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dashboarddiaries · 2 years ago

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DASHBOARD DIARIES, EPISODE 2 - The Game (Unpacking Fandom Fallout) is On

We tackle a second - and shortest running - part of Superwholock: Sherlock. Lauren walks us through the rise and fall of the fandom for the TV show BBC Sherlock, explains the broad strokes of The Johnlock Conspiracy (TJLC), and admits the wild internet rumor she wanted to believe. Meanwhile, Cherokee is literally losing sleep over For All Mankind. Episode may induce flashbacks to the mid-2010s, spontaneous shipping of old ships, and deeply analysis of wallpaper. Share your Sherlock feels in our ask box or email us at [email protected]!

Credits and transcript under the cut. You can find transcripts for this, and every other episode, here.

Thank you Lindsay and Mallory for sharing your feels with us!

Find the posts discussed in this episode in this tag!

Credits, show notes, and transcript under the cut. You can find transcripts for this, and every other episode, here.

Dashboard Diaries is a production of Atypical Artists, hosted by Lauren Shippen and Cherokee McAnelly. Our theme was composed by Lauren Shippen and mixed by Brandon Grugle. Art by Shae McMullin. Transcription (which can be found on our Tumblr) by Laudable.

Sound effects: "Bad Beep" by RICHERlandTV; "Correct Answer / That's Right!" by Beetlemuse; "Weather Forecast Introduction" by SergeQuadrado; all licensed under the Attribution 3.0 License.

Mark Gattis + Steven Moffat Answertime

To learn more about TJLC, here are a few resources to get you started:

Decoder Ring Podcast Episode about TJLC

Vox Article About Shipping Culture (with a focus on Johnlock)

YouTuber Sarah Z Video Episode

101 from a TJLC-er

Insider Breakdown on r/HobbyDrama

[intro music]

Cherokee: Hello, soft, sad freaks. I’m Cherokee McAnelly, professional tumblr’er, and ship poster.

Lauren: And I am Lauren Shippen, professional writer, and a person who to this day still thinks of that one scene, you know what I’m talking about, whenever I plug in my phone and miss the plug.

Cherokee: And this is Dashboard Diaries, a podcast for you, the folks who are in this internet bunker with us. We talk about what’s going on our favorite hell site, get into what we like to call “Tumble’lore,” do fandom deep dives, and share the times when we’ve gone feral over a new ship. So, Lauren, what have you been up to this week? What have you been watching? What have you been thinking? What have you been feeling?

Lauren: Well, after our conversation last time I did watch all of The Bear in two sittings. And felt more stressed out than I have ever felt in my life. I absolutely adored it. It was just phenomenal. And I also went totally nuts over the finale of Ms Marvel, which was just incredibly delightful. And that show gave me everything that I could have wanted from a Ms Marvel TV show, except for the fact that I just want it to be 100 episodes. I want to watch it every single week until I die. So, I hope that there is a second season that comes sometime soon.

But, Cherokee, what about you? What have you been up to?

Cherokee: Well, first off, I am so glad that you watched and enjoyed The Bear.

Lauren: It’s so good.

Cherokee: I agree that watching it feels like taking the SAT’s but I can’t turn it off.

(laughter)

Lauren: Why is that so accurate?

Cherokee: Or, you know, the SpongeBob/Mr. Krabs’ meme where it’s like him in the middle and then everything is kind of spinning around him?

Lauren: Yes.

Cherokee: That. (laughs)

Lauren: Oh, my god. You’re so right.

Cherokee: So, yeah. So, this week I, thanks to you Lauren, watched two seasons of For All Mankind. So late.

Lauren: Which has episodes that are an hour and a half sometimes. (laughs)

Cherokee: Yes. I watched it till 3:30 in the morning, not once but twice.

Lauren: (laughs) Oh my god.

Cherokee: The second time I slept through my alarm and missed my 10:00 AM meeting.

Lauren: (laughs) Sorry, Tumblr.

Cherokee: If you are listening to this – don’t , if you’re my boss. Anyway, I really, really loved For All Mankind. I have lots of thoughts and feelings about it. But in addition to that, I watched the first episode of Supernatural, in the first step of this journey of watching every episode.

[rock riff]

Lauren: It has begun. Your Supernatural journey has begun. All right. Give me the low down. How was the first episode for you?

Cherokee: I really enjoyed it. I will admit. I have watched the first episode before.

Lauren: Sure.

Cherokee: I’ve probably seen the first episode three to four times because the amount of times I’ve been like, “I’m going to watch Supernatural.” And then I get distracted naturally by something because there are 15 seasons. But this time, y’all, I’m sticking to it. I’m sticking to my word.

Lauren: It’s happening.

Cherokee: I’m watching it. So, first episode of Supernatural, as you all know, that is the episode where the mom dies on the ceiling, as I described very perfectly last episode.

Lauren: Oh yeah!

Cherokee: Of course, the woman in white, which I think what a girl boss villain to start off with. Good for her. You know?

Lauren: Yes. We love a strong female.

Cherokee: A girl goddess, yeah, look at her go. She’s so powerful that even after the grave she’s still messing stuff up. I respect that. I wrote down some thoughts. The first one was: this was on network TV following the very graphic death of the mom, one scene in? And the second was: I forgot that Jeffrey Dean Morgan is in this. Just icon, love him. Also, I just wanted to note that Sam got a 174 on his LSAT and that is not quite as well as Elle Woods scored. Elle Woods got a 179. So, I just wanted to-

Lauren: You’re right!

Cherokee: ... just wanted to point that out. Sam did really well, but if we’re going by the Elle Woods’ scale, he should take it a couple more times.

Lauren: That’s true.

Cherokee: But I got a 168 on my practice LSAT. So, Sam did out-score me. And I look forward to watching the next episode. I love the reluctant savior trope. The coming back for one last ... “this is gonna be the last one” and then at the very end it’s like, “oh, we’re gonna kill monsters for 15 seasons.” So, yeah, I’m very into that trope. I’m in it. I’m ready to go. Yeah, I will be updating biweekly. Hopefully I watch more than one episode this time. But I was really-

Lauren: For All Mankind really sucked up that time.

Cherokee: It really did. It’s a thinker. So, wonderful week that we had. And speaking-

Lauren: Absolutely excellent.

Cherokee: Speaking of Supernatural and diving back 15 years in the past, let’s dive into our own archives with our Dashboard Confessions.

[guitar riff]

Lauren: Yes.

Cherokee: So, Lauren, what archive post were you checking out this week from your secret Tumblr?

Lauren: Well, it’s so funny because I decided to dive back into July of 2017. And what did I find but mostly Supernatural gifs. Genuinely, it’s like wall to wall. I mean, honestly, it’s a lot of Destiel. But it’s like wall to wall supernatural stuff because I started watching in earnest Supernatural at the end of 2016, because that is when I met Meghan Fitzmartin, who we will have on the show at some point, who was a writer on Supernatural. Who is one of my best friends, and got me into the show by telling me about how great it was. And how great it was to work on.

And so I think by July of 2017, so about seven months after I started watching, I was embarrassingly far into it. I started watching it in November or December and I think by that August I was done. And this would have been season 12 or 13. So, I watched a lot of episodes in a very, very short amount of time.

But actually the post, specifically, that I want to point out this week from July of 2017 is not Supernatural related at all, but a classic meme that I had forgotten about. So, it’s a screen cap from Gone With The Wind of Rhett looking at Scarlett. And instead of his famous line, the caption says, “TBH Bae, IDGAF.” And it’s just this funny remaking of this line in 2017 internet speak. It went around a bunch on Tumblr at the time. So, we will re-blog that to the www.DashboardDiaries.Tumblr.com, and you can see it for yourself and re-live those days of 2017.

Cherokee: First off, I thought that was the line from Gone With The Wind. So, you know, the more you know.

Lauren: I mean, it basically is. It has the spirit. You know? What were you seeing in your archives?

Cherokee: So, I have a very special post that I found this week. And it is from July 2015. This is the summer between me finishing my internship at Tumblr and working at Tumblr full time. And as I mentioned, I hung out with anyone associated with Tumblr. I went to everything, all the time. That whole summer. So, this is a selfie with David Carp, the Founder of Tumblr. Good ‘ol Tumblr Daddy.

Lauren: Oh my god.

Cherokee: I was at this thing and I was like, “David, I gotta get a selfie with you.” And my thing was is this going to be my last opportunity to get a selfie with David? What if I never work at Tumblr again? And thankfully that did not happen and I got to bother him for many more years. But yeah. Good little moment in time.

Lauren: This is incredible.

(laughter)

So, we will re-blog that as well. And you all can see Cherokee with our Founder. With our Father of Tumblr fandom.

Cherokee: The creator of Supernatural. Not literally, but in spirit.

(laughter)

Well, wonderful. Following our great little deep dive and staying with the superwholock vibe that we started the first episode off with, this week we’re going to dive into Sherlock. Which I believe you, Lauren, are a very big fan of.

Lauren: Yes. Yeah. I believe I talked about this on our first episode. But Sherlock is the thing that got me back into fandom as a 20-something. And is sort of the reason that I’m in fandom to this day.

Cherokee: Sherlock’s impact. So, some top line information on Sherlock that I pulled from the depths of Tumblr. Here’s the numbers, folks. So, Sherlock, the BBC show, has been a top show on Tumblr for 100 weeks since 2015, which is when we started recording these fandom metrics. Which essentially every week we published. If you’re not familiar, those listening along every week, we publish the top 20 in TV, film, music, movies, celeb, what have you, and it’s updated weekly.

And so we started have the categorized list in 2015. And I feel like there was a whole year where Sherlock was just, 2016 or 2017 I wanna say, pretty much every single week. Sherlock was a top show.

Lauren: That’s so wild.

Cherokee: Johnlock was only in our Ships list twice. And at first I was shocked about this and then I realized we didn’t launch a ship list for a few years.

Lauren: Oh, okay.

Cherokee: So, we launched the ship list in like 2018, 2017. So, there was a lot ... There were some key Johnlock times that just did not get counted in our ship list. So, I don’t think that’s a fully accurate representation. So, all you Johnlock stans out there, do not fret, it really isn’t ... it’s big on Tumblr. You know?

As in currently, there are 661,000 followers on the Sherlock tag. And 80,000 followers on the Johnlock tag on Tumblr. So, that’s just people following the tag alone.

Lauren: Right.

Cherokee: And we only launched tag following a couple years ago. Maybe a year ago. So, that’s again something that was-

Lauren: Oh wow, okay.

Cherokee: ... launched post really the big Sherlock kind of extravaganza.

Lauren: Yeah.

Cherokee: I do know there was hinting of a season five, potentially. So, maybe.

Lauren: We’ll get to that. (laughs)

Cherokee: (laughs) So, to start off, before I jump the gun here. Lauren, can you give us a brief history of your relationship with Sherlock and the Sherlock discourse for all of our unfamiliar listeners out there?

Lauren: Absolutely. So, as many of you probably already know, BBC Sherlock was a TV show that launched in 2010 and ran for four seasons of three episodes each with one Christmas special as well. So, there’s only 13 episodes for this entire series, essentially. But it was a massive, massive cultural phenomenon. It basically launched Benedict Cumberbatch’s career from someone who was doing decent sort of trade in British movies. He was busy. He was working. But then Sherlock made him this mega star that he is today. And spawned this renewal of the Sherlock Holmes fandom, which has really been around since the 1890s.

So, Sherlock Holmes is a character that has instilled a lot of fervor in people for over 100 years. Myself included. So, before we really dive into the fandom as a whole, this is not going to be a super academic break down of the Sherlock fandom or the drama conspiracy. It’s not going to be a gossipy fandom drama run-down. There are some really interesting deep dives into the larger sort of fandom conspiracy that occurred within the Sherlock fandom that we’ll link in the show notes. Because it is very, very interesting.

But for me it really started out as a show that I just really enjoyed. I watched the first series, the first season. They’re called “series” in England. That’s been the Sherlock fandom mostly, how you refer to the seasons of Sherlock as “series.” I watched the first series in December of 2010. I watched all three episodes over my Christmas break from college and absolutely fell in love. And was already on Tumblr and hadn’t really actually used Tumblr for fandom stuff at that point beyond music fandom. And so I started to dive deep into the Sherlock tag and it led me to AO3 as well, which I believe at that time was a still pretty new website in the grand scheme of things. And I started reading fan fiction again, which I hadn’t done since I was 16.

It was just a really, really wonderful time on Tumblr. Cherokee, I don’t know if you remember that time with the Sherlock fandom or if you were watching the show yourself when it was being released?

Cherokee: I was not, actually. I have seen a few episodes of Sherlock. I watched the first series in college when it came out. I had a friend studying abroad in England, I went and visited her, and instead of doing anything she was like, “I have discovered this show. Let’s watch it.” And that’s what we did the whole time. I was with her a weekend in London and we watched Sherlock.

Lauren: I love that.

(laughter)

Cherokee: So, I have seen the first season. I have now watched most of it. I have two episodes left. I wasn’t able to fit them all in. And again, that is entirely my fault. Because of my For All Mankind fixation for the past couple of weeks. But I’m familiar, as someone who lurked and was scrolling during the time. Also we did a Q&A with Mark Gatiss and Stephen Moffit. We did an answer time in 2018, which we can also link in the podcast so you guys can all jump into it and learn ... I’ll also drop it in here for you, too.

Lauren: Please.

Cherokee: So, you can take a gander at it.

Lauren: I’m fascinated that took place in 2018. Because the first season came out in 2010, then the final season, or rather the fourth season that sort of has become defacto the final season came out in January of 2017. And so I’m really interested that they did that answer time in 2018, because that was a decent amount of time after the show had, for all intents and purposes, ended.

Cherokee: I think they were doing a Sherlock themed escape room or event or something.

Lauren: What’s interesting, to me, about some of the Sherlock fandom in the grand scheme of SuperWhoLock ... and I think just to set expectations, it will probably be a while until we do Dr. Who on this show, just because neither Cherokee, nor I, are huge, huge devotees of the show. We will want to get somebody on who is. But Dr. Who is sort of its own thing. It’s always had its really loyal fans. It’s been running forever. It’s constantly reinventing itself with the new doctors, et cetera. Supernatural, as we know, ran for such a long time, has such a dedicated fandom that will continue to live on past the show for the rest of time.

And Sherlock is kind of interesting in that, like I said, there have always been Sherlock Holmes fans, this show in particular really drew a massive, very active fandom. But since the end of the show, the fandom has really not gone dormant. There are still lots of people making fan art, a lot of people making fan fiction, a lot of people talking about the show still. But it’s certainly not to the degree that it was at its heyday. And I think that is in part, at least for me as a fan of the show, kind of because how things ended up going within the Tumblr eco system specifically.

So, when I was watching the show I fell in love with it because I love Sherlock Holmes. I always have. In seventh grade I went as Shirley Holmes a gender bent Sherlock Holmes for Halloween. (laughs) So, it’s like I was the target audience for this. And for the first time ever I found myself shipping Sherlock and John in watching this show, which is just something that people have done pretty much since Sherlock Holmes was first invented. There have been lots of queer readings of the text since, I think, the earliest sort of documented one in the 1940s. But this is not a new phenomenon of people shipping Sherlock Holmes and John Watson together.

But this was the first time that I had personally sort of seen the chemistry between them. Because Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman are fantastic together. They have great chemistry. The show does sort of wink at Sherlock’s ambiguous sexuality. And the fact that he and John have this incredibly co-dependent life partnership where they are each other’s most important person.

For me, as a viewer of the show, I was really enjoying the whole show and then anything I wasn’t getting from the show I was getting from the fandom, because the fan art and the fan fiction and the fan sort of chatter around the show was just phenomenal. And then after season three things kind of changed a little bit in the Tumblr eco system.

And I think what’s really interesting about experiencing the Sherlock fandom on Tumblr, specifically – like, why we’re talking about this on this podcast – is that I had friends in my real life who were big Sherlock watchers who even shipped Johnlock, who maybe read fan fiction, but who weren’t on Tumblr and had no idea that any of this was going on.

For me, a lot of what happened from season three onwards was beginning to sort of dominate the circles of Tumblr that I was in. So, in short, and once again we’ll link to the deeper dives around the Johnlock conspiracy as it became known. TJLC. But basically it was this idea, and still is this idea, which we’ll talk about in a little bit, that not only are John and Sherlock in love in the show, but that the show is building up to them becoming a romantic couple. And that there is all of this evidence in the text of the show that suggest that Moftiss, as they’re called (Stephen Moffit and Mark Gatiss collectively are Moftiss). There’s all this evidence in the show that tells the audience that Moftiss is planning this. And that eventually Johnlock will become canon because it has been intricately signaled by the show itself.

And this was something that came out of sort of this huge meta post that somebody put up after season three that then a couple of other users saw and were talking amongst themselves and said, “It’s like the Johnlock conspiracy.” And then that kind of became the name for the whole conspiracy. And that sort of started to take over the Johnlock tag. I was not necessarily following any TJLC’ers as far as I knew. And yet I was still seeing a ton of that stuff on my dash because I was a Johnlock shipper and I was following Johnlock blogs and increasingly there were these discussions within the fandom around if you are a Johnlock shipper or if you were a Johnlock shipper that really believed that it was going to go canon.

As often happens with these things kind of end up creating this fissure between parts of the fandom. There were a couple of sort of fandom blow-ups where people were sort of getting angry at other people and it was trickling into the larger fandom tag. And then after season four, when nothing went canon and it was pretty clear that despite the creators saying that they were open to a season five, that that was not going to be planned imminently and that season four was kind of the end as far as we knew it. Things really kind of cratered from there because you had all of these people who were really disappointed by season four and then you had other people who were really disappointed by season four, but really believe that season five is still coming and that it’s going to correct things.

Really, what that equals to, regardless of what side you’re on, is that just everybody was kind of bummed. Which is a bummer when you’re in a fandom, especially that has so much wonderful fan works being made. Right? There’s so much great fan fiction. There’s so much great fan art. That for me as someone who was really enjoying all of that stuff and somebody who was enjoying the show, but who also was deeply disappointed by season four, for a number of reasons, my experience with the Tumblr fandom being consumed by this argument around the ship that a lot of us, or a lot of the people I was following, we all shipped the ship, that was not the issue – kind of made it difficult to engage.

So, it was really interesting to dive back into the tag this week and kind of see what I was talking about with Sherlock and the things I was reacting to and see what was still active now. And remember, oh my god, this ship and this show consumed my life. And I’m being drawn right back into it. I want to read fan fic again. I want to dive deep into the tag again. I remember having such a good time with this. And the fourth season and the subsequent fall out within the fandom was sort of so difficult at the time that I just walked away from the fandom for a while, which I think a lot of people did. And I think a lot of people have also experienced in a lot of other fandom’s as well.

Cherokee: Yeah, absolutely. I mean, from someone who obviously when I first initially watched the first season didn’t know anything about any of the discourse around it and also I think it was pre-discourse, honestly. It’s like 2014, 2013? And then now having watched it, I feel like I texted you after watching two episodes and I was like, “Excuse, me. How is Johnlock not canon?” Because it is so-

Lauren: Yeah.

Cherokee: They’re not hinting at it, they’re slapping you in the face with it. I mean, the first episode, he moves in with Sherlock just kind of immediately. There’s that kind of flirty back and forth where Sherlock is like, “My work is my marriage. I’m married to my work.” And so he’s not being like, “No, I’m not into you.” He’s just saying he’s focused on his work. And then there are so many ... When John gets engaged and the land lady whose name is escaping me at this moment.

