these years, though there is only one reason xe can think of for them doing this, at this stage of xir life, "I am ready for the end, whenever you shall deem it right to take me from this life, holy one."

"I know you are. But you have much work ahead of you."

Xe looked up to see Casern's genderless young incarnation give a slow twirl, turning to look up at the statue they stood below, "And I have much to learn yet."

And Baby Makes Four

**This story features non-graphic mentions of rape, attempted rape, kidnapping, slavery, and PTSD.  If these story elements are upsetting to you, please be forewarned that they appear.**

When Lady Tori of Tremaine Castle first saw Etra, she was instantly enthralled by the woman, tall and a bit sickly from overexertion, but with elegant hands and flowing robes that changed color before Tori's eyes.

Etra was the traveling storyteller, come to the Tremaine from distant lands and her stories were magic, brought to life for children and adults alike with illusions so vivid, Tori could taste them, feel them, smell them.

Etra gave herself the role of the wise witch, and Tori was suddenly transformed into the brave knight Etra had endowed with the weaponry to retrieve the clever princess kidnapped by filthy barbaric northerners, played by a beautiful merchant named Janelle, who was just as confused about her sudden change in role, but who, like Tori, played along.

Tori fought a dragon, huge and bitter with age, hot breath transforming her black globe of curls into a flaming halo of death, while Janelle used science to discredit the evil young wizard before his savage king.

Tori outwit a troll, at the expense of bruises that lasted for days, and she truly felt those days, dragging heavy armor and heavier feet ever forward after a princess all her comrades assumed dead, while Janelle made friends with female housestaff who taught her how to keep the envious wizard from exacting his vengeance by way of nightly visit, and used what she learned to thwart the evil wizard until he gave that tactic up

Tori navigated swamps and climbed mountains, and when she reached the princess, she had truly fought for her lady, while Janelle had fought just as hard, navigating treaties with the king with wit and determination, and nightly assassins from the evil wizard with powders and poisons hidden in her long ropes of hair.

Janelle came to Tori's side, the princess as triumphant as the knight, and the wise witch who narrated their adventures declared them victorious and deserving of the happily ever after due any princess and her knight.

It was a terrible shock for both women when the illusory framework serving as their twinned stories dropped away, leaving Tori down on one knee before Janelle's travel-worn shoes, a soft, warm hand between her shoulderblades.

The hand slowly, hesitantly withdrew as Tori lifted her head, looking past the round of Janelle's belly and ample bust to the softness of her face, where she saw the desire and devotion she felt, only partially leftover from the tale, reflected in Janelle's deep brown eyes.

Tori stood, but a cloud crossing the sun caused Janelle to glance towards the sky, reminding both women that they'd lost half the day to this silliness.  Tori's time could and would be made up at the expense of Tori's night, but Janelle's was her livelihood, and her way of having food and a place to stay the night.  As apology, Tori invited Janelle to stay the night in a room at Tremaine Castle, and the look on Janelle's face assured Tori that whatever room Janelle was to be in, she wanted Tori to be in it as well

Etra, haggard and worn from her entertainment efforts, staggered over to the pair, her wide smile lit from within as she praised both women for their roles in her story, praising their passion and enthusiasm, confessing that she extended the tale farther than she usually did in deference to their commitment to their characters, long fingers and elegant hands once again catching Tori's attention as Etra concluded by informing the pair that it was the best performance she'd done in years.

Tori invited Etra to Tremaine Castle for the night as well, the interested arch of Janelle's brow informing Tori that Etra had caught Janelle's attention as well, even though Tori strongly suspected Etra would only sleep.


Tori and Janelle were both pleased and delighted when Etra accepted the invitation, but though the women made their interest known, and Etra seemed to reciprocate, by the time the meal had ended, they had watched in awe as Etra consumed enough food for five women to replenish energy lost, and was forced to sleep off her necessary gluttony alone.

With Etra comfortably ensconced in her bed for the night, Tori and Janelle retreated to Tori's quarters, where Tori discovered that Janelle was witty and achingly sweet, while Janelle learned that Tori was devoted and astonishingly lonely, and the women bonded over their shared experience in Etra's story, and more.

