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talesofarcadia78 · 3 years ago

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Sorceress of Arcadia || Gnome Your Enemy

Summary: Y/n Lake is Jim Lake's older sister. She discovers that she is sorceress and her brother is the Trollhunter. She and the Trollhunters go on adventures together, they save trolls and humans. Along the way, a friend becomes more than just a friend and discovers their secrets.

Warning: None

Word count: 5,784

Tags: @lunariasilver

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“For centuries, the troll and human worlds stood seperate and at peace, divided by bridges that acted as doorways between our two realms. But the Gumm-Gumms wanted to devour all of mankind. They were led by Gunmar ‘the Black’. The rest of trollkind fought against him, culminating in the great Battle of Killahead Bridge, the portal to Gunmar’s Darklands. After many moons, good triumphed over evil, and our great Trollhunter, Deya ‘the Deliverer’, lock Gunmar away, exiling him to the Darklands, and sealed the Killahead Bridge with the sacred amulet. After, we tore it apart, stone by stone. We left the old world in search for peace. We stowed away on a ship called the Mayflower, just a handful of us and some gnomes we’d brought along for companionship and nourishment. Finally, we arrived in a strange and exotic realm,” Blinky explained.

“New Jersey,”Aaarrrgghh commented.

“We kept walking. Eventually, we came across a new Heartstone, and we realised we had found a new home… under Arcadia,” Blinky finished as you heard Jim snoring.

Blinky groaned and walked over to Jim. He slammed the book in front of his face.

Jim startled up, "¡Lo siento, Señor Draal! ¡No me mates!"

You had done Spanish in middle school, so you knew what he had just said.

"I'm sorry Mr. Draal! Please don't kill me!"

You giggled at his outburst. Jim glared at you quickly before he turned his attention to Blinky.

"The training of troll history might seem like a minor duty, Master Jim, but--" Bliny started to explain but was cut off by Jim.

"Sorry, I pulled an all-nighter studying for my Spanish Comprehension exam and my brain is muy gooey. I don't know. I guess I thought if I'm facing Draal in a week, my training would be a little more… active" Jim yawned, standing up.

"Yeah, like, when is he going to learn Troll-kwondo? Or Rock-itsu?" Toby inquired.

"Well, Jim has to learn why he fights, so it's kinda important to learn this," you explained.

"Miss y/n is correct. Before one fights, Toby D., one must understand why one fights. For these precious early steps will decide whether a young Trollhunter will become a Deya ‘the Deliverer’…" Blinky explained.

"Or Unkar ‘the Unfortunate’," Aaarrrgghh added.

"Well, tomorrow, my Spanish exam is with Señor Uhl ‘the Unforgiving’. My main concern is for my immediate future," Jim informed Blinky.

"A-ha! But, to learn what will happen in the future, one must only look to the past," Blinky explained.

"Ugh!"

"I recommend A Brief Recapitulation of Troll Lore by the venerable Bedehilde. Volume one of 47," Blinky recommended.

"Wow, that's a big book," you commented as Blinky gave Jim the book.

Due to the book being so big, Jim struggled to hold it. He eventually got a good hold of the book. Jim placed his Spanish textbook on top of the other book.

"Okay, but if I don't pass the exam, I'm grounded and I can't be the Trollhunter. Sorry, Blinky, but the amulet chose me, and now I have two lives to keep up," Jim explained.

Then, Bagdwella came running in stopping in front of you, panting.

"Are you okay Bagdwella?" you asked, putting your hand on her shoulder.

She shook your hand off, not wanting your comfort.

"Oh, no. Is it the Heartstone?" Blinky panicked.

"No! No!" Bagdwella denied.

"Stalkling?" Aaarrrgghh asked.

"Is Gunmar out?" you also asked.

Jim gave you a look that said 'Who's Gunmar?". You just rolled your eyes in response. He really should've been paying attention to Blinky's lecture.

"Is Bular in Trollmarket?" Jim guessed.

"No! Gnome! Rogue gnome!" Bagdwella yelled, her voice echoing throughout the Forge.

The six of you walked to Bagdwella's shop to investigate what the matter was.

"Get your toasters here!" a random troll exclaimed.

"First, I couldn't find my monocle, then my collection of bed coils. Now something disappears every minute!" Bagdwella explained.

Suddenly, a gnome whizzes past, stealing an item and making Bagdwella fall over.

"Ah, yes. Gnome," Blinky said, lending his hand to Bagdwella, but she slaps his hand away and gets up herself.

"Oh, dirty little pests. Up to last week, the glue traps were working fine," Bagdwella said, showing you all a skeleton of a gnome.

Just before you could say something, the gnome snatches the skeleton, making everyone gasp.

"Fix it, Trollhunter!" she begged.

"Uh yeah, I'm really sorry about that. See you need a gnome-catcher, and I'm well, the Trollhunter, so--" Jim explained, but got cut off by Blinky.

"Oh no, Master Jim. The Trollhunter cannot refuse the call. And what better a call for you to train with than a pint-sized quarry?" he explained, coming up behind Jim.

"Blinky's right, Jim. This'll be a start to your Trollhunting. Plus, I think the task will be easy for you," you agreed.

You heard rapid footsteps around you, then a guitar play. You all try to look for where the sound was coming from. When you did, the gnome revealed itself. The gnome started to play his guitar once again and started to sing.

"He's trying to distract us! Hold tight to your valuables," Blinky warned.

"Well, I don't need to hold onto anything, I got nothing valuable," you chuckled.

"Yeah, right," Jim scoffed.

"Seriously, I don't have anything valuable. Unless if you consider my a hundred year old phone 'valuable'," you retorted.

"Okay, maybe you don't have anything valuable," Jim agreed.

Then the two of you see Toby going up to the gnome.

"Why? He can't be that bad," Toby chucked, clapping.

Before you knew it, the gnome had taken Toby's belt.

"Oh, no! My belt!" Toby cried. Then he sighed, "At least he didn't take my Nougat Nummy."

"Uh, Tobes, I don't think you should--" you warned Toby, as he took out his favourite chocolate out of his pocket, only to be taken by the gnome.

Toby gasped, "We need to catch that gnome."

All of you tried to catch the gnome, but he was way to fast for you. One time, Jim had caught him, but somehow, it escaped from his grasp. Jim then realised that his amulet got thieved.

"Oh no!" Blinky cried.

Jim and you chased after the gnome until it went behind a wardrobe. Aaarrrgghh pushes the wardrobe aside to reveal a small hole, which the gnome was probably hiding in.

"Hole," Aaarrrgghh stated.

"Yes, it appears the plot quite literally deepens," Blinky said, looking into the hole.

Jim slides his hands through the hole opening, hoping that his amulet would come back to him.

"Come back, come back. Shouldn't the amulet be coming back to me right now?" Jim questioned.

"Dolefully, that rule only applies if you've rejected it. When thieved, it's another story. If you had read A Brief Recapitulation you would have known that," Blinky explained.

"Technically, Jim didn't even have time to read the book, since you know, we're right now doing some Trollhunting business," you pointed out.

Jim gave you a quick smile, before Bagdwella spoke up.

"Some Trollhunter you are. Jim ‘the Baby Handed’.”

You glared at Bagdwella, as she snatched a bag of food from Toby.

I'd like to see how good you are at being the Trollhunter.

You turned your gaze over to Jim and Blinky.

"Master Jim, press on. This is not the moniker you want," Blinky said.

"What else can I do? I can't fit in that hole," Jim shrugged.

"Hmm, currently," Blinky thought.

"Bad idea," Aaarrrgghh warned.

"What's a bad idea?" you asked, but no one answered the question.

"No Trollhunter has ever lost his amulet. We'll need time to procure the Furgolator," Blinky argued.

"Uh, the Furgolator?" Jim doubted.

"Uh, don't you worry about anything, Master Jim. tend to your studies. We'll watch over the hole. Tomorrow, you'll return refreshed to deal with this, uh... little problem," Blinky said, and the three of us headed to the surface.

Toby and Jim headed to Arcadia Oaks High, while you headed the opposite direction to Arcadia Oaks Academy.

Once you had gotten your books, Izzy and Rachael both ran up to you.

"Y/n! Guess what just happened!" Rachael exclaimed.

"Uhh, you won the state lottery?" you replied.

"Nope, way better," Rachael denied.

"What can be better then winning the state lottery?" you asked, getting a bit curious.

"I got into the state math comp!" Racheal squealed.

"Wow! That's great, Rachael. So, when are you going?" you asked.

"Tomorrow, that's why I was texting you the other day, I wanted to hang out with my two besties before I headed off to the competition," Rachael replied.

"Oh, sorry about that, I was... busy," you said.

"Well, are you free after school?" Izzy asked.

You thought about it, you didn't need to go to Trollmarket or have any other plans.

"Yeah, I'm free," you nodded.

"Great! We'll meet at Sam's at 4, then we'll go from there," Rachael said.

You nodded. Suddenly the bell rang, making you jump a little.

"See you guys at lunch," you called, as you ran to your first class.

As you took a seat, you noticed that everyone was focused on the board. You glanced at the board to see everyone's name with a bunch of classes next to them. You searched for your name and saw your classes. You had chemistry, biology, calculus, literature, geography and history as your subjects for the next semester. Then, you noticed a certain name that you had not been expecting to have the same classes as you, well except biology. Tyler. You heard someone sit down beside you.

"Hey, y/n," it spoke.

You turned to see none other than, Tyler.

"Hi, Tyler," you smiled.

"I guess we have almost the same classes. What a coincidence, right?" Tyler chuckled.

"Ha, yeah," you commented.

"Hey, wanna sit next to each other in classes, you know since you'll be the only person I know," Tyler requested.

You hesitated. You didn't know Tyler that well, and seeing his anger the other day in the cafeteria, you weren't so sure.

Then you were saved by the bell.

"I'll see you in class Tyler, and I'll think about it," you said, rushing out of class.

You headed towards the lower office, since you needed your new timetable. As you were walking to the lower office you bumped into a certain emo-boy.

"Sorry," the two of you apologised.

You looked up at the person, to see Douxie.

"Oh, hey, Douxie!" you smiled.

"Hey, y/n! Going to get your new timetable?" Douxie asked.

"Yep," you responded.

The two of you got your new timetable. The two of you looked at each other's timetable, wondering if you had any classes with each other.

"Hey, we have mostly the same class, except instead of geography, I have economics," Douxie pointed out.

"Cool!" you said.

"Wanna head to class together?" he asked

You nodded and the two of you headed to class.

When you entered the classroom, you noticed two seats at the back of classroom weren't occupied so you nudged Douxie. Once you had gotten his attention, you pointed to the seat and headed there.

Once the two of you had taken a seat, you saw Tyler walking in. You groaned.

"You okay, love?" Douxie asked.

"Tyler wants me to it next to him in every class. It's a coincidence that he has all the same classes as me," you explained.

"Ahh. Understood. You can sit with me in every class then, well, except for geography of course. You'll have to deal with him then, but other than that, you can always sit with me," Douxie offered.

"Thank you," you grinned.

Soon after, Tyler started looking around the room. When his eyes fell on you, you were in a deep conversation with Douxie.

"Wait, so your actual name is Hisirdoux?" you asked.

"Yeah, I have no idea why, but it's my name!" Douxie nodded.

"It sounds very 12th century," you commented.

"I know right!" Douxie exclaimed.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see Tyler fuming at Douxie.

Huh? Why does he look mad at Douxie?

You thought he was going to come up to Douxie and start arguing with him, but instead he took a seat at the front of the class, right in front of the teacher's desk.

After a few minutes, your class started.

You had a hard time figuring out what the teacher was saying, since she had a very quite voice, luckily, she was only a substitute. The actual teacher was just away on leave because he was sick.

After an hour, the bell rang to indicate next class, which was calculus, great. You sucked at calculus and science. You and Douxie headed together to calculus, avoiding Tyler.

The next two lessons kinda sucked, they all just introduced your new teacher's and what you're going to be learning for the next semester. Luckily for history, you had an assignment not an exam.

Soon, the bell rang for lunch.

While, you and Douxie were walking to the cafeteria, you were suddenly surrounded by all of Douxie's friends. Well, band mates.

"Hey, Douxie! How'd all your new classes go so far?" Henry asked.

"They went good. I found a friend that's doing the same classes as me," Douxie replied, gesturing towards you.

"Hey," you shyly waved.

"Wait, you're the girl that Douxie brought back stage at our last concert, right? Y/n, was it?" Jason recognised.

"Yep, that's me," you confirmed.

"Well, we're going over to the band room to practice, wanna come?" Jason asked both of you.

"Sure, why not. I'll just grab some food," Douxie replied. "Y/n, I'll grab you some food as well, you head over to the band room with the other's."

"Oh, no. I don't want to disturb you guys with your practice, I'll find my other friends," you denied.

"You're not going to disturb us, in fact, you can give us some feedback!" Jack said.

"But, I promised my friends that I'll sit with them today," you mentioned.

"What about, you and Douxie find your friends, and bring them to the band room? We really need someone else's point of view of our music," Jason suggested.

You thought about it for a moment.

Izzy wanted to meet the Ash Dispersal Pattern for a while now, and Rachael, well, she can make some new friends, since she doesn't really hang out with anyone else other than you and Izzy.

"Okay," you agreed.

"Great!" Jason exclaimed, walking away with the rest of the band.

You and Douxie saw your two best friends in the line to get food.

"Yo y/n! Where were you?" Izzy asked as she saw you going up to them.

"Just talking with Douxie's band. Want to go meet them? They're in the band room. They said that you guys can come," you offered.

"Oh, you had me at 'Douxie's band'," Izzy grinned.

"Just let us grab some food first, "Douxie said, walking into line, pulling you along.

After grabbing some food, you all walked over to the band room, getting welcomed by a lot of laughter.

"What's so funny?" Douxie asked, grabbing a seat for you and your friends before grabbing one for himself.

"Nothing, it's an inside joke. You won't understand," Henry said.

"Okay..." Douxie nodded, getting a bit suspicious, sitting down. "Anyways, meet Rachael and Izzy."

Rachael shyly waved, while on the other hand, Izzy waved very energetically. You instantly saw Jason blush when Rachael waved at him while she also blushed.

Who knew, Rachael had charm. She's usually not the type to get involved with the boys and crushes that much.

"Looks like we have a fan," Jack pointed out, looking at Izzy energetically waving at them.

"I'm your biggest fan! I go to every single one of your concerts!" Izzy beamed. "Well, I couldn't make it to your concert last week. But other than that, I've been to every single one!"

You, Rachael and the entire band laughed at her enthusiasm.

After getting introduced to one another and getting autograph from every single ban member, they started to practice.

"Wow, Jason is good," Rachael commented.

"Of course you'd say that. You have a crush on him," you teased.

"I do not!" she retorted.

"Sure," you and Izzy smirked.

After about 10 minutes, you heard the door open. You glanced towards the door to see Tyler.

"Hey guys!" Tyler waved.

"Hey, Tyler! Wanna practice?" Jack said.

"Jack, I don't see any of our guitarists away right now. There's no point," Douxie claimed.

"Well, Douxie, I see you're getting a bit tired of playing. Tyler can fill you in while you rest," Jack said.

"I'm not tired," Douxie stated.

"Uh, Doux, not to be rude, but you're kinda missing some chords and not keeping up with the beat," Henry commented.

"What?! I'm not missing any chords! You guys are just going faster than you're meant to!" Douxie exclaimed.

"And you're getting a bit short tempered," Henry added under his breath, but you all heard it.

"I am not getting short tempered!" Douxie fumed.

"Yeah, dude, take a pill and chill. Y/n, can you take Douxie for some fresh air?"Jason requested, snatching the guitar off of Douxie and handing it to Tyler.

"Sure," you nodded, lightly pushing Douxie out the room.

As you closed the door, Douxie started walking down the hallway. You ran up to him and made him slow down.

"Douxie, are you okay?" you asked.

"I'm fine. Those guys over there are just going faster," Douxie grumbled.

"They're not, Doux. You just need to take a break," you advised.

"I don't need to take a break, they need to take a break," Douxie scoffed.

"Doux, this is not you. This is not the person I have met and befriended with," you said.

"Well, this is me! Get used to it!" Douxie yelled, stopping in his tracks.

Your eyes widened at the tone of his voice, making you step back away from him.

Douxie's eyes widened at what he just said to you.

"I-I'm sorry y/n, I didn't mean that at all. I've just been so stressed out lately. I just exploded," he apologised.

You smiled at him, putting your hand on his shoulder, "It's okay. Everyone has those days. You know you can talk to me about it you know?"

"Thank you, y/n. It means a lot," Douxie smiled.

"We should probably head back," you reminded.

"Yeah," he agreed.

The two of you headed back into the band room, getting greeted to everyone just chilling.

"Hey, y/n, Douxie," everyone said.

You noticed that Tyler had left.

"Is Douxie...?" Jack questioned.

You nodded and took a seat next to Izzy.

"What happened to band practice?" Douxie asked.

"Stopped a few minutes ago. We were discussing on hanging out this afternoon," Izzy informed. "Y/n's already coming, what about you Hisirdoux?"

"I'm free. And how do you know my actual name?" he inquired.

"Your mates here told us," Izzy explained.

"We're meeting at Sam's at 4," Henry told Douxie.

Soon after, the bell rang for class.

After three hours, you headed to your bike and peddled home.

You finished up some chores and waved goodbye to your brother and headed off to Sam's.

Once you met with the others, you all headed over to Lucia to watch Danger House 2: More House, More Danger. You were going to sit with Izzy and Rachael but there were seat numbers, so you didn't have much of a choice. You ended up sitting at the end of the row next to Douxie. The two of you shared popcorn while watching the movie. At times, you didn't want to see a scene, so you hid your face in Douxie's shoulder. While you weren't looking, the others snuck some photos of you two, especially when you hid you face in his shoulder.

After the movie, all of you headed across town to The Bluff to watch the sunset. Everyone hated the bike ride up the steep hill, but surprisingly, you didn't. It was kinda easy for you.

Must be the advantage of running from danger.

In the end, the ride up the hill was worth it, since you all got to see a beautiful sunset afterwards. As everyone was enjoying the sunset, taking pictures and goofing around, you saw Douxie leaning against a rock, staring at his phone. You strolled over to him and leaned against the rock with him.

"You know, you can't enjoy the sunset without, y'know, looking at it," you told him.

"Huh? Oh yeah, I know. I'm just looking at something," he mumbled, not taking his eyes of his phone.

You peeked over his shoulder to see what exactly he was looking at.

He was looking at his email, more specifically, emails about bills. The numbers weren't huge, but if you're Douxie that worked 2 jobs and hardly got tipped, that would be a lot.

"You worried about the bills?" you whispered, making sure no one heard.

He nodded. "I don't know how I'm going to pay all this. Thankfully, I requested the companies to give me more time to pay them. I got a few extra months, but I don't think that'll be enough."

You nodded, trying to think a way you could help your blue-tipped friend.

"Do you have any extra rooms in your apartment?" you asked.

"No, but I do have a lot of space in the bedroom. I’ve got two double beds that have been lying around," he explained.

"What if you get a roomie? Like they would give you rent every week, while you provide them shelter, food, etc.," you suggested.

"That's a great idea!" he beamed. "Thanks! I'll start to work on your plan tomorrow!"

"I'll come to help," you offered.

"Oh no. I don't want you putting time aside for me," he denied.

"I'm not, I have a lot of free time. And even if I did, it would be worth it. Helping a friend is always worth my time," you said.

"Okay. I'll text you my address and tell you what time you can come over. Probably on the weekend, but I'll just text you," he explained.

You nodded.

"Now, let's enjoy the view."

After the sun had set, you all rode over to Stuart's Taco Truck. Jason, Jack, and Rachael all went to get the burritos, while Douxie, Izzy and you chatted, waiting for your friends.

"So, y/n, have you been thinking about what you'll be doing after graduation?" Izzy asked.

"Uh, I don’t know. Maybe go to college, like every person does?" you guessed.

"Wow, I'm just gonna get a job and do that, it's just easier," Izzy said.

"Yeah. You never wanted to go to college," you agreed.

"What are you going to do, Douxie?" Izzy asked, turning her focus onto him.

"Well, I'll probably pursue my dreams of being a guitarist while having a job," Douxie replied.

"That's cool," Izzy commented.

Soon after, your burritos arrived and all of you dug in.

Once you had finished your burrito, you checked your watch to see it was starting to get late.

"Okay guys, I'm going to head back, it's getting late. I'll see you all tomorrow," you declared.

"Wait, y/n, I'll come with!" Douxie added.

You waited for Douxie to throw his rubbish in the trash and peddled your way home with him.

Before the two of you went your separate ways, Douxie thanked you for your suggestion.

"Thanks for your suggestion before, y/n."

"It's no problem."

"Well, I'll see you soon, love," he grinned, giving you a flirtatious wink along with a two-finger salute.

You blushed and returned the two-finger salute, riding your separate ways.

Once you got home, you saw Jim was finishing up washing the dishes.

"Hey, Jimbo!" you sang.

"Hey, y/n!" Jim called. "How was your hang out?"

"Good, but I'm beat. I'm heading to bed. ‘Night," you yawned and trudged to your room.

"‘Night," Jim called.

The next day after school, you, Jim and Toby headed down to Trollmarket. You were glad to take a break from everyone. Today was just not your day. Everyone from the hangout had uploaded to social media of the photos of you hiding your face in Douxie's shoulder and the both of you sharing popcorn. The post made you attract the crowd at lunch. People bombarded you with questions related to Douxie. Most of them consisted of 'Are you two together?', 'Are you a couple?' and 'How long has it been?' Luckily, Douxie came in time and saved you from the crowd, again.

You approached Blinky, Aaarrrgghh and something covered with a piece of cloth.

"Remember when I told you all Trollhunters must start small?" Blinky asks, revealing the Furgolator.

"Full disclosure, I'm a little worried how I let you talk me into this," Jim doubted.

"A 'little worried'? I'm full on concerned!" you gulped.

Blinky turns on the Furgolator, making the doors open up.

"Still bad idea," Aaarrrgghh warned.

Jim steps inside and the doors start to close, "Wait a minute. So, how does me going into this thing help me get a gnome out of a hole?"

