#that infested stuff in the back right looks unfamiliar as well

[upsidedownsmore]

ok new warframe mobile trailer cool coo-

IS

IS THAT AN INFESTED JACKAL ROOM??

[convexicalcrow]

In which I decided to write the ending of this fic until it was done... 4k words later. XD Enjoy. <3

---

False landed on the outskirts of the Ancient Capital. She really didn't want to have to go and confront Pix again, but this wouldn't be over unless she did something about it. She didn't see him anywhere, though he was online somewhere. Maybe down in the catacombs? Maybe.

Maybe she should call for back-up. That might also be a good idea. Perhaps a better idea. But there was really only Impulse, and he was busy working in the nether last time she checked in with him. Scar and Cub were too far away to help right now. Well, she didn't know they were too far away, but she had trusted them to the nether search, and maybe an amnesiac and Scar were perhaps not the best pair to send on that particular expedition. Truth is, though, she wasn't sure she trusted them with this task either. She didn't want to risk either of them being infected again.

She sighed. Seems it was up to her to fix this problem. Pix had warned her to stay away last time, and she was very definitely ignoring that warning. Perhaps that was unwise. Still, no time to back out now, right? The skulk couldn't be allowed to continue infesting him, and if no one else was going to take up the fight, then it was going to have to be her, as usual. Cleaning up everyone else's mess. That seemed about right.

She slowly made her way into the city, trying to think of places where Pix might be, assuming he was here, of course. She didn't know for sure that he was here, but something told her that he was. The place was quiet, apart from the shuffling and kicking and sharp chirps of the dodos. It felt… eerie. Like the air knew something bad was about to go down. False didn't like that feeling either. Perhaps she was unwittingly walking into a trap. If she was, at least she could fight her way out of it. Scar and Cub wouldn't stand a chance.

Well, best start somewhere then. If she was going to get this far in, she might as well do this properly. She flew over to the catacombs and entered, heading down the stairs into their depths. Maybe he wasn't here either, but she had to check, just to be sure.

-

"Hey guys! Just a quick question before I head over, do either of you have any enderpearls?" Impulse said, getting them both in a call.

"I know I don't," Scar said.

"I know Joe donated a whole bunch to your base, Cub, but I don't know if you have any on you," Impulse said.

"Honestly, I haven't really looked through what I've got on me but maybe, maybe. We'll see." Cub got out his enderchest and set it down to look through his items. "Why did he give me all those enderpearls then? I don't remember that happening."

"I believe it was because you and Cleo burnt his totems. So he rerouted the trash to your base and now you have all the enderpearls. So yeah, have fun with that," Impulse said.

"Yeah, that seems fair," Cub said. He'd looked in a few shulkers and had found no pearls. "Not looking promising though. I have some prismarine blocks for some reason though in case you need those."

Impulse laughed. "Nah, I'm good. In that case, I'll bring the bedrock-breaking kit. You'll need to dig up to bedrock so you can help me find the best place to break it, yeah? I'll be maybe ten minutes. Three thousand blocks in the nether is a long way out for sure. How did you even manage that?"

"You know how easy it is to get lost down here! You take one wrong turn in unfamiliar territory and suddenly you're a thousand blocks from where you thought you were and can't remember how to get back!" Scar protested.

"He took me through the wrong portal. He wanted to show me the froglight farm but yeah. Now we're here," Cub said.

"Oh, of course! Anyway, hang tight, I won't be long, alright?" Impulse said.

"We'll dig up and meet you there, alright?" Cub said.

"Carve out a hole when you reach bedrock, there will be explosions!" Impulse said. "Make it Scar-safe, Cub! I don't want either of you losing your stuff this far out."

"On it, Impulse. Thanks again, I'm not sure I'd have been able to get us back. I'm… navigating is difficult at the best of times, let alone off the back of such a large blackout, yeah? So I'm glad you're here because I'm not sure Scar could have rescued us either."

"It's no problem, I was working in the nether anyway. I'll be over in a bit, yeah? Seeya soon," Impulse said and left the call.

"Well, Scar, I guess we're digging up," Cub said as he picked up his enderchest.

"I guess we are! Thank the Vex for Impulse!" Scar said as he started digging upwards.

-

False found no one in the catacombs. What she did find, however, was a very nondescript hole in the ground leading to a staircase that she almost didn't see because it was so covered with skulk that the stone beneath wasn't easily visible. Maybe- maybe she should go down there. That seemed like a better lead. She got out her communicator.

scar, cub, maybe get to pix's base as soon as you can? not sure if this will be dangerous, not sure he's even here, but you know, just in case?, False sent to Scar and Cub. If she was going to go down and confront him, she wanted them to be not far behind her, ready to unleash the hoards of Vex should she be infested or otherwise incapacitated.

She took a moment to steady her breath and drew her sword. "Alright, here goes nothing."

-

She headed down the staircase, carved out of the rock. The smell of skulk slowly got stronger, though whether this was a sign of his presence or not, she didn't know. But there was definitely skulk down there at any rate.

The staircase stopped, opening out into a large cave. In front of her was a great skulk covered … thing? There was a spawner there, she could see that now. Maybe this was for making skulk? Maybe. She dared get a little closer to the edge and looked down to see … wait, was that Pix sitting in the middle of all that skulk? It was hard to tell, there was simply skulk everywhere.

Dare she go down? That seemed… unwise. But then two blue-green bright eyes stared straight into her from down below, and she froze. Pix was definitely here, and he knew she was here too. And then the figure vanished, and before False could run, Pix had appeared through the skulk on the wall close by, veins shooting out to wrap around her.

"I thought I told you to stay away, vex," Pix hissed as he pulled her close.

"Er, yes, yes you did, you definitely said that," False said, trying not to show her fear.

"And yet, you ignored my warnings. Well, then. I can't be held responsible for what happens to you now. You should've stayed away. But perhaps that guilty conscience got the better of you. After all, why exactly are there two of you? Do you happen to know? Not everyone knows, but I know. I've seen into your mind. I've seen the secrets you're keeping from the other one, and from your friends. You wouldn't want me to tell, would you?" Pix said.

False froze. He couldn't possibly know. Could he? "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's just you in different outfits, is that it? Like Gem and her LARPing? Yeah, that's definitely just it. Only there aren't two Gems here, are there? But there are two Falses. So, tell me, which one's the real one? You? Or the one who's memories you wiped and want to keep as far away from the Hermits as possible?" Pix said.

The veins squeezed tighter around False, and her sword dropped to the ground, the muscles in her hand cramping in such a way that she let go without warning. How did he even know all of this? There's no way he could know all of this. Right?

"There's only one False, I swear. I-It might just be someone who looks like me, right? That has to be it. A cosplayer, maybe. Maybe that's it," False said, struggling to find a more convincing argument without giving away how correct he was.

Pix laughed. A vein moved up her face and False could feel it trying to get inside her brain. "Now, I wonder what would happen if spilled all your dirty little secrets, hmm? I wonder if your friends would still be your friends if they knew what you'd done. Because that's the thing about skulk. It gets inside your brain. And the Vex don't care about you nearly as much as they care about those other two. Who'd miss you if the skulk claimed you as well? No one. Your dark heart is just what the skulk like best. It's rotten already."

Every word he spoke simply evoked more terror into False until she couldn't move, couldn't speak, could only stare into Pix's horrid glowing eyes as veins spread out through her hair, sinking painlessly into her brain. Pix's eyes were the last thing she remembered.

-

It hadn't taken that long to dig up to bedrock and clear a space. They'd had a lucky run and had managed to find only one spot of lava to get around, and now they had a nice little cavern carved out. Cub had already identified a couple of potential blocks Impulse could use. He hadn't forgotten everything, to be fair.

"Hey, hey! How are my lost little lambs?" Impulse said as he called them again. "I'm about a thousand blocks away. Are you up by the roof yet?"

"Yeah, we're ready. Got a couple of spots you can use. Want me to send the coords?" Cub said.

"Yeah, please do. It'll make the set-up faster if we don't have to do that once I arrive," Impulse said.

"Yeah, False has asked us to meet her somewhere as soon as we can, so anything that speeds up the process, you know?" Cub said. He got his communicator out and sent Impulse the coordinates he'd found. "Check your messages. I've sent the coords over."

"Thanks, man. I'll call again when I'm over there," Impulse said and left the call.

"We're pretending we don't know what False wants us for, right? If he asks?" Scar said.

"Yeah, of course. I got a feeling she's in big trouble though. The Vex are screaming again. We might need to deal with this on our own," Cub said.

"Oh, no, surely Impulse would help if we asked!" Scar said.

"Too difficult. Let's just keep it simple. The fewer involved, the better," Cub said. "We don't know for sure that she's been taken, but we need to prepare for that."

"Right, of course. We're going to need to be in Vex forms, aren't we?" Scar said.

"I think so, yeah. We may need to taunt them to bring them out, then attack. Focus on curing, not killing. Killing doesn't work, it just spreads the skulk. So we want to avoid that," Cub said.

"Right, right, of course. I didn't think of that. But the potions will be enough, right?" Scar said. "On the swords?"

"Should be, yeah. Of course, we don't know if there will be any other effects on a non-Vex like Pix, but we should be able to get rid of the skulk. False should be fine, though. But yeah, we should hurry over there as soon as we're out," Cub said.

-

Impulse was with them soon after, and before long, Scar and Cub were climbing up onto the roof as Impulse packed away his redstone.

"So where's the way back?" Cub said, looking around.

"Oh, I'll take you, don't worry. You kinda ended up pretty much east in a straight line, weirdly enough! So it won't take us long to get back," Impulse said.

"Oh, of course. That'd be right. Thanks again, Impulse. I don't know what we'd have done if you hadn't been around," Scar said.

"Oh, you could have just flown back towards zero-zero, but I get it, especially if False is asking for you. Come on, this way," Impulse said.

-

Cub and Scar took their Vex forms once they hit the overworld and had said goodbye to Impulse. Travel would be significantly faster, and they could collect the Vex who had been preparing to fight off the skulk. Vexspace was chaotic again, though. It seemed False had been ripped away from Vexspace and they'd lost contact with her. Definitely not a worry.

They went to Pix's base, where the skulk had spread so much that Pix's builds were almost buried under it. At least it was concentrated around the catacombs and the statue, but it still looked very ugly.

"I think this has gotten worse, far worse. More than we can handle," Cub said.

"Maybe, maybe. But we can't just run away. We're the ones who can actually fix this. We can't let the skulk keep possessing our friends like this. It was hard enough with you, I don't want this to happen to anyone else, alright? We go in. We fix this," Scar said. "I promised I would burn all the skulk in this land for what they did to you, and I meant that. This ends today. We take them all down."

"Then I guess we'd better go find them then, hadn't we?" Cub said.

-

The Vex flew, phasing through the land as they sought out Pix and False. They quickly found them underground by the skulk machine. Cub held them back. He didn't want to risk Vex lives if he didn't have to. But it did confirm that False had also been corrupted. They sat down in the skulk, watching the spiders from the spawner above them fall and die, spreading skulk all over the stone below them.

"They can travel through the skulk. Their bodies may be difficult to hit. But I don't know if seeding the skulk with the potions would also work," Scar said. "I know they can do that, because I saw you do it, Cub, before you were cured. Their bodies are like the Vex, impermanent faces of the skulk itself. How do you fight something like that?"

"Hmm. Tricky. Maybe we try both? Some distract Pix and False and get them stabbed, while others seed the skulk itself? Do you want to lead the charge, Scar? Hotguy those pesky skulk into oblivion? I can watch from here and see if the potions work on the skulk down here. Maybe it will if there are bodies attached," Cub said. "And if it doesn't, we'll be backup."

"Sounds good to me. Alright, half the Vex, come with me! We're moving in!" Scar said.

Cub watched them peel away, hoping they would be successful. Two would be far more difficult to deal with than one, but maybe they could succeed if they attacked from both sides, through their bodies, and through the skulk. They could move faster than the skulk could, able to teleport instantaneously elsewhere in the world. Dropping their nametags would transport them back to Vexspace. That was the plan to save as many Vex as possible.

Cub looked down, distracted by shouting. Pix and False were definitely distracted, though it was hard to see what was going on. The impressions Cub was getting from the other Vex were veins being used as lassoos, or as whips, attempting to grab the Vex out of the air and kill them, but the Vex were tricky, and had no physical body, so the veins just didn't work at all.

Cub got his potions out, and uncorked a couple of bottles. "Now, maybe we'll all want to stab the skulk with our swords too, but I'm going to pour it on. If anyone wants to take another couple of bottles and get closer to the skulk down there, that may work too. Splash them onto the skulk, that should work. I hope."

A few Vex came forward and took some bottles, emboldened by their fellow Vex being untouchable. Cub gave out as many as he had, and then started pouring the potion onto the skulk, hoping it might make it retreat, or die, or, well. Something.

-

Scar swooped down to slice at False, managing to hit her arm this time. She cried out and tried to hit him back, but he was too fast. They were slowing down as the potions kicked in. That much seemed clear.

"Got you, Falsie! The skulk won't take you this time!" Scar cried as he flew around and went in for another attack.

"You couldn't kill me last time, what makes you think you will now?" False spat, eyes angry as she shifted around him.

"Oh, I've brought all my friends with me this time. You'll have to try harder than that," Scar said, dodging another attack as False's sword barely missed his ribcage.

A flurry of Vex collided into her, and she cried out, clearly in pain. "No! What have you done to me? Stop the burning!"

"The skulk must die, False. All of it must die," Scar said.

Scar wheeled around and went after Pix, catching him off-guard as he sunk his blade into his shoulder. Pix nearly got him as he turned and swiped at him instinctively, but Scar was out of the way before Pix could react.

"The skulk will die! All skulk will die!" Scar cried as he flew up to the spawner and broke it, denying the skulk below any further fuel.

-

The skulk hadn't really retreated much from the potions thrown onto it, which Cub wasn't surprised about. Instead, he got out his hoe, the one thing he knew would work to clear up the skulk, and got to work, sending the rest of the Vex to go help Scar.

If the skulk wanted to spread so badly, clearly the antidote was to remove it and stop it spreading. He'd seen Scar remove the spawner, and he clearly wanted to destroy whatever contraption this was. Cub was fine with that. He worked fast, pushing the skulk ever lower, ever smaller, as he shrunk the space the skulk took up.

Scar seemed to be holding his own, too, though there had been some struggle at first to figure out how to fight them when they kept disappearing into the skulk. Apparently annoying them into a fight was the solution to that particular problem, and then it became easy. Well, easier. They would still need to watch them, and keep throwing potions at them until the skulk was clear. Getting them away from here would also be a benefit. They didn't want to risk the skulk spreading to them again.

-

"Oh! Remove the skulk! Good idea, Cubby!" Scar said as he checked in with him. Pix and False were still struggling, but the skulk seemed to be weakening. He grabbed his hoe out and started clearing the area, tasking the Vex with keeping the potions up until it seemed safe.

"If you think the skulk will forgive this, you are wrong. We have been here from the very beginning, and we will be here at the very end of time. Our memories are long. The Vex will pay for this!" Pix said as he lunged at Scar.

"Oh, oh no! Not this time!" Scar said as he flew out of the way. "The skulk will not live! Give me our friends back!"

Pix seemed to stiffen, his body stilling, as the skulk seemed to retreat. "Enjoy what's left, then, pathetic little vex."

Pix collapsed then, and Scar was at his side, catching him before he hit the ground. He picked him up in his arms and got him as far from the skulk as possible. "Cub! Help!"

Cub was by his side immediately and took Pix in his arms as Scar handed him over.

"Take him somewhere with no skulk. I'll go get False," Scar said.

"On it. We'll head back to the mansion, quarantine them there," Cub said.

Cub flew off, and Scar went back to see False staggering towards him, arms outstretched, reaching for him.

"Oh, False! You looking for me? Try catch the HoTGuY now!" Scar said as he loosed a few more potion-tipped arrows into her.

"You'll pay for this, Scar! I'll have your head as a trophy for this insult!" False said as she tried to grab him.

Scar circled around, taking a moment to remove some more skulk, before he turned to find her on her hands and knees, eyes looking big and afraid and finally free from skulk.

"False? You okay?" Scar said, keeping another arrow locked on her just in case.

"S-Scar? I-I don't-" Her voice was cut off, and skulk veins seemed to come after her, grasping her ankle. She looked behind her, trying to pull away. "Oh, god, what's going on? Scar? What's this?"

Scar flew down and cut the veins loose. "Get back! She's ours! Try it again and I'll burn this whole place to the ground!"

He pulled False into his arms and flew away from the skulk. "It's okay, False, I've got you. You're safe with the Vex now."

"Vex? Am I a Vex?" False said, exhaustion filling her voice.

Scar didn't cry, not yet anyway. "You're the best Vex I've ever known, False, I promise. Now, let's get you out of here."

-

Pix and False had been placed in the same room Cub had recovered in once they got back to the mansion. The priests were tending to them to ensure the skulk had completely left them. Scar and Cub were at least together now, pacing near the room, anxiously waiting to hear how they were.

"I hope they haven't forgotten as much as you have, Cub. I'm not sure I'd forgive myself if that happened," Scar said.

"It's not your fault. None of this is your fault. You didn't erase my memories, the skulk did," Cub said.

"But-but I should have noticed! I should have been with you! Not messing about in Trouble Town! As soon as I felt you leave Vexspace, I should have been with you," Scar said.

"Honestly, Scar, please, stop blaming yourself. It's not going to solve anything, alright? Just be glad we stopped the skulk. And you destroyed that machine, right? So hopefully there's no more skulk spreading anywhere," Cub said.

"Oh, I destroyed it alright. I burnt all the skulk from Pix's empire and restored it with Joe as best I could. That machine is dead. Gone. Buried. We tore it all apart, and burnt everything. Hopefully that's all we need to do," Scar said.

"Yeah, here's hoping the fog doesn't try it again, too. That's where I got corrupted, apparently," Cub said.

"Well, you can't destroy fog! But you can stay away from it. So hopefully this will teach everyone to stay far away from that fog," Scar said.

"I hope so. I don't want anyone else going through this. Come on, I'm starving. Let's go eat. You can tell me more about the things I've missed. Maybe it'll jog my memory after all," Cub said.

Scar brightened. "Yeah! Joe said he was making some kind of rabbit stew too, like a really, really good one! And he made cookies for dessert!"

"Well, I can't say no to that," Cub said.

[olderthannetfic]

It's really surprising that you're so well versed in older fandoms and yet participate in new popular ones (that cdrama, kpop) is this by design? Im in my twenties and my interest turnover is already way slower than it used to be

You know, that’s a really interesting question. I wouldn’t say it’s by design exactly in that I do tend to just follow what strikes my fancy, and I can’t force myself to want to write fic for just anything. (I find it easier to like reading fic without serious involuntary emotional investment, but writing takes more. Vidding I can do on command most of the time, but I don’t usually bother unless I have a lot of feels or I’m fulfilling someone’s prompt.)

However, me getting into BTS was 100% due to me wanting to understand BTS enough to explain to people who weren’t very interested but wanted to know what was going on in fandom lately. Under normal circumstances, I run the dance party at Escapade, the oldest extant slash con. We borrowed vividcon’s thing of playing fanvids on the wall--all of them set to dance music--as the soundtrack for the dance party. This means I’m creating a 3-hour mixtape of fannishness, which has amazing potential to make people feel in the know about Fandom Today... and equal potential to make them feel alienated if nothing they care about shows up. Only about 100-150 people attend the con, so it really is possible to make a playlist that feels inclusive yet informative--it just takes a huge amount of work.

Every year, I do a lot of research on which fandoms are getting big and look for vids from vidders people won’t have heard of, so there is an element of consciously trying to keep up with things. Generally, I only get into these fandoms myself if I had no idea what they were and then suddenly, oops, they’re my kryptonite, like the buddy cop android plot in Detroit: Become Human, which sucked me in hard for like 6 months on the basis of a vid.

(So if you’re into cross-fandom meta and associated stuff as one of your fannish interests, you tend to have broader knowledge of different fandoms, old and new, than if you’re just looking for the next place you’ll read fic. It’s also easier to love vids for unfamiliar things than fic.)

But though I was only looking for a basic primer on BTS, BTS has 7 members with multiple names and no clear juggernaut pairing, not to mention that AU that runs through the music videos and lots of other context to explain. The barrier to understanding WTF was going on at all was high enough that to know enough to explain, I had to be thoroughly exposed... And once I was over that hurdle, oops, I had a fandom.

--

In terms of old vs. new, here’s the thing: kpop fandoms in English and c-drama fandoms in English right now feel a lot like anime fandom in English did in the early 00s. I had a Buddy Cops of the 70s phase in the middle, but my current fannishness is actually a return to my older fannishness in many ways.

What do I mean about them being similar?

Yes, I know some wanker will show up to say I think China, Korea, and Japan are indistinguishable, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the way that I used to routinely meet Italian and French and German fans, Argentinian and Mexican, Malaysian and Indonesian and Filipino too. English-language fandom of SPN or MCU may have all those fans from all those countries, but it feels very American most of the time. English-language fandom of a non-English-language canon is more overtly about using English as a lingua franca.

It also tends to attract people who as a sideline to their fannishness are getting into language learning and translation, which are my other passion in life after fanworks fandom. (I speak only English and Spanish and a bit of Japanese, but I’ve studied German, French, Russian, Mandarin, Old English, and now Korean.)

Nerds arguing about methods of language learning and which textbooks are good and why is my jam. This is all over the place in English-language fandoms of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean media. Those fandoms also tend to be full of speakers coming from a Germanic or Romance languages background who face similar hurdles in learning these languages. (In other words, if you’re a native Japanese speaker trying to learn Korean, the parts that will be hard for you are different than if you’re an English speaker, but you’re also usually not doing fandom in English.)

There’s also an element of scarcity and difficulty of access and a communal attempt to construct a canon (in the other sense) of stuff from that country that pertains to one’s fannishness. So, for example, a primer explaining the genre of xianxia is highly relevant to being a n00b Untamed fan, but just any old thing about China is not. A c-drama adapted from a danmei webnovel is perhaps part of the new pantheon of Chinese shit we’re all getting into, but just any old drama from decades ago is probably not... unless it’s a genre precursor to something else we care about. Another aspect here is that while Stuff I Can Access As A N00b Who Doesn’t Speak The Language may be relatively scarce, there’s a vast, vast wealth of stuff that exists.

