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love-and-monsters · 3 years

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Deluges and Droughts

M water elemental X gn human, 7, 206 words

Your farm is being drowned by a flood, and, desperate to stop it, you recruit the services of a water elemental. But when the tides change, will you be able to help him?

It hadn’t stopped raining for the past eight days. The sky was still thick and gray, with clouds that descended to the treetops. It didn’t fall in a constant barrage, going back and forth between heavy rain and something of a drizzle, but it was nonstop. Even in your house, the air was damp and heavy.

You couldn’t get dry. Every day, you went out, checked your fields, and tried to care for your animals. The ground sloshed under your feet as you walked, muck loose under the grass. Your sheep bleated irritably at you whenever you entered the barn, usually dripping wet. The roof of the barn sagged dangerously in one area, a thick damp patch spreading toward the back. You made an effort to reinforce it, but there wasn’t a lot of chance it would hold. If the barn flooded, you would be in a lot of trouble.

When you woke up to water droplets trickling down your face and water seeping through your floor, you decided to go looking for a water elemental.

You fed your animals in a hurry, then strapped on your most waterproof boots, tugged on a raincoat, and headed out into the fields.

All elementals were tricky to find. They tended not to hang around humans settlements, mostly because they weren’t fans of humans in general. Rarely did they even take on human form. But you needed to find something that would stop the damn weather.

You hiked to the one spot in the fields near your house that would house a water elemental- a lake fed by a massive river. The banks had swollen and overflowed thanks to the abundance of rain, so you had to give it a wide berth. Once you had made it as close to the bank as you felt was safe, you swung your pack off your shoulders and started looking through it.

In your bag, you held what you hoped would be sufficient to summon a water elemental. There was a shell that had been formatted into something like a wind chime, or a bell, an offering of coins that had spend the past three days submerged in brackish water, and a few pieces of sea glass that you had collected from the beach as a child.

Delicately, you approached the edge of the water and placed the sea glass into the waves. Once they had been pulled away from shore, you placed the coins on the bank so the water lapped over them, and held the windchime out until it caught the wind and the soft sound of bells echoed across the water.

You took a deep breath. “You who lives in waves and water, who is one with the sky and sea and storms. Source of all life, I call to you, and request your presence.”

Your voice barely carried over the sound of rain against the lake. Wind whipped stinging cold raindrops against your face. You snuffled against the running of your nose. For several minutes, you stood on the shore of the lake, staring out into the misty silence.

Just as you were ready to assume it hadn’t worked, something out in the lake splashed. You felt your shoulders stiffen, creeping up toward your ears. Cold rain slithered down your back and dripped down your shoulders.

Something in the water splashed again. You squinted out over the lake, trying to make out anything through the haze of mist. As the splashing grew closer, you could see something moving under the water, a dark shape that grew more distinct the closer it got.

Within moments, the shape had approached the shore. It remained in the water for a moment, then the surface rippled and it emerged.

For a moment, its shape was indistinct, like a pillar of water was rising from the lake. Then the water rippled and started to take on a humanoid form. At first, the shape was only vague, like a shadow, then details started to emerge. It stood on the surface of the water as steadily as you were standing on dry land. The water seemed to solidify, not like ice, but like the water was growing thicker and thicker, drawing in tight until the details were evident.

He (he looked like a he) was taller than you, at least six and a half feet tall, with an impressively broad chest. His facial features were surprisingly detailed, from the hooked shape of his nose to the ice-white chips of his eyes. His hair looked like waterfall, rippling down his back and ending in a frothy white cap. He was entirely nude, but with doll anatomy, something you were both grateful for and slightly disappointed by.

“You were calling for me.” His voice had a strange quality to it, like the sound of waves against rocks. It was more intimidating than you’d expected and it sent a shiver wrapping down your spine.

“I did.” Your voice shook, but the water elemental barely seemed to take note of it. He stepped closer to the shore, where only a thin barrier of water kept him from stepping directly on land.

“And what did you summon me for?” the elemental asked. He sounded slightly impatient.

“The rain,” you said. “The land is drowning. It’s been raining nonstop for eight days. It’s destroying everything. I need your help to prevent it.”

The elemental looked at you levelly. He seemed neither surprised, nor concerned. “Yes, it has been raining. My own territory has been expanding thanks to this.” He tilted his head at you. “Did you wish for me to stop the rain?”

You swallowed. “Can you?”

“No.” His voice was cool and unconcerned. Despair rolled through you in a massive wave. “Nor would I if I could. The rain grants me great strength. I can feel it seeping into the land.” He lifted his arms and the mist seemed to thicken around him.

Panic lanced through you, hot and sharp. “Wait!” you said. The elemental looked at you. “What if I can make it worth your while?”

He lowered his hands again. “I would be terribly interested to see how you would do such a thing.”

You took in a deep breath. This plan would work. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully. “You gain power based on how much water you have in your… territory, right?” The elemental gave you a skeptical look, but he nodded. “So, obviously, you’re going to want more water in your territory, yes?”

“That would be beneficial to me, yes,” the elemental said. “You are offering to being me water?” He didn’t seem all that impressed.

“Sort of,” you said. “Water elementals can control water, right? If you really wanted to, you would be able to draw it out of the land.”

“Yes,” he said. “Thought it is rarely work the effort. If the water is in my territory, regardless of the form it takes, it adds to my power.”

“Well, if you come to my land, you can have the excess water. It’ll be added to your territory, so you’ll grow more powerful, and I’ll get rid of all the water I don’t need. It’s a win-win.”

The elemental looked at you for a long moment. He seemed to be thinking it over. His form rippled as if he were about to dissolve and your heart sank. Then he smiled wolfishly. “Yes. Your terms are acceptable.”

You sagged in relief. “Good. All right. Then we should start right now.” You started to head back up the bank, realized he wasn’t following you, and stopped. “Are you coming?”

He smiled, like you were being funny in some way you didn’t fully understand. “I require water to travel,” he said.

“It’s pretty wet,” you said. “You can’t travel in the rain or something?”

“There is not enough water in the air to sustain me,” he said. “And the ground would need to be much more saturated than it is for me to walk across it.”

Despite him pointing out problems with your plan, he didn’t seem all that concerned about it. You narrowed your eyes and folded your arms over your chest. “I assume you have some kind of plan?”

The elemental smiled. “Indeed.” He lifted one watery hand and pointed at you. “Humans are made of seventy percent water. Enough water for me to hitch a ride.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “What, you want me to carry you on my back all the way back to the farm?” you were strong, but you weren’t entirely sure if you could carry an entire man on your back over such a long distance.

The elemental’s smile grew wider. “Not precisely. I have an easier method in mind.” He held a hand out to you. “Touch me. You will see.”

That was mysterious, and you weren’t a huge fan of mysterious things. But you had a feeling he wasn’t going along with you unless you did as you were told. You gritted your teeth and placed your hand into his.

It was like you had thrown yourself face-first into the ocean and gone limp. The tide caught you and heaved you back and forth. Water rushed around you, tugging at your limbs almost hard enough to wrench them out of their sockets. As much as you could feel it on the outside of your skin, you could feel a tide pounding against your insides. Your blood pulsed in the same rhythm as the sea, like waves were crashing against the inside of your skin.

Gradually, you became aware of the ground underneath you once again. You were on your knees, sinking into the mud. Rain dripped down the back of your neck and soaked your hair. But within you, there was still that pounding of the tide. Your blood pounded through your veins, rushed in your ears. You were aware of the way it thundered through your veins, like the entirety of the ocean’s power had been tucked under your skin.

You forced your mouth open. “What did you do to me?” It was almost impossible to hear your own voice over the tides of your own body.

The voice didn’t come from outside. It echoed in your head, a rushing sound like a waterfall had learned to speak, like the tides in your body were forming words. Your body is seventy percent water, he repeated. I can stay within the water in you.

You pressed a hand to your chest. The tide still thrummed under your skin, but you were getting more used to it. The pulse was almost comforting, like a second heartbeat. “You’re inside me?”

In a manner of speaking. I am within the water you carry inside you. The rushing sensation within you grew stronger, as if the elemental was doing it deliberately. Now you may carry me back to the land with you. I will emerge, take in the water, and you can carry me back home.

Slowly, you got to your feet. You found yourself swaying involuntarily, moving with the tide inside you. Even though he was no longer speaking, you could feel the elemental lingering in the back of your mind. It was a sensation not unlike the feeling of being watched.

“Comfortable for your trip?” you asked, trying to sound casual. It didn’t work as well as you’d hoped. The tide pulsing inside you made it hard to focus. A sudden wave of amusement hit you, and you almost laughed before you realized that the amusement wasn’t your own. It was his.

You are actually quite comfortable. The tide inside you gave a powerful surge, like the elemental was shifting in some strange way. I have not done this in a very long time. Your body is far better than my last travel partner. They were tight. You are not too cramped and not too large. Cozy. Your blood surged once more and you had to stop moving to reorient yourself.

“Can you try not to move so much? It’s… uncomfortable.” The elemental didn’t say anything, but you felt his answering apology. After allowing your heartbeat to stabilize once more, you headed back home.

You trudged across the flat, open plains. You felt hyperaware of the water against your skin now, like every trickling drop of rain was electrified. The water elemental pounded through your bloodstream, heavy and heady with power. You felt like you could taste the storm as it rolled across the sky.

Something in the back of your mind shifted and your attention refocused. Somehow, you weren’t entirely aware of how, you could feel the water elemental poking around in your head. He seemed to be flipping through your memories with the mild interest you associated with looking through an acquaintance’s photo journal of their vacation.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked out loud. The water elemental spared you only the tiniest flicker of attention before returning to his sifting.

I want to know about the life of my carrier, he said. I know so little about humans. You are fascinating.

“Fascinating as I may be, I don’t appreciate you- hey!” The elemental hovered on an image of you and your ex buried in a particularly heated kiss. “Cut that out!”

Swapping fluids seems to be a particularly intimate form of human communication, the elemental said. There was no mistaking the amusement in his tone. I approve.

“Cut it out!” you protested. The elemental’s amusement became thicker in your head, swirling like some heady storm. Fine. Two could play at this game. He was inside you, his thoughts inside your head. All you had to do was swim against the tide and-

You plunged into his mind like diving into a great ocean. The currents of his thoughts buffeted you, but you were able to turn against it. A memory drifted by you, buoyed on a stream of thought, and you reached for it.

He twisted, curling, a puddle barely big enough to stand in, but he could feel it, the rain and the stream that fed him. Yes, he was here, he was new, but he could grow stronger and powerful-

The storm overhead raged and he raged with it, his surface surging to catch every drop of water. The river that fed him was swollen, overspilling its banks and feeding him in a great, surging wave of power. He could feel it growing stronger, yes, yes, the power, the feeling of becoming greater, stronger-

It was the sun, the blazing heat that was destroying him. He slunk to the depths of his lake, barely able to feel the trickle of his river feeding him. No matter how hard he struggled, he could still feel the pull of each tiny drop being drawn away from him by the sun, a slow death of heat until he was nothing more than a damp patch on the ground-

The sun was hot, but his river was feeding him and the air was thick with delicious humidity. Humans splashed in his shallows. He looked at them curiously, feeling their motions through the water. They played, hands entwined, laughing with delight at the feeling of his water. Delighting in him, in his power. His awareness was drawn to the two humans at the edge of the lake, standing in his shallows, their bodies pressed together, mouths connected. Some strange emotion flared within him, something tender and sad and happy all at once-

Enough! Something slammed into your mind, like you were being violently shoved. You wobbled in place, the unsteadiness in your mind transferring into your body. The water elemental surged within you, twisting and writhing. Stay out!

There was rage in his voice, but it barely managed to conceal his terror. You looking into his mind had scared him- he hadn’t known you could do that. “I could say the same to you,” you replied. The elemental churned inside you for a moment, but you could feel his anger wane.

Very well. Truce. He did the mental equivalent of turning his back on you, deliberately putting his attention somewhere else. You waited for a moment to make sure he wasn’t just trying to get your guard down, then continued walking toward your home.

The ground sloshed under your feet as you entered the outstretches of your land. The fibers of grass were no longer properly holding the ground together, and you could feel everything slipping under you, threatening to trip you up. It was part of the reason you hadn’t been letting your sheep out. The last thing you needed was for one of them to get stuck in the mud and break their leg.

The skies opened up once more as you approached your barn and you picked up the pace, hurrying get inside. The water elemental perked up as the rain drenched you, soaking through your clothes and straight to your skin.

Your sheep bleated anxiously as you stepped into your barn. The damp patch on the roof was still dripping and starting to sag dangerously. Your concern about that, however, paled under the sudden weight of the elemental’s curiosity. What are those!?

“They’re sheep,” you said. “Have you never seen sheep before?”

No. The elemental cautiously started poking at your mind again, shuffling through your memories.

“Hey!” you said. The elemental froze guiltily. “No looking through memories, got it? If you just ask, I’ll tell you.”

The elemental shifted sulkily in the back of your mind for a moment, then stretched out toward you again. What are sheep?

“They’re, uh.” Well, you hadn’t wanted him to poke through your mind, but now that you were actually being questioned, you weren’t sure how to explain sheep. “Uh, they’re animals. They grow wool that I shear and sell and sometimes I butcher them, if they get too old or injured. I take care of them, deliver lambs when it’s lambing season. They’re a lot of work, but it’s better than working in an office or something.” You gave one of the sheep an affectionate pat. It bleated at you. “And they go ‘baah.’”

I am aware. They are doing so right now. Another one of the sheep butted against your hand and gave a low bleat.

The sheep gathered around you, nuzzling and butting at your hands. As much as he was clearly trying to hide it, the elemental was delighted by the sheep. When you brushed your hand along their wool, he could barely suppress his glee.

