#i miss reading open-mindness and reading comprehension in people :(

[hastalavistabyebye]

There should have an automatic tag for drama. Someone is whining about something stupid ? Drama tagged. Someone has misunderstand what the fuck subtext is again ? Drama tagged. Someone is being a little dick about shipping/a characterisation/headcanons ? Drama tagged.

And I would just need to block the drama tag and be at peace with the stupid jokes (/affectionate), the pretty art, the nice fics and the fascinating meta.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 35: Oliver's Walk

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September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control

Oliver woke up slowly, stretching and yawning and rolling over several times to doze off again, before finally sitting up.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well. He was utterly relaxed as he lounged in bed, with nothing particularly pressing driving him out of his soft cocoon of blankets. He was free to daydream about what had happened the night before, how pleasing he'd been to his master.

He'd successfully fed his master, made him happier and stronger, fulfilled the purpose Miss Lily had set for him back at the auction house, and it felt just as good as he'd hoped it would. Better, truly. 

It was late afternoon, and the sun was low in the sky, so he had some time before Alexander awoke. He didn't even really seem to have particular duties here besides the feedings and making his master coffee. He'd have plenty of time to have breakfast and read.

Before too long, he was in the library with a steaming hot mug, perusing the books once again and trying to pick out something to sit down with. He chose a comprehensive-looking book on merfolk, bound in attractive teal letter with embossed silver ink, and was delighted to find that it was illustrated with many interesting plates of strange sea creatures.

All of this was real -- merfolk, vampires, magic -- and he was a part of it.

It felt right, the distress of how he'd arrived here slowly starting to ebb from his mind. It was just so comfortable here in his Master's library, curled into a leather sofa with a mug of rich coffee.

As the sun dipped low in the sky, forcing Oliver to ignite a gas lamp to have enough light to read, he remembered that he wanted to make fresh coffee for his master as he awoke. It was the least he could do, really.

He bought you at auction, you were kidnapped --

Oliver pushed aside the unhelpful intrusion as he bustled about the kitchen. He was here now, with no means of escape. Wasn't it better to be contented with it?

"Good evening, Oliver," said Alexander from the kitchen doorway. "I thought I smelled coffee. Thank you for making it."

"You're welcome, sir," said Oliver, pleased to be helpful. His master really did look much healthier, his eyes brighter and skin less deathly pale, and he was glad to see it.

Useful, he was useful. And wanted. 

Alexander sipped at the coffee, and nodded in approval. "The weather is fine tonight, if a bit brisk. I was thinking some fresh air would do me good. Would you care to accompany me on my walk?"

"Yes, sir!" Oliver eagerly jumped at the chance. He hadn't been outside for more than a few minutes ever since the night he'd been kidnapped.

Soon enough, he was perusing his wardrobe for something warm that didn't expose his neck, and settled on a soft red flannel shirt and slacks. Everything fit him perfectly, which made sense given that his master had his measurements from the auction house.

And then his master opened the front door, and he was out in the cool night air, in the ordinary bustle of the city, unrestrained except for the very real fetters on his mind. Alexander just trusted him to stand on the sidewalk and wait patiently while he fiddled with the key to the mansion. Oliver glanced around at the ordinary people going about their usual nightly business. A workman in overalls tipped his hat and bid Oliver good evening. No one would ever have guessed that he was in thrall to a vampire.

"How about the park?" Alexander wrapped around Oliver's arm possessively as they began to make their way down the street, stirring up the deeply buried desires Oliver had often felt while watching other people walk down the street arm-in-arm. Even if they were master and thrall and not lovers or even truly friends... perhaps he was affection starved enough that simply feeling wanted was enough.

He couldn't help but notice how passersby seemed to instinctually give them a wide berth. It was no doubt a result of his Master's vampiric aura. How had he not sensed it before, when Alexander was a customer in his shop? Or had he, and it was one of the things that had interested him in his former patron long before he realized Alexander's true nature?

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it? Crisp and clear," said Alexander, He gazed up at the sky, and Oliver's gaze followed. The moon was half-full and bright stars were visible, with no clouds in sight. "An ideal night for stargazing. Perhaps I'll perch myself on the roof later. You're welcome to join me. I could teach you how to read the stars."

"You know fortune-telling, sir?"

"A dear friend of mine taught me," he said. "I don't put real stock in it, of course. Comforting fairy tales."

"I've rather always enjoyed comforting fairy tales, sir."

"As do I." 

They passed a grand theater, where well-dressed patrons in fine suits and furs were lining up to see an evening performance. Alexander stopped to look at the scene. "Do you enjoy live music, Oliver? The theater? Stage performances in general?"

"It's not something I partook in often, sir, but I think I would enjoy it, given a chance." Money had often been tight, movies were cheap, and books were always at hand, so the sort of high society entertainment offered by the theater Alexander was pointing out to him had not been a priority.

"The next performance at this theater is going to be a renowned ballet company from France. I've been spending too much time hidden away in my manor lately, so I was thinking of attending. Would you be interested?"

"Me, sir?" He was surprised that his master was inviting him along to the ballet, as though he were a companion and not a thrall. "I think it'd be very interesting, but I don't know the etiquette. I don't want to embarrass you, sir."

"Nonsense, you wouldn't embarrass me in the slightest. You're perfectly conditioned and I would set out an appropriate wardrobe for you. You wouldn't have to worry about a thing other than enjoying the dance. What do you think?"

"I think that sounds more than agreeable, sir," he said, pleased that his master trusted him, and that he would be allowed entertainment and pleasurable outings.

They reached the park, and the moon and flickering gaslights gave just enough light for Oliver to see the trees turning red and gold. It'd be the height of fall soon enough, and he'd been looking forward to fresh apples and cooler temperatures. Now, he was just grateful to be here in the park, with the chill night wind blowing across his face -- during his time in the auction house's captivity, he had often feared never seeing the outside again.

"Oliver," said Alexander, breaking his train of thought. "I would like to get to know you better."

Oliver looked away. "I'm afraid there isn't a lot to get to know, sir. You already know of my bookshop, which consumed the bulk of my time."

"I'm sure there's more than that." His intense eyes bore down on Oliver. "I wish for you to be happy while you're in my care. What is it that you want? I'll try to provide, if I can."

Was this a test? "I wish to serve you, Master?"

The displeased look in his Master's eyes indicated that that wasn't the answer he wanted. "I mean before all this. Before me, before vampires. I want to honestly know what it was you desired from life."

He was a bit stunned that his master had even asked that, surprised that he could still have desires other than feeding and serving the vampire. What did he want?

Growing up, he hadn't had much in the way of dreams. Dreams were for the books he read. His designated path was to inherit the bookshop from his ailing father and run it according to his best instincts -- and he'd been reasonably content with that future. Other dreams, of seeing the world, of adventure and romance, of art and culture, those had always seemed so far away, meant for other people. There was no use in trading a comfortable, ordinary life to chase something risky. He'd never been the sort.

Strange, then, that the first time in a long time that he'd given serious thought to what he wanted in life was after being imprisoned and conditioned.

He trusted his master. He didn't think he would be punished for speaking his mind. He'd said there would be no punishments, after all.

"I would like to travel, sir," he said softly. "I always wanted to see more of the world than this small city. To enjoy different cultures, to see the sights I read about in books... but money was always tight, and I had the bookshop to look after, and the idea of leaving home was overwhelming. But that's one thing I think I might want."

"Indeed. I'm much the same." Alexander sighed. "Unfortunately, I'm as trapped in the city as you, the curse of my sire. Otherwise, I would happily take you along to travel the world. Someday..."

"Why has your sire trapped you in the city, sir?"

"What else would you desire?" said his master, as though he hadn't heard the question. "There must be something in my power to grant you."

Something smaller, perhaps. "I enjoy sketching, although I've never been good at it. If I could have a notebook and pencils."

"Of course, that's no trouble at all. I'll locate the finest supplies in the city. Anything else?"

"Well... I spent a great deal of my time thinking about the supernatural, sir," said Oliver. "Now that I know that the inhabitants of fairy tales and horror stories are real, I think I'd enjoy learning all that I can about them."

Alexander brightened at this. "Now, that's absolutely within my wheelhouse. When we return to the manor, I can put together an assortment of books that will serve as a primer on the actual supernatural world, not the fantasies imagined by humans," he said. "There are places I could take you to meet more of my kind, and others besides. Social clubs I don't often frequent, but would be welcome. I could keep you safe."

"Oh, can you?" said a snide voice behind them.

His master whipped around in a flash, pushing Oliver behind him. It was a young woman in a torn, dirty red dress, her messy hair falling around her face. "You've got a real treat there, don't you?" she said, grinning. "He smells delicious, and I'm awfully hungry."

"Newly sired," Alexander said. "I advise you against challenging vampires like me unless you are sure you can win. There's plenty of blood in the city, but also plenty of vampire hunters, and a fight could attract their attention."

"What's a little attention? I'm not just hungry for blood, you know. I'm hungry to take down cocky old vampires like you who haven't been challenged in a century. I think -- I think --"

His Master's vampiric aura had been growing unbearably thick and oppressive as they talked. Oliver found all thoughts being forced from his mind, fighting the urge to drop to his knees in a daze. The other vampire seemed to be struggling just as much, her speech faltering and knees shaking.

"I remember what it was like to be a young vampire," said Alexander, stopping a few steps away form her. "That's why I'm going to give you a chance to leave. Go to 32 Sparrow Road, about a mile and a half from here, and you'll find a place that sells blood cheap. Have your fill there."

The vampire nodded slowly, and then faster, backing away from his master and breaking into a run.

"You scared her off," said Oliver, as his thoughts began to return to him.

"It's the best way to handle situations like this. It's unlikely she'll last out the winter, but I don't care to be the one to kill her. Even if she's learned her lesson about confronting stronger vampires, she'll probably be picked off by a hunter while stalking the streets for food." Alexander shrugged. "In fact, if there are fledglings about, there are probably hunters. Let's go home before we receive any more unwanted company."

Oliver wasn't sure if it was his imagination or if Alexander really was gripping him more tightly on their way back to the manor.

"Let me check the mail before we go inside," said Alexander, pulling a few cards from the box. "Oh, a calling card from Lily. I suppose she did say she would be by for a social call soon. And she wants to bring Ruth." He turned to Oliver. "I believe you've met Lily's thrall, Miriam. Ruth will probably bring her favorite thrall, Charlie. You'll have someone to talk to that isn't a vampire."

"That sounds very good, sir." Oliver was surprised yet again, as he didn't expect to be allowed to socialize with other thralls. Miriam wasn't much of a conversationalist, but perhaps this Charlie would be better.

His master was flipping through a few more envelopes until he reached one plastered with stickers and stamps. Overseas mail, it seemed to be. Alexander's face lit up in a way Oliver hadn't seen before. "Let's go in."

Alexander only stopped briefly to remove his shoes and coat before heading into the library, Oliver trailing behind. He tossed the rest of the mail down on the desk before fetching a letter opener and ripping open the mail that had captured his attention. His eyes traveled back and forth rapidly, his smile growing.

"Sir?" said Oliver, unable to contain his curiosity.

"Oliver," said Alexander, startled as though he'd forgotten Oliver was there. "My dear friend is arriving for a short visit in the next few weeks."

"You seem very pleased about this, sir," he said. "Is your friend also a vampire?"

"You have nothing to fear. He'll like you."

He noticed that Alexander didn't say that Oliver would like him.

"I was going to put together a reading list for you, wasn't I?" said his master, breezing past Oliver and into the stacks, that uncharacteristic smile still plastered on his face. "Let me put that together, and that will occupy you while I compose my response to my friend."

Oliver nodded, questions swirling in his mind, unsure which, of any, to ask, and feeling that Alexander was likely to dodge them all.

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A bit of an interlude before the shit hits the fan.

I'm trying to build up a bit of a buffer so that I can continue weekly postings of the main story, and then I hope to burn down some of this inbox backlog...

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives

[bridgerteon]

This is going to be an extremely long thread of my opinion about Bridgerton S3, especially Polin (and comparing Polin to a certain ATLA ship). So, good luck reading it.

I knew there are a lot of mixed opinions about Bridgerton S3; I have too. Around 50-60% from the book, Romancing Mr Bridgerton, has adapted to the show, which I, as a book reader, am happy to see. I also love the changes from the book that showcases Penelope (and Nicola Coughlan) to shine with awesomeness and deserves a lot of love and recognition after what she's been through.

I can understand why Netflix split into two parts. Part 1 is entertaining, pining and rom-com. While Part 2 is anxiety, emotional and romantic drama. Probably to let viewers breathe. But please don't do that again; I like to binge the whole thing without waiting.

There are:

- Great scenes -> Portia reconciling to Pen and being supportive (thanks Colin!) and Pen having the confidence to reveal herself as Lady Whistledown (LW), instead of letting Colin steal the spotlight for her. Also the Francesca/John romance as they "match their freak". There's actually a lot of great scenes, from Keeping Up With The Featheringtons to Peneloise reconciliation.

- Revenge scenes I like -> Penelope telling off Colin for being an asshole. Also, Lord Debling courting Penelope, making Colin jealous. The Vindication™ for Pen because that's how she feels.

- Some I groaned -> a threesome? Like really? I find it funny, but cringy.

- Some I am suspicious -> Michael Stirling [man] is gender-swapped to Michaela Stirling [woman], but I'm more cautious than angry about the change. Michaela is so goddamn pretty though, heh. I don't mind inclusivity, but it should be addressed with care if it's done for a main Bridgerton character. Besides, I like Francesca's story from the book, When He Was Wicked, and how it explains about infertility. My opinion is that the showrunner should just keep the characters and important parts of the storyline as it is. But I'll see how it goes and hope for the best.

- And others that make no sense -> the lack of Kanthony, like where are they!? And why do they disappear all the time!? This is not them as they are always attentive. They were excellent in managing the Bridgertons and their mess. I love Kanthony so bring them back!!!

What I will analyse and defend is Show Polin.

When I read negative reviews about them, I shake my head in disappointment because the fans didn't understand it. It's like some people have a lack of media literacy. I'm open-minded and I like to analyse critically how and why it happens rather than comparing with other seasons of Bridgerton; I see the show as a separate entity from the books and I still enjoy it as it is. Therefore, I have better comprehension. I also read an article where Luke Newton explains why Colin is Jelly, as shown below. His insight justifies my point.

Since I read RMB, it does give me first-hand insight on the up-and-down relationship between Colin Bridgerton and Penelope Featherington-Bridgerton. I also included a favourite ship of mine from Avatar: the Last Airbender (ATLA) for comparison and how Polin's dynamics makes sense to me. (There's no need to have knowledge of ATLA).

So here's my opinion about Polin:

To be honest, I was expecting Katara/Aang tropes in Polin, as they are both friends-to-lovers ships obviously. What I don't expect is that show Polin is more related to Katara/Zuko (Zutara) instead, which is awesome (as an unfortunate Zutara shipper)!

I find Polin's love story to be as realistic as possible, knowing that a love story is not all sunshines, lollipops and rainbows. There will be disputes, doubts and secrets; I'm satisfied that they are addressed. However, there are some scenes from Polin that I am mad about or feeling something is missing.

Also, I DON'T CARE that Polin does not have the CHEMISTRY similar to Kanthony or Saphne(?) (Simon/Daphne). They have the CONNECTION with each other. Friends-to-lovers don't need chemistry; it rarely exists in real life. Friends-to-lovers stories are messy, awkward and full of disagreements, but the connection and their love for each other is always there between them. They are there since Season 1, are always seeking each other and are always themselves around each other. That's as real as it gets.

