I don’t generally celebrate my birthday. It became A Thing after my parents divorce, and since then, it is definitely a cursed day (last year I got a whole pandemic, so…)
This year, however, I decided I wanted to write me a story. Some months back, while scrolling through Facebook (I know, I know) I came across a post of a post that was a plot bunny. It was a tweet from user @JohannesEvans that read:
Hot goth in the woods that keeps answering the door and sighing and going “no, I’m not the witch, he lives over there” and points across the street to a dazzling pretty boy wearing a gold waistcoat who’s waving excitedly at them
I immediately wanted to write it. So I did.
Now, to no one’s surprise, I didn’t start this story until roughly a week ago, so… well, it’s almost done. So, for now, just to say I’ve properly celebrated my birthday, please allow me to share with you the first half or so of this silly story. It’s rough, really rough, and doesn’t have a title. I’m not thrilled with it, but… guilty pleasures, etc. Enjoy!
I don't generally celebrate my birthday. It became A Thing after my parents divorce, and since then, it is definitely a cursed day (last year I got a whole pandemic, so...)
This year, however, I decided I wanted to write me a story. Some months back, while scrolling through Facebook (I know, I know) I came across a post of a post that was a plot bunny. It was a tweet from user @JohannesEvans that read:
Hot goth in the woods that keeps answering the door and sighing and going "no, I'm not the witch, he lives over there" and points across the street to a dazzling pretty boy wearing a gold waistcoat who's waving excitedly at them
I immediately wanted to write it. So I did.
Now, to no one's surprise, I didn't start this story until roughly a week ago, so... well, it's almost done. So, for now, just to say I've properly celebrated my birthday, please allow me to share with you the first half or so of this silly story. It's rough, really rough, and doesn't have a title. I'm not thrilled with it, but... guilty pleasures, etc. Enjoy!
Quiet. That’s what the little alternative community in the woods had offered. Peace, acceptance, solitude. Quiet.
So Locke bit back a curse when someone knocked on his door for the hundredth time that day. Poppy seeds scattered across his work bench when he jumped because of course he hadn’t used a measuring spoon. Why would he use a measuring spoon for the smallest ingredient? Obviously, pouring straight from the bottle is the best way to measure poppy seeds.
The knocking persisted. Locke sighed and set the bottle down with a thud and rattle of chains. He stomped his way up front and tugged the door open, startling the pair of young women standing on his doorstep. Their eyes widened and the three of them stared at each other for longer than Locke thought was polite.
“Can I help you?” He didn’t growl. This was good communication skills.
The two seemed to shake themselves. “Are you Mr. Devereux?”
Locke sighed. “Which Mr. Devereux?”
They blinked and exchanged a confused glance. “We, um… we’re looking for a spell.”
“Then you want the witch.” He pointed a long arm over their heads toward the obnoxious display across the street. “That Mr. Devereux.” As one, they turned and Locke followed their gaze.
Sebastian was lounging in a pool chair, a cheap thing with neon yellow piping and no pool in sight. He was surrounded by colorful plants, flowers, and enough suncatchers to make any light fairy jealous. Locke was dismayed to see that he was sunning. Long legs, waxed and bronzed, stretched up to the hem of a pair of nautical striped boyshorts. A too small gold waistcoat revealed a pierced belly button and parted with sequined lapels and a collection of charms and pendants against his chest and the hollow of his throat. Golden blond hair was classically cut, cropped close to the sides and left almost strategically messy on top. Locke was not surprised to see the flash of glitter, either put there intentionally, or polluted from the obnoxious, glittery, sun-shaped sunglasses taking over most of his heart-shaped face.
His smile was almost blinding as he waved. “Hey, gorgeous!”
Locke frowned as his face went hot and wished for the hundredth time since moving in that he was the kind of goth that wore full face makeup. “That’s the witch.”
The women gawked at Sebastian, turned and gawked at Locke glowering in the doorway, and then looked at each other.
“Umm… sorry,” the apparent speaker of the duo said, and they turned and fled across the street, whispering to each other as they went. Sebastian stood and stretched, that waistcoat riding higher and those boyshorts hugging… well, everything. Locke sighed and shut the door with a snap.
