#like what would i do without google maps for starters

[catboyllawliet]

i wish smartphones had never been invented for realsies. the things i would do if i wasn’t straight up addicted..

[joonary]

maybe so (i.) | myg

↳ summary: when yoongi asks you on one fake date to save him from family embarrassment, he really isn’t expecting you to say yes. or to the next one. or to come with him on the goddamn trip back home for spring break. either you’re a really good liar, or maybe, just maybe this was growing to become more than what it was.

alternatively: how do you fake date someone you’re already in love with without being obvious about how you feel?

↳ genre: fluff; humor; fake dating au; min yoongi x reader

↳ rating: pg-13

↳ warnings: light alcohol consumption; mention of food poisoning; petty family drama (and resounding self-deprecation and spite); i’m pretty sure that’s it for this chapter

↳ word count: 13k

↳ a/n: this fic may have been giving me brain damage for three weeks straight, but it’s my baby so that’s okay. this is quite possibly the most self-indulgent thing that i’ve ever written but enjoy! if you’re looking for music to listen to accompanying this fic, i highly recommend the entirety of niki’s wanna take this downtown ep, as it inspired various aspects of this fic! stay safe and wash your hands!!!!

↳ PART ONE | PART TWO (finale)

If Yoongi’s current reality were categorized into a film genre on Netflix, it would most definitely be a drama. One of those overly-exaggerated, cheesy Korean dramas that his younger sister was terminally addicted to watching, sans the whirlwind romance that makes all of the tribulations worth it.

 For starters, Min Yoongi is running late to his own impromptu family birthday dinner, which definitely was not even his fault. He did not have control over the impulsivity of his headass of a roommate, Park Jimin, and he definitely didn’t anticipate that aforementioned headass would impulse dye his hair hot pink and subsequently clog the only bathroom sink in their shared apartment from further use. How he managed to do that was a mystery for another day.

 Yoongi did, however, have control over the accidental twenty-minutes-turned-

three-hour-long nap he took. It happened like this: he got back to the apartment after class around 10AM, then received a text from Jimin forewarning him that a plumber was coming at 11 to fix the sink. After that ordeal was finished, Yoongi flopped down on the couch and decided to take a quick nap under the warrant that he deserved it for having to deal with Park fucking Jimin every single day of the week. Also because he drank a little too much at dinner with Jungkook and Hoseok last night and was awarded with a headache in the morning as a shitty consolation trophy, but that detail wasn't important. 

 The only thing remotely important right now was Yoongi’s untied left shoe that was holding onto his foot for dear life as he sprints down the entrance stairway into the web of the metro system. He’s certain he looks downright comedical with the way he hurriedly scans his card and busts ass to get to the train platform. Perhaps if he were an anime character, he’d have those white dashes around him to denote that he was moving at a near-inhuman speed. 

 The train shouldn’t take more than twenty-five minutes to get to Koreatown despite it being on the other side of the city, but then again, Yoongi should know better than to think that luck was ever in his favor. There was a delay, for God knows what reason, that fills Yoongi with dread from where he stands with his hand hooked around the railing as the notification passes through the intercom.

 Was it straight two blocks then make a left? Or was it left two blocks then a right turn? God, he  really should have at least looked it up on Google Maps during the train ride—it would have at least lessened his rapidly increasing stupidity stats, albeit by a fractional amount. He stopped to ask a girl for directions, and even though she gave him the easiest route to the kbbq restaurant in question, she scanned his disheveled state with a look of mild confusion and maybe a hint of concern. Oh well. It’s not like he was going to be seeing her around any time soon.

 When Yoongi gets to the front of the restaurant, he knows he’s in the right place, not just because of the gigantic sign that says HOME KBBQ across it in fluorescent blue lighting, but because of the familiar head of brown hair that belonged to none other than his lanky dork of a younger brother. Namjoon hasn’t yet noticed his brother’s arrival, much less acknowledged it, far too occupied in the contents of his phone screen. 

 Yoongi’s manic wheezing seems to have finally caught the younger boy’s attention, causing his gaze to snap away from the screen and a wide dimpled grin to spread across his face. “Hyung! Happy late birthday!” 

 Yoongi’s still too busy trying to catch his breath, resting his hands on his knees like the heathen he is, no matter how many people tell him specifically not to do so when out of breath. “Thanks. Is Mom mad I’m late?”

 The grin on Namjoon’s face doesn’t falter. “Oh, everyone’s pissed. That’s why they made me wait out here for you haha. But it’s okay because you’re here now! Wipe the drool off the corner of your mouth though.” He slaps Yoongi’s shoulder in the annoying-younger-sibling-way before walking past him to hold open the door.

 “After you, birthday boy.”

 “Shut the hell up.”

“Look who decided to show up,” his mother says with an exaggerated sigh as Yoongi appears, Namjoon following immediately behind. He’s guilty, definitely, but getting called out immediately doesn’t exactly make him feel any better about it. 

 A “nice to see you” or “wow! I haven’t seen you since winter break nearly three months ago!” would have sufficed, perhaps even a belated birthday wish like Namjoon, he thinks to himself, but who was he kidding, this was his family he was dealing with. No such thing as civil salutations existed as far as the Mins were concerned. 

 “Sorry,” he mumbles, to which he gets no response. The rest of the table’s greetings all ring in that same tone of general disappointment and agitation, despite the “Happy Birthdays” that are said monotonously by each family member as he goes around the table to greet them. (Except for his cousin Seokjin, who actually stands up and gives him a pseudo-bro hug and a tacky Hallmark birthday card.)

 There’s a grand total of nine people at the table: from the seats on Yoongi’s left all the way around to his right sits Ryujin, Seokjin and his girlfriend, his father, Namjoon, his grandmother, his maternal aunt and uncle (otherwise known as Seokjin’s parents), and his mother. And with himself makes ten. The tables at this restaurant are homey to the point where it’s suffocating, everyone’s elbows practically touching one another’s.

 Regardless, everyone resumes eating, the conversation stirring up once again when Ryujin mentions how much she absolutely despises her AP Microeconomics teacher and everyone in the class. “That’s life,” their aunt speaks, warning tone in her voice. “You can’t expect to learn in an environment that you enjoy being in. That’s how you get lazy.” Yoongi disagrees silently.

 Here’s the thing: Yoongi was never very fond of his aunt Kim Eunjung, and quite frankly, the feeling was not one-sided. She thought that Yoongi was too stubborn and indecisive to ever amount to any form of success in his life. Yoongi thought she was sickeningly traditional to the point where she was practically breathing down the necks of the entire second generation of the family (there’s a reason why Seokjin is the way he is, unfortunately). It was like a symbiotic relationship of general disdain masked by familial politeness.

 Apparently she could fucking read minds too, because the second Yoongi’s disdainful thoughts formulate in his head, she’s already looking at him with a direct attack ready. Yoongi acts indifferent to what he knows is about to come, taking a sip of his water through the provided paper straw.

 “What about you? You’re so skinny, Yoongi,” she points out with a wrinkle of her nose, sounding more annoyed than genuinely concerned about his health. “Do you even eat anything?”

 “Yoongi, I’ve been telling you to stop skipping meals,” his mom points out, disappointment ringing through the way her metal chopsticks clang against her rice bowl. “We don’t pay for your dorm and meal plan for you to only eat one bowl of cereal every three days. That doesn’t count as eating.” Will his parents ever let him live down the fact that there’s an agreement between them and him for them to pay for his tuition? No. Never.

 “I eat,” he replies earnestly, but nobody’s fooled. He can’t say that either of them are wrong on this argument. The last thing he recalls eating was a granola bar that Jimin had tons of stashed in their shared room. And that was, like, at four in the morning yesterday.

 His dad lets out a heavy guffaw from across the table, patting Namjoon on the shoulder in a manner that makes the boy almost choke on his samgyeopsal. “Keep that up and you’ll never get a girlfriend. Isn’t that the new thing? Aren’t girls into the ‘swole’ guys these days, huh Ryujinnie?” he adds, turning to Yoongi’s sister.

 “Dad, please never say the word ‘swole’ ever again.”

 Eunjung looks amused as well, but if the quirk in her brow was any indication, it’s not because she thinks that her brother-in-law’s attempts to use millennial terminology is amusing. Oh no, this was much worse.

 “Our Yoongi? With a girlfriend? It’s hard to believe that’s even possible considering how he is. Especially with his hair dyed that horrible red color.” Eunjung’s words are just backhanded enough not to be rude—perhaps even enough so to be played off as a joke, yet the implication of them holds such malice that it hurts a Yoongi’s pride a little. 

 You see, there’s an uncanny valley that sits right between “Yoongi disagreeing with his family members because they’re wrong and their viewpoint is scalding and narrow-minded” and “Yoongi disagreeing with his family members because he’s young, dumb, and needs to be taught a life lesson out of this”.

 Yoongi doesn’t know where he is on that spectrum at all right now, but quite frankly he doesn’t care right now. As the saying goes: pride comes before the fall.

 “Actually, I do.” Wait, what?

 Yoongi has absolutely no idea where that came from. He was never a compulsive liar, save for when playing Uno with his friends, but still, he’s never told a lie of this caliber before. In front of half his family, no less. Even though it’s a solid lie, he can’t help but feel triumphed by the shock that falls across the table. It doesn’t last long, questions beginning to roll in.

 “What?”

 “Where’d you meet her?”

 “No way!” (That one comes from Ryujin, to absolutely nobody’s surprise.)

 But Eunjung’s question is the only one that Yoongi chooses to answer. “How long have you had this girlfriend of yours?”

 “Five months.” There’s no rhyme or reason to his answer—it was legitimately the first number to come to mind.

 Eunjung laughs exaggeratedly, head thrown back and eyes wiping away faux-tears, as if this new finding wasn’t believable in any way, shape, or form. The sheer condescension makes Yoongi’s blood boil, despite the fact that, you know, she was right. “So what you’re saying is that you’ve been in a serious relationship for almost half a year and you just decided not to tell anyone?”

 “Yes,” he answers, refusing to break eye contact.

 “And why is that, hm?” she pries, and Yoongi tells himself that she’s only being especially pretentious tonight because she’s beyond drunk. It’s the only thing conclusion he can conjure up to prevent himself from saying anything so disrespectful that he’d get disowned by the entirety of his family, cursed for the next four decades, and not to mention, dishonor on his cow.

 “I just… didn’t wanna jinx it. I didn’t want to bring her around everyone too soon in case things went south and it became awkward for all of us,” he explains, a little scared of how easily the lie comes out of his mouth. The grave he’s digging himself only gets deeper, but Yoongi feels like his hands are glued to the shovel at this point.

 Eunjung looks surprisingly satisfied with his answer, but there’s no way she wouldn’t be able to find something to interject, something else about him that she could nit-pick at. That’s just not her. Her mouth quirks up at the corner, as if Yoongi has just read her mind. “When are we going to meet her?”

 However, she doesn’t get the chance to hear the boy’s answer, as Yoongi’s mother finally deems it time to put an end to the interrogation she had just witnessed her eldest son go through. “Unnie, I haven’t even heard about this girl before. We need more time to just let this sink in. Besides, it’s getting late, and we both know we all have a long way home from here.” Despite just saving Yoongi’s ass from the impending trial, his mother shoots him a small glare in reference to his late attendance despite being geographically closest to the damn restaurant in the first place. That’s motherly love for you.

 After a ten minute debacle starting and ending with Seokjin insisting that he picks up the tab, everyone finally leaves the restaurant—and the conversation—behind.

 Waving off his relatives goodbye, the only ones left congregating outside the restaurant alongside Yoongi are his siblings and his parents.

 Yoongi walks them to their car, where the SUV sits parked aside a meter that’s already run past its two-hour time by forty minutes. Had the dinner really gone on for that long?

  “Hyung, don’t leave yet,” Namjoon says, holding up his hands as if he were a crossing guard as a preventative measure in case his brother decided to just take off. “I got you a birthday present.” He tugs at the door the instant his dad unlocks it with the telltale click and flash of lights inside. It’s not like Yoongi could just scram anyways, despite the fact that it seemed incredibly appealing with the way this evening went.

 So he watches as Namjoon fumbles and nearly hits him in the face with the door, pulling out a small and poorly-wrapped box that’s no bigger than the size of his palm. Yoongi can only imagine the laugh that the younger boy had with himself whilst wrapping such a small box as neatly as he could muster.

 Ryujin rounds the back of the car, plopping a significantly larger (and much, much better wrapped) box into his arms as well. “You don’t have to open them right now,” she declares, and Yoongi isn’t sure if it’s for his benefit or her’s. She probably has hours of AP homework waiting for her on top of the hour and a half car ride home.

 “Thank you,” he replies as he tugs them both into a stiff hug. Being genuinely affectionate towards his siblings will never not be awkward for him to do. Does he love them? Sure. But can he say it out loud, or express it in any way that wasn’t him just silently caring for them or downright insulting them? Absolutely not. And it wasn’t one of those I’m-edgy-and-hate-letting-people-know-I-care sort of things. That just wasn’t how having siblings worked.

 He hugs his parents goodbye before they too get into the car, with yet another thank you for dinner and a promise that he’ll make time to visit soon. And that’s the end of the wildest birthday dinner I’ve ever had in my twenty-two years of life, he thinks to himself, more in disbelief than with mirth as he begins to turn to leave in the direction of the metro station.

 “Yoongi.” He stops and turns back slowly, like the voice of his mother would stab straight through him if he made any sudden moves. “Yes?”

 Window rolled down, the head of black hair belonging to his mother juts out enough for her to lean forward and speak to him. “Your girlfriend. When were you planning on telling us?”

 “Oh,” he says with a swallow. It wasn’t over yet. 

 It takes him a little longer to think of a response, now that this is when his words will actually count and error will not get lost in the initial shock. He contemplates what his reasoning would be had this been real and not just a spite-fueled fabrication. 

 (He also contemplates coming clean, but decides against it simply because of how embarrassing and downright pathetic it would sound coming out of his mouth, not to mention the fact that he did so just to get everyone off his back about it. Yoongi’s pride > integrity—apparently that was the moral of tonight’s story.)

 “I swear, I was going to tell you guys soon. But we both agreed that winter break might’ve been a little bit too soon for her to meet you, and same with me for her family. And then the beginning of this semester has just been really rough on both of us; in fact, we’ve barely spent any time together at all. And I don’t know, I thought maybe we were starting to lose interest in each other or something.”

 It’s a very plausible sob story—despite Yoongi’s distaste for forcing sympathy—and although his mother generally hates it when he complains about how “difficult” his life is as the average middle-class student at a decent university, she accepts it. Thank every unknown deity out there that she does, because Yoongi doesn’t think he could pull any more false information out of his ass for the rest of his life.

 “But do you still want to be with her?”

 “Yeah,” he sighs, and if any of his friends were here right now, they’d probably burst out laughing at the fact that there literally is no “her” and this entire thing is just on-the-spot bullshit that he’s spouting out like a water fountain. The thought makes Yoongi kind of want to die of embarrassment. “I do.”

 Now that he thinks of it, this is actually perfect. You know, since all he had to do now was make up a break-up story in a couple weeks and the whole thing will blow over. Sure, he’ll have to face the scrutiny of fucking up his “relationship” for a while, but—

 “So we should meet her then.” What.

 “What?”

 His mom is unaware of the panic in his eyes, the flush in his face looking more like a side effect of the cold and the pure unadulterated fear in his eyes masked by the dim street lights above him. 

 “Meet her,” she replies, like it’s that simple. Well, it is, when you have an actual girlfriend to make these plans with. “Next Wednesday night your father and I don’t have anything planned. If you’re both trying to make things work, the only thing you can do is take the next step.”

 “I… guess you’re right. We’ll try to make it.” Oh God, what was he supposed to do now?

 “Trying isn’t enough, Yoongi,” his mother warns. It’s something that he already knows from years of her ingraining it into his brain—starting with when he missed a note during his first piano recital, to when he didn’t make the varsity basketball team as a freshman in high school, to when he didn’t get into the university his parents wanted him to, to now. He knows it, yet that damn barrier between doing his best and succeeding has always been nearly impossible for him to break through.

 “Relationships take work. All things do. You have to be there.” She’s undeniably correct, and Yoongi is positively screwed. Then she waves her hand at him the way that you would when an insect comes too close and you’d like it to go away. “Go home, Yoongi. It’s getting late.” It’s been getting late, he thinks to himself. You’re the one who prolonged this conversation.

 “Okay,” is what he says instead. “Drive safe. Text me when you get home.” It’s something he always tells her to do, but she never does.

 “Speaking of,” she adds. Yoongi fidgets, feet are starting to go numb from standing in the cold.  “Can you come home tomorrow to drop off your car? Ryujin finally got her permit and she needs to start practicing for her driver’s test. You don’t even drive that often anyways, and it’s not like Namjoon has any skills or even a car for her to borrow.” 

 (“Ouch,” Namjoon cries indignantly as ever from the back seat.)

 “Okay,” he agrees again, no ifs, buts, or whys to add to it. Yoongi takes really good care of his 2013 Honda Civic, and it’s really fucking hard for him to entrust his younger sister with it considering that she lacks experience and could very easily destroy its current near-perfect condition that he’s prided himself in maintaining. But Yoongi complies, because he’s already given his mother enough aneurysms this evening for a decade, and he didn’t need to add this to the list of reasons why he’s a pain in her ass.

 “Mhm,” she offers with a tight-lipped smile to accommodate it. “Go home.” Again, it wasn’t his fault he wasn’t already settled into the dinky and stiff leather seats of the red-line train back to his campus. She rolls up the window without a formal goodbye.

 His dad starts the engine back up again, the car finally pulling it out of its place on the curb. If Yoongi squints, he can see the vague outline of Namjoon giving him a wave from the tinted window of the back seat.

Min Yoongi is incomprehensibly, impetuously, and irrevocably stupid. And those were only the words starting with ‘i’.

 If he were writing a lab report, that would be his claim, and his data that follows would be taken directly from the events of tonight. Granted, you could probably pull half a million other moments of idiotic embarrassment from any period of time in his life, but this incident genuinely takes the cake.

 And so Yoongi does what anyone does at the first instance of trouble: he messages his best friend.

 (No, not Jimin. He’s already out cold by the time that Yoongi gets back to their apartment anyways, and even if he were awake, he would most definitely not be the first person he’d turn to for advice.)

 [12:54am] yoongi: wake up

[12:54am] yoongi: we have a problem

[read 12:55am]

 He’s in the middle of typing out another message—something blithe and bitter because it’s been well over eight minutes since she’s read his message and still hasn’t responded—when his screen is suddenly taken over by an abhorrent low-angle meme image of none other than Kang Seulgi herself, the message on the screen happily reading out, “seulgi 🥳 would like to FaceTime…”.

 Unfortunately for Yoongi, his heathen of a best friend preferred FaceTime over any other medium of digital communication. Sure, it was a good option for long-winded stories or for when he’s alone and face-to-face communication seems appealing. But at its worst, it was inconvenient when he was a) trying to be discreet about who he was talking to or the contents of the conversation, or b) when he was too damn tired to actually speak, leaving typing using only his thumbs to be the more appealing approach.

  (Not that either of those were an issue right now; he was definitely alone and was too adrenaline-induced to even get to his threshold of exhaustion.)

 When Yoongi begrudgingly accepts the FaceTime call, he is immediately greeted with the sight of Seulgi’s sheet mask-clad face, dark hair tucked back into a bun behind her Kakao Friends Ryan headband. There’s no greetings, no preface to the scolding that she’s already ready to deliver. “Don’t look at me like that,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “It’s Friday. That’s self care night.”

 Yoongi glances at the time glowing in the upper corner of his screen. “Technically it’s Saturday. And what happened to ‘Sundays are self-care nights’ and ‘Wednesdays are also self-care nights’?”

 “Fuck off. Not everybody can get perfect skin just by inhaling particles in the air the way that you do.”

 “It’s called drinking water, Seulgi.” She rolls her eyes.

 Yoongi sighs, feeling the need to fidget. He drags his hand through his maroon-tinted hair—a bad habit that he attributes to being roommates with Jimin for far too long and unintentionally picking up his shitty quirks.

 “So are you gonna tell me what happened, or is this just another self-wallowing party where I just sit here and watch? C’mon, I could be doing a hundred other things right now than seeing you sulk, à la Twitch streamer,” Seulgi comments annoyingly, leaning unsettlingly close to the camera until her eyes took up a vast majority of Yoongi’s phone screen. 

 Yoongi takes a breath. “Okay, so at dinner I accidentally told my parents that I have a girlfriend and have had one since November of last year because they kept clowning me over being undateable. Then they asked why I haven’t even mentioned her at all before, so now they wanna meet her next week. I’m so fucked, what do I do now?” Holy shit, that sounds a lot worse when you say it out loud.

 Knowing Seulgi for well over ten years of his life makes Yoongi damn-near telekinetic when it comes to gauging how she would react to any information presented to her. This notion is only reinforced by the way that she, as expected, lets out a painful-sounding wheeze and doubles over laughing (at least, to the best of her ability, as the sheet mask on her face is inhibiting the full range of emotion she has to show). “Stop! This isn’t supposed to be funny! I am your best friend in an embarrassingly real crisis!”

 “What I wanna know,” Seulgi lets out between fits of laughter. “Is how you even managed to convince anyone of that. We all know you’re a shitty liar, and your romantic history isn’t even existent enough for that story to be backed up. Plus your family can read people like their skulls are made of glass. They’re terrifying.”

 Yoongi ticks. “Fuck off, I’m a good actor. If I weren’t already majoring in architecture, I would probably have a lead role in a K-Drama by now.”

 Seulgi composes herself enough to roll her eyes. “Yeah, because your performance as the fifth dwarf in the fourth grade production of Snow White was absolutely phenomenal.”

 “Look,” Yoongi says, leaning closer. “You know how adament my family is when it comes to making plans with them—there’s no way I’m getting out of this. It’s only one date, but, I mean, it’s not like I have people lined up in my contact list for the spot of a believable date.”

 Seulgi fans at her face, the acidity of her face mask starting to sting. “That’s very true,” she muses. The confirmation doesn’t help whatsoever. “And it’s not like you can bring me, because they already know me and hate me on top of that. There has to be some girl that we’re close enough friends with to ask her, right? Hey—how about Soojin?”

 “Uh, you mean the one that asked for my number at the beginning of the semester, then proceeded to ghost me when I texted her to study for midterms together? Yeah, no.” 

 Seulgi opens her mouth again. “And don’t suggest Sihyeon next, because you know how bad that blind date went and I am not doing that again,” Yoongi warns. She closes her mouth. There’s a daft silence as both are left contemplating. 

 There’s still Y/N, Yoongi reminds himself, but it’s a thought he does not want to bring to light, especially to Seulgi.

 There were a plethora of different adjectives that Yoongi could use to describe you, but even using just that as a measure to describe you didn't seem to be able to do you any justice. You were witty and charming in all the best ways, and you were one of the only people Yoongi has ever met that was capable of making him tongue-tied. Sure, you were friends and you actually talked quite frequently, but that still didn’t stop his brain from turning into putty at every interaction. To put it shortly, Yoongi had a fat crush on you.

 And for that reason precisely, there was no way he could ask you to fake date him.

 Wait. It had grown oddly quiet, the sound of Seulgi’s voice no longer being white noise to Yoongi’s muddy thoughts. He directs his focus back to the FaceTime screen, only to be greeted by a cheshire cat-like grin decorating the girl’s face. He had no idea what she’d been rambling about while he was thinking, but after ten years of friendship, Yoongi has become classically conditioned enough to know that the smile plastered across her face was not a good sign. 

 “Easy solution. Ask Y/N,” she says, like it’s the easiest damn thing in the world. But she knows. While Yoongi refused to tell her anything directly, Seulgi could tell from the way he got nervous around you that the way he saw you was more than just platonic. The only downfall was that you were completely oblivious to how he felt, making every interaction between the two of you almost painful to watch. Seulgi really wonders most days if she was just born to be a magnet for dumbasses.

 “...which Y/N?” he asks, stalling for time, as if he meets someone named Y/N—as if he meets someone like you—every goddamn day. Seulgi doesn’t spare him much more than a few seconds. “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

 “No,” Yoongi protests. “I can’t do that—”

 “Why not?” She doesn’t need the answer to know she’s won. Checkmate, bitch.

 “Dude, I swear these face masks never fit over my gigantic forehead, how do you do this all the time—oh! Hey Yoongi!”

 How could Yoongi possibly forget that you and Seulgi were roommates? You pad across the room towards Seulgi’s desk, leaning down with a wave, a face mask identical to Seulgi’s covering your own face (all due respect to Seulgi, but Yoongi thinks you look a hell of a lot cuter with it on than she does). 

 “Hey!” he responds, and immediately regrets it because he sounds a hell of a lot more enthusiastic than he does on a regular day. 

 “Perfect timing, because Yoongi was just about to ask you something!” Seulgi says as she clasps her hands together innocently, you know, like the shithead she is. Because if there was anyone who loved to exploit Yoongi for all of his weaknesses (especially when it came to you), it was his own goddamn best friend. 

 “Oh really?” you ask, attentively looking towards the camera with a slight tilt of your head. “What’s up?”

 Yoongi’s mouth runs dry. Now what?

 Your face softens as you catch onto the unexpectedness that flashes in his eyes. “Hey, it’s fine if you don’t wanna talk right now. You can tell me tomorrow at Jungkook’s, right? I’m gonna go make coffee, so you and Seulgi can go back to talking about whatever it is you were talking about. Hah.” The laugh you tack onto the end feels a little forced. 

 “See you tomorrow,” he mumbles, looking down.

 Seulgi watches as you leave, only turning back around once she’s certain that you’ve left the room. “You are so whipped.”

 “Am not!” Yoongi whines, despite the fact that she was very much right. “You put me on the spot! I didn’t even plan on what I was going to say!”

 “You and your plans my ass!” she exclaims. “You’re a total chicken!” Yoongi scrambles to turn down his phone’s volume to prevent waking up his roommate.

 “All I’m saying is that if you’re not ever planning on asking her out on a real date, then you might as well just play pretend, right?” Seulgi acknowledges. “Isn’t that easier and, like, not to mention, an opportunity for you guys to get closer? I mean, it’s not like I’m an expert on this kind of stuff. After all, I'm just a girl, who also happens to have experience with asking girls out.”

 Yoongi considers his options. Yes, pretending to date someone is probably a lot easier than actually asking someone out formally. Yes, this would be an opportunity for you and him to be closer as friends (emphasis on friends), and not to mention a horrible debacle for you two to look back on five or six years and think “Damn, remember that time when you and me fake dated because you lied to your parents! That was quite the time to be alive!”. Yes, he did like you, and he wanted to be closer to you, but this was probably not the best way to go about that.

 Plus there was one factor that was unavoidable and, up until this point, not considered: Yoongi is a shitty liar. It’s up for debate on whether that would be a good thing or a bad thing considering it was you, someone who he very much currently had feelings for, and the fact that the entire relationship would be fabricated, meaning more lies. And there’s the fact that doing so would require you to meet his parents. He’d have to have less than two-fifths of a brain cell to not know that that would be asking too much of you. Yoongi’s on the verge of flatlining. 

 “No,” Yoongi decides, sealing his fate. “It’s a stupid idea and we are definitely not going to go through with it.”

This was a stupid idea, yet here Yoongi was, decidedly going through with it.

 Here’s the thing: Yoongi genuinely did not believe there was an abundance of things that were even remotely dateable about himself—sure, he can build Ikea furniture decently, he’s an architecture major (great for impressing parents), and he has too many damn hoodies and t-shirts to let people borrow without even realizing if they ever give it back. But other than that, nothing. At least, not enough for him to be deemed Boyfriend Material or whatever.

 On top of that, he’s worried about what you’d say when he asks. Would you laugh at him? Outright reject him? No, that wasn’t you—you were more likely to say yes out of pity and hate every second of it without letting him know. Oh God, that was so much worse.

 You two are friends, he reminds himself. It can’t possibly be that embarrassing or outlandish to ask to fake a date as a friendly favor, not when you’ve probably seen each other at rock bottom at least nine times within the span of your friendship. Logistically speaking, that reasoning would make sense, had there not been the glaringly palpable fact that he already had feelings for you. If he hasn’t had the nerve to legitimately ask you out yet, what would make this any easier? Yoongi hates this plan more and more the longer he is left alone to think about it. 

 This wasn’t just a stupid idea. This was a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad idea.

 It’s currently ten minutes past six, and he was supposed to be at Jungkook’s apartment nearly forty-five minutes ago. Instead, he’s still very much at his own dorm, waiting for Jimin to finish taking a damn shower, sitting at his desk and watching some cat compilation that showed up on his Instagram feed.

 If there was one thing that Min Yoongi was aware of, it was knowing exactly when his friends were planning something. All it took was a panicked look across the room, or a nervous laugh, or one too many reminders for Yoongi to be at A Very Specific Location at a Very Specific Time. 

