#but if i’m still struggling i might put the link on here for people to do

[turtletaubwrites]

Sweet Abduction ~ Part 1

Thank you anon for this super cute request! I loved the idea, and I hope you enjoy the fic!

Pairings: Charlotte Katakuri x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4084

Ao3 Link

Summary: Times are tough, and you're afraid you'll have to give up the family business, until you find people who cherish your work. Who knew making doughnuts would gain you the attention of an Emperor of the Sea, and her second son? Will your new life be as sweet as it seemed?

Rating/Warnings: SFW, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Grief, (reader's dad has passed and she thinks about him a lot), Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Kidnapping, Minor Violence (hardly anything, just being grabbed by the arms briefly), Kissing, No Smut, Human/Monster Romance, He's freaking 16 ft tall, Reader is too sweet for this world

A/N: Turns out Katakuri is over 16 ft tall. I stuck with canon, hope you don't mind! Please heed the tags! This is very sweet romance type fluff, but there is some kidnapping and shit, so be wary 😅

Your body naturally woke you in the quiet, early morning light, but you still felt like you were in a bad dream.

After all your years of struggling to get by, of trying to make a living off the only skills you had, you still had nothing. You had kept your dad’s shop running, learning all you could, trying to honor his memory. But now that he’s gone, prepping these early mornings alone felt like losing him all over again.

Especially since hardly anyone in this town could afford to waste their berries on sweets.

Even buying ingredients for one day's batch was brutal.

I’m sorry, dad. I don’t want to sell your shop. Please, I wish you were here to tell me what to do.

You blinked back your tears as you started frying the morning's first batch of doughnuts.

Falling into your rhythm, you glazed and displayed each doughnut with care. Still taking pride in your work, you treated each pastry with love, even though they would probably be wasted. 

You gave a little yelp as the tiny bell on the shop’s door chimed.

Your mouth hung wide as you looked at the two potential customers. Shaking yourself, you greeted them, turning on your customer service charm.

‘The best way to keep a customer is to show them you really care.’

Your dad’s sweet voice filled your mind, and you smiled, genuinely hoping that these people would have a wonderful day. And that if they tried your doughnuts, it might make their day even brighter. 

The two strangers made their way to the display case, reviewing the little menu above the counter, and they asked you detailed questions that surprised you. 

You had been too busy trying to make sense of the colorful, almost outrageous way they dressed, that it took you a second to realize how excited they seemed to be here. 

They can’t be from around here. Everyone here is too poor to be that colorful.

You pinched your wrist at the sour thought, reminding yourself of your dad’s view of the world. He’d tell you to focus on the good things happening right now.

The two customers ordered four doughnuts each, and you carried their plates to the dingy little table in the corner, filling their cups with coffee.

The urge to stare was almost too powerful. It had been so long since someone new came to enjoy your work. 

They smacked their lips, and licked their fingers, and their bright eyes warmed your heart. 

‘There’s nothing better than watching someone enjoy the work you put your heart into.’ 

You cleared your throat, turning away from them as you wiped away a tear at your dad’s words in your mind.

“Ooh, Mama’s gonna enjoy this,” the taller one hissed in a mock whisper.

“Excuse me,” the other patron called, waving you over. 

You wiped flour off your hands, grabbing the pot of coffee. You felt their eyes on you, feeling examined as you refilled their cups.

“Is there anythi–”

“How would you like a sponsorship to open a shop in the sweetest capital of the world?”

“... I’m sorry. What did you–”

The tall one grabbed your wrist, eyes almost manic as he leaned toward you.

“We’re scouts, you see. We’re from Totto Land, and we’ve been looking for someone with your talents. Everything will be taken care of. We already have a doughnut shop that's just waiting for an artist like you.”

Your eyes were so wide it was almost painful, and part of you told you to run from these strangers. 

‘Don’t fight miracles, sweetheart. Sometimes good people really do get good things.’

“Okay,” you stuttered, following your dad’s advice one more time. 

~ 

You had heard the name Big Mom before, seen her wanted poster. She didn’t seem like a real person when you were struggling in your run down town. 

And you thought that Emperors of the Sea were meant to be terrifying, almost demonic. 

But here you were on her archipelago, her myriad of islands filled with so many happy people. So many people who love what you do.

It's surreal! 

You’d been given a doughnut shop on Komugi Island, along with a beautiful apartment above the shop. You wanted to explore and meet people, but you couldn’t think of closing the shop for even a day. 

All the ingredients you could dream of, equipment that you’d never seen before, and a dining area inside and outside with plenty of tables so you could enjoy the happy noises people made when they ate your doughnuts and pastries. 

It was heaven. It felt like your dad was there with you, kneading the dough, pouring the coffee. You could almost hear his laugh, his silly songs that he used to hum.

It felt like home.

After a few days, you noticed that the shop cleared out a little before lunchtime. You had been having a steady stream of customers all day since the day you opened, but now it was empty. You tried to remind yourself that things wouldn’t always be that busy, and that it didn’t mean anything.

I guess I’m just worried, dad. I want to do well here. I want to stay.

You had a pile of plates in one hand as you wiped down a table outside.

“Good afternoon,” boomed a deep voice from above, and your ankle shifted against the stone tiles.

You were slipping, trying and failing to keep a grip on the porcelain plates.

Then a huge, warm hand held you steady, and your mouth gaped at the sight of another gloved hand catching the plates before they fell.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, heart racing.

Shifting away to look at your new patron, you steadied yourself, pressing your palm against the warmth beside you.

Your breath hitched as your hand touched firm leather. You stumbled back a step, and he grabbed your shoulder to steady you, before setting the dishes on the table, and towering over you.

“I apologize. I should have waited until you set down the plates.”

The deep, measured voice made you shiver as you looked up at the man it belonged to. 

He was so tall. Insanely tall.

Is he a giant?

He sat down beside the shop on what you just now realized was a bench, made for someone his size.

Realizing how rude you were being, you cleared your throat, giving him a smile.

“No need to apologize. Thank you so much for saving my plates!”

You dipped your head, letting your eyes go wide as you looked at the ground after getting a better look at him. 

He had deep crimson hair, with eyes to match. Those intense eyes were framed with arched brows, and eyelashes so dark and thick that you could see them from where you were.

You brought your head back up to meet those eyes, and you bobbed on your toes as you tried not to gape at the rest of him. 

You’d never seen anyone like him before. He wore a layered scarf that draped around his shoulders, covering his neck, and the lower half of his face. 

Below the scarf was an expanse of muscle, pink tattoos accentuating his chiseled abs. His leather vest covered nothing, but it matched the leather across the rest of his body, belts, straps, and spikes giving you so much to look at.

Then you looked back at his eyes, and realized you’d been staring.

“I–I am so sorry. I’m new here, and my head is a little off still. Would you like me to bring you a menu?”

He hardly spoke while he was there, but his gaze felt heavy and warm. Thankfully, no one else came by to witness you making a fool out of yourself. 

He made a huge order, and you packed three large boxes to the brim.

Your dad would have been so happy in that moment. You could picture his smile. Practically hear his voice.

‘Look, sweetheart. Your love is gonna touch all those people that eat your sweets. Isn’t that just lovely?’

“Are you afraid?”

“What,” you choked out, quickly brushing a tear from your eye as you thought of your father.

He’d taken the boxes from you after paying, but now his brows were furrowed as he looked down at you.

“Oh my– oh no! I’m sorry,” you panicked, realizing what he meant.

“I wasn’t crying because of– I was just thinking about my dad. He would have been really happy with your order. You picked all his favorites!”

He stiffened, one of his gloved hands flexing on his knee.

Clearing his throat, he stood, his height leaving you speechless again. 

“Thank you, miss. Have a pleasant day.”

“... Th-Thank you! Please, come again soon!”

You were waving at his back, and he froze for a moment at your words. But he kept walking, finally leaving your sight. 

Slumping into one of the chairs, you felt the blood rushing through your body, your head feeling fuzzy after all of that. 

Then a line of customers started trickling back in, and you poured yourself into work. 

What an interesting place this is. 

~

He came back again. And again. And you always forgot to ask for his name. 

He never said much. He always ordered at least three boxes. And you always spaced out as you stared at him at least once before he left. 

Luckily he always seemed to come during a slow hour, catching you cleaning with no other customers to attend to.

You wanted to ask if he liked them. If he liked your dad’s favorite recipes. It seemed like a silly question, since he ordered so many every time.

But you liked his voice, and you thought it would sound really nice if he said it. 

You caught yourself grinning in the mirror at the thought as you got ready for the day.

I think I like it here.

“Good morning, miss Y/N!”

You had just stepped downstairs, morning light still not quite touching the world, but your shop was full of people.

“I… I’m sorry. The shop’s not open yet. But I’m happy to share my pot of coffee with you if you’re willing to wait on the doughnuts!”

You felt extra grateful that you’d dressed for the day before coming downstairs.

“Thank you dear, but you’ll be coming with us.”

A tall, thin woman moved toward you, a rough scar bisecting her face, and you clenched your fist to stop yourself from recoiling. It was too damn early for someone who looked like a gnarled old witch to break in and threaten you.

Is she threatening me?

“Sorry, uh,” you said awkwardly as you moved behind the counter. “I’ve got a lot of doughnuts to get started for the day.”

“Not today, sweetie,” the witch-like woman said, her reddish nose bobbing as she shook her head.

“I don’t– Did I do something wrong?”

You shrank back against the wall as guards moved against you, gripping your arms.

“Not at all,” the woman nearly shrieked, failing to sound comforting. “In fact, you are being granted the highest of honors. You are about to become part of Big Mom’s family!”

You had been squirming only slightly, not really fighting against the men holding and moving you. But now you slumped, confusion hurting your brain too much to keep steady.

“What do you mean? What’s happening,” you asked, panic building in your throat the closer they got you to the door. 

“You have been chosen to wed the shining star of the Charlotte family. Our strongest warrior, a man whose back has never touched the ground. My perfect big brother, Charlotte Katakuri!”

Your mouth hung open as she continued, her voice manic, louder with each word. She may as well have been speaking another language. 

She pointed a long, twig-like arm at you, and you tried to clear your head to understand.

“You can call me Brulee, sister in law. Tomorrow you will become Charlotte Y/N.” 

You stood, frozen and dizzy.

“Come now, lots to do, sister,” she tutted, snapping her fingers.

“But why? Why me?”

She reared on you, her red nose inches from yours.

“You’re special, of course. You were chosen. And you’d better learn not to question Mama.”

“Please,” you pleaded, twisting against the guard's hold. “I don’t–”

“Don’t question mama! And don’t even think about refusing her.”

The guards tightened their grip, leading you toward the door.

“Wait!”

“Don’t res—”

“Please change the sign! Please let my customers know I’ll be gone, I don’t want them to wait out there for me.”

Brulee frowned at you, but had one of the guards write a note, hanging it on the door.

“Thank you,” you sighed with relief, giving her a grateful smile.

She frowned again.

You didn’t resist, and the guards let you walk freely. You felt the stares of citizens on you, and watched a group of onlookers waving as the ship departed for the main island. 

Whole Cake Island. 

It was incredible. The sounds, the colors, the smells! Excited locals rushing around, as if preparing for something big. 

Like a wedding.

Brulee spent the travel time regaling you with stories of her brother. 

The second son of the Big Mom Pirates. One of the Three Sweet Commanders. The Minister of Flour who governs over your new home, Komugi Island.

“When he was born he stood straight up, and slept on a chair. His back has never touched the ground. He’s never laid down, and never been knocked down either.”

“That sounds tiring,” you muttered under your breath, but she turned, grasping your wrist.

“Not to my brother. He’s more than strong. He’s superhuman. He’s noble, and cool-headed. And you are going to be the perfect wife for my perfect brother. Got it?”

“I-I got it.”

She released your arm, and you tried to fight your nerves, but you couldn’t stop shaking. 

You were led through a massive castle that looked like, or was it a cake? The ceilings were so massive, you had to crane your neck to see them.

Brulee left the guards outside, leading you into a gorgeous bedroom, with an extravagant bathroom, and at least ten servants carrying all sorts of fabrics, powders, shoes, and more. 

You felt like you were in a whirlwind, just staying still and letting these strangers touch you, pamper you, fit the white dress to your body.

Now and then you’d pay attention to what they were saying between their giggles and demands. 

“She’s so lucky.” 

“I wish I could join the family.”

“I wonder if his children will be as perfect as he is?”

Finally, you were freed from their hands. Dinner was brought to your guarded room, and you watched the night fall.

You curled up in the luxurious bed, and sobbed silently. You caught yourself whispering under the blankets, eyes burning as you tried to make sense of it all.

“Dad, I’m sorry. I’m trying to see the good here. But I’m scared. I love this place. I love making people smile. But what if this man… What if my husband is a bad person? What if he’s mean? What if he doesn’t like me?”

Visions of terror filled your mind. If they could kidnap you for this, could they really be good people? This land seems so happy and prosperous, could this marriage be a good thing?

“Is this a miracle, dad? Should I let it happen, and hope for the best?” 

“Will they kill me if I try to run?” 

“I’m scared, dad. I wish you were here.”

Finally, your quiet sobs fell into slow breaths as sleep pulled you under.

Morning arrived, and the servants were buzzing with excitement as they prepared you for the wedding. You felt empty, hollow. They kept pinching your cheeks lightly, trying to wake you up, to convince you to be happy.

All you could manage was a weak smile as you looked at your reflection.

“You look beautiful, sister,” Brulee praised, patting your hand. “It’s almost time.”

She led you to a massive stone room, guiding you to a small bench before leaning over you. 

“Just wait here. It won't be long.”

She left, and you didn't turn to watch her go. You thought about running. There were no guards in this chamber. 

You bit your lip to keep from crying, afraid of what might happen to you if you ruined your makeup.

“Y/N…”

A choked gasp left your throat as you turned, looking for the owner of that deep voice.

Your favorite customer was there, his height looking almost normal in this massive room. He sat along the wall on a giant bench, leaning toward you.

“Oh, hello,” you practically squeaked, throat caught with unshed tears. “What are you doing here? I’m sorry I couldn’t make your order today!”

“Please,” he stopped you, holding out his gloved hands. You blinked at him, noticing that his normally black attire was white, somehow making his hair and tattoos stand out even more.

“What are you…”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have let this happen.” 

“Let what happen,” you asked, your mind moving so fast it felt like it was tripping over itself. You stood without meaning to, walking closer.

“You were brought to my island as a gift. For me.”

His dark eyes poured over you as you stood, silently waiting.

“I shouldn’t have told mama that I liked you. I tried to convince her to stop, but there’s no way to stop this without violence now. And I cannot hurt my family.”

Violence? 

Your heart beat in your chest like a bird, wings flapping desperately to escape a cage. 

“Mama is a decisive woman. When she makes her mind up on something, it will happen. I am usually the one to make it happen. Most of my siblings have their marriages arranged. I didn't…”

Regret tinged his voice, and you met his eyes.

“Why me?”

He looked away, sighing as he leaned back against the wall.

“My siblings brought you to my island because they thought I would enjoy your doughnuts. I happened to mention how much I’ve enjoyed your work, and your… company. So Mama has decided that you’ll be joining the family. That you and I will marry. In less than an hour.”

You’d never heard him say so many words at once, and his voice rolled over you while you tried to comprehend everything. Your mouth hung open as you stared at him.

“You must be frightened.”

He shifted on the bench, looking almost uncomfortable before he caught himself. He adjusted the movement, making it look deliberate. But you noticed.

He’s just a person.

“I think having a first date might have been nice,” you teased with a small smile. 

He stared down at you for a long moment, before his brows furrowed.

“You shouldn’t have to marry a monster.” 

“What do you mean,” you questioned, starting to feel lightheaded from everything.

“When we kiss, it will be over…”

“We’ll be married?” 

“No.”

You hadn’t thought his eyes could get any more intense, but they sure did. You stood, still as a statue, waiting for him to explain. 

“There’s something I have to show you.” 

Katakuri unraveled his scarf, slowly revealing the lower half of his face.

Your eyes went wide at the sight of his large mouth, scars stretching from ear to ear. Sharp teeth or fangs jutted out at the edges of his lips. 

Your first thought was that he did look like a monster.

‘You can’t tell somebody’s heart from the outside, sweetheart. Always give people a chance.’

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, after you stood there too long, thinking of your dad’s voice.

You watched those huge hands start to drape the scarf, looking away from you as he covered his scars.

“Wait,” you commanded, voice almost too loud in the echoing room. You reached up to put your hand on his knee, shoving aside a brief thought about how things would work with his height.

“Will you be kind to me?” 

He paused his movements, face still uncovered. Your whole body rolled with warm shivers as he laid his hand on yours.

“I will be kind to you. And I will protect you.” 

“And you’ll tell me how much you like my doughnuts?”

An almost surprised huff left him, and you were pleasantly shocked to see his wide lips twitch up, a hint of a smile there. 

“I love your doughnuts. They make me very happy.” 

Your toes curled in your shoes as you grinned up at him

“Okay,” you nodded, dread shifting to excitement. “I guess we’re getting married then? Please, promise to be kind.” 

“I promise,” he agreed, head tilted as he looked at you, before wrapping his scarf back around. 

