#i have been here almost a decade and have made and posted art and whatnot. i KNOW how this works

[yardsards]

i swear i get petty over the DUMBEST shit

i see some shit like "reblogs > likes" appended to a post and am like

okay now i'm not gonna like OR reblog this

[novastarlyght]

That Time I Named an Invader Zim Background Character and Everyone Thought it was Canon: The Story of Ixane

Like a lot of others it seems, the premiere of Enter the Florpus has recently made me think back to my first stay in the Invader Zim fandom many years ago. For me it was between 2006 and 2007, and I was 14-15 at the time. IZ was and still is a very special cartoon to me, not only for how it influenced me creatively but also the fact being a part of its fandom was my first really positive experience in a fan community. And I wanna talk about that experience because it... lead to something very interesting. Something that only could’ve happened in the now bygone days of the early internet where reliable sources were harder to find and misinformation was much more common, but somehow, has lasted until today. 

This is how Ixane, a silent extra that appears only in the episode “Backseat Drivers from Beyond the Stars,” got her name.

So first off, you might be wondering “Who the heck is Ixane?” As I mentioned, she only appears as a background character in the 21st episode of the original series, titled “Backseat Drivers from Beyond the Stars” which I’ll abbreviate for the rest of this post as just Backseat Drivers. She’s a member of The Resisty, a resistance group against the Irken Empire who also only appear in that episode, although they were planned to become more significant recurring characters later down the line before the show was cancelled.

In 2006 I LOVED the Resisty. They were my favorite group of characters in the entire show, probably because I was fascinated by all their potential which sadly didn’t get the chance to be explored before IZ was canceled. What planets did each of them come from? What are each of their individual species like? How did they form into a single resistance group? What were their names, their personalities? Their hopes, dreams and fears?! THEIR FAVORITE DRINKS?!?! I attempted to provide my own answers to some of these not-so-burning-to-anyone-but-myself (or so I thought at the time...) questions by writing a fanfic called “Resisting Authority,” which I published on Fanfiction.net and later DeviantArt. It’s since been taken down on FFN while the DA version is currently in private storage on my old account, so here’s a screenshot just to prove it existed:

(click here for larger image)

Despite being more adult in tone than the show it was based on and rather melodramatic (then again, I was 14, and probably so was everyone else reading it), “Resisting Authority” became really, REALLY popular... at least for a fic that didn’t feature any of the show’s main characters, given it was entirely about the Resisty and told mostly from the perspective of its leader, Captain Lard Nar. Regardless it got a large amount of positive feedback and significant fan art on DeviantArt, most of which is no longer online although there’s still a little bit hanging around - mainly featuring Lyn, an Irken OC from the story who chooses to rebel against the empire and falls in love with Lard Nar, leading to a star crossed lovers conflict.

Because the purpose of the fic was to further explore the Resisty along with the idea of “What if an Irken betrayed their own?” several characters that appeared onscreen for only a couple of seconds in Backseat Drivers were fleshed out considerably in “Resisting Authority,” where they were given names, species names, home planet names, backstories, motivations and personalities. And of these the one who received by far the most development was a feminine, blue-eyed alien in a hooded purple cloak who I decided to name “Ixane.”

Ixane would become one of the most important characters in “Resisting Authority” right behind Lard Nar and Lyn. She is a Xanan from the planet Xana, a race of spiritual mystics. She is initially distrustful of Lyn, despite her actions and claims to be as much of a rebel as the rest of them, due to her hatred for the Irken Empire and how they destroyed her home. She believes Irkens are more like machines than living creatures, their bodies merely being empty shells to carry their PAKs around, making them incapable of genuine emotion. When she discovers Lyn and Lard Nar have been in a secret romantic relationship, she becomes even more hateful towards Lyn both due to jealousy, since she’d been harboring feelings for Lard Nar herself, and her genuine belief that Lyn’s feelings aren’t real, something that will only hurt Lard Nar in the end.

However throughout the course of the story her views are challenged and eventually Lyn manages to prove her wrong by displaying what she can’t deny is anything but legitimate love for Lard Nar and compassion for her allies in the Resisty. Unfortunately Lyn is fatally injured during a battle with a number of Irken soldiers sent to hunt down the rebellion. Now wanting nothing more than happiness for the person she loves, Ixane uses her mystical powers to save Lyn’s life while sacrificing her own in the process.

This character development (both in the meta sense and in the context of the fic itself) plus her selfless heroic sacrifice is what I think made Ixane one of the fic’s breakout characters and caused her to stick in the minds of those who read “Resisting Authority.” They were no longer thinking of her as just some extra, but as this fully developed character complete with an arc that I’d made her into - as the character of Ixane. But it didn’t occur to me just how big of an impact this may have truly had until about 9 years later.

In 2015, the official Invader Zim comic series by Oni Press began publication and I found myself extremely hyped about IZ again for the first time in almost a decade. It was during this time I came across a particular IZ wiki article and section of its TV Tropes page...

(Sources are here and here)

And I thought to myself “Wait... I thought I named her Ixane...?”

Because at this point I seriously couldn’t remember. I hadn’t thought about “Resisting Authority” in years, and with TV Tropes in particular noting that Ixane’s name was given “in the [episode] script” I wondered if I didn’t actually come up with the name. Maybe it was in the script for Backseat Drivers after all so I used it in the fic. Being unable to find said script (the original script as made by the episode’s writers, not a transcript) I couldn’t confirm it, so I mainly shrugged it off and thought more than likely I just had a bad memory. It wouldn’t be on a (still regularly maintained) wiki if it didn’t at least have a high possibility of being canon, right?

Cut to last night, August 2019. Me and all my other friends and fellow nerds who also grew up loving IZ are still buzzing over Enter the Florpus and our childhood/teenage fan content comes up in conversation. I dig up “Resisting Authority” from my old DA storage for perhaps a good laugh and a bit of nostalgia when more of when I first wrote it starts to come back to me. “I know the wikis all say her name was in the script, but I swear I came up with the name Ixane myself,” I thought, wondering if there was any way I could prove it.

Turns out I could. All the proof I needed was in a drawing of the character I posted to DA in January of 2007, which like the fic was still in storage:

(click here for larger image)

“Um...I bet a lot of people who read Resisting Authority got the impression she was an OC. She technically isn't. She is a Resisty character we saw VERY BRIEFLY once or twice in Backseat Drivers and I just elaborated on her for the story. The cloaked girl, yasee. Just look here: [link] “

That link no longer works normally, however putting it into Wayback Machine provides a snapshot taken in September of 2006, which would be around the time “Resisting Authority” was first published on FFN. Scrolling down on that page gives us...

(click here for larger image)

Additionally, opening the image itself reveals the filename “resistycloak.jpg” rather than something like “ixane.jpg” or “resistyixane.jpg”

For those who weren’t in the fandom back then, The Scary Monkey Show was a very well known IZ fansite and its Encyclopedias section was basically a resource for the show’s lore, one considered highly reliable, before things like fan wikis became commonplace. I actually used this site as a reference for the different types of Irken ships and other planets in the IZ universe brought up in the fanfic and so did many other fic writers at the time. If any site on the internet would know a minor or even background IZ character’s name, if it really was in the official episode script, it’d be The Scary Monkey Show. Yet her name is listed as unknown.

So why am I telling you this?

Because as wild as this whole situation is, I’m not a person who likes misinformation. I feel like IZ fans, both young and old, should know Ixane is not actually this character’s canon name as given to her by the writers of the show. That being said...

I see no reason to stop calling her Ixane. That’s just her name now.

Heck, it’d probably be difficult to go back to thinking of her as having no name given how long the name has been used on all these wiki pages and whatnot. And I’m completely fine with receiving absolutely zero credit for actually being the one who came up with the name in the first place, because here’s the thing...

I may have made the name, but it was the fandom that spread it. The IZ community, primarily in my absence too, were the ones who codified, legitimized it. Who added it to those wikis and accepted it as canon all these years. Who believed in it enough to assume it came from the official episode script, from the IZ crew themselves!

Ixane isn’t my name for her. It’s our name for her, as the fans who made Invader Zim the cult classic it is today.

And I want that to be something we all can have and be proud of ❤︎

[stopbeingabigot]

So I've thought about this for a while and even though there are other posts like this I'd thought I'd make another post how to spot a terf/ gender critical radfem.

It is hard to spot a terf or gender critical radfem if they aren't being obvious about it such as making their url something to do with radical feminism or have it in their bio ect ect. So here are other ways to know!

First and I know this has been pointed out many times before but its important to search on their blog for keywords such as terf, radfem, radfem safe, trans ect.

Radfem & terfs who want to hide themselves blend in by rebloging basic feminist ideas mostly. And sometimes its really hard to pinpoint them due to things that aren't necessarily radfem ideology however a majority of radfems believe in this or do this.

Vagina art & ovary art are wonderful however ovaries art or vagina art are commonly used as pfp or headers, or all over terfs blog. Of course you can enjoy it as well and do the same thing but this is popular in terf/radfem spaces because " only women have ovaries " We don't like this quote because not all women are born with ovaries and this might make them feel disincluded with women and transmen with ovaries might feel uncomfortable with this statement since they aren't women yet they have ovaries. So if you enjoy this artwork quite a bit make sure its obvious in otherways that you are not a terf such as in your bio or whatever.

Another terf/radfem believe that isn't necessarily a terf/radfem ideology but a majority of them share this opinion is, they tend to hate all religion because they believe any and all religion is oppressive towards women. Religion can be oppressive towards women however I realize (and I think the majority of "libfems"* also realize) that a lot of religions are almost "changing" some of their beliefs to be more inclusive and less judgmental. I personally have been to a newer Christian church that was refreshingly not as strict. There are also other branches or sectors of religion that are not as strict as others. I also realize that women are now able to choose what religion they believe in if any. I'd also like to point out maybe to the terf whos stalking these tags reading this I am a practicing witch, and I see some of you are too and although witchcraft in itself isn't a religion, or has to be connected to a specific one, it is religious act to be praising a certain god/goddess/deity.

Another thing to watch out for is swerf & anti porn rhetoric since this is also a common topic in terf/radfem spaces. I am not anti sex work, I want sex work to be safe and not a discriminatory status. I understand that a lot of pornstars have been mistreated but that doesn't make me want to end it, I just want better treatment for them. I want them to raise the age of actors of porn so they can no longer get away with these "barely legal" and videos tagged with teen because I do believe that these types of videos normalize pedophilia. I also believe that sexwork seems interesting towards teens thats are trying to just escape their family, I mean heck I've personally thought like that in the past but I want to rid of that because sexwork should be something you genuinely want to do and yes I've heard plenty of sexworkers saying this is sincerely something that I enjoy doing but it isn't for everyone which is why it shouldn't be something you go into with the intention of trying to escape an abusive family or whatnot. Mia Khalifa said that video that had made her famous she felt pressured to sign a contract that she didn't truly understand the same day of shooting. I want to do away with that, pornstars deserve to have the time to look over a script and contract with a lawyer. Pornstars also deserve much more money then they make as they only receive a very small percentage and since they are risking their health to make these videos healthcare is also a must!Sexwork has also changed dramatically even within the last decade. Webcaming and sights like onlyfans make it easier for sexworkers to walk away from big brand porn companies and control their own content and get paid what they feel is deserved. I also have more opinions on other branches of sex work but since this rant is so long already It's time to finish up. Swerfs need to realize that they are never going to put a stop to sexwork completly and it is better to focus on making it safer then attempting to outlaw it. Also imo the attempt to stop it reinforces the stigma that society has towards sex workers which I also want to stop because sex work deserves to be treated as any other work so that if a sex worker wants to one day become a teacher or doctor or whatever else they don't get discriminated against it for it.

That's currently all I can think of right now but this post will have additions once I see some more common topics of terf/radfem spaces. My opinions on said common topics are added to at least attempt to eliminate any radfems going "well why don't you believe in this seems pretty bad that you don't" type of discussion I know that this wont completely stop terfs/radfems from attempting to derail this post with their arguments but I've said what I've said and won't change my mind on any of it.

* libfem is in quotes in a previous paragraph because I think a majority of us started out liberal but have since gone further left but there isn't another word for us feminists who don't agree with radfem ideas other than libfem.

[ionchef]

King of Anything - An Escaflowne Fanfiction

A/N: Because I can never stop when I’m having fun, I decided to continue this fic. Right now, I’ve about 13 Chapters outlined but who knows what all I still come up with. If you prefer to read on FFN, you probably know how to find it there.

