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tylered-up-in-blue · 1 year ago

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Response to “The Magic Trick You Didn’t See” / The Coffee Theory

I, like many people in the Good Omens fandom, have already read the big essay “The Magic Trick You Didn’t see” –which blows up the coffee theory that’s been circulating on my twitter page to greater heights and big claims. I have some thoughts.

First of all: I think that the original essay has a few details wrong, essentially because it falls into a kind of utilitarian perspective with the whole magic show metaphor. The thing is –sometimes details which are left hanging, or themes which are shown to be important, don’t always tie up somewhere. Sometimes they’re there because they’re interesting, or poking at intrigue –trying to get you to notice and note down for later, rather than evidence of one ultimate solution that’ll be revealed as a holistic great plot. Also “I didn’t think the writing was good in this moment” isn’t very convincing to me, I’m sorry.

But –I do think that they were onto something. I hesitate to make any grand claims, like “Maggie isn’t real,” or “The Metatron is editing the book of life,” because -to be honest- I don’t trust myself to put my name to something as big as that, and I don’t want to erase my favourite thing about Good Omens: its whimsicality. But I will say that there are themes and notable elements which I think will be important later and hint at some larger fuckery (if you’ll excuse the OFMD reference) going on, so consider this a kind of rejigging of the theory to be a more thematic approach that lays out things I just thought were interesting under an more open-ended (or flip-floppy, depending on how you take it) idea:

Something was going on this season which will be revealed as a Heavenly plot to split Aziraphale and Crowley up by the end. It worked. And the person to reveal the greater plot will be Muriel.

I’ll write down first of all a list of things that have been introduced to the world of Good Omens which I think are important, and highlight why one of them sticks out to me. Then I’ll work on a thematic basis of what things are shown to be worth narrative focus/presuppose S3. The first two themes are very much commentary drawing on the essay I’m responding to, and the second two are more my own ideas –certainly the fourth.

Okay, so: there are introductions to the Good Omens-verse which are clearly there to expand our world for later use. I don’t know if all of these things will come up again, but by the end of this season we know:

There are Nazi (and possibly more) zombies running around London.

There is a gun in Aziraphale’s bookshop -in case it’s needed.

Heaven is interested in keeping things quiet, and they will fiddle with memories to do so. Erased memories can be “stored” in things/creatures.

There is a thing called “The Book of Life” that if you’re written out of, you NEVER EXISTED. (It can be edited, too, presumably.)

Crowley is possibly the most powerful being in the show. “Half a tiny miracle” ends up being enough to resurrect someone 25 times over, and his attempt to stay calm after a little tiff with aziraphale results in draining the street of electricity. Also he created the entire universe. (coming back to amend this with the fact Neil said he got going just "that tiny corner of space" -but I still feel there is significant evidence to say he is very powerful:) )

I lay these out because they’re just good to have noted down, really, and because they’re definitely GOING to be important. ALSO because the last one makes sense for the greater aim to be breaking up the ineffable husbands. Emphasis on Crowley’s power –and for their shared power– sets up a REAL threat for what we KNOW will be the basis of s2: The Second Coming. If you’re Heaven, and you want the second attempt at an apocalypse to be successful, you’d be stupid to let the two celestial beings who were meddling in the whole averted-apocalypse ordeal last time to just be AROUND for it. Especially when one has the ability to stop time!!! You’ve GOT to break them up.

Theme 1: Investigation (Muriel!)

Investigation is a fun little theme in s2: Aziraphale goes full detective mode. He loves the clues, he’s in his little trilby investigating. All the marketing was very investigative and invites the audience to pay close attention. And there are SO many little easter eggs. From The Colour of Magic appearing to Gabriel reading the first lines of Good Omens –even as small as a Terry Prattchet impersonator speaking over the tannoy in Hell, or the film in The Resurrectionist being chosen specifically to play because there’s a scene where Jimmy Stewart talks to a fly.

So! Investigation is fun! It’s important. And my favourite part of the essay I’m responding to is definitely that about Muriel. I think that all this build up to the detective-vibe is going to cumulate in their s3 role. Essentially: I entirely agree that they are coded as the one to blow open this whole case in S3. The police costume and giving them The Crow Road are certainly suggestive–but more than anything, leaving them in charge of the bookshop (full of Aziraphale’s diaries and books and everything) props them up perfectly to earn the promo they got for s2. Because I’m not sure about you, but my mutuals and I were shocked that the NYCC scene (“hello hello hello, I’m a human police officer!”) didn’t happen until episode three. From the way the promo was going (character profiles, trailer etc.) I thought Muriel would be in s2 WAY more.

They also make a HUGE point of how Muriel is considered “nobody.” They say it themselves, they’re called “the dull one” by Metatron.

They set them up perfectly to solve this later.

Theme 2: Memories and Stories:

Memory! Another theme! –memory that can be tampered with, contained, erased and returned.

Heaven is willing to meddle with and erase memories if necessary. They are, then, SUBTLE.

There is no God narrator.

There is a statue immortalising a very real Gabriel (somehow/for some reason –Gabriel was also involved in its making?)

My favourite part of season 2 was definitely the minisodes. The costumes, the settings –I was so surprised to find the horses and carts in ep 3 were CGI in the X-Ray! They look so good! I loved how every single flashback was incredibly vital and interesting to expand on Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship –that convo on the rock in ep 2? WOW. Stunned. Anyway, not to go on.

I completely disagree with the conviction that these were edited. I think that, to the contrary, these memories are (IF there’s something going on with temptation/persuasion (more on that later) and The Book of Life) are ENTIRELY real. And the reason for that is highlighted in the very essay: each memory is tied to a physical record of it happening. The Book of Job; the Polaroid in ‘41, and Aziraphale’s diaries. This is not to say that there aren’t still gaps: where was the “I’m sorry” dance of ‘41? If Aziraphale wasn’t drinking in 2500 BC then when did he start? Just little things like this.

This is the thing: stories, words, are vital. The challenge that they gave the guy who did Sherlock (I can’t remember his name I’m sorry!) –it’s talked about in the X-Ray– was to have words pop out in 4 different ways across S2. This a fun stylistic choice, but it also gives words narrative attention, so ties in with all this. Without God to narrate, narratives and accounts are left to the characters within the world. It’s fun and important both. So is the spelling stuff. Maggie can’t spell, neither can the demons. (She may be a demon herself –I’m not entirely convinced it’s this simple, tbh, but Aziraphale’s miracle not working on her in ep5 is definitely a red flag.) Anyway – it’s also interesting.

With all this, my idea that Heaven/Metatron had been planning the aziracrow divorce from the beginning might mean they’re tampering with The Book of Life –it also could mean that they’re ABOUT to do something weird with Aziraphale’s memories, or all these pieces are going to become very very helpful for Muriel’s investigation.

I really do wonder what this role of records, memories and narratives will come to, but I have a feeling it’ll bleed into s3.

Theme 3: Food

Crowley was the reason Aziraphale tried food in the first place. I just wanted to put that down because of course he was, but also it is deeply INSANE that he INTRODUCED AZIRAPHALE TO THE CONCEPT OF EATING. God, David was right. They really don't exist without each other.

This is kind of the point I make with food here: it’s a HUGE theme in s2, largely just to emphasise the fact that it’s powerful.

For some reason (jokey or otherwise) eccles cakes can “calm you down.”

Aziraphale becomes significantly bonded to Crowley by eating the Ox in ep2. Later, Crowley is “as strong as an Ox." –fun little echo.)

They drink the same wine as always in ‘41 –they share no wine in s2, just the sherry and whiskey respectively. They also don’t share a meal, which seems interesting. I personally think that it’s to do with consumption being a metaphor for queer desire, and the absence of it being a sign of C/A being on “their own side” in s2. Crowley abandons temptation as Aziraphale abandons attempts to “save” Crowley. –-Or it may mean something else!

Crowley drinks laudanum and it makes him go lala. It ALSO makes him turn tiny, then giant, and he does something kind –kind enough to get him dragged off to hell and tortured so badly that he’s asking for holy water as “insurance” 40 years later.

That fucking oatmilk almond coffee. Okay. So if food is powerful, this has weight. From the colour of it being weird against the background to the fact (to quote my dear friend Jey) “nobody fucking drinks almond syrup!!” –I’m sure you’ve see all this going around. Almonds are obviously very poison-coded, and considering the above point I smell something strange. (I don’t believe it was quite a case of drugging per say, but more metaphor: Aziraphale is being tempted. He’s being manipulated, and drawn back into the culty office world of heaven.)

So what we know here is that food is powerful. An important metaphor and force (especially for aziracrow.)

Theme 4: Resurrection

OKAY: so, this is the most original of my listing in these themes. I am so interested in this resurrection thing they’ve got going.

The Resurrectionist pub: where Gabriel and Beez come to their plan. We see that The Dirty Donkey is a lift to heaven (which NOT enough people are talking about) –so what about The Resurrectionist? What power does it hold as a space? Why is the legacy of Mr Dalrymple important?

Why did (wee) Morag’s eyes glow briefly? Is she a zombie now?

Zombies exist. We know this. They’re also tied to the concept of consumption, which is cool.

Heaven measures miracles by Lazarii.

Gabriel, in one of his flashes of prophecy, says: “there will come a tempest (...) the dead will rise from their graves and wander the earth once more.”

These are all cool. Thematically, it seems that being raised from the dead is going to be something big. I’m interested in this, considering that after Gabriel said the above mentioned prophecy my good friend Jey said “hold on, is this going to be about The Rapture?”

Now: we know that “668: Neighbour of the Beast” was supposed to be set in America. Whether it actually is or not, I don’t know, but I think that if it is about a second coming on American soil, The Rapture feels VERY pertinent. The dead are the first to rise and be with God in The Rapture, but all believers join them: and they join them permanently. In some versions, there is a period in which Christ rules the earth. All very fun and interesting prospects for s3!

Where this leaves us:

S2 is the “bridge” between 1 and 3, in Neil’s words. It’s the “romantic filling” of the sandwich.

I would argue that some seriously tough bread started with “oh Crowley, nothing lasts forever,” but hey ho, that’s the very ending of the season. I just want to talk about coded language/draw on what I’ve just said to talk about how we’re set up for the structures of s3:

Heaven is a CULT. A serious cult. From the (temptation) manipulation of the coffee, to the man at the pub calling Gabriel a “mason” –which I’m assuming he means freemason– to the frankly INSANE smile on Michael Sheen’s face as the credits roll (also sickening lighting there)– they are a big threatening cult, and that is going to be important. I think it’ll just get increasingly so.

FurFur and Shax have it OUT for the ineffable husbands. Like they are NOT fans. And they seem to also be buddies now so… not great news.

In The Scene </3 Crowley stops himself short of saying he’d like to spend eternity with Aziraphale, and instead asks him to “go off together,” just like s1 –I think their language is going to develop hugely in s3. It’ll go back to being the space they “carved out for themselves,” only further.

And finally: a bet. The last time we see Crowley, he’s in a car full of plants because he’s carrying “their side” away with him. I am willing to bet –not that this is a hottake or anything– that it’ll end, as it began: in a garden. S3 will end in the garden of their South Downs Cottage !!!

#gos2 #the coffee theory #good omens #good omens 2 theory #good omens 3 #ineffable husbands #permit me a soapbox

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possiblyreallyme · 5 days ago

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✫・・。.Requests✫・・。.

Request form, rules, etc.

── How to request

just leave me an ask! it can be anonymous or not, whichever you prefer.

I don't like receiving dms all that much (unless it's something like asking for permission to link a work, etc), so asks are better for me + it's more likely I'll see them.

── What I write for

Animes:

One piece characters mostly! I could also write for Trigun (98 specifically), Demon Slayer, and Naruto though. I occasionally write for My Hero Academia too, but I haven't been in the fandom for a while.

Sexuality + Genders:

I can write for any sexual orientation, but as of right now I'm only confident in writing for female/nonbinary/gender-neutral readers. sorry men🙁

Genres:

Fluff, Smut, hurt/comfort, AUs, prompts, you name it! I don't write for heavy gore or battle scenes, only because I suck at writing them.

Headcanon requests are fine too!

Also if you want to request angst, that's fine, but I don't know if I'm any good at it because I personally don't read it.

Writing style:

I write in second person, specifically because I don't have to refer to the reader with a name, considering I HATE using "y/n". NO HATE IF YOU USE IT THOUGH i just have 2020 wattpad trauma and can't force myself to do it.

Kinks (18+):

Honestly, I'll write for (almost) anything that isn't dangerous or actually hurtful.

Praise, exhibition, light spanking, body worship, grinding, riding, etc! Love it!

── What I don't write for

homophobia, racism, transphobia, intense jealousy, cheating, bleeding (unless it's about periods), being hurt badly, major character death, rape/heavy non-con.

── What I don't write for (18+)

This is specifically for odd kinks that I do not write for, no hate if you're into (some) of this stuff though!

Scat (watersports is fine), rape, pedophilia, incest (no step-cest either), homophobia, racism, transphobia, hard core punishments, choking (light choking is fine, but breath control freaks me out), intense jealousy, cheating, bleeding (unless it's about periods), being hurt badly, death, rape/heavy non-con.

── Request specifics

Note: you don't have to use this specific form! You can be more or less specific, and please don't worry about giving me too much information.

If you want a very detailed one shot with a specific set up, write an essay if you need to! and if you just want to say something basic, just simply say something like "face sitting with ace", as long as you're okay with it possibly being different than what you imagined. And even if so, I have no problem editing or changing something!

You can request just about anything you want, as long as you read the sections about what I don't write for. If you want the "reader" character to look/act a certain way (hair, eyes, skin, voice, tendencies, personality, anything and everything) tell me! You can also give me a specific AU/genre/scenario and any character/characters you want, with any story/plot you want, in any pov you want!

── Request template/examples

Note: you don't have to use this specific form! You can be more or less specific, and please don't worry about giving me too much information.

"Hello, Beans! Can I have a fluffy fic with Portgas D Ace x female (afab) reader? Like, reader is short, has short blond hair, tan skin, covered in freckles and with a little mole under her left eye. She's sweet and smart and likes to read books and stargaze too! The plot is that Ace has a massive crush on her, and reader realizes it, so with the help of the Whitebeard pirates (mainly Izo and Marco) she brings him on a cute date and confesses, and Ace is all flustered because she ended up being the bold one instead of him?"

OR you could just say something like this:

"hi can I get a modern au with Izo x reader (afab) where Izo plays with reader's hands under the table for comfort?"

#one piece #one piece x reader #trigun #trigun x reader #naruto #naruto x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader

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wordsandrobots · 3 months ago

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Wishing on Space Hardware: Trivia and the cutting room floor

Having finished the single longest writing project I've ever done, I find myself with a number of bits and pieces left over.

To be fair, I also invite you to contribute to the pile by letting me know if there are any extra scenes you'd like to see based on my truly excessive amount of Iron-Blooded Orphans fanfic. The ask box is open for that and anything else you'd like to prompt me to write about.

However, there remains a bunch of stuff that never made it into the final story and a lot of little details I feel are worth commenting on. So as I luxuriate in not having to spend the week editing chapters any more, I thought I'd share a couple of quick lists regarding the process and what got cut out of it. For posterity, at least.

Spoilers for the fics, obviously, and since they're post-canon, spoilers for IBO as well (go watch it if you have not, it is very, very good, hence the 656,000 words I wrote as a direct consequence [not counting the essays. Jeepers, I'll have to tot it all up some day and get the grand total).

Ahem. Anyway. Trivia!

First up, I must publicly credit penitence_road (on Tumblr as @stillness-in-green)’s excellent IBO fics for inspiring one of the major threads in WoSH (I've mentioned this in author notes but the debt cannot be overstated). The phrase 'Almiria's Adolescent Apocalypse' lodged in my brain and became a mission statement. I did try to steer in a completely different direction regarding the specifics (hence why Todo is very much not a part of the core gang), but the main thrust was all about taking that description and seeing how I could flesh it out. (Go read these fics, my goodness.)

Second, there are, of course, mythology gags referencing the wider Gundam franchise sprinkled liberally throughout. Some I've already called out in author notes, but I believe managed to reference Gundam 79, Zeta Gundam, Gundam ZZ, Char's Counterattack, Gundam Wing, Turn A Gundam, Gundam SEED, Gundam 00, and Reconguista in G in more or less explicit ways. See if you can spot them all!

I named Skoll and Hati with specific reference to their roles in the Poetic Eda. That is, I thought of them as 'the moon-hunter Gundam' and 'the sun-killed Schwalbe', respectively, in reference to their rolls harassing the Arianrhod Fleet (formally the Outer Lunar Orbit Joint Fleet) and destroying the Ahab reactor factory. But also they reflect their pilots' temperaments, with Skoll 'the mocker' being flown by Embi and Hati 'the hater' by Lin.

Spaceships Baldr and the Váli were named in a similar fashion, for their connections to Ragnarök (Váli is Vidar's brother, another of the gods who survive the final battle), and I chose to describe the finale as 'Ragnarök' in the first place because in the sagas, it represents a renewal of the world, rather than a complete end. Quite apart from the Norse influence on Gjallarhorn's whole deal, the cyclical nature dovetailed nicely with what I was trying to do with the story.

I had a very near miss with Skoll in that I wrote it as being based on ASW-G-15 Eligos, named after a demon that took the form of a handsome knight who can see the future. Some months later, the IBO-G app would reveal ASW-G-16 Zepar, the very next Gundam in the sequence, whose namesake's appearance as a red-garbed soldier seems to have been muddled with Eligos in some of the sources I checked. I am really quite relieved I didn't have to rework anything there, but it was close!

Visually, the deconstructed Char-clone that is Almiria's gang channel aspects of other iterations of the trope, with Asher obviously replicating Montag, Embi settling vaguely in the region of Quattro (that is, a more civilian-mode masked man), and Almira assaying McGillis in a way that probably lands not a millions miles from Rau. But I was primarily thinking of Relena's Sanc Kingdom outfit for her, so the 'general's' coat is a lot fancier.

The media-savvy ally to Victor Handa in Revolution for Beginners... is the same cameraman who filmed Kudelia's pivotal broadcast at the conclusion of Season 1's Dort arc. Those events seemed like they would have consequences for the journalists involved and in Hajime's case, that involved being swayed fully over to the workers' movement.

I invented Alessio as a character to counter-balance Iverson and ensure I had some non-villainous non-binary rep. That I picked the stoutest background character model I could find was not unrelated to this, though it's also an *interesting* model, especially coupled to the ones around him/them in the big group shot.

Doc Chaifin, meanwhile, just sort of happened. Sometimes characters do that.

I wrote a significant chunk of the sex scene (well, post-sex scene) in To Catch a Falling Star while sitting in a car park, waiting for my partner to come back from an appointment. This was mainly because the fic was absolutely consuming my brain and I'd discovered the joys of using a mobile phone to write notes (I put off getting a smart phone for a long, long time).

With respect to the Calamity War recording segments of Eugene Sevenstark and the Hesperus Treasure, my working head-canon is that Agnika Kaieru had a science/engineering background. Or, well, I think he moved in a social circle full of scientists and engineers before getting started on the war effort. I also have this notion that his parents at least were part of the corporate class, distinct from the aristocratic class from which people like the Bauduins and Fareeds emerged. But I never sat down to work it all out in full, as that wasn't required for the story.

Regarding Hesperus, I kind of fudged a lot to get the story to work. I'd sort of assumed Radonitsa Colony was a post-War construct rather than something pre-existing, which isn't really supported by the Urdr Hunt game. So the idea of it being a composite of different space platforms bolted around a space elevator terminal is perhaps a bit of a stretch. I still like it though, the basic concept of doing archaeology on space stations.

There's a lot of stuff I did in the moment, to get an individual fic to work, that I was later able to basically repurpose as long-term plot-points. I didn't actually intend for the 'There are three things you need to know to understand what comes next' bit to set up the salvager ship in the finale, or the pluma in Let Sleeping Angels Lie to set-up for what the McGillis faction would do with the leftovers of Season 2's events. But having those things set up gave me some wonderful 'ah ha' moments as I marshalled the overall plot. If nothing else, I got quite a rush out of realising both Gaelio's weaponised wheelchair and the beach house's lethal defences were there to use.

