Fan Mail (II), Part 3

Sam sprawled on her bed like she’d been drop-kicked by a good mood and left to sun-cure in the afternoon light. She’d spent the last half hour reading the best parts of a battered old Terry Pratchett paperback, trying to distract herself from the thought of the challenge, but the story was losing a cage match to the five letters fanned out on the comforter beside her. The sunlight through the windows made a halo around her tangled blue hair, and the silver tiara (Shar’s previous fan mail gift) rested at a perilous angle above one ear, threatening to slip every time she moved her head.

She had a system for these things. Number one: always open the ones with familiar handwriting first. Number two: brace for maximum weirdness, then dial it up another two notches, because this was Harem Hotel.

She fingered the first envelope—a thick, cream-colored slab with her name written in that loopy, post-cursive script. Shar, of course. Sam snorted, running her thumb under the flap, then held it upside down over her lap. A ring—wedding-style, plain platinum, but with a kind of low-key, storybook shimmer—slipped out and landed softly on the bedspread.

“Not subtle, Shar,” Sam said aloud, flipping the envelope over to check for hidden compartments. She scanned the accompanying letter, and as she did, her lips curled into a sideways grin that she could never quite control.

The letter went like this:

Greetings again! I am overjoyed you finally found Liesa. I was starting to worry my letters were too subtle. I hate to rush young love, but you really do need to work on your victory points. Still, you are doing great and as far as I'm concerned you are the main character. I am also really glad to see my hints to Claire paid off and she found your secret for you. She also found my season, you might want to ask her about it I think you'd enjoy it. Also you may get some mail from one of my contestants, Tracy, about your game. She's watched your season and I'm sure she'll want in on it. Up to you and Arabella of course but I approve on my end. Try to keep her away from the caffeine if you can. Also it was quite nice to see you enjoying your tiara, I hope you are keeping your pendant close to heart as well. I've enclosed yet another gift, this one comes in two parts. Put on this ring and if Liesa puts on hers as well you will both always know where each other are. May your victory be glorious Harem Queen. Shar.

Sam stretched out her legs. It took a full minute before she could process the wild tangle of in-jokes, backhanded pep talk, and the perfectly on-brand suggestion that she, Sam Collins, was somehow the main character. She could almost hear Shar’s voice narrating the words, an octave higher than her own, winking through every line.

“Subtle as a sledgehammer,” Sam muttered, but she felt a warm pulse of pride anyway. She picked up the band, rolled it between her fingers, and wondered if it’d actually work as advertised. It wasn’t the most practical magical effect, but then, Sam doubted Shar had ever valued practicality above the story of a thing.

The part about the secret made her pause. “Interpersonal Vector Adjustment,” she said, tasting the phrase in her mouth. That was the system Claire had helped her debug, the hack that let her earn Victory Points through contact with other Contestants instead of… the other kind. “My little loophole,” she added, and for once, the phrase didn’t sting. Maybe it was okay to want to win this on her own terms.

She reread the bit about Tracy, and tried to picture what kind of contestant would come through Shar’s season. Knowing Shar, it would be someone with a soul made of Red Bull and dubious life choices. She decided to check in with Arabella about the logistics, but she was already 80% sure she’d let Tracy play if she wanted. The more the merrier, even if the game might get a little weirder as a result.

Sam plucked the ring off the bed, slid it onto her finger, and gave it a hard stare. “Let’s see where you point me,” she challenged, then looked out the window, half-expecting to feel a tug toward Liesa’s current location. Maybe it needed both in play. Still, the idea of having an invisible link to Liesa made her feel… less alone. Which was not a feeling Sam had ever learned to process well.

She left it on. The sunlight caught the silver, and Sam imagined the future as Shar must see it: wedding rings, an adventuring party, a queen’s crown, and a destiny powered mostly by good intentions and bad puns.

She flopped backward onto the bed and let the rest of the world fall away for a second, content to just be exactly where she was.

In the end, Shar’s letter wasn’t subtle, but it was honest, and that was the only kind of magic Sam had ever needed.