This is what it felt like to be an anime fan in the US in 2000. As translation got more commercial and more crappy series were licensed and dumped onto an already glutted market, the vibe changed. No longer were fans desperately trying to learn enough of the language to translate or spending their time cataloguing what existed or making fanworks about a show they stuck with for a bit: the overall community focus turned to an endless race of consumption to keep up with all of the latest releases. That’s a perfectly valid way of being fannish, but if I wanted that, I’d binge US television 24/7.

Anime fandom got bigger, but what I liked about anime fandom in English died, and I moved on. (Okay, I first moved on to Onmyouji, which is a live action Japanese thing, but still.)

Hardcore weeaboos and now fans of Chinese and Korean stuff don’t stop at language: people get excited about cooking, my other other great passion. Times a thousand if the canon is something like The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty, which is full of loving shots of food preparation. People get excited about history! Mandarin and Japanese may share almost nothing in terms of grammar or phonology, but all of East Asia has influence from specific Chinese power centers historically, and there are commonalities to historical architecture and clothing that I love.

I fell out of love with the popular anime art styles as they changed, and I’m not that into animation in general these days. (I still own a shitton of manga in art styles I like, like Okano Reiko’s Onmyouji series.) I’ve become a filmmaker over the last decade, and I’m very excited about beautiful cinematography and editing. With one thing and another, I’m probably not going to get back into anime fandom, but it’s lovely to revisit the cultural aspects I enjoyed about it via live-action media.

BTS surprised me too, to be honest. I really dislike that early 90s R&B ballad style that infests idol music (not just Korean--believe me, I resisted many rounds of “But Johnny’s Entertainment though!” back in the day). While I like some of the dance pop, I just don’t care. But OH NO, BTS turn out to be massive conscious hip hop fanboys, and their music sounds different. I have some tl;dr about my reactions in the meta I wrote about one of my fanvids, which you can find on Dreamwidth here.

--

But back to your comment about turnover: I know fans from the 70s who’ve had one great fannish love and that’s it and more who were like that but eventually moved on to a second or third. They’re... really fannishly monogamous in a way I find hard to comprehend. It was the norm long ago, but even by the 90s when far more people were getting into fandom, it was seen as a little weird. By now, with exponentially more people in fandom, it’s almost unheard of. I think those fans still exist, even as new people joining, but we don’t notice them. They were always rare, but in the past, only people like that had the stamina to get over the barriers to entry and actually become the people who made zines or were willing to be visibly into fanfic in eras when that was seen as really weird. On top of that, there’s an element of me, us, judging the past by what’s left: only people with an intense and often single passion are visible because other people either drifted away or have seamlessly disappeared into some modern fandom. They don’t say they’re 80 or 60 or 40 instead of 20, so nobody knows.

In general, I’m a small fandoms and rare ships person. My brain will do its best to thwart me by liking whatever has no fic even in a big fic fandom... (Except BTS because there is literally fic for any combination of them, like even more than for the likes of MCU. Wow. Best fandom evar!) So I have an incentive to not get complacent and just stick with one fandom because I would very soon have no ability to be in fandom at all.

My appetite for Consuming All The Things has slowed way down, but it also goes in waves, and a lot of what I’m consuming is what I did back in 2000: journal articles and the limited range of English-language books on the history of m/m sex and romance in East Asia. It’s not so much that I have a million fandoms as that I’m watching a few shows as an expression of my interest in East Asian costume dramas and East Asian history generally.

I do like to sit with one thing and experience it deeply rather than moving on quickly, but the surface expression of this has changed depending on whether I’m more into writing fic or more into doing research or something else.

But yes, I do do a certain amount of trying to stay current, often as a part of research for fandom meta or to help other people know what’s going on. Having a sense of what’s big doesn’t automatically mean getting into all those things, but I think some fans who are older-in-fandom and/or older-in-years stop being open to even hearing what’s new. And if you’ve never heard of it, you’ll never know if you might have liked it.

[five-miles-over]

Misery Loves Company (Clay Bidwell x Reader)

Summary: After leaving his hometown and all of its chaos, Clay Bidwell meets the reader at a strange bar and the two of them have a much-needed break from their troubles.

Word Count: 2,262

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death (allusions to suicide), and some references to the film Clay Pigeons

If there was one thing that Clay Bidwell could change, it would be his decision to trust Lester Long. I mean, what the hell was he thinking, trusting some new guy in town with a big old grin to keep him safe. That guy's self-appointed nickname said it all: Lester the Molester. What a son of a bitch. What a smiling, cheery, fucking son of a bitch.

He should've seen something wrong when Lester opened his mouth and laughed like a goddamn coyote. He should've seen something wrong when Lester kept a cheery spirit around a corpse floating around in a river. Who in their right mind wouldn't be freaked out by something so creepy? Clay himself vomited at the sight, way before he could even catch any of the stench from the rotting body.

Until his best friend Earl shot himself in front of Clay, he'd never even seen a dead person before. Even though he was from a town so small that everyone knew everyone else and their business, death was always something so…covert. It was a covered-up thing, something private. The family would have their little funeral, and next week the obituary would show up in the newspapers. No one ever really kept the casket open, and it was just assumed that the deceased were off to a better place.

It turned out Earl was just the first one in a morbid domino effect. Next, Clay's ex-girlfriend was shot dead…while she was fooling around with Clay. Finally, Earl's widow, who was fooling around with Clay before Earl died, was found dead in her own home.

And of course, Clay was found to be the common thread linking all of those murders. The cops tried to string together a bunch of bullshit and frame him - Clay fucking Bidwell - as some serial killer with women issues or something like that. He could still hear Agent Shelby interrogating him. "You're dating one victim, you're having an affair with another, and you find the body of the third. Kind of a coincidence, wouldn't you say?" The agents even came into his house one night and conducted some stupid raid for no reason. Right, they thought he had weapons. But hunting was a tradition in his hometown; almost every guy his age had at least one shot gun in their house, even if it was their dad's or uncle's.

So much for having faith in law enforcement to punish the guilty.

Thank goodness they finally came to their senses and went after Lester Long instead. Clay didn't remember much after watching the police cars chase after Lester. All he wanted to do at that time was leave. Leave this small town, and never look back.

So he did just that. As soon as the sirens began to quiet down, Clay jumped into his creaky pick-up truck, stepped on the gas and drove as far from town as possible. He didn't know where he was going, what direction, what road, or any of that shit. All he knew was that he was leaving the town that had nothing left for him anymore. He drove and drove for hours until the sun went down.

It was a long journey, and Clay found himself thanking his past self for leaving a few beers in the passenger seat. They were all empty by the time that twilight turned into night. Though, if Clay was being honest to himself, it probably wouldn't be enough alcohol for him to forget about spending a night in jail on false accusation, or erase all the death he'd seen.

With some of the money left in his glovebox, he pulled over at some gas station and filled up the tank. According to a sign on the road, he was about fifty miles from some city called Great Falls. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea, Clay thought to himself as he held the diesel nozzle, to try his luck in a big city. He heard stories about people having their own rags-to-riches story by leaving their small hometowns behind for busier places. And if nothing else, it'd be great to try and drive around the state just for the hell of it.

With a sigh, Clay watched as the meter reached its limit and the gasoline stopped flowing through the nozzle. The price wasn't all that bad for its mediocre quality, though it probably meant that Clay would have to sleep in his car tonight. It was hard to gauge the quality of the motels around this unfamiliar place, but he was sure that it would cost a lot more than whatever spare change Clay had left. Better to buy a drink, and get some sleep in the backseat, than to risk sleeping at some flea-infested room and wake up to a missing truck.

He parked the truck close to a neon sign - probably some saloon founded by a jaded business fellow - and walked inside. The place wasn't too crowded, with a few heads turning as soon as Clay walked in. Some of the guys were sitting around a table playing cards, and a lot of the customers seemed like they were regular patrons. Were they outlaws? Probably not. Based on the kinds of guys Clay saw in the saloon he used to go to, those guys drinking were probably just looking for an escape from their deadbeat jobs.

He almost smiled a little when he saw a pool table in the center, though it was strange to him that there was no one playing at the moment. Nevertheless, it reminded him of the good days when Earl and him would perfect their skills. By the time Clay turned nineteen, he was one of the best players in town. If he wasn't so blue right now, he'd be willing to show this new place a trick or two.

Clay looked out the window for a moment as he lit a cigarette. No cops in sight tonight? Good.

Taking a seat at the bar, he continued to people-watch until the bartender came up to him and asked for his order. Just as Clay told the bartender the kind of beer he wanted, you walked right inside and sat next to him.

While the bartender went behind to get the cold bottle, Clay looked you up and down, his lip curling upwards into a tiny boyish smirk. Maybe it was the after-effect of the alcohol from this afternoon, but you looked gorgeous to him…and almost a little mysterious, but also approachable. And you definitely looked nothing like the other customers in the saloon. Maybe you didn't come here often, or you were from another town, just like him.

"Hi."

"Oh…um, hi," Clay stammered, realizing you'd caught him staring. "Um…"

Taking control of the conversation, you introduced yourself to him and reached out to shake his hand. "How do you do?"

"I'm fine. You come here often?"

"Not like this." You shook your head and chuckled to yourself before ordering a drink for yourself. Clay sipped from his beer, listening to you tell him that you used to come here with a partner, on a Friday night after the two of you were done with work. "We had a lot of fun," you told him. "But things eventually just went south, we started fighting, and…I found them in bed with someone they'd been seeing on the side. So I packed my things and left…straight here. My stuff is literally sitting in my car right now."

"I'm sorry," you apologized casually, taking your drink. "I just met you. I don't even know your name and I'm already telling you about my break-up."

"It's fine," he replied with a crooked smile. "I'm Clay, by the way."

"So what brings you here, Clay?"

"Um…just, rough times. Needed to leave." He lied, not wanting to talk much about the things that really forced him here. "Sorry about your break-up. I know what it's like. It really sucks."

"To sucky lives and leaving shitty things behind." You toasted in a mock-celebratory tone, raising your drink and clinking it against his bottle. Clay's smile grew just a bit wider, and he even laughed a little.

The next hour felt like it passed by in the blink of an eye. Over the course of two beers (and who knows how many songs on the jukebox), Clay felt like he'd known you for years. Just by the way you talked about how you were almost done with school, and how much you hated your own little town just like he hated his…it was refreshing, to say the least. You seemed earnest, decent, and probably not tangled up in some kind of crime.

"Do you, by any chance, play?" He asked you after a bit of silence.

"Play what?"

"Um, pool." Clay pointed to the table at the center.

"No, never tried it before."

"I could…I could teach you if you like," he suggested. Now the beer was really taking his toll, making him want to show off a little for you.

"I'd love to learn."

You let him lead you towards the table, where the balls were already arranged for a new game. Clay was really friendly in teaching you the basics, on how to hold the pool stick (which was called a cue). He came up behind you, carefully guiding your hand to the right place on the stick and telling you to keep a good grip. Placing a hand over yours, Clay told you that a good shot involved getting the right angle. With another hand on your waist, he shifted you around nonchalantly so that you faced the right pockets of the table.

The alcohol was quite present in his breath while he spoke, but his voice…damn, you could listen to him talk all night. It was nice that you could get him out of his shell by agreeing to learn. And the way his hands felt on you was pretty nice. Eventually, you were able to make a few combination shots, and Clay was pleased.

"Damn, you're a fast learner."

"Thanks. You're a good teacher."

"Put enough quarters on a table like this one, I sure as hell have to be a pro." Clay bragged a little before the two of you laughed.

Suddenly, you put the stick down and walked closer to him with a smirk, not sure about what had gotten into you. "I…uh, I like the way you put your hands on me," you confessed in a whisper.

Catching your tone, he leaned against the table with a raised eyebrow "You did?"

You gave him a nod and mimicked his posture, leaning against the table as well. "I kinda like you, Clay."

"Yeah…I like you too." He goofily admitted, saying your name like it was something absolutely precious.

Making the first move, you gently pecked him on the cheek and ran your fingers through his messy, dark brown hair. A naughty glint in his green eyes, he took your gesture as encouragement…for something he'd shamelessly thought about since he led you over to the pool table. Boldly wrapping his arms around you, he crashed his lips into yours.

You moaned a little, surprised by how dizzying his kiss felt. "Take this…somewhere else?"

"Fuck, yeah."

The two of you made your way over to a slightly more private booth in the saloon, not wasting any time and continuing your make-out session. Clay didn't hesitate to pin you against the wall, bringing your leg up to get closer to you. Soon, his kisses grew sloppier and hungrier, covering your jawline and your neck. Right now, everything else seemed pretty much like a blur to him.

Kissing him back and lightly tugging at his hair, you painfully gasped his name the moment he got a bit too carried away and sucked at your collarbone. That was definitely going to leave a mark for the next morning…but it was totally worth it.

"Stop," you panted, breaking your lips away from his when you both needed air. "That was…that was...wow."

"Yeah, it really was." Clay agreed, his fingers still brushing your thigh. "You're really pretty. Like movie pretty."

"Maybe you're pretty drunk," you retorted. "A cute, pretty drunk who happens to be great at teaching pool."

"Maybe I'm drunk on you."

"What a line." Giggling, you smoothed your hair before going back to the bar, placing some change for the drink you had.

"You leaving already?" Clay followed you with a surprised and crestfallen expression.

You told him it was almost closing time, pointing out how empty the saloon had gotten since you arrived. "I'll tell you what, Clay." Taking a a pen lying around, you wrote your phone number on a napkin and handed it to him. "It's actually my friend's number, but they'll take a message. Besides, that's where I'm heading to stay until I can find my own place."

"That sounds great. I'll, uh, see you around."

"See you around. Thanks for a great night, Clay." You smiled, leaving him with one last kiss before walking out.

Clay took a long look at the napkin before folding it up and keeping it in his jeans pocket. Throwing some of his change on the bar, he left the bar and sat down in his truck. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on the wheel and hoped he'd be sober enough to drive again tomorrow.

[trashmancer]

Again, been reading a lot recently, and here's some recent reads and my thoughts. (All very spoiler-free)

Johannes Cabal: The Necromancer by Jonathan L. Howard

I'd heard about this series for a while, but had always kept putting off reading it, and finally I was in the mood for some comedic (yet dark) shenanigans--and a villain protagonist as charming as Johannes Cabal really hit me just right. I really enjoyed the first of this series and the introduction to this 1920's-ish universe similar-yet-different to our own that Howard's created. His writing is crisp and clever--and Johannes is a villain protagonist worth cheering for. He's duplicitous, arrogant, and cold, yet sharp-witted and competent enough to be engaging, and even though he's amoral (driven predominately with an "ends do justify the means" mentality) there are glimmers of a conscious buried in there.

The basic gist of the first book is that Johannes Cabal is a necromancer dead-set (ba-dum-sh) on thwarting the biggest plague affecting mankind: Death. As such, he's willing to go to extreme lengths to hone and perfect his necromantic abilities. In the pursuit of this knowledge, Cabal sold his soul to Satan, but he comes to realize he actually needs his soul for his necromancy to work more properly (apparently without a soul it gets very unpredictable). In order to win his soul back, he strikes a wager with Satan: he will accumulate 100 souls for Satan in return for his own. Satan, ever the fair player (not), gifts Cabal with an infernal carnival to help Cabal reach his goal within the year. Shenanigans ensue.

While I read some books in-between this one and the next in the series, I'll write about the other here--

Johannes Cabal: The Detective by Jonathan L. Howard

So clearly I enjoyed the first installment enough to keep going, and I am glad, because I enjoyed the second one even more than the first. It feels like Howard got more comfortable with the characters and world than before, and in this one he expands his universe with some made-up countries that are similar-to-yet-different than countries on our Earth. In this one, Cabal does less fantastic tricks, as he dons the role of investigator (there's been a murder--on an airship!), but the plot was very fun. I will say this is one of the first books in a long while to genuinely make my world-weary ass laugh out loud in public. Howard truly does know how to turn a phrase and comes off with some great witticisms.

Guns of the Dawn by Adrian Tchaikovsky

Tchaikovsky has been on my radar for a while because I have had Children of Time on my reading list for what feels like an age (and I still haven't gotten around to reading it, but I will soon). To prime myself, I looked up other works by Tchaikovsky. This was around the time I was look for good "stand-alone" Adult Fantasy novels as well, so the two linked up and I had this on my TBR for a while and got around to finally cracking it open.

I really loved this book. If I could describe it in any way, it would be sort of like Pride & Prejudice if Elizabeth Bennet got drafted into a war. Seriously. That's how it reads--and Tchaikovsky made the allusions to Austen's work very clear. The setting is very English-inspired, and the time period mimics Napoleonic times. Definitely the first "Flintlock Fantasy" I've had the pleasure of reading.

The themes of the book are about the caustic nature of nationalism, the blurring of truth during war, and what is true patriotism in the face of falsehood and horror. Definitely my kind of questions--and I love watching characters thrown into completely unfamiliar environments. A genteel woman (Emily Marshwic) being tossed headfirst into grisly, mosquito-infested swamps armed with a musket? It's a fascinating journey she undergoes.

Plus the novel featured a romantic subplot that hits my enemies-to-lovers buttons hard. (It's not at all like one of those tired YA enemies-to-lovers stories, but something more grown-up and messy, which I approve of, because I love drama.) But this is more of a personal note. It's definitely not going to be for everyone.

Retribution Falls (Tales of the Ketty Jay #1) by Chris Wooding

After Johannes Cabal, I got into the mood for some steampunk, and I hadn't actually read much in the way of steampunk, so I looked up some recs and the Tales of the Ketty Jay series seemed to appear on a lot of lists for this kinda thing. The basic gist of this one is... imagine steampunk Firefly. That kinda gives you the whole vibe and feel. It's about a crew of disparate and colorful characters all running from something who meet on the ship the Ketty Jay and have to learn to work together to survive.

Overall, it was a fast-paced read (I read this 400 page sucker in a single day--while doing other stuff) and Wooding knows how to write action and interesting character interactions. The world had some glimmers of brilliance (the wizard analogs in their world--daemonist--were the most intriguing part), but otherwise it was very typical steampunk. I had no real quibbles with any of that (aside from the fact some of it read as very cliche and Wooding's inspirations seemed a little obvious--Fullmetal Alchemist and Firefly being the two big ones that kept hammering me over the head), but my main complaint was with the writing and treatment of female characters. First, there is only one main female character in the Ketty Jay's crew--Jez. I had no real issues with Jez's character or writing (in fact she's refreshing in some ways), but she's completely isolated from any other female characters (and is also the only crew member who isn't really allowed to be a complete screw up--she's somewhat sanitized, which, I guess the heroic women characters aren't allowed to be fuck ups like the men?). Second, the other predominate female characters, of whom there are only three, are mute/dehumanized (Bess), characterized as stupid and unhinged (Amalicia), and have rape-as-a-backstory-written-TERRIBLY (Trinica). All that said, as much as it was cringe, this was written in 2009, and I am sure Wooding has had some growth as a writer since then.

I liked this one enough to decide to check out the next in the series (even knowing the writing for the female characters leaves much to be desired).

Black Sun by Rebecca Roanhorse

A Fantasy taking place in an Americas-inspired world? Absolutely refreshing (and more please). The main gist of this one is that a cult sets out to resurrect a dead god (seriously that's the main plot crux) while political machinations are going on in the central city of this country where the resurrection is going to take place. As the novel progresses, it's like a countdown clock to game time. There's four POV characters we follow: Xiala (a Teek sea captain who is kind of an outcast from her native people and has a love for beautiful people), Serapio (the man who has been groomed since birth to be the vessel for the resurrected god, part of this process has included blinding him), Naranpa (the Sun Priest of the capital city who is trying to garner back control the priesthood has lost), and Okoa (who really doesn't even appear until way later into the book; he's been separated from his family to train to be a warrior). For the most part, I was primarily engaged (re: 90% engaged) with Xiala and Serapio's story. They were the most interesting characters, and the journey of them on the sea trying to get to the city before the ceremony was exciting and emotional. The political dealings in Naranpa's segments kind of bogged down the action--and I didn't feel anything for that. Overall though, definitely a thrilling read with a beautifully constructed world. If I had one big criticism, it's that it ended incredibly abruptly without any resolution. I knew going in this was a part of a greater whole, but I still felt the ends could've been knotted a little tighter. I'm left dangling! But I'll be sure to pick up the next one (if anything just to find out what happens to Xiala and Serapio).

Vicious by V.E. Schwab

As an unapologetic villainfucker, I had to read this one, right? It's about not just one, but two villains! How could I lose? And they're in an intense rivalry? Revenge? Betrayal? Superpowers? Gah! Be still my heart!

I'll say I enjoyed this book (fun characters, solid writing), but I didn't love it as much as I thought I would (I wish I could love yooouuuu!). Definitely worth a recommendation to anyone who loves villains and fast-paced narratives, but... there were a few things that tarnished what could've been sparkling. The biggest for me was the jumping around in the first half. For a length of time, the novel leaps between three different points of time, sometimes 2-3 pages at a time, and it was jarring (not confusing, mind you, but it was a jolt each time). I get it was done to create an air of mystique and intrigue, but it felt like I was getting dragged around by the ear. Along with this, the plot just seemed... very convenient? As various moments kept happening, it all felt too tidy and paint-by-numbers. The characters were certainly messy and fun (and I love messy and fun), but the action itself seemed to glide on well-oiled rails with no hiccups. This did lead to the magnetic pacing of the book (which I also read in a day), but it didn't do the drama any favors. Never once did it feel like the characters were caught with their pants down--and I think that's part of the point, but it kind of dampened the tension.

I liked it enough I am definitely going to check out the sequel Vengeful though. If anything I am reading for Sydney, Mitch, and Victor. I gotta know what happens to them!

--

Right now I am reading some fluffy fluff to cleanse my palette because I've been reading so much moodiness. I'm mid-way through the light and breezy Half a Soul by Olivia Atwater (and it's super cute so far) and then I am finally going to crack open Andy Weir's The Martian (because I have put off reading it for far too long).

