#mythpunk — Public Fediverse posts

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 135 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Rum #TimeTravelAuthors 9/19. Change

I didn’t go to sleep again. There didn’t seem to be any need. Instead, I thought about what I should do.

After Weena had a good cry, she crawled over to me and laid her head in my lap. I stroked her hair and spoke softly to her. I was sorry that my rejection had hurt her, but I was glad that it hadn’t damaged our relationship. She was my only ally here.

By the time light came through the windows, I had a plan. I needed to learn if there were other races in this world besides the Fairies and the Morlock. But where to look? Wells’s time-traveler hadn’t seen any, so they might be hard to find. Asking the Fae for help would be pointless, but with luck, Weena would know. The trick would be communicating with her, but I thought I’d figured that out.

Below, the fairies stirred and began eating noisily. They were a #rum lot.

When I descended with my partner, who seemed as gay as yesterday, the diners paid us no attention. There were no thanks for driving off the Morlocks, but I wasn’t expecting any. You might as well expect a butterfly to #change into an ant as the wee folk to reflect on the past or worry about the future.

After a breakfast of a slightly starchy melon with a pleasant, mild citrus flavor, along with a mix of nuts, round pears, and berries, I led Weena out into the “garden” to a secluded alcove under some nut trees. The screening rhodies would ensure the fairies didn’t disturb us.

I sat my companion down on a log.

Time to do my magic!

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 135 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Rum #TimeTravelAuthors 9/19. Change

I didn’t go to sleep again. There didn’t seem to be any need. Instead, I thought about what I should do.

After Weena had a good cry, she crawled over to me and laid her head in my lap. I stroked her hair and spoke softly to her. I was sorry that my rejection had hurt her, but I was glad that it hadn’t damaged our relationship. She was my only ally here.

By the time light came through the windows, I had a plan. I needed to learn if there were other races in this world besides the Fairies and the Morlock. But where to look? Wells’s time-traveler hadn’t seen any, so they might be hard to find. Asking the Fae for help would be pointless, but with luck, Weena would know. The trick would be communicating with her, but I thought I’d figured that out.

Below, the fairies stirred and began eating noisily. They were a #rum lot.

When I descended with my partner, who seemed as gay as yesterday, the diners paid us no attention. There were no thanks for driving off the Morlocks, but I wasn’t expecting any. You might as well expect a butterfly to #change into an ant as the wee folk to reflect on the past or worry about the future.

After a breakfast of a slightly starchy melon with a pleasant, mild citrus flavor, along with a mix of nuts, round pears, and berries, I led Weena out into the “garden” to a secluded alcove under some nut trees. The screening rhodies would ensure the fairies didn’t disturb us.

I sat my companion down on a log.

Time to do my magic!

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 135 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Rum #TimeTravelAuthors 9/19. Change

I didn’t go to sleep again. There didn’t seem to be any need. Instead, I thought about what I should do.

After Weena had a good cry, she crawled over to me and laid her head in my lap. I stroked her hair and spoke softly to her. I was sorry that my rejection had hurt her, but I was glad that it hadn’t damaged our relationship. She was my only ally here.

By the time light came through the windows, I had a plan. I needed to learn if there were other races in this world besides the Fairies and the Morlock. But where to look? Wells’s time-traveler hadn’t seen any, so they might be hard to find. Asking the Fae for help would be pointless, but with luck, Weena would know. The trick would be communicating with her, but I thought I’d figured that out.

Below, the fairies stirred and began eating noisily. They were a #rum lot.

When I descended with my partner, who seemed as gay as yesterday, the diners paid us no attention. There were no thanks for driving off the Morlocks, but I wasn’t expecting any. You might as well expect a butterfly to #change into an ant as the wee folk to reflect on the past or worry about the future.

After a breakfast of a slightly starchy melon with a pleasant, mild citrus flavor, along with a mix of nuts, round pears, and berries, I led Weena out into the “garden” to a secluded alcove under some nut trees. The screening rhodies would ensure the fairies didn’t disturb us.

I sat my companion down on a log.

Time to do my magic!

