#i can’t be convinced essay grades aren’t fake when the difference between an A and getting less than an A is dependent on when I submit it!

[carelesscuriosity]

Learning that deadlines are fake and most teachers don’t care was the worst thing that could’ve happened to my brain

[baekhyuq]

“Déjà vu.” | Baekhyun (m) Teacher!AU |Chapter 6 (FINALE)

Title: Dèjá Vu.

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst (maybe)

Warnings: Smut/Language

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: Your new obsession as of late has been masturbating sessions when your favorite cam boy is live-streaming . But too bad some nights you’ve got too much homework due from your Psychology teacher to watch your oh so hot cam boy.

deja vu masterlist

<<prev — end ]

Your classes become busy and you’re thrown into a pile of work. Work. Work. And more work. Baekhyun sighs on the couch as you type up an essay due at midnight.

“Shouldn’t you be grading papers?” You pinch his side playfully. He yelps and whines like a baby.

“I’m surprisingly not busy. I don’t know if i’ve finished my work load or the month is just going by in slow-mo.” Baekhyun chuckles rubbing your thigh. “I hope it is....Because I don’t want you to leave my class.” He pouts, his pink bottom lip on display.

Can he stop being cute.

You turn to him and see his pouty face, you grin grabbing his chin before bringing his face towards yours. You give him a peck, before going back in and lingering. Baekhyun leans closer and you pull back with a giggle.

Tease.

Baekhyun growls and smacks your thigh lightly. “Maybe I should fail you for teasing me all the time.”

You punch his arm out of the sheer thought of having to retake his class and sitting through hours of material. Your blood began to boil at the mention of the already very difficult class.

“I don’t think you’d be alive to teach that class if you did.” You slid your hand up his arm and rested it on his shoulder, giving it a very hard squeeze. He looked at your hand before looking back at you, swallowing thickly.

“Am I clear?”

“Y-yes ma’am.”

“That’s more like it.” You pinched his chin.

***

Baekhyun’s job got busier. Teaching at a college was surprisingly busy around the summer time. You rarely got to see him during the week, your promise to watch movies on Thursday’s being thrown out the window because Baekhyun would be out of town or too busy with classes.

You on the other hand were not so busy. Classes had ended for you, you’re second semester now over, Baekhyun’s class now over. You luckily passed.

Your spare time was spent waiting for Baekhyun to text you and keeping up with your small plant sanctuary. And of course working, you would think about what coffee Baekhyun was drinking if it wasn’t the store you worked at. He tried to check up on you once in a while, and sometimes even swing by the store to give you food and kisses, which you gladly accepted.

But being without Baekhyun for a month put a toll on your heart. You felt lonely without your favorite person by your side. You wanted to feel his presence, you both would FaceTime each other when Baekhyun was away. You could see how tired Baekhyun would be and would tell him to go to sleep. You both would sleep on the phone until morning.

You started going out more, well if going to Chanyeol’s club every Friday night counted. You basically tried to busy yourself while you had time off. Going out once in a while cleared your mind.

Your body swayed to the music, Chanyeol’s hand in yours as you both yelled with the music. Being best friends with the owner of a club gave you a say in what songs to play.

The lights flickered off the walls and the alcohol in your system made you blur the different colored lights into one. Your drunken buddy also prove to everyone in the club he was piss drunk as well. By falling over a stool and spilling his drink.

You helped the laughing giant up and luckily the mess was cleaned up before anyone else could slip. Chanyeol’s laughter was suddenly contagious and you ended up laughing at his drunk clumsy self.

You both ordered a round of shots.

“Yeol!” You slapped his arm as he took the shot from you.

“I think you’ve had enough, Y/n.” He slurred, his speech now gibberish.

You shook your head, you weren’t as drunk as him. Chanyeol kissed your cheek in an apology and you fake vomited.

Ten minutes and a couple more shots later you’re both back on the dance floor, a girl dancing between you both rather erotically.

You choose this moment to facetime Baekhyun. You smile evilly.

Baekhyun picks up after two rings.

“Hey-woah.” Baekhyun’s cut off by you showing the girl dancing on you. You laugh at his widened eyes and opened mouth.

“Baekhyun here’s your replacement.” You joke to him, bringing the phone up to your face.

Baekhyun laughs, “Y/n are you drunk?”

“Are you drunk?” You say back to him, your eyes squinting at the screen.

“No honey i’m completely sober.” His laugh makes another appearance and you laugh too. What’s funny?

“No i’m sober, you....you’re drunk!” Your mouth stumbles over the words. Baekhyun’s leaning his head on his hand, a small smile on his face.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Ok, if you’re sober when’s your birthday?”

“May 6, 1992.” You shout.

“That’s my birthday....”

“Mine too!” You drop your phone by accident and you drop to your knees to see why Baekhyun is suddenly on the ground.

“Baekhyun why did you fall??”

Baekhyun laughs loudly, his laugh turns into a wheeze. His face reappears on the screen and you pick up the phone staring at his laughing figure.

“Why are you laughing Baekku?” You pout sadly.

“Oh Y/n, you’re so adorable.” He wipes a tear from his eyes, “Sweetie wheres Chanyeol, let me speak to him.”

You turn your head to the silver headed giant, you tap his shoulder and he turns to you confused.

“Oh Y/n!”

You push the phone into his face and Baekhyun sees his friend’s surprised expression.

“Baekku wants to talk.” You say cutely, Chanyeol coos at you before answering the phone.

“Hello Baekku.” Chanyeol slurs.

Baekhyun face palms, of course he’s drunk too. “Ok Chanyeol, listen to me.”

“Baekhyun why aren’t you here?” Chanyeol barks at the phone. “We’re having so much fun!”

“Chanyeol!” Baekhyun shouts, “I need you to take Y/n home, she’s too drunk. I don’t want anything to happen to her. Do you understand?”

Chanyeol stares at the phone for a second his slow brain turning the stuck gears. “Take Y/n home now? Ok got it!” His friend gives him a thumbs up and Baekhyun sighs.

“Ok thank you make sure she’s safe.”

***

“Agh! You’re so heavy now Y/n what do you eat nowadays?” Chanyeol complains as he carries you to your apartment door.

You pat his butt, your figure thrown over his shoulder. “I eat the same amount you do,” You hiccup “shut up!”

Chanyeol opens your door with a struggle but places you down in your bed successfully.

“Ok, Baekhyun we made it!”

“You didn’t have to have me on the phone for the whole trip there...” Baekhyun sighs, his eyes tired.

Chanyeol yawns, “My head hurts, Baekku.” He whines cutely.

You agree with a groan, wrapping yourself in your blanket.

Baekhyun gags at Chanyeol’s cute act but nonetheless helps. “Go into Y/n’s bathroom, there are pain pills on top of the cabinet.”

Chanyeol stands to travel to the bathroom and comes back with pills and a glass of water. He offers you some kindly, which you take.

“Y/n~” Baekhyun calls, You respond with a giggle before crawling over to your forgotten phone on your bed.

“Yes?”

“Tell Chanyeol to sleep on the couch give him a pillow and a blanket. I don’t trust him getting back to his house this late.” He instructs you, you salute.

Chanyeol’s wrapped in a blanket and his head is laying on your rilakkuma pillow. He looks like a baby.

“Mission is a success.” You say into the phone.

“You didn’t have to wrestle me on to the couch. I would have went willingly.” Chanyeol says from under the cover.

Baekhyun laughs, “You forced him under the cover?”

“Yes. He’s ready for bed now.”

“Okay, Y/n.”

“Yes?”

“It’s time for you to go to bed too.” Baekhyun says softly, his eyes peering down onto the screen.

“Okay...” You pout, “I miss you. Goodnight.”

“I miss you too. Goodnight, my baby.”

***

After the busiest month in the summer Baekhyun’s work load died down, you got to see him more and more till he had full days off and you were able to watch movies on Thursday again. You both became closer, really close, close enough to convince one another to move in with each other.

So you moved in with Baekhyun.

Living with Baekhyun has been, interesting. You found out more about him and his little knacks. You found out he has a Rilakkuma toothbrush, and you gushed over it for about three hours. You found out that his corgi pup actually can get along with cats. Which is a plus for your cat. You both think the move was worth it and you both feel like you know one another on a deeper level.

You love Baekhyun.

You can’t keep holding onto his secret anymore. You feel like you might accidentally slip up and mention it somehow and you don’t want him finding out in some weird way. But you don’t want to embarrass him either.

It’s been a while since Baekhyun has did a live, he hasn’t in about 6 months. His fans comment about his disappearance and think he just quit all together. Until one lonely night while Baekhyun’s out of town on a rare business trip, you get a notification.

B-Bear is now live. You audibly gasp, almost choking on your Cola.

“He’s what now?” You whisper yell. You click on the notification and it sends you straight to the website. You can see his hand in front of the camera before he adjusts the phone to be propped on something. You can see his body is covered in a glistening sheen. Your mouth waters, he’s wearing a black robe and it’s opened showing everything. His dick is definitely hard, his hand is moving up and down slowly over his length.

You can only see from his lips down but you imagine his eyes are closed.

“It’s been a while, huh?” Baekhyun says with a smile. You laugh at his casual tone, as if he’s talking to a friend.

“I actually have a lot going on in my life.” He breathes out, a sense of heaviness in his voice.

“My jobs been very busy, and my girlfriend just moved in with me.” He smiles at the end of his sentence, his head rolling to the side.

You smile hard.

“She’s been so great, helping me in anyway she possibly can. Giving me advice and encouraging me through everything. I just-“ He pauses before inhaling deeply. “I just like her so much. She makes me feel...whole.”

The chat on the live is blowing up with hearts and messages asking who his girlfriend is or asking where he’s been. You lay on your stomach as he continues to speak.

“Being in love has changed my outlook on the world and all it has to offer. My girlfriend....Y/n, she is what I see in this world. Her well being, her needs, her love. My sunshine on a rainy day,” He trails off, his hand moving so fast he grunts. “She’s so perfect, so gentle and kind, and so soft. I love her.”

Baekhyun’s breathes start to become heavier and you think it’s the right time to confess to him.

Despite him scrambling to find his phone when you ring him up, he answers your call fast. You giggle on the other side of the line, nervously playing with your blanket.

“I love you too.” You say.

Baekhyun’s head turns back to the camera and you believe he’s looking at the chat.

“W-what-“

“I’m watching, I am CupidBaby.”

“D-did you hear all of that?” He stutters profoundly, his jaw is hanging open now, he can’t move.

“Yes....I-I’ve been watching you for almost a year now. Before we even met.” You confess, even though he can’t see you, your cheeks are red and you’re scared of his response.

“I-Why didn’t you tell me? Why’d you keep it from me?” The end of Baekhyun’s lips turn up you watch as he takes a pillow and covers himself. “Gah! This is so embarrassing Y/n.”

You grin at his cute reaction, you can see he’s flustered even through the screen. “I’m sorry Baekhyun, I was too embarrassed to tell you. When I found out it was you we were at the museum. In the bathroom, I heard you.”

Baekhyun jumps up from his seat, pointing at the camera. “Yah! I knew I heard your voice.” Baekhyun ends the live quickly and he calls you to FaceTime.

You answer and smile at his blushing face. “I really can’t believe you, Y/n.” He says embarrassed.

“Hey...It’s not the worst thing you could be found out for.” You try to make him feel less embarrassed about the situation. You feel guilty but you can hear the playfulness in his tone.

There’s a long pause as you two just stare at each other, longingly.

“I meant it.” He states.

You furrow your brows, “What?”

“What I said, I meant it.”

“What did you say?”

“I love you.”

Your heart does a 360 spin, you swear in this moment Baekhyun is the most precious being on the planet. Nothing else matters but him right now, and all he has to offer.

“I meant it too, I love you Baekhyun. With all my heart.”

Baekhyun’s smile lights up the screen, his cheeks round and his eyes sparkling.

“Wow, i’m not even horny anymore. I was thinking about you earlier and I couldn’t resist coming back to do live again...But being caught like that really through me off.” He laughs loudly.

You giggle at his statement. Even in this moment he’s joking. “I miss you. I miss your jokes and your hugs.” You confess.

Baekhyun smiles again, teeth showing, he kisses the phone. “There, that should hold you off until tomorrow.”

You pretend to catch the kiss and place it on your lips. “I’ll savor it until you get here.” You smile at the man of your dreams.

“You better.” He chuckles, his eyes wandering around your face. “It’s late, sweetie. You should go to bed.”

“I don’t want to...but since you’re asking nicely. I guess I will give in.” You tease, “Goodnight, I love you.”

“I love you too, always. Goodnight.” Baekhyun replies a soft smile on his face before the screen goes black.

You smile to yourself, holding your phone to your chest.

Moments like these you cherish. Moments where you feel like you’ve known Baekhyun from a previous life. Like you’ve never been separated from one another. As if your love had been living before you found each other.

It almost gives you Déjà vu.

taglist: @deliciouslydisturbed365 @92byunie @thenamethatisgiven @lavellanfriendliness @amandoaexo

(Thank you so much for keeping up and reading this series, it’s come to a bittersweet ending, I am sad to see it go. But this was my very first series that has been completed so it will hold a special place in my heart. I thank everyone so much for supporting me with this story.)

[nh935]

Creepy America Episode 1: Worlds of Wonder

Introduction

Today marks the twelve year anniversary of the last episode of Creepy America. I know this because of the article I'm reading, recounting the strange and bizarre tale of the webshow. My webshow. My life, for the better part of four years. And even though it arguably destroyed me, brought me to this point where I live alone, working hard jobs to keep this tiny, shitty one person apartment, news of Creepy America never ceases to bring me joy.

Except today.

Which brings me to the reason I am writing.

This morning, I received a letter saying that the server charges for the official Creepy America website had gone up once again, this time to a level that I couldn't even convince myself into thinking I could pay. My complaints have been ignored; I am positive that a silent actor has been forcing the charges to increase, regardless of the actual cost of maintaining the site. This is no doubt the same person who broke into my apartment and storage locker and stole every remaining physical copy of the Creepy America episodes. I wish I could muster the energy to be outraged, or even horrified, but I knew this day would come sometime.

Barring any action from my co-host to stop these actions, something I know will never happen, this would be where the webshow dies. But I'm a stubborn bastard and I'll be damned if it does.

So here I am, alone, in a small, dark room, writing my memoirs of the craziest, scariest, most dangerous, and happiest years of my life. My goal is to preserve the memories of "Creepy America": those days and nights spent in the R.V., traveling from city to city, investigating, finding, and recording the secret places that the world does their best to keep hidden. It's only this way that those days will stay alive. Files corrupt. Memories fade. Even history can be re-written. But if the show has proved anything, it's that words will exist forever, even if they aren't supposed to.

To the Newcomers:

I imagine that most people who track down these stories will be the life-long fans. However, I imagine that some will simply stumble onto these stories by accident. That's okay; it's actually what I'm counting on.

But that means that there's a good chance that, if you're reading this, you don't know what "Creepy America" is. I don't want to delude myself into thinking that everyone who reads this will have memories of the show, especially given the fickleness of internet fame, so I want to take this time to explain what the show was; veteran Creepers, feel free to skip ahead.

Creepy America was a webshow, published and broadcasted online. It was big back in its day. The show generated enough revenue to make money off of, and it's popularity caused a few "War of the Worlds"-styled hoaxes.

To the outside world, the draw of the show was obvious. Based on the creepypasta explosion that made the world obsessed with Slenderman and others, Creepy America combined professional-level special and practical effects with the low-budget style of found footage to make for a scarily realistic horror series. The actual recording team was kept invisible, placing all attention and credit to the two co-hosts of the show. The mysterious mythos that was hinted at several times but never fully explained also added to its popularity and quite a few people praised us for our clever writing and dedication to preserving the illusion.

Of course, this couldn't be further from the truth. Creepy America was just a low-budget production. Zoey and I were the only ones who worked on the show. Nothing was scripted. As our show gained attention, a choice was demanded of us from powerful forces: stop filming, or tow the "fake" line. We chose what we believed to be the lesser of two evils.

Things escalated, though. I won't try to summarize the details here; they will be explained better in the stories to come. But twelve years ago, we were obligated to end it, and the show has slowly faded into obscurity since then.

To the Veteran Creepers:

Before we begin, I have to give you a warning: if you're looking for answers, this isn't the place to find them.