Newlight Falls was advertised as a quiet town with a village-like atmosphere, tucked away in the old growth forest and home to those who didn’t fit in elsewhere. It was home to all sorts of paranormals, which included an uncommon amount of witches, plenty of fairies, and the obligatory pack of werewolves. Being that it was only an hour away from three major cities, it had become a bit of a tourist attraction, replete with warm-weather festivals that the fairies almost exclusively coordinated. Locke wasn’t a fan, but they were good for the town and good for business.
Even with all that, Locke fell in love with the place almost as soon as he saw it. He’d found the listing on Will’o, trying to find something close to the doctors he needed, but not directly in the city. Not only was his dark little cabin perfectly suited to him, but being back in the woods meant plenty of shade and long trails that he could disappear into if the festivities got to be too much.
It was also supposed to be haunted, which, perfect, but so far he hadn’t experienced much more than a few things being moved and a book or two knocked to the floor. No great shakes, really.
With the image of Sebastian’s sparkling navel piercing embedded in his mind, Locke sulked back to his work room to clean up the poppy seeds and see if the tea could be saved.
“Locke!” Benji’s happy voice boomed, big arms open and face nearly split by his smile.
Locke returned his smile but stayed sequestered on the front stoop out of the sunlight. Benji came to him without question, wrapping him up in the kind of bear hug only large goblins could give. He grunted and gave Benji’s back a pat as the air was squeezed out of him. “Hey, Benj.”
“Good to see you, you look good. This place looks great,” he said, stepping back to appraise the front of the house. To most, it needed some work, but Locke was partial to the busted exterior shutters and chipping grey paint.
“Thanks, the web is real, orb weaver, real beauty,” he said, motioning to the port window overhead.
Benji’s smile went tight and strained. “Love it,” he grunted like it hurt. He cautiously turned his attention away from the spider. “Thanks for letting me come.”
“Of course! Make my favorite sibling miss Fairy Fest after listening to him whine about it for ten years? Fat chance. C’mon, I’ll show you your room,” he said, motioning Benji in.
Benji grabbed his suitcase and thundered up the steps. “This place has a guest bedroom?”
“Eh….” Locke whined and didn’t answer further. It did, but the guest bedroom was where he’d put his workroom and it would have been too small for his hulking brother anyway. Instead, Locke had cleaned up his own bedroom and got a cot for his workroom. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable, but he could deal with it for the week that Benji was visiting. It wasn’t often they got to spend time together one on one.
They wandered in. Locke waved over the small living room, through the doorway to the small kitchen and dining nook, the water closet under the stairs, and then brought him up to the attic that made his bedroom and the full bathroom for his use during his stay. Benji caught on quick, but didn’t say anything, no doubt having considered how small the house was.
“We’ll have to share the shower, but otherwise, this room is yours for the week. I, uh… can’t say I’d be real thrilled if you picked someone up at the Fest, but, I’ll be the best wingman I can be,” Locke said, drawing the curtains back from the port window to let some light into the room.
Benji chuckled. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Thanks, man, this place is great. Mostly,” he said, eyeing the spider visible through the window.
Locke smirked. “Ghost isn’t too rowdy, either.”
“Ahha, of course you’d have a ghost,” Benji said with a self-deprecating laugh. Locke’s grin went cocky and he thumped his way back down the stairs.
“I gotta make a product run when dusk rolls around if you want to see the town proper tonight. There’s not a lot except some kitschy shops, but you might like one of the little restaurants for dinner,” he said, wandering into the kitchen.
Benji hummed and sniffed the air, eyes landing unerringly on the box that took up most of the little dining table. It was full of Locke’s teas, creative little blends in labeled linen baggies waiting to be delivered to the shops in town he was contracted with. “Sure, I’d love to see the place.”
“Cool, you can carry the box,” Locke said, wandering back to his workshop. Benji’s laugh made the windows rattle.
A few hours later, with the sun set enough that it didn’t irritate Locke’s eyes and skin overly much, he was leading an easily distracted Benji through town. The whole town was decked out for Fairy Fest, covered in lights and flowers and full to bursting with fairies. They flitted about in showers of sparkling color, some already celebrating by tossing petals or handful of pixie dust over the myriad of tourists also steadily filling the streets. Locke would have felt out of place in all his black and chains, but there were plenty of darker fae around, too. If anyone stood out, it was his rather large foster brother, his impressive figure causing people to practically dive out of the way, even as poor Benji apologized.
