Experience Tumblr Like Never Before
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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Albus Dumbledore, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Ginny Weasley Additional Tags: Love, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Slow Build Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Established Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Internalized Homophobia, the Dursley’s suck, Godfather Sirius Black, Godfather Remus Lupin, Sirius Black Lives, Remus Lupin Lives, (but there is still a war so some people still die), starts in third year, finishes after the war, (this may be a monster), brief mentions of past abuse Summary:
Everything changed in third year.
It really should have been insignificant in the grander scheme of things. Magic was real, Harry was the Boy Who Lived, and He Who Must Not be Named was back. There were so many more important things to think about.
So why was Harry so hung up on the fact that Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were in love?
Or how Harry accidentally fell in love with Draco Malfoy. (And it might have been the best thing that ever happened to him … or the worst)
Chapter 7 of the Crescent’s Ascent is out!! I’m already working on chapters 8, 9 & 10 and boy are things getting intense! I still can’t understand how I can love Leo so much but want to put him through all this. Like I’m writing it, but I keep deviating from my plan and adding characters and chapters that were nonexistent when I started planning this.
(BTW thank you all so much for 74 kudos! It might seem like a small number to some of you, but it’s my first Rise fic and my second fanfiction overall and I only received 4 kudos on the other one. I’m so happy people are liking it!)
Also in case you haven’t read it yet, basically if you like Leo angst, manipulative Big Mama, worried brothers, trauma and amnesia mashed together then this fic is for you! I update on Mondays and Fridays :)
You can check out the fic here 😊
I made a new account for my wof headcanons! The account name Is spookymyloveisinfinite and if you want more talking content from me and not just art you should check it out!
(Sorry the name is so long, I had to pick one that was at least related but not the same and alot of the names we're alr taken so-)
You should check out my really cool art blog 🙏‼️🔥 @freaky-aceblog
ೃ Random cod ghosts hc༄༊·˚
Warning: emotional numbness, implied depression, Angst. Character: Hesh walker Song rec: Mice On Venus
○ Hesh Walker no longer looks in the mirror the way he once did.
○ It’s not melodrama. It’s just a quiet, unspoken truth. Since the day his father’s heart gave out and Logan vanished like dust on the wind, something hollowed out inside him. Not shattered — not broken in any obvious way — just emptied. A soft erasure, like someone had scraped out all the color from within him with the edge of a dull blade.
○ He doesn’t know what he's supposed to feel. Anger? Maybe. Sadness? Probably. Mourning? Grief? Words like those seem too clean, too neat. Emotions are supposed to arrive with names, faces, pulses — but what he feels doesn’t. It just sits there, shapeless and heavy, like fog that never lifts.
○ So he doesn’t say much. He doesn’t cry. Doesn’t rage. He does what he knows how to do: he keeps quiet and keeps working. The way a lieutenant should. The way he always has.
○ But the team notice.
○ They see the dark, sharp lines etched under his eyes — not just from sleepless nights, but from something deeper, something lodged in the bones. They see the tension in his jaw, the way he stands a little too still, as if movement might shake something loose inside him that he’s not ready to face.
○ Yet he remains what he’s always been: a born leader. Natural. Unyielding. Even when hollow, Hesh Walker is still the man others follow without question — the kind of man who doesn’t need to shout to be heard.
Every Sunday Forever (If That's What It Takes) (4011 words) by coprime, Kimmy, StripedScribe, SnowyOwl102, Marv_with_a_v, 42donotpanic, AUofGoldandFantasies Chapters: 1/8 Fandom: Daredevil (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson Characters: Matt Murdock, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson Additional Tags: POV Matt Murdock, POV Foggy Nelson, Time Loop, Aromantic Matt Murdock, Aromantic Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Queerplatonic Relationships, Queerplatonic Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Relationship Discussions, Coming Out, Self-Discovery, Queerplatonic Getting Together, Aromantic, Friendship, Round Robin, Angst, Fluff, Hugging, Magical Hugging Summary: Matt Murdock gets stuck in a time loop, reliving the same Sunday over and over. He tries to find a way to break the loop and the answer may lie in his relationship to his best friend Foggy.
Look! Me and my friends wrote a thing!
via Gridllr.com — grid view of your Likes!
Check it out
self portrait... blood warning under 'more'- first time actually trying this so my bad if it doesnt work....
i just think its neat
I Return!
As you might have noticed, I disappeared during the Tungle Purge back in December 2018, mostly because I couldn’t stand the policy changes. I’m back now in 2020 because I happen to want to get back to resource collection, as well as start a new project on this blog dedicated to reading and reviewing stories for the sake of learning more about the craft, inspired by a class I took earlier this year on reading as a writer!
Another part of the reason why I’m back is a little more self-centered, I’ll admit, because I want to get to know people who are not only interested in writing, but are also part of the industry since I’ll be graduating college this Fall with my BFA in Creative Writing! I have projects I’ve been incubating throughout college and hope to find at least a few people interested in reading books about gay sparkledemons, malevolent gods, and humans that eat hubris on a regular basis!
When last I was here, I posted about finishing my first NaNo stint— since then, I have tried NaNo one other time and didn’t quite finish it, but got the start of a nice new story that I have on the back burner in favor of finishing another project and worrying more about another. I’ve also written many more papers on not only writing but also literary analysis. If you’re interested in those, too, why not hop in and let me know?
If you’ve missed me since then, I’ve been @Baldinerd on Twitter! I can’t curate content there like I did here on Tumblr, but if you want to check out some of the art I’ve posted these last few yearsish, check the media tab out!
In the next few days, I’ll be revising my “About” page, as well as getting back to reblogging posts and resources for consideration! Enjoy!
-Rook
yandere!Alastor with gender-neutral!tinkerer!reader headcanons
Warning: obsessive behavior, implied violence, stalking, implied manipulation, and knowledge based on the 2019 pilot episode.
There may be possible triggers in this story.
If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.
You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!
If you would like to read the SFW version of these headcanons, there are some written by @isuckatwritingsobenice. I will leave the link to them here.