The next envelope was thinner. Sam slit it open with her thumbnail, bracing for an explosion of confetti, but instead, a single, densely typed page flopped into her lap. The font was big and blocky, the lines crammed tight together like they’d been written in a fit of caffeinated inspiration.

She didn’t even need to check the signature—this was pure Tracy energy, start to finish.

Hallo! I just finished binging your season and Shar was so right, you are awesome! Also Liesa is super cute, you two are great together. I see you are starting a Pathfinder game and that is so awesome too! I want in! Your host and my host will have to rig something up to sync the times but mine has totally done that before no sweat. I'm in a game another contestant is running on Aurora's season and that's been a blast. Aurora is even playing with us if you can believe it! Also if you could put in the word with Andy to let me check out his code stuff while I'm there I would be super in your debt. I bet I can rig some way to cheese those codes here. I probably won't get in trouble for that. Almost certainly. Let me in! Tracy.

Sam stared at the letter, her eyebrows climbing like they wanted to migrate off her face. She’d met people like Tracy before—somewhere in the intersection of fandom and ADHD, where boundaries were theoretical and “rules” were mostly there for decoration. She read the letter a second time, this round with a mental filter set to “enthusiasm” instead of “volume,” and realized it was… actually kind of sweet.

The idea of running a Pathfinder game for a bunch of contestants from alternate Harem Hotel universes was so bizarre, so perfectly on-brand, that Sam couldn’t even bring herself to scoff. She pictured herself at the head of a table, clutching her battered DM screen, with a party composed of Shar, Tracy, and—what, maybe this Aurora herself?—and tried to imagine how long it would take for the whole campaign to derail into chaos.

Not long, she decided, and grinned. But the thought didn’t bother her at all.

She let her eyes flick back to the bit about “Andy's code stuff,” and snorted. Tracy clearly had no idea what she was in for.

She folded the letter, holding it between two fingers, and gave it a little salute. “As soon as I get Arabella to fiddle with time, you’re in,” she told the envelope, and meant it. The next game was going to be something wild.

“Main character,” Sam repeated, shaking her head at the thought. More like party leader for a crew of power nerds from beyond the universe. But she could live with that.

The third envelope was a glitter bomb waiting to happen—Sam could tell just by the way it rattled, light as a dream but dense with mystery. She peeled it open slowly, braced for a chemical weapon-grade dose of glitter, but what slipped out was even weirder: a smaller envelope, and a sheet of stiff paper that, the moment it hit the bed, flickered to life like a living Instagram story.

It was a video, playing right there on the paper, complete with sound.

On the “screen,” an olive-skinned woman with streaks of blue and indigo in her hair grinned out at the viewer. Her teeth were all-too-sharp, every one a perfect shark triangle. She wore a T-shirt so oversized it might’ve belonged to a sumo wrestler, the front emblazoned with “Check out these d20’s!” in distressed pink bubble letters.

Next to her sat a blonde bunny-girl—actual bunny ears, actual skirt and blouse combo—smiling like she was trying out for a toothpaste commercial.

The bunny-girl started it off, staring straight into the camera with the confidence of someone who’d had practice. “See, Daph? This is way better than writing! Oh, hi, Sam, my number one subscriber on that set! Of course you know and adore me as Tina, Titan of Trickery on Insta-Thot, and I believe Daphne here…”

The shark-toothed woman interrupted with a wave and a full-jawed grin. “Hi, Sam! Hashtag Samsa for Liefe!”

Tina glared with practiced exasperation, then kept rolling. “…has already written to you. Anyways, your fav Insta-Thotist is also a contestant on another season! Shock! I got to tell you though, that once you get past the inter-dimensional ****, the mean moth ball lady, and the seemingly neverending bucket of mediocre corn dogs, this has been the best thing that’s happened to me. I’m sure that, once you start banging that Liesa girl or that Erin girl or that Emi girl, you’ll see that the show can be good for you, too. Or maybe you just sneak behind your Andy guy, blindfold him, silently tickle him until he goes all cute-girl mode for you, then eat her out? That sounds like a fun way to break the ice, you know, for him to have sexy girl times with you.”