[spicycreativity]

Howl - Ch 2

Chapter: 2/10

Add'l Notes: As usual, fic is like 6 chapters ahead on my AO3, WizardGlick

Chapter Content Warnings: N/A, ask to tag

Trying a new thing where I force you to read the first paragraph by not including it under the cut 😇

--

Virgil slept soundly and woke up unharmed in his bed. The relative cold of the morning air bit into his face, the only part of him that wasn't buried under his duvet. Still laying down, he wriggled into his hoodie and got up to make coffee. He mentally checked himself over while he waited for it to brew, staring blankly at the French press with stinging eyes. Damn, he must not have gotten all his vampire makeup off. Ah, well. His own absentmindedness was not a curse. Maybe he had escaped unscathed. Nothing hurt, save a normal soreness in his legs from standing around watching the Halloween parade, and a quick look in one of the many ornate mirrors decorating his walls revealed nothing abnormal with his face (well, except for the smudgy remnants of last night's eyeliner).

Despite this reassuring examination, he still spent the morning jumping at shadows. He rode his moped extra slowly and took time adjusting the straps of his helmet to make sure it fit perfectly. He examined the hanging sign ("Mystick Earth: ephemera for all ages") outside his workplace to make sure it wouldn't fall and kill him. He even took high steps on his way to the register to make sure he wouldn't trip over anything unseen.

But nothing bad happened.

In fact, nothing much happened at all until just past noon, when the brass bells on the door jangled and Logan stepped in, wafting the smell of warm bread and something sweet in with him.

Virgil didn't even realize he was smiling until his cheeks began to ache. "Hi," he said.

"Hello, Virgil." Logan wasn't looking at him; he was focusing on the paper bag hooked around one wrist and the drink carrier balanced in his other arm. "Forgive me for not asking first, but I wanted to surprise you."

"Here, you can set that on the counter." Virgil already knew what Logan had brought: banh mi, pho, and bubble tea from Sunrise, Virgil's favorite café.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Virgil pressed his hands on the counter and levered himself up to give Logan a kiss. He had always known that Logan was courteous and sweet under that somewhat stiff exterior; this wasn't even the first time he had done something kind for Virgil out of nowhere. But Virgil never could get used to being doted on. "Thank you, Logan."

Logan dropped his gaze, one hand coming up to fidget with his tie. "You're quite welcome."

The bells chimed again. Virgil looked up and caught sight of Roman, who had frozen in place. Catching Virgil's gaze, he straightened as though offended. "Well," he said, "I just came by to make sure Count Virgila survived the night, but it looks as though Casanova here beat me to the punch."

Logan turned. "Roman. I hope you've already eaten, because I only brought enough food for two people."

"I can take a hint," Roman said. Virgil raised his eyebrows at him expectantly, but Roman only raised his own eyebrows back, strode over to the counter, and stole a sip of Virgil's milk tea.

"I thought you said you could take a hint," Virgil said.

"I can," Roman said, "but I'm choosing not to."

Logan sighed through his nose and passed Virgil his sandwich. "I see no need to insist upon politeness if Roman is not going to return the favor."

Roman bumped Logan with his hip. "Really, I just came by to make sure Virgil's okay "

The bells jangled. Virgil looked up again, half-surprised and half-annoyed to see Janus, clad in the extravagant tailcoat he had to wear for work, pretending rather transparently to examine the display of tarot card-themed posters by the door. "Hi, Janus," he said, making no effort to hide his annoyance. Maybe this was the curse, to never get any alone time with Logan.

"Let me guess," said Roman, "you're here to check on Virgil."

"Of course not," Janus said, now pawing through the discount t-shirt display. Ugh, Virgil had just finished re-folding those. "Virgil's a big boy; he knows how to handle himself."

"Oh, yeah?" Virgil raised an eyebrow. "For all the money in the register, tell me what you came to buy and what you plan to use it for."

For the brief moment that Janus hesitated, Virgil allowed himself to hope that he had gotten one over on Janus. In all their years of friendship, he had admitted to being wrong exactly once. Virgil kept the date saved in his phone calendar and made sure to send Janus a card on the anniversary. But a moment's hesitation was all the satisfaction he got this time; Janus faced him properly, adjusted his tie, and said, "I don't know. I'm looking for a gift for Remus."

"Nice save," Virgil said. "We'll see about that."

"Oh, I don't know why you bother trying to hide it." Roman beckoned Janus over to the counter. "Look with your own eyes: he's fine."

"I combined like five different rituals last night," Virgil said. "And I'm doing another one once I get off work." He had already paid for the bottle and the string, knowing he had a hand trowel somewhere in the depths of his spider-infested shed.

Roman quick-drew his phone from his pocket and had himself posed for a selfie with Virgil almost before Virgil could process what was happening. "Smile," he said. "Patton made me promise I'd send him a picture."

Virgil flashed a peace sign. It was better to just go with it. Despite his bravado, Roman got his feelings hurt easily, and it was never fun to try to bounce back from that. "Are we done now?"

"Pardon us for caring about you," Roman said, sticking his nose into the air. It was such a Remus thing to do that Virgil nearly laughed, but he managed to hold himself together.

"Yeah, yeah, my friends love and cherish me, blah, blah, blah."

"Also," Roman read from his phone, "Patton says to tell Janus to come over soon so they can make cutting boards together."

"He was serious about that?" Janus looked helplessly at Virgil. Ah, yes, Patton had made the invitation last night and Janus, leaning back on social niceties, had agreed. "I thought he was just being nice."

"Nope." Virgil leaned forward across the counter and grinned. "Not only is Patton gonna make you make yourself a cutting board, you're going to enjoy it."

"We'll see about that," Janus said. He shook up his sleeve so he could glance at his watch. "Well, I should get back to Bienvenue. Those suits won't sell themselves."

He turned on his heel and made for the door so quickly that Virgil knew he was forgetting something. Ding. "Wait, but weren't you going to buy something for Remus?" he called.

"Sorry," said Janus, one hand already on the door. "Can't hear you, bye." And he was gone.

Roman bounced on his toes. "Alright, alright, I'll leave you two to it, too."

"Thank you kindly," Virgil said, metering the sardonic bite in his tone so that Roman wouldn't get offended.

Roman tipped an imaginary hat first to Virgil, then to Logan, and sauntered out.

"Finally," Virgil sighed. He looked up to find Logan staring at him with evident concern. "What?"

"Are you alright?" Logan asked. "I know you take this kind of thing seriously and I would hate for you to feel like I'm not supporting you just because I don't share your belief."

Virgil couldn't help but smile as an unfamiliar feeling spread from his stomach to his chest. Ah, the warm fuzzies. He couldn't even be mad about the damage to his dark and brooding image. "I'm okay, Lo. I did my stuff."

Logan smiled back: a small, shy thing. "I'm glad."

They were quiet for a moment. Virgil took small bites of his banh mi, careful to keep one eye on the door. It had been an unusually slow day, especially given that it was the day after Halloween. The denizens of Vaillant were superstitious enough that Virgil was rarely idle behind the counter of Mystick Earth. A few groups of people paused by the door, some even going so far as to peer in through the glass storefront windows, but no one came in. Virgil relaxed a little. "How's work? Catch anyone embezzling?"

"Not yet," Logan said, pushing his sleeves further up his elbows. Virgil tried not to stare at the few additional centimeters of skin this action exposed. What was he, a repressed Victorian? "I did notice a discrepancy in the amount we spent on office supplies, but it was only because someone had miswritten a 'seven' as a 'two.'"

"No office drama?" Virgil ribbed him. "Nobody stealing pens or making out in supply closets?"

"Unfortunately, we are a building of professionals." Logan paused, straightened his tie. "The light above my cubicle went out and I had to put in an email to maintenance to get it fixed."

"Man, I could never work in an office," Virgil said.

"Did anything interesting happen to you this morning?"

"Eh, I had someone looking to curse an ex, and I had to explain why that's not acceptable. I won't bore you with the details." Virgil took another bite of his sandwich and bounced the toe of his shoe against the floor. Was he doing this right? It had been so long since his last real relationship, and everyone knew what a disaster that had been. He liked Logan, liked being with Logan, but… Well, maybe he was freaking out over nothing. He just had to remember how to do it right, and then everything would be okay.

"Ordinarily, I would challenge the notion that you could ever bore me," Logan said, "but I do have to leave soon."

"Finish your pho," Virgil said, smiling. "I can tell you later."

They finished eating and Virgil again leaned up to give Logan a kiss, balancing his weight on his hands. His heart wasn't in it, his brain a few seconds ahead. Should he come over the counter and walk Logan to the door? What should he say? ‘I love you’? Should he grab Logan's ass?

"Did you hear me?" Logan asked.

Virgil feet hit the floor, the impact driving tingles up to his knees. "Huh?"

"Just saying goodbye," Logan said.

"See you soon?"

"Let's make plans."

Logan left. Virgil stared at the door for a while, happiness ebbing away into loneliness and doubt. A small, childish part of him wanted to insist that Logan stay. Forget work. They could go to the movies and get ice cream, have a proper date. And Virgil would find some way to communicate just how much he appreciated Logan.

--

Virgil: Thanks for lunch, Lo

Logan: You're welcome

Logan: <3

Virgil hadn't gathered up the guts to respond to Logan's text message yet. It was really pathetic, how a single emoticon heart had him blushing and panicking like a teenager.

He swung one leg over his moped, but kept his weight mostly on the ground. Hating the way his heart pounded, he pulled out his phone.

Logan: <3

Virgil: <3

Before he could freak himself out any further, Virgil got on his moped properly and nearly peeled out of his parking spot. He rode home in silence, shivering a little in the wind chill and dodging potholes.

The sinking sun lit up the thunderheads on the horizon until the whole sky on Virgil's left was blue-gray and luminescent. He stared, admiring the bald cypress and tupelo trees silhouetted against the dying light, until the road turned and faced him toward the darkness. By the time he got home, it was full dark. He parked his moped in the carport and settled in for a lonely evening of curse-breaking.

Virgil wasn't usually lonely. As an introvert with several boisterous extroverts in his friend circle, he usually jumped at the chance for some alone time. But suddenly Logan's absence felt like loss in a way it never had before, and Virgil longed to have him near. Even if he just sat quietly and watched while Virgil put his own spin on constructing a witch bottle.

He went to bed early that night, earlier than usual, unable to stand the emptiness of his old house. Even the creaks and groans, even the ambient sounds of outside, even the ticking of his mantle clock, seemed to fade away into intolerable lonely silence. So Virgil crawled into bed before midnight, clutching his hoodie to his chest.

He didn't sleep well.

Strange visions haunted his dreams, almost primal in their intensity. He was rage, he was fear, he was power. He knew the earth beneath his feet, knew the deep, rich smells of the forest. He knew the moon above. It was bright but waning, pale silver struggling through the clouds that smelled of rain. So unlike Virgil, whose strength was eternal and agonizing and all. He howled.

He woke up all at once, all his senses alight. Even without opening his eyes, it was obvious: He was outside. Not only that, he was naked in the dirt.

He opened his eyes and rolled over, sitting up slowly to examine himself. Clammy soil clung to his exposed skin. He brushed it off with a shaking hand. His nails were stained with it too, all muddy and broken. And he was sore, almost as bad as the time he'd try to go jogging with Logan.

Virgil let the panic wash over him and pulled his legs in close to his chest, wrapped his arms around them. Wrong, wrong, wrong, he had nothing, knew nothing and he was all alone in the woods.

He crested the worst of the attack and clenched his trembling hands into fists, resentful of the adrenaline still ruling him. At least he seemed unharmed; his skin was free of bruises and scratches. He was just dirty. He raised a shaking hand to his left ear, feeling along the back of it for any strange marks. Finding nothing, he checked his right ear. The skin seemed wholly undisturbed, but he would see about that later. Right now, he had more pressing things to worry about than potential alien abduction. For one, there was the matter of his clothes… He got to his feet, covering his groin with his hands despite the solitude. All that surrounded him were the early-morning birdsong and the rustle of the wind in the leaves.

Spinning in a circle, Virgil found a place where branches had been broken and the underbrush had been thoroughly trampled by something much, much bigger than he. With no other leads, he steeled himself and followed the trail. It was difficult going. He had to keep his head down to make sure he didn’t step on anything sharp, and his heartbeat remained sharp and painful and panicked, beating out what-ifs beneath his skin. What if he couldn’t find his way home? What if he got arrested for public nudity? What if he tripped and broke his leg and got stranded? What if something attacked him?

The morning breeze picked up and made him shiver, drawing him out of his panicked thoughts. He just needed to keep walking. He might not even have been that far from home. He lived on the edge of the woods, so it made sense that he was within walking distance of home, right? Well, maybe not, but the belief was all he had. So he believed that he was close to home, believed that he would be fine, and continued to tread the path of destruction through the woods.

He was closer than he’d thought. Soon, the sound of tires over asphalt reached his ears and he picked up the pace. Crossing the road was a nerve-wracking endeavor, not least because the speed limit was 55 mph. He hadn’t seen any of his clothes on the trek. What would people say if they caught him darting naked across the road like some kind of feral mountain man? Traffic was sparse, it was true, but with Virgil’s luck, a pickup full of country boys would plow into him and leave him in the ditch. What a pleasant thought for a Friday morning. Pushing his fear aside, Virgil sprinted across the road as fast as his abused feet and sore muscles would let him. The trail of trampled bushes and broken branches led directly to his house, as he had feared it might, and the destruction didn’t stop there. His front door was open, bugs buzzing around the light over his kitchen sink. Several of his end tables had been knocked over and various trinkets from his many floating shelves littered the floor. His ceramic incense holder lay in pieces by the magazine rack filled with his collection of old tabloids-- the tabloids were okay, thank goodness.

“Hello?” Virgil called. No one answered, and the house was silent. He crept into the bedroom. Ah, there were his clothes. The t-shirt he slept in had split at the seams and his boxers hadn’t fared much better. At least his hoodie was okay. He pulled it on and slipped into a new pair of boxers, exhaustion finally catching up with him. He needed to deal with this, like, really needed to deal with this, but his bed…

He face-planted into it, not even bothering to straighten out or pull his legs onto the mattress. Sleep now, unpack terrifying potential supernatural encounter later.

[sternbagel]

Inspired by the wonderful OC lore that @charlotte-balfours-garden​ wrote and posted, I decided to finish this piece that’s been sitting in my drafts for months about my own RDR OC, visual references here!

Note: This takes place in canon, Chapter 3, and while everyone calls her Alberta Taylor at this point, it’s not her real name, just something she’s been going by for years because of something in her past. Professionally, she’s a bounty hunter, but has dabbled in other things. 

Read This First

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, at least the one thing today that hasn’t been surprising is Arthur finding Al has dragged a chair over to his tent to read, one leg propped up on the chest at the end of his cot. Sometimes she’ll set up there to get ample shade from the sun, and according to her, the chest is the perfect foot rest height. 

“Afternoon, Arthur,” she greets lazily as she turns the page.

“Miss Taylor. Comfortable?”

“Sure.” She cuts her eyes up at him from under the brim of her hat, seemingly just to give him a greeting glance and smile, but when she spots the shiny new accessory pinned to his vest, her head raises higher. “You steal that off a dead lawman or somethin’?”

And it begins, Arthur thinks with a snort. “No, Dutch—” he waves an arm in the direction he came from, though Dutch has long ago left that area—“got us ingratiated with the local sheriff, so now we’re honorary deputies.”

“Was Sheriff Gray drunk?” 

That’s surprising. They only met the sheriff yesterday, and he’s not sure the full story of their encounter has been relayed to the rest of camp, just the orders not to cause any trouble. “How’d you know his name?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he realizes that most likely, it was Hosea. Those two are close. 

She answers with a cavalier shrug before he can say anything. “I’ve been here before. Once. Didn’t stay long.”

Arthur takes the bait she leaves out. “Why not?”

“Well, it’s Lemoyne. I don’t spend very long here if I can help it. But first time I got to Rhodes lookin’ for bounty posters, Sheriff Gray was puking in the bushes. Somehow he managed to get out that they do all the bounty hunting themselves. No reason to go back.”

“Well, that’s pretty much how I found him when I went lookin’ for Dutch and Bill.”

“Figures,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Not that I really care, but where is Bill? Didn’t see him come back with y’all. Still with the Sheriff, ingratiating himself?” She looks thoughtful for a moment. “I didn’t get that impression off him, but I wasn—”

Arthur holds up a hand and shakes his own head with a smirk. “No, no, the Grays around here don’t seem… his type. Matter of fact, I should probably warn Bill to just play it cool—“

“What, drunk, dumb, and ignorant ain’t Bill’s type? What about that guy we saw him chattin’ up at that saloon in Armadillo?”

“That ain’t what I mean,” he snorts.

“I know.” Al flashes a playful smirk. “I’m just messin’.”

“Well, anyway, no, he’s off hidin’ some wagon full o’ moonshine we stole off some bootleggers under the Sheriff’s orders. Hosea’ll know what to do with it.”

“Moonshine?” This seems to pique her interest, again to Arthur’s surprise. “You know who you stole it off of?”

“Yes…” Arthur’s eyebrows knit together. He slowly lumbers over to his table, laying down the deputy badge and watching her carefully. Al’s expression is calm, but it’s a thin enough veneer that he sees the curiosity building by the second. “What’s it to you?”

“Curious.”

“Yeah.”

The book in her lap finally closes. “I used to run with some moonshiners not too long ago.”

“Alberta Taylor. Well, I never took you for a bootlegger.”

She throws an arm over the back of her chair and lets her head fall back, exposing more of her neck. It’s then that Arthur notices she’s not wearing her usual green neckerchief. Or her green jacket. She must be really burning up to be in just her workshirt and jeans. “Not every professional bounty hunter is a staunch upholder of the law, Arthur Morgan,” she says matter-of-factly with a lift of her brow.

“I never said that. Didn’t mean it neither. I mean, look who you fell in with, I know better. I just ain’t seen you drink much moonshine.”

“Sure. Always been more of a beer and tequila woman.”

He plops down on his cot and lights a cigarette. “Then what you doin’ runnin’ with moonshiners?”

“Tell me who you stole the liquor off of first, cowboy.”

Arthur concedes. Al is stubborn. “The Braithwaites. And those fellers that run around here with those yellow bandanas. Sadie and I ran into ‘em a few days ago. Uh—”

“Lemoyne Raiders?” She sneers. “I’d hoped someone had snuffed ‘em out by now. Hijo de putas.”

He takes a long drag of the cigarette before answering. “Yeah, that’s them. You’ve had some run-ins with ‘em, huh?”

“Like I said, just the once. Three of them stopped me on my way into Rhodes. Brought ‘em into town, dead, which is when I met Sheriff Gray. They didn’t have any bounties on ‘em, so all I got outta one of his deputies was five dollars. I know they weren’t even worth that much, but he coulda paid me more,” she grumbles. Her light Cuban accent comes out more the lower her voice goes.

“Sounds about right. Least ya got paid somethin’.”

“I guess.” She picks at the spine of her book for a moment. “Wasn’t long after that I met a… moonshiner legend, so to say, through a mutual friend. Though friend seems to be pushing it.”

He gets the sense she’s not fully sour on the “friend,” so his shoulders shake in amusement. 

“He was a lot like Uncle, actually.”

“Lord.” Arthur snickers, smoke billowing out of his mouth. 

“Yeah. Not as lazy. Probably younger, but who knows.”

“I reckon Uncle ain’t as old as he wants folks to think. Besides just bein’ too lazy, it’s probably why he don’t trim his beard.”

Al laughs, rougher than usual until she coughs and clears it up. “Damn humidity.”

“Tell me about it,” Arthur agrees, leaning forward and propping one elbow up on his knee. “So, this… moonshiner legend.”

“Ever heard the name Maggie Fike?”

The name isn’t familiar, but it isn’t unfamiliar either. “Don’t think so,” he settles on. 

“Well, she’s been mostly out this way rather than out where y’all been running around. Revenue Agents caught up to her a couple years back, tried burning her alive. Didn’t work, but gave her a nasty scar and bad eye. Almost puts Marston to shame. Almost,” she adds with a grin as he walks between Arthur and Strauss’ tents.

“Take a look in the mirror, Miss Taylor,” he grumbles back. Then he chucks a cigarette butt at a chuckling Arthur. “You too, Morgan.”

John disappears around the side of the tent as Arthur brushes off the butt. “Cranky cause he ain’t had his midday nap.”

“Pick better material.”

Al chuckles and presses the palm of her hand on her hat, affixing it more securely to her head. “Anyway…”

“Anyway…” Arthur sighs lightly. “You said she survived?”

“Yeah, went into hiding for a while. Somehow got a hold of my ‘friend’, who then asked me for help gettin’ her business back on its feet. Easy work at first. Finding a good location for the shack, gettin’ her some supplies, that stuff.” She waves a hand around. “Most folks don’t pay much mind to a bounty hunter buyin’ supplies in bulk like I was or destroying illegal stills. Sometimes I brought in the other moonshiners to the local town to collect on a bounty. Made for a better cover for what I was really doing.”

“Takin’ out the competition.” Arthur chuckles. 

“Exactly. Then came—”

“What the hell are you two talkin’ about anyway?”

Al puts her hand back on her hat before tipping her head back, almost touching the back of the chair, and looks at John, upside down. Arthur leans forward more to get his own look and the rangy outlaw, who’s circled back around to the other side of his wagon. 

“And what the hell is that?” John asks. He’s looking directly at the badge on Arthur’s table, disgust etched into his features. As if it’s some rotting, maggot infested carcass Arthur’s using for decoration.

Arthur sighs and briefly explains again.

“So this is just another excuse for you to play dress-up, eh? Guess I need to tell Hosea you’re itchin’ to go scammin’ with him again.”

“You do that, it’ll be your pecker in the stew pot next meal.”

Al’s crossed her arms over her chest and is watching them with barely contained amusement. “Playing dress-up? I don’t think I’ve seen that side of you yet, Arthur.”

“And you won’t,” he growls. “Only reason Hosea takes me on those jobs is because he knows I hate it. Just once I’d like him to take Marston instead.”

