#; The way you can see me scrounge up what I can before the game's actually released. I laugh at myself

[louis-guiabern]

Louis Guiabern various official renders and assets

[loquaciousquark]

okay but pls to tell me about the horror of hunger

BOY WOULD I LOVE TO okay so, first, it is imperative to understand that it's Tavish's canon that Astarion kills her the first time he feeds. This is because in playing the scene the first time ever, I was in MP with @mystery-moose & @eponymous-rose, and it so happened that the scene triggered on Tav & it so happened that she rolled TWO NATURAL ONES on both those checks & outright died, and it was so hilarious and unexpected that it simply had to become an integral part of her story.

Except of course as I got to know the character over several playthroughs, I was presented with a couple of questions! Why in the world would Tavish (selfish, self-centered, uniquely concerned with her own survival early in the game) firstly allow Astarion to feed on her at all, and secondly, fail so fatally to stop him before he killed her? How can I reconcile the dice with the narrative?

What I realized on the second run, though, was that Tav was a street kid from the age of 14. She had to fend for herself completely, unable to even scrounge up protection from the Thieves' Guild, and I think there were a lot (a lot) of nights where she went to bed hungry, especially the first few years. I think she developed a bone-deep fear of that hunger, and I think recognizing that same hunger in Astarion's eyes on bite night is what pushes her over the edge to allow the feed, even though it's not something she would have ever agreed to in a million years otherwise.

She likes Astarion by now, even if she doesn't like like him, and along with her realization that she doesn't mind helping others altruistically (some of the early tief stuff) comes the same realization about her companions. (It helps that Tav has additional hangups about her worth as a person being tied to her utility, especially surrounded by people she sees as much more competent than herself; if she can make Astarion dependent on her in this way, she can cement her place in the gang and they won't leave her behind. This is why she fails to stop him when she should, and then can't stop him when she must.) (This entire relationship is initially founded on bilateral manipulation and I love it.)

Anyway, the fic will start with an exploration of those events, then hopefully will move into other expressions of hunger & its dangers for both Tav & Astarion. She sees his ostensible hunger for power & recognizes his true hunger for safety & freedom, both from Cazador & the sun; he sees her hunger for gold and understands she's actually after the security of a warm place to sleep with food in her belly & someone who'll notice if she dies.

I have strong ideas for the first half of this fic & more nebulous vibes for the second half, but I think it'd be a really fun investigation of the way their characters mirror each other, & I like the idea of examining what they think "help" looks like, ahaha.

Thank you for asking! <3<3<3

[moomingitz]

Been thinking about this recently, when it comes to how people have view games in the Sonic franchise and their expectations of them even all the way back in the 2000s. I honestly believe the price the games originally retailed for has a lot to do with it. I'm saying this as someone who came in late to play the most prominent "dark age" Sonic games, and the games that came after them. And I'm only referring to the console games here, not the handheld ones.

The first time I played Sonic 06 was back in 2013. I bought it brand new and still sealed for $10, and I did it because I wanted to get an actual informed opinion of the game, and as a strange curiosity in general. The game is definitely unfinished and very buggy. However, I did get some enjoyment from it(even if not for the intended reasons), I actually liked the cutscenes for most of the part, and I do see some redeeming qualities underneath it's scuffed to hell surface. But, again, I only paid $10 for it, so not really a loss for me. But when it originally came out, it was not only $60, it was also this big grand anniversary game, meant to be a drastic new direction and refresh of the franchise, and it was released on then-next gen consoles. So I think you can start to see a more full picture of what I'm trying to get at, here.

Same thing also applies to the games that I think are good, or at least better. Sonic 06 wasn't the only Sonic game I played for the first time around that time. Before 06, I bought and played Colors in late 2012 for around $15. While I still believe that it's a good game, it's very short and doesn't have much else to do after you beat the main story. I don't think it has enough content to justify the price it originally retailed for.

The lack of a significant amount of content offered outside of the base games is honestly why I miss games like Sonic Adventure 1 and 2. Whether these games have actually aged well or not, there was so much you could do on the side. I would play these games religiously growing up, wanting to find and unlock everything I could do. I even %100 completed SA2 at one point. Sonic Adventure gives you hub worlds to explore and mess around in, and the Gamecube port even gives you the Gamegear games to unlock. In SA2 you could unlock costumes/skins for characters in 2 Player VS. mode and unlock other characters to play in it, among other things you could also unlock by completing missions and getting emblems. SA2 even had a timed boss rush. And, of course, both games had the Chao gardens.

It might be something of a meme to demand the Chao Gardens make a return. But fans, me included, want them back for a very good reason. Not only is it fun and relaxing to raise Chao and customize them to your liking, but the Chao gardens incentivize you to replay stages in order to find things like certain small animals to use for your Chao, or to scrounge up rings to buy things at the market.

As someone who played both Sonic Adventure games, when both their Dreamcast and following Gamecube ports originally came out, I really do feel like both the base games, and the amount of content provided outside of them, made them worth the price tag they had during their initial releases. The only games that have been able to scratch that kind of itch for me afterward is Unleashed and Generations. And before anyone asks; I can't comment on Frontiers gameplay wise because I still haven't played it yet.

[yeehawpim]

My long-winded love letter to D20

When I was in grade three, I didn’t think much about stories. I was a voracious reader— it was quiet and engrossing, all that could be asked of a kid at home. I walked the shelves of the city library in summer with eyes flitting from spine to spine, too excited about the possibilities now that it was summer reading club time, and my mom had to bring me there. I even wrote an endless stream of unfinished stories for class, the half-nonsensical kid stories that didn’t have endings.

But I never really thought of them as real. Not that the stories I read were real in the literal sense, but when I would later learn that people thought of themselves as going to Hogwarts, it was a concept completely foreign to me. Stories existed in a space apart from my little existence, where everything seemed to happen to other people. I wasn’t sad about it until I was older, when I couldn’t connect that my loneliness had to do with my tendency not to participate. How do you interact with friends when you’d rather watch them play video games than join in? How do you talk to people about the things you enjoy and what you feel when you don’t know that’s a thing you can do?

I have a mom who loves me, but would say “be careful” before she said “be kind,” and my parents almost never joked or played with my brother and I. We weren’t taught to look out for each other, just to get along and focus on school. How do you be around people who make you happy? How do you be kind for kindness’ sake, and not because you’re afraid any stranger will hurt you if you’re not polite?

I think the answers were always there, even if I didn’t see them. I read so much as a kid, Percy Jackson and Harry Potter and Bone, and even before that Geronimo Stilton and Captain Underpants and World of Wishes. They probably did teach me things, even though at the time all I was thinking about was fighting boredom.

But I don’t think all that really important stuff didn’t hit me until the past year or so, when I finally felt myself climbing out of the terrible time I was having after secondary education. Without getting into it, I was collapsing under a lot of stuff I didn’t understand as things I hadn’t processed started catching up. I finally scrounged up the energy to get actual counseling. I started to make friends I felt like I could go to if I was in trouble. 

One of my friends introduced me to D20, which I’d only been aware of through a single episode being played in our university dorm common room two years ago. It was the first episode of Fantasy High, and I thought it was good then but I didn’t go seek it out after. High school stories haven’t ever really clicked with me, I think because my own high school experiences were so different. (Don’t kill me, it’s totally a series I’ll get to someday. Someday. First I need to watch Pirates of Leviathan. And Coffin Run.) I found Bloodkeep on Youtube for free though, and after hearing there was a behind-the-scenes on Dropout immediately paid for it after finishing the series.

Then I heard Crown of Candy was like Game of ThronesXCandyland, and I had to see that. And then I saw a clip of Mice and Murder on Youtube with Rehka’s incredible nat 20 (you know the one, the one that fucked all of Brennan’s plans), and went to see that too. And so on and so forth.

For a long time, I enjoyed it pretty much the same way I enjoyed all media. It helped me when I was sad and didn’t have the energy to do anything, it was there to fill up the empty spots of boredom. Sure, I watched The Seven even though I wasn’t big on high school stories and immediately cried in the first episode. Nothing had even really happened yet. The PCs were just such good friends with each other, in a way I realized was what I desperately wanted to be at that age. Sure, when Ravening War came out I watched every upload and wrote fanfic, the most I’d ever managed to write anything since I was 12. Never mind I’d felt unable to create anything except for brief stints and mandatory school projects since high school, never mind that I was actually waking up excited to make something. 

I watched Dungeons and Drag Queens and was on edge for the first few episodes off my own fear of being watched while learning new things. By the end I was getting through whole episodes in one sitting because I needed to know what was going to happen. I cried like hell at the finale. The me that gets critical about plot holes shut the fuck up and it only mattered that the characters and the players were doing their best to be kind.

I know it’s a funny haha improvised show. I know obviously it’s a performance on screen, but I think somehow without me noticing it, D20 has given me stories that feel Real. Maybe because all the intrepid heroes and Brennan really are friends having fun even as they’re working. I think I saw them and all these stories and realized at some point that that’s actually possible. It feels obvious, of course it’s possible to laugh and joke with a group of friends and share something you all care deeply about. Of course, that’s a way to be happy with the people you love. Of course choosing kindness is the most radical thing you can do, of course it’s not stupid to care about things and try your hardest.

It all feels like stuff I should’ve fully absorbed as possible way sooner than now, already at 23. But I’m learning to be better to myself, and I’m glad that I got here and I’m still alive to think and write about it. I’m glad even though I don’t entirely know yet why I’m feeling better, I am able to feel like the things I make matter, that the things I do can make a difference even if it’s just to the one or two people that like my fanfic.

Maybe it wasn’t fully because of the silly little actual play show that I turned to for a smile when I was down, that’s probably too much to put on any piece of media. But D20 was definitely there through it with me, and it was there when I woke up at 5am today, unable to go back to sleep, wondering am I a person who believes in things now?

So I want to thank everyone who produces it, everyone on the art team, the intrepid heroes and Brennan, any guest star who was ever on it (incredibly special scream to Aabria and her Wuvvy and Karna, my beloveds. ALSO ERIKA AND DANIELLE.), literally from the deepest sincerest part of my heart. From someone who thought they wouldn’t make it alive at some point in the foggy future, thank you for making something that was there when I was in some of the worst times of my life and there for when I started to climb out.

I’m participating in the D20 zine jam now collabing with the friend who introduced me to D20, and I hope we can help raise money for WWRAP (Women’s Reproductive Rights Assistance Project)! Please go check out all the fan work that's coming out in August!!!

[vanderwoodlings]

⭐️ :)

i’ve been the shadows of myself (how was i to know?) was one of those fics that just like. It snuck up on me. We were having this conversation in class about the way things are normalized in media (why? because Ovid was a fucking weirdo) and I started thinking about the flip side of that, and how finding out your norm is Not Normal goes and, well…

It's very Nate, you know? The being in the not normal and accessing the normal slowly and confusedly. And we can always use more Nate x Humphreys and Anne and Howard slander

Of course, there’s a direct nod to this whole idea very early on, with Nate declaring that “it’s that he didn’t think people actually [took care of their kids when sick]. He thought it was a tv thing.” Because you adjust to your reality.

And the whole first section is set up to get the soft reveal there, as you have Nate watching this very relaxed interaction like it’s a nature documentary, and then you get to the why and it dives in from there.

It’s around here that I threw in the “It only gets stranger when he comes home back from school” line, which was a slip of the hand that I decided to use for Maximum Angst—Nate has a certain tentativeness to all his relationships, a fear of, well, being abandoned to live homeless by himself in his own house. As one does

I also like the description of Nate and Dan as “nearly mirror images” around here. That struck a good chord

The second section plays a game of tenses and love and care and the Archibald parents, and this way that Nate knows he’s been hurt but doesn’t exactly want to accept it. And then, well, sometimes you just gotta go for the throat:

Even that boy’s mother didn’t pull out his favorite movies when he had a fever; even that boy’s father never made sure he wouldn’t have to get up and scrounge for his own breakfast before going to work. There’s a difference between the kind of parents who let you crawl into their bed when you’ve had a nightmare and the kind who ask you to propose to your girlfriend so a business deal will go through.

So there’s this second half, this Nate-and-Jenny interaction, where I refuse to sugarcoat Rufus. It’s a feeling out, a negotiation of what’s safe and what’s not, and there’s a level of intimacy to it that Dan and Nate don’t really have at this point—and, also, this kind of weighty emotional stuff is much more Jenny and Nate.

And so Nate is saying but not saying that his parents didn’t care about this part of him, which is almost safe, while Jenny hears that his parents weren’t supposed to see this part of him, and this is all very ambiguous. Because Jenny knows her boundaries and Nate knows his but they don’t know each other’s

But it’s very disturbing to Nate, the idea that they weren’t supposed to know, because he reads that as saying parts of him were wrong. Which brings us back to the question of acceptance

Nate sees himself as an actor through passivity, because the idea that this is his fault makes it seem more rational. He was hurt because of something he did, not just because. Except, of course, for the part where he didn’t

[darkmoonkestrel]

daily kestrel 19:

I have a fiancee now!! I did the proposal at six flags today and it went off pretty well, I was hella nervous so I didn't say much just a "will you marry me?" but I got a yes and I didn't fumble the ring putting on so that's good

we slept in and I took my shower this morning while Paige made a breakfast of sausage and bacon and pancakes and I played barista and made coffees for all of us. we got a text this morning requesting a showing at 11:30 tomorrow and they just barely got it in with 24 hours notice but we approved it bc we need all the showings we can get. we straightened up some this morning before we left and we'll do the rest, the actual cleaning and wiping things down tomorrow morning

Peyton read part of another one of the Ranger's Apprentice short stories on the way there and back, turns out I did miss some of the beginning of it nodding off on the way home from the drag show a couple weeks ago but I didn't admit it and caught up pretty quickly. there's still one more chapter which we may read before bed tonight but if not we'll get to it tomorrow

at six flags we got to do most of the rides we wanted, and the season drink cups are already on closeout sale so we got more than our $10 worth in refills just today. we're definitely going to go back later and get the pass for the haunted houses, but it was nice not having the pressure to hit everything in one day. I did the proposal in the troll area bc that's one of Paige's favorites, Peyton helped me set it up by talking to one of the scare actors on our first time through it to get him to help distract her when we came back through a bit later. we also did some of the crane games and each got a little plushie from them!

we had to walk all the way back to the metropolis area for the Beetlejuice drone show, which was basically just a sky advertisement for Six Flags, Fanta, and the Beetlejuice movie, but it was still cool to see a drone show. on our way up to the front to exit we were walking behind a family and talking about drone shows and fireworks and comparing the fireworks at Zuri Fascht to places in the US that do fireworks (namely Disney) and the little girl, probably 8 or so, turned around and politely told us that that was actually a drone show we just watched, and we had to be like "oh we know we're just comparing it to fireworks because we've seen both." the mom quietly told her that she can't butt into other people's conversations but we talked slightly loudly about how we don't mind bc if we're talking where people can hear it and they're interested in the subject they can make a passing comment, and that Paige does that all the time. it was honestly a sweet exchange

we're back home now and all taking our showers/baths and cleaning up after the long day while we scrounge food from the kitchen for dinner, and soon it will be bedtime. it was hot and my shorts chafed me some, but it was a good day overall! tomorrow we get to go to lunch with Hillary and her mom, and although I have no clue what the plans are, it'll be nice to see them (and the dogs, we finally get to meet Blue!)