Themes I like from Polin and how it compares to Zutara:

1. Hiding their true self: Colin having some swag, being impassive, nonchalant mood, and goes to brothels; I find it weird. However, someone analysed that it's a facade because Penelope doesn't write to him, so he went on a teen girl phase and lost his damn mind, heh. Eloise, Pen and Violet know that that is not the Real Colin, who is a soft boi. He mentions that he is yearning for home and wants to feel like he belongs somewhere and to be seen for who he truly is.

This is similar to Zuko when he was sad/mad that he was banished and his father didn't love him, so his personality became antagonistic. Iroh knew that's not the Real Zuko, who was a gentle boi. Therefore, Iroh planned to nudge Zuko to a different side rather than following Ozai's goals.

Additionally, Penelope disguises herself as Lady Whistledown, Katara as The Painted Lady, Zuko as The Blue Spirit, and Colin as The Travelling Englishman/Pirate.

2. BETRAYAL: (I can't emphasise this enough because this theme let's me understand and love Polin). Penelope is anguished about Colin's comments that he don't give a 💩 about her and will never court her (Le Asshole 101 😒). Colin is heartbroken that Pen is LW*. Katara and Iroh were shattered that Zuko joined Azula to fight against Aang in Ba Sing Se. All of these events are unforgivable.

*(The fact that Luke Newton cried in the LW reveal scene as well as angry portrays Colin as heartbroken than enraged, which makes the scene more heartwrenching. I like that so much better than Colin having a temper like in the books and Katara just enraged when Zuko attacked her in Ba Sing Se. Thanks, Luke Newton, for making me feel sorry for Colin 😏).

Another one is that Colin argues with Penelope that she wrote negative comments on LW about his family, Marina Thompson (in my opinion, she deserved it for being deceptive), himself, herself and everyone else. He also feels that she has a "planned entrapment" for him to marry her, even though I knew he didn't mean it; he is devastated that she is not who she seems to be. Colin wants to feel needed and really yearns to love her fully because he wants to provide everything for her. But he doesn't think he's enough or unworthy for Pen and that he's not sure he'll ever accept Pen as LW, which makes me sad. Also... he's envious that she's more successful than him since she's rich as hell, an experienced writer and got her 💩 together; something he wants to achieve. But dude, you married a Sugar Mama! Similarly, Katara argued with Zuko after the Ba Sing Se fiasco and told him to bring her mother back; I found it absurd too, but I knew she was upset for being deceived and hurt as well, like Colin.

3. Self-confidence and accountability: Pen has brought her own voice to address the whole Ton that she is LW and to let them judge her. Nicola Coughlan has done it perfectly in that, as a shy but confident woman. She understands that people are hurt from her comments, but she wants to have a purpose - not as a spy though, heh. She wants the world where women, especially shy wallflowers, are seen and shine brighter as well in a patriarchy world. Also she understands that Colin is upset that she is LW, but she's adamant that she is and nothing will separate LW from her. LW is power and it helps women like Penelope earn her place in society, besides dilly-dally.

Also, Colin pushes Lord Debling away so that Colin can have a moment with Pen to change her mind and make her pick him, choose him and love him. He doesn't care that the Ton sees them, he just sees Pen. Also the way "he ran!" (thanks Dallas Liu 😏) to Pen's carriage just to confess to her. He is confident of his feelings for her, but respectful if she rejects him.

Same goes with Katara that she wanted a world where women can choose to learn waterbending to fight and men to learn healing, or both. And to Zuko that he had redeemed himself and wanted to end the war as the Firelord with ideals that brought all nations together in peace and harmony.

4. Accepting flaws and empathy: Colin accepts that Pen is LW, because he finally realises why while begging to Cressida: the isolation, the bullying, being ostracised and unappreciated, and the anger that no one will ever recognise, listen or stand up to her. But he knows she's not heartless and does regret her words that are published. Also, her letters to him amplifies that she is a great writer and that her and LW are the same person. After Pen reveals herself to the Ton that she is LW, apologises for it and explains why, Colin is more proud and in love with her.

Zuko saw Katara bloodbending (manipulating bodies through their blood). He was surprised. He didn't question it. He didn't chastise her that it's bad or that she's not herself. He accepted it as part of herself. He just wanted her to face her past and let her choose her fate. The End.

5. Conflict: Colin and Pen love each other so much, despite a Great Wall of Anger and Doubt separating them. Katara knew Zuko was not evil, but had to separate Zuko the Fire Prince with Zuko the Awkward, Caring, Flawed Boi.

Also, Katara and Zuko saw each other as legit rivals during the 100-year war. Meanwhile... well... Colin does see Pen as a rival... indirectly though as she's LW, while he is... just a Bridgerton... with no accomplishments... and a loser, heh.

6. Partnership: Pen agrees with Colin that he'll help her find a husband (even though he hired himself as one, heh). Also, Colin and Pen become writers together, as an author and columnist respectively. All hail Lord and Lady Whistledown! 🙇‍♀️ Meanwhile, Katara and Zuko became partners to find the one who killed her mother, fought together side-by-side during training and trusted each other to defeat Azula.

Extra: There's also a lot of love confessions and moments from Polin that made me giddy with joy, sad and amused (and jealousy for being single). Especially... That carriage scene, heh.

Now for the things I'm disappointed about Polin:

1. Colin doesn't tell Penelope that he forgives her verbally. Like since when did he forgive her? Katara told Zuko verbally that she forgave him, so why doesn't Colin say it to Pen? Same applies to Pen: where's her forgiveness to Colin? Unless I forget.

2. There's a quote from the book I like that Colin says “I love you. I love you with my past, and I love you for my future. I love you for the children we'll have and for the years we'll have together. I love you for every one of my smiles, and even more, for every one of your smiles” to Pen before he leaves to beg Cressida as Pen's distressed about Cressida blackmailing her. I'm sad that one is excluded.

3. Colin being an asshole for not allowing Penelope to let her fix her mess nor asking for his support at the start. Saying that "it is not up to you what we do", probably because he wants to be a hero. Dude, calm down, listen to your wife and compromise. Penelope can handle herself and does not need him to fix it for her, like she said "I do not need you to save me, I just need you to stand by me." I think it makes him feel useless as he likes to help and being needed 24/7. Besides, he makes it worse after begging Cressida, heh. Zuko survived listening to Katara's rants and threats against him, and he still wanted to make it up to her, so Colin should do the same.

4. Colin being a Drama Queen™ for not sleeping with Pen because he's an idiota; he reminds me of both Katara and Zuko since they were both Drama Queens™ as well, heh. However, it broke my heart for Pen; she deserves better and deserves to have a wedding night full of love, not doubt. Fortunately, he does sleep near their room - like Zuko waited for Katara outside her tent - because Colin still deeply loves Pen and wants to feel closer to her, despite being pissy with her. Also, he sleeps on a chaise lounge where they made love because it reminds him of the happiness they have shared before the LW mess. Additionally, he ignores his lust for her while pissed, but I think it's a good idea not to have angry sex as it's just not healthy emotionally and mentally for them.

5. It would be nice if Colin allows Pen to read or discuss his journals more, like in the books. I want to hear his thoughts more. Or maybe the backstory of how Penelope becomes LW.

6. I really want to see more of the lovey-dovey happy Polin moments without any doubts or lies between them; it's not enough. Where's the Polin sex?! Gimme more happy Polin!!!

So that's my long analysis about S3 and why I like Polin, the good and bad. Also, Polin did change my whole opinion about friends-to-lovers stories after I had a sour taste of it from a ship I'm not supportive to, but that is for another story to tell. 

[sgiandubh]

Anon rebelde.

Si vas a delatar a alguien, o si vas a informar o discutir lo que escribe, lee tu mismo la publicación correspondiente

Tal vez alguien le tendría que decir a la señora de las iniciales en mayúsculas,SDLIM para abreviar, que se aplique el cuento porque su comprensión lectora deja mucho que desear y también que tenga cuidado con todos esos blogs fantasmas que tanto la aplauden, tal vez tenga entre ellos un caballo de Troya. El que avisa no es traidor, es avisador y por cierto, hacen muy buena pareja la caja roja de Nestlé y la negra de aviación 😉

Dear (returning) Anon Rebelde,

Su última comunicación ha molestado a mucha gente de enfrente, que aparentemente se quejaba de que nuestro diálogo era imposible de seguir. Sin embargo, estoy segura de que nuestras maravillosas hermanas shipper no tienen problemas para entender el tráfico de esta escena, lo cual, según me han dicho, también es muy apreciado. Para todos los demás usaré pictogramas:

(I am translating the above paragraph I wrote myself in Spanish as a courtesy to this valued guest, just so you know - across the street. This is also NOT something you ought to have a say in, on MY page) Your last submission has annoyed many people across the street, who apparently complained about our dialogue being impossible to follow. However, I am sure our wonderful shipper sisters have no trouble understanding the traffic of this stage, which I am also told is very much appreciated.

For all the others, I will use pictograms 🙄:

👮‍♀️Translation of Anon Rebelde's question follows. Fasten your seatbelts ❗

'If you are going to tattle on someone, or if you are going to report or discuss what they write, read the relevant post for yourself' Maybe someone should tell Block Letters Lady, BLL for short, to also practice what she preaches, because her reading comprehension leaves a lot to be desired, and also to be careful with all those sock accounts that applaud her so much, maybe there's a Trojan horse among them. Not a traitor, speaking: just a warner. And by the way, the red Nestlé box and the black aviation box make a very good couple 😉

​👮‍♀️Translation of Anon Rebelde's submission has now ended. You may safely proceed to the next level ❗

I am aware of the Baby Jesus' Belly Button Feast in there, too. That is strictly their problem, Anon Rebelde, but it's still hilarious to watch them pretend to be friends with each other, etc. I think all of this is very childish, but again, querida - we do things a bit differently, in here, and that is something that is not going to change. The red box was probably not Nestlé, but if you find it more fun, so be it.

And you are right, Red Box and Black Box like each other a lot, since Day 1, when Black Box welcomed Red Box like long lost family and immediately trusted her. Something Red Box was not expecting, so she was very moved & happy about it. Black Box + Red Box = Friends♾️, who root hard for each other, help each other and share a lot of things in DMs, too 😱.

(Remember: if you are not Julius Caesar or Marilyn Monroe, illeism is such a chichi rhetorical trick. And even if you are Julius Caesar - De Bello Gallico is such an obnoxious thing to translate, you wouldn't believe it.)

People are both a blessing and a curse, in this Strange Wasteland. I have met some of the kindest souls and some of the strangest twisted minds ever, in here. It really is mindboggling, yet by far the best side of this experience.

As for the Trojan Horse, well.... I don't get what you mean, but I trust their spies will.

May I risk a Miss Cleo prediction and foresee another salvo of Anons who'd throw the door open, enter in a frenzy, step on Bebe's tail, put their feet on the table and show me how pressure is properly done?

Let them.

I'd rather have you, Anon Rebelde. Doors can be slammed, too.

[obsidiancreates]

Why Bounce Around To The Same Damn Song (Part 1)

(Another Henry Revealed As Asshole fic but Real Psychic Shawn flavored this time)

“Whoa, dude, stop here.”

“What?! Shawn, the Arby’s closes in like, fifteen minutes!”

“What? Since when does Arby’s close in the middle of the day?”

“I don’t know!”

“Just- pull over, man. I’m getting a vibe.”

Gus pulls The Blueberry over, parking in front of a set of small, run-down shops under apartment buildings. He peers around Shawn’s head and reads the sign. Miss Ivana’s Nirvana. “A psychic shop?”

“Yeah.” Shawn tries to look through the curtains of the window. “I feel like I should go in there, man.”

“You’re already psychic, why would you need a reading?”

“I’m not… sure.” Shawn tilts his head, squinting. He’s still not great with figuring out what the feelings-only parts of his abilities are. They’re a lot more complicated than picking out details in a shaky vision, or catching hidden meanings in words, or even catching snippets of another person’s thoughts- which he’s also not great at, yet, but he’s good enough to know Jules is just being nice when she says Buzz’s wife’s homemade tapioca is good. He didn’t know someone could gag so intensely in their mind without it showing on their face.

The feelings-only are different. It’s like when his ADHD acts up and makes him forget why he entered a room, or where he put something he was just holding, or the thing Gus told him was really important to remember before talking to someone he probably shouldn’t be talking to. He knows something is just there, just out of reach of his comprehension, and it’s almost like a physical, tangible blockage that he could potentially push away but he just can’t quite get the right footing.

“Maybe she’s a fraud who needs exposing? You still can’t talk to ghosts, right?”

“Still not even sure if they exist, Gus. All those websites you send me say different things. Plus, I think if spirits really existed and could demand revenge on their behalf there’d be a lot less white people in the world.”

Gus nods. “Alright, but make it fast, or I’m leaving you here.”

“Fast. Got it.”

Shawn steps out of the car and opens the shop door. It’s dimly lit, cluttered, and there’s a section with big velvet curtains and a table covered in classic fortune-telling props. The air smells like incense and sage, making him cough a little.

“Welcome to my Nirvana,” a young blond woman says in a thick non-specific Eastern European accent, sweeping otherwise soundlessly out from behind a shelf cluttered with crystals. “You are looking for something.”

“Yeah. Your real accent.” Shawn angles his head at her with a disappointed look. 

She straightens up, her incredibly numerous amounts of jewelry clanking together like she’s a windchime. “How’d you do that?”

He brings a hand up to his head. “I’m a psychic detective. You can take your pick on which of those told me the accent was fake.”

It was the psychic part.

“So… what? Are you scoping out the competition?” She crosses her arms. “Because I am not packing up shop. This is the first time I’ve made a steady living from this, you know.”

“Look, honestly I don’t know what I’m doing here either. I got a psychic vibe while driving by and now my buddy is about to abandon me so he can go get at least five meat-piled sandwiches for half off, and I can’t even blame him!” Shawn looks around. “It’s not like I don’t have crystals like these, or tried this uh… burning stuff.”

“Incense.” Ivana raises an eyebrow. “What, are you new to being psychic?”

“No! … Maybe. Are you?”

“I’ve had the gift as long as I can remember.” She sits down at the table. “Now are you gonna buy anything, or are you just going to stand there making my shop smell like Axe deodorant?”

“For your information, it’s Axe body spray. And you call yourself psychic.” He scoffs. But that twists something in his gut, his voicing doubt. It feels… bad. 

“You’re the one using his hand to convince me you can hear the spirits.” 

“So there are spirits.”

“Duh? Did you come in here just to learn how to fake it better?”

“Do you think I’m faking?”

“Maybe.”

“No you don’t.”

“If I think you’re real then you should know I am too.”

“... Fair.” Shawn looks out the door to see Gus literally pulling away. “Wh- Gus!”

“I saw that coming.”

“And you didn’t warn me, wh- I was looking forward to those sandwiches! Man… so much for helping a fellow psychic out.”

“You’re like, ten years older than me. You should’ve been able to see it.”

“Okay first of all, there’s no way I’m ten years older than you. Second of all, I… am working on the future-seeing thing, still.”

Ivana leans forward, resting her elbows heavily on her table. “You have a very bright presence, for being so annoying and childish.”

“Thank you. It’s because my hair is a blessing.”

