#Slippery Spearhead

[play-my-game]

Hi can you please add some cards incorporating anal submission or anal punishment.

Well, first, I want to note that I created this as a game, so every card can be declined therefore I don't think it should be used as a way to enforce punishment.

If my partner needs, for a reason or another, to be punished because a rule's been broken, it's a complete different part of our relationship and it got its own, very clear, protocol. Rules are set and need to be followed, and it's not part of a game.

Now regarding anal submission, or anal play overall, I think there are already a fair number in the archives, so you may want to try the 6 first tags I put below.

But if not enough, I pushed two more in the queue to go out today, and here's another one.

#Screaming stare #Slippery Spearhead #Jewelry collection #Chained plug #Gingerbread #Bahia Emerald #AMA #Plug #Solitary pleasure #Plug of the day #This week

[jjafterdark]

Princess

Dragon / Human NSFW

I had two hearts but the second one hasn’t worked for centuries. The scar over the top of it is gone, my skin shed many times over, but there’s a spearhead in there somewhere, rattling around with the other ghosts. I still haven’t seen all of the knight from last month. That’s what happens when you swallow plate armor. You have to count out all the pieces and wait. 

More knights will come, but hopefully not in metal. Leather sits easier on the stomach.

“Again,” she says, and I cover her in a blanket of unmarked scales. Somehow she finds it anyway—the place where my second heart used to beat. I tire more easily without it, flying is harder, but when she covers it with her palm I swear I can feel it trembling. 

Rocking slit to slit with her, you would never know how much of me she can hold. It looks like nothing from the outside, just two slippery seams glistening wetly together, but there's a tiny flash of pink on the back tilt, when her hips angle slightly away. You can see me nestled in there if you look closely, because she has taken everything.

The knights call her their princess. They promise to protect her, to save her. 

“Yes, of course they do,” she answers, throwing her arm over her head and drawing me deeper. “They always want to save us from our desire.”

When I spill into her, you can’t see that from the outside, either. I have her plugged like a bottle of sweet honey wine, my knot swollen and covetous. Her fingers tighten along the hinge of my jaw and she pulls our foreheads together, shuddering and arching and still trying to take more, even as I flood her.

The knights call her their princess, but she can’t be that. Princesses don’t rule anything and she rules all of me.

#monster romance #monster fucker #dragon x human #monster imagine #monster boyfriend #terat0philia #this is the thing that sunna would not let me finish writing #she's like 'don't write the naughties about my people' #cockblocking parrot #my bird is a friggin prude

[sylvies-chen]

treasure me

JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera

Warnings: none

Summary: Treasure (n.) - a quantity of precious metals, gems, or other valuable objects. OR: JJ finds a pearl and thinks of Kiara.

A/N: @alphinias this is for you!! my quick little ficlet of the ultimate jiara & everlark parallel. it’s my first ever jiara fanfic and it’s very scrappy because I literally wrote this in one day, but I just couldn’t help myself. I hope you all like it! also, I’ll be posting it to AO3 soon! I promise! (EDIT: I just realized that tumblr literally ate up an entire paragraph and I couldn't restore it because I wrote this in my notes app, so I tried patching it up but apologies if it seems a little choppy in the very beginning or if there are doubles of certain lines.)

••••••••

There are a lot of reasons why being stranded on an island should spark a particular envy towards rich people.

And yet, as he sits by the water with wet sand between his toes, JJ feels no hint of envy whatsoever. He probably should, and has certainly felt that jealousy millions of times, but he isn’t. Because he’s knee-deep in oysters and clams, and jesus christ, what kind of drugs are rich people on?

Oysters are fucking disgusting.

They may smell like ass, but he didn't know that then. So sue him, he went overboard.

They may smell like ass, but he didn't know that then. So sue him, he went overboard.

The smell isn’t the only thing. When he takes the spear from his fishing mission with Kie to pry one of them open, the oyster opens up to reveal a foul, beige sort of… mucus?

Okay, he thinks, maybe the one he’s opened is just bad. Like, some other fish killed it and this is just a rotting oyster corpse that wasn’t buried deep enough. He picks a second one up, weighing it in the palm of his hand thoughtfully before going in with the spearhead and prying the small clam open.

Much to his disappointment, it’s still slimy mush.

Great. It smells bad and looks bad. At this rate, he doesn’t want to eat like a king. As a matter of fact, he’s never been happier to be a pogue. He’s had his share of mussels and shellfish before, which were delicious, but he’s never had real market price oysters or anything and he certainly has never handled them himself. Only rich people would be deranged enough to touch this stuff, nevermind guzzle this down. Honestly, it’s nauseating. The stuff is slippery, evades his touch when he pokes a finger into the flesh, and— “Ew,” he says out loud this time as he frantically retracts his finger, because there’s something legitimately moving inside of this goddamn freak of nature.

But then, curiosity gets the better of him. Clearly the thing is dead, if it hasn’t clamped down on his hand yet, right? So whatever’s moving in there must be something else.

It’s only after a moment of poking his finger around in the oyster again, when he feels something round and smooth, does JJ remember: oysters hold pearls.

Ah, so that’s why rich people like them so much. For them, eating them is probably like dominating a creature as punishment for withholding something shiny from their greedy hands.

He keeps poking around, massaging the flesh with his finger until an opening is found and a small pearl rolls out effortlessly.

The pearl isn’t white like he expected it to be. Instead, it’s a kind of steel blue so dark that to the unsuspecting eye, it’s just black. Matte but glimmering, the pearl sits lightly in the palm of his hand now. He discards the oyster shell and starts kicking all the other unopened shells back into the water. None of them matter anymore. Original plans be damned.

This pearl. Something about it is enchanting, feels precious and familiar. And maybe it’s just because he used the fishing spear to retrieve the pearl that he thinks of Kiara, or that he associates pearls with jewellery. But he thinks of her nonetheless.

The others are trying to gather materials for a fire, and he knows he should be helping with that. And yet, the pearl chains him here, sitting in the sand and looking out on an island they don’t have a name for. It’s a unnameable place, host to an unnameable feeling sinking into him.

Or maybe it’s not unnameable at all, because he rolls the pearl back and forth in his hand and it’s Kiara. He thinks of her, and feels her in the weight of the smooth stone. The feeling he has is her, and so is the stone. It just is.

Warm wind blows in his hair, and pulls his eyes away from the view to his left side, where Kie is standing.

“Mind if I join you?”

She’s already starting to sit down next to him before he can muster a spoken answer, so he just shrugs in the affirmative. Instinctively, his hand closes into a gentle fist around the pearl, concealing it but never putting it at risk of breaking.

“I love it out here,” he says, and it’s true.

“Me too.” She smiles, first at him, something genuine and incomprehensible, and then out at the view, crisp blue sky and waves included. “I mean, I miss having a comfy bed and all, but with a view like this who could even think to close their eyes and miss it?”

JJ looks out to the view (reluctantly, because Kie’s admittedly a whole other kind of view he loves), finally starting to smile himself. “Yep, it’s a pretty sweet view. Makes all the crazy shit we’ve been through worthwhile.”

“Is that why you’re out here instead of with the others?”

“Nah,” he says, “I was just trying to get some oysters.”

“I know.”

He snaps his head back in her direction to find her looking at him again. “You do?”

Kiara nods. “I saw you just a minute ago, huffing and puffing trying to open one. You talk to yourself all the time?”

“Only when cursing at disgusting sea slime,” he tells her, in a dry sort of humour as he shakes his head. “Fuckin’s oysters.”

As if smelling them in her thoughts, she scrunches her nose up in that cute way she does and winces with a smile. “They do smell pretty gross, don’t they?”

“Yeah, they’re awful,” he laughs, and laughs some more until it dies down and he settles into a calmer state. “S’not all that bad, though. Look.”

Cautiously, he stretches his fist out between them and opens his clasped palm to reveal the pearl that he found.

“Wow,” she says, sucking in a sharp breath of awe. “It’s gorgeous.”

And then, before he can even understand why what he’s doing feels so right, he does something unpredictable.

“Here,” he says. “For you.”

She blinks, her gaze softening into something dangerously alluring and, above all else, confusing. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he assures her, and suddenly starts to feel uncertain about it which makes things insufferably awkward. “It seems like you. I don’t know. You don’t have to if you don’t—”

The words stumble out of him as he tries to stop himself from revealing all the delicate parts of him that are partial to her.

But she grabs the side of his hand ever so gently, yet still with alarm. “No,” Kie interjects firmly, stopping JJ’s world with one look and holding that glance as she slowly glides her fingers into his palm. She removes the pearl. He lets her. “I love it. Thank you.”

She looks down at the dark pearl now in her hand, and smiles. That alone causes a wave of relief to wash over his whole body, swooping his tension away with the tides.

Still, for his own comfort, he adds, “Just don’t go losing it or anything because, y’know, it’s probably like, some super rare special kind of pearl that’s worth a million dollars or something so…”

“Right,” she chuckles sweetly, standing up from the sand. She’s still laughing as she ruffles his hair with her spare hand. “I’ll make sure to keep it on me at all times, and cherish it forever.”

“I’m serious,” he calls out to her as she starts to walk away.

As she turns around to face him again, still walking, she replies, “So am I.”

She says it with a lip-biting smirk that leads JJ to worry for a moment that maybe she’s just fucking with him, that she hates it, that he said something stupid. But then she takes the fist with the pearl in it and holds it to her heart. Her smile becomes more sincere and affectionate, and it stirs something fierce in JJ’s heart, and he knows she is serious. She really will keep it safe and cherish it.

It’s then that he decides that maybe he likes giving Kiara things.

••••••••

Kiara’s POV - a while later…

••••••••

“Kiara, dear, come on out!”

Kie lets out a pouting huff as she looks at herself in the mirror one last time. Her mother is waiting for— well, for this more than her. This dress, this look, this reformed version of her. Kiara looks at it in the mirror, inspects the semblance of elegance that she pulls off in the formal floral dress she finds herself in, and feels so uncomfortably dissociated from her reflection. Half of her thinks she should be used to it by now, and the other half knows she never will be.

Her mother is waiting for her though, so she ignores both halves of her heart and begrudgingly pulls back the curtain to show her the dress.

Instantly, her mom’s eyes sparkle with an excitement like ecstasy, something Kiara used to mistake for pride and love.

“Oh, dear! You look beautiful!” She clasps her hands together and then moves them to Kiara’s shoulders, herding her into a spin.

So Kiara has no choice but to comply, doing a full 360-degree rotation as her mother coos and gasps in awe. Nevermind that she’s been frowning the whole time. Nevermind that she’s already had her fair share of clothing and dresses picked our for her in harrowing situations over these last few weeks, none of which have felt remotely comfortable. Nevermind that she just wants to dress like herself for on goddamn night, not have all these greedy adults with nefarious agendas treating her like a doll or a prop. Things like that don’t matter to her mother. After all, she didn’t even bother to ask.

“Oh yes, this is the one,” she decides. “It’ll work perfectly for the anniversary party.”

“I don’t know…” Kie hesitates, and fights the urge to slag her shoulders a bit. “This isn’t exactly what I’m used to.”

“Well it shouldn’t be, dear. These things aren’t supposed to be comfortable, after all. But oh! I almost forgot,” she remembers, “the jewellery. That’ll really tie it all together. I saw a piece I thought would go nicely with your dress, hang on.”

She scurries away excitedly to fetch whatever dazzling necklace she has in store, and her sudden yet momentary absence allows Kiara’s anxiety to bubble to the surface. To calm herself, she instinctively moves her hand up to the necklace she has on now, and its small charm. The familiar steely blue pearl rolls easily between her fingers, its smooth surface reminding her of a sweeter, more boundless time when she felt most alive, most exhilarated and, perhaps, most in love with the person who gave it to her. So much so that she’d wrapped it in twine and pieced together some sort of necklace out of it, just to have it on her at all times.

Her mother comes back, and Kiara rips the necklace off of her own neck frantically, as if protecting buried treasure, or the last remaining part of herself that’s truly her. (The part of her that, in all honest truth, is JJ’s.) She holds it in the palm of her hands and stuffs it in the pocket of her dress which, to her, is the only real upside to this dress.

“Here we are,” her mother says, bringing out her necklace and parting Kiara’s hair at the back to put it on her. Kie can immediately feel how heavy it is. Big, clunky, jewel-studded. It’s gaudy, and she rolls her eyes. Her mother, still behind her, doesn’t see it.

Instead, her mom holds a hand mirror over her shoulder and tilts it at just the right angle so that Kiara can see the necklace. Just as she expected, it’s a gigantic, kook-like, showy statement piece of a necklace that could be objectively nice in the right setting, but just isn’t her.

It’s so ridiculous that she lets out a wild burst of laughter. Her mom pulls the mirror away, and Kiara knows instantly that she reacted the wrong way.

“What? What’s so funny?” She asks.

“Nothing! Nothing,” she tries assuring her mother, though she still feels her cheeks sore and stretched into a smile, fighting back laughter. “It’s fine, it’s a fine necklace.”

Her mother’s face sinks, flattens into something deadpan and sad. “You hate it.”

“No, I—” she tries sobering up to reality and putting on a good face again, because she really doesn’t want to get into it with her mother. “I don’t hate it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kiara,” she sighs. “I’m your mother. You think just because you go off gallivanting with your friends that I can’t tell when you like or dislike something?”

Kie finally lets her shoulder sag. “Mom, I swear I don’t hate the necklace. It—It’s fine, it is. It’s just… it’s not really me.”

“I don’t get it,” her mother says.

Sadly, there’s the crux of it all. Kiara knows her mom truly does not understand it; she never had and never will, no matter how much she tries (or doesn’t). There’s a pitiful sort of disconnect between them, one that spawned into full fruition from the moment Kiara realized what kind of life she wanted for herself, from the moment she kissed JJ, and maybe even from the moment she met the guys. It was never going to work. This life was never meant for her.

Kiara thinks for one second, brows furrowing, and then slowly takes the necklace off. Delicately placing it back in its casing, she then grabs her necklace out of her pocket and puts it back on herself.

When she walks back over to her mother, who’s watching Kie with wildly confused eyes, she pinches the pearl between her index and her thumb and lifts it up to show her mom.

“This is me, mom,” she tells her. She drops the pearl but clasps a palm over it, holding the charm to the part of her chest right over her heart, just like she had in Poguelandia when she’d told thanked JJ for it and said she’d keep it safe. “This is me.”

“Okay…” Her mom says, though Kie can tell she doesn’t actually get it and is just trying to smooth things over. “Well, I’m sure you can wear whatever jewellery you want to the party. Pearls are very classic too. Now come on, let’s find your nice heels.”

Again, Kiara rolls her eyes. Her mom grabs her hand and drags her away, down and under to a world of someone else’s cruel creation. And though she is not ready for all of the hellish kook antics, the fake smiles and speeches, and above all else the complications with her and JJ, she rolls that gorgeous, simple, precious pearl between her fingers over and over, religiously, until she’s reminded of all the goodness in her life. With JJ, with the rest of the pogues, in the dream they share.