“You sure about that?” Al studies John as if she’s a talent agent in the big city. “Doesn’t he like to avoid mayhem on those jobs?”

John snorts indignantly. “Yeah, well, I’d like to see you try and follow Hosea’s lead. I swear even he don’t know what he’s doin’ half the time.”

“But it works.” Her eyebrows raise pointedly. 

“But it works,” John concedes. 

“Well, next time you go, let me know. I’d love to watch y’all work.”

“Whatever,” John grumbles as he waves her off and saunters away. Apparently he’s given up on butting into their conversation.

“I ain’t pullin’ that type of job with Hosea again. What we had set up in Blackwater, sure, but not...” Arthur wags a finger in the air, then unfurls the rest of his fingers and waves his hand once before letting it fall back in his lap. “Not that. The girls and Trelawny are much better’n me anyway. Safer that way.”

Al shrugs. “I won’t argue that.”

“So, back to what you was sayin’?” Arthur’s not willing to let the moonshiner story drop. It’s not often she lets down her walls and tells stories of her past that don’t directly involve some bounty she’s nabbed. He knows what happened to her family, but that had been a moment he wasn’t meant to see, and neither of them have ever brought it up again.

“So after we get a shack set up, she gets word of where this old buddy of hers is, go rescue him so he can make our moonshine. Not long after that, her nephew’s gettin’ moved from Sisika, so I go rescue him.”

Arthur pulls the cigarette from his lips and folds his arms across his chest, leaning back against the wagon. “Just you against a bunch of lawmen?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Morgan,” she drawls, lolling her head to the side.

“Suppose I shouldn’t be,” he chuckles.

“No, actually, I had a couple friends with me, cashed in on some favors. I’m not stupid or reckless enough to take on an armed prison transport.”

Arthur just shrugs. “Woulda believed you either way.”

“You’re too trusting,” she remarks. There’s a teasing lilt to her voice, but her eyes sparkle with something else. 

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“Well, we bring them back to the shack, get the business up and running. Enact some revenge on a rival of hers in the meantime, I get to kill the agent who tried to burn her. Spent about a year with them. I didn’t do a lot of the actual running of moonshine, one of those friends who helped me break out Maggie’s nephew, Lem, did most of that. I focused on taking out the competition, clearing out Revenue Agent roadblocks when we were sure we couldn’t sneak past them. The real dirty work. But I didn’t mind, kept me moving, out of the government’s crosshairs enough that I could keep killin’ those damn agents.”

Arthur cocks his head curiously. But she isn’t done talking, so he lets her continue, holding onto his question for now.

“Couple months before I ran into y’all, I told them I’d have to leave. I’d spent so much time in this area, couldn’t… Needed to get out and go back out west. See some old friends, see some open country. They reckoned they’d be fine without me, but threw them the name of another friend I knew’d be able to help them, pick up my slack.”

“So… you think they’re still runnin’ that shine?”

“No reason not to. Never heard anything about her being captured. Got a letter from them while I was in Blackwater, actually. They’re doin’ well.” She gives a fond, reminiscent smile. “That friend is working with Maggie now, too. Dunno how she stands him, but…”

“Good. Since we’re over this way, you plannin’ on seein’ ‘em?”

“They’re north, Roanoke Ridge territory. Might, if I feel safe leavin’ you fools by yourself for more than a week.”

Arthur chuckles and shakes his head. “I reckon we can survive without ya for that long.”

“With all the trouble you been causing lately? I don’t think so, Mr. Morgan.” Al fans herself with her book, smirking at Arthur pointedly.

“I actually got another question for ya,” he diverts.

“Shoot.”

“I been thinkin’ about this since you got here, but now, knowin’ how much you seem to hate the Revenue Agents, how come you’re a bounty hunter, takin’ payouts from the government, but runnin’ with a bunch’a outlaws? After a year of runnin’ shine, that is.”

A simple shrug is her reply, and the pause is so long Arthur isn’t sure she’ll actually give him an explanation, until, “You have your code, I have mine.”

“Huh,” he grunts. They watch each other casually for a long moment, then he asks, “You gonna explain?”

He can see her weigh her options, and eventually she relents. “You know…” Her expression immediately tells him what she means: her past, what happened to her. 

“Yeah,” he offers quietly.

“Well, nobody’s born a seasoned gunslinger. When I first started bounty hunting, I had to take the easier targets. Most big pay days, or the jobs that are good start for those of us that’re green, they’re people who rob banks with a pen, rich people doing rich people crimes. They’re soft, easy, and all it really takes to catch them is knowing the land better and being tougher than city folk. Which ain’t hard at all. So, until I could stand on my own, those were the only kinds I took. Then I started goin’ after the bastards I really wanted to. People like the Johnson Brothers.”

She nearly spits the name. Arthur feels the sting in her soul.

“I never take those soft bounties anymore,” she continues after a deep breath, seeming more like herself again with every word. “Unless I need a break. But it’s been a while since I have.”

“Been a while since you took a bounty at all.”

She must notice the question in his voice. Not judgement, but question. “No. You’ve been kicking up too much fuss. Wouldn’t be smart for me to be seen around town here more than once or twice.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. While it is mostly true, it’s about all he’s going to get out of her, but he knows the real reason why. Even if she won’t admit it to herself. “Got me there, Al.”

“Not hard to do, Arthur.”

[zerobotic]

Well, you asked for it and you can’t say I didn’t warn you :3

First off, the usual disclaimer that I did enjoy DH2. I thought it had some very interesting level design ideas with the clockwork mansion and crack in the slab, the new powers were very cool and fun to use, and it polished some of the rough edges from the first game’s mechanics. It’s just the story and such that disappointed me after how much I loved the first game.

So to start off here’s some of the things I found disappointing or frustrating (and keep in mind these are all just my personal feelings on the games):

“Spoiled rich person learns a lesson from poverty tourism” is a plot that gets on my nerves in general and that’s more or less what happened here with Emily’s story

Like, not to disagree with an anti-rich-people story but the first one did a much more poignant job of highlighting greed and corruption and letting you be the one actually fighting it, rather than putting you in the position of perpetuating it. It felt like the first game showed it, while the second game just preached about it.

Boy this sure did feel out of character for both Corvo and Emily. Emily watched her mother be murdered at ten years old for the sake of political power, and then was held hostage for six months while being told her father was executed for her mother’s death. She got a firsthand view of how much the people of the empire were suffering during this time, and then when she finally got rescued she was immediately kidnapped and used as a pawn again by yet more schemers after her mother’s throne. You cannot tell me that’s a person who would grow up to be spoiled and carefree and complacent with their position, or someone who wouldn’t give a shit about their people. Yes, I know that she was a headstrong, rebellious kid with an adventurous streak, and I’m not trying to claim she wouldn’t probably still prefer, on some level or another, to escape to the rooftops with a sword rather than being stuck in court. I’m just saying that kids grow up and change and whoever wrote the second game seems to be stuck on taking ten-year-old Emily at face value for her adult self’s personality too, instead of considering how the first game’s events might have actually influenced her. She’s got more than enough firsthand experience to know to be wary of scheming nobles. (Also I definitely got the feeling, playing the first game, that at least a bit of how Emily behaved at the Hound Pits was her trying to cope with what was happening.) You also can’t tell me that Corvo, father and royal protector of the current empress, man with the most reason and justification to be paranoid out of everyone in the whole damn empire after everything he’s been through, would be so negligent in paying attention to a coup that the first mission claims pretty much everyone in Dunwall knew was happening. 

Building off of that, in general it felt like the first game wasn’t allowed to have much of an impact. It pays lipservice to Jessamine’s death, and acknowledges Corvo having been a badass back then, but that’s....about it? Like I said in the other post, the first game felt so saturated in grief, both for Jessamine and for everything else going on in Dunwall, that it really influenced the overall tone of the game. The second one kinda feels like the first one never happened, or at least didn’t have any lasting influence on the characters or world, and it’s kind of jarring going from one to the other.

So with all that said, here’s my idea for a different DH2. Still using Karnaca as the setting and Delilah as the primary antagonist, just...different. 

"Delilah wants to use a reality-altering painting to change the world into her vision of it” is still a plot point. Except, instead of the end of the game, it’s the beginning. It’s a logical extension of her actions and powers during the Daud DLC - the plan to use Emily’s painting to take over almost worked til it was stopped, so there’s clearly potential there. She’ll just think bigger, more direct this time.

The game starts on a ship. Emily and Corvo are en route to Karnaca for some sort of diplomatic mission. We get to know them a little bit during this opening trip: Emily isn’t an absent, complacent ruler, she's a young woman who inherited a difficult throne as a child, after a series of traumatic events, and now she's trying hard to live up to her mother's legacy and prove herself worthy to an empire that still seems to only see her as the child she was during the interregnum. She’s doing her best, but she’s insecure about all of that, and spends a lot of time frustrated with the back and forth scheming of the nobles, trying to please everyone instead of putting her foot down and getting things done. Corvo is trying to keep her safe where he failed Jessamine, but court still isn’t his preferred arena either. 

The night before they’re due to arrive in Karnaca, we start getting hints that something is...off. Strange dreams, maybe?

They land in Karnaca and things are different than expected. But they don’t get time to look around, because there's guards there to arrest them, claiming they’re wanted criminals. They’ve got music boxes or something that can strip Corvo of his powers, and only one of them gets away while the other is taken. The one that gets away is stuck alone, disoriented, and hunted in an unfamiliar city - even if you play as Corvo, things are different than he remembers. More different than can be explained by just time. 

They meet Meagan Foster. She takes them to meet a group of ex-whalers (the player character doesn’t know who they are). They’re a group that got back in touch with each other in Karnaca after Daud left and the whalers split, and they still do shady shit, but these days it’s generally more smuggling type stuff and they’ve put down the assassin blades. They’re the equivalent of the loyalist home base in this game. Meagan is still the Samuel stand-in, taking the player places and narrating things as necessary. 

Information is shared and the player finds out that somehow, the world is changed from what they remember. Delilah is the empress, here, come by it what seemed like legitimately at some point in the 15 years between Jessamine’s death and now, and Emily and Corvo are wanted criminals. No one seems aware of the change except for the player and the whalers (who only remember it because of their experience with magic, though the player character doesn’t learn that til much later). 

Clearly it’s Delilah who did something, because she has magic, and she’s the one on the throne now. 

The Outsider shows up in their dreams that first night in the new world, but something is clearly wrong in the void, too, and it seems like he’s barely capable of reaching out and communicating with them. He offers the mark, but disappears before really getting a chance to explain anything. 

The player goes through the game now with the goal of finding out what happened, how it happened, and how it can be fixed. DH2 and DOTO explained a lot more than I felt they should’ve, at times, and I preferred how the first game balanced worldbuilding with mystery. So, let things be explored and figured out along the way. 

Things are real bad in this universe. From Emily's perspective as she goes through the game, we get commentary questioning whether or not she was doing a good job, and comparing it to how things are in Delilah's world. There’s lots of corruption and poverty and people suffering, and the question "is this just Delilah's world? How much of this going on in mine too? In trying to navigate court instead of putting my foot down, was I failing my people in the end after all? Would it have been better if my mother was still the empress?" The difference between this and what DH2 did is that she was trying, there was just a lot hindering her, including her own doubts. In this one, those questions aren’t preaching, they’re a sign that she does care and is pained by the idea of her people suffering like this again, by the mere possibility that it might not be just Delilah’s world. 

Corvo and Emily have distinct perspectives, not just the same lines very slightly altered. 

The bloodfly infestations are either 1) a natural thing that wasnt supposed to turn ugly like this and has been affected by Delilah’s magic, or 2) wholly the product of unnatural magic. None of this "we need them and they’re always like this, just not this bad" stuff. if you're gonna repeat the plague motif, make it actually horrifying, like the rat plague was. In fact, there’s obvious magic influence here and there in general - maybe not quite as thorough as at Brigmore Manor, but it’s present enough to give you the creeping feeling that things aren’t right, here, visual confirmation of Delilah’s influence, that things have been changed and twisted from their normal state of things. Hell, maybe this is where the hollows from DOTO come in, the original world and Delilah’s altered version of it trying to bleed through each other in some spaces. Maybe that’s a different explanation for the crack in the slab mission, even. 

Actually, if you’re gonna repeat the plague motif, lean into the similarities between the rat plague era and now. Have them be reminded here and there by things they see, recount what happened and how terrible it was, compare it to now. Give NPCs lines about the comparison and how some of them left Dunwall only to be stuck living through something like this a second time. Let the first game have happened and had an impact, folks, cmon.

On a similar note, if you’re gonna keep Delilah's backstory the same when we finally learn it, let Emily and Corvo get mad about it. They lived through the first game - what right does Delilah have to talk like she's got a monopoly on suffering and that's why she should have the throne?

Delilah's mistake was assuming Emily was a sheltered child who wouldn’t come for her, rather than someone who's already been through a lot and come out on top. That was almost a satisfying thing about the second game but they messed up the execution of the whole concept and I want it to actually pay off. 

I’m not sure if the targets in this one should be the same or how much should change there. Honestly, except for Breanna, the targets in DH2 felt a lot less relevant to what was going on than the DH1 targets did, like...why are half these people even at this ritual? But for simplicity’s sake let’s keep it as close as we can, while also adjusting for the fact that this reality has been tailor-made for Delilah and her buddies. Perhaps the Duke is only the Duke here because things were rewritten to put one of Delilah’s allies in charge, and it was supposed to still be his father. Hypatia isn’t the crown killer (what even was that plot point honestly), she’s the doctor they found to help Delilah recover after her time in the void, and now they’ve rewritten things to imprison her in the institute to keep her quiet and out of the way, and you get wind of it and go to see what she knows. Etc. Is Sokolov involved in this version of things? I dunno! But speaking of Sokolov I want some sort of explanation for where the other surviving loyalists are, damnit. 

Delilah did something in and to the void, just like in canon, but it actually has a visible impact here (beyond just a total aesthetic redesign of the void between games that never gets commented on). The void is struggling under her influence when you find shrines, and you never know what you're gonna find at one of them, or what the Outsider is gonna be like, if he even shows up. Honestly, I’m not a huge fan of the way DH2 gave him a human backstory, because I liked the mystery there behind what he was and what the void was, but this is open to go either way, either with Delilah finding his death site like in canon, or some other way she found to influence it. I’m not sure how the progression would go of how the void changes over the course of the game, but it would be cool to get to help/save the Outsider in some kinda way. 

Finding Corvo's childhood home should have more impact. Let it be like when you find the saferoom in Dunwall tower, in the first game. A temporary refuge in a dangerous place, full of obvious memory and grief - not so much for the time spent here since that's so long in the past, but for all that's been lost, everything they've been through and are in the middle of going through. Especially if you're playing Emily - this is the home of the father she just lost.

Let the heart be vague and ominous again, and let our interactions with it be sad, especially as Emily! I’m still messed up about the first time I heard "the doom of Pandyssia has come to the city" in DH1, and the lines about the floodwaters and the plague victims, give me stuff like that! Especially in a world that isn’t meant to exist the way it currently is, where things have been twisted almost beyond recognition. And give me lines that remind Emily of the mother she lost and how this is the first time she's heard her voice since she was a child!

Give us more on citizens and how they're suffering in this world, the way the first game showed us plague victims who died in each other's arms, journals from the desperate and dying, living people sent to the flooded district. Let it be a reminder to Emily why it's worth it, why she has to change the world back and what she wants to be fighting for when she gets her throne back. Another reason to question - has she been doing all she can? (Alternatively, a source of righteous fury for high chaos Emily.)

This is a journey of self discovery for Emily, either low or high chaos. It's about realizing she hasn’t been doing all she could, despite her intentions, because she's been trying to please everyone and in the end it still wasn’t good enough. She needs to stop living under her mother's shadow and come into her own (and the heart plays a role in this epiphany, probably. This might actually come to a head when she has to let her mother's spirit go, if we're gonna keep that plot point.)

High chaos Emily is similar but in a more "alright no more nice empress" kinda way whereas low chaos is more about conviction to put her foot down to do what's right.

You meet people during the game who in a good ending become part of her new council. Common people, who are more in touch with what needs to be done. It pisses nobles off but she's determined to do better, after everything. It helps both her and Corvo come to terms with the whole safety thing, because you can't ever make sure you're totally safe but you can try to make sure the empire can keep going should something happen to its ruler.

In fact, part of Corvo's perspective on this game probably would involve him still wanting to keep Emily out of things for safety's sake, and wondering if sheltering her from knowledge of magic and such contributed to this situation.

When it's revealed who the whalers are, it's late in the game after we've already come to like them a lot. They don't betray you like the loyalists did, but it should still feel like a punch to the gut for Emily and Corvo.

They don’t know where Daud is, haven’t seen him since the whalers disbanded .

Billie talks about that whole thing, and it's complicated. She decides maybe she should try to find him, after all. Cue DLC, which is about finding Daud, and helping/saving him, and the two reconciling and Billie finding some kind of...if not redemption, then absolution. A parallel to the first game’s DLC, Billie getting an arc like that in Emily’s game the way Daud got that arc in Corvo’s game. Y’know, instead of DOTO going and undoing all of Daud’s character growth. 

I know I’m kind of handwaving the actual mechanics of who the targets are and how you actually go about uncovering what happened and how you can fix it and take down Delilah in the end, but this is all just. Concepts. If I were to try to write this as a fic or something I’d have to actually sit down and work out all those details, but for now this is something that’s just been living in my head since like an hour after I finished DH2 for the first time a couple years ago.

(I did warn you it was gonna be long lmao)

[yellowocaballero]

Cod(a) Monkey

Forgot to post this earlier. Epilogue to my Half-life story Code Monkey , which is a 90s stoner comedy flick except Black Mesa. Probably understandable without it, though. Not canon to that story, but consider it a sort of alt ending. 

Written because my friend was upset that Barney and Gordon never got that beer, so it’s dedicated to @magickkart. The Half Life 2 story is still in the works! It’ll be a bit long. 

Rest under the cut. 

“I don’t feel pain,” Gordon said. “So no. But I went to a concert, and it was very heavy on bass and drums. Good vibrations. Kind of like a gun’s vibrations, but more purposeful.”

“The symphony of violence,” Barney said with a straight face, using the sign for ‘abuse’ and passing the finger past the fist very empathetically, several times, as he always did whenever he felt the need to describe the way Gordon killed things. “Is the mosh pit where you learned the Rambo thing?”

“Sure, Barney. Sure it is.”

“Because I really don’t think you were born a superpowered killing machine -”

“There’s no superpowers involved. I really don’t know how else to explain it to you.”

“You cannot just be a genetic assassin -”

“Guns aren’t hard, Barney. You just press A.”

“What does that mean -”

“What I don’t understand,” Barney said that night, over clammy mugs of beer and sticky wooden tables, “is what Black Mesa was going to do with the world once they took it over. I mean, they were already a shadowy government agency in the most powerful government in the world with unlimited funding that basically did whatever they wanted. What were they going to do, increase our salaries?”

If it wasn’t for the fact that Barney had learned a lot of esoteric vocabulary just to be able to talk to Gordon for hours about his alien and Illuminati conspiracy theories, Gordon reflected, then they really would have been in trouble at Black Mesa. 

“That would have been nice,” Gordon said contemplatively, gently sipping at his beer. He was far from a lightweight, but he had to be careful not to overdrink when he went out with Barney. Guy could drink the entire bar under the table and barely even get dizzy. It was almost unnerving, and raised the question of if anybody who was an ex-employee at Black Mesa was a normal human being, but some Pandora’s Boxes should just stay shut. “I liked my salary.”

“Yeah.” Barney sadly chugged more beer. “I’m not going to miss that job, but I feel like I’m going to miss having a job, you know?”

Mittens licked one of the onion rings sitting in a basket on the table. Gordon stroked Mittens on her head as she pressed up against his hand affectionately. 

This wasn’t their usual bar. Their usual bar was on Black Mesa property, and Black Mesa was currently having a bad case of the crabs right now. When Gordon casually mentioned that to Barney his shoulders started shaking from laughter, but he refused to explain what was funny. So far, Gordon already missed their old bar. It was well-lit, making it easy to talk, completely sterile and anti-bacterial, and had hazardous waste bins. And everyone always knew your name. 

But it wasn’t too bad, for a random bar. They let Gordon and Barney sit on the patio with Mittens in a secluded corner, and it was well enough lit that they could still talk. Random people kept on staring at them, sometimes for an uncomfortable amount of time, and while Gordon was fairly used to it Barney wasn’t. Barney had hesitantly asked if it was because the white lab coat Gordon still wore was dyed half-red with blood, but as that was the natural state of a theoretical physicist’s labcoat Gordon really didn’t see the issue. 

“What other job can I even get?” Barney griped. “My degree isn't good for anything. I was just a rent-a-cop for the last three years. I’m homeless, at least for right now, since my dorm is infested with murderous aliens. I can’t even go back there to get my stuff until the military kills off all the aliens. This sucks.”

“It’s a common Gen X problem,” Gordon said, with a straight face as he scratched Mittens’ ruff. Her purr vibrated happily under his hand. “Divorce, MTV, and reduced adult supervision made us incomplete adults.”

“I miss MTV,” Barney said. “Man, that was just like, high school. The memories, man. We’ll never get the 80s back.”

“I was never really into MTV.”

“Really? You never watched it? Not even for the babes?”

“I never really understood the appeal of babes,” Gordon said, with a straight face. 

“Yeah, I forgot, sorry.” They sat there for a little bit, not talking, as Barney both chugged his beer and seemed to be thinking really hard about something. Finally, he said, “Cute dudes on MTV too. Like, uh...Prince.”

“Prince.”

“Michael Jackson, you know.”

“Yeah, I know Michael Jackson.” Gordon gently freed an onion ring from the cold embrace of Mittens. “College roommate at MIT showed me Nirvana, actually. I liked it.”

“Really? I can see that. Very inner pain.” Barney squinted at Gordon. “Do you have inner pain?”

“I don’t feel pain,” Gordon said. “So no. But I went to a concert, and it was very heavy on bass and drums. Good vibrations. Kind of like a gun’s vibrations, but more purposeful.”