“No… it’s because you carry the gratitude of many.” Her eyes trail over Shawn, unfocused and glassy. “Why’re you here?”

Shawn steps back. That look is really unnerving. He hopes he doesn’t look like that when he’s analyzing people. “Because my partner just drove off without me, and I don’t want to walk anywhere.”

Ivana rolls her eyes. “Come here. I’m going to do a tarot reading for you.”

“Uhhh, no. No, I don’t do that stuff.”

“You’re a psychic who doesn’t do tarot?”

“No, I do not! Or crystal balls, unless I think the client will pay extra for that. Then I have five.”

“Sit down and pick a card.” She says it so forcefully that Shawn just obeys- because a psychic pull told him too, and definitely not because he was intimidated by for a second. Not at all. He goes to pick one- and finds himself picking three, leaving them face-down, knowing how this is meant to go even though he’s never done this before.

She flips the one on Shawn’s left over first. “Do you know the meanings?”

Shawn actually thinks he does. He doesn’t want to. “Uh, no.”

“So that’s why you’re here. You’re denying something that the spirits wish you weren’t. This is The Emperor, reversed. Someone in authority, abusing that authority.”

“No, I don’t think so. The Chief is actually very lenient with us.” He knows it’s not talking about The Chief. Or Lassie. Or even the Psych office landlord who keeps trying to raise their rent before Shawn reminds him that more than half his properties aren’t up to code and Shawn can prove it if he has to.

“This card is showing us something from the past, something already done. What was. The next to are what to do, and what to avoid.” Ivana flips over the middle card. “The Three of Cups.”

“That one’s not so bad.” He sees images of him and Gus getting tacos together, him bringing Jules a smoothie, him breaking into Lassie’s house to restock the man’s peanut butter because he always forgets to and Shawn wants a reliable store of PB in every house he regularly infiltrates, dammit. “It’s uh, quality time, right? With people I care about.”

It doesn’t escape his notice that someone is missing from those visions.

“Now I’m starting to believe you.” Ivana flips the last one over. “The Six of Swords, reversed.”

Shawn laughs, even as something twists in his gut and squeezes in his chest. “That one’s a mistake.”

“It’s advice. You’re being warned not to leave something big in your life unresolved.”

“Yeah, I got that. But uh, it’d sort of ruin… everything, so I think I’m going to leave now.” He gets up. “And I’m-I’m sure yours and the… spirits, intentions are good, but there’s no way in hell I’m following that advice.”

Ivana looks at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“For once, yes.” Shawn turns, sticking his hands in his pockets and walking to the door. He freezes just before opening it, sucking in a sharp breath as his hands fly to his head.

Gus is ten years old, listening to Shawn complain about something Henry did. Gus is nodding, listening, but Shawn hears him think ‘There’s no way it’s that bad.’

Mrs. Guster stands in the doorway, talking to Henry, while five-year-old Shawn and Gus play in the living room. “Now I’ve heard around town about your… unusual way of raising your son, and I want your word right now that you’ll leave mine out of that sort of thing, because if my Burton comes home and tells me that you did anything he says Shawn talks about, I won’t be bringing him around here again.”

More recent, a case- their thirteen year high school reunion. Gus looks at Shawn and says “That’s easy for you to say, Shawn. No-one had any expectations you would amount to greatness.”

Shawn’s whole body feels tingly, and he has to shake himself to get feeling back into his limbs. Ivana is standing next to him, wide-eyed. “What was that?”

“Um.” Shawn looks down at his hands to make sure he’s here, really here. “I don’t-”

“Was that a vision? I’ve never had one that strong.”

“Really? I get those all the time.”

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah, a little.” Shawn shakes himself again. “Not totally.”

“I told you, you’re being warned. Something is blocking you from contacting the spirits who want to speak to you, I can feel it. It’s something emotional, and they’re begging you to resolve it.”

“I thought you said you don’t get strong visions.”

“I’m better at mind-reading and tarot, it’s true. But-” She moves to touch him, and Shawn pulls away. “But I can feel a very strong presence around you while standing this close. Hovering, worrying, desperate.”

“Great. That’s-that’s exactly what I want. Another looming presence in my life pushing me to do stuff.” Shawn huffs. “Awfully hypocritical of them. Can you just, tell me how to avoid that kind of thing happening to me again?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know? You’re clearly a different kind of psychic than I am.”

“What, are we dogs? There’s different breeds?”

“It’s time to leave my shop.”

She shoves him out the door, literally, just as Gus pulls back up. Shawn takes a moment to compose himself, looking anywhere but The Blueberry, before getting in- or trying to.

“Dude, you didn’t leave any room for me to sit down.”

“There’s room right there.”

“I’m not some twig anymore, man, I can’t fit in a seat literally piled with sandwiches.”

“You’re the one who decided to abandon me for a talk with a fraud.”

“She’s not a fraud, Gus.” Shawn tosses all the sandwiches into the backseat, despite Gus’s whine of protest. “She’s the real deal.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I could feel it, which was super freaky. At one point I just mentioned she might be a fraud and it felt like that time I ate those expired mini-tacos from your freezer.”

“Eugh!”

“Point is… apparently I was drawn in there because spirits are real, and… I can’t talk to them. Yet.”

“So… what? They lead you somewhere you could get advice?”

“Sort of. She can’t talk directly either, but she… gave me a tarot reading.”

“I told you we needed to invest in a set.”

“Not until we find one with either all of the Thundercats on each card, or themed around Tears for Fears songs.”

“You can commission custom sets from local artists, Shawn.”

“Really? … Sounds expensive.”

“What’d your reading say, Shawn?”

“Right. That.” Shawn shifts in his seat as Gus pulls away. “I uh… so, weird part first, knew what the cards meant just by looking at them.”

“Which makes sense since you’re psychic.”

“Yeah, yeah. And uh… they were kinda about… my dad.”

Gus waits for Shawn to go on. Shawn licks his lips first, suddenly feeling very, very trapped.

“... Shawn?” Gus glances over, concern starting to seep into his expression. “What’d they say about your dad? … Is he dying?”

“No, no. Nothing that bad.” So, so bad. Henry just- gone. Forever. Shawn can’t even imagine it, and he doesn’t want to imagine it, for all he might fight with his dad. “But uh… Gus, how-how much do you remember, about the uh… training, I did, growing up?”

“What?”

“The cop stuff he made me do.”

“I don’t know. I know I thought it was kinda intense.”

“Yeah, but… what specifically? Do you remember?”

“Well… I remember the stuff when we were scouts, with the rocket and all that.”

“Right.”

“And him using a lot of stories about him and his partners to give us lessons.”

“Yeah.”

“And I guess I remember you talking a lot about him making you earn desserts and stuff.”

“... Yeah.” Shawn leans his head back against the headrest of the seat. “Do you remember the case at our reunion?”

“Of course I remember it, it almost ruined all my hard work!”

“Remember going through the yearbooks?”

“Shawn, I know you’re stalling by trying to make me piece everything together myself. What does this have to do with your dad?”

Shawn sighs, looking out the window and pressing the top of his tongue to the center of his top lip before saying, “You said no-one had any expectations of greatness for me growing up.”

“I did? … I did.” Gus’s concern melts into guilt. “But your dad did, didn’t he? I’m sorry, Shawn, in the moment I just totally forgot.”

“It’s alright, man, I-I didn’t say anything to correct you or anything. … But I guess I’m… trying to get a read on how much I need to tell you, to… I don’t know, unclog my psychic senses or whatever.”

“What?”

“... I’m supposed to open up about, Gus. The spirits want me to tell you, and Jules, and even Lassie about all the stuff from when I was a kid.”

“Wow. … Isn’t that kinda-”

“My personal hell? Yes, it is.” Shawn thumps his head against the window and watches the sidewalks, counting hats. “Which they know, apparently. So I don’t know why they’re asking me to do that. I’m kind of doing just fine without talking to any spirits, anyway.”

But you could be doing better. He’s not sure if the thought is some psychic intuition or just him knowing the truth, and frankly he doesn’t care. It is true. It’s probably always true. It’s a thought that, nine times out of ten, comes into his mind alongside the frowning image of an old man with a rough voice and disappointment just dripping from the words.

“Shawn, did your dad…”

He doesn’t need to be psychic to know where Gus’s train of thought is going. “No, not like that. He never hit me. At most he-he handled me a little rough while booking me for the car thing. But that’s why I don’t wanna do this, man, I just- I know everyone will make it a big thing and it’s… it’s not not a big thing, but it’s a big thing for me, you know? It’s not really anybody’s else's business.”

Even though the spirits disagree.

“... You should probably take some time to think about how you wanna do this, then.” Gus glances over again, Shawn can see it in the reflection in the window. “I know this kind of thing isn’t easy for you.”

“That’s an understatement,” Shawn says with a huffed and bitter chuckle. God, he hates this. These ugly, nasty feelings that bubble up whenever he thinks about it. He drowned in these feelings for years and it was the worst time in his life, and because he couldn’t get his head above the water he started trying to push the water itself below and now it just sits there waiting for him to stop pushing it-

He has to suck in a breath as the feeling of actual water in his lungs passes over him, and he reaches to slap Gus’s hands without looking away from the window. “Stop the car!”

“Wha-”

“I totally just got a vibe, man, I think someone drowned around here, recently!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re avoiding it.”

Shawn groans, tossing a crumpled paper ball at the trash can without looking. It goes right in. “Gus-”

“It’s been a month, Shawn. I know I said to take some time and think about how you’ll do it, but I know you and I know when you go from taking time to putting something off.”

“Gus, don’t be your coffee mug handle that broke when I picked it up.”

“Shawn, I’m serious. You basically got spiritually kidnapped into a creepy tarot reading specifically because you needed to talk about it, and now you’re not talking about it!”

“I have dinner with my dad in two days, Gus. I don’t really want to churn up all that stuff before I have to go help him prepare a fish or something again, I hate that enough.”

“So cancel.”

“Already tried- stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“I can totally read your mind right now, Gus, it’s like you’re literally shouting at me. Every time I talk about my dad now all your alarm bells go off, and that’s exactly what I don’t want!”

“Since when are you so protective of how people think of him?!”

“I don’t know! I just- I don’t want the three of you going around thinking he’s a monster or something all the time! Even if he kinda is. Man, you know I’m not good at figuring these kinds of complicated feelings out! Stop asking me to!”

“Not until we make some progress.”

“... Fine. Fine, I will… talk to everyone, as a group, here in the office, next week. Happy?”

“As I can be in the situation.”

“It’s not a situation.”

“Yes it is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“I can do this all day, Shawn.”

“Well that is a complete waste of your time, and especially of mine!”

“Yeah, well, suck it.”

“You suck it!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jules and Lassiter are cleaning up their desks when they both get a text at the same time.

Just had a major psychic feeling, guys, come by the office ASAP. Bring good snacks. <3

“Aw.” Jules smiles as she tucks her phone into her pocket. “Carlton, did you also get-”

“Yeah, I got it.” Lassiter sighs and swings his jacket on. “I’m not stopping for any snacks.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn is sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together resting against his lips, one leg shaking up and down and making a fast taptaptaptaptap sound against the floor as he waits. Gus sits next to him on the couch, and gives Shawn a pat on the shoulder.

“It’s going to be good for you in the long run,” Gus says for the millionth time that day.

“Man, you know I’d rather have things be good for me in the short run.”

They hear the door open, and both look up as Jules and Lassiter enter the office. Jules looks immediately concerned, while Lassiter looks more annoyed than anything.

“Shawn? What’s wrong, you look nervous. Is this is about a case?”

“Not uh, not quite.” Shawn gestures for Jules and Lassiter to sit in the armchairs set up across from the couch. They do, with Lassiter rolling his eyes as he sits. Shawn is kind of grateful for the irritation- it’s more comfortable than the way Gus and Jules are looking at him. More familiar.

“What is this about, Spencer?”

“Well, I uh…” Shawn opens his mouth to continue, but he just can’t. He just… can’t.

Gus, as always, is there to put together the missing pieces and fill in the gaps. “Shawn recently had a… metaphysical revelation,” Gus says. “He’s been dabbling in new ways to hone his abilities, and he was given the advice to unblock some parts of his mind by sharing some things.”

Shawn points at Gus to confirm it.

“What, like group therapy? This is ridiculous.”

“Believe me Lassie, I’m not happy about it either.” Shawn laughs, hollow, and his leg starts shaking faster. “But uh, every time I think about not doing this, preferably ever, I get a real kick in the ass by the spirits.” Mostly visions of people defending his dad, or his dad making all those claims about how he’s not responsible for why Shawn is the way he is, and god does the reoccuring vision of his dad claiming “A good cop trusts his gut, his instincts,” make Shawn just… mad.

“Shawn… what is this about?” Jules reaches out and puts a hand on his leg, stilling it. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Maybe. … I-I don’t…” Shawn takes a deep breath. “So it’s uh… about my dad.”

Lassiter scoffs.

“You know, with him… getting involved in cases as much as he does, and uh… Gus, I-I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. I believe in you.”

“Spit it out, Spencer, after a shift I want to go home, not hang out in a fire hazard.”

“The spirits want me to tell you guys about my dad and how he raised me,” Shawn forces out. “Apparently keeping it to myself is ‘bad for me’ or something. And I uh… I don’t really know where to begin, so just… bear with me here.”

Lassiter eyes Shawn suspiciously. “Raised you how?”

“... I guess I’ll start with us, with this.” Shawn lets out a deep breath. “Lassie, you remember when my mom did your psych eval?”

“Unfortunately.”

“She told you she has an eidetic, tonal, memory.”

“How did you kn-”

“My dad, has an eidetic visual memory. I… have both.” Shawn pulls his hands apart and puts his hands to his temples and plasters on a grin that’s probably the least convincing fake smile he’s ever given. “And he knew it, real early on, before I can even remember.”

Jules gasps softly. “Oh, Shawn, but the things we see on the job-”

“It’s not that bad,” he says quickly. “Trust me Jules, I’m fine with all that. But uh, on top of that, when I was really young my mom diagnosed me as also being hyperobservant.”

Lassiter stands up and points to Shawn. “Aha! That’s it! I knew it, I knew you had some secret-”

“Lassie, sit down, I’m also genuinely psychic.”

“Yeah, right-”

“You’re excited to have caught me but you’re also thinking about how many arrests will be overturned or reexamined if you turn me in. You went to a bar on Saturday and ran into someone you liked in highschool, but h- uh, she-” Shawn glances at Jules and squints for a second, then nods. She knows, Lassie told her, good for him. “He, was already married so you went back home and looked into getting a dog for the rest of the night.”

That wipes the triumph off Lassiter’s face, and gets his ass back in the chair.

Shawn rides the high of that for just a moment before Gus clears his throat and Shawn remembers why they’re all here. He looks back down at his knees. “So uh… yes, I have a lot going on up here is what I’m trying to say.” He gestures at his head, waving his hand in a circle around his skull. “And pretty much from birth my dad figured, hey, I’ll train the kid to be the ultimate detective. The job was everything to him, and uh… he made sure it was everything to me, too.”

“That’s a pretty heavy expectation for a kid to carry,” Jules says in sympathy. “Especially with your dad having such a high-standing reputation.”

“No kidding,” Shawn laughs the same empty laugh. “So a uh… a lot, oh my childhood, was training. Stuff like uh… like even when Gus and I would play hide-and-seek, you know? He’d turn it into a lesson about how to keep a perp from seeing or hearing me if I was sneaking up on them, or-or blindfolding me, and telling me to figure out what he was doing around me just by the sounds, stuff like that.”