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

Elaina: The Ashen Match Girl

#Fanfic WanderingWitch #TheLittleMatchGirl
#Wss366 #Rummy

“Matches. Matches for sale.”

A girl with ashen hair blowing in the freezing winter wind stood on the corner. A semi-circle of trampled snow and random tracks left by passersby surrounded her. Her eyes and lips were matching shades of blue. Finally, in her trembling hands, was a tray.

Who was this waif, this forlorn seller of matches? Not I, certainly. Not Elaina the Ashen Witch. No, no, no, this was a poor, starving match girl.

“Buy my matches, dear sir? How about you, madam? I have a few magic matches today, only a gold piece each.” That was what this poor girl cried to the unfeeling people of the city. How was she supposed to afford bread and a room to sleep in if no one bought her matches?

“Hey you! You girl!” A man bellowed.

The match seller looked towards the voice. Drat, she thought. It was two burly thugs bundled in furs like northern barbarians and the scrawny woman she had chased off this corner. How was I to know her “daddy” would be a pair of toughs, not some old #rummy?.

“Matches! Matches for sale,” the girl called.

By then, the three intruders had reached the poor waif, and the biggest of them was shouting in her face, wafting it with a cloud of garlic sausage fumes. “Matches! We doe want no stinking matches! We want dis corner, and if yer smart n want to stay alive, yee givin it ta us.”

The girl behind them stuck her tongue out at the besieged woman.

“Sir, she gave me this spot willingly. I said to her, ‘Please, I’m starving. Would you lend me your place for an evening? I would be so grateful.’”

“Didn’t!” the original match seller snarled. “She threatened me!”

“I see. You’d like yer hed smushed in,” the second thug said, waving a cudgel.

“Oh, no, sir. Would you like to buy some magic matches? For your kindness, I will sell you one each for only two gold pieces total…”

The match girl lowered her voice. “...Or I could turn you into frogs for free.”

With that, she opened her coat slightly to reveal a silver witch’s star. That’s right, this match seller was a witch, too. The highest rank of magic users. Indeed, she was a clever woman who had fallen on hard times.

The two thugs stepped back.

“Well, smash her,” their companion said.

“Yee be daft? She be a witch!” the big man said, boxing the girl upside the head.

By now the witch had drawn her wand… Oh, heck, “I!” I had pulled out my wand. It’s true, the woman was none other than me, Elaina the Ashen Witch, flat purse and all, itching for a plate of those sausages I could smell every time the behemoth in front of me bellowed.

“Just two golds and I’ll throw in a box of regular matches for free,” I shouted after them.

#TootFic #FairyTale #FracturedFairyTale #Mythpunk #NMFic

Elaina: The Ashen Match Girl

#Fanfic WanderingWitch #TheLittleMatchGirl
#Wss366 #Rummy

“Matches. Matches for sale.”

A girl with ashen hair blowing in the freezing winter wind stood on the corner. A semi-circle of trampled snow and random tracks left by passersby surrounded her. Her eyes and lips were matching shades of blue. Finally, in her trembling hands, was a tray.

Who was this waif, this forlorn seller of matches? Not I, certainly. Not Elaina the Ashen Witch. No, no, no, this was a poor, starving match girl.

“Buy my matches, dear sir? How about you, madam? I have a few magic matches today, only a gold piece each.” That was what this poor girl cried to the unfeeling people of the city. How was she supposed to afford bread and a room to sleep in if no one bought her matches?

“Hey you! You girl!” A man bellowed.

The match seller looked towards the voice. Drat, she thought. It was two burly thugs bundled in furs like northern barbarians and the scrawny woman she had chased off this corner. How was I to know her “daddy” would be a pair of toughs, not some old #rummy?.

“Matches! Matches for sale,” the girl called.

By then, the three intruders had reached the poor waif, and the biggest of them was shouting in her face, wafting it with a cloud of garlic sausage fumes. “Matches! We doe want no stinking matches! We want dis corner, and if yer smart n want to stay alive, yee givin it ta us.”

The girl behind them stuck her tongue out at the besieged woman.