Special thanks to @isuckatwritingsobenice, @angelltheninth, and @ceoofdabicorpsensfw for providing feedback and helping me shape up these headcanons into what they are today, my first Hazbin Hotel fic in quite a long time!
If you would like to me to keep up the momentum and write more for Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss, please let me know via a request or in the comments section below!
With that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy the show! :)
Alastor is someone who thrives on entertainment. Seeing the scourge of Hell striving to redeem themselves in Charlie’s hotel, only to fail as soon as they gave into the vices they’ve been trying to cure themselves of? That’s the only reason he agreed to help the princess with her passion project. He needed some inspiration after lacking it for so many decades!
He will not fall for someone who is naive and oblivious to the dangers that lurk around every corner. His preference for a darling is someone who is intelligent, yet malleable to his manipulative machinations, though he would call it being a considerable gentleman.
So, imagine his surprise when you, the maintenance operator Charlie had hired during the hotel’s open house after being thoroughly impressed with your resume, piqued his interest. He had heard that you were very good at repairing broken things. Whatever it was that needed to be fixed, you could do it efficiently and with a smile.
The only thing you would not touch, however, were Angel’s sex toys. He found you at Husk’s bar, whining and clutching what looked like a purple cucumber with a white handle, coated in….an unknown substance. You looked at it, then back at Angel, confused and blinking owlishly at him. You asked him to hold it up in the light so you could see it, just don’t let it touch you because…well, you really did not want to.
The adult film star did, and you tilted your head to the side, staring at it for a moment before pulling away.
“It should be an easy fix.” You said. “Do you think it is a higher priority than preventing the hotel from being flooded with water?” You asked, glancing up at him. The genuinity in your voice as you spoke to him, curious and asking if fixing his device is really more important at the moment, made Alastor chuckle from the shadows. Dear ol’ Husker looked like he was about to keel over from laughter too~!
“If it’s an easy fix like ya say it is, then yes!” Angel whined. “I need it fixed by tomorrow! Can ya maybe work on it, like, after you make sure this place doesn’t get flooded?”
You blinked. “That shouldn’t be an issue. Okay. Did you try looking for the manual in the box it came in?”
“There’s a manual for it in there?!”
You nodded. “There should be. Or at least a phone number for customer service.”
Oh, such dialogue between two unique characters brightened Alastor’s mundane afternoon considerably and deepened his interest in the ever diligent and mild-mannered sinner who never seemed to stop working!
He watched you from the shadows, learning about your likes and dislikes and your….relationships with the others, clients and hotel staff alike. None of which, as he has seen, never went beyond the boundary of polite professionalism. Imagine his surprise when his shadow discovered your daily ritual to lock yourself in the maintenance office and curl up on the couch in there for an hour nap, and how you cannot sleep without the vintage radio on your desk being played on low volume. As much as he wanted to sweep you off of your feet with a night around the city and a lovely candlelit dinner, Alastor could not act too recklessly. That wasn’t how his mother raised him. No, no, no, he was a gentleman!
And a gentleman knows how to bide his time in the art of courting. Expect him to flood your office with bouquets, expensive gifts, and a request to personally fix his microphone even when it was working just perfectly.
Who knows? Perhaps while you’re sleeping soundly, in your office or in your bedroom, he will turn the knob of your radio just a little to the left so it is the music of his radio station that fills the silence. Think of it as….insurance. With the magic he possessed as an overlord, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to comprehend that he did care about you in his own way. And he would like to think you will, in time, come to enjoy his music with a smile.
After all, you’re never fully dressed without one!
Bonus Content
If you accept his courtship, Alastor’s possessiveness will reach to the point where he will absolutely insist that you should move into his quarters and share the bed. For his peace of mind and your own protection.
After all, you’re his precious little doe. He wouldn’t want anything to happen to you in this cesspool~.
Taglist
@angelltheninth
@isuckatwritingsobenice
@selineram3421
@vikkirosko
@nixie-writes
@thatstonedwriter
@lbcreations-blog
@aurora-rose-miller
@yosemitecleo
@doc-tooth
Perhaps You Would Like To Read My Book For Free?
Hi! I would like you to read my book. In fact I'd like you to do that so much that the e-book is literally free.
In The Princess and the Peaches we follow Ethan, a young man with a lot of heart, and not much spine, who is struggling to run a small failing grocery store after the untimely death of his parents. Ethan also has the misfortune of being a thoroughly Normal Guy in a world where fairytales are far more fact than fiction.
Ethan has always lived with the understanding that magic was quite firmly None of his Business, but when a wayward Princess falls victim to a curse inside his shop, he is informed by an iron-fisted Fairy Godperson that it has suddenly become Entirely his Business.
As a result, Ethan is forced to deal with flirtatious dragons, sadistic Princes, and more than a few deep seated insecurities.
So look, I won't insult you by trotting out all the tropes I've jammed into this baby. You're cool. We're cooler than that. However, I will say that if you're looking for a read that's fresh, and funny, I truly believe you'll enjoy my book.
Also it's free. Like seriously, no strings attached, free. It's available through these venues:
Google Play to follow soon! If I still haven't convinced you, fear not! You can read the first two chapters right here, after the read-more. Now I'm gonna go, because self promotion makes me feel like I'm chewing glass.
Chapter 1
It was always the same dream.
For twenty-some years Ethan Green had enjoyed placid, peaceful sleep. He'd had boring, pointless dreams and loved it. Then everything had changed, and now, for four years, it had been the same stupid nightmare, every single night. He drifted through it, carried along in its insistent, unchanging rhythm.
He passed through the living room, warm and full of light. Meandered towards the door, his stride easy and unhurried. At this point, Ethan always somehow felt calm, even eager, despite knowing how this was inevitably going to end. Reflecting on it later, he knew it made a sad kind of sense. This was the only way he could see them now.
He heard them before he'd even reached the door. Laughter so deep and loud it sounded like trains passing outside the window. Then a quiet, lilting tone, rising and falling like birdsong.
