#is realistic to ignore your trauma and pretend?yes but i don't want realistic i want Bela to heal

[furoruisa]

Also Eric was hurt about the cheating so he gets a free pass

BUT THE GIRLS! REALLY AFTER S1 WHITNEY WITH THE CREEPY COACH THEY JUST SAID "don't tell him" "was he drunk?" Like bfr girls, Dan was telling everyone about he and Bela having sex, she's 18/19!! That man is 30 or more!! Aren't we seeing the problem here?

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Two: Truth

Author's note: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: allusions to sex, mention of trauma

Word count: 4,400>

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Two - Next

"Can I help you?" you jumped when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You spun around on your heel, diverting your attention from the man on the television to the petite blonde girl who was doting a pale pink pant suit. Her blue eyes seemed friendly enough, but her expression of bewilderment and slight disdain was enough to make you uncomfortable. Your lips parted slightly as you tried to gather your words.

"I'm… I'm looking for someone," you said hesitantly. You turned back around to watch the television, pressing the palm of your hand against the screen and watching him with awe. You weren't sure if you were more flabbergasted by this brand new technology, or by the handsome man who was attempting to sell you oil.

"You're going to have to be more specific," the woman placed a hand on her hip and quirked her eyebrow.

"My friend Alistair…" you said slowly before shaking your head and smiling. "Do you know this man?" you pointed at the television.

The blonde woman looked completely and utterly perplexed. "Mr Lord?" she asked. Her mind was racing: everyone knew who her boss was. She pondered for a moment, questioning who exactly you were and where did you come from before shaking her head profusely. "Wait, I’m sorry. Did you just say Alistair?" she pinched the bridge of her nose and began to circle around you, taking in your appearance; judging your native Amazonian outfit and muddy skin.

"Yes, Alistair. We met in the park earlier," you explained. "Please excuse the dirt on my body."

"Mr Lord’s son…?" the lady said, speaking her thoughts out loud. No woman had ever come to Black Gold Cooperative requesting to see Alistair, note even his own mother. "Who are you?"

You smiled politely, taking the lady's hand. "I'm here to help. Where can I find Mr Lord?"

"Do you have an appointment with him?" the lady in pink asked, walking around the main desk and checking the computer. "I'm his secretary by the way. My name is Raquel." she mumbled as she pressed a few keys.

You introduced yourself and shook her hand, admiring her beautifully manicured nails. "An appointment?" you repeated. "No, not really. He doesn’t know I’m coming.”

“Mr Lord is a very busy man,” Raquel sighed, tapping her manicured acrylic nails against the oak wood desk. “He doesn’t do surprise visits.”

“That’s okay, I wish to see Alistair anyway. I must know if he’s okay.” your body was still rife with concern over what you had witnessed happen to the little boy earlier at the playpark, and how he had disappeared.

“There is no way for me to contact Alistair, he’s just a child… but uh, let me see what I can do.” Raquel sighed, knowing she wasn’t easily going to get rid of you anytime soon. “I can give Mr Lord a call and let him know you wish to see him,” she told you, ringing in his phone number. “Can I ask what your business with him is?”

“I’m here to help him,” you repeated with an eager grin.

“Right,” Raquel said slowly as you turned back to the television, admiring the man with the dark blonde hair, sporting the three piece designer suits. “Help him with what?”

You blinked momentarily, watching this Mr Lord drone on and on and on. “Oil.” you practically squeaked out.

“Oil?” Raquel questioned, not believing you for one minute. She had every right inkling to believe you were dangerous, but it was her job to contact Maxwell in this type of situation, no matter what. You squeezed your eyes shut almost sensing her disbelief when you heard her speak again. Her voice had changed completely, high pitched and almost articulated. “Oh, yes, hi! Mr Lord! There is someone here who wishes to see you.”

Thank the Gods he’d picked up the phone before Raquel could quiz you further.

Maxwell had answered from the car phone. He’d just dropped Alistair off at Julianna and Theodore’s home. It was never fun, having to go see his wife. He wanted to be strong, and he certainly wanted to keep his promise to Alisitar, about spending the whole weekend together - but there was too much at stake. He knew that deep down, Alisitair would understand one day. Maxwell cursed himself for messing up so quickly. The phone rang just as Maxwell slid back into the car. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Max huffed a sigh and held the phone to his ear. “Who is it?” Maxwell asked wearily. “If it’s the FBI or the FTC…”

Maxwell was nervous. He was even confused that Raquel was still at Black Gold, still happy to work for him after he did commit what potentially could be classified as war crimes. Maxwell was a realist and he knew that with every action, came a consequence. The world had never been kind to him, and he looked down at the envelope that Theodore had handed to him. His name, Maxwell Lorenzano, was written on the front in Julianna’s perfectly inked calligraphy. Max hated it. He didn’t have his name legally changed fifteen years ago just so his ex wife could throw his old identity back in his face. He hated his real name. It was a constant reminder of his past life. But now he didn’t know what was worse, being a Lord or a Lorenzano. The name Lorenzano had been tainted for him, by his family, and years of bullying. But the name Lord? He’d tainted that himself. A conman. A stupid, messed up loser. Julianna hadn’t wanted to see Maxwell, and instead sent her new boyfriend to collect Alistair from him.

“Julianna wants you to have this,” Theodore said with a frown, taking Alistair’s hand and pulling him away from Maxwell. “When you read through it, give her a call.” was all he said before slamming the front door in Max’s face. Max didn’t know what was inside the envelope, but he knew it couldn’t be good.

“No, it’s not the FBI or the FTC. It’s a woman,” Raquel said hesitantly. “She… she’s a bit odd,” Raquel whispered, but not quiet enough for it to go unnoticed by you. Nevertheless, you pretended to ignore her comment. Perhaps you were odd, and perhaps that was okay. The world of man was not something you were used to. But you were here for a reason. The delay in Maxwell’s response prompted Raquel to say more. “Mr Lord… I don’t think she’s going to leave without seeing you. Would you like me to call the cops?”

“No!” Maxwell practically barked. He turned on the engine of his car and held the phone between his ear and shoulder, reversing out of the driveway. He didn’t know what was going on, it was too early to tell - but Maxwell couldn’t have the police anywhere near Black Gold. There was a good chance the police might be looking for him anyway. There was a good chance Max believed he might even have to go into hiding. “I’m on my way.” Maxwell promised before putting the phone down.

You turned back to Raquel when you heard the phone click back onto the hook. “Well, he’s coming,” she shrugged. “Just take a seat please. He won’t be long.”

You walked over to the centre of the lobby where there was a long circular velveteen sofa with a silver foiled surface. You ran your finger over the material, savouring the soft feeling. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before. You let out a small gasp when you noticed your gladiator sandals had trailed in mud and made a mess of the pristine marble floor. You knew it wouldn’t take much to clean, but you still felt bad.

The lobby of Black Gold Cooperative was large, with pillars similar to what they’d have in the Themysciran palace back home and vases of white roses decorating every corner. You wiped down your skirt and tunic, not wanting to be responsible for any more mess, and sat down on the sofa. You groaned as the velveteen plush engulfed you. You couldn’t help it, Raquel was gone and you were exhausted after spending the day looking for Alistair. You hummed in contentment, unbuckling the leather straps on your shoes and laying down on the sofa, curling up and closing your eyes.