“Stop apologizing, Benj, you’re only walking,” Locke said with a smirk.
Benji was all tight frowns. “I feel bad, though.”
“Don’t, you’re fine. This is us, though,” he said, veering for a shop door. Benji followed, uttering a few more unnecessary apologies as they went.
The dark little mystic shop was one of Locke’s favorites. It was an evening shop and sold pretty much the same stuff that the rest of the kitschy shops sold, but it was themed dark. Spangled black and purple curtains and tapestries kept most of the natural light out, the shelves all made of cast iron and mahogany. The goods skewed toward occultish, but nothing available to the general public could cause any trouble. Even the obsidian athames were blunter than a letter opener. There were more exotic wares in the back, but the owner, Ms. Gloushire, was highly selective when it came to those sales. Even Locke, who was a resident, didn’t have her convinced, but he was getting there. Not that there was anything fancy he needed for his teas.
Benji, of course, veered right for the collection of polished stones and crystals. Locke grinned and teasingly hissed for him not to touch all of them. Benji glared at him but didn’t put down the peacock ore he’d already snatched from the display.
“Ms. Gloushire?” he called when he saw the front end empty.
“Is that you, Locke!?” a muffled shout echoed from the back.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sliding his sunglasses onto the top of his head.
A moment later Ms. Gloushire was whacking her beaded curtain out of the way and she smiled warmly at Locke before her eyes settled on Benji. “Oh, you have a friend today.”
“Yep. My brother, Benji,” he said. “I have the tea for you for the Fest. The Starry Night, Full Moon, and Crossroads.” He set his box down on her counter beside the register and pulled back the flaps.
Her face lit up and she rubbed her hands together. “Ooh, excellent. Everything work out all right with your last check?”
“Yes, ma’am, not problems at all,” he said, smiling softly.
“Good. All this newfangled equipment. I know it’s more convenient for the Norms, but electronics and magic don’t always mix well. But if everything’s fine, then it’s fine,” she said, casting her new POS system a distrustful glare as she dug into the box of teas. Locke just chuckled and waited patiently for her to finish her counting and inventorying. Satisfied, she marked it all down and set the box aside.
“All right, dear, everything looks to be in order. If I need anything else, I’ll call you,” she said.
“Yep, you know where to find me. I gotta stop at Coriander’s. You have a good night,” he said, flicking down his sunglasses.
“You too, Locke. Pleasure to meet you, Benji,” she said with a suspiciously sharp smile. Benji tittered nervously, thanked her, and they were off.
The stop at Coriander’s was brief and uneventful. Locke handed over the second box of teas, things packaged in lighter bags with more spritely names, while Benji was one again glued to the shiniest objects the shop had to offer. Even with Coriander chatting at top speed about a new topic every few seconds, they were done relatively quickly. He said his farewells to the bubbly sprite, flicked his sunglasses down, and turned toward the door, only to be blinded anyway.
Sebastian was in the doorway, pushing his outrageous sunglasses onto the top of his head as he meandered into the shop. As soon as he saw Locke he smiled and Locke frowned at the butterflies in his stomach.
“Hey beautiful,” Sebastian said, smooth and a little high. His eyes instantly flicked to Benji and his expression went briefly blank, before he smiled again and got a little swagger. “Well, well, who is this delightful new face?”
Locke glanced over his shoulder and wasn’t surprised to see Benji’s face dark with blush. His greenish skin and purplish blood made him look a little brown, but it was definitely a blush. Locke didn’t blame him.
“Sebastian,” he said. “My brother, Benji. Here for the Fest.” He cleared his throat before his voice broke and ignored the look Benji gave him.
Another expression briefly flickered across Sebastian’s face, this time more surprised than blank, and quickly settled into a coy grin. “Brother? Well, welcome to Newlight Falls, Mr. Benji. I’m Sebastian Devereux, Locke’s neighbor,” he said, sauntering forward and offering his hand. He was a head shorter than Locke, which had Benji nearly towering, but as usual Sebastian’s confidence was unwavering. Locke figured it would have to be with a neon pink sequin sarong over those...shorts.