The events and things we uncovered during Creepy America remain unexplained to this day. I have spent the better part of twelve years researching various aspects of science and parascience trying to find those answers, and I am no closer to finding them than I was when we decided to stop our broadcast. Red Eyes, Reverend Jones, even the Archangel Foundation: I don't know what the truth is. So if you expect a book explaining how everything fits together perfectly like little puzzle pieces, I'm afraid you're going to be sorely disappointed. I have my theories, and I have my hunches, but, as I've stated on the show before, speculation without proof is worthless. As it is not my intention to further confuse an already bizarrely muddled and misunderstood set of facts, I will leave my ideas to myself and simply report on what happened.

What's inside is is a collection of my memories about the strange occurrences that we filmed in our four years on the road. I know that there have been many requests to elaborate on some of the details that were left out of the show: what happened during our streaming blackout, the exact location of Devil's County, what we learned about Voltaire's DNA sample from the scientists. I can answer a few of those questions, and I intend to. Some things, unfortunately, are gone. My records are lost, and even my memory is beginning to turn fuzzy. I have also lost contact with my associate, meaning that unless she publishes her own statements on these events, I have no witnesses to back up anything. Given how things ended between us, I doubt that will ever happen. You will simply have to trust that what I say is true. If you've stayed with me this far, though, I think that you're willing to take that leap of faith.

Which brings me to my last point: everything was true. Some of you believed, but everyone had doubts. I don't blame you. We marketed ourselves as clever writers whose fictional tales contained just enough details to seem plausible. After the threatened lawsuit, we had to place a disclaimer on our show's opening. Even those of you who are going to find these stories are going to find it described as "fiction". There are reasons we did so, good reasons, reasons that are detailed in this book. I'm tired of lying, though. Even lies told with the best of intentions will eat through your soul. I'm not sure how well this admission will go over with the higher powers in charge, but I no longer care. As Zoey herself once said in the show, consequences be damned.

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

So to newcomers and old fans alike, here it is: the bare truth about "Creepy America", all three years of our journeys across the United States. Once more I say to you the line that began every episode since our second broadcast: get your flashlights out, and get ready to shine some light on the darkened corners of the world. Welcome to the America you never knew existed.

Welcome to Creepy America.

-Liam Foster, co-host of Creepy America

Creepy America Episode 1 Worlds of Wonder Hammond, Indiana

Perhaps one of the stranger tales to tell about our time creating Creepy America was simply how it got started. Unlike how it was sometimes insinuated, we didn't simply wake up one day with the idea and the passion to start the show. In fact, Creepy America wasn't supposed to be Creepy America at all. It was supposed to be "Faces of America", and it started with a simple question:

"Hey, do you want to do a road trip?"

We were sitting on the porch of Zoey's house, drinking beer and catching up. Zoey and I had been friends ever since grade school. Over the years we had gotten pretty close, especially during high school, but at this point it had been awhile since we had seen each other. I had gone to Indiana University because of a generous scholarship opportunity while Zoey went to our local community college. We remained friends on Facebook and messaged each other back and forth, but that summer we decided that I should go back to our hometown to meet for what might be the last time. We were both getting pretty far into our degrees and that meant that soon we were going to have to decide on jobs in those fields, at which point there would be no summers to catch up with.

"What do you mean, a road trip?" I asked. In case anyone is curious, I appeared the same way I always did in the show: curly brown hair, white skin, green eyes. It was a pretty hot night out, so I was wearing shorts. Other than that, I can't remember much.

Zoey took another swig of her beer. "You know, a road trip. A road. A trip. The works." She appeared the same as she always did, too. Pale skin, lots of silver piercings in her face, blond hair with one side dyed in neon rainbow colors. She smiled with one of those sweet smiles she always had.

I miss those smiles.

"Yeah, that sounds glamorous. Long hours on the road in a cramped car. Fast food every night. Seedy motels as far as the eye can see." I scoffed and downed some more beer.

"Actually, I was thinking of an R.V."

That caused me to raise an eyebrow. "You're serious aren't you?"

She picked up her laptop that she had beside her. "You remember that video essay I did for my Video Production class?"

"The 'Faces of Ivy Tech' one? Yeah, I remember. That one was pretty good"

"My teacher thought so too. So much so that he actually sent it to some fancy art group." She clicked on the track pad and squinted to read something. "The Film Board of America. They loved it so much that they want me to do another one, but across the country, with different people in each state. A 'Faces of America' thing. Even gave me a grant to do it with."

"How much?"

"Um… 50 grand, about-ish."

"Wow… that's uh, wow."

"Yeah, I know, right?" She closed the laptop. "Anyway I also have an uncle who sells used R.V.s He's willing to give me a pretty big discount if I pay cash for it. And then I remembered you. I figured we could take a year off and travel the countryside. You know, before I leave this town and you turn into one of those boring number people."

"Accountant" I corrected.

"Isn't that what I said?"

I sighed. "Zoey, I don't know. I'm in the middle of school and to just postpone my degree like that…"

She rolled her eyes at me. "Oh, come on Liam. You have the whole rest of your life to be a boring adult. This could be our one last chance to do something big and exciting before we get those stupid nine to fives. An adventure, right? Like what we talked about in fifth grade." She looked at me with bright eyes.

I paused.

"Well?" she asked.

"I… I'm sorry, I just can't. I've got too much to worry about right now."

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

She frowned and looked down over the edge of the porch.

"Hey," I said. She looked back up at me. "I'm still gonna be here for the rest of the summer, okay? Let's try to enjoy that time."

She nodded, but the disappointment was still visible on her face.

A few days later we were shopping at a thrift store. Zoey had mentioned something about "various odds and ends for the R.V.", so we ended up driving to different Goodwills. We were at yet another one and the constant looking at towels and silverware was driving me a bit nuts, so I took a break from Zoey's company and headed over to the far corner of the building where a bunch of posters and paintings were located. I flipped through them. Most of them were pretty standard fare: big inspirational words and prints of famous artworks. One of them made me stop, though.

It was a smaller canvas and an actual painting. I could feel the texture of the brush strokes. The picture itself was done in various shades of blue and silver. Two large planets encircled in swirls of gas hung in the sky joined by a pale moon. Mountains surrounded a beach with a large palm tree off to the side. Two dolphins, mid jump and shiny gray, were suspended in the air, all completed by an illegible signature in white.

It felt oddly disturbing to look at. Like a CGI figure that's almost, but not quite, perfect. There was just something... not right about it. Curious, I turned the canvas over, hoping that there would be something on the other side to shed some light on who exactly painted this piece. On the back was a tiny printed sticker.

"Worlds of Wonder. #2 of 59."

I flipped it back over to study the artwork more and traced my finger over the signature. I couldn't even begin to make sense of it. All it appeared to be was a series of large messy loops. Glancing over the rest of the painting didn't help much, either. I'm no artist, so I couldn't really figure out anything that way. I stared at one of the dolphins.

I could almost picture it falling back into the ocean…

"Whatcha got?"

I jumped. I had been so engrossed that I didn't hear Zoey walk up behind me.

She laughed. "Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up on you like that."

"No, it's okay," I said. "I just… uh, got caught up in looking at this thing."

"Here, let me see." I handed the canvas over and she held it up. She smiled. "Wow, talk about strange."

"Yeah, I know." I walked over to the cart to see what Zoey had picked up while I was gone. As I prodded through some of the miscellaneous housewares in the basket, the painting suddenly joined them.

I raised an eyebrow and looked at Zoey. "Really? You're buying that?"

"What?" she asked. "I've got a niece who goes crazy over this kind of stuff."

"Dolphins on different planets?"

"Well, dolphins at least. Plus, she's like five. She'll flip over this."

"Are you sure? It looks kind of… creepy."

Zoey raised an eyebrow at me. "Creepy?"

"Yeah," I was beginning to feel stupid, but I soldiered on anyway. "Creepy. It just… I don't know, it doesn't look right."

She lifted the painting out of the cart and looked it over again. "I don't see anything 'creepy' about it. Weird, yeah. I mean, it is kind of out there, but…"

"Never mind, let's just go. These lights are beginning to hurt my eyes."

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

Zoey ended up dropping me off at my house late. It was either midnight or one. I had bought a few things from the thrift stores, mostly just old paperbacks that had been on my list of things to read and, bags in hand, I walked up the steps of my parent's house, unlocked the door, and headed upstairs to my room. Once inside I put the bags down and started taking things out. That's when I noticed the painting again.

It was in one of the bags, lengthwise so it would fit, nestled in between two books. The cashier must have accidentally placed it in my bag when we were checking out. I picked it up and looked at it again.

The dolphin looked back at me. The black eye seemed to almost glisten,

I yawned, then shook my head. "I'm getting freaked out by fake dolphins. I need to go to bed." Painting under my arm, I headed back downstairs and leaned it against the front door so I would remember to give it back to Zoey. Then I headed upstairs, put the new books on my shelf, and flopped onto the bed, still in my clothes. I was out before my head hit the pillow.

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

I felt very, very cold. I could only see black. I realized that my eyes were tightly closed, so I opened them.

I was standing on a beach at night. The whole landscape was awash with silver light. The white sand glowed with it. A few feet in front of me stood the water, tranquil and clear. Large blue palm trees swayed behind me, and behind them were grey mountains, also shining in the pale light. Looking up, I saw a huge multitude of stars, and hanging there like overripe fruit were two large gaseous planets.

I was inside of the painting.

Sure enough, just in time to punctuate my thought, a pair of dolphins leapt from the water. Diving back in, they swam away, chasing each other and leaping again.

The mist of the ocean combined with the night air made me shiver and I could see my breath in front of me. Clutching my arms, I turned around and almost tripped when my foot snagged something behind me. It was a sign. Well, sort of. It was more like two large planks of wood nailed together in a waist-high "T" shape. The top board had a shaky "2" drawn on it.

I figured it was just a weird dream. A very, very strange and vivid dream, but a dream nonetheless. My overactive mind had just taken the painting I had thought was so strange and was spending the night recreating it. No biggie.

Even so, I still felt a little on edge. I had this slight feeling of dread, like the kind you get at the beginning of a nightmare, where you realize something's wrong, but you're just not sure what, and you know something's coming, but you're just not sure when. The movement of the palm trees in the wind was making me jump when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. The planets overhead, hanging in midair and moving slowly, made me feel like I was being watched.

Again, I shrugged those feelings aside. So what if it was a weird dream? It was just a dream. Besides, I was lucid right now. I was in control. If anything scary did happen, I could just think it away.

A shiver went up my body. "Right," I said to myself, "let's get rid of this first". I closed my eyes and imagined warmth.

Nothing.

After waiting for a moment, I shrugged and said "okay then we'll just have to work on that later." I headed along the beach with the ocean to my right. After walking a while, the beach turned sharply to the left, and again buried in the sand was another T sign, this one reading "16". I looked over and the sand seemed to go on in a straight line forever.

There was a sudden splash to my right and ice-cold water washed over my skin. I stumbled backwards, falling over on my butt in the sand. One of the dolphins was in the water, about twenty feet away from me, splashing the surface with the flat of its tail. Once it saw that I noticed it, it made a strange chirping noise, like a cross between a regular dolphin sound and a cell phone ring, and disappeared back into the water.

"This is so bizarre."

A muffled noise sounded off to my left and I looked over. Very faintly, almost blended into the sand, was a figure in white, frantically waving his arms and yelling something. I brushed myself off and started to walk in that direction, but it was quickly growing darker. I looked up just in time to see one of the large planets eclipse the moon, and then the dream ended.

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

I awoke in bed with sunlight streaming into my room and cold sweat sticking to my skin. Even though I was under my blanket, I was shivering, and the bed felt slightly damp to the touch. I touched my forehead. Clammy skin.

Was I sick? Was that a fever dream?

I headed over to my shower and turned it as hot as I could stand. I stayed under the water for a long, long time. Gradually, I began to feel better. Almost human. A half hour later, I was fine. I stepped out of the shower feeling great. Placing my hand on my forehead again after drying off, it felt normal. Nothing indicated I was sick.

Strange.

Walking back into my bedroom, I found the bizarre painting propped up against my bed. I picked it back up and stared at it.

"I thought I put you by the front door."

Silence.

"Musta forgot." I threw it back on my bed. "I'll have to remember to take you to Zoey's when I visit her later."

The dolphin watched me as I got dressed. I took it downstairs and set it off to the side as I poured cereal into a bowl.

I noticed the dolphin out of the corner of my eye, still glaring at me.

I put my bowl down and looked at it. "Maybe, maybe I could head over right now. I've got nothing better to do anyways."

In this angle and light, the thing looked… almost angry.

I shuddered. "Yeah, definitely right now."

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

"I think it got put back in my bag by mistake."

"Huh. Whoops." Zoey said as she took it from me. "I was wondering where it went."

"What's your plans for today?"

"Camera shopping, mostly. Trying to find the best models at my budget. Usually I just make do, but I've got so much I can actually get a decent model this time around. Want to come?"

I had a flashback of the forks at Goodwill. "No thanks, I'll pass."

The dolphin caught my eye again.

"Are you sure you want to give that to your niece? Doesn't it seem… I don't know, a little strange?"

Zoey laughed. "Are you still freaked out about this thing?"

I decided not to tell her about the dream.

I spent the rest of the day just loafing around. It was summer, after all. That was kinda the point. I played some random video games that I had bought a long time ago but never tried. Once I got bored of those, I picked up a paperback I had bought from Goodwill. I munched on some food. Nothing crazy.

Over the course of the day, I managed to forget about the painting and the weird dream, the details slowly fading with every passing hour.

By the time I had laid my head on my pillow and slowly drifted into sleep, I had forgotten it had even happened.

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

It was cold. Again.

I sat up with a start, inhaling the freezing, salt-filled air. I was back on the beach. The moon, the planets, the dolphins. It was all there.

I was back.

"What the hell? What's going on?" I stood up and looked around.

As I did so, I saw a man behind me, leaning against a palm tree. He was a white guy with long greasy black hair and a beard to match. His face was gaunt and thin. He was wearing what I assumed used to be a very stylish white three piece suit with golden pinstripes, but it was now a dirty gray with rips and tatters everywhere. The whole outfit hung on him like a blanket. A very battered matching hat completed the ensemble.

Once he saw me looking at him, he straightened up. "Ah, you're awake!"

I immediately took a few steps back and hit something. I spun around to see the "2" sign again, then faced the man. "What's going on?"

"Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you, everything's fine."

"Who are you?!"

He raised his hands in the air in a show of non-hostility. "I'm Greg Thornstine. A guy who picked up a 'Worlds of Wonder' painting, just like you."

I stared at him. "Wait a minute, what?"

He smiled and lowered his arms. "Alright guys, it's cool. I think he's done freaking out."

Several people now came into view, standing up behind the small crest he was on. There was a Hispanic man dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, and older woman in a business suit, a teenage girl in black clothing, and another white guy in a camo jacket and pants. They all looked similar to Greg; thing faces, torn, baggy clothing, long hair and beards on the men. They watched me with a dull expression.

"Alright newcomer, welcome. This is Jose, Anne, Suzy, and Tom."

"Uh, hi?"

They stared at me in silence.

"Oh, um… I'm Liam, I guess. What's going on here?"

"Well," Greg started, "at some point, you picked up a 'Worlds of Wonder' painting, just like us. I'm assuming the sticker on the back said '2 of 59?'"

"Yeah…"

Greg pointed to the sign behind me.

"So what, every time I fall asleep I come here?"

Jose said something in Spanish.

"Calm down," Greg said, turning to Jose, "he doesn't know that yet." Then he looked back at me. "I'm afraid that's just the beginning. You've visited here once before, right?"

I remembered the white figure on the beach. "Yeah. Was that you waving at me?"

He nodded. "This place draws you in threes. First night's sleep, second night's sleep, then on the third day. At some point after you wake up, you're going to come back here. And that time, it'll be permanent."

I looked at the group. "I don't believe you."

The teenager shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You'll come here anyway."

"This is just some weird dream I keep having. That's all."

The business woman rolled her eyes. "I told you Greg, this will get us nowhere."

"Hush, Anne. It's worth a shot." Greg turned back to me. "Listen kid, you've got what we didn't have. Forewarning. So listen very closely to what I'm about to tell you."

I took a few steps closer and leaned in.

"When you wake up, grab food. Stuff your face like there's no tomorrow. Cram your pockets with anything you can think of. The higher the calories, the better, but try to diversify. Meat, fruit, candy. Don't worry about it spoiling, Just have as much on you when you come here. You'll thank me later."

I stared. Then I chuckled. I laughed for almost a minute straight. "You're crazy! Scratch that, I'M crazy, YOU'RE not real! This is a dream. I'm not gonna start binge eating just 'cause my dreams told me it was a good idea!"

