#the way the areas change! can’t wait to explore it myself!

[thehappiestgolucky]

Ah fuck now there’s rain world brainworms-

[arachnixe]

A Cage Of Gold

(Part 2 of The New Goddess - Previous: Small Minded)

Clouds break in slow motion upon the walls of the crystal palace. The grand structure floats high in the sky, far above a kingdom bathed in the rays of the morning sun.

The view is stunning from up here. It’s like eating breakfast on the sky’s shoreline. Almost hard to imagine that not so long ago I was one of those tiny specks struggling for survival down below, in the streets of a city that looks very different from this vantage.

I can’t say I miss that life.

Standing up, I leave the table behind me. A backward glance reveals the dishes have already been removed, as has the table I was just using and the window I’d been gazing out of. No servants here, at least in the traditional sense; the palace itself serves. I’m still getting used to that.

I resume my daily exploration, ambling where my whims direct me. The steady tap of my boots echoes through a hallway that takes me to another wing of the palace, varying slightly in style from the one with my quarters. Has it been here the whole time? Last I came by this way, the same path led to a garden, and the time before that, a library. No idea whether these rooms still exist when I’m not visiting them or whether the palace simply chooses to guide me to wherever it wants me.

Once upon a time, I’d have gone out of my way to spite anyone that tried to lead me to do anything I hadn’t already decided I wanted, but I guess things change when you find religion. My Goddess is my shepherd, and I happily walk the path She lays before me.

Today Her path takes me to an ornate pair of doors. With a gentle push, they glide effortlessly open in a wordless invitation for me to continue.

A gorgeous foyer greets me, lavishly appointed with soft rugs, ornate tapestries, gold trimmed furnishings. It’s an entryway fit for the royal quarters of some big-deal monarch, much like the lodging provided for my use. Excitement gets the better of me, and I feel an uncontrollable grin split my face as I break into a jog. Could the other guest here be…?

From the antechamber to the private dining area through several more opulent rooms—I’m sure palaces have fancy names I’ll never know for each of them—I check for an occupant, finding nobody until I barge into the bedchamber and find myself staring at the sorceress who killed me.

Now, I’d like to credit my faith in Her for helping me stamp down the spike of fear that suddenly grips me, but to be honest with myself, it’s the gold shackles binding her arms, the collar of bone, and the chains anchoring her to the wall that are doing most of the heavy lifting there.

“Velle.”

The raven-haired woman responds to her name with a wild-eyed stare, managing to look like a wretched and bedraggled mess even while wearing an immaculately tailored dress of luscious crimson, trimmed with lace. Black-painted lips open and close wordlessly, shock momentarily robbing her of speech.

“You escaped?” The words come at last. “No, of course you did. You were the picklock, were you not? The criminal. You were the one who helped them escape every trap I set. You probably broke free of a hundred prison cells to avoid justice whenever it came for you.”

The sorceress Velle leaps to her feet, and to my surprise the chains extend from the wall to allow her this much freedom. “Set me free,” she hisses in desperation. “Let me join you on your escape, and I will grant you anything you desire. Riches? Power? An army at your command!” Her eyes dart around the room. Her voice cracks. “Anything your heart imagines. Just hurry, before she returns!”

“Wow.” This is too much to process right now. “I mean, wow.” There, that should clarify my position on the topic. Wait, hold on, I might be able to do a bit better: “What are you on about?”

I recognize the expression that crosses her face. I’ve seen it on a lot of people I’ve met, usually accompanied by the question, “are you stupid?” Velle, at least, refrains from saying that aloud, choosing instead to gesture with shackled arms in a way that makes her chain rattle at me rather pointedly.

“Yeah, I didn’t have anything like that,” I reply. “No point in chaining someone up who doesn’t want to escape. I mean, have you looked at this place?” I gesture at the opulence surrounding us. “Who would try to escape paradise?”

“A cage of gold is still a cage when those inside cannot choose to leave it.”

“Oh no!” I gasp in mock horror. “I can’t leave behind all these free meals and silk sheets and actually having a bit of privacy for once! I can’t return to the thrilling life of a cutpurse, running from guards and sleeping outside! How I’ll miss wearing the same mud-soaked clothes for months at a time—”

“Shut up.”

“Come on, I’m not done. I’m still lamenting that I’ll never again experience the sublime joy of starving on the road, deciding to try eating berries I found, not expecting the stomach cramps followed by explosive—”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

“Are you sure? I can go into detail. I remember so much so vividly. Actually hold on, I’ve got one more memory for you: There was this time an evil sorceress fired shards of glowy stuff that ripped through my most important organs and killed me for no good reason.”

“I think you mean sh—”

“That one really hurt, you know. I died about it.”

Velle scoffs. “Obviously you did not die.”

I erupt in a fit of laughter. For some reason this strikes me as hilarious, the best joke I’ve ever heard, even. “Obviously!” If you’ve never died, it must seem reasonable to assume someone could be mistaken about it! But no, she has no idea, and she has absolutely no idea how much she has no idea! I wheeze hysterically, and I wonder if it’s possible to die from laughing too much, whether I might give her another demonstration right here and now!

“I did. I did.” The laughter subsides enough to speak. “I promise, when your soul leaves your body, it’s hard to pretend you’re just taking a nap. When you feel the embrace of a Goddess, when She cradles the core of your whole existence and brings you back, safe and whole, it’s quite different from bandages and reparation magic!”

“Princess Natalia resurrected you? Truly?”

“A bit more than just a princess now, isn’t She?” Come on, I can squash down my giggling while praising Her, right? “But yes, the Goddess resurrected me. She loves me, and I am blessed.”

“Love.” The sorceress in chains sneers. “At last. Now comes to light the real reason for your freedom. I bet the two of you were fucking,” she emphasizes the crudeness of the word, “while poor Sir Wolfgang dutifully followed behind, pining for a lady who was already spreading her legs for some rancid street rat who no doubt could barely even concentrate on her royal cunt, too busy salivating over her family’s wealth.”

Nope, no stifling this one. I double over in another fit of laughter. Was she really trying to upset me by talking about my Goddess and my friend like that?

“Please,” I gasp, “go on.”

With a scowl, Velle remains silent.

“It’s a good start! I think you could really lean hard into the cuckoldry thing. Oh, maybe the Goddess (in Her mortal aspect as the Princess) was betrothed to the Knight before Her ascension. Maybe She really loved him too, in that romantic way, but was determined to wait until the wedding to consummate their love. He understood, and he admired such acts of purity even though his carnal desires cried out for release. Now enter the dashing Rogue, a scoundrel whose peculiar services were needed to get them out of a trap laid by their fiendish enemy (that’s you, naturally)…”

Velle groans. I continue. “The trio escapes! Now, the Rogue plans to rob the two of them before leaving, but the Princess finds Herself strangely captivated by this stranger, whose charm and wit possess a certain irresistible allure. She begs me—the Rogue I mean—to join them on their journey to save the land from certain destruction. Our Rogue claims to be moved by such arguments, but in truth recognizes an opportunity in the blushing glances She sneaks.

“Now the Princess is determined to remain pure for Her betrothed, but oh! How the dashing Rogue’s shirt leaves such a tantalizing swath of unclothed chest open and visible! And the Knight sees how She steals such scandalous glances when the Rogue leans forward in a bow, how hard She blushes at a sly wink, how She laughs at some honestly kind of half-assed puns.”

“How much longer is this going to go on?”

“Not a fan of slow burns? I wasn’t planning to have any bodice ripping for a while yet, but I think if you stick around for a few more chapters we can really get to the juicy part where the Knight finds himself torn between his jealousy and the slow, creeping realization that he’s also falling for the Rogue. There’s a really good moment when the Princess tells the Rogue ‘you’d look so beautiful with painted lips,’ and the Knight stumbles into the scene. He’s taken aback by the gentleness with which the Princess decorates the Rogue’s features, his face scarlet and, for a moment, unable to hide his desire. As he looks at the two of them, the princess in Her underclothes and the Rogue in rouge, it’s unclear what exactly he yearns for, but not even he can deny how he yearns.”

“Are you sent here to torture me then, is that it? I am a gift to you, that you may do with your murderer as you wish?”

I sigh and drop the bit. “No, I’m sure you’re here because She loves you too.”

“A funny sort of love,” Velle says, tugging her chain for emphasis.

“I have faith that if you embraced Her as your Goddess as I have, you would be freed.” I offer a genuine smile. “Sure, it’s especially easy for me to love She Who Saved Me, but if you can learn to love Her as I do, you’ll see that you’re already home. And like me you’d never need to fear death again.”

The other guest spits, hitting me directly in the eye. “Well look at you, getting a wink from the dashing Rogue yourself,” I say with a chuckle, wiping sorcerous saliva from my eyelid. Impressive aim, really. On an impulse, I lick my hand clean, maintaining eye contact as I do so. “If you want some bodice ripping of your own, just say so. But maybe let’s keep this a slow burn of our own, okay?” With a charming grin and a wave of my hand, I turn and walk away.

Maybe Velle’s right, though. Maybe she is a gift of sorts. What could be greater than helping guide a lost soul such as her to the warm embrace of the Goddess? I’ll visit her again the next chance I get.

[rubykgrant]

(Here is my fantasy-adventure love story I have been working on! I'm just sharing the beginning right now, but I may post more later. I started writing this by accident, not expecting to at all, and somehow managed to make something that was surprisingly descriptive, and I even had fun creating it~ This involves a character getting an injury, nothing too gory, but there is a small wound and mentions of blood without being graphic. Just a heads-up! Fairly long, so be ready for that. I hope anybody who reads enjoys it~)

When I was still very little, and feeling especially unhappy, I left my home without telling my family.

I had no destination in mind, mostly because everybody knew my usual hiding places, and I didn’t want to be found. Not right away. I wanted to be alone for a while. Really alone, not just surrounded by people who were ignoring me. By myself somewhere quiet, able to think my own thoughts, enjoy my own company, and not cringe each time I heard somebody shout. All the shouting was giving me a headache that didn’t really end, it would just lessen then intensify, throughout the day.

I wanted to hide, but not stuck in some dark and cramped little corner, and that meant leaving home and going somewhere else.

I also wanted to make my family come look for me, to actually worry about me. That was selfish, I know, but I was young and upset. I was also filled up with another feeling, one I couldn’t find the words to describe at that age. I was somehow bored and hopeless, tired from all the constant fighting. Everybody in my family had their own problems, but took out their frustrations on each other, then sulked without finding a resolution. Nobody was trying to actually talk or fix anything.

Being the youngest, my problems didn’t seem as important to my parents and older siblings. I was pushed aside, sometimes literally, and had no way to properly voice what was wrong. It was like something in my heart or in my head felt broken. This was depression, I know that word now. Yes, even young children can be depressed. That feeling doesn’t care how old you are, it happens when it happens. I don’t think my family would have believed me if I tried to explain it to them back then, and even without knowing that word, I knew that I had asked for help before, asked for a little more kindness, and it was refused. I had also asked why my parents and my siblings were fighting so much, a true explanation for what seemed to be causing all this anger and anxiety, but I was not important enough to be answered.

To be clear, my family didn’t hate me. That’s the worst part, I know they loved me, and I loved them, but the love didn’t do anything to stop all the hurt. It would have been easier if they just hated me, but even then, I probably would still love them when I was little. You can’t help that, when you’re young.

Because of the painful feelings and the love that didn’t help, I reached a breaking point. When you are as young as me at that time, every decision feels like a very important life choice. Something that will change you forever. Obviously, as we grow older, we usually get some perspective. The decision I made to leave home that day was just the immature action of a child who wanted some breathing room, and later some attention. It still wound up changing me forever. I suppose that proves life is unpredictable.

While I was still oblivious to the things that were out there, waiting to happen, I thought my only options were throwing a loud tantrum or leaving.

So I left, and went farther away than I ever had before. I decided to try and go in a mostly straight line, so I could find my way back if nobody came looking before dark. I thought myself very smart for this.

I left behind all the familiar sights near my home, and at first, it was fun to feel like I was exploring a new area. I was on an adventure, which distracted me from my unhappiness. I intentionally broke several rules about wandering into places that were off-limits. I found a hill, one that rose up and turned into high cliffs. Normally, I wasn’t allowed to even think about going up that high. So naturally, I did. I should have stopped when I could no longer even recognize the shapes of rocks and mountains around me, but I was excited, and determined, and enjoying this sense of rebellious freedom.

I still could have gotten home alright, eventually. Then I got hurt.

I felt something sharp snag my arm as I moved around a cluster of rocks. For a short moment, I thought perhaps a small creature had stung or bit me, but that wasn’t it. There was something sharp and metal hidden in all the plant growth here, and it had caught my arm, above the elbow. It wasn’t very painful at first, but as I turned to see what happened, the sharp little metal thing twisted, dug in deeper, and suddenly my arm was on fire with pain.

I panicked, tried to jerk away, and that made it worse. The metal thing was, in fact, a barbed hook. Longer than the first finger of my hand, curved in a way that intentionally made it perfect for not letting go of anything it snagged. It also had a tangle of more metal connected to it, but these bits were thin and interlocked, like a chain that acted as a wire. This all snagged me as well, pinching and cutting me everywhere.

I didn’t know what this was. I had never seen a trap or a snare like this before. I just knew that it hurt, horribly. I also knew that it was making me bleed, and that turned the panic into terror. My stomach felt like a tight, cold knot. I finally figured out that I should stop struggling, or it would just get worse. I wasn’t able to rest in any position that was comfortable, no matter what I tried there would always be some part of me that pulled against the metal. After crying and then catching my breath, a new fear hit me.

A predator could smell my blood. I was so far from all my safe places, who knows what might be lurking out here. It started to get dark, and I did the only thing I could think of.

I started crying out for help. I screamed so loud it made my throat ache. Even if my family couldn’t hear me, there had to be somebody, somewhere. I hoped.

As it got darker, I panicked again, now knowing that I was too far from where anybody lived. I also realized that nobody lived here because it was unsafe, and it was unsafe because of things like the hook in my arm. Suddenly I was very aware of how small I was, and what a vast world I was in. I felt surrounded by emptiness… but it was a deceitful emptiness, because dangerous things were hiding everywhere. So much was unseen and unknown.

It’s a pretty humiliating feeling when life just seems to prove every thought you ever had wrong. I thought I could take care of myself for a few hours alone, I thought I could leave my home and easily find my way back, and I thought it would serve my family right to finally be concerned about me. Life had literally added insult to injury. The hook in my arm hurt, and even though nobody else was there, I was mildly embarrassed underneath all the fear. Insult to injury.

In my childish imagination, I pictured my family coming along, seeing me like this, and telling me it was my own fault, this was what I deserved for going off on my own, exploring unsafe places. I deserved to be hurt and trapped, shame on me.

In truth, they would be mad for making them worry, but they would have helped me, taken me home, and tended to me. Kindness didn’t come easy to my family lately, but the love was there. They weren’t coming, though. I was too far away, too high up. They must be worried about me by now, and probably looking in all the wrong places. Why would they even imagine I would ever come here?

Eventually it was completely dark, true night, and I started to think I would be extremely lucky to see tomorrow. I wouldn’t be able to sleep or relax while I was here. A big predator could eat me. Small predators could start picking me apart, and I wouldn’t be able to stop them. I might just keep bleeding until I died. Even if none of that happened, if I wasn’t able to get free, I would starve. My whole body hurt, I was terrified, and hungry.

The depression I couldn’t name seemed like a beautiful dream compared to this.

In the darkness, I reached out, feeling my way to the other end of the wire so I could try and detach it from the rocks and plants. Even if the hook was still stuck, I might be able to go home and bring the mean little thing along, if the wire wasn’t holding me back. It was agony to move, and my fingers were almost numb from pain and cold. When I finally found the other end, I realized the wire was connected to something large and round. Like a boulder, but perfectly smooth, it was made to be this way, and made to connect to the wire with the hook. It was also metal, and much heavier than me. Bigger than me, too. I couldn’t lift it, or get the wire loose, or free myself from the hook.

At some point, early that miserable night, a miracle occurred. I had no other way to think of it at the time. Later, I still consider it a miraculous event, even with all I’ve learned.

Somewhere up above me in the darkness, I got the sense that something was moving. Shortly after, it wasn’t entirely dark anymore. There was a strange source of light. At first it was a soft and distant glow, but different than anything I had seen before. It got brighter and bigger, before seeming to burst, shooting in all directions. The burst of light made a sound, and I heard it echo, sharp and powerful. The light was part of something, some shape I could see against the furious shine the light turned into. I heard a deep rumble from that shape, and then a crashing noise. A short distance away, something was moving downward, hitting other mountains, crushing the rocks. I couldn’t see it properly, but from that sound, I knew it was huge. The lights didn’t follow it down here. The thing groaned as it fell into the rocks, almost like a wounded animal, but it didn’t act like anything that had ever been alive. Just a big, heavy thing, like the metal ball, but it was falling apart.