Everything was dull. The sky was grey, dark and rainy clouds casting a cold shadow over your shoulders. This was weird. Normally your dreams would be utter and complete blackness - the inability to see anything, only hear the chaos that surrounded you. Only hear the cries and pleas for help and terror - and his voice. The man you were soughting for. You wondered if upon venturing to the world of man, your premonitions had stopped. But that didn’t make any sense. You were one step closer to finding this mystery man.

In the distance, you saw a group of kids tormenting and teasing another little boy. The image reflected what you had seen earlier at the playpark with Alistair, but it was different children this time. “What are you wearing?” you heard one boy mock as you ran closer. “Look at your shoes! Little Lorenzano can’t even afford new shoes!” a different girl cackled.

Lorenzano. You stopped dead in your footsteps, your eyes widening as you watched the group of kids disband, leaving the little boy with glazed brown eyes and ripped clothes shaking with fear. Lorenzano was the name of the man you were looking for - the man you had to help. Your mother Hestia had helped you learn that, but you had never seen him before. This Lorenzano was just a child. There was no way he could have a son.

You took a deep breath and reached out. “Sweet boy?” you called, taking a cautious step forward. Little Lorenzano didn’t even flinch. “Hello?” you asked again. You got as close as you could to him, walking around in circles and taking in his appearance, but he didn’t even notice you. It was almost like he couldn’t see you.

That’s when you realised you weren’t in a dream. You were in a memory. And suddenly everything made sense. This broken little boy was in fact the same person you were looking for. But now, he was a broken man who was desperately trying to make things right. Desperately trying to turn his life around. You’d seen a fleck of his past and you wondered if he was anything like that now. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you had to find him.

There was no way of telling how long you were asleep for, but when you heard Maxwell Lord’s voice, you couldn’t distinguish it from your dream or reality. It was so familiar, so rich and articulate.

“Jesus Christ,” Maxwell muttered, pacing backwards and forwards before turning back to you and prodding a finger into your bare arm. “Wake up.” he said sternly, his voice a little louder than before. You yawned, bringing your hands up to your eyes and giving them a gentle rub before sitting up and looking at the man.

It was him. The same man you had seen on the television. Only there was something not that right. You couldn’t put your finger on it. You grinned, your eyes gleaming with delight as you stood up and cupped your hands around his face, squeezing his cheeks and getting as close as you could. You touched him and maneuvered his body in different ways, lifting his arms up and brushing down his shoulders. He was broader than any Amazonian woman, and that said a lot. Surprisingly, Maxwell became putty in your grip. He would’ve never have expected it, but he just let you mould him and sculpt him in any which way you pleased. You traced his skin with your fingers, taking in every detail. It was certainly the man from the television - but this version of Maxwell Lord looked more tired and disheveled. His hair wasn’t perfectly styled and he wasn’t fitted into a perfectly pressed suit. But he was still just as remarkable and there was something about his presence that simply took your breath away.

He could say the same about you, too. He was completely stunned by you. Your beauty was incomparable to anyone else he’d ever seen. You almost looked out of this world. He was quick to shrug off his fascination with you, boiling it down to the fact you were covered in dirt and dressed in the strangest costume. He had more important things to worry about… like Alistair and whatever was in that damn envelope Theodore had given him.

“You’re a man,” you whispered in disbelief.

“I- what?” Maxwell asked, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“A real man,” you gasped, running your fingers through his dark blonde hair. Maxwell had to push back a longing groan, as your touch went straight to his semi-hard and already throbbing manhood. He gulped, diverting his gaze from your beautiful eyes.

“Do I- do I not look like a real man?” he asked curiously, ignoring the shudder that felt like it was swallowing him whole.

“Themyscrian depictions of man illustrate a strong, tall, muscular fellow who carries a sword and shield,” You explained, biting your lip and placing the palm of your hand over his chest. You could feel his beating heart under your touch and it almost took your breath away. You dragged your hand down to the curve of his tummy and Maxwell felt his cheeks heat up with insecurity. He never let anyone touch him like this. “They were naked too.”

Maxwell practically choked on his own tongue. That comment alone was enough to get him to step back and raise his hands up defensively.

“Well princess, I won’t be getting naked for you anytime soon, that’s for sure.” He chuckled nervously.

You smiled. “Princess? No no, I’m not a princess,” you giggled before introducing yourself. “I’m the goddess of home and hearth.”

Maxwell gulped before bursting into a fit of laughter. He looked around the office lobby, his movements quick and stressed. “Right, where’s the camera?”

“The- the camera?” you asked, confused.

“Is this for TV? Come on, tell me quickly. It’s a practical joke… right? You’re here, in my office, covered in dirt and in the most ridiculous clothes I’ve ever seen. And you say all these weird words like Themysciran - whatever that means, and you’re telling me you’re the goddess of home and… hearth?” he said almost quizzically. “You’re the crazy woman who stole Alistair away from me at the playpark earlier.”

So Raquel was right. He really was Alistair’s father. “Hey!” you frowned at his accusations. You hadn’t lied to him once. “You weren’t where Alistair left you. You disappeared and I was helping him find you!” you shot back, feeling an anger bubble inside of you.

“I don’t know where you come from princess, but here in America, you don’t just go round stealing people’s kids. That’s like, a federal offence.” Maxwell shouted, wiggling his finger in the air. “Jesus, where do you come from?”

You defensively crossed your arms over your chest, his yelling making you feel vulnerable. You could tell that he was clearly already under a lot of stress but he had no reason to take it out on you. “Themyscira.” you told him calmly.

He scrunched up his face in disdain. "There it is again. Them-a-what-now?"

"Themyscira." you said, this time making conscious effort to say it slower and clearer.

"With all due respect darling, I've travelled the world. I've been to many different places. I spent my adolescence studying a map of the world and never in my life have I heard of such a place." Maxwell shook his head in disbelief.

"I'm not here to prove anything to you, Mr Lord. But I find your attitude towards me to be quite upsetting." you revealed, looking back at the revolving doors you came in. There was a deafening silence that filled the room.

"Why are you here?" Maxwell snapped eventually with a huff. You swallowed as he stalked over to you, his gaze not breaking from you once. There was something primal in his walk. "Why… are you… here?"

He wished he could ignore the distracting erection in his pants. He didn't even know you. You were just a random girl who had come into his office demanding to see him, refusing to leave until he came. You were just a random girl who had got close with him, who had touched his face and dragged your hand down his body. Who… talked about naked men. Truthfully, Maxwell had never been with a woman who was quite like you, but things were starting to make sense for him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he were to just take you up to his private office.

Your throat felt dry and for the first time, you couldn't fathom words. His honeyed brown eyes were now dark and lust blown as he raised his hand to caress your cheek. You didn't even realise the way you subconsciously moved your face further into his hold and a wicked smirk crossed his lips. His hand was large and warm and his touch filled you with a sense of protection you didn't even think you needed. "Oh," Maxwell chuckled darkly. "I know what you want from me."

"You do?" you asked timidly, not even realising the hold he had you under. For a second, you'd forgotten why you were even here. You were so taken in by Max. You were feeling things you had never felt in your life for this man who had been haunting your every thought. He was so close to you, his breath fanned over your skin and you felt a sensation erupt between your legs. His presence was intoxicating, and he could say the same about you.

"But I can't," Maxwell shook his head, his gaze falling to your lips before dropping his hand from your face and taking a step back. He cleared his throat and looked away awkwardly, moving his hand down to his crotch trying to hide his arousal from you. "I… I should go."