It’s enough to keep her going, running on a fuel of everything that makes it worthwhile.

#abby writes #outer banks #obx #obx3 #jiara #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jj x kiara #jj x kie #kiara x jj #kie x jj

[obihiro-division]

Jack’s Thoughts on Arakawa Division

Alexis Ward

“The CIA? I wasn’t informed of… Oh, apologies. It’s quite unexpected to see an operative in Japan, especially in a public setting so to say. My knowledge on how the Americans operate is very limited. But thanks to my young master’s mother, the former CIRO director, I can make a guess on a few things. From what little I’ve learned working for the mistress, the relationship between countries have been fickle. Not to mention how the Party of Words have usurped the government in recent, its no wonder the United States of America is a little more than concerned about what is occurring here. Still, I hope that Ms. Ward isn’t planning to spearhead something extreme. It would be an inconvenience… Not just to the D.R.B. participants, but to everyone in the country if something were to break out again.”

Hoàng Diệu

“Hoàng Diệu? M-My, the Lotus Bloom Jewelry owner, yes? I’ve heard it once or twice. Young master’s brothers have bought her products. Master Akimi in particular purchases her works for his wife. She’s fond of her lotus jewelry, as it is one of her favorite flowers. My knowledge about her otherwise is quite limited. And her presence does perturbs me ever so slightly. It is probably just me worrying over nothing however, so I wouldn’t press the issue.”

Ivelisse Martinez

“A yoga instructor. That most certainly eases my nerves.”

“I personally don’t participate in yoga as much as you might expect. I’ve tried to take a couple classes back in the UK since its insanely popular in the country. I just prefer to do more exhilarating activities. Not to say I don’t practice some of their techniques in my own freetime. Outside of basic stretches, meditation is something I do frequently. The pose that is commonly done as a part of it can feel like a trap though. I find myself listening to the silence and falling asleep on the floor more often than meditating. It’s a slippery slope of relaxation fufu~ I wonder if Ms. Martinez finds her students doing the same in her classes.”

Sounds of Silence

“It is a little difficult for me to wrap my head around this group. I suppose they are as balanced as they can be for a team. I just… Sorry, it’s difficult to articulate what I wish to say. This team might be a challenge for us. I look forward to facing them on stage.”

“Damnit, I need to make some calls. Why the hell the Americans getting involved?”

#hypmic #hypnosis mic #hypnosis microphone #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #hypnosis microphone oc #obihiro division #veiled vanguard #jack verrill #arakawa division #sounds of silence #alexis ward #hoàng diệu #ivelisse martinez

[eliaskahtri]

A Reunion Over Peascake || Elias & Regan

TIMING: October 7th, during the day (Current)

LOCATION: Downtown Wicked’s Rest

PARTIES: Elias (@eliaskahtri ) & Regan (@kadavernagh)

SUMMARY: Regan sees a familiar face, but that can't be... Elias, could it?

CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of prescription medication use

The Office of Medical Examiner vans had moved out, body in transit, and Regan departed the scene, thankful for the chill of fall air against her hot winter coat when she stepped outside. It had been an accident… probably. A bad fall on the slippery floor of a kitchen met with a cracked skull. Quick. Easy. She’d give this one to Rickers; it held little interest to her. But as she stepped away from The Peascake Factory (with a purchase of a peascake to-go in hand, the last thing her decedent would ever cook), deja vu hit her like a wall. This street… night time. Regan looked down the road and realized what it was – that place, the fae pub, was nearby. Where she’d initially met Elias.

She had set up a Google alert for his name, hoping she could track his whereabouts and at least determine whether or not he was alright. Or alive. Would she know if he had died, even if he were halfway around the world? She wasn’t sure. Cliodhna had told her that if a bond were forged deep enough, she would still scream, no matter the distance. But, of course, humans were not worthy of such a connection. It didn’t matter. He seemed fine, from what she’d read. She hadn’t been expecting to find anything, but a few weeks after Elias left, the headlines started rolling in. “Cybernetic breakthrough spearheaded by genius upstart” and “The revolution in prosthetics is here”. On paper, it matched what she’d known about Elias’s background, the research he was involved in back in California, but the whole thing felt spun out of some alternate reality, and Regan eventually needed to silence the alert.

Rather than go near the place, she turned in the other direction to walk toward the busy intersection. Fewer fae. It suited her better. The plastic Peascake Factory bag crinkled in her tightening grip. She still nearly dropped it when she saw a tall, slender figure crossing the street, dressed for business. His back was to her, but his hair – and when he turned, she saw the beard. There was a woman with him. She had an elegant and easy sort of beauty, her dark hair appearing professionally styled, though she probably woke up that way. Her attire matched his – curt and professional. Doubt flooded her. There was no way that could have been Elias. She had just been thinking about him. She snuffed out the phrase wishful thinking from her thoughts, obliterating any trace of it.

This was curiosity. That was all. “Elias?” Regan called out, confusion creasing her forehead. She tried one more time. “Elias!” 

It had been a very busy past few months for Elias. Between telling his father he was getting his old job back (which he had been quite thrilled about) and finishing the project that was destined to fail, and fail it had, without him, he found himself in the limelight. A light he didn’t want. The things that had happened in Wicked’s Rest had blessingly turned into a distant memory he didn’t dwell on save for late at night right as he was about to fall asleep. The friends he had abandoned so readily just as he had abandoned his previous life like it was nothing. He felt like everything he had acquired wasn’t deserved. 

He finished the prosthetic arm, and it worked. Well, of course it worked. He was a genius, after all (not that he acted like it). When he had received an offer to work on further research at the hospital in Wicked’s Rest, he had almost immediately declined. But a chance to continue doing what he was good at as well as go back to the life he had started to carve out for himself? It was almost too good to pass up. So before he knew it, he was driving across the country with a moving truck full of his stuff and into a rental apartment in the heart of downtown. Thanks to Naya, his assistant. An assistant. He had an assistant. In all his life he never would have expected this to happen to him.

After grabbing lunch with Naya, they walked through downtown Wicked’s Rest, mostly to show her around than reacquaint himself with the area. He had purposely avoided getting close to that damn bar, the bar that had blown a hole in reality for him. It left him stumbling out of that house in the middle of the night and driving off. No note, nothing. He was just gone. He changed his number and pretended that faeries didn’t exist. Nope, they definitely don’t exist and it was just a lapse in sanity. Good thing those new meds the doctor got him on were working. Nothing but a case of delusions and hallucinations. Good ol’ medication, that one.

“I start interviews for the open positions on Monday,” he was telling her as he heard a very familiar voice call out to him. He froze where he stood, eyes going wide as he whispered for Naya to wait for him at the car. He didn’t want to turn around. He wanted to keep moving and go about his day, he had to continue setting up his office in his apartment. Naya had been lucky enough to secure the unit across the hall, so she was available at all hours to him whether he wanted her to be or not. Very dedicated, that one. He hoped she wouldn’t burn out as hard as he had. Burn out enough to believe that faeries were real and get himself on some heavy duty psychiatric medication. 

Closing his eyes tightly and letting out a sigh, Elias finally turned around to see Regan. He expected himself to be awkward and uncomfortable, but instead, his face went from deer in the headlights to softened and relieved. “Regan.” He said back, quickly hurrying over to her with a bright smile on his face. Whether he wanted to or not, he cared deeply about the woman that refused to call him her friend. They had shared bad yogurt together, dead rats in yogurt together, she had hired him when he needed it, they had seen an eldritch otherworldly being at the other yogurt shop together… Whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not, she was kind. She was… Regan. “I, uh…” he sighed, shaking his head. “I owe you an explanation.” His shoulders drooped, the weight of what he had done finally hitting him like a load of bricks.

“I thought that faeries were real, and ran back home to California.” He admitted, running a hand through his hair as he stared over her shoulder, too embarrassed to look her in the eyes. “And that landed me in hot water with a therapist, and now I’m medicated. And then I finished my prosthesis and that got me way more success than I wanted and now I’m here. Working out of the hospital.” He shrugged his shoulders, in a what-can-you-do manner. “And I didn’t say a damn word to you.” His face fell, realizing how badly he had screwed everything up. “And I’m so sorry.”

Regan was not sure she had seen Elias’s eyes swell to this size before. They were big, brown, and growing softer by the second… and part of Regan wished she could scoop her own eyes – probably just as large – from her skull so she didn’t need to look at him. Her eyes would betray her. She realized almost immediately after calling his name that it was probably a mistake. She was leaving. Why intrude on whatever peace Elias had found only to be the one to leave this time? Hard-won peace, probably. “I don’t – sorry, I shouldn’t have – I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Again. Ever again.” Her mouth went dry but as Elias said he owed the explanation, she didn’t feel quite so intrusive. “You look – I mean, you could be dressed for court right now. Not that – I know you left the job. Obviously. At the Medical Examiner’s Office. But you’re wearing – nevermind. Also, who is the woman? What are you doing h– are you visiting? Coming back? I – right.” She shut up and let him explain.

Almost immediately, he mentioned the faeries. And Regan’s keyed up energy deflated like a punctured bladder. The Peascake Factory bag drooped almost down to the sidewalk. The way the two of them had left things was not right. Although, Elias leaving town – and leaving his employment – without warning cemented that she had been correct to want to keep him away from that case. He could not handle it. Humans could not. No human could, however capable they thought themselves. What she didn’t know was whether or not he had internalized anything; had he truly realized what he was looking at, that his suspicions were correct… or had he shed it just as easily as everything else? Regan dared to hope it was the latter. If he told anyone else about the case, about the bar, things could get even worse. And Elias would be inextricably involved, pulled back into what he tried to run from. 

Guilt tinged the inside of her mouth like acid when he mentioned therapy, medication. Neuroleptics were not the answer to his problem; iron was. But Elias had clearly put it behind himself enough to find success exactly where he wanted to. And for that, Regan could absolve herself of a lot. “Don’t… don’t worry about it. I know you ran. You left your planner behind. The one with all of those colonial women on it.” She hesitated for a second but then admitted it. “I checked. There was nothing in there about you planning to leave. I’ll, um, give that back to you, by the way.” She rubbed the back of her neck through the coat. “I know about your success, too. I found it. You can set up alerts on the internet. For example, if you want to know about any nearby endangered bog lemming carcasses that have been found, you can set up an alert for ‘endangered bog lemming carcass Maine’. Nothing there yet, though.” She waved a hand. Didn’t matter. “Congratulations. I am… pleased for you.” There was a question she desperately wanted to ask. The mention of the hospital gave her hope the answer would be no. She shuffled a little off to the side so they were closer to one of the buildings, not so near the street and pedestrian crosswalk. “The bar. You’re not going back there, are you? You’re only working at the hospital now?”

Regan’s questions were valid, Elias knew that. After all, who came back to the place they ran away in terror from? His gaze cast downward at the sidewalk, tapping his foot at a rapid pace, anxiety building before he took a deep breath and willed the panic away. He couldn’t let himself get worked up, not again. “I’m heading a research team at the hospital for the cybernetic I created. That woman you saw, Naya, she’s my assistant.” He frowned, hating the fact that he even needed one of those. “Unfortunately, medical breakthroughs come with a high amount of fame. She handles my day to day and fields interviews.” He let a deep sigh out, suddenly looking tired. 

“Between you and me, I didn’t want this. At all.” He admitted, a hand pressed against his chest as he spoke. “But my father said I could take my position back, and at that point I needed to just go back on autopilot.” He sucked air through his teeth, eyes going a bit glossy as he got lost in thought. Sure, his head was on straighter thanks to Dr. Rogers and her brilliant psychotherapetuic intervention skills, but he was still bouncing from one extreme to another. And he hated it. He wanted to have a job and a life outside of it, but he just didn’t know how. 

His brows furrowed at the mention of colonial women. What? What did that- oh. “You mean the fellowship of the ring? A group of all men?” He gave her an incredulous look. “Lord of the Rings. A trilogy of so many characters and only, like, two of them are women?” He shook his head at her, as if deeply disappointed. “Now that I’m back in town, I’m going to make you watch them. In exchange I’ll give you plain yogurt and bones.” He gave her a sly smile, knowing it would be a tempting offer. “I’ll even go easy on you and not make you watch the extended editions.” At least, not right away. Though, he didn’t say that part out loud. 

He smiled at her, though it was a sad one. “I’m sorry I left without saying anything, or not reaching out to you afterwards. But my mind was in such a spiral I couldn’t even talk to my family without having a breakdown. So I did what I had to do to regulate myself again. I’m not like you, I have emotions that I feel far too deeply. And I was one soft breeze away from checking myself into a psychiatric hospital and not looking back.” He bit on his lower lip, eyes getting a faraway look again. He had left everyone behind without saying anything. It wasn’t just Regan. Shit, being back in town was more trouble than it was worth. The money was almost not worth it. 

Heading up a research team at a hospital was no small thing, especially for a non-physician. Regan could barely understand cybernetics (she could if she tried, she thought), but whatever Elias’s breakthrough was, it had clearly made enough waves to part the sea for him. And out of all the hospitals that were vying for him, he chose Wicked’s Rest… the very origin of his mental breakdown. Regan tensed her lip nervously between her teeth. Something was off. Not just Elias’s intended stay here, but Elias himself. In a certain light, when she studied him, it was as though something inside him had been strangled. He had achieved some hopes and dreams and traded others for them. Didn’t even want this. Fame was rarely so extravagant as people thought. He could spend his day doing photoshoots for medical journal covers but by the time night fell his thoughts would spiral as his head hit the pillow just like any other damn person. And then he would die.

But Regan said, “That’s wonderful.” And she tried to mean it. Mostly, she did. Elias deserved success. He needed to get out of that bar, the morgue was not where he belonged, and he had the wits to make something of his life. “You must be busy.” Too busy to be stalled by a crosswalk talking to his old boss who was leaving town anyway. “I had always wondered what compelled you to come here, to trade everything you had over there for…” She pointed vaguely in the direction of the bar. “But it sounds like you have achieved some mental clarity and reaped the benefits. Does that mean… you’re staying here, then.” I’m not. The confession burned her mouth as she refrained from speaking it. Part of her wished he had just been flitting in and out, a brief pivot back to Wicked’s Rest as he conquered conferences along the eastern seaboard. Given the finely-tailored clothes and the assistant, she had to wonder if his ego outswelled his brain, but he seemed like himself.

Especially where nerd paraphernalia was concerned. So maybe they weren’t colonial women. She didn’t care about this franchise of jewelry gods. But… Elias did. “Bás síoraí,” Regan mumbled; she already had a feeling she knew what that would mean for her. “You know I don’t do entertainment. I get nothing from it. There would be no purpose.” Except, of course, to engage in something Elias enjoyed because it would mean something to him, but was that really enou– oh, bones. And yogurt. She ran a hand through her hair, the Peascake Factory bag rustling at the movement. “Perhaps someday.” If she ever returned. But by then, she suspected, she would not even recognize Elias. He would be nothing but a formless, shapeless human, identical as the next. And she should be glad for it.