Jose began muttering in Spanish again.

"I need you to listen to me. Please." Greg looked at me with concern. "This is your one shot here. This is going to happen. I can't stop it, and neither can you. This is your one chance to make sure your life isn't a living hell when you get here. Please just take it."

"Then answer me this: why has no one thought to try fishing?" I gestured to the ocean behind me, arms flailing.

At that moment, the dolphin jumped out of the water, chirping another mechanical sound.

"Ain't no fish in that ocean." The man in camo said darkly. "And before you go getting any bright ideas, there's nothing in those dolphins 'cept gears and springs. We've tried everything there is to try."

I lowered my arms. "What about escaping?"

The business woman shook her head. "This place is an island. Nowhere to go. And even if we knew where we could swim to, those… things" she spat, looking out at the waves "would tear us apart in no time flat."

"This is insane." I whispered.

"Insane or not, it's happening." Greg said. "And it's going to keep happening. For your own sake, Liam, do what I said."

I moved around the sign and began backing up. "No no no no no no no, this isn't happening. This isn't real. This is just a weird dream, this isn't…" I felt a sudden surge of cold around my ankles, Surprised, I lost my balance and fell backwards into the cool, dark water. I was buffed about by a wave, dragged farther in. I tried to swim up, but I couldn't. The air burned in my lungs. I screamed, and stinging salt water filled my chest. Struggling, I slowly lost consciousness…

…and awoke in my own bed.

It was soaked. Every movement I made caused the mattress to seep salt water, like an over-absorbed sponge. There was a thin layer of it trickling down my body, and I was violently shivering. Even my teeth were chattering.

"W-wh-wha-th-the-f-f-f-f-f" I stumbled out of my bed, fell on the floor, and scrambled back up, putting the shower on the highest heat possible, stripped out of my clothes and climbed in, too shocked to think. After an eternity standing under the blazing hot water, feeling returned to my fingers, and I turned the heat down just a bit. I started going over my options.

What the hell was I supposed to do? Go to the police? And tell them what? I'm going to get kidnapped by a painting? A theoretical physicist might be more help. Or a ghostbuster. I laughed. I felt like a lunatic. I suppose I was close to becoming one.

"Calm down" I said out loud. "We're going to approach this one option at a time. Just think of the next thing to do. After that's done, you can think of what to do after that."

Zoey. I'll ask her. She's handled the painting too. Maybe the same thing's been happening to her, but she just wrote it off like I did. At the very least, she might have an idea of what to do next.

I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and went back to my room.

The painting was hanging above my bed's headboard.

I looked at it, then touched it.

It fell to the ground. The wall behind it had no hooks or nails to keep it in place.

I grabbed the painting and rushed off to Zoey's place.

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

"Alright, one more time. Slower please."

I was at Zoey's house, in her living room. Her dad answered the door as he was leaving to go to work. She was still sleeping, so she was talking to me in her pajamas.

"I've told you three times already. Why don't you believe me?" I asked.

"I believe you. Or at least, I believe you think you're telling the truth. You are way too freaked out to be making this up right now."

"So what, I'm crazy?"

She looked at me. "That's definitely one possibility."

I waved the painting in the air. "Then how do you explain this?"

"Well, I'd rather not think you broke into my house and stole it…"

"Are you fucking serious! This is…"

Zoey grabbed the sides of my head and locked eyes with me. "Liam! Calm down! I said it was a possibility! I didn't say that this whole painting kidnapping thing wasn't also a possibility! Now, look at me."

I stopped flailing about and kept eye contact.

"You are NOT going to get stuck in that painting" she said loudly.

"But Greg said…"

She stared at me.

"Right, I'm not going to get stuck in this painting."

"Good." She let go of me and walked over to her dining room table, where her laptop and a bunch of cameras sat.

I jumped up and followed her. "So what are we going to do?"

"You're going to help me test this camera's ability to stream."

"What? Zoey, we need to do something about this!"

"This is something!" Zoey yelled back. Then she sighed and spoke in a much softer voice. "Look, I don't know what to do. This is the best I can think of. This way, I can keep tabs on you all day. If the day goes by and you're still on planet earth, we'll deal with you being crazy. If you vanish and the stream goes out, I figure out how to get you back."

"So that's your plan? Wait until I get vanished then figure out how to pull me back?"

"Until we can think of a better one."

I sighed. "Alright. I'll wait here for you to get dressed, I guess."

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

I was incredibly tense the whole rest of the day.

It was bad. I jumped at every little noise. Especially water. Anything moved, I immediately shouted at it. I alternated between filming and heading back to Zoey's computer to watch her compare the qualities of each footage capture. It didn't help that I was shaking the whole time, making the videos look pretty much incomprehensible.

The worst was when Zoey told me to go out into the neighborhood far away to test the range. Every time, she had to assure me that if the stream went out and I didn't come back for five minutes, she would assume the worst had happened. When I was done filming, she would text me to come back, and I would bolt. Even though it was only five minutes, I swear they took forever. Something about being alone made me feel vulnerable.

Zoey, for her part, was holding it together remarkably well. She alternated between shouting directions at me and calming me down, then do some stuff on her laptop like nothing was wrong. Still not 100 percent sure how she did it; my behavior alone should have been enough to unnerve her.

It was about five at this point and the sun was just barely beginning to set.

"Alright Liam, I need you to go behind that shed."

I looked over to the small building in her backyard. "That one?"

"Yeah" she looked over at me. "Don't worry, I'll be watching the footage the whole time."

I inhaled. "Okay." With the camera on my shoulder, I slowly crept up behind the shed and stepped around.

Darkness.

Suddenly, silver light bathed the landscape. It was that damn painting again. I twirled around, pointing the camera in every direction. "ZOEY! ZOE! ARE YOU SEEING…"

A fist suddenly landed square on my jaw. There wasn't a lot of power behind it, but it surprised me so much that it caused me to lose my balance, falling over on the sand. I looked down to see the gaunt Greg fishing through my pockets, with the rest of the group behind him.

"Damn it! Nothing! Not one single thing! WHY DIDN'T YOU LISTEN TO ME?" He slapped my face hard, hard enough to sting.

"I..what…who?"

"Come on, Greg, your little experiment didn't work." The business woman took out a sharpened shiv. "Time to do what we should have done originally."

He glared at me. "Not even a single pack of Oreos? Come on, are you trying to get yourself killed?"

The teen girl scoffed and she drew out a similar shiv. "Like we wouldn't have killed him if he did."

"No, but, fuck, I miss Oreos." Greg scowled and revealed a large hunting knife.

I panicked. Out of pure, primal reflex, I squirmed out from under Greg and kicked him in the face. He was surprisingly light and flew backwards, a sickening crunch coming from his face. I scurried to my feet and grabbed the camera, not sure why, and sprinted away on the beach.

"SHOOT HIM TOM!" I heard Greg yell from behind me.

"Only got four bullets left."

Spanish.

"No, but just sayin'…"

There was a bang of sound and I felt a stinging sensation at my arm. I saw blood running down it and had to readjust my grip to keep the camera. There was another, and I felt a similar sensation on my leg.

"AGAIN!"

"Stop it Greg! We've only got two bullets left! Let him bleed out."

I kept running, but the beach seemed to go on forever. My muscles felt sore, My lungs were on fire. I felt close to collapse. I tripped over my own feet and fell face-first in the sand, salt and grit going up my nostrils and into my mouth. I started to get up, but I couldn't. Despite the cold, I felt like I was burning up.

"See?"

"I'll get the fire going. Good eating for once."

The heat kept rising. My flesh felt like it was on fire. I began to scream as my vision turned red.

"What the hell?…"

Darkness overtook me.

I woke up in Zoey's back yard.

"Liam, Liam, holy shit are you alright?"

I coughed out bloody sand. "Never better. I'm just gonna…" My vision faded into black again.

"Hey, HEY!" Zoey slapped me. "Stay awake. C'mon, we're going to the hospital."

"Wonderful" I muttered as she dialed some numbers on her phone.

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

As we waited for the ambulance to get there, Zoey made me recite a cover story about how I had accidentally shot myself with her hunting rifle while she was showing it off to me. I later learned that this had two reasons: one, to keep me conscious until the paramedics could do their thing, and two, to give a good cover story to the police. As she told me later, "The last thing I wanted to have happen that day was to get my stuff ransacked from the Men in Black or something."

Because I kept trying to fall asleep on her, she made me recite it over and over again. Good thing, too; I ended up telling it so well that when the cops had finished taking my statement, one of them told me "Sorry to trouble you, but it's procedure. We just want to make sure this wasn't something else."

I smiled and told them I understood.

I spent a week or two in the ICU. The nurse told me that the shots were, luckily, grazes. Neither managed to strike any vessels, muscles, or bones, so all I needed was some blood and stitches, then some observation to make sure there were no complications.

My parents visited once or twice, and even Zoey's dad. Zoey, however, stayed the most by my side, usually in a corner fiddling with her cameras or laptop. When I told her she could go home, she just scoffed and went back to whatever she was doing.

On the second day, I started feeling better and actually started to stay up instead of briefly waking up and then passing out. When Zoey came back to my room to hang out, I smiled and waved at her.

"Hey, you were right."

"About what?" she asked.

"I didn't get stuck in the painting."

She shook her head and laughed. "Liam, I honestly thought you were crazy. I was gonna show you the stream footage after the day was over and then try to convince you to check into an asylum." She sat down across from me and filled me in on what happened from her end.

Apparently, when I went behind the shed, the streaming didn't stop. In fact, the camera showed Zoey everything that was happening: the beach, Greg, all of it. Later in the week, she played me the video that was taken, proof that I wasn't insane. It shows everything, including the air going orange, dark, and then suddenly reappearing in the backyard.

As soon as Zoey saw this landscape with me in it, she freaked. She ran upstairs, tore up the painting and broke the wood canvas, and ran back to the yard, where her laptop was. When that failed to do anything, she ran back inside and got the painting scraps, threw them in the backyard, and set them on fire. After a second or two, the fire erupted and doubled in size, and a few seconds after that, the video turned orange. The fire died down and I was lying there, unharmed with the exception of the gunshots. Somehow, I managed to hold onto the camera the whole time.

"Good thing too, or I would've thrown you back there" she joked.

Both the SD card in the camera and the stream footage recorded the same thing. We spent a long time talking about what had happened, and we ended up deciding not to show it to anyone else. At best, they probably thought we were trying to pull some elaborate prank. At worst… who knows?

It must have really stuck in Zoey's head, though, because after a few days, she asked if she could post it online, under the guise of a short horror film project and write out what had happened before that as a creepypasta-like story. She promised to change all the names. I didn't see a reason not to, so I said sure.

After a few days, when I was no longer recovering but just under observation, the visitors stopped coming, and even Zoey showed up less frequently. Bored, I spent some time online, looking up "Worlds of Wonder."

Nothing showed up.

The only thing I found was on Greg Thornstine. Apparently, he was once a multimillionaire heir and art enthusiast. He disappeared one night after acting irrationally and was never found. I read his whole story on an article entitled "10 of the Most Mysterious Missing Persons Cases in History." No mention of the painting.

I couldn't find anything on anyone else. Just a factoid that at any given time, around 90,000 people are missing in the United States.

I stopped searching after that.

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

One week later, I was out of the hospital. The doctor told me to avoid alcohol for the time being, so naturally, Zoey wanted to celebrate with beers at her place. I told her I'd come but not drink. She laughed and then told me she had something to show me.

We were once again sitting on her porch. With a flourish, she pulled out her laptop and showed it to me. It was the footage from the beach, uploaded to Youtube. It had 100,000 views.

"I just uploaded this, like, three days ago!" she exclaimed. "It's already blown up! This thing is everywhere! And everyone's talking about the story too! How it's so weird and creepy! It gave me an idea: why don't I do this stuff while I'm filming the 'Faces of America' thing? I'll already be going place to place. I could do this, like, video pod format where each episode is a different city or state and I'll talk about the urban legends and maybe even find something! Wouldn't that be cool?"

"Zoey…"

"Before you say anything, I'm not trying to rope you into it. I mean, I already know you can't come, but…"

"Zoey!"

She stopped.

"I'm in."

Zoey looked at me. "Liam, don't mess with me."

"I'm serious. Zoey, I just saw something that shouldn't exist. And nobody would know about that painting if you hadn't have posted it. It makes…" I could feel myself blushing a bit, but I continued. "It makes me wonder what else is out there."

Zoey didn't respond. She just looked at me. Then she hugged me. Hard.

That's how Creepy America started.

[artificialqueens]

When You Got a Good Thing (Trixya) - Pichitinha

A/N: hi peoples of aq! i’m back with more useless lesbians fics bc that’s how it is in this life. you can find it on AO3 and you can message me at @pichitinha

Summary: Trixie chuckles a bit and gives her a soft look, and even though the jokes don’t really bother Katya she wishes their friends would see and comment on this too, the non-physical intimate moments they have, which is part of the reason that their, yes-physical moments are so special too. Katya squeezes her hand again. It’s okay, she tries to pass. It’s just a joke. - Also known as that one time Trixie and Katya were useless lesbians and Willam tricked them into a bet.

It all had started mostly as a joke to their friends. When they started dating everyone had claimed that they had always acted like a couple anyway, way before getting together, so there wouldn’t be much of a difference. They obviously took it upon themselves - Trixie being fiery and daring, and Katya just loving to play the fool - to be always all over each other and to be borderline ridiculous with their excessive PDA whenever any of them were around.

Their friends knew they were playing, of course, but truth is that beyond the natural development of dating that gets people closer, constantly joking about being so extremely passionate had in itself made them, well, extremely passionate.

So Trixie and Katya are very physical and that’s common knowledge and also not a problem because they know the line between joking and making people uncomfortable. When they’re with their friends, it’s overacted and sort of jokingly, but when they’re alone it’s also there, present - it’s sudden kisses, light butt slaps, thigh squeezing, hands on hands or hips or anywhere, really.

Katya doesn’t see the harm in being so passionate about her girlfriend anyway, doesn’t understand why it’d be wrong to want to touch her and be with her and just overall want her constantly. But it’s all good because their friends are just playful, their comments lack malice and it’s more of an inside joke with their group than a real critique. They don’t really mind and it’s not like Trixie and her are ever disrespectful.

Except Trixie maybe does mind it a little. She never says anything but Katya knows her. She knows it when Trixie exaggerates a bit when they’re all hanging out, draping herself over Katya and making it obvious what she’s doing, and she knows it when she retreats, actually interacts less with Katya and makes people think they’re fighting. Katya is certain it’s involuntary and she considers if she herself should maybe say something to them when Trixie isn’t there. She’d never say anything herself, Katya knows she wouldn’t want to be the buzzkill when it’s obviously harmless, but it bothers her and therefore it bothers Katya.

Of course Trixie eventually takes matters into her own hands by being impatient and bratty - Katya should have seen it coming, really.

They’re all hanging out at Courtney’s new place on a Friday night, their stomachs full of pizza and wine, and so the loud conversations have been slowly dwindled to mostly whispers. It all happens when Willam takes a jab at Trixie, as it usually goes, and Trixie is normally cool with it, knows Willam and likes her a lot and gets that she’s always just trying to have a good time, but Trixie’s been off all day due to cramps and she’s had a bit more wine than she should and Katya recognizes the look on her face that says that she didn’t take it well. And when she replies, maybe she doesn’t do it with the best approach of all times.

“Well, it’s not our fault you’re fucking lonely.”

Katya’s blood runs cold as she catches the words her girlfriend is saying and, most importantly, her serious tone. She looks around the room to see that everyone sort of stopped talking. On one hand it’s Willam, so chances are she’ll just laugh or bark back and won’t take the words to heart - she isn’t looking for a relationship right now and everyone sort of knows that she and Courtney have this weird thing going on that no one wants to ask about. On the other hand, the words are harsh and Trixie’s already not in the best mood, so if Willam replies in the slightest wrong way, Katya is sure an argument will start.

Willam smirks, though, and Katya takes this moment to squeeze Trixie’s hand as if she’s saying calm down. “My problem is not that I’m lonely, my problem is that you guys aren’t teenagers anymore, you can’t possibly have all these hormones still. Especially now, after all these years together. ”

“We’re just passionate! And also adults, who can be physical if and whenever they want,” Trixie tries with a forced light tone. Katya can see that she knows she’s on edge and that she’s trying hard not to start something. Katya is proud of her, but she can also see she’s anxious. She tries to chime in.