Lauren: Mrs. Hudson.

Cherokee: Mrs. Hudson is like, “To a woman? You’re engaged to a woman?” It’s so in your face. They’re obviously in love with each other.

Lauren: Exactly. And I know that there are lots of Sherlock viewers and a lot of people who are active in the Sherlock fandom on Tumblr who were not Johnlock shippers at all. Or who ship different ships, or just want them to be platonic friends. And those people are completely valid and I love you, you’re great. I hope that you had a great time in the Sherlock fandom, despite the fact that a lot of it was Johnlock shipping.

But yeah, I was completely on the train of these two guys are in love. I personally did not believe that the show was going to make it canon. But then also I would see these meta posts and be like, “Well, you make some good points.” And to sort of, I guess, admit something that I’ve never admitted before around my own relationship with the Johnlock conspiracy, which is called the Johnlock Conspiracy and it is a conspiracy theory and I think that’s something that a lot of the people believe it don’t shy away from because it involves a lot of very deep reading of the text, connecting all of these dots, really intricate sort of red string type stuff. It also involves believing that Moftiss have been actively lying to everybody for years, which tends to be a central tenant of conspiracy theories.

On that particular side of things, we know for a fact that creators and the Moftiss specifically do lie to us. Right? That is a huge part of Marvel’s marketing machine. Right? Is having Andrew Garfield on late night talk shows being like, “Oh, yeah, I’m so excited to see the Spider Man movie. I wish I was in it. But best of luck to them.” And of course he shows up on screen in the Spider Man movie. So, that to me is like not outlandish really to think. And if it turned out that everything was true and the Moftiss had intended it all along I’d be like, “Great. Fantastic! They didn’t need to put us through that much pain for that long.” (laughs)

But the piece of it that really got me, and that I sort of didn’t put together – why and how this was so appealing to me at the time. So, season four premiered New Year’s Day as all the season except for season one, did. In 2017. And I was home that month back in New York, sort of staying with my parents. And I was watching each Sunday. Sherlock was on and I was watching the episode. And the week of the finale premiere a couple of things happened. I believe the Russian dub of the finale got leaked online somehow. And so people started watching it and writing about what the finale was. And everybody was like, “Are we being trolled? This doesn’t sound like a Sherlock episode. This sounds really weird. What’s going on?”

And then the finale premiered and the thing that was sort of most baffling to me was that it just didn’t feel like a Sherlock episode at all. It felt like this very weird ... somebody compared it to, I think this was a critic, an episode that was like a Saw movie. Because it involved John and Sherlock and Mycroft going through this series of rooms that were all orchestrated by Sherlock’s secret sister who was kind of psychic. It all just felt very out of left field and strange.

Cherokee: The secret sister thing was interesting, I will say.

Lauren: It was interesting.

Cherokee: Yeah. (laughs)

Lauren: And we all kind of knew because Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman’s careers were getting so busy and the show had gotten so big. We sort of knew that this was going to be the last episode for a long time, if not forever. And so it was really hard to stomach that the final episode of the show that you dedicated so much of your love and energy to doesn’t actually feel like an episode of that show. And so there was this conspiracy that was going around online that the next week, the following Sunday in the Sherlock time slot, a BBC show called Apple Tree Yard was taking over that time slot. And there was a conspiracy that actually Apple Tree Yard was not a real show and that was going to be a secret real finale of Sherlock.

And I remember just scrolling Tumblr Sunday night, seeing this theory going around, having just watched this finale and being like, “Well, maybe.” And of course that’s not what happened. Apple Tree Yard was a real show that ran on the BBC. But as I was sort of revisiting this time period of my life I realized this was January of 2017. The reason that I was home is because the 2016 election had happened a few months earlier. I went home for Thanksgiving. I stayed through Christmas. And then I stayed through the end of January so that my sister and I could go to the march in DC at the end of the month. And also me and my family were just like reeling with the results of the 2016 election. It was an incredibly dark time. It was an incredibly ... it was just very, very bleak.

And looking back on it now I’m so able to recognize, oh my god, I was just so sad. I was so isolated. I was feeling so scared about the world. That the idea that there was this conspiracy about a secret actual finale of the show that I loved where I didn’t like the finale very much, is incredible appealing to me. That I’m actually going to kind of let myself believe it for a week. So, that’s the closest that I came to sort of really believing the Johnlock conspiracy. (laughs) And I really get it. I get it from all sides. I get why people still believe it now. Because to bring it back to sort of the season five prospect, Moftiss have said that they have a plan for season five, and it’s just a matter of scheduling and all of that kind of stuff. And that they would like to do it someday.

And there is, as far as I can tell on Tumblr, sort of diving into the TJLC tag some people think that January 1, 2023, which is the day that all of Sherlock Holmes becomes public domain ... there’s a couple of stories that are still under copyright and January 1st of next year they all enter public domain. The copyright expires. January 1st will be the premiere of season five, because the show would always premiere on New Year’s Day.

So, you know, for those of you out there who still believe, I hope you get what you want. I understand wanting more of the show. Because just spending a week diving back into the tag I remembered what I loved about it. And what I loved about the fandom, which was that you had incredible fan artists, incredible fan fiction writers, and also people who were writing these incredibly in-depth meta posts around the lighting in the show, the costuming in the show, the set design in the show, the parallels from episode to episode, season to season. And whether those things were intended or not by the creators, it was really lovely to see people apply such analysis to something that I loved. And think so deeply about this thing that we were all enjoying collectively, even if at times things maybe got a little bit out of hand.

Cherokee: Just like in March 2022. What do you do? You go straight and you watch the thing you love. You go on Tumblr and you look at all the stuff about it. You get really passionate about a thing that is so low stakes in the grand scheme of things. I completely ... I do exactly the same.

By the way, one of the answers in the Sherlock answer time ... user Milk-Bag asked, “When can we expect the next season of Sherlock to come out?” And the answer is, “The future.”

Lauren: Interesting.

Cherokee: And that was 2018.

Lauren: Yeah.

Cherokee: Yeah. So ...

Lauren: You know, everything gets re-booted. Everything comes back. Never say never. It could happen. It’s so interesting how fandom’s can kind of get so big and get so passionate that they sort of eat themselves a little bit. I think that this is something ... I have friends in my non Tumblr life who love the show and it’s still one of their favorite shows and they still think of it very, very fondly. Because they weren’t sort of deeply entrenched in the fandom. All of those people were also very disappointed by the finale. (laughs)

I think something that was particularly interested for me as a big sort of transformative works person, I love fan fiction, I love fan art, I love head canons, all of that kind of stuff. It’s also interesting to see the other side of fandom and see more of the curative fandom, right? The analysis, the really engaging with the text and only the text. And I think that Sherlock really had both in abundance.

I abide and hope that all of those sides of fandom can get along and that everybody can be nice to each other, ‘cause as sometimes happens on Tumblr and in other internet spaces, there was some very bad behavior and it’s never okay to be mean to people on the internet. But yeah, I think that it’s something ... I think getting to witness people be passionate about something is always a real gift. And I have to say, diving back into the Sherlock tag I was excited to see that there was still some active folks.

One of the trends that I was seeing a lot of, which I really dig is Fleabaglock, which is people taking quotes from Fleabag and putting them over Sherlock screen caps or gifs. And boy oh boy. There was one, I’ll re-blog it to our Dashboard Diaries blog, that just made me feel all the Johnlock feels that I was like, oh god, I’m going to have to dive back into my AO3 bookmarks and revisit the ship. Because I am having the feelings again.

Cherokee: And I will say, Moriarty, I know he’s pure evil ... I love him.

Lauren: Oh, of course.

Cherokee: I would do anything for him. Also, Johnlockiarty ... Why don’t they-

Lauren: Ooh! OT3?

Cherokee: You know? Yeah, like a nice little polycule.

Lauren: Yep.

Cherokee: Johnlock can solve the crimes that Moriarty commits.

Lauren: Such cute ways of flirting, just committing crimes and having your partner solve them.

Cherokee: Yeah, he can leave little clues, which he already does. Because he has a crush on both of them, because he wants them to show up everywhere they go.

Lauren: Yes. 100%

Cherokee: Obviously. (laughs) I mean, come on, the whole thing with the taxi cab and the video in the back of the cab. He loves him. He loves him.

Lauren: Oh yeah.

Cherokee: This is flirting. Everyone in Sherlock is in love with each other – is my take away from that show.

Lauren: I love that. I think that is a perfect place to sort of wrap up our Sherlock deep dive. And head to a quick break.

Cherokee: And after the break we’ll play a little Sherlock quiz game.

[Exciting synth music]

Cherokee: Lauren?

Lauren: Yes?

Cherokee: For this segment of fan fiction versus fan fact.

[Rolling synth music]

So, I have four quotes for you. The first one is: So, you joined a cult.

The second one is: You’re thinking, it’s annoying.

The third one: Suddenly, I’m Mr. Sex.

And the fourth: Brilliant impression of an idiot.

Lauren: Okay. I know the second one. I know that’s something that Sherlock says. I am pretty sure three is something that Moriarty says. I think it’s “So, you joined a cult.” I think that’s the fan fic. No!?

Cherokee: It is. No, you are correct.

[positive beeping sound]

Lauren: Oh, it is. Okay.

Cherokee: “So, you joined a cult,” is a quote from Dr. Strange.

Lauren: Oh, brilliant.

Cherokee: But you got it right.

Lauren: I have seen the show a lot, Cherokee.

Cherokee: You foiled me. Honestly, I was like, “How do I find ...” every quote I wrote down, “She’s going to know this!”

Laruen: No, I think you did fairly well. I did have to think about it. I did.

Cherokee: You had to ponder.

(Laughter)

I’ll get you next time. So, the next one is less of a quiz and more of a question. And I want everyone listening along as well to ponder this question, too. As we know, Sherlock has a mind palace.

Lauren: Mm hmm (Affirmative).

Cherokee: And as we know, Tumblr is our internet bunker.

Lauren: Mm hmm (Affirmative).

Cherokee: What do you have? Mind palace? Mind swamp? Mind shack? Mind forest? What’s going on up there?

Lauren: Interesting. Have you seen Severance?

Cherokee: Yes. Twice.

Lauren: That’s what’s going on up there. Sometimes when I think about stuff and I’m trying to recall something, I’ll imagine a little person walking down a really long row of filing cabinets. I think it’s like a very blank and dower office. (laughs) What about you? What do you have?

Cherokee: So, I was thinking about this and I do think it’s a swamp.

Lauren: (laughs) Like Shrek?

Cherokee: Like, I was thinking Shrek at first, but it’s more like the swamp from the Princess Bride.

Lauren: Okay. With the enormous rats?

Cherokee: Like the Fire Swamp.

(laughter)

Where it’s like any wrong move ... it’s like, “Oh, no, I didn’t want to think that.” I would say that is like-

Lauren: I love that.

Cherokee: ... that chaotic mind swamp up there. Yeah.

Lauren: That is amazing.

Cherokee: For those listening at home or wherever you may be, tell us where your mind location or situation is.

Lauren: Yeah, what’s going on up there?

Cherokee: What’s going on up there?

Lauren: Tell us.

Cherokee: Send us a voice note, send us an artistic depiction, a painting. You know?

Lauren: Ooh.

Cherokee: I would love to see everyone’s interpretation of what their mind palace or mind space is.

Lauren: I love this.

Cherokee: Up next, we have our Fandom Forecast.

[Fantasy keyboard music]

What’s going on? What trends do we see? What is afoot? What have you been looking at this week, Lauren? Or looking forward to?

Lauren: What have I been looking forward to? I mean, I have been seeing a lot of What We Do In The Shadows on my dash, and I imagine I’ll continue to see a lot of that as it gets deeper into the season. I’ve been seeing a word this week that has been on Tumblr for a little while, but for whatever reason has started to gain ground over the last week. And I think I’m going to declare this the Word of the Week!

[fanfare music]

Our very first one. I think I’m going to be seeing more and more of it. Which is “Scrumpt.” Scrumpt as a past tense of scream. You scrumpt a scream.

Cherokee: Put it in the dictionary.

(laughter)

Lauren: So, I think I’m going to see my dash, in particular, using the word “scrumpt” more. I predict myself using the word “scrumpt” more, because I just learned it.

Cherokee: I mean, you’re already scrumpt’ing in the tags. So ...

Lauren: Exactly. So, what about you? What are you seeing sort of behind the scenes at Tumblr that’s coming up?

Cherokee: Behind the scenes. So, I mean, not unsurprisingly, What We Do In The Shadows has overtaken Tumblr in the last week. Especially ... that show is just made for shipping.

Lauren: Oh yeah.

Cherokee: Also, I know I mentioned this last episode, but nope. Which is coming out, it came out yesterday.

Lauren: Yes. Yeah.

Cherokee: And first off, Keke Palmer’s press tour, everyone is obsessed with every interview she did. She’s so funny. And her opening monologue, everyone has been talking about. I have not seen Nope yet, but I have seen a lot of Keke Palmer videos, clips, gifs. She does a really great Angela Basset impression.

Lauren: Oh, I love that.

Cherokee: So, also trending this week, which is something I’m not super familiar with was Goat Simulator. Which is a game-

Lauren: Yes.

Cherokee: Have you played it?

Lauren: I have not. But I’m playing Stray right now. And I know that Stray is kind of a similar game to Goat Simulator.

Cherokee: Well, which is interesting, yeah. ‘Cause Stray and Goat Simulator are both on the fandom list. And then Untitled Goose Game is what was really trending apparently. And not Goat Simulator. And that was where people were really getting excited about, Untitled Goose Game, which is similar to Goat Simulator, which is similar to Stray. Maybe there should be a crossover with all three.

Lauren: I would love that.

Cherokee: Yeah, I’ll have to check them out. I was scrolling through the tag and just looking at the post. And Goat Simulator looks like Untitled Goose Game in the chaos realm of things. All of every screen cap looked completely chaotic. One of them, they’re also you can have an avatar that’s a human, too, because there was one of someone riding a goat.

Lauren: Oh. We have questions.

Cherokee: Again, I love finding out about things by just looking at the Tumblr tags.

Lauren: Oh yeah.

(laughter)

Cherokee: And with that, we are going to mosey on over to the Feels Corner. It’s near the end of the episode. Do you know where your blorbo’s are?

[Light romantic tones]

Lauren: So, my blorbo’s this week, it’s definitely been a week of time travel for me. What with diving back into the Sherlock fandom. And the other fandom that for whatever reason was popping up on my dash this week, because it pops up periodically but for whatever reason just had me by the throat was Hannibal. Every now and then a Hannibal post will cross my dash and I will completely lose my shit and just ... that’s my afternoon.

It was really nice to go back to 2012, 2013 in my head and have my collection of Johnlock and Hannigram blorbo’s. It was lovely.

Cherokee: Which is honestly perfect, because I saw a lot of comparisons between the Hannigram ship and the Johnlock ship.

Lauren: Mm hmm (Affirmative). Yeah.

Cherokee: Lots of comparisons drawn and also I saw a good post that has images of both ships and it says, “Are you the do crimes or the solve crimes type of gay?”

(laughter)

Which I love.

Lauren: That is perfect. (laughs)

Cherokee: Why not both?

Lauren: Why not both? Will Graham is both. He solves crimes and does crimes in Hannibal.

Cherokee: Yes, he does. You are very right.

Lauren: How about you, Cherokee? Where are your blorbo’s this week?

Cherokee: My blorbo’s are For All Mankind.

Lauren: Hell yes.

Cherokee: Yeah, my sleep schedule has been replaced by this television show.

(laughter)

And Molly and Wayne Cobb’s specifically. I don’t know if you can have a couple as blorbo’s but I think you can-

Lauren: Yeah, absolutely.

Cherokee: I just love both Molly and Wayne individually and as a couple. First off, healthiest relationship on that show by just-

Lauren: Bar none.

Cherokee: ... a million miles. And also just the most well adjusted and down to earth H’ank.

(laughter)

Characters on the show, too. I really love them both. I will say where I am in the show now, I’m not feeling great about where things are going. (laughs)

Lauren: Yeah. Oh boy.

Cherokee: Oh no. Maybe I’ll have to do that thing where I just stop watching. Which is something ...

Lauren: No.

Cherokee: Hope starts to go downhill and I’m like, “You know what? If the show ended here, they’re okay, right?”

Lauren: They’re okay. Nothing bad will ever happen to them.

Cherokee: Yeah. Keep them safe. If you don’t watch the finale, everyone is safe and fine.

Lauren: That’s true.

Cherokee: That’s how I feel about the Killing Eve finale, too.

Lauren: That’s very fair.

Cherokee: It didn’t happen. Yeah. So, yeah, I would say Molly and Wayne, big blorbo’s this week. And then another time capsule blorbo ... I actually didn’t just watch these movies in the past week, but I think about them all the time and specifically Alan Cumming in Spice World and Josie and the Pussycats.

Lauren: Oh yeah.

Cherokee: He plays a similar character in both. First he’s the documentary in Spice World and then Josie in the Pussycats he’s the music manager or agent. And I just ... what an icon. What a star. I found out recently that Alan Cumming owns a club in New York called Club Cumming.

Lauren: (laughs) And you have to go.

Cherokee: And I know where I’m hosting my 30th birthday. Yeah.

Lauren: Yep. You have to go there immediately.

Cherokee: Yep. (laughs) Or a Dashboard Diaries Meet up at Club Cumming. Everyone.

Lauren: Well, in speaking of our delightful Dashboard Diaries, we have a couple of your feels to share this week in our Feels Corner. And so stay tuned to the end of the episode to hear some listener feels.

Cherokee: And submit your feels for next one, too.

Lauren: Yes.

Cherokee: Keep feelin’.

Lauren: Yeah. [email protected]. Send us a 30 seconds or less voice memo about your feels. And with that we have come to the end of Dashboard Diaries. I am Lauren Shippen and you can find me at the LaurenShippen.Tumblr.com, or you may already be following me on my secret blog with my Sherlock memes and I’ll never let you know what that blog is.

Cherokee: I’m Cherokee McAnelly and you can find me at chero.Tumblr.com. This has been Dashboard Diaries. And ...

Lauren: May our anons always be loving.

Cherokee: Your dash always refreshed.

Lauren: Your gifs always be loading.

Cherokee: And your ships always canon.

Lauren: May the fics you’re reading always be finished.

Cherokee: And the answers you seek always in the re-blogs.

Lauren: Thanks for scrolling with us.

Dear Dashboard Diaries, my name is Lindsay and my current obsession is the TV show, What We Do In The Shadows. Season Four just started airing and there is long awaited pining, over all hilarity, and of course the inherent romanticism of vampires. Consider this a warning, because it will probably top the trending page every Tuesday for the next couple of months.

My name is Mallory and I finished Our Flag Means Death at 2:53 AM on Sunday, June 26th. Which means as of recording I am 20 days, 14 hours, and 57 minutes into this fandom. And it is my whole personality. 235,287 words of fan fic read. 61 hours, 49 minutes, 31 seconds of fan vids watched on YouTube. 94 TikTok’s liked. 18 Tumblr’s followed. Countless feels felt. And absolutely no sign of slowing. Here there be queer pirates and I am in!