"If a gnome won't come out, the Trollhunter must go in," Blinky informed.

"Wait, what?" Jim questioned.

"I think Blinky plans to make you small enough to fit inside that hole," you hypothesised.

"Yeah, right," Jim scoffed.

"Exactly! We often use the Furgolator to compress minerals. And now for the anthracite!" Blinky agreed.

"See?" you teased.

Jim rolled his eyes playfully, but you saw the fear in his eyes.

"But you've done this a few times on flesh and bone, right? Right?" Jim yelped.

Blinky placed the rock inside a compartment, "Not exactly." Then the machine started up, "But I'm not concerned."

"Well, that's because you are not the one trapped in this thing," Jim complained.

"Nothing to worry about, Master Jim. We work best under pressure," Blinky shouts.

"I can't see anything!" Jim coughs. "Why is there so much smoke?"

The machine started to make weird sounds. You and Toby ran to the Furgolator, trying to get it open.

"Come on, you guys gotta get him out of there!" Toby cried.

Blinky rushed over to help us, "Don't just stand there, Aaarrrgghh!"

Aaarrrgghh comes over and pulls the doors open.

"Looks like it didn't work. Hope you have a plan B," Jim began, but then realised he had shrunk.

"On the contrary," Blinky said.

"You sure we need a plan B? I think plan A worked fine," you chuckled.

"He's like an action figure!" Toby gushed.

"The Furgolator functioned perfectly!" Blinky laughed.

He picked up tiny Jim, holding him in his palm. Jim looks at his tiny figure. You quickly took out your phone and took a photo of your little brother. Jim groaned, not liking you taking photos of himself.

You all made your way to the hole that the gnome had escaped into. Blinky placed Jim just outside of the hole.

"Real subtle. ‘We've got to start small. Deal with the little problem.’ This is a huge problem! I can't be shrunk! I have exams to take! I have sinks to reach!" Jim raged.

"You have a gnome to catch. Now, onward, Master Jim, and fetch your destiny!' Blinky reminded.

Toby grabs a pencil and hands it Jim to use as a sword, "Your sword, my liege."

Jim pokes the pencil on Toby's palm, earning a yelp from him. He attempts to walk into the hole, but he falls down, earning a giggle from you. But he eventually got into the hole.

"Oh, and one last thing to know when dealing with a gnome, Master Jim, and this is of dire importance: Do not touch its hat!" Blinky forewarned.

"Of course. It's right there in A Brief Recapitulation," Jim taunted.

"You remember!"

"Of course not! Nothing in this world makes sense!" Jim yelled.

You backed away from the hole to see Vendel walk pass.

"Miss y/n, you should go and continue your training with Vendel. We will handle things here," Blinky advised.

"Are you sure?" you asked.

"Completely."

You nodded and jogged over to Vendel.

"Hello, Master Vendel. Do you have time to teach me how to make objects move?" you inquired.

"Hello, Miss Lake. I am not known to any troll as 'Master', but it sounds good coming from you. And yes, I can instruct you how to make objects move," Vendel said.

The two of you walked over to the Heartstone and began your lesson.

Soon after, you could move objects easily, with just a quick gesture of your hand or finger.

"Thank you, Master Vendel!" you beamed.

"Your welcome. Next time you come, with some spare time, I will teach you something new," Vendel replied.

You nodded and jogged back over to the hole to see Toby backing away from the hole.

"Why hasn't he come out?" Toby asked, his voice full of worry.

"What happened?" you asked.

Aaarrrgghh explained to you what happened to your brother.

You all waited for Jim to come out safe and sound. You then saw the gnome walking out with Jim following behind him, wearing the gnome's hat.

'You summoned the armour and caught the gnome! Well played, Master Jim!" Blinky beamed.

You all clapped at his heroism.

"Thank you, thank you. I don't want to forget the little people," Jim smiled.

"Expedient and-" Blinky started.

"And good humoured," you finished.

"Oh my hero!" Bagdwella praised.

Toby captures the gnome into a bag and sets aside.

"And what about this shrinking stuff? When does it wear off?" Jim asked.

"Don't worry. Sleep it off. By morning, you'll be as good as new. And how you have earned it! Jim "the Gnome Slayer!" Blinky reassured.

"He was so young. There was so much music left in him," Toby commented, playing the little guitar.

You ignored him.

"All that is left is for you to take care of it," Blinky instructed.

"Wait, what? Take care of it?" Jim puzzled.

"Rule number two," Aaarrrgghh reminded.

"‘Always finish the fight’," Blinky quoted.

"And by finish... " you began.

"Deaden. End. Le coup de grâce," Blinky finished.

Aaarrrgghh moved his thumb across his throat, indicating to kill the poor gnome.

You and Jim shared worried glances. Neither of you were killers, but you had to follow the rules. But, it was up to Jim, since he was the Trollhunter.

You headed home, while Jim stayed at Toby's house.

As you opened the door, you saw your mom unpacking food.

"Hey, Mom. What are you doing?" you asked.

"Just unpacking the food I got. As you already know, I'm not a good cook, so I thought some takeaway would be good," she explained.

Soon, the two of you sat down and dug into your food.

"Y/n, where's Jim?" your mom asked.

"He's staying at Toby's place," you answered.

"Well, since he's not here, want to have some girl time?" she asked.

"I'd love to," you replied.

Once you two had finished dinner, the two of you sat down and binged watch watched Mistrial & Error together.

After a dozen or so episodes, the two of you started to play truth or dare.

"Okay, y/n… Truth or dare?" Mom asked.

"Truth," you answered.

"Hmm... so, that friend of yours, Douxie. Is he just a friend or...?" Mom questioned.

"Douxie?! He's... uh... um..." you stammered.

"And my question is answered," Mom cheered.

"What?! He's not. Uhh..." you cried.

From that, you and your Mom started to talk about your love life, more specifically, Douxie.

"I saw on one of your friends posts that you were hiding behind him during your little movie night," she said.

"It was a scary movie! Some scenes were just absolutely terrifying, so of course I’d hide behind him. That's normal," you defended.

"You could've just shut your eyes," she suggested.

"Um... well... uh..." you stuttered.

"I guess my suspicions are true," she smirked.

"Mom!" you cried.

"Okay, okay. We'll have this conversation another day. I'm tired, so I'm heading to bed, kiddo," she said, getting up from the couch.

"Me too. I need to go to school," you agreed, following suit.

Next morning, you woke up to the sound of clattering downstairs. You got up and got dressed into a t-shirt, pair of jeans and sneakers and rushed downstairs to see what the commotion was about. You found the source of the commotion, your mom.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

"Nothing for you to worry about, kiddo," she said.

You shrugged and realised that there was nothing for you to eat for breakfast.

"Sorry, y/n. No breakfast. Maybe grab something in town," she suggested.

"Will do. I'll head out, love you!" you called and rushed out your door, hastily grabbing your bag on your way out.

You made your way to Toby's house, checking on Jim. You knocked on the Domzalski's door. It opened to reveal Toby.

"Hey, Tobes!" you grinned.

"Hey, y/n! Checking in on Jim?" he guessed.

You nodded and you followed him to his room. On the way, Toby's Nana forced you to eat a blueberry muffin.

As soon as you entered his room, you noticed Jim's absence. But then you realised he was in a doll house.

Toby opened the doll house to reveal a startled Jim.

"What's wrong, Tiny Jim? Did you not sleep well in Nana's dollhouse?" Toby asked.

"Why am I still small, guys?" Jim whined.

"Maybe the stuff works different on trolls than it does on humans?" you theorised.

"Oh, my gosh. The gnome! You did it? I told you I was supposed to-- Oh no! School!" Jim panicked.

"We have to call you in sick. Tell them you ate too much chocolate. That always works," Toby ordered, shoving his phone into Jim's little face.

"No, Señor Uhl can sniff out a lie a mile away," Jim refused. He thought for a second when his eyes lit up. "That's it! Toby, I need you to do me a huge favour. Well, maybe a small one. But huge."

You gave him confused look.

"Look, I have a plan, just trust me on this," Jim explained. "Plus, you should be heading to school right now."

"Fine, but I want you to be normal size by the end of the day. I can't take you home like this," you said, gesturing to his size.

"Okay. Now, go!" Jim said.

You rode off to school, hoping your brother would return to his normal size.

#douxie x reader #douxie x y/n #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux x y/n #hisirdoux casperan x reader #toa #toa douxie #tales of arcadia #trollhunters

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computermaus · 4 years ago

Text

Some HC's :) Older teenage

Stan

Decided to leave the footballteam in 6th grade

Has become vegetarian in 8th grade

He has book of whales and dolphins

Enjoys watching sea documentaries

He is against Sea World or any whale shows who hold whales and dolphins in captivity. Has lead many protests against it.

He has a very good aim

He goes to a shooting range when stressed. Nobody knows this until 11th grade.

Favourite class his biology. It's the only class he is in AP at.

He bought a Star Wars Millennium Falcon on his 16th Birthday. And Kyle thought it was absolutely stupid paying 800 Dollars for that. (Stan is the type of person to do that. Can't convince me otherwise)

He likes to ride a bike occasionally for a few hours

He learned snowboarding by himself and enjoys it much more than skiing

He has learned to play the electric guitar in 6th grade.

He likes to sing when he is on his own or makes up songs on his own and sings them.

He has habit how losing things.

He is very scared to become like his father. He likes to keep himself busy so he won't fall into his addiction tendencies.

Is still fair skinned. Eventhough he had been living on a farm slnce he was 10. He doesn't get a tan.

He goes to the Spa on special occasions to relax

He was born with small breathing tubes. He has to carry an asthma inhaler in case he is short of breath

He gets nauseating from using the swings. But has no problems being on a boat

He can't dive for longer than 5 seconds without any equipment.

He passed his driving test after two lessons and at the first try without any mistake.

Kyle

He got in the basketballteam in junior year of Highschool

He got in a fight with with Cartman on the first day of Highschool.

He's the leader of the Math Quest

Has installed an app or software so teachers won't have to deal with computer viruses. ( Look I have no idea if this is accurate or not. Just roll with it)

He's in AP math, computer science, history, physics, geography, and english.

He's good at saving money

His anger has gotten worse at the beginning of his teenage years. Forcing him to take Anger Management classes.

When he's drunk he spends money on stupid things he later regrets when sober.

Kyle uses hand sanitizer before entering any building

He doesn't like it when someone or himself lies on his bed with their streetclothes and only lies on his bed in his pyjamas.

He sometimes helps out his father in his law firm. His father wants him to become a lawyer but Kyle is unsure

He can't deal with situations he didn't plan beforehand and doesn't like spontaneity.

He looked up spoilers when watching Game of Thrones with Stan but never told him.

He hates to cry in front of people that aren't his friends or family and rather gets angry.

In Music class they had to sing a song. Because Kyle didn't want to hear his own voice he had worn headphones. (They were allowed to do so). Some students started to laugh.

Kyle hates music class. He has complained many times how useless it is to force students to sing in front of their classmates only to embarrass them. When they have no interests or talent in singing (my personal opinion and I'm still traumatised. look i was a shy 14 year old girl. You can't expect me to sing in front of two classes.)

He likes when a student preferably in math class doesn't understand something, so he can explain it to them. ( THis is NOT what I did. 👀)

He started to smoke in junior year and quit after 5 months

He was in double as much detention as Stan and this because of the many fights Kyle got into. When Kenny showed him that fact Kyle didn't want to believe it was true.

Kenny

He collects snails in his backyard. He then organises a snail race and lets people pay entry. And also makes bets

Inspired by the movie the Kissing Booth he also wanted to make on in Highschool to raise money for some trip. This idea was declined

He likes Poetry

He goes to singing classes to master his oper singing skills since 8th grade

He has watched every episode of the Vampire Diaries and Gossip Girls

He is never much prepared when holding presentations and never has a poster or any visual presentation than himself. When the teacher pointed this out at one point, he said: Watching him should be enough.

He wouldn't go on a rollercoaster

He doesn't listen in class and asks Kyle what they have for homework.

He still does okay in tests

He made a pseudonym called: " MC the Lovedoctor. And gives advice for love sick students, he read from Cosmopolitan

Yes Kenny unironically reads the Cosmopolitan

He bites his nails

He has trouble opening up emotionally in relationships and that's because of the neglect he got from his parents

Kenny saves the money he earns for music college

He uses alot of self deprecating jokes.

He got his first phone in 7th grade

He is still a fan of NASCAR

He teaches Stan self defense. He teaches him stuff he learned by himself from living " In the Hood" he so nicely calls it. When Stans old house is like 20 steps away.

He found a possum in a trash and called it Louvre. And has adopted it. Kyle is absolutely disgusted by that thing. And one time when Stan, Kyle and Kenny were hanging in Kyle's room Kenny has brought that possum with him. It broke free from Kennys grasp and jumped on Kyles holy tempel. His bed.

The possum hates Kyle and attacked him several times

The possum loves Stan

He needs braces but can't afford them

He told Stan to invite him to a Spa trip with him.

He once jumped out of the window in the 8th floor when he didn't want to be in Detention anymore. The next day everyone forgot Kenny killed himself and that he was in detention. He regrets doing it and won't do it again. During is death Satan has scolded him out and how reckless he was acting.

Cartman

He loves the Possum for attacking Kyle

He likes to wear shirts that don't fit him

He got diabetes type 2 at 16.

He eats in class when he feels stressed. Its almost all the time

He likes to provocate Kyle so he will fight him and get detention for it.

He runs a club in Highschool called: "the Abstinences" They had sworn out any sexual activities and it doesn't belong to his Christian beliefs. He hides the fact he is scared of it and insecure. He shames people who are more promiscuous.

He believes because of this club he will go to Heaven

When partying he is unable to stop with the alcohol. Because of his fat it takes him longer to get drunk

He doesn't know how to shave and goes to school with razer cuts on his face.

He gets results from tests and sells them to other students

He still does terribly in school because he sucks at memorising.

He has a dream of owing his own slaughterhouse.

He gets defensive when someone asks him about his father

He has poor coordination skills.

He is to lazy to do the driving test and uses the excuse that his friends should drive him around

He won a eating contest. He ate 50 Burgers in 15 minutes.

He does good presentations in school and enjoys doing them

He has complained many times that students weren't allowed to use the elevator in school and had to use the stairs. The teacher told him to lose weight. In which Cartman told the principal the teacher was fat shaming him.

He cuddles with his cat before going to sleep

#south park #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #sp headcanons

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the-con-she-called-conscience · 4 years ago

Text

Thank you for tagging me, @tuliharja! Your responses were absolute pleasure to read <3

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents?

Ans. I've a brilliant relationship with my mother, and my father wants to kill me, so that's that.

02: Who did you last say “I love you” to?

Ans. My grandmother.

03: Do you regret anything?

Ans. Yes, horribly.

04: Are you insecure?

Ans. Somedays I am, somedays I'm not. Just like everyone else.

05: What is your relationship status?

Ans. I'm single and sometimes sleep deprived.

06: How do you want to die?

Ans. You know, I've experienced a lot of things that should have killed me, but I really said no♥️.

Okay, this one is going to be long, because I feel the need to overshare. In 2018, a person I know and his friends played a ""harmless"" prank on me , and I ended up drowning quite deep. You know those dramatic movies where everything looks slow-mo? Yeah, that's how it felt like. Anyhow, I got out somehow and a kind stranger pulled me up so I was pretty away from water. I always found that prank weird because they took away everyone including life guards, distracted my buddy, barricaded all the shallow areas, but maybe it was simply harmless.

I didn't swim since then, and I was planning to get over my fear this year, but well, 2020 happened.

But having experienced that, when I die of age 2357754367 years, I'd like to die by drowning. I really really do.

If not, an assassination will do. Just make sure it's for a good cause.

07: What did you last eat?

Ans. Gouda.

08: Played any sports?

Ans. Yes, basketball and tennis, mostly. Sometimes, shooting.

09: Do you bite your nails?

Ans. Well no but actually yes.

10: When was your last physical fight?

Ans. I don't remember. I'm more of a pacifist.

11: Do you like someone?

Ans. Do fictional people count?

12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours?

Ans. Yes, unfortunately. Never again.

13: Do you hate anyone at the moment?

Ans. Hate is a pretty strong word, so I'll pass.

14: Do you miss someone?

Ans. Yes, terribly.

15: Have any pets?

Ans. I used to have two chicks, and my grandmother, till recently, had two Labradors.

16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment?

Ans. Melancholic.

17: Ever made out in the bathroom?

Ans. Yuck. Never have, never will.

18: Are you scared of spiders?

Ans. Absolutely not. I think they're adorable.

19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?

Ans. I've been reading too many isekai manga, so yes.

20: Where was the last place you snogged someone?

Ans. I've never kissed anyone in that sense of the word.

21: What are your plans for this weekend?

Ans. Give tests, study, and organize a bit.

22: Do you want to have kids? How many?

Ans. I'm an ace. But when I actually have the financial income for it, I'll like to foster some kids, get them great degrees, and send them an emergency fund. I feel as if not many people are talking about the things foster kids face, especially teens and once they age out of the system. I'll pull an evil scientist and clone myself, if a need for someone young with my gene arises.

23: Do you have piercings? How many?

Ans. My ears were pierced traditionally.

24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)?

Ans. Biology, Chemistry, Physics, History, Politics, Economics, Geography, Statistics and Languages.

25: Do you miss anyone from your past?

Ans. Yes.

26: What are you craving right now?

Ans. Something I cannot name, for I don't know. Probably water.

27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

Ans. No, none that I know of, and definitely not on purpose.

28: Have you ever been cheated on?

Ans. As I said, mich Asexual. I've not been in a romantic relationship.

29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?

Ans. See above.

30: What’s irritating you right now?

Ans. These extremely important exams that are coming in few months.

31: Does somebody love you?

Ans. Yes, and it baffles me so.

32: What is your favourite color?

Ans. Blood Red and Prussian Blue.

33: Do you have trust issues?

Ans. Maybe. Not extremely, but just a bit. Harmless enough to not need intervention.

34: Who/what was your last dream about?

Ans. Well, yesterday I had a dream that my favourite characters were there and I was loved, and day before yesterday (Ereyesterday, if you will) I was getting chased by two murderous, ghostly, serial killing cows. They got me in the end, I think.

35: Who was the last person you cried in front of?

Ans. I don't cry in front of people. I cry alone.

36: Do you give out second chances too easily?

Ans. Unfortunately, yes.

37: Is it easier to forgive or forget?

Ans. Mostly, it is easier to forgive. But that's not an absolute answer or argument.

38: Is this year the best year of your life?

Ans. Well, the fate of this year depends on those super-important exams.

39: How old were you when you had your first kiss?

Ans. I've been kissed before I could even walk, I think. If you are thinking in the other sense of the word: well, I've never been kissed that way.

40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked?

Ans. Once, into the ocean. I was six.

51: Favourite food?

Ans. Tomatoes and Bell peppers. Shakshuka, Kuleybyaka, Thukpa, pickles—you name it. I guess anything traditional/homemade. Anything really, I love food.

52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason?

Ans. Yes, it does.

53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?

Ans. I prayed.

54: Is cheating ever okay?

Ans. No, it isn't.

55: Are you mean?

Ans. Nope. Not until you hurt people.

56: How many people have you fist fought?

Ans. As in, actually fought and not practiced, yes? Around six, all in self defense.

57: Do you believe in true love?

Ans. Yes, but not in the way it is portrayed.

58: Favourite weather?

Ans. Cold, with loads of sunlight, Snowing or Thunderstorms—I love the rain.

59: Do you like the snow?

Ans. Yes!

60: Do you wanna get married?

Ans. No♥️

61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

Ans. No, it activates my fight-or-flight.

62: What makes you happy?

Ans. Stars, books, people being happy, the way you see a stranger's day getting better, winning/accomplishments/success, stationary, hugs, libraries, zoos—it doesn't take much, really.

63: Would you change your name?

Ans. I might. Not change it, but add more names to it.

64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed?

Ans. Nope, it was my mother. Not hard at all.

65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

Ans. Tell them, as lovingly and kindly as I can, that I do not like them that way, that I'm not looking for a relationship, and that I'd rather be friends. Also tell them that I'll be the world's coolest winggirl ever, so....

66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around?

Ans. Yes.

67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?

Ans. It was a classmate.

68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

Ans. A family member.

69: Do you believe in soulmates?

Ans. Yes, but I don't believe anyone is "perfect" for you. You've got to work on your relationships, no matter what kind they are. Also, soulmates are not necessarily only one, and not necessarily romantic, or so I hope.

70: Is there anyone you would die for?

Ans. Yes, many. Without second thoughts or regrets.

Tagging: @biganimeaesthetictree @somethingpretentious @chaoticneutralcinnamonroll @microwavedsaladisevil @notyouraveragejulie @screechingnightchild @grace-k-sterling @oscarwildeismyidol @porcupinesauce

#death tw #accidental drowning tw #murder tw #ask to tag.

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magical-readathon-diaries · 3 years ago

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Djali’s Log 1

So I guess this is the beginning of it? The big adventure I always dreamed of? Braving the Novice Path, heading towards the Academy to meet new people, learn new things, see fantastic places. Wait, should I do an introduction here? Do journals even need introductions? Well, what if one day my journal is saved for posterity for some historical reason? Maybe someone venturing onto the Novice Path in the future could benefit from reading this log and learn how to better navigate it themselves? Yes, yes, then an introduction is in order.

Hello, this is Djali, of the Great Underworld Library of Darkmeadow. I am seventeen years of age, of Iltirian heritage, and tutored in the realms of history, geography, biology, archivism, and certain magics, such as conjuration and illusion. I have spent my entire life beneath Darkmeadow and was raised by the curators of the Library, though my main overseer is, at this moment, Archivist Caddigan. My knowledge of the world and its inhabitants is limited solely to my own personal research, as this log contains my first voyage away from home, so any discrepancies or misunderstandings found within are solely the fault of my own inexperience. That’s a normal thing to put in a journal, right? Okay, focus, time to move forward.