 Added to the fact that his birthday had just passed, it doesn’t take Yoongi long to connect the dots.

 Even if he weren’t perceptive enough to catch any of those signals, he knows that Jimin is never late for an event. In fact, he was constantly on Yoongi’s ass about his punctuality—it was one of the few things that they regularly squabble over as roommates. So when Yoongi is actually ready to leave, but exits the bathroom only to be greeted with the sight of Jimin sprawled out on his bed, still in his raggedy pajamas and definitely not ready to leave, his eyes narrow with suspicion.

 “Weren’t we supposed to be there almost an hour ago?”

 Jimin shrugs with wide eyes, but it is for naught—the exaggeration of his nonchalance clearly shows that yes, they were definitely supposed to be at Jungkook’s place an hour ago, and yes, there was definitely a reason behind why he was stalling. He was never that great of an actor.

 But Yoongi plays along, because there’s something so strange yet so fucking endearing about the extent of effort that his friends put forth when it comes to things like this. He knows how much they genuinely care about him, since there've been far too many instances where he’s been on the delivering end of a surprise birthday party for someone else—they all get an adrenaline rush from planning and executing, and there’s never any feeling of obligation that comes with doing so. A total light switch from the way that his actual family celebrated his birthday with him. 

 So when they finally leave their room nearly an hour and a half later than they were supposed to, Yoongi doesn’t comment on the obviousness of his friends’ scheme. He teases Jimin for being a trainwreck of a person, even for a college student, but beyond that, he pretends he has no idea what awaits him at Jungkook’s flat. 

 Yoongi feels like he should be surprised by the chaos already unfolding the second he opens the door, but then again this was his friends that we’re talking about.

 “Jungkook, I swear to God you’re stupider than that huge ass moth that keeps hitting the window!”

 Irene stands in the kitchen with her hands on her hips as she looks down at Jungkook, stance a perfect mirror to every mother when scolding their child. Jungkook is on the floor, rubbing paper towels across the linoleum and staining them in a red substance that looks suspiciously like spicy ramen sauce. If Yoongi strains his neck a little, he can see that you and Hoseok are also helping with the damage control, although you’re both laughing far more than you are cleaning.

 “First the three cakes, now this,” Seulgi mutters. Her hair is tucked into a shittily thrown up bun and there’s frosting smudged on her cheek.

 “There goes my two dollars,” Taehyung wails, like it’s the end of the world. For a college kid like him, it practically was. He turns his head as he buries his face in his hands dramatically, but at the gesture, he notices Yoongi and Jimin’s arrival, and it’s like a light switch is flicked. He screams in that loud, booming, excited voice of his.

 In two seconds flat, Taehyung is already tackling them both in a bone crushing hug, while the rest of the group shouts out a chorus of “who’s here?” and even a “wait, we ordered pizza too?” from Hoseok. He gets a not-so-gentle smack on the shoulder in lieu of a response.

 There’s a hush that falls over the room, like they’re all waiting for someone to do something.

 “HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOONGI!” Hoseok is the first to shout it, but he’s soon joined in by the rest of the group halfway through the first word. Jimin and Taehyung each take hold of Yoongi’s arms and drag him forward towards the kitchen island where his friends are all gathered.

 There’s three cakes on the table: one that’s neatly frosted and has pretty red strawberries thrown in a pattern over the top (by the looks of it, it’s from the bakery inside H-Mart), a whole sheet cake from Costco that’s nothing but solid white frosting, and one that’s certainly… something. It’s significantly smaller than the other two, and it’s a mess of frosting and fruits on top of it. Suddenly Seulgi’s earlier words start to make sense (not to mention, the frosting on you and Seulgi’s cheeks matches the shade of the one that decorates the last cake).

 You pull up a chair for him to sit at. “Something tells me this wasn’t on purpose?” he asks with a grin, and you roll your eyes fondly.

 “Apparently none of us know what it means to stick to a plan. Also we’re all mad at Hobi and Jungkook for taking you out to dinner on your actual birthday, but failing to invite the rest of us.” 

 Yoongi pulls a smile as he watches you lean over and light the candles sitting on top of the cakes (yes, all three of them). He’s surprised that there aren’t over twenty candles on the cake, considering that it was something that his friends have done before.

 When they sing happy birthday to him, it’s comedically off-key—with the exception of Jungkook, because he’s, you know, Jungkook—and Yoongi can do nothing but watch with fond eyes at his friends. Don’t be mistaken though—that doesn’t mean he actually knows where to look when people are singing it to him, because who is good at that?

 And when Yoongi blows out the candles, he honestly isn’t sure what he’s even got to wish for. Perhaps enough money to clear his tuition debt. Or the ability to survive the accidental fake-dating mess he got himself into. 

 But Yoongi settles for the one thing that he wishes for every time he’s given the opportunity, from throwing pennies into fountains to stars in the sky that fall when he’s lucky enough to see them to the candles sitting on the cake(s) in front of him: Happiness—or at the very least, contentedness—with where he is in life. Tomorrow, ten years down the line, whenever it decides to come. And maybe, just maybe he wants to find his soulmate sometime soon. (It’s sappy, he knows it. Perhaps he spends a bit too much time with Jungkook these days. Sue him.)

 Yoongi doesn’t think about his wish afterwards though—he never does, because even he knows it’s better to focus on what’s in front of him than to dwell on an intangible wish he made over a strawberry-covered pastry. Especially when the thing that’s in front of him is an intense tag-team game of Scrabble, commentated by none other than Jung Hoseok himself.

 You’ve picked Yoongi as your partner, and he pretends that it doesn’t make his heart swell a little bit. He leans over your shoulder to look at the rack that sits in front of you both, but he can’t pick a single word that could come out of the seven letters present.

 Your face is twisted in deep concentration as you stare at your shared tiles. If Yoongi didn’t know any better, he’d think you were a finalist at the Scripps National Spelling Bee, and not in Jungkook’s living room in a shitty Scrabble game against equally illiterate college kids. 

 “Do you think ‘dipshit’ is an acceptable Scrabble word?”

 Hoseok’s already taking out his phone to google it before Yoongi stops him. “Jimin almost threw his chem textbook at me last week when I called him one. It definitely should count as a real word.”

 “You’re a fucking snitch, Yoongi,” Jimin hisses in response. Laughing, you put the seven-letter word down on the board. Jimin begrudgingly totals up the points.

It’s ten minutes to midnight when Yoongi finally drags himself to the kitchen and away from all the noise of the living room. His throat hurts, not only from the alcohol, but from all the screaming that inevitably came from doing anything remotely competitive with his friends (especially when Hoseok busted out his switch to play Mario Kart). 

 He prays that Jungkook even has water, and not just chocolate milk and soju filling his fridge to maximum capacity.

 “This party is boring, do you wanna leave together?” you ask smoothly as you appear beside him, delivering an entirely not-painful punch to his arm as you smile.

 “W-what?” Yoongi chokes on his water.

 Your cheeks suddenly flare up at his reaction (cutely, might he add). “Ah! I was talking about that one meme. Y’know, the one where you’re supposed to respond by saying ‘this is my birthday party…’. Yeah, that was it. Didn’t mean to, uh, imply anything.”

 Right. “Oh, haha. Don’t know why I didn’t think of that,” he replies with a laugh. Quite frankly, he has no idea what meme you’re even talking about (he doesn’t keep up with Twitter much these days). 

 “Also I came here to apologize.” Huh?

 “For what?” Yoongi asks, meeting your eyes. You avert them instantly, looking down at your socks. 

 “Last night—I really didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation like that. I mean, I’m guessing it was something serious? Since you didn’t wanna say what was happening and then neither did Seulgi once she hung up. So, uh, sorry if I came across as nosy.”

 “Oh,” Yoongi responds. “No—no, that’s definitely not what happened, don’t apologize. Actually, uh, I was gonna ask you something.” Now or never, he reminds himself. You look up at him, innocent expectancy in your eyes.

 Yoongi closes his eyes, short enough to be considered a blink, but also long enough for him to anticipate his impending death that he wishes for in order to rid himself of his own embarrassment. It never comes.

 “I… need your help with something.” It’s too cryptic of an answer, but it’s a start. He continues, despite the embarrassment that rises in his cheeks in the form of a pink flush. “I accidentally lied to half my family about having a girlfriend, and now they all want to meet her even though I’m literally single as fuck and now I don’t know what to do. Do you—do you want to cometodinnerwithmenextweek?” 

 You blink back up at him, like it’s taking a couple seconds for your brain to process this new information. Because wow, talk about a mouthful. Oh fuck. You don’t have an answer, and Min Yoongi is this close to saying “fuck it” and moving to Antartica where he’d die a slow and painless death, withering away in subzero temperatures until his skin turns blue instead of being right here right now.

 What he doesn’t expect is for you to start laughing.

 It’s not a mean laugh. It’s not one where it’s blatantly obvious that you think this is a prank on his part and you’re just laughing to fill space, or where you’re condescending him because you think he’s pathetic. It’s a laugh that shows that no matter how outlandish and horrible-sounding of a predicament this is, you believe him. “Please tell me you’re being serious. Please. I might cry if you aren’t.”

 Yoongi cracks a smile with you. “Trust me, I couldn’t make this shit up even if I wanted to.”

 “This is the kind of thing you only see in movies, y’know?” You muse, still laughing. “I can’t believe you actually did this to yourself. This is, like, real.”

 “Please don’t remind me of how much of an idiot I am,” Yoongi whines, before realizing that you’ve managed to avoid giving him a definitive answer still. “So… is that a yes? No? Maybe so?”

 You crease your brows slightly, still an endeared smile faint on your cheeks. “Maybe so? What would that even entail in this type of situation?”

 Yoongi grimaces. “I have no idea. Force of habit.”

 “You talk like a suburban dad,” you snort. “But to answer your question, yes. I’m all in.”

 Yoongi releases a breath he hadn’t known that he had been holding. He leans back against the kitchen counter, body turning lax now that the weight of his stress over the past twenty-four hours was now freed from his body.

 “Also it’s just one date,” Yoongi adds, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Or, like, a few weeks max. I have a whole plan and everything, so it should blow over soon and we can just move on from there. You don’t have to, like, blow my parents out of the water or anything.”

 “What if I want to though?” What the fuck.

 “Why?” Yoongi asks. It’s not meant to come out rude, and you don’t take it that way. It’s just such a brutal and difficult task, and it’s not particularly one that he would recommend to anyone to partake in. After all, it was something he had no choice but to succumb to, for the past twenty-two years of his life. 

 “I want them to like me,” you state simply. “Even if it’s just a fake date or whatever, we’re still friends so the circumstances aren’t that different. Your parents should still at least know me, right?”

 It is so much different. Because if you get his parents to like you, and they will, you’ll become a semi-permanent fixture in his life, and that sounds like a specific type of torture catered towards people who would rather keep their feelings under wraps instead of actually doing something about them. A very Yoongi-specific kind of torture.

 “That… makes sense,” Yoongi supposes. He’s not sure how applicable that sentiment is in your life, but it wasn’t exactly shared with his family, considering he doesn’t date and the only friends of Yoongi’s that his parents have ever met are Seulgi and Hoseok. “But I’m warning you, they aren’t exactly easy to impress.”

 “Are you saying you don’t think I’m capable of impressing them?”

 “No! Not at all,” he backtracks. “They’re just really high-strung—actually, it’s my mom who’s mostly like that. Not my dad so much. I just don’t want you to feel hurt if they’re… cold towards you. Especially since you’re supposed to be my girlfriend too.” He trails off at the end, and he swears that he sees your cheeks redden at the label.

 You shake it off with a smile. “Don’t worry, I can take a little criticism. Just text me when and where and I’ll be there. You still have my number, right?”

 “Yeah.” He pauses momentarily. “Wait, I don’t, actually. I got a new phone a couple months ago and I lost all my contacts.” Yoongi can’t believe that he forgot to ask for your number again. This is what he gets for having the group chat muted.

 You click your tongue. “Can’t believe it’s been months and you never once thought to text me.” There’s a smile playing on your face when you say it though. It’s not like you two even text at all outside of your group chat. “I’ll just call it right now so you can add my number faster.”

 He reads across his contact on your phone, as you press the call button.

 “Why does my name have the moon emoji next to it?” he questions with a tilt of his head. It’s cute, he thinks and it makes his chest feel funny knowing that there had to be some sort of conscious reasoning behind it. (For once, object permanence doesn’t feel so bad.)

 “Not sure, actually.” You offer a small shrug and a smile. “Just reminds me of you, ‘s all.”

 Yoongi blinks. There’s a slight pause before he swipes at his phone screen to create a new contact for your own phone number. “Well if that’s the case, I’m gonna have to put the sun emoji next to your name then,” he concedes. God, when did he get so cheesy?

 You smile, and it makes Yoongi’s chest warm with content. Something inside tells him that maybe, just maybe, this plan wouldn’t turn out so bad after all.

 Yoongi swears he sees Seulgi shoot up a thumbs-up gesture as she passes the kitchen, though he isn’t sure if it was directed towards himself or to you.

You and Yoongi are not best friends, but you’re not complete strangers. You’re in a weird state of limbo, where you see each other often enough to be close, but never together outside of a group setting enough for it to be anything more than that. At the very least, you’re beyond that stage where you aren’t sure whether to refer to one another as “someone I know” as opposed to “my friend” when each other’s names come up in conversation.

 But it is enough, Yoongi thinks—hopes, too. You’re smart, and sweet, and convincing, and a hundred other traits that Yoongi adores, and he thinks that it’d be a goddamn fluke of nature if his parents end up not liking you. But then that’s just another reason for Yoongi to fall for you, another reason that he’ll never be able to get over you, even once this single fake date is over.

 His phone buzzes from his pocket.

 [4:56pm] y/n ☀️: on a scale of 1-10 how formal am i supposed to dress

[4:56pm] y/n ☀️: like from typical cute first date outfit to daisy buchanan status what do i wear

[4:58pm] yoongi: you are putting so much effort into this date i admire your grit but quite frankly im intimidated

[4:58pm] yoongi: if it helps tho im wearing a button up shirt and black jeans so like…. maybe three on your scale

[4:58pm] yoongi: nothing too much, yk

[4:59pm] y/n ☀️: i’m meeting your parents of course i have to put effort in :(

[4:59pm] y/n ☀️: oh for fucks sake yoongi thats practically a TEN i need to go change

You’re cute, he thinks. It’s something he’s always thought—even that day that you two met, despite the fact that the details are hazy and you barely spoke more than ten words to each other—but the thought crosses his mind more and more frequently the more you’re around.

 He can feel the anticipation rising in his throat as he makes the walk from his dorm building to yours. It rises and rises the closer he gets, like a tidal wave that’s building up to its crescendo before it crashes down. It’s not a bad metaphor to match his whole situation, actually. Part of him is afraid he might sweat through his dress shirt, even with the winter air that nips at his exposed skin in the slightest.

 And when you finally step out, he feels like all the air in his lungs is knocked out of him again. 

 “Hey Yoongi,” you breathe out.

 “Hi. You look—really nice, Y/N. You’re beautiful.” Your eyes shine like the moon.

 “Look!” You say excitedly. “The dress has pockets, too!” You stick your hands into said pockets as proof of their existence.

 “Hey—are you okay?” you ask, reaching up to straighten out the collar of his button-up shirt. The proximity makes him nauseous—in the best way possible, of course. “You look like a ghost. A cute ghost, don’t worry,” you add, noticing his sharp inhale. The reassurance doesn’t help.

 “Just nervous,” he mumbles when you pull away. 

 “Same,” you hum in agreement, but you slip your hand into his. You stay like that the entire walk from your dorm to the bus stop.

 “So what got you in this kind of situation in the first place? I mean, I know you lied to your parents, but like, why?” You tilt your head, and Yoongi finds the gesture uncharacteristically cute considering you were psychoanalyzing him in the back of a bus full of other people.

 Yoongi wets his lips. Why was he doing this?

 “You know what’s funny?” You nod but don’t offer more commentary, and so he continues. “Even though I made this whole plan out of spite for them, a small and incredibly horrible part of me knows that subconsciously, I’m also doing this to impress them.” It’s not funny at all, actually—he backtracks as he realizes what he’s saying is literally contradicting himself. “That doesn’t make any sense, huh?”

 “No, I definitely get that,” you say however, the intonation of your words expressing just how much of these double-standards were likely a solidarity among you two. 

 “Also my parents think I spend too much time with Seulgi and that’s why I can’t get a girlfriend.” 

 You both laugh at that. While both of you knew and were fond of Seulgi at her best, you’ve both also seen her at her worst. As in, her boldy arguing back with that professor who had disregarded her by way of a two-sentence-long email, or her never being shy of expressing how much she hates men. She wasn’t a bad person for these traits, of course, but those impressions that were given don’t quite rub parents as “oh yeah, I love that my child is constantly spending time with you. Come to dinner soon, okay?”.

 “So basically you did all this just so they wouldn’t nag you about it anymore?”

 “Essentially, yeah.”

 “It’s a very Yoongi thing to do. I like it.”

 “And what is that supposed to mean?” Yoongi asks with a raise of his eyebrows.

 You smile again, and Yoongi can feel his insides liquify like honey. “I dunno. Convoluted. Stubborn. Endearing. Seems like you, but you’re an enigma, Yoongi, so who knows.”

 And somehow, that answer is more than enough.

 The moment you’re in the restaurant, you’re hit with a whoosh of warm air, a stark contrast to that of the wind that billows throughout the streets. Revolving sushi bars are a good date location, Yoongi had been certain of that, but he doesn’t anticipate how crowded the restaurant would be. Luckily for him though, his parents were early, and it’s impossible not to spot them from their table as soon as you enter.

 “Oh my God, I’m so nervous.”

 Punctuating your words, you reach out and grab his hand in yours. Well now he’s nervous too, just for a completely different reason.

 Yoongi waits with bated breath as his mother stares, like she’s looking for something in your face. Like there’s something about you that bleeds familiarity. She doesn’t say a word. 

 Then, you extend your hand. “Hi, I’m—”

 “Y/N,” she finishes for you, rejecting your handshake in favor of pulling you into a taut hug. “It’s been quite a while, no? I’m a little surprised that we haven’t done this sooner, considering we’ve met before.” Her statement is simple, polite, and delivered with a smile, yet was so goddamn nerve-wracking to be in conversation with, which honestly wasn’t anything out of the ordinary when it came to his mother. 

 Even you look stunned at her announcement. “W-we have?” You pass a side glance to Yoongi, barely lasting two-fifteenths of a second because you don’t want his mother to think that even you had forgotten something that she apparently kept stored in her memory after all this time. That doesn’t make for a very good first impression. “Oh, that’s right! The family weekend during freshman year!” 

 Yoongi has no idea what either of you are talking about. Again, asking him to reach back through four years of memory was like asking him to find an origami crane inside a ten-story building full of shredded paper.

 “Yep.” You look to Yoongi once you’ve shaken hands with his father. “When they were looking for your dorm, they ran into Seulgi and me and asked for directions.”

 “Doesn’t surprise me that you met through Seulgi,” his dad starts as he pulls out the chair to sit down. “She’s quite the social butterfly, that girl.” Understatement of the century.

 “We didn’t actually!” you say, and even Yoongi’s a little caught off guard. “We met at orientation, then we just kind of kept in contact after that. Seulgi being my roommate just meant that we saw each other more often, and we shared mostly the same friends. We’ve been friends for so long, ending up where we are today seemed like it was impossible all these years.”

 It’s ridiculous how everything that’s being said is made up on the fly, yet somehow rings truth in it. It’s ridiculous—especially the way that all of it is true, save for the actual dating part, and it seems entirely plausible. It makes Yoongi wonder if alternate universe him ends up in this exact place too, just under different circumstances. If this was meant to be, if his own stupidity actually led him to his fate.

 His mother nods. “Ah, friends first, relationship later. The best ones always start out that way.” You squeeze Yoongi’s hand under the table.

 The rest of dinner runs fairly smoothly. His parents ask the typical questions that are to be expected when meeting The New Girlfriend—your major, future goals, how you started dating, things about your family.—you and him make shitty jokes, you all eat. You answer all of their questions easily, and it’s a wonder that you’re not even dating anyone for real. You’re awfully good at this. Yoongi thinks that he’ll have to ask about that sometime.

 It’s all going surprisingly perfect. That is, until his mother throws a curveball into the conversation:

 “You should definitely come home with Yoongi to visit during break!” What.

 Either his mother really liked you, or the universe fucking hated his guts and wanted to prolong this fake dating thing as long as possible, just to see how much spicier that Yoongi’s life could get before he implodes. Maybe it was both.

 He really isn’t expecting you to agree—after all, you had family to visit too, and surely you’d rather spend your break doing anything other than spending it with him and his family, right? 

 “I’d love to.” Uh.

 Yoongi is a little concerned with your seeming enthusiasm to save his ass from family embarrassment. Maybe you were just really good at pretending (a better liar than Yoongi himself, not that there was much of a comparison there). Or maybe you’re playing up the excitement as a front, only for you to shut it down once you and him are alone, and he can give his parents some cheap excuse and it’ll be over. Yoongi doesn’t like that thought much either. 

 He manages to stop himself before he dwells on the unforeseen third possibility, the one where you like him just as much as he does you, and this whole thing was just an excuse to bring the two of you closer—you know, the most unrealistic of the three.

 “You have to meet our other kids too—they’re absolute angels, unlike Yoongi here.” Yoongi can’t even get offended because he knows that his mother uses a plethora of words to describe his siblings, but “angels” was nowhere near one of them. He tries and fails to suppress a laugh.

 “I wouldn’t doubt it,” you laugh along, and the adoring glance you pass to Yoongi beside you nearly makes his heart stop from how real it looks. “Yoongi’s a real pain in the butt.”

 His parents laugh, and it’s almost too much how well you seem to fit in with his family. In a perfect world, this would be his reality. Where you love him and he loves you, and his parents don’t hate you the way they seem to hate every decision that Yoongi makes for himself. 

 Yoongi picks up the tab at the end of the night. When his parents wave him and you goodbye at the bus stop when the bus arrives, Yoongi can’t help but feel like this entire night was a dream. 

 “Well,” you start with a laugh once you’ve taken your seats. “That was fun.”

 “Yeah.” He has to agree. He had almost forgotten why he’d been so nervous in the first place. It felt so natural, being there with you.

 You rest your head on his shoulder for the rest of the bus ride. Friends do that, right? 

“Hey Y/N?” he asks, stopping you in your tracks, just before you go into your building.

 “Hm?”

 “Were you serious? About the spring break thing?”

 “Of course I was.” Your reply is firm, but not in an offended or indignant manner. Like you’re simply stating a fact. “I wouldn’t have said so if I wasn’t, would I?”

 Yoongi releases a breath he hadn’t known that he had been holding. Relief washes over him. “Why? Was that not okay?” you question, now looking a little worried.

 “Of course it’s okay,” Yoongi reassures. “I just figured that you probably had family to visit too, or you already had plans. It’s really not too big of a deal if you can’t go. Makes it easier to pretend we ended the relationship too.”

 “Ah, I guess,” you reply, and there’s a detectable amount of reluctance in your voice. “I didn’t have plans for break anyways though, so that wasn’t an issue at all. It’s my parents’ anniversary that week too, so they’re probably gonna be vacationing somewhere without me. So yeah. Not a big deal.”

 It’s the exact opposite of not a big deal. “Dude, I owe you for this. So much.”

 “Nah,” you say. “Unless you’re willing to buy me the new Animal Crossing game, because if so, I won’t be opposed to that.”

 Yoongi laughs at that, but he makes a mental note. “Deal.”

 “So… see you in two weeks,” you say, a smile still prominent across your cheeks. You raise an eyebrow. “Or maybe sooner than that?”

 It’s not a rhetorical statement. It’s a question, like it’s something that you want, something that you hope is going to happen. Oh, how he wants to kiss you right now. But he doesn’t, and instead he watches as you swipe your keycard for entrance to your dorm, and turn back to offer him a small wave to bid him goodnight.

Two weeks can feel like no time at all, or eons and then some, depending on how you look at it. Like if you have two weeks left before a scholarship application is due, it feels like you’ve got until the end of time, whereas if you have two weeks on a vacation, it would feel more like it lasts longer than a single blink of your eyes.

 But this, this painful waiting between Yoongi’s next fake dating endeavor with you, feels like it belongs on an entirely different scale of its own.

 You haven’t replied to his text. In fact, you haven’t even looked at it, even though it's been well over two days since they were sent. And like the dwelling and self-destructive creature he is, Yoongi rereads his message again and again, like he has the power to rearrange the words he had sent simply by staring at them. 

 [10:03pm] yoongi: hey thanks for coming with me again tonight :) you’re the bee’s knees

[10:03pm] yoongi: pretty sure my parents love you more than they love me lmfao

 Really? Did he really call you the bee’s knees? No wonder you were ghosting him, goddamnit.

 But when two days go by without a single word from you, not just to Yoongi himself but to all of your mutual friends as well, Yoongi’s worry begins to kick in. What if you had some sort of family emergency? Or if you got kidnapped or something when you went for a walk?

 “Is Y/N doing okay?” Yoongi says, skipping over even saying hello as soon as Seulgi picks up the call. He’s already begun chewing on his nail as he speaks, a horrible nervous habit that he promises himself again and again that he’ll break every time the new year rolls around, but never lasts longer than a week or two before picking it back up again.

 “...Yeah, she’s fine,” Seulgi assures, albeit the pause she takes before speaking doesn’t offer much reassurance. “She’s just been a little sick with food poisoning the past couple days and been throwing up nonstop, but yeah! Totally fine in the Kang-slash-Y/L/N residence!” He can practically feel the grimace in Seulgi’s tone, implying that she was not, in fact, totally fine and she was undoubtedly the person who has had to deal with a sick Y/N for the past two days.

 “Oh shit,” he mutters. 

 “Oh here she comes!—Hey Y/N, honey, do you wanna talk to Yoongi? He’s on the phone right now.”

 “You don’t have to do that—” He begins. There’s a muffled screech of protest through the phone and static shuffling before you’re suddenly on the other end of the line. Then, there’s your voice. “Hi Yoongi.”

 “Hey.” It’s silent for what feels like forever. “You doing okay?”

 “Peachy,” you say. There’s another prolonged awkward silence. “Sorry about not responding to your messages.”

 “‘S fine. Texts aren’t as important as your health is,” he replies softly. “Do you need me to bring anything? I was thinking of coming over in a little bit in case you guys did.”

 “Oh my God, please don’t. We’re fine and thank you for offering, but I look like absolute shit. I’m gonna be embarrassed, even if you already know how bad it is. And I’m gross.” Yoongi laughs, and just like that, the tension in the room—or rather, through the landline—is gone. 

 “Got it,” he says, fondness coloring his voice as he moves to recline back onto his bed. He sinks into the duvet. He feels warm, both inside and out. “I’ll stay right here at home, I promise.” 

 Yoongi thinks he’d be willing to make you a thousand promises over and over if he gets to hear your laugh as soft and sweet as it is right now.

 “We shouldn’t have gone to that sushi restaurant,” you muse.

 “My fault for suggesting it,” Yoongi all but groans. “You should’ve picked the restaurant.”

 “Guess that means we’ll have to try that again, huh?” You ask, and there’s a hint in your voice that tells Yoongi that the that that you are implying was probably not having dinner with his parents again. But he doesn’t assume, because the last thing he wants is to cause a fracture in this thing—this developing friendship—that’s slowly but surely budding between you two.

 So instead, he takes the cynical route. “What, meeting my parents again? Hate to break it to you, but first impressions only happen once.”

 And you, being you, take the opportunity to spell it out for him, albeit there’s a huff in your voice at his sarcasm. “No. Dinner. You ‘n me.”

 “Yeah?” He asks, less for confirmation than it is out of surprise. “Where at?”

 “Not sure,” you contemplate. Yoongi can hear you shifting around on the other end of the line, and he wonders if you’re settling down into bed the same way he is. He wonders if you’re as comfortable as he is right now. “We’ll figure it out.” Those

 “On a scale of one to ten how formal am I supposed to dress?” Yoongi teases, the grin on his face so wide that his cheeks ache a little bit. He can’t help it though, not when it’s damn near impossible to be in your presence and not smile.

 “Oh my God, shut up.” 

 “Okay, okay,” Yoongi laughs. “How about we both just show up in pajamas instead?”

 “Not a bad idea,” you concede. Then, “Oh shit, Seulgi’s phone is about to die. See you soon.” Yoongi feels a pang of disappointment at your sudden need to depart. You also have a habit of saying that instead of a goodbye, Yoongi notices. “Promise?”

 “I promise,” he assures, and again, you could probably ask him for a piece of the sky and he’d promise you that he’d have it in an hour. He supposes that Seulgi and Jimin were right—he was whipped.