[outro synth music]

#sherlock #johnlock #tjlc #dashboard diaries #podcast #tumblr #episode #DD 02 #cherokee mcanelly #lauren shippen #fandom #transcript #Spotify

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wherevermyway · 4 years ago

Text

the FiVE:RACHA project (1/7) // black mirror AU // 18+

chapter one: freedom series navigation: [desktop] [mobile]

⚠ POTENTIAL TW: READ WITH CAUTION! ⚠ pairings: lee minho x kim seungmin | hwang hyunjin x lee felix x yang jeongin | bang chan x seo changbin x han jisung rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: creator chose not to use archive warnings, descent into madness, horror, thriller, technological implants, blood and gore, alcohol abuse, some sexual content in later chapters but it’s not, like, smut. word count: 3,101 also on AO3

PS: i made a carrd for this. check it out if you’re interested!

originally posted: 26 december 2020

Several years ago, five men created a website for South Korea's international rap sensation, 3RACHA. The website, The FiVE:RACHA Project, was almost as popular as the group themselves. About two years after the website went live, FiVE:RACHA had the opportunity to meet 3RACHA.

Immediately after they meet, the members of FiVE:RACHA and 3RACHA go missing. The FiVE:RACHA Project website is down. Their Twitter account has been deactivated, and 3RACHA stops posting. A few months after their meetup, it was announced that 3RACHA had disbanded. Nobody knows what happened to either group.

Nobody knows, until now.

For some, modern day fame comes at a price that is too high to pay.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

// note: with other darker stuff i post, i’m not totally sure i’ll post the entirety of this fic on tumblr. if not, i’ll do a little notice post for people interested to keep following it on AO3.

...Do you wish to proceed? To learn the truth of FiVE:RACHA and 3RACHA?

What is the true price of fame?

A Foreword:

Several years ago, there was a fan site, The FiVE:RACHA Project, dedicated to South Korea’s most famous rap group, 3RACHA. One day, it went down without notice. The site, as well as their Twitter account with over four million followers, was almost as well-known as the rap group itself.

3RACHA mysteriously disbanded several months after FiVE:RACHA went down. Nobody has seen or heard from the members of either group since the disbandment. There are several theories and myths surrounding the disappearances of both groups, but most of them are incorrect.

Be aware that, no, FiVE:RACHA did not go down because the site moderators were bored of 3RACHA. No, 3RACHA did not disband because Supreme Entertainment was about to collapse due to widespread fraud and their political scandals within the Korean government.

The stories of FiVE:RACHA and 3RACHA are very much deeply intertwined within each other, and the truth is uncomfortable to witness.

This novel’s authors, comprised of some of the most loyal fans of both groups, will remain anonymous and stay in hiding due to fear of being caught by the one responsible for the disappearances. An individual outside of our group found a Shinyu of someone involved in this, someone discarded in the Han River many years ago. How the implant survived with no living host for so long is beyond remarkable.

In case the Shinyu is defunct or replaced by the time you’re reading this, allow us to explain. The name comes from “close friend” in Japanese, likely as a play on words for how close the implant gets to its host, both physically and socially. The Shinyu was created in Tokyo in 2025; it is a small technological implant embedded under the skin of the right side of everyone’s temples.

Everyone has one placed at thirteen, and it encodes all of our visual, tactile, and auditory data, syncing it to our phones and uploading it to personal servers in the cloud. The data is encrypted, and requires access from both the Shinyu and the phone to decipher. It allows us to integrate technology into our daily lives, records our memories and important moments, but there is a price we all pay for this. Critics have been outspoken about this since its inception, but the governments never listened.

Alas, we digress. The Shinyu is vital to uncovering so much information that has been hidden and speculated on after all this time. Regardless of our personal opinions regarding the ethics of the device, we are grateful that we were able to obtain one of the implants. It has been vital to connect a lot of the missing pieces of the greater picture.

The authors have spent years decoding the information from this implant. Thanks to an anonymous source, we were able to obtain the personal computer of someone in FiVE:RACHA, personal cell phones of both groups, access to the database of Supreme Entertainment and its defunct myIdol data, some declassified legal information, and archives of both FiVE:RACHA and 3RACHA’s Twitter accounts.

Why have we chosen to extrapolate all of this data in the form of a novel? Perhaps we would like it to serve as a modern day parable for the plights of technology being so intricately interwoven between us all now. We, as humans, are now one with technology. Technology is literally embedded into us. It is astounding that technology allows us to interact so closely with famed idols now, beyond some barriers that critics have denounced for being inappropriate or unhealthy.

Some of us may pay the ultimate price for this.

Some of us, unfortunately, already have.

However interconnected we are with technology and how close we can get to those of which we idolize in society, though, humans will still crave entertainment. That is why this was written almost as a work of fiction. Those that pay attention to the story will be rewarded. Maybe not immediately, and maybe only after self-reflection, but readers will be rewarded. That much can be promised.

Above all else, we cannot stress enough that modern day fame and convenience comes at a price that is too high for some to pay. Stay safe, err on the side of caution. Disconnect from your Shinyu if you choose to proceed any further, because you never know who is watching.

— Curators of The FiVE:RACHA Project

One: Freedom

Nobody really knows who exactly manages FiVE:RACHA, just that it’s a group of five fans that run a fansite for the popular rap group 3RACHA. Their website is the most well-known and widely used out of the millions of fans that are out there. It always has live updates for the members: Bang Chan, Seo Changbin, and Han Jisung. There are daily paparazzi photos of at least one of them slapped up on the front page, embedded social media posts from each of the members updated as soon as they post, and hard-to-find facts about each of them.

Hell, one of the FiVE:RACHA members went through and coded up a section of the site dedicated to decoding natal charts for each of the members. Again, like most things about FiVE:RACHA, the source of this information was a mystery. Nobody’s sure exactly how they obtained 3RACHA’s birth times and locations. Some had speculated that it happened the same day the government had announced that there was a security breach of some of their databases, because the timing was oddly convenient.

To most casual fans, it sometimes felt really fucking weird to have so much information on idols readily available at their fingertips. However, to 3RACHA’s most dedicated, most obsessed fans, it was perfect. Exactly what they wanted. Their work seemed well-appreciated by the broader community, since the amount of Twitter followers FiVE:RACHA had was comparable to 3RACHA’s following, nearly half of their total count: 4,100,000 to 8,500,000.

There was nothing else that could compare to the controlled insanity that The FiVE:RACHA Project had to offer.

The FiVE:RACHA website was an international sensation, known to most 3RACHA fans, even those that opposed it. There was even a small, but growing, fanbase for the members of FiVE:RACHA, something that was slightly worrisome to them, but they had remained anonymous for so long, they weren’t really overtly concerned over it.

“This article is bullshit, man. ‘Controlled insanity’? None of this is controlled, it’s just insanity.”

Idle hums and trills of various electronics thrum in a dark room. Two young men stare at several computer monitors in a daze, lost in their own worlds as a ticker tape-like feed of coding and statistics flew past them on screen.“Let ‘em talk, dude,” the younger-looking man with blue hair scoots away from his computer and sighs. “Fuckin’ gossip rags. Anyway, I can’t stare at this CSS anymore. I can’t figure out why the embedded feeds are busted. Can you take over on this, Seung?”

The slightly older man with short, shaggy black hair rolls his neck, snapping some joints, not bothering to look away from his screens. “Yeah, yeah,” he stops poring over the article written about them on one screen, tabbing away to another. He cracks the knuckles in his fingers, and waves his hand in the air as he taps a couple of keys on his keyboard. “Go take a break, Jeongin. Hyunjin was looking for you, anyways. Probably got something good from a source of his, since he’s in one of his giddy moods.”

As Seungmin settles into his work, Jeongin chuckles as he stands up and stretches. He takes a couple steps over to the other computer desk and pats the older man on the back. “Thanks, dude,” he says with a smile and walks out of the server room, out into the hallway that leads into the open living room of their flat. The ambient humming of the room stops as he shuts the door, now replaced by the sound of his feet shuffling, the muffled noises echoing against the hardwood floor.

Five men all lived and worked in this large apartment together: Yang Jeongin, Kim Seungmin, Hwang Hyunjin, Lee Felix, and Lee Minho. Collectively, this was where they lived and breathed The FiVE:RACHA Project. Running the largest, most extensive fansite for South Korea’s most famous rap group, 3RACHA, was more than a full-time job. They all equally poured their hearts and souls into maintaining the website and their Twitter account. It proved to be almost too much for five people alone to handle as their shifts sometimes went from twelve hours and bled into sixteen, sometimes twenty-four hour shifts.

Minho, the leader, didn’t trust anyone but the original five to the project, however. Jeongin could hear the oldest man’s airy voice echo in his ears: “I trusted the four of you with this. Now, it’s devolved into something I don’t even recognize. There’s no way anyone deserves to see what we’ve done. Imagine if it got out that we were the ones in charge of this monstrosity?”

Jeongin glided into the kitchen, and pulled his phone out of his back pocket, eyeing the time. 13:36. He had another hour left of his shift, and he was exhausted after yesterday’s all-nighter. 33 hours of work, with only a small nap in between was rough on anyone, and he was starting to feel it, physically. His Shinyu Implant would ping him once every hour that he was very low on sleep, reminding him that it was unhealthy to go without sleep for so long and that he would not be able to drive. As he slinked his way to the fridge, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and yawned. He opened the fridge, the contents in the shelves of the door clattering as they abruptly shifted around.

The first thing he saw was a bottle of unsweetened coffee and, while he knew he shouldn’t drink caffeine within a few hours of hopeful sleep, Jeongin went against his instincts and reached for the bottle anyways. As he opened it, the cracking of the seal reverberated against all of the hard surfaces and sounded much louder than it should have, startling the man awake a bit.

He hated unsweetened coffee, but there was no way he would make it through another hour or so of coding maintenance without it. Jeongin polished off the entire bottle within seconds, grimacing in disgust the entire time. He tapped his right temple twice, and grumbled. “Set reminder, after work: grocery shopping. Have Hyunjin drive. Add to list: energy drinks. The good kind, none of that berry-flavoured shit.” A very faint, nearly inaudible ding responds after he’s done speaking, and Jeongin moves to discard the bottle into the recycling bin.

“Innie?” Almost as if the devil himself heard Jeongin’s request, a familiar voice rounded the corner of the kitchen. “Oh, good, I thought that was you. Anyway, you won’t believe the content I got from Yeji at Seoul Scoop, dude,” the lanky, beacon-like blond grins wildly at Jeongin, walking into the kitchen. “I actually got a photo of Chan and Changbin looking awfully close at KNECT’s backstage event a couple days ago. Think they were celebrating their recent win a little too hard.”

Hyunjin proudly slaps a grainy photo down on the countertop, where Changbin is sitting in Chan’s lap, arms wrapped around the older man’s neck. Sure, it could easily be explained away as friendly closeness, since everyone knew that all of the guys were very close friends, and the area was cramped. The photo, however, would cause a lot of panic within the community.

Jeongin smirked as he eyed the photo, taking it into his fingers and bringing it up close to his face. “The shippers are going to have a field day over this, you know.”

“I know,” Hyunjin shakes some of his hair out of his face as he arrogantly places a hand on his hip, shifting his weight to one side. “It’ll be great traffic for the site. I’ll have Seungmin put it on the front page later.” He takes a couple of steps closer to Jeongin and pulls the younger man to his chest, stroking his hair down. “I love you, but you look like shit. Why not call it a little early today?”

Jeongin shook his head, burying his nose into the older man’s shoulder, letting his eyes flutter shut with a sigh. “Seungmin and I are trying to fix a string of broken code that’s causing the social media feed to bug out a little bit. Definitely wanna have that fixed before we upload this.”

A clattering of keys startles both of the younger men, causing them to look behind Hyunjin. “Don’t worry about it, Jeongin,” a third voice speaks from the entrance of the kitchen. “Seriously, you worked really hard yesterday, and I’m sure we’ll manage. I’ll be sure to wake up Felix a little earlier and we’ll fix the coding.”

“You’re home early, Minho,” Jeongin chuckles once as he nods. “Figured you’d be stuck in the office for a few more hours.”

“Nah,” Minho dismissively waves his hand in the air as he walks over to the sink, rinsing his hands. “Seungmin called me earlier and said you were nodding off at your desk, asked me to come home early.”

A look of guilt washed over Jeongin’s face. “Shit, my bad.”

“Don’t apologize,” Minho smiles as he towels off his hands. “I appreciate all of the work you did yesterday; completely revamping the social media section was hard. But I can’t have you possibly miscode something and have it break the site because you’re running low on sleep. You’ve started getting pings, haven’t you?”

Jeongin sheepishly nods his head and mumbles an affirmation.

Hyunjin rolls his eyes and elbows the young man in the side. “I thought I told you to take a nap, dude?”

“I did!” Jeongin whines. “It was, like, a half-hour, though.”

Both Hyunjin and Minho roll their eyes at Jeongin. “Get out of here,” Minho scoffs, walking towards the server room. “Go to bed. I don’t wanna see you back in the server room until tomorrow morning.”

Jeongin opens his mouth to protest, but Hyunjin drags him away, up the stairs towards their bedroom. A ping comes from his implant, a transparent box popping up in the lower right-hand corner of his vision. The soft voice of the AI reverberates against his skull, allowing him to hear it as if it were a real voice whispering into his ear. It reads off the notification from his display.

“Movement away from workplace detected. Reminder: grocery shopping later, have Hyunjin drive. Would you like me to pull up your list?”

“No.” A low grumble comes up from Jeongin’s throat as he taps his temple twice to dismiss the notification. “Hyunjin,” he sighs, “we’ve gotta go grocery shopping.”

“You’re too tired,” Hyunjin shakes his finger without turning to look at Jeongin. “The grocery store will still be there tomorrow.”

“I’m out of my energy drinks, though,” the younger man protests.

Hyunjin smiles, opening the door to their bedroom and whispers. “I’ll be sure to get some for you. Go cuddle up with Felix and get some sleep.”

“Hyunjin, I—” Jeongin is cut off as the older man grabs his wrist, pulling him into his chest. They share a brief kiss before Hyunjin guides him into the bedroom.

“Shh, Lixie is sleeping.”

There’s a shuffling that comes from the bedsheets, and a sleepy voice grumbles. “Not anymore.”

“Aw, mornin’, babe,” Hyunjin says with a smile. “Sorry to wake you. Minho’s probably gonna come ask for you in a bit, anyways, though.”

Felix rolls over, sitting upright as he runs his hands through his brassy blond hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Jeongin sighs as he makes his way over to the bed, bringing an arm up to the blond and wrapping him in a lazy hug as he pulls them down to the bed.

The blond lets out a soft laugh. “Don’t worry about it, man,” he turns his head to face the bluenette and offers him a quick peck on the lips. “I couldn’t sleep much, anyways. Finding out about that myIdol rumour yesterday had my brain going kind of wild.”

“You heard about it too, huh?” Hyunjin says, colliding down onto the bed opposite of Felix. “Someone at Seoul Scoop told me about it this morning. It lets fans connect with their idols, like they’re actually directly messaging them.”

“That’s weird,” the bluenette sleepily grumbles into Felix’s shoulder.

“I think so, too.” Felix says with a frown as he nuzzles his head against Jeongin’s forehead, staring up into the ceiling.

Hyunjin shrugs with indifference. “I dunno, I think it’s pretty interesting.”

Jeongin lifts his head and stares down Hyunjin with a smirk. “You just want to pretend like Changbin cares about you.”

The older blond frowns as he flips off Jeongin. “Like you wouldn’t want Jisung to send you a ‘Have a wonderful day, bestie!’ message?”

The youngest member flops back down onto the bed. “Okay, that’s fair. It’s still weird, though. Seems so artificial and fake, I guess.”

“Well,” Hyunjin sits up, offering a hand out to Felix, “I’ll have more information on it tomorrow, probably. Why don’t you let yourself sleep for a while?” Felix takes the hand offered to him, and both men stand up. “Lixie and I will go out and get some groceries and get you those nasty energy drinks you like so much.”

Jeongin grumbles as he wiggles his way up to the pillows, half-asleep and irritated from the loss of warmth from Felix. “Just not the berry ones, okay?”

“I’ll see what we can do,” Hyunjin says with a smirk before he spins on his heel and walks out of the room. “Love you, Innie!”

“Don’t worry,” Felix leans down to kiss Jeongin’s forehead, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t get the kinds you hate. Let yourself actually sleep, too. We’ll make it all work out, okay?”

Jeongin mutters some sort of incoherent affirmation as he lets his heavy eyelids flutter shut. Seungmin would be able to fix the CSS by himself, he figured, trying not to worry too much about how broken small parts of the site were. He heard Felix say something else as he quickly faded off into sleep, but it didn’t register fully as he sank into the abyss.

There were a lot of sleepless nights ahead of them, whether FiVE:RACHA felt it coming or not.

#the fiveracha project #the five:racha project #skz fics #black mirror au #horror #technological horror #i'm not tagging the ships because they're not really important #wherevermyway

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aye-write · 4 years ago

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Summary: Research student Isla Reid has been fascinated with the legend of the Kildonian Chessmen - a trio of mythical Pokemon rumoured to have lived centuries ago on the remote region of Kildo - for as long as she can remember. So, when a museum exhibit on the Chessmen is set to open in Kildo’s Hydrogate City, coinciding with her independent research project, she packs herself and her trusty partner Furret onto the long ferry journey bound for this new region.

However, when she arrives in Kildo, thoughts of her research, new friends, and an entire Pokedex’s worth of new Pokemon, are quickly dashed. Kildo is a troubled place, beset by natural disasters and fierce rivalries among its people. Isla suddenly finds herself at the centre of a centuries-old plot to invoke the wrath of the Chessmen, and is set on a race against time to stop them, before it spells destruction for the entire region.

Other Links: Read it on Ao3!

Tags: OC Pokemon journey, OC region, Fakemon region, bisexual main character, found family, ace main character.

If you are not interested in these posts, especially as I know Pokemon journeyfic is fairly niche, please blacklist the tag #Checkmate. Most of the story will be put under a Readmore anyway!

Author’s Note: If you’re interested in more information, exclusive updates, character art, and teasers for this fic, please consider following its sister tumblr @kildo-pokedex!

This was another chonker chapter at 4.5k that I didn’t anticipate being this long at all! The joys of plantsing, eh? I had hoped to reveal the starters this chapter, but that’s being bumped to next update. In the meantime, please enjoy the reveal of Brootser, and the partial reveals of Weldeon, Ampster and Coastrot!

*****

Chapter Three

Despite everything, night rolled over the Whispering Pine Croft.

After hours battling insomnia, Isla stole downstairs not long after the clock in the hallway chimed midnight. Goosepimples erupted on her skin, the air chilling her to the core. Clicking on the floor lamp, she cast her gaze around the living room. A rickety bookshelf took up most of one wall, covered in dust and trinkets. It didn’t take her long to strike gold.

The Etymological Dictionary of Old Kildonian, 1981 Edition.

Sitting at the old coffee table, she spread out her books and copies of the Old Kildonian script until there wasn’t an inch of space left. Then she opened the dictionary and started to read. She read, moving between dictionary and text, until her eyes strained in the dim light of the lamp, and the words on the page turned into incomprehensible squiggles. Just keep going, she told herself, as she marked off another decoded word. Just keep going. Just keep going. Just keep—

“Isla?”

Isla slammed the book shut. The noise seemed to echo forever in the quiet of the living room. The intruder snapped on the main light and Isla blinked foolishly as everything illuminated around her. It was Blair at the door, swaddled in an enormous red dressing gown and a pinched look on his face.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked, pulling his dressing gown tighter. “You’ll catch your death of cold.”

“I’m… I’m not doing anything,” Isla said, trying to collect the papers together, position her body over them, anything to hide them from sight.