[legy]

random game roundup 3

A Hell of a Journey - PWYW

what if it was the divine comedy but virgil was just an absolute piece of shit. he had no fucking idea what was going on. you have to go through hell to get to purgatory and this idiot is no help at all

this is a short & sweet twine game. the illustrations carry it. it's pretty cute and took me under 5 minutes to read

Samorost 2 - $4.99

hey i said this was random game roundup not random itch game roundup. i just have 3000 itch games

amanita design is literally like the all-timer for 00s indie devs. ive known of their point-and-clicks for basically the entire time ive been conscious. i think ive only played samorost 1 and machinarium before now.

its hard to beat the level of vibes-based gaming samorost operates on. this is what gnome tumblr is all about

apparently in 2020 this got a remaster that let the game support modern resolutions using AI upscaling on old assets, and to its credit it ran awesome for a game this old. it didnt fuss at all about tabbing out or using a second monitor while playing. however i think the upscaled assets look pretty shit? lol. like the art direction in this game is extremely strong but the raster images definitely were not meant to be seen bigger than 1024x768 and it makes the characters who scaled up much better stick out suuuper bad.

music completely rips ass tho. hell yeah brother

i actually went ahead and finished this at an entire half an hour playtime. big fan of samorost 2

T.A.R.S - $1.99

included in: Bundle for Ukraine

first thing i got struck by with this game is that it is extremely good looking for the price tag and my lowered standards. there is also a lot of voice acting which is pretty amateur but a lot of heart went into it. i could not find an option to subtitle the dialogue which kinda sucked

T.A.R.S is a third person shooter with a focus on difficulty via being killed in one hit and having very limited resources. you're fighting werewolves or something. i didn't play long enough to see them do more than just chase after me in a straight line so idk if the enemy AI is interesting

one of the big downsides of T.A.R.S is that the game is dark as fuck. shot like a modern hollywood film. like that one episode of game of thrones. i cant play this on my high refresh rate monitor because the sun is up right now and the ambient light in my room is too much and i cant see anything. also the game emphasizes wearing headphones and focusing on hearing the enemies before you see them but the sound design is um. not great. i kept getting snuck up on because the guys dont make any noises until theyre two inches away

i don't think i gave this a good enough chance but i'm not a horror fan nor am i a shooter fan so it's really not for caelums. maybe you'll like it tho

Panic Factory - $1.50

included in: Bundle for Ukraine

panic factory is a puzzler pretending to be a shooter. you are an eco-activist that has been trapped in a torture dungeon by a corporate CEO and need to figure your way out. with a shotgun. and whatever ammo you can scrounge up

the voice acting in this is very hammy and the pixel art is appealing to look at so the presentation is pretty solid. i found this difficult to spend a lot of time in because again i don't like shooters and i found that the reaction times this game expects out of you in the first level to a be a bit extreme. also required arrow keys to move :thumbsdown:

Weird Grief - PWYW

im so fucking sorry for how hard i laughed

i honestly really liked this. weird grief is a twine about the immediate aftermath and slow recovery after the death of a loved one. and you are poly. and furry. it has explicit sex scenes so watch out for that. but this is worth reading imo

[whitesuitdarkiplier]

Darkiplier x reader who finally confronts him for stealing their body and leaving them behind? Sobbing and filled with sorrow and rage as they scream at him, and Dark has the crushing feeling of remorse, because he had become so broken and bitter over the years that he hadn’t truly thought about what he and Celine had done to the reader. He hadn’t stopped to think about it, because he knew if he ever did that he would never be able to keep up the bitter rage to complete his mission of revenge against actor mark.

IDK, I just like the idea of the actor maybe starting out of getting the reader from the mirror and putting them in his stories, but that the memory wipe isn’t as good as he thinks it is, because the reader, every time they start to remember, chooses to stay, because at least actor came back for them. Because while actor mark is Dark’s villain because he stole his body and left him to die, technically, Dark did the same thing to the reader. So, Dark would technically be reader’s actor mark. So how can they ever be what they were before? How can they? Every time the reader looks at Dark, all they see is their own walking corpse.

Anyways, I like pain and angst and think that would be cool to be explored.

Prompt: “He came back for me. You didn’t. And you know what? I don’t need you anymore.”

This was so emotional to write. Thank you for this prompt! Angst is good for the soul sometimes. I hope you really enjoy it!

You and Mark had been on many adventures together. Many crazy situations you didn’t know how to escape, many fun times you never wanted to end…and all the while, he thought it was because you couldn’t remember who you were, what had happened—what he had done. Whatever he did to purge you of your memories faded more and more with time. There were inklings of the truth always there, always an option to leave and never look back. To leave the demon to his demons and rest your own soul.

But even though by now you remembered everything, knew what was going on, you stayed. You stayed by his side. You said yes to him, you never split up, you held on. Because despite the sins of his past—he always did the same for you. He found you, lost and broken, alone where your once best friend had left you. He picked up those shattered pieces and made something new, gave you a starring role right by his side. He called you friend.

Perhaps it was all a lie. A way to keep someone else trapped with him in this never ending purgatory; misery does love company, after all. But even so…he never abandoned you.

You were back in the void again, a familiar ringing, a familiar face. Dark stood before you, and you’d met him a thousand times before. But now was different. Now, you wouldn’t remain silent.

“I know the feeling of being trapped in his games,” Dark said, almost pleading with you to wake up, “But we don’t have to be.”

“We?” You scoffed, something in you set ablaze, “There is no ‘we’. You left me. You promised we would fix things together and then you left me.”

You start to shake. You’re standing before your own broken and battered corpse. You try to see Damien and Celine beneath it all, but…you can’t. Not anymore. All those years of solitude and pain boil to the surface in rage and sorrow.

“Do you have any idea how long I waited, scrounging my mind for even the smallest bit of hope that you would return for me,” tears quickly form in your eyes and spill down your cheeks, “You were so caught up in your thirst for revenge that you discarded me like an old cloth and left me to rot! But you know who found me? You know who saw my broken soul and helped me? Mark.”

You took a step forward, your anger fueling you. “Mark gave me a second life. I’m not trapped in his games, Dark. I’ve chosen to stay because he actually gave enough of a fuck to come back for me!” You glare at him. “You talk about him and his sins, but you’re the same as him. You betrayed me. Your friend. I trusted you! And you tricked me and stole my body. You’re just like him.”

Dark scowls, staring at you, but he says nothing. He has no defense, no excuse. And for the first time in so, so long…the burning rage is dampened and in its place are the cold ashes of remorse. He’s never felt more pain than this moment, when his friend…former friend, pierced him with the ugly truth. He never stopped to think of you left in that mirror because of him. He convinced himself that somehow you were in the mirror because of Mark. But it was him. The two of you could have left that manor together and tried to pick up the pieces, leaving Mark alone with no story to tell. But he played into his hands.

“So he’s gotten what he wanted,” you say bitterly, “You are the villain. And he’s the hero.”

Dark’s she’ll cracks into a million versions of himself, screaming in agony and rage. Still, he says nothing.

You turn and start walking. Just as you could choose to leave Mark at any point…you can leave him in his void. Mid-step, you stop and turn around. Fire still burns in your eyes, and your next words are a knife to Dark’s heart.

“He came back for me. You didn’t. And you know what?” There’s venom in every syllable. “I don’t need you anymore.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re standing in the control room of the Invincible II, staring out the window into the cold vacuum of space. You’ve let go, you think. You’ve accepted your role, took back some semblance of power over your own life. But still…it��s a hollow victory.

“Thank you,” Mark says beside you, looking towards your new home planet. You look at him, his eyes so sincere it makes your heart ache. So much that you don’t stop to wonder if he’s just being a good actor.

“For not giving up on me,” he says with a soft grateful smile.

You reach out and grip his shoulder in a friendly gesture. Your friend. Your captor. Your hero.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[pippytmi]

Supercorp + Hogwarts AU + meet messy + "is that the best you can do?"

“Hey, do you guys want to see a muggle magic trick?”

Kara doesn’t have to look up to know Alex and Kelly are exchanging glances over Nia’s head. Nia is the best witch in the fifth year hands-down, but her grasp of muggle illusions leave a lot to be desired.

“Sure…” Kelly agrees, politely but unsurely, while Alex shakes her head.

“If this is that stupid coin trick again, Nia—” she starts, but Nia is already squeezing between them on the grass, unfolding a pack of muggle playing cards.

“It is not,” Nia says. “Prepare to be amazed! Yvette says I’m really good at this one.”

“Oh, joy,” Alex mutters under her breath, which turns into a pained yelp when Kelly elbows her in the ribs.

Kara finally raises her gaze from the newspaper she’s been half-reading, fully prepared to commit to Nia’s trick, but then she catches a glimpse of dark hair and a brisk pace. It’s Lena Luthor, notorious loner, actually sitting outside by the black lake with her books.

It’s odd—Lena never sits outside. People talk; Lena doesn’t have many friends (someone even started a rumor that Lillian Luthor pays Jess, another sixth year, to hang out with Lena). In fact, the only time anyone really sees Lena is in class, or in the Slytherin common room when Jess is also there. Kara sees her even less (only when Slytherin and Gryffindor share classrooms), but that doesn’t make the hopeless crush she’s fostered on her since they were eleven any less potent.

Kelly starts clapping suddenly, reluctantly dragging Kara’s eyes from Lena (who is reading a book; Kara is wondering just what kind of book it is). “Aw, Nia, that was good!” she says. “Do it again!”

Even Alex is curiously lifting up the cards one by one, as if trying to determine the trick herself. “Did you use actual magic for this?” she asks.

“I’m just that good,” Nia brags, though the way she tries to expertly shuffle the cards right back into their box suggests otherwise; half of them spill onto the grass. “Oh man!”

“I’ve got this,” Kara says, absentmindedly reaching for her wand. “Accio—”

“Kara, no!”

Oh, that’s right, Kara thinks belatedly. My wand is broken. It had been an unfortunate event on the Quidditch pitch involving an overzealous Hufflepuff seeker (Winn is still very apologetic about it, but it can’t be helped now). Unfortunately, Kara never seems to quite remember that magic is off-limits until it can be fixed.

And even more unfortunate is the fact that her mind and her words have begun to converge; she’s thinking about the book Lena is reading while glancing at the cards, and her mouth is forming silent words, and really it’s not a surprise at all when said book rockets out of Lena’s hands and aims right for Nia’s head.

No one dies, though, nor do they have to make the unpleasant trudge to the infirmary—Kelly is far quicker than any of Kara’s botched magic, and the book explodes into nothing when she mutters a firm, “Evanesco.”

“Kelly!” Kara forgets, for a second, about the whole Nia-about-to-break-her-face thing; her heart drops to the pit of her stomach at the thought that something of Lena Luthor’s has been reduced to figurative dust. What if that book was personal? What if it was special? What if it was—

“Excuse me,” says a quiet, sudden voice, and Kara just about falls over in the grass at the sight of Lena Luthor standing there. “I think you summoned my book.”

Kelly winces. “Oh, actually—”

“I destroyed it,” Kara blurts out, because really, this is her fault and Nia still has a face so the least Kara can do is take a fall for a friend. “I’m sorry. My wand is broken, and I was trying to summon some cards, but I was looking at you and thinking about your book and it just…I’m sorry. Again. I can pay for it?” She immediately begins digging into the pockets of her robes, but all she manages to scrounge up is a broken sugar quill and a drawing on a torn sheet of paper that depicts Professor Grant as a dragon.

For a moment, all Lena does is stare down at Kara in a peculiarly quizzical way. She doesn’t seem mad or anything, just perplexed. A second later she says, “You were thinking about ‘Voyages with Vampires’ strongly enough to summon it? I don’t really enjoy Gilderoy Lockhart books myself.”

“To be fair,” Kara’s quick to defend herself, “I couldn’t read the title from this far.”

“Right. You decided you wanted to snatch my book from me because it was mine.” And just like that, the curious expression on Lena’s face drops entirely, twists into something resigned and exhausted. “Is that the best you can do? Petty little child games?”

“What? No, I would never—”

“Because last week Eve Tessmacher hit me with a furnunculus curse that was far more clever than this,” Lena all but sneers. “It’s always the pig-headed Gryffindors that aim out of their league.”

“You wanna say that again?” Alex is jumping up, her wand brandished out, and Lena glances from her to Kara to Kelly to Nia, as if just realizing how potentially outnumbered she could be.

Except, well, that’s so not the issue. Kara hastens to stand between Alex’s wand and Lena’s body, nearly knocking her sister over in the process. “No! No, I didn’t do that as a prank, I—” She pauses, feels her cheeks go hot, and then rushes out, “Ijustthinkyou’rereallypretty!”

Alex lowers her wand; Kara can tell, because Alex uses it to jab her in the ribs. “Oh, bloody hell,” Alex grumbles, and she nudges Kelly to join her. “I think that’s our cue. I’d rather study for Potions than watch this.”

Kelly obligingly drags Nia along, who looks like she wants to protest, but eventually Nia caves in—though not without trying to wink conspiringly at Kara, which doesn’t work because Nia “winks” with both eyes.

“But—” Kara watches as her friends scatter, and then she is left with the heavy, accusatory gaze of Lena Luthor. She tries to smile, but imagines her attempt is more of a wince than anything. “Did I mention that I’m sorry?”

Lena takes a step forward. She raises her chin in the air, no less guarded, but her eyes convey a tiny bit of that earlier curiosity all the same. “You’ve already had your fun, Kara Danvers,” she says. “But I will give you credit, no one has played the ‘I have a crush on you’ prank yet.”

Kara frowns. “Do people really play pranks on you so much?”

“I am the weird little sister of a boy who tried to blow up Hogwarts,” Lena all but deadpans. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re way more than Lex Luthor’s sister, and that’s just...really mean,” Kara says, words bursting out before she even pauses to rein them in. “I mean, you are so smart! Last year you saved a bunch of first years who wandered into the Forbidden Forest. A-and you never tried out for Quidditch, but sometimes you fly with Jess on the pitch and you’re so fast you could easily run circles around anyone on the Slytherin team. You’re the coolest person ever. Even when you were eleven, you—” Finally, her brain starts to catch up with her mouth, and Kara flushes hotter than she ever thought possible. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean for that to sound…stalker-y. I only know about the first year thing because Professor Grant’s son was new that year and I was supposed to be babysitting him. And then the flying, well, sometimes I go to the pitch with Winn whenever he wants to practice—”

“Kara. You can breathe any time you want,” Lena prompts, and Kara pauses to do exactly that.

“Sorry,” Kara adds, again, after she’s let her lungs rest a bit. Her whole body feels shivery from head to toe, like she is seconds away from fainting, and honestly? She just might. “Anyway. Um. I can replace that book if you want. Or I can give you the money and you can pick out a better one, since you said you weren’t a fan? Whatever you want.”

Lena is quiet for a beat. “What were you going to say before? About when I was eleven?”

Kara bites her lip so hard she knows she will inevitably have to ask Kelly to heal it later. “Oh, that,” she says evasively. “I meant, when you were eleven, and I walked face-first into the wrong wall trying to get to platform nine and three quarters, and you didn’t even laugh at me. You just...helped me up, and promised you would walk with me to the train until I found my family again.”

“I remember,” Lena says, and her voice is softening, as is her expression. “You somehow got lost between platforms seven and eight. Your sister was furious when she caught up with us.”

“Yeah.” And Kara finds herself smiling at that memory; this time it’s a real smile, and she couldn’t stop it if she tried. “That was really nice.” She wants to mention more—how even when Lillian Luthor scowled at Kara’s hand-me-downs, Lena complimented her right away on the shirt that had once been Alex’s—but all Kara does right now is step back. “I’ve bothered you enough, I think. Will you…let me know? About the book?”

“I don’t care about the book,” Lena says, and she swallows, loud enough that Kara can hear it. “Do you mean it?”

“That you’re...nice?”