A huge 'Thank you' goes out to Meghanna Starsong, my sharpest and friendliest critic, who has once again been instrumental in assisting me with this outline (which is still under construction).

King of Anything

Act 1, Chapter 2

In which Van finally gets his coffee but Escaflowne disapproves.

Fanelia's raven-haired king took similar, if not more, care whilst slipping out of the palace this time. His disguise was, once again, pivotal to the success of this little excursion. Granted, it was only the second time he was perusing it but it seemed as though the scheme could be a way of offering him a much-needed breather from now on when necessary.

Someone cleared their throat and it sounded as if amplified through a can due to the nature of the source, then hollered against the marble floor and walls. The sound demanded immediate attention and emanated clear disapproval. Van froze in mid-step down the deserted hallway just outside the royal apartments. Ah but of course. He had nearly forgotten the grouchy sentry who now never was too far away.

Almost like a puppy, he usually followed Van around unless otherwise instructed. Turning, the king peered at the robot who had stepped away from his guard post. Van was already mildly annoyed because for the better part of the day he had been trailed by hordes of foreign and Fanelian members of the royal council. Sure, he usually had a daily agenda anyway but this week was especially busy for various reasons.

The sentry in question, Escaflowne, had been in every ruling king's possession since the early days of Fanelian history. Purchased from the mysterious and elusive Ispano folk, the machine was a masterfully crafted protector and weapon. Considered a patron deity way back when, now more like a champion of Fanelia, Escaflowne had been rebooted again. Much unlike other melefs here, Asturia, Freid, Zaibach, or other countries south of the Big Seas, Escaflowne was unique.

The machine was tied to the king of Fanelia through a blood pact. To operate, it required the heart of a dragon. A drag energist had to be obtained by the worthy heir and that meant hunting and slaying one of the beasts. Escaflowne could only be activated this way and his service always ended, well, when the king ended. While other melefs were nothing more than drones, programmed to defend or perform manual labor, Escaflowne had a life and intelligence of his own.

"Going somewhere?"

Much to the occasional dismay of his master.

Escaflowne's eyes glowed in what seemed like amusement through the slit of the robot's helmet. While he had resembled a knight in traditional Fanelian samurai armor in some shape or form for generations before, his appearance had been thoroughly updated by the Ispano prior to this activation.

It was part of the service agreement to keep him under a lifetime warranty and up to the newest standards of Ispano technology. Improvements had been made which increased Escaflowne's degrees of freedom, allowed for more variety in his end effectors, as well as extended reach, payload, and repeatability.

"In a poor disguise unlikely to fool anyone, no less."

Together with an update of his behavioral characteristics befitting a more modern Gaea.

"Your father would highly disapprove."

And his internal memory storage, which had been expanded through another chip to add on to the centuries of knowledge stored away inside of him.

The machine towered over any human by a good three feet. His chassis was covered entirely by Ispano white, metal armor in mostly rectangular panels. The updated look still incorporated two diamond-shaped receptacles for green energists on each shoulder and one octagonal receptacle for the main energist on the left side of his breastplate, where a human's heart would be. This energist was the special one, the one Van had collected from the corpse of the dragon.

Escaflowne stood a few feet away from him, scowling as Van resumed on his way. Despite the king's current mood, it was good to have Escaflowne back. The last time the sentry had been in operation was during his father's reign over the country but it felt different now with him being the one to command it.

He still wasn't completely used to this monarch gig, burdened with decisions which affected not just him but everybody else in the kingdom. Although there were enough resources for advice in the form of an eager council -too many resources at times, really- he always put a great deal of thought into the consequences for each decision. Sure, he had been educated and prepared well for years but now it was real. It had felt different when Balgus was the steward of Fanelia, bound to rule within the tight guidelines set by ancient laws until the rightful heir finally claimed his throne.

"No need to follow," Van answered courtly and as an afterthought he added "don't wait up," while tossing his suit jacket with the Fanelian crest on the breast pocket towards the robot. Escaflowne's arm moved in a circular motion type to reflexively catch the garment. While it wasn't uncommon for patriotic people to sport the diamond-shaped insignia with the dragon wings on clothing items, it would probably be better to not wear it right now.

The king's daily attire had finally been given a major overhaul. Pomp and gaudiness had been toned down which allowed for more relaxed-fitting suits. Especially when it came to the damn tight collars and the amount of embroidery, as well as more dark colors instead of screaming, royal red. While Van casually made his way further down the hallway, Escaflowne's steps and robotic voice echoed behind him. "I'm compelled to inform you how absolutely terrible of an idea…"

Closing the heavy fire door to the emergency exit behind himself, the machine's last few words were muffled considerably. While Escaflowne's primary objective was to protect the royal family and Fanelian citizens from harm, the robot's programming was still slaved to Van's commands. He sighed in relief and descended the old, slightly uneven stone steps of the narrow staircase. The main structure of the palace was still original but plenty of renovations over the last decades had altered the overall appearance just like the rest of the city.

Old-town Fanelia close by the palace and the palace itself were reminiscent of the ancient, historical architecture the most. The core structures of most buildings were made from solid stone cut from massive boulders by stonemasons in centuries long past. In centuries long past when men rode into battle on the backs of Yerkle and no walls protected the citizens from the fury of dragons native to this part of Gaea.

Now, many, many lifetimes later, the original houses and storefronts had been modernized with materials such as glass and steel whenever alterations or renovations were performed. As the largest structure, the royal palace still remained the focal point. Built atop of a high plateau, the natural terrain of the mountain slopes it sat on was enforced with another protective, metal layer which doubled as the last line of defense for those inhabiting the palace. Luckily, the armament hiding inside the casing had never seen the light of day since it had been installed by Van's great-grandfather.

A bit further outward from old-town, the foundations of the first wall were still visible in some places as a concentric circle closer to the palace. The wall had been torn down several times to make room for a prosperous, growing city to provide more space. Each time it had been relocated, it had been rebuilt with upgraded materials or updated as time passed and more modern ways for defense emerged. Further north-east, a tall mountain range with sharp peaks enclosed the city from the back like a natural barrier.

It took a while for Van to make his way out of the palace although avoiding people who were more accustomed to seeing him in a less formal state proved to be suspiciously easy. Nobody seemed to even pay attention to him. Turns out, Escaflowne's worries were very unfounded. His disguise was downright impeccable! As he strode across the courtyard, a radio blared pop music from the guard post not far off.

Royal security guards were hardly alert, talking to each other about upcoming plans for days off and some such stuff. One of the larger men in royal crimson enthusiastically tapped his booted foot to the beat of the music and mimicked the female singer's voice with his own high-pitched falsetto. It made Van cringe a bit.

The courtyard was fairly wide, originally intended for military formations back in the day or ceremonies such as coronations, parades, weddings, and whatnot. He was passing the round, blue and white flower mosaic in the center of it shortly after. The one he'd kneeled on while being crowned king not long ago. That ceremony had also been annoyingly stiff and followed a bunch of ancient rituals. Really though. Were other kingdoms still so backward too when it came to all this?

It'd been a while since he and Merle had last gone on any diplomatic trips but he was pretty sure the heir of, say, Egzardia wasn't required to wear a full-on armor complete with helmet and cape at their coronation. On the other hand, there was also a good chance they didn't consider a razor-sharp samurai sword to be the ruling symbol of their monarch. The sword itself and the art of wielding it in training, Van had always appreciated but actually using it in combat, to kill something, was so very different than anything could have prepared him for.

The royal sword was an heirloom passed down through generations and the thought of holding something which tied him to the long line of kings before him filled Van with pride. The sword was, without a doubt, his most valuable possession.

Thing is, it should have been Folken's. His brother, who had for some reason failed at passing the rite of dragon slaying. Even after tossing the issue around in his head for years, Van couldn't figure out what had happened. There'd never been any rescue missions or search parties either. On this quest, the heir to the throne was on his own. If he died, he died. Not the best odds considering what they were up against but customs wouldn't allow someone to rule if they weren't worthy.

One would think this whole ordeal with Escaflowne, slaying a dragon by hand, and the energist made zero sense. Why would a king well-versed in mortal sword combat need a machine such as Escaflowne? Kind of pointless, right?

Wrong.

Apparently, the Ispano had been instrumental in ensuring that Fanelia was well guarded before a wall had first been constructed. A king responsible for protecting his citizens needed a badass sidekick after all. Before him, Escaflowne had been under his father's command. The robot remembered Van from the time he'd been active then but after Goau Fanel was taken by a deadly disease, Escaflowne went into a temporary idle state until Van awakened it with the new energist.

The sentry had recognized him immediately after activation, had memory storage devoted to Van and all their interactions but now, due to the upgrades and change in ownership, the mood between them was something else. Maybe it was also due to the altered settings in Escaflowne's software or whatever it was the machine operated on now. Obviously, Ispano technology had made progress in the last years again but what the robot's inner workings looked like, only they knew.

For the most part, Van supposed Escaflowne's endoskeleton was made similarly to the melef drones which guarded armored mining convoys traveling beyond the wall each day. So yes, people did go outside daily but it was only specially trained workers who stayed on established and guarded routes. Nobody in their right mind would deviate from that.

Thankfully, it had been weeks since the last dragon incident outside. Even then, those drones programmed to protect the armored vehicle convoys had been able to take care of it. Dragons were fierce but not immortal. They favored the climate in this part of Gaea and only very few strayed into other regions.

For this reason, Fanelia was home to the only dragon graveyards on the charted globe which made it the prime exporter for drag energists. Since a good part of Gaean technology operated on this power source, the small country of Fanelia was a critically important member of international trade proceedings.

That's also why so many countries had diplomatic reps residing in Fanelia. Good relations with the only source for drag energist power was essential.

Van never understood why his ancestors had chosen to set up camp here so long ago before modern technology was even a thing. Who builds a city in the most dragon-infested piece of this continent? His people, apparently. Sure, history books had been shoved under his nose just as soon as he'd been able to read. Not that they weren't interesting but a bit more freedom to choose other material would have been nice every now and again.

But there was no use in griping about it now. His heritage, the throne, while the general public and the paparazzi made it seem all kinds of extravagant, required a great deal of self-sacrifice. The only reason Van really never griped about it too much was that he truly cared for his people. His pride of country, even though dragon-infested, prevailed above all. And, of course, the love for his adopted sister.

Merle had joined the family when Van was so small he couldn't recall a time without her around. Not that he wanted to. Sassy and opinionated as she was, his sister was an anchor to normal life in the palace. A palace so big it sometimes felt like he'd get metaphorically and literally lost. He even still felt this way now as a man in his early twenties.

Actually, he felt like that especially while passing through the massive wrought iron gate, the entrance and exit which lead to a wide staircase flanked by two sets of elevators on either side. It was the main and only convenient way to get on and off the palace plateau. People were already lined up to leave after a day of diplomatic games at court. Men in suits carrying briefcases and women in modest dresses and heels with large purses.

Some looked tired but happy to leave, waiting to get to their homes down in the city, the royal court only a place of business, unlike for Van. After all, the king worked and lived here. That's why he needed a bit of a break. Some time to himself. Right now!

Nobody ever took the stairs, especially not up. Except before there were elevators, of course. It took about five minutes of walking to get all the way down and climbing the stairs was an entirely different workout altogether. Van didn't mind, especially not because it meant his chances for being recognized by an observant council member were pretty much slim to none. Again, not that anybody was even looking. They probably all thought he either worked here too or was the stuck-up son of a diplomat. All the better for him.

The only area where he encountered a few people again was towards the bottom where pedestrians sometimes liked to hang out. The narrow cobblestone streets of old town around the palace were popular with hip, young people for taking pictures, sometimes with the palace way up as a backdrop. Some of them liked to sit on the stairs to eat ice cream or drink a cup of coffee from one of the chains along the small square. A cup of coffee like the young man he was passing. A sub-par coffee served in a disposable to-go cup.

Van wrinkled his nose. Nope, he needed the real thing. A coffee brewed from freshly roasted beans that didn't come from an industrial-sized machine made to satisfy the craving of hordes of people every day. Good coffee required love and care in preparation and was served in a ceramic mug. A rather large one, if at all possible. Could he have gotten a stellar cup of coffee in the kitchens at the palace? Yeah, sure but it defied the purpose. He just wanted to feel carefree for a bit and that wasn't going to happen up there.

