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#ani writes
solarpunkani · 4 months
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The Lost Doll - A Short Story
To say that Arrden was in trouble didn’t even begin to describe his situation right now. He was screwed, utterly screwed, in deep doo doo. Deep.
He’d lost track of his little sister’s favorite doll again, a third strike on his record for being responsible. Not only that, but he’d lost it out in the city--where he and his sister weren’t even supposed to be in the first place! There was no way he would be able to explain himself to Mom and Dad without getting himself in trouble!
So there was only one solution. He’d have to go back out there and hunt it down, before either of them noticed it was gone.
“Arry! I want my dolly back!” his sister whined, but Arrden quietly shushed her.
“If you stay quiet, I’ll go get it and bring you some sweets!” he said.
Daisy hummed, her lip poking out into a powerful pout as she crossed her arms. “...gimme good sweets. From Junebugs!”
“Junebugs?!” what was he supposed to barter to get some of Junebugs’ candied fruit?! He was already pushing it just going out again, let alone bringing something to trade! “I can’t get anything from Junebugs, how about Missy Anne’s?”
Daisy responded by tilting her head back and yelling. “Daddyyy!”
“Okay, okay, okay! I’ll get you something from Junebugs, just don’t tell Dad yet!”
Daisy harrumphed, but nodded. At that same moment, their Dad came rushing up the stairs. “What’s going on up here, is everything alright?”
“I want uppies!!” Daisy beamed, reaching up with her little arms. Their dad laughed and reached down to pick her up, holding her close to his chest with a squeeze that made her giggle. While he was distracted, Arrden hurried downstairs to grab his bag and his skateboard.
“Hey, Arrden! Where’re you going?” his father called out.
Arrden froze in his tracks. Shit. “Uh! I wanted to go hang out at the library, maybe get more books!” That wasn’t entirely a lie--he did have to go to the library to check if they’d left the doll there during their earlier visit. And he did want to check out a book too.
“Alright, but can you get me some eggs from the Ferns on your way back? We’ll need them for breakfast tomorrow, bring her a few cuttings from the garden!”
Score! If he could take a few extra flower cuttings, he might be able to trade something for some Junebugs! “Okay, Dad! I won’t be too long, promise!”
Before his dad could ask any more questions, Arrden slipped out of the front door and hurried into the garden, picking the trimmers and two glass jars from the gardening table to set to work. Calendulas, rudbeckias, zinnias, and a few stems of milkweeds all found their way into the jar, which he placed into his tote as he slung it over his shoulder. He hopped over the fence, onto his skateboard, and was cruising out towards the rest of the town in a matter of moments. 
Gliding through the town on his board, he took a moment to appreciate it all--it was home, so he was used to it, but it really was so pretty. In school they’d been studying how things were just a few decades ago--an era he remembered faintly, but had no real fond memories for. He was younger than Daisy is now when their town started being remade into what it was, solar panels on every rooftop, gardens big and small bursting out of every crevice one could fit dirt into. Stained glass adorned practically every building, murals of suns and moons and plants and animals on any blank wall that wasn’t already overgrown with vining flowers. Maybe it was because he was old enough to ride around on a skateboard by himself, but things felt… smaller, than they did before. On bad days, it could be stifling, but on good days it was cozy. Most days were good days.
It didn’t take too long to get to the market plaza. He didn’t even have to look up to know he’d arrived, the light changing to pinks and oranges and yellows as he passed under the mess of fabric tarps overhanging the entire square. There were quite a few stands out today, some offering little baubles made of recycled plastic, or carved wooden statues of deer and bears and foxes, and the instrument maker was even offering a new guitar or two. Ooh, he’d have to save up for that. If he could prove himself responsible enough to maintain a spinning wheel, his friend Azzy had a few sheep, and they were always willing to give him wool to spin into yarn. Or better--if he could keep bees, to make honey and beeswax, that made for good trades.
Being responsible enough was the one thing he probably wasn’t today, since he’d lost his sister’s doll. 
Technically, Daisy had lost the doll, but it was still Arrden’s fault because he’d taken her out of the house while Dad was away at book club earlier. Oh, they’d explored the town together, gone everywhere Arrden knew she enjoyed, to cheer her up. She’d been stuck inside for days now--battling a nasty ear infection--but now that she was feeling better, she’d been begging to be let outside. Their parents said to wait just a few more days, to make sure she’d truly beaten it. Unfortunately, Arrden was weak to Daisy’s puppy dog eyes, and had whisked her away to explore all their favorite stomping grounds, getting her back home just before their dad got home. And apparently she’d dropped the doll somewhere on their adventures, and now here he was.
He stopped by the seed stand--Daisy always loved looking at the mystifying colors of Mister Peters’ glass gem corn, or reaching into the big bags of beans and letting them run through her little fingers. They’d definitely stopped here today--after all, Mister Peters’ son Kendall was working the stand, and he and Arrden had always been buddies.
“Hey, man!” Kendall beamed, reaching over the desk to tousle Arrden’s afro. Arrden mock-whined and nudged the taller boy off of him, rolling his eyes before sending him a grin. “You back again already? Did your Ma tell you to pick up more flower seeds? We're almost out of Liatris for the season.”
“Nah, it’s Ma’s working season. She doesn’t get back home till just before sunset. Did you see my sister’s doll anywhere around here? She lost it while we were out,” Arrden asked.
Kendall tutted at him, bead-adorned dreads swishing back and forth as he shook his head. “C’mon, man, you’re never gonna get those hives if you keep losing your sister’s stuff.”
“It’s not my fault she keeps dropping it! If she cares about it so much, you’d think she’d keep track of it better!”
“Yeah, and if you cared about getting those hives and that spinning wheel, you wouldn’t keep riskin’ it by taking her out with it.”
“Like she goes anywhere without it!”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” Kendall arched a brow at him. 
Arrden sighed. “I know, I know. But Daisy was so sad! I couldn’t not take her with me!” 
“Well, let’s just hope you get that doll back. Oh! Mrs. Fern wants me and Dad to plant a garden near her chicken coops next week, Dad said I can invite any friends I want. Next Saturday, nine AM, her place?”
“...won’t the chickens just eat all the seeds again, like they did last year?” 
“Oh, of course they’re going to, but Mrs. Fern’s gonna make us a big apple pie for all our hard work, and I know you want in on it.”
“You should’ve lead with the apple pie, man, I’m in! But I’ve gotta get going, text me about it later?”
“You know it! Good luck on finding that doll!”
Arrden left him with a final wave, hopping back onto his skateboard and wheeling off further into the market place.
Unfortunately, no other stands had his sister’s lost doll. He tried every other one they’d gone to--the bead and jewelry stand, the stand for the Watters’ farm selling baby chicks and a lamb, the one for the new artist that had moved to town a few months back--no such luck. 
The next best bet was the big, round, blue and yellow tent at the end of the marketplace. It was where Luna sang songs to entertain kids while their parents browsed the wares at the market in peace. It was never really Arrden’s thing growing up--he preferred poking his nose into his parents’ business, seeing what they were getting and running around making trouble for himself. But his sister loved the tent and ol’ Luna, and would beg to stop there even when it was just the two of them. So he ducked inside to check the seats.