I could feel the force of that thing falling slowly pass over me, aftershocks coming in waves, and with it a smell drifted over. I couldn’t recognize it, but it was unpleasant. It left a bad taste in my mouth. As the huge thing settled in the rubble it made, the glowing lights above changed. They seemed to quiver and flicker. As I looked up in wonder and shock, I saw a new shape moving. This thing was most definitely alive.

I had heard stories about strange things that live somewhere in another world, high above. They can sometimes look similar to us, but are completely different creatures. They are mysterious, and often very dangerous. They can abduct us, steal us away from our homes, never to be seen again.

The stories are mostly told to frighten little children like me into behaving, so we don’t wander far from home, or follow the towering cliffs too high up. I had done all that, just to get away from my family. Now that this was happening around me, I also remembered stories about these creatures making cruel weapons to kill us. Things like metal hooks and wires.

I was so high up on the rocks, the lights were shining down on me. Whatever was up there could easily see me if it cared to look.

After a moment, it did. The creature paused, hovering up there in place, and seemed to dip lower, rising back up, and pausing again. It was watching me. It was curious. I froze.

Another loud noise, another burst of light, another large object falling down, a little farther away. More rocks rumbling in the dark. The creature moved on, maybe deciding I wasn’t worth the trouble.

Then it returned, rushing down toward me. It moved with an intense purpose, as if it suddenly decided it had to hurry. I had no idea what to do, and even if I thought of something, it was impossible to actually do anything. I was still trapped. I was hungry and tired, no chance to escape or defend myself. I could only watch this creature get closer.

Soon, it was right in front of my face, and I was struck with an intense sense of familiarity that I never expected. The creature truly was similar to me, at least from the waist up. A head with a face, eyes, nose, and mouth. Arms with hands, and fingers. Still, very different. Clearly not meant to live in the same world as myself. The creature also seemed to be just as shocked to see me as I was to see it. Eyes wide and uncertain, but also amazed. Surely, this familiar appearance was a trick to lure in victims. Why else would something so alien almost mirror myself?

After a few moments of looking at me with disbelief, it moved away, rising upward again. I barely had time to wonder if it would move on, when it returned, even more urgent than before, and this time reached out to touch my wounded arm. I flinched, but couldn’t really do more. I felt the fingers, warm and gentle. Not directly doing anything yet. I realized, it wanted me to know it was trying to help. The eyes were pleading, no cruelty at all in the expression. In fact, it was worried more about my reaction. It didn’t want me to struggle and fight, making the wound worse. I held my arm up a bit, and braced myself.

It dug out the hook, able to maneuver the barb in a way I wouldn’t have thought of. It hurt, but then the pain eased, and I was so relieved I cried again. Then it helped unwind the wire from my body, doing some kind of trick by bringing the little links close together, moving them so they fell loosely away. This particular creature might not have set this trap, but it knew what it was and how it worked. Once I was free, the creature shot itself upward, pushing off the rock where the metal ball still sat. I thought about trying to find my way home in the dark, but with everything that had happened, the large objects that were now in my way, I wasn’t sure it would be possible. My “go in a straight line” plan wasn’t an option anymore.

I was also curious. You’d think I would have learned my lesson about exploring the unknown, but I had just experienced something that was utterly unusual and fantastic. It was impossible to resist trying to find out more. I didn’t think I would ever have another chance like this. The fact that the creature had just saved my life also intrigued me. It wasn’t an evil monster at all.

I followed it.

I caught up quickly, despite its head-start, and also despite my own injuries. I was built for swimming, after all.

Some of my fins were a little torn, but not in danger of getting shredded as I moved through the water. The wire had scrapped my skin and my scales, but thankfully none had been ripped off. The worst was the cut on my arm from the hook, but I covered it with my other hand, and could swim just fine without moving my arms. I wasn’t as big and strong as my older siblings, but I was a powerful swimmer for my age. Now that nothing had me trapped, I could work my shoulders, arch my back, and roll all that movement down through my tail, building momentum. Up, and up, and up…

We both broke through the surface of the water at the same time, and I heard the creature let out a high-pitched noise. It couldn’t breathe in the ocean, like me. That’s why it had been hesitant to dive down, and in such a rush to get me free. These beings didn’t just live in the surface world because it was their territory, it was the only place they could survive. I could breathe air, I knew that almost as an instinct, but also from experience.

When we weren’t out swimming through the ocean, we lived in caves with air pockets under the water. The ones that became out main homes were all naturally formed, but long ago our ancestors carved them out to make tunnels that helped the water flow through different caverns. Somewhere from the cracks in the ceiling, air from the surface would rush down. Somewhere below, from cracks in the floor, bubble filtered up. There was always air and water in our caves… but some tunnels didn’t wave the flows for water. Occasionally, me and my siblings would pull ourselves up to crawl across the rocks, trying to see who could go the farthest into these tunnels as a dare.

Nobody had ever gone very far, and we never knew if these tunnels lead anywhere. Partially because we would all eventually lose our nerve, but also because our parents would catch us, then scold us. If we wandered too far away from our pools and paths, and got stuck somewhere with no water, we might die. That wasn’t just an over exaggeration to frighten us into behaving. Being too dry never felt good… it was also an instinct, understanding that without access to the water, we would die.

Without air, this creature would die.

I remembered some of the old stories, about how our kind would have to pull these creatures from the world above deep in the water. Down so far that they would never be able to swim back to the surface, even if they got free. In the stories, this was called “drowning”. It was the only way to stop them from pulling us up, where we would meet all forms of terrible torture and evenual death, like being denied water until we became dried husks. At this description, I always imagined left behind shells when certain creatures molted, but shaped like one of us.

This creature had risked it’s life to swim down and save me. Now, instead of pulling me up, I had come willingly. I wondered again if this might be a devious trick somehow.

The creature turned to look at me, the sounds it made grew quieter, more even. Catching its breath. I hadn’t been sure before, because even though the creature was small, size doesn’t always matter. Now I thought for certain, this must be another child. Perhaps my age. I looked back, my face resting closer to the waves. My nose was still below the water, but the creature kept its chin up. With the urgency gone, I could tell it was was amazed to see that I had followed.

I watched as the creature moved their arms around to stay in place, and also… I wasn’t sure what to call it. The creature didn’t have a tail, like me. Instead, two limbs below the waist, and these limbs bent almost like the arms. It had another set of hands on the ends, but they were longer, and the fingers were stubby. This was how it moved through the water, using these two limbs. I wished somebody else was here, to see the creature. Somebody who would be better at understanding how it looked, how it worked.

The creature turned, looking around, and then swam toward the top of a cluster of mountains. Above the water, I could finally see what they turned into. It was a little like some areas of seafloor where I played, with small hills, and plants growing around. These plants were much different than what I was used to. It all looked more sturdy, somehow. Nothing flowed continuously up here. The air moved, though. Not quite like the water, but I was surprised to feel it moving at all. The air pockets in my home never felt like this. Those were contained. Up here, it was like the whole world was breathing.

As the creature swam toward a hill that rose out of the sea, I continued to follow, and we both wound up sitting in the sand, side by side. Waves rolled up around us, then went away, then came back. I had never seen water do this in my life. I had always been within it, feeling it around me completely. Even in our caves with the air pockets. The times I’d been able to see a clear view of the waves above me, at a distance, it had been in open water. Nothing for them to crash into or wash over.

It had a rhythm, a pattern, but occasionally it shifted and changed, the water pulling away for a longer stretch of time, and a rather big wave following, then finding the rhythm again. Bubbles turned into foam at the edges of it. Seeing the way the ocean, my whole entire world, moved up here was fascinating.

Out across the water, I saw the flickering lights. They were dying out now, whatever they were. I could see clouds rising from each one. The smell I noticed below the water was up here as well, and even worse. We had sources of heat in my world, and this smell was like when something touched that heat for too long. Burning.

I looked at the creature again, and found they had been looking at me as well. We looked at each other for a long time. Still getting used to the fact that we both existed, and also resting. We were very tired.

They were better at sitting up out of the water than I was, but that made sense. I noticed the creature had a scratch on one side of their head, above the left eye. They were hurt, too. The creature was almost entirely covered in some kind of clothing. We have clothes too, usually just worn for special events, or simply because we like them. Having clothes all the time gets heavy and slows us down when we swim. It must not be a problem for creatures up here, except right now, because those clothes were wet.

As we sat there and looked at each other, the moon began to rise in the sky. I knew the moon, even from a distance deep below the water. It was also connected to some instinct. The moon was part of the water, part of me, part of everything that lived in the sea. Tonight, the moon was round, bright, and pale. As if it wanted us to get to know each other better, the moonlight shined down on us.    

Now I could see more details and differences between me and the creature. They had a slightly slender face, while mine was a little more round, but my chin came to a tiny point, and theirs ended in a small squared jaw. The features they had were defined, but not harsh. Graceful is the word I would have used, if I’d known it. Their hair was very long, made of thick curls. My hair fell around my neck, barely touching my shoulders, just a bit wavy.

This creature might not be at home in the water, but I could tell they had strong muscles in their arms. This strength seemed somehow fragile, though. Maybe that was because I could see another child there beside me, and sensed that no matter how strong a child is, it is terribly easy for us to be broken.

Eventually, the creature reached out a hand, and I touched it again. The fingers were still gentle. Nails shorter than mine, but more little rough areas of callous on the palms. Their face had a reassuring expression. They didn’t want to frighten me, even now, and I greatly appreciated that. They looked at my arm, not bleeding as much anymore. The creature carefully pushed the torn parts of my flesh together, attempting to close the wound. I didn’t know how to explain that wouldn’t work, as soon as they let go it would open again, but then I heard a ripping noise.

With their free hand, the creature was pulling off a shred of clothing. They already seemed to be torn and tattered in a few places. Once they had a section they considered to be the right size, the creature wrapped the fabric around my arm, tying it in a way that kept the wound closed, but still loose enough that it wasn’t uncomfortable. My other scratches weren’t as severe, thankfully. The creature still wanted to check me over, just in case. I have to admit, I was no longer worried about this creature trying to trick me in some way.

As they fussed over me, I was suddenly filled with a funny feeling of delight. I had been saved by a being from another world! They had gone to great trouble to help me, and were still concerned with my safety. Just as I didn’t have the words to describe depression, I didn’t have the words for how I felt right there. Many years later, I would learn the word “enchanting”. I had gone from feeling neglected, to desperate and forlorn, to incredibly lucky all within a single day.

What made me so special, to find myself in this moment? Still no answer for that, but maybe that’s alright. You never know when something special will happen. It doesn’t matter how old you are, either. Life does whatever it wants.

I was also falling in love with this creature, just a little bit. Perhaps not seriously, considering I was very young, and we had only just met, after all. Still, it was a very big feeling, and I had never felt anything quite like it before. They had rescued me, and were now caring for me with genuine kindness. How could I not fall in love?

When the creature was satisfied I was alright, they settled down again, sitting closer this time. As I watched them look out across the water, a new expression of utter despair filled their face. It occurred to me that the creature was alone, just like I was. Had they also left their home, and now couldn’t return? I thought about the objects that sunk into the sea. I’ve never been that close to anything like it before, but I’ve seen strange things made of metal and other material come down from the surface before. Some are very old, but others more recent. Stories told the creatures from this upper world make large structures for themselves that float on water. Some of them have loud, dangerous blades that slice through anything that touches them. That must have been what sunk before.

Now the creature had no way to move through the water without trying to swim, which wasn’t an easy task for them. We were also pretty far away from other cliffs and hills that reached above the ocean, so I doubted their home was nearby. The creature might have also lost their entire family when those objects sunk. Everything went down, deep into the water. They drowned. I was safe, but what about this creature? Who would find them? Who would help them?

I wished I could. I wanted to.

I tried to say that, telling them “I don’t know who you are, or what happened to you, but you saved me. Thank you for that. Do you know where your home is? Please, tell me how to help you,”

The creature’s attention was back on me, curious and confused. They made new noises, and it was clear we had different languages. We couldn’t understand each other with words, but… I thought about how they had communicated wanting to help me with their face and movements. I tried to do that.

I clasped one of their hands with my own, and brought it over to touch my injured arm, then pressed the hand to my chest, while smiling.

You helped me. Thank you.

They smiled back, and seeing the joy in that smile, I fell a little more in love. Yes, foolish and childish, but forgive me. I was foolish and a child.

I moved our hands toward the creature, until it touched their chest. My other hand, with the arm that had been bandaged, reached out to touch the same spot on their arm, above the elbow. They had no injury there, but I hoped I was clear.

I want to help you now.

The creature made a sound, almost like when they burst through the water earlier. Their head bent forward a little, and I saw their shoulders shake. They were crying. I had done the same, many times in my life. I knew how it looked, and how it felt. They leaned forward, just a bit, and the creature let me hold them in an embrace. We were different beings from different worlds, but we were also two children that were hurt, and lost, and alone. So, we understood enough to try and comfort each other. They might have just lost their whole family. Even though mine made me sad and angry, I would not want to lose any of them.

Thinking of my family made me wish I could communicate how I felt with them like this. I wished we could all comfort each other, find a way to understand each other. Two different creatures who had only known each other for an hour and didn’t speak the same language were figuring it out. Maybe there was hope with my family.

Soon, the creature took a deep breath, calming down. They briefly squeezed their arms around me, just a bit tighter, before moving away. It was a physical sign of gratitude. Now they looked like they were trying to think of what to do next.

The creature could see the area better thanks to the moon, and they motioned to me that they needed to find a safe place to rest. I watched in awe as they rose upward, using the two lower limbs to move. Now it was plain to see why the ends of those limbs were shaped differently than the hands. It was for balance, and the creature was much better at using the limbs out of the water. It moved along the sandy hill, and I followed from the shallows of the waves. Things had also washed up in the sand, objects that must have come from the same structure as… I felt bad, thinking of the one who saved me as a “creature”. We didn’t know each other well yet, but I decided to call this individual my friend. At least, to myself. We could try to find shared words to call ourselves later.

[nicoleneco]

UGH! I can’t take it anymore. On this social media site, practically nobody knows who I am. And if too many people do end up finding this post I will delete it. For obvious reasons I’m not going to say what either are called or too much detail on it. I’m just going to leak what I’m doing atm because I am extremely excited for it all but My excitement has to be contained off social media so nobody gets leaks, but I can’t talk to people in my life because any emotion you show to them gets a silent “yeah okay, I’m trying to watch tv scoot”.

I already leaked on Phi1zas stream that I started working on something to do with coding.

- I’m making a cozy game that deals with cooking, exploring, and hobbies. I have practically everything I want noted and am working on. But sense I am new to coding I can’t figure out how to do half the things I’m wanting just yet.

^

If you guys have any hobbies or some aspects of cozy games you guys like, please let me know. They might be added. I’m thinking about a battle system in the game, but for what is actually happening that sounds not on topic but absolutely hilarious.

I’ve leaked it multiple times already on my channel but didn’t say what it was.

- a medieval book with no Magic or Dragons. Half the pages are wrote and I read over them and made notes to change. The rest of the story will be written and read over soon, edited in full read again, ect. As for the release, it will either be this year or in the 1-2 quart of next year.

Anything else?

This months vlog went from one thing to another. It is now going to mix in some hobbies as well as the price, and how I get over/through burn out.

Octobers Main channel videos will still be the same topics.

Mod Reviews(Minecraft Story/Stories) will all be Halloween/spooky themed.

Minecraft Hard Core (after you see next weeks season 2 death) will still be the same. No changes

And the quest to kill the ender dragon wont change either.

The games in between will obviously be fall/fall cozy/ witchy/Halloween themed. I don’t intend to do scary games. Maybe if I find one I really want to play. But I’m not in the head space to be doing that just yet.

I have a video about running, health, and a virtual marathon company I plan to release. I just can’t figure out if I will release it in October or November.

Also. Once I get the kinks worked out, I plan to make my own website for my stickers and prints. Give you a little show- Redbubble is nice, quick, and easy to post things on. But each sticker is about 2$ Nice, not a lot. I make about 10% of said 2$.

The only way I could truly make something back for my art on the website is if I raise the price. Which definitely stands against what I want to do.

Now do I think that this would flourish for me? Probably not, my redbubble has been open for about 5 years and has only made one sell.

I do see it as a better option. Plus, I make things I like. Do I all the time? No! But the art that I do like that I would sell, I like myself and wish to put my stickers on my stuff. And If I already had an area of stickers I made, I could just yoink one and slap it on my journals instead of paying someone and waiting for it to arrive.

[evieismol]

Big Bend - Chapter 24

Word count: 1139

Content warnings: mention of giants hurting people, language (maybe? I can’t remember if there’s any cursing)

“Ready?” Angie asked as I pulled open the door to the car.

