#I feel like I'm rallying my troops

[xiaq]

I got another raise today. Praise for my contributions to my team, validation for my hard work, and a clear overview of what my continued progression in my company could look like. I celebrated by taking the afternoon off to nap and read in bed with my husband. I painted some swatches in the space that will soon be my library in the basement of our new home. I talked to my publisher about the process of turning my 3 published books into audio books. And now I'm in the living room, writing and watching my dog attempt to entice pedestrians on the sidewalk to pet him over the front yard fence.

Next month it'll be two years since I left academia.

It was the hardest and the best thing I ever did.

Three years ago, I was having an existential crisis about my career. I was working 60+ hours a week for embarrassingly little pay as lecturer. I loved my job, but I knew that continuing to work in academia wasn't a sustainable option for me. The thought of buying a house some day was laughable. I'd sworn off relationships. I looked at my writing and I thought there was no chance I'd ever publish anything. I was nearly thirty and I felt like I'd wasted the last decade of my life and I was fighting hard against the sunk cost fallacy that whispered I should just stay. Continue as I was. Let no one know I was drowning in the life I'd always said I wanted.

See, people like to say "it gets better" when people are feeling lost or hopeless. But what they don't tell you is that in order for things to get better you often have to do big scary shit that sometimes feels like walking backward. Sometimes you have to tear things down to the studs before you can rebuild. Sometimes the path to "better" looks a lot like "worse" at first.

I was lucky that my family and friends supported my "worse" phase while I was trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life, interviewing for tech companies and taking fire fighting exams and querying agents/publishers and basically just saying "fuck it, I'll give it a try" to every available opportunity, including dating the guy who is now the love of my life. But "it gets better" requires hard work and bravery and putting yourself out there and bitter disappointment and rallying and leaning on that support system, and trying again.

So, I'm not sure where I'm going with this other than to say, for anyone else who was where I was 3 years back, anyone who feels stuck or hopeless or like they've wasted years of their life on a career or relationship that doesn't love them back: it gets better, but you have to fucking fight for it. So rally your troops. Get your support system in place. Give sunk cost fallacy the finger. And go figure out what will serve you better.

I'm so happy, now. My life is amazing. But it might have been amazing even faster if I'd dropped out of grad school after my first year when I realized that maybe it wasn't what I wanted after all. I wish I'd been brave then. Be brave now.

[seehisbriefs]

Picture yourself settled in the common area of your dorm, buried in your studies, donning a t-shirt and, of course, those tighty whities – the only underwear your parents deem appropriate for their darling 23-year-old. Suddenly, your dorm mates, Brad and Tyler, emerge, on the hunt for a bit of fun. They catch sight of you and can't contain their amusement.

Brad: "No way, man, are you actually just chillin' in tighty whities? That's just too good!"

You glance around, mortified, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, and stammer out a feeble response.

Tyler: "We have to share this moment. Hey, everyone, come see what we've got here!"

You shrink back, trying to sink into the couch, your whiny protests barely audible.

You: "Please, don't... This isn't... I'm just... studying."

But it's no use. Brad's already got a firm grip on you, and Tyler's rallying the troops.

You: "Stop it, guys... It's not... Stop laughing!"

With one on each side, they hoist you up, your arms flailing weakly as you're paraded down the hall, the snickers of your dorm mates trailing behind you.

Tyler: "Feast your eyes on the king of old-school cool in his tighty whities!"

You're practically wilting with embarrassment as the hallway fills with curious and chuckling students. You feel so exposed, so childish.

Sophie, from your biology class, peers out, her mouth agape.

Sophie: "Oh my... That's him? I can't... tighty whities? Really?"

Brad: (with a smirk) "Right? It's like he's living in the past. Hey, maybe we should upgrade him to big boy pants!"

Whispers and giggles fill the air, and you can feel the shame settling heavy on your shoulders.

Tyler: "Or maybe some superhero underoos? Might as well embrace the whole kid vibe!"

Your voice cracks as you plead with them, the embarrassment turning your pleas into whines.

You: "Please... just let me go. This isn't right... you guys are being so mean..."