In that quaint shop not too long ago, he had gotten a very homey vibe and that wasn't just because the young woman behind the counter had basically halfway undressed him as if it was their shared home they'd been in. Van's steps slowed a bit at the thought and he paused at the mouth of the familiar, narrow alley. So full of drive to get there and redeem the promise of a cup of that steaming hot nectar of life had he been that he had forgotten all about the rather…scandalous incident weeks ago.

Some mad luck it was that nobody but him, her, and Balgus seemed to know about it. It would have been the headline of the month and he hated being on the cover of those paparazzi magazines.

Too late for second thoughts. The air was already redolent with the rich aroma of dark roast, the scent stealing out through the cracked door of the little, old coffee shop only a short distance away. It was enveloping Van, beckoning him closer to the source. The dark magic spell was just too strong. He wasted no time in making his way there albeit still wary of what would happen if she was really there again.

The little bell Balgus had abused so violently gave a bit of a muted ding when he entered. There was a small crowd of other customers this time but sure enough, a mop of short honey-colored hair was visible behind the heads in front of him. Not a long line but a few people, just like him, obviously still appreciated the slow pace of a little mom and pop coffee shop like this. These people didn't rush through life but instead took the time to sit down and enjoy the simple pleasure of savoring a cup of fresh brew.

The line moved only slowly but it didn't bother anyone as everyone patiently awaited the careful attention given by…what was her name again?

"Hitomi!"

Right.

"Hey, Yukari," Hitomi cheerfully greeted a redheaded woman in green scrubs in front of Van. "Nice of you to stop by. Do you just want the usual?"

"Yes but make it a triple shot of espresso, pretty please. I need it badly," the woman named Yukari responded while stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

"You got it," Hitomi promised and got to work.

Van could see a bit better now. She looked just the same but was in a pair of jeans and a white shirt under the green apron. His palms became a bit sweaty and the cheek she had administered the impressive slap to tingled all of the sudden. Damn. Maybe he should leave.

Of course, right at that moment she turned around and placed the large cup and saucer in front of the redhead on the counter and saw him. Her eyes flickered to the side briefly, then widened in recognition.

Yukari liked to stop by the little coffee shop Hitomi worked at on the way home whenever she could. They didn't always have the same shifts at the teaching hospital. Of course, having a hookup for the best coffee money could buy was an incentive to come here above all.

Hitomi turned away from the back counter and served her friend but then almost dropped the cup when she saw who was standing behind her. What in the seven hells…

Her eyes widened and her brows shot up. Was this really?

Yep, it definitely was. No other than the king of Fanelia, incognito again and looking like a young business professional in dark navy slacks and a white button-down shirt with sleeves rolled up to just under his elbows. He was next in line after her best friend and roommate. With his raven hair disheveled and wearing the same mirrored shades again, he looked too effortlessly handsome to be completely inconspicuous. Hitomi's heart skipped a beat when he raised a finger and placed it on his lips, motioning for her to keep his presence a secret.

His lips. The sight made her heart skip another beat and her hands went cold. All of this happened in a matter of seconds so Yukari seamlessly accepted the cup from Hitomi before she squealed so suddenly it forced Hitomi to direct her undivided attention back to her.

"I almost forgot!" Yukari trilled full of excitement. "Amano's brother will be in Fanelia later this week and you won't believe it but he said he could get us into the Mystic Moon!"

The Mystic Moon was Fanelia's hippest and most extravagant nightclub. It was named after the phantom moon visible in Gaea's sky behind its smaller twin. Neither of them had ever been there because it was nearly impossible for normal folks to get in. It was a ritzy place for rich people and kids of diplomats to party the night away.

No wonder Yukari was excited. It wasn't that Hitomi didn't like to dance or go out to party. She did. But the thought of spending a well-deserved evening trying to unwind and have a good time in the company of people she wouldn't normally have anything to do with made her feel a bit weird. Not like they were likely to schmooze with Fanelia's high-society. These people could probably tell from a mile away that their clothing wasn't name brand and that this definitely wasn't their normal stomping ground.

Well, at least she'd have Yukari and Amano. After the day she had walked in on them making out, they had finally declared their relationship status as official. The fact that they were all roommates luckily didn't have to change even after that. They had known each other long enough but walking in on them practically piled on top of each other had been an unexpected shocker.

Yukari's now-boyfriend, Amano, who was one year their senior, had been in Fanelia already a few months before they came and started college. He had been an accomplished athlete in Asturia and gotten multiple offers for sports scholarships from colleges around Gaea, then ultimately chosen to move to Fanelia and pursue an education in engineering and whatever else that entailed.

Although Amano and Allen were twin brothers, they had always had different styles and interests so Hitomi and Yukari never got to know him well. Especially not after moving halfway across the continent. Allen had opted for a completely different line of work and was now the head of security to Asturia's princess, Millerna Aston. If Allen was going to be here, that meant princess Millerna was likely the reason for his upcoming presence.

"We need to talk outfits later tonight!" Yukari was already beginning to scheme.

"Sounds like fun," Hitomi lied successfully and watched Yukari nod and motion to a table in the corner.

"Don't want to hold up your line. I'll be right here, reviewing a few pages in our beloved tome of anatomy while you work." Yukari said while already moving towards it.

Hitomi held her breath when her friend turned and nearly bumped into the tall man behind her. She briefly looked at him and smiled while shuffling past him. "S'cuse me."

"Ok great," Hitomi acknowledged her friend while already face to face with the dark-haired man who had been patiently looming behind her best friend until now.

That. Smug. Look on his face. Okay, maybe it wasn't intentional but he clearly came off smug. It was actually, probably just the sunglasses. Hitomi couldn't tell what he was really looking at and that bothered her. He did, of course, have a good reason for hiding though. So what. The reigning monarch wanted some coffee. No big dealio.

Dragonshit.

Of course, it was a big deal. Why was he here again of all places?

Oh drat, that's right, Hitomi remembered. Again, all this took place in a fraction of a second. Before he could even speak, she turned towards the back counter and filled one of the large mugs to the brim with piping hot coffee.

"Black, right?" Hitomi said while sliding it across the counter towards him with as much of a neutral expression as she could muster. "On the house," she said and it unintentionally may have come out a bit rude. Good thing nobody was paying attention because she clearly wasn't good at pretending like this was an absolutely normal transaction.

"Thank you," the disguised king said with the hint of a warm smile. Fine, maybe he really hadn't intended to come off smug but seeing him again right here made her remember the incident in such clarity as though it had only just happened yesterday.

The way she had shamelessly unbuttoned his shirt as if he was just a regular guy off the street. His warm hand on top of hers while stopping the bleeding on his wounded, upper arm. And then, of course, sitting on his lap, and….and…

Their encounter, although brief, was something she'd probably never forget.

It was so crazy she'd never even told anybody about it. Yukari was her best friend but even she would have laughed. Yeah, right. The king himself, waltzing into the shop disguised as a commoner. Recounting Hitomi's own clumsiness would have definitely checked out but then, the picture-book accident, like a scene from a silly rom-com. She probably wouldn't have believed it either.

For a while, she'd even convinced herself that it hadn't really happened. Not until she had found one of the paparazzi magazines Yukari loved so much open on the coffee table a few days later. It was turned to a page that had several pictures of 'The Most Eligible Bachelors on Gaea' on a double-page spread.

Undeniably, it had been him. His stature, the hair, the dark skin, and of course the garnet red eyes. Unique, garnet red eyes that were at this moment hidden to the world by only a pair of sunglasses. A pair of sunglasses attached to the very man standing right on the other side of the counter, still offering her a gentle half-smile.

Hitomi took a calm breath. He actually hadn't been completely insufferable even after she had, very deservedly, defended herself by slapping him so hard it'd immediately left a searing, red mark. Not a permanent one, as far as she could tell, thankfully. Come to think, did they still execute people here?

Now that she thought of it, the way to dispose of severe offenders in Fanelia was to ban them beyond the wall. But really, that hadn't happened in decades. It was a severely antiquated form of punishment. Eaten alive by a dragon? Probably not the law of the land anymore. Although…

"You're welcome," Hitomi finally forced herself to say as casually as possible. A side glance at Yukari confirmed that her friend was anything but attentive anymore after a, no doubt, hectic day at the hospital. Some days, patients demanded a whole lot of energy besides the free care they provided.

The tall, dark, and handsome man in front of her finally accepted the mug and was about to walk away but then reached into his trouser pocket. With a smooth movement, he dropped a crisp, folded bill into the tip jar full of coins and then found a seat at a tiny table on the far side. He sat sideways in the chair, leaning his back against the wall and propped one arm up on the table to hold the mug possessively even while he wasn't drinking.

Hitomi decided she'd try not to care that king Van Fanel was casually sitting on the other side of the room although this course of action was, naturally, sure to compel her to care even more.

Leaning against the wall behind him, he looked like his eyes could be closed but Hitomi thought she saw him tilt his head her way every now and again while she served a few more customers and then busied herself with some cleanup. Admittedly, she caught herself sneaking some glances here and there too. Okay, maybe more than just here and there.

Hey, nobody in their right mind would blame her if they knew what was up. It wasn't even just because he was the king of all Fanelia that she caught herself looking. He was, as previously mentioned, also very easy on the eyes. Especially with his shirt off.

No! Not that! Any thought but that!

Hitomi quickly ducked behind the counter and cupped her flaming cheeks in cool palms. She almost fell over backward when Yukari's head appeared from above.

"What are you doing down there?" Her friend asked.

Hitomi quickly snatched a clean rag from the pile on the little shelf next to her. "Just looking for this," she said weakly while it dangled in her grasp.

"Ah. Well, I'm gonna go now. Amano and I will get dinner started. Should be ready by the time you get home," Yukari waved briefly while Hitomi straightened back up.

The redness on her face was still present but what was there to do about it?

"Cool. I'm going to close at six," Hitomi said despite the nervousness.

"Say, " Yukari finally asked. "Are you okay?"

Her façade had obviously been not as convincing after all. Was she okay? Hells no, the king of Fanelia was sitting mere feet away. Was Yukari really not seeing that?

"Yes! Of course," Hitomi answered almost a bit too fast while her disobedient eyes stole a glance at the raven-haired man not far away.

Yukari briefly narrowed her eyes but then turned and walked towards the door. "You're such a weirdo sometimes. Later!"

Hitomi breathed a sigh of relief when her friend left. There was no telling what would have happened if Yukari had found out just who was sitting by the wall, now idly playing with the handle of the mug. It was astonishing that she hadn't recognized him right off the bat.

Yukari was one of those people who loved gossip about high society and read magazines published by the paparazzi during lunch breaks. Was the king's disguise really this good? No. No, it absolutely wasn't! Now that she looked at him again, it was totally obvious. Anybody should be able to tell. Who was dense enough to not recognize somebody just because they decided to sport a pair of glasses and mess up their hair?

Turns out everybody, including her, actually. She hadn't recognized him the first time either but attributed it to the fact that she didn't follow the high society news and never made it a point to sift through papers or magazines looking at pictures of 'The Most Eligible Bachelors on Gaea'. And if, then most certainly not the royal-blooded kind. The kind like the man gaping in her direction now.

Big yikes. She had been caught looking directly at him. A gigantic sweatdrop formed on the backside of her head when she noticed that Van was staring right back at her. How long had she been gawking? Seconds? Minutes? This was mortifying. She began to panic a bit when he rose from the old, worn chair and sauntered right up to the counter.

Without much ado at all, he placed the empty mug before her and said "thank you for the coffee," then pushed it a bit further her way before adding quietly, so that none of the last few people in the small room could hear, "I apologize for bothering you."

Great, now she felt bad. Hitomi reached out instinctively and groped for the empty coffee mug, staring at her own reflection in his shades while distinctly remembering what his eyes had looked like up close. Her fingers brushed his warm hand but he didn't hurry to retract it.

At least he had good manners and was nice enough to bring his dishes back. Further confirmation that he maybe wasn't such a bad guy after all? Less of an enigmatic, royal pain than Yukari's magazines depicted him to be. In the pictures she did see every now and again, king Van Fanel looked untouchable, serious, and rarely smiled. He was always wrapped in an invisible cloak of admiration, adulation, and respect and that showed in his demeanor. The demeanor of a royal who never let his guard down.