My journey to Orilium was relatively uneventful. Caddigan arranged passage for me on a ship, which carried many other residents of Darkmeadow looking to take on the Path. I was eager to speak with them to learn how they would approach this challenge, knowing that not all who undertake it come out alive. While I did get the usual pleasantries, no one was willing to talk for long. They were still planning, preparing, or fretting for what was ahead of them. Not that I can blame them, of course. With all the stories one hears, it would be foolish not to do everything in one’s power to make sure they were one hundred percent ready. It’s just….I thought things would be different. Less…. solitary. That we would all recognize our common goal and work together, like the stories of heroes long ago. But, those stories are the past, not now, as Caddigan always tries to remind me. Still, why can’t then be now also?

I spent most of the time reacquainting myself with the map of the Path, its general layout, as well as practice some magic that may be of use during the test. I had it all down to the best of my ability, I didn’t think I can take much more of it. My head was so full of what ifs, contingency plans, and just general information it feels like it was going to burst. I think the only time I felt any solace was at night.

Though I was unable to chance a flight that night, I did fly up the mast to sit in the crow’s nest. It was made for crows after all. I haven’t done too much study into nautical topics, so that’s my best assumption. I stared for a while at the stars, still admiring, my mind wanting to focus on a single point, rather than the chaos currently bouncing around my temples. It was a nice moment, one that I will treasure always and take comfort in. Of course, I eventually fell asleep, so the morning after I needed a bit of help getting down since the blasted sun was ruining my eyes again, but we won’t dwell on that.

This was my first time leaving the Library, meaning this was probably the longest time I have been on the surface in a while. I’ve ventured out onto the topside of Darkmeadow a few times, giving Caddigan multiple heart attacks in the process, but those excursions were never that long, not enough for me to get a good sense of the outside. Being on the ship, however, exposed me to what life is like in the open air. Before I left, Caddigan gave me a blindfold, as my eyes are not used to the sun and I really would not like to spend my days in a total blinded stupor. During the day I mostly spent time below deck, just wandering aimlessly. But at night, I emerged to see a sky flooded with stars.

I’ve studied stars in the past, learned their names, positions, and what constellations they create, but actually seeing them was almost indescribable. The light was soft, gentle, unlike the harsh light of day that I unfortunately have to get used to. They were celestial pinpricks in a velvet tarp of night, the world made more beautiful just by their existence. There was no moon unfortunately, but it was still a sky worth looking at. Everything felt so still and quiet, the lap of the waves against the ship making the only noise. A salty breeze tousled my hair and for a moment I was tempted to shift into crow shape just to feel what it would be like to ride it. The captain had expressly told the Iltirian passengers not to do so, something about us “land-dwellers” not knowing how to “bend to these ferocious sea winds,” but I think it may just be his superstition of not wanting too many ‘birds of ill omen” near his ship. Not very logical thinking if you ask me, but we all have our quirks.

It wasn’t too long after that the ship made it to Orilium. Thankfully by that time I could travel fairly well in the day without my blindfold, something I was extremely grateful for as the time to start the Novice Path was drawing near. We disembarked and made our way to the campsite near the entrance to the Path. A good amount of people were already there, setting up tents, getting a lay of the land, writing messages to loved ones should they not make it out. It was honestly depressing to think about, but it was a reality. There was no certainty that we were all going to make it out of here alive. Though we were all looking for adventure, for a chance to prove ourselves worthy, that all came with a price, one that some may have to pay in full.

I don’t think I find myself particularly worried. I think it’s more like I can’t allow for failure, so I can’t even accept the possibility of it. I can’t come to grips with the fact that I may very well die in the near future. Call it the reckless abandon of youth, but It just seems so impossible. That confidence will either be my greatest asset or my ruin. But enough of that! This is supposed to be exciting! That’s what readers like! A dragging down to earth is necessary in certain parts, but only so that we can rise up again!

Clearly the mood was starting to weigh heavily in the air, as an old elf came before us and delivered a well, I think it was intended to be a rousing speech about the merits of having danger in an adventure, which I suppose is true, but doesn’t alone soothe anyone’s worries. The song he performed afterwards did a lot more in stirring up the revelry of the crowd. It’s a song we all know, a song that was practically born in our minds at birth. In that moment, all those feelings of fear, doubt, and anxiety melted away, as we raised our voices as one and came together to celebrate the calm before the storm of our journey.

The night that followed was one I admit that I will be hard pressed to forget. The archivists of the Library are, surprisingly, not the most mirthful of people, so I’ve never actually been to anything resembling a party. It was very..loud to say the least. Lots of drinking, dancing, shenanigans, which I guess is normal? They don’t exactly have any academic material on this subject, though such a text would probably be very helpful to people like me. The utter pandemonium of it all was hard to navigate at first, but I think I managed to fit in rather well. I danced the best I could with some other Iltirians. I’m not much of a dancer, another thing they fail to teach you when you live at the Library, but no one pointed and laughed so I’ll take that as a triumph.

And that has been my journey up until now. Tomorrow I begin my adventure on the Novice Path, along with the others who want to prove their worth to the Academy. It’s hard to believe that the time has finally come, that I’m only one sleep away from the most important day of my life. Here’s hoping that it’s also not the last.

I mingled through the crowd, politely taking a drink now and then. I got a few names, had a couple worthwhile conversations, some a little one-sided, but I don’t think anyone’s eyes completely glazed over as I went on about the magical properties of certain gemstones. I’m not sure if I would call anyone friend just yet, though something in me desperately wants to. There’s still the fear that the people I met tonight may very well be gone tomorrow, but tonight was for enjoying this glorious moment, not dreading the future. So, the night passed thusly, with wine and song and the hope that tomorrow is a guarantee.

When the party died down and people retired to their tents, I rolled out a pack on the ground, completely content to sleep under the sky. The stars were shining bright as ever, the lovely constants of the sky, and now there was a slight sliver of moon to accompany them. Though there was little to see, she sure was beautiful.

I’m sorry, I really can’t end the log like that. So depressing. Uh, what else to end it on?

Well, the moment I wrote that a literal tumbleweed blew past me, perfectly summarizing the emptiness of my mind.

Okay, on that note, this log is complete.

#Djali #Magical Readathon #Novice Path #urban #dark meadow #iltirian #Novice Path Entrance #Orilium

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iwach4n · 4 years ago

Text

haikyuu characters as british sixth form students

i low key hate myself for this but i needed to do it. it’s necessary. also i only did subjects they do at my school

KARASUNO

sawamura daichi - takes history, maths and business, but he only really did business because he didn’t know what else to take; his suit is always like perfectly fitted like he actually tried when he was buying it; probably head boy honestly; follows the rules a bit too strictly but you can’t even be annoyed because he’s too nice; will give you the extra 50p you need to get a diet coke before school even if you don’t know him; is friends with the popular roadmen type and is the only one out of the group that you trust

sugawara koushi - takes english, art, classics and maths AS to feel smarter; says he regrets taking art like 20 times a day but still always has amazing pieces; the one kid that’s sort of in a lot of friend groups but has like two genuine close friends; the go-to if you need to copy homework because he’s always done it and will let you even if its as the teacher is collecting it; the only boy who actually tries on non-uniform day and has really nice outfits; makes you nervous if you don’t know him well because he seems too nice

azumane asahi - takes textiles, english and psychology but textiles was the only one he really wanted to do; the guy you’re scared of before you get sat next to him and it turns out he’s a sweetheart; you can’t remember the last time you saw him wearing a blazer; you ask to copy his homework because he seems smart and sort of put together but it turns out he was about to ask you the same thing; all the teachers love him; probably plays rugby honestly

tanaka ryuunosuke - takes PE, drama and french but he only did french because he liked the teacher he had for GCSE and didn’t fail it; if you’re in the same group as him for drama you have to yell at him to actually act properly but once you do he’s actually good; never has a tie; definitely the guy who yells at girls like “ayo miss! miss!!! miss can i chat to you!!!!!” even though he always gets ignored; is a roadman and is friends with roadmen but is actually nice to most people, you still don’t trust him tho; acts friendly with teachers even though they hate him

nishinoya yuu - takes PE, biology and psychology because he was told they work well together but is failing all of them; constantly on report and in detention; you don’t trust him because he’s friends with roadmen and is generally popular but when you talk to him he’s actually alright, none of your friends who haven’t talked to him believe you though; always begging to copy your homework and if you say no he’ll offer you like,,, 20p; always gets picked to do the 100m on sports day and holds the school record for it

hinata shoyo - takes PE, geography and psychology, cried when he found out there was maths in all of them; got low-key bullied in years 7-9 but is now generally well liked; mocked for his height and gets offended even though its in good nature; is that one kid who’s friends with all the popular people but unless you’ve had a class with him you literally haven’t heard of him; forgets its non-uniform day every single time; does shitty bike tricks while cycling down the road to school, there’s a video that everyone has seen of him falling off

kageyama tobio - takes PE, french and business, he was going to take maths because he didn’t know what else but his GCSE grade wasn’t high enough; the one quiet kid in class who’s just intimidating and will not speak to you if you sit next to him; is generally considered popular but when you think about it you have no clue if he has any friends; yells at you for not taking the mandatory non a-level PE sessions seriously; always buys a yazoo or capri sun from he school canteen; literally just completely zones out in study periods

tsukishima kei - takes history, classics, german and english, all of them full course coz he’s a dickhead (i say this but i am also taking four full course); you can’t remember the last time you saw him take actual notes in a lesson but he’s still got amazing grades; if there’s ever a debate in lessons he gets annoyed and swears and gets sent out; in detention for using his phone a lot coz he literally doesn’t care; always has beef with the roadmen, one time he got into a physical fight with one of them and won; won’t snitch on you for breaking any rules UNLESS he actively dislikes you

yamaguchi tadashi - takes art, graphic design and english; literally lives in the art and tech building and is best friends with all the teachers; other than tsukishima all his friends are girls; the one guy everyone thinks is gay but he just isn’t; sometimes brings like a whole box of celebrations into school and as long as he sort of recognises your face he will offer you one; he has really neat notes but he owns like one highlighter and its bright orange which ruins it; will let you take pictures of him for your art project

yachi hitoka - takes art, textiles, business and AS maths; always has the cutest outfits with pretty pastel jumpers and subtle necklaces; actively avoids eye contact whenever a teacher is asking a question even though she always knows the answer; is terrified walking past roadmen and football fields (she’s been hit in the head with the ball too many times); will buy you food from the canteen if you don’t have enough; no one knows where she goes at lunch but they never see her around and never see her leave; became a prefect because her teacher said she should; runs a textiles club for KS3

shimizu kiyoko - takes geography, maths, business and AS further maths; everyone thought she’d be like head girl but she didn’t even run for it; she’s too used to ignoring guys trying to talk to her so if you actually need to speak to her about something important good luck; is invited to every party but never goes; had THE biggest glow up from year 7; stays at school over lunch even though sixth formers can leave, can always be found at one specific bench or in her geography teacher’s classroom

NEKOMA

kuroo tetsurou - takes chemistry, physics, german and AS maths even though he was told not to do german coz it didn’t suit his other subjects; is somehow good at everything - gets good grades, really good at sports, you see videos on his instagram of him playing guitar - its genuinely unfair; is friendly with teachers and they love him; if a teacher suggests a movie lesson he will immediately ask for either bee movie, shrek or some shitty one off youtube (killer bean anyone?); is friends with literally everyone; this is a direct description of the one guy at my school who just is kuroo

yaku morisuke - takes french, geography, economics, and AS maths; plays cricket and helps run the club for year 7s, but only because it was required to be a prefect; is friendly with roadmen but the minute they leave he'll have the most disgusted and pained expression; seems really smart and put together but you've seen him swear like a sailor when he misses the bus and get blackout drunk at a party so you really don't know what to think

kenma kozume - takes computer science, maths and business; always in the computer rooms or the tech block because those are the places you can use your phone; you think he has no friends until you see him talking to the popular boys; everyone knows who he is even if like 2% of people have actually spoken to him; skips PE to sit in the toilet on his phone; always has spare everything but you can't tell coz its all just loose in his bag

yamamoto taketora - takes PE, history and english; has played basketball every single lunchtime since year 7 and he's not about to stop now; uses over-the-top compliments to chat up girls and then calls them clapped when they reject him; is trying his best with school work but is struggling, if you sit next to him please help him; is mates with everyone he's ever sat next to and will fist-bump you when you walk past each other; is obsessed with a specific instagram model and everyone calls him a simp for it

lev haiba - takes drama, PE and psychology coz they're the "easy" subjects (he's barely passing any of them); tries to be friendly with teachers but then he says something bad and it backfires; constantly has a massive bag of doritos with him and gets crumbs everywhere; still wears his shirts from year 11 coz he didn't want to buy new ones; talks to girls in younger years and is constantly called a nonce for it even though he never dates any of them; wannabe roadman that the roadmen don't really like

AOBA JOHSAI

oikawa tooru - takes physics, maths, and business and he's Struggling but he won't let anyone see that; the one guy that everyone likes and you had a crush on for like two weeks and then regretted it for the rest of your life; friends with all the roadmen and dresses like one but doesn't act like them (he's worse); talks to and dates year 10 girls but no one calls him a nonce for some reason; when you first see him you think 'damn he's hot' but a week later you're actively avoiding him in the corridors; puts porn on his snapchat story and captions it 'mood'

iwaizumi hajime - takes PE, biology and business; "friends" with all the roadmen but you get the feeling he wants to be literally anywhere else; always yelling and takes every joke too seriously; shoves his PE kit in the same part of his bag as all his books and has to pull out his sweaty shirt to get to his pencilcase; will be nice to you if you sit next to him but it feels forced; always has a cherry pepsi and a pack of wine gums or dolly mix in his bag and he won't share any with you

mattsukawa issei - takes english, biology and german even though they're ridiculously mismatched; he's not a known druggie but you're like 99% sure he's stoned all the time; will talk to you randomly if he recognises you but its intimidating coz he's popular; you can't tell if he's a virgin or if he gets mad bitches; asks uncomfortable questions in sex ed and has a shit-eating grin on his face the whole time; always late to every lesson and form time; gets blackout drunk in a field at least once a week

hanamaki takahiro - takes latin, history, german and AS english; you think he's dumb until you sit next to him in a lesson and he knows all the answers to everything; he's the nicest ever if he's on his own but if he's with his friends you have to avoid him; he came to cricket club once and now he gets put in the matches if they don't have enough people; tries to keep his stupid silver puffer jacket on in lessons; will wolf-whistle at girls to show off to his mates; you'd trust him with your drink at a party but you're too nervous to approach him

kyoutani kentarou - takes english, biology and maths but it barely matters coz he's never in lessons; school cryptid; you don't know if he's in exclusion or just not in school; if a cover teacher calls out his name in the register everyone jokingly says he's dead; will fight a roadman with 0.5% of an excuse; if you're not a roadman or chav he's acc really cool and will be your friend; has a million friends outside of school and if you want some drugs, whether its weed or like, meth, he knows a guy; probably a skater

kunimi akira - takes maths, computing, economics and AS further maths but is miserable about it coz none of his friends took mathsy subjects; just sits quietly and stares at the teacher, he barely takes notes but still gets good grades; asks to copy your homework right before the lesson and then bullies you for making mistakes in it; you see him pouring monster energy in his waterbottle before school; says he's gonna drop further maths every lesson but never does; sleeps in lunchtime detentions

SHIRATORIZAWA

ushijima wakatoshi - takes history, classics, latin and AS english; definitely plays rugby; you wonder if he even has a social life because he's always at a sports club or doing schoolwork every lunch time and after school; never has a fucking coat even if its below freezing; his parents buy him beer and cider that he drinks while just chilling in his room; probably the one guy you know who lives just,,, in the woods; his instagram has one picture and its of him shirtless, it has hundreds of likes but he was last online 20 weeks ago

tendou satori - takes drama, computing and maths; got really bullied in like,,, years 7-9 but now just sticks to his friend group and is fine; his hobby is annoying his teachers and is a bit of a class clown; turns the wifi setting off on the school computers and plays the google dinosaur game in lessons even though he's literally doing computing alevel; somehow always gets away with not doing his homework; the only weeb in the entire school, is angry about that fact constantly; drinks way too much monster energy, he's 50% of the local corner shop's profit

semi eita - takes music, maths, and business; you think he only took music because people think its an easy subject but he's genuinely good at it and is predicted an A*; every girl in younger years has a crush on him and it worries him; he lives in the music block; had a year 8 emo phase and will murder you if you bring it up; drinks the white monster more than he drinks water; sort of tiktok famous for his bass videos and no one believes he's british; also probably a skater

bokuto koutarou - takes PE, english and drama but is Struggling in english; wears a coat every single day, even if its boiling hot; plays subway surfers on his phone in study periods and somehow never gets caught; has popular friends but prefers his other friends; slaps his mates ass in the PE changing rooms (says no homo tho); has to type his exams because his handwriting is too messy; has a love-hate relationship with his teachers; buys custard donuts from the local supermarket every morning

FUKURODANI

akaashi keiji - takes RS, french, classics and english AS; the one guy you've never spoken to but trust more than anyone you know; every teacher wants him for their subject on open evening; really needs a nap. seriously get the boy some sleep; no one thought he was attractive until like year 9 - 10 and is now just The pretty boy; goes to costa every day before school and somehow can afford that; mentors year 10s in english and french and looks like he hates every second of it

OTHER

astumu miya - does PE, business and computing, is still useless at programming; loudly and carelessly discusses his sex life with no shame whatsoever; looks really good in the suit and just in general but makes you hate yourself for thinking that; he would get a perm. he would; on the rugby team and threatens to rugby tackle everyone constantly; does hard drugs at parties; tries to chat up any alt / goth / grunge girl he sees even thought they all immediately hate him

sakusa kiyoomi - takes PE, biology and sociology; got bullied for being a germaphobe but never gave two shits about it; rude as shit to all the roadmen but is generally chill with anyone else; one of very few people who wore a black suit and it looks damn good; somehow got into the popular-but-not-quite-roadmen group by sixth form; brings his own hot lunch in like a thermos because the school food is nasty but he needs hot lunch; just wears like a t shirt, jeans and a leather jacket on non-uniform days but somehow looks like a god

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mzenvs3000 · 4 years ago

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So does this make me an interpreter now?

If I am honest, I feel I have had a love hate relationship with this course over this semester. Coming from a more scientific background, I have found it slightly difficult to find the motivation to write and put together “my thoughts” on the topics we discuss in class. I am so used to having explicit facts and having to write about those from a scientific approach, so trying to put together a post about my thoughts with such freedom has been a challenge. I have appreciated though throughout the semester how writing got a bit easier, and that we were able to talk on subjects that were interesting to us. I will definitely be taking some skills away from my time in this course.

One of many photos taken of water and rocks (Lake Ontario) as it is another huge love of mine. Photo taken by myself.

Like many who are taking part in this class have a love for nature, and are probably coming from a major with some type of nature encompassed in it. This is true in my case, as I am a wildlife biology and conservation student. Wildlife biology and conservation is just one side of my love for nature. Others include marine studies, geology, and geography/landforms. This would open up so many doors in the nature interpretation field for me. I also have passion for the care and protection of animals, species at risk, climate change, plastic pollution, and how humans interact with nature in their everyday lives, similar to Jacob Rodenburg who wrote the article, “Why Environmental Educators Shouldn’t Give up Hope.”

A shell fossil found in a rock at the Elora Gorge while on a field trip with my geography class in third year. We were trying to interpret the history of the area, guessing it was a marine environment from all of the marine fossils found in the rocks. Photo taken by myself.

As an interpreter, I feel there is a certain responsibility I have when working with an audience. The first responsibility being the need to deliver creditable information that your audience can trust. This struck me as important when we were learning about nature interpretation in history. This is something I always seek out when learning about different things because I want to make sure what I’m learning is true and has some merit behind it.

I took my Alberta friend on a Hamilton waterfall tour as she did not believe me when I told her Hamilton was the waterfall capital of the world. An example of one of my first “interpretation tours.” (She was impressed). Photo taken by Jenna Stetz.

Another important responsibility is for the interpreter to put their own spin on their presentation and make it personal. I have lost count of the number of presentations I’ve had to listen to when someone is just reading off of a slide or a card. I don’t know about you, but I feel like when I hear these kinds of presentations, the presenter doesn’t really care too much and doesn’t seem to care if their audience gets a good experience or not. I always learn better and pay attention the most if someone shares a personal story that relates to the content. An example of this was recently I was in a course that was preparing me to apply to be a fire ranger this summer. I could instantly tell that my instructor was passionate about his job as a fire ranger with the number of stories he would tell. One story was to emphasize the importance of safety. He told the story about him and two other crew members messing around while chopping down some small trees to kill time, and they made a competition around it. His crew leader decided to take part and wasn’t paying attention and ended up getting an axe in his shin. He made this boring 2 hour long safety module more interesting and engaging by telling this story. When putting your own spin on it, it allows the audience to engage much more, as well as being relatable.

One last responsibility I feel is of importance is that as interpreters we have almost like a duty to pass on knowledge of certain things, not allowing them to be forgotten about. I take great pride in this, knowing that I might have an influence on the future “me’s” one day to share this information with others. We have to remember we are not just passing on knowledge of the environment and nature, but also cultural beliefs and practices too. I mentioned in a previous post about how it is important to learn from the past, and we cannot do this unless we actually know what happened in the past. I personally love just even sharing my scientific and nature knowledge with my friends and family who do not have this as a background, and take pride in the fact that I am able to help educate them on this subject.

Photo of my mom and I at the cottage, as she is making sure I was exposed to the outdoors as early as possible. Photo taken by my dad, Dave Zarnke.

An approach that I would make sure to include in my interpretation is to be able to share with a diverse audience. This would include different age categories, different cultural backgrounds, different knowledge backgrounds and understanding on the subject, as well as learning styles that people possess. This is important to consider because knowing these different factors would affect how you would conduct the presentation to make it the most effective. With different ages there is a different level of understanding so when I would present something to a younger audience, I would make sure to use lots of examples and simple terms they could easily understand, compared to an older audience where I could potentially use more complex terms and concepts. Knowing the cultural and knowledge backgrounds may also determine the content you wish to speak on and the approach you take.

