#While whoever is behind Raven is practically vibrating as much as I am to get on with the plot

[wintertimestoryteller]

Linked Universe x Reader Fairy Tale Collection

@luimagines . Third scene in the opening act, it will have 5 scenes in total before actual romance, not fully satisfied with it though so I might remaster it in the future, these past few weeks have been... Something, but I still wanted to move things along and post this week so hope whoever reads this enjoys ^^

Fun Fact: All folks in the theater crew's names are references to an indie series of musical operas, wonder how many people will catch each one, just thought it fitting given the setting, I wouldn't recommend getting attached though, they won't appear at all past the opening act unlike Dark's hired help, who will have a little bit of purpose on the narrative and have some scenes but won't take the spotlight, wouldn't recommend getting attached to any of them.

A few things happened in between the time Reader fell asleep, woke up and fell asleep again.

Plus, there's going to be lots of easter eggs to other fairy tales and fairy tale adjacent stories in the story plus towards Zelda in general, some obvious, others not. Might put some fun facts about them in here before each story and/or act if you're all interested, you can see who will have each story by checking out the original prompt on Luimagines' blog except for First's, Calamity's and Spirit's, I have something special in mind for them. FD only isn't in this story because I'd have to dip into mythological territory for him, but I'll probably write a solo thing for him later on to compensate. Look out for a Masterlist of this after we are done with the opening act.

Oh and uh, warning for fairy tale typical violence in the next scene (I mean, the Disney versions are technically already gruesome and the most recognizable, but other versions also go pretty darn dark) plus Zelda typical violence, so just a quick warning while I can even if it's only on the next act, though the character will technically be fine, if probably traumatized.

Opening Act, Scene III

It barely took a minute to explain the situation to Time, and not even a full hour for your little group consisting of yourself, Twilight, Cal, Time and Wild all to recall the others to the village square to explain the situation in full. The director long since left it and the oak tree looked awfully lonely for a moment against the backdrop of a darkening horizon (when had the storm clouds thickened so much? It was plenty sunny a few hours ago).

As you guessed, Time already heard from the mayor and innkeeper that the inn had been attacked, and he likely would have talked to the director had you not beaten him to it.

"50 rupees this is a trap. Come on now, show of hands for those who think so." Came the sharp, downright arsenic tone from Legend, caged and ornery like a fox (rabbit?) Who once had it's tail caught in a trap and learned the hard way to chew his limbs off to be able to flee for another day.

You can't exactly blame him for getting snappy though, the situation is pretty unsettling and you all know it. And this group had seen a lot.

Four snorted a bit, "No bet, I'm not losing money over something that obvious. I don't know about you all but I really can't believe in coincidences with the way things are lining up."

'It's definitely the work of the Shadow then.', signed Calamity, posture straight and alert. Hand on the hilt of his sword like a silent sentinel, as if expecting we'd all be jumped. A clear contrast from the quiet but polite young man from before, box up the young man, set loose the soldier, '... We're being cornered, led by the noose. We shouldn't accept.'

"It might be the only lead we will have in a while though." Grimaced Warriors, arms crossed as he leans against the oak tree, his strategic mind going a mile a minute through the possibilities. As expected of a war commander and the left hand of his Zelda, "Don't get me wrong, this is all bloody unnerving. Specially given how (Reader)'s conversation went with the director, but it might be better in the long run to risk it and get more leads once the storm passes. Who knows when we'll next find shelter? Getting sick with a storm like this coming with zero information wether or not there's a second village nearby or if any other person will let us stay for a while would just leave us more vulnerable."

"Doesn't exactly mean we have to like it.", Sighed Spirit, a hand on his hip, nervous and skittish but doing his best to contribute anyway, "It's like stepping onto the tracks when you know for a fact there's a train coming no matter how good the reason is, but Cap' is right. Me and Wind asked around, doesn't seem like there's any other villages or cities nearby where we can stop, and the terrain isn't right for caves in this Hyrule. We'd be in big trouble eventually even if we retraced our steps."

"Speaking of that, what do any of you make of this storm?", Hyrule interjects, looking at a frowning Wind, "I can't sense anything particularly magical about the town, except maybe the fortune teller and the potion makers, but..."

Wind groans, frustrated as he crosses his arms, "That's the thing, it looks like it should be unnatural. Winds like that don't blow easily in any of your Hyrule's, specially so far away from sea, it's usually just in mine. It looks wrong, but it doesn't feel wrong! The Wind Waker won't clear it either." Spirit put a hand on his shoulder in sympathy, clearly this was driving the Sailor up the wall as the Link most attuned to the flow of winds and weather, except maybe peculiarly enough Four.

"Have you tried the Song of Day?"

Time nodded to First, "We did it already with the Sailor's baton, no change." True to his word, the howling of storm winds picked up as if on cue, or maybe spite. Almost blowing Legend's hat straight off his head to match Wild's hood, you quickly snatched it as he cursed before it could get too far.

Yup, if this was a natural storm you'd eat Hyrule's cooking for a month straight at a bare minimum. "Do you think there's dark magic involved at all?", You inquire to Twilight, Warriors, Sky and Four, the one's who had the most experience with it out of the group as you finished helping Wild with putting most of your cooking supplies away. Gooseflesh crawls up your arms, it was getting chilly and you couldn't help but look over Wind and Spirit, though it seems Warriors beat you to getting their cloaks repaired at the tailors. They've ripped recently and the thread ran out so you, Legend, himself and Sky couldn't do it as usual.

"Here," he passes you your cloak from his slate, you blink as he gives you a smile, "It's about time I gave it back to you anyway." The habit of Chain members accidentally grabbing stuff from one another was legendary by now (and the fact that some items like Sky's Sailcloth, Twilight's necklace and Four's Sword were off limits, you'd have better luck getting Legend to allow you to borrow an item than getting them to part from those), you just didn't think it would extend to you.

"Thank you.", Smiling, you snuggle into the fabric, tilting your head at the headshake from Twilight as he takes the floor, "If there is, it's too faint for any of us to really notice it. Or it's just not the type we are using to deal with."

"We won't exactly know unless we're in the building most likely.", Sighed your resident captain, the smith nods along and adds in, "There definitely was some around the inn though, in the rubble. But not really anywhere else strong enough to notice, could be because of the monster presence here recently."

"Fi's been quiet too, plus that Raven fellow didn't even seem to bat an eye at her presence, unlike the Shadow would." Sky spoke thoughtfully, you had seen them pass by one another didn't they? It was likely then that he checked.

"Mhn, they act strangely but they're not possessed from what we can see either."

Legend shakes his head with a huff, "Much as I hate to admit they're right, disguised monsters usually have cracks in their facades, either it's a really good, really patient one, or just a Goddess damned weirdo with a few screws loose."

Neither alternative is good, you think and despite yourself, your gaze drifts to the theater building again. True to the stranger's word, the doors were open and the gales were picking up, you still have that niggling feeling from before, the unease that picks up the shoe before letting it drop, the feeling of being at a stalemate with a Lynel or breaths away from getting shot down by a Guardian as you look at the dim lights of the second floor of candles and lanterns likely being lit up. As much as you wanted to believe this was a rare struck of luck the Chain some times had when traveling (in meeting some times strange, but helpful individuals), something in there shook you, and laughed in your face when you couldn't figure out where the possible dagger was coming from.