There was an immediate feeling of guilt that washed over Maxwell. He'd gained reputation in the past for sleeping with women, namely his assistants and secretaries, and not shown them a slither of affection or care. He was a selfless lover and he could get away with it because he was rich, famous and attractive. But now he was none of those things. When he looked at himself in the mirror before heading to the playpark, his own appearance knocked him sick. The stress wrinkles setting in his forehead, the dark circles around his eyes… and he hadn't showered in a week. His hair was a mess and he couldn't even bring himself to check a whiff of his underarms. He didn't know you, but he sure as hell knew you deserved better than a man like him.

You were bright eyed, polite, and curious about the world around you. Not only that, you had demanded to see Maxwell just because you wished to check on his son and make sure he was okay. You had gotten very close to Max and not said a word about his bad hygiene or his tired eyes, instead, you looked at him with hope and admiration. Almost as if you believed that he could become a better man.

"Wait!" you called, reaching your hand out before Maxwell could walk away. "I'm sorry if- I'm sorry if this wasn't a good conversation for you. I've never spoken to a man before."

Maxwell titled his head and quirked an eyebrow. "You intrigue me," he admitted, pursing his lips slightly. His gaze fell from your face to the circle of rope attached to your belt. It didn't take long before he realised what it was— but no, it couldn't be. "What is that?" Maxwell asked, pointing at the rope as fear dripped from his tongue. He even took a few steps back.

You unravelled the rope and held it out for him to see. "This is the lasso of Hestia, it was my mother's. She gave it to me before I left for the world of man. Only two were made and this— this is the last one," you smiled a tearful smile at the memory of your mother. Diana had taken the other lasso, as well as the sword of Athena, back in 1918. "My mother Hestia is the goddess of Truth. And the lasso of Hestia compels any individual it uses to see the truth, or speak it," There was no telling what the expression on Maxwell's face showed. You frowned. "You still don't believe me, do you?"

The lasso had initiated a trauma response in Maxwell as you turned it on. He watched it glow yellow, the same yellow that Diana's lasso had glowed when she wrapped it around his ankle in the island bunker. He remembered her words; "See the truth." and his heart sank into the depths of his chest. That's when he saw Alistair.

Maxwell had always thought Diana Prince was strange. Ever since she told him she didn't own a TV— because who in the 1980s didn't own a TV? And who would deny a free 19 inch TV from Sears? But when she had followed him to Cairo with her pilot boyfriend and caused nothing but chaos in her red, blue and gold superhero outfit, he knew she was special. That she possessed powers. This was later reaffirmed in The White House, and then in the bunker as Maxwell tried to plot world domination and grant wishes to every citizen.

He looked at you behind all the mud and dirt, and he looked into your eyes. Could it be true? Could you be telling the truth? What if you were like Diana? Would he really want to be around someone like you?

Maxwell took a huff of air and wrapped the lasso around his wrist. You watched him, letting him do so. "Prove it." Max swallowed the lump in his throat that he hadn't even realised was there. You looked at him with hesitancy before nodding your head. If this worked, he has no reason not to believe you. A magical lasso… and it wasn't the first he had seen.

"What do you wish to see?" you asked Maxwell, your voice quiet. You didn't detach your gaze from his eyes once.

"Do you see what I see?" He asked, and you nodded your head in affirmation. Maxwell thought for a second, before remembering you had come all this way to Black Gold Cooperative just to see Alistair. At first, there was something deeply unsettling about it… but your presence made Maxwell feel safe. "Show me my son."

You closed your eyes and Maxwell followed your actions, and it wasn't long before your vision was clouded by the image of Alistair in his bedroom at Julianna and Theodore's house. Sitting at a desk, he was humming a song. Maxwell couldn't help but smile, recognising the song from the video game Alistair played with him earlier in the day. With an array of colourful crayons, he intricately sketched a drawing of a man with messy yellow hair and a tie, holding the hand of a smaller boy with black hair holding a teddy bear. He labelled the drawing ‘me and daddy’.

"Alistair sweetheart," Julianna called, peeking her head through the door that stood slightly ajar. "Dinner is ready," Alistair didn't look up once, continuing to rub pink crayon into his paper. "What are you drawing there?" Julianna asked, slipping into her son's bedroom and peering over his shoulder and the drawing.

"Me and daddy," Alistair mumbled, only half listening. He was too busy concentrating on adding the purple detailing on his daddy's socks.

"Oh sweetie, I told you that maybe, sometime, you could draw yourself and Theodore? You know, since he's your father too. He does so much for you Alistair, he takes you out to the movies, takes you to your piano lessons… he's a good guy," Julianna smiled, ruffling her son's hair. She pressed her finger into the yellow haired stick man wearing purple socks. "He's not a good guy."

Alistair furrowed his eyebrows, dropping the crayon to the paper and turning to face his mother. "My daddy is my hero." Alistair told his mother, his brown eyes wide and full of love.

Julianna didn't say a word. She stiffened up, standing tall and glared at her son's drawing. Her stare was so intense, you wondered if she was about to eject lasers from her eyes and set the paper on fire.

"Go eat your dinner." She finally said coldly, her words dripping with malice before barging out Alistair's bedroom.

The lasso of truth unravelled itself from Maxwell's wrist and you curled it back into your holster, clipping it in place on your belt. You looked up and noticed the tears that were pricking Maxwell's eyes.

"You- you probably shouldn't have seen all of that," Maxwell admitted, his voice croaking slightly as he tried to hold himself back from becoming a sobbing mess. "I'm not a hero."

You reached out and took the hand of the big-name businessman who was standing before you on the verge of tears. His hand was big, cold, and his fingers were calloused. You took him in both of your hands and rubbed soothing circles into his skin, desperately trying to provide him with warmth and comfort. His glazed brown eyes looked up at you with bewilderment as he wondered why you were being so nice to him. He was a monster, he deserved every bad consequence that would be coming for him. And yet, you treat him like a human. Even at the height of his career when he lived in riches and luxury, nobody had treated him with the politeness and love you were currently giving him — and you were a stranger. A stranger who was covered in mud with a magic lasso.

"Maybe you are a hero."

—-—-—

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[redrose-arrow]

Do you think Royal Ranger is not as good as his other books? I know a lot of people don't like Madelyn.

I honestly don’t think the Royal Ranger is a weak link in the series. I am aware that a lot of people don’t like Madelyn, and I think that’s fair and understandable, even if I don’t agree. I actually have another post up about that, so go check that out if you want to know more about why I like Madelyn and why I think many other fans do not!

In regards to the strength of the Royal Ranger itself - personally, it’s as high up there in my personal ranking as some of my other all time favourites. I’ll explain why in a bit.

For starters - I think a lot has to do with expectation management: we never would have gotten the stories we wanted. Romantic relationships - and even emotions, in some ways - don’t even reach the podium in terms of the series’ focus. I think, since I never really expected to read a book in which Will and Alyss’ relationship would be a focus, I also wasn’t that disappointed not to get that. More on that later.

Obviously, there’s the discourse surrounding Maddie. If you don’t like her, it’s already challenging to convince you to like her books. I have another long post about this, in case you’re curious :). In any case - I love her.