“The symphony of violence,” Barney said with a straight face, using the sign for ‘abuse’ and passing the finger past the fist very empathetically, several times, as he always did whenever he felt the need to describe the way Gordon killed things. “Is the mosh pit where you learned the Rambo thing?”

“Sure, Barney. Sure it is.”

“Because I really don’t think you were born a superpowered killing machine -”

“There’s no superpowers involved. I really don’t know how else to explain it to you.”

“You cannot just be a genetic assassin -”

“Guns aren’t hard, Barney. You just press A.”

“What does that mean -”

It was at that moment that a waitress, looking somewhat startled by Barney’s incredibly expressive and sweeping signing, approached them and asked Barney something. They chatted for a bit - judging by Barney’s smile and the woman’s easy grin, he was flirting with her again, like he did with every waitress. 

“She wants to know if you want a refill,” Barney reported. 

Barney tilted his fist, pushing the mug that he hadn’t realized was empty to the waitress and giving her his best polite smile, which made her flinch in fear and take the cup, disappearing quickly. Was it the lab coat, or was Gordon really just that bad at looking polite?

“But you’re changing the subject,” Barney said, when she ran off, seemingly uncaring that Gordon had torpedoed his flirting attempts. “Why would Black Mesa make a deal with the alien armies to take over the world? And what musicians did you have a crush on as a kid?”

“That question is so esoteric and obscure that the answer is almost unfathomable.”

“Stop using complicated signs, asshole, this is my fourth language.” After a second of translation, Barney followed that up with, “Okay, which question was that in response to?”

“Yes.”

“Now you’re just being an asshole,” Barney accused, and Gordon surprised himself by barking a laugh. 

“Maybe I am an asshole,” Gordon teased, unfamiliar with the concept but willing to give it a shot, “but I’m your asshole.”

For some reason, that made Barney flush very red, and finish his beer very quickly before moving Mittens aside to stuff some onion rings in his mouth. Finally, after Barney seemed to collect himself, he weakly offered, “Never thought I’d see Gordon Freeman admit that we were friends.”

“Some things you can’t experience together without admitting that you’re friends, and defeating an alien hoard is one of them,” Gordon joked. Wow. Two jokes in one day. Might as well put on the face paint and the red nose, he was becoming a comedian. Maybe all of the crowbars to the skull had cracked him. 

But Barney just squinted at him. “Are you quoting something?”

“That kid’s book that everyone’s talking about?”

“What?” Barney snapped his fingers in thought, before lighting up. “Oh, Harry Potter! I keep meaning to check that out. My little sister keeps talking about it.”

“They’re pretty good.” Gordon read it in case someone asked him what bonding activities he did with his fake son. “I’ll lend you my copy.”

“When your dorm’s no longer full of aliens.”

“Yeah. When my dorm isn’t full of aliens.”

“But that’ll be soon,” Barney said, smiling hesitantly and hopefully and fearfully, “right?”

“You know, Barney,” Gordon said, picking up Mittens and putting her in his lap as she purred gratefully, “I really think all of this will just blow over. And everything’ll go back to normal.”

“That’s good to know.”

And it was. 

[falseroar]

Is This Your Card? Part 18: Voices in the Halls

((The District Attorney, overwhelmed by the apparent loss of yet another friend, just wants a minute to finally grieve alone. Instead, they hear an unexpected voice that leads them and in turn the Colonel to Abe’s study and another confrontation.

Warning: multiple characters shot.

Link to Part 17: The Groundskeeper and to the masterlist.))

“I know he’s in pain, and I know you might be too…”

You looked up and the butler paused before continuing.

“But we need to leave this place. I don’t know what is happening here,” he said, eyes drifting toward the locked and bound door before returning to your face. “But I believe George was right. There’s only death here now.”

“I can’t,” you whispered. “Not without—I can’t.”

“You can wait for the hunter outside,” Benjamin said. “He can take care of himself, but you…I must be honest, you don’t look well.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to correct him, so you just shook your head and said, “I…I just need a second. Please.”

The butler hesitated until he saw the look in your eyes, heard the hitch in your voice. “Very well, but you really must not stay here.”

You nodded, mumbling something about being right behind him, and the butler reluctantly walked away with one last look back at you with something that might have been pity, not that you cared anymore.

Damien.

You had seen him right here just minutes ago, although now it felt more like seconds or maybe hours since you saw him and his sister disappear through the now sealed door. And then…

You couldn’t breathe.

Damien was gone.

He wasn’t there, no gentle voice to call you back to yourself, no one around to see as you curled in on yourself and turned into the wolf, a low whine escaping your chest as you tried to shut your eyes to it all.

He couldn’t just be gone, could he? There had to be something, anything you could do, but you were painfully aware that there was no magician appearing at the last second to set almost everything right, not this time. There was no sign that there had even been anything left of Celine to save. They were already…

“Hey.”

Your claws caught and tore into the carpet as you shot up, hackles raised as you stared at the door.

Celine?

You tentatively moved closer, ears cocked forward in search of any sound, any hope, but there wasn’t even a breath to break the silence. When you sniffed at the bottom of the door, the scent of rot and decay filled your nostrils, sending you skittering backward to get away.

But the smell wouldn’t leave you. In fact it seemed to be coming from the very walls of the house itself, which seemed to have not just aged but suffered from some kind of infestation while you weren’t looking. The wood and plaster on the walls were covered with stains from something dark trying to leak its way through, while dust and rot drifted down from the ceiling above in a way that suggested the roof would soon follow.

“Help!”

You heard the voice again, you were sure of it, but it wasn’t coming from the sealed room. Cautiously, you began to walk down the hall, body shuddering with every step as you felt the not quite damp and yet not quite dry carpet give beneath the pads of your paws.

But you kept moving forward, following the direction you thought the voice came from until you heard another, and another, and another, all distant and distorted like echoes, like the things you saw in Celine’s crystal ball. You weren’t concerned about anyone seeing you like this, not when everyone who didn’t know was already gone, and more than any fear of being seen was the fear that you might miss something without the wolf’s hearing.

You found yourself in the dining room despite not going down any stairs and heard Abe’s voice in the distance, angry but so low and slurred that you almost didn’t recognize it.

“I know exactly what you are, you…”

You turned, following the last traces of his voice while keeping your slow, even pace, eyes roaming for a sign of anyone, anything, until another voice took you off guard in the living room.

“Be careful,” Damien’s voice whispered. The last words he said to you.

You sped up in an unfamiliar hallway, less cautious now as you tried to keep up only to find yourself in Mark’s bedroom. Only to hear his voice.

“…surrounded by close and trusted friends.”

Bedrooms, the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, you found yourself walking through one room after the other with no rhyme or reason to connect them or the twisting, turning hallways except for the voices fading in and out, always just out of reach, always leading you on. The butler, the chef, the groundskeeper, you heard them all, but every room was as dark and empty and cold as the last.

Until you spotted the open door up ahead, one you had never noticed before, the light inside beckoning you as the darkness and rot faded away behind you.

By the time you reached the door, you had already changed back, stumbling a little at the readjustment to two feet and catching yourself on the door frame as you looked inside—

And found nothing but an empty study.

The breath left your chest quickly, even though you couldn’t say what you had hoped to find. Not a mess of papers and books covering a desk or notes and photos and news clippings pinned to the wall with random bits of string connecting them in some strange web, that was for sure.

Photos and news clippings of everyone in the house.

You moved closer, but the jumble of images and half-formed ideas hastily scribbled down on the notes made no more sense the longer you looked at them. There were photos of the chef alongside a news article about his failed restaurant, something about Benjamin and a business you had never heard of, a cluster of articles about Damien and some pages that looked as though they had been taken straight from his desk, even some stuff about you and the hunter, but most of the strings started and branched out from two faces in particular: Celine and the Colonel, connected by torn pieces of a letter.

You turned back to the desk and spotted a typewriter among the mess, your heart momentarily leaping into your throat at the familiar typeface on the piece of paper still in the typewriter, identical to the notes on the cards.

Someone, and you were fairly sure you knew who, had sat here and typed out the same words, over and over until they bled together:

The Colonel did it.

Next to the typewriter was the broken picture frame from Mark’s bedroom, out of which the Colonel stared back at you as he posed in his military uniform.

But that didn’t—

“There you are!” the Colonel said from the open doorway behind you. “I’ve been meaning to ask you some…questions…”

His eyes went down to the scattered pages and photos on the desk. “What is this? The hunter, he’s been keeping tabs on us?”

And then he spotted the wall, and the web of strings connecting him and Celine. “The hunter’s been keeping tabs on me, and Celine!”

“Colonel,” you started, but he didn’t wait for you to try and speak up for Abe.

“Don’t you see?! If he knew all of this, what’s to say he’s not the one who sent us those cards? He orchestrated all of this! He did this!”

“You can’t know that—”

“Hunter!” the Colonel bellowed, already walking out of the room with his gun out. “Hunter!”

You followed after him as he took to the stairs, speaking out loud to you or to himself you weren’t sure as his voice went from angry to a pained rasp, as though he were close to tears. “Where is he? He took them from me…He took my friends from me. He took…Celine, he took Damien! Where is he?”

It was all you could do to keep up on the stairs or as he began to check one door after the other, your head spinning and your breath catching in your chest, not helped by the pain in your side that throbbed with every heartbeat, but when you opened your mouth and tried to speak, he just turned on you with the same manic anger that was growing with every second.

“WHERE IS HE?! Hunter! Are you hiding him from me?!”

“No,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you strained to speak. “Colonel, please—”

“He can’t hide forever. Get out of my way!”

The Colonel pushed past you, unaware of or not caring about the pained gasp as you caught yourself on the railing before spinning around when he shouted again.

“Hunter!”

Abe was standing at the other end of the hall, near the locked and bound door as though looking for something, but at the sound of the Colonel’s voice he turned, gun up and pointed directly at the other man.

“You’d better choose your next words carefully, Colonel,” Abe said, his eyes darting toward you before returning to the Colonel.

“Only my friends get to call me by that name, and you, sir, are no friend of mine!”

“Well, you’re one to talk about friends, you murderer!”

Neither man even flinched at the thunder overhead or stopped pointing their guns at the other, although the Colonel turned his head slightly to say to you, “I didn’t start this!”

“Colonel, Abe, you need to calm down,” you said, moving as close as you dared. You could feel it again, that same overwhelming presence that was there in the room with Celine, that overwhelming sense of dread and paranoia that seemed to take everyone in the area’s fight-or-flight response and kick it up to 11. It made you want to turn into the wolf in self-defense, to run, to hide, but for Celine it drove out any and all self-control she had, leaving her ready to fight the second your words seemed to threaten her.

And now it was affecting two men holdings loaded guns pointed at each other.

“Calm down?!” the Colonel said in disbelief. “This is madness!”

“Stay out of this, partner,” Abe muttered, eyes still locked on the Colonel. “And you wanna talk about madness? Madness is stealing your best friend’s wife. Madness is you and her concocting this sick plot to blackmail everyone—”

“Shut up!” roared the Colonel. “You’re the one dragging up everyone’s past, you’re the only one who could have known about—about—”

“Me?! Celine was the one with the fascination for the occult and all that Tarot card nonsense! So she uses her ‘special skills’ to drag up dirt on everybody, while you do her dirty work and steal my silver bullets so you can plant one in your—”

“Stop!” You tried to step in, but the Colonel brushed you off, his gun never wavering from the hunter. “Colonel, Abe doesn’t know about your—about Dave!”

“Who?” Abe asked.

“See?! And Abe, how could the Colonel have switched the bullets in your gun? It was locked away, and no one took the master key from the kitchen!”

“There are two keys!”

“I know. One from the kitchen,” you said, pulling out the key from your own pocket before gesturing toward the key bound in the lock to the sealed room. “And Mark’s key. Abe, where did you get that key from?”

The Colonel narrowed his eyes, but Abe just tightened his grip on his gun and said, “From Mark’s bedroom, where the Colonel probably tossed it and locked the door behind him, to throw off suspicion. He’s been here before, he knew about the second key!”

“But I didn’t know about any silver bullets,” the Colonel protested. “Mark didn’t tell me—Y/N, you can’t trust him, you know what he is!”

“Don’t you dare talk to my partner!” Abe shouted. “I know exactly what you are, you—”

“Shut up!”

“—plotted the death of your childhood friend because you couldn’t handle the—”

Another, this time unprompted crack of thunder came from overhead. Maybe the Colonel mistook it for the fire of the hunter’s gun, or it was a reflex as the lights in the house flickered, or maybe he finally reached his tipping point at the accusation of deliberately killing his friend.

Either way, Abe never got a chance to finish his sentence as a second blast of thunder marked the flash of the Colonel’s gun.

You saw Abe stagger backward before collapsing, heard the scream rip its way out of your chest as you lunged forward, the brief struggle with the Colonel before his gun fired again.

This time sending a silver bullet straight into your chest.

Everything slowed, your vision blurring as you stared at the blood on your hands before staggering backward, the Colonel’s outstretched hand too late to stop you from going over the railing behind you, his words lost behind the roar filling your ears as you plummeted to the floor below, your last sight that of the Colonel desperately reaching for you.

“It was an accident!”

Followed by the crash of darkness.

“I swear…”

((End of Part 18. As always, thank you for reading.

Link to Part 19.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch ))

[cheemerthelizard]

Crusader of Life (Kakyoin x Reader) Chapter 4

Okay so I’m gonna start putting a small summary of what’s going to happen in the chapters here instead of just rambling about random stuff. Probably.

The last couple of hours had been absolutely insane. After the plane had crashed into the ocean, and most people made it out alive, you ended up in Hong Kong, where yet another Stand user sent by Dio, named Polnareff, was ready to kill your group off. Just like Kakyoin, he had a flesh bud, and once you got rid of that, he also joined your group. Now, you were on a boat, on your way to Singapore.

Since there wasn’t much else to do, and nobody really needed you at the moment, you just let your thoughts wander. Thinking about nothing and everything, life, the universe, whatever you wanted to think about. It was nice having a time where you didn’t have to worry about a Stand user. Since Joseph was a good friend of the Speedwagon Foundation, they let you borrow a boat, which only had trusted employees on it. Eventually, you got bored of just sitting and thinking random thoughts of nothingness, and decided to use Ace of Pentacles. Making copies of living things was always a good pastime. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much living on this ship, other than the crew and your little group. Still, whatever you could find, you would duplicate. You summoned Ace, and looked for small bugs, rats, or some rotten food. Sadly, you came up with nothing.

“Well, Ace, what do you want to do?” you asked, and she answered by gazing at Kakyoin.

“Oh, come on, you know that’s a last resort thing,” you answered. “What if someone catches you looking at him? What if he catches you looking at him?” Still, Ace’s eyes didn’t break from Kakyoin’s face.

“Fine,” you mumbled, “but I’m going to be doing the sightseeing, got it?” Ace nodded, and disappeared. Honestly, out of all the things you could be doing, you felt like this was the one that would kill the most time. You could study that face for hours. His hair, so neat and red. His eyes, and their beautiful lavender color. His jawline, so sharp and strong. Just looking at him made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and you couldn’t help but feel a smile creeping up on your face.

“What’cha lookin’ at?” Polnareff asked, and you jumped a bit.

“O-oh! Just looking at the waves,” you replied. Yes. Good cover.

“Hmm,” Polnareff said, scratching an imaginary beard. “Well, we’re right next to the side of the boat, and you seem to be looking in the opposite direction.”

“Wh-what?” you asked. Uh oh. He was onto you.

“In fact, I’d say that your eyes were following a certain teammate of ours. One with a green school uniform on.” Polnareff got a smug little smile stuck on his face. “In fact, if I didn’t know any better, it seems that you were looking like you were in-“

“Please don’t tell anyone,” you begged, burying your face in your hands. “Yes, I’m in love. Please don’t tell Kakyoin. Avdol already knows, too.” You were blushing so hard, you were sure it was noticeable, even with your face covered up. Then, you felt an arm around your shoulder.

“Don’t you worry,” Polnareff laughed, “your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thank you,” you breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much.”

“Hey! Let me go!” You and Polnareff heard an unfamiliar voice from the other side of the deck. It wasn’t an adult’s voice, so it couldn’t have been any of the crew members. Both of you ran across to see what all the commotion was about, and found a little boy, probably about 10 years old, being held by his arms.

“I thought there was only the crew on this ship,” Joseph said. “Why is this boy here?”

“He’s a stowaway,” the crew member replied. “He got on before we left for Singapore.”

“A stowaway, huh?”

“Hey! I said to let me go!” the boy snapped.

“Oh, I’m not letting you go,” the crew member laughed a little. “I’m gonna have to turn you into the navy police!”

The boy gasped. “N-navy?” He stepped back a little. “No! Please! I’m just going to visit my dad in Singapore. Please, I’ll do anything! I’ll make myself useful around here, I promise.”

“Hmmmm,” the crew member was having a fun time messing with the kid. “Nah. I think I’ll just turn you in,” he decided, and his words brought despair to the boy’s face. That look lasted a while, but as soon as the crew member had his back turned, the boy chomped on his arm, and dived out from the boat, into the sea. While the rest of the people on the boat looked to see the kid, Jotaro seemed unfazed.

“He probably jumped in because he’s a confident swimmer,” he said. “Just let him go.” Geez. Now you remembered why everyone at school called him cold.

“No, this is very bad!” The crew member started panicking. “These waters are shark-infested!”

Then, like a boy who had caught on to the game his friend was playing, a shark came through, and it looked ready to chomp up the kid in the water. It was almost too late when he noticed it.

“Good grief,” Jotaro sighed. He summoned Star Platinum, and headed out into the sea. It was probably very strange to the boy, seeing a shark just get punched out by some unknown force, but you were sure he’d be grateful nonetheless. Once the shark was no longer a problem, Jotaro grabbed the boy’s shirt and pulled him back to the boat. However, before he got back, he stopped, and pressed on the boy’s chest again. You couldn’t hear from the boat, but you could tell Jotaro was surprised about something. Then again, so were you, as soon as Jotaro took the hat off of the boy, to reveal long strands of wavy hair. Turns out the boy wasn’t a boy at all: he was actually a she.

Despite not being able to hear that far away, you could definitely tell that the girl was yelling at Jotaro, probably for touching her chest like that. Honestly, if someone touched you like that, you’d probably go off on them, too.

As Jotaro was swimming with the girl back to the boat, you saw another creature in the water. This one, however, didn’t look like a shark. In fact, it didn’t resemble anything you had seen before. There was only one conclusion: an enemy Stand.

“Jotaro!” you cried. “Enemy Stand! In the water! Get out! Now!”

Either Jotaro had heard you, or he noticed the Stand, but either way, he started paddling faster and faster, making sure the girl was in front of him. It was almost too late, but he was just in Hierophant’s range to be pulled out of the water in the nick of time, as the life raft was torn to shreds by the monster in the water.

Once Jotaro and the girl were safe, all of you were thinking the same thing: is this stowaway really a follower of Dio?

“There’s no way she could be the Stand user,” you whispered. “I mean, we had to go save her from the shark.”

“That could’ve been bait,” Polnareff whispered back.

The girl turned to your group. “Why are you glaring at me, huh? You wanna fight?” She pulled out a knife. “I can fight! One on one! Let’s go!”

“She really doesn’t look the part,” Joseph murmured.

“Anyone can obtain a Stand, even children,” Avdol spoke softly.

“Hey! I asked you a question!” That girl was very persistent. “My knife is telling me it wants the blood of it’s 340th victim.”

Kakyoin chuckled a little bit.

“What is it, punk?” She glared at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Punk?” Kakyoin laughed. “You know, I really don’t think she’s the user.”

“But if she isn’t, than who is?” That was the question everyone had on their minds.

“Ah, so here’s our little stowaway,” the captain walked onto the deck. “Hm. A little small, if you ask me. Well, I can’t take it easy on you, even if you’re a girl. If we take it easy, we’ll just get more and more stowaways.” He started twisting the girl’s arm.

“I’ve figured out who the Stand user is,” Jotaro said. “It’s the captain!”

“And how do you know, Jotaro?” Avdol asked. “If you just make random accusations, things will get more confusing.”

“Stand?” The captain scratched his head. “What’s that?”

“I know,” Jotaro replied, “because any Stand user who inhales even a little bit of cigarette smoke will have a vain pop up on their nose!”

At this, everyone, including the captain, checked their noses. You didn’t see anything on your nose. “You can’t be serious, Jotaro,” you said.

“Nope,” he shrugged, “I was lying. But looks like we found the idiot.”

Suddenly, the captain laughed. “Fine. You got me. I’m not the real captain. He’s already at the bottom of the ocean, sleeping with the fishes. I was going to pick you off, one by one, but I guess I’ll have to use plan B.” Without warning, he grabbed the girl, and held onto her with his Stand. “I might not be able to take on all five of you on land, but if I drag a hostage into the water with me, then I’ll have the upper hand.” He jumped off the deck, but before he reached the water, Jotaro had already gotten the girl out of the captain’s grasp, safe and sound, as well as made sure that he wasn’t coming back to shore anytime soon.

“Yeah, Jotaro!” you cheered. “Great job!”

“He sure talked up his powers,” Polnareff laughed.

“Hey, Jotaro,” Joseph said, “why aren’t you bringing the girl in?”

“I’m trying,” Jotaro’s voice sounded clenched as he bent over the railing, “but I can’t. I can’t even bring Star Platinum back.” Suddenly, he fell off, as if he was magnetized to the sea. Before he fell in, though, he threw the girl up, and Hierophant caught her. Then, before you knew it, Jotaro had fallen to the bottom of the sea.

Every last one of the people on board, including the crew members and the girl, were anxiously holding their breath, praying to whatever god they believed in that Jotaro would make it out alive. One minute. Two minutes. Three. He still wasn’t up. Maybe you should have duplicated him, before it was too late. Then again, those acorn barnacles stuck to him were technically a status condition, even if it was the work of a Stand, so it wouldn’t have made a difference. Of course, as you thought of something you could have done ahead of time that would prevent this horrible disaster, things just had to get worse. A whirlpool. The fake captain had created a whirlpool, and Jotaro was trapped in it. Kakyoin tried fishing him out of there, but the Stand’s scales were everywhere in there. It was impossible to get Jotaro out of there. Anxiety flew through you, and each second felt ten times as long. Then, out of the blue, you saw your friend pop up for just a second.