The thunder roars as lightning strikes the earth, joining the once peaceful breeze turned into a furious zephyr in it's howling, screaming melody as the first drops of water begin to fall, seems the grace period you and the Chain had was up.

"Old man?" "Grandsire?" Inquired both Twilight and Sky, as you all leave the final decision to them (an inevitability really, with a group this big and diverse). Time and First trade a look, seemingly having a silent conversation, before First nods lightly, sighing, Time nods in acquiesce, "We'll accept lodging until the storm is gone and not a moment less, everyone be on your guards. And anything suspicious or sign of the Shadow you tell one of us immediately, we mean it, do not engage or go off alone, this doesn't look like a Dungeon but we can quickly be proven wrong."

And that was that.

As one, you all walk towards the theater, the director seemed to be talking with someone at the door, a young woman with curly hair close to her chin. They wave her off as she runs back inside the building, tugging excitedly on the arm of another young lady, this one tall with hair a pale shade of blonde to the seats where you can briefly spot a side door who giggles at her excitement, the director gives them both a fond grin before turning to your group with a wink, "Nothing like seeing young people have fun mhm? So, I take it you made your choice."

First nods respectfully, voice steady and even, "Indeed, thank you very much for your hospitality."

The director rolls their eyes with a chuckle, ushering you all in, "Oh stop, you'll make me blush! It's nothing really, I have more than enough space and am always eager to please and entertain."

"It's still appreciated nonetheless."

They shake their head at Time, "So very polite, no need. Now! In you all go, I'll show you all to your rooms on the second floor and the communal area backstage."

You pause, just a step behind Sky, Wild and Hyrule, who scanned the warm lobby space with open interest, Spirit barely being able to hold Wind back from just running off as the director closes the doors behind Calamity, Legend and Warriors, their Hyrule's didn't have anything similar to theaters, at least not anymore on some cases not to mention many of the Links would have had time or interest to frequent these spaces anyway, so their curiosity was warranted. A glance from Time and First quickly stop any shenanigans at the director's back, "Has the communal area always existed?" You ask.

"Not really, most of these buildings don't have those. But I wanted the best for my actors you know? Some of them have nowhere to go, and letting such talent go to waste would be a shame. Hence why I had something of a substitute for it built in and rooms up above.", Shrugged Raven, going through the open doors on their left, "Comes in handy anyway when things like this happen, we have plenty of rooms for you all individually, so don't worry about sharing. Backstage and the communal area are just beyond the main treat of this place." There's a grin on their voice as they say so, and you quickly see why as your breath is briefly taken away.

The auditorium is beautiful, open and spacious with a grand stage where most of the lightning would be focused on, but generally bright enough as there are visitors as you spot a young man with red hair helping a blonde lady light the other lanterns. The curtains open with minimum scenery on the dark wood stage and the stands go from the very beginning of the auditorium, to the sides and second floor where two stairs covered by a dark red carpet lead up to the boxes', an iron chandelier hangs from the dark wooden rafters, casting light onto wooden beams and gray walls. Simple and solemn, but elegant enough to feel comfortable and homey rather than something more opulent or rigid, at least on any other occasion.

Raven's grin widens, seemingly satisfied at your reaction and what they seem to find on the faces of the Chain from open appreciation to curious interest, they stand in the road to the stands and take a bow, "Welcome to Astoria Theater, enjoy your stay! Once you've seen one of our performances you'll never want to leave!", They straighten up, something about their movement feels... Off, but you shrug it off as they nod to the red haired young man and lady sliding down the stairs, by the stairs you spot two side doors at the corners of the stage's stairs, the salt and pepper haired playwright seems more than pleased to themselves as they nod to each one, "Communal area and kitchen to the right, bathrooms and showers to the left. Feel free to help yourselves to the pantry, our home is your home." With a quick hop and sweep of their sleeve, they call the young red haired man over, "Edgar here will lead you to your rooms and if anything feel free to ask him, Anabella, Amelia, Byron or Priscilla, there's enough space so you all shouldn't need to bunk together." The newly named Edgar nods, a black cat comes hopping and balancing on the seats to settle on the theater's owners shoulders, earning itself an ear pinch before they move on, "All I really ask is that you keep away from the quarters of the crew and my own. Not many of us around today since most have their own places now, but just enough we can probably be nice enough hosts."

"Also keep away from the costumes and prop rooms and the stage", chimed in the other blonde lady, either Amelia, Anabella or Priscilla you guessed, "Byron is downright feral when someone messes with his hard work."

Edgar raised an eyebrow at her, "Downright, Anabella? You'd think he was raised by a pack of Wolfos if not by seeing him with that little village herbalist."

"I HEARD THAT!" Comes the yell from backstage, as a young man with brown hair sends a scatching glare from behind the curtain, the Chain as one jumps, and you thank your lucky stars for their restraint indoors even as you have to half remind yourself not to throw your dagger either. "Costume making with you people is maddening and you know it, no thanks to your stunts! And don't you bring Lynn into this you pompous pri-"

"Alright! Settled down you two!" Raven claps sharply with a stern look, Edgar sneers at presumably Byron while the later growls, they sigh, pinching the bridge of their nose before sending your group an apologetic, tired look you've seen on Time's or First's face many, many times over the course of this adventure, "Apologies about them, things can get hectic some times. Anyway, just don't go to those places uninvited and remember your end of the bargain." Brightening up, they grin, "Nothing like meals and a show during rainy days you know? It will be a nice distraction for us all I'd wager, we'll make sure to call you lot so you can take it in the stands."

"It's alright.", First relaxed, hand that had instinctually gone to the sword at his side falling limp, Time was the second to compose himself fully with a wry sigh, "Trust me, we understand pretty well."

"Thank you so much again for your hospitality." Sky spoke up, smiling warmly, Edgar seemed to blink a few times, Anabella almost dropped a candle she had in hand, while Raven simply smiled, "Don't mention it, really."

"We mean it, it's appreciated." Nodded Warriors, with Twilight right behind him.

They shrug, waving your group off. "It's not much at all, as long as we can tell stories we are satisfied. It's in the theater's and on the lobby's sign and all."

Edgar nods briefly, "All of us fell for the theater at some point due to that. It's only inevitable."

... For some reason, that makes you pause, that prickle of unease rearing it's head. You study them closely, but the director simply shrugs, sweeping sleeves flapping about as they shoo you group off. "Now off you go! You've had a long day, take your time, unwind, and we'll have the stage set properly tomorrow."

With that, you're all lead away. To the second floor and, true to Raven's word. There was an available room for everyone, all of them standard and pretty much the same with a single bed, desk with an unlit lantern, and a simple wooden wardrobe, after showing us all to our rooms, Edgar left swiftly, muttering something about 'needing to redo the scenery'. Tiredness you've barely registered crept onto the edges of your mind, you stifle a yawn and wave to your company, "I think that's my cue, I'm going to take a nice long nap for now."

"First sign of a bed and already trading us for it?", Teased Wild, making you poke his chest and flick a pointy ear, lips pursed so you won't smile at the little twitch, "Of course, just because I travel and adore you lads doesn't mean you're not exhausting to my sanity."

"Ouch." Mock hissed Spirit, Wind from his side hmphing, "I'll have you know we are a delight, thank you very much! If anything being around us is probably better for your health!"

You chuckle, ruffling Wind's hair and patting Spirit's head beneath his hat, ignoring both the indignant squawk and light bat like an annoyed cat, "I know, I know, don't take it personally. I'm really just tired."