Fortunately, Luna wasn’t performing right now. Instead, there was a younger girl, just tuning up the guitar in anticipation for the next batch of kids. She looked up with a bright smile as he stepped in. “Hello, there! Anything I can help you with?”
Arrden froze. That was not Old Lady Luna. That was Pretty Girl Sasi, the girl who sat in front of him in class. He definitely didn’t have a crush on her! Absolutely not, no matter how much his friends insisted he turned red as a tomato around her, he did not have a crush on her! She was just. Really pretty! And he didn’t know how to handle that!
“O-Oh, Sasi! I--I wasn’t expecting--I thought--Old Lady Luna--” he stammered, feeling his neck get hot.
“Luna’s my aunt, I’m helping her for the weekend in exchange for more guitar lessons.” Sasi said, standing to her feet and brushing long, silky black hair over her shoulder. “I’m sure she’d love to teach more people, if you wanted to do lessons together sometime?”
Honestly, Arrden had never had much interest in learning guitar, but now he was half-tempted to trade the flowers in his bag for that pretty new guitar at the instrument seller’s stand. “Oh! Uh--I--maybe! I’ll see if I can--ah--” his brain went numb for a second, and Sasi sent him an amused look as he briefly opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Wasn’t he here for something? Right! “Have you seen my sister’s doll? I--my sister was here earlier, and she lost her doll, and I dunno if it might’ve been here or… y’know. Y’know?”
Sasi giggled, making her way over to a basket tucked away to the side. “Well, I dunno what her doll looks like specifically, but my aunt always puts stuff kids leave behind in this basket. Wanna check?”
Arrden nodded and got to his knees, sorting through the basket a moment. There were a handful of dolls there--some little brown bears or orange foxes, others moreso resembling people, but none of them were Daisy’s little flower doll. He had to wonder if there were tons of brothers ripping and running around town trying to find their little siblings’ dolls today, or if these had been left for months and years with no owner. It made him a bit sad, and for a moment he missed his own little childhood doll, even though Black Cat still sat safely on a shelf in his room.
As he stood back up, Sasi frowned. “It’s not there? I hope you find it.”
“I hope so too. I’ve got a few more places to check, though, so fingers crossed!” Arden sighed, adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder. Sasi grinned, bangles clinking as she held up her own hands with their fingers crossed, prompting him to do the same. “Oh! My friend Kendall’s dad is planting flowers at Mrs. Ferns’ chicken coop next Saturday at nine, you’ll probably wanna ask him to be sure, but I think it’d be cool if you came! We’ll get apple pie after, too!”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude…” 
“I don’t think you’d be intruding! I mean--I’ll text Kendall and ask if you can come, but I doubt he’d say no!”
Sasi awkwardly rubbed her arm, her shoe nudging a divot into the soft dirt under them. “I’ve never really gardened before… I don’t think I’ve planted a seed since I was little, none of my family’s ever been good at it…”
“Oh! Between me and Kendall, you’ll be a pro in no time!”
“Then… maybe I’ll try it. Oh, I think my mom wanted to ask your dad to plant some moonflower seedlings by our gazebo… unless you wanted to come and do it sometime? We could trade numbers and figure out a time…”
Butterflies danced in Arrden’s stomach as he whipped his phone out of his pocket. “Y-Yeah, sure, let’s trade numbers--” unfortunately, he whipped it out so fast the phone flew out of his hand and plopped into the dirt by Sasi’s feet. The girl laughed a bit, bending down to get it and offer it back to him, and he smiled sheepishly. “Th-Thanks, Sasi…”
In just a few moments, the two had exchanged numbers and sent the customary ‘hey this is Arrden’ or ‘Hi this is Sasi’ texts, well on their way to expanding their friendship. Sasi even watched him leave from the opening of the tent, waving him goodbye as he skated away.
Arrden found himself humming a love song all the way to the pet store.
Right, he and Daisy had come here for cat food! After all, Arrden’s crime today hadn’t been leaving the house, but leaving the house with Daisy. He’d stopped to grab food and a new toy for their housecat, Shadow. Daisy had wanted to come along to see the adoptable puppies the Lees had raised, all ready to herd sheep on some other farmer’s land. Even though they didn’t have a farm, the puppies were still little fluffy bundles that Daisy just couldn’t resist playing with. However, he did send a few pics to Azzy, and had received some heart eye emojis in response. Who knows? Next time he went to their place, they might have a new bundle of joy bouncing around the fields. 
When he saw the puppies playing tug of war, his heart sank, but he instantly relaxed when he realized they were playing with a bundle of rope and not a little doll. Arrden doublechecked the rest of their outdoor pen, and even tried to peek into their dog house, before he decided ‘no way it's in there’ and instead made his way inside.
The shelves were well stocked with a variety of foods for a variety of animals, and all kinds of toys. There were even a few birds on display inside--he paused a moment to look at the fluffy-looking pigeons, and gently pat a couple of peachicks through the gaps in their cage. Tanks, leashes, training manuals, and treats were also available--a vast array of homemade cookies and biscuits with all kinds of berries and faux icing. ‘Human made, dog approved,’ the sign above them said. He’d been dared to eat one, a few years back, and truth be told he understood why the dogs liked them. Personally? Arrden wasn’t a fan.
He perused the entire store in search of his sister’s doll, double and triple checking the toy shelves to make sure he hadn’t missed it. God forbid, someone had traded for it thinking it was one of Mx. Miller’s handmade toys and already tossed it to the hounds. He tried to put that thought out of his mind.
After making one final loop around the store, Arrden approached the desk, where Mx. Miller was working on sewing up another pet toy out of scraps of old clothes and hand spun fabric. Right, a lot of people would donate their old and worn clothes to the shop so they could find new life as a beloved toy. At least, when they didn’t donate them to a teen hoping to learn embroidery or make new patches for their jacket. In that sense, Arrden and Mx. Miller were staunch competitors in the last life of beloved fabric market, if his patch-adorned vest had anything to say. 
“Hey, there! Can I help you with anything?” Mx. Miller asked as they looked up from their work. 
“Hi, uhm… my sister lost her doll earlier today, and I was wondering if you saw it by any chance? It’s about this big--” Arrden cupped his hand a little over a foot above the top of the counter. “--and looks like a white and yellow daisy, with green arms and legs.” 
Mx. Miller scrunched their nose--they must’ve seen all kinds of toys over the course of the day--and eventually shook their head. “I don’t remember seeing a doll like that. But if anyone brings one like that in, I’ll keep it in lost and found, alright?”
Arrden nodded quietly. “Okay! Thank you, Mx. Miller.” Arrden made his way out of the store, pausing a moment to ruffle one of the puppies’ heads a bit as it poked its head over the baby cage before he hopped back onto his skateboard and made his way off. 
No luck at the market, no luck at the music tent, no luck at the pet shop… his last hopes were the library, Mrs. Kitterling’s jewelry shop, or just… out in the street somewhere, stepped upon and dirty. Or worse. Someone had seen it and taken it, and Arrden was thoroughly screwed. 