 There’s this adoring little grin playing out on his face that Yoongi knows you can’t see. Part of him wishes you could. “See you next time.”

Next time comes sooner than expected. It comes exactly four days later, in the form of dinner at some hole-in-the-wall Thai restaurant past midnight that you told him that you’ve always loved going to since you were younger. There’s no button-up shirts, no dresses with pockets, no parents. In fact, you both show up in pajamas, true to Yoongi’s snarky comment. 

 (He had been dressed in nice-but-standard datewear, but you promptly forced him to change when he was greeted with the sight of you wearing Apeach pajamas when he picked you up from your dorm. “Nobody’s gonna care,” you assured him with a roll of your eyes as you pushed him back into his room. “It’s half past midnight and I know the family that owns the restaurant.”)

 So there was that. As promised, there was good food, and Yoongi’s pretty sure he hasn’t laughed that hard with someone in an awfully long time. He likes spending time with you, he comes to realize, and in the back of his mind he wonders why you and him didn’t do this more often—just two friends and nothing more, just killing time together for the hell of it. You still give him butterflies like hell, but those nerves that prevented him from talking to you are now recycled into longing enthusiasm to be around you.

 There was a brief moment where the owner—an older woman who you had referred to as your auntie (re: a somewhat-familiar friend of your parents) for the entirety of the night—had asked if you two were dating when she came by to refill your water cups. You had both exchanged an uncertain glance with one another, but in the end, you had refuted her claim. It’s nothing if not the truth, but there’s a pang of disappointment that finds its way up Yoongi’s throat when you say it. Nope, just friends.

 She looks skeptical though, and she expresses as much with what she says next: “You kids nowadays don’t pay much attention to detail, do you?”

 And that was that. Neither of you mention it again.

 But here you are again, together, this time in the comfort of your dorm room.

 You insisted he come over to help you pack—after all you’re leaving tomorrow morning. And like the lovesick fool he is, he can’t ever say no to you. When he arrives, Seulgi leaves, but not before shooting him a wink and stating “Don’t do anything I would or wouldn’t do!”. You usher her out of the door faster, looking flustered.

 “Isn’t the weather supposed to be gloomy for all of next week?” You ask, hands on your hips as you look at the crammed wardrobe unit with a concentrated stare. There’s an awful lot of clothes in it, both yours and Seulgi’s, but Yoongi doesn’t comment on the mess.

 He pulls up the weather app on his own phone. “Nope, it’s supposed to clear up after Saturday.”

 At his okay, you pump your fist slightly in triumph. You lay out your outfits on the bed carefully, right next to where Yoongi sits. “What if your siblings hate me?” You wonder aloud, but there’s a hint of insecurity in your tone.

 Yoongi shuts it down. “I promise you they won’t. Namjoon’s too occupied playing Pokemon Go all the damn time, and Ryujin—she’s funny and she loves rom-com K-dramas a little too much, but she’s probably the only tolerable high schooler that you’ll ever meet.”

 You sit down beside him. “You’re close with them,” you conclude. “That’s cute.”

 “I guess you could say that.” Yoongi rubs at the back of his neck. “I mean, the last time I’ve talked to either of them was nearly a month ago on my birthday, except for Namjoon sending me TikTok videos he thinks are funny every other day.”

 “At least you have that,” you laugh, and yeah, Yoongi supposes that you’re right. “You’re the oldest, right?”

 “Only by a couple years.”

 “I bet they look up to you a lot though,” you muse. 

 “Probably not,” he snorts. “I’m, like, the antithesis of who they should be. But I’m glad that I have them around.” You nod in keen understanding.

 Yoongi’s also glad that he has you. At the very least, until next time.

[skrltwtch]

Silverware

Prompt: on a first date and A is a werewolf and doesn’t know the cutlery is silver (Source in master list)

Word count: 4,897 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I buried my nose in the bouquet of lilies and roses Jake had bought for me. It was the perfect emblem of summer with its warm, sunny hues and fresh, tangy scent — and the perfect segue to the next part of our date. The first part was a visit to the local farmers market, out of which we were now walking. Coming here had been his suggestion. It was something different from the usual first date stuff like coffee or a movie, and I liked it a lot, notwithstanding my initial reservations. I liked him a lot after what I’d seen of him at the market. I felt like the place helped bring out a certain spark between us. For one, there was constant talk about planning for date number two using what we’d seen and bought. If that wasn’t promising, I didn’t know what was!

‘Thank you, Jake. I love it,’ I said about the bouquet.

‘You’re most welcome,’ he said, a broad grin brightening up his face. ‘And thank you for the flavoured olive oil. Makes me kind of wish we didn’t have this dinner reservation …’ His grin turned sheepish in nature. ‘But that’s what’s making me look forward to our next date.’

See?

‘Do you want to call for a taxi or walk?’ he said.

‘What time’s our reservation?’

‘6:00 p.m. on the dot.’

My watch came alive with a flick of my wrist. ‘Let’s walk, then. I want to walk off all the cheese I sampled.’ I’d sampled a lot. In my defence, it was almost that time of the month — and that other time of the month. ‘Do you know the way?’

‘Google Maps can teach me.’

The route Google Maps recommended was scenic. London Bridge looked lovely at this time of day. Its appeal was heightened tenfold with Jake by my side. Could you believe we met on Tinder? It still felt unreal to me. Getting this match used up all my good luck for the year, and we were only at the halfway point. Well, if it meant burning the roof of my mouth most of the time I ate to be able to quit the dating scene for a reasonable amount of time (“once and for all” seemed a little ambitious, though that would be nice), who was I to whinge about the hand fate had dealt me?

The restaurant was located within the Four Seasons. We had been overdressed for the market. Now we were … dressed. I was flattered as fuck that he picked such a lavish place for dinner for a first date. I hadn’t the faintest clue what it was about my profile and our conversations that made him think of a high-end French restaurant helmed by a Michelin-starred chef in a five-star hotel. I did try to talk him out of it (gently). It wasn’t about the cost. Food was one of the things I was more than happy to splurge on. It was just … I never had anyone think this highly of me before, and I wondered if that’d change if … and when … he knew the truth about me.

The host led us into the main dining room and to our table. An amuse-bouche and warm bread came together with the menus. The prices were as expected of the type of establishment this was. Everything sounded good, though this was my first time coming across some of these words. Looking up what each one meant would add to the time something would take to reach our table, and my stomach would sooner eat itself out of desperation.

‘Please don’t hold back,’ said Jake, sensing my indecision. ‘The price is not an issue.’

I did have to hold back. The coincidental timing of this month’s full moon and crimson tide amplified every-fucking-thing I could possibly feel to a divinely hellish degree in the days leading up to them. As it was, I could easily polish off a five-course meal by myself. If Jake wanted this date to go in a less chaste direction after dinner, hell would freeze over before I’d even dream of talking him out of it, first date etiquette be damned. Was the fact that he was such a goddamn catch helping anything? Absolutely fucking not.

‘No, it’s not that. I can’t — I can’t decide what I want,’ I said. It was technically true. I was torn between the beef (never mind that it was £98) and veal … and both of them at once. ‘What are you having? Maybe I can get some inspiration from you.’

‘I was thinking the turbot … or the pigeon. Yeah, I can’t make up my mind either. I’m leaning toward the pigeon …? No, the turbot. Or the scallops …? Fuck. I need an adult.’

‘Let’s choose for each other.’

‘Promise not to hate each other’s choices — or each other?’

‘Pinky promise.’

We locked our pinkies together. I hoped touching him would never grow old.

Once our promise had been sanctified and we separated from each other, Jake signalled for the nearest available waitstaff. One came over almost instantly. The restaurant was bustling with activity, a far cry from however long it had been since we arrived. She took our order in a cordial fashion, not making a bigger deal of how we were ordering for each other than it should be. I chose the scallops for him; he chose the veal for me. I convinced him to start our evening with the langoustine; he sweet-talked me into ending it with the rhubarb. The waitstaff validated all our choices with a knowing smile.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask — and I hope I’m not stepping on your toes here,’ Jake started when our table was just the two of us again. ‘How did you get that scar on your arm?’

It was a matter of time. And bless him. I would never be offended by being asked about the memento of what’d changed my life forever. I would be offended by an adverse reaction to how exactly my life had been changed forever. I raised my arm, giving the scar in question its time in the limelight: brownish-pink, leathery circles arranged in the shape of a crescent, the ones at both ends abnormally large and ragged-looking.

‘My ex-boyfriend’s dog bit me,’ I said. More like my ex-boyfriend was the offending canine. ‘That’s not why he’s an ex, in case you were wondering.’ I’d wanted to be turned. He’d been more than happy to lend a helping set of fangs. Sadly, the idea of us being cute werewolves together was yet another one of those things that simply sounded nicer on paper. It wasn’t all sour between us. We’d sometimes meet for romps. It got lonely sometimes, and it wasn’t like there was an online forum for werewolves to socialise or whatever. I doubted he’d have known of one anyway: he was literally an American werewolf in London.

‘Did it hurt? It’s such a huge scar. Did anything happen to the dog afterward?’ He held up his hands. ‘Am I being nosy? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.’

I smiled in the hope that it’d soothe his worries. ‘You’re not being nosy. It was … okay for what it was.’ Euphoric. ‘The dog’s fine. It wouldn’t be fair to punish it for an instinct thing.’ Yup.

‘That’s good to hear. I think it’s a bad-ass scar. And I didn’t think it’s why he’s an ex.’

‘Thank you. Most people did. Yeesh. Give me some credit.’

‘I’m not most people … I hope.’ He smirked. The apples of his cheeks turned pink.

He really wasn’t. And I wanted so badly to tell him the truth there and then to see if that’d still hold true in the face of a bombshell like that. I had yet to tell anyone about my lycanthropy: if movies, television shows, books, etc., were anything to go by, I’d assume most people would react with fear or disgust, or both. Chris had been thoroughly flabbergasted when I reacted the way I did to learning why he always turned down my suggestions to go stargazing on nights with full moons. I got what I wanted … eventually.

Maybe I should tell Jake sooner than later. Separate the wheat from the chaff. Then I wouldn’t have wasted my time having pined for someone who thought I was some kind of freak of nature.

That conversation — or rather, thinking about that conversation would have to wait, as our starter, bearing a strong resemblance to a flower arrangement with colours befitting the season, had arrived. Food was always the perfect diversion. So would the inevitable back-and-forth about who could have the third and last langoustine. Splitting it was not an option, for one piece was as big as my thumb. I loved the portion sizes of frou-frou fancy food. So much bang for one’s buck.

‘Bon appétit,’ said Jake. ‘That’s one of … four French phrases I know. The other three are “bonjour”, “omelette du fromage”, and — I can’t say the last one in a public place.’

‘Is it by any chance … “voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir”?’ I made no effort whatsoever to lower my volume — or maintain a straight face. Brazenness blazed through my cheeks.

He put a hand on his chest, feigning surprise. ‘Well!’ He tittered. ‘Since you asked ever so nicely, and in French … This is why your choices tonight have been shellfish, isn’t it?’

‘You got me.’

‘Looking at their portion sizes, I don’t think your plan’s going to work very well. Not that I’d need the help of — shut up, Jake.’

‘Keep going, Jake’ was what I’d have said and wanted if my stomach hadn’t started getting on my case for letting good food get cold. (‘Rubbery lobster? Gross!’) There was something hot about someone like Jake — a posh, proper Englishman, the polar opposite of Chris … okay, no, stop bringing him up, stop thinking about him, goddammit — talking openly, confidently, about his prowess. Such words … coming out of his mouth … in that accent … I quickly pressed my legs together to quell any desires. Which hunger of mine was responsible for this?

Wanting to satiate the one appetite I could at this very moment without earning myself prison time for my troubles, I said, ‘Bon appétit, Jake’, and picked up my fork … which promptly fell onto my plate with the fucking loudest clang. The smell of burning flesh tickled my nostrils — my burning flesh. My fingers were sizzling where the fork touched them. Sizzling! I prayed it was only my nose that could pick up this delectable aroma.

I stared at the cutlery. Trust a high-end French restaurant helmed by a Michelin-starred chef in a five-star hotel to use real silverware, not that cheap silver-plated shit. I prodded the fork handle — and withdrew my finger immediately. Not one of my finer moments. Please don’t tell me Jake saw it.

‘Is everything okay?’ said Jake.

Ah, fuck.

‘Yeah,’ I said, examining my palm. Good news: the burn hadn’t healed and wasn’t healing as quickly as my wounds and injuries (not that I had many of them) did after I was turned, so that was one less question to dodge. I didn’t want to keep lying to Jake. I didn’t like that I had been. How would I explain the absence of a second-degree burn that existed mere seconds ago anyway? Bad news: was this never going to heal because of what caused it? I had been so careful with silver since I was turned. How would I explain a perpetual second-degree burn? Would it out me as a werewolf to people who knew what to look for? Was now really the time for Twenty Questions?

Noticing Jake had been waiting on me to provide some kind of elucidation on my well-being, I said, ‘I guess I have a silver allergy. Can you believe it? Who’s allergic to silver?’

He didn’t need to say, ‘What kind of allergy burns someone?’ for me to hear it in my head.

‘Can you eat, then?’ he said.

I shook my head. As far as I was concerned, silver was lethal. No ifs, no buts, no maybes. If a perpetual second-degree burn was the worst thing to come out of fleeting contact with the metal, so be it. I’d consider myself a lucky lycan indeed.

‘Pardon me,’ Jake said to the waitstaff who’d come with our entrées, ‘would you have any disposable cutlery perhaps? My lady’ — he did not — ‘is allergic to the silverware.’

The waitstaff did an excellent job of not acting like this very dashing gentleman had just dropped the barmiest string of words on her during her entire employment in this line of work. Even I didn’t quite believe it myself. ‘I’ll see what we have, sir, ma’am,’ she said, cool as a cucumber. After she finished setting down our food, she collected all the silverware on my side of the table and left.

‘I don’t think whatever she comes back with would help with your veal. I could cut it up for you?’ said Jake.

Oh, my God. Getting burnt by silver must be the universe’s way of course-correcting the unusual jackpot I’d hit with him. Good Tinder matches were a myth!

‘No, it’s fine. Thank you. I’ll manage … somehow,’ I said. The wooden cutlery the waitstaff had returned with didn’t inspire confidence in me to not fling a piece of meat or a utensil at someone while cutting into my food.

‘We could swap dishes. I’d be fine with the veal. It was in my top five earlier.’

I suffocated a sigh. His scallops looked more like an appetiser than a main. But what choice did I have? I could either eat the veal like the animal that put me in this position or go through the restaurant’s entire supply of wooden cutlery with nothing to show for the effort in my belly and possibly injure someone in the process. Neither option would do any favours for my image in the eyes of the guy I liked and whose bones I’d like to jump at some point, enhanced animal lust or not.

So, I agreed. I tried to draw out the meal for as long as I could. Between the teeny serving and the unwieldiness of the wooden cutlery, I was having a miserable time. Dinner had become a silent affair, a far cry from everything prior to this point. Contrary to the vibe I was putting out, the food had nothing to do with my dour mood. For the first time since I was turned, I wasn’t happy about what I was. Could I never truly lead a normal life? Did I have to lie to every potential suitor and fret about whether they’d accept that other side of me on top of all the intricacies of dating?

There ought to be a dating app for verified supernatural creatures.

‘How’s the veal?’ I said. I had to speak up: I wasn’t being fair to Jake by acting like a sullen teenager over something he had zero control over, and the silence was deafening.

‘It’s — I might’ve done you a favour. How about my — your scallops?’

‘As good as three bites can get. I can’t tell if it tastes funny because of the wooden fork.’

‘This has been a disaster, hasn’t it?’ He flashed a wry smile. ‘Can I be honest? I have no idea what possessed me to pick a place like this for a first date.’

‘It’s a nice place. And it hasn’t been a disaster.’ If anything, I was the disaster. As always.

‘How was the market?’

‘The market was great. I had an amazing time.’

‘Thank God. I’ll take one out of two.’

I reached across the table and placed my hand on top of his. He made things extra saucy by interlocking his fingers with mine. ‘Jake, it’s fine. Today has been wonderful. I should be sorry for making things awkward with my … allergy.’ Nope, that still sounded silly.

‘What? No, don’t be. It’s not your fault.’

It … kind of was.

‘How about ice cream after this? My treat. I’m certain the rhubarb will be so very pretty and so very … nothing.’

He hit the nail on the head. The food we had would do wonders for my Instagram feed while having done nothing for my diet. I appreciated his offer, though I was afraid it would take more than ice cream to fill me up properly … Then again, that was a problem that rested solely in my dominion, not his, and it was one I intended to solve by trawling the likes of Deliveroo and Uber Eats in the comfort of my underthings at home — the one true way to enjoy food.

I asked for the bill the second dessert arrived. I wanted to leave here as soon as possible. I had quite enough of the wooden cutlery. I felt like a child using them. And like I told Jake earlier, I was on the fence about whether to attribute the food’s slightly off taste to them or my unrefined taste buds. Even the rhubarb wasn’t spared. Dessert was supposed to be my safe space, dammit!

I footed the bill in its entirety despite his objections. It helped that the waitstaff presented it to me because I’d been the one who asked, and that I was quick with my card. Sisters watching out for each other, everyone. The plan was then to go about the rest of the evening as if it had slipped my mind to ask him for his half or even bring it up in the first place. It was the least I could do for putting a wee damper on dinner with my … me-ness. He was going to treat me to ice cream anyway. There. We were even now.

The best-laid plans of mice and men often went awry: Jake snatched the bill folder and, taking out his phone, said, ‘Do you have Paym, Pingit, or PayPal? Why am I only noticing now that they all start with P?’

I admitted defeat: ‘Paym.’ It might be harder for him — or anyone — to believe I had none of those apps than that I was a werewolf. Did I want to put that to the test? No.

My phone buzzed with the confirmation that my plan had been a dud. ‘Thank you. Now let’s blow this popsicle stand and head to a real one.’

We left and worked on our next destination outside the restaurant. The staff had to want us out of there as much as we wanted ourselves out of there. The time of day meant we had limited options: ice cream parlours in London seemed to think people would lose the mood for sweet treats the moment the sky turned dark and the air cooled. Inanity. We had to return to where our date started for the one place that was open at this hour. It was just as well: I needed the walk this time to clear my head after what happened at dinner. It hadn’t seemed to dull the shine of his opinion of me, at least. He was as chipper as ever. Unless he was a good actor and paid up as soon as he did so he could ghost me after this and find himself a date that didn’t have some bogus allergy to silver …

Me? Over-thinking things? Never.

‘Do you want to do takeout or eat in?’ I said when we found ourselves less than fifty metres away from the parlour tasked with plying us with ice cream for tonight without a say in the matter.

‘Let’s do takeout and walk back to Borough Station. Full circle.’

The place was crowded: the most logical outcome for the only ice cream parlour open at this time near a tourist hotspot in the middle of summer. Customer turnover was quick, however, and we left with our orders within fifteen minutes. As tempting as their sundaes and waffles — towering, decadent creations of sugary indulgence — looked, we went back to the basics after our overly sophisticated dinner. Unlike before, what we wanted came to us in a snap: for myself, a speculoos gelato; for Jake, a gelato, too, but make it salted caramel.

And this time, we could help ourselves to each other’s food. With permission, of course.

‘A fraction of the price, but infinitely better,’ I said.

‘I hope the same can be said of our second date.’

‘And what would that be?’

‘Dinner at Chez Walker. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?’

‘I do think so.’

‘It would have to be the weekend after next, though.’

‘Why? Got another date next Saturday?’ I had a firm enough grip on reality to recognise and accept that a guy like him had to be neck deep in matches.

‘No … next weekend’s the full moon. I thought you’d know.’

I stopped dead in my tracks. ‘Why would I?’ I buried my stammer under a bemused scoff. Like, why would anyone — any not-werewolf, which, as far as Jake was concerned, was what I was — care to know when the full moon was?

He, too, stopped walking and looked me dead in the eye. ‘Imogen, I know what you are.’

I wiped my palms on the front of my dress. They were suddenly so sweaty. So sweaty. Why were they so sweaty? Could he see that they were so sweaty? I tried to defuse the situation the best — and maybe only — way I knew how: ‘Are we quoting Twilight? I’ll have you know that I liked the book when I first read it in 2007. And I thought the movie wasn’t too bad either.’ This was true, and I wasn’t ashamed of it. Any female millennial who said they had felt nothing for Edward Cullen was a filthy liar.

‘I’m not ashamed either to say I read the book and watched the movie. But I’m serious.’

‘Okay … say it, then. Go on.’ Was that how the line went? I wasn’t going to look it up now. On a list of things that mattered in this moment, accurate movie quotes was nowhere near the top twenty.

‘You’re a werewolf. And I know how this sounds, so don’t humour me or —’ His tone had taken on a jittery lilt, uncharacteristic of someone who ought to be humoured, ridiculed (what his next word had to be), or — my worst-case scenario — feared.

‘How did you know?’

His mien changed in a manner that suggested that wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. Fuck it. Chris had trusted me enough to tell me the truth after a handful of dates, and he did it because he liked me a lot and he wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible so that we could move on in some way. (Me asking him to turn me was the real curveball of that conversation.) The least I could do, really, was to extend that same courtesy to Jake. I liked him. I liked him a lot. If he had a problem with what I was, it was better that I found out now that he did than many months down the road. There was no element of compromise to my … condition.

‘You mean I’m —?’

‘Right? Not crazy?’ I showed him my palm. The burn had taken about an hour to reach the healing stage normal people would reach in a week or so. ‘Yeah.’

‘Damn …’ He cleared his throat. ‘How did I know? I was brought up on a steady diet of horror movies and read way too many young adult supernatural books in the day, more than I’d care to admit. That, and my ex-girlfriend’s second uncle was killed by a werewolf.’

‘Shit.’

‘I’m kidding — about the last part. The first two are true. My ex-girlfriend was a vampire, and one of her uncles — I can’t remember which one; it could’ve really been her second — was with a werewolf when we were together. Vampires and werewolves get along quite well, actually.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

‘How the tables have turned … I’m not.’ He went through his phone with his free hand and, upon finding what he’d been looking for, passed it to me. ‘Look.’

On the screen was a photo of him with his arm around a hazy figure in clothes that were otherwise in focus.

‘Drove me quite mad at first, thinking something was wrong with my phone. Then she went a little … overboard once, and the rest was history. She shared everything about her world — your world — with me. And I’m also in several online paranormal communities, so there’s that. It’s not all as hush-hush as one might think. It just takes an open mind.’

I returned his phone to him. ‘How did you figure me out?’

‘Your “allergy”. I had my suspicions about your scar. Your reaction to the silverware confirmed them. Allergies … don’t do this.’ He took my hand and stroked my palm. The sensation of his fingers on the raw skin was … electric. ‘I’m sorry I put you in an awkward position and you weren’t ready to tell me. What I said … just slipped out. I understand. It has to be fucking terrifying. It’s okay if you don’t want to see me again after this. But I want you to know that what you are doesn’t change a thing about how I feel about you. How you were turned is none of my business. The whole thing is, really. I did an arse thing. I’m an arse. First with the goddamn restaurant, now this. Way to fucking go, Walker,’ he said to himself quietly.

I flung my empty gelato container into the nearest bin, and then my arms around him. I helped throw away his for him, too. ‘You’re not an arse, Jake. This doesn’t change anything about how I feel about you, too. I like you a lot.’ His cheeks flushed deeply under the moonlight. ‘I was freaking out about this whole thing during dinner because I like you a lot. I am so relieved that we’ve gotten to lay our cards on the table.’ I fanned myself with my hand. Don’t cry, Imogen! ‘And because I don’t want there to be any more lies between us, it was my ex-boyfriend who turned me, and he did it because I wanted it.’

‘Oh. Yeah, it still doesn’t change a thing.’ His lips landed on my forehead in a peck. ‘Okay, I never imagined the topic of our exes would come up so often during our first date. Oh, well. Guess they had more of an impact on us than we’d like to think.’

‘Yeah’ — I chuckled, ‘let’s keep walking.’

I peeled myself off him. Our hands remained intertwined. Like dinner, the remaining walk — as short as it was — to the station was a quiet one. Unlike dinner, it was more so that we were simply basking, revelling, in the afterglow of our attraction to each other and each other’s presence. The world felt right again, just as it did at the farmers market.

The next time we spoke was on the train platform. ‘Thank you for the lovely time,’ I said, ‘and for being such a sweetheart.’ I waved my bouquet at him. It still looked pristine despite all the walking we did. ‘For everything.’

‘Thank you, too. I had an amazing time with you today. I can assure you that Chez Walker will serve larger portions than what we had earlier.’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘The weekend after next, then?’

‘Yes,’ I said, grinning. ‘I’d be down for any time before the weekend, too, if Chez Walker is open then.’

‘I’ll speak with the chef.’

He moved in for a goodbye kiss, which I seized wholeheartedly. His smell and the sound of his heartbeat flooded my senses. I could feel his heart beating against his chest under my touch, thumping, thumping away for every second our lips lingered on each other’s. I had to contain myself and keep things G-rated and light, as such kisses were wont to be, though my instincts were screaming, baying, at me to get to satisfying at least one craving tonight. I was the one to break off the kiss for fear of going too far.

‘Just in time,’ said Jake, his eyes doing that thing they did whenever he smiled. ‘My train’s here. I’ll see you next week?’

‘I thought you said you’ll speak with the chef about next week.’

‘I realised I don’t care what the chef thinks. He’ll be fine with it anyhow: he doesn’t have to bust out the good silverware.’

‘Goodbye, Jake.’

‘See you, Imogen. Message me when you get home?’

‘I will.’

We waved at each other, right before the train doors swallowed him up. My train came soon after, too. I spent the entire ride home wondering not what to fill the void that was my stomach with, but what fresh hell the universe had in store for me in return for scoring me a guy like Jake.

[goddess-of-geeks]

Grace and Power pt. 3

Things have changed

Me and a friend got one name, but we also want options you know...

A/N: How’s you're day?

Warnings: None, if you squint you might find a hint of violence, but you could also see that without squinting so, idk

Word Count: 2673 (This took up 12 pages in my google doc)

Pt. 2

~~~

You and Iroh stood on the outside of Zuko’s door looking at a map.

“He’s not gonna like this is he?” You asked Iroh.

“Not in the slightest.” Iroh nodded in response.

You both stared at the door for a couple of seconds before Iroh cleared his throat.

“Ladies first.” He said with a sweeping gesture.

You rolled your eyes before opening the door.

You cringed as the hinges squeaked.

“Zuko.” You called out his name announcing your presence, as if the door didn't do a good enough job of that.

Zuko was meditating, seated in front of 4 candles.

“The only reason you should be interrupting me is if you have news about the Avatar.” He said in a dangerously calm voice

You and Iroh cautiously entered, the map in your hand. 

“Well, there is news, Prince Zuko, but you might not like it. Don't get too upset.” Iroh told his nephew.

“Uncle, you taught me that keeping a level head is a sign of a great leader. Now whatever you have to say, I'm sure that I can take it.” Zuko calmly stated.

“You’re not gonna be calm after this.” You mumbled to yourself.

“Okay, then... we have no idea where he is.”

“WHAT?” Zuko shouted in Anger

The four candles surrounding Zuko flared to the ceiling with his rage. You and Iroh covered your faces with your hand in attempts to protect yourself from the flames. Zuko stands quickly and turns around to face Iroh and you, visible anger was sketched on his face.

Iroh pulled a fan out of his pocket whilst you wiped the sweat that formed above your brow.

“Never do that again.” You spoke to the prince at the same time Iroh said, “You really should open a window in here.”

“Give me the map.” Zuko said as he snatched it from your hands.

You quickly took it back before giving him a stern look.

“That was quite rude of you Prince Zuko.” You said, putting emphasis on the prince.

He turned to you with an annoyed look on his face.

“May I have the map please.” He said with gritted teeth.

“Why of course you can have it Zuzu, thank you for asking so nicely.” You said sweetly.

Iroh chuckled at the interaction whilst you were handing the map over to Zuko.

Zuko opened the rolled scroll and began to study it. Iroh continued to fan himself, whilst you leaned over  Zuko’s shoulder to get another look at the map.

You could feel heat rise to your cheeks at your close proximity, but you didn’t let it affect you. Zuko seemed unbothered. 

“There have been multiple sightings of the Avatar, but he is impossible to track down.” You said as you looked up from the map to Zuko’s face trying to gauge his reaction.

You noticed a slight shade of pink dusting Zuko’s cheeks that wasn’t there before.

Zuko may be a cold, detached, emotionless human being but he still harbored feelings for you. What feeling exactly you weren't quite sure, but a feeling nonetheless.

“How am I gonna find him, Uncle?” Zuko asked with his eyes trained on the map in his hands. “He is clearly a master of evasive maneuvering.”