Personally I am a visual and tactile learner, and find it easiest to teach and interpret in this way. During an interpretation I would probably include many visual aids such as photos, videos, and live models to share with the audience. I would encourage the audience to take part in demonstrations and actively participate throughout the presentation. I have also found that through my school life I learn best when examples are given, or thought provoking questions are asked. When information is presented in this way it helps me to compare an example to real life and make those connections, and the thought provoking questions challenge me to take time to digest and organize all that I have learned to put it all together.

Something I think that may set me a part from many interpreters is what I believe and my faith. I am a christian (and like to think of myself as a christian scientist) which can be quite difficult at some times trying to study my major in a secular setting due to different beliefs. The main one would be how the world was created. I believe that there is one true God who created this world, everything in it, and the species we see today are the same and looked the same when the world was created 6000 years ago. This belief and faith of mine plays a huge role in my life, influencing most and if not all of my decisions, so it would be important to me to include this in my interpretations. I would not share or teach others something that I don’t believe in. This would probably lead to me interpreting to a different audience or have a different approach in my interpretations as these beliefs are not the same as what secular science believes and teaches, as well as most organizations. If this were to be a career of mine I would have to work for an organization whose beliefs are the same.

Photo of the Oakville waterfront taken from a walk with friends one afternoon after church. Photo taken by myself.

I believe that as an interpreter, I would ensure to create programs specifically directed towards kids because I have experienced the benefits of taking part in these programs personally. We have learned a bit about how technology is a double edged sword. On one hand, it can be a great tool for nature interpretation, playing sounds, videos, or even in our case currently creating podcasts we can share over the internet. The downfall is that they are also causing people and especially kids to be very disconnected these days. I have lost count the number of times I will see kids with their parents just out and about, completely ignoring their parents just fully consumed in what is on their screen, and these kids are as young as even four years old. I didn’t know what a computer was til I was way older than that, and never received one myself until even later. I think it is so important to raise awareness of these environmental issues to kids and get them involved so they gain interest early in life and can be a part of the solution for their generation.

Before this course I really never pictured myself ever leading an interpretation or even writing about nature as I am more of a research oriented person and not so much as a writer. Taking the time I have to write this post and reflect on what this could look like for me really opened my eyes and allowed me to picture myself actually do this. I reflected back to many memories when I was growing up and took part in nature interpretations as a kid (and honestly never made the connection that I was taking part in an interpretation), just emphasizing one of my points about the importance of getting kids involved. I think nature interpretation can be for anyone to take part in, either leading or listening as we all see things differently with a different lens. This has been a great opportunity and I will definitely be taking these skills I’ve learned with me as I continue in my own nature interpretation.

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nefoe-dd · 4 years ago

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Cave Crawling - A Very Succulint Introduction post

This took me way too damn long to finish, I started this like a week ago. (For any non-zablr/irl followers, this for an rp, you can ignore it lol) I’m sorry its so wordy

Name: Lyent, but they usually just go by ‘Lent’. They are pronounced the same way

Age: Unknown even to themselves (Around 20)

Gender & Sexuality: Agender, Aromantic, Bisexual

Pronouns: It/They

Species: Half Warden and Half……something humanoid (They really do not want to think about how that worked). Their more human-shaped parent IS half-human but is unsure of what exactly the other half is (again, pls don’t think too deeply about how that worked).

Physical Appearance: Very blue, cool colour scheme. Short cyan hair, blue eyes, just a whole lotta blue. Covers up their hybrid traits, but they are more willing to openly show them when they are alone or around trusted individuals. Has antenna that they try to hide with their hair, and that weird stomach mouth thing that they’ve started getting used to covering up.

Usual Clothing Style: Lots of loose coats and sweaters that cover as much of their body as possible. Wears mostly blue and black for camouflage purposes. Carries a bag with them wherever they go just in case they run into some items that they want to collect. Needs glasses or sunglasses very desperately but cannot get them because they hate staying up at the surface for an extended period of time. They can see fine when in the dark but any natural light is bad, synthetic is on thin ice. There’s another shirt they have with just an open area or hole in the stomach for when they’re just chilling.

How did we get here (origin): Was born and grew up in a place where the deep dark has existed for much longer than most places. They grew up entirely underground, within a small established civilization of other Warden hybrids. It is far away from the old lands of the DreamSMP, where the old stories have managed to spread, largely through the written word. (Other info is yet to be revealed :) )

Occupation: Bookkeeper, owned a library at the outskirts of their old town. There was a storeroom in the back with banned books and artefacts that they found. Most of which were discovered buried underground, and very damaged. However, once they realized why they were being destroyed, they make frequent trips close to the surface in order to find more. These newer ones are in slightly better condition, but not by much, they were obviously trying to get rid of them for a reason. Tries to transcribe any information they do find with better materials, like the people in those stories deserve. They also enjoy building but has not had much experience in that field.

Personality: Very quiet, secretive, and generally tries to be as polite as possible. Once used to a new environment, however, they are more likely to openly show their emotions along with more body language. Would much rather agree with and show support for an argument than argue with the opposing side themselves. Tends to self-isolate, sometimes unintentionally, and appreciates being dragged out of it, even if they complain. They enjoy one-sided conversations, where the other person just kinda, talks at them about their interests.

Skills: Writing and reading are really the only things they’re good at. Give them an axe and they will use it, but only after falling over a few times first. Would much prefer acting as support if the need for physical conflict arises. They can memorize things rather easily, however, so you only need to ask something of them once and they can do it. Proficient in calligraphy, they can do some forgery as well but has refrained for the most part in order to avoid potential repercussions. It also hasn’t had much use...especially considering they have been trying to avoid misinformation.

Other Facts & Random Details: They can be a massive perfectionist, oftentimes subtly passing responsibility on someone else if they cannot do something right the first time. Despises warm temperatures, it is typically colder the farther down they go, so even venturing through a plains biome on the surface can be too much. They would rather pay someone for materials than go to the nether themselves. (It doesn’t help that the nether is the reason why they are in this situation in the first place) The only reason they do go sometimes is that people use it as another dumping grounds for things they want to get rid of, which they collect. Has never been to the end, and as such has only heard stories of it. Really likes the sunset and sunrise, they’ve never gotten to see them until very recently. It’s also one of the only times they can stand to be on the surface because of reduced light levels and temperatures. Hates hypocrites, but can sometimes fall into the pitfall of being one themselves. Prefers non-fiction, particularly history, geography, and biology.

Skin: I’ve only done one of the two outfits so far

#zablr #zablr syndicate au

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typicalmidnightsoul · 4 years ago

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Prythian Valley - Chapter 2

Family first?

A big belief amongst people is that until a body is found a missing victim is still alive. But what if the proof that they are dead is photographs of a lifeless body cruelly shared to haunt the minds of the victims loved ones? The murder of the Beddor’s didn’t start with Clare, it ended with her. In this story Nesta will have to ditch the Ice Queen’s crown and take on the guilt of losing her best friend.

Will one choice of Nesta’s mean death either way?

“Nesta! Nesta!”

Nesta’s eyes opened groggily to see Jonah shaking her awake.

“Hey Jo-Jo what do you need?”

She had come home and fallen asleep on the couch; she looked up at the clock, it read 5:45.

“We’re having a sleepover Nes, you said you’d pick up Nyx!”

She groaned reaching for her heels, “Has Eris dropped Caro off?”

He nodded and a small redhead came in the living room saying,

“Hi Nes,” Caroline smiled; she was Beron’s worst regret, Eris’ most important being and Clarissa Vanserra’s pride.

Nesta grinned at her, “Hey Caro, you settling in?”

She nodded and Nesta turned to Jonah,

“I’ll go pick up Nyx now and Alec should be arriving with Alis any minute so let them in ok?”

He nods ushering her out of the room.

She rolls her eyes and gets into her into her Chevy.

As she pulls up in front of the Narenz villa she sees a pair of excited blue eyes throwing the door open.

“You’re here!”

She ran into Nesta’s arms, as Azriel came out.

“Sorry Az,” she called out, “I fell asleep on the couch.”

He shook his head “it’s fine.” He looked down at Nyx,

“Don’t hassle Nesta too much, ok?” she nodded and Az turned to Nesta, laughing, “How long do you think this sleepover will go for?”

“Well it’s meant to be for 3 days, but considering the last one went on for a week, get ready for Nyx to call you in 3 days’ time begging to stay longer.”

He laughed and kissed Nyx’s cheek, “See you sis.”

Nyx rolled her eyes and got into the passenger seat, “Bye then.”

Nesta chuckled and gave Az a fleeting hug.

As she drove back to her villa she glanced at Nyx,

“So Nyxie, had your first kiss yet?”

“No, I’m just not feeling it with anyone.”

“Good girl,” she said, “First kisses are meant to be important.”

They were silent for a long time, until Nyx said,

“How did you cope?”

Nesta gave her a confused look, “Pardon?”

“When your dad died, and you’re mom went MIA and Feyre had to take care of your family, how did you cope?”

One of the reasons why Nesta loved children was because they were so outspoken, they stated things for how they were, and didn’t mince words. Nesta’s heart broke a bit as she remembered Rhys telling Feyre that he was trying to get Nyx to me their comatose mother in the hospital.

“I didn’t. I broke down completely, shutting out everyone. I wouldn’t have been able to come back if I didn’t have friends and siblings who pulled me out I don’t think I would be driving you today.”

Nesta looked at her, “Can I confide in you?”

Nyx nodded earnestly, “I know what it’s like to look for answers to beg the whole universe for them and never get any. I am grateful for my mom, and I know that I am so lucky to have her but sometimes I get so scared and one of the reasons why I hate Feyre was because she had promised mom she’d take care of us then… she just kind of took her place. And there will never be any-“

“Substitute for mom,” Nyx finished for her.

Nesta smiled despite the words being exchanged,

“My Aunt told me this when I was about your age, and now I’m telling you. The world is in desperate need of people like us. People who feel in extremes, the world needs to be reminded that not all females will put up with men’s bullshit, that we are freshly forged blades able to cut and will at any given chance. I let that die away once Nyxie. Don’t do that.”

She pulled up to Pop’s, Nyx tilted her head, “Um are we-“

“C’mon, I think we both deserve a shake after that.”

As they waited for their order, Nesta playfully tugged one of Nyx’s locks,

“Nyxie?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you go visit your mom? Please? I promise that Rhysand didn’t put me up for this, if anything he probably hates me too much to even talk to me.”

“You don’t know what it’s like to see her like that Nes, she looks like a-“

Nesta could hear the unsaid words, corpse.

Nesta held her hands, “Please, just put a hand on her heart to remember she’s alive, just healing. Talk to her. Let her know you’re there.”

It wasn’t until they were back in the car that Nyx said,

“When I go to visit her I’m going to tell her about you.”

Nesta smiled, when not if.

“Tell her how much I love you and that I can’t wait to meet her.”

----------

Nesta was doing her biology homework when she got a text from Adelaide.

Meet me in my study.

She groaned trudging down the stairs past the giggles and laughs in Jonas’s room.

She walked in going, “Yes mom?”

“Leona called, telling me you were planning to send Jonah to Chicago.”

Nesta inwardly groaned, “Uh, yeah. Forgot about that.”

“It is a good plan Nes, but how in hell are you going to get Jonah to agree to it?”

“He has to.”

“Forcing something like this on him will make him think of himself as a criminal.”

“That’s what the world will see him as if we don’t get him out of the Valley now.”

“Nesta how do we know he will be safe? Will people not think of him with suspiscion if he does leave?”

Nesta crossed her arms at her mother,

“Jonah is going to Chicago with Leo and that’s final. Leo will take care if him, she would never allow anything bad to happen to him.”

Her mother opened her mouth but the study door burst open,

“You can’t take Jonah away from me!” Nyx pleaded at Nesta.

But Jonah held up a hand and stepped toward his older sister.

There was fear, Nesta realized in her 14 year old brother’s silver eyes as he looked up at her and asked,

“Is it because I killed Tomas Mandray?”

Nyx gasped and Caroline who stood in the doorway dropped the phone in her hand.

Nesta looked around at the mess her brother had incited with 7 words. She looked down at him,

“Shush Jonah! You did no such thing!” she shook him slightly.

He moved out of her grip, “I did! My friends will understand if I tell them the truth.”

Caroline moved into the room,

“Tell us. Please.”

Nesta looked at her mother. Adelaide nodded.

Nesta ushered them closer,

“Tomas Mandray is a bad man. He tried to rape me.”

And there it was the motive simple and clear.

“He drugged me and tied me to a bed in a hotel room. Jonah had been looking for me and used the ‘find my friend’ app to track down my phone. Tomas’ gun was on the table and Jonah picked it up and pulled the trigger in order to save me. We had to clean up the scene so a friend of mine, Ronan, he disposed the body. We drove his truck into the river. The same truck that was found 2 days ago.”

Nyx and Caro were sitting in silence on either side of Jonah as he tried to gauge their reaction.

“That bastard deserved it.” Nyx said at last.

Nesta could feel the wave of relief that went through Jonah.

“I need your complete confidence, I know your brothers and Eris is deeply loyal to me,” she turned to Nyx, “As is Azriel. Trust me when I tell you that if explained to them they will not allow you to betray me.”

Caro and Nyx exchanged looks and turned to Nesta and nodded.

“Go finish your slumber party.”

They all sprinted off.

----

Cassian rolled his neck back. 2 hours had flown past as he finished his geography homework. He sensed a small figure behind him,

“Hey Nyx, you need something?”

He expected Nyx to snap at him, but he sure as hell didn’t expect her to say,

“Can Nesta trust you?”

Cassian sat up looking at her, “Nesta? Why-“

“What are you capable of doing for her?”

Nyx’s eyes were red and he answered her question, “I would do anything for her.”

“What I’m about to ask you…you can’t tell anyone.” She stood up straighter, “Or I’ll deny it and say it was for creative writing club.”

He nodded.

“If I told you Nesta was hurt almost hurt badly by a man what would you do?”

Cassian’s eyes took on a feral look, “You wouldn’t like it. He’d be dead by the time I was done.”

Nyx nodded and then said, “And if I told you my best friend did something terrible to protect his sister that is now tearing both siblings up?”

Cassian looked up, “Come sit here and tell me the whole story.”

----

It didn’t take Cassian long to find the wine red 1959 Chevrolet corvette c1that belonged to Nesta parked in front of Pop’s.

She came out in her cape coat and black heels. The air outside was hot and she stopped before her car taking off the cape coat and throwing it with the food in the passenger seat, revealing a short skirt and a tightly clinging white full sleeved shirt with black detailing on the cuffs and down the button line, a black string bow on top.

He silently walked towards her grabbing her figure and hauling her to the back of Pop’s.

“How dare you-“

Hazel eyes bore into hers. The same hazel eyes that lingered in her dreams, oh to say she knew the well would be an understatement. She drowned in them.

“Cassian this is no way-“

“Why didn’t you tell me?” his voice was pained.

Realization dawned on her face, “Nyx told you.”

“Only because Jonah has not been himself at school and she didn’t want to tell you because you’re already handling too much.”

Nesta’s eyes softened, “I…its ok.”

She tried to walk away before Cassian pressed his weight into her.

“Don’t you dare.”

He tilted her chin up, “Baby is this why you were crying?”

Nesta said quietly, “I have to protect Jonah. The way he protected me, the Mandray’s are a huge family if-“

“So are the Archeron’s… and the Narenz’s. We would’ve protected you, and Jonah…”

Nesta’s eyes hardened, “Try telling that to my guidance counsellor in LA who asked me ‘what I was wearing?’ and if I was ‘flirtatious in any way?’ and to ‘let it go, because it’s just sex.’”

Cassian gaped at her. “They- wha… they said that?”

The look on her face confirmed it.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Nesta’s own arms wrapped around herself trying to keep from breaking.

She slowly pushed Cassian away saying she needed to go. He walked her to her car and then Cassian got a call.

He picked up, “Hey Feyre.”

“Hey, um could you come over? Like now please, Rhysand was here and he’s well… drunk off his ass and now he needs a ride home.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and Nesta snatched the phone from him,

“What happened to you revising for your test tomorrow Fey? You promised Mom that you’d practice tonight.”

Silence until, “CASSIAN HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME MY SISTER WAS RIGHT THERE!”

Cassian laughed saying, “You should go revise Feyre. I’m on my way.”

He cut the call glancing at Nesta, “Seems like I’ll be following you.”

Nesta shook her head and slid in the seat.

--------

As Cassian (not so delicately) shoved Rhys into the passenger seat, Feyre slightly shoved Nesta.

“Ask him!”

“No.”

“Please!!!” Feyre pouted.

“No!!”

“If you don’t I’ll tell Helion and that man is a devil so you have no idea what he might do.”

Nesta gaped at her little sister.

Cassian strode up to them, “You two ok?”

Feyre raised a brow and then said brightly, “Cassian! Nesta needs to ask you for a favour! I’ll go check on Rhys.”

Nesta tried to stifle her groan.

Cassian gave her a questioning look, “What do you need?”

“Helion forced me and my friends to join the school newspaper, and the article Luna and I were working on is contributing to Women’s day, so Feyre mentioned that you are sponsoring a shelter for Illyrian women, I was just wondering if you could maybe get us an interview with some of them?”

Cassian looked taken aback, “Um, yeah sure.”

Nesta gave him a tight smile, “Great! See you at the office first thing in the morning.”

She turned hoping that some vengeful bird shits on Feyre’s shoulder in the morning.

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

Cassian knocked on the office door.

“Come in!”

He walked in, looking around. There were 4 desks in the middle joined so it looked like 3 sides of a rectangle.

Nesta was at the longer side talking to a guy who sat the side desk.

He sat in front of her, “Nice office.”

Nesta waved him off, “Credit goes to Helion. Anyway, Cassian meet Andras, Lucien’s boyfriend.”

Andras shook his hand, “Just call me Andy.”

“Andras is working on the Hero’s day article. He’ll be going around and talking to local heroes.”

Andras turned his chair to Cassian, “Captain I was thinking of trying out for the football team, and since you’re the jury…”

Cassian looked him up and down, “You have the physique, now it’s just about your performance.”

“So being Nesta’s friend won’t give me an easier path in?”

Cassian laughed as Nesta rolled her eyes, “No, but it’ll probably prevent me from kicking you out.”

At that minute Audrey stepped in,

“Nes, Principal Smith needs a word about the school drama.”

Nesta nodded, "Play nice boys.” She said as she stepped out.

The school was quiet, its occupants still not arrived considering the early hour. As Cassian leaned back Andras said,

“So… you and Nesta, huh?”

“I wish.” He mumbled.

“Any advice for try-outs?”

As Cassian gave him advice the caretaker stepped in wedging in a big envelope in the office’s postal rack. He left wordlessly.

Nesta came back in Audrey in tow. As she passed the rack she asked,

“Did this just come?”

“Uh…yeah,” Andras said.

“Nesta Archeron, Blue and Silver office.” She read out the front, ripping it open.

She took out an odd looking letter made from cut up magazine headlines and Newspaper letters. It said:

You once told me you hate repeating yourself.

You managed to save your sister once. Let’s see if you can repeat yourself and save her again. She’s in my clutches…

I will avenge my loved ones… My vengeance started when Clare came to meet me on the River banks. Blood flowed then and it will now.

The real question is will you, Nesta Archeron put

Family first?

Nesta put a hand over her mouth. Audrey’s hand came around her.

Andras and Cassian’s faces were etched with horror.

Andras pointed a shaky finger at the envelope where a bump was.

Nesta took the envelope, turned it over and shook it.

As Metal clanged on the table Nesta took a step back and let out a breathless sound.

Clare Beddor’s Locket given to her by Nesta on her Sweet sixteenth, where on one side was their friends and the other side a family portrait now lay on the table, blood coating it. A locket that came from a body which was never found. Only photos sent to Clare’s guardian, her aunt were the only evidence that Clare was dead.

But now… the locket meant…

It meant that this letter was sent by Clare’s killer.

Coming up next:

As they were in chemistry the sheriff, Thesan’s dad came in.

“Miss Archeron you’ll need to come with us.”

Beside her Thesan stood up.

“Why dad? You’re gonna take one of my best friends away like a criminal?”

Nesta held up a hand , “It’s fine Thesan I know why.”

“Why Nesta?” Luna asked as Audrey stood up.

“Because I’m guilty.”

Tags:: @skychild29 @aesthetics-11 @perseusannabeth @awesomelena555

#nessian fanfic #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian

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writethehousedown · 4 years ago

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We've Got Time To Kill, Baby (Kyara) - Zyan

A/N: day two is here! And I decided to go to the Hurt/Comfort route. Don’t worry, it does have a happy ending. Ish. Sideblog is @dollalpaca !

Summary: With their senior year comes the typical question of ‘what are you doing to study afterwards?’ and Kiara is starting to feel stressed out as months pass and she doesn’t have an answer.

TW - anxiety and general self loathing.

When she was in fifth year, Kiara rarely saw the seniors stay through the entire evening, or just appear sometimes - legend had it not even the teachers cared whether you came or not, and sometimes not even them bothered to give classes, unless they were the assigned tutors for the internships.

She hoped and prayed that would be their case, not only because she wanted to spend more time with her friends outside school hours and live her last year to the fullest, but due to the fact that Kiara had no clue whatsoever of what to study after High School, and it was starting to stress her out. Everyone else seemed to have their shit figured out; Priyanka was going to be a primary school teacher, Tynomi would study law, Juice had already begun training for the physical education admission exam, and of course Kyne would go on to be a mechanical engineer - she had the brains for that, she’d be great at it.

As far as options went, Kiara was completely blank - she had no drive for anything, well, she did have a couple hobbies, but none of them were carreers she could pursue in college and excel at. And it’s not like she could take a year off to find out what she could do, in this time and economy? That wasn’t an option. She had to study something, even if it was just a teaching career, she couldn’t waste her time.

Her anxiety looms at the back of her mind everytime another teacher asks what are they going to follow once class ends, sometimes reminiscing when they were barely twelve, trying to get used to High School life, running around the hallways and playing football and voleyball, sometimes breaking windows and fluorescent lights with their games.

Though Kiara remembers those times with fondness, she’d rather not be reminded of it shortly after almost snapping at her own teacher because she has no idea what she’ll do and she’d prefer if he just did his job and taught them about geography.