The bunny-girl paused for a breath, then continued, “Again, our Mistress is being stingy with the gifts this time for some reason, but I got the perfect magic-free solution! I’ll film a post vid of whatever you want, within reason! Tell me what feat of magic, mystery, or making out you’d like to see Tina, Titan of Trickery do and I’ll try my best to make it happen! And, hey, to your season’s audience, be sure to subscribe to Tina, Titan of Trickery on Insta-Thot for some Hot Tina Action!”

She pivoted to the mermaid with a practiced ringmaster’s gesture: “Anything to add, Daph?”

Daphne blinked, showing off a sclera that was almost white as the paper itself. “I tried your weird edible pebble ****. They are very gritty. Harper hasn’t had a chance to make it right for me, but I’ll let you know what I think when she does. And I used to DM Dungeons of Delving for my dolls when I was a fingerling! I never played Pathfinder, but I’m sure I could learn? If you’ll let me play, I’ll be a good mermaid, with minimal biting. I mean, how often do you get to play with a real-life Level 12 mermaid transmuter wizard? I’m attaching my character sheet so you can adjust it to your system, just in case. I can bring some squid and/or fish testicles for snacks? Let me know?”

Tina the bunny-girl made a face, ears flattening in horror, but quickly recovered. “Ok, and that’s Daphne, everyone! Isn’t she cute! This is Tina, signing off. Have a magical day!”

The video paused on Tina blowing a kiss and Daphne flashing a mouthful of serrated teeth.

Sam stared at the paper, her brain doing a cold-boot reboot to process what the hell had just happened. She rewatched the video twice, because once was not nearly enough to catch the layers of deranged meta-humor, sexual energy, and genuine “hey, want to be friends?” earnestness on display.

Now she recognized the bunny-girl, although the video was, if possible, even more chaotic than her Insta-Thot vids. Sam cast a guilty glance at 'The Joys of Watching Paper Dry,' sitting on her nightstand. She'd thought Andy had lost it, when he gave her the book. Turned out, there was some... interesting stuff... in there. Research. Lots and lots of research. Tina was the hot topic—in every sense of the word.

She shook her head, lips twitching into an actual, unguarded smile. “Hot Tina Action,” she whispered, just to hear how it sounded, and then burst out laughing. The idea of a custom video from a cross-dimensional Instagram bunny goddess was… actually tempting. She made a mental note to request something really weird, like Tina solving a math proof topless, or maybe Daphne eating a whole pineapple in one go.

The smaller envelope that came with the video sat neglected on the comforter, waiting for her to recover enough brain cells to open it.

Sam picked up the “screen,” which now looped the final frame like a digital trading card. “If the rest of the mail is this weird, I might need to take a lap,” she said, mostly to herself. But there was no irritation in her tone, just honest amusement. She was starting to understand why people kept writing to her.

She set the card against the pillow, the bunny-girl and mermaid frozen in eternal, cheerful weirdness, and went for the next envelope.

The smaller envelope was unlabeled. Sam popped it open and found a letter written on sparkly stationery, the header reading “Glitterdust, President for Life.”

Sam braced herself and started reading.

Sam, Hello! As the Founder, President, and CEO of the Harem Hotel MtF Fetish Fan Club, I wish to extend to you the offer of joining our illustrious organization! With your help and support, we can be rid of all of those gross boy “Masters”, one changed body at a time! Last time, I thought that convincing the gross boy to renounce his gross boyness with logic and promotional materials would be sufficient, but, given how that failed and the experience MY MtF goddess had to go though, the gross boys may need a little more **** to embrace their true sexy womanhood.

If you wish to join our righteous cause, please use the attached Spell Scroll of Geas on Andy. To use it, break the seal within 60 feet of him/her, focusing on him/her for a minute, and then loudly proclaim the command “Always be a girl!” Assuming his/her weak gross boy mind doesn’t resist the spell, the first time she breaks the command every day for the following 30 days, he’ll take 5d10 psychic damage! Which will definitely kill him! You might want to mention that before she tries to break the command! I’m sure your host will bring him back to life, at least until she learns her lesson!

