#in your queue shall burn

[burncdheart]

@ancientforgcd asked: "Say, why don't we carry on this delightful conversation over a cocktail?" -Kiana First Meetings Sentences, Vol. 3 - always accepted

Was she the only one who found this conversation everything but pleasant? This could come from her lack of wanting to interact with people. Her master had told her to stay away from strangers, they all would just take her into a world of despair with their perfectly waved lies.

The thought alone caused her to shake her head forcefully in order to ban his words into the depths of her mind. Hopefully so deep back that those words would choke out and never resound within her anymore. What a pain. Even after she finally gained freedom, he was this speck of annoyance she didn't need at all.

She sighed after a while - she had promised to try and be nicer to people. So perhaps, she should just accept. "There is a tavern with a lot of cats around, I heard in mixed drinks just like cocktails they got the best in Mondstadt.".

[burncdheart]

“Oh please. Do I look like I’d step this low? I'm certainly no thief!”, she claimed rather loudly, while waving with her right hand as if swatting away some invisible bug away. Hadn't she already agreed, she might have declined right in this moment. Her arms crossed in front of her chest, eyes scanning the woman in front of her from head to toe as if trying to find any signs of traps.

The ginger wasn’t naive, there were those who’d ask for help without needing such. However, she decided quickly that there was nothing to be concerned about right in this moment. So she finally moved by standing up from her seating place, hands patting the wine red cloak in order to knock off any dirt from it.

While not minding such, appearance still held a great importance to her. “So, ma’am. Care to tell me a bit more about it? Like, what exactly are we looking for? Y’know, can’t do stuff without really knowing what this is all about.”.

“If it is too much trouble then there is no need to assist me.” 

Perhaps she had misunderstood the current situation. It’s clear that the other party is not especially keen on assisting her. It is a small enough issue she can resolve on her own. There is no need to involve someone that doesn’t want to be involved. Though it would be quite troublesome to do it on her own. It is not a particularly noble thing to do, but perhaps she could incite the other into helping her.

“Of course, there is also the possibility that you might have stolen it. Though, I presume I am wrong.”

Beryl narrows her eyes slightly. Perhaps her approach ought to be less manipulative and more sincere, but it’s important for her to get her belongings back in her possession. She can give details once she’s secured the other’s cooperation. 

“Regardless, I would appreciate your assistance in this small matter.” 

[bethanydelleman]

Can you rank the Austen men from most to least likely to be unfaithful to their wives?

Ya people with your great questions messing up my carefully organized queue... lol, who am I kidding I have no organization. Excellent question!

I honestly believe that Jane Austen wrote and imagined these men as faithful, but given their personalities, moral codes, and circumstances, I shall sort them into two buckets, More Likely and Not Likely

Not Likely:

Fitzwilliam Darcy - I buy the argument that Darcy is demisexual, so I don't think he seeks out sex without emotional attachment and he'd definitely consider an emotional attachment cheating. I doubt he's a virgin, but I think he'd be faithful when married.

Edward Ferrars - he may have accidentally fallen in love while engaged, but he remained faithful to a woman he didn't even like. I cannot see him cheating on Elinor in a million years. Also, with his profession and dislike of London, he has low accessibility (a big factor in cheating).

George Knightley - perfectly content to mostly stay at home and hang out with Emma and her dad. I can't say he's ever seemed terribly sex motivated to me. Also, rarely leaves Highbury so low access.

Henry Tilney - My best boy would never do that to Catherine!

Colonel Brandon - No one in the history of the earth has ever exuded such a strong monogamous vibe. It is Marianne Dashwood or NO ONE.

More Likely:

Captain Wentworth - I think it really depends if Anne is able to travel with him. I'm mostly putting him here because I do get the feeling he has a fairly high sex drive and the navy means long separations and high availability. If Anne is pregnant or has children, traveling with him may be difficult or impossible. Emotionally though, he's all Anne.

Edmund Bertram - He'd feel very bad about it afterwards, but I can see it.

Charles Bingley - Sorry dude, again, I can see it. The fact that he constantly falls in love worries me. I do think he's too nice to ever let Jane find out.

Hm, those are just the heroes. Here are some bonus guys rapid fire:

Cheating/Cheated:

Willoughby, Wickham (canonically), Sir Thomas (hinted canon), Frank Churchill, Mr. Rushworth (Maria told him to), William Elliot, Robert Ferrars (ego boost), Sir Walter (his kids are too well spaced), General Tilney

Not Cheating:

Sir John Middleton (actively having babies), Dr. Grant (too lazy), John Knightley (he would never), Robert Martin (he would never!), John Dashwood (fears Fanny), Mr. Bennet (canon), Thomas Palmer, Mr. Elton, Mr. Collins (fears reputation damage), Admiral Croft (too in love), Captain Harville (ditto), Charles Musgrove (burns his energy hunting), Mr. Woodhouse (can't even imagine), Mr. Price

Not Included: Henry Crawford because we don't know if he'll marry and John Thorpe because who in their right mind would marry him!

[katyawriteswhump]

the power of love, part 14

Sorry about Sunday's empty post ☹️ I must've accidentally put a draft template in my queue because I am basically tired and rubbish and life isn’t the greatest right now. Anyhow.... Whoops and really sorry again!

Alternate ending S4: Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 15

(also on AO3 here and as part of my steve whump fic series)

Eddie POV

When neither Steve nor Robin show up after ten minutes, Eddie begins to freak out. 

He, Hopper and El are still waiting for the car, out of sight among some ferns. Hopper’s getting antsy, muttering beneath his breath, while Eddie’s wriggling like he’s got ants in his pants. Which he genuinely might have, though that’s not what’s bugging him:

“Uuuuh, shall I see what’s taking them so long?”

“You do that,” says Hopper. “What’s going on with that guy? He could barely stand! How the hell could he…”

Eddie tunes out, retracing their journey into the trees, calling Robin’s name then Steve’s. Maybe Steve passed out, and Robin got lost searching? Somehow, he doesn’t buy it. A heaviness slows his feet, and his guts twist sourly. 

They wouldn’t just ditch him. Surely? Surely!?! 

Fifteen minutes later, he winds up where he started: “They’re not back?” 

“What do you reckon?” Hopper’s breathing hard and red in the face. Evidently, he’s been running in circles like Eddie has.

“This is for you.” El nudges Eddie and presses a scrap of paper into his hand. “I think Steve left it.”

“What? Where?” Eddie’s stomach clamps tight again. 

Her eyes stretch very wide. “Fell out of your pack.”