What I also loved was Will’s character development. Now, this is a tricky point, because I know a lot of fans do not approve of how Will’s depression was handled. Let me preface my own point by saying this: I understand. I understand that the harsh pull-back to reality is not something that works for everyone and I can understand that many fans would have liked to see something else. But here’s the thing: it works for some. It worked for a close friend of mine. It worked for me. Throughout the series, we always see Will as the hero. Even when he’s addicted to warmweed, he recovers from that quickly (ignoring the trauma is another point unrelated to this one). He almost dies - more than once - but he’s always quickly back on his feet. The Royal Ranger is the first (and so far only) book in the series that explores a different side of his character. His darker side. The side that’s hurting, that’s uncaring about anyone, least of all himself. The side that could kill him in more ways than one. The side that he needs to be saved from. Seeing that side of him shocked me, and I love the book for it. Especially to see his growth back to happiness. He laughs again, for the first time, but when he’s reminded of Gilan and Jenny’s relationship he’s sad and a little jealous. He has to physically restrain himself when he finds out he’s hunting Ruhl, but he’s also joking around with Maddie when they’re coming up with their plan. And then there’s the crying, and we read that the tears are for Alyss, finally, but they’re also for Maddie. And for him - most of all, for him. That growth was so relatable for me, that sentence so close to me, I loved it so much, I cannot help but love the entire book for it.

But. Alyss had to die. Believe me when I say that that was a shocker for me too. In my post about why I like Maddie I mentioned that I think many dislike Maddie because she’s Alyss’ replacement, and I want to include that here as well. Yes, Maddie’s pretty much a replacement for Alyss. And something in me hates it, to excuse a male author for killing off one female character to introduce another, and yet again, I cannot help but do so. In this book, Maddie has two roles: one, to be a female hero, and two, to help Will’s character development. There’s little for me to say about the first point, so let’s delve into the second. Given the fact that the Royal Ranger was initially the finale for the series as a whole, we can assume that Will’s character development (that I mentioned earlier), was the most important aspect of the book. So, his dark side needed to be brought out. If Halt would’ve died, Will would’ve been heartbroken and he might’ve gone a little crazy too, but his mentor was old, and so the impact would’ve been different. Halt getting murdered was just too unrealistic, which leaves a semi-natural death, and that’s just not interesting for this series to explore. (Not to mention that that would’ve truly made the fandom riot.) The death of Horace or Cassandra would’ve disrupted the Royal Family too much, and it would’ve required much more of a politics focus than the series likes to delve into. That leaves us with Alyss as the only viable, realistic, and simply useful character death. Yes, yes, YES, I would’ve loved for both Alyss and Will to mentor Maddie, I think she could’ve learned a lot from them together. But that situation wouldn’t have made good on Maddie’s second role. Add to this that a Will-and-Alyss relationship never would’ve been explored a lot anyhow, and her death can be seen in a different light. Hence, I don’t very much mind her being killed off as much as others (but I am still heartbroken about it). Especially since in the future books, Maddie has really come into her role as a character of her own, and since her second role then isn’t so important anymore, she doesn’t really feel as a replacement anymore.

Now that we’re on the topic of death, here’s a quick detour to Crowley’s. Yes, I would’ve loved to see more of Halt’s grieving, but again, that’s not something the series pays particular attention to in general. It would’ve been a little too Halt-focused book and honestly? Wouldn’t have really added something to the plot. So we have to make do with a short sentence that mentions Halt finding comfort in the fact that Crowley died happily. (Also, why do y’all want Crowley to have been murdered so bad?? The man was ancien, let him rest in peace after a natural death with a smile on his face.)

Then there’s the matter of Cassandra and Horace’s parenting. Again, something that not everyone approves of, and rightly so. Yeah, maybe disinheriting your daughter is not the way to go. I agree. I also think it’s a very interesting “mistake”, because it is something that happened in medieval times. Furthermore, Cassandra takes after her father and Horace admits to being a bit sexist. It’s interesting, especially when you see how much Horace and Cassandra grow as parents throughout the Royal Ranger books. Fairly, the fact that Horace and Cassandra admit to not being the best parents makes me readily excuse their actions, but I cannot help it (and, I have loads of headcanons about the Royal Family that make me love them more and more).

Another thing about the Royal Ranger that tends to be disliked is the “repetition” - by which I mean Will turning in Halt 2.0 (in more ways than one). Again, there’s a few reasons why I don’t mind, and even love it. One - why wouldn’t Will be like Halt? Everyone loves their father-son relationship, and there’s more than one son I’ve seen turn into their dad in real life. Two - Will’s confronted with acting like Halt by Jenny. He tells her he just tries to copy his mentor, and she shoots right back saying how much he always complained about that. Yes, Will’s a lot like Halt, but it’s fully backed up and admitted by the series - also when it’s said that Will was barely considered as Commandant because, like Halt, he tends to bend the rules a little too much, and again in Duel at Araluen, when Duncan expresses his faith in his granddaughter partially because Will’s her mentor and Halt was his. Third - I like the parallel between Halt and Will’s relation-/apprenticeship and the one between Will and Maddie. Again, it makes sense for Will to copy Halt in a lot of things (Gorlog knows I copied a bunch of my teachers when I was standing in front of a class). But here’s the thing - Will and Maddie already know each other. They’re close. They’re almost literally family. It’s a very interesting balance that I loved to see in the Royal Ranger 1, and again in book 4. I’m really hoping for it to be explored even further in book 5.

All in all, I really like the compromise of the Royal Ranger. We got another apprenticeship, without the repetition of Halt being the mentor. It’s in the future, so we get a glimpse into the later lives of our favourite characters, but the fact that there’s 15 years unaccounted for leaves enough to the imagination. We have a new main character, but the original characters play important and recognised roles. For me, that means the Royal Ranger is many of the things I love about the original series, but it’s also fresh and new and therefore a valuable addition. Getting back to a point I made earlier: it’s an addition to the series because it is a little different and a little the same. Again, if the series would’ve ended with the Lost Stories, that would’ve been perfect. But if it would’ve continued the way a lot of fans wanted it to (honestly me included, and again, a very understandable point) the series would’ve become extremely repetitive (something that it is risking now as well, I’ll admit, but it’s taken a few more books). So, to me, the Royal Ranger seems like a fair compromise between continuing the series and keeping it intact!

Again, a bit of a longer answer, sorry anon! Also, I want to stress again that no one forces you to love the Royal Ranger - least of all me. If you want to pretend none of that happened - be my guest (even I love doing that every now and then). But I hope to have shown you why I also celebrate its existence!

[develation]

A Lifeguard's preach- please read

Okay, hi, welcome to my Ted talk. So surprise for some of you but I work as a lifeguard, and I have some things to say about my experience for the 2 years I've worked as one.

A lot of people have decided it's okay to crap on first responders lately, which is a subject I will lightly touch on. But pool lifeguards have been under-appreciated for a very long time. The pool I work at is like a mini-waterpark. We have slides, basketball hoops, a water playground, a lazy river (with tubes), an obstacle course, and concessions. Were not just your neighborhood pool, which means there are more dangers to look out for. Because you can tell yourself that things never happen, but that's a lie. Every day, things always happen.

So today I was walking my stand (grazing stands there called because you walk back and forth for 20 mins straight and then move to the next stand to do it all over again for another 20 mins. repeat that process for 2 hours on lazy river rotation). And this lady decided to sit right in the middle of where I'm walking. Now in lifeguarding, we have to keep a 10/20, which means 10 seconds to see someone and 20 seconds to get to them. And the zone I'm on is SCS which is the little kid playground, y'know, with TODDLERS AND BABIES EVERYWHERE. So in order to properly scan my zone and make sure none of these babies start choking on water, I ask her to move. And she looks at me and goes, "well you should have a sign there that says that." She moves, but did this lady seriously tell me that we should have a sign that says- "Please don't sit in the Lifeguards way. They are trying to make sure you and your child don't die." Like what?!