...try not to think too hard about how excited I got figuring out a convoluted assassination method. I'm certainly going to try not to.

The plot really kicked into gear for me with The Ares Affair. Up to then, I'd been coasting on character interactions and fix-its. But then all the consequences suddenly coalesced in my brain and I went, 'oh, this is what we're doing, is it?'

In addition to the playlists I've already put up, grown-up!Almiria's theme is Bach's Polonaise in G Minor on the harpsichord because it is *precisely* what you'd get if you pitched Rustal Elion's theme higher and more playful.

I still have no proper explanation for why A New England stuck in my head so hard when I was writing th first few fics. But I'm glad it did because it gave me a killer series title, if I do say so myself.

I tried extremely hard to make sure everyone in the anime cast got some kind of moment in the spotlight or at least a mention. Think I did a pretty good job on that front, overall.

And to wrap up on that point, yes, the narrator who occasionally addresses you directly is a character from the show. I'd be terribly interested to hear if any of you've worked out who. (It might not be strictly guessable, since there isn't anything gesturing at it per se; I just imagined it being their voice and it kind of fits, thematically.)

Now let's open the door to the cutting room!

The big one is that when I originally planned out the plot of Revolution for Beginners and Polyamory for Dumbasses, a key part of the uprising in the Dort Colonies was going to be the hackers allied with Ride knocking out the nearby Ariadne beacons in order to blind Earth to what was happening. Gjallarhorn would then have analysed the computer virus they used, and that would have been the basis for them messing about with the Network in the final stretch of fics. In the end, there simply wasn't enough room to fit any more threads into that fic and the more I thought it over, the more I decided this would be weighting the balance of power wrong. It'd be too much of a flat-out win for the colonists. Joshua's appearance on Ariadne One -- which had been intended to set things up for the beacon-hacking -- remained, just recontextualised as a clue to who was responsible for the attack in Frozen Sunlight, and a small bit of character development for this OC. I repurposed the remainder of this plot as a way to tie Ride's arc into Almiria's (she taps him for the hacking resources as a result of them messing with Ariadne One's sensors instead) and made 'Höðr' an entirely Gjallarhorn project.

The delay to the release of the Urdr Hunt mobile game drastically changed the opening to arc 4 and had knock-on effects for how the grand finale worked. Because I thought I'd have more to work with in terms of plot and characters of the game when it came time to do the writing, I'd assumed I'd be able to work in appearances from Urdr Hunt's cast. I'd planned a much bigger pay off to the idea of Radonitsa Colony's tourist board trying to get the Martain Chairperson to visit, which was that Atra and Akatsuki would have gone alone with Eugene and Sri. The whole 'let's pretend we're here to assess the facilities on behalf of the Martian government' would have been more than a passing joke and instead been a full-on cover story, with Wistario and the his friends scrambling to put on a good show. This would, I admit, mainly have existed to set up a rather dumb gag whereby Sri and Akatsuki would have been the only ones not distracted by Nanao Narolina's everything in a room full of straight male or bisexual adults. But with the delayed release of the game, I needed a drastic rethink, hence bringing in Zaza and having the whole adventure take place with the Urdr Hunt characters off-screen (I even made it vague as to whether they were the ones running the colony, just in case I needed to swing it as someone else taking over following a tragic or failed ending). Ultimately I am very happy this happened, since I didn't especially gel with the protagonists of the game and it gave me greater opportunity to play with my beloved manga cast. But it did mean my idea of having both spin-off heroes come to the rescue at a dramatic juncture never materialised.

This proved to be single biggest alteration to my plotting for the final arc, too. Initially, the escape from Earth was going to be a lot more dramatic. For one thing, I was planning for the whole 'Yamagi gets left behind' element to happen in orbit, with Shino and Eugene actually present. Some sort of ship to ship transfer going wrong, people going adrift in space, that kind of thing. For another, I had the idea of bringing both Gundams Astaroth and Hajiroboshi into play, for a proper 'fight our way through the blockade' moment. Wistario was going to swoop to the rescue as the shuttle broke atmosphere, there'd be pursuit, and I'd wreck as many cop cars Grazes as I could get away with in some protracted chase sequence before we got to the big NOOOO moment. Yeah. But obviously without knowing Wistario's real personality or situation post-game, I didn't have enough material to work with and plans changed. For the better, I think, given the characters moments it allowed me to have and given that Wiz's character is one of my least favourite parts of IBO's extended media. But yeah. I was aiming for a proper team-up, the kind where you could have different people's theme music kicking in as they swooped into view, and it was not to be.

History of a Catastrophe. Oh boy. As I noted at the time, this one got away from me a lot in terms of length. I ended up cutting three complete scenes in an effort to contain the sprawl. The first to go was one focused on Ville Klaassen, (main?) villain of the Moon Steel manga, who I'd already had cameo in Of Obsessions and Erotemes. I wanted to gesture more towards a conclusion for the manga's story, extending from what I'd laid down previously, but ultimately that was too low a priority to justify adding to the word count, so out it went. Given the alternating structure of this fic (it switches between what is broadly 'Julieta's strand' and 'Almiria's strand), that meant cutting a later scene as well and I opted to ditch a brief cutaway to Embi, mainly because it just repeated stuff I'd already establish in A Handful of Rusted Petals. And possibly because of this cut, or because I'd just mucked up the ordering at some point, I also had to get rid of a scene between two of Gjallarhorn's high command that, while cute from an office politics point of view, didn't really contribute much else.

Actually, since these are all quite short, I might as well put them in here so you can see what you weren't missing!

««««««««««««⟸ ✎ 🜘 ✎ 🜘 ✎ 🜘 ✎ ⟹»»»»»»»»»»»»

P.D. 327 – In the middle of entirely unrelated events; Gjallarhorn branch office, Prague

“I'm sorry, is this a bad time?”

Ville Klaassen pushes his briefcase and hat across the desk, out of sight of the terminal screen. “Not at all. I'm just in the middle of preparing for a business trip.”

The Police Bureau officer's eyebrow twitches. “Hopefully this shouldn't take up much of your time. I'm calling regarding two cases you worked on in the aftermath of the McGillis Fareed Incident.”

That explains the highly-secured channel, which demanded Ville confirm he was alone before it would establish an encrypted link. “Oh yes?”

“I'm specifically referring to events at Research Station AD-5, and the investigation into the Fareed Charitable School.”

“The Alaya-Vijnana research? Of course.” The murdered scientists, the destroyed data – evidence of a zealot's self-mutilation turned to so much ash and broken glass. “What of it?”

“This is your official notification that information on these cases has been deemed deleterious to the public good and will henceforth be restricted to category five clearance.”

Interesting. The research Ville can understand, but a school –? Oh, that's right. Those rumours concerning Lord Iznario's predilections. “I was only peripheral to the second investigation. I wouldn't even have been on the ground for the first, had internal affairs not been so short-handed.”

Clearly the exact details of the involvement are irrelevant. “Please sign the forms now being sent to your inbox to confirm you have received this notification. Since you only hold level four clearance, you are not permitted to discuss the indicated cases unless ordered to do so by a superior with level five clearance or above. I am additionally required to run a remote-access search on your Gjallarhorn-issue devices to purge any data pertaining to these cases.”

“Remote access?” Ville asks, a drop of sweat forming at the top of his spine and seeming to fall right the way down it. “Now?”

“The scan must be run as soon as is viable.” There is an overly-deliberate pause. “Do you object?”

Such a rookie error. Ville curses himself inwardly. “Naturally not.” He casts a glance at the pad on the other side of his desk, still displaying the surveillance feed from this morning. “Will you need to scan my personal devices as well?”

“I am not authorised to do so, since under level four clearance, you will not have been permitted to take personal copies of relevant information.”

“Forgive me, I merely wished to be certain.” Opening the security menu on the terminal, he checks his settings. Shouldn't be too much of a risk since he isn't amateur enough to conduct his outside dealings using work equipment. “Please go ahead.”

“Thank you,” says the officer once the progress bar has run its course. “No excisions required.”

“I try to keep things tidy.”

“Please sign the forms promptly. Good day.”

Doing as instructed, Ville wonders what will become of the staff and 'students' of the school. They must surely know plenty of juicy details that would be deleterious to Gjallarhorn's good name… on any other day, he'd consider stretching feelers in that direction, just to see what he might find…

The pad twitters. Fresh footage of two people on a street corner, a skinny blonde with a crutch beside a big, white-haired man, both huddled in cheap anoraks.

Ville snarls, grabbing his hat and dialling furiously. “Nanao,” he snaps as soon as the comm connects, “the Warren boy and his employer's pet thug are right outside the building! I cannot have them causing a scene here. Where the hell are you?”

««««««««««««⟸ ♊︎ ♠ ♊︎ ♠ ♊︎ ♠ ♊︎ ⟹»»»»»»»»»»»»

P.D. 327 – More than two years after Tekkadan's last battle; Chryse, Mars

First time Embi takes Fly-Away, he doesn't stop giggling for four hours.

He floats on a cloud of painlessness, the ghosts and memories lost somewhere way below him as the vapour swirls happily inside his head. His brother is dead. He's constantly surrounded by the people Elgar died for. And right now, he doesn't care. About any of it! It feels so good!

Crashing afterwards sucks. Not getting the shakes bad. It just stinks to be stuck with all the usual feelings. He has fucked-up nightmares about carrying Elgar through the desert, a dead weight clinging tight to his back. Barely gets through the day without starting a fight. Tries to punch Hirume for asking what's wrong.

The solution is obvious. Embi gets some more Fly-Away and the second time is even better.

So it becomes a pattern. Get the money to buy what he needs to make things a little less shit for a while. Burn through that. Rinse. Repeat.

Everyone keeps telling him he needs to find something to live for, right? He guesses this is it.

««««««««««««⟸ ... ፨ ... ፨ ... ፨ ... ⟹»»»»»»»»»»»»

P.D. 329 – Some time later; a private dining room at The Blue Horn, Vingolf

The Director General of the Inspection Bureau sniffs, as he is wont to do whenever he wishes to delay speaking. “Lord Iznario's death is being ruled misadventure. As… anticipated.”

The Regulatory Chief of Staff eyes him from across the table, fingernails digging ever so slightly into the white cloth laid between them. “Indeed it is.”

There is a heavy pause, the kind filled with common understandings that cannot be said aloud.

“You don't think…”

“I wouldn't know.” The Chief of Staff adjusts her forks. “That falls in your purview, not mine.”

“The Police Bureau is… not my bag either. Unless there's evidence of misdemeanour, the investigation is beyond our scope.”

“Is there? Evidence?”

The Director General fiddles with the cuffs of his tunic. “Seems the old man just muddled his tablets and didn't care about watching his diet.”

“The Seven Stars always thought they were above mere mortals.”

“Yes. Yes…”

Another, heavily pause.

“Convenient, at least,” concludes the Chief of Staff. “One less remnant of the old order, hanging around.”

The Director General coughs. “You know I'll be retiring in the new year? Lord – I mean, Commander Elion has some up-and-coming young fellow picked out to replace me.”

“I heard. Is he up to the job?”

“Mm. Probably. Didn't… get much say in the decision.”

“How democratic.”

“Hm.”

A waiter glides into the third silence, bowing obsequiously. “Madam, sir? Your entrées.”

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

As I said, nothing especially mind-blowing. I also had a slightly different opening to the segment featuring the pluma, which I again cut for length, but that I rather liked, as a conceit.

««««««««««««⟸ 010 101 010 ⟹»»»»»»»»»»»»

Can a machine remember?

It is possible for a machine to record. Pluma ASW-A-H-011_sub:27 can access data on its previous combat deployments at any time, to support its tactical algorithms. It can return the dimensions of the space freighter it disabled on its last activation, the topography of the desert it traversed during the battle before that, or images of the colossal detonation that led to it becoming buried for ERROR: UNABLE_TO_SYNC years.

But that is not remembering as you would understand it. Memory is imperfect, riddled with loss of clarity and skewed by emotional prejudice. A machine records raw, uncaring facts, free from conscious understanding of why they occur. Even if it performs tasks based on the patterns it detects, even if that performance resembles intelligence, it is most likely nothing more than a cascade of hollow logic, as insensible to wider context as a pebble dropping into the sea.

These, then, are the facts.

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

On the subject of aborted starts, here is something I sketched for a putative 'Wistario segment' of the Arc 4 opening story, which as discussed never materialised:

Wisterio Afam is having a bad day. That is to say, he's not having a good day. In the grand scheme of things it probably doesn't count as truly terrible given that nothing is presently on fire and as far as he knows the colony isn't being attacked right this minute. He personally is being assailed from all sides but that largely seems to be on the scale of a cosmic joke whereby all his carefully laid plans are coming apart at the stitching.

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

And finally, just because I thought it was clever at the time, a reprise segment from Love, Death and Cannoli that I again cut for length, but that would have repeated the echoing memory trick from To Catch a Falling Star chapter 11, with Yamagi recalling lines of dialogue with Shino that were (mostly) from my fics rather than the anime:

««««««««««««⟸ �� 🛠 ⬡ 🛠 ⬡ 🛠 ⬡ ⟹»»»»»»»»»»»»

Suns turn into black holes if they get too big and die. So it is with his feelings. Gravitationally crushing.

I don't want perfect. I want you.

What a dumb thing to say.

(There's something wrong with me.)

But isn't it better to be wrong together than apart?

Do you think if we're both worrying it's our fault, that's a sign of something?

At least there are similarities in how they're screwed up, for whatever comfort that is.

(You're here and you're – you're mine.)

And Yamagi will hold on with hands and teeth and everything he's got.

Jeez, you're so uptight sometimes.

He can be fierce too, if it's necessary.

(Of course I want to be out there with you.)

Right to the very end.

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

I've a few more partial scenes in my planning document, but they're mostly things I reworked for the actual posted versions, rather than cutting entirely. Stuff like some of the flashbacks Shino has to his pre-Tekkadan days were originally in different places and the conversation between Yamagi and Ordsley wound up requiring a lot of changes as the story developed. I think that about covers all the major deviations from my original outline.

Oh, except for Gundam Paimon. I swear I meant to figure out what to do with that thing, eventually, but in the end it just remained hanging on the wall. Ah well.

#wishing on space hardware #fanfic #my fic #gundam #gundam ibo #gundam iron blooded orphans #g tekketsu #tekketsu no orphans #notes #writing #a peek at the process #there's probably a bunch more stuff I could have listed by this is all I can think of for the moment

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harrietvane · 5 months ago

Note

Hello,

I’ve just finished “Blue at the Mizzen” and I was wondering what your opinion is on the unfinished book is….

Have you read it? Would you recommend reading it or not?

I am so sad to be at the end of the books but ending on Jack so happy and relieved might be the best place to stop?

Would really value your opinion as I know you know the books well.

Warmly,

Rosanna

Ooh this is a tough one - because my own approach (thus far) is not one I’d necessarily recommend? The thing is: I have not read it.

However! Complicated reasons for that. One is a personal weirdness of mine where I am oddly resistant to watching or reading the ‘final’ instalment of a thing. I have noticed myself doing this a lot: I’ll just leave the very last episode unwatched, the last book in a long running serialised saga unread. This is not a recommended practice, it’s what I’d call ‘a super dumb thing to do’, and I’d categorise that as a symptom (of what? Who knows! I’m an undiagnosed delight). Is it because if they fumble the last instalment it leaves a bad taste for the whole series? Maybe. Is it because if there’s still one left, then there’s still Something Out There and the experience of discovering new writing isn’t over yet? Could be! Anyway, it’s a silly thing to do and I don’t recommend it as an approach to media. Go forth and read!

Having said that, I do have an aversion, generally, to publishing bits and pieces of an author’s notes as though it were finished work. I think it feels like being asked to have the mindset where a creative endeavour is ‘content’ to consume, rather than a constructed, deliberate work - “it’s their words and you want more words! So here’s more!”. O’Brian seems, from the work, and from interviews, to be a bit of an exacting, deliberate sort of creator - taking 3 chapters of some unedited typescript and adding some handwritten elements that didn’t even get to editing stage feels uhhhhh vaguely intrusive? Ahhhh why am I like this, that’s not even a reasoned response, and should not be taken as direction lol. I should back away slowly from this sort of parasocial contortion!

Like, I’m all for publishing someone’s essays, collected letters, all kinds of ephemera - that’s it’s own thing. But taking something which is a specifically a work In Progress, and publishing it as though it were a presentable book (a voyage of Jack Aubrey), didn’t really appeal to me. Which is contradictory of me as I do enjoy artists proofs, sketchbooks, and unfinished paintings! I contain multitudes.

At the end of the day it felt a bit like the publisher going “I’m going to tell you a new Aubreyad story, but we don’t know if O’Brian was going to tell it in this way, really, and also I’m going to stop partway through” which I didn’t fancy experiencing. So, at this point I tend to finish up at 20 and go back to 1. Never say never though - maybe the various editor’s notes, forewords, and afterwords would help me enjoy it as a fragment, rather than a presented work. It’s at least 3 chapters of (more or less) O’Brian prose, which is better prose than one often finds.

Please don’t let me stop you for any reason. Read on! If you go ahead and read it, post your thoughts?

#replies #je-pas

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pancake-breakfast · 1 year ago

Text

I should be sleeping, but I'm not known for my wisdom in that particular field, so on with Trigun Book Club!

Archive

Trigun Volume 1: Covers + 1-3, 3 Detailed Thoughts, 4, 4 DT, 5-6, 5-6 + DT, 6 DT, 7-8, 9-10

Trigun Volume 2: Covers + Extras, 1, 1 Supplemental Research, 2-4, 5-6, 7-8

TriMax Volume 1: Covers + 1-2, 2 DT, 3-4, 3 DT, 5-6

TriMax Volume 2: Covers + 1, 2-4

Stream-of-consciousness thoughts for TriMax Vol. 2, Chapter 5 below.

Chapter 5: Desperado

Oh, no. They're coming for Vash's friends on the sand steamer.

Wait, that's the girl from the end of the last chapter, huh? That means they can't be far from Milly and Meryl.

Nico-oniisaaaaaaan!!!

"Did your work go well?" Heh. I'll note he does not answer this question. Nicholas D. Wolfwood. The "D" is for "Deflection."

Gods, his hands. This is so much more traumatic in context.

NIGHTOW, WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING HERE, LITERALLY ON THE SAME PAGE AS THAT NIGHTMARE?!?!

NM, it's just Vash's bad driving. Or maybe he noticed WW wasn't sleeping so good and decided to unsubtly wake him up?

LOL, I have SO MANY THOUGHTS about what's going on in WW's head here, but they're all spoilers, so I'll keep them to myself.

LOLOLOLOL, WW dragging unconscious Vash into the inn and demanding two rooms is just so funny to me. Like, no wonder these people are staring at him like that. They must have SO MANY QUESTIONS.

I assume there will only be one room. And one bed. Edit: My assumption was wrong.

LOL, nothing wakes Vash up quite like the sound of someone else in need, trying to do the right thing against impossible odds.

He's so cute when he's semi-conscious.

WW, what the hell life have you been living? I'm so sorry, my guy. No wonder Vash is giving you such a headache.

I wish I could find a suitable picture to show just how much this building looks like the old Spanish missions dotting the landscape in certain parts of the Southwestern U.S., but it seems like 99.9999% of the pictures are of the buildings inside the walls... or of the ones that have been extensively renovated rather than having crumbly bits like so many of them do. (Also, it's late and so I can't be arsed to do a detailed search. Maybe this will help get my point across? IDK, I'm not writing an essay on Spanish missions right now. I already did that back in 4th grade.)

If I had a son who was recklessly hellbent on getting himself killed alongside me as I defended the town/inn/whatever, I'd tie him up and lock him away, too.

LOL, dehydrated Vash. Gods, babygirl is in baaaaad shape. He's trying, though.

I dunno, a half-dead Vash is still probably pretty competent.

Is now a good time to point out that the word "Desperado" means "The Desperate"? (Also, apparently it's not actually Spanish. We're learning things today in Trigun Book Club.)