“Good to meet you, Mr. Devereux,” Benji said. “Which neighbor would you be?”
“The one across the street, handsome. Incase you ever need to borrow a cup of sugar,” he said with a wink. Benji grinned stupidly and Locke nervously fussed with his lip ring. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have some tea to stock up on.” He winked at Locke, who barely resisted watching as Sebastian sauntered past. He huffed, tugging his hood closer to his face, and hurried out of the shop, leaving Benji to scurry after him. Maybe the hood and sunglasses disguised his blush enough? He certainly hoped so.
--
“So how are the infusions going?”
Locke looked up from pushing around his caprese. “Hmm? Oh, they’re fine. They’re infusions.” He cut a bite of cheese and tomato. “I had one last week and I think I’m scheduled for the week after next. Mostly vitamin D right now.”
Benji nodded, obliterating a half-pound cheeseburger and fries. “I remember summers are harder.”
Locke shrugged. “Yeah, but being here has been really great. The woods are so dense that I don’t always get a rash, so I can be outside more during the day.”
Benji’s face lit up. “Oh! That’s really cool! Mom and dad will be happy to hear it. See? I told them this was a good move for you.”
Locke huffed. “What, me telling them how great it is wasn’t enough?”
Benji waved him off. “You know how they are, they always worry about you.”
It wasn’t unwarranted. Locke had been a sick kid with all kinds of health issues and sensitivities, not the least of which was chronic anemia. At the time, being in and out of foster homes like he was, it had been difficult to narrow down his symptoms. Until Dan and Lori snagged him, the pale, scrawny, constantly exhausted thing that he was, and gave him a solid foster home to grow up in. Within the first year they’d discovered he had vampire heritage, which explained the majority of his weird symptoms. It wasn’t enough that he had to have transfusions, but it still meant he was anemic and allergic to too much direct sunlight. After that, with the support of his new foster family, Locke improved enough that he was able to finish school, and even got a degree.
Now, with a healthy lifestyle, he could live pretty normally, even if he still needed to be monitored monthly. Newlight, on top of being paranormally inclusive, also happened to be an hour away from the office that handled his case, which was still better than the two and a half hours he’d been traveling while still living near Dan and Lori. They might not have adopted him, but they still considered themselves his parents, and made quite the fuss when he moved so far away from them.
“Well, I really am doing great. You can tell them that I'm happy and healthy and even the ghost doesn’t bother me too much,” he said.
Benji snorted. “Lori would flip her lid if she knew you had a ghost.”
Locke grinned and didn’t think Lori would honestly be too surprised.
Other than the caprese salad, the choice of restaurant had been deliberate. It sat across from a stretch of woods with a marked path, and that path just so happened to let out a few yards from Locke’s house. The dark fae of Newlight loved to fill it with all sorts of mischief, some of which was quite pretty depending on the mood. With it being tourist season, and the endless woodland trails a huge attraction, Newlight had strict ordinances for what was and wasn’t allowed on the public paths. Benji was hesitant to take the woods home, but Locke assured him it was quite safe so long as they stayed on the path.
True to form, the woods were full of eerie giggles and mysterious lights, shrubs shaking and twigs snapping in the shadows along the lit path. The usual lamps that ran along the ground had been replaced with overhead string lights, zigzagging back and forth like a trail of will-o-the-wisps. Since the sun had finally set, Locke was able to shuck his hoodie and take off his sunglasses. Extreme temperatures had never really bothered him, but the summers could be pretty oppressive. It was nice to feel cool night air on his skin.
Half way home, a fairy appeared, a curvy woman in a diaphanous lavender dress and long, curling black hair. She hovered her way across the path, watching them with a wicked grin and shining black eyes.
“Evening, Iris,” Locke said casually. Benji made some choking noises behind him and Locke suppressed a grin, imagining his brother was blushing so hard he was almost purple.
“Hello, Locke. Who’s your friend?” she asked, moving a little closer.
“This is my brother, Ben.”