“Yes.” Lena’s cheeks are a faint pink color, and Kara’s entire mouth goes dry.

“Well, yeah,” Kara says, and in that moment—with Lena blushing, and Kara’s chest tightening—they both know that she’s confessing to so much more than thinking Lena is nice. “So. Um.” She squares her shoulders, and prepares to be brave enough to live up to the Gryffindor name: “Can I buy you something that’s not a book? Sometime? Maybe on our next trip to Hogsmeade?”

“Like a date?” Lena asks, so impossibly soft, and Kara nods.

“Exactly like a date,” Kara says, and honestly, she should demand ten points to Gryffindor herself because her voice does not waver once.

And Lena Luthor smiles, just cautious enough to show how unsure she is, but still warm enough that Kara’s heart skips a beat. “Okay,” she says. “But on one condition: I’ll handle any magic until then.”

“Deal,” Kara agrees, and it’s official; breaking her wand might have been the best thing that has ever happened to her, ever.

[byulsgrease]

duly noted

you've never been one to obsess about your soulmate, assuming you'll figure it out when the time is right. but seriously, what kind of nonsense has yours been writing about recently?

(eventual moonbyul / wheein x gender neutral reader, soulmate!au, trainee/idol!au, ~1.2k words)

a/n: wheein bias wrecker anon! I might've had too much fun with your req and so this is gonna be my first soulmate au 🤠 while byul and wheein don't actually appear in this part (does that make this a prologue? idk), I promise they'll make their appearance soon enough :)

cw: struggles of being a trainee (weight + food talk)

The claps from your dance instructor ring out in the mirrored studio, calling everyone to attention before they send you off for the day. Everyone stands around listening to whatever niceties they're talking about, asking the rhetorical questions of whether all of you want this, how everyone needs to work harder, etc. How many years has it been now, almost three? Evaluations went pretty well recently and you've certainly demonstrated signs of growth since you started, but debut? Who knows. Does anyone, really?

But right now it's late and you're hungry, hoping that your growling stomach isn't loud enough to pierce through the lecture. You're respectfully tuned out anyway, since it's all old news. Nothing you haven't heard before. They clap again once their spiel ends and everyone disperses. Your eyes catch Hyejin's on your way out of the studio, sharing a funny face and an eyeroll before disappearing into the herd of trainees shuffling to the lockers.

Your locker opens with a routine spin of the dial, taking care to slow down and line up the numbers properly so you're not stuck having to do it over again. The inside's pretty cute for a metallic rectangle— it's really the only space of your own besides your notebook. Pictures of your family, old school friends, and fellow trainee friends line the sides beneath a tiny string of battery-powered fairy lights. It's not much, but always a humbling reminder of why you're here.

Unzipping your bag, you take out a pair of slides and drop them on the floor while stepping out of your sneakers. There's not much else in your bag, just a change of clothes and your notebook, of course. Everyone has one. Anything inside could be drawn, written, scribbled, painted. It’s your personal creative space and no one else's, but with two conditions:

You can't write your name in it, not even your initials. Of course everyone tried to as kids against their parents commands, but letters simply sink into the page, disappearing as if they'd never been written at all.

You can only mark up one side. Pages on the right side are for you, and the left side pages fill themselves. Fill themselves with what? you asked your parents. They gave you a non-answer, saying you'd figure it out someday. Great. Only other thing they bothered to tell you was that your right-hand pages were someone's left-hand ones. So someone can see what I put here? Their confirmation sounded rather casual, which you found weird. Someone out there was watching what you put in? But you got used to it, especially since every person owns one. It's a novelty for children anyway. Mark up a page however you want, knowing that someone out in the would will see, and sit back to watch whatever randomness shows up on the left side.

Your left side pages were actually empty for quite a while, save for the occasional "UGGHHH" followed by a typical childish annoyance scrawled messily across the entirety of the page in marker. Not that notebook use was mandatory, but parents usually encouraged it because it kept their kids occupied. There wasn't much you could do about empty pages, nor did you care most of the time, but it did leave you a little jealous of other kids at school who'd sometimes open theirs and be greeted with cute watercolor paintings, mini murals, or skillfully written poetry.

For you, the notebook's served many uses. As a kid it was random doodles and poorly-drawn fantasy scenarios— escapism, perhaps. In middle school it was angsty poems and random journal entries about the random happenings of your life. For the first half of high school it became your to-do list, keeping track of school assignments. And on the rarest occasion, song lyrics. Visual art was never your medium of choice, music came more easily. But drawing staff lines for music notation in the notebook usually ended up being too tedious, so your original stuff was mostly relegated to voice memos on your phone. And now? Who knows. Trainee life may as well be a blur. Sing, dance, talk, eat if you can afford to, sleep, repeat. It's hard to find the energy to write anything most days. Whenever you feel like checking, the left side has random jottings, nearly illegible most of the time.

It wasn't until you got older that you realized that whoever read your entries on the was the same person generating content on the left. And supposedly the person you're supposed to be with for the rest of time? What kind of system is that? I'm just supposed to trust blindly? having asked your parents in exasperation after figuring it out. Again with more non-answers— it had worked for them, didn't it? There's also the obvious question of why people don't just write directly to each other, but whatever. You're still young, no need to obsess over "the one" unlike some of your classmates. If it's meant to be, it'll happen, you figure. And it obviously is, you've got a notebook with (semi-)filled left side pages. What more could you ask for?

The cacophony of clanging lockers opening and closing starts to die down as people leave. Hyejin's head pops out from behind the locker door, laughing in your face when you flinch.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, one sec. Man, I'm starving,” you remark while slipping the bag straps on your back and closing the locker door. You don't even want to know how strapped for cash you are, probably in for another night of boiled eggs and canned kimchi.

“Wanna go out for food?” she immediately asks, eyes alight at the prospect of getting to eat something besides convenience store food.