"We know, it's been a long day and an even longer week," Sky smiled softly, giving you a gentle push onwards, before stifling a yawn, "Honestly I might follow your example."

"We meet later on for dinner?" Chimed in Wild, shifting in place, "I kind of want to check their pantry before anything else. See what we'll be working with."

Time nodded, addressing the Chain as one, "We'll meet up in the auditorium, you all get some rest until then. It will be a long stay so we may as well get used to this place."

"Don't give any trouble to our hosts, and if any of you notice something off come fetch me or Time." Came from First, you catch the tail end of agreement from the boys as you open and close your door, breathing in deeply.

You still can't push that feeling that something about this is too easy, or that the other shoe is going to drop. But faced with a warm bed and at least somewhere semi-secure from monsters after so long on the road, you can't bring yourself to dwell too deeply on in it, you set your bag on the wardrobe and atop a pile of wooly blankets. Picking one for your own use while you can, take of your boots and set them by the night stand, dim the lantern and then fall back onto the mattress, wrapping yourself comfortably and not forgetting to place the dagger beneath your pillow.

You fall quickly into a warm and dreamless sleep, unaware of a black cat with crimson eyes watching you from above, as the shadows shift unnaturally and the lantern almost goes out, before it slinks away into the shadows, slipping away unnoticed.

_______________________________________________

Long after night fell, dinner had been had along a relaxed retelling about the adventures of a young wooden puppet who became a human and all activity had ceased from most other guests and hosts alike. The darkness and shadows of the corridors shifted oddly, flickering as if someone had set a candle by them when all light have been either dimmed or blow out, they seethed and snapped and twisted as form was given to one of their own even as they hissed at the anomaly, wanting to be set to their natural, usually still and silent state again.

Sadly, they wouldn't be able to return to sleep just yet.

First came legs, then a torso and arms, neck and a head with short chin lenght hair, shades draped upon them in a shape like a tunic's and forming boots at their feet and red, red eyes, a shade bright like rubies found in the Era of Wild, bright even in the dark. Something snapped within the darkness, visibly shifted and cracked itself into place, and the figure stepped out, while once as obsidian as the shadows he was named from, color seemed to flood into the being as the remaining shades melted away, giving way to dark purple hair held back with a black headband, sickly pale skin from being unable to stay in the sunlight, and where there once was only the shape of eyes now there was a sclera.

There in the empty lobby stood a perfect copy of The Hero of Minish, the Shadow behind the Four Sword Wielder.

Shadow stretched, cracking his neck with a relieved sigh, "Now that is much more like it." His crimson eyes surveyed the room almost critically, narrowed and wary, he clicked his tongue with a sigh, wrinkling his nose, the only sound in a theater as quiet as a mausoleum, "Sheesh, no wonder Rainbow was on edge... This place is enough to give even me the creeps." And he had worked under Vaati, yikes. Shrugging, he went forward into the darkened auditorium, footsteps silent as the building, "Let's see what we can find, shall we?"

----------------------------------------------------------

Humming, the masked figure grinned, putting quill to paper from a darkened spot in the balcony, the Director walked away from their room with a candle in hand and a case on the other heading down the stairs, a black cat with blood red eyes stared judgmentally at the masked one's glee, "There you are." They waved the cat off, it rolled it's eyes with a hiss, but melded into the shadows easily enough, the figure leaned comfortably against the balcony railing and got to writing, ink crimson and then back where the quill passed, "First thing most fairy tales and stories teach you: never wander off alone, good intentions or not."

Opening Act, Scene III End.

[angeli-marco-writes]

Elizabeth Debicki - Gorgeous

A/N & WC - Back again with Elizabeth and Taylor Swift. Reputation is my favourite album currently, with evermore as a close second. Two incredible women in one yes please. Listen to 'Gorgeous' while reading for the feel of it. 2.8k exactly.

Warnings - Legal alcohol consumption, mild cursing once.

Summary - Elizabeth is gorgeous, just look at her, the world can see it. A drunken night leads to some tipsy confessions, but does Elizabeth feel the same?

“YOU'RE SO GORGEOUS…”

“What was that?” Elizabeth swiftly cuts in.

Your eyes grow wide in an instant, looking down intensely at the black table, sticky with spilt drinks, and turn your attention away.

“Nothing…” you trail off. Frankly, you hadn’t realised you were thinking aloud, but if you said what you were thinking, then tonight's girls night out with your best friend is gonna be a whole lot harder.

“So as I was saying, this guy from Bumble, he comes and he looks nothing like his profile picture, right?” Her eyes are so animated when she speaks, her jaw agog in a remembering shock, she taps at her glass with ebony painted fingernails. “Like his picture was a solid eight outta ten, but in person, not even a four. But there was something about him, you know? That little twinkle in his eye, so I gave him more of a fair shot than I do other catfishes.” You hum noncommittally, not necessarily listening to the words, but the soft undulating animation in her beautiful accent is worth listening to any day, even if just hearing about her going on a date with someone riles you up intensely. “No personality,” she gapes, smacking her lissom hands down on the table with a slight thump, causing some of her wine to spill. “Absolutely none! It was like talking to a brick wall for half an hour. Can you believe it? And he asked what part of Australia I was from, and when I said Melbourne, you know what he said? ‘Is that in New Zealand.’”

She scoffs, and downs the last of her wine. Her magnetic field is so strong, so alluring, you can’t help but feel drawn to her even more. She really should think about the consequences of her charisma or else you might snog her and ruin everything before the nights even over.

“What a dick,” you play along.

“Ugh, I know. Refill?”

“Please. Whiskey—”

“On ice. I know, hon.”

She smirks, shooting you a wink before standing up and practically gliding across the room to the bar. Your eyes twinkle with hope, with sinful want, as you watch her, and you’re sure that with your wistful expression and flushed cheeks and the way your mouth suddenly goes dry the second she says or does anything that could be construed in the least bit flirtatious that she knows how much you like her. Your whole body tingles, your words and sense swallowed up by an intense fire the second she touches you, it’s beginning to make you furious that she’s able to make you feel this way and still acts so coy about it if she even does have the first clue how utterly besotted you are with everything she does.

Over at the bar, Liz has to hunch to lean her forearms on the countertop, kicking her feet back a little, her short dress showing off her long, shapely legs with grace. She looks so sultry, with her leather jacket shrugged so casually over her pale shoulders. But your mind and illicit thoughts plummet and die the second you peer around her and capture a look at the bartender she’s talking to. Tall and that muscular build of slim that only comes from years of sport, a pinched waist and full chest, tanned skin—perhaps of Filipina descent, dark inky hair falling in tendrils from her work ponytail, no makeup and she still looks stunning. And exactly like Shay Mitchell. And she's flirting with your Elizabeth. Not that she’s yours or anything, that would be absurd, unless…

This woman is gorgeous, and you’re already jealous of her, of the attention she’s receiving from Elizabeth; the suggestive touches, the coy laughs, the revealing tug of her dress, the tentative tilt of her head, the run of her slender hand through her choppy blonde locks. But because Liz is single, it’s actually worse, because she’s been a lot more open and experimental with her sexuality recently, not labelling it but trying more out, trying more partners out. And you don’t fault her for that for even a moment, but why she can’t experiment with you, a raging queer, is beyond your grasp. It’s almost undoubted that she’s going to be taking this incredibly scorching hot bartender home at the end of the night, and if you weren’t out with Elizabeth, you’d be making the same move. But Liz… she desperately needs to think of the consequences of her touching this romans hand in a darkened room. That should be you.