Hashtag All Andi All The Time!
Glitterdust

Sam read the letter three times, eyes narrowing with every pass. There was a lot to unpack—somewhere between offensive, hilarious, and genuinely dangerous.

“Nope,” she said flatly. “Absolutely not.”

The idea of spell-whammying Andy into girl mode permanently—never mind the bit about “definitely kill him”—crossed every line she’d ever drawn. She had her own feelings about Andi (positive, if she was being honest), but it was Andy’s call to flip or not. Sam was not about to let some deranged superfan turn her best friend into a casualty for the sake of a kink.

Sam made a mental note to mention the letter to Andy as soon as possible. She didn’t want him blindsided by a magical booby trap, even if it was wrapped in sparkly unicorn stickers.

“People are nuts,” Sam muttered. She moved the envelope to the discard pile, made a rude gesture at the unicorn sticker, and reached for the final letter.

The last envelope was heavier than the rest—Sam half-expected it to contain a gun, or maybe a chunk of uncut crystal, but what rolled into her palm was a small statue. It was about the size of a deck of cards, dense and beautifully made: a lion-headed woman in flowing robes, holding a stylized globe in her hands. The craftsmanship was uncanny, the detail so sharp you could almost feel the fur and the cool weight of the orb.

She smiled despite herself. “If this is a metaphor for being a queen, it’s a good one,” she said, and set the statue upright on the nightstand, facing her like a tiny, judgmental mascot.

The letter inside was written in a smooth, classic hand. She read it aloud, because it felt right:

Miss Collins,

Your ready wit and humor serve to brighten and warm the world around you. My fond hope is that you continue to allow your inner light to shine on your friends and sisters, the beacon around whom Master Cooper’s harem might gather even in dark times. I will add a congratulations for your budding relationship with Miss Claes. The world can only benefit from more such love, and I encourage you to fan such flames wherever those sparks might land. The advice I have to offer you is thus: while the harem of the season might be Master Cooper’s, there is no reason why the only joy to be had is to be his. Be willing to seek out your own delight—in whatever form you might find—without reservation or shame. Andrew certainly will not begrudge you a single iota of joy or pleasure, nor will your sisters.

At the same moment, though, I entreat you to be willing to be seen as human. A friend to Andrew you might be—and a good one—but if you are to become the central figure of the family that you surely must, it can only be when those around you are allowed to see you as you are. Humor is a wonderful thing, but you need not always retreat to it to find refuge. There are no daggers held in the hands of your family. It is with palms open they will greet a bared heart.

I offer to you a small boon and my affection.

J.

Sam turned the statue in her hands, running a thumb over the lioness’s face. There was something grounding about it, like holding a token from a religion you didn’t quite believe in, but still respected. She set the letter down, stared at the statue, and let the words settle for a minute.

She had always been the funny one, the fixer, the person who could take a bad day and wrangle it into something resembling a story. That was how she’d survived her family, her old life, and, honestly, her whole time at the Harem Hotel. But the thought of being seen—really seen—was… scary. Scarier than a magical fan club trying to ****-femme her best friend, even.

Sam laughed, a little choked, and shook her head. “Okay, J,” she said. “I’ll try. No promises, but I’ll try.”

She put the lioness in a spot of honor on the windowsill, where the sunlight caught the lines of its mane and turned them gold. She looked at it for a long time, then at the letters piled up on her nightstand.

Sam was never going to be the main character, not really. But she liked the idea of being the heart of something, even if it meant opening up, even if it hurt.

She ran her finger along the lioness’s jaw, then tapped the statue once, as if making a pact.

“Let’s see what happens next,” she said. And this time, she meant it.

That was when someone knocked on the door, and Sam barely had time to answer before a Mildred waltzed in, too-wide smile in place, asking her where she'd like her full-size ahegao statue. Behind her, Andy walked in with a grin that screamed mischief, and Sam could only laugh when she learned what Mildred was referring to.