He couldn’t lose hope. He’d stop by the library, cross his fingers, hope to any power there was that he found it alright. 
He felt the path change under the wheels of his board as he turned onto the Aster Town Library’s walkway. It was still old cobblestone, with a few cushiony low-growing groundcovers poking between the tracks. Comfy for shoes--or those who preferred to walk barefoot, like Sasi’s family--but not so great for itty bitty skateboard wheels, so he hopped off the board and tucked it under his arm and walked the rest of the way. To either side of the cobblestone path, there were gardens--to his left, an expansive meadow of wildflowers, almost like the garden at home, and to his right was a small pond with an array of koi and all kinds of other fish, their scales glittering like tiny drops of sunlight under the water’s surface. Dotted across both landscapes were benches, for people to enjoy a drink and a book while taking in the perfumed scent of flowers, or listening to the gentle trickle of the pond’s small waterfall. He checked all the outside benches, but deep down he knew Daisy’s doll wouldn’t be out here. These sitting spots were great and all, but Daisy spent most of her time in other spaces. 
Arden entered the library and placed his skateboard on the designated skateboard shelf by the door, which already had a couple of other tenants taking up slots. They were all a similar color to his, but he knew he’d be able to grab the right one--his was custom painted with a big yellow sunflower, spinning wheels and bees along the edges, and a couple of stickers in the blank spaces. He’d done everything but paint his name on the bottom of the board to mark it as his. Plus, everyone else had their boards painted--one had a bright big zinnia flower, with suns and moons both on the horizon, while another had a ferocious looking bear painted on with a wolf howling at the moon.
“Back again already?” Arrden turned to see one of the librarians, Mx. Kingsley, waving at him from the front desk. “You already returned your books, if that’s what you’re here for.”
“It’s not! Well, I do want more books, but--my sister lost her crochet doll, and I’m retracing my steps to try and find it. Did anyone turn it in?”
Mx. Kingsley shook their head, frowning a bit. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t remember any dolls being turned in today. I’ll go check the Lost and Found, why don’t you go ahead and look around while you get your books?” 
“Sounds like a plan. Thank you, Mx. Kingsley!” Arrden beamed, before heading off deeper into the library.
The library had always been one of his favorite places. When he wasn’t helping his parents with the garden, or hanging out with his friends after school, you could probably find Arrden tucked away somewhere on library grounds. He knew this place like the back of his hand--if he ever applied to volunteer here, no doubt he’d be let in, but he wanted to have a little bit more freedom before leashing himself to a formal volunteer position. Nevertheless, he was here all the time, and his sister Daisy was also becoming fond of the place. As Arrden perused the shelves, selecting a few books on beekeeping and wool spinning as well as a few novels, he took a moment to enjoy the pure library vibes. Small potted herbs grew on the shelves, bundles of mint to be snacked on, while posters for new books and fliers for town events adorned walls and bulletin boards all across the space. Every book in here was well-loved, the smell of old books mingling with the herbs and making everything just… heavenly. There were plenty of bright, sunny windows--some clear, most brightly colored stained glass works of trees and flowers sprouting out of open books--all with plenty of cushioned benches and rocking chairs and bean bags sprawled out underneath them. A few of the study rooms had been borrowed, a couple of kids studying in one, while the other had a handful of adults using the chalkboard to talk about something-or-another. Even still, Arrden knew his sister’s doll wouldn’t be in any of these places.
Instead, he stepped out the side door, and directly into the warm and cozy greenhouse area. A mix of colorful panels greeted him with spots of light on the ground, casting everything into an almost magical light. There were two large tables that were perfect for studying and craft sessions, potted herbs and even a few fruit trees along the sides of the walls, but best of all--a big, comfy chair, tucked into a corner with its own shelf of books nearby. This was his favorite spot in the library--and his sister’s too. Arrden was half-tempted to just sink into the big chair, curl up with one of his books, and let the hours pass as he lost himself among the pages of a story. The library was open through the night, but he’d never been allowed to stay past eight, because apparently fourteen was still too young to be out on his own late at night.
But no, he was here for a reason. So instead of settling into the chair, he checked the cushions to make sure the doll hadn’t been lost in the depth of it, but came up with nothing but a healthy dose of lint-fingers. Daisy’s doll wasn’t sitting on any of the tables or shelves either, nor was it on the floor. This was the only room Daisy ever liked to hang out in, so the odds of it being anywhere else were… slim.
As he made his way back to the front desk, he passed a shelf of books and a title stuck out to him--something about playing guitar for beginners. Well… it wouldn’t be so bad to do a bit of reading, would it? He took the book and tucked it under his arm with the others. 
“Find the books you’re looking for?” Mx. Miller asked as Arrden arrived to the desk.
“I did! Did you find my sister’s doll?”
The look on Mx. Miller’s face told him everything he needed to know, but even still they shook their head with a soft sigh. “There aren’t any dolls in the lost and found, kiddo. I hope you find it!”
Arrden sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I hope so too.” He placed his books on the counter, and Mx. Miller began scanning them out of the system. 
“More books on beekeeping and spinning? I’d think you’d be one of the resident experts by now!” they said with a soft laugh.
“I just wanna make sure I know all I can! I still gotta get my parents to let me have the gear and all.”
“Oh, I remember when I was trying to start with my crafts. It took ages to convince my parents I could run a spinning wheel without hurting myself, but one day one of my friends let me try spinning with the wheel she had at her place. When I came back with a nice bundle of finished yarn I’d spun myself, and less bandages than they expected, my parents let me go get my own wheel the next day.”
Arrden hummed. “Maybe… but I dunno anyone with a wheel who’d let me borrow it.”
Mx. Miller arched an eyebrow, gesturing with their eyes towards the craft room in the back. “You know, I just dropped one of my older wheels into the tool space for borrow. How about the next time you come around, you put your skills to the test? I’ve got some hemp I’ve already combed out but I never ended up doing anything with it, I’m more than happy to let you learn spinning with it!”
“You’re for real?” Arrden beamed. “I’d love to! Oh, maybe I can come right after school Tuesday?”
“I’ll be sure to bring it in, then!” Mx. Miller slid the books across the counter back to Arrden. “You keep on reading until then, alright? I can’t help you with the bees, after all.”
“Okay! Oh, did you want anything for--I mean, I can maybe bring you some of my mom’s flowers, or--”
“Oh, no, no! We don’t have to trade for it! I just love helping young learners, you know? Now get going! You’ve still gotta find that doll!”
Arrden gasped and shoved the books into his tote. “Right! Thank you again, Mx. Miller!” at that, he rushed out of the door, grabbing his board and hopping onto it as he made his way down the path. He made his way to the last possible place the doll could be--Mrs. Kitterlings’ place.
On his way there, though, he found himself stopping, hopping off his skateboard a moment to look at a garden. It was a small pollinator garden, the likes of dozens around town--but this one was special to him. Not because of the big beautiful mural of butterflies and bees stopping to drink on a giant Asclepias syriaca on the brick wall overlooking it all--though common milkweed was one of his favorites for growing and trading. But because he remembered, ever so faintly, helping to start this place.