“Really? You look like a student trying to panic revise a whole subject the night before an exam,” he chuckled, plopping himself in the seat opposite. “Come on. What’s up?”

Isla sighed. What was the point in lying? “I’m just trying to make some sense of these texts.”

Blair glanced at the clock above the fireplace. “At half two in the morning?”

“I couldn’t sleep. This presentation is doing my head in.” When Blair frowned, she added, “My supervisor asked me to update them with all the “progress” I’ve mad so far. Of course, I haven’t made any yet.”

“So, you’re trying to decode all these old books with…. an out-of-date Kildonian dictionary?”

“I found it in the bookcase. I thought it might help.”

“I’m pretty sure that book is older than me. Please don’t tell me you’re taking it word-by-word.”

“More or less.”

“You’ll be there months trying to sort all that lot.”

“I don’t have any other choice,” Isla’s voice cracked. “Everyone is hounding me. I can’t let this come undone. They’ll pull approval of my project and fail me if I don’t keep jumping through all their hoops.”

“Why is the legend of the Chessmen so important to you?”

Isla hesitated. It was an innocent enough question, but the thought of answering it felt like ripping her chest open and exposing the beating heart underneath. “Well...” she started, cringing at how stupid it all sounded in her head. “When I was little, I was kinda lonely. I didn’t have siblings. Or friends, really,”

Blair made a sympathetic noise.

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t that bothered by it,” Isla lied. “But because I didn’t have many friends, I naturally leant towards books instead. And I loved fiction, like adventure stories and that, but I felt so much more connected to things that were actually real.”

Blair nodded. “Understandable.”

“Anyway, one Christmas, I got this book. I think it was called Myths and Legends of the Pokemon World and it had all the origin stories of all the legendary Pokemon from like… every region in the world. God, I ate up every single story - how Arceus created the world, the theory that all Pokemon came from Mew in some way, how Groudon and Kyogre created the land and sea. I was absolutely hooked. Then, right at the end, there were a couple of small articles devoted to a place called Kildo.”

“Typical,” Blair muttered. “Always playing second fiddle to the big guns.”

“The book explained a little bit about the legend of the Chessmen. I was just… amazed at how these Pokemon brought humans these gifts of technology and arts and whatnot and how advanced the region was for its time. And then when I read what happened next, well… I just wanted to know why. Why did the Chessmen take away what they gave the humans? What happened to them after they became dormant? I was obsessed. When I was younger, I had this stupid dream that I would like… Oh, it sounds so cheesy now, but… like solve the mystery of what happened all those years ago.”

“It’s not cheesy, Isla. Dreams are never cheesy.”

Isla bit the inside of her cheek. “I know that. It’s just… well, this legend has been everything to me for years. I’m not bigheaded enough now to think someone like me could ever solve it. But I’d love to find something. Even if it’s just standing in the same place these Pokemon stood once, all those years ago. But now it feels like it’s slipping away from me. I won’t be able to do anything unless I get these texts translated.”

“They’re well-known texts, right? Haven’t they already been translated?”

“The only translations that exist are locked behind online paywalls,” Isla sighed. “Not exactly within my budget. The originals were family owned. I suppose you can’t blame them for wanting them kept safe.”

“Could the university not pay for you to access them?”

“Not my department. They already think the project isn’t worth the time. They’re usually into social changes, modern day life, that sort of thing. Mythology doesn’t get a look in. Even though I changed my project a bit – focusing more on how the mythology influences modern life, with the Chessmen more of like a case study – the department still don’t want much to do with it.”

“Well, that’s their loss. Your project sounds fascinating just from what I’ve seen of it.”

“This little bit you’ve seen might end up being all it ever amounts to. With Nana Morag in the hospital, my options for translations are limited, and these old texts are all I have to help me piece together where the Chessmen might be.”

Silence unfurled around them. Isla stared down at her lap, her legs shaking and her mouth dry. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever talked so much about herself and she found that she couldn’t quite bring herself to look Blair in the eye.

“I think I might know someone.”

Isla pricked her head up. “Really?” she said, hope throbbing in her chest.

“I have a friend who lives in Inverbrook. It’s not a huge city, but they do have a subsect of Tideburgh University there. He’s doing a Masters in Language and mentioned being involved with an elective on Old Kildonian. I can contact him for you. He might be able to help.”

Something surged through Isla like she’d just taken a shot of adrenaline. “Oh, Blair, thank you! That’s amazing!”

“No guarantees, of course!” he said, spreading his hands hastily. “He might not know enough of it to be a proper help. But he may be able to put you in touch with some other folks who can help, if that makes sense.”

“It does. A lot of sense. Thank you again.” Isla paused. “Where is Inverbrook?”

“Pretty much directly south of here. About forty odd miles or so. Following routes 29 through 26 pretty much leads you right there. Public transport is crap, though, so you’re better walking most of it. Shouldn’t take much more than a couple of days if you’re…”

He paused. Isla knew what he wanted to say. If you’re fit. Women like her weren’t supposed to be fit. And even though the thought of days of walking filled her with equal parts apprehension and dread, she forced a look of determination onto her face.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I can handle it.”

Isla shared the news that she would be leaving in the morning as they sat down at the kitchen table. Kenneth and Skye stayed quiet, barely reacting to the news, but Rhona’s face crumpled.

“Oh, chick, are you sure?”

“I think it’s probably for the best,” Isla said. “I don’t want to be a burden, especially with you guys having your hands full with the croft and Nana Morag being ill. Having a guest is too much on top of everything. I really do appreciate everything you’ve all done, but I think it’s best that I head towards Inverbrook and start my research properly.”

A strange expression passed over Rhona’s face, one that Isla couldn’t make sense of. For several terrifying moments, she thought she’d offended her.

“You wouldn’t be a burden on us, Isla,” Rhona eventually said, her eyes brimming. “We’d happily have you here for as long as you want. It’s been lovely having you.”

Isla felt something in her heart buckle.

“We do understand that your studies have to come first. But… you said you wanted to go to Inverbrook?”

“Yes. Blair is going to put me in touch with a friend of his there that might be able to help me with some translations.”

“It might not be as easy as you think, chick. I’ve just been watching the local news. There was flooding down south. The river that goes through Route 27, which connects Port Glen to Inverbrook, burst its banks. The whole route is submerged. No-one can go through. It’s completely impassable.”

You wouldn’t have said the entire of Port Glen had only just recently been battered by a storm, Isla thought, as she set off down towards the harbour after a filling breakfast. The morning sky pinkened gently, like a mother’s embrace, and golden threads of sun drifted through soft, watercolour clouds. A cool wind kept the worst of the heat at bay as she walked. All in all, it was a fairly pleasant experience. Well, as pleasant an experience as walking would ever be.

It was Rhona that had suggested trying the ferry. She couldn’t be sure what passenger routes they ran from Port Glen, or if they only did international and goods shipments, but it was a better option than waiting the potential weeks for the Inverbrook route to be cleared or taking the (extremely) long way around the whole region.

Breathing heavily and sweating despite the brisk ocean breeze, Isla stopped to catch her breath as she arrived at the harbour. She cast her gaze around hopefully. It was quiet. Too quiet. Not a good sign in the least. Aside from the occasional sailor pacing the docks, and the sharp, cutting cry of seabirds, the place was still and silent.

The thought of asking someone to help sent panic crashing through her like waves in a storm, but there was no other choice. The best option rested with a nearby sailor, busily looping ropes and picking apart complicated knots. A Pokemon stood at his side. Squat, muscular, with short brown fur, flecked with white, and cut into a stout triangle pattern, it was another one that Isla didn’t recognise. Every now and again, the sailor tossed it a particularly difficult-looking knot of rope, which the Pokemon expertly shredded with sharp, curved claws.

“Brootser, the Pelting Pokemon. The evolved form of Brogue. With incredibly sharp claws and powerful jaws, Brootser are highly aggressive and territorial. Even against much stronger foes, it won’t back down easily,” her Pokedex chirruped.

Isla’s hand tightened around Soba’s Pokeball as she read more details. A Fighting type. A second evolution. Being a Furret, Soba wouldn’t stand much chance in a fair fight, much less an unfair one. While she did generally feel more comfortable approaching a fellow Pokemon owner, she probably could have stood to pick one with a less terrifying partner.

All the same, she approached the sailor, keeping herself primed like a coiled spring. “Excuse me? I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

The sailor had a strong, lined face, but he didn’t seem anywhere near as intimidating when he relaxed into a smile. “Sure,” he boomed. “What can I do for you?”

“Are there going to be any sailings from this port in the next few days? Anywhere that lands near Inverbrook?”

The Brootser, distracted from its work with the knots, pressed its wet nose against Isla’s hand. Isla let out an involuntary squeak.

“Brootser, stop that!” the sailor said firmly. “Sorry, miss. He’s obsessed with leather. Have you got leather in your handbag or anything? Your shoes? I swear, he can sniff it out within a mile. I have to keep him distracted at work otherwise he’d never leave people alone. Here, Brootser, go and do this for me.”

The sailor tossed a section of rope a few feet down the docks. The Brootser growled, a deep throaty rumble, before dropping to all fours and pursuing. Within moments, the rope was ripped to little more than fibres.

Isla searched for something to say. She eventually settled on, “He’s cute.”

“He’s a menace is what he is,” the sailor said, wiping his brow. “Anyway, you were asking about the ferries? Unfortunately, the passenger ferry was badly damaged in that storm two nights ago and won’t be running any routes for a while.”

“How long is a while?” Isla asked nervously.

“We’re waiting for some metal workers to come down from Hydrogate. They’re delayed because their Weldeon team were exhausted after a big job in the ironworks. Currently we’re looking at about a week.”

“A week?”

“I’m afraid so. If you go to reception and leave your details, they’ll be able to contact you as soon as we know when the sailings will be going ahead.”

“Aren’t there any other options?”

The sailor considered. “Not here. But if you’re set on sailing and you could get to Dewbrae Town, I think they’re still running sailings.”

“Where’s Dewbrae Town? Is it close?”

“It’s up past Aberdrip City, which is an hour’s drive north of here. Then you have to pass through Aberdrip Forest and that brings you out just at Dewbrae. Maybe a couple of days walking if you keep a steady pace,” he paused, and Isla felt his eyes rake her body. “Maybe a couple more. But, if you’re in a hurry, it’s better than waiting around here. Everything’s very up in the air at the moment.”

Isla thanked the sailor, trying to ignore the heavy feeling that came over her. Why was this so difficult? She’d encountered disaster at every turn so far and, in her darkest moments, she couldn’t deny wondering if it was even worth it to keep going. Nana Morag ill, no passage to Inverbrook through Route 27, no ferry from the Port Glen docks, now she had to go all the way to Dewbrae – wherever that was – on nothing more than a possibility?

But what could she do? What other options did she have?

Rhona would know what to do, Isla decided. She had a way of sorting things out, an uncanny level-headedness her own mother didn’t have. That’s what she’d do. She’d head back to the croft and take stock of the situation. She started walking, thoughts whirling through her head like the flapping of birds’ wings. Maybe there was another way to Inverbrook. They knew the region better than she ever would. Maybe they could—

“WIIIIING!”

Isla gasped and swore as her foot trod on something soft. With a gust of cold air, the offending thing burst upwards and pain erupted at the top of her head. Sharp, pointed talons dug into her scalp and she yelped in pain.

“Gull! Gull!” her assailant screeched; each squawk accompanied by a swift peck to the head.

Isla’s hands closed around her attacker’s soft wriggling body. With all her might, she tore it from her head and tossed it as far as she could manage. But the Pokemon swooped back into the air, seemingly unharmed, fixing Isla with a glare that sent a tremble down her spine.

“Gull! Wingull!” it shrieked.

Recognition dropped into Isla’s belly like a stone. It was a Kildonian Wingull. The same Kildonian Wingull that had attacked Rhona the day Isla got off the ferry. At least, it certainly looked like the same one – she could hardly call herself an expert on them – but it was roughly the same size and had the same high-pitched squawk. And didn’t the Pokedex say that Kildonian Wingull only attacked people who had food? Isla didn’t have a single crumb on her. So what other motive could it possibly have for attacking her?

Isla reached for the Pokeball at her waist, panicked fingers scrabbling for the catch. But the Wingull screeched again, diving into a tackle. The impact came low in her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs and leaving her doubled over. The second blow sent her off-balance and stumbling, eventually crashing to the ground where the pain came in sharp spikes. With a fury of feathers, the Pokemon ripped Isla’s bag away from her.

“Hey!” She wheezed. “There’s nothing in there for you!”

Her protests were rewarded with a face full of frigid water.

By the time Isla had sluiced the water from her face, the Wingull had unhooked the bag’s clasp and was digging around in her things. Hairbrush and deodorant were both ignored, the coin purse in the shape of a Quagsire got an inquisitive gnaw but ultimately left in favour of a pen, which lasted a whole thirty seconds until it splintered and was promptly spat back out.

Every inhale felt like she was being stabbed underneath the ribs, but she still forced herself to move. “Leave my things alone! There’s no food in there!”

Wingull had wriggled itself right into the bottom of the bag and had pulled out an old emergency kit that Isla had nearly forgotten about. Most of the items had already been used or dumped over the years she’d had it, leaving only a couple of travel sized Potions, a Repel Kit, and a Poke Doll, wrapped up in a worn-out bag. The Wingull squawked indignantly and decapitated the doll in one fell swoop. Then it turned back on the travel bag, scraping around and tearing at it with its beak.

Something dropped out. Isla’s heart plummeted to somewhere near her feet.

It was a Pokeball. An old Pokeball scratched and grimy with age. A Pokeball that Isla had all but forgotten about ever since she made the decision to train just Soba all those years ago. A Pokeball that was now right in the Kildonian Wingull’s line of sight.

She saw it happening before it actually did. The hungry Wingull viewed the Pokeball as nothing more than a shiny, tasty snack. It darted forward, opened its beak wide, and engulfed the old capsule. Isla prayed that the ten year old ball would turn out to be too old to work anymore, and the worst thing to happen would be the Wingull hacking it back up again. But the Pokeball made a shrill shiiing noise as it made contact with Wingull’s beak, and the Pokemon disappeared in a flash of blue light.

The Pokeball shook. Once. Twice. Three times. Then it was still.

And Isla had caught a Kildonian Wingull.

Isla told the story of her accidental Wingull capture to an appreciative audience when she got back from the docks. And then again over sandwiches at lunchtime. While Soba curled up in the corner next to the radiator, oblivious to this new teammate, Isla released Wingull for the nerve-wracking job of introductions and feeding time. Rhona’s eyebrows rose so high that they practically disappeared into her hairline, but she didn’t protest.

“I can’t believe it’s the same one,” Rhona said, eyeing her half-eaten sandwich she was planning on saving for later. “Most try their luck once and then move on.”

“I think it’s young,” Blair said, lifting its wing to get a better look. “Perhaps separated from its mum too early. Maybe it doesn’t know any better.”

“I didn’t mean to catch it,” Isla sighed. “I’d forgotten all about that old Pokeball. We were always told to carry an extra one or two, even if we never intended to catch Pokemon, like for emergencies and that.”

“It must have been starving if it thought a Pokeball was food. Or maybe just exceptionally stupid.”

“Jury’s out on that one,” Isla said, as the Wingull pecked at a Tauros shaped pepper shaker.

“Kildonian Wingull are incredibly food oriented,” Blair lifted his plate to avoid the Pokemon’s frantically flapping wings. “Most of the bird Pokemon around here are.”

“Why is that?”

“Competition. Because there’s so many, they all compete for the same natural resources. That’s part of why people think Wingull adapted for Kildo the way they did. They couldn’t compete for most of the natural food, so they evolved to take food from humans instead. Problem is, they end up thinking all food is fair game. Hey, watch it! No! That’s mine!”

Isla suppressed a chuckle as Wingull lunged for the crusts on Blair’s sandwiches. In the kerfuffle of squawking and feathers, Isla looked over at Skye, who hadn’t said a word through the entire of lunch. Her face was screwed up.

“Skye? Are you alright?” Isla asked.

Skye made an odd strangling noise, pushed herself back from the chair, and ran for the stairs, each one thudding under her feet. A moment later, a door slammed.

“Did I say something wrong?” Isla said, horrified.

“No, not at all,” Rhona said, rescuing a glass of juice that had been upended when Skye left the table. “She’s just a bit upset. We were supposed to be going up to meet Professor Spruce tomorrow to get her trainer’s license and first Pokemon. But because Nana Morag is in hospital, I have to be here in case something comes up on short notice, and I just can’t spare the time to take Skye up to Aberdrip City. She’ll only be delayed for a few days, but the poor lass was so looking forward to it. Especially when she’s had to wait so much longer than everyone else.”

“Why’s that?”

It was only after she asked the question that she considered it might have been rude. Or none of her business. Too late to save herself now, though. Rhona’s face tightened, her mouth puckering like she was sucking on a sour lemon.

“Sorry,” Isla looked down at the table. “I shouldn’t be nosy.”

The kitchen fell quiet. Rhona let out a deep, juddering exhale and sat back down, folding her hands into her lap, the kitchen suddenly feeling about ten degrees colder. Isla took a sip of water, her mouth and throat turning to chalk.

“Skye had childhood cancer.” The words didn’t even get a chance to settle before they were tumbling out again, like Rhona was trying to get them all out at once. Like they couldn’t hurt her as much that way. “She spent most of her childhood in hospital with leukaemia.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Once again Isla found herself cursing both her mother and herself for not bothering to find any of this information out beforehand.

Rhona shook her head. “It’s alright, chick. We don’t talk about it much. Besides, she’s been in remission for a year now. But she’s missed out on so much school and she gets tired so easily.”

There was nothing Isla could say that would be enough. She had to settle for, “I’m sorry to hear that…” and hope Rhona could somehow understand just how much she meant it.

“There was a time when she was being treated that she became very low and very depressed. It was frightening. I’ve never been so worried in all my life. We were scared she was just… giving up. Then, one day, they had some Pokemon trainers visit the hospital. A lot of children there would never be able to go out training. Some wouldn’t even… you know, live to see their next birthday.”

Rhona’s voice wavered. Blair put his hand over hers and squeezed. “Easy, Mum. Don’t go upsetting yourself now.”

“One of the trainers was assigned to Skye,” Rhona continued. “But she was so quiet and so withdrawn that we didn’t think the trainer could get through to her. The trainer had this Pokemon with her – Ampster, I think it was – and it was like a light turned on behind Skye’s eyes when she saw it. I saw glimpses of my daughter again. This trainer stayed with her for hours. Just talking. She’s wanted to be a Pokemon trainer ever since. And I hate that so many things keep getting in her way.”

Rhona sunk her head into her hands. Her shoulders quivered.

Isla felt terrible. No wonder Skye had been quiet during the whole of lunch. How stupid had she been? Skye was being kept from her dream of being a Pokemon trainer and she’d waltzed into their kitchen showing off a Pokemon she hadn’t even meant to catch? It made Isla’s toes curl just thinking about it.

“Could Skye not make the journey on her own?” she asked.

“No,” Rhona lifted her head again, looking pale even at the thought. “She’s not fit enough. We were going to rent a car and drive her, but…”

“Could I take her?”

The offer slipped past Isla’s lips before she knew what she was doing. Rhona looked at her in mild shock, her mouth slowly gaping open.

“I mean, I’ll be passing through Aberdrip anyway!” Isla continued. “One of the sailors said I could get the ferry from Dewbrae Town which is just past Aberdrip, right?. I could take her along with me.”