So much unlike now. Right now, in this cozy, friendly place he looked like he felt…comfortable. Like he was able to let his guard down for at least a short while. Maybe that's why he was here. He had said something along those lines after the…incident. Gods be damned she really needed to stop calling it that. It had been a kiss. His lips had been on hers, full on.

Then, after she'd delivered her retribution, he'd apologized and it seemed to have been sincere. After that, he had justified his desperate course of action. Hiding from his guards and wanting to be alone for a minute had been the very simple reason for that shorted circuit in his brain. Something about wanting to feel normal and not like the fate of all Fanelia was going to be resting on his shoulders soon.

Well, now it was. The weight. Resting on his shoulders. But he was carrying it well enough so far she was aware. Even she had read the announcements and news articles about his coronation not long ago and seen him in the ceremonial armor. A bit olden-timey but a guy like him, emanating that kind of swag, could probably look good in anything.

There they were again. Uncalled-for thoughts that would lead nowhere although he wasn't making any haste in retrieving his hand from under hers, or was he? She chanced a glance there.

The woman's eyes flickered to their barely touching hands and it made Van snap out of this frozen moment in time. Although the effect of the delicious coffee had him on high alert, the spellbinding power of the honey blonde's green eyes was stronger.

This situation was quite unusual. He felt so at home in the little coffee shop, had enjoyed sitting there by himself, sipping some hot brew out of an old, overused mug scratched inside and out from stirring spoons and endless use.

It was exactly what he'd needed but he hadn't bargained with being quite so captivated by seeing her again. It was really him who was to blame for all the awkwardness. If he hadn't used her so shamelessly, stolen a kiss just to hide his ass, they wouldn't be in this situation now. Maybe sneaking out of the palace wasn't such a good idea after all. It only caused trouble.

Maybe Escaflowne had been right. Not that he'd ever admit that of course. Not out loud, at least. Van finally and carefully retrieved his hand and offered the woman another hint of a smile. He hoped it looked genuine enough to convey everything he had just thought about because there wasn't really ever going to be a chance to talk about it again.

Van forced himself to leave but he could still feel the ghost of her touch on the back of his hand when he began to climb the palace steps. Rubbing the tingling spot across his trousers, he shook his head. Why was this bothering him so much though? What exactly was his problem?

Tbc…

A/N: Since this is an AU, I had to establish a lot and I hope it's not confusing so far. I'm pumped for modern high-society Gaea with olden timey influences and hope you are too.

[finn-nelson-for-the-win]

Changing Priority- Chapter 14

So I meant to post this yesterday, that way I would spread posting 3 new chapters over the span of 3 days…but after work and whatnot yesterday, I was way too tired to edit and post this. So yeah…I hope you enjoy this chapter and as always, thanks for reading/reblogging/liking/following/etc. and just basically boosting my ego and inspiring me to keep writing and posting for you all.

Chapters 1-13 can all be found right here!

Unfamiliar Territory

 Rae had spent all of Friday after she got off work trying to recover from her hangover and catch up on sleep, cleaning, and Netflix binge watching that she had been neglecting for the past week; however, this left Saturday as Rae’s only free day to run some necessary errands prior to the new semester of Uni beginning on Monday.

 After spending a couple hours tending to the plants in her garden on campus, Rae walked to the Campus Bookstore to purchase all of the necessary textbooks that she needed for the upcoming semester, at least according to her professors.

 Nine books…nine FUCKING BOOKS!?! ALL FOR ONE CLASS?

 “Ugh, you have to be shitting me…” Rae mumbled, earning a chuckle from one of the student workers at the bookstore that was restocking the books on a shelf a short distance from Rae.

 “Do you need help finding any of your books? I see you’ve amassed quite a collection already…” asked the short, lanky boy as he took a short break from placing books on the nearby shelf.

 “Uhm, yes, actually! This book right here, ‘Art Across Time: Volume B’…I know you guys have it brand new to purchase or rent, but do you have any used copies to purchase or rent? This one book costs more than I was planning to spend an all my books this semester, combined!” Rae replied incredulously.

 “Yikes, yeah, that book is a pricey one…unfortunately, if it isn’t on the shelves, we don’t have it. If you don’t wanna pay this much you might be able to find it online for cheaper, but I wouldn’t bet on it…”

 “Ah, I see…well, thank you anyways.” Rae said politely as she debated purchasing the book now or taking the risk of being unable to find it online.

 “Sorry I couldn’t really help, but let me know if you need any further help…”

 “Don’t worry about it and yeah, okay. Thank you!” Rae added, giving the worker a friendly smile, before deciding it best to get the textbook now regardless of the price.

 Rae walked out of the aisle of alphabetized books sorted by course titles AIS through ART and found an unattended counter to set down the growing pile of books she had been carrying to give her arms a rest before pulling her cell phone from her purse.

 Rae opened up her mobile banking app to ensure that she had enough money in her account to purchase all the textbooks she would be needing and gasped audibly when she noticed her account balance.

 Holy shit! It looks like the direct deposit from my tuition refund finally hit my account!

 Rae breathed a sigh of relief because her hard work the previous semester had paid off and she had not only received a high enough GPA to maintain her academic scholarship, but also to qualify for the tuition assistance her job offered. Between the two scholarships, Rae had more than enough money to cover all her expenses for this semester while still having a decent amount of money left over.

 Rae knew that it was already getting late and the bookstore would be closing soon, so she sighed and picked up the stack of books she was going to be purchasing before walking to the opposite side of the store.

 Well…so much for that tuition refund I got…

 Rae waited in line for the next available cashier to ring up her purchase and tried to mentally prepare herself to spend roughly three paychecks worth of money on a total of twelve textbooks.

 ***

 Rae had been putting off thinking about the current situation between her and Finn with some success over the past day and a half, but as she began the nearly hour long walk back to her apartment with her recently purchased textbooks, her thoughts began to wander.

 In a much more sober state of mind, Rae was not nearly as affected by what she had discovered while browsing Finn’s Instagram as she had been Thursday evening on the floor of Izzie’s kitchen, but she was still confused.

 As much as I love Izz and Archie, they’re too emotionally invested in Finn and me becoming a thing to give me a straight answer about all of the questions holding me back from making the first move with Finn.

 I need an unbiased opinion in the matter…

 As the sun continued setting, the chilly January evening air began to set in and Rae found that she was less than halfway to her apartment and her fingertips and the tip of her nose had nearly lost all feeling.

 I suppose I have nowhere else to be tonight, so I have some time to spare…

 Rae crossed the street a short distance up the road and walked towards the café that she had been frequenting for the past couple months. When she walked inside, she skipped the line that she would normally stand in and decided to grab a table and warm up a bit more before putting in her order.

 Shit! What if I see Eric the Barista today…will it be awkward?

 Rae pushed the thought to the back of her mind after a quick look toward the counter where the only employees she could see were a number of girls around Rae’s age and the man in his mid-forties that Rae has always assumed to be the owner or manager of the café.

 The warmth was slowly returning to Rae’s fingertips and rosy cheeks as she skimmed through the various required readings she had purchased or rented for all her classes. When Rae began to feel bad about loitering at the small table in the far corner of the café as she people-watched and took advantage of the coffee-scented warm atmosphere that had a vague familiarity to Rae, she decided that if she wanted to stay any longer, she needed to order something.

 Rae stood from the table and left all of her belongings behind to save her spot as she walked up to the counter with her credit card and cellphone in-hand.

 “Hello! Can I have a hot chai latte with soy milk?” Rae said to one of the female baristas behind the counter that she often saw when she came in before work most days.

 “Sure thing! For here, I’m assuming, since you have all your stuff over there, huh?” Rae chuckled and nodded as the barista entered Rae’s order into the machine in front of her, “And your name is…wait, I know it…don’t tell me…”

 “Rae!”

 “Seriously, Eric? I was just about to guess that!” the Barista jokingly complained as she wrote Rae’s name on the order.

 “Hey, Jessie, this drink is on me today…” Eric said to the barista that had taken Rae’s order as he walked up to the counter and gave Rae a toothy smile that made his simple steel lip ring stand out against his impossibly perfect, white teeth.

 “Ah, you’re too late, buddy!” Jessie replied as she handed Rae the receipt and her credit card back, “You’re all set, Rae. We’ll call your name at the other counter when your order is ready!”

 Rae thanked Jessie and gave Eric a small smile before walking back to her table in the far corner of the café.

 Almost as soon as Rae had sat back down and put her card back into her purse, she heard her phone buzz a few times against the table where she had set it down and she pressed the home button to unlock her phone.

Chloe: So guess who I just finished FaceTiming that is apparently much more up-to-date on the situation with your sexy coworker than me, your best friend for nearly a decade…

Chloe: No guesses?

Chloe: Abbie! I feel so out of the loop…is this punishment because my family went to Italy for Christmas and I couldn’t come visit you like we had considered back in August?

Rae: No, that’s not it at all. It’s just a lot to tell you about via text and I’ve been really busy with work lately. Plus, last I heard, you didn’t have internet access, so I didn’t know that FaceTiming or video chatting was an option for you.

Chloe: I was dying without internet and I felt so dead to the world, so I caved and paid a fucking insane amount of money to get wi-fi at our hotel for the rest of the week.

Chloe: We leave tomorrow, but maybe we can FaceTime tomorrow? Or once I’m back home if there’s a day we are both free? I want to know everything!

Rae: Yeah, I don’t know when I’ll be free since my classes start on Monday, but I’ll let you know.

Rae locked her phone and dropped it into her purse before sighing and covering her face with her hands.

 Chloe is probably the last person I want to discuss the whole situation with Finn with until I figure a few more things out.

 Rae was brought back from her thoughts by the sound of someone politely clearing their throat to get Rae’s attention. She lifted her head from where she had been resting on her hands to see Eric the Barista standing behind the chair opposite of her with her latte on a small plate in one hand and a small platter of various pastries in the other.

 “Oh! Were you calling my name? I didn’t even hear you, I’m so sorry…” Rae replied with an embarrassed smile as she removed her elbows from the small table to allow Eric to set down her drink.

 “Don’t worry about it! When I finished making your drink I saw that you were busy on your phone and I had a spare moment, so I decided to just bring your drink directly to you and greet you properly,” he replied with a shrug after setting her latte down before continuing, “I also wanted to drop these off for you…”

 Eric placed the small rectangular platter down on the table as well and Rae soon realized that the platter had a small slice of coffee cake, banana nut bread, and lemon poppy seed cake.

 “Oh, I didn’t order those…” Rae mumbled.

 Though they DO look really good…

 “I know, but I thought you seemed a little out of it today and thought you might like a little snack if you plan to stick around here sipping your latte for a while. I didn’t know what you liked, hence the variety, but they’re all fresh and I can assure you that they’re halfway decent!”

 “Thank you, Eric. That was really nice of you…completely unnecessary, but still nice,” Rae replied as she turned the plate to examine the different pastries, earning a chuckle and smile from Eric.

 “Eric, wait…” Rae found herself calling as Eric slowly turned to walk away from her table.

 What the fuck are you about to do, Rae…?

 Is this a good idea? Probably not. Will it make things any worse than they already are? Probably not…

 “Yes, Rae? Do you need anything else?” Eric asked, slipping back into customer service mode so fluidly it was clear to Rae that he had a lot of practice with this.

 “You mentioned that you had a spare moment…I don’t know if you had something else you needed to do or whatever, but uh…I could use the company, if you want to that is…these pastries are best when shared with a friend, right?”

 “I suppose I could stay and chat for a few minutes…” Eric said with a wide grin as he untied his apron and hung it over the back of the chair opposite Rae before taking a seat.

 “So Rae…if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were keeping tabs on me to ‘accidentally’ cross paths with me while I’m at work, since Saturday evenings aren’t your usual time for coffee…”

 “My ‘usual time’? Who is keeping tabs on who, now?” Eric laughed at how Rae had turned the tables on him, but she quickly continued, “I honestly didn’t even see you when I came in and then you just show up out of nowhere…”

 “Yeah, I actually spend most of my shifts in the back where the kitchen is. All these fresh baked pastries don’t bake themselves, you know!” Eric replied as he tore off a small piece of banana nut bread that Rae offered him on the plate and popped it into his mouth.

 “Huh, I never would have taken you for the baking type…they’re quite good though, so my compliments to the chef,” Rae added as she used a fork to cut off a small piece of the coffee cake and brought it into her mouth.