Her grin got even more mischievous. “Nice to meet you, Ben,” and she was off again, disappearing into the trees on the opposite side of the path. A symphony of chittering laughs hit them and Locke snorted.
“Wow,” Benji huffed as they kept moving, eyes nearly glued to the spot.
“She works in Mrs. Gloushire’s sometimes,” Locke said with a shrug.
“Oh yeah?” Benji mumbled absently, still searching through the darkness. Locke wanted to tease him, but it was his turn to blush when another fairy appeared.
“Hello, Galena,” he nearly deadpanned, glad it was so dark.
Galena was tall and willowy, built lean like a swimmer and burnished like bronze. He was dressed in what Locke could only call a poison green loincloth with a braided rope of poison ivy draped across him like a sash and pinning back half of his long, curling brown hair.
“Hello, Locke.” He did a little spin, purple wings beating wildly. “What do you think of my Absinthe costume?”
Locke blinked. “Isn’t that the same costume from last year?”
Galena scoffed. “You’re no fun!” he snarked, but blew Locke a kiss anyway and darted off again. Locke sighed and picked up the pace.
“Are the woods always like this here?” Benji nearly whispered to a chorus of laughter.
Locke shrugged. “No, they’re just excited for the Fest. It’s pretty quiet outside of tourist season.” Benji just hummed softly and got a little closer when something shrieked nearby.
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New chapters are already up to finish up the month, with two more scheduled for next week. Moon Lines is ramping up and Oswin has once again found himself in a troublesome situation and none the wiser for it. Poor Abel, always so abused.
I’m having so much fun with Bearcats and Bluenoses. I’m well ahead of posting and it’s killing me that I have to be timely about it instead of just dump it on everyone at once.
Here, have an excerpt.
A pretty man stepped through, removing his hat to reveal glossy, black hair, and he took in the three of them and the foyer. His coal-dark gaze was sharp, missing nothing with the way it lingered over everything, including each of them. Effie’s fingers tightened where they were folded together when those eyes settled on her, but a second later a warm smile softened the harsh look, making him prettier. Effie felt her cheeks go hot.
Instead of stepping forward to greet them, he stepped aside, and another pretty man took his place. Shorter and notably paler, he had bright hazel eyes and soft features, but his gaze swept the room just as sharply as the first.
Their eyes met and lingered. Effie watched his full mouth twitch in surprise then soften into a mischievous smirk. He removed his derby and strode into the foyer before the rest. His hair was also dark and glossy, the wavy strands combed severely back in an odd style Effie hadn’t even seen at Queen’s.
The first man stepped up beside the second and whatever strange spell their arrival had cast was broken all at once.
“Welcome, Mr. Ward. Might I say, what an honor it is to host a member of your household,” Florence said, pushing forward.
The second smiled. “Thank you. Mrs. Caffey, I presume?” All three of them startled at the sound. Florence managed to nod and… his?... smile grew incrementally.
Before anymore was said a hurried pair of footsteps echoed down the hallway that led back to John Caffey’s study. The man himself appeared a moment later, ignoring a sharp look from Florence. “Mr. Ward. Welcome,” he said, holding out his hand in the vague direction of the gathered group of strangers.
The woman, who looked near Florence’s age, looked dreadfully uncomfortable, while the two shared an amused look between them.
“Mr.” Ward stepped forward and took John’s hand. The hands were larger than Effie’s, but still clearly small against her father’s, even though the grip looked firm enough. “Thank you, Mr. Caffey. And it’s Ms. Ward, if you don’t mind.”
Enjoying the characters, even if they pull the story away from me here and there. I don’t normally write wlw, so it’s new for me, and new for readers. We’re also going to pretend there’s no war (please? I don’t write historical at all, can we just...please?). I don’t know if we’re on track to be as long as Eternal, but it’s definitely a novella at this point. Getting close to the end, though.
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What’s up starting the new year? (since I left everyone hanging over the holidays, which were surprisingly busy for me, not that that’s an excuse)
New Chapters of Moon Lines go up this week, putting us firmly in the meat of the story and heading toward some answers for Oswin and Abel.
Eternal’s final chapters are also up this week, with quite the spicy scene to finish things off (going out with a ‘bang’, if you will).