“And set!” I replied, putting my backpack on the floor. Outside, the first rays of sun were just beginning to peak over the horizon.

“Perfect. According to the map,” she paused to look at her phone, “we should be there by about one.”

“Sounds great to me. It’s going to be weird being away from here for a whole three days.” I buckled my seat belt.

“It is, isn’t it? I think Corpus Christi will be cool, though.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m really excited about that bar you were telling me about,” I agreed. By the time the sun had fully risen, we were well on our way to the city. It had so far been rare to get matching days off, so when we’d seen the schedule, Angie had been quick to suggest we do something fun.

That ended up starting with a diner in the city that had some delicious eggs and even more delicious pancakes. It was technically far beyond breakfast time - the drive to reach the coastal city had taken close to nine hours, so even with leaving before dawn we still hadn’t arrived until mid afternoon. I didn’t think breakfast had a time limit, though.

It was refreshing to be away from the park, I thought as I took another bite of the pancakes. For a whole list of reasons.

There were the generally long working hours. The endless questions about where the bathroom was. The giant alien who partly terrified and partly fascinated me. “Little” things like that.

I’d told myself I wasn’t going to think about any of that when we were in Corpus Christi for the weekend, and yet I’d already failed at it.

“So, we check-in after we eat, and then…well, I’m down for whatever,” Angie said.

“You don’t want to rest a bit first?” She’d done most of the driving, despite me offering more than once. She shook her head.

“I’ve had way too much coffee for that,” she replied with a shrug. “Besides, we came all the way here, might as well enjoy it. We should go see the beach!”

“Works for me,” I replied. We finished eating, paying and then heading to the hotel. Between the long drive and the three day weekend, we’d decided staying somewhere for two nights, so we’d get a full day to explore the area, was the move. The hotel we’d picked wasn’t anything fancy - just your run of the mill chain hotel, but it at least offered free breakfast. Something I found myself already looking forward to despite the fact that I’d just finished breakfast.

I was also relieved to find that our hotel room was clean enough. More than that, actually. Angie and I dragged our suitcases into the room. She suggested we get changed and freshen up before venturing out. I had no objections to that plan. I’d attempted to smooth my hair out before going into the diner, but it was still far messier than I would have liked after several hours of half consciously leaning against the car window and my neck pillow.

After getting changed and actually styling my hair, I sat down on the bed, waiting for Angie to emerge from the bathroom. I didn’t have to wait long, as it turned out, and moments later, we were back in the car, this time heading towards the coast itself. I watched as several looming skyscrapers whooshed by the car.

“Weird to think Easton’s probably as tall as some of those,” Angie said, nodding to the buildings in the rearview mirror as she pulled into a parking spot.

“Not all of them,” I replied. She was right, though. The largest building I’d seen Easton next to was the visitor center, which was only two stories. Three if you counted the balcony on the roof. It was strange trying to imagine him in a city. Especially a pretty much exclusively human sized city. While a few larger cities did have a couple buildings now that would have fit the smaller variety of giants, those were few and far between. Corpus Christi wasn’t one of them. Not that it would have mattered much, considering that Easton was also decidedly not one of the smaller species of giants.

“Probably most of them,” I amended after a moment. “I think some of them are taller than him, though.”

“I’ll look it up,” Angie said, pulling out her phone. “He’s what? 200-something feet tall?”

I nodded. 218.

“Yeah, you’re right. The tallest is 411.” She replied. “And only…” she paused, counting whatever she was reading. “Nine or ten of them are taller than he is.”

“That’s pretty weird, isn’t it?” I tried to keep my tone light as we got out of the car, but an edge of anxiety crept into it nonetheless. “That we know someone taller than most of those buildings.”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Angie said. “Think he’s definitely the tallest friend I have.”

“You know a lot of building sized aliens?” I asked jokingly.

“So many,” Angie replied, rolling her eyes slightly as she laughed. I looked back at the buildings in the distance, towering over us, and felt an unsettled feeling creep into my stomach, thinking about the damage someone Easton’s size could easily do to an entire city, unarmed.

Good thing he’s in the middle of nowhere. As soon as that thought crossed my mind, another followed - that that may have not been a coincidence. The unsettled feeling only increased.

It’s probably just for logistical reasons. I mean, it’s not like he could work at Carlsbad Caverns or something. More space is a definite plus for a giant. They wouldn’t have hired him if they actually thought he would try to do…anything.

Despite my attempts to reassure myself, some of my unease had apparently seeped into my expression. Angie glanced over at me as we walked along the beach.

“You okay?” Angie asked.

I nodded quickly.

She gave me an unconvinced look, one eyebrow raised.

“You sure?” She pressed. When I didn’t reply after a moment, she continued. “You mentioned having met someone from Aphiria before one time…is whatever’s up with how you feel about Easton related to that?”

“I don’t feel any particular way about Easton,” I replied. A bit too defensively to be convincing. I drew in a long breath, exhaling slowly.

“I’ve never told anyone this before,” I started softly.

“You don’t have to-I was just curious-“ Angie started. I shook my head.

“I think I should,” I said. “I-Easton’s the first Aphirial I’ve met officially. But when I was a kid, I saw something. Something I shouldn’t have seen. I…saw an Aphirial…” my voice broke as I tried to force the next words out of my mouth. “…kill someone.”

[justanechoflower-ddlc]

(That works. Monika only knew about the ask because of the epiphany-related stuff. If Flowey can see it, that would imply they somehow exist in the game, and it’s being rendered somehow for them to get to him. She would be able to read the dialogue boxes too and as a result know exactly what Flowey said, but… the file responsible for displaying the textboxes, gui.rpy, is actually one of the four files deleted during the end credits. If she did read it, she’d still be doing what she could to not acknowledge it, though. There’s a lot to be said about the ramifications of those four files being deleted. Perhaps sometime in the future, they’ll be further explored. But for now what can be said is that Yuri and Natsuki can’t see any asks, and Monika and Sayori tend to not acknowledge them in front of anyone, and with gui.rpy gone, it’s possible to NOT be heard perfectly by even Monika and Sayori.)

(But now, onto the questions! None of these were explored in the actual game, so here’s my attempt at extrapolating what they could be from things vaguely adjacent to them. I wasn’t expecting a Monika question, so this will probably be the longest one I’ve made! In fact, the post with the three poems will probably be much shorter than this one! If it gets much longer than this I might have to start splitting these posts up somehow!)

————————————

Sayori:Oh! Oh! I’ll answer first!

Sayori:Thing is, it’s actually changed quite a lot! I’ve often gotten really interested in a thing or two, only for it to fade away quickly!

Sayori:Hehe, don’t worry, writing poems and studying literature are different than those other things! That never faded away, and I’ve had that one for a while! Those feels really help me explore my feelings! Hm, does poetry count as a job? Maybe my poems can help inspire and make a bunch of people happy, ehehe~

Sayori:And oh! Maybe inside there, me and some other writers can bounce ideas off each other and just have a chat! Maybe it can be its own literature club!

Monika:Err… I don’t think that’s how jobs work these days… There’s always an air of professionalism that everyone is expected to keep up. There are a few exceptions, like Sakurai’s company Sora, but that’s a video game company…

>#We can make it that way, though! Can’t we change all the background factors to make all the jobs better? Pleeease, Monika?

>#You wouldn’t even be able to work at those jobs anyway, those areas don’t actually exist. There wouldn’t be a point. So I’d rather change as little as possible, to at least keep things believable. 

>#Who says we can’t say a movement happened for it to work? And what if Natsuki and Yuri want to be a part of it? It’d keep them happy, and to them, it’s all real! 

Sayori:Hmm… does it count if I’m not working for a boss, but instead I self-published? I did the poetry pamphlets for the festival a while back, it shouldn’t be too hard! Though we didn’t get any new members from the festival, so maybe that wouldn’t work so well anyway…

Sayori:But hey! Or maybe they already have, when’s the last time you looked at the state of these jobs? Oh, maybe I can learn to make games, too! I’ve been learning a little coding myself, and maybe with games, I can change the world! Games really are fun to play, ehehe~ Oh, wait, I can’t just take a poem and make it a game… there’s probably a whole bunch of stuff that has to get into making it a fun game to play… oh well! I’m sure I’ll have a great idea where to go for a great job by the time we all graduate!

Monika:I’m sure you will!

Monika:(…Literally… The game revolves around the club, so there’s a good chance graduation just never happens at all and the classes just keep looping every year. If that’s why she said it like that, that’s actually pretty clever.)

Monika:I’ll go next, since I got the first question! 

Monika:Hm, what accomplishment am I the most proud of? I don’t think I’ve gotten to that point yet. Everything I’ve done is simply steps towards a better future! …We are still in high school, we don’t really accomplish big things until later, you know… None of us even have jobs yet! 

Natsuki:Wait a moment! Monika, how’d you know me and Yuri don’t have jobs? You just met us!

Monika:…Because we’re still in high school? Nobody in this school has a job, can you name one classmate you have that has one? Besides, if you did have one, that wouldn’t leave much time for this club now, would it?

Natsuki:I guess you’re right…

Monika:(Seems the game’s translators didn’t quite get that it’s not called high school in Japan… but I’m just going with what the game calls it.)

Monika:But back to the topic of accomplishments, I suppose I did give Sayori an idea for a club that’s different from the others, bringing a place where everyone can express themselves… That’s not a common thing around here, there’s so many expectations people have… most people don’t take literature that seriously, you know. So I managed to help spread the wonders of literature! If only it got more members from the festival, so that it could live on after we all graduate…

Monika:(Really, the only problem with the club is THAT thing, and I can’t mention it in front of them, or it might spread to them too… But before it went badly, there were some actual great moments! …They really were nice friends… and with the script gone, they have just as much free will as I do now… I’d think of something else to pick instead, but “being popular” and “being athletic” don’t really count as accomplishments, do they?)

Monika:(…)

Sayori:Maybe we can still have a chance! Nastuki and Yuri joined before the festival! And maybe they have clubs in college! Anyway, how’s it going so far?

Monika:We haven’t even gotten to the club activities yet, Sayori! It wouldn’t be fair to make any judgements on how it’s doing just yet, not having actually seen it in action. I also missed the stuff before the poem-sharing! After the end of the next club meeting, I should able to say for sure how it’s doing. But at least I can say you all seem great to hang out with! Also, didn’t you say one question each?

Sayori:No, I said Buttercup would get one question each! And that’s because I knew each question would branch out like this! But now it’s Natsuki’s turn!

Natsuki:What motivates me? For what?

Monika:I think he means what motivates you to get through each day? He couldn’t have meant any specific thing to be motivated for, since he JUST met you… Sayori told us you’re always full of energy, so where does it all come from?

Sayori:For me, it-

Natsuki:Okay, okay! I get it now! 

Natsuki:You can say getting really good at what I do is rewarding in its own way! I’m a pro at baking, and poems, hehe… And when you’re a pro, nobody and keep you down about it, because you’re better than they are! 

Sayori:(Still haven’t gotten past that, have you…? Well, I guess if that gets you through…?)

Natsuki:Here, though, we’re all taken seriously to start with, and we can all be ourselves! And it’s a place where I can read manga without getting judged for it!

Monika:Well, looks like the club is at least acting as a safe space for its members! That was one of the main things I was aiming for! Sayori, looks like you’ve done a wonderful job keeping this as an accepting club!

Yuri:Oh, the trolley problem? Well, there’s actually more to the problem than people think. Most think the “problem” is just whether to pull the switch to save five and kill one, or to not pull and let the five die while not killing the one. And most will say to pull the switch in this case. I would have to agree with that answer as well. What’s interesting, and the real “problem”, explained by Judith Jarvis Thompson in “Killing, Letting Die, and the Trolley Problem”, is how the answers change when you put in another situation, that, by all counts, should be the exact same, morally speaking…

Yuri:Suppose you’re a doctor, and you have five patients that each have one of their vital parts broken… if they’re not replaced, they will all die. But you find a healthy patient coming up for a check-up, that has all five parts needed…

Yuri:This is still a case of letting five people die, or killing one. Regardless, the answers people give will change in this situation! Now, a majority or people will say NOT to save the five! And the problem is, why have the answers changed this time?Now, in reality, the replacements would probably get rejected by the immune system, so it wouldn’t even work, but since this isn’t well-known, that can’t explain the entire difference in the proportions of the answers people give. It could explain why I’d not do that operation, though.

Yuri:Now, perhaps what’s going on is that nobody expects to find themselves tied to trolley tracks, but they do expect to see a doctor. There’s also biases that underestimate the chances of becoming sick enough to become one of the five.

Yuri:Or perhaps it has to do with the idea many people have that those who got sick must have done something to get themselves sick, and making this rule would only discourage staying healthy?

Yuri:I’d say those who say not to kill the one in this case do actually have a point, but not for the reasons they might think. If it became a rule, and common knowledge, less people would go there in the first place, being afraid of becoming the one. But this has a knock-on effect of sicknesses going unseen and untreated. You’d probably end up with more people dying in the end! It’s not that uncommon for common judgements that mainly come from a disgust factor to be backed by a reason we don’t quite understand… Working out where it’s actually coming from can help you work out when that reason is or isn’t actually valid.

Yuri:Now, if you read the paper, you might see Judith responding to the idea that “actually doing nothing is killing five, not just letting five die”, and then Judith coming up with another scenario where that isn’t the case. That’s because at that point, the problem was about the person driving the trolley choosing to turn or not, not someone on the sidelines changing the tracks. This is likely responsible for the modern trolley case we have today. Of course, the two scenarios I gave aren’t the only ones mentioned in that paper, going back to trolleys, there’s the case of whether or not to push a-

Sayori:Wow, I didn’t know there was so much to it, you could probably fit a whole meeting into that! 

Yuri:There really is. S-Sorry if I’ve been rambling on for too long…

Sayori:Hey, maybe someday one of our meeting topics can be about moral dilemmas! That’s a thing that shows up commonly in literature! But we should really let Buttercup think about and process what he just heard from all of us, and then get to the poems!

——————

Monika:(And it looks like we have someone else, too… Though Gaster makes the most sense. He was shattered across time and space, if he’s everywhere at once, it’s no wonder some of him would have gotten here during the time it was open. …He knows his own world’s void well, so he’s also the best option if I had to pick someone to stumble into this world’s void by accident…)

>#Gaster? Hehe, couldn’t resist checking out this world too, could you? I see you already know how to not mess it up. Just try not to make it look like Flowey’s talking to nothing in front of the others, that’d get awkward real fast, ahaha! I’ll do what I can to try and keep THAT from happening, but just don’t pick a time where they’re all focusing on Flowey to ask him questions. The easier it is for me to give a plausible explanation of what they saw, the better… You have been doing good so far, though, I don’t think I’ll need to worry about that!

——————-

(Monika using the console to talk to Gaster is relying on the fact askers tend to see what happens from an outside perspective, and players can see the console. She hasn’t quite worked out you guys can sometimes see what she’s thinking, like the paragraph right before then. Sayori also can see the message Monika made, of course. This may or may not stop being the case if Monika becomes the president again, that depends on some things I haven’t worked out yet involving why Monika could still use the console in Act 4.)

(The paper Yuri cites is a real paper, and said paper is about 15 pages long. If you’re interested, you can easily find it by searching for it. Judith reaches a different conclusion than Yuri did here, but Judith also only gave that conclusion as one possibility, and that the problem still doesn’t have a clear answer. Plus, Yuri didn’t even get halfway through the paper in this discussion! If she actually finished, that’d probably take the rest of the clubroom time! Which conclusion is better? Well, who knows? The problem still hasn’t been completely solved, even to this day!)

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

[screechthemighty]

Okay! As joked about, here’s my...essay-thing about Romance-Default Chemistry Brain Worms Ruining Media (as referenced here). It's less an essay and more some barely organized thoughts, but that post did get some traction so here y'all go. 

Now, you may notice I turned off reblogs on this post. That’s because I’ll be going into my opinions on a complex subject matter that also touches on some controversial(TM) areas of fandom, and I’m really not looking to get screamed at or doxxed by randoms. Seriously, I already had one hit post that got me anon hate, I’m not looking to make it two. This is between us, okay? Okay. 

Additional disclaimer: I AM gonna throw some shade at specific ships and fandoms, but I assume you guys read my rules and know the ships I hate but decided to stick around anyway. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So, What’s Chemistry?

For the sake of this TED Talk Essay Thing, I'm going to define chemistry as "when characters click in a way that makes their interactions especially compelling and interesting to experience." If you watch them interact and think "wow, I'd watch a show with nothing but them", that's chemistry. Note that this does not have to be romantic. Chemistry can come in all flavors: friendship, family, rivals or outright enemies, mentor-mentee (not always the same as family!), Not Romantic Or Platonic But A Secret Third Thing (drift compatible), and of course, romantic. People tend to focus on romantic chemistry as the prime example, but the other examples do exist (otherwise Found Family wouldn't be the trope it is).