But the walk of shame continues. You're the spectacle, the college senior who can't seem to let go of his boyhood underwear. As you stand there, the butt of the joke, all you can think about is how your parents always seem to know best. They've always said you weren't ready for the adult world, and right now, you can't help but feel they might be right.

[reythenerdypisces]

things that I overlooked in PJO the first time / small, funny things I noticed during my reread

Part 2: Sea of Monsters

there is a lot this time.

this book is so short and it makes up for the length by being hilarious: 

I had nightmares about what Poseidon might turn me into if I were ever on the verge of death - plankton, maybe. Or a floating patch of kelp.

Tyson froze. "Pony!" he cried in total rapture. Chiron turned looking offended. "I beg your pardon?" 

"Um..." I said. "Would this be the super-dangerous prophecy that has me in it, but the gods have forbidden you to tell me about it? Nobody answered. "Right," I muttered. "Just checking." 

"Uh, I like Hercules." "Why?" "Well, because he had rotten luck. Even worse than mine. It makes me feel better."

Annabeth looked at me. "We have to get out of here." "You think I want to be in the girls' restroom?" "I mean the ship, Percy! We have to get off the ship."

Tyson was terrified of them. All throughout the tour, he insisted Annabeth hold his hand, which she didn't look too thrilled about.

"Then why do the gods even let me live? It would be safer to kill me." "You're right." "Thanks a lot." 

A minute later, Annabeth hit a slippery patch of moss and her foot slipped. Fortunately, she found something else to put it against. Unfortunately, that something was my face. 

As Luke was raising his sword to rally his troops, a centaur shot a custom-made arrow with a leather boxing glove on the end. It smacked Luke in the face and sent him crashing into the swimming pool. and a few moments later: He [Luke] raised his sword, but got smacked in the face with another boxing glove arrow, and sat down hard in a deck chair. Luke can't catch a break from those boxing arrows, it's the funniest thing

2. also so much baby percabeth!! they’re so cute

She'd [Annabeth] emailed me the picture after spring break, and every once in a while I'd look at it just to remind myself she was real and Camp Half-Blood hadn't just been in my imagination. the fact that he printed out Annabeth's photo? 

Annabeth punched him in the nose and knocked him flat, "And you," she told him, "lay off my friend." her standing up for Percy is adorable

I mean she [Annabeth] looked good. Really good. I probably would've been tongue-tied if I could say anything except reet, reet, reet.

She [Annabeth] started to sob - I mean horrible, heartbroken sobbing. She put her head on my shoulder and I held her. Fish gathered to look at us - a school of barracudas, some curious marlins. Scram! I told them. They swam off, but I could tell they went reluctantly. I swear I understood their intentions. They were about to start rumours flying around the sea about the son of Poseidon and some girl at the bottom of Siren Bay. number 1. the way percy is always there for her, number 2. the gossiping fish?? I love it

The look in his [Grover] eyes told me something was terribly wrong. Annabeth had been on guard duty that night, protecting the Fleece. If something had happened -he’s admirably protective, of not just annabeth, but all his friends and I love to see it… exhibit b:

"But if I [Grover] get in trouble again, you'll be in danger, Percy! You could die!" "If you get in trouble again, I want to know about it. And I'll come help you again G-man. I wouldn't have it any other way." I adore their friendship.

3. other mentions: 

"I'm Thalia," the girl said. "Daughter of Zeus." what. an. ending. I still remember how floored I was when I first read this wow

the mention of Hylla got me so excited

am I the only one who forgot Percy could control the sailboat? like the flying ropes and whatnot

I also completely forgot about his watch shield! 

I'll be back for part 3 shortly! :)

[sherifftillman]

busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

masterlist | prev. | next

Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, drug content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 8.8k

A/N: Here it is, folks. The one you've all been waiting for. Enjoy. <3

I might have been a tiny wee bit self indulgent at one point in particular. Bet you can't tell where.

You frown as you swipe to answer the call from Scott. "Who died?"

"Woooow," a very familiar sarcastic response rings through your ear. "Can't a friend just call up another in this day and age?" You let the silence linger just long enough for him to then add, "Yeah, I'm chatting shit. No, I was going to ask, are you running late?"