She swallowed at his apology. It was probably owed. Certainly the Medical Examiner’s Office deserved one as an entity. But if they were to have that conversation, the one Elias so badly wanted to have when the autopsy had gone banjanxed, his head would have popped off right then and there, she was sure of it now. So it was good he left. Good he found some peace. Good he was leaving all of his suspicions behind. Unless he’d said anything reckless to the fae at the bar when he was let go. Did he have a target on him? Did he – no, don’t think about that right now. Regan realized that, at some point, she’d paced semicircle around him. “So why come back here? It can’t just be the hospital. You could find work at a dozen others.”

In truth, Elias didn’t know if he was going to stay at all. Of course, he had to dedicate himself to this project. Whether or not he actually saw the full thing out instead of replacing himself with someone far more capable was a different question all together. “I… for a while, at least.” He answered, posture deflating a little at the idea. He liked Maine, well and truly he did. He had dealer’s choice of where he could have gone, of course, but he chose here. He had moved there months ago to prove a point that his life could change, and by God did it change. But now, he had something to prove to himself. What he was proving exactly, he didn’t know. That he wasn’t crazy, maybe? That there is something afoot that medication isn’t the answer to? It gnawed at the back of his mind, he knew the truth. He just refused to believe it. He knew that there was a great secret that Regan was hiding from him, and if his suspicions were correct, he didn’t know what he’d do with himself. But he’d have to test that theory in time. If he could at all, he didn’t know if he had the guts. 

“Something death,” he then translated automatically. Although it was embarrassing to admit, the Irish she spoke here and there was enough to make him try to learn the language. Duolingo, his beloved. Well, at least he translated the death part. He quirked a smile. He felt his phone buzz, probably Naya. Or his mother, who was always worrying about him. He ignored it. “I’ll hold you to it then.” He spoke with a smile, wiggling his brows as if playfully issuing her a challenge. “You may say you don’t do entertainment, but I know there’s a part of you deep down that wants to understand my references if nothing else.”

Then she asked the question he was hoping she wouldn’t. Of course, it was a perfectly valid question that Elias would have asked if he were in her shoes, so he wasn’t surprised by it. “Because…” his voice trailed off, expression turning to one of discomfort. He was embarrassed. “If I told you the truth, you wouldn’t like it.” He then said in a soft, almost weak voice. He let his gaze fall to his feet, realizing he didn’t have the guts to say it. No, he had to say it. Hell, he could get hit by a bus tomorrow and he’d never have admitted it. “Because I missed you.” He then said, daring himself to meet her gaze. “Because you’re a good person, whether you want to see it or not. Because, as much as you hate the word, you’re my friend.” He nodded his head once, as if telling off the anxious voice in his head that called him a coward. 

When Elias mentioned death – quickly, seemingly without thought – Regan looked as if she had been struck. Her reply was just as swift. “How did you…? An bhfuil Gaeilge ar eolas agat an t-am seo ar fad?” No, he couldn’t have known the language before. He probably picked some up at the bar. There were, Regan had learned, numerous Irish fae out there, and many of them stayed close to their roots. Still, she looked up, studying him as though he were new and unfamiliar; in a way, he kind of was. She held the tilt-headed look like he’d just spoken the language right back to her. The only person she’d encountered in town who spoke Irish was Siobhan. And Regan wasn’t exactly looking forward to conversing with that woman, regardless of what tongue was used. She knew what this meant. She had to learn about the screadaíl rings. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said quietly, too noncommittal, because, well… she did not want to tell him. There’s something you should know. Once more, her mouth burned with what remained unsaid.

Elias would have no such problem. He said whatever was on his mind when it was on his mind. There was something admirable about it, but right now, Regan wished she could pile the truth back into his mouth and stitch his lips shut. He was right. She didn’t like it.

I missed you. 

The words were heavy and thick and fell on top of her like a foul layer of plaque on a tooth or sheet of pollen on a clean window. Regan wanted to scrape them off her skin. Smooth out every sulcus in her brain if it eradicated the sentiment from her mind. She shrunk inside of her coat and this time, the Peascake Factory bag actually fell. Fortunately, it didn’t spill over. Elias couldn’t have meant that. Perhaps she was some small fraction of a reason he wanted to come back. Seeing her would be a consolation prize or a bonus, depending on how he otherwise felt about this place. Her eyes snapped away from his and she closed them; they stung a little, and when she opened them she could not meet his eyes again. The truth came banging up her throat once again. She couldn’t tell him. Gael had tried to intervene and ended up hurt. Elias would do the same, and be even more in over his head. He had only just barely managed to tear himself away from the fae. She could not involve him. Never. She would not. “I’m sorry to hear that.” The words were uncharacteristically small when she said them, her voice weak to her own ears. She hated it.

She could argue with him, that she was not a person, that she could not be missed, that they were certainly not friends, but there was no point to any of it now. All she could do was be sorry he thought and felt any of that. 

Regan sighed and scooped up the bag. It seemed okay. She looked down at it, then across the street where Elias’s assistant had brisked off to (he had an assistant). Back at the bag. “Look, I – one of the chefs over at The Peascake Factory died, and I was just there at the scene, and they still had the peascake he was making right before he died, so I bought it. It’s too big of a peascake for me to eat.” She shuffled between her feet. This was stupid. Elias clearly had other places to be, and Regan knew she should be ashamed of herself. This behavior – trying to eke a few more minutes out of someone before departing to Ireland – was disgustingly human. Tá an baile seo ag piocadh mo chnámha glan. Cliodhna would smell it on her. Regan wanted to pull her own hair out by the bulbs but, slowly, a rationalization settled in. If she gave herself and Elias closure, the guy might end up satisfied enough to not dare go looking for answers. It would allow her to better assess whether Elias had truly left that body on the autopsy table. She could ensure he would not chase after her when she left. Yes. That was the reason. “I have… a few minutes, if you want to engage in the necessary human behavior of food consumption.”

To say Elias was surprised by Regan’s offer to eat peascake (whatever in God’s name that was) with her was an understatement. Still, it was a welcomed one. Even if idea of eating a dead guy’s baked goods made him feel a little weird. He knew that for Regan, it was perfect. He fired off a text to Naya that simply read “Go ahead home, I’ll walk.” He tucked his phone away, nodding his head toward her. “A human behavior driven by a desire for closeness and companionship. Or when making a business deal.” Elias responded, eyeing over his totally not friend with an accusatory stare. 

He knew there was something she was hiding, it didn’t take much to figure that out. Still, he was the one that had left. He was the one that decided he couldn’t handle whatever was going on his life and fled like the feelings of those he had formed connections with hadn’t mattered. He was a coward. First he ran away from his old life, then he went running back. Now, he found that they were converging together. A twisted sort of fate that whatever power was out there had decided that they weren’t done with him yet. 

In truth, he has come to Wicked’s Rest because deep down, he needed to know the truth. As terrified as he was of it, he knew he would find the answer within the town. Sure, he now had more responsibility, but he knew he wasn’t crazy. He couldn’t be crazy. He felt a sudden urge to apologize, rising up in his throat, which he squelched down. “My apartment isn’t too far from here, if you want to eat there.” He offered, gesturing in the vague direction of the building. 

He fidgeted with his hands, a certain discomfort in being near Regan, as much as he had missed her. The knowledge that she held something back, something that clearly bothered her. Made her uncomfortable. Maybe it wasn’t that, and he made her uncomfortable. He felt uncomfortable being in the city himself, afraid to run into Regan, which he now had. He was afraid to run into Gael, too. 

He thought back to when he had told his brother all that had happened in the throes of his very real breakdown. “A right bastard you are,” his brother had said while laughing, then had clapped him on the back and walked away from him. That was right before he sought help. But his brother was right. “You can’t keep running away from everything, Eli. Whether you want it to or not, your past will come back to you.” He had said to him. As he thought of what his brother had said to him, his gaze unfocused. He was just an asshole and a coward, wasn’t he?

Regan bit back the rebuttal she wanted to make, the one stretching up her throat: I am not human, I do not have desires, and I have no use for closeness and companionship. At least one piece of that statement was not as true as she wished, and another would possibly have Elias end up in a psychiatric ward given his previous mental breakdown. So instead, Regan crossed her arms, her eyes ticking to the side. “I can come up with a business deal. We have some things to settle, actually. Some paperwork. Not that I have it with me. We could draw up a contract for the splitting of the peascake. I think this one is New York-style, by the way. Still warm. The decedent was too. It had just happened.” 

She shook her head at his well-meaning suggestion. “I won’t go to your apartment. That’s your space.” Though, if Regan were being honest, curiosity nagged at her. She imagined Elias would fill his space with more colonial women (no, the ring gods), Star Wars, and video games. Perhaps with a Silicon Valley flair now that he had undergone a transformation of some kind. “We’re, uh, not far from the Common. Let’s go there. It will afford us more space to unroll the peascake.” Regan shrugged her shoulder to the left, in the direction she was fairly sure they needed to walk. She could navigate the town well by now, but Elias being back made everything feel tilted on its axis. Like a dream, except, inexplicably, her ex-colleague was here instead of Bill Nye and instead of sexual intercourse she was going to have some of her questions answered, which was even better, really.  

She circled in front of him, studying him for a moment before continuing toward the park. “What is it? You look contemplative. No, that’s not quite it…” And it wasn’t the first time within the last few minutes she’d seen a similar expression on his face. Her emotional vocabulary may have been small, but she knew this one: lost. “Being back must be complicated for you. Change is a terrible thing. And sometimes one place infects you so deeply you no longer fit anywhere at all.” Her free hand flexed into a fist and she tightened it, fingernails pitting against her scars. “I do hope this was your choice.” 

Elias blinked at Regan. He wasn’t sure what kind of contract was needed for a piece of cake he wasn’t sure he wanted in the first place. “New York style… peascake.” The man stared at the ground, feeling Deja Vu washing over him. This wasn’t the first time that Regan had stricken him with the feeling of dread and deep confusion at the same time. “The fuck is peascake?” He finally asked, an incredulous expression taking form across his face. “I know cheesecake. And if it’s made out of peas, I’ll cry.” He pointed an accusatory finger at her. He was a hair’s breadth away from crying on a good day. Peascake, though? Forget it.

He blinked at Regan’s words, that same dread and horrified feeling bubbling to the surface. “Still warm.” He echoed, staring blankly at the sidewalk. “Do you know what the cause of death was?” Elias asked, wondering if the horrific baked good was the man’s last act among the land of the living. What a horrific thought. Or absolutely wonderful one if you were Regan, he thought. He sighed, knowing it was an excuse to reconnect with someone in this city instead of isolating himself. Working was all he knew, sometimes. He had to break that habit. 

He nodded his head as she suggested the commons. He was glad she had rejected the offer. His apartment completely lacked personality. Naya had arranged for a company to move furniture before getting there, and he hadn’t bothered to put up any of the things he owned. Instead of it being a reflection of who he was, it felt wrong, just like everything felt to him lately.

Frowning, 

Elias stared at the ground again at Regan’s questions. “I…” he trailed off, unsure how to word it. “It’s complicated. I didn’t want to come back.” He confessed, knowing she deserved to know why he returned. “Naya’s from Wicked’s Rest.” He explained, unable to look up at Regan. “She saw the offer first and got excited about having an excuse to move back to her hometown.” In truth, Elias had been getting offers from all over the country. Some places were even out of the country. “I almost went to Germany,” he then said, rubbing at his arm. “But the whole not speaking German part really held me back.” He shrugged his shoulders. “She just got so excited to move here, and I just… couldn’t say no to her.” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “So no, it wasn’t my choice.”

“You don’t know what a peascake is?” She tilted her head, giving him a narrow look. Sometimes Elias asked the strangest questions. Perhaps they didn’t have peascakes on the west coast. “There are no peas in peascakes. Do not be absurd.” Regan corrected him, but did not elaborate. She still suspected he was being deliberately obtuse. “And do not cry. I don’t want to see that. You’re so full of tears and feelings, one could pop you with a needle and you would burst like a salt-filled water balloon.” She was better. And he knew it. She didn’t need to remind him. “Nothing to do with the peascake, if that’s what you’re wondering. Judging by the accounts of the other chefs, it sounded like he slipped on the floor and fell backwards. Obviously, he has not received an autopsy yet, but his injuries are consistent with that. I cannot rule out that someone didn’t trip him, though.” Yet. when she had him on her table, had privacy, then she would see.

As the Common came into view, Regan found herself clutching the bag more tightly. Part of this felt like a mistake. Elias had managed to disentangle himself from the town but now it was reeling him back, and she had been part of what he needed to escape. Was it right for her to receive him like this? He was familiar, disturbingly so, almost inoffensive to be near, which she could not say for most people. A reminder of what she would be leaving behind and that it wasn’t as easy as she wanted to think. He could not do it. Cliodhna’s harsh voice filled her ears. Is leanbh trua, sentimental thú. 

“It’s hard to be in a country and not speak the language.” Regan’s eyes sank down to the cracked sidewalk for a moment. She tried not to remember those days, where the others refused to even speak a word of English to her, forcing her to adapt. As Irish became a natural tongue for her, Cliodhna became more willing to mix in some English. By then, it sounded practically foreign to Regan. “Immersion can solve that problem, however. It is how I learned. If you’re willful enough, you will learn it and learn it well; if not, you will perish.” She paused, realizing she was being a bit extreme, even for her, and shrugged. “Or move, I suppose. Is cuma leis na cuileoga cá dtiteann an corp.” She gave him a frown laced with understanding she didn’t want to begin to dissect for herself. “I’m sorry it was not your choice. That wasn’t what I was hoping to hear. It was kind of you to do that for your assistant, but we cannot live for others.” She wondered, for a moment, whether she was referring to her grandmother who she was prepared to dedicate centuries of her life to satisfying, or the wishes of her brother that brought her here to begin with. Where did she want to be?

Want. The word raked harshly across her skin. Right now, she was content here. But Siobhan would claw for her. Or if not for her, for anything that obstructed her. And, eventually, Regan knew, her own failures would pile up enough that even if she evaded Siobhan, she would need her. Regan tried hard to push it all back once more. She still did not want to tell him. “So… when did you get back?” She looked between him and one of the benches. Then shook her head at it. Not that one. The one further to the right felt better. And as she approached, she gave an approving nod toward a decomposing mole by one of the bench’s legs. A good omen, some would say. “And what is your plan? I mean, are you… you’re really just back? That’s it?”

Elias stared at the bag that Regan held in her hand, deciding it was a better place to look than at someone he once considered a friend before his world went to shit. “Right.” That was all he said in response to him being too emotional. Something about the remarks left him feeling angry, annoyed even. “Well, if that’s all you have to say?” He spoke, raising his brows as if to tell her to shut up with his eyes.