Turning the note over in his hands, his fingers stiffen, as if shrinking from the task, bracing for… something. In the event, he gets a literal slap around the face.

“You make me sick,” Steve wrote.

Eddie’s skin burns with the blow. Wow! This is why I never have and never freakin’ will write love songs.

“What does he say?” demands Hopper.

Eddie scans the note one more time, scrunches it in his fist. “I’d hazard a guess he’s gone back to Hawkins.”

“Goddammit! Robin’s gone with him?”

“I think that’s a safe bet.” A wobble in the back of Eddie’s throat finds its way into his voice. Because, boy, is he still processing.

You make me sick. 

What does that even mean? To be fair, Eddie did make Steve sick. More than once. But why the heck write… that. Would suck less to be dumped without a word. 

Thanks for the overkill, man.

“Don’t you even think about scooting off,” growls Hopper. “Your uncle would never forgive me.” 

Oh yeah. Wayne. The only person who ever actually cared about him.

Eddie plonks his butt down on the ground and waits for the car.

…

Steve POV

“C’mon, giddy up,” says Steve. He and Robin make their way along the muddy bank of the stream towards home.

“Is this some kind of race?” she asks. “While I’d forgotten your former life as a douchebag jock, you’re doing a stunning job of reminding me, and… Uuuuugh!” 

“Jesus Christ, what’s wrong this time?” He spirals about, plants his hands on his hips—he’d ditched the sling a while ago. 

She scrubs madly at her lips. “I swallowed a bug! Ugh, ugh, ugh, mega-gross. Eeeeurgh!”

“Maybe if you weren’t complaining, like, constantly, there’d be less opportunities for bugs to get in.” 

“You shut up, shit-bird! I could die of malaria.” She spits into the stream. “Ew! EEEEEEEW!” 

“Ssssh! Hop said the military will be crawling everywhere soon, or—”

“Eddie might hear?” His heart heaves a loaded thud. She looks back sharply, purses her lips. “You know, he could be lost in the wilderness, all alone. Being hunted by evil army thugs. Or bears! Did you think of that when you sauntered off?”

“I did, yeah. I left him a message saying not to follow.” He shades his face from the afternoon sunlight, which shafts between the trees. Also, he can’t look her straight on and say this: “It was kinda brutal, I guess. It was for his own good, right?”

“Oh. Riiiight.”

“You done spewing insects?” he snaps.

“Still heavily grossed-out here. Gimme a minute, ’kay?” She plonks herself on a rock, crumpling forward.

He mops his brow, strips his sweater, and takes the opportunity to check in on his bat bites. They’re still sore, the bandages a bit bloody. Nothing too fresh, though. For the billionth time, his thoughts fly back to Eddie. He hopes Eddie doesn’t get hurt and need healing while they’re apart, and… Holy shit, will he ever see him again? He ties his sweater around his hips, trying to make fumbling hands look casual.

“Steve? You okay?”

“Other than the fact I’m modelling a ‘shoot-me-now-why don’t-you?’ Hellfire Club t-shirt,”—and that I want to punch myself in the face about that moronic note—“I’m good, Robin.”

“You know what? I don’t doubt it.” She brushes her flyaway hair from suspicious eyes. “You’ve gone from death’s door to super-human speed in, oh, I don’t know—feels to me that we’ve been marching for a week. I think it’s been barely an hour.”

“Yeah? We got a long way to go then.” He starts off along the stream’s edge, forcibly slowing his pace. He senses her puffing, panting, then following on his heels.

“Look, Steve, this water goddess who’s pulling you back, whispering in your ear—”

“I can’t actually tell if they’re male or female. Does that matter?”

“Not in the slightest. So, your water… deity. Have they, by any chance, enlightened you as to some kind of divine plan? Or told you exactly where you’re heading?” 

“I got an idea where I’m going, yeah.” To the second place he died, swept away on that blood-red tide—even now, he sees it in his head, like a few frames of a horror VHS stuck on eternal repeat. “Where’s the best place for army generals with dodgy agendas to hang out in Hawkins? There’s never been an army base, apart from—”

“You’re kidding me?” She grabs his elbow, jerking him back. “The Soviet tunnels?” He nods, and her obvious dread has her dropping him like a stone. “No way! I don’t think I can go anywhere near without a major panic attack."

“I’m not gonna march straight in.” He’s already wandering on. Trouble is, now he’s said the idea out loud, it’s become real and terrible. And he’s gotta pretend like his blood’s not congealing to ice. “I don’t know how I’m gonna get in anyhow. I mean, the Starcourt lift is buried under a ton of rubble. I think Hop might’ve know other ways—”

“Oooh, I got a great idea. Let’s go back and ask him.”

“Yeah, real subtle.”

“Steve!” She seizes him again, twisting him around with a furious force. “I know you want to help El, but what can you ACTUALLY DO?” He shrugs before he can stop himself. “Rain? Lightning? How does that benefit us—especially in underground tunnels? Plus you’ve had literally zero time for practice. If we don’t slow down and come up with a decent plan, this is tantamount to suicide.”

“We? Seriously, Robin, I…” His teeth clamp his lower lip. Any moment now, he’ll tell her how terrified he is, how he really, really doesn’t want to get tortured again, let alone die; how the idea of anything bad happening to her is as frightening as any of it. “I don’t think I have much choice.”

“Steve,” she says, gentler now, though her grip gouges into his flesh. “It’s screamingly obvious you’re not thinking straight. You’ve been ill for days and now you’re in a funk, beating yourself up over Eddie.”

He yanks himself free, glares. “That doesn’t make any dif—"

“Bullshit! Trust me, however ‘mean boy’ your literary masterpiece got, Eddie won’t want you to do anything this dumb. Oh, and your resident gender-fluid angel saved your life. They’re not gonna want you to sacrifice it pointlessly.”

He opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it again. He laughs—not a particularly happy laugh, but not totally miserable either. “You win,” he says, kinda sagging with relief. “You got a plan, smarty-pants?”

She laughs with him, equally edgy. “I say we go to Lover’s Lake, wait till it’s dark. If that’s too dangerous, we find some hidden pool where you can practise whatever badass moves you think you got. Hopefully without the puking. It’ll be a bit like Band Camp. But for Magic. Magic Camp. Okay?”

“You really aren’t gonna be happy until I’m a bigger nerd that any of… Shit!” 

He’s been considering hugging her. Instead, he seizes her sleeve, dragging her down into a deep, wet gully. They land with a splash, crouching low, close. She doesn’t complain, because she’s heard what he has.

The distant sound of barking dogs. Likely, army search dogs.

“Dog barks travel for miles, huh?” he whispers.

