#I just try to circumnavigate it

[imthatwannabeauthor]

.

[fabdante]

im sorry this is going to be so incoherent but like

literally no one talks about the guts smellerbee and longshot had enough like

to sit there with their dying best friend. not even just their dying best friend, the guy who is their best friend who found them when they needed it and gave them a life and a purpose, who they followed all the way here, who they believed in and loved and fought alongside and everything. their best friend. this guy who changed their lives. to sit there with him so he's not alone

and to sit there knowing that anyone else can come into that room at any time and they are just a girl with nothing and a boy with a handful of arrows

to sit there and know that but to also know that jet is dying and scared and he's putting on a brave face but he doesn't deserve to die alone in that room

so despite the danger and despite the pain they just stay there with him?

also to the fact the last thing jet does, the last thing we ever see jet do, is try to make katara feel better. he smiles at her. he tells her its ok. he's dying, we all know he's dying, she knows he's dying. but his instinct is to tell her its ok and he's fine and smile at her.

like im just

there's so many layers here like

did jet try to do that with smellerbee and longshot to? did he start to get scared? did he finally let down the façade he's put on for everyone for years because he's had to because he's had to be the leader because he's had to be strong?

did smellerbee and longshot sit there with him crying because its' the end, they know it's the end, they don't know what's going to happen to them and they don't know whats going to happen to jet but they know he's never going to see the end of this war he's been fighting his whole life and they're not going to have whatever future they all fought for together, not with jet in it like??

jet is such a tragic figure and smellerbee and longshot are so brave for staying with him. i get why the gaang left and i feel like it wasn't for us to see, this moment between these three. but like oh my god it's so tragic, it's so sad. i love it a lot.

[randomness-is-my-order]

can we talk about percy’s guilt and self-esteem for a second?? because imo he has an absolutely insane habit of taking the blame for soooo many things and even when he’s the cause of trouble, the lengths he goes to rectify an error are IMMENSE. the most obvious one is him literally accepting a surely fatal prophecy because he feels responsible for bianca’s death (and ofc, he cares about nico but at that time, he also felt like he owed nico) but in the show, they portray this very accurately by having percy readily try and give up his life as a way to circumnavigate athena’s lack of help which he 100% blames himself for and has also verbally acknowledged.

(not that this will hinder him from letting the gods know exactly what he thinks of them but that’s a conversation for another day.)

point is, percy is insanely loyal and he is insanely susceptible to a guilt-ridden conscience. he will hold himself accountable for the smallest of things i am NOT kidding, like he’s the kinda guy to scold himself internally for stepping on someone’s toes by mistake. and this stems from his low self-esteem even though there is loads of nuance here because percy is also very confident when the need arises but in small, more grounded interpersonal relationship moments, his view of himself is so heartbreakingly unfair. he can be admirably surefooted in front of mighty beings like gods but when it comes to his friends and other demigods, he’s constantly second guessing himself and taking blame for the smallest of inconveniences. and i’m just. so. torn up about it. because this taking guilt over unnecessary things continues on into the sequel series too because i so clearly remember him feeling guilty about calypso and i hated it because percy jackson will stand up for everyone and their mothers but he also doesn’t defend himself half as fiercely as he should.

here are some examples from JUST lightning thief about percy and his guilty schtick routine this boy istg he needs to have a higher view of himself goodbye.

[justsescape]

"Where are the pumps, anon?! It's been over five minutes and the milk is going to burst out any second!"

Asuka’s presence in the living room inspired – nay, forced – a bit of creative remodeling. The coffee table, the television, the game consoles, the decorative plants; just about everything was shunted into your bedroom until it resembled a packed storage unit. Ironically, her overdeveloped breasts could fill one up as well. Maybe two.

“Hmph, what a moron… always losing the most important things…”

While your hurried search through various kitchen cabinets continued, Asuka let her arms spread out across the back of the couch like she was lounging in the summer sun. Her boobs, evidently, were just as carefree. To say they resembled beanbag chairs was to describe their texture and heft, but it was to vastly undersell their sheer size. There was a reason you had to move everything out of that room: you could practically hide a car underneath just a single one of her massive, massive tits. In fact, if she were to stand up and lose her footing, she could fall into her own cleavage and get swallowed up entirely like she stumbled into quicksand.

“And don’t complain about not being able to find my nipples again,” Asuka scowled, pointing a finger in your direction. She was only visible from the shoulders up; the rest of her was obscured by her gigantic bust like she was underneath a down comforter. “Just pick up the ends of my chest with a shovel and they’re right there, rubbing up against the damn carpet. Which you should do something about, by the way. It’s so uncomfortable against my skin! Why haven’t you done something about it already?!”

Your eyebrow twitched. Need you remind her of why she was here in the first place? Sightings of her being lifted by crane, or with her garage-wide bust stuck in the sliding double-doors at the local grocery outlet – such incidents racked up bills like you were intending to compete with the national debt. Not to mention the attention it drew. “She’s so big she can’t walk without her wheelbarrows,” one would bystander would say to another. “Do you think she sleeps on them like they’re a mattress?” Any attempt at a public appearance was met with this kind of commentary. And she has had more than enough of the “hyper hourglass” comparisons since she started attending college. It was more like her body was a cyclone: dangerous for most, a force of nature that walloped against buckling support beams and swung like wrecking balls, but always attracting a few foolhardy stormchasers.

Perhaps she’d be nicer if she was reminded of the privilege of being housed in privacy. Finally returning with the pump's accessories, however, did not inspire this sort of kindness.

"It's about damn time," Asuka said, her venomous tongue whipping up often enough to start a cyclone of its own. "Don’t you care about the floor in your own apartment? One day you’re going to be too slow and I’m going to leak all over it!”

Circumnavigating her chest – which required you to slide against the wall like a stealthy video game character – you eventually found yourself at the opposite end of the room. Staring down at Asuka was like being on the opposite end of a long dining table in a fancy castle. Except, instead of such a table, only her quaking boobs spanned the gulf between the two of you.

"St-stop looking at me and get to work, dummkopf!" Asuka crossed her arms over herself as if such a maneuver could still hide her chest. "I can feel it starting down there! Hurry up and find my nipples!"

You dragged towels across the carpet like you were a beaver dragging piles of wood in front of a lake. A shovel wasn't needed; you just handled her breasts by hand, letting her gelatinous flesh bulge and squeeze between your fingers and droop over your forearms. Asuka's skin was peppered with reddened rashes and surfacing veins alike. Occasionally, you would graze against one of the more tender areas and hear her try to mute her own instinctive squeals.

But with how big she had become, the search didn't last long. Nipples had long since won the size competition against manhole covers. Her areolae spread across her pristine skin until they each spanned the width of your outstretched arms. And speaking of stretching, that’s exactly what you had to do to fasten the plastic cups on to her unruly tits. Her breasts didn’t jiggle so much as they rippled like cresting waves.

"Mmmmnnf... nngnnngggh..." Asuka's hands were clamped over her mouth. Eyes shut, shoulders tensed; surely beneath her titanic boobs, her legs were squirming wildly about. When you were burying your arms deep into her underbust in search of her nipples, you could feel how the movement of her legs moved her entire chest around like it was a slinky.

The pump was an electronic device that had forever found its place in the corner beside you. Besides the couch, it was the only furnishing that wasn't allowed to leave this room. The hoses that connected it with the two plastic cups on her boobs were as thick as those that came off the side of a fire engine.

All it took was a flick of a switch.

WHIIIIIIIIRRRRRRR...

The hoses sprang to life in an instant, thickening up as milk flowed through them like they were connected to a fire hydrant. Milk pummeled the insides of the plastic cups like water dousing a windshield in a car wash. The sounds were crushing, deafening – but none of them grabbed your attention quite as much as Asuka's own uncontrollable whimpering.

"Nnnnghh... mmNNNnnfgh... haaah... haaah...~"

To visit a historic landmark; to look up at a rare eclipse; to watch how Asuka's ferocious attitude turned on a dime as the milk started to flow. Her delicate fingers dropped from her mouth and gripped the leather upholstery of your couch like she was bracing for some sort of impact. Sweat dripped from the tips of her eyelashes. Even her legs kicked involuntarily underneath the weight of her boobs like she was being tested for reflexes. There was no question about it. Her boobs ruled her entire body.

"...o-okay... y-you did it... hhNNnnngh... just in time..." She may have been on the other side of the room across a horizon of cleavage, but Asuka's smile was unmistakable. It was so warm that it could bring the sun up during the dead of night. "...I guess as... MMMNF... a reward... y-you can p-put that cowbell collar around my neck..."

[alexanderwales]

Pitchposting: Generation Ship

(Pitchposting is a way of giving away ideas that threaten to grow in my mind until they become draft documents. They are free to a good home, though there's no guarantee that I won't try to write them at some point.)

Alright, hear me out: it's a generation ship, one expected to reach its destination with an entirely new generation of people who never knew the homeland, except instead of being a scifi concept, we're doing it as mundane as possible.

I think this is one of those ideas that only appeals to me because I immediately start thinking about the logistics of it all, and there's something in the mundane, gritty realism that really appeals to me. Mostly I'm worldbuilding and problem solving, trying to get at what it would actually be like for people to have been at sea their entire lives, to have a ship that either needs to endure the waves or be rebuilt as it goes.

I was going to say that this needs to be fantasy, but I guess technically it can be an Alderson Disk or something. An Alderson Disk has a habitable circumference of approximately a billion kilometers, a sailing ship can go maybe eighty miles a day, that's a ballpark of 12.5 million days to circumnavigate the disk, which is 34,000 years. That's a hell of a lot of generations, twice as long as we've had agriculture. (But you could also just have it be a fantasy world that's larger than our own, with a generation ship that was only trying to flee to greener pastures that are a hundred years away.)

The purest version of this story is a world that's just water, to match the void of space. The ship sails, repairs are made from flotsam and jetsam and driftwood from unspecified places, rainwater is caught and put into barrels, pitch is used for patching, fish and kelp are hauled up from the ocean, birds are captured from the sky, and the ship must necessarily endure storms and swells.

I've always felt there was something compelling about constrained living situations, places where everyone knows everyone and you have to make it work because there's absolutely no way out — where you're on a knife's edge because there's only so much preparation you can do. A generation ship needs to think about absolutely all of its needs and how it will deal with the deterioration of all things over time, along with problems that might only crop up once every hundred years, or problems that won't become apparent until long after the ship has left the dock.

Let's say you have a sailing ship the size of one of the largest sailing vessels of the 19th century, a thousand people all told. The families are carefully braided to prevent accidental incest, everyone has their position in life, every master has at least one apprentice but probably more so gout or cancer don't eliminate the last person who knew how to make more pitch.

This is clearly an Idea story, one that starts with a ridiculous premise and then explores it, but one of my favorite things about idea stories is finding the characters and the conflicts within them. For a generation ship, the biggest, most obvious conflict is the conflict between generations: the old people who once knew dry land, the middle generation who will likely die before the destination is reached, and the children who will be the beneficiaries of all this travel.

We have a woman who was born to the sea, who loves the sea, who loves the travel and takes great joy in knowing that she's probably not going to see the end of it until she's ancient. We have the grizzled sailor who's nearly risen to the rank of captain and sees the whole mission as utter foolishness. A boy of thirteen who is obsessed with writing stories about the land they've set off toward and keeps his telescope on the horizon, hoping that the predictions were off, that they're somehow two decades early. A girl of sixteen who doesn't feel suited to the marriage that's planned for her, who is secretly in love with her best friend. A scientist who has been quietly advancing the state of knowledge with every new fish brought up from the deeps.

And then there's the plot, which there are so, so many options for. I would start the novel with simple sailing, a few chapters of the daily routine, the personalities, their petty fights with each other, and the stress of being in the middle of unfathomably deep waters whose depths are only glimpsed when the nets bring up something new. Then ... an island, another ship, sea creatures that have a glimmer of intelligence, a storm that makes the ship limp, spoilage that threatens starvation unless drastic action is taken, a political squabble that might bring all the plans crashing down.

Maybe it's a book about being trapped by the past, or about hanging on by what feels like a delicate thread, or about how systems are fragile and careful thinking and brave leadership are the only things that will get us through.

Mostly I think I want to be a geek about a ship that needs to survive in the ocean for a hundred years, and I do not have the time to write this novel, not when there are so many other novels to write.

[grainjew]

Nikaposting Pt 4: Sun God Tropes

This is the fourth of a series of posts about Nika & associated religious practice in the One Piece world. As I write and post the rest of the series, I’ll add links to this header.

Pt 1: Crypto-Religion | Pt 2: Symbology & Syncretism | Pt 3: Joyboy was Shandian

Enormous credit to @oriigami for being my discussion partner through all of this and having a substantial influence on the final product. Check out our ao3 series Joyful for a narrative rather than analytical take on the Nika tradition, and definitely go read her OP blog @kaizokuou-ni-naru for meta and translation fun facts.

-

#JustLittleSunGodThings

So Luffy’s a sun god, or the embodied power of the wishes for one, or whatever. But does he do mythological solar deity things?