“Yeah, my girlfriend’s really hot, you can’t blame me.”

Trixie chuckles a bit and gives her a soft look, and even though the jokes don’t really bother Katya she wishes their friends would see and comment on this too, the non-physical intimate moments they have, which is part of the reason that their, yes-physical moments are so special too. Katya squeezes her hand again. It’s okay, she tries to pass. It’s just a joke.

Willam narrows her eyes then, and for the first time Katya can’t tell if she’s gonna keep joking or if she’ll get serious. She’s apprehensive either way.

“Hmm. I wonder. Are you the one super horny for her or is she the one super horny for you?” Willam points with her index finger at the two of them, her glass of wine still secured with her other four fingers. For some reason it makes her look surprisingly wise and dignified. “Which one of you is faking to make this work?”

Trixie sits up straighter immediately as she hears the words, she’s clearly offended and to be honest Katya is as well, even if she knows Willam is just trying to rile them up. It’s working.

“We are both very much in love and attracted to each other, thank you very much-”

Willam cuts Trixie off, a sly grin on her lips. Katya is convinced she got to where she wanted to get. “Yeah? How about a bet then?”

“What?” Trixie and Katya say at the same time, both confused by this turn of events. Given all the other girls’ faces, they are too.

“A bet. We’ll see which one of you can last the longest without being intimate. I bet neither of you can last a week - unless this whole thing is an act and you’ll actually last forever.”

“That’s ridicul-” Katya starts saying, but she distinctively hears Trixie’s voice alongside hers.

“It’s obviously me.”

Katya snorts as she turns back to her girlfriend. “What?”

“I could definitely last longer without, like, touching or kissing you than the other way around,” she defies quickly.

“Right,” she replies sarcastically. “You’re super cuddly all the time!”

“And you are super horny all the time!”

Katya raises her eyebrows and opens her mouth in an offended gasp, but closes it soon after. Trixie’s right, she is.

“I’d win, bitch.” Trixie taunts, her lips tugging slightly into a grin. And honestly this is all very childish, but it got Trixie to forget all about the possible argument and her eyes are sparkling because she loves to play games, so Katya just goes along.

“I’m more resilient,” Katya follows suit, can admit to herself that she also likes games.

Willam is forgotten at the other side of the room by this point, but it doesn’t matter: the bet is on.

*

The first few days go by easily enough, Katya has a thousand papers to grade and classes to plan, and Trixie has a new band she’s handling at the studio, so they’re barely ever home and they’re freshly excited about their bet, which makes it easier to go to sleep without a goodnight kiss and to not take showers together in the morning.

They’d established with Willam what counted and what didn’t and the only clear instructions were that, obviously, sex and kissing were off the table. Hugging and touching in general is considered fine, as long as it isn’t sexual - which was a really fun and not awkward at all conversation to have in front of all of their friends.

It’s not like it’s actually easy. They’re allowed the simple touches and all but most of the intimacy that they share and that Katya loves is forbidden, including - especially - any form of kissing, which is stupid because kissing has always been one of Katya’s favorite things to do. Kissing Trixie is Katya’s favorite thing to do. And honestly, to consider that they’re allowed or forbidden to do things is in itself very idiotic.

Plus, of course, the novelty fades soon. Katya wonders what sort of heterosexual nonsense they’d gotten themselves into, not fucking or kissing her girlfriend? For no reason at all other than Willam being stupid? Not their smartest move.

Still, Katya knows for sure that they’ll both suffer through this until it becomes literally unbearable. Katya loves winning, Trixie hates losing. They may look like they’re the same thing, but not quite. And yet, they’ll carry them through.

Katya is determined to play it fair - not out of goodness, though, she knows that if they were to enter a seduction game she’d lose disastrously, is as certain of very few things as she is of how attracted to Trixie Mattel she feels. She doesn’t even want to think about it, can’t risk tempting herself.

It’s a late afternoon on Tuesday, almost four days since the bet took place, and Katya already despises the whole thing with a burning passion. She’s sprawled out on their living room floor, papers and post-its scattered around her as she tries to understand the handwriting of one particular student on a really long essay, when Trixie comes in with messy hair and looking exhausted.

“Hey,” Katya greets her absentmindedly, smiles warmly at her and watches as she removes her shoes and her earrings and puts her hair in a messy bun.

“Hi,” Trixie replies with the same tone, seemingly happy to be home with her, and it fills Katya’s heart. For a few seconds everything is normal, Trixie walks towards her and sits down opposite her on the floor, raises her hand and moves forward as if to cup her cheek and kiss her. Katya is leaning in too, without thinking, and then suddenly they both stop, midway through.

“Oh.”

“This is very stupid,” Trixie says as she leans back, sighs as if to signify how childish she finds it all.

“Uhum,” Katya hums in agreement. “You’re free to kiss me and end this, then.”

Trixie narrows her eyes then. “Nice try.”

“Don’t even start with me, miss thing, you’re the one who is trying.”

Trixie smirks, shrugs a little. “Maybe.”

“Does that mean you want to kiss me?”

Trixie snorts, changes position so that all of her curves are more prominent and enticing, which Katya totally doesn’t think is fair.

“Do I want to kiss my girlfriend? Nah.”

Katya laughs and hits her arm playfully. “Okay, let me work then. I gotta finish this.”

“All right. I’m gonna shower and then I’ll order us something. Chinese?”

“Hmm… Thai?”

“Sure.” And before vanishing into the bathroom Trixie leaves her with a big bright smile and Katya’s heart jumps a little.

She isn’t sure she’ll be able to last until the weekend.

*

They sit on opposite sides of the couch, like always, their calves touching in the middle seat and Katya doesn’t even think about how they could be hugging because she’s just happy to be spending time with her favorite person. She may hate not being able to properly touch Trixie, but there’s a lot more to being with her that Katya loves anyway.

First Katya tells Trixie about her day, about how half of her grading process was taken up by just trying to figure out what letters her students had written, because not only are the handwritings painful, but it’s also complicated to guess what they meant when they’re trying to write in french and are simply butchering every single spelling possible (she’s half certain that one of her students invented at least three new types of accents - as if French didn’t already have enough).

She tells Trixie about one cute essay she read at the beginning where the girl was telling a romantic story and it was definitely between two girls, unless she totally forgot the word il and all gendered word variations existed, and Trixie smiles fondly at her, the way that she always reserves for when they’re alone and that emcompases all of her feelings into one quiet moment, and Katya hopes she’s doing it right back because normally she’d slide over to Trixie and kiss her softly on the lips, whisper her words quietly into it, but right now she can’t, even if she hates it.

Then Trixie tells Katya about her day, sings the few lines she remembers from the single of the new band she’s negotiating with right now and the song is terrible but Katya still relishes the chance to hear Trixie singing. It’s not a rare occurrence at all, Trixie sings and hums all the time - as she showers, as she does the dishes, as she does the laundry, you name it. But Katya can’t get enough of it, really, is always blown away by her soft voice, even if her range isn’t all that impressive. It’s such a calming tone and it makes Katya feel all sorts of ways, it’s always guaranteed at making her fall in love a little bit more.

And that’s when Katya realizes that Trixie isn’t trying to seduce her, but she is possibly trying to trick Katya into caving.

She sits up straighter in a second and Trixie stops singing, raises her eyebrows questioningly.

“Trixie Mattel, are you tricking me into kissing you?”

Trixie raises her eyebrows even more at that and for a second Katya thinks she misread everything, but soon enough the sides of her mouth start trembling and she looks sheepish.

“I mean, not exactly-”

“Oh my god!” Katya is actually laughing alongside Trixie as she slaps her shin. “One might take your plans and think you’re too eager to be able to kiss me. I would consider this as you losing.”

An outraged sound leaves Trixie’s throat and Katya just laughs louder. “No way! I’m using the cards I have!”

“Oh, is that how you wanna play?” Katya knows she’s a dumbass because there’s no way she’d win if Trixie started really trying, but she can’t help it. There are very few things she enjoys more than riling up Trixie.

“Consider this: you don’t wanna do this.”

Trixie’s attempt at a ominous face is a disaster and undeniably adorable so Katya can’t help but giggle as she holds Trixie’s knees and stares her in the eyes, Trixie giggling right back.

“Oh, you’re on, bitch.”

*

It’s Wednesday morning and Katya is reminded of why she had decided she wasn’t gonna enter a seduction game with Trixie. Trixie never gets up before Katya does unless work hours require it, and since Katya gets up at the crack of dawn on Wednesdays to attend a yoga class before going to school, it’s something that never, ever happened on that day. Until now.

When Katya’s alarm clock goes off and her eyes open, the very first thing she sees is Trixie standing right in front of her with her back to Katya. She’s facing the mirror as she applies something to her hair and combs it calmly, all of it suspiciously slowly. Oh, and she is wearing only a fucking towel - which barely covers her ass.

“Fuck,” she murmurs, her eyes still sleepy but her whole body kicking into gear.

Trixie turns around then, has such a fake innocent look on her face that Katya has half a mind to just jump out of the bed and grab her, but in reality she’s frozen in her spot as she eyes the entirety of Trixie’s thighs uncovered by the white towel. They look super soft and Katya knows they are, but she still wants to touch and make sure.

“Hey, good morning.”

Katya just squints her eyes, which probably looks really funny considering they were already half closed with sleep.

“You are the worst.”

Trixie smirks, keeps on brushing her hair as if she’s done nothing, the towel teasing at revealing more as her body shuffles with the motion.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

There’s a 90% chance that Katya’s plan for an immediate response will backfire, but what has she got to lose?

“It’s a shame we have this bet because looking at you right now there’s literally nothing I would like more than to kneel in front of you and eat you out until your knees give out and you’re falling on top of me with shaky legs, the towel totally forgotten already on the floor, sweat dripping down your back. Guess all I can do is touch myself in the shower to the thought of that, though.”

“Oh,” Trixie gasps with wide eyes, her hand stopping abruptly as she flushes lightly but immediately. The small moment of victory takes over Katya quickly, allows for her to get up in her tank top and panties and walk over to the bathroom, feeling fairly confident that now Trixie is the one eyeing her bare skin.

She just winks before closing the bathroom door. Trixie is still flustered.

*

Katya doesn’t touch herself in the shower and she spends almost the entire day with the image of Trixie in the small towel haunting her brain. It’s ridiculous because she’s seen Trixie naked hundreds and hundreds of times and also in every possible sexy outfit and also in towels and basically every option available where Trixie would look sexy - which, well, is always. But since they started dating they have never gone so long without even kissing, and the fact that they live together and constantly see each other only adds to it - they can kiss but they can’t and that’s the most stupid decision they have ever made, which is astounding because the bar is pretty low, especially on Katya’s side.

“Willam tells me you and Trixie are being ridiculous?” Alaska’s voice pulls her out of her thoughts and she realizes she’s been pressing her pen to her notebook for the past however many minutes and it’s leaked through and made a huge blue spot on her annotations. “She didn’t elaborate on it, though. I can’t believe you guys decide to do dumb shit the one night I can’t come to dinner. And that you had all week to tell me and didn’t yet.”

“Willam is the one who is ridiculous, me and Trixie did nothing.”

“Trixie and I,” Alaska corrects her as she sits down on the top of Katya’s page, forcing her to look up.

“Well, I teach French not English and in French we definitely say Trixie et moi so I’m gonna stick to that.” She doesn’t want to talk about this stupid bet so, yeah, she’s deflecting.

“You’re not speaking French right now so that doesn’t apply.”

“Veux-tu que je parle en français?”

“Stop that!” Alaska laughs and fake-slaps Katya’s shoulder. “French is sexy and I don’t wanna think of you as sexy. And you’re changing the subject and I don’t like it, tell me what you guys did.”

Katya rolls her eyes and sighs. Not only did Willam somehow trick them into this, but she’s also gossiping about it.

“Willam managed to talk us into a bet.“

Alaska nods and encourages with a roll of her hands. ”… About?“

Katya’s nose twitches unpleasantly, she knows that saying the words will make it all sound even more childish. "To see which one of us could last longer without kissing or being intimate with the other.”

Alaska’s eyebrows shoot up immediately, her lips quirking. “You both said yes to that?”

“Yes, okay, we’re two idiots. That’s not news to anybody.”

“Oh my god,” Alaska laughs loudly. “And how’s that going? Have you caved already?”

“No. It’s horrible, I hate it, Trixie’s too pretty and I’m too horny.”

“At least the sex will be great when one of you caves.”

“Me. It’s gonna be me.” The fact that she’s gonna lose has been very clear to her from the beginning, she just wants to last a while and be less pathetic.

“You just need a strategy.”

“This isn’t chess, Alaska.”

Alaska just rolls her eyes. “You know your problem? You’re whipped and she knows it. Well, everyone knows it. Just stop showing that, block her out, fake disinterest when you’re together.”

Alaska, as it seems, is insane. “Right,” Katya replies sarcastically.

“No, listen, I’m serious. Of course you’re gonna want to rail her, you just don’t have to show it. Like, I don’t know, everytime she tries to seduce you just think of a random boring man being boring or something.”

“If you think I can shut off my arousal like that you’ve got a problem, Lasky.”

“Just try it, ok! I’m gonna start a bet on your bet and I’m gonna bet on you, so you better win.”

“Oh my god.”

*

It’s not that Alaska’s idea is stupid, it’s just that Katya knows herself and she knows her girlfriend and there’s no way she would manage that. Still, it’s not like she has any other choice, so she might as well just give it a try, just so she could go to Alaska and rub it in her face that you were wrong, bitch.

Katya always wears her heart on her sleeve, everyone knows what’s she’s feeling and especially Trixie, who knows her so well. So she practices it the rest of the afternoon in class, showing as little emotion as she can possibly muster at the antics of her students and she does it well, apparently, because at the end of her last class a group of them asks her if she’s alright.

She isn’t exactly confident, but there’s a chance she might just pull it off - even if only for a few minutes.

When Katya gets home late that evening Trixie is already back and she’s sitting at the dining table with her laptop out, apparently doing some extra work. She has her back to the door so Katya can’t see her face, but her shoulders look tense and she doesn’t even turn when Katya comes in.

“Hey, babe,” she greets her once she closes the door and Trixie jerks at the sound, turning around fast. She looks tired and stressed and for a split second all Katya can think of is running her a relaxing bath and giving her a massage, so she freezes in her spot.

“Hey. How was your day?”

She shrugs, doesn’t want to tell about her talk with Alaska, and basically the only thing she did all day other than that was think about eating Trixie out and she’s not about to tell her that when she’s trying to seem cool and unbothered. “Just a normal day. What about you?”

She sighs as if she’d been holding it in all day. “It was a complete nightmare but I don’t wanna talk about it right now, I just want to forget it. Can I just say that I hate, hate, hate Kevin?”

Katya snorts, very much familiar with said hatred. “Yes dear, I know,” she mocks and Trixie gives her a tiny smile instead of the usual grin.

“Can we just like have dinner and a quiet night in? I really just need to not think about anything that happened today.”

Katya nods slowly, swallows quietly sits down on the sofa. Usually not thinking about anything involves lots of activities that they can’t do right now. Is Trixie lowkey trying to make her break?

“Sure,” she replies fake uninterested while searching for the remote and turning the TV on. She’s focusing all of her power on keeping a straight face and following Alaska’s instructions, she’s very determined to try her very best in lasting at least until bedtime - Alaska can’t possibly expect her to fake disinterest in bed. With Trixie. It’s outrageous, really.

Trixie is quiet for a while and when Katya glances at her she’s still sort of looking at Katya, seems maybe a little puzzled. Maybe Katya is a better actress than she thought. She clears her throat and goes back to the TV, doesn’t change the channel from where a ridiculously boring documentary about weasels seems to have just begun and pretends to be paying attention, even though she’s mostly thinking three things: one, weasels are cute; two, Malfoy made a great weasel in the fourth Harry Potter movie and three, Trixie is mere feet away from her and it would be really easy to just go over and kiss her and take her right there on the table.

She shakes her head and focuses on the first two items because they definitely seem safe and she can hear the sound of Trixie’s fingers on her keyboard not long after that, which means she’s back to work. It’s quiet for a good while after that, so much so that Katya actually pays attention to the documentary and finds herself oddly invested in the little fur creatures.

“Do you think we should adopt a weasel?” she blurts out eventually when a bunch of them are grouped playing together in the wild. They’re adorable.

Trixie is obviously stunned back to reality and definitely confused. “What?”

Katya points at the TV without turning to Trixie. “A weasel! Look how cute they are.”