~~~

You sat next to Zuko and Iroh at a table in your robes awaiting your dinner.

When the cook placed the cooked fish in front of the three he let slip that the Avatar was on Kyoshi Island.

Zuko hastily stood up and spoke angrily. 

“The Avatar's on Kyoshi Island? Uncle ready the rhinos. Y/N get dressed. He’s not getting away from me this time.” Zuko said as he walked toward the exit.

You looked down at your stomach as it began to growl.

“I was planning on eating.” You said sadly to yourself.

Iroh turned to face his receding nephew, “Are you going to finish that?”

Zuko turned and angrily walked back to the table to grab his fish.

“I was going to save it for later.” he announced before storming out of the room.

You looked at the doorway where Zuko just exited with his meal. You sighed and shook your head before looking towards Iroh.

“Someone needs to give that boy a chocolate bar.” You said before standing up to exit the room as well.

~~~

You were laying on your bed, in your battle armor, facing the ceiling. Your gloved hands clasped together and lay on your stomach.

You heard the door open with a bang. Without looking up you knew it was Zuko. His stupidity was so radiant you could feel it from miles away.

“Why yes Zuko of course you can come into my room.” You said.

“We need to talk.” He said roughly.

“That’s never a good conversation starter.” You muttered to yourself. You sat up and positioned yourself on the side of the bed. Zuko sat next to you

“Why aren’t you at home.” He asked you.

It took a couple of seconds for the question to register in your brain before you spoke up.

“How do you mean?” You asked.

Zuko made a face between curiosity and concern. He was quiet for a few minutes trying to word out his next phrase.

“Why were you with Zhao instead of your uncle? You and I both know that your uncle is overprotective of you. I truly doubt he would just let you join the army.”

He looked at you with concern in his eyes, it made your heart melt to know that he still cared for you, but you couldn't tell him why you left. You didn't even tell your uncle why you left, how could you possibly tell him.

You opened your mouth, trying to come up with a quick lie, but your answer was cut short when the lieutenant entered your room announcing your arrival at Kyoshi Island.

You quickly stood up from your bed and left the room, Zuko followed after you.

He grabbed your wrist and made you turn to look towards him.

You opened your mouth again, this time prepared to give him an answer.

“I promise i’ll tell you when I’m ready.” You knew he was too stubborn to take that as an answer but right now you had more important things to do.

Zuko reluctantly let go of your wrist and walked in front of you to give orders to his soldiers.

~~~

“Don’t do anything stupid.” You told Zuko whilst he sat on top of his komodo rhino. “We’re here for one reason and one reason only, there's no good enough reason for you to burn down an island.”

“As long as they turn over the Avatar no damage shall be done to their island.” He responded. You knew he was determined to capture the Avatar. No matter what was at stake.

You sighed and climbed up onto a komodo rhino of your own. You strapped a spear to your back. It may not have been your area of expertise but, someone had to make sure this idiot didn’t hurt innocent people.

As you, Zuko and the other firebenders rode out of the ship Zuko called out, “I want the Avatar alive.”

You, Zuko, and the others rode towards Kyoshi.

As you entered the village you noticed the absence of people in the streets.

“Maybe nobody is home.” You said turning to Zuko. “Why don’t we just leave and look for the Avatar somewhere else.” You suggested hopefully to Zuko.

“We’re not leaving because you don’t want people to get hurt. They’re harboring the Avatar, that by itself should be a crime.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. You were worried just how much Zuko was willing to do to capture the Avatar.

“Come out Avatar.” Zuko shouted, “You can’t hide from me forever.”

Zuko turned to his men, “Find him, Y/N stay with me.”

The firebenders dispersed. Traveling the island looking for the Avatar.

As the firebenders rode forward you noticed the Kyoshi Warriors jumping off the roofs and ambushing the firebenders below them. You couldn't help but grin as nearly all the firebenders were knocked from their komodo rhinos.

You noticed how one warrior in particular was running towards Zuko. You noticed how her head piece was different from the others.

“She must be the leader.” You thought to yourself.

 Zuko shot volleys of flames that the warrior quickly and easily dodged.

You were impressed with her moves so you didn't bother interfering because you knew that this could only end one way. With the warrior winning. You just sat on your komodo rhino and enjoyed the show.

You were quickly proven wrong as the komodo rhino swung its tail and knocked the warrior out of the air.

You gasped as the warrior landed hard on her side

You noticed how Zuko was preparing to strike her. You changed the course of your rhino to intercept the attack, but your attempts were deemed futile as what appeared to be a boy in the Kyoshi uniform stepped in front of Zuko’s attack. Successfully deflecting it with a fan.

You squint your eyes at the sight in front of you.

“Is that boy wearing a dress and a full face of cosmetics?” You questioned aloud. “Not like there’s anything wrong with that, If it makes him happy, who am I to judge.”

Then from out of nowhere another Warrior Ambushed Zuko and knocked him off of his rhino and to the ground. You couldn’t help but laugh at what had just happened.

You heard the sound of moving air and turned to your side to the Warrior Boy, aiming an attack at you. He threw himself at you successfully knocking you down on your right shoulder.

The impact caused you to wince and the injury on your shoulder to sting.

You quickly kicked the boy off of you and stood over him.

“I don’t know who you are, but if you ever do that again I will dislocate all of your limbs.” You said through gritted teeth.

You used your left hand to reach towards the boy.

He looked at your outstretched hand curiously before asking, “What kind of attack is that.”

You rolled your eyes and blew hard out of your nose.

“It’s not an attack it’s an offer of assistance. So you could either take my hand, or stay on the ground all day.” You said, annoyance dripping your town.

The boy reluctantly took your hand and you helped bring him to his feet.

You let go of his hand and turned your body looking for Zuko, finding him sprawled on a porch.

“What did I just witness.” You turned your head and saw the warrior Zuko knocked down.

“I don’t know.” The boy answered, looking at you through narrowed eyes, “but we have bigger problems.”

The boy motioned towards Zuko. He, the girl, and another Kyoshi warrior made their way towards Zuko.

“Don’t hurt him too badly or I’ll never hear the end of it.” You called after them. You knew they weren’t listening but you wanted Zuko to know that you still cared whether he got injured or not.

The three warriors cautiously approach the prone Zuko. 

Zuko spins around on his hands shooting fire bolts out of his feet at the approaching warriors. He knocks them all to the ground and pulls himself to his feet. Zuko leaps to the middle of the street.

“That ended so much worse than I wanted it too.” You said quietly.

You turned your head and noticed a flame atop of nearly every building.

“Now would’ve been a great time to be a waterbender.” You muttered to yourself as you quickly made your way to Zuko’s side.

“If we leave this island in ruins I will torment you for the rest of our lives.”

He ignored you and called out, “Nice try avatar but these little girls can’t save you.”

You looked at the Kyoshi Warriors he left on the porch.

“I'm pretty sure one of those is a male.” You told him.

“Not now Y/N.” Zuko muttered to you after sending a sideways glance in your direction.

“Battle is boring, don’t blame me for trying to keep us entertained.”

“Hey over here.” You heard a voice call out. You and Zuko turned the source and there stood the Avatar.

“This day couldn’t get any worse.” You mumbles mostly to yourself. 

“Finally.” Zuko said when he noticed the last airbender.

Zuko swung his left air from right to left in an attempt to strike the Avatar.

What happened next was a split second decision, you couldn’t allow Zuko to ruin this town more than he already has.

As the fire started forming in his hands, you swept his legs out from under his body so he landed on his chest. You then quickly grabbed your spear and pressed the blunt side to his back.

“Y/N what are you doing.” He asked you. His voice was a mixture of hurt, betrayal and anger.

“I wasn’t going to stand here and watch you destroy innocent people's lives.”

You looked up and saw the Avatar fly away on his staff. You assumed it would be safe to let Zuko back up.

You took the blunt of your spear off of his back. He quickly stood up and grabbed your spear from your hands and broke it over his leg.

“Hey!” you protested, “That was my new.”

“I don’t care, because of you the Avatar got away.”

You heard a loud roar and looked up to see a flying bison.

“Back to the ship!” Zuko said as he turned to his men. “Don’t lose sight of them.”

He roughly grabbed your arm and pulled you towards the ship.

“I am soooo gonna die.” You muttered to yourself.

On your ride back to the ship a giant sea serpent sprayed you with water from above. Making the rhinos stop in their tracks.

“Well this was a fun trip.” You said to no one in particular.

~~~

When you and the crew arrived at the ship, Zuko grabbed you by the elbow and pulled you to the side.

Now, not only did stupidity radiate off of him but so did anger.

“Why did you attack me.” He said with a tone of authority.

“Becuase I told you not to do anything stupid, yet you proceeded to do something incredibly stupid.”

“I was trying to capture the Avatar how was that stupid.”

You narrowed your eyes at the prince, “If I hadn’t stopped you, you would have burnt that whole village down. I was not going to allow you to do that.”

“Why do you care so much about some dumb village.” If it weren't for the fact that you were a nonbender, there would’ve been smoke coming out of your ears.

You marched up to the prince and poked a finger into his chest, “That’s not just some ‘dumb village’ that is the home to the residents of Kyoshi Island.” You said, the anger in your voice far outmatched the anger in his. “I really hope you aren’t forgetting that everyone from my home village died in a fire. The reason my parents are dead,” you said, putting emphasis on the word dead, “Is because someone set our home on fire. The only difference between my home and Kyoshi island, is that there were people who were skilled enough to stop it.”

You turned on your heel and away from the prince. You felt the tears streaming down your face but you were walking too quickly for any of the crew to notice.

You entered your room on the ship and slammed the doors.

You slumped your back on the door and slid down till you were seated on the floor. You pulled your knees to your chest and cried. You never planned on getting so emotional, but every time you thought of your parents and your home, you couldn't help but sob.

Hopefully Zuko will realize the mistakes he’s making just to win his father's approval.

~~~

A/N: This is kinda shit but honestly who cares

Masterlist

Taglist form

[deadwatcrs]

⟨  tom holland  ,  non-binary demiboy  ,  he/they  ,  22  ⟩   there  goes  ARTHUR ‘ARTIE’ HART  after  the  opposing  team’s  flag  ,  the  child   of  APHRODITE  who  was  claimed  to  CABIN TEN  eleven years  ago  .  wielding  their  SPEAR  ,  and  their  inherited  TELEPORTATION  at  the  ready  ,  they’re  sure  to  lead  their  team  to  victory  .  after  all  ,  it  was  their  demigod  prowess  that  proved  to  be  vital  during  the  arduous  and  decisive  JOURNEY TO FIND DAEDALUS AND THE MAP OF THE LABYRINTH  (  demigod  18  )  they  ventured  on  in  the  past  .  don't  let  their  feat  fool  you  though  ,  it  was  during  this  quest  that  they  were  challenged  by  their  FEAR OF ABANDONMENT AND LONELINESS  .  perhaps  that  is  the  reason  they've  chosen  to  side  with  the  titan  army  .

hello hello !!! so excited to be here with everyone :-) !!! i’m mira, i’m 20, i use she/her pronouns nd i live in the gmt+8 zone, so u can expect me awake when no one else is KJEHHSEJK i’ve been a fan of pjo since like,,,, i was 12 nd was literally convinced i was a demigod so u can imagine !!!! that when i saw this rp i was like !!!! [screams] 

anyways !! this is arthur ‘artie’ hart nd they are New so i’m still working out a lot of their story, but im v excited to see where they’ll go :-) i have a few connections regarding his story nd also just ,, slapped som stuff down from the app into here HEKJHESJK 

PART ONE.    THE BASICS.

name: arthur ‘artie’ hart. prefers to go by artie, as arthur is what his aunt calls him. age: twenty-two. zodiac: born on july 21st, 1999, making him a cancer sun, scorpio moon and leo rising. gender & pronouns: nonbinary demiboy. uses he/him and they/them pronouns. romantic orientation: bisexual.

PART TWO.     THE HIDDEN DEPTHS, THE SCRATCHED LAYER.

positive traits: compassionate / perceptive / mild-mannered. negative traits: pessimistic / evasive / easily jealous. mbti: ENFJ - the protagonist. moral alignment: chaotic good. what is their motivation?: artie is motivated, primarily, by the desire to never find themselves abandoned and alone. growing up with an absent goddess of a mother, a mother deep in her memories of a lover she’ll never see again and an aunt who tried to give them a foundation to grow from meant that their life was more or less marred by the concept of loneliness, of abandonment. 

artie wants, more than anything else, for no future demigods to feel the same way they did — and if that means tearing down olympus and getting rid of the gods, then they were willing to turn the other cheek, to contribute bare bones to take on the least amount of blood and ichor. aphrodite had never made a move to acknowledge him other than the obligatory favor of claiming him as her child, and the knowledge that she too had abandoned him pushed him to the side of the titans.

the choice to do the bare minimum is rooted in the fact that they are still very much attached to camp half-blood and everyone within it, as they had been there for half their life. it is a decision rooted in wanting the best for the camp and its campers even if the decision is a difficult one. after all, what have the gods ever done for the hundreds of children they’ve brought into the world?

what was growing up like?: for starters, artie appreciates that his aunt tried. their mother was far too wrapped up in memories of a lover long gone, and aphrodite had never once made an effort beyond dropping them off at their mother’s doorstep and then claiming them as her child eleven years later. growing up was difficult. like any demigod child, there were instances that could never be explained, like the time artie was in his room one minute and the living room the next without ever having touched his closed door and the time his backpack was torn to shreds while he was still wearing it. still, they had to push through childhood, often seeking comfort in the arms of their aunt when the monsters got too close. at eleven, a satyr brought artie to camp half-blood after discovering their teleportation ability (it was a stupid incident, and one artie is reluctant to tell again, but it ends with falling asleep while their foot was in a toilet bowl while walking to class). 

camp half-blood was a haven for artie as their heritage was unraveled. aphrodite claimed him a week after he arrived at camp, and he was immediately drawn to the change in lifestyle. it was a relief for all the pieces to fall into place, for artie to realize that they weren’t different. at thirteen, they became a year rounder camper after their aunt had encouraged them to stay, knowing their mother couldn’t keep them safe. their time at camp was divided into learning how to fight with a spear (a weapon that quickly became their go-to, the one weapon they were actually proficient with) and learning how to manage their ability. however, worry constantly nagged at them, as they realized they were only putting off a life alone. artie may not have been different, but there were very few people who lived like they did.

PART THREE.     THE EXTRAS, THE CONNECTIONS.

ambrosia tastes like the cranberry-walnut cookies their aunt used to make for them.

they have a little mp3 player because they absolutely cannot live without listening to music. it’s not connected to wifi or data, just a little device that hosts illegally downloaded music.

interchangeably uses he and they pronouns. gender identity was something artie struggled with growing up, as they never felt totally connected to their assigned gender at birth but didn’t feel totally disconnected from it either. it took a lot of google searches, long late night talks with the nymphs and his aunt and encouragement from their fellow siblings before they realized they were non-binary, and furthermore, a demi-boy. they do have a preference for people to refer to them with ‘he/him’ pronouns, while they tend to use ‘they/them’. of course, they don’t really mind what people use as long as it’s either he or them, and ultimately, artie is just happy he’s got this part of himself figured out.

handy with a spear. they tend to spin the weapon around their hand as part of their signature move, and yes, it is just to show off how good he is at spinning it.

pinterest here.

i.    this house burned down and we’ll take the memories with it.

this would be the person who artie is closest to and considers family. they would’ve been there for his every milestone, the person who had his back more often than not and vice versa. however, after artie is revealed to be part of luke’s army, betrayal strains their relationship. i can see this connection (in current times) focusing heavily on the fact that they’re both on directly opposing sides but want the other to be by their side, but being unable to switch sides themselves. this connection is also one heavily steeped in years and years of friendship, as artie has been at camp since he was eleven, and then switched to being a year-rounder at thirteen.

ii.    and where have the gods gone? taken by rainier gang.

artie didn’t want to switch to the titan’s side at first. he was convinced over a long period of time, and this connection focuses on the dynamic between artie and whoever took the time to convince him to switch sides. seeing as one of artie’s deepest fears is ending up alone and abandoned, maybe this dynamic focused on that aspect! honestly, i’m open to however this connection develops since it’s a pretty open-ended one.

iii.     for these are shared wounds. taken by emri kyung, salem poe.

in short, they have been artie’s sparring partner since he was a new camper. as a child of aphrodite, there was always that expectation that he’d be useless in a battlefield and this person took a chance on him, showing him everything he now knows about how to fight. they aren’t close by any means but there is comfort in intimately knowing what they’re like on a battlefield. how this dynamic develops depends on which side (or none, if they’re neutral!) the other person is on.

other wanted connections:

literally anything my brain is tiny LOL

[andthentherewasanightfall]

╭────────────── STARTER

╰─➤ ・*。@gcmblingdice​

Having a bad sense of direction sometimes could end up being disastrous, but seldom it could make the most amazing things happen. And that's what happened to Jimin when he ended up on the wrong side of the city, managing to get lost while trying to stay on the right path (or at least what he assumed the right one is). He blamed the messily written directions even though he was fully aware that it was his fault. He was awful at directions; everyone knew that. Hell, he could get lost even with GPS leading him. Taemin will have so much fun once again when he tells him, pointing out his horrible sense of direction.

Ending up in a park was not part of his plan (nor it was getting lost) though once he encountered a family of ducks on his way through it, Jimin ended up being positively charmed by them. Before he saw them only in the movies, magazines or books so this was the first time he saw them live and truthfully, he was completely mesmerized. They reminded him of those calm scenes in the movies when characters would feed the ducks by the lake, relax and enjoy their peaceful time. It made Jimin giddy just imagining the sight of doing that himself but unfortunately he had things to do so he couldn't stay for a longer time. He did, however, mark down the place in Google maps, making a promise to come back and feed those cute little ducks.

It was only a week later when he managed to find the time and buy food that he thought those little ducks would eat. He somehow miraculously managed to return to the same place without any problems (he made a mental note to mention that to Taemin because ha! he managed not to get lost for a change). The only problem right now was that the ducks were avoiding him and didn't seem interested in the food he had to offer. He frowned as he tried to get them to come closer, trying to appeal to them by acting cute, but they seemed to be immune to his charm. "What am I doing wrong? Don't you like this? No? Are you sure? Won't you even try? Pretty please? Can you at least try it? For me? No?" He even tried to talk to them but his efforts were futile. It made him release a long sigh as he leaned back against the old bench, closing his eyes while trying to think of what else he could do. Maybe he should buy something else to give them to eat?

[momentary-ecstasy]

Digital Tabletop RPG Reference

I know the vast majority of the world is being encouraged to stay home. It can be a struggle at time to isolate yourself in such a way and I know that a lot of Tabletop RPG groups have had to call a hiatus or move online. If you’re one of these people or you’re just looking to get into tabletop RPGs at this time, I’ve created a post of all the free and cheap things I can think of to get you started.

Platforms

Roll20 - Roll20 is a platform with free and paid tier subscriptions. With the free subscription you can run games easily, import maps, create campaigns, and share sources you already have. All combat and movement views are top-down. The only drawbacks is if you would like to use the embedded resources in your games the source material can be a little pricey, but if you use it in conjunction with dndbeyond or just your paper materials it’s easy enough to accomplish

Tabletop Simulator - Tabletop Simulator is exactly how it sounds. It’s a virtual tabletop to play, not just RPGs, but generally any kind of tabletop game you can think of. There are extensive asset packs in the workshop to use with TTRPGs, as well as packs that allow you to play games like Betrayal at House on Haunted Hill and Gloomhaven which are pretty expensive irl. Tabletop Simulator is in the steam store right now for about $20. Unfortunately everyone in your group needs to have it in order to play. A workaround one of my groups found is for someone (usually the DM) to have it up and screenshare over discord.

Fantasy Grounds - Full disclosure, I haven’t used Fantasy Grounds personally. It’s just the things that usually comes up when looking for ways to play online. It does look easy to use and right now they’re having a sale. The demo version is free but only allowed 1 player and 1 GM. The standard edition is currently on sale for $9.75 for the year and the Ultimate edition for $89.40.

Astral Tabletop - Another online web app to play campaigns through. I don’t know much about it, but the important bit is that all paid features are free until April. It supports motion maps which is super nice for the GMs that want something extra.

Source Materials

Source materials are generally the most costly part of a campaign. I’ve tried to find the cheapest, quality TTRPGs materials possible.

Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition

Wizards of the Coast has the core rules on their site for free so you can get started without all the costs of books and supplements

dndbeyond - dndbeyond offers all 5e source material as well as tools for created and running a campaign. If someone in your party has a DM tier subscription, only one person has to buy the materials on the site and create a campaign to share with everyone else. Digitally the books are fairly cheap with the Player’s Handbook and the Dungeon Master Guide coming in at $30 each. Even if you don’t buy the materials from dndbeyond, the character sheet creator is absolutely worth the free account

Roll20 - the 5e content on roll20 is a little pricey, but if you decide to use roll20 for your campaign, this does make it easier to add loot and other equipment directly into the maps

Fate

Fate may be new to a lot of people, but it is the blankest of slates when it comes to TTRPGs. It can be adapted into any kind of established or homebrew world you can think of.

Evil Hat Productions is the publisher of Fate and has PDF versions of all of their TTRPG games. The Fate Accelerated Edition (a condensed version of Fate Core) is free in pdf form with a suggested pay-what-you-like rate of $2.50. The more in depth Fate Core System is free in pdf form with a suggested pay-what-you-like rate of $5. There are also various toolkits on the on their site to help you adapt Fate to the setting of your choice. 

Roll20 does a little better with pricing when it comes to FATE with the Fate Complete Bundle coming in at $20

Monster Hearts 2

Monster Hearts is a supernatural coming-of-age RPG as seen on Critical Role. It has a very simple rule set based on the Apocalypse World engine. It is available on the creator’s website for $10 with a discount code in the description for people who can’t afford that at this time. While you’re there check out The Quiet Year, a post-apocalyptic map game that only requires a deck of cards to play, available for pay-what-you-like.

Call of Cthulhu

A horror RPG set in the 1920s based on the works of the problematic progenitor of modern horror, HP Lovecraft.

Chaosium, who publishes CoC, has the Starter Set PDF for $9.99. This includes basic rules, a solo adventure, 5 character sheets, and 2 adventures for a Keeper (the GM), and their players. I have personally played the solo adventure and highly recommend it to get you familiar with the rules if CoC is what you’re looking at. the Keeper Rulebook ($27.95) and Investiator Handbook ($22.95) are both available in PDF forms on their site.

Roll20 also has a lot of CoC content that can be integrated into character sheets and actual gameplay on Roll20

Misc Resources

Maps - You can get free RPG maps at the r/dndmaps subreddit where users post their battle and realm maps creations. 2 Minute Tabletop also has a free section.

Dice Rollers - If you don’t have dice and don’t want to risk ordering them or going to find some right now there are several online dice rollers like the Wizards of the Coast dice roller and the embedded dice roller if you google ‘dice roller’. Most virtual RPG platforms have virtual dice rolling as well.

Minis - If you go the Tabletop Simulator route, you can import your own miniatures that you can render yourself or get from sites like thingiverse and myminifactory. They do have to be converted to obj files to import to Tabletop Simulator, but that can be done with a free program like blender.

Modules - If you want pre-made or homebrew adventures, items, and classes, check out DM’s Guild for Dungeons and Dragons and DriveThruRPG for all other systems

I will probably add more systems later, but this should be enough to get you started or at least point you in the right direction to start your quarantined tabletop adventures.

[taexual]

HOLIC - 37 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: angst (and a lot of technicalities, so bear with me)

words: 5.2k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

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Jaebum still had his arms wrapped tightly around you when your alarm went off the next morning. His grip felt a little like what sleeping in the very center of hell must have felt like and yet, you’d have rather burned alive than complained. For the first few minutes after waking up, your anxiety didn’t even realize that it was supposed to work overtime today to prepare you for your interview, because waking up with Jaebum right next to you felt so calming.

It was very difficult to remember your responsibilities but, after spending another few moments content in his arms, – moments you knew you’d regret as soon as you left the motel and had to run to the gallery – you finally managed to pull out of his grip and sit up. Your skin shivered immediately – the motel room, when Jaebum wasn’t holding you, was surprisingly cold – and you went to find a sweater you’ve taken just in case before you headed for the shower.

As you rearranged your overnight bag in search of your make-up bag, Jaebum’s phone on the nightstand right next to you began to buzz. You couldn’t understand how the sound didn’t wake him up. He actually didn’t seem to hear it at all because when you stood up another moment later, Jaebum’s eyes were still closed and his breathing was just as slow, even though his phone continued to go off.

Thinking that something happened, you leaned closer to check if this was an emergency and if you should have woken him up for this, but retreated as soon as you saw Jackson’s name on the screen, along with a very aggressive, “CALL ME AS SOON AS YOU SEE THIS!!!!!” as one of the text messages, followed by a dozen identical ones.

You couldn’t tell what Jackson’s reasons for trying to reach Jaebum this early were, but you didn’t investigate further. This would have been an invasion of Jaebum’s privacy that you hoped you’d never have to resort to. Clearly, since Jackson didn’t bother calling and settled on endless texts instead, this wasn’t that big of a deal, and, therefore, it could wait until Jaebum saw the texts himself.

Glancing at his sleeping features one more time, you smiled to yourself out of reflex, and then headed for the bathroom to prepare for the day ahead.

It took you longer to gather the courage to leave the motel room – Jaebum was still asleep and, therefore, was unable to push you out of the door – than it took for you to find the gallery on foot. You didn’t want to bother with a taxi so you’d left early, expecting to get lost at least a few times on your way there – granted, you’ve miscalculated just how relatively small this city was – but you had Google Maps open on your phone for all of the fifteen minutes that it took you to reach the gallery. Needless to say, you stood outside of their door twenty minutes before your interview was supposed to start.

The gallery was not in a very large building even though it stood in-between two 20-floor giants – most likely the tallest buildings in this whole city – and looked decidedly out of place. When you opened the doors, however, you realized that this was only the first impression because, once you were inside, you saw that just the entrance desk and the waiting area alone took up as much space as half of the first floor of your gallery back home. The size of this place fit right in with the vibes of the city center.

As you waited for the receptionist to finish her phone call and let you know what to do, you looked around. It was certainly a photography-oriented place, contrary to the gallery you worked in - they only specialized in photography exhibitions once in a blue moon. Here, however, even without any exhibitions currently taking place, the walls were decorated by still-life moments captured by photographers whose names you've read up on before you came. You felt comfortable here – and, paradoxically, insecure, too – but that was soon to change.

“Miss?” the receptionist called on you another few minutes later. You raised your head and met her kind smile. “Please, come this way. They are ready for you. The whole team rarely ever gathers for interviews such as these, but we have everyone waiting for you today.”

You were suddenly very hot. “The whole team?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, leading you past the doors labeled “STAFF ONLY” and walking down the hall. The walls here were decorated with works of photography, too. “Usually, it's only our agents that attend the interviews. Or, well, in the case of up-and-coming photographers such as yourself, it's just one scouting agent. But the owner is here, too. And so are all three of our agents.”

“Oh,” you swallowed, not having prepared to impress such a huge group of important people. “I'm starting to feel the pressure.”

“Oh, don't!” she whipped her head to look at you and stopped outside of a sleek black double door at the end of the hall. “You should be honored. It is obvious that the gallery is interested in you, especially.”

You couldn't understand why that was – you hadn’t studied on campus here and you certainly hadn't made a name for yourself with your photography yet – but then the receptionist opened the door for you and you had to do a double-take at the sight of the room in front of you. You'd been warned to expect at least four people inside, but there was only one. And yet, the sight of him explained the special interested in you and, at the same time, it made it clear that you were absolutely not going to get an exhibition here.

“It's nice to see you again,” Jiho spoke, standing up from his seat on the far right of the meeting room where he'd been reading something on his tablet. “I hope you don't mind, I've asked the rest of my team to join us later so you would hopefully feel less intimidated.”

“You, uh... Y-you knew I was coming?” you asked, so deeply uncomfortable and distracted, you couldn't find one spot to rest your eyes on.

The sound of the door closing as the receptionist left you and him alone sent nervous shivers down your spine.

“Yes, well, your application had your name on it,” Jiho explained, this way revealing to you that the reason why he had called you in the car on your way over here could have been this. “Although, your last name did have a typo, so I wasn't sure if it was really you but all of my doubts were cleared when I saw your portfolio. Normally, it's just me holding interviews with our candidates – or, sometimes, it’s me and Luke, one of the senior agents here – but I gathered the whole team here today.”

You dared to look at him. “Why?”  

“Because I know how much potential you have,” he replied. “And I think this exhibition – if you don't mind hosting it here – shouldn't be a one-night event. I think we can make it last the whole weekend at the very least. And that’s just for starters.”