You frown, "No, I'm not long about to close up now. Why'd you ask?"

"Well, Ralph texted me." He puts on a voice, the way you all do when talking about your flatmate. "Good afternoon, Scott. I hope you have been keeping well, and that the snow hasn't interrupted your daily life. I would like to request your assistance, I am aware that we have been tasked with making dessert for the Pal Valentine's Day meal later, but unfortunately I have noticed that we are severely lacking in eggs. I was simply wondering if, by chance you could bring some up to the flat? I would be most grateful, and willing to more than compensate you financially! Regards, Ralph."

You groan, "I asked him to get eggs this morning, he didn't want to because there were kids throwing snowballs and he was scared he'd get caught up in it. I told him to suck it up, because they can smell fear, but he's clearly too chicken-shit to go out there."

"Aww, he's never even had a snowball fight before? What even was his childhood?!" You rasp, hoping to quickly evade that topic. "Oh my god, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

You grin, “I think I am. You wanna rally the troops?”

“On it.”

You look up from your phone, still giggling, to see two of your sales assistants watching you, looking at each other and waggling their eyebrows at each other. You shake your head, “At this point, you’re well beyond barking up the wrong tree! My friend Scott and I are planning something,” you flash your eyes mischievously, and they tut back at you.

“Well, at this point, it’s not like we were expecting you to have some hot date on the other end of the line, is it?” One of them jokes, nudging the other as they run off and busy themselves at the other end of the store, still cackling.

“You two are lucky you’re my favourites!” You shout after them with a laugh. “Can I trust you to close up tonight?”

“Nah, we’re gonna loot the place,” one answers with a false sincerity.

“You poor sods won’t find much here,” you point out. “But thank you, you’re the best!” You singsong as you head past them to the back room.

“Then pay us more!” Another jokes.

“If I had control over who earns what, d’you not think I’d have done that by now? You wound me,” you dramatically push your hand to your chest as you walk backwards through the door out of the main shop floor. Once you’ve collected all your belongings, and put on all your layers, it’s pretty much time to close anyway. You salute your colleagues with a, “Godspeed getting home tonight,” and brave the cold.

Since the roads hadn’t been salted by the time you needed to get to work, you’d walked there, and while you would much rather be sitting in a heated car than feeling your cheekbones freeze over, it’s quite nice to walk through the streets of Croydon, watching the thick snow fall with the slightest bit of sun still peeking through. A gentle little reminder that longer, warmer days are just around the corner, and that winter’s soon at an end.

You’re greeted in front of your tower block by all your friends, all with varying expressions. Scott and Connor are eagerly plotting, Anna still looks a little unsure, and Grace just looks like she’s fed up of the cold. “So, what’s the plan, who’s getting him to come downstairs?” you ask once you’re with them.

“That’s what we were just deciding,” Scott replies.

“My suggestion was that Anna would be the least suspicious, but she wants no part of this,” Connor pulls a face and Anna slaps his arm.

“Shut up! I still think it’s mean,” she frowns, and you hold her arm comfortingly.

“Listen, who’d you rather be the first people to engage Ralph in any kind of snow fight, us or those little pricks up there?” You jerk your head over to where a group of middle school-age boys are playing around together. 

She sighs, “Fine, but I’m aiming for his feet, okay?”

“Aw, but it’s fifty points if you hit his face,” Scott teases.

“Okay, okay, before Grace gets hypothermia, let’s just get this over and done with, shall we?” You ask, and Grace nods from somewhere beneath her fluffy hood. “Scott, he asked you to pick up those eggs, didn’t he? Just make up some guff about how they’ve locked the front doors so he needs to come push the button to let you in.”

Scott nods, texts something, and within a few minutes pumps his fist with excitement. “Okay, he says he’ll do it! I told him to wrap up and let me know when he’s on his way down.”

“Tell him you’ve had to step away from the doors so it doesn’t look like you’re loitering,” Connor adds, “so he can’t just run back.”