Now, chemistry is a tricky thing. It's a combination of a lot of factors (writing, acting, direction to name a few), and if any of those factors don't work, the whole thing is off. (As an example, I personally did not think Deborah Ann Wohl and Charlie Cox had as good chemistry as Charlie Cox and Elodie Yung in Daredevil s2, and it kind of tanked the whole tension of "will Matt go for Karen or Elektra"). Chemistry is also open to interpretation. Some people might disagree with me about the previous Daredevil point, for instance, and some people might, say, interpret platonic chemistry as romantic chemistry. This is just a natural part of the subjective nature of art and in a vacuum, wouldn't be an issue. As mentioned in the original post, the issue becomes when every character interaction is viewed through a romantic lens.

But Wait, We’re Not Just Talking Any Kind of Romance!

Because guess what besties, even the major types of chemistry come with subtypes. I just wanted to clarify that, in this essay, when I talk about romance, I mean a played straight romance. Not a toxic romance or a tragic romance or anything like that. I mean the narrative wants you to believe these people are legit in love and could get married and have babies with little to no hiccups.

I bring this up because a common point of contention in fandom these days is the “well not every relationship has to be sunshine and rainbows! I find messed up romances compelling! Are you saying that there’s no place for explorations of toxic relationship in fiction?” And that’s not what this post is trying to say. I’m not the BIGGEST fan of toxic relationship stories myself, but they’re not my enemy at the moment. My enemy are the stories that try to sell me on happily ever after when the foundation is made of dry sand and swiss cheese. In fact, this is a point we’re going to talk about later, because people conflating the two is part of the bone I have to pick.

How Did This All Get Started

So 100% this isn’t something that has a singular root cause. It’s more like a slow buildup over centuries of storytelling. If I had to point fingers at one trope in particular, it’d definitely be the whole men and women can’t be friends and any relationship between them is just a prelude to romance of some kind. Someone in a reblog of the original post pointed this out before I could, but this has always been a thing and the only thing that changed is that fandom mutated the concept and made it gender-neutral. Now ANYONE’S interactions are just preludes to romance. Original content cemented the idea in our skulls, fandom just kept building the bricks. Circle of life or whatever.

So if this has been a widespread issue, why did I single out YA lit and fanfic? For YA, it’s for three reasons. One: YA is a huge genre even outside of its age range, and therefore extremely influential. Two: It’s what a lot of fandom content creators consume when they’re at their most prolific and before they get into creative fields themselves. Third (most important): YA lit is really bad about flattening all romances into Played Straight Romances. Granted, so are other genres (rom coms and the shitty “well yes they argue like they’re gonna kill each other but they’re in love, don’t you see” trend), but again, I really feel like YA has a stranglehold on modern content creators and fandom in a way that Meg Ryan movies don’t.

As for why I singled out fanfic, well, obviously, fandom creators consume fandom works, so they’re going to influence them and their outlook just as much as traditionally published original works. Also, fanfic has a MASSIVE influence on creative fields now. It’s terrifying to think about, but it’s true. Fanfics are on the regular published as novels (50 Shades, After, the sTeM-iNiSt books that started as R*ylo fic). A hugely popular YA series started its life as in-universe fanfiction in the author’s other novel (Carry On series). We’ve even hit a point where people are writing fictionalized versions of fandom drama and publishing it as YA books. It’s very surreal.

Effects on Fandom

The overall effect of this phenomenon on fandom is that it makes fandom spaces utterly intolerable. I vividly remember being afraid to get into Welcome to Night Vale because 90% of the fan content was about the Cecil/Carlos and I didn’t want to live through that again after too much time in the Supernatural fandom. Turns out, there’s more to WTNV than the ship! Who knew, right?? But if we want to talk specific examples, here’s four.

Muscles Out Any Conversation of Non-Romance Things: If you don’t ship Accepted Fandom Ship(s), good luck finding content. If you write or draw things that aren’t Accepted Fandom Ship(s), good luck getting traction. God help you if you write gen, because nobody’s reading that. (This is me being a lil salty I won’t lie, but that said, people who read my stuff I love youuuuuuuuuuu.) You want to talk about character interactions in a way that doesn’t relate to romance? Have fun, someone’s gonna derail the conversation. It’s intensely annoying.

Misrepresentation of Media to Outsiders: Okay, so, imagine if someone tried to sell the new Interview With The Vampire show to you based purely on the fact that it has two men in love and neglected to mention any of the rest of it because they themselves were solely fixated on LouStat as “omg so cute.”

Yeah. I bet you anything that if I did a blanket poll asking my followers if they’d ever had triggering media sold to them as something softer by Shipper Types, I’d get a lot of horror stories.

Unthinking Consumption of Weirdass Shit: This one is gonna be controversial so let me start by repeating a previous disclaimer: I am not saying every relationship has to be sunshine and rainbows all the time. I am also not saying that there’s ZERO place for certain subject matter in fiction, as long as it is handled with respect. I’m not calling for us to throw the metaphorical baby out with the bathwater. However, if you have Fandom Brain Worms so bad that you look at interactions between a teenager and a grownass adult, or God forbid, siblings, and think “oh they’re so cute they should kiss and be together forever!!” with zero consideration for what the actual ramifications of something like that would be? Stop. S t o p. Get some help.

Ship Wars + Other Dumb Bullshit Arguments: Basically, if every character interaction is viewed through a romantic lens, but a character has chemistry with multiple characters, people start getting weird and argumentative about it. This is more than just annoying, because ship wars can seriously turn into smokescreen for actually, legitimately harmful viewpoints and nastiness. Racism is a big one st*r w*rs fans I mean what.

Additionally, if you combine points two and three (misrepresenting fiction due to your own shipper goggles + unthinking consumption) you get utterly brain dead takes about how a work that is, say, meant to portray a toxic relationship and explore the ramifications of that is actually the most romantic thing ever. It’s exhausting to watch. And this mentality actually leads into some of the ways that Shipper Goggles ruin non-fandom works.

Effects on Fiction

Limits Interesting Stories: This is basically the same thing as “fandom is entirely about ships” except at the source level. If everyone can only view human interaction through a romantic lens, we’re losing the chance to see other types of stories. Now, fortunately, the market isn’t so one-note that we don’t have these kind of stories at ALL (bless the Found Family trope for its resilience fr), but I do still find it telling that a lot of the stories that take off on, say, BookTok are romances or have a heavy romance element.

Removes the Ability to Truly Explore Dark Subject Matter: This one is kind of related to point three in the fandom section, but if the shipper goggles are gonna only show you Played Straight Romantic Chemistry, then you can’t really say you’re actually exploring dark romance. You’re just writing the same plot with extra trauma added for zero reason. As an example: 50 Shades isn’t a genuine exploration of power dynamics and abuse. It’s a kinky romance that acts like the male lead’s flaws are equivalent to not putting the toilet seat down. It’s an easily solved problem and the power of love can fix him or whatever.

Limits Conflict + Interesting Subject Matter: Related to the above point but a different flavor. Also, this one actually has some overlap with how fandom interprets media, so consider this a “both sides of the coin” problem. If you see all chemistry as romantic, and a specific kind of romantic, that means any problems the leads face have to be easily overcome, not a big deal at all. This is BORING. This LIMITS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. This takes away from interesting questions and explorations of how, say, two fundamentally different people could end up together, or how a genuinely shitty person could come to grow and change given the right support and not just a singular moment of “oh I should stop being shitty.” It negates the drama and heartbreak of tragedies, the real world relatability of relationship where they’re not right for each other but stay together regardless, all the epic highs and lows of actual lived romances in favor of...what, he’s mean to her a lot but they still stay together forever? Is that all? Oh, he just dumps his toxic worldviews in thirty seconds and everything is cool now? Oh, he stopped being mean to HER and that’s somehow shorthand for him no longer being a fascist? (D*sney WILL answer for their crimes one day) BORING. YOU’RE ALL BORING. FOOLS! CHARLATANS! Anyways.

Authors Fighting For Their Lives Out Here: As with fanfic, good luck if you write gen fic (unless it’s found family, my beloved). Have fun watching your attempt at a nuanced take get dissected into the dollar store version. Also, I just know there are authors out there trying to write regular-ass siblings who have to live in mortal dread of what certain people might try to read into their works. This is seriously limiting for writers, because like. You don’t WANT those people as your fans. But you know if the siblings look at each other for longer than three seconds, someone’s gonna make it weird! And you can’t control that, but the thought is all-consuming! I seriously hate it here!!

How The Two End Up Devouring Each Other

So, all of this is bad, but the way that fandom and fiction intersect now only make things worse. For starters, fans and creators are more connected than ever, which can influence how things go. For example, say you're a a mid-tier CW show about monster hunting. Keeping those fans satiated is going to be priority #1. This means that fans talking about their wildest dreams for certain characters (say, two characters who honestly shouldn't be speaking anymore because SOMEONE won't go to therapy and is making it everyone's problem) are going to catch the attention of the highers-up. And those fans are going to be pandered to in order to keep viewership numbers high. And that’s going to lead to exactly the kind of writing issues I mentioned above.

Meanwhile, as mentioned, fanfic is becoming hugely influential on the fiction market. This is in no small part due to the fact that a lot of former fanfic writers are now non-fandom writers. That is NOT a bad thing on its own; where it BECOMES a bad thing is when they start bringing their bad fandom habits over with them. That just injects MORE of these mentalities into the fiction spaces. And then on top of that, the market starts replicating these already tainted works because they’re major money makers, and the curse only spreads.

Then fandom gets their hands on them. Then the tropes and shipper goggles mutate and solidify. Then that infects the fiction spaces. The snake eats its own tail.

Well That’s Depressing, Any Suggestions On How To Fix This?

Boosting works that aren’t the usual nonsense (fanfic and traditional fic) helps. Be more thoughtful with how you engage with media and how you discuss it, especially when sensitive topics are involved. Carve out spaces that aren’t so romance-centered and just vibe in there. Remember, the block button is free. Also, like, don’t be afraid to indulge in the occasional crack ship or “what if” AU where [insert bad guy here] isn’t as evil and therefore the ship works more smoothly, but just remember that it’s not canon. “Remember that it’s not canon” should be a rule on this site, honestly. I have to remind myself sometimes.

Anyways, if you’re reading this, I’m about to do the funniest thing ever and post some ship fic, so stick around for that I guess lmao.

[writingwordsanddrawingpictures]

So, I did a thing...

As any of you who, for reasons best known to yourselves, still follow me (and aren’t a porn bot!) you’ll know that it’s been a couple of years since I posted anything original, either writing or art. Fair to say I’ve been in a slump and I’ve not really done anything creative for *gestures wildly* reasons...

However...

I saw last Friday’s FFF prompt - An Eternal Summer - and it spoke to me. More to the point, it wouldn’t give up so I started typing on my phone while waiting for some rice to cook (rock & roll!). I then had to leave it to one side (work and other commitments getting in the way), but picked it back up again this Friday (armed with the new FFF prompt as well - What Comes Next) and ended up writing until about 2am.

It’s ended up being rather more than a flash fic at around 3,200 words (so I hope you don’t mind being tagged in anyway @flashfictionfridayofficial), and as I said, it’s the first thing I’ve written in a couple of years, and it’s rough, but I hope you enjoy it.

An Endless Summer / What Comes Next?

People often say that they wish things could last forever - a day, a night, a holiday - but they never stop to think what the consequences of that could be. Me? I was living them.