You were practically bouncing on your feet now, and your words came out high and fast.

“So, your name is Katakuri?”

“Yes.”

“Is it true you never lie on your back?”

“We’ll learn a lot of interesting things about each other later,” he promised, voice low as he patted you on the head.

“Right now we have somewhere to be.”

There were so many people. So much food, so many sweets. 

Big Mom was enormous, even taller than Katakuri. All of her children looked so different, so interesting. 

Everyone seemed happy.

I’ll choose to be happy too, dad. I just wish you were here with me.

The ceremony and vows flew by, and luckily you remembered what to say. Then the end arrived, and you realized that you didn’t know what to do.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may start your marriage with a kiss!”

How am I supposed to kiss him?

Your question was answered as his large hand scooped down beside you. Looking into his face, you could have sworn he was smiling by the slight crinkling of his eyes.

A giggle left your lips as you nodded, and you gasped as he grabbed you gently around the waist, lifting you up.

You heard the cheers of his family as he turned away from the crowd, keeping his face from their sight.

“I am sorry, Y/N.”

His whisper made your heart ache for this strange man. He seemed so lonely, even with all of his family looking up to him. 

Maybe neither of us have to be lonely anymore.

You touched a hand to his cheekbone, and he seemed to freeze.

“Don’t be sorry, Katakuri. Let’s just be good to each other.”

You felt a hum move through him before he carefully pulled his scarf down, just enough, just for you.

He’s so big!

That thought hit you again, but you’d already decided. You were already his. You leaned forward, and kissed him between the sharp fangs at the edges of his mouth.

His lips were warm, and soft, and sweet.

You let out a hum of contentment, wiggling slightly in his grasp. He pulled back, covering his face, then he stared at you. 

“Hi,” you said softly, feeling your skin flush as you felt suddenly shy.

“Oh mama, mama,” Big Mom laughed, making him turn to face the party.

“My family is getting bigger and bigger! What a wonderful day. Let’s start with the cake!”

~

Katakuri didn’t join in on the fun, sitting on the edge as if keeping watch over his own wedding. Everytime you tried to talk to him, new in-laws would drag you away, light conversations and laughter hogging the day. 

Finally, you were ushered away, waving back at the crowd as your husband joined you. 

Instead of a carriage, you were carried away from your wedding on Katakuri’s shoulder, adjusting the scarf so that it would stay in place. 

A procession of onlookers applauded, calling his name. You even heard your own name once or twice. It felt like the entire island was cheering for you, and you were caught in the chaos of a world you never could have imagined. 

Your mind started racing as the wedding was over, the real world starting to return. A million questions tore through you, and you didn’t know where to start, until one came tumbling out.

“How are we going to sleep if you never lay on your back?”

He let out a sound that could have been a laugh as he kept moving toward your new home. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll show you.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Once again, I'm so happy to take requests! I probably wouldn't have thought to write for this big guy, but now I love this lil doughnut man. He's so sweet 😭😭 (Let me know if I should write the honeymoon... 😳)

Tag List: @shewrites02

Part 2

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

[traumasurvivors]

I wrote a blog post about how harmful it can be to have your emotions invalidated growing up. It's here if you want to check it out! I'll paste the text below the read more for people who don't like links, but if you're comfortable, I really appreciate getting hits on my site! It feels really validating after all the work I've put into it. I've opted to not have any ads or anything to monetize my site, so it isn't like those annoying clickbait articles.

The effects of having our emotions invalidated while we’re growing up isn’t talked about enough and it can have lasting effects. This can happen when people say things like “you don’t know real struggles” when a younger person is upset about something they’re struggling with. This might include being told “I’ll give you something to cry about” which implied that the reason you were crying then “wasn’t a big enough reason”. Other people may have had to deal with “worse” problems and so we were told to be thankful for what we had because of what other children experienced. Your feelings of sadness, frustration, disappointment or anger were still real and valid. And you were allowed those feelings.

You may have been told to “stop being so sensitive,” which taught that you weren’t tough enough. You may have also been told “it builds character” which may have made you feel that you had to find a positive lesson in every bad thing you experienced. This can also be part of how people invalidate the seriousness of abuse, and other things that happened to you that were someone else’s fault. If someone doesn’t want to take responsibility, they may minimize what happened to you. They may say it’s okay because “they didn’t mean to do it” or “they don’t know any better,” perhaps because of abuse they went through. Your feelings may be invalidated because someone wants you to “let it go.” How serious they feel it was, or the reasons it happened, are not reasons that your feelings should be ignored or disregarded. Your feelings are valid. You should never have to “let it go.” 

These things that we were told, and many more, taught us that our emotions were bad and wrong. It likely felt invalidating. It may have been damaging And it probably affects how we see the emotions of others. I’ve had people say similar things to me now that I’m an adult, and I think it’s likely they do it because they were told things like these when they were younger, too. Over time, this has led to me invalidating my own feelings. I’ve told myself I should be strong and to avoid such feelings, or that the reasons for them weren’t “big enough”. I told myself that others had it worse than me, therefore I wasn’t allowed to be upset. None of these things helped me. Instead, they actually made me worse off. I bottled stuff up and then began using unhealthy coping methods to deal with the emotions. Having our emotions invalidated as we grow up can be traumatizing in its own way. It also doesn’t teach us how to effectively deal with and process our negative emotions. This can lead to people having fits of uncontrollable rage, spirals of depression and guilt, substance abuse to avoid feelings, and any number of other unhealthy reactions that can cause us more harm and prolong everything or make it worse.

Being unable to cope with my feelings was a big part of me not being able to cope with conflict in my relationships. Downplaying any “bad” thing that happened and ignoring it meant, for instance, I wouldn’t point out and deal with a small (sometimes completely unintentional) mistake. Instead, I let my feelings build without communicating about them and let my resentment build. By the time I acknowledged and spoke about my feelings, the problem was a thousand times worse than it would have been if I had dealt with it quickly. And sometimes it was too late to fix the damage done.

It’s not too late to learn and do better. You don’t have to be thankful it wasn’t “worse”. You don’t have to find a silver lining. While it’s important not to get stuck in our feelings long-term, sitting with them and feeling them and acknowledging you aren’t okay is okay! It’s okay to think something sucks or that it wasn’t fair. It’s okay to feel frustrated or sad over “small” things. Sometimes we don’t even understand why a situation or something has left us having such big feelings, and that’s okay, too! Your feelings are real and valid, even if they don’t make sense to you. And you deserve patience and compassion. Especially from yourself.

When you have negative feelings, if you find yourself minimizing them, or telling yourself why you don’t have a right to feel them, stop and try to be aware of what you’re doing. And allow yourself to feel it if you can. I've often had to remind myself that while it is uncomfortable, I can be uncomfortable and sit with my feelings. Think about if there’s a healthy response you can have to those feelings. For instance, if someone said something hurtful to you, talking to them about it might be a lot more productive than acting like you don’t care. Your feelings are valid. And invalidating them yourself is unlikely to be good for you.

Try to remember that, and try to be kind to yourself.

[blindbeta]

Ok i don’t know if you’re doing asks right now but I’d honestly like to ask about a character in a murder mystery/fantasy story I have and I’m not sure if they align with any negative blind stereotypes or if it’s something I should avoid altogether even if it’s not a stereotype.

To start, my character (let’s call him B) has JOAG (juvenile open angle glaucoma) and has tunnel vision. He also relies on a cane and braille. He also takes medication for his condition ( I was thinking carbonic anhydrase inhibitors or beta blockers but I still need to dig deeper into that.)

I was thinking of having a blind main character (and blind side characters too). He has a tsundere/ojo-sama personality (rude on the outside, sweet on the inside type of guy) and water powers. I know that there is a bit of a pattern with rude or defensive blind characters and I feel unsure about whether or not I should add that into my story. I thought of him being apprehensive of one of the other main characters because he doesn’t know them personally and isn’t a huge fan of change. He slowly warms up to the other character but he struggles to do so. He helps the rest of the other characters in solving the mysteries and tries to think as logically as he can but sometimes his bias slips in every now and then.

Onto his powers, I was thinking of him having the ability to control water. I was also think about having him have an interest in potion-making and his spell books being written in mostly braille because he relays on braille the most.

He has a few hobbies and interests such as going on picnics, siren singing/just singing in general, drinking tea and organizing his stuff. (Apologies if this is a lot, I love rambling about my characters lol).

That’s all I have for this character at the moment. I hope nothing in this ask was offensive or anything. You don’t have to answer this if something in this post came off as rude or offensive. Thank you for your time!!!

Avoiding Rude or Defensive Blind Characters— Explore It and Add More Blind Characters to Show Different Personalities

It sounds like everything is in order right now. The only concern I have is addressing the rude/defensive thing you brought up.

I’ll admit, I actually enjoy this type of blind character. It falls a bit into Disabled Snarker trope, which I love. I feel these characters tend to be viewed as having more agency than blind people are typically believed to possess.

It also allows us a bit of fantasy escapism.

Typically, blind people aren’t allowed to express the level of snark that these characters are. This is because we are expected to lack desires of our own, be excessively passive, and to not complain even when we are wronged. An example of this would be blind people being told they did something incorrectly when they are denied services, or were ungrateful when refuse help they don’t need.

Here is a video where Sadi on Tiktok laments her rideshare troubles caused by bigoted drivers. Link here.

Here is one where she discusses being grabbed by a stranger. Link here. And another where she expresses her frustration with the dismissal she faces when she speaks about being treated inappropriately. Link here.

Here is one by Tobes, who describes accidentally running into cars that are parked on the sidewalk and being scolded for it despite that fact he had no reason to believe a car would be parked that way. Link here.

We are often considered rude because of ableism. Additionally, we often have to be stern and stubborn just to get through the day and this can be perceived as rude by others.

You could have him use this attitude in areas other than blindness or only when provoked in an obvious way. Having a cool attitude that others find intimidating or unapproachable might be a way to go about this.

Or he could still put someone in their place for being ableist and this actually might be a refreshing fantasy for a lot us who can’t always call out ableism the way we want to. To me, people are going to think blind people are rude no matter what we do. This means most of us, especially those of us marginalized in multiple ways, are forced to police our tone or reactions in frustrating ways, even when someone is being harmful toward us or openly oppressive.

Sometimes it’s fun to see a blind character who responds in a way that is proportional to the ableism being directed at them.

I am not sure if you can go against this stereotype one your own, because again, some people will see blind people as rude no matter what. This is in direct opposition to the idea that blind people are all innocent beings without agency. These two opposing stereotypes of blind people are very strong and I know from experience that it is difficult not to be put into one of these boxes. He may deliberately display an aggressive attitude in an attempt to gain some agency over how he is perceived. Conversely, he might be defensive or rude about everything, while being chill about blindness stuff or even ableist attitudes. Instead, he could become colder, distant, or emotionally cut the ableist person off. He could also be like Toph and react to personal or structural ableism with jokes.

Basically, it’s good to be concerned about this, but I think commenting on/exploring it would be a better option. Subverting the trope is also challenging because it might accidentally cause him to be put into another box. Therefore, it might be more helpful to explore it for him personally, giving him more depth and challenging the idea that all blind people are naturally rude for “no reason. [Quotes around “no reason” to indicate sarcasm.]

Personally, I want to see blind characters having agency, depth, a community, and using mobility aids and blindness techniques. So I’m okay with this. The story might still benefit from a sensitivity reader or two though, and I’d love to read it myself. You can also try @sensitivityreaders

Lastly, having other blind characters would help challenge any stereotypes readers might have. In addition to showing his sweet side mentioned in the ask. Sorry I couldn’t give you a yes or no answer on this topic, but my personal go-to fix for stereotypes is always to show more blind characters. This allows you to show off more personality types of experiences around blindness.

Also JOAG can be painful if not caught early or managed properly. You seem to have done a good job of showing treatment options and different conditions. There will be a lot of medical stuff in his future/present, which means he has experience advocating for himself. This could also help explain why his attitude might seem rude or defensive to abled characters, in addition to the Rude Blind Person stereotype.

If any other blind or disabled folks have thoughts or suggestions, please share.

In closing, I don’t have any concerns with his powers. Also points for cane use!

Some parts of this ask might be relevant as well. Link here.

Hope this helps.

-BlindBeta

[stilljuststardust]

I’m a 15 years old girl and my parents are very homophobic

Today my mom made me sat down because she thinks that I wanna turn into a boy and she told me for my old sis to also come downstairs to talk about it cause they found it weird mind you they’re very religious

After my big sis came downstairs my mom started talking about how I act like a boy when I’m a girl also that God made me a girl so why would I try to change into a girl and also said that if I keep acting like this she would take all my electronics

And send me somewhere else where I won’t see her and my siblings ever again

I’m crying so much because I did everything to change myself to become normal like others straight but nothing works and I found out that I want to be a boy I tried everything like manifesting being a man nothing it working and circumstances keeps getting worse and worse till the point it making me depressed like maybe I’m stuck this way maybe I will never be a man

I’m so scared cause she said if I don’t change I will not have access to phone I’m having a bad breakdown rn idk what to do anymore I’m so lost

But part of me still believes I’m a man no matter what

Hello, before I give you LOA advice let's talk

You ARE a man. You are a man. You are a man.

You are a man no matter what.

You don't have to do anything to be a man. It's who you are deep down in the pit of your soul. You already are a man.

Not just in an LOA sense, I'm saying this from a non-manifesting perspective: you are not a girl.

You will never be a girl, you never were. Do you understand that? Who you are as a person is a man.

I'm like you.

It's ok to be a trans. Being trans is normal. Half my friends are trans, I'm trans. You aren't alone, you aren't the only one. There is nothing wrong with you.

Firstly I would like to say, always always always prioritize your safety and well-being.

I know it's easier said than done but the closet exists for a reason. It keeps us safe. Do not come out if it would put you in danger. You do not have to be out to be valid.

I hate that my advice is to fawn and pretend to be something you're not, but its safest sometimes.

It feels so far away now, but there will be a time when you are free to be who you are. You will find people who support you. You will find people who are like you. When I was in your place 18 felt so far away and unreachable, but it's not. Freedom will come. Please hold on.

Link to The Trevor project. (Councilors and hotline for queer people who are struggling mentally)

Loa

At the end there will be a handful of LOA posts I think you should read/you might be interested in + subliminals for you. The most important one in my opinion being the one I list first.

The law gets over complicated alot. At the end of the day it boils down to this.

An assumption, though false, if persisted in will harden into fact.

An assumption being something you accept as the truth without needing evidence and persistence meaning you assume regardless of what the 3D shows you.

Essentially, you decide you have your desire and you are stubborn in that decision.

It's ok to feel intense emotions, it's ok to be scared and hurt and frustrated, you just have to assume that no matter what the physical world shows you you are undeniably biologically male.

There is no more advice to give, there is only the law. Assume, affirm, persist.

The posts

How I manifested my dream life with extremely hard circumstances (blushydior)

If it's too long a read (seriously I think you should read the whole thing either way) here's the parts I thought would benefit you the most

What you need to know about loa

How to ignore the 3D

Nothing is true until you decide it is

It's ok to feel like shit

Loa checklist

Subliminals and affirmation tapes

Revise past negative events

Desired body

Mind over matter

It's done

Your desire is a fact

I keep getting results

If you need motivation

@loasuccessarchive

[the-wip-project]

SloMo WriNo: Setting Word Count Goals

For your SlowMo Wrimo the first thing to decide is your daily word count goals. And as Mo the Wrino says, they need to be achievable.

My initial promise was that you can write a complete novel in a year. When I say that I’m talking somewhere in the vicinity of 70-80k, which is in the zone for most YA, Romance and Mystery. Fantasy and Science Fiction can run longer, but if you’re writing in those two genres I’m going to encourage you to aim for a word count on the lower end of things, just to keep it doable within 12 months.

Now anyone with a calculator can see that if you divide 80k by 365 you get 219. 

So if you write 219 words every day then presto, you’ve written your novel!

Which is true! But I don’t think it’s reasonable to assume it’s possible to write every single day, with no days off for an entire year. I know some writers do manage that long term, (or at least claim to!) but if you’ve been struggling to get words out, it’s not an achievable plan.

Instead I want you to create a series of Mini-Maxi goals.

That is, have a baseline minimum, but also hold yourself to a maximum allowed. This is a term drawn from construction standards. 

For example, if you’re hanging drywall, there are rules in building codes about how many screws are required per sheet. The lower limit makes intuitive sense to most people. Yes of course when you hang something from a wall there should be a minimum amount of screws. You need enough to keep that thing in place.

But there is also often an upper limit. If you put in too many screws, you will compromise the structural integrity of the drywall, or even the wood framing behind it.

So how does that apply to writing? 

The idea of setting a minimum word count goal is pretty widely understood. That’s usually the method most people go into Nano with. A plan to write a minimum of 1667 words a day. 

For many people that’s hard enough to reach, let alone exceed, so the idea of maximums doesn’t really enter the picture.

However for this challenge I want you to commit to a far lower daily word count, something you can accomplish in fifteen to twenty minutes. Because even if your schedule is very busy, writing for fifteen minutes most days is achievable.

But that begs the question. What if it’s Sunday afternoon and I have a few hours to write! Oh joy! I shall binge write several thousand words!