You spent several moments indulging his curiosity before another groan from the roof drew your attention. A few splatters of water slipped through and splashed on the ground. “Okay. We should actually do what we came here to do. Can you control the water or something?”

Not from in here. Do you have water that I can enter? You snagged one of the basins that you’d been using to collect the dripping water and dragged it a little ways away from the sheep.

“Will this work?”

Well enough. If a bit cramped. Place your hand in the water. You crouched and rested the palm of your hand on the surface of the water. The elemental shifted inside you once more. It was a strange, twisting sensation, and the pull and rock of the tide began to yank at you once more. You closed your eyes, breathing in and out slowly. For a moment, you could feel the elemental pouring himself out of you. Then there was a strange quiet in your body.

Your body was lighter without him inside you. But there was also something strangely empty about it. For some time, you had felt the power of the elemental pulsing inside you. Now there was nothing in its place, and you felt light, but also disconnected. You couldn’t even feel the pulse of your own blood.

“Are you well?” The voice drew you out of your thoughts. The elemental was looking down at you, formed from his knees-up in a bucket of water. It was a little bit of a ridiculous sight.

“I’m okay. Just- I don’t know, it feels a little like when you’ve been straining your muscles for a while, then you stop and you kind of feel all floaty?” The elemental tilted his head to one side, eyes completely blank. “Oh. Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t know a lot about that, huh?” You stood up from where you’d fallen on your butt and brushed the dirt off your pants. “What do you need to do now?”

The elemental closed his eyes. “I must gather the water to me. I should be able to collect a great deal of it- possibly enough to stop the oversaturation of the land.” His form wavered and shifted like he was taking in a deep breath.

Your skin started to tingle all over, almost like static electricity. The air felt thick and damp as you tried to pull it into your lungs. Dampness stuck to your skin. It felt like the air itself was growing thicker, like you were trying to breathe underwater. The sheep bleated and shifted frantically.

Just when you were sure the air was about to turn to water and you were going to drown on land, the tension that had been rising in the air popped. Within a second, the air went from nearly oversaturated to bone dry. Your mouth had been open as you tried to suck in breath and you felt the moisture wick itself from your tongue. You choked as your mouth and throat were completely dried. The sheep were shifting in a near panic, crushing up against you.

Something soft and jelly-like hooked itself around your waist and dragged you across the floor, taking you away from the panicked sheep. You fumbled, trying to seize the appendage, but your fingers went right through it. Yelping, you pulled your soaking hands back. It was water, a column of water that had just enough solidity against your skin to pull you around. You followed the column with your eyes. It led back to the water bucket. The elemental was looking back at you, expression placid.

You made an attempt to speak, but your mouth was still completely dry. Your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth and no matter how much your throat spasmed, you couldn’t swallow.

“Apologies,” the elemental said. “I was only trying to pull water from the air. I didn’t expect it to pull water from you as well. You should probably have kept your mouth closed.” You were too busy trying to get your mouth to not feel like you’d been chewing sand to replay. “Here. Drink.”

You refocused on him. He had changed position in the bucket, turned fully toward you and lowered, like he was kneeling. His hands were out in front of him, cupped around a drop of water. It was clearly differentiated from the water of his hands, glistening like an oversized dewdrop.

It was fundamentally pretty weird, but you were too thirsty to bother with any sort of discomfort. You bent your head forward and slurped the water up from his palms. It was ice cold and it tasted crystalline and sweet, better than any other water you’d ever tasted. Whether that was just due to how thirsty you were or if he had some sort of way of making water taste delicious, you didn’t know.

Once you had drunken your fill, the elementa withdrew his hands. “I pulled as much water from the land as I could. I will guarantee nothing, but I should have taken enough to prevent any more flooding. Possibly even enough to lessen the storms.”

You turned to look at your leaking roof. The damp patch was completely gone, dry as if it had never been there. The roof still sagged alarmingly, but that was something you could fix. Peeking out the barn door showed that the sky had lightened considerably. There was even sunlight peeking through a few tiny gaps.

“Thank you,” you said. The elemental looked away from you, one of his shoulders rising and falling in a smooth shrug.

“It was a beneficial arrangement for the both of us. There is no need to thank me.” His voice was oddly reedy, a quieter trickle of water than the great rushing noise that his voice usually was.

“Still. I’m grateful.” You tilted your head in a gesture of appreciation. The water elemental made a noise similar to a grunt. “Give me a few minutes to inspect everything.”

He rolled his eyes, but also waved a hand dismissively. You took that as a sign to leave and hurried outside.

The fields outside were firm under your feet as you ran toward your house. Even the air was free from the oppressive mugginess that had surrounded you for over a week. It was easier to breathe.

A quick jog around your property revealed that the awful dampness had receded and everything felt much clearer than before. The worry that had been resting in your chest for the past few days lessened.

When you returned to the barn, the elemental was crouched in the bucket, holding his hands out to the sheep. They appeared to be biting and snapping at his hands, fighting for the best position. A snap of alarm went through you. “Hey! Back up!” You clapped your hands and the sheep scattered obediently.

The elemental straightened back up. “They aren’t harming me. I believe they were thirsty.”

“Yeah, they’ve got water buckets,” you said. The elemental turned his attention to you as you approached. “Ready to go home?”

“I am. Brace yourself. This will feel… more than before.” He extended his hands toward you as you reached back toward him.

The instant your fingers came in contact with his, you were hit once more by the sensation of a powerful wave crashing over you. This time, you were braced for the sensation. It didn’t knock you on your ass, but you felt the power.

It was stronger than before, the pounding of water in your veins. The elemental surged in the back of your mind. Pressure pounded against the inside of your skin, thundered in your ears.

Move with the tide. You are fighting it. The elemental’s voice sounded in the back of your mind, above the pounding waves. You relaxed, letting your hackles drop. The water pulled you along and, for a moment, you felt that you were going to drown. Then the tide calmed and you found yourself drifting, pulled gently by the water.

You opened your eyes. The sheep had scattered back, giving you a wide berth. The elemental’s thought surged in the back of your mind, a sudden and intense urge to pet them.

You laughed and gave the sheep affectionate pats as you headed out of the barn. “You know, you can come back and pet them any time you want.”

The elemental shifted in the back of your mind, disgruntled and a little embarrassed at being caught. I cannot. This is outside my territory and I cannot be brought here without being carried.

“Oh.” The disappointment you felt was surprisingly keen. You felt the elemental shifting in your mind, like he was trying not to look at your feelings. Embarrassed that your thoughts had an audience, you distracted yourself by trudging across the land.

You were back at the edge of the lake sooner than you’d anticipated. The elemental surged with excitement at being back in his home territory. You could feel the boundary in your own body, like a massive case of the warm fuzzies. It almost made you giggle, like being tickled from the inside out.

The edge of the lake lapped over your feet as you approached. You crouched and placed your hands beneath the surface of the water. This time, however, the elemental didn’t come pouring out of you. He hesitated, churning beneath your skin. you could feel his longing to go home war with some strange other desire that you couldn’t place.

“Don’t you want to leave?” you asked, keeping your voice as gentle as possible.

Yes. I am merely making sure that I don’t pull the water out of your body when I leave. His statement would have been more intimidating if you hadn’t been able to feel how flustered he was.

“You didn’t have to do that before,” you teased. The elemental only got more flustered, twisting within you like a cyclone.

I am leaving. Again came that strange pouring sensation and you fell back on your rear in the mud. The elemental rose out of the water in front of you. He looked more solid than he had before, his hair billowing around him in misty waves.

“Okay,” you said, standing up and brushing your pants off once more. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“I suppose it is,” the elemental said. Despite being composed entirely of water, he managed to look as stiff as a board as he spoke to you. “If you ever wish to summon me again, simply place you hand in the water and call for me. I will come.”

“I don’t know your name,” you said. The elemental shrugged.

“Elementals rarely take names. If you wish for something to call me, pick anything. I’ll be fine with it.”

You considered for a moment. “Cerulean,” you said. “I’ll call you Cerulean.” He shrugged.

“If that is what you wish to call me.” His voice sounded mostly even, but he had been in your head and you had been in his and he couldn’t completely hide his pleased embarrassment from you. “Farewell, human.”

With that, he dissolved into the water. You looked out over the surface of the water for a moment, feeling the cool mist of rain on your skin, then you turned around and returned home.

You had planned to visit him sooner, but it ended up being over a month before you went back to the lake. Life was busy as ever, and the weather had one-eightied so sharply that walking to the lake had been profoundly unappealing. It was hot, the sort of heat that made you think crawling into an oven might be the cooler option.

When you hit the third day of drought warnings, you decided to go see Cerulean. Just out of concern. After filling two massive canteens with cold water and strapping them to your thighs, you headed out.

Your house was well-watered, thanks to an underground reservoir, so the drought wasn’t affecting you all that much. But you’d heard that several rivers had dropped precipitously in level, and your mind kept wandering back to the image Cerulean had inadvertently showed you- the one where he struggled in the blazing heat, in a tiny puddle, feeling himself drawn away bit by bit.

The lake had receded. The edge of the lake that you’d stood upon to summon Cerulean for the first time was dry as a bone. The edge of the water, several feet away, was murky with muck and silt. You walked closer and dipped your hand beneath the surface.

“Cerulean?” The water was barely cool to the touch. Sweat dripped down your back as you bent forward. “Cerulean!”

There was silence. Panic flickered in your chest. “Come on, where are you?” You unhooked one of the canteens from your side and dumped the water into the lake. The water rippled. Some distance away, the surface of the lake shifted.

Hope sparked in your chest. “Cerulean!” You dumped the other canteen and plunged your hand back under the water. “Can you hear me?”

The water underneath your hand surged, reaching up until it was encasing your forearm. Slowly, as though it was taking a monumental effort, the water shifted and formed Cerulean’s torso.

“It’s you again,” he said. His form wavered, threatening to fall apart. “I’m afraid if you need my help, I am not in the right condition to do so.”

“I came here because I thought you might need my help!” you said. “Are you okay? The lake looks really low. And the river…” The usual flowing water that fed into the lake was barely more than a trickle.

Cerulean pulled his form further together, rising out of the water to his knees. “I have been… I suppose the human term for it would be asleep? It conserves my energy, but I am not aware of the world around me.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you said. “Mostly okay, anyway. I was worried about you, with the drought.”

“Is that why you brought water with you?” he asked, gesturing to the empty canteens.

“I thought, maybe if the lake levels dropped enough, these might help.”

“It would take monumental effort for a human to maintain the lake in the middle of a drought,” Cerulean said dismissively. “Especially considering your own water needs.”

“I’ve got enough water,” you said. “But the lake looks bad.” It had lost at least half its volume since the rains had stopped.

“I have had worse,” Cerulean said.

“They’re not predicting rain for at least another week,” you said. “And that’s only going to be a drizzle, probably. Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“There is little I can do about it either way,” Cerulean said with a flowing shrug. “If there is a drought, there is a drought.”

“What happens if the lake totally dries up?” you asked.

“I die,” Cerulean said. “In a manner of speaking. I will evaporate. Eventually I will reconstitute, but I will lack my memories.”

“So, you’ll forget me?” you asked.

“I will forget everything,” Cerulean said. “That includes you, yes.” He shifted in the water, his form rippling. “This upsets you?”

“A little,” you said.

Cerulean looked as though he didn’t know how to feel about that. His expression rippled, facial features dissolving before he managed to reform them. “Then I will endeavor to remain here,” he said. “Though I have little control over it.”

“Is there a way you could get to a more secure location?” you asked. “Somewhere with more water?”

“If there was another lake or pond of some sort that was not already occupied by a water elemental, it would be possible for me to move there. But there are no areas close by that are suitable.”

“You would know if there were other elementals nearby?” you asked.

“I would sense it,” Cerulean confirmed. “We can tell when we cross into another’s territory, and we can sense where our own territory boundaries end.”

“There weren’t any on my land, were there?” you asked.

“No. I did not sense any when I was there. Though I was not particularly looking hard for anything.”

You considered that for a moment. “Would the lake have to be above ground?”

Cerulean gave you a funny look. “No. Any particularly large body of water would work.”

“Okay. Well. If you’re okay with it, I might have somewhere in mind.”

It took some convincing to let Cerulean come check out the underground reservoir. He was reluctant to leave his home, especially when he was in such a vulnerable state. Eventually, however, you pointed out that there was no harm in just taking a look at it.

“If it will make you happy,” he finally sighed. He poured himself into you again. This time, it no longer felt like an overwhelming wave of power. It was weak, barely enough to make your blood pound. Worry crawled through you at how weak he was.

Your worry is irritating, Cerulean said in your mind. You felt a little embarrassed at the intrusion, but your concern overpowered that.

“Let me worry a little bit. You’re not used to someone being worried over you, huh?” you said. Cerulean bristled in the back of your mind.

No. Elementals are solitary by nature. But you could feel his mind in yours and, as much as he tried to hid it, you could feel that he was pleased someone was caring for him.

You trudged across the land until you got into your house. Cerulean’s attention shifted to the sheep with interest. “We can look at them in a bit,” you said. His attention snapped away again and there was a swell of irritation and poorly hidden embarrassment.

There was a well not too far from your house that was also attached to the reservoir, and that seemed to be the easiest way for him to get to it. You carefully filled the bucket and pulled it up. “You can get in the bucket, and then I can lower you to check it out. Will you need help getting back up?”

No. I will find my own way out. There are many connections to other areas. Cerulean flowed away from you. The water in the bucket rippled and shifted as he entered. You replaced the bucket on the hook and cranked the winch until the bucket had vanished with a quiet splash.

You sat by the edge of the well, swinging your legs. The minutes ticked on as you waited for him to return. By the time thirty minutes had passed, you were starting to get nervous. Could he actually get out on his own, or was he just being overconfident? How would you even get him back out?

Just when you were starting to consider actually getting in the well, your sheep set up a bleating alarm. You scrambled to your feet and bolted toward your barn.