"I wish. Actually, you wish," you smirk with longing in your eyes. The "no" doesn't even have to be said, weigh-ins are way too soon to risk it. She hangs her head, jokingly dejected as you swing an arm around her shoulder to walk out of the company building together.

~~~~

After scrounging up whatever food you call dinner, taking a shower, and flopping into bed, you open up your notebook and grab the random pen laying on your dresser, unsure of what you'll write about tonight. There's chicken scratch on the left page already, ballpoint pen. It's actually legible today, though: In my room every day I see your smile.

What the hell does that mean? Whose smile, yours? You haven't even met yet.

Call me everyday every night, hug me everywhere every time

Utter nonsense. Maybe meeting soulmates is just a huge game of catch-up once everything's finally revealed, surely yours will be. There’s just so many questions. Moving to the right side, you jot down a list of cheat meal ideas along with some assorted notes and pointers from practice that you want to work on tomorrow, drawing little characters next to each list item for fun. After accidentally drawing a random squiggle from jolting yourself awake and feeling the heaviness in your eyelids, you cap your pen and shut your notebook, placing it back in your bag. With the lights out, the last thought you have before sleep consumes you is why haven't you ever tried writing directly to each other after all this time?

[next]

[ripperdaddy]

the viktor vector romance path + ending we deserve

Disclaimer: This is definitely something I came up with in my head. There will be a few instances that are solely made up so it can tie in with the “story.” This is purely fictional; something I wished happened if there was a possible Vik romance 🥰 This is based on my general knowledge of the game & Vik’s life. All gifs + images are from my own personal play through, but wouldn’t be possible without the help of the Appearance Menu Mod, found on Nexus Mods by the creators, MaximiliumM and CtrlAltDaz. And the shirtless Vik mod by the lovely samsnak ♡

It would start after completing the Paid In Full quest where you pay Vik back the eddies you owe him.

I feel like realistically, the general player would have to be at least halfway through the story to have collected enough eddies. I would say that a good point in the story where we can begin the romance is that you’ve already established a connection to Alt and have dealt with the VDB’s.

I think it would be a short side quest like River’s. Vik already plays a big part in the story overall on his own, so I don’t think it’s necessary to make his “side quest” too long. His romance would just be an addition to the ending.

And as much as I would love for him to be a bisexual option for both male/female V, if we’re sticking with the game’s standard with limiting partners to only one kind of partner, he would only be romance-able by a female V with a feminine voice.

V: Finally scrounged up enough eddies to pay you back in full.

Vik: Hold on to ‘em just in case - you need ‘em more than me.

V: I’m not taking them all the way to my grave, Vik. Here. And.. thanks again for doing so much work on me ‘thout ever seein’ an enny.

Vik: That’s what friends are for.

Then, there is an additional option for dialogue to trigger the romance path.

V: Friends? I think you’ve been in and out of my body more than anyone else I’ve hooked up with in Night City.

He laughs, with a coy smile. “Well, can’t argue with you there. Why don’t we take some of these eddies and grab a drink. You know, to celebrate. Catch up on old times. Haven’t seen you round here much lately, kid.”

You agree to meet at the El Coyote Cojo tomorrow evening.

You meet around 9 PM and you are welcomed by the sight of Pepe and Vik at the bar.

V: Nice choice of venue.

Vik: Thought you’d like it. Haven't been here since.. well, you know.

V: I miss him, Vik.

Vik: I know, V. Me too.

You immediately take a seat and tinker with a few dialogue options, where you can either have a sweet moment talking about Jackie or some surface questions to ask, like how he’s doing, what kind of drink he likes, etc. But it all winds down to Jackie anyway, where Vik confides in you about his past. Judging by how Vik was so affected by Jackie’s death, and V’s (if you chose the suicide ending), you can tell that he has lost a lot in his life, and keeps his circle very small.

You then achieve an even closer, more personal relationship with him. But, ultimately nothing happens other than the usual, wait 24 hours in game for a text/phone call from Vik to head into the next stage. At least now, you have established the foundation for a future romance.

Halfway through the 24 hour period, you get a text from Vik thanking you for the lovely evening. No reply needed, as he calls you once the 24 hour mark hits and invites you out for another date.

You meet at Tom’s Diner for coffee in the afternoon. It starts off with him apologizing for being emotional the previous night and asks if you’re open to hanging out again and going down to Pacifica to watch a fight with him.

Vik: Hey, V. I just wanted to apologize about last night. I didn’t mean to be such a downer.

V: It’s okay, Vik. We share the same grief.

Vik: I was going to head down to Pacifica and catch a real good match later on today. I was wondering if you’d like to come along, think it’d be great for the both of us, you know, as a distraction.

pssst even Johnny’s rooting for y’all ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Johnny: Hmm, interesting.

V: What?

Johnny: Never thought you'd be going out with this guy.

V: Vik's amazing. And I mean--we basically owe it to him since he practically saved our life.

Johnny: Don't tell me you're going out with him out of pity.

V: I'm not.

Johnny: I know, I can feel you get all mushy-gushy. It's almost repulsive. Just wanted to hear you admit it.

V: Eat a dick, Johnny.

You arrive before the GIM and blend into the crowd.

V: Nothin’ like watching guys beat the shit out of each other to get your blood pumpin’, huh?

Vik: This is a real good matchup, V. This kid’s fresh, young talent.

V: You miss it, don’t you?

Before the fight begins, Vik shares a story about his time in the ring and coming in second in the Watson Boxing Grand Prix.

There’s some extra fun options in the dialogue, you can bet some eddies on who’s gonna win, or side with him. The fight ends, and you two head outside.

Since you’re already out in Pacifica, you head over to the boardwalk (where you would ride the roller coaster with Johnny) and he starts telling you about the last days of his boxing career and how he transitioned from the sport to being a ripperdoc.

You both share a sweet moment with each other, reminiscing about old times and talking about V’s future with the relic. This is where I would see Vik confessing how he feels about you, mentioning how grateful he is for Jackie introducing you to him.

The evening ends and Vik asks you to give him some time to try and dig up some footage from his storage and have you come over to watch. You can kiss him then wait another 24 in game hours before the last quest. Halfway through, he texts you and asks you what you’d like for dinner. You can opt for pizza or chinese.

I haven’t seen or read anything about how or where Vik lives. If I overlooked something, please let me know! But for the sake of the story, let’s say he does actually have his own place that’s now introduced in the game. Personally, I think he has a typical bachelor pad, like a really nice apartment. Not too far from his clinic either. He looks like he would just walk to work. Vik definitely has a lot of money, but he’s so humble I doubt he would choose to live lavishly. As mentioned in the beginning, he typically just “sleeps nights” ever since he was over “being a legend” so I’m guessing his lifestyle is very routine. He goes to work, goes home, sleep. Seems unlikely he has a place like the Peralez’s. It would probably be just the same as V’s but decorated to his taste.

The evening comes and you are over at his place. He’s dressed in just a white undershirt, no exo-glove. You get to know more about his family, how he grew up — scanning things around his place. Then he plays some footage of one of his fights for you, while you two have a conversation and share a beer. As you two sit on the couch, you get close, then have an opportunity to kiss him.

then this is where da sex happen hihihi (ノ・ω・)ノ

The next morning you wake up and you two have a heartfelt conversation about where this is going. He already knows your situation, so I would assume he is very accepting and supportive. And with Vik, he seems like the kind of guy who would still want to be in your life and keep the friendship the same way despite no longer being together romantically. So it’s official. He’s your man 🥵 !!11!1!

Like how River gives you the “fuck the police” tank top after sleeping with him, I think Vik would give you his Night City Devils t-shirt that provides you with a significant amount of armor or some kind of cyberware upgrade that makes you invulnerable for a brief moment while using your hands to fight enemies.

Note: I was thinking of Vik giving V his boxing glove necklace, but because it's part of his character's appearance in the game, I don't think we would be able to essentially "take it" from him - unless he gives you a replica as a keepsake. Which I think would also work.

If you successfully romance, during the rooftop scene near the end of Nocturne OP55N1 (despite Vik’s disposition of him telling you to take matters in your own hands and being a little closed off), you still have an option to reach out to him when Johnny advises you to call a loved one.

V: Hey, Vik. I just wanted to say, thanks for hanging with me, until the end.

Vik: Quit talking like it is, V. Just do what you need to do.

V: I mean, think of it. It’s like I’m heading into the last round of this whole thing.

Vik: Well, in that case.. remember—keep your hands up, guarded at all times. It ain’t over just yet.

V: Heh.. I can feel it, just a few more punches.

Vik: Now look at you - the new welterweight champ of Night City.

V: Thanks, coach.

Vik: Last piece of advice from the coach's corner. Just.. be careful, kid. Remember, I’m with you.

Okayyyy, soooo I’m not the biggest fan of how CDPR gave us two of the same endings (Path of Glory). The only difference is that Rogue’s life is spared. I would have assumed that not only would we get to keep Rogue around, things should have played a bit more differently for V if we took the route of going solo against the corpos. So let’s tweak it.

This specific ending; it should be after getting through Don’t Fear The Reaper where you single-handedly manage to rip through Arasaka by yourself. Johnny goes back to Alt & Rogue is still alive. Yes nobody dies!!!

(honestly this ending can apply to any love interest you choose)

Vik and V are now living together in a lavish penthouse, entertaining an upcoming merc to do their work for them (which is now the current POV of the player.) You were recruited by Rogue at the Afterlife, who told you to visit this couple for a real, preem job.

They give you some vague details about the gig and go on for a brief moment about what you will be doing and what you should expect. Vik emphasizes to you that it’s important you get what they need because it’s for his wife, V, as her life depends on it.

As Never Gonna Fade Away is playing in the background, they tell you to break into Arasaka HQ.

Then the game officially ends.

[onecanonlife]

In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned.

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first part) (previous part) (next part)

(word count: 3,960)

--------------------

Part Ten: Wilbur II

Wilbur wakes the morning of the election as President of L’Manberg, and he ends the evening of the election as President of L’Manberg, voted back into office by due democratic process.

There are things in between, of course. He reads out the results for all the SMP members to hear, as well as for those who have been following the event from different servers. He makes a speech, promises protection and safety for his citizens, promises renewed growth and prosperity and above all else, freedom from tyranny. He makes a good case for it all, he’s fairly sure, though he forgets the words that he speaks as soon as he leaves his podium.

There’s a bit of a celebration, after. Impromptu, unplanned, but those are the best kind. They all pitch in, scrounge up food and drink and games to play for when they get a bit tipsy, and it’s good.

He smiles through it.

He smiles when Tubbo claps him on the back, hooting and hollering. He smiles when Niki runs up to him and throws her arms around him in an embrace, even though she was running against him. He smiles when Eret sidles up to him, murmuring congratulations and briefly pressing his hand. He even smiles when a few citizens of the Greater SMP come to join in, Sapnap and Punz and Ponk and Karl. He smiles and smiles and smiles, and why shouldn’t he smile?

This is what he wanted. To know that his people continue to have faith in him, that they still believe him best for the job. To hold on to power, but to do it the right way. To be given full permission to assure the safety and freedom of those he loves, and the land that he has made.

The smile only slips twice.

Once: meeting Fundy’s eyes across the way. Fundy breaks his gaze just as quickly, glancing to the side, and he doesn’t come to speak with him. He’s not sure what to do about that. He’s not so blind as to not notice the tension that’s sprung into place between them lately, though he still can’t ascertain its origin. And it’s only gotten worse now, of course—but what did Fundy expect, that he would just let him commit voter fraud? He’s disappointed in his actions, and he can’t disguise that. Shouldn’t have to disguise that, because Fundy ought to know that wasn’t the right thing to do. But that means that his son steers clear of him. And he’ll admit that it hurts. Both for that, and for the fact that Fundy would do such a thing in the first place.

So the smile slips, when no one is looking.

But that is once, and twice comes now: Tommy bounding up to him, grin bright and wild, eyes shining with a light that he hasn’t seen there in—too long. Far, far too long. That light has been present all day, ever since he stepped up to the podium and announced the results, and Tommy let out a whoop and a holler and pumped his fist into the air like he was trying to punch the daylight from the sky, and it was so very Tommy that in that moment, he could feel nothing but relief. In general, Tommy’s seemed very relaxed. Celebratory, jubilant. As he should be.

And now, here he is, beaming, staring him in the face, gripping his arms. Eyes shining.

“How we feeling, big man?” he asks, loud and carefree, and it’s obvious from the way that he asks that he expects a certain kind of answer. Wilbur is more than happy to give it to him. He reaches out to ruffle his hair, and Tommy ducks away, but even that scowl doesn’t last for long.

“I’m on top of the world,” he says, and feels his own smile widen. For the first time in a while, he can look at Tommy and not feel pressing worry, not feel a tightness in his chest and a certainty in his bones that something is very, very wrong, that something has happened, and that in some way, he has failed. “We fucking did it, man.”

“We sure fucking did!” Tommy crows. “You and me, best fucking—best fucking day ever. We’re gonna make sure that L’Manberg’s the best country in the literal history of everything. And you’ll be the best president.”

“Of course I will,” he says. “That’s why they’ve elected me.”

Tommy nods sagely. Still grinning. Still bright-eyed. “It’s all going to be alright,” he says, voice lowering just a little. He sounds so very sincere. “Everything’s actually gonna be alright. You’re gonna do so great. You’re gonna do great, right?”

Of course he will. He will not settle for anything less. This duty has been entrusted to him once again, and he will not let his city fail, nor his people fall. He is the one they look to. He built this nation, and he must protect it. He will be great. He has more than just his own hopes riding on his back, and anything less than greatness is unacceptable, both for his own sake and for that of everyone else, for his own legacy and for the seeds planted in the present.

“We’re gonna do great,” he says. “You and I, and all of us.”

“Hell yeah,” Tommy says, and glances around him, at the celebration, still under full swing. Quackity has somehow obtained a stripper pole, and both Karl and Sapnap are looking on in great interest as he displays his talents in that area. Wilbur finds himself watching for a moment too long before tearing his gaze away. But Tommy doesn’t pay mind to any of that—which is good, because he is a child, a little baby man, and maybe he should go over to Quackity and talk about him toning it down, actually, while the minors are here—and instead brings his focus back around to him again.

“They all love you man, y’know?” Tommy says, voice going softer still. He finds his own expression gentling to match.

“They love this,” he agrees. “They love L’Manberg.”

“Because what’s not to love?” Tommy says, nodding in satisfaction. “Really, though, man. You’re gonna be alright. You’re gonna do great. No reason to worry about anything, y’know?”

“Okay, that’s a little concerning, coming from you,” he says. “Are there any shenanigans I should know about?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Tommy says, swatting at his arm. “I’m gonna go find where Tubbo got off to. But just, have a good night, yeah, Wil? You’ve really earned it. Future’s looking up.”

“I will,” he says. “And you too, Tommy, you’ve earned this just as much as I have. Maybe even more. Go have fun.” He pauses. “And if there do happen to be any shenanigans, let me know, would you? It’s been a while since I took part in any good old-fashioned shenanigans.”

Tommy casts him one last grin, brilliant as any sunrise he’s seen. And then, he’s off, weaving through everyone else. It’s good, that he’s happy. It’s been so long since he’s seemed truly happy. It gives Wilbur hope. Whatever damage was done to him that night, when he chose to give up his discs, maybe he really will bounce back. And he’s noticed that he and Tubbo have been closer again, so maybe that will help, too. Tommy will be okay.

Then, a wave of exhaustion hits him, apparently out of nowhere, and his smile slips.

He brings it up again in the next moment. But the fatigue remains—and he supposes it makes sense. It’s been a long, rather stressful day. Perhaps it’s time he turned it in.

Niki’s the first one he finds, and she smiles at his approach. There is still an air of tension about her—lingering frustration, he imagines, at the stunt Fundy tried to pull. He believes her when she says she was unaware. But she doesn’t seem to have any qualms about him, thank goodness, because he bears her no ill will for the incident. Or even Fundy—he is disappointed to be sure, but he doesn’t love his son any less. Nothing at all could make that happen. Perhaps he ought to make sure Fundy knows that.

Later, though. When they’ve both cooled down a bit.

“Hey, Wil,” she says. “Good party, huh?”

“It is,” he says. “I’m sort of beat, though, so I think I might go hit the hay, as it were. Just wanted to tell someone before I left, in case anyone wondered.”

“Okay,” she says, and her eyes pinch around the edges a little bit. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

She nods. “It’s been a long day,” she says, echoing his thoughts. “I’ll let everyone know, if they ask.” Her smile returns, full force, and she steps forward and takes his hand in hers. “Really, though, congratulations. I’m really proud of you. Anyone can see how much you care about this place, and that’s why they want you to keep leading it.”

His mouth has, unaccountably, gone slightly dry. “I do care,” he says. “But we all do. I mean, you literally made our flag. I don’t think I’ve told you enough how cool that is.”

“I wanted to,” she says simply, though she’s obviously pleased. “You don’t have to thank me for it. Every country should have a flag.”

“And every country should have someone who cares enough to sew it,” he says. “I’m glad it was you.”

“And I’m glad that this is you,” Niki replies, making a gesture toward the festivities around them, and the empty stage over to the side. Her eyes sharpen. “Even if I kind of wanted to be vice president. But you’re a good leader, Wilbur, and you’re a good man. A good friend. You deserve this. So go get some sleep, alright? Make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, saluting, and she rolls her eyes, pushing him away.

“Go on,” she insists, but there is laughter in her voice and a crinkle at the corners of her eyes, and she looks happy, too. Everyone looks very happy. Even Fundy seems to be involved in things by now, and Quackity, his fiercest competition, appears to be enjoying himself.