You can’t get too possessive, though, as Liz has done her fair amount of touching you all night on this signature girls pub crawl, but it’s not the same, it’s not… enough. She’s been holding your hand, hooking her arm through yours to do shots, hugging you with her lithe arm around your waist as you totter down the high street in heels too high. It’s all been too friendly, though. And now it’s getting late, your final destination of the night. You’re practically the only patrons with a conscience at this point. You’ll be turning in soon, the bar will be closing soon, it’s inevitable. Liz will have a warm bed, and you’ll be left to go home alone to your cats. She’s so gorgeous, you can't blame the bartender, but she can’t blame you wither; love made you crazy.

You’re busy brooding over the ice slowly melting at the bottom of your glass, condensation forming in droplets on the rim when Liz casts a glance over her shoulder, a bright beaming smile etched upon her face, every line drawn up to match her glee. She points a long raven-painted digit at you, and prompts you to smile back, which you do—without even half as much fervour—and ensure you incline your head towards the bartender, whose dark hazel eyes are now fixed on you, before turning back, pretending to have found something of interest on the table.

“That’s y/n,” she says in a happy, furtive whisper, “my best friend.”

With her ocean blue eyes looking in yours, your mind is all scrambled, and with the intense feeling you might sink and drown and die, you know you need to get it in order before she returns, so you push your own stool out and head to stand in the doorway, fresh air hitting you like a brick wall.

The smell of the city instantly prevents it being worthwhile.

The sun set long ago, and you can see vines crawling up the building across the road from you, even in the dim street light and shadows. Even in a tucked away corner of the city, down back streets in a quiet quarter, the incessant incense of exhaust fumes and chippy food and pigeon shit never quite leaves one alone.

Everything’s winding down, quietening, muffled by an indelible blanket of night. A soft mist fills the air, an impending storm infiltrating your senses, roiling you a little. The walk home will be made worse by the rain soon to fall, ire digging at you for more reasons than one.

Elizabeth… She can make you so happy with one simple look that it turns back to sadness the moment you see the flicker of friendliness in her eyes, never anything more, never anything deeper, not once. What can you say? She’s gorgeous, she’s everyone else's for the taking, whoever she deems rakish enough to take home for the night.

The silence of the night, of your thoughts, is hewn by a sharp siren whizzing past you, so you push your pain away, and sidle back through the doors, shutting the slow drizzle of rain out as you close the door behind you.

Once you return inside, your thoughts slightly more reordered, you see her back at the table, fiddling idly with the hem of her dress, her cheeks tinted a soft red.

“So?”

“I got her number,” she confesses, barely able to bite back a smile, even as her perfect white teeth graze her lower lip. “She gets off shift in an hour.”

You were right, then.

“That’s nice. She’s hot.”

“I know,” she replies dreamily, “and looks exactly like Shay Mitchell, can you believe it? I fancied her so much when Pretty Little Liars first came out.”

“Yeah, I did too.” you admit quietly, clasping your hands around your fresh whiskey.

“You okay? It’s getting late, we can head off now.”

“Nope, absolutely fine. In fact, I think I’ll have another. Tell me something.”

“But we haven’t talked about you all night, I wanna know how your life is going. Love life too.” she protests.

What, your life with the monotonous job and the zero romantic prospects so you spend all your free time sitting at home reading and the nights with your vibrator and Liz in your head? How the hell are you supposed to tell her that.

You simply shrug, and keep a mask of cold, hard resolve in place. “You know my life. I’m interested in yours. Go on.”

So she does. And you do order another whiskey after your first, to the point where you’re verging on the highest restraints of merely tipsy and if you have another you’re heading fast for straight out drunk, which you shan’t do. But you’re merry, and Liz’s words all sound weird, slurred a little from the alcohol, her Australian accent bending to accommodate the vowel sounds she’s making with the occasional slip of a Polish or French word in there. She gets like this when she’s drinking, and it’s one of her most endearing qualities very few are able to see.

“Your voice sounds really weird,” you chuckle, leaning back in your chair, “you’re talkin’ all funny.”

“No I’m not!”

“You are.”

“Am so not!” She’s persistent, she never did back down easy.

You half heartedly shrug, knocking your glasses into one another on the table. You tug your jacket further around you, and purse your lips readying for battle.

“You know, you really should take it as a compliment that I’ve got drunk and I’m making fun of the way you talk.”

She allows her precisely plucked brows to dance over her face in surprise, though quickly schools her features into a plain mask.

“Alright, what’s up?”

“Nothing, Liz. I’m fine.” you say adamantly, and take another swig from your drink, savouring the tang on your tongue. Your glass makes another thud when you slam it down with unplanned and unnecessary force.

“You see, your mouth says that, but your… mouth is telling me something else?”

Before you can help it, your fingers are clutching the edge of the table, your cheeks heating softly, “I haven’t kissed you yet, how can that be?”

A chill slithers down your skin as her eyes grow wide, her pale skin blanching a shade further. “I didn’t mean, um, what? I—” she breaks off with a cough. “I ju— just meant that, um, you’re… sulking.”

“Oh.”

You can’t ignore the way your stomach plummets into the core of the earth, embarrassment taking over every other rational thought within your mind and body. Your soul is already brittle, but this? Your pride has certainly taken a knock enough for you to down the rest of your whiskey in one gulp.

“I’m gonna take off,” you say at last, across the curious blanket of silence, ignoring the way her angular face—limned with hope—falls a fraction.

“Please stay.”

You don’t think you hear her correctly, if at all. For all you know, her words could just be a whisper in the blustering breeze beating outside, the storm you predicted arriving early. In the dim bar, you’re away from it all, sage, until the bartender gets off shift and snatches Liz away for yet another night.

“Beg pardon?”

“Please stay,” she repeats, louder this time, but her blue eyes don’t meet yours across the table. “Tell me what’s up.”

She’s not backing down, so you brace yourself, allowing brazenness to fill you with courage, allowing your alcohol to eddie around you, summoning the words at long last.

“Nothing…” you say at first, because really, it is nothing, but she cocks her head at you that authoritative way. God, she should be a teacher with her assertive glances. “Just that you‘re so gorgeous I can’t say anything to your face…” you snatch her cup across the table, and take a deep swallow before shrugging and casting your gaze outside to spare yourself the mortification of being rejected. “Sober at least.”

You’re met with a beat of silence, “Why?”

“Look at your face!” you shout, utterly exasperated. You’ve got a good mind to pull a compact mirror to remind her how drop-dead stunning she is. “I’m so furious at you for making me feel this way.”

“Why, baby? What way?” she croons.

Too caught up in your momentary lapse of judgement and rant, you fail to notice her edging closer to you, moving your glasses out the way, letting her forearms rest on the sticky table just so she can watch the way you lick your lips with nerves.

“Crazy, because you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts.”

“R—really?” she stammers.

You turn back to her, all thoughts evaporating with her ocean blue eyes looking in yours, driving you insane. Her pretty lips are all parted and awaiting, how much you want to kiss her… So instead, you pout, and begin to throw a strop in your tipsy state.

“Tell me more.”

“No.”