“Sir, she gave me this spot willingly. I said to her, ‘Please, I’m starving. Would you lend me your place for an evening? I would be so grateful.’”

“Didn’t!” the original match seller snarled. “She threatened me!”

“I see. You’d like yer hed smushed in,” the second thug said, waving a cudgel.

“Oh, no, sir. Would you like to buy some magic matches? For your kindness, I will sell you one each for only two gold pieces total…”

The match girl lowered her voice. “...Or I could turn you into frogs for free.”

With that, she opened her coat slightly to reveal a silver witch’s star. That’s right, this match seller was a witch, too. The highest rank of magic users. Indeed, she was a clever woman who had fallen on hard times.

The two thugs stepped back.

“Well, smash her,” their companion said.

“Yee be daft? She be a witch!” the big man said, boxing the girl upside the head.

By now the witch had drawn her wand… Oh, heck, “I!” I had pulled out my wand. It’s true, the woman was none other than me, Elaina the Ashen Witch, flat purse and all, itching for a plate of those sausages I could smell every time the behemoth in front of me bellowed.

“Just two golds and I’ll throw in a box of regular matches for free,” I shouted after them.

#TootFic #FairyTale #FracturedFairyTale #Mythpunk #NMFic

Elaina: The Ashen Match Girl

#Fanfic WanderingWitch #TheLittleMatchGirl
#Wss366 #Rummy

“Matches. Matches for sale.”

A girl with ashen hair blowing in the freezing winter wind stood on the corner. A semi-circle of trampled snow and random tracks left by passersby surrounded her. Her eyes and lips were matching shades of blue. Finally, in her trembling hands, was a tray.

Who was this waif, this forlorn seller of matches? Not I, certainly. Not Elaina the Ashen Witch. No, no, no, this was a poor, starving match girl.

“Buy my matches, dear sir? How about you, madam? I have a few magic matches today, only a gold piece each.” That was what this poor girl cried to the unfeeling people of the city. How was she supposed to afford bread and a room to sleep in if no one bought her matches?

“Hey you! You girl!” A man bellowed.

The match seller looked towards the voice. Drat, she thought. It was two burly thugs bundled in furs like northern barbarians and the scrawny woman she had chased off this corner. How was I to know her “daddy” would be a pair of toughs, not some old #rummy?.

“Matches! Matches for sale,” the girl called.

By then, the three intruders had reached the poor waif, and the biggest of them was shouting in her face, wafting it with a cloud of garlic sausage fumes. “Matches! We doe want no stinking matches! We want dis corner, and if yer smart n want to stay alive, yee givin it ta us.”

The girl behind them stuck her tongue out at the besieged woman.

“Sir, she gave me this spot willingly. I said to her, ‘Please, I’m starving. Would you lend me your place for an evening? I would be so grateful.’”

“Didn’t!” the original match seller snarled. “She threatened me!”

“I see. You’d like yer hed smushed in,” the second thug said, waving a cudgel.

“Oh, no, sir. Would you like to buy some magic matches? For your kindness, I will sell you one each for only two gold pieces total…”

The match girl lowered her voice. “...Or I could turn you into frogs for free.”

With that, she opened her coat slightly to reveal a silver witch’s star. That’s right, this match seller was a witch, too. The highest rank of magic users. Indeed, she was a clever woman who had fallen on hard times.

The two thugs stepped back.

“Well, smash her,” their companion said.

“Yee be daft? She be a witch!” the big man said, boxing the girl upside the head.

By now the witch had drawn her wand… Oh, heck, “I!” I had pulled out my wand. It’s true, the woman was none other than me, Elaina the Ashen Witch, flat purse and all, itching for a plate of those sausages I could smell every time the behemoth in front of me bellowed.

“Just two golds and I’ll throw in a box of regular matches for free,” I shouted after them.

#TootFic #FairyTale #FracturedFairyTale #Mythpunk #NMFic

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 134, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Rely #TimeTravelAuthors 9/17. Character's regret

After the Morlock attack, the fairies below me seethed aimlessly, weeping and wailing. But as with all their emotions, their agitation was transient, and they soon settled down to sleep as if nothing had happened. Not one of them checked if the individuals the Morlocks had almost abducted needed anything. This was not a society where you could #rely on your neighbors. I was quickly souring on this utopia.