"What was that, Vashie?" *Vash barks insistently* "You think you can come up with a plan?" *Vash barks enthusiastically* "Ok, I trust you, boy!" *Vash wags his tail.*

Some quick Spanish notes on page 134 here for those who may not hear these terms so frequently: Mi Amigo = my friend (may not actually indicate a friend; can also be used to create a mock-friendly tone in a situation where intimidation is coming into play) Jefe (pronounced "heh-fay") = slang term meaning "boss" or "leader" (can also be used sort of like "man" or "dude" in English, or in a mock-friendly tone to kinda rub in that the person being called "jefe" is not in charge of the situation) Comprende? = Do you understand?

This guy has too many teeth. And a weird way of standing. Is... is he wearing metal underwear?? What kind of weirdness do you have to go through to get this kind of anatomy? How does he close his lips??? M... maybe it's a mask of some sort??

Holland en Flambe sounds like a dessert.

Rest in peace, vodka. I'm sure someone out there misses you.

Hahahahaha, this kid. He's having to hold the whole weight of intimidation because Vash looks like a rag doll someone left out in the rain too long. Wait. Does Wolfwood know Vash is here?? Heheheheheheheh.... BF's gonna be maaaaaaad....

I love Vash's expression through this bit. He's trying, but he does NOT have the energy for this right now.

FWOOM

Listen to your father, Rob.

Ohhhhh, shit.

Ok, I LOVE LOVE LOVE this. I love the absolute chaos of the top part taking over the whole page, with this guy's shouting bearing down on Vash and the family from the top, claws sweeping in from the left with a motion so fast and deadly it leaves motion lines going all the way up the page... and then, cutting in at the bottom, in a panel that's practically pure-white serenity, the soft but definite *click* of the Punisher's machine gun opening. Beautiful.

And, of course, we turn the page into a two-page spread of Wolfwood letting 'er rip, adding a more controlled and entirely different type of chaos to the scene.

LOL, BF's mad. Just a little, though. Confusion has tempered his anger.

Ok, this, though. How the angle goes from him carelessly tapping Vash on the head with his gun (while practicing shit trigger discipline, I might add) to us looking up at Wolfwood from a perspective very close to what Vash's would be if he could lift his head. How, in the second panel, Wolfwood looks like a desperate man about to pull an executioner's trigger out of fear and confusion for the unknown before him. How, even so, he's debating if Vash is actually the monster he's heard of when there's so much evidence that, despite superhuman skills that Wolfwood has witnessed multiple times firsthand, Vash seems so kind and cares so much for people he ends up in this situation even while half-dead.

Meanwhile, Vash seems to be taking well-deserved nap....

#i hope he's dreaming of donuts #trigunbookclub #trigun maximum #volume 2 #pancake thoughts

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happilydistinguishedbanana · 2 years ago

Text

Fallen Pt. 1: Questions

Authors note: Ahhh I’m so excited for this!! This is a alternate reality where the reader wakes up in the Star Wars universe!! I have been wanting to do this for a while, but I have not been the first. I would like to credit Eagleness and Talita01 on AO3 for the idea. If there is anyone else who has done the same, please let me know! This is also pre-Echo era, but he will appear later. Also please let me know if I should choose just a single batcher for the reader to be with or all of them!

Warnings: Blood, vomiting

Summary: One day I’m watching my favorite show in my college dorm room. The next morning I wake up in a hospital with no idea how I got there and two Jedi who are just as confused as myself.

Word count: 2458

Relationship: Undecided Batcher(s) x Female Reader

Part 2

As much as I loved bar hopping with my friends and drinking until I can’t tell the difference between left and right, I hate waking up the next morning with a hangover and a 2,000 word essay due for my college midterm.

“Come on, Sweetie.” My friend Corey moaned, her arm grasping my own with a vice like grip. “Just a few drinks and then we’ll take you home.”

I rolled my eyes. The last time they promised that, I got home after 4:00 am and missed two of my morning classes. Although it didn’t make much of a difference then, I couldn’t afford it this time. “No, I’m not going.”

“What a buzzkill.” One of Corey’s friends whispered to her obnoxious boyfriend. I never liked her and her long nails and her fried hair that she straightened far too often. Her voice sounded like metal scratching on metal and I had no idea how she managed to become friends with someone as nice as Corey. But maybe Corey was the desperate one.

“I’m sorry Corey.” I whispered. “I can’t go tonight, I have stuff due tomorrow.”

She frowned, but dropped my arm and shuffled over to her other friends. She looked back and forth between me and my dorm room's door. “A-are you sure?” She stuttered, her fingers lightly gripping the doorknob. They trembled.

“Corey-”

“Let’s go.” Her friend whined, coddling up to her boyfriend as if she would die if she stood there any longer. I don’t think he minded though seeing as he groped her in the ass. “This new bar opened up, right by that good Chinese place. I’m staaarving.”

“Yeah, come on Corey.” The boyfriend jumped in. “We’re wasting time sitting around here.”

“Leave her, girl.” The girl clicked her tongue impatiently. Sometimes I wonder how Corey got dragged into being friends with people like that. They’re nothing special, and even she doesn’t seem to like them. Maybe I’m delusional.

“Alright.” Corey nodded, giving me one last look before opening the door and leaving with her lackluster friends. I couldn’t help but notice the unshed tears pooling in her eyes.

I pulled out my phone quickly to send her a text, but my battery was dead. Stumbling through my dorm, I frantically searched for a charger. Under the bed, in the dresser, on my nightstand, even inside the mini fridge, but it was like it vanished.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” I ran my hands through my hair. If I couldn’t find my cord, I wouldn’t be able to text Corey, and if her friends are as bad as they seem, they might leave her to find a way back to the dorms. What if she needed a ride? What if something happens? What if she just needs a friend to talk to?

I tapped my foot nervously before deciding that slumping down in my bed and pulling out my computer would be my best course of action. Maybe finishing my essay would distract me enough.

I scroll through what I had written, rereading paragraph after paragraph only to find that everything was finished and edited. All I would need to do was print the damn thing and submit it tomorrow morning. I could have gone out with Corey after all.

But it was too late to do anything about it now. My hands moved to open a new tab and click onto the familiar bookmark that I kept close to my heart. The website started up and I eagerly opened my favorite pastime of my college years. The Bad Batch.

I had watched the infamous Star Wars saga when I was young, usually with a bowl of popcorn and my favorite drink to go with. My father watched the first ever movie when he was just a child in 1977 and after he had kids of his own, he wanted them to experience the same joy he had felt. It stuck with me and I continued to watch any show related to it since.

But the Bad Batch was something I had gotten into a little later than everyone else. Both seasons were released when I started watching it and after several long months, today was the day I was going to finish it. It would have been exciting if I didn’t already know what happened. Spoilers still reached my ears no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.

“Plan 99.” Tech said through the screen, my own lips quoting every word. I watched him fall to his death and despite knowing he was going to die, I still felt sad. But I did not cry, I hardly ever cried when I was sad and this certainly was not an exception. And maybe a part of that was influenced because Tech’s death just didn’t feel solid. It felt fake. It didn’t feel as real as when Echo “died” or when Gregor “died.” Something was missing from the equation.

My eyes started to droop by the time I finished the final episode. I checked the clock to see it was past 12:00. Corey wasn’t home, she wouldn’t be at this time. I tried to stay up to wait for her, to make sure she came back all in one piece. But the draw of sleep was just too hard to resist. I fell into a fitful rest.

***************

I did not share a room with anyone, so when I drifted awake, I laid rigidly when I heard several voices just outside the door. Several male voices though they sounded strangely familiar.

When I opened my eyes, I became even more confused. This was not my room. Bright lights were shining on me as if I was some test subject. There were medical monitors and white walls and the stale smell of medicine and disinfectant.

A hospital. I was in a hospital.

I sat up and took in my surroundings even more. I wore a medical gown, there were no handles on the doors, the male voices outside were still there, a… droid was sifting through a drawer on the opposite side of the room?

My breath caught in my throat. A part of me knew that I was not in any danger, but seeing a hunk of metal the size of a grown man, pulling out needles and bottles out of a drawer did nothing to calm my nerves. I certainly did not feel any better when he? It? Turned to me and started speaking in a language I did not know.

“Wait!” I jumped out of the cot when it tried to grab me by the arm. I stumbled back into some of the equipment, glass and metal and wires crashing into the floor with me. The droid skittered around still speaking gibberish as if it became flustered and confused.

I whipped my head around when the door slid open. I audibly gasped when none other than Mace Windu and Obi Wan Kenobi stepped through the door, their lightsabers in their hands like second nature, ready for use.

They were on alert until they saw me on the floor. They sheathed their sabers and gave each other a look I couldn’t read.

Windu went to calm down the droid while Obi Wan headed over to me. He was speaking to me, saying words I’m sure anyone else could understand. I stared at him blankly and suddenly he stopped, turned, said a few words to Windu, and then pulled me up by the shoulder and placed me back on the cot. He then ushered the droid out of the room leaving Windu and I alone.

I could feel pain in my shoulder, and I reached back with my hand to find out why. It came back bloody. I shivered before rushing over to the sink at the other end of the room and vomited. I felt a warm hand on my back and mumbled words which I knew were words or reassurance. But I still couldn’t understand anything.

Windu started to dress my wound, though it was done rather poorly. He said nothing more to me, and it gave me a moment to think.

I’ve seen stuff similar to this in movies and T.V shows.Young boys traveling to the past, superheroes ending up in alternate universes, people using telephone booths as a time machine, I’ve even had dreams about similar concepts. But this certainly didn’t feel like a dream. I never had a dream that felt so real, I never felt pain in a dream, never felt the coolness of air filtering in through a vent, never smelt the stale disinfectant smell of hospitals. Could this reality be real?

Windu finished right in time for Obi Wan to return, a datapad in hand. They both chatted to each other quietly, Obi Wan waving the device in the air. Windu nodded and then left the room.

I watched Obi Wan hesitantly. He was one of my favorite characters, but I don’t throw my trust around blindly. And knowing him, I’m sure he doesn’t trust me either.

He approached me and pushed the data pad close to my mouth. He pointed a finger at his lips, said a few words, and then pointed to the data pad. It picked up his words, printing them onto the screen and displaying them in a language that I had seen written on billboards in the show but never took the time to understand.

I opened my mouth to speak and said the first thing that came to mind. “I need to fucking pee.”

It took a moment for the scanner to pick up what I said, but eventually words started to form on the screen. Obi Wan turned it around, looked at it and then laughed. His eyes glittered while he tinkered with the device and then he spoke a few more words into it and handed it over to me.

How badly? It read.

I gave him a knowing look and he laughed again and gestured towards the door. I felt a bit vulnerable in just my gown, but I followed him anyway. We weren’t on Kamino, I knew that much. Maybe Coruscant? There weren't any windows in the medical facility I was put in. The walls were white and medical droids and other patients walked the hallways, but there wasn’t a clone in sight. It must be a local hospital.

Obi Wan was speaking to me as best as he could through the datapad. Simple questions like my name and age and how I ended up passed out in front of the Jedi Temple. That was something I could not answer. I kept quiet for the most part about where I was from or what I was doing before now. If it was true that I fell through into another universe, I don’t think it would be smart to tell a Jedi Master that.

The bathrooms are just up ahead. He said and I thanked him.

Eventually he took me outside the facility, and I got a view of what was the bustling city planet known as Coruscant. Speeders and ships flew through the air, hundreds of people and aliens alike walked the streets as if today was just any other day. For them it was a normal day. For me, it might have been my worst nightmare.

We walked to the Jedi Temple, the sheer size intimidating. I started to think that they might use some Jedi mind tricks on me, break down any sanity I had just to find the truth. And then another part of me thought that they had no idea and really I was just some random girl who showed up on their doorstep. But what worried me the most was if they thought I was some Separatist spy. Thinking that made me question which was worse. Psychological torture or physical torture.

But all of my worries vanished once we were inside. It was like everything suddenly got brighter, happier, and more peaceful. It was like a breath of fresh air, and suddenly I was calm. Jedis clad in long robes of brown and white and gray walked casually about, their footsteps eerily quiet. It smelt like honeysuckle and tea. Old. It smelt really old.

Kenobi spoke again. I glanced at the datapad in my hands. You’ve calmed. I nodded and he continued to talk. You weren’t before. I could sense your unease, but I could also sense that you are familiar with me and Master Windu. Isn’t that right?

I didn’t answer. He wasn’t wrong, I knew him a hell of a lot more than he might think. Windu more or less.

“Why are we here?” I asked as if I was clueless.

To talk. He said no more.

It was intimidating to be in front of some of the strongest Jedis in the Star Wars universe. They all eyed me like I was something to be feared, something to be watched and kept on a five foot long leash. And I felt vulnerable and scared, my shoulders still boring that sickly smelling hospital gown.

Each had their own datapad, all except for Master Yoda. They asked questions, simple at first, almost the same things Obi Wan had asked me earlier, and then they started asking me things that required more complicated answers. Sometimes I would only give half answers, sometimes I would give no answers at all. But I would not lie. It would be pointless if I did.

They came to a verdict at the end of it all. I would be assigned a clone force, I wasn’t told which, but I had my suspicions. I would be watched, listened to, examined and picked apart at.

“Honest, you have not.” Yoda told me. Those were the first words I heard in a language I actually knew. “Find out, we will.”

I was put in a nice room in the Jedi Temple, but it lacked the warmth of a well lived home. Everything was white, the sun shined in, bouncing off the walls and encompassing my room in this bright glow. I hated it. The bed was comfortable, but it didn’t compare to my room back at the college. There were nice clothes in the closet. I could tell they were put there just this day. It reminded me of what Senator Amidala was so often seen wearing in the show. I would hardly compare even if I dressed in the fine and flowy silks.

I’d fallen asleep feeling exhausted emotionally. But deep down, somewhere in that small part of me that was actually excited to be here, I wished that whoever I was put with, I hoped it was the rowdy bunch known as The Bad Batch.

#crosshair x reader #echo x reader #hunter x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #the bad batch #star wars #x reader #the bad batch x female reader #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb echo

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aaronburrdaily · 1 year ago

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August 29, 1809

I did go to bed at 10, promising myself a rich sleep. Lay two hours vigil¹; that cursed one single dish of tea! Note: My bed had undergone a thorough ablution and there were no bugs or insects. Got up and attempted to light candle, but in vain; had flint and matches but only some shreds of punk which would not catch. Recollected a gun which I had had on my late journey; filled the pan with powder and was just going to flash it when it occurred that though I had not loaded it someone else might; tried and found in it a very heavy charge! What a fine alarm it would have made if I had fired! Then poured out some powder on a piece of paper, put the shreds of punk with it and after fifty essays succeeded in firing the powder; but it being dark, had put more powder than intended; my shirt caught fire, the papers on my table caught fire, burnt my fingers to a blister (the left hand, fortunately); it seemed like a general conflagration. Succeeded, however, in lighting my candle and passed the night till 5 this morning in smoking, reading, and writing this. "Essai sur le Caractere, les Moeurs et l'esprit des Femmes".² Par M. Thomas; second edition, Paris: 1772; small octavo, 215 pages. Well written; much historical information; many books, of which I had not heard, are quoted. He meant to be liberal and [a] friend to the sex, but like all I have read, has set out wrong; has not seen the source of the evil, though the evils are acknowledged, and of course has not found the remedy; this will remain for Gamp. "Tableau Litteraire de la France pendant le 18me. siecle." Sujet propose en 1806 par la Classe de la langue et de la litterature.³ Paris: 1807. Octavo; 91 pages; close printed; anon. This I presume to be a sort of prize piece. It is well written; his distinctions are pretty good but his eulogies extravagant. "Le Voyageur Fataliste"; comedie en trois actes en vers⁴; par Armand Charlemagne; Paris: 1806. I had foresworn French comedies and hate comedy in verse; this, though long, was not found tiresome. "Rapprochement des Arbres".⁵ Duodecimo, about 150 pages. Paris: 1807; par ———. Where have I laid that book? Will find it to-morrow and give you the author's name. It is a new discovery by which you give to any tree the sap and nourishment of another or of some branch of another, and by this means you may change and improve the colour, size, and flavour of any fruit. The results are curious and useful; pray try it. You see, Madame, I have not been idle; now allow me to attempt sleeping.

29. P.M. Slept very well till 10 when Mr. D. came in a la souedoise⁶ on some very urgent message, which I answered only by a round of curses. However, I was waked and got up. Took breakfast at \i. Feuilliéd⁷ (rummaged) in the library for two or three hours (there is an arrival of new books from Paris); then walked out with Gransbom to try the market for guineas; changed four at 8 rix dollars 36 sch. each. Waited an hour for Barth without success. Called at the post-office; no letters. No doubt my letters are stopped by the British government! 'Tis impossible that every human being can have forgotten me for four months. For my female friends I would swear, but what remedy. Me voici.⁸ Post I will go off to Hamburg or Memel. As soon as I can find Barth will hunt for passages to ——— everywhere and then determine. Called at the lodgings of Bar. Ulfspasre, for whom I had a letter from London and just now determined to deliver it; has left town. Home at 6. On the way called to see Captain Van Alen. Mjolk and brö. for middag and afton.⁹ Read an hour or two in "L'ltineraire de l'Allemagne"¹⁰; Paris: 1807. You see I am preparing! Read also a treatise (French) on the authority of parents, i.e. fathers, for women are not in question. Cannot now lay hand on it to give you the title, but will find it. The subject was proposed by the Institut National and this book gained the approbation and the prize. In my opinion no way flattering to the genius of the nation. There is, indeed, a good deal of historical fact, but much declamation and flourish.

1 This word, which has been used several times, is a Latin adjective meaning wakeful. 2 "Essay on the Character, the Morals (or Manners), and the Mind of the Women." 3 "Literary Picture of France During the Eighteenth Century." A Subject Proposed (proposé) by the Class in Language and Literature [of the French Academy]. 4 "The Fatalistic Traveler." A comedy in verse in three acts. 5 "The Bringing Together (Junction) of Trees." 6 For à la suédoise. After the Swedish fashion. 7 Another hybrid verb, and badly formed, from French feuilleter, to turn over the leaves of a book. 8 Here I am. 9 Swedish. Evening. 10 "Itinerary of Germany."

#burr. burr. BURR. A GUN?! A MF *GUN*?!#aaron burr #the private journal of aaron burr

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hellogirlslikegirlslikeboysdo · 11 months ago

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And the lights are not fluorescent, and there are no words on the page. - Author's Preface

Author's Preface and Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7 Note: This author's preface was written with the intention of only being read by my professor, who had already read each rough draft of every piece, but I left it intact because I felt it set the tone of the collection quite well.

Description: My final portfolio for one of the creative writing courses I took based around exploring the creative nonfiction essay in its many literary forms, with any and all identifying names or signifiers censored out.

I am a deliberate person.

I am also a writer before I am a person. Therefore, it stands to reason that I am a deliberate writer before any and all else. Before the urge to bend and snap and smush any piece of prose I’ve crafted straight after the 24-hour mark, before the fear of losing the original magic of the first or second, or even eleventh draft. Before the anxious, unshakable anticipation of letting a piece be, of leaving it to stew in unremarkable and precisely nauseating amateurity. The kind that gets a “Oh, it’s greaaaat!” at the family reunion and a toss in every publisher’s discard bin.

That is why, if you are to look back at my original rough drafts and the revisions offered to you below, you will find my edits obvious, particular, and, to a degree, self-explanatory. In my evaluation and reevaluation (and re-reevaluation) of these individual pieces, I have established the weakest spots of their prose to require, by and large, a slight fine-tuning of creative/narrative voice, and, above all else, a reframing and recontextualizing of these essays and what they are (along with what I am) attempting to say. In doing so, I hope, and almost believe, that I have reinvisioned (thus, giving myself room to reinvent) the way each essay approaches its intended reader, and in turn, the silent avenues in which the reader is allowed, and encouraged, to approach it.

#creative nonfiction #essay #author's note #revision #chaotic academia #short chapter #writing process #creative writing #first chapter #nonfiction #creative process #writing

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secret-strawberry · 2 years ago

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tagged by @palewhitehorse to do these! thank you!!