It took you a moment to discover the source of the alarm. One of the spigots had turned itself on and was gushing water onto the ground. Your sheep bleated and skittered away from it. Grimacing at the interruption, you stalked over and tried to twist the spigot back off.

It refused to turn, no matter how much force you tried to put into it. Water splattered at the ground, forming a puddle that soaked your toes. You grimaced. God dammit, you couldn’t afford to be wasting water.

Just as you were about to go find some tools to shut the water off, a familiar form emerged from the water. Cerulean gazed steadily at you, a faint smile gracing his face. He looked far stronger than he had at the lake. His hair was a waterfall behind him and his form was so solid it was hard to see through.

“I thought it was connected to your house,” he said. “It took me some time to fond the correct pipes.” One of the sheep cautiously stepped closer to him and he offered a watery hand. “The reservoir is much larger than I anticipated. It descends a great deal underground and is fed by multiple rivers. Even with water being drawn out of it, the whole thing dwarfs my lake.”

“Then it works for you?” you asked. Cerulean smiled.

“It is a far better territory than my old one, even if there were not a drought.” Cerulean hesitated for a moment. “You would be all right with me taking up residence here?”

“It’s mutually beneficial, isn’t it?” you said. “You have a safe location from the drought, and I’ve got someone who can help out my farm if the rains come back.”

Cerulean gave a small, soft smile. “Mutually beneficial. Yes.”

Weeks passed and you got used to his presence on the farm. It wasn’t uncommon for one of your taps to turn itself on and for Cerulean to appear in your sink or tub or wherever he felt like turning up. Eventually, his presence became a near-constant thing. He would assist on the farm, keep you company in the evenings, and even managed to be good enough at math to help you with your taxes, which was certainly not something you were expecting.

A couple of months after he had come to the farm, you returned home and sank onto your couch. Cerulean peered at you from the kitchen. “Are you well?”

“Sore. Ugh, my muscles are killing me. I don’t know what I did, but I think something happened to my back.” You lay on your stomach, groaning as your back muscles strained and protested. “I’m not moving from this couch.”

Cerulean slipped closer to you. “Would you like some help?”

You opened one of your eyes. “You can help with this?”

Cerulean answered by flowing his shape over you. It was cool for a moment, then it warmed until it was pleasantly heated against your skin. Then the water started to move, currents buffeting your muscles like a massage.

You let out a low groan. “Oh, that’s so good. Thank you, thank you.” your mind hazed with pleasure as you drifted into a state where the only thing present was the feeling of your sore muscles being soothed.

“I miss you,” you murmured absently. Cerulean paused and you whined in displeasure.

“I’m right here,” Cerulean said, sounding more amused than annoyed.

“I know, but- you remember when you were in my head? I miss that. It was… nice.” You felt relaxed, so relaxed that you were no longer able to guard the words coming from your mouth. “I could feel what it was like to be you for a little bit.”

Cerulean’s massage started again. “You enjoyed that?” There was a long pause. “I enjoyed it as well.”

“Maybe we can do it again sometime,” you said.

Cerulean was quiet for a moment longer. “If we are thinking of experiences we would like to try,” he said slowly, “perhaps there is something else we can try. In the show we watched the other day, some humans did something I was interested in.”

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Yeah? What was it?”

Cerulean leaned forward, tilting his head and his mouth pressed to yours. It was cool and strangely textured, but it tasted sweet and bright as spring water and it made your stomach flutter.

“Do you- Do you know what that means?” you asked as soon as his mouth broke away from his. Cerulean couldn’t blush, but you saw tiny cyclones swirling inside him that indicated he was flustered.

“It’s a gesture of affection,” he murmured. “Between humans who are living together. And it often leads to other things, that often occur between humans who are close.” He leaned his head close to yours again. “I enjoy spending time with you. I feel close to you. And it would be mutually beneficial.”

His tone became more flustered the longer he spoke. Perhaps if you hadn’t been in his head, you would have believed it was just for some passing curiosity. But you knew the look in his eyes, could detect how flustered he was and how much he wanted this. And you had to be honest: you wanted it too.

“Mutually beneficial, huh?” you said, voice teasing. “Well, if it’s mutually beneficial, then why not?”

As Cerulean’s form shifted and flowed over you, trying to cover your body, you murmured a quiet, “I love you.” He didn’t respond, but you knew he had heard you. And he would say it back when he was ready.

For now, you were just happy to have him with you.

#exophilia #monsterxhuman #monster boyriend #water elemental #monster lover #my writing #OC

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harriertail · 3 years

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ooh, do you have any tips on doing fan wc covers? for example what size do you make them in, what font do you use, etc? your covers are very inspiring, it makes me want to try doing something like that too! im just... not sure where to begin

I’ve got a more comprehensive tutorial in the works but my process of doing them is basically have the bg be more background/location focused, ie a lakeshore meeting or walk through the forest, and the cat head be one of the main characters. Technically they are just an A4 size (depends on ur programme i think) and the text font is Source Serif Pro Semibold. The brushes are clip studios Gouache, Dry Gouache and Thin Gouache Brush. Gouache for blocking, dry for rocks and fur blending, thin for details. Regarding the actual composition of the covers... this might get long.

I’m a huge unironic fan of the skew-iffness of McLoughlin’s cats- the wrong eye colour, wrong description, round faces, weird eye and muzzle shapes, etc in the covers and Ultimate Guide. It’s charmin as fuck. For his background’s he’s honestly a master of colour. His red rocks have yellows, creams, gray-greens and blues. His green trees are yellow, blue, orange and indigo. His snow is pale blue, purple, green, or orange and red and white. Go wild with the colours on the first pass. Check out his other work as well for a better sense of this, he’s got a great American sense of the huge outdoors, (despite being born in the UK- he’s welsh but served in Vietnam. Anyway) it’s kinda reminiscent of Romanticism in a way and the series took a huge L in not hiring an artist to replicate this sense of grandeur and reverence for the outdoors for the new covers and chose to focus on the actual cats in a very safe way. I actually love McLoughlin’s work for I’m bias. His ammunition adverts are great lol im so gettin a print. Back to the actual covers. Pick a scene of the book, sketch in, keep the focus mainly in the bottom 1/3. The top can slack on detail due to the title and cat head. I like to give my covers a sense of cohesion- you can look at it without a title and know it is from X series (ie my New Dawn covers follow a rainbow colour, a WIP set of covers i have all have a shot of a lake in them, my TGL covers all focus on the sky) Where the fuck am i going with this? Tips. Pick a good scene that sums up the story- ie Rising Storm has Fireheart by the Thunderpath with Tigerclaw watching him. Keep colours strong, the natural colours are always amplified, shadows blue/purple, rarely use black. The rough pass is usually one layer for me and then i paint above that. I try use as little layers as possible to keep a “traditional one canvas one layer” feel. Cats/figures in the background have a lot of different colours on them- yellow, blue, red, etc. Fur detail is suggested with texture. Same with the background. No smooth gradients, use a brush to make gradients. Light and shadow are amplified. Highlights are a bit unnatural but make sense. Honestly just draw it. There’s no real ‘tutorial’ to it. Just throw urself into it and get the cover down! If you have any more specific questions please ask me! Or just come talk about why the mcloughlin covers are better. Idk. Enjoy a bear watching a basketball hoop in a forest.

#warrior cats #ask #tutorial #cover tutorial #thanks for all da love i am always willing to talk about covers or mr mcloughlin lol

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docholligay · 3 years

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Not trying to convince you to watch Perfect Blue as I havent seen it either, just want to give some context that the tonedeaf person missed. I have seen several posts that showed how Black Swan copied a few scenes from Perfect Blue frame by frame. There was an allegation that the BS director claimed he got permission from PB director but he actually didn't. I never looked into it since I didnt follow them but that is why this subject is tense in some anime community.

Okay so I wanted to be very thoughtful before I answered this, because I undersold myself a little bit in the off the cuff last post--I was on my phone and freshly annoyed at the memory.

But first, I want to admit to some bias in this topic, and it's not the bias you think! The bias is: I very much like several media properties that have come out of Japan. But.

I Fucking HATE the "anime community." I cannot at all deal with their weird sense of Japanese supremacy, and their intense desire to suck off Japan so hard it blows out the back of their head like a .44. People snackin on pocky in their anime t-shirts talking about how they're learning Japanese because Tokyo is THE DREAM and oh my gosh I would LOVE to live in Japan, they annoy the shit out of me, often! It is possible to learn Japanese like a normal person, but often the people I come across in this ~line of work~ are NOT those people. Japan is a major colonial and imperialist world power in the east and I have no idea why so many Westerners stan for it SO DRAMATICALLY, so when I am talking about this issue, I am bringing ALL of my baggage with that to the table. The jump to call an anime version of an idea superior raises my hackles immediately. And I want to call that out as a specific bias of mine!

That being said. I am not a normal denizen of the internet, I guess? When I see a claim, if it sparks something in me, I try to actually chase it down.

I undersold myself when I said, "I went to the wikipedia and read the plot" though that DID happen, and that, honestly, WAS enough. I went on a deep dive on this issue, and frankly I know the plot of Perfect Blue so well at this point that Jetty was trying to remember what she says into the mirror at the end, and I supplied it immediately. I have read every breakdown, considered the issue from every side.

Cut because this ended up being super long

There is a word I think y'all would REALLY benefit from learning, because I think that so many of these conversations would benefit from it, and I legitimately feel y'all do not know it!

The word is: Derivative

Black Swan is no reasonable way a copy of Perfect Blue. None. Zero. Zilch. To say that it is means you have not seen one or the other of the works. But if someone said, "I found it overly derivative for my tastes" that would be fine!

All derivative means, to simplify the literary term, is that it draws upon earlier works. I think it would be fair to call Black Swan derivative of Perfect Blue, though I maintain that the idea of double lives and personalities, the Jekyll and Hyde this, is old as the fucking tides, and I do not find Perfect Blue to be ~shockingly original~ or whatever (which doesn't mean it can't be good, or even excellent. Again, I'm very frustrated it all came down this way because I think I would have liked Perfect Blue QUITE a lot.)

It's interesting and important to note: Aronofsky OWNS the American rights to Perfect Blue. He PAID for them. If he just wanted to remake the movie, he ABSOLUTELY could have done that. Because he PAID for the privilege. He did in fact "get permission" because he paid for it with fucking cash.

Aronofsky is a huge fan of Kon and has never made any bones about it. He contributed to a tribute book of Kon's work. They've met and "expressed admiration for" each other's work. (I read that article in translation from the Japanese, so its sketchy, but I got the gist) This is the actual quote what Aronofsky said re: the similarities:

"Not really, there are similarities between the films, but it wasn’t influenced by it. It really came out of Swan Lake the Ballet, we wanted to dramatize the ballet, that’s why it’s kind of up here and down there, because ballet is big and small in lots of ways."

There are ABSOLUTELY individual SECONDS, SECONDS LONG scenes that mirror Perfect Blue, but the STORY does not. I have no FUCKING idea how you can read the cliff notes versions of both and be like, 'Oh yeah that's the same story." So if we want to get into a discussion/argument about theft versus homage, that's great and all, but it comes down to Aronofsky lifting visual moments from Kon in the same way other directors lift from Kubrick or Welles or whoever they happen to be obsessed with. It's a thing directors do.

The similarities between the two are surface level. They deal with entirely different takes on the central idea of of pressure and womanhood. Black Swan is "A rip off of" Perfect Blue as much as every magical girl show is a "rip off" of Sailor Moon. See how that's unfair and overly reductionist? But its five girls in color coded outfits and one of them is chosen LOL RIPOFF but its fine because anime is life.

Also, uhhhhh....Aronofsky didn't fucking write the story. Heinz did. He is the writer. Aronofsky optioned it because clearly these kinds of stories are His Thing. His idea to make this kind of movie came from a screenplay he optioned called The Understudy, that also had the idea of the double personality, and the stage. IS everyone on earth just cribbing from Kon? Or is this just maybe a thing that's staggeringly common in horror stories?

Really, the loser here is me because I could have had "two cakes!" but now every fucking time I think of Perfect Blue I realize how much I hate the way people interact with anime, and wonder how many delightful things do I miss out on because people refuse to be Be Normal.

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bloededhoine · 3 years

Text

world building cause twn doesn't part 8: nonhumans

this is easily the geekiest part of the series. and it's a Very geeky series. because sapkowski's worldbuilding is waaay more extensive than i have the time, ability, or desire to convey, i'm sticking with races both sentient and important

colour code cause i fucking love colour codes - already happened/introduced, probably s2, important background info, stuff that might be in the prequel, extras

series masterpost

dopplers

dopplers, also known as vexlings, shifters, mimics, doubles, imitators, or pavrats, are a nonhuman race that can take on the appearance of nearly anyone they encounter

before mass migrations of humans, dopplers primarily inhabited the forests and plateaus around the city of novigrad, where they would transform into wolves and pack animals to hunt

their abilities are pretty impressive, dopplers can not only mimic appearance but also voice, personality, skills, behaviours, and knowledge. dopplers can even turn parts of their bodies into pieces of clothing or other objects

however, there are some limitations

dopplers can't transform into someone/thing with dramatically more mass than they have, are burned by silver, and can't drop anything they created (if they did it would kind of turn into a fleshy goop)

we've already met a doppler in twn, this sexy sexy man

BUT

it is important to note that this doppler is a huge deviation from sapkowski's lore. dopplers are pretty much always exceptionally kind and gentle. a lot of times they use their abilities to appear threatening (big teeth, sharp claws etc) because they really don't want to hurt anyone.

when dopplers aren't mimicking another form, they aren't exactly pretty. they're bald, short, have beady yellow eyes, and kinda look like they're made from soft clay

here's the hexer doppler

the most notable doppler is dudu biberveldt, who i mentioned as the halfling dainty biberveldt's fake cousin. dudu's actual name is tellico lunngrevink letorte, but dainty decided to help dudu live in novigrad by adopting him as his fake cousin.

dragons

dragons are fucking awesome. you know it, i know it, and zerrikanians know it. witcher dragons are especially awesome

they are the only being, other than cats, that can naturally harness and absorb the force of chaos

there are multiple subtypes, but most dragons fall into one of four: black dragons, green dragons, red dragons, and white dragons.

black dragons are the largest, and primarily live in swamps and wetlands where they bathe in mud. they have extremely hard scales and don't breathe fire, but an acid that causes burns similar to those from mustard gas.

green dragons (right there) are the most prominent yet smallest species of dragon, mainly living in forested areas and breathe highly flammable chlorine gas.

red dragons mainly live in hills and mountain caves and can breathe fire hot enough to melt metal

white dragons are one of the rarest species and live in the far north, and can breathe frost

however, if you watched the witcher netflix as i assume you did, you may remember golden dragons. these dragons are so rare and exceptional that they are not usually included with other species. they breathe steam and fire and can shapeshift into any living being

all dragons communicate through telepathy, although golden dragons can speak when they are in the form of a species that can speak

humans are pretty divided on the topic of dragons, with zerrikanians worshiping them and nordlings hating them.

because they are incredibly intelligent and emotional, witchers (generally) refuse to hunt them

borkh three jackdaws, also known as villentrenmerth, is the only golden dragon we know. there he is right there.