Weena grew silent, too, and then wrapped her arms around me. “Weena, luv, Henny.”

The torchlight reflected off her face, making her eyes glitter. Her lip trembled. I didn’t know whether it was fear, release of tension, or some tender emotion. She reminded me less of a woman and more of a child or a dog. I doubted what she felt was really love, rather than something akin to a canine’s affection for its master.

I responded by stroking her head. Her hair was silky. Blue patterns of static electricity played across it as I ran my hand over it. “It’s okay,” I said. “Morlock gone.”

She released her grip on me, and with one hand took my arm, tugging on it. “Coom. Weena luv, Henny.” With her other hand, she attempted to open my robes.

I shook her off and said, “No.” I wished I could have said, “Cuddling only,” but I didn’t think she would understand that.

“Henny no luv Weena?”

“No luv. Henny like Weena.” I reached out to stroke her hair again, but she moved away and huddled in a corner. I could hear her crying, her sobs mingling with the name Hurburth.

I wondered if Hurburth had loved Weena the way she wanted to be. And if so, where did he go? However, I wasn’t him, and I didn’t love Weena like that. I regretted hurting her, but not turning down her offer. There was an ache, though. Her offer had brought up a deep sense of regret. I didn’t know what it was for, but I knew I had lost something dear to me.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 134, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Rely #TimeTravelAuthors 9/17. Character's regret

After the Morlock attack, the fairies below me seethed aimlessly, weeping and wailing. But as with all their emotions, their agitation was transient, and they soon settled down to sleep as if nothing had happened. Not one of them checked if the individuals the Morlocks had almost abducted needed anything. This was not a society where you could #rely on your neighbors. I was quickly souring on this utopia.

Weena grew silent, too, and then wrapped her arms around me. “Weena, luv, Henny.”

The torchlight reflected off her face, making her eyes glitter. Her lip trembled. I didn’t know whether it was fear, release of tension, or some tender emotion. She reminded me less of a woman and more of a child or a dog. I doubted what she felt was really love, rather than something akin to a canine’s affection for its master.

I responded by stroking her head. Her hair was silky. Blue patterns of static electricity played across it as I ran my hand over it. “It’s okay,” I said. “Morlock gone.”

She released her grip on me, and with one hand took my arm, tugging on it. “Coom. Weena luv, Henny.” With her other hand, she attempted to open my robes.

I shook her off and said, “No.” I wished I could have said, “Cuddling only,” but I didn’t think she would understand that.

“Henny no luv Weena?”

“No luv. Henny like Weena.” I reached out to stroke her hair again, but she moved away and huddled in a corner. I could hear her crying, her sobs mingling with the name Hurburth.

I wondered if Hurburth had loved Weena the way she wanted to be. And if so, where did he go? However, I wasn’t him, and I didn’t love Weena like that. I regretted hurting her, but not turning down her offer. There was an ache, though. Her offer had brought up a deep sense of regret. I didn’t know what it was for, but I knew I had lost something dear to me.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 134, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Rely #TimeTravelAuthors 9/17. Character's regret

After the Morlock attack, the fairies below me seethed aimlessly, weeping and wailing. But as with all their emotions, their agitation was transient, and they soon settled down to sleep as if nothing had happened. Not one of them checked if the individuals the Morlocks had almost abducted needed anything. This was not a society where you could #rely on your neighbors. I was quickly souring on this utopia.

Weena grew silent, too, and then wrapped her arms around me. “Weena, luv, Henny.”

The torchlight reflected off her face, making her eyes glitter. Her lip trembled. I didn’t know whether it was fear, release of tension, or some tender emotion. She reminded me less of a woman and more of a child or a dog. I doubted what she felt was really love, rather than something akin to a canine’s affection for its master.

I responded by stroking her head. Her hair was silky. Blue patterns of static electricity played across it as I ran my hand over it. “It’s okay,” I said. “Morlock gone.”

She released her grip on me, and with one hand took my arm, tugging on it. “Coom. Weena luv, Henny.” With her other hand, she attempted to open my robes.