These emotions flitted through Elias's mind, from dreading seeing her to being happy to see her to wishing he had never seen her. It was bad enough, Gael, but now her? He really wasn’t getting lucky this week. “Couldn’t have been a death by chocolate cake? Now, that would have been a coincidence.” Elias waggled his brows, deciding to bury down the foul mood to worry about later. Or never, never sounded even better, honestly. Regan was talking to him, but the words turned into static, and all he could think about was the woman's body with horns and deer legs and… 

Elias reached into his pocket, pulled out his prescription, and took a dose. He said nothing about it and hoped that Regan wouldn’t either. He took a deep breath and willed those thoughts away, too. “It wasn’t my choice, but I’m a slave to my work.” Elias shrugged his shoulders as if that was all there was to say on the matter. And honestly, it was. Work kept his mind occupied. He couldn’t think about faeries if he didn’t have the time. It was too much if he had to manage a team and work on his project, field questions from curious scientists, and manage a now-growing social media following. His ears were ringing again, incessant and loud. He shook his head as he neared a bench in the commons, and Elias plopped down on it, clutching his head to regulate himself. 

After taking deep breaths, the ringing slowly subsided, leaving him with the noise of a busy downtown area. “If it were up to me, I’d move to another country and write a comic or something.” Elias shook his head, leaning back in his seat with a deep, defeated sigh. “I’m not… I’m not better. Not yet.” He admitted, biting at his lower lip. He couldn’t look up at Regan. It was embarrassing to admit that he wasn’t okay. 

“I’m here to do my job, nothing else.” He then said, his tone clipped. It surprised even him. “I did it for Naya. And now I can-” he stopped, brows furrowing. And now he could what? Undo all the progress he had made in turning his life around? As terrified as he was, he needed answers. “Why iron?” He then asked, finally looking up at her with a steely gaze. “Why were you so keen on protecting me from something?” He shook his head, running his tongue along his teeth as he thought about the possibilities. “I’m not strong enough to know the truth,” he muttered. “I saw it and ran from it, quite literally.” He stuffed the prescription bottle back into his pocket. “Work, maybe research other things, keep to myself.” He shrugged. “Might as well do something now that I’m stuck here for a while.”

Something changed in Elias. His eyes grew frantic, his body stiffening. He looked like a man being chased by bears (or fae). Regan gave him a sideways look, but the moment passed quickly as he clung to an orange prescription bottle, opening it with a shaky but practiced hand. She raised a brow. It would be something fast-acting, probably for anxiety. A benzodiazepine, most likely. She didn’t approve, but would refrain from commenting. She wondered if it had been her words that stirred him into this frenzy or his own terror nipping at his heels. How often did he think of that day in the autopsy suite? What he saw at the bar? The conversation they never got to have?

Regan took a delicate seat on the bench, leaving ample room for Elias to sit near her but not too close. The coat made her look bigger than she was and she appreciated it as a barrier, in moments like this. “I was also here only to do my job.” And yet. Something kept her here, kept her from fully resigning herself back to Saol Eile, and it was not her job. Not just her job, anyway. “You could still write your comic. You told me about the “fan fiction”. Could that be a prosperous career? Not that you’re looking for an alternative… you just landed in this one.” But he wasn’t happy. And that bothered her. It was stupid. She would not even recognize happiness in herself, anymore; was not capable of it. But others deserved what she had forfeited, did they not? Their lives were so short and simple. Best to fill them with joy.

Regan set the peascake bag down and gave Elias her full attention. He was on the verge of saying something, and it had the sound of something important. But there was only a stark pause as words seemed to pile up in his throat.

Iron.

He was asking about iron? Regan concealed her surprise as best she could and shook her head. “You know you don’t want to know, so do not ask me.” She raked through her hair with a sigh. She was normally better at hiding signs of being tense, but she hadn’t expected to ever be speaking about this with Elias again. He was in no state for it, either. The sound of rattling pills still held her thoughts. Perhaps someday. But by then, Regan was sure she’d be gone. “If you change your mind, bring me that ring I gave you. But until then… you are only here to do your job, are you not?” 

Snorting out a laugh at the idea of fanfiction, Elias shook his head. “No, definitely not.” Anxiety forgotten for a moment, he couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of him holed away in his apartment writing God knows what. “No, I’m definitely not one to read or write fanfiction.” He explained, waving his hands in front of him. “I’m good at what I do,” he explained as she sat beside her, leaving plenty of room between them. “Combining robotics and medical prostheses. It’s practical.” He shrugged a shoulder. It was clear he was only half-heartedly into his career. 

Elias wiped a hand over his face, letting out a sigh. She was right. He didn’t want to know. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready. Still, the nagging to prove himself right was strong. Of course, he wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t crazy, that these meds weren’t doing anything but giving him a false sense of security that it would keep the things that went bump in the night at bay. He knew what he had seen; it was so real, and people around him, like Regan, seemed to know more than they let on. 

“You’re right.” He spoke, deflated and tired. Elias thought of the ring she had given him; he had kept it in his pocket after he left until his psychiatrist had convinced him that he was holding onto something that gave him delusions. He had since discarded it in a drawer somewhere in California. When he packed up to move, it had been a last-minute decision to take it in a box and bring it with him. 

“Only a job.” He echoed, though his voice sounded hollow and worn down. “Yes, you’re right.” He said as he let out an exhale. “Prosthetics and exoskeletons for people with nerve damage.” He crossed a leg over the other, shaking his head.

“I’m nearly always right, remember?” But Elias’s agreement seemed… dazed, resigned, and Regan could tell it was not truthful; the real question was whether he could identify it as such. She eyed the distance between them, the open expanse on the bench, and though initially she thought it was there for her benefit, now she wondered if it wasn’t for his, too. “You don’t seem…” He was here only reluctantly, guarding his sanity against the town’s constant onslaught of the unknown, and no matter how distant he tried to keep himself, she could tell he was destined for failure. It did not take precognition for her to feel that in her bones. She chose to stay silent on the matter, cutting herself off.

And, once more, Regan wanted both to protect him and protect the knowledge she unfortunately possessed. Elias would not go digging for answers this time. But they would find him anyway, they always did, and they might just break him for good. On the day that happened, Regan would be gone, overseas. All she could offer him now was some small, current kindness. Something squirmed in her chest at the thought, but when she decided it was a mercy, not compassion, the sensation stopped. “Come on, help me unroll the peascake. I have a lighter and some straws for it.”

#threads; #kadavernagh #t;kadavernagh #A Reunion Over Peascake

[cardworksartblog]

Hi. Here are some weird slugcat (or weirdcats lol) adopts i made, im gonna be posting them to deviantart soon. Theyre priced at 1200 DA points/1500 flight rising gems and the treasure equivalent. If you want first picks on em before i post them to DA dm me lol

Also i have little lore snippets for these guys btw. They were made by the same iterator who made feather and frog, and as such they live either with Silent Catalogue/Sunny in her can or in the territory outside of it. I'll be making a post abt her once i. Actually design her lol

Armoured Digger -

With its hard as stone backplates and claws specialised for digging through the tough dirt of its territory, this slugcat is quite the hardy variant made by Sunny. It lives a fair stretch away from the tropical areas where most of the released weirdcats live, at the edge of the iterator's reach. Its territory borders a gigantic stretch of unlivable desert, and it has learnt how to cultivate many tubers to make up for the lack of prey available.

Gem Keeper -

This rather vain weirdcat is the scourge of the local scavenger tribe that Sunny watches over, living in a cave near the tropical coast that is slippery, dark and smells of brine. It has a rather curious obsession with keeping a manner of shiny objects, unfortunately picking pearls as one of their favourites. The strange protrusions on this slugcat can glow, often in mesmerising patterns, but if threatened can flash blindingly bright. It will sneak out at night and blind scavengers who threaten it if caught stealing pearls.

Seagrass Mimic -

This odd rivulet-deriven morph is quite the apex predator of the reefs, lying low in kelp beds and waiting either for stray sealife to swim over it, or for a terrestrial being to swim above it and send sounds down to jt. It will swim up towards the surface silently, before latching onto its prey and injecting a small amount of a paralytic toxin it got from eating many types of deadly sealife to aid in dragging its prey down and drown it before feasting. Due to the toxin secreting from its skin when threatened its both poisonous and venomous.

Thermal Lurker -

This weirdcat lives in the sulfuric volcanic vents around Sunny's can, being rather calm and unbothered by most creatures due to the blistering temperatures its skin produces. The outer layer of its skin is nearly always hot enough to melt metal, but strangely its underbelly is pleasantly warm. This volcanic friend is on peaceful terms with the local scavengers, being quite happy to fetch them sulfur from its den for their explosives in return for food and companionship. It also aids them with refining their spears to be much more powerful via helping them melt down seaglass to make a primitive sort of glass spearhead.

Cocoa Confectionaries -

One of the many of Sunny's experimental slugcat morphs who exclusively lives within her can in the containment enclosure, this weirdcat is not too different from the normal slugcats, physically. It lacks the short, smooth fur needed for them to slide though pipes however, and gets stuck trying to go through them due to their thick, wool-like fur. Its rather well mannered and is a loving companion towards Sunny.

Cookies N Cream -

A morph that is derived from a slugcat adapted to snowy enviroments, this weirdcat has surprisingly silky fur and is quite capable of sliding through pipes. Although, due to the threat of overheating in the tropical enviroment that surrounds Sunny's can, it is kept inside of an enclosure that mimics a snowy area akin to a pine forest with an array of other snow-based weirdcats. It enjoys hunting prey with a group of its landmates, and has been observed setting up traps and helping come up with hunting strategies that make use of their enviroment.

Snow Runner -

A frosted weirdcat whom has a unique coat that allows it to blend into powder s ow near-perfectly. This odd slugcat is rather shy, and surprisingly fast and good at running across snow due to being much lighter and smaller than an average slugcat. It will hide in drifts of snow, waiting for prey to come close enough for them to strike, before pouncing lightning fast and wrestling their prey. If their meal escapes, they will give chase and aim to exhaust it via travelling close behind and keeping pace for an extended period of time thanks to their extreme speed and stamina.

Peach Fuzz -

This weirdcat roams near the Armoured Digger's territory, and has collected a small pack of yellow lizards who follow its lead under every circumstance. It took a different approach to the Digger's way of survival, and instead opted to hunt the gigantic vultures who circle around the arid borders, via baiting them to come down via breeding vulture grubs, and then ambushing them with its pack of lizards. It quickly goes for their masks, ripping it off and clawing the vultures eyes out and letting it clumsily fly off, keeping track of it so when it lands to rest or succumbs to its wounds, Peach Fuzz and the yellow lizards can swoop in and take finish off their meal.

#slugcat #slugcats #rainworld #rain world #adoptables #Weirdcats #Silent Catalogue's Weirdcats

[rito-flips]

My contribution to an inside joke in the balisong community

We start with this Youtube channel, Blade Bias:

It's a flipping vlog and podcast spearheaded by Ethan a.k.a. CamaroEE, who's joined by Brandon Baker for podcast episodes.

Under this video, I decided I was gonna humor myself by commenting the channel name but misspelled:

This will become a major plot point.

I started doing this on every vid that released on Blade Bias from that point onward. Fast forward to early February of this year, and Ethan starts one of his usual main channel streams to talk with people in the balisong community. Around the same day, he added a feedback channel in his Discord server to see what people say he could work on or even implement in future Blade Bias videos. Someone jokingly asked for a picture of him, to which he responded with this:

This was the start.

During the stream, the chat managed to get him to change the channel banner to this picture, but stretched out and only showing his face:

This lead to a slippery slope of people in his Discord server piling on and on with edits of the image, including these:

Notice the "i love bald bias" in the first image? In comes Ty/Telestro, the former cohost of Blade Bias, with this image:

An edit of Ethan where he's bald, using the same dumb thing I'd been commenting on every Blade Bias video in the months between the first comment and the stream.

People piled on with even more edits of the image, each more unhinged than the last. People also started making the image their desktop background:

Then Ty added salt to this wound by making it an emote in the Discord:

It took the mods threatening to remove the emote to stop people from spamming the emote in the server, by the way. And remember how I mentioned Ethan starting a stream? When all of this went down, it was while the stream was up, so fans of Ethan's content could watch his real time reaction as everything unfolded. Fans could also watch the edits people were making of the image slowly drain Ethan's sanity, like when Disuko (shoutout to him, his content is fucking incredible) put the image on his RedBubble merch shop, which lead to this reaction:

As of the time of writing whatever this is, there lies a channel in Ethan's discord server titled "balde bias"—the channel itself is locked, and the only thing in the channel is the balde bias image:

It was honestly really cool watching a stupid thing I did to make myself laugh blossom into the chaos that is this inside joke. I don't know how else to end this stream, so I'm just gonna leave you guys with one last thing:

balde bias.

#balisong #knife #butterfly knife #balisong flipping #hobby #skill hobby #butterfly knives #skill toy

[tulin006]

Unravelling the Mandela Effect Controversy

In a world teeming with conspiracy theories, the Mandela Effect stands as a towering monument to collective false memories and an emblem of historical revisionism. Named after the iconic South African revolutionary, Nelson Mandela, this bizarre phenomenon churns troubling waters — waters that whisper tales of Mandela’s alleged death in the 1980s, vehemently clashing with the historical records that celebrate his release from prison in 1990 and subsequent presidency.

From those roiling depths emerges an assertion so audacious it teeters on the precipice of disbelief: that the Mandela who ascended to power post-imprisonment was not the genuine article, but an impostor. Some proclaim it to be a clone, an artifice of political puppetry, while a more storied narrative insists upon a man named Gibson Makanda assuming Mandela's mantle. This line of conjecture paints a picture of deceit woven into South Africa's tapestry of freedom and echoes the shunned cries of Winnie Mandela, the revolutionary's wife, who some suggest knew all too well the man paraded before the masses was not her husband.

These tangled threads of conspiracy entice the curious and the skeptical alike, compelling us to question the very fabric of our perceived reality. But is there any merit to these claims, or are they merely the product of a society entrenched in cynicism?

The Death That Wasn't

The argument hinges on a straightforward premise: Nelson Mandela, the spearhead of anti-apartheid, met his demise within the cold, unyielding walls of prison during the 1980s. This claim starkly contrasts the well-documented account of Mandela's life — surviving 27 years of incarceration, only to emerge as a symbol of resilience, an advocate for peace, and ultimately, the President of South Africa.

Nonetheless, there persists a swath of individuals who vividly recall news coverage of Mandela's funeral during that decade, an event stirring enough to etch itself forever into their memories. How does one rationalize such a powerful collective recollection with recorded history?

From Human to Clone

Leaping from the foothold of disputed death, believers in the clone theory assert that political forces meticulously fabricated a Mandela clone to maintain the charade of leadership and seamless transition while safeguarding their interests.

What purpose would such an elaborate hoax serve? For these theorists, it's a matter of control. A living Mandela embodied the struggle against systemic inequality, wielding influence powerful enough to uplift a nation or send it toppling into chaos. A clone, they argue, could be manipulated, a figurehead dancing on governmental strings.

Gibson Makanda: The Replacement Theory

While cloning suggests science fiction leaping into the political arena, another claim rooted in doppelgänger deceit declares a living man, Gibson Makanda, as the surrogate Mandela. This shadowy figure is said to have been coached extensively to replicate Mandela's mannerisms, speech, and essence, fashioning himself as the long-imprisoned revolutionary emerging into the light of freedom, ready to heal a divided country.