“Sounds fun to me,” Lassiter says.

“It was, usually. And I did really, really want to be a cop, just like him, but it was still pretty…” Shawn claps his hands back together and purses his lips, searching for the words, the feeling. “Pretty overkill, a lot of times. I mean, come on, teaching me to-to forge stuff in case I ever went undercover? I was six. I didn’t even know that kind of thing wasn’t normal until I started going over to Gus’s house. And then I started wanting to explore more things, and… started kind of… thinking about how Gus and my lives were different…”

Shawn takes another deep breath. “Like, his parents didn’t bury his Easter eggs underground and leave broken glass and a tarp over it and expect him to dig them up on his own.”

Lassiter sits up straighter, and Jules pales. Gus lets out a soft “Oh my god.”

Shawn grips his hands together. He hates this, he hates it, he doesn’t want them look at him like this, he doesn’t want them to know about this-

“Spencer, that’s a serious allegation of mistreatment and child endangerment,” Lassiter warns.

“I’m not- this isn’t a case, Lassie. I’m not trying to get my dad in trouble, and certainly not trying to get him arrested, alright? I’m just… trying to get a few things off my chest, out into the open.” Shawn clears his throat. “So, yeah. At Gus’s house he didn’t have to do that, or-or get locked in a car trunk in the afternoon to learn how to kick out a taillight, or have to hear about kids spatter brains on driveways when he brought a comic book home.”

Jules makes a sound like she might vomit. “And he knew you’d always remember all of that, perfectly?”

“... Yeah. And it uh… didn’t make me love my whole… deal.” Shawn flicks a hand up at his head again. “He never believed in psychics, so that was fine, but the other stuff… I dunno. I guess he thought it meant I just shouldn’t have been a kid or something, but I know he still thinks of me as a kid anyway.”

“Can’t always blame him.” But Lassiter’s words are as hollow as Shawn’s previous laughs, an understanding dawning in his eyes. “So he spent your life training you to be a cop, and never let you consider anything else.”

Shawn nods. “Got upset if I even mentioned it. Ever. But he also wouldn’t let me do stuff like take karate, which is weird, because I think a cop who knows martial arts seems super dope but I guess he thought a gun would be enough.”

“Did he train you in firearms too?”

“Oh, yeah. And it turns out being psychic gives you crazy good long-distance vision, which is neat, so I got really good really fast. He always freaked out when he thought I was in danger, still does, but he wanted me to be in the middle of shootouts someday at the same time. He’d have me run away from him in the middle of the woods to teach me avoidance tactics, and then lecture me for doing the same thing because I didn’t want to kill fish with him.”

Jules and Lassiter share a look, and both lean forward at the same time.

“That wasn’t okay, Shawn. Any of it,” Jules says firmly. “And if talking about this is helping you clear something up with your powers, we’ll listen to every example you’ve got.”

Shawn leans away from them a bit, mouth parting, and looks over at Gus. 

Gus is crying. Not in the full-face-scrunch whistling tea kettle way he usually does. Just quiet, horrified tears over all the things he just missed during their shared childhood.

“Hey, stop that.” Shawn shakes Gus by the shoulder. “Don’t you dare feel guilty, Gus.”

“I can’t help it,” Gus sniffles. Jules reaches behind her for Gus’s desk and passes some tissues over. “Thank you.”

“I’m not- I’m not looking for guilt or pity.” Shawn looks each one of them in the eyes. “I’m not looking for anything, just for the spirits to leave me alone about this, okay?”

“We understand,” Jules assures. “Right, Carlton?”

“Right.” Lassiter is looking at Shawn in a way Shawn isn’t used to. He tries to reach out, just a little, to get a glimpse of what Lassie is actually thinking about him right now. It’s like trying to reach for something in a dream, where your arms don’t really exist and neither does what you’re trying to grab, and focusing too hard wakes you up before you can grab it but focusing too little sweeps you back into nonsense. Shawn can’t quite get a grip.

Shawn sniffs a little, and then nods, and then nods again harder to make his whole body move with the motion. “So uh… just, telling you guys everything, then? Because that could take a while, with the whole… memory, thing.”

“As much as you need to tell us. No more, no less.” Jules offers him her hand to hold. “And Shawn, I just want to say that I’m really, really honored that you came to us with this. That you’re trusting us, even though this is hard for you.”

“Of course, I trust you guys. I’d trust you both with my life, literally. If we got body-swapped I’d be completely relaxed knowing you’re probably treating it even better than I do.”

“That’s not really a high bar, Spencer.”

“Even my hair? It’s a high bar to trust you with styling my hair, Lassie.”

Lassiter considers this, and then nods in agreement.

Shawn takes one more second, and then looks up fully. “Time to get into the details, I guess.”

And he does.

And it turns out to be a long, long night.

Everyone wishes Lassie had stopped for snacks.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Shawn wakes up the next morning, groggy and sleep deprived and feeling wrung-out like a hand towel in an industrial kitchen, he hears his grandpa’s voice.

“I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Henry Spencer walks into the SBPD the next morning, Juliet O’Hara elbows him hard in the gut as she walks by, and while Henry is still leaning against the front desk corner catching his breath Carlton Lassiter walks up and yanks him away from the desk to throw him out the door.

“What the hell-!”

“For your sake, we better not see you around this station for at least a week. Any sooner and I can’t guarantee you leaving it without O’Hara pumping you full of lead.”

“Wh-”

“I mean it, Henry. Stay out. Or else.” Henry learns what Or else entails a week later when he follows Shawn into the station and hell breaks loose.

[smokedanced]

i woke up with an rpc vent in my mind that i feel like i have to unleash but 1) no obligation to read this at all i am just venting it out of my system and not really wanting to talk about it and 2) this is not a vaguepost. this is not about specific people. not all of this is about something to do with my blogs even. some of this is shit that i myself have mistakenly done before, even. i am talking about annoyances and pet peeves, not aiming to shame anyone. if i have an issue with any specific person i block them, vent about them privately with a close friend, or talk it out with the person.

readmore for length and so people don't have to see me vent lol (everything is fine nothing has happened just overall rpc annoyances from my time here since aaages ago)

i can't tell whether people lack reading comprehension, can't be bothered to read stuff, or are just entitled, a lot of the time, with some of these. you would think when we share a hobby that is largely based on reading, people would... read... but...

almost every time. almost every time i post a meme call etc. where i say to specify muse. i get likes without people specifying muse. this, along with the next item, is so common that it's not even possible to vaguepost about any specific person on this because it feels like most people do this? i'm sure i've mistakenly done it myself (just forgot and such) but it's not. it's. ????????? WHY

i kind of understand if i post a long ass plotting call for specific verses and explain a lot on the post that someone might skim it and miss a line about specifying muse, but even on two lines of just "like for memes. specify muse or i won't send any" people consistently manage to not follow the rules. this has been happening since. like at least five years now. i don't think meme calls were a thing much before that. but i remember struggling with this in 2018. and still.

similarly. do people. do people not read rules, think a rule doesn't apply for them (???) or just... what with, not doing my interest tracker.

it's gotten to the point that i am SURPRISED whenever someone does. i am GENUINELY DELIGHTED like someone did me a HUGE FAVOUR whenever they do it. i am so so pleased whenever someone who had kind of been around for a long time finally does it.

i sort of can see, if we follow each other on one of my other blogs first, that people might follow the multi without reading the rules since they already read the rules on another blog. that's generally ok, but when my multi has that specific rule that my other blogs don't, it's... well.

i don't know how many times i need to say on the dash that i do not interact with people until they either do my interest tracker OR tell me ooc which muses i am allowed to send them OR send me in character things (in which case i will only approach with the muses they send things first for). i just need to know which muses people are open to so i don't need to feel like i am forcing a muse someone isn't interested in for them. i don't need plot ideas, i don't need people to pick just one muse, i just need some indication of WHICH MUSES ARE OK TO SEND. like i don't know how much easier i could make it than saying it's ok to just message me and tell me all of my muses are ok. ????????

and i know so many people who struggle with the same thing. if someone has a rule about their interest tracker being mandatory. if you aren't going to do it. then don't follow them. what

more on reading comprehension or did someone not even read the rules before following: constantly. i- i mean, ok, lol, i'm not popular enough to get constant new followers, that's not. what i mean.

a huge chunk of people who follow me have direct contradictions to my rules in their rules. i can't tell if people don't read mine before they follow or if they somehow manage to lack the reading comprehension to understand them? especially my rule about me not following people who judge others based on what fiction they enjoy. i get very, very many followers whose own rules directly contradict this. i've even explained this in detail in my rules: how i am ok with people saying "don't follow me if you write x", but i am not ok and don't feel safe around people who say "don't follow me if you write gross things like x" etc. etc. etc. it's the tone, it's the implied judgement. i say that this includes topics that i myself am not comfortable writing. i feel like i say this clearly??? what is not clicking or do people not read my rules???

the other rule of mine that gets ignored is that i say i don't follow people with individual names on their dni lists. sometimes my ex-mutuals have added a dni of individual urls and then i'm forced to be like. ok. well. sorry, but i'm going to unfollow you. that's against my rules. i don't feel safe around you. i kind of, more understand it if it's something a mutual adds to their rules (i don't expect people to remember my rules, people can decide later that they don't agree with my rules, and so on, that's fine, it's up to me to curate my dash then and unfollow or block), but it's more baffling when there are new people.

both of the above are so common that whenever i get a new follower on any of my blogs now, i kind of ASSUME that there is going to be something in their rules that will be directly against mine and i won't be able to follow them back, until i go read their pages and am proven wrong. like, my assumption is that we are not compatible in the rpc, which is kind of fucking wild. because. why. why would you follow someone whose rules you don't agree with. i guess this is why i wonder if people read rules at all or if people just... don't... understand the way i word mine??? genuinely i continue to think of how to reword my rules but i feel like they are pretty clear on these topics???

(i'm not angry at anyone for following without reading my rules, i don't care enough to feel anger, it just. it's very confusing. and overall frustrating because you get a new follow and the blog seems cool but then you find out your rules aren't compatible.)

(i'm also never going to tell people what they can and can't have in their rules. rules that contradict mine are totally ok. it's not WRONG of people to not agree with my rules. i just wish people wouldn't follow me if our rules clearly do not match.)

other common either didn't read the rules or lack reading comprehension disregard the rules things that i see very commonly but that do not apply to me because i'm not mutuals only or have passwords but

people who disregard mutuals only rules. both people who will approach without being followed back and people who don't follow but think they can still interact? mutuals only means mutuals only, not one of us is following the other. i KNOW i have made this mistake before myself. i have taken mutuals only to mean if the other person with that rules follows me it's fine. i don't have to follow them. (the one time i don't take something literally LOL) but i've been corrected on it and know better now.

like person A has a mutuals only rule. person B wants to write with person A. person A follows person B, person B doesn't follow person A for whatever reason despite wanting to write together. person B just assumes that's ok. but... but you're not mutuals. entitled behaviour as fuck (that i have done myself! i have done this myself! i don't anymore of course but aaaaa it's so dumb why would i assume that was ok)

similarly: person A has a password in their rules. person B has a rule about not sending in passwords in theirs. person B follows person A first, doesn't send in password. ENTITLED AS FUCK BEHAVIOUR. your own rules can't excuse you not following someone else's. now, if person A was the one to follow first, then i think that would be fine. because then person A would know person B doesn't do passwords, and decided to follow anyway. but when it's the person who doesn't send passwords following someone who has a password first? just. don't follow someone whose rules you aren't going to follow. pretty sure i've done this in the past myself as well. would not anymore.

ok i have vented have a nice day. why am i getting irked over hypothetical things that don't even apply to me? i don't know. anyway. if this is somehow the first ooc post of mine you see i am so sorry i am normally just vibing and chilling.

also if you've done any of these in the past, i am not trying to make you feel bad. i tried to make that obvious by admitting to shit i myself did in the past.

also if anyone ever feels awkward about doing my interest tracker several months after having been quiet mutuals, don't! whenever someone does it i just get delighted. it's never a ohhhhh finally this person is doing it shame on them... it's always an oh! oh! so cool! we can write now! yay! and i usually message people to thank them for doing it.

[alchemiclee]

people always wonder why I don't read for fun. I have a few reasons:

slow. you know how some articles tell you how long of a read it will be? I just read one that says "less than a 5 minute read" and you know how long it took me? a little over 15.....this was a distraction-free read. i'm just extremely slow.

speaking of distractions. from inside and outside, they are everywhere. i'll either stop reading completely and not realize until who-knows-how-long later, (I have 100 unfinished tabs open on my web browser i started reading at some point...) or i'll be reading words, but my mind is elsewhere. so I need to reread it because I forgot everything immediately or didn't process anything at all.

dyslexia. reading comprehension isn't my strongest skill. often, things don't make sense when I read them, so I must reread. sometimes more than one or twice. sometimes I can reread the same sentence 5 times and its different every time. brain likes to mix things up to keep it fresh, at the cost of it making any sense at all. eventually I can get there, but at what cost.....

sleepy. when I try to read for a long time (which isn't that long tbh,) the processing my brain has to go through—deciphering dyslexic jumbled up nonsense, trying to concentrate and not letting distractions pull me away, in general trying to understanding what i'm reading—I get very sleepy. it's exhausting. the whole process of reading for me is so exhausting. the concentration it takes is too much for my brain so it literally shuts down and gives up. at least that's why I think I fall asleep every time I try read anything that's longer than this post (though sometimes even this much is enough to make me fall asleep). I have no control over when my brain decides it's time to fall asleep.

visualizing. i've always been extremely envious of everyone who likes to read. you can all see what you're reading in your heads as if you're watching a movie. when I learned people can do that, I got so shocked and jealous. it always confused me when people would hate on movies because it "doesn't look how they imagined" while i'd rather see the movie because it shows me how things are supposed to look. I would enjoy reading too if I saw more than words on a paper! I can get the general concept, like I know what a tree and a bird nest are. if a story says "the heavy wind knocked a bird nest out of the tree beside me" I won't see it happen in my head, but I know what it means.

processing. while having to deal with all this above, it can lead to me lacking the necessary skills to even process what i'm reading. if i'm reading a research paper or textbook, most of it can go over my head and i won't understand most of it. the words are too jumbled together, there's too many, and they aren't simple enough to quickly make sense of them individually. the boredom from the subject might also affect processing ability if it's something I don't care about, like school textbooks. if i'm reading a story, I might get the general idea of what's happening, but I will miss all the deeper details and hidden meanings. i'll hear/see people talk about something from a story that I never caught. it's like they're enjoying a secret they found in the pages that I never got access to. everyone else enjoys stories so much more than me, because they're doing it in such a different way. i feel very left out because I know i'll be missing out on a lot of the story.

people used to (and still do) always shame me for choosing to not read or not enjoying it. but if you had all these conditions applied to you, would you still enjoy reading? or would the struggle not be worth it? I do know some people can have one or more of these problems and still enjoy reading. i've met them and they have shamed me because they "have these problems and still read and enjoy it anyway." i've recently been trying out audiobooks. this is ever so slightly easier than reading, but still comes with some of the same issues as well as its own, such as my auditory processing disorder. this is basically the audio version of my dyslexia.

in the end, I still need a visual. I listened to an audio version of tgcf, for example, and then watched the donghua. suddenly, things I heard in the audio version made sense because I saw them for the first time! most of what I was hearing didn't make much sense because I can't simply "see it in my head" like everyone else. so watching the movie/show adaptation is better for me, even if it's not "good" or the best option. my preferred reading material is comics. it has both reading and visuals. if you want me to read something with you, present me with a comic/manga!