This garden--the East Avenue Pollinator Pod Garden--was one of the first Pollinator Pods to be planted in the town, about eight years ago now. He was a little kid then, and didn’t see the bigger picture--how this pod was the cornerstone that would help transform this town into the community he knew it as today. No, Arrden was just one of dozens of grubby little six year olds who were excited to get to play with dirt without getting into trouble for it that day. The adults had been working on clearing out the empty lot for ages by that point, transforming the place from some old tire-and-junk filled lot into safe, empty ground ready for planting. Not that Arrden was around to appreciate it when that work had started. He remembered following his mom around with a little plastic trowel, carefully digging where she instructed so she could help him gently place tiny little seedlings into the holes he made, or helping to scatter coreopsis, rudbeckia, and liatris seeds around while he played tag with Azzy and Kendall. His dad helped him try and properly pronounce the names, though there was still awhile where Asclepias were ‘Sleepies’ and rudbeckias were ‘Rudy-Becky’s’. And he remembered coming down with his dad every week during his mom’s working season to help water the plants and watch the life slowly fill into a place that had been so empty and barren for so long. He remembered coming to celebrate while his mom’s work group added a paved walkway, and a fountain, and a bench dedicated to a Mrs. Lianne Kitterling--the mayor at the time who had started the initiative to green up their spaces and their lives in the tiny town of Charlesville (a few years later, they’d rename the town Aster, and adopt the sunflower as their symbol). After this garden, so many more changes came--more solar panels and wind turbines floating high above the city, gardens spreading around every corner of the city, initiatives to clean the forest that bordered their town’s northern side and restore the prairie that used to be to its south. New people moved in, entranced by the changes taking place--like Sasi’s family, and his mom’s best friend Miss Dianne--and helping to shape the town into the colorful place it is now. 
It was honestly hard to remember what things were like before, but maybe that was because he was so little when the changes started happening. In second grade, they changed the school year--only four days a week, and about four hours for each day, instead of the five days and six hours that had apparently been standard for decades before. He couldn’t imagine how he’d manage school and his friends and hobbies if he was spending five days in school, let alone six hours each day! His Dad said before he was born, the town switched to seasonal work--everyone could choose to either work from January to June, or July to December, at any job. Before that, everyone worked practically every day of the year, which Arrden could scarcely imagine now. Maybe all the changes hadn’t started with this garden after all, but in Arrden’s mind, watching the garden grow was the first time he realized things were changing and growing--just like the caterpillars who called the garden home. The city was in its cocoon, shifting and changing, and even now his mother said its wings were only just now unfurling. 
“Hey, Arrden!” 
Arrden was snapped out of his thoughts by the familiar voice calling his name, and turned in time to see his friend Azzy--and their friend, Flare--riding up on their own boards. Azzy pulled to a--somewhat clumsy--stop and hopped off their board to come join him. “What’s up? Looking at the old garden?”
“I don’t think it's that old, Az. But, uh, guess I got lost in thought seeing it.”
“I feel you, man.” they took off their helmet, long blonde hair cascading to past their shoulders. “I was just here last week, getting a few volunteer hours in filling the empty gaps with more seedlings. Felt like I got rocketed back to the past for a moment. Crazy how well everything grew in, I coulda sworn we accidentally trampled half those seedlings but now look at it all!”
“You trampled the seedlings. And I wouldn’t be surprised if the adults came in a few days later to replace the ones you stepped on, but who knows.”
“Azzy and I were heading to the skate park,” Flare said, stepping over. “You want in?” 
“Ooh! Yeah, you should totally come hang! There’s even gonna be a band performing later tonight!” Azzy beamed, green eyes alight with excitement.
Arrden sighed. “I wish, but I still have that 8 o'clock curfew. And I lost my sister’s doll. I’ve gotta find it before my parents find out, or else I’m never getting that spinning wheel!”
“You lost Daisy’s daisy?! Aw, you’re in for it, man!”
He groaned. “I know!! If it’s not in Mrs. Kitterling’s place, I’m done for! I dunno where else it could be!”
“Fingers crossed for you, then! Oh, wait, Flare, you wanted to stop in Kitterlings’ too, right?”
Flare nodded. “My mom wants more decorations for her locs, and I might get some for when she twists my hair soon” she groaned. “I’m gonna miss the puffs, but having to wash and dry it all every week is driving me crazy!!”
“Aw, I don’t find it so bad! When it's my hair care day, I just plop on the couch with some snacks and turn on some good movies!”
“I wish it were that simple, my mom expects me to do so much to it! I might end up liking the twists better, who knows until I get them in? I think some bee charms’ll help!”
“Oh, you like bees?”
“Her dad’s the head of the beekeeper’s guild in town! He has, like, twenty hives!” Azzy beamed.
“Yeah, he’s been teaching me how to manage hives since I was ten! I have two hives of my own, too!”
“Ooh! I’ve been wanting to learn beekeeping for the longest while, but I haven’t gotten any hands-on experience yet!” Arrden said “I’ve checked out just about every book on beekeeping the library has, but my parents still don’t think I’m ready for a hive…”
“Why not join the guild, maybe apprentice for one of the beekeepers? I know my dad loves teaching hands-on!”
Arrden blinked dumbly. “I can join the guild if I don’t have any hives yet?”
“Dude! Yeah?! How are you supposed to take care of a real hive if you’ve never been near one before! Look--” Flare dug her phone out of her overall pocket. “We’ve gotta trade numbers, I’ll get you hooked up with Dad and maybe you can come over when he’s teaching Sasi Friday after school.”
“Sasi’s learning beekeeping?!”
“Yeah, I dunno, she didn’t catch me as the type but she told me last week that someone sparked her interest in it.”
“Oooh, wonder who that could’ve been?” Azzy laughed, nudging Arrden in the ribs. Arrden briefly remembered his last interaction with Sasi when Azzy was nearby, how they’d nudged him into talking about his interests and he wound up infodumping about bees all lunch period instead of eating. He’d thought he’d totally embarrassed himself! Was she actually interested in it now?
“Uh! Well! L-Let’s trade numbers, then!” Arrden handed Flare his phone, and Flare handed hers to him. They plugged in each others numbers and sent introductory texts and then handed back the phones. “So, you guys are going into Kitterlings?”
“Yeah, c’mon!”
Mrs. Kitterlings’ shop wasn’t very far--in fact, it was just a door away from the wall the pollinator pod was up against. The awning over the door and windows were a bit faded with age, the gold paint spelling out Kitterlings’ Jewelry chipping off the brick surface they were painted onto. Well loved, his mother had always said, the building’s well loved.
Well loved it was, indeed, with a lot of the ladies in town. Mrs. Kitterling was one of the only jewelers in town, but she made lots of items--asides from necklaces and bracelets, she also made earrings, rings, loc decorations, hearing aid jewelry, and more. This was on top of her supposedly growing some of the best roses and daffodils for barter. Or maybe the ladies liked her so much because she used to be the mayor, and had relinquished her position to instead let decisions be made by a panel of citizens a few years back? After she’d retired from politics, she’d opened the shop and almost immediately was the talk of the town all over again. 