With one twist of the handle, one swing of the door, he stepped out into the bright, sun drenched storefront, and for just a brief moment, everything felt right.
Ethan's gaze traveled over the deep velvety green of the walls, the worn pine floor, dappled with light. He looked at the big, arched windows, draped in the same old green gingham curtains, heard the quiet chatter of customers, and now, just like every time, he could swear he smelled the scent of sweet, ripe peaches.
And then came the moment he always anticipated. His view swept from the windows, to the neat, trim counter waiting at the front of the store, over the battered old till, up into the lively, animated face of his father.
He was exactly the way Ethan remembered him. Big as a bear and nearly as hairy, booming with laughter, his rough, calloused fingers almost too large for the spindly keys on the register. Ethan took in his twinkling eyes and crooked grin fervently, as if to fix every minute detail in his memory.
And then there, nestled in amongst the bins and barrels of fresh fruit was his mother, as small and willowy as his father was large, but no less intimidating. Her voice was bright, her movements brisk and efficient. Ethan watched her long, elegant hands tug trimly at the curtains and found himself remembering the way they'd often done the same at the collars of his shirts.
Ethan basked in this moment, like the sight of a sunset, brief and fleeting.
Because of course, it never lasted. It started with the windows, like Every. Single. Time.
Small cracks, that began to spread, like ugly, spiraling spider webs, reaching greedily for the corners of the panes, until suddenly with a deafening crash, the air was full of cascading shards of glass. As usual, his parents made no reaction, still cheerful, unshaken. Ethan always tried to reach them, even while knowing it was pointless.
"Dad!" He cried, working off the same unending script. "The windows! What's happening!?"
His father turned to him, a placid smile in place.
"It's alright, kiddo, don't worry. I know you can handle it." He replied in his deep, bass rumble.
Ethan stared down at his feet, shifting through the piles of shattered glass.
"But dad-"
Then the fruit would go. Where there was once jewel-bright piles of fresh, ripe produce, suddenly there would be putrid mounds of rotted fruit, their stench overpowering.
"Mom!? How did this-!?"
His mother would give him that soft, exasperated look, like he'd forgotten to comb his hair again.
"Ethan, it's okay, honey. We know you'll take care of it."
And then came the groaning, rending sound of splintering wood, and Ethan's heart would drop into his stomach. The long beams overhead would begin to tear, shaking dust from the ceiling. Every inch of the walls would begin to crack and buckle.
Ethan would look to his parents, still blissfully smiling back at him. "Everything's falling apart! Can't you see it!? Come on, help me!" He'd cry.
"Ethan calm down," His mother would laugh, "Everything will be fine." "Yeah kiddo," His father would add with a grin, "You'll just need to take care of it."
And like every time, Ethan would find himself brought up short, paralyzed. He'd stand in the midst of the destruction, his whole life going to ruins around him, and he'd be useless.
"You can do it." His father would add, with such perfect, maddening certainty.
"But…" Ethan muttered, as always, his voice strangely clear among the chaos. "But I don't know how."
Ethan awoke, a few seconds before his alarm, like always, just a little too late to stop it from going off. It's grating, jangling tones piercing straight into the center of Ethan's brain.
He levered himself out of bed immediately. A Green did not snooze, he told himself wearily, not when there was work to be done. Ethan had never once in his life slept past the alarm and today was no exception.
Groggily, he shuffled into the bathroom and stared at his reflection. There was that curly mop of comb-destroying hair. There were those same, tired brown eyes. A nose a little too long, a mouth a little too feminine, a frame far, far too scrawny.
Nothing new here.
He went through his usual routine, dressing in the same white shirt, and the same green slacks he wore just about every day of his adult life. He slipped on the same, stiff loafers, and then… Well, then the apron.
He'd thought he'd have gotten used to it by now. He'd seen it on his parents since he was a child. He'd worn it himself since he was a teenager. But somehow, it still managed to give him pause. Probably because it was hideous.
Family legend said that his great grandmother had chosen the color because it reminded her of springtime, of freshness. Most people Ethan knew would never in their wildest dreams have come to these associations. Looking at it, the words of Ethan's best friend ran through his head.
"If that's fresh anything, it's fresh vomit. Unhealthy vomit. Go to the doctor, something's gone wrong, vomit."
But… It had been a family tradition for generations. It was the Green family's trademark.
And so, dutifully, Ethan put it on, tying it in a tight double knot, even though it made it near impossible to get off later. It was what he always did. It was how it had always been done.
With heavy feet, he trudged downstairs, into the living room. In truth, it looked almost no different from his dreams. Everything was still in its place, untouched, as it had been for four years now. A few low couches, huddled around the room, a tall bookshelf standing sentinel in the corner, a battered TV sitting silent nearby. The same pictures, arrayed on the mantelpiece, familiar faces staring out. It was exactly the same, an almost perfect monument to the way things used to be… except.
It was so empty. Ethan had managed to preserve every inch of the room, as though nothing had changed, but somehow, like sand slipping through his fingers, he hadn't been able to keep the life that had once existed here, the almost palpable feel of warmth and joy. Now, absence seemed to hang like dust in the air.
Well, that wasn't the only change. Slowly, Ethan made his way over to the bookshelf, and ran his fingers over the glossy, cool stone of the urn sitting high on its shelves. He muttered a quiet, customary, "Good morning." For a moment he forgot his rituals, forgot his duties, and let himself get lost.
The soft tinkle of the bell on the other side of the door jarred him out of his reverie though. There wasn't really time to pause, he reminded himself. With brisk, purposeful steps, he crossed the room and exited out of the dim, musty corners of his home, and into the bright halls of the storefront.
This too, like the living room, differed little from his dreams, although Ethan thought hopefully that the store at least, was less melancholy than the rest of the house. The soft light of sunrise was just filtering through the tall arched windows, catching in the gingham curtains, painting the pine floor.
There was no boisterous, laughing man behind the front counter though. Instead, there sat Todd… Or lounged Todd, his sandy, brush cut head lying in a nest of insultingly well muscled arms.
