#(He did end up with one of the 'experiment' plates with said elixir before the incident in 'Recipe')

[kyuohki]

resh'an/Aephorul

5, 6, 10, and 12.

5) who does more of the housework?

Aephorul, hands down. Before and during the early years of their immortality, he was constantly picking up after Resh'an's absentminded mess. He also tried to implement helpful tasks and aids to get Resh'an to keep his stuff neater; it would work for about a week or so, then it'd get messy again.

Resh'an was always willing to pitch in to help when he noticed Aephorul doing chores, but if he wasn't monitored during the task, he would get derailed fairly easily.

.

6) who forgets their anniversary?

Resh'an. He always has something big gift or something prepared for Aephorul, he just loses track of the days when working. Aephorul doesn't make a big deal of it, just a little teasing.

.

10) who usually makes dinner?

Surprisingly Resh'an, though they both try to keep it as even as possible. Resh'an's meals are more thorough (seasoned, has *lots* of recipes, etc), while Aephorul tends to throw things together just to get the chore done with.

Resh'an has a love of spicy food (as in nuclear levels), while Aephorul can only tolerate so much before tapping out. When he cooked spicy dishes, Resh'an usually had to make a more mild ver. of a dish for his love, which irritated Aephorul at first until he insisted on having the same thing and realized that it would be the death of him.

.

12) who hogs the bathroom?

Aephorul. As fancy as Resh'an is, he has getting his elaborate outfits on down to a science, and doesn't have many toiletries (has good skin/hair so needs very little). Aephorul, while his style looks simplistic, has to do a lot to make it look effortless. It gets worse when he wants to show off. All the hair/skin care, shampoo/soaps/oils, and tools to get it done. Resh'an didn't mind, bc he gets to ogle Aephorul while he primps.

[dumbchickwrites]

the end of the rainbow 🌈 — part 6

Pairings: Sam Wilson x OC! Iris Fury

Warnings: mentions of smut, plot within the plot ~ a subplot, if you will.

Words: 2257.

Summary: Former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Iris Fury, daughter of Nick Fury, is called by her father to assist the Avengers while agent Romanoff recovers from a few wounds. A certain Falcon catches her eye. Follow Iris and Sam as they take a walk on the rainbow and eventually find out what hides at the end of that beautiful path.

A/N: sorry, no keep reading tag since I’m on mobile. no, I haven’t forgotten about your requests! they’re coming, I promise! also, I got carried away lol, this part and the next will pretty much be an Avengers movie🤷🏾‍♀️

Please comment and reblog if you enjoy! <3

***

One last time, she thought, staring at her reflection in the mirror. One last time then she'd tell him the truth, and it will be over.

Sam wanted to have that romantic dinner tonight, since it was Iris' actual birthday. She couldn't say no to him when he asked her on their first official date. Not when he looked at her, smile bright and eyes soft with adoration. So she said yes.

He was already waiting for her at his flat in the city. He'd left the compound in the early afternoon to get everything ready up there. Now it was almost time for Iris to join him.

A car was waiting for her outside. It would drive her there on autopilot then come back to the compound. She made her way down the stairs discreetly, careful not to step into a member of the team. She couldn't handle their disapproving gazes anymore.

New York City, as always, was buzzing with lights and excitement as the car made its way through the packed streets. Iris found herself growing more and more nervous as the car approached the red dot on the map. How should she tell him? When? How would he react? Or maybe she should just... leave?

A sigh fell off her lips as she laid her head back on the headrest.

She never should have agreed to come back to the US in the first place. Now she had a lover on one side of the Atlantic ocean, and a family on the other. Selfish and cruel. That was what she was. Not sparing a thought to the people she hurt.

"You have arrived to your destination."

The voice snapped Iris out of her thoughts. Her eyes scanned her surroundings before she allowed herself to step out of the grey car. She stepped into the building, her heels clinking on the floor. The receptionist greeted her, a polite smile on his face. After introducing herself and telling him why she was here, he kindly directed her to Sam's apartment.

Sam was certain he'd never been this nervous in his entire life. Not even during the first flight test with the EXO-7 wings. His apartment was filled with mouth-watering smells from the food he'd prepared - a three course meal for his girl. He had an arrangement of blue irises and red roses on the the table, soft music was playing in the background, setting a romantic atmosphere along with a few candles.

The sound of the doorbell resonated in the home, and his heart fell to the bottom of his stomach. On his way to the door, he stopped in front of the mirror to check his reflection one last time.

Breath got caught in his throat as he opened the door. A simple navy blue flared dress and heeled sandals was all she wore. Her hair was pinned in her regular sleek bun while small silver hoops adorned her ears.

"Hey," she flashed her a smile, and Sam realized he'd been staring at her for way too long.

"Hey, come in," he stepped aside, not taking his eyes off her as she walked in the apartment.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Is this too much? I didn't know what to wear because you said casual but at the same time it's our first date and—"

"Baby," Sam cut her rambling with an amused smirk. "You look amazing. You always do. Now come give me a kiss."

Her body moved on its own, attracted to Sam's as if it was a magnet, pulling her towards his warm, loving embrace.

Iris' eyes started to sting as she walked further into the flat, seeing how much effort Sam had put into the evening. She really didn't deserve him.

"You like it?" Sam's hand came to rest on her hip.

"Sam... I love it. Thank you."

"You're very welcome, baby girl," he whispered before giving her another sweet kiss.

Bottle of red wine was uncorked and poured into glasses. Iris, quite the connoisseur, marvelled at Sam's choice. Sheepishly, he admitted that he went around asking the team about some of Iris' favourite things to make the night as good as possible — including her favourite wine which according to Tony was any vintage French red with sweet undertones.

First glasses of wine down, hunger made stronger by drinking alcohol on an empty stomach, they soon settled around the table. As the city went about its usual frenzy outside the large glass windows, Sam brought the first course to the dining table, an entrée worthy of a Michelin star restaurant.

"Are you sure you never went to a culinary school somewhere?" Iris mused, tastebuds raving in her mouth.

"Just like to watch a lot of cooking shows," he smiled.

"This tastes fantastic. And with the wine, ugh! You blew my mind, Wilson."

Main course, then dessert. All while talking and talking, as if they never grew tired of each other's voice and mimics and stories. Gulps of wine, second bottle uncorked, melted chocolate and notes of berries from the wine mixed together to form an elixir, an aphrodisiac, like being around each other wasn't already enough for their bodies to turn into lava. More talking, until it was time to clean up.

Bare feet on the wooden floor, heels discarded in a corner of the room for her, soft padding of socks for him, they waltzed around the room, plates and cutlery clinking as they loaded the dishwasher.

Then the familiar, world famous guitar air filled the room, the notes soft and resonating throughout their entire bodies.

"Dance with me," Sam said.

So Iris put her hand in his, abandoning her half full, half empty glass of wine on the table, right next to the irises and roses, and danced with him.

"Wise men say only fools rushhhh iiin..."

"You are a terrible singer," Iris giggled in the crook of his neck.

"My cooking makes up for it."

"It sure does, Sammy. It sure does."

They let the music surround them, guide their movements as they swung around, hands caressing each other's body, fingers drawing intricate shapes and paterns over their clothes, lips leaving feathery kisses over necks and jaws, trying to find a way to transfer the intimacy of the moment.

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

"I love you, Iris."

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

She sucked in a sharp breath as if she'd been hit — burned. But it had to be the most pleasant burn ever.

Some things

Are meant to be

"You don't have to say it back," Sam murmured. "I wanted to tell you."

"I— I love you too, Sam," she said, tears already streaming down her face.

Not stopping their swaying, Sam pulled back just enough to allow him to take Iris' face in his hands. That's when she noticed that the song still hadn't stopped — or rather, had started over.

"You planned this," she scoffed through her tears, rolling her eyes.

"Damn right I did."

With his thumbs, he wiped away her tears  then took his time admiring her. Every detail of her face and entire being.

Elvis kept singing, and they kept swaying.

*

Emergency mission. Get your asses back to the compound.

The lovely message which pulled both Iris and Sam out of their post coital slumber and forced them to go back to the Avengers headquarters as quick as possible.

Once they arrived, they only had time to make their respective protein shakes as breakfast before Director Fury called them in the conference space. Everyone else was already sat, waiting for Nick to speak up.

"I need you guys sharp on this one. We got the info a few days ago but there was a piece of intel missing from the brief, which I needed to give you guys the green light."

Nick pressed a button and an image appeared on the large touchscreen. Shock took place on some faces, pain on others.

"Oh my God."

"She's alive?!"

"Where is she?"

"For those of you who don't know, this is my second child, and Iris' twin sister."

Eyes still slightly wide, they all stared at Iris' identical twin. They had the same features. While Iris' face was free of scars, Dahlia had a large scar across the face, from the tail of her right eyebrow through the right corner of her mouth, ending at the chin.

"Steve," Iris called.

The super soldier snapped out of his thoughts, tearing his gaze off his ex-lover's face.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Fine."

"Dahlia —"

"What is it with you and flowers?" Wanda asked, genuinely curious.

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose, already annoyed by the wave of questions that was about to submerge him.

"That would be a question for their mother, a question that I, too, would like an answer to."

"Oh, dad, please! You called us Nicky and Nicolette, so I think you can save your rant on names for later," Iris rolled her eyes.

"Wait," Sam interrupted Nick just as he opened his mouth to speak. "I gotta ask, which one's Nicolette?"

Iris narrowed her eyes at him.

"That would be our dear Iris," Tony said.

A stiffled laugh came from the back of the room where Bucky sat, pinching his nose to contain his giggles. Iris raised a brow.

"What you laughing at Buchanan?"

Bucky snapped his mouth shut in a thin line.

"This is a matter of worldwide security, so I'm gonna need you to stop behaving like goddamn children," Nick scolded, giving a pointed look to his daughter. "Dahlia is a compromised former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. She'd joined the ranks of HYDRA long before S.H.I.E.L.D. fell. She's a traitor, that is why you've never heard of her."

"I've seen her before," Wanda's voice was almost a whisper. "With Strucker, during our... experiments."

"But... we saw her in her cell in the Raft. Then she died of a seizure," Natasha said matter-of-factly.

"She escaped a few months ago."

"Told you I should've brought her to Asgard," Thor mumbled.

"A few months ago?!" Iris repeated in disbelief. "Dad, why didn't you say anything?"

"She was invisible to our radars until now. With what remained of the Insight protocols and Stark's tech, we were able to find her only a few days ago."

"Tony, you knew about this?" Steve, who still hadn't said anything until that moment, turned to Tony, lines creasing in his forehead.

"Sorry, Cap. Fury made me swear not to say anything."

"Dad... What's the mission?"

"Dahlia was seen at a facility located on the border between Ukraine and Russia," as Nick spoke, images appeared on the touchscreen next to him. "Packages were sent from this facility to Iraq and Syria. We have reasons to believe that weapons are curated in this facility, using the remains of the Ultron disaster and sent to the Middle East."

"But it's been years since Ultron happened," Clint chipped in. "How could she possibly still have access to Stark tech?"

"Veronica," Bruce blurted. "Veronica and the other satellites. What if she's using Veronica and the drones from the satellites we don't use anymore to create weapons?"

"But how?" Rhodey asked.

"Dahlia's access to all those things was revoked after she got in the Raft, but what if she's using Iris? The older satellites don't require a retinal scan to work, but they do have the same voice."

"Jesus Christ," Iris burried her face in her hands. "Dad. What's the mission?"