ASSASSINS OF KINGS SPOILERS NEXT TWO BULLET POINTS

the other dragon from twn was a green dragon named myrgtabrakke, borkh's mate. their daughter is named saesenthessis, also known as saskia the dragonslayer (an alias she took to explain her extensive knowledge of dragons) and the virgin of aedirn

because saskia is part golden dragon, she can shapeshift, although is much more limited than her father. she can basically only be a human looking woman with blonde hair or a huge dragon.

cut because this part is getting REALLY long

godlings

ah godlings. i love them so much. they're adorable and precious. they usually look somewhat like a human child, but with blue skin and large amber or green eyes. they don't wear much clothes, their focus is in accessories like jewelry, flowers, or tattoos

that's johnny, a holding in wild hunt.

godlings are incredibly rare, and are easily confused with young goblins. they primarily live in swamps near drowners, but aren't afraid of them.

they're quite mischievous but kind hearted, many have happy go lucky personalities and love just having fun. i adore godlings. i've said it once and i'll say it again.

higher vampires

definitely the most important group on this list, higher vampires are incredibly powerful and intelligent. they can shapeshift within certain limits, generally either looking like a human or a large terrifying bat. they also have some telepathic abilities - they can basically make you fall asleep and forget stuff

scary wooo

higher vampires do not need to drink blood to survive. some don't drink blood at all. when they do, it's like a human drinking alcohol. on full moons, groups of higher vampires go out partying and get white girl wasted

although all higher vampires have the same basic abilities, each individual has one skill they are exceptional in.

most find humans harmless but annoying, like mosquitos. they don't really like interacting with humans, which works out pretty well as higher vampires can blend in very well, even a witcher's medallion can't detect one

higher vampires also have three distinct cultures, the tdet in the far east, the ammurun across the great sea, and the gharasham in the northern realms

they are really really hard (or impossible, depending on canon) to kill. based on the books, you basically need to disintegrate them. based on the games, only higher vampires can kill other higher vampires, but humans can get close

we only meet one in the books, emiel regis rohellec terzieff-godefroy. he goes by regis for short. regis was an "alcoholic" in his youth, and has since abstained from blood or any other substance. he's incredibly old, by the end of twn season 1 he'd be 425 years old. as for regis' "special ability", he's just kind. he's an incredibly gentle and loving person. that's it. i love him.

merpeople

probably one you're already familiar with! merpeople are intelligent humanoids that inhabit the great sea. mermaids are notably gorgeous, having green hair and tails, and their scales are prized alchemy ingredients

sapkowski's mermaids can breathe above water, but the sun burns their skin so they don't stay at the surface for very long.

merpeople are incredibly powerful, they can summon krakens and the sea-dragon like race of vodyanoy respect their authority

they use their own language that's quite similar to hen llinge, but more lyrical sounding.

nymphs

nymphs are a humanoid race primarily based around nature. they have 5 subspecies, dryads (including hamadryads), leimoniad, naiad, nereid, and oread.

dryads, called eerie wives by humans and aen woedbeanna by elves, are the most prevalent, primarily living in the brokilon forest. some have human skin with olive undertones, but others are green. they usually have dark brown or green hair which is usually worn in dreadlocks (breaking my promise of not being overtly and annoyingly political in this series yet again - the dryads, especially in the netflix adaptation, are classic magical n*gress stereotypes. but more on that later.)

this is a lore-accurate one that i LOVE

dryads have incredibly strong connections with nature and magic, although it is really rare for a dryad to be a source. dryads are able to draw energy from trees, but rarely do because they don't want to hurt the trees. support dryads and take the bus.

all dryads are women. all of them. they make babies by basically luring men into the forest and doing the adult hokey pokey. also why dryads aren't really a fan of witchers, who don't make the baby butter (i am so sorry)

however, dryads can also turn a girl of another race into one of their own through the use of magic. the water of brokilon has some mutating quality that makes young girls forget their human past and physically turn into dryads, although it is less effective as the girls are older. the dryads tried to do this to ciri, but given that she's a source, nothing happened. generally, this process is done to girls who wander into brokilon, but some dryads will abduct peasants from outside the forest if they need more dryads.

here's twn dryads... yikes

this is where i think the whole racism thing becomes a bit too obvious. "uncivilized" women who live in the forest and have dreadlocks and abduct young girls from "civilized" areas?? in twn they leaned even further into this, having one of the two black women they cast be a dryad and replacing the usual bows and arrows with spears, a less sophisticated weapon. again, this series is about the lore, not the political implications of it, but it is important to keep in mind

dryads are excellent at archery, shooting anyone who comes within 80 metres of the forest. through their connection with nature, they have highly advanced medicine and use glowing fungi as a source of light.

hamadryads are a specific type of dryad that is incredibly connected with her tree. because of this connection they have exceptionally strong magical and healing capabilities, but will also go insane and die if their tree dies.

like merpeople, dryads use a more melodic dialect of hen llinge

leimoniads are a type of nymph that lived exclusively in meadows, but are practically extinct due to wars with humans

naiads, also called rusalki, are nymphs that live in lakes and rivers, although a few live with the dryads in brokilon. naiads are very similar to dryads, although they tend to have very light skin with very dark hair, webbed hands, and can dry out on land

naiads rarely speak common, live in small groups, and have highly developed telepathic abilities

nereids are nymphs that inhabit the great sea, often living closely with merpeople. they usually have blueish skin with either blue or white hair and have some telepathic abilities, though not to the extent of naiads.

oreads are nymphs of the mountains, which, like leimoniads, are nearly extinct due to human conquests.

succubi/incubi

succubi (female) and incubi (male) are creatures which look like incredibly attractive humans but with horns and goat legs. they seduce humans, first in dreams and then physically, using their prey's energy to sustain themselves, often to the point of the human's exhaustion or death

our man eskel has a soft spot for them...

sylvans

sylvans, another race we already met, are exceptionally rare. like, practically extinct. they live mainly in the woodlands of the northern realms and have goat-like faces with yellow eyes, horns, cloven hooves, and tails

my man torque is quite possibly one of the last sylvans on the continent

they are distantly related to elves, and the two races tend to coexist quite well

generally quite mischievous and merry, highly enjoying pranks and parties. they can use simple spells and are mainly herbivores

sylvans live around 100 years and are highly sought after by dryads for their... ahem... reproductive capabilities

unicorns

yep, we got unicorns! i fucking love unicorns and still kinda think they're real. camels are real and those lumpy fuckers are way weirder than a horse with a spike on its head.

anyways

unicorns are highly advanced beings, they can travel between worlds and use telepathy. they don't really like the "less advanced" races, mostly staying around to observe them. they have distinct societies led by a council of elders and tend to avoid evil

these unicorns are badasses

unicorns strongly despise the use of the force but encourage the power of destiny. in the context of pavetta's betrothal feast, a unicorn would not be happy with pavetta's little source hurricane thing, but would encourage geralt to follow the law of surprise

in of the witcher, unicorns are very important because of their world-hopping capabilities. the aen elle, unfortunately, realized this and began enslaving unicorns to help them plunder other worlds. this turned into a massive conflict between the unicorns and elves.

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ggukkiedae · 3 years

Text

❝𝕀𝕟 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕠𝕡❞

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜:

⇢ Episodes 5-6

𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜:

⇢ conversations written in italics are spoken in english. requests and feedback are highly appreciated!

⇢ script form (name: lines) are the interviews

Episode 5

she was in the back oh hoseok and taehyung’s car with a book open on her lap

“makdung-ah, have a sandwich”

hoseok handed her a sandwich which she blindly reached for and nearly knocked over, making hoseok shout and taehyung shocked

“got it! i got it! sorry, i’m a mess”

she was laughing and settled back in her chair, sandwich in hand and focus on her books

she saw seokjin in his sunglasses and choked a little “hobi oppa, where’s the water?”

they were talking about taehyung’s mixtape at some point

“oppa’s music is really nice, though. the stuff you let me hear is really good, i love listening to them” “thanks, aegi”

“look at you guys and your mixtapes. am i the only one who’s going to promote solo as an idol?”

hoseok and taehyung just laughed at her “we’re your biggest fans”

“we’re heeeeeere! my trampoline!”

hoseok opened her door for her and helped her out. she took her small carriers, still two because one held all her equipment while the other held her clothes and some skincare and makeup

“is it necessary to bring work here?” jungkook asked her

“i mean, you never know when ideas will pop up, right?”

a few minutes later, you can see her running up to the cars again “my guitar’s still in the car!”

miya: honestly, i was just excited to be able to relax again. i don’t think i ever slept that much anywhere else. the oppas say it’s good for me *laughs*

the first thing she did when she got in her room was to pull her blanket from the carrier with her equipment and take her plushies out of her backpack

she put them down inside the mosquito net “alright toph, koda, time for you guys to rest from the long drive”

she ran over to the upper house “yoongi oppa! can i help with the food!” “that would be much appreciated, princess”

she’s chopping up vegetables quickly, drawing hoseok’s attention

“sometimes, i forget you’re a good cook because of how clumsy you are. hyung, you know she nearly dropped her sandwich in the car earlier?” “oppaaaa, don’t tell them thaaaat”

she was grilling some marinated pork chops in the kitchen while the older members were outside. hoseok stopped by, and she cut him a little piece for tasting

“perfect as always, makdungie”

jungkook punching the broth behind her distracted her the slightest bit by making her laugh “oppa, you’re hyperactive today”

she brought the huge dish of marinated pork out to the table and yoongi had her taste the dakgalbi

“ooooh it’s smokey, i love it!”

she made sure to get the bowl with what looked like the least amount of noodles which yoongi noticed and made up for it by giving her a lot meat

meanwhile seokjin looked at her “i still can’t believe you won’t tell us how you make the marinade for your pork” “that’s a secret between me and yoonsungie oppa”

she ran off after eating saying she had to brush her teeth

right after she did, she ended up sitting by the deck with her guitar playing random melodies and writing them down

seokjin surprised her by arriving and going straight into the canoe

“oppa?” “i hit a ball into the lake by accident” “well, looks like a home run”

she laughed when his canoe hit the deck before setting her guitar down and helping him out of it

“oh god, i’m sleepy”

she headed up to the main house with seokjin where jungkook was half asleep

she settled next to him and somehow they made themselves fit into the small bench. they just passed out despite the other members being quite loud

hoseok and seokjin were trying to wake the two maknaes up. seokjin picked her up from jungkook’s grasp and she just ended up wrapping her limbs around him and burying her face in his neck and going back to sleep

“oppa,” she mumbled while seokjin was hitting jungkook with the foam roller, “this game is so violent. and loud. and making you move a lot”

“aigoo, you two won’t be sleeping in the boat house later at this rate”

next you see of her, she’s in the kitchen whisking eggs and talking to herself

“this whole process can’t be aired to protect my fried chicken recipe,” she looked at the nearest camera “please keep it a secret, editor-nims”

while jungkook is filleting the fish, they overlay the sound of her frying the chicken

“simple fried chicken when done well is worth a lot”

seokjin walked in, yoongi close after

“oppas, i’m making chicken! what else are we having for dinner?”

seokjin patted her head “you did well, princess. what about doenjang jjigae?” “oh, sounds good!”

yoongi helped her bring the plates of fried chicken out to the table which she began to set for them

jungkook hopped out to have her taste some of the sushi making her grin

then he threw her over his shoulder

“stop hovering over the chicken and come inside to help taste stuff!” “but the bugs!”

she ended up inside tasting yoongi’s jjigae

she stayed off to the side mixing a bunch of sauces together for the chicken if the others wanted to flavor it

jungkook came and playfully put some of the honey soy sauce on the sushi and tried it

“wah, hold on, that’s actually good” “oppa, save the sauce for the chicken!” “there’s also garlic parmesan and teriyaki!”

miya: it felt nice to have a lot of us in the kitchen. there were so many things going on both creative wise and, well, cooking wise. i usually cook alone at the dorms or with one other person, but being with a lot of people gives it a more chaotic but homey feel. it’s… it’s a very warm feeling”

there were compliments passed around for the chicken, sushi, and soup and she just had the biggest grin on her face while eating

seokjin placed a small plate in front of her “these pieces don’t have wasabi, so you can eat it”

“let’s have yoonmi’s marinated fried chicken tomorrow!” “oh, good. i already marinated them in the fridge for tomorrow, anyway”

yoongi pulled the soju bottle away from her “that means no drinking tonight, princess. we want you awake in time to cook lunch”

she headed for the boat house after dinner

Episode 6

jimin popped into her room while she was settling herself in bed. he crawled into her mosquito net with her and began tucking her in

“i haven’t done this in a while”

miya: jiminnie oppa had a habit of tucking me in before sleeping back when i was younger. we got older, though, and i started staying in the studio later, so he never got to do it much anymore. it was pretty nostalgic, and i felt like i was fourteen or fifteen again

“i though jinnie oppa wanted to play baseball with you” “i told him i’d come back after checking in on you”

he settled her plushies on either side of her head which made her giggle

“you’re growing up way too fast, aegi. i can’t believe you’re an adult now” “i guess so”

he kissed her forehead “you’re still our makdungie, though. sleep well, alright?”

she smiled at him “good night, oppa”

jimin: i think i didn’t enjoy yoonmi’s childhood enough. one minute, she’s a little kid who barely reached my chest. the next, she’s twenty years old, a successful actress and soloist alongside being in bangtan, and she has a boyfriend, too. i know she’s still my baby, but i feel like time flew by way too fast

the next day, she walked into the upper house kitchen to find seokjin and yoongi cooking. she was still rubbing her eyes, and her hair was a mess

“aigoo, our princess is still sleepy”

she walked right into seokjin’s arms and closed her eyes while he slightly rubbed her back

“should i cook the marinated fried chicken?”

yoongi patted her head “we have a lot of dakgalbi, it’s okay”

she settled on the table facing yoongi while he grilled, chin in her hands as she tried to stay awake on the table

yoongi woke her up and placed a fork in her hand knowing she’s too sleepy to properly use chopsticks

she ate in silence, eyes half-closed

jimin chuckled at her “sleep well last night, aegi” “mhmm yes, oppa”

when they finished lunch, she headed straight for the common area in the main house with her book

she sat reading in between jungkook and namjoon while they painted

“oppas, how’s the weather gonna be today?” “really nice, apparently”

she closed her book for a while before getting up. she silently made her way over to the boat house where she started doing her hair and makeup.