Since we’re finishing up Eternal, I would love to introduce everyone to the next novella: Bearcats and Bluenoses.
Ward Industries is well known for its eccentricities and taking leaps ahead of its time. Which was why few were surprised when, upon the death of his only son, John Ward chose his youngest daughter Ashley as heir to the business empire.
Ashley finds no end to her struggles as a woman taking over such a prestigious business and adapts a firm hand and sharp wit to bring skeptics to heel. The bustling cities and business centers are quick to adapt, but the small town subsidiaries give her no end of grief. Needless to say, when a subsidiary from a small, Appalachian town tries to turn in a business proposal - complete with the addition of the oldest son into the Ward’s New York central office - Ashley has low expectations for a warm reception.
Effie Caffey wanted out of the small-town life, and thought she’d made it when she attended College, until her mother summoned her home. Home was where she stayed, trapped by her lack of resources, and what looked to be like a soon-to-be profitable arranged marriage if her father had his way. It didn’t matter the number of times she reworked Mr. Caffey’s failing numbers and presented him with viable solutions that didn’t involve using her as livestock, in Mr. Caffey’s world, women were only good for one thing. Just as she’d had enough and was prepared to strike out on her own, resources be damned, a motely crew of big city big-shots arrives on her doorstep.
Bearcats and Bluenoses is a wlw “period” novella (I tried), and will be posting for the Bards and the Squires twice a month until it’s done, with the occasional chapter for Pages as Eternal finishes up.
The first few chapters of Eternal and Moon Lines are available free.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: Original Work
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Additional Tags: Steampunk, Magic, Rune Magic, kind of like vampires but also not at all, snarky rich boy, but he’s also a good guy
Summary:
Oswin Faraday is a high-born magician and inventor. Abel Mayson is a Hex kidnapped from a rural settlement for Hexes, those born without the magicians’ ability to access and harness the currents of energy in the Earth that fuel their magic. They find themselves unlikely allies as they are caught in the middle of a cult conspiracy that looks to be organized by Hexes out to right the decades of wrongs perpetrated against them.
Despite having more reasons than most to distrust Hexes, Oswin believes Abel when Abel insists that no Hex could be behind the nasty spell-work. Oswin must balance what he knows to be true through his previous work as a government magician and the evidence in front of him, even if that evidence is particularly kissable.
Moon Lines: Chapter 6 is up for Squires. Chapter 2 is free to read. Squire tier is 4 chapters ahead, but Moon Lines updates twice a month, so there will be another chapter in 2 weeks!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: Original Work
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Additional Tags: Steampunk, Magic, Rune Magic, kind of like vampires but also not at all, snarky rich boy, but he's also a good guy
Summary:
Oswin Faraday is a high-born magician and inventor. Abel Mayson is a Hex kidnapped from a rural settlement for Hexes, those born without the magicians' ability to access and harness the currents of energy in the Earth that fuel their magic. They find themselves unlikely allies as they are caught in the middle of a cult conspiracy that looks to be organized by Hexes out to right the decades of wrongs perpetrated against them.
Despite having more reasons than most to distrust Hexes, Oswin believes Abel when Abel insists that no Hex could be behind the nasty spell-work. Oswin must balance what he knows to be true through his previous work as a government magician and the evidence in front of him, even if that evidence is particularly kissable.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/12
Fandom: Original Work
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage, Rape/Non-Con
Additional Tags: Cult, cult escape, Emotional Hurt/Comfort
Summary:
Lee grew up in a community so secluded on private land, everyone is convinced that the woods that edge it mark the end of their world and Beyond belongs to their Lord. When he is chosen as Sacrifice and cast out of their community, Lee discovers that a world exists on the other side of the trees. A world that keeps going and going and seems either a dream and the fields of Eternity, or a cruel joke before his punishment would begin.
Faced with a whole new reality, Lee does his best to navigate his new life with the help of Vincent Martin, a social worker and mastermind over a generational plot to slowly chip away at the cult and eventually rescue the starving populace in the woods. With Vincent to lean on, Lee slowly learns to accept things about himself that he'd been forced to hide from, including accepting that he wants his savior to be more than a friend.
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