“I saw Jotaro!” Kakyoin cried. “He was completely limp!”

“Completely limp, you say?” Joseph asked. “This might be a good thing.”

“Forgive my rudeness, Mr. Joestar,” you said, “but how in the world could this be a good thing?! He’s limp! He might already be dead!”

“Well, us Joestars have a way of getting out of tricky situations like these,” Joseph replied. “And I think Jotaro has figured out how.”

“Oh, I hope you’re right, Mr. Joestar,” you muttered. “I really, truly, hope you’re right.”

Conveniently, once you got done with your tiny monolouge, the whirlpool had ended, and Jotaro had finally surfaced again.

“That’s my grandson for you!” Joseph laughed. “See, (Y/N)? Nothing to worry about. Now, come back up, and-“

Joseph didn’t get to finish what he was going to say, because an explosion happened somewhere on the boat. Then another one. And another one.

“Quickly! To the life boats!” Joseph cried, and nobody wasted any time doing what he said. You jumped from the deck just as an explosion happened behind you, pushing you right into the life boat. You landed with a faceplant, and heard an, “Ow!” from a familiar voice. That’s when you realized you had landed right on Kakyoin’s legs, very hard.

“Oh, Kakyoin! I’m so sorry!” You kept apologizing, and asking to pay him back somehow.

“I’m telling you, (Y/N), I’m fine,” Kakyoin laughed a little bit. “My legs will be fine.”

You thanked him for understanding, then looked for a place to sit on the life boat. Turns out, the only seat was right next to Kakyoin. Dang it. That girl, who’s name was Anne, had taken the only seat away from him. Avdol and Polnareff gave you smug smiles, and you made a hand slashing motion near your neck, telling them to cut it out, then pointing at Kakyoin, signifying he was right there. Both of them looked away, still smiling.

Great. Just what you needed on this trip. A tiny crush, and two guys who knew about it.

[no-error]

Did you say angst? Vol.2

Klangst keeps you going? Enjoy~

!PART 1 HERE!

Modern

spilled coffee

Keith and Lance haven't seen each other since high school. When they meet again in a coffee shop three years later, neither thinks that the other remembers them. As life continues throw the pair back together, and as they slowly grow closer, can they forget the mistakes of their past, or will it come back to haunt them?

(GO READ THIS OMG ALL ANGST AND OH MY HEART)

35,620 words   AO3

ones and zeros and exes and ohs

L”A.I.”nce AU Series (36,107 words 3 works not completed)

“Our AI will train you to make new friends, tell you how to present yourself, give you style and fashion tips, and…and maybe help you find a partner.”

12,677 words   AO3

Sand as Fuel

"It took a few seconds for him to realize he was moving, a few more to realize he was being dragged."

A year after graduating from the Garrison, Lance and his crew crashes on a patrol. After waking up from the impact, the last thing Lance expects to be is taken across a desert by a stranger. In turn, he plays his part of what must be the strangest hostage situation to date.

20,319 words   AO3

Space

Let Me Catch My Breath

(Coeihns Series 306,503 words 4 works not completed)

So, Lance has to fight five champions of an alien race to save Keith- wouldn't sound too hard if he wasn't blind from an injury at that very moment. Oh, and did he mention that if he doesn't defeat the five then Keith is given to them like some prize? Some delicious little prize that they will most likely do whatever they please with?

Left to fend for themselves, blinded and injured, two unlikely Paladins must work together to survive. Tensions get high with horrid creatures, a determined assassinator, and their growing attraction to the other.So, both a frustrating tension and sexual one, huh? Or could you consider those the same thing?

229,449 words   AO3

He Sleeps, She Sings, They Listen Series (Completed)

A certain blue paladin didn't meet up with who he was supposed to. And now, the whole team has to figure out why. He wouldn't just abandon them.

Would he?

65,116 words 7 works  AO3

These Eyes Are Blind to Those Left Behind

(Breached Not Broken Series 26,928 words 2 works completed)

Keith never thought he'd see Galra or Altean tech again. He had run far from the Galra, and the Alteans had been killed. Earth was a safe place, away from that. A place where he could think, could plot, could search for a weapon.

And then Shiro came back with a Galra arm and he met the Blue Lion.

And ten thousand years of running, of searching for a weapon to fight back against the Galra suddenly wasn't enough time.

24,484 words   AO3

Rest Stop

Lance wasn't like the rest of the world.

And he had never had a loving mother tell him it made him stronger for it. So he told himself, gathering up his courage and grit to face a world of winged humanity, when he, in fact, has no wings and turns into a mermaid instead.

A world that wants him to die.

So he'd keep this secret like a knife in his boot, a sharp weapon until he died on his own terms. Not because of who he was.

Except, Team Voltron isn't so sure why Lance is all rough edges and sharp points about showing off his wings. Or acting like a member of the Flock in general. It's clear he cares for them, but he's never shown an intimate part of him.

Until he has to.

10,776 words   AO3

The Color Of Our Planet From Far Far Away

A story in which Lance and the team has a lot of difficulties, because they don't sleep and sometimes make poor choices as a result and others are forced to suffer more than they deserve due to those poor choices.

Or Lance gets hurt because the team didn't listen and everyone desperately wants to fix it.

30,553 words   AO3

Stars in Your Eyes, Death at Your Throat

His eyes held a galaxy of stars, love was shining through, even with death creeping at his throat.

Or

No one knows about Lance and Keith's late night calls, until they're all scrambling to figure out how someone could break into the castle in the middle of the night without leaving a trace.

16,956 words   AO3

so much more than space dust

“Allura!”

“-get him out of there-”

“It’s too soon, it’s not-”

“Look at him!”

Lance wasn’t sure where he ended and the stars began. Maybe he was the stars, maybe he’d always just been the pain and the stars and the voices.

“-OUT OF THE POD!”

When a cryopod malfunctions, Lance is left with amnesia. As he struggles to figure out where he fits in the new formation of the team, the rest of Voltron is racing against the clock to figure out where Lotor will strike next- and their only clue is hidden somewhere in Lance's lost memories. Lance will have to find a way to remember what he's missing- or come to terms with what he's forgotten.

40,811 words   AO3

We are the lost and forgotten

Keith was hearing voices. Well, that’s not exactly right. Voices create the idea that there were multiple. No, there was just one. Only one demanding, raspy, constant, annoying voice. Ever since himself and Shiro were saved from that stupid heat infested planet it has been traveling with him. That voice, that irreplaceable sound, would just not shut up.

“Awwh, is our wittle Keithy-boo not doing okay since we rescued him? Is being a Defender of the Universe too much to handle?”

“Lance!”

Keith began to fear he was cracking.

75,927 words   AO3

Half of Me Has Gone Away

It had gotten worse for Lance at the Castle of Lions. He didn’t know what to do anymore. Everything Lance did was wrong, every move he made was somehow the worst thing he could have done, and he was getting sick and tired of it. Shiro was constantly on his back about stuff he didn’t do and he couldn’t even stand up for himself without getting yelled at by Shiro. Lance honestly felt like he was going to explode with everything he kept bottling up inside himself.

6,721 words   AO3

i found love (in a space lion)

He was awake. He didn't quite remember where he was, why he was in a glass egg, or what happened to his shoes, but he could remember the pain, sharp and clear and everywhere, and a voice, desperate and thin, telling him to stay.

'Lance?'

He looked at the boy to his right, squinting at his unfamiliar face and losing himself in his lilac eyes. He cleared his throat.

'What in the quiznack is a Lance?'

17169 words   AO3

The Storm Or The Stars.

After they found Shiro and Matt, everyone still had their thing, and Lance was no longer the 7th wheel, he's now the 10th. After a disastrous solo mission he is captured and is left to fend for himself. After a twist of fate, how will Lance and the team adjust to their new positions in the universe?

96,176 words   AO3

Fighting the Surface

“Humans have shown quite the impressive drive for survival,” the Galra commander grins. “I want to see you fight against that. The druids claim drowning is quite the painful way to go." He tips Lance backward over the water, as Keith and Shiro struggle against their bonds. "If you surface, they die.”

Lance’s eyes widen and he's pushed backward with a splash.

19,809 words   AO3

Bleeding White

Even if it meant pain, he could handle it.

15,953 words   AO3

La Douleur Exquise

Keith and Allura are a lot closer than they had been. Or maybe it's just Lance's imagination? Whatever it is, Lance is in love and he's holding onto threads of hope that maybe, just maybe, he has a chance.

23,427 words   AO3

your claws in me

“Oh trust me. When I’m done with you, I won’t be able to stop laughing,” Lance says lowly, and his lips curl farther, and there’s something wild in his stare, and it hits Keith suddenly.

This isn’t Lance.

Lance falls under the control of Zarkon's Druids, and although his friends manage to get him back, nothing is quite the same. Maybe the Galra succeeded after all. Maybe the Galra merely wanted to tear Team Voltron apart from the inside.

51,143 words   AO3

Don't forget

“You know what, screw you Lance!”

“You already have.” Lance lightly replied and Keith looked like he was about to punch him. Lance and Keith have a lot more history than the other paladins know.

8,846 words   AO3

Necessary

(Necessary Series 30,545 words 2 works not completed)

Keith screws up, Lance is captured, and the blue light of Voltron is dimmed. Who are you really, Lance? And what do you need?

22,026 words   AO3

Break Every Chain On Me

Lance is tired of no one listening to him, tired of his fears and concerns being brushed aside. With his suspicions about Shiro and Lotor being ignored, Lance decides to go to the one person group that he knows will believe him, Keith the Blade of Marmora. However, emotions run high and situations become complicated. Lance must grow to move forward, but that's easier said than done when his insecurities bind him.

Keith was finally carving out a spot for himself in the Blade, finally feeling as if maybe he belonged somewhere. That's until his mother decides to return to the main base, and his crush suddenly shows up unannounced. It's hard for him to face his feelings when he's so used to fighting them. He needs to confront his issues or forever be locked in place, never finding a place where he fits.

14,406 words   AO3

[ellstersmash]

Kissing Prompt: I mean Unbreakable Kiss - Solavellan is required by law so I guess I'll go with that one

Waking Up

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Solas x f!Lavellan (post-Trespasser)

Rating: T for Teen

A/N: Because I am A Big Dork, I referenced “Awake, Alive” (aka that one rain fic) quite heavily here. Also, it got long so there’s a read-more!

[Read on AO3]

It has been a trying day.

After spending most of his time settling a number of petty squabbles and minor annoyances, Solas closes the door to his rooms behind him. Piece by piece, he sheds the mantle of Fen’Harel, puts off the heavy weight of the Dread Wolf’s armor and replaces it with soft leather leggings. A simple tunic, tied around his waist. He pours himself a glass of wine from a tray left on the table, drinks it dry, then pours another.

There are letters on his desk that must be read, assessed, returned. But he is tired. Something must be in the air around the fortress, or the water within. Something that has disquieted his people, sown discord and mistrust throughout the ranks. At first, he had suspected a spirit, perhaps one of chaos. Yet there is no evidence of any such interaction present or lingering in the Fade. Sabotage is still a possibility, always a possibility, but the effects have been so minimal—no more annoying than the buzz of an insect in one’s ear—that he believes it unlikely.

No. His people are mortals, mostly. To them, his days are years, his lifetime an eternity. Most likely, they are simply acting like the children they are. Impatient. Restless. Bored.

A commotion breaks out in the courtyard beneath his balcony. Solas breathes deeply, slowly, and walks out into the open air to find two of his soldiers restraining a woman by the arms, while another holds a sword steady at her throat. Though, judging by the spots of red blooming at her neckline, perhaps not all that steady.

“Explain.” His voice echoes off the once-ruined walls of stone, and a hush falls over the crowd that has gathered.

A small boy pipes up, one of his message runners. “She’s been lurking around for the past two days, Ser.”

When Solas does not speak, the boy continues. “I seen her in the kitchens and the barracks, and over near the stables. Even up by the ravens. Real suspicious.”

He had also visited the kitchens, to deal with reports of mysteriously spoiled goods. And the barracks, where beloved possessions had gone missing and been found among others’ things. His stablemaster had complained about an infestation of mice, and many of the ravens had been freed.

“An’ just now, she was asking about you, Ser. Weird stuff, an—”

“And that’s when I confronted her,” the man with the sword calls out. “The boy was clearly distressed.”

“I see.” Solas narrows his eyes. She is small, unassuming, with a kind face. Loose brown braids the color of dry dirt and round, rosy cheeks. No, he does not know her, but perhaps he should.

“Bring her to me.”

He stands and waits by the window on the far wall, hands clasped behind his back. Waits for the conclusion to the day’s particular brand of mischief. But when the door opens, all the air in his lungs escapes through it.

Copper and ashes. Citrus and storms.

Solas gapes at her, at this unfamiliar intruder wearing someone else’s magic.

“Leave us.”

“But, Ser—”

“Leave.”

Rightfully confused, they release the woman and file out the door, closing it behind them.

She does not move, does not speak, does not look at him. He walks past her to turn the lock, and the taste of her magic is intoxicating, even if her body is all wrong.

“Why are you here?”

Silence.

He walks around her, studies the angles of her face and the shape of her body. “Are you a friend, or an enemy to our cause?”

She gives no answer.

“What do you know of me?”

Her eyes dart up unexpectedly to meet his, and he starts. The irises are brown, as unfamiliar as the rest of her, but the intensity, the intimacy with which she searches him …

“Who are you?”

She answers with a smile, a beautifully, painfully familiar grin full of mischief and mirth. “Guess.”

But he does not have to. A necklace gleams red where it lies against her shirt; it draws his gaze and he cannot believe he did not notice. He takes the pendant in his palm and closes his fist, crushing the glass—and the charm along with it.

The color of her hair deepens while the brown of her eyes clears like clouds on the wind, until all that’s left is a soft golden green. Her skin grows darker and the plumpness in her cheeks fades, even as June’s marks re-etch their paths across her face. The smooth shape of her left arm twists into an intricately woven column of what can only be ironbark, and she wiggles the fingers like she knows he’s looking. It is discomforting to watch her change. Like waking up.

“I’ve learned a few tricks.”

“Yes.” He cannot help but smile affectionately. “I see you finally took up blood magic.”

Athi shrugs a shoulder. “You made a pretty good case.”

He wants to touch her, to feel the skin that suits her, to crush her body to his own. But he does not, must not, for they are still enemies in this war.

“What was the goal, vhenan? The supplies, the soldiers, the vermin. Was it your plan to irritate me into submission?”

“Yes,” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Are you prepared to surrender?”

Solas shakes his head, more as a reminder to himself than a response. With her here, so close, teasing him like she used to, he is closer than he’d like to admit.

“Not yet? Well, that’s inconvenient. I suppose I’ll have to ask Sera for ideas next time. She’ll be very upset I didn’t come to her first … but I’m sure she knows someone with too many lizards.”

He can’t help it. He laughs. It feels foreign in his chest, on his face, in the room where he sleeps. He laughs until tears prick at the edges of his eyes, then he laughs until they fall.

Three years, he thinks, since he’s laughed like that.

The blossoms on her neckline—

“You’re hurt,” he says, and tips her chin up to look.

“Only a little.”

She’s right. Barely a scratch, but he heals it all the same. Then her hand is on the back of his neck and she is breathing in his exhale and whether it’s the rush of joy, or his long loneliness, or simply that he has missed her, he doesn’t know. But he meets her lips like coming home. He unpacks, moves in, rests, remembers.

He remembers how his fingers ride the curve of her waist, and the strength of her hair wrapped around them. Remembers the sounds she makes when her lips part and he delves in to taste her with his tongue. Remembers the smell of her soap and the beat of his heart. She is real. She is real. Remembers the furrow of her brow, little lines above her nose, when he opens his eyes and sees she wants this, wants him still, even now.

He is home, and he never wants to leave.

Athi pulls away only to press her forehead to his. “Come with me, ma lath. Be done.”

But the release she offers is not hers to give. The lines of her face are pleading, hopeful, then heartbroken as he steps back.

“I am so sorry,” he says, and pounds on the door. “They will be looking for the skin you wore, and that will buy you time, but you should leave. Now.”

Her eyes fill with fire and tears and defiance. “Or what? Would you have me executed?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know. “Your freedom is a mercy I need not offer. Accept it, I beg you.”

She flips up the hood of her cloak and hurries to the window.

“Wait,” he calls. “I am curious, vhenan. What was your question?”

She stops, one leg slung out over the ledge. “What question?”

“To the boy.”

“Oh. That little shit.” She sighs. “I asked if you were happy.”

And she leaves him.

[feverwildehopps]

Someone’s in the Kitchen with Spencer

Now that we’re more or less familiar with my character Spencer and his relationship with the Wilde family, I wanted to share a one-shot with you guys that I wrote about a month ago that further explores the interaction between him, Nick, and Waverly. Remember I’m not, like, a writer ^^’ but idk I think this story’s fine and it’s sweet - I had at least 5 ppl read it and I just hope by the end you all like Spencer :3

Someone’s in the Kitchen with Spencer

In Waverly's sleepy world, she rested perfectly at peace amongst all the pillows and comforters and blankets laid about the living room floor (having abandoned the ruins of a couch fort) and nothing but maybe being drowsed by cold water could possibly have woken her up. What occurred in the feverish theatrics of whimsy that enchanted her dreams were anybody's guess.

Spencer, on the other hand, could not have found himself further from the bliss of sleep and frankly, couldn't have felt more pathetic either. Sure, a sleepover with his best friend sounded like a blast, though Spencer knew all the while he'd contemplate a a predicament that had overwhelmed both his heart and mind; possessing all his thoughts and even more so once nighttime silenced his and Waverly's playful, distracting shenanigans.Coming to terms with where the night would leave him, Spencer nevertheless accepted her invitation, because heck if he ever said no to Waverly.

So there he sat, huddled into himself on the pillow-infested floor, tail curled around his legs, soaking his arms with weepy, frustrated tears..

_

Up in the master bedroom, Nick gave into his nagging nocturnal nature and slithered out of bed to get a midnight drink. Heating up a slice of blueberry pie from earlier also spiked a little encouragement.

Swiftly making his way downstairs and before departing into the kitchen, Nick stole a glance at the campsite Waverly and Spencer set up for bedtime. He noted his daughter crashed-out in slumber, the games and excitement of the evening leaving her spent, but seeing her little friend cradled into himself and whimpering had Nick blinking a couple times.

With his night-vision, Nick saw the bat-eared fox softly look up at him; his miserable expression was practically crying out for help.

Nick was just as close a friend to Spencer as Waverly was, and seeing the kit distressed was nothing new to him (he often confided internal and external problems into the older fox); Nick gently motioned for his little buddy to follow him into the kitchen.

When Spencer entered the kitchen area Nick offered a reassuring smile and a washcloth from off the oven handle to dry his tears with, then opened the fridge.

"Blueberry pie?"

Spencer nodded.

"Beer?"

Spencer huffed humorously, knowing Mr. Wilde was kidding, and a faint grin tugged at his mouth. "Milk, please."

Nick nodded, closed the fridge, heated the pie, set the slices on plates Spencer had laid on the table, and generously poured milk for the both of them.

"So, what's eating you, Pal?" Nick began after some moments of pie and silence.

Spencer only replied with silence; he was the quiet type and Nick was familiar with that.  

"Is it about anything at home?"

A slight shift of the head.

"Is it about your dad?"

The same shift.

"... Is it about Waverly?"

Spencer's shoulders dropped. "Uh huh"

"Was it something she did?"

"She didn't do anything wrong."

"How come you're upset?"

"I just... I can't figure.. anything out."

"Let it out, Spence."

Spencer knew with all his heart he could tell Mr. Wilde anything, and the more he thought about it, this was exactly the mammal who could help him out with the besetting angst that tortured him day in and day out. And yet, Mr. Wilde was probably the scariest person to share his plight with -right after Waverly. Amidst the risks, he deeply felt he needed to tell Nick what was making him anxious. Nick would make everything better; he closed his eyes, took in a calming breath, easing his panic, and laid both paws on the tabletop.

"I um... I.. love her."

Nick's eyes widened. Spencer kept his gaze locked stiffly and solely on his hands, but Nick relaxed back in the chair.

"You, like her? Like like her?"

Spencer shakily glanced this way and that as his tail thumped against the legs of his chair.

"You have a crushy-wushy on her?"

Freaking Nick was just teasing him now.

But that was better than being mad at him?

"Spencer and Wavy sitting in a tree~"

"Shhhh!! What if she hears you?!" He violently shushed, flailing his hands around to cut Nick off.

"Oh puh-leeze, only drowsing that girl with cold water could possibly wake her up."

"Well what do I do then?! Mr. Wilde, I'm losing my mind! Why did this happen to me NOW?! She and I are super young and stuff and, and, why couldn't I have fallen in love later when we're older and ready to consider, like, relationships because I know she isn't interested in that sort of thing right now and I'm gonna wait years and years for her while keeping m-my feelings on the down-low but, what about her? I don't want to get in the way of her future but if- what if Waverly falls for somebody other than me?! She's amazing and somebody's gonna love her and she's gonna love him right back! What do I do if some mammal is trying to take away my beautiful hybrid from me?! I-

... did I just say all that out loud.."

"Ohh... you've got it bad."

During his rant, Spencer rose from the table and frantically paced about the kitchen. He stood near the counter now with Nick just barely in his peripheral. Completely out of steam, the young bat-eared fox clutched his arms, hugging himself, and lowered his head. His tail stopped whipping with nerves and laid slack on the tile as if it had never ever moved in its life.

"I want more than everything to tell Waverly I love her, but I can't. Not now. And bottling up my feelings is not an option. What...am I supposed to do?"

Nick walked over to Spencer, put his hand on his shoulder, and turned the kid to face him.

"Listen buddy, everything is going to be okay. I'm here to help you deal with what you're feeling. I was exactly the same way when I realized I was in love with Judy," Nick smiled at the thought, "I just played it cool, and, tried to be as lovable as I could be. She did the rest."

"What if Waverly doesn't want me?"

"Hah, Waverly loves you. You're already her best friend and I believe you could win her heart if you tried."