The bell echoes through the hallways, indicating the start of their second recess and the end of another dreadful class of Spanish. Kiara somehow managed to not bang her head open against the desk everytime the teacher spoke - it’s not that the class it’s boring, it’s just so that she’s painfully mysoginistic and thinks she’s funny when she’s not.

“What did she say about an essay? I zoned out,” Kiara asks, turning to see Rita, who, unsusprisingly so, has all the class written down in her agenda. Rita cocks a brow, and without saying anything lets Kiara take a photo of everything she wrote down. “Thanks, love,” she says, blowing a kiss on her direction.

“Sometimes I think you befriended me just because I let you copy my homework without saying anything,” Rita teases, packing her stuff back into her bag. Kiara gasps, faux offended.

“Hey! You’re more than just an escape goat for when I don’t do homework,” Kiara protests, “with that reasoning, I’m only dating Kyne because she does my math tests for free.”

“The fuck you mean free? I’ve been telling you since last year to pay me in cash or I’ll break up with you,” Kyne butts in the conversation, perching herself against Kiara and Rita’s shared desk with a brow cocked. Kiara rolls her eyes with a sly smile.

“If I take you out for dinner on Friday instead of having you come over and order take out like we always do, will you forget my debts?” She inquires, fluttering her eyelashes and giving her a sneaky smile, knowing fully well she can get away with anything when she looks at Kyne like this. And sure enough, Kyne’s annoyed expression soon is replaced with a grin, accepting the proposal - only if she gets to choose where they’re going.

Rita, knowing she’s third-wheeling, rises from her seat and goes up to Scarlett - who, despite being well over 30°C, brought their set of mate - and strikes up a conversation with them and Priyanka.

Kyne quickly sits where Rita was just moments ago, scooting the chair closer and easily lacing her fingers with Kiara’s, but before they can continue their conversation, Boa and Starzy burst into the room with huge smiles, annoucing loudly that their biology teacher isn’t coming, so they can go home early. There’s a collective sigh of relief, because they had a presentation today and no one actually finished their presentations - well, except for the know-it-alls of the class, that is.

“Anyone wanna go to the park and drink mate?” Scarlett exclaims as they’re leaving, their pink flask poking out from their backpack as she trottes up to meet the girls. It takes about a second for everyone to agree, and even less time to convince the doorman to let them go.

It’s as easy as that - no one cares about what they do anymore, if admittedly half of them are eighteen already, they should know how to take care of themselves. That’s a lie as big as a house, but hey, they get to leave and come to school whenever they feel like it, so they’re not complaining.

It’s barely 5 p.m., and the sun is still shining up in the sky. April is suppossed to be the start of Autumn, but when has Autumn ever existed in the north of Argentina? Perhaps it’s global warming, perhaps it’s that Pachamama just doesn’t want them to get a break from the heat - whatever it is, they find themselves sitting on the grass under a large tree, and sooner than later they sent off the boys to buy something to drink (either alcohol or juice, they’re not complaining) because they’ll be damned if all they have to drink is Scarlett’s scorching hot mates.

“You all are just fucking cowards,” Scarlett says, pulling out their set and preparing themselves another mate.

“Just because you’ve burnt your tongue so many times you’ve lost all ability to feel anything, doesn’t mean we wanna go that same route,” Ilona deadpans, though just a minute later she’s asking Scarlett to prepare her one too.

The conversation flows easily between them, and from time to time they cheer the boys on their improvised game of football (though they do wonder where did they get the ball from on the first place) before laughing when one of them falls to the ground - which is fairly often.

“Sometimes I find it hard to believe that one of these airheads is applying for med school along with me,” Rita comments, sipping on the mate when it’s her turn.

“Wait, what?” Kiara says, turning to look at Rita. “Which one of these dumbasses is applying to med school with you?” She asks, baffled, and Rita proceeds to explain how Samuel had approached her during summer to ask where is she applying for med school, and when he found out they were aiming for the same college, he had decided they had to study together once the applications opened.

Kiara blinks repeatedly, once, twice, until she’s just blankly staring at Rita for a second longer than intended. Before it gets uncomfortable, she makes a quirky joke about being sorry for whoever ends up being Samuel’s patient if he manages to get into med school, and she sighs in relief when they giggle and move on.

It’s not that she doesn’t trust them enough to tell them about the anxiety that bubbles up in her stomach when she thinks about the future, the fear and guilt that consumes her at the thought of being a burden to her parents while she figures out what to do with her life, being one more mouth to feed in such difficult times — it’s just that, she doesn’t want to bother anyone with her feelings, so she keeps it all in, hoping it’ll eventually go away.

They spend almost all evening long together, and Kiara is thankful that they don’t bring up the future again.

***

The sun is setting when they say goodbye, and Kyne insists to walk her home - it’s not unusual for her to do so, if she practically lives in her house, anyway, but as they walk with their hands intertwined, Kiara feels a different air surrounding them. Like a heavy tension.

“Kiki?”

“Hm?”

Kyne comes to a stop, inevitably stopping Kiara too, and gives her a look Kiara is all too familiar with, making her shiver immediately - oh no.

“You’ve been acting weird lately, is everything okay?” She asks softly, tentatively, and Kiara’s heart sinks. Oh no. This isn’t happening.

She knows that technically she can confide Kyne with everything, that she’ll help her as much as she can with anything she needs, because that’s what couples do. But Kyne has always known how her future will be, at which college she’ll go and all she has to do to achieve her dreams. Between the two of them, she’s the one with more clarity, so getting her to understand her problems would take a lot of words and emotions Kiara isn’t quite ready to unveil.

So she plasters on a smile and nods curtly.

“Everything’s great. I’m good,” she lies through gritted teeth, but Kyne can clearly see through her facade, cocking a skeptical brow as soon as the words leave Kiara’s mouth.

Kyne squeezes her hand, coming closer to her. “You’re a terrible liar,” she says, smiling gently. “If we buy bizcochos on our way to your house, and we eat them on your garden, would that cheer you up?” She offers, making Kiara smile. It’s such a silly, tiny thing, but Kyne knows it always cheers her up, so she accepts, and they roam around the town to get to the only bakery that bakes tasty bizcochos, in Kiara’s opinion.

They barely speak, because Kyne knows to not push Kiara to speak when she doesn’t want to, and right now there’s not much Kiara can say without getting choked up.

It’s significantly darker when they arrive to Kiara’s house, and, naturally, her parents haven’t arrived yet from their jobs, and her little siblings are fighting for the remote - Kyne says hi to Marisa and Alan before they sneak off to Kiara’s room to get changed from their sweaty uniforms.

They settle on Kiara’s little garden, her mother’s pride and joy when Kiara was a child, when life was easier and she wasn’t so self-conscious about the economical crisis going on and money wasn’t as tight. Sometimes, just sitting there and eating any type of snack brings her memories of planting all kinds of flowers with her mother once spring arrived - carrying with it warmer days, flowers in bloom and the need to use mosquito repelent almost all day long.

She’d do everything to go back to those days.

It seems that her yearning shows through her expression, because Kyne silently takes her hand again, stroking the back as she nibbles on her bizcocho, her gaze absent-mindlessly wandering around. Kiara gives a heavy sigh before she speaks.

“I have no idea what I’ll do with my life,” she admits in a whisper, Kyne turns to see her almost immediately, giving her hand another squeeze, prompting her to go on. “Everyone has their shit figured out when it comes to their future, and I just— I don’t know yet. I don’t know what I’ll study, if I’ll study, if I’m just going to get a dead-end retail job to independize myself; I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll ever know. And it’s starting to stress me out.” Kiara rubs her eyelids with her free hand, sighing in exasperation.

“Not everyone has their shit figured out, Kiki, that’s not true,” Kyne says after a moment of silence, and Kiara rolls her eyes slightly, but Kyne continues before she can say anything. “Really, who has anything figured out? We’re seventeen, living in a thirld world country with an economical crisis that never really leaves. It’s a lot of pressure.”

Kiara lets a half-hearted laugh at Kyne’s comment; of course she always knows what to say, how to read her between the lines.

“But you do have your shit figured out, you’ve said you’ll be an engineer since we were thirteen. Haven’t you already applied for the scholarship at UNSTA?” She asks, trying to prove a point, but Kyne chews on her lower lip and looks away briefly.

“No, not really. I don’t even know if I’ll be an engineer anymore.”

Oh.

Kiara frowns slightly, tilting her head to give Kyne a better look. “You don’t?” She says softly, wondering if she heard wrong. But Kyne nods slowly, much to Kiara’s surprise.

“I just… I don’t feel like my heart’s in it, you know? And my dad always says I shouldn’t study something that doesn’t make me happy, because I’ll either do nothing with it or end up dropping out,” she explains, and now it’s Kiara the one that squeezes her hand as a comforting gesture.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve—” she stops mid-sentence when Kyne turns to look at her, a brow slightly cocked. “Oh,” she muses when it hits her why she kept this to herself. She didn’t want to bother anyone.

Just like Kiara didn’t want to bother anyone with her own feelings.

She blinks repeatedly, before she manages to say something. “I guess we’re on the same boat.”

“Yeah.” Kyne shifts slightly, until she’s facing Kiara. “And, y’know, we could, like, work together to get on a different boat. A nicer one,” she proposes, smiling gently. Kiara returns the smile, breathing in deeply.

“I think we can, yeah,” she breathes out, fidgetting with Kyne’s fingers, chuckling bitterly. “God, we’re seventeen, we should be worrying about what party are we gonna crash this weekend, not— not what if we fail in life once High School is over,” Kiara grumbles, and Kyne giggles shortly. “We’re such idiots, too - I should’ve probably told you sooner, it would’ve made things easier.”

Kyne clicks her tongue, scooting herself closer and planting a chaste kiss on Kiara’s lips.

“Yes, probably, but you know us; we’re the bests at being uncapable to talk about emotions and keeping things a secret. No wonder why it took so long forus to get actually together,” she jokes, making Kiara laugh shortly. Her gaze becomes softer, lacing her fingers with Kiara’s as she sighs. “I still want you to promise me you’ll tell me when something is bothering you, yeah? You can always tell me anything,” Kyne says earnestly, and Kiara wonders what did she do to deserve such an amazing girlfriend.

“I promise,” she says, “For example, now I feel like these are enough feelings for one day, and I’ll much rather prefer if we went back to eating bizcochos before I cry.” Her upbeat tone makes Kyne laugh, but she still pulls her closer and steals a quick kiss from her, resting her arms on her waist.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

tags: argentina hs au, hurt/comfort

#rpdr fanfiction #kyara #kyne #kiara #rita baga #scarlett bobo #ilona verley #we've got time to kill baby #zyan #argentina hs au #hurt/comfort #back to school 2020 #day 2: desk #submission

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lichenthrope9 · 4 years ago

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Artist’s statement: Ys, or, Borrowed from the Sea

A shortcut to mushrooms

My interest in alternate worlds was piqued when I first read The Hobbit, and the first two volumes of Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring. The maps, the histories, the biographical information and allusions to genealogies, the languages and cultures and very real, lived-in countries, the sense of geography in that the story took place as much between points of interest as it did within points of interest, simulating the time it took to travel between cities – all of these factors hooked me as much as the story had. It is from the world of Middle Earth and the history and accidents of its construction that I derived much of my inspiration for this project.

However, as we must with all our favorite creators, I returned to the Lord of the Rings with a more critical eye years later. After coming out as transgender, going through a long health crisis, beginning to critique my own whiteness, and reading a lot more about philosophy and social science theories, I had more tools and lenses through which to critique the premises on which Tolkien wrote the darling of English fantasy literature.

It seemed Middle Earth was a project born out of Tolkien’s devout Catholicism, and the cosmology of Middle Earth heavily reflected Tolkien’s own interpretation of Catholic teachings. There were angels and fallen angels, and a battle between them on the physical world that took it off track from the plans of the all-knowing Eru Ilúvatar (Tolkien‘s analogy for the Father). This would all be well and good in theory, if Tolkien hadn‘t taken a step further and made ”Good“ and ”Evil“ sentient races, created by individual angels with certain aesthetics and moral philosophies in mind that would irrevocably be tied to the bloodline of each of these races. This already has problematic implications for Tolkien‘s racial frame, but to make matters worse, he based certain fantasy races on certain groups of humans on Earth.

So, with these pitfalls in mind, I put my initial worldbuilding efforts not into creating languages and cultures, but rather creating a planet that they could live on, that could feasibly exist in our galaxy. I didn‘t include magic in its formation, I didn‘t use a mythic structure at first. I didn‘t even know if I wanted to populate my world until I had an entire solar system. I knew things like the luminosity, age, and mass of the star, the distance between the star and planet, the length of the year and day, the axial tilt of the habitable planet, how all of that would affect the seasons and climate, and how far away the moon was and what it would look like from sea level on my planet. I knew how deep the oceans were and I even had some speculative biology plotted out for how life would come to be on this planet. My idea was, I wanted to make a hard scifi world (within reason – I‘m not Andy Weir) and then drape a cloak of high fantasy on it, almost a bit more like Dune by Frank Herbert than Lord of the Rings.

My readiness to populate my planet with peoples and histories neatly coincided with the beginning of my Purchase career. I was no geologist, geographer, meteorologist or astronomer. Though I was certainly interested in how ores were distributed in my planet‘s crust, how coastlines and climates developed, and how the sky would appear from the surface from my world, the central focus had always been and would always be how these things would all affect my fictional societies and their growth. What would it be like to grow up on a world where the moon appears so much larger than the sun? A world where the solar year is just a bit over 639 Earth days? Would it be possible, given different historical circumstances, to achieve a Type 1 or 2 Kardashev civilization? How would such a civilization come about politically?

Worldbuilding as anthropological exploration

After learning of my passion for worldbuilding, a professor suggested I take a look at the 2015 presidential address to the AAA by Monica Heller, called ”Dr. Esperanto, or Anthropology as Alternative Worlds.“ In it, Heller outlines the history of perhaps the most famous constructed international auxiliary language, Esperanto, and maps its positionalities, along with those of its creator, L. L. Zamenhof, within the scope of highly anthropological inquiry. Zamenhof was situated at the precipice of many different identities; he was a Jew from Bialystok, a multilingual city which in his lifetime lived under Russian and Polish-Russian rule. His interest in creating an international auxiliary language was one of diplomacy and peacemaking in the years preceding World War I, a time where international tensions and the influences of global industrialization and capitalism were all growing ever stronger and more binding. Esperanto‘s goals have since changed slightly; on a sticker on the back of a Paris street sign in 2013, it was hailed as ”La langue internationale équitable,” marking Esperanto as the “equitable” opponent to the specifically capitalist problem of income inequality. One can only conclude that not only the language itself, but also the act of its creation by Zamenhof, was a highly political project. Heller then touches upon other forms of constructed language, ones whose purposes lie in artistic expression and exploration such as Dothraki and Sindarin. The article taught me that “the act of transportation [to an alternative world] might have unexpected consequences. But the whole endeavor will be transformative, teaching us things we would never have learned otherwise” (Heller 2015: 21).

Since finishing this article, I have embarked on a journey to ground my project in social theory. My goal began as less utopic and more experimental. It was not yet apparent to me how my politics would manifest in the work, but I still wanted to play the game: with a number of minor changes to a habitable world from Earth, and a number of restrictions in how I depict the cultures, can I keep my civilizations alive and, more importantly, ”breathing“ (that is, relatably and realistically complex enough to feel lived-in), until they reach Kardashev Type 2 status? (That is, until they can technologically harness as much energy from their home star for use as they like.) What would stories look like set in this universe, perhaps stories set in the same star system but separated by hundreds or thousands of years? And how do I responsibly depict these people without falling prey to the same ideological traps that Tolkien and Herbert did?

This new phase of my project also coincided with my renewed interest in the works of Ursula K. Le Guin and the Nickelodeon show Avatar: The Last Airbender. A:tLA stood out as a shining example of how to write a complex, colonially-charged political history between societies without directly making any one society analogous to Western Europe or Euro-American whiteness. I devoured Le Guin‘s The Left Hand of Darkness, which taught me that even tiny changes to human cultural frameworks (such as, what if there were no gender as such, and what if everybody on a planet were asexual except for a predictable period of sexual arousal and attraction?) can have vast implications for that society‘s history (Le Guin theorized that on such a planet, there would be no concept of war); and The Author of the Acacia Seeds and Other Extracts from the Journal of the Association of Therolinguistics (Le Guin‘s own term for the supposed study of animal language) which taught me that the lenses of imagination can be focused just as strongly on our nearest neighbors in the dirt as they can be on the distant stars.

I therefore decided to take a hybridized Tolkien / Le Guin – ian approach to writing the stories. I committed to ”translating“ every character‘s pronouns into the English feminine, and only gendering them at all as feminine when necessary. I also committed to writing a world history where no one ethnic group was directly analogous to Euro-American whiteness, à la AtLA. I would of course need to loosely base groups located in geoclimatic zones on similarly-located groups on Earth, or else have altogether too much work to do (deciding how much of the culture‘s development might be affected by the geography and climate; deciding on a model of anthropology on which to base my analysis of each culture, be it structural, evolutionist, structural-functional, etc.; building each cultural good, artifact, and practice in relation to every other; conducting a simulated ethnography of each of my major ethnic groups).

So, I decided to base some of my cultures on recent ethnographies and archaeological studies of geoclimatically analogous Earth ethnicities. The first of these was a master‘s thesis by Meghan Walley, ”Examining precontact Inuit gender complexity and its discursive potential for LGBTQ2S+ and decolonization movements.“ In it, Walley complicates the gendered narratives of pre-contact Inuit history by critically analyzing remains and gender-specific tool usage, and conducting interviews with living queer Inuit and their families. Walley found that Inuit-specific definitions of Two-spirit gender and sexual nonconformity had existed since long before contact with Europeans, and that queer archaeological practices were necessary if the living traditions of extant Two-spirit and queer Inuit were to be given their appropriate ontological priority over colonial narratives. I decided to use this thesis as a springboard for reading more current histories of the Inuit and other people of the far North, to embark on my project of constructing plausible cultures for the people living near my planet‘s South Pole.

The magic of semiotics

Then: a type of breakthough. Last summer I found myself reading book after book, including Tao Te Ching, the foundational text for Taoism, and How Forests Think: Toward an Anthropology Beyond the Human, Eduardo Kohn‘s posthuman ethnography of a Runa group located near Ávila in Ecuador. In it, Kohn tries to apply the semiotic theories of Charles Sanders Peirce to human groups living in rainforest settings to construct and analyze a broader, more current, postcolonial cosmology for this Runa group and its implications for other groups’ cosmologies. It was my first encounter with Peircean semiotics. Oddly, How Forests Think referred in passing to the very chapter of Tao Te Ching that had resonated with me strongest: Chapter 11, in which Laozi talks about constitutive absence, the anti-structures that permeate structure and make structure functional (the examples he gives include the empty hub of a wheel, the space inside a clay pot, and the emptiness enclosed by a room’s four walls). Kohn applies this anti-structure model to the semiotic, saying that Peirce’s types of signs can only signify when they represent things that are not present. A child buzzing their lips to imitate an airplane will only remind you of an airplane if you forget the differences between the child’s imitation and the sound it is meant to represent.

From How Forests Think and Tao Te Ching, I derived six major tenets that I would literally incorporate into my text’s lore as an ancient religion. But more than that, it got me thinking about how language and signification was a type of magic, in many ways. So, I re-incorporated magic into my story. I based the initial rules of my magic system on the postulate that this universe was not ours, in fact, but had grown out of a knowable Universal Field that could be at least partially described with a type of grammar. This Syntaxelium (designated as such both to distance it from concepts like Chomsky’s Universal Grammar and innateness hypothesis, and also to connect it more closely to ideas of networking and fungal semiosis) could be harnessed in languages that contained its features to “negotiate” with the universe. That is, if you speak a language that uses a lot of features of the Syntaxelium in a short amount of time, you are “persuading” the universe to change some of its rules, at least for enough time to grant you a wish. I decided to make this language too complex to be conservative; that is, it would evolve and diverge very quickly from any one set of rules as people used it and streamlined it. There was a constructed language I knew of that might serve perfectly: the language Ithkuil, completed by John Quijada in 2011 and so complex that nobody, not even Quijada himself, is yet fluent in it as of this writing.

Ithkuil is a philosophical-engineered language whose design goals are to be as semantically condensed and specific as possible. There is a single “formant,” or word, in Ithkuil that can be translated as “...being hard to believe, after allegedly trying to go back to repeatedly inspiring fear using rag-tag groups of suspicious-looking clowns, despite resistance” (the word itself is /qhûl-lyai’svukšei’arpîptó’ks). Quijada has offered that Ithkuil is too complex to be a natural spoken language – rather, that it is a useful tool to think about how quickly and reliably information can be condensed into linguistic frameworks. Its philosophy of meaning is (as the author himself admits) relatively Enlightenment-based – that is, there is a one-to-one correspondence of conceptual representation to some Platonic prototype of what an Ithkuil formant might mean, which is not exactly in line with the language’s design goals – but Quijada here threw up his hands: “A more careful and rigourous construction for Ithkuil’s lexico-semantics, given the author’s stated design goals…would not assume such a theory of meaning, but would rather incorporate more recent findings of cognitive science and cognitive linguistics to reflect embodied meaning and metaphor-based conceptualization. However, pursuing such a foundation for the lexico-semantics of the language would, in the author’s opinion, be extremely time-consuming (on the order of many additional years, perhaps decades, to construct)” (2011: 270-271).

I found this thoughtfully constructed masterpiece of a language perfect for my purposes and set about creating daughter languages that may have evolved from its natural use in my world. I imagined that a group of priests of the Moon Queen had created Ithkuil in-world as an attempt to access the power of the Syntaxelium and communicate with the Goddesses. These priests partially succeeded, in that their new language granted them magical powers. They did not become all-powerful, however. These new Wizard-Queens attempted to conquer the world with their magic, and largely succeeded – but once they had spread out, Ithkuil almost immediately diverged into daughter languages due to its complexity, each of these languages preserving different features of the Syntaxelium. After a few generations, the language with the most expansionist, imperial-minded speakers would conquer the world once again and spread their language into every corner of the globe. The language would diverge again, and the cycle of colonization and genocide would continue until a group of marginalized people led a revolution against their contemporary empire and broke the chain.