 “So how are you, Rae? Like I said earlier, you seem a little off…unless you frequently visit small coffee shops at night and sit with your head in your hands like you’re in the middle of a mental breakdown or an existential crisis..? Which if you do, that’s fine…I’ll only judge you a little bit…” Rae chuckled dryly because Eric was not far off from the truth, but his friendly tone seemed to be all the encouragement Rae needed to open up a bit more about what was on her mind.

 “Well I was walking past here and was really cold, so I came in to warm up. But you’re kind of right, I am a bit off, I suppose. I just have a lot on my mind and I’m trying to process everything but I’m not really making any progress.”

 “Would you care to elaborate at all, Rae? I’m a great listener, or so I’ve been told…”

 Rae looked up from her latte that she had been staring at for some time and saw Eric turned around slightly in his chair and having a silent conversation with Jessie from where she stood behind the counter.

 Less than a minute later, Jessie approached their shared table with a smug smile and placed a cup down in front of Eric before walking away.

 “I could feel a story coming on and I thought a cup of tea would pair nicely with whatever story you were about to tell me…” Eric relied when he noticed Rae’s look of confusion as he dropped the teabag into the cup of hot water to steep.

 “Ah, I see…well almost immediately before coming here I spent nearly a month’s rent on textbooks for the semester that starts on Monday at my Uni’s campus bookstore …which I’m not too thrilled about…”

 Eric nodded to show that he was still paying attention as he removed the teabag from his cup and took a cautious sip to avoid burning himself.

 “But mostly I’m just sort of…confused and maybe a bit…uhm, conflicted about something…”

 “About what?”

“Uh, about a boy…that I work with…”

“Ah, I see,” Eric replied as he took another sip of tea and tore off another small piece of banana nut break, “what is there to be confused or conflicted about?”

“Well I’ve been working with this guy for a few months now and I thought he was a total jerk at first, but slowly we became friends and I got to know him a bit…well long story short, I had a few friends insisting that he was flirting with me for a while before I even grew to like him and see him as more than just a coworker, but now I do like him…a lot…and I don’t know what to make of his feelings, since his actions have more or less remained unchanged and I am always getting mixed signals from this guy…”

 Rae had not intended to go into this much detail when telling Eric about everything that was on her mind, but as she sipped her chai latte and he drank his tea and they both nibbled on the pastries he had brought, the words kept coming and she told him almost every minute detail about the situation as Eric sat listening and reacting quietly when appropriate.

 “And so now there’s my childhood best mate, Chloe, the one I mentioned earlier…well, she wants to chat with me so I can fill her in on everything that is going on with my coworker and I don’t know what to say, you know? I obviously can’t say ‘oh he still flirts with me at work, but after I got shitfaced the other night I found him and his ex on Instagram and gave myself a panic attack because it seems like if he really liked me he would have made a move by now, since he’s had like two months to move on from his ex-girlfriend’ but I mean, that’s the truth…”

 Rae had run out of things to say and she sat in silence for a moment and took another sip of her drink that had cooled down a bit too much and was barely even warm at this point, but Rae was too distracted to notice or care.

 Eric sat in silence, nodding slightly as he drank the last bit of tea in his cup, processing everything that Rae had said and trying to gather his thoughts to say something.

 “Hmm…that’s quite a predicament you’re in, Rae…do you know what you’re planning to do or to tell her? Because it seems to me that before you can tell her what’s going on, it may be best for you to figure it out with yourself.”

 “I have no fucking clue what I should do at this point. This is all unfamiliar territory for me, Eric. I don’t really find myself being the object of men’s affections very often—if that’s even what this whole situation really is—so I’m still struggling to navigate my way through what everyone is telling me and how I feel.”

 “I find that very hard to believe, Rae, but okay…do you mind if I give you my input? A little bit of insight into the mind of a guy from the perspective of a guy…”

 “Not at all! Please, I’d greatly appreciate it actually, since I already know what everyone else I would talk to has to say about this whole thing.”

 “Well, I can’t speak for all guys, of course, but it seems to me like if he is stalling to avoid making the first move, it’s because he’s nervous that he’s going to screw it up. Based on everything you told me, I don’t doubt that this bloke is interested in you. But if he has been interested in you for a couple months now and it has mostly just been flirting, he’s probably in a similar position as you are and he’s trying to decide the best way to go about this that won’t backfire on him if you do not reciprocate his feelings…This coworker of yours seems kind of shy, so as a shy guy myself, I can tell you that it’s fucking nerve wracking when you finally decide to be more obvious with your flirting if you aren’t even sure that the person you’re flirting with will react well…” Eric looked away from Rae and began nervously examining his fingernails as he gently bit the inside of his bottom lip which made his lip ring wiggle in place slightly.

 “I suppose you could be right…it’s kind of reassuring to hear that someone like you who has never met my coworker and is not particularly biased is coming to the same conclusions as all my closest mates and coworkers. So clearly I’m not reading too much into things with him, right?”

 “Right! So if that is the case, he might need a little bit more confirmation from you that you are interested in him…I’m not saying that you need to make the first move or let him, uh, ‘whack it in you’ or, uhm, ‘explore your secret garden’ as some of your friends have suggested,” Eric began with an embarrassed chuckled before continuing, “but I think it could do both of you some good if you can both be more forward with your flirting just so you are both confident that the feelings are mutual.”

 “I think you’re right, Eric. Thank you for letting me vent and complain about the woes of my pathetic excuse of a love life to you.”

 “It’s been my pleasure, really. I really hope all this works out for you, Rae! I know it’s not my place to say this, but I just don’t want you to rush into anything you’re not ready for and I don’t want you to regret not doing anything, so I’d say just take your time figuring things out but let the pieces fall as they will and try not to force anything…If it’s meant to be, then it will be.” Eric gave Rae a smile and stood from his chair before putting his apron back on.

 Rae suddenly realized how long they had been talking for when she saw that the majority of the patrons who had filled the café before had left and they were down to a very small crew of employees who were mostly just talking behind the counter, since there were no new to customers to attend to at the moment.

 “I’m so sorry for keeping you so long! I hope you don’t get in trouble for taking such a long break instead of working!” Rae said with concern as Eric stacked the plates and cups they were now finished with for him to take away from the table.

 “In all honesty, I wasn’t even scheduled to work today, so I can’t imagine I’ll be in any trouble.”

 “If you aren’t supposed to be working, why are you here then?” Rae asked in confusion.

 “It’s kind of hard to say ‘no’ when your family owns the café…” Eric replied with a dramatic eye roll as he started walking away.

 Eric was a short distance from Rae’s table when he slowed to a stop and turned around, a look of hesitation and inner conflict obvious on his face before it was replaced with the toothy smile Rae was used to seeing on his face when he was taking customers’ orders.

 “I’m really glad I got to see you today, Rae. I hope everything works out how you want it to with your coworker, because I could tell how heavily the stress of all of that was weighing on you when you first got here. Be sure to come in and see me again sometime soon, okay Rae?” Eric gave Rae a quick wave with one hand before continuing his path towards the kitchen and disappearing behind a door.

 ***

 Sunday morning Rae had woken up in an unexpectedly good mood that she decided had to be attributed to her conversation with Eric the Barista the prior evening. Their discussion had given Rae a lot to consider, but more than anything, it had given her a new sense of clarity that certainly did not go unnoticed by her coworkers during her shift at work.

 “You certainly seem excited today, Rae. You do realize that the semester starts tomorrow, so what reason do you possibly have to be as happy as you are?” Archie asked with a joking scoff as he took a seat at the table Rae was sitting at in the break room.

 “Ugh, don’t remind me about classes starting. As it is, my bank account is still trying to recover from buying all the textbooks I’m going to need,” Rae said with a cringe.

 “If you truly must know, Archie, I am quite happy today I suppose…I just feel so at-ease with, well, everything.”

 Archie furrowed his eyebrows and gestured with his hand for Rae to continue, so she took a deep breath before continuing the conversation that she had known would be brought up at some point today.

 “So do you remember what I told you Friday at work about me drunk crying on Izzie’s kitchen floor on Thursday evening? Well, I basically gave myself a panic attack because I was overthinking the whole situation with…‘Alphonzo’…after I sort of stalked him and his ex-girlfriends’ Instagram pages…” Rae replied, trying to ignore Archie’s noticeable surprise as she casually told him more about her recent drunken antics.

 “So there’s that…and do you remember the guy from the café across the street that I mentioned had paid for my coffee and was flirting with me a bit…?”

 “Yes, I remember that too. I also remember the look of jealousy on Fi—Alphonzo’s face when you were talking about that, so if your goal was to make him jealous: mission accomplished! Seriously, he did not stop glancing over his shoulder at you for the rest of his shift on Friday and then—ugh, I really shouldn’t be telling you this, so you have to swear that you never heard it from me, okay?—and then yesterday he was asking me a bunch of questions about you and the barista you were talking about…”

 “Are you serious, right now? How did the even come up in conversation!? What kind of questions was he asking?” Rae asked slightly embarrassed that she had been a topic of conversation when she was not even at work.

 “Well someone else came in with a cup from the café and Peter and Melissa were chatting about what you had said and were wondering if ‘Rae’s not-so-secret admirer’ had been working or not and so he was asking me if I had ever seen the barista you were talking about, if I had ever gone to the café with you and seen you interact with this barista…If I thought you were interested in this barista more than you were letting on when you told the story…and he was asking me about whether or not I thought you liked how forward the barista was in terms of giving you free coffee and leaving a note on your coffee…stuff like that mostly. He was trying to be casual about it all, but I know him too well.” Archie replied with a self-satisfied smirk.

 “Wow…that’s kind of a great and crazy coincidence because yesterday evening I went to the café and I ended up talking to that barista, his name is Eric by the way, for like two hours…about Finn…”

 “Wait, so let me get this straight, Rae. You spent two hours last night talking and getting relationship advice about the bloke you like from a guy who two days prior gave you free coffee and flirted with you and professed his love for you in the form of a note on the side of your coffee cup…?”

 “Well, uh, sort of? I mean, he didn’t profess his love to me on my cup on Thursday! He just complimented me and told me how much his day is improved when he sees me come into the café…and…holy shit, I fucking friend-zoned this poor lad, didn’t I!?!”

 “It sort of seems like it, Rae. I mean this guy, Eric, clearly likes you enough that he wanted to give you free coffee and make sure that you knew how much he appreciates you coming into the café when he’s working…and then you pour your heart out to him about another guy…”

 “Aw, now I just feel like a terrible person, Arch! Eric was so supportive and he seemed happy for me because I was happy after talking it all through with him, but like, I’m pretty sure I would react the same way if I just got hardcore friend-zoned and wanted to play it cool…” Archie reached out a hand to pat Rae on the back to help soothe her as she continued, “Eric is like…really attractive, too! And he was so nice about everything and he didn’t even make the situation too weird or anything!”

 “That’s a good thing though, right? That Eric was able to put aside whatever feelings he may or may not have for you and give you genuine advice because he wants the best for you…”

 “Yeah, it was so nice getting the opinion of a guy on the whole situation with Finn…”

 “Uhm, excuse me? What am I if not a guy? A potato!”

 “That’s not what I meant, Arch, and you know it. I just meant a guy that wasn’t wrapped up in the whole situation and a close mutual friend of both people involved…”

 “I guess you have a fair point…” Archie said with a chuckle before realizing how much their conversation had veered off-topic, “Oh, so the reason you’re so happy today is…because you talked to your Barista Buddy and…?”

 “Oh, yeah! I talked to him about the whole situation and I feel like I have a good idea of what I need to do and how I can show ‘Alphonzo’ that I’m interested without putting myself out there too much and then at some point one of us will have to take the chance and make the first move, but I’m not as freaked out about all of this as I was up to that point.”

 By this point, Rae and Archie’s break had already ended, but they had simply continued their conversation back at their desks in hushed whispers to avoid being overheard.

 “So what now?”

 “Well, I guess I just sit back, relax, and wait for—“

 “Finn! Hi, how’s it going?” Archie called in greeting before sharing a nervous smile with Rae.

 “Hey, Archie. How are you this morning, Rae? You look really nice…are you dressed up today for something, or someone, special?” Finn asked as he took a seat at the empty desk on Rae’s left side, opposite of Archie.

 “Hiya Finn! And thank you, but do I really seem like the kind of girl that would dress up and alter my appearance for the benefit of another person?” Rae scoffed, feigning that she was offended at his implications but smiled as she continued, “I’m just giving you a hard time, Finn…I dressed up for myself today, mostly. It just feels nice to get dressed up and look pretty from time to time, I guess!”