“I am pretty sure it’s illegal to own a weasel.”

Katya just pouts. “You never let me do anything fun,” she complains and looks back at Trixie, who’s somehow even more disheveled than she was when Katya got home and her heart gives two quick thuds. Oh god, she’s such a loser.

“How about a dog?” Trixie suggests nonchalantly but without a hint of a teasing. “Or maybe a cat, since we don’t have a lot of space or time for a dog?”

Trixie is seriously suggesting a pet and Katya’s brain short circuits for a second. They’ve been living together for over a year and dating for even longer, but adopting an animal seems so serious. Not that she isn’t serious about their relationship, she one hundred percent is, she just didn’t expect the topic to simply arise on a Wednesday afternoon when she and her girlfriend are willingly not being intimate and she’s trying really hard to pretend she’s not horny.

And now on top of horny she feels such a surge of affection for Trixie that she debates quickly whether or not it’s worth it to just lose the bet right now and tackle her. Trixie is apparently not overthinking the whole thing like Katya, though, because she gets up and walks to the kitchen.

Get yourself together, you needy lesbian mess.

Now Katya really wants the damn cat and she really, really wants to kiss Trixie, but she won’t budge just yet. She’s managing it so far and she’ll last until bedtime. When Trixie gets back from the kitchen Katya doesn’t turn to look at her.

Blank face, Katya. Blank face.

She feels Trixie’s eyes on her for a while, but soon she looks back to her computer and Katya goes back to the TV.

The rest of the night goes by unusually quiet.

*

Katya wakes up on Thursday to the distinct feeling of Trixie’s warm hand very high on her thigh. It’s stilled but spread open, all of her fingers touching a patch of skin, some of them dangerously close to the inside of her thighs. She’s gasping before she’s fully awake, even if Trixie has not moved an inch.

She forgets her act detached plan.

“Morning,” Trixie smirks, her face rested at the end of the pillow almost in the middle of the bed, where she’d go to meet Katya halfway for a kiss - if they could kiss.

Katya’s response is split. Half of her brain makes her body turn completely in a way that makes Trixie’s hand nest in between her thighs and their faces almost touch, while her mouth says “You little devil.”

Trixie giggles sleepyly and it’s the cutest thing ever and truly not fair to Katya. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Katya shakes her head as much as she can with half of it smashed into the pillow. “Are your cramps finally over?” She’d gone to bed complaining the previous night after taking an advil.

Trixie just sighs. The air hits Katya’s nose and it tickles her a bit. “Are they ever? I feel like a newborn.”

Katya lets out a breathy laugh through her nose and absentmindedly moves her hand to Trixie’s hip, not to try anything, but really just because.

“You’ve been working too much,” she muses as if that could be a cause for cramps. “You should come home to relax not work.”

Trixie opens her mouth and squints her eyes for a second before closing them as if she changed her mind. Katya could press it, but Trixie soon hums lightly before moving her head down and resting it below Katya’s chin, her hands moving up from her thigh - previous task apparently forgotten - to hug around Katya’s stomach.

Katya’s heart aches a little with how good this feels and how much she loves the woman in her arms. She hugs her back, squeezes her middle twice in hopes she’ll understand what she means.

“Cuddling like this is fine, right?” Trixie asks in a low voice, doesn’t sound all that worried, honestly, even if Katya knows best.

“I declare that it is.”

Trixie giggles again and Katya is aware that they’ll have to be up soon because they both have to go to work and she’s overly aware of the fact that she really, really wants to kiss her, but she closes her eyes and lets this moment sink in for a bit.

All in all, she wouldn’t change a thing about it.

*

Katya spends the entirety of Thursday morning trying to erase the image of Trixie in her only red lingerie out of her brain. She’d stepped out of the shower earlier that day relaxed and happy and ready to face the day after their nice cuddling session under the rising sun but had instead been met with Trixie wearing the set she rarely ever wears, unless she’s doing something special for Katya.

Katya is, of course, fucking turned on by her overall existence and how hot she looks in the piece, but part of her is also a little irrationally mad that Trixie would break tradition on the garment just to win a bet.

That reminds her that Trixie is also playing the game and that she decided on the whole cool and unbothered shabang because she couldn’t possibly win using the same weapons as Trixie, so she ought to go back to pretending she doesn’t care.

Unlike the previous morning, then, she made absolutely zero comments about it and looked at her body a total of two times while she was distracted only and left with a quick goodbye that left Trixie with her eyebrows up to her hair in bewilderment.

But, of course, now the image of her red lingerie clad girlfriend is etched onto her brain and she’s cursing every generation of Willam’s family as she tries instead to think of the accent agúd she’s trying to teach.

It’s not working very well.

“Miss Zamo?” one of her students asks, stunning her out of her stupor, and she shakes her head at how unprofessional she’s being.

“Oui, Miles?”

“There’s someone at the door.”

She sees the hair before she sees anything else, her eyes soon after focusing on the pink makeup she’s wearing. She smiles despite herself.

“Give me two minutes, guys.” The words are out in English before she can even think about it, but she’s trotting to the door already.

“Trixie!” She greets as soon as she opens it, Trixie’s surprised face meeting hers.

“Oh, hi! You forgot your folder in your hurry this morning.” There’s something to her voice that Katya can’t quite place. “I thought you might need it? I tried texting but you didn’t reply.”

“Fuck, I do need it. Thank you.” Trixie looks a bit out of herself, but as worried as Katya is she has to go back to her classes. It’ll be lunch time soon, probably how Trixie managed to drop by, and she has to finish the chapter before letting them go. “I- we’ll talk later okay?”

Trixie nods, smiles reassuringly, although Katya’s still not a hundred percent convinced she’s fine.

“Love you,” she says before she starts walking away.

“Love you, too,” Katya replies without raising her voice so her students won’t hear, hopes Trixie will.

It’s easier not to wish she’d kissed her when she’s standing in front of her classroom where she wouldn’t anyway, but she’s still bothered by the fact that she couldn’t.

*

That evening she gets home before Trixie and much like every time this happens she scrapes together something quick for dinner, that’ll just need to be heated up when Trixie gets home, and makes sure they have a bottle of wine to share. They do.

Katya didn’t think they’d last this long - that she’d last this long - with the bet and she’s sort of proud and also sort of appalled at the fact that they’re doing it, but now that it looks like she has a chance Katya really wants to win. She’ll do her very best to not show interest to any of Trixie’s attempts from now on, will combust internally while her face remains calm at every trick that Trixie tries to pull, and will hopefully win by tiring Trixie out - she’ll probably get exasperated by Katya’s lack of response and will take matters into her own hands.

At least that’s what Katya hopes, considering that she actually manages to follow through with it, because she hasn’t been good at it a hundred percent of the time. It’s hard not caring about Trixie, she couldn’t it if she tried, but pretending not to care proves to be just as hard.

She just wants to win and she wants to win soon - Trixie needs to cave for the good of Katya’s sanity. So maybe Katya could try a little something together with her fake disinterest, it’s not like lingerie ever killed anyone, right?

She gets the set that she knows is Trixie’s favorite and she thinks it’s fair since Trixie is wearing her favorite red set right now - which she’s trying really hard not to think about, - and she puts it together with the clothes she intends to wear tomorrow. She’ll see who will seduce who in the morning.

Trixie gets home when she’s just finished getting her things ready for the next day and Katya greets her with a small smile before moving over to the kitchen to heat up their food. She pours one glass of wine for each of them and sips hers slowly as she stirs the saucepan. Trixie finds her once she’s changed into more comfortable clothes, far from sexy but seemingly so comfortable and undeniably cute that Katya bites the inside of her cheek so she doesn’t grin and make a comment on it - Trixie will break soon, Katya is confident.

“You okay?” Trixie asks with her glass now in hand too, her ass resting on the sink as she leans on it. She seems concerned and Katya wonders how to reassure her without breaking her façade.

“Yeah, just got a headache,” she lies swiftly which she never does, actually, hates lying to Trixie, but it’s a small white lie that won’t harm anyone.

“Oh. Maybe you should get an advil instead of the wine?” Trixie is already moving to the cabinet to grab their medicine box but Katya denies quickly. She really wants the wine to help her out.

“It’s fine, nothing some rest won’t cure.”

“If you’re sure-”

“Yep.”

“… Alright, then.” Trixie moves back to the living room while Katya finishes, which is unusual because they usually cook together, but Katya is almost done anyway.

This bet is the most stupid thing they have ever done and Katya isn’t sure why she’s trying so hard to win it. But she is.

Over dinner Trixie tells her about the band and how she’s convinced them to change part of the horrible song and that’s good, really, because it truly was awful, and Katya voices those opinions to Trixie enthusiastically, which gets a genuine big smile out of her. Katya smiles back, can’t help herself.

God she’s really bad at this. Alaska was right, she’s too whipped and Trixie knows it.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Trixie offers as she cleans the table. “We’ve established cuddling is fine, so.”

They did, but Katya doesn’t think she could cuddle Trixie again and not break completely. She really, really wants to say yes, but for the sake of winning, for the sake of proving her self-control a bit more, she diverts again.

“Uh, I’d love to but I have some papers to grade. Reschedule?” She’s lying again and she’s mad at herself, but it’s still nothing, right?

Trixie’s eyebrows raise immediately and Katya thinks she’s been caught in the lie. “I thought you’d finished all your grading on Tuesday?”

“Yeah, but I forgot this assignment for one of my classes, gotta have it by tomorrow.” For a last minute thought it seems like a safe excuse.

“Oh.” Trixie doesn’t look convinced but she seems too confused to actually press it. “Ok. Guess I’ll go to bed early.”

It’s a little weird. Katya can tell Trixie is unsure, but she feels she’s already dug herself into this hole and can’t back out - and it’s a little white lie, really, she can “be done with grading” in half an hour and go to bed too.

Trixie’s asleep, though, once she joins her, her back turned to Katya’s side of the bed. She looks peaceful and the lines on her face are really soft and Katya gives in to temptation and presses one tiny kiss to her cheek. It’s not nearly enough for what she wants and it has the opposite effect of what she expected: her resolution to win starts to crumble.

Tomorrow is Friday. In the evening it’ll be exactly one week since they agreed to this bet. One week is objectively a long time, right?

Katya thinks so. She’ll put her efforts into tomorrow, will last this extra day, and that’s it. If Trixie doesn’t break, she will.

Just one more day.

*

Friday morning Katya does really well and she’s extremely proud of herself. She wakes up abruptly a little before her alarm clock and the sight that greets her is Trixie completely naked rummaging through her underwear drawer.

Katya can’t even accuse her of doing it on purpose, she clearly doesn’t notice that Katya is awake as she mutters shit under her breath and continues to search for whatever it is she wants to wear today. Katya takes the chance to look at her, really focus and appreciate it like she hasn’t these past few days.

Katya has a health relationship with sex and she likes to partake in it quite often, but she’s perfectly capable of going periods of time without it, has done so several times in the past. The thing is that Trixie and her have never spent more than three days apart since they started dating and they’d really never gone much more than that without sex. There is truth to what their friends say about them, Katya knows this. And, well, it is also an important factor that they haven’t just not fucked in almost a week but they haven’t even kissed. They’ve definitely never gone more than perhaps two days without kissing or making out a bit and that had been back when they didn’t live together yet. The lack of total contact apart from some innocent cuddling is driving Katya completely insane and she misses Trixie as if she hasn’t seen her in a month.

So she looks at her natural naked figure, none of the sensual attempts from before, and she feels a mix of desire and love tugging deep down in her stomach and she considers briefly if she should just quit right now - which, yes, she did every day this week at least five times. But she’s managed it this far and she’d promised herself she’d take one more day, just one, just to close the week. Just one more day and she’ll quit if Trixie doesn’t.

When Trixie finds what she wanted, Katya shakes herself and averts her gaze, does her best to not show desire in her eyes even if she feels it spreading through her entire body.

“Oh, hey, good morning.” Trixie smiles wide and happily and it’s like she’s not even aware she’s naked.

“Morning,” Katya replies with a small smile and gets up moving quickly to the bathroom with her clothes in hand, doesn’t look at Trixie’s figure again. When she comes out she’s wearing only the lingerie set and Trixie trips a bit on the carpet when she first gets sight of it.

“Oh,” she exclaims as she finishes zipping up her skirt and then she stands there, in skirt and bra only, staring at Katya.

Katya has to physically force her neck to turn to the other side so she won’t look. “What?” She sounds a bit harsh even to her own ears, can feel the restraint she’s summoning weighing on her words, and Trixie just shakes her head.

“Uh-” she starts but then bites her lips and puts on her blouse without saying anything. “Nothing.”

They finish getting ready in silence and Katya leaves with a quick goodbye just like the day before. Trixie’s bewilderment looks a lot more crestfallen today.

Katya wonders if there’s something going on here.

*

After musing the whole day about whether or not she did something that could throw Trixie off and then convincing herself that they’re both playing their cards and she shouldn’t worry, Katya says yes to going out with her coworkers after work without giving it much thought. Trixie and her don’t usually get a lot of time to themselves during the week so it’s rare that either of them will go out after work, opting usually to be together, but today is the last day on Katya’s self-applied limit and she just wants to finish it, to reach the imaginary line she created regarding how long she’d last on this bet.

A day away from Trixie means a not quite complete day, but it also means one last day she can rub in Willam’s face. She might as well push it one last time.

She’s packing her things at the end of the day when she calls Trixie to let her know she won’t be home until later.

“Hey, babe,” Trixie greets once she answers the phone.

“Hey. Just calling to tell you that I’m going out with the teachers, ‘kay?”

“Oh,” Trixie says a little surprised and then she stays quiet for one second too long. “Uh, okay, yeah. Have fun.”

“Thanks. You’ll be al-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. See you later.”

She hangs up after that and that’s unusual, they never really hang up without saying love you. It’s not like Katya needs her to say it, it’s just that they always do and it feels like something is wrong and Trixie perhaps is a little off. Maybe Katya did do something and going out now is only aggravating things? That can’t be, though, as they always tell each other when there’s something wrong and also Trixie has never minded her going out and having fun, they’ve always been extremely trusting and easygoing.

She’s pulled out of her thoughts by Shangela calling her and she goes to meet everyone at the exit, tries to push her worries to the back of her mind. Katya is probably overreacting. She didn’t think a few days would have this much effect, but it probably is just her brain playing tricks on her because of the withdrawal.

Just a few more hours. She’ll go out and have fun and not think about Trixie, and then she’ll go home, knowing it’s been one exact week, and she’s gonna grab Trixie and kiss her with everything she has and they’ll hopefully rip each others clothes off, no matter where in the house they are. Then she’ll be able to go to Willam the following day and tell her that for an entire week she wasn’t exactly as Willam had once put it - a horny desperate adult addicted to her girlfriend.

The evening goes smoothly, she likes the other teachers and she always has a good time with them and tomorrow is the weekend so she indulges herself in one too many drinks. She gets home a bit later than she planned and she’s maybe a bit tipsier than planned.

She goes to grab some water before heading to bed, will pop an advil today and have one ready for next morning, and when she opens the fridge her eyes are drawn to a container wrapped in tin foil. She curiously peeks inside and half a medium lasagna from Katya’s favorite restaurant sits inside. Her heart falls to her stomach at the sight. Trixie had probably decided to treat them both to a nice dinner before Katya told her she’d go out.

She quickly grabs her water and moves to the bedroom, but Trixie is already sleeping when she enters. Trixie is a heavy sleeper, but Katya slows down so she doesn’t make any noise and also gets ready for bed in the dark.

Tomorrow she’ll apologize - not that she could have known, it’s not even like she’d done anything wrong, but she feels sorry and bad and she wants Trixie to know. The way Trixie spoke on the phone earlier indicates that perhaps she had been upset and Katya can’t wait to fix whatever it is that’s wrong.

She goes to sleep with her arm over Trixie’s waist and her head ridiculously close to the back of her neck. There’s a nagging feeling of discomfort at the back of her head and it doesn’t disappear as sleep wins over her.

*

Katya wakes up to an empty bed and the feeling at the back of her head from the day before now spread everywhere, including particularly her heart. They got themselves into a very stupid and avoidable situation and Katya still isn’t sure as to why they did that.

Katya thinks for a second about the whole week and she absolutely despises the fact that during this time she’s gotten used to not touching Trixie. The want to do so is still there, obviously, strong as ever - maybe more, even - but the unconscious impulse is gone. She sees her and she consciously wants to kiss and hug her, her heart still tugs a tiny bit at the mere sight of her just existing in their place, but she doesn’t instinctively start moving her way, ready to do so.