This too, Ethan had to concede, wasn't exactly new. Since Ethan had begun running the shop, Todd worked every morning, the same time, same as Ethan, and yet somehow stubbornly refused to adjust himself to actually being awake during sed time. And as he had every morning, Ethan considered that if Todd hadn't been his best friend, he'd probably have fired him by now. That, and he was pretty good at moving boxes.
Sighing, Ethan made his way over to the stool Todd had precariously perched himself on and gave it a lazy kick. Todd awoke with a start, scrambling to keep upright.
"Am I keeping you awake Todd?" Ethan asked with a weary smile.
"Bro, you are single handedly destroying my sleep cycle, but what else is new?" Todd replied groggily, "Why'd you wake me up? You don't even need me for anything."
"The produce shipment-" Ethan began.
"-Probably won't come until noon," Todd concluded sourly.
Ethan scowled. "You've noticed that too huh? He used to come first thing a few years ago… Now he's been coming later and later…"
"Fine by me, I'm in no hurry to play packhorse." Todd replied with a jaw cracking yawn.
"It's your job Todd. Being awake, by the way, is also your job."
"Yeah, when there's shit to do. Trust me, I'll be all over those boxes when they come. I'll hit those boxes like they owed me money. Fuckin' Prince of boxes over here. But for now, no boxes, no customers… So no Todd," He muttered, laying his head down again.
"Todd, come on man. You've gotta do something. Remember what dad used to say? If you've got time to lean-"
"- You've got time to clean, yeah I remember. And don't get me wrong bro, your dad was a regular fountain of wisdom, but it's gonna be a long friggin' day. The dust will still be there after my power nap."
Shaking his head, Ethan abandoned his efforts to rouse Todd and fetched his old push broom from its resting place nearby.
It was worn, it's bristles tattered, it's paint chipped, and it was heavier than a broom had any right to be, the shaft made of what Ethan suspected was solid metal, but it had been in the family for generations, and it fit in Ethan's hand like it was made just for him. Wearily, he took it and made a few halfhearted swipes at the floor, but had to concede that all he was doing was likely wearing more of the already thin varnish off the boards. He'd spent most of last night aimlessly sweeping too, after all. It wasn't like there were customers to keep them busy.
Todd looked up, and seemed to notice the despondent look on Ethan's face.
"Hey man, I'm just fuckin' around. You know I'll work hard today." "Yeah Todd, I know, I'm not really worried about you," Ethan replied quietly.
Todd stood and made his way over to Ethan, awkwardly clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry so much dude. Things will get better. Today's gonna be different! I can feel it!" Todd exclaimed with as much enthusiasm as one could have at six in the morning.
"I don't really want it to be different," Ethan sighed, "I'd rather things… went back to being the same."
Todd scowled. "Well, tough. I said today's gonna be different, and it will. You wait and see, bro."
"Alright," Ethan laughed, "If you say so."
As the day wore on, things certainly seemed far from different. As Todd predicted, the produce shipment came extraordinarily late. True to his word, Todd tackled the task with gusto. Ethan was forced to admit, when there was actual work to be done, Todd was a model employee. It was just sheer boredom that tripped him up.
Unfortunately, boredom was the one commodity they had in plenty at the store. Once the crates were squared away, the produce stocked, there was little else to be found, because as Ethan had predicted, only a few, meandering customers made their way into the store all day. Even fewer had bought anything.
As evening began to fall, Ethan gradually found that even he was running out of mindless busywork for himself, and so, he began to fall back on entertaining Todd's inane chatter.
"Hey, bro!" Todd called from the front of the store. From where Ethan stood, crowded in the far corner, surrounded by crates of fruit, he could only just make out Todd's frame leaning languidly on the counter, a newspaper in hand. "Did you read this story? The one in the paper today?"
"You mean that paper we're supposed to be selling?" Ethan sighed. "Yeah, whatever dude, listen up. Apparently there was a dragon attack in South Mills. Isn't that crazy?"
Ethan scowled. "A dragon? An actual like… wild dragon? I thought those were pretty rare."
"Yeah, I know right? I guess it's the first attack in like, five years or something," Todd paused, laying down the paper, "Hey… do you think something like that could happen here?" He added, in a tone far more hopeful than frightened.
"Here?" Ethan didn't even give the question a moment's consideration, "No way. That stuff happens out in the country, not in the middle of downtown. Not here."
"I dunno, could happen. Oh! like I heard from my cousin’s friend's sister, there was that place down on Pine St, that mom and pop diner? Anyhow, so I guess the health inspector was due to visit, and they were freaking out because they'd never make the grade, right? And then like, overnight, they get one of those… Uh, those little bastards… What're they called? Something like food… a muffin?"
"A Brownie," Ethan supplied wearily.
"Yeah! That's the thing! Anyhow, I guess one of those moves in, and suddenly the next morning their kitchen is totally clean and up to code! So see man, that kind of thing happens around here."
Ethan shook his head. "Don't hold your breath Todd. This place isn't exactly magical."
Ethan had always been vaguely aware of Magic, in the same way one could be vaguely aware that elephants existed. It was a part of life for some people, and sometimes interesting to hear about, but Ethan sure as hell didn't want it in his shop. A Green, he could almost hear his father saying, did not rely on Magic. Hard work, courage and love had their own magic, he would state, and it was all their family ever needed. Ethan held by this attitude dutifully… Not that anything remotely Magical had ever shown up at his door. Life at the shop had been blissfully routine for years, so much so that it was almost easy to forget that Magic even existed to begin with.
"Still, it'd be cool," Todd muttered.
Ethan smirked. "What, you want a dragon to come burn the shop down?"
Todd heaved a sigh. "Well at least then I'd get weekends off…"
Ethan paused, a twinge of guilt running through him. "Look…" He began awkwardly, "I'm… I'm really sorry you've had to work so much lately. It's just, you know, money's tight… I can't really afford to hire…"
"Bro," Todd cut in with a laugh, "Shut the fuck up man. I don't care. I didn't really mean what I said, you know that."
"I… Yeah," Ethan sighed, "I just… Feel bad."