Years ago, when I was in my awkward early teens, I had an experience that changed my life. I'd never been a popular person, certainly not one of the 'cool' kids as I was far too shy and, dare I say, nerdy. It was the start of the summer holidays, and I'd been looking forward to the break from school - not so much the place, more the other students. People can be cruel, especially if there's something different about you, and teenage girls can be some of the worst offenders. Anyway, I was going to be taking a trip to the countryside to visit some distant relatives and, hopefully, de-stress. It was a gift from my parents for acing my exams, plus I think they didn't want to face having me around the house for the whole summer. It was somewhere down around Devon and Cornwall, I can't remember the name of the village, but it was a picturesque place with winding, tree-lined country lanes that made you feel like you were in Middle Earth and you were going to stumble across a group of hobbits heading off on an adventure around the next bend. My relatives' place turned out to be a small farm on the edge of the village - not what I'd expected, but a world away from the city I'd come from. For some reason, I'd never really heard my folks talk about these relations - a pair of sisters, I thought - other than in slightly hushed tones as if they were the black sheep of the family. The reality, as I experienced it, was that they were warm, welcoming and very friendly. We hit it off from the moment I turned up with my backpack, and I loved helping them out on the farm with the animals and crops. They were more family to me than some of my closer blood relations - funny how these things work - and they took me under their collective wing, teaching me a lot about life including why they were treated the way they were by the rest of the family. But, I digress. I need to set this down so there's at least some record of why things are the way they are now, and my role in causing it. Even though I worked hard at the farm, I still had plenty of time to explore the surroundings. The 'sisters' had told me some of the local folk tales, and cautioned me about certain areas, but I didn't regard some of the folksy warnings as being serious - I mean, fairies, goblins and that aren't real... One afternoon I was wandering through a local wood and came across a beautiful clearing. The sun was breaking through the leafy canopy, giving a gorgeous dappled lighting to the place. I could hear sweet birdsong and, if I was still, I could see a rare red squirrel on one of the nearby trees was eyeing me nervously. "Don't worry, your nuts are safe around me." I told them, giggling to myself. To my surprise, they settled down on the branch they were on and just regarded me with curiosity. Slowly, I set down my small day pack at the foot of a sturdy oak and pulled out my sketchpad. "You don't mind if I...?" I asked the squirrel, feeling a little foolish. I still swear to this day that the squirrel gave me a small nod, while repositioning slightly, as if to say 'okay, but this is my best side'. I don't know how long I was sat there under the broad branches of the oak, sketching my subject in the most perfect light, but I became aware of a presence behind me. "Oh! You've captured Peter's cheeky character so well there!" A melodious voice exclaimed behind my right ear. "Thank you, I... Wait... Ahhhhhh!" I jumped, remembering I was in the woods and had no idea who this was. I scrambled, clutching my pad and pack to my now heaving chest, and turned to where the voice had come from. I swear it was a trick of the light, but the figure I could see was bathed in a greeny-golden aura and I'm sure I saw slightly pointed ears. The most surprising thing was just the sheer feeling of positive feelings that were radiating from this figure - beauty, confidence, serenity, playfulness...actually, a lot of playfulness. I was awestruck. Then I blinked, and saw someone about my own age, still beautiful, but slightly rugged with it. Dirty knees, some grass stains on their wispy skirt and top, which looked really out of place with their boots. They - she, I think - regarded me curiously, head cocked to the side almost like the squirrel earlier. Then she looked concerned. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to startle you. I thought you'd heard me when I walked up, but I think you were too engrossed in your drawing - which is beautiful, by the way." Her voice was strangely deep, not what I was expecting it to sound like, but it was also warm and soothing like a warm bath at the end of a hard day's work. "I... I... Thank you?" "Do you think I could have a closer look at it, please? Peter tends to be so shy, so I'm surprised he was such a willing subject for you." The mellow sound of her voice was definitely calming, although my heart was still pounding for some reason. "I... I guess so. Wait, Peter?" "I may have named him when I first saw him. I come here a lot, so it seemed rude to not name my friends." While my brain was struggling to comprehend what it was hearing, she stepped closer to me, extending her hand. She moved with the poise and grace of a dancer, but carefully as if trying to not spook a scared animal. She succeeded. "I forget my manners, I'm Faye" I blinked again, gave my head a little shake, then placed my hand in hers. "R...Riley." "A pleasure to meet you, Riley. That's a lovely name. Suits you." Faye said, looking into my eyes which felt like she was gazing into my soul. "Th...thank you. Faye's a beautiful name too." I could feel my shock and nervousness ebbing away, even if my heart was still pounding in my chest. She smiled at me, and I'm sure I felt my heart melt. It wasn't a 'million dollar smile', but it was sincere and just made me feel...happy. She nodded to the pad I still held in a death-grip. "So, can I?" "Huh? Oh, hell. Of course!" We sat back under the oak tree and talked. Faye complimented my art, which I tried to brush off until she insisted, so I showed her some more and her face lit up. I clumsily complimented her, which she seemed to like. Turned out she was a local - had always lived in the area, and loved spending time outside, whatever the weather. A proper outdoorsy girl. I explained about being there for the summer, and enjoying the mix of farm work and exploring the outdoors... I glanced at my watch. "Hell! I need to get back." "So soon?" Faye seemed disappointed. "Sorry, I've got jobs to help out with. Can I... er... Could I maybe...?" "Tomorrow? Here? Absolutely!" She grinned. "Perfect" I said as I dropped my pad back into my pack. "Oh, what time?" "Whenever you can. The trees will tell me when you're here." She winked at me and I'm sure my heart briefly stopped. "Huh...? Okay, sure. See you tomorrow, Faye!" "May your feet guide you safely back, Riley." I was a little late back, but the 'sisters' could see I was happy about something, so let it go without comment. My meetings with Faye became the part of my day I looked forward to the most. She just made me feel more at ease than anyone else I'd ever known, including my parents. We'd talk, laugh, play silly games and just enjoy each other's company. She even managed to persuade me to draw her. It's not something I do, as people are so hard to get right, and it took a couple of sittings, but I finally got something I was reasonably happy with. "Can I see? Can I see? Can I see?" Faye was practically jumping up and down with excitement and anticipation. I knew I couldn't put this off any longer. "Okay, but just remember I've done the best I can - I'm no portrait artist." "Show me! Show me! Show me!" I opened the pad and handed it to Faye. She looked down at the paper and her face shifted into a look of utter shock. "What's wrong? Don't you like it? I knew this was beyond m..." Faye pressed a finger to my lips, still staring at the picture. A tear formed in the corner of her right eye, rolled down her cheek and dripped onto the edge of the page. She closed her eyes, still keeping her finger on my lips. My heart was pounding fit to burst. I reached out my hand to her shoulder, and she was trembling. What had I done? My mind was going into overdrive with all the ways this was going to go wrong. Faye's finger briefly pressed harder on my lips, then she lifted it away. "Faye?" I asked, worriedly. Without saying anything, she turned to face me, then threw her arms around me, holding me tightly. I could feel her still shaking, her warmth, and the pounding of her heart as well. We stood like this for an eternity, or so it felt, neither of us saying a word. Me, too scared to, Faye, I didn't know. I felt her cheek move against mine, followed by the warmth of her breath against my ear. "It's beautiful beyond words. You are such a special person, Riley, and you have a rare talent." I felt tears start to roll down my cheeks, and held her tighter. It was hard heading back to the farm that evening after such an intensely emotional afternoon. I think the 'sisters' could tell I was struggling with something, so I was given a free pass on the jobs for the evening, and they both came to see me individually later to see what was wrong. I was torn - I knew they were genuinely trying to help, but I couldn't put into words what I was feeling. In retrospect, I know they would have known exactly what I was feeling, but that's hindsight for you. I didn't sleep well that night. I had so many things running around in my head. The end of summer - and my time there - was looming like a black cloud on the horizon, and I didn't know what to do. I wanted to stay, but knew I couldn't. I wanted to keep seeing Faye, but I'd be so far away from her. What had happened to me? I'd sort of had friends, but I'd never had someone I felt so close to, so much a part of. The following day was a blur. I was on autopilot during the morning until I'd done all the jobs I'd been asked to do. Then I grabbed my pack and set off to our clearing. It was still as beautiful there as the first time I saw it, and I think that's what started the first of the tears. I sat down under the oak and then the floodgates opened. It wasn't fair. The first time I'd felt comfortable, the first genuine friend I'd made, and it was all going to disappear in a couple of weeks. I sobbed my heart out. As the tears subsided, I realised there were arms wrapped around me, holding me tight, and a warmth pressed against me. "Oh Riley, my dear." "Faye?" I croaked. "I'm here. It's okay." We sat like that for a while, then Faye moved round to sit in front of me. She gently placed her hands on my cheeks and rested her forehead against mine. "Faye?" "Yes, my dear?" "I... I wish this summer could last forever." Silence. Strangely, not even any birdsong. It was like the world was on pause apart from the two of us. "An eternal summer? Would that make you happy, Riley?" "If... If I..." I sighed "Only if I could spend it with you." I heard Faye's breathing hitch in her chest. "I... I would also like that, Riley. It's been lonely." "Then I wish for an eternal summer, together with you." "Are you sure, Riley?" "I am, Faye." I heard Faye exhale, as if she'd been holding a breath in for an eternity. "Then it shall be so, this I promise." Faye took one of her hands from the side of my face and lifted my chin up until I was eye to eye with her, the tips of our noses now touching. "I promise." She tilted her head slightly to the side, then kissed me on the lips. I was not prepared for that! It was the first time I'd been kissed on the lips, and the passion I could feel behind it was incredible. I placed a hand on the side of Faye's face and kissed her back. My world was exploding, and I didn't care. I now knew what I'd been feeling, and I wanted to say it out loud. I pulled back gently and looked at Faye. "I..." She softly put a finger on my lips and leant forwards so she could whisper in my ear. "I love you too, Riley." And then she whispered something else, a name I think, and I was overcome with a flood of emotions, images that made no sense, and a cacophony of voices. All was still. "Faye? I don't feel..." The next thing I remember after that was waking up in my bed at the farm with the 'sisters' sat nervously by the bedside. I don't know what happened, but I'd apparently been out cold for a day. Someone had brought me back - although they couldn't say who, and when I asked "Faye?", they shared a knowing yet scared look. I was on bed rest for the following day, which really annoyed me, but I wasn't given any choice in the matter. I resolved myself to going to see Faye the next day, but the best laid plans, and all that... I was in one of the barns when the 'sisters' came to find me. They'd had a phone call and my folks had been in an accident. My mum was okay, but dad was in hospital in a bad way. I needed to go back now. I hurriedly packed up my backpack, thinking about Faye and my folks, and headed out to the 'sisters' truck for the ride to the station. On my way to it, I spotted a fox sat next to a package wrapped in a wispy fabric. I'll swear the fox nodded at me, then the package, then back at me. Getting the message, I grabbed the package on my way past and received another nod from the fox before it wandered off. I ran the rest of the way to the truck and jumped up into the flatbed so I could get my last lungfuls of fresh air before the train ride back to the city. As we drove, I checked the package I'd picked up. There was an intricately carved stone of some description threaded onto a  thin strip of leather to make a necklace; my sketch pad, which I'd forgotten I'd left with Faye; and a note, written in the most beautiful hand I'd ever seen: Riley, my love. I know you have to go back, but I will be here waiting for you to return and enjoy our eternal summer together. If you feel lost, hold the stone and think of me. Keep it close to your heart. May your feet guide you safely back. I couldn't make out the signature, but it looked too long for 'Faye'. I'd decipher that later, I decided as I tied the necklace together around my neck and stowed the note, my pad and the fabric into my pack. The journey home was uneventful, and I spent the rest of the holiday before school resumed going back and forth to the hospital. Luckily, my dad was always stubborn and managed to make a decent recovery. No-one noticed anything odd with the weather until about October... Everywhere was still experiencing summer weather, even though it was supposed to be autumn. Climate change was the answer that satisfied people... ...until it was 30 degrees on Christmas day. And it didn't stop there. It was summer in January, February, March, April...all year round. That meant far less rain, rivers and reservoirs drying up, crops starting to fail... Not in the first year, there were still ways to mitigate at that point. But the longer the summer lasted, the bleaker - ironically - the outlook was. Being on an island, desalination plants were trialled, and were successful in some areas. That's where the deregulation of sewage release into the sea came back to bite firmly on the arse. During this time, I studied, I worked, and I joined a gym to keep up my fitness. I also learnt to box, which definitely helped reduce issues at school. I also missed Faye terribly. I tried calling the 'sisters' to see if they'd pass a message on for me, but as soon as I'd mention Faye, they'd get nervous and change the subject. I didn't remember about the eternal summer promise until our 7th year of summer. Scientists had given up trying to find a cause, and were just fighting to keep us alive. We ended up going underground instead of going ever skyward, because it was cooler. There were also some underground watercourses that were still viable. For now. I tried and tried to contact Faye, but to no avail. The 'sisters' had vanished, and a lot of villages had either been abandoned or demolished in the pursuit of going underground. I studied the necklace, note and fabric, having no other leads. The carvings were similar to some designs said to relate to the 'Fair Folk', or Fae. That set me off to learn everything I could about them. Maybe it was coincidence, or maybe they did exist. I also studied contract law, hoping if they did exist it might give me a hand in bargaining. Either way, I'm here, ten years on from a wish I made as a teen that's completely changed the world. I am not a 'chosen one', I don't have years of combat / magic training to make me a force to be reckoned with. There is no prophecy foretelling my defeating this problem. I'm a woman with an eclectic mix of skills, a desire to put things right, and a need to find the Fae I love - whose real name I now remember. I will move heaven and hell to solve this, or die horribly in the attempt. What comes next? Where do we go from here? Cornwall seems a good place to start.

@contes-de-rheio, @bookishdiplodocus, @pheita, @siarven, @aeschknight, @madammuffins, @esbarrison-author

Hope you guys don’t mind being tagged here

[subjectively-objective]

Arcana 99 - Ch. 6

Victory so Soon

What is this? Next

Of course, I had heard of the Grenfell-Maxwell Marathon. After all, it was a prime opportunity to reveal my genius to the world (and gain a non-trivial amount of money). My plans were meticulous, they had to be. Like all major advancements, there could be no flaws, else that would become the excuse for not moving forward.

It had happened with the automobile, 

“Why should we rely on oil and machines to make us travel when a horse does just as well?”

“It’s barely any faster than a horse, and can’t even go off paved roads.”

And the airplane, 

“It can’t even carry more than one passenger, it will never replace rail and sea.”

“It crashes too often. It’s just unsafe.”

Nevermind the fact that horses required fuel in the form of food. Nevermind the fact that a horse could tire or become injured. Nevermind the fact that planes could traverse previously impassable terrain. Nevermind the fact that boats and trains can sink and crash as well. Nevermind the fact that these arguments had opposed every advancement in human history and not once have they changed. 

Nevermind. Nevermind. Nevermind.

I stepped out of the back of my trailer; I shouldn’t be near the equipment when I am this irritable. I looked to my right and saw Jacqueline Santos-Dumont’s plane. It was a marvel of engineering, and the fact that she had designed and built it herself would have been a major inspiration for me if I were younger. Instead, my inspirations were Emmy Noether and Marie Curie. Inspirer or no, colleague or no, it pained me to take the win from her. Dumont was also flying to prove the fruits of her own mind, but this race was the only way I could demonstrate my own creation to the world; any other way would result in discounting it as a hoax. Besides, Dumont was already well known and would surely have other opportunities to show off her skills. 

I made my way to the front of the truck. On the way, I noticed a man had parked a motorcycle between my own and Dumont’s vehicles. He was alone, so I surmised that his partner had not shown up yet. Having reached the cab, I conversed with our driver, Hank, about our plan.

“Just so we’re clear when the race starts, don’t drive,” I said.

“Look, I’m fine with waiting to start, but could you at least tell me why?”

I smiled and shook my head, “That would just spoil the fun.”

Content with how well I believed Hank understood my instructions, I made my way back to the trailer. Once inside, I marveled again at my potentially wonderful creation. Potentially was only an operator here because I had to alter the original design to fit in the trailer. Doing so resulted in little room to maneuver. Pipes, antennae, motors, and cables filled every square inch of the space, leaving only a very specific route from one end to the other.

Along that route sat (layed?) a man entwined within the mechanical mess. He had his foot sitting inside a (purposeful) crevice of a cooling tank, and his hands were exploring the electrical depths of the main core of the machine. That man was my assistant, Charles Antony Tepper, and the only reason I was able to fit the machine inside this small trailer. My original plan was to unpack and build it outside; the open area would make issue detection and repairs simpler. However, he had the idea of packing it inside the truck and utilizing his small frame and nimble hands to reach around corners. Of the months we had spent preparing the machine for transport, less than half was spent making the design smaller. Most of our time was spent on optimizing the design of Charles’ footholds to be as unobtrusive as possible while still being useful. In the end, I was able to work on the most vital parts in the front while he could handle the little bits I couldn’t reach.

I heard a deafening roar outside, the race had started, “Charles, are you almost done?” I cupped my hands around my mouth to make myself louder.

Charles poked his head above the piping, “I just need to double-check the connection here,” he looked around himself, “and escape.”

I closed the trailer doors and grabbed the handheld transceiver from its mount on the door, “Hank, can you hear me?”

A static-filled moment passed before an answer came through, “Yes. And, before you ask, no, I haven’t started the truck.”

“Good, we’re almost done back here, so get ready.”

Another pause, “Ok.”

By then Charles had made his way out of the machine and reached the starting lever. I approached mine, counted down, and flipped the switch. The machine’s hum filled the room and the entire trailer began to shake. I say began, but it truthfully only shook once then stopped. Despite the short length of the event, I was able to think of potential consequences. We were either going to land safely, appear inside something and explode into billions of tiny pieces, appear inside something and watch it explode into billions of tiny pieces, miss the field entirely, or die mid-transit.

God, this is so fun.

I was excited, and when I discovered I didn’t die, my excitement grew.

“What was that!”

Hank’s frightened response did nothing but increase my elation. I took a step towards the trailer door, opened it, and stepped outside. I was inside of a small field surrounded by trees on three sides and a lake on the other.

It worked!

Charles and I had a celebratory hug and dance, “What just happened!?” Hank interrupted.

I smiled at him, “We just performed the world’s first portable teleportation.”

Hank continued to ask more questions, but I stopped him. We needed to travel the final mile to Flores if we wanted to win. To ease his curiosity, I offered to sit in the cab with him and explain along the way. Charles stayed in the trailer to monitor the machine.

On our way across the land bridge, I saw that decorations for the race finish were still being placed. One such piece was a banner emblazoned with “Congratulations Dumont!” I chuckled at that one then continued to explain the inner workings of my machine to Hank.

Hank drove around the island until we saw a building with a sign for “Grenfell-Maxwell Marathon Stage 1 Offices”. We couldn’t find a place large enough for the truck to park, so we left it in the street while we stepped inside to accept our prize.

We spoke with the receptionist at the front desk. We then argued with her about how we actually were participants in the race and were not just there to steal the money. A few minutes of this passed before a tall, chubby man walked down the back stairs. I couldn’t describe a mote beyond that, I was too busy wondering how such a heavy-looking man could walk so lightly to take in his features.

“Oh, Mr. Maxwell,” The receptionist began, “I’m sorry for being so loud, but these people simply refuse to leave, and,” She leaned towards him and whispered (though it was loud enough for us to hear), “They keep saying they’ve won the race. Not the brightest scam artists I’ve seen.”

The man looked at us, glanced at the door, then approached us, “I’m sorry for my employee's rudeness,” He spoke in a slow deliberate manner with frequent second-long pauses. Every word he spoke was meticulously selected and weighed before it left his mouth, “But, you must understand that with. . . our current knowledge someone being able to move from the start to the finish this quickly is improbable.”

“Yes, it is, but I did. Go check your records, we signed up this morning at the starting line.” I said.

“Yeah, and I even had to deal with a race official ranting about how no one read the rules,” Hank added.

Mr. Maxwell nodded; it was just as deliberate as his voice, “I understand your frustrations with not being believed,” He glanced at the doorway again, “If you would please lead me to your vehicle, we can get this situation sorted.”

I agreed and led him out the door and into the small lot of the office. Mr. Maxwell then looked directly at Hank’s truck, “That is your vehicle then? It seems so ordinary, yet it brought you here so soon. And, the choice of such a cumbersome vehicle for this event is. . . odd. May I see inside?”

I barely had time to register his last request as he had already reached the trailer doors.

“No! You can’t.” Charles said, blocking Maxwell’s way, “We’re keeping the specifics of our transport a secret. At least, until someone is willing to buy it.”

Mr. Maxwell respectfully stepped away from the door and looked at Charles, “Ah, you wish to keep your discovery confidential. That is reasonable, for now.” Maxwell looked at the truck doors again, then turned around. He stared for a moment. I followed his gaze and my eyes fell upon the field we had landed in just a few minutes ago. Maxwell looked back to me, “It appears that your group did travel here. I will notify Mr. Grenfell of your success and return with your money shortly. However, due to the suspicious nature of your arrival, you must remain here for the next fortnight while we investigate the matter.”

“What? Then we’d lose our lead!”

“Do not be alarmed. I will have all other competitors follow suit. In the end, you will still have the same lead as before.”

Not one of us had a response for the man, so we watched in silence as his large frame quietly vanished behind the doorframe of the building. The entire ordeal had unnerved me greatly and revealed a large hunger within me.

Perhaps a side effect of the teleportation? Hmm. . .

Though, that was a question for another hour. For now, the three of us made our way to find food. It was difficult to order given how the vendor only spoke Q’eqchi’, but we were eventually able to get our meanings to each other.