The politics of translation

But, at this point I was too invested in this project to continue in my experimental, non-utopic design philosophy. I needed to introduce my polemic into the work, or else it might carry messages contrary to my values (it may regardless, but at least I can try and make my intent as clear as possible). I needed my writing to reflect a strong opposition to, or at least complication of, Enlightenment ideals. I would also paint a picture of the post-revolutionary society I dreamed for my characters, which meant I needed to refine my anarchist sensibilities with a deep dive into ethics and anarchist theory.

I decided to illustrate the conflicts between more Enlightenment, classical logic-based arguments and more post-Enlightenment, posthuman arguments in a contest between two translators trying to render the same text into English. I therefore refined the six tenets of my constructed religion, translated them into Ithkuil, then rendered them back into English in two competing and slightly different ways:

1. tʼal-lrëikțatf orêtfiáss arkʼarț

[tʼal.lɾəɪkθatf ɔˌɾeːtfɪ.ˈas.s ˌaɾkʼˈaɾθ]

similarity.p1s3.IFL-MLT.N-MNF-HAB-EPI thought.p2s1.FML-MLT.N-v2ss/9-GEN source.p1s1.FML-AGG.N

“It is known: some reminder is the source of any thought.” – Eloquences

“So it is that all thought’s source is a likeness.” – Violet

2. okleomdh âkláʼdh tʼal-lriočʰaț atvufq oráʼtf

[ɔklɛ.ɔmð ˌakˈlăð tʼal.lɾɪ.ɔt͡ʃʰaθ atvʊfq ˌɔˈɾătf]

river.p2s1.IFL-COH.N.PRX-ASI river.p3s1.FML-N.PRX-MED organize.p3s3.IFL-DYN-HAB-EPI.N self.p1s1.IFL-MLT.A-IND thought.p2s1.FML-MLT.N-MED

“It is known: as a current from the channel, so selfhood organizes itself out of any thought.” – Eloquences

“So it is that as the whirlpool from the stream, selfhood knits itself from strands of thought.” – Violet

3. ôcneoț îcnêț atvațoaxiarň tʼal-lrëigadhoaqʼ

[ot͡snɛɔθ iːt͡sneːθ atvaθɔ.axɪ.aɾŋ tʼal.lɾəɪgaðɔ.aqʼ]

spore.p3s3.IFL-N-ASI fungus.p2s3.IFL-N-GEN self.p1s1-IFL-N-v2x/2-v2rň/9 component.p1s3.IFL.MNF-HAB-EPI-N-v2q’/2

“It is known: as the fruiting body of the fungus, the crucial, tiny self is the visible component.” – Eloquences

“So it is: the smallest self is the most crucial visible component, as the spore of the fungus.” – Violet

4. tʼal-lreijjaçoak ekraxiuk amvouț tʼal-lrükrațíukiss

[tʼal-lɾɛ.ɪʒ.ʒaçɔ.ak ɛkɾaxɪ.ʊk amvɔ.ʊθ tʼal.ˌlɾuːkraˈθɪ.ʊkɪs.s]

motion-in-situ.p1s3.IFL-v2k/2-ASO.N.PRX-DYN.EPI.HAB tool.p1s2.IFL-ASO.N-v2k/1 center.p11.IFL-N.NAV tool.p1s2.IFL-N-v2k/1-v2ss/1-MNF.HAB.EPI-framed

“It is known: a good wheel spins right about the hub, where there is no wheel.” – Eloquences

“So all wheels spin ever toward their wheel-less centers.” – Violet

5. öpatf uizát tʼal-lripšasúemzeoj ékëuʼady tʼal-lreisásiull

[øpatf ʊ.ˌɪˈzaθ tʼal.ˌlɾɪpʃaˈsʊ.ɛmzɛ.ɔʒ ˈɛkəʊ̆ʔadʲ tʼal.ˌlɾɛ.ɪˈsasɪ.ʊl.l]

carrier.p22.IFL-MLT.N mind.p1s1.FML-N-MNF happen.p1s1.FML.DYN.HAB.EPI-PRX-framed-v3mz/9-v2j/6 path.p1s2.FML-A.PRX.PRV-ABL-framed deviate.p1s3.IFL-DYN.HAB.EPI-framed-v2ll/1

“It is known: a ‘thing’ is a self which acts automatically as expected, and never deviates from its predetermined path.” – Eloquences

“So inanimate is the self which obeys only habit, and never strays from destiny.” – Violet

6. tʼal-lriokápps oratfiáss âkțîʼatf

[tʼal.ˌlɾɪ.ɔˈkap.ps ɔɾatfɪ.ˈas.s ɑkθiːʔatf]

path-oriented translative motion.p3s3.FML-A.TRM-DYN.HAB.EPI thought.p2s1.FML-N.MLT-v2ss/9 similarity.p1s3.IFL-ALL-MLT.N

“It is known: finishes, arrives, any and all thought at a type of reminder.” – Eloquences

“So the destination of a thought is a likeness.” – Violet

As I mentioned, these six tenets were adapted from the Tao Te Ching as interpreted through Charles Sanders Peirce’s semiotic philosophy. They have to do with the origins and ecologies of the self, the necessity and inevitability of communication, and the structure of thought. Why did I create two different translations of the same text in-world? I wanted to show how political of a project translation can be. For example, the less rigorous Violet Text translates the epistemic-habitual modal affixes of the main verbs as “so it is,” whereas Eloquences uses “it is known;” I did this because though they might not seem such different phrases, “so it is” distances the knowledge from a knower – it poses the knowledge as an immutable state of reality, rather than an interpretation derived by an observer. As I learned from readings of Victor Turner, Antonin Artaud and Roland Barthes, such mythologizations are processes of naturalizing the events of a narrative until they lose their historicity, and seem to follow simply from common sense. Mythology transmutes history into a string of isolated, politically vacuous events that could never have happened any other way.

Further examples of the differences between these hermeneutic exercises are in the translation of “similarity.p1s3” in Tenets 1 and 6. Eloquences renders this as “reminder;” the Violet Text, as “likeness.” Why is “reminder” any more nuanced? Why might “likeness” lead the reader astray? To me, “likeness” implies literal similarity; a sort of facsimile relationship between an “original” and “copy.” I took these tenets from Kohn and Peirce directly: Kohn says that all thought begins and ends with an “icon.” “…[A]ll semiosis ultimately relies on the transformation of more complex signs into icons” (Peirce CP 2.278 cited in Kohn 2013: 51). By an icon, Kohn and Peirce mean a type of sign that stands in representationally for another in a very literal sense, like an onomatopoeic sound-image or a drawing of a smiley face. These icons aren’t supposed to be technical, detailed imitations, but rather empty stand-ins to quickly communicate a desired connotation. Therefore, a “reminder” suffices as a translation of “similarity.p1s3,” because the relationship between the sign and the referent is not always one of literal similarity.

The limitations of magic

Or, other magics that do just as much

If we take from Mauss that magic is highly grammatical, that it follows closely to linguistic processes, then my equally linguistic magic system’s limitations must lie in the exclusive capabilities of non-linguistic systems, or perhaps even non-semiotic systems. We must turn to the affect theorists. Is the magical self truly nothing more than a set of interpretants, signaling to each other through eternity? What would the implications of this be for free will and the power of the individual vs. the community? This takes me to my current readings of Deleuze & Guattari’s A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism & Schizophrenia, translated by Brian Massumi, and Massumi’s own Movement, Affect, Sensation: Parables for the Virtual. These books challenge the idea that the self can be reduced to its linguistic processes, and posit that the “emptiness” at the hub of Laozi’s wheel, the constitutive absence at the heart of these semiotics, can actually be filled with direction, with velocity – a sort of perpetual growth into excess meaning that’s difficult to pin down in definition or interpretation.

Massumi takes from Bergson that any space, including the political geography upon which poststructuralism maps identities in their “positionalities,” is formed retrospectively from the completion or frustration of dynamic, unmediated processes of movement and sensation in the body. For Massumi, there is an incorporeal element of The Body – its movement through spacetime – that is ontologically privileged before the formation of The Discursive Subject. “Another way of putting it is that positionality is an emergent quality of movement,” says Massumi (2002: 8).

Emergence is another effect that I address in my Tenets; Tenet 2 deals with selfhood as an emergent property of interacting thoughts, as per Kohn and Peirce. Peirce’s semiotic often grapples with the problem of continuity vs. description, creating almost a Heisenberg paradox of its own wherein a thought can only be described precisely as a positional snapshot, or as a “nondecomposable…dynamic unity” (Massumi 2002: 6). Peirce formulated his three types of signs as emergent properties of each other; indices are emergent properties of the relationships between icons, and symbols are emergent from analogous interactions between indices, or indices and icons. So selfhood, language, and magic all organize themselves from the simplest signs, which is why Peirce and Kohn say all thought begins and ends with an icon. It seems there are parallels within these genealogies of thought, between the Deleuzian affect theorist Massumi and the semiotic of Peirce as it applies to posthumanism. Can the analogy be drawn further to say that if space is an emergent property of movement as selfhood is of thought, then movement and affect is its own kind of non-semiotic magic that must have an effect on spacetime?

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thepulta · 4 years ago

Text

“Faaaaaaaire?”

Westlie jumped in her seat and whirled towards the screeching. There was a child loitering around the front arches of the library, casually kicking the carpet. It had to be what, eight? No older than ten?

“Faaaaaairee?”

She smashed her hip jumping out of the chair and nearly tripped over her skirt. Westlie strung out several whispered curses and made a flying tackle in the lobby, clamping a hand over the child’s mouth just as it inhaled for another screech. “You’re in a library you little shit! Jesus, don’t scream.”

“ ‘ah can talk as loud as ‘ah want!” The little goblin raised the letter with one arm and fucking punted her shin as hard as its little legs could. Westlie squeaked in pain and shot a glance around the rest of the library. The struggle was being watched by several students.

“God damn it, just give me that.”

“Pay me!”

“Jesus Christ, I paid in advance.” Westlie fished in her pocket and found a penny with some lint. She shoved it forward. “Don’t spend it all on candy.”

The urchin had the nerve to blow raspberries in the middle of the library entrance. It tossed the letter at her - Westlie snatched it midair - and raced away. There were a few polite coughs around the room and some less polite snickering. Westlie’s face burned as red as her hair as she slipped back to her seat.

She opened the note, laying it out flat so she could read it and straighten her desk at the same time. It was written in the same neat, pointed script she remembered from London. Fitzroy did not write unnecessarily.

Welcome to Port Prosper, Miss Faire. I’m glad to hear you arrived safely, and I apologize for The Pyrrhus’ tardiness. I hope you spent a comfortable evening at The Shroom.

The crew is currently loading a shipment of hours, which will most likely take the rest of the afternoon. I’ve decided to give them the night off since our passenger hasn’t arrived, which of course, extends to you as well. If you desire, you can meet us on the dock, port 2, at 8am tomorrow morning after another night at The Shroom or this evening at 5pm simply to get acquainted. You may also feel free to sleep on board the Pyrrhus, although it’s unlikely anyone else will be aboard the ship.

The next port of order will be the Eleutheria Transport Relay whenever our passenger arrives.

Your Captain,

Fitzroy

Funny, the Eleutheria Relay was the one place she hadn’t obsessively practiced navigating to. Westlie resisted the urge to open her books back up and pour over the seasonal wind speeds, trying to weigh her options for the night. She didn’t particularly feel like spending the night alone on board a ship she didn’t know. Then again, she could be at risk of looking tardy. Fitzroy had given her the option though, and it seemed like everyone else would be doing the same. Westlie puffed out a breath and folded the note back up, taking the opportunity to glance around the library. The students from earlier had gone back to their work, bent diligently over thick dictionaries and maps. The place was quite lovely, not as big as the one in London, but close. The entrance was grand and domed, with three wings to the right, left, and front. Books lined the walls of the bottom floors with desks lined towards the entrance. Three spiral staircases granted access to each of the three upper levels with bookcases where one could look down upon the massive (Surface-made, Westlie knew) Pakistani rug at the entrance. The walls were white, blue, and gold; there were a lot of Tuscan columns. ...a lot of them. The architect’s dreams must have been supported by Tuscan columns.

Westlie shelved her maps, absently drifting to another section and running her fingers over the titles. Flora and Fauna of Northeast Albion, A-N. Pteridophyta (Ferns and Horsetails) and their relatives in the southern areas of the Reach: a biologist’s memoirs. Edible varieties of fungi, 5th Edition. Geography and Biology of the Prosper Mountains, Revised and Selected by the Author with Illustrations. She selected that one. That was probably the reason for the gravity abnomaly around the island’s southern tip. Not that the biology of the mountain would help with that, but she was still killing time.

She took the book back to her seat, fanning the pages as she got settled. It opened to several depictions of the mountains around Port Prosper, lovingly illustrationed with several different angles. Gravity... gravity... Westlie yawned as she scanned through the pages, scribbling notes every so often as she found something useful. It ended up being mostly plants with a brief foray into naturalism about the shape of the mountains compared to others in the Reach (fairly large, minus Lustrum’s positive menagerie of peaks and valleys) while having nothing about the gravitational pull. At least she knew the abnomaly existed. Westlie shut the book and glanced up at the clock. 4pm. Well, she’d done enough for one day, hadn’t she?

Port Prosper was in the throes of dusk as she stepped out of the library. People thronged the streets, bustling to and from factories. It reminded her of London. Westlie slipped between the crowds, greeting a peddler and trading pennies for several hotbuns. She munched on one as she made her way back to the hotel, absentmindedly browsing the shop windows. The styles here were slightly different. A little higher on the ankle, a little wider in the hip, a little smaller in the chest. Westlie peered at one jacket with an upright collar. It buttoned down the front like her vest, but it had sleeves and the the collar was enticing. ...it was also a lovely shade of burgundy.

... it was ‘a night off’, wasn’t it?

Westlie slipped inside the shop and waffled over the decision for several minutes before finally giving the shopkeep the sovereigns. The jacket fit like a glove and did a fairly good job of matching her hair. Westlie felt like glowing as she walked down the street, dodging pedestrians and occasionally running children. Her time was her own; there was no sister, no Arthur, no Mary to reign her back. No judgement.

She’d wasted so much time, hadn’t she. A memory of Morgan popped up, unbidden, per usual - and in a bar, also per usual. Westlie had had one of her abysmal days; something about missing deadlines. There’d been a lot of screaming; a lot of accusations. She remembered not even wanting to drink, just huddling in the corner as Morgan sat there with her. They’d been older teens at that point, maybe. “You know,” Morgan had hesitated. “You could come with me on my next trip. You don’t have to stay here.”

“Father would murder me.”

Morgan had hesitated again. “... we don’t have to come back.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Westlie snorted, because it did seem ridiculous. “I have to work. I can’t just fuck off.”

They sat there in silence for a long time. Morgan finally leaned over and curled on her shoulder. It wasn’t a hug, but something akin to it and possibly more meaningful in their affectionless world. She’d let out a soft sigh as they huddled together. “...you’re so unhappy, Wes.”

They hadn’t said anything for the rest of the evening.

Westlie had forgotten about that whole encounter until now and there was a deep, sudden pang of longing for the weight of her sister on her shoulder. She let it settle, heavy in her heart. There was always the possibility they could bump into each other at a port. Morgan travelled voraciously. It was all she did, honestly. Westlie wasn’t sure if she did it to put a small dent in Arthur’s enormous sums of cash, to escape London and that horrid house, or just because she loved travelling and mischief. Regardless, from eighteen years onward she did all three things quite well. When she came home, it was a daily coin flip until she’d leave again. Westlie came to expect a note on her dresser with the lump sum of travel money taken, an address (occasionally), and some form of cheery goodbye. Sometimes, it was in person, like the last time she’d seen her a few months ago.

Westlie’d been woken up at 2am by a knock at the window to find Morgan sitting on her carpetbag in the garden. She remembered thinking it was a distinctly Morgan way to leave town at 2am. She kept throwing pebbles until Westlie opened the window. “Goodbye, Wes! I took a few thousand sovereigns this time!”

Westlie remembered making a rude gesture, half-asleep. ...Annoying but not surprising. Morgan just laughed.

“Don’t tell, but I packed that box of sunlight from the shop too.”

Westlie’s eyes shot open. “That- Fuck, Morgan, that’s expensive!”

“Don’t worry about it! It’ll all take care of itself.”

“You’re going to get robbed blind by some asshole carting around a fucking box of sunlight- What the fuck- What do you even need it for? You’re such a dipshit. Why do I have to deal with this? You know those take months to get in. Goddamn it, Morgan.” Westlie considered grabbing the rope and taking the box back but in the time it’d take to tie it Morgan would absolutely be gone. That was probably why she hadn’t said goodbye normally in the first place. Fucking sneaky.

“Shhh, shh shh shh~” Morgan spun around and blew her a kiss. “Westlie, you worry too much.”

“I worry for both of us. Fucking give me that sunlight. Father’s going to skin you alive when you get back.” Westlie hung halfway out the window, debating if it was worth jumping and squashing the fuck out of the little kleptomaniac.

Morgan gasped in pretend horror. “Oh, I forgot, I have thousands of sovereigns and I won’t be back for months.” Her mouth turned up into a cheeky grin. “Westlie please, you know me better than that. The old bastard won’t remember a thing.”

“I’ll remember!”

“You love me though~” Morgan grabbed her carpetbag and blew Westlie another kiss. “I’ll see you later! Sorry I left so soon. Don’t miss me too much.”

“Morgan!”

Morgan slipped into the darkness with practiced ease, and Westlie glimpsed a cheerful goodbye hand wave before she disappeared into the shadows. Saucy prick.

Westlie remembered going back to bed pissed as hell she’d have to pick up the pieces from stolen sunlight no less. Jesus Christ, there was embezzlement and then there was that. She did remember going to sleep after that and opening up the shop in the morning, but the memory grew a bit fuzzy. Westlie scowled at the irony because she’d tried to forget about it to save her blood pressure, regardless of the outcome she couldn’t quite remember. God, Morgan did the dumbest shit.

Westlie was not going to miss that.

Even with the memories she was still more relaxed than usual as she approached The Humble Shroom. A few skyfarers milled about now after arriving from various ports, footmen moving boxes in and out of the lobby. Westlie took a moment to appreciate the soft touches of civilization they put on display. A rug, a lamp that had probably lived a former life in a grandmother’s cabinet; several crystal sconces on the wall that flickered appealingly. The rooms were off to the right, but there was a soft concerto playing off in the corner from the left where a doorway opened into another room. A bar? Probably where breakfast had been offered earlier. There were more skyfarers milling in and out. Westlie hesitated. She didn’t feel like going to her room and studying, but she didn’t want to stay out and about either. She didn’t need to drink, just... people watch. Tea would be nice.

The bar was excellent for her chosen past time; there were faces from all walks of life. A few stovepipe hats huddled in the corner while miscellaneous groups of suits - with patches or tears and without - circled about at random. There were three shelves of drinks, the aromas of mushroom wine and hard liquor circling about; a waiter handed off a plate of steaming something that smelled delicious. Westlie took a seat in the back and ordered tea, pulling out a piece of paper to work on navigating to the relay. It was far, but it wasn’t that far; a few days to a week or so. There was a bit of tricky gravity somewhere in the region and she tapped the pencil on her lips, staring up at the ceiling as she struggled to recall the numbers.

Someone cleared their throat nearby and she blinked, jerked back to reality. “Hello-?”

Jesus Christ it was Fitzroy.

He looked the slightest bit more worn with a bit of coal dust on his jacket, but otherwise quite the same and unmistakable. “Good evening, Miss Faire. You look well.”

“Thank you. You... you too.” ... she could die on the spot, or she could just die later after she made a complete fool of herself. Or she could have a normal conversation like a normal person. Westlie cleared her throat and folded up the paper while Fitzroy made a questioning motion to the chair across from her. “Yes, please, feel free- have a seat.”

He sat down and crossed his legs, pulling out a pipe from his pocket and taking his time stuffing it. After a good long minute he put up his hand to flag a waiter and glanced at her. “Would you like something.”

“No- ah, thank you. I have tea on the way.”

“Excellent.” His face betrayed nothing if that was the right or wrong answer. “Is that a 1890 Elegant on the shelf? I’ll take a small glass of that, please.”

There was heavy silence until the waiter brought both the tea and mushroom wine. Fitzroy lit his pipe and the smoke puffed lazily, adding to the rich scents around them. Instead of handing it off like the wine, the waiter chose to pour the tea himself. (He did not pour it the way Westlie liked it; she could already tell it’d been seeped too hot and it gave off the slightly acidic odor of a burned teabag. She held her tongue and comforted herself that the bitterness would keep her insides awake as she worked.) Fitzroy took a sip of his wine and savored it. Westlie did not enjoy the tea but she kept her face neutral.

When he placed his drink back down he faced her, dark eyes scrutizing. “I assume you received my note earlier?”

“Yes, sir. About an hour ago, I think.”

“I know the rest of the crew has divided themselves up across the city, so it was a good choice to stay put for the night.”

Westlie couldn’t think of anything to say, so she just nodded.

“As far as introductions go, you’ll meet them all tomorrow. I recently accepted another applicant as Navigator, an Owen West. I understand he’s been a reliable skyfarer for some time. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?” Westlie hadn’t. “He seems a bit shakey, but capable. I’ve known the rest of the crew for significantly longer. Marion is quite the ingenious engineer; Selmer is relable and loyal to a fault. Elijah is the kind of man who should be into politics but makes an excellent signaller instead.” He chuckled at a private joke and took another sip, re-crossing his legs and focsing on her. “I can’t speak for Owen, but the others were needling me about you.” There was a thin, not unkind, but not wholely trusting smile and Westlie could very clearly see the impression her interview left on him. “I was going to simply wait until morning, Miss Faire, but if you pardon me for noticing, you are not quite the same person I met in London and I know very little except your father is the kind of man I rarely associate myself with.”