“Possibly.” She sucks in a scared breath. “One thing for sure—those sniffy wet snouts can pick up a human scent from the next county.”

“We’re in a stream, Robin. They can’t pick up our scent here, right?”

She crinkles her nose, dubious. “Dogs’ sense of smell is pretty amazing.”

“Yeah? Let’s hope this bunch caught colds or something.” 

He’s now the one clutching her way too tight, and he half-wishes he’d ditched her with a bitchy note too. Though, not quite. She smart; he needs her, and she’s really has gotten him thinking clearer: 

“We head for Lover’s Lake. C’mon.”

…

Eddie POV

When the sound of the car engine finally reaches his hearing, Eddie feels almost nothing.

“Don’t move.” Hopper pitches Eddie a forbidding look and grabs El, keeping them low behind the ferns. 

An owl hoots. Despite the hollowness in his chest, Eddie silently cracks up. Seriously? Top secret government goons can’t think of a better signal than me and Robin? 

Hopper’s grip slides to the firearm at his side. He rises slowly. “Over here.”

Peeping between the foliage, Eddie can make out a limo-style saloon with blacked-out windows. A severe-faced woman in lethal stilettos climbs out. “Chief Hopper, I presume? I apologise for the delay. O’Sullivan’s got men everywhere. We must leave right away.”

Hopper, nevertheless, remains stood well off the road with Eleven, not rushing for the car. And Eddie? 

You make me sick.

Steve’s made it simple for him. He should cut his losses and take this chance of escape. Wayne would want him to. Apart from… Eddie literally can’t. What was it that Steve said? Oh yeah. That he was being stretched in the wrong direction. Or something along those lines.

Yeah, I’m feelin’ it, Stevie. 

Nothing supernatural, nothing hinky. You kill me that bad, Babe—even after you turned meanie-King-Steve and dumped me. Oh, and went back to goddamn Mordor without me! 

Gonna trust you had your reasons, and I’m coming anyway.

He turns on his dirt-clotted heels and flees as fast as he can.

Part 15

...

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology @finntheehumaneater (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 15

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

A Perfectly Normal Schoolgirl, part 2

Well, I managed to churn out part 2 of this! Take that, flu >:) Anyways, read part 1 here

I listened to the rest of the class with a single ear, so busy with plotting our next move was I. Mrs Cheng was going to want to take revenge for my little ploy, and that meant I had to keep on my toes. Things were going to get significantly more dangerous.

Dane, fool boy that he was, had taken it upon himself to become the teacher's pet, a deadly thing to do when the teacher in question was Mrs C. All through the day, I cursed him as I watched him present neatly written equations to Mrs Cheng with glee. It was a small mercy that she had no knowledge of our relationship, for my sanity and for his safety, and suspected naught of him.

As the bell rang and we were released, I shot her a mocking bow and strolled out the door. Soon as I was out of sight, I grabbed Dane's elbow and sunk my nails into his soft flesh. “You idiot,” I hissed in his ear.

His wide prey-eyes met my narrowed ones. “What did I do? Training today wasn't that bad, was it?” When my glare did not let up, he batted at my hand. “Kat, let go, please. I don't know why you're so pissed with me, but you're going to draw blood! So unless you want my mom to have some very awkward questions, you have to stop.”

I glanced down at my hand, with its too-long fingers and too-sharp nails. “Tch,” I said. “You nearly got yourself killed with your antics just now. And all the not-terrible training in the world isn't going to be enough when you end up going toe to toe with C.”

“C? You mean Mrs Cheng? Wait…” Realisation dawned on his broad features. “Oh shit. You gotta be kidding me, right? It's her?”

I barked a laugh at that. “Yes, Dane. It's her. Her and about a quarter of the school faculty. So think twice before you draw any more attention to yourself, understand? You're not nearly ready enough to fight one of them.” 

Biting his lip, Dane nodded. “I'm sorry, Kat. I should've thought things through more. Can I get you an ice cream to make it up to you?”

His inanity brought a smile to my face. “Don't apologise to me, silly. I'm not the one who's in danger. But yes, I would love to have an ice cream. Shall we try the gelato place that just opened up?”

He pulled out his wallet and made a show of noting how little there was in it. “You're going to drive me broke, Kat. These cafes are overpriced, you know. The convenience stores work just fine,” he whined.

I tapped him on the nose, and replied, “When you've lived a life like mine, you learn to appreciate the finer things in life, little Dane.” Besides, I thought grimly, I had upset the things running the convenience stores a tad too much to be comfortable eating something from there.

We walked, hand in hand, down the noon-burning street, and I could not help but revel in the heat. Truly, global warming was doing me a favour. Dane did not share my views, sadly. He leaked rivulets of sweat, fanning himself with a piece of paper and he strolled next to me.

It appeared we were not the only ones to crave icy relief, for the cafe was brimming with people munching on artisanal gelatos and sipping iced tea. There was only one person at the counter, a gorgeous woman with hair that fell in auburn waves and overalls that proclaimed her to be an employee. I slipped through the doors and pulled Dane behind me. Without them ever quite noticing, the customers parted around me, and I snuck my way into the front of the queue.

Without turning around, the woman manning the counter chirped, “Hello and welcome to Jelly's Gelatos! How can I help you today?”

I put on my best smile. “Oh, I'd like two scoops of chocolate gelato, please! In a cone. And two scoops of… Matcha, wasn't it? Also in a cone,” I said, winking at Dane as I did so. Matcha was his favourite flavour, and it had always delighted him when I remembered that, so I made the effort to. Indeed, he brightened up when I made his order correctly, and squeezed my hand appreciatively.

Smoothly, the woman scooped out our order. “You two make a cute couple,” she said as she did so. “I didn't know you liked little boys, Katherine.” My uniform had no name tag on it, and neither did anything I carried.

Ah, shit.

I tensed up, sliding into a fighting stance. “How the hell do you know my name?” A protective hand on Dane's shoulder, I leaned in to peer closer at her.

She looked up and tilted her head to the side. Eyes like burnished copper met mine, her pupils just a tad too elongated to be normal. Her hair was down, but I had a suspicion that it hid pointy ears. “Don't you recognise me, Katherine? I'm disappointed,” she purred. 

That voice was familiar, and not in a good way. I'd met her kinden before, men and women too beautiful to be purely mortal, the children of unholy unions. They were never up to any good. “You should be,” I replied, baring my teeth at her. “Don't expect me to remember the name of every random person I come across.”