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan is called to see the Commander.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 3,624. Rating: all audiences. Warnings: talk of addiction withdrawal.)

Chapter 21: Forgive Me

Trevelyan did not usually take her morning walk in the courtyard, so near to the infirmary, but a change of pace was often a good panacea to the boredom of routine. That was her excuse, at least.

But she was far too cowardly to actually step into the infirmary, and enquire after the Commander’s health. It wasn’t her place to ask, really, and it was better for him to rest. That was her excuse, at least.

Instead she continued walking, greeted a few of the mages she knew as they passed her by, kicked at the weeds outside the Herald’s Rest, and headed down to the lower level.

Soldiers trained here. Feet churned up dust as they pushed forward into attack; grass tore beneath heels that dug in for defense. Trevelyan skirted the clattering horde, one eye looking out, checking, just in case.

But they were under the watch of no Commander. Captains seemed to patrol the lines instead, and conducted their instruction with an admirable accuracy.

So Trevelyan wandered on, to the market just beyond. Sellers had set up, and were already doing business. Denizens of Skyhold bustled about the tables, examining the wares on offer. Being in the mountains, this was likely the only taste of commerce they got.

Trevelyan joined the crowd. Perusing the stalls might help keep her mind off things.

And there was one in particular that caught her attention: a bookseller, with an array of tomes on a pantheon of subjects, displayed elegantly on a ream of purple crushed velvet. The dwarven man behind the stall—warm-skinned with dark hair—gave her a beardy smile as she approached.

There were only so many books in Skyhold’s library. Trevelyan wondered if she might find something new here.

An Astronomer’s Illustrated Guide to the Stars, read one golden title, embossed onto blue leather. Trevelyan certainly didn’t recognise this one. The moon and Satina were even engraved into the cover! It was beautiful.

“May I look at this?” she asked the seller.

“’Course,” said the man.

Trevelyan gently opened the book. The Inquisition had literature on the stars, of course, but none illustrated so. There were the constellations she knew—the Oak, the Maiden, Sacrifice (their Tevene names included!)—but also their Elvhen and Avvar interpretations. Comprehensive indeed!

“Lovely book, isn’t it?” the seller-man commented. “You don’t get many like that.”

“It’s wonderful,” Trevelyan agreed.

“That does mean it’s a bit pricier than the rest, but it’s worth it for the quality. Most books I stock are about ten to twenty silvers; this one’s forty.”

Trevelyan stared at him, agape. “Oh.”

She hadn’t quite expected to be buying anything. She was confined to the mountains as much as these other folk. This was the only taste of commerce she got.

Besides, it wasn’t like she had any money.

Her father hadn’t wanted her to possess a (what he called) ‘running away fund’. Trevelyan had begged her parents for something, only finding success when she mentioned how poor they’d look if they sent her with nothing.

The compromise? All her money was kept in a lockbox, and Cara had the key.

Forty silvers was nothing to her parents. And Trevelyan had been doing quite as they asked, spending so much time with the Commander it had driven him to sickness. She could persuade Cara.

“I don’t have any coin on me now,” she told the seller, “but I can fetch some! Would you be able to hold this until I return?”

The man shook his head. “Sorry, miss, had too many occurrences of holding things, only for people to never come back. Impacts trade.”

“Fair. Then I’ll be as quick as I can!”

Trevelyan hurried away, as promised. Out of the market, past the soldiers—she took the stairs back to the upper courtyard two at a time! (She took the ones to the Great Hall a little slower).

Catching her breath at the top, she locked eyes on the next flight that awaited, and—

“Lady Trevelyan!”

Couldn’t go anywhere in this damn castle without finding oneself summoned to conversation. Trevelyan turned. A runner, from the direction of Montilyet’s parlour, swerved towards her.

Trevelyan allowed them to approach. “How may I help you?” she asked.

They bowed. “Your Ladyship, the Ambassador wishes to see you.”

“Right now?”

“If you’re available,” said the runner. “I can tell her you’re delayed, if you wish.”

Trevelyan thought on it a moment, but shook her head. “No, no. Thank you.”

After all, she had something of an idea as to what this might be about. As urgent as the book was, this was more so. Montilyet’s open parlour door beckoned.

She answered its call. “Lady Monilyet?” she said as she entered.

Montilyet, behind her desk, stood on sight. “Oh, Lady Trevelyan! That was fast.” She stepped out to greet her properly, and asked: “How are you feeling, this morning?”

“I’m fine,” said Trevelyan, who was actually a concentrated mess of worry. “How is the Commander?”

“Better,” Montilyet reassured her, “but still recovering. However, he has asked to see you—that is why I called you here. He is waiting now”—she glanced at her parlour’s other door, that led to the War Room beyond—“but only if you are happy to see him.”

Trevelyan pushed out an uneasy breath. “Is he well enough for this?”

Lady Montilyet sighed. “He and I have different answers to that question. But, he insisted.”

“Then, all right.”

Montilyet nodded. “Please, take a seat.”

Trevelyan did as requested, choosing her usual place on the sofa. It felt odd without Lady Erridge beside her, or the Baroness sewing in her chair, or Lady Samient reclined on another.

Lady Montilyet, meanwhile, had moved for the door, and disappeared beyond. Trevelyan took this moment to prepare herself for the man that might emerge.

The door opened. She was pleasantly surprised.

The Commander stepped out of his own accord, firm on his feet, at least. His skin had its colour back, and his eyes seemed more alert. He did not wear his armour, nor his mantle—just a simple shirt and a quilted jacket, left open at the front.

He was good at masking the pain.

“Commander,” she said, standing by instinct, “how are you?”

His voice was hoarse, quiet. His reply: “How are you?”

Trevelyan forgave him the trespass of not answering, as she recognised an audible guilt in his question. “I’m well, thank you.”

He managed a little nod in response. Lady Montilyet came to his side, and directed him to a seat. The walk over was stable, but slow.

His weight sank onto the chair with a creak, evident of the heaviness of one whose body felt as lead. At least sitting seemed to settle him. Trevelyan waited until he was comfortable, to ask again:

“Commander, how are you?”

“He is better,” answered Montilyet, for him. She remained at his side, observant. “The healers said he recovered well enough in the evening to return to his own bed. Though aches and pains still linger, and will for a few days yet.”

It seemed this was enough to give the Commander courage to speak: “I am sorry you had to… witness that,” he told Trevelyan, not meeting her gaze. “Thank you, for fetching help.”

Trevelyan shifted along the sofa, to take Lady Erridge’s usual spot. She tried to catch the Commander’s eye—and, when she finally did, smiled at him. “I am glad to see you better.”

“I am sorry,” the Commander repeated. “That day… I had forgotten my medicines. I—believe Josephine told you about them?”

‘Josephine’ interjected: “It was not just that day. The healers said it was four of his last six doses that had been missed—hence why this flare was so terrible.”

Trevelyan’s next question, of how such doses had been missed in the first place, was answered before she could voice it:

“Lyrium affects memory,” the Commander explained. “I forget things, on occasion. But forgetting my medicines meant that the forgetting only worsened. One missed day, turned into two, turned into four. I’m sorry.”

Trevelyan regarded him softly. “I hope you do not mean to blame yourself, Commander.”

“It is my fault.”

She shook her head. “With things like this… lapses happen. No matter how you try or how you prepare, as with anything in life, we are still prone to stumbling. I fear if you blame yourself, it will only dissuade you from continuing this path.”

He finally looked her in the eye. “I do want to continue,” he said, voice regaining strength, “if I prove it’s possible, others may have a chance...”

Trevelyan smiled. Perhaps Baroness Touledy was not compatible with the Commander romantically, but she was not wrong that he was like-minded. Trevelyan was determined to have them make friends of one another yet.

“That is an honourable purpose, Commander,” she told him, “and I think you will succeed in it. I believe you have the fortitude.”

“Some call it sturbbornness,” Lady Montilyet commented, with a smile.

Trevelyan shared in it. “That too.”

The Commander evaded her gaze once more. “I appreciate your faith in me,” he said. He took a breath before continuing—“I, ah...”—but lost his chain of thought.

“Commander?”

He shook his head. “Forgive me. My head aches.”

Lady Montilyet’s smile dropped, and her regal demeanour returned at once.

“You had best return to your room, and take the rest of the day,” she told him. “And do not think you may work. I have had all your reports removed.”

His displeased frown was rather funny—but it soon turned to one of effort, as he pushed himself up from the seat. With a grunt, he stood. Trevelyan rose as well.

“If there is anything I may do to help,” she said, “please, do tell me.”

He smiled, albeit weakly. “Thank you. I hope you are all right.”

“I am, I promise you. Rest well, Commander.”

“Thank you.”

Satisfied, he allowed Lady Montilyet to escort him to the Hall door. They were met by a guard at the threshold, who took the Commander’s flank, and marched with him as if following his lead.

Trevelyan leant back as far as she could, to watch him go. Once gone from view, Montilyet let the door swing shut.

“I am sorry for surprising you with this,” she said as she strode back, “but the healers tell me that as soon as his mind was present yesterday, he was asking for you. He was terribly concerned that he had caused you upset.”

Technically, he had, but given that it was hardly intentional—and that the majority of the upset was her own anxiety—Trevelyan had little injury to report.

“I’m all right.”

“Indeed,” said Montilyet, arriving at her desk. “Thank you for agreeing to this. It will have settled him greatly.”

“Of course.” Trevelyan stood. “I take it all engagements between him and his suitors are cancelled for now?”

Though Lady Montilyet had begun counting coin on her desk, she paused to address Trevelyan:

“Naturally. Until he feels well enough… and, after I have informed the other Ladies.”

Ah. Time to save Lady Montilyet a job.

“They already know,” said Trevelyan. Montilyet’s eyes widened. Trevelyan quickly clarified: “It was not me who told them. They had figured it out from the rumours they had heard.”

This seemed to be accepted as an adequate explanation, and, thank the Maker, Lady Montilyet dug no further. She finished counting her coin, and with her quill, struck through an entry on a ledger.

Trevelyan would have left her to this work, but lingered. There was still something she needed to know. After a moment to build her resolve, Trevelyan crept closer to Montilyet, and asked:

“Your Ladyship, just in case, may I know—what are the signs of one of these flares? If you can tell me, that is.”

Montilyet thought a moment. “Few have happened while I have known him, but… I suppose there are commonalities. First, there is the distractedness—he always seems to lose focus, in the days before.”

Trevelyan thought of the chess match between him and Lady Samient. Not his best play. In fact, he had been rather… distracted.

“Then, of course, the irritability—more so than usual!”

The training, she had interrupted with the Baroness. It took very little for him to leap to her defence that day. Trevelyan wondered that she had not realised it before.

“And… also hunger. I worry when the cooks say he is eating well. A healer once described it to me as like the body is trying to satisfy a hunger that it can never fulfil.”

That damn crumble. Of course he’d eaten the whole thing. Trevelyan cursed herself.

“Thank you,” she told Lady Montilyet regardless. “I shall bear it in mind.”

Her mind, indeed, ran over the three almost obsessively, so that she would not forget. Eager to be away and write them down, she curtsied, opening her mouth to give a farewell and take her leave. Montilyet raised a hand.

“Wait a moment,” she instructed. “I have something to give you.”

She turned back to her desk, and collected what she had been preparing—a small purse. It jingled pleasantly as she picked it up, and offered it to Trevelyan.

“Here. Your wages, for the last week.”

Trevelyan blinked. Wages?

She took the satchel, and drew it open. Golden coin glittered within a silver sea. Maker, this couldn’t be right.

“Usually this would be the bursar’s role,” Lady Montilyet explained, “but I wished to give you this first one myself, as a personal thanks for your work.”

Trevelyan counted the coin. “But… this can’t be the right amount?”

“Seven royals is a good wage,” Montilyet told her. “Better than most.”

But Trevelyan’s head shook. “I know—it’s too much.”

A realisation came across Lady Montilyet’s face. Her open mouth closed into a soft smile.

“This is not a Circle allowance,” she explained, “this is a fair wage for fair work.”

“Are you certain?”

Lady Montilyet placed her hands on Trevelyan’s, and closed them around the purse. “This is your money, Lady Trevelyan. Spend it as frivolously or frugally as you wish. It is yours.”

Trevelyan already had an idea. “Thank you,” she said, tying the purse-strings back up tight, “thank you.”

With a low cursty and a very fond farewell, she hurried out of Lady Montilyet’s office. There was a book in the market that needed her attention!

And now, it would not even be her parents’ money with which she bought it. It was her own money. She would pay for that book, and it would belong to her, wholly and completely. They could never take it from her, claiming they were the true owners. It would be hers.

Trevelyan almost tripped over herself, running down the steps to the lower courtyard. Clutching the purse to her chest, she weaved her way through the lingering crowd of market customers, and found that velvet table.

But the book was gone.

“Do you have that book?” she asked the seller. “The astronomy one?”

She did not like the expression that took his face.

“Sorry, miss, sold it just a minute ago; I did say someone else had their eye on it, but they were keen as you.”

“Do you have no other copies?” she asked, desperate.

He shook his head. “Sorry, it’s a rare one. But, I could have another by the time I return.”

“Oh! When will that be?”

“I pass through here whenever I’m travelling between Ferelden and Orlais—should be back in about… three weeks, say? Maybe a month.”

Too long.

“I’ll be back home by then,” she told him. And she’d be returning with nothing of her own. “Thank you, anyway.”

“Wait, wait!” He scribbled something on a scrap of vellum, and offered it to her. “This is the name of the book, and the author. Show that to any bookseller worth their sovereigns where you live, and they’ll find you a copy, I’m sure.”

Trevelyan smiled, and took the slip. “Thank you.”

But it was a poor consolation prize. She trudged back towards the stairs, contemplating her misery. No pretty book. But the money was something, at least. She’d have to find somewhere to hide it, where the snakes that called themselves her ladies’ maids wouldn’t see.

Perhaps she could even set a trap.

Sure enough, when she at last arrived at her room, one of the little vipers (Cara) was turning down her bed. Trevelyan was grateful for her smock’s large and concealing pockets.

“Your Ladyship,” greeted Cara, “some things arrived for you. A letter from the Bann and Lady Trevelyan, and an Inquisition woman delivered a parcel.”

“Thank you,” said Trevelyan, “you may go.”

Cara curtsied, and made her way out. The second she was gone—with a glance back to check—Trevelyan scurried to her bed, poked a hole in the mattress beneath, and stashed her money in there. Worked well enough in the Circle.

Satisfied it was adequately hidden—though she would make sure to check every morning and every night—she worked her way to the post waiting on the table. The parcel Cara had mentioned was a rectangular sort of shape, and decently thick. The letter was a letter.

Trevelyan forwent her parents’ admonishments for now, and took up the parcel. Wrapped in brown paper, and very poorly too, she quite easily found a gap to tear into.

And revealed a blue leather beneath.

In disbelief, she tore the rest of the paper away. The book! The book of constellations! Illustrated, complete! Here. How?

She opened the cover. A note awaited her.

To Lady Trevelyan, it read, something for you, by way of apology. C.

Her heart fluttered. Buying something for herself was one thing, but having something bought for her was another. Trevelyan had never had anything so lavish bought for her—at least, in earnest. All her parents’ purchases had been begrudging.