“I'm not sure I’m following your train of thought.”

“Sit, please,” he offered, pointing at the chair next to him.

You strongly debated leaving but, after having come all the way here, it wouldn’t have made sense to just drop everything and run. You had to, at least, endure this interview. So, you sat down next to him and desperately tried to stop your hands from shaking so much. When Jiho had mentioned – all of these days ago – that he came from a town six hours from here, you should have really kept in mind to avoid all places within the ratio of his potential hometown.

“Usually, when working with amateur photographers, we offer them a chance to hold their exhibition here for one night,” Jiho explained then. “We might buy some of their works for the gallery, and, of course, other people who are interested are able to contact the photographers through us later, too. But it's just this one night we’re offering. They present their work, interact with the guests, maybe earn a profit if these guests express an interest in buying something. And then, if they're thinking about another exhibition, they have to go through the same process again; they have to send us the updated resumes, go through the interviews and so on.”

“I see,” you nodded slowly. He seemed to have been describing an extremely short-term contract. “You don't guarantee them a future. It's just one night.”

“Right,” he said. “But that's not what I—we—want for you. I'm thinking it's possible for you to hold a successful weekend exhibition here. Three days, at the very least: Friday through Sunday.”

Knowing your lack of experience in exhibitions, Jiho was truly offering you a treasure chest. You couldn't understand why. In all of the times that you've known him, he had expressed his admiration for your work only once or twice, choosing instead to give you advice about what you could have done better. You’d learned that he was never one to freely share compliments, so this confused you.

“Why?” you asked again. “Why am I receiving this different treatment?”

“We must have two different sets of eyes if you have to ask me that,” he smiled. You didn't. “You're good. Very good. You have a lot of potential for growth. That's exactly what we're looking for here. At this current time, the gallery only sponsors two young photographers. That's where I started out, too, and, well, in three weeks, I'm having my second exhibition in the capital city.”

“Congratulations,” you said in a dry tone but he didn’t seem to pay attention to it and nodded politely.

“Thank you,” he said. “I hope you see that getting recognized by one gallery is already enough to jump-start your career. I stayed here because these people have helped me become who I am today, but getting their sponsorship does not necessarily mean you have to continue to work here. It's an open agreement.”

You were hesitant – and so desperate to find a way to turn back the time before you’d allowed yourself to believe that turning your dreams into reality was actually possible for you – but you still asked, “what does that imply, exactly?”

“It means that we're flexible. We'll never give you specific orders or find gigs for you. But we will sponsor you and whatever photoshoots you're interested in doing, and, most importantly, we’ll provide you with the opportunity to exhibit your work here again. If you should accept this opportunity,” Jiho explained and you closed your eyes momentarily, exhaling your frustration. You’d have been over the moon to get an offer like this at any other gallery. “As long as there’s mutual interest, we supply the money, you deliver the art.”

“Without any interviews?”

He nodded. “Without any interviews.”

“Sounds like this is based an awful lot on trust, though,” you pointed out.

“It is,” Jiho didn’t deny it. “We need to be able to trust the artists we're working with. I'd have never offered you this if I didn't trust you.”

Perhaps accidentally, he focused all of his attention on the offers of the gallery, avoiding the question you’d asked him twice already. You dreaded to know why he was really excluding you from the bunch of other applicants for an exhibition here and yet you couldn’t resist not finding out the real reason because this was simply too good to be true. There had to be a hidden intention here.

“So, you're offering me a three-day exhibition and a sponsorship,” you concluded, “even though I’m barely an amateur. Why?”

“Because you have potential,” he repeated himself.

“I can't help but feel like there's a catch,” you admitted, unable to conceal the suspicion in your voice.

Jiho smiled at this, not offended in the slightest.

“Perceptive as always,” he said and you cringed. Clearly, perception was not your strong suit or you would have figured out why a gallery so far away from your own city was offering you an exhibition. Moreover, you’d have seen through Jiho’s intentions from the moment you had first laid your eyes on him, and this meeting would have been far less awkward. “The only catch is that the gallery needs a stronger guarantee that you will succeed.”

“How can I guarantee that?”

“By making a name for yourself before your first exhibition,” he said simply. “It's smooth sailing from then on. You just need more people to know who you are and your exhibition will automatically succeed.”

“Critically acclaimed exhibitions aren't always hosted by famous photographers,” you said. “Sometimes, they’re hosted by unknown artists.”

“Of course. But “sometimes” is not a word we use when we agree to work with young photographers because we need guarantees. As I’ve said, the agreements we reach with our artists are based on mutual trust. We don't measure success in, uh, critical terms here,” Jiho spoke. “We focus on advertising. The gallery is making a name for itself through its' exhibitions. If our photographers are being talked about, the gallery is being talked about. That’s success to us. Consequently, the more popular the gallery is, the more success it can bring to its’ artists and vice versa. It's a win-win situation.”

That explained Jiho's need to have popular – beautiful – faces at his exhibitions. He wasn’t interested in getting recognized by the critics – at least, not as much as he was interested in gathering more attention – he just needed to become a household name.

“Alright,” you said, swallowing thickly. “And how do you suppose I can make a name for myself before I have an exhibition?”

“I'm here to help you with that.”

You could feel his answer in your chest but you still asked, “how?”

“I've started working on my own career by allowing Luke, the agent I'd mentioned before, to mentor me. He took me everywhere with him leading up to my debut as a photographer,” Jiho told you. He’d somehow – probably on purpose – skipped out on this part when he was telling you about his photography origins the first time you’d met. “He introduced me to so many people, we couldn't fit them all in here when the day of my exhibition arrived. I was an instant success because Luke believed in me. He became my first social connection, and the strongest one I had at the time, too.”

You weren’t looking at him because you knew he’d be waiting for your eyes to start glittering. He’d expect you to perk up at this and perhaps even agree to everything immediately. But this didn’t sound right. None of it did. It sounded too easy. Too fake. Those “success overnight” stories didn’t actually happen overnight and you wanted to believe that they happened because of someone’s hard-work and not because of various PR stunts.

“I can do that for you,” Jiho added gently after you didn’t reply.

“Why me, specifically?” you asked for the upteenth time, more confused by each of his explanations. “It can’t just be potential. There are lots of promising photographers out there.”

“There are. But they all lack something,” Jiho explained. “I’m offering this because I believe in you. I've already told you that this always works both ways - it would never be just me bringing you recognition. Both of us would be noticed. The press adores finding tendencies. Us two getting spotted at several events in a row? We'd be the talk of the photography world before we even realized it.”

“I… I don’t know,” you were already shaking your head before you could even open your mouth. “I don’t think that’s a—”

“Listen, if there are any personal affairs you’re worried about, I can explain the situation,” he cut in. “I mean, if you’re worried your boyfriend wouldn’t approve—”

“N-no,” you stopped him. You had a feeling Jaebum would have ended Jiho’s life on the spot if he saw him. God knows what he’d do if Jiho actually tried to explain this plan to him. “No. There’s no one to explain anything to.”

“Well, then I’m afraid I don’t really understand your hesitation,” Jiho said, chuckling awkwardly, “I know you’re smart enough to realize how crucial this is for the rest of your career. You know offers like these don’t fall out of the sky with every rainfall,” he paused, giving you time to consider the weight of his words. They were heavy, sure, but instead of pressing you down, they just made you want to run away to escape them faster. “But, of course, I’d never force you to do something you aren’t comfortable doing. The rest of my team will tell you the same thing when we meet up with them for a tour of the gallery later.”

“I—”

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now,” he continued, not letting you get a word in. “I think I’ve already told you that I took the job here because I want to help young, starting photographers.”

“Have you personally offered this to any other applicants?” you asked.

“No. None of them showed as much potential.”

You feared that potential had very little part in this. “Do… uh, do looks matter when it comes to this?”

“You’re a photographer,” he smiled. “You tell me.”

“Right,” you exhaled slowly before admitting, “I don’t want the reason why I’m hosting an exhibition to be my relationship with one of the agents of the gallery – because that’s what the media will think. That’s—I’m not sure that would be good for my reputation.”

“That would never be the reason,” Jiho disagreed but he wasn’t very convincing. “But even if it was, your reputation wouldn’t be damaged. Whatever the media assumes, we don’t interfere. You can’t destroy your reputation if you don’t even say anything, right? And that’s exactly how it goes – the more we’re seen together and the more we stay quiet about the nature of our relationship, the eager everyone will be to figure out what’s going on here. The press is the best at making a big deal out of nothing and it’s all just a game of publicity. By the time the exhibition happens, you won’t just be a promising amateur who takes pictures occassionally. You’ll be a promising photographer. People will know who you are and they will want to see what you’ve got.”

“That kind of media attention, though… it brings rumors,” you insisted, still having a hard time grasping his reasons for being so set on this as the right way to bring you success. “Being seen together causes speculation. Maybe people will even realize that what we’re doing is just for publicity. It will paint us both in a negative light to the point where it won’t even matter why we were actually together. It won’t matter that we never confirmed or denied anything. How is that going to help any of our careers?”

Jiho – chuckling lightly at your innocence because he liked to think that he was an old dog in this business – leaned in closer before he spoke, “let me teach you something vital about this: as long as people are talking, you’re doing great. You have a big heart and you care a lot about your appearance in the eyes of others but, the truth is, any kind of publicity is good publicity. It’s what brings you the recognition you seek. You don’t have to hope and pray to become one of the few popular photographers who became popular just because they’re that good. There are barely any people who could say that so it’s just unrealistic, really. But nor hope, nor prayer has anything to do with what we’re offering you. Our offer guarantees you become popular.”

You expected nothing less from him. Media attention was his main priority. Reputation was on a different level that was, clearly, nowhere near as important as popularity.

You’ve heard of the scandals the famous Hollywood photographers sometimes got involved in – it was all a part of “show business” – and you never wanted to become like them. However, at the end of the day, you really did not know what the inside of this world looked like. Perhaps Jiho was right to look at you with pity – your fear and your innocence when it came to similar manipulations might have been the very reason why it had taken you so long to send your portfolio to any gallery and this same innocence also threatened to become the reason why your career never advanced.

Your moral compass kept vibrating and telling you that this was not something you should have gotten involved in, but you knew that most of your values – and your ability to tell right from wrong – stemmed from fear and general conformity. You were starting to see that you lacked boldness and perhaps you lacked determination, too. Jiho was right, there were so few people who were magically rewarded with opportunities to become world-renowned artists on their own terms. Barely anyone was good enough -- and interesting enough -- to achieve immediate critical success with no outside help whatsoever. The rest of the world had to work hard to achieve popularity and success. They had to break out of their own shells. Step out of their comfort zones.

You didn’t think you had it in you to break the chains that were the norm for you. You didn’t think you’d manage to forcefully start your career Jiho’s way, but you didn’t want to fade into oblivion by waiting around for an opportunity to do this your way, either.

“I need some time to think,” you decided, your throat as dry as sandpaper.

“By all means,” Jiho leaned back in his seat. “Let me check with the rest of the team, then, alright? And then we’ll show you around and introduce you to this place. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

You didn’t feel up for a tour anymore. “Uh, I—”

“You can get back to us with your answer as soon as you reach a decision,” Jiho said, already standing up from his seat and pulling his phone out of his pocket. “The sooner the better, though. You know how this works.”

He smiled at you in this specific way that let you know that, although he was generous enough to offer you an opportunity to host an exhibition – even if it might have irreversibly stained your reputation – he wasn’t going to sit around waiting for your answer for too long. Perhaps the only reason why he was offering you some time to think at all, was because you and him already knew each other. Perhaps, when it came to others – not that there were any, according to him – he demanded an answer right away.

His smile told you that he thought he was doing you a huge favor. He thought he was offering to create a career for you. He thought he’d crafted the perfect conditions for you to succeed – the kind of conditions that no other gallery—no other agent—was ever going to offer you unless you magically became more well-known some other way.

And, with anxiety pooling in your stomach, you feared that Jiho was right. This was a favor that no one else was going to offer you. But it felt an awful lot like a crossroad contract – you may not have been selling your soul just yet, but you still worried you were about to make a deal with the devil.

When you left the gallery an hour later, your mood was even worse. The place was fantastic. And with each story the owner of the gallery told you – God, he was such a pleasant man; if it’d been him talking to you in that room, you’d have said yes right away – you kept falling in love with it more and more.

Three of your professors from college have actually hosted exhibitions here in the past, and one of them was even sponsored by the gallery for a few years before he took up the teaching position. It was like you were meant to come here. Like you were meant to start your career here.

And yet, you’d left without giving them an answer because responding in the affirmative would have meant stomping on all of your beliefs and agreeing to play their game with no rules. At the same time, dismissing the offer would have meant throwing your entire future away. Neither answer seemed appropriate and you’d never thought offers that could not be refused actually existed outside of Mafia books but now you knew they were real.

You’d hoped to clear your mind and settle on a decision that made more sense as you walked home from the gallery – it wasn’t hard: either you lost yourself or you lost your future –but you found yourself standing outside of the door of your motel room with your mind still buzzing with loud repetitive thoughts, lists of pros and cons, and dread, dread, dread.

But then you finally managed to open the door and, within moments, Jaebum was leaping from his bed and pushing you against the nearest wall.

“Thank God you’re back!” he exclaimed, his hands on either side of you, his face close. The excitement in his eyes was like nothing you’ve seen before and you couldn’t find it in you to worry if you’d closed the door after you entered.

“I—alright there, golden retriever,” you pressed your hands to his chest – noticing his rapid heartbeat and concluding that if he’d had a tail, he’d have been wagging it all over the place right now – and gave him a look. “Did something—”

“Yes!” he said. “Jackson called.”

“Okay,” you said, already having guessed that he might call, given the number of text messages you’d seen him send to Jaebum this morning. “What did he—”

“He said a representative of some entertainment agency had reached out to him. I don’t even know the label but Jackson does,” Jaebum continued, reading through your questions before you could finish asking them. Seeing him this energized with glee was, actually, slightly alarming. You could not deduce anything that he was going to say or do next. “Apparently, this representative would like to meet me face-to-face. They’re thinking of signing me.”

“They—” your eyes went wide. “Oh my God!”

“My point exactly!” he agreed, removing his hands from the wall on either side of you to clap them together. “I don’t—I didn’t even—shit, he said they contacted him last night but my phone was dying, so I didn’t get his call. But—fuck me, they want to meet me.”

“Shit,” you were laughing suddenly, your own anxiety long forgotten as your chest swelled with joy. “Jaebum, this is amazing. This is a huge step—no, a leap—towards becoming a real, actual singer. A-as a profession, not just a hobby.”

“I know,” his hands were on his cheeks as he turned around, walking a circle around the room due to his inability to stay still. “God, I know. I seriously can’t believe this.”

“You deserve this,” you reminded him, deciding to intervene and remove his hands from his face, taking them into yours instead, before he walked into a wall in this blind euphoria. “Did you agree on a date? When are you meeting these people?”

“I don’t know yet,” Jaebum replied. You may have stopped him from pacing around the room but his heart was very much still having a fieldtrip inside of his chest – it would have screamed, too, if only it could. “Jackson’s handling it. They just wanted to know if I’d be interested a-and now they know that I am—”

“How could you not be interested?” you cut him off and then realized, “unless you get a different offer.”

He shook his head. “Oh, no. This already doesn’t seem real. Another offer would mean I’ve entered a parallel universe where I’m actually, you know, lucky.”

“Luck has nothing to do with this,” you said, letting go of his hands and stepping closer to hug him instead. “It was pure talent. I’m so proud of you.”

“Shit,” he exhaled into your hair, wrapping his arms around your waist and staying still for a good minute before finally remembering, “fuck—h-how was your meeting? Did it go well?”

He’d pulled away to ask this – you wished he hadn’t because then he wouldn’t have seen your face as you lied to him. Telling him the truth was simply not an option after you’ve seen this side of him – this hopeful, overjoyed side of him that you were sure you’d only be lucky enough to witness once in your life.

“It was fine,” you said, choosing your words carefully but trying your best to sound realistic. You nodded for more effect, too, wanting to change the topic but deciding not to because Jaebum’s expectant eyes weren’t going to let you get away with it. “They’re, uh—they’re considering me. Some tough competition, probably. But the gallery’s wonderful, they gave me a tour.”

He nodded along to every word you said and you thanked his good mood for temporarily clouding his mind or else he would have seen through your fabricated smile immediately. You didn’t want him to know the truth – to know the lengths you’d have to go in order to make your dream come true – because his road to his goals wasn’t as complicated as yours was. He’d waited long enough to start his singing career but once he dared to take a step forwards, he found himself steady on his feet. His bravery was paying off.

You, on the other hand? Maybe you should have waited longer because the steps you’ve taken so far were minimal and so very shaky, it was a miracle you hadn’t fallen off the ledge yet.

“I’m sure you’ll hear from them again soon,” Jaebum told you, his voice genuine. You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach, the labels “failure” clouding your mind. He believed in you a lot more than you believed in yourself in that moment. “You simply have to. They can’t let someone like you go away.”

“I—” you started to say but Jaebum – his arms still around you – pulled you closer to him, prolonging the hug. His embrace made you forget what you were going to say. “Yeah. I hope they do.”

The only proof of the complicated situation you were in was the sigh that passed your lips but disappeared before Jaebum could feel it on his neck. Good. You didn’t want him to know about your own predicament. You didn’t want to rain on his parade – you knew how long he’d wanted this and how much courage it had taken for him to fight for it.

“This is finally working out,” he whispered into your neck. Your skin shivered but you didn’t think it was because his lips brushed against your neck with each word he spoke. “I’m so glad we’re in this together.”

“Jaebum,” you said shakily. You didn’t know why – it must have been your heart, seeking the comfort of his words, which it couldn’t get if Jaebum didn’t know the truth – and you regretted it as soon as his name escaped your lips.

Noticing the edge in your voice, he pulled away to look at you. “What?”

“I’m—” you swallowed, concealing that tears that had welled up in your eyes with a careful smile. You couldn’t do this. Shaking your head, you told him the honest truth, “I’m really glad you’re here with me.”

    chapter directory

[north-texas-madhatter]

Uncertain: That’s no deer my wife whispered…

As I listened intently peering off into the dark forest I told my wife, “It’s out there, it hasn’t left” She and the kids got up as we heard a twig snap. “Get the kids and get in the cabin”, I quietly whispered as I grabbed the shotgun from the trunk. I knew it was watching us, in the dark, maybe just as scared as I was – or maybe not.

Our family loves to travel and the more unusual the place the better. We love cabins and nature and beautiful back roads, lakes and forest. It was a cool crisp morning and we were loading up the car for another adventure. Don’t forget to put on some deodorant my wife reminds me, my daughter had complained that Papa David was kinda stinky. Which is true, I am a stinky smelly man and unfortunately for her she sits behind me in the backseat when we travel. “I will smell like roses”, I replied as I loaded the cooler of snacks with an assortment of drinks careful to put it equally in reach of all family members.

I was rummaging around in the garage trying to find all the items I had put on my trip list. The smell of moldy tarps, dust and an old bike tube hanging off a rack as I shuffled things back and forth. “I really need to organize this better” I thought to myself. Finally laying on the garage floor before me were, flashlights, medical kits, an assortment of fire starters, lanterns, two way radios, and an old box of shotgun shells that I had brought out from the house. I did a quick review of the list I had made the night before and checked off all the items but one. The shotgun. I didn’t like leaving anything like that just laying around.

The kids packed their backpacks with who knows what, some Go Fish and Old Maid card games were stuffed in the side pockets and the iPad’s fully charged for those moments where my wife and I would like to have a conversation without interruption. You parents know what I mean.

“What about Stella?” the kids asked. I had made sure to find lodgings that allowed pets so I said she is going with us. Stella had been sitting on her carpet anxiously watching us pack the car and, as if to know what I had said, began wagging her tail gleefully running back and forth to the door.

All packed up, everyone in the car, doors checked, thermo nuclear alarm system set, we began to back out of the driveway. “Oh wait!” I forgot something. Everyone letting out a sigh. Just like my parents when we would leave for our trans America trips, my dad would pull in and out of the driveway six times before we could finally depart. Turning off the alarm and unlocking all the doors I retrieved a large shotgun from the safe and walked back to the car checking it before placing it carefully in the trunk.

Off we go! And the kids yelled yay! immediately asking for their iPads. Our destination this time is a little town on the Caddo Lake called Uncertain. But we were in no hurry to get there as plenty of back wood roads were ahead of us.

Leaving the Dallas city limits always brings a sigh of relief, like escaping some kind of urban restraints. There is a Buccee’s ahead but I turn the car onto highway 80 heading through Terrell and then after a quick driving tour of a few historical neighborhoods we are headed out into the countryside.

“Look a tank!” the kids yelled. Small towns often have war relics as a showpiece for their local VFW’s (Veteran’s of Foreign Wars) which are like a club house for military service men and women to get together and have a drink, socialize or even hold events such as weddings or parties. We pulled into the parking lot and the kids ran toward the tank and a large caliber cannon. “Watch for snakes!” was the usual call out we made but it was cold enough that there were probably none around.

I hobbled over to the edge of a tank putting my hand on the corner to hold myself up. A car wreck and later a fall off an H post on our ranch years ago had left my back in a mess and driving takes its toll if I don’t stop and move around. As I stood there the kids climbed all over the tank turret and I could smell engine grease that must have been in this machine since WW2. Our mini-dachshund bounced over the grass fighting the leash my wife held tightly. An elderly couple emerged from one of the doors in the VFW and waved. I could see USS something written on the old man’s hat with a silhouette of a battleship. He reminded me of my grandfather who fought in the war. His white wavy hair, reading a newspaper. As a child I would sneak up and thump it and he would pretend to get up for a chase. After a brief break we yelled for the kids to get down and dust off as we all piled back in the car and headed on down the road.

My favorite thing to do is put in a destination on Google Maps and then pick all the different routes that will prevent me from merging onto a highway because highways are the enemy when it comes to adventure. You miss so much when you fly down a road at 70 plus mph. The orange, yellow and red leaves become a blur, the smell of the sweet pine needle lost in the soot of the diesel trucks. Give me the backroads, the curve of her body, the gentle sway of her hair. The dips, the hills, the smooth mirror like surface of the lake meeting the sky. Lazy fishing boats, their lines cast toward the setting sun.

It’s getting dark now as we roll into Jefferson, the sun’s rays beam through the magnolia trees and New Orleans styled patios. Porch lights dot the neighborhoods and a train can be heard rumbling on the tracks just outside of town, as we catch glimpses of the red blinking of the sentries through the dirty glass windows of vacant row houses.

For those of you unfamiliar with Jefferson. It is a unique Texas, town sitting in the shadow of Caddo Lake it was once a Texas port for steamboats arriving by way of the Mississippi and Red Rivers. The town is steeped in New Orleans styled architecture. Many goods and services were brought by paddleboat to the town from the coastal city and as with many towns of those times they had stories of hauntings. In fact Jefferson is home to one of the most haunted hotels in America, the towns namesake, The Jefferson Hotel. You can imagine the gas lamps flickering as a ghostly figure stands in the doorway. There is an old train car permanently stationed across the street and we release the kids to stretch their legs as we take a peak at the old hotel and adjacent coach car.

No offense to the paranormal enthusiasts but I have never been much of a believer in the other worldly but I do try to keep an open mind. Nevertheless, the whole town had a kind of creepy vibe at this time of day and there was this almost damp deathly smell as a light mist encroached on the lattice worked streets from the nearby swamps.

It was at this moment that I heard something. It was distant, like a low howl almost just outside of human hearing. I can’t quite explain it but though barely discernable it was not of the norm I would expect from the usual town and surrounding forest noises, but it demanded to be noticed if only subconsciously. “Did you hear that?” I asked my wife “Hear what?” she replied and I as quickly dismissed it to have been just some slight synaptic misunderstanding.

We drove around town for another half hour looking at all the beautiful old homes, brick streets and the docking area where paddleboats once delivered handlebar mustached men and parasol carrying ladies to horse drawn carriages idly standing by while French perfume fragrances purchased in the Big Easy filled the air.

Leaving Jefferson, Polk Street took us through the Big Cypress Bayou. Our surroundings were changing, Spanish moss was hanging from the trees now and I knew our cabin was not much farther away. We decided to take a slight detour and drive through Caddo Lake State Park. We giggled at the sign, Learn How to Survive Like a Sasquatch. And we noted all the wildlife, deer, birds and though we probably would not see any, alligator that live in this eco-system we had arrived to. The road then became darker, swamp waters came right up to the edge on both sides, the lake was up and we had entered a watery world that was quite foreign to us. In fact, we heard that the town was called Uncertain because when the lake floods no one is certain the town is still there.

It is small and looks like something out of a Stephen King novel. There is a short main street with a sundry of cabins anywhere from a mere shack to homes on stilts. There it is! Caddo Lake Cabins, just on the corner of Bois D Arc and Cypress Drive. There were two cabins side by side and ours was the larger with a screened in porch with the back of it to the forest and swamps. A stone throw away was Taylor Island which you would never know it was an island since the road extended to a dead end there. Fishing camps lined the edge and the smell of fish and beer filled the air.

“There’s a golf cart!”, the kids yelled. “Can we drive it!” Not tonight, it’s too dark and we need to get everything inside.

What we didn’t know is how ready we would be to leave…

The cabin was beautiful! It was very clean and had everything we needed. The screened porch overlooking the forest was a favorite for our dog Stella who incessantly sniffed the air. The cabin had a fresh cut wood and coffee smell to it as my wife opened the bag of black coffee grounds left by the owners for us to enjoy during our morning cup of joe. Outside we could hear owls hooting to one another and frogs serenading the cool crisp night as we brought in all our items for the stay. Blankies, stuffed animals, backpacks spilling open onto the bed as our kids claimed their living quarters. We couldn’t believe we had found such a wonderful place for such a reasonable price.

After unloading our gear and goodies we took a quick drive around town. It was eerily quiet, “They roll up the carpet early around these parts”, I said aloud. We could see yellow bulbs glowing behind closed curtains in the small cabins and homes up and down Cypress Drive, the main street of town. We caught glimpses of the moonlight reflecting off the bayou just beyond the cottages at the waters edge. “I hear they filmed parts of Universal Soldier and some swamp monster movie near here”, I said as the occupants of the car peered out the window. A few bumps in the road and we stopped short of a boat ramp leading into the lake. We sat there for a moment, next to us was a covered marina with little Jon Boats bobbing up and down, we could hear a dog barking off in the distance. “Well that’s it for this town”, I said. “Let’s head back and get some rest so we can get an early start tomorrow.” We had plans for the next day to drive into Louisiana and see where Bonnie and Clyde met their end at the hands of Frank Hamer and local law enforcement and to possibly explore a very unusual area that I had found while researching our trip on Google Maps.

My wife and I laid in bed, it was close to 11pm and after talking about the trip and our plans for the next day we began to drift off to sleep. Suddenly the night was split open as an extremely loud air horn blasted. “What the Hell is that!” I jumped up out of bed and ran to the window. It sounded as if a train might drive right through the cabin! Looking out the window I could only see night. There were no headlights, no trains or trucks – nothing. Just the echo of the loud piercing horn fading into the forest. My wife walking back to bed after checking on the kids asked, “What do you think that was all about?” “I don’t know but I didn’t see any train tracks that close to us.” “It was almost like it was to scare something away or sounded as a warning.” The odd thing was no one was coming out of their dwellings to check out the mysterious sound. It was accepted as a normal occurrence it seemed. It set me on edge but I finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning we opened the bag of coffee grounds and my wife walked out onto the porch handing me a fresh mug with steam rising from it. I never really liked coffee until I married my wife and now it is so nice when we can just sit and talk between sips of the black stuff. The kids were still asleep and Stella sniffed around the edges of the porch. “Something must have come close last night, she seems really curious”, my wife pointed out. Stella was really picking up on a scent near the screen door. “Maybe she needs a restroom break” as my wife went off to retrieve the harness and leash.

Stella pulled hard at the leash. She is never like this, usually just sniffing and stopping and then sniffing some more before finally answering to the call of nature but this time she strained at the end of the leash. My wife looked back at me as Stella pulled her across the lawn toward the woods behind the cabin. She is onto something. Maybe a deer? She growled but then after a moment retreated back to the cabin managing a tinkle on the way. We didn’t think much of it and knew that being surrounded by nature and forest there was bound to be some curious creatures lurking about.

After breakfast we all jumped in the car and headed out. Fishermen were already making their way into the bayou, wisps of smoke from their engines lazily floating across the water. There was a slight mist to the morning air and everything was damp from the night fog that the sun now began to burn through. The smell of eggs and bacon filled our noses as the town began its slow start to the day. After a bumpy drive through town, we turned onto a smooth black top road heading toward Louisiana. Shortly down the road we arrived to a small town named Karnack, it looked very run down but “This is where Lady Bird Johnson grew up” I exclaimed, no one in the car knew who that was so I explained that she was the First Lady and wife of President Lyndon B. Johnson. She is responsible for the beautification of our Texas Highways and for the seeding of the wildflowers and bluebonnets we see along the roadsides in the Spring. Her husband, LBJ, is responsible for The Grasslands we enjoy having our campfires at, not far from our hometown of Denton.