Winnie Mandela's supposed ostracization serves as purported evidence of this switcheroo—a once-revered figure gradually silenced, marginalized, and dismissed. Could it be that her steadfast spirit and intimate knowledge of her husband made her a threat to a fabricated narrative?

The Power of Perceived Reality

Entertaining such theories requires a suspension of disbelief and a willingness to peer beyond the veneer of recorded history. These notions call into question the veracity of our collective memory, the potentialities of technology and political intrigue, and the slippery slopes of revisionist histories.

Are these claims mere flights of fancy, or could they contain threads of unsettling truth? The Mandela Effect extends beyond the man and into the realm of societal self-reflection. It dares us to gaze into the murky waters of consensus and challenge the certainty that what we “know” aligns with reality.

Stirring the Pot of Thought

The appeal of such conspiratorial narrations lies not just in their sensationalism but in their ability to provoke reflection and discourse. They compel us to scrutinize our systems of belief, our relationship with the past, and the reliability of truth as it is presented.

The "alternative Mandela" narrative may ultimately be unveiled as fiction, a complex tapestry of rumours and ideations. Yet, its very existence underscores an inherent scepticism, a residue of mistrust in the institutions that shape our view of history. It begs the audience to ponder not just the likelihood of such claims, but their implications—on the politics of identity, legacy, and remembrance.

In the court of public opinion and human memory, the truth is often not the victor but the most compelling story. Are we willing to accept that our cherished narratives might be premised upon foundations as unstable and enigmatic as the Mandela Effect suggests? Or do we choose to stand by the history that has been carved into granite by textbooks and ceremonies?

These are the questions that remain inscribed upon the walls of our collective consciousness as we grapple with the shadow of uncertainty that the Mandela Effect casts over one of history's brightest leaders. And while we may never unearth the ultimate truth, the power of the story — true or not — endures.

#Mandela died in 1980s #Cloning leaders #Illuminati #illuminati confirmed #conspiracy theories

[safetyroof]

Elevating Safety Standards: Unveiling the Impact of Safety-Proof Ladder Attachments

Introduction: In the ever-evolving landscape of workplace safety, the paramount concern is the welfare of individuals navigating diverse work environments. Whether amid bustling construction sites, active warehouses, or engaged in meticulous home improvement projects, the reliance on robust safety equipment is unquestionable. Spearheading the charge in elevating safety standards is the innovative Safety-Proof Ladder Attachment. Positioned as a proactive guardian, this attachment not only prevents accidents but also nurtures a secure working environment.

The Significance of Safety-Proof Ladder Attachments: Crafted with precision, Safety-Proof Ladder Attachments introduce an additional layer of protection for individuals working at elevated heights. Meticulously designed, these attachments fortify ladder stability, significantly reducing the risks of accidents and injuries. From advanced anti-slip features to reinforced support structures, they provide a comprehensive solution to common ladder-related hazards.

Key Features of Safety-Proof Ladder Attachments: Anti-Slip Technology: Experience peace of mind with Safety-Proof Ladder Attachments featuring cutting-edge anti-slip technology. This ensures a secure grip on various surfaces, a critical attribute when navigating uneven or slippery terrains, guaranteeing ladder stability during use.

Sturdy Construction: Engineered to withstand substantial loads and adverse conditions, the construction of Safety-Proof Ladder Attachments showcases top-tier materials and robust engineering. This guarantees the longevity of these attachments, delivering sustained safety benefits.

Easy Installation: Simplify safety implementations with Safety-Proof Ladder Attachments designed for effortless installation. Users can swiftly and securely attach these user-friendly additions to their ladders, facilitating efficient safety measures across various work scenarios.

Embedding Safety in Every Step: Beyond regulatory compliance, integrating Safety-Proof Ladder Attachments is about instilling a safety-centric culture in every work process. The investment in these attachments underscores an organizational commitment to the well-being of the workforce, embodying a proactive stance toward safety.

Conclusion: Safety is a shared responsibility, and the incorporation of Safety-Proof Ladder Attachments represents a proactive leap towards establishing a secure work environment. These attachments function as pivotal components within a comprehensive safety strategy, instilling confidence in individuals working at heights while concurrently minimizing risks. Prioritizing safety through the integration of reliable attachments serves as an investment in the collective well-being of the workforce and the overall triumph of any project.

[ledenews]

Dr. Robert Kruse Honored as First McMillen Endowed Chair

West Liberty University and the West Liberty University Foundation announced today the appointment of Dr. Robert Kruse II as the first recipient of the Kenneth B. McMillen Endowed Chair. "I am grateful for this opportunity to honor Professor McMillen’s legacy by focusing more on my research in cultural geography. Thank you to all involved in creating this opportunity, especially the WLU Foundation, the McMillen family and the College of Liberal and Creative Arts for recognizing me in this manner," said Kruse, who is a professor of geography. The McMillen Endowed Chair is the first chair to be endowed at WLU and represents the highest faculty recognition established at this time. Kruse, who joined the WLU faculty in 2005, is a professor in the Department of Humanities and Social Sciences. The time and resources afforded by the McMillen Chair will enable Kruse to pursue two projects in cultural geography – his primary area of interest. The first project will address the unique ways in which postcolonial spaces are represented in the musical Pacific Overtures (1976). The second project, focused on the town of Point Pleasant, W.Va., will be a continuation of Dr. Kruse’s previous exploration of the unique intersections of history (the collapse of the Silver Bridge) and the paranormal (the lore surrounding sightings of the “Mothman”). Kruse earned both his doctoral and master’s degree in geography at Kent State University and his bachelor’s in geography at Slippery Rock University of Pennsylvania. “We are so honored, in the College of Liberal and Creative Arts, to be the home of the McMillen Chair. As its first recipient, Dr. Kruse carries forward a West Liberty legacy of engaging, relevant courses, lively teaching and thoughtful research. That this legacy will always be linked with Professor McMillen through the affection of his students and the love of his family makes it even more meaningful,” said Dr. Cecelia Konchar Farr, dean of the College of Liberal and Creative Arts. The McMillen Endowed Chair is named for Kenneth B. McMillen who was an associate professor of Political Science at WLU from 1946-1980. Upon McMillen’s death in 1985, his wife, Muriel, started a fund in memory of her husband through the West Liberty University Foundation. In 2019, WesBanco made a significant gift of $100,000 which enabled the permanent endowment of the fund and the creation of the McMillen Endowed Chair to support the research and programming of a tenured professor in a liberal arts discipline. The growth of the McMillen fund has been bolstered by donations from private individuals, including alumni who fondly recall Professor McMillen. Alumnus and donor John W. Hoppers ’63 of Columbus has spearheaded the effort to continue the growth of the endowment by engaging McMillen’s former students. Hoppers recalls Professor McMillen’s impact. “Current events always had a way of slipping into our class discussions, but that era provided us with plenty of interesting events to discuss. McMillen had a way of imparting knowledge in a painless manner. His tests were comprehensive but fair — if you attended class and read the assignments.” Alumni and friends who remember McMillen’s legacy are encouraged to contribute to the McMillen Fund and strengthen its support for faculty in the College of Liberal and Creative Arts. For more information on donating to the McMillen fund, please contact the WLU Foundation at 304.336.5635. Read the full article

[thatndginger]

📖OC Name Meaning📖

So a while back two months ago @sunset-a-story tagged me in this game and I am finally getting around to it~

rules: take your main characters (or whoever your favorites are) and vote whether they fit the meaning of their name or not

(since I am so late to the game I'm gonna leave this as an open tag in case anyone didn't get a chance before!)

Shapeshifter [randomized]

Kerr McKay - “thicket/marsh” or “spear” depending on etymology and Anglicization leanings - He is the spearhead of the group, the first into action and danger.

Jay (Jessamine) de Lange - “jasmine flower” - Does not fit her AT ALL. She doesn't fit with any of the traditional symbolism of the jasmine flower, tbh.

Warrick Salehrad - occupational name for someone who builds scaffolds - Nope.

Carlisle Morrish - derived from the city of Carlisle in Cumbria, England - 'Carlisle' is derived from 'caer' and 'Luguwaljon' [city of Lugus]. Caer means fortress or stronghold, and Lugus was associated with warriors, craftsmen, and being skilled in many things. It fits him.

Gabriel Beckham - “God is my strength”, a messenger archangel - I think it fits him. I can't tell you how yet, but it fits him.

Luka Kovac - Serbian version of Luke, St. Luke the Evangelist: patron saint of physicians, surgeons, and butchers - if we pay close attention to the 'patron saint of butchers' and epithets like 'the butcher of [place]' then you can gather something important about our boy here.

Caesar Montrose - from the Roman Emperor Julius Caesar, title for roman and byzantine emperors - yes. He is not quite the conquerer and skilled politician as his namesake suggests, but what he lacks in charisma he makes up for in ruthlessness and business savvy.

Lucas Montrose - “to shine” - also yes. He shines like the sun; burning those who dare get to close, full of fire and passion and rage.

Adrien Montrose - derivative of a place name in Italy, possibly meaning “sea” or “water” | St. Adrian of Nicomedia: patron saint of arms dealers, guards, and soldiers - he's part of a powerful crime syndicate and cares for his 'soldiers'. I think a St. Adrian connection is fitting.

Calypso de la Fuente - “she that conceals” or “beautiful sight” - absolutely fits. She's mysterious and slippery and jaw-droppingly gorgeous.

Enora Nolan - “honor” - if her name is being used Ironically, then yes. She has no honor.

Rónan Walsh - “little seal” - They're a selkie. Literally a little seal. It's not their true name, or one they chose, but it works for what it is.

Neve McKay - “bright”, mythical daughter of an Irish sea god - she has a very bright personality, and she lives in a sea-side town off the western coast of Ireland. Very fitting.

#tag games #WIP: Shapeshifter

[play-my-game]

#Plug #Wet #Slippery Spearhead #At home toy

[f1]

WATCH: Ricciardo looks back on his sensational Monza victory in Through the Visor

Daniel Ricciardo returned McLaren to winning ways last season with a shock victory at the Italian Grand Prix – a result so significant that team boss Zak Brown would later get a map of the Monza circuit tattooed on his arm for eternity. Amid drama from start to finish in Italy, spearheaded by a collision between title rivals Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton, Ricciardo made the most of a slippery McLaren and punchy Mercedes power unit to give the Woking-based outfit their first win since 2012. READ MORE: Horner, Perez and Vettel back Ricciardo to ‘find his mojo again’ after McLaren separation Indeed, despite Mercedes and Red Bull dominating up front in 2021 as they went head-to-head for championship glory, Ricciardo’s win at Monza – backed up by team mate Lando Norris – marked the only 1-2 finish of the campaign. It aould also be Ricciardo’s strongest result in papaya orange – the Australian will lose his seat to 2021 Formula 2 champion and fellow countryman Oscar Piastri at the end of 2022, having agreed to part ways with McLaren a year earlier than planned. Hit the play button on the video above to hear Ricciardo’s memories of a very emotional day for himself and McLaren in the latest instalment of our Through the Visor series. via Formula 1 News https://www.formula1.com

#F1 #WATCH: Ricciardo looks back on his sensational Monza victory in Through the Visor #Formula 1

[depresseddepot]

.

#trying my hardest to not have a breakdown at 2:42 am after three hours of trying my hardest to distract myself :o) #i have a meeting on monday to work out the details about this adult programming craft kit think im supposed to be spearheading but #ive already refused twice to make videos outside of work (i dont have time) and im worried this is just another ploy to get me to make them #ive tried so hard the past few months to space out my homework and be easier on myself so i had time to decompress and relax #and im worried agreeing to it will fuck everything up #i don't have enough time during work to do all the shit needed for a program like i work the fucking DESK #i dont have a place to store things or my own computer or any connections like??why are they so desperate to have ME do this #but i also can't really say no because ive been here for almost 3 years now and it is time i have my own project #but im the throwaway desk lady which means i literally have every project nobody else wants to do #i double check the account cards and i double check the item catalog cards AND i FILE the catalog cards #and the lady that did cards before me didn't do them for like 4 months so ive still got a lot to catch up on #and now i have to weasel buying materials and making fliers and making instructions for a craft kit every month? #im so tired but i have to walk myself through whatever im so fucking worried about or ill never get to sleep #i think i just have to tell them that we shouldn't advertise it as something monthly because i can't guarantee I'll always have time for it #see this is such a fucking slippery slope though because if i agree to do this (tho they arent really giving me a choice) #I'll essentially BECOME the adult services librarian #we only have a youth librarian right now and we've been looking for an adult one who 'has experience in archiving' #and im majoring in history and my boss said it himself that he would hire ME if i had the credentials #but he's going to be at the meeting too so like??? #i agree to do this and then three months from now they want me to arrange author visits or an in-house movie night #and none of this would be that bad IF THEY WOULD JUST GIVE ME A FUCKING DESK #they're saving the empty desk for the eventual adult librarian but where am i supposed to put my fucking stuff? by the printers? #all i have is desk time meaning i am at the front desk every second in at work. i cant plan a craft kit while also doing all my other shit #AND HELPING PATRONS #front desk also answers the phone so like??? it rings every ten seconds these days what the hell do you expect from me #'u can come in like an hour early or stay an hour late if u need to :o)' and do what. daydream about the craft kits? #my only computer is the front desk computer what the hell do u mean come in early #the way shit is done around here is so inefficient im so fucking tired #also two other people are leaving in the coming year which means ill have to also do book repair AND mel???? im fucking 19 #im not some seasoned pro at interlibrary communication i work the fucking circulation desk

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Evan’s 6✩ Inspiration: Umbrae Secrets [繁荫秘语] Date Translation (END 7 + 8: Heart-throb)

"It feels pretty good to have your wish granted by someone else.”

*Light and Night Master-list | Evan’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *This 6✩ Inspiration has 8 Endings!! *Reblogs and likes appreciated! *Evan’s tag will be #For Night, For Revolution *Will be taking a short break for one or two days for mental health reasons, so no TLs will be uploaded while I’m gone

✥ Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ✩Light & Night★

After pondering for a while, I finally decided to…

✩ E7 LIGHT: Rest here ✩

MC: The view's pretty nice. How about we rest here for a while?

Evan: Sure. Let's sit here then.

I followed Evan and seated myself atop a rock by the river and gave a good big stretch, easing the tension out of my slightly sore hips and legs.

The vegetation around us was a little sparser now, and the golden sunlight fell upon us in mottled spots. The river had crystal clear water. The sunlight pierced through the waves, leaving shimmering gold patterns that wavered along with the current of the river.

There were occasional grey shadows that darted through the water. I excitedly patted Evan's arm to catch his attention the moment I saw it.

MC: Look! There are fish in the river!

Evan: There's quite a bit of them. Those look like striped bass.

MC: They're so big…

Staring at the plump and juicy-looking fishes, I suddenly became acutely aware of the snarling abyss that was my stomach as it slowly woke back up.