The insult stung, as it was meant to, and she thrust my order under my nose. I took my chocolate and handed the matcha to Dane, who accepted it cautiously. “You think you're so high and mighty, Katherine? You've made too many enemies, and it's only a matter of time before one of us gets you,” she snarled, her pearly white teeth stark against blood-red gums.

I rolled my eyes in my best approximation of a rebellious teenager. “Sure, like, whatever. I'm so frightened by random minimum wage workers,” I jeered. “C'mon, don't expect me to quiver in my boots at you. You're only scary to the children of helicopter parents who point at you as an example of what happens when you fail your exams.”

“You bitch,” she hissed.

“So close, but no cigar, sweetie,” I replied. “And I don't think that's the proper way to treat your customers, is it? No tips for you.” Picking up a handful of change from my pocket, I dumped it onto the counter. “Toodles!”

On that cheerful note, I pushed my way back out into the sunny sidewalk. Dane followed like a lost puppy, looking increasingly concerned. “What was that about? That woman looked like she was gonna kill you!”

I shrugged. “Get used to it, kiddo. Everyone wants me dead. And when they find out about you? Well, you can bet they won't want sunshine and warm hugs.”

[burncdheart]

Mildly she rose her eyebrows as an answer to his words. Doubt clear in her facial expressions, as if saying a silent 'yes, sure'. Taru withheld speaking out those words loudly, knowing that he would just deny it anyway. Instead, she wrapped her arms around the puppy again and nuzzled with it. Confused over why it wagged it's tail so much as she did so, but even more concerned over Amadeus.

Had she said or done anything wrong? Did she indeed worry too much this time?

"You should sleep then.", she spoke with a hushed voice, slow realization kicking in, of how drowsy she felt herself. A yawn escaped her throat.

"We both probably should...", Taru added softly.

@burncdheart asked:

She's poking her boyfriend's cheek, "You look so pouty.". Though said in such her usual, serious manner, she can't help but think that it does indeed look rather cute on him. { to Ama, because of the conversation of him getting pouty because of their dog c:< }

Unprompted - Always Welcomed ~

"I'm not pouting", he says, while doing just that, Amadeus puffing his cheek against the finger that is poking at his cheek, a slight hint of pink starting to appear in his cheeks as his mind caught onto the fact that she'd caught him so easily. Lazily, he ran his fingers across the back of the small puppy that laid by their side, a sigh heard as he nuzzled more against Taru's side. "...maybe I'm just a little tired...". He was not going to admit that he was jealous over a dog of all things...

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Philip | You, Always You | Romantic

Requested: Yes

Whilst reminiscing on the past, you realise the love of your life has always been right in front of you.

Forcing the yawn that threatens to escape back into your system, you rub your eyes tiredly as the light of the flames hurts your eyes. Seated against a log that digs into your spine, you pull one leg a little closer to your chest, hoping to get more comfortable. 

The day has been long and tiring, with crowds of people constantly gathering around Jesus and requiring His attention. Although there is no better place than at the Messiah’s side, you are aware that all of you need rest from time to time, including Jesus Himself. Constantly staying alert whilst ushering people into fair queues whilst Jesus did His work was worth it yet physically draining.

Ever since returning to camp, all you’ve been yearning for is to crawl into your bedroll, drape over an extra pelt to keep warm and close your burning eyes. With a rich stew warming your belly, you feel your exhaustion creeping up on you as all of camp slowly starts calling it a day, most Disciples already having withdrawn themselves to their tents, and you are about to do the same when a familiar voice says your name. 

You blink in surprise at Philip’s sudden appearance behind you and you turn to face him, your heart fluttering pleasantly at the sight of his smile. “Are you headed somewhere?”

“Well, yes,” you breathe, “I was about to go to bed, actually. Is anything the matter?”

Something sad flashes behind Philip’s eyes, but it is soon replaced by something hopeful. “Well, I was supposed to keep the first watch with Nathanael, but he fell asleep and I can’t get him to wake up.”

You chuckle at the image you can vividly imagine. “That’s typically Nath.” you laugh lightly, “Nothing new with him, hm?”

Philip grins and shakes his head. “He never changes in that regard.”

You hum and are silent for a second, staring at the flames whilst your heart is torn between two things – to call it a day or suggest to stay with Philip for a little while to keep him company – but his request decides for you: “Say, (Y/n), would you like to stay with me for a while? Otherwise, I’ll be so lonely during the first watch. It will only be about two hours until Thomas and Zee will be taking over.” 

“Sure,” you tell him, your heart pleasantly skipping a beat. Spending some extra time with Philip is always a dream, but it also makes you worry that you’ll slip up one day, or that you would say something embarrassing that causes him to not like you anymore. For as long as you can remember, you’ve had the biggest crush on him, and the last thing you want is to ruin your friendship by running your mouth. “Where shall we sit?”

“I was thinking, maybe on the other side than where you are sitting right now? That way, we’ll have a better view of the plains.”

You agree to that and shift your position to the other side of the fire, where he takes a seat next to you. 

A brief silence befalls you two and Philip is the first to break it. “I can boil us some water.” he suggests, “If you can pick a few herbs, we can soak them into it.” 

“Of course,” you tell him, rising to your feet to gather some fresh mint leaves that grow in the shade of a rock formation, whilst Philip rummages around for a bit. You quickly pop a mint leaf into your mouth in the hopes of making your breath a little fresher, for if you’re talking in a low volume, he’s bound to get closer to you. The idea makes your cheeks flame. 

After collecting enough sprigs, you return to his side, for Philip has already put on the kettle and has found two clean cups that he brushes clean from dust with the end of his tunic. “Here you go,” you say, handing him the mint leaves, which he divides evenly. You watch him work whilst getting comfortable. “I remember that we used to make this on days that we didn’t feel like going into town to buy food. When we were still with John, I mean.”

“I miss these days sometimes.” Philip muses, “The wild honey we’d add was so sweet, too. I remember your small obsession with the stuff.”

Blushing, you swat his arm. “Hey, I was not addicted to honey. Okay, maybe a little, but it was over as soon as I got stung in my mouth that one day.” 

Philip laughs at the memory, swirling the water around the kettle carefully to distribute the heat. “Oh, yes, I remember that. You couldn’t eat properly for two days. Your extraordinarily chubby cheeks looked very cute on you though.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at the way he had considered you then, but Philip avoids eye-contact by pouring scalding water into the two cups, handing one to you carefully. His hand brushes yours in the process and you have to prevent yourself from startling too much lest you spill anything, your heart skipping a beat regardless.

“Luckily, it was only temporary. After all, such an experience is not recommended.”