"You always feel bad. Constantly. You're like a little rain cloud of pure downer. Come on, bro, don't take me so seriously. I don't."
"Yeah okay. Just, I don't wanna be that boss, y'know?"
"You aren't dude. Calm down. Sweep or something, that'll cheer you up."
"Great advice. Thanks, Todd." Ethan shot back sarcastically.
"Anytime." Todd replied with cheerful sincerity.
Aggravatingly, as closing hour neared, Ethan really was still sweeping.
There was no real aim. He just skated his broom around the shop, letting his mind wander, trying to keep visions of red ink and out of business signs out of his head. He was startled out of these thoughts however, by a sharp jab to the back.
"Ow! F-Fudge!" He muttered.
He heard Todd creak on his stool. "The spinning wheel?" He drawled lazily.
Ethan wheeled to eye the contraption in question. "Yeah, the stupid thing."
"Goddamn, that's got to be the fifth time this week. You'd think you'd steer clear of that thing by now.”
"You'd think…" Ethan muttered darkly.
He hated that spinning wheel. Hated it. Nearly every day of his life he'd had to dodge its spindle, jutting out into the aisles, taking up precious space. But his mother, and his grandmother, and her mother before that had been enamored with it. Made the place look rustic, they'd said, homey. Made it a death trap, Ethan thought murderously to himself. But still, he couldn't bring himself to remove it. It was a part of the shop. Tradition.
He was still rubbing his sore back when the smell met his nose. He felt his stomach sink. Rotten fruit. Again. Just what he needed. Striding over to the produce, he bent over the bin of peaches and poked at them experimentally. Their flesh gave way, revealing their slick, browning insides, releasing that same putrid odor. Ethan suppressed a groan of frustration.
"Todd!" He called.
"Yeah, what?"
"Did you forget to swap out yesterday's peaches?"
Todd poked his head down the aisle, scowling. "No man. I restocked those today, my own two hands."
"They're friggin' rotten again!"
"Again? That's weird. They looked okay when I stocked them, I guess," Todd shrugged.
"Well, they're garbage now," Ethan sighed.
Grumbling, Ethan seized a trash bag and set about the unenviable task of discarding the moldering peaches. He was so consumed by his frustration that he didn't even hear the bell tinkling on the front door. After a few minutes though, he couldn't help but notice Todd's frantic attempts to get his attention from behind the counter. "Bro!" Todd hissed, "Bro c'mere! C'mere c'mere!"
Ethan wasn't sure why Todd was bothering to whisper, considering that he was also windmilling his arms enthusiastically. With a sigh, Ethan set down his bag and wandered over.
"What is it, Todd?" He asked wearily.
"Check it, bro. Unbelievable," Todd breathed, gesturing down the central aisle.
Ethan followed his gaze. It was a girl. That was unsurprising. Todd never hesitated to point out a shapely looking lady or two, with just as much finesse as he was doing now. Ethan usually didn't humor these gawking sessions, a little too respectful and very much too terrified to scope out women, but this time, he found he couldn't quite tear his eyes away.
She was beautiful. Radiantly, impossibly beautiful.
She was short, but not too short, perhaps a full head below Ethan. Her hair was cropped startlingly, boyishly close, but it was a color that Ethan, though a not poetic sort, could only describe as honey-gold. Though she wore loose, casual clothes; a t-shirt, jeans, a scarf hanging about her neck, she bore them as if they were the finest regalia.
She stood near the coolers, inspecting a drink, and as she moved Ethan found himself taking in even the tiniest aspects of her delicate form. She had slender, perfect fingers. Rosy, cherubic, perfect lips. A pert, perfect nose. Indeed as Ethan stared, he began to realize that just about everything on her was perfect, in a very uniform, depthless kind of way. This idea suddenly changed his awe to unnerved fixation. There was something… uncanny about her.
If you'd asked a man to describe what a perfect woman looked like, aside from her haircut and clothes, they likely would have rattled off her exact attributes. There were no flaws, no quirks, nothing curious or odd on her body anywhere. Not a single freckle, beauty mark, scar, wrinkle. She was of perfect proportion, curvaceous, but not overly so. Her ears were cute ears, her brows were cute brows. Even before he caught sight of her eyes, he could predict their color, a pure brilliant sky blue. The entire effect was one of a lovely woman, to make no mistake, but something struck him as off. She seemed so… generically gorgeous. So… homogenized.
Still, she was a girl, and she was beautiful, and so Todd's next words brought a twist to Ethan's stomach.
"Go talk to her, bro."
Ethan whirled to face Todd. "What!?" He hissed.
"Yeah, dude, go talk to her! One of us has to! We can't let a babe like that walk out the door without saying something!"
"Yes we can! And why me!?"
Todd shrugged. "I know my limits dude. A girl like that? Wouldn't say two words to me. But you've got that whole kicked-puppy thing going on. Girls love that. Go talk to her."
"I… What?"
"Besides, you deserve a break. Maybe if you got a girlfriend you'd stop moping for once."
"I am not going to go over there and hit on her!" Ethan exclaimed, a little more loudly than he'd intended. He froze, panicked for a moment. Had she heard? He snuck a glance at her, but she was still staring impassively at her drink. He could have sworn he heard a snicker though.
"Relax dude. I didn't tell you to go ask her to marry you. Just say something to her."
"Like what!?" Ethan demanded quietly.
"I don't know man, like, "Hey, need help finding anything?" At the very least you gotta go help her out. It's good customer service."
Ethan paused. In a roundabout way, Todd was right. She was a customer, and so far all he'd done was stare at her. His parents would be mortified.
"Okay, well… yeah. I'm going to go help her. But I mean… Just because it's my job," He stammered.
"Sure bro. Good luck. I'll be here, thinking up baby names for you." Ethan scowled and shook his head, but nonetheless gathered his courage and began to approach the mystery girl. He saw her gaze slant over to him, and it hit him like an electric shock. Suddenly Ethan became painfully aware of his every flaw, and imagined a few new ones for good measure. Was he walking funny? Did he always walk like that? How did walking work again?