Everyone is happy. So is he. There’s no reason at all for him not to be.

He tells himself that he’s going to go get some sleep, but his feet take him back to his office, instead. It’s empty, cast in a dim haze until he switches on the light, and just like that, the darkness is gone. His eyes flit across his desk, his chair, his shelves, all the paperwork that he’s definitely going to have to deal with, now that he knows for sure that he will continue to lead. He also has a potted plant, though he can’t quite recall who gave it to him. Might have been Tubbo, but he’s not sure.

He doesn’t sit. He goes to the window, presses himself up against it close enough to see the outside rather than his own reflection in the glass. Torchlight flickers, illuminating the country before him, and the walls are looming giants in the deepening night. He can see the cluster of lights where the others are, too, and he can see their dancing shadows, glimpses of their faces, far away echoes of their laughter.

Maybe he ought to go back. Some part of him wants to. He’s not sure why he’s holding himself away.

It’s probably because he’s tired. Because he is. Tired. Very tired.

It has been a long day.

He watches for a moment longer, and then closes his curtains, shutting out the world beyond this room. He turns to his desk, then, and his paperwork, though he’s loath to actually work on anything tonight, despite the fact that there’s a million things he could be doing. Drafting a formal missive to Dream, for instance, in light of his official election to power. Ensuring continued good standings between their nations—because as little as he likes the man, he’s not going to provoke him again, if it can be helped.

Especially not with Tommy—the way that he is. Not until he’s gotten to the bottom of that, and probably not even after.

So, he should write to Dream. He should also write to Phil. Tell him about what’s been going on. He’s been considering asking for advice on the whole Tommy situation, actually—Phil’s old as balls, so maybe he might know what to do, or even what this could be about. It’s a long shot, of course, but it’s worth a try.

Except he doesn’t particularly want to do either of those things. Not at the moment. But then, that doesn’t leave him with a whole lot of options, so why did he come here in the first place if he didn’t intend to do something? He ought to go to bed, like he said he would.

But then—

“Hey, Wilbur,” Quackity says, and he looks up, blinking. Quackity’s leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. Somewhere along the line, he’s regained his clothes. “Knock, knock.”

“Quackity,” he says. “Good to see you. Here, come in, pull up a chair.”

Quackity quirks a brow, but that seems to be all the invitation he needs. He all but saunters in, grabbing one of the chairs and tugging it right up against the desk.

“I actually did want to speak with you at some point,” he continues.

“Then this works out, doesn’t it?” Quackity says. “I had the same idea. I figured we should clear the air or something like that. If it even needs clearing, I dunno. What do you think?”

“It certainly can’t hurt to talk,” he agrees.

“Right,” Quackity says. “Well, I guess I should start off by saying good job. Congrats on winning.” He smiles, and there’s something sharp in it, something of a challenge. Wilbur can’t say that he hates it; it’s good to be challenged, every now and then. And now, there’s less danger in it, his position secure. “Though I really gave you a run for your money, didn’t I? And Jack, of course.”

Jack’s name is added as an afterthought. He’s always had the impression that Quackity would rather have picked someone else for his running mate. But he left it fairly late, and by the time he decided that he definitely wanted one, there weren’t many people left to choose from. Tubbo wouldn’t have joined him, and Eret stayed out of the whole affair, and in terms of L’Manberg citizens, that pretty much just left Jack Manifold.

He wonders who Quackity would have chosen, if he’d had free reign of the SMP. Somehow, he’s glad that didn’t happen. Good foresight, on Tommy’s part, to add that restriction. And a good idea in general, too.

“You did,” he says with a nod. “It was a good showing. You were the one I was worried about, to be honest with you. If anyone could have beaten me, it would have been you.”

“You’re damn right,” Quackity answers. “We got close. But no cigar, I guess. There’s always next time.”

Next time. Next time.

Right. Elections are a fairly regular thing. He’ll have to do this again.

Right, no, that’s—fine. It’s fine. And it wouldn’t be for a while yet, so he doesn’t even have to think about it right now.

“But I just wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings between us,” Quackity says. He leans back in his chair, tipping it so that only two legs rest on the floor, and he regards him. “I mean, I meant what I said on the campaign trail, and I still stand by it. I don’t know that you’re taking this country in the best direction, Wilbur. I don’t know that it’s not gonna—stagnate, under you, or that Dream won’t come up and declare war again. I meant all of that. But it’s not like I don’t like you as a person, and you’ve won fair and square, so I was hoping we could put our differences behind us. Let bygones be bygones and all that.”

He’s heard everything that Quackity has to say on the matter of his leadership, and hearing it all again is a bit—irritating. But the honesty is refreshing, was then and still is now, and he’d rather these things be said to his face than whispered behind his back.

And also, there’s the fact that it’s Quackity. It was Tommy who convinced him to let him join in the first place, but the man’s grown on him, he’ll confess.

“I would have trusted you to lead,” he admits, and meets Quackity’s gaze squarely. “I disagree with you on quite a few matters, but I believe that you have L’Manberg’s best interests at heart. So as far as I’m concerned, it’s all water under the bridge.”

He speaks nothing but the truth. Quackity is—not precisely the vision he has in mind for L’Manberg’s future. But he cares about this place, that much is obvious. So if Quackity had won, he would have bowed out gracefully, would have established himself some property and entered a graceful retirement, at—at peace. Surely at peace, all of his questions answered and his guidance unneeded. His person no longer required.

His stomach turns, a gut-churning combination of longing and revulsion flooding him, impacting him so intensely that it’s a half-second scramble to make sure that none of it shows on his face, to lock everything back down again, to be interpreted later or forgotten about, depending on his mood.

“That’s great to hear,” Quackity says. “Friends?”

Quackity sticks out his hand.

“Friends,” he agrees, and takes it.

“Fantastic,” Quackity says. “I guess that’s all I wanted to say. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” He gestures broadly, lips twitching upward. “Niki said you were gonna get some sleep, so I’d do that before she finds out you’re not.”

He can’t help but laugh, and Quackity stands. “I’ll take that under consideration,” he says. “Good night, Quackity.”

“Night, Wilbur,” Quackity says, and turns to go. But then, he stops in the doorway, looking back. “I just gotta ask, though, why all of this? Why have an election at all? Why risk losing? If you wanted to stay in charge, why not just stay in charge? No one would’ve questioned you, but instead, you put on all of this. Just to keep a position you ended up keeping anyway.”

Ah. His mind blanks for a moment, because he doesn’t know how to describe to Quackity the fact that people were already questioning him, if he didn’t pick up on that. But surely, he must have; Quackity himself built his entire campaign around questioning him. His right to lead, his capability, his intentions. And those sentiments could not have come from nowhere.

To be honest, he’s not certain that he has the words to explain it to himself, either.

“I could ask the same of you,” he says, “in regards to your running.”

Quackity stands there for a moment. And then tilts his head.

“I think we both know the answer to that, Wilbur,” he says, and his next smile is a wry thing. “See you tomorrow.”

And then, he’s gone.

And Wilbur does know.

He is not blind to Quackity’s desire for power. His desire to do something good with it, to be sure—he’s never caught any malice in his seeking. But what he seeks is power, and there is no mistaking that. Sometimes, Wilbur looks in his eyes and sees a reflection of himself. Paler, different, slanted, but a reflection nonetheless. He has heard the siren’s call of ambition and heard it well, and he recognizes that in Quackity, and Quackity recognizes it in him.

But it’s not just about power. Not for him, anyway. Or rather, it is power, to be sure, but it’s the power to keep safe. To protect. To be free. And to build something great, something that will outlive him, something that will make him worthy of the looks in people’s eyes when they meet his. That’s what it was about. And that’s why the election mattered.

Though for a moment, he lets himself picture it: retirement. A house, with plenty of room. Time to spare, for everyone and everything. A guitar, finally tuned again. A warm summer’s day, and a crisp autumn’s evening. No pressure, few responsibilities, and an hour or several to sit under his own vine and fig tree.

But he doesn’t think he’s made for things like that, really.

And even besides, these idle speculations don’t matter. Quackity didn’t win, and he remains president of this nation. There will be no quiet retirement, not yet. There is so much work that he has to do, and he can feel all those future tasks piling on his shoulders, weights stacking on his skin, clinging like barnacles on a weathered, abandoned pier.

And it’s all alright, because it’s what he wants.

Without this, where would he stand? With himself, and with the others? They all look to him for a reason, so what would happen if that reason were gone?

No. Best not to let his mind wander down that path.

His ambitions are realized. The elections are over. His people are happy, and they still want him. They still believe he can do right by them. They are celebrating his victory even now. Tommy was smiling, and there was none of that strange, terrifying darkness in his gaze.

He has everything he wants.

He checks his communicator, idly. There’s a few messages from people on the server, those who aren’t at the party. Most are congratulatory. There’s Dream, asking for a meeting already, but he anticipated that. There’s even a few messages from people off-world, and he raises an eyebrow at those—inter-server communication costs a pretty penny, so he’s a bit surprised that Technoblade put the effort in to send a message that just says lame. Or maybe he shouldn’t be surprised at all. And Schlatt’s sent him some snarky congratulations, and he supposes he should answer him, since he went through the trouble. Though he’s not going to invite him, still, no matter how nice it might be to catch up. Not until he figures out what Tommy’s problem with him is, and whether it’s solvable.

But he types out a response to both, a quick Like you can talk, Potato Man to Techno and something a bit longer and properly sarcastic to Schlatt, wincing at the cost of shooting the messages through the void, across worlds, and then sets his communicator to the side. Stares at his desk, then at the covered window. He can still hear them.

He stopped smiling at some point. He doesn’t know when.

He picks up his pen, then sets it back down again. Drags a paper closer with his index finger, and then pushes it back. Slips his hand into his pocket to find his glasses, and then brings it out again, empty of everything but dust.

There’s work to do, and he should either get started or he should go to sleep, but his brain doesn’t seem to want to get the memo. So he sits.

He’s tired. That’s why he’s in this kind of mood. He’s tired, so he’ll just sit here until he feels ready to get some true rest, and it’ll all look better in the morning. Not that it doesn’t look good now.

But he is very tired.

[fireemblems24]

Merit Based System

This is a bit all over the place. Sorry about that. I watched a show this weekend that really illustrates why I no longer believe in Edelgard's system after her support with Ferdinand.

Spoilers for Fire Emblem Three Houses CF route and Edelgard & Ferdinand's support and the show Segodon up to episode 8.

Segodon is a taiga drama that retells the life of historical figure Saigo Takamori a. k. a. the last samurai. This man was a brilliant politician and played an instrumental role in Japan's tumultuous 1800s where they overthrew the shogun and instated a modern government. The show itself is absolutely fantastic so far (though, I love anything to do with the Bakumatsu, no, that's a lie, there's some real shitty Bakumatsu anime.).

Like the real life Saigo, the fictional representation has a lot of "merit." As the show writes him, he has a high level of empathy for people who are hurting because of Japan's horrible, outdated systems and is constantly does whatever is in his power to convince the powers that be to back off a bit because their taxes and punishments are so harsh at times, his native Satsuma was at serious risk of starving its entire agricultural force out of work.

Not only is Saigo intelligent, but he's also tenacious. He "dares" to ask his "betters" to see the errors of their way, goes out of his way to try and get audiences with people far above his station, and does everything he possibly can to help everyone around him. Whether he's tackling problems with a larger system or a hurting individual around him, he's trying his best to make things right. And when people listen to him, things improve. People are also naturally drawn to his leadership and overall gentle disposition.

He's also broke.

Saigo comes from a very poor, very large family. So when the powers that be grant him an opportunity to travel to Edo (then capital of Japan), where he could get real experience, where he could start rubbing shoulders with the right people and find ways to gain influence, learn, etc . . . He can't. Because his family can't cough up 30 ryo.

No matter how much merit Saigo has, his upbringing keeps him from reaching his full potential. The top leadership of the area invites him to the opportunity of a life time, but even with an open invitation, he can't so easily accept it.

His mother, father, and grandfather had all just died (and this is a historical fact, at least) and left him in charge. The family went into even more debt buying medicine during various illnesses. There's younger and elder family he needs to look out for, a sister who he now needs to find a husband for, and a new wife on top of everything else. They don't have 30 ryo to spare.

No matter how much merit Saigo has, no matter how much he wants to make a difference, he can't. Because he was born into poverty, because he can't afford to step away from the family land or else risk running out of food in the winter. His merit isn't enough. You need privilege. And he's already got privilege in that he wasn't born a farmer, that he has the personal attention of those in charge through connections and channels his family name permitted him, he's already jumped over hurdles others can't - and he still can't take advantage of his merit.

A merit based system benefits those who have and punishes the have nots. All the rich kids with rich parents who don't have to think twice about spending 30 ryo and have servants to take care of the elderly and young in their families. They can take every opportunity so the gap widens even further. Even worse, a merit based system tells the people born poor, born sick, born neurologically divergent, born into an abusive family, born into a historically disadvantaged race/gender/sexuality/etc, etc . . . that it's their fault they're not at the top. That if they just "tried harder" and had "more merit" they could make it. You too could be a billionaire if you just pulled on your bootstraps hard enough, and failure means you didn't try hard enough. And, yes, this is very much happening in our culture today.

That Edelgard didn't even consider something as huge as inequality before starting a war that would kill thousands really shocked me. Her support with Ferdinand exposed just how naive she is and how narrow-minded her world-view and experiences are. If she's going to sacrifice thousands of people for her supposedly better system, I wish she'd put at least some thought into it.

I do not expect a Fire Emblem game to get hyper-political or into nitty-gritty details. Honestly, I wish this support didn't exist. If their A-Support focused just on educational reform or even Ferdinand cementing himself as a actual check/rival to Edelgard, then I'd be more willing to believe she could make a good leader. But, for some reason, they decided to use this support to show how little Edelgard actually thought about her actions despite the dire consequences of them. These details aren't needed. These lines could be completely omitted and let the reader imagine Edegard has the political know-how to actually pull what she wants off. But instead the game went out of it's way to show she doesn't really have a single clue what she's talking about, and I cannot fathom why. This isn't even touching on her admitting it didn't even occur to her that her actions would leave a power vacuum and would need to fill it (like - what -), but that's for another day.

THIS is why I can't get behind Edelgard. Because her merit based system isn't worth all the lives she destroyed in her war. She thinks her ideas are worth everyone that dies, but her ideas aren't well thought out. This episode 8 of Segodon illustrated perfectly why Edelgard's system is a house of cards that will do nothing but pat the nobility and otherwise rich and privileged on the back while blaming farmers and otherwise disadvantaged for their continued poverty because "lack of merit."

I honestly can't express how badly I wish these lines in this support didn't exist. It serves no purpose except to expose Edelgard's lack of forethought and lack of understanding about the lives of the people she's claiming she's making better.

But, yeah, watching this episode just made me think about Edelgard's system and reminded me again of the exact moment I gave up on supporting her war.

(spoiler alert about Segodon: all those people he kept helping scrounge together 30 ryo so he can go to Edo and leaves the lands in charge of his younger brother, and yes, he's going to go down in history, but also . . . prepare for a downer ending if you actually watch this (I mean . . . it's the Bakumatsu). I already know I'm going to cry my fucking eyes out and I haven't even meant this version of Sakamoto Ryoma yet)

[thesimperiuscurse]

08.04

It’s The Kingston Legacy’s sixth anniversary, so here’s a throwback post to celebrate! Last month I forced myself to reread the entire legacy, and while I stopped, clicked off the tab, and emitted a soundless scream of pure cringe numerous times (I wish I was kidding)—the past generations are actually not as terrible as I remember. I think enough time has passed for me to detach myself from the childish storytelling and look back in nostalgia. 

Thank you to my fellow Wordpress writers who have come along the journey, some for many years now, through every high and low. It’s astounding how much has changed in the legacy from when I was 15, and 21. Follow me down the (very) long memory lane, as I reminiscence about each story and my perspective on them now ❤

Generation 1 — Fern (2015)

To my shock, I found myself genuinely enjoying Fern’s story. I think this was because the first generation was purely me commentating on gameplay, and not trying to write a story (that’s when the cringe began). I was inspired by one of the original stories, Alice and Kev, to make a homeless sim and document her struggle for a better life: Fern, a snobby aspiring writer. Reading this, a huge wave of nostalgia hit me, and it reminded me of how wonderful Sims 3 gameplay is. Although I’m long past it now, there’s real heart and life in the design. I think it speaks about the rich personalities and quirks that I could write a whole life story off it. It was super fun making Fern camp out at Old Pier Beach, stealing from townie picnics and roasting apples on the fire, finding little ways to scrounge money, giving her a makeover in the salon, watching the townie dramas unfold around her. Although she faced homelessness two times and a shitty first husband (yeah, fuck off, Xander), Fern grew into a strong and independent yet sweet and gentle character, in love with the ocean like her great-granddaughter comes to be.  

I never actually addressed this, but she (and her love Christopher) passed away in the story between the end of Gen 3 and start of Gen 4. It just felt weird to make it a big deal because they never died in game—still ‘alive’ and well, scattered across different backup saves and the bin.  