Philip hums and blows some air into his cup. “I can only imagine, and I did feel really bad for you then.”

“You were basically panicking when it happened and my face started to swell up.”

He smiles. “Well, I couldn’t exactly help you in the same way you had helped me when we were children. Remember the incident with the tree branch?” 

It takes you a moment to realise what he means, but when a memory about Philip being stung in his thumb after poking a beehive he had expected to be empty, you cannot fight the laugh. “I’ve never heard you scream that hard ever in my life, nor have you screamed like that after.”

Philip smirks and takes a careful sip of his drink whilst the two of you look at the fire. His upper arm snugly pressed against yours makes you soar, his proximity welcome, familiar. 

“I do remember that you gave me a kiss on my thumb after removing the sting, and it was as if the pain was gone instantly.”

Your cheeks turn red; You had totally forgotten about that detail, and the fact that Philip still remembered made your gut swarm with butterflies.

“Well, I am glad to have been of service.” you try to hide your sudden abashedness. Philip lets out a pleasant sound, his knee hitting yours playfully.

“You know,” he starts, “I’ve often thought back on that moment.”

Flustered, you blink in puzzlement. “Oh? Why?”

Philip finally dares to look at you, his gaze containing something that you cannot quite place. 

“Because it was the first time I ever had such contact with a girl.” Your heart drops, then tightens at the implication that he has been kissed by another girl later on in life. “Of course there have been moments during our teens that girls showed their interest by kissing my cheek, but none of them had evoked such a reaction as to when you had healed my thumb that day.”

With reddened cheeks, you avert your gaze. “Oh, well, I’m glad to hear that I’ve had such an impact on you.”

He smiles wryly. “You must think I’m weird now.”

You frown. “How so?”

“Because that was… How long ago? Twenty… Twenty-five years? And I still think about it from time to time, truth be told.”

You nearly drop your drink and carefully put it down on the ground beside you.

“Thank you for reminding me of that,” you muse, “I had completely forgotten about it.”

The glimmer in his eyes dies down. “Do you mean to say that it meant not as much for you as it meant for me?”

Regret immediately shatters your heart, you firmly shake your head, and you lean towards him. “No– No, of course not! I-I mean… Of course it meant something to me, but… Perhaps I was afraid of how much it would mean to me, so I pushed away the memory.”

Philip lets out a sound of confusion. “Afraid? Of what?”

You fall silent, embarrassment clawing at your throat. For a second, you scold yourself mentally – you should have gone to bed, now you’ve said something dumb that will potentially ruin your friendship, just what you had warned yourself about – before you open your mouth to respond.

“I don’t know.” you shakily say, eyelids fluttering as you force back your blush. “Why did you… Why did you never mention it again?”

Philip lets out a sad scoff and lowers his gaze, shrugging. “Well, I always thought you were going to get married to Boaz.”

“Boaz?” you let out a laugh, “Really? Where did you get that idea from?”

With genuine surprise on his features, Philip meets your gaze. “What…? Do you mean that you weren’t going to marry him?”

“No!” you chuckle, “Never even thought about it. I thought he was way too childish for someone who was nineteen and… Well, I wanted to reserve myself for someone else.”

Philip’s eyes widen. “Oh… What happened?”

For a second, you hesitate. “He never asked.” you say at last, which is the truth. “And I fear that he never will.”

The flow of your blood is so loud in your ears that you hope you’ll be able to hear Philip speak as he visibly mulls over the words. “Well, I think that man would be very lucky to have you as his wife, and if I ever run into him I’ll tell him he’s pretty stupid for letting you wait for so long. If it had been me, I would have asked you ages ago.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva. Is this a confession? 

Suddenly short of breath, you bring your fingers to your lips to touch them, completely in shock. With your free hand, you reach for your tea, that has cooled down enough to be consumed. 

“Are you okay? You’re a bit pale.” Philip worriedly queries when you remain silent. For a moment, you’re worried you’ll spit the drink back into the cup. You take a moment to gather yourself and try to come up with an answer. 

Yes, this is a confession, you decide then and there. And you’d be dumb to let it pass. 

“Then why haven’t you?” you break your silence. 

Now it is Philip’s turn to grow flustered, momentarily confused with your words until he thinks it over. When everything seems to fall into place, his eyes shimmer with hope. 

“Are you… What are you implying, (Y/n)?” He tilts his head slightly in question, as if he is still unsure. 

You take a deep breath. “What I am trying to say is… The man who I was waiting on to ask for my hand in marriage was… Well, you.”

The silence between you two is heavy with unspoken emotion as you stare at one another, neither of you looking away. 

“Really?” Philip croaks, “Am I… Am I dreaming?”

Laughing in relief, you shake your head. “No, Philip, I’m very serious and this is very real.”

His gaze flickers back to the flames and he runs a hand down his brow, grunting in frustration. “Oh, I am such an idiot. Have I been that blind?!”

You giggle and put a hand on his arm. “To be fair, I haven’t been very assertive myself, either.”

Philip hides his face in his hands and lets out another sound, still processing what he has just heard. 

“Forgive me, (Y/n), I am just… Oh, forgive me for making you think I wasn’t interested, because I am. I have always been.”

“As have I,” you admit, “Since we were teenagers.”

“I’ve loved you since long before that.” His words are so soft that you nearly melt and his gaze meets yours, gently, patiently. “Please, forgive me–”

You cut him off lest he feel bad for any longer: “I have already forgiven you,” you breathe, “There is nothing to forgive, anyways. It turns out that both of us were too afraid to come forward with our feelings and misunderstood the other.”

Philip smiles and takes your hand in his. “Then please don’t misunderstand this, (Y/n).” he mutters, and your breath hitches in your throat as he moves forward slightly. 

“Misunderstand what?”

“Marry me.”

Blinking rapidly, you try to comprehend what he has just asked you. When it takes you a few seconds to reply, Philip’s face falls into embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry if I am going too fast, I didn’t mean to pressure you–”

“Yes.” you interrupt, “Yes, I will!”

He exhales in alleviation before grinning from ear to ear, putting a hand over his mouth in disbelief. “Oh!” he murmurs, “Oh, that is… Yes! You’re serious! This is the best day of my life!”

You can’t help but laugh and scoot a little closer to him. “The best is yet to come, Phil.” you muse, and he softens, looking you in the eye. 

“Feel free to say no, because it’s not really part of our customs, but… I’ve been wanting to properly kiss you for so long, and at this moment…” He sighs and cups your jaw, thumbing gently at your cheekbone. “I would love to just…” 

His voice trails off, and you don’t reply verbally. Instead, you lean upwards to connect your mouth to his, for he has not been the only one to have mustered that desire for the last fifteen years. 