 Rae looked down at her outfit as she adjusted the sleeves of her cardigan and plucked off imaginary bits of fluff and debris. Rae had paired one of her favorite dresses that had a very short multi-toned blue flowy skirt and a pale denim bustier top with navy blue tights, a long gray cardigan that was nearly longer than the dress itself, and neutral taupe ankle boots with a small, chunky heel. Rae’s hair, which she had straightened earlier that morning, was beginning to re-curl itself because of the humidity of the chilly January air, but it appeared to be done intentionally leaving Rae’s hair in bouncy, gentle purple waves opposed to her usual mess of ringlets and spiraling waves. She completed her look with very simple makeup, focusing mainly on drawing attention to her eyes and naturally long eyelashes and completing the look with subtle berry-toned lipstick.

 Rae seldom looked in the mirror and felt completely happy with the image staring back; however, Rae felt happy and she could see a uniquely happy glow in her appearance that made her feel truly beautiful today and it felt nice to know that others were beginning to take notice of the change as well.

 ***

Monday morning Rae awoke earlier than she would have liked and began reluctantly getting ready before beginning her hour-long walk from her apartment to campus.

 After taking her first Computer Programming course last semester, Rae’s interest in programming and design had been piqued; however, after sitting through an hour long class this morning in which the professor introduced the Programming for Media Arts course Rae was enrolled in this semester, she had a sinking suspicion that she would likely grow to love or hate this course, but it was entirely too early to tell which.

 Rae walked out of the building and had to stop to allow her eyes to adjust to the bright gray light of this overcast January morning after sitting in almost complete darkness during her programming class.

 When the brightness was more bearable, Rae pulled her phone from her pocket and began to check the time when she could vaguely hear someone calling her name.

 “Rae! Rae-Rae!”

 She looked up to see someone on a bicycle riding towards her that was waving with both hands to get her attention from some ways away. It was not until this person on their bike got much closer and Rae could make out the tattoos on their arms that were peeking out from the sleeves of their jacket and the messy brown hair tousled by the wind that she realized who had been trying to get her attention.

 “Good morning, Finn!” She called when he was only a short distance away from her.

 “Hey Rae! I’m running late but I’ll talk to you later…” Finn replied without slowing his speed, calling over his shoulder and trailing off as he rode his bike further out of earshot of Rae.

 What time is it?   10:09 AM…

 This is great…Finn is already nearly 10 minutes late for his shift to work and yet he still makes a point to say “hi” when he sees me.

 Rae did not even try to wipe the smile off her face as she walked to grab a chai latte from a coffee shop on campus before walking to work.

 Since it was Monday, Rae’s scheduled shift did not begin until noon, but as she walked into the office building that she worked on and it was still a quarter to eleven, Rae decided that it was better for her to be early to work and take the extra time to work on assignments for one of her online courses using the Wi-Fi at work rather than risk being late to work if she went back to her apartment or remained on campus.

 As Rae sat in the break room at work, scrolling through social media on her phone after figuring out which of her online classes would require more immediate attention, Rae began regretting her decision not to grab something to eat before walking to work. Between work and the three hour long Business Marketing class Rae had later that afternoon, she quickly realized that she likely would not have a chance to eat until after she was done with her class that evening.

 Rae was debating buying a snack from the vending machine in the break room when she heard the quiet scraping of a chair next to her being pulled out from under the table where she sat.

 “Hey there, Chop!”

 “How’s it going, Raemundo?” Chop replied as he used a fork he had grabbed from the drawer in the break room to stir the Cup of Noodles he had just pulled from the microwave.

 “It’s going,” Rae said, chuckling as a rogue noodle dangled from Chop’s mouth as he took the first bite of his noodle soup, “how are you today? Did you have any classes yet?”

 “I’m good, thanks!” Chops said before stopping to get another mouthful of noodles, “And nope, no classes today, but I’ve been at work since 8am! Do you have classes today?”

 “Yeah, I had class earlier this morning. And I have a two hour shift at work starting at noon and then class again after that…This semester has me constantly running back and forth between classes and work,” Rae explained with an annoyed eye roll.

 “That’s awful, Rae! I’m so sorry!”

 “It is what it is…”

 “It looks pretty cloudy outside today, I wonder if it’s going to rain,” Chop mused when there was a lull in the conversation as he looked out the window to the parking lot for their office.

 “I hope not! I’m walking back to campus after work,” Rae replied with a small frown after she looked outside the window as well and was fairly certain that it would begin raining within the hour.

 “Well, I can give you a ride! You said you’re working a two hour shift? We get off work at the same time!”

 “Thank you, Chop, but no thank you. You’re done for the day after this and I’d hate to put you out and make you go out of your way just to give me a ride to campus. I don’t think it’ll rain, or if it does, I’m sure it won’t be so much that I can’t walk the twenty minutes or so back to campus.”

 As if right on cue, mere moments after Rae decline Chop’s offer, a sudden boom of thunder followed by a downpour of rain began, making both Rae and Chop jump slightly out of surprise before chuckling at the irony of it all.

 “Uh, I’m sure the rain will stop soon…” Rae mumbled, not even fully believing her own words.

 “It’s no trouble, really. Finn and I live less than a mile from campus, so it’s not even going out of my way, honestly! Just let me know, okay? But if it is still raining after work, I will not take ‘no’ for an answer, Rae! I will be driving you to your next class because I simply cannot have my Raemundo walking in the rain!” Chop said as he pointed a finger at Rae, adding emphasis to the point he was trying to make.

 “Fine, but I’ll let you know if anything changes.” Rae replied as Chop threw away the empty Cup of Noodles container and waved goodbye to Rae before exiting the break room to get back to work.

Rae was still looking out the window at the rain pouring down and collecting in puddles that would undoubtedly flood the parking lot by the time the rain began to let up—if it let up—when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her from behind in a surprise hug.

 “Guess who…” Rae heard this person sing-song and Rae instantly smiled when she realized who it was.

 “Hmm…whoever could it be?” Rae replied with a chuckle as she turned her torso slightly to return the hug Rebecca was giving her.

“Are you on break or are you just coming in at noon?” Rebecca asked as she pulled out the chair Chop previous occupied and took a seat beside Rae.

 “I start at noon, but I’m only working for a couple hours”

 “Yay, we get off work at the same time! That’s perfect!” Rebecca exclaimed, nearly bouncing out of her chair with excitement.

 “Uh, what’s perfect?” Rae asked as she quirked an eye brow up in confusion.

 “I was just realizing how hungry I am and I don’t know if you have class immediately after work or not, but if you don’t…Will you do me the honor of being my lunch date today?”

 “I’d love to!” Rae said with a smile.

 “Splendid! I have to get back to work right now, but I’ll be waiting for you out here in the break room after work and we can go from here!”

 Rae waved goodbye to Rebecca and continued scrolling through social media on her phone until it was close enough to noon that she could justify logging into her computer and getting to work.

 Rae switched her cell phone to silent and walked into the main office area. After scanning her badge at the small machine on the wall, Rae began walking towards the closest open desk when she was very nearly knocked to the ground by someone who had hurriedly stood from their chair and began walking without watching where they were going.

 “Oh shit, my bad, girl! Are you alright?” Finn asked as he placed a hand on each of Rae’s shoulders to steady her after he had inadvertently collided with her.

 “Yeah, all good, Finn!” Rae replied with an embarrassed chuckle.

 “Phew, that’s a relief…I saw you today when I was riding my bike through the middle of campus on my way to work!”

 “I know. I saw you too,” Rae began with a small chuckle, “and said I ‘hi’…and then you said ‘hi’ and that you were running late and would talk to me later”

“Yeah, you didn’t seem to recognize me when I was first trying to catch your attention, so I was almost afraid that you weren’t really you or something!”

 “Nope, it was me, I was just distracted and when you were riding you bike I didn’t recognize you until you got a bit closer,” Rae chuckled nervously as Finn dropped his hands—which she just realized had been resting on her shoulders during their entire conversation—and gave her a quick smile before side-stepping to walk past her.

 Rae noticed that the desk beside Chop was empty, so she set her badge down on the desk and pulled out the chair to take a seat.

 “Long time no see, baby girl!” Chop called, giving Rae a wink as she began logging into her computer and Finn returned to his desk on the opposite side of Chop.

 “I know! I haven’t seen you in so long…how are you?” Rae replied catching on to the joke immediately.

 “I’m good thanks…not much has changed in the last, oh, twenty minutes,” Chop replied with a laugh.

 During this short exchange, Finn kept looking from Chop to Rae in confusion as he waited for them to explain what inside joke he was being left out of before finally Chop clarified.

 “Our Raemundo here was sitting in the break room before her shift and so I sat with her during my break and we were chatting a bit,”

 “Ah, I see.” Finn replied with a nod as he returned to work, only slightly averting his attention away from Chop and Rae’s conversation.

 “Which reminds me! While I appreciate the offer, Chop,” Rae began after quickly glancing over at Chop as she continued checking her email, “I made plans for lunch as soon as I get off work and they can give me a ride back to campus when we’re done. So I won’t be needing a ride after work. Thank you for offering though, Chop. That was really considerate of you!”

 “You, uh, you offered to give Rae a ride home from work today?” Finn asked unable to hide that he had been tuned into their conversation.

 “Well not home, because she has a class after her shift, but yeah! It started to rain really hard during my break and she and I get off work at the same so I just figured…”

 “Oh, no, that makes sense. That was nice of you Chop…The offer stands for me too, Girl. If you ever want me to give you a ride somewhere after work, just let me know!” Finn replied after quickly regaining his composure and shooting her a crooked grin.

 “Uhm, a ride on your bicycle?” Rae asked, raising her eye brows and unsuccessfully containing a smile.

 “No, of course not,” Finn mumbled as a blush spread across his cheeks, “I do have a car…I just didn’t want to drive my car and have to find parking if I only worked for a couple hours today…”

 “No need to justify yourself to me, Finn. I was just having a little fun with you,” Rae replied with a smirk which only caused Finn to blush a deeper shade of red and seem more embarrassed as he nervously bit his lower lip, “I appreciate the offer nonetheless and I’ll be sure to keep it in mind, thanks!”

 The clocks on the wall chimed, signaling that it was officially noon, and Finn stood from his desk chair and began walking toward the exit, turning back to give Chop a nod and Rae a wave and small smile before walking out of the building.

@eveerez @tinakegg @hey1tskat1e @bitchesbecrazy89 @kneekeyta @milllott @protectfinnnelson @arathewallflower @jackiewalsh2013 @pink-royaute @i-dream-of-emus @lurkernolonger @bitchy-broken @nutinanutshell @mallyallyandra @borntosik

A/N: Hello, my darlings! Okay, forreal though: what did you all think of how savagely Rae *accidentally* friend-zoned Eric the Barista by venting about all her boy troubles? (This was certainly not my proudest moment, I must admit...) 😅😬😅 Do you still think Eric poses any threat to Finn's chances with Rae after reading this chapter? 🤔 I know some of you were probably worried about that possibility after I introduced him into the story in Chapter 12...

The end is nigh (just kidding...sort of...) and there's only one more chapter to be posted this week, probably late tonight or early tomorrow morning. Big things are in the works and there's a lot of stuff happening both in this story line and in my real life, but yeah...this should be fun. 😅

I look forward to hearing what you all think of this chapter and the next one to come...14 chapters down, and 1 more to go (for now)...let's do this shit! 😁

[hush-falls-the-evening]

Convergence - Ch. 1

Characters: Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma (scriddler), Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley, Selina Kyle, 

Rating: G Words: 2671

Misc Info: Scriddler - Dancer au. Based on a post where Jon is a ballet performer and Edward is a renown critic in Gotham City.

Synopsis: Nygma rarely compliments anyone in his articles, but the one time he does, it isn't as welcomed as he expected it to be.

You can find the rest of the fic here on AO3

Gotham city was fortunate enough to have accumulated several generous benefactors over the last decades. Sponsoring diverse projects and encouraging the development of culture in various forms.

Some rich and famous names might come to mind, for those who cared. The reality being that as long as people were entertained, they tended to ask very little about where the funds came from, and more about the very shiny signs announcing the shows on popular venues.

It wasn’t unusual for many shows to be performed through the several theaters and stages of the city. But tonight, and for the next months to come, Jonathan’s new company was performing in an admittedly more modest one. One of these, older establishments that couldn’t quite fit as many spectators as the Grand Theater of Gotham, but its fading glory still held an aura of authenticity and… dare he say mysticism, that modern stages couldn’t recreate.