Generation 2 — Briar (2015)

Briar’s story was strange, because it was half gameplay and half story, which meant that there were things that just did not... make... sense. She was quite an ‘unreliable’ character to follow because of her Insane trait. The plot revolved around her as a fresh detective, investigating supernatural phenomena in Sunset Valley. Her character arc was almost the opposite to her mother’s: a naive, optimistic, silly girl hardening through trauma into a cold and ruthless police chief. Ash’s death was the one moment I felt true sadness in this legacy, because he did really die. Imagine me actually getting emotional over my characters, lmao. Wild. 

Also, Max is OP. To this day he is one of the best male characters in my legacy, a healthy and supportive best friend (to husband) in stark contrast to the following generation. 

Fallen Angels — Cherry (2016-2019)

Yes. It’s this generation. Square the fuck up, Cherry. I will fight her any day. Old readers will know of my pure hatred for this story. It’s been about two years since it thankfully ended. My verdict now?

It’s not quite as horrifically shitty, Gabriel and Lilith being a lot nicer than I remembered (Gabriel’s only a bit of a dick at the start), but it still has glaring problems, such as the pacing and clumsy handling of sensitive topics. The story would have been far nicer if it focused less on Cherry and Luc’s relationship and their respective issues, more on the found family and her relationship with Gabriel (which was rushed due to me despising the story by that point). During the first chapters, I was cringing spectacularly at the combination of Luc’s initial jackass behaviour and Cherry’s whining. Toxic as FUCK. I had to skip 3.8 and 3.9 entirely. These two (because of my own shameful mistake) tainted the generation in my eyes, and even though all of the characters grew from their toxicity, I can’t really see past that guilt to the better parts of the story. 

Jade has been telling me for years that this story isn’t all bad, and upon forcing myself to reread, I can see what you mean. I’m sorry LOL. Something that pleasantly surprised me was the writing quality (just the prose, not the actual story mechanics... lmfao), and Raphael, who made me smile every time he appeared. Every single careless, sarcastic line of his was a banger. The pictures are something else I like, too. Many of them stand up to the best ones in En Pointe—the fiery, gritty, industrial tones of Bridgeport just hits different. The world was rich and immersive, which is missing at the moment in En Pointe because of me being too lazy to build a proper Los Angeles world, but Act III is set in Boroughsburg so I’m excited to get back into the city scenes. 17 year old me wasn’t mature enough to tackle dark themes, but at least the visuals for them were nice, I guess. The atmosphere of the story I really enjoy. It’s just the toxic characters and way-too-angsty moments that ruin the whole thing for me. 

En Pointe — Evangeline (2019-)

And here we are now! The early chapters are kinda painful to read because 1) Mako looked so ugly and 2) the dialogue was so clumsy and generic. I sighed in relief when Chapter 5 came around, because it was then both of those aspects really began to improve. Eva’s voice was simple, with her punchy remarks, much less romantic and descriptive than Cherry, so it was interesting to see her voice becoming more complex and layered as I more understood her character. Also, me visibly struggling with the natural lighting and only getting a handle on it 7 chapters later has me shaking my head. 

I’m already beginning to identify issues with the story, mostly with character arcs and pacing. It’s a strange combination of fast pacing (spanning half a year in 8 chapters) and Eva becoming surprisingly comfortable with Mako’s touch due to their unusual pas de deux circumstances. It’s curious how real life time actually played into the pacing of the story—because of the slow publishing schedule, less time has passed in the story as real life, so it’s almost as if the time jumps were made up by real life time, making the jumps feel not too strange. Reading consecutively, however, Evako’s relationship growth doesn’t feel slow burn... a little underdeveloped, in a way, despite their lengthy conversations. I think that’s because of Mako being such a reserved and mysterious character, and that I’ve unconsciously come to rely on Tumblr to give more depth to the characters/relationships. Luckily, pretty much everyone who comments on the story also follows me here, so this dual-platform storytelling is okay, I suppose. I want to post more of #Mishako since there just isn’t enough time to explore their bromance in the story!

At the moment I’m not happy with the story, but it’s fine. I’m learning. There’s more than half the story to go, which means plenty of time to reflect upon the issues and improve. I’m really looking forward to Eva and Mako’s character arcs in Act III. At the moment their relationship is based on their natural chemistry and respect for each other, and since they are yet to face trials their bond isn’t super deep, but Evako are still my favourite couple in the legacy thus far, and feel much more real than any character I’ve written before. It’s been very interesting for my aro ass (and being way more logical than emotional) to figure out a dynamic that is actually compelling to me, because most of the time when I look at romance I’m just like 😐🤨 I’m liking it so far but we shall see how everything unfolds, because I have barely any idea what’s going to happen beyond Act II, lmfao. 

That’s it for my incredibly long throwback! I hope it was at least nice for the OG readers, and interesting for anyone else who managed to battle through this essay, haha. This family has been an integral part of me growing up, as a person and writer and artist (what I’ve developed in visuals I apply to architecture), learning a great deal of awareness about real life through story research, which is pretty cool now that I think about it. I’m aiming to finish En Pointe by the end of 2022. I’m excited for what unexpected changes are to come!

[philip-ks-dick]

Philip K. Dick, For Dummies.

I’ve been researching PK.D for a few years now, as he’s my father’s favourite author and I’ve been watching movie and show adaptations of his work for the longest time. I have personally only read the books listed, here’s the order (I think) you should read them in, based on difficulty level and the knowledge you need of the PKD canon to understand the books that follow. This is purely my opinion based on knowledge of the author. by philip-k’s-dick (lol)

Beginner. (These books and stories allow readers to explore Dick’s pet themes and stylistic quirks without falling too far down the rabbit hole)

The Short Stories: Over the course of his life, PKD wrote somewhere in the range of 150 short stories. Naturally, it would be silly of me to dump all of them on you at once, but undeniably, the shorter format allows the big ideas of Dick’s work to come through more clearly, and even the screwier stories conform to relatively coherent shape, making them an excellent jumping off point, especially for an author who wrote almost nonstop throughout his life.

My Favourites:

In The Days of Perky Pat - In this novel, survivors of a global thermonuclear war live in isolated enclaves in California, surviving off what they can scrounge from the wastes and supplies delivered from Mars. The older generation spend their leisure time playing with the eponymous doll in an escapist role-playing game that recalls life before the apocalypse — a way of life that is being quickly forgotten. At the story's climax, a couple from one isolated outpost of humanity plays a game against the dwellers of another outpost (who play the game with a doll similar to Perky Pat dubbed "Connie Companion") in deadly earnest. The survivors' shared enthusiasm for the Perky Pat doll and the creation of her accessories from vital supplies is a sort of mass delusion that prevents meaningful re-building of the shattered society. In stark contrast, the children of the survivors show absolutely no interest in the delusion and have begun adapting to their new life.

(Elements of the story were later incorporated into Dick's novel The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch, written in 1964 and published in 1965, in which a Perky Pat simulation game is induced by drugs and miniature models instead. Palmer Eldritch is not a continuation or sequel however.)

What the Dead Men Say - Death is followed by a period of 'half-life', a short amount of time which can be rationed out over long periods in which the dead can be revived—so that, potentially, they can 'live' on for a long time. When attempts to bring back important businessman Louis Sarapis fail, it's clearly more than mere negligence. Sure enough, Sarapis starts speaking from beyond the grave. From outer space, in fact. Yet no-one seems terribly bothered, other than those directly concerned in the plot mechanics. Eventually entire communications networks (phones, TV, radio) are blocked by Sarapis' broadcasts

(Philip's later novel Ubik is a continuation of What the Dead Men Say)

Autofac - Three men wait outside their settlement for an automated delivery truck. Five years earlier, during the Total Global Conflict, a network of hardened automatic factories ("autofacs") had been set up with cybernetic controls that determine what food and consumer goods to manufacture and deliver. Human input had been lost, and the men planned disruption to try to establish communication and take over control. They destroy the delivery, but the truck radios the autofac and unloads an identical replacement, then prevents them from reloading items. They act out being disgusted with the milk delivery and are given a complaints checklist. In a blank space, they write improvised semantic garble—"the product is thoroughly pizzled". The autofac sends a humanoid data collector that communicates on an oral basis, but is not capable of conceptual thought, and they are unable to persuade the network to shut down before it consumes all resources. Their next strategy sets neighbouring autofacs in competition with each other for rare resources and seemingly succeeds, but there is a hidden level

Beyond Lies The Wub - Peterson, a crew member of a spaceship loading up with food animals on Mars, buys an enormous pig-like creature known as a "wub" from a native just before departure. Franco, his captain, is worried about the extra weight but seems more concerned about its taste, as his ship is short of food. However, after takeoff, the crew realizes that the wub is a very intelligent creature, capable of telepathy and maybe even mind control.

Peterson and the wub spend time discussing mythological figures and the travels of Odysseus. Captain Franco, paranoid after an earlier confrontation with the Wub which left him temporarily paralyzed, bursts in and insists on killing and eating the wub. The crew becomes very much opposed to killing the sensitive creature after it makes a plea for understanding, but Franco still makes a meal out of him. At the dinner table, Captain Franco apologises for the "interruption" and resumes the earlier conversation between Peterson and the Wub - which now has apparently taken over the Captain's body

Human Is - Jill Herrick and her husband Lester are in the middle of an argument. Lester deflects his wife’s claim that he is “hideous” with cold indifference. He tells her that he will not allow their child in the house and will have him removed to government custody because he is interfering with his research. Before the distraught Jill can pass this onto their son Gus, Lester gets news that he will be taking a trip to Rexor IV. Despite Jill’s desire to go there and see the planet, Lester insists that he will go alone.

Later Jill tells her brother Frank and she is going to leave Lester. She explains how happy she has been with Lester gone and how he seems to be getting worse every year of their marriage. More cold and more “ruthless,” not to mention the incessant working.

Lester comes home a very different man. He praises Jill’s cooking and expresses disgust with his work on Rexor IV studying toxins. He says he prefers Terra and being home with his wife.

Jill reports these changes to Frank, while Lester is playing in the room with Gus. Frank has Lester brought to a lab for more studies under the guidance of the Federal Clearance agency. Before long they realize that Lester has had his body taken over by a Rexorian.

The Hanging Stranger - The protagonist, Ed Loyce, is a store owner who is disturbed when he sees a stranger hanging from a lamppost, but finds that other people consider the apparent lynching unremarkable.

He finds evidence that alien insects have taken over, manages to get out of town, talks to the police commissioner, who believes him, and after getting all the information about what Ed knows, explains that the body was hung to see if anyone reacted to it, anyone they didn't have control over. He then takes Ed outside and hangs him from a lamppost.

The Commuter - Ed Jacobson is a railway worker at Woking station. His life takes a turn for the worse when his son, Sam, begins experiencing psychotic episodes. When he is selling rail tickets at work, a young woman named Linda asks for a ticket to a destination called Macon Heights that is not listed on any map.

The Minority Report - In a future society, three mutants foresee all crime before it occurs. Plugged into a great machine, these "precogs" allow a division of the police called Precrime to arrest suspects before they can commit any actual crimes. When the head of Precrime, John Anderton, is himself predicted to murder a man whom he has never met, Anderton is convinced a great conspiracy is afoot

Full Books:

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? - Rick Deckard, a bounty hunter for the San Francisco Police Department, is assigned to "retire" (kill) six androids of the new and highly intelligent Nexus-6 model which have recently escaped from Mars and traveled to Earth. These androids are made of organic matter so similar to a human's that only a posthumous "bone marrow analysis" can independently prove the difference, making them almost impossible to distinguish from real people. Deckard hopes this mission will earn him enough bounty money to buy a live animal to replace his lone electric sheep to comfort his depressed wife Iran. Deckard visits the Rosen Association's headquarters in Seattle to confirm the accuracy of the latest empathy test meant to identify incognito androids. Deckard suspects the test may not be capable of distinguishing the latest Nexus-6 models from genuine human beings, and it appears to give a false positive on his host in Seattle, Rachael Rosen, meaning the police have potentially been executing human beings. The Rosen Association attempts to blackmail Deckard to get him to drop the case, but Deckard retests Rachael and determines that Rachael is, indeed, an android, which she ultimately admits.

Clans of the Alphane Moon - War between Earth and insectoid-dominated Alpha III ended over a decade ago. (According to the novel, "Alphane" refers to the nearest star to our own system, Alpha Centauri). Some years after the end of hostilities, Earth intends to secure its now independent colony in the Alphane system, Alpha III M2. As a former satellite-based global psychiatric institution for colonists on other Alphane system worlds unable to cope with the stresses of colonisation, the inhabitants of Alpha III M2 have lived peacefully for years. But, under the pretence of a medical mission, Earth intends to take their colony back.

Against this background, Chuck Rittersdorf and his wife Mary are separating. Although they think they are going their separate ways, they soon find themselves together again on Alpha III M2. Mary travels there through government work, Chuck sees it as a chance to kill Mary using his remote control simulacrum. Along the way he is guided by his Ganymedean slime mould neighbour Lord Running Clam and Mary finds herself manipulated by the Alphane sympathiser, comedian Bunny Hentman.

The Man in the High Castle - In 1962, 15 years after Imperial Japan and Nazi Germany have won World War II, Robert "Bob" Childan owns an Americana antique shop in San Francisco, California (located in the Japanese-occupied Pacific States of America), which is most commonly frequented by the Japanese, who make a fetish of romanticized American cultural artifacts. Childan is contacted by Nobusuke Tagomi, a high-ranking Japanese trade official, who is seeking a gift to impress a visiting Swedish industrialist named Baynes. Childan's store is stocked in part with counterfeit antiques from the Wyndam-Matson Corporation, a metalworking company. Frank Frink (formerly Fink), a secretly Jewish-American veteran of World War II, has just been fired from the Wyndam-Matson factory, when he agrees to join a former co-worker to begin a handcrafted jewellery business. Meanwhile, Frink's ex-wife, Juliana, works as a judo instructor in Canon City, Colorado (in the neutral buffer zone of Mountain States), where she begins a sexual relationship with an Italian truck driver and ex-soldier, Joe Cinnadella. Throughout the book, many of these characters frequently make important decisions using prophetic messages they interpret from the I Ching, a Chinese cultural import. Many characters are also reading a widely banned yet extremely popular new novel, The Grasshopper Lies Heavy, which depicts an alternate history in which the Allies won World War II in 1945, a concept that amazes and intrigues its readers.

Frink reveals that the Wyndam-Matson Corporation has been supplying Childan with counterfeit antiques, which works to blackmail Wyndam-Matson for money to finance Frink's new jewelry venture. Tagomi and Baynes meet, but Baynes repeatedly delays any real business as they await an expected third party from Japan. Suddenly, the public receives news of the death of the Chancellor of Germany, Martin Bormann, after a short illness. Childan tentatively, on consignment, takes some of Frink's "authentic" new metalwork and attempts to curry favour with a Japanese client, who surprisingly considers Frink's jewelry immensely spiritually alive. Juliana and Joe take a road trip to Denver, Colorado and Joe impulsively decides they should go on a side-trip to meet the mysterious Hawthorne Abendsen, author of The Grasshopper Lies Heavy, who supposedly lives in a guarded fortress-like estate called the "High Castle" in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Soon, Joseph Goebbels is announced as the new German Chancellor.

Intermediate. (These are the books to pick up once you have the basics of what makes a PKD novel down. They’re obtuse enough to hit a little heavier, but don’t provide the full dose of surrealism Dick was capable of serving up. This is also good spot to jump in if you’ve experienced weird fiction before.)

Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said - The novel is set in a dystopian version of 1988, following a Second Civil War which led to the collapse of the United States' democratic institutions. The National Guard ("nats") and US police force ("pols") reestablished social order through instituting a dictatorship, with a "Director" at the apex, and police marshals and generals as operational commanders in the field. Resistance to the regime is largely confined to university campuses, where radicalized former university students eke out a desperate existence in subterranean kibbutzim. Recreational drug use is widespread, and the age of consent has been lowered to twelve. The black population has almost been rendered extinct. Most commuting is undertaken by personal aircraft, allowing great distances to be covered in little time.

The novel begins with the protagonist, Jason Taverner, a singer, hosting his weekly TV show which has an audience of 30 million viewers. His special guest is his girlfriend Heather Hart, also a singer. Both Hart and Taverner are "Sixes", members of an elite class of genetically engineered humans. While leaving the studio, Taverner is telephoned by a former lover, who asks him to pay her a visit. When Taverner arrives at her apartment, the former lover attacks him by throwing a parasitic life-form at him. Although he manages to remove most of the life-form, parts of it are left inside him. After being rescued by Hart, he is taken to a medical facility.