What book are you currently reading? like 3 at once that I got for Christmas but mostly The Gun Seller by Hugh Laurie. it's a comedy spy novel which doesn't sound like a genre i'd be into but so far i am enjoying myself a lot i think it's hilarious lol

What’s your favorite movie you saw in theaters this year? this has made me realize that i don't think i saw any movies in the theatre this year?? what??? well. i've been watching the Scream movies for the first time at home and i like them!

What do you usually wear? i'd say a hoodie and jeans is my go-to

How tall are you? 5'6!

What’s your Star Sign? Do you share a birthday with a celebrity or a historical event? virgo; i was born the day hurricane katrina started

Do you go by your name or a nick-name? i use L online now which my discord friends call me sometimes. yes i got it from death note but I like it as a second name because it's very gender

Did you grow up to become what you wanted to be when you were a child? i wouldn't say i'm completely grown up yet but no, my plans have changed quite a bit from when I wanted to be a pediatrician. i want to be a psychologist now :)

Are you in a relationship? If not, who is your crush if you have one? nope! i had a crush on this guy a while ago after we talked for like an hour while waiting in the airport but it left once i realized i didn't actually know much about him- i think my mind constructed someone to fixate on because it was bored 💀

What’s something you’re good at vs. something you’re bad at? i'm going to half-copy vi and say i'm good at editing prose/writing essays but i'm horrible at following through with projects due to losing interest/motivation </3

Dogs or cats? in theory, cats, but i've never had one so i couldn't say if i'd end up preferring that to dog ownership

If you draw/write, or create in any way, what’s your favorite picture/favorite line/favorite etc. from something you created this year? hmmm. i like this line from my poem "On Love that will Outlive Me" about a girl who takes on the ocean as her (metaphorical?) lover: "I suppose I was selfish in choosing you. When I'm gone, I will not feel the loss of it." But I don't really have favorite lines individually; usually what I'm most proud of is a paragraph of nice description or a piece that ties up a theme neatly. My favorite piece I did this year (technically still a WIP but) is a short story called "Someone Still Loves You" because it explores the concept of community grief.

What’s something you would like to create content for? as you can probably tell by my ao3 lol i love writing for light and L because their relationship is so weird that it's fun to explore. also, i feel comfortable with their characters because i know them well (or i like to think i do)-- so any franchise that matches those two qualifiers i would love to dive into as well (house md, for example!)

What’s something you’re currently obsessed with? sherlock holmes is my current fixation; it's not as intense as my House M.D phase but lately I've been really interested in reading all of the original stories and watching CBS' Elementary. i think i'll probably do Columbo next.

What’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year? i'm not sure, i guess my birthday? i didn't end up celebrating because it was right around the time that 2 of my close friends moved away and i had to cut off another one ,,, yikes

What’s a hidden talent of yours? not sure if this qualifies as a talent but people always seem shocked when they find out i know American Sign Language (HUGE hyperfixation during middle school, i went through 5 courses online and self-taught)

Are you religious? not anymore!

What’s something you wish to have at this moment? mm peaches (i'm playing animal crossing)

these questions were great :D i'm going to tag @ceeingstars, @bemorekleinman, @akireu-13, @mxoreo, and @random-blep if y'all feel like doing this, but no pressure!

#speaking into the ether

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goodbye-yashiro · 3 years ago

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My brain so much isn't working that I had to use Google Translate to read the dam' text out loud. And while I'm at it! (I was writing a post for a week, but it's too long, I couldn't ever finish it :P) It's a quick, messy post because I have to study. EDIT: It took me two afternoons to finish.

ADHD study tips!

- BeLineReader is some super useful, it colors text gradient, has an open dyslexic font, and clean/reader mode! (Tho it "expires" after a few weeks, and you have to delete and download it again.)

- Grammarly is good, but it sure can get annoying with it telling you you misplaced a comma, but refusing to tell where.

- Rereading the notes you took in class is always better than nothing. Pro tip: reread them before going to bed, and right before class, because our brains process information at night.

- When you have to do an essay/PPT, Ctrl+F is your friend. Also, write down questions or keywords you want it to be about. Write a "first draft," a little messy, that only you (but you do) understand, and only when done start to reword it with "fancier words."

Include the terms you've learned in class. Teachers like to hear themselves back.

- If fancy words, I have two sites for you: scribens.com (a grammar checker), rhymezone.com (it has everything word-related you could ever need).

- Highly recommend Weava Highlighter too! You can highlight and save text from any site or PDF and even add notes.

- When doing a PPT use the automatic design ideas and pictures, pictures, pictures - it's easy and will look a lot better.

- Copy-past sentences from your sources and reword them, change the word order on the slide, use the original sentence when presenting.

- Use Comic Sans for writing notes/essays, but if not comic sans, some neat font. Copy-past a text from Tumblr into a document and you'll get the font Tumblr uses. (Which is apparently too long for me to include)

I like Courier New too.

- Have a paper for "junk thoughts" - write them down, but only deal with them later.

- Look for the fun things. Documentaries, history movies, colorized historical recordings exist.

-Tie it up with interests! You like making neat Tumblr posts? Great! Make neat Tumblr posts! IV. Henrick Moodboard. Make memes about it.

Explain it to someone in the most basic "meme language." "And then he goes..." "*something*" "Pathetic" "XY left the chat."

How fun is that??! (especially for literature and history)

- The effort rule (based on some experiment) the more effort you put into it, the more likely you will remember it. Sounds ridiculous, but...

put down your notebook in one corner of the room so you have to walk a little with every sentence, and take notes this way.

- Another ridiculous way to remember stuff is to place the information in unique places, so you will remember it for sure. Write that formula on an empty toilet paper roll no one had the energy to throw in the trash. Put a sticky note on the cheese in the fridge.

- I'm the kind of person who gets motivation from not doing the notes for myself but to make videos on the topic for the "next generations," because our school system su©ks.

- Have a document/bookmark folder with all the stuff you'll need!!!(links I mean) And go by the path of the links.

Like this:

X'o clock - Y'o clock - History, ancient Greece

[link of source for studying] [link of source for studying] [link of source for studying]

Y'o clock - Z'o clock - Rest

[link of a Tumblr blog you want to check out for new posts] [link of a short video you want to watch]

Make starting only take one/two clicks. Use a site blocker and only whitelist the few pages you'll need for 1) studying, and 2) in the breaks.

- This thing can automatically open a new tab (a link) at a given time.

- For note-taking in class: use an erasable pen.

- In the classes where the teacher simply can't explain, only jot down the keywords and look them up later. Check your book for illustrations and definitions. Works for just-pass-will-forget-everything-after-the-test subjects.

- Illustrate your notes. I like to doodle little figures in my notebook, it 1) keeps my hands busy

2) as I'm a visual type, it helps me remember where was a piece of information in my notes located, and

3) it forms a link in between dry and heavy information. (It personalizes things [countries, groups, ideologies], visualizes concepts, and brings color into events)

This is what my notes look like: (for strucutre - tho I love philosophy, so with my not-favorite subjects it's obviously a bit different...)

- As for sensory things:

☀️ Let there be light! Sunlight or some lamps with a cozy mood.

💻 "Play" with the settings of your screen, turn down the brightness, the saturation, etc.

👕 If you find it refreshing, maybe take a bath/shower before, or change your clothes to more comfortable ones.

🍃 Let in some fresh air, make sure the room isn't too hot, nor too cold.

🍹 Have a bottle of water by your side, so you don't forget to drink.

🎧 If you need some background noise, there are tons of ambient sound channels on youtube and there's also MyNoiseNet.

🎼 Or put on a music/playlist with only a few tracks looped. Or instrumental music. Or music in a foreign language. Just imagine learning history while some cinematic classical music plays. XD

If you feel bad, here's this site that might help you figure out why.

I plan to make other ADHD and autism posts soon. Till then, *casually salutes* I hope I helped some! :)

#adhd #actuallyadhd #school #advice #resources #reference #autism #actuallyautistic #study tips #online school #long post

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undertale-data · 3 years ago

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[Image Description: An Undertale chat box that has “WHY FANS LOVE UNDERTALE” at its center. Next to it are a line chart and an Egg from the Dating Hub on its left, and a CRIME measurer (also from the Dating Hub) on its right. End I.D.]

[Image Description: a pie chart titled, “LEVEL OF LOVE FOR UNDERTALE.” The textbox on the top right reads, “On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the least and 10 being the highest, how much do fans enjoy Undertale?” From the top going clockwise, 12 or 0% chose 5 and below; 23 or 1% chose 6; 98, or 4%, chose 7; 325, or 12%, chose 8; 529, or 20%, chose 9; and 1664, or 63%, chose 10. End I.D.]

It’s clear from all of the data analyzed so far that fans who took the time to answer our survey love Undertale. It is unlikely that they would have taken the time to answer so many questions if they had not, and even less likely that they would have come across our survey in the first place. Naturally, it comes as no surprise that 63% of our responders gave their love for Undertale a score of ten out of ten. 95% gave their love for Undertale a score of eight or higher, and only 12 responders responded with five or below, a number so small that their responses had to be lumped together to be visible on the pie chart. Of those, only 3 responders gave their love for Undertale a score of 1, and based on those responders’ other answers, it is likely that they were only intending to troll. We are very fortunate that the vast majority of responders took the survey seriously, enough so that responses like this are barely a blip in the data.

Now, for our final analysis post of the event, we will delve into the reasons that fans love Undertale so dearly.

(Essay and highlights under the cut.)

There have been countless essays on the impact that Undertale has had on people’s lives. I can hardly add more on the subject than what has already been said, but I hope this summary can provide a brief overview of what stood out among the over two thousand answers given in response to this survey. That said, due to the sheer volume of answers, I could not read every single one in depth—however, I did skim all of them, and some that stood out or were representative of several responses have been highlighted below. If you would like to see what every fan who consented to share their response had to say, you may view the full list of responses here. Note that these responses have not been edited in any way. This document may take a long time to load, as it is over 100 pages long.

(Warnings for mentions of suicidal thoughts in the following essay.)

Several responders loved the theme of choices mattering in Undertale. Whether people played the pacifist, merciless, or neutral routes, they enjoyed how the game reacted to their actions. For some, it even made them consider their own morality. One touching response explained the impact that the theme of mercy made on them. “I realized that Mercy isn't something that's given to those who deserve it. Flowey didn't deserve it. I don't deserve it myself. Shoot, we ALL need Mercy in our lives.” Many fans left similar comments about how the themes of Undertale made them better people.

Undertale changed how its fans treat others, and it also changed how fans treat themselves. The theme of staying determined and the messages of hope in the game were a light to a very large portion of fans. I cannot list all of the fans who said that Undertale helped them out of a dark place, or that they would not be alive if not for Undertale. “DETERMINATION became a metaphor for not killing myself at a really rough time in my life and I’ll always cherish that. Undertale isn’t afraid to go to really dark places but at the same time holds on so tight to its hope.”

Undertale brought fans together in unexpected ways. Some said they met friends or significant others through the fandom. “I wouldn't have met my now husband without Undertale,” one fan said. A different fan who is non-native English speaking mentioned that the game and the fan community helped them to learn English.

It would be impossible to discuss Undertale without mentioning the fan community. Whether for good or bad, many responders mentioned the fandom in their responses. Overall the feelings towards the fandom seem positive, though many made references to “toxic” parts of the fandom without specifying which parts they consider toxic. Others rejected the idea of toxicity in fandom. One response said: “[SLAMS FIST ON DESK] I KNOW MOST PEOPLE SAY THE FANDOM IS TOXIC AND CRINGE OR WHATEVER BUT OH MY GOD. The Undertale fandom, both the UTMV and the actual UT fandom, has been so much fun to be a part of. I've met countless friends because of our shared interest in something related to the game! The art people create can be breathtaking and so inspirational, and the fanfics are so so good!! I've seen people write incredible things for this fandom and it's what made me continue writing!”

One thing that makes the Undertale fandom unique is the way it embraces various AUs. Some fans are tired of AU content, but the majority of responses show a love for the creativity behind AUs. “Roll your eyes at the 50th AU Sans all you want, it's encouraging people to step outside the boundaries of fanart and pushing people to make their own ideas! I mean, hell, it was how I gained the confidence to start making my own original content.” The lack of a judgemental atmosphere seems present in the AU community, according to the responses we saw. There is an interesting balance between AU and canon (sometimes referred to as “classic”) content that another responder pointed out: “The fandom helped keep the game alive all these years, with all of its AUs. Although personally, I always enjoyed AUs that kept characters as close to the classic material as possible (dancetale, outertale) I do appreciate the creativity of the fandom. They almost created entirely new stories with new characters of their own! If it weren't for those people, the Undertale fandom would have probably not been as active as it is now. I do feel like we're getting a resurgence of classic content now too! (In 2021)”

Regardless of the many AUs the fandom has created over the years, the original game of Undertale still feels like home for many fans. They wished they could reclaim the feeling of playing the game again for the first time, but even though we can’t reset time in real life, there is still a special feeling for fans each time they play Undertale. One fan said, “Even the best fics I've read can't capture that feeling of nostalgia/almost-"coming home" that comes with hearing the music and talking to the characters.” This feeling is one that can be cherished time and time again. In the words of another responder: “It always feels welcoming like home or like comfort food that I never grow tired of no matter how many times I go to it.” Others pointed out the strength of the found family trope in Undertale, which likely contributes to this feeling of “home” as well.

As mentioned briefly earlier, the music is part of what makes Undertale feel like home for fans. Even when responses focused on other aspects of the game, many would throw in a comment about the soundtrack at the end. One comment focused on the music said “IT'S SO GOOD like I will literally go through the entire thing over and over and not be bored with it. It makes my monkey brain so happy you have no idea.” Like with the game itself, the music has incredible replay value, an amazing feat considering most of the tracks use the same few motifs. “I think what I like the most about Undertale is how the music attaches you to the story,” another responder said. “They're simple melodies that stick with you throughout the whole game, and they can remind you of both good and bad times.”

If the music sticks with fans in their hearts, then the game’s lore sticks with fans in their minds. Even six years after the release of Undertale, fans are still creating new theories and digging up new secrets. The way the game breaks the fourth wall in particular intrigued many fans and has stuck out through all these years. The awareness that the game shows for the RPG genre makes it memorable. The game plays with the player’s expectations and turns them on their heads, all while reminding the player that they’re in a game. There are few other games that do this on such a large scale, so it’s no surprise that fans cite this as one of their favorite things about Undertale.

Lastly, the LGBT+ representation in Undertale has been a huge draw for fans. Especially in 2015, the sheer volume of non-cishet characters was unprecedented, as one fan pointed out: “It's practically unheard of to see so MANY from just one source, especially during its heyday in 2015-16. Hell, you can't even GET the true pacifist ending without helping two gay couples hook up. It's really nice to see all of them being accepted for who they are and not judged for their sexuality or gender, at least in-canon.” The LGBT+ cast including Frisk, Chara, Napstablook, Monster Kid, Mettaton, Alphys, and Undyne each connected with fans in unique ways. It’s clear how important this is from responses such as: “There are canon nonbinary characters 🥺. i have never seen representation of myself before.” “It made me gay and trans so thanks for that.”

Once again I am overwhelmed with just how much there is to say about Undertale. One responder really understood when they compared Undertale to an iceberg, explaining that there are so many layers to the game that there is something for everyone: “everyone can find something to enjoy in the lore/game regardless of what kind of fan they are! Being able to appeal to various types of fans—from simple happy shipper people to deep dive lorediggers—is the mark of the coolest games!” I would have to agree with them.

It’s been six years, and despite everything, it’s still you. Thank you for reading, participating in this survey, and above all, staying determined.

Highlights:

DETERMINATION became a metaphor for not killing myself at a really rough time in my life and I’ll always cherish that. Undertale isn’t afraid to go to really dark places but at the same time holds on so tight to its hope.

I think the coolest thing was having the opportunity to watch the AU community grow from its bare roots. It's nearly insane how big and complex it's gotten, unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Roll your eyes at the 50th AU Sans all you want, it's encouraging people to step outside the boundaries of fanart and pushing people to make their own ideas! I mean, hell, it was how I gained the confidence to start making my own original content.

i love how the lgbt rep is so naturalized... there are just gay people! and its nobodys business!

The music is my go to answer, but what I really really REALLY love is how the minor characters have so much personality to them when you talk to them. They aren't incredibly important to the overall story, but they're all so likeable and diverse that you just can't help but like them immediately!

I think it was the first videogame I have played that broke the fourth wall that much. Of course there has been other videogames that broke it but just for one or two tongue-in-cheek jokes. The guilt of killing mama goat was also something intense as well that I appreciated as an experience and that I didn't think a videogame could cause on someone.

I love how no character can be seen as completely bad! Everyone builds up Asgore as some horrible villain, but he turns out to be a 'fuzzy pushover' who's broken and just wants his family back by the time you meet him. Then you think Flowey's an irredeemable killer who engineered the suffering of the monsters across many timelines, and he is... but he also used to be the kind and beloved Prince Asriel Dreemurr, traumatized by his death and subsequent rebirth, projecting his best friend onto you.

The fact that choices matter in the game. Your first playthrough and getting the golden ending for the first time. I can never replicate those feelings again, wish I could erase my memories and replay the game from the start.

I wouldn't have met my now husband without Undertale.

(Toxic parts of the fandom aside) The community is possibly one of the kindest I've ever met. Cringe culture is completely dead, and I feel like I can be myself. I felt a very close connection to many of the characters, and I loved consuming content about them when I was in a rough patch in my life.

just everything, the whole game has just impacted my life so much. i know it sounds really lame, but when the game first came out, i would purposely put my hands in my pockets and sway slightly, like sans' idle animation. of course i dont do that anymore haha, but undertale still really impacts me to this day, and i wouldnt have it any other way :)

it made me gay and trans so thanks for that

I realized that Mercy isn't something that's given to those who deserve it. Flowey didn't deserve it. I don't deserve it myself. Shoot, we ALL need Mercy in our lives.

The thing I love most about Undertale is no matter how many times I play or watch a playthrough it always makes me genuinely happy. It always feels welcoming like home or like comfort food that I never grow tired of no matter how many times I go to it. Toriel still makes me feel all warm and cozy in her home, the Skelebros always make me laugh, and I still cry on the inside watching Frisk comforting Asriel. And on the flip side the No Mercy run still invokes the negative emotions in me as well. In short Undertale just feels like a second home to me and I always wish I could stay.

The reader inserts are my favorite way to decompress after a hard day

I think Undertale helped me discover my love for 8-bit games, and made me realize how IMPORTANT music is in video games.

the worldbuilding and character design are my favorite parts of the main game apart from the music! I’m also a huge fan of the random AU music- not for like underswap or underfell i like the stuff where someone makes a megalovania for a random au where gru from despicable me replaces sans as the character. i think its funny

Just... the vibe, honestly? Even the best fics I've read can't capture that feeling of nostalgia/almost-"coming home" that comes with hearing the music and talking to the characters.

there are canon nonbinary characters 🥺. i have never seen representation of myself before.

[SLAMS FIST ON DESK] I KNOW MOST PEOPLE SAY THE FANDOM IS TOXIC AND CRINGE OR WHATEVER BUT OH MY GOD. The Undertale fandom, both the UTMV and the actual UT fandom, has been so much fun to be a part of. I've met countless friends because of our shared interest in something related to the game! The art people create can be breathtaking and so inspirational, and the fanfics are so so good!! I've seen people write incredible things for this fandom and it's what made me continue writing!

There's a scene where Frisk (the player) is going towards what is presumably going to be their death. They will fight Asgore and he will use their human soul to break the barrier and free his people. The music, despite the player's impending doom, is... triumphant. You are not the triumphant one here, and yet, the score invites you to experience the monsters' joy and happiness as they tell you the tale of their subjugation. The monsters are going to be free. This is their victory, but they don't hate you or want you to die. They're just... happy. That scene has always struck me very deeply. I feel it represents the best parts of Undertale.

I loved how well thought out the Geno route was. It really made me feel like I was doing something horrible, and the characters were very obviously reacting to dire circumstances.

I dunno? I like Undertale for it's characters, story, music, secrets and many more. I am not good with Headcanons but I also like the neutral endings and how different they can depending on who you spare and kill

I was very bad at english before, i thought i couldn't progress because i was very shy and not confident. But my sibling and i wanted to have the best experience with this game so we wanted to play it in english. It's this game and the fandom which helped me to make huge progress in english !