“i’ve got to do a self-photoshoot before i let the nice weather go to waste”

a few minutes later, she’s out on the deck with her phone on a tripod on video mode. she sets it up and presses record before posing by the fence

“god, i hope this comes out pretty”

she moves around a little before checking her phone

“ooooh these are kinda good. okay let me put on a dress and take pictures by the flowers”

jungkook glances at the view again a few minutes later and lets out a laugh when he sees yoonmi in a dress all done up and posing in front of her phone

“i didn’t think she’d actually do the self-photoshoot”

nearly twenty minutes later, she’s back in her loungewear in between namjoon and jungkook taking screenshots of herself from her mini self-photoshoot

she looked up and just watched jungkook paint

“it’s amazing how you can just do that” “i’ll teach you if you want to try” “maybe tomorrow”

she headed inside the common room and continued reading in there

when the sun started to set, she headed over to her room to put her book down

she washed off her makeup and headed up to the upper house

#yoonmi.inthesoop #bts 8th member #bts female member #bts female addition #miya #yoonmi #kim yoonmi

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fencesandfrogs · 3 years

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clan culture inspiration fic master post

a collection of fics/series/w/e i've used for inspiration. ordered by how much i used them

Flightless Dove, Poison Ivy acaciapines

read it, it’s good. it's 100% my main fic inspiration, i love it, it's very good.

the light that shines on you solacefruit

huge inspiration for my riverclan. just. massively where i get a lot of ideas. probably a larger source of material than flightless dove, if i'm being honest.

RIVERCLAN leaders have a litany of names. weather caller, storm seer, spirit walker. a new leader being made is a chance to find another for the list. these names are to honor leaders for the role they play in their lives.

(names. leaders. meaning.)

so you can see where i got that from.

Warriors Redux Deconstruction Dullard on ao3 (not linked)

i've split this into two parts, because there's a lot. i'm a fan of this in terms of world building, but i've been select in what i've used from it. deconstruction is linked highly because it had a lot of key details that shaped my opinions on what wouldn't be. a lot of this i would've changed anyway, but i wanted to list WR because it'd be dishonest to act like this wasn't shaping my thoughts.

anyway, a short list of things that were mentioned in WR:D that i'd already decided on or am now using

behaviors. i mean, i've said "flicked her tail" or "flattened his ears" so much it's getting old, but by god if i am not being true to cats movements. i think WR:D is somewhat conservative on use of purring, but i've also been writing about kits, and a lot of purring is involved with kits, so special case, i suppose. but i'm very cautious with my descriptions. i've tried really hard not to use smile, because cats don't smile. that's the one that gets me the most.

water. this is kind of a specific thing. but. in ctd's fading echoes. the lake is a concern not because the cats need water, but because the prey needs water.

queens and toms. now. i have always been irritated by this. and the lack of female leadership. because toms should know they're kept on the graces of the queens. the sisters got it right. but i can't just kick out half the cast, so i'm forced to keep them. i have, however, kept toms out of the nursery. queens are protective around their kits. it's the best i can do to appease my strong desire to literally just kick every male cat out of the clan. in all of my stories, though, i keep track of who's in the nursery with what kits, because those kits are going to bond to every damn mother. it's super annoying that this isn't kept more clear anywhere. i have to do so much math and check so many allegiances every time.

kits. it's basically impossible to convince me to write this the way the hunters do, so even in ctd, we see kits not walking, not opening their eyes, until real kittens would. does this make the early chapters of growing shadows a pain because dovekit does basically nothing but sit and listen? yes. do i care? yes, it is important to me that dovekit does nothing but sit and listen because she's a baby. bb. need protect.

genetics. usually i correct coat colors for POV cats. because it bothers me. see: tortie dovekit/ivykit in CTD, and the fact that i think in jaywing, jayfeather is going to end up amber like brightheart. i need to do some research to double check, but...i think that's what will happen. (please don't ask about hollykit, ivykit, and lionkit. i don't even know who their parents are. how is crowfeather "dark grey, almost black"? what does that mean. how is leafpool even leafpool. i don't understand anything.)

religion. i'm not fundamentally changing how starclan works, because i'm writing the books where magic is confirmed real, but...i've tried to distance the connections with it. and god, so help me, i'm going to make things a proper religion for w&f. there will be religious things like prayer. god.

cultures, folklore, names. this is getting long so i'm lumping this together. basically, i've got some name stuff sorted out. it's not "traditional" naming, because i'm not going WR on this and renaming really important cats (altho the reason WR has my respect for traditional naming is because they're not afraid to rename cats to fit the scheme), but i have some pretty defined rules. and there will be folklore and stories. this is especially important for dovefeather, when she goes to riverclan.

Sharing Tongues Icej

a series. i don't think i've used much of this directly, but it has shaped a lot of my opinions on clans. it's why thunderclan is militaristic and why windclan is so strict.

it's also shaped my thoughts on a lot of parts of clan life. i'm writing this all out of order, so i'll say, a lot of the inspiration that warriors redux had, is shared in this series. i'm not sure if there's overlap in the interst, but it's got simularities.

especially in terms of relationships. i have a bit of a fascination with story telling as a form of culture, if only because in my personal life, story telling, especially verbal story telling, has always been really important. so i think a lot about it.

anyway, these are a good set of fics, and they're ranked so highly because they're kind of a paradigm i've crafted my thoughts around.

Tell me about your Ancestors Drowsy_Salamander

so this was what got me started, even over flightless dove. it got me thinking about the differences clans would have.

i haven't written "funerals. mourning. prayer." yet, although as you might guess from the fact that i have a title, it is on my mind. i think i'll draw heavily on this for that.

one other very specific line in this that i draw on is

When SkyClan was reformed by Firestar at the gorge, it was reformed in ThunderClan’s image.

now i say that specifically because i didn't want that. i wanted leafstar to find her own tradition. a lot of skyclan's destiny deals with her struggling to adapt the warrior code to her clan. so Ancestors continues by talking about tree's influence, and this is what i got from it:

SKYCLAN once held ceremonies at tilt, when the birds were quiet, but now, they hold most ceremonies at low moon, when the spirits are strongest. ...

apprentices are made at low sun, born from a time when they were not always gathered.

(ceremonies)

and i'm happy with that

Warriors Redux: Ammendment Dullard on ao3, not linked

this is ranked significantly lower than deconstruction because (a) i'm borrowing superificial things at best and (b) i had already come to a lot of these conclusions. still, i'm writing a full list because there are little things i don't think to write whole essays about sometimes. that said, whereas in deconstruction, i could basically say "yes, everything that's said here, i agree with, i'm only tweaking things for personal taste or because of differences in perspective" here it's more like "here are the things i'm using" and the other stuff is just there, but not really anything i want to use

time and date. in one of my generic CTD posts i had a few paragraphs about this. basically, i like the system of time. except for half, because that confuses me. so it's dawn, sunrise, low sun, (sun) tilt, sunhigh, dusk, moonrise, low moon, (moon) tilt, moonhigh, repeat. and kits are aged to apprentices at the beginning or rough midpoint of seasons.

numbers. math. drawing things in the dirt with claws. in short, yes, no, what the...no. just no. cats in my stories can basically count, but they don't really, like, count the way we do? they might say five leaf bares ago, because i am not saying, "the leaf bare before the one with X which was before the one with Y" and that's what a cat is thinking and maybe they have words for this, i don't know, i'm not writing that. four and nine are holy numbers, or the closest cats get. (apprentices are apprenticed at nine moons in the holy sense, because a queen pregnent for a three --- two, but who's counting --- and in the nursery for six. this will never come up in a story unless it's a background note, because it's confusing and hard to explain off the cuff.) i don't have to explain my last point.

names. i have my own rules. i don't intend on changing character names with the exception of the symbolism in jaywing and dovefeather, but i may at some point make some comments on what, based on my rules, i would do. i don't want to change names because it confuses me, but i don't want to say for sure that i won't. definitely not based on WR rules, i have my own form of "traditional naming" for the w&f world.

clan specific notes. you can find it in my writing. there's a lot of influence in it. i don't want to list everything.

come back to you one by one solacefruit

i haven't really used this for anything, i just generally like it. it's definitely given me inspiration for how i use stories, but not any particular thing.

it really is beautiful, though.

alright, that's about it.

#warriors au #warriors worldbuilding #worldbuilding #warriors #warrior cats #jaywing #cloudtail's daughter #dovefeather #mine #txt #28th #February #2021 #February 28th 2021 #1st #March #March 1st 2021 #q

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fairytaleslive · 3 years

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I continue my message. I love Swans and fairy tales about swans. So I love tales as Six Swans, Seven Ravens, Wild Swans? do you love them? I know Czech movie Seven Ravens from Raza, it's very good. You know it? I think it's a popular tale so probably there are also others adaptation. Do you know more? I know all days I ask you something and I hope I don't bother you. I really appreciate too much this website and your knowledge about old stories and European cinema and it's good to discuss with u

Oh, anon, I LOVE the Wild Swans/Six Swans/Seven Ravens type of tale! It has a strong, active heroine, positive relationship between siblings and an engaging romantic subplot (when done right)! (btw: if you enjoy reading fairytale retellings, you might want to check out Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier; it's not an easy read /tw: sexual violence/, but overall very emotionally satisfying)

As for the film adaptations!

THE WILD SWANS (H. Ch. Andersen)/THE SIX SWANS (Brothers Grimm)

To start with H. Ch. Andersen's Wild Swans: there is a made-for-TV Czech adaptation of the same name – The Wild Swans ("Divoké labutě", Czechoslovakia, 1988). It's a part of Fairytale Tree ("Strom pohádek") series, so parts of it are retold by a narrator and parts are acted out. You can watch it on YouTube here. But honestly: it's not very good, you can safely skip this adaptation altogether. And it's so low budget that they never even show the princes as swans, LOL.

Not-Czech alternatives: Märchenperlen series has a pretty great adaptation of Brothers Grimm's Six Swans from 2012 that is very much worth watching if you haven’t already! It's available for streaming on ZDF website and you can watch it with ENG subtitles, I described how to do so here. Although, the automatic subtitles might be a little funny sometimes :).

(I also still remember the Russian animated adaptation from the 60's based on Andersen’s version, I've seen it as a kid on TV and it left a deep impression in me, but I guess you know it already :)).

THE SEVEN RAVENS (Božena Němcová)

Note: Brothers Grimm have a fairytale of the same name but it’s very different from the Czech version collected by Němcová.

There are 3 Czech live-action adaptations of The Seven Ravens:

1) The Seven Ravens (”Sedmero krkavců”, 1967)

You can watch it on YouTube here.

Directed by Ludvík Ráža, this is a made-for-TV film from 60′s, when Czech fairytale TV films were just starting and directors were trying out different ways to make the TV fairytales engaging and atmospheric even with a limited budget. This adaptation definitely does not lack dire atmosphere, but it’s also extremely theatrical/over dramatic, it looks more like a filmed stage play than a fairytale for children. It’s interesting for archival reasons and for its stellar cast, but probably not attractive for foreign fans.

2) The Seven Ravens (”Sedmero krkavců”, 1993)

You can watch it on YouTube here. (The YouTube upload is very low quality, if anyone really wants to watch this movie – without subtitles! – I can send you a download link via private message)

Directed again by Ludvík Ráža, who probably wanted to make a larger budget version of his take from 1967, The Seven Ravens from 1993 is legendary for its dramatic script and creepy villains – seriously, the heroine Bohdanka and her Prince play a second fiddle to the villainous duo of the Prince’s evil sister and her henchman called Hound. Btw - the evil sister is played by Ivana Chýlková who later starred as a titular evil character in The Queen of the Lake I talked about in the previous ask. This film version of the Seven Ravens is not my cup of tea, but it definitely scores points for creepiness!