Waking up the following day in a seedy hotel with no identification, Taverner becomes worried, as failure to produce identification at one of the numerous police checkpoints would lead to imprisonment in a forced labor camp. Through a succession of phone calls made from the hotel to colleagues and friends who now claim not to know him, Taverner establishes that he is no longer recognized by the outside world. He soon manages to bribe the hotel's clerk into taking him to Kathy Nelson, a forger of government documents. However, Kathy reveals that both she and the clerk are police informants, and that the lobby clerk has placed a microscopic tracking device on him. She promises not to turn Taverner over to the police on the condition that he spend the night with her. Although he attempts to escape, Kathy confronts him again after he has successfully passed a police checkpoint using the forged identity cards. Feeling in her debt, he accompanies Kathy to her apartment block, where Inspector McNulty, Kathy's police handler, is waiting. McNulty has located Taverner via the tracking device the hotel lobby clerk placed on him, and instructs Taverner to come with him to the 469th Precinct police station so that further biometric identity checks can be performed.

Time out of Joint - Ragle Gumm lives in the year 1959 in a quiet American suburb. His unusual profession consists of repeatedly winning the cash prize in a local newspaper contest called "Where Will The Little Green Man Be Next?". Gumm's 1959 has some differences from ours: the Tucker car is in production, AM/FM radios are scarce to non-existent, and Marilyn Monroe is a complete unknown. As the novel opens, strange things begin to happen to Gumm. A soft-drink stand disappears, replaced by a small slip of paper with the words "SOFT-DRINK STAND" printed on it in block letters. Intriguing little pieces of the real 1959 turn up: a magazine article on Marilyn Monroe, a telephone book with non-operational exchanges listed and radios hidden away in someone else's house. People with no apparent connection to Gumm, including military pilots using aircraft transceivers, refer to him by name. Few other characters notice these or experience similar anomalies; the sole exception is Gumm's supposed brother-in-law, Victor "Vic" Nielson, in whom he confides. A neighborhood woman, Mrs. Keitelbein, invites him to a civil defense class where he sees a model of a futuristic underground military factory. He has the unshakeable feeling he's been inside that building many times before.

Confusion gradually mounts for Gumm. His neighbor Bill Black knows far more about these events than he admits, and, observing this, begins worrying: "Suppose Ragle [Gumm] is becoming sane again?" In fact, Gumm does become sane, and the deception surrounding him (erected to protect and exploit him) begins to unravel

Ubik - By the year 1992, humanity has colonized the Moon and psychic powers are common. The protagonist, Joe Chip, is a debt-ridden technician working for Runciter Associates, a "prudence organization" employing "inertials"—people with the ability to negate the powers of telepaths and "precogs"—to enforce the privacy of clients. The company is run by Glen Runciter, assisted by his deceased wife Ella who is kept in a state of "half-life", a form of cryonic suspension that allows the deceased limited consciousness and ability to communicate. While consulting with Ella, Runciter discovers that her consciousness is being invaded by another half-lifer named Jory Miller

Difficult. (This section comes with a caveat: within these novels you will encounter numerous hallucinations, drug trips, an entire trilogy about gnostic spirituality and mental illness, and more than a little unabashed nightmare fuel. It’s normal to get tangled up in what goes on in these books. It’s also normal to be weirded out. But with proper grounding, you’ll make it though with your faculties intact. Probably.)

The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch - The story begins in a future world where global temperatures have risen so high that in most of the world it is unsafe to be outside without special cooling gear during daylight hours. In a desperate bid to preserve humanity and ease population burdens on Earth, the UN has initiated a "draft" for colonizing the nearby planets, where conditions are so horrific and primitive that the unwilling colonists have fallen prey to a form of escapism involving the use of an illegal drug (Can-D) in concert with "layouts." Layouts are physical props intended to simulate a sort of alternative reality where life is easier than either the grim existence of the colonists in their marginal off-world colonies, or even Earth, where global warming has progressed to the point that Antarctica is prime vacation resort territory. The illegal drug Can-D allows people to "share" their experience of the "Perky Pat" (the name of the main female character in the simulated world) layouts. This "sharing" has caused a pseudo-religious cult or series of cults to grow up around the layouts and the use of the drug.

Up to the point where the novel begins, New York City-based Perky Pat (or P.P.) Layouts, Inc., has held a monopoly on this product, as well as on the illegal trade in the drug Can-D which makes the shared hallucinations possible.

The novel opens shortly after Barney Mayerson, P.P. Layouts' top precog, has received a "draft notice" from the UN for involuntary resettlement as a colonist on Mars. Mayerson is sleeping with his assistant, Roni Fugate, but remains conflicted about the divorce, which he himself initiated, from his first wife Emily, a ceramic pot artist. Meanwhile, Emily's second husband tries to sell her pot designs to P.P. Layouts as possible accessories for the Perky Pat virtual worlds—but Barney, recognizing them as Emily's, rejects them out of spite.

A Scanner Darkly - When performing his work as an undercover agent, Arctor goes by the name "Fred" and wears a "scramble suit" that conceals his identity from other officers. Then he is able to sit in a police facility and observe his housemates through "holo-scanners", audio-visual surveillance devices that are placed throughout the house. Arctor's use of the drug causes the two hemispheres of his brain to function independently or "compete". When Arctor sees himself in the videos saved by the scanners, he does not realize that it is him. Through a series of drug and psychological tests, Arctor's superiors at work discover that his addiction has made him incapable of performing his job as a narcotics agent. They do not know his identity because he wears the scramble suit, but when his police supervisor suggests to him that he might be Bob Arctor, he is confused and thinks it cannot be possible.

Donna takes Arctor to "New-Path", a rehabilitation clinic, just as Arctor begins to experience the symptoms of Substance D withdrawal. It is revealed that Donna has been a narcotics agent all along, working as part of a police operation to infiltrate New-Path and determine its funding source. Without his knowledge, Arctor has been selected to penetrate the organization. As part of the rehab program, Arctor is renamed "Bruce" and forced to participate in cruel group-dynamic games, intended to break the will of the patients

(If this one seems difficult to wrap your mind around, that's because its a fictionalized account of real events, and you may need to read about Philip's life at the time to understand the autobiographical nature of the book.)

The VALIS Trilogy

(Fictionalized account of religious experiences in PKD’s life.)

VALIS - In March, 1974, Horselover Fat (the alter-personality of Philip K. Dick) experiences visions of a pink beam of light that he calls Zebra and interprets as a theophany exposing hidden facts about the reality of our universe, and a group of others join him in researching these matters. One of their theories is that there is some kind of alien space probe in orbit around Earth, and that it is aiding them in their quest; it also aided the United States in disclosing the Watergate scandal and the resignation of Richard Nixon in August, 1974. Kevin turns his friends onto a film called Valis that contains obvious references to revelations identical to those that Horselover Fat has experienced, including what appears to be time dysfunction. The film is itself a fictional account of an alternative-universe version of Nixon ("Ferris F. Fremount") and his fall, engineered by a satellite called valis. (The plot of the fictitious film Valis was that of Dick's then-unpublished novel Radio Free Albemuth.) In seeking the film's makers, Kevin, Phil, Fat, and David—now calling themselves the Rhipidon Society—head to an estate owned by popular musician Eric Lampton and his wife Linda. They decide the goal that they have been led toward is Sophia Lampton, who is two-years old and the Messiah or incarnation of Holy Wisdom (Pistis Sophia) anticipated by some variants of Gnostic Christianity. In addition to healing Phil's schizophrenic personality split, she tells them that their conclusions about valis (which Fat had previously termed "Zebra") and reality are correct, and more importantly, that we should worship, not gods, but humanity. She dies two days later due to a laser accident caused by Brent Mini. Undeterred, Fat (who has now resurged) goes on a global search for the next incarnation of Sophia.

Dick also offers a rationalist explanation of his apparent theophany, acknowledging that it might have been visual and auditory hallucinations from either schizophrenia or drug addiction sequelae.

Characters:

Phil (Philip K. Dick): Narrator (first person), science fiction writer, author of Man in the High Castle, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, and Three Stigmata.

Horselover Fat: Narrator (third person), a schizophrenic modality of Phil himself. (Philip in Greek means "fond of horses"; dick is German for "fat".)

Gloria Knudson: Suicidal friend of Fat's who Fat is unable to save.

Kevin: Cynical friend of Fat's whose cat died running across the street, based on K. W. Jeter.

Sherri Solvig: Church-going friend of Fat's, eventually dies from lymphatic cancer.

David: Catholic friend of Fat's, based on Tim Powers.

Eric Lampton: Rock star, screenwriter, actor, a. k. a. "Mother Goose"; a fictionalised version of David Bowie.

Linda Lampton: Actress, wife of Eric Lampton.

Brent Mini: Electronic composer, a fictionalised version of Brian Eno.

Sophia Lampton: Two-year-old child (personalised incarnation of Holy Wisdom within some variants of Gnosticism), said to be the daughter of Linda Lampton and valis and the "Fifth Savior".

The Divine Invasion - After a fatal car accident on Earth, Herb Asher is placed into cryonic suspension as he waits for a spleen replacement. Clinically dead, Herb experiences lucid dreams while in suspended animation and relives the last six years of his life.

In the past, Herb lived as a recluse in an isolated dome on a remote planet in the binary star system, CY30-CY30B. Yah, a local divinity of the planet in exile from Earth, appears to Herb in a vision as a burning flame, and forces him to contact his sick female neighbor, Rybys Rommey, who happens to be terminally ill with multiple sclerosis and pregnant with Yah's child.

With the help of the immortal soul of Elijah, who takes the form of a wild beggar named Elias Tate, Herb agrees to become Rybys's legal husband and father of the unborn "savior". Together they plan to smuggle the six-month pregnant Rybys back to Earth, under the pretext of seeking help for Rybys' medical condition at a medical research facility. After being born in human form, Yah plans to confront the fallen angel Belial, who has ruled the Earth for 2000 years since the fall of Masada in the first century CE. Yah's powers, however, are limited by Belial's dominion on Earth, and the four of them must take extra precautions to avoid being detected by the forces of darkness.

Things do not go as planned. "Big Noodle", Earth's A.I. system, warns the ecclesiastical authorities in the Christian-Islamic church and Scientific Legate about the divine "invasion" and countermeasures are prepared. A number of failed attempts are made to destroy the unborn child, all of them thwarted by Elijah and Yah. After successfully making the interstellar journey back to Earth and narrowly avoiding a forced abortion, Rybys and Herb escape in the nick of time, only to be involved in a fatal taxi crash, probably due to the machinations of Belial. Rybys dies from her injuries sustained in the crash, and her unborn son Emmanuel (Yah in human form) suffers brain damage from the trauma but survives. Herb is critically injured and put into cryonic suspension until a spleen replacement can be found. Baby Emmanuel is placed into a synthetic womb, but Elias Tate manages to sneak Emmanuel out of the hospital before the church is able to kill him.

Six years pass. In a school for special children, Emmanuel meets Zina, a girl who also seems to have similar skills and talents, but acts as a surrogate teacher to Emmanuel. For four years, Zina helps Emmanuel regain his memory (the brain damage caused amnesia) and discover his true identity as Yah, creator of the universe.

When he's ready, Zina shows Emmanuel her own parallel universe. In this peaceful world, organized religion has little influence, Rybys Rommey is still alive and married to Herb Asher, and Belial is only a goat kid living in a petting zoo.

In an act of kindness, Zina and Emmanuel liberate the goat-creature from his cage, momentarily forgetting that the animal is Belial. The goat-creature finds Herb Asher and attempts to retain control of the world by possessing him and convincing him that Yahweh's creation is an ugly thing that should be shown for what it really is. Eventually Herb is saved by Linda Fox, a young singer whom he loves and who is his own personal Savior; she and the goat-creature meet and she kills it, defeating Belial. He finally discovers that this meeting happens over again for everyone in the world, and whether they choose Belial or their Savior decides if they find salvation.

Characters:

Herb Asher: audio engineer

Rybys Rommey: mother of Emmanuel, sick with MS

Yah: Yahweh

Elias Tate: Incarnation of Elijah

Emmanuel (Manny): Yah incarnated in human form

Zina Pallas: Shekhinah

Linda Fox: singer, songwriter, Yetzer Hatov

Belial: Yetzer Hara

Fulton Statler Harms: Chief prelate of the Christian-Islamic Church (C.I.C), Cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church

Nicholas Bulkowsky: Communist Party Chairman, Procurator maximus of the Scientific Legate

VALIS: agent of Yahweh, disinhibiting stimulus

The Transmigration of Timothy Archer - Set in the late 1960s and 1970s, the story describes the efforts of Episcopal Bishop Timothy Archer, who must cope with the theological and philosophical implications of the newly discovered Gnostic Zadokite scroll fragments. The character of Bishop Archer is loosely based on the controversial, iconoclastic Episcopal Bishop James Pike, who in 1969 died of exposure while exploring the Judean Desert near the Dead Sea in the West Bank.

As the novel opens, it is 1980. On the day that John Lennon is shot and killed, Angel Archer visits the houseboat of Edgar Barefoot, (a guru based on Alan Watts), and reflects on the lives of her deceased relatives. During the sixties, she was married to Jeff Archer, son of the Episcopal Bishop of California Timothy Archer. She introduced Kirsten Lundborg, a friend, to her father-in law, and the two began an affair. Kirsten has a son, Bill, from a previous relationship, who has schizophrenia, although he is knowledgeable as an automobile mechanic. Tim is already being investigated for his allegedly heretical views about the Holy Ghost.

Jeff commits suicide due to his romantic obsession with Kirsten. However, after poltergeist activity, he manifests to Tim and Kirsten at a seance, also attended by Angel. Angel is skeptical about the efficacy of astrology, and believes that the unfolding existential situation of Tim and Kirsten is akin to Friedrich Schiller's German Romanticism era masterpiece, the Wallenstein trilogy (insofar as their credulity reflects the loss of rational belief in contemporary consensual reality).

The three are told that Kirsten and Tim will die. As predicted, Kirsten loses her remission from cancer, and also commits suicide after a barbiturate overdose. Tim travels to Israel to investigate whether or not a psychotropic mushroom was associated with the resurrection, but his car stalls, he becomes disoriented, falls from a cliff, and dies in the desert.

On the houseboat, Angel is reunited with Bill, Kirsten's son who has schizophrenia. He claims to have Tim's reincarnated spirit within him, but is soon institutionalized. Angel agrees to care for Bill, in return for a rare record (Koto Music by Kimio Eto) that Edgar offers her.

The Transmigration of Timothy Archer is one of Dick's most overtly philosophical and intellectual works. While Dick's novels usually employ multiple narrators or an omniscient perspective, this story is told in the first person by a single narrator: Angel Archer, Bishop Archer's daughter-in-law.

Characters:

Angel Archer: Narrator, manager of a Berkeley record store, widow of Jeff Archer.

Timothy Archer: Bishop of California; father of the late Jeff Archer and father-in-law of Angel. Dies in Israel, searching for psychotropic mushroom connected with Zadokite sect. Based on James Albert Pike, Dick's personal friend, who was an American Episcopalian bishop.

Kirsten Lundborg: Timothy Archer's secretary and lover. Dies from barbiturate overdose after loss of remission from cancer.

Bill Lundborg: Kirsten's son who has schizophrenia, and who is obsessed with cars.

Edgar Barefoot: Houseboat guru, radio personality, lecturer. Based on Alan Watts.

Jeff Archer: Son of Timothy Archer, and deceased husband of Angel. A professional student who was romantically obsessed with Kirsten.

Thank you, if you read all of this. it took me six hours today to write this all 

[the-demelza-robins]

never understood you before (but i do now) part vi

guess who’s back!! and with the final chapter!! sorry for the wait, and hope you enjoy!

you can also read this on ao3

THANKSGIVING BREAK PASSES in a flurry of turkey, potatoes, and disapproving glances (courtesy of Petunia). When it finally comes to an end, standing next to her parents and waving halfheartedly at Vernon’s car as it backs out of the driveway, all Lily feels is relief.

The moment is short lived. “Lily, dishes,” Laurel says, more of a statement than a question. Lily sighs and walks back into the kitchen. She’s about ten minutes into the seemingly endless pile of plates and tupperware before her mother joins her.

“What did you think of Vernon?” Laurel asks, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. Lily pauses, faucet still running. She calculates. Honesty is not the solution here, but neither is an outright lie.

She settles on saying “I think they’re a good match” while sponging the pan she’s washing a little too aggressively.

Laurel hums. “Petunia’s always been more — conscientious of the future. It’s one of my favorite things about her. She plans and she plans and she plans.”

She’s planning with Vernon, Lily translates. Her future is safe with Vernon.

“I think there are some things you can’t plan,” Laurel continues, smiling slightly. “Your father and I… never in my wildest dreams would I have predicted marrying him. I just — I just worry for Petunia, that she won’t be able to experience that.”

Silence, except for the faucet.

Lily clears her throat. She wishes she could respond I worry for Petunia, too, but the fact is that she and Petunia have never been close, not since they were children, not since — well, not since Severus. In the dim recesses of her mind, Lily can scrounge up some happy memories of her sister — shared Halloween costumes, Petunia’s protective stance on the playground — but they’re both rare and fleeting. Petunia is Petunia, and Lily is Lily, and the former will forever disapprove of the latter in the way that only sisters can. She can’t vocalize this truth, though — even if her mother already knows. Instead: “I think Petunia doesn’t want anything to be unpredictable. I think she’d hate falling in love with someone unexpected.”

Laurel nods, standing up a little straighter. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’ve been branching out this year. I know you don’t tell me everything, but the Parents’ Association moms are very chatty. I never would have imagined you with Roger Davies, that’s all. I was surprised.”

Lily knows that she’s started to blush, but she can’t stop. She and her mother never talk about these things. “I really don’t think I’m in love with Roger, if that’s what you’re getting at, Mom,” she says, thinking of the last time she really spoke with him. The last yearbook meeting, maybe? Anything they’d had had fizzled out after that first date, after she’d somewhat clumsily executed a slow fade. “I haven’t even spoken to him recently.”

“Well, I guess I’m behind the times. Want to catch me up? Anything going on lately?”

“No,” she says, more forcefully. “Nothing.” Inexplicably, Lily pictures James, sitting on the kitchen counter just days ago. She pushes the thought down — she must have had too much wine at dinner, to be randomly thinking about him like this.

“Just checking,” Laurel says, a glint in her eye that Lily can’t interpret and feels vaguely threatened by. “I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow morning.”