Either way, Arrden wasn’t much of a jewelry guy--he found it got in the way most of the time. But he had been here earlier to get a new bracelet for his sister, with a little daisy charm made out of recycled metal. So the odds of him having lost the doll here were fairly high.
Flare almost immediately got distracted by the loc decorations on display, little burlap baggies full of gold and silver ones on the shelf underneath, but Azzy accompanied him to the front desk. Mrs. Kitterling was talking to another woman--Mrs. Deere, one of the kindergarten teachers--about placing an order for a custom pair of earrings. Today, Mrs. Kitterling was wearing hearing aid jewelry that made her ears look like butterfly wings, adorned with a mix of wire and recycled glass gems. 
Once Mrs. Deere had finished placing her order, Mrs. Kitterling turned to the two teens with a smile. “Ah, young Arrden and Azzy! A pleasure seeing you here again, how can I help you?”
“Hi, Mrs. Kitterling. I, uh, lost my sister’s doll, did you see it by any chance?” Arrden asked.
“It’s, uhm, real important!” Azzy added, trying to back him up. Arrden appreciated the effort, Az.
Mrs. Kitterling hummed, adjusting her glasses. “Why, what does the doll look like?”
“It’s got a green body, and a big daisy flower for the head! Right, Arrden?” Azzy turned to Arrden, who nodded quietly.
“About… eight inches big, I think. Something like that.” Azzy procured their sketchbook from their bag, and Arrden nodded again. “About that big!”
“I think I did see a doll like that! I bet it's in the lost and found box, give me just one moment!” Mrs. Kitterling smiled before wheeling herself to the back room.
Arrden beamed, bouncing up and down a bit with Azzy. “She has it, she has it! Maybe I can get that spinning wheel after all!”
“Then we can team up and start making a buncha yarn! And you can learn how to spin hemp and stuff too!” they said.
“Your sister’s gonna be pretty damn happy too, right?” Flare said.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah! That doll’s practically her best friend, she’s gonna be stoked!” Arrden gasped suddenly. “Shit! I still have to stop by the Ferns’ place to get eggs for my dad! And I promised Daisy I’d get her some Junebugs!”
“You’re going to Junebugs?!” Azzy gaped. “Hope you brought something good to trade!”
“...I’ve got some flowers?” Arrden opened his tote a bit to show the collection of cut flowers he’d brought. They were just a smidge wilted from spending the past hour or so traveling around town, but still fine to trade, right?
“That might be enough for some of a batch, but I dunno…” Azzy reached over and pat him on the back. “Fingers crossed for you, man.”
“Oh, god, you don’t think it’ll be enough? I dunno what I’m gonna do…”
Azzy hummed, tapping their chin. “I think they like raising insects. Any of those milkweeds got eggs on em?”
“Probably a couple, the monarchs have been going crazy in the garden lately.” Arden took out the milkweed stems and peered closely at the leaves. “I swear, it’d be harder to keep them away than to attract them… oh! When’d this guy get here?”
“Ooh, yeah, I see a caterpillar too! Right there!” Azzy said, pointing to a completely different leaf from the one Arrden was looking at. They then spotted the rather large caterpillar Arrden was staring at. “Oh! Guess you’ve got two! You might be good, then!”
“Oh, thank god.”
It was about then that Mrs. Kitterling wheeled her way back out to the front desk, smiling brightly as she set a little doll on the counter. “Little Daisy was still wearing a little necklace, too! Did you still want that, little Arrden?”
Arden huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “No thank you, ma’am. Thanks for keeping Little Daisy safe!” It all made sense now--Daisy would always try and let her doll partake in activities, so she was probably taking necklaces off the shelves and putting them on the doll while Arrden handled the trade for the bracelet. Then she’d gotten so excited about putting her new bracelet on, she’d probably left the doll up on the counter. Then they had to hurry home to make it back before Dad finished with book club, and they’d forgotten it entirely… well, at least he had it back now! Just a few more errands, and he could bring it back before Daisy got impatient and told on him.
“Of course, of course! Was there anything else you needed?”
“Uhm,” Flare cut in. “I was actually wanting to trade for these bee decorations, if they’re available?”
“Oh, of course, Flare, dear! What did you have in mind?”
“I’ve gotta run a few more errands, but I’ll see you guys in school?” Arrden said, already backing up towards the door.
“Oh, definitely! See you!” Azzy beamed, waving goodbye as Arrden made his way out.
Truth be told, Arden was a bit fidgety the entire ride to the Ferns’ place. He was so relieved to have found the doll, but so anxious to let it out of his sight again, so he held it tight in his grip most of the way there. At least, until he decided he didn’t want to risk dropping it, so he’d put it in his tote bag to keep it safe. But with all the flowers and jars and books in his bag at this point, the doll kinda half-hung out of it, and so he’d get paranoid that it’d fall out so then he’d clutch it tight in his hand again… what was usually a maybe twenty minute ride from Mrs. Kitterlings to the Ferns’ stretched to about thirty just because of his indecisiveness.
It probably didn’t help that the roads up to the Ferns’ weren’t all too great. They lived out near the fields--not too far from Azzy, actually--but it was a route better suited for bikes and wagons. Dirt roads weren’t too good for skateboards, so Arrden ended up on foot a good chunk of the way. Not that he actually had to travel too too far up the road, as the Ferns kept a farm stand at the end of the long driveway to their house, stocked with cartons of the day’s fresh eggs from their amassment of chickens, quail, and pigeons. Early in the mornings, you could even find a few glass bottles of milk down in the cooler, or a few blocks of cheese and butter, or baskets of whatever fruit was in season up on the table. All you had to do was leave something of worthy trade in the exchange basket, like flower cuttings, or seeds, or handmade jewelry, or… anything, honestly. His dad said the Ferns practically begged people to take their eggs from them in the past, and yet every year they were more than eager to get more chicks to add to their flocks.
Arrden placed a jar of calendulas and rudbeckias on the trade counter, gently placing a carton of chicken eggs and a glass jar from the ‘givebacks’ counter into his bag. At least it gave him a safe place to sit Little Daisy--he imagined the doll felt quite comfortable, sitting nestled in a glass jar all to herself. After making sure everything was safe and secure, he made his way back down the dirt road, hopping onto his skateboard the instant it became a viable option.
The ride to Junebugs took him to basically the opposite side of town from his house back in the suburbs, not that it meant all too much to him. He liked the solitude he got from riding around on his skateboard, humming his favorite songs and feeling the wind in his hair. Still, the street lights might be coming on by the time he actually made it back. He’d worry about that later, for now he had to hurry to Junebugs before they closed shop for the day. Fortunately, he made it just in time--the sign still read ‘Open!’ on their front door. He enjoyed the perfumed scent of the serviceberry and apple flowers as he rode under their reaching branches on the pathway, the colorful pink blooms of native rhododendrons growing in bright surges around their trunks. Junebugs’ front garden was always a wonderful sight to see, though part of it was because being there almost always meant leaving with something sweet.