Neither much minded Etra's absence, though when they fed each other fruit and sweet-tasting breads over lunch, to help each other recover from a night as interesting as their day, they were saddened to learn that Etra left early in the day, but with promises to return to them someday.

Janelle remained with Tori for more than a month, learning the lady of the castle and being learned in turn, but soon, she was forced to return to parents and siblings that missed her and needed her to take care of them.  Tori sent gifts of food, cloth, and toys home with Janelle, happily accepting freely-given promises to return.

Janelle craved travel and frequent change of scenery, so even though she had Tori's patronage and love, she continued her work as a merchant, selling and trading far and wide.  She visited Tori often, occasionally bringing her family to join her, until soon, Tori considered Janelle's family her own, a distinction they accepted with pride.

Before long, the people of Tremaine considered Janelle and her family as much a part of Tremaine Castle as their Lady Tori, because rather than exploit Tori's kindness, Janelle's family found ways to help and improve Tremaine, and its lady as well.

Years came and went, and though Tori and Janelle sometimes thought of the storyteller who'd brought them together, they were happy together, even when Janelle's absences left Tori aching for her love, and Tori's refusal to travel left Janelle aching in much the same way.

When Etra returned to Tremaine Castle, it was shocking and unexpected, the tall woman deathly ill from escaping slavers she met while in the distant, cold north, her spirit deeply poisoned by the iron that had burned her body in reaction to the magic it possessed.

Etra had needed somewhere safe to return to, and Tremaine Castle, so far from the cold of the north, and home to at least one person Etra remembered wanting her presence, seemed like the perfect place to come to, even after so long away.  She was, of course, quite right.

Tori tended Etra while Janelle, having traveled widely, explained to Tori that the northerners were prone to kidnapping any woman capable of magic and attempting to use said woman to obtain magic for their daughters, born of a northerner and a southerner, as the northerners had no magic of their own.

Etra could not get pregnant, and would have thus been useless to the northerners.  The only reason Etra was able to escape was because her captors did not realize her powers extended beyond illusions, which were merely what she was most skilled at, and she was able to use it to return to Tremaine when they set her loose in their snowy woods, with intent to hunt her like an animal.

It took a long time, but between Tori and Janelle, they were able to restore Etra's body to health, and though Etra's mind had suffered from what she'd endured, Tori and Janelle learned how to navigate those painful places, to make Tremaine Castle a safe place for Etra to be.

Etra tasted of Janelle the first time she kissed Tori, and it was an old, familiar flavor combined with a new and exciting one that made Tori fall in love with both women, all over again.

Soon, though, even love and old fears could not curb Etra's wanderlust, and with Janelle as her companion, Tori felt she needn't worry too much about where her lovers went or how long they were gone, though the days without them were long and slow, causing her to turn to Janelle's family, now Tori's as well, more and more.

Janelle's niece, Dana, was clever, and she loved Tremaine as her own, so Tori began grooming the girl to be the new lady of Tremaine, waiting every day for her lovers to return to her when she was not occupied with such grooming, and the matters of Tremaine that so occupied the bulk of her time.

It was a joyous day in Tremaine when Lady Tori's loves returned home, both glowing with pride in work well done, each their own, and both fiercely missing their shared love.  And share they did, occupying the rest of Tori's night and much of her next day, showing her how much they'd missed her.

After only a few days with Tori and Janelle, Etra soon insisted that she was ready to set out for her next adventure, even that she'd stayed too long, to both her lovers' dismay: Janelle, because she'd only just reunited with her family after time away, and Tori, because, like Janelle, she didn't want to see Etra leave so soon.

For their sake, Etra stayed another week, and then, she was gone again.  The next years were hard on Tori, for Etra could not be kept home for longer than a few days at a time, not returning for months at a time, and Janelle frequently got itchy feet before Etra returned, and would often leave Tori without either of her loves for weeks, sometimes months at a time, especially if they left at the same time, though she still saw Janelle most frequently.

Things changed when Tori got pregnant.  She had made her desire to have children known to both her lovers, and while Janelle had no desire to be pregnant, and thus took measures to ensure Etra could never give her one, she had assured Tori that if a child came along, she would be happy to dote on that child as one of its mothers.