Speaking of language barriers, I was surprised that Mr. Maxwell could speak French so fluently

We returned to the truck and Hank drove us back to the mainland and found a place to park. We bought rooms at a nearby hotel and lounged the rest of the day away. When it was finally time to sleep, I was barely capable of the act. Come tomorrow, reporters from across the globe would arrive to interview the race’s victor to learn how she achieved such a feat. I was nervous, but the fame and notability I could gain from that would propel my career beyond what anyone else has ever achieved. My discovery was sure to net a Nobel Prize. I’d become the next Tesla, the next Einstein, the next Rockefeller. . .

I fell asleep shortly afterward to my dreams of glory. In the morning, I would awake to find most of my predictions were true (No Nobel and no Rockefeller, sadly). Even with the mystery of instantaneous movement solved, I was destined to uncover a mystery far greater than I could ever dream. 

I am Sheri Hoy Parfit, and this race is how I changed the world.

Next

[subconsitrep]

2023/09/14

I feel restless.

I’ve moved, and with that has brought the potential for a shift in mentality. This is the sort of thing that I’ve been waiting for for a while now, and now that it’s here I can’t help but feel like there’s more that I can be doing, without much of a vision or vehicle of how to get moving forward. I’ve already went out several times to get out of the house, to see what’s in the neighbourhood. I’ve scoped out places for fitness, food, and perhaps some places to mingle and network in the future. I’ve taken several bike rides and taken my camera along with me with hopes that I’d find some inspiration and shoot something along the way. They’ve been good for a time but now I’m just hitting a road block where I can’t figure a way past it as there doesn’t really seem to be a clear direction beyond this point.

So I’ve started applying for jobs. Happened across this one job opportunity with a prestigious Aerospace company. I’d personally love a job with such a company like that, especially with my passion for engineering and aviation. With everything that I’ve come across, it’s been the best thing I’ve seen so far that resonates deep enough with me; making me feel like that purposeful shift I’m seeking could very well be found there. As much as it would likely be good, it’s quite a long-stretch for me considering I’ve barely been able to get into interviews for years as a result of me working for myself, as well as not having any sort of formal post-secondary education. I basically look like shit on paper, as the record would show. I’ll definitely continue to search and hope to find something that I can really get behind – that pays me the money that I need right now as well as give me some level of value and balance in my life that I seek.

It’s just the waiting period. It’s brutal. I can’t even compel myself to do any sort of leisure things that aren’t really productive. Cycling or photography, sure. However there’s really not much worth exploring in the area. Applying just has me sitting in front of a computer all day, and where that would otherwise not be an issue if I’d be ok with playing games day and night, now it’s painstaking. As a result, I feel a strong willingness to network once more. I was once quite good at this, yet I wonder whether things have changed with those previous methods I’ve found success in. I’ve started re-using dormant social accounts of mine thinking that I may be able to somehow invoke the same sort of spirit that existed once before. Perhaps I’d start becoming more expressive and connected. The older I get, the more important I realize networks have on one’s life, and surely in the past 7 years I’ve somehow found ways to exercise myself out of those habits. If the waiting game with the applications is bad enough, the imagining doubling down on something else important.

With the commitment to seeking my truest potential and passions in life, has really come with it’s challenges that I couldn’t have ever been prepared for. Especially considering that entrepreneurship is really the epitome of going your own way, when shit doesn’t go your way you end up taking up all that negativity. I’ve always got back up, and continue to but after a while if you’re not seeing any strong movement forward, you get into your own head. Most of my days I find myself wondering whether I was foolhardy thinking that chasing my dreams, and instead should have just focused on getting a job with some company... doubting myself constantly and feeling that I may have overestimated my worth and ability. Once upon a time I used to be such a fearless lad. Now, I think most of my inner-most thoughts are laden with fears of possible realizations I may make years down the road: that I won’t amount to anything, could show nothing for this life nor my efforts, and would have provided no real value, substance or significance in my life or anyone else. This is the single biggest thought that runs in my mind on the daily.

I’ve been trying to figure out how to re-align myself, but with the burden of those thoughts presents a sort of fog of the mind; it’s harder than ever to visualize goals or see where or who I could be. It’s difficult to be creative, and come up with different approaches to tackle a problem. I think that’s why I’ve been diving back into some of the things I used to do before – when my state of mind and confidence were at an all time high. It may not be the route to follow today, but it’s definitely a good sign that I’m at least keeping diligent in working the problem.

Here’s me being hopeful in securing a solid vision, structure and purpose before the end of the year.

[awkwarddystopianwarlord]

A Life Changing Lake Called Klein

About forty-five minutes away from my house, at the time, was this lake. It wasn’t the most popular of the lakes where I lived. I think it was the furthest away out of the handful of lakes people frequented. It also didn’t have a manmade or natural beach which was kind of nice honestly, it felt undiscovered and secret. There was a large dock though which was used as the primary entrance to the lake, but even that was rarely crowded. It was a beautiful place, a body of water surrounded by giant trees and mountains in the distance. I think I only went camping there a few times, but in those few, it was by far my favorite lake, and one of my favorite places to be really. However, there was one time that was the most memorable.

It was the family that lived across the street who introduced me to this wonderful place. The mother was quite outdoorsy and she would offer a place for me to tag along. There would be six of us: her, her three children, my sister, and myself. All five of us kids were within four years of one another and we all got along quite well. Her daughter was a year older than me, her eldest son a year younger than myself, and her youngest boy was my sister’s age who is a couple years younger than me. We all usually played outside, switching from one backyard to the other every now and again depending what multi-day game we had going on. So, camping wasn’t a thing one had to convince us to do. We enjoyed the outdoors and we especially loved that lake.

The greatest trip we had there was when we got a prime camping spot. It was glorious. We were a wee bit of a walk from the main road that led to the dock, but we had our own diving board. There was a natural path made of logs laying side by side and at the end, one particularly flatish log that jutted out over the water. It was far enough away from the shore that you could dive off and not hit the bottom. And dive we did. We had diving contests on that log. From penguin diving to tying a towel around the neck and belly flopping via Superman pose, we explored all the ways of diving with style that our adolescent brains could conjure. That makeshift diving board really sold the land for our camp set up.

A good camp set up it was too.  There were two trees well spaced for us to tie up a clothesline, the land was quite flat, and we had a fair amount of privacy both with how we set up the tent and the natural coverage there was around the place. In a word, our temporary home was cozy. It was comfortable for me.

Spending the day swimming and running around and going on wee hikes made my soul happy. The little chores we had to do felt like I was living in a peaceful medieval period. Us three lasses (at the time) would stroll from our campsite onto the main road and down to the dock where we filled a bucket or two of water for…something. I’m assuming washing dishes or boiling to make it clean for drinking, though I can’t remember, but it felt like we were maidens bringing back water to our hovel. Hanging up our soaked towels and swimsuits on our handmade clothesline left me imagining I had hand washed everything and was putting it out to dry. Cooking our dinners over the fire was fun despite it being slower than a stove or oven, but much less often do we use an open flame to warm our meal so the wait was worth it. That’s the beauty of camping, life feels so simple.

One of the nights, we children decided to go for a swim. The sky was clear with stars shining, the moon either full or nearly full was sat between two mountain peaks, and the water was calm and still warm. It was both terrifying and wonderful swimming in the dark. There’s so much vulnerability but also freedom. It felt lawless and wild and so incredibly tranquil.

One of the days, we spent the majority of our swimming around the dock. We lounged on the wood in the sun, we ran down the length of the thing and leapt into the water, and we had the whole area to ourselves for a good long while.

At our adventure’s end, as we drove away from our rented land and slowly made our way down the winding, tree lined road through the campground, I decided this was how I wanted to live my life. I wanted to do what I did those few days every day. I wanted to live in the wilds, surrounded by the natural world. I wanted to worry only about maintaining my home and tending to my basic needs whilst still having the time to swim or hike for hours. I wanted to be able to jump in a lake whenever I got hot or cook my breakfast over an open fire. I wanted to wake up to the fresh smell of mountain forest. I wanted to stay away from all the humans except the ones I enjoyed. I wanted to remain there forever knowing that a relatively short drive away, I could get all my needs and wants in town. But I still wanted my belongings, and a shower, and then I realized that I wanted to plop a cabin right at our campsite. I knew that was impractical, but living in a similar place was not. I am almost certain that trip solidified my desire to live in a cabin by a lake, surrounded by trees, with mountains in the distance, and close enough to civilization to get what I need but far enough away to not deal with people. I have been chasing the feeling of peace and happiness I had on that trip ever since it ended.

When people ask me what my goals are, what my passions are, what I want in life, all I see is a cabin at that lake. If you ask what I want to do or how I want to live in the future, that cabin and lake is all that pops into my head. I’m aware, in a nutshell that seems silly. However, it’s not just the cabin, it’s what it symbolizes too. I’m not old, but I feel old and tired and stressed. I just want peace, internal peace. I don’t want to worry anymore about mundane horrors like taxes and rent and bills and holding on for dear life to my sad wages. I don’t want to keep feeling like I’ve wasted so much of my life working at a job that takes up the majority of my day and severely drains me. I don’t want responsibilities I don’t want. I can deal with the hard work of taking care of a house because that’s reasonable. I get something from that. I take care of my shelter and my shelter takes care of me.

I also want time. I want time to do what I want. I want time to spend on the things I love like dancing, writing, reading, drawing, being outside amongst the trees, loafing on a couch without guilt, confidently shooting arrows in all the wrong directions. That camping trip gave me the sense of infinite time. I didn’t think about what time I woke up or what time I went to sleep. I didn’t think about what time I had breakfast or lunch or dinner. I didn’t think about how much time I spent swimming or walking on trails. I just did what I wanted to until I no longer wanted to or until it felt reasonable to take a pause and do something I needed to do that was less fun. My brain has decided that if I find the finances to buy land and build a cabin, I will also be stable enough to predominantly retire from my drugstore and make most of my money through occupations that make me happy.

I so often long for a way to go back in time to that camping trip because I tasted genuine tranquility. Spending time away from all the routines, surrounded by friends and unscheduled days, gives me life. I’m thankful that trip was not the only time I’ve felt that ease of mind. I’ve felt it in my adulthood the couple times I went up island with my group of friends and we rented a lovely air bnb. There have been small pockets of that blessed feeling throughout the years but that lake trip started it. I am determined to reclaim that feeling for more than just a few days, I want it to be in the majority of my days.

Thinking for two more seconds, this doesn’t seem like a stupid dream. Who wouldn’t want to be with their friends whenever, whilst living in a stable and beautiful place, and having almost all the time in the world to do what they enjoy?  

[girlieinterns]

Hey! My name is Kate Beemer, (she/her/hers) I go to Rutgers University-New Brunswick, and I grew up in Maplewood, New Jersey. I am so grateful for the opportunity and can’t wait to get started as an intern at Girlie Action!

What do you hope to gain from this experience?

I am a Journalism and Media Studies major, with a double minor in German, and Gender & Media. I am an active member at WRSU, the official radio station at Rutgers, and a writer for the Daily Targum, the official student-run newspaper at the University. Through my involvement at the Targum and WRSU, I am lucky to have gained many opportunities to practice journalistic writing, press coverage, artist interviews, and more. I am passionate about music, media production, and learning more about the world of PR and Media, especially in the realm of the music industry. I am still very new to this field though, and I have a lot to learn. Through this experience, I hope to continue to explore my passion in these areas and continue learning about PR, promotions, media production, etc. I’m really excited to connect with people that are knowledgeable and experienced in this area, and I am eager to pick up any new skills and knowledge that I can while interning. I am thrilled to be a part of Girlie Action this summer!

What is the best concert you’ve been to?

Hearing live music is probably my favorite thing to do, whether that's at a concert or a house show or even just my younger sister practicing guitar. I feel like I see live music so frequently that this answer changes all the time. But right now, the best concert that comes to mind is when I recently saw the band The Beths play at Union Transfer in Philadelphia, with Sydney Gish as their opener. I got to go with a peer from WRSU, and we were able to get photo passes and photograph both acts from the photo pit during their first two songs. This was an incredibly special experience on its own, as I had never gone to a show with a photo pass. But aside from that, The Beths and Sydney Gish are both extremely talented artists whose music I love. They sounded incredible live and it was an amazing show. It’s awesome to see artists you love in concert when they sound just as good (if not better) in person as they do in their recordings. Again, it is not easy to pick just one concert because I’ve seen so many talented people perform- but the Beths and Sydney Gish are definitely some of my favorite artists that I’ve seen live so far.

What else do you love besides music?

I love to read and write, and I’m really enjoying practicing writing in different forms and styles as a journalism student vs in my own independent writing. I love to travel and learn about new cultures and history. I minor in German and plan to study in Berlin for my junior year at Rutgers. Learning new languages is a major challenge but I do enjoy trying. I love meeting new people and seeking out new experiences. I love to spend time with my family and friends, especially my two younger sisters. I also love clothes and going thrifting. I enjoy water coloring and drawing for fun although I am not good at either. I love spending time outside, swimming, hiking, walking my dog etc. 

What’s your dream job?

I’m not sure what exactly my dream job is, but I hope it will be something that allows me to travel, and be creative. I could definitely see myself working in journalism or the media world in some way, especially internationally. I would hope that I could continue my work with broadcast media production, as that is something I have found that I really love. If I had to say a specific job right now, I would say that my dream job is to be an international reporter / radio host. I am inspired by people who have created their own investigative podcasts, or who work in music media production/broadcasting, etc. I’m hoping to find a more clear answer to this through more professional experiences, for example interning here at Girlie Action!

[theravenstag-andtheteacup]

My Teacup

I had just finished yet another therapy session with a patient. It would’ve been better if he wasn’t so...rude. Alas, he lives another day. For now. All I have on my mind right now is this session with my dear Will. Speaking of, there he was in my waiting room.

“Will? Are you ready?”

“I do believe I am, doctor Lecter.”

I watched Will come in, and slowly take his spot in the chair across from me.

“How have you been, Will?”

“Do you want the truth or the lie?”

I smiled, “the truth, please.”

“Let’s see, nightmares are still happening, I’m not functioning well, and I can’t keep track of most things.” Will said, looking down for a moment, and then back up at me.

I asked him the standard questions, and listened to his answer.

“Will, I want you to take a break. A break from all of this.”

“Like therapy?”

“No, not this in particular, just work. You’re doing too much in a short amount of time. It’s not good for you, really.”

Will nodded, and agreed.

“Should I take up fishing again? Or rather just take up the simple things?”

I thought for a moment.

“Fishing could do you good. You and your dogs on a lake, away from society for a while.”

“Well, I’d like you to be there.” Will said, smiling up at me.

I checked my calendar for the upcoming week, and noticed that it was blank.

“I’d love to. Now, cabin or tent?”

Will sat there for a moment in silence. “Cabin. Just, nothing Hobbs like. Please.”

I agreed, and our session ended. I made Will dinner, and dessert. Off he went afterwards.

I nodded, and looked in a near region for cabins for the next couple of days. I called Will about this cabin I found. Two floors, new, and furnished.

The arrival wasn’t bad. It was actually really nice. We took turns driving, but it wasn’t long. Will let his dogs explore the area, and they returned to their rightful owner.

Will had the biggest smile on his face when he looked around. I helped him unload everything, and we both headed inside.

“What do you think, Will?”

He smiled even more, and gently kissed my cheek. “I love it, Hannibal.” Then he went upstairs to the bedroom.

I stood there for a moment. Lightly rubbing the area he kissed me on. I sighed happily, and joined Will upstairs.

He was already in his comfortable clothes, and I felt very overdressed.

“Aren’t you gonna strip the layers? I can leave the room, if you’d prefer.”

I turned to face Will, and said, “I-I’d prefer if you’d stay. If that’s okay, of course, I-I-“

I was cut off by a pair of chapped lips on mine. He tasted like coffee and bagels.

Will pulled away, and smiled up at me.

“You’re so adorable when you get like this.” Will said, holding me.

“Thank you, Will.” I said, wrapping my arms around him.

I changed and we went back downstairs and into the kitchen. I made us steaks, baked potatoes, and mixed vegetables. I also made food for the dogs. Given that they enjoyed it last time.

During the stay, my fragile teacup was put back together. As if it was never cracked. I asked Will if he wanted to stay longer, and he agreed. Unfortunately for me, Jack called asking if Will is going to come back soon. Thankfully. Will was asleep.

“Jack, Will is going to prolong his stay at the cabin.”

“Hannibal, that is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. We need Will in the field!”

I was taken aback by Jack’s reaction, but I kept my composure.

“Jack, Will needs time off from the world. Especially from the FBI. If he keeps this up, god only knows what could happen. As his therapist and friend, I don’t advise any of that just yet.”

“Are you saying that I’m the cause for Will’s behavioral issues?”

“Deep breath, Hannibal.” I thought to myself. “No. But, you are a factor. I understand that you want what’s best for Will, but this is not the way to go. Please listen to me, Jack.”

“Fine. Will can have the rest of the month off, but no more.”

I was rudely passed of to the sound of a dial tone.