It felt comforting.

Besides, funds, sponsors and whatnot, Contemporary ballet was an everlasting style in development, hence its name. It was an acquired taste as well, and required a lot of observation to catch all its nuances, but said subtleties needed to be conveyed properly to be felt. These two factors made rather difficult to make any significant progress as far as the techniques were concerned. People wanted easy entertainments. To be amazed, to be held in a moment and carried through time and space-….

There were a few knocks on the door. He said nothing until a second series of them were heard. He stopped staring at his reflection and finally complied. “Come in, Harley.”

A blonde hair practically popped from the door, a devilish smile and twinkles in her eyes. ”Just checking in to see if you’re all set. The show starts in 30 minutes and we’ll spray-paint the people who tries to get in after that!”

“You shouldn’t spray-paint the guests, Harley. That’s some other show’s gimmick already.”

“That’s what Red says, but where’s the fun in not threatening rude patrons with the fear of ruining their nice suits?”

Jon gave her a look, and turned back to the mirror. “Where indeed, although for greater effect I’d recommend telling them they might be hustled onto the stage for the group choreography if they try to leave.” His lips were tugging slightly upward, though he felt compelled to remain serious. “You’re trying to ease some of my tension, aren’t you?” it wasn’t an accusation as much as an ironic remark. She pushed expertly her flashy red glasses further up her nose.

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Like a charm.”

She posed triumphantly in the door frame, fully opening the door for dramatic effect. Jon would roll his eyes, had it been anyone else. “Come back later when the number before mime starts. I’ll…. psych up, as we’ve discussed.”

She nodded and grabbed the door handle. “… Need me to turn off the light?”

Again, his lips tugged. A quick scan of the various items on his vanity proved that everything was set. “That would be appreciated, thank you.”

The switch was turned off, and the door closed. He heard the distant chatter of the nearby dancers and the squeaking of her lucky shoes.

A tall, gangly man was sitting in the dark, the bulbs of the vanity lighting ominously his shape. And with slow, meticulous care, he began his preparations.

If anything could describe Gothamites best, it would be their simultaneous appeal for modernism and their compulsive urge to return to the aesthetics of the noir movie genre….. Leaving it perpetually locked in a neo and retro phase that was now festering over 80% of the structures in the city and some of its unfortunate newer suburbs.

Edward Nygma, undoubtedly the advisable cultural critic in the city and beyond, found it incredibly redundant, and morose.

But he had to admit, there was just this inexplicable charm to Gotham that slowly swallowed you whole and made you run its maze willingly in the dark of the night. It grew on you, and left you with a taste that moving elsewhere brighter or warmer would just feel deeply wrong.

Oh but its people. Redundant and morose sadly applied to them as well. Truly a similar case as the new European bourgeoisie in the beginning of the XXe century, where they knew nothing of the arts but attended shows because it felt prestigious to do so, understanding be damned. Interest be damned.

How baffling was it that you had all this available access to arts and knowledge and somehow only notice how flashy and brights the lights were and nothing of the lines and precision. Trying to have any sort of intellectual conversation with most everyone felt unsatisfactory and they’ll tell you the most obvious details of a performance without noticing the deeply profound details or excruciating flaws. They fell for the easiest tricks, who were admittedly sometimes brilliant if you actually knew they WERE tricks but that was still incredibly debilitating.

Of course, Edward Nygma knew better.

And in his generous benevolence, he wrote fervently about it, which made him one of the best critics on this side of the country.

The fact that he received both gifts or threats via his carefully sorted fan mail only told him he was making a good deed.

He was fairly informed about all the shows of any relevance and tonight was no exceptions. Although contemporary ballet was not his favored form of art, his career as a ‘retired’ classical ballet dancer and incredible memory enabled him to know basically everything about it.

But tonight, he had been personally invited by one of the company’s manager, and old friend, Ms. Quinzel, to assist at the premiere of their new series of weekly productions. It was, somewhat of a loose interpretive project, mostly in preparation for their bigger event in a couple of months.

The company was composed of a few dancers from in and outside of Gotham. One in particular, they barely managed to recruit.

“and why is that?” he asked her on the phone, twirling a green pen in his hand.

“Oh we’re from the same program, remember the psychology-dance fusion from a few years back? He was one of the first in it before it was shut down. He’s... pretty obscure, but I’ve seen what he can do and he’s been moving from company to company for the past couple of years so it was kinda hard to convince him to come back to Gotham. He’s from Georgia I think, but that’s all I’m gonna say since I know you like to see the artists first before doing your researches.” The wink was almost audible.

Oh great, a Georgia man.

However she was right. He preferred to see the performance beforehand as to not cloud his judgement.

And here he was, in this old-fashioned theater, rambling the wait away. His friend Selina had graciously accepted to join him, as she was a passionate dancer of her own, and endlessly insightful in the matter.

Their pleasant chatting ended much too soon, as the lights dimmed in the soft warmth only older establishments could provide, and all of Edward’s focus locked onto the stage.

“Ok so, Leone’s on stage right now, that means we’re two numbers away, right?”

“Yeah and before us it’s hm…. What’s his name again?”

“Crane, the tall fella who was in Opal City last year. Worked with some guy named Swift I heard”

“Oh yeah, I heard about that! Weird show-.”

Someone with a headset popped from a closed door, eyes and smile unnervingly threatening. “If I can hear you guys, the whole backstage can too! You move somewhere else to talk or you get on standby ASAP!”

The chatty bunch moved quickly, as Harley huffed and inhaled broadly. She was on her way to go get Jon, and rose her hand to do her signature knocking on the door, when it opened on its own. The room dark and dramatic, with lights flooding inside and over an eerie silhouette holding the door.

“Shucks Jon you gotta show me how you did that,” she said in awe after a while, trying to calm her thrilled heartbeat, “Your turn is up, by the way. Five minutes Standby, come on let’s go!” she urged him along and he followed her, his mind already on the stage.

Stage fright was a fascinating phenomena.

Some have it regardless of situation, some have it only when they’re alone on a stage but not with several people with them, some have it the other way around…

But there was just something so emetic, so vulnerable and purgative about dancing.

For Jon at least, and so he had spent many years working to refine his mastery of it.

And how all of it could hold onto the palm of his hands. Their eyes, their hearts, the air they breathe…

Survive to control. Control to survive.

It was dancing over the edge of a great fall, with the lights blinding and an eternity of power and soul in your chest.

Someone had told him once, his performances were some weird style nobody could really pull off like he did.

And he agreed with the sentiment.

Nobody could, but the Master of Fear.

And what else could move him more, but fright itself.

There was a thunder of applause after each numbers afterward, but Edward didn’t seemed to hear none of them. And as the producers and managers of the show came last onto the stage to invite the patrons for next week’s performance, same place same time, he felt the touch of a hand over his arm.

“Edward darling, your face is going to stay like that if you keep frowning so hard,” She teased. He seemed visibly unsettled.

It took him 2 seconds too long to answer. “Marvelous...” His words were baffled, his face positively puzzled.

It took her a moment as well, but still attempted a wild guess. “The tall man with the crooked nose?”

“ The tall man with a crooked-! Oh truly my dear, you are disappointing me.”

She tilted her head warily. “What did you see, Edward?”

He frowned again until he understood the true nature of her inquiry, which he brushed off with impatience. “No, that man. I’ve- I don’t think I’ve seen anything as marvelous, as elegant and memorable as his number since the time I was still on stage!”

“Glad to hear,” she replied, slightly wounded but mostly used to it.

“Selina now is not the time, I’m going to meet him, right now.” He rose to his feet with a single goal in mind. She, however, jammed her crossed leg more firmly in the front seat to block his path.

“Edward.”

“Selina.”

“I understand you got that whole shtick of yours to be done, but after a show is hardly the place-”

“What on Earth are you talking about? His placements were perfect! His influences are not only clear, but innovative! He practically haunted the stage and I-” He finally caught up with the ridicule of his situation, stared down at the elegant leg barring his way and turned around to march toward the other end of the row. His steps were quick enough to get him to the backstage in no time, and he began to look around for-

“Can I help you sir?” One headset crew asked him, eyeing him evenly.

“Yes, I’m searching for this mister Crane-”

“Oh he left already. You just missed him.”

A door swung open with brightly dressed Harleen Quinzel, talking over her shoulder. “Jon wait for us I just gotta chat with Marv-” She stopped short, processing who was in front of her until she connected the dots. “ -You came!"

“I did! I know I’ll tell you all about it, just gimme a second-” he practically slid past her. Harley spun on herself in a cartoony way for comical effect.

A few steps further and here was the man of the hour. If he stared, he did not take notice of it. “You!”

The man said nothing, but frowned severely.

“I’m so glad I caught you, my friend. You have no idea how fulfilling your act was, how marvelous! The lines, the drive- I’m not a man of contemporary ballet myself, but this was beyond words!”

“Much obliged,” he mumbled. Edward was too lost to pick on the cold and sharper demeanor the man had, the more he talked. How his eyes would cut him to pieces if it made him go away.

“And you’re welcomed! Truly I don’t think I’ve been so impressed by anyone before-”

“I’m sure a chat would be nice, sir, but you are not welcomed here.”

“Don’t be absurd, you’re not the ONLY one I came to see here tonight,” he huffed.

He was starting to lose his footings, but the coup de grace must had been when those pale thin lips stretched into one cruel line. Only then did he notice just how, unnervingly sharp his pale eyes were on him.

“And why should I care about the opinion of a generic, self-proclaimed fool of importance who wears a tacky green three-piece suit in the summer?”

This wasn’t any unusual things hadn't heard in the past. But he couldn’t help feeling taken aback, especially to hear it coming from this... Unnerving man.

The whole venture seemed rather foolish, in retrospective.

The silence stretched, and Crane tilted his head, as if to feast on the speechless wrecked he’d become. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have important things to do” he said softly, but loud enough for the whole room to hear. Only then did Edward realized that they had been the center of the attention, as there had been other people in the room, staring in bewilderment.

They seemed to know who Edward was, but Jon gave no such thing as a clue of reminiscence. Instead, he eerily moved to pick a bottle from an ice bucket and walked out as if he had never been there in the first place.

Edward wasn’t sure how he got out of the theater, but he suspected Selina had indeed waited for him, or did some investigation of her own to pick up the pieces.

“Who does he think he is!”

“I told you not to go in there, didn’t I?”

“But I never go congratulate anyone like this and have it just, thrown back in my face like that? What kind of rude, careless person would practically brush me off like I wasn’t the best ally any artist could have in this city!”

“You didn’t write anything about him, did you?”

“Of course not, I would remember such a name.”

She observed him a while longer, her words curious. “He really got to you, didn’t he?”

He glared at her. She batted her beautiful eyes with a knowing smile.

And now back home, Edward stared at the screen, frowning deeply.

Time to get to work.

And work he did diligently, as per his usual dedication. The article was written and complete within the earliest hours, and properly fact-checked by dawn.

It felt strange, the more he tried to avoid writing about the tall man, the more he wrote about it.

But as he reviewed the completed article, it felt more accurate than anything he’d written so far. Well, maybe not anything. That article from last April might be the most accurate. But, nonetheless....

He prided himself to be nothing but exact in his critics.

And as he finally sent the review, research done, evening past, it unnerved him just how little information he had actually gathered about the man himself.

He opened a new tab, and started reading all over again.

What a strange, peculiar man.

[samanthasroberts]

Why Did It Take America So Long to Have Female Bartenders?

On Oct. 17, 1891, “Colonel” William Heyward, owner of the Standard Buffet at 231 Broadway in New York City, across the street from the old Post Office (now replaced by City Hall Park), explained to his head bartender that he was going to replace the latter’s subordinates with a quartet of barmaids brought in from London and asked him to train them in the intricacies of American mixology and supervise their work.

Nobody in the world was better fitted to that task than the man before him. William Schmidt, alias “the Only William,” was the most celebrated bartender and mixologist in America, a consummate artist at mixing drinks and, equally important, an eloquent and precise explainer of the intricacies of his art. Indeed, at the time, he was on the verge of publishing The Flowing Bowl, his landmark book dedicated to the topic.