Softly pulling you closer, Philip returns the sentiment, wondering why he has ever waited  this long, and imagining a beautiful future with you at his side, promising you silently in this moment to always be there for you, like he always had been.

[bearyeet10]

Hi dear donors ! ❤️

I would like to extend my thank and gratitude for the support you have been offering over the last eleven months. ❤️☺️

My family and I have been suffering and going through the hardest days we have ever experienced in our life . Things are very hard to get and and sometimes unattainable.😭😓

Our sufferings and hardship started on the first days of the war when all our possessions were completely destroyed and burned. We have become displaced and homeless , finding ourselves in a small tent in streets with no means of life. We lack every single necessary thing of life; food, water, hygiene essentials, and other necessities have become scarce and rare.

A photo taken to show how incredibly harsh our life has become after the war. We are struggling and facing lots of barriers to obtain the simplest necessities for living. Everything single thing is a complete story.

You can't imagine what difficulties we have been going through all these days of war. No cooking gas , nor cooking tools exist . We struggle to prepare a small meal of food.

No bakeries are available. Everything seems a miracle and unbelievable.😭 The war has stolen our joy and smile, leaving us busy thinking only of staying safe and alive. Our future has gone with the wind and our kids lost their dreams and ambitions.

This is a part of burying the dead. We also face some problems in the process of buying our dead people as no place is there for the family. Tombs aren't enough for the number of people living on a small spot of land.

A photo taken for the morning queue of filling our gallons with drink water. We wait hours to get some water for drink. Our life is full of tragedy and sadness.

All what we need is to survive the war and be safe. We are trying to secure the daily basic living necessities and this can come true with your contribution and support. Please don't spare this moment of supporting the people in need in Gaza in this tough and dire time. You can help us by either donating however small it is or sharing my posts. Your support makes a big difference for families in need.

Have no money Idont but share I shall after brain covesations with THEM.

[gh0stiiephrenia]

Hi dear donors ! ❤️

I would like to extend my thank and gratitude for the support you have been offering over the last eleven months. ❤️☺️

My family and I have been suffering and going through the hardest days we have ever experienced in our life . Things are very hard to get and and sometimes unattainable.😭😓

Our sufferings and hardship started on the first days of the war when all our possessions were completely destroyed and burned. We have become displaced and homeless , finding ourselves in a small tent in streets with no means of life. We lack every single necessary thing of life; food, water, hygiene essentials, and other necessities have become scarce and rare.

A photo taken to show how incredibly harsh our life has become after the war. We are struggling and facing lots of barriers to obtain the simplest necessities for living. Everything single thing is a complete story.

You can't imagine what difficulties we have been going through all these days of war. No cooking gas , nor cooking tools exist . We struggle to prepare a small meal of food.

No bakeries are available. Everything seems a miracle and unbelievable.😭 The war has stolen our joy and smile, leaving us busy thinking only of staying safe and alive. Our future has gone with the wind and our kids lost their dreams and ambitions.

This is a part of burying the dead. We also face some problems in the process of buying our dead people as no place is there for the family. Tombs aren't enough for the number of people living on a small spot of land.

A photo taken for the morning queue of filling our gallons with drink water. We wait hours to get some water for drink. Our life is full of tragedy and sadness.

All what we need is to survive the war and be safe. We are trying to secure the daily basic living necessities and this can come true with your contribution and support. Please don't spare this moment of supporting the people in need in Gaza in this tough and dire time. You can help us by either donating however small it is or sharing my posts. Your support makes a big difference for families in need.

I shall share your post and spread the word, its the best I can do, may you be safe and have hope, the future is bright even times of suffering my friend

[burncdheart]

@diverse-hearts-ocs asked: “Okay so, would you rather not sleep or not eat for the coming seven days?” - Oei torture starters : deprivation - still accepted

Eyes of azure blue stared at the woman as if it was her who was mad. Well, she was and there were no questions asked about this. Taru was aware of the things she had done to Amadeus, of the things he had to endure and life through for more than thousand years. So she knew that Oei was absolutely dangerous and that it was more than just inconvenient that she fell right into her hands. Whatever she had tried had failed in assisting her to get away too, which just added to her frustration.

"It doesn't matter what I choose, you will just either choose the other thing, both or none of them at all.", oh how meak her own voice resounded from her throat, like she was the little child she once had been. The child who thought that her family abandoned her in the deepest and cruelest parts this world could offer - the abyss where madness, darkness and monsters reigned.

She had been there, so why would this woman think that the lack of sleep or food would bother her? Taru had lifed like this for a long time - only sleep when her head started to see imagines that did not exist and only eat whenever she was close to being unable to move from hunger. Anytime else would just be a waste and bother her in her tasks.

As annoying it was, it was probably the best to just try and get her into some, little and useless conversation. If there would be somebody coming to save her. Which annoyed her even more, because obviously she wouldn't need it! Well, perhaps she did need some litle aid here after all. "In the end you're surely not even interested if I'm alive or not anyway, aren't you? You're just waiting until Amadeus comes here and tries to save me. Perhaps, you even promise him that I'd come free if he returns to you? Honestly, it would be sad if he would fall for that, but its hard to think on what is going on in his head."

[birkalembindil]

FLOWS, FLOWS…

The heart flows, water flows, day flows, night flows, flows, flows... So much so that graceful life, adorned with ever new hopes, flows within, flows...

For the past three or four days, the fuel station adorned with flags near the city's last intersection on the Ankara-Istanbul highway had seen a decline in its usual bustling customers. Vehicles scattered from east to west, west to east, to all corners of the world, would surely queue up at the pumps again one day.

In the absence of customers, the staff had been assigned to clean every nook and cranny. Except for İrfan Gündüz, the gas station attendant who had been suffering from kidney pain that started on the second day of the holiday and had been writhing for a week. He had just turned fifty. Previously, he was also a tradesman. Unfortunately, now he was waiting for his retirement at someone else's door. He had ignored his only daughter Ayşe's words, "You are sick, Dad. Please don't go to work. I'll take leave and take care of you," and rushed to his job. His colleagues had taken him under their protection and allowed him to rest in a corner with the advice, "Keep your eyes wide open, and don't keep the customers waiting!"

He didn't know how many nights he hadn't slept. His illness had left him with no strength, draining the light from his eyes and the strength from his knees. Although the sun hadn't risen high yet, it had already started sending its significant hot rays. Fortunately, he managed to reach the pump without keeping the owner of the high-end, latest model vehicle waiting. As he approached the majestic black rock that defied nature on the hills of his village, its grandeur was intimidating. The black car also looked enormous to him, so he stepped back.