“Gosh, that’s very kind of you, chick. And I’m sure Skye would love it,” Rhona said, nervously glancing at the stairs. “But I’m not comfortable with her making the trip back on her own. Or even just the amount of walking she’d have to do.”

“I could go with them,” Blair said.

Rhona looked at her son like she’d only just remembered he existed. “What’s that, honey?”

“I could go with them,” he repeated. “We could put Skye on Coastrot. That’s my partner Pokemon,” he added for Isla’s benefit. “He’s strong enough to carry her and we can keep her nicely bundled up. Then once Isla heads off to Dewbrae, I can take Skye back.”

“I don’t know,” Rhona said. “We need you here too.”

“Mum, it’s a day. Maybe two, tops, if we let Skye rest overnight. You and Dad can manage that long, right? You could ask a couple of the lads from the market to pitch in if you really need to. I’m sure they’d work for a hot pie and some cash in hand. And you don’t need to worry about us. We won’t do anything silly. We’ll just get Skye her Pokemon, check in for the night, see Isla off to Dewbrae the next morning and head back ourselves. Easy-peasy!”

Rhona still didn’t look convinced. “It’s such a long way, though. She’s not been away overnight in such a long time.”

“It’s a few hours of travelling, Mum. You said it yourself, Skye’s already missed out on so much. It might not feel like much for us, but for Skye, it’s her whole life. One delay after the other. And with everything the way it is right now, what if there’s just more delays? More reasons not to take her? You have to let her.”

Rhona went very quiet, her face pale.

“I’ll look after her, Mum,” Blair said. “She needs this.”

“I know you will. And I know she does,” Rhona heaved a sigh. “She’s not my little baby anymore. She’s growing up.”

“I’d like to go.”

Everyone jumped at the voice that came in from the doorway. Rhona wiped her eyes. “Oh, Skye, honey, sorry. I didn’t hear you come down. Are you okay?”

“I think I can do it,” Skye ignored her mother’s question. Her voice was louder this time, but still hesitant, like she was testing out its limits. “I want to go get my Pokemon and I’d like Blair and Coastrot to take me. And Isla,” she added, and Isla felt a smile curve onto her face. “If that’s okay with you?”

Silence widened like a chasm between mother and daughter and for one horrible moment, Isla half-expected Rhona to turn away, to start shouting, to deny her flat out. But then tears spilled out of Rhona’s eyes and her whole face softened.

“Yes, honey,” Rhona said, her voice little more than a whisper. “Yes, that’ll be okay with me.”

As they hugged, Isla felt a stray tear prick at the corner of her eye. The emotion surprised her. Yes, it was touching to see a mother and daughter hug and reconcile, but something told her it went deeper. As she looked out at the dying sky, strewn with deepening orange and slicks of black, something unsettled itself in her heart.

Tomorrow she would be leaving Port Glen. Tomorrow she would leave behind a family unit where she felt accepted. Tomorrow she would start her journey to Inverbrook.

She didn’t know which one felt scarier.

#checkmate #pokemon oc fiction #pokemon fanfiction #fakemon #fakemon fanfiction #long post #fanfiction

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jasperwhitcock · 4 years ago

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equinox | chapter 06 –– “open book”

here is chapter chapter six of my bella as a vampire and edward as a human fanfic inspired by an au that @bellasredchevy posted. you can read the new chapter on AO3 or here. i post updates on AO3 or on tumblr using the #equinoxjw tag. but sometimes it doesn’t work. so. um.

the last time i wrote for this, it was BEFORE midnight sun came out. and now, midnight sun has been out for two weeks (oops...now FOUR weeks), i’ve finished it, i am miserable as a result, and finally, SHOOK. here’s why: in the last chapter, i mentioned esme’s aversion to having her floors ruined by rain. in midnight sun, edward mentioned that multiple times. MY MIND.

everyone reading this is thinking like, yeah, sure “your mind” OR you’re dumb and should not be finding any humor that your lizard brain came up with the same basic idea as smeyer, known racist. maybe esme was just written with hardly any personality so it wasn’t that difficult to end up concocting the same idea. and… okay, you’re right. but in those moments, let me tell you, i was really feeling something. smeyer, you reading this?

to catch up since i’ve been busy, i reread my other chapters. and i really need to go back and edit them. so thank u for being here & bearing with me. hehe

also… the beige… that’s for y’all.

just a lil baby warning: there are conversations revolving around religion in this chapter. i wanted to mention that as a warning for the sake of anyone who has had negative experiences with church/religion (like me!) whom this topic makes uncomfortable. the local doctor and his children are VAMPIRES. you have been warned.

It was entirely unrealistic –– the possibility of running out of time –– but still, I expedited through the forest, the greenery blurring by me in long unfocused streaks. Although if I paid attention, I knew I’d still be able to see every microscopic detail. The fluffy moss growing along the trunks of the ground, the iridescent droplets of rain dotting the ferny leaves, the patterns in the wood of the trees. But I cared little to as I barreled forward, hurtling over uprooted trees and bounding over large pools of rainwater nestled in the muddy forest floor.

I lost a shoe leaping over the last fifty yard stretch of river, so I kicked the other off carelessly in midair. The shoe fell into the water with a powerful splash from the height. Alice could bite me later. I was in too great of a hurry to deal with her chastisement now. If she really cared for this pair of shoes, she could dive for it. Alice! The thought of my sister made me realize a reason I could actually be late. I needed a change of clothes.

As I fell back to the earth, reaching a hand forward to grasp onto a convenient branch, I focused, envisioning my arrival at the house, the flight of the stairs, and the knock on the door of her room. I pictured asking her my request, and though I had no intention of actually following through with these steps, I hoped the thought was enough for Alice to see what I wanted. It should be, because if it wasn’t, I’d have to go into the house anyways, but I really didn’t want to waste time.

I swung lightly onto the bough of another spruce, and nimbly travelled this way from branch to branch, juggling the journal all the while by throwing it into the air between trees and catching it again. I could run fast and delicately enough to avoid muddying my feet, but with how unfocused I was in my hurry, I didn’t want to risk needing to stop to wash off.

If they hadn’t been concerned already, now would really be the time that my family genuinely considered my descent into insanity, seeing me wildly and maniacally swing through the trees towards the house like Tarzan after having only melodramatically left hours prior.

I knew it wouldn’t last, but I felt somehow liberated by the realizations that I’d come to in my wintry jungle. After hours of considering the right way forward navigating my now complicated future, I’d decided to face it head on. To stubbornly confront the problem. I was tired of feeling unlike myself and feeling distanced from my family, though my new resolution might encourage the rift I’d only just mended with Rosalie. Even with my grievances, I still enjoyed this life, the strength I’d found in it. The sense of rightness and belonging that contrasted how I’d felt so weak and out of step as a human. I wanted to bask in that again. I wanted to take action.

I decided the best way to reattain that freedom was rather than leave the boy alone, I’d challenge the vision. Seek him out this morning. Return the journal to him. Sit beside him. And in my ability to do so, I’d then prove his irrelevance to me, his powerlessness over my self control.

And although it was still a ridiculous thought to entertain, if I did find in me some concern or care for him, then that’d be even better. It’d certainly be strange, but it’d also strengthen my resolve to leave him be with his own life rather than make any choices he couldn’t even be knowledgeable enough about to consent to. Then, once I’d done so, I could truly leave him alone for good. I’d toyed with completely ignoring him from the beginning as I said I would, but then I decided that outcome wouldn’t develop from inaction. I was far too headstrong to leave this alone without trying to face it.

I will admit that a part of me was curious about Alice’s vision, curious about a friend or even a partner in this life… But the thought of Edward as that partner made me recoil. He was too irritating –– not the ideal candidate to spend an eternity with.

He was smart, though. And kind too, I noted, thinking of the way he’d cheered up the girl in the hospital… But definitely irritating. I’d have endless time to decode what had made him so relentless and smart-mouthed, but once I’d made the discovery, what then?

I had spent hours turning the little brown journal in my hands over and over, studying the worn leather, the folds and creases, tempted to open it and uncover his secrets. During an hour where I’d been resolved to go forth with pretending he didn’t exist, I’d even considered sneaking back to his house and finding my way in to leave the journal by his side so that I wouldn’t have to give it back to him myself in person. But that –– and also privily reading it without his permission –– seemed indefensibly invasive.

I didn’t mind being a vampire if that’s what I was. But that didn’t mean I had any desire to fulfill some of the creepier of the tropes.

Once I reached the tree closest to the garage, I tightroped onto a thin branch. Then, cautious as to not break it, I gently pushed down and sprung off, diving like a swimmer seventy feet down, the journal clasped between my outstretched hands. The distance was very short, and I landed softly, focusing greatly on doing so in a cautiously tactile way that wouldn’t cannonball me through the building and barreling into the ground. I rolled like a bowling ball to a stop on the vegetative, vine-covered roof in a cluster of silky honeysuckle and tickling lavender wisteria.

Even now all these years later, I felt kind of giddy at the impossible physics of my body’s capability for control, so I couldn’t help but laugh a little. I even laughed a little more thinking again of how my family might see my behavior –– me laughing here in the flowers –– as lunacy in how drastically it differed from the darkness of the personal rain cloud I’d been carrying over me.

From the house, I heard a deep chuckle and the sound of a scoff, confirming that I did have an audience. It must be Emmett mocking the impressiveness of my nosedive. I smiled, feeling very much like myself again.

I hopped off the roof to the ground and entered the garage. Sure enough, Alice had laid out a small pile of clothes for me for the upcoming school day. I stripped, unceremoniously dropping the garments I was wearing into a pile on the floor and reached for the clothing. Then, I groaned.

“Alice!” I hissed her name like an expletive. I thought we’d moved past my sister’s insistence on using me as her personal doll, but it seemed this was her attempt for a revival. Maybe she was determined to punish me for the way I’d destroyed my shoes. Rather than a sensible sweater and jeans, Alice had taken advantage of my hurried need and elected to pick out a cropped turtleneck sweater and a mini skirt, both black. The sweater wasn’t awful in that the crop wouldn’t be exposing with the high waist of the skirt, but the bodycon fit of the skirt, the crocodile print of the polyurethane, and the ludicrous split up the side… Alice was deranged. This had to have come from her own closet.

She had the good sense to include sheer black tights to hide some of the disconcerting flawlessness and freaky whiteness of my skin –– not that that would matter much in how off-putting and contrasting I’d look in all black anyways –– but I’d have preferred converse over the matching black boots. At least the heel of the boot was more reasonable than I’d expect from her. Not more reasonable than converse, though.

I imagined showing up to Edward’s house. Hey, Edward! Here I am to drive you to school, pale and ridiculous. Also, I’m a vampire. Here’s your journal.

I considered the short run to my room in the house, but again, I was already running late…

I tugged the clothes on and hopped into the pearly white car, throwing the journal into the passenger seat. As I reversed out of the garage, I felt thankful for the engine upgrades Rosalie worked on that allowed for the instant rapidity of the acceleration.

I spun sharply, letting the car spin out with an obnoxiously loud screech until I was facing the long drive away from the house. In the rearview mirror, I watched as Rosalie entered the garage, her golden eyes shocked and her mouth open as I sped away.

My reckless driving only warranted a few irritated honks on my way to Edward’s house through the morning traffic –– one dark green Honda specifically gave me a long piece of their mind when I cut them off –– before I was whipping around the corner onto his street.

Just as I pulled in front of the lonely house, I watched as Edward casually jogged down the steps of his porch, his sleek backpack hanging carelessly off one shoulder and an apple in his hand.

His tangle of bronze hair was like a low burning flame against the muted monochromatism of the grey house and the grey sky and the grey pavement. Today, he wore a light tan turtleneck that clung tightly to his chest, slim beige trousers, and a long black coat that ended above the knees. His fancy belt, his long socks, and his suede boots were all black too. I didn’t particularly consider him to be someone who cared much about what others thought about him, but he seemed pretty meticulously dressed. I wondered if he dressed to impress others or dressed for himself. Neither decision particularly mattered, but it’d been so long since I thought about something so human –– the thought process of selecting what to wear and considering how you wanted to present yourself.

The clothes I wore ceased to matter long ago. I never particularly had an interest in fashion, so it was easy to allow Alice to select my wardrobe. And for the most part, she got it right. Only when I found her selections to be impractical, such as today, did I really care. But it was a rarity that she tried to push me too far out of my comfort zone anymore. She’d given up on me, or maybe she had just become more clever about finding the right opportunities to dress me in something absurd… I liked things that I could easily move around in.

Alice would approve of his outfit, I thought. Maybe if he liked fashion, they really would get along. But that didn’t matter because I had no intentions of involving Alice and her freaky little visions in my experiment.

Seeing me parked there, he froze for a moment, before his lips curved into a huge smile. Edward laughed, throwing his apple up in the air and catching it again. He half-jogged forward to meet me. I took a deep, clean breath full of the leather scents of the car’s interior and rolled down the window, leaning forward towards him.

Edward bent over so that his head could duck down to see my face through the window, and he shook his head again, chuckling.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Hello, Edward,” I smiled pleasantly, trying to play nice.

He eyed me suspiciously, but the glint in his pretty green eyes was teasing, the grin that lit them up never fading.

“I’ve come to bring you this, fresh from the scene of the crime––“ I grasped hold of the leather bound book in my hand, raising it up to wave it before setting it back down, “––and to offer you a ride to school. I’m sure it’d be a humbling experience for you to walk, but I felt bad about your pretty car being flattened like a pancake.”

“You’re not irritated with me?” Edward asked, slightly cocking his head to the side.

“Are you irritated with me?” I countered.

“Never,” he beamed.

“Well, then we can call a truce,” I half smiled. “You’re not curious as to why I’m forcing you to carpool, making your getting to school my business?”

“The wasting of finite resources is everyone’s business. But of course, I am curious.”

“As usual,” I mumbled under my breath. Hesitantly, I breathed in. It was like pulling the chord on a hot-air ballon with the way his scent ripped my throat into flames. I was grateful for the distraction of someone grumbling to themself as they turned onto the street, because instead of spiraling, I was able to instead laugh as I realized who I had cut off a few traffic lights ago. I looked in the rearview mirror and sure enough recognized Sara, the sandy blonde, driving the ugly green Honda.

“Hmm… Well, I wouldn’t want to upset your girlfriend––” I bit my lip momentarily to keep myself from laughing, “––so I wouldn’t be offended if you said no.”

“Who?” Edward asked, but his smile had faded as his eyes watched my lips intently.

He looked back into my eyes after a second, blinking as he realized I was staring at him staring at me, then up at the car awkwardly pulling in behind me.

“Oh,” he chuckled as he realized who I meant. “I’ll be just a moment.”

I watched in my side-view mirror as Edward approached Sara on the drivers’ side.

“Hey, Sara,” he said as she cranked her window down.

“Hey, Ed,” she grumbled, kind of irritated. I should have felt guilty for disrupting her plan, but her irritation with Edward instead provoked my nerves. Also, the fact that she called him Ed bothered me too. “I guess you made it out alive. I’d have been here sooner, but Cullen cut me off. I got suck at a red light.”

“Did she?” Edward laughed. “Well, I’m really sorry, Sara. This is so nice of you, but Bella offered to drive me to school today. I’d cancel now that you’re here, but after she saved my life, I’d feel terrible doing so. Is it alright if I see you at school?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she snapped, trying to seem unbothered despite the tightness of her jaw and the edge in her voice.

“I’m sorry again, Sara. I really appreciate that you came here,” Edward smiled a dazzling smile.

“No big deal. I’ll see you at school,” she lifted the corners of her lips once before turning away, her mouth in a tight line.

He sighed watching as she drove past me and away before a crooked smile reappeared on his face as he walked back to my car. I didn’t have time to wonder if he would have preferred to ride with her. It didn’t seem likely.

“…Ed?” I asked as he crossed back to the passenger side.

“You heard that?” Edward chuckled. He slid his backpack off his back, opened the door, and dipped his tall frame into the car. He picked up the journal before settling into the passenger’s side, adjusting the seat to make room for his legs and backpack. “I’m not particularly fond of that nickname. Or any, for that matter. My mother called me Teddy sometimes. I prefer Edward.”

“I do too,” I agreed, breathing in the potency of his fragrance. I clutched the steering wheel tightly and swallowed dryly.

“So,” he began once he was comfortable. “Are you feeling more open today?”

“No,” I answered as I began to drive towards the school.

Edward sighed, but he shook his head, amused. Clearly, he’d decided to play nice too. “Do you ever get tired of ambiguity, Bella?”

Yes.

“No,” I teased, rolling my eyes. “I enjoy being mysterious far too much.”

“Mysterious enough to keep me up at night,” he egged on.

“I’m sure you slept just fine.”

“How’d you sleep?” Edward asked. I looked over at him, ignoring the tingling of my tongue in anticipation of the taste of his sweet blood. I should have thought of a response, but I was too busy fighting off my instincts to think of a lie. His pretty eyes narrowed in thought as he analyzed my face and the dark circles beneath my golden eyes.

Suddenly, I froze, my muscles locking down as he reached forward, his hand gently touching my hair. I didn’t dare breathe as the heat of his skin enveloped me in warmth. His hand lingered for a moment before it pulled back, holding up a broken piece of fern.

“You had a leaf in your hair. How’d that get there?” Edward almost whispered, his lips curved into a half-smile.

A strange electricity throbbed through my body, and the sensation was so odd. Like my heartbeat should be thrumming loudly in my ears. Deafening. But my heart was frozen and dead, so I only heard the beat of Edward’s. We sat in silence for a moment as my mind spun in the dizziness.

“Maybe I should have accepted Sara’s offer,” he joked after a moment, laughing, but I wondered what he made of the affliction I was trying to hide on my face. Around him, no matter my attempts at subterfuge, it felt as though my face was an open book in which he could read all my secrets. I refocused my eyes on the road, too distracted by the warmth of his pale face and the prettiness of his green eyes as the forest flew by in the window behind him.

“Maybe,” I agreed, smiling softly, smiling sadly. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe you should jump out of the car and run before I accidentally kill you.

“But,” he mused gently, trying to keep the mood light and playful. “She probably doesn’t have heated seats.”

His effort to comfort the conflict raging within me that he didn’t even understand worked. I snorted.

I continued driving, thinking of ways to bring up the journal.

“You look lovely today, by the way,” he smiled, appraising me. “Which is not to say that you don’t on any other day, but you do look very pretty.”

I felt oddly incomplete as I waited for reactions my body was no longer capable of. Reactions I’d forgotten. There was another strange sensation in my cheeks as if they should be very warm.

My head whipped towards him in surprise, my eyebrows pulling up.

“What?” He immediately asked in shock, his heart beat picking up. My reaction didn’t totally alarm him though, because his lips were still pulled up at the corners. Edward seemed to always be smiling. Or maybe smirking was the better word. “Do you not get compliments often? I find that rather hard to believe.”

“No, it’s not that,” I relaxed my face. “I was just caught off guard. Lovely…That wasn’t particularly something I’d expect a seventeen year old boy to say.”

“Oh,” he relaxed, easily grinning again.

“Are you even seventeen?” I found myself smiling in return.

“Are you?” He countered.

My mood darkened as my lips dropped immediately, but I fixed the smile back onto my face so he couldn’t see how exposed I felt.

“You know, my mom used to say that I was born thirty five years old, and that I get more middle-aged every year.”

“Hmm…” Edward nodded, his eyes narrowed again as he scrutinized me. I wondered if this clarified some assumption he’d made about me.

I turned into the school parking lot. I saw the gleaming cherry redness of Rosalie’s ostentatious car and desperately hoped she was already inside one of the brick buildings.