THE SOUNDTRACK. IT'S SO GOOD like I will literally go through the entire thing over and over and not be bored with it. It makes my monkey brain so happy you have no idea.

to avoid writing an essay i will say one word. Mettaton

It is like Toby specifically made the games to fit the iceberg meme and it's awesome, everyone can find something to enjoy in the lore/game regardless of what kind of fan they are! Being able to appeal to various types of fans - from simple happy shipper people to deep dive lorediggers is the mark of the coolest games!

I love almost everything about Undertale as a game on its own. The music, the art and especially the characters and how they interact. They made me feel at home. Undertale means a huge amount to me. (I even got a tattoo of the castle when you and MK walk together!) The fandom helped keep the game alive all these years, with all of its AUs. Although personally, I always enjoyed AUs that kept characters as close to the classic material as possible (dancetale, outertale) I do appreciate the creativity of the fandom. They almost created entirely new stories with new characters of their own! If it weren't for those people, the Undertake fandom would have probably not been as active as it is now. I do feel like we're getting a resurgence of classic content now too! (In 2021)

the mystery. toby fox refused to give answers to anything and i think thats very sexy of him.

I just feel guilty for liking it so much when I'm in my 30's. But I recently got diagnosed with ASD, so I guess it explains things a bit. Many ppl consider Papyrus to be neurodivergent, and some adult fans are too, so seeing that makes me feel a bit better.

i think about "Despite everything, it's still you" everyday of my life.

I like how it's just as funny as it can be serious. All routes are this way. I laughed as much as I cried when I played the Pacifist route and then once I opened the game again and Flowey was telling me to let them be happy, I immediately turned off the game. I somehow felt bad.

The Found Family Trope

The True Pacifist Ending is just...man. And the fanworks about saving everyone even when the game doesn't let you? MANNNNNN

I think what I like the most about Undertale is how the music attaches you to the story. They're simple melodies that stick with you throughout the whole game, and they can remind you of both good and bad times.

there's honestly a LOT to love about this game, but i think one of my favorite things about it is just how many lgbt+ characters there are??? i can think of alphys, undyne, frisk, chara, mettaton, napstablook, monster kid, asgore, mad mew mew, the dress lion, the royal guards, and arguably even papyrus off of the top of my head, but im sure i'm forgetting a few from just undertale alone (there's even MORE in deltarune)!! it's practically unheard of to see so MANY from just one source, especially during its heyday in 2015-16. hell, you can't even GET the true pacifist ending without helping two gay couples hook up. it's really nice to see all of them being accepted for who they are and not judged for their sexuality or gender, at least in-canon.

[Image description: A wordcloud in the shape of the capitalized word UNDERTALE. The text is white on a black background, and uses the font found in the game. Some of the most visible words are: Game, Love, Music, Life, AU, Store, Friend, and Feel, which represent the most common words in the essays people wrote about their love for the game. End of ID]

#undertale #analysis #results #undertale fandom census

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izzy-b-hands · 2 years ago

Note

harvest, amber, and maize!

!!!! Thank u!!

TW for mental health stuff and a past incident with misogyny involved. The answers weren't gonna get serious but then they did, sorry y'all. If any of u read this all pls have this virtual prize: 🎃

Harvest - what fictional character do you most identify with? Why?

There's a good few on that list, but let's go with a recent one, and the one that'll piss off my regular Izzy Hands hater anon lmaooo. Hey bud, hope ur well! EDIT: ooh enjoy what essentially became my I Love Izzy essay aksjkfngn

Obviously, I mean Izzy. I'm gonna be like brutally honest abt myself now because why not frankly?

Like Izzy, I get left out of shit, or I'm the butt of the joke for being stringent abt rules and getting shit done before fucking around, and then fucking around mindfully if possible (but only with ppl who show they can't do both at the same time. It's a skill, honest.) It's happened since I was very little, and boy howdy you think I would learn right away that this means most ppl will hate u, but my little autistic ass did not! Izzy also apparently has not learned that yet, but I have my fingers crossed for him.

Like Izzy, I pick up the slack where I see it, in the hopes ppl I care abt aren't affected by any issues said slack might cause them. What my clinic job taught me with that, is that you make yourself indispensable and dependable yeah, but then they never promote you and stack more work on you until you break like that oar cracked over Ed's thigh. And that's bad!!! My mental and physical health prove it lmao. For Izzy's sake, I sort of hope something or someone in S2 makes him slow down before he either takes a fatal blow meant for Ed, or has a heart attack from stress.

Like Izzy, I'm not real good with love or affection. I hold a lot but I can't ever seem to figure out how to set it down or share it right with others. Compliments unsettle me before I can remind myself to shut the fuck up and just say thank you for it. I prefer, in work and school at least, to be mostly ignored as proof I'm doing well. Being pulled aside or asked for a meeting is instantly a sign I've fucked up, at least in the first instant lmao. I want to be more comfortable around others and be a better friend, a better son, a better person over all. But I don't know how to do it yet. I'm trying though. I know Izzy might not get that at all in the show, but ngl it would be cool if he did.

I'm noting the negatives mostly here because, like Izzy, the above shit means I've fucked up a lot. I've hurt ppl i didn't mean to, and ruined opportunities for myself. I've hidden from living my life beyond work and caring for others while neglecting myself, sometimes because I feel like that's all I deserve and other times to feel something.

But I'm not totally ruined, and in my opinion neither is Izzy. It'll take work on him as a character and what is in his arc for him to do and be better in any way, but I have a feeling that's not what we're too likely to get. And that's okay too, I'll just be happy for more Izzy aksnkfng. Even if he just let someone give him a hug by the end of the show, I'll take that.

Also, like Izzy, I'm a wonderful shag and I do look fucking amazing in leather 🖤

Amber - share an unpopular opinion that you may have.

Tbh I think the above essay might be it lmaooo

But here's a silly one to contrast the above answer: Ketchup is disgusting. It just is. Tomatoes are only good for pizza sauce, nothing else. Beating the tomato into a pulp and adding water and sugar does nothing good for it unless!! this is in the process to make the aforementioned pizza sauce.

Maize - share the weirdest encounter you’ve had with a stranger on the street.

Tbh my weirdest one is also my scariest one:

Back when I first started at the clinic and before I was out as trans/still wearing fancy dresses to work and heels (now they're an at home thing, not brave enough to wear them out anymore even when I want to)

this older dude started following me, trying to make conversation as I walked from my house to the downtown clinic (approx 12 blocks, through the downtown area of shops/restaurants, all not really open yet cuz it was like 640 AM). He's making me uncomfortable with the topics he brings up, i can only go so fast without outright running and i feel if i do that he'll just grab me. i tell him ill call the cops if he doesn't stop following me (i was dumb and like 19, now i wouldn't bother with the cops or want them involved at all)

i was lying. Back then i had a shitty iphone i hated and never used cuz no one ever called or texted me lmaoo so I lived on my ipod touch instead. this meant i never kept it charged, so it was a brick in my purse.

he met me on block four. He followed me until block eleven.

I kept trying to ignore him while i walked on, knowing I'd be late to open the clinic and fearing that fucking lecture from my asshole manager (fuck u Colette, get help before u manage anyone else)

But he's trying to snag my arm now, holding out his flip phone and telling me go ahead, do it, call the fucking cops! whore, slut, bitch, I'd pissed him off good. He claims he only wanted to find out the time from me, and that was his first question, before he asked if i wanted any company (even if i had, he wasn't my type)

I had passed only closed businesses until then, and i was starting to freak the fuck out. But, i was at block eleven, the clinic was within sight, just over the train tracks. if i could get a little closer to it, i could run and hopefully unlock the employee entrance, get in, and lock it before he caught up

Then, I see a woman cleaning the glass door of the Mexican restaurant a crosswalk and some feet away (it was in a historic train station building and had excellent food because an actual Mexican family owned it. It's since closed, and now a shitty microbrewery is in the building. Im still mad abt it lmaoo).

I bolt across the street to get there, ignoring one honked horn from a truck when i am still ninety percent sure it was not his light anyway, and scare the everloving shit out of this poor kind woman. The door is locked, the guy is now across the street and walking briskly towards us while i beat on the glass, sobbing, and beg her to let me in.

at the last second, she does. she doesn't speak a lot of English, i don't speak much Spanish, but we spanglish the moment and she locks the door once im in, shouting at the dude as he now bangs on it

y'all i wish i could thank that family so much more past what i did that day. The woman, the mom, got me some tortilla chips and water and sat me in the dining area. The dad called the cops, and their two twenty something and mid teen something sons go out the back door and start telling him to fuck off or they'd all make sure the cops took him away. They had no real obligation to even let me in, let alone shelter me more, and they did.

cops show up, and proceed to be cops: useless. They take statements from everyone, then tell the family that im being dramatic and the guy just needed to know the time. one cop asks if i want a ride to work now. I say no thanks, because im now realizing im very late and no one knows where i am/whats happening, and i just want to run the last little bit to work.

Nope, he now insists i ride in the back of his squad car while he lectures me on giving a polite man trouble like that. Before we drive off, the family gives me a wave and the guy that followed me walks off the way he came.

then i went to work, told everyone what happened in tears, got told to clean up and get to work. worked the late part of that day too after a coworker left sick. fkn sucked lmao.

Now my family refuses to let me walk anywhere alone and i feel like a child at 28. I probably shouldn't have told them abt the above lmaooo

#text post #ask box things #fr if u read any of these answers yall pls reward urself for dealing with my rambly manic stoned ass #i tried to write it all as entertainingly as I could so hopefully that helps lmaooo

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the-lady-amphitrite · 2 years ago

Text

— A FAIRYTALE BEGINNING | chapter 6

fate weavers

pairing: Loki /f!half-Asgardian!Reader word count: 5,961 summary: the Weavers of Fate come to Asgard, following the will of Yggdrasil and unveiling godhoods in this chapter: very slight/brief anxiety allusion, two (2) allusions to a loss of time (plot-related), friendly sparring with Loki, Volstagg, & Thor, the Weavers of Fate show up author notes: started writing this. had a breakdown and rewrote it twice. bone apple teeth. also it’s summer and my body wages war with me over having to go outside in 30c+ weather. also also, the earlier chapters got more edits applied + some small additions of text because while i couldn’t write i could edit and the goblins in my brain decided i needed to change some stuff. it’s mostly minor; punctuation, how things were worded, and how things were broken up, and an additional 1k words because i added stuff back in that i took out in the final drafts. and yeah, i also ended up splitting them apart because i decided i liked them apart and should have listened to myself before. enjoy! if you’re interested in reading about the lore and its inspirations, i’ve updated the endnotes of each chapter on ao3 to include a lot of it!

( previous chapter | read on ao3 | series masterlist )

@ladydracona

You’re on your way out of geography class the following day — Loki and Volstagg just ahead of you, all of you headed to the sparring grounds for your afternoon tactics and weaponry lessons — when Lady Yrsa calls out for you to come to her desk.

You pause for a moment, looking at your tall, grey-toned Ice Elf geography tutor as everyone but your friends file out of the room. Worry crawls its way up your throat as you try to discern why she’s stopped you.

Loki would have turned in your essay since you were running late after being invited to take your lunch with a few of you conflagration (they’d been so interesting to talk to that you had had a hard time prying yourself away for your geography lesson), so that couldn’t be it. You’d been quiet outside of the open discussion part of the class as Lady Yrsa preferred, so that couldn’t be it either. You hadn’t done anything to disturb anyone else in the class—

Oh. Perhaps Lady Yrsa had noticed you, Loki, and Volstagg passing a note back and forth for the better part of the class. Though, wouldn’t she have called all three of you over for that?

“Yes, Lady Yrsa?” you ask tentatively.

Your tutor steps around from her desk, hands behind her back as she approaches. She looks positively jaunty as she stops a few paces away, making you feel even more baffled as to why she called you over. One of her hands comes from behind her back, and she hands over several bound parchment sheets you take without question. Staring down at the top sheet, you realise it’s your essay.

And then you see — despite it being late — the high mark she’d given you and the commentary flowing down the side of the front page.

Lengthy and on-target response…complexity…fluent syntax and vocabulary…cohesive…

When had she had time to not only read this but to grade it? You hadn’t been that late to the lesson, and she had spent most of it walking back and forth at the front as she normally did.

“Delightful work as always, Lady Kárudóttir.” Lady Yrsa’s compliment breaks you from your confounded thoughts, and you look up at her to see a delighted smile. You duck your head, letting a smile dance over your lips. You thank her softly before excusing yourself to catch up to your friends at the door.

Once the three of you are out of the room, you head towards the nearest lift that will take you to the ground floor. You follow behind, staring down at your essay again.

Loki falls back, leaning over your right shoulder to look at what you had scored while Volstagg does the same to your left.

“Well done, cousin,” Volstagg praises, clapping a hand on your back. “You managed to impress an elf about her own realm.”

“Lady Yrsa is an Ice Elf from Bjallaríki, far to the north of Andlàngr and its Light Elves. The two kingdoms are very different from one another, and so are the two people who inhabit them,” you tell Volstagg automatically as you manoeuvre the essay into your geography textbook. The three of you step onto an empty lift, and Volstagg slaps the button telling it where to go. After a few moments, it begins its descent toward the ground floor.

“Elf’s an elf,” Volstagg replies with a shrug.

“Don’t be rude, cousin.” You smack his arm gently with your textbook. “Some of them are gods themselves.”

“Lady Yrsa is one of them,” Loki interjects, glancing over at your cousin. “She’s a land goddess. Not well skilled in understanding the life that inhabits the terrain she’s on or its general makeup, but she’s proven to be highly skilled at shifting it.”

Volstagg makes a humming noise. You’re certain he’s going to say something else, but to your surprise, he changes the subject. “So our sparring today. Are we still doin’ a game of two-on-two, or are we asking a few of the trainees to do a little first-and-last with us?”

Wait. What?

You and Loki have to tend to Frigga’s garden with her after your weaponry lesson. You’d agreed to possibly reschedule your two-on-two to tomorrow when you will have time after your last lesson of the day. Who had even talked with Volstagg? You hadn’t spoken of it during your geography lesson, so one of the princes would have had to ask him while you weren’t around.

“Two-on-two. We can do first-and-last after if everyone is agreeable and we find the extra hands to compete with us,” Loki replies without hesitation, confusing you even more. Noting your confusion, Loki says, “We will be joining Mother after our sparring.”

“Oh,” you say. Then — remembering the last time you had played first-and-last — you smirk and say, “Are you sure you’re up for a little first-and-last? I wouldn’t want to cause a scandal about you and poor Baldr if we play. Considering how fast the two of you lost last time...”

“You and Thor tripped me,” Loki bemoans, his head falling back as you remind him. You can’t help the high, cackling-laugh that comes out at his reaction.

First-and-last is a game that you don’t remember the origin of, but it’s one that you’ve been enjoying with your friends and various einherjar and valkyrjur over the last year now.

The game itself only has one goal: don’t be the first or last person out of the designated ring. Every game begins with an agreement on a bet or task to be completed, and the first and last people out have to fulfil it. As long as serious harm isn’t done, weapon choice doesn’t matter, and team-ups are allowed (though usually who someone teams up with is more important than the fact they have at all).

With the introduction of tactics and weaponry training as part of your daily afternoon schedule over the last few months, games have gotten more frequent. Consequently, the bets have also become more chaotic and reckless.

The last game (the one Baldr and Loki had lost) had resulted in Loki being blindfolded while shooting an apple off the top of Baldr’s head.

The arrow had gone through Baldr’s forearm, and he’d been out of training for a few days while his arm healed. Loki had told you that he’d been scolded by his father for it, but he had shrugged it off as he told you with his usual, easy grin.

“And you tried to use my own cousin against me!” You knock your hip against Loki with a smile. He’s quick to knock his hip against you in return.

“Fair is fair, darling. No rules were broken.” Loki winks at you. You playfully narrow your eyes at him, though your smile gives away that you’re teasing him.

“We’ll see about fair is fair when I get both of your brothers to team up with me to knock you out of the ring first,” you coo.

Volstagg laughs, reminding you of his presence. “Aye, and we’ll see how well you fare when I team up with your friend here to toss you out, little dragon.”

You turn to your cousin, mouth agape in shock. For a moment, you find yourself at a loss for words before teasing him with, “You would dare turn on me again, Volstagg? After all we have done together and gone through?”

“Loki makes good bargains!” Volstagg protests, trying to defend himself.

“There’s no bargain he can be making that is that good, Lion.”

“I will continue to hold to my word if you help me once more, Volstagg,” Loki interjects, looking past you to your cousin.

Your cousin hums, stroking his chin as he looks at you before his hand drops, and he nods his head. “You have yourself a deal, Your Highness.”

You turn back to Loki, asking, “And what have you given your word about that convinces my own beloved cousin to turn on me both times?”

“Something important,” he answers coyly when he looks at you, a self-satisfied smirk dancing on his lips. Before you can inquire further, the lift stops and your best friend slips out ahead of you and your cousin.

You roll your eyes, setting off after him with speedy steps, trying (and failing) to keep up as you yell after him to answer you while he continues to evade answering.

When the three of you arrive at the training grounds, you’ve given up on trying to get him to reveal whatever he said to Volstagg. You finally catch up to him halfway across the outer courtyard of the training facility, jumping at his back to try and hold on while (possibly, but lovingly) annoying him into answering.

He’d anticipated the move (because of course he had. He’s your best friend, you’ve known each other nearly half of your life at this point.), and while you’re in the air he swings around, hands empty, catching you by the waist and then throwing you over his shoulder.

You shriek with laughter at the unexpected movement. You are (effectively) trapped.

You haven’t mastered transporting items into a dimensional pocket yet, so now you’re stuck holding on to your textbook and your school bag, the latter of which has slipped off your shoulder and is hanging on your forearm.

You plead with Volstagg to take your things, but your courage-hearted cousin merely chuckles at your sudden predicament and steadfastly declines. In retaliation, you teasingly called him a traitor with a smile on your face and laughter in your words.

You don’t try asking, pleading, or demanding with Loki to put you down. Your best friend can be unfailingly stubborn at times, especially when it comes to teasing you in whatever form he can manage.

He’s a bit older, a bit stronger, so you know that (with the grip he has on your ankles and around your thighs) you’re not going to be able to wiggle free unless you want to end up nearly smashing your head on the flagstones. Again. So you prop one elbow on Loki’s shoulder, glare at your cousin, and ignore any of the einherjar or valkyrjur who might be watching.

When Loki reaches the top of the stands that descends into the large arena, he carefully sets you back on your feet. He’s still smirking at you and then, without a word, quickly makes his way down the stairs. You roll your eyes, and then you and Volstagg follow the Asgardian prince down, dropping your textbook and school bag alongside the ones your classmates dropped when they arrived earlier.

Your arrival is greeted by Thor (who — instead of the Geography of the Realms of Yggdrasil class the three of you take — spends his time shadowing your father to learn about commanding the einherjar), Hallr, Steinnar, and several other young einherjar trainees.

You don’t get to dawdle for long before the four Einherjar generals appear. Quietly, you run their names and positions through your mind. A habit you partake in every time you arrive for tactics or weaponry lessons.

General Týr, your father, general for all of Asgard’s forces outside of the Valkyrjur who the Dísir commands. He’d taken over the position after his father — your grandfather — Hymir had left for Valhalla. You know him to be kind, someone who listens. He’s like that for his einherjar too, making sure they are all attended to and given leave when needed. He cares for those under his command, similar to how he cares for his family.

General Ullr, the general for the ulfheðnar, Asgard’s elite scouting corps. He’s the bow god currently, but also a god of the hunt. It’s what makes him so good at leading the ulfheðnar, how he knows the perfect ulfheðinn to carry out a task when the army is campaigning to protect one of the Nine Realms. He’s just as fierce in battle when the wolf-frenzy takes hold of the ulfheðnar.

General Jósteinn, the general for the einherjar, Asgard’s army and the guardians of the realm. He’s a war god, blessed with true-strike for his enemies on the battlefield so that he may never miss.