Here's the problem with that. Overdo it and we’re back with the same burnout and creative exhaustion issues that brought you here in the first place.

So I want you all to set a safe maximum word count too. 

My recommendation is that you go no higher than around 5x your daily minimum. Or approximately what you can write in 1:15 to 1:30 hours.

But what if, you say, what if, after that alarm goes off at 1:30, my brain is still teeming with ideas?

Good! Make some brief outlining notes and then go do something else! You will be all the more refreshed and excited to write tomorrow.

The goal here isn’t to wring every drop out of your creative well in a single session, but to create a long term writing practice.

Like that piece of drywall, you don’t want to compromise your overall creativity by overdoing things.

So, to summarize, your task for today is to select a comfortable minimum daily word count, (an amount you can easily write in 15-20 minutes) and a safe maximum binge-writing word count. (5x your minimum)

If you don’t know how fast you write, do a series of timed sessions over the next few days, and find out. You might be surprised at how much you get done in a short focused session.

Coming up next: Managing your writing time, taking breaks, and sticking with it for a whole year.

Maree

P. S. If you'd like to join the challenge, make a post! use the tag #slomowrino. If have any questions, please shoot us an Ask either here or on the discord.

Links: SloMo Wrino Intro The Discord Server

[hollygl125]

I don’t really have words for how I’m feeling right now. I keep cycling between, “Okay, I know how I need to proceed” and “OMGF, how could this happen???!!!” There is the logical truth, and then there is the emotional/moral truth, and I am struggling.

Logically, I know the rational steps are (1) to find something good I can do for the world (or at least a few of the people in it), to fight the good fight, etc. and (2) to make sure I retain a place for my own happiness and joy.

Obviously it’s hard to do the latter right now, when really I just want to walk into the sea (but not actually). So I keep cycling through these two modes every five minutes or so, and I thought it might be helpful to put these thoughts in writing.

I’ve never really been the grassroots/community organizer type. I’ve always been interested in politics at the top levels. But I think right now trying to get involved in something at a community level is the only thing that makes sense, both in terms of what I can do and in terms of giving myself an increased sense of community and solidarity.

I know I need to find joy in the things that bring me joy, even if it’s hard, partly because to let them strip us of joy is to lay down in defeat and partly just because the human body and mind cannot tolerate constant misery (says the girl on a multi-year mental health break caused by ADHD burnout and anxiety).

(On the night of the election I started reading Timothy Snyder’s On Tyranny, which I have owned for ages but—like many of the excessive number of books in my possession—never read, and its first lesson is “Do not obey in advance.” I should probably finish reading it.)

Over the preceding few years, The Characters (TM) and Tumblr and fanfic and GIF-making have been my escape from my own personal anxieties, and one of the things with which I was struggling yesterday (though obviously not the most significant overall) was how to reconcile the thing that brings me joy with the horrors that surround me. Sometimes I fear that when I am at peak anxiety the horrors will overrun the joy and ruin my happy place for me. The joy of finally (re)marrying off The Characters (TM), for example, seems incongruous with the horrors all around us.

But, I remind myself, people have always needed art, and people have always needed writing, and people have always needed escape, and people have always needed joy.

So I guess what I’m saying is that I will continue to use this as one of my escapes and one of my sources of joy—and to hope that maybe what I share can also provide a bit of that for someone else—but also to be mindful of the fact that I need to think about what I can be doing at this stage to create change in the real world.

I spoke with my therapist the day before the election (realizing that actually I might need her more the day after), and she told me about C-I-A, which means thinking about what we can actually control, influence, and affect. As someone who tends to start feeling responsible for large-scale events I couldn’t possibly control, this was a helpful framing for me! So I am going to do some more thinking on what I can actually control (my own actions, etc.) as well as what I can be doing to affect consequences or to exert influence (however small!) outside myself.

Under the cut I’m putting links to some other posts/sentiments I’ve found helpful, but first I’ll mention two more things:

1. Ballot curing is still taking place! This could affect control of the House! You can volunteer to help with ballot curing, and I have compiled some links here.

2. A favourite MLK Jr. quotation: “Injustice everywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” So keep fighting the good fight, wherever you are.

Sending hugs to all who need them. 💙

Some advice and inspiration:

The quotations engraved at the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial, for anyone who needs some inspiration while contemplating what they can do to make sure the moral arc of the universe bends back towards justice.

This post from @vegawriters on getting involved and coalition-building.

This article on what to do next, which I have still only skimmed, but the opening is wise:

The key to taking effective action in a Trump world is to avoid perpetuating the autocrat’s goals of fear, isolation, exhaustion, and disorientation.

This Bluesky post on not giving up on your creative projects, no matter how “silly” they may seem right now. They bring you joy. They may bring someone else joy, too; they may remind someone else they aren’t alone. But, regardless, if they help you survive another day, they have value.

This Bluesky post on doing the small things that can make a difference.

This statement by AOC: “One day at a time. One choice at a time. Regimes and autocracies are taken down by billions of drops of small actions that would otherwise be invisible.”

This line from Jonathan Larson: “The opposite of war isn’t peace. It’s creation.”

I would love to know what is keeping everyone else going right now!

[copperbadge]

Hi Sam! I’m really interested in what you said about taking an adderall before socializing so that you don’t have to spend the next several days agonizing about the awkward shit you said. I’ve never heard anyone talk about that as a benefit before.

Is it because taking it makes you less likely to say the awkward shit at all? Or because it just makes you less likely to fixate on it later? I mean, either way sounds pretty good, I’m just curious and intrigued.

Yeah, it's pretty fascinating. I'm going to try to put this in coherent order but there is a lot going on here, so let's start with the disclaimer that a lot of this is anecdotal or based in casual research, so I don't have sources to cite, but you should be able to google and explore for yourself.

SHORT VERSION: Adderall doesn't alter my behavior, at least as far as I can tell; it might somewhat inhibit my bad habit of interrupting, but that’s not why I take it. I take it because it prevents me from reacting emotionally to awkward moments in a social situation or remembering those moments later. The result is that instead of thinking "Oh, that thing I did was super awkward" and obsessing over it, when it probably wasn't awkward and if it was nobody remembers it anyway, I just don't have any strong emotion attached to it so I don't remember and feel bad about it later.

It's like if the color red constantly burned your eyes, and you could take a drug that would turn down the saturation. You still see the color, but now you see it the way everyone else sees it, and it doesn't hurt anymore.

The long version is...more complex, but I'm including it because I want to talk about why this maybe happens.

The reason I have such fraught emotions surrounding socializing is that I have Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, which is a common aspect of ADHD. It's not the only reason one might obsessively relive embarrassing moments, but if you have ADHD, RSD is the likely cause. RSD is linked to poor emotional regulation which derives from a deficiency in executive function. So this whole family of ADHD symptoms -- poor focus, poor short-term memory, time blindness -- all come from a basic failure of executive function, and so does RSD. And luckily for me, my poor executive function can be treated with stimulants (some people, even people with ADHD, don’t respond well to them). 

Even though RSD seems dissimilar to other aspects of ADHD, because the stimulant addresses a neurological root cause, anything stemming from that cause is, to some degree, alleviated by the medication. 

RSD can manifest in various ways. I'm generally fine when I'm present in a social situation, but I struggle to resolve shame and anxiety around past behavior. I have spent a lot of time worrying that people who, let's be clear, I know love and respect me, have finally had enough of me and something I said or did was the last straw. I know intellectually this is not the case and I have spent my adult life striving to remind myself of that so that I don’t come off as a needy creep who constantly has to be reassured of other peoples’ affections. Emotionally, however, I was incapable of reconciling these memories. They just hung around in my brain, causing me a lot of pain and regret.

So there’s a chain reaction of saying something, realizing it may have been somewhere between "slightly weird" and "deeply upsetting", and encoding it in my memory with strong emotions of shame and fear attached to it. I then involuntarily relive those memories and the emotions attached to them afterward -- usually only for a few days, but depending on the event, sometimes off and on for years. I suspect this derives from our very early ancestors, who had to hard-code dangerous situations into their memories so if they encountered them again they'd recognize them as dangerous. My brain simply encodes every social interaction as having a fairly high level of danger. This situation is fucking life-threatening, don't go near one again or you'll feel like this forever. Except in my case "this situation" is not dangerous, it's just a dinner party with friends or a meeting with a colleague or a first date. 

It seems that the Adderall switches off that instinct to categorize social interaction as inherently dangerous by allowing me to regulate my emotions. If I’m not feeling fear in the moment -- because there’s no reason to be afraid! -- then my brain doesn’t categorize the moment as dangerous, and won’t remember it negatively later. I won’t really remember it at all. So my memories go from “A dinner party where I said three terrible things that I feel shame over” to “A dinner party where I had some really nice conversations.” Do I remember the conversations? Not in detail, and that’s fine. That’s how memory is supposed to work. 

And now, because I know if I take an Adderall half an hour before a party starts I won’t feel shame or fear after the party ends, I’m even more capable of relaxing and enjoying myself, meaning I’m even less likely to feel negative emotions that would cause me to remember things with shame later. I just thought shame was a price you paid for socializing; I knew the amount I felt wasn’t right, but I thought everyone else just put up with some amount of it. But no, it turns out when your brain isn’t constantly looking for a fucking lion trying to eat you in the middle of cocktail hour, the reason people go out and socialize is that it’s...fun to do. And it turns out when I’m not subconsciously terrified that I’m about to be drowned in quicksand, I actually form fond and positive memories of things. 

Which is a little wild to be experiencing for the first time at the age of 43, but better late than never. And it means that while I still struggle a great deal with emotional intimacy, I’m much, much more capable of maintaining social contacts and deepening friendships because my friends can see and talk to me face-to-face and I can enjoy my time with them more. 

[bellaxgiornata]

hiiii

this might seem like a bit of a weird ask, but you seem super nice and i thought it would be okay if i asked you ! (also sorry if this is long)

i’ve been part of the daredevil fandom for a long time and i’ve been writing about dd for over a year and a half now. before i was writing for this fandom, i wrote fanfic about an entirely different genre for like 10+ years. when i was in the other fandom i wrote exclusively on wattpad, and i made a lot of online friends and was a part of writing communities and it made the experience so much better ! but since i changed directions (and started posting on ao3 first and wattpad second) i’ve had a hard time getting into the dd community.

i’m still new to using tumblr for fanfic so i haven’t posted anything of mine here/ followed many writers here (and i’m working on that !). but i was wondering if you had any advice on how to start chitchatting with other people in the fandom ? it feels super cringy for me to be like “i love your work, maybe you’d like mine !” bc i don’t want people to think i’m just trying to promote myself (i promise i’m not). but i miss being involved in online writing communities. it was one of my favorite things in the other fandom and now i’m struggling to find a place here. i try to respond to comments and have reached out to one or two writers before but it didn’t really go anywhere /:

so, tldr; do you have any advice on getting into the writing community/ making friends in the daredevil fandom ?

(and side note i love your work and have been reading your stuff almost as long as i’ve been writing— i’ve reread FFTD so many times and CANNOT WAIT for more updates on TDAYW and ATY !)

thank you !! sorry again this was so long

Hey friend!! This is actually a really great question that I'm sure you're not alone in wondering about! I definitely agree with you though, making friends in the fandom makes the experience so much more enjoyable. I used to write on FFN until I took a couple of years break from fanfic when I was in grad school. I had never made friends in fandom back then because I hadn't found communities and ways to accomplish that via FFN. Even when I came back to fic on AO3 and shortly after I started writing for Matt, I hadn't made friends right off the bat. But I always tried to respond to comments on my stories which is when I started to realize how fun the community was.

My answer is going to be long, so I'm going to put it below the cut! Also anyone else here reading this, if you have tips for making friends, please feel free to share them!!

Honestly tumblr I think is the way to go for making friendships. I have never used wattpad so I can't speak to the way it is set up, but AO3 doesn't quite allow for that too well because we can only communicate via comments. Tumblr gives so many more opportunities to meet lots of others and comment or send messages or share others' content with reblogs.

It's totally not necessary to share your stories on here, but I think that does help. Or to maybe even just promote your updates on your other platforms with links. Because it gives people an opportunity to come here and talk about your stories with you. But I think content creators, whatever you're making, probably make friends a little easier because we are providing something for others to (hopefully) interact with and consume.

As for reaching out to others, I cannot speak to how everyone would react because I know we all have different boundaries, but I think commenting/comment reblogging regularly on writer's or artist's work that you like is a good start. Or sending friendly messages or asks to someone. Just always be sure to be friendly and respectful.

I personally tend to notice the people I'm always seeing chatting in my notifications and then have made friends that way. It just seems like a natural progression if you're often talking to some people, conversations start to shift outside of just that content. Maybe to the show and then to other things. It's how I also tend to interact with others on here in order to make friends; commenting and sharing their work, sending asks or participating in their events, sending a message with something nice in it.

Though I agree, I think your initial comments to someone shouldn't be something about coming to read your work because it feels pressuring. I had a negative experience with that and didn't know how to handle that when I first got into the fandom and it made me uncomfortable because I never want to be rude or hurtful. So instead, maybe find ways to relate as a writer if you see them talking about writing in general, or other ways to make a comment that mentions that you also write. If they have time and want to read your work they will! And if not, that's okay too! I personally have a growing list of TBR and I mean nothing offensive if I can't get to someone's work, I just personally don't have as much time to read for example.

For me, I just sort of fell into making friends on here because of my writing. And I met so many other talented artists because of that and I've become "fans" of them as well and have had friendships form that way. And it's not just content creators, I've made friends with many wonderful people in the community who are reading my works too! It's fun to chat and dissect the show or to relate about other things (I'm a mom and have met other lovely moms here).

So my advice is to just keep reaching out and talking to people! Some conversations might lead somewhere and some might not. And that's okay! Everyone is different. I personally think the Daredevil fandom as a whole is absolutely amazing and full of wonderful and talented individuals who are more often than not open to making friends ❤️ I always am!

And like I said above, for anyone that has any other tips, please feel free to add them!

(And thank you so much!!! ❤️ I'm so glad you enjoy those stories!!)

[disabilityreminders]

Here’s a post I wrote on some tips to help with hygiene care.

Remember that not being able to take care of your hygiene does not affect your worth! You are still worthy, even when you aren’t able to do the things you need/want to do.

If you don’t want to open an external link, I’ve pasted this post below the read more!

If the acts of having a shower, brushing your teeth or washing your face seem extra daunting, draining or just outright impossible sometimes, you are not alone.

There are no magic fixes, but here are some tips that might be useful to you.

Brushing Your Teeth

Brushing your teeth may seem like it will take far more energy than you can even imagine having in the moment! And that’s so valid. The thing to remember is that it is usually better to ditch the regular “rules” and do what is manageable than to just do nothing. Some things that help me:

Keeping a toothbrush and toothpaste in the shower. I find it so much easier to brush my teeth while I’m already in the shower with the water running.

Brushing for 30 seconds is better than for no time at all! You don’t have to do the entire two minutes. When I’m not able to brush for two minutes, I just start by brushing at all and seeing how long I can manage.

If you can afford it, an electric toothbrush can help.

You can brush your teeth with water! No, really. It does more for your teeth than not brushing at all. Dampen your toothbrush with a bit of water and brush your teeth if you think you can do that!

For those who don’t like flossing, the disposable floss sticks might help! You don’t need to measure out the floss and twist it like you do the regular floss.

If you have someone at home willing to help you, you can get their assistance! For some people, the act of getting the toothbrush ready is the exhausting part, maybe there's someone that will do all the before steps for you and then just put the toothbrush into your hand so you can just focus on brushing.

Having a Shower

I don’t know about you, but having a shower is the most daunting task there is for me. It is so exhausting to even think about. Here are some ideas to make it easier.

Prepare for the After

For me, it’s what happens after the shower that is draining. It makes it a bit easier for me to get my clothes ready, have my towel laid out, and anything else I need.

Have Products you Love

There are so many different scented soaps, body washes, shampoos and other products for the bath and shower these days. I have found that my favourite smelling body wash is so nice, and there’s a part of me that wants to shower just to use it.

Don’t Focus on Washing Yourself.

This sounds weird, but hear me out a bit. Focusing on it as a task we have to do may make it more exhausting. It might sound silly, but for me, I imagine the shower is a waterfall or rain that is “washing away” some of my bad thoughts, feelings and helping me lighten the load. I focus on turning it into a calm experience.

You can also just focus on standing in the water, and not actually washing yourself. It will clean you more than not showering at all, and is likely to help you feel more clean!

If Showering is Made More Difficult By Physical Issues

Some of us find chronic pain, issues with flexibility or other physical limitations can make showering difficult. This might be because it is hard to stay standing long enough for a full shower or because you have a hard time reaching certain parts of your body, just to name two of the many possible issues you might have.

If this is the case, there are a lot of potential aids and tools that might help you. For instance, shower stools are a really great tool. Sitting may seem less painful and less draining than standing. Long-handled shower brushes also exist and can help if you struggle with flexibility. A detachable shower head may be more accessible for you to use if you don’t have one already.

Washing your Face

Some of us have a detailed facial care routine. These sorts of routines may include several products specifically made for cleaning the face or a whole process for moisturising. We may believe these routines are absolutely necessary to keep our faces healthy. These can seem even more necessary and become even more intense if we regularly wear makeup.