The air had an acrid smell to it and we could see large gates that led into the vast forested area I had seen on Google Maps. It looked like there had been a large town there once with roads crisscrossing one another in an organized grid with streets called 4th Street, Avenue C, 59th and Starr Ranch Road. Structures could still be seen peeking out behind the forest.

“Hey guys!” that is where we will explore later if we have time on our way back. We were very excited and off we went!

It didn’t seem long before we pulled under the overhang of the Horseshoe Casino. My wife and son walked in just to take a look while my daughter stayed behind with me. From the car I could see the beautiful chandelier that hung over the lobby. Many times, I had walked underneath it with my dad as we arrived for games of Black Jack while sitting on the banks of The Red River in Bossier City. There is some obscure law that I still don’t quite understand, where as long as the casino is on or over the Red River it is allowed to operate. The hotel, restaurants and parking areas can be on land but the games of chance themselves had to be over the rivers muddy red water. This is accomplished by river boat or barge permanently docked and anchored with vast poles that allow the casino to move up or down depending on the rivers height and water flow.

Shreveport was on the West side of the river and Bossier City on the East side. I had to laugh when I saw a Pipes Emporium on “Stoner” Avenue. Though I do not partake in the herbage myself I have been in my share of head shops, they sell the best incense, and the irony was not lost on me by the name of the street. By the way they don’t like it when you ask for a bong, they want you to call it by its legal name, a water pipe. Though they are technically the same thing and no difference to those visiting Pipes Emporium on Stoner for all their smoke shop needs.

Barksdale Air Force Base was to our left now and we could see war planes sitting idly on the tarmac. We headed back into the forested roads of Louisiana. An hour later and a vacant road would find us in front of one of America’s most notorious landmarks. The location where the famous outlaw couple, Bonnie & Clyde, were dispatched. One could almost smell the gun powder as Frank Hamer and his posse laid in wait raining down a wall of bullets onto the unsuspecting duo. An informant had tipped off Frank and his group of law men that they would be travelling on that road and a trap was set. The friend turned snitch pretended to be broken down on the side of the road and as Bonnie and Clyde slowed their car to assist, they were gunned down leaving their car peppered with holes and their limp bodies slumped in the car.

There are several cars claiming to be the famous death wagon. One is at Whiskey Pete’s Hotel and Casino in Primm, Nevada and another, not far from Dallas, owned by a little known body shop in Gunter, Texas. My son and I have seen it and it looks as real as any car shot full of holes would look sans the blood and other gore.

After finishing our visit to the markers that commemorated the death of the outlaws while praising the men who made it happen, we turned back out onto the road. A rusty colored pickup whizzed by startling me as I had grown accustomed to the lack of vehicular traffic in this area of backwoods LA. With the tires throwing some gravel behind us we were back on the blacktop making a circle around to the highway that would take us toward our temporary home back in the town of Uncertain but not before at least one last adventure to end the day with…

We passed through the gates, they weren’t like the gates at the State Parks we were accustomed to visiting. These looked a bit more foreboding. A small building was on our right that I imagine served as a visitor’s center. There was not a soul around. The town of Karnack was just behind us as we drove on down the road. I could hear the tires passing through bits of loose asphalt. The whole place seemed to be a maze of roads separated by tall pine trees. Here and there we could catch a glimpse of concrete structures long fallen out of use. It gave me an uneasy feeling like we were not supposed to be there. But what was eerie was that it was so quiet. I heard few if any birds. No other persons or wildlife was in the park. The streets were named as if it were a bustling downtown metropolis but nothing much was to be seen except for the stately conifers that surrounded us. It reminded me of that scene out of The Shining where the boy is being chased through a labyrinth. Except there was no snow and no deranged lunatic chasing us, at least none that we saw.

Driving on we were amazed at how large this place was, it was more than a Nature Preserve and we would run into road after road that would have barriers or warning signs that the road was off limits. We finally found the Starr Ranch Road that led us to the edge of Rag Island and a lonely boat launch. Here there was another structure, more welcoming. It looked like something that might be used for family gatherings and was screened in to protect guests from the swarms of mosquitoes that I am sure inhabited these areas in the summertime. We jumped out and the kids threw rocks into the water nearby. The Cypress Trees were beautiful, one of my favorite trees. My wife found an internet connection and we looked up the area that we were in. It was the Caddo Lake National Wildlife Refuge. Once home to the Longhorn Army Ammunition Plant. That explains all those little buildings. It was part of an 8,493 acre facility that once produced dynamite, 393,000,000 pounds of it during World War II. It was also a super fund site for all the chemicals that were still present in the soil. “Uh, kids put down those rocks and don’t stir up the dust” I quickly told them. Lead and mercury was still being found in some of the areas and a large compound fence ran along the perimeter of the entire plant. It was sprawling to say the least and with good reason, two in fact. One to help prevent an enemy bombing run from destroying the entire operation and to prevent an errant accident from killing everyone in sight. A rail system helped connect the different parts of the plant delivering the product as it was developed to other areas for assembly. Things like this fascinate me. It is a dark part of history, the entire location was set aside for one purpose and one purpose only, to kill as many people as possible and at that time to kill Nazi Germans. But National Wildlife Refuge makes it sound much more appealing for today’s visitors, just don’t drink the water – or play in the sand or expect to see much wildlife.

It took a while to get back to the main road. The GPS was on the blink because we were pretty remote but after a few wrong turns we made a right and we were headed back out the gates, which made much more sense now.

Everyone’s stomach was beginning to grumble, and it wasn’t long before we arrived back in Uncertain. My wife asked what we should do for dinner and I told her that I had heard of a good fish place that wasn’t too far from the cabin. I could really use a Fried Shrimp Po Boy right now and the kids really wanted some Calamari, if it were available. It was evening and it would be dark soon. A few people were stirring about while we drove back through town but things looked like they were beginning to button up. “Can I go with you Papa David?” my daughter asked. I said sure. My wife and son decided that they would stay behind and get a fire going in the fire ring just outside the cabin. So I left them the axe as my daughter and I jumped in the car.

We arrived at The RiverBend Restaurant which was up on stilts and I slowly climbed the stairs as my daughter ran up the ramp ahead of me. The drive had done a number on my back and I was paying for it now. Holding the door for me I gave my girl a hug and told her to, “stay close”. We ordered take out and it wasn’t long before two bags of great smelling seafood were sitting on the counter for the taking. It was hard not to help ourselves to the appetizers but out of politeness, on my daughters’ part, we managed to get back to the cabin only eating a few fries.

Pulling up into the gravel drive we opened the car doors to the sweet smell of pine wood smoke. The sun was going down quickly behind the swampy forest and rays of light were playfully dancing between the trees. My wife took the food inside for plating as I sat down next to the warm fire. “Did you start this?” I asked my son. “Yes and I cut most of the wood too!” My wife soon came out with all the food and handed each of us a plate. I stuck a hush puppie in one of the small tubs of butter and swirled it around, the pickled tomatoes were next in line for a tasting. Finally finishing the Po Boy and everyone filled on some of the best calamari we have had, either because it was really that good or we were just that hungry.

Filled and happy we sat listening to the fire crackle with pops here and there as the small pockets of resin would catch to the fire. Stella was in my arms and quite content as she had sneaked a few pieces of scraps from the meal.

Then it happened.

Stella’s hair bristled and stood straight up on the back of her neck. She had this low treacherous growl that I had never heard her make before. I quickly held her tight as not to allow her to launch herself into the inky night. She was staring down the road toward Taylor Island. Something was moving slowly off to the left of the road. I could just barely see a dark figure. I thought it might be a fisherman or someone who had a few drinks but the left of the road was swamp, so it didn’t make much sense why someone would be walking through the muck. I could barely make out the silhouette but could see it was larger than your normal average man. It was gone in an instant, disappearing into the darkness.

“Shhhhh…” “Listen” my wife quietly spoke.

Not less that 50 feet from us was the edge of the woods. The closest trees illuminated by the orange flames of our fire. I could hear it. “What is it?”, my wife asked in a voice so quiet I could barely hear her question. We both knew this was not a typical woodland creature or bunny rabbit. It sounded huge! And this was not a forest that one could easily navigate. It was filled with briars, an old barbed wire fence, swamps and decaying logs laying all around ready to trip the ill prepared.

“It’s, its… yes. It’s definitely on two feet” my wife said. We both tried to imagine the size and dimensions of this unwelcome visitor that was coming way to close for our comfort. “Are you sure?” Could it be a deer, I quietly mouthed as both our children, our dog and each of us squinting our eyes as if that could give us super human vision. My son was mid swing with the axe frozen in his stance. “Put the axe down behind the tree” I told him. I didn’t want a mishap. He laid it down out of the way and moved over toward his sister and momma. It had stopped for a moment but now to my horror it was closer, we could hear it walking through a small creek not that far off into the woods. It stopped just short of walking into our field of vision. We sat there for what felt like an eternity not quite certain what to do.

That’s no deer my wife whisperered…

As I listened intently peering off into the dark forest I told my wife, “It’s out there, it hasn’t left” She and the kids got up as we heard a twig snap. “Get the kids and get in the cabin”, I quietly whispered as I grabbed the shotgun from the trunk.

“Lock the door” I quietly shouted as I raised the butt of the gun up to my shoulder. I positioned myself just beyond the fire leaning up against the back of a tree. “Who’s out there?”, I shouted. “Who are you and what do you want?” I spoke as the frost of my breath spilled out onto the night.

Silence… we stood there for maybe 10 or 15 minutes. I listened straining to hear anything, breathing, footsteps, a voice, even a heart beating but the only one I could hear was mine.

Oh my God. It sounded like a thousand trumpeters accompanied by a chorus of a thousand more angry elephants. But it wasn’t coming from in front of me. It was coming from beyond where our dog Stella had first been ready to attack. A twig snapped and then the large beast ran through the woods at a speed so fast it was inhuman, I am not saying that it seemed inhuman – I am telling you it was not human. And it was not like anything else I had ever heard. Running full sprint it ran toward the sound, splashing through the swamp. PEOPLE CANNOT POSSIBLY RUN THIS WAY! I thought to myself. I followed it with my gun, my finger feathering the trigger. I hurt, I hurt all over. The blood was ripping through my veins at lightning speed. I knew whatever this thing was if it were to get to me it was big enough to rip me to pieces and the only thing between me and it was a shotgun slug and my poor aim.

But then it was gone. I could hear it splashing off through the swamps until it was no more.

I threw open the door, my eyes wide, letting out a few expletives that I had to explain to our children not to repeat.

“Did you see it, did you SEE it!!!” my wife exclaimed. “No but I heard it” we all did. And then came the realization.

“Honey – there is only one way out for those things”, I said. “The direction they headed - it’s a dead end.”

A bead of sweat began to slide down the ice-cold beer glass I had sitting in front of me. My friend by the same name placed it there enticing me to continue with my story. David was an old friend I had recently reconnected with. We met when I first started riding motorcycles years back. He has a quick smile with a thin but muscular frame and the kind of rugged weathered look of a man who had done real work and become wise during hard times. I would often drop by his house and watch him tinker with different motorcycle parts on his work bench in the evenings.

David now leaned back in his chair, one hand casually on the arm of a steel wire patio chair while taking a sip of beer with the other. He and I both had given up sport bikes but found we shared an enjoyment in kayaking. He was an avid fisherman and a relatively new but informed convert to the world of cryptozoology due to more than one experience that he had in the North Texas area. One of the events not far from where we sat now.

“So then what happened?” David said with a spark of interest in his eye…

Well we wanted to leave, I will tell you that! My wife said load the car but I said “Hell no! I’m not going back out there with those things running about.” I believe I had a convincing argument that we were better inside with a gun than running back and forth to the car in the dark. But I still wasn’t sure what it was. I was still in the mindset that it might be a common animal to the area, possibly a black bear? I had heard that there had been a bear sighting north of the area but much farther north than would allow for the excuse of a chance encounter. I grabbed my phone, connected to the WiFi and started searching Google for bear sightings in the area. As I scrolled through the listings the word Sasquatch caught my eye. I found nothing that convinced me that there were bears near us but finding an article of two young ladies sighting a beast run in front of their car headlights caused me to let out an audible gasp. “What, what did you find?” my wife asked. I looked at the location of the sighting and then pulled up Google Maps. “Oh Holy Hell!” I blurted out. My wife was becoming a little annoyed now. “What did you find!” – There have been apparently Big Foot sightings less than a quarter mile from our cabin, several of them. Also, whatever it was seemed to have an intelligence that a bear doesn’t exhibit to my knowledge. We both would normally laugh at anyone mentioning Big Foot encounters, waiving it off as a few beers too many or a highly imaginative mind. But it was looking more and more like we had just joined the Yeti Club ourselves. But why were they behind our cabin we wondered. There had to be a reason they were venturing so close.

I pulled up Google Maps. I am not a hunter myself, but I understand success is greater when one knows where the animal is coming from and where it is going and finding the trail it travels. I would think even Big Foot would move with a purpose and be a creature of habit. Just up the road, between our cabin and the location where the young women had their sighting, was a trail that ended at the asphalt. Tracing it back it went deep into an old growth forest. I can understand why Sasquatch would want to avoid walking down the side of a road but why would they be cutting behind our cabin?

Just then, we could see some lights from a car moving slowly down the road. It pulled off to the side, and as if it sighted something, sped off and left town! “Well that’s not good.” I said aloud. “They are making their way through the woods back to the trail” I guessed. Looking at Taylor Island it suddenly became clear to me. “Honey, I got it!” “They were going out for dinner” Look here… There were a row of cabins dotting the shore along the bayou, all of them fishing cabins. And what do fisherman do at the end of the day? Clean the fish and throw the scraps in the garbage. Our furry friends were cutting behind our cabins hoping to quietly make their way to their meals, undetected through the woods and swamp. The smell of our fish dinner earlier may have given one of them pause to investigate. The other calling out when their dinner date fell behind. “I wonder if there is a dating app for Yeti’s”, we laughed.

But it was still a reach. I am a skeptic and a person of science. I must see it to believe it and so far, I really had not seen anything. I had a hypothesis but no hard evidence, as is the case with many of these encounters.

David was now leaning in closer. A slightly buzzed college girl bumped our table as she and her friends passed by. The beers sloshed and she put her hand on David apologizing “I am soooo sorry”. We smiled, we were two older guys hanging out at a college bar, mainly because the beer was cheap but David had become a favorite of the establishment. The bartenders knew his drink, girls and guys would walk over and say hello and introduce their friends saying, “This is David” as if he was the Godfather of Fry Street. I was amongst royalty, I laughed. But he does have this charm about him that makes you feel, important and it seemed we had much in common besides just our name.

That night would be our last night in Uncertain, my wife and I laid with one eye open. The kids were tucked away and sleeping soundly but I kept the gun close and double checked all the window and door locks, as if a Yeti is going to bother with a doorknob or window latch. The names are interchangeable, Sasquatch, Yeti, Big Foot, Big Fluffy Fur Ball. One in the same to me. I would call it a friend if it shared its beer. But it appeared that they really didn’t want anything more to do with us than we did with them. They moved quietly through the forest, even in the moonlight they were still too camouflaged to be seen. Anything moving through those woods would have to have thick fur or hair and as it was, we could only see a few feet into the abyss. Miles and miles of forest and swamp only interrupted by an occasional thin dark ribbon of road. I wanted to see them, I wanted to know if they were real but did I really? It would possibly drive me mad.

Looking at David he asked, “So do you believe?” “Well”, I said “I am still a little skeptical but I am more of a believer now than I was before” He looked at me excitedly as if he wanted to tell me something that had been on his chest. “I don’t tell too many people this anymore but…” David leaned back in his chair, took a drink of his beer and his expression changed to one of seriousness as he said, “I had an experience myself not far from here, where Clear Creek meets the Trinity River on the edge of town”

David and I met years ago when I first started riding sport bikes. I had started on a small Ninja 250 and on my first evening in the parking lot of Mack Park Apartments had thrown the bike in the air by popping the clutch too soon. I held on for dear life and rode that bike like it was a bucking bronco. It was three days before I worked up enough courage to get back on it. Then one evening I managed to drive it to Fry Street. I pulled up in front of a local bar and grill called Cool Beans. David was there and asked me how I liked the bike, possibly sensing that I was still a greenhorn and having chicken strips on my tires, a sport bike term meaning that I had not leaned enough into turns to scuff the sides. Some seasoned riders would not even ride with you if you had chicken strips because you were likely to panic and cause an accident. But David is one of the coolest, most laid-back guys I know and always willing to help someone out.

After a burger and finishing off his drink David said, “Come on – Let’s go, I am going to teach you a few things” We jumped on our bikes and I followed him to a parking lot on the north edge of town called Stonehill Center. I followed him around the parking lot and imitated his moves. Cutting too sharp would cause me almost to fall and I soon learned by giving it a little more gas and leaning into the turn I had much more control of the bike. David slowed his bike and I pulled up beside him, his bike sounded like a beast and he now yelled over it saying, “I think you are ready for something a little more fun!” I followed him out of the parking lot and turned to the right. We then launched into what he called the twisties. The sharp turns that go up and over and then down and around the 288 overpass at I35. He would be two twisties ahead of me and have to slow his ride for me to catch up but I was getting the hang of it. I learned the art of counter steering and leaning low while giving the bike more gas so that it would do all the work while navigating the turns with more speed.

David now leaned toward me, the beer nearly knocking over as he grabbed it with an almost unnatural speed. “Listen, people don’t take me that seriously when I tell them about my encounter, but you seem to understand better than most” David said, now with a slightly wilder look in his eyes. He went on to tell me his story. He had been scoping out a fishing spot not far from the Clear Creek Natural Heritage Center just outside of Denton. It had rained the night before, a light cloud of fog still hung over the valley as he trudged through the mud with his fishing gear in tow. Then he noticed something strange, footprints. These were larger than your average human footprint and did not have the defining indention of the arch. They were more blocked and wider, almost padded looking. Like my experience, seeing a Sasquatch was really not on his mind as he walked along with the tracks. What was curious was why would anyone be barefoot this far out in a creek that might have an errant piece of glass or sharp stone. The tracks looked fresh and then suddenly veered off to the left up an embankment and into the woods. Standing there wondering how anyone would want to venture into a remote area and barefoot off a path was beyond him. Then he realized he was not alone. A noise in the distance caught his attention. He heard a thud, then another, then a loud crack as if a large branch had been snapped in half. Whatever was in the woods with him was now striking the side of a tree with the branch obviously trying to scare him off. I asked him, “How close were you to the Trinity?” “Not far at all” he replied. “What did you do?” I excitedly said. I could see he was still somewhat shaken just discussing the event. “Well, honestly, I was terrified being alone in the woods with something that could snap large branches, I left as fast as I could!” he said nervously.

As with many encounters, it happens quickly and is an assault on the senses as you become very aware that you may be in danger. Your sight, hearing, reasoning all seems heightened but so is your fear, as adrenaline courses through your body. Psychologists call this a fight or flight response as your brain tries to figure out whether you are in immediate danger and should fight off your attacker or whether you can escape your assailant and run to safety. Police Officers know this as “adrenaline dump” that they try to fight off so that it does not impair their judgement leading to success or tragedy when dealing with dangerous situations. In this case, David made the right decision by leaving the area but, much like my own event, he had an overwhelming curiosity. We would return to look for more footprints after a rain but finding nothing but baby wild pig hoof prints, we decided the mother hog was more a threat than any Yeti. Funny how he picked me, a slow, broken backed friend over others. Maybe it is true – you don’t have to run fast just faster than the slowest guy.

I would later read about a possible sighting called the pecan creek monster that was spotted by some kids in Denton near a wooded area. It upset the town so much that they launched a search team that found nothing. There have been other events along the greenbelt near Denton where kayakers hauling their kayaks around a raft of river logs would stumble across large tracks, much like what David had described. But no story was more convincing than the one I would hear from a water treatment worker while researching Clear Creek for kayaking. And his story helps put together some of the pieces as why these things are so often encountered near bodies of water and their clever methods for obtaining a free meal.

I poured over the maps following the long slivers of silver that were the creeks and water ways of Denton County. The two kayaks hanging in our garage longed to be sitting in water. I also love taking our kids creek walking. But before touching the water I want to know where it comes from. In some cases, we have found beautiful streams of clear water to be outflows from local sewage plants. It is treated but who wants to swim, wade or kayak in that! Clear Creek is no exception.

The headwaters of Clear Creek start in Montague County not far from St, Jo Texas once called Head of Elm. There is a lot of history here. Not far away Outlaw Nancy Hill was hung on Denton Creek. Belle Starr, Sam Bass, Jesse James and The Younger Gang all roamed these hills and a town of frontier men and women were scalped alive and killed by Indians where remnants of the ghost town still stand to this day. The Chisholm and Butterfield Stagecoach Trails also crisscross in the fields now occupied by barbed wire and grazing cattle.

Now I looked for all the water crossings, bridges, natural outcroppings. I squinted to see strainers where trees had fallen across the creek becoming a hazard to the lone kayaker. Much like the author of a favorite book of mine, Goodbye to a River, I wanted to know the history of the land my river would take me through. The souls that had walked here before me that had caressed her hills and valleys and lived off her fertile soil.

In my quest to know more I spoke with Fish and Game Wardens and eventually a man who oversaw the a nearby Waste Water Treatment Plant. I had been told that there were a couple of instances where sewage had flowed into Clear Creek but that millions of dollars had been spent updating the facilities. I asked him if he was concerned at all about the water quality. He told me that he lived on Clear Creek and he fishes the creek all the time, in fact he has trotlines that he tends, and his family frequently eats the fish they catch. It was convincing but finding where the inflow was at Ranger Branch, a creek that dumped into Clear Creek, I decided that anything farther up was safe as safe can be and this is where I would find the most enjoyment in water activities free from pee water.

We were just about to hang up when I asked him, “Doesn’t Clear Creek run into the Trinity?” He replied, “Yes it does, it runs through the Nature Center and connects just on the other side, we used to fish there”. With this I could not help but to gleefully ask him, “So, have you ever experienced anything unusual there?” This question was met with a long pause from an otherwise vocal man. “What exactly do you mean by unusual?” he finally replied.

The tone of the conversation changed as he told me that he hadn’t made a lot of talk about it in a long time. “We fished that area a lot when we were younger and before the greenbelt trail was cut through for joggers and cyclists.” He went on to explain how he and two other friends had gone as far as they could by pickup bouncing over fields and through washes to where they would disembark grabbing fishing poles and a cooler to hopefully keep the catch of the night. Still rubbing their eyes from the dust, they set off toward their destination. It was there a whirlpool would form during spring floods that would carve out a large hole where many fish would congregate. This is the place my friend David had been in search of when he had his encounter.

“It was late, maybe two in the morning, maybe three…” His voice becoming more ominous. “We had a pretty good haul and were just about to call it a night when suddenly we heard a crashing noise coming through the woods on the other side of the river.” he said as I held the receiver closer to my ear and adjusted the volume to high. “It was loud and it sounded big but it wasn’t a deer or a pig, it sounded taller, like it was running full sprint -- on two feet” I was almost incredulous at how similar his description was to my families own encounter and the one that my friend David had described. “It was running straight towards us but then suddenly, as if it knew we were there, veered off to the right and went upriver.”

“What did you do?”, I excitedly asked.

“We sat there, we didn’t even talk to each other we were so quiet listening for it” “It was scary but at least it was on the other side of the river” his voice said through some slight static on the phone. “Then we heard a splash and to our terror it swam across the river and that is when we knew we were really up shit creek!” (pun intended; cause well you know)

“We were terrified, whatever it was, it made it’s way down toward us through the woods and then just stopped.” He paused for a moment as if the memory of the event was almost too much for him. Me, on the other hand, I was on pins and needles. “What then?” I asked. “It was watching us, we couldn’t see it but we knew it was just standing there in the woods and it was larger than any of us – we got the Hell out of there, we even left the cooler behind full of fish.” “Whatever that SOB thing was got a belly full that night on our dime, that’s for sure!”

“People think I am crazy when I tell this story, so I just stopped telling it” His voice, a traitor, as it gave up his shaken nerves. “They are smart, and they are out there… you just won’t see them.”

About once every week or two after the kids go to sleep and my wife settles on the couch to watch a favorite show I go for a drive. It’s 30 minutes to the bend in the road that brings me closest to where our furry friend might be. I sit quietly listening, the familiar click click click as I load my .45 Single Action Colt, setting it beside me just in case a possible encounter becomes more than a fishing trip. Greeted by fireflies and the usual chilled mist the river bottoms bring, I drive slowly to the dead end where I always wonder whose land it might be. Then on back to home… I want to believe because it is so intriguing but other than a few hogs moving close to the road to give me a quick doubletake I am left with more questions than answers. But then, as it happens with everything you search for, I saw something I can’t take back. A glimpse but it was just enough.

I was still interested in finding a location for an easy put-in for kayaking the upper Clear Creek. Pouring over online maps I realized just how few places there are to access and enjoy our waterways. Most of the creeks and rivers pass through private land. Many may be navigable legally but getting to them without trespassing is another thing. One must then find and visit the few bridges that may pass over the waterway and a lot are difficult to get a kayak to, either because they are high cliffs or covered in poison ivy, trees, thickets and briar or the access is blocked by barbed wire or no trespassing signs that are debatable since it is a roadway easement.

I found several bridges I wanted to check out and I asked my son if he wanted to go. He had been on his technology and a drive with his dad would be a good break from the screen time that had consumed all his Saturday morning. So, we jumped in the car and I punched in the coordinates on the digital map.

I had not driven these backroads before and was glad to find a new place to explore. Texas is amazing for the change of scenery that can be found with just a few turns and twists in the road. Coming over a hill we looked out over the vast rolling plains of North Texas. A slight haze was settled over the prairies and I could see for miles and miles. Traveling the one lane roads were my favorite way to get away from the hustle and bustle of town. Except for an old dusty pickup squeaking by us, we seemed to be the only ones in the area. We arrived at the first bridge and we peered over the edges looking down on the pristine waters of Clear Creek. Being native to Texas, I have become accustomed to muddy creek waters and lakes, a mystery to what laid beneath. But this creek in many areas had a white sandy bottom that helped filter the water as it ran through its valleys. Little wavy sand dune looking structures could be seen just beneath the shimmering waters and fish darted here and there somehow aware of our presence, looking for a place to hide. I was excited to see a USGS water flow measuring device, which meant I could look it up online to find the best time to kayak based on the current flow rate. But I was disheartened to see a raft of debris on either side of a steep slope which would make it difficult to traverse with a kayak. It could be done but I was looking to find that one sweet spot to easily slide my kayak in across the sands and a safe place off road to park.

After throwing a few rocks and a few yells to check for an echo, my son and I loaded back into the car driving off the blacktop onto the gravel road. Around a corner we saw an old abandoned frontier looking home that must have been there for over one hundred years. Very little was back in this area but the gravel road looked to be used by a few ranchers tending to their cattle. We were looking for the end of the road where we thought there might be access to a bend in the creek. On the map we could see the road narrow and looking overgrown but ending at the waters edge. With the gravel clicking beneath our tires and the sound of cicadas all around we could smell the creek and the vegetation in the valley. Fresh cut grass filled the air and the sound of a lawn mower could be heard just ahead. We rolled to a stop at a gate with a big red sign that said No Trespassing. To the right of us was a log home and an older man who now cut the gas to his mower as he walked our way. He had a curious look in his eye and his skin had a leathered appearance from all the sun that he had seen while bailing hay in the fields above. “What ya’ll looking for?”, he said as he spat on the ground. “Well we are just taking a country drive and trying to find an easy way to Clear Creek”, I said with a kind of questioning nod towards the gate ahead. He spat again and said that was once a way to Clear Creek but the bridge washed out many years ago and the land was now owned and private. I told him I understood but before I could say anything else, he started coming closer to the car. I could see the butt of a gun sticking out of his pocket and as I smiled I slowly and quietly placed my hand on the 10mm Springfield that was tucked away just inside my door, but my son was between us and it was not an ideal situation for a shootout if things went raw.

He put his hand on the top of the car and squatted down a little looking at me with a squint in his eye. “We don’t get many people this far back” “In fact I haven’t seen a stranger in quite a while” he said as I now imagined this was going to end somewhere between The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Deliverance. “Well God finds angels amongst the forgotten” I replied, which caught him off guard a bit. He stood up and smiled as he turned back toward his mower. Waving us off as he walked, he said something peculiar “Ya’ll be careful on that creek” and then he pulled the cord and the mower turned over on the first try. I was impressed with his stature for a man his age, obviously hard work had left him in better shape than most who retire in those golden years.