General Hjǫrdís, the general for the berserkir. She’s the latest goddess to hold the title and holds the honour of being your father’s right-hand, someone he trusts and listens to. In spite of her position as general of the berserkir, she’s far more calculating than brash; you’ve seen her go toe-to-toe with both your father and General Ullr without being in a bear-frenzy and still hold them off.

You quickly scan the rest of the arena for signs of the other five generals, especially the general of the gǫltmǫttull, Asgard’s trackers. You don’t see any of them, though you do spot two of the Dísir on the other half of the arena with their Valkyrjur.

The four Einherjar generals walk over, speaking lowly among one another. When they get within earshot, whatever conversation they were having is ceased. Both General Ullr and your father greet your small group quickly (and your father gives you a quick smile and nod when he has your attention) before they depart; General Jósteinn trails along with them without a word or glance at any of you, leaving your class with General Hjǫrdís.

The darker-skinned goddess looks over all of you, her hands folded behind her back while she smiles at all of you. Her dark grey armour is a contrast to the lighter silver-toned armour and capes that the other generals — besides General Stígandr of the gǫltmǫttull — wear.

“Welcome back to class, everyone,” she greets.

In unison, your class replies with, “Thank you, General Hjǫrdís.”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

An hour later, your tactics lesson ends, and you move straight into weaponry training.

You’re quickly taken aside to work on your archery skills by General Ullr along with Hallr, Baldr, and one of the Asgardian boys from the Fourth Level class.

Despite also having tactics at the same time, Baldr and his Third Level classmates are taught by General Jósteinn instead of General Hjǫrdís. They’re farther along in their studies, and by the time your Second Level class graduates to learning from General Jósteinn, Baldr’s will move on to one of the other Einherjar generals.

Weaponry training is longer than tactics and split into different sections. Without being broken into different classes by age, this is the time your class (minus Amora and Lorelei who refused) mingles with Baldr’s and the class above his. All together, it only adds up to twelve Asgardians total between the three, yours being the largest.

Gathering a bow to train with, you run through short drills with the others under General Ullr’s instructions.

You and Hallr breeze through each drill, thanks to your affinity and his godnaming. Baldr keeps pace with the two of you, even without an affinity for weapons and godnaming that is tied to lightwaves. His skills though are borne of relentless training beneath the guidance of one of the best archers in the Nine Realms. The other godling (Brynjarr) struggles to keep up with the three of you — not surprising since his affinity isn’t related to bows or weapons in general.

You enjoy these drills, but you remember when you first began. How you struggled with wielding any of the bows they handed you during that first lesson.

General Ullr had ended up stopping you, pulling you aside briefly to tell you (not unkindly), “Lady Kárudóttir you do not need to push yourself so hard for an affinity you do not possess. With time and training, you can learn to use them to protect those around you, much as Prince Baldr has. Much as your father also did. Do you understand, my lady?”

The archery god had walked away without another word, leaving you with tense shoulders and a frustrated expression. After a few moments, you’d stalked back over to the line of targets, pulling an arrow from the quiver at your waist. You’d aimed it, wavered for a moment.

You needed this skill. You needed to learn how to wield a bow. You were young, but you wanted to learn so you can protect the ones you care for when war returns to the Nine Realms. Whether the enemy came from within the branches of Yggdrasil or beyond, it didn’t matter.

I will protect the ones I love however I can. To the golden halls of Valhalla, if I must, you had thought. You loosed the arrow.

It hit the bullseye.

You’d grinned and then heard General Ullr shout out an instruction to do it again. Nocking a new arrow you’d repeated your words to yourself.

You’d shot it, splitting the previous arrow.

General Ullr had you try out different bows, different arrows, targets of different ranges; your affinity for bows had been declared that day, the general himself pleased to be the one to do it.

He couldn’t answer if it was true-strike, or if you would be declared a bow goddess by the Weavers of Fate when they arrived to grant it, but it hadn’t mattered to you. And when your aim faltered, all you did was remind yourself that you were doing this to protect your loved ones in the future.

In your mind, there was no other choice.

Later, when your drills with General Ullr are over, your father calls you over to the sparring rings. You’re ten feet away when he (without looking) tosses a weapon at you, and — on reflexes borne of him doing this just often enough for them to develop — you catch it.

It’s a mánablað, a shorter polearm not too dissimilar from a short spear save for the long curved blade that tops it. You plant the steinenda — the heavy metal knob at the bottom of the shaft — on the ground once you’re standing next to him.

The entire mánablað is just under two metres long total from blade tip to steinenda, the blade atop it a half metre long. This one is specifically for training, so instead of having an uru blade affixed to the top, this one has a wooden blade made of ironwood from the forests of Svartálfaheimr. Still strong and difficult to break, but not something that will generally cause fatal injuries if wielded wrong.

“Volstagg tells me that you challenged the princes to another two-on-two,” Týr says casually, not taking his eyes off of Steinarr and Erik (one of Baldr’s classmates) as they spar against one another.

“Yes, Father,” you say. You had adopted the more formal address for him once you began these lessons, but you only use it while you’re out here. At home, among friends, and when he’s clearly your father and not General Týr, you still call him Babba.

“Good. Then you will do so now so you will not be delayed for the All-Mother’s lesson.” Týr calls the other three over, instructing the four of you to get in the other sparring ring.

Suddenly it strikes you that he’s handed you the mánablað to spar with. You’re not concerned about your ability to wield it (not with your weapons affinity), but you are curious about the choice of weapon your father has made for you in regards to this match.

You lay the mánablað shaft against your shoulder and step into the ring, moving to the opposite side with Volstagg. Thor and Loki take up their positions on the other side. Thor holds a training axe at his side, one similar to Járnbjǫrn but with the same ironwood blade as your mánablað. Loki has a training sword — a little on the shorter side than you’d expect him to wield, yet he seems perfectly at ease holding it. Volstagg has a training battle-axe in both hands, the only one of the four of you who looks like you’re about to fight.

The moment your father yells out “Begin!” you explode across the ring, swinging the steinenda of the mánablað around at Thor to try and bash him on his left calf.

He takes the hit. Knee bending with the impact, he swings his axe up, and you dodge out of the way. He lunges forward and you’re forced into catching the blade of his axe on the curved blade of your mánablað.

Thor is so much stronger than you; you grit your teeth as he presses forward, attempting to overpower you and (quite possibly) break your mánablað.

You drop in a controlled fall onto your back, letting his momentum propel him into you as you use your feet to send him hurtling over you and onto his back as you flip back onto your feet.

You know how Thor fights, know that he will be on his feet in seconds and rushing to press his advantage with your back to him. An axe is better in close combat than a mánablað, after all.

You hear the thud of his footfalls between the sounds of Loki and Volstagg’s weapons clashing against one another. You turn, falling to one knee, one hand out for balance and the other holding near the end of the mánablað, swinging the weapon at Thor. The blow lands, the wooden blade leaving a small, shallow cut across his bicep.

“First blood!” Your father yells out as Thor rushes past and you lurch to your feet. You take a step back in the direction of where Loki and Volstagg are still sparring, watching the thunder godling for a second. You glance at your friend and cousin — a mistake.

In what feels like the second after your gaze drifts from the middle prince, you’re suddenly knocked off your feet and sent rolling several feet across the ring. Using the momentum, you twist yourself into a crouched position. You hold your mánablað before you, hand close to the blade and ready to defend yourself.

Thor quickly recognises his mistake in not charging after you.

You bounce up, using your greater agility to dash over to where your cousin is.

Loki is distracted by fending off Volstagg’s heavy blows. You use it to your advantage, sweeping your mánablað up to knock his sword away from connecting with Volstagg’s arm before you plant a solid kick against his side.

The dark-haired prince spins, following the line of your kick and allowing it to propel him rather than knock him over. He cocks his head at you, a silent query asking what you’re planning.

You and Volstagg stand back-to-back, weapons at the ready. Your cousin quips, “’Bout time you showed up. How was your little nap?”

“I made first blood, so I’d say absolutely refreshing,” you tell him with a grin. The two of you push apart; you dart towards Loki, and Volstagg charges for Thor. Behind you, you hear the crashing sound of weapons coming against each other.

Instead of crashing into your friend, you twist around him the moment you get right outside of the reach of his sword, the two of you beginning an elaborate dance. He slashes, parries, dodges; you duck, block, thrust. Sword versus mánablað. Mánablað versus sword.

You know that Loki is trying to wear you down, using the knowledge that — if he gets close enough — your ability to play offence disappears. The mánablað is not a close combat weapon; you’ve gotten inside the reach of a mánablað before to disarm opponents.

You know Loki can do the same to you.

So you do your best to stay far enough away that he has to chase after you if he wants to disarm you. It becomes more than sparring, more than a dance, as you sink into the part of you that rises only during training. The piece of you that (perhaps) is a war goddess.

You end up locked in a side-by-side with Volstagg, dancing to the left and right of your cousin as you parry blows that come too close to hitting him while trying to land your own.

Breathe in, and breathe out, you remind yourself as you deflect another slash from Thor.

You swing up. Catch the weapon along the curved underside of its head with the curved part of your own.

His weapon goes sailing in the air. He steps back quickly and you follow. Your blade swings back down. Stops against the side of his throat.

Your father yells out, “Combat ends with a draw!”

You look behind you.

Loki has managed in your brief absence to (somehow) slip behind your cousin and put his sword-blade against the side of Volstagg’s neck. Volstagg has turned his weapon into a leaning stick, resting his arms against the top of the battle-axe as he smiles. There’s a disgruntled look to it, but you don’t get to put much thought into it as a hand claps down on your shoulder.

“My friend, that was excellent!” Thor booms. Your attention returns to the prince as you pull your weapon from his neck, turning the mánablað so the shaft rests against your shoulder once more.

“Thank you,” you reply, feeling a bit surprised by the turn of events. “It was a lucky swing. I thought for sure you and Loki would beat us.”

“We very nearly did,” Loki says, following behind Volstagg as the four of you leave the sparring ring.

“You did wonderful, cousin,” you say to Volstagg, putting a hand on his shoulder as you smile at him. “We’ll get them next time.”

“Next time it’ll be me and one of the princes, little dragon,” Volstagg says. Then he tweaks your nose, and you slap his hand away with a glare.

“Don’t do that, you know I hate it,” you complain.

You hear your name and Volstagg’s as you clear the top of the ring, and the four of you all turn to look at your father.

“Work on your teamwork. The two of you could have won if you had,” Týr says, hands behind his back as he assesses the four of you. “Prince Thor, a little less smashing and a little more strategy. Your strength is a weapon, but it will not always win on its own.”

Your father is silent for a second, seemingly trying to come up with what to tell Loki before he says, “If you’re going to use all of your abilities in a fight, do not wait until you’re nearly defeated. You might have won had you used that same move at the beginning.”

You’re curious about what Loki had done, but the youngest prince is blank-faced as he listens.

Reprimanded for your mistakes, you and Volstagg both bow your heads to the Einherjar General while the princes give a brief nod. The four of you thank him, and then he dismisses you all for the day.

You look up at the sky, realising that the sparring session had gone on longer than you expected. Over an hour has passed since the four of you stepped into the ring. No wonder you were beginning to feel tired; even a god’s stamina can only take you so far before a short break is needed.

Suddenly a loud buzz of reverent whispers breaks out from the einherjar a few metres away. The four of you stop, looking at the einherjar who suddenly part like the sea.

Three figures glide forward, all in dark cloaks with covered faces. A chill skitters down your spine. You swallow hard as you step back from the Weavers of Fate as they approach your quartet.

They stop two dozen paces away. The whole courtyard has gone silent. All around your group, everyone has stopped whatever they were doing to watch. Everyone knows what is happening, even if they have only heard whispers of it before today.

The Weavers have come to bestow a godnaming, telling someone what their godhood, their domain, truly is. For one of you, the wait of learning what your godhood is has come to an end.

A large part of you is terrified by their appearance, but an even larger part is hoping that you will be the one to receive a godnaming.

You’re still shy of fifteen. You haven’t even had the chance to visit Skuld for your Weaver’s Reading, something you won’t do until after your fifteenth birthday like all Drekasál. The idea that it would be you receiving it is absurd. And yet, you yearn for this to be your godnaming.

A voice, high and reedy, calls out, “Volstagg Sverrisson. Step forward and hear what we proclaim.”

The three of you drop back a few paces from Volstagg as he steps towards the Nornir goddesses. Your cousin drops to a knee and bows his head, battle-axe laid on the ground as one of the Weavers steps forward.

She places a hand on his head. In a voice that rasps, she proclaims, “I am Urðr, Weaver of the Past. I know all that has occurred in Yggdrasill’s eyes, and therefore understand that which happens now and that which will happen tomorrow. I have seen your past, and the paths that have lead you to this moment. I know what the World Tree has in store for you, and today it seeks to name you. Will you accept what it has named you since long before you were born?”

“I accept,” Volstagg says. There’s a stiffness to not only his words but also the way he holds himself. You can’t see his face, but part of you knows that he’s afraid.

He can call himself the Lion of Asgard all he wishes, but you know your cousin relies on his courage and the three of you more than anything. And he has to receive his godnaming alone, in front of hundreds who will whisper of his godhood the moment the Weavers leave.

You reach out with your free hand, grasping Loki’s tight. He returns it with just as much apprehension. The two of you could crush each other’s hand if you were to grip any tighter.

The second Nornir goddess steps forward, placing her hand over Urðr’s.

In a low voice as smooth as silk, she says, “I am Skuld, Weaver of the Future. Yggdrasill shows me what is to come, and has shown me the path it needs you to follow. It will not be an easy one, young warrior, and such a path will push you to do what you currently believe you never can. Will you accept what the World Tree has named you since long before you were born?”

“I accept,” Volstagg says again.

The final Weaver steps forward, placing her hand over the top of the others. In that high and reedy voice from earlier, she says, “I am Verðandi, Weaver of the Present. I see all of the realms within Yggdrasil’s branches, and know all of the ones who call it home at this very moment. Day by day I have watched as you have grown, and day by day I have become more believing of what Yggdrasill has long whispered your name is. Will you accept what it has named you since before you were born?”

“I accept.”

The hands of the goddesses fall away, and together they proclaim, “Yggdrasill has long whispered of you and of the deeds you will commit. It has called for you, has granted unto you that which you deserve to claim this title. You are this — the God of Courage.”

You’re not sure what you expect when they proclaim it.

You remember Thor’s. How Yggdrasill itself seemed to hear their proclamation, letting loose flashes of lightning streaks across the empty sky followed by several booms of thunder right behind them. You had flinched then, at the rupture of calm by the noise.

Volstagg’s godnaming is different in every way. A light makes him glow, and Loki whispers in your ear, describing the sight of “red-gold light, swirling around him” before it seems to be absorbed into your cousin’s body.

Tension falls from your shoulder. The godnaming is over.

One of the Weaver’s — Urðr you think — seems to turn her head towards you and Loki. For a moment, you wonder why, and then she raises a finger and speaks once more.

“Loki, child of Odin. Step forward and hear what we proclaim.”

A renewed rush of whispers swells as you quickly release your friend’s hand and step away as he moves towards the Weavers, taking up the same position as Volstagg had, laying his sword down beside him and bowing his head.

Volstagg joins you and Thor, battle-axe in hand.

None of you speaks. All you seem to be able to do is stare at Loki as you watch.

The godnaming repeats, with Urðr placing her hand on Loki’s head first.

“I am Urðr, Weaver of the Past. I know all that has occurred in Yggdrasill’s eyes, and therefore understand that which happens now and that which will happen tomorrow. I have seen your history and that which lead to you. Today we seek to tell you what Yggdrasill once named you. Will you accept what it has named you since long before you were born?”

“I accept.” Loki’s voice doesn’t waver even a bit, but it’s also not as loud as his brother’s had been during his godnaming.

Skuld now places her hand over Urðr’s, silken voice saying, “I am Skuld, Weaver of the Future. With this naming we will grant you knowledge of what your future will contain. Yggdrasill has shown me that your path will be arduous, the challenges in it more difficult than you can imagine. Will you accept what it has named you since long before you were born?”

“I accept.” There’s a stiffness in his shoulders that wasn’t there before, brought on by the Weaver’s foreshadowing. You can’t help but worry and wonder what could happen to your friend that would be so challenging she would warn him now.

Verðandi places her hand over the others, reedy voice gentle as she says, “I am Verðandi, Weaver of the Present. I see all of the realms within Yggdrasil’s branches, know all of the ones who call it home at this very moment. Yggdrasill has called you many names as the days have passed, but today we seek to tell you the one that you will forever be known by. Will you accept what it has named you since long before you were born?”

“I accept.”

As one, their hands fall away, and they proclaim, “Yggdrasill has long whispered of you and of the path you will have to walk. It has called for you, has bequeathed unto you that which you deserve to claim this title. You are this — the God of Mischief and Lies.”

Much as with Volstagg’s, you’re not certain what you had expected to happen with his godnaming, but the sight — even in monochrome — is equal parts frightening and awe-inspiring.

Seiðr smokes around him, obscuring parts of him as he flicks through different versions of himself so quickly you can’t keep a hold on any single version that appears. All you can pin down are flashes of different furs, wings, horns, talons, tails, and paws.

Just as quickly as it began, the smoke dissipates and he settles back into the same form he’d knelt as.

The three of you wait with bated breath, wondering what will happen next. Will the Weavers grant a third godnaming on this day?

Verðandi leans down next to his face, whispering something to him that’s obscured by her veil before she straightens back up.

The entire courtyard quiets again. You can hear the pounding of your heartbeat in the silence that echoes.

And then — between the space of one heartbeat and the next — all three of the Weavers of Fate vanish.

( next chapter )

Find the lore notes for this chapter here!

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki imagine #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson x y/n #a fairytale beginning #the prince and his dragon #of fire and of ice #amphi writes

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reidgraygubler · 4 years ago

Text

out of the ordinary (chip taylor/reader)

Title: Out Of The Ordinary

Request: no

Couple: Chip Taylor/Fem!Reader

Category: smut/angst

Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (penetrative sex, fingering, oral (fem), sex while someone is injured, breeding kink, groping, praise kink, multiple orgasms, hair pulling), swearing, blood and other bodily fluids, graphic descriptions of violence(!!!!), mentions of sexual acts, 68 Kill Spoilers, mentions of a dead partner, mentions of drugs (unknown), guns and gun violence, talks about kids (in the very far future),

Word Count: 9,562

Summary: Reader works at a hotel where she sees a lot of things out of the ordinary… Including a man running across the parking lot wearing nothing but a small towel around his waist. If only she knew her day was about to get weirder

A/N: day three of what might have been the biggest mistake of my life. But i had fun! Idk how april does it bc i was struggling. Anyways, here is some chip smut. I didn’t edit this too super well, so please pardon any of the editing errors/grammatical issues. The next ones will/are beta’d and edited… thank you so much for sticking with me on this! Tomorrow is something i had a lot of fun writing! Here is the masterlist for 7days 7fics! And here’s my main masterlist! Thank you all for the love and support!

{***}{***}{***}

I wish that even though I lived in a small town, in the middle of butt-fucking nowhere, I would see normal things. You know? Things that happen in small towns in the middle fucking nowhere. But, because it’s in the middle of nowhere, and the highway goes right through the middle of our town, we get a lot of… interesting guests. Which makes my job a little entertaining, sometimes.

Sitting behind a window at a tiny, run-down hotel early morning to mid-afternoon was what I did for a living. 90% of the time I spent my time just sitting there, reading a book/magazine, messing around on my phone, or working on an assignment for my class. That other 10% is checking people in or out of their rooms.

My day was so close to coming to an end. 11:30… I just needed to be here for one more hour, and then I can go home and go to bed. And, surprisingly, nothing weird had happened. It was a successful day, praise the fucking Lord or whoever is watching down.

Until, I jinxed myself…I thought I had hit the one allotted out of the ordinary thing for the day. That was until, as I was finishing up this essay, and I heard something from out in the parking lot. When I looked away from my laptop to investigate. And what I saw was not what I was expecting, at all.

A tall man was running across the parking lot, coming right towards the check-in/out window. Now, you might be wondering why this was out of the ordinary. Well, you see, he was running across the parking lot wearing nothing but a face washcloth around his waist. Let’s just say it left little to nothing to the imagination.