Her hands stroked the pages—all hers, every constellation, every star—before she snapped the book shut, and held it to her chest. Apology most certainly accepted.

She would have to do something for the Commander in return. A book for him, perhaps? It would be nice for him to read, especially something other than a report, during this rest of his. She could get him a romance! A better one, than his current recommendation.

Though… such a thing might be taken the wrong way. Like a winking suggestion. But, she could always—

Her reverie was cut short, as her eyes caught the waiting letter from her parents. Sighing, Trevelyan set down her book, and picked up the letter. The seal of House Trevelyan cracked open, and revealed its contents:

To our daughter,

I am writing to remind you of your upcoming banquet, for which you shall be in attendance. I faithfully request that you comport yourself with utmost dignity and elegance. Nobles of all regions shall be in attendance, and our reputation should be kept polished in their presence. Remember to—

Trevelyan set the letter aflame in her hand, and watched it burn to nothing more than ash. She had something better to read, now.

And she knew the perfect place to read it: the battlements, that very night.

***

And Maker, it was a lovely night.

With the same flame she used to light her parent’s letter, Trevelyan illuminated the pages of her new book—careful so as to not award it the same fate—and used it to map out the stars above.

Each people had a different story for them. It reminded her of the Commander. So many different interpretations she had heard. But as with the stars, she need not adopt any for herself. She could have her own meaning, for the heavens, and for him.

She wondered how he had fared today. If he had actually taken his rest, or instead intimidated some soldier into bringing him his reports. Likely the latter.

Had everything been all right, they would have walked together again this afternoon. There was a pang in Trevelyan’s chest when she thought of it. A shame.

“Comman—oh!”

The nightwatchman’s call startled Trevelyan. But it seemed she was not the only one.

She whirled, to see the Commander in retreat. Still in his lighter clothing—though his jacket was now buttoned up against the cold—he was attempting to return the way he had come.

Trevelyan hurried to catch him. Not hard, considering his present state.

“Good evening, Commander!” she called.

He stopped and faced her, reluctant—or perhaps shy. He performed a small bow, likely all his aching muscles could manage.

“I just wished to say thank you, for the book,” she told him, smiling—brighter and more genuinely than she had for him all this time. “It was very kind of you. I had been looking at it myself this morning.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied, “it was the least I could do.”

“You didn’t—oh, well.” She wouldn’t argue with his stubbornness fortitude tonight. “I shan’t keep you. I just wanted to thank you.”

He smiled, at least.

“If you were headed this way, you can pass,” she reassured. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh—if you’re sure.”

“Whatever gets you back to bed the fastest,” she joked.

He chuckled, but it soon turned to a cough. “Right. I’ll... be on my way. Good evening.”

“Good evening.”

She clutched the book close as he passed, her smile not leaving her as she watched, nor as she returned to gaze at the stars. If he were not so unwell, he could have joined her, perhaps.

That would be… nice.

[samsung-refrigerator-2000]

answer some or all I wanna know more about you 👁️👁️

Do you have freckles? 

 Do you drink tea or coffee? How do you take it? 

What was the last song you listened to? 

Do you sleep on your back, stomach or side? 

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? 

Do you prefer drawing or writing? 

What’s your ideal number of blankets to sleep with? 

What’s your favorite band/artist? 

When is your birthday? 

How tall are you? 

What color are your eyes? 

Who are five (or more) people you want to hug right now? 

Fears? 

What’s your favorite color? 

What’s your favorite season? 

Want any tattoos? What of? 

Want any piercings? Where? 

Who is the last person you texted? 

Do you have a best friend? How long have you been friends? 

What/who do you miss? 

How was your day today? 

How much sleep did you get last night? 

Do you believe in aliens? 

When was the last time you cried? Why? 

What’s your favorite decade? 

What are some seemingly childish things you like? 

What’s your favorite book? Or just one you’ve read a few times? 

How are you, really? 

Does it take you a long time to make decisions? 

What are you looking forward to in the near future? 

What are you looking forward to in the distant future? 

If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go? 

Do you sleep with your door open or closed? 

What’s your favorite flower? 

Do you currently have a squish? 

Do you like your middle name? 

Do you prefer dogs or cats? 

Do you have any phobias? 

Do you stay up late?

Do you like the beach? Do you prefer it sunny or cloudy? 

What’s your favorite cartoon? 

Tag 5 of your favorite blogs

Do you have siblings? How many? 

Who was the last person you said “I love you” to? 

Is there anyone you would die for? 

What do you need when you’re sad? 

Have you memorized your phone number? 

Who’s someone you can trust with your life? 

What does your last text say? 

Wild Card. Any question, ask away. 

GOD DAMN THAT'S A LOT OF QUESTIONS??? gonna answer probably all of them though. I only ask that you also answer some of them too please 😭

Do you have freckles?

No! I do have just a few birthmarks tho, most notable one is on my hand

Do you drink tea or coffee? How do you take it?

I drink both! I really like hot tea, almost any blend (although I'm not a fan of particularly Earl Grey tea, it tastes gross) and sometimes sweet tea. As for coffee I like it pretty sweet, a med to light roast with some sugar and creamer! My mom only makes dark roast though :((

What was the last song you listened to?

Risk, Risk, Risk! By Jhariah

Do you sleep on your back, stomach, it side?

Stomach and side! Sometimes on the couch I make an exception for my back, but otherwise I physically cannot fall asleep laying on my back

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?

Absolutely!! And if I can't get one to sleep with I'll usually bunch up a bit of my blanket and pretend it's one.

Do you prefer drawing or writing?

Usually I prefer writing, I'm a very word oriented person if that makes sense? Which is why even when watching TV shows in English I still use the captions because it makes things more comprehensive in my mind. But sometimes I like to draw! Especially if it's something that I don't know how to put into words that make sense, y'know?

What's your ideal number of blankets to sleep with?

Depends on how big each blanket is but usually 2!! Although I absolutely CANNOT tolerate a comforter/the big blanket that most people use over their sheets. I use throw blankets almost always.

What's your favorite band/artist?

I'd say right now it's Jack Starbur! Although earlier this year it was Destroy Boys, and I almost convinced my brother to take me to the concert with them, Mother Mother, and Cavetown because I love all of them but alas we had no money 😭

When is your birthday?

March 5th! I just turned 17 last month as well lol (EDIE GOT ME A RUGGIE KEY CHAIN FOR MY BIRTHDAY I NEED TO MAKE A POST ABOUT THAT I LOVE IT SO MUCH)

How tall are you?

5'5 ½ ft or 166cm!

What color are your eyes?

Shit brown 😁

Who are 5 (or more) people you want to hug right now?

Uhhhh Edie, 2 of my teachers, Toby, Edd, and Jackie (I haven't talked to Edd or Jackie in a very long time but they're still on the list). Ooo and Kage and Vio!!

Fears?

ROACHES.

What's your favorite color?

Probably purple or something

What's your favorite season?

Fall!! It's a really beautiful time of year and it's the only time that the weather is actually tolerable in the whole year, and also marching band!

Want any tattoos? What of?

Oooo, I really want a few tattoos, mostly silly little ones of a few things, but I really want a big tattoo on my forearm of an anatomically correct heart!! Maybe on my shoulder instead but I can't decide!

Want any piercings? Where?

YES. I've been wanting a tongue piercing called Frog Eyes for years!!!! It's 2 vertical piercings on each side of your tongue!! I might also want a nose piercing or something but mostly frog eyes!!!

Who is the last person you texted?

Constance!

Do you have a best friend? How long have you been friends.

I think the most obvious answer is Edie (who I've been friends with for a little over a year now) but it's actually my bed. his name is Bertha and we've been friends for 6ish years!

Who/what do you miss?

I miss my old home! I used to live in California a long time ago and I just really miss the air around their, the general sense of existence there as well. Our apartment was in Joshua Tree so there wasn't a lot of people around very often! It was nice out there.

How was your day today?

Pretty good I think! I got Dr. Pepper spilled on my pants at lunch but that was actually pretty funny! I also went and spent time at my friend's house! I always love going there even if I'm scared to ask to go 😭 but it's genuinely one of my favorite places to exist in besides my bed.

How much sleep did you get last night?

I took my melatonin and fell asleep around 11, so about 6 hours if you subtract the time I was awake at 3 with an ATROCIOUS cramp in my calf 😔. Shit hurt man, had me crying and everything 😭 it still kinda hurt today but it wasn't anything I couldn't ignore lmao (yes this was answered with the purpose of going on a rant about the cramp last night even though ive had them before more times than i can count)

Do you believe in aliens?

Dawg the universe is way to big for aliens NOT to exist. So yeah I guess lol

When was the last time you cried? Why?

This morning when I woke up at 3am with that fucking cramp. If you don't count that then I think probably a week or 2 ago because I thought my friend was mad at me

What's your favorite decade?

Probably the 2000's ngl, that or 170 BC

What are some seemingly childish things that you like?

WARRIOR CATS. and people I love coming to support me at things!! It's not really a childish thing but for me it's something I wanted so badly as a kid and eventually grew out of the need for people I care about to come to things like performances that are important to me (but I still wanted it to happen). But one of my friends has been coming sometimes when I ask them too and it's the best!!!

What's your favorite book? Or just one you've read a few times?

CLAWS BY MIKE GRINTI. I LOVE THAT BOOK SO MUCH. I had a copy a few years ago that I read about 7 times but I lost it on a school trip somewhere a few years back.

How are you, really?

At this very moment I am chillin 😎 I just got home recently and my stepdad bribed me to run errands for him with a pretzel. I got 2 of my books back from someone who's had them for a year and I was reading it earlier, it's a good book and I was gonna go back to reading it later tonight as well. It's Not Even Bones by Rebecca Schaeffer. My mom hasn't woken up for work yet and my stepdad is on his computer, my brother's at work, so it's pretty quiet in the house and nice and calm.

Does it take you a long time to make decisions?

Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. It really just depends! But lately it's been a lot easier for me to just make a decision on a whim and go with it so decisions come a bit faster for me now

What are you looking forward to in the near future?

The eclipse! Don't tell my friend or my mom yet but I'm planning on asking if I can stay the night with my friend on Sunday and we can watch the eclipse together on Monday.

I'm also looking forward to getting a job, I've applied to a bunch of places and no one has really gotten back to me but I'm still trying!!

What are you looking forward to in the distant future?

Hmmm, I'd say college. But not starting college in general. I plan to get my bachelor's in psychology here nearby the town I live in but after that I plan on going to New York!! There's a college up there that I really wanna go to and I'm super excited to go there! Although I probably won't apply for another 10ish years, college is expensive and I need to save up

If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go?

Either to one of my friend's house or wherever in my dream last night that I got the hoodie I had in said dream

Do you sleep with your door open or closed?

Open! I was never allowed to close it when I was younger and the habit stuck with me. That and I'm still not really allowed to close it very much ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

What's your favorite flower?

Lilly of the Valley and wild Geranium :D

Do you currently have a squish?

Yeah! It's a little owl and it's small enough to fit in the palm of your hand, I got it last year or so from someone

Do you like your middle name?

Yeah! It's Lyn, so pretty gender neutral!

Do you prefer dogs or cats?

Cats!

Do you have any phobias?

ROACHES. just roaches tho, any other bug is fine

Do you stay up late?

Sometimes! I'm not allowed to have my phone at night anymore on school nights so it's really boring but sometimes I do stuff to keep me entertained like read or go for a walk. I try to go to sleep tho (which is why I take melatonin) because it makes waking up in the mornings just a little easier

Do you like the beach? Do you prefer it sunny or cloudy?

I've only been to the beach once when I was a little kid but it was still pretty mediocre. Maybe it'd be more fun now but I'm still not really gonna go out of my way to go to one, especially not by myself. If I do ever go to one again it'd be to have fun with whoever I'm with!

What's your favorite cartoon?

Too many good ones to choose from ༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽

Do you have siblings? How many?

I have 1 brother 😁 he's 19

Although sometimes if I think for long enough I could probably say that Toby is my brother as well and get away with it. Someone actually thought he was my cousin or something one time

Who was the last person you said "I love you" too?

My friend 😭 the same friend I keep talking about lmao. Although idk if I actually said it or not but like body language??? Y'know? Not words but with actions and stuff. I count that as saying it tho sooo :D

Is there anyone you would die for?

MY CAT. and Cinnamon. And yes like half my friends but mainly the cats.

What do you need when you're sad?

Emotional support hot cocoa™. And a stuffed animal. And my hoodie. But mainly a nap or something. Sob my eyes out and then depersonalize and no longer be sad about it and just go to sleep lol

Do you have your phone number memorized?

Yes but I don't trust myself that I have it memorized so I always check it to make sure

Who's someone you can trust with your life?

Toby and Edie probably. maybe Constance.

What does your last text say?

"I like bananas because they have no bones" that song is almost always playing in my head somewhere i SWEAR

Wild card

What's your favorite philosophical idea??????

HUZZAH. I ANSWERED ALL OF THEM. IT TOOK HOURS BUT IT HAPPENED ‼️‼️

hopefully this isn't far too much to read 😭

I exposed myself quite a bit for this too without thinking but I'm too lazy to go back and read it and change it so I apologize if shit gets weird or something up there.

[penig]

So Scrooge is terrified by the apparition of his old partner, and his first response to that is to try to get one up on it, to embarrass it and make it uncomfortable. Only when that fails does he move on to what for most people would be Step One, rationalization. But rationalization is no good to him, because he does believe in this ghost, and it’s Looking at him, and he can’t bear it - not for the last time in this story, he breaks.

Lack of detailed knowledge of men’s fashion made it a little hard for me to envision Marley, and the My Weekly Reader paperback Iwas reading had no helpful illustration. I also didn’t know - how could I? - that the mouths of corpses had to be bound closed to prevent post-mortem processes from drawing the mouth open so that the corpse greeted visitors with a hideous grimace, so that was a random grotesquerie to my juvenile mind. All this, and the bristling of Marley’s tassels and hair as if, despite the cold, agitated by waves of hot air, combine to place this transparent entity in a liminal state, half physical and present, half in some immaterial Hellspace.

As is often true of Dickens’s elderly gentlemen, Marley has not updated his wardrobe with the advance of the 19th century. By the 1840’s, trousers were standard menswear, and tasseled Hessian boots and pigtails were passé, but seven years ago Marley still wore them and was buried in them and in knee breeches and tights. It is hard for me to parse what Dickens intended when he dressed his elderly men this way, but presumably it signaled something to his original audience- conservatism, perhaps; or extreme frugality; or (an affectation of) indifference to fashion.

Regardless of degree of comprehension of the precise details, though, the horror of the scene is vivid, and the sudden collapse of Scrooge’s defenses fully justified. Moreover, Marley is fully present as a person as well as a horror. We are told that he and Scrooge were cut from the same cloth, and Marley clearly knows how to tackle his old partner, countering each of his defensive moves without raising a sweat or yielding an inch of ground. The power move of undoing the wrapper is perfectly timed and gains him control of the conversation. I suspect this was their usual dynamic, with one or the other gaining the upper hand depending on circumstances as well as verbal skill, rather than one being dominant over the other.

It’s possible that Scrooge has missed it, and that his combative attitude towards everyone he’s spoken to so far is part of a search for a replacement, someone he can relate to and still struggle with.