While these routines may be very good for our skin, they also may seem draining and daunting, especially on mornings when we feel like we barely have the energy to get out of bed or nights when we aren’t sure how we’re still awake.

If you don’t have the energy for your full facial care routine, that’s okay. If you can figure out a few steps that are the most important and seem more doable for you, try limiting yourself to those on your low-energy days. If even that seems like too much, it’s okay to drop the process completely and just wash your face with a cleanser and a cloth, or even just water. There are also pre-done facial wipes that you can quickly use to cleanse your face.

Doing something is better than doing nothing, and you might be surprised by how it helps you feel cleaner and better to just splash water on your face, even without doing anything more.

(Also, it's completely valid to just take a damp cloth to wipe your face. You'd be amazed at how much that can help!)

Tips for All of the Above

Seek Support

For me, sometimes I call a friend and stay on the phone with them until I actually get in the shower. This can help in the “pre shower” ritual and make it seem less intimidating. I have also kept a friend on the phone while I brushed my teeth and washed my face.

An alternative is that sometimes I find a friend who also finds the act of showering or brushing their teeth super draining, and we make a pact to do it at the same time and then we text each other when it’s time and both go do what we need to do. We then come back and text each other and tell each other “good job!” This works like an accountability buddy and it makes me feel more motivated and less lonely.

Play Some Music

I find that playing music helps, especially if it’s music that makes me feel a bit pumped up. Something with a good beat might work well to time with brushing of your teeth or wiping of your face. There are bluetooth speakers and headphones that are shower friendly as well!

Focus on One Step at a Time

I find the whole idea of showering and/or brushing my teeth exhausting. There are so many steps to showering, such as getting undressed, getting the water on, washing my hair, and so on... I find that sometimes it can help to just focus on one step at a time and not the whole picture. What do I need to do first? For me, I need to turn the water on because it takes a few minutes to heat up. So I’ll focus on one thing at that moment, just turning the water on. That’s all I have to do. And then I go from there and see if I can work my way through the steps without looking at the “big” picture.

Alternatives to Help Feel Clean

Some days, we just can’t do it. And that’s okay! Here are some alternatives to help you feel clean:

Wash your face

Brush your hair

Use dry shampoo

Use body lotion

Change your clothes

Get some baby wipes or other wipes to use

Have a bath! (You can use a bath bomb, bubble bath, or something similar to make it feel pampering instead of like a task. When taking a bath it is much easier to put on an audio book, or even a show to keep you occupied).

Use some mouth wash

Remember that not being able to take care of your hygiene does not affect your worth! You are still worthy, even when you aren’t able to do the things you need/want to do.

If you have any tips, please feel free to share!

[nczaversnick]

Project Gemini Intro Post🔥

Disclaimer: This book is still being written so any information here is subject to change

Title: Deviant

Series: The Zodiacs Book 1

Genre: YA Dystopian

Tags: Enemies to Lovers, found family, dystopian, queer romance, hell queer people in general

I’m hella new to the idea of tagging my story so apologies if I don’t really know what to tag my story with/I do it wrong

If you liked… you might like this: The Lunar Chronicles, Arc of a Scythe, Uglies, The House of the Scorpion, The Red Queen Series

Trigger warnings: This story deals with an oppressive government which includes things like police brutality, gaslighting, mental and physical abuse, and general violence as well as PTSD

Would rate PG-13 ish? Uncertain.

Synopsis:

Deviants are born different.

Caspian is a deviant. More than anything he wants to be a doctor. But the laws against deviants prevent him from being able to take on medical training beyond being a nurse.

Adrian is a deviant. He has spent his entire life struggling under the weight of government expectations and military power. He has spent the last five years conspiring with others to put an end to deviant oppression.

When an accident at the hospital gets Caspian arrested, he is thrown headfirst into Adrian’s revolution and must decide what really matters to him.

Important Links

[🚧under construction 🚧]

Main Cast

World Info

The Zodiacs

Chapter 1 (Tumblr)

Chapters 1-5 (Google Docs)

Chapters 1-5 (Wattpad)

General Project Gemini Tags:

@honeybewrites @the-letterbox-archives @the-golden-comet @the-ellia-west @yourpenpaldee (comment or message to be +/- from this list)

[mooniekive]

Slow Burn | four (preview + link)

Pairing: min yoongi x reader 

AU: neighbors!au | producer!yooongi and teacher reader | they both identify as bi, and reader is aspec (grey-sexual/demi-romantic)

Genre: slow burn, kind of slice of life | fluff, angst

Word Count: 773 words (preview) | 9.3k (chapter)

Warnings: kissing/making out, kind of detailed mentions of food, sickness (unrelated to food), a lot of fluff

Synopsis: 

When one of your best friends and neighbors moves in with his partner, you’re surprised to have a quiet (and attractive) man move in next door. His protective nature intrigues you, and his looks pull you in with a magnetism so unfamiliar to you.

Min Yoongi is so used to being on his own that when he moves into a new place, and into an existing little found family, he’s forced out of his little box. He has no other choice but to finally allow himself to want. To want what he always desired — a place and people to comfortably exist with. 

Preview under cut, or read on ao3

Yoongi follows you to your apartment, hands still intertwined even as you both struggle to get your outdoor shoes off and slip into some house slippers, laughing as you both hop around and almost trip. 

His mind is still reeling when you start pulling him further into your apartment. He can’t believe he’s holding your hand, and that he kissed you. He fucking kissed you. And it was amazing. Yoongi can still feel how your lips melted against his, how your tongue brushed against his with so much want. 

When he was making his way to the roof earlier today, he had no idea his day would end like this. Never would have imagined he’d get to hold you in his arms and call you his.

You are though, and as he follows you into your bedroom, he hears his brain go haywire, mine mine mine, finally. 

Bokshil is curled up on the bed when you both enter, but he immediately stands and stretches after glancing at the intruders. 

“Good boy,” you whisper as you reach to scratch under Bokshil’s chin. 

Yoongi feels a tingly feeling in the pit of his stomach at hearing you say those words, but he shakes his head and pushes any unwanted thoughts that might want to cross that line past his sanity far, far away. 

“Let me put the blanket away,” you say to him when you let go of his hand and turn to face him. 

He hands it wordlessly as he looks around your room. He can count on one hand the times he’s been in here, and it was mainly to get you to come out of your room. A mattress rests on a wooden base between the bathroom door and closet — where you head. A desk on the adjacent corner, a window beside it open that looks out onto the skyline. A vanity table and mirror against the wall in front of the bed. There’s a bookshelf to the right of the bedroom door, so he turns to peruse it. 

There’s some teaching books, as well as regular fiction and non-fiction novels. They look well taken care of and organized neatly by genre. 

The bedroom smells like you, and Yoongi smiles at the fact that he can be in here. He thought it would take a long time before the two of you could be close again. 

A sound like scattering pebbles goes off somewhere outside the bedroom and Bokshil chirps before he bounds off. 

“Automated feeding machine,” you offer as you make your way back to Yoongi. “It’s new but he loves it already,” you muse. 

Yoongi smiles, “That’s cute.” 

You look around your bedroom like it’s the first time you’re seeing it. “You’re here,” you whisper, but the smile you give him makes any anxiety that might’ve appeared at your statement immediately dissipate. 

He wants to respect your boundaries, and he knows that if you didn’t want him here you’d say so. “I am…” he trails off as he moves to stand close to you, naturally feeling the need to. 

Yoongi touches your arm gingerly, his fingertips moving down the expanse of your forearm until he’s holding your hand again. It feels warm and right. 

You squeeze his hand and step closer, “Wanna order food? I’m kind of hungry.” 

Yoongi nods and points over to your bed so you can both sit. You take out your phone and look at Yoongi expectantly. 

“Pizza?” you ask.

“Sounds good,” he says, but before he can tell you what he’d like you’re already whispering as you open up the app. 

“Pan pizza, marinara sauce, meat lovers?” you say. 

Yoongi grins, squeezes your hand, and gives you a nod. 

“Just so you know, I won’t be kissing you after dinner.” 

The seriousness of your tone makes Yoongi laugh loudly, and the fond look in your eyes makes a warmth spread through his body. “Noted,” he says. 

He watches you make the rest of the order, then you drop your phone beside you on the bed and turn to look at Yoongi. Really look at him. His skin feels the heat of your gaze as it moves from his legs — where his pants tighten around his thighs — all the way up to where he pushes hair behind his ears. Yoongi raises an expectant brow, trying his best to hide the electric current currently moving up his spine. He squeezes your fingers once more. 

“Wanna make out?” 

Your words cause a breathy laugh to escape him, almost making him choke in his own saliva. “My gosh, don’t do that to me,” he laughs, but pulls you in. 

read more on ao3

[pandorafallz]

Vampire AU | Chapter 37

“You let them go?”         

“Yes, Sir.”

“Did you not do anything to stop their escape?”

In all honesty, Mansk should have known that a simple report wouldn’t surffice with Selfridge. Colonel Quaritch probably would have taken to trip to come to him rather than pull him back to Hell’s Gate but the demand had come in a few hours after sunrise that he was to return to hell’s Gate for a full debrief.

He knew why; this was the first major breach of security since the defectors gunned their way out. Either he’d talk his way out or he’d lose his position at Frontier West. His position was only currently temporary and he was well aware he was replaceable.

Watching Selfridge go various shades of pink was both pitiful and amusing but he held up his position and tone well in his answers like a mature adult watching a child wind up to a tantrum.

“By the time people on the ground saw anything suspicious, the ship was already in the air. It took a few minutes to have the air turrets online but I decided it would be better to let them go and retrieve them alive than simply resort to killing those women.” Mansk explained calmly.

“Why’d it take a few minutes? The turrets are there for a reason and should be ready to use at a moment’s notice!” Selfridge seethed.

“They’re an outdated model, Hell’s Gate shipped them off to the west when we got ours upgraded. Cheaper.” Quaritch answered, not having spoken much aside from the continued heavy stares. “Having them on at low power is customary but I read the report they were offline for maintenance. One of the quads is an engineer so they could have got the schedule quite easily.” A light defence. Enough that Mansk wanted to believe that Quaritch was more in his court than Selfridges.

“Security of Frontier West is struggling without more staff, sir,” Mansk added, turning his head towards Quaritch to address more; it was his area here after all. “SecOps staff that were running patrols were… found to have had some drugs in their system which caused them to be late to their post. Laxatives.”

Quaritch wrinkled his nose.

“Where were you when this all happened?” Selfridge again spoke.

“In my office. I was looking through ground reports of the Kinglor forest for the SciOps groups with Walker. The few men are still adapting to a new forest. New risks. The SciOps and avatar teams have been very helpful in keeping them alive, sir.”

Selfridge let out a very high-pitched huff of frustration. “You should have just shot them out of the air.”

Quaritch’s eyes narrowed, finally turning his attention to the short, sweaty man. “No. Mansk made the right call. While it was a breach of security, the quads did no lasting harm and only stole relatively little in comparison to others.”

“Little?! They stole an avatar.”

“I said little, not cheap.” Quaritch corrected. “I won’t be the one to remind you how expensive the avatars are. Either way, it was a loss but Mansk is right that we can still reclaim the avatar and stolen goods when we get them back. We can’t claim back burned-out machinery and corpses.”

Selfridge’s face looked a little stupid as his cheeks turned pinker at the reminder. A few veins looked to be more pronounced at his temple.

“Sir, I’m still looking into the reasons why they could have left. Would you like me to give you any data we have?” Mansk suggested.

The colonel’s attention turned back to him before he nodded. “Alright, might as well add it to the pile.”

“Sir, I’ve complied everything onto this,” from his pocket he pulled out the thumb drive and held it out to Colonel Quaritch. “I downloaded copies of security footage, personnel files, logs, work files and more reports from the incident, including the medical reports. Most of you already have but I kept them in for document context. Since I had the time, I added reference links.”

Quaritch gave nothing away as he took the drive and put it straight into his pocket. “Thank you. You’re dismissed. I’ll speak to you later.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mansk didn’t wait around, just strolled around and left both the office and the command station. However, he did keep his ears out on his superiors.

“You can’t be serious!” Selfridge scoffed, “You’re taking his side in this?”

“His side? Mansk made the right call, Parker. It’s one thing to protect the base and to prevent loss but another to authorise shooting a ship out of the air that not got its weapons hot or an active threat. Hell’s Gate is only allowed to use bullets to prevent the escape of Samson or vehicles since the death of Dr Harper and his avatar team from turrets. That also applies to Frontier West.”

“Those tree-hugging traitors turned on us, we did what we had to do.”

Quaritch hummed, not too committal on that. “Harper and his team were traitors and they should have been brought in to face justice. Prison, not execution.”

There was a moment of pause.

“Doesn’t matter now.” Selfridge waved him off. “Just…. go and clear up Mansk’s mess. When Augustine gets here, tell her to help given it's two of hers.”

Mansk stopped listening from then as he made his way through SecOps’s building though he smelt the familiar scent of Dr Maze as he the crossover zones of the departments. Hallways to the mess. He spotted her easily, hovering against the wall with her tablet, looking busy with data though she subtly stole a glance his way and then took to the mess hall first.

He took her hint to follow. It was well after lunch so the mess was quieter but not empty. It was only ever empty at night until 4 am when the night shift went for food and bed. It was mostly MineOps, a few SciOps and some SecOps. One person from MedOps. There was loud chatter from the MineOps table but he ignored their topic to grab a tray and let the cooks give him what was left over.

He nodded thanks. Maze was sitting alone with her tablet at a far table, a table distance away from the SecOps group whose table was full and thankfully, he wasn’t noticed. He did however seat the far side and furthest from Maze.

“I’m surprised you’re here so soon.” He remarked a little dryly, his voice low to not be overheard but with the loud chatter, he wasn’t worried. Everyone was engrossed with their own thing. “Couldn’t give me thirty minutes to get reacquainted with the base?”

Maze snorted softly. “I’m your eyes and ears for a reason since you took Kamath and Walker with ya.”

“Hm.” Mansk hummed in soft agreement. “What’s changed?” he picked up his knife and fork to look busy with his food.

“A few things. Henrik’s getting Quaritch’s attention now. He’s got her running prisoner oversight until the next shuttle arrives. She’s standing out.” The note of concern in her voice wasn’t missed.

“Where is she now?”

“Running a shift with the mine patrols, Shen’s out there with Hale looking over new security for us,” Maze explained, gently cutting what looked like some rehydrated Tarpis meat into tiny little slithers that would make a neuroscientist proud. “Again, we can work with it but… there’s been talk between Selfridge and a few of the other SecOps. Remember the IVS Destiny?”

“Yes,” Mansk knew that name very well. “It went off course after a collision, presumed to have broken up into nothing three years ago.”

“Not anymore.” Maze said, “The ships heading towards Pandora, I can’t be sure of dates but…it’ll be here soon. We don’t know if the passengers are still alive so… bare that in mind. We all know the waivers we signed. That said, The Doc will wanna know.”

Mansk frowned behind his sunglasses but she had a good point. An unexpected news and possibilities… not one he was comfortable with either. Three years was short in passing for him but also, a lot had happened in the last three years in the vampire department that he didn’t have when he had made that deal so long ago.

He did have to talk to the doc and before he had to return to Frontier West.

“Damn.”

“Not thrilled?”

“Nope.” Mansk threw his napkin over his plate to cover the mush that had been steadily made and pushed about. “Another mouth to feed.”

Maze hummed. “I suppose but… we have to figure something out. Augustine needs the bags more than the rest of us.”

Indeed. He was well aware but it meant they’d have to use their hunting ground a lot more. It was going to be a strain. Socorro and Hale were a little past their first year as vampires, Hendrik was a little under but the first year was the hardest in dealing with feeding cravings and other urges. Socorro was more compromised with tending to the baby’s needs which siphoned a lot off her physically so he did expect the pilot to be behind. Hale on the other hand had adapted well. Thrived even as a vampire. Shen could tend to Hendrik’s urges quite well which worked out well for them all.

But Augustine did lack a full base of people to go for when bags were unviable. With so few humans and more attention, they had to consider the risks.

The Hunting Lodge on the Upper Plains was a simple outpost, still run by a skeleton crew but it was still a small base. A single vampire could operate with relaxed discretion there if he suggested utilising the outpost as a SciOps facility. If he moved Molly up there, they’d have an avatar to help any negotiations with the Na’vi clan and she’d be far closer to Daniel than she was currently.

Tempting thought. It’s opened up a spot here for a new mouth to feed.

“I’ll talk to the Doc now.”

-

It was no surprise to locate Dr Solis in his office, the familiar scent of cigar smoke hanging in the air and the familiar song of Oye Cómo Va echoed in the background and the soft thumping of the man’s stylus against the desk to the tempo and humming the tune as he worked.

Mansk knocked softly on the door, waiting before he heard the man’s voice to enter. Dr Juan Solis was a tall doctor, sandy-brown skill with short black hair that was neat and swept up from ups face. He had a very defined jawline and a short, stubble-based beard. However, Juan looked a little more tired than he expected to see and looked to be doing some paperwork on a few patients.

The moment Mansk stepped in, the casual glance turned ridged before he hurriedly reached over to his desk and turned off his music from his monitor.