“So,” he prompted, his tone mysteriously patronizing. “Did you read this?”

I glanced over to see the accusation in his eyes as he held up the journal, but he didn’t seem angry whatsoever. They were still light. Still playful.

“What? No, of course not,” I defended myself. But my voice was unpersuasive, the pitch coming out a little too high to give my words any credibility.

I parked beside Rosalie. The car was luckily empty, so I relaxed my grip on the steering wheel. Ha! As if my sister would have confronted me here, and I’d have driven away, effectively kidnapping Edward… I scoffed at myself. I clenched the hand Edward couldn’t see into a tight fist, concentrating all of my strength in my fight against temptation into the way my fingers dug into my palm.

I turned my face to look at Edward, whose face was condescending, his thick eyebrows pulled up in disbelief.

“I’m serious! Maybe I look guilty because I considered it, but I didn’t actually follow through.”

His face relaxed into a crooked smile. “Okay, I believe you. I’d have forgiven you anyways.”

“Does that mean if I ask you about the contents, you’ll share?” I asked eagerly. I’d read so many books in my life that this new mystery novel easily became just like another book I was dying to read.

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head, chuckling. Edward reached for his bag, winking at me, and opened his door, ducking his head to get out. I swiftly undid my seatbelt and was out beside him probably much too fast, my backpack slung onto my shoulder. For a moment, I wondered if my siblings needed their useless backpacks too since we typically drove this car to school, but I figured Alice must have rescued them from the trunk after seeing my plans for this morning.

He blinked, looking down at where I suddenly appeared.

“Why?” I inhaled through my mouth, grateful for the influx of fresh rainwater and firs that helped dilute Edward’s scent.

His heart thrummed in his chest, and being so close to him, the sound was like thunder surrounding me as I listened, becoming attuned to it. The splash of puddles as tires hightailed through the parking lot, the slam of locker doors as students got their books, and the chatter of kids as they entered the school all seemed like irrelevant ambiance now.

“Because,” Edward breathed. His breath was shaky, but his face remained cool. The sweetness of the smell washed over my face, and I clenched my fist again. “That wouldn’t be fair whatsoever.”

“And why not?” I demanded.

“You expect me to entrust you with all of my secrets when you won’t trust me with just one of yours?”

He wasn’t wrong. But I couldn’t exactly divulge anything about the accident. I was already breaking too many rules. My own rules. My own promises I’d made to my family.

“How about…” I considered, though my thoughts were headed in a dangerous direction. “If you happen to have any theories, you can share one, and I’ll either confirm or deny it.”

“Just one?”

“Yes.”

“How is that worth the very much intimate documentation of my entire mind, Bella? That’s hardly sufficient.”

“Fine, I don’t care about your stinking journal,” I snapped, stubbornly poking my chin in the air a fraction.

He surprised me by actually throwing his head back to laugh.

“Are you done?” I asked.

“You’ve got a bit of a temper, don’t you?” he considered this for a moment, beaming. “Okay, I’ll accept these conditions. But later.”

“Later?” I demanded, feeling a sense of injustice as I froze in place. He continued forward and took a bite of his apple. The juice spilled out sweetly into the air, but the fragrance was unappetizing and certainly not as sweet as Edward’s blood.

“Thank you for the ride, Bella. I’ll see you in biology.” Again, he winked, walking backwards. He saluted me, waving once with the journal in his other hand and then turned around, clearly enjoying having the upper hand as he and temptation disappeared into the crowd of students.

I stood there, my mouth propped open. The sensation of being watched started to creep up on me and sure enough, I turned to find Rosalie ten yards away outside of the building to her first period. Her eyes were dark, cold, and fierce with betrayal. Guiltily, I looked away and headed off towards my first class.

Throughout my morning classes, I tried not to think about my family’s –– or rather, Rosalie’s –– opinions on my decision this morning. At this, I failed miserably. As I imagined explaining how really if I didn’t stay away from the boy, it would prove that I actually could leave him alone and exercise control against Alice’s visions, I started to find my logic extremely flawed and unbelievable. Maybe I was making a mistake. Maybe I was just too pigheaded. I tried not to think about this too.

Instead, I thought again about the secrets of his journal. Wasn’t this essentially the symbol of everything I’d been obsessing over? All of my wonderings and curiosities as for why he was so annoying and his eyes so perceptive could all be unraveled in that little book. I wondered if I’d be disappointed once the mystery was unveiled. Maybe the journal –– and by extension, Edward himself –– was not as interesting as I thought. I may have just been fixating on this because it was something different. But I told myself it’d be better for me to be disappointed. The sooner I could move on with my life.

Throughout the day, a couple of the braver students asked for details about the accident but became disappointed when I didn’t offer up the dramatics they were hoping for. I felt too shameful to discredit Edward’s accounts, so I irresponsibly dismissed the opportunities to ensure the accident yesterday hadn’t exposed anything unusual about me or my family. Eventually, as my monotonous account of the events spread through the tiny school, kids stopped asking.

I was impatient to get to biology, but before then, I’d have to face my siblings at lunch. When the bell rang after fifth period, I walked much too quickly to the cafeteria, dreading arriving but very much eager to get it over with. As I weaseled my way through the hallway –– which wasn’t difficult because even in the familiarity of the school, we were typically provided a wide berth –– I overheard the conversation of two other juniors. I froze in place as my plans shifted for the day. They discussed the difficulty of today’s biology pop exam, and I realized I wouldn’t have the hour of the day the school allotted to speak with Edward, the excuse I could provide my family in my defense. A freshman nearly rammed into me from behind, not expecting my sudden stop. Whoever it was recoiled immediately.

Well, I wasn’t going to miss out on whatever explanation he planned to provide because of some trivial pop exam. I rearranged my lunch plans, appreciating the excuse to postpone another family confrontation. We could battle it out at the long oval table later if necessary.

I entered the cafeteria and was second in the lunch line, only selecting a glass lemonade bottle so that the emptiness in front of me wouldn’t be unnerving for Edward. I figured it’d be more disconcerting to leave a tray of food in front of me untouched. I headed to a round table in the corner that was typically empty. This wouldn’t surprise my family when they entered. Alice would warn them.

I sat waiting as students filed in, either joining the growing line or meeting at their usual tables with their friends. I avoided Rosalie’s eyes when she entered the room, but I could still feel the iciness of her stare. I listened for Edward’s deep and soft voice to indicate his arrival, then when I couldn’t find it, instead listened for Sara’s to see if she may be with him. Sara was a loud, babbling talker, so it was easy to find her voice in the crowd of the hallway. She seemed to have gotten over her irritation from this morning as she animatedly spoke about some research she’d done the night prior into some potential colleges she might apply to.

I found that although I may feel some irrational resentment of her ability to be so close to Edward, I liked Sara. Maybe we would have even been friends if I was a human. And if her proximity to him didn’t bother me. She was prattling on about her dream of becoming a veterinarian, and her goals seemed so sincere that I almost felt guilty finding any enjoyment in having stolen Edward from her this morning.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t have intentions to do so again.

As I suspected, when Sara walked through the double doors, Edward was by her side. He was actively listening to her words –– always so polite to anyone who wasn’t me –– but once inside the lunch room, his eyes immediately flashed to the table in which my siblings were settling into. His thick eyebrows pulled together in confusion –– and maybe even disappointment? –– at the realization he didn’t find me there.

I was impatient as he purchased his lunch. Once he’d left the line, he still hadn’t noticed me sitting here. Maybe he was less perceptive than I gave him credit for. I felt a moment of awkwardness as I thought about having to get up, walk across the cafeteria, and ask him to join me in front of my family. I would still have done so, but I was immensely relieved when Sara noticed me.

“Are you eating lunch with Bella too?” The sandy blonde asked, her tone suddenly indignant. This time, I felt no pleasure in my thievery. Sara was right to want to reserve Edward to her human world, but I was too entranced with the mystery of his journal and the mystery of his mind to care.

Edward looked up, searching. His sage eyes were bright and animated once he found me here at the table. He held his tray in one large hand while combing the other through his untidy bronze hair. The arrogant confidence in his face made me smirk, and I rolled my eyes, lifting my hand to beckon him forward twice with my finger as if I was reluctantly pacifying a child.

“I guess so,” he laughed a little as he sauntered forward towards the table, leaving Sara behind gawking. I braced myself for the onslaught, inhaling one last fresh breath of air. How habitual this was becoming.

“I’m being gifted your presence outside of our biology class twice in one day? What did I do to deserve this?” He teased once he’d arrived, standing behind the seat across from me.

“Nearly die. I guess that’s a fair enough price to pay for my company,” I played along. If only he knew how true that still was. He grinned, his perfect teeth white and shiny. “Oh, don’t look so smug. I’m only here to uncover a mystery.”

“As am I,” he reminded me. I winced.

“Are you going to sit down?” I asked. He still stood behind the seat, tall and lean, a giant like my brothers. Not quite as towering and much slimmer, but still, I felt small in my seat looking up at him.

Edward leaned down to carefully place his tray on the laminate before comfortably settling into his seat as if we’d done this before. I glanced at his tray, curious as to his selection. A bottle of water, a grilled chicken salad, and a bag of dried fruit. I stared at the food for a moment as if this would provide me any clues about his mind.

“So,” he began. I looked up to meet his eyes and though I knew he’d be looking at me, I felt a jolt pulse through me. He caught something about my reaction, and a crooked smile appeared on his face.

“So,” I continued. “You were going to tell me about your journal.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But I believe we agreed on a condition, did we not?”

“We did,” I admitted. “Go ahead.”

“Hmm… I’m not sure I’m actually ready to, Bella,” he pondered, and I felt odd again hearing him say my name.

“Why not?” I demanded, restless. Of course I was interested in the book, but I was also definitely interested in his theories. I couldn’t believe it had only been yesterday that the accident occurred. It felt like a lifetime ago. The same way that first day in biology did.

“I’ve only been given about twenty four hours to come up with any explanations.”

“And have you?”

“Maybe, but I have a feeling you’ll be very firm on only allowing one theory, so I want to hold out for the theory I’m most confident on.”

I frowned, and Edward laughed.

“Don’t worry though. I’ll tell you about my journal anyways. As long as you promise–– no, that’d be letting you off too easily. As long as you swear to me that you won’t forget your end of the deal.”

“I swear,” I promised, smiling at the silliness of his command. I took this moment to breath in his powerful scent, to wrestle with my desire.

“Hmm… I wonder if it’ll upset you,” his forehead crumped in thought. My patience was wearing so thin that the inexorable cloud of lust for his blood had little impact in comparison to the sudden aggravation at his procrastination.

“Oh, Edward!” I groaned, exasperated. “Would you just tell me? What could possibly upset me?”

For whatever reason, Edward burst into laughter at my outburst and couldn’t seem to stop.

I glared at him, and he tried to choke back his humor unsuccessfully. The irritation in my eyes didn’t deter him or instill any sense of fear in him. Briefly, I wondered if he was mentally sound.

“Okay, well, you can just go eat lunch with your little friends, and I’ll stay here and talk to myself.”

“Don’t be mad,” he pleaded as another laugh escaped. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. You’re just so impatient. And for what? My uninteresting little journal?”

“You’re annoying, did you know that?”

“Maybe, but you’ve chosen to sit here with me, so you must like me for some reason,” he pointed out. For some reason indeed. Once again, he was right on target. My mouth gaped open.

“Okay, I’m getting up––”

“No, please, Bella. I’ll behave myself now. I’ll tell you about my journal. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” His smile was dazzling, and his eyes were fierce, sweet, and sincere. I was mesmerized, stuck in the seat across from him.

“Okay,” I said stupidly.

“My journal,” he began seriously, “is sort of a Bible.”

I waited for him to laugh again.

“No, really,” Edward did laugh but not as though he’d told a joke. “I know that’s kind of strange.”

Religion had never been a major facet of my life. A dozen memories flickered through my mind of the times as a human where my mother Renée had gone through impassioned phases where she attended church, trying on multiple denominations and religions for size. But just like the rest of her sudden and fleeting interests, her spiritual high wore off, and we never spoke about God or church again. Only when I became immortal did religion take a more permanent place in my thoughts. But it was only the proximity to Carlisle that made me consider spiritual beliefs, and even then, it was simply another topic to devote thought to in all the endless space in my head and all the endless time in which to fill it.

I didn’t know particularly what I believed nor if I cared much, but I did know that if Edward was religious enough to tote around a bible at school, he’d definitely not be pleased to know he sat across from an actual vampire.

“You carry around a bible?”

“Well, don’t make any judgments yet, alright? It’s not exactly a bible. It’s kind of difficult to explain.”

“I think I can keep up,” I said simply, feeling slightly awkward but still curious. I glanced down at his untouched food. “But you should probably eat.”

“And what about you?” He asked, eyeing my full lemonade bottle.

I unscrewed the tin cap for his benefit. Following my lead, he opened the plastic container of his salad. I waited impatiently as he slowly ate his food.

I watched him as he ate, but when his eyes flickered curiously up to me, I fixated my attention on the lemonade bottle, tracing the mouth of it with my pinky finger.

After a few moments, Edward spoke up. “What are you thinking?”

I looked up to meet his light green gaze and felt stuck there again, compelled to reveal everything.

“I’m trying to figure out what you think I am,” I admitted only one of my concerns, though even this was much too honest. I thought of the inspiration he could draw from his religious text. The second beast. The Nephilim. Cherubim. Demons. Even though I didn’t have a true understanding of the contents of the book, some of Carlisle’s paintings had provided me with enough of an idea.

“I’m not having much luck with that yet,” he answered.

I laughed, relieved. “Well, you have only been given twenty four hours.”

“What else are you thinking?” he asked again, sensing there was more.

I sighed, feeling uncomfortable under his analyzation. The weight of his watchful eyes was too penetrative.

“That a boy who carries around a bible probably wouldn’t like me very much.”

“Why? Are you a sinner?” He smiled teasingly, but his eyes were soft as he tried to pull me again from the gloominess that seemed to steal me away.

“Something like that.”

“Well, aren’t we all?”

“Not all dogs go to heaven,” I answered. He chuckled at how I butchered the expression.

“Hmm… I’m not sure if I absolutely believe in a heaven, but if I do, I think the prerequisites to make it in are much broader than the Christian faith teaches.”

“You carry around a bible but don’t believe in heaven?”

“I said I’m unsure. And I said it was difficult to explain, didn’t I?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I hardly understand what you mean the majority of the time either.”

We both laughed, and the synchronicity of the moment made me forget my intentions with bothering him in the first place. It made me realize that in a way, I actually did feel fondly of Edward.

“Here, I’ll explain. I’m done eating anyways.” He used a napkin to dab at the corners of his mouth, then pushed it away on top of his lunch tray.

“My mother was very religious,” Edward began. “She wasn’t pious or bigoted or forceful about her beliefs. She was kind… devout. She believed in goodness. Her entire life had been dedicated to caring for other people. She wasn’t someone whose true intentions were to condemn others with the hope to save them from hell. Rather, she seemed more focused on saving someone from unhappiness. A lot of other believers have been known to connect with someone only for the end goal of forcing them to change the way they live for the sake of feeling as though they saved them. She had always been offended by this insistence to control another’s lifestyle, believing that any Child of God should truly only be concerned with loving others.

“I have pages of verses ripped out from her bible stuck throughout my journal. It may seem sacrilegious to destroy a bible in that way, but she’d read through it so many times that it had completely fallen apart. I tried to save it when she died, but there was no hope to. It was too dilapidated and tattered. So in my own journal, I have all these notes I’ve written on the notes she wrote in her bible. All these confusing erratic writings, these scribbles, I’ve been trying to sort out, just trying to figure out how to be a good person.”

At the end of his speech, my mouth dropped open. Quickly, I closed it again.

“So, do you believe in a god?” I asked after a few moments of silence.

“I’m not sure what I believe. If you don’t believe that all this world could have just happened on its own, which is hard for me to accept myself, then a god seems to be just as reasonable an answer as anything else. But I do believe in science as well. And once again, I don’t believe that any higher being who created the entire universe would be so particular and unyielding on such frivolous, harmless human matters as to what you do…or who you love… I’m hesitant to speak about god publicly, not because I fear any kind of persecution for my complicated beliefs, but because I know that the church has caused a lot of damage to a lot of people. And I don’t want anyone to think I support any of that harm. But for innocent believers, I see nothing wrong with wanting a reason to hold onto hope if that’s what religion is for them.”

“Neither do I,” I agreed, thinking of Carlisle.

“I think at the core of any religion –– and I definitely am interested in studying other religions as well –– is the same message. To do good by others and yourself. Of course, historically, religion has been weaponized as a means to take control over innocent people, but in considering people like my mother… I sincerely hope that there is a god. For her sake.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t worry.” Edward smiled his crooked smile. “I’m not about to try and sell you some religious propaganda. At no point will I sit you down and ask, ‘do you mind if I take a moment to speak about our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ?’ That’s never been my mission. I’m not entirely certain whether or not I even consider myself religious.”

“So what is your mission then with the journal?”

“Perhaps this will sound a little pretentious, but it’s not so much that I’m curious about the chicken or the egg scenario… Evolution versus creation… I don’t care very much as to how we got here. I guess because my mother believed so profusely, and I consider her to be such a great person, I’m curious as to whether our morality is innate as people, or if all goodness is because we have some kind of spirit within us leading us to want to do right by other people. I think overall, it is innate. An atheistic individual can do wonderful things for the world just as someone who claims to love Jesus can do terrible things. I don’t think anyone who doesn’t believe chooses to do good for God, but I wonder if that innate sense of morality, sense of compassion is ingrained into us because of the fact we do have souls. So the question I’ve been trying to answer all these years is… do we? Does my mother die, fade to nothing, with her body? Or did she live on because she had a soul?”

“Those are big questions for a seventeen year old.”

“Those are big questions for anybody, no matter their age. And questions humankind has been trying to answer for thousands of years,” Edward chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t expect to be the one to stumble upon the answers. More so, I’m really trying to find some purpose in my mother’s life. I do want to honor her, and maybe if I can understand all the things she wrote about people and about God, then I can.”

“So what do you write?”

“I write my thoughts on what she journaled about. And I write about all the good things I see someone do. About the reasons why I think they did them… I study people a lot.”

“Do you ever feel creepy?” I asked.

“Sometimes,” he laughed. “I mean, it’s not that I’d be the type to watch someone while they sleep. But if someone comforts a friend, picks up a stray piece of trash off the ground, smiles at a stranger… I try to take notice. I want to notice people.”

Edward sighed. “I know this must sound arrogant, but I really do believe I’m very sensitive to the thoughts of other people. At least, I try to be. For example, I know Sara must not be very happy that I chose to ride with you this morning, or that I am sitting with you now. I’m not oblivious to her feelings for me. But it’d be very ungentlemanly of me to accuse her of those feelings if she prefers to keep them secretive, so I’ll define a boundary if needed to protect her feelings whenever she chooses to come forth about them. I’d like to retain our friendship, but I still make my own choices.”

“So…” I began, ignoring his point about Sara. “Let’s say we all did have souls. Could someone lose that soul by any chance?”

“Hmm…” he thought, his eyes intent, piercing into mine as though he were trying to read my mind. “Now, that’s a big question for a seventeen year old.”

I laughed along with him.