His suddenly stilted gait carried him to her, and as she stared up at him expectantly, he remembered that now he was supposed to talk. "Hhhh…." He began. It was supposed to be Hi, but the I had jumped ship somewhere between his brain and his lungs. "So, can I… find… anything?"
Somewhere, in the back of his skull, a cruelly rational part of him began dissecting his sentence, and concluded that it was at least missing a verb and a pronoun. It decided that the obvious remedy to this problem was to make him blush furiously. The girl bit her lip. Ethan wasn't sure what this was supposed to mean, but he had a suspicion it meant something, in the mystic language of girl.
"Uh, yeah, no, I'm just looking at the sodas," She replied with a fluttering smile.
She had a soft, lilting voice. The kind you expected to hear raised in song. Just listening to it Ethan had the impression that pan flutes and violins were on standby.
"Oh. Okay. Sodas are… good," Ethan murmured. He could hear Todd's hand hit his forehead all the way from the front of the store.
"Yeah, uh… right. So…" The girl murmured back awkwardly.
"So…" Was all Ethan could manage to reply.
He knew this was his cue to walk away. But he just… couldn't. It was as if something intoxicating was radiating off this girl, like a perfume. It fixed him to his place, denying him the dignity of a hasty retreat. He was struggling for some kind of rational explanation for this when the girl cleared her throat.
"Look," She began. Her lyrical voice had taken on a wearied, flat tone, to very odd effect. "I'm sorry. This isn't your fault."
"Wait, what's not my fault?"
"The awkwardness."
Her bluntness was surprising, but somehow Ethan found himself laughing. "Oh. No. I'm pretty sure it's all my fault. It's kind of what I do."
The girl laughed in return, and it sounded like bells. "No, seriously though. I have this effect on everyone. It's not just you."
Ethan's mouth beat his brain. "Well, yeah, because you're gorgeous."
From the front came the distinct noise of Todd falling off his chair.
To his relief and bewilderment, she laughed again. "Uh huh. I know. It's kind of part and parcel of the whole gig. I'm, uh… Well see, I'm a Princess."
Ethan blinked. Even as his mouth was saying, "What?" His mind was quickly putting the pieces together. It made sense, actually.
Up to now, Ethan had only seen Princesses on the television, generally being paraded as some kind of prize in reality shows. The formula was always the same, a few handsome Princes, some perilous trials, and in the end, a happily ever after, or so the tabloids purported. The Princess in question had always stuck Ethan as more of a prop than a person, bubbly, vacuous, grinning glossily as men risked life and limb in the pursuit of their hands, cooing breathlessly as they were carried away into the sunset like hunted pelts on the back of some ridiculous horse. And they all looked the same. A minor variation in hair or skin color, height, features, but nearly always the same, tame, brand name beautiful. Looking at this girl now, he realized that she fit the same mold perfectly, as though she'd been crafted on the same assembly line.
At any rate, Princesses, like Magic, were something that didn't happen to Ethan Green. So despite instantly believing her confession, it took a few moments for the gears in his head to restart.
"Yeah, so, I guess it's normal that you're… y'know, staring and everything," She muttered, "It's okay. Well actually it's not okay, I mean, it's kind of a pain in the ass, but it's not like you're the only one."
Ethan shook his head. "I… I'm sorry. I just… Why are you in my shop!?" He blurted.
The Princess regarded him frostily, a strange expression on her angelic face. "Excuse me?"
"No! No no, I didn't mean that like, 'Get out of my shop or anything' it's just that… Aren't you guys usually-?"
Her expression only darkened, her long fingers gripping the top of her soda viciously. "Aren't we usually what? Fawning out windows, waiting for our Prince to come? Embroidering our wedding gowns? What are you saying, 'Shouldn't you be in your tower?!'"
"No! No, jeez, no," Ethan cried, holding his hands up placatingly, "I just… You're here, doing… Normal people stuff. I mean, Princesses aren't… Normal."
Somehow, he knew it was the wrong thing the moment he said it. Still, he didn't expect the tears that sprang up in her eyes.
"No. We're not. Thanks for reminding me." She seethed. Roughly, she jammed the soda back into the cooler, and wheeled around. Ethan expected her to storm off, but instead she froze.
"Miss? Please Miss… Uh, or your highness, or… whatever. I'm sorry." Ethan stammered out.
She didn't turn, didn't move.
"Miss? Are you alright?"
He walked as close as he dared to her. She was still fixed in place, and as Ethan watched her, he could see she was barely breathing.
Baffled, he followed her gaze. She was staring, wide eyed, unblinking, at the spinning wheel.
She let out a small, defeated breath. Spoke only two words.
"Oh, fuck."
Then, moving like a woman possessed, she stepped forward, stretched out a hand, and pricked her finger on the spindle. Then dropped like a sack of rocks.
Chapter 2
Ethan gaped for a second, staring at her sprawled body, stepping away from it like it was toxic. It took him a few seconds to find his voice. It took him longer to form actual words.
"Oh fu- Oh sh- Oh God. Oh god oh man. Ohhhhhh god oh man oh god…"
"Bro?" Came Todd's voice tentatively from the front.
"TODD!"
"Whoa, Bro, what!?" Todd called, scrambling out from behind the counter.
"TODD!" Ethan cried again, pointing to her prone body.
"OH SHIT!" Todd yelped, jumping back. "WHAT THE FUCK, BRO!? I told you to talk to her, not club her like a fucking seal!"
"I didn't! I was talking to her, and then she flipped out, and then she… died?"
"OH FUCK, IS SHE DEAD!?" Todd roared.
"I DON'T KNOW! I don't know! I don't know, I just… SEE THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I TALK TO GIRLS!"
Todd let out a small burst of hysterical laughter. "Oh shit, Bro, you're a real lady killer."
"NOT FUNNY!"
"Okay. Okay, just chill, just… Just chill," Todd took a deep breath, ran his hands through his crop of hair, "Okay. First aid right? Do we check her pulse, or… CPR? Mouth to mouth?" He offered vaguely.