“C’mon,” she teases, a smirk toying at her mouth, giving her cheeks subtle dimples. “Don’t leave me hanging. “Tell me what you really think. How I make you feel. I wanna hear,” her voice drops to a purr, leaning over the table to husk in your ear, “every little thing.”

“Ok then,” you concede. “You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much.”

“I don’t see how,” she snorts, “but continue.”

Her attention never once fails you or turns away, enamoured with your every mere breath.

“You’re gorgeous. Your magnetic field is too strong for me to cope. Your energy draws me in. You’re all I want.”

“More.” she coaxes, a single word, but a whisper, and yet it stokes the embers of desire in the pit of your stomach, your forehead creasing to attempt to draw some concentration back from the depths of your mind where your fantasies about her saying that exact word in that exact breathy way linger.

Perhaps your adulation is excessive, but you don't miss the sparkle in her eyes at each compliment you dole. This is your final card, though, and you’re going to play it right, so you forget about the consequences of touching her hand in a darkness room, and simply intertwine your fingers, drawing your noses to meet over the table.

“You've ruined my life, by not being mine,” you profess, ensuring that your hot breath fans over her lips. You can feel her shudder. “And you know there’s nothing I hate more than what I can’t have.”

“I’m all yours if you’ll have me.”

And just like that, the world stops turning around you. Your heart lilts, your mind prattles on about all you want to say, all you want to do. But then it stops. And all of a sudden, you’re intrepid, desperate to ravish her and ruin her for all other women, eager to kiss her voraciously until you can scarcely breathe, yearning to feel her words of reassurance wrap around you, if only she agrees to your proposal over that of the hot bartender.

“Well, I’ve told you what's up, so I guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats. Alone... unless you wanna come along.”

You push away from the table and stand with a slight shrug, turning your back on her, making strides for the door and the storm bristling outside. Only, you barely make it to the door before Liz’s slender hand is wrapped around your arm, and is turning you back to her, tugging you closer, chest to chest, nose to nose.

“Fuck yes, księżniczka. After that, of course I’m coming.”

Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, a desperate battle of will, and her tongue slides over the seam of your lips. You grant her entry with an open mouth, heat skittering over your skin as she holds you tighter, closer, with a deeper urgency you don’t hesitate to match.

Her crystal eyes simmer as she withdraws, her forehead on yours. Her lips brush yours as she breathes, and she grabs your hand, heading out into the night with Liz, at long last.

“For the record, you’re gorgeous and perfect and drive me crazy too. Everything you said tonight, I echo. What can I say?”

You’re gorgeous.

[aphrodites-law]

My Favorite

Trope: Soulmate marks.

Twist: Lexa doesn’t have one. Clarke does.

4/? - (Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3)

~

Lexa's first week of teaching was as much a learning curve for her as it was for her students. Starting middle school was a big step, and the nerves of some kids were especially noticeable. Lexa managed quite quickly to spot who the quiet ones were and who would give her trouble, and other than a few hiccups, everything had gone according to plan. Teaching the same subject multiple times a day wouldn't always be the most rewarding thing, but she was excited about the highs and the lows ahead.

Friday came quickly. By the time Lexa made it back to her apartment around 4pm, she had already questioned what she should wear a dozen times. She'd even texted Anya, but her friend had been no help, suggesting she forgo clothes entirely. She opted for slim black pants and a blouse in the end, left her hair loose and bought a bottle of wine on the way. Clarke hadn’t given her any hint as to what they would do, or if it was even a date at all, but wine always seemed appropriate.  

When she got to Griffin Hotel, Lexa walked into the foyer and saw Jake reading a magazine behind the counter.

"Hi, Jake."

He looked up and set his magazine aside. "Ah, I figured."

"Pardon?"

"She'll be right down."

Jake tapped the call bell twice and then looked toward the stairs. Lexa noticed a few decorations and strings of lights in boxes on the desk.

"Are you having an event?" She asked.

"Good friends of the family getting married soon," Jake nodded, looking quite proud. "We're throwing a casual get-together in the garden tomorrow."

Footsteps coming down the stairs made Lexa turn her head. She saw Clarke come her way and felt her heart speed up.

Hi, Clarke mouthed.

Lexa felt like a teenager all over again, as if they were on their way to prom rather than on a first… whatever this was. Clarke was wearing a pale yellow dress with a jean jacket over it, and a purse slung over her shoulder.  

"Hi. I… got this. Don't know if it's any good honestly," Lexa said while extending the wine.

Clarke smiled sweetly and signed thank you, which Lexa was thrilled to understand. She'd done her best to keep studying daily since their last encounter, picking up on very basic etiquette thanks to hours of YouTube videos. Clarke turned to her father and set the wine on the counter, signing something that made him shrug.  

"No guarantees any will be left, kiddo."

Clarke rolled her eyes before taking Lexa's arm to make their way outside. Lexa had already noticed with Raven that people didn't sign back to Clarke, instead answering her vocally. Maybe it was just the way Clarke preferred interacting, though Lexa still intended to practice as much as possible. She was a long way from a conversation, and the night ahead would surely present some challenges in terms of communication, but Lexa didn't have a worry in the world about it. Clarke had not let go of her arm since they walked out of the hotel, which meant that, as far as Lexa was concerned, the night was already perfect.

"I'm into the mystery," she said after a while, "but is there any way you'd disclose a general location of where we're going?"

Clarke shook her head with the ghost of a smile on her face.

"Is it a restaurant?"

Clarke squeezed her arm, which Lexa guessed meant- "Am I lukewarm?"

Clarke seemed determined to keep her expression in check.

"A movie?"

At that, Clarke wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah, I'm not really a fan either on first d-" Lexa bit her lip. "Hard to get to know someone that way."

They walked past a small park, where street lamps illuminated the sidewalk lined with trees. With the end of summer was coming the fall of leaves, leaving the ground covered. Lexa had never been around this part of the city before, but she was looking forward to the changing season taking over the city.

“So you were out of town?” she asked Clarke.

Clarke stopped walking and suddenly motioned for Lexa’s phone.

“Oh, sure.” Lexa watched Clarke take her phone and then type something dizzyingly fast. She gave it back to Lexa before grabbing her own and repeating the process. Lexa felt her phone vibrate. She looked down and found a text:

Clarke 🙊

Sorry, it’ll be faster like this than the notepad.

Lexa nodded. “Of course. Whatever you prefer. You can sign too; helps me rewire my brain.”

They started walking down the sidewalk again. Another message appeared: 

I’m an art therapist. Sometimes I go over to Arkadia to my mom’s rehabilitation center.

“That’s amazing,” Lexa said. “What kind of art?”

Clarke signed slowly, which Lexa picked up on thanks to the context. She'd found that context was key in understanding most phrases, as there were sometimes fewer nuances in vocabulary than spoken language. She understood ‘painting’, ‘drawing’, and ‘sculpting’, though the rest seemed to be a lost cause no matter how slow Clarke signed it.

“Oh, I know, you set bowling balls on fire,” Lexa guessed.

Clarke laughed, then texted again: HOW did you get that?

“You don't have to deny it; that was a very obvious fireball sign, Clarke."

Clarke shook her head with amusement, eyes watering a bit. Lexa couldn’t stop smiling. "Your secret's safe with me."

Slowly, they made their way toward a more active part of the city, where the nightlife seemed to come alive. There were packed bars and restaurants, people coming in and out of movie theaters, and large groups chatting on sidewalks. They took a turn on a narrower street, where Clarke stopped by a heavy door and pounded her fist against it. The door was so thick that it barely made any noise at all. What kind of place could be tucked away and looking like the entrance to an abandoned warehouse?