We turned the car around and went on back down the road that we came. The frontier home made sense, as it stood on land that had probably been in the old man’s family for years, possibly at or before the formation of Texas. We were now back on the black top when I noticed a small trail that I had not seen on our first passing. Just before the bridge I could see where the grass had been laid down. It was getting close to dark and the suns cap was just now resting at the edge of the fields. The cicadas had quieted, and I thought I would take one more look before we headed back home. “Stay in the car, I won’t be but just a minute” I told my son as I stepped out.

Walking up to the concrete railing I put my hand on the dusty side. The fish had not seen me this time and I could just barely make out their outlines in the water. But something felt different. There was a slight smell beyond the usual humid vegetation and earthy aromas. It didn’t quite stink but it was rather unpleasant. Suddenly the wind picked up just as it does before a front comes through. The dust from the bridge was swept into my left eye and I yelled back at my son to roll up the car windows as I poured some water from my water bottle to nurse it. Before he could get his window up we could hear a noise in the woods. It sounded like something cracking. I was thinking possibly a tree limb was about to come down from the sudden high winds. But as I wiped the water from my eyes, I could see the smaller trees that grow along the banks parting. “Papa David, what was that?” my son yelled. “Nothing son, don’t get out of the car --- stay in the car!” I looked further down the bank and could see something moving quickly through the bushes and trees, throwing them aside. It was dark now, but I thought I could see patches of brown hair but then it stopped and quickly turned. I saw an eye, just the eye through a mass of vegetation and shadows. It looked at me and for that moment, I understood. This was a creature with intelligence. It stood there and then as quickly turned away melting into the forest and then the all too familiar splashing of a creature with two feet running. The memory of our encounter at Uncertain came back to me but this time I was more curious than scared. But my son was with me and I could not take any risks. Driving slowly by the fresh trail I felt more like I had interrupted someone’s fishing rather than having an actual encounter with a terrifying beast, in fact, maybe the beast that was so terrifying was actual me.

I heard the phone vibrate on the nightstand, I grabbed it and thumbed in the pass code after the facial recognition failed, probably because it wasn’t used to my face without a beard.

It was my friend David; I had texted him and asked him how his trip to Colorado had been. He was now in town drinking with some local cowboys and I could just imagine his easy laugh as he listened to their stories and shared a few of his own. The subject would come around to fishing, which is one of the great American pass times, especially in the mountain towns. Jokingly, I wrote him “Any squatches?” and now I stared at the screen as the text popped up “Got surrounded…”

David had gone to Colorado in search of the Golden Trout but had lucked out on the six lakes he had visited. However, one of the lakes was quite remote. He had driven off-road as far as his 4x4 could take him and parked it. Then throwing his gear on his back and securing his Sig he headed out on foot toward a destination with no trail. Hiking several miles through the forest he could see through the trees, the waters of Golden Lake. After setting his gear down where he would spend the night, he decided to wet a hook as he cast his line. To David fishing is not just an excuse for a beer and a bobber but an art form. He is a true fisherman, a hunter, willing to go further to find his prey. There is something primordial about catching and eating a fish. It is what sustained the earliest humans and allowed us to travel over large distances by creeks and rivers that are the veins of this great land. A good fishing spot is coveted by the fisherman and is often a carefully guarded secret to maintain one’s connection of self with nature, absent of interruption.

Now, as David explained, in digital format, he had just gotten back to camp and started a fire when he heard a knock in the woods, the same as before during his encounter on Clear Creek. He listened, everything in the forest that far out is crisp and clear. There is no other noise pollution such as highway sounds and the constant buzz of city life. It is just you, the wind and whatever that stirs in the darkness.

He sat there crouching; his ear cocked to one side as he stoked the fire prepping for an evening’s meal. And then another one! Closer this time but too the East of camp, where the other one had been across the lake to the North. This was not just a coincidental limb falling, it was intentional. He sat motionless, alone and miles from any civilization. I asked him what he did then? He wrote back, “I was terrified!” “There was no trail to this lake, I should have known better”, he admitted. I asked him if there was any way it could have been a bear, but he said that there was a third knock to the West of camp and it appeared that they were either communicating or trying to scare him. He decided that there was nothing he could do and was resolved to make dinner, build the fire higher and keep his Sig close but out of sight. His lacking in aggressive posturing is what he believes may have saved him. “So will you go back?” I asked him. “Not alone” I took this as a possible invitation to a Sasquatch hunt to be considered for later.

Now, I sit in my car with the windows down, a thud from a small branch landing on the roof of my SUV startles me as I listen to the night sound of distant howls trumpeting. If you ask me if I believe in Sasquatch I will flash you a slight smile and tell you that I am Uncertain. But what I am certain of, is that at the end of this road that I am parked, sits one of the scariest abandoned houses I have ever seen. And that might be the making of a story for another time… [The End]

Uncertain Video: https://youtu.be/Toi4b6zzbkA

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[wittyy-name]

Hey, Wittyy, do you have any tips on planning a dnd campaign? Especially as a first timer. Advice? Lifehacks? Warnings? (to clarify first timer, i know a lot about dnd and even read some worldbuilding guides but I'm not sure if they're working for me, maybe you have a little different, unique approach to planning process?)

This ended up being a very long post about me rambling about my experience world building my first campaign, so I’m just gonna slap it under a cut lol

Idk how much advice I can give?? I’m running my first long term campaign and kinda just flying by the seat of my pants at this point. World building is a PAIN and it can be hella frustrating, but it’s also kinda rewarding?? And I have experience with it from writing stories that definitely helped.

I built a world from scratch, which is a first for our dnd group. We’ve done a campaign in Skyrim, and we’re also doing a campaign in the Witcher universe. Mine is the first where the players can’t just google world info, which I like a lot. 

My campaign started with an idea of having a party of bards. And I wanted them to have a REASON to stay together. Not just the typical dnd “we’re together bc why not”. I wanted them to KNOW each other but still have secrets to hide?? So it wasn’t just strangers?? So THAT was my starting point. And I asked myself, how do I make that happen? So I had the idea that they all have to start bard level 1. They were in a band for a year together, but then they broke up. They haven’t seen each other in five years. ALL of them have gone through hell and back ((bc what’s dnd without tragic backstories??)). They’re level 4 now, and they got to multiclass into whatever they wanted to. So they’re forced back together through circumstance, and they’re stuck in this party of people they used to know but are now so different. 

My goal for my group was simple: I wanted a story where every player feels like the main character. I wanted them to have their own secrets and quests and things to figure out and pursue. I wanted each and every person to feel like they’re leading the group. Everyone to feel important. So I had several brainstorming talks with each of my players. I figured out what they wanted to play, and ideas they had, and then we expanded on them and build up their characters together (bc it’s easier when you have a dm to build with you). Another goal I had was to give everyone a personal rp challenge. Which is unique to the player. It’s mean to help them build up some of their weaknesses and gently guide them out of their comfort zones. 

So now I have six players with crazy unique and complicated backstories. They all have secrets and weird quirks. They all have goals to pursue and things to keep from the others. And most of them have aspects of their backstories that THEY dont’ even know. Missing memories, secret bloodlines, unknown curses. This is really important to ME. Since these are secrets even from the players, they get to learn surprising new things about their characters as the campaign goes on. Even THEY don’t know everything about themselves, and that’s exciting to them. It means more work for me as a dm, but it’s worth it for them. 

This was an important factor for me in planning my campaign because my group plays online. With online dnd, it’s harder to keep engaged. When you’re not in person and you can’t feed off the energy, it can be easy to lose focus. I noticed that from previous campaigns, and I tried to come up with ways to help it. What I came up with was this: the best way to keep online players engaged is to make them invested in their characters. Simple, yeah? By having complex characters that they put so much into, they love those characters, and thus love playing them. By giving them an rp challenge specifically suited to them, it forces them to pay attention, to constantly be in the mind of their character so they can consider how that character would act and react at any given time. By giving them individual goals to pursue, they’re constantly trying to figure shit out. By keeping aspects of their characters unknown, it gives them a feeling of excited anticipation. All these things help keep them engaged and locked into their character’s minds, which makes the whole experience a lot of fun. 

As for the WORLD, I kinda just... figured out an aesthetic that I thought was cool and tried to run with it?? I don’t remember how I got to this idea, but I thought the feywild was cool, so I said “what if something cataclysmic happened and the material plane and feywild are now mixed together and people have adapted to living with a constant fey presence?? And then one night I was almost asleep when I thought of SKY SHIPS and FLOATING ISLANDS. So I said “what if a lot of the material plane races raised sky cities to get away from the fey threat on the surface??” And so I had my aesthetic for the world, I just needed specifics. 

I thought “well, if there were old kingdoms before the Cataclysm, how would they have been affected when the planes merged??” So coming up with an old political climate, and how things have changed since. How the surface and the sky cities function now. Where do all the races fit into this map? Into this world? The feywild and Material Plane are only two of the three mirror planes, how does this affect the Shadowfell? Okay, the shadowfell is starting to leak through the thin veil and we have pockets of shadow portals that are becoming worse and worse as the centuries go by. 

I had the area where the Cataclysm happened, but what happened there? This was admittedly the hardest part, and I got a huge writers block here, but I figured it out. What society lived there. The magic they used. How shit went wrong and they merged the planes. 

What gods exist in this world? Well, I picked a single pantheon in the dnd handbook and said “these are the gods” bc I didn’t want to incorporate ALL of them. But the idea of this pantheon was that there was no afterlife, which started play into ideas I had for the lost city that started the cataclysm. And it kinda all started to come together. 

The whole time I was building the world and history, I kept my character’s backstories in mind. I wanted all of them to be important SOME HOW. All of their importance differs. But I wanted them all to be tied to big world big picture things SOMEHOW. So they could all feel chosen, in a way. 

But the best part?? This is an open world campaign. There are things in the world that are happening, and they’ll happen with or without the party’s interference. But their interference can cause domino affects in world events. I didn’t want to set my party on ONE QUESTLINE. I wanted them to CHOOSE. So I slapped them down in a town, got them used to their characters, and now they’re out of the “starter zone” so to speak. They can choose where to go. What ideas to pursue. They all have driven backstories, so it’s interesting to see who kinda pushes theirs to the front of the agenda. And there is no Good and Evil. I wanted a whole world of gray area. So the party’s opinions of world events will probably change depending on who’s backstory they follow first. Who they meet first can shape how they think and what side they get on. Which is super exciting. The whole campaign is malleable and the party has free rein. In fact, they can choose to never interact with world events and just do small time fuckery quests. It’s all up to them. But shit will be happening and the world changing. And it’s exciting to see where they get to go.It’s a very character and roleplay driven campaign, which is what we all wanted. And seeing them so invested in characters is so nice. Seeing them love my world is great. And knowing what I have in store for them is exciting. 

I know this isn’t so much TIPs as me just rambling about my experience, but maybe it’ll help??The best actual advice for building the world... come up with an aesthetic you want and the goal for your campaign. Those are your keystones. Now ask yourself why? How? Where? Who? You want a king to be insane? OKay, why? You want there to be a world that’s mostly water with ship travel? Okay, what’s the history? How have the people adapted to this world? How are cities constructed and what social constructs come about in a mostly ship/water based world? 

I can give you some specific examples from my campaign about how I designed social constructs for different societies if you want, but I feel like I’ve rambled enough for one post lol. Good luck!

[mu-legends-hack]

Mu Legend Hack Review

Mu Legend Hack Review - Program

WEBZEN, a worldwide developer and publisher of free-to-enjoy video games, has introduced a free of charge starter-pack giveaway for the ARPG MMO MU Legend. MU Legend has a clan program, mission technique, ability tree and distinct match modes, and dungeons alongside the maps. one. Enter Valofe's MU Legend Homepage and commence to the Support Transfer webpage. Then, comply with the transfer website page methods and requirements, which will lead you to the Webzen character verification webpage. After the game's first OBT debut previous November, the beautiful hack ‘n' slash Motion-Mmog MU Legend will officially be launched on August 7th, together with its 1st official growth: Noria.

After the official launch, MU Origin two gained a whole lot of acceptance with in excess of 500,000 downloads in South Korea. In addition, it has become the number two app in terms of revenue equally on the Google Perform Shop and Apple's App Mu Legend Cheat Retailer, and that in the hugely competitive Korean game titles industry. Masses of PvE and PvP MU LEGEND by natural means enables its players to unparalleled liberty of customization in its large range of PvE and PvP material.

1st, let's make clear what MU Legend is all about. It's an Mmo, like its predecessor, that is geared in direction of fluid hack-and-slash combat and ought to engage in easily on reduced-end techniques as nicely Mu Legend Hack as larger-stop kinds. Subsequent the footsteps of internationally productive MU titles (MU Online, MU Origin), MU Legend offers an reliable alternative to the dungeon crawler gaming knowledge.

The very first factor you want to do is to verify the laptop characteristic before signing up for the sport on MU Legend OL 2 Shopper obtain webpage. It is also attainable to check your pc on-line. Just click on the red button on the download webpage. With the OBT launch, players will have obtain to the entirety of MU Legend's entire world maps. Produce your character, check out historical civilizations like Greece, Egypt, Babylon, and China, and struggle in opposition to hordes of famous creatures! Mixing historical mythology with non-stop action, Titan Quest is a vintage hack-and-slash providing energizing gameplay with a quick, extreme rhythm.

It truly is been a lengthy wait for the MU Legend open beta test, but it appears like that wait is acquiring at least a couple of months more time. Webzen has confirmed that the subsequent period of the game's development is getting delayed for added balancing and changes. A next generation ARPG with MMO components, Mu Legend focuses on Overcome, Character Expansion and Partying.

MU Origin two is WEBZEN's endeavor to recapture the magic that turned MU On the web into one particular of the most popular MMORPGs of the past decade. This match offers radically-enhanced graphics over its predecessor, as effectively as many upgrades to the gameplay and standard good quality-of-life. We have partnered with Webzen to bring you 3K beta codes for MU Legend's second closed beta check, due to start on February twenty first.

Mu Legend Hack Review - The Best Cheat

Mu Legend looks incredible, with its a few dimensional and multi-layered amount design and style. The skill consequences and battle mechanics search easy with just sufficient of flashiness. WEBZEN, a international developer and publisher of free-to-engage in games, has announced its impending action Mmog MU Legend will enter its open beta stage this September. Very good Information! MmoGah has added the solutions of promoting MU Legend Zen and MU Electrical power Leveling which are welcomed by gamers with far more and much more orders each day. MmoGah has a great track record among gamers.

Webzen declared yesterday that it will include its 1st new class, "Emphasizer", to the Laptop online match 'MU LEGEND'. If you happen to be also a fan of the MOBA genre then very good news: the Revelation On the web Mythical Overcome update provides a different game manner inspired by MOBA titans like League of Legends and Dota two Mu Legend Hack. Accessibility to dismantling and crafting without having obtaining to go to NPC and thirty% exp bonus , would seem to be number of of items that could be considered P2W components, but i come to feel like the way the sport is built ( remember token and teleports ) , it doesnt actually give that a lot of a direct to a male with platinum time on his acc.

Zen is the forex you use in MU Legend to obtain new products at merchants and auctions, restore your equipment, and several more. This is why you have to seize each prospect to get it. Dragon Marked For Death is a side-scrolling Second action RPG that can played solo or with up to 4 gamers in local or on the web multiplayer. Its unhappy tho, as I genuinely appreciated my time with MU Legend. The battle is intense and truly enjoyable. It made me search with other eyes to Global Cooldown online games, like WoW and FFXIV. Motion MMORPGs can be genuinely excellent if completed properly.

You require Mu Legend Redzen for your endgame, due to the fact things for high ranges cost a lot and there is no point in throwing away your Mu Legend Redzen on low amount things only to outgrow them. You will do just good picking up items from mobs, getting them from quests or Rifts. When fighting monsters, try to hold them in a team. This way, the area attacks (which represent the greater part of capabilities offered in the sport) will damage a number of enemies at after, generating the fights significantly shorter.

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

ADVENTURES IN AND AROUND THE RETIRO PARK

So, yesterday I went to the Retiro Park by myself to see my favourite madrileño thing ever, the Book Fair. I also decided to show you guys some of the parts of this park, the Central Park or Hyde Park of Madrid, and also went to certain high school near Retiro Park where a certain Movistar + show may or may not be filmed...

So let’s start, join me in the marvelous adventure that was yesterday!

So, after missing the bus and nearly missing the light rail, and about 1 h 15 min of transportation, I finally got off the Retiro metro station at around 11 a.m. (although from the wrong side, as there is an exit right inside the park). This exit was located in Alcalá Street (remember the San Isidro post? There was a song about this street), one of the most important of Madrid, and at least I could see the Puerta de Alcalá (Alcalá Door, there’s a song about it, I may do a post about it someday), the Spanish version of the french Arc de Triomphe or the german Brandenburg Tor. 

The main entrance to the Retiro Park (for reference, this is at the Northern edge of the Retiro) is here, so I could enter easily the park. Here is a photo of it, and also of another door closer to the metro station that I couldn’t reach without getting smashed by the traffic, with a beautiful church behind it.

After that, I started wandering aimlessly through the park, not really knowing where the Book Fair was and getting distracted by every nook of the Retiro. For starters, here are some random buildings I came across with:

The first building is pretty self-explanatory, but according to google maps, the second one is the “Cultural Center Casa de Vacas” (”Casa de Vacas” literally translates to “House of Cows” so that’s nice I guess), while the third one is the “Velázquez Palace”.

But what I really love about the Retiro, is that you can forget you are in the center of Madrid with all it’s greenery and calm:

I then went to my favourite place in all of the Retiro, and probably of Madrid, the amazing monument in honour of Charles III, who remodeled the park and honestly for me was the best king of Spain. 

I even made a video so you guys could admire the monument as a whole!

(I didn’t know how to upload it here, so I had to upload it to youtube, I’m sorry if there was an easier way, but I’m really not great with technology)

After that, I went to the main street in the Retiro Park, the one by the lake that you probably recognise from that Skam España clip.

And, of course, I had to recreate Cris’ photo.

I know, I know, we are identical. To avoid confusions, I’m in the left and Cris is in the right.

At this point I honestly had no clue on how to find the Book Fair, so I just started walking through the park, hoping I would see the stands somewhere. And I came across a place I had heard about but never actually saw, until yesterday, the “Crystal Palace”:

And I also came across a place I didn’t even knew it existed, but it amazed me. It was a fenced off rose garden, and it was like entering a fairytale land, really.

When I exited the Rose Garden, I finally saw where the Book Fair was, but, in the other end of the trail, there was a thing I was actually looking for, because I wanted to show you, the “Fallen Angel Fountain”, the only monument in the world dedicated to the Devil:

Sorry for the quality of the photos, I suggest you to google it because it’s honestly amazing. 

So, after all of the wondering, at 12:00 a.m. I finally got into the Book Fair. It consists of a whole street, the “Paseo Fernán Gómez” (”Fernán Gómez Promenade”) lined up with stands of different libraries and publishers (over 200) from all over Spain and Latin America, full of books. Not gonna lie, this is my happy place.

Fun fact, the attendee who was at the close-up stand knew what career I was studying after I said I studied things related to what they sell (which is really surprising, as my degree is unique of my university, there are no degrees like mine in the rest of Spain) and that I could even do an internship with them, so yay!!!

So, I went through all the fair, bought some books (I’ll show them later) and by 1 pm I was done, and I was very hungry (note that I had only had breakfast at 8 a.m., and that I always have for breakfast two greek yogurts and nothing more), so, even if it was a bit early, I decided to eat. I found a nice place, and I ate one of the most Spanish things ever, a tortilla de patatas baguette:

After eating, I just had left one thing to do: visit Skam España’s high school. I knew its name, and kinda its location, so, with the help of Google Maps, I could get there in 10 minutes.

The thing is, it’s located in a weird fenced-off zone with like parking lots reserved for official cars and really suspicious and ominous buildings that made me think I was entering some kind of government secret area or something like that, and I became really scared, so when I eventually got to the High School, which was also full of teenagers that had just finished their classes (it was about 2 pm), I just snatched a couple of photos before nearly running out of there, scared as hell. This is a photo of where I got out of there and into normal streets:

Don’t you dare tell me those buildings aren’t suspicious!!!!

Either way, here are the photos I took, with a comparison of the building shown in Skam, so you can see it’s the same one, but in another angle:

So, after escaping that weird place, I realized the closest metro stop was Atocha (I know now it’s not longer call that, but you get the point) and there wasn’t a way of going home from Atocha’s line, so I had to do a really weird detour, and long story short, I was home by 4 pm. 

Here are the books I bought btw

The first one is for my father, as his birthday is right around the corner, and would translate as “Cornelia of Gades: An extraordinary hispanic in the Imperial Roman court” (he really likes historical novels, and I chose the one I would read, so he could lend me when he’s over). The other two are for me, “A Year In Ancient Rome. The everyday life of the romans through their calendar” from Néstor F. Marqués, and “Poetry” of the ancient poet Catulus, I highly recommend it to you.

Thanks for sticking til the end, and I hope you liked my yesterday adventure! :)

[pkmn-fangamer]

Pokémon Gaia Review

Intro:

Hi guys! This is my first Pokemon fan game review. Hopefully there will be many to follow! Thanks so much for taking the time to read this. If you want to skip right to the review part, you can scroll past Description and How to Play. If you want any more details on the game that I don’t cover here, feel free to send me an ask! Also, if you have any games you’d like me to review, feel free to send in requests as well.

Description:

The storied Orbtus region was once populated by a prosperous civilization. They created several monuments to their gods and guardians. Their untimely demise was brought about by a series of disastrous earthquakes; all that remains of their society are their temples, idols and story, as relics of the past.

In the present day, local archaeologist and Pokémon Professor, Professor Redwood, has noticed an increase in the region’s seismic activity. Propelled by a growing concern for Orbtus’ safety, he seeks the assistance of new Pokémon Trainers with a flair for adventure in the rural Celanto Town, a seaside town near the mysterious totem poles, and your home! Will you, along with the help of the Professor and your rival, be able to prevent the earth from consuming the region once more?

How to Play:

To play Pokemon Gaia, you’ll need to download a few things. They are Visual Boy Advance, Pokemon Gaia (V3.2), Pokemon Fire Red, and NUPS. I highly recommend watching this video, which contains links to all these necessary pieces in the description and teaches you exactly how put them all together.

Story:

From my first few minutes playing, I could tell that the story in this game would be fairly put together. It seemed to have a lot of potential, being based on the Regis and having ancient roots in regional history. However, I feel as though the story didn’t live up to its full potential. It wasn’t horrible by any means; it just could have been better. For the most part, it feels a lot like a standard main series game story.

The overall story is very formulaic. You have your silent protagonist, kind of bland rival, professor named after a tree, an evil team called the New Elders, etc. None of the characters are particularly memorable to me, but none of them are particularly bad either. One particularly interesting surprise was a character from another region in a leadership role- that’s the most I’ll say about that, though.

Overall, this story isn’t the best one you’ll ever see in a Pokemon, but it gets the job done, and serves to be fairly interesting.

Score: 7/10

Pokemon:

I’ll begin with the selection of starters. To my pleasure, the available ones are the Sinnoh starters, which feels right for this game. I’ve also never seen another fan game with solely Sinnoh starters before, and I’m partial to the Sinnoh region, so this was a pleasure for me.

The range of Pokemon available in this game is amazing. There are Pokemon included up to and including Gen 6, with every mega evolution. One person playing this game will never have the same team as another- there are just so many options right from the beginning. Just from the first three routes and towns, you can seriously build a decent team of six Pokemon. Or you can wait like I did and pick up one Pokemon at a time along the way.

One thing of note that I appreciate is the availability of all types of Pokemon, and it’s clear that there are specific areas in the game dedicated to most Pokemon types. Notably, ice type Pokemon are available in a relatively early part of the game. No main series game offers ice types before the fifth badge, whereas ice types are readily available directly after your second gym battle.

Score: 10/10

Gameplay:

The overall difficulty of the game is medium-high. I’d compare it to Gens 1-5; it’s definitely harder than 6 and 7. Trainers frequently have Pokemon about the same level as you, or only a few under. I did have to do some grinding and was actually beaten by my rival a couple of times. However, grinding is easy with the speed up button since this game is played on Virtual Boy Advance. I’d also like to note that I was pleasantly surprised that the grunts of the evil team are actually a bit stronger than the average trainer you’ll battle. This really helps bring the New Elders to life as an actual threat.

Additionally, there are several nice additional touches that really help bring the Orbtus region to life. Almost every NPC you talk to actually has something meaningful to say; they’re packed with optional side quest offers, items to give out, Pokemon to trade, and offer a wealth of information about the history of the region and local towns.

Like a normal main series Pokemon game, Gaia includes a normal eight-gym circuit, and each gym has a simple, yet unique gym puzzle that is fun to solve but not overly difficult.

The biggest deficit to me was the appearance of HMs. Like Gen 6 and earlier, HMs are not only present, but required to get around the game and find hidden places and items. For older fan games I would not count this against the creator but being that this game was finished after the release of Alola, I think this game could have been better without them.

8/10

Art/Music:

The art found in Gaia is truly reminiscent of Gen 3 games Fire Red and Leaf Green, with a decent number of maps being mostly made of these tiles. As the game went on, more areas used original tiles. There was a desert area, a farm-based area, a canyon, and so many different environments. However, one thing that I really didn’t like was the lack original design when it came to the evil team. The grunt design was imported directly from BW2, and the overworld sprite for the team leader is the old lady one from FRLG that may be slightly edited.

One of my personal favorite cities is Windmist City, which is a snowy city far north similar to Snowbelle or Snowpoint. The weather there is constantly snowy, and the snow is well animated. It’s neat to see a snowy town in Gen 3 graphics. The NPCs in Windmist are also unique, dressed in coats and drawn distinct from the default NPCs from FRLG. Another interesting city is Telemurk City, which was run by a gang, and reminded me of a more put-together Po Town from Alola.

Overall, the music is passable. There are few original tracks, with most music imported directly from FRLG. My favorite original track is the Elder Nights admin theme. I would have enjoyed more original tracks, but I do prefer this if the alternative could have been badly composed music.

Score: 7.5/10

Misc:

This isn’t a rated section, but it’s nice to know what kind of community support you’ll get going into a game. Unfortunately, while there is a decent amount of people that enjoy Gaia, there isn’t a big fandom presence. There’s only a partially filled out wiki with some not-so-reliable information, which was disappointing to me. However, there are some google sheets of helpful info that you can find in the discord channel.

I’d also like to say that while the story of this game is finished, a new version is set to come out, which should give Gaia some post game content.

Overall:

After only visiting a few of the first towns, I noticed something about Gaia that’s hard to find in a lot of fan games: a polished final product that is truly similar to a main series game. I can’t find single grammatical, language, or graphical error in the whole game, which significantly contributes to the feeling that this could be a main series Pokemon game.

All in all, I did enjoy playing this game, and would recommend it- especially to someone that really wants a game that doesn’t deviate from the Pokemon Formula. In terms of where I’d rank it among Pokemon fangames, I’d put it in the upper middle of the pack. I would rank it higher among fan games, but it lacks a sort of wow factor that the very best fangames have. Everything considered, this is a solid game that’s definitely worth a play.

Final Score: 8/10

[thesydneyfeminists]

Feminist Travels: How to Travel More Ethically

I’ve traveled a fair bit over the course of my lifetime, especially over the last four years. In that time, I’ve spent three months backpacking Europe, a month roadtripping the east coast of the US, a month and a half exploring the Melbourne area, before finally planting tentative roots in Sydney for a year and a half.  But then my life plans went astray, as they’re apt to do. Since February, I’ve been working and traveling New Zealand while I wait for a second visa back to Australia. It’s been an amazing and, at times, overwhelming experience. And it’s certainly not the life I imagined for myself. If you asked 16-year-old me, she never would have guessed she’d grow up to travel the world. I often get bemused or baffled looks when I try to explain to people how (and why) I do what I do. The truth is, most of the time I don’t know.

But, wherever life takes me, I keep circling back to how my various privileges shape the way I travel. My US passport is hugely beneficial, as is being white. I’m straight-passing (which, at times, is both a blessing and a curse). I don’t come from money, but my family is supportive and would take me back in a heartbeat if I ever needed it. And I don’t have any health issues that prevent me from traveling or require me to announce them to customs. It’s still less safe for single women to travel than single men, but it’s becoming much easier and more acceptable for women to travel alone. If you Google “feminist travel,” you’ll find a plethora of feminist travel blogs, all created with the intent of empowering women to see the world. This is great! But there is also a darker side to the recent travel phenomenon that we, as feminists, need to address more in-depth.