“Well, I’m not sure whether or not you can lose your soul –– if we have them, of course. Perhaps you could damage the integrity of it or compromise it somehow. Could it be lost in death? If there is something of a heaven, does that automatically imply the existence of a hell? What purpose does hell serve in torturing one’s soul for eternity? Justice? Do some people perhaps deserve that fate? I want to say no, but then you think of awful, malicious people who have done awful, malicious things. Murder. Genocide. Rape. Isn’t the losing of your soul in death, fading into nonexistence too easy of a punishment? Do those people warrant a judge, jury, and executioner? I would hope that there are consequences to evil actions, but I don’t understand the idea that if such a place exists for the most vile of humanity, nonbelievers and sinners would go to the same place as well according to the Christian faith. I would say on that front, the Bible must be profoundly off. That aspect has to be invented by man for a means of control. What creator would wish such a fate on someone so innocent as to simply be uncertain about a god? So does a nonbeliever or sinner simply cease to exist, therefore losing their soul? Or is there some kind of alternative? Like a purgatory in the Catholic faith. That too seems a cruel fate from what should be a loving God.”

I felt slightly uneasy, wondering what he would think of my non-life, if he would consider this to be the alternative for innocent sinners. I wondered if he would believe I had a soul.

Edward softened his expression at my discomfort. His eyes were gentle and kind.

“But I don’t think I believe that. Like I said, I think the division between good and bad, right and wrong, is less black and white than most religious people believe. I think it’s gray, and I think any higher power would realize that too. So if you’re making that face because you’ve sinned a little here and there or murdered somebody, maybe you can make a comeback.”

Edward winked, and I forced myself to laugh.

“So would yesterday earn me some points?”

“Oh, definitely. You’ve practically merited an angel status.”

This time I did genuinely laugh at the thought of me as an angel.

“But again, as for what’s considered sin… I don’t subscribe to the majority of what’s considered biblical canon.”

“You don’t have to continue with the disclaimers. I believe that you’re not judging my sinful ways.”

“Correction, I don’t believe that God themself is judging you for your sinful ways. I never said anything about my judgment of you.”

I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling at the smirk on his face. “I’m not at all surprised that you have a god complex. That seems about right –– you do come off like the type to be very judgmental.”

“I’m notoriously difficult to impress,” Edward half-smiled. “Are we continuing this conversation in Biology, or are you growing tired of the dark and the heavy?”

“Not yet,” I answered. “But I overheard that we have a pop quiz, so you’ll have to save your pretty boy disciple thoughts for later.”

He chuckled as I stood up from the table, reaching to grab my untouched lemonade bottle and cap to throw away, then stopped me.

“I’ve got it,” Edward placed the bottle on his tray to dump into the garbage. I watched curiously as he pocketed the bottle cap.

“I’d say thank you, but I know you’re only trying to win points in the eyes of God.”

“Anything to get into heaven,” he laughed.

* * *

y’all know i had to make edward a lil christian boy. u know edward is the i wanna church girl who go to church… and reaaaad her biiiible vine. i do want to clarify again… unlike stephenie mormon, i have no agenda in speaking about religion in this fanfic. i’m not particularly fond of labels, but i am more agnostic than anything so… i’m not tryna convert anybody to anything. it just seemed very “classically edward” as rosalie would say.

i hope u enjoyed! i also wanted to say i really, really appreciate the comments! i haven't replied bc... i'm shy but i read them & truly feel very flattered. ♡

#equinoxjw #twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #twilight au #twilight #midnight sun #edward cullen #bella swan #edbella

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ukeealyptus · 4 years ago

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hey! i’ve been writing recaps since day one for the Crocker Corp arg, and figured i should start posting them to tumblr for people who aren’t in the discords! The recaps for the first ten days will be under the read more, and i will start posting daily recaps here :)

DAY ONE The officalcrockercorp tumblr began sending out an invite to 16 people on tumblr for an all-expenses-paid tour of the CrockerCorp factory. The representative then opened up a q&a about the company. People began to ask more about the representative, who we learned to be an isolated being with glowing red, mottled brown and white skin whom She (crocker) refers to as "Heir", though if that means heir to the company or heir as in the class is unknown. Heir likes whistling, movies, swimming, the color red, bunnies, etc. It is heavily implied that Her and Heir are underwater somewhere. Heir almost certainly has a crocker tiara on and is under control of the batterwitch, as is seen by the frequent obey/consume text when certain questions that She does not approve are asked. Heir has no recollection of saying those obey/consume things. All 16 invitees have responded. There is a security breach where Heir is, and they left to take care of the threat. After saying there was a lot of noise and they had to leave, they dropped the first code- which led to a youtube video of an imgur image of the discord code. The tumblr has continued to post recipes, though there is no sign of Heir. Some people managed to friend and get in contact with a "representative"- while most of their messages only said "Currently all questioning is closed in relation to Crocker Corporation! We thank you for your patience. ". People who asked for jobs were denied for confidential reasons, but one person managed to get in touch with a representative for a short time before they disconnected for unknown reasons. DAY 2 People began to message Jane- the discord representative, and learn more about her situation. Jane had originally been texting normally, but after a "meeting", and a pfp change to include the condesce headband, she could only send standard copied messages. We learned that Jane and Heir were being held captive and controlled by Condy. Heir had been MIA on tumblr for a bit, and people were having coded conversations with Jane, as she could only say "obey consume submit" for quite a while- people resorted to a "once for yes twice for no" type of system. We've learned that Jane and John (who had been going by Heir on the tumblr) were in immediate danger, but that we could safely contact them through the email, and we needed the help of the 16 chosen to help them. Jane then sent some people the invite to the server that the 16 had created, and a few people joined to help them figure things out. The 16 had learned that Jane is currently in May 32nd (lol) 2040, and that the 16 are dead. This death can possibly be prevented, but they are not quite sure how yet. OG16 began to receive coded messages about their classpects- typically insulting each person individually and calling them weak. An encrypted youtube link went up (video 3), it was very difficult to decode, and then Heir went offline and the blog got rebranded to CrockerCorp Employee JE(edited)[11:29 AM]A lot more information has been gained through tumblr dms, discord "hacking", and emails. Using the representative codes that we had gained for JE (john), JH( jade), GT (jake,) and K (condy's wife), people have been talking a lot- im gonna split it up into sections for each app. tumblr dms: tumblr user sarcasmprodigy (one of the og16) had a long discussion with John. Firstly, we learned that DAVE STRIDER, ROSALINE LALONDE, DIEDERIK "DIRK" STRIDER, and ROXANNE LALONDE are essentially wanted by CrockerCorp. Dave for offensive movies, Rosaline for blacklisted literataure spreading anti-crocker propaganda, and Dirk and Roxanna for cybercrimes. After asking for more information about the "project", prod was told they needed a representative code to learn more. They sent K's code, which had been gotten through discord, and began to learn more. K (presumed to by condy's wife), has a higher ranking than John, so he was curious as to why K would ask about it. Prod used the persona of being concerned about the security breach, nd learned that john was only doing what condy told him to, and that nothing that requires a CrockerCorp ID would be told to the public. After questioning about breaches and such, John revealed that he had received an email from Rose Lalonde, the Younger one, containing Roxanne's IP address. John trusts her, as he cannot prove or disprove the IP address, and wishes K the best, and tells her to say hello to Her. emails: As people were standard emailing the representatives, some people decided to make new emails and essentially pretend to be characters- we called them "impersonators". There was a Rose, a Dave, a Dirk, and a Vriska, though most of this information will be from Rose. Rose- referred to as the Younger Rose- has gotten some interesting information regarding timelines. There are two Roses; Rosaline (alpha rose), who is writing anti-Crocker propaganda, and is in frequent contact with Dave Strider, creator of movies, and Rose the Younger (beta rose), who provided a fake IP for Roxanne, as CrockerCorp wants to hunt her down. Dirk- Dirk's emails got us in contact with GT (Jake) and just have some of the funniest things. They clearly believe that they have Dirk on lockdown since they have his sisters (Roxanne's) IP address, and tell Dirk to go meet with Condy, since he presumably has hacked the coordinates of her location. Dirk and Jake had some sassy back-and-forth, ending with the funniest thing of "use code PISSOFFDIRK at checkout for a IHAVEYOURIP% off discount on an order of DRONES$ or more!" so it seems that CrockerCorp is sending drones to the fake address that Rose had sent. lastly is "hacked" discord messages: a few users, mainly @Cosmic , "hacked" into the Crockercorp files using JH's (Jade's) rep code. After trying to access the EMPLOYEE ARCHIVES, which was deemed to be above Jade's privileges, strike two was added onto her identification. Cosmic found information on other codes- JE's code revealed CODE JOHN EGBERT STATUS: COMPLETED RATING: PERFECT INFORMATION: )(A)(A)(A NICE TRY LOSERS, GET BENT AN SUCK MY DIIIIIIIICK (thanks for that, condy.) and using a strange new code labelled TR found CODE TUMBLR STATUS: ONGOING/COMPLETED RATING: DECENT INFORMATION: START TUMBLR BLOG WITH JOHN PROMOTING CROCKER BRAND PRODUCTS. after trying to access "past inquiries", the third strike was added and Jade was summoned to speak with Condy. Fearing that our mistakes have essentially killed Jade, Cosmic emailed John, saying that they couldn't access the room if their card was locked. John frustratedly said, in red "I'll do what I need to do, now go see Her!! You're distracting me from the blog, and I'm only one person after all!" (poor john, please give him a break) As of now, one user is using K's code, since prod is done with it, to access the discord. Everyone has decided that it is best that only one or two people contact the discord/dms/email at a time, and that only one person is ever using a code at a time, since it could be dangerous if two different people try the same code at the same time. I believe that that should be all the crucial information, but that might be edited later if i got stuff wrong! (3/3)[11:30 AM]Additionally. The Meeting between Condy and Jade happens "Off-Camera" recap of the information I got accessing the database under K Jade: alive, compromised, and unhostile, with two wash (brainwash) strikes. her projects were wiped with her. She has not worked on Sburb We need a code that we don't have yet to see information about the 16 and the "timeloop". jane is unknown (hostile or not), has 26 washes, and is uncompromised. Her id is 2-JC, implying that she is the second employee. I can't search up the first employee. dirk has committed a hilarious amount of crimes and is a stinky boy. he is alive and extremely hostile and once got arrested for "shits and giggles" roxy has committed several crimes including cyberbullying )(IC. dave strider 1 is half alive in a hospital- possibly related to second dave and dirk. crimes include being an asshole (+tall) and the sbahj movie. dave strider 2 is alive and stoic- crimes include calling )(IC a milf, lots of noise complaints on his record. brogarde strider is unknown except for the fact that he is possibly related to dirk and dave 2. most of his crimes inclue cyberbullying, and his very long arrest record mostly includes illegal possession of swords. rose lalonde 1 is alive and calm, at the location that Alice sent in her email. no crimes or arrests. rose lalonde 2 is alive and occasionally hostile, at presumably the same location as rose 1. offspring is unclear, crimes include anti-crocker propaganda, no arrests. ???? lalonde presumably Mom/ beta Roxy. no information. K: accessing her file led to a lot of blanks for name, status, bloodcolor, and projects. )(IC left a note that says ")(I SWEETIE <3" searching for K cause the system to shut down. there was a post on the tumblr that led to a code for another video showing footage of Roxy and Dirk that revealed the name of K- Kussinni. This name was used to finally log into the adfin account. Pat (as the adfin) made a few burner accounts that people can use. We got codes for MP, FP, EA, and DS, being the first few employees of the company. We did, well, adfin work, bumping up privileges for the adfin and guest accounts, creating burners for messages, etc. In classified documents, we learned that the 16 were set to beta test sburb in 2055. Brogarde is wanted ASAP so that he can be interrogated about strilondes. the timeloop file is largely redacted, but has to do with the 16 god tiering. We couldn't message )(IC, but we did get in touch with John for a few minutes before the system shut down. DAY 3 Jake is controlling the blog, though it is now shut down due to a massive security breach courtesy of Roxy and Dirk. Eridan has an account, and we used it to unblock Jade haha. People are talking to the person controlling the CC Discord! Their name is F which we knew from a code that we had gotten quite some time before)- we've been calling them Felix- and they are a psionic! They are an absolute 100% certified sweetie and we love them. They were taught emoticons, and even drew their own! They also invited dirk to talk with the 16. Dirk is currently just trying to get to Jake and de-crockertier him. After the security breach, Felix has not responded to anyone.

firstly, the tumblr led to a code to another video. The security breach was due to Dave 1 and Rosaline (both the older/alpha versions), who had infiltrated the Atlantic wing. 1000 drones were dispatched to deal with each of them. The video also showed felix- we now have confirmation that they are a goldblooded psiionic in control of the systems. felix/)(AI/Psiionic felix talked to us for a while! We learned that the breaches have mostly been sorted, Jade and Jane are both alive but in danger. jake is trying to work out Jades compromised identity. Felix told Dirk to piss his pants, and said "HE HE HE HE PISS BOY". Felix only knows the basics about the 16, such as their cl*sspects (which they needed to censor). Felix is not the only system, and the others are not friendly. Felix has only been "alive" for a few days, does not have a classpect, and got very upset when the deaths of the 16 were mentioned. Felix was made for the network to do everything, and vehemently refused to run a self diagnostic. HAL/DIRK It seems that the Dirk we have been talking to was HAL all along. @ardentTheorist [AT] , dm'ing Dirk, was given a very fun challenge: to hack HAL. Hal had three files: Main, Backups, and Memes. Memes was password protected. Main led to a python file, captchas, perms, and art. when asked about unzipped programs, hal had the amazing line of "I have an unzip your pants program installed in me". not relevant, just very funny. Captchas led to something titled "Hmm.txt" Perms required an admin code. Artwork was simply dirk's canon art. Trying to get into the meme folder and guessing an incorrect password caused hal to shut down. Currently, the contents of the memes, permissions, and backups folders are unknown. Dirk, in response to a partially successful hack of his bot and frustrated about having to reboot Hal, claimed "Yeah, just rid a guy of his privacy. Can't have shit inside a bot folder." DAY 4 Felix: got a lot of new information from felix including ID's for a lot of characters. Kussinni is confirmed to be the Disciple, Sollux is Felix's repair guy who lets Felix get away with his art, and everybody is wearing tiaratops with the exception of )(IC and K. felix is inside of a moniter. Jade's files have merged with Jake's after her accident. Felix can access some cameras but has seen nothing unusual. Dirk was the last person who managed to access Jake's files before the passwords got changed. Only one account has the privilege to prevent people from getting locked out for guessing incorrect passwords. The led to a conversation between F and Dave 1 (David Strider). F, who is using the name Felix (he liked the name we gave him!!!) reached out to try to contact Dirk, but got David instead. David has a prosthetic arm signed by Dirk and Roxy. Felix happened to reach David because he is living with Dirk. Their house seems a bit crowded- it seems that David, Dirk, Roxy, Rosaline, Dave, and Rose the Younger are all living together. That leaves Bro, and ???? Lalonde with unknown locations. Dirk posted something that linked to a little conversation that linked to a discord user- David. People have been talking to him, and we have gotten some useful information amidst all of the memes. Firstly, David attempted to convince people that he was Roxy. This seems fitting for him, as identity theft was on his criminal record. David was probably the cause of the shutdown earlier, though it seems that he and Rosaline were able to get in and out of crockercorp relatively unscathed. This will lead to more security in the future, undoubtedly. It also is why we still have not heard from Felix in a while. David knows a bit about Sburb- he was very shocked to learn that he was talking to people who in time (2040) were dead. He knew about a couple of the 16s deaths, but not all. He did not know anything about the Timeloop (the file we could not access). he knows that Felix likes Dirk, which explains why Felix was trying to contact him earlier. Honestly, we got far more goofs than solid information. David hates being called old but will consent to being called Dadvid, just learned what a dilf is, and is 6'8 and buff. he hates cops. He's remained pretty tightlipped on everything, which is valid since he probably doesn't fully trust us yet. got a new video of dirk pranking david and making him piss his pants. DAY 5 The CC mainframe was rebooted. The person/ai running it is still using ID F, but it is no longer Felix. However, Dirk managed to get a backup of Felix before the system shut down and Felix is now inside of the glasses with Hal. Yes dirk ships Halix (get cucked, ardent). Felix no longer has a blacklist of information that shuts him down, but he also doesn't have access to the mainframe so he can only tell us what he remembers. When the system was rebooted, alice was sent an anonymous message written in binary saying "They found you". this message was sent two minutes before the reset from sector D, where sollux works. We have assumed that sollux has essentially been stalking us. alice responded with a discord tag in binary, so hopefully we will get in contact with Sollux soon. Felix used to have a physical body. The last thing that he remembers from it is being called from his sector by Sollux, who said that he had a "new task". Felix doesn't know Mituna, but believes Sollux might have said it. When sent an image of the Dolorosa, the Disciple, the Sufferer, and the Psiioniic, Felix said he recognized the horns of the Dolorosa and said that he had seen the Sufferer before, in a photo in Kussinni's office. He also has seen the Psiioniic, and Felix is not the Psiioniic. Felix saw him when he was walking to his new sector, and he was in a big room guarded by scary trolls. He was awake and when he looked at Felix the room lit up red and blue, and then sollux told Felix it was rude to stare. Currently, we're waiting with hopes of getting in contact with Sollux. We've gotten a message from sollux and he yelled at us. i'm hoping to get his discord so we can talk to him DAY 6 We got in contact with Sollux. we've put him in a lot of trouble and danger and we need to stop trying to brute force our way into the system, and we've prolly gotten most of the info we can out of it anyway. The only way we should try to get into the system is if we absolutely know the password and preferably run it by sollux first. John is alive. GT says he's doing "mighty fine and dandy" but, well, i dunno how realistic that is. Felix saw him a bit before he was reset and said that he looked sad, but okay. jake was standing in the doorway with him. DAY 7 Dirk has specific orders not to talk about the other striders, though from whom is unclear. A security recap shows that Sollux was sent to check up on Aradia, who is a very important and heavily gaurded project- Artificial Godtiers (implying she godtiered without playing sburb, possibly). She is in her dead god tier. When a mechanical voice said to run the task Timeloop, she floated off of the ground and the room was encased in red light. Sollux has not been heard from. We got the password to Aradia's account and finally accessed the timeloop file. It appears that if anything happens to the 16 before the godtier, the timeloop will run and reset everything. The CC needs all of the 16 to godtier so that they can exploit their powers. The creation date of Aradia's account is redacted, and she cannot access any other files. Sollux is alive, with no wash strikes. Dirk has gone MIA. He's infiltrating CC to rescue Jake. This is risky, and he didn't even tell David about it, just sent a few messages to certain people and left. I expect that he will shut down the system to get in, and hopefully I will get a ping when that happens. Dirk went to rescue Jake, leaving Felix and Hal behind. Hal, Felix, and David will all help us rescue Dirk, though they're unsure as to how. DAY 8 There's a new representative on the CC tumblr: PH. As there is no PH in homestuck but there is a Prince of Heart, it seems that Dirk's mission was. . . unsuccessful. However, Hal is willing to work with us to save him. We've sent the Trojan file to the network, which will hopefully give us access to the cams. We can, theoretically, back up Hal and upload him into the CC Network; the opposite of what Dirk did to Felix. Hopefully Roxy will help us out. We aim to hack into a tiaratop. Roxy is going to back up Hal and then Ardent will upload him into the CC network. However, we should refrain from uploading anything to the network until we have Sollux's support. When we tried to upload the trojan file yesterday, sollux had to immediately kick everybody off of the system and implement a new password and he is not happy about it. however, that did get him to talk to us. he said that he saw dirk when he had to issue an ID for him, and that he looked extremely happy, though that isn't uncommon for new interns. His eyes were orange. I asked Dirk on the tumblr and he says that his left eye is red. Jake also has one red eye. This could mean that he is only half under control, and that we have a time limit for getting him back. Since Dirk and Jake are halfway there, it seems like its our turn to get them the rest of the way out. I will hopefully get a message from both Finn and Sollux when they are willing to talk, and I can get them to help us out. Our plan failed. But we got close. First and foremost: Finn helped. just a little; letting hal bypass a password, but it's absolutely something. I'll keep talking to him to see where we can get. When we tried to shut down Dirk's tiaratop, sollux yelled at us and deleted the files. sollux, while a cranky little bitchass coward who would rather block someone and pretend that his problems don't exist than actually do something (i promise im only still a little bit upset ;-; ). I tried to see if I could convince him to help, but he updated the security to ensure that we stayed out. I tried to tell him that we wanted to help Aradia, too, but he blocked me at the first mention of her name. (my bad) According to Roxy, Rosaline, Rose, and Dave all left the house to go somewhere. We got a new video that told us nothing we didn't know: it showed Dirk how Sollux described him; one eye red one eye orange, smiling broadly. His tiaratop is in the shape of the Prince crown. DAY 9 was widely uneventful- no answer from Sollux, David taking everything pretty hard, Finn is my best friend :). DAY 10

Dirk is a full employee. He's been artificially godtier'ed. It looks like hes similar to aradia- dead eyes. he is most likely being held with aradia. This might seem bad, but we can still save him. Sollux has a connection with Aradia and the AGT thing- this can work if we can get his help. The plan right now is, well, to come up with a plan. I'll talk to finn when he is offline and see if we can get confirmation about a lotta things and mainly see if he can contact Sollux for us. We'll continue to try to get in contact with Sollux. We'll work through this with the Strilondes and hopefully stay optimistic.