“H-hey! Hi,” he spoke, coming right up to the counter. I was more than happy that there was a counter and window between the two of us. I’m happy he was attractive, in all sense of the words. He was very attractive. “Do… Do you have a phone… That I could borrow?” he asked, looking at me with actual worry and terror in his eyes and face. I stared at him with a raised brow.

“What happened to the one in your room?” I moved away from my laptop and leaned on the counter beside it. He looked over his shoulder at the room he stayed in. I cocked my head to my shoulder and stared at him. “What room number are you?”

“Uh, that… That doesn’t really matter? Um, I’m running late,” he cringed as he looked back at me. I blinked slowly before looking down at the clipboard with the most recent check-ins.

“Sure,” I looked right at the last name and noted the time he checked in, “Mister Delacroix?” I slowly looked back at him.

“Chip,”

“Well, listen, Chop,” I paused my words as I walked over to the door to let him in. I was just happy he didn’t correct me when I called him the wrong name. I could have corrected myself, but I was just annoyed that I’d probably have to take care of the mess in his room.

“The owner’s son texted me, telling me that the people in your room had a rager last night… So, if I have to go clean that room and see cum and piss all over the room, and a coke tray on the counters, I’m charging you double,” I looked up at him as he entered the office. He was a lot taller standing in front of me. I don’t know why I thought he was shorter. Maybe its because he was standing on lower ground and I was inside.

“I… Rager?” He stared at me with a confused crease in his brow. I stared at him before slowly nodding. “Do… Do you know who came over? Do you know who it was?”

“I… Uh, I’ll have to ask the owner’s son. But, by the sounds of it, it was a little rough. I’m surprised you’re still up and walking without a limp,” I chuckled. I slowly looked up and down his body, taking in how he looked. He was slightly muscular, and though he had abs, his tummy was slightly pudgy. Which I could get with. I could appreciate a bit of a tummy on a guy like him.

“Listen,” he started, his words showing more urgency than before. I looked up, away from his body and at his face. It was probably his urgency that got my attention because I definitely almost went a little lower than the towel. “I need to know-Do you have any clothes? This is slightly distracting,” he looked at me. I wasn’t too sure if he was talking distracting for me, or for him. But I do agree, it was very distracting.

“Uhm,” I furrowed my eyebrows as I pulled my stare off him and went to look for the lost and found box, “There’s not much in here, but I’m sure there’s something,” I glanced at him as I placed the box on the counter.

“Right, thanks,” Chip looked at me before going to dig around in the box, “Do you know who came to my room last night?”

“I think… Hold on,” I muttered before rushing to the counter, shuffling some papers to find a random sticky note with some sloppy hand writing, “Christ, I forget he doesn’t speak english,” I shook my head as I stared at the writing. “Some goth chick and her boyfriend, or whatever. Uh, yeah, he told me about it this morning before he left. Like, 6 other people I think,” I swallowed roughly and shook my head, “It sounds like they roughed the place up?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” he looked away from the box for a brief moment. I watched as he pulled out a white and red t-shirt (that was left behind by a group of younger women) and a pair of sweat-shorts. “Great, now I gotta go back to that fucking gas station. Fucking fuck,” he muttered to himself as he dropped the towel to the ground. I widened my eyes and couldn’t help but stare at his ass.

“Gas station?” I asked, keeping my eyes on his body as he turned to face me. That was when I got a view of the full frontal package. I swallowed roughly.

“Are… Are you going to turn around?” he looked at me with nervousness in his eyes as he held the pants and shirt close to his body, lower towards his crotchal region. I smirked, raising an eyebrow and cocking my head to the side.

“Nope,” I looked up at him with a smile. When I noticed that he wasn’t going to move to get dressed, I dropped my shoulders before turning around.

“Which gas station are you talking about?” I asked, looking at the ground. I wasn’t entirely sure why I asked which gas station it was he was talking about. There was just one gas station in the whole town, and I knew he was in a bit of trouble.

From behind me, I could hear Chip muttering strings of profanities to himself. Part of me wondered if he needed help with anything, or if I was just a disposable person in his day. Probably the latter.

“The one down the street,” his voice was low. I wondered what he was thinking about and what his urgency was all about. “You can turn around. Can I use the phone,” he asked as I turned to face him. I looked at him and held back a laugh. Which, in turn, earned a glare from him.

“Yeah, yeah, you have to dial 1 before the number you’re calling,” I went to move the phone closer to him, nearly pushing/pulling everything off the counter.

“Thanks,” he looked over at me before picking up the phone and dialing his number. I watched as he turned away from me. He wasn’t on the phone for very long, and it didn’t sound like it was a good call.

“I… I gotta go. Can I use your car?” Chip asked as he looked out at the only car in the lot. I followed his gaze at my shitty 2001 Saturn. I furrowed my eyebrows before looking back at him.

“I can just give you a ride, you know… And, it’d probably be better if you had a partner with you. That phone call didn’t sound good… At all. And, no one will take you seriously dressed like that,” I nodded at his attire. He looked down at what he was wearing before looking back at me. “Back up just in case? No one will notice I’m gone,” I let out a dry laugh.

“It’ll be dangerous,” he looked at me with worry in his eyes. I shrugged before looking at the ground.

“I could use a little danger in my life,” I laughed before looking back at him, “I’ve been sitting in this stupid office, doing this stupid job since I was 16. The hundreds of people I’ve seen is crazy. This job is boring, I need something risky.” I explained when I noticed he needed more information.

“You could die,” he pointed out. I shrugged like it was no big deal.

“I could die just sitting here. Let me help you,” I stare at him with wide eyes. He looked at the ground and sighed. I could tell he wanted to fight with me, to get me to stay. But I could also tell he really needed help, and really needed to get out of this stupid town and state.

“Fine, you can come. But, you can’t ask any questions,” he pointed at me. I smiled before closing my laptop and grabbing for my car keys.

“Fine, let’s go,” I looked at him before pushing past him and leaving the office.

Chip was close behind me, still muttering to himself. From what I did hear, I heard the number 68,000 and then the word dollars. 68,000 dollars??? And he’s in a shit town like this?! What the fuck? What the fuck am I getting myself into? Fuck, this is a mistake… Fuck.

The ride to the gas station was quiet. Chip must have been thinking of what he was going to say or do when he got there. Let’s just hope it wasn’t Monica there. Bitch is crazy.

“Stay here, I have a feeling what I need isn’t here,” he muttered as he got out of the car. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“W-w-wait, you don’t want me to go with?” I asked as I slipped out of the car too, “Listen, I know the family that owns this gas station. They’re crazy. They’re nuts.”

“I got it. Just… just wait here,” he looked over at me one last time before going in. I stared at the door that he disappeared into before slamming the door shut. I leaned against the side of my car, patiently waiting for Chip to come back out.

I don’t even know how long he was in there for. But, it was a very long time. Worry took over as I began to overthink things. That dumb bitch probably killed him.

My worry melted away once he stepped outside with nothing but shame on his face. I raised an eyebrow, watching as he walked closer to me and my car.

“You look like you saw a ghost or something,” I chuckled as I pushed myself off my car and back around to the drivers’ side of the car.

“No, no it was much worse than a ghost,” he muttered before getting in the car himself. I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked towards the doors of the gas station.

“Whatever,” I shook my head before slipping into the car, “Where to now? Monica’s trailer?” I raised an eyebrow as I glanced over at Chip. I watched as he pulled something out of his mouth and wrinkled his nose.

“Yeah, yeah,” he looked over at me before looking around my car.

“Do you have a plan? Or… Or a gun?” I asked as we got closer to the trailer park. He looked at me with a little terror in his eye. No plan or gun? Seriously? Good thing there’s a gun in my glove box. “You can’t go to these guys with just luck, Chip. That’ll get you killed,” I glanced at him as I reached over for the glove box, pulling it open and pulling out the gun.

“What the fuck! Where did that come from?” he asked, watching as I placed the gun on my lap. I glanced at him as I pressed down on the gas, speeding down the highway. “Jesus! Slow down,”

“You’re the one who fucking lost $68,000 to fucking Monica! You go in and get her money-”

“It’s not her-”

“It’s her money now, Chip. Jesus, she stole 3 of my bikes when we were little,” I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Chip looked at me again and nodded. “You’re lucky you have help,�� I muttered as I kept my eyes on the road.

“You know this bitch?” Chip stared at me. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“She’s my, like, second cousin. My Dad’s niece’s kid,” I shrugged before shaking my head, “She’s a cunt. A fucking cunt,” I scoffed as I remembered my childhood with her. Chip was silent as I pulled into a driveway and parked the car.

“Oh good, looks like there’s a metal baseball bat in the yard,” I smiled at him. Chip looked at me with wide eyes, actual terror sitting in his eyes. I watched as he unbuckled his seatbelt and rested his hand on the latch to my car. He stayed still for a moment before turning to face me. I could tell that there was a moment of hesitation. I don’t blame him, do be honest. I hesitated to bring him here. Taking him here is basically signing his death warrant.

“Stay… Stay here… If I’m not out in an hour… Call the cops,” he looked at me before slipping out of the car. I watched as he walked up the driveway, picking up the metal bat, and walked towards the door. I almost got out of the car and went after him, but I didn’t. I’ll listen to him. He must have a plan worked out if he didn’t need my help yet.

I swallowed roughly, watching him knock on the door and wait for it to swing open. And when it did, a familiar looking guy stepped out of the trailer. It was obvious he was sizing Chip up, mocking him as he spoke. Chip looked over his shoulder at me, silently pleading for help of some sort. I shrugged, pretending like I didn’t understand what he was asking for.

A bell ringing came up the driveway and passed me. A familiar blonde riding a bike rode up the driveway.

“Oh, you again,” Chip spoke out loud at the blonde woman. Amy… Of course. Of course she shows up. She’s probably the one who told him where that bitch, Monica, even lived. I was just happy she didn’t even see me when she rode past me. I didn’t want to be a part of any of that bullshit.

Then he was pulled into the trailer.

“Fuck, this… This isn’t going to be good,” I muttered as I slouched down into my seat in the safety of my car. I wished there was something more that I could do to help him. Because just sitting here for an hour and waiting to call the cops won’t help me or him, specifically Chip. Fucking around with Monica and her… I don’t even know what to call the people she hands out with.

I grabbed for my gun again, pulling out the magazine and looking at how much ammo I had. Just as I put my hand on the handle to get out, a loud bang came from near the trailer, causing me to nearly jump out of my seat. I sat, frozen, paralyzed in my spot, staring at the trailer. They’ve just killed Chip. Or, Chip just killed them

“I don’t know what… What do I do…” I whispered to myself as I stared at the door from the safety of my car. I wasn’t prepared for this at all. What I should have done was follow my own advice to Chip and come up with a secondary plan… I can’t exactly go in there guns blazing… Unless, that’s exactly what I do. They won’t expect Chip to have a partner with him.

Okay, that’s it… That’s my plan… Bust into the trailer, and just go for it… But, I think… Should I wait the hour Chip told me to wait? What if he’s in trouble? Who am I kidding, he’s totally in trouble.

{***}{***}{***}

I just wish I hadn’t fallen asleep. Because, the next thing I knew it was morning and Chip was still in Monica’s trailer. Chip was still in danger.

I quickly fumbled my way out of the back seat and into the front. It was even worse as I rushed to get out of the car, my body nearly falling to the ground. When I was finally out of the car, I recollected myself, hyping myself up as I walked towards the trailer.

I had my gun tucked into the back of my pants as I walked. I didn’t want to be quick, but I also didn’t want to be slow. Chip could be in danger, and it was a little bit my fault. He’d be out of that situation if I hadn’t fallen asleep.

My fist carefully knocked on the door, hoping someone would answer sooner rather than later. When the door flew open, Monica was standing in the door frame, looking down at me with slight disgust.

“We don’t want girl scout cookies,” she looked down at me. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Good thing I’m not a girl scout, Monica,” I took a deep breath before pulling the gun out from my pants. I lifted it up and pointed it right at her chest. “Where’s Chip,”

“You want him?” Monica asked, cocking a hip as she leaned against the door frame. She wasn’t even bothered by my weapon being pointed at her chest. It was like she was used to it. “He brought you as back up? Oh that poor boy?” she looked down at the gun. I took a deep breath as I stared at her.

She knew I wasn’t going to use it. She knew me well enough to know that I just had this stupid gun for looks, and that I wasn’t going to shoot anyone. But, what she doesn’t know is that I’m not afraid of her anymore. She may have tormented me when we were kids. But I’m taking it all back now.

“Where’s Chip and the money, Monica,” I spoke, my voice low as I spoke. I slowly cocked my gun as I stared at her.

“Oh, you know about the money too?” she asked before looking into the trailer at her friends and, I’d assume, Chip. “Did you hear that? This slut knows about the money,” she spoke, looking at everyone. I swallowed roughly as she looked back at me, “Is she replacing that other slut we killed last night?”

“Just go! Get out of here!” I could hear Chip yell from somewhere in the trailer. Monica stared down at me, watching me as my hands shook with the weapon in hand.

“Too afraid to use that gun?” she mocked in a whiny tone. I blinked slowly as I moved my finger to the trigger. Everything happened so fast, when I opened my eyes, Monica was stumbling back, her hand over stomach where blood was spilling out. Blood was being coughed up as she fell against the couch, looking up at me with wide eyes. “You actually did it,” she coughed, staring at me terror in her eyes.

“I’m not scared of you anymore, Monica,” I spoke as I stepped into the trailer. I smiled as I looked down at her, cocking my gun and pointing it down at her again, “You terrorized me when we were kids… But not anymore… No,” I took a deep breath before as we made eye contact.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whimpered, looking at me, struggling to move as I got closer to her, “Listen, you can take Chip, and… and the money and go… I’ll leave you alone now…”

“Sorry just isn’t going to do it, Monica, not this time… Not ever,” I shook my head, “You can burn in hell for all I care,” I scoffed as I stared at her. Blood was dripping down the sides of her lips as she pleaded with me, but at this point I didn’t care about anything she was saying.

Chip called my name, causing me to look over at him. They really did a number on him. I wonder if they would have gotten this bad had I actually called the cops and did something last night.

My hands and shoulders dropped as I looked at him. I didn’t even bother with the others around me, I’d take care of them after.

Or, so I thought… One of Monica’s friends stood up and charged after me. I stumbled back, fumbling to cock the gun before pulling the trigger at him, getting him right in the head. He fell to the ground with a thud, a slab of meat just on the floor.

“Anyone else?” I looked at the others around me, really feeling my sudden anger and annoyance come through for everyone. The people around me backed away from me. I looked back at Chip, appreciating the way he was looking up at me. Just as I went to my knees to help him, the sound of a shotgun being cocked came from behind me. I froze as the barrel of a gun was pressed right to my head.

“Whatcha doin’ there, Sweet Heart?” a woman’s voice asked from behind me. I took a deep breath as I dropped my gun to the ground. I looked back at Chip and noted how the adoration he had in his eyes slowly turned into terror and fear. “Where’s my money, Chip?” the woman asked. There was a certain fakeness in her words that scared me a bit.

“I… I don’t have it!” Chip shouted as he struggled to stand up. I cringed as Liza pushed the barrel into my head a bit more. I swallowed roughly as I looked at Chip.

“L-liza? H-h-how did you… How did you find me?” Chip exclaimed as he looked past me and at the woman.

“I told you, Chip, I always know where you are,” her fake sweetness really struck a chord in me, pissing me off more than I was before. “Now… Where’s my money?”

Someone from the sidelines jumped to their feet and instantly charged at Liza. It was terrifying how quick Liza was to turn and shoot the gun at the man. I quickly moved away and grabbed my gun from the ground. I felt a little bad for moving behind Chip, using him as a shield from this new woman.

“You’re so quick to move on, Chippy,” Liza spoke as she looked back at me. I appreciated that Chip actually covered me instead of cowering away like I half expected him to. “First the whore from last night and now her?”

“I’m not a slut or a whore,” I stared at her. She cocked her head as she looked over at me. Yet, again another one of Monica’s people came after us, only to be stopped by a different person, their arm being sliced off in one swift motion. If you blinked you would have missed it.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” one of the three girls shouted front he couch. Liza turned to face the person behind her before saying something else.

“What… What do we do, Chip,” I whispered as I tugged gently on his shirt. He looked over his shoulder at me before lifting his finger to his lips. I stared at him for a moment, watching as he thought of a plan. The level of chaos in the building was starting to stress me out. I wasn’t expecting two terrifying people to show up at an already terrifying place.

“Go have fun with that one, Dwayne-y,” Liza pointed towards one of the girls on the couch. The guy looked over at the girl before grabbing her and pushing past Chip and I. I fell against the wall and blacked out for a moment.

When I came too, Liza was standing in front of Chip, talking to him about something. It was eerily quiet in the trailer now, other than Liza and Chip’s voice. My guess was Liza took everyone out. But, why’d she keep me alive? Chip probably bargained for my life. I’m honestly just a bystander in this whole thing, wasn’t I?

“You can let him run away… you can hunt him down, and kill him… Or… Or you can discipline him.. Teach him to heel or whatever he’s supposed to do,” Liza cocked her head as she looked at Chip. I took a deep breath, looking at the ground and noticed the gun on the ground right behind Chip. “So, Chip, what option do you want?” her tone was filled with that sickening sweetness, and it made me want to beat the shit out of her.

“Violet said there’s always another option,” Chip spoke softly as he looked at Liza. I carefully moved and grabbed the gun.

“Oh, she… She did? Well, I don’t see her here… Because she’s dead, Chip,” Liza scoffed. I took a deep and shaky breath before moving around the chair and aiming the gun right at Liza. “Oh, look who’s got the balls now,” Liza looked past Chip and at me. I stared down at her, feeling nervousness in the form of bile rise up my throat. “Are you gonna shoot me? Baby’s gonna sho-” her statement was finished short by a bullet to her head. I closed my eyes and looked down at the ground.

“Jesus Christ!” Chip shouted as Liza’s body fell to the ground. I took a deep breath before looking down at him. “She’s dead!”

“She was going to fucking kill both of us, Chip!” I shouted back, looking at him with wide eyes. Chip looked up at me as he stumbled to his feet.

“Okay, okay,” Chip looked down at me, placing his hand on my shoulder to steady himself. I looked up at him with wide eyes. “$68,000… My clothes, and then we fucking ditch this fucking place,” he pointed towards the door where the creepy man from before dragged a girl. I swallowed roughly as I looked towards the door.

“Here,” I handed him my gun before nodding towards the door. Chip looked down at me, a slight glare in his eyes before he took a step forward. I followed behind him, staying close to his body. He pushed the door open and immediately fired the gun, killing the guy instantly.

“I’m never going to sleep again, holy fucking shit,” I muttered as I looked at the horrors in front of me. He fucking ripped the girl a part.

“Stay here for a minute,” Chip muttered before stepping away from me. He didn’t seem bothered by everything. I was impressed that he was able to step into the room more and move stuff around. One he found what he was looking for he came back beside me.

“Let’s fucking go,” he muttered, holding a shoe box under his arm. I looked at the box as I followed behind him. I could kill him right now, and take that 68grand. I could start a new life on my own…

“Yeah, let’s go,” I looked down at the ground, “Shouldn’t we clean up the place first? Our fingerprints and DNA is all over the place,” I looked around the trailer and at all the dead bodies. Is it bad this didn’t phase me at all?

“You’re right. Hold this,” he muttered as he shoved the box into my hands. I looked down at it with wide eyes before looking back at Chip. He had a bottle of straight whiskey in his hand and was splashing it around the room, going into the other rooms before coming back. “You think this will be enough?” he asked, looking down at me with a certain exhaustion in his eyes. I tried to look past all the injuries he had earned, but it was hard when they covered his whole face.

“Hopefully,” I shoved the box back into his arm before leaving the building. I waited just outside as he lit a lighter and tossed it to the floor, causing the whole building to be engulfed in flames.

“Where to?” Chip asked as we walked back to my car. I looked over my shoulder at the blazing trailer and shrugged.