They waited just a moment before a tall man with a shaved head opened the door.

“Hey, Clarke. Long time no see!”

They hugged before the man stepped aside to let them in. Once inside, it was like they had entered a bubble. Singing and music could be heard from the room over.

Lexa extended her hand to the man. “Hi. I'm Lexa.”

“Lincoln,” he answered with a firm grip. “You teach at Polis MH, right?”

Lexa glanced at Clarke. “Yes, how do you-“

“Oh I think you’ll find it’s a pretty small city. My wife is a substitute there. Come on in!”

Once past the narrow corridor, they were led into a room that looked like an underground bar. Lexa had never seen a place like it. It seemed like a speakeasy that had stood the test of time, now refurbished but still with a distinctive look that gave it an old-fashioned appeal. Where Raven's coffee shop was all geared toward science and the future, this bar was firmly rooted in the past. Most of the patrons were gathered by a makeshift stage, where a woman with a smoky voice sang indie tunes backed by her band.

Clarke looked at Lexa intently, eager for her reaction.

"Wow. I would’ve never found this place in a million years."

Clarke took her arm with a grin, leading her to the bar. The bartender, a short and robust woman with cropped hair, immediately signed at her. Clarke made a two sign before turning to Lexa, who had no clue what had just been ordered but reached for her wallet regardless.

"I'll take hers," she started to offer, but felt a hand cover her wrist. Clarke shook her head at her.

"I asked you out, it's only fair."

Clarke pointed to the ceiling.

"I know you chose the place but that won't change my mind."

Clarke huffed. Lexa looked around and then brightened when she saw an empty pool table in the back.

“Do you play?” She asked.

Clarke shrugged. Lexa took Clarke's hand and led her to the table.

“Alright, how about this...” Lexa trailed off, overly confident in her pool skills. “Whoever wins a game of eight-ball gets to cover the tab.”

Clarke arched a brow and mouthed Deal. She grabbed a cue stick and took the rack off the table, then leaned down with her cue in place. Her tongue peeked out just a hint as she focused and then took a powerful shot, knocking three balls in the pockets.

Oohs erupted around them as Lexa’s mouth fell open. Clarke stood up and stared straight at her from across the table, pretending to blow on the cue like it was a smoking gun before she actually winked.

“Fuck me.”

~

The night went by quickly, so quickly that when Lexa saw that it was well after midnight, her heart clenched in disappointment. They'd played a few more games of pool, all of which Lexa had badly lost, and then went on to try some of the cocktails on the list. They'd listened to the songs - where Lexa had fought against the urge to invite Clarke to dance, thinking maybe it was too soon - tried a game of darts, and then eventually had left to get some fresh air.

In the most casual way, Clarke had slipped her hand in Lexa's while they walked down the longest street in the city. It was thrumming with life and excitement; neon colors in places and soft glows in others. Clarke pointed things out that Lexa missed, like the murals on the sides of buildings or the food trucks she liked. Lexa bought two gelatos while Clarke quickly chatted with friends they'd bumped into, smiling cheekily when Clarke narrowed her eyes at her.  

"We said cover the bar tab, not cover the entire night…" she'd justified.  

When they made it back to the front of the hotel, Lexa couldn't believe their night was already over. Clarke let go of her hand and leaned against a part of the brick wall. Lexa took a deep breath.

"Tonight was incredible," she said softly. "Thank you for showing me around. And crushing me at pool - it was a needed wake-up call."

Clarke grinned. Lexa didn't want to see things that perhaps weren’t there, but Clarke… looked at her in a way that made it hard to ignore the flutter in her chest. Trying to stall, she glanced toward the door and noticed a wooden sign propped up by it, with Echo & Bellamy carved in it.

"Echo and Bellamy… are they the ones who took six years to date?"

Clarke nodded. She seemed to get an idea then and typed a message:

You should come to the party we’re throwing them tomorrow. Starts at 5pm; it'll be fun.

Lexa felt mild panic, thinking maybe Clarke felt the need to invite her because she'd brought it up.

"Oh, I wouldn't- I'm sure it's friends and relatives only…"

Clarke bit her lip, perhaps just as aware this was moving fast. Inviting someone to friends' engagement party wasn't without its own implications. She signed something slowly, which Lexa guessed the meaning of.

"I'll think about it," she agreed.

Clarke seemed relieved. Her eyes flickered down to Lexa's lips before she caught herself and quickly signed something, easy enough for Lexa to understand.

"Goodnight, Clarke," she answered before watching her go.

~

In the end, there was very little to think about. Lexa had slept the best she'd had in weeks, on cloud nine after her night with Clarke. She couldn’t explain why she felt such a need to see her again, like time was wasted without her.  She had picked out her best summer dress and stopped second-guessing herself. 

On her way to the hotel, she picked out flowers, figuring that if it was clearly too much, she could always play them off as a last-minute gift to the bride-to-be. She walked inside and stopped by the desk, but the foyer was empty. Lexa figured she should text Clarke first.

She’d pulled up their conversation when she glanced at the desk and did a sudden double-take. 

A photo of Clarke tucked between the computer and a stack of papers caught her eye. She was wearing a graduation gown and standing next to her father with a wide smile. But the sleeve of her gown was pulled down, showing off an unmistakable mark. 

Lexa’s heart sank in her stomach. 

It was minuscule, just four words from what she could see, but so faded they were illegible. Anyone would miss them at a glance, but wrist tattoos were illegal for the Markless, and as such Lexa knew it couldn't be anything else.

Clarke had a soulmate. 

It was all it took to crush Lexa’s hopes. She looked away from the photo and tried to calm her breathing. But why was she so surprised? Of course Clarke would have a mark. Of course she was destined to happiness that someone like Lexa wouldn't be able to provide.

Lexa had thought that settling wouldn’t be as bad as they said if it was with someone like Clarke. She was creative, kind, confident and unbelievably patient - and they'd made each other laugh. What else did anyone need in a partner? Lexa had thought she’d felt a connection, but the ending was always the same: dreams turned into dust. There it was - the mark that made it clear she would just be a layover again. That Clarke would entertain her until she met her soulmate and Lexa became an obstacle to walk around.

But Lexa couldn't go through that pain again. This time she knew it would be too much to bear if she allowed Clarke to hold her heart in her hands. She couldn't do it. Wishing for the best when the best didn't happen to people like her… was self-destruction.

Clarke would get over it. She was with her friends, she'd be fine. Maybe tonight she'd even bump into someone else and they'd utter the words that would change everything for her.

Feeling herself tremble, Lexa set the flowers on the front desk before she darted outside. She swallowed back the lump in her throat and wiped a quick hand over her watery eyes. These feelings that had grown - she would nip them in the bud, and swiftly.

~

At the peak of the celebration, while families and friends were still enjoying the food and drinks, Clarke found herself wandering between the garden and the front of the hotel. She looked down at her watch and then around again, disappointed that there was still no sign of Lexa.

She found a discarded bouquet of flowers at the front desk and picked it up to put it in water, wondering who could've gotten such nice flowers only to forget them. Later, in the garden, she sat on one of the benches and watched Echo and Bellamy slow-dancing, clearly not bothered by Echo's round belly between them. Clarke's smile slowly fell as she noticed just how many pairs had gotten up to dance as well. She ran her hands down her dress and looked toward the cobbled path, sighing when no one appeared.