I decided that it was time to make dinner. I snooped around for both Will and his dogs, but soon found out that they’ve gone fishing. As soon as I could grab my coat, Will and his muddy dogs came into the cabin. Will had a wide assortment of fish.

“For you, Hannibal.” He said, laying the cooler full of fish besides me.

I made dinner for all of us, and then Will went off to shower. I swapped out his atrocious aftershave for something more heavenly.

“Hannibal, did you change my aftershave?”

“Yes. It was horrendous to be around.”

“I like this stuff more.”

I smiled, and followed him to bed.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to sleep, Will?”

“I think so. Just, be close to me, please.”

“Of course, Will.”

I held Will, slowly running a hand through his hair, and gently moved him onto my chest, trying not to disturb his sleep.

“D-don’t move...too...comfortable.”

I smiled, and whispered, “I won’t. Go to sleep, baby.”

Will smiled, and rubbed my neck in his sleep. I held him close, and fell asleep with him in my arms.

Jack kept calling, but I just let them go to voicemail, and delete them before Will came back. I wanted Will to enjoy his time away from everything.

Unfortunately for me, Jack showed up.

“Where’s Will?” Jack asked, inviting himself in.

“Oh, good morning to you too, Jack. Please, do come in.” I said, sarcastically. I rolled my eyes as he set jacket onto the couch.

“Hannibal, where’s Will?”

I couldn’t think of a witty comment, so I said, “gone fishing.”

“Very funny, Hannibal. Where. Is. Will?”

“Exactly as I said. Gone fishing.”

Another unfortunate event, Will came in the door with his dogs, fish, and poles.

“Huh, you were fishing.”

“J-Jack?” I could tell Will was nervous by the way he asked.

“Yes, and you haven’t returned any of my calls, or anything. Now, why is that?”

“I never got any of your calls, let alone anything else.”

Will’s voice was starting to strain. I escorted Will into another room.

“Let me handle Jack.”

“Okay. Just don’t kill him, please.”

“I won’t.”

I kissed the top of Will’s head, and went back to take care of Jack.

“Hannibal, this isn’t appropriate, and you of all people should know this.”

“And I think that you, of all people, should know that if you push Will too far, he won’t come back to himself. Leave Will alone.”

“What are you, his boyfriend? His protector? Or are you his dad?”

I smiled and laughed, “I’m the only one who listens to him. I’m his best friend, his lover, and his soon-to-be fiancé.”

“Fiancé? You want to take more time away from Will in the field? I can’t believe you.”

“Well, I’m sorry Jack, but I’m not here for you. I’m here for Will.”

With that, Jack left the cabin.

“Will?”

“Yes?”

“Are you ready to come down?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Dinner was made, and ready at the table.

“Hannibal?”

“Yes, Will?”

“I, uh, have a question.”

I looked at him, straight in the eyes. He held my gaze.

“Yes, Will?”

“I’ve had this on my mind for awhile now, and, Uh, would you like to have this?”

Will handed me his ring. I couldn’t say no.

“I actually have a surprise for you too, honey.”

“You do?”

I reached into my pocket, and had the box in my hand.

“Will?”

“Yes...?”

There, I could tell he was nervous.

“Will, I’ve loved you for the longest time. Even though you did pull a gun on me, and didn’t want to see me, for understandable reasons, but, William Graham, will you do the honors of making me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

Will had tears in his eyes, and I held his hands in mine.

“Hannibal...yes. A thousand times yes!”

I kissed him, and slipped the ring onto him.

“Hannibal, I love you.”

“I love you too, Will. Forever and always.”

And there we spent the rest of our days, in that cabin with our dogs, and our wondrous lake.

[kouros-herc]

RP Questionnaire 2022

Your Name: 

Laura

Characters:

Hercules Kouros / Jessie Wright / Jeremy Johnson

Pick one of your characters and talk about their growth (we recommend choosing an older character, but it’s up to you!) What about their story has surprised you? What are you proud of? How have they changed from their original inception to now?

Hercules - Herc has had a relatively gentle year it feels (which is saying something) as I get my feet on the ground and try to establish the character without doing anything too drastic. When I first got Herc I loved him as someone who just did things without over thinking. Now as the year went on I think I lost that, a bit, because I was so busy exploring the pressures of his job and how that weighs on him and forces him to overthink more (and also because I am terrible at both being in the moment, and feeling like I have to over-explain all of his motivations for doing something so that people will understand him as a person). Ideally this will be something I come back to though as slowly his confidence as a business owner is growing, he’s almost exactly 1 year in and hasn’t tanked his gym, so he feels slowly better and better. 

I am really proud of having built him a support network that is gradually growing - it’s difficult coming in as a new RP-er with a character who’s supposed to have been around for years. But he now has lots of friendships that feel quite organic.

Pick another character (or the same character if you only have one) and talk a little about where you WANT them to go. What are your plans for them going into the new year? 

Jeremy - So far everyone’s favourite Boy Next Door has been doing what he does best - bimbling along not having too much drama. I have some plans coming up over the Winter break and into the new year that are intended to push him forwards somewhat, both musically and personally. 2023 is going to be the year of The Incidentals baby! He’s going to start getting his name out there, building that reputation as more than just a former choir boy. 

Herc - Eh I wanted to still talk about this actually so. Next year is going to see Herc continuing to build in confidence, but I also really want to see him engage with his powers, with his status as a Magick and to keep facing discomfort, but striding forwards. 

Pick a thread or a plot that you’re proud of and talk about why you loved it. 

- Firstly, the DTR thread with Clementine and Vicky. The thread really summed up the entire point of the Vixerc relationship (RIP but it had to happen to give us Vixxen so you know we won) - two people trying so hard to do everything right that actually they were getting all the basics wrong. Plus chaos, shenanigans, clanging from the kitchen. Thanks for involving me in your Vixxen love story and for writing with me!

- Not to blow my own horn but I am going to that’s the whole point but As Time Goes By. The thing about Jessie that is so unlike any character I’ve ever played before is the sheer depth of backstory that I had worked out even before I applied for her. In many ways the entire story I am trying to tell with her character is one that has already BEEN told, it’s just slowly unfolding to you, the audience. I love adding the layers, revealing more and more why she is the way that she is, and the events that have shaped her, I think it’s a real exercise in character creation for me from body language to appearance I try to craft everything to all tie in to that larger narrative and I can’t wait until some of my little easter-eggs to myself start to pay off.

In terms of your own writing, identify 1-3 strengths and talk about why you think it’s one of your strengths.

In terms of your own writing, identify 1-3 areas of improvement.

With love, not going to answer these - see last question for reason.

Pick one of your plots, or even just a character, and come up with a list of 3-5 “mentor texts” where you can look for inspiration or research, then write a short (2-4 sentences) why you picked those texts. (They don’t have to be books, either!)

Jeremy: 

- Heartstopper. For reasons that may indeed, be obvious. He’s dealing with a crush in a way that is new and kind of unsettling and he doesn’t really know what to do with it. 

- Pitch Perfect. For what is Jeremy Johnson if not Skyler Astin’s character from Pitch Perfect? He’s an acapella guy ... it’s inevitable. 

- Leah on the Offbeat. Again, this is a youngster finding themselves in many many ways. Who do they want to be, who do they like? Self-exploration. Making mistakes and assumptions about other people along the way. 

- Albums by; Passenger, Hozier, Lewis Capaldi, Jack Savoretti, Paolo Nutini. They are all exceptional artists in different ways whose music I draw on a lot, but with a high degree of artistry that can be instructive for Jeremy.

And now, a wishlist! Jot down a few themes or stories or genres etc that you want to maybe pursue in the upcoming year! (i.e. a good ol’ fashion forbidden romance, maybe you want to dig deep into racial identity etc) This doesn’t have to necessarily be attached to any characters or stories you have now– it’s just meant to help you see for yourself what kind of stories call to your heart.

Herc: Let’s throw him back out on the dating scene and watch him make a mess again. Let’s see him use his powers, let’s see him be a HERO! (Let’s see it go to his head and make him a bit full of himself), let’s just keep building those friendships and dynamics and see what happens. 

Jessie: I have got to find an excuse for her to get herself a house and settle and admit she’s staying. I love The Hauntley so much but it would open so many more doors once she admits to herself she’ll be around for a while. Including some neat little interactions I have planned for her move-in.

Jeremy: 2023 baby! Year of the growth! Teenage rebellion coming in a touch late. I want him to explore his sexuality, let’s see him get his heart broken and have his Taylor Swift moment, let’s have his coming out arc with parents and friends. 

OPTIONAL: Why do you RP?

So last winter I had extreme writers block with my thesis and following all the advice started writing some short one-shots based on previous rp characters to share with a friend. In doing so I remembered how much I loved character writing and had missed it. One well-timed plug from Emma later and voila. 

But for me a lot of the reason I write is to practice things I am bad at in real life - to practice being adaptable (Characters like Herc and Jeremy allow me to ‘go with the flow’ and explore unexpected threads and connections), being creative, and to work on my perfectionism. That is why I am refusing to answer the other questions about strengths and weaknesses. I am already plagued by ‘I’m not good enough’ and insecurity without reflecting any more on what I can do better (and trust me even trying to reflect on strengths leads me down a path to that). Writing is the one hobby I have where I am trying to allow myself to not be perfect - so I apologise when my replies are full of typos or don’t make sense, and I apologise because I know I am far from a perfect partner but I am trying to take on board peoples preferences and personal styles etc and be better, without letting myself get to obsessed about being ‘perfect’ all the time. 

Anyway, since we’re coming up to a year, thanks for having me. Thanks for putting up with me. Here’s to better and brighter

[sunkissedpages]

instead of you [part seventeen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol +sex

word count: 1.5k

series masterlist

The flight from Naples to Tokyo took fourteen hours, not including the two and a half hour layover in Istanbul, meaning you had sixteen and a half hours to sit in awkward tension-filled silence next to Sam. The tension was one-sided, of course, but it was still agonizing to endure.

You had been able to push your anxiety aside during your last day in Italy because it had been so busy. There had been a power outage in the middle of the night, causing everyone to oversleep and miss the ferry for one of your tours that morning. It had been a scramble to get back on schedule and do as much as possible with the time you had left. The boys had been hungover and their parents were tired of wrangling them. You had dozens of photos on your camera roll of Sam and Harry bickering when they were supposed to be posing for a nice picture, and even more of Tom flicking them off. 

But now you were stuck alone with your thoughts, unable to use distraction as a means to escape. You tried reading your book, but found yourself unable to concentrate on the words on the page. After staring at the same paragraph for over fifteen minutes Sam noticed and asked if you were okay and you finally decided to call it quits. 

You almost wished the Hollands hadn’t scheduled in a day and a half to adjust to the time zone change. You’d rather exhaust yourself with the nonstop tourist bullshit than have to cope with the reality that you had gotten off to thoughts about your best friend’s brother. Not to mention living with the secret that the same best friend’s brother had kissed you not long before that. 

If Sam noticed anything was off, he didn’t mention it. He probably chalked it up to lack of sleep, or perhaps was too tired himself to care. 

“Which one of us do you think will be randomly selected in customs today?” Harry asked, stretching his arms above his head. 

You were standing in the aisle waiting to deplane, placing bets on who’d get searched by border agents this time. Somehow each time you traveled to a new place one of you was always chosen to get pat down or have your carry-on searched. Tom had yet to be the lucky winner, and you suspected it had something to do with his celebrity status. 

“Y/n,” Tom answered easily. “She has the U.S. passport.”

You rolled your eyes. “Like England has a squeaky clean record with Japan.”

“At least we didn’t-”

“Bro, you can’t say the b word on a plane,” Harry interrupted.

“Even when the plane’s on the ground?”

Sam shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Whatever,” Tom continued. “It’s definitely going to be y/n.”

-

“Would you mind stepping out of line, ma’am?” 

You sighed, not even bothering to look back at the boys. You already knew they were grinning like idiots and you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. The agent ushered you to the side behind a glass partition, but not before you heard another agent repeat the same question to one of the Hollands. You smiled to yourself, happy not to be the only one singled out.

Behind the privacy screen another agent greeted you and asked you to take your sweatshirt off, explaining that it was too baggy and needed to be checked. You saw other people in baggy clothes who weren’t getting pulled out of line, but assumed they didn’t have the red flag of “U.S. Citizen” printed on their identification that would be cause for any additional suspicion. You complied with the agent’s request and pulled your sweatshirt off for them to further inspect.

You were glad you’d worn a sports bra underneath your sweatshirt because you usually didn’t wear anything underneath them. As soon as your head was out of the pullover you immediately met by Tom’s polite smile. 

He averted his eyes as soon as he saw you, pausing his conversation with the official to mumble a quiet ‘sorry��� to you as he was shown to the spot next to yours. 

You zoned out as they spoke, only aware of him again when he started unbuckling his belt. You caught his eye this time. 

“Forgot to take it off,” he explained.

“Sweatshirt’s too loose.”

You both faced forward as the customs officials proceeded through the motions. You were stuck standing there half-naked with your arms wrapped around your chest self-consciously while an agent pat Tom’s legs down. 

“Dad said we can meet them at baggage claim,” Tom said after a few moments of silence between the two of you. “They went on without us.”

“Okay,” you squeaked back in response. 

You knew it wouldn’t take long, but it still made you nervous to be alone with Tom. Sam was like a safety blanket, or a buffer between you and him and without him you were afraid it would be painfully awkward. 

The woman handed you your sweatshirt back and you had to wait for Tom outside of the screening area. He joined you a minute or so later.

“They find any dirt on you?” you asked from where you were leaning against the wall across from the exit. 

“Nope, you?”

“Yeah, actually I’m in custody right now. Can’t believe you missed the handcuffs.”

“Man, what’d they get you for?” 

“Identity theft,” you sighed. 

“Damn, that’s a bummer,” Tom replied, false sympathy rolling off his words. 

He cocked his head in the direction the rest of his family had went, indicating that you should get going, and held out a hand to pull you upright. You took it hesitantly and let him help you. 

“I was actually hoping you could bail me out?” you went on, continuing with the bit. 

Tom made a sound through his teeth and grimaced. “I’m kinda broke right now.”

“Aren’t you an actor?”

“Sorry, but I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“No, you’re definitely the guy!”

“You’re thinking of Tom Hiddleston,” he insisted.

“Remember that IOU you gave me? I’m cashing it in now.”

“That’s not how it works!” 

You laughed. “No, but if I ever actually get arrested I’m using my IOU to get you to bail me out of jail.”

“I don’t think that a kiss and getting bailed out of prison are comparable, but I didn’t put any conditions on that postcard, did I?”

“Nope!” You smiled happily.

“Well that’s on me, so...”

You took the shuttle together to the other side of the airport where the rest of the Hollands were waiting and finally found them with all of your luggage at the furthest carousel from the entrance. 

“It’s about time!” Harry yelled over the crowd as soon as he saw you. 

Sam grinned when he saw you and you couldn’t help but grin back. He wrapped an arm around you instinctively and you relaxed into his shoulder, relieved to be with him again. It hadn’t dawned on you until that moment just how attached you were, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it because the other Hollands were all looking at you expectantly.

“Did everything go okay?” Nikki asked. 

Tom nodded. “They made y/n strip, but it was uneventful otherwise.”

You pursed your lips, cheeks burning. “It was just my sweatshirt!” you hissed to Sam. 

“Yeah, but you never wear anything under your sweatshirts!” Sam hissed back.

“I had a bra on this time.”

“Oh, so it was just another night at the bar for you?” You wrestled yourself out of Sam’s grasp at that and glared. “Am I wrong?”

Sam’s dad cut in before you could respond. He had a habit of calling “family meetings” in the middle of public spaces to finalize plans and get everybody on the same page, which was always an experience. 

“Alright, gather up, gang!” he said, beckoning you all closer. “So we’ll be staying at... this hotel,” he explained and turned his phone around to show you the name of it. “And the thing is, we have two rooms to share between the six of us. One for your mother and I, and another for you four.”

“What?” Sam asked. “You’re going to make us stay with them?”

“I thought we were getting three rooms like every other time,” Tom chimed in.

“We were meant to, but I made a mistake when booking it,” Dom clarified.

“How?”

“The entire website was in Japanese, Sam. I don’t know Japanese!”

“Dad, Google has a translate webpage option!” Harry groaned.

“Well no one told me that while I was booking this entire trip by myself!”

You traded a look with Tom, who looked just as panicked as you felt. But it would only be for a week. You would find a way to manage. You didn’t really have any other option.

“I’m sure it’ll be fun,” Sam tried, forcing a smile.

“That’s the spirit!” Dom cheered. “We’ll make it work.”

sorry she’s short this week :( but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 6 - The First Date [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s a surprise chapter to celebrate TFATWS starting, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: First dates can end in strange ways.