The front window counter was still open, so Arrden stepped off his board and made his way over to ding the little bell on the counter. “Just one moment!” a voice called out from further inside. Of course, Arrden didn’t mind waiting--waiting just meant getting to enjoy the scent of sugar syrups and honeys and glazes, the colorful sight of candied fruits and flowers alongside baked cookies and other pastries settled on drying racks. He could feel his mouth starting to water at just the thought of taking a bite of some. Unfortunately, he had to save all the candy for his sister, otherwise she’d definitely pitch a fit.
It didn’t take too long at all for Mx. Junebug to return to the counter. Their fingers were still stained with various colors from dealing with so many plants and candies, but they brushed it off on their apron and smiled. “Hey! I like your patches, kid. How can I help you?”
“Oh, uhm, thank you!! Uhm, do you have any candied strawberries? Or violets, maybe?”
Mx. Junebug leaned on the counter. “I have both right now, just finished a batch earlier today. What’re you wanting to trade for ‘em?”
“I! Have! Uhm…” Arrden set his tote bag on the counter and gently reached in to pull out the jar of flowers that remained--a handful of zinnias and milkweed, which fortunately the two caterpillars were still munching away on. “My mom grows lots of flowers! And these ones had some caterpillars on them! I heard you like them?”
Mx. Junebug’s eyes grew wide, and Arrden knew he had a good trade before they even said anything. “I will absolutely take those little buggies off your hand! Give me a moment to get you all set up, alright?” they said, taking the jar in both hands before disappearing further into the house. Arrden leaned against the wall by the counter, lazily watching bees fly around the serviceberry blossoms as he hummed under his breath. Ultimately, it didn’t take all too long for Junebug to come back with a small bioplastic baggie of candied strawberries and violets, tied off with a little bow of teal rope. “Here you go, kid! Hope you enjoy ‘em!”
“Thanks so much, Mx. Junebug!” Arrden grinned, waving before he hopped back onto his skateboard and made his way back onto the main streets.
The ride back home was fairly uneventful. For Arrden, at least. Things in Aster slowed down, sure, but they never came to a full halt. Even now, strings of fairy lights were beginning to turn on amongst the market’s awnings, powered by solar panels that had been collecting energy all afternoon. Though most stalls stayed closed through the night, the street instead became something akin to a giant party hall for those who preferred to be active through the night. Older teens and young adults danced to a collection of music--on one end of the street, there was a punk band performing, while on the other someone had brought a speaker and was playing party tunes from their phone. Arrden was half-tempted to join them--Kendall had been to a few night parties and said they were loads of fun--but if he didn’t get home soon, his parents would be upset. So he had to muster all his self-control to stay on his board and skate past the festivities, skate past the cozy-looking library that was all aglow as late night readers nestled into beanbags and chairs. Once he made it past the nightly temptations, though, it was just softly glowing street lamps until he made it back home.
As he stepped back inside, he was greeted with the sight of his mother resting on the couch with Daisy in her lap, watching TV. His dad was in the kitchen playing rock songs on the radio as he sang and cooked.
“Hey, Ma! Hey, Dad! I’m home!” Arrden beamed.
“Glad you’re home safe! Took you a bit longer than I was expecting, was everything alright?” his dad said, peeking out from the kitchen doorway.
“A bit, but I got sidetracked talking to some friends. Sorry I’m late, though.” he said, making his way into the kitchen to set his bag down before rushing back out to hug his mother. “Hey, Ma! How was work?”
“Oh, it was good! I was just telling Daisy about the new window we’re working on for the community center’s new makerspace! It’s going to be big and round, with a lovely big daisy!”
“Daisy! Like me!” Daisy beamed.
Arrden grinned and ruffled his sister’s hair. “Daisy, like you! I bet it’s gonna look great, Mama, you can build anything!”
His mother leaned over to give him a kiss on the forehead. “You’re a sweetheart, Arrden, you know that? So, what’re you gonna do tonight?”
“Uh, I checked out some books from the library that I wanna read! I left them in the kitchen, actually, let me go get them!” Arrden hopped up from the couch to duck back into the kitchen to scoop up his books--and Daisy’s doll, hopefully before his dad spotted it.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t so lucky--the doll was sitting in the jar, out on the counter beside his stack of books. He froze at the sight of it, and his father turned from the cooking to send him a look. Uh oh.
“Arrden? Let’s step outside a moment.” his father said, sliding a lid onto the simmering pasta sauce. “We need to chat.”
Uh oh.
Arrden nodded wordlessly, following his father out the back door into the backyard. There were a handful of fireflies flitting about as they made their way to the bench swing under the treehouse. His father leaned back in the seat, while Arrden sat hunched into his own shoulders. The silence was agonizing, as they sat out there, Arrden’s poor mind going wild with possibilities. He’d always tried to avoid getting into trouble with his parents, and he had a significant feeling that he was in trouble with his parents right now. Oh, he was never gonna get that spinning wheel at this rate, let alone a beehive!
“You went out to get Little Daisy back, didn’t you?” his father finally said, but he hadn’t looked away from the fireflies yet.
Arrden nodded quietly, then realized where his father’s eyes lay. “I-I did. I… wanted to bring it back before you realized it was gone, because…”
“Because you took Daisy out, even though we’d said she had to stay inside?”
“Y-Yes… I’m sorry, Dad, but she was being so sad, and I just wanted to cheer her up! We were safe the whole time, her ear didn’t even hurt at all, and--but… I shouldn’t have taken her, I’m sorry…”
His dad hummed. “I appreciate you looking out for your little sister, Arrden.” he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Lord knows my older brothers wouldn't've done the same for me at your age. And I understand why you wanted to find the doll before it became a larger issue. I’m not mad at you for trying to find the doll.” Arrden let out a sigh of relief, but paused as his father turned to him and held up a finger. “But. I’m a bit upset that you took Daisy out into the town without permission. What would you have done if she’d gotten hurt, or if her ear infection got worse while you were out?”
“...you’re right, Dad… does this mean I can’t have a spinning wheel…?”
His dad’s eyebrows arched, and his locs shifted as he tilted his head. “...not necessarily. I think you were irresponsible to do what I told you not to, but I can also see you were being responsible by looking for Little Daisy and owning up to your mistake. I do wish you would be more honest with me, though--I would have helped you look if you’d told me. And you wouldn’t’ve had to get bribe candy for your sister, either.”
“Did she tell on me?” Arrden pouted. “She promised not to if I got her candy.”
“I noticed she didn’t have the doll, and she was honest with me when I asked.” another hum from his dad. “...I’ll talk with your mother about letting you have a spinning wheel, but if you break our trust again, we’ll be pushing it back by at least a month. Alright?”
Arrden nodded. “Alright. Thanks, Dad.”
His dad laughed, ruffling his hair a moment as he stood to his feet. “You’re a good kid, Arrden. There’s worse things you could be doing than taking your sister out to play. Now, come on in when you’re ready, alright?”
“Alright, Dad.” at that, his Dad made his way inside, closing the door behind him, leaving Arrden sitting alone on the bench outside. He sighed, looking up at where the stars were beginning to peek their way through the darkening sky. He stayed there awhile, watching the fireflies and moths dance around the meadow, listening to the rustling of the wind in the tree’s branches, the gentle creak as he swung slowly back and forth on the swing.