Perhaps something had come up at the last minute. Or she'd been too hasty. She looked down at her mark and rubbed her finger over it, frowning when she noticed something.

She lifted her wrist up closer, thinking it was a trick of light, but there was no mistaking it: her mark had faded more.

-

Part 5

[bicon-korra]

Entrapta Week: Free Day

Beast Island Log: Property of Entrapta

Summary: Entrapta logs her daily life on Beast Island and starts to uncover a mystery…

[Written for Entrapta Week - Day 7 (Free Day), 1,700 words, notes in tags]

Beast Island Log: Day 1, Entry 1

My name is Entrapta of Dryl. I was banished from the Horde to Beast Island on Force Captain Catra’s command. Before leaving the Horde, I managed to sneak one of my precious voice recorders with me. I may be a prisoner, but I’m still a scientist, after all! 

When I first heard tales of Beast Island, I imagined this mythical land inhabited by savage creatures. No one, and I mean no one, told me what a treasure trove of First One’s tech this is! The possibilities for transport, shelter, food gathering, you name it, are endless! I don’t know how anyone can dispose of such beautiful equipment! One man’s trash is another’s treasure, I suppose. I just need to figure out how to clean up their data. It looks like most, if not all, the files are corrupted. Should be simple enough.

Beast Island Log: Day 1, Entry 2

I suppose I should introduce myself. I am a princess of Dryl, where I was born and spent most of my life. In a strange turn of events, I joined the Princess Alliance led by Princess Glimmer of Bright Moon and her co-leader Adora-slash-She-Ra. I was left behind in the Fright Zone on a dangerous mission, and that became my new home. The name sounds scary—kind of like Beast Island—but it’s not as bad as it sounds! I was actually pretty happy there. I had friends: Scorpia, Hordak, my dear Emily...Catra was my friend, too. And then she wasn’t. I try not to dwell on it too much. I’m trying to stay positive. These technological monstrosities are my friends now.

Beast Island Log: Day 2, Entry 1

Today, I will try to determine what’s food and what’s not food. I’ve been studying the eating patterns of the creatures that most resemble mammals, if you can call a four-eyed winged primate-looking-thing a mammal. They mainly thrive off of a spiky fruit that grows inside the trees. There’s another creature with razor-sharp claws that digs the fruit out of the trunk to grab them. It only grabs what it needs to and the rest fall to the ground for other creatures to eat. Fascinating.

Beast Island Log: Day 2, Entry 2

I extracted the juice from the fruit. If it was poisonous, I figured my forest-dwelling friends wouldn’t have survived this long. Boy, was it tough to peel! I’m going to name it scorpion fruit because of the stinger-shaped spikes on its skin. Earlier I put a drop on my wrist to test for an allergic reaction. There was no reaction, so then I put a drop on my tongue and waited for one hour. So far I feel fine. It didn’t taste bitter either. I’m going to try two drops next time, then three. 

Beast Island Log: Day 2, Entry 3

My three-drop feast of scorpion fruit has made my stomach just as ravenous as some of these creatures. I’m going to take a small bite now and wait thirty minutes. I drank enough water (thank the First Ones there’s fresh water here!) to purge if I need to. There may be food yet!

Beast Island Log: Day 2, Entry 4

I’m on my second scorpion fruit and nothing has tasted better.

Beast Island Log: Day 3, Entry 1

I managed to scrape some parts together to make a small radio. Problem is, I can’t find the right wires to make my antenna. The bigger problem is these corrupted files. To fix them, I’ll need to charge these machines and most of them are hanging by a thread. Still, they’ve managed to stay alive this long, poor things.

Beast Island Log: Day 3, Entry 2

I discovered another edible root. It’s very tough and stringy, but I found boiling it made it more edible and savory in general. I miss dessert, especially tiny ones.

Beast Island Log: Day 3, Entry 3

Day three on Beast Island, and I’m in a strange state of peace. Of course I miss my friends and my lab. But here? Here I have the opportunity to learn an entirely new skillset. A wilderness explorer, imagine that! Hordak always said that my optimism was somewhat unnatural, but I never knew what he meant until now. I probably have Scorpia to thank for that. She’s the most positive person I know. If only she could see me now. Friends, if you’re listening, I’m going to be okay! Everything will be okay.

Beast Island Log: Day 4, Entry 1

I ventured deeper into the forest to find food that isn’t berries and roots. It’s hard to describe, but I felt a slight vibration coming from the ground. If I close my eyes and listen, it’s almost as if there’s a humming sound all around. Perhaps the area is magnetized? I want to go further in, but I don’t think my forest friends would like that.

Beast Island Log: Day 4, Entry 2

As I suspected, some of these creatures are not very friendly! I came across a small nest near the foot of a tree. I wonder if it fell from the branches. It had small blue eggs with red speckles, similar to bird eggs. I was tempted to hold one, just to get a sense of its weight, until I saw what I presume was its mother. As expected, she saw me as a threat and flew towards me, squawking like mad. I managed to run fast enough into the bushes where she couldn’t reach me. I realized that my body does not handle cardio well. Exercise is not my forte, but I’ll have to add that to my list of survival skills. I’m famished now, so until next time!

Beast Island Log: Day 5, Entry 1

I made a new friend today! As in, actually made one. Her name is Tiny Emily. She’s a cute little thing, the size of my fist. She rolls around while I’m sleeping and alarms if she senses any creatures that come close. These woods can get scary at night, so now I have a protector. 

Beast Island Log: Day 6, Entry 1

Today Tiny Emily and I explored one of the marshes just outside the giant scorpion fruit tree. There was some sort of hut, mostly branches and leaves, that something had made. I need to do more exploring.

Day 6, Entry 2

There is definitely a buzzing sound coming from the island’s center. I know because Tiny Emily and I have been marking the perimeter and listening very closely. I wish I had equipment that could help detect the sound wave patterns. I could make one; I just need the right parts and the power. Well, that’s why I have ears! Sometimes you don’t need fancy tech. Sometimes.

Beast Island Log: Day 6, Entry 3

Today was our first rainy day. The first thing we did was take cover under the husk of an old battle tank. I’ve learned to treat every element as potentially dangerous. We determined that the rainwater is safe, so we’re safe. The battle tank was also a fortuitous find. It helps block out water and wind and offers protection from predators.

Day 6, yes 6. Entry 3? 4?

Remember when I said the battle tank was safe? Well, I’m afraid I spoke too soon. The metal is very rusty and corroded and a piece of it fell when the storm outside picked up. We’ll have to seek shelter elsewhere since these machines aren’t structurally sound. Perhaps the hut we found? It looked sturdy enough. I’m very nervous to leave the junkyard in favor of the forest. I find that I don’t do well with bugs and mud. Oh well! There’s always danger in exploration.

Beast Island Log: Day 7

We had a close call today. Tiny Emily rolled down a hill and nearly fell into the river! Though we did make another important discovery. We found a spear near the water. The dexterity and attention to detail needed to craft such a tool...Could we still be dealing with some sort of animal? If something could make this weapon, I’m not sure I want to find out.

Day 7, Entry 2

We found another spear. The pointy end was charred, like it was used to cook food. We found a nest of grub nearby, so perhaps that’s why. We’re not talking about an animal anymore, not even close. 