"Destroy Dahlia's facility, locate the weapons in the Middle East, get rid of them... Neutralise Dahlia Fury."

"Dad—"

"Two teams. Colonel Rhodes, Barton, Maximoff, Barnes and Romanoff as air support in the Middle East. The rest, in the Ukraine. We don't know how many men exactly but based on our sightings, more than Strucker had in Sokovia. You leave tonight."

Steve immediately walked out of the room, hands balled up in fists, jaw and shoulders tense. The rest of the team did the same, one by one.

"What's his deal?" Sam asked Iris in a hushed tone.

"Him and my sister... They were together. Their relationship was as serious as could be. We never knew what happened to Dahlia, you know? Maybe she was brainwashed, kind of like Bucky, but she still knows who we are... When she was sent to the Raft, Steve was inconsolable, first he hurt her, then he lost her..."

"What? The—" Sam gestured across his face. "He did that to her?"

Iris nodded. "He didn't mean to. The shield bounced off someone and she was in the way. He was furious with himself."

"How about you, baby?" he squeezed her hand. "You okay?"

"To be honest, my dad and I never believed she'd died. Something was off in her death certificate, but we still grieved and moved on, you know," she sighed. "I've got to check on my dad, okay? I'll talk to you later."

She gave him a peck on the lips before strolling down the hall to find Nick.

Iris felt like a building had fallen on top of her. Her heart was already troubled, tugging on two different sides, and now her twin sister, who was supposed to be nothing but ashes in the Atlantic ocean, was a terrorist and very much alive.

In her hand, her phone started to ring, the screen lighting up to display a photo of her fiancé holding their daughter, both smiling at the camera.

***

Tags: @wakanda-inspired

[kammieceleek]

The Princess, The Thief, and The Alchemist:  A Disenchantment AU

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a princess. She was beautiful and beloved by all who knew her. Never once did she disobey her parents and married her true love at the age of sixteen right after meeting him for the first time. Quiet and demure, she lived out the rest of her days as the queen of another kingdom, married to the king and being mother to every child she bore him. And she lived happily ever after.

Nope. That's not right.

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a thief. He was the son of a minstrel and a writer, though not their child by blood. He was tired of his life on the road and longed for a life of comfort and stability. One night, he broke into the castle of the king and stole the princess's tiara, which he sold in another land. He bought a manor for himself and his adoptive parents and became a wealthy lord, living happily ever after.

Dude, that's not right either.

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived an alchemist. He was quite wise and good at his job, serving the king dutifully and without question. Never did a day go by when he tired of his search for the Elixir of Life to make his king immortal. And one day, he discovered the secret. He made the Elixir and gave it to his king, who ruled the kingdom forever after. The alchemist was remembered as a hero and lived happily ever after.

For fuck's—why the fuck are you writing this shit?! Are you trying to put the audience to sleep?! This is the modern age! Nobody wants a cut-and-dry story without twists and turns! Nobody wants a goody-two-shoes princess who never does anything wrong! Nobody wants a thief to just get what he wants! Nobody wants anybody to get the fucking Elixir of Life! Are you insane?!

Well, if you're such an expert, Kamije, why don't you take over?

Well, I have been writing stories for years. I'm sure I can make something the people will enjoy more than your antiquated bullshit.

Says the woman who's still a Disney fangirl at the age of eighteen.

Shut the fuck up.

You were literally watching the season finale of Ducktales earlier while eating pizza and regretting your life choices.

Dude, I can do this.

Fine, if you think you can. Just know that nobody will enjoy it. You said it yourself: nobody wants a cut-and-dry story without twists and turns.

Oh, I've got twists and turns, sir. In case you forgot.

Good luck, sweetie. You're gonna need it.

I don't need luck. I make my own luck. With a luck machine.

Okay, now you're just quoting indie games.

Get out! I've got a quill in one hand and a parchment in the other, and if you don't leave, I'll shove my booted foot up your ass to kick you out myself.

Fine, fine. See you later. Enjoy catering to the mindless masses.

Fuck you.

Now that that's taken care of, let's get on with our story, shall we?

Our story does begin once upon a time, in a land far away. It begins in the land of Lilac, which was well known for its history and wealth. A beautiful land, ruled by Queen Candy in the stead of her late husband, King William. She was beloved by her people and all who knew her, and she expected her precious daughter, Princess Nicolette, to follow in her footsteps.

Too bad Nicolette—who preferred to be called 'Nikki'—didn't want to follow the rules…

"Your Highness, good morning!"

Nikki groaned as her maid, Lucy, opened the curtains. Lucy smiled at her mistress widely and curtsied politely.

"It's a big day, Your Highness! Everybody's waiting for you down in the dining room!"

"Let me sleep a few more minutes…" Nikki grumbled.

"Her Majesty sent me to get you. I-it's time for breakfast."

"Fine." Nikki got out of bed and saw Lucy holding a red dress.

"Here's your new dress—made from the finest silks of Flora."

"Great." Lucy helped her mistress put the damn thing on and didn't bother with the corset; after all, Princess Nicolette had inherited her mother's naturally slim-waisted frame and large… never mind.

"Here we go, Your Highness."

Nikki sighed and headed down the stairs. Servants and guards alike lined the corridor, all wishing her good morning.

"Morning, Your Highness!"

"Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"That dress looks amazing."

"You've grown up fast."

"Your mother is waiting for you."

"Have a good day."

Nikki entered the large dining room and sat down at the table, next to her mother, as usual. Queen Candy was busily going through some papers and signing where she needed to, all while eating her breakfast and drinking her morning wine.

"Mornin', Nicolette," she greeted her daughter, looking up and setting down her pen. "You look beautiful today."

"Thanks, Mom." Nikki began picking at her food. "Anything else noteworthy about today? Like… maybe the anniversary of one of your greatest accomplishments?" Candy gasped and put down her fork.

"Oh, God! I'm sorry, honey." Nikki's hopes rose. "That's right! Your weddin' is today! I can't believe I forgot! No wonder the servants have been so busy!"

"No, Mom, it's my birthday… too."

"Oh, happy birthday." Candy didn't sound nearly as enthusiastic. "But remember: Prince Edward will be here before you know it to marry you. Your maids will help you get ready, so hurry and finish eating. But not too much—you can't be chubby for the portrait!"

Nikki rolled her eyes and picked at her food some more before pushing her plate away.

"I'll see you at the wedding, I guess. Bye, Mom."

"Bye, sweetheart."

Nikki headed up to her room, where she looked at the wedding dress Lucy had set up and sighed. This was real. Her freedom was about to come to an end, just because she was the princess and her mother wanted an alliance.

Shit.

In Lilac, it wasn't just princesses who had shitty lives. Our next main player is a thief, named simply Max. Like the master said before, he was the son of a minstrel—named David—and a writer, named Gwen, though not their child by blood. Nobody in their little caravan was related by blood, save for the young daughter of the minstrel and writer, who was named Elizabeth. Well, besides those four, there were two other men and a platypus. Yes, a platypus. Her name was Muack (named by Lizzie a couple years earlier) and she was good at attracting attention—which worked well for Max when he wanted to pick pockets. Everybody was so distracted that they weren't keeping an eye on their wallets.

"Well, today's the day!" David announced to the caravan. "It's the royal wedding of the Princess of Lilac and the Prince of Woodland."

"Great," sighed Max, stabbing his dagger into the tree stump he was sitting on.

"Aw, c'mon, Max."

"Davey, please shut up," groaned Cameron Campbell, the leader of the caravan. "I have a hangover."

"What's a hangover?" Lizzie asked Gwen.

"It's something that happens when adults drink too much of the stuff I told you not to."

"We're going to entertain the guests as they arrive," David continued. "We all know our jobs, so let's get started!"

"Yay!" Lizzie attached herself to David's leg and he couldn't help but smile even more widely at the four-year-old.

Max sighed again, watching his adoptive father and his little sister go off. Gwen followed them—undoubtedly to detach Lizzie from David's leg. It was just Max, Campbell, and Jaspar.

"Do you know how much royalty is coming to this thing?" Campbell asked the three.

"Every family with more than a thousand coins to their name?" Max deadpanned.

"Exactly! And you're going to rob them!"

"Nah, I had my own idea."

"This isn't a good idea," Jaspar warned. "Davey doesn't like you stealing as much as you do."

"Well, his 'minstrel' business and Gwen's writing make us jack shit. I'm the one who's risking my neck so none of us go hungry."

"What's your idea?" Cameron inquired, pushing Jaspar aside.

"Here's what I'm thinking: I steal just one thing today, and that one thing will allow us to get out of here, once and for all, and start new lives as rich people."

"I like it. Simple, yet classy. What are you going to steal?"

"The princess's crown."

"B-but she'll be wearing it!" protested Jaspar.

"Duh. I steal it after the wedding, when she and her prince go to bed."

"This really isn't a good idea. You're good, Max, but nobody's that good."

"Watch me." Max pulled his dagger out of the stump and stood up. "Well, I'll see you guys tonight. I've got to stake out the church."

"Take the platypus," urged Campbell, picking up the creature by the tail.

"Nah, Lizzie will want her. Bye."

Max headed off towards town, slipping his dagger into its sheath as he went.

There's one more player in our story—an alchemist by the name of Neil. He was the son of the royal philosopher and considered a prodigy by all who knew him. Currently, he was busily experimenting with different mixtures, trying to create the elusive and legendary Elixir of Life. It would grant immortality to the drinker and bring Neil himself everlasting fame if he was successful. However, there was a slight hiccup with his work. And that hiccup was a childhood friend, a friend who would often invade his space to ask him questions and distract him from his never-ending (and, honestly, futile) quest.

And this friend was Princess Nicolette.

"Neil!"

He nearly dropped the vial of tonic he was holding as the door slammed into the wall.

"Nikki! Goddammit, I'm trying to work here!"

"I need a potion made," she stated, ignoring his objection.

"What… kind of potion?"

"Sleeping potion. Something to make me sleep until the end of the day. There's no way I can marry the Prince of Woodland, Edward Pikeman." She sat down on the stool by his workbench and crossed her arms.

"Nikki, I want to help you, but unfortunately, I'm the only alchemist in the kingdom who can make a potion like that. They'd immediately know who did it and I'd go to the dungeon for the rest of my life! I'm not risking my neck so you can avoid work!"

"Work?!"

"Yes! Being princess is your job, and it's unfortunate that your job requires you to marry a stranger, but there's no way around it. I'm sorry that you're not happy." Suddenly, something occurred to him. "Happy sixteenth, by the way."

"You know what's sad? You're the only person to wish me happy birthday without me reminding you that it's my birthday."

"Wow. Even your mom?"

"I tried to be subtle about it and tell her it was the anniversary of one of her greatest accomplishments, and she took that as me reminding her about the wedding."

"To be fair, this marriage was arranged ten years ago today. I'm sure it's been on her mind since then."

"I wish I could just leave…"

"And that would cause even more of a panic. You're kinda stuck."

"Well, time to go get ready. Are you coming to the wedding, at least?"

"I would, but I have a lot of work to do."

"You're not going to find the Elixir of Life. You might as well come see me sold off."

"All right. I'll get as much done as possible, then come to the wedding when I'm done."

Nikki took a deep breath as she sat in the bridal room in the church, waiting for her wedding ceremony to begin. Her heart was beating more quickly than usual from stress, anticipation, and anxiety. She just wanted to get this over with so that she could get on with the rest of her life. Maybe Prince Edward wouldn't be so bad as a husband. To try and calm her nerves, she peeked out the door to see her husband-to-be.