Emi sat on the sand with her back to the wind, feet burrowed under a tangle of grass at the top of the dune. The waves, busy as bees, threaded up and down the beach, and she tried to keep her sketchbook from snapping shut in the breeze. It didn’t work. The page flapped, then folded, then tried to eat itself. She gave up and let it close.

She had two envelopes in her lap. The first was from Skye—she’d spotted the return address and handwriting instantly. The other had no sender, but it was heavier than it looked and made a faint, musical rattle if she shook it.

She opened Skye’s letter first.

A little book tumbled out—a thin volume, prayerbook-sized, bound in blue leather and embossed with silver runes. On the left side of each page was a looping, unreadable script; on the right, what she assumed was the same text in English. Emi ran her hand over the cover, then set it in her lap, careful not to get sand in the spine.

She read the letter next, and as she did, her face went from curious to pink-cheeked, then almost crimson.

Emi,

Hi again! It is nice to talk with you once more. Are we friends yet? I hope we are friends. Thank you for the picture. When I get some time to hit the forge, I will cast a picture frame for it and then hang it up.

I am happy to report that yesterday’s date went great! We saved a bunch of people, The Lady of the Dance threw a feast for us in Svartalfheim, and my mother didn’t kill my wife! Oh, and the ropeplay went so well last night. I tied up Ms. Mattie, who is not my favorite harem-sister but happily volunteered, and then my wife tied me up so good. The experience was so magical! It was like the first time where I got out of my own head and could just be while making love to my wife! Amazing! Okay, bragging time over.

Did you make love to your unsupervised male, sorry, man yet? Was he good in bed? Has he confessed his eternal love for you in front of The Lady yet? I did pretty good being my own wedding planner on the show. Say the word and I shall help you with yours! To help prepare both of you, I have attached a prayerbook to The Lady for you to read and believe. The text on the left page is Elvish and on the right is English. I bet, if you apply yourself, I could write my next letter in Elvish! It could be our secret friend code.

May The Lady of the Dance watch over and bless you,

Skye O’Connor

Emi pressed the letter to her chest, then set it on the sand, her face burning. The frankness about sex was intense, but… she liked it. She tried to imagine ever being so open with another person, or even writing it down, and her stomach fluttered. She did make love to Andy. It was wonderful. It made her want to draw hearts everywhere. It also made her want to die of embarrassment if anyone else read about it.

She tried to focus on the prayerbook. The first page had a short invocation—Lady, grant me the grace to move, to dance, to weave beauty from nothing. She traced the Elvish with her finger, then read the English. The words felt soft and foreign on her tongue, but she liked the idea of a secret code. It made her feel chosen.

She wondered, for a moment, if the Lady of the Dance was real. After all, there were enough weird gods and spirits in the world to fill a hundred books. She made a note to ask Arabella if she knew anything about the Lady. Arabella probably had a story.

Emi picked up the letter again and read the part about the wedding. She almost fainted, then giggled into her hands. There was no wedding in the cards for her and Andy, not really, but… it was nice to pretend. She hugged the prayerbook to her chest and imagined Skye in a real forge, making a picture frame out of something wild and magical, just for Emi’s silly little drawing.

She made a silent promise to write Skye back. Maybe even in Elvish, if she could manage it.

The second envelope was similar to the first, although the writing was decidedly different. Emi opened it, just barely catching the box that improbably fell out of it, and which clinked as if it contained fragile glass. Emi held it with two hands on her lap, while she opened the letter and read it.

Emi,

Hi! Your friendly neighborhood dungeon mermaid, Daphne, at your service. Your (and hopefully my) friend Sam asked me to write to you in her thank you letter and I love writing letters! It’s so nice to try to help someone out, you know? Brighten someone’s day by letting them you you are thinking about them? Even if they don’t write back.

Anyways, I heard you all may be playing some Dungeons of Delving soon! It’s so much fun! Or, at least, I think it is. I really only got to DM for my doll collection as a fingerling. And one session with Tina and Scarlet while I was still on staff over here. That did not go well, but it did land me in the harem with my Beloved, so it all worked out in the end!