I never expected to get hungry just from that short trek.

Those fishes would be delicious steamed! Add soy sauce, a little wine to taste, and the meat will become tender and succulent, absolutely flavorful...

But it would also be equally good braised! Deep fry it first, then add soybean sauce, Sichuan pepper and star anise to spice it up. Then add water to let the sauce soak in, producing a flavourful, mouthwatering, aroma!

I couldn't help but swallow in anticipation. I guiltily cast a glance at Evan, hoping that he didn't notice my guilty inward musings of a glutton.

Evan: Don't tell me you're thinking whether this fish would be better braised or steamed?

MC: ??? ...Remove the camera you installed in my brain!

Evan: Why would I need a camera? It's written all over your face.

Evan: It'll be a little hard to steam or braise anything here, but we can try grilling the fish if we have a stove to work with.

Hearing the words "grilled" and "fish", I instantly felt rejuvenated. Gone were my sore hips and aching legs.

I jumped up from the rock I'd been sitting on with a start.

MC: Grilled fish sounds good! I've got the stove! And grills! And seasonings!

Evan: Brilliant.

MC: Then there's only one thing missing… How are we going to catch the fish?

Evan surveyed the area and pondered for a while before speaking.

Evan: There are traces of grilling being done on the ground. Someone must have grilled fish here before.

Evan: We can look around and see if there is any equipment left behind that we can make use of.

MC: Okay!

Evan and I each took one side of the river as we scoured the bank for any items that may be of use.

Soon after, I moved a patch of tall grass aside and lifted something in triumphant joy.

MC: Evan! Look at what I found! A harpoon!

Hearing me call out to him, Evan headed over. He took the rusty harpoon from me and gave it a once over.

Evan: Sharpen it on the rocks and it should be good to go.

MC: Great!

Evan took the harpoon to the rocks and gave it a thorough sanding to get all the rust off. Soon, the once-rusty harpoon regained its sharp, deadly, metallic glint. It looked as primed as ever.

After he was done polishing it up, I excitedly picked it up. Evan looked at me in slight surprise.

Evan: You want to try?

MC: Yeah! Plus, I'm wearing a dress, so I don't have to worry about getting my pant leg wet or anything like that!

Evan took one glance at the way I was brandishing the harpoon, looking ever so eager to try my hand at it, and softened. A helpless yet tender look dyed his orbs.

Evan: Alright, but be careful not to slip.

MC: Right!

I took the harpoon to the river bank and quietly searched for my quarry.

Soon enough, a shadow slid smoothly across the water. But, it had already gotten long out of reach before I had the time to react.

I observed the waters for a while more, familiarizing myself with how the fishes moved.

When another fish appeared, I timed myself, raising the harpoon high and bringing it down hard!

The harpoon jostled the river and disturbed the dirt at the bottom of the riverbed. However, there was no fish in sight when the waters came to a standstill once more. There was only a harpoon, firmly embedded into the riverbed.

MC: Feels like I'm swerving my hits a bit…

A small laugh came from behind as a warm hand enclosed mine, wielding the harpoon together with me. He dislodged it and returned it to my grasp with surprising ease and finesse.

Evan: It's alright. Try again.

Evan: Throw the spearhead further to prevent hurting yourself.

I nodded and took the harpoon. Soon, I took my aim at another incoming fish.

I inwardly encouraged myself: I'll get it this time!

I swung the harpoon and sent it stabbing downward. This time, I felt like I'd hit the target quite accurately!

However, the fish wiggled for a bit beneath my harpoon before speedily making its slippery escape…

MC: *Sigh*...Is it because I'm too weak?

Evan: It's because you hesitated.

MC: Hmm, maybe a little. I suddenly feel a little hesitant to deal the finishing blow when I think of how this harpoon inevitably pierces the fish’s body.

Evan: Reluctance to deal the finishing blow is only normal. How about I do it instead?

A strong wave of reluctance surged up within my heart. I swiftly hid the harpoon behind my back.

MC: Nah. I’ve only tried it twice! Give me a couple more chances and I’ll definitely be able to do it!

Evan: If you say so.

Evan: Then you'll have to be faster, and you'll have to land harder hits than that.

Evan: Or you can think of it as your enemy, or maybe someone you dislike?

MC: Hahaha… Well, about that…

I thought about it seriously for a while, but I couldn’t think of anyone I particularly disliked.

Hence, I looked back at Evan and casually dropped him a question.

MC: I can't really think of any off the top of my head. Do you have anyone you dislike?

Evan was taken aback. His eyes were slightly lowered as if he was hiding some sort of emotion that dwelled within.

I suddenly recalled that we’d come on this trip precisely because something had happened beforehand to make him unhappy. Now, his expression only made me understand it more with stark clarity: yes, he did have someone he disliked...

MC: You don’t have to think about unhappy things! I’m sure that person’s not a good person if they’ve made even you dislike them! I’ll teach them a lesson!

Evan: Why, thank you.

With the harpoon in tow, I returned to the river bank. Reflected in my mind was none other than how Evan had reacted to my earlier question.

Just what sort of issue would trouble someone as strong as him? On that same note, just what sort of person would cause someone as powerful as him to become this restless and uneasy?

Then, a fish slowly swam into my line of sight. And it was precisely with this sort of mood that I raised the harpoon high in the air, sending it plummeting downward without a moment’s hesitation!

However, the sudden force I’d flung it down with made me lose balance as I went down with it. I felt my waist move backwards from the force as my feet slipped from beneath me...

MC: Uwah!

Splash!

Water splashed in all directions as I slipped right into the river...

Evan: !!

Fortunately, this river wasn’t deep and only reached my waist. Evan swiftly support me as I stood up.

Evan: Are you alright?

MC: I'm fine… my butt's just a little sore… Ow…

Evan: Slowly.

He supported me back to sit on the rock. I looked down to inspect myself. My dress was soaked and dripping water everywhere.

I gathered my dress and wrung out a load of water from it. Ah, how I’ve screwed up...

Evan: Does it hurt anywhere else?

I gathered my hair together in slight embarrassment as I shook my head.

After ensuring that I was not injured in any way or manner, Evan moved to light the stove by my feet. He then removed his jacket and placed it over my lap.

Evan: Be careful not to catch a cold.

My stomach gave a loud rumble in protest the moment he finished. I quickly covered it in embarrassment.

Evan: Alright. Let me procure our lunch.

MC: I'll have to trouble you with it then…

Evan: It's no trouble at all.

Evan removed his glasses, rolled up his sleeves, and picked up my abandoned harpoon on the river bank.

Wrapping his jacket around myself, I looked up at him curiously.

I wonder what the CEO of Warson, ever dignified and well put-together, would look like brandishing a harpoon of steel?

❖☆———————————★❖

Just as I was thinking about that, Evan suddenly went rigid; and I, in turn, watched him with bated breath.

His gaze seemed to be transfixed on a particular fish. His dark red eyes narrowed with intent as the light in his orbs instantly turned to a cold glint; one as sharp as a deadly blade.

He raised the harpoon, the muscles on his arms and chest rippling as they made themselves known in their usage and exuded a raw, primal, sense of power.

The sun's rays glinted off the sharp blade of the harpoon, reflecting the cold light of the forest.

I watched him in a daze. It was almost as if I was watching a formidable and ruthless beast at work after having set eyes on its prey.

I'd rarely seen Evan with such an expression on his face. A thought suddenly popped into my head out of nowhere.

Maybe this was how Evan had always dealt with his enemies; swift and ruthless.

Then, the harpoon flashed through the waters as quick as lightning.

Water splashed everywhere as a muffled thud sounded. Evan had made his quarry, no doubt.

❖☆———————————★❖

With another slosh, the harpoon was withdrawn from the waters. A huge fish followed the length out of the water, trashing incessantly, its tail flicking to and fro.

When Evan turned to look at me, the usual warmth found in his eyes had returned.

Evan: Can you help me fetch a bucket?

I snapped out of the trance, hurriedly moving to fetch a bucket and brought it before him.

MC: You got it in a single strike! You're really awesome, Evan!

Evan: A young lady is waiting for me, hungry and cold, after all.

Embarrassed, I stuck my tongue out at him.

He removed the fish from the harpoon and dumped it into the bucket before returning to the river bank.

Following his return, the harpoon made continuous sounds as it pierced through the waters again and again. His actions grew increasingly precise, and I could tell that he was trying to let out some steam with how much strength he packed into each stab.

Soon, he managed to spear another two fish out of the river. They were both huge and plump, and he seemed to be much more relaxed when he turned back around again.

He knelt down and weighed his spoils with satisfaction.

Evan: The biggest catch weighs nearly 2kg. It should be enough for us.

Afterwards, he neatly killed the fish by the bank before putting them all on the grilling rack. I brushed the fish meat with the barbecue sauce that I'd brought.

The stove burned ever so strongly, and the place was instantly doused with the delicious aroma that rose into the air alongside the smoke. I rubbed my hands in anticipation, so excited about it that I couldn't quite sit still.

The fishes were finally cooked. I quickly took a bite out of it, leaning back in satisfaction as I did.

MC: How fresh! This is too delicious! You should try some too, Evan!

Evan: Sure. Careful not to burn yourself on it.

Saying so, he too, took a piece of the fish and brought it to his mouth. Under my watchful gaze, he gave it a serious chew or two as he contemplated the taste. Eventually, he gave a nod of approval.

Evan: Mmhm. Your sauce does a mean job too.

MC: Not bad, right? This is my personal recipe!

MC: With the fish you caught and my speciality sauce, these fish taste way better than any I've ever had in high-end restaurants!

Evan: We can always eat this again whenever you want to, so long as you're willing.

I nodded, unwittingly flashing him a smile, almost as if making a silent promise to him that we most definitely would.

MC: Have you ever gone fishing, Evan? You technically score full marks in wilderness survival!

Evan: I once lived out in the wild for a while at a time in the past, after all. But, I never had a harpoon back then, so today's my first time using one.

MC: Then you must be a naturally born hunter!

MC: I felt like you were exuding a predatory area when I saw you fishing earlier!

MC: How should I put this… It's as if you'll definitely catch the prey you set your eyes on.

MC: Unlike me… *Sighs*...

Evan: Why the sudden sigh?

MC: Well… I just thought that I'd put up a rather disappointing performance today.

MC: I was the one who got all enticed by the tasty-looking fish, but in the end, not only was I unable to spear a single one, but I've also rendered myself into a right state.

MC: The cat depicted in the cat emote pack online's definitely me. "Small, pitiful, and weak, but eats a whole lot like Tubbs"!

Evan smiled and shook his head. He rested his big hand on my head.

Evan: I don't think this is a fair comparison.

Evan: A kitten won't help me deal with the people I dislike, but that throw of yours earlier was one done with all your might behind the harpoon.

Evan: It makes me feel like I've met someone whom I can entirely trust.

His tone suddenly turned tender and very soft. So soft, that it was almost as if he had all his guards down; but so heavy, that it was as if he'd placed all his trust into it.

It was akin to a small drop of honey, the vicious liquid slowly spreading through my heart.

MC: Of course… I'll always be your most reliable buddy, ever!

MC: But, I'll be happier if I can really be of help to you!

Evan: You've already helped me plenty.

Evan: Next time I have to deal with them, all I have to do is to remember how brave you were and draw strength from that.

I froze. The only thing that my helpful brain provided was the image of me slipping right into the river, butt first. I panicked, instantly setting my chopsticks down.

MC: No! Forget that terrible throw I made earlier! Vanquish the thought!

I laughed as I ate, making a fuss of it all. Before we knew it, all the fish on the grilling rack had been swiped clean.

I embarrassedly put the chopsticks away, awkwardly coming to the realization that I was, in fact, not full yet.

70% filled is still considered full… I inwardly hesitated, mentally debating with myself. I was so absorbed in it that I failed to notice how Evan had a clear view of the expression that flickered across my face yet again.

Evan: I'll go catch some more fish to grill.

MC: Uh… About that… I'm sure the fish meat gets digested quickly! I'm sure that's just what it is!

Evan: No worries.

Evan: The charcoal fire's still going strong and it's still early before sundown. Plus, your dress isn't completely dry either.

Evan: We have more than enough time to slowly eat here, and we can do it until you're full and satisfied.

Evan: And as for just how many fishes you ate… I'll make sure to keep it a secret for you.

MC: Wha?

MC: Evan! I never pegged you for one before, but are you actually up to no-good!?

Evan: I'm being serious here.

Evan: It lifts my spirits whenever I see you eat.

Evan: It makes me feel like there's no simpler pleasure than that.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

After pondering for a while, I finally decided to…

★ E8 NIGHT: Walk a while more before resting ★

MC: I'm good. Besides, it'll be hard to get going again once we sit, so how about we carry on a little while more and see how it goes?

Evan: You're here for fun, so you don't have to be so hard on yourself.

But he'd probably seen the determination colouring my eyes, for he immediately added on to his previous sentence.

Evan: But I'll listen to the leader.

MC:  Hehe. Now that's more like it.

❖☆———————————★❖

We continued our trek deeper until the forest. Enamoured by the various sights and sceneries, the sky had turned dark long before I knew it.

Evan: Let's find a place to put up the tent. I think this place is pretty suitable.

MC: Okay!

We chose a location with a wide expanse of flat ground. Then, we set about executing the next step of the plan: set up the tent.

I took the tent from my bag, spreading it out on the ground.

First, we had to insert the two rods into the tarpaulin sheet. Then, we had to insert each end of the pole into the small hole on each corner of the tent.

However, this tarpaulin sheet was just way too big. One corner came loose right after I secured the other.

I tried my hardest to spread my arms as far as they could go, but it was still a struggle to secure both ends of the pole at the same time. I fought valiantly, only to end up covered in sweat from my moot attempts.

MC: This is the only time I hate having short limbs…

Evan: Let me help you.

I looked back in surprise. Evan had already returned from fetching water by the river.

He put the bucket down and came up behind me, spreading his arms and holding the curved poles in place with ease.

However, doing so made our positions very close to one another.

His arms were warm, firm, and much longer than my own; long enough to entrap me within when he spread it out horizontally like that. Adding on to that, our clothes were both slightly damp and sticking to our skin. I could acutely feel the faint rise and fall of his chest from behind.

The surroundings seem to be growing warmer, and I felt an inexplicable sense of panic.

Evan: You just have to pin the four corners down.

MC: Okay...

I fumbled as I ducked out of the cage of his arms, putting the rods into the small holes.

❖☆———————————★❖

With Evan's help, the tent was soon set up in no time at all.

Afterwards, we ignited the kerosene lamp again and set up a simple table and chairs. And thus, our little fort out in the wild was finally complete.

Everyone has an innate love of small secluded private spaces at least once in their lives. Looking at our small lodging, I felt a sense of joy well up from the confines of my heart.

MC: Evan, let's go in and have a look inside!

I couldn't wait to delve right inside. It was only after I'd spun a full round in fascination that I realized Evan was still standing outside.