He had horrible pimples, with red hair and buck teeth. There was a sense of arrogance about him as he chuckled to his companions—a short man with an eyepatch and a taller man who was silent. Nikki shuddered in disgust as she retreated back into the room.

This isn't happening. This isn't happening. You're back in bed. Any minute now, Lucy will wake you up and Mom will wish you happy birthday.

"Nicolette?"

Nikki looked up to see Candy in the doorway, wearing a pale blue dress that went well with her pale green hair. She had an expression of joy.

"You should be smilin', darlin'. It's your weddin' day."

"I feel like I can't. I'm marrying a stranger and I'm only sixteen."

"Well, that's how I got your father, and look how I turned out."

"Oh." Nikki stared at her feet.

"Come on. Put on a smile and let's go out there. I'm givin' you away to your husband."

Nikki took Candy's hand and they walked out into the chapel as the music began. Everyone stood to view the bride, who was wearing her mother's wedding dress and looking just as beautiful. Her veil was over her face, so nobody could tell that she wanted to cry rather than smile. Edward smirked as she walked towards him, the ring in his palm and ready to go. Candy made a show of putting Nikki's hand into Edward's and he lifted the veil.

"You are quite lovely," he told her. She wanted to gag as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Thank you."

The old priest began to ramble about how they were there in the eyes of God, about to become man and wife as well as a prince and princess. Nikki could feel her heart pounding, still wanting to bolt.

And her opportunity came in the form of a drunken man wandering into the chapel.

"This the bar?" he slurred, a strange duck-beaver creature at his side. A guard came forward and tried to apprehend him, but to no avail.

That was when he started punching people.

Chaos broke out and her husband-to-be dashed to defend her. Nikki took the opening to make her way over to a window. She ripped her veil off her tiara and wrapped around her fist, cushioning it as she punched the glass and it shattered. The princess glanced downward. It wasn't too long a fall.

She jumped.

Max could hear the chaos in the chapel and smirked. Campbell was a master of attracting attention when he wanted to be. He probably feigned being drunk and started punching people. All there was to do now was wait for somebody to escort the princess out and snatch the tiara. Easy.

Above him, he heard the faint sound of glass breaking. He covered his head with his arms as the shards fell a few feet away. Looking up, he saw a girl in a wedding dress judging the distance to the ground. Evidently, she'd decided she could make it, because she swung her legs over the sill. Max scooted over a bit right before she fell and she landed in his arms.

"Wow, thanks!" she told him breathlessly.

The tiara!

Before he could stop her, she stood upright and dusted off her dress.

"Gotta go before they notice I'm gone. This might be my only chance out of this. Thanks again for catching me."

"Your Highness!" a guard yelled out the window.

"Too late. God, where do I go?" Max thought for a second, then grabbed her hand.

"Let's go, Princess," he told her. She ran after him and they ran past a skinny guy with curly brown hair.

"Hi, Neil! Wedding's off!" she called.

"Goddammit, Nikki! And who the fuck is that?!"

"Don't know!"

Max felt like laughing. This was gonna be too easy.

"There! He has the princess!"

"Shit," Max muttered. "Okay, Your Highness. Get ready."

"Ready for—oh, God!"

He lifted her over his shoulder and started running faster. The skinny guy (Neil, right?) was right beside him.

"Where are you taking her?" he panted.

"Out of town. Best place to go if you don't wanna be found."

"I'm faster than he is!" the princess protested.

"Not in the dress, Princess Nicolette."

"True. And don't call me Nicolette. Call me Nikki."

"Whatever, Your Highness."

She let out a growl as Max took a few detours in order to outmaneuver the guards that were still on their tails. He wasn't sure why Neil was following them, but he decided to let the guy stay. Within minutes, they reached the edge of town and where Jaspar was waiting with Lizzie.

"Max!" Jaspar gasped, leaping to his feet. "W-who are these people?"

"No time. Get some of Gwen's clothes and get this girl in the wagon."

Jaspar nodded and did as he was told.

"So, who the f—" Max put a finger to Neil's lips and shook his head.

"Language around Lizzie," he instructed. Lizzie climbed up on a stump and leapt onto Max's back.

"Max is back!" she announced, clinging to him like a possum to a tree. She was one-hundred-percent David's daughter—from the red hair to the light skin to the happy attitude. The only thing she appeared to have inherited from her mother was her violet eyes, which sparkled just like her father's.

"Yeah, I'm back," he laughed. "Were you good for Jaspar?"

"Yep!"

"She takes after you," Jaspar sighed, coming out of the wagon. "The girl is getting dressed. I figured I should give her some privacy."

"Who are you guys?" Neil inquired.

"We're a band of traveling performers, here for the royal wedding," Max replied. "I'm Max, and this is my sister, Lizzie. The blonde guy is Jaspar. What about you?"

"I'm Neil, the royal alchemist. Any reason you decided to bring Nikki here?"

"It's a good place to hide. Campbell would know—once he escapes the guards."

"What did you guys do?!" Jaspar groaned.

"Campbell made a distraction by crashing the wedding with Muack and pretending to be drunk. The princess smashed a window, jumped out of it, and landed in my arms. I helped her escape."

"You're bringing the guard down on our heads for that?!"

"Sure. Why not? It's not like they can ever track me."

"Okay, fair. You're good at avoiding capture."

"Oh my gosh!"

David came stumbling towards them, Gwen right behind him.

"You aren't going to believe this! The princess is missing! She broke a window and jumped into the street, where a mysterious man kidnapped her! Oh, the poor girl…"

"If you ask me, she dodged a sword there," Gwen commented. "Did you see that Prince Edward kid? He gave me a once-over and looked like he wanted me."

"I wish you'd told me," David sighed.

"Thanks for the clothes, whoever you are," Nikki laughed, coming out of the wagon. Her hair had been loosened from its updo and was freely bouncing around her shoulders, the tiara nowhere to be found. Gwen's clothes were a little loose on her, but that didn't matter.

"No problem," Max told her. "I'm Max, by the way."

"I'm Lizzie!" Lizzie piped up, dropping off of Max's back and hugging Nikki around the legs. "And you're really pretty!"

"Aw, thank you, Lizzie."

"P-Princess Nicolette?!" David gasped before Gwen narrowed her eyes at Max.

"Lizzie, grown-up words," she said in a low voice. Lizzie let go of Nikki and plugged her ears.

"Go ahead," Max sighed.

"Max, what the fuck were you thinking?! I know you're a fucking thief, but kidnapping?! You said that was too shitty for you! People are too valuable to steal, you said! Look what you've fucking done! You kidnapped the goddamn Princess of Lilac, on her fucking wedding day! Do you have any idea how much deep shit we're going to be in because of you, you asshole?!"

"You done?" Gwen took a deep breath.

"Yep."

"Then let me explain something to you. She jumped out a fucking window to avoid getting married. She was trying to get away. I helped her. You and David raised me to help people who needed it, and you're giving me shit about doing exactly what you raised me to do?! Nope. Sorry, but that's not how this works!"

"Okay, fair enough." She tapped Lizzie's arm. "Mommy and Max are done yelling now."

"Okay, Mommy." Lizzie unplugged her ears and smiled up at her mom.

"Ma'am, I'm grateful to Max for helping me," Nikki told Gwen. "I don't want to get married yet. I just turned sixteen today."

"Happy birthday!" David and Lizzie sang in unison. Nikki laughed again.

"Like I said, I just turned sixteen. I'm not ready to get married or be a mother or rule a kingdom."

"That's fair," Gwen conceded. "But still, asking a thief to help you?"

"I didn't ask. He just did it."

"Oh. I see." Gwen smirked at her adopted son. "Well, I'm Gwen, Max's adoptive mother and Lizzie's birth mother. The man with the red hair is my husband, David."

"It's nice to meet you all. I hope you won't mind if I stay with you guys to hide for a while, at least until my mother calms down."

"Not at all!" David chirped. "We'll add you to our group, if you want!"

"I'll stay to keep you out of trouble," Neil offered to the princess.

"Thanks, Neil."

"Let's get the hell out of here!" Campbell yelled, running out of the kingdom with the platypus.

And thus begins the adventures of the Princess, the Thief, and the Alchemist.

[apartofthelosersclub]

The Apothecary’s Apprentice

A/N: So this is my second time writing, seeing as I am finally getting the courage to do so. This was inspired by @dailyau ‘s prompt, “I’m sick so you make me chicken soup and I’m really grateful but I’ve also seen you read books on magical spells and potion-making so I’m not sure if I should drink your soup in case it turns me into a toad” AU

I’m going to tweak the prompt a bit (a lot) so that it’ll fit what I have in mind more, The Losers Club will be aged up (15-16). 

This imagine is set after the Losers Club defeated Pennywise, also Beverly never left Derry so she is still with the Losers Club.

(Y/S/N) is Your sister’s name [she will be older, or course]

Eddie Kaspbrak x Male!Reader

Trigger Warnings include but are not limited to: Homophobic Slurs, Profanity, Bullying.

Sonia Kaspbrak was notorious for her frequent trips to the Center Street Drug Store, ran and owned by Norbert Keene. Only the best for her and her baby boy, Eddie Kaspbrak. Three times a week, either she or Eddie picked up their prescriptions and picked up various other ointments, gauzes, or bandages that Eddie might need for his fanny packs. Sonia had recently experimented with organic salves, elixirs, and medicines among other things that had been recently been appearing at the pharmacy. Today, she had walked in, expecting to see the aisle where she would see a decent amount of the organic medicines or products only to find nothing. They had worked marvelously on her, and she wanted some of everything for her Eddie. She wouldn’t leave this pharmacy empty handed, not when she found medicinal, organic products that would keep her baby boy healthy and safe. Walking to the register, she looked for Norbert. She proceeded to grab some tissues from her bag, then she covered the tip of the bell and tapped the bell, producing a loud chime.

“Good afternoon Sonia, what can I help you with today?”

“Good afternoon Norbert, I’d like to know about those new organic products that have been appearing in your pharmacy. There isn’t any today, I’ve checked all of the shelves in the aisle and nothing. When is the next shipment coming in?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait till next week Sonia,” replied Norbert Keene cautiously. He had to choose his words carefully with Sonia; His failure to deliver her any anything, be it for her or her son, resulted in more than a few colorful words being directed towards him. 

“Next week,” her mouth was set in a straight line. He had to act fast, lest he get an earful today,

“The apothecary who makes the organic products lives here in Derry. She and her family make them fresh every week, with local ingredients that they grow. I could give you her address.”  

Sonia smiled pleasantly, she would not leave this pharmacy empty handed.

The apothecary’s shop was a shop smaller than Norbert’s pharmacy, tucked away into a corner. The shop was bursting with color of the plants and herbs that could be seen through the storefront window. There were two tables with umbrellas that helped to shade whoever could be sitting there. Opening her purse, Sonia grabbed some tissues and placed them on the crystal door knob, before opening the door. Tiny golden bells chimed, the sound clear and pleasant resonated through the shop. Along the wall were dried and fresh herbs and flowers of all kinds. Along another, were: salves, ointments, bath salts, and other organic medicines. Approaching the register, where there was a granite mortar and pestle with a concoction of herbs and oils, Sonia saw was a young woman. Smiling the young woman began her greeting,

“Good afternoon, Miss, I am (Y/S/N) (Y/L/N) of (Y/L/N)’s Apothecary; How may I help you today?” her voice had a feathery quality. Sonia decided she liked it.