One good thing about having an alchemist around is that you can get some fun things made and my present to you will hopefully be a fun time! I got a batch of 1 dozen potions that will turn you into real-life mermaids for an hour! I even enhanced them with a variety of fun flavors to make them taste good (sea urchin roe, dolphin blood, shark liver, and, of course, squid ink)! That sounds like a fun post-challenge party event if I ever heard of one. I’ll even chip in to buy you a saltwater pool so you have a place to use them, assuming the BP conversion rate makes that possible (our season doesn’t believe in the extra zeros, so we are definitely on different game economy systems).

For your Master, I would highly recommend that he go into Andi mode when being around real life mermaids. It will be safer for all involved that way. Hate to see someone eliminated for doing what mermaids do.
Tina is calling on me to help with her video to Sam, so I better wrap this up.

Keep on giving those hugs (I love hugs!),

Daphne

Emi stared at the letter, frowing. "What's Dungeons of Delving?" She wondered aloud. Still, Daphne sounded like a very sweet girl. She reminded Emi of Dawn, for some reason. Well... Dawn hopped out on coffee, maybe? She made a face at the mention of the flavors Daphne had selected for the potions (which Emi had to assume were in the box). She wasn't sure which one sounded like the least nauseating. "Maybe sea urchin roe? I've eaten sea urchin..." She murmured, suddenly giggling at the idea of watching Marissa drink a squid ink-flavored potion. "Oh, thank you," she murmured to the letter, "but our pool can switch to saltwater, I think. But that's a very nice offer, Daphne, you're very sweet!"

She blinked at the last couple of paragraphs. What did mermaids do that was dangerous to Andy? Then she remembered when her Dad had read the Odyssey to her, and nodded sagely. "Ohh, does that mean the potions will make us sing beautifully?" She wondered. Carefully, she set them aside, already thinking on how to reply to Daphne. Arabella's gifted memories told Emi that Daphne was in Skye's season, in the same harem. She smiled. Surely the Mistress of that season must be a happy person, having those two women encouraging her.

The third envelope was harder to open, but she managed it with a gentle tug. A ring fell out—delicate, rose gold, set with seven tiny gemstones, each the color of a different eye. The gems gleamed in the sun, sparkling even in the shade.

Emi stared. It was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen.

Miss Kim,

While there are those who saw the arms your transformation granted as a burden, from the first moment I could tell that you were as suited to them as they are to you. In truth I have at times wondered if man would not have been better served with more than the mere two upper arms with which he was built, but the repercussions of adjusting that are best left to idle dreams.

On the topic of dreams, I offer this advice: the world is oft unkind to dreamers, but you find yourself in a company in need of vision. While your sisters and Master Cooper—and you yourself—have steps yet to take in your journeys, it is vital that you remember that there will come a time after. While the days you spend at The HH may be the most important of your life, they number few in comparison to the march of seasons to follow. I hope that you can find the strength to follow your dreams, to weave them and wrap the others in their silken warm embrace and lead your family to a destination of your choosing rather than merely leaving it to fate and chance.

To that end, I offer you this boon and my fond affection.

J.

There was a postscript, in neat, tiny script:

The ring, when worn, will help you fall asleep and dream more easily. Once only, you may bring any number of individuals with whom you share a bed into a waking dream of your choice.

Emi turned the ring in her hands, watching the eyes catch the light. She wondered what sort of dream she’d choose. Would she make a beautiful world for everyone? Or just a quiet place for her and Andy to be together, with no pressure, no games, nothing but peace?

She thought about all the ways she could help her family. Liesa always seemed a little haunted, maybe she could make her a dream where nothing had ever gone wrong. Sam would probably want a dream where everyone sat around and played games and laughed forever. Andy… Andy deserved a dream where nobody ever left, not ever, not even once.

She smiled, slipped the ring onto her finger, and closed her eyes. The wind was soft. The waves kept doing their thing, never getting bored. For a moment, Emi let herself imagine what it would be like to have that dream for real.

Maybe someday, she thought. For now, she would start with a letter.

She took the prayerbook, traced the Elvish on the cover, and started writing a reply to Skye. She wasn’t sure what she’d say, but she knew it would be honest, and it would be hers.