“Okay, this does feel a little mean, now,” you admit, and Anna looks at you incredulously.

“No, no, you don’t get to back out now! Not after all that talking me round!”

“Yeah, c’mon, you two have been smooth sailing for ages now, surely there’s something that you can only get off your chest by a one-time snowball pelting?” Scott asks, and you think for a moment.

“He did watch the rest of that new show we were watching without me and then spoiled the ending,” you ponder.

“Jail.” Grace pulls her hood back momentarily to stare at you with wide, serious eyes.

You nod, “Yeah. Or a snowball to the shoulder. Both are the same punishment, I think.”

“Totally,” Connor sneers, and you and Grace both flip him off - or you assume that’s why she’s holding the back of her hand up to him, it’s hard to tell with her wearing mittens, but it does put everyone into a heap of laughter.

Connor’s phone beeps, and he gasps as he looks at his screen. “Alright, gang, he’s on his way down! Lock and load.”

You all get into position, snowballs in gloved hands, as you watch Ralph push the door open with ease, walk through it and look back with a frown. He tentatively moves forward one cautious step at a time, his big baby-cow eyes darting around all the while. You all hide a little further back each time until he’s inevitably in line with you all. He looks at Scott first, then his hand, then around at all of you. “Oh, fiddlesticks,” he whispers.

“This is for your own good, mate,” Connor grimaces as you all throw your missiles at him. With a half-scream, half-squawk sound, Ralph tensely curls himself up in self-defence, holding that position long after he’s been hit. “See, mate, that wasn’t so bad, was it? And that was all of us!”

“I thought you were all my friends,” he glares indignantly at you all, and you nod.

“Yeah, which is why we did it knowing you wouldn’t get hurt,” you point out. “You’re alright now, aren’t you?” He nods tentatively. “See? And the best bit, is now it’s your turn, and you get pick of the lot as to who you hit first.”

“Just hit me first, if you like, I won’t mind, and I won’t hit you again, either,” Anna shrugs, but Ralph studies all of you.

“Who’s idea was this?” He eventually asks Anna, who quickly points to you and Scott.

“Wooooow,” Scott shakes his head, but Anna simply flips him off.

Ralph bends down, eyes still flitting between all of you, as he grabs two handfuls of snow and immediately flings them both at the two of you. While you get a tiny little lump that just grazes your chest, at least he landed it with Scott, as that one flew out of his grip and straight into Scott’s mouth. A laugh bubbles out of Ralph’s lips and you all grin back at him.

“Okay, that was good, but a good snowball is two handfuls, smushed together into, yeah, that’s it, just like- ack!” Connor is silenced and humbled by Ralph throwing his third and far bigger snowball, straight into his stomach. “Prick,” he laughs as he scoops another one up to toss at Ralph again, who manages to evade it this time. “Mine was way bigger than theirs!” He makes another, adding, “Although, while I’m here, if you’re not retaliating…” Before extending himself to standing and throwing one at Anna with an almost evil cackle.

Anna gasps, “Only not to Ralph, asshole!” And throws one back at him with a giggle.

Before long, you’re all running around, including Ralph, throwing snowballs at each other and laughing like you were kids again. You’d never had thought, at your big age, that this is how you’d be spending a snowy day, but it brings back good memories of you and your four oldest friends, knocking at each other’s doors after the local news had announced that your school was closed, taking old bin lids up the steepest hills you could climb to slide down again. You look over at Ralph, with the apples of his cheeks glowing as red as his ears and the tip of his nose from all the cold, his whole face lit up as he catapults snowballs in the strangest fashion, and wonder what snow days must have been like for him. Obviously, he wasn’t sledding down hills on bin lids, but you’d have thought he and Victoria and their friends would have had friendly snowball fights. Though, you remember, from what you’ve learned of Victoria and her friends, perhaps those weren’t so friendly when aimed at Ralph.

Your thoughts are interrupted when another snowball hits Ralph, though not from any direction that any of you are standing. You all look over to the gang of young boys, snickering at each other for having landed one on “one of the oldies”, especially commending the offender for “getting the posh one”.