“Good afternoon, I am Sonia Kaspbrak. I would like to know if all of your products are organic and locally grown?” Sonia crisply asked. In the same feathery tone as before (Y/S/N) replied,

“Yes, my family and I grow every herb and flower ourselves in the greenhouse at our home. We also do not use any pesticides”. Satisfied and content with the information about where the ingredients were coming from and what is being used on them put her at ease. 

“I’d like to try samples of everything.”

“Of course.”

It had taken two hours to sample everything in the shop. Sonia was satisfied with everything that (Y/S/N) had to offer. They had sat at a table in the shop, talking for a bit.

“Is everything to your liking Ms. Kaspbrak?”

“Please, call me Sonia, and yes. Everything I sampled was marvelous”

The chiming of small bells interrupted their time. As (Y/S/N) began to stand to greet the person, a voice with the same feathery voice pleasantly interrupted,

“Good evening (Y/S/N), good evening Miss. I how have your days been?”

There stood a petite, delicate boy; Dressed in a dress shirt rolled at the elbows, tucked into his shorts, with white sneakers, and perfectly circular black glasses. (Y/S/N) responded,

“My day has been very good today, what brings you here today (Y/N)?”

“I thought I could make a tart and we could eat it together. Since you have a guest, Miss, would like to join us and have some?”

“What a absolutely lovely boy you have (Y/S/N), and yes (Y/N), I’d love to join you both” Sonia responded happily. This boy would be a perfect friend for her Eddie, unlike those hooligans that he was was always with. (Y/N) was epitome of elegant etiquette and grace with his mannerisms and posture. (Y/N) placed a box on the table and proceeded to open it. He brought out a beautiful mango tart. 

“I’ll be right back with plates and tea (Y/S/N)”

“Why does he not call you ‘mother’ (Y/S/N)?”

“(Y/N) isn’t my son, he is my younger brother. My husband and I have custody of him, and we raise him as if he were our own child” (Y/S/N) responded quietly.

(Y/N) came back with three polished pink and white china plates, on top of the china were glass teacups. He then promptly went to the back of the shop again.

“Alright, that was the last trip,” (Y/N) said, bring with him a glass teapot with a blooming flower inside of it. (Y/S/N) proceeded to pass out the plates and serve the tart, meanwhile (Y/N) served them all tea.

“Come on eddie spaghetti, hurry the hell up”

“Beep Beep Richie, and stop calling me that!”

“Hurry up, I wanna see your mom!”

“Don’t even start your shit with me right now

Eddie pedaled home, making him and Richie late. They were supposed to meet the other losers at the quarry, but eddie had forgotten one of his fanny packs at home. He couldn’t leave his home with just one fanny pack. When they arrived at his house and entered his mother was there.

“Hello Eddie bear, how was your day?”

“Hey Mrs.K!”

“Good mama”

“Did you forget something?”

“My second fanny pack,” Eddie replied nervously. He didn’t want to get in trouble for forgetting the second fanny pack again. 

“Hm,” that wasn’t good.

“Did you want me to go pick up my medicine mama?”

“As a matter of fact, you’ll be going somewhere else to get your medicine from now on. You’ll be going to the (Y/L/N)’s apothecary. The lady who works there should have your prescription ready today. Go on and pick it up. Also, she has a boy your age. Invite him and take him with you and your..friends”

Richie had found the second fanny pack and was making his way out of the house. Eddie began to turn to leave when his mother halted his actions,

“You’re forgetting something Eddie bear. Kiss,” Eddie’s mother said. Eddie turned to face and walk towards his mother to give her a kiss.

“Do you want one from me too Mrs. K?”

“Oh, shit!”

“What now?”

“Dude we can’t go in there. The old lady who works there’s an old witch who eats kids,” Richie shouted and tried to turn around to pedal away.

“No, I can’t leave and that isn’t true dumbass. I have to go pick up my medicine,”

Eddie replied. He flipped the kickstand down and proceeded to enter the shop.

Small bells chimed, the sound soothing and calming Eddie and surprisingly Richie who went in after Eddie.

There was a pretty young lady who appeared to be cutting [?] herbs with a weirdly shaped knife.

“Hello, I’m here to pick up my prescription. I’m Eddie Kaspbrak”

The lady stopped her cutting [?] and wiped her hands on her apron. She looked at Eddie and Richie, who was trying to smell every flower and herb.

“Oh, you must be Sonia’s boy! I’m (Y/S/N) (Y/L/N), I own the apothecary. Let me get your medicine,” She went to the draws behind her to get the my prescription. Finding mine, she handed to me.

“Also, I wanted to know if your son would be able to come with me and my friends and hang out?” Eddie nervously asked.

“Sure, let me just call him,” She had gone to the end of the counter by the wall where a phone was mounted on the wall and proceeded to dial a number. While calling her son Richie proceeded to mess and knock over some small bells.

“What the hell are you doing dumbass?”

“They looked fun to play with,” Richie started, but then shut up.

“(Y/N) is on his way to the Apothecary. He shouldn’t be long now. Thank you for coming, tell your mother, I said hello!” Mrs. (Y/L/N) chirped.

“The owner of the shop isn’t an old witch who eats kids after all”

“I seriously feel like smacking you right now”

“Kinky!”

“Hello, (Y/S/N). What’s up?”

“Remember when Mrs. Kaspbrak came a while ago and was talking about her son?”

“Yeah...is he there?”

“Yeah, and he’s cute”

“Stop, I can feel my face heating up. I’ve seen him before and he’s so incredible, and so handso--”

“He’s asking for you. He wants to know if you want to hang out with him and his friends.”

“I’m on my way!”

They had left the store and started to pick up their bike and began to mount them when they noticed someone coming to the shop by bike. Eddie had never seen someone so beautiful before in his whole life. The boy was lithe, and smaller than him. His features were delicate, his eyes framed by perfectly circular glasses. Dressed in a light dress shirt, tucked into black trousers, with sneakers and a clear plastic book bag. He stopped and put the kickstand on his bike down and walked into the shop, glancing at Eddie and Richie. No more than two minutes later, the boy came out, walked up to both Eddie and Richie. He began to introduce himself,

“Hello, I’m (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you both”

Eddie swooned at the feathery voice the petite boy emitted.

“The pleasure is all mine~”

“Beep Beep Richie. Hello, I’m Eddie Kaspbrak and this trashmouth here is Richie Tozier. I wanted to invite you to come with us to the quarry. The rest of our friends are there now, if you’d like to come?”

“It’d be a pleasure to join the both of you”

“Well come on toots, we’re burning daylight!”

The three had made small talk on their way to the quarry was interesting. (Y/N) voice was so feathery and soft that Richie and Eddie had to quite down to hear his response. It was amusing to see Richie have to control his volume for once. Once they had arrived at the quarry they left their bikes by the edge and proceeded to meet the others.

“Hey Richie, Eddie, new guy?”

“What’s shakin’ bacon? Everyone come meet our new friend!”

“Leave him alone Richie, you’re going to scare him.”

“Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you all. I do hope I am not intruding.” The losers could only stare in amazement at such a soft spoken boy. They all proceeded with introductions. Well Richie proceeded with introductions.

Everyone had gotten along with (Y/N). Surprisingly Stan, Mike, and Ben seemed to become friends the fastest with (Y/N). It may or may not have made Eddie jealous. Stan and Mike had been attached to (Y/N) hip since he had shown them plants the attracted birds the easiest, which allowed them to see them up close. Ben loved the way (Y/N) described the colors and meaning of flowers, seeing as it gave him ideas for poetry.

But (Y/N) had gotten concerned and inquired about Stan’s scars. Stan didn’t want to talk about and (Y/N) inquired no more on the matter. But (Y/N) had given Stan a salve that would help with the itch that came with scars, and with time if Stan kept applying the salve the scars would disappear. Stan had hugged (Y/N) and thanked him. When their time together ended, they all made (Y/N) promise to come back and visit again. As all the losers and (Y/N) began to bike home, trouble followed.

“Well, Well, Well if it the fag and friends”

The Losers were confused, but (Y/N)’s face burned with embarrassment.

“Come back here, girlie little queer,” some of the boys of Derry sneered.

“Shut the Fuck up!”

The losers had gotten off their bikes to deal with whoever was messing with the newest member of The Losers Club.

After all was said and take care of, they gathered around to comfort their friend.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take (Y/N) back, you all go home.”

Richie got the hint and proceeded to get the others to let them be.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that. I’m so sorry,” (Y/N) sobbed.

Eddie, who could care less about germs at the moment, wrapped his arms around (Y/N) and proceeded to whisper comforting words.

“It’s alright, you have us now. We’ll be here for you, to help and protect you.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

Hearing (Y/N) cry broke Eddie’s heart. So he sat with him, and held him, until they both had to go home.

Upon arriving at (Y/N) house, Eddie got off his bike and walked him to the door. They held hands, and Eddie wanted to continue holding (Y/N)’s hand.

“Thank you, for sitting with me and biking home with me. It means a lot to me.”

“You mean a lot to me. You have since the moment I saw you. May I come by tomorrow and visit you again?” (Y/N) looked so perfect and Eddie was in love; He just wanted to be (Y/N)’s, and for (Y/N) to be his. So Eddie dared to ask,

“May I kiss you?” (Y/N)’s cheeks felt flushed, but he spoke up and whispered,

“Yes, you may.”

Eddie, flushed as well, bent to press a chaste kiss on (Y/N) cheek. He dared not overstep any boundary by kissing him on the lips.

“Y-you missed my lips,” (Y/N) whispered as he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck and pulled him closer, winding his fingers in Eddie’s hair.

Eddie had never been happier.

Should I make a part 2? I feel that this needs a part 2. The pictures are not mine, I found them on google. Also here is the recipe for the mango tart 

[taotrooper]

Open skies

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Characters: Zelda, Link Pairing: soft Zelink but can be read as gen friendship with a crush Rating: G Spoilers for the game’s ending! Summary: The first day after leaving the Castle is exhausting for Zelda, but Link is there to make her feel more comfortable as she rests and gets used to normal life again. As the night advances, he also feels more relaxed around her. AO3 link: here

She had done two astonishing things in a matter of hours: sealing the Calamity and making the Hero laugh. Perhaps she had grown to be less of a failure, after all.

She stared at the horizon, her heart sorting itself out just as the sky cleaned up from the malice. An instant ago, when she had used her power to seal the beast for good, gold had inundated everything. The sky above Hyrule Castle went back to purple tones, then it slowly went to grays and then soft blues, as it tried to remember how it used to look like. She, too, had to get used to using her own body once again, to think about things that weren't holding the evil back or believing in the hero. She was standing on her feet again, under gray clouds that struggled to turn as white as her dress, as clear as she wanted her feelings to be.

"I've been keeping watch over you all this time..." she said, knowing he was listening closely to her words. He had listened to her every word after his awakening, but this was different, this was personal. It wasn't an advice or an instruction, but her convictions.

She heard steps and the rattling of metal towards her, but she kept talking with her back on him.

"I've witnessed your struggles to return to us as well as your trials in battle. I always thought —no, I always believed— that you would find a way to defeat Ganon." She turned around, slowly. Blades of grass touched her ankles and calves, an old sensation made new again. There he was, attentive, his own blade sheathed on his back. "I've never lost faith in you over these many years..." She put her hands over her chest; putting infinite gratitude into words, both hers and the kingdom's, was not easy. She decided to keep it short. "Thank you, Link... the hero of Hyrule."