He was a pretty good kid, huh?
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Special thanks to @1wren and @105ttt for beta-reading this fic for me!
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anistrange · 1 year
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You Know...?
Imagine being a teenager living on an island where a idiot king like Polydectes forcefully tries to marry your mother Danaë and making impossible the live of your adoptive parents unless you accomplish a series of task that involve your death; with a sheer of luck you get rid of Medusa but then you have to rescue a princess whose mother is a pain in the ass from a sea monster, later, fighting the consort of said princess who doesn't give two shits about the well-being of Andromeda, and then rescuing your mother from Polydectes and thanking your adoptive parents with a powerful gesture of giving to them the crown of the island for the Tumblrinas to imagine you as a raging asshole and wanting you dead because D A D D Y Ovid and your pop mythology authors are always right. What a bummer.
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4thwallbreakerdraws · 9 months
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Decided to enter @thenamesmobu Collab hehe
Mah poor narrator Ambrosius didn’t see those happy lights in quite some time.
I even felt motivated to write a little thing for this >:)
It’s been years since Ambrosius had seen the Zending room. In his parable, the path to the magical room had like so many things been completely taken over by Malware. It was only know when he saw the mesmerizing, glowing lights, that he realized how dearly he missed this view.
What he wouldn’t give to see it once again at home…
Carefully, he placed a hand under one of the glowing lights. It was light, lighter than a feather.
“No longer will I isolate myself in my own stubborn shell.”
Ambrosius gave the other smaller narrator next to him a side glance, as he walked next to him to look at the lights as well. A smile was on Devin’s lips, the lights reflecting in his orange glasses. It made the plague doctor happy to see him like this. It was a nice reminder that there wasn’t just destruction and misery out there.
“Just know that you’re always welcome…”
Ambrosius blinked surprised at Devin’s words. It wasn’t like he was the most entertaining company. Quite frankly, he always assumed that he had a rather gloomy impression on people which, to be fair, was kinda the goal of his whole clothing style. So this offer came quite unexpected.
“That’s quite nice of you to offer…”
The eyes behind Ambrosius mask softened. A small, almost unnoticeable smile appeared on his lips.
“I might take you up on that sometime.”
Perhaps he had found a reason to visit the narratorverse more often after all.
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anicyz · 2 years
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Dumb little story bit born from a conversation with a friend. What if Wild was actually affected by his full 117 year age? He’s an old man, and he want’s you off his lawn. (full thing under the cut if you want the silly bits)
Wild was old.
That’s what he said at least.
No one really believed him. After all he looked and for the most part acted like a regular seventeen year old. 
Every now and then though he’d complain of old joints. Everyone had achy joints. It was part of being an adventurer. You could only sustain so much damage before some things just didn’t move like they were supposed to despite any magical healing. 
Legend said so once and Wild just shook his head.
His voice, far off, soft like falling dust, “It’s a different kind of pain.” 
He squinted more at night. Often taking out a flame blade for extra light before the sun had even finished setting. He got turned around easily, more likely to trip or run into something. Sky took to walking close by just in case he took a tumble. 
A few of them had joked about needing glasses but Four had seen Wild make a note in his journal to ask someone named Purah about getting a pair. 
Wild always had another person with him while he cooked to taste what he made. No matter that it was something he’d made a hundred times before he always grabbed the nearest hero to taste test.
Hyrule had seen Wild eat some odd things, and had joined him in eating some odd things. Only once had he seen Wild actually react to the taste of something. That something being goron spice.  Most of the time he spoke of the texture, how soft or chewy it was, whether it was hot or cold. 
Wild said he was old but most of the time they thought he was joking. His most recent actions did not portray someone who was joking.
“Why are they still there?” 
Twilight watched Wild snap the curtains of his front window shut, pace back and forth once or twice, and re-open them to resume glaring at his lawn.
“Who’s there?” Wind asked bravely
“Karson! Also Bolson… Why is Bolson here? Are they friends?” He trailed off into gravelly muttering, eyes almost catlike with how hard he was scrunching his eyebrows, hand fisting in the curtain for support, “Go back across the bridge with your stupid model houses! All those lawns …. you’re here on mine?”
Twilight approached with caution, easing the abused fabric from his friend’s grasp, “Clearly this is a touchy subject,” He glanced out the window himself to see two men, sitting next to Wild’s outdoor cooking pot, “Huh, why are they there?”
The hero in his grasp threw up his free hand, “If only I knew!” He tugged back towards the window but when Twilight refused to budge, faced the other again, “I just want them off my lawn.”
“I mean, they’re just sitting there…” Sky trailed off, leaning back as Wild spun towards him, somehow managing to slip from Twilight’s grasp. 
“That’s the problem! It’s my lawn they’re on!” He marched back to press his forehead against the glass and hiss, “Go away and let me have my home in peace!”
“Come on man, I’m sure they’ll leave eventually.” Twilight tried to placate.
“Yeah, they will. At night. Which means they have somewhere else to be. So why do they stay in front of my house all day?”
“Er… Wild?” 
The man didn’t remove his head from the window, all subtlety lost now, his gaze burning a hole in both men amiably chatting next to the fire.
Alarmed, the heroes turned to their resident broker of information on old people. Time shrugged a shoulder and stared back at them, unconcerned. “He’s got a point. Last time someone did that at the ranch I waited until Malon was gone and played the Song of Storms at them until they left. I know for a fact their shoes were still wet a week later, saw them at the market.”
“You didn’t.” 
Their leader raised an eyebrow at Twilight and took a sip from one of the water cup’s Wild had handed out to everyone before he’d gotten distracted.
“I’m gonna figure out where you go at night, Karson, and I’m going to make sure you stay there.”
“Alright you crotchety old man, how about we calm down a bit!”