She loves Trixie and she still wants Trixie, but she’s somehow fallen out of the habit of going for it.

She’s filled with anger in a second, outraged with herself for letting it get to this point where she’s making herself miserable for no reason at all - and Trixie too. She jumps out of bed and moves quickly through the apartment, searching for Trixie and she finds her drying her hands near the sink in the kitchen, makes a loud noise when she slams the door open.

Fuck Willam.

“Katya-” Trixie starts saying with a hand placed over her heart, possibly beating faster due to the scare, but Katya is done, she’s done with the stupid bet and with just being horribly miserable because she somehow thought she had to prove Willam wrong, as if that’s more important than her and Trixie’s happiness.

She walks in long strides and it makes Trixie not say anything after her name, which she clearly had intended to, and just look at her with her eyes getting wider and more confused. When Katya reaches her she places both her hands on the sides of Trixie’s face and kisses her, strong and hard and desperate, like it’s been years she hasn’t instead of just a few days.

Trixie gasps in surprise but it takes her no time at all to just kiss back and wrap her arms around Katya’s back, her whole figure relaxing against Katya’s body as they finally, finally fit against each other exactly like Katya loves.

God, Katya’s missed her. She thought about kissing Trixie all of the time during this week and yet it’s like her body had forgotten how it felt because this is a whole other level of wow. She tries to pull Trixie closer only to realize Trixie’s already pressing the two of them together as much as possible and Katya actually parts their lips for one second to breathe and make an offended noise because it’s still not enough.

“Bedroom,” Katya murmurs raspily and moves away from Trixie to grab both her hands and walk backwards, pulling Trixie with her. Trixie’s eyes are still wide as if she isn’t sure of what’s happening and against every muscle in her body Katya stops midway into the living room. “You okay?” Katya doesn’t think she’s ever been that desperate but maybe these days have affected Trixie differently than her and she’s not particularly interested in sex right now. Katya will respect her, if that’s the case, even though she’ll most definitely need to understand why.

That seems to pull Trixie out of her thoughts though, her feet starting again and her arms sort of pushing Katya so that she’s walking again. “Yes, oh my god, yes. Bedroom.” She nods as if she agrees with how Katya had suggested it and they stumble together into the room, Katya’s hip hitting the chair in front of their vanity on their way in.

“Ouch,” she exclaims as she moves her hand to her side before even thinking, it stings more than it should and yet Katya is determined to not let it ruin the mood. “Nevermind, get naked.”

Trixie, though, looks uncertain again, now her eyes are worried. “You sure? You hit it pretty hard, it’ll leave a huge bruise.”

Katya shrugs while pulling her closer. “Nothing we can do about that now, so whatever.”

She kisses Trixie again, can’t help it when their mouths are so close and they can do it and for the second time that morning she wonders why the fuck she let Willam talk them into this because it was insane and horrible and Katya will never again go as much as one single day without kissing Trixie.

“Katya-” Trixie tries again against her lips and Katya pulls away when she notices that the uncertainty is still there in Trixie’s voice. She doesn’t know why it’s there but it’s starting to worry her - it reminds her that Trixie had been off last night and last morning and maybe, against all of her instincts, they should talk first.

“You sure you’re okay, Trix? We don’t have to do this.”  She motions her head to the bed but she also means whatever other type of intimacy and touching. “I’m not trying to push you, you can say no to anything if you don’t want to do it. You know that, right?” Trixie should know it because that’s always how they are, perfectly comfortable with just changing their minds, but Trixie is never quite like this and it makes Katya wonder.

“God, no-” she sounds as if there’s more to what she’s saying, but no other words leave her mouth.

Katya gets closer again, slower this time, and just cups her face onto her right hand as her left one rests on her hips, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Hey, babe, it’s okay. What’s going on?”

Trixie almost looks sad and Katya’s heart is pounding.

“I want to, of course I do.” Trixie snorts a bit, moving her hands to Katya’s back, apparently involuntarily. “I just thought you didn’t.” She murmurs and places her emphasis on the you and it stuns Katya. Out of all of the things she thought she would hear, that is definitely not one of them.

“What?”

“I don’t know, you’ve been acting so weird these past couple of days. You barely smiled and I’d tell jokes and you wouldn’t even acknowledge it. Heck, you barely looked at me most of the time.”

She shrugs as if she’s trying to be nonchalant about it but all in all Katya is pretty sure she’s never been more shocked in her entire life.

“Trixie, oh my god, no. This is- goddammit, why do I let our friends ruin our lives?” Trixie makes a confused face at that. “I told Alaska about the bet and she gave me unsolicited advice and I just thought there was no harm- fuck, you have no idea how hard I had to try to act like that. I seriously haven’t thought about anything that isn’t you for a week straight.”

Trixie seems legitimately shocked at this as if the only possibility that had gone through her head was seriously the one where Katya just didn’t want her.

How would she ever? She wants Trixie for the rest of her life. She never wanted anything remotely like that before, but with Trixie she’s always known it.

“I got really mad at Willam for making you realize you didn’t want to date me anymore.” Trixie confesses shyly, plucks her bottom lip between her teeth.

Katya shakes her head and even though it’s probably insensitive she can’t help a breathy laugh from escaping her lips. She once again grabs Trixie’s face and kisses her strongly, but this time it’s just a peck, a strong one that makes a pop noise when they break apart.

“I love you,” she opts for saying. She was gonna say something more joky, maybe even teasing, but she’s never seen Trixie doubtful of their relationship before and  she hates it, despite the ridiculousness of the situation. “I love you and I always, always want you, okay?”

Trixie nods and smiles lightly, she moves her hands to cover Katya’s still holding her face.

“I love you, too.”

And then Katya is kissing her again and she’s kissing back and Katya wants to ask her just one more time if she’s certain, but then Trixie’s hands find the hem of her shirt and tug it upwards desperately and Katya knows she’s sure - now Katya just wants to be naked and to get Trixie naked and to make up for all for all of the time they wasted on this stupid bet.

“You realize it’s been one week and we’re acting as if we’ve been oceans apart for a whole year, right?” Trixie asks while Katya is removing her pajama shorts with desperate fingers.

“Well, I was gonna eat you out first, but if you’re not in a hurry maybe we can skip that?” Katya teases even though her hands are leading Trixie to the bed and throwing her there.

She giggles and much like every time she does so it fills Katya’s heart with warmth and this time she can actually kiss her so she throws herself on top of her and does.

“You are so cute,” she compliments as her lips move down to her neck, both of them wearing only their panties now as they’d been pretty much only in sleeping clothes before.

“That’s exactly what a girl wants to hear before fucking. Cute.”

Katya rearranges herself so that she’s sitting on top Trixie’s thighs and she grins at her, her hands roaming all over her skin.

“You are cute, beautiful, sexy, hot and everything else you can think of and I am so glad you’re with me and I get to do all of this.” She flicks her fingers over one of her nipples as she speaks and Trixie gasps. “You’re perfect and I missed you.”

Trixie looks like she’s about to tease again, but she forgoes that to capture her lips one more time. “Me too, babe.”

It’s almost like a physical fight of who will touch who first because Katya can’t keep her lips on her clavicle for more than a few seconds before Trixie is leaning forward and breaking that contact so that she gets to explore Katya’s skin with her lips.

Everything in Katya aches with desire for Trixie, her nipples are painfully hard as Trixie manages to dip her back and close her mouth over them, alternating way too fast as if she can’t decide which one she wants to pay attention to.

Katya faintly remembers Alaska saying that at least the sex would be great and she’d been right. She doesn’t think she’s ever been this desperate this fast before and it’s making for great foreplay when they don’t seem particularly patient enough for that.

Trixie moves her lips up to her again and Katya takes this chance to slide up on her legs until their torsos are practically touching and their nipples are deliciously rubbing against each other. She grabs Trixie’s face again and kisses her strong and hard one more time, her body quaking with want as she pulses in her soaked panties right next to Trixie’s, which are probably the very same way.

“I want to eat you out,” she murmurs when they break apart, and only when she finishes speaking she notices that Trixie said literally the same thing to her.

They blink twice before bursting out in laughter and for some reason that only gets Katya even more turned on - their intimacy is something that she’ll never take for granted, she loves theses moments more than anything.

“I’m already on top, lay down and let me go down on you.”

Trixie lays down with a heavy fake sigh. “I mean, alright, I guess.”

Katya laughs and slaps her thigh after pulling her panties off. “Stop being a brat.”

“Look-” Katya doesn’t give her time to finish whatever banter she was about to start because there are more important matters at hand, such as tending to the soaking woman below her, so she wastes no time in fitting her mouth around her clit and sucking it. “Fuck,” Trixie gasps instead.

Usually when they have sex they’re both terrible people that drag it all out for as long as possible and are always arguing about who can last longer - and maybe Katya can see why they took the bet in the first place - but for her part Katya knows that there’s no way she’d manage being teased today and she can see that Trixie is in absolutely no position either. She could try to stretch this out but she’s aching with need and Trixie is so incredibly wet and they need this right now, fast. Maybe afterwards they’ll both be in a state to do this for real but right now she wants to get Trixie off for the first time in a week and she wants it to be a shuddering orgasm, so she doesn’t stop.

She uses her tongue to circle her entrance a few times before dragging her wetness to her clit. She focuses on licking it for a while, wants to get Trixie close to the edge without tipping her over, and then she moves her hand from her thigh and teases just for a second with one finger before fucking her slowly with one, then two, then three. Trixie makes a muffled sound and when Katya looks up briefly she has one hand lying useless on her stomach and the other in between her teeth.

Katya wants to tell her to quit it and just make the noise that she so wants to hear, but as she goes back to tending to her clit as her fingers continue in and out at a slow pace even her hand can’t fully stop Trixie from moaning and the sound is so sexy it travels through Katya’s entire body like an electric wave.

Trixie then moves the hand that’s currently free to Katya’s head and pushes her in a little bit. “Katya, please.”

Katya knows she needs to come, she’s gaping and contracting around Katya’s fingers and her clit is so swollen - Katya doesn’t think she’s ever seen her like this and she’s sure she must be the same. So she does as Trixie needs, goes back to properly licking and sucking on her clit, and she curves and speeds up her fingers, and she even toys with her own coordination to move her forgotten left hand up and try to reach one of her nipples. She manages, ish, but Trixie moans loudly and grabs strongly at her hair and her breathing becomes more and more rapid as she contracts tighter and tighter around Katya’s fingers. One second later and she’s coming, her back arching off the bed and her legs trembling and Katya’s name brokenly falling out of her lips repeatedly.

Katya can’t believe this but she has to forcefully constrain herself and close her eyes to force herself not to come just from that. She’s so aroused right now that she’s sure that one touch of Trixie’s fingers will tip her over.

She removes her underwear and moves over her body, careful not to rub against Trixie because she’s definitely way too sensitive for that, but she does drape herself over Trixie to kiss her open mouth.

“That was intense, huh?” She asks smugly but Trixie is so out of breath she doesn’t even notice.

“Hm. Who could’ve known that abstinence would have this effect?”

Katya laughs and then sort of jumps when Trixie accidentally rubs over her nipple. Goodness, she’s so horny right now.

“Please get me off, Trix,” she begs against her mouth and Trixie is the one laughing now. She taps at Katya’s hips so she’ll get off her and once she’s the one lying down on the bed, Trixie mimics her position in between her legs.

“How long is this gonna take, Katya?” Trixie’s running her hands up and down Katya’s thighs as she drips down on the bed. Katya knows that she never makes needy sounds like she’s doing right now and that’s probably why Trixie is dragging this out. She really can’t handle this at the moment.

“Oh, five, tops.”

“Minutes?” Trixie asks amusedly with her eyebrows raised.

“Seconds.”

Trixie laughs loudly before finally settling down in between her legs and spreading them just a little bit more because she knows Katya can.

Unlike Katya, Trixie pays no attention to her clit when she starts and Katya partially wants to die, but she also knows it’s a smart choice because she really is right on edge and she doesn’t trust herself to hold out.

Not that she wants to. She’s not interested in bets and competitions right now and she couldn’t care less about lasting more than Trixie at this moment, she truly just needs to come.

Trixie knows her like the back of her hand and so to not let it unattended she uses her fingers around her clit as she fucks her steadily with her tongue. It’s not enough but it’s a sweet kind of pressure and it drives her even more insane than before, which she absolutely did not think was possible.

“Trix, baby, I can’t-” And she really can’t, she really needs to come, she almost feels like crying a bit, but thankfully Trixie knows her and gets the message - it’s no time for stretching this out. She removes both her fingers and her tongue and for one second Katya feels like she’s gonna explode without any contact, but Trixie merely changes positions and swiftly inserts two fingers milliseconds before using her tongue on her clit and just as she knew she would, Katya comes immediately, shouts Trixie’s name only once, but terribly loud for a Saturday morning and her entire body shudders before she goes slack against the sheets.

Trixie goes up her body, leaving faint kisses everywhere until she reaches her mouth and then kisses her softly. Katya circles her waist, pulls her against her and now that she’s no longer combusting the feeling of their naked skin touching is the most wonderful thing in the world.

“You were selling yourself short, that was at least ten seconds.”

Katya giggles against her and they rearrange themselves in the sweat covered sheets so they’re somewhat more comfortable - as much as possible.

“I can’t believe we willingly said yeah we’re gonna go a week without doing that for no good reason at all and with zero rewards at the end of the line.”

“I can’t believe you ignored me to win this rewardless bet,” Trixie accuses jokingly.

Katya still feels bad though, so she’s sincere when she apologizes. “I’m sorry about that. And thanks for the lasagna, I’m so mad I didn’t come home yesterday.”

Trixie just rolls her eyes. “Shut up, it’s just a lasagna.”

“Still-”

“Hey,” Trixie cuts her with a serious face. “We just spent seven days without kissing to prove our friends wrong and then we had some of the best sex to make up for it and - oh, we are definitely adopting a cat now by the way, so whatever.”

Katya smirks. “You think this is the best sex we’ve ever had? That’s literally not fair to all of the effort I always put into teasing you-”

“I said some of the best-”

“Still, we can do better than this.”

“Hm?” Trixie raises her eyebrows, her eyes are sparkling. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely. I need a coffee and some oatmeal and then we’re back to bed.”

“And what about the cat?”

“We’re not bringing a cat into bed, Trixie, that’s so wro-”

Trixie slaps her arm and they both laugh. “No, asshole. How do you feel about adopting one? I wanted to bring it up again that day but you seemed so off.”

“I know, I’m sor-”

“Apologize one more time and we’ll go another week without sex.”

Katya shuts her mouth into a straight line and surrenders with her free arm. “Alright, geez. How about Bet?”

“You want another bet?” She looks at her as if she’s grown another head.

“No, for the cat. We’ll name them Bet.”

Trixie blinks twice. “You want to name our cat Bet?”

“It’s fitting!”

“Oh my god-”

They’re back to laughing and bantering as they get up and put on some clothes to go and make coffee, and just like that it’s all good and easy again, Katya kisses her all the way through to the kitchen just because she can and she eyes her constantly also just because she can.

On their way back to the bedroom Trixie picks up her phone on the dining table and texts Willam.

Trixie: we’re done

It takes no time for her to reply.

Willam: yeah? Who won?

Trixie looks up at Katya who’s rolling her eyes already because of course she lost, she knew she would, but then Trixie pecks her loudly and grins.

Trixie: we both did

(Obviously Katya later finds she texted Willam saying she won. She didn’t expect anything else.)

[truthofherdreams]

softest hearts (#2)

also on ao3

“Harvey, would you be a dear and grab those jars?”

Harvey immediately stands up from his seat at the kitchen table, textbooks and papers scattered all over it, to help Aunt Hilda with her jam making. He barely has to rise on his tiptoes to grab said jars, and delicately put them down on the kitchen counter with a smile toward Aunt Hilda.

She replies in kind, and squeezes his chin between two fingers. “It’s so nice having someone tall to help around the house.”

“Hey, I’m tall!” Ambrose protests. He sits in a corner, feet on a side table as he peels an apple with a blunt knife.

“Tall and willing to help.”

He points the knife at Hilda with a wink. “You got me there.”

Harvey snorts a laugh even as he grabs another set of jars, then closes the cupboard’s door. He shares an amused glance with Sabrina, before she focuses back on her history homework. The essay is due next week, but it’s never a bad thing to wrap things up early.

She does keep an eye of Harvey though, a habit grown during the past year and a half of him living with the Spellmans. Her aunts got a lot better very quickly at adapting their language in front of him, but one is never too far from the eventual slip up.