She finally gathered the courage to look into his eyes for the first time in a century. She smiled, but the winds of doubt swept it away just as quick. Yet she wanted to believe, so she fought against the frown and the sigh.

"May I ask... Do you really remember me?"

She waited for the answer, her heart beating at the sight of him, as dashing and quiet as she remembered him. It was curious she would find this scarier than the intense battle that had taken place. Calamity Ganon was like the palm of her hand after so long, but Link... Strands of long blond hair danced with the breeze. He took his time, staring at her as well. Once upon a time, that would have driven her crazy. She had always been impatient by nature, but she would gladly give him as much time as he needed. She knew patience already.

"Yes, I do," he finally said. "I remember you more than I remember myself... Princess Zelda."

She laughed in relief. Her name on familiar lips, she had missed such a simple thing so. She would accept it even if Link had no idea of who she was, but then again, he was all she had left from her old life. That little selfish desire might be justified, just for that day. The first day after destiny was fulfilled.

"Is he...?"

"Calamity Ganon? Yes, so it seems. You've done it!"

"We," he corrected her. "We six. And you did the most. Thank you."

"Link..." She closed her eyes, trying not to soak on the compliment. Fixing your own failures doesn't count as heroism, she thought. Still, the thanks warmed her ancient soul, and he made a point she agreed with. "Yes, we all helped. Our friends have poured all their strength into their support, despite... the losses."

For a beautiful day that should be celebrated, the breeze was certainly cold on her arms.

Link walked past her and stared at the castle doors. She turned as well and joined him, her heart in conflict. It had been her home, then her cage, and then something akin to a common tomb. It was hard to say goodbye, but it was painful to even look at it after a century of being trapped between walls of stone, between the airs of malice, between the bones of her dead ones.

Let's go, Link told her with his blue eyes. Birds chirped nearby, urging them with their songs of encouragement. She walked away with her knight behind her. Old sandals echoed on stone floors. Walking felt strange. Breathing pure air also felt strange. The air... it felt full of energy. She stopped and looked back once more. Presences had been around the tall towers but they had vanished before she could glance at them. Instead, blue petals just like the silent princess' rained on them.

Father... Dear friends... Please bless us and finally find peace.

Zelda brought it unto herself when she insisted to walk on her feet instead of riding on the back of Link's horse or using the Sheikah Slate. She hadn't expected to be this out of shape, falling behind to grasp for breath like a child every few minutes. Her feet hurt under the straps of her sandals. But Link didn't seem annoyed. After a while, he called her with his hand and brought her to an abandoned pan over an extinguished campfire, hidden between the trees.

"I am so sorry for slowing us down," she apologized while he set his things on the ground.

"Why?" He looked at her. "You just used all your power, of course you're tired. We both are."

He was tired? She had assumed he wasn't since he could keep on and on. But it made sense for him to be exhausted, by all means. The feat was astonishing even for someone of his strength, not to mention the emotional burden. Slightly ashamed for not realizing it, her cheeks flushed as she sat. The grass tickled her legs and the trees' shades lulled her to sleep, while she admired the beauty of her broken homeland.

When she woke up, the sky was dark and the smell of food filled the air. She felt hot and stiff. When she looked down, she saw a coat over her body like a blanket.

"This..."

"Warm doublet," he explained over the sizzle of the fire. "You were shivering, so... You can have it if you want."

"Is that alright?"

"Yup, I bought a better outfit for the cold anyway."

"Thank you." She put it on over the prayer dress. It was large for her, but it didn't matter much. Zelda could feel the familiar spiritual presence in its fibers. "Father gave it to you, didn't he? I will treasure it." He blinked; perhaps he had forgotten how he got it, or he was surprised she wanted to cherish something from the king. She didn't know, but that's how it usually was with Link. She glanced at the plates over the ground. "So all this food, are you trying to prepare a celebratory feast? This is the fourth dish."

"No, I just don't know what you like, so..." So he was giving her choices. That's right, he still had amnesia.

"Are you planning to eat the rest, you glutton?" she teased.

"...Some. I'll save the others for later."

"I see! That's practical and wise!"

In the end he cooked six recipes. Eating was another thing she had to get used to. Zelda could vaguely remember the exquisite dishes the royal chef would make for her and her father, the beautiful presentation of the table. But the taste of the fancy delicacies was hazy in her memories. Everything that wasn't bile and ash and blood in her mouth was, perhaps.

She tried a bit of every dish. Link didn't have a full set of cutlery; she had to eat some things with her hands, which was more fun than she expected. Everything about that meal was memorable. All flavors were bound to be a new pleasure for her tongue, a new discovery awaiting the research. She didn't recall that meat could be so juicy, that rice could be so fulfilling, that soup could be so creamy, that fruits could be so sweet.

"Exquisite. Actually, this is surprising," she smirked. "You have become quite the cook!"

"Uh, I don't usually do most of these..." he smiled back shyly, caressing the back of his head. "I just slap some meat skewers or roast hearty radishes or durians. Get things done quickly."

"So you don't experiment like this when it's just yourself?"

"Sometimes." He stuffed his mouth with rice and mumbled something.

"I beg your pardon?"

Link swallowed and tried again. "You were right about hot-footed frogs, though."

"I knew it!" Her face lit up. "Oh, it makes me glad that you have been testing the properties of elixirs! Have you tried other species of frogs?"

He nodded and then stared at Zelda's face with a pleased, content expression. Even lovingly, perhaps? Maybe that's what the girl wanted to see so she wasn't sure. She stared back for a few seconds, not tired at all of looking at him. His serious eyes, his messy golden locks, his long ears, his silent lips, his proud chin... She could still see her beloved friend, her beautiful knight in there. Since he woke up he had become a wild, sloppy boy with a knack for the unconventional, sure, but she didn't mind the change. If anything, it was refreshing to see him so alive. His courage, kindness, and sense of duty were still alive and strong, so it shouldn't matter.

The peaceful smile as he looked at her was a welcomed change of pace, even if the intrigue was starting to get to her.

"What?" she laughed. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing of the sort!" Her eyebrows rose. "You're thinking of something but you remain silent to keep appearances, aren't you?"

"..."

"Say it, go on. I believe we're past formalities after all these events. Besides, I've noticed you're a tad more communicative lately. So you can tell me anything and I won't censure you for your thoughts."

It took a while for Link to say it and he had to take a deep breath before he murmured one single word:

"Nerd," he said, not without affection.

That wasn't the heartfelt têtê-à-têtê about his feelings that she had expected, but it amused her regardless.

"Cheeky!" she gasped in fake outrage and grasped her chest with one hand. "Thank you very much, as I may be a nerd but I'm quite proud of it!"

Then it happened. At first he bit his lower lip. His torso started to shake. He soon let them all out, joyful chuckles that could be overheard over the hoots from the owls and the chirps from the restless crickets. It was contagious, also. Zelda's giggles soon joined in, charged with all her positive emotions through the day: the courage, the resolution, the satisfaction, the relief, the peace, the curiosity... the love.

She had done two astonishing things in a matter of hours: sealing the Calamity and making the Hero laugh. Perhaps she had grown to be less of a failure, after all.

"There she is, I recognize her," he nodded when they calmed down, while he packed the extra food. "The girl from my memories."

Zelda's heart raced as fast as the horse sleeping next to the camp had during their fight. Perhaps it was a bad idea to give him free reign to express whatever was in his mind, if he was going to be so open about her. Oh, she might be over 100 years old, but her soul was still a teenager's in so many areas. She went back to the teasing, not knowing how else to handle that. His fault for saying things in ways that were easy to misinterpret.

"So you remember me as a nerd? Well, it could be much, much worse."

"It's... no, not just... hmmm... like the sun?"

Zelda blinked. Link wanted to say more, but he suddenly seemed too embarrassed to be coherent. What was that about the sun? What on Hylia's name did he remember? She didn't push it, though. His communication issues were not something to solve with one blow. He was still learning. Baby steps. They both had to get used to so much...

"It's alright, it was just banter. Hey, do you have any shoes that might fit me? Just borrowing for a bit until I can get some boots, please. These cursed sandals are killing my feet!"

Quickly, Link reached for his backpacks and rummaged through too many outfits. How he could carry so much with him was a mystery that she was willing to solve one day. It wasn't just the raw strength, but also the space!

She suddenly found footwear hanging over her nose. They smelled, but she was willing to let that aside.

"Gerudo slippers...?"

"The only vai... uh, women's shoes I have."

"I saw." She grabbed them and took out one sandal. Maybe it was as retaliation for calling her a nerd and saying those ambiguous phrases, but she decided to add as she tried a slipper on: "You looked really cute in that outfit. Oh, it's a couple of sizes too big, it seems. Here you go, thanks."

She handed the shoes back. To her surprise, Link seemed shocked and flustered. But why, didn't he waltz through a town wearing that with no shame? Wasn't he used to people admiring his good looks? Was it different because it was her...? Oh, she was getting her hopes up and that was not good. He might be suddenly embarrassed because she saw most of his crazy adventures, right? Right?

This boy was bad for her heart.

Luckily he snapped out of it fast and took out a pair of Hylian trousers with its boots from his luggage.

"Uh, they're still big but won't fall off."

"Thank you, Link." Zelda got up and went behind a tree to put everything on. The boots were loose inside but adjustable, and the trousers included a belt. She felt much less naked now. "I'll take good care of your clothes until I can get my own."

"No rush..." she heard from the campfire, and a yawn afterwards.

"Even after sleeping all afternoon," Zelda said as she sat down next to him, "I could still sleep tonight like a log. Must be your feast of a dinner."

"You haven't slept in 100 years, right?"

"I was in a magical state of suspension where time didn't pass for me but..."

"State of suspension?"

"...Fine, no. Meanwhile, you only slept in the past 100 years."

"We need rest."

"Heh, I guess. I'm getting nerdy again, aren't I?" She yawned.

"Ah. I have no pillows, my lady."

"Do you..." she blushed. "Do you mind if I use you as pillow for tonight, then?"

As a reply, he earnestly patted himself as encouragement. She settled her head on the curve of his shoulder. He was softer than she expected.

"So much to do... but tomorrow, I wish to go to Kakariko Village, if it's alright." She hadn't realized she had assumed he would travel with her, once again the shadow to her lights, the light to her shadows. But there was no problem, as Link was of the same mind.

"Impa?"

"Yes, Impa."

"She'll be happy," he smiled.

"I have to visit Purah and Robbie as well, but she comes first. It will hurt, seeing her so old, but I owe it to her."

Link nodded, which rocked her head along. He was so comforting to her. Exhaustion took over her and her eyelids started to shut down.

"Good night, Link."

"Rest well, Zelda," he whispered. She felt nimble, callous fingers caressing her head and combing her hair. In any other time that would have set her heart aflutter, but that tenderness just made her relax and fall into a peaceful slumber with no nightmares.

Her duty might not be over but everything was alright, and she deserved the fleeting rest and the happiness.

[theliterateape]

Ripe for Indoctrination and Thirsty for a Glass of Ice Cold Kool Aid

by Don Hall

It happened my Junior year in high school at a stadium concert in Western Samoa.

The conversion had been a long time coming. I was a bit of an intentional outcast among the more popular kids in my Where-the-Fuck-Are-We? Kansas high school and, being a typical teenager despite my ingrained belief that I was fully non-conforming and different than this cast of Heartland Rednecks, finding inroads to the cool crowd was definitely on my mind.