Image Description: A picture of a person with long hair standing on a metal walkway overlooking the tops of a vast mountain range. They are wearing a long sleeve shirt and long pants of indeterminant color and facing away from the camera. They are straddling the walkway and holding their arms spread up over their head like an angel. The mountains are shadowy and peak up over fluffy, white clouds, which are beneath the person and the walkway. The sky above the mountains is bright blue.

The travel lifestyle brand pushed by so many Instagram pages and blogs is often enormously unethical. For starters, not everyone can or will ever be able to travel. Of course, I want travel to eventually become accessible to everyone, but sadly there’s a long way to go before that happens. Additionally, not everyone wants to travel, and that’s perfectly okay too. Those who make sweeping claims about how traveling makes you a better person do so at the detriment of people who choose not to travel, for various reasons. And finally, travel can have lasting environmental and social/cultural/political effects on a place and its inhabitants. As one travel blogger writes, “we have a responsibility as travelers to be respectful to the people and culture in the foreign countries we visit. This means traveling humbly, respectfully, without cultural appropriation or mockery, and being aware of the historical dynamics your ethnicity bears” (https://capsulesuitcase.com/2017/03/08/how-feminism-shapes-the-way-i-travel/). As feminists, we should think critically about travel and the ways in which our feminisms shape and are shaped by our physical movements through the world.

Now, I’m not here to lecture anyone about the best and only way to travel (there isn’t one). I won’t try to convince you it’s absolutely necessary to stop traveling if you want to call yourself a true feminist. Obviously, I enjoy traveling and it’s a huge part of my life, so that would be a bit hypocritical. Instead, I want to think through some ways in which we can all be a little more “feminist” in our travels. This list is not definitive or all-encompassing. It’s meant more as a jumping-off point for further thought/ discussion. It stems from my personal experiences and conversations I’ve had with other travelers and non-travelers alike. Please feel free to add your own ideas in the comments!

Image Description: A photo of a large map of the United States spread out of on a white table. In the left-hand corner is the keyboard of a Mac computer with a mug of coffee sitting to the left of the keypad. Beneath the computer is a United States passport and a turquoise blue, plastic camera. In the top right-hand corner is another silver and black camera with a black strap. You can see the top of a person’s head in the bottom-center of the photo. They are wearing a black, broad-brimmed hat which hides their face and shoulders. They are also wearing a white sweatshirt, rolled up to their elbows, a black and gold watch on their right wrist and a silver ring on their right ring finger. Their right hand is pointing towards a place on the map near the Great Lakes. Next to their hand is a pair of light blue, leopard print sunglasses.

1.     Don’t participate in Voluntourism: So, I very much support volunteering. I’m a volunteer here at the Sydney Feminists, so I know firsthand the importance of volunteer work. But voluntourism is something altogether different and very problematic. Everyday Feminism published a brilliant article on this very topic. Instead of attempting a poor summary, I’ll just link it here: https://everydayfeminism.com/2016/11/voluntourism-wont-fix-the-world/. I don’t mean to condemn you if you’ve ever done a trip like those mentioned in the article. No one is born the “perfect feminist,” and we all need to learn and unlearn as we grow. Reading up on voluntourism and the harm it brings to communities around the world is a good start!

2.     Support local businesses: This point really boils down to the “keeping it local” mentality.  Although there are ways to travel on a budget, all travel requires at least some monetary exchanges. Many people consider travel and tourism “healthy” for local economies for this exact reason. But the truth of the matter is, large, international corporations benefit the most from travel and tourism. More often than not, local economies don’t see much, if any, of the profits. So, next time you travel, forego the Hilton and book a local B&B. Or, better yet, stay and work for locals in exchange for food and accommodation. Websites like WWOOF and HelpX are popular ways of facilitating such exchanges. Skip Maccas and dine at small, independently owned restaurants (in most cities around the world, there are usually cheap food carts and such for even the most budget-friendly of travelers). Attend weekend farmer’s markets for an array of food, crafts and activities. And definitely make sure those souvenirs you buy to bring home are sourced from local artisans! Bonus points if you research businesses owned and operated by minorities (gender or otherwise). 

3.     Donate to local charities – but do your research first: Again, you don’t have to pour huge amounts of money into this step. I understand the need to pinch pennies when traveling. But even a donation of the cost of a cup of coffee can be helpful. It’s always important to research charities before donating, even in your own home. Some charities are just as corrupt as big businesses. But, if you can find good people doing important work on something you’re passionate about (say, women’s rights!), donations of time or money are great ways to say thank you to local communities for sharing their home.

4.     Read books by locals: Okay, not just books! Read (or listen to) anything you can get your hands on by people who grew up/ lived in the place you’re traveling to. If you have the money to spare, you can purchase hard copies from a local bookstore. But there are plenty of free resources on the internet as well. Sometimes, local libraries will allow you to browse and read the items they have available, or else will have cheap books for sale. Reading in this way allows you to see a place through the eyes of the people who live there. It can give you a fresh perspective and is often a much more intimate experience than reading those mass-produced guidebooks you see in airports.

5.     Familiarize yourself with local politics, and then listen to what locals have to say about them: As I mentioned above, traveling is always political. Therefore, it can be handy to have a basic understanding of the politics of a place before you travel there. No one is expecting you to become an expert overnight. But a few, initial Google searches will show people you care. Probably the most important part of this step, though, is listening to locals. I wouldn’t suggest immediately bombarding people with questions about politics the second you step off the plane (or train or bus). But if the topic comes up organically, be open to what people have to say. I’ve learned so much through conversations with locals about politics (both the government kind and the daily life kind). Willingness to communicate and actively engage with a place and its people will go a long way in leading a more feminist, traveling life.

Image Description: A photo of a hand holding a toy globe up in front of a green and grey mountain range. The hand and globe are in focus, while the background is slightly out of focus. You can only see the hand from the wrist up and its palm is facing the camera. On the globe, you can see all of Central and South America and some of North America and Africa.  

By: Brittany L. 

Sources:

https://feministglobetrotter.com/

https://worldforagirl.com/travel-and-feminism/

https://capsulesuitcase.com/2017/03/08/how-feminism-shapes-the-way-i-travel/

https://thevagabondfeminist.wordpress.com/2016/05/27/solo-female-travel-is-an-act-of-feminism/

https://passionpassport.com/feminism-travel-space/

https://everydayfeminism.com/2014/03/traveling-harassment-advice/

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this piece do not necessarily reflect the views of the Sydney Feminists. Our Blogger and Tumblr serve as platforms for a diverse array of women to put forth their ideas and explore topics. To learn more about the philosophy behind TSF’s Blogger/ Tumblr, please read our statement here: https://www.sydneyfeminists.org/a

[ghostmartyr]

Pokémon Black 2 Randomized Nuzlocke Run [Part 1]

White was so much fun, the sequel was obviously inevitable. Only I don’t own White 2, so Black 2 shall be our contestant. All encounters and starters will be random, static pokemon are what they are originally. Any pokemon not randomized is ineligible for use.

Nuzlocke rules, again copied from Bulbapedia:

    Any Pokémon that faints is considered dead, and must be released or put in the Pokémon Storage System permanently.

   The player may only catch the first Pokémon encountered in each area, and none else.

My added rules of choice:

Each pokemon must be nicknamed.

If the first pokemon in an area is a species I’ve already caught, the first one that isn’t will become the catch option.

The catch rules start applying once I have the option of catching things.

No looking anything up on guides.

Team wipe means continuing on using whatever I have in the PC.

Let’s have some fun.

Second verse, same as the first.

I haven’t adjusted the text speed yet and it is driving me insane.

I remember having so much love for this gen, but the designs of these poor children still provoke odd looks. Not that I mind walking around with a palm tree on my head, I just question why anyone thought that I would want that.

Hugh!

Wait, do I get to pick his name?

I do!

Uhhh.

Wow, I forgot that this was the hardest part about Nuzlockes. I can’t just go with Hugh if this is a true random. Hm. Okay then, in honor of friendship, this guy’s name can be Russell.

The first thing our mom does in this game is give me cause to ship her with Professor Juniper. Our mom knows her first name. It’s Aurea. Why would she know that if they were not secretly involved in some way???

Is this the first game that has an outside character get first crack at moving the screen around after we’ve chosen our name? I kind of like it.

I like it more now that it’s ending and I can switch the text speed to Fast.

Heeeeey it’s us. Palm tree hair and all.

I never find out what the contrary answers lead to, because I can never make myself pick them. It makes my completionist nature very sad. As does the reminder that I do not have the ability to run yet. Someone please give this poor boy some shoes.

Bianca is here to meet us!

She is not our bestie in this version, but she is in our hearts.

This is our bestie this version.

He’s got a little sister.

Just so we know all that black and red in his color scheme is for show.

Look at him walking in time with us like the total bro he is.

Dude is this his room? I want one.

Bianca! Friend!

That awkward moment when you have the same name as one of her best friends who will never be seen this entire game.

Okay okay okay it’s time.

Time to receive our starter.

Our choices are:

Ah that’s rough. Hm.

My preference is always going to be to have something’s first state, that I can level up and evolve myself, but I recently finished my White run, and in it I had Larvitar’s line as well as Aggron’s, so really, there can be only one choice.

Snorlax, I choose you!

And my first act as your new friend is to give you a brand new name that I need to come up with!

Snore, sleep, yawn... sleep words... Dreamor?

Heck that’s a dorky name. He needs it.

Dreamor got, Russell steps in and asks for an in on our journey. He has his own super special mission that I’m not supposed to remember but I do, and talks Bianca into giving him a pokedex as well. Because Bianca’s a sweetheart.

But before we can go any further, it’s time to d-d-d-d-duel!

Everything about Russell’s design screams childhood-friend-gone-villain and I love how little that has anything to do with his arc.

Oshawaott vs. Dreamor! Lesgo!

Snorlax knows Tackle and Defense Curl, which is actually appropriate for a starter. I am going to be dull and Tackle spam.

...

OHKO.

Dreamor appears to be... enthusiastic. in his participation.

G-good job, boy.

Bianca even walks us to the Pokemon Center, because she’s just that wonderful. She also gives us some Poke Balls (again, see wonderful), which means that we’re officially in business to get this run on the road.

...I really hope Dreamor doesn’t faint everything in one hit. This could be a lonely start for the two of us if he’s as strong as he looks.

-gasp-

Our mother greets us outside the Center and gives us Running Shoes.

Thank you mother. I knew you loved us.

Aw, and Russell’s baby sister gives us a Town Map. Thanks, kiddo. I will deliver your brother’s copy with great haste and competence.

(They keep calling Dreamor Tepig.)

Before we go any further, let’s find out what sort of critter Dreamor is.

Rash and capable of taking hits. Well, if you’re going to be rash, you might as well be prepared to handle what it gets you into. The nature gets a sad face out of me for mechanics, but I always love having Thick Fat available, and look at that smile.

Oh my gosh the gate attendant knows our name and gave us a Potion for our journey. I feel so cared for.

Bianca teaches us how to catch stuff, and we, being an experienced trainer, completely ignore the lesson and wait for control to be returned to us.

The first tall grass awaits our first step. Dreamor! Let us go forth and meet our next friend!

!!!!!!

..Oh heck though.

She’s level 2.

I don’t know if she can eat a Tackle from Dreamor.

Also I might end up not using her because I used her line in the last run but hey I didn’t use Politoed (and I also don’t know how to get a Politoed given the settings).

I’ll throw a ball first, then see if she lives through a Tackle.

...Ah, the return of Hypnosis.

...Is all she knows Hypnosis? No, there’s also Water Sport.

Hey, she lives through a Tackle!

...Barely!

Ball thrown, Poliwhirl get!

From now on, your new name shall be... Stella. And we need to run back to a Center pronto. Your new teammate whacked you one good.

Stella is Quirky and alert to sounds. Sounds good to me, but I have zero clue how to evolve you to a Politoed. I think normally you need a King’s Rock and trading, but I selected the box that cleared up trading requirements for evolutions, giving me no clue whatsoever what to do with you, darling.

All the same, welcome. Your line is one of my favorites.

...Also you are not a Zubat.

Zubat was an option for this route.

Stella, your worth just went up.

Even if I end up not using her due to memories of Wagston overriding sense, I don’t think I can keep her at level 2, so we’re going to do some switch training for a tiny bit.

...Sir, what are you doing here I have been playing for five seconds.

He offers training, but since he gives me my controls right back after him and his neat soundtrack walk around inspecting me, I’m going to go ahead with my original plans.

Stella downed a level 2 Zubat all by herself. She’s growing up so fast.

WHY DOES HYPNOSIS HAVE 100 ACCURACY WHEN IT’S USED AGAINST ME. ;-;

Oh, wow, the next Pokemon Center is just. right there, isn’t it.

“Flocessy Town Prophecy Flocks Here”

You have never known a love as true as Pokemon translators and wordplay. Apparently this is where Alder’s house is. Apparently Champions are now allowed houses, and not only if your name is Cynthia. I call hax.

Alder wants Russell to have his Town Map before training, and Russell is on Route 20, which means....

our next friend

Are the leaves grass, or just pretty?

After tromping over them for several seconds, it looks to be that they are merely pretty. Very pretty, though.

Aha, grass located. What awaits us?

Hello there!

It’s a grand ol’ gen one time, it seems. Dreamor can’t hit you, so Stella, up you go. Please do not kill her.

Gastly get!

You shall be... Caspet.

Caspet has a Mild nature to go with her sturdy body. With her we shall find if I actually screwed up the evolution options. I’m still really new to Randomizer, and probably should have looked up what the choices did on Google before starting this run, but the rule after the run has begun is no guides, so here we are.

We enter Flocessy Ranch, which is a new location. Another friend already. Our fortune is pure.

...How do I keep finding every generation one creature that needs trading to evolve. Is this going to be this run’s theme?

Oh, it Teleported.

I forgot they liked to do that.

...Welp. There’s that route dead.

Is there anything in this route that can give me exp?

Even if there is, it’s so Kadabra heavy that I’d just as soon not bother. Having things constantly run away from you is really tiring. We’ll give Russell his map and leave.

Wait what.

We just fought five minutes ago. Russell. Russell. Just because your theme music is rad as heck and demanding action doesn’t mean you have to be running a mile a minute. That’s the scarf gen’s deal.

Dreamor eats Oshawott and all is well.

Then we get a random sidequest to locate a Herdier for the owners of the ranch. To which Russell experiences Emotions at, because Reasons.

Everyone needs a screenshot of Mareep running in a circle.

Hey, something not Kadabra. Hi Cottonee. Bye Cottonee. And that item ball in the corner is a Poke Ball. Oh, and here’s a Basculin. Look at all these things not running away from us.

...I... need an adult?

Dreamor has taken on the role of adult. I’m not sure Mienshao even knows Fighting moves at that level, but fully evolved things this early on are scary regardless.

We find the Herdier being unhappy with a Team Plasma Grunt.

He throws the Frustration TM at us. Hee.

Herdier has such a cute bwoof.

The day is saved, and now Alder’s down for palling around with us.

By palling around, I mean Alder introduces us to two small children he expects us to beat into the ground. As you do.

All passes without incident. Yay.

We walk outside and Mr. Medal gives us a Medal Box, which I don’t clearly remember, but suspect is intending to prey on me and my achievement hunting ways.

Alder is also kind enough to alert us that a Gym Leader has arrived at our home town. I wonder who it might be, but before that, Alder has a random cave place behind his home. New route?

It’s counted as part of Flocessy, it looks like. I haven’t caught anything within the town limits, but there doesn’t appear to be grass. Water, but I can’t do anything about that yet. Sigh. Oh well.

First badge is Normal, I believe.

...Let’s train Dreamor a tad more before we go after that. I believe in you, buddy, but I am also very rightfully paranoid.

Azumarill live in Caspet’s home grass.

When does Caspet learn something that isn’t Lick or a status move. My poor little ghost.

...

Yeah it’s level 3 but it’s still a scary thing to see.

Hey, first legendary of the run!

And Caspet has Mean Look... We could see if she has what it takes to Lick Kadabra down to size. Like tootsie pops. You could be an owl, Caspet.

This place was crowded with Kadabra, and now there’s Ambipom just hanging out. Okay then. Cue Geodude for some reason. Oh. And Linoone.

-tears for Bandit-

Hey wait hold up. Psychic is super effective against Ghost in this version? That’s... good to know. It also doesn’t sound right, but I don’t think the game cares about that. That’s annoying.

No Caspet, you can’t learn Curse. I’m going to come close enough to killing you as it is. Don’t enable the process.

Let’s go for it, shall we?

Cheren! Friend!

I actually really like the arrangement of his Gym. It isn’t the aesthetic wonderland that other Gyms of this gen are, but that’s kind of what makes it awesome? Cheren runs a school that doubles as a Gym. You battle in chalk-marked arenas out back.

I guess I misspoke; the aesthetic is still rich with this one. School day feels of being young are so very alive here, and I really like it.

Other things deserving of being liked are Cheren being an educator. Our buddy’s found his way, and we get to be his first challenger!

That’s another thing to love, honestly. We spent a whole game with this guy around, and now we’re his debut Gym Leader match. It’s so touching.

Cheren, stop blushing, you’ll be fine.

I mean. Dreamor’s going to mop the floor with you.

But that’s your job now. Losing to trainers of a certain level.

I believe in you, man.

I just believe in Dreamor more.

Awesomeness achieved, and that will do it for this part!

(Except for squeeing because Bianca showed up and gave us the Return TM, as well as the C-Gear I’ll never use, and Cheren and Bianca get to be in the same shot, and it’s the magic of friendship all over again. You did good for yourselves, guys. I’m sorry you don’t remember me as your bestie anymore.)

Until next time for the next badge.

[pandemicperipatetics]

Canada National Parks: Banff, Yoho, & More!

Lake Louise at sunrise

BANFF NATIONAL PARK

Banff National Park is an all-time favorite destination for us. The park has incredibly beautiful lakes and mountains, is close to multiple other incredible national parks (Yoho, Jasper), and has the lovely city of Banff. Banff is especially good for amazing views without much effort -- versus, say, Glacier National Park which is much better seen through its epic hikes.

The city of Banff itself looks like a European alpine village surrounded by jaw-dropping mountains, and it is a very comfortable place to stay – great food, nice and plentiful accommodations, and a shuttle that conveniently goes through town. It felt fairly similar to Jackson, WY – the billionaire-fueled resort town by Grand Teton National Park. We highly recommend staying in Banff and using it as your jumping-off point to any of the beautiful destinations in the area – we spent one night in Banff and two nights by Lake Louise and definitely preferred the former for better accommodations, food, and overall value for money.

Downtown Banff in the evening

WHAT TO DO (our favorites, starting with our most recommended)

1. Day Trip to Lake Louise (see our Lake Louise blog post for much more information)

Lake Louise at sunrise

a. What: A lovely lake that is the most famous attraction in Banff National Park, and has some wonderful hikes, teahouses nestled in the mountains, and the beautiful Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise. If you have half a day and are willing to hike about 13 miles, we REALLY recommend the teahouses hike. While you’re in the area, visit stunning Moraine Lake nearby as well!

b. Where: About 40 minutes’ drive from downtown Banff

c. What else to know:

Food and accommodation options in the Lake Louise area are limited, so it can be nice to stay in Banff for your entire trip and drive out to places like Lake Louise and Yoho National Park for day trips. This adds driving time but we think it is worth it.

Parking at Lake Louise can be very challenging – it is recommended to get there early or consider making a Banff shuttle reservation to get to and from the lake. We read somewhere that you can get your Lake Louise parking validated if you eat lunch at the Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise (we read it’s best to get a reservation at the hotel as it gets crowded). That said, when we visited on the Wednesday after Labor Day, there was plenty of parking both in the morning and the afternoon, and it seemed easy to pay at one of the walk-up pay stations in the parking lot.

2. Half-Day Trip to Yoho National Park (see our Yoho blog post for more information)

Emerald Lake in the afternoon

a. What: A national park bordering Banff that has some beautiful sights, especially Emerald Lake and Takkakaw Falls, and some neat mountain hikes that allow you to see impressive glaciers, gorgeous glacial lakes, and more beautiful scenery

b. Where: About 70 minutes’ drive from downtown Banff

3. Half Day or Day sightseeing other nearby lakes and scenic areas

Johnson Lake in the afternoon

a. What: See other nearby lakes like Johnson Lake, Lake Minnewanka, etc (the list goes on). And check out lovely sites like Johnston Canyon.

Minnewanka Lake in the afternoon

4. Spend an evening in downtown Banff

Dinner in downtown Banff

a. What: The downtown area is full of shops, food, and great views

b. Why: At a minimum, you’ll probably want to eat here. There are some really delicious food options!

c. What else to know: Parking can be hard to find and is paid in most parts of town; also, driving can get very jammed (as we experienced on Labor Day). There is a free parking lot by the train station that we were told usually has spots and is about a 10 min walk from downtown. We opted to take the ROAM shuttle around as it was incredibly convenient (a day pass costs CAD$5 per person; our hotel gave us day passes for free)

5. Drive the Icefields Parkway from Banff to Jasper

Bow Lake, one of the first stops along the Icefields Parkway from Banff to Jasper

a. What: A very scenic drive 

b. Why: It has many, many glaciers, icefields, glacial lakes, and otherwise impressive scenery

c. What else to know:

Download the Gypsy Guide app audio tour ($7.99 for Icefields parkway) for narration during your drive; it will guide you to popular stops along the way.

Even if you don’t have time for the whole drive, Bow Lake and Peyto Lake are early in the drive and very worthwhile to visit. If you have more time, the Columbia Icefield is amazing – you can literally walk right up to a glacier. Just check ahead of time that things are open – Peyto Lake was unexpectedly closed during our visit!

The entire drive from Banff to Jasper takes about 3 hours on a one-lane road. When I did this previously, a car accident caused a 3+ hour delay and we waited in an extremely long line of cars on the road. Make sure you have plenty of fuel before you get started and other preparations in case you get stuck on the road (snacks, warm clothes, etc.)

6. Hike Tunnel Mountain in Banff (~3km hike roundtrip, moderate)

View of Banff from Tunnel Mountain in the afternoon

a. What: This hike is a short but steep incline up to lovely views of the city of Banff.

b. Why: The views are great, and it’s a great starter hike to see the town and get into hiking mode.

c. Where: Just a few minutes’ drive from downtown Banff

d. How: Search for Tunnel Mountain in Google Maps – you’ll drive partway up the mountain and find a small parking lot. We visited in the afternoon on Labor Day and were able to find a spot immediately.

e. What else to know: If the sun is out, it can feel really hot during the hike – especially given the continuous incline – but it is cold and windy at the top, so take a jacket! There are plenty of good views to sit amongst the rocks or on the ground and have a snack at the top.

7. Drive through Kootenay National Park 

This is a national park that happened to be on our drive from Kalispell (near Glacier National Park) to Banff. The scenic drive through the park is exceptionally beautiful – gorgeous rivers, forests, and of course the Rocky Mountains. Going-to-the-Sun Road is one of Glacier’s main attractions, and we thought this drive was at least as nice.

We didn’t have time to stop at any of the attractions and aren’t sure if they would be worth the time (at least in comparison to all the things to do in nearby Banff National Park).

Note: There is no cell phone coverage on virtually the entire drive to Kootenay!

NOTABLE STUFF WE DIDN’T DO

1.Hiking at Johnston Canyon

a.       What: There are a couple of miles of trails to a well-known waterfall and a hike to the Ink Pots (water pools) that we read are incredible

b.       Why: It’s one of the top recommended attractions in/near the town of Banff!

c.       How: Map to Johnston Canyon in Google maps; it’s located between Lake Louise and Banff

d.       What else to know: The entire canyon was closed on Labor Day; when we arrived a ranger told us there had been an accident at the site that morning. Try to check that the Canyon is going before your visit.

2. Ride the Sulphur Mountain Gondola

a.       What: An expensive gondola ride to a high viewpoint in Banff (you can get a slight discount by booking online in advance or going after 5PM)

b.       What else to know: You can alternately take a steep hike up to the viewpoint, but Google and AllTrails reviews indicate the intensity of the hike may not be worth it, especially if you can take the gondola instead. We considered doing this but didn’t have time and didn’t want to take a potentially crowded gondola during the COVID-19 pandemic. Also, I took the gondola on a previous visit to Banff and have no recollection of it, so we figured it may not be worth the price.

 WHERE TO EAT (VEGETARIAN, OF COURSE)

We’re admittedly not the most informed on this, as we only stayed in the city of Banff for one night and otherwise ate mostly simple sandwiches that we made ourselves. However, on a previous visit to Banff, I recall the food downtown being really excellent.

One place we must recommend is Nourish Café, a vegetarian café (also very vegan-friendly) that has the most incredible food. We LOVED the mushroom ravioli in coconut sauce and thought the nachos and kimchi burger were also very good. We can’t wait to return to try more of their menu items.

We also adored Saffron for Indian food – the bhindi masala was out of this world and the dal tadka was also excellent.

By Lake Louise, the food options were SUPER limited (there were like 3 places open for dinner), but we were able to get a pretty good vegan pizza one night at Timberwolf Pizza, located inside the Lake Louise Inn. We were impressed that they had vegan cheese and that the pizza tasted pretty good!

 WHERE TO STAY

Given uncertainty around whether we would be allowed to cross the international border due to the COVID-19 pandemic, we booked our accommodations on the day we entered Canada. This meant a lot of options were booked out, and we didn’t have a ton of time to do research.

Banff: We loved the Rimrock Resort Hotel. It was admittedly much more luxurious than we were expecting or aiming for. The facility is gorgeous and customer service was excellent, especially helpful with managing the COVID tests that Canadian border patrol mandated we take during our visit. The location is right by the Sulphur Mountain Gondola and is easily accessible to town via the shuttle, which stops right in front of the hotel. The only downside: it is very expensive!

Lake Louise: We would have loved to stay at the infamous Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise, but it was booked out. We stayed instead at the nearby Paradise Lodge and were decidedly not impressed for how expensive it was – next time, if not the Fairmont Chateau then we will stay in Banff and drive out to Lake Louise. Note: There is also a very famous Fairmont hotel in Banff, and there is a fun podcast episode on the National Park After Dark podcast about ghost stories in this hotel.

Camping: We didn’t have a chance to look into camping options but would have loved to try this given how scenic the whole area is. Next time!

 LOGISTICS

Crossing the Border: US >> CAN

Crossing the border wasn’t the easiest process due to the COVID-19 pandemic. We had to:

1.       Register our anticipated border crossing online (or on a Canadian app) within 72 hours of our visit, no sooner. This entailed determining approximately what time and which city we would be crossing at, which required advanced planning.

2.       Take a COVID-19 diagnostic PCR test and receive results within 72 hours of our visit. We were able to book NAAT PCR tests (promised TAT is 24 hours, ours completed in under an hour) at a Walgreens in Montana – tests were in very short supply, so we woke up early 2 days before our desired testing date to snag testing slots as soon as they were released.

3.       Provide our passports and COVID-19 vaccination cards at the border: We had to provide the physical evidence, despite having uploaded images of the cards during our registration as well.

4.       Complete a take-home COVID-19 swab within 24 hrs of arrival: The Canadian border patrol agent informed us we were randomly selected to do this, and gave us VERY detailed written instructions that warned of possible fines and imprisonment for not completing the requirements. In brief, the take-home tests were much more involved than the U.S. Labcorp Pixel take-home test: we had to book a virtual appointment with a contracted testing company and meet with their agent over Microsoft TEAMS to walk us through self-administration of the nasal swab. This required Internet (not a given in the Canadian Rockies, so we were glad to be staying in a nice hotel in Banff) AND an ability to drop off the completed swabs to FedEx or schedule a pickup (which we delegated to our wonderfully helpful hotel), and overall took about 90 minutes of our time during our ~3 day trip to the Banff area. It wasn’t our favorite use of time, but we were very impressed by the Canadian government’s logistical prowess, especially when we received our test results within 72 hours of doing the swab!

Note: Crossing the border back to the U.S. was a very different experience. All we had to do was answer a few simple questions and show our passports. No COVID due diligence whatsoever.

 Entering Canada from the U.S.

A few helpful things to know:

1.       Pause and change your vehicle’s settings to display speeds in km instead of miles. Do this in Waze as well (Google maps seemed to automatically adjust to km). This will help you to follow local speed limits.

2.       Check if your car insurance covers you in Canada. Ours (Geico) has a note on its website that it does cover you for short visits to Canada but not long-term stays (>6 months).

 Entry Fees to Canada National Parks

You can purchase an annual family pass for approximately CAD $140 or a day pass for CAD $10 per person, valid until 4PM on the following day. The pass includes admission to all Canada National Parks. We opted for day passes for 3 days (CAD $60 for the two of us), lasting us from when we stopped at the ticket booth at the entrance to Kootenay National Park (Monday around 10AM) to Thursday at 4PM. We were given a timestamped pass to tape to our car’s dashboard.