“What do I have to lie about now?” Juan asked immediately, heart rate spiking “Or do you need something? More blood bags?”

“No, no. I’m not here about that.” Mansk assured, taking off his sunglasses to put the man at ease. Solis was always uneasy not seeing people’s gaze. “Business is related but… nothing we need from you.”

Juan paused before he relaxed a fraction. “What do you want then?”

There was a moment of hesitation as he tried to…compose what to say. This wasn’t going to be easy but he promised to honour. “Maze has overheard Selfridge and other higher-ups that…the IVS Destiny was located.”

The sharp inhale was unmistakable. Juan’s hand went into the collar of his open, button-up shirt pulling out the silver cross and rubbed his thumb up and down the metal in a soothing motion, taking a few steady breaths to quickly ground himself with soft prayer in Spanish.

“You’re sure.”

“Maze’s can’t confirm passenger survival,” Mansk said, being a little blunt but honest. He couldn’t promise the doctor that. “If the passengers are alive, that means our deal we made over a decade ago is still valid.”

Juan’s thumb paused, “Adan could be alive.” He straightened up considerably, taking a second to stare thoughtfully at the photo frame his desk had. “He could live.”

“It is possible.” He allowed, “But until we hear more, don’t get your hopes up. RDA prioritises cargo over passengers when there are faults in the system.”

Juan’s eye twitched, his nails coming to clink anxiously across his desk. “If he is alive… you’d follow through?”

“We had an agreement. Your aid with us and we save your child through turning. I will honour that.” Mansk allowed.

Juan’s thumb rubbed at the crucifix again, taking a few shallow breaths. “W-what If he doesn’t want it?”

Mansk cocked his head, a little curiously. “You getting cold feet, doc?”

Juan gave him a sour look, brown eyes almost glaring but lacking the sharp energy. “No. What happened with Augustine two years ago… you didn’t give her a choice. I know the last three were brought in to be saved from injuries. But Shen was forced into it too. Adan doesn’t know the deal I made to get him here. I had to pay so many people to avoid putting his condition on file… ”

“Let’s not get too ahead, Juan.” Mansk offered before the doc could spiral. “Right now, the IVS isn’t even in orbit yet. I can’t be around for the details but Maze or Hale are your best bet for answers. If you want me to respect his wishes I will but I leave that up to you to make that call.”

Juan nodded slowly, letting go of his cross and sat back. “I’ll think about it.”

“See, I’ve got to go. See my old squad and check in with Augustine when she gets here. It’s been a while since I last checked in on you so, is there anything we should be aware of? New developments in the department?”

It was a subtle change to the doctor’s expression, an eye dart to the left and purse of his lips gave headway of a second of hesitation that sold it out immediately. The uptake of his heart also picked up a fraction that Mansk was well aware of when someone was nervous. Something had come up.

“Who?”

Juan’s shoulders sagged a little. “A... polish nurse I have on my team. She arrived with Sully ship a few months back. Agata Bartosz. I… think she’s noticed me taking the bags out of storage. It’s probably nothing.” He anxiously said.

Mansk’s eyes narrowed a little. He knew it wasn’t easy for the doctor to get them their much-needed supplies alone. It wasn’t the first nurse or doctor they had to get to forget and ignore those little things with Juan.

“It’s not nothing if she sees you take blood. You cannot have that attention.” Mansk reminded, folding his arms across his chest with a stern look as if the doctor wasn’t already aware. He was fine the last twelve years with them doing this to potential whistle-blowers, why was this anything different?

“Look, why can’t we just bring her into the fold? She could help me. Help you, even.”

“We have a deal for your aid. There’s nothing that a nurse can bargain with here to keep to an agreement.”

Juan rose to his feet, moving from behind his desk with almost a desperate edge to his voice. “Why not give her a chance? Compel her if you must to not breathe a word if you distrust her but… I’m the only mortal man out of everyone on this base who knows about you. Bartosz might be a good person to help where I can’t. Cover my tracks, even.” His heart was thumping faster in his chest, his face flushing. “Devin, I didn’t take the permanent position on Pandora because I wanted to. I wanted to go home. With my son on the way… and with you lot, I had to make those choices for the sake of everyone else. Can’t you let me have her to talk to?”

Mansk wanted to feel bad and he knew the man’s logic was based on desperation but… there were already eleven vampires, and one half-human that relied on his secrecy.

“I can’t. If you want someone to talk to, Dr Malik at Frontier West can be that guy.”

“No, he’s compelled to help while I am willing to help. There’s a difference here.” Juan corrected sharply. The doc let out a frustrated huff, his hands coming to his hips. “Please, Devin, just think about it.”

“I can’t make any promises.”

-

“Yes,” Mansk nodded at the inventory report to the guy, “Looks good but I need the checks completed before I fly out tonight. We’ll also need more iodine supplements to be delivered. I sent a request for those earlier but we do have two months before the radiation storm hits so it’s not yet urgent.”

Familiar boots echoed behind him. “Running out so soon?”

Mansk turned politely. “Colonel.” He greeted, “Yes, sir. One of the main supplies the quadruplets stole was seven bottles of our iodine supplement pills.”

Quaritch frowned softly. “Those aren’t easy to come by.”

“No, they’re not, sir, but it shows they’re prepared. With the avatar, they can still function outside of their location to get more supplies without needing to leave their refuge.”

Radiation storms were an awful, one-time-a-year event he had been through for almost thirteen years now. Pandora’s orbit entered Polyphemus’s radiation belt that all gas giants had for a week, shrouding the planet into near-darkness for that time with a few shimmering colourful auras but… it was not a fun event. Especially for medical. All sites would close down for the week. Outside patrols are suspended unless they’re in a radiation-shielded AMP suit. Still, some people would be unfortunate to be exposed. If people weren’t recalled from link shacks, then they’d have to stay there until the week was over without any supply runs.

Which meant he hoped Augustine would be back for that week. Pandoran life was well adapted and was immune to the effects. Vampires weren’t immune to radiation but they could recover back to perfect health if exposed, unlike a human. He had learned the hard way in his first year as a vampire.

“Interesting,” He could see he had clocked a few ideas in the colonel’s head. Perhaps not thinking about the storm yet? Had the other defectors had such a notion to take those supplies? He hadn’t forgotten but up until now, he hadn’t thought of it either. It was a yearly event after all. They’d get warnings next month for preparation.

“I was just going over requests for our supplies for the base to make sure we got them,” Mansk explained, “tools and equipment that were stolen need to be replaced.”

“I’ve seen the reports,” Quaritch said but swiftly changed the topic with his next sentence. “Walk with me, I want a word.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mansk handed the tablet to the inventory guy and headed off after him as the colonel led him into the amour bay and towards the AMP suits. The Colonel’s one, Beyond Glory, was being serviced again, a new canopy replacement by the looks of it.

“I looked through that drive you gave me. I’m surprised by how detailed you went. Not even Selfridge goes that deep. Trying to suck up to me, son?”

Mansk chuckled softly, “No, sir.”

Quaritch gave him a side-eye but with a pleased chuckle. “You know, you surprised me, Mansk. I expected you to struggle with your position. We all know you’re underqualified for your position, rank-wise at the very least and it was handed to you on a silver platter. I hope that you won’t have failed. You didn't and even exceeded my expectations.”

“I know it’s a temporary measure, but I work with a lot of good soldiers.”

“I know that. I‘ve read the reports on your style of leadership.” Quaritch stopped a little short of the AMP suit, watching the platform rise with the new canopy, “The RDA leaders on Earth were also expecting failure after we informed them of the change for the last two weeks. They suggested Colonel Harding to take over given her rank position over yours after they heard of the escape.”

Mansk looked to Quaritch sharply but said nothing.

“Now, we have no grounds to demote Harding. With her new voice box, she’s not medically discharged from Pandora and we can’t demote based on disability. No proof she was part of that Clan’s massacre unless we get an account from one of them claiming she was there. She’s disciplined but not enough to classify for losing her rank.” Quaritch seemed to grumble more about that like it was a personal affront. “I want you to still be the man in charge there, so I’ve bargained that you retained your honouree Director rank, but you have to have Harding as your head of security. You still report to me and Selfridge.”

Mansk felt his gut tense. “What of Walker, sir?”

“She will either be put to running with Harding’s Squad or I’ve considered pulling her back to Hell’s Gate.”

His right hand was going to go. Not ideal. Still, He could work with her like any other person on this base. The only good thing was that Harding was human at the end of the day. Workable. If Walker left, it opened up the chance of getting one of the other vampires here. Molly would be able to replace a science position and a driver position as well. But he’d rather have Walker over Molly given their different skill sets.

“I’ll await your decision then, sir.” Mansk opted to respond with, watching the canopy be lifted by many hands, trying not to wince at the distant sound of metal grinding further away.

“One more thing,” Quaritch nodded him towards the gym and it wasn’t until he was in that he continued to speak. “You put a note on the files for a background check on the Quad’s prior to their arrival. Why?”

“Well, it’s one thing to leave the RDA but another to not want to return to Earth.” Mansk started. “I know you did plenty of research on those who have left but I looked into Carr to see she applied multiple times for a permanent position over a return. The latest failure of acceptance was followed by her departure. The four also tried to get permanent positions but failed due to changes to their contracts in the last year and the matter being that all four of them couldn’t stay. There are no potions open for all of them.”

“You think they’re running from something?” Quaritch mused, looking a little distracted.

“It’s possible. I can’t be sure without background checks. They’ve not shown any anti-RDA behaviours and had good respect for the company but given how the Quad never like to show who is who, pretend to be each other and purposely keep the façade up regardless of who they’re talking to, I think that’s second nature. Not normal, even for quadruplets. Something’s motivated that behaviour enough that they don’t want to consider a return to Earth.”

Quaritch hummed softly. “Everyone is background checked before their application is accepted.”

“Not unless people know someone like Shen to build them public and locatable data to cover their asses. It’s easy to get that on Earth given how desperate people are and what they’re willing to pay for it.”

“Damn,” Quaritch huffed, rubbing his jaw tightly but not thrilled either. “I’ve got a lot more work to do.”

“Sorry, Sir.”

“You think outside the box.” He was clapped lightly on the shoulder. “Least that might shed more context behind the defectors.”

-

Jake’s steps were careful as he crouched downwind from the adult Nantang who wasn’t hunting but looked to be foraging for something in the undergrowth. He had tracked and followed this one from its den, Neytiri shadowing him and watching him.

In a way this was a dual test; his stealth as a hunter-to-be and to get the viperwolf away from its den before he’d test the whistle. Away from its den and a little way out of its territory so it could flee back to its home without abandoning it and potential pups.

This Nantang was mature, it had deep red stripes down its skin but no tells on which gender it was. Na’vi weren’t the only species to hide their junk inside. Almost all had it hidden away until needed. It appeared to locate what looked like bones, pulling it from the undergrowth with its teeth, pawing at the vegetation that had grown over it. It had no flesh on but it was clearly downed by an animal from the broken nature of the bone.

Jake paused, bringing the whistle from his lips but made himself known first by rustling some leaves purposely. It was one thing to take it by surprise entirely but to get one aggro on him would tell him if it worked.

Its head turned his way with a guttural hiss, baring teeth as it began to take a few steps towards him. So, with a heavy breath, he cupped his hands a little under the whistle and blew hard. The ungodly noise greeted everyone’s ears but the Nantang’s demeanour shifted entirely from aggressive to pure fear before it literally pooped and ran like a thanator was after it.

Jake gaped a little before he snorted. It worked. The whistle did work. Everyone was gonna be happy to hear that. “<Nice to know I’m right.>” He was curious about what Zeke would find on the files but now the test worked. The humans had better chances than before to defend themselves without violence.

Neytiri chuckled. “<Indeed. A haunting sound. I doubt it will work against a Palulukan but small predators may be swayed. Let’s not overuse them, it’s unfair to scare without cause. It is not amusing to the creatures.>”

“<Except Tsu’tey?>” Jake offered, “<As a prank?>”

Neytiri gave him a little look. “<Your heart is set on scaring him.>”

“<Yep. One time and I’m sure you’d love to see him jump. I can’t imagine that, but I’ve only seen him glower, glare and act like your father but with a stick up his ass.>”

“Jake!” Neytiri looked a little scandalised, “<Tsu’tey does not act like my father>”

Jake just chuckled, rising to his feet. “<Oh, I know he respects him but they pull the same frown of disapproval.>”

“<Jake…>” Neytiri groaned.

“<Let’s go back. It’s almost noon.>”

Neytiri, glowering a little, chippered her call for Seze. “<Fine but I’ll let you take the heat for this little prank>”

“<Fine by me. I’m an idiot by nature and moron by choice>”

Neytiri’s annoyed expression cracked a little with a roll of her eyes before her Ikran landed with a welcoming screech.

-

Returning back to Hometree, it was almost a shame when they landed and Jake had to jump off but with both their weights, Seze certainly needed a break. He left Neytiri to tend to her and hurried excitedly down the spiral.

“It works! It works” he sang, mostly to the humans, waving the whistle about.

“Whohoo!” Ashely called, straddling down the Ikran model and didn’t look up from her training to know what he was on about before the Na’vi she was with pushed the toy to force the Dreamwalker to readjust as if it was a real Ikran. Tsu’tey was not about for his announcement. Good.

He picked up a leaf wrap of seasoned Teylu from the cooks to eat for lunch but went on his way after but Jake decided to detour to the weaving ring where N’deh was finally with the circle and enjoying the attention to his craftsmanship of his new clothes. He looked to be weaving together a shoulder pad.

“<I haven’t yet decided but I’ll keep it in mind. I was thinking perhaps weaving colours fibres into my braids if I don’t turn my hair into those locs.>” N’deh was saying, running his hand through his scalp of braids. “<That with bone beads may look nice. It’ll complete the look.>”

“<How’s it going?>” Jake interrupted, crouching down curiously. “<Looks wonderful.>”

“<Huh, oh yes.>” N’deh looked at his shoulder peace in pride. “<I’ve yet to add the bone pieces but it’s looking how I wanted it to be. It’ll go on my bow shoulder. I’m hiding a little space to put something small in as well. Maybe some seeds.>”

“<What about sewing needles? Or a little blade?>” Jake suggested, leaning forward to examine the pad-pouch.

N’deh paused, considering. “<That is not a bad idea. Spare threading and some needles would be useful for a quick fix if I’m away from Hometree or camp.>”

Jake patted his shoulder. “<Indeed. I’m not back for too long. Gotta find Tsu’tey, let him see Eywa for a second and then Neytiri’s gonna hopefully show me how to use an Ikran catcher without sticking it in my eye by accident.>”

N’deh snorted. “<Good luck>”

“<Thanks.>”

-

Once again, Neytiri was shadowing him as he located Tsu’tey with Eytukan and Mo’at by the river but a reasonable distance from the clan that Jake hoped the whistle wouldn’t disturb them too much. Both Eytukan’s back and Tsu’tey’s back were turned so they weren’t seen by them as they crept closer.

Mo’at, however, was facing towards them and her eyes sought his movement out quickly but he put his finger in front of his lips, begging for her not to mention. Perhaps sensing harmless mischief or curious about the fallout, Mo’at returned her gaze to her mate without any indication. Four metres away, Jake took his chance and brought the whistle to his lips and let the sound unleash.

Eytukan jumped, pulling his knife out in the same motion and moving in front of Mo’at without a second thought, high alert, eyes wide and ears pinned as he spun to face them. Tsu’tey’s reaction was less dignified, he screeched, pulling his blade out too but misbalanced from the motion and a loose rock that toppled him backwards into the shallow water with a ‘oof!’

Jake lost all composure, dropping to the grassy floor and heaving with laughter, his stomach aching within seconds that only got worse as Tsu’tey hissed and clambered from the river dripping wet. He was not laughing alone, he vaguely realised. Neytiri was giggling hysterically and had a hold of the whistle he had dropped. Mo’at, though alarmed seemed to see the joke, her lips pursed together and her yellow eyes a little alight with amusement as she patted Eytukan’s bicep.

He could see Tsu’tey furiously making his way towards him with bitterness, but Eytukan caught the soaked man’s arm.

“<Calm, Tsu’tey,>”

Jake tried to take a few calming breaths, his vision growing a little light.

“<The trickster Dreamwalker!” Tsu’tey seethed, “<that horrific demon—

Jake didn’t hear the rest as suddenly, he slumped forward and found himself slamming back into his human form, his head hurting a little but he began to immediately laugh still as his body caught up. He didn’t unlink, feeling the soft tether as the machine still went to his avatar.

It took a few minutes of chortling alone in the link bed before he was able to breathe normally and his heart to slow down. Taking a few breaths, Jake steered himself for the fire that he was going to wake up to before he felt the swooping tunnel before he felt his return back. His heart in this body was still going but calmer now, as was his breathing.

“<Jake?>” Neytiri’s voice was soft and concerned.

“<I’m okay,>” he assured, opening his eyes to see both Mo’at and Neytiri bending over him. “<Never laughed so hard it sent me back to my body before. That’s new>” he grinned, sitting up.