"How do I do that if I can't tell her I love her?"

"That, my introverted friend, is the fun part! Until you're ready to ask her out you need to do something that's even more important than telling Waverly you love her, you ready for this... Show her you love her."

Spencer thought for a moment. His heart rate was settling down from earlier. "... Like as in, take her to our favorite places, and take pictures with her, and write for her, and... be there for her?"

"There you go, see how easy that is?"

Spencer made a bashful smile. "Can I hold her hand?"

"Well well well, look at you pulling out all the stops! I'm impressed."

For the first time in a long time Spencer could breathe again, but after taking in a yawn, he couldn't keep his eyes open for much longer.

"Thanks Mr. Wilde. If the answer is as simple as letting her know I care, and not letting her forget it, then... we're going to be okay. I'm gonna go to sleep now."

"You sure we've done enough for tonight?"

"Mhm. We're good."

"Okay, no more tears now, bud." Nick playfully tussled Spencer's beanie.

"Hmhm, Goodnight, and thanks for the pie."

"Any time."

_

After Nick departed back upstairs Spencer tip-toed over to the living room and cuddled up with the pillows littering the floor. His night-vision granted him the sweet sight of his sleeping hybrid friend. Waverly's long eyelashes fluttered, her purple nose twitched, and Spencer already couldn't wait to hear her reminisce about what she dreamed to him.

Initially Waverly fell asleep with her back facing Spencer, but she'd shifted around and her hand laid limp out in front her; just begging to be held.

Spencer took her paw in his.

_

Waverly Wilde was an early riser and this morning she had 'slept in' until 8:30am. So her body gently welcomed consciousness.

Her foggy vision followed an unfamiliar sensation down her arm until focusing on her right paw encased in Spencer's left.

The curious sentiment gave Waverly her first smile of the day.

Waverly scooted closer to Spencer without breaking their connection then she tugged his arm.

No reaction.

She tugged again.

He didn't let go.

She went for a third tug when Spencer tugged back.

"Hey! Are you ready to wake up??" she teased.

Without opening his eyes, Spencer grinned and swiftly pulled Waverly into an awkward but firm hug.

"Nope."

[carahealstheworld]

15 Things That Surprised Me My First 24 Hours In Uganda

I have now been in Uganda for a day and a half. In that time I have adjusted to the time here, exchanged money, gone shopping and a host of other things. I’m seriously trying to take this bit of time to vacation but I am learning a lot about myself and life in general. Here are the things that surprised me in the first 24 hours of being here:

1. How Quickly I Got Through Immigration- I am here on a tourist visa that is approved for 30 days. I thought there would be some long drawn out process like the ones you see in TV movies and here about from immigrants to the United States. I thought I would be grilled with questions about why I was here for a month on a tourist visa, who I was going to see, where I was staying, and all the medical supplies in my suitcase. The only questions I got were Passport? Visa? Yellow Card? Then they took my picture and sent me on my way. Overall, I was through immigration in 5 minutes or less. 

2. How Quickly I Forgot About Personal Space- Personal space is an American thing. If there are 2 strangers on an elevator, they stand on opposite ends. Two strangers on a bench, sit on opposite ends. Passing someone in public? Give them as much space as possible. Here in Uganda, all of that has gone out the window. It doesn’t bother me to be shoulder to shoulder with everyone else. Even when I’m on my phone. In general, everyone else you’re standing shoulder to should with here is minding their business and not worried about what you’re doing. 

3. Everyone Is A Friend When Everyone Is A Stranger- Since I was traveling alone, I made conversation with anyone who would talk to me. Some of those people were Americans going to other countries in Africa or areas of Uganda. Some of those people were Ugandans from different areas of the country. However, everyone was friendly. Everyone here is also a hugger. I’ve been hugged by many people here including merchants and hotel staff. They are all friends. 

4. That I Need To Learn More World Languages- The very first time that someone spoke to me in a language I didn’t understand, happened here. It was a European gentleman so I believe he thought I was from Africa and spoke to me in French (a lot of African countries speak French or do their schooling in French). I know English. I know a lot of Spanish. I know some Afrikaans (and it is very similar to English). I know very little Arabic. I know pretty much no French but I should probably get a move on it if I want to continue world traveling. The second time someone spoke to me in a language I didn’t understand, it was a security guard. I believe the language was Lugandan but I have no idea. 

5. How Quickly I Lost My Was Of Luxury- Taking a warm shower is a luxury that we often take for granted. We are used to just turning the tap and have warm water. That’s not always the case here. Sometimes water has to be warmed so you have to turn on hot water 10-15 min before you shower. I was somewhere that didn’t have that option. I took a shower anyway. It turned out, I just needed to least the water run a little but. It did eventually get warm but I really didn’t care. 

6. Telemundo...In English-So I’m not really surprised that they have TV in Africa. Nor am I surprised that they have “Junk TV” or Telemundo. However, I was surprised that they have Telemundo in English here. The signs and things on the screen are still in Spanish though. 

7.  The People Of Flint, MI (and any other place in the US with lead infested pipes) Have It More Difficult Than Some Africans- I know this is a VERY strange thing to say but I am a graduate of THEE Social Justice HBCU, Philander Smith College, so I had to mention something about social justice (and issue you a call to action since I never stop serving others). I said this one particularly because I have to brush my teeth with bottled water while I am here. Have you ever brushed your teeth with bottled water? Do you know how difficult that is when you’re used to being able to turn on the tap? I want you to try it for one week. Seven full days. Brush your teeth with bottled water because we often don’t understand what we don’t experience (and if you’re really adventurous don’t use your tap at all for a week--use only bottled water for cooking, cleaning, bathing, brushing, washing clothes, washing hair, etc. Save the receipts and find out how expensive and unrealistic it is to do everyday). Once you have, I want you to contact your senators and representatives in Washington DC. Tell them about your experience and how no Americans should have to live that way. Push them to create legislation to rectify this issue. If you don’t think this works or will work, I encourage you to watch the movie “Toilet: Ek Prem Katha.” It’s in Hindi but there are subtitles in English. You’ll understand after you watch. 

8. There’s No Reason To Fear Foreign Food- When we travel different places or even visit someone’s house who comes from a different culture, we tend to have an inherent fear of unfamiliar food. The benefit of the world being connected (or maybe the benefit of being American) is that you will always find some type of familiar food. I happened to have had eggs, bacon and toast for breakfast and a fried fish burrito bowl (yes I had Mexican food in Africa) for dinner. Don’t fear it. 

9. Most Of The Houses I’ve Seen Here Are Bigger And Nicer Than Mine- I’m not saying that there are not poor people here. I’m not saying that everyone here is rich. I’m also not saying that my family is poor (We’re not rich either so don’t be asking us for money). I’m just saying there are really nice houses here that are bigger than my house in the US. 

10. The Beauty of Simplicity-Most things here are pretty simple. There are some elaborate things but for the most part its simple and beautiful. There’s simple locks. Simple doors. Simple gates with guards. Simply beautiful simplicity. 

11. Police Guns-It wasn’t surprising to me that the police here carry guns. After all, I am American, I haven’t been living under a rock and we have many issues with police use of force and firearms (This isn’t a political statement or my opinion. Look at the numbers compared to other countries of the same or larger size. The numbers tell all). What surprised me was the size of the guns. Police here carry riffles. They have guns the size of their leg at their waist. 

12. There’s Literally Security Everywhere- When my professor came inside the airport to meet me, she had to through a metal detector. That was just to walk inside the airport. She wasn’t coming through security to meet me at my gate or see me through immigration. She was just coming inside the door to walk me to the car to the hotel. It didn’t end there though. We went to the mall as well and also had to go through security. Although it didn’t happen in the first 24 hours, we also had to go through security at church and a fancy hotel we briefly visited. At church and the hotel they also checked the car we were in. 

13. My Adaptability-People have always told me that I am quite adaptable. They say it in letters of recommendation and it even showed up as one of my strengths in Strengths Finder. So why did it surprise me? Because everything became so normalized to me almost immediately. Driving on the left and passing on the right? Normal. Everyone hugging me as if they haven’t seen me in years? Normal. Majority of people looking like me? Normal. I’ve just adapted super quickly and it’s surprised me.

14. The Bugs Here Clap Back- So I will tell the entire story later but for now, I will say that there was something squirming in my room in the shadows. I had no idea if it was a small snake or a bug. It turned out to be a bug and it clapped back when I tried to get it out. It turned in to a huge ordeal. Security and the hotel manager ended up coming to help. 

Number 15 is really for Millennials. I will caution you that there is some censored language in this one because it is in a common phrase. So if you want to stop reading now, I will not be offended. If you do keep reading and later find yourself offended, DO NOT attempt to contact my parents, another elder relative, my pastor or whoever else to discuss your disdain. You. Were. Warned. 

15. I Learned Where The Phrase “Black People S**t” Came From- This one adds a little more comedy to the already comical bug incident that occurred (which I promise to recap). So we’re driving around Kampala, the capital city of Uganda. I’m taking in the sites, the people and the buildings. I’m looking at traffic and people randomly gathering and everything else I was seeing. My literal though was, “This is some black people s**t.” And I mean that in the best way possible. It’s like all the stuff that we do in America that we call “n***a rigged” or “black people s**t” is written in our DNA and has been passed down to us for centuries. I’m serious. I wish you could see my face as I type this and hear me say this. I was literally watching people gather on the side of the street to eat food and party. I promise you they were having a cookout. They have what they call bodabodas (motor bike taxis) here. Y’all know most motorcycles can have 1 driver and 1 passenger. I bet you never seen a whole family ride on one though! I have and bodas are a little smaller than motorcycles. You’d be surprised at how many people can fit on one. Like how some of y’all try to squeeze your entire lineage in the back seat of a car. And the traffic. Y’all! These bodas drive wherever! Get in where you fit in at its finest. They don’t stop for traffic signals. If there’s a space between cars for the to drive in they do. If they have to drive on a side walk they will. It’s just the blackest thing you have ever seen or heard of. Why? These are OUR people. We do black people s**t and think nothing of. 

I hope you keep reading to learn more about my adventures. 

Bug story and pictures coming soon!

Be Blessed!!!!

[wantisamlindyla]

strong and sudden and cruel sometimes

Summary:

Last year during summer El had been stuck in the cabin with only a noisy fluttering fan for company and the summer months had dragged on endlessly.

For El, who had grown up in a temperature controlled windowless room with neat rows of white tiles and to whom things like the wind, sunshine, rain and snow had only been concepts she had read about in storybooks, the relentless heat and humidity had been almost unbearable. _______

A collection of memories from El's perspective during the summer of 1985.

Read on Ao3

strong and sudden and cruel sometimes

1985

Hawkins was experiencing a record breaking heat wave, according to the weatherman on the news.

Last year during summer El had been stuck in the cabin with only a noisy fluttering fan for company and the summer months had dragged on endlessly.

For El, who had grown up in a temperature controlled windowless room with neat rows of white tiles and to whom things like the wind, sunshine, rain and snow had only been concepts she had read about in storybooks, the relentless heat and humidity had been almost unbearable.

Some days, after Hopper had left for work and the temperature climbed steadily, she had lain on the floor of the cabin (the doors and windows tightly shut) next to the noisy fan struggling to breathe.

But then the day would pass, the sun would set, the sweat on her skin would cool, and Hopper would come home, sometimes with a tub of ice cream or ice cold sodas, asking her how her day had been before rumbling sympathetically and affectionately touseling her short hair.

This year though, summer had been different.

Hopper had come home one day in May to tell El he had bought a home for them closer to town and that they would be moving from the cabin to live there, permanently.

El had been surprised, her dinner lay forgotten on the table between them as she contemplated the idea of living somewhere that wasn’t the cabin, which was quiet and safe (even if it had started to feel like a new prison last year) and was the first real home she had known.

Hopper must have been able to read her expression, he reached over and chucked her under the chin.

“Hey, what’s with the long face? I thought you’d be over the moon to get out of here. It’ll be great, you get your own bathroom, you won’t have me snoring right outside your bedroom every night anymore, it’s got air conditioning, and, you’ll be closer to your friends.”

At this, El immediately perked up, “Closer to Mike?”

Hopper had rolled his eyes and took a sip from his beer. “Well I’m on a public servant salary so it’s not next to the Wheelers’ place but it’s closer than you are now. The kids won’t have to ride their bikes all the way out here anymore every time they visit. Actually, you’ll be closest to Will.”

El liked Will.

Hopper had taken her with him to the Byers’ for dinner after the gate had been closed. El had a feeling it had been Joyce who had talked Hopper into it, because during dinner she’d piled up El’s plate with pasta, salad and bread and shot Hopper recriminating looks when El told her most nights, she prepared dinner for her and Hop with the microwave.

After that the dinners became a weekly event. Sometimes the boys and Nancy were also there, and she and Mike held hands under the table during dinner. But most of the time, it was just Hopper, Joyce, Will, Jonathan and her.

Jonathan was nice. He was quiet, like her. And he let her and Will rifle through his cassette tapes and look at his books.

The best thing about those dinners, other than the home cooked meals, was just sitting in Will’s room after dinner while Hopper and Joyce smoked and talked in the kitchen. El would watch him draw or listen to him tell her about the boys’ most recent campaign or what had happened at school that week. If silence fell, she’d return to her book and they both sat there quietly, content to just be close to each other.

The thought of living close to Will cheered her immensely, and her curiosity overrided her concerns and she started to pepper Hopper with questions.

Hopper said they would move in a few weeks’ time. He had already told some people at the Station that he had met his daughter, Jane, only last year and that she was now coming to live with him in Hawkins. He told them he hadn’t known about his daughter until last year but her mom couldn’t look after her anymore so she would be living with him from now on.

Hopper said the hardest lies to catch were those which aren't actually lies. Tell the truth as much as possible, but leave a false impression and the person would fill up the gaps on their own.  

They moved into their new home just before summer started.

Her new room was easily twice the size of her old room at the cabin. The wallpaper was covered with big yellow flowers and there were two windows facing the street.

She even had her own bathroom which was covered in pink tiles.

She barely had enough furniture to fill up the room. After she’d finished unpacking the boxes, taking out the few toys and books she had accumulated over the past two years and stacking it on the shelf and on her new bedside table, the room felt too big and too bare.

Later that night she fell into bed exhausted.

The new bedroom was unfamiliar, her window was open and she could hear the late night news playing on the television next door. She tensed a little every time a car passed by the house. She missed the deep still silence of the woods. (Love this!)

Hopper came in after a while to kiss her forehead and say, ‘Night kid,” the bristles of his beard scratched her skin. The scent of cigarettes and soap on him was comforting and familiar. (Omg. Love this).

As she started to drift off to sleep, the thought came to her that the cabin had just been a place where she’d lived, it hadn’t really been her home.

***

As the days passed the heat that El was dreading returned with a vengeance.

However, this year she wasn’t stuck in the cabin with only fan and the television for company, these summer days were filled with noise.

There were trips on the back of Mike’s bike to the arcade and afternoons filled with the boys and Max yelling over each other’s shoulders while they played games.   

There were arguments, swearing, laughter and jokes El didn’t really understand over ice-cream sundaes and milkshakes.

There were fireworks, a parade, and music on the Fourth of July.

There were multiple trips to the Hawk to see Back to the Future, and fighting over popcorn in the cool dark cinema.

One day they went to the quarry to swim.

El sat on the shore with Mike and watched the boys and Max play chicken in the water.

Will sat on Dustin’s shoulders and Max on Lucas’ trying to wrestle as they shrieked and laughed. El felt something twist inside her at the sight of Max’s long red hair falling over her freckled shoulders and the way she seemed to fit right in with the boys’ noise in a way that El did not.

She wasn’t sure how to be around Max.

They treated each other cordially when they were with the party, but they both seemed to make a conscious effort never to be left alone with the other.

They were like two satellites, caught in the gravity of the party, coolly orbiting the boys without ever coming into contact with the other.

But there were times, for instance when the boys got caught up arguing over time travel theory in Back to the Future, her and Max’s eyes would meet and El could see her own exasperation mirrored there. In those moments El had felt something like regret that she didn’t accept Max’s outstretched hand the night they met.

She looked over at Mike who was sitting next to her and inspecting his sunburnt shoulders with resignation. He sighed and said, “My Mom’s going to kill me.” He pulled his t-shirt over his reddened torso.

Mike had gotten so so tall over the past few months. He hadn’t cut his hair for a few months and the ends were curling from being in the water and the heat. He lay back on his towel with a wince. El followed him, lying down on her side with her head propped up on her elbow, she was so close she could count every freckle sprinkled on his nose and cheeks.

“El?”

“Yes?”

“My mom asked if you could come over for dinner next week.”

“With the party?”

“No, just you.”

El pondered this for a moment and before asking Mike why she was invited to dinner and the rest of the party were not.

Mike looked a bit sheepish and ran his fingers through his messy curls. “It’s Holly’s fault. Remember the other night when we were saying goodbye on the stairs?”

“Yes?”

“Holly went and told Mom last night that she saw us kissing. So my Mom turned it into a big deal and asked me if you were my girlfriend and started grilling me about how long we’d been dating and all this embarrassing stuff. Then she made me invite you over for dinner next Saturday.”

“Why does she want me to come over for dinner?”

Mike shrugged, “I dunno, to get to know you better I guess?”

She’d been over to Mike’s house for a few times with the party. They’d all stayed in the basement watching movies and Mike’s mom had only occasionally come down to ask Mike to go upstairs and help her with snacks.

Hopper always came to Mike’s house to pick El up even though the rest of the party was staying over for a sleepover. El had made sure to thank Mike’s mom for having her over and Mrs. Wheeler had smiled warmly and said she was welcome anytime.

When El had asked if she could stay over at Mike’s house next time Hopper had looked at her sideways and said flatly, “Nope.”

El had asked why. Hopper had replied, “Because I’m not letting my teenage daughter sleep over at her boyfriend’s house that’s why.”

El had pointed out that Max was allowed to sleep over. Hopper had said, “Yeah well, Max’s parents don’t know that Wheeler once managed to convince Max and the others to take an illegal joyride in her brother’s muscle car and climb into monster infested tunnels to set them on fire.”

“He did that to help us!” El had said crossly, annoyed at Hopper’s implication that Mike was dumb or reckless when in fact, Mike was very smart, brave, loyal, kind, and cute, he was very cute-

Hopper had only sighed, “Look El, I don’t tell Max’s parents how to look after their kid and they don’t tell me how to parent you. No sleepovers at Mike’s.”

Later that night as she was trying to fall asleep El thought about Mrs. Wheeler’s invitation to dinner. On Days of Our Lives, when the Hortons hadn’t approved of Don’s girlfriend they had plotted ways to keep Don away from Marlena.

With a sudden start of alarm, El thought of Mrs. Wheeler’s always perfect hair and clothes and her tidy home that looked like it was straight of a magazine.

What if Mrs. Wheeler asked El a question that she couldn’t answer? What if she answered wrong? What if Mrs. Wheeler decided El wasn’t smart enough, or she looked too much like a boy, or that she was just too odd for her son? What if she told Mike that he wasn’t allowed to see her anymore?

***

The party had gone to Steve’s house for a pool party a few days later when the temperature soared into the high nineties.

Dustin had said that Steve’s parents were away on a business trip and that Steve would be cool about it.

In actual fact, Steve had been annoyed, but he’d still let them in and turned on the outdoor grill to make them hotdogs and burgers while Dustin started a belly flopping competition.

El’s tummy was still sore hours later when the sun started to set.

She wrapped a towel around herself and made her way towards the house in search of Mike who had gone inside for a soda.

She was about to step into the kitchen when she realised Hopper was there in the kitchen and that he was talking to Mike.

“-risk, if they recognise her-”

“I can handle it. I can manage my parents. Nancy will be there too. I’ve already talked to her about it. If they start asking too many questions Nancy’s going to tell them that she’s thinking about not going to college to distract them.”

Hopper groaned, “Jesus, I feel for your parents kid.”

Mike ignored this and told Hopper, “Nancy also said that she and Jonathan can take us to the fair this weekend. El’s never been before right?”

“You know kid, this trick you keep using on me isn’t going to work forever.”

“What trick?”

“The guilt trips. El’s never been camping before, El’s never been to the fair before, El’s never seen the same movie three times in a cinema before. And you can quit badgering Joyce about getting me to agree to let El stay over at Will’s place.”

“I just...you know, I just want her to get to do everything, to be happy. She never really laughs you know. She tells me she’s having fun, but I’m not sure if she really is or not.”

“She’s not like you or me kid, she’s different. All this is new to her, you have to give her time to find her footing. Her happiness is not on you, it's not your burden to bear. ”

El slipped away silently, not wanting to hear anymore.

***

“C’mon El, lunch is ready.” El leaned down to kiss her mother’s soft cheek before heading to the doorway where Hopper was hovering.

El had come back to visit her Mama six times since her first visit last November. She came with Hopper now, instead of with nice men in big trucks, and usually on a Saturday afternoon.

Hopper had stopped at a gas station on the way in today, so El could buy a bunch of flowers for Mama. The bunch of bright yellow daffodils were resting in a glass jar on the table near the TV (“So she can look at them everyday,” Aunt Becky had said).

Mama had not spoken to her since El’s first visit, even when El visited her in the void.

El used to do that a lot, sometimes during the weeks they didn’t visit, El would visit her mother in the void.

She wanted Mama to look her in the eyes again and say, ‘Jane,’ like she did before, but she never did.

El knew Mama was there though, and that she knew when El was there.

Sometimes, when she visited she brushed Mama’s hair or just sat quietly with her mother and watched TV.

Most of the time though, El would talk. She told Mama how she had visited Hopper at the police station for the first time last week and how Ms. Florence had hugged El and told El she was such a pretty girl.

She told Mama how excited she was to be starting school with her friends soon, and all about the pool party and that tomorrow, she and her friends were going to the County Fair.

Sometimes she whispered in Mama’s ear secrets about Mike that she told nobody else.

She told Mama that she and Mike had gone to see Back to the Future at the movie theatre again, but because she had already seen it two times (three times for Mike) and because it was just the two of them, they spent the entire movie kissing in the back row of the theatre.