Krystal Good (name changed because I’m not a complete dick). She was the captain of the cheerleading squad and president of the school’s chapter of the FCA (Fellowship of Christian Athletes). Turned out one did not need to be an athlete but you had to be a Christian or at least be open to the relentless witnessing and Bible studies. The thing is I wanted to fuck Krystal. She was untouchable but hung out with that FCA crowd.

At one point, I randomly asked her how to join. Her reaction was effusive.

“Oh, Don. I’m so happy you’re asking. You would be such a powerful witness for Christ.” And she held my hand for a moment that, in my head, was instantly underscored by some awful Christopher Cross song. I was hooked.

Remarkably, as I started attending, I mostly listened and kept my built-in skepticism at bey. I wasn’t there to antagonize the Believers — I was there to get a finger into Krystal’s cheerleading panties. Once I understand the language and the right things to say, I went in for the facade.

I was a True Believer in Getting Laid Through Profession of Non-Existent Faith.

Meetings were almost always the same. Krystal would lead an opening prayer that was designed to remind us all of our supplication to the Lord followed by what could only be called vapid confessionals: each of us had to relate a couple of sins we committed during the week and how we repented for them.

“I cheated on my algebra test. I felt really guilty so I went out of my way to be nice to [INSERT ONE OF THE THREE BLACK KIDS IN SCHOOL].” “I lied to my mom about being at practice because I was playing Dig Dug at the Circle K. I promised God that I would be honest next time.” “I felt really angry at Mr. Telfer and wanted to kill him. I guess I didn’t kill him so that’s OK, right?”

At which point, once we had all told our stone-skipping sins (we rarely got into drug-taking, drinking, or sex because, hey, that’s personal and between me and Jesus...) it all devolved into a standard high school gossip session complete with Mountain Dew, Taco-flavored Doritos, and fudge brownies that one of the girls made in Home Ec.

Despite my efforts to cozy up to Krystal, it was never to be. She really was untouchable. On the other hand, my newfound faith became an entry point to many lesser desired vaginas so it wasn’t a total waste.

Close to the end of my Junior year, I was encouraged to audition for a touring mission group called The Continental Singers. Effectively a proselytizing show choir with a six-piece band, the bonus was summer travel. That summer the group was going to Fiji, Tonga, New Zealand, and the Samoan Islands. Plus, we got paid a stipend and had free housing and food.

I put on my best On Fire for the Lord attitude, answered all the questions right, played a few bars on my trumpet and I was in.

What I didn’t realize was that I was now going to spend my every waking hour for three months with True Believers. A few of them spectacularly hot young women. This was going to be a challenge to keep up the pretense and not expose myself for the poser I had become.

Early into the summer, my rooming partner, Steve, started to catch on. When my guard was down, I didn’t seem that Christian in his opinion. Sure, I had all the right answers but got quickly bored with too much dogma and talk of the Bible. Word sort of spread and the indoctrination became a bit heavy-handed.

The show we performed went like this:

Band played an overture

The ‘show’ was an originally written version of Joseph and His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat but with different music and some really terrible dialogue. Turned out a lot of it was verbatim from the Word of God so I’m assuming God can write a bestseller but not a musical.

Following the show (about 45 minutes in length) our director would come up and do a “Come to Jesus, Won’t You?” sermon followed by an opportunity for anyone in the audience to receive the call, embrace the love of Christ, and publicly commit themselves to God.

The last part was always eloquent and a bit relentless. 

“You know in your heart that you are a sinner in need of redemption.” “Man is born in sin and must accept the saving grace of our lord.” “Jesus died to fulfill the Law of the Old Testament. Confess your sin and it will be washed clean.” “How about a couple of bucks once you’ve joined?”

OK. That last line was more implied than stated but the last section of the night was a prayer and offering plates passed around by the cast while the band played inspiring tunes adagio. People came up in droves to publicly admit they were permanently stained with sin and receive the acceptance of the rest of the herd.

We were mostly free during the day and we would go out in teams to recruit audience members for that night. The teams shifted around and almost every day I was gently nudged toward the idea that, while I was a Christian (wink wink) it was a beautiful experience to re-affirm my faith publicly.

Every day for 45 days or so this message was pounded into my soft adolescent brain and often by these stellar looking women of Christ. The Kool Aid was looking mighty tasty and I began to question whether my resistance to the whole thing was merely my sinful ways fighting back. It was as if they’d heard my objections a thousand times and didn’t need me to say them out loud to pitch their liturgical woo.

Mind you, this was long before smartphones and I was thousands of miles from home. I felt isolated but only because I simply couldn’t intellectually buy into the party line. I missed American food, my car, my friends, television, movies, and books written by living authors without the agenda to convert me to religion. I missed masturbating and saying ‘fuck’. I missed being myself.

One night at a show in Western Samoa in August, as the director was making his emotional pitch, when he asked if there was anyone who wanted to commit themselves to Christ, he looked directly at me. Three or four of the cast members followed his gaze and looked at me with smiles that said “We understand. Take the leap. We approve.”

And I drank the Kool Aid. All of it. In one weepy gulp.

I was dubbed “Born Again.” And I believed it as firmly as I had previously disbelieved.

From that point, I was in the freaking club. Knowing that soon we’d all be back in various states around the country, the talk was that our friends wouldn’t understand but it was our responsibility to show them. I was told that anyone we couldn’t get to see the power of Christ was a poison that we should cut out of our lives. Friends, family, anyone. Either with us or against us with no wiggle room on it.

When I came home I had heard the pitch so many goddamned times it was like a script filled with buzzwords and catchphrases that I could recite with gusto.

Some five years later, the magic wore off. While my mom is the kind of Christian who truly tries to judge no one and feed the poor, too many I encountered were not. She and the people I’ve met through her are the kind of True Believers you read about and by whom you should be inspired (that’s not me being partial to my mom - she started a Food Bank in a closet of a church that has now grown to serve four counties in rural Kansas). Most were either wearing their Jesus Bowling Shirts each week or worse — the kind of Christians who teargas a group of peaceful protesters so they can walk across the street to pose with a Bible and then make a campaign video about it. You know, the pussy-grabbing kind of Christians.

What happened during those five years are stories for a different time but the result of this conversion and the later coming to my senses is this: I know cult-think when I hear it. When it rears its head, I’ve been there.

Faith is a very personal thing. Like watching a Marvel movie or reading the 1619 project, it requires a certain suspension of disbelief. It can be a salve in the human experience as we are creatures born to existential crisis. Turns out, we need something to hang onto beyond our own survival to thrive as a species. It can also be used as a bludgeon for power and cultural control and has often in history been exactly that.

I understand how easy it is, seeking the approval of others, to agree to a guilt that isn’t yours to bear out of a sense of belonging (or to get laid). Of confessing sins you don’t feel at all responsible for but do anyway because that Kool Aid is delicious, ain’t it? The reward of feeling like you’re accepted by the crowd, that you are, indeed, a voice for the word of...whomever is selling the most potent elixir, is comforting.

One of the hallmarks of a cult is that it tries to cut you off personally from anyone who sees the world differently than they do. When you see people urging others to completely cut off their friends and families over an issue, it's a cult. Anyone selling you the idea that you are “born in sin” based entirely upon inclusion in your race, gender, sexual preference is pitching a cult mindset. Any concept that creates a circular maze of proof (If you admit you’re a sinner, you’re a sinner. If you deny you’re a sinner, you’re a fragile sinner) is offering you an ice cold glass of Kool Aid.

Remember that there are, like, fifty different flavors of Kool Aid but they’re all just sugary water with food coloring.

[shakesonaplane]

Mad Times in MAD City: Drinking our way through Madrid

Hola everyone! Today we’re going to learn a lesson: how to “drink” a city. For those of you who know me, you’re aware that my side-hustle of a bartender makes me keen to explore the alcohol and cocktails of a city when I visit it. Whenever I visit a city, I aim to find the cool drinking spots in addition to searching for the culture and local flavors. So, when my brother recommended we visit Madrid after his work trip in Europe, you had better believe I saw an opportunity to “drink” a city. Now, whilst I know that phrase sounds really odd, and even potentially gross, rest assured nothing out of the ordinary happened on this trip. Well, by out of the ordinary I mean potentially illegal, bc a lot of things you can get up to in Madrid might seem a bit different to the average person. If at this point, you need a definition of what “drink” a city means, please go pour yourself a cup of something strong, finish it, pour another cup, and read on…

Something tells me Fidel’s Rum might just be superior but also comes with a hangover that would rival Cuban Communism

But, before we start, a quick lesson. I know that in most of the world, when we think of tapas, we think of small, shared plates. A classic restaurant experience where we order a couple things to share and then have a nice meal and maybe a drink or two. Fun fact for you: that is not what tapas really is. I learned this lesson when I first visited Barcelona in 2014 with someone who had lived there in college: tapas is really just an excuse to drink. As one of the many stories go, bartenders in Spain (some say Seville) started putting saucers and breads on top of their customers opens glasses to keep the flies out. Upon doing so, they realized that customers would come back if they offered some small bites like olives or cheese, hence Tapas (which literally means “on top”) was born. (By the way, there are a myriad of stories on how Tapas started, I just chose that one…though without fail they all seem to center around drinking). So, if you go out in Spain now, just know that Tapas are a thing to do alongside drinks and not just a quiet endeavor to eat some food. If you don’t order a drink and don’t seem to have one, I can attest that you will get a quizzical look from the local spots we tried. Recommended Tapas by yours truly were found in La Latina district called Txacolina and Casa Lucas.

I summoned my greatest willpower and only chose a few dishes here instead of my first inclination which was to ask for one of everything

I don’t often talk in too much detail on the drinks I personally consumed bc I realize everyone’s tastes are quite different and, as a person who enjoys all flavors (read: drinks too much), you can find some fun anywhere. Just note this: if you’re Tapas-ing (new word?) during the early afternoon, chances are you’ll have to taste the Spanish Vermouth, by far one of the easier Vermouths I’ve had to drink. We looked around quite a bit when we ordered a beer at this hour and noticed several of these martini glasses full of a wondrous concoction. Upon the realization that it was Vermouth, we quickly ordered our next round of this soul-clarifying elixir and briefly thanked the fermentation gods for such a lovely creation. Quick Shakesonaplane rule of thumb for drinking Madrid: If it’s sunny, vermouth or white wine…if it’s just after dark, beer, red wine or a cocktail…and if the sun is about to rise, liquor, water, and prayer (you’ll understand what I mean by that in a moment).

Example of Tapas and Nishu trying to show off the above mentioned “quizzical look”

Don’t fret, though…we didn’t spend this entire weekend drinking, though the option was certainly presented to us. We did try to find some time to experience the culture of Madrid as well as the amazing art and sights the city has to offer. And by culture, obviously, I meant finding a bar playing the Real Madrid match. Surprisingly difficult to do, Aakash (a fellow US traveler who joined our trip) and I found that not all bars will show the games, perhaps bc of the rowdiness than can follow. So, whilst Nishu and Anu (our final travel companion) were siesta-ing, Aakash and I found an Irish pub (go figure) to watch the Real Madrid match. While it is always a pleasure to watch football in España, I must say I would’ve preferred being at the match itself. But beggars can’t be choosers, so we endured.