[optiwashere]

I saw some discussion about Shadowheart's path, if Tav/Your character is dead when she confronts the Nightsong she will kill her 100% of the time. Saying that this is her "true" path and what she wants, how she only stops due to your presence. The DJ end is her "best" end due to her being confident and fulfilled, how she is actual quite an evil character due to torture etc. How it fits the lore better

All I can politely say is that I'm glad I isolate myself from most fandom spaces for this game, because this is a doozy.

She has to be memory wiped so many times because of how often she drifts back to questioning Sharran teachings and just being Very Bad at it. So I don't really buy "100%" of the time, but that's also because I personally believe nobody has absolute certainty in their morals and faith that certain situations wouldn't test.

There's kind of a whole section about that in the Shadowfell.

I don't even want to touch the Tav/PC comment. That's a barrel of worms that isn't worth opening.

For some folks, I think they just want something against the grain or not "typical" and so they naturally gravitate towards things like the Dark Justiciar ending. It's a different kind of wish fulfillment fantasy for them.

"I can make her worse" and all that. I don't think the reason people like that ending is because it's good for her lmao.

Long ramble while I'm on break ahead.

That said, a lot of people need to relearn critical thinking and practice emotional skills. Or they need to watch the full story side-by-side on both paths, because some of this shit is so blatant it's fascinating how some folks miss it.

I think assuming the A -> B -> C of "oh, she's a Sharran so she would strive to become a Dark Justiciar, there is no alternative character explanation for/against that" is a simple-minded approach.

It also, in my opinion, restricts people into very fundamentalist-adjacent viewpoints and thoughts. If someone was made to believe without a shadow of a doubt that they were born X way, or behaved Y way for Z years, then they must be that person forever and always. No, it doesn't work like that lol.

There's also no true path in this game until/if there's a sequel, because there's too many paths the characters can take. I use a lot of "I" statements and say "this is a theory/extratextual" in my opinions for that reason.

Aside #1: It's also why I take a lot of umbrage with anyone that says there's canon ships, or that there's ships that "obviously would happen." Maybe? Maybe not? It's just silly and far too self-restricting for no good reason. I get if you just want to ship one thing, but you don't have to justify it lol. Enjoy what you enjoy, but don't try to strongarm it into "canon" that doesn't really exist.

And saying it's "what she wants" and that she is confident and fulfilled is a load of shit lmao.

You (the royal you, not you, anon) have to have negative reading comprehension to put Shadowheart down that path and be like, "yeah, she loves this." It's so typical of an abuse victim to try and appease her abuser, and the Dark Justiciar route is her indulging in that. But to hear her lines in the romance afterwards, about how she can't really love the PC, combined with how she has to deal with her parents and how she retreats from being open about herself to being cold and distant once more...?

To say it's "right" for her is absolutely wild, and I despise the thought that there can't be happy endings or we can't want her to have a happy ending. I love fucked up stories with miserable endings, but I also love warm stories with joy and love and redemption at the end of it all.

It's also a massively surface-level read to say it's anything she wants. Sometimes people push themselves down paths they don't know how to retreat from, and the ends are often horrifying.

Aside #2: It's the same as if you cheat on her with Mizora. Like, she might be OK with relationships that are non-monogamous (if the player is) but the way the VA and writing and mocap combined in that scene make it painfully obvious that she is just trying to appease you to keep the relationship intact. Supremely typical abused person behavior, but now the PC is the abuser instead. Seeing people comment that she's OK with the Mizora situation is head-on-backwards level misreading.

She has done evil deeds in her past, sure. I think if you blanket claim she cannot be redeemed, you're going into some wild territory at the logical conclusion of that one. Her circumstances also alter how we interpret her past as well, and I think it intersects with my belief that compassion is a learned skill that not everyone cultivates.

Not to mention that everyone in the BG3 cast can be turned "evil" or at least made to do dark shit. "One True Way" types will never understand that there is a multitude of experiences, and it translates to this game as well.

And finally.

The lore?

Lol. Lmao even.

We know who the "real" Shadowheart is, but in some universes she destroys that person in order to foolishly seek approval from her abuser/goddess. In others, in mine for example, she abandons that goddess to embrace the person she's been forced to hide.

So yeah, my ultimate response to "Dark Justiciar Shadowheart is the real Shadowheart" is a big, wet fart noise.

[squishmallow36]

It's all I wish to hear tonight, and you're all I wish to be, and this is how we all fall - Chapter Two

Summary: the garvar fic has turned garvarioli! We've done a bit of a time skip because I didn't want to write the dating and the blushing and the getting to know each other blah blah blah. So now they're just in a relationship and the fact I didn't feel the need to slowburn it is astonishing to me. Anyway Garwin's gonna be joining the Neverseen officially. Yeah that's pretty much the whole plot.

Word count: 3011

TW: drug mention, murder mention, implied sex, swearing. This is the farthest into pg-13 territory I've gone but these idiots demand it.

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @faggot-friday @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @remember-me-in-another-time @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @xanadaus @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @arson-anarchy-death @dizzeners @thefoxysnake

The people who aren't on my taglist and I'm sorry for bothering you but you lost your minds on the last chapter so uh you did this to yourself (?): @camelspit @tw-5

On Ao3 (users only because, you know, AI) or below the cut

Previous chapter in case you missed it, but you don't really need it to read this :)

    “You know, if you ignore all the work camps, Sadlitzagvadtka is a lovely place,” Alvar remarks. 

    Ruy’s laugh drags Garwin’s attention from the bubbling Eventide River, bright green as it crashes against the rocks. 

    “I mean, you could say the same thing about the USSR,” Garwin muses. 

    “Yes, but we ignore those parallels, love. I don’t want to have to send you to the gulag.” Alvar replies, crossing one leg over the other as he takes a sip of his choyi. 

    Much like most of the foods of the non-Forbidden Cities, choyi looks nothing like how it tastes. The sludgy green slime is in a direct contrast to its strawberry lemonade milkshake flavor. Although how it doesn’t curdle is apparently “beyond human comprehension.”

    That’s just code for “we don’t know and we don’t want to admit it.” It was annoying at first, but it’s kind of become a running joke. 

    What the rest of the Neverseen doesn’t seem to grasp is that he does the same thing to them whenever he doesn’t feel like telling them about some cursed human shit. 

    They absolutely lost their shit when he told them about Twinkies. If they can’t handle apocalypse-proof snack cakes, there’s a hundred other food crimes several points higher on a logarithmic scale they won’t be able to conceptualize without their pathetic little elvin brains shattering. 

     Like pineapple on pizza. 

    Garwin can’t physically have less of an opinion, but the idea of having to explain the concept to elves makes him want to jump off a cliff. And not in the Sophie-teleportation way. 

    Hey--don’t think about that bitch. First she’s accepted into Yale with a full scholarship and now she has four abilities. Apparently she’s some sort of science experiment. I hope they transposed a decimal place. 

    “What am I in for tomorrow?” Garwin asks after a moment of silence. 

    Alvar opens his mouth, but Ruy interrupts him before he gets the chance. “Cállate, mi vida. Sharing any details would be a violation of the Neverseen code article seven, section three, ‘the council is always watching so don’t discuss confidential shit in public.’”

    “I call bullshit. You people are nowhere near organized enough to have an official code.”

    “Well, yes,” Alvar concedes. “But it’s more fun if you don’t know what’s going to happen. Besides, I’m sure Fintan has cooked up some interesting changes from when we swore fealty, so anything we tell you could be completely wrong by now.”

    “Yes, but I’m sure at least one of you have been involved in the planning,” Garwin argues. 

    “We can neither confirm nor deny that,” Ruy says, admitting his guilt. 

    Garwin rolls his eyes. I picked these dumbasses over going to a nice, normal, human, non-ivy league school ? I mean--at least there’s no finals. I guess. 

    He takes a sip of his choyi.

    “I promise it won’t be that painful,” Alvar says in an effort to remedy the situation, earning himself a glare from Ruy. 

    Garwin leans forward, head resting in his cupped hands. “And when did you become such a goody little two shoes rule follower, Exilium boy?”

    Ruy rolls his eyes behind his addler, because of course he has it on. We’re in public--well, sort of, as there literally aren’t any ogres in a hundred foot radius--and that means we’ve gotta wear the addler. 

    It’s like how Garwin also conditioned himself to wear the same sweatshirt almost every single day one school year like it’s his own personal security blanket but we don’t talk about that. 

    But now the elves have stupid capes, so that solves that problem. Even if he doesn’t have an officially licensed Neverseen cape until probably tomorrow. Unless there’s some elaborate scheme being planned. Which of course there will be. This is what happens when you take three or more gay idiots and tell them to plan something. 

    If it ain’t absolute batshit, what’s the fucking point? 

    Alvar’s smile falls as he pulls out his Imparter. He must be getting harassed once again. This is why Garwin doesn’t have one. Well, that, and the fact that he’s not a legal resident of the Lost Cities. Same thing. 

    “Y’all can see that I’m busy right now so I can’t answer a hail, right?” he says tiredly. 

    “Yes, indeed.” Garwin throws back the last of his choyi, smiling. 

    “The Fork Man wants me for some shit and I’m having a good day, so he will be getting ignored for a while. Are we really sure I can’t come out to the Bullshit?” 

    “Bullshit” is Garwin’s nickname for the Black Swan because it both represents their ideology and, at least in English, they can be abbreviated the same way. At least his pathetic short human life will be worth something, even if it is just an inside joke that’s more explanation than it’s worth. 

    “You know what Fintan’s orders are, and if you don’t wanna get burnt to a crisp, I’d recommend following them. Now, that doesn’t mean he knows what he’s doing. It’s just a matter of self preservation. I don’t make the rules around here. If I did, we’d have to replace more Councillors than just the one.”

    Alvar rolls his eyes at his Imparter. “The Fork Man is being very insistent. I have a feeling I’m gonna have to drop you two off at home and talk to him. Be prepared for some shit to be going down soon, regardless of whether or not I have a chance to share details.” He turns to his imparter, inventing new swear words just to curse at the Fork. 

    Like he said, Alvar drops Ruy and Garwin off at “home”--their assigned room at a Neverseen facility Garwin’s not allowed to know any details about--to much argument. He shan’t be allowed to have all the fun without them but alas, ‘tis the way the world works sometimes. 

    The next morning, Garwin sleepily blinks himself back to the land of the living, snuggled into the crook of Ruy’s neck, but there’s no Alvar to be found. 

    He better fucking be okay. 

    Ruy’s hand absently twirls Garwin’s hair, and when he notices that Garwin is slightly less dead to the world than usual, he smiles. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

    “It’s still morning? Damn. Guess I gotta go back to sleep. Need my beauty rest.”

    “Bitch, no amount of sleep is gonna help.”

    Garwin huffs, turning away from Ruy. “Fuck you.”

    “So soon after last night, mi amor?”

    Garwin leans back to look at him. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”     

    “Yeah.” Ruy presses a soft kiss to his lips. God damn. If you weren’t so fucking hot, J wouldn’t put up with you. Love you, Rue. 

    Garwin kisses him again, pulling him close. 

    Ruy gently pushes him back. “Finny’s gonna be pissed if we miss the prescheduled time.”

    “Fuck Finny.”

    “Look, I get that you’re polyam. I know, no shit, Sherlock. But there is no way I’m going anywhere near him or near you again if you do. Man’s got his own harem.”

    “Ooh, please do elaborate.” 

    “Let’s see…I’ve heard rumors that he and Bronte are or were a thing. Not sure if they’re still a thing though, considering the war crimes, but it wouldn’t surprise me if they were. And then have you ever wondered about the alliance with the Ogres? Dimitar. Fintan. Yeah. Then there’s Fallon, one of the original three Councillors. And I’m not completely sure on this one but there’s a prisoner in Lumenaria and I’ve got mixed evidence but I don’t doubt it. Uh, then there’s J.R.R. Tolkien. You might’ve heard of him because he’s a human. And how could we forget Shakespeare. He’s…also a human. If I remember correctly. I’m sure there’s more that I’m missing because I have actively tried to ignore everything, but yeah.”

    With each name, Garwin regrets his life choices more and more. And more. “What the fuck do you mean Shakespeare? Like, the one of the William variety? The playwright?” 

    “Yeah. Sometimes Finny drops into iambic pentameter just to make us suffer. Are you really sure you want to be exposed to all of the Neverseen drama?”

    “Might gouge my eyes out but, eh, whatever. Sounds fun. If Yale doesn’t want me I guess I’ll have to cause large amounts of havoc instead.”

    Ruy smiles. “I’m going to go foraging for some semblance of a breakfast that doesn’t taste like dogshit. Don’t cause too much havoc while I’m gone.”

    “No promises.”

    Ruy shakes his head as he gets up, joints singing the song of his people--the Rice Crispy elves. 

    Garwin throws on some clothes and inhales breakfast before he’s led to a hideout he’s never seen before. 

    This one is really fucking bleak and really fucking disappointing. There’s probably tetanus on every surface of the grimy, ragged brick walls. It’s the exact kind of place where you should expect to have your body never found, but honestly if they’ve waited this long to kill him, that’s kind of their own poor planning. 

    A set of stairs leads into the even more murder-y looking abyss below. 

    Having no better options, Garwin slowly begins to make his way down without slipping on the mossy, uneven stairs and falling and bonking his head and dying. 

    At the bottom, he finds a room, larger than it seems like it should be, lit entirely by flickering, yellow candlelight. It catches on bottles of what appears to be wine set into racks every few feet or so. 

    He will never admit that this reminds him of a short story he was forced to read--and perhaps even enjoyed reading--in ninth grade English. 

    As Garwin steps closer to the middle of the room where a space has haphazardly cleared, he notices the first of many cloaked figures, white eyed lapels glowing in the dim light.

    In total, around a dozen figures surround him, and he searches for Ruy in the crowd. Well, it’s not exactly a crowd, per se, but it feels like one in the cramped space. 

    It doesn’t take much effort to find him, with his long, dark hair curling out and escaping the hood. 

    That being said, Garwin can tell who most of the figures are without trying. From Umber’s absolutely sunny disposition to Fintan’s concave ass, it’s not exactly difficult. It’s just a little dissatisfying that Alvar isn’t there.

    Fintan lowers his hood like it’s some huge reveal, whispering ominously, “Garwin Chang. You wish to join our order?”

    Garwin nods. “That’s…kind of why I’m down here. Although these wine bottles do look like they could be some fun.”

    A low, overprotective growl echoes behind him as his fingers trace the label written in fancy Trollish. One of the many, many languages not on Duolingo that no one bothered to teach him how to read. Hell, most of the time he can barely read English but that’s an issue for a different day. 

    “I trust you know you’re the first non-member of an intelligent species to join our ranks in a long while,” Fintan says. Garwin’s hand falls to his side. 

    “I wouldn’t exactly call Ruy intelligent, but okay.”

    That got a couple of snickers out of the crowd and a death glare from Ruy despite most of his face being cast in shadow. 

    “Well, you got me there. I was prepared to make a convoluted line of reasoning like I’m hopped up on a cola before all of those pesky safety regulations were introduced, but you made it for me instead.”

    Wait, is he an old man bitching about New Coke or is referring to when the recipe had cocaine? Or just…caffeine? And sugar? Any of the above interpretations are fucking hilarious, so it doesn’t matter which is true. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t an objectively best answer. 

    “The rest of the requirements are simple: do you promise to do everything in your power to help our world?”

    “Yeah, sure. Why not?” Garwin shrugs, smirking. 

    “Convince me.” Fintan’s icy gaze stares into Garwin’s soul. A threat behind his words.