That's not right. How could I have fun all by myself? The goal of coming here today was to make Evan happy!

I thought of a way to nudge Evan into action. A light bulb lit in my head.

MC: Evan, I'm the leader today, so you'll do everything I say, right?

Evan: Yes. What do you want to do?

MC: I want to play a game.

MC: I'll be your personal Doraemon for the day. I'll help you fulfil any wishes you want!

A flicker of surprise passed his face.

Evan: Why do you want to play a game like that?

I pulled him along with me, sitting him down on a chair before sitting right across him.

MC: You've always been my Doraemon, so today, let me enjoy the joy of giving just this once.

Evan: I mean, it's not like you can't; but, what are you sure you want to be doing that here?

MC: Challenges only make it that much more interesting! Feel free to shoot any request you may have!

Unable to ignore my insistence on this matter, he folded his arms and lapsed into thought.

Evan: Then I'll just make a random wish… I want this tent to look prettier.

MC: Gotcha! Leave it to me!

This was probably the first time Evan had ever wished anything of anyone…

And now, the one to listen to his wishes was no one but me… Thinking this, the yearning to fulfil his wishes for him only burned ever stronger.

I suddenly remembered how I'd brought a string of small, colourful, fairy lights with me; if only because I'd seen someone decorate their tent with it online some time before!

I held my excitement in check as I rummaged through my bag for the fairy lights, connected the battery to the string of light and turned it on. Then, I flashed it before Evan.

MC: Ta-daaaa! Look!

❖☆———————————★❖

It was well into the night. Dishing out the fairy lights in peak darkness lit up our surroundings in a dazzling array of colours.

Evan widened his eyes in surprise, gently taking the fairy lights from me and scrutinizing them.

Evan: You actually bought fairy lights? You're a competent Doraemon, all right.

The bedazzling lights shone on our faces, adding a couple more watts to his smile.

Evan lowered his eyes, seemingly lost in his memories.

Evan: You know, these fairy lights remind me of the New Year holidays.

Evan: I walked on the streets and saw the doors of many families decorated with fairy lights like these.

Evan: Celebratory and homey… I really adore it.

Watching Evan's wary manner of carefully selecting his words, I couldn't help but feel my heart clench slightly.

Maybe… this was what he imagined home to be like…

However, he quickly snapped back to reality, his gaze falling to the fairy light before us once more.

Evan: The workmanship of these fairy lights are very intricate, and each bulb is shaped differently.

MC: Yeah. Look, this one’s a small pepper and this one’s a little eggplant...

Evan: Yes. And this one here. This one looks like you; the little rabbit.

MC: It really is a rabbit! You've got some keen observation skills.

MC: But, why am I the only animal? That sounds a little lonely…

Evan: You won't be lonely; because the one right beside the little rabbit's me.

Evan spread his arms, displaying the light bulb beside the little rabbit on the string of lights. But, all I saw was a red ball of light there.

MC: And what does this one look like? I can't really tell

Evan: It doesn't matter what it looks like; because I'm the only one who will stay by the little rabbit's side, regardless.

Although his smile was much warmer in the light, his tone still held an undeniable wistfulness.

I felt an odd sense of panic, but I didn't feel like fleeing from it.

❖☆———————————★❖

Eventually, we put the fairy lights up on the tent.

The constantly flickering and changing lights made the tent look cuter, and much more lovely. It felt like home.

I watched as Evan entered the tent, settling himself comfortably within, his eyes narrowing into happy little slits in a closed-eyed smile. Seeing him this relaxed made my heart fill with joy.

MC: Time for your next wish, Evan!

Evan: Are we continuing? I'm already pretty satisfied.

MC: The game's only just started! You can be a little more willful; just like a little kid!

I gently tugged at his arm, softly coaxing him into giving in.

Getting him to relax was no easy feat; and now, I was finally seeing a glimmer of hope! I can't let it go to waste!

Evan: Alright, one more then.

MC: I'll say this first, but you're forbidden from wishing for something overly simple! I'm Doraemon; you've gotta put your trust in me!

Evan: Okay. Then I want to drink hand-brewed coffee.

He levelled a calm gaze at me, seemingly waiting for me to admit defeat; but I only smiled triumphantly.

MC: Just you wait and see!

I knew that Evan loved coffee, so I’d brought some ground coffee powder along with a set of simple brewing tools.

I lit the stove, boiled a pot of hot water, and slowly poured it into the filter where I’d placed the powder, balanced atop an empty cup, going in circular motions. Soon, a cup of fragrant hand-brewed coffee was made.

I handed the cup of coffee to Evan. He lowered his head to give the aroma a whiff, a pleased smile appearing on his face.

Evan: A fragrance that I love.

Evan: But it's missing a little something.

He then moved to personally make a similar cup for me. We both sat down across each other, nursing our cups of coffee and taking small sips from it.

Even while sitting on a foldable chair, the way he drank his coffee was still as elegant as ever.

The forest was silent. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of intermittent chirping of the insects hidden within the foliage, adding to the relaxed and leisurely atmosphere.

MC: Evan, don’t you think that it’s been a long time since we’ve stepped away from the bustling city life to simply spend time together like this, thinking about nothing?

MC: You seem busy lately. I'm honestly a little concerned if you actually have time to wind down…

Evan: Thank you for your concern. I do have the time to do so once in a while.

He raised the cup of coffee in his hand.

Evan: This is the aroma I settle down with every lunch break, to watch a movie, or to read a book.

MC: Right, I often do the same as well.

A flicker of thought entered my mind, and I immediately latched on.

MC: I know! I've helped you think of your next wish!

Evan: Oh? And what is it?

I smiled mysteriously at him, turning around to rummage through my bag.

I happened to bring a book along with me today, so I searched the contents of my bag for it, pulling it out and handing it to him.

He ran his fingers across the gold-gilded text that had been printed onto the book cover. After a while, he suddenly returned the book to me. I raised my head in slight surprise, only to see the slight smile hidden in the corner of his eyes.

Evan: If that's how it is, then could I trouble you to read a paragraph for me?

MC: Sure.

Opening the book, I picked out a story that was about the forest and slowly started reading aloud.

It was seemingly enough to please him. He held onto his coffee, slowly leaning into the soft pillow, closing his eyes in satisfaction.

After finishing a paragraph, I closed the book, only to find him staring at me seriously. There was a fire flickering within his crimson orbs.

Evan: You know, I actually like this story a lot.

Evan: The first time I read this book, I imagined myself in the protagonist’s shoes.

Evan: Riding a small boat in a remote and secluded river, letting the current take me wherever it goes.

Evan: Expecting nothing, with no destination in mind. It doesn’t matter if I get stuck in a rapid, or if I’m just turning around in place.

MC: Sounds romantic enough. What happened after? Did you ever try doing so?

Evan: Not yet. Later, I ended up coming to the forest many times, but unfortunately, none of it was to seek recreation.

Evan: Which means, this is my first time.

Evan: So, thank you; for making this a memorable night for me.

He seemed a little tuckered out, and his voice was as soft as a mere whisper. His eyes were slowly fluttering shut as he spoke.

His eyelashes slid down as his eyes closed, casting a faint shadow on his features. I quietly observed how picturesque he looked like that as I thought back to everything he’d just said. A new plan was born within my heart.

Perhaps this wish was something that I could truly fulfil for him.

❖☆———————————★❖

The next morning, at exactly 5 AM. I was roused from my slumber as my alarm clock rang.

I gave a big wide stretch, casting a glance at Evan. Thankfully enough, he hadn’t been awoken by the alarm and was still curled up in the sleeping bag next to be, fast and soundly asleep.

After doing a simple wash up, I quietly exited the tent.

We passed by a commercial campground yesterday while searching for a suitable campsite. It provided rental services of a wide variety of camping equipment.

That’s why my first thought had been this place when I heard Evan mention boating last night. Hence, I contacted them and reserved an inflatable kayak.

With the help of my mobile GPS navigator, I walked the forest for about half an hour before I finally arrived at the campsite.

After waiting outside for a good long while, the owner whom I’d previously made an appointment with came up to me in a right state of panic.

Campsite Owner: Sorry! Some trouble cropped up, so I’m late…

MC: Don’t worry about it. What happened though? Do you need any help?

Campsite Owner: Can I bother you? If so, then yes please! I’ll tell you what happened…

After a while, I handed a trembling kitten to the owner.

It began rolling about as soon as it returned to its owner’s arms, acting like a baby as it rubbed itself against the owner’s palm, as if expressing regretfulness for its actions.

MC: The little guy must have been scared out of its mind.

Campsite Owner: Yeah. Thank you so much, Miss! I have no idea what I'd have done without you.

MC: Don't worry about it. It's no big deal.

When I came to the campsite earlier, the owner had been in the middle of a cat problem. It had climbed to the top of the tree without anyone's notice and didn't dare come down.

It had been meowing helplessly at the very top. Hence, I immediately joined the rescue effort without a second thought.

I hear that it had already been stuck up the tree for about 10 hours or more. We didn't have a tall enough ladder, so it took a great amount of improvisation to finally save the poor kitten.

Campsite Owner: Oh, right. J nearly forgot your kayak. This isn't light, though! Can you carry it alone?

MC: Huh?

I stepped forward to test its weight. The folded inflatable kayak was indeed heavier than I expected. But thinking about how Evan would react upon seeing this kayak, I suddenly felt that this extra weight meant absolutely nothing in comparison.

Campsite Owner: *Sigh* Since you've helped me, I ought to repay you the favour by lugging this back for you. But I've still got appointments later so I really can't afford to leave...

Campsite Owner: Rental's free of charge then! Have fun with it!

MC: It's alright, I can just take my time carrying it back. Thank you!

After bidding my farewells to the owner, I took the kayak with me and left the campsite.

I hadn't made it fat when my arms started feeling sore. All I could do was to put the kayak on the ground and take a short breather.

As I spaced out, I suddenly heard a muffled sound coming from within the depths of the forest.

My ears tuned in to the sound in full alert. Whatever that was, it was by no means small. 

Was it an animal? Or was it someone?

The crunching sound of leaves approached closer and closer. Now, I could tell without a doubt that those footsteps were most definitely human. And it sounded a little rushed; panicked, even.

Feeling a little uneasy, I couldn’t help but stand back up.

Then, a familiar figure emerged from the dense forest.

MC: …Evan!?

He seemingly breathes out a long sigh of relief upon spotting me. He quickly strode up to me.

Evan: I finally found you, at least.

Evan: I woke up in the morning to find you missing, and you never picked up even when I called. I was worried sick.

He looked as calm and unruffled as ever at first glance. The only difference was that he seemed a little out of breath.

This place isn’t close to our campsite at all. How long has he been searching for me out in the woods?

Thinking about it made me feel a little guilty.

I ended up telling him briefly about the unexpected situation I’d encountered in the commercial camp and everything before that.

MC: I left really early. I initially thought that I’d be back before you woke up, but I never thought that I’d take that long to get back...

MC: I’ve been busy this entire time so I didn’t have the time to check my phone. Sorry for worrying you.

Evan: It's okay. Just… Don't leave my side without saying anything next time, alright?

I nodded and lowered my eyes in embarrassment. Unexpectedly, I then noticed that he’d buttoned a button near the hem of his dress shirt wrong.

Having never seen Evan disregard his appearance in this manner before, I very nearly failed to suppress my snort of laughter.

Evan: Hm? What's the matter?

I shook my head, undoing that button and rebuttoning it right. It was only then that he noticed his slight gaffe. He laughed at his own mistake.

Evan: …Thank you.

Looking into his eyes, I couldn't hold back the urge to ask him the one thing that had been nagging at my mind.

MC: This place is not anywhere close to our campsite. How did you know I was here?

Evan: I couldn't contact you in the morning, so I searched around the tent to see if you left anything resembling a note behind.

Evan: I remembered that you seemed interested in this place when we passed by it yesterday, so I thought that maybe this was where you'd gone.

I hadn’t expected him to see completely through me as he cast a glance at the kayak on the ground.

MC: *Sigh* Why did you figure everything out like that? I wanted to surprise you!

Evan: Don't worry about it. This is also a surprise in and of itself, don't you think? Thank you for all the effort you've put in.

Evan: It feels pretty good to have your wish granted by someone else.

He gently took my hand in his, enveloping my palm in his bigger one, transmitting his unusual body warmth.

Evan: But I also want you to know that just you being by my side's more than enough for me.

My train of thought was disrupted by his tender gaze, making it hard for me to gather my thoughts together.

MC: But I don't think that's enough.

MC: You’re always taking care of others and listening to their wishes, but you can’t forget yourself and your wishes.

MC: I want to hear more of your wishes. You can always be a little greedier when you’re with me, Evan...

He looked at me for a fleeting second before suddenly closing in on me. He only stopped when my figure was completely enshrouded within his shadow.

Evan: Then, can I be greedy one last time?

MC: Huh…?

Not waiting for me to give him an answer, he advanced a step forwards, pulling me into a hug.

His arms were solidly wound around me, and the fragrance of wormwood that came with his embrace was lasting and stronger than ever.

The strength behind his action made it hard for me to reject him, hard for me to escape. 

Oddly enough, I felt a little intoxicated by it, slowly closing my eyes.

❖☆———————————★❖

The next day, early morning. I woke up to the melodious singing of birds.

Evan was already awake, neatly dressed and sitting on the folded chair at the entrance, sipping on a cup of coffee.

Evan: Good morning. Sleep well last night?

MC: Brilliantly! I was so tired from walking so long yesterday that I fell asleep the moment my head met the pillow.

MC: Oh, right. It’ll take quite a long time to go back where we came, so let’s eat something, pack up, and leave as soon as possible!

Evan set his cup of coffee down,

Evan: Aren’t you forgetting something?

MC: Huh?

Evan: I recall you wanting to see bamboo piths, but we have yet to see any.

I froze, awkwardly laughing it off

That had originally been an excuse to get him outside and I’d totally forgotten about it.

MC: Hehe. I’m not that adamant about seeing bamboo piths.

MC: I only said that back then as an excuse to get you out so that you can relax.

MC: I heard that you had things rather rough before that so I was a little worried about you.

He looked slightly surprised. Then, he lowered his eyes, a warm smile catching onto the sides of his mouth.

Evan: So it was because of me.

Evan: Thank you for accompanying me here. I’m certainly much more relaxed now.

MC: But considering how you were previously… Are you really okay?

Evan: Yes. It’s probably not as bad as you’re thinking. I was just thinking about some old people and old things and felt a little glum about it.

Evan: I never thought that I’d end up alarming others.

MC: Why am I “others” now?

MC: Don’t bottle your troubles up to solve them yourself. You need to remember to share them with people close to you as well!

Evan: Okay. I will keep that in mind.

I still didn’t know what he was troubled by, but I suppose this was still within my expectations.

From my impression of him, he has always been strong. It was almost as if he was shouldering a mission that no one knew about, walking down a similarly obscured path.

After finishing breakfast, we packed and prepared to leave the forest.

We idly chatted with each other along the way until suddenly, Evan stopped short while we were passing through an area.