When Tori learned she was to have Etra's child, Janelle promised to relay the message to Etra when the two travelers' paths inevitably crossed, as neither was prone to using backroads or obscure routes, for no people could be found there to support their work.

Tori was six months along, her belly beginning to swell when the women returned to her, together, for once in a rare while, and Tori was relieved when both promised to stay close until the baby was born.

The next few years were blissful for Tori, who needn't pine for her lovers' presence while they were away, only seek them out in her home.  Janelle, more accustomed to remaining in one place for longer periods, handled the time rather easily, learning some of what her niece knew, and some of what the rest of her family had learned to help Tori as Tori's pregnancy took a toll on her, and Etra's illusions and tactics from distant lands helped Tori and the people of Tremaine in still different manners.

Etra was less content with her restiveness, and took long rides throughout Tremaine to learn and entertain the people, sometimes with Janelle, and sometimes alone, though when the baby was born, she doted on the child as much as Tori and Janelle.

The child was named Morgan, and when Morgan was old enough to walk and ride a horse, Etra insisted that an expedition was necessary, taking Janelle with her and Morgan.  Tori had never been more terrified in her life, but when Janelle eventually brought Morgan home, explaining that Etra had continued on alone, Tori was relieved her child had returned healthy, as well as a little saddened that life had returned to what it once was, even understanding that her life smothered her Etra.

Fortunately, Etra returned home more often, frequently to sweep Morgan away, sometimes to bask with her family, Janelle and Tori and Morgan, the four of them all together.  As Morgan grew, Etra was also able to enjoy more intimate time with her lovers, staying home longer to do so.  Janelle, of course, also resumed her traveling ways, often taking Morgan with her, and Morgan would frequently leave with one traveling mother and return with the other.

Tori laughingly resigned herself to the fact that she had a family of wanderers, and when Morgan struck out alone, Tori had a third party to await the return of, with reunions being happy affairs, and occasions when they were all together, usually Morgan's birthday, even happier.

The love of Morgan's life turned out to be a northerner, to terrified shock and awe, but the tales of love Morgan carried back were enough to sway Janelle and Etra, the frightened Tori resisting for a long time, out of memory for pain caused her lover.  It took visits from Morgan's new family to convince Tori that, if nowhere else, Morgan was safe with them.

Even so, Tori did everything she could to tempt Morgan's new family to Tremaine, where her child would be close, and the dangers posed by the northerns would be minimized, but their home had been with them for centuries, and Morgan wisely pointed out that Dana, training under Tori's tutelage, was better-suited to look after Tremaine than the wanderlust-filled Morgan.

With a heavy heart, Tori traveled from Tremaine for the first time in her life, to attend Morgan's wedding.  The trek was frightening, remembering the experiences Etra had endured, and being amongst so many northerners was disorienting, but with Etra, Janelle, and Morgan to show her the way, Tori found the trip enjoyable, leaving Dana to do what she had been learning to do for decades.

Tori was happy to return home, and though she was sad Morgan was so far, the distance and the travel exhilarated Morgan, who visited often, frequently with gifts and messages conducted from Etra or Janelle as Morgan's route crossed theirs.

The years passed, and the travels of Etra and Janelle slowed, fewer trips out happening each year, those trips lasting shorter and shorter periods of time.  Tori wanted to be happy, but she knew it was because her lovers were becoming less and less capable of doing what they loved, which saddened her greatly, because it was their passion.

To their pained shock, Etra was the first to pass, burned out by her powers, and though Tori tried to console Janelle by traveling with her, Tori could not travel with Janelle as Etra had traveled with Janelle, and Tori soon gave up the effort.

Tori was the next to pass, her life of dedication to Tremaine having finally taken its toll on her body, and she was buried beside Etra.  When the grief-stricken Janelle followed her into death a year later, she was buried on the other side of Tori, the way the new lady of Tremaine thought it should be.

Morgan mourned the deaths of three mothers, but time softened the most painful edges, and Morgan left Tremaine in the most capable hands it could be left in, allowing the Castle and its surrounding area to flourish, until noone was left alive who remembered the Lady Tori, the Illusionist Etra, and the Merchant Janelle, who loved each other so.