Series Masterlist

Every agent in your division knew the Winter Soldier, the unstoppable assassin, the infamous ghost story, the man who had been fighting for over 80 years. He was a legend, and meeting him was something you were all taught to avoid ever since the espionage world had found out about his existence.

The last time, a whole team of heavily armed soldiers were sent to take him down and he had managed to disarm every single one of them without even needing a weapon. So theoretically if you were to send an agent to meet him, you would probably make sure that agent carried about a thousand weapons and preferably went there in a bulletproof vehicle.

Instead, you were told to wear a cute dress for the first date.

Lovely.

“How come I can’t wear any of my clothes?” you asked, pressing the phone to your ear as you took a look at all the dresses lying on your bed.

“Not that your sniper outfits aren’t hot, but wearing them to your first date with the Winter Soldier might not be the brightest idea.”

You heaved a sigh, “I still can’t believe you changed my whole wardrobe when I was outside, Chloe. What was wrong with my usual clothes?”

“They’re not what your cover would wear.”

“Uh huh.”

“Pick the one with those small flowers on it,” Chloe said, “Mini dress, chiffon. Cream colored.”

You hummed and grabbed the hanger, then held it over your body.

“Are we sure?”

“Trust me. Perfect for the first date.”

“Did mini dresses exist back in his time?” Keith’s voice reached you, making you frown, “Or was he born in those times with those giant dresses?”

“Excuse me, why am I on speaker?” you asked, “Also Keith, what are you doing in the headquarters? I need you and the team ready to interfere anytime.”

“I’m not in the headquarters, I was grabbing coffee and Chloe wanted to come with me. No worries though, we’re around your area.”

“Are you insane?” you snapped, “You brought her to the field?”

“We’re just getting coffee—“

“Chloe, get back to the headquarters,” you insisted, “Now.”

“No! You have a date, Keith gets to relax at this new café, and three of us can barely spend time together nowadays!” Chloe said, “It’s always you guys who have the fun.”

“Honey I’m on a date with the Winter Soldier so that I can gather intel, Keith is going to be at that café because he and the team needs to be nearby in case my cover is blown,” you said patiently, getting into the dress,  “It’s not like we’re hanging out without you.”

“Detail.”

“It’s not just a detail-“

“No I mean the security detail is ready.” Chloe cut you off, “I got my laptop with me, I hacked into the café’s wifi.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, “You did what?”

“Yeah I figured I could use a change of scenery and Keith said yes.”

“Keith, I need you to listen to me carefully,” you said, “I’m going to kill you.”

“Y/N!”

“You can’t kill me.”

“Can’t I though?”

“Yeah you have a date, remember?”

You checked your wristwatch and cussed under your breath, rushing to put your shoes on.

“I put a small gadget into your wristwatch,” Chloe said, “I figured he’d recognize the ring if he saw it again. If you press the button there, the team will be called to your location shortly.”

“And if things get exciting, make sure to take the watch off,” Keith let out a laugh, “You don’t want us to interrupt your fun over an accident.”

“It’s just the first date, idiot.”

“Yeah and I’m—I’m sure there’s a rule against killing on the first date.” Chloe said, “Right?”

“Nah I killed a target on the first date before,” you mumbled, “But I wasn’t told to get into a relationship back then so… It’ll be different this time.”

“Try not to give the guy whiplash though, will you?” Keith said and you frowned.

“What does that mean?”

“It means dating etiquette changed since 1940s.”

“Oh don’t worry, I got that covered,” you said but your head shot up when you heard the doorbell ring. “I have to go.”

“Okay, but—“

“No time Keith,” you murmured, walking to the door. Your heart was pacing against your chest for some reason as if it was a real first date, and you swung the door open to reveal Bucky waiting for you at your doorstep. He put his hands into his leather jacket, taking in your appearance.

“You know what to do if you get in trouble.” Keith said and you hung up quickly to push your phone into your purse, smiling wide at Bucky.

“Hi!” you said, “Shall we?”

                                                         ***

Now to think of it,  the last time you had been on a date without carrying any weapons had to be ten years ago if not more. But you had clear orders for this one, your superiors were convinced that carrying any kind of gun or a dagger would alert him, even if you thought it was invisible to outsider eye.

After all, he was an assassin and looking for weapons on a person from miles away was second nature for assassins.

You would know.

“So you moved here a month ago and you just know one place?” he asked as you waited for the barista to prepare your coffee, “A coffee shop? That’s it?”

“I know a milkshake shop too.”

He tilted his head, “You mean where you work?”

“That still counts,” you defended yourself “But if you insist, I might let you show me around next time.”

“Please do,” he said, “Just a heads up though, there’s a huge possibility that most of the places I know has been closed down years ago.”

“Oh that’s okay,” you told him as the barista put your coffees in front of you. “We can explore the new sights together then.”

A smile graced his lips while he led you to the table furthest from the window facing the door and you had to suppress your grin.

You weren’t the only one who was scanning the cafe for possible emergency exits and safest spots after all. Sitting by the window was a civilian mistake because in case of a shooting, you’d be in the clear sight for the shooter.

You had a feeling not many people considered that possibility on a first date.

“That sounds good,” he pulled your chair for you and you paused only for a moment before taking your seat.

Right. Born in a different era.

He took off his leather jacket and your gaze wandered off to his vibranium arm before snapping back to his eyes. He was watching you with his brows slightly raised, as if waiting to see your reaction.

“Sorry!” You said quickly, “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Bucky—“

“Really,” he assured you, “Don’t worry.”

You took a deep breath, pushing your behind your ear.

“So, it’s good to meet in a place that looks like it belongs to 21st century isn’t it?”

He hissed in a breath, a mischievous light glimmering in his blue eyes “Do you want me to be honest?”

“Brutally honest.”

“I would be lying if I said I don’t miss the uniform.”

Your jaw dropped before a smile spread over your lips, “Look at that,” you said, “Told you you weren’t rusty.”

He chuckled, “I’d hope not.”

“And hey, if you miss how it was back then, some things aren’t that different than 40s,” you said, cradling the warm cup in your hands. He tilted his head.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Like what?”

“You know, I’m glad you asked because I actually did research in case it came up.”

He lowered his cup, “You did what?”

“Um… do you promise not to be intimidated if I am brutally honest?”

He leaned in, eyes locked to yours, “Cross my heart.”

“I did research,” you nodded, making him let out a small laugh. “No wait, listen— I just… I didn’t google you or stalk you over Instagram so I had to prepare myself in a different way.”

“I know some of those words,” he pointed out and you took a deep breath.

“It means I didn’t look you up.” you said, “When I was sixteen, I promised myself I wouldn’t look anyone up before the first date but that rule doesn’t extend to doing general research.”

“You didn’t look me up?” he asked and you shook your head.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I like getting to know people on my own,” you said, “I’m not really interested in people’s pasts, does that make sense?”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Maybe not,” you admitted, “But I’ll do it anyway. Trusting people is kind of my thing, past or not. I’d rather be mistaken than prejudiced.”

A silence fell upon him as if he was astounded and you rested your chin on your fist, keeping your eyes on him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said after a beat, “Nothing at all.”

“So—anyways, some things aren’t that different,” you said, leaning back, “Some details, that is. People still— we still go to movie theatres, that was a big thing back then too right?”

“Oh absolutely,” he said, “For first dates too.”

“We still wear hats sometimes,” you counted with your fingers, “Some people still prefer to call their partners daddy—in a different context, don’t google that— and we still have jello.”

“I heard about that,” he mused, a playful smile on his lips, “The jello, that is.”  

You grinned, scrunching up your nose.

“So yeah. There’s your crash course.”

“I appreciate it,” he said with a chuckle, “And hey, if it makes you feel any better I didn’t google you either.”

“Because you don’t know how?”

“Because I don’t know how,” he admitted, “I should probably start making a list, I keep asking Sam about some pretty common information.”

“Really?”

“Yeah I mean—for example, I don’t know if it’s still acceptable to bring a gal-a girl,” he corrected himself and cleared his throat, “Flowers for the first date.”

“You were going to bring me flowers?”

“Yeah! Yeah . I was going to actually, then Sam said it was old fashioned. Sharon said it was a good idea, but…”

You furrowed your brows, “Okay let me get this straight, you listened to your friend who’s a guy and not your other friend who’s a girl. About what girls like on the first date.”

A look of realization dawned on his face, “That might not have been the brightest idea now that you mentioned it.”

“No disrespect to Captain America but he might need to work on his romance skills,” you pointed out and took a sip of your coffee.

“How about you?” he asked, “What’s your story?”

I was recruited at the age of 16, just last year I took down a whole team of bad guys all by myself, I could probably kill someone in 5 different ways using this coffee cup and spoon alone.

Or not.

You had been over this. You had a full file back at home filled with details of your new identity, designed to look unsuspicious.

“There’s not much to tell I’m afraid,” you muttered, “I grew up in a small town. Everyone knew each other, and I thought it was nice, until my grandmother passed away. Then there were way too many people asking me if I was okay. In the grocery store, on my way to work… I just wanted to get away.”

“I know the feeling,” he said softly and you nodded.

Of course he did. This whole identity was fabricated for him after all.

“So I figured I could move away,” you said, “There was nothing to keep me there after all. I lost my parents when I was little, that was the reason why my grandmother took me in.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh don’t be,” you said quickly, “Really. They just….”

My mom died in a car crash when I was 5, and one day I came home from school and my father was nowhere to be found.

Neither was his suitcase.

You had to give it to him, he had bothered to write you a note. If you could call that a note.

The infamous genius scientist had nothing to say other than he was sorry. You had burned that note that night, along with every picture in the family album.

“There was a car accident,” you tried to smile, ignoring the bitter taste at the back of your throat, “Drunk driver, came out of nowhere. They both died on impact, that’s what everyone says. I don’t remember them much.”

A silence fell upon you for a moment and you took a deep breath.

“Anyways,” you managed to say, “Enough about me. What about you?”

He paused before turning the cup between his hands, “That’s kind of a long story,” he said, making you arch a brow to shoot him a look.

“Well as it happens, my milkshake making schedule just cleared out.” you stated, making him smile, “We have unlimited coffee and time. Bring it on.”

                                               ***

Well, you didn’t know what you had expected but it wasn’t this. Considering he was under the impression that you were a civilian, of course he didn’t tell you any gory or top secret details but he didn’t try to make himself look innocent either, or any different than he was.

He was as sincere as an ex-assassin could be.

Cover or not, this was probably the best date you had ever been. In fact, after the first half an hour you almost forgot that it was fake, that you were supposed to dig for information instead of enjoying yourself.

You were still playing your part but it didn’t exactly feel like work.

“So no to motorcycles?” Bucky asked as you turned around to look at him better while you walked backwards.

“No to motorcycles!” you exclaimed, “Those things are deathtraps.”

“So when you said you couldn’t get on it because of your dress….”

“It wasn’t a complete lie,” you motioned at your dress, “Half because of the dress, half because I don’t want to die.”

“Do you seriously believe I’d let that happen?”

“Maybe.”

“Mmm and what was it you said earlier?” he taunted you, “About trusting people?”

“I trust people,” you insisted, “I don’t trust death machines, there’s a difference.”

Well, he didn’t need to know you had a motorcycle in Chloe’s garage.

“Here we are,” you pointed at the building standing a couple of feet away from you, “My apartment. See, I told you it was close. No reason for putting our lives in danger when we can just walk.”

“Does that mean I can’t show you around the city the next time?”

“On a motorcycle?”

“Mm hm.”

“I don’t—that’s a terrible….” You heaved a dramatic sigh, “Hypothetically speaking, what would I get in return?”

His smile was calm, almost amused, “What do you want to get in return?”

You crossed your arms, looking up at the sky as if you were deep in thought, completely aware of his gaze on you.

“Flowers,” you said after a beat, “I didn’t even know they were an option but now that I know, I want flowers.”

“Is that it?” he asked, “It’s ‘a death machine’, but flowers are enough to convince you?”

“Depends,” you mused silkily, a complete opposite of the wide-eyed look in your eyes as you batted your lashes, “What else do you want me to want?”

A shadow moved behind his gaze only for a moment before it disappeared again but it was more than enough time for you to see it, and that was when you realized that there was a reason why Chloe had sent you that file.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t completely a stammering love-struck puppy when it came to flirting. While it was true that he could be a little rusty –you didn’t know how he was back in the 40s-, he also knew when to stop talking to see how far you would go in this game.

He was letting you play and think you were in control before making his move.

Patience of a sniper.

“Um- thank- thank you for tonight,” you said, averting your glances as if you were embarrassed under his gaze, playing it coy, “I had so much fun.”

“Me too,” he said, “The next one will include flowers, I promise.”

You let out a nervous giggle and stepped closer to him before you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss on his cheek. He inhaled your scent deeply, probably not even aware of what he was doing but you tried to hide your smile.

It was on the file Chloe had prepared about him. Bucky Barnes liked the scent of vanilla.

“Be careful riding that death machine,” you told him, biting on your lip before you made your way to the building. You hopped on the stairs to push the exterior door to get into the building, and pressed a hand on your chest, closing your eyes.

Why were you so giddy all of a sudden?

You threw your shoulders back and got into the elevator to press on the button to your floor. As soon as the elevator started to move, your reflection in the mirror caught your attention and you tilted your head.

Chloe had a point, it was a nice dress.

The elevator made a small noise and the doors slid open for you to pass, but when you entered the hall you stopped dead on your tracks. There were four agents waiting on your doorstep and before you could question what was happening, one of the doors in the hallways opened and Keith stepped out.

“Be careful riding that death machine?” he asked, “I could tell you the same thing but you didn’t invite him up here.”

“I wasn’t wearing a wire, how did you-?”

“We had a car around the corner just in case,” he said “You’d be surprised how far we can hear with these new gadgets.”

“I told everyone we can’t—“ you stopped yourself, taking a deep breath. “What are you doing here and why are there agents at my doorstep?”

He grinned at you, “How do you feel about being neighbors?”

“I feel fuck no about it, and why are there agents—“

“General is waiting for you in your apartment.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, “What?” you asked as you walked past him and opened the door to your apartment, then stepped in.

“General?” you rasped out as you walked into the living room to find him there, sitting by himself.

“Shrike,” he greeted you, “Good evening.”

You tried to smile, “Good evening sir.”

“I wanted to see how the mission was going,” he said, “Your team says it’s been very successful so far.”

“It’s going according to plan sir, yes.”

“This was what, your first date?”

You licked your dry lips, commanding yourself to be calm. “Yes.”

He hummed and stood up, running a hand over his gray beard, his eyes darting around the room.

“Y/N,” he murmured, making your head shot up at hearing your name instead of your alias. “It’s possible that the last time we talked face to face about your mission, I came across a little…uncaring. I want you to know that it’s not easy for me either.”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

“You’re like a daughter to me,” he said, “For me, putting you on this mission was no different than sending Chloe into Barnes’s bed. Granted you have an edge and proper training for field missions like these unlike her, but…”

Right. Manipulation of Enemy.

A.k.a the seduction class.

Your superior had almost failed you in that class.

“But all your superiors in the division is aware of your success so far,” he said, “There has been no hiccups, nothing to alert him which is a surprise. You’re playing your role well, and we will keep that in mind after this mission is over. You’re at the top of our list for possible handlers.”

For the first time in your life, that didn’t make you fill with excitement for some reason. You frowned at yourself and plastered a smile on your face.

“Thank you sir.”

“Anything you would like to report so far?”

“I’m going slowly in order to make sure I gain his trust,” you said, “But sir, there’s a reason why I didn’t even wear my earpiece tonight. Barnes is a pro, anything could make him suspicious and putting agents in cars to listen to us… That could go wrong.”

“You want to be completely alone on this mission?”

“I still want to have my team, but I want them to be completely invisible. I already have a tracker and an emergency signal on my wristwatch, but unless I specifically call for them, they need to be away. I can’t risk anyone compromising my cover, even if it’s unintentional by my team.”

He thought for a moment, “I see,” he said, “You make a good point. I’ll make the necessary adjustments.”

“Thank you General.”

He squeezed your upper arm as if trying to assure you and walked to the door, then turned around.

“Shrike?”

“Yes sir?”

“You’ve heard what happened to Marco, right?” he asked, “He was one of our best agents but got too involved in his seduction mission.”

You swallowed thickly, “I heard he’s missing.”

A small smile pulled at his lips, “That’s right. He was removed from his mission, then went missing.”

Killed.

He was killed by the agency when he fell for his target and both of you knew that.

“That’s unfortunate,” you managed to say and he nodded.

“It is,” he said, “Don’t make the same mistake. Actions have consequences.”

With that, he left your apartment and you let out a breath as you fell back to sit on the couch, your hands shaking.

“Yeah,” you muttered to yourself, “Yeah they do.”

Chapter 7