Yes actually.

This post is the fourth and last (as of now) in this series, and it’s entirely for fun. I’ll almost certainly miss things as I go down the list here- if you can think of other solar or dawn deity things he gets up to, please add them in the replies!

With no further ado, here is a list of sun god things Luffy has been known to get up to, & which will no doubt inform the mythology developing around him in the One Piece world. (How many people were deifying this guy even before he awakened his devil fruit? Like it was definitely not zero is all I’m saying.)

Getting eaten by snakes

What started this whole list was me turning to @oriigami in the middle of the night after we’d been rewatching Little Garden and trying to make an accurate count of how many times Luffy’s been swallowed whole and going “you know what’s sun god shit? getting eaten by snakes.”

Sun gods are often doing this. Take Apep in Egyptian myth, who tries to devour the sun god Ra every day. Or Rahu, the Hindu shadow planet and serpent, who swallows the sun to cause solar eclipses.

Luffy is also often doing this. The most notable example is of course the Nola Incident in Skypiea arc, but if we expand the definition of snake to include generally snakeish sort of guys, he also gets briefly ate by Kaidou very shortly after awakening, and just now by Mister Sandworm in ch 1110. (And by Kaidou fish-fish fruit equivalency I’d argue we can also count the Little Garden goldfish and the crocodile that ate him as a kid here but obviously that’s more tenuous and mostly just funny.)

Slightly more tenuously as well, there’s Amaterasu of Shinto lore retreating into her cave (a cave is a kind of snake), as well as the Norse wolf that chases the sun Sköll (occasionally merged with Fenrir), the Javanese god (described as an ogre) Batara Kala who eats the sun and moon to cause eclipses, and the alchemical Green Lion that devours the sun.

Storm and sky gods are also often interacting with, killing, and being eaten by snakes, which is less relevant here except that Nami is storm god coded and she also got ate in the Nola Incident. So that’s fun!

Having a chariot that circumnavigates the world

Many sun gods, especially in the Indo-European sphere of traditions, have some sort of chariot or boat that they ride from east to west each day to carry the sun across the sky. Often they have attendants (sometimes dawn and dusk gods; or sometimes these gods have their own chariots or horses as well) to help them with this.

If you want a list of sun vehicles the wikipedia page for solar deities has a whole bunch of them. Have fun.

I think Thousand Sunny speaks for herself on this front: not only is Sunny a ship designed, destined, and dreamed up to herself circumnavigate the world with Luffy as her captain, but she also has the Sun on the front as her figurehead in a manner that does kinda remind me of some depictions I’ve seen of the sun being carried across the sky in such a chariot. Also, she can fly!

Association with royalty

Kings and emperors love to use sun gods to give divine legitimacy to their rule. This is in no way universal (there’s lots of storm gods out there who also do this, just off the top of my head) but take Amaterasu (Shinto), Inti (Incan), Amun-Ra (also Aten) (Egyptian), Sol Invictus (Roman), etc.

Obviously Luffy is going to be King, and is currently an Emperor. But also, he tends to go around and toppling kings and gods and tyrants and vaguely lending legitimacy to whoever is stepping up to the throne in their place. He’s got the Mandate of Heaven (this is a joke mostly but we HAVE all read Loguetown)! And also distributes it to people he likes. Thanks Luffy.

Solar discs, radiate crowns, and beetles

A solar disc is a flat circle, sometimes with rays, that symbolically represents the sun or the sun personified. If you have read pt 2 of this series, you will recognize the Nika symbol in this description.

In the same vein, when applied to a personified depiction of the sun, the solar disc has the habit of becoming a halo or a radiate crown (such as the one worn by the Statue of Liberty - the radiate crown used to be an emperors and sun gods thing and has since become associated with personifications of liberty. So That’s Fun). Obviously Luffy is not in the habit of having either of these representationally, except of course for. The hat that encircles his head in gold.

The final note on symbology I have here is that the Egyptian god of the morning sun, Khepri, is associated with scarabs/dung beetles. A fact that I think known beetle-lover Luffy would appreciate. Get this guy some scarab symbolism stat. Check these bugs out!!!

Bonus: descending into the underworld and eclipse stories

Katabasis, that is, a descent into the underworld, is in no way a sun god exclusive, although solar myths do often involve the sun god, having traveled across the sky by day, needing to find their way through the ocean, the underworld, or some other sort of nether realm to return, overnight, to their morning home in the east. And it’s very fun to look at in the context of Luffy, eclipse myths, and the Marineford saga.

So obviously the Impel Down arc is is a very literal katabasis. It’s Hell, it’s got all the Dante’s Inferno theming, and, like in so many katabases, Luffy descends to the depths in pursuit of some goal, eventually emerging miraculously alive but unsuccessful (see, for a very quick shortlist of katabases of this type, Orpheus & Eurydice, Inanna, and Izanagi & Izanami).

So that’s delightful. But I think it’s even more fun to think about the Marineford saga in general, eventually culminating in the timeskip, as a prototype for an eclipse story.

Solar eclipses, though predictable, are something like a rarer and more frightening form of night, and so their associated myths have a general tendency to involve a more dramatic and/or violent symbolic death of the sun- see, for example, the various devourers of the sun mentioned in the first bullet point of this post.

So, we have the timeskip. The fire goes out. The sun, having descended into the underworld and pushed himself past his own limits, is defeated, disappearing completely from the world for two years. Until- In a way that was, technically, predictable, if you had the correct sphere of knowledge, he returns, miraculously renewed.

I’d incorporate that into my belief system, is all I’m saying.

-

Thank you all for reading! This is all for the series so far, but not, I hope, forever. Many more thoughts to have and webs to weave!

Have a lovely week!

[airship-full-of-dragons]

Final review

Merrigan: Incredible... Of everything I had imagined on this search, hearing the Tidelord's voice... Such a profound brush with our very origins! The seers were thankfully able to translate the message, but this raises so many new questions... What was part of the Pillar of the World doing down here? What are these cores and why are they so important? Where are they now? Unlikeliest places? Oof, there's much to learn. And we still don't know what happened to the Tidelord... The damage to his message has me worried that something nefarious is at work. Our dives may be done for now, but there is still plenty of mystery left to solve. I've spoken with the rest of my pod, and we've decided to drop anchor here for a while to help. We'll contact other pods, too, to update them and see if they wish to come help. None of us are accustomed to staying in one place for long, so this is going to be... a challenging adjustment. I don't think we've anything to worry about, though. Aguar has already agreed to serve as an ambassador while we get settled in, and I get the impression you'll be right there with us, too... Just as you have been. I can't thank you enough. We've circumnavigated the oceans for so long with nothing remarkable to speak of, I had settled myself in for a life of boring routines. I'd forgotten the importance of a wayfinder's duties—and more, I had lost sight of the sheer breadth of novelty the oceans contain. Even the eldest of us could never behold the beauty of every reef, every ridge and trench, but there is no greater thrill in life than to try anyway. Whatever comes of the Tidelord's disappearance in the end, I will be heartened to face it beside all of you.

(as during the first effort, I will not be copy-pasting the full recap text, it's up on the page and screencapped here, though. But so this post isn't a mile long, i'm skipping on it)

New images:

[prince-liest]

Hiya, Mr Prince, here's another random question:

In the 666verse, which character would have the strongest/funniest reaction upon learning what Alastor has been up to with Vox in your opinion?

Because personally I've been making myself laugh imagining Lucifer feeling Alastor "sneak out" of the hotel repeatedly (thanks to whatever powers he has as the Devil) and since he's already very suspicious of him he assumes he's up to no good... He spends weeks with these thoughts at the back of his mind and then maybe he confronts Alastor about it (moment of huge internal panic for Al who thinks it's about his deal, deep relief when he finds out it's not) and Alastor just. decides to tell him Exactly what he's been up to (maybe not the details but like "why I've been indulging in the most depraved sexual activities you could imagine :)") . Because he knows Lucifer knows will think he's lying 😆

Honestly I think you're on point with that one, hahaha. The only other contendor for funniest reaction would be Charlie, I think, because the Morningstars are just Like That.

I don't think Alastor would be outright sneaking out (or, if he were being surreptitious, he would frame it to himself as engaging in basic polite discretion, not sneaking), but that honestly would just make it even funnier if Lucifer "catches" him doing something he wasn't outright trying to hide. Like, sorry, IS it your business, your majesty? Would you like detailed reports as to all of Alastor's activities? Are you interested in managing his bathroom breaks, too? Are you this interested in the activities of the rest of the emplyees? Are you interested in managing the other employees, or is your assistance to the hotel limited to snapping your fingers and blowing out of your daughter's life -

Yeah, Lucifer's not escaping that one unscathed, and that's before Alastor decides to be a "you'll never believe me" flavor of truthful, hahaha. I've been wondering at the best way to start the next chapter I'm writing and this may in fact be the inspiration for it.

Charlie, on the other hand, would be, just. So awkwardly, enthusiastically supportive, but also immediately have a whole little stress breakdown behind his back, which would be twofold disastrous because 1) Alastor in no way wants to be congratulated or have a light shined on this in the first place and 2) the things Charlie is stressing about (Vox! The Vees! Valentino! Angel Dust!) have largely been circumnavigated up until this point and if she brings them up then she's gonna be the one blowing it all up.

Also if you thought Angel Dust's well-intentioned just-making-sure check-in when he learned about Alastor and Vox was awkward, you have not seen what Charlie can cook up yet.

[verybadatwriting]

The Cyborg's Apprentice Part 2

Summary: Reader finds a way out of serving the Sith. Or so they think.

Warnings: Reader goes on a mental health/self discovery journey, neck wounds, and trackers

Notes: Part 1 and part 1.5 here

Gn!reader, teen!reader, Sith!reader

Word Count: 4,031

Light rain pattered against the window, occasionally broken by a violent crack of lightning. They didn’t go together. The rain was barely more than a drizzle, one that children could dance in, but the lightning was fierce enough to make some adults cower in fear.

Ahsokah was neither an adult, nor a child. So instead of dancing or cowering, she studied. She’d found some interesting writings on meditation, and was trying her best to follow the steps. The soft rain helped her get into the zone, and the lighting was a good test of concentration.

One thing kept nagging at her. It had been quite a few days since she’d heard from you. Maybe you’d been found out, and Grievous had ordered that your conversations stop. There was another possibility, one she dreaded even more than the last. What if you had sunk even deeper into the dark side, and decided to cut off communication all on your own? You could be devotedly fighting against the Republic on some far-flung planet.

A peal of thunder rumbled outside, and she pulled herself back to her meditations. If you were countless parsecs away, there was nothing she could do. 

Little did she know, the two of you were mere miles apart, and you were growing ever closer. Your hood stayed up over your head, concealing your face. With help from the Force, you managed to circumnavigate the security measures, and began ascending the side of the Temple.

When you reached the right window, you could see Ahsoka sitting there cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, with a scroll unrolled in front of her. The lights were on, just enough to read by. It was shockingly sparse. Only a bed, low to the ground, and a small table.

Hesitating, you raised your fist to knock on the window. What if this was a mistake? You coming here could endanger Ahsoka, get her in trouble with the Jedi Council, kicked out, even. 

But… You needed her right now. There was nowhere else to go, no one else who could understand. So, you lightly tapped your knuckles against the transparisteel.

Her head darted towards the unexpected sound at the window, and when she saw you, her face was filled with confusion. She said something you couldn’t hear, and when you tried to tell her as much, she motioned for you to wait.

Turning, she picked up one of her lightsabers, and drove it into the window. Within a moment, a circular chunk was missing.

“Y/n?” She said, just barely loud enough to be heard.

“Hey 'Soka.” You said, then promptly tumbled through the hole. She grabbed you a moment before you hit the floor, and helped you sit against the wall.

“What are you doing here?” She asked. “It’s not safe for you!”

“I… I didn’t know where else to go.” At that moment, Ahsoka noticed that blood was trickling down your neck.

“Maker, Y/n.” She said, pushing your cloak out of the way so she could see the cut. “How did this happen? Who did this?”

“I did.” You said. “I had to. Grievous had a tracker implanted in my neck.”

Once she had stopped the bleeding from your neck, Ahsoka’s eyes darted over the rest of you. Your clothes were dirty and wrinkled, like they hadn’t been washed in a few days. You had a few minor scrapes and bruises, but you were tired. Every breath took effort, and your eyes were filled with fear.

“Y/n,” Ahsoka started, “How are you going to get back to Grievous’s ship?”

“I’m not going back.” You said. “I can’t go back.”

“Well, I can’t hide you here.”

“Tano, I would never ask you to.” 

“What do you suggest I do?” She asked.

“Turn me in.” You said, and Ahoska gave you an astonished look. “It’s the only way you don’t get in trouble with the Council, and I stay safe from the Sith.”

A moment passed, one in which the two of you just sat, inches apart, taking in the gravity of the situation.

“Can we just have a few more moments?” She finally asked. 

“Of course, ‘Soka.”