Tsu’tey was crouched a few feet away glaring down at him with a sour look. “<Not funny.>”

Jake sniggered again. “<Very funny>”

Neytiri patted his chest. “<Calm, before you laugh yourself to your other body again.>”

Jake grinned a little. “<So, that device horrific is an Earth Death Whistle. Also works to scare Pandora’s animals and… people.>” He darted a look to Tsu’tey at that. “<N’deh wants to use it for… us. Our thing for Animal scares.>” He rolled up off the floor, brushing the dirt off himself as Neytiri handed the whistle to her father to examine. “<All the humans have one since they were at a shack but I want to make a version that looks like a Palulukan.>”

Tsu’tey grumbled a little, arms folding over his chest. It gave Jake a lot of grumpy cat vibes right there.

“<Very fitting,>” Mo’at spoke. “<Unique.>”

“<N’deh suggested calling them Zawɾ’fwefwi.>” Jake added brightly. “<It fits the purpose of why we have them. I’m inclined to accept that.>”

Mo’at took the whistle from her husband to examine herself, bringing it to her lips with a soft blow but her hand underneath changed the screeching sound that echoed. She tried again, moving her hand which changed the pitch.  “<A fascinating sound, if a bit fear-inducing.>”

Jake continued to grin, “<You can keep it if you want but as long as you don’t give it to Tsu’tey for revenge. As I said, I’m going to try and make one. I’m sure either Tsyra or Hukinli might be able to help me make something that works with the same effect.”

Tsu’tey huffed in displeasure.

“<Do not let this be a new distraction. Let it be used for its purpose.>” Eytukan decided. “<No more jokes with it, Jakesully.>”

“<Yes, Olo’eyktan.>” Jake nodded respectfully.

“<Come, let’s start your Ikran training.>” Neytiri encouraged. “<With your sling training, I think you might master it quick>”

“<Oh, possibly.>” Jake hadn’t realised that. If the motions were familiar, he could breeze through the bola and Ikran catcher quickly. Maybe he could get his Ikran at the same time as Ashely if he caught up?

Hopefully.

-

( Jake however quickly learned that the while wasn’t even safe in the Tsahìk’s hand with sneaky and curious children around. The demonic screaming was not so easily contained after that. )

Masterlist

[tadpolesonalgae]

Hello! I have wanted to start writing for a long time and I was wondering if you have any tips for new writers? (Any advice is greatly appreciated 😊)

Have a lovely day ❤️

Hi hello!! I’m so sorry this has taken me so long to actually answer—every time I begin trying to attempt a comprehensive list of tips I always second guess myself or think it isn’t coherent enough and end up deleting it 🫠🤦

First and foremost, knowing the platform you’re working on!

Back in the old days when I first started writing on here, I had no idea how tags worked (still struggle), no idea how to link things, how to structure a fanfic or any idea about layout (what font to use for a title, where to put the pairing so people know who you’re writing for, word count if you want to include that, etc.), and didn’t know how to put that ‘read more’ thing on, so I strongly advise being familiar with the platform you’re going to write on 😭

Secondly, spelling and grammar!

Some people don’t mind it as much, but being familiar when to use capitals, when to use commas, speech marks and quotation marks, how to end dialogue too in terms of where the punctuation goes! (Which still sometimes messes me up 🫢)

Proofreading too I think is very important! Again, it might bother some people more than others, but as a general rule, making the story simple to read so no one struggles with figuring out how to say the sentences in their head will benefit the coherency :)

Knowing what you’re writing!!

I went on a tangent about this a couple of days ago (I think?), but knowing who you want to write for, what type of story (smut, angst, or fluff as the general three), how you want to format your fics: do you want to write drabbles/headcanons/one-shots/multipart fics? A mixture of all of them? What suits you best?

As a side note: scheduling?

I think it’s important to know how much you’re capable of writing without risking burnout! Especially with fanfiction where I’m assuming you want to start because you enjoy it, to not lose the fun of it through feeling pressured to write as much as possible :)

Sometimes you might be able to write more often than others, and it’s good to be able to know what you need, whether that’s time away from writing or forcing your way through it—though it can take a while to figure out. :)

[dp-marvel94]

Face to Face- Chapter 54

Summary: When Danny went through the ghost catcher, he expected to be cured of the ghostliness that had haunted him since the accident, not to wake up on the lab floor with his parents saying he’d been overshadowed but everything’s back to normal now. But why does Danny Fenton cry himself to sleep to then dream of flying? Why does Phantom, the ghost who was supposedly possessing Danny remember a life that wasn’t his? Most of all, why do both the human and the ghost feel that something vital is missing, in their very soul? Or: Trying to cure himself of his powers one month after the accident, Danny accidentally splits himself but neither his ghost nor his human half know that that is what they did

First -> Last -> Next

Word Count: 7,517

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Note: Finally! The much awaited (for me at least XD) concert chapter! This is probably the most self indulgent thing I have ever written. 😅😳

Seriously though, I put so much time and thought into this love letter to my two favorite things: Danny Phantom and Christian rock. 😂 I hope ya'll enjoy it just a fraction of the amount I did writing it.

(And on a serious note. A warning for some minor religious references and discussion here- the name of Jesus in a reverent context, a character asks another if they would like to be prayed for. I wrote a very long post on Tumblr going to more detail on some of these and my reasons for including them. See the link in the end note.)

Excitement grew, buzzing in Danny’s chest as everyone piled into the GEV. Even Jazz.

The boy raised a brow at his sister. “I figured you’d wanna stay home and read about the psychology of troubled teens or something.”

The red-head rolled her eyes at the comment. She shook her head. “Spike is going. He’s really into the metal scene and I thought going myself might be informative.”

Dad glanced back. “Is that your boyfriend, Jazzirencess?”

Jazz blushed. “We’re just friends, Dad.”

The parents exchanged looks, saying nothing else on the topic. Instead the conversation shifted, back towards the subject of the concert.

“Danny, sweetie. Who are we seeing again?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Less than ten minutes later, the group arrived at the park. Dad pulled into a parking spot and turned the vehicle off. The teens were out almost before the van even stopped and practically run across the grass.

There was the stage, set up the field where Sam, Tucker, and his two halves had played frisbee golf on Thursday. Danny stopped a dozen feet away, just staring for a long moment. Not even four days ago he’d fought a dragon here. Signs of the struggle still mard the area: patches of dead grass, a few fallen trees, and –Danny winced at the sight– the destroyed bathrooms, bared off the caution tape. A row of Port-a-Potties has been set up in their stead.

The sound of a guitar broke through Danny’s thoughts. “Feels like I'm stuck. Going nowhere fast.” An older teenage girl was singing while playing. “My life is on the line. I'm running out of time.” The instrument suddenly cut off. Then her voice pitched down, speaking normally. “I’m gonna need more guitar in my ears.” A few more strums. “Perfect.” She glanced over at another teen, holding a bass. “Maggie?”

Beside Danny, Tucker leaned in, right next to his ear. “They’re sound checking!” The half ghost could practically hear the stars in his friend’s eyes. 

“We’re listening to GFM sound check!” Danny felt just as giddy.

More strumming instruments, banging on the drums, growling and yelling into the mic. “Mic check! One, two, three! Can you hear me?!” 

“Yeah!” Woah!” The few people already gathering in front of the stage yelled an affirmative.

“Sounds good, CJ.” The bassist backed up from the mic, leaving her instrument on a stand. “Let’s get dinner.”

“Pizza!” There was a cheer from the drum set.

The other two band members, all sisters if Danny remembered, left the stage, now empty of people. 

Sam tugged on her friends’ arms. “Let’s scope out merch.”

The three hurried over to the merch tables, the group clustered under a tent. First GFM’s merch table, all black and pink and green. Shirts and tank tops. A jersey and hoodie. Wristbands and stickers. Pins. Even a skateboard- with cupcakes and a cheerleader in a black and pink cheer outfit with fishnets.

“I want one of everything.” The goth gushed. 

Next Relent’s table- black cloth covered the table, displaying fewer options but no less enticing.

Danny eyed one particular shirt. 

Tucker pointed. “Dude, check it.” The shirt showed a typical, if spooky, bed-sheet ghost, the scene complete with the band name, fire, lightning, and little bats.

“I’m so tempted.” The half ghost grinned.

Then Protest’s. A huge banner with the band’s logo hung on a frame, shirts displayed around it. In front of that was a table with posters, cds, stickers, and other offerings. A man with long brown hair and an upper arm tattoo was hanging up one last jacket.

“That’s a sick zip-up.” Tucker commented.

The man turned around…. He looked vaguely familiar. “Thanks man. My bro designed it.” He pointed to another man, a few tables down who was talking to some other people. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m-” He held out his hand to Tucker, only to be interrupted.

“Joshua Bramlett!” 

The four turned, only to see-

“Grandma?!” Sam’s eyes crinkled in disbelief of the old woman zooming across the path in her electric wheelchair.

The man’s (presumably Joshua) eyes lit up behind his glasses. “Miss Ida!” He stepped around the group, bending over to hug the woman as her chair stopped. “How have you been?!”

The trio of teens stared, confused. “What is happening right now?” Danny asked.

Meanwhile, the bearded man and Sam’s grandma chatted. “These old joints are acting up. But I wasn’t going to miss seeing you boys for the world.” She patted his hand. “You have to meet my granddaughter.”

Grandma Ida wheeled forward, the man walking back to the trio with her. “This is Sam.” The old woman introduced.

“I’m Josh.” The man offered his hand with a smile.

“Sam.” The goth nodded, accepting the gesture.

“Tucker.”

“Danny.”

Two more hand shakes were given. 

Josh then lowered his hands, putting them in his pockets. “Have you ever seen us before?”

“Us?” Danny raised a brow and the man motioned to the banner. “Oh.” The boy blushed. “You're in the band.” That really should have been obvious; hadn’t he seen him on the flier for this very show?

Josh chuckled, giving a shrug. “I sing for The Protest.” The words were so casual, “Are you excited for the show?” and the question eager and genuinely interested.

The half ghost instinctively felt himself relaxing. “Yeah! We’ve been talking about this for weeks.”

“Me and the boys will be sure to put on a good one for you.” He chuckled, before pointing back at the stage. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got more set up to do. I’d love to talk to you guys more after.”

Sure enough, Josh turned and walked away. The three teens stopped, watching for a long moment.

“He seems nice.” Tucker commented.

“That young man’s one of the sweetest, most genuine people you’ll ever meet.” Grandma Ida nodded, eyes twinkling with her smile. 

“Who you’ve apparently met before?” Sam frowned down, hands on her hips. “You know the Protest’s lead singer. How come you haven’t taken me to see them before?”

The old woman just shrugged, a mischievous look flickering across her face. Then her eyes lit up, gaze flickering to something near the stage. “Is that Marco Pera I see?!” She called out. “Don’t you run off now! Come talk to Grandma Ida.” The old woman wheeled off, leaving the three teens behind.

The goth lowered her hands to her sides, mouth open. “Unbelievable.”

Danny tugged her arm, diverting her attention. “Come on. There’s another table.”

Sam turned back. Her brow furrowed. “I thought there were only three bands playing.”

Tucker shrugged, leading his friends to the table. Sure enough, there was more merch displayed. 

“They have everything.” Danny’s eyes widened. Bags, CDs, posters, stickers, and pins were typical fare. But there were shirts in just about every color, not just black or gray. Keychains and coasters. Wristbands too. Even jewelry, bracelets that looked like they were made of leather.

“You should get that one, Sam.” Tucker pointed teasingly at a pink leather bracelet with the band’s name.

The goth rolled her eyes, giving the technogeek a punch on the arm. 

“Hey!” Tucker protested. 

Sam ignored him, instead reading the writing on the banner behind the table. “Chaotic Resemblance. Who are these guys anyway? They’re not on the flier.”

“We got added last minute.” A blond man, late twenties with a lip ring, looked up from his phone, putting the device in his pocket. “We’re good friends with the guys in the Protest and playin’ a few hours away tomorrow.” The man shrugged. He had an odd accent Danny couldn’t quite place. “Figured we could swing by.”

“Cool.” Danny said with a slight smile. He had no idea who this band was but the prospect of hearing cool, new music was always exciting.

Briefly, names were exchanged; the man’s name was Travis, yet another lead singer. He asked the trio if they’d heard of any of the other bands playing today and who they were excited to see.

“GFM.” Sam’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve been following their vlog for like a year now. The music kicks ass. And their music videos! I love the one for SMILE.” She stopped, blushing in seeming embarrassment from the rant. “So, yeah. I’m excited.”

Travis laughed, expression open and kind, before asking Tucker and Danny the same question. The technogeek mentioned reading a review of The Protest’s new ep on a music website he liked and listening to the songs a bunch. And Danny…

“Relent’s super cool. Sam introduced them to me, since they’re on that same label GFM used to be on.” He blushed, cheeks scrunching up with his smile. “I’ve listened to the new cd like a hundred times. Especially Ghost and Heavy.” Just a hint of sadness brushed his mind at the thought of that second one. “I… really like those songs.”

“You’ve gotta learn the words, right.” Tucker elbowed him playfully. 

The halfa just felt more embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well uh…”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Travis leaned forward, a conspiratory twinkle in his eye. “Let me tell you a secret. We love it when fans know the words.”

“Really?” Danny asked hesitantly.

“Yep.” The man nodded. “So you better sing really loud for those guys.” The half ghost nodded eagerly. Then, suddenly strumming sounded from the stage. Travis’ head jerked in the direction. “Oh, we’re sound checking. I have to go. It was great talking to you.”

Again, the trio watched him go. And Danny’s shoulder untensed. He felt better, embarrassment and lingering sadness gone. He knew all the words to Heavy because, well… he’d listened… and cried through the song many times. It’s not like anyone could blame him, right? The last two months had been the hardest of his life. But he’d gotten through it. He’d learned and he’d grown. And that song had been a tiny part of that.

Shaking the thought away, the trio of friends returned to their spot near the front. On the way they passed Danny’s mom and dad, both seated in their camping chairs with what looked like a few other parents. Jazz and a teen with black spiky hair and a nose ring stood on the other side of the stage, a little ways back.

The trio stood in front of the stage, excitement building as the band checked their sound. Minutes later, the musicians walked off, leaving the stage bare and ready. Music crackled to life on the speakers. Pre Recorded but familiar, fast paced and energetic, from bands Danny recognized. Anticipation grew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shadows were lengthening now, the golden light of late afternoon bathing the scene. The wind blew gently, not too hot or too cold. And the crowd gathered, people packing closer together near the stage. The half ghost’s heart fluttered with excitement. The show must be starting soon…

A cheer rang out around him. The boy looked up.

“Who’s ready to rock?!” It was an older man, maybe ten years older than his dad, bald but with a big, wispy beard and tattoos in a biker jacket. “I’ve always wanted to say that.” He chuckled. “I’m Dave. I’ve been volunteering with Guardians of the Children for ten years now. We’re so excited to have all of you guys here today. ‘Specially these awesome bands on the Gotta Rock ‘em all Tour.” 

Another cheer rose up and Dave clapped. “Yeah! Give it up for these dudes.”

“Woo!!” Danny yelled, voice joining his friends.

More clapping and cheering… slowly the sound died down.

The older man pointed. “Later, one of my buddies is goin’ to tell you all about what we Guardians do. But now… are you ready to have your faces melted!?”

“Yeah!” “Woo!” “Yeah!” The half ghost caught a glimpse of Sam, her fists already in the sky. Tucker, mouth open to yell.

“Our first band wasn’t originally planned to be here. They’re on their own tour now but makin’ a special trip to see us. I love these guys. If you’re in my generation, you’re in for a treat.” Dave’s eyes sparkled knowingly. “Give it up for… Chaotic Resemblance!”

To cheers, the band sauntered onto stage, one by one. The drums pounded, cymbals clashing. Then the bass, an easy strum. The guitar, with a flourish and…

“How are we doing, Amity Park?!” Travis ran onto stage, now in a jean vest with studs and hair unbound.

The first song started, unfamiliar words fast. The guitars slung notes, fast and driving. The singer’s voice rose, high and resonating, with a twang. 

Danny bobbed his head, a smile growing as he listened. The sound tickled his ears. This was cool! Not his typical style for sure. Maybe it was closer to something he’d heard his parents listening to…? 

A hint of a bridge. The guitar solo. On stage, hair flew. The song swept up. 

Around the half ghost, the crowd was swept up with it. Danny’s heart beat faster, hair flopping on his forehead with his movement.

The chorus, on final time…. 

“It's time we break!” Travis half-sung, half-yelled.  “The identity crisis toda-ay!” The note held out, long high and reverberating. Instruments clashed, one finally flurry of head-banging. 

With a final shout, the sound died…. And the crowd cheered.

“Yeah!!” The halfa clapped, the motion big and exuberant.

One voice rose above the rest. “Woah! Radical, dudes!”

Danny looked back, cheeks bright red. That was his dad, hands up and grinning like a mad man.

On stage, Travis chuckled, pointing. “Thank you, sir.”

The half ghost face palmed….

The show rolled on, embarrassment long forgotten. 

“We’ve got one last song!” The singer started. “Thanks for having us.” A cheer from the crowd. The guitars started shredding. “We love you guys. God bless.” A final yell. “Let’s start a riot!”

Travis pumped the air with a fist. “Hey! Hey! Hey!”