    “I’ve been seeing Alvar and Ruy for months on end now. Do you really think I would go through all of that if I wasn’t committed? I could’ve blackmailed my way into a Yale scholarship long ago, but I’ve stayed. And for what? Because I almost care about this place not being a shithole. Also because there aren’t any taxes but we don’t need to mention that.”

    “Yeah, the cost of living is real fucking low when you’re mooching off of Alvar,” Ruy mutters. 

    Cállate. 

    …Holy fuck, Ruy has infected my brain. I don’t like this. How dare he keep sprinkling Spanish into everyday conversation? It’s like he wants to prove that he’s not an idiot to this human idiot because he knows, like, four words in a human language.     

    In reality, it’s because he lived in an undisclosed Spanish-speaking country during his time at Exilium and hasn’t broken the habit. But why be reasonable when you can be petty and bitter because he knows more Spanish than you do even after taking it for three years? 

    To be completely fair, he didn’t pay attention and convinced a kid to send him pictures of the homework and cheated on the tests, but in his defense, he didn’t realize he’d need it later in life. At least Google Translate exists all of its glorious inaccuracy. 

    “I bestow upon thee thou official codename: Elay.” Fintan says, bowing his head. “Alvar came up with it so don’t ask me what it means. Normally each person gets to pick out their own, but he was insistent and it’s not important enough to me to argue with him.”

    Yeah, that sounds about right. Gonna have to ask Alvar about it later. Maybe he’s avoiding me because he doesn’t want a full interrogation in the middle of this murder chamber. Yeah--let’s go with that. It’s better than imagining him in a Black Swan murder chamber. 

    Fintan takes a metal rod and heats it until it glows a faint red, bright in the dim light, knighting Garwin. And thankfully not sizzling his ears off in the process. 

    Fintan nods at a hooded figure Garwin only knows by his codename and that he’s a guster. “Trix, if you please?”

    Trix hands Garwin a bundle of dark fabric, emblazoned with a bright white eye. 

    It unfolds like the little bitch folded things always are, causing unattached pieces of concerningly neon fabric to fall to the ground. 

    As Garwin reaches to pick them up, it becomes all too clear that they’re not only bright pink and orange but also a very, very 80s leotard and legwarmers.

    What the actual everliving fuck?

    …and also maybe Fintan did mean New Coke. 

    It’s up to the stars above to decide which is a worse revelation. 

    “You know, Ruy, if you wanted me to wear this, you could’ve just asked. No need for all of this.”

    Ruy flips him off. He’s probably glare-smiling behind the hood though. 

    Garwin drapes the cloak part of the Neverseen uniform around his shoulders. It’s wonderfully heavy, like a weighted blanket, but surprisingly breathable. It’s probably made from a gnomish fabric which is weird because the gnomes hate their guts as much as plants are capable of hate. 

    And now I’ll finally be allowed to know why that is.

     The crowd begins shifting around him, escaping slowly up the narrow steps and light leaping away to god knows where, and soon only Ruy and Garwin are left. 

    “I got an update from Alvar,” Ruy smiles mischievously. “This should be a fun first assignment for you.”

     No fewer than three light leaps later, Garwin is in the Lodestar system, standing in front of a blonde boy with ice blue eyes. He’s immediately recognizable from Alvar’s stash of pictures he keeps to pretend like he’s still connected to his family. 

    He also knows Sophie, a regrettable decision. 

    “Meet our new son: Keefe,” Alvar says, mussing his hair. 

    Keefe flinches away. “Bitch, I’m literally only, like, six years younger than you,” he complains. “Also hasn’t my dad fucked your dad?” He puts air quotes around both uses of “Dad.” Fun family dynamic and it hasn’t even been five minutes yet. 

    “I do believe I was the one who told you about that.” Alvar turns to Ruy and Garwin. “I’ll take first shift babysitting.”

    “Nonsense. I don’t trust Garwin nearly enough to be by himself and you’ve been up all night causing problems and destroying half of Ravagog--”

    “--which is a perfectly normal way to spend an evening, thank you very much.”

    “--so you will be going home and you will take a nap. I’ll make sure Blondie here doesn’t have any tricks up his sleeve.”

    There’s a glint on Alvar’s eye that looks like he wants to argue, but a yawn cuts him off before he gets the chance. 

    Garwin almost has to physically drag him back home, partially from him being tired and partially from him not wanting to go to bed because some days he acts like a toddler. 

    “Sorry I couldn’t be at your coronation today.”

    Garwin kisses his cheek. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure sooner or later, Ruy’s gonna end up doing a whole reenactment except I actually get walled into the wine cellar this time.”

    Alvar laughs halfheartedly. 

    “And, besides. It’s not like it’s gonna change much. Do I still hate the elvin government? Yes. Is the Bullshit still a bunch of useless dumbasses? Yes. Are you still going to tell me shit that’s way above my pay grade? Abso-fucking-lutely. It’s just now I don’t have to steal your cape when it’s cold out. But I will anyway for old times’ sake.” 

    “Unmapped stars, you’re such a little shit.”

    Well, if you can’t make your boyfriend regret being with you, what’s the fucking point? 

  “And yet you’ve repeatedly chosen to not leave me to die in the middle of the neutral territories. So who’s the real winner here?”

    Alvar sighs, shaking his head. 

    God damn, he’s cute when he’s annoyed. 

[broodwolf221]

the only way i've learned to stay sane in fandom is:

keep scrolling

block

i don't have to be right

mine is not the only valid interpretation

interpretations i dislike do not hurt me or others*

unless someone actively invites discussion, don't interact unless i happen to agree - this is just polite imo

never imply an individual has poor reading comprehension

never imply that an individual is missing or misunderstanding information

avoid tags

curate my own experience

re: 6-8; we are not in school, we are not studying. we are having fun on the internet discussing things we enjoy. this is not an open debate forum it is playing with dolls

*in rare cases they may be harmful, but even then, just block and go. you're not going to change their mind by arguing and you're going to expose a lot of people to the harmful thing

[callumilott]

junior drivers to watch in 2023

a comprehensive, incomplete and biased list by yours truly, based on what ive watched/read in 2022

Andrea Kimi Antonelli (age 16, Mercedes junior | 2022: Italian & German F4) only the second driver to win both italian and german f4 in the same season. seems like someone to watch and someone who might progress to f3 next season. i haven’t personally seen him race yet but the double title is quite telling

Ollie Bearman (age 17, Ferrari junior | 2022: F3) the first driver to win both italian and german f4 in one season. had a superb rookie season in f3 in which he nearly took the title home. still a lot to learn as he was prone to some rookie errors but nothing he can’t sort out with some more experience. will probably progress to f2 in 2023 and, depending on the team, might very well be a solid candidate for the title

Franco Colapinto (age 19 | 2022: F3) joined f3 as a rookie with a brand new team (VAR) which took over the HWA entry. both franco and the team absolutely smashed it out of the park and got really good results. very impressive driver who i’m excited about to see what else he can do. better car probably required tho

Enzo Fittipaldi (age 21, Red Bull junior | 2022: F2) after recovering from a horrific accident in 2021 to race in f2 again in 2022, enzo has been absolutely impressive. he drives a charouz for crying out loud. got a several podiums and is in a fight with several others for a top 4 (or potentially top 3) finish in the f2 standings. i hope he can continue this in a next season. who knows what he can do with a better car

Ollie Goethe (age 18 | 2022: Euroformula Open & F3 temp) this kid positively blew me away tbh. he joined campos in f3 as a sub in hungary where it rained all weekend. he qualified in reverse grid pole (p10) in only his second ever session in an f3 car, took points in the sprint and barely missed out on a podium in spa. hope he gets promoted to f3 in a good team and he can show what he can really do with a full time drive

Isack Hadjar (age 18, Red Bull junior | 2022: F3) so he was on to win f3 for a while but in the end lost out to the 3 others also on this list. he’s still stellar, don’t let that p4 fool you, and i think we’ll see more great things from him in the future. i definitely hope so at least. promoting him to f2 might be too soon but who knows what they’re smoking at the RB junior program. very impressive and quite consistent, which is always impressive for a junior.

Zane Maloney (age 19 | 2022: F3) quite impressive in f3, almost took the title home as well. prone to some rookie errors but overall a solid driver who really found his groove throughout the season. curious to see what he can do next year! no idea if he’s gonna get promoted or not but either way, i’m sure he’ll do well

Victor Martins (age 21, Alpine junior (god help him) | 2022: F3 champion) won, of course, the f3 title this year. he has his off days sometimes but is overall very very solid. i just think he’s neat and he’s also very good. most likely will be promoted to f2 next year, potentially with ART. his rookie season might not be as mind-blowing as some people expect, but he’s a driver who needs a bit of time to get used to a series and find his groove so he’ll be fine!

Sebastian Montoya (age 17 | 2022: Formula Regional & F3 temp) i’ve only seen him race as a sub in f3 this year but with minimal experience in an f3 car he scored points in both races he did! in a campos! if he gets promoted, i think he’ll be one to watch as a front runner. potentially?

Zak O’Sullivan (age 17, Williams junior | 2022: F3) listen i know ur wondering why p11 in the championship is on this list but LISTEN. he’s good. he had one hell of a learning curve this year with straight up silly errors at the start but he’s learning! he had some superb results as well and rumour has it he’s going to prema next year which means he will be a solid front runner. also, that wet-to-dry race in hungary where he went from 28th to 4th? yeah :) i think hes neat. hes like callum but in italics u know

Gregoire Saucy (age 22 | 2022: F3) again, why is p15 of the standings here, u ask? because he has potential that really didn’t show too well this year. i’m not sure what his achilles heel is but he’s also a driver who does better with more experience so i hope he’ll get another shot next year. not someone i’d write off based on one bad season is all i’ll say

[acourtofthought]

People saying you're downplaying e/riel scenes when you just stating facts BASED on the same book we're all reading is so funny to me LMAO

I finished this series exactly 6 months ego and tbh I knew about e/riel, elucien and gwynriel situation and the whole ship war that is going on right now so I really tried to be open minded about them so I can choose wisely.

And let me tell you when I was so surprised that there are people (so many in fact) out there shipping e/riel (SPECIALLY AFTER AZ'S BONUS CHAPTER) was so baffling to me that I was sure I missed some parts... And I asked myself if they have ever read a romance book at all!!

Bc nothing about e/riel scenes felt romantic to me, platonic? Maybe. But romantic? Nope. Like I've read enough romance book to know how romance feels like in books (good romance novels tho)

And at first I thought I was the only one who felt about them like I do. Specially when I only read the books once and obviously you miss so many little details unconsciously. But I realised so many others who read with me and in general after acosf and they weren't in the fandom while the possibility of e/riel was kinda a lot, don't ship Az with Elain. And I love that about sjm bc even though you might not see the details she carefully puts in her books, you subconsciously get to the point where she wants to take you.

Yes at first I didn't saw the possiblity of gwyn and Az but after finishing the book I felt that there might be something after all then I saw the many little scenes they had in my second read that it's passable but it's there.

Or when I read the bonus chapter all I felt was this uncomfortable and uneasiness about e/riel scene. And in my second read I knew that sjm was pointing the fact that they're not it and the possibility of gwynriel went so high for me.

And then I saw your page and saw the many details about elucien scenes and both of them individually. Like sjm is really trying to tell us how this going to be but ppl are still oblivious about it and try to drag both gwyn and Lucien down (both of them are SA survivor and possibly the nicest character in the series who both deserve so much better) bc they feel threatened by them!!

Maybe if your ship was more based on romance and love and not lust (and not mentioning the fact that both Az and Elain are not mentally ready for any sort of romantic relationship and if they were, they wouldn't choose each other but they're not ready for that argument lol) we wouldn't be here at all...

This was my experience tho... everyone has a different one based on their reading comprehension :)

I hope you have a good day and thank you for showing me how beautiful elucien story can be<33

Thank you for your message!

I think your reading experience is similar to the one a lot of others had. And that in of itself should be a pretty big sign, right?

When people read romance books, they typically feel like they're reading romance.

No Elucien's think Elucien is in love or currently have feelings for one another, they see the potential of what could be when Elain and Lucien are in a place to fall in love.

No Gwynriels think Gwynriel is in love and currently have feelings for one another, they see the potential of what could be when Gwyn and Az are in a place to fall in love.

But a portion of the fandom insist that E/riel are in love.

Doesn't it seem strange that over 50% of the fandom doesn't get a true romance vibe between two people that some declare are in love? Attraction? Sure. But that's not the same thing as love and authentic feelings. I have to say, a romance author being unable to convince nearly all her readers that a couple has feelings for one another is not a very strong writer at all (which I believe SJM to be). And you mentioned this point but it's not even that some don't get a romantic vibe between E/riel, it's that they feel legitimately uncomfortable about his thoughts and behaviors towards Elain and a good romance shouldn't make you cringe, especially if you're reading an SJM book. When a couple is falling in love in one of her books, it's very clear what's happening. That's not to say her characters aren't morally gray and they're not a G rated Disney movie or first crush kind of love but you aren't left wondering if they guy actually likes the girl or whether he's just desperate to be included in the "Mated to an Archeron Sisters" Club like his brothers are. You're not left leaving an E/riel scene knowing that Az isn't reflecting on how amazing Elain is but instead is focused on how much he hates himself and is so jealous that he's going off half-cocked about killing allies with no regards to how immature he's acting. We don't leave his Bonus Chapter feeling good because we just witnessed him going on and on about how unique and special Elain is, we leave his Bonus Chapter focused on Az and his entire truckload of baggage.

Sure, SJM likes us to know that her males don't feel worthy of their female but it doesn't encompass their entire persona. And in this case, it's not Az not feeling worthy of Elain, it's Az feeling completely unworthy at all times which proves he is in no way ready to have anything with anyone at the moment.

[nobleclover]

Hello, I'm Noble Clover! Call me either Noble or Clover! I don't mind! 😊

Age: 28

Sexuality: greyromantic asexual 🖤🩶🤍💜

Gender: Cis female

Nationality: 🇮🇪

Beliefs: Agnostic

I usually post SFW art here, although I do sometimes post gore and mildly NSFW (censored, ofc) so if you wanna complain about the stuff I post, then fuck off. Plus, I tag everything appropriately, so no point wasting your breath. If you don't like any of the ship art I produce, that's a you problem. You can just mute any tag you don't feel comfortable with instead of throwing a shitfit over things.

DNI if you are:

Racist

Ableist

Ageist

Like shitting on people's religions.

Sexist

LGBTQ+-phobic, ESPECIALLY if you're acephobic.

Zionist (I REALLY don't like these guys 😀)

Likes to engage in Internet discourse bullshit, e.g. shipping discourse bullshit. 😒

Media illiterate.

A/I, N/F/T or scammer of any kind.

An asshole in general. (Seriously, I've dealt with my fair share of assholes in 2022 and 2023, I don't need anymore bullshit 😑)

My ask box is always open for anyone who is curious about my hcs and other cool stuff. I have lots of OCs for different interests/WIPs of mine, so here's a list of them below (so far):

Plus, expect shameless self-promotion, particularly of my webcomic The Missing Ghost. 👻 (Read it here: https://www.webtoons.com/en/canvas/the-missing-ghost/list?title_no=783196)

I also post other stuff pertaining to my ocs, as well as my other interests like Rayman, Night in the Woods, Cuphead, horror, metal and so much more!

Feel free to follow me at these cool sites as well! 👇