Though rage boils through all of you, it’s Grace, already warmed up from running around, who pushes her hood back to give them all a death stare and tell them, “You’ll regret that.”

As though called to arms, the five of you form a protective wall in front of Ralph and start hurling snowballs at the group of pre-teens at top speed until one of them yells, “Alright, alright, truce! Mercy! Whatever word gets you to stop!”

Just as you all stop, one more snowball flies up above all of you. Over your heads, down, down, and lands perfectly on top of the head of the kid that the others were praising for hitting Ralph. All your friends spin around on the spot so that all of you, as well as the boys, could stare in disbelief at Ralph, who has a small but very proud smile on his face. “Oi, that was sick!” One of the boys yells out. You mouth to Ralph that that’s a good thing as the other boys start laughing and cheering for him, too.

“Okay, alright, we’ve all had our fun,” you start holding your hands up in the air, “but this isn’t getting Palentine’s dinner ready, is it?”

“Isn’t it Valentine’s? That’s tomorrow, innit?” One of the boys answers.

“Nah, isn’t Pal-a-tine the wrinkly geezer from Star Wars?” Another asks.

“I thought it was that place that’s always fighting with Israel,” another comments.

“Maybe pay more attention to your teachers, yeah?” You ask them with a slight nod. You turn to the others. “Still meeting at Anna’s?” You ask, and they all non-verbally confirm. “Cool, see you guys in a bit. Ralphie!” You shout for him and he springs to attention, practically jumping to stand next to you. You smirk, “Ready to go get those eggs I asked for this morning?” He nods sadly and you nudge him towards the row of shops.

As you walk away, Ralph mutters, “I know I’m not supposed to interfere with knowledge about those world wars, but have there really already been ones in space, too?”

Had the snowball incident not already happened, you’d have absolutely messed with Ralph by convincing him that Star Wars were actual battles that took place in outer space. However, enough guilt consumes you that you correct him by trying to explain the entire movie franchise to him as you buy the eggs you need. Though he listens intently and nods attentively, you can tell from the vacant look in his eyes that nothing’s really going in, but at least he’s trying.

Baking with Ralph sounds like a nightmare, but he’s a diligent little helper when he’s trying. He measures your ingredients for you and he’s quick to wash up your equipment once you’re done with it. You’d only planned to go for the safe option of a simple sponge cake, predicting disaster, but the speed at which you’re all done leaves you pleasantly surprised. You’re even able to snap a little photo for Ralph’s instagram without him noticing. Once you’re all dolled up, he suggests you both take one to “show” his instagram and twitter accounts, but you opt to keep that one for just the camera roll. You’ve not seen or heard any speculation about your potential love life revolving around Ralph, and you’d like to keep it that way.

Once you finally get to Anna’s, after explaining that the boys outside of your flats had since decided to gather all the snow in the street to make one giant snowball, and had recruited you and Ralph to roll it when it got too big for them to, until you two couldn’t either. “Perfectly understandable reason,” Connor nods in understanding, and the others agree.

Once all the food is laid out, you’re glad that you all a) worked up an appetite and b) ended up pushing dinner back on top of that, because everybody preparing separate dishes has definitely overestimated what six portions of each part should be. Regardless, it’s another night of eating food, chatting away and ending with dancing around Anna’s living room, much like Ralph’s second night with you.

Another morning of February 14th, another empty bed to wake up in. You sit up, stretching out your arms, and grab your phone to look through the folder in your phone labelled “shitty mspaint valentines” to send to your friends and some of your coworkers, to make them laugh. You’re met with some laughing reactions, some rebuttals and a couple of reactions that you can tell were written with a sarcastic eye roll, which only spurs you on more.

You also post a photo you took yesterday to Ralph’s instagram, to keep his brand alive:

You’re about to drag yourself out of bed when the door opens to reveal Ralph, holding out a tray with two plates piled with waffles, two glasses of fruit juice and two mugs of tea. You watch him carefully set it at the foot of the bed and then sit next to you with your lower lip out in an affectionate pout. “Aww, Ralphie, what’s all this about?”