It's not just her, I alone have been disrespected so much on this job, it's stupid. I've had moms tell me to LEAVE MY ZONE and go get their kid because it will be my fault if they drown when the mother herself is on the other side of the lazy river. I've saved a boy and the mother said, "He was fine. I'm not filling out the paperwork, I just want to enjoy my last ten minutes here." Like, YOUR FUCKING WELCOME.

I am so sick of this. Do people don't even know the amount of training we do just to even work? I have at least 200 hours of training, and I don't even work the full year's cuz of school. It's not just CPR y'know? I know how to and train to handle Rescue-Breathing, seizures, chest compressions (yes, that is different from CRP), allergic reactions, heat stroke, burns, chemical burns (mostly for employees because we work with that stuff), Heimlich, Spinals (head, neck, and back injuries), eye trauma, and more. I, WE, may be no police officer or EMT, but we know our shit.

For working in general, while you're sitting in that cool water enjoying life. Where sitting there (or even worse, walking) in 2-hour rotations sweating our asses off. You can talk about those umbrellas we get on sitting stands all day BUT THEY DON'T DO CRAP. Because the sun MOVES in the sky. And most shifts are from 10:45 to 6:30, open to close. I have only worked 3 shifts that haven't been 7 or 8 hours long.

"What about lunch breaks?" well guess what, we don't get one! Every 2 hours we get 17 min breaks (15 guards on stand and 3 in break room at all times, that's how our rotation works) that could be interrupted at any moment because people don't drown on a schedule. My water bottle is broken (it leaks) from how many times I've thrown that thing when a long whistle goes off.

Just imagine, you're sitting there eating your well-deserved sandwich, slipping some water from your water bottle, chatting it up with the other guards. And then out of fucking nowhere- BRRRRRRRRRRRRR- *Hi this is adrenaline, I'm gonna turn all the way up now* "OH SHIT SOMEONE'S DROWNING FUCK FUCK FUCK-." And now you, your boss, and other 2 break guards are sprinting full speed across the pool deck trying not to trip over your own equipment. With your food and water bottle forgotten on the concrete of the guard-room floor. [It was a very sad day. I had ordered Jimmy Johns just for that...]

I have saved 8 people, all of them children. And every day, there are at least 2 saves, which means someone is drowning and a lifeguard has to jump in for them. Realistically though? There have been too many days for me to count where there were 8 or if not more saves. People take pool safety for granted, there fucking idiots who think that just because they're tall enough to go down the slide they can swim in the 12-foot deep catch pool. They think that they can go in the lazy river without a tube. Or that they don't need a lifejacket. Parents are idiots, who don't watch their children. In one of my saves, I watched a kid disappear underwater in front of me. One second they were above water and the next, just gone. It's not like the movies guys, there's no screaming or splashing. There's the weird doggy paddle, and then they stop making distance and are weirdly treading, and then they're gone. And then you have to pick out from the kids who are floating with their backs on the surface, the kids who pretend to drown for fun, and the adults who think it's okay to "test" the lifeguards.

Just today, within the first 20 mins of open we have a lady pass out. There's something horrifying about holding someone's limp body in your hands and them not waking up. Last year we had a lifeguard pass out from the heat on the lazy river. Just flop straight onto the pavement. In years past we had a woman have a heart attack on the deck. We kept her alive until EMS arrived but she died in the hospital 3 days later. There was another lady who busted her knee open and bled everywhere. Stuff always happens.

I make $10.86 an hour to save people's lives and get shit on while doing it. It's not everybody, I meet those parents who say, "Don't worry, I'll yell at them." Those kids whole actually put their tubes back and put back the tubes that everybody left right next to the corral. That one dude who filled up my water bottle with his water because, "I looked like I was melting and needed something good today". Those girls who say I'm pretty despite all my scaring and me having short hair (yes I have gotten judged for being a girl and having short hair). But most of the time, we are ignored and looked down upon.

Trust me, we don't mind small talk. Or making jokes, telling stories. We just want to be appreciated. And I just don't feel that most of the time. My bosses have been amazing to me, and they are one of the only reasons I come to work with a smile on my face. But above all that, I just want to fulfill the childhood-old dream of being a hero. Of saving a life. I know I'm not quite suited out for firefighting or EMT's or policing.

But I'm still doing it. And I would like for others to just see me, instead of yelling at me for saving their child's life.

[fountainpenguin]

Question Meme: (Ignore this if you don't want to answer all these....) 1, 2, 3, 28, 31, 33, 40 (sorry i couldn't pick one)

40 Questions For ‘Fic Writers Meme

#1 - Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Gradual character development spread across a piece with deepened, believable worldbuilding. You know, I often say I’m not into romance, but here’s the thing: A nice long, serious slow burn does a person good. I’ll happily accept romance if an author can really get me into the minds of the characters and make me want their relationship to develop as much as the characters do.

It’s shallow romance that rubs me the wrong way. Give me two characters who honestly, truly care about each other to the point where they’ll sacrifice something they love, or even be willing to let each other ago if it means the one they love will be happy. I love that. But if you’ve got one character who will pitch a fit rather than let their love be happy with someone else, you’re really working uphill with me.

Worldbuilding doesn’t have to be as deep and complex as my ‘fics tend to get, but I do love to see how different authors expand the same world in different ways. I’m not a big fan of horror and for some reason I just can’t get into sci-fi. I enjoy fantasy and biology.

Really, I love anything that doesn’t contradict canon. AUs? Eh, sometimes, but they’re not my favorite. I like behind-the-scenes, between-the-lines, believable futures, and backstory pieces with some nice worldbuilding. And some complex characters who don’t always make the best choices and then have to suffer the consequences for their actions. Yes. ‘Fics like those are very nice.

#2 - Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

A queerplatonic relationship that’s happy, healthy, and long-lasting. You would think I would let my aro/ace children be happy, but alas, ‘tis not to be! You could say I like to squash zucchinis. I am self-projecting my own insecurities. I made Bennett a horrible person to show the “worst possible relationship with an aro/ace who wants a sexless marriage” so that the hopes and dreams of the other aro/ace characters look more reasonable by comparison. I do that a lot.

Okay, I lied. I can think of six “official” queerplatonic relationships we will see in my FOP works, and one of them actually does have a happy ending. I mean, probably. I haven’t written it yet, so who knows?

Spoiler alert: Mario and Peach are the OTQP and I’m going to milk it. What can I say? I call ‘em like I see ‘em and canon literally gave us a plumber who’ll collect 120 Power Stars in return for cake, and a princess who turned down his hand in marriage after all the times he’s rescued her, but adores him anyway.

#3 - Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole?

“We pretend to hate each other but secretly we’re both in love and will one day in the heat of the moment spontaneously confess our romantic feelings and form a mutual, caring relationship without any further character development.”

I don’t know if it’s because I’m a very serious, honest, straightforward person (being INTJ and all), or if it’s because I’m asexual, or if it’s a combination of both (or neither), but I can’t stand huge plots about people refusing to admit that they like someone. Love has always been a logical thing to me. I was sixteen before I found out sexual attraction was a real thing. I don’t really understand it, but I guess it’s possible to have physical feelings for someone even if you don’t logically want to? And you can’t stop yourself or turn it off? I honestly don’t know how that works, which is why the “I wish I wasn’t physically attracted to you” trope has infuriated me since childhood. I just didn’t get it.