Soon the crowd was copying….

Jumping. Hair slinging. Figuring out what to do during the song was natural, the crowd moving as one. 

“This is the Riot Anthem!” 

“Riot! Riot!” The boy’s heart pumped, grinning.

“Our final call to action!”

“Riot! Riot!” He shouted, fist punching the sky…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The set ended but the show went on, Relent playing next, just as the sun was starting to set.

“What you're about to see is not for free. No, I ain't got time for apologies!” Danny spat the words to the much loved song. “I'm a south boy killa. No scope headshot winner.” Screaming. “I can feel something staring at me!”

Bouncing, the half ghost’s spirit soared.

But the next song was Heavy. “I wrote this song based on my wife’s story. She’s been through so much. So many horrible, painful things. But she’s come out victorious.” The singer’s eyes flicking over the crowd. “So I hope her story helps people. I hope it helps you remember you’re not alone. And it helps you find the strength to break the silence and talk about the things that aren’t talked about enough.”

The drums pounded, slow and steady. The emotional words rang out. “I cannot take the pressure. This feels like forever…”

Danny sang along, vision threatening to blur…. 

The singer fisted the mic, eyes closed. “Look what you did to my soul. Look at the size of the hole.” He lamented. Tears collected in the corners of the half ghost’s eyes.  “Why do I, why do I, why do I feel so heavy?”

The song trickled to a stop and Danny’s heart squeezed. He whipped the tears away….

One final Relent song. The music pounded. Danny jumped and head-banged, excitement returning. His head swung at the bridge, the best part of the song. He sung. “Time’s up! What! What! What! Welcome to the-”

A puff of cold air. Danny stumbled to a stop, looking side to side. His eyes caught on… he blinked. A young man with sandy blond hair, a leather jacket. Was that… the motorcycle ghost he saw in the Zone?

Nervous curiosity squirmed in Danny’s gut as the set ended with a bang. The instruments pounded as the people cheered. With waves, the band left the stage.

The half ghost glanced back, his eyes meeting the other ghost’s. The biker raised an eyebrow. Danny turned back to the front, biting his lip. He should probably go talk to the guy. There was a little time before GFM started.

He tapped on Sam’s shoulder who turned as he leaned closer. “Save my spot. Be back soon.” The goth’s brow furrowed for just a second. Then Danny muttered. “Ghost.” He vaguely motioned with his head.

With no more discussion, he ran off, weaving through the crowd. Sure enough… there was the biker ghost. Johnny? That was what the green haired woman he’d been with before had called him, right? Quickly, Danny approached, half a dozen questions buzzing in his head. But what came out of his mouth…

“You should put that thing out.” His eyes narrowed at the death stick in Johnny’s hand. “Don’t you know cigarettes can kill you?”

The older ghost burst out laughing. “Shit, kid.” He dropped the cigarette, the object disappearing into mist as it fell. “How can you even see me?”

“You’re standing right in front of me.” The halfa raised a brow, arms crossed.

“I’m invisible.” He rolled his eyes like it was obvious. “You a medium or something?”

“A medium? What-” 

“Shit, I’ve seen you before.” The biker interrupted, snapping his finger. “You look like that twelve year old who was looking for his Mama.”

“I’m fourteen!” Danny bared his teeth. A cold feeling flickered in his eyes, green light swirling in them. 

“Holy….” The other ghost’s eyes widened. “I thought you were the live twin to your dead bro. But… holy f-king hell….” He pointed. “You’re a halfa.”

Said halfa dropped his arms. “What… How?… I just flashed my eyes and knew it like that?”

“I felt it, now that I’m actually lookin’ at ya…” Somehow, Johnny’s eyes widened more. “How come I didn’t feel it before?”

Danny blushed. “That’s complicated…” He shook his head. “What are you doing here?” The question was curious, just a hint of suspicion. 

“Watching a show.” He motioned to the stage, matter-of-fact. “Me and Kitten stumbled on a natural portal. Thought we’d have a bit of fun.” He leaned forward, voice lowering. “She’s good about knowing how long one’s gonna be open. Said we’ve got ‘til midnight.”

Danny’s brow furrowed. So that was apparently a thing…? But he didn’t ask. Instead he looked side-to-side…. “Where is she?”

“Snooping around backstage.” The other ghost grinned, mischievously, a hint of sharp teeth flashing.

New suspiciousness flashed in his eyes. A desire flickered- to get the thermos and catch the two ghosts before anything happened. But…. the boy sighed. Johnny was just standing here, watching the show like any other concert goer. He sounded like he was enjoying the music. Maybe Danny could hope….

Danny rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Can you at least try not to cause trouble?”

“Trouble?” The man laughed. “We won’t do nothing too bad.” He winked. “Besides, I’m digging these guys… and girls?” His eyes widened slightly, set on something behind. Probably GFM getting on stage. He shook his head, expression just a bit more genuine. “Believe me, the last thing I want is to stop the party.”

At that, Danny sighed. Behind him, cheers started. “Great. I’ll be near the front. Have fun.” He started turning to leave. “And really, don’t try anything. My parents are ghost hunters after all.” He pointed a thumb to the two Fentons adults, standing in front of their chairs. “You saw that big gun my Mom had in the Realms? She knows how to use it. And…” He flashed his eyes. “My folks aren’t the only ones’ armed.”

For a second, Johnny’s face paled, nervousness flickering across it. Then he smirked, summoning another cigarette with a flick of his fingers. “Alright, kid.” Burgeoning respect shone in those eyes. “See you ‘round.”

Danny ran back to the front, pushing through the crowd. In front of him, pink-colored smoke still shot up from the stage. He arrived at his spot just as Maggie ran on stage. 

“What is up Amity? I need you all to make some noise for me tonight!” Arms spread, head back, the teen brought the mic to her mouth and growled….

“Don’t tell me to! Don’t tell me to! SMILE.” A guttural yell. 

Hair flying. The crowd chanted around him. “S.M.I.L.E. Why don’t you smile for me?”

His feet pounded, his heart pounded, sweat running down his back. Beside him, Sam spat the words; he could almost hear her growling along. Tucker banged his head, glasses hanging on for dear life. Even so, his friends’ faces shone with gleeful happiness.

The second verse swung around, the chorus again. Danny’s mind filled up with the words, the rhythm. No room for anything more than the sheer exuberance.

The guitar and bass cut off, drums pounding the beat. “Okay, everyone settle down. Boys and girls, are you ready?” The guitarist, CJ, more chanted than sung.

The crowd clapped and yelled, hands in the air.

“LuLu, are you ready?” Pointing at the drummer. “I know I’m ready!” With a grin. “Maggie, are you ready?” Voice pitched up, a performatively raised brow. “Maggie?”

A pause. The audience held their breath, gripped with anticipation and...

“Go!” A growl from said teen. The breakdown hit.

And the crowd lost it. Jumping. Headbanging. Pushing and shoving. Moshing. The horde jolted. Someone ran past Danny. And…. they were circling?! The half ghost grinned manically. 

“Jack!”

His ears twitched at the cry. A look back, eyes widened. And… Danny just about felt his soul leave his body. His Dad… his dad was in the circle pit. A flash of worry. But the man was keeping up no problem, sure on his feet. 

Danny chuckled, turning back to the front as the last chorus started. His voice joined the rest. At least his dad was having fun….

“Anyone want cupcakes?!” Maggie yelled.

This was it, the last song! And there they were: clear plastic containers with neon-frosted confections. The famed cupcakes!

“Misery loves company, I bet you're fun at parties.” Cupcakes flew. “Chasing after all the things you think will make you happy.” Instinctively, Danny ducked. “You've been played so many times, you'd make the perfect barbie.” The sugary goodness rained down. “Pretend your life's a fairytale, the story's getting boring….”  The guitar sped up, fingers flying across the cords.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins, heart pounding a mile a minute. He sang his lungs out. “I don’t need your fantasy!” 

Beside him, Sam’s eyes shone with passion, a balled fist to the sky. “'Cause I'm gonna say, gonna say what I wanna say…” 

A cupcake nailed her in the shoulder, pink icing smearing across her shirt and face. Danny laughed, pointing. The shocked look on her face!

“…my voice. You can't take it away!”

Something chocolate brown and blue flew at his face. The half ghost flailed to catch and… 

“You can’t!”

Blue icing coated his hands. He dropped the cupcake…

“You can’t! You can’t!”

Right into Tucker’s hands. The technogeek smirked, taking a huge bite. 

Danny lost it, bursting out laughing. Mind, body, heart, and soul wrapped up, caught up in the moment. Just him and the beat. The stickiness on his hands. His grinning, screaming, laughing friends. The press of the crowd around him. The words pouring out of his mouth. 

“This is my life, my voice. You can't take it away!”

His core sang, buzzing inside him. This. This right here. It was amazing, incredible, perfect. The feeling almost euphoric. 

This is awesome! The words were more yelled in his head than thought. An almost physical thing, like throwing the idea with his mind to-

“Misery loves company, I bet you're fun at parties.” Sam’s jump sent her careening into him. “Chasing after all the things you think will make you happy!” She’s never looked so happy to be wearing pink.

The breakdown. Tucker’s flailing arm jolted his side, icing smeared around the technogeek’s  mouth.

“Now, you’ll see… I don’t need your fantasy!” With bared teeth, head raised to the sky, Danny had never felt so alive….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The set ended with a bang, the clashing of instruments as people cheered. The three sisters left the stage. The previous soundtrack started again, so much quieter than the live music. The half ghost almost felt the crowd breath out, decompress as one of the Guardian of the Children volunteers came up to speak. The mass of people shifted, the space for moshing filling in as some snuck closer to the front and others left. Jazz and Spike drifted closer, standing right beside Danny and his friends.

Danny took a breath, whipping his sweaty forehead.

His sister laughed, giving him a knowing look.

The boy raised a brow. “I’ve got icing on my face now, don’t I?”

“Yep.” Jazz’s tone was full of teasing.

“You want some?” With a grin, the little brother swiped for her.

“Danny!” The older teen shrieked, jumping away.

“Come on! Let me give you a high five!” He reached again.

Jazz weaved, dodging. “No!”

“Come on!” Danny got her right in her face.

“Ew! It’s sticky!” The girl fished in her bag, pulling on a sleeve of wet wipes. Frustiously, she whipped at the blue frosting. “Here, you heathen.” She shoved the package at her brother.

The boy rolled his eyes but obliged, whipping his hands. It did feel nice to get the sticky feeling off them. 

A sudden screeching sound through the mic brought Danny’s attention back to the speaker. 

The older man speaking smiled sheepishly. “Got too close to the mic there. As I was saying…”

What was the man saying? Danny should probably pay attention…

The boy shuffled foot to foot, watching, listening. He was getting tired from standing here so long. And thirsty. He’d sung, and screamed, and sweated a lot. He glanced back, wanting to go get some water. But his coveted spot…

Another screech. Danny’s gaze jolted back, focus returned. The mic was giving the guy problems, huh? He watched the stage, the lights  slowly brightening in the growing darkness. It was well past sunset now. A flicker of movement below the stage caught Danny’s attention. Some thing darted by, dark and strangely formless. That was weird… 

A few more minutes and the volunteer finished speaking, leaving the stage. The soundtrack returned as the lights on the stage dimmed.

Danny’s insides fluttered, anticipation rising again. He was still tired, previous emotional high lessened. But the last band was about to come on soon! The headliner!

Beside him, Tucker shook with excitement. “Oh, man. This is gonna be awesome.”

Danny nodded. The lights shifted, spot lighting the drums. And…

“Make some noise, Amity!” Josh ran on stage, jumping. “I wanna see you on your feet!”

The music rumbled and the crowd obeyed. A roar from the background track. Josh fisted the mic and growled. “I caught you like the monster hiding under my bed. Now I’m gonna rip you right out of my head! Like a baseball to the side of the face, I’ll make you disappear without a trace.” Heads bobbed, hands raised. “The match is in my hand… The match is in my hand!” The crowd shook, starting to jump. “You’re just a paper!”

A deafening pop and sound and lights died.

“A paper tiger!” The last yelled words sounded, only audible because of how close Danny was to the stage. 

For a few more seconds, the crowd continued jumping, the band still trying to play as Josh sang without amplification . “Nothing more than a… silver tongued… liar?” 

But the movement stalled, fizzling out. The half ghost stumbled to a stop, brow furrowing in confusion. Around him the crowd started to murmur.

On stage, the guitarist closest to the trio, short cropped hair and bare faced in a tank top, stummed, no sound coming through the speaker. His head turned toward the others already gathering around the drum set. “Did we just lose power?”

The drummer shrugged. One of the lights flashed on, randomly swiveling on its display. The spotlight shone right in the short haired musician’s face. “Woah!” He closed his eyes, head jerking away. The sound echoed out. The man blinked. “Hey, the mic’s back.”

More strumming attempts. Josh tried his mic again, lowering it with a confused look. The drummer motioned to something on the laptop set up beside the kit.

The guitarist turned his attention back to the audience. “Well, that’s how you know it’s live and we’re not just playing over a recording.” He laughed, strumming his guitar and making a face. “Anyone want to hear a joke?”

Under the stage something black flickered again. Danny titled his head, brow furrowed.

“What's a vampire's favorite kind of candy?” He gave a pause for effect, murmurs of question coming from the audience. Then… "A sucker."

Around him, people chuckled lightly, several groaning at the bad joke. On stage, the man continued. “There’s more where that came from. What do….”

The words drifted over Danny’s head, unable to keep his attention. Instead, his focus was on a… weird, unnaturally dark shadow. It undulated, half-slinging-half-crawling in the recesses under the stage. 

Another electric pop. The lights swiveled.

Danny almost swore he heard laughter….

The half ghost’s head turned side to side, looking. Was… no one else really seeing this?

The creature…. The ghost (it must be another ghost, with the way his ghost sense was swirling in his throat) chuckled again, static echoing through the speakers.

A few people winced, covering their ears. “Okay, okay, no more dad jokes.”

Somehow no one was seeing the ghost. How? Other people had been able to see the Lunch Lady and Dora. Wait…. It must have been the partial invisibility like Sidney showed him. But why…

“Hey!” The word was hissed, just a hint of ghostly echo. 

Danny’s head jerked, looking for the source of the noise. His gaze scanned the crowd. For just a second, his eyes met his mother’s, her brow wrinkled in concern as she stood up. 

Then… his gaze met a wavering, ethereal figure. Johnny…

“Cut it out!” The ghostly man hissed. He drifted forward, unseen by the crowd even as he literally, intangibly floated through them. 

Danny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I’m not doing anything.” He muttered hotly, earning a confused look from Tucker.

The biker ghost “What? No, not-” Another crackle cut off the word, the man covering his ears. His eyes narrowed, fixing on….

The strange embodiment of darkness. 

Oh. Danny realized 

“Cut it out, Shadow.” The man complained. “I’m actually enjoying this. Go make a kid drop their ice cream or something.”

Danny raised a brow at that last part but Johnny waved him off, attention still on the shadow.

“I’ll bring out the flashlight, man. Just you keep it up and see.” The other ghost threatened.

The living (unliving? undead?) shadow seemed to deflate. With something like a sigh, it zipped off.

The lights came back on. “Hey!” Several positive shouts came from the stage. 

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Danny picked up the words, from the other guitarist and unamplified.

The half ghost turned his attention back to Johnny. “What was that about?” He asked quietly.

The man shrugged. “There’s a reason they call me Unlucky Johnny 13.” He motioned, waving in the general direction the shadow had gone. “Thing’s got a mind of its own.”

That… answered no questions. But the other ghost ignored Danny’s confused look, instead lifting a hand. “There you are Kitty.” His eyes lit up and in a blink, he disappeared, materializing at the green-haired woman’s side seconds later.

Danny just blinked, taking in what had just happened. That was… something.

“...feel like my ears are burning. They’re talking about me, aren’t they?” The words drew the half ghost’s attention back. The guitarist pointed his thumb at his bandmates. “I’m being voted out of the band, aren’t I?” The look was falsely aghast. “This’ll be my last show with the Protest, guys. It’s been fun.”

What the heck had he missed?

Just then, his mom tapped on his shoulder.

Danny turned jerkily, surprised. “When did you get here?”

The woman’s brow furrowed in concern. “You had a strange look on your face. Is everything alright sweetie? ”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” His eyes flickered to the two ghosts standing at the edge of the crowd. The halfa’s voice lowered, stepping closer to the woman. “There’s two ghosts, the biker couple we saw in the Realms. And this weird shadow ghost that was messing with the sound. The dude, Johnny, yelled at it to stop and it flew off somewhere.”

His mom looked in the direction his gaze had flickered. “I can’t see them.”

“I don’t think anyone else can either. Just me.” The boy shrugged. “It’s a ghost thing.”

“What are they doing?” She asked.

“Just watching the show. Johnny said they came through a natural portal and wanted to have some fun.”

Her forehead wrinkled in worry at the statement. “A natural portal again?”

“We’re good to go!” The crowd cheering interrupted Danny’s response. Josh’s words echoed. “Let’s start this again.” 

“We can talk later.” Danny had to raise his voice to be heard. Accepting a nod in response, he turned back to the front.

The band was walking off the stage, only to return moments later to cheers. 