“Well, usually tradition would have it that Father and I would take Mother and Victoria breakfast in bed on St Valentine’s Day morning, as a tradition, and so Victoria insisted that tradition still be upheld even after our parents… Well, let’s not already put a dampener on the day before it starts! You’ll have to forgive the absence of flowers, I used to have the luxury of picking them out of the garden, but none of the plants in the flat are flowering, and it would be criminal of me to steal from others’ gardens, and all the florists were specifically selling bundles that were far too big for such a gesture, an-”

“Deep breath,” you coach him as you put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s sweet that you still wanted to uphold your little tradition. You know, my dad used to leave me and Mum Valentine’s cards on the doormat, each from “a secret admirer”, though it used to terrify me at first because I didn’t realise it was him!” You pull a face as you take a bite out of a waffle, and Ralph laughs softly. “’Course, after a while, it’d get a bit embarrassing having your dad be your Valentine, but hey, it was one more than I’ve been getting these past few years!” You finish your mouthful and wave the rest of the waffle at him. “These are pushing the boat out for you! Get you!”

“Yes, my dear American friend recommended them to me! And I managed to successfully cook them in the toaster oven!” Ralph chimes gleefully.

“Look at you go!” You beam proudly. “Soon enough, you won’t even need me!”

“Oh, don’t be preposterous,” he mutters under his breath just before taking a big sip of his tea. “Any plans for the day?”

“You mean, other than beating the hoards of men waiting for me outside that door with a stick?” You joke, and Ralph chuckles lightly. You shake your head. “Might just do another self-care day. Be my own Valentine, as if things weren’t sad enough!”

“Well, perhaps I could join you, and we would be our own ones together,” Ralph offers. He awaits your reaction with bated breath. If that goes well, perhaps he could segue into asking you to be his actual Valentine, and that would be at least one more step above simply being housemates, over being bedmates, even.

You take a deep breath in. Maybe you could ask Ralph if he’s willing to take it the slightest step further and be each other’s Valentines. It’s just an arbitrary title, really, but at least you’d have one this year. And, whenever Ralph finally leaves, at least you can remember him as more than just your flatmate who you platonically shared a bed with. Wistfully reminiscing over a Valentine does sound more romantic.

But, you have to respect his boundaries. If he felt comfortable enough to make you breakfast in bed, he would have accompanied it with a request for you to be his, but he didn’t. He’s offering to be his own Valentine, parallel to you. Message received. “That’d be nice!” You put all your effort into trying not to sound disappointed.

It works, as Ralph reads your reaction as being very happy with that idea, and he daren’t tread over that line. “Very well. So, what does being your own Valentine mean?”

“For me? Junk food, junk TV, and in this weather, wearing at least two blankets at all times,” you count off on your fingers, making Ralph laugh. “Though I better head out and get you some of your favourites, too.”

He frowns, “There’s no need, you’ll catch your death of cold out there!”

“I mean, obviously I’d get dressed first,” you pull a face. “But yeah, you deserve to get spoiled a little, too. I mean, you did all this for me,” you gesture to the tray, but Ralph rasps flippantly. “Plus,” you add with a smirk, “don’t want you hoarding all my favourite snacks.”

“There it is!” Ralph grins, pointing a finger to you and leaning in so it hovers close to your nose, making you laugh.

“You caught me!” You hold your hands up in mock guilt. “I’ll head out in a bit, okay?”

Once breakfast is over, and you’ve washed up after you both despite Ralph insisting he would do it and trying to get in - which resulted in some rather creative ways of blocking him out of the kitchen - you get dressed ready to brave yet another cold front.

You know what Ralph’s most favourite sweets are. Jelly Babies. But the ones he loves the most aren't the kind you can get from any shop - of course not, that would be too easy, and this is Ralph. No, his favourites come from an old fashioned sweet shop that lives on the same street as the shop he works in. You remember its location vividly. as you'd made a point to think about memorising it and nothing else the day you'd dropped off a treat to Ralph while at work and seen his latest idea in action - an immersive display where he dresses up to fit in with it too. But you'd firmly blocked that mental image out of your head. Of him surrounded by Wild West imagery while wearing a cowboy hat, a plaid shirt and very well-fitting jeans. You definitely hadn’t focused on that at all.