Following his gaze, I saw a unique-looking umbrella-shaped thing growing within the shrubbery’s shade.

Evan: See? We still managed to chance upon it.

MC: Wow, are all of these bamboo piths?

We walked over together, squatting beside the small white fungi.

It had a small black cap and had grown out a long white mesh skirt.

This was the first time I ever saw a bamboo pith growing in the soil. I widened my eyes in surprise, unwilling to blink as I drank in the sight. After observing it for a while, I finally raised a finger, reaching out to touch its “skirt”.

MC: It’s so wet and soft-looking! It’s adorable! Have you seen it before, Evan?

MC: I can’t believe you managed to recognize it at a glance!

Evan: Yes. It was back during the first time I’d been driven into the forest as a child.

Evan: I witnessed the law of the jungle and escaped from the jaws of death of a snake. I felt like the forest was a place filled with danger and wanted nothing but to leave the place the faster, the better.

Evan: Then, just as I was hungry and exhausted, I saw a bamboo pith.

Evan: At that time, I didn’t know what it was and if it was actually poisonous.

Evan: Deep in the throes of despair, I thought “why not just take it, eat it, and see what my fate turns out to be”?

MC: Evan…

Evan: But guess what I saw while I was hesitating?

Evan: I saw it growing its fungus skirt. All it took was a little effort on its part, and its little skirt grew longer and longer.

Evan: I stared at it blankly, in a daze. I didn’t even notice that my legs had gone numb from how long I’d stared at it.

He retracted himself from his memory palace, turning around to face me with a smile.

Evan: It was as simple as a little young lady, capable of encouraging me with its adorability and enchantments.

Evan: It made me understand that forest, in all its gloom and doom, still has its own little interesting spots.

Evan: And that one is only capable of seeing it by living on, don’t you think?

His expression was quiet, but within those calm eyes of his, I could see that little boy who’d struggled his hardest to remain strong. I felt my heart constrict slightly at that and moved to hold his hand tightly in my own.

MC: Evan, that’s all in the past. You’re no longer that helpless little boy.

Evan: No, I’m fine.

Evan: I might have forgotten even this if we hadn’t seen the bamboo piths today.

Evan: It feels a little unbelievable when I think back on it now. It was a memory plagued by darkness, yet it still held its own beautiful moments.

I felt a pang of sorrow creep into my heart. Words of comfort were right at the tip of my tongue, yet I felt like they’d be completely helpless.

This man before me, strong as a warrior; someone who’d been forced to face life-or-death decisions from a very young age… Maybe he wasn’t as complicated as I initially thought he was.

There are many reasons why one would choose death, but to choose life? The reason was simple; just a little spark was required, and Evan was no exception.

MC: I forgot who said it, but someone once said that the meaning of existence that people spend their entire lives seeking out is actually hidden in the simple things.

MC: Evan, won’t you say that you might end up thinking similarly as well one day?

MC: You might not be able to find it immediately, but that’s fine. I will accompany you in your search for it, no matter how long it takes.

Evan fixed me with a profound look before stretching out his hand and reverently crossing it over my own.

Evan: Alright. Together we shall be.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 +3 + 4 | Choice: Call Out [呼唤] ⊹Speak⊹

END 4 + 6 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹

END 7 + 8 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ☆Light & Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Revolution⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Prologue)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #陆沉 #Evan #For Night For Revolution #繁荫秘语 #Umbrae Secrets

[moonah-rose]

Defrosting Grumpy Three (a Season 8 meta)

I keep thinking about how Season 8 of Classic Who is almost like the first one the show has to a ‘season long arc’ that I don’t feel gets talked about enough. Obviously everyone knows it as “the one where the Master is in every story” but I feel like there is a subtle character arc for the Doctor in this season as well which is tied to the two main characters introduced in the first episode; the Master and Jo Grant.

I’m not the first one to point out that out of Three’s five seasons; this is the one where he’s at his most grumpy and short-tempered. I know a lot of people point to this season as reasons for why they don’t like Three and I totally get that, he’s a real git sometimes, in particular the first and last stories. There are moments where he’s asking for a slap and, no, I’m not talking about him claiming to be buddies with Chairman Mao and a Tory MP. Because I would’ve thought it was obvious that he drops those names purely to gain trust of these people who don’t trust him (at least that’s my headcanon because it doesn’t fit with the anti-capitalist, anti-pollution, anti-imperialist writing). Just him being constantly ungrateful to the Brigadier, snapping at Jo, or just being childish in the most ‘kid throwing a tantrum’ way possible.

But it’s easy to get why. By Season 8 he’s been trapped on Earth for we can assume at least a year. New Who fans who’ve seen the Power of Three and saw how crazy Eleven went when he tried to stay on Earth to study the cubes just for a few days/weeks know the Doctor can’t stand staying still, especially in one time and place. In his first season he could be short-tempered but slightly less so. In Spearhead he’s quite polite and motivated, though that could be the most pleasant form of Post Regeneration Trauma he’s been through. Plus he had Liz, who you can see he immediately clicked with. A fellow genius who finds herself out of place or treated a little unfairly as a female scientist surrounded by men, both of them willing to sass the Brigadier when he deserves it. He also still keeps trying to fix the TARDIS, as if convinced this won’t be as permanent as the Time Lords intended.

But by Season 8 (or you could say even before that, in Inferno) his attempts clearly haven’t succeeded past slipping into a terrifying parallel universe, and now cabin fever is setting in. And Liz, his science bud, has gone off and left. And while it’s sad we didn’t get a goodbye between the two of them, her passing remark towards the Brigadier about the Doctor just needing someone to pass him test tubes and fill his praise kink maybe implies that, at least from Liz’ POV, they weren’t as equals as Three thought, or she didn’t feel that fulfilled working with him, even if she did appreciate him as a friend. 

So enter Jo to replace Liz, who is everything Liz wasn’t. Liz had to study and work her way to her position; Jo is a spoiled girl who got to play spy by sheer nepotism. She failed A level science and doesn’t have the same sharp-wit he and Liz shared. Three is mean to her even before she introduces herself as his assistant when she only tries to help, and doesn’t hide his disappointment when she tells him. Perhaps it might also be that she reminds him of his companions before Liz; she’s cute and perky like Zoe and also loyal and determined like Jamie, even though she lacks Jamie’s physical strength and Zoe’s genius. Still, she’s young and he might not want to put her in danger the same way he nearly lost his previous young companions many times in the War Games.

When Three goes to the Brigadier to try to get rid of Jo, the Brig is far more smug than in the previous season, as he seems to have worked the Doctor out by this point. Their little moment at the end of Inferno where Three insults him and tries to escape only to then come back with his tail between his legs acting all buddy has shown him who Three really is; that this whole grumpy shtick of this is just a defence mechanism while he’s so out of his depth. I like to think the Brig hoped Jo would soften him up, to bring out the compassion that was more overt in his previous incarnation, as well as just pass him test tubes and keep tabs on him. His knowing smile when he watches Three try and fail miserably to fire her seems to prove his point.

In the same story we also have the Master showing up for the very first time. He was created to be the ‘Moriarty to the Doctor’s Holmes’. These kind of ‘foil enemies’ that pop up in so many stories, where you have a villain who is supposed to be a perfect match in intelligence or skill to the hero, are more often than not presented as ‘what the hero could have been’ if they chose to be evil rather than good; the Master is no different. And even though it’s not established until the next season that the Doctor and Master used to be friends, there’s clearly an underlining fondness in their banter which hints at past feelings as well as mutual respect. It says quite a lot that Three is more relaxed and friendly during his conversations with the Master half the time they talk than he is with the humans he’s meant to be saving, or even his own close friends. Because, for all their moral disagreements, the Master is his own kind and his only link - other than his broken TARDIS - to the rest of the Universe. 

In almost every story of S8, after the Master has revealed his evil scheme only for the Doctor to point out how it will backfire on him, they have to work together or form some kind of alliance of convenience. In Claws of Axos, the Doctor outright pretends to betray his friends and elope join forces with the Master to escape, only for it to be a trick in order to defeat the Axons. But considering Three’s attitude in this season, it’s a very convincing act as much to the audience as to the humans. And then in Colony in Space, the Master offers the Doctor half-ownership of the Universe....and the Doctor clearly hesitates! Yes, the Master tempts him with the persuasion of ruling ‘in the name of good’ but Three has to take a moment to remember what a slippery slope that line of thinking is. He’s so tired of being trapped, sick of being leashed by the Time Lords, that the Master comes along as a devil on his shoulder at his most vulnerable point. Considering the last story involves the Master summoning the actual Devil (or close enough) and is also where Three’s temper seems to be at its peak seems all too fitting.

It’s also interesting that the Master’s greatest fear that appears in the Mind of Evil is an image of the Doctor laughing maniacally over him. It’s the closest we get to an image of Dark!Three in the show. To contrast; the Doctor’s greatest fear isn’t the Master, it’s the eruption from Inferno. Seeing the Earth swallowed by flame - not because of an outside force like the Daleks or Cybermen, but by humans themselves. It’s easy to imagine him wondering why he even bothers with them when they’re their own worst enemy.

(Side note; apparently the Evil Overlord in the Inferno parallel world IS the Third Doctor, according to the Expanded Universe, though I haven’t read up on this. We were robbed of seeing Pertwee play an evil Doctor.)

So while this is going on and the Master is playing his games with the Doctor while also tempting him, intentionally or not, to the ‘dark side’, we also have Jo at his side. And Jo takes all of the Doctor’s snapping and mood swings like a pro, and is very quickly overwhelmed with a lot of the stuff she’s faced which that she didn’t know she was signing up for - being hypnotised, captured by aliens, taken to alien worlds in the far future etc. She screams as most companions did at that time, but because it is what you would expect from a girl fresh out of school and throwing herself into something she clearly didn’t properly prepare for. The Doctor has to save her a lot, more than often because she tried to help only to get herself captured. As much as he does warm to her - because he’s not immune to how adorable she is - it serves to prove his point. Even when he finally gets to leave Earth for a day, she’s too frightened to want to leave the TARDIS. What good is she to him?

Now she continues to prove she has her uses. She has her escapology skills which get them out of a few tight spots. Depending on the writer, she can turn into an Emma Peel-esque agent capable of self-defence and subterfuge. And she’s always patient with the Doctor, no matter what mood he’s in, and extremely loyal. She’s also kind and compassionate with every side character she comes across. There seems to have been a backlash to these kinds of qualities in female characters in the past twenty years or so, what I like to call the Cinderella critique, where if a woman is kind and generous more so than smart, sassy and sword-wielding she’s seen as ‘weak’. Jo is always there at the Doctor’s side when he’s managed to get hurt or knocked out (Three took a lot of naps, anyone else notice this?). Even after he does whisk her away to another planet and nearly don’t make it back, she could easily throw her job away if it was too much, but she sticks with it because you can see that she wants more than anything to be useful and do good for her world - it would be another two season until she found what her own passion was with being an environmental activist but this is where she wants to start.

But it’s not until the end of S8 that we see Jo’s greatest strength and how it saves Three when every other defence he had was gone. He’s spent most of that story chastising her for believing in magic and superstition, as well as anything else he can find to snap at her for like criticising the Brigadier even though he does the same thing all the damn time (this could be seen as a ‘I can insult my bro but you can’t’ moment but it’s still not pleasant). But when he learns the Master is preparing to sacrifice her, he runs in to save her despite knowing it’s a suicide mission. He also gives a cold exchange to the Master when told he’s a ‘doomed man’. 

Oh I’m a dead man! I knew that as soon as I walked through those doors so you better watch out! I have nothing to lose, do I?

It’s a telling line that, behind all his patronising and abruptness, he’s reached a point he doesn’t feel he has anything left to keep going. He’s lost his freedom and his knowledge of time travel; but he’ll die before letting Jo die or letting the Earth burn again. When Azal claims the daemons gave humans knowledge, Three responds: Finally he’s turning his anger on the one who deserves it to save the one who has been his friend, even at his lowest points, for the past several months, while still showing his disappointment in what he’s seen of humans living amongst them:

You gave them knowledge to blow up the world and they most certainly will. They can poison the water and the very air they breathe. 

When Azal appears, he nearly makes the Master’s greatest fear come true by offering his power to the Doctor instead. And the Doctor looks horrified, immediately doing a Jon Snow and refusing it. Unlike when the Master offered him power before, he doesn’t hesitate for a moment, even though Azal’s powers could probably get his TARDIS working again in a snap. He looks almost scared at the thought of possessing something like that. Perhaps his dark persona in that other world became that way because he did take such an offer?

Azal prepares to kill the Doctor for refusing his offer, which is where Jo saves the day by offering her life for his. A lot of people dislike this ending for the idea of the villain being destroyed ‘by the power of love’ more or less, but this was a lot less common a deus ex machina as it is in New Who. The Doctor explains how it works when they’re free as:

Azal could not accept a fact as irrational and illogical as Jo being prepared to give up her life for me.

Three says it as he’s just as baffled, if also amused, by it as Azal was. Why would Jo give up her life for him? Compare that with when Ten has to give up his incarnation to save Wilf, how he rants that Wilf isn’t important but he has ‘so much more’ to give. Even the Doctor wrestles when it comes to sacrificing himself for others sometimes but Jo did it without a seconds thought, made even more illogical given Three’s often harsh treatment of her. But one thing that is obvious is that Three’s grumpy face is gone; he’s smiling for the rest of the episode, looking at Jo with quiet heart eyes, and letting her drag him into the maypole dance, conceding that she was right and there is ‘magic’ in the world. 

Much like Rose was the companion Nine needed after the Time War to enjoy seeing the Universe again and appreciating life, Jo serves a similar purpose in S8 in that she gradually reminds the Doctor through her actions of the strengths in being brave, kind and selfless. She and the rest of the UNIT family are there to remind him of the goodness in humanity and that we’re always learning and trying to improve; as Three says to Azal that ‘they need a chance to grow up’. Jo is the angel on his shoulder to contrast the Master as his personal devil; right down to having her dressed in the sacrificial ‘virgin’ garb opposite the Satanic Master to cap the season off.

Three still has his sour moments after this but he’s far less cantankerous going forward and sweeter towards Jo especially, praising her bravery and learning in future, just as Jo also grows more confident in her abilities and enjoys her adventures with him. He seems far more relaxed on Earth and less desperate to get away because of the people he has around him that make it worth staying around for. Three’s morals and loyalty to humanity might not have been so firm had Jo not been there to ground him, especially with the Master constantly there almost holding out a hand to him offering freedom and excitement. Like all good companions, she saves the Doctor as much as he has to save her, in more ways than one, which she doesn’t get nearly enough credit for. And it’s what adds to the heartbreak of her eventual exit because of the effect she had on his life.

It’s just one of my favorite tropes when a character gets better and softens or becomes kinder not because they had to ‘change for someone else’ but because they were inspired by them, especially if it’s the person they underestimated the most.

#it's about found family yo #classic who meta #doctor who #third doctor #jo grant #three x jo #the master #unit era