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fantasycorrupted · 7 months
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yeah idk what is happening w/ Fíann anymore
guess there is Pining now and I will make it happen bc I think I like it
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butchfalin · 5 months
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the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again
#yeehaw#1k#5k#10k#posts that got cursed. blasted. im making these tag updates after... 19 hours?#also i have been told it should say speech loss bc nonverbal specifically refers to the permanent state. did not know that!#unfortunately i fear it is so far past containment that even if i edited it now it would do very little. but noted for future reference#edit 2: nvm enough ppl have come to rb it from me directly that i changed the wording a bit. hopefully this makes sense#also. in case anyone is curious. though i doubt anyone who is commenting these things will check the original tags#1) my friend did not do this on purpose in any way. it was not intended to distract me or to hit on me. im a lesbian hes a gay man. cmon now#he felt very bad about it afterwards. i thought it was hilarious but it was very embarrassed and apologetic#2) “why didn't he use 🫵🏼?” didn't exist yet. “why didn't he use 🆗?” dunno! we'd been using a lot of hand emojis. 👌🏼 is an ok sign#like it makes sense. it was just a silly mixup. also No i did not invent 👉🏼👌🏼 as a gesture meaning sex. do you live under a rock#3) nonspeaking episodes are a recurring thing in my life and have been since i was born. this is not a quirky one-time thing#it is a pervasive issue that is very frustrating to both myself and the people i am trying to communicate with. in which trying to speak is#extremely distressing and causes very genuine anguish. this post is not me making light of it it's just a funny thing that happened once#it's no different than if i post about a funny thing that happened in conjunction w a physical disability. it's just me talking abt my life#i don't mind character tags tho. those can be entertaining. i don't know what any of you are talking about#Except the ppl who have said this is pego/ryu or wang/xian. those people i understand and respect#if you use it as a writing prompt that's fine but send it to me. i want to see it#aaaand i think that's it. everyday im tempted to turn off rbs on it. it hasn't even been a week
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the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"
just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible
#due to the Great Data Decay academics write viciously argumentative articles on which episodes aired in what order#at conferences professors have known to engage in physically violent altercations whilst debating the air date number of household viewers#90% of the couch gags have been lost and there is a billion dollar trade in counterfeit “lost copies”#serious note: i'll be honest i always assumed it was english imperialism that made shakespeare so inescapable in the 19th/20th cent#like his writing should have become obscure at the same level of his contemporaries#but british imperialists needed an ENGLISH LANGUAGE (and BRITISH) writer to venerate#and shakespeare wrote so many damn things that there was a humongous body of work just sitting there waiting to be culturally exploited...#i know it didn't happen like this but i imagine a English Parliament House Committee Member For The Education Of The Masses or something#cartoonishly stumbling over a dusty cobwebbed crate labelled the Complete Works of Shakespeare#and going 'Eureka! this shall make excellent propoganda for fabricating a national identity in a time of great social unrest.#it will be a cornerstone of our elitist educational institutions for centuries to come! long live our decaying empire!'#'what good fortune that this used to be accessible and entertaining to mainstream illiterate audience members...#..but now we can strip that away and make it a difficult & alienating foundation of a Classical Education! just like the latin language :)'#anyway maybe there's no such thing as the 'greatest writer of x language' in ANY language?#maybe there are just different styles and yes levels of expertise and skill but also a high degree of subjectivity#and variance in the way that we as individuals and members of different cultures/time periods experience any work of media#and that's okay! and should be acknowledged!!! and allow us to give ourselves permission to broaden our horizons#and explore the stories of marginalized/underappreciated creators#instead of worshiping the List of Top 10 Best (aka Most Famous) Whatevers Of All Time/A Certain Time Period#anyways things are famous for a reason and that reason has little to do with innate “value”#and much more to do with how it plays into the interests of powerful institutions motivated to influence our shared cultural narratives#so i'm not saying 'stop teaching shakespeare'. but like...maybe classrooms should stop using it as busy work that (by accident or designs)#happens to alienate a large number of students who could otherwise be engaging critically with works that feel more relevant to their world#(by merit of not being 4 centuries old or lacking necessary historical context or requiring untaught translation skills)#and yeah...MAYBE our educational institutions could spend less time/money on shakespeare critical analysis and more on...#...any of thousands of underfunded areas of literary research i literally (pun!) don't know where to begin#oh and p.s. the modern publishing world is in shambles and it would be neat if schoolwork could include modern works?#beautiful complicated socially relevant works of literature are published every year. it's not just the 'classics' that have value#and actually modern publications are probably an easier way for students to learn the basics. since lesson plans don't have to include the#important historical/cultural context many teens need for 20+ year old media (which is older than their entire lived experience fyi)
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Female characters who are the sole voice of reason <<<<<<< Female characters who think of themselves as the sole voice of reason but who are actually just as insane as those around them
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castielsprostate · 9 months
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having talented friends is so wild!!!!!! like. YOU!!!!!!!!!! YOU made THAT. YOU DID THAT?!?!?!?! YOU created!!!! THAT!!!!!!!!!!! WOAH!!!!!! praise!!!!!!!! praise for one thousand years!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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yeehawpim · 5 months
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lgbtlunaverse · 3 months
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There's a version of the "don't go grocery shopping while hungry" rule specifically for writers where you should never under any circumstances be allowed to touch your draft within 3 hours of reading a really good story. Because sometimes when you read something great your head goes "fuck this is so much better than my stuff I should make that more like THIS instead!" Look at me. That's the devil talking and you should close the document NOW.
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anistrange · 2 years
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People stop making Zeus as the main villain of their adaptations and start to make better nuanced stories Challenge 2022 (Impossible)
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descendant-of-truth · 9 months
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Shipping is fun and all but I swear every single time someone makes a comment, whether as a joke or in a legitimate analysis, about there being "no other explanation" for a pair's interactions, I lose just a bit more of my sanity
Like, no, you guys don't get it. Romance is not about the Amount of devotion, it's about the COLOR. the FLAVOR of it all. a character can be just as devoted to their platonic friend as they are to their romantic partner, and they don't love either of them more, just differently.
But because the majority of people still have it stuck in their minds that romance exists on the highest tier of love, I'm stuck seeing endless takes that boil down to "these two care about each other too much for it to NOT be romantic" as if that's the core determining factor to how literally any of this works
In conclusion: stop telling me that I don't understand the story if I don't interpret the leads as romantic, I am TIRED
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anicyz · 2 years
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Chapter 6 of Speed Run at Yout Own Risk is posted! Drabble below!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/38836362/chapters/105177324 
“... So you are… definitely Hylians. Even if you are dressed a little funny.” 
The guard, a simple farmer really, based on his clothes, leaned both his body and his weapon against the stone work making up the entry gate to the town.
“My name’s Thadd, you all look like good people so you’re free to head in. Sorry for yelling, you can never be too careful.”
Sky spotted Warriors exchanging a look with Twilight that screamed ‘does he even know what the word careful means?’.
“This is Hateno, correct?” Time asked, gesturing to the sign swaying in the wind above their heads.
“Yes sir! Hateno village! Er, town?” Thadd trailed off, putting a hand on his chin, “Can a village be a town?” 
“Um-”
“Anyway! The food’s good! The air’s good!,” He looked over his shoulder at the bustling town, “Ah, there’s a dye shop? And an inn? What else…”
“Thanks but-”
Thadd trampled over Time’s interjection once more, “Oh! A word of advice? Don’t go up to the house on the top of the hill, the old woman there can talk the feathers off a cucco.” 
With that cryptic warning he waved them through and stared out across the landscape, presumably resuming his usual activity when no one was coming through the gate. 
Time led them a good ten feet or so before turning to face the herd. “Ground rules for the town.”
“We didn’t have rules in Kakario?” Wind questioned, not quite pouting but close. 
“We had other things going on, now, ground rules. First off, don’t steal anything.”
“It only happened once.” 
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fantasycorrupted · 8 months
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on the bright side, Fíann’s immortal now on the dark side, Ríane’s dead. so, here.
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inkskinned · 10 months
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME#there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing#and the writing is what i need to be doing#writeblr#this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to#edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol#i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!!#my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means#i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her)#hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong#i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet.#i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse#i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!!#i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO#i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness#and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it#im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us#i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer#and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art.#i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work#even if it means being miserable#but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.
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