Post siesta fun at just another local watering hole…still not sure if Spanish people do anything but drink all the time and I don’t mind at all

Perhaps the highlight of our cultural tour of Madrid was not related to drinking at all, but instead a walk through the Cubist  section of the Reina Sofia musuem and a long, wonderful stare at Guernica, perhaps Pablo Picasso’s most famous piece of art. A massive drawing that takes walking across to really appreciate, Guernica is what a non-art-aficionado (like me) would call “pretty amazing”. The Reina Sofia has a multitude of really wonderful art to take in, so if you’re around in Madrid and have some hours to kill between drinks, I’d recommend a stopover before or during siesta time. The queue outside the Reina Sofia grew immensely when we left it, bc the evening seems to be a hot time to visit on the weekends, so plan accordingly. 

You can’t take photos of Guernica, so apologies for the stock photography, but even looking at it again as I write his brings back a whirlwind of questions and emotions.

By now you must be wondering, well, hey, where’d all the drinking go? And you know what, so were we.  So with our sleuthing hats on, we endeavored to find something tasty by way of cocktails in various areas. Being that I’m turning into a cocktail snob, the goal was to find really unique drinks in the coolest locations and best designed bars. Let me say this, Madrid did not disappoint. I’ve started to notice that Spanish cocktails are amongst the best mixed drinks I’ve had in many European spots. We delved into all manner of drinks across a few trendy cocktail bars, but if I had to recommend some I would point you to Salmon Guru and 1862 Dry Bar for the best fancy cocktails I had there. Be warned, these drinks are not for the light-hearted, so if you’ve felt toasty just reading my escapades in the past (or you’re not even close to done with that 2nd drink I told you to get), then exercise a bit of caution. That doesn’t mean skip it, that just means order yourself a glass of water as a chaser

Yes that’s a chili in my drink, yes it was spicy, yes it tasted like home

For our final foray into drinking away our time in Madrid, we ventured a place that has only been described to me as “don’t go before 3am”. So you can imagine my surprise when we rocked up at 3am and saw what was probably the largest center-of-city night club I’d ever seen. For those who aren’t familiar with the Spanish clubbing style, Kapital is the kind of place that doesn’t even open till midnight. And then you can venture across several floors of people, music types, people, drinks, people and oh did I mention people? Couple up Aakash, Nishu, and Anu and this nightclub and basically I knew that breakfast was going to be drunk food and that was that (which turned out to be Mexican tacos, somehow). I have to say, this was a pretty enjoyable clubbing experience, and I don’t often say that as I get older and the grey in my beard starts to win over the black. But hey, if I could handle myself till 7am with the best of them, then surely I can’t be that old (he said while sadly remembering his hangover).

I would describe what is going on in this picture, but let’s be honest, you don’t really want to know

So there you have it! A crazy weekend in Madrid that ended with me waking up after 1hr of sleep and heading to the airport for a flight back to London. To say I was tired the next day is an understatement. I even got yelled at by a woman at the lounge in MAD airport for opportunistically taking a cold shower there…unless I was so out of it that I didn’t realize I was hallucinating! I also realize after reading through this that there are a ton of dark, dank, and rather hilarious photos we took. Rest assured, we did see sunlight whilst here, and I do need to make a trip back to explore the other important sights of Madrid :)

As always, here are some photos from our trip there and a map to guide you along your way when venturing through this city, drunk or not:

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Hasta luego! Abhishek

[originaldetectivesheep]

A Life of Riley Part 4: The Dumptrucks of the Gods ch 3

Chapter 2

III

Carolína scooped together a bit of lettuce around a couple stray pieces of meat, picking up from what was her side of the bun.  I poked around with my fork to grab up a few of the french fries that were too soaked in egg yolk to pick up by hand, and decided that if she was just leaving the other tomato slice, I could take it too.  The bus was going to be coming, sooner or later, and the chivito al plato from her cousin's Colombian-Uruguayan fusion place wasn't disappearing fast enough: just one of them was probably lunch for three or four people, and the two of us had more on our mind than gorging on South American beef rolls.

But it did help, a little: we really felt like we were getting prepared, getting ready to jump off into the unknown.  Carolína had found Melanie's apartment, and she said, while we were coming over to get lunch, that they were cool by text, but she didn't look relaxed – and the place we were going to was out on a suburban bus line that ran once an hour.  It felt like we were packing up for a train to Siberia – to see, from what I'd managed to pick up from Carolína and Riley, a witch who lived in an abandoned clock tower.

Carolína rolled her half-finished Coke between her hands.  "I really hope it'll be okay," she said, "and no offense, Yuping, but I really wish we could bring someone else.  Not instead" – she held her hands up, like she hadn't known me since she joined the lab, and I might not get her meaning right – "but just because I know Melanie, and I'm thinking about how we have to talk to her.  Sajitha would help – Sajitha was thinking about her, about me, when there was the problem with my last apartment – and of course she and Remy used to go out, so he could help, but not now.  Mel and Remy were cool before, but, you know, you never know who's cool with an ex when they're single but not when they're together with someone new, and then of course Sajitha's with Remy now, so both of them are out – I don' think this would matter, but…"  Her voice trailed down, and she forked up another pile of steak.

"But Melanie's already do many strange thing," I followed, "and strange thing about relationships is only next strange thing.  So, don't trust; must take care."  I nodded, but Carolína shook her head.

"It's…it's not quite that," she said, "because, I mean, I ought to be able to handle when people get weird about who's with who.  I'm more worried about what'd happen after she got weird – what'd happen to her.  I mean, if we don' get her, I'm sure Riley'll figure something else out.  But she didn't stop with her alchemy after the thing where she got her stomach pumped – the only way she's living so far out is if she's also got to find someplace to put a workspace."  She shivered.  "I feel bad for people living there, already – and I don' wanna even think about what'd happen if she got strange."

"I was busy last term," I said, "and I think I miss what happen with Mel.  I hear about it around the lab, little bits – but mostly it was your roommate, and I didn't wanting pry.  And also it's Remy, and he's not want talk about his ex.  I know about alchemy, and ham, but what is alchemy?  Isn't dead for chemistry since three hundred years?"

Carolína sighed, and nibbled down a french fry to collect her thoughts.  "It is, and it was, and it shoulda been.  Melanie was in chemistry – that's where she met Remy – and for a while she was cool, so it was okay to live together.  But she got these ideas about bacon vodka last term, and they put her down a rabbit hole. She took over the basement of the house, and like reduced all these cheap pork meats, and at the end she could turn them into like rocks – mineral balls of essential salts.  And then she tried to recompose them, and make an elixir of eternal life.  But, of course, she just end up with like a gallon of liquidized ham – don' even ask, I don' know what she used for a carrier – and when she drank that, that's when she went to the hospital."  She shook her head.  "After that, I don' know how she passed her classes, but she's still here, still around school – and because we made her close up the basement lab because it made our whole house smell like wet bacon, she got out; had to find another place to live." Carolína shook her head again, staring out the window in front of us.

"And now, here we go: here we go over her place, where she's got to have another lab – where she's got to be doing more experiments – to get her to come talk to Riley about helping us.  I mean, I don' know whether I want her to say yes or no."  I nodded; that, at least, I could understand.  Things seldom got simpler when our lab got involved, and from what Carolína was saying about Melanie's past, it sounded like she might have that same effect on us. But Riley wanted to see her, called for her by name, and so of course we had to go and see.  Our phones buzzed in unison with the bus-inc notification, and I hurriedly bent my half of the bun around most of the meat on my side of the plate before we had to pick up and dash across the street to the bus stop.

It was a long ride out, and then a decent walk from the stop to the development – an old watch factory made over as condos (so, not exactly an abandoned clock tower then), and new enough the city hadn't changed the bus route to put a stop in front of it yet. Carolína texted Mel as we came into the lobby, and got a reply just as the elevator came down and opened up; fifth floor, apartment 509.  The fifth floor, when we get up to it, was quiet, almost still, with crumbs of gypsum dust in the carpet and occasional stacks of drywall along the hall; this part of the building was maybe still being finished, and maybe that explained why Melanie, if she was still making strange alchemical meat distillations, hadn't gotten evicted yet.  The rest of the building certainly looked nice – and completely not like a place that would be welcoming of people running a smelly science lab in their living space.

Apartment 509 was another long way over even inside the building; it was right at the end of the narrow hallway, up against the outer edge of this wing of the old factory. Carolína knocked on the door as we came up; there was an interphone button, but maybe Mel'd told her not to bother if it wasn't connected yet.  We waited for about half a minute, and then Carolína knocked again – and now Melanie opened the door.  She looked normal enough; blond hair even if she had a kerchief tied over it inside, medium height, green eyes behind safe and simple clear-frame glasses – if it hadn't been for the noise behind her of at least two industrial evacuator fans running full blast, I might have almost believed that she was a normal person, and that the smock and rubber gloves were because we'd surprised her cleaning.

"Carolína! It's good to see you again – are you well?  And this, this is your lab buddy, Yuping, right?  Hi Yuping, good to meet you – I think we might have said hi maybe a while back, so in that case, it's good to see you again.  Won't you come in?  You've come out all this way to talk to me in person, so I'm not gonna keep you standing in the hall."  Mel had retreated a couple steps back into the apartment, taking off her gloves, but stopped when she noticed us still standing in the door.  "No, it's all right – it's safe – I'm not doing anything dangerous in here, and I'm definitely not doing anything with dangerous reagents out in the open.  I was just cleaning up before you got here so there'd be a place to sit down; there's nothing in progress.  Come in, come in."  I wasn't sure how I felt about all the statements in that sentence, but you had to start somewhere, and if Melanie said that her apartment was safe, the fact that she hadn't killed herself or transfigured herself into a pillar of salt or anything yet indicated that she knew what she was talking about.

"I'm sorry for not just coming and trusting," Carolína said as she came past me into Mel's front room or living room, strewn with glassware and journal articles over almost every surface, "but in our lab, we always have to make double sure moving somewhere that it's safe – you get into the habit, and soon enough you treat every lab like that.  It's not about you, it's just what we get to doing with Applied Physics."

"No, no, it's not a thing," Mel said, turning something off with a hiss and a whir like an autoclave was spinning down.  "I completely understand, and it's a good rule; sometimes it's hard to keep track of what's where even in your own space, so when you're in someone else's lab, you've got no clue what's what and what's important.  Definitely agree; anytime you're in a strange lab, treat everything as dangerous until someone from there tells you it's okay."  I looked around at the piles of dubiously-washed beakers and flasks on Mel's coffee table, the random journals landslided across her couch and her one chair; if she was saying this stuff should be assumed dangerous…

"This stuff over here, that's all fine," she said, bustling back to us, stripping off her smock and throwing it vaguely at a coatrack. "Go ahead, sit down.  So what was it that you wanted to ask me about in person?"  I sat down gingerly, trying to shift the journals and article packets all at once in case they were left open to some important page.

Carolína was perched at the edge of the sofa, almost in front of one of the arms, her hands folded.  "We came out here because we wanted to ask your help with something.  It's…it's something Riley wants." She was all nerves, very aware of the holes in their relationship from the past, and how people tended to react to the idea of becoming involved with our lab.

"Riley? Riley Kannacheskis?  Sure, ok.  What is it?"  Mel shifted in her chair and pulled a stray abstract out from under herself, dropping it onto a stack on the floor.

Carolína was doing a pretty good job of not freaking out because Melanie had just accepted the idea of helping the AP lab like nothing.  "I – I'm not, exact, a hundred percent sure, not about like why, but Riley wants you to work on making an essentialized version of a fish for us.  I – like I said, I don' know why we need this thing, but I know we need it; if you want, we can go and talk to Riley about what exactly and why or how if it matters.  But you don' got to agree up front – any time you want to, we're not gonna force you to help with this."  Carolína turned her hands over and knotted her fingers together.