Today, she also told Mama that Mike had asked her to come for dinner to meet his parents, and that she was scared to meet Mike’s parents because she was worried about saying or doing something wrong and they would know that she was different and that she wished Mama could meet Mike and that Mama would love Mike because he was her best friend in the entire world. (So heartbreaking.  Bbut beautiful.)

The visits didn’t last too long since it was a long drive back to Hawkins.

After about an hour she’d join Aunt Becky and Hopper in the kitchen. Then after lunch it’d be time to go home.

El padded into the next room to find Aunt Becky waiting. “I’ve fixed the hem of that skirt for you sweetie.”

El had been worried her Aunt would be angry at her for stealing money from her purse and running away without a word. But all Aunty Becky had done when she saw El again was give her a big hug.

“I was so scared I’d never find you again Jane.”

El had hugged her back surprised at the rush of emotion she felt at seeing her Aunt again, she who had offered her a home with her so readily, and forgiven her just as quickly.

During that visit, while holding Mama’s and Aunt Becky’s hands, she had explained that she wanted to stay in Hawkins with Hopper and Mike and her friends. Aunt Becky had simply nodded, hugged her again, and made her promise to visit often.

El took the bundle of clothes her Aunt had finished mending and placed them carefully in her backpack. “Thank you.”

Aunt Becky made them real mac and cheese (not out of a box) for lunch which El washed down with ice cold root beer while they chatted about El’s trip to the county fair tomorrow.

Aunt Becky slipped El twenty dollars as they were leaving and told her to have a good time at the fair tomorrow.

El waved at her from the window of Hopper’s Blazer as Hopper backed out of the long driveway.

El was leaning her head against the car window, feeling tired and sad, the way she usually felt after visits to her mother when Hopper asked, “You okay kid?”

El didn’t answer. She had been thinking about what it would have been like to grow up in that house with Mama and Aunt Becky and whether she would have grown up to be normal and known how to laugh when she was supposed to.

El conjured up in her mind, a version of herself who hadn’t grown up in a lab, who talked without having to carefully think about her words, laughed without reserve and knew all the right things to say to Mrs Wheeler to get her to like her without having to lie or leave false impressions.

El felt her chest grow heavy and her throat felt scratchy, like she needed to cry.

She hated that fake El, that El who was better than her in every way, that El who was a normal girlfriend that Mike didn’t have to worry over and would probably never get sick of when she became too much of a burden for him to bear.

***

Hopper dropped her off at the Wheelers early the next morning before leaving for the station.

Mrs. Wheeler had opened the door for El and her greeting had been different than usual. Instead of directing El to the basement she steered El to the kitchen and poured her a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and asked her questions like how she was liking Hawkins so far and whether she liked meatloaf and what kind of pie was her favourite.

El was rescued by Mike barrelling into the kitchen and ushering her to the basement before she could admit that she had liked Mrs Wheeler’s meatloaf very much when Mike had brought her some during her stay in the Wheeler’s home but she didn’t like pie that much and preferred eggos.

“So are we clear on the plan? We check out sideshow alley first, then deep fried boulevard, then there’s the afternoon pie eating contest, then we’ll do the corn maze before we head to the farm exhibits.”

Mike considered the large map of the county fair spread out on his basement table with the gravity of a five star General who was summarising his battle plans to the small war council gathered around his basement table.

“Why are we leaving the corn maze to the end when it’s right next to sideshow alley?” Lucas’ finger landed on the cartoon green maze on the map.

“Because last time we got stuck in there for ages before we’d eaten lunch. Remember? Dustin tried to eat the dried-out corn husks.”

“Hey! I will have you know that corn husks are one of the main ingredients for tamales.”

“You don’t actually eat the husks, it’s just the wrapping you moron,” Lucas laughed. Their bickering quickly devolved into a shoving and wrestling match.

El looked over the map that Mike passed her, pushing her glasses up her nose.

Ever since her “arrival” in Hawkins a few months ago, she’d started wearing glasses in public in the hopes that people she had previously encountered (like the Big Buy Manager or that woman with her young daughter) would find it difficult to connect the Chief’s shy and polite young daughter who had curly brown hair and glasses to the suspicious Russian child with mind powers.

Dustin had assured her that the glasses were a very cool superhero disguise, like Clark Kent. Lucas had said that now El looked like she fit in with their party.

Mike started to fold up his map of the fair grounds and put it away in his backpack. “Did the plan sound ok El? I wanted you to be able to try everything.”

El nodded quickly, “Yes, I want to try everything too. It’ll be fun.”

***

The fair was overwhelming.

The smells were the first thing that assaulted her; animal excrement, human sweat, sweet hay, baking pastries and buttered popcorn wafted past her as they got deeper into the fairgrounds.

Then there was the sounds, underneath the usual hum of conversations between people there were people screaming (happy screaming), loud music, babies sobbing, parents scolding their children all the while announcements about the sheep shearing competition blared at them over the loudspeakers.

Jonathan and Nancy had quickly faded into the crowd after making plans to meet up with them at the fairground entrance at the end of the day.

All of the carnival rides were garishly coloured and had funny names. El rode a rollercoaster called the Rampage which left her with sore neck due to its jarring stops and starts. Then she rode a ride called The Twister which spun her in tight circles while the arm the seats were attached to spun in larger circles. El had to sit down on the grass with her head between her legs for a long time before the world would stop spinning.

Then they paired off to go on the bumper cars. El was left slightly traumatised by the experience.

Dustin, Lucas and Max had conspired and formed some kind of unholy alliance and created a triangle around Mike and El’s car so that they couldn’t get away from any of them. Everytime Mike backed up and tried to go in another direction they slammed into one of their friends.

“Going somewhere lovebirds?” Max had cackled like a deranged movie villain as she rammed her car repeatedly into theirs.

After the bumper cars El looked over longingly at the gentle carousel ride which seemed to be for younger children.

Mike had gotten into a wrestling match with Dustin and Lucas over being ambushed while Max egged the boys on and Will had been so quiet most of the day she almost didn’t notice him standing next to her until he asked, “El?”

She looked around. Will gestured towards the next ride the party was planning on going on which involved being strapped to a seat that took you very high up in the sky and dropped you straight down back to the ground.

“I don’t think I really want to go on that one. Do you wanna wait with me?”

El hesitated, wondering if Mike would be disappointed if she didn’t want to go on the next ride. He had planned the entire day so meticulously to please her. She didn’t want to tell him that the thought of going on another ride made her break out into cold sweats, but Will was offering her a way to avoid this next ride at least, so El agreed.

Mike was concerned of course, asking El if she wanted to go on the ride and offering to stay back with Will in her stead but El assured him that it was fine.

While the others stood in line, Will said he wanted to get corn on the cob from a nearby food truck. El got one too, slathered in butter and salt. They sat on the grass in a shaded area to eat and wait.

“You don’t have to keep going on all the rides if you don’t want to El.”

El hesitated, but her instinct told her that anything she said to Will would be kept between the two of them. “Mike wants me to try everything.”

Will gave her a small smile, “Mike wants to enjoy yourself. He doesn’t want you to do something if you don’t want to. He’d be even more upset if he realised you were going along with everything just so you don’t disappoint him.”

“But…” El was still unsure, “He has everything planned already.”

Will shrugged, “He’ll throw his plans out the window the minute you say the word.”

El wasn’t too sure what window Will was referring too but she understood what Will was trying to tell her. She looked longingly over at the carousel again.

Will followed her line of sight.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He took one last bite of his corn before he stood up and brushed off his shorts.

El hesitated, “But...that’s for babies.”

Will smiled, “Who says? Even if it is, who cares?”

The line for the carousel was very short. El chose a white horse with a pink bridle and Will climbed onto a zebra next to her.

El loved it. She spent most of the ride watching the little girl seated on a nearby horse waving and shrieking at her mother who snapped photos of her daughter every time they passed her.

Mike and the rest of the Party were waiting for them when they got off the carousel.

Mike was frowning and pulled her gently aside to ask her if she didn’t want to go on the next rides. El didn’t want to lie, so she told Mike honestly, “They make my head hurt.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You spent so much time planning the day.”  

“El, forget about the plan. I want to do whatever you want to do.”

Mike was so earnest and his voice was soft, not angry or disappointed. El told him honestly, “I want to go see the farm animals.”

So they did.

After that, the day passed by in a blur.

El got her face painted to look like a fairy even though the only girls she saw with the glitter face paint were a lot younger than her. Dustin got his face painted too so that El wouldn’t feel self-conscious about the only one in the group having her face painted.

Of course he was a lion and they all had to put up with him purring and batting his hand at them like a paw during the rest of the day.

They saw all the farm animals. El got very excited when she found out about the baby farm animal petting zoo. She fell in love with the baby llama she was allowed to cuddle and feed a bottle of milk.

Then the party went to get lunch on deep fried boulevard.

El had a chocolate milkshake, barbequed ribs, a deep fried twinkie, fairy floss, and shared funnel cake with Will.

She also ate small pieces of spicy fried chicken, and tried a corn dog, which El found gross.

They watched a pie eating contest and got lost in the corn maze.

There was a new ride which was the main attraction at the fair called “Gravity Fall” modelled after a machine that astronauts trained in before they could go into space.

For some reason the boys and Max got into a debate about whether any of them could survive astronaut training at NASA which led to a corn dog eating slash ride contest whereby whomever ate the most corn dogs and went on the Gravity Fall ride the most times without puking would be declared the winner.

Will decided to sit out the contest because he said he didn’t want to waste his money on corn dogs which he would inevitably throw up.

Mike and Lucas both had to tap out of the contest four corndogs and three rides in. El cradled Mike’s head in her lap while he moaned and complained about his stomach.

Max was declared the winner after five rides when Dustin stumbled out and ran over to the nearest trash can and promptly emptied his stomach.

“NASA here I come!” Max hollered, punching the air.

***

Mike and Lucas set off towards the medical tent with a green tinged Dustin propped up between them. Max trailed after them because she said she felt like the needed to revel in her glorious victory over Dustin some more.

They decided on a plan to meet up at the grassy knoll beside the ferris wheel in half an hour’s time.

El was left with Will who asked her if she wanted to go have a look at the fairground games.

They wandered around the brightly lit games before Will stopped beside a shooting game to watch the people play.

The sun was starting to set and it had dropped several degrees. El rubbed her arms and watched as a boy who looked about the same age as Jonathan try to shoot down several little targets shaped like people while the watchers cheered. He managed to get 3 out of the 8 little targets before he ran out of pellets. He laughed good naturedly and selected a small stuffed animal and presented to his girlfriend who squealed and laughed.

El looked up at the range of stuffed animals hung up and displayed around the game stand and admired a huge teddy bear, at least three feet tall, with a snazzy pink polka-dot bowtie displayed prominently above their heads.

She turned back to Will and asked him if it was possible for someone to win the stuffed bear.

“I think you have to get all the targets, but nobody ever does.”

“Why?”

“Oh, because the games are rigged,” he explained. “That’s what my mom told me anyways, they do something to make it impossible for people to make the last target fall over. It makes people want to keep trying so they keep paying.”

El frowned. “That’s cheating.”

Will shrugged, “Yeah, it’s totally unfair.”

Then Will surprised her by stepping forward and handing over a few dollar bills and picking up a rifle which was chained to the counter.

El followed him in confusion, “I thought you said…”

“I know,” Will told her calmly, “but it’s still fun to play sometimes.”

Will was really good. He managed to get five of the little people targets to fall over.

El wondered if she should have whooped, jumped and cheered for Will like Max would have, but she did clap as hard as she could along with some other onlookers.

Will smiled a little shyly at the attention. He chose a fluffy rainbow coloured unicorn and held it out to El.

“Here El, that’s for you.”

El took the stuffed unicorn gingerly, already half in love with the oddly coloured toy, not for any reason other than it was from Will. She smiled at him and started to say thank you when a loud obnoxious voice rang out.

“Hey guys look at that! Ain’t that sweet? The fairy got himself a fairy girlfriend!”

El and Will spun around. El’s eyes widened at the sight of Troy and a group of teenage boys jeering at Will.

El instinctively reached to adjust the glasses on her nose to make sure they were there in case Troy recognised her, but he was too busy laughing, nudging his friends and pointing at Will to really notice her.

Her face paint probably helped as well.

Her panic faded and anger took its place when his words sunk in.

Will’s smile faded and his shoulders hitched up to his ears like he wanted to disappear. He started to move away but Troy purposely shoved Will aside as he walked up to the game stand and picked up a rifle. “Let me show you how a real man shoots, fairy.”

Will took El’s elbow and tugged. “C’mon El.”

But El refused to budge. A white-hot ball of rage was rolling around in her tummy.

Fairy.

She remembered that word.

She remembered how Troy had taunted Mike that Will was somewhere with all the other fairies when everyone was supposed to be grieving and sad that Will had drowned.

Not Troy though. He’d laughed and made snide comments about Will that El hadn’t understood all through the principal’s speech in the school gym.

El didn’t need to understand what the boy was saying, she gathered enough from Mike’s, Lucas’ and Dustin’s faces to know what he was saying about their friend was ugly and cruel and it made them angry.

Angry enough for Mike to walk up to him afterwards and shove him to the ground.  

She hated this boy. Hated how he liked to make others feel smaller than him. She hated that he had used to hurt and bully Mike and her friends and that he was still hurting Will.

The rage inside her hardened and turned to steely resolve.

She turned to Will and said calmly. “Will, can you try to win the bear for me?”

Will frowned and looked up at the stuffed bear where it was hanging. “El...it’s not-,”

“Just try.”

She pulled Will along with her up to an empty space next to the Mouth breather. She handed over three dollars and shoved the rifle into Will’s hands.

Will frowned at her, but picked up the rife while he studiously ignoring the catcalls coming over from Troy’s dumb friends while Troy laughed and taunted him.

El concentrated as both the boys lifted their rifles to take aim.

Plink! Plink! Plink! Plink! Plink! Plink! Plink! Plink!

All eight of Will’s targets fell over one after the other.

(Actually the last one had been set up to be quite difficult to knock over just as Will had said).

Will lowered his rifle in shock as the people around the stand erupted into cheers. His eyes shot over to El who gave him a little smile while she surreptitiously wiped at her nose.

He looked over to where Troy was staring at his rifle, his own eight targets standing defiantly upright.

“Holy Shit!”

“Woah, this kid’s got some skills!”

The spotty teenager handling the rifle stand handed over the big teddy bear and Will started to hurry El away leaving behind a red faced Troy who had started to hurl abuse at the teenager about rigged games.

El hefted the huge stuffed bear in her arms like a small child and Will graciously accepted congratulations and slaps on the back from strangers as they maneuvered themselves away from the crowd.

“El….” Will was holding onto the unicorn for her. El braced herself for admonitions and was surprised when she heard Will snort.

El stopped in her tracks as Will erupted into hysterical giggles. “Did you-did you see his stupid face?”

Their eyes met, and El recalled the look on Troy’s face as he stared slack jawed and speechless at Will’s knocked down targets and then she was laughing too.

She stood there in the middle of the fair, the sun setting rapidly behind the horizon, and she laughed until tears ran down her cheeks and her sides ached and she could barely stay upright. Every time they stopped, it only took their eyes to meet before they started up again.

***

Sometime later, as they started to head for the ferris wheel, El said to Will, “Can you...not tell the others I used my powers?”

Will looked at her in surprise. “How come?”

El bit her lip guiltily, “I promised Hopper I wouldn’t. And I think….Mike won’t like it.”

Will considered this for a moment. “He worries about you.”

She understood.

Mike and Hopper were both worried and afraid for her. El had promised she wouldn’t use her powers or draw attention to herself and promises were sacred things that you could never break.

But El remembered the sneer on Troy’s face and the way Will’s face had turned to stone at his words and felt a fierce pride that she could use her powers to make Will laugh until he cried.

Most days she felt like her powers were a curse, a lodestone hung around her neck which meant that she was different and set her apart from her friends. But not today, today her powers had felt like a gift, not a cumbersome weight pulling her down.

Will stopped walking and turned to her. “Hey,” he said gently, “Thank you. El. That was...really cool.”

He stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, squishing the teddy bear between their bodies. El held on to him tight. “Thanks for, you know, having my back. Again.”

When he let her go, El looked at him, really looked at him. He had grown a lot taller since last year, but he was still so skinny. The perpetual eyebags he sported had taken up residence and faded into violet bruises on his too pale skin.

El took his hand and gave it a squeeze, and promised him solemnly, “I will always have your back Will. Always.” Then. “Thank you for my unicorn and my bear.”

They shared a grin.

Promises were important. But what had happened at the shooting stand had nothing to do with breaking a promise, and everything to do with helping a friend, and El thought that that made all the difference in the world.

Will and El arrived to find that the rest of the Party were already there waiting for them. Dustin was looking a lot better, taking gentle sips from a bottle a nurse in the medical tent had given him.

El’s new teddy bear caused quite a commotion amongst the party. Will said he had gotten lucky with no mention of Troy. Will was showered with praise and back slaps and it took El a moment to realise Mike was eyeing the enormous teddy bear with something like dismay.

El immediately thought that that Mike had seen right through Will’s story before her eyes were drawn to the pink ball of fluff he was clutching in his hands. He sighed and held it out to her. It was a stuffed llama just like the one she had been cooing over at the petting zoo.

El’s eyes widened. She quickly turned to Lucas and hurriedly shoved her teddy into his arms so that she could take the stuffed llama. Mike shoved his hands awkwardly into his pockets. “It’s no big deal, I won it at the ring toss.”

“Yeah, no big deal,” Lucas scoffed, “He spent like twenty bucks trying to get that for you El.”

Mike rolled his eyes, but El felt funny, like her insides were turning to hot liquid and pooling in her tummy. She couldn’t stop the pleased blush she knew was spreading over her cheeks and neck that everyone would be able to see.

“Mike,” she raised herself up to her toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, not caring that all their friends was sniggering and that Mike looked extremely embarrassed. “Thank you. I love my llama.”

Will called out, “Hey, I didn’t get a kiss.” That comment, coming from Will of all people, caused everyone but Mike to burst out laughing.

When her giggles died down, El found Mike staring at her with a funny look on his face.

She tucked a strand of hair around her ear self consciously, “What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. Mike took El’s hand and gestured to the Ferris Wheel. “Do you wanna go? It’s pretty slow and you can see the whole fair from the top.”

El smiled at him, “Yes.”

She took the stuffed llama with her and left her teddy in the care of Dustin who used it as a pillow while he was resting on the grass.

They ran into Jonathan and Nancy while lining up for the Ferris Wheel. Nancy smirked at her brother and gave El a friendly smile. “Hey there pretty fairy, did you have fun today?”

“Yes,” El said, really meaning it. She held up her llama to show Nancy, “Mike won me a llama at the ring toss. And Dustin threw up from eating too many corn dogs.”

Jonathan and Nancy let her and Mike go in front of them in the line. Mike opened the door of their car to let her get in first before ducking in after her.

Mike’s arm went around her shoulders automatically as their little car rocked gently at first before it steadily began its ascent.

El peeked out of the side to see that the whole fair was lit up with fairy lights and the noise grew fainter the higher up they moved.

She snuggled closer to Mike, tucking her head under his chin and closed her eyes, enjoying the steady beat of his heart and this rare opportunity to be alone with him.

“El.” She smiled, her eyes still closed.

“Mike.”

She felt him shift to look down at her. “I...I’m glad you’re here. With me. With all of us.”

“Me too.”

“Were you happy today?” El opened her eyes and peeked up at his solemn face.

“The happiest.”

“I wish you could to be happy like this. Everyday.”

“Mike,” El sat up so she could look at him while they talked. “Nobody can be happy like this everyday.”

“You should be. You deserve it, you deserve...everything.”

El stilled.

She looked up at Mike’s serious expression, feeling something big building up inside her, a huge cluster of emotions that felt too explosive and too volatile for her body to contain.

It frightened her a little, this feeling, it felt like it could spill out of her and swallow the Earth whole.

She didn’t know what she could say to him to express how she felt at that moment, how much she felt for him, so she kissed him.

It helped a bit, to feel his lips, his shaky exhale against her skin, to wind her fists in the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer to her. It grounded her.

When they pulled apart sometime later they realised they were coming close back to the ground. They unglued themselves from each other sharing shy but pleased smiles.

When they met up with the party again, she saw Will stealthily make a face wiping motion at Mike.

Mike quickly swiped at his cheek and stared when his fingers came away covered in glitter. El tried to smother a giggle when Mike tugged up the collar of his shirt to wipe at his face.

He spun around when he heard her, a big smile on his face.

El just made a face at him. She was more than a little embarrassed that Mike was so excited to hear her do something that most people did everyday.

“You’ve still got glitter on your chin.” She told him smugly.

***

One morning, El woke up huddled under her blankets, and realised that the transition to autumn had already begun.

Over breakfast, Hopper told her she had better clean up the mess in her room if she wanted to go out with the Byers to get her school supplies later.

Surprised, El went to her bedroom to look at the mess Hopper was referring to.

The teddy that Will had won for her at the fair was lying face down in the middle of the room at the foot of her bed. She hadn’t made up her bed yet, and her stuffed unicorn and llama were tangled up in the bedsheets.

Mike’s blue jacket which she had borrowed from him last night along with yesterday’s t-shirt, bra, and shorts were hanging haphazardly off her desk chair.

Some shopping bags containing new clothes, a new backpack and shoes for school were lying carelessly around her bedroom.

Her camping gear from last week’s camping trip was still sitting in the corner waiting to be unpacked.

The vanity she’d recently inherited from Nancy had scrunchies and hair clips strewn across the surface.

Dustin had come over yesterday to teach her to play poker (because apparently she had an amazing poker face and if Dustin taught El how to count cards they could go on a trip to Vegas and come home rich) and the cards and plastic chips were still scattered in small piles on the floor.

A stack of photographs which she’d recently received from Jonathan was spread out over her desk where she had been sorting through them last night before bed.

There were so many photos of her smiling at the camera with her friends from their adventures over the past few months, she had been trying to decide which ones she wanted to hang up in her room.

She’d decided then that all the photos would go up on her walls so that she could treasure every single precious memory of Jane Hopper’s first summer in Hawkins.

THE END