The instruments pounded. The singer held the mic to his mouth and… “I caught you like the monster hiding under my bed….”

The song started again and Danny jumped, previous confusion and worry quickly forgotten.

“You’re just a paper! A paper tiger! Nothing more than a silver tongued liar! Paper! Paper Tiger! Incinerated by my new found fire!”

The crowd jumped and screamed. Song after song, excitement built.

Josh sang. “You may feel a change but don't be afraid.” 

“The transformation has just begun!” The short-haired guitarist quipped with a grin, pointing at the audience….

The words half-chanted. “In the freak show. In the freak show. In the freak show.” Hands flailed, shoulders shook as Danny and his friends danced.

 “Your mind will be blown away! Hey!” Each word punctuated by a fist to the sky. “Hey! Hey!” 

“Welcome to the Freakshow!” Second chorus ending, the crowd reached a fever pitch.

His heart beating in time with the music, Danny head-banged. His hair flung, dripping with sweat.

Something square and silver at the edge of his vision. Head turned, brow furrowed. His mom had her phone out, lens facing him. 

The boy snorted. Sore neck bobbing faster, he stuck out his tongue at her….

In the small break before the next song… “You’re supposed to take pictures of the band, not me!” Danny laughed…

The set forgaged on. Shredding guitars, pounding drums, screamed words. The songs were incredible. And the message in between…

“If you leave here tonight with one thing, know that you are loved so much. Do you guys understand me?” Murmurs of agreement. “So much. You have no idea.” Josh’s eyes were wide and earnest, so much conviction behind the words. “After we’re done playing tonight, we will be over at the merch tent. Please come talk to us. You are looking at four sinners so we don’t have all the answers, I promise you that. We don’t. We would love to hear your story. We’d love to pray with you. We’d love to talk with you. That’s why we’re here. That’s why all of these bands are here, why we drove hundreds of miles to be here today. To share the hope that we have in Jesus. We love you guys so so much. Come hang out with us. We’ve got a few more for you….”

Danny’s heart squeezed, something deep in him touched by the words. He didn’t know about all of this, but that offer… to be heard, to be listened to. There were plenty of things he couldn’t say but…

Another song started. By now, the almost euphoric excitement had smoothed, lessened, morphed into a more quiet, heartfelt joy. Even still, the words sent goose bumps over the half ghost’s arm.

“This is the time for life revolution

Setting a course to reclaim the broken.

We look to find those lost in the night.

Following hearts that lead like a compass

Fire will rise and we let it guide us.”

The singer leaned over the crowd and the half ghost sang, his soul pouring into each syllable. “Despite the pain, we’ll stay unbroken.” 

Each voice ringing in harmony, brown eyes and blue eyes met. Something in Danny’s chest fluttered, breathless and awed. He could never describe the feeling, not completely.  But when gazes met… belief resonated. Both meant every single word….

To cheers, the set ended. The lights dimmed as people started walking away. And for a long moment, Danny stood in front of the stage, eyes wide and heart light. That amazed feeling stirred…

“We need to get a picture!” Jazz’s hand on his shoulder drew him out of himself.

“Yeah. Go for it.” The boy smiled, letting his sister put her arm around him. 

The pair took a selfie, each with matching grins. The red-head lowered the phone. And Danny finally registered his friends and family hovering around him.

“That first band was so good!” His dad gushed. “They’re just like that band I was in in college! Good ol’ Skunk Punks! But they’ve got much better hair. And better lyrics.”

“Your strengths are in things other than lyrical composition, dear.” His mom graciously didn’t speak on the hair comment. 

Sam pulled him and Tucker across the grass. “We need to get pictures with everyone! And merch! I want one of like everything.”

“Yes! I need the GFM snapback. Their set was so good!” The technogeek laughed, pointing at the icing staining her shirt. “They got you to wear pink. And.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m the only one who didn’t get icing on them

The goth rolled her eyes but then a mischievous look passed her face. “That’s what you think.” 

“What are you- Hey!”

She swiped a glob of crusting icing from her shirt and shoved it at him. “Ha!”

“Not my beret! Sam, how could you!?”

Danny just laughed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyone bought merch. The Relent Ghost shirt and a wristband for GFM and The Protest for Danny. For Sam, the pink and black skateboard, a delightfully cute and creepy pink, green, and black shirt, and a bunch of CDs. (“Who even buys CDs anymore? You can just stream that.” Tucker wrinkled his nose. The goth pulled his hand down over his face. “I want to actually support the bands I like, Tucker. Spotify doesn’t deserve a cent.) The technogeek proceeded to buy his own CD and his coveted snapback.

Danny’s parents even got in on the action. Dad apparently bought a Chaotic Resemblance shirt for everyone in the family. And the famed pink leather bracelet.

Pictures were taken with every band. 

“A silly one next!” Noses were scrunched up in ridiculous expressions. Two members of the Protest pretended to be punching each other. Danny laughed more still.

Words were exchanged, excited ones about the show….

“Awesome set!” Each GFM member was offered a high five.

More casual ones, about school and interests. (Unsurprisingly Josh and co were very personable.)

“Yeah. I just started ninth grade. It’s going pretty well.” “What’s your favorite subject?” “Science. I’ve always wanted to be an astronaut…”

And somber ones.

The last band Danny got to speak to was Relent. His heart twisted, words lingering heavy on it. You should say something, a voice in him, not audible but very much present, whispered. The ghost boy listened.

“The last few months have been… really hard for me, for a bunch of reasons. But… I’ve listened to your song, Heavy a bunch of times. And it’s really helped me. Like… uhh… when I couldn’t sleep and just wanted to cry. And… yeah. I’ve listened to it alot and all your other songs so…. Thanks for writing them and putting them out. And… uh… thanks for being here tonight.”

Danny looked down, nervousness flopping his stomach.

“That’s why we write songs and tour.” The lead singer (In their introduction, Danny learned his name was Miggy.) “Like I said on stage, I hope that our songs help people. Thanks for telling me, man.” His expression softened, earnest. “Do you mind if I pray for you?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Danny’s friends and family walked back towards the GEV, the boy lingered for just a moment to look over the field. For just a second, three ghostly figures flickered into existence. Kitty and Johnny, the black shadow curled at the man’s feet, floated in front of the stage, unseen by all except the half ghost. The man nodded in his direction, lifting a cigarette-gripping hand. The green-haired woman waved.

Danny returned the gesture, lips quirking as the couple disappeared. He had a feeling he’d be seeing them again.

With the ghosts gone, the boy turned his attention back to the activity across the field. The bands were still active, packing up instruments and putting them in the vans and buses. Soon enough the stage would be torn down as well, leaving no evidence of the concert that had been here. 

Even so, the half ghost’s heavy heart felt lightened. He felt better after talking to Miggy; that had been good for him. The boy sighed. This had been an incredible night. 

Sam bumped his shoulder. “Come on. Tucker asked and your dad said he’s taking us to Nasty Burger for shakes.”

It looked like the night wasn’t over yet.

Everyone piled into the GEV and his dad pulled out, leaving the almost empty parking lot. A few minutes later found the trio sitting at a picnic table outside the restaurant, each nursing their own shake.

Chatter batted back and forth, jokes and memories. The three looked through the pictures that had been taken.

“That’s a good one! You got him mid-head bang.” Tucker pointed while he and Danny leaned over Sam’s phone, admiring a picture of Josh Bramlett with his hair spread in a halo above him.

“I love this one.” The goth swiped. This photo was of GFM’s drummer, an excited grin plastered on her face.

“Drummer pics are so hard to get! That’s awesome.” Danny congratulated.

The conversation continued on, milkshakes almost finished and… 

The half ghost sighed. “Thanks guys for being there.” 

That got him strange looks. “Dude, of course we were going to come to the show with you.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I…” Danny shook his head. He wasn’t exactly sure what prompted this line of thinking but… “I mean…. Thanks for being here for me. With the accident and then splitting myself. I know it’s been hard and you’ve been the best friends I could ask for.” He’d told them as much at Sam’s that day, when they’d convinced Phantom to talk to Fenton about re-fusing and his denial of his death. And even before that…

He blushed. “You guys are the ones who convinced Phantom me to stop denying we were the same person. You guys… you saw me.. You knew me even when I didn’t know myself. So…” He bit his lip. “Thanks for sticking with me,” There in the Hot Topic dressing room, after his ghost self had flown off… “even when I was a jerk to you guys.” 

His friends’ expressions softened. “You really don’t have to thank us, Danny. That’s what friends are for.” Sam said.

“Yeah.” Tucker smiled. “We’re your friends. Of course we’ll stick by you. You’d do the same for us.”

Danny sighed, shaking his head. “Like I said, you guys are the best.”

His best friends both reacted out. An awkward group hug… the table in the middle had just their arms touching each other, heads close together. But Danny closed his eyes, heart warm.

This really had been the best day.

End note: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy it. :) As always, feel free to let me know what you liked.

[telemna-hyelle]

HW Zelink, you say…

Would you possibly be interested in a little snippet of a piece I’ve been working on?

~~~~

She’s not sure where they stand these days, in terms of their… relationship.

They were confidants, during her abrupt seizure of the throne and his promotion, but quickly progressed to friends. Good friends.

They’ve been in this position before- her laying next to him, him half asleep and groggy.

It had started slowly- merely seeing him at meetings, to discuss strategy, to observe him.

Then she’d slowly found herself seeking his company, the lightness that he brought her that no one else did. He’d given her something she hadn’t had in a long time- hope. But it’s not only that.

He’s kind, charming, yes, a little arrogant, but he’s toned it down to confidence and he’s rightfully so, and he makes her laugh.

Back when he’d gotten injured… a knife to the rib cage… she had gone to visit him.

Found him fighting the haze of painkillers, sweating and panicked as he desperately tried to stay awake.

He’d refused to sleep until she was there with him, his hand in hers. That was the first shift in their relationship.

Once he’s healed, he visits her late in the night.

Nothing was said for a long while as she gazed over map after map after map, and he wrote condolence letter after condolence letter after condolence letter to parents who would never again see their children, wives who would never again see their husbands, children who would never again see their fathers.

“I think we just need to risk an all out seizure on the castle.” She says finally, sighing.

It’d be costly- lots of people would die- but… it’s their last hope to try to win this war. If they manage to get the castle, it’ll have to be the end.

Ganondorf would be forced to surrender.

And without plague spreading through their soldiers, their numbers higher than ever… now would be the best time.

He stands silently, peering over her shoulder to look at the maps and reports she’s written up.

His eyes take a while to make sense of the words, she knows he still struggles with reading, but eventually he nods.

Points to where the third artillery is stationed, pointing to the castle next.

“My thoughts exactly. Third artillery has been the best at seizures. We need them… probably the fifth, too… the real question is which one or two to leave out.”

“Six.” Link says quietly, and she startles at the rare sound of his voice. He doesn’t speak much.

But she nods slowly. “Sixth… makes sense, youngest group, fresh out of training… save them in case…”

“And we want the first on the front lines if we’re able to. See how many people that gives us, if it’s less than… twenty five thousand, put the first with us at the castle.”

She quickly finds her numbers, adds up the math…

“This might work.” She breathes, leaning her head back and slouching in her chair.

Gives a chokes laugh, moving her hands to smile at him. “This might work. Link… we can win. We can win this.”

He’d taken her hand, given her a rare smile. This is the second shift in their relationship.

“I know we will with you leading us.” He’d said softly, and despite herself, the composure she’s been taught all her life, her cheeks flush and she looks away.

But smiles.

The last one was when she was sick.

Right after the war, on their way back from returning the master sword, she’d fallen ill.

Bedridden with a fever that quickly spiked, grew worse.

She was isolated other than one maid who was providing her needs, but Link sneaks into her tent one bad night when fever dreams and uncontrollable tremors are keeping her awake.

“You shouldn’t be here.” She rasps, coughing uncontrollably with the words.

“Shh… you know me, I’m a rebel.” He smiles, getting her some water, and she chokes again as she laughs.

Replaces the cool compress on her forehead, which instantly makes her feel about ten times better.

And even more so when he takes a chair and sits at the side of her sick bed, talking and just making her smile despite her misery until she manages to drift off.

He’s still there when she wakes in a panic, thrashing and in tears. Calms her down, reassuring her gently, coaxing her back to sleep.

Part of her thinks that’s been their biggest jump- after that, she’d started waking him when she’d had nightmares.

Leaves her room, going down to his quarters, waking him- which usually means also calming him down- dragging him up to her room in the dead of night.

He never seems to mind.

One night, after a particularly bad nightmare, she’s feeling particularly brave and is laying in his arms.

“Why do you never wake me after nightmares?” She asks him in a whisper, and his hands pause in her hair.

“Well… a lot of times I’m just… paralyzed for a minute or two. Thought it’s frightening… it gives me a minute to calm myself and remind myself that you- everything’s fine and it was just a dream.”

“That sounds awful.” She mumbles, eyes slowly closing. “You should wake me. If you wanted, of course.”

She can feel him nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She’s too tired to reply, and she drifts off soon after that. That’s the morning Impa had busted them, walking into her room to wake her and screaming in a very un-Impa like way when she saw Link, there, too.

After they’d both finished laughing, she’d lectured their ears off about making smart choices and how the future of Hyrule was no joke and they must think about how this will end once they have to decide on a king.

Their insistence that there was nothing between them fell on deaf ears.

It was a hundred times worth it to see Link laugh like that- careless, breathless and gasping, nearly falling off the bed he was laughing so hard.

Even Impa had been unable to contain a smile.

She’d never seen him that happy- and she has yet to see it again. But she hopes someday she’ll be able to.

After that, he had started waking her. Only a few times, still not nearly to the amount that she woke him, but she felt better about it all the same.

She’d woken up to her door opening, soft footsteps, someone sitting at the edge of her bed, a shaky sigh.

“C’mere.” She mumbles, and feels Link jump.

But he lays next to her, trembling ever so slightly.

Wraps her in his arms, sighing slowly and shakily.

Her hand finds his hair groggily, fingers brushing through it.

“You’re ok.” He whispers, squeezing her gently.

“I’m ok.” She repeats softly, and they’re silent for a while. She thinks he falls asleep, slowly relaxing and falling still.

She must fall asleep, too, because next thing she knows she’s waking up with the sun streaming through her curtains.

Impa let her sleep in… that’s odd.

But she won’t complain. Just slowly reaches to take Link’s hand, thumb brushing over the mark of the triforce on the back.

He shifts sleepily, eyes fluttering but not quite opening.

“Link.” She says softly, squeezing his hand gently.

Bright blue eyes squint blearily, humming softly in question.

“Time to get up, rise and shine.”

He groans, sighing, but sits up and rubs his eyes.

Averts his eyes as she dresses herself- she no longer lets her maids do it- then leaves the room with her.

He’s still in his sleep clothes, yawning as he stumbles back down to his quarters and into his room.

She waits in the hall for a moment, and then they head to the library together.

As the throne room was destroyed during their final siege, it’s where she does most of her work.

Relieved of his duties for a short while, Link just opts to join her.

And that had led them to where their relationship stands now.

Laying next to Link, in a couch that was not nearly large enough for the both of them, curled up under a thin blanket.

Without her intention, her eyes slip shut and she does actually doze off, listening to Link softly hum next to her.

~~~~

You can ignore if you want, just thought I’d share bc you mentioned it and I also love HW Zelink as I recently finished the game!

Hope you’re having an excellent day 💜

AHHHH THIS IS AMAZING

KLFJAFKJSDLKFJLKSDFJLSDJFLSDJF

*drinks it like water* EXACTLY WHAT THE DOCTOR ORDERED THANK YOU

[delta-orionis]

Tuesday Again No Problem 9/17/24

This one has Opinions in it!

Listening

I was listening to the most recent Trashfuture bonus episode the other day and I was REELING from their coverage of the data center Elon wants to establish for the stupid Twitter chatbot Grok.

The episode is premium so I can’t link it here, but I’ll share the relevant parts of the transcript:

Twitter wants to establish a data center in Memphis (they’re calling it a supercomputer but let’s be real here, it’s a data center) to power their Grok chatbot. It’s supposed to use ungodly amounts of water and electricity, and they’re powering it with DIESEL?? DIESEL. OF ALL THINGS. Local residents already have elevated rates of asthma because of the factories in the neighborhood and the pollution created by this data center will only make that worse.

Listen, when I said I liked Iterators, I did not mean that I wanted shittier versions of them to be made REAL, run on DIESEL, and are used for the express purpose of coming up with new slurs. Ugh.

In other news, I’m stuck listening to the Touhou Subterranean Animism OST on loop again.

I think this might be my favorite OST of the whole series; all the songs are imbued with so much character. Even though I haven’t played the games in years, the OST still brings up memories of playing the game on my old computer.

Watching

Not a very watch-heavy week for me. I guess I can put the Rain World ambience videos I’ve been pulling up in the background, at least that’s something.

Playing

More Rain World Random Buff mode. Not much to report here, I’ve mostly been sticking to shorter runs because my computer tends to get unhappy when I start to stack on too many buff cards.

Making

I posted two new ask blog responses! Yippee!

These ones actually involve interactions with other people’s characters, which is something I’ve been meaning to work on for a while. Exciting!

—

I’ll check back next week, you know the deal.