Westlie took another sip of bitter tea, purposefully scalding her tongue as she tried to think. She drew on the remains of her evening, the calm purposefulness as she walked from the library back to the hotel. Why not be honest? She met his eyes and they were supicious, wary, but not unkind. He was being honest in his observations, and she wasn’t the same person in London. “I ran away.” That seemed the most straightforward, blunt way she could put it. Westlie sat the tea cup back in its saucer, half wondering if she was required to give more information. Fitzroy didn’t say anything. She tried to collect her thoughts. ‘I couldn’t take it anymore’ didn’t seem like the best phrase to describe it. Neither was ‘I’m nobody’, or ‘I don’t know who I am’, even though that was absolutely the truth.

Westlie hated sweet tea. She forgot, put two sugar cubes in her half-drunk cup and stirred it.

“Were you working on the Eleutheria Relay route?” Fitzroy broke into her thoughts and Westlie met his gaze again, briefly.

“Oh, before you came. Yes, actually.” She dug into her pocket and handed over the sheet of paper. Fitzroy browsed it. The look wasn’t quite like the interview; there was no judgement, just thoughtful acknowledgement. He was trying to distract her - he was actually quite good at that. Westlie stored that information in the back of her mind.

“You mapped this from Tratinson, didn’t you?”

How-?

“There’s a small abnomaly about three leagues in.” Fitzroy placed the paper on the table and pointed out the column of numbers halfway down. “Tratinson ignores it, because he considers abnomalies smaller than .5 newts to be immaterial. However, it’s enough to increase speed and throw off the trajectory of your second curve here.” He pointed to another set of numbers. “It’s never a big issue because the pull is small enough it doesn’t run you into any islands, but still. I have to look at the book, but Richards takes more of the northern abnomalies into consideration despite his occasional miscalculations.”

Westlie felt a deep flare of respect feed the hunger inside her. She could learn from him. She opened her mouth, couldn’t find which questions to ask, and settled on looking deeply appreciative. “Thank you.”

Fitzroy bobbed his head and took another drink. “It comes with experience.” He paused. “You were obviously well-trained.”

An image of her father brushed across her mind and Westlie’s hatred for the man flared deeply and uncontrollably. “I received a 102 on my piloting exam.” (For the fourth time, because Arthur kept forcing her to retake it, even though she passed the first exam without problems.) “And charting courses is... a hobby.” (It was an obsession. Definitely an obsession, probably unhealthy; kept her from losing her mind after hours of numbers in the ledgers.) “It helps me stay focused.”

She took another sip of tea and nearly spat it out. The sugar made it completely undrinkable. Westlie settled on refilling the cup until near overflowing, hoping between the bitterness and the hot substitute she could scald her tongue and ignore it some more. Between all of it she felt a minute, calmer spark of anger and she grabbed onto it, meeting Fitzroy’s eyes. “I was a navigator on one of my father’s ships. I think that’s what he planned for me to do until he realized I couldn’t take his commands mid-voyage and I wouldn’t save half a crate of supplies by driving through a shitload of scrive-spinsters.” Westlie reigned herself in. “After several instances like that, I worked in the shop instead for a... significant amount of time until I decided that... didn’t suit me.”

She glanced at Fitzroy and his face was blasé, but attentive.

“I won’t let you down.” Westlie remembered her stupid fucking mantra from the morning before and it just felt like something needed to be said. “I know I’m... quiet, and I know...” she hesitated, because it was a bitter pill. “I know my father. Nobody knows him better than I do. I can’t help where I came from, but I want to learn.” Please. She hoped it went unspoken. “And I learn quickly.”

Fitzroy finished his drink and there was the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips. “You have the job, Miss Faire.”

“Well I-” Westlie moved to take a sip of tea, remembered the saccharine taste in her mouth already and thought better of it. “-You asked,” she tested the waters with a hint of a dry look. “Sir.”

“And I am grateful I know more about you than when we started.” Fitzroy stood up to take his leave, pulling out several coins for the wine. “For the record, Miss Faire, I don’t question your abilities. Anyone who can chart a course by memory under the duress you were under deserves second attention. However, I feel an understanding between us that your father’s company does not require nor, if I may be so forward, deserve special attention, is in order.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Westlie interjected, before she realized what the hell she said.

Another barely visible hint of a smile played on Fitzroy’s lips. “Well my drink is done, but it appears we are firmly in agreement. If you have time after getting settled tomorrow, I might be available to discuss the Richards and Geralt maps if that suits you.” He made a brief bob of the head. “Goodnight, Miss Faire.”

Westlie stared at his back and then at her incredibly shitty tea as he walked away, finally downing the rest of the cup in one disgusting shot and pouring herself something vaguely more palpatable. She slumped back in her seat. That... went well. Tentatively? Possibly? Jesus she needed to go to bed. Getting tea was supposed to be relaxing, and- gods this was shit. Westlie resisted the primal angry urge to dump all of the tea on the ground, dance on the ashes, and refuse to pay; instead she put down coins for her tab and slipped out of the room, trying to decide if Arthur or Fitzroy was more dangerous when angry.

-=-

In her room that night, Westlie dreamed about something peaceful. She woke up after midnight but she couldn’t remember it, just... something about flowers, something about returns. There was a subtle longing for a name, a face; it itched at her mind, making her sleepily tousle her curls. Fucking dreams. Westlie yawned, pulled the pillow closer, and fell into a now deep, dreamless sleep and the feeling was gone in the morning.

-=-

Selmer was a beast of a man. Owen looked horribly nervous. Marion looked... chipper. Elijah looked like he could murder someone in his sleep but probably wouldn’t because he was the nicest of all of them. He’d tipped his hat a bit as Westlie arrived, discerning something as she searched for Fitzroy and headed for the small group of people on the dock around him. That was probably what Fitzroy meant about his alternate self in politics; that was a niche skill. She joined the group, lurking a bit on the outer edges as Fitzroy muttered into a clipboard. After several minutes of writing and scribbling he looked up, unemotionally scanned each of their faces, and made several more notes. It seemed like a lifetime before he put it away.

“Westlie Faire, your crewmates:” Fitzroy nodded to each punctually. “Selmer Gallway, Marion Gascoigne, Elijah Fry, Owen West. Feel free to chat a bit to each other before boarding. I need to submit these reports to the Ministry.”

Westlie felt a rush of euphoria that she wasn’t submitting the reports. Jesus Christ she was free. Fitzroy walked away towards shore and everyone eyed her silently, expecting her to say something. “... Hello.”

Selmer looked like he was going to explode after another five seconds of silence. “‘s a bright day gov’nr! You from around these parts?” He grinned, and he showed all his teeth, flashing a blinding giddy white.

“Ah, from London, actually. I assume you are as well.”

“O’aye, but I packed me bags a long time ago. ‘ah followed Marion on board. A capt’n always needs ah good shov’lah. An a wrench!” He hip-checked Marion and she rolled her eyes.

“Right, right. Well, welcome aboard, Faire.” Marion gave her a little casual unofficial salute. “The Pyrrhus is a great engine! I know you’ll love her. Have you been aboard any others?”

Westlie hesitated, “I ah- some Bediveres.”

Marion’s eyes gleamed. “Now there’s ships! Nothing’s better than the Pyrrhus, obviously, since I’ve helped make our own improvements, but ahh, the Bediveres are gorgeous. Have you driven them? I hear their handling is a little rough around the edges since one of the steam propulsion gaskets blocks the radius grav hinges.”

Westlie had heard about radius hinges exactly once when she and Morgan were shit-faced drunk in a pub on Elinore St. and an equally drunk engineer following Morgan around started bitching about radius hinges and Altanis locomotives for a full hour before they all passed out. She remembered absolutely nothing of that conversation. “I uh- I have driven one.” I was seventeen; please don’t ask about turning radii. “I do remember how fast it was.”

Elijah patted Marion on the shoulder as she opened her mouth to ask more questions. “I’m sure there’ll be time to show her the improvements once she’s settled. Speaking of which-” he gestured a bit into the ship. “The crew’s quarters are to your right from the hatch. Would you like some tea?”

“I would, actually, yes please.” Westlie gave a brief little nod to Owen as she passed by, following Elijah gratefully, and Owen nodded back, his face grave but not unkind or unwelcome; he’d just seen a bit too much. She knew that look.

When she stepped through the hatch, the Pyrrhus itself smelled of hours and cinnamon. It wasn’t a heavy scent, just enough she noticed. The air was wet though, steamy, like Marion had been warming up the engine earlier. There was thin wood panelling on the sides of the walls, polished to a soft sheen through multiple scratches. (Four claws had been dragged down the wood with deep, deep indents at one point.) It was all very orderly though. The crew obviously took great care with their upkeep; the same with their quarters. It was neatly swept, no cobwebs, electric sconces lining the far wall between the bunks. Elijah motioned to the bed at the end of the row where her trunk was sitting, to the right this time, right against the hull; it was opposite the engine, so was probably at least in port, the quietest end of the ship. Westlie glanced around at the bare walls, wondering absently if she could fit them with shelves like the other engine had.

“None of us care to decorate,” Elijah offered helpfully, reading her mind. “But I’m sure Fitzroy wouldn’t mind. I’m-” he gestured at the door, “-going to make that tea if you’ll excuse me.” He stepped back, spinning around for a moment in the doorway. “Oh the passenger should be here soon, Selmer just carried in her trunk. We don’t know her name yet, but she’s sleeping in the Captain’s Quarters, across from the hall.”

“Oh, excellent.” Westlie had no idea what to do with her hands. What did a first mate do with their hands? She settled for a curt nod of the head. “Thank you, Elijah. That helps.”

His lanky frame disappeared from the doorway, and Westlie took a breath as she opened her trunk. Everything was there (of course it was there; she’d just re-packed it forty minutes before) so she closed it and sat down on the bed. A deep sting of fear hit her as she looked around; the casual, not-quite perfect orderliness of the bunks. Selmer’s? messy pillow. Either Elijah or Owen, they both seemed like good candidates, had repurposed a crate by their bedside and stacked several dozen books on top of it. There were a few more bunks but they seemed untouched. Marion must have moved her quarters somewhere else - which was eccentric actually. Westlie vaguely mused if Fitzroy would let her sleep in the map room. Did they have a map room? They probably had a map room.

She puffed out a breath and looked around the room once more, trying to memorize the small details. The iron bedframes bolted to the floor (advantage: no creaking) the wooden floors fitting snugly against iron walls, the four bare walls curving into an iron ceiling. A soft breeze whispered around the hull and Westlie had a feeling she would get some very nice whistles in the middle of the night being right in the corner. That was alright. This was ‘home’ now, wasn’t it? It was what it was.

A deep pang of not-quite-loneliness, not-quite-sadness hit her and Westlie pushed up her chin a little. No emotions allowed now. She was done here; it was time to work.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself, brushing off her skirt and heading out of the room.

The very first thing she learned on her own was that the Pyrrhus echoed, deeply. The metal walls carried sound; literally carried, where if you leaned in close you could probably see the tiny vibrations of the sheet metal. No whispers were safe. There was the hiss of the kettle in what she assumed was the mess quarters and a roaring, boisterous laugh from Selmer. There were quick footsteps above her - possibly Owen.

“She’s very quiet,” Marion said from the kitchen, and a jar rattled with crackers or some sort of foodstuff. “Do you think she’s alright?”

“Juz giv’ ‘er time to settle in; Willy was pre’y quiet too,” there was a vigorous thump on the table. “Tea man!”

“Gods, you’re so impatient. It’s not ready.”

“You bloody know, Mar’on, you need to make ‘lijah a little thingamabobber that’ll heat the tea up twice as fast. Hook it up to the engine all fancy-like-”

Westlie hesitated at the open doorway to the mess hall, wondering if she should knock to announce her presence, but it absolutely was not necessary as she was almost blown over by the force of Selmer’s, “OI GOV’NAH.” He thumped the table again. “’e got apples, an we got ‘ese kipper snacks and if ‘lijah ever finishs that ‘ere bloody tea ‘e’s got some ought lovely black. Captain says ‘s from India but I think i’ tastes the same as London’s. Once ‘e finishes you can be the judge.”

Marion smiled and patted the table (in a much, much softer, friendly way). “Westlie, right?” she nodded. “We didn’t have breakfast earlier - or Selmer did-”

“But ‘ah’m always down for second breakfast.”

Elijah visibly, almost audibly rolled his eyes.

“-but we were going to have something if you’d like to join us.”

Westlie sat down closest to the door a little grateful for the offer so she didn’t have to figure out where to place herself. “Tea and a few snacks would be lovely, thank you.”

The conversation fell silent with just the hum of the kettle and Selmer tapping the table and fidgeting. Westlie vaguely wondered in the uncomfortable quiet if she was too attuned to it. There was a lot to be said in silence. Selmer very clearly did not think the same way. Finally he leaned forward. “Yous ‘ear the Captian was thinking about a new gun?”

“He did mention it to Owen the other day.” The kettle finally whistled and Elijah moved to pour. “We don’t encounter problems too much though. Is it worth it?”

“Eh, it won’t be too hard to install. Can’t hurt to have a nice bit of firepower now, can it?” Marion took her mug and sipped it gratefully, even though it’d barely seeped. “Absolutely worth it. Thanks, Elijah.”

“Thank you,” Westlie took her mug and settled back, letting the warmth flow through her hands as Elijah handed the next mug off to Selmer. There was a much more comfortable pause as they sipped, Selmer grabbing kipper snacks from the bowl in the middle of the table and tossing them tournament-style into his mouth. He crunched loudly. Westlie wasn’t sure why she wasn’t annoyed at his behavior. He was the spitting image of some of the skyfarers in Morgan’s bars; loud, obnoxious, bustling, but there was a sweet cheerfulness too. Maybe she just needed to be around someone that relaxed right now.

A knock at the hatch startled all of them.

Selmer bounced up, “I got it,” and he was out before anyone could put down their mugs. The hatch opened, and there was an unintelligible, questioning voice. “Oi yas, right this way, gov. I’ll carry in your cargo don’t bother with it. Step right this way.”

“Should we...?” Westlie made a vague gesture to the door. “Help...?”

Marion shook her head with a quick smile. “Selmer’s got it. He likes to feel busy.”

The room was significantly quieter after Selmer left and nobody felt like breaking it. Westlie considered asking where they’d been before London, but it seemed like such an empty question. Or any tales; maybe there’d be something useful. Fitzroy did say they’d been on the longest. For some reason she couldn’t quite muster up the words. The silence was comfortable at least though, Marion seemed to see she didn’t feel like talking and Elijah seemed comfortable with the silence as well. They listened to the footsteps reverberate about the Pyrrhus until Selmer hollared down the hallway. “Cap’ains back!”

Marion offered for Westlie’s tea mug and she handed it over, a few sips left. She tossed them in the sink before going through a back door into what Westlie assumed was the engine room. The cab. Fitzroy said they’d be taking off after the passenger arrived. She nodded once to Elijah before heading out and to the side, climbing up the tight stairwell on her left to the second floor of the Pyrrhus.

Owen was already inside the cab, a few maps spread over the table in the middle of the room, steam hissing from a pressure gasket. He glanced up as she walked in, smiled, and then refocused on whatever he was doing. Numbers, it looked like. Westlie hesitated before pulling the scrap of paper she’d been working on the night before out. “I ah- I did some crunching last night if you want to use this.”

Owen glanced up and blinked. “Oh... Oh, Tratinson. That’ll help actually, thank you.” He took the sheet and Westlie was left standing awkwardly in the middle of the room again.

It was a lovely cab. There were some references and maps in small bookshelves in the back, the familiar panels for navigating in the front. The Pyrrhus had bronze handles, steel interworkings with pipes of steam and cables welded to the sides of the cab, leading to the nav panel. The top was slightly domed with curved, arching blue windows for less drag, riveted along all their edges. It was somewhat soothing, Westlie mused, looking at the world through blue-tinted glasses rather than red ones. All the Bediveres had rose or yellow tinted glass. Something about looking more professional and yellow light being bad for your skin; turned the crew sallow.

There were footsteps up the stairs and she somehow picked out Fitzroy’s step in the hall, firm, patient, cat-like. He nodded to her and Owen as he entered the cab. “Everything ready? The cargo is on board. Adelia is settled.”

Westlie instinctively looked for the pressure valve, noting it’d only been a few minutes since the engine grumbled to life under her feet. “Almost. 50 psi to full capacity, sir.”

Fitzroy nodded acknowledgement, checked a pocketwatch, and went through the backdoor, letting a burning blast of steam and soot into the cab. His voice was almost drowned out. “MARION, NEW RECORD TO 250.”

There was a barely intelligible cheer from somewhere in the engine room which Westlie had to assume were Selmer and Marion. She found herself smiling a little as Fitzroy shut the door, brushing off his collar. “She’s done excellent work,” he informed Owen and Westlie without looking at either of them. He browsed the numbers on the table, checking the maps. “Mm, this looks good too. Pressure update?”

Westlie glanced again. “285, sir.”

“Close enough. Owen, take us out, please.”

Owen was already at the controls. They lifted with a lurch, the engine giving an angry hiss as the locomotive released steam from below. Westlie turned and stared out the window, resisting the urge to press her nose against the glass as they rose above Port Prosper. The library shown in the distance, the morning glinting off the glass in the dome with the mountains stretching beyond that, little plants dotting the slopes. Homes cuddled about the city, painted in red, grey, yellow, blue; Prospans weren’t picky. They grew ever more dotted and sparce further from the center, farms drawing lines in the landscape. The wind picked up as they rose higher.

Owen pushed the engine forward and Westlie felt the whisper of the breeze as it brushed the windows. Through the blue tint it was all so very alive, and it felt like... like being in love. Westlie had no idea how to confirm the feeling, but her heart squeezed and the rest of the world fell away. It was so beautiful. This was what she wanted. The love ached like a new happy fire in her chest and she embraced it, pulled it tight around her. It was easier to handle than her anger since it just glowed without burning, with a soft tender warmth. There was no action to it either, no demands, just a deep well of peace. She was never going to let this go, she swore quietly as Port Prosper faded away. She would die before she stopped traveling with the wind, watching these islands pass by, blessed by the soft glow of the fungi along their edges. She’d worked hard and she’d gotten so lucky. So very, very lucky. She would make every single second count. Damn the man who tried to take it from her.

#/sobs #my child went from an angry baby to a floundering anxiety ridden toddler #I'M SO PROUD #idek what to say about this #I did NOT intend for it to turn into 6k tbh #It was supposed to center on this latin phrase that roughly translates to #with the sword she seeks peace under liberty #which is basically what's happened the last 10k words #with less fighting and more screaming lol #but I forgot the phrase existed until I was done finished off everything and then scrolled to the top for my first reread and saw it #shit man I wrote all that and there was no continuity #fuck it though; these are basically increasinly long oneshots #and now I've dragged the crew in to make sure I"m not butchering their characters to pieces #I still don't have a handle on marion; sarah needs to write some shit #next port of order will be initial traumatic crash I think because I can write that; it's westlie relevant #then there was marions stabbing which I want sarah to write then other shit #lots of shit #HOW MUCH SHIT HAS HAPPENED TO US AHHHHGG IT HAPPENED LIKE FOUR MONTHS AGO TOO AND I STILL HAVE ANOTHER EPISODE LEFT BEFORE I MEET MY SIS #/screm #the crew of the pyrrhus #crew of the pyrrhus #adventures of the pyrrhus #the pyrrhus #skyfarer rpg #sunless skies #westlie #selmer #fitzroy #marion #skyfarer

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sustainabilitysarah · 5 years ago

Text

Progress in Food Production Illustration

In 1968, when I was and impressionable six years old horrified by what the television was showing about the Vietnam War, listening to the Beatles sing 'All you need is love', my parents bought a book called "The Population Bomb" by scientist Paul Ehrlich. It suggested that we were running out of resources because our population was growing too fast and we were consuming our earth's life support system faster than it could

regenerate. Two years later, on the first Earth Day, I began my activism, rounding up the neighborhood kids and staging a clean up of the polluted stream behind our apartment that ran into the Hudson River.

A year later my Beatle idol George Harrison held a "Concert for Bangladesh" to raise awareness of the suffering there. Like many kids worried about the "starving kids in Bangladesh" I asked in school why things were getting so bad. Like most school children around the world, we were told how the population bomb supposedly worked, how it ticked. The idea went back to the Reverend Thomas Malthus who argued in 1798 that "population increases geometrically, while food supplies increase only

arithmetically". This has been the prevailing wisdom for over 2 centuries and is often illustrated by the following graph:http://www.biology.iupui.edu/biocourses/N100/images/ageomgrowth.gif

http://occ.crescentschool.org/geography/human/unitvagricultural/malthusgr aph.jpg

Looks neat, right -- so mathematically precise and inevitable. The problem is that it is wrong. I felt it as a kid. It bothered me throughout middle school and high school and on in to college. The reverend's now famous "Malthusian" predictions of doom and gloom came from a man who never studied biology... we now realize that he was a religious zealot and bigot who made up theories to try and stoke anti- immigration fever, arguing that undesirable poor people were basically breeding like rats. The problem in his logic is easy to spot when you use Nexus thinking: FOOD IS A POPULATION. Food comes from living creatures who have populations. They expand GEOMETRICALLY. If you let them. If you encourage them. It doesn't matter if we are talking about Brewer's yeast or earthworms or oak trees or apple trees or chickens or ears of corn or cattle or cocoa covered ants... whatever you eat comes from living organisms that are programmed to reproduce as fast as they can... that WANT to reproduce... geometrically. Just like us. So... population increases geometrically, whether it is us or our food. Starving kids in Bangladesh or Ethiopia simply shouldn't happen, and, I will insist to you, WOULDN'T, if we allowed the organism we eat to do their thing.

The key to keeping food production in line with food consumption, I have been arguing, is to use the "food-waste-to-fuel-and-fertilizer-and-food" or FW2F3 formula wherein every molecule of nitrogen, phosphorous, pottasium and carbon and micronutrients found in our wastes in our burgeoning cities is transformed immediately, in situ, back into food through the magical transduction of anaerobic and aerobic biodigestion and urban vertical farming and micro-livestock.