"I wouldn't recommend that." Came a dry voice from behind them. Both of them jumped. Todd let out what could only accurately be described as a squeal.
Whirling, Ethan came face to face with the most bizarre looking woman he'd ever seen in his life.
She wasn't quite young, but she wasn't quite old either. Something about her eyes suggested a certain august maturity, but her face had a glossy, flawless quality to it, not unlike the Princess. Her hair was a faint lavender, pulled into a rather intricate bun at the crown of her head. In truth, everything about her was lavender, from her severe, sensible pumps to her glittering, wire rim spectacles. She even seemed to emanate a nearly imperceptible lavender aura. Her clothes smacked of the same sickly hue. Ethan was just a bit at a loss for how to describe them though.
It looked like a pantsuit, tailored by someone given only the barest description of what that entailed, and with a fanciful imagination. Flairs and curlicues and embroideries plagued the thing. Ethan absently made out that her buttons were in fact twee little violet butterflies.
And then of course, there were the wings. Gossamer, gaudy affairs, in the same precise shade of Lavender. They reached above her head, and came to an almost menacing hooked peak. They swallow-tailed beneath her, trailing just above the ground.
Ethan absorbed all of this in just a few stunned seconds. Sheer panic made him a studious observer. As the shock wore off, he felt Todd, gripping his arm so hard he was losing sensation.
"Whathafuckisthat?" Todd squeaked.
The woman… person… thing, straightened her glasses and scowled. "My name is Louise. I'm your Godperson attendant for this juncture," She answered. Her voice was somewhere in a bland, middle range, sterile and professional, the type of voice one chose for answering machine menus.
"Our what?" Ethan breathed.
"Here, take my card." She twiddled her fingers and in a blink of an eye a small card appeared in her hand, lavender of course. As Ethan took it, he noted absently that it gave off a strange, nauseatingly sweet smell.
"Wherethafuckyoucomefrom?" Todd cut in again.
"I teleported. Standard procedure. Much more efficient than flying,"
She stated as if this were self-evident, "Now, before we continue chatting, I have to observe protocol," She cleared her throat, staring Ethan square in the face. Her eyes were god damn lavender colored, "We have received notice that on these premises, a Princess has succumbed to a Curse, and as such as initiated her Trial Phase." She had a remarkable ability for pronouncing capital letters. Everything was said with an inflection of slight annoyance.
"Uh, Miss Godperson… Louise. Ma'am. May I ask a few questions?" Ethan ventured, struggling to tread water.
"By all means."
"Okay. So. Princess?"
"Her." Louise replied flatly, pointing to the girl sprawled on the floor.
"Okay… Curse?"
"The Spinning Wheel's Spindle. A rather old fashioned method. Usually avoided nowadays, the whole Coma business can put Princes off rather a bit, but it was deemed… Necessary in her case. Nonetheless, it was rather hard to trigger. I have to say I'm grateful for your assistance in that matter."
"Assist? I didn't push her into the thing!" Ethan exclaimed.
"Of course not. It would have drawn her in the moment she saw it. All the same, I'm glad you have one lying around. They're hard to come by."
"I… Yeah, sure… Anyhow. Uh… Trial Phase?"
"Ah, now here is where we really talk business. Are you the owner of these premises?" She demanded, fixing Ethan with a piercing gaze.
For a moment, Ethan almost said no. Some part of him still knew it as his parents' house. Their shop. Their home. But no, it was only his now.
"Yes. Yes I'm the owner," He nodded.
"Well then, as such, you are required, by code, to permit the use of these premises for use in the Princess' trials, and house her person until such a time as the trials are complete and a suitable Prince has awoken her."
"Waitwaitwait," Todd chimed in, "Trials? Like… Those crazy fuckin' things we see on TV? Riding up glass hills, and slaying dragons and shit?"
Louise looked at Todd as one might regard a diseased dog. "Yes, sir. Those sorts of trials. It's customary, once a Princess enters her Trial Phase, for Princes to compete for her hand. The onus of hosting these trials always falls on the owner of the-"
"Premises the Princess conks out on," Ethan surmised.
"In the cases of Magically Induced Comas, yes," Louise agreed.
"So you're going to roost a dragon in my SHOP!?" Ethan roared.
"There's no need to become excitable," Louise huffed, "Any and all damages you suffer will be compensated for. Honestly, most people are delighted to host Trials. It can be quite lucrative, you know."
"Lucrative?" Todd mumbled.
"Indeed. If you so choose, many Media outlets are happy to televise the proceedings, and pay a handsome fee for the privilege."
"No," Ethan replied firmly.
"Are you sure? It's quite routine nowadays," Louise replied airily.
"No. No media, no money, no… No trials! I don't want this! Take the girl but leave me alone!" He cried.
A look of frosty severity crossed Louise's face, momentarily contorting it into something that appeared not entirely human. Both he and Todd backed up a step. "You Don't Have A Choice Mr. Green," She intoned, every capital crisp.
"But… But this is my shop! It's my family's shop, it's been ours for generations!" Ethan protested.
"From the minute that girl fainted on your floor, for all intents and purposes, this shop became property of Fate, Mr. Green," Louise insisted.
"You can't…"
"I can. I will. You have very little choice in the matter. What choice you do have, I suggest you exercise wisely." She put firmly. Ethan felt the argument close like a pair of iron doors. "Now, as I said, you can still make a fine profit from this venture-"
"No, I still stand by what I said. No cameras." Ethan pressed. She was right. If this was the only choice he had, he was going to make the proper one. The Greens did not indulge in spectacle. The Greens didn't caper for money. The Greens did not seek fame. These were truths Ethan understood as firmly as his own name.
"Suit yourself," Louise dismissed, "It's not required. All that is required is that you don't impede the process. Do what you like with the Princess' body. Whatever is most convenient. I warn you though, lest you get visions of glory, that kissing her would be ill advised. Or any other kind of… miscreancy with her body, but kissing will have the most adverse effects."
"I… What!? No! God no! I'm not kissing a girl in a coma!" Ethan exclaimed.