“Thank you for you help, by the way,” Harvey grins down at Aunt Hilda. “Got a A+ on my essay about Emily Bronte!”

“Oh my dear, that’s wonderful!”

“What is?”

Aunt Zelda appears from downstairs, Sabrina and Harvey pulling twin grimaces of disgust at the apron and matching gloves she still wears. She rips one off her hand and makes for grabbing a cigarette, before she glances at Harvey and thinks better of it.

“Got a good grade on my essay about Bronte,” Harvey explains.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Aunt Hilda adds.

Aunt Zelda makes a face. “Bronte? That righteous bi–brilliant author. Great. Well done.”

Ambrose crunches on his apple to muffle his chuckle, while Sabrina finds her history essay suddenly more fascinating than it was a mere ten seconds ago. Motherhood and appreciation have never come easy to Zelda, but it is particularly obvious every time she interacts with Harvey. She is trying, which is more than anyone else was expecting at first, but it always comes out as cold and distant. Thankfully Harvey doesn’t notice, or care all that much. Or perhaps he’s too polite to point out Zelda’s behaviour toward him, too grateful the woman took him in to be picky about the way she doesn’t seem to warm up to him.

Or maybe he’s even more pure than Sabrina believes, because he sits back at the table, by her side, with a proud smile. When she raises an eyebrow to him in a silent question, he leans forward as to whisper, “She gave me a compliment!”

Sabrina’s heart melts, just a little.

…

Freshman year only serves to highlight how unconventional Sabrina’s friendship with Harvey is – if one could even use such a word to describe what transpires between the two of them. If nobody was really caring about the situation when they were in middle school, accepting Harvey’s presence in the Spellmans’ household without much questioning, high school is an entire story altogether.

It was to be expected, of course. Teenagers are nosy creatures, running on gossip and juicy stories, and theirs is offered on a silver platter. The two of them arriving at school and leaving together, always sitting next to each other at lunch, sharing some AP classes and group projects. Even Susie and Roz as buffers in their group of friends doesn’t change one simple fact: a boy and a girl live together, and it’s making people talk.

Sabrina stops counting the number of times other girls come and ask her if they have a shot at asking Harvey out, if he’s taken, if they are dating. Sabrina denies everything, as it is the truth. Harvey never asked her out, or even showed any kind of interest in her, at home or otherwise. He is her best friend, and it’s fair game for other girls to be flirty at him and try their luck.

She wouldn’t be upset if he started dating another girl.

Nope. Not at all. She’d be fine.

Really.

Which makes David Anderson asking her out for the Winter Wonderland all the more surprising, because Sabrina was so focused on the idea of Amelia Cooper asking Harvey that. Well. It didn’t even cross her mind that anyone could or would be asking her.

It leaves her staring at David, mouth agape despite no sound coming out of it as she fails to find a way out of the situation. She doesn’t like David – hell, she doesn’t even know him – and she’s planned on going with Susie and Roz as friends anyway. No pressure of not finding a date, just a fun night out with her friends and a pretty dress.

“Huh – I – I mean,” she stammers.

Nobody ever told her how to reject a boy, mainly because Zelda is above that, Hilda is not the biggest catch, and Ambrose would never reject anyone. She has no idea what to do in that situation. How to react. What to say.

“Hey Brina,” comes Harvey’s voice by her side, his arm solid as it wraps around her shoulders. “We still on for a study session at Cerberus tonight?”

David’s eyes travel between her and Harvey several time, and she wonders what he sees. What so many people see when Harvey casual hangs out next to her locker or walks her to class even if his room is halfway across the building, or gets the last bag of vinegar chips because they’re her favourites. Everything that she dismisses as Harvey just being a good friend, but can be interpreted so differently.

“Spanish test tomorrow, remember?” Harvey adds when she doesn’t answer. Then, as if only now noticing she isn’t alone, “Hey Anderson, what’s up?”

It’s David’s turn to stammer a little. “Huh – not much – meeting with Mr Peterson in a bit, better keep going.”

He doesn’t quite run away, but it’s a close thing. Sabrina waits until he’s disappeared around the corner to slap Harvey’s chest as hard as she can with the back of her hand. He finally lets go of her, if only to rub the spot theatrically.

“What was that for?”

“You know why!”

“I really don’t!”

And she believes him, almost. Perhaps it’s easier if she believes him, if she convinces herself that Harvey really doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing or the message he sends other boys when he stands too close to her, when he looks at her with his kind, sad eyes, when he leans as close as possible to whisper a joke in her ear. Maybe he doesn’t know, for real.

Except.

Except there’s the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

It sends her heart racing.

…

“We need Harvey out of the house.”

Zelda’s statement is met by stunned silence from the other three Spellmans. Not even Hilda, Harvey’s number one supporter in the house, seems to be able to come to the boy’s defense.

It is only after long seconds of lack of reaction that Zelda looks up from the cigarette she’s lighting, only to meet three wide pairs of eyes.

“Oh, will you quit it already! The High Priest is coming for dinner on Saturday, and the boy can’t be here, is all.”

Sabrina deflates like a balloon as she lets out a long sigh, and it’s as if everyone in the room is breathing properly again. Some of the tension remains – as always when the High Priest is involved or mentionned – but it is not as awkward as a few seconds ago.

“You need to stop doing that, Aunt Z,” Ambrose comments.

“As if I would get rid of the boy! He’s the only one standing between us and those dreadful Mormons.”

Sabrina can’t help but snort, just a little. For years now a pair of Mormons have been visiting them, showing up out of nowhere every two months like clockwork. Despite Zelda’s – and Ambrose’s – best effort, they never ran away or were put off by the Spellman household.

And then Harvey decided on a new tactic. They couldn’t open their mouth to deliver their well-rehearsed speech without him singing something out of the musical that was inspired by their religion, louder than them. They would quiet down and so would he, only to start singing again every time they opened their mouth.

It’s been over eight months now and they are yet to show their faces again. Even Zelda was silently impressed.

“But why is the High Priest visiting us, sister?” Hilda asks.

Sabrina points in her direction with a nod of the head, a silent agreement to her aunt’s question. As far as she remembers, she’s only ever met the High Priest once a year, during the Feast of Feasts. He never bothers visiting, especially not the Spellmans. There is a reason why they are not active in the coven’s social life, after all. For him to visit is a pretty big deal.

Zelda sighs as she sits at her end of the kitchen table, before she takes a long drag of her cigarette.

“Sabrina’s Dark Baptism is almost a year away, as we all know. He wants to make sure her education is not lacking, despite her not attending the Academy, so that she will not fall behind once her sixteenth birthday has come. It’s nothing more than a homeschool check, really.” Another drag of her cigarette, before she looks at Sabrina. “I want you to work on your spells as much as possible until Saturday evening, so that you will not put us to shame. And we need Harvey out of the house, obviously. We can’t have the High Priest question why we are keeping a human pet.”

Ambrose hides his snort of laughter behind a magazine, while Sabrina doesn’t quite manage to hide her own expression of surprise. But it is, as often, Hilda who replies to her sister. “Once again, he’s a guest, not a pet,” she singsongs.

“We feed him and house him without expecting anything in return. The three of you even show affection to him. That’s a pet.”

Sabrina can’t help but turn toward her cousin, a faux air of outrage on her face as she folds her arms on her chest. “You show affection to him?” she accuses him, while her aunts are busy with a bickering of their own beside her.

Ambrose inspects his nails carefully, theatrically pretending to be nonchalant about it. “Well, I’m only taking care of him because you aren’t.”

Her gasp of indignation isn’t so fake this time. Ambrose challenges her with a raise of his eyebrows, tongue poking between his teeth. It doesn’t take much more for Sabrina to throw herself at him with a growl. He’s faster of course, running away from her with a laugh that only grows louder when she runs after him; first through the living room, them up the stairs to his bedroom.

She chases him around the room before he dashes away and starts pouncing on Harvey’s door. It’s only a few seconds before Harvey opens, headphones still on his ears and an expression of surprise on his face when Ambrose throws himself behind him with a loud “Save me!”

Harvey is such a good sport, Sabrina will give him that, as he puts his hands on each side of the doorframe to prevent her from entering his bedroom, an easy smile on his lips. It clashes painfully with Ambrose’s own smirk of victory, which makes the sight in front of her all the more entertaining.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t stop you.”

Oh, she has so many.

But only a handful she can say out loud without dying of embarrassment, looking at Harvey in the eyes, with Ambrose watching. In the end, she settles on a happy middle, stepping closer to Harvey with a sweet smile. His eyes drop to her lips, just for a second, and he swallows; Sabrina’s own heart beats faster in reply.

“I’ll buy you fries at the cafeteria tomorrow.”

He hesitates.

Just for a second.

“Yeah, he’s all yours,” he announces as he steps aside.

Ambrose is so offended Sabrina has to laugh. “Traitor!” he throws at Harvey, before he pushes past Sabrina and runs away. She entertains the idea to run after him once more, only for a few seconds, before she gives up and instead leans against Harvey’s door frame.

He grins at her, that cute dopey smile that never fails to make her light-headed. Sometimes she wonders, if he knows how deadly that smile is, if he’s aware of the effect he has on her by just before so soft all the time. She’s never understood Hollywood’s thing with bad boys, when boys like Harvey can melt her heart in an instant.

“What was that even about?” he asks.

It takes Sabrina a few seconds to remember what even started it all, until Ambrose’s words of silliness come back to her mind. She shrugs then, both because it is not that important all things considered, and because there is no way she could explain Harvey. “Doesn’t matter, really.” Then, looking over his shoulder, “What are you working on?”

He’s been gathering quite the collection of art supplies through the past few months, all of them piling up on his desk. He’s got some drawings on the walls as well as in folders, character designs and landscape sketches and quick doodles of a hand, a flurry of fabric, a light reflection. Sabrina didn’t know someone could have so much talent, until Harvey started showing her his notebooks.

“Oh, just cleaning some designs, really,” he tells her as he moves closer to his desk. Sabrina follows him in, closing the door behind her as a second thought, wave of the hand behind her back. Zelda did tell her to practice, after all. “I need to practice with ink a little bit more, my shading isn’t quite there yet.”

“It looks amazing,” she breathes out.

It really does, the drawing of a werewolf almost jumping at you out of the page. The details of the fur, and the teeth, really are what is catching Sabrina’s attention. And maybe she should worry, that he watches so many horror movies with Ambrose and always draws about monsters, vampires and other supernatural themes. But it all looks too great to question.

“You think so?”

“Yes, of course!”

He grins once more, bumping his shoulder against her to hide how awkward he is every time she pays him a compliment. Aunt Zelda explained it to her once, that it’s normal for people who grew up in difficult environment to accept compliments, because all they expect is criticism, and it broke Sabrina’s heart. She doesn’t know how to make it clear to Harvey, how amazing she thinks he is.

“Maybe you should do a portrait of me,” she teases instead.

He snorts, a little louder than usual. “Yeah, no.”

She turns toward him, and has to look up to meet his eyes, even as he looks away. “And why’s that?”

He’s blushing now, red high on his cheeks and the tip of his ears, still refusing to look at her. “Because it’s harder, when the model is pretty. More chances to mess it up.”

It takes Sabrina a few seconds to really understand what he means, before she’s blushing furiously too. In all of her years of being friend with Harvey, and the past few months of seeing him as potentially-more-than-friends, she doesn’t remember a single instance of a compliment that was casual but flirty, no theatrics, no joke to cover it under. Just a compliment, raw and heartfelt.

She’s the one to look away then, under the pretence of shuffling some of the papers around so she can look at his other drawings. Her ears play tricks on her, because she swears Harvey sighs a little before he takes a step back, then another until he sits on his bed. She still won’t look at him, not until her face isn’t on fire anymore and her heart doesn’t race like she just ran a marathon.

“Hey so, fun fact,” Harvey breaks the silence between them after a couple of minutes. “Dr Cee is going to his comics convention this weekend, and he wants me to come with him.”

Dr Cerberus is the reason why Harvey started drawing so much. Hours spent at the bookstore, reading comics and sipping milkshakes, have made Harvey quite friendly with the quirky owner. Dr Cee even promised Harvey a part-time job, once he will be old enough, and told him he would gladly see some sketches ideas for new posters around the store.

He’s also, though unknowingly, the perfect excuse for Sabrina to have Harvey out.

“Oh, you should definitely go!” she exclaims, finally turning to face him.

Harvey seems taken aback by her sudden burst of cheerfulness, not that she can blame him for it. It’s quite the whiplash from a few seconds ago.

“You think?”

“Definitely.” She goes to sit next to him, one leg under her so she can face him, close without being intimate. “You could even take a few drawings with you to show around. Didn’t you say you wanted to go to art school?”

“I mean, yeah, but like when you say you want to be an astronaut. It would be cool, but it’s not entirely doable.”

“Why not? You’re talented and hard-working, and you want it so badly. You can do whatever you want.”

The sky is his limit, whereas Sabrina’s path was chosen for her before she was even born. A few years of human high school, followed by a witchy diploma at the Academy, followed by years in the coven where everyone says she belongs. No choice but to follow in her father’s footsteps, to hide in the shadow of his greatness.

She envies Harvey’s freedom to do as he wants, to have the liberty to make mistakes and try again. As the daughter of Edward Spellman, she will never be granted that chance.

“Maybe you’re right,” Harvey says after a while. “Will you help me pick my best drawings?”

“Sure!” she beams. “How about some tea to get us started?”

He nods, before he grabs one of his folders, and Sabrina takes it as her cue to go downstairs. Only Aunt Zelda is in the kitchen, smoking and reading a book. If she listens carefully, she can hear Hilda in the living room and Ambrose downstairs, tending to their latest client.

She grabs a couple of mugs, dropping twin bags of tea in the before she turns the kettle on. No need to look behind her shoulder to feel the weight of Zelda’s stare on her.

“He’ll be gone, don’t worry.”

“Good,” is all her aunt’s answer.

…

Sabrina wants the record to state that she doesn’t have a date for the Winter Wonderland. Susie, Roz, Harvey and she all agreed to go together, as friends. It just so happens that Harvey and she arrived together because, well, they do live together so it wouldn’t be logical for them to arrive at different times. And she dances with all three of them; sometimes together as a group, screaming the lyrics of an old song or messing a choreography so badly from laughing too much. Roz forces her into a duet when an old Beyoncé song starts playing, and she spends some quality time with Susie in a corner, since Susie doesn’t like dancing all that much.

If she so happens to dance a couple of songs with Harvey too, well.

They did come together. As a group. As friends.

It’s not weird for friends to have fun together, right? It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything, and it’s not as if other guys are lining up to ask her to dance, or other girls are taking Harvey aside to flirt with him. Everyone else is busy doing their own thing, which is fine. Sabrina only needs her group of friends to enjoy herself anyway.

And then the Bruno Mars song she was dancing to with Harvey turns into a slow balad by Adele, and she isn’t so certain anymore. Harvey’s arms fall back at his sides, before he swings them back and forth then clasps his hands in front of him with a little pout.

Sabrina is certain he’s trying to find a polite way out, which makes it all the more surprising when he softly asks, “Wanna dance, Brina?”

Her smile splits up her face, so much so that she can only nod in reply as she takes a step closer to him. One of her hands hands on his shoulder, while he puts his on her hips, and for a moment she’s thrown off-balance by the unfamiliarity of this all. But then he’s pulling her closer, and her other hand find the back of his neck as they sway to the music.

She presses her cheek against his collarbone, eye closing, a sigh on her lips. This is nice. Better than nice, even, because Harvey is warm and solid against her, his hands anchoring her to the here and there. In his arms, she can almost forget the High Priest wants her to start at the Academy in January, a good nine months before her Dark Baptism.

They want her to start her education as early as possible, to put her on the path to greatness, but Sabrina isn’t ready to say goodbye to her human life yet. Her high school, her friends, her teachers. Harvey. They are yet to discuss what will happen to him, once she no longer goes to Baxter High. Once they will no longer be able to hide the truth from him.

“This is nice,” she whispers.

She isn’t sure he heard her, but then he’s pulling her closer, arms crossed against her back, so maybe he did. Maybe he’s feeling the same. Maybe this is it, finally.

The song ends with fading notes on a piano, replacing by something equally soft and romantic that Sabrina doesn’t recognise. She doesn’t care, not when Harvey is still holding her close, his cheek pressed against the top of her head and his heart beating against her ear. She wants to stay in that moment forever, him and her and beautiful music. Nothing else.