3) The Seven Ravens (”Sedmero krkavců”, 2015)

Available on Magdalena’s google drive with ENG subtitles here. (please support this amazing blogger, she makes many Czech and Slovak films and fairytales available for foreign fans!)

I still remember that when this film was announced and even when the shooting was taking place, the Czech public in general was rather sceptical about it. After all, director Alice Nellis has never made a fairytale film before. Also, the casting was kind of controversial: Martha Issová, who was 33 yrs old at that time, was considered too old and too “plain” to play a fairytale heroine. Lukáš Příkazký as the Prince was also a surprising choice, as he was also deemed too old and not “manly” enough to star in a fairytale. And while the cast consisted of established actors, there were no big names, no huge stars that would draw the crowds into movie theaters. Many people also expressed the sentiment that it’s “unnecessary” to shoot The Seven Ravens again, when the 1993 version aged so well....

I am saying this to give you some idea how the film was initially not in a favorable position to become a hit and then...it was released to generally positive reviews and became one the best rated Czech fairytale films of the past 20 years. (it has 75% on Czech movie database - that’s a big success for a fairytale film)

Personally, I consider it one of the best Czech fairytale movies of all time and very much worth the watch. Also, I am a fan of Martha Issová and I think she did AMAZING in the main role (she expresses herself non-verbally for like 90% of the film and it’s such a joy to watch)

pictured: Martha Issová as Bohdanka in promotional picture for The Seven Ravens (2015)

#the seven ravens #the six swans #the wild swans #asks

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Are You in Love With a Notion? (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

summary: Ellie wakes up in the Lake District with a hangover, an engagement ring, and her best friend in her bed. It’s not quite Vegas, but it’s still a cataclysmic mess.

a/n: this one goes out to the anon that came to my inbox with the concept “diamond chaney but they impulsively get married one night and have to deal with the consequences later”. it was too good to just headcanon for so it’s now a fully-fledged fic. it’s complete and utter silly nonsense and it’s by no means the most groundbreaking writing in the world, but it is FUN! hope u all enjoy and pls enjoy my continued campaign for u all to board the diamond chaney clown bus xo

(do people still use snapchat? fuck knows, but i needed it for plot purposes. if u like u can pretend this is set in 2016.)

***

Ellie wakes up feeling like a bat has shat in her head.

It feels as if her pulse is contained entirely within her cranium given the way it’s throbbing, and every time she blinks it’s as if each of her eyelashes weigh twenty kilogrammes. She momentarily wonders where she is before the heavy cream drapes and the shiny glass-topped bedside table come into focus and she remembers she’s in the hotel room. A’whora had wanted to splash out for her birthday (“you only turn a quarter of a century old once, ladies!”) and no expense was spared since she’d got that promotion a few months back. She’d covered the difference for any of the girls who wouldn’t have been able to afford to go away and Ellie was thankful for her friend’s kindhearted and generous nature. After all, she’s not the kind of girl who would say no to a treat, and she’ll return the favour as soon as her salon takes off.

(And it will take off. She didn’t study business for nothing.)

But the room right now, even with its four-poster bed and the cosy sheets and the four soft pillows, is providing absolutely no respite from the fact that Ellie is hanging out of her arse. Throwing her arm over her eyes as she squeezes them shut, she gives a small, self-indulgent sob of anguish and suffering.

And as she rolls from her side onto her back, she becomes aware of the fact that she’s not alone in the bed.

The dread and fear that grips her heart reminds her of when she went on school camp in Primary 7 and had to jump into one of those freezing cold plunge pools.

She keeps her arm over her eyes for a few more seconds to allow herself to work up the mental stability she needs to face whoever’s at her side. Maybe it’s a dream. Maybe this has all been in her mind and in a moment she’s going to wake up hangover-free with her bed blissfully empty.

Ellie brings her arm down from her eyelids and, without knowing what possesses her (aside from the copious amounts of alcohol that remain in her bloodstream), bites down gently on her arm in lieu of pinching herself.

She can confirm she is still very much awake.

It’s not that a one-night-stand is beyond her; she would even go as far as to say that at one point both she and A’whora were infamous for it back at uni, and she’s admittedly glad that “Dirty Diamond” just isn’t as catchy as “A’whora” and therefore that particular nickname hasn’t stuck with her into adult life like it has for her friend. No, what she’s surprised at herself for is the fact she’s brought someone back at her big age. She hasn’t had a random hookup for a while now, and the fact she can’t remember it is even worse.

She presses the hand that’s under the duvet against her thigh and her heart almost gives out with relief at the fact she can feel clothes. She can’t have gone too far, then. This is okay. This is salvageable. As she runs her fingers over the hem of whatever the fuck she’s wearing, realisation slowly dawns on her that it’s her pink playsuit from the night before.

Ellie genuinely can’t tell if the situation is better because she’s not naked, or worse because she’s still in her clothes from last night.

Her pulse skyrockets again, however, as an arm gently thuds over her waist through the duvet and the person, whoever the hell they even are, snuggles into her side contentedly. Only…it all feels too weirdly familiar for Ellie’s liking. The body beside her, the closeness, even the rise and fall of the breathing is all that of someone she feels like she knows.

Lifting her arm off her eyes and to her forehead, opening them, and finally ripping the plaster off to see who’s by her side, Ellie doesn’t know whether to be relieved or slightly horrified.

A purple velvet jumpsuit with a belt to tie her in at the waist that’s coming undone. Black and purple painted nails. Endless waves of thick lilac hair that are fanned out in tendrils across the white pillowslip. An entire face of perfectly painted makeup that’s still clinging on from the night before.

It’s Lawrence. She’s waking up beside her best friend. This is fine. This is totally normal. They’ve shared a bed countless times before back at uni, and it’s not something Ellie’s ever been adverse to- quite the opposite in fact, she thinks, as her stomach does a flip.

Something still feels off, though.

And then, as Ellie brings her hand down from her forehead and something bumps against it, it hits her- physically and metaphorically- all at once.

The ring Lawrence always wears; her pride and joy, her grandmother’s ring. The one that looks like the heart of the ocean on her finger, a huge blue diamond surrounded by eight small platinum ones. The ring Lawrence guards with her life and would only take off if it was physically tasered off her. The ring that could single-handedly obliterate Lawrence’s entire student debt and probably Ellie’s too if she was feeling generous enough.

The ring- that ring- is currently sitting on the fourth finger of Ellie’s left hand. As if it’s an engagement ring.

“Lawrence,” Ellie says without thinking. Her voice is croaky and too-loud in the silence of the room, but Lawrence still takes a while to stir beside her. She pulls Ellie close with the arm that’s round her, nuzzles her face into her arm. Usually the feeling wouldn’t be an unwelcome one, but just now Ellie’s got bigger problems. She hisses again. “Lawrence, wake up.”

“I’m not shagging you, Ruth Davidson, you wee Tory,” Lawrence’s sleep-coated voice comes from beside her, and Ellie finally draws back, reaches behind her and takes the pillow out from under her head to thump her with.

“For fuck’s sake! Lawrence, wake up! We’re in the shit here!”

As Lawrence finally blinks slowly, Ellie watches her go through the seven stages of grief far more rapidly than she’s just done. She feels like an idiot for the way her heart dips in disappointment when Lawrence shuffles back from her and draws her arm away self-consciously. She mumbles, grumpy and tired. “Ellie, I’m not alive.”

“Yes you are, drama queen.”

“No I’m fucking not. I feel how Prince Philip looks,” she groans in despair, obviously as hungover as Ellie is. She screws her face up and rubs her eyes, in turn smearing her makeup over her cheekbones. “Why am I even here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we shagged,” Ellie says dryly, before holding the back of her hand up to Lawrence’s face. “Main question is, why the hell do I have this?”

Lawrence’s eyes grow wide in recognition before she groans and thumps her head back against the pillow. “How did you even…? Aw, I don’t know, Ellie, I’m too hungover to be mad about it. Just gies it back before you breathe and lose it or some shite.”

“But why is it…you know. Why is it here?” Ellie asks insistently, pressing her hand against her friend’s face in a deliberately annoying way. Lawrence grabs her wrist and forces it away from her face to get a proper look, and Ellie can see the cogs turn in her head before her face blanches at the implication.

Appearing to try and collect herself, Lawrence frowns, batting Ellie’s arm away. “You were probably getting hit on by some reprobate forty year old man in a suit so I’ll have let you pretend to be married to me. You should be honoured, really, it’s the closest you’ll get to perfection.”

“Piss off,” Ellie rolls her eyes as Lawrence gives a sleepy chuckle. She fiddles with the ring on her finger. It’s a little too small, and taking it off is proving difficult. Combined with the underlying stress of something still not being right, though, and it’s not enough to make Ellie’s dread dissipate.

“Can you remember any of last night?” she asks Lawrence, who’s scrabbling around on the bedside table for her phone.

“Nothing. You?”

“Neither,” Ellie rubs her temples with her fingers as if trying to massage the hangover out of her brain. No such luck.

“A’whora will be worse than us, then, won’t she? Because the last thing I remember is her and Tayce necking the prosecco at pres- oh, shit,” Lawrence has successfully retrieved her phone, and as she cuts herself off she’s frowning at it as if it’s committed a crime against her. “She’s calling just now, actually.”

Ellie already knows A’whora will be perfectly fresh and put together even before Lawrence swipes her phone across the screen to accept the facetime call, and so seeing her looking exactly that plus her girlfriend beside her looking the exact same just makes Ellie want to die even more.

A’whora’s smile is smug on her face as she smirks at them through the phone. “How are you two lovebirds doing this morning?”

Her words are like cold water down Ellie’s spine, and from the way Lawrence’s expression has changed too it seems she’s not the only one. She’s wondering what A’whora’s trying to imply with her joke and really, really hoping it’s just an innocent barb with no meaning behind it. Ellie can’t speak, but Lawrence gets there before her anyway. “What?”

“The married couple! The newlyweds! The babas!” Tayce jumps in, way too energetic and excited and making Ellie feel more hungover just looking at her.

Her words, though, aren’t helping her growing need to spew all over the hotel room floor. “What are you talking about?”

A’whora’s jaw drops open, and she barely conceals a laugh. “Oh my God. What do you remember?”

Ellie doesn’t want to give either of them the satisfaction of admitting that the answer’s nothing, but Lawrence is talking before she can get a chance. “Neither of us can remember anything. All I know is that I woke up in bed with this slut and she’s tried to steal my gran’s ring off me to…fuck knows, pretend she’s married to me. She wishes.”

“Lawrence,” Tayce starts, barely audible from giggling. “You two are married. You got married last night.”

What the fuck.

How can they be married? It’s not possible. Ellie tries to think but she can’t conjure up any clear thoughts. She feels the same smack of dread and fear that she felt when she went on that motorcycle rollercoaster at Flamingo Land two summers ago. Lawrence had been by her side then, too, her hand over Ellie’s white-knuckled one and reeling off ridiculous jokes to try and calm her down. She hates rollercoasters, and this one doesn’t seem like it’s going to be over anytime soon.

Lawrence doesn’t seem fazed. “You’re on the wind-up. Els, don’t give them the satisfaction, they’re taking the piss.”

“We’re not!” Tayce gasps, affronted, and A’whora is protesting adamantly too. “There was a wedding party in the bar last night and the pair of you kept moaning about how single you were and how you’d never find love.”

Lawrence narrows her eyes at her through the camera, offended. Ellie is inclined to feel the same.

“And the pair of you eventually decided you were just going to marry each other. Bimini mentioned they’re an ordained minister, so then you both insisted they married the pair of you in the hotel bar.”

“Get so far to fuck,” Lawrence snorts derisively, but it’s still not helping Ellie’s rising, terrified heart rate. “We’re meanty believe this, aye? Why in the fuck would I ever agree to marrying this wee cow, as if I would lower myself!?”

Ouch. Ellie scowls, screws her face up as she tears her eyes away from the screen and looks at Lawrence pointedly. “Thanks babes, love you too.”

“But you know what I mean!” Lawrence sort-of-not-really apologises. “Right, then, I’ll bite. If we got married, how did we get to the registry office? What registry office is open at eleven at night on a Saturday?”

A’whora shrugs all blasé. “There’s one in the hotel, we just went there. Caught it just before it closed, I think.”

Ellie narrows her eyes. She wants to believe it’s a joke, so she attempts to pick a hole in the story. “If we were that drunk, though, they wouldn’t have married us? Surely? I mean it’s not Vegas, A’whora, it’s the fucking Lake District.”

“Oh no, baby, the registrar said they get couples turning up drunk all the time! And obviously myself, A’whora and Bimini were much more sober than you, so we were the responsible adults. Or bridesmaids, I guess. We were that classy level of prosecco tipsy, you pair were on the vodka lemonades by eight last night,” Tayce explains.

As the story unfolds, Ellie feels more and more nauseous. She wants to crawl up into a ball like a dead woodlouse. Surely not. Surely not.

“Wedding dresses,” Lawrence says argumentatively. “We didn’t have wedding dresses. It would’ve been so obvious we were taking the piss.”

“Oh, neither of you would stop going on about how the colour scheme was pink and purple! Matching pink and purple playsuits! Which I see you’re still wearing, you absolute hounds,” Tayce wrinkles her nose in distaste.

Everything seems to be adding up to a ridiculously clear and yet blurry degree, and Ellie can’t in any way cope with the magnitude of the situation. She throws her arms over her face and curls up into the foetal position with a groan of self-pity. Through the duvet, she feels Lawrence whack her.

“Ellie, shut up! It’s so obviously a joke,” she insists, and Ellie can hear the roll of her eyes. A’whora and Tayce are cackling down the phone like two little Wizard of Oz witches and Ellie’s never identified more with Dorothy in her life.

“Well, believe us or don’t believe us, still doesn’t change the fact you got hitched,” A’whora says lightly. “I mean, you’ll have the marriage certificate to prove it. You had it last night, it’ll be in your room somewhere.”