"Fuckin' right! That's creepy as balls!" Todd nodded.
"Good. See to it you maintain that attitude and I think we'll have a very amicable partnership." Louise declared cordially.
Ethan was less than reassured. He looked around his shop and fervently began to wish he really had told the Princess to get the hell out, customer service be damned.
"Oh cheer up," Louise pronounced. She sported something that it took several seconds for Ethan to realize was supposed to be a smile. "You're about to be aiding in the pursuit of True Love."
She pronounced the last two words in such a fashion that Ethan almost saw the letters TM floating after them.
"I… Okay?"
"Don't worry, dear," The endearment came off more than a little scripted, "I'll take care of the particulars. All you have to do is sit back and stay out of the way. Who knows, you may even find it entertaining."
"I… But… Okay?"
"Good lad. Now then. I have a lot of business to attend to. We must get cracking as soon as possible, very eager to wrap this case up. That being said, how does tomorrow night, around nine o'clock fetch you?"
"For what?" Ethan asked numbly.
"Well the trial of course!" Louise exclaimed, "Honestly, do keep up."
"Uh, well, it is after close," Ethan reasoned lamely.
"Lovely. Works for both of us. Good to see you're becoming more agreeable." Louise flashed another dubious smile.
"I… Yeah, no problem," Ethan replied dazedly.
"Well, if that's all that sorted, I'll be on my way. You can expect the Dragon sometime around Eight, I expect."
"The… wait, what, seriously!?" Ethan exclaimed.
"Good day!" Louise replied brightly. There was a slight flash, a small sound like rushing air, and then she was gone.
He and Todd stood stock still for what must have been minutes. When Todd finally released his grip on Ethan's arm, he left sweaty fingerprints on his shirt.
"Dragon," Ethan muttered absently, "She said Dragon."
"And you said this shit doesn't happen here!" Todd replied with a faint laugh.
"Why Dragons? Why here? Why… Why me?" Ethan whispered. He looked to Todd frantically. "Did I like, murder someone and forget about it? Kick some kittens? How did my luck get this bad!?"
"Well, you did get this chick zonked," Todd chuckled, prodding the girl with his foot.
"Don't kick her! God, what do we do with her? We can't just leave her here," Ethan moaned. Looking at her, sprawled on the hard floor, he already felt a bit guilty he'd ignored her as long as he had.
"We could prop her up in the corner, tape her eyes open, scare the shit out of shoplifters."
"Todd!"
"Alright, dude, just kidding."
"It'll have to be the couch I guess," Ethan sighed, "Come on, help me move her."
Awkwardly, Ethan bent and slipped his hands under her arms, and Todd obligingly gathered up her legs. Lifting her, Ethan found she was actually rather light. He guessed that Todd could have lifted her on his own, but it would have hurt his pride to admit he himself likely couldn't. Together, they shuffled her into the living room.
"She's not really breathing, Eh?" Todd ventured quietly.
Ethan had noticed the same thing. She looked still as death, but her skin was warm, her face rosy. "Yeah… It's creepy," He grunted as he struggled.
"Fuckin' creepy," Todd echoed.
Gesturing with his head, Ethan guided Todd over to the low, green couch set flush against the stairwell. "I don't know if her heart's beating either," He said as they laid her down.
Todd looked down at her, shook his head. "Nope. Nope I don't think it is."
Ethan shuddered. "So creepy."
Todd nodded, then considered a moment more. "Hey so… Hopefully that means she doesn't have to pee, right?"
"Oh jeez. Oh wow that's gross but, yeah."
"Or eat. Or drink or anything…"
"God, where is that stupid Fairy Godperson when you need her?" Ethan hissed.
"More like Fairy Godbitch. What a cu-"
"Todd!" "Country fried fool, as my grandma used to say," Todd recovered. Ethan shot him a smirk, but looking down at the stranger on his couch, he began to get the sensation that he was sliding down a very steep ravine. In actuality, it was a feeling he'd had for a very long time now, but the pace of his descent had gotten markedly faster.
"Bro? You okay?" Todd ventured quietly.
Ethan looked up, aware he'd been staring into space. "Yeah… I mean, well no, but yeah."
"I hear you. Weird fuckin' day, right?"
"Yeah, no kidding," Ethan laughed softly.
They fell into silence again for a minute. Todd seemed to become aware of his surroundings all of a sudden.
"Hey. I just realized. I haven't been back here in like, years. Man, nothing's changed," He remarked.
"Yeah," Ethan replied vaguely. He knew Todd hadn't. No one had, except for a few well-wishing aunts, uncles, cousins, but even they'd stopped visiting months ago. The Princess was the first person to make use of the couch in ages. It always felt too big to sit on alone.
"So what now man?" Todd asked hesitantly.
Ethan shrugged. "I guess… We just close up. Go to bed, right?"
"That's it? You sure I can't do anything else?"
"No. Wait, yeah," Ethan considered, "Can you… Can you get rid of that stupid spinning wheel for me? Just wrap it in a tarp and stick it in storage or something?"
Todd gaped openly, "Wait, for real?"
Ethan nodded wearily, "Uh, yeah. If it's not too much trouble."
"Hell no! I'd cart that fucking thing to an active volcano if you asked me, bro! But, I mean, I thought you wanted to keep it around. Because of… You know…"
Ethan knew. Some part of it felt like a betrayal, even thinking about discarding it. It was a piece of his memories, something his mother had been fond of… But he HATED it. The thing had stretched his tolerance just by hulking in the corner, but now it seemed it was actively trying to spite him. No more. It had to go.
"Yeah, Todd. I knew I said we should keep it around but… Well that's before I knew the thing was a friggin' Princess trap.," He laughed.
Todd chuckled in return. "It was like a freaking predator man! Waitin' for nubile young Princesses to wander into its clutches. It was probably practicing on you all these years."
"I don't look like a Princess," Ethan pouted.
"Sure, whatever you say, bro." Todd laughed. Turning, he strode on his heel, whistling cheerfully.
Copyright © 2025 by Jean Forest
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