Emel Sayın's crystal clear voice echoed from the car with its doors and windows closed. The bitter cry of the song's lament was enough to engulf the surroundings. Although the lyrics "Rain down water, my God, until I'm covered in flames, until I'm burned, until I'm quenched" didn't soothe hearts, the soul-soothing holiness of the music was good for the petrol station attendant. That is why he remembered the fairy-like girl with blue eyes, who radiated kindness and was not yet twenty-three. The sieve-maker could imitate the nightingale-voiced artist beautifully.

"Welcome! Shall we fill up your fuel tank, sir?"

"No, no. Just give me one hundred and fifty lira's worth. Excuse me, where is the restroom?"

"Turn left after you enter the market, sir."

When the gas station attendant looked around, there were no vehicles coming or going, nor any friends in sight. The black giant beside him was constantly changing roles. Sometimes it shrank like a fleeing mouse, and sometimes it came at him like a wounded tiger. He had about three and a half years until retirement. He most wanted to see his daughter get married.

After providing the fuel, he wanted to walk around the car and do some small cleanups. The vehicle was as clean as if it had just come out of the factory. He changed his mind.

He had prepared the receipt for the customer. People from Ankara loved holidays. They would return to the capital only a day or two before schools reopened. Never mind, the attendant used the lull in business to recover. He started work at eight in the morning and finished at eight in the evening. To get one day off per week, he had to work until midnight twice a week. The previous month, two hundred lira found to be counterfeit was deducted from his account in one go. He had spent a lot on this Feast of Sacrifice as well. By the middle of the month, he had already incurred a debt of three hundred sixty-five lira. Most of the money had been spent on his illness.

 "Hey, I used to get thirty-two liters of diesel for one hundred and fifty lira. Did the fuel prices go up? Why did you give me twenty-eight liters this time? I don't understand."

"Diesel? Did you say diesel?..." 

The saddest part of Emel Sayın's song had begun. "As life leaves the body, rain down water, my God, rain down water, rain down water!" Before he could say someone wanted water and someone else diesel, the gas station attendant collapsed on the spot.

"Run, the man has fallen! Is there anyone?"

The station's rules for employing workers were clear. The most explicit and non-negotiable was that if the wrong fuel was put into a vehicle, all costs would be charged to the attendant, who would then be sacked.

"You've ruined my car! I'll make you pay dearly for this!" The driver's anger was growing in the large station. Those who ran to the noise saw one person standing by the pump, clutching his head in his hands and seemingly mad, while another lay on the ground, staring skyward like a motionless wooden mannequin. They hurriedly moved the black vehicle to the back of the station. The man's anger was unabated. Besides the cashier woman, who was in tears next to the fallen attendant, there was no one else: "My brother, my father, please open your eyes. What will I say to your Peri then?"

The mournful siren of the ambulance heading to the station faded away after it took the attendant. The next morning, those who saw the sign "Attendant Wanted" noted the phone number to inquire about the working hours and salary, unaware of what had happened the previous day.

Where life ends, sighs and regrets flow, lawsuits flow, prayers flow, longings flow, memories flow, forgetfulness flows, flows, flows... Then the heart flows again, the water flows, the night flows, flows, flows... So much so that with hopes always fresh within, delicate lives adorned with budding roses flow, flow, flow...

[if-seal]

Dear Marketing Friend,

A follow-up on this post: I received an additional message from a helpful reader of this blog with a variety of suggestions, some of which I cheerfully agreed with and others which I did not so much. I shall respond to and explore a mixture of both below.

I do not believe it is important to spend a lot of time designing a blog. Reading on phones, on a Tumblr dashboard if we are speaking of Tumblr blogs, or on an RSS feed if we are speaking of blogs in general, will render all that work invisible. Yes you should have a profile picture and a little bio that says who you are and what you are doing, but if you are not much of a graphic-design person who enjoys creating more complex art I would advise you to concentrate on your writing instead.

That said, "your writing" is not limited to the project itself and certainly includes the ways in which you share information about your game.

It is eminently sensible to have a pinned post including easy-to-read information about your game and the places where you can learn more about it and play it.

It is also a good exercise to get used to summarising your game in 2-3 snappy sentences that say something about what makes your game interesting. When you are sharing things about your game, call back to this. You do not have to use those exact sentences all the time but keeping them in your mind will make it feel more natural to tell people about what's exciting about your game in a way that's easier for them to understand.

You will find that posting on a regular schedule is likely to result in more interest in and questions about your progress; this does not have to be constant activity of course, and do not burn yourself out, but it is more beneficial to have a post twice a week for three months than the same amount of posts crammed into a couple of weeks and then nothing. That's where creating a queue of posts will be useful to you.

Please do not chase trends that you don't love in the hope that you will hit a lucky jackpot. It is wonderful to be inspired by others but there is no guarantee that a similar concept to a popular game will go viral. Games take a great deal of time to make: ensure you are writing something you feel fully on board with and passionate about, and you will be able to showcase and share that passion with others.

I am not an expert in marketing in any way but I have been in hobbyist and commercial interactive fiction circles for many years and believe the most important showcase of your skills is your project, the story within it, and the way you refine and develop it over time. Of course we all see beautiful graphic design and thrilling character posts sometimes getting big flurries of engagement but it is creating and sharing the game itself that will bring you the most satisfaction and will keep an interested audience coming back.

It can be a major time and energy drain looking at popular people's work and trying to determine some manner of secret recipe from them. Their marketing methods may have contributed towards their popularity, or it could be something entirely different: you cannot know whether correlation equals causation and you'd be better placed concentrating on what you are writing.

Finally, this is a very small world - a niche subsection of interactive fiction as a whole - and while it is not exactly a singular "community", my opinion is that those within it do not have to be in competition with one another. There was a tone in the message I received that made me wonder if the sender thought otherwise. But I believe that a rising tide can lift all boats and if you consider yourself to be competing with other writers for attention or even money, it will make you miserable. If you find some interactive fiction that makes you happy, and you tell others that you like it, it can help everyone involved. If saying this makes me a somewhat naive seal, I am at ease with that.

Best wishes to you, Marketing Friend, and I hope your writing goes well!

Do you have any advices on marketing?

Dear Marketing Friend,

One of the things I would say is to not be afraid of blowing your own trumpet.

I confess I am no expert in marketing, and this area of game-writing is a particuarly small and interesting one; things I see advised for creators of non-text-based indie games or even visual novels do not always apply, and nor do things I see advised for book authors.