Using these simple techologies to close the loops in the food/energy/water nexus, the curves on those graphs should continue to go up in lock step, until we reach the limits set by sunlight. And then we will have to figure out safe, harmless ways to grow not just ourselves and our "economy" but our ecology, and eventually help grow new planets. But even that... the promise of space stations and terraforming planets, isn't out of the question. After all, the one thing that doesn't seem to ever be in any danger of NOT expanding... is the universe."

Today’s lecture is about “Progress in food production: a new wave of ancient practices and post-modern technologies that use less water and less energy, produce less waste and can even produce more energy.”

And I believe, to paraphrase Deuteronomy 12:3, we have to start by “tearing down the altars and smashing the sacred pillars” that were erected by wrong headed Malthusians who used a gross misunderstanding of biology and a total lack of nexus and systems thinking to scare us into what I call “induced paralysis for profit”. The idea comes from what is called in economics classes “The Scarcity Model: the fundamental economic assumption of having seemingly unlimited human needs and wants in a world of limited resources, which states that society has insufficient productive resources to fulfill all human wants and needs”.

When the scarcity model is used to create fear, to create an atmosphere of doom and gloom, to predict the inevitable arrival of the four horsemen of the apocalypse (Conquest, War, Famine, and Death), political economists and political ecologists suggest that it is much easier for elite groups to manipulate the masses. They control the machinery of conquest and war, and they use the specter of famine to gain their power.

Food production sits at the heart of the nexus – every animal on this planet (and doubtless the vast majority of beings in our universe) finds food to be the fundamental. It is priority number one, for unless you are a being of pure light you need the food that grows with light to survive. And if you spread misinformation that famine is imminent, that starvation is just around the corner, you can mobilize armies.

However, looked at from a FEW Nexus perspective, this fear of famine we

have been living with since Biblical times (the four horsemen are part of the Book of Revelation of Jesus Christ to John of Patmos, at 6:1-8 in the New Testament written during the Roman occupation of Palestine) is a peculiar Middle Eastern and North European phenomenon it turns out, coming from civilizations in regions of the world where water stresses constrained food production. People in well-watered tropical regions rarely felt threatened by food scarcity and in fact were described by anthropologist Marshall Sahlins as living in a state of perpetual abundance. He postulated that hunter- gatherers were, in fact “the original affluent society” at a symposium entitled "Man the Hunter" in 1966 and this idea has been tested and found true for most peoples around the world where water was not a limiting factor. It explains why hunting and gathering and subsistence farming persist to this day, and why so many people resisted being brought into modern civilization or adopting modern agriculture methods. In fact the work of historian Anthropologist Eric Wolf, such as “Peasant Wars of the Twentieth Century” and Yale professor James Scott in books such as “Seeing Like a State: How Certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition Have Failed” teach us that there have been enough failures due to the form of agriculture that emerged from the conquering civilizations that the conquered were willing to sacrifice their lives to revolt against them. Somehow, it seems, those certain schemes to improve yields were social and ecological disasters that should have been rejected by civilizations but instead were used to confirm the Reverend Malthus’ scientifically unfounded hypothesis – a classic but often neglected example of what is known as confirmation bias – which wiki defines as “the tendency to search for, interpret, favor, and recall information in a way that confirms one's preexisting beliefs or hypotheses, while giving disproportionately less consideration to alternative

possibilities”. When it comes to food production, the alternative possibility, which is persuasively argued in Richard Manning’s book “Against the Grain: How Agriculture Has Hijacked Civilization” is that monocropping annual vegetation and basing civilization on grain agriculture, on the use of plants in the family Poaceae/Graminae, that is the grasses – wheat, rice, corn, barely, oats and sugar – yes, sugar is a grass – is, to caricature the 45th president of the world’s most powerful agriculture and military empire, “ a disaster”.

History records that agriculture and famine are the Jekyll and Hyde of the long and often militarized march of civilization. The one came because of the other, says Manning. Most of us were taught the opposite weren’t we? Taught that human life, as the 17th century imperial philosopher Thomas Hobbes decried in his book Leviathan, was “nasty, brutish and short” We were told that humans lived in a state of semi-starvation UNTIL they discovered agriculture. We were told that agriculture saved our species from hunger and misery, gave us the surpluses that enabled our climb to civilization. Sounds good, turns out not to be true.

Even Harvard’s Spencer Wells, a friend of mine who is the geneticist who leads the National Geographic Genographic project writes in his book “Pandora's Seed: The Unforeseen Cost of Civilization” that when humans shifted from hunting and gathering in that original affluent society to grain agriculture the average height of men dropped from about 5 foot 7 to 5 foot 2 and women’s pelvic girdles narrowed to the point where death in childbirth increased in frequency.

These were clear signs of malnutrition recorded in the fossils. Agriculture was to blame... floodplain agriculture dependent on disturbance species that grow like weeds after a disaster because they are weeds. And they end up causing disasters thereafter because they evolved to live in disaster environments, places where floods and fires ravage the countryside on a regular basis. In effect they DEPEND on disasters for their own reproductive survival. It is as though once we hitched our caboose to the weeds and became weed eaters, we started living for them and not the other way around.

Michael Pollan talks about this in his wonderful book that reframes our relationship to addictive plants called “The Botany of Desire”.

He points out that you could look at us as the slaves of addictive plants that evolved to control us through their effect on our brains so that we would help them reproduce. This idea, which British Scientist Richard Dawkin’s calls “The Extended Phenotype” in the battle of Selfish Genes, isn’t really new.

In 1872, when Samuel Butler published his utopian fiction “Erewhon” the major premise of the people who fled Europe to live on the island of Erewhon in the hopes of creating a better civilization was that they would not allow themselves to submit to the control of their addictions or any system that makes us into its own slave. On the island they refuse to use technology like cars and steam engines and typewriters and telegraph or any machines. It isn’t that they don’t know about these things – in fact they have an entire museum where they keep them safely on display in glass cases. They tell visitors, “in your civilization machines don’t serve you, you serve them. You go to work in the morning and waste your days slavishly building more machines and oiling them and fixing them and keeping them running. It is like the bee that is the servant of the flower... flowers can’t move to reproduce themselves, so they addict the bee with beauty and nectar and perfumes and the busy bee spends its whole life toiling just to help make more flowers”. The phenotype of the bee is being controlled by the genes of the flower, not the bee. This is the concept of the extended phenotype, which finds its purest expression in parasitology.

So there are some who believe that the crops we turned to in our modern agricultural systems are acting more like Parasites that food stuffs, and that when we think we are serving food in the “restaurant service” sense , we literally are serving food – i.e. we now serve THEM, as servants.

This makes sense from the perspectives of evolutionary psychology and behavioral ecology.

Whether it was drought in arid desert regions or winter freezing water into ice, the limits to plant growth and reproduction, and hence to animal fecundity were set by the availability of water. In the Middle East, certainly, it was not energy that was missing from the Nexus. Sunshine has always been abundant in those latitudes to provide energy for food production.

In the European countries the harsh winters did indeed constrain plant productivity and famines could result in winter if care wasn’t taken to take the enormous fecundity of the spring, summer and fall and store the harvest surplus for the fallow period. But Hunter Gatherers North and South, in the cold regions or the hot ones, originally depended on agroforestry, on tree crops, on perennials, not annuals. And they depended on the animals that depended on forests – on forest boars and jungle fowl and woodland ungulates – all the ancestors of our modern pigs and chicken and cows. In the north the forest leaf fall in the fall built up incredible rich soils during the winter ready for an explosion of food in the spring and summer which created enough surplus for the mammals we ate to survive the winter. In the south the forests retained the water that fell sporadically and created their own microclimates through transpiration. They forests created environments so rich in the cornucopia of foodstuffs that our mythology now recalls as “The Garden of Eden”.

And if you want some mythological proof of the disaster or agriculture, just look at the curse we were to endure after eating the tree of knowledge and getting kicked out of the garden, “To Adam he said, "Because you listened to your wife and ate fruit from the tree about which I commanded you, 'You must not eat from it,' "Cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you will eat food from it all the days of your life. Both thorns and thistles it shall grow for you; And you will eat the plants of the field; 19By the sweat of your face You will eat bread, Till you return to the ground”. So eating bread isn’t salvation, eating bread is the CURSE. No wonder so many hunters and gatherers said, “shoot, I’m going back into the forest, no way I’m doing hard time through painful toil to eat when I can pick fruits and vegetables and trap

animals.” And the fossil evidence of malnutrition affecting the pelvic bones of women, noted by Spencer Wells in Pandora’s Seed, is corroborated in the curse in Genesis when God says, “To the woman he said, "I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labor you will give birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you."

We can even comment on what this reveals about the emergence of patriarchal rule due to the shift to grain agriculture. My experience with hunter-gatherer populations is that the women are usually the ones who

understood the sheer abundance of biodiversity that nature offered to put into the cooking pot. I experienced it when I was living with Melayu and Dyak tribes in the rainforests of Borneo and was taken into the forest by the medicine woman who was cooking our meal and her grandson who climbed the trees to get the foods. She was called the “witch doctor” and as she laid out the huge variety of foods we collected to put in the cooking pot I had images of the witches’ cauldron with its “eyes of newt, frogs legs, bats wings” – all things that would have provided great inexpensive abundant protein but which today are shamefully associated with evil and

witchcraft. After all, women were BURNED at the stake for understanding and promoting biodiversity in diet by the European patriarchy, and children punished or mocked for thinking they could go into the forest as kids do and come back munching on lizards and grubs. Agriculture can be blamed not only for this tremendous patriarchal violence and loss of biodiversity as we simplified the landscape to a handful of weedy grasses, but for what James Scott calls the “dummification” of humanity. At one time, as I experienced among the hunters and gatherers of Borneo, harvesting food was an educational adventure that made women and children experts who rivaled the best Ph.D. botanists and naturalists who Harvard sent out. With agriculture we turned brilliant self-sufficient peasants into outdoor factory workers and, of course, quite literally when you are talking about the first 400 years of agriculture in the European colonized Americas, slaves. The violence inherent in agriculture rears its ugly head everywhere.

And it could be said that Genesis itself records the clearest indication that grain agriculture is the scourge of mankind, the source of its original sin of violence in The story of Cain and Abel. This chapter of the Bible is the clearest indictment of wheat agriculture one could imagine, and nobody seems to comment on it. Abel is a pastoralist who tends a flock of animals who wander about like ungulate hunter gatherers, eating what God has given them. His brother Cain is... a wheat farmer, somehow stupidly living out God’s curse to scratch a living in the hot sun through toil amidst the thistles and thorns that always accompany weed agriculture. Abel brings a lamb meat sacrifice to the altar of God, along with diverse fruits and vegetables he has gathered, and God is pleased.

Cain then comes with a bunch of wheat and the Bible says, “but for Cain and for his offering He had no regard. So Cain became very angry and his countenance fell. Then the LORD said to Cain, "Why are you angry? And why has your countenance fallen?7"If you do well, will not your countenance be lifted up? And if you do not do well, sin is crouching at the door; and its desire is for you, but you must master it."...

To me this is a clear indication that the ancients saw wheat offerings as a kind of sin, the sin of an addiction, an addiction which Cain could not

master. In his anger he turns around and kills his gentle carnivorous animal slaughtering brother.

Think about it for a moment... it is enough to make Vegans go mad: The vegetarian is the killer, the slaughterer of baby goats is the gentle one.

Could it be that this ancient myths were there to warn us that wheat is a weed, that grains are drugs, that we haven’t been growing food all along, but addictive substances that will end up mastering us through the Botany of Desire?

So, to get back to Reverend Malthus, who in my opinion must not have spent an awful lot of time delving into the hermeneutic interpretation of the books he preached in his fiery diatribes against the poor and the immigrants, it is clear to me that the entire Matlhusian premise is based on a fabrication of the weed eaters, who most likely did observe that if they kept planting grains and consuming starches and sugars their own sickly but ever increasing population would outstrip the fecundity of the land and so human populations would increase geometrically while their drug-food agriculture would only increase arithmetically if at all.

But if Abel had been Abel, we might have returned to the garden a long long time ago, where food is a self-increasing population grown in permacultural symbiosis into perpetuity. The good news is, that the world as we know it IS coming to an end. And what is ending isn’t the good life, but the bad life we inherited from our dummified forebears. We can begin again. Permacultural Food Production shows us how.

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afangirlwashere · 6 years ago

Text

Wrong door (Louis x reader)

(gif is not mine all credit goes to the creator)

A/N: so.......I’m gonna keep this short and quick......after what the fuck happened to my sweet sweet boy in this episode I just really really needed some Louis in my life ‘kay? This was sitting in my drafts since episode 2 and I forgot how good of a boy he was. I still can’t fucking believe what the actual fuck fuck happened what the fu-anyways.. If any of you have any burning ideas my requests are open so....y’know what to do...I’m sad and angry and need to go to bed so I hope you enjoy...peace.....✌️

Warnings: just some swearing, don’t worry about spoilers there ain’t any for ep. 3

Summary: Soup sucks as much as changes nobody told you about.

(while reading I suggest you listen to this song bc it’s a bop and it nicely flows with the fic)

Soup. Soup all the time. It was definitely better than starving but ugh.. Fuck that soup!

(Y/N) would KILL for some fruit. ‘Apple... Or a banana... Oh my god... Watermelon!’

“What ya’ thinking about?” Ruby asks.

“Watermelon...” (Y/N) blurts out.

Everybody at the table grunts in unison.

“Goddamnit (Y/N)! Why do you always do this? Now I want it so bad I’d shave my head for it!” Louis bangs his head on the picnic table.

“No, you wouldn’t.” Violet says unfazed while putting another spoon of the tasteless soup in her mouth.

“Yeah, you’re right... But I’d shave your head for a piece.” Louis points at her with his spoon while smiling charmingly.

Violet has just about enough energy to roll her eyes at him.

“Or an orange... orange juice...” (Y/N) dreamily looks ahead of her.

“Somebody shut her up or I’m gonna leave this table!” Louis covers his ears.

“Please continue (Y/N).” Vi turns to her and sneers.

“Strawberries...” she can feel the drools almost slipping her mouth.

“You’re killing me!” Louis is jokingly overdramatic as usual.

It gets annoying from time to time but at least it’s entertaining. Not a lot of fun stuff happening around here anymore.

He was the fun one of the group. Definitely.

“Alright, I had enough!” Aasim angrily stomps to their table.

(Y/N) didn’t notice him walking towards them because of her fruit fantasies.

He throws a bunch of letters in front of them.

“Whoever is doing this it’s time to stop!” he seems to be getting more and more furious each second he has to stand there “You guys already make fun of me all the fucking time especially you Louis! So if this is one of your stupid jokes-”

“Hold up, hold up... Why the fuck do you have these?!” Louis stands up.

“So they are from you!” Aasim furrows his eyebrows.

“I’ll repeat myself one more time. Why the fuck do you have these?!” Louis snarls.

That’s a whole new side of him. He never seemed to get too angry about... anything. Thinking about it (Y/N) has never seen him in a real fight with anyone yet. Well not in a fight that wasn’t supposed to be a joke. He was kinda scary in this state.

“Because you keep fucking shoving them under my door!”

“No, I don’t! Your room is upstairs!” Louis defends himself.

“What is going on?” Ruby whispers to the others.

“I’m not sure, but I’m intrigued.” Tenn’s big eyes keep moving from one boy to the other.

(Y/N) shrugs “I don’t know... I just wanted some fruit.”

“No, it’s not! My room is eight doors before yours! I switched my old one with (Y/N)’s because she kept knocking on my door every night to climb on the rooftop and then left through my room again! It got annoying and I couldn’t sleep so I offered her to switch!” the vein on Aasim’s forehead kept on getting bigger and bigger.

Louis stared at Aasim in shock.

If Louis wasn’t in the middle of that conflict (Y/N) could just hear him saying “Careful! If that vein pops we’re gonna have a problem.”

“So I was... I-I was giving the letters... The whole time! To you?”

“YES!” Aasim picks them all up again and throws them at Louis’s head and storms off to the school building.

Louis runs after him right away “Aasim! Wait! Come on dude I wasn’t making fun of you let me explain!”

The rest of the kids at the table exchange confused looks.

When the wind picks up all letters start to scatter around.

“We should catch ‘em. Don’t want them floating around.” Ruby picks up two letters that still haven’t left the table.

Tenn - being the smallest one - crawls under the table to catch another one.

(Y/N) has to chase one for a bit till it gets stuck in a bush. Violet hands her the rest of them. She notices (Y/N)’s confused stare “They were obviously meant for you. I hope you realize that... He thought he was sliding them in your room the whole time.”

(Y/N) sets her gaze on the letters.

There were little doodles on every envelope. Stars, hearts, snowflakes, cartoony looking walkers, heads of dogs and cats, little bees, butterflies, pressed old looking flower, all that cute stuff.

“But why the hell would he-” (Y/N) stops talking the moment Violet’s expression changes into ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

“Do I really have to explain this to you as well? Louis would flirt with anything that has two legs. I thought you weren’t that oblivious... It’s obvious he likes you.” Vi keeps an unbothered stare.

“I picked up on that I’m not that dumb. But why wouldn’t he just... tell me? He is a very verbal guy after all.” (Y/N) shrugs.

Violet looks a lot less unbothered while rubbing her eyes now “Because he’s one of those ‘helpless romantics’, I don’t know! He’s an idiot! An extra idiot! He probably has like fifty songs prepared for you. I think he wanted you to feel special or something like that... I don’t know how boys think!”

“Yeah, you might have a point...” (Y/N) thinks out loud “There was this one time I wanted Ruby to braid my hair but she didn’t have time so Louis offered he’d do it.”

Violet looks startled “He knows how to braid hair?”

“He doesn’t.” (Y/N) chuckles “Well he didn’t know at the time but I taught him. It took some time but he really liked it so I taught him a fish braid and dutch braid and... looking back at it now I don’t think he was that interested in braiding my hair.”

“He just wanted to spend time with you... I mean he does pick you for everything. Patrols? Hunts?”

“I’m gonna go talk to him.” (Y/N) clutches the letters with more force.

“Hey!” Vi shouts right after her “Just... Whatever you do, don’t hurt him too much alright?”

Louis sat at an old school desk. There was still one room left mostly untouched by the disasters of the apocalypse.

The downstairs classroom which was meant for classes like history, geography, and biology. They took most of the maps off the walls because they were useful but some of them still stayed up.

The chalkboard was filled with drawings. They dedicated this one to the kids so they could have fun with it. There were other chalkboards in other rooms which they used for plans or rules. Until they got out of chalk.

Still, it was nice to see one part of the school stay the same.

Louis remembered the boring biology classes he spent sending secret messages with Marlon or drawing funny pictures of Miss. Gonzales - their teacher. Oh, how he wishes he paid more attention in that class.

“Can we talk?”

Louis dreaded this moment ever since he slipped that first letter under the door. Which kind of backfired at him with that whole Aasim thing but... He’ll be angry about it for a while and eventually, he’ll forget. Aasim is not very good at holding grudges.

“You know, I found those envelopes and papers here... And then I got that stupid idea to write letters. I’m gonna go dig a grave before I fully process how much I fucked up this time.” his foot is nervously tapping on the floor.

“Oh come on it wasn’t that bad. Could have been worse I think. You could have been accidentally sending them to Violet.” (Y/N) sits down in the school desk that’s next to him.

“Nope, that wouldn’t have happened. I would slide that piece of paper under her door and before I could straighten my back she’d open the door and throw the envelope on my head just like Aasim did.” Louis weakly smiles.

(Y/N) has the same smile on her face.

“Listen, Louis,” she starts “I picked up on your little crush on me.”

“Little? It’s huge! It overgrew me in a few weeks! I couldn’t even look at you when I was talking to you! Felt like my face was on fire every time!”

(Y/N) looks at him startled “Well... Okay... I-I just wanted to tell you that I’m not freaked out by this. I don’t think you’re weird or anything.” she put the letters on the table in front of him “Here... I haven’t read any of them. If you don’t want me to read them I won’t. You can keep them and do whatever you want with them. Burn them, bury them, keep them, I don’t know. But I’ll let you decide.”

Louis looks at her with big dark eyes “You... You don’t want them?”

“No! It’s not like that!” (Y/N) panicks “I just thought maybe you wish you could take it all back and getting rid of them without me ever seeing what you wrote could help you.”

He looks at her with furrowed brows “I want you to keep them. Don’t read them now though that would be... weird. If anything happens to me I want you to have them so that, you know, you’ll have something left from me.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you, Louis. I’m not losing you. You’re going to be safe and sound here with us. At home.”

The older boy studies her face for a good second “If I wasn’t so sure you didn’t feel the same way about me like I feel about you I’d say you like me too little (Y/N).” he smirks.

She takes a shaky breath “Never said I didn’t.”

His response is just like she presumed. Shocked. His stare is a bit uncomfortable but what else could he do?

“I was just waiting for you to y’know... Say something. I’m not the most confident in these ‘romantic’ things I’m sure you’re aware of that. But you seem to shine in those things so I thought... you would do something.” (Y/N) feels the need to explain her point of view.

“I just-I never thought you-I mean you always-you always seemed to not care. I thought you didn’t think about me the same way I do about you.”

“I mean, yeah you’re kinda annoying. I don’t really get how you can just blurt out stuff without caring plus your jokes can be a little insensitive at times and you named your weapon Chairless which I still think is the most childish thing you ever did but... I guess it’s all part of the reasons why I like you so much. You’re different.” (Y/N) smiles at him.

“That was the nicest thing anyone has said about me.” Louis stands up while fixing the collar on his jacket.

“Well, you are a nice person.” the girl stands up as well “No doubt about that.”

They stand facing each other for a few seconds and then Louis speaks again.

“Tomorrow. After lunch. Come to the piano room.” his voice is back at his confidently relaxed tone which makes (Y/N) happier than she thought it would.

“Like a date?” she asks out of curiosity.

“Like a date.” he nods and walks past her brushing his shoulder against hers on purpose.

(Y/N) grins widely and turns around “I’ll be there. And you better play me a song that you’ve written about me.”

Louis looks back over his shoulder “Oh don’t worry. I got a lot of those up in my sleeves.” he winks at her and finally leaves.

(Y/N)’s stomach did that weird thing again that it did when she first met Louis. If she remembered correctly Minnie always said that those were “butterflies in your stomach” and somehow...? It perfectly described the feeling.

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