“Somewhere away from here. But first, we should get you a first aid kit,”

{***}{***}{***}

We drove for a long time. A very long time. I think we both wanted to make sure we were away from Monica’s trailer before we rested for the night. Which also meant we had to wait a long time before Chip could get the proper care he needed. It wasn’t fair to either of us that this was the case at the moment. I wasn’t ever expecting this to be what happened to me the other day when I woke up. I was just happy that after the second day of driving, he was actually okay.

“I’ll go get a room, you stay here,” I looked over at Chip. It looked like he was asleep, which I was expecting, so when he lifted his head and looked over at me I was a little confused.

“No, no let me,” he mumbled as he fought to get his seatbelt undone.

“Chip, you look like you just got out of Fight Club… Let me go get the room,” I placed a hand on his to stop him from moving anymore. He looked up at me with a little bit of terror in his eyes, “I’ll be right back, I promise,” I kept my voice low as I spoke to him.

“Okay, you’re right,” he mumbled before moving his hand away from the buckle. Chip rested his head against the head rest before closing his eyes lightly. I sighed deeply before sliding out of the car and towards the entrance of the hotel lobby.

I kept my voice low the entire time as I spoke to the front desk manager. It was hard when I also looked like I just got out of a war and the manager kept looking at me like that was the case. When they finally handed me the room key, I let out the deepest sigh of relief and returned out to the car.

“We have a room… Two days…” I looked over at Chip as I drove to a parking spot near our room.

“Two days… Nice, nice,” he murmured and nodded. I looked over at him and watched as he slowly unbuckled.

“You go into the room, I’ll grab the food and first aid kit,” I handed him the key before we both got out. Chip nodded before leaving and going towards the room. I made sure to be quick as I grabbed the stuff from the back.

“Should I shower?”

“No, no, let me clean your wounds up first,” I nodded towards the bed. Chip looked over at the bed before going to sit on it. I was relieved when he laid back on the bed like nothing mattered in the world. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

“Are you going to play nurse with me?” he asked, looking at me with a playful smirk on his lips. I laughed and nodded as I approached the bed.

“Unfortunately, I think I’m all you got,” I laughed as I sat on the bed beside him. He sat up and moved closer to him. We were both quiet as I pulled out alcohol wipes and gauze. I looked at his face, trying to figure out where to start. Thankfully the swelling in his eyes went down, but I cracked an ice pack to help.

“This is gonna sting,” I looked at his face as I lifted the wipe to his face. He winced as I began wiping the wounds on his face.

“Are you okay?” I looked up at him as I carefully placed butterfly band-aids and regular band-aids over the wounds. He looked back at me, a certain softness in his eyes. I was happy that he’d probably just need a few band-aids on his face instead of gauze and stitches like I’d thought. We both didn’t want to go to the hospital…

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” he whispered as he tried to not move away from my touch. I frowned looking at his face. “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” he added. I looked down at his hands and nodded.

“Did you want to go to the hospital and tell them the truth?” I raised an eyebrow as I shifted closer to him with an alcohol pad. He cringed as I pressed it to the open wound on his hand. “Sorry,” I cringed as he flinched.

“You’re right, though… I don't think I could make up a believable lie in the hospital,” he looked at me, watching me clean the injuries..

“Was it worth it?” I asked, feeling a small smile grow on my lips. Chip shrugged a bit like he wasn’t too sure what I was talking about.

“Was… Was what worth it?” he asked, trying not to furrow his eyebrows. I laughed lightly and shrugged.

“The 68 grand that you risked your life for, Chip,” I laughed as I grabbed a bandage and picked it open, “Is it okay if the band-aid is pink with butterflies?” I held it up to show him the design. He swallowed roughly before nodding.

“Yeah, it was worth it,” he whispered, causing me to look back at his face. I furrowed my eyebrows when it became my turn to stare at him. “Because if I didn’t lose the $68 thousand... I probably wouldn’t have met you… And you saved my life,”

“Oh please, don’t compare me to Violet,” I laughed and shook my head. I felt a little bad for bringing up his dead friend, but I personally felt like he was comparing me to her. Just a little bit.

“I’m not,” he looked taken aback by my sudden statement. I shrugged, not entirely believing him. He knew that too. I looked at him, noting the cut and bruise across his nose. Who knows how long that was going to take to heal, but I hope it didn’t hurt him too much. “I’m being serious,”

“That makes me feel better,” I smiled as I began cleaning up the first aid kit we had bought when we pulled into a new town, “I should probably let you go your own way, come morning. I don’t want to get in the way of you while you’re trying to flee everything” I laughed as I clicked the first aid kit shut, “I’ll let you have my car,”

“Please stay,” he whispered, watching as I stood and walked across the room. I almost didn’t hear him. But I was preoccupied with my thoughts, trying to figure out how I’d get home if I had given him my car to leave. I was 2 days away from home… That’d be a long way back. “I probably would die if you didn’t come with me,” he added as I turned to face him.

“I’d be pretty useless if I came with. Is your life always like that, Chip?” I asked, placing my fists on my hips. He stayed quiet. “Because if it’s always like that, running from danger and shooting guns…”

“You’ll go back home, I get it. What happened the other day was-”

“I never said that,” I cut him off, “Yeah, what happened the other day was terrifying, Chip. But, I don’t think I’ve ever had such an eventful day in my entire life. I just don’t think I would be able to do that again. That parts gotta go,”

“Consider it gone,” Chip shook his head, watching as I slowly walked back over towards him. I looked down at him, appreciating the way he looked back up at me. “Forgotten. We can… We can buy a house in… In Iowa. Have kids, have a family. Get as far as we can from that place,” he moved his legs and allowed me to stand between them.

“Iowa?” I scoffed, wrinkling my nose at the thought of moving to Iowa. “And… You want to have kids? After everything that happened? You want to bring kids into this world?” I sighed deeply as I looked down at him. I left out the part of how we just met 4 days ago. He doesn’t even know me.

“Yeah, but if you were their mother, I think they’d be pretty safe,” Chip laughed as he reached up to grab my hand. I stared at him, feeling my heart swell in my chest.

“You don’t even know me, Chip,” I laughed lightly. He furrowed his eyebrows before shrugging. “And you already want to have kids with me?”

“I don’t think… I don’t think it matters. You saved my life,” he pointed out. I bit my lower lip as he brushed his thumb across the back of my hand.

“Yeah,” I paused, taking a deep breath as I stared at him, “You saved mine too, Chip,” I smiled at him, “I think Liza might have killed me if it wasn’t for you,” I laughed lightly out my nose. And, it was true. She probably would have killed me after she knocked me out...

“Well, good thing Dwayne was easy enough to take care of,” he returned the laughter, “Can’t believe I dated that bitch,” he sighed as he looked up at me.

“Yeah, I was about to say…” I smiled softly. Chip smiled as he carefully tugged my hand so I would fall forward slightly.

“Kiss me,” he whispered as I braced myself on his shoulder with one hand. I furrowed my eyebrows, looking down at his lips. The cut on his upper lip had thankfully stopped bleeding.

“Is that a good idea,” I pulled my hand off his shoulder and gently held his face. He wrinkled his nose and closed his eyes. “Chip, I’m serious,”

“I am too,” he begged as he looked at me, “I could di-”

“You won’t die tomorrow. You’re safe now,” I smiled softly as I looked at him.

“So, what’s stopping you from kissing me,” he asked, pointing out the fact that there was indeed nothing stopping me from kissing him.

“Why you gotta be like that?” I asked, moving my hand up his face. I carefully brushed the wound on his temple before carding my fingers through his hair.

“Be like what?” Chip asked as I pushed my hand through his hair and rested it on the back of his head.

“You’re so… nice. You’re not like other men, the ones who look at women like objects,” I laughed and shook my head, “You wouldn’t even hurt a fly.”

“You do know I killed, like, bunch of people yesterday,” he asked. I smiled and nodded. He pulled his hand from mine and rested both his hands on my hips. I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at him.

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair…” I sighed deeply and cocked my head, “You won’t regret it, will you?” I asked, my voice hardly a whisper.

“Regret what? Kissing you?” He asked, his thumbs playing with the hem of my shirt, just barely touching the skin of my hip. I nodded lightly. “Why would I regret kissing you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a guy regret kissing me,” I whispered as I looked away from him, “The last guy I dated… He dated me as a joke… It wasn’t till after we… Well, we did a little bit more than kissing, did he tell me that it was all a joke,” I whispered before looking down at the ground.

“Nothing about me asking for a kiss is a joke, I promise,” Chip replied, his voice causing me to look back at him. He lifted a hand and rested it on my shoulder. “We don’t even have to do anything… You don’t have to ki-”

“I do… I do want to kiss you, Chip,” I whispered softly, “I’m just scared, that’s all,” I stared down at him.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he smiled softly, running his hand down my arm before grasping my hand. I swallowed roughly before moving to straddle his legs. He took a sharp breath as I adjusted myself on his legs.

“Sorry,” I cringed as I tried to get off his legs. Chip looked at me before resting his hands on my hips, keeping me in place on his lap.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, bringing a hand back to my face. I stared at him, feeling a small smile grow on my lips.

After a moment of just staring at each other, I moved forward, closing the space between. Our lips connected, and it was the softest, gentlest kiss ever. Although my lips were still dry, his lips felt dry, drier than the sand on the beach. The blood that was on his lips dried slightly, but it didn’t bother me at all.

Chip placed his hand on my lower back, moving me closer to his body. My arms wrapped around his neck, my body willingly moving closer to him as if it couldn’t get enough of him. I could tell that he craved me too, his other hand moving hastily around my body.

“Is this a good idea?” I murmured against his lips. I was careful as I pressed my forehead to his, feeling a small smile tug on my lips. “You’re like… Seriously…” I stopped myself from saying ‘seriously injured’.

“I’m okay. I’m fine with it if… If you’re fine with it,” he whispered, his hands going back to the hem of my shirt. I closed my eyes and let a deep breath of air out my nose. A small smile grew across my lips as his hand finally slipped up my shirt and up to my bra. “Please tell me your fine with it,” his voice wavered slightly with his words. I swallowed roughly and nodded, our noses brushing together as my head moved.

“Yeah, yeah it’s… I’m fine with it…” I nodded, taking a deep breath before opening my eyes, “I’m more than fine with it,” I whispered as I looked at him.

That was when he kissed me again. It was different than before. Because, before it was gentle and soft, like he didn’t want me to melt away. But also it was soft because we both had mild- not so mild injuries, and I knew he didn’t want to hurt me. The differences between this one and that one is, fervent and passionate, it took my breath away.

Chip’s hand on my back fiddled with my bra as he tried to unclasp it. I couldn’t help but laugh as he began to struggle. It was clear he was getting frustrated with the struggle, so when I went to help him, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he fought to pull my shirt off. I laughed and shook my head.

“No, it’s okay,” I whispered before lifting my arms in the air. Chip smiled before pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it somewhere behind me. I sucked in a sharp breath as the cool air hit my bare chest. Chip was careful as he pressed his lips back to mine, then on the side of my mouth, before trailing down my neck. It was gentle, and soft, but it was enough for me to notice him sucking soft spots on my skin. My hands went back to his head, carefully pulling at the hair on the back of his head.

My head tilted to the side the further down my neck he went. A small gasp fell from my mouth as he attached his lips to my breast. My fingers gently pulled his hair, causing him to hum lightly. It was hard not to react to him and his touch. I needed him more than I needed air.

“D-don’t stop,” I whispered, my words wavering with each syllable. It was so hard to concentrate on anything as he placed his lips around my nipple. A shiver went down my spine, causing me to arch my back into him more.

Chip stood up, causing me to latch on to him so I wouldn’t fall, before turning around to put me on the bed. I looked up at him, my breathing picking up slightly as he stared down at me. His lower lip was pulled between his teeth as he looked at me.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” I whispered, lifting a hand to his face. He could hear the worry in my words as I spoke, letting his lower lip fall from his mouth. “Your lip is bleeding.” I left out that it was only bleeding a little bit, but it was enough to notice the red.

“It’s fine,” he whispered, bringing his hand to rest on my cheek. His thumb brushed against my lower lip. My body shivered slightly before I opened my mouth slightly. He smirked before slipping his thumb between my lips. I swirled my tongue around his thumb as I stared at him.

“Good girl,” Chip hummed, resting his other hand on the mattress by my head. I swallowed roughly before grabbing his shirt and pulling him down to my face. He moved his thumb from my mouth and looked down at me.

“Please don’t make me ask more than once,” I whispered, releasing my hand from his shirt to lift it to his face. He flinched away slightly as my hand barely touched his face. I could feel my face soften as I looked at him. “I won’t hurt you, Chip. You’re safe now,” I whispered as I moved my hand from his face.

“I know, I know,” he shook his head before lowering his face to mine, lightly pressing his lips to mine. I hummed, wrapping my arms around his neck again. “You won’t have to ask more than once,” he murmured against my lips. He looked down at me before pressing his lips to mine again, slowly kissing down my neck and chest.

Although he was quick to move down my chest, he was slow once he got to my hips.

“Hold on,” he stepped away from me, rushing to the bathroom real quick. I sat up, resting back on my hands, as I waited for him to come back.

“What… What are you doing, Chip?” I asked, my patience starting to wear thin as the seconds ticked by. I swallowed roughly as he stepped back out of the bathroom.

“Cleaning my face a little bit more,” he looked at me with a small smile on his lips. I furrowed my eyebrows as he came back to stand between my legs.

“I-I’m confused,” I looked up at him. Although, I really shouldn’t be confused. I’m the one who said ‘Please don’t make me ask more than once.’ and he obviously wanted it as badly as I did.

“You know,” he smiled as he lifted my hips a little bit before pulling my pants off my body. I suddenly couldn’t control my breathing anymore, and I was left trying to control myself. “Wouldn’t want to get blood everywhere,” he looked up at me as he dropped my pants to the ground.

I stared at him watching as he lowered to his knees between my legs. He was gentle as pressed his lips to the soft skin on my inner thigh. I took a deep breath, trying so hard to regulate my breathing. My elbows and arms gave out, causing me to lie back hard on the bed.

“So beautiful,” Chip whispered before blowing softly at my core. I gasped and pressed my head into the bed beneath me. My hands and fingers got knotted up in his hair again, slowly pulling his head closer to my body.

Chip laughed at me before peppering butterfly kisses over my pussy. I gasped, tugging lightly on his hair. He looked up at me before grasping both of my hands and holding them down on the bed.

“Ch-chip, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” I whimpered pulling at his hands. He hummed before licking a stripe right up my cunt. I swear, I couldn’t even breathe. He squeezed my hands as he kept licking at me. After a moment, his lips attached around my clit, sucking softly at the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” I cried out as he pulled a hand from one of mine. I didn’t even notice that he pushed a finger into me. My free hand went over my mouth as a moan fell from me. Chip obviously enjoyed that sudden reaction, causing him to moan too. The vibrations from him caused me to moan again.

“ ‘m so close. Please, Chip, so close,” I moved my hand to his hair and pulled on it a lot harder than before. It was like I couldn’t breathe, the wind being knocked from my lungs like I was punched in the gut. “Fuck, Chip,” I moaned, my hips jerking at him. He pulled his hand from mine and placed it firmly on my stomach, holding me down.

“You’re doing so good, Princess,” he murmured against my body. I cried out when he pressed his lips back on me.

My mind went fuzzy and my vision turned white. I could feel my toes curling against the rough, scratchy comforter beneath me. My hands gripped his hair and the blanket so tightly I was sure my knuckles would blanch. And the only thing I could say was his name as I came.

My chest heaved as I tried to breathe. When I opened my eyes, Chip was back over me. He smiled, clearly enjoying what had just happened.

“That was… That was good,” I laughed lightly. Chip returned the laughter before pressing his lips to mine. I hummed following after him as he pulled away from me.

“That was, like, barely the pregame,” Chip laughed as he looked down at me. I furrowed my eyebrows and smiled softly. “If at all the pregame,”

“Well are you going to get started on the actual game or just leave me alone?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow as I stared at him. Chip laughed again before standing up right to rid himself of his jeans. I quickly moved so I was lying up by the pillows.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He asked once he was back over me. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m positive. If I wasn’t… I wouldn’t have let you eat me out the way you did,” I laughed as I brought my hands to his face, “I appreciate you cleaning your face a bit before you did that though. I don’t really want the staph infection or STD,” I laughed harder than I should have. But that in turn caused Chip to glare at me.

“Well, now I don’t think I want to have sex with you,” he looked away from me before sitting up right. I stopped laughing before sitting up to look at him.

“C’mon, Chip, I was just joking.” I moved so I was closer to him, “I’d love to get a STD from you,” I bit back my laughter as I looked at him. He glared at me again.

“Shut up,” he muttered, looking down at the bed. I smiled before lifting a hand to his face.

“You’re the one who wants to fuck the girl you just met 4 days ago,” I pointed out as I moved to straddle his waist. He looked at me as I sat on him. “But, to be fair, I also want to have sex with the guy I met 4 days ago so it’d be a little hypocritical of me to judge you,” I shrugged. I tried really hard not to look at his cock, but it was right there… It was obvious that he was painfully hard. “Use me, Chip,” I swallowed roughly as I looked up at his face. His eyes were scanning my face as his hands were resting on my hips. I could feel his fingers digging into my skin, and I was more than happy to let that happen.

What he did next surprised me. He lifted my hips up so I was hovering over him, before slamming me on his cock. A shout came from my mouth as I wrapped my arms around his neck. I pressed my face into his shoulder as I tried to breathe properly after the sudden intrusion.

“Fuck,” I panted before looking up at him after a moment. My muscles clenched around him as I slowly got used to his size. Chip pressed his lips to mine before carefully thrusting up into me. My hips slowly moved, meeting him at the perfect spots. His lips hardly left mine, and when they did it was only for a few moments.

“Gonna fill you up,” Chip mumbled as he pressed his lips to my neck, “Gonna put a baby in you,”

“Please! Don’t stop, fuck,” I cried, rolling my hips against his. My mouth opened around his shoulder, my teeth carefully sinking into his skin. “God,” I whined looking back up at him, “Do it, please, do it,”

“Yeah? You like that?” Chip groaned as he brought a hand to my chest. I let out a shaky breath and nodded as he massaged my breast. “Being filled with my cum, carrying my child,” he looked up at me. I pressed my lips together and nodded, feeling myself get closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Chip, please,” I placed my hands on either side of his face and pulling him closer to my face. I pressed my lips to his as he pulled me closer to his body, my chest pressing against his.

My breathing grew raged as he picked up his pace. His hand dropped to where our bodies met, his finger encircling around my clit. I was pushed right to the edge, calling out his name as he called out mine. His hips faltered slightly as he filled me with his essence.

My head dropped to his shoulder and my arms wrapped around his chest. It took a while for either of us to move, the intensity of the moment catching up with us. Although, the last few days in general were catching up with me.

“I gotta clean you up,” Chip finally whispered after a moment. I swallowed roughly before I struggled to get off his lap.

“You really do want to have kids with me,” I laughed as we finally broke a part, “I mean, yeah I want kids too. But not for a while,”

“I told you, we gotta get to Iowa first,” Chip looked over at me as he got off the bed. When he noticed that I was a little nervous about that, he came over to my side, “We don’t have to go to Iowa,”

“No, no, I know… It’s just… The thought of leaving… And going with you. The other day was terrifying, with everything th-What if I just left?”

“I know you're nervous. You have every right to be nervous. If we leave, we can get as far from that place as possible. We can find a safe place and be safe… Together,” he knelt on the ground beside me. I looked down at him and nodded, “Besides, you had the most boring life in that stupid motel,”

“True, true,” I laughed and shook my head, “You’re not going to, like, murder me… Are you?” I looked at him as I carefully grasped his hand.

“No! I wouldn’t do that! After the shit I just said to you with my cock in you? You think I’d kill you?” Chip nearly fell back on the ground, causing me to laugh again. I smiled and nodded.

“Okay, I… I guess if the worst thing you’ll do to me is get me pregnant… Then I think I’m safe.” I looked at him with a small smile, “And that’s not even bad,” I shrugged as I looked at the bed in front of me.

“I won’t murder you if you won’t murder me,” he spoke, lifting his hand and showing me his pinkie. I looked back at him and nodded.

“Promise,” I whispered before interlocking my pinkie with his.

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