Ellie pops her head out from under the duvet in horror. Her voice comes out as a horrified squeak. “Marriage certificate?”

A’whora shrugs. “Yeah! If you don’t believe us then maybe you’ll believe a piece of paper.”

“The marriage certificate that doesn’t exist. Aye, nae bother,” Lawrence says, still clearly disdainful of the story. “You coming to breakfast or what?”

“Oh, babe! Been there, done that! We got up at seven, showered, dressed, makeup, breakfast, and we’ve been out for a walk. Get on our level,” Tayce flicks her hair. Ellie fleetingly loathes her.

Lawrence rubs her forehead with her free hand, clearly headachey. “Well I’m starving, so I’m not hanging around to be wound up by the fuckin’ lesbian Prank Patrol any longer. Time’s check out?”

“You’ve got til half twelve. I got us a late one, figured we’d all need it.”

As Lawrence promises to see the other two later and hangs up, Ellie can’t speak. She’s still in shock at the potential truth from last night; that they actually got married. To each other. Over the years, Ellie’s invented made-up scenarios in her head that involve various things: telling Lawrence how she feels, kissing Lawrence, Lawrence asking her on a date. None of them have involved marriage. She’s never even thought to think that far ahead, but now it’s a reality it doesn’t seem like the Disney-princess dream she’s always expected it to be.

It actually feels sort of like a nightmare.

A thud from a pillow brings her back to reality. “Ellie!”

Ellie looks at her friend, who’s managed to crawl off the bed and is standing beside it, looking expectantly at her. Ellie blinks in bewilderment, rubs her eyes before she speaks. “What?”

“I’m gonna go shower and get changed and then we can go down to breakfast? I’ll come back and knock in about fifteen minutes?”

Ellie can’t believe she’s so calm. Sitting up in bed and feeling her head sting again, she looks pointedly at Lawrence. “You’re not in any way bothered about the story the girls just told us? The fact we might have got married?”

Lawrence snorts. “Oh, Ellie, please. You’re so gullible I swear to God someone could tell you Davina McCall’s the new Pope and you’d just nod and accept it.”

“But the marriage certificate, though? The ring? Which, by the way, won’t come off,” Ellie tugs on it again, trying not to panic when it doesn’t budge.

“There won’t be a marriage certificate! You said it, it’s the UK, it’s not Vegas. There’s a reason shotgun weddings aren’t a thing here. You honestly think we could just rock up to a registry office and get married?”

Ellie falls silent. She should feel reassured, but she doesn’t.

“I’m away to scrub the first ten layers of alcohol sweat out of my pores, awrite? You better be ready by the time I’m back.”

Lawrence leaves and Ellie is left on her own with her thoughts, which all seem to ricochet off her brain and pummel it to a husk, making her hangover worse. She still searches lazily for the fabled marriage certificate in between showering and getting ready, looking fruitlessly under discarded clothes on the floor and under furniture. Lawrence is right- she knows Lawrence is right- but there’s still a part of Ellie’s mind that’s niggling away with a what if on a loop.

By the time Lawrence knocks on her door again, Ellie is back not knowing what to think. She finds herself frantically babbling to her on the way down to the hotel restaurant in the lift, but her friend won’t entertain it.

“You’re too easy to prank. How can you believe them, it’s obviously a bam up!”

“Well, it could’ve happened! They brought it up before we even said we couldn’t remember anything, right? I mean, why else would you give me your ring? You barely trust me to hold your phone for two seconds to take a picture,” Ellie runs a hand through her hair, which she didn’t wash and is still in its big curls from the night before.

“Aye! Because you dropped it in the road when we went out for Jazz’s birthday!”

“That was two years ago! And I paid for the screen repairs!” Ellie cries in indignation, but the memory still makes her blush. She grows quiet again before her mind takes her back to the apparent events of last night. “The story makes sense.”

“The story does not make sense!” Lawrence sighs, agitated. “What proof do we have? You’re wearing my ring and our pals have told us the plot of a Hangover film? Honestly, hen, if we got married last night I’ll buy you an Uber back to Dundee.”

As they reach the dining room, the pair of them stop dead in the entranceway. Because there in the middle, almost as if it’s framed, is a table for two surrounded by inflatable red heart-shaped balloons, covered in red sparkly confetti, with champagne flutes and roses and polished silverware.

“What time’s my Uber booked for, then?” Ellie deadpans sarcastically. She doesn’t know why she’s making a joke. She isn’t in a joking mood. She’s nothing short of horrified.

“Calm down. That won’t be for us. A’whora said there was a wedding party last night, remember? It’ll be for them,” Lawrence reassures her, but Ellie doesn’t miss the distinct lack of self-assuredness to her voice that had been there before.

A waiter approaches them and asks for their name. Lawrence speaks (because Ellie can’t quite manage), and in return the waiter fixes them with a bright smile.

“Ladies, on behalf of us all at the Old England, we would like to wish you many congratulations and happiness on this most special occasion. Please, follow me,” he reels off before walking in the direction of the over-the-top, Valentine’s Day-style photoshoot set-up that is apparently where they’re having breakfast.

Ellie is going to be sick.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Lawrence whispers all in one breath, before sleepwalking towards their table and sitting down with a tight smile of thanks to the eager waiter. As Ellie sits in the chair opposite, she notices the affectionate smiles from couples at other tables and feels her face flush with hot embarrassment. The waiter disappears with a promise to be back for their order soon, and the pair of them are left sitting in stunned silence.

“Lawrence,” Ellie says first. Her gaze is stuck on the table, shocked and stunned.

“Don’t,” Lawrence replies. When Ellie finally looks at her she’s sitting with her eyes squeezed shut, her face a picture of strained concentration.

“What are you doing? You look constipated.”

“I’m trying to wake up from this abject fucking nightmare,” Lawrence says through gritted teeth.

Even though Lawrence is right- it is a nightmare, it’s a bad, terrible dream- it doesn’t stop the way her words feel ever-so-slightly like a blow to the crush Ellie’s harboured for an embarrassingly long length of time. She can’t think about that, though. There are bigger issues at stake here. Like the fact they’re married.

“Do you believe me now? Why the hell would the hotel do all this if we didn’t get married in their registry office the night before?”

“It’ll be…” Lawrence begins, trying to explain it away then putting her head in her hands when she realises she’s at a loss. “Fuck, I don’t know. We need A’whora or Tayce down here to talk it through with us. Or Bimini. If it’s A’whora and Tayce’s prank then they might not be in on it.”

“They had to go back to London early for a shoot, remember? They’ll have already left,” Ellie reminds Lawrence, and her face falls in dismay.

The waiter returns holding a bottle of champagne and Ellie watches Lawrence turn over her flute with a little aggressive thud and doesn’t say when until the bubbles climb to the very top of the glass. They both order pastries, Ellie’s appetite completely gone and Lawrence’s appearing to be the same.

Ellie narrows her eyes at Lawrence as she watches her glug the bubbles down. “How the hell can you be drinking at a time like this? Are you not hungover?”

“I am hungover, yes. But I need to be drunk to deal with this situation. So I’m hoping this’ll at least take the edge off a bit,” she says dryly. Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Being drunk got us into this situation, it’s not gonna get us out of it,” she sighs helplessly, realising too late that she sounds too much like her Mum. Lawrence responds appropriately; shaking her head at her moodily and staring off into the distance as she keeps sipping from her glass.

Ellie cups her cheeks, thanks the waiter weakly as he puts down a tray of pastries in front of the two of them. She tries to go over the events of last night in her head but draws a blank every time. According to A’whora and Tayce they’ll have been at the bar, decided to get married…Bimini had married them, somehow and somewhere, and they’d gone to the registrar…then they’d presumably got even more drunk and had a dance, and then…

How had Lawrence ended up in her room? Unless they’d…no. They’d both still had their clothes on from the night before.

But that wouldn’t have stopped them making out.

“Oh, God,” Ellie groans, unable to hold in the regret and the constant pain of her headache. Lawrence shoots her a funny look. Ellie’s loath to explain herself. The idea that the first kiss she’s shared with Lawrence has been messy, drunk, and one she can’t even remember is one that makes her feel stupid amounts of disappointed, but she’s not exactly going to share that with her friend.

“Loz, what if we did something last night?”

“What, aside from get married?” Lawrence talks through a mouthful of croissant. Then, as realisation dawns, her chewing stops. “Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence as they both stare at each other.

“Nah,” Lawrence finally shrugs as she resumes eating. “Because we both still had our clothes from last night on when we woke up?”

“Yeah, but we still could’ve kissed,” Ellie pulls a face, the words feeling too awkward and childish as they come out of her mouth. Lawrence seems to hesitate for a second before smirking across the table at her.

“Aye right. As if I’d ever let you near enough to me for that to happen.”

“Rich from the girl who was wrapped around me when I woke up,” Ellie quirks an eyebrow at her, and it’s Lawrence’s turn to fall silent.

Breakfast doesn’t last long. Between their hangovers and the fact that they’re both trying to make sense of the whole crazy situation neither of them can eat much, and they’re dragging themselves back to their rooms before too long. They continue to discuss everything, purely because there’s not much else they can talk about when the prospect of them being married is hanging over their heads like the world’s heaviest cloud. This time, though, it’s Lawrence who’s doing most of the nervous talking.

“I’m sure it’s easily explained away. They probably just got our table confused with the wedding party’s from yesterday. That’ll be what it is. Just some big coincidence. There’s a reasonable explanation to it all. Have you got that fuckin’ ring off your finger yet?!”

“I’m working on it,” Ellie grumbles. The best she’s managed is getting it halfway to her first knuckle before realising it was cutting the blood circulation off even more and she could get it no higher, so she’d immediately pushed it back down again.

She hears herself huff with annoyance. All she wants to do is sleep but they have to somehow deal with this first, and it’s more inconvenient than she’d ever hoped her first marriage (her only marriage) would be. Thinking for a second, she gives a little gasp as she has an idea. “Why don’t we just go down to the registry office and ask?”

Lawrence stops walking, fixes Ellie with a look as if she’s sprouted another head. “Have you lost the bloody place?! You want to go up to the registrar and go, ‘sorry to bother you, but can you please tell us if we’re married or not?’ We’d get sectioned!”

Ellie thinks that, even though it sounds as if it’s the easiest course of action, Lawrence is probably right.

“Besides,” Lawrence continues. “If there’s the possibility that we did rock up three sheets to the wind last night, I don’t particularly wanty show my face there again.”

“Right,” Ellie agrees. She bites her lip as she reaches the door to her room and puts her key card in. Lawrence waits beside her, a mutual understanding that she’s coming in to continue the conversation.

Ellie supposes she’s her wife now, so it makes sense.

“Who could we phone to confirm it, then? The government?”

Lawrence pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Ellie, you did not just ask me if we could phone the gov-”

“Oh my fucking God.”

Ellie cuts Lawrence off without thinking, and upon seeing the inside of the room Lawrence is rendered speechless too. There’s more balloons, ones without weights that cover the ceiling over the bed. The bed itself and the floor surrounding it is covered in rose petals, and on top of the pristinely made duvet there’s a box of chocolates and two bathrobes origami-d into swans.

Lawrence is the first to march into the room. She snatches up a small note that’s sitting on top of the chocolate box, unfolds it and reads aloud. “Congratulations to the happy couple, we wish you both a long and happy marriage. From all the staff at the Old England hotel. Fuck me, this canny be real.”

Ellie lets the door swing shut, walks over to the bed and sits on its edge precariously. An idea occurs to her as she retrieves her phone from her pocket. “Here. Check your phone. Messages, photos. There might be clues.”

She doesn’t look up to see if Lawrence is nodding or not, but she assumes she’s following her suggestion. Ellie is busy with her camera roll (where there’s nothing, and the last photo is a terrible, blurry, unflattering selfie of her and Tayce) when Lawrence gives a hum of recognition.

“I got a snapchat from you at one in the morning.”

Ellie cranes her neck. “What does it say?”

Lawrence, oddly, is keeping the phone out of her view. She’s quiet before she brings the phone back into Ellie’s line of vision, and the picture, whatever it was, is gone. “Just a drunk selfie. Nothing that could give us any clues.”

The pair of them are quiet as Lawrence taps against her phone screen. Ellie reflects. They’ve been in the shit like this together before: when they were eighteen and both their phones died before Lawrence’s Mum could pick them up from T in the Park and they got yelled at the whole way home when she’d eventually found them both, when they’d been stopped by the police because Lawrence had carried a traffic cone through the City Centre and tried to put it on top of the existing one on the Duke of Wellington statue. But this is a whole different level of shit.

Through it all, though, Lawrence has always been there with a joke and a laugh and reassurance for Ellie that things are never as bad as they seem. She always has this panicky way of staying positive, delivering comforting words through a voice that’s shaky with her own anxiety. Ellie always helps her in return when she needs it, has done for years: she’s usually good at staying calm, she’s chatty and can talk Lawrence through anything, and she’ll always reach out to take her hand or be there with a hug and a reminder that as long as Lawrence has got her, she’s never on her own. They’ve always seemed to take turns being each others’ anchors, and their friendship is a weird sort of pendulum of support. Today, however, they’re both blindly stumbling through their own process of coming to terms with this situation, and Ellie supposes neither or them are being much of a help to each other. She wishes she could be more helpful, because she cares about her friend so much.

Too much for it to be explained away as a friendship.

“What are you looking up?” Ellie asks as Lawrence lies back on the bed with a thud, eyes still glued to her phone. Craning her neck, Ellie can see she’s typed how to get divorced into Google.

“Why are there no ordained divorce lawyers?” Lawrence mutters under her breath. “We can get married in a hotel bar but we can’t get divorced in a hotel room? What kind of fucking bullshit is this?”