But I would say the first step is not to feel embarrassed or ashamed about talking about your work. Cast aside the fear that it's annoying! If you have a social media presence related to your writing, people are following you because they're interested in your writing!

Also: it may feel like you are constantly talking about your work being out. But unless you are someone whose work has gone wildly viral while in development, and/or you've had vast sales success, not enough people will know about it. Even the latter is no guarantee that people have heard about it.

That said! It is also worth engaging with other people's work - not for mercenary marketing reasons but because reading other work in this sphere will help you develop your writing skills, and perhaps that will help you connect with your peers as well.

I do think that if you are new to sharing this kind of writing, or if you have a current unfinished project and are starting a new one, it is wise to share some of your work upfront rather than getting excited and announcing a project that does not get off the ground.

This is for your own peace of mind if nothing else: I do not say it to cast aspersions. I have seen plenty of people talk about the difficulty of having an unstarted project get a lot of attention and then realising they need more time than they hoped or that they do not actually want to make the project at all. That's a very hard situation to be in but it is an avoidable one.

The happy side of that is that if you have something to show, it is much easier to show off! Let your light shine and don't hide it.

On a practical level, I recommend writing your materials in advance and queueing them to be posted, and perhaps making a spreadsheet or list of when your next post needs to go up. Being prepared makes it much easier, especially if you have regular types of posts that go up each week or fortnight for example. Otherwise it is very easy to lose track and get burned out on the whole thing.

One last thing: there is a temptation to share a lot about one's own life when marketing and while that suits some people well, please do not put yourself under pressure to do so. And do not feel that you have to do huge amounts of customer service or extra writing in order to make a good piece of interactive fiction.

Make a piece of work that you feel proud of, talk about it, and show it off: those are the things that I think are best focused on.

[bluecadash]

In Your Heart Shall Burn: The Elder One

[chercept]

tag drop!

[coquetteladyofthedeadmensworld]

Girl at the ticket booth for the funhouse: Sir, horses are not allowed in this area. And can you please stop shouting?? You're scaring all the kids in the queue -

James II: LET ME THROUGH!! YOU HAVE ALL BEEN PROMISED COMPENSATION FOR YOUR HOMES!! YOU HAVE BEEN PROMISED COMPENSATION BY YOUR KING!!

Meanwhile -

Guy dragged onto and now trying to have fun on the carousel: Huh?! When have real horses been allowed here and why are you dressed like that?!

His girlfriend: They're... They're not -

Charles II: I WILL NOT SEE MY CAPITAL BURN!

Guy: CAPITAL?!

Dryden: Jemmy, IS THAT YOUR FATHER?!

Monmouth, hiding his face: NO!! I can assure you, I've never seen that bloke before in my life -

Rochester: *too busy dying of laughter videoing this to comment*

Samuel Pepys: *creating a new diary entry about this*

James II: Charles please no one is cooperative right now!

Charles II: People, we have no choice, this is an emergency! You must give up your houses!

People on the rollercoaster: *confused.com* LMFAO!

James Francis Edward: IS THAT DAD?!

James Francis Edward: Damn, I'm embarrassed for him.

Louisa Maria Teresa: Yeah, me too.

Person running the rollercoaster: ONE NORMAL DAY AT THIS JOB IS ALL I ASKED FOR -

Charles II: No one should panic! Homeless people will be compensated and hungry people shall be fed! We will rebuild this great city!

James II: *near tears*

Godolphin, John and Sarah: TF?!

Anne 2.0: IN FRONT OF THEIR GRANDSON AND GREAT-NEPHEW?!?! SERIOUSLY?!?!

George: William sweetheart, why don't we go over there and look at the arcade? *Steers his wife and son away from this circus*

Charles's and James's mistresses: *hide in the arcade and look pretty hoping this will soon be over*

Shrewsbury, the Bentincks, Villiers and Keppel: *buy popcorn at the nearest food stall to enjoy the show*

James: We do not wish to see anyone in this position but if we only act for ourselves, we will all suffer - *sees George* George, what are you doing, just milling about? There is danger here!!

George, who has returned from the arcade: Guys...

Theme park workers: *prepared to knock these men out*

George: Boys, please...

George: This is a theme park. You're going to get kicked out.

*Silence falls across the park*

Charles II: Wait, you mean there's no fire?! We've done all of this for ABSOLUTELY NOTHING?!

George: *sighs* Yes *Gives camera The Office stare*

James II: *Bursts into tears*

Police officer who was summoned to the scene: Both of you are under arrest for terrorising fungoers and workers alike in this fairground.

Charles II: NOOOOO!!

James II: *Full on howling*

Horses: *Whinny in confusion*

Rochester: I could put this into my mf poetry b-.

Dryden: WRITE THAT DOWN! WRITE THAT DOWN!

Samuel Pepys: Goodness me, this is an entry if I ever saw one!

Monmouth: *is away off to escape. Tries to hide his embarrassment by chatting to girls at the water rides:

Anne Hyde, Maria and Catherine of Braganza: *on the Ferris Wheel, watching this performance go down*

Anne: Why are our men like this...?

In the arcade hours during the aftermath...

William III: *downs a cider*

Govert Bidloo: *also downs a cider*

William Henry Gloucester, very innocently: What's happening, guys? Why did Grandpa and Great-Uncle Charlie get arrested?

Mary II ,Anne Villiers and Anne 2.0 in unison: Oh nothing darling.

William Henry Gloucester: But how did they think there was a fire??

William III: *hands over his newly bought fruit juice*

William III: This is what happens when you do drugs kid.

Conclusion: The Stuart Brothers go to prison for harassment of innocent civilians and unlawful interruptions of workplace after George called the police. Sunderland conveniently goes to prison for drunk driving too. The remaining Stuart Family all apologise to the rest of the theme park and help reorganise and rebuild with little William helping too. Charles and James are deemed wasted and are therefore no longer allowed into any theme parks.

Oh, and Dryden and Rochester wrote more poetry based on this very eventful story:

The End

Call me insane from watching The First Churchills and The Great Fire (which I only view for fit men and nothing else) but once I imagined a scenario where Charles and James were out thinking they were fighting a fire but it was actually a theme park and nothing out of the normal was happening, everyone was just having fun while the Stuart Bros were riding about screaming about how they would promise compensation for homes at confused bystanders who were just trying to enjoy themselves wondering why two men in weird old-fashioned outfits are trying to blow up the funhouses! Then they got arrested. 😭😂🤣

[goddessseal]

[Anna’s Talking:: Better tags! Yay!]