With William’s tutelage and recipes and the charm and brisk efficiency characteristic of British barmaids, the Standard Buffet would be packing them in with a trowel. There was only one problem: William would have none of it. “He could not afford to endanger his professional standing by consenting to work as [the barmaids’] director,” he told the Colonel. That same night, his last at the bar, he told his regulars simply, “I will not stand behind the bar with a lady.”

He was a little more voluble to the press, as was his wont. “English barmaids can draw ale, but do you think that all of them put together could mix a ‘La Premier’ that would be fit to drink? And how about a ‘Life Prolonger,’ ‘Anticipation,’ ‘Sweet Recollections,’ Brain Dusters’ and ‘Canary Birds.’ Could they mix them?”

Now, this was as fair as it was strictly grammatical, which is to say not much. No barman in America would be able to mix those drinks either, not unless William taught him, since they were all his original creations and none had as yet appeared in print. But playing fair was not the traditional American way when it came to women and bars.

In England, when one entered an alehouse, coffeehouse, tavern, or inn—anywhere drinks were sold across a bar—it was customary since time immemorial to see a woman behind that bar. She pulled the pints of ale, opened the bottles of wine, poured the drams of brandy, rum or gin and even mixed the Punch, Gin Twist and other typical English drinks.

In fact, it was women who made the first experiment in modern bartending possible, when James Ashley decided that all the Punch sold at his new London Coffee House would be mixed to order in front of his customers, and that he would sell it in quantities as small as a “tiff” (basically, a juice glass). Ashley was the host, but his head barkeeper, Mrs. Gaywood (alas her first name has yet to be uncovered), and her crew of young women did all the actual mixing and serving of drinks, and collected all the money for it. That was in 1731.

Yet when the next major advance in the art occurred, which saw ice incorporated into the drinks and a far greater variety of individual beverages mixed to order, women were almost entirely absent. That took place in America, in the opening decades of the nineteenth century. There, women had been excluded from behind the bar since Colonial days. Certainly, by the beginning of the nineteenth century the barmaid was, as one American who came across them in England noted in 1826, “a character rarely known in the United States.” Where one was found, what’s more, it was generally considered to speak badly for both her character and that of the bar. That taboo—sometimes, in some places made explicit by law, otherwise “merely” customary—lasted until the 1960s as a general matter, albeit with ever more frequent exceptions, and it still lingers to this day in dark, festering little pockets of the bar world.

Unfortunately, bartending as a profession hasn’t received the historical study warranted by its longstanding importance in daily life (and here I’m not just talking about mine). I know of no book dedicated to this precise historical conundrum—why were there no barmaids in America?—and at this remove it remains a riddle. At the time, even Schmidt, the most floridly articulate of nineteenth-century bartenders, when pressed to justify his belief that “it was wrong to intrust [sic] ladies with the tools of his trade,” could only offer the tautology, “I don’t think that their place is behind the bar” because “behind the bar is no place for a woman,” and mutter darkly that “I doubt that any barmaid will ever succeed in making a good mixed drink.”

It would have been good if one of the journalists who seemingly hung on William’s every word had persuaded him to expound on those reasons. For the first, the idea that behind the bar is no place for a woman, he would have probably said something like this:

“Here in America our bars are rather rough places, even the fanciest ones, and always have been. There’s drinking, of course, and you know how that makes men act, and there’s usually some gambling going on, whether it’s euchre or faro tables or just dicing for drinks. There’s smoking and spitting and Lord knows there’s foul language and all kinds of other swinish behavior, from pissing in the cuspidors to passing out drunk on the floor to gut-puking and worse. And that isn’t the worst of it—there’s also the fisticuffs and the flying chairs and the gunplay. People get shot in our bars. We don’t want to subject women to that, or any of these things.” (Okay, he wouldn’t have mentioned the pissing and the puking, but no doubt he would have thought about them.)

There is some truth in this. American bars were rough. The American propensity to haul out a gun and say it with lead is nothing new, and even a marble palace of mixology such as San Francisco’s Bank Exchange Saloon, the home of Pisco Punch, had the occasional shooting, like when someone put a bullet through Joseph Hayes’ brain at 7:30 one Monday evening in 1888 (nobody didn’t see nuttin’). As for the smoking and spitting and swearing and gambling and whatnot, well, sure.

But men smoked in England, gambled there, drank and behaved badly there and the barmaids managed to take it in stride. (Fine, the spitting was a purely American thing, caused by our habit of chewing on plugs of tobacco.) And if there was less shooting, there was still some. And back in the eighteenth century, when every would-be gentleman carried a lethal little stabbing sword at all times, English bars had witnessed a shocking amount of bloodshed, and the barmaids managed to survive that well enough.

But you didn’t have to go all the way to England to find female bartenders thriving. America is a big place and American women are plenty tough and determined. Despite custom and law and all those men, some women always found their way behind the bar.

A thorough examination of the lives and careers of these pioneers deserves a whole book, not a couple of paragraphs in a drink column, and I hope one day soon they will get one.

In the meanwhile, a few names that would have to be included.

One would need to begin with Catherine “Kitty” Hustler (1762-1832), who was immortalized (as “Betty Flanagan”) by James Fenimore Cooper in his 1821 novel, The Spy, set during the Revolution in the so-called Neutral Ground that lay in Westchester County, New York, between the British lines and the American ones to their north. Born Catherine Cherry in Pennsylvania, she married Thomas Hustler, a Continental soldier, in 1777 and—the important part—supposedly kept a tavern in the Neutral Ground (that part is hard to document, understandably), where she either invented or helped to spread that quintessential American drink: the cocktail. She was keeping a tavern outside Buffalo when Cooper met her in the 1810s.

Then there’s Martha King Niblo (1802-1851). Born in New York City to a porterhouse-keeper, she grew up in the trade (one of the only sanctioned paths for women to work behind the bar was as part of a family business, a fact which, in the 1850s, led Fritz Adolphy, a St. Louis beer-garden proprietor, to legally adopt all 90 of his barmaids when the city fathers moved to get rid of them). When her husband, William Niblo, opened “Niblo’s Garden,” an outdoor space dedicated to music, relaxation and refreshments north of the city in what is now SoHo, Martha ran the bar. She may also have invented the mighty Sherry Cobbler, one of the most popular drinks of the nineteenth century. She certainly took a large hand in popularizing it.

San Francisco would deserve a chapter of its own, covering everything from the saloon where, as a British traveler found in 1853, “three comely-looking American girls tend bar, and are deep in the mystery of making rum punches, brandy smashers and gin cocktails,” to—well, you could take your pick. San Francisco in the early days was a wide-open town, where standard American norms and taboos were very much open to renegotiation and, in 1852, of the 127 retail liquor establishments listed in the City Directory, 20 were kept by women. Now, the majority of these were in the “Barbary Coast,” the city’s rowdy vice district, and were probably, let us say, extended-service establishments. But they also included bars like Mrs. Waters’ Arcade, which featured concerts, Mrs. Whitney’s large saloon, on Commercial Street, and above all Ellen Moon’s Cottage, on California Street. Mrs. Moon, a Welshwoman who came to the city from Australia, was something of a local fixture, running first the Cottage and then the much-beloved Ivy Green, on Merchant Street, until her suicide in the 1863.

One could go on: Why shouldn’t there be some recognition of women, such as Christiana Berresheim, in 1911 the oldest barmaid in Massachusetts and the only one in Boston; the “smart, dashing” Kate McMillen of Cincinnati; or even poor Jane Robinson, shot to death behind the bar of her and her husband’s saloon in Dennison, Ohio, in 1882?

Of course, these are the rare exception; their names only recoverable now with much digging, but they were known in their day and are enough to have proven to someone like William that women could do the job. Nor were those bad conditions William and his ilk deplored immutable. That is proved handily by the experience of one San Francisco saloonkeeper who, in 1886, installed behind the bar of his large establishment on Fourth Street a young woman who was ready “with a demure look and a condescending smile for the highly respectable habitués of the place, and a mixed air of superiority and indifference for ordinary ‘drunks’ and loudly dressed ‘dudes.’”

“No ruffianism,” he told a reporter, “no loud swearing or vulgar language, no fights or glass breaking are ever seen or heard in my place nowadays, and I attribute the peaceful and church-like state of things to the presence of my lady bartender, while at the same time I never did a better business.”

This suggests that what was really keeping the women out was the fact that whatever men said, they didn’t want to clean up their behavior and they were keeping the women out so they didn’t have to.

But that’s too simple and puts women on a pedestal. As our Fourth Street saloonkeeper noted, “of course there are girls and girls,” and there were plenty working behind the bar who would, if anything, have encouraged rowdy behavior.

So far we’ve just been talking about women in the “respectable” saloons. There were also plenty of women working in low dives, tough women such as Frances Schultze and her barkeeper, Martha Zutgesell, who beat the hell out of a strike-breaking cop when he tried to drag a striker out of their Chicago saloon in 1903. Or Jane Hynard, Mary Miller and “Bertha,” all hauled in on the same night in 1879 (from separate bars) for breaking the New York Excise law, or Salina Freeman, an African-American bartender from Richmond, who, in 1900, got fined $10 for sparking a five-way rumble in another saloon.

In fact, the further down the socioeconomic scale one goes, the more one is likely to find a woman behind the bar, which—those bars not coincidentally being the most dangerous, although often not by a lot—neatly turns the “no place for a woman” argument on its head.

That leaves us with William’s other argument: that women were incapable of mastering the intricacies of the craft. Here, he did actually attempt to explain what he meant:

“I do not think that a bartender should be merely a beer slinger… I believe that a conscientious bartender, who knows his business, should have a higher aim than simply mixing drinks. It is his privilege to prescribe for his customers the drinks that will suit them best the different hours of the day. The art of properly mixing drinks and calculating their effect is a delicate one, and much too difficult for ladies to learn.”

I’d like to hear what Mrs. Gaywood or Martha King Niblo would have to say to such obvious horseshit. I’m sure Lottie Brummer and her sister Annie, Nellie Lanhan and Maggie Connolly, Col. Haywood’s four barmaids, had a good laugh at it and all or William’s other fulminations. Sure, it took them a little while to get up to speed. But after a week training with one Sam Bergen, who taught them the basic recipes, and another week or two of practice, they did just fine.

“American drinks?” one of them told a reporter from the New York Sun a month into the gig, “Oh, we’ve found them no trouble… American drinks are very easy to make, really. As for cocktails—and those we find are the most common drinks by far—we learned to make them in no time. We’ve also learned all about fizzes, and, in fact, everything that has ever been called for.”

The only thing that gave them any trouble was a popular bit of foolishness known as the Pousse Café, which involved layering various spirits and liqueurs on top of one another in a tiny cordial glass. To be honest, that one gives me more than a little trouble, too. I’ll bet it even vexes a modern bar-master like Jeffrey Morgenthaler or Ivy Mix, maybe just a bit.

And yet Schmidt kept claiming that he wanted women out from behind the bar because they couldn’t mix the drinks. Indeed, years later, he convinced another reporter from the Sun, too lazy to double check thing in the paper’s morgue, that the women actually “gave up in despair” when confronted with orders for the various American drinks, rather than mixing them to their customers’ satisfaction, which is what really happened. (As far as I can determine, the women lasted at the bar until sometime in mid-1892, when Hayward ran into some of his periodic business problems; eventually he and William were reunited.)

So if it wasn’t about mixing drinks, and it wasn’t about protecting the precious flower of American womanhood from the foul atmosphere of the bar, what was the taboo against barmaids about?

Any answer, I think, would have to be sketched out along these lines. During Colonial times, men fell into the job of tending bar, particularly in parts of the country where women were in short supply. With the diminished class system that prevailed over here, it wasn’t seen as a somehow degrading or unmanly service job. It was seen for what it was, a moneymaking job with a fair amount of independence and just enough craft to earn its expert practitioners the respect of a nice-sized chunk of the populace. The more men mystified that craft part of the job by mixing up outlandish concoctions, tossing drinks between cups in long liquid arcs, dashing this and that into the glass with knowing winks, setting things on fire, so on and so forth, the more they could justify their high pay—and their exclusive possession of the job.

Having spent an inordinate amount of time at modern craft cocktail bars, most of which (but, shamefully, not all of which) have no problem at all placing women behind the bar, I can confidently state that they’re fully as capable of mystifying the craft with pointless razzle-dazzle as the men are. And that, I believe, is progress.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/why-did-it-take-america-so-long-to-have-female-bartenders/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/05/26/why-did-it-take-america-so-long-to-have-female-bartenders/