Ellie lies back too. It’s not lost on her how close together their heads are. “Why are you trying to get us divorced? We might not even be married. I still think we should phone up the government.”

“Nicola Sturgeon’s got bigger fish to fry, babes, there’s an election in May.”

“Not the government, obviously,” Ellie rolls her eyes, scrolls her own phone absent-mindedly. She’d look something up to try and help but she’s at a loss. “Like…the offices! The records of marriage and stuff. They’ll have a department for this sort of thing, won’t they?”

“Will we even be on the system if our marriage is less than twenty-four hours old?” Lawrence wonders out loud. “And if we got married here, would we be registered in England, then? Aw fuck, so many questions and not a single answer.”

Ellie frowns to herself as she thinks. “What if we do have to get divorced? Will we need a lawyer? I don’t have that kind of money, Lawrie, and neither do you.”

Lawrence hums in worried agreement, and Ellie presses her lips together. It’s weird dealing with all of this when there’s a crush at play. In amongst frantically trying to figure everything out and clarify it all, a tiny part of Ellie wonders…would it really be so bad to be married to Lawrence? There’s not really an excuse for them not to date now. It’s really the perfect way of ruining the friendship she’s been so worried about ruining for the past few years; it’s not awkward to say she has feelings for her literal wife, she supposes. But every time those thoughts rest in her brain for a few seconds, Ellie forces herself to chase them away- because really, hen, are you insane? The sheer scale of the situation isn’t lost on her, she knows they have to figure it out somehow and mop this mess up. But pretending would be nice, and safe, and far, far away from this alcohol-soaked bubble of horror she appears to have woken up in.

It’s out before she knows it, though. “What if we just stayed married? If we are. If we just stayed married until we could afford to get divorced?”

“Jesus Christ, Ellie,” Lawrence drops her phone onto the bed, covering her eyes with her hands in resigned exhaustion.

“No, think about it! There must be loads of benefits to getting married,” Ellie explains, feeling as if she has to justify the ridiculous thought now. “You get, um. I think you get extra money from the government?”

“The tories have never given out extra money. To anyone,” Lawrence glares at her.

(Ellie knows it’s not what she should be taking from this, but it occurs to her that the way Lawrence has done her eyeliner today makes her eyes look really pretty.)

“Oh! Here, it says you get tax breaks if you get married. It would be good to not have to pay council tax for a bit,” Ellie says, looking up from her phone where she’s just googled what are the benefits of getting married UK.

Lawrence pauses beside her. When she speaks, she sounds contemplative. “Well, you’d be taking my last name, because am I fuck taking yours.”

Ellie gives a choked noise of indignation. “Fuck off, I’ve got the best last name out of the two of us! Diamond?”

“It’s the last name of a porn star! I’m not living my daily life like that!”

“So you want me to go by Ellie Chaney? A name that rhymes? Like a character from Balamory?”

“You already dress like a fuckin’ character from a kids’ TV show, it wouldn’t be that far-fetched,” Lawrence starts giggling, and Ellie can only fix her with an unimpressed pout. “Nah, this wouldn’t work, Els. We’re already arguing and it’s only been one day. We couldn’t stay married. Besides, I’ve got fucking standards, you know? I could so do better than you.”

It’s silly, Ellie knows, but the last comment from Lawrence stings more than it should. It’s got nothing to do with the concept of the two of them actually being married, but more the fact that Lawrence has basically just rubbished any hopes that Ellie’s ever had of maybe-someday-oneday them breaking out of their little bubble of friendship and trying to be anything more. She’s always done it; that’s Lawrence’s way, to shit on Ellie, to gently bully her, but Ellie has always known there’s no malice behind it. Except today it all hits differently, it hits a sore spot that she’s too tired of trying to keep hidden.

“Sorry that being married to me is such a disgusting prospect,” Ellie snaps without realising, turning over on the bed and standing up so she doesn’t have to see Lawrence’s reaction to the comment she already regrets.

“When did I say that?” Lawrence fires back, and Ellie can tell she’s confused by her reaction.

“We need to find this fucking marriage certificate,” Ellie ignores her, opening the drawers of the bedside table even though she sort of knows it’s a futile endeavour since she’s already searched.

Lawrence pushes, though, never one to back down from a confrontation. “Why are you suddenly raging at me, what am I meant to have done?”

“You don’t have to act like you got landed with the booby prize on a game show, Lawrence, I’m still your friend. There’s worse people to be stuck with,” Ellie continues as she crosses the room to look in the drawers of the dressing table, hating the way she sounds like a petulant child but being unable to help the way her words just seem to be coming out.

There’s a silence that hangs in the air like fog, and then Lawrence’s voice comes again. It’s softer, a comforting note to it that makes Ellie’s heart lift cruelly. “Ellie.”

Ellie opens the wardrobe doors, realising too late what a ridiculous place to look it is but committing to the idea anyway. She’s still way too hungover to cope with any of this, and the prospect of an argument with Lawrence, especially over this, isn’t one she’s able to face. Accepting she’s not going to find the certificate, she sighs and walks back over to the bed. As she sits on its edge and keeps her back to her friend she fiddles with the ring on her finger, and it finally, mercifully, slides off.

Lawrence’s voice is stripped of all its aggression and incredulity from before as she speaks again. This time she’s quiet and sincere. “Ellie. What’s this really about?”

Before Ellie can consider the gravity of the question or indeed contemplate how to word an answer, Lawrence’s phone vibrates against the bedcovers. Neither of them speak as she reaches up to grab it, but when A’whora’s name flashes up on screen again they share a look of weary exhaustion, neither of them wanting to face their friend’s smug expression.

A’whora’s smiling cheekily as Lawrence answers the call. “How’re the young lovers doing after their breakfast, then?”

Lawrence’s nostrils flare. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”

“So all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, then. Just calling to see if you liked the wedding presents.”

Ellie feels like a crumbling sandcastle as she rolls onto her side next to Lawrence and looks at A’whora through the screen. “What?”

“The decorations at breakfast! The ones in your room! Just thought they’d really add to the atmosphere,” she smirks, unable to keep from laughing.

More confused than ever, Ellie frowns in bewilderment. “But that was from…the hotel did that?”

“No, I did that. I just phoned down and got them to set it up. They still had a bunch of wedding shit left over from that pair that got married last night. It wasn’t cheap, but it was worth it to give the pair of you the romantic equivalent of everyone singing happy birthday to you at a restaurant,” A’whora explains, still giggly.

Ellie and Lawrence are silent as they stare at their friend through the phone. A’whora seems perturbed, then narrows her eyes at them before she speaks again.

“You two didn’t actually…believe you got married, did you? I thought you knew it was a bullshit prank.”

Before she can register Lawrence’s reaction, Ellie’s mouth drops open in shock. She grabs the phone from Lawrence’s hands and yells at A’whora as if she’s in front of her and not in her own room down the corridor. “A’whora! I am going to fucking kill you!”

A’whora’s laugh comes through the phone like a crackly screech, and Ellie doesn’t miss the unimpressed look from Lawrence at having been unable to style out the fact they’d both been duped. Ellie can’t even let that bother her, though, because she’s too busy tripping over herself to retell to A’whora their rollercoaster of a thought process from this morning.

Lawrence shakes her head beside her, loath to admit she’d been fooled too. “I didn’t believe it for a second. She’s talking out her arse.”

Ellie cries out, affronted. “You were telling me I had to take your last name not even five minutes ago!”

A’whora has to wipe tears from her eyes by the time the pair of them have told her the whole story. “Oh my God, guys. This has been the best birthday present of the weekend. I actually think I’m gonna wee myself. Fuck!”

“I can’t believe you told us we got married and we just…believed you!”

“Well, no, you did get married,” A’whora says.

With this revelation, it crosses Ellie’s mind to lock herself in the hotel sauna until she’s cooked through. “What in the name of God-”

As she continues to speak though, A’whora clarifies. “Or at least, you said you both wanted to marry each other. That conversation did take place. Bimini started joking they were an ordained minister. They showed you their provisional drivers’ license and told you it was a minister’s license. You were both so drunk you believed it.”

“Christ in a wheelie bin,” Lawrence groans.

“But you’re not actually married married. It was just pretend. And hey! We had fun. You should do it for real some day,” A’whora cackles.

If she was in the room with her, Ellie would slap her.

They finish the call with the promise to be packed and ready to meet to check out at half twelve, and when Lawrence locks her phone the pair of them laugh softly about the idiots they’d both been. Ellie is glad A’whora phoned. The conversation that had been taking place prior had been about to go down a route she hadn’t wanted it to, and she’s glad there’s no reason for it to be brought up again. She can go back to keeping her crush on her friend a secret, never to be unearthed.

“I should probably go and start getting packed, then,” Lawrence says decisively, getting up from the bed and making to leave. Ellie remembers what she put on the bedside table, and reaches out to pick it up as she tells Lawrence to wait.

As Lawrence turns around, Ellie holds out her grandmother��s ring, feeling a little awkward as she does so. “Here. Since we’re not married anymore. It came off in the end.”

Lawrence looks a little sheepish as she accepts it with a soft thanks. She gives it a little smile, then shoots the same one at Ellie. “Thank fuck for that.”

There isn’t any malice to her words. If Ellie was being hopeful she’d maybe even say there was regret.

Lawrence leaves and she can’t shake the little niggling feeling of sadness that embeds itself under a synapse in her brain.

***

The cold air that comes with the beginning of Autumn is welcome to Ellie as she sits and waits on Tayce to bring the car round. She’s not quite fully recovered from her hangover, but packing, checking out and getting a can of Monster from a vending machine in the lobby has done wonders for her mood. There’s also the fact that she doesn’t have a potential marriage to consider, so that’s good. That’s a relief.

A crunch of gravel behind her makes her turn around, and seeing Lawrence wrapped up in her black hoodie makes Ellie feel mixed emotions. She feels silly for getting so caught up in the whole idea of them having been married, the way she’d panicked and immediately thought it was all real, taking A’whora and Tayce’s comments at face value. She’s embarrassed at how she’d taken it all so seriously, and most of all she’s embarrassed that Lawrence was there for every reaction.

“Hey,” she greets her, already feeling a blush grow on her face. “You recovered?”

“Just about, yeah,” Lawrence laughs softly. She gestures to the mango loco that’s in Ellie’s hand. “Can see you’re clearly feeling loads better.”

Ellie matches her laugh, raises the can up in a solo cheers. As she drops her arm again, she sighs a little.

“Listen, Lawrence, sorry about…this morning. Immediately panicking and getting so worked up and intense with it all. I was just hangy and emotional and I had the fear…you know what it’s like.”

“It’s no problem. Don’t worry,” Lawrence brushes her off. Her expression is troubled though, as if there’s something else she wants to say. The unspoken words are loud and stifling, and then Lawrence finally meets her gaze with a nervous one of her own. “Well, marriage didn’t really work for us. But…d’you think drinks would be better?”

Ellie’s heart is going to give out. She can’t cope with the events of the day at all. She can already feel her pulse speeding up with hope so she frowns at Lawrence slightly, clarifying like a child tugging the string of a balloon to bring it back to earth. “Drinks?”

“Yeah, like,” Lawrence shrugs, looks to the ground bashfully. “For a date. If you want.”

All at once it’s as if her blood has just suddenly exploded in her veins. It feels like Ellie is on some sort of other-worldly come-up as she blinks at her friend, her friend she’s had a crush on since fuck-even-knows-when, and is stunned into silence.

“The snapchat you sent me last night,” Lawrence continues, scrolling her phone and holding the screen out for Ellie to see. “I’ve felt like that too for a while now.”

Ellie is cringing as she reads the white text against the black screen- a screenshot of her message sent to Lawrence at one in the morning, which reads “so glad whe’re marrrued for rwal vc ive reallt luked you for ages and i quitr fancg u a lot acfually x"

“How did you even manage to read what that says,” Ellie screws her face up, failing to address the bigger picture.

Lawrence smiles, a little hint of a twinkle to her eyes that makes Ellie’s heart thump. “I knew what you meant.”

There’s a small pause where Ellie blushes and looks to the ground, handing Lawrence her phone back. Lawrence uses the silence to keep talking.

“I know I like to rip the piss sometimes, and I know I can take it too far. But today all of that was about…verbalising everything I thought you were feeling about me. Trying to reassure you that I wasn’t interested in you because I thought that’s what you wanted. Once I started I just…didn’t stop, I guess. Damage control, you know? I’m sorry, Ellie,” she reels off quietly. She’s not hiding behind any jokes and she’s not making fun of Ellie and she’s not making fun of herself. It’s honest and simple and raw and everything Ellie’s wanted.

She scuffs some gravel with her shoe. “You feel the same, then?”

Lawrence presses her lips together. Ellie can tell she’s nervous. “Yeah. I do.”

“I do? Is that some kind of sick joke?!” Ellie laughs, and as Lawrence joins in she suddenly hesitates. “Wait. This isn’t a joke, is it?”

“Well, I’ve had enough fucking pranks for one day and I’m pretty sure you have too.”

The pair of them share a laugh, and as Tayce’s car appears from round at the hotel car park, Ellie fixes Lawrence with a smile.

“Drinks sound good.”

Tayce and A’whora appear from the car and pop the boot open, and Lawrence and Ellie try and fail to bite back the smiles they’re shooting each other as they carry their suitcases over, a mutual agreement that they’ll talk more about their plans when they don’t have their nosy and shit-stirring friend and her equally nosy and shit-stirring girlfriend with them on their way to drop them off at the train station.

It’s not quite a shotgun wedding, and it’s not quite a marriage in Vegas. But a date and a drink with the friend she’s hidden her feelings from for too many years is a good place to start.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ortega #are you in love with a notion #ellie diamond #lawrence chaney #ellie x lawrence #a'whora #tayce #uk2 #lesbian au #marriage #fluff

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