When Ahsoka called for the guards, they clapped specially-crafted Mandalorian manacles onto your wrists, and brought you to the medic, who patched up the back of your neck. They locked you in a small cell until the Council could be assembled. Waiting there was the worst part. It gave you plenty of time to sit and reflect.

Ever since your encounter with Ahsoka at the ruined temple, the two of you would avoid each other on the battlefield. One night, you received an encrypted message. It was just one short question.

Why did you let me go?

And you replied with the simple, honest, answer.

I don’t know.

From that point on, you become each other's confidants. Strategic information was never shared, since the consequences of espionage were much worse than simply fraternizing with the enemy, but more personal matters– doubts, dreams, dreads– were all fair game. Because of this, Ahsoka knew things about you that you wouldn’t dare tell anyone else and vice versa.

She first suggested you join the Jedi a few months after you started talking. Deep down, you knew what the Sith were doing wasn’t right, but years of conditioning and propaganda with just enough truth sprinkled in was hard to break away from. So you declined her offer.

Again, when you were stranded on a planet with her, she brought up the idea. She even suggested you could fake your death and go back to the Temple with her. It was tempting, and she had convinced you that the Sith were doing more harm than good. Ultimately, the idea didn’t pan out.

You were pulled out of your reminiscing when the guards came to escort you to the Council Chamber. The twelve Jedi Masters were seated in a circle, and you were guided to the middle. 

“Y/n y/l/n.” Began a man with dark skin and a bald head. “We know you are a Separatist, and the apprentice of General Grievous. You have fought against the Republic and the Jedi Order for years, taking down waves of our troops and foiling countless missions. Today you are brought before the Council in a strange turn of events including but not limited to breaking into the Jedi Temple.”

“Your side,” Said a short shriveled green man, “You now must tell us.”

“I was a Separatist,” You said, “But I have turned against Grievous and the entirety of the dark side of the force. I wish to study at the Jedi Temple, but I understand you have your reservations, and that it is a real possibility that I will spend the rest of my days in a cell.

“For now, the CIS are unaware that I have defected, but when they do figure it out, they will hunt me down. I have only one request: Wherever you lock me up, make sure it has the best of security.”

“We will see.” The bald man said. “We have further questions. Why did you go to Ahsoka Tano?”

“She and I met before, during multiple battles.” You replied simply, casting a glance towards the door, where Ahsoka was standing with her master Anakin. “And I felt that our similarity in age would help me gain her trust.”

The questioning went on for a little while longer, until, satisfied with your answers, the green man spoke.

“A moment we must have,” He said, “To discuss. Back to your cell, you will go. Call you we will, when a decision we have reached.”

On your way out, you exchanged the briefest of glances with Ahsoka. A look of thanks passed between the two of you, like Ahsoka grateful you did not bring up your secret correspondence. 

Not too long later, you were called back to the Council Chamber.

“It has been decided that you will be welcomed into the Order,” Said the bald jedi, who you learned was Mace Windu. “You will live here, and be trained in the light side of the force.”

“Thank you!” You said, a smile spreading across your face.

“Padawan Tano and Master Kenobi, you should thank.” Said Yoda. “Spoke on your behalf, they did.”

“Understand that there are caveats to this agreement.” Master Windu continued, “You will stay on the Temple grounds with supervision at all times. You will not be allowed access to your lightsabers, or communication to anyone outside the Temple.”

“Of course,” Obi Wan jumped in, “You will also provide us with any and all future CIS plans.”

“Of course.” You nodded, just happy they weren’t shipping you off to a prison planet, or executing you here and now. Once the rules were all laid out, they had the guards show you to your room. It was as bare as Ahsoka’s, except it was equipped with a security camera, and the windows were too small to fit through.

A short time later, Ahsoka joined you. She brought some robes and some scrolls for you, along with dinner.

“Honestly,” She said as the two of you sat cross legged on the floor, “I was surprised they let you in.”

“Me too.” You said, scooping up a bite from your bowl. “I thought the whole ‘fighting against you all in a war’ thing would’ve given them a bit more pause.”

“Yes, that,” Ahsoka agreed, “But also, you’re really old.”

“Excuse me?” You raised an eyebrow at her. “I am, like, a few months older than you at most.”

“I know that, Y/n,” She scoffed, “What I meant is that Anakin is one of the oldest people they’ve agreed to train, and even then there were some grumblings about it.”

“Well,” You shrugged, “They already agreed. Can’t go back now!” You had another bite. “How old was Anakin? I can’t be that much older.”

“He was nine.”

“Oh.”

Ahsoka left to go to bed, but said she’d be back in the morning to take you to breakfast and show you around the Temple. 

“I’ve got a few day’s shore leave,” She said as she was leaving, “But after that I’ve gotta keep kicking Separatist butt.”

True to her word, the next morning she was in your room right as you finished getting dressed.

“Do you know where I should put these?” You said, holding up your old Sith robes. The red and black patterning stood out harshly against the soft neutral colors of the room.

“The laundry basket’s in the closet.” She said, nodding her head in its direction. “Let’s go, we’re burning daylight here. The sun’s been up for nearly a half hour! By the time we get to the Refectory, all the good food’s gonna be gone.”

Just as Ahsoka predicted, there was no good food left. After breakfast – which wasn’t all that bad – Ahsoka brought you to a quiet, dimly lit room, then left. Inside was a small group of people, mostly children, seated in a circle around an older Jedi. 

She beckoned you to an empty cushion on the ground, and briefly explained that they were practicing silent meditation, and that the goal was to completely quiet your mind and body.

One of the conditions of your staying here was getting some training to combat the Sith teachings, so here you were, meditating cross-legged with a class of children. The silence sank into your bones, at first you tried to fight it, but when it eventually settled, you found yourself with a strange sense of peace.

You did as the instructor said, and whenever a thought or feeling entered your mind you acknowledged it, and let it drift away. For a moment you felt the anger and pain drift away, too. It was like a weight had been eased off your mind.

But when your concentration wavered, the weight settled on you once more. 

After meditation the older Jedi led your group to the refectory. Ahsoka met up with you there. In the afternoon neither you nor Ahsoka had any obligations, so you spent it in the gardens. There, you saw a Jedi digging through the dirt holding a plant with wide heart-shaped leaves. The edges faded to green, while the rest was a pleasing pinkish red. 

“Oh hello!” Said the Jedi, straightening up from his work, “Have you come to help out in the garden?”

“Uh…” You glanced at Ahsoka, unsure what to say. 

“We would love to.” She said. So that afternoon was spent working peacefully in the garden. The Jedi you were working with was old, like your meditation instructor. He had the odd tendency to be silent for many minutes, state something completely out of the blue, and immediately go back to silence.

“Gardening used to be a popular activity among the Jedi.” He said, “Everyone from Younglings to geezers like me would be up here, digging through the dirt.” He said wistfully, “But that was before the war. Now we’ve got children out there fighting. It’s just us old folks holding down the fort here. Keeping the Younglings learning and such. You two are the only teenagers I’ve seen around here in a long time.” 

“I will be here for a while.” You said, “If that’s any consolation.”

“Hm.” He grunted, and pleasant silence descended again. 

And so went your days. Dinners with Ahsoka cross-legged on the floor, classes in restraining anger, teaching morality, and afternoons in the gardens, and weekly check-ins with the Jedi Council. You were still getting into the groove of things, when one night Ahsoka told you she had to leave.

“Wait what?” You asked, nearly choking on the bite of food in your mouth, “Already? It’s only been a few days!”

“I know,” Ahsoka said, “I know, but this war still needs fighting.” 

“Do you at least know when you’ll be back?” You asked, eyes downcast and voice full of sadness.

“No.” Ahsoka saw the look in your eyes, she continued, “But your information has been invaluable. We’re winning, Y/n. The end is in sight. Soon no one will have to fight.”

“Yeah.” You said. “That’s… Comforting I guess. I just wish that I could talk to you, while you’re gone.”

“We could ask the Council to make an exception to the ‘no outside contact’ rule,” She suggested, “Say that you need someone your age to talk to.”

“That might work,” You said, “I’ll still miss you though.”

“I know. I’ll miss you, too.”

You were granted permission to talk with Ahsoka while she was gone. Nothing about her locations or missions, and they read all your messages before sending them, but it meant you got to preserve the friendship. 

When she finally returned, it was like you were a different person. You happily wore the brown robes, tended the gardens, meditated, and lived without fear. The lessons you had been taught were sinking in, and the peace that came with them washed over every aspect of your life. 

The moment she got back, Ahsoka started looking for you. She found you in the gardens, watering and digging. Your entire demeanor had shifted. You carried yourself like you knew you belonged, and yet humbly. You dutifully attended to your work, and Ahsoka felt more at peace simply being in the same room as you.

“Y/n.” She said. You poked your head up from the bushes, and smiled at her.

“Hey Tano.” You said, brushing your hands off against your robe and standing up, “I’m glad to see you again.”

The two of you walked through the Temple together, talking for hours. 

“You…” She started, “I’ve only been gone a few weeks, but you seem so different now. Happier.”

“That’s because I am.” You said, “Happier, that is. I’m finally discovering peace.”

“Good.” She smiled at you, “Because you deserve it.”

The night before Ahsoka left again, she brought you dinner.

“Hey Y/n.” She said, holding a greasy bag up, “I brought you some food from Dex’s, since refectory food is all nutrition, hold the flavor.” Just like that first night, you sat on the floor of your room, and talked late into the night.

“Imma miss you.” You said as Ahsoka was just about to step through the door.

“I know,” Ahsoka paused, “But I have some good news. My friend Barriss Offee’s gonna be here for a bit. I think you’ll like her.”

And sure enough, you and Barriss hit it off. She was a little older than Ahsoka, and was able to give you some guidance. She often joined you in the garden, or for meditation. 

She was interested in your swap from the Seperatist’s side, perhaps a little too interested. She often asked about what you were taught as a Sith, which made you uncomfortable. Whenever that came up you steered the conversation away.

It was probably just her naturally investigative personality. That's another thing you liked about her, she was smart. You could point to any plant, painting, or carving in the Temple and she knew something interesting about it.

Occasionally, she would share her doubts about the Order with you. It reminded you of your secret correspondence with Ahsoka, back before you joined the Jedi, so you indulged her. Her concerns were similar to those Ahsoka had, mostly centered around the war, but they were different. These weren't just lamentations that the world was messed up and the Jedi Order needed reform, they were more like subtle hints that the Order itself was the problem. 

It was almost like she was probing you to see if you shared these beliefs. You brushed it off the first few times, but as the hints became less subtle, and her ideas less like ideas and more like plans, you resolved to tell the Council at your next weekly check in. It was just a few days away. In the meantime, you compiled all the worrying things you’d heard Barriss say so you could show them to the Council. 

The day finally came, and as you walked down the hall to the Council Chamber, you had your head buried in a tablet, going over what Barriss said one last time. You tucked it away just before entering the room. 

It was dark. The room was empty, except for one man lurking in the shadows. He stepped forward, and you saw it was Obi-Wan.

“They thought it would be better if you heard it from me,” he said. You were close with Obi-Wan, and often sought him out for advice. He stuck up for you during the Council’s private discussion, since he truly believed in you.

“Master Kenobi,” You said, “Is everything okay? Where are the other Masters? Is Ahsoka in trouble–”

“No,” He interrupted, “She’s fine. I’m here to return these to you.” He opened a small box, which contained your Sith robes. They seemed familiar and yet out of place. Just a relic of a part of your life that was long gone.

“Why would I need these?” You asked. Kenoi stayed silent. Searching for an answer, you looked at his face. His eyes were filled with regret and resolve.

“I’m so sorry.” He said.

“Why would I need these?” You asked again, voice more serious.

“You are part of a prisoner exchange.”

“No.” You shook your head, “No, I can’t go back. I’m not going back! They’ll kill me! Master Kenobi please-”

“They don’t know you defected.” He said, once again interrupting you.

“Then where do they think I was?” You questioned.

“As far as they know, you were imprisoned by the Republic.”

“How is this fair?” You spat, “I betrayed the CIS, the Sith, and everyone I used to know for a chance at joining the Order, and this is how it repays me? By manipulating me to get all the information it needed and then sending me back to the very same evils I fled? 

“The Jedi Council never manipulated you.” Obi-Wan said, his voice infuriatingly serene and steady.

“Really?” You scoffed. “You imprisoned me, and didn’t even bother to let me know. I trusted you.” 

Your voice lowered to barely above a horse whisper. 

“You let me believe I had a future here.”

“I thought you did, too.” He said, “I’m sorry.”

“Can I at least say goodbye?” You asked after a moment of silence. Tears started to gather in the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. 

“No.” He replied. “We have to leave now.” 

You nodded, and followed him to a transport shuttle. It took about a day of travel to get to the exchange point. First you took a small shuttle, then a larger ship, a landing pod, and finally you rode on the back of Cody’s speeder. The whole time you didn’t utter a single word. 

It was a remote planet. Just farms with little to no strategic value. You were wearing your Sith robes once more, and your arms were shackled behind you to align with your ‘prisoner of war’ story. You’d gotten there before Grievous, so you leaned against the bike while the clones and Obi-Wan sent out snipers to stay hidden in the surrounding hills’ shrubbery. The long grass rippled in the slight breeze, and the sun beat down. A few wispy clouds drifted lazily across the sky as the minutes ticked by.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the CIS finally showed up. Their speeders kicked up a storm of dust, which could be seen from miles away, even with the rolling hills. They slid to a halt on the other edge of a dusty clearing in perfect formation; Grievous at the center, flanked by a v shape of commando droids. 

The metallic General dismounted, pulled a tied-up Jedi from the back of his bike, and shoved him to a droid. Cody started to grab your arm to lead you forward, but you shoved him off of you and affixed a look of disdain to your face.

Back when you first met him, this attitude would have come naturally, but now, after learning empathy, you actually felt bad for the clones. They didn’t ask to be soldiers. They never had a choice. But you couldn’t think about that right now. You had to keep up the guise of a disgruntled young Sith, complete with eye-rolling and sneers.

Cody walked you halfway across the patch of dusty ground while a droid brought over the captured Jedi. After confirming that the Jedi was alright, Cody signaled to Obi-Wan, and the exchange was confirmed. Before you left, Cody passed you a box containing your lightsabers. As you were rushed to the Separatist speeders, you dared to cast a final glance back at the Republic forces. 

They were too busy welcoming their returned friend to even look at you. 

“Each time you find yourself scooped up by the Republic reflects poorly on me.” Grievous continued berating you as the commando droids loaded the bikes onto the shuttle. “Have you learned nothing? When will you stop allowing yourself to be snatched by these pieces of Republic scum?” 

“Those reflections are deserved!” You spat back. “You seem to forget that it is your job to teach me to fight. Instead you’re too busy chasing down Kenobi for some personal feud that he doesn’t even seem to know (much less care) about.” 

Those words hung in the air for a moment.

“Ha.” He laughed hollowly, “Perhaps you have learned something.” He then climbed into the shuttle. You knew he expected you to follow, but you could tell your emotions were reaching a boiling point. Instead of thinking about leaving Ahsoka without saying goodbye, or how the council betrayed you, you changed the sadness into blind rage. 

The wood of a nearby tree splintered as though an invisible hand crushed it. You looked at your hands, squeezed into fists so tight that your nails broke the skin, and realized that had been you. You had unintentionally channeled the Force. Slowly, you loosened your fists, and a few splinters fell away from the tree trunk.

From that day on, anger would be your fuel, and it would serve you well.

Tag!!! (You're it)

@thegirlinrainbowsworld

[siswritesyanderes]

Read your Yandere Phineas fic again cause I love it.

Couldn’t help but think about Candace Flynn in this situation, who finds out about Reader.

Candace, who realizes she has to intervene and stop her brother because his obsessive, stalker behavior is a problem that has to be stopped.

Candace, who always fails to bust her brothers.

This is great in a lot of ways, because immediately I'm thinking about Phineas's reaction to knowing Candace's intent to stop him, and it's like...

In the show he's consistently positive and chill about the fact that Candace is trying to bust him and Ferb. Sometimes he acts like he doesn't know she's doing it, like when he'd say something to the effect of "Oh, Candace! You're here to also play with the thing we made!" But he explicitly knows she's trying to bust them. He's said as much in the show, pretty casually. The fact that he knows she's trying to end their fun but remains all smiles with her suggests so much.

First of all, he knows she isn't going to actually successfully ruin anything for him. Stuff has worked out for him always and it's going to keep working out for him because he has a brilliant mind, a positive attitude, and great friends. He sees her scrambling to get their mom to interrupt the fun he's having, and he does not perceive her as an actual threat. She's just his sister being silly.

Second of all, he usually doesn't take what he's doing that seriously. If Candace did get his mom to see that he's building a roller coaster and Linda said to stop building a roller coaster, he'd probably just say "Aw, man," take apart the coaster, and build a different thing tomorrow. (That one episode where they get busted and go to imagination jail or whatever was just a dream Perry had.) We might assume Linda would want to crack down on them doing any more dangerous things in the future, but I think Phineas would be surprised if that was the case. Their dad already knows about some of the stuff they've been up to, and he's been chill about it.

Third of all, Candace's antagonism is a part of the game. It's not even an obstacle in the game. Candace tries to bust them in the same way that Buford "bullies" Baljeet– it's just a thing that happens that isn't genuinely hurting anyone. It's character, it's color. It's a part of her, and she's his sister, and he loves and admires his sister.

But taking all of that in, the times when he's lost his temper at Candace have been when she's actually shown that she might ruin his project for the day. He wants to circumnavigate the globe before sundown, and if she doesn't get on the trike right now, they won't have all met the deadline, so he yells at her to get on the trike. Also, that one time in the Marvel episode. Idk, I only saw that one once, but basically she was such a big Marvel fan that she kept messing stuff up in his work space and he told her to get out.

All of this to say:

If Candace were to confront him like, "Hey, are you stalking that girl??" he would initially take it pretty lightly.

Initially, it's just another round of her hassling him about whatever he's doing while he stays positive. Honestly, he might go, "Yes. Yes I am."

If she lectures him about the moral implications of what he's doing, he would just muse about it with her like they're doing a fun thought experiment, reach the conclusion that what he's doing is actually fine (or resolve to make some small, trivial change to his approach and then brightly thank Candace for reminding him), and just generally shrug everything off.

But if she actually shows signs of taking meaningful steps to stop him– especially trying to warn Reader about what he's doing –he would lose his patience for her part in the game.

I don't think he would yell; he has a better hold on his temper than he did when he was ten, and I'm pretty sure he regretted yelling at her in the Marvel episode. No, he tries to just smile and politely explain to her why she shouldn't get in his way. His smile is tight, like a cheerful warning.

When she refuses to be talked down, he stops smiling. He stops explaining. She can see hints of his adolescent temper behind his eyes, but he doesn't yell.

He doesn't do anything to stop her. As she walks away from him, he just returns to his multi-screen computer set up or whatever other work space he has by this point.

He has contingency plans for this.

He just needs to think of the kindest way to get her out of his way.

[darthstitch]

Professor Cryptid Wet Cat

Look, Professor Gadling being a secret immortal cryptid has already reached peak meme status. The Gdoc is a rabbit hole to get lost in on a rainy day.

But Professor Murphy? Hooo boy. The students are just getting started.

Nobody calls Professor Murphy by his given name of "Thomas." Like, you could try, but he's not going to respond to you, as if the name was just something tacked on for the sake of appearances.

One of the class overheard Professor G calling Professor Murphy "Dream." Now, everyone initially thought that it was just another adorable pet name (there's a running list of them in the Gdoc). But then another student who had been getting drinks at the New Inn had overheard this sweet little boy calling him "Uncle Dream." Go figure.

Here's the thing, though, "Murphy" is an Irish name but there isn't a trace of the Gaelic's music in his accent, proper RP that it normally is. Unless you're an Irish student and suddenly, there's the lilt and the sweetness of the Goídelc in his voice when he talks to you, echoes of the tales of the Children of Lir and Cu Chulainn, best heard as the bards sung them.

The language thing doesn't stop there. Professor Murphy seems to inexplicably know every language ever spoken, happily chatting away in a mix of Tagalog and English with the Filipino students, Welsh with the kids from Wales, French and Italian and Polish and Russian and Swahili and Igbo - circumnavigating the globe as neatly as you please without losing any stride. And then, going back in time, as it were, straight to Middle English.

6. Middle English, as everyone knew, was the language Professor Gadling tended to slip into from time to time and there was something unbearably sweet about how Professor G would refer to his husband as myne owne hertis rote, only for Professor Murphy to answer with my heart's gleam and that lovely little smile. But one hadn't lived until they heard both Professors absently talk to each other in Middle English as if they'd been born speaking that language and had temporarily forgotten that they were already in the 21st century.

7. Suspicions about Professor Murphy being a vampire abounded, until they had all seen him walking in sunlight, with Matthew the Raven on his shoulder. Then it became rumors about Murphy being a Twilight-variant of vampire because he literally glowed in the sun. And had so obviously sent poor Professor Gadling dot exe crashing at the sight.

8. This conversation also happened:

"Who is Edward Cullen and why would he sparkle? And why would all of you be Bella Swan?"

All of the students look at each other. And then:

"I will fong the first person who explains Twilight to poor Professor Murphy, I swear to Christ, I will fong you."

"Perhaps I should ask Matthew."

"Caw! Nevermore!"

9. One of Professor Gadling's classes had taken a trip to the Tower of London and Professor Murphy had just tagged along, much to his husband's delight. Every. Single. Raven. from the Tower had just converged on Murphy as if he were their long lost King or something, cuddling close, cawing in delight. Matthew was so obviously, adorably jealous at the whole thing and somebody could've sworn they heard a distinctly American voice holler: "HEY CLAWS OFF YOU ASSHOLES. GET YOUR OWN DREAM KING!"

10. Sometimes, the students could swear up and down that Matthew the Raven could really, truly, talk. Professor Murphy and his raven have often been seen sitting together, often with Murphy apparently showing the bird something on his smart phone or tablet, deep in discussion with him. Everyone tried very hard not to think about this too deeply, especially since Murphy would often return to the classroom with a better understanding of current jokes and memes once he'd had a "conversation" with Matthew.

11.

"Darling, why do you have a plushie of .... good lord, is this Cthulhu?"

"A gift from my students, my love. We had a rather engrossing lecture on Lovecraft the other day."

"Oh. Oh no. Don't tell me you had the same sort of thing going with him as you did with bloody Shaxbert!"

A huff. "Certainly not. Such a small-minded young man, utterly arrogant - though he did have potential. I thought to teach him a lesson by showing him how insignificant he truly was in the infinite vastness of the universe. His mind almost broke from it."

"Ah. And where does Cthulhu come into this?"

"Lovecraft had a horror of marine creatures, specifically those of the class Cephalopoda. I often took the form of this creature in my nightmare aspect. The wings were an inspired touch, I believe. He was near out of his mind with terror - some of my finest work."

"Of course you were bloody Cthulhu, why am I not surprised? My adorable little eldritch abomination..."

"Hob Gadling, there is nothing adorable about me -- a;dkjf;adlkfja;dlkf!"

12. Rose Walker's first novel Into the Night was a best seller and readers everywhere rejoiced when they heard it would become a series. Readers also fell in love with the enigmatic King of Dreams, the antagonist in Ms. Walker's book. Thus, the second novel in the series, The Prince of Stories, was eagerly awaited by many. Once again, the same mysterious voice actor did the audiobook, which quickly climbed to the top of the charts in all the platforms of its release. But what drove Professor Murphy's students into a tizzy was Ms. Walker's dedication: "For Uncle Dream, our Prince of Stories" and the following exchange:

"Professor Murphy, we didn't know you were a fan of Rose Walker."

A proud smile. "My niece has quite the story to tell. I've been looking forward to reading her next book."

"You're Rose Walker's Uncle Dream?!"

-end-

Am I writing more of what I started in this POST - yes, yes, I am.

Do you guys want to see a more complete version of the first story? It's in AO3.

[bambamramfan]

This is obviously a critical response. Also Scott has posted his follow-up post "Highlights from the Comments" here, which I'm also responding to.

Now, even if you aren't conservative I think there is real value in saying "a major cultural change, focused on some sectors, recently happened. WHY did it happen. What were the turning points and structural factors." And I don't think "because we suddenly became better people" is a good answer to that. So exploring the cause and effect from civil rights law to the social justice shift is not, a priori, a bad idea.

Hanania's very partisan and activist slant on the question I disagree with, but it doesn't mean he makes no good empirical points. If you only read the people you agree with, well, they tend not to circulate inconvenient facts to your side and then you get blind-sided. And despite his reputation, I really do like RH's writing on China. And I'm on the record that running large parts of employment regulation through a very tiny errata of the Civil Rights Act, leads to absurd and bad outcomes and bad law.

But I'm pretty disappointed at his book (as summed up here) and Scott's moderate reaction to it. I'm glad Scott pointed out "these administrative changes in the 1970's are unlikely to be responsible for a cultural shift that hit max velocity in 2014." Because Scott gives a lot of credit to the dystopia it paints of government and corporate hiring programs forced to circumnavigate huge vagaries by implementing contradictory and Orwellian hiring standards. The second comments post does this even more so. And I feel that even when these anecdotes are factually correct, they are leaving out extremely important context. To wit:

Bureaucratic hiring processes are already this Orwellian process of doublespeak that pay attention to a lot of factors besides who would be the best at the job. All the procedures people describe were already in place, just for other types of qualifications. Random example: Harvard prides itself on always have a student from every state in it's undergraduate body. Some of our states represent about 0.2% of the population. To guarantee that say Wyoming or Idaho always have someone on campus, you basically have to target geographically - and not by merit. Or a hedge fund that wants to impress investors by hiring graduates from the right schools, even if they've found ambitious state school students are better bang for the buck. It was never the case that employers cared purely for merit and then race came into play, even if it is the case that race is now one of several factors they have to juggle for.

Here's the bigger issue. The book and review really emphasizes how terrible it is to be caught in the bind that the US government wants organizations to be racially equitable, but it doesn't just give a list of rules to follow. It says "you figure it out. So long as you don't cause a problem that's fine. But if someone thinks you're racist, they can sue, and we'll have to prove it out in court." This creates an environment where the rules are unclear, and the best you can do is follow the best practices that similar organizations do, and say you were trying your best. And so if some organizations for idiosyncratic reasons take diversity more seriously, everyone else is forced to follow suit. For certain types of people this causes scrupulosity spirals. I agree that sucks. But this is by design! Not just in civil rights, but in the entire US administrative state, it was decided long ago. See, you can have a legal environment where regulations are enforced either through: a) An agency draws up all the rules for companies to follow, and has the workforce to go inspect every company to make sure they are complying. This is what we do with cars or restaurants, and most of Europe does with a lot more areas than we do. b) The government says "don't fuck this up. You're on your own" and you are left alone until someone thinks you've fucked it up enough that they sue you. Trials are a TERRIBLE way to work this out, but it's supposed to motivate you to be extra careful. This is much more random but much less costly tax wise, so it is the system the US has decided to go with for many of its laws.

So I agree "government by lawsuit" is a terrible curse upon America (and why we have so many more lawyers per capitate than other Western nations.) It leads to all the moral problems this book and review highlights. But it's not limited to the realm of race relations and it's by design so that we don't have to pay more bureaucrats. I doubt Hanania would want us to move to the European model which has less scrupulosity issues.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Here You Come Again [Part Sixteen]

Fandom: Elvis Presley, RPF, American Actor

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character

Characters: Elvis Presley, Addison Goodwin, Original Female Characters, Priscilla Presley, Colonel Tom Parker, Vernon Presley, Gladys Presley, Minnie Mae Presley, Marci Cunningham, Jerry Schilling, Red West, Sonny West, Marty Lacker, Joe Esposito, Charlie Hodge, Lamar Fike, Alan Fortas, George Klein, Memphis Mafia

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Word Count: 3423

Summary: When Addison Goodwin was seventeen years old her life was turned inside out after a chance encounter with her past. Now, fifteen years later her life is the best it’s ever been. She has a home, a good job and a daughter she loves more than anything in the world but will all that remain when an old familiar face rolls into town.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Graceland, Las Vegas, The International Hotel, Elvis In Vegas, 1970s, 1970s Elvis, Friends To Lovers, Rekindled Romance, Parenting, Time Line is Sketchy, Guilt, Betrayal, Teenage Pregnancy, Hawaii, Hidden Pregnancy, Jealousy, Sex, Absence of Parent, Single Motherhood, Trauma, Oral Sex, Tension

Notes: Short and sweet but I promise the next part is longer! Last one after this followed by an epilogue x

LINK TO ALL PARTS // LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST

Jess had been rifling through her suitcase, hoping that the top she had worn yesterday could take another outing when the door burst open and Addison came in slamming it closed behind her as she said, ‘pack your shit we’re leaving.’

‘What?’ Jess asked watching as her mother started pulling clean clothes out of the closet.

‘Mom,’ Jess said but Addison didn’t say anything and instead she thrust the pile of clothes towards her daughter who took them, though instead of putting them in her case she just let them hang limply over her arms. She didn’t know what the matter was but her mother’s face was frantic, like it had been the day she’d first met her dad. Yet when Jess didn’t move it fell into a scowl as Addison said, ‘I mean now Jess.’

‘Mom what’s going on?’ Jess asked worriedly.

‘Please just do as I ask,’ Addison said moving back to the closet, gathering items haphazardly as she threw them on the bed hoping her daughter would spur into action that would allow her to circumnavigate any questions. But Addison wasn’t that lucky. Jess’ familiar blue eyes were watching her, her face plastered with concern. She’d always gone with what her mother wanted, she hadn’t pushed because she trusted her mom would do what was best, but now she had a sinking feeling in her gut. One that she doubted would go until she knew what was going on.

‘Mom what’s happening?’ she asked as Addison continued to move around her, taking the items out of her hands as realised Jess had failed to move.

‘Jess please,’ Addison said pleadingly.

‘No,’ Jess said firmly making Addison stop in her tracks. She folded her arms across her chest watching her mother expectantly, the way Elvis did when he knew she was keeping something from him. She didn’t want to tell her. She didn’t want to get into it, to rehash all the pain that was swirling inside her at that moment. She didn’t want to go through it because she knew she was in the wrong too, that she shouldn’t have let herself get so close, to give them both hope.

‘Jess please,’ Addison said placing her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, gnawing on her lip as she tried to keep herself from crying.

‘No not until you tell me what’s wrong,’ Jess said watching her mother closely. Watching her expression, one Jess knew only came when she was trying not to cry, something clicked into place as she said, ‘you guys had a fight didn’t you?’

Addison sighed moving away to busy herself with packing. She should’ve known she’d see through her, after all, Elvis could always read her even when others couldn’t.

‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ Jess said making Addison’s movements slow, ‘what happened?’

‘You don’t need to know this stuff,’ Addison said quietly.

‘Because I’m a kid?’ Jess scoffed making her mother turn around in an instant.

‘Of course because you’re a kid!’ Addison said, ‘Jess this stuff-’

‘Involves me. If it involves you two it involves me and I think I should be included don’t you?’ Jess said waiting for her mother who remained stony-faced and silent, ‘fine if you don’t want to tell me I’ll just go and ask Dad.’

She started moving towards the door making Addison sling the stuff she had been holding down as she rushed forward to stop her.

‘Okay, okay,’ Addison said quickly before she sighed and took a seat on the cluttered bed. Jess hesitated but then she moved to sit beside her, waiting for whatever it was to come spilling out of her though all she said was, ‘you’re right…we had a fight.’

‘What about?’ Jess asked tentatively.

‘It’s complicated,’ Addison said peeking at Jess who was waiting patiently for her to continue, ‘he said, we said some stuff…it was bad.’

‘What stuff?’ Jess asked.

‘Like I said it’s complicated,’ Addison said trying to ignore the twinge in her heart as Elvis’s face flashed behind her eyes. The anger, hurt and upset burned into her brain. Though its presence was forced out as Jess said.

‘He’s in love with you isn’t he?’

‘Jess!’ Addison gasped.

‘What I have eyes,’ Jess said, ‘I can tell by the way he looks at you…you look at him the same way.’

‘Honey,’ Addison sighed but Jess was on a roll. She had noticed it well before they had gotten to Hawaii and she was sure that both of them felt the same.

‘What? I mean you love him, he loves you, what more is there to think about?’ Jess asked, her hopes fading as her mother placed a gentle hand on her knee.

‘Jessie it’s not that simple,’ Addison said though as Jess went to protest she dove in. She did love him, she always had, but that was the reason she couldn’t go through it all again. As was the hope in her daughter’s eyes, ‘Jessie I can’t do it again. I wish I could but I just can’t. Last time…it nearly killed me.’

‘But maybe it’ll be different this time,’ Jess pressed on, ‘I mean this time there’s nothing stopping us from being a proper family, right? I know you love him and he loves you too. He wouldn’t hurt you I just know he wouldn’t-’

‘Is that why he threatened to take you away from me?’ Addison asked making her daughter’s eyes go wide. She didn’t mean to do it, she didn’t want to paint him in a bad light, if anything she’d always tried her best to soften the blow of the truth when it came to Jess considering throughout her childhood she had been forced to see how her parents tore chunks out of one another, but she needed Jess to understand. She needed her to realise that her actions, whilst not logical to everyone, did have a deeper meaning.

‘Mom, I would never,’ Jess said in little more than a whisper.

‘I know,’ Addison said stroking her face gently, ‘but like I said it was bad…and I can’t be around him right now not with all of this up in the air.’

‘Okay,’ Jess nodded.

‘Okay,’ Addison said taking a deep breath, ‘let’s get you packed up then.’

‘I meant okay I understand you don’t want to be around him,’ Jess corrected making her falter, ‘look I know you guys have had a fight and I know whatever’s going on between you isn’t going to be fixed fast-’

‘But-’

‘But he’s still my dad,’ Jess said firmly, ‘and you promised that we could try this and that no matter what I’d have you.’

‘Of course you will-’

‘So I’m not going to ask you to spend every minute with him,’ Jess said taking her own deep breath as nerves started to bubble inside her, ‘but I am going to ask that we stay. Because if some of your reasoning is to protect me or whatever what point is there in running away? And if it’s hard, if it’s awkward I’ll jump in…like you did for me the first time he came to the house, okay?’

The words seemed to hit Addison a good thirty seconds before the sentiment kicked in. It wasn’t what she wanted, all she wanted to do was get out of there even if that proved Elvis right about her, but she could see her daughter had a point. She kept saying that she was doing this for Jess, would that still be true if she didn’t take her daughter's needs into account? It also struck her just how kind and loving her daughter was, though that was something she already knew. All this time she had worried about how including Elvis in their lives would affect her and it turned out she was handling their situation better than either of her parents.

‘When did you get so grown up huh?’ Addison said with a sad smile as she pulled her in for a hug. Jess nestled herself on her mother’s shoulder, her arms wrapping around her torso.

‘You miss a lot when you’re drooling over Dad,’ Jess joked making Addison laugh though it was a little flatter than she hoped. They were quiet for a moment before Jess managed to work up the nerve to ask something further, ‘does this mean we can stay?’

‘Yeah,’ Addison sighed, stroking her daughter’s hair, ‘I can’t promise it’ll be like it was…I might need some space.’

‘That’s fine,’ Jess said pulling out of their embrace, ‘you hang with Aunt Mar. I’ll handle Dad.’

‘I shouldn’t be asking you to do this,’ Addison frowned.

‘Why not? We’ve always got each other that’s what you promised,’ Jess said, ‘I’m happy to help.’

Though before Addison could agree there was a knock at the door. They both looked at it, wondering who it could be this early, but they were saved from the suspense as Jess got up to open it. Standing outside the door was Elvis who offered her a smile before he peered in and noticed Addison sitting on the bed.

‘Oh, uh, hey,’ he said. Addison said nothing.

‘Everything okay?’ Jess said leaning on the door and moving it forward so his view was obscured.

‘Fine, uh, Lisa’s wondering if you want to come down the beach,’ Elvis said nervously.

‘Yeah,’ Jess said though she looked towards her mother, wondering if their little pow-wow was done. Addison nodded though it was a gesture so minute anyone else but the pair of them probably would’ve missed it.

‘Great,’ Elvis said looking down the path to where Lisa was standing, hand in hand with Vernon, eagerly awaiting the pair of them to get a move on.

‘Two ticks,’ Jess said moving away so that she could run into the bathroom, grabbing the t-shirt she had been debating wearing on her way past. She changed in record speed, ignoring how her bathing suit was still slightly damp as she put it on underneath her clothes. Yet it wasn’t quick enough and when she reappeared Elvis was now standing inside her room, watching her mother as she looked away from him, her arms wrapped around herself as she tried to hold her entire being together.

‘Ready,’ Jess said grabbing her beach bag off the bed and taking a stand in front of him, hoping he’d stop watching Addison and move towards the door, but he didn’t move, in fact, he looked down at her, pleading in his eyes as he said.

‘Actually, could I speak to your mom for a minute,’ he said.

‘Isn’t everyone waiting?’ Jess asked glancing at her mother.

‘It’s fine Jess,’ Addison said offering her a reassuring smile. Jess looked between them and then sighed.

‘Two minutes, okay?’ she asked looking at Elvis as sternly as she could muster.

‘Two minutes,’ he promised. And then with one final look at the pair of them, she headed out towards where Lisa and Vernon were waiting.

Elvis waited thinking that she might start first. Now that the fear had settled, he didn’t doubt she had a slew of things waiting for him and yet as he watched her they didn’t come. The only thing that did come as he took her in was a distinct ache in his chest.

‘Addie,’ he said finally making her look at him though her face was plastered in a scowl which somehow hurt worse. At least if she was screaming at him she was still talking to him. When she didn’t say anything he sighed.

‘Look I know you don’t want to speak to me right now and I don’t blame ya,’ he said earning a scoff, ‘but luckily I don’t need you to talk I just need you to listen.’

She didn’t say anything but the scowl faded as she waited for him to say whatever it was he needed to.

‘I’m sorry okay. Bringing up Jess and…and Mona like that was wrong,’ Elvis admitted.

‘You think?’ Addison said angrily.

‘You’re mad I get that,’ he said holding his hands up, ‘but I think you’re wrong too. I think you’re wrong for not giving us a shot. I think you’re wrong for not even trying. And I know you keep saying it’s for Jess or whatever but I meant what I said. I think you’re using Jess so you don’t have to admit you’re protecting yourself. I love you Addison, always have… and I know you love me too.’

They were staring at each other now, the tension between them palpable though it wasn’t like when they had been yelling at one another. This was worse. At least in the heat of the moment she could write off his words, now they were meticulous, planned out and each one cut deeper than the other though she knew that was only because they were laced with truth.

‘But,’ he sighed making her brows knit together, ‘but I’m not gonna force it. I can’t make you love me Addie, or make you admit that you do whatever way around it is. I can’t hang on hoping that one day you’ll decide to love me back. Now that doesn’t mean that I’m just gonna up and leave either. Like it or not I am gonna be in your life, in our daughter’s life…I just hope when you’re ready to admit it it’s not too late.’

And with that he strode out of the room, trying to ignore the sting of tears in his eyes as he walked out into the bright Hawaiian sunshine.

As they walked down to the beach he was quiet, every moment running through his brain in a cycle taunting him for what he did wrong. He tried to tell himself he had been in the right, that for the most part, he had a point, yet that didn’t take the broken way she had looked at him after he’d mentioned Mona out of his mind. The only solace he had as they walked down the sandy path to the beautiful beach was that he had been honest. That he had told her everything and now the ball was in her court.

That didn’t stop the ache in his chest though, it didn’t stop Jess and Vernon from sharing a look as he over-acted trying to remain as normal as possible as he followed Lisa down to the sea. At least spending time with the girls he didn’t have to think about it. Well almost.

He had taken a seat on his towel, dusting the wet sand off his legs when Jess plonked down next to him, her blue eyes watching and waiting for him as though he needed to explain himself.

‘What?’ he asked hoping her scrutiny wasn’t what he thought it was.

‘What happened?’ Jess asked.

‘What are you talking about?’ he asked casually.

‘What did you say to her?’ Jess pressed.

‘Jess,’ Elvis sighed.

‘Don’t bother lying to me because she already told me most of it,’ Jess said taking Elvis off guard. That wasn’t a good sign, if Addison was willing to let the façade break even a little bit in front of Jess it meant that the situation was dire.

‘You know we had a fight?’ Elvis asked.

‘Yeah,’ Jess said. Elvis sighed and looked out towards the sea. Lisa was with some of the other kids, running along the waterline as they allowed the waves to chase them up the beach. Carefree, happy. Something he wished he could feel at that moment in time. Jess watched him for a moment.

‘You love her don’t you?’ she asked after a minute. Elvis looked towards her, unable to protest.

‘Did you tell her?’ Jess asked though her face fell as Elvis looked at her pointedly, ‘oh, that’s what the fight was about.

‘I thought she told you most of it,’ Elvis said raising an eyebrow as Jess blushed.

‘Well she skated over a few details,’ Jess admitted, ‘but I got the gist of it…what I don’t understand is how you telling her you love her led to a screaming match.’

‘You’ve never been in love I take it,’ Elvis chuckled though it dimmed as Jess rolled her eyes. He wanted to be honest with his daughter, yet he didn’t have the heart to tell her what had kicked it all off in the first place. How the hurt and anger he had felt with Addison had pushed him onto the nearest girl around. How he’d taken her to bed, wishing for every minute that it was Addison.

‘Jess, I know this isn’t going to come as a shock to you but your mother isn’t exactly the easiest woman to deal with,’ he said making Jess smirk.

‘I know,’ Jess sighed, ‘she’s hardheaded, stubborn, uncooperative, unreasonable…and yet you love her anyway.’

‘Yeah, I do,’ Elvis smiled. It was true. Out of all the women he’d ever dated Addison was all the things he’d profess never to want. And yet all those qualities were things he loved about her. They infuriated him of course, but they had a hold on him. He was no more able to resist her now than when she was three years old and demanding he play house with her.

‘And she loves you too,’ Jess said.

‘Jessie,’ Elvis sighed. He knew she did but hearing someone confirm it other than his own thoughts hurt more than he anticipated.

‘She does love you back I know she does,’ Jess said firmly.

‘I know,’ Elvis said pulling her into him as he sighed, ‘but that doesn’t mean she wants to be with me, honey.’

‘She’s just scared,’ Jess said, ‘I mean last time she felt that way it all went wrong. When the Colonel sent her away-’

‘How do you know about that?’ Elvis said pulling back. Though Addison and he had gone through everything that had happened in their late-night talks she had always said Jess didn’t need to know the ins and outs of everything. And from the look on his daughter’s face, it hadn’t been her mother to tell her.

‘Grandpa told me,’ Jess said biting her lip as Elvis’ jaw tightened, ‘but I made him. I begged him please don’t be angry with him it’s not his fault.’

‘He shouldn’t have told you,’ Elvis said looking down the beach to where his father was lying reading his book, unknowingly being ratted out.

‘It’s my story too remember,’ Jess said making his gaze fall back on her, his expression softening a touch, ‘and I know you guys think I’m just a kid and I know you want to protect me or whatever but that doesn’t mean I don’t see everything y’know? I remember it all.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do you think that in fourteen years mom didn’t have a chance at being happy? At meeting someone new?’ Jess asked raising an eyebrow. Elvis’ brow furrowed; he hadn’t thought about it much before. When Jess had blown his questions off he had allowed that answer to be the truth in his mind because he hadn’t wanted to think about it.

‘I suppose,’ he said.

‘I used to think it was because she was worried about me. That if she let herself be anything other than a mom it would upset me but now…now I don’t think that’s what it was,’ Jess admitted, ‘I think she didn’t allow herself to do that stuff because…well because she was still in love with you. And well I can see why she might think it could go wrong, how it might not last…I mean you got married-’

‘I didn’t stop,’ Elvis said, the words falling out of his mouth without him giving them permission, ‘I never stopped loving her.’

‘So don’t stop now,’ Jess said, ‘please?’

‘Jess,’ Elvis sighed.

‘She’ll realise it I promise she will,’ Jess said, ‘just don’t give up on her just yet.’

‘Oh honey,’ Elvis said pulling her back into his side. They sat there for a moment, both looking out towards the gently lapping blue sea, listening to the wind as it rustled through the palm trees behind them. She didn’t look up but after a moment Jess spoke.

‘Dad?’ she said tentatively.

‘Yeah?’ Elvis asked still watching the waves.

‘Maybe next time don’t tell her you’re gonna take me away?’ Jess said making Elvis’ heart twinge. It had been a stupid remark, one he hadn’t meant and hearing the way Jess’ voice sounded made him feel all the more worse.

‘I never would baby,’ Elvis said firmly, ‘I never would.’

SERIES TAGS

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[esther-dot]

"Gently, he spoke of Braavos, and met a wall of sullen courtesy as icy and unyielding as the Wall he had walked once in the north. It made him weary. Then and now."- Tyrion(ASOS VIII).

"I hate this Wall," she said in a low angry voice. "Can you feel how cold it is?"- Jon(ASOS IV)

"I almost fell," she said, with tears in her eyes. "Twice. Thrice. The Wall was trying t' shake me off, I could feel it." One of the tears broke free and trickled slowly down her cheek."- Jon(ASOS IV).

Tyrion and Ygritte feeling weary of the Wall and hating the Wall.

Oh, 👀👀 Years ago I wrote this:

We also have all those references to her courtesy being a wall (I’ve been collecting them to write about it sometime) and Tyrion wishing to get around it but he can’t. I’ve mentioned before how it’s fitting that Sansa, who bled for the North’s freedom as a prisoner in KL, would secure the North’s freedom, but I forget how Sansa’s refusal to have sex with Tyrion, her refusal to let him in, isn’t cruel, isn’t just about sex, it’s a decision that is protecting the North. I know the fandom likes to use Tyrion’s decision to not rape her as a sign of his virtue, but Sansa builds a wall to protect herself, and with it, Winterfell. A shame that’s not appreciated more. (link)

So I'm very interested in Sansa's wall and Jon's declarations of the Wall is mine which happen throughout ASOS and ADWD, especially as his struggle between his vow/the Wall and desire for Winterfell is decided in his declaration that Winterfell belongs to Sansa, a contrast to Tyrion who wishes to use Sansa to take Winterfell. Tyrion being pained and frustrated by his child bride (who was a prisoner of his family!) not opening up to him has got to be one of the most self-absorbed moments in the story. I’m just incredulous each time I read it but moving on

There are many intersections between the ASOS Jonsa chapters, and this one seems pertinent as it is another connection between Tyrion and Ygritte:

Jon is in a similar position with Ygritte (a captive being forced into a "marriage") as Sansa is with Tyrion. And, in addition to the general similarities, when they both are “married” (Sansa officially, Jon by giving in and having sex) there is this: "Two hearts that beat as one. Mance Rayder's mocking words rang bitter in his head. Jon had seldom felt so confused." (ASOS, Jon III) "'Here in the sight of gods and men,' he said, 'I do solemnly proclaim Tyrion of House Lannister and Sansa of House Stark to be man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them.'" (ASOS, Sansa III) Those lines in the chapters with similar considerations mimic each other as a mockery of Jon and Sansa’s romantic ideals, their dreams, what they would want a marriage to be. (link)

Sansa is greatful for what she deems Tyrion's kindess to her, her feelings never develop beyond that although he does respect her boundary on the wedding night and opts not to force her to have sex with him. Jon on the other hand develops deep feelings for Ygritte, so her lines about the Wall trying to throw her off are fascinating to me if we're reading it as more than her experience with the physical Wall. We could read it as references to Jon's attempts to prevent her from sleeping with him, his feelings immediately after she forces the issue or his mixed feelings later once he eagerly participates in the relationship. Once I wrote this:

Another way to look at this is the idea of what the characters represent. I’ve mentioned how Ygritte is representative of the FF for Jon, spending time with her is about learning the culture, coming to care for the people, realizing that they have some sympathetic grievances, but if Ygritte is the FF, we might look at Jon as the people of the North, as someone whose boundaries are disregarded, the things he attempts to use to protect himself circumnavigated, and his person violated. (link)

which is an interesting thought paired with how Ygritte views the Wall. Her anger at the Wall's existence makes me think of this passage where she wants to...well, kinda violently possess Jon:

Ygritte had looked so angry he thought she was about to strike him. "All of us," she said. "You too. You're no crow now, Jon Snow. I swore you weren't, so you better not be." She pushed him back against the trunk of a tree and kissed him, full on the lips right there in the midst of the ragged column. Jon heard Grigg the Goat urging her on. Someone else laughed. He kissed her back despite all that. When they finally broke apart, Ygritte was flushed. "You're mine," she whispered. (ASOS, Jon V)

[a-solitary-sea-rover-backup]

Excitement mounts for Cole Brauer (USA) as she will be the second finisher of the 2023-24 Global Solo Challenge in A Coruna, Spain. The young talented American sailor is getting plenty of attention from US media as she’s poised to become the first American female to complete a solo nonstop circumnavigation by the three great capes and becoming the 18th women to ever achieve this goal.

With Forbes, People Magazine, the NY Times, NBC News, and many other media outlets warming up the crowds for her arrival, there are dozens of American citizens who took time off to make a trip to A Coruna and see her much awaited arrival. Her current expected time of arrival, depending on simulations, forecasts and performance, ranges from March 6th afternoon to March 7th midday.

The weather forecast suggests she should try to come in as early as possible due to a low pressure system that will be chasing her and, just as I would have expected, she seems to have put her foot on the gas which will mean she’ll be expected to arrive ahead of the developing depression. She will certainly do all she can to avoid arriving in boat breaking conditions which created the scenic setting for the arrival of the winner, Philippe Delamare on February 24.

Unfortunately, the Global Solo Challenge doesn’t just have moments of triumph and glee; it is a test of determination with huge emotional demands on skippers who must remain in control whether things go well or take a turn for the worse.

[typingatlightspeed]

TF2 Fanfic - Someone Else's Song Chapter 2

A whole week of cracking away at N.G.'s mystery letter yields no leads, so Spy creeps out of his smoking room to put boots to pavement and do some more hands-on espionage. Meanwhile, Engie has some meaningful conversations about his chances.

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Ao3 Link!

Really want a grilled cheese after writing this chapter tho. :/

---------

Spy awoke with a snort, lifting his head from the surface of his desk, a small piece of notepaper stuck to his chin by a patch of dried drool. He swatted it away and tugged the handkerchief from his pocket, using it to wipe his face. He checked his watch. Eight A.M. He sighed. He had fallen asleep sometime before late night had transitioned to early morning, it seemed. His eyes scanned the desk in front of him.

The surface was scattered with papers. Laying at its centre was original letter itself, which had been tested with every solution to reveal invisible ink that Spy could think of. Sitting around were several copies penned by Spy with different notes and marks calling out different letters, words, and turns of phrase, no definitive patterns to be found. Keys for every major cipher in common and uncommon use decorated the periphery. Several examples of the other mercenaries' handwriting were stacked up to be analyzed versus the two letters that N.G. had written, to try and eke out anything from the deeply opaque clue. Spy leaned back in his chair and stretched, having been hunched over for hours. With a weary groan, he took out and lit a cigarette. He puffed a long drag and looked dimly at his fruitless work.

It had been days of this, hammering away at a diamond with a chisel made of tin, no closer to an answer than when he'd picked the letter up in the first place. Staring bleary-eyed at his work wasn't about to spontaneously spawn epiphany. He needed to stretch his legs. And get a coffee. And a shower.

Engineer's work stool had been squeaking near-constantly for the past hour. He wasn't even aware of it, but it was doing it, and constantly. The heel of his boot rested hooked on the bar that circumnavigated the stool's legs, forming a footrest for the man perched atop it, and the toe of that boot was bouncing, making the stool squeal with each jerky movement. Engineer did not notice this. He was too engrossed in the project on his drafting table. Or more accurately, with what was churning away inside his brain while he pretended to be able to get any work done at said drafting table.

The slam of gloved hands on his workbench startled him out of his reverie, and he looked over to see Pyro glowering at him, an oxyacetylene torch clamped to the bench and lit, a small pile of cinders beside it. Engineer reeled back in spite of the good ten feet that separated them. "Somethin' wrong?"

"I'm trying to burn things over here, but bouncing your leg is making that chair sound like we've got upstairs neighbours that just learned what sex was! If you don't stop that racket I'm going to burn down this entire base, starting with myself."

A sheepish smile crossed Engineer's face, and he stilled his leg. "Sorry, Py. I'm just awful wound up."

"I couldn't tell," Pyro shot back, hands settling on his hips. "Spy, huh?"

"It's been a doggone week and he's been playin' it so close to the chest he may as well start coughin' up cards." He shook his head, setting his pencil down and pulling off his hardhat to scratch at his stubbly scalp.

Pyro took a moment to turn off the oxyacetylene torch and flopped onto a rolling stool, gliding over to his friend. "You think he's figured it out?"

"If he has, he ain't said a word about it." Engineer sighed, shaking his head. "Which feels about as good as just bein' shot down, if I'm honest. Maybe I should just be glad he was tactful enough to not just turn me down in front of everyone, or make fun of me for it."

"That's an awful thing to think about the guy you've got a crush on," Pyro chastised.

"It ain't a crush!" Engineer barked. "It's just...interest. Attraction."

"Attraction you expressed by writing him a love letter."

"It was your idea!"

"It's a crush."

"You make me sound like a damn teenager findin' out what love means for the first time."

Pyro tilted his head to the side. "Is that how Spy makes you feel?"

Engineer went silent, considering that for a moment. He sighed. "Fair enough."

A giggle bubbled its way out of Pyro's mask, and he gently clapped his hands in delight. "But here's the thing: Spy, for all of his class and charisma, is pretty forthright. He wouldn't just let things lie. If he wanted to reject you, he'd communicate it somehow , regardless of what level of cruelty he chose to use, right?"

"I s'pose."

"So that means somehow he still hasn't figured the damn thing out a whole week later. I think you covered your tracks too well somehow."

Engineer couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Spy's the kind o' fella who reads so far past the surface he drowns in the details. He'd cut a tree in half to count the rings without even realizin' he's in a damn forest. If I know him half as well as I hope I do, he's probably been burnin' the midnight oil when the answer's plain as day in front o' him."

"Is Spy really that dumb?"

"He ain't dumb at all," Engineer said warmly, a laugh threatening to edge into his voice, "he's too smart's the problem.

*

"I tell you this," Heavy said, setting down his bottle of oil and picking up a rag. "After you use mayonnaise, you will not use butter again. It is life-changer."

Sniper frowned, shaking his head. "I dunno, mate. Mayo for a grilled cheese?"

"I did not believe at first either. But it brown more even, make flavour more...," the giant searched for the right word, "rich? I think is how to say?"

"Yeh," Sniper confirmed with a nod, finishing laying out the pieces of his rifle on the worktable of the armory. "Right, next time you're fixin' one, throw one on for me. I'll try it. If I like it, I'll teach you my special grilled cheese recipe."

"Special grilled cheese?" Heavy asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"The secret is ham, apples, and a runny fried egg," Sniper said with a conspiratorial grin. "But you gotta poach the apples in cinnamon and sugar first, so it's almost like applesauce or pie fillin' without the corn starch."

"Is sandvich really still grilled cheese at this point?"

"Dunno, but what I can tell you is that it's delicious."

"Will keep this in mind," Heavy agreed with a nod. If making Sniper a normal sandwich got Sniper to make him a fancy sandwich, he wasn't about to turn it down. Especially if ham was involved.

Spy suppressed a sigh. He stood, cloaked, leaning against the door to the armory as his teammates chatted sporadically as they maintenanced their guns. Everyone made time to clean and work on their weapons at some point every few days, though Heavy was a fixture, pampering his darling Sascha as a daily ritual and making him easy to find for anyone seeking him out. It was one of the rare times one could catch the giant for a casual conversation.

Apparently this time, Sniper had seen fit to use his time with Heavy to talk about food. It was one of the universal languages, Spy supposed.

It didn't help him at all in his effort to eavesdrop on the team for clues, though. At least, not until...

Sniper looked back over his shoulder, and Spy froze, invisible and silent and far enough away that any lingering scent of smoke on him wouldn't be detected. "So, you think Spy's cracked the code yet?"

Heavy chuckled. "Don't know. There are many common ciphers used. He has lot of work to do to eliminate them all."

"Probably spent the whole week neck-deep in cryptography for nothin'."

Heavy shook his head. "It is funny. Spy is too smart to be so stupid sometimes."

Spy frowned at the insult, trying not to let it bother him too much. Heavy didn't know enough English to speak delicately.

"Look how his kid turned out. Apple don't fall too far from the tree."

"You are mean to Scout. Thought you are Scout's friend."

Sniper shrugged with a laugh. "Mate, if anyone's qualified to rib the little gremlin it's 'is mates. I'd expect no less from 'im in turn."

Heavy shook his head, realizing that perhaps he'd spent so long only socializing with his family that the urge to banter had grown rusty. Certainly, he remembered teasing his friends in college mercilessly, and laughing when they did the same in kind. "This is fair."

"Either way, I hope all of this gets figured out soon, else N.G.'s gonna 'ave a heart attack from waitin' on tenterhooks." Sniper took up the barrel of his rifle in one hand. "Pass that brush?"

Heavy handed his teammate a brush with a nod and a grunt, and silence fell as they worked.

Spy lingered a little longer, but soon slunk away with a silent sigh. It seemed like Heavy and Sniper had an idea of who this mysterious N.G. was, that it was neither of them, and from the way they spoke, it was an obvious thing to them. He didn't know whether he should be insulted or not, stymied in the search as he was. The way they talked, it was clear that he was looking too hard , which only frustrated him more. Had he wasted all of his time on a line of thought that lead nowhere?

Fine.

If cryptography would get him nowhere, he would do things the old-fashioned way: pure surveillance. Already, skulking him in the shadows had gotten him that much, a half-step closer and Sniper crossed off the list, so perhaps it was time for a bit of the human touch.

*

Coffee. Medic needed coffee. Those chupacrabra kidneys weren't going to be used to filter irradiated echidna blood on their own, and Medic just knew his hands weren't going to be steady enough for the suture work he'd need to do after an all-nighter unless he had at least a little more caffiene to keep him going. Once he had the data he needed he could finally crash out and sleep. Just a little longer.

With a yawn, he pushed open the door to mess, a little surprised to find Spy there, leaning against the counter on which the communal industrial-sized coffee maker sat, an overlarge mug in his hand. He looked almost as tired as Medic felt, and judging by the dark circles under his eyes, he, too, had been neglecting sleep in the pursuit of knowledge. Medic smiled fondly and waved as he approached.

"Spy! It is nice to see you outside of the battlefield for the first time this week," he teased, snagging a mug and dumping an unconscionable amount of sugar into it before filling it with coffee. "You've spent so much of your liberty time working in your office, I was worried you'd turned into me!" He tittered, then added milk enough that the beverage began to match his skin tone, and snatched a spoon to stir it with.

Spy tried and failed to not make a face as he watched Medic mangle his coffee. "It is a smoking room, but you're not incorrect. I have been working, though the way I currently feel, I can no longer say it is tirelessly."

Medic grinned at that, a soft, "hoo," of a laugh puffing out of him. "So how does the search for your secret admirer go?"

"Secret admirer; you make it sound like we're children."

"You received a love note from someone with a crush on you."

Spy pouted in reply.

Medic tittered. "It's sweet, really. Romance is childish, isn't it? At it's root?"

"Your idea of romance is very different from mine, then."

"Think about it: Naked emotion making your heart race, your palms sweat, your brain positively swim with oxytocin, manifesting as giddy delight? Your body's reaction is as brazen and free of guile as children speaking plainly, 'I like you,' wouldn't you say?"

Spy eyed Medic for a long moment, waiting for some unhinged or dismissive follow-up. When none came, he shrugged a shoulder. "Fair enough, I suppose." He sipped his coffee, sneaking a sidelong glance at his companion, a bit disarmed by the fanciful soft side he had revealed.

Was he wrong in discounting Medic so swiftly? What if it was him? Would it be so bad, to be loved by a man who could heal your every wound, every ailment, make you stronger, faster, better, more healthy and hale than nature could ever offer of its own accord?

In sickness and in health indeed.

But Medic was married to science. It was his husband, his work his wife. His greatest passion could never be devoted to a mere man, no matter how extraordinary. A lover would have to be satisfied always being the runner-up in Medic's heart and life.

Spy couldn't imagine being satisfied with that. Even he had tried to put his work aside once, his love of a woman far stronger than the love of his life's calling. Sadly, that calling was not about to be so quickly turned aside.

But he couldn't blame Medic, either. Brilliance often brought with it a certain single-mindedness. Medic and his experiments. Heavy and his guns. Only Engineer seemed able to pull himself away from his hyperfocus, powerful and self-destructive as it was, still taking time for playing guitar and cookouts and nights sitting under the stars, enjoying the quiet beauty of nature when he thought the rest of the team had gone to bed and he'd been left alone to his own devices, unaware that Spy would often rest against the wall beside the door to the porch, cloaked and sharing in the moment of peace. Each man contained multitudes, but only Engineer could pull himself away from his work with enough regularity to place that fact on display. And rustic though he may be, Spy couldn't deny that there was a bucolic charm to his non-work interests.

Spy looked back to Medic, who was smiling at him over the rim of his mug. He realized that he'd been caught spacing out for a moment as his brain churned away. Medic tittered as their eyes met.

"I almost forgot: there is also the telltale rush of blood to the capillaries of the face, causing erubescene," he teased, "or blushing , as you might know it." He gestured gently to Spy, who realized to his own dismay that his cheeks had grown hot as his mind had drifted.

Spy cleared his throat, straightening his posture like it would hide the pink peeking above his mask from the taller man. "Yes, well, thank you, Docteur. But I should be getting back to it. Mysteries do not solve themselves."

Medic took another sip to contain his giggles. "Of course! Good luck, Spy, and I hope the real thing turns out as lovely as your fantasies!"

Spy grumbled out a vague thanks as he set down his empty mug and slunk out of the room in a small huff.

N.G. definitely wasn't Medic. He got far more enjoyment out of needling him, both literally and metaphorically, than any romance would offer.

*

Scout sat back from his drawing, pen tapping against his lip as he regarded the shape of the car he was sketching out. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't place what. Then again, he also wasn't used to drawing at a forty-five degree angle. "Draftin' tables are weird," he said, looking past said drafting table to where Engineer was seated on a rolling shop stool, hunched behind a dispenser, its wires spilling out as he went at something inside with a pair of pliers.

"Takes some gettin' used to, I'll admit," Engineer replied absently.

"Yeah."

Silence fell for a long moment as Scout scratched down a few more lines onto his notebook. "So, you bend Spy over the workbench yet?"

Engineer dropped his pliers, sputtering in surprise, his face going red in an instant. "What the hell is wrong with you askin' somethin' like that?"

"Seriously? No? Don't tell me 'e still ain't figured it out! Shit, man, you might as well just tell 'im at this point, if 'e's too dumb to pick up on it after a whole-ass week."

"He ain't dumb."

"Yeah okay," Scout snorted.

"It also ain't your business."

"Why not? Man, if two 'a my coworkers're gonna be all kissyface an' shit all the time an' bangin' in the off hours in the base where we all live which ain't got soundproofin' , that's gonna turn into my business at some point. What if Spy's a screamer? Especially with what you're packin'!"

"...what I'm packin?" "We all shower together; ain't nobody not noticed you swing pipe, Engie."

"You little pecker checker."

"I was scopin' out the competition."

"Competition for what?"

"I dunno; not Spy though, I'll tell you that. He's your problem. Least, he will be once you just go nut up an' tell 'im."

Engineer set down his pliers and stared hard at Scout. "Like how you told Miss Paulin'?"

Scout stammered a bit before crossing his arms across his chest. "This ain't about me."

"First time you've ever said that about anythin'," Engineer shot with a smirk.

"Look, I don't get why you're into 'im, but you are. A guy don't write another guy a freakin' love letter if 'e ain't down bad for 'im."

"The letter was Pyro's idea. Said 'e was sick of watchin' me pinin' away in silence. And now I'm in this mess."

Scout smiled a little at that. It explained a lot. A love letter didn't really seem Engineer's style, which probably wasn't helping Spy solve things. "What, were you just never gonna say nothin'?"

"Spy's a refined fella. He wouldn't go for a country boy like me if I just up and said somethin' to 'im."

"You kiddin' me? You've got more PhDs than there are guys on base! You can play guitar! Chicks dig smart artsy guys."

"Scout, Spy's a man."

"Do guys who like guys dig smart, artsy guys?" Scout asked, rolling his hand like he was waiting for Engineer to catch up with him.

Engineer stared for a long moment, unable to argue. "S'pose so."

"See? Look just 'cause you're all yee-haw an' axle grease don't mean that ain't what 'e's into, Eng. Like yeah, I bet he'd totally wanna bang a dude just like 'imself, but maybe that ain't all, yeah? Maybe he likes a guy who's stronger an' more manly than 'im, yanno? Hold 'im in 'is big arms, make 'im feel safe..."

Engineer lifted an eyebrow.

"I mean girls like that, so maybe guys who like guys do?" Scout recovered, gesturing broadly with his arms.

"Maybe they do," Engineer huffed out with a laugh. Scout was right. It was entirely possible that Spy would be interested in what he had to offer. He was aloof, but that didn't mean he didn't find anything attractive in any of them The man maintained a standoffish facade with the whole team, buts it was his own brand of professionalism, likely to make up for what an immature little shit he could be on the field when he thought nobody was looking.

Engineer was looking, and what he saw made him laugh. It was endearing, really, to see the cool, aloof cat of a man doing voices and chucking insults the same as the rest of them. He wasn't really above it all, in spite of how he tried to play.

"Look, I ain't got a dog in the race, Eng. So I can tell ya square: anyone with eyes can see you're a catch, man. You're built, you're handy, you play guitar an' sing an' know how to cook. Plus, you're rich. Like crazy rich. Like not just built yourself up rich but Daddy's Money rich on top 'a that. Fuck around money rich. If you were into girls they'd be tearin' each other's hair out tryin' to get to you! An' I bet Spy sees that too. Guy sees everythin', yanno?"

Engineer chuckled at that. Scout wasn't exactly great at navigating it, but the spirit was there, and he appreciated being hyped up a bit. "Thank ya kindly," he said demurely, laying a hand over his heart. "But him seein' everythin's why I ain't piped up yet. I want 'im to figure it out, act on 'is own initiative. Ain't the same if I confront 'im with it, feels like. Plus, the man loves his ego stroked. Bein' able to solve the puzzle'll go toward that, I reckon."

"I don't get it. Figured with guys you could just circumvent all that pussy-footin' around shit. 'Hey, gorgeous. We both got dicks; wanna do it?'"

"And that's why you ain't had a date of any gender long as I known you."

"Man, I ain't had a date 'cause we're stuck livin' in a base in the middle 'a fuckall nowhere!" Scout barked, indignant. His expression turned to a pout as the only reply he received was Engineer's signature wheezy chuckle.

*

"We're bloody terrible at this game," Demoman huffed, watching his horseshoe land a full foot away from the stake.

"You have no depth perception, of course you're terrible!" Soldier barked, lining up his shot. He let his horseshoe fly, only for it to overshoot the stake by at least two feet. "Too much mustard on that one."

"And ye can barely see out from under the brim o' that helmet," Demoman huffed. "I'll have ye ken me aim's close enough. Can hit a runnin' Scout with a pipe at twenty paces nae danger!"

"I thought close enough was supposed to work for horseshoes and hand grenades! You're one for two, maggot!" "Shut it!" Demoman's lip curled up into a snarl as he lined up his next shot. He swung his arm and released the horseshoe, which fell limply to the dirt just barely inside of the pit, two and a half feet from the stake. "Crud!"

Soldier hacked out a laugh, doubling over to brace himself on his thighs to keep standing.

Demoman stood there pouting at him, arms crossed over his chest. 'I'm too sober's the problem. Nae had a drink in almost an hour. The double vision's the trick, ye ken."

Spy watched from the porch, posted against one of the supports holding up its bockety, sun-rotted roof. He was getting fidgety from spending a while without cigarettes, trying not to get made by scent, but he kept his shaking hands hidden in the pockets of his trousers. The last thing he wanted was to jitter so much that the motion of his cloak could be seen.

As expected, there wasn't much to eavesdrop on with Demoman and Soldier, the two of them spending most of their words to roast one another with the sort of viciousness only close friendship could elicit. It did warm Spy's heart a bit, in spite of it all. At least that whole business with the BLU Soldier hadn't dulled this friendship or made things awkward. Though he suspected neither man had the emotional intelligence to realize why it could get weird. Ignorance may truly be bliss after all.

Either way, while it was certainly entertaining to watch, it wasn't really getting him anywhere. He suspected as much, but due diligence made it just seem right to see if two of the most loose-lipped men on the team would let anything slip. Given Demoman's known interest in men, it could make him more prone to gossiping about the base's newest potential homosexual romance.

Assuming Spy was right and he hadn't written the letter himself.

With a sigh, Spy pushed off of the support, deciding to cut his losses and go try to see if he could talk Pyro in enough circles to spill something. The arsonist clearly knew something, or at least liked the drama enough to be working on figuring it out as well. Either way, it was likely to be more fruitful than watching the most tragic lawn game he'd ever witnessed.

A creak sounded from the old, dry-rotted wood. Then the roof groaned . Spy's head snapped back to look up a moment before a rotten chunk of the structure fell. He leapt, rolling across the concrete paddock of the porch, and narrowly missed the rain of wood and shingles as the whole corner of the roof gave way and collapsed with a clatter and crunch. His cloak sputtered and dropped, leaving him on one hand and his knees, staring wide-eyed at the wreckage.

"Oi! Spy! Ye alright?" Demoman called, jogging over.

"Y-yes, thank you," Spy replied, climbing to his feet and dusting off his trousers.

"Knew that thing's days were numbered, but I didnae realize just how close tae the end it was," the bomber mused, looking over the damage.

"Why didn't Engie fix it?" Soldier asked, ambling over, utterly calm.

"'Cause he fixes everythin' else on this bloody base, and he cannae be everywhere all the time," Demoman reasoned, a bit shamefully.

"He's reliable and capable, but even he is but one man," Spy mused, taking out a cigarette and lighting it with relief. If his hands weren't already shaking, they definitely would be now.

"We need two of him," Soldier concluded, slapping his fist down into his open palm.

"How're ye gonnae do that?" Demoman replied with a smirk, egging Soldier on.

"He could make a clone of himself! I bet he could reprogram Respawn to do it!" Soldier grinned broadly, proud of his idea.

"Aye, that's definitely how that works." Demoman rested his hands on his hips and had a chuckle. "So Spy, ye out here eavesdroppin', or was that," he gestured to the wreckage that was the corner of the porch, "just a wee coincidence."

Spy sighed. Demoman was too canny for his own good sometimes. "If you're accusing me of dropping eaves, I assure you, that ," he, too, gestured to the destroyed porch roof, "was not my intention."

Demoman whooped out a laugh at that. "Ye should banter more, Spy. Ye got the touch!"

A soft, self-satisfied chuckle left Spy, and he took another long drag. "I've spent the majority of my liberty this week slaving away at that love letter. Some fresh air would do me good. At least, I thought so, until the porch tried to crush me."

"Ach, what's a bit o' mortal danger? It's good for the blood," Demoman dismissed with a laugh. He hopped up on the edge of the porch next to where Spy stood and patted the concrete paddock, inviting him to sit. Soldier climbed up on his other side, kicking his legs in the air.

With a moment's consideration, Spy shrugged and settled in beside Demoman, half-facing him with one leg up on the porch, the other hanging. "I assume you'd like to chat."

"Aye, aye. Surprised you're of a mind."

"Like I said, I've spent the entire week with no human interaction outside of combat, slamming my head against a puzzle." Spy took a drag and exhaled, looking off to the side. "Don't get used to this."

That made Demoman snort. Spy was ridiculous, preening like a cat and pretending to be above it all. It would be infuriating if it weren't so transparent. "Sure, aye, nae danger."

"So, have you figured out who it is, yet?" Soldier asked.

Spy sighed, thinking it obvious. If he had, why would he be here, sneaking around and almost dying to faulty construction? "No, I have not."

Soldier replied with a soft, "Hm."

"Dinnae let it get ye down," Demoman offered, clapping Spy on the shoulder then swiftly removing his hand after clocking the look of utter disdain that it elicited. "Honestly? A whole week o' radio silence after a note with barely a hint? It's strange, it is."

"Perhaps, but when presented with a mystery like this, what am I to do?"

"I ken ye've nae conclusion, but any theories?"

Spy took a long drag. "A few. Some more attractive than others."

Demoman chuckled at that. Fair enough. "Which ones're more attractive?"

"Fishing for compliments?" Spy teased with a smirk.

"If I'm still in competition I'd be more concerned about yer qualifications for wearin' that balaclava, mate. Ye ken me style, and sneakin' love notes isnae it."

"Didn't you and the BLU Soldier get together at a gun show?" Soldier asked.

"It's where we met and struck up a friendship," Demoman explained. "Wasn't 'til after we hit the bars, got good 'n liquored up, fought the cops, and laid low at a motel outside town that I kissed him. Was ready tae write it off as adrenaline until he kissed me back, and started slidin' his hand down me trews." He sighed fondly, as painful as the nostalgia was.

"Wait, you fucked on the first date?" Soldier asked.

"Did we have time tae consider there'd be another one?" Demoman reasoned. "I'm nae some blushin' flower, mate. I've got a braw lad askin' me tae blow his back out, I aim tae do it."

"You can't aim for shit," Soldier snorted, then fell into laughs as Demoman pushed him off the porch.

"Yes, well, I suppose the speed at which you move isn't quite compatible with writing notes," Spy said, rolling his eyes and trying to expel the mental image of Demoman fucking the BLU Soldier from his mind, even if it did answer the idle curiousity he had as to which of the bombastic, competitive men had been the bottom.

"Aye, aye, but still's tae the point: any o' those theoretical authors actually have a chance, mate? I imagine yer nae gonnae throw yerself at a lad just 'cause he's wrote ye a love note. So what's the best case scenario? Who'd actually have a shot? Who d'ye hope it is?"

Spy sat with that question for a long moment, taking a thoughtful drag of his cigarette. The pause was so pregnant Demoman fancied its water was about to break.

He hadn't really considered that. Not in earnest. Sure, he thought about the pros and cons of who it might be, whether it was preferable. But what would he really do once he discovered the answer? And what if it was an answer he didn't like? What if it was an answer he did? What was an answer he did? Who was he kidding? He hadn't gathered the thoughts in a cohesive manner, but in his gut, he already knew who he wanted it to be. His own wandering mind had taught him as much.

"Engineer," Spy sighed, looking away so as not to meet Demoman's eye. Out of the corner of his own vision, he caught a smile crossing the bomber's lips anyway.

"Good, you can get him to fix the porch," Soldier announced.

"Engie, aye?" Demoman said appraisingly, giving a little nod. "Ye've good taste, lad. Broad, braw bloke like that? Muscles for days and a bit soft? That voice? "

"Do I have competition?" Spy teased with a soft laugh, grateful that he hadn't been teased immediately for a rare moment of candidness.

"Ach, nae. I'd nae dare stand in yer way."

"In my way?" Spy asked, eyebrow lifted.

"Look, lad. It's clear ye want him tae be the answer. Which means yer sweet on him. Which means nae matter who this secret admirer o' yours is, what does matter is ye've yer eye on someone already. The matter's been breached, in so many words. Why nae just make a move?"

"And if he's not the author?"

"Then yer nae interested in the author anyway," Demoman reasoned. "Right?"

Spy nodded slowly, admitting it to himself. Any other candidate just didn't capture him the same way, didn't set his heart to racing and his mind to distraction like thoughts of the short Texan with his warm voice and strong hands and eleven hard-science PhDs. "Which leaves the question of whether Engineer would be interested," Spy pointed out, gesturing vaguely with his cigarette.

"You will not know the answer to that if you do not ask," Soldier said plainly. "If he did write it, then he is interested. If he did not, you can not know if he is interested unless you ask."

"Hate tae say it, but the lad's right," Demoman agreed, jerking a thumb at Soldier. "And say he's nae the author, and someone else's feelings get hurt: lad wrote ye a note so opaque even you o' all people couldn't crack it, and never followed up, dropped any other breadcrumbs, just sat back and let it lie. Can he really blame ye for followin' yer heart?"

"He snoozed, he lost!"

"Aye, exactly!"

Spy chewed on that thought for a moment and took another long drag to finish his cigarette, stubbing it out on the concrete porch as he exhaled. "Fair enough, I suppose."

"I ken the direct approach isnae yer wheelhouse, but sometimes, the only way out is through!"

"Yeah, go get 'im, Frenchie!"

Spy snorted out a soft laugh and shook his head. This was where he was getting his romantic advice? Still, he supposed, they weren't wrong.