“Do you want to go home?” he asks her when a third song comes to an end and they still haven’t stopped.

She looks up at him, soft smile and even softer eyes, a look of wonder on his face. His hand moves up to cup her face, his thumb barely more than a caress on her cheek. He doesn’t do anything else, anything more, so she nods her approval and lets him guide her outside the school’s gym hall.

She catches Susie’s eyes on the way out, her friend brandishing two happy thumbs up at her before she disappears into the crowd. Everything is silent and cold outside, winter settling in on Greendale. Harvey shrugs off his jacket, so he can put it on her shoulders, keeping his arm here too so he can pull her against him.

That’s how they make their way back home, walking side by side and sharing body heat, Harvey pointing constellations out at her and telling her what they mean. The icy ground scrunches under their feet, an owl hooting quietly in the background. Peaceful. Perfect.

Finally making it home is a bit of a relief, if only because the warmth of inside bites at her cold cheeks and brings some life back to her legs. Harvey tells her to go and change, that he will be up with hot chocolates in five minutes, so she does just that.

Runs to her room and wipes the makeup off her face, slips off her dress and puts on warm, comfortable PJs instead. She’s waiting for Harvey by the door, which makes it all the more surprising when there is a knock on her window.

They figured out quickly enough that they could sneak through their windows to sit on the roof together, and have done so multiple times since Harvey moved in. Mostly at night, when one of them is kept awake by nightmares and needs company. A knock at the window when he dreams of his father, when her nights are nothing but blood and ash, and here they are. Comfort in the dead of the night.

Here he is tonight, twin mugs of hot chocolate in one hand as he helps her out the window and onto the roof. He waits until she’s seated to do the same, and to hand her the drink. The burning mug is soothing against her cold fingers, and she scoots closer to Harvey so he will keep her warm.

“Tonight was fun,” she comments softly.

“Yeah, it was nice.” He pauses, then, “We should do it more often.”

“Have fun? Damn, Harvey, and here I thought we had fun all the time.”

His chuckle is low and awkward, and he looks away from her. There is another moment of silence, before he squares his shoulders against her, as if preparing himself for battle. An intake of breath, before he says, “No, I mean. Dancing. Going out. We should do – do that again. Together if – if you want.”

Her cheeks might hurt from smiling too much, her heart painful where it drums against her ribcage. She can barely speaks through her grin when she asks, “Are you asking me out?”

He still won’t look at her, this gentle, beautiful, awkward boy. “May–maybe? I know it’s not – like that between us and – you can definitely say no but – you know…”

“Yes,” she whispers. His head turns so fast she’s afraid he hurt himself, his eyes so wide it makes her laugh. “Yes, Harvey, I’ll go out with you.”

“For… for real?”

She’s really laughing now, one of her hand letting go of the mug so she can cup his face, angle it so he will look into her eyes. There is more incredule wonder than anything else on his features, which makes the situation all the more delightfully ridiculous. Here she was, thinking Harvey would never look at her in a romantic light, unaware that he thought the exact same thing about her.

Here they are now, on the precipice of something new and utterly terrifying.

“Yeah, for real.”

He nods, to himself more than anything else, and licks his lips. It’s another moment of nothing, of just staring into each other’s eyes – her smiling and him looking determined – before he says, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

And, by Satan, he does.

[notesfromthefielddesk]

Episode 4 - Clifford Geertz

Episode link; https://open.spotify.com/episode/7MwsvHP2VFdpU8uDIRXBYh?si=d980149c963e44f7 

(Ambient sound of birds chirping)

John

How do I start?

I’ve been rushing around it feels like, it’s been frantic. I took couple weeks off. Switched off my phone. I’d been flying here and there, Papua New Guinea, South Sudan, North Sudan. So today i’m slowing down, the desk isn’t in the sea or surrounded by cows, I’m just in the room I rented in Bali. I’ve been just travelling around Indonesia for a while. I saw the guy in amongst the crowd but he seems to be keeping his distance now.

Really, I was just trying to get here. I’ve always wanted to come to Indonesia. All through my undergrad I imagined myself here. I thought of myself as Geertz 2.0. When I needed to write an essay I reached for Geertz. Essay about methodology, I’d open up “toward an interpretive theory of culture.” writing about Islam - then Islam Observed was right there. When I imagined myself in the field it was at the side of cockfight in Bali.

I always thought of myself as like him, I don’t know why. It’s funny the way memory works isn’t it?  I’ve been sort of just mooching around Indonesia. I’ve been reading Geertz, and listening back to the other episodes and I haven’t really liked what i’m seeing. In myself I mean. It made me look again at what Geertz, the way my students would. It made me realise I wasn’t a good student, I don’t mean grades, my grades were fine - good even. But i had no relationships to these texts, I was just looting them for arguments which I could line up, one after another, and win the argument - get the grade. The colonial equivalent of learning. I didn’t take what was in them into the world, and into my life.

I guess what I mean, is not memory generally, I mean it’s funny how my memory works. Because when I think about Geertz, I picture this story where a Cock fight gets broken up by the police. Everyones there in a circle cheering screaming, the crowd a single organism, moving in unison when a truck full of policeman roars up to the fight. Amid the cries of police, police, from the crowd they jump from the truck into the centre of the ring, waving their machine guns around. In an instant the crowd has scattered, and Geertz is running too. That frenetic energy was what I wanted. Geertz is a few strides behind a man he’s never met but when a gate into a courtyard opens and the man leaps through, Geertz follows. Seeing them sprawl onto the floor the mans wife whips out a table chairs and tea. Moments later the police enter the courtyard, to find two men in deep conversation about culture over a cup of tea.

I remember that story from “Deep play: Notes on the Balinese Cockfight” ,Which sounds like the title of some high brow porn by the way, so clearly. That was kind of the genius of Geertz to me. The way he conjured these scenes that were so visceral. I wanted a slice of that life. But when I turned up in Bali, no-one would talk to me. I didn’t know when the cock fights were even taking place. When I found one, I sat outside the circle behind my desk ignored. I went back to the room I was renting, and I read notes on the Balinese Cockfight again. And i’d ignored some parts. Before the Cock fight story, Geertz talks about spending months being ignored, by everyone. Not just talking to people and they give short answers but people were actively turning their backs to him.

Guess what? I don’t remember the Cock fight story that well either, I missed out a key piece of information. Greeted never travelled alone, in his part memoir, part ethnographic overview “after the fact” he says “I have never worked in the field alone for more than a month or so, and I doubt very much that I could have managed it.”

At the table in the courtyard, there were three chairs, three cups of tea and three people pretending to talk about culture. The person absent in my memory is Hildred Geertz. Clifford’s then wife. But she wasn’t just his wife, she’s an acclaimed anthropologist in her own right. What does it say about me that when I imagine Geertz he’s swashbuckling in the field alone, that I remember the excitement, forget the struggle and forget his wife. But it isn’t just me forgetting Hildred, the subtitle of Geertz’s memoir is; “Two Countries, Four Decades, One Anthropologists.” Laura Nader said in her review that Geertz comes across frustrated by his inability to understand his four decades of work; her conclusion, is that maybe we need two ethnographers to look back. I re-read that scene of the police chase again. Hildred is there, just. But only as “my wife” not as an active participant, she goes completely un-described, which is weird for a guy who believed that description took priority over explanation. Does that absolve me?

(Break for silence, bleed into some lo-fi curious music)

Geertz is famous for two things. The first is his description of culture. He said “Man is an animal suspended in webs of significance he himself has spun. I take culture to be those webs, and the analysis of it to be therefore, not an experimental science in search of law but an interpretive one in search of meaning.” Which is kind of a bummer. When I read Malinowski it really seemed like culture could be a key to getting answers about the world. And EP made me believe that too. Malinowski made me think you could understand the link between what someone does and why, and EP made me think I could do that at scale, why is this society like this? Because of cows, oh okay. Looking back it seems a bit…silly. But I wanted it to be true so badly. I wanted certainty but reading Geertz…it’s like being drawn in to a vortex of uncertainty and doubt. Which is exactly what I wanted to escape.

So what are we doing? In the field I mean, if were not revealing the structure of societies then what are we doing? Yeah we’re interviewing people, keeping a diary participant observing but those are just practices, what’s the essence? What’s the aim? Before 1967 and the release of Malinowski’s diary it seemed like the answer was going native but as we discussed… probably not a great approach. We can’t be detached either though, because as I’ve been reminded over and over that’s not great either.

And this is the second thing Geertz is famous for; Thick Description. I always took that to mean just lots of description. The kind of description that when you read it gives you the thrill of running from the police through a Balinese village. And Geertz definitely does a bunch of that but thick description means something…more than that.

Okay to explain i’m going to have to spend quite a while talking about winking. Sorry.

Geertz says imagine three boys. One has a twitch, one is winking and the third is an asshole. From an objective “I am a camera” perspective meaning you just describe what happens, the first two boys are doing the same thing, they are closing one eye. But, because we all know what winking is we can tell the difference between the boy who is winking and the one with a twitch. Now think about the asshole kid, he’s closing his eye as a way to mock the boy with a twitch. So we’ve got one act but three meanings, twitching, winking and mocking. Geertz adds a fourth. If the mocking kids fake twitch isn’t convincing enough or is too convincing the joke doesn’t work. So maybe earlier in the day at home when he was planning his joke, he stood in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror and practices his mocking twitch, adding a grimace here, an exaggerated head turn there. In this case he’s rehearsing. Four meanings.

I’ll add another wrinkle. Is the winking boy winking at the mocker or the twitcher? If it’s the first then maybe there is a conspiracy between the boys. When I wink you make fun of him! Or he doesn’t want to laugh in front of the boy with the twitch but still wants to give his approval of the performance. So maybe two of the boys are assholes. But if it’s the latter and he’s winking at the boy with the twitch maybe it’s an ill conceived attempt to console the boy with the twitch. So now we’re also getting into the relationships between the boys. But wait! What if they boy who is winking isn’t winking, he’s trying to mock the boy but he hasn’t rehearsed!

Side note; this isn’t Geertz’s idea he just popularised it, this theory comes from Ryle. So i’m summarising Geertz’s summary of Ryle… welcome to academia.

Anyway, the point of this long ass analogy is that the essence of ethnography isn’t going to far flung places, explaining society or going native. It’s the process of description which takes the three boys from three people closing one eye, to a boy with a twitch facing a preplanned conspiracy to mock him. That is what Geertz, via Ryle, calls thick description.

Geertz said description over everything! And that requires radical empathy and self reflection because to understand the three boys we have to be the opposite of an impartial observer we have to engage in the game, get the joke and be able to tell a wink from a wince. As researchers we aren’t a camera, we are one of the boys.

I can tell what you’re thinking. “Great, whatever, three imaginary people stood in a circle winking at each other. What’s this got to do with Indonesia.” Which is fair so let’s apply it to a cockfight.

Cockfighting is a big deal in Bali. Maybe less so than when Geertz did his research here in the 70s but still. Even the grumpiest Balinese man will transform when the topic comes up, and will launch into excited description of his… Rooster. And look I know what you’re thinking, and no the falic implications are not lost on people in Bali. If you can think of a penis joke on this topic, I assure you a Balinese man has 10 more in the same vein. Bateson and Mead two other anthropologists who wrote about this said and I quote “Cocks are viewed as detachable self operating penises, ambulant genitals with a life of their own.” An image that will now haunt my dreams.

Okay, but heres another comparison, Balinese men deeply personally identify with their…fighting chicken, when they talk about the fights they will say “I won” or “I fought so and so.” It’s like guys who are really into football and say “We got a good win today.” Except for instead of 22 men kick a ball around you’re strapping knives to the feet of chicken. Also like in football gambling is a major central part of cockfighting but it’s not exactly the point.

The point is, according to Geertz, to play out social tensions. So for example, in Bali you never bet against a cock from your social group and fighting always between rival groups. Therefore, what’s really at stake is each groups status in Bali, the cockfight then is a symbolic representation of social tensions. The fight is really a way of addressing fights between groups without bloodshed…well except chicken blood. Or to put it the way Geertz does the fights are a way to play with fire without getting burned.

It reminds me of clowning in Native American communities. In pueblo villages a secret society of clowns spend all year examining the social weak points of the community. Then for a day they are unleashed to overturn social convention. They steal babies, they dress the most beautiful girl in the village in ugly clothes, whilst the woo old women, if they see white people they are forced into mock gun fights re-enacting the genocide of native Americans. And at the end of the day all the things that have been bothering people are dealt with. Which might decontextualise the mocking boy right? Maybe not so much of an asshole.

Now that’s an example from half way around the world, in a totally different social context. But I don’t think Geertz would have minded the comparison. I know we’re jumping around but bear with me. In Geertz’s book “Islam observed” he compares Moroccan and Indonesian Islam. He says that different social conditions led to the religion being expressed in different ways. We won’t get into the details but by arguing this we’d assume that Geertz agrees with Asad - that Islam, and in fact all religion, is about personal embodiment or in other words, an individuals relationship with God or whatever. Remember what he said about culture “Man is an animal suspended in webs of significance he himself has spun.” But no that’s not what he concludes. He says that there is one Islam which is a symbol all Muslims have in common which helps to “render the strange familiar, the paradoxical logical, the anomalous, given recognised, if eccentric, ways of Allah, natural.” On the sliding scale of Gellner to Asad Geertz falls somewhere in the middle.

That’s how Geertz wanted us to read culture, symbolically, like it is literature. Memories are fallible, facts are elusive, generalisations have limited value. Meaning is central, description takes priority over explanation and metaphors of culture over reliable data.

(fade in on some sad music)

So what does the absence of Hildred symbolise. Maybe the erasure of women from my memory, and Geertz’s descriptions is symbolic of the erasure women in American and British Society? And what about the other absences in Geertz’s work? Laura Nader points out “Geertz went to Indonesia as part of a modernisation project to fight communism.” That’s absent from all the texts I mentioned.

Nader again “In his summary statement about the 1966 massacres in Pare (A town in Java Indonesia) he says that by 1986 the massacres were “hardly a memory at all.” Geertz may advocate a humanistic, reflexive, situated knowledge, but does he possess it himself?”

I see flashes of myself there. My students, Susan telling me that I shouldn’t be doing what I am doing but me ignoring it because it interfered with what I wanted to do.  Which of the winking boys does that make me?

(Pause)

I think it makes me the one who knows the joke about the boy with a twitch is mean, so doesn’t laugh but winks at the mocker, to let him know he still thinks it’s funny. By failing to confront the parts of Malinowski and EP and Gellner that I didn’t like or made me uncomfortable, I was giving them my tacit approval to imperialist ways of thinking. The absence of female ethnographers and my constant ignoring of Susan betrayed my patriarchal biases. I guess it just seemed right to slow down and think about that today. Here’s the extract.

(Fade into theme music)

Monologues are of little value here because there are no conclusions to be reported. There is merely a discussion to be sustained. In so far as the essays here collected have any importance. It is less in what they say than what they are witness too. An enormous increase in interest not only in anthropology but social studies in general and the role of symbols in cultural analysis. The danger that cultural analysis in search of all to deep lying turtles will lose touch with hard surfaces of life, the political economic realities in which men are elsewhere contained and with the biological and physical necessities those surfaces rest is an ever present one. In defence against it is to train such analysis on such realities and necessities in the first place. It is thus that I have written about nationalism, violence, identity, human nature, legitimacy, revolution, ethnicity, urbanisation, status. About death, about time and most of all particular attempts by particular people to place these things in some kind of comprehensible meaningful frame. To look at the symbolic aspects of life, art, religion, science law, morality, common sense. Is not to turn away from the existential it is to plunge into the midst of them. The essential vocation of interpretive anthropology is not to answer our deepest questions but to make available to us the answers of others guarding other sheep in other valleys and thus to include them in the consultable record of what man has said. 

Thank you for listening to notes from the field desk. Follow us on twitter and Instagram @notesfromtfd This episode references;

Geertz, Clifford - notes from a balinese cockfight

Geertz, Clifford - The interpretation of Cultures

Geertz, Clifford - Islam observed

Nader, Laura - review of after the fact by clifford geertz

And comedian Stewart Lee in conversation at oxford Brookes University

www.youtube.com/watch?v=8-2rVyizLt8&t=2705s

The sounds were;

Madam Wahala Beat by Nana Kwabena

Something is Going On by Godmode

Decision by the tower of light

and June songbirds You can find these sounds on youtube creator sounds.

As always our theme music was dark side of my students. freesound.org/people/miastodzwiekow/sounds/341770/