Sollux is willing to continue to talk to us!!! After a bunch of arguing, bantering, and death-threatening, he seems to have warmed up to us (he even friended me again!!! :3c). He just needed to be shown a little more kindness :). Amidst all the threats and cruelty, we seem to have learned a few things. CC can "bend time" and "redo anything", probably due to Aradia's powers. They could theoretically reset the timeline to before any of this, but that seems to be an empty threat for now. He can see all of the messages we send, even in hidden channels (we are Not going to witch hunt for a "mole" please and thank you) due to Hot Crocker Corp Tech. Sollux accepts how terrible his position at CC is, though this acceptance is mostly like the influence of the tiara. The tiaras seem to be influncing the emotions of the workers, numbing everything outside of their work. Sollux claimed that he was incapable of caring or remembering feeling happy or proud of, well, anything. He may say this, though it is still apparent that he cares deeply about Aradia. He talks about how pretty she is in her beautiful god tier outfit, and after some persuasion he even says that his favorite color is rust red <3. Unfortunately, the window that Sollux checks up on her through in only one-way, so she never sees or talks to him. This is what he meant when he said that he doesn't think his friends can see him.[5:31 PM]The superiors of CC are spreading propoganda to the workers about people dying when they tried to leave; it seems that they use fear tactics until their workers are completely numbed and controlled by the tiaras. There is no confirmation of these ideas being true or not. Sollux is still adamant about the fact that he is replacable; he uses this to frequently show his respect for Prod; another smart gemini. He mentioned something very curious- he said that the god tier powers of people outside of the 16 do not have to go unused. He told daven't to keep in contact with david for this purpose. As for the others: Hal and Felix seem to be fine, trying to take their minds off of what is currently happening and just enjoy watching some shows together. Both David and Roxy are getting hit pretty hard with everything, but will hopefully be okay. The system is currently shut down because pat mentioned heatbleeding to it. Sollux completely shut down the system at the first mention of it, so I don't think it'll work in the future. I'll hopefully get a ping when it goes back up, though I wasn't able to ask Finn for that before he shut down because it was so unexpected. Finn is very sweet and he's becoming more receptive to me talking to him (he uses exclamation points now instead of just periods!!!) so hopefully when the system goes back online i can talk to him more and he'll be willing to help us when we need it :) Now, this is kinda unrelated, but we should probably be careful about screenshotting most private dm's. Essentially, just don't let them know that you screenshotted it. We still need to make sure that everybody knows what is happening. The plan moving forward is to continue to talk, form allies, and get a solid plan :) . And that's all caught up! I will be posting recaps here at the end of each day from now on :)

#crocker corp #crocker corp arg #homestuck #sorry this is such a long post ive written a lot of recaps

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emilyplaysotome · 4 years ago

Text

The Game of Love - Chapter 1

Since I have a bad tendency to obsess over what I write until I give up on it, I’m posting the first chapter of something new I’ve been dabbling with. Think of it like an original Down the Voltage Rabbit Hole, without the characters you know.

Meeting someone special is hard for anyone, but more so when you’re famous.

I can’t tell you when it was that I went from being Hana to being Hana on a billboard, but it happened slowly enough that I went from eating virtually unnoticed at a restaurant to being bombarded with selfie requests during the short time I picked up my food. I suppose that being one of the youngest women to ever win a Grand Slam will force you into the spotlight, but I’ve never thought of myself as a superstar.

The goal had always been to win gold at the Olympics.

Maybe Roland Garros.

And Wimbledon.

The U.S. and Australian Open if I was lucky.

They never told me that if you win the Australian Open and then manage to win the others in the same year, the world goes mad. They never told me that Nike, Adidas, and Reebok fall all over themselves trying to get you to agree to let them put out the “Hana shoe” and you go from being a struggling journeywoman on the tour to being richer than you ever could have imagined, thanks mostly to your team who milks you for every free moment when you’re not on the court.

You learn how to wear dresses and talk on camera and carry the weight of what it means to be a champion, constantly looking over your shoulder at the younger, hungrier crowd behind you that works twice as hard and trains harder because they don’t need to be on Good Morning America when you do. Your identity becomes “Hana the Tennis Champion” and you forget who you were when you were just “Hana, the girl who loves tennis” – hitting balls after dinner with dad on the courts by your house or joking around with the girls on the junior tour.

Those girls become competition, and your friendship is forced to change despite wanting it to be the way it was when things were simpler. They are nice and you love them, but the feelings are complicated and you forget what it means to have friends who see you as you are. There is always a commitment, a show, a movie, a project, a product – even during the off season, and of course, there’s the training.

You’re grateful to be successful doing what you love, but you know it can’t last forever and one day you decide you want to go out on top and announce that you’re done with the game that up until this point has been your entire life.

And you’re only 32.

I’m only 32.

The day after I retired I woke up as Hana, for the first time in 20 years. I suppose it’s out of habit that I still wake up at 7 A.M. and go for a run, but it’s been a few months and not much has changed.

My mom suggested I get a therapist.

That this major transition would be hard on anyone, but even harder on a prodigy who has been used to a regimented training schedule since she was 11.

I laughed it off, but after a couple of weeks I could feel the unease nagging at me, mocking me, asking me, “Who is Hana if there is no tennis?”

My therapist says a lot of high achieving people struggle with their self-worth outside of their profession. She challenged me to reconnect with friends I’d made at all stages of my life and I learned that being great at one thing left little time for love, creativity, music, and hobbies.

I also learned that I didn’t make many friends in my 32 years since I was too focused, too dialed in to waste time on anything outside of the goal. To be the best in the world I had taken on the mentality that everything outside of my goal was superfluous, but now I struggle to make it through the day.

“Who is Hana if there is no tennis?”

“I am…I am…”

“What are you feeling Hana?” my therapist asks.

“Scared. Confused. Angry. Lost.”

I’d had this rosy image of retirement, where I’d leisurely wake up next to a partner and make breakfast for us. Not just any partner if I’m being honest…him.

“I wake up at 7 A.M. and run 5 miles,” I find myself saying. “Then I make a breakfast smoothie. And then I remember that I don’t have anywhere to be and the depression takes over.”

“Have you been doing interviews?”

I shrug, “Not as many. They asked me to do commentary for the U.S. Open this year and I said I’d think about it.”

“What is your hesitation?”

I pause, thinking about what it would be like to live a tournament without participating in it. To see and comment on someone’s legacy that wasn’t my own. To one day have to announce that I’d been dethroned in my achievements and smile as if it didn’t bother me, when I’d probably just wonder if I’d retired too early.

“I never wanted to be on television. And I want to be able to answer the question who Hana is if there is no tennis.”

“It sounds like this time is providing you with a beautiful gift – to explore that question and your interests without limitations.”

She’s right, and I feel guilty for pitying myself when I have the freedom to do and go wherever I want. I let out a caustic chuckle and say, “I want to live in my games.”

“The ones you used to play on the road?”

I nod, wondering how serious she thinks I am and wondering if the statement is a joke at all.

“Why do you think you like them so much?”

“It’s fun to be someone who isn’t Hana. And it’s fun to fall in love.”

“Has Hana ever been in love?”

I think for a minute and nod.

“But you knew that, didn’t you?” I ask.

She shrugs and pushes her glasses up.

“I’m asking Hana the person, not Hana the superstar.”

“But our breakup was all over the tabloids…”

“Our time together is about you, not what’s in a tabloid.”

“Superstars have to date superstars. It’s like a law,” I say laughing. “What would Instagram think if I gave them anything other than aspirational?”

I’m lying but I can’t help myself, even in therapy my pride gets in the way of being honest. Dating him was never about appearances, at least, it wasn’t for me.

“Tell me about him.”

Eight years of memories flash in my mind, 22 to 30.

“We met after I won my first major. His movie premiere had him in Australia and he got tickets to the final. We ended up at an after party together and he gave me his number. It was good until it wasn’t and then he broke up with me.”

“That’s a very condensed version.”

I shrug again, feeling bitter that he seems to have moved on just fine and I haven’t dated anyone despite the rumors that pop up from time to time. I don’t feel like talking about how I kept pushing for us to move forward, with a vision for my retirement and life with him as he kept pushing for me to stay on the road. I don’t feel like talking about how much of our time was spent apart and how I suspected he preferred things that way.

That it was better to have a girlfriend too busy to take up more than an hour of his day on a regular basis than a girlfriend who could be present the way she wanted to be when we were together.

A pleasant chime goes off and she silences the alarm, noting we’re out of time and asking if next week works.

“My schedule is free,” I joke, but I feel annoyed that there’s nothing but endless free time and nothing to do with it.

When I’m home I open the games I referenced in therapy – the ones I jokingly call “choose your anime romance adventure games” with my mom versus their proper designation of “otome” games, as they’re known with the fandom online that I’m a part of. It’s only when I’m online that I feel like I can momentarily answer the question that nags at me, and that’s because no one know I’m me.

HanaLovesOtome the tumblr user is popular because of the screenshots she posts, not because she’s one of the most celebrated athletes of a generation.

She participates in every event and has spent an ungodly amount of money on special date stories and lottery gatcha items that put her consistently in the top ten featured users of Ikemen Inc.

She’s popular because people will ask her to purchase stories and games they can’t afford, and she’ll video record herself playing or twitch live stream the sessions so everyone can get a sense of what it’s like to fall in love with Ikemen Inc.’s most exclusive bachelors.

Even when I was on tour, I loved playing otome games because for a couple of hours I could stop thinking about my life and instead lose myself in a world overseas where I get to make choices for a protagonist whose name I’ve made my own as I decide what eligible bachelor she’ll fall in love with.

I’d found the games a year before we’d broken up, mostly by chance after seeing an ad on twitter that boasted, “The Perfect Boyfriend is in your phone - meet him now!” While normally I would have continued to scroll past, something about the caption had stopped me in my tracks. Looking back it was probably because the idea of the “perfect boyfriend” being in my phone was ironic having had such a drawn out long distance relationship in which it often felt that he only existed in my life virtually.

After entering my name for the main character I would be controlling, “Decoding His Affections” thrust me into a world that consisted of a simple illustrated background, paired with a cartoon character sprite whose various expressions matched the dialogue being said in the text box where the story played out.

While the prologue of “Decoding His Affections” was free, it ended with a prompt asking me who out of the five characters I’d just met, I wanted to get to know as my Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department partner and future perfect boyfriend. For the low price of $3.99, I could purchase one of five options and determine how my protagonist would fall in love. Depending on my dialogue selections, I was either granted a “Love Ending!” or a less desired “Happy Ending!”

Throughout the course of 13 interactive chapters, Sebastian went from being my underling, to my partner, and finally, to my boyfriend. As the protagonist with my name started to fall for Sebastian, I found myself enjoying the escape from my reality with a game “self” who always met with a positive response in love.

I soon found myself lost in a world where I could be transparent with my intentions without any fear of rejection. Sebastian clearly liked my main character back, but was conflicted about falling for a woman whose time in Tokyo had an expiration date. Even though their relationship was in a grey zone for the majority of the game, he was always warm, always loving, and most importantly, had responses that gave me butterflies as I read his poetic musings from a cold hotel room after a long day of training.

Seeing as how these games were a product of Japan, in addition to the subdued romance I also found myself getting a kick out of the cultural differences that were peppered throughout the story. Simple gestures such as the time that Sebastian grabbed her hand in order to protect her from an impending explosion, resulted in a shook inner monologue where my heroine wondered if her heart was racing from the danger, or because of the physical contact. There was something sweet about this world in which men and women shared a shyness around physical touching that was unlike anything I’d ever experienced as a Western woman. Handshakes, hugs, and even kisses on the cheek were something that happened in my life on a daily basis, yet I was suddenly living in a world via my phone where every gesture was laced with romantic subtext.

It was clear that the only thing Ikemen Inc. changed in their games was the names of their clearly Japanese love interests, in order to better appeal to a western audience. Other than that, their games remained true to their point of origin.

Looking back, our relationship was already strained with me hinting towards my expiration date and him pushing me to stay on the tour. The day I’d played my first otome game we were bickering over text about it, him convinced it would be better for both of us if I refocused on my career instead of settling down with him in his Calabasas home. As I achieved Sebastian’s coveted “Love Ending!” thanks to my carefully selected dialogue choices, I surprised myself by tearing up in which I read an ending where Sebastian confessed to me, or moreover the woman I whose life I was intermittently controlling, his undying love.

I’d felt a bit foolish at the time, having fallen prey to simple plot devices and romantic tropes, however Sebastian had done something for me that my relationship could not.

He’d managed to touch that part deep in my heart that still wanted to believe that romance was possible in this world, and more importantly, was possible for me.

In the weeks to come I found myself leaning on these games more and more as it became clear that my vision for the future did not align with his, it felt like every free second I was pouring myself into my fantasy life. By the time he ended things, I’d made way through the entire Ikemen Inc. catalogue of premium games and started to make my way into the exclusives with a higher price point, more beautifully illustrated scenes (CGs), and the Ikemen Inc. community leaderboard.

I play them a lot lately.

Maybe too much.

When I log in to my tumblr I see a message from my friend KittyGirl.

OMG Hana! Did you see they released Tyler Holland?

I saw and I played and I’m posting the full vid on twitch later ;)

…

I wonder who KittyGirl is as she types, and I wonder if she ever wonders who I am. I wonder if she would care if I was Hana the superstar or if she even follows tennis.

A lot of the girls on here don’t.

A lot of the girls on here are much younger than I am.

I wonder if it’s weird I don’t have many friends my age and that the people I feel closest to at the moment are all usernames in my feed.

STOP HANA YOURE THE BEST!

I smile because it gives me a sense of purpose and I haven’t felt that for some time.

It’s really good. He might be in my top 5 boyfriends.

NO. Really!?

Really.

Sometimes I wish that the men in my phone would come to life. That one day I would wake up and Sebastian would be there in human form, not his two-dimensional anime character form. I’ve thought about what he would look like if he were real.

Not just him.

Him and all the others I’ve dated over the years.

I wonder what it’d be like to date someone you know would never leave you.

Who could be that perfect boyfriend, or husband, or father.

It’s just as I’m thinking about this again that my phone chimes, letting me know I’ve received an email. I’m surprised to see it’s from Ikemen Inc. and that HanaLovesOtome has been invited along with the four other top Ikemen community users for an all-expenses paid, one month vacation to Ikemen’s Dream Resort.

My gut reaction is to scream, “Yes!” but then I remember I’m Hana the superstar.

What would people think if they found out?

What would the tabloids write if they saw me?

I pause.

Who is Hana if there is no tennis?

Hana is HanaLovesOtome.

And so I write an email back, deciding not to loop in my management team, and let the team at Ikemen Inc. know that I would be delighted to experience the resort. The response back is immediate and includes additional details and an NDA.

I skim the details of the agreement, relieved that I am not allowed to talk about the experience as that means no one else will and my identity as Hana the superstar will most likely be off limits to the press and send it back.

It all happens quickly and before the hour is up I’ve managed to secure my spot in the Ikemen Fan 5.

In the two weeks leading up to my departure, I no longer feel depressed or as if time stretches out in a way that makes me feel small and insignificant. I have an event to look forward to and arrangements to be made.

My therapist thinks a solo trip will be good for me and encourages me to journal and continue with the homework she’s given me outside of our sessions. My mom agrees that it will be good for me to have a real vacation which is something I haven’t had in years.

I’ve seen the world through touring but I’ve never really had time for tourism.

To that point, when I get on the plane it strikes me that this is my first time on a plane without the purpose of coming from or going to a tournament. I check two large suitcases and still bring a racquet in case I need the release of losing myself in a training session or two, despite the fact my performance no longer matters.

I wear the sunglasses I always wear to obscure my identity in first class and a wig and baseball hat and n95 mask, which always does the trip. At Narita airport, I see a man holding a sign that says “HanaLovesOtome” and I follow him to a town car that takes me two hours outside of Tokyo proper. It’s only when we pull off the main road, down a long skinny isolated one that I take off my disguise and breathe a sigh of relief that I managed not to attract the attention of any photographers or fans.

In my head I always saw Ikemen Inc. as a small developer, tucked away on a floor in a nondescript office building somewhere in Toyko.

The reality of their facilities surprised me, and we drove 15 minutes through dense woodland, past another small road with a sign indicating guest and employee parking - up to a manicured property where at the center was a sleek looking high rise. My driver stopped under the porte-cochere and helped me with my suitcases, triggering the mechanism for the large glass double doors to open which caught the attention of a man inside.

“Please, allow me to be of assistance,” he said, quickly grabbing the roller’s handles and helping me in to a spacious reception area. “I’m Roman and I run the resort division of Ikemen Inc.”

“Hana.”

There was something familiar about the way that Roman talked and the way he dressed that I couldn’t quite put my finger on as he introduced me to the woman at reception and made small talk about my trip. I engaged in the idle banter until the persistent feeling that I knew him from somewhere became so overwhelming that I finally found myself asking, “Have we met before?”

“Yes,” a female voice called out behind me.

I turned to see a girl, no older than 20 approaching us with a suitcase of her own. She wore the same expression that countless fans wore upon recognizing me as they rushed up to me and asked for a selfie except she was not looking at me, but at Roman.

“He’s Roman Hinton, from Ikemen’s Paradise Palace.”

“Ah, you’ve stayed with us in Paradise I assume?” Roman asked the girl smiling.

“Oh you have no idea,” she said dreamily, and it was then that I realized my wish of dating one of the men in my phone might come true.

That’s the end of my rough first chapter. Let me know if you want to know where we go from here and I might post more. Tagging @nitelotus since she asked to see it

#down the voltage rabbit hole #voltage fanfic #voltage games #voltage romance sims #voltage inc #mlqc #ikemen #ikemen sengoku

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