I shook her off and said, “No.” I wished I could have said, “Cuddling only,” but I didn’t think she would understand that.

“Henny no luv Weena?”

“No luv. Henny like Weena.” I reached out to stroke her hair again, but she moved away and huddled in a corner. I could hear her crying, her sobs mingling with the name Hurburth.

I wondered if Hurburth had loved Weena the way she wanted to be. And if so, where did he go? However, I wasn’t him, and I didn’t love Weena like that. I regretted hurting her, but not turning down her offer. There was an ache, though. Her offer had brought up a deep sense of regret. I didn’t know what it was for, but I knew I had lost something dear to me.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 134, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Rely #TimeTravelAuthors 9/17. Character's regret

After the Morlock attack, the fairies below me seethed aimlessly, weeping and wailing. But as with all their emotions, their agitation was transient, and they soon settled down to sleep as if nothing had happened. Not one of them checked if the individuals the Morlocks had almost abducted needed anything. This was not a society where you could #rely on your neighbors. I was quickly souring on this utopia.

Weena grew silent, too, and then wrapped her arms around me. “Weena, luv, Henny.”

The torchlight reflected off her face, making her eyes glitter. Her lip trembled. I didn’t know whether it was fear, release of tension, or some tender emotion. She reminded me less of a woman and more of a child or a dog. I doubted what she felt was really love, rather than something akin to a canine’s affection for its master.

I responded by stroking her head. Her hair was silky. Blue patterns of static electricity played across it as I ran my hand over it. “It’s okay,” I said. “Morlock gone.”

She released her grip on me, and with one hand took my arm, tugging on it. “Coom. Weena luv, Henny.” With her other hand, she attempted to open my robes.

I shook her off and said, “No.” I wished I could have said, “Cuddling only,” but I didn’t think she would understand that.

“Henny no luv Weena?”

“No luv. Henny like Weena.” I reached out to stroke her hair again, but she moved away and huddled in a corner. I could hear her crying, her sobs mingling with the name Hurburth.

I wondered if Hurburth had loved Weena the way she wanted to be. And if so, where did he go? However, I wasn’t him, and I didn’t love Weena like that. I regretted hurting her, but not turning down her offer. There was an ache, though. Her offer had brought up a deep sense of regret. I didn’t know what it was for, but I knew I had lost something dear to me.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 134, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK

#Wss366 Rely #TimeTravelAuthors 9/17. Character's regret

After the Morlock attack, the fairies below me seethed aimlessly, weeping and wailing. But as with all their emotions, their agitation was transient, and they soon settled down to sleep as if nothing had happened. Not one of them checked if the individuals the Morlocks had almost abducted needed anything. This was not a society where you could #rely on your neighbors. I was quickly souring on this utopia.

Weena grew silent, too, and then wrapped her arms around me. “Weena, luv, Henny.”

The torchlight reflected off her face, making her eyes glitter. Her lip trembled. I didn’t know whether it was fear, release of tension, or some tender emotion. She reminded me less of a woman and more of a child or a dog. I doubted what she felt was really love, rather than something akin to a canine’s affection for its master.

I responded by stroking her head. Her hair was silky. Blue patterns of static electricity played across it as I ran my hand over it. “It’s okay,” I said. “Morlock gone.”

She released her grip on me, and with one hand took my arm, tugging on it. “Coom. Weena luv, Henny.” With her other hand, she attempted to open my robes.

I shook her off and said, “No.” I wished I could have said, “Cuddling only,” but I didn’t think she would understand that.

“Henny no luv Weena?”

“No luv. Henny like Weena.” I reached out to stroke her hair again, but she moved away and huddled in a corner. I could hear her crying, her sobs mingling with the name Hurburth.

I wondered if Hurburth had loved Weena the way she wanted to be. And if so, where did he go? However, I wasn’t him, and I didn’t love Weena like that. I regretted hurting her, but not turning down her offer. There was an ache, though. Her offer had brought up a deep sense of regret. I didn’t know what it was for, but I knew I had lost something dear to me.

#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn