#all this coming from people who would wax poetic about how bad they feel for billy and stu from scream

[alicentlesbian]

can't make one post being like "omg helena is my baby she's so sad i love her 🥺" without all the hannibal lestat saw franchise toxic yaoi fans showing up to give you a lecture on morality and how actually helena is TOO evil to like so you shouldn't ever sympathize with her and if you go one second without mentioning the severity of her crimes you're a bad person and going to hell

[ofswordsandpens]

lowkey it’s a relief to know someone else who didn’t enjoy sunrise on the reaping because i really (sadly) disliked it but everytime i check the sotr tag it’s nothing but praise. it’s not entirely unwarranted because the general ideas and themes of this book ARE good they’re just… not done with the finesse and skill i’ve come to expect from suzanne collins.

but if you want to, i’d love to hear more of your thoughts on the book and its problems, especially re: haymitch’s characterization and the rebel subplot.

I think the crux of the issue of SOTR for me is that while it is a very interesting story with powerful concepts and messaging and themes, it doesn't quite feel like it was supposed to be Haymitch's story.

It feels a little too at odds at times from what we learn of Haymitch when Katniss and Peeta watch his games in Catching Fire. And before anyone tells me "that's the point!" or "you're falling for Capitol propaganda! We all fell for Capitol propaganda!!" the issue here is that no, I don't think we did, because when SC wrote about Haymitch's games in Catching Fire, I doubt she was doing it in mind of a Haymitch prequel more than a decade down the line that would recontextualize the entire story. I think what she wrote in Catching Fire in 2009 about Haymitch's games is exactly what it was supposed to be.

Then I think present day SC sat down to write sotr and decided she wanted to write a story about the long-standing power of propaganda. That rebellions are long burning and slow building and people will try and fail and try again. And so she adapted Haymitch's story to fit those themes.

And that's fine! It's fine that it's a bit of a retcon. A retcon doesn't have to be inherently bad and I did find SOTR entertaining overall but like I said, I don't think it fits so cleanly with the rest of the trilogy as others seem to think it does.

For instance, taking these scenes from Catching Fire:

Given what know now from SOTR... well Katniss and Peeta's understandings and takeaways aren't quite right anymore, are they? "But what she doesn't know, and what he does, is that the ax will return." The implication here being that Haymitch planned that moment. But actually Katniss, that's wrong! Haymitch wasn't intentionally leading Silka to the cliff to use the forcefield against her, that was all a complete accident. And it's even worse because Katniss follows it up with: "I think I finally know who Haymitch is. And I'm beginning to know who I am." because now this is a scene where she's actually misreading Haymitch to a degree. Sure, her final conclusion is still ultimately correct: She and Haymitch are both people who have caused the Capitol trouble. And she's right in more ways now than she can know but she's also wrong about Haymitch in a significant way as well. (And it sucks because I've seen so many takes now joking about how Katniss is just sooooo bad at reading people but guys I think she was spot on here until Haymitch's story was altered lmao)

And then, just in a general sense, I think the pacing of SOTR is odd at times. I also think it occasionally suffers from a telling instead of showing, being a bit more heavy-handed in its messaging where the original trilogy wasn't. (Like when Haymitch abruptly called Maysilee his sister, just to make sure that we the readers understood their dynamic).

I also struggled to get into Haymitch's and Lenore Dove's romance because despite him waxing poetic about her every page, we only had a single chapter to establish their relationship and her character before they spend the rest of the book apart until the very end. And its a struggle for me because her presence takes up so much of the story and his thoughts, to a degree that I almost felt I wasn't reading about Haymitch anymore at times. On the flip side, I felt like his brother and mother didn't take up nearly enough of his headspace. Like Sid gets pretty much a single line in the epilogue in a sea of Lenore Dove paragraphs.

As for Haymitch's characterization... this is where we get far more into a personal preference territory, but I won't lie, I was and still am far more partial to a "resourceful Haymitch exploring the arena out of his own volition and outsmarting the gamemakers through his own ingenuity" instead of a "resourceful Haymitch acting out a rebel plan from others". I also am more interested in a Haymitch that lead Silka to the cliff to goad her into essentially killing herself than a Haymitch that ended up there seemingly just to escape her or buy time. And sure Haymitch was still intelligent in SOTR, but too often it felt like he was no longer the driving force in his own story. (which very well might have been the point? but if it was, then the execution of it didn't do much for me).

As for the rebel subplot: conceptually I thought it was interesting... but again, I thought the execution of it left a lot to be desired as it completely lost me the moment Haymitch wasn't insta-killed after blowing the water system. And I know we're given in-universe reasons for why he wasn't killed, but I simply can't buy into it. There were still plenty of tributes left, so it's not like the game makers and Snow had to keep him around. I don't think it would have mattered how popular Haymitch was at that point to the viewers. Haymitch also hadn't done anything yet that couldn't have been edited out so it's not like he had to be kept around by Snow and made into an example for other victors. And I think Haymitch had "suffered" enough in the games at that point for Snow to take him out with mutts. (ALSO - I couldn't help but feel that this rebel plot might have been better suited to an Ampert-centered story? Since Ampert seems to be driving so much of the crucial, behind the scenes work that is.)

But this is grossly long so to wrap this up: In my ideal world, this prequel would have gone one of two ways.

(1) A prequel with the themes and messaging and storylines of SOTR but centered on a different character (Ampert? A career, even? This could be an entirely different year of games with no Haymitch)

(2) A Haymitch prequel, but his games are way more in-line with what we were presented with in Catching Fire (still with a degree of propaganda), no beetee-rebel subplot, and we would've spent more time before the games in district 12, as well as after the games tracking his downward spiral.

[poptod]

hello again! i’m wondering what you know about courting in ancient egypt? (and also if you’re feeling up to it/ taking requests, i’d love to hear about ancient egyptian courting with akh :) either in the modern age or back in his time)

Hello! You’ve summoned within me my ability to do headcanons. but they will be preceded by a few little tidbits about history.

relationships and courting in ancient Egypt were rather subtle than overt. meaning that the concept of marriage didn’t really exist. there was no ceremony. it was more of a thing that you simply moved into a house together and that was that. this is not to say that there was no concept of union—by the way cheaters were treated we can see there was certainly emphasis placed on loyalty to your wife/husband, and monogamy was for the most part paramount. generally it is only in the case of the Pharaoh that anything close to a harem would come about. anyway, there were no exact rituals, but there was a huge deal of romance. this is evident from the love poems written, mostly surviving from the New Kingdom.

As for Ahkmenrah, our dear royal boy:

Ahkmenrah does not expect to become King. Because of this, he has no expectations to grow a harem or sire an heir for the good of his country. Having children is important—they carry on your legacy—but in terms of the stability of the country, having an heir does not rest on Ahkmen’s shoulders.

Thus when looking for a partner, he is looking for love. His parents may set him up with a hundred different suitors but they can’t resist his doe eyes when he says he just doesn’t want to marry them.

When he meets someone he does want to court, he is rather straightforwardly in love about it. He doesn’t mind getting hurt, and he’s perceptive about who people are, so he usually doesn’t mistake a bad person for being good.

He befriends first. Friendship is the most important part of a romantic relationship.

He’s very touchy and compliments you a lot; he likes to dig in and get you flustered before pulling back. It’s a huge tease.

He uses everything at his disposal to pamper you in the way he sees fit; i.e, he doesn’t exactly buy you expensive jewelry or clothing, but he makes it so you have a lot of time off from your job, and showers you in gifts of fresh flowers (plucked by his own hand) and tiger rolls hot from the ovens.

Later on he writes poetry, not that you can likely read it. Literacy was not widespread in ancient Egypt. But he will recite the verses and leave you guessing as to who it’s about.

As mentioned earlier about gifts, he’s not fond of using his wealth to spoil you. To him, that’s too easy. What means more is something from the heart. So he has no qualms about using his powerful position to make your life easier; and of gifts, he makes crowns of reeds and lotuses while drifting on reed skiffs with you, and silently places them atop your head.

Something about Ahk is that he is very loving to everyone he considers dear to him. His friends receive a good deal of this treatment as well, so it may be difficult to tell when Ahk is trying to court someone versus when he is trying to display friendship.

The big differences are time and art. Time being that he will spend virtually all his time with you, taking you along on each of his adventures, showing up unannounced at your house late at night—even if he wants to spend time with a different friend, he will take you with him. Art being that, while he may give or make gifts for all his friends, he will only write for you. So the artistry of his mind is reserved for his beloved.

How he eventually expresses and confesses his love is dependent on your personality and your relationship.

But even after confessing and devoting himself to you, the poetry never stops. Sometimes he will wax poetic at random just to see you blush.

And of course, he will always bring you flowers to weave into your hair. He’s not an excellent singer, but he often murmurs lullabies as he does so.

In the end he courts with love, respect, devotion, and loyalty. All the most important traits taught to him by his inner spirit.

[2009editingtips]

This is me begging you to wax poetic about Phil's hair

Phil's hair journey is something that can actually be so personal to me specifically.

So, we start with shaggy black emo hair Phil, where he's at university and basically out in the ways that matter to him (slutting it up on main, an icon). And he's got this plan for his life, right? He's going to school; he's got a semblance of an idea for the future. But he's a baby adult at best. And then he starts doing this YouTube thing. He puts all his weird/creative/extraness that had been looked down on for years out for the world to see. And people like it. They like him. They like him so much they give him a platform and job offers and new dreams to realize.

And that's actually terrifying because he has so much to lose now.

Going from the mostly carefree feeling of being himself, accepting himself, despite the culture, to feeling like the caveat to all his dreams coming true is that he has to take that joy, that self-love that took SO LONG to find, and keep it hidden. Not only that, he has to lie to everyone. All the time.

So then there's short black fringe Phil, who's in the closet, mentions his attraction to girls where he can, trying to cover his internet tracks. But people are persistent; boundaries aren't something he knows how to set yet. His past is thrown in his face every other moment, so he doubles down. Sticks with his branding of the non-cursing, family-friendly, boy-next-door type. It isn't untrue so much as it's put on. He loses some of his spark in those years. Not enough rest and looking over his shoulder at every moment will do that to someone.

Then II Phil with the black quiff...

I have the most thoughts about this era, so forgive me for yapping.

II, which was meant to be the end of "Dan and Phil," not that the audience knew. But Phil did. And he changed his hair. Let his past branding slip just a bit, preparing the audience in a way.

And he's talked in the past about how he was scared to change his hair because he genuinely thought people would leave. Because up until then, the audience he'd curated, however extensive in number, was still this intangible, fickle beast he'd not learned to tame.

But that deep-rooted fear persisted. The fear that the love of your audience is so fickle that they would leave because you changed your hair... but it wasn't about the hair, not really. It was the fear that they don’t actually like you or your content and they only like that you represented their childhood or their awkward teen years. So, if you grow up and change, then they have to. And they don’t want to hear that.

So, you put off being yourself (in more ways than one) for the comfort of others. Because if you truly aren’t liked, you can at least pretend for a bit longer. You can keep your hair the same.

And then he comes out, and it's all out in the open.

And then Phil is publicly alone for a bit. After a decade he's just... amazingphil again. "Babysitting the kids until Dan comes back," undermining his content like it wasn't instrumental in getting countless people through the pandemic.

Like his joy, however put upon it may have been, wasn't infectious.

Then we hit 2023 with the messy brown fringe, and it's almost right. It's nearly there. Phil has cultivated his audience, weeded out the bad seeds, and knows more now. But he's still... hesitant. Soft around the edges.

And then dapg is back, and it's... it's silly and light, and it feels like 2009 again but easier, more honest.

Stealing this quote from @silaswhatever here: "and now he's blond messy fringe Phil, and this feels like an almost final evolution of Phil - a reclamation of a mistake he made in his teens, a change to commemorate both 15 years of being a dork on the internet with his soulmate and to highlight the beginning of a "new era" for them. And now he gets to be the person beyond the mask of "AmazingPhil", he gets to be Phil Lester, a messy, slightly mean, but very funny guy who loves the person he's been with for fifteen years and we all love him for it."

Anyway, I am normal about him.

[bitchqueenofthebitchsquad]

Another problem I had with season 2 is the weird way that hextech is treated. The hexcore is treated like it's semi sentient and malicious, no explanation for why that is, but even regular degular Hextech is treated as uniquely capable of great evil. We're given a whole episode that waxes poetic about how much better everyone would be if hextech was never invented but no explanation for why that is.

As others have pointed out, the problems between Piltover and Zaun are the problems inherent to all stratified societies, particularly ones that appear to be in the midst of an industrial revolution. The under city predates Hextech by a long shot. So why are we being shown this episode about how much better everything would be sans these tools? It just has a luddite vibe to it. I think some people mistakenly identify technology as the reason oppression exists. While some tech can exacerbate oppression, the same technology can often do the opposite. I think season 1 was still a little clumsy in places, but it did a better job of pointing out that the technology is a neutral thing. It's the system that allows greedy and ultra powerful but unqualified weirdos to make all the decisions that's a problem.

I feel like the writers who left over the pandemy took their talent with them when they bounced. I can't know this but I get the sense that the remaining writers did little to no research but were enamored with portrayals of class conflict they'd seen in other media. Not to bring up simulacra but, you know, that's what it was giving. It was derivative.

Getting back to the hexcore, I liked the aesthetic of it, particularly how it transformed Viktors body but thematically I think it was incoherent, especially when put in the context of the rest of the show. Again I like spooky purple energy with evil vibes, very witchy, but how does it help progress the narrative? It seemed to me that it was a totally derivative element. Because sometimes magic is portrayed as spooky and seductive they decided to have this cool object that was spooky and seductive. Maybe someone in the writers room was going somewhere with this but if they were I don't think the execution was successful. It doesn't have anything to do with the stronger themes of the show, it distracts from them, and then becomes a problem because they spent so much time foreshadowing it so there's no way to gracefully retcon it.

It's made even more awkward when Viktor uses his new spooky powers to help disabled people who have nowhere else to turn. Before Jayce shoots Viktor in the chest we don't actually see Viktor doing anything malicious with his magic. He's essentially just set up a rehab and is quietly minding his business. The empire and state come to him and give him grief so wouldn't the reasonable conclusion be that actually Hextech is just a tool no matter how purple and swirly it is and that militaries and cops get in the way of positive social change because they seek to abuse and control technology used to help people? But then the show goes on to make Viktor the ultimate villain and it's very hard to parse what the message is other than to avoid the very specific scenarios that happened in the show.

It's almost like they forgot the show was for an audience, forgot about the themes, and just started advertising for the next league project, forgetting to finish what they were actually making. I also think they fell victim to too big of an ending, not everything has to be world ending or contain multiverses. Idk very sloppy but, even though he's essentially an entirely new character, I loved blonde highlights Viktor.

Edit: not "no explanation" it's the blood that made it evil but again this is tropey and leaning towards derivative again. We wouldn't assume that a technology that interacts with blood is bad/evil if we hadn't all already seen a million other works that do this and have built the negative associations for us.

[sophsicle]

Soph I love you but Taylor Swift does not “make herself the victim” there’s so much valid shit that has happened to her for us to feel that way about her, which most of her fans honestly don’t even see her as - granted there as some obnoxious ones but that goes for all fandoms.

Like for example of the experiences I was talking about.

- being sexually assaulted and then being called “greedy” for suing the guy.

- being painted as a “snake” because she didn’t react well to someone writing a misogynistic song about it. Which I feel like is a valid reaction as a woman in entertainment.

- being groomed at 19 by a 30+ something year old.

- getting called a snake worldwide for a narrative that 2 people - who were more famous than her at the time invented.

- being bodyshamed constantly when she had an eating disorder

Yes she’s privileged and has always been, coming from money and having fame, but she does not portray herself as the “victim” and the fact that people think she does just for standing up for herself makes me sad, not because of her but because being a woman myself it just paints the picture that women’s pain or experiences will always be brushed under the rug because we’re classified as “dramatic” and “we should take it with more grace” “be thankful about the good things” like??

I understand that you don’t like her but that assessment just seems wrong.

like i just. you realize you're proving my point right? like this - not just this message, but all of the ones i've gotten where people are waxing poetic about all of the struggles taylor swift has had and how she is absolutely a victim and how dare i suggest otherwise - is exactly what i'm talking about. you feel the need to jump down the throat of anyone who says anything remotely negative about her. this is the whole "victim" narrative, that she is vulnerable and must be protected and defended from all negativity at all times at all costs.

and like. that is on purpose. she has cultivated that narrative for this reason. so that publications are now afraid to post reviews of her albums with bylines because their journalists are getting death threats if they criticize her.

i am not suggesting that taylor swift has never had anything bad ever happen to her. that would be insane. i am trying to say that this culture that has been cultivated within her fanbase of defending and protecting her, is extreme and irrational. and when you don't buy into it, it makes a lot of the content surrounding taylor swift very hard to swallow.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

yandere jabra x woman reader

I'm on the Hunt, I'm After You

Yandere Jabra x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1

3.6k words

Warnings: harassment, unwanted advances and touching, implied stalking, yandere

“Oh (Y/N), your favorite regular is here~!” Gatherine called out in a singsong voice.

“No! Come on! He was just here for breakfast, you can’t be serious!” You slapped the order ticket onto the table and spun around to face her.

“Yes, and now he’s back for lunch,” she snickered, absolutely no sympathy for your plight. 

“My entire section is packed full, you’re just trying to pawn your customers off on me!” You hissed.

“Oh trust me, he’s in your section. When the hostess tried to explain that there weren’t any openings in your section, he went over there and threw out the people at one of your tables.”

You gawked at the woman, aghast at how casually she was telling you all of this, “Are you kidding me? I don’t suppose he got them to leave the money for their bill behind first, did he?”

“Probably not, but I’m sure you could get him to pay it if you play your cards right,” she winked at you, and the subtext was heard loud and clear.

“Ew, no thanks,” you had to suppress the urge to gag. “He’s so sleazy, how in the hell did you ever date him?”

“I mean, it wasn’t for very long, but he really wasn’t bad or anything. Kinda clingy, though. But now I’ve got my sights set on someone else,” she sighed dreamily.

“And how’s that working for you?” You asked dryly, rolling your eyes. How anyone could want to pursue someone like Rob Lucci was beyond you. Sure, he’s good looking, but that ice cold look in his eyes was extremely off putting.

“It’ll happen,” she spoke resolutely. “These things take time, you know.”

“Yeah, sure.” You had your doubts about her most recent romantic pursuit, but that really wasn’t your business. You ripped another order ticket off your pad and scribbled down your regular’s usual lunch order before placing it with the rest. Fortunately, that man was predictable in what he ordered, so you could spare yourself at least one trip to his table.

Gatherine was continuing to wax poetic about Rob Lucci behind you, but you had your own problems to worry about. You grabbed a bottle of sake from the liquor cabinet and an ochoko to bring with you to the table. 

The kitchen door stood before you, acting as the last barrier between you and the customers. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to relax. It’s just another customer. A creepy and annoying one, sure, but it was nothing to get so bent out of shape over. You’ll be fine.

With a nod, you confidently walk out and scan the room to figure out which of your tables had been evicted. It didn’t take long to do so, Jabra stuck out from the other customers. Much to your chagrin, he made eye contact and flashed you his typical wolfish grin. As per usual, he was happy to see you.

Making sure to keep your face as neutral as possible, you approached the table he had commandeered. He was here alone this time, which was less than ideal for you. If he was with one of his colleagues, the experience was much more tolerable since they would tend to keep him distracted. Kumadori, as dramatic as he was, kept Jabra more than occupied with his antics, and Fukuro was fun to have around because he would always let loose some piping hot gossip. It was especially funny when the tea he was spilling was at Jabra’s expense.

Alas, you would have no such fun today. 

The ochoko is set onto the table and you pour a generous helping of sake into it, “Good afternoon, sir. I don’t suppose you would know what happened to the people who were here before, would you?” Of course, you already knew what had happened, but you wanted to make the bastard explain himself in hopes that maybe, just maybe, he would feel a bit of shame.

Their plates and glasses were still on the table, though they had all been pushed to one side. You’ll have to flag down a busser to get that cleaned up, lest the manager complains about looking “unprofessional”.

Jabra grins, “Oh, them? They were already done eating, so they let me have their table.”

Your eyes drift over to the half eaten meals, “Is that what happened?”

“What? Are you calling me a liar? That hurts, you know!” Taking a page out of Kumadori’s book, he dramatically clutched at his chest as if your words were so sharp that they actually cut you.

You rolled your eyes, not caring if he saw it, “I would never.” Every syllable was completely flat and monotone.

“Well, maybe I pressured them a little,” he snickered. “Did they not pay before they left?”

More like before they were kicked out. Whatever, you don’t want to prolong this interaction by arguing with him, “Nope, can’t say they did.” 

Jabra gasped in mock outrage, “How could they do something like that to you?! Some people are shameless!” He could say that again. He dug around in his pocket, “Tell you what, I’ll cover their bill. I would hate for you to have to pay because they ran out on you.”

Thank god, you had been worried that you were going to have to foot the bill. Jabra acting like this wasn’t completely his fault was certainly annoying, but you could take it if it meant not losing a chunk of your paycheck over his stunt. A wad of cash was held out to you, but all you did was stare at it.

“That is way too much.” Without even counting it, you knew that was easily three or four times their bill.

“C’mon, just take it. It’s a nice tip, isn’t it?” Undeterred by your hesitation, he holds it out more, trying to force the money into your hand. 

You took a decisive step back. You know what game he’s playing here. He isn’t being generous to make up for evicting your table, he’s trying to make it so that you feel like you owe him. Your hands fidgeted with your apron, “It’s too much, I can’t accept that.” The last thing you wanted was for him to have some perceived leverage on you and try to use that against you.

“Since when do waitresses refuse tips?” His fingers drummed against the table, the once relaxed smile had become rigid. “How about this: You can use this to cover my meal, too.”

Even if you took what his bill would be into account, it would still be an absurdly large tip. Now you were torn between standing your ground so as to not give him an in, and caving so that he doesn’t get upset.

Apparently, your internal debate was taking too long for his liking. Jabra reached forward suddenly, grabbed your apron, and yanked you towards him. You yelped as you stumbled and scrambled to stabilize yourself. The first thing that your hand found purchase on was his shoulder. If you hadn't grabbed onto something you would have fallen right onto him. Now that you think about it, that was likely what he had hoped would have happened. 

Sleazy pervert.

Jabra took advantage of the close proximity to stuff the money into your apron. Rather than retracting his hand now that his mission was accomplished, he rested it on your hip, thumb tracing circles over it, “See? You’ve got the money and nothing bad happened”

You begged to differ. Between the smarmy smile on his face and the unwanted touches, you had to fight the impulse to slap him. He deserved it, but unfortunately that would absolutely get you fired. You had to settle for wrenching yourself out of his grip and taking several steps back this time. Through clenched teeth, you mutter out a ‘thanks’.

Taking a moment to calm down, you try to excuse yourself, “I need to go tend to other tables now.”

You try to hurry past him, but he catches your wrist, “Hey, wait! You haven't taken my order yet.”

“You get the same thing every time, I already submitted the order to the kitchen.”

His smile widened, “Well maybe I want to try something new, you never know.”

This man was definitely trying to get a rise out of you. You haven’t bothered giving him a menu after the first time when he waved it off and said he didn’t need one. But if he wanted to play stupid games, then you suppose it was your right to let him have stupid prizes. For once, you found yourself to be the one grinning. Albeit maliciously. 

“Alright. I’ll cancel the lamb chops and fetch you our vegetarian menu to look over.” His smile dropped and he looked downright panicked. Deciding to take it a step further, you reach for the sake bottle, “My bad for bringing this out, I’ll switch it out for some water. Good on you for making healthier choices.”

Finally, his hand abandoned your wrist and snatched the sake bottle out of our other hand, “Whoa there, I was just joking!” Once the adrenaline rush of almost losing his precious alcohol passed, he chuckled, “Didn’t know you could be so funny, rabbit.”

The nickname made you scowl, you hated when he called you that. Any attempt at expressing as much only seemed to encourage him to use it more, so you’ve learned to bite your tongue.

Jabra leaned forward and propped his chin up on his fist, “It’s sweet of you to remember what I like.”

“I’m just doing my job,” you explained flatly before bolting out of there. You wiped your palms on your apron, they had become uncomfortably sweaty during that whole interaction. Him being touchy wasn’t anything new, but he was escalating it beyond the point where you could grin and bear it for the sake of employment. You don’t remember him being this bad when him and Gatherine were still together. Then again, you really hadn’t been paying that much attention, so maybe you just missed it. 

What had you done to be forced to endure this treatment? Even if you did get fired, you couldn’t escape. Working at a place as secretive as Enies Lobby came with pros and cons. Sure, you were being paid extremely well, but that came at the price of not being able to leave freely. If this job didn’t work out, you would be shuffled to a different, less desirable position. Waiting tables was among the better positions given that you made tips on top of a decent wage. You were only five months in on a ten year contract. 

Based on what you’ve heard from your coworkers, you would be pressured to renew your contract after it ends, and if you did choose to leave it was a grueling process involving being thoroughly interrogated to ensure you hadn’t overheard anything you weren’t supposed to. It’s been said that being allowed to leave was virtually impossible and unheard of, they always find something to justify keeping you here. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if speaking to Fukuro was an immediate disqualifier in and of itself. 

The odds of ever being able to leave were unlikely to say the least. This was something you hadn’t known until after you were hired and signed the contract, but that seemed to be the case for everyone. It was scary and disheartening, but you’re trying to stay positive.

If you could just keep this up, your family would be set for at least the next ten years. You sent them almost everything you made, only keeping enough for the most basic of living expenses. Even when you were living as barebones as you were, it felt luxurious by comparison to what you were used to. Your home island was so poverty stricken that your family’s only hope for survival was for as many of you as possible to leave and send back money to those who couldn’t. A handful of your cousins had also applied to work here, but only you were hired. Presumably because of your brother being a promising marine that was climbing the ranks. No doubt he put in a good word for you.

Was it selfish to wish he hadn’t? Probably, but there’s no point in dwelling on that, is there?

After you finished checking on your other tables, you went over to the register with the bill from the guests Jabra had thrown out. You paid it and couldn’t help but be awed by how much berry was still left over. It was enough for a month of groceries back home. You can’t fathom being paid so well that this would be seen as disposable income.

As uncomfortable as Jabra made you… your family needed this money. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to indulge him at least a little if it meant keeping your loved ones from starving. Maybe you could learn to take it in stride and not let it get under your skin when he leered at you like you were a piece of meat.

You shoved the money into one of your pockets and lightly slapped your face. You’re on the clock, now isn’t the time to be getting hung up on your unfortunate situation. Spinning on your heels, you head for the kitchen to see if any of your orders are ready yet.

Someone was coming up on your side, and you turned slightly to see who it was. William, one of the busboys on shift today was heading for the kitchen as well with a tub full of dishes. Oh right, you needed him to clean off one of your tables.

“Hey, Will. After you drop that off could you clean off table 13 for me? Jabra’s at it, but he kicked out the people who were there and their plates need to be taken away.”

He stopped dead in his tracks and gaped at you, “He kicked them out? The fuck is his problem?”

You snorted, “Do you think I know?”

The tub was unceremoniously dropped on a nearby counter and Will less-than-subtly looked out over the dining room. His lip pulled back in disgust when his eyes landed on Jabra and the leftover remains of the previous diners’ meals. He ran a hand through his frizzy red hair and huffed, “What a fucking creep, he’s lucky he’s so high up because if he wasn’t I would kick his sorry ass myself.”

The bold threat made you chuckle. Will was like this with all of the staff here. He didn’t give a shit if someone was a high ranking marine or government agent, he would call out anyone for making the wait staff uncomfortable. Well, almost anyone. Even he knew better than to confront a member of CP9.

“Thanks for worrying about me, but it’s fine. I can handle it.”

Just like that, his attention was back on you. His arms crossed over his chest as he regarded you with an exasperated expression, “Just because you can “handle it” doesn’t mean you should have to. That asshole needs to learn to leave you the hell alone. He didn’t get handsy again this time, did he?”

The way that you immediately averted your gaze and grimaced answered his question. His expression darkened and he began untying his apron, “I’ll kill him.”

“No! No you will not! It will be the other way around, calm down!” You latched onto his arm and tried to talk some sense into your hot headed coworker. “It’s fine, really!”

Will was glowering in Jabra’s direction. His chest heaved with each agitated breath and his hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly. Sharply, he turned his attention to you. His rage contorted face slowly relaxed into a deep scowl and he sighed, “Fine. Whatever. He’s lucky you’re holding me back.”

“Sure he is. Now get back to work before Mal catches us slacking off.” The manager, Mallory as she preferred to be called, was a hardass. You did NOT want to be caught being idle by her.

“Yeah, you’re right. But hey, you better let me know if that creep tries anything else. Even if I can’t beat his ass, maybe we can get something worked out so that you’re less likely to see him.”

You shook your head, “Okay, mom, will do.”

Will grumbled at you to watch it, but ultimately decided to drop the matter for now. You approach and go through the kitchen doors, keeping them open just long enough for William to slip in before they can close. You check the counter and find that fresh plates of hot food are being piled on and one of the cooks slaps the bell a couple of times to signify that an order is ready. From the looks of it, there are a few orders done. 

A quick glance at the tickets confirms that most of these are for your section, so you waste no time piling them onto a tray so you can haul all of these out at once. One of the completed orders was Jabra’s, much to your dismay. You just got away from him and now you’re going to be forced to go back. Lucky you.

Wanting to prolong the inevitable, you saved his table for last. None of the customers you had leading up to him were feeling particularly chatty, so this wound up not being as much of a buffer as you had hoped.

Sucking in a breath and plastering a fake smile onto your face, you hurry over with the hope of dropping off the plate and running before Jabra could harass you again. The table had been cleared, and you can’t help but wonder if Will was mean mugging Jabra the entire time he was there. 

“Here’s your meal,” you state plainly.

You tried to just keep going, you really did, but Jabra’s arm snaked around your waist, effectively keeping you from running. Your mind was screeching for him to stop touching you, but such comments had to stay in your mind.

“What’s the rush? It’s like you’re trying to run away from me,” Jabra’s tone was teasing. If only he knew how right he was. Or maybe he did and this was all some sick joke to him.

“We’re in the middle of the lunch rush, I have a lot to do right now,” you’re surprised at how calm your voice is despite how irritable you felt. Hopefully he’ll accept the answer and let go of you. His grip was so strong that you couldn’t easily step out of it.

“I guess you’ve got a point, I won’t keep you here long.” If only he wouldn’t keep you here at all. “It’s a shame you have to work so hard. Why don’t you let me take you somewhere nice tonight?”

There he goes again. This was far from the first time he made this proposal. He’s nothing if not persistent, you’ll give him that. Your nails dug into your palm as you mulled over your excuse this time. Hanging out with Gatherine? No, you’ve used that too many times. It’s not like he was going to stop if you gave a masterful excuse, you suppose anything would work, “Sorry, I’m going to be busy cleaning tonight.” This wasn’t even a lie, you’ve been meaning to do a deep clean of your apartment for a month now.

Jabra huffed, “You’re going to work all day here only to go home and work some more? Come on, let me treat you to a fun night. It’ll be nice, I promise.” His arm constricted, forcing you even closer.

“I’ve been putting this off for a while, I really want to get it done,” you insisted.

A tense staredown ensued, and you weren’t sure who would win. Would you lose your nerve and break eye contact first, or would he give up? The hair on the back of your neck felt like it was standing up from the tension in the air. His jaw was tight. It appeared your string of rejections were starting to get to him.

“Alright, I get it,” Shockingly, he let go of you and looked down at his food instead.

For a moment, you were too stunned to move. “I get it”? Did he finally get the hint? He shot a questioning look over his shoulder when you didn’t immediately leave, and that was enough to prompt you into scurrying off. You’re not sure what made him see the light, but who were you to look a gift horse in the mouth? 

Despite the discomfort you just felt, you went about your shift with a skip in your step. The possibility that Jabra was going to leave you alone was downright euphoric. You felt bad for whoever was going to be his next unlucky target, but at least you were in the clear! The tips would be missed, but you would allow yourself to be selfish just this once.

The lunch rush slowly came down to a trickle as customers filtered out (of their own volition this time) and weren’t immediately replaced with more. One of the guests that left was Jabra, but you were surprised to find more money left next to his empty plate. You had already covered his bill with the money he’d given you previously, like he’d suggested.

Your fingers ghosted over the berry, then quickly slipped it into your pocket. Maybe it was an apology for his behavior? Unlikely, but not impossible.

Maybe things are going to get better for you now? You had a rough start, but it’ll be smooth sailing with Jabra having called it quits. Everything is going to be fine, great even! You’re finally going to be able to relax.

Surely that sensation of feeling like you’re always being watched will go away now that you’re no longer paranoid about Jabra.

[thelaurenshippen]

question about my favourite tbs character: did you intend to write damien to seem borderline or did that just come about unintentionally? i have BPD and holy shit damien reads as SO borderline to me it’s kind of insane. there’s that entire final letter in SFP, but the line “i think maybe i’m supposed to hate all of me” hits so, so close to home for me. maybe i’m not as self destructive as damien, but i do understand him. he makes me feel so seen and maybe that’s a grim thing to say given his behaviour, but… damien absolutely reads as borderline to me. his unstable relationships he manages to sabotage intentionally or unintentionally, his barely-there sense of self that balances on the fact that he thinks he’s this horrible monster, his impulsive decisions that somehow never work and always bite him in the ass, his intense mood swings, his genuine terror of being abandoned to the point where he will beg someone for even a scrap of love as soon as he’s not immediately hated, and the part about not knowing what wants are his or what wants deserve space — maybe he’s a villain and historically, BPD is used as a villainous trait, but damien doesn’t feel like a moustache twirling, witch cackling, murderous and irredeemable villain to me. he just seems like someone who’s made of bad decisions and ruined relationships. he seems like someone who’s in a lot of pain and doesn’t know how to live with himself so he constantly searches for someone to fill this massive, emptiness inside him that won’t ever be filled because no one taught him what it felt like to be whole — not until he kidnapped met mark and predictably enough, that relationship crumbled to dust. damien hasn’t had much, so he holds onto things and people so tight that they end up getting crushed between his fingers and somehow he loses everything he gets even though he could have anything he’d ever wanted. maybe i’m completely misinterpreting damien but i do absolutely love him and he’s SUCH a well written character. i could easily talk about him for hours to anyone who will listen.

sorry for waxing poetic about damien in your ask box but i love him so much and who better to vomit my thoughts about him to than the person who wrote damien, right?

I love that you love Damien!!! I really love him too, and it means a lot when people relate to him or see him as more than just a mustache-twirling villain because he is more than that. he's someone who makes the same terrible decisions over and over again, someone who has been corrupted by his power, and who wants connection but doesn't know how to get it. that doesn't excuse any of his actions, of course, and he's not irredeemable, because no one is, but he would need to be way more active in his own redemption to really get there. he's a very complicated person and it means a lot to me when people appreciate all those complex, human dimensions.

all that said, I'm always glad to hear that people headcanon any characters with anything they feel like they share, but I've written very few characters with specific conditions. even though she's never actually technically diagnosed (Dr. Bright does not do traditional diagnosis), Sam has anxiety and a panic disorder. I have those diagnoses myself, so I feel confident in saying that's what she struggles with. the other major one would be Frank's PTSD - I knew he had PTSD from the get-go and always wrote him with that in mind. but, of course, that's not to say other characters don't have diagnosable PTSD, just that I haven't necessarily thought in those terms with a lot of characters.

in general, I don't find it particularly useful for my writing purposes to get formal with how I'm thinking about my characters and their mental health. I focus instead on how they feel, how they behave, their relationships, etc. and because of who I am and who I have in my life (which includes people with BPD as well as bipolar, anxiety, depression, PTSD, autism, adhd, etc.), a lot of traits of various conditions pop up here and there. a professional psychiatrist might be able to look at my characters and the DSM and match things up, but that's not my expertise nor particularly useful to me personally!!

but again, I love headcanons! I have my own relationship to the bright sessions and its characters, but from the moment I released the first episode, they ceased being mine. they're yours to do with what you choose!

[bardic-inspo]

2024 Writing Retrospection

Tagged by the lovely @amoremagnificentbastard 💜

What's been your biggest learning point this past year?

Don't wait until you're done with X to write the Y thing you've been dying to get to. Don't kill your own joy by forcing yourself to earn the fun parts. Write the fun parts now. Write them whenever and however you want to. Start as many things as you want. You don't have to finish everything you write for it to be worthwhile. Some stories are stepping stones for you to find your footing to the things you've wanted to work on, deep down.

How has your writing developed this past year?

I've been steadily working on becoming more concise and building my dialogue skills. I do still like to wax poetic on the tangible aspects (and I often have a lot to say, case in point hehe), but I'm proud with my progress. I think Aeterna Nostalgia in particular is a good example of this, especially compared to other longfics I've written. I think it gives my writing a better balance than it had in the past. I plan to keep working on this!

Good writing habits?

I think I've gotten better at gauging when to hunker down and when to take a break! And about taking time between when I stop editing and when I do my final, pre-posting read-through.

Bad writing habits?

My inner editor never shuts up. I have a love-hate relationship with it, because I do think it makes me write at a painstakingly slow pace, but in some respects, it saves editing later. I do wish I could shush that instinct a bit more.

Favorite thing you wrote?

Both of my Ascended Astarion fics, Aeterna Nostalgia and Blood in the Mortar. I don't see many portrayals of Ascended Astarion in the vein I depicted him (and I pretty much instantly devour those fics anytime I do), and so with these fics, I felt sort of like a kid in a candy shop getting to write the exact sort of thing I wanted to read myself.

Favorite reads?

Oh god, so many! Too many to count!

Since I mentioned not seeing too many Ascended Astarion fics in the flavor of him I typically like to read, I thought I'd call out some amazing writers who've written a dark and devilish A!A who still loves Tav/Durge/his consort. These are fics that, in my opinion, handle the complexity of A!A very well, and don't shy away from his darkness while still honoring all of the elements that make Ascended Astarion very much still Astarion. Many also feature a consort/Tav/durge/main character who can go toe-to-toe with a power-tripping Ascendant.

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal by @brain-rot-central

Death & His Maiden by @pinkberrytea

Hell & You by @ladymdc

How Far You've Come & No Good Deeds & Magic, Music, and Mazes by Garnett Gibson

By Proxy and Oblivion & Obsession by @alcetryx

(*This is no shade whatsoever to those who write a more corrupted A!A whose affection for Tav is twisted, I just personally prefer the flavor I described. This list is, of course, non-exhaustive, and just features some of the fics I happened to read that I wanna throw more love on!!)

Biggest win?

About a year ago, I was brand new to a new fandom. I hadn't written in ~6 months or so. I'd never written anything besides Fallout fanfic. I had a lot of self-doubt, and felt like probably no one would read anything of mine, anyway. I felt like I was already late to a party where everyone had already made friends/servers/connections and fanon had some well-rooted opinions.

But now here I am, a year later, having made some amazing friends and met so many kind people who inspired me and encouraged me personally and creatively. I'm not self-doubt free, but I feel like I've found a space where I can write what brings me joy, and I get to be giddy about that with others. That's huge to me. That's everything.

Goals for the new year?

To keep working on the things I strove for last year: write what brings me joy, write semi-regularly (3-5 days a week), work towards being concise, and to write lots more Aeterna Nostalgia!

Your favorite words of the year, aka the words you check each chapter for, making sure you didn't repeat them 788 times?

OOOF I have a lot of these hehe. Off the top of my head, some common offenders include breath (like stealing/holding/catching a breath), jaw clenching, and the words 'fleeting', 'briefly', and 'tender'.

What are you excited for in the new year?

Reading more good fic, writing more fic, and getting to be giddy with friends about it!!

Tagging in turn: @electricshoebox, @brain-rot-central, @ladymdc, @dismalzelenka, @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate,

@elinorbard, and @marlowethebard if you wanna do this, no worries if not! 💜

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Love and War

Sam is struggling with a lot of things. She's half-ghost, she's in love with her two best friends, she's desperately trying to keep both those things a secret, and to top it all off, one of those two best friends is missing, and she's doing everything she can to find him.

For the prompts: Sam has two secrets. One: She's in love with her two best friends. Two: She's a ghost. [from @carelisswriting] Danny has been missing for 2 weeks. Sam and Tucker find him floating, unconscious, in the Ghost Zone, but something's different when he wakes up. [from @hippykattrs], and Reverse trio au but through a series of shenanigans Danny still ends up being the ghost king [from Yellow]

Read also on AO3

[Warning for canon-typical violence and kidnapping]

Sam Manson had only two real, genuine, secrets. The kind of secrets a person held close to their chest and kept as if their life depended on it. The kind of secrets a person lied and tricked people in order to keep, no matter how guilty it made them feel. First, that she was a ghost; and second, that she was in love with her two best friends.

The first of those secrets, only her two best friends knew. They were the two people she trusted most in the world, and the only two people she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt wouldn't ever share that secret, even under threat of death.

The other secret, she hadn't told even them. And she probably never would.

It wasn't that she didn't trust them with it, of course she did. It was just that she didn't want to make things awkward between them. Her being a ghost only changed their entire world-view and understanding of human mortality. But her other secret, her secret crush—that getting out could ruin everything.

Her feelings weren't knew to her. Back in eighth grade, she'd started to develop a crush on both of them at the same time, and she'd thought she was a bad person for not being able to pick just one person to like. She'd since gotten over that, because she'd decided it was stupid, and then a little bit after that, she'd also learned what polyamory was, which cemented her decision that her guilt had been stupid.

As time passed, her feelings grew beyond just a couple of simple crushes, and into genuine, actual love, so strong that it hurt a little. She always scoffed and rolled her eyes when the subject of romance came up, pretending she wasn't interested, and that she thought anyone who would waste their time with something so ridiculous, especially in high school, was an idiot.

It helped to keep her true feelings hidden, even though every time she listened to Tucker all but waxing poetic about the most recent tech he'd found at the scrapyard and was gutting, either to repurpose into recycled tech or new techno-goth accessories—or heard Danny bragging about getting the high score on the NASA shuttle flight simulator, or ranting about stars, she was sure they were written all over her face.

She was down bad, and she knew it—but she would rather die than admit it and risk changing their group's whole dynamic, or even worse, losing her friends completely because she'd made it weird between them.

Danny and Tucker had been friends practically since they were born, but Sam had only become their friend in the sixth grade, and even though that was still a solid three years at this point, she still felt that three years wasn't enough to cement her position if she did something too crazy, like confessing her undying love out of nowhere—not that she would do it like that, because even if she was brave enough to confess at all, that would be coming on way too strong.

The other secret was... more recent. Freshman year had barely started, and the three of them were all hanging out at Danny's house. His parents had made a portal, claiming that it would lead to a place called the Ghost Zone. Unfortunately, it didn't work. It was still cool enough—in theory, at least—that Danny took Sam and Tucker down into his parents' lab to show it to them.

Sam took a couple of pictures. It did look really cool, for a hole in the wall. very futuristic and techie.

"You should go inside and let me take a picture of you," Sam suggested to Danny.

"Are you kidding?" Danny scoffed. "This is untested technology, what if I get electrocuted or something?"

"Fine, I'll do it, and you can take the picture," Sam replied with a roll of her eyes. "It doesn't work, anyway." She handed her camera off to Danny.

"At least put a protective jumpsuit on?" Danny requested. "I don't wanna see you get hurt."

"That's sweet," Sam said. Her tone was sarcastic, but her feelings were genuine. Danny always was sweet—and was only sometimes a bit of a jackass. "Make sure to get the whole portal in the picture. Don't just focus on me and ignore the background."

She borrowed one of Danny's jumpsuits and put it on over her clothes. It was a bit loose on her, and Sam always somehow managed to destroy or stain white clothes, but her main complaint was the big Jack Fenton decal on the chest, which she promptly tore off and threw away.

"I'm not walking around with your dad's face on my chest," she said, then went to stand just inside the portal. "Alright, take the picture."

Danny did, and once the flash faded, Sam turned around to get a look at the big, steel tunnel she was standing in. It was cold and dark, and gave her a strange almost menacing sort of energy that made her body feel like it was buzzing, and she kind of dug it, to be honest. It was weird, but cool.

"This this is actually really cool," she remarked, taking a few steps further in.

"Be careful, Sam!" Danny shouted after her.

The deeper she got in, the stranger it became. In the darkness, the seams in the metal interior seemed to faintly glow and pulse with green, like something was trying to squeeze its way through the cracks, even though the portal didn't work.

Before Sam knew it, she was all the way at the back of the tunnel, and there was some kind of iris shaped mechanism. It, too, appeared to glow, ever so faintly in the dark. Too curious for her own good, Sam put her gloved hand on the mechanism. That turned out to be a mistake.

It happened in an instant, too fast for her to even scream. And when she gasped it felt as if her throat was being filled with silly putty and she choked. Her body was flooded with energy. Simultaneously, red hot pain tore through her every molecule, and an icy chill engulfed her like she'd just fallen through the ice into a frozen lake. The force of the energy from that mysterious mechanism sent her flying backwards as a bright, toxic green filled her vision, pressing in on her from all sides.

The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back in the Fentons' lab, with Danny and Tucker both leaning over her, repeating her name in panicked tones.

"Hm?" she groaned out. "What... what happened?"

Danny and Tucker looked at each other, both of them seemingly at a loss. Danny still had her Polaroid camera, and he held it up and snapped a picture of her, for some reason. She flinched at the flash.

The photo printed, and Danny pulled it off the camera and started to shake it. "Now... don't freak out when you see it but..." he looked at the picture with a pained expression. "Here."

When he turned it around to show her, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. If she hadn't watched him take the picture, she wouldn't have believed it was even her in it. Her hair had turned shock white, and her violet eyes a glowing green. In the back of her mind, almost hysterically, she noted that the jumpsuit was black now, meaning she had once again managed to ruin another piece of white clothing—although it definitely wasn't just a nasty-sauce stain this time.

"What... happened to me?" she asked, her voice a raspy croak.

"I think... you're a ghost," Danny said.

"But hey," Tucker added, obviously trying to bring up the mood. "At least you look cool!"

She did, admittedly, look very cool. Although the dark and spooky aesthetic was more in line with Tucker's than her own.

As it turned out, Sam was only half ghost, or at the very least, if she was a ghost, she could transform to look basically human. If she looked very closely in the mirror, she could see the differences from the way she looked before. The way her hair was lighter, and seemed to almost float whenever she turned her head. The ways her eyes reflected when she moved, or when light shined directly on them.

It was fine.

She was fine.

That had been a few months ago, now, and with the help of all the ghost hunting technology Danny managed to 'borrow' from his parent's lab (though he usually had to modify it with his own engineering skills to make it actually work), Sam had become something of a hero around Amity Park—the Specter. Once Sam had gotten the portal working, other ghosts started to cause come through it into Amity Park, and unlike Sam they all seemed to want to stir up trouble. Although Danny liked to argue that Sam stirred up plenty of trouble herself too.

He used to argue anyway.

But the problem Sam was facing right now wasn't secrets, or crushes, or ghosts. The problem she was most worried about at the moment, was the fact that Danny had been missing for two weeks. According to his parents, he'd been carried off by a ghost, one who hadn't stopped long enough for a chat.

She and Tucker were pretty sure he was somewhere in the Ghost Zone, but that hardly narrowed it down. The Ghost Zone was endless, infinite, impossibly vast. They could search for decades and never find Danny. That didn't deter them in the slightest though. They couldn't get away with just abandoning their lives to search for their friend, but every day after school, and all through the weekends, Sam and Tucker had borrowed the Fenton's Specter Speeder and gone into the Ghost Zone to search for him.

In two weeks, they hadn't seen hide nor hair of Danny. They had, however, seen the Ghost Zone looking more dismal and chaotic than they'd ever seen it before. Fights breaking out left and right, skeletal ghosts swarming places. As much as Sam wanted to help, they couldn't afford to stop. They had a lot of ground to cover, and they had no idea if Danny was even still alive.

By three am, they had found nothing, and decided to call it before they made themselves late for school in a few hours. They'd be back again the next day at 3:30 to search some more.

And they did.

But when they came back at 3:30, everything was different. Peaceful.

Somehow, all the aggressive skeletal soldiers had magically vanished, and the chaos that had defined the Ghost Zone since they started the search for their friend had died down in just a few hours. There were no fights, no new destruction.

The ghosts they saw paid them no attention, focused on rebuilding and cleaning up the various carnage and detritus of the previous battles. None of them seemed the slightest bit concerned about being attacked again.

Just in case, Sam and Tucker kept the ghost shield around the specter speeder active, but it was the strangest thing. For the last two weeks, it had been like the Ghost Zone was a war zone, and now the war had somehow ended. Curious as it was, it didn't matter to their search for their missing friend. They could try to figure out what had happened later, once Danny was safely back with them.

After a few hours, as they started to steer into another area they hadn't searched yet, they saw rows of ghosts, floating silently in the green.

"What are they doing?" Tucker whispered, as if he was worried they might hear him and get angry if he spoke too loud.

"I don't know," Sam whispered back. "I'm gonna take us up a little higher so we can see what's going on."

She pulled back on the steering and took them up over the rows of ghosts. From above, they could see the ghosts lined up almost as if on the banks of an invisible river. In the distance, the ghosts standing what would be upriver, started to float away in a wave.

"What are they doing?" Sam echoed Tucker's question. "I'm gonna fly us closer."

Tucker nodded and she brought them in. As they got closer to where the ghosts were leaving their positions, they could see something floating down the invisible river. When the object—the figure, they realized as they approached—drifted past them, they would fall out of line and float away, as if they'd been standing vigil until it passed for some reason.

"Wait a minute, is that...?" Tucker stated to say, squinting at the drifting figure.

"Danny!"

Sam immediately put on the speed, bringing them right over the drifting figure.

"Deactivate the ghost shield," she said. "I'm going ghost."

Tucker hit the button and Sam, in the ghost form, dropped out through the lower hatch to grab Danny. After two weeks of searching, he was just floating there, unconscious. And all these ghosts seemed happy to stand around and watch without bothering to help him.

When Sam wrapped her arms around her unconscious friends, the ghosts around them hissed and jeered.

"You dare lay a hand on him?" one demanded.

"Back off! He's my friend," she all but snarled at them.

"The Specter..." a different ghost observed. "She must be."

"He is safe, then," said another.

Word started to spread down the line, and steadily, all the ghosts dispersed. For a moment, Sam just watched, then she shook her head and flew herself and Danny back into the Specter Speeder.

"We're in! Reactivate the ghost shield," she called out.

Tucker did so, and as soon as he hit the button, he hurried over to them.

Gently, Sam laid Danny out on the floor and started checking him over for injuries. He still had a pulse, so that, at least, was a good sign. Less good was the fact that he was covered in scrapes and burns, although none of them seemed too severe.

"We should take him to a hospital when we get back, but he should be okay," Sam said.

"You should take him to a hospital," Tucker corrected, holding his hands up. "I don't do hospitals... should we try to wake him up?"

Sam gently tapped Danny's cheeks. Her heart was pounding and she didn't think she'd ever been so worried for anyone in her life. Or so relieved.

Danny groaned slightly.

"Danny," she said softly. "Danny, wake up."

He groaned some more and blinked his eyes open, squinting up at them. His irises had a strange, iridescent quality that Sam recognized vaguely from her own. But they also weren't like her own in a way she couldn't quite describe. Whatever it was, by reaching out with her ghost sense, she could at least tell for absolutely sure, that Danny was still human, and a not a ghost, or half-ghost like her.

"Sam?" he asked. "Tucker? What are you doing here?"

"Us?" Tucker scoffed, "What are you doing here? You've been gone for, like, two weeks. What happened to you?"

Danny chuckled weakly. "That's... kind of a long story," he replied.

The two of them helped him up off the hard floor of a speeder and into a chair, then Sam went to program the autopilot to take them back to the Fenton Portal.

"We've got time," Tucker told him, crossing his arms.

Sam had always thought it would be kind of uncomfortable to cross one's arms with fishnet sleeves, but Tucker never seemed to mind it.

Now that he was sitting up and moving and stuff, Sam noticed that Danny looked a little thin. He probably hadn't been getting enough to eat or drink in the Ghost Zone the past two weeks. Luckily, they kept a very well-stocked snack drawer in the specter speeder, and a case of bottled water, too.

Once he had some food in him, Danny was much more willing to talk, and he started to tell them the story of his time in the Zone, starting with his kidnapping.

"While I was helping my parents in their lab," he began, "you know, tweaking their designs, thinking about what might be useful to the three of us ghost hunting as usual. And the portal was open, because we figured if anything came through, there were three of us in the lab, surrounded by ghost hunting equipment, so it would be fine.

"But the ghost that came through didn't want to fight, or escape. He just flew in, grabbed me, and flew back through the portal. It was a matter of seconds. I'm sure my parents tried to chase after us, but in the time it would have taken them to get to the specter speeder, the ghost had taken me far away."

"Why you?" Sam asked. "What did you do to tick off this ghost?"

"Nothing," Danny told her. "He actually thought I was you."

She stiffened. Honestly, she shouldn't have been all that surprised. Ever since she started kicking their asses and sending them home with their tails between their legs, ghosts had been coming after Sam left and right, but they always wanted to pick fights, not kidnap her. Well... arguably Skulker wanted to kidnap her, but he knew the difference between her and Danny.

"Why?" she asked again.

"Apparently there's this Ghost King, seriously bad dude, and a long time ago, he was imprisoned in this thing called the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. But a little while, somehow, he was released or broke out or something. Not really sure which. So basically, they wanted you because you're a halfa, and the way they told it, halfas are way more powerful than regular ghosts for some reason.

"Except they messed up," Danny said. "They knew the halfa was a teenager, and that you'd been turned by the Fenton Portal, but they didn't know who you were, so when Rustle came through the portal and immediately saw a teenager working near it, he assumed that I was the halfa."

"But then you explained the situation to them right?" Tucker guessed. They both knew damn well how much Danny loved to explain things—it was one of his most adorable and sometimes annoying—so it was a reasonable conclusion to draw. "Why didn't they bring you back?"

"I didn't get the chance to explain it to them until Rustle had taken me all the way back to the lair the resistance was using as a base of operations and they told me why they kidnapped me in the first place," Danny said. "By that point, the king's spies had told them about the resistance's plan and he sent a crap ton of his soldiers to block off access to the Fenton Portal. Once it was guarded, it was way too dangerous to send me back or try again to get the right person, so they had to make do with me.

"They told me I wasn't going home until the Ghost King was defeated."

Danny paused in his story to drink some more water and open another back of corn chips.

"Seriously Danny?" Tucker asked. "You're leaving us hanging for corn chips?"

Danny didn't bother to swallow before saying, "Dude, I haven't had human food in two weeks, okay? These corn chips taste like fuckin' heaven right now. You guys can wait."

"Come on, what happened next?" Sam asked.

Danny chewed faster and swallowed before finally continuing his story.

"Well, luckily, I'd been working on some prototype Fenton Tech when Rustle grabbed me, and I managed to hang onto it all the way to the base of operations. Plus, I always have some scraps on me, and Technus and Skulker were part of the resistance, and they have some pretty good tech, too.

"So I spent two weeks, with Technus as my incredibly annoying lab assistant that I had regularly threaten with violence to keep from stabbing me in the back, heavily supervised by the ghosts of the resistance, jury-rigging a super anti-ghost ray gun like some kind of megalomaniacal comic book supervillain. I barely had the time to eat or drink anything, and when I did, it was all ghost food, which was not doing great things for my productivity or energy levels, let me tell you.

"Eventually, though, I finished the weapon. I designed it to absorb energy from the plentiful ectoplasm in the Ghost Zone and harness it into a single, supercharged beam that would be powerful enough to bring any ghost to their knees, and it worked amazingly, if I do say so myself," Danny said. Then he went back to his chips like that was the end of the story.

"What happened after that?"

"Oh, I sniped the ghost king through a window of his keep, knocked him right back into the sarcophagus and blew the crown right off his head."

Tucker laughed.

"What's so funny?" Sam asked.

"Nothing," Tucker replied, shaking his head over his chuckles. "I just still can't get over the fact that engineering geek over here has the best aim of the three of us. Like, it I get why, because his freak parents have been teaching him marksmanship since he could pull a trigger, but it's still funny."

"Yeah, laugh it up," Danny said, smirking. "Which one of us defeated the ghost king, again?"

"I yield," Tucker told him. "What happened after that? You were unconscious when we found you?"

"Oh, well, the ray gun worked, but it kind of overloaded and blew up immediately after that," Danny said. "That's the last thing I remember, but judging by the lack of skeleton soldiers, one of the other resistance guys must've locked the sarcophagus when I was done with him. Not sure who it could have been, though, 'cause I didn't think they even had the key."

Upon hearing what Danny had been put through in his absence, Sam was overcome with emotion.

He'd been kidnapped, blackmailed, starved, forced to work with a ghost that had a very personal vendetta against him, to build a super-weapon that would have gone way against Danny's usual morals, and then defeat an incredibly powerful ghost, the literal king of all ghosts, with an unstable ray-gun that blew up immediately after use, knocked him out, and sent him careening, unconscious, through the Ghost Zone.

And Danny was trying to play it off. He was crunching on corn chips and casually waving off all the traumatic shit he'd just been through like it was no big deal, the same way he always waved off traumatic shit, and Sam... Sam couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh, Danny..." she said, her voice trembling with emotion and eyes wet with oncoming tears.

Her horror at what he'd been through combined with her relief that he didn't have to go through it anymore, and mixed with the feelings she'd been hiding for so long, and she didn't know if it was a case of her wires getting crossed or just momentary insanity, but she reached out and pulled him into a hug and kissed him right on the lips.

His lips tasted like salt and canola oil, and the second she realized what she was doing, Sam pulled back, her face turning an alarming shade of red.

For an unbearable moment, the awkwardness strangled out all sound. Then Tucker let out a forced chuckle.

"What, no kiss for me?" he joked. "You're makin' me feel left out."

Sam, halfway to panicked and not sure what else to do thought 'fuck it', and grabbed his cheeks to plant a kiss right on the lips and instantly smudge his black lipstick all the way up to his nose, unable to stay steady with how incredibly anxious she now was.

Whatever shade of red she'd turned before was so much darker now she felt lightheaded, and Tucker looked dazed as he brought two black-nailed fingers up to his lips in shock.

And just when Sam thought she might die of embarrassment, Danny reached over, grabbed Tucker by his black leather vest, and—whether to ease Sam's embarrassment, or for some other reason Sam couldn't possible comprehend, especially in her current state—he pulled the other boy close and kissed him, too.

They spent the rest of the, thankfully short, ride back to the Fenton Portal steeped in awkward silence. Once they were back in the human world, Tucker sealed the portal while Sam helped Danny upstairs to his parents so they could take him to the hospital.

They didn't say a word about the... kissing incident, even when they started talking again. At least, until about 1 am that night when Tucker sent them an IM on their private group chat.

TooFine: So... we ever gonna talk about that kissing junk? Cus its literally keeping me up at night

Sam was already awake when the message came in. To be honest, it was keeping her up too. She didn't want to say anything, didn't want to explain, but... actually, it felt like it might be easier to tell him, both of them, when there was a screen between them, as if it was a layer of protection. Even if Danny might not see it until later, since the hospital had decided to keep him overnight for observation—although his parents might have brought him his laptop to pass the time.

So Sam took a deep breath and started typing.

Samanson: actually... there's something i need to tell you guys.

Samanson: i've kind of had a crush on you - both of you - since middle school.

Samanson: a huge crush. probably more than a crush, honestly.

Samanson: i didn't want to say anything because i was worried about ruining our friendship, but i guess the cats out of the bag now.

Once she started, she had to forcibly stop herself from sending more messages and pouring out all her feelings in the group chat. She forced herself to sit still, wring her hands, and wait with bated breath for a response, even if she had to wait all night, because god knew she wasn't going to get any sleep after this.

After a long moment, a message came through.

SpaceDanny: Yeah....... me too, actually.

Sam very nearly cried with relief. Danny might tease her sometimes, like they all teased each other, but he knew when to take her seriously, too. She wasn't sure exactly how much he meant by that little 'me too', but at the very least it meant he didn't hate her.

TooFine: Wait ACTUALLY actually???

SpaceDanny: Yeah

Samanson: also yeah.

SpaceDanny: I had a whole sexuality crisis over it, but it was about the same you came out and I didn't wanna steal your thunder, so I decided to keep it to myself for a while.

SpaceDanny: And then I worked it up into such a big deal in my head somehow that I just never did '-_-

Samanson: sooo.......

Tucker hadn't actually said anything about it yet.

Which, on the one hand meant he hadn't shot them down, but the other hand followed that fact with a pretty damn big 'yet'.

Tucker continued to not say anything for several minutes, and Sam started to worry that he was just going to ghost them from now on, which, while ironic, would majorly suck. Even if he didn't want to date them, he was still their best friend and they didn't want to lose him. But they couldn't force him to stay, either.

Finally, another IM came through.

TooFine: You know what? Awesome

Sam let out a sigh of relief and fought back the waterworks again.

TooFine: Ill be real, Ive never really though about it before, but Im definitely not NOT into it. Im getting a girlfriend AND a boyfriend out of this and thats sick as hell.

TooFine: You guys wanna have a movie date saturday?

SpaceDanny: YES

TooFine: Yk, once weve all caught up on some sleep lol

Samanson: definitely. that sounds nice

SpaceDanny: So much yes do I want that

Sam did cry then, but she would never ever tell the two of them that. After the emotional roller coaster that day had been, she was just too happy to hold it in.

Things started to get... weird after that. Not because they all started dating, though. That part was really nice, and went amazingly well right off the bat with the three of them holding hands and cuddling up during school whenever they got the chance—to the point where Ms. Tetslaff called them out at lunch for excessive PDA. No, it was weird for other reasons.

None of them had sufficiently caught up on sleep by the time Saturday rolled around, and Danny still sported bandages from his hospital stay, but it didn't matter. They met up at the movie theater for a matinee and planned to go to dinner at Nasty Burger afterwards. They'd done the same exact thing on plenty of other Saturdays, but it was different this time.

They hit a tiny bump when they got to their seats and decided to to rock-paper-scissors for who got to sit in the middle, Sam won. It hardly mattered though. They pushed up the dividers between the seats, and all fell asleep halfway on top of each other before the halfway point of the movie. The usher had to wake them up and send them out so he could clean the theater before the next showing.

They had a good laugh about that as they all walked to the Nasty Burger.

Up until that point, it was going really well, and the three of them were all happy and having fun. Then a ghost showed up.

And that was when things started to get weird.

The ghost showing up wasn't weird in-and-of itself. Tucker and Danny knew the drill. They blocked Sam from view so she could go ghost and prepare for a fight. Ghosts came to fight Sam all the time, so this was nothing new. Except that this ghost wasn't there for Sam.

This ghost ignored her completely to fire off a ghost ray at Danny and demand that he fight them.

And that was weird.

Still, it wasn't exactly a problem. Danny activated his wrist ray, and although Sam co-opted the bulk of the battle, he provided some solid support. Within a few minutes, the two of them got the ghost into a position where Tucker could capture it in the Fenton thermos. Sam ducked behind them to change back, and they could be back on their way.

"Did you recognize that ghost, Danny?" Sam asked curiously. "One of your resistance friends?"

Danny shrugged and shook his head.

"Weird," Tucker noted.

"Yeah, that's so random," Sam agreed. "Why would a ghost go after Danny? Especially after he literally saved their whole dimension from an evil warmongering king. Way to show him your gratitude."

"I don't know, and I don't care," Danny said coolly. "I just want to go to Nasty Burger, and have dinner with my awesome boyfriend and girlfriend and not have to think about ghosts for a while."

He held out his hands for each of his partners to take, and they walked the rest of the way to Nasty Burger side by side by side, awkwardly and laughingly navigating past street lamps and telephone poles that made the sidewalks too narrow for the three of them shoulder to shoulder, never releasing each other's hands.

Danny got his wish to forget about ghosts for the rest of their date. But that night, he was woken up by a ghost coming into his room to try and attack him in his sleep. It didn't work, because Danny was a light sleeper, and went to bed wearing a wrist ray with an ecto-gun and a Fenton Thermos on his nightstand.

Sam and Tucker were both equally concerned and baffled when Danny told them about it when they came over to hang out the next day. Once could be written off as a fluke, and maybe twice could be a coincidence.

But it kept happening. Every day or two, a ghost would show up to challenge Danny for some reason.

It got to the point where Sam forced Danny to wear a specter deflector at all times for his safety, even though he constantly pouted about not being able to hold her hand or kiss her.

Tucker had rolled his eyes, promised to give him twice as many kisses to make up for it, and then called him a big baby.

Danny immediately started working on a way to make the specter deflector ignore Sam's unique ecto-signature, of course, because he was a sweetheart like that, but he kept getting interrupted by random ghosts showing up and demanding to fight him. Even when they couldn't touch him—either directly, or with ghost powers—they still tried.

It was after school when the three of them were all heading to Sam's house for bowling, that they got any semblance of an explanation.

Another ghost none of them recognized stopped them on the street, but this one was chattier than the others. She had long, flowing blue hair, and shimmering blue skin, and pointed an unnaturally long finger right at Danny.

"I, Mistress Mona, spectral siren, have come to challenge you for the throne of the Infinite Realms," she declared. "Prepare to meet your match, ghost king."

"What?" Danny breathed out, looking more confused than Sam had ever seen him.

The ghost didn't wait for them to ask questions though, she attacked them with a ghostly green wave that appeared out of nowhere, and started to sing.

The trio didn't give her song time to take effect. Danny shot her directly in the throat, silencing her with his perfect marksmanship, and then Sam kicked Mona's butt all the way back to the Ghost Zone. Or into the Fenton Thermos Tucker was holding, anyway.

"Why the hell did she call me the ghost king?" Danny asked. "I'm not the ghost king. The ghost king is Pariah Dark, and he's locked up in the Sarcophagus of Forever sleep."

"I think we're gonna have to take a rain check on bowling, boys," Sam said, turning around to walk back the way they came down the sidewalk. "We're going to the Ghost Zone, and we're gonna get to the bottom of this."

"What?" Tucker complained. "But I wanted to go bowling!"

"Me too, but there's no arguing with her when she gets like this," Danny said with a sigh, and the two of them followed Sam back toward Fenton Works.

Danny's parents were working up in the ops center today, so the lab was empty when the three of them arrived and Tucker went to warm up the specter speeder.

"You alright, Danny?" Sam asked, noticing that he looked a bit jittery.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm fine," he assured her.

He wasn't, but he always pretended none of this affected him. She wasn't sure if it was toxic masculinity making him think he had to be strong all the time and never tell her when he was stressed, or if he just didn't want to process everything he'd been through for some reason, or if his brain genuinely didn't register how much it was affecting him, but whatever the case, she knew she wasn't going to get anything out of him until or unless he wanted to tell her, so she didn't bother to push it.

"You don't have to go, if you don't want to," she told him instead. "I know the last time you were in the Ghost Zone wasn't exactly the best. If you don't want to go, Tucker and I can handle it."

"What? No," Danny said, frowning. "I'm the core of this problem, somehow, I'm not just gonna leave it to you guys to deal with on your own. I want to help."

"Alright," Sam conceded. He did make a good point. "If that's what you want, I won't stop you."

At that moment, Tucker hovered in with the specter speeder and Danny climbed in next to him.

Sam opted to go ghost and follow alongside this time, to more easily talk to people, since it seemed like they were probably going to have to ask around to get the information they were looking for from ghosts that passed.

Danny, however, had to stay in the speeder with the ghost shield active, because there was a good chance that as soon as they got into the Ghost Zone, he'd be swarmed by more foolhardy ghosts trying to fight him for some reason, and unlike Sam, he didn't have ghost powers to protect himself, just his wits and a specter deflector. And to be fair, he'd been doing pretty well on just those so far, but up until now he'd only ever had to fight one ghost at a time.

They stayed in communication via their Fenton-phones.

As expected, once they got into the Ghost Zone, they were approached by ghosts goading Danny to turn of the ghost shield and fight them head on, but they either gave up when they realized he wasn't dumb enough to do that, or Sam chased them off.

It wasn't long however, before Sam found a ghost that wasn't openly belligerent, and approached him. Although his clothes were very old fashioned, he was still recognizable as some kind of farmer.

"Excuse me," she said. "I'm Specter, and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions."

"Oh, of course," said the ghost. "Anything for the new king's general. Unlike those ruffians, I am forever grateful for his majesty saving us from his predecessor's rule."

"Uh... okaayyy, lot to unpack there," Sam said, turning up the receiver on her Fenton-phones so Danny and Tucker would be able to hear what the ghost Farmer said from inside the speeder, "but let's start with: how can Danny be the Ghost King? He's not even a ghost?"

"Doesn't matter mum," the farmer ghost said. "The title of ghost king is won in single combat."

"How does me sniping him from fifty yards away count as single combat?" Danny demanded in her Fenton-phones. "He never even saw my face! He never had the chance to fight back."

Sam relayed the question, as well as Danny's arguments to the farmer, who simply laughed.

"I don't make the rules, mum," he said. "Your friend made the machine that defeated the king, and he alone fired it. That makes him the new king, no ifs, ands, or buts about it."

"But... but..." Danny tried to complain, but he was drowned out by Tucker laughing at him.

Sam bit back a smile.

"What about what you said before about me being the new king's general?" Sam asked. "How does that work?"

"You're the ghost the king trusts to protect him personally, and whose advice on all tactical matters he heeds," the farmer replied. "That makes you his general."

Sam wanted to argue, but she supposed that all of that was technically true. She fought a lot of Danny's ghosts for him—with his help, of course. And when she'd told him to wear a specter deflector, he did, even though he didn't want to.

Ghost king's general, huh? That sounded kind of badass, actually.

"Thank you for your help, sir," she told the ghost.

"Think nothin' of it," he replied.

"This is ridiculous!" Danny grouched. "I can't be the ghost king! I'm not even a ghost!"

"Shoulda thought of that before you sniped Pariah Dark, I guess," Sam teased.

Tucker hadn't stopped laughing at him, and now that she wasn't mid-conversation and trying to keep her cool, Sam laughed too.

[birdhousemp3]

youre so right about p&p vs persuasion and controversial opinion perhaps but i've reread p&p multiple times and i seriously don't get how it's considered romantic at all, it's so clearly dripping in satire/sarcasm and even darcy/elizabeth is so practical and dispassionate a pairing that the shippers come across as like... people who would watch it's always sunny and start waxing poetic about how it's peak romance somehow. also i know elizabeth rejecting darcy's first proposal and mr collins is considered peak feminism by the internet but i actually find p&p deeply conservative compared to persuasion, which makes since considering the latter was written toward the very end of austen's life when she had become even more conscious of women's rights, class, and empire. like persuasion is straight up saying "there's nothing admirable about the gentry as a class, the only things that measure your worth are your actions and character, also i hate slavery and napoleon sucks because empires are all bad" like it makes me wish she had lived longer so i could read her inevitable criticism of future british imperialism.

and of course anne is the only one with a straight up wollstonecraft-like viewpoint, she's the embodiment of women's unseen uncompensated labor and it's so touching that her love interest is the man who NOT ONLY sees and appreciates what she's doing ("no one so proper, so capable as anne!") but also directly shares the labor himself - like doing childcare through taking care of the toddler for anne? noticing when she's exhausted and getting her help without asking? even performing emotional labor by consoling mrs musgrove over the death of her worthless son despite having literally no reason to? peak.

also i think it's not a coincidence that austen described wentworth as a "brilliant," competent sea captain in the midst of the napoleonic wars (epitome of masculinity in those times, and honestly fair like just watch master and commander to see the shit those sailors had to deal with) and yet still emphasized these altruistic "feminine" traits of his, bc navy men were extremely self-sufficient compared to men of the gentry class so they all knew how to cook and sew their own clothes etc with no traditional division of men vs women's labor - when youre at sea you have to do your own laundry! - so together anne and wentworth also kind of transcend gender because they're such perfect equals on every level, whether it be in intellectual ability or their character or even their likes/dislikes (the fact that they even share the same music taste is so crazy to me. "no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison, no countenances so beloved...") so to me persuasion is definitely austen's most radical, compelling, rich, AND romantic novel with an incredible cast of characters that exemplify all those themes (the crofts are literary couple goals). this has been a PSA

omg thank u for this…. ur much more articulate and thoughtful than i could ever be abt persuasion

i feel like the p&p obsession comes mostly from the 2005 film which.. honestly i don’t think is a true or faithful adaptation of the novel. paired also with the new desire to define every piece of media in terms of tropes (ie enemies to lovers that p&p gets reductively described as) that just serve to generalize complex stories especially with austen’s which work so much with subtlety and subtext

anyway ur right and i love you 👍

[swallowedbyfandom]

(Card with bouquet of yellow carnations)

Mr. B. Bridgerton,

After over two decades tied to one man riddled with vices, please be assured I am not in the market for another.

I implore you to never speak to me again. It is not necessary for us to do more than exchange polite greetings.

I rebuke you in the name of Jesus.

Never again,

Lady Featherington

Ben!

Did you take some of Colin's Grecian tea, again? What on earth did you do, to make Portia Featherington send you such a harsh message? Kate and mother literally winced when they saw the floral arrangement!

Did you make some sort of sexual overture at her? I cannot emphasize enough, how bad an idea it would be to take Portia Featherington as a mistress. Can you imagine the horrors Penelope and Colin would inflict on you?

You should avoid mother for a while. Lady Featherington sent her a letter to clear up any confusion. Mother did not share the letter but she was mortified and muttering darkly under her breath after reading it. Be wary, brother.

Wishing you were a civilized being,

Ant

Dear Violet,

I am hoping to clear up any issues before they arise. I AM NOT, I REPEAT, NOT INTERESTED IN TAKING YOUR SECOND SON AS MY PARAMOUR. I am aghast that your ridiculous boy seems to believe I am the sort of Lady who would go around inviting children into my bed! Heavens, the hubris of your son to think a friendly gesture is some sort of covert invitation.

Yesterday I gave your Benedict a pillow the midwives recommended Penelope use after birthing the twins. She had an extra one here. My thought process was that be could use such a thing to ease his discomfort. He kept squirming about his seat when he waited for Colin and the twins to join us for tea. I only meant to be a good host! Your whore son began a long winded spiel on how given his recent injury he did not believe we could possibly perform such an illicit act together. When I politely asked what in all of creation he meant, your son proceeded to wax poetic about such filth. I was forced to flee my own home in sheer horror. It is unspeakable Violet. I do not know what type of people your son has learned such depravity from but I want no part of it.

I have taken six baths and gotten completely foxed thrice and still I cannot rid myself of the shame of hearing such blasphemy. What the hell is wrong with your son? I shall pray for his soul.

Regards,

Portia

Benedict Benjamin Bridgerton,

When I get my hands on you! I shall wash your mouth out with soap. I will not protect you from whatever justified, revenge Lady Featherington is currently plotting. If Portia Featherington of all people deemed something utterly unspeakable, I know whatever you said must be truly appalling.

I feel it only fair to warn you that Portia asked Penelope for Eloise's current mailing address. I am positive you deserve whatever those two are going to plan for you. I s it too much to ask for a single season without scandal? How am I to ever marry you off to a decent lady? If you insist on behaving like a feral Tom cat in heat?

I am sure I will regret asking however, what did you think the pillow meant?

Regretfully,

Your mother

Mother,

This is all an awful misunderstanding. I assumed that if she managed to keep Lord Featherington out of the brothels for a solid decade then she must be more adventurous then she appears. How was I to know she did not realize what her gesture meant?

I am a Gentleman I would never have spoken on such a topic if I knew she was innocent on such things. I would have simply warned her that her gesture had different connotations in certain circles. You must understand that such pillows are often used for recovery after a rather taboo act.

I will apologize and make amends as soon as possible. I am currently going to look at some properties in the country. I am dodging Colin's attempts to avenge Lady Featherington's honor. I will keep in touch.

Love,

Ben

Ben,

You can run but you cannot hide. The longer you drag this out the angrier I shall become. My wife is with child once more, so I cannot be distracted by hunting you down.

Let us handle this quickly and quietly. Name a time and place so that I may punch you in your mouth.The punch is nonnegotiable. You accused my mama of wanting to engage in acts of sodomy with you! You absolute scoundrel. She is our family! There is no earthly reason for you to believe she would ever offer you such a thing!

Disguised with you,

Col

Ant,

Please send me the invoice for the replacement of all of Benedict's trousers, when it comes in. I am ashamed to admit that in a fit of hormonal anger I may have broken into Ben's home and cut the crotch out of every pair of trousers he owns. I am sure his staff will soon discover my misdeeds and send word to you.

Can we please keep this quiet? I am terribly embarrassed to have reacted in such a childish manner.

Shamefaced,

Pen

Sister,

I so adore your mischief. Think of it no more, that is a hilarious prank. I shall have new trousers commissioned but I will leave the altered ones in place so he can discover them himself.

Do not concern yourself with the invoice. Benedict can afford to pay for his lapse in good sense.

Fondly,

Ant

[tideswept]

character breakdown of obi-wan?

How I feel about this character: Benignly positive? I like him and think he's a delight, with some subtle/underlying contradictions that are fun to explore and juxtapose with Anakin. But I suppose that's the crux of this character for me--I like who and what he is when it comes to Anakin. On his own as a character, completely divorced from Anakin, and he low-key becomes just One More Jedi. And all the Jedi are cool in their own way, but I certainly don't see that many people going around waxing poetic about Jocasta.

(Even though she high-key deserves it.)

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Anakin.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: DEX. Yes, yes, yes, I know Quinlan and Qui-Gon are there, BUT SO IS DEXTER. MORE DEX APPRECIATION. Where's our Dex's Diner miniseries?

My unpopular opinion about this character: I fear calling him One More Jedi already will result in my death. Please, if these are the last words you heard from me... remember to erase my browser history. And find homes for my cats.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: could he not have hugged Anakin more as a child? Maybe vibed that the overly invested powerful old man taking his tiny Padawan out to dinner was bad news? I dunno, man. I feel like the signs were there.

[GIVE ME A CHARACTER; and I’ll break their ass down:]

[inner-sakura]

Even Superheroes Need Sunscreen!

Rating: General Audiences Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/M Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Relationships: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng Chapters: 1 of 3 Summary: Two very tired teen heroes + one afternoon nap in the sun = quite possibly the most ridiculous reveal ever. [Or, the one where Ladybug and Chat Noir rely a little too much on their super-suits, Tikki waxes poetic about SPF, and Alya gets the last laugh. And the first. And many subsequent ones as well.]

Read it here

chapter 1: burnout

At last, springtime has come to Paris.  

The sun is shining, the birds are singing…  

“GRAWWWWWWWR!”  

The akuma du jour lets out one final enraged cry, before dissolving in a swirling, malevolent cloud of purple.  

Ladybug gazes on tiredly, the object she’s just purified still crushed under her right foot. When she thinks no one is looking, she gives it an extra stomp for good measure.  

It was the first nice day that Paris had seen in months, and she spent the majority of it chasing after a giant, fire-breathing monster—complete with razor-sharp fangs and a viciously spiked tail that had sent her and Chat Noir careening through the walls of at least thirteen buildings by her final count.  

Mostly Chat though, she thinks, wincing apologetically as she meets her partner’s eyes.  

He tilts his head in confusion as he helps Monarch’s latest victim to their feet, question clear in his gaze. 

All good, LB?  

She nods discreetly, smiling at the young woman who’s glancing between the two of them with a confused sort of awe. 

Once the Miraculous Cure has been cast, and they’ve ascertained that she’s well enough to see herself home, Ladybug and Chat Noir vault away, neither willing nor particularly interested in sticking around much longer to deal with the growing crowd.  

They run side-by-side for a while, vaulting over rooftops and around brick chimneys in silence, until they’re certain the coast is clear.  

“UGH!”  

Chat collapses first, rolling into a somersault as he lands on the roof of an abandoned building. Instead of rising as she’d expected, he remains splayed out on the ground, limbs akimbo.  

“I thought that fight was never gonna end!”  

Grateful for the excuse to give in to her burgeoning exhaustion, Ladybug drops to the ground next to him, trying not to let on just how tired she actually feels.  

She rolls her neck, groaning when it lets out a pop.  

“I know, right? I had to recharge two separate times. I haven’t had to do that in forever! I can’t tell if that means Monarch is getting better at this, or that I’m losing my touch...”  

“Well, it’s definitely not the latter,” Chat snorts, shooting her a sideways look. Ladybug tries her best not to flush at the indirect compliment. She’s only partly successful. “Honestly, I think it was just a lucky break on Monarch’s part. That woman’s sheer pigheadedness could have rivaled even Chloe Bourgeois on a bad day.”  

Ladybug chokes on a laugh, surprised to hear such a jab falling from Chat’s lips. Although occasionally cheeky, her partner was normally much more mild-mannered; polite almost to a fault, even with people Ladybug herself found to be hopelessly annoying. 

Clearly, she wasn’t the only one who was more tired than they were letting on.  

“Aww,” she leans into his space, her hand rising to pet his hair. “Sounds like someone’s a grumpy kitty today. Not getting enough beauty sleep?”  

Chat purses his lips, green eyes narrowing at her teasing.  

“I think we both know that is not the case,” he says archly, gesturing down the length of his body as though to say ‘Uh, hello? Have you seen me?’  

Ladybug’s eyes flick over him briefly, taking in the lean musculature of his torso underneath the black leather; the breadth of his shoulders, and the slim taper of his waist that would have made even the most seasoned of runway models weep with envy.  

Okay, fair point, she acknowledges with a proverbial tip of her hat. Though she’d rather die than admit it aloud.  

Instead, she gives him a conciliatory scratch behind the ears.  

Despite his earlier pique, Chat’s body language is anything but displeased as he leans into her touch, nuzzling the hand currently playing with his hair. After a few increasingly slow blinks, his eyes fall shut and stay that way, a contented smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he basks in the attention.  

Her lips quirk up almost unwittingly in response. 

This cat, honestly…  

Ladybug slowly reclines next to him, propping her head on one fist as she takes the opportunity to examine his profile. 

No, she concludes after several moments. If Chat Noir is losing sleep, it’s not at all apparent in his physical appearance. He’s as handsome as ever, if not more so—his skin and hair practically glowing under the late afternoon sunlight.  

The teenage girl beneath Ladybug’s mask feels a stab of envy at the evenness of his complexion, the length of the blonde eyelashes fanned against his cheeks. Even the glossy shine of his hair is impressive.  

She runs her fingers through his bangs, pushing them back from his forehead. Chat smiles in his sleep, turning toward her like a flower seeking the sun.  

At this point, it’s obvious to Ladybug—and probably to anyone else who has ever beheld him in all of his glory—that Chat Noir needs no assistance in the beauty department.  

If he wasn’t so busy getting thrown through walls by overgrown lizards, battling supervillains, and saving the lives of everyday Parisians, he could have easily been an actor or a model with his looks.   

Ladybug wonders, not for the first time, what kind of life the boy on the other side of Chat Noir’s mask lives. 

But mostly, she wonders what it might be like to touch him without her gloves on. To feel the silkiness of his hair, the warmth of his skin, the softness of the cheeks on which his eyelashes rest.  

Her fingers pause in their ministrations.  

Best not to go there, she thinks, pulling her hand away as she lays down fully beside him. 

The roof tiles are toasty beneath her, the heat seeping into the muscles of her back making it that much more difficult to fight the exhaustion weighing down her eyelids. 

With a jaw-cracking yawn, Ladybug lets her eyes slip closed, enjoying the warm spring sunshine caressing her face.  

A quick power nap sounds like exactly what she needs right now. Especially if it’ll help chase away any more intrusive thoughts about her slumbering partner and his unfair prettiness. 

-x-  

Sometime later. 

“Chat,” Ladybug slurs, fighting the pull of unconsciousness as it tries to drag her back under. She prods at his shoulder. “We shouldn’t—sleep here.”

All she receives for her efforts is a grunt. 

“We could…” Burn, she wants to say. But she’s so comfortable, and Chat’s arm is curled over her waist, and sleep is so pleasantly heavy on her eyelids. 

Surely a few more minutes couldn’t hurt. 

  

-x- 

Even later still.  

Ladybug wakes to an annoyingly high-pitched beeping, sounding uncomfortably close to her head.  

She groans, trying in vain to roll away from the noise.  

Except it keeps following her, blasting into her eardrums with the proximity that could only originate from one source.  

Earrings. Tikki!   

Ladybug bolts upright, squinting blearily as she attempts to get her bearings.  

The first thing she realizes is that the light has shifted significantly since she last opened her eyes; the shadows stretching across the rooftop to nip at her heels, afternoon warmth rapidly giving way to the deepening chill of evening.  

The second realization is that Chat is still stretched out languorously beside her, dead to the world, and they’ve clearly been napping for not minutes but hours, judging by the way the sky has melted into a dazzling array of pinks and oranges and golds. It’s a breathtaking sight, and one that Ladybug normally would have found quite beautiful, if she wasn’t so busy freaking out about Realization Number Three—

Which is that she has maybe thirty seconds, tops, before her transformation unravels around her, taking with it her anonymity, her dignity, and any semblance of relaxation she may have achieved during her impromptu slumber. 

Catapulting to her feet with a lack of finesse that even her superpowers can’t disguise, Ladybug scrambles for the chimney on the other side of the roof, accidentally stomping directly on top of Chat Noir in the process.  

“OOF!” 

She’s just ducking behind the brick wall when his indignant yowling reaches her ears, the magic of her detransformation whooshing over her in a rush. 

“What the heck kind of wakeup call was that?! Seriously, bugaboo, we've got to work on your bedside manner—” Chat pauses, his voice growing concerned when he fails to locate her. “Bugaboo?” 

“I’m over here,” she calls, quickly digging in her purse for her emergency Emergency Snack Stash. “My transformation let up unexpectedly so I need to feed my kwami.”

Tikki harrumphs around a mouthful of macaron, her expression less than pleased.  

“It wouldn’t have been unexpected if you had de-transformed like you were supposed to, instead of falling asleep immediately after a long battle," she snipes. 

Marinette winces apologetically, knowing instinctively that she’ll be making up for this gaff for a while. Most likely in the form of copious amounts of baked goods. Her parents are probably going to think she’s stress eating again.  

Chat’s voice is closer the next time he speaks, although still a respectful distance away in light of her de-Ladybugged state.  

“Looks like we overslept, huh?” She hears the sound of his baton click, followed by a beep. “We were asleep for two hours? You’ve gotta be kitten me!” 

Marinette barely waits for Tikki to swallow her last bite before she mutters her transformation phrase, stepping out from behind the chimney to level Chat with an unimpressed stare.  

“Really, at a time like this? My kwami is going to be giving me shit about this for the next forever and you’re hitting me with reused puns?” 

Chat’s jaw drops.  

“Reused puns?” He appears appalled at the notion. “I would never!” 

He crosses his arms, his expression one of pure indignance. “When have I used that one before?” 

“M. Pigeon 38 and 56,” she rattles off automatically, realizing a beat too late that memorizing every single joke someone has ever told is not the kind of behaviour a Normal Person with Exclusively Platonic Intentions might exhibit. 

For a moment, Chat merely blinks at her. Then, his eyes widened, his face lighting up with glee. 

“My lady, are you blushing?” He sounds delighted by the prospect. 

“What? No.” Ladybug scoffs. “Why would I be blushing?” After all, as Marinette, she’s said far more unfortunate things under far worse circumstances. This inadvertent admission, while embarrassing, was barely a blip on the mortification scale when compared to the world-ending natural disasters she’d been capable of when her crush on Adrien was at its peak. 

Still, Chat seems unconvinced. “Then why are your cheeks that beguiling shade of pink, hm? You can’t fool this cat’s eyes, bugaboo. We have excellent vision, you know.”

Ladybug scowls, turning back to glare at him. Her mouth snaps shut on her retort, however, when she notices that Chat’s skin is pink as well, his cheeks and the tip of his nose a rosy shade of red. 

“Wait, how long did you say we were asleep for?” She flips open her compact, blood draining from her face at the time she sees listed in the upper corner. 

“Chat, we slept for almost two hours! I’m not blushing, I’m sunburnt! And by the looks of it, so are you!” 

Underneath the pink, Chat's face goes ashen. 

“Oh no,” he moans, crumpling into a ball. “This is bad. This is really, really bad.” 

Ladybug falters, taken aback by the intensity of his reaction.

“It’ll be alright, chaton,” she crouches next to him, her hands fluttering uselessly over his shoulders, too confused to even properly offer him comfort. “Just put some calming lotion on it when you go home. Aloe works well in my experience—”

“No, you don’t understand,” his wild green eyes snap up to meet hers. “I am not allowed to get sunburnt. This is a disaster. My Fa—“ here he stumbles, averting his gaze as she helps him to his feet.” —facialist is going to kill me!” 

Ladybug drops his hand, her prior concern completely evaporating. 

“You get facials?” 

Chat looks offended at her disbelief. 

“Of course,” he sniffs. “How else do you think I maintain this youthful glow?” 

Ladybug rolls her eyes, wincing when the action tugs at her inflamed skin. 

“Yeah, yeah. Well, you might want to get inside before that ‘youthful glow’ becomes visible from outer space.”  

Chat sputters.

-x-

When she gets home, Marinette applies every single cream, lotion, and gel in her arsenal to try to bring down the redness in her face.  

And when even that doesn’t work, she calls in the big guns.

-x-

“Oh, Marinette, what have you done to yourself now?” Sabine frets, patting cool lotion onto her cheeks. 

Marinette grimaces, both at the sting of the motion and her own stupidity. 

“Next time you want to lay out in the sun in swimming goggles of all things, at least promise me you’ll wear sunscreen.” 

“Yes, Maman...”

-x-

[skaruresonic]

idw sonic's nonsensical insistence that everyone wants to be good deep down is just stupid.

Everytime he tries asserting this dumb ideology it's with either people who joyfully choose to be evil everytime they have the option (eggman and the deadly six) or people who are literally incapable wanting or contemplating anything other than being evil (metal sonic and surge)

And the funniest part of all this? The one time idw Sonic DOES NOT preach about how everyone could have been good is when Starline dies. Starline the same guy who's biggest crime was an objectively smaller and less cruel version of Eggman's Metal Virus which corrupted/tormented every life form on the planet. According to IDW Sonic, Starline absolutely deserved death but Eggman who's objectively and frequently far worse is secretly a good guy.

This book should have never tried tackling themes of philosophy and free will. It is atrocious at handling the subject

Yeah.

In hindsight, it was rich of people to have spent all this time waxing poetic about how Sonic sees the good in everyone and omg do you want him to butcher his enemies, only to suddenly pull the "why are you feeling bad for Starline? he was a villain" card when it came to his death. Motherfuckers can't even be consistent on who deserves Sonic's compassion. Apparently he's just ~so merciful~ towards his enemies but he also picks and chooses, and it's like? Which is it? Sonic tells Surge he'd have been willing to give even Starline and Eggman a second chance, only to prove his words a bunch of hot air when he eulogizes Starline with "big oof." Because if he really believed that Starline was capable of becoming a better person, surely he'd have lamented the fact that Starline could now no longer change? Even if we examine the situation purely from an in-universe Watsonian perspective, it doesn't make sense for Sonic to be all "lmao rip" because he didn't know Starline well enough to make the judgment call that he was an irredeemable piece of shit. He only met the guy a few times. For all he knew, Starline could have been brainwashed, too.

Eggman, on the other hand, could say "I want to be evil" eight thousand times, no one gives a shit - his puppydog glance in 23 is all the proof Sonic needs to badger him to become "good" again.

Starline? Suffered a nervous breakdown and promptly died in a gruesome way? He was an awful person who had what was coming to him.

Make it make sense, bruh. Pick one.

Of course, as you've said, when you unpack the "Starline had it coming to him" sentiment, you find it really boils down to thinking Starline was somehow a worse villain than Eggman. Which we know to be bunk since Starline stole 90% of his shit from Eggman and doesn't even have a real body count, much less one to match Eggman's. People simply think he was the worse villain because we see the effects of his brainwashing up close and personal in Surge.

Speaking of Surge. :) Don't you love how Sonic essentially dismissed her pain with a shrug and a sigh? Here we have someone who, despite their destructive motivations, is fueled by genuine pain. And yet, because of the aforementioned inability to distinguish nuance, Sonic takes it as another "Guess I gotta whoop your ass until you stop being stupid and shake my hand" case. Which does not help Surge, to put it extremely lightly.

More and more you get the feeling Sonic doesn't care nearly as much as he claims he does, because his actions keep contradicting his words. Everyone is Good Deep Down, except you, Clearly Traumatized Girl. But I guess I'll give you a chance not because I actually believe you deserve one but out of the goodness of my own heart. Aren't I awesome.

The kicker, of course, is that none of this kerfuffle would exist were it not for Flynn's need to answer game questions that don't need to be raised. "Why does Sonic always let Eggman go?" Sonic doesn't really let Eggman go, for one thing; Eggman's good at escaping, for another; and for a third, maybe the games don't tackle this subject because it leads to this particular navel-gazing brand of bullshittery.

Flynn didn't like being called out on this, however. It was when issue 50 and the subsequent discourse rolled around that he decided to derail the subject by deflecting blame onto the audience.

He attempts a deep message, he bungles it, he gets mad when people point out how badly he bungled it, he insists folks should read "more adult material" because Sonic's just for kids anyway and why did you expect intelligent handling of the subject matter from him. When it's like. My brother in Christ, you are the one who brought the moral quandary to our attention to begin with. It's a copout to infantilize people for expecting you to have something to say about it lest you waste our time.

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

Chapter 1: A Long Walk (Wildfires to Rain Storms)

Hey yall! This is the first chapter of my new fic that I am so excited to finally share with you. I'm also trying a new way of posting fics <3

Read on ao3 (3k)

The Emon forest stretches for miles and miles, the landscape full of trees and plains and ponds and rivers. But with such natural beauty comes the risk of fires.

It’s easy for a single blade of dry grass to catch a blaze and it’s even easier for that flame to spread across the entire plain in a matter of minutes. And then to the trees, sending birds fleeing for safety, other critters not far behind them. Dense smoke would fill the air, choking out the sun until all that remains is a thick haze of ash and smoke.

And then the rain would come, a cool summer rain to stop the inferno in its tracks. The ash would turn to soil, the dead trees fall, and things would continue as they were always meant to. Growth. Fire. Rain. Repeating until the end.

It's a comforting cycle to those who understand it. After fire always comes rain. The fire can’t burn forever. The bad times will be over soon. And in its place, new plants will grow.

Vex doesn’t know how much she believes in that metaphor. 

Sometimes the fire only grows worse and worse and worse until there is nothing left but barren land, the wind scattering the ashes and pushing the fire onward. And sometimes rain comes with no fire, with no herald. Sometimes it rains for no good reason at all.

Vex rolls her eyes at herself, a few hours outside of civilization and she’s already waxing poetic. This summer is going to be a long one, no doubt. And yet she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

There’s not a trail this far from civilization. 

What some people don’t realize about hiking trails is that they have to end somewhere, usually there’s a loop or a sign marking the end of the trail, but here there’s nothing, just the dirt path gradually melting back into grass and plant covered ground. 

Taking out her compass, Vex double checks that she’s heading the correct direction before tucking it away with a slight smile. Of course she’s right, she’s always had an impeccable sense of direction.

She takes a long breath of the fresh air, feeling it cleanse the dirty, city air from her lungs. Not for the first time she considers just running into the forest and spending the rest of her days here in the woods with Trinket. 

She looks down at the dog trotting happily at her side, tongue lolling from his mouth. Just like her, he’s always happier out here. There are so many new smells, trails to follow, squirrels to chase. And rivers to jump in. Gods, Vex is already dreading having to give him a bath out here.

The green leaves of summer surround them, shifting playfully in the warm breeze, catching in the sunlight. In the distance she can hear the babbling of the river and chirping birds and the rustling of leaves somewhere to the West.  This far into the wilderness, the sounds of cars and people don’t reach her, and they won’t for three months. 

Vex has been working at fire lookout towers for three years now and she can’t think of a better way to spend the end of summer and fall. Here there aren’t any deadlines or cars hoking or stuffy air or garbage and piss covering the streets. Here it’s just clean air and freedom and so much beautiful land to explore.

Her backpack slung high on her back, Vex walks with a spring in her step, something she only finds deep in the woods. There’s an easy smile on her face as she follows her heading to the lookout tower. 

Her feet tread easily over roots and rocks, mostly thanks to the rather expensive hiking boots Vax bought her for their birthday a few weeks prior. She’s wearing her favorite shorts with plenty of pockets for Trinket’s treats and her compass and on top of that, a tank top and a flannel to keep her skin safe from sunburn despite the heat. And a baseball hat to do the same. This one bears the emblem of her favorite climbing gym.

For the next three months the only contact she’ll have is with whatever poor sod they found to keep lookout in the North tower. 

It’s been a different person all three years and for good reason. The North tower is by far the worst one, it’s poorly taken care of since it’s much more remote. You need to be either a skilled rock climber or willing to walk two hours in the wrong direction to get there. 

But Vex puts off those thoughts, instead reaching for her radio. Vax dropped her off at the trailhead less than a day ago and she’s been hiking for almost that long, having slept on the trail during the night. Now, she knows that she’s about to go out of range of their radios.

So taking a quick break, she sits on a downed log and asks, “Vax, are you there? Over.”

There’s some crackling and then her brother’s voice comes through the shitty radio, “Hey, Stubby, already wanting to turn back?”

Vex chuckles, “As if. I just wanted to let you know that I’m going out of range shortly, I’ll be at the tower by dusk.”

“Alright, Kiki’s working tonight so she’ll be the one to answer when you get there.” Vex can hear the pride in his voice at that. Keyleth worked her ass off to get a job at forest services. “Safe travels, Vex, stay safe. I love you.”

“Love you too, bird brain. See you in October.”

With a click, she turns the radio off and keeps walking with a smile. 

The remainder of the hike, thankfully, goes quickly. Even though she’s done much longer hikes than this, she still feels exhausted by the time the sun begins to set. It’s the sight of the lookout tower in the distance that keeps her going.

It’s an imposing figure, shadowed this way. Its four legs and large room up top make it look almost like some kind of monster, like the ones she used to hear folktales about. Vex shakes her head quickly, those kinds of monsters aren’t real.

She finally arrives at the tower just after sunset, Vex plodding up the steps slowly. The stain has long since worn off the boards, leaving them grey and full of splinters, she knows better than to use the railing. When she gets to the top, after three flights of stairs, she makes her way to the breaker box, flooding the darkness of the night with light.

Despite the tension in her shoulders and the pure exhaustion running through her, she can’t help but relax as she unlocks the rickety door, feeling at home for the first time in months. 

Trinket immediately plods over to the large dog bed by the foot of the bed, makes a single circle, and plops down to sleep. Vex chuckles, dropping her backpack by the door as she walks over to the long range radio on the table. Static fills the room as she tunes it until she reaches the number scrawled on a sticky note beside the radio.

Once she’s locked in, Vex smiles and says, “This is East lookout checking in, over.”

A crackle and then Keyleth’s pleasant voice reaches her, “We hear you, East lookout, did you make the trip alright, over?”

Vex smiles, “A bit slower than expected, but just fine. You better put some dog treats in the next supply drop, Trinket has more than earned them. Over.”

Keyleth laughs, “Noted. Get some rest, check in in the morning for debrief. Over and out.”

With that permission given, Vex sits down on the bed. It’s creaky and lumpy and thin but she loves it all the same. She unties her hiking boots and doesn’t even bother changing into pajamas before curling up under her blankets.

As she lies down, she can’t help but look out the window across from her. In the far distance, she can see the glowing light of the other lookout tower. Despite how far away it is, she finds the presence comforting all the same.

It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep after that.

The morning comes far too quickly for Vex’s liking. The sun beams down on her face and no amount of hiding her face under the blankets will block it out . Vex groans and drags herself out of bed.

Might as well take stock of all her supplies and get ready for the day before radioing to forest services and officially starting her summer.

A quick look through the cabinets tells Vex that the next supply drop should be coming soon, probably before the end of the week since the previous lookout left a few days prior. So she grabs a full bag of granola and shoves a handful of it into her mouth as she gives Trinket his breakfast as well. 

He gobbles it down quickly before returning to his bed and falling back asleep. Vex chuckles, “You poor dear, you’re so exhausted.” She pets his head pitifully before laughing and grabbing a change of clothes before heading down to the showers.

Of course the water is freezing cold and the water pressure is absolute shit so it’s not the most relaxing shower she’s ever had, but it does the job of removing the sweat and dirt from yesterday’s hike.

Once she’s dressed and her hair is braided and she’s back in the tower, she sits down in front of the radio.

“East lookout checking in, good morning, forest services, over.” Vex leans back in her chair, looking out at the forest before her. At this peak of summer it’s still lush and green, but Vex is looking forward to the leaves turning amber and crimson. 

“Good morning, East lookout,” Keyleth greets back cheerfully despite the early hour. An overnight shift for her then, and yet she still sounds just as chipper as always. “There are just two things I need to go over with you. First, North lookout arrived a few weeks ago so reach out to him sometime today and let him know you’ve arrived.”

“Noted, over,” Vex replies. 

“Second, there’s a small fire towards the Southwest, we’re not concerned about it yet, just keep an eye out.” Vex immediately starts taking notes as Keyleth goes over how long the fire has been burning, where it has started, and wind directions. “South lookout has been evacuated just in case. And after this check in this frequency should be kept free for emergencies only. Over.”

“Copy,” Vex responds. “How worried should I be about the fire? Over.”

“We’re not classifying it as a wildfire yet and we’re hopeful some rain will stop the spread or put it out before we have to have it professionally extinguished. Over.”

“Thanks, Keyleth.” Vex smiles after a moment, asking, “Is there anything you can tell me about North lookout? Over.”

Keyleth chuckles, “And ruin the surprise? I’ll let you figure out that enigma for yourself. If you need anything, Vex, don’t hesitate. Over.”

“Will do. Thank you, please tell my idiot brother to stop worrying about me, over and out.” 

Vex drums her fingers against the table, her eyes drifting to the lookout tower to the north. It’s harder to see in the daylight, but she still spots it easily. An enigma, hm? 

In past years, the lookouts have mostly been filled with either no-nonsense rangers or shut-ins who only wanted to communicate if there was a strict need. Perhaps Keyleth calling him an enigma means that there will be conversation to be had with him. Gods she hopes so, especially since they need to keep the frequency clear to forest services frequency.

Checking her watch, she figures she should give the man in the North Tower a bit more time to wake up before reaching out. 

Perfect time for a quick hike. After tying her hiking boots and packing a few supplies, she whistles for Trinket. He bounds over happily, tail already wagging. Vex kneels down as she ruffles his fur, “First hike of the summer, are you ready?”

Trinket plants his paws on her legs and licks up her cheek. She laughs, pushing him away with a groan. “Come on then, Trinket.” She opens the door and the two of them quickly jog down the stairs and set out into the wilderness.

With the early morning sun shining on their faces, Vex and Trinket make their way to one of their favorite spots out here. It’s called Red Run River due to the color of the rocks that line its shores. Though, it’s not much of a river, more of a shallow creek made of mountain snow so it’s always cold. 

Once Trinket figures out where they’re going, he starts sprinting towards it, whining petulantantly when Vex is too slow for him. She laughs at her dog, “You can go ahead, buddy, it’s just right there.” But as always, Trinket refuses to stray far from her side and instead just continues whining about the pace. 

“You know,” Vex tells him, “I’m going to tell Keyleth you’re being a bad sport and then she won’t send you more treats.” As if he can see right through her lie, Trinket huffs and keeps plodding along by her side.

When the river comes into their sight, there is no holding back Trinket any longer. He sprints towards it, leaping into the shallow water and stomping his feet in excitement. He tries to bite at the water spray, not quite understanding why he can’t.

Vex smiles as she sits down at the bank, taking off her shoes and socks to sink her feet into the cold water with a sigh. She can feel the smooth river rocks under her feet and the muck beneath those. Trinket has thankfully scared away any fish from her feet.

Her mind is quiet out here, maybe that’s what she loves about it. That and the lack of service. No clingy ex-boyfriends or uncaring fathers trying to get her attention. Just her and whoever the fuck is in the North tower. It’s with a sigh that Vex remembers him. 

It’s taken them about half an hour to make it here so Vex figures now is as good a time as any to reach out to her neighbor in the North tower before the day gets longer. She takes her radio from her pack.

“North lookout, this is East lookout, come in. Over,” she says, making sure to speak clearly. 

There’s a long pause and she half expects there to be radio silence when a voice crackles through to her, “This is East lookout, I’m here. Over.” It’s a man, her age, posh accent and Vex would probably say wealthy judging by the tone of his voice. Odd. 

“I’m Vex, glad to be spending the summer with you.” The sentiment is false, but might as well start off on a good note. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

“Not at all, I’ve only been alone here for a few days, your predecessor got a late start on his hike back. I’m Percival Frederick-...just Percy, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Did forest services tell you about the wildfire Southwest? Over.”

“Yes, they just said to keep an eye on it. They said they expect rain and that should hopefully stop the spread.” There is a long pause of awkward silence. Soon enough Vex can’t take it anymore, saying, “I’ll let you get back to your morning, just thought I’d introduce myself. Over.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Percy tells her stiffly. “Over and out.”

Vex taps her finger thoughtfully against the plastic exterior of her radio. He’s not what she was expecting. He sounds younger, about her age. And Keyleth called him an enigma. She can’t help but wonder what kinds of secrets he’s hiding, but to be fair, no one chooses this job without at least a dozen secrets. Gods know she has her fair share of them. 

Something to ponder at least, before the summer goes on too long.

She sighs and lays back, dragging her toes through the water as she gazes up at the sun. She is able to all but tune out Trinket playing and just breathes in the fresh air. At least until Trinket bounds out of the river, shaking his thick fur and spraying all over her.

Vex sits up with a gasp, “ Trinket! ” The dog quickly starts wagging his tail and pads over to Vex, shoving his nose under her hand.

“Buddy…” Vex sighs as she starts to pet him. Somehow he’s gotten himself completely wet from head to toe. She sighs, “I’m going to need to rinse you off before you are allowed inside.” As though he understands her words, Trinket whines, resting his head on her knee pitifully. She rolls her eyes, “You're lucky it’s not a bath.”

With sigh, Vex lies back down, this time with her dog’s massive, wet head, resting on her stomach.

As Percy sets down his radio, his hands tremble ever so slightly. He almost told her his name out of instinct. A novice mistake. Hopefully she didn’t notice or forgot. At least she doesn’t have the internet out here, no way to search his name and find all the news stories. 

He sinks down onto the bed, wincing at the creaking sound it makes and repeats the words Keyleth and the police told him over and over, he’s safe out here. There’s no way for anyone to know where he is, no way for anyone to get here without being noticed first. He just has to make it to October and then this whole mess will be over.

Percy sighs at his own thoughts. It will never be over. Even after they’re all rotting in prison, his family will still be dead. He’ll still be alone. 

Against his own will, his eyes drift to the radio. He’s not alone here. The thought is much more comforting than expected. Maybe these months won’t be so unbearable after all.