Even before I realized I was asexual, I would have discussions with my mom about how if I ever had a crush, I would openly admit this to my friends if they asked. I wouldn’t protest or deny, as I see so many media characters do. Then it turned out I’m incapable of feeling physical attraction and I get friendship squishes instead of romantic crushes, so that happened.

As a general rule of thumb, you should trust the characters I write if they say they aren’t attracted to someone. If they like someone, they’ll tell you so. If they don’t, they’ll tell you that too. And if they’re confused, then it will be very clear that they’re confused. No means no. I’m very strict about that. Don’t read into it looking for signs that they’re being secretive even to the reader. They are not. I emotionally cannot bring myself to do that.

#28 - Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Oooh. I’m going to say that Shaddic takes the cake on this one. If you’re a Total Drama fan, or even if you’re not, then “Daddy’s Characters” will break you deliciously like very few fanfics will. “Before and After” is just a step behind it. The emotion captured by these ‘fics is incredible, and I highly, highly recommend them if you’re into evil villains who are undeniably and yet realistically cruel. Both ‘fics revolve around Mike and his multiple personalities (“Daddy’s Characters” revolving around adult Mike and Zoey, married with a daughter and with twins on the way, coping with something horrid that lands a distraught Mike in prison, and “Before and After” being the trauma-filled childhood backstory ‘fic). 

Shaddic characterized everyone perfectly. So horribly, painfully well. Ugggh, I love it. My gallery has Identity Theft on the way, which will revolve around Foop and Hiccup and some multiple personality trauma, but it won’t be as beautiful as Shaddic’s work. They’re honestly worth a read if you ever have the time one day, even if you aren’t a Total Drama fan. You really don’t need to know the show to enjoy them. And enjoy them (and suffer) you will. In all my years, I’ve never seen an evil villain portrayed so… villainously. Love it.

I’m also a fan of SelanPike- partially for sentimental reasons, I suppose. I remember reading her Mario ‘fics over and over eight years ago, and I still read them today on a regular basis. Crazy how time flies. They’re just ones that I love going back to. As most of you know, I tend to fall in love with background characters. Fawful, Kamek, and Doopliss fit those qualifications- and coincidentally, those three are Selan’s favorites too! Technically, it’s because of her that the 130 Prompts project came to be. I always loved her 100 one-shot challenge, and that’s sort of how I eventually decided to write my own.

I really admire Selan for her characterizations. Her Kamek portrayal is my all-time favorite. So is her Fawful, her Doopliss, her Bowser, her Bowser Jr, her E. Gadd… she’s just a master of character. Even her freaking Jojora is spot-on. I mean, talk about background characters, am I right? Ha. Her writing is excellent and she has some fun plots. I always enjoyed drinking up her fanart and reading her comics on her deviantArt too. Still do. She has such a fun, bouncy art style. Her 8-page comic about Fawful attending school in the Mushroom Kingdom after Kamek hits him with the truant officer threat gets me every time.

I highly recommend “Until Tomorrow” (Her post-“Superstar Saga” ‘fic about Kamek and Fawful attempting to revive Cackletta so Kamek can kick her butt in a magic fight and Fawful can get the mother figure he refuses to call his mother figure back), and her famous ‘fic “On My Own” (about Fawful coping with Cackletta’s death and eventually working his way up the Koopa Kingdom social ladder). “Fragmented Spectrum” is a wonderful, tense, horror-ish ‘fic as well, with my absolute favorite Bowser Jr. portrayal. Plus, I love the rivalry between Kamek and Fawful seen in “F.S.” with Fawful trying to draw magic circles that he decided must be 100% perfect to count as circles, and Kamek not even knowing how to deal with him and his technology brain. Beautiful. 

Check out the rest of her gallery too. Her two FFN fandoms are Mario and Invader Zim. She isn’t active there anymore, but her ‘fics are worth the read. I will say that I’m not a fan of her ‘fic “Everything You Ever” because I feel that Cackletta was way too sweet and nice for an evil villain in that one. But then again, I haven’t read it in years, so who knows. I’m not crazy about Selan’s Peach portrayal either, but that’s where my third recommendation comes in.

GuardianM1234 is a recent discovery of mine, and she does not disappoint. I’m a big fan of her ongoing ‘fic “Smoke” (which updates twice a month right now and is nearing its climax). It’s basically the story of Peach and Bowser growing up, and the development of their relationship from being fairly friendly as children to their complex relationship as adults. I’ve never seen Peach portrayed so perfectly, and I adore her. Never thought I would, but I do. Guardian also has a very unique take on Mario that’ll really make you squirm.

I love Guardian’s writing because she pits characters in emotionally-difficult situations and lets them learn and grow. They make bad choices, but she demonizes no one. Not even Bowser. Plus, Bowser has a little sideplot with Clawdia going on (the canon mother of the Koopalings if you know your deep hidden lore, though since the Koopalings were recently ruled “not Bowser’s children” by Nintendo’s “official” canon, I don’t know if she will be their mother in “Smoke” or where Guardian is taking this ‘fic). Basically, what I’m saying is, Clawdia and Bowser roastfest. Be there. They crack me up. And Guardian’s TOADSWORTH is perfection. Please give that old boy his gossip.

Plus, Daisy takes Bowser shopping for wedding dresses once and he bribes her with a six-pack of soda. Nice, short chapters with a few pleasant hints of worldbuilding slipped in, and a LOT of character. Guardian is still somewhat new to fanfiction, but she’s very sweet and she would adore some reviews if you do read her work. If you love her stuff, give her a shout-out! She’s great.

#31 - Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

I fall halfway between this one. The answer is, sort of both! For my main fandoms, I have one rule: I don’t contradict canon, unless canon contradicted itself and I was forced to pick a side. Origin gets so deep into biology and Knots into culture that they feel more like original works than fanfics sometimes, because I’ll flesh things out as much as I want to. So that’s sort of a liberty I take with canon. But I never contradict canon if I don’t have to. I always comply.

It’s a puzzle. I love connecting dots behind the scenes. I love forcing everything that’s canon to be canon, even if it looks like it contradicted itself. If I can solve a plot hole, I try to. I will make ridiculous backbends to fit colorful Anti-Fairy eyes, Crocker’s ebb and flow of wealth, Miss Idaho’s “rare genetic condition that prevents her from aging,” Mary Alice Doombringer’s random abilities, and Girlfriend the cat’s sentience into Riddleverse canon, and I’ll love every second of it. I only cut a piece of canon out if I feel like I absolutely have to. It’s fun.

I can definitely enjoy reading ‘fics that stray from canon, and might even write them on occasion. But the reason why I write fanfics is because I loved the canon and I want to see it expanded, not taken away. I’d like to publish my original works someday, so if I’m not sticking close to source material, why would I write a fanfic that I could publish as an original work instead? 

For the same reasons, I’d rather read a fanfic that expands on canon than eliminates it. When I fall in love with something, I fall in love with its world. I like ‘fics that blend worldbuilding aspects in with the plot they’re writing, even if it’s a short one-shot. I don’t love reading something that feels like its writer just inserted the names of popular characters into their otherwise original work so that people would read it. I want to have the little details and feel convinced that these are the characters (and the world) that I love. Personal preference.