Day 8

I’m not alone on this island.

Beast Island Log: Day 8. 9? Entry 1

We circled the areas where we found the hut and the spears and found an abandoned campfire. No traces of footprints. I would normally never say this, being a practical scientist, but it’s as if we’re tracking a ghost.

Day 10

It has been ten days on Beast Island. I know I just got here, but something inside me is itching to explore the forest, as if it has all the answers I need. I won’t lie. I am frightened. Tiny Emily has been chirping away these past two nights. This might actually be the first night where I feel far away from home. 

Beast Island Log: Day 30, I think. Entry 1

I’m afraid I’ve been a very bad scientist. This is the longest break I’ve taken from creating my logs, probably ever! Whoever made the hut and the spear is nowhere to be found. Me and Tiny Emily have searched everywhere. I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with finding them. Maybe it’s someone like me who was sent here. Maybe they came here on their own. To explore. Or to escape. I’ve thought of every possible scenario as to why this person would want to be on this island and I cannot find a single reasonable answer. I don’t know if people were truly made to be alone. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe that’s my problem...

I’m going to keep exploring. I’m going to find whatever is out there and share with them what I know about how to survive on this island. And maybe, together, things will be okay. It’s dinnertime. Signing off.

[WARNING: LOW BATTERY!!]

[xaphrin]

I Don’t Know Myself

1/50 - RaeX

Raven pitched forward, barely resting on the edge of his sofa as she surveyed the board. She really hated when they got to the end of a game and she was trailing behind by four points. How in the world was she always so close to winning, and yet every time she lost, Setting her jaw, she shoved two of her letters in between two vertical words. Jason took a long drink of his beer and lifted his eyes to meet her own, a grin pulling at the barest edges of his mouth. She knew that particular beer made his lips taste like caramel, even though she had yet to test this theory.

If she could just win this game then maybe tonight would be the night he gave into her.   

“Sore?” He let go of a low whistle and added the points up. His expression was soft, almost playful. “Mm… you’re now ahead of me by one point. Remember if you win, you get to take one thing from me.”

Raven knew exactly what she wanted, if only so she could silence that damnable curiosity inside her brain that was practically consuming her sanity at this point. It had been a months-long running game between them, whoever won the match could ask one thing of the other person. So far Jason had managed to win every game, and the only thing he asked was for her to come back over and play another match.

But tonight, she promised herself she would win. She was just a few points away, if she should just hold out for a few more turns.

Jason three of his letters on the board and grinned. “Kiss.”

Her jaw ticked as she glared at the triple word score spot that should have been hers. Jason added up his points on the tab and met her stare once more before taking another drink of his beer. “I’m winning.”

“I’m out.” Raven sighed and leaned back into the sofa, her stomach knotting up. It wasn’t even the losing part so much as it was that he was taunting her about it. It was that she wasn’t even secretive about she wanted, that she had asked him several times what this was between them, and each time his answer was vague and hedging. She felt like she was chasing him, and each step they got closer to friendship was one step away from exploring a different path. “I’m not going to beat your score, Jason.” She started picking up the wooden tiles and tucking them away in the little velvet bag. “Same time next week?”

“I’ve got a mark.” He leaned back on his elbows and watched her for a while. Raven tried not to think about what his mark was, and pretended she didn’t hear him. Another wave of silence slid between them before Jason spoke again, this time his voice soft. “I was thinking maybe of asking for something different this time.”

Raven’s eyes flicked up from where she dropped the Q on the floor, the little bubble of annoyance rising into her throat. “Like shoots and ladders?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Ah… actually I was thinking more like this?” His index finger pointed to the last word he put on the board. Kiss.

Raven swallowed, her nostrils flaring as she watched him. She tucked her hair behind her ear and swiped the word away. He was teasing her, he had to be. Jason hadn’t allowed either of them to get too close, always stepping back if he inched just one toe over that friendship line, and pushing her away when she said something silly like I want to stay the night or kiss me. Their boundaries were confusing and changing, and Raven wasn’t even sure if she could trust him when he said something like that. “I didn’t think you were interested in doing that. At least not with me.”

“Look… you gave me the space and time I needed to… figure this out. All of this. What I am and… well, look being rebirthed out of death is frustrating and hard and I’m a little confused-”

Raven snorted and finished putting the letters away before packing up the board.

“-and I know I haven’t exactly been the best boyfriend.”

Her hands stilled and she turned to look at him, lips twitching. That word fell from his mouth so easily that she was wondering if she really heard him correctly. It hung in the hair, weighing the moment down until nothing but silence filled the space between them, and Raven was trying to swallow enough air to keep herself pulled together. Slowly, carefully, she swallowed and set the board back in the ragged box held together by packaging tape. “Are we… are we dating?”

He looked just as shocked as her at the question. “Are we… not?”

“You never let me kiss you?” Raven’s hands were shaking and she slammed them into her jacket pockets just so Jason wouldn’t see how much his words affected her. How in the world could they be dating and she not even know? “You never let me stay over? You’ve never… you didn’t even tell me when I asked?”

He looked panicked for a moment, as if he was still processing her words in the back of his mind. “I thought… I thought you were trying to trick me? Oh my god.” His hand ran over his face and he pitched forward, a ragged bark of laughter escaping. “You and I are dating and neither of us knew about it.”

She swallowed, trying to keep her mind pulled together enough to not feel like she was freefalling. All she could focus on were the late-night texts and phone calls - the little updates to his life that seemed soft and benign. He talked to her nearly every night, sent early-morning selfies with his hair all messy and using stupid flower crown filters. When he talked to her, he would always skirt around words and never say what was really on his mind, but Raven never pressed him beyond that. Jason was broken, and he needed to be handled with the kind of care he deserved - the kind of care that helped him heal.

“I thought… I thought you were giving us both space. I mean… after I told you about The Pit, I thought that maybe you were just trying to adjust to the fact that I was technically dead. And that… you were trying to give me space to heal. We’re not exactly all there.” He looked at her between his fingers before laughing again. “Oh my god, Raven… I feel like an idiot.”

“No, no… I…” She swallowed again and shook her head. “I thought you weren’t interested in me? I wasn’t exactly subtle about my feelings for you.”

She was trying so hard to keep her emotions under control, but she could still feel her magic start to spark at her fingertips. Little bolts of black flicked out and snapped the offending Q that was nearly forgotten on the floor. Glancing up, she saw Jason crawling to his feet, looking like he was about to break out into peals of helpless laughter. Tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes and he shook his head.

“Oh my god, Raven. I… how in the world can you think that I wouldn’t be interested in you? Who else would I let into my house? Who else would I send selfies to? And call to tell you where I am - even if I’m on a mark?” He leaned over the coffee table and let his hand rest against her knees, tilting his head up to meet her stare.

He was so close, closer than he had ever allowed himself to be before, and Raven wasn’t sure if the world around her was real anymore It felt like everything was fuzzy, vibrating at a pace she couldn’t recognize. She could smell the caramel clinging to his breath and the darkness that creeped into the corners of his eyes. Her heart jumped into her throat and beat out a strange, erratic rhythm.

Jason’s hand spanned the column of her neck, fingers curling into her hair as he leaned up. His lips brushed against her own - a ghost of a kiss that spoke of all the secrets that were pinned into hiding places in his heart. Raven swallowed and closed her eyes, leaning closer to him.

“I love you.”

His kisses really did taste of caramel.