Mel leaned forward, thinking, and took off her glasses (or maybe they were lab goggles) to chew reflectively on one of the stems.  "A fish – I haven't done a lot of work with fish, but I think I can give it a shot.  The problem is probably going to be more operational than anything; fish get expensive, especially because I can't just work with 'a' fish like someone going to the fish counter at the supermarket, it's all got to be the same species – I'm going to need a lot of all the one kind of fish that Riley wants to reduce."

"The fish is the grinckle," Carolína said, "the random fish that's all over campus.  We can get a lot of fish, either we buy them from Facilities, or…we might have another way to get them."  That pause meant that she was thinking about the hole in the machine room under her condo, and the slip-and-slide where the grinckles came marching to feed the place's household ghost.  I wasn't sure that was the wisest idea, but people in the AP lab asking for help from Melanie Wolfram were already locked in to a bunch of less-wise ideas, and this one wasn't especially bad in that context.

Mel nodded, still frowning.  "Okay; if the materials are okay, that's one problem solved.  The other one then is getting them out here so I can work on them; there aren't grinckles out here, so I'd have to move them over from campus constantly, and with non-preserved inputs freshness can be a real challenge in the initial stages of the process.  Do you know anything about plans for that?  I could drive, but I'd probably need help moving the fish out to it and up here, and I could probably only handle a forty-liter bucket per trip, which might have to be a couple trips a day."

If Melanie was worried about the operational end, that meant she was already on board – and if she was on board, Riley was probably way ahead of us on the logistics.  "Could move equipment instead?" I asked.  "Riley say Leo is building fume hood, so idea is maybe that you're work on campus, closer to fish."

Mel nodded, brightening.  "Yes – I should be able to set up a small process center at your lab, if there's room, or somewhere else if Riley's got other ideas.  The only things I'd need that I couldn't transport would be the air evacuators – this is going to stink like hell, aren't the grinckles the ones that taste like rutabagas and smell like dirty socks when you cook them? – but if there's going to be a fume hood and adequate forced-air ventilation, that's that problem solved!  Let's go – like I said, I closed things down for today because you said you were coming up to visit, so I can go see Riley and get all the rest of the background on this whenever.  Did you drive up here?  I have some stuff I'd like to take down, just to do a prelim check, or so that I can get an idea on total volumes and what reducing agents I'd want to start with."

"We took the bus," Carolína said, still a little shell-shocked at Mel's enthusiasm.  "I thought about driving, but I didn't want to make it like…like we were abducting you or nothing."  Carolína's Bronco did kind of have a bad reputation for grabbing people under duress lately.

Melanie nodded.  "Yeah, okay, I can understand that.  In that case, I can give you a ride back to campus – I'll show you what we need to bring, and then you can help carry it down to the garage.  Right this way – just try not to bump into anything, some of the stuff over by the kitchen actually is dangerous. Nothing I need you to carry, but yeah – careful, careful." I looked over at Carolína, and she shrugged and stood up.  I stood up, too, and returned the shrug. If we'd gotten this far, we might as well follow on all the way down to the end – no matter how weird and how dangerous that was going to turn out to be.

Chapter 4

[rueur]

Morning Pages #16 (22.01.2017)

Sunday 22nd Jan - 10:13 a.m.

So I saw Evan last night. The whole day before 7 p.m., I was in a wild panic hoping that my coughing would pass, and also trying on outfit after outfit (at one point I was in blue jeans), trying to find something that I felt comfortable enough in to wear out tonight. I tried on each of the three dresses, then a combination of shirts and pants and skirts and stockings versus no stockings, so on and so forth, only to - at a quarter to seven and about ten minutes before I was supposed to be on the train - returned right back to the black floral dress that I had decided on Thursday, that I would be wearing out last night. It was a good three or four hours of manic panic, I swear my body positivity is a fickle quality.

It’s actually 1:56 p.m. now, I got very sidetracked. I was on the phone to Ikaros for about an hour, a little over. Then I had a shower, then I made breakfast. I’ve been watching Mad Men, or at least Mad Men has been playing in the background while I’ve been running around trying to sort myself out. Samantha sent me a message asking how my date went. One of Evan’s friends sent him a text right before he called it a night (about 1 in the morning), asking how the date ‘went’, like it was over. I need to talk about this date in detail because I honestly want to remember it for a very long time to come. It’s not that it was the best date of my life, really, but as far as first dates go, this one was just one that I want to remember, and that I’ve been set up to remember, I guess. I have these pages to do it. I wasn’t keeping a diary the first time I went out with Marcus, or Ben, or Ikaros. But I have recorded when I met Evan, and also this - our first date.

He met me under the clocks at Flinders Street wearing a white shirt with faded, blue and purple roses (I called them ghost roses) under a fitted blue blazer and smart pants, with these pretty neat brown leather shoes. I also noticed that his socks were striped orange, black, and white, like one of the tops I got from ASOS. He just came and said hi, and we went on our way up Swanston Street. He asked if I knew anywhere we could go to eat, because his plan was to take me to Samsam the Korean BBQ place that Ikaros and I had had an unsavoury experience at ($17 tofu plate that was ridiculously not worth it, and the fact that it was one of only two vegetarian options just sent us totally over the edge). In the end, we ended up taking the tram to my uni and walking back down Swanston Street until we got to Wokks, this Thai place that was actually pretty sweet. There were a bunch of painted woks hanging on the walls, all unique and bright and interesting to look at. I had a great Pad Thai for $15 and Evan got the Pineapple Fried Rice, which he’d never had before. He has great taste in food though; I mean, we have a similar taste. And it was nice having Pad Thai again after so long. It made me really miss my time at Thailander. I told him a little about Thailander.

Over dinner, we spoke mostly about philosophy, and what kind of studies take our interest. I spoke a little about what I’m studying, and he told me about what he’s been reading. That conversation continued later when we were on the train back to Northcote.

During dinner, he also told me that he had a plan to take me to this hill that was a little past Federation Square, where we could listen to each other’s music, share our songs and discover some new things together. The idea was that whilst one of us was showing the other a song, the other would have to think about a song that reminds them of the song they’d just heard. I think we went back and forth like that maybe twenty or so times. We listened to a lot of music. The hill past Federation Square got super cold though, and it was also quite loud because of all the people who were there for the Australian Open. So we took the train back to Northcote and walked from Northcote station to the All Nations Park. We climbed (like actually climbed, because he didn’t know there was an asphalt path that lead to the top) the large rock structure where I watched the New Year’s fireworks from and listened to some more music looking over the lights of West Melbourne. We only kissed maybe around midnight. It was very gradual, which was a nice change of pace considering how hot last weekend was, with the dancing and the making out. We kissed like crazy last Friday: lip biting, slight tongue, butt-grabbing, oh I have to stop talking about this. All week I’ve just wanted to go back to dancing with Evan. The way he held me, moved with me, the feel of his arms against my arms and against my waist, on my shoulders; I felt like I was dancing with an extension of myself. Granted, we do have a lot in common. He seems to be quite sensitive, a little unsure of himself but still in pursuit of lasting self-love. He’s very polite, and very soft and kind. I was cold, so he put his arm around me and pulled me closer to him, and it was gentle and good. At one point, we were kissing to James Vincent McMorrow’s remake of ‘Higher Love’. I’m listening to it now again. I don’t know, I just feel super romantic right now. It’s not that I miss him, I wouldn’t see him today if I could. I just want to have another date with him at this point. He knows I’ll be really busy next weekend, because of drama. It’s a shame though, because next weekend is my last weekend in Northcote and he won’t live that close to me anymore once I move all the way back to South Morang. His uncle lives one street down from me as it is! On Andrew Street!

The music we were showing to each other was only just indicative of how much we actually share in common too; we have very similar tastes. We listened to Etta James’ ‘At Last’, and an instrumental jazz track called ‘Virgo’. He showed me some Tori Kelly songs and every time a song would end, we’d stop making out, until after ‘Virgo’ ended. After ‘Virgo’ ended, we just kissed in the silence. They were very passionate kisses. They weren’t eager, but tender. His lips were big, wide and firm, as I remembered them from last week. Because of the angle I was at, I kind of had to work around his nose at times, lean up and alternate between the left and right sides of his face. He had my hand around my waist, and I had my hand round his neck, touching his cheek very softly. At one point his hand was on my thigh, but that didn’t last for very long. I think he wanted to be a little more delicate last night than he was when we were in a club, and he was drunk! He told me last night that he’d had pre-dancing drinks with his friends and turned up to Laundry somewhat plastered, which was why he got dancing so quickly. It was a little disappointing to hear, I’m not going to lie. I thought that he was just naturally free and uninhibited when it came to dancing, but he needed the elixir of confidence just as much as I do. He had, however, sobered up when we were talking in the smoking room. And apparently, the bourbon shots he bought us did nothing to him either, so I think he had danced off his drunkenness very quickly. His explanation for typing his name as ‘Ecan’ in my phone though, was that he was still somewhat tipsy and spent all of his concentration making sure he had put his number in correctly, which he had. Anyway, we didn’t talk too much on the hill in Northcote, mostly on the way there and the way back home. On the way there, we were distracted by the stars. He pointed out the Southern Cross and I pointed out Orion and for a second, I thought we’d kiss there and then, but it turns out we’re both pretty shy. I actually think he might be more shy than me, because I felt like I lead most of the kisses that night. He lead most of the kisses on Friday night though. At one point he kissed me on the cheek last night of his own lead though, and that did turn into more making out. Oh, they were such delicate kisses to begin with. A lot of stopping and starting, like we’d kiss and then linger, our faces just right up next to one another’s, just savouring being that close to another person before we’d kiss one more time and continue on with that luscious cycle. It was immensely intimate. And Evan is a perfect gentleman, as his friend let me know at Laundry, his exact words being that I’d need to ‘work the crazy out of him’, which I now fully understand. I just wanted him to hold me last night, but he held himself back really. He’s polite, perhaps too polite, because he wouldn’t just take me. I knew he wanted to.

It was also touching to see how dressed up he’d gotten for me, and I was suddenly very grateful that I’d gone the classy look too with my dress, rather than with my New Look ‘boob-window shirt’. It does superb things to my rack, but it’s severely not dressy. Anyway, I’d never had a boy dress up for a first date with me before, and I’d never gotten myself dressed up for a first date either.

He also told me last night that he feels ‘really comfortable around me...already’, which was very cute. I think I might have something here, I really do. Last night was a dream and I didn’t want it to end, I really didn’t. But it was 1 a.m., and I just felt like I had to say that it was getting late. And now it’s Sunday, and I know I’m going to have to wait a week or so until I see him again because of my stupid show.

He walked me home, to Emily’s place, where he said goodbye to me on the front steps. He told me he had a great night and thanked me for coming out. I thanked him for the invitation. We kissed a little more, also very sweet with what I can only describe as a hint of potential passion (imminent passion, passion so prematurely present that it was overwhelming even in its prematurity), and we held our faces together a little longer. I whispered ‘stay in touch’ to him and he said that he would. And we parted ways. I slept very soundly last night. I wish that I had more space to write here because I could talk about last night for pages and pages, but my three pages are up.

I will just say that I hope he’s feeling as excited as I am about last night right now. I hope he feels hopeful when he thinks about me. I hope he likes me!