In some cases, I default to realism over canon, such as by giving Cosmo the ability to recognize faces. In my psychology classes, I’ve learned that sometimes during investigations, police will show pictures to people and ask them to select the face that matches the one they were shown earlier. People pretending to be mentally handicapped in some way will often get the answers wrong on purpose in an attempt to maintain their facade, while those who are actually mentally handicapped will get them right. Just a nitpicky thing I do.

So I often favor realism over canon in certain ways, even if it possibly contradicts canon a bit. I respect canon and try to stay true to it as much as possible because I enjoy doing so, but I don’t consider myself 100% beholden to it, especially considering how many different contributors there can be to a project over the years. I do my best, but enjoying what I write comes first.

#33 - How do you feel about crack?

I can enjoy the occasional way-out-there thing, but I prefer serious stories in general.

#40 - Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one).

Well, you didn’t give me a ‘fic you wanted to see an alternate ending to, but I do have a few short pieces I can share. You see, the “That Was Then” Prompt (the Jay Rhoswen and his studies about Anti-Fairies one) wasn’t supposed to end the way it did. Here is how it was meant to go:

Rhoswen scooted back hand over hand along the counter, his feet skittering in the vapor. What in the name of dust was he doing? He shouldn’t be looking at his wife’s counterpart more than at his wife! He shouldn’t be having these sorts of thoughts at all!

Anti-Shylinda placed her palms to his cheeks and gazed into his eyes. “No talk,” she whispered, and when she leaned forward, those burning lips closed over his.

As for whether that Seelie Courter chose to kiss the anti-fairy back once she’d started to draw away? Well… You ought to look to the term “Rhoswen syndrome” to answer that.

I didn’t like the idea of Anti-Shylinda being the one to make moves on Jay, so I scrapped it. Not only that, but the whole piece is written as snippets from Rhoswen’s journal now, so the voice here no longer fit the narrative.

At the end of the first chapter of Frayed Knots, “String Theory”, Anti-Cosmo cuts off the tips of his ears. I was originally going to expand the scene as follows:

Blood spattered the floor. With a hiss through my teeth, I withdrew the knife and dabbed the blood up with my sleeve. The stone might stain.

Recalculating, I dragged my stool over to the sink. The angle was awkward, but at least my blood would wash easily away. There, I slit off the tip of my ear, cutting carefully around my first canetis ring. Then I mirrored the action on the other side. Both rings bounced across the stone with a clink, click, clatter.

I uncurled my tongue and set the knife aside. Then I took the severed tips of my ears and held them to my head again. It took three agonizing minutes, but the smoke that filled my veins stretched out and wound around my fingers. It absorbed my ears and pressed them into place again. Full, soft, and whole. I fingered the gashes mother’s piercing clamp had left behind. Apparently, even regeneration couldn’t heal injuries left by an unenchanted tool. Useful information to know.

The canetis rings disappeared into my pocket. Then I got up and pushed open the window. I took a running start, dove out, and unfurled my wings.

However, I kind of liked leaving the chapter on the cliffhanger of “Oh my gosh, what did he just do to himself???” I also couldn’t include a sink in the castle in a time period when there is no indoor plumbing. Then I decided that I would rather give Anti-Cosmo permanent gashes in his ears he had caused himself, rather than ones caused by his mother, to always remind him (and everyone around him) of that day he stood against Anti-Fairy tradition. Kind of a shame to delete the scene since I like how it gave us information about smoke and Anti-Fairy healing right from the start. I might recycle it later.

Actually, if we’re talking about the original version of Knots, everything was supposed to be different than what it was. Here is another deleted scene that was originally planned to be the opening scene of Knots:

“Mum, I’m nine and a half minutes old. I’m not a baby anymore. Come on, please? You let Anti-Robin leave home to get his wand when he was only three!”

“You weren’t even born yet. How can you possibly know that?”

“He told me about thirty seconds ago, right before you came in here.” I grabbed my mother’s skirt in two tiny fists. “Mum, I’m going to be the only pup in the colony without a wand. What about our image?”

She wavered visibly, running her thumb along her staff. “Well…”

Father peered over his spectacles and frowned. “Now, wait just a minute here, Anti-Florensa. He’s just a pup. You can’t send him into the woods to gather the materials for his first wand all by himself.”

“But it has always been our family’s tradition,” she sniffed. “It’s not as though he’ll die. On the contrary, I’m more concerned about him killing valuable plants with his acid. Anti-Cosmo, you’re drooling again.”

I wiped my mouth. “Sorry, Mum.”

I really loved the “I’m nine and a half minutes old- I’m not a baby anymore!” idea, especially since there aren’t many times when you’ll have the chance to use it. As you can see, Frayed Knots was going to begin with baby Anti-Cosmo leaving his manor home alone to obtain his first wand. 

But overall, in the end, I decided that it was more important to show the importance of smoke in Anti-Fairy culture, and we ended up with the scene we have now. Also, I really wanted Anti-Cosmo to grow up never knowing who his father was until several years after Anti-Robin had died, which meant I had to scrap or replace this scene in some way anyway.

The “Mama’s Boy” Prompt was actually written with the manor idea in mind, and I believe Anti-Florensa even uses the word “manor” in it. I added an author’s note to that piece several months ago mentioning that “Mama’s Boy” is semi-canon for now until Frayed Knots is finalized. A lot has changed.

Some other deleted scenes from the early plans of “Anti-Cosmo lives with his family in a manor near the Castle, and they are nobles but not royalty” include:

“I got something for you, kiddo.” Anti-Robin flicked an aluminum medal across the table that read #2 Son. I grinned.

“This is for me? Thanks! I love it!”

He tilted down his glasses. “You say, ‘Thank you, Father, for this generous gift.’”

I repeated the words, and he tousled my hair. “Now, go do second son things.”

“Yes, sir! I will! Thank you, Father!” With the medal swinging from my neck, I trotted happily off.

and

I clung to the frame of his office door, beating my wings to keep myself from staggering forward. I knew better than to cross the threshold, even though there was nothing I wanted more in the universe right then than to throw my arms around his waist and squeeze him in a hug. The bruise Mother had left on my arm hurt even more now than it did in the kitchen, somehow. My eyes slid back and forth across his desk.

“Where are you going?”

Anti-Robin calmly placed another folded shirt inside the suitcase. “Back to Anti-Scarlett’s.”

“With your other family?” I asked. “With her kids, Anti-Xavier and Anti-Tom?”

“Yes.”

“Why can’t I come with you? I want to meet them.”

“It’s a dad thing.” He closed the suitcase with two clicks and turned around. His eyes were steely calm, his frown very firm. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

and

“ELEANOR!”

Anti-Robin and I grabbed our mouths and looked at each other, gaping with our eyes. Mother was over 150,000 years old. Her real name wasn’t supposed to be said out loud.

Father slammed a newspaper on the table, then stepped back and crossed his arms. “Might I inquire what the meaning of this is, ‘dear’?”

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked, not looking up from the end of her staff. She studied its base, then ran her polish rag across it again.

“Anti-Bryndin had the green fairy locked up, and I know you’re behind it.”

So, don’t feel too sad that Anti-Cosmo grows up without a dad in my works! It wouldn’t have been the best relationship anyway. Besides that, now that I’ve had time to think about it, this Anti-Robin portrayal isn’t that far off Ambrosine, and I’d rather H.P. and Anti-Cosmo had fathers with very different personalities.