“Love you,” Lily calls automatically, already back to the soapy water, her mother’s words echoing in her head. You’ve been branching out lately. Had she, really? Yes, she’d spoken to Roger. Become friends with James. She supposed she had more people to say hello to in the halls now, but that was really just because of her position as head of the yearbook. The fact was, she still felt like the same old Lily, truly open to only a few people, closed off to the rest of the world behind a veil of awkwardness and, at times, imposter syndrome. Her thoughts pull towards James again: how comfortable she feels in his presence, how easy it is to do away with the layers of caution that seem to smother her other social interactions. She shakes her head, turns the water off, examines the now clean kitchen. No more thinking of James Potter, she tells herself firmly. The thought echoes through her head as she gets ready for bed, self defeating by nature.

***   Marlene comes back from Thanksgiving break with a new friendship. She and Remus, she explains, had been volunteering at the same soup kitchen over break. Long hours ladling soup and tearing off bread had created (by Marlene’s telling) an unbreakable bond. “All of this is to say,” she says now as she swerves past a mailbox, Lily hanging on for dear life in the passenger seat of her friend’s car, “that Remus invited me over to watch a movie at James’s on Friday. It’s so funny how they — all four of them, you know — just invite people over to each other’s houses. Squad goals? Anyway, he said the invite was for me, you, whoever else. Dorcas has those damned violin recitals, but hopefully we’ll be able to spring her free — watch it! —” (a pigeon had dared hop into the road, and flew away hastily) “— and Alice and James and Sirius and Peter too.”

“Oh,” Lily says.

Marlene shoots her a look. “I thought it was a wonderful idea, seeing as you've started to become completely platonic, innocent friends with James Potter —”

“— every day, I regret telling you about Halloween more and more —”

“— and there’s nothing like a movie on a Friday night to solidify a friendship, is there, Lily?” Marlene smirks, and Lily can do nothing but silently fume as they pull into the high school parking lot. “Come on. You know it’ll be a good time.”

“I do, and I hate you for it,” Lily grumbles, getting out of the car. “And, for the last time, there’s nothing going on with James. Stop smirking.”

“Speak of the devil,” her friend says in lieu of a response, motioning to where James is approaching them from across the parking lot. For a second, all Lily can do is stare. He looks tanner, she thinks, briefly, before dismissing the thought; he didn’t even travel over the break. She must be seeing things.

He stops in front of them, holding onto his backpack straps and squinting against the sun. “Just the girls I was hoping to run into.”

“Oh?” Lily asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder and glancing up at him before she loses the nerve. Just James. Just a slightly tanner James. Nothing you haven’t seen before.

“For the movie on Friday: Peter and I want to watch Jaws and Sirius and Remus want to watch Love, Actually. Thoughts?”

Lily finds herself sputtering, “But — I barely just agreed to go, how did you —”

Marlene’s dangerously close to smirking again. “I may or may not have told James you’d be a sure thing,” she says, not noticing (or not caring) about James’s hair, or his tan, or the way his biceps flexed slightly when he ran a hand through his hair. How could someone not care about those things? “Have a nice break, Potter?”

“Perfectly fine. Did you like the flowers, Lily?”

Marlene shoots her an incredulous look, and Lily doesn’t know who she wants to murder first. “My mom really appreciated them. Tell your mom she said thanks.”

He pouts. It makes his mouth look — good. Shut up. She knows what it’s like to kiss him. Shut up. To feel his lips on her skin, on her neck, against her pulse point. Shut up.

“— game on Friday,” James is saying, and Lily’s not listening, but it doesn’t matter, because now he’s talking to Marlene. Lily trails behind them, watching as her fellow students move aside to let him pass through the parking lot, through the school entrance, through locker-lined hallways.

“— coming, Evans?” he asks, snapping her out of her stupor. They’re standing outside what she belatedly recognizes to be the math classroom, Marlene long gone.

She blinks once, twice. He raps her temple gently, that teasing glint in his eye again. “Lily?”

She’s so stunned by the fact that he’s touching her — granted, his knuckles are touching the side of her head, not a particularly romantic gesture — that for a second, she can only stand there, scrambling for some excuse, something to fill the suddenly heavy air between them.

Before she can come up with a suitable response, Gretchen Prewett shoulders between them to step into the classroom, breaking their contact and bumping into Lily a harder than strictly necessary. And that’s when Lily remembers — James and Gretchen. Gretchen and James. Gretchen with her curly blonde hair, her brown eyes, and her kindness, her infallible goodness, ever since kindergarten when she offered Lily a turn on the swings — Gretchen ensconced in James’s embrace after the soccer game, Gretchen whispering in his ear at the Halloween party, Gretchen with her arms around his waist at that one house party at the start of the year….

“Lily?” James repeats, this time with more concern. “You okay?”

She blinks again, suddenly unable to make eye contact. “Um, yeah.”

“Thought I lost you for a second there,” he says. “Shall we?”

He steps through the classroom door, and all Lily can do is follow.

***

That night, Lily sits on her bed, calculus notes spread around her, and texts the group chat.

i don’t think i can do this movie night thing on Friday

She exhales, the lie settling in her brain. She adds: something came up

Marlene responds almost immediately.

Marlene: was that something the realization that ur so desperately attracted to james samuel potter, you can’t be in the same room without wanting a repeat performance of halloween night?

Dorcas: i don’t think james’s middle name is samuel

Marlene: semantics

Dorcas: you don’t have to go lily

Marlene: oh yes you do

Lily: his middle name is Fleamont after his dad

Marlene: …

Marlene: why would you ever know that if you didn’t want to submit to the sexual tension that seems to follow you both EVERYWHERE

Lily: i’m a normal person who pays attention to things, that’s how i know his middle name!!!

Lily: and we do NOT have sexual tension

Marlene: pish

Marlene: i saw the way you were looking at him in the parking lot today

Marlene: you were feasting ur eyes

Alice: i wasn’t there but i believe marlene

Marlene: it’s okay tho because he was checking you out too

Lily’s blushing uncontrollably now. She’s always loved Marlene’s relentless determination, her stubbornness; however, it’s almost never been turned on her. What makes her friend’s insistence all the more infuriating is the fact that she’s right. Lily is plagued by flashbacks to Halloween night whenever she’s close to James. She can’t help, really, but admire how smooth his jawline is, or the shape of his collarbone, or the curve of his biceps, which sometimes show, depending on what shirt he’s wearing —

Even his once-annoying habit of constantly messing with his hair has grown on her, if only because she knows what it feels like to run her fingers through it, and wants desperately to repeat the experience.

Lily: okay even if i were a smidgen attracted to him it doesn’t matter because i completely forgot that he had a thing with gretchen

Alice: omg gretchen

Marlene: i thought they were just hooking up???

Lily: idk but she was really aggressive to me today right after i spoke to him

Marlene: huh i didn’t think she had it in her

Alice: go gretchen honestly

Alice: it’s about time she developed some backbone

Dorcas: yeah not with lily tho???

Lily: i don’t want to be a homewrecker

Marlene: you are literally so dramatic

Marlene: just ask James where he’s at with Gretchen

Marlene: on Friday.

Marlene: when you’ll be at the movie night, because you’re coming with us, because i’m picking you up at seven

Marlene: :)

***

At 7:05 on Friday night, Marlene pulls into Lily’s driveway.

“Surprisingly punctual,” Lily comments as she slides into the passenger’s seat, the familiar hum of the engine calming her nerves slightly. There’s a bitter chill to the air, to be expected in early December, and she wraps her coat around herself more tightly.

Marlene shrugs. “I do what I can.”

Then she floors it. All too soon, Lily finds herself standing in front of James’s door, hand hovering over the doorbell. “Is this really —”

Marlene rolls her eyes and jams her finger against the bell. “Yes. It’s really necessary. Talk to him and then ride off into the sunset together.”

Just then, the door swings open, and there he is: hair wet from a post-game shower, wearing a shirt that brings out the green in his eyes — eyes that flick up and down, taking her in, so quickly she almost could’ve missed it.

“Lily, you look great,” he says, then clears his throat. “Um, we’re downstairs. Movie’s about to start.” For the first time, he seems to notice the girl standing beside her. “Hi, Marlene.”

Marlene whistles lowly as they head downstairs, and Lily prods her with her elbow, cognizant of the fact that her cheeks are turning more and more red. She tries to take her mind off of James by focusing on her surroundings; she hasn’t been in his house since elementary school, when it was common procedure to invite the whole class to every birthday party. It’s nice — that’s no surprise, considering his family’s considerable wealth — and looks fairly lived in. As she and Marlene step into the basement, fully finished with a giant television and an assortment of comfy chairs and couches, Lily begins to regain her composure.

Sirius and Remus are cuddled up on one end of the couch, with Alice and Dorcas sitting on the floor in front of them, flipping back and forth between Jaws and Love, Actually. Marlene immediately walks over to Remus, and Lily trails behind, dismayed to hear that the two have already begun talking about a class that she doesn’t share. She turns towards Alice and Dorcas, but is stopped by the prickle at the edge of her vision — some subconscious mechanism alerting her to the fact that she’s being watched. Sure enough, Sirius Black is staring at her, eyebrows raised. The almost challenging expression is new to Lily; the Sirius she’s always known has been laid back, easygoing.

That is, before she accused him of trying to take advantage of her best friend on Halloween night. She cringes internally at the memory; she won’t apologize for worrying about her friend, but perhaps she had jumped to conclusions a bit too quickly. She clears her throat and veers towards him, steeling herself.

“Lily.” Sirius inclines his head ever so slightly, watching as she perches awkwardly on the couch’s arm.

“Sirius. I, um, probably should apologize for Halloween night.”

“What part?” he says, and something’s wrong, here, she thinks. “The part when you accused me of taking advantage of Marlene, or the part when you stuck your tongue down my best friend’s throat, then abandoned him?”

She’s so floored she almost falls off the couch. He’s speaking quietly, tone monotone, and if she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought he was bored by the whole thing. But his gaze hasn’t moved from her face, and she realizes for the first time that Sirius Black, while angry, is worthy of fear.

“I — well — I’m sorry for assuming your intentions with Marlene. I didn’t know you —” she looks towards Remus, still chatting away obliviously with her friend “— I didn’t know you were in a relationship, and I overreacted. As for the James stuff, I — I really don’t know what to say. I thought he just wanted to be friends.”

“Yes, when Remus kissed me for the first time, my first thought was, ‘Oh, I bet he just wants to be friends,’” Sirius mutters acridly, but his expression has softened slightly, and Lily allows herself to relax, just a little bit. “Jesus Christ. This is worse than I thought.” “What is worse?” Lily asks, feeling strangely defensive. “James and I —”

“James has had a crush on you since seventh grade, Lily,” Sirius all but hisses. “It’s so incredibly obvious, I never even considered you didn’t know. I thought you were —”

“Some manipulative bitch stringing him along?” Lily finishes, arching an eyebrow at him, hoping she can disguise the shock reverberating through her. Since seventh grade.

“You’re kind of scary, Lily Evans,” Sirius says drily. “And sharp. Emotionally aware or some shit. It’s intimidating. The poor fool was just happy to have time with you, even if you thought that him fucking kissing you was an expression of platonic friendship — ”

“That’s not — I’m not — I — he was with Gretchen!”

Sirius scoffs. “I can’t explain all his choices. But they were never together, never officially. Gretchen was hooking up with Michael Goldstein at the same time. She can get kind of territorial. I told him not to get mixed up in it, but he was so hung up on — well.” He pauses. “I’ve said too much.” His tone is not apologetic or regretful in the slightest; in fact, Lily can see the beginnings of a smirk on his face. She doesn’t focus on it for too long, though; there’s too much to process. For the first time, the possibility of James — of really being with him, of holding his hand, of FaceTiming with him late into the night, of walking down the hallways together — cements in her head. Her head swims, imagining the potential of it all. “Where’s James?”

“Getting drinks upstairs,” Sirius says, eying her with suspicion. “Why?” “I think he and I need to have a talk.”

***

Lily finds James in the kitchen on the main floor, trying and failing to carry seven beer cans at the same time. When he sees her, they come crashing to the floor, and before she knows what she’s doing, she’s helping him pick them up, avoiding eye contact.

“What are you doing up here? Is something wrong?” James asks once the cans have been dealt with.

She leans against the kitchen island, wiping her palms on the sides of her jeans. His gaze follows the motion before he blinks and makes eye contact again, clearing his throat. Waiting for her to speak.

So she does: “Nothing’s wrong. I just — I wanted to ask you about someone.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Really? Who? Sorry. Whom.”

Lily can’t help but roll her eyes, his impeccable grammar relaxing her nerves. “Whom? Really, James?”

He scoffs and shakes his head, but there’s no real heat to it. “Only the best for my yearbook editor.” He’s leaning against the wall opposite her, hands in his pockets. When he looks back at her, the air feels like honey: thick and slow-moving, sweet. She’s never had someone look at her like that before. Her heart speeds up. Get back on track, Lily.

“Right. Uh, anyway. I was thinking about Halloween —”

There it is, again. That look. Followed by a brief glance at her mouth — he’s quick, but she’s attuned to his every movement, now — before his eyes flick back up to her face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I realized that I completely forgot about Gretchen.”

James breaks eye contact. “What about her?”

One deep breath, then two. “Well. Were you seeing her? Was I — helping you cheat, or —”

“God, no,” he says. “Lily, I would never — we weren’t exclusive, or together, and she was mostly using me to make Michael Goldstein jealous, anyway.”

“Oh.”

He clears his throat again, runs a hand through his hair. It’s dry, now, and looks impossibly soft. Lily’s fingers clench automatically.

“Well,” she says, heart pounding. She senses she’s very close to something, something big; it’s like she’s standing on the edge of a cliff, crystal-clear water below, and she’s terrified of how deep she might fall. No matter that jumping off that cliff is what she’s been wanting to do for months now. No matter that jumping off that cliff might simply mean closing the two feet of separation between her and the boy she so desperately wants. “See you downstairs, then.”

***

Lily bolts.

There’s no other word for it; she walks out of the kitchen as fast as she can, pretending not to hear James calling her name. She knows she’s a coward. She knows that if she’d crossed that final threshold, if she’d turned back around, if she’d stayed, her life might look very different. But she can’t do it.

The fact of the matter is, Lily Evans has been Lily Evans, undesirable, longer than she has been Lily Evans, as-crushed-on-by-James-Potter-since-the-fucking-seventh-grade. She needs to let the notion sink under her skin. She’s out of first moves; she’s out of soul-searing confidence. She asked about Gretchen. It was a baby step. Now she can go downstairs and watch the fucking movie, and bear the brunt of Marlene’s disappointment, and fall asleep fantasizing about James’s lips and hands and body instead of experiencing the real thing. It’s fine. It’s what she’s used to doing, and so far, she’s done perfectly well.

It’s not that she doesn’t like James; no, the opposite holds true. She very much likes James, to an extent that is unfamiliar and sticky and all too attainable. James Potter — the disco ball that’s sharp around the edges, except lately it seems as if they’ve both been childproofing the jagged parts, making them soft and round and welcoming. She doesn’t know how this works, how to navigate a minefield that’s been disarmed and paved over.

Besides, she thinks as she begins to walk down the stairs to the basement, how is she supposed to hold up to the idealized version of herself that must have been growing, festering, in James’s head for the past five years? Lily, who’s only kissed three people, and never done more; Lily, who doesn’t know how to be in a relationship, especially one with one of the school’s most visible students; Lily, who, despite all her newfound confidence, still can’t wrap her head around the idea that James would like her. Would want her. Would —

“Lily?”

Instinctively, her head snaps towards the voice’s source. It’s James, of course it is. He stands at the top of the stairs, the soft glow of the overhead light making him look practically angelic. She nods at him.

“Can I join you?”

“Yes.”

He walks until he’s standing on a step two feet away from her. The trek down to the basement involves two flights of stairs, with a landing in between; on the first staircase, therefore, she and James are hidden from the basement’s occupants, from outside influence, from the world.

“What is it?” she asks, going for unbothered and confident and failing miserably. She can’t meet his eyes.

“I was just wondering — now that we’ve, um, cleared up the Gretchen thing — well, the thing is,” he says, running a hand through his hair and smiling apologetically, “I’m, um, rambling. Sorry. Um, what I’m trying to say is that I’ve really enjoyed being your friend over the past few months. But — and it’s only fair you should know — I’ve really, really liked you for the past few years. God, that makes me sound creepy. It’s not that, I swear. I just — you’re so — so poised and kind and sharp. I always, well, I always thought you were too mature for me, too smart. You — you really don’t suffer fools, Lily, and I am one, but, well, in spite of that — in spite of everything — will you go out with me?”

She looks up at him, eyes wide, heart beating wildly. “You are a fool, James,” she whispers, words almost catching in her throat, because there it is. He’s just given the final confirmation, the truth: that he, James Potter, likes her. Wants her. Wants to be with her. She can’t stop — fuck, she keeps remembering Halloween. His hands on her skin. “I — you’re a complete fool, and you’re also ridiculously charming and intelligent and social in a way I can’t fathom, and I respect you. I really do.”

James’s face falls. “Right. Well, I’m glad you respect me, and I’ll just — I’ll just go now, I guess —”

“I don’t want you to go,” she bursts out. This conversation is getting out of her control (when had it ever been in her control?), the words slipping away from her. You can’t do first moves, grand proclamations, the voice in her head whispers snidely, but she ignores it. “I want you to stay. I respect you, and I like you, and I want to be with you. See?”

It’s his turn to look gobsmacked. “Oh. As friends, or —”

She pounces on him. There’s no other word for it, not really; she reaches the staircase step below his, and then she guides his mouth down to hers, hands around the back of his neck, back arching under his. If she stands on her tiptoes she can make the angle better, and… there. Something like a sigh falls from James’s mouth. His hands wind through her hair, glasses bumping slightly against her forehead. It’s not a perfect kiss. But it does accomplish the most important thing, for James Potter, jagged around the edges, and Lily Evans, sharp to the touch, have changed.

Both are now soft, malleable, in each others’ arms.