If you have a really sharp memory, you may possibly remember seeing that medal around Anti-Cosmo’s neck when I drew my late-night FOP/Moana doodle dump that one time.

I also have oodles of scenes deleted from Anti-Cosmo’s visit to Winkleglint’s estate, since originally Scarletfeather was supposed to show up and Anti-Cosmo panicked when he couldn’t stop Scarletfeather from luring Mr. Thimble away. I could have filled another entire chapter with what happened during that study abroad week, but in the end I decided they were mostly self-indulgent and not important enough in the grand scheme of things to justify leaving in.

I’m skimming through my files of deleted scenes and I forgot I had this one too. Anti-Cosmo wasn’t supposed to have his intelligence test proctored by Ambrosine originally, as I was going to send him to this mental hospital facility. I decided against it, but here is a terrifying scene that we almost got. So, it’s technically an alternative ending too:

Dr. Gabriel handed me a piece of bark marked with the word Failed. “Don’t get cocky. Everyone has their limits.”

Failed? That lout outright failed me? I dropped the bark strip and looked up as Dr. Gabriel spread his wings. With a few sharp beats, he flew out of the pit. I chased after him, searching the platform above me with my eyes. So I couldn’t fly, and I was short, but I could make that leap-

“Oof!”

Or… perhaps not. I slid back down to the floor and landed on my rump. Never one to be deterred, I leaped back to my feet. Something to boost me, something to boost me… Oh! Snatching up his forgotten broom, I backed against the opposite wall, and then ran forward. I shoved the handle of the broom into the corner offered by the platform and the floor and launched myself into the air. Yes! Yes! Ahahaha! I hurtled out of the pit and went rolling across the ground. Dr. Gabriel spun around, his mouth falling open in surprise.

“Please,” I begged him, climbing to my feet again. My broken wings batted feebly behind me. “I want to gain a Fairy education. Level with me, doctor. You don’t want Anti-Fairies filling up your precious conservative school. And I don’t want Anti-Fairies filling it up either. True, we Anti-Fairies are known for our memories, but I like to feel special, and I shouldn’t want to chance anyone stealing my thunder away from me. You let me in, and I won’t breathe a word about your biases against my people.”

Dr. Gabriel studied me with idle coldness, clutching his tablets to his chest. He drifted a few steps backwards along the corridor. “Anti-Cosmo, your genius is entirely creative. You’re severely behind in your knowledge of technical skills, and you lack basic common sense as well as a sense of self-preservation. Because of this, we can’t recommend you be placed in any advanced programs. You’ll need to stay where you’re at.”

The corners of my mouth twisted into a frown. Then a sneer. “Frankly, Dr. Gabriel, I’m not particularly fond of that option.”

With that, I yanked out the can of forget-a-cin I’d nicked from his pouch when he’d been turned the other way. Dr. Gabriel had time to look horrified before I mashed the button down. My eyes were squeezed shut, but even so, the world around me lit with white. I let the empty canister fall to the floor and opened my eyes again to find the nervous fairy glancing around in bewilderment.

“There,” I said. “I’ve just put a block over this memory of yours. I do hope no one else would care to challenge me, or I will be forced to perform the same trick on them. Now, I demand that you, good sir, will have me enrolled in all the classes of my choosing. Is that understood?”

Dr. Gabriel’s wandering eyes finally latched onto me. His shoulders shivered, although he possibly didn’t remember why. He bobbed a bit lower in the air. Then his wings fell silent altogether, and he leaned his back against the wall. He slid down to the floor. “S-security! Security?”

His voice was too weak for anyone who wasn’t an Anti-Fairy to hear. I sighed. Covering my eyes again, I made a signal with my other hand. “Oh, dear. I do apologize. I really never do this, you must understand. It’s so messy.”

If he hadn’t been so hazy from the aftereffects of the forget-a-cin, I’m sure Dr. Gabriel wouldn’t have let me get away with as much as he did. As it happened, I walked right up to him and lay my claw against the karmic pouch on the left side of his neck. He yelped, but I knocked his clumsy hands away from me without any real effort. I braced my hand against my hip.

“I really never do this. It’s vile and crude. So sorry, I really am. But then again, well, perhaps I’m really not.” And with that, I sunk my fangs into his neck. Blech. He tasted of old mutton.

Dr. Gabriel screamed. He twisted, his shoulders rapidly seizing up. I rolled my eyes and kept my fangs embedded until his coughs turned to silence and he had frozen in place, as still as a stone statue. Only then did I wrench back my head, bringing the coils of his karmic weave along with me. Most of them were blue, but here and there a pink one surfaced, or a yellow. As the colourful threads of his life whisked above us, I stood back and traced one claw beneath my eye.

“Anti-Fairy tears consist mainly of sulfuric acid, of course. And I daresay you hurt my feelings quite a bit back there, didn’t you?”

Forcing myself to cry came as naturally as forcing myself not to cry always had. I captured the burning tear on the end of my claw and, very slowly, held it out towards the paralyzed fairy sitting against the wall. For several long seconds, I let him see it glistening there. Threatening to drip down on the place where I had bitten him. Which was still bleeding.

“I never do this,” I said again, truthfully apologetic. “It’s messy and you’ll be rather cross when you wake up, assuming you wake again at all. But it is true that I am crying, and here you are, lying so very still. We’re standing rather close, aren’t we? So close that I could touch you.”

Lacking the ability to move, all Dr. Gabriel could do was sit numbly, his mouth gaping. I lowered my claw towards his neck.

“But it’s only a single tear, isn’t it? Why should a fairy care if he made an anti-fairy child cry? No, a single tear cannot hurt your conscience. A single tear may sting your skin, perhaps, but it shouldn’t cause any long-lasting problem so long as no liquid in your body is particularly warm. Oh, wait…” Here I feigned surprise, and brought my claw a mere centimetre from his karmic pouch. Green liquid trickled down his neck. I smiled. “Why, internal Fairy body temperature borders on the boiling point, does it not? Oooh, I’d hate to see what happens when that acid comes into contact with your blood. I’ve heard it’s prone to such catastrophic explosions.”

There was, of course, no reply. Sighing, I withdrew my handkerchief from my pocket and wiped the tear from my claw.

“No, but I suppose I’m a gentleman, so I shan’t leave you comfortless. As I told you, I really never do this. I’m all boasts and bluster, really. That’s all I really am. Let’s get you cleaned up, lad.”

I was just wiping away the last drops of acid from his stunned face when the door opened behind me. I looked over my shoulder to find Anti-Jolene floating there with a clipboard in hand. She took in the threads of wild karma and my kerchief, and looked at me with her ears cocked forward.

“So… How is it going?”

I sighed and tucked the handkerchief away. “Dr. Gabriel and I have just finished, painfully. I say, are business deals with Fairies always so messy?”

She smiled a thin smile. “It would behoove us to find a neutral party who could settle things between our two races more easily, wouldn’t it?”

“I’ll be cleaning karma out of my fur for weeks,” I muttered, and went about gathering up his tangled threads so I could stuff them back inside his soul.

He was one messed up kid in this draft, that is for sure. Who knows? Perhaps I’ll find a place for this scene in the current version someday, if I ever need to send an older Anti-Cosmo to a mental health facility. For now, however, it’s deleted.

“This Is a Box” was actually supposed to end differently as well. And of course, so was “This Is Halloween.” Every once in awhile I’ll have a piece get away from me and end the way it wants, but most of them end the way I plan from the start.

Thanks for all your requests! I really appreciate your curiosity!