The trek to the old high street is a long one, especially since the snow that wasn’t quite gritted over had formed a barrier of sludge along the roadside that was creeping into the remnants of yesterday’s clean, soft, crunchy snowfall. You make the most of the childlike wonder that comes from stomping through it while you can, before it inevitably ices over into a deathly lumpy terrain.

You spot someone ahead hobbling through the snow, walking in your direction. You watch them carefully, unsure whether to try and help, casually walk past or actively avoid them, when an unmistakably pungent aroma precedes them. You study them a little closer and shout in recognition, “Homeless Pete!”

The man looks up and grunts at you. “How‘ve you been? Not seen you in ages!” He shrugs. Heart sinking, you note, “You were walking with quite a purpose there. Headed anywhere in particular?” Your fears are confirmed when he points over to the block of flats Ralph showed you that he’d emerged from almost half a year ago. “Oh… Today? It’s working?!” You ask, feeling your heart hurl through the ground. He nods, then gestures to you and flashes you a hopeful look. “What?! No! Not me! No, d’you remember, you brought a guy back with you from the 20s? Well, not these 20s, the nineteen-twenties.” 

He looks blankly at you. You groan, “Please don’t tell me you’re some kind of past Pete who doesn’t know about Ralph, I don’t need a migraine today.” The name seems to resonate with Pete, which is promising. “Yes! Ralph! You remember! He was all dressed up like he was in the army! And he ended up coming back with you! And then he ended up with me! S’pose I better… Could you hold off on using it until I can get him there, too?” Your words hang heavy with sadness, but you knew this day was coming.

Pete stands there in silence for a moment, thinking. He traces the air from time to time, then claps his hands, making you jump. He mimes scratching at a beard along his own stubble-covered jaw. “You mean, you’ve seen Ralph with a beard now?” He nods, pointing downwards in front of himself. “You’ve spoken to him?” Another nod. Pete looks up at the tower block, then at you, gestures with two hands towards the building, then makes an X shape with his arms, waving them down. 

“Please just fucking speak, mate.” You sigh, but he just repeats his actions. As you look lost again, he holds his two hands out again, but stops, looking at you in waiting. “So, that’s you and Ralph?” You guess, and he nods. He moves his hands up towards the building. “You and Ralph went to the place with the… Time machine.” Saying it out loud still sounds insane, even after all this time. He holds one hand close to him, and waves the other one out at you. “Is that one meant to be him?” Another nods, and then the crossed-arms gesture. You frown. “Ralph… Didn’t go in with you?” He shakes his head. “Why not?” He shrugs.

The sorrow and confusion you’ve been feeling this whole conversation start to curdle into all kinds of other feelings. There’s still some confusion there, but mostly it’s anger, frustration, disbelief. He knew how cautious you were about this day finally arriving. He knew of all the countless sleepless nights you’d spent trying to figure out things like how to hide him from your landlord, what to do if he ever falls ill. He knew that every time you picked up your post, you feared a letter from the government with big red letters asking to confirm the identity of the man who’s been claiming to live there despite not being legally registered to. He knows that you’ve been up until all hours some nights searching desperately for some kind of explanation for this phenomenon, since it can’t just be something that only Homeless Pete knows about.

Things had been going so well, especially since Christmas. You’d made peace with the fact that the clock was very much ticking with how long you’d have left with Ralph, and especially after Brighton, you had been telling yourself over and over to not sweat the small stuff, and to just enjoy having him around. You’d figured that with your feelings for him growing stronger the more that he’s around, it’s better for everyone if, instead of constantly counteracting them with the negatives, you’d just let yourself get over him quietly. 

Maybe you should have been more forceful. Created more boundaries. Made it more obvious that he can’t just cheat his own fate, who knows what kind of damage he’s done to… Literally the entire universe, anything could be possible! You’d thought you’d always made it so clear to Ralph to always be preparing for the day he goes back. That no matter how great the life is he’s made for himself here, at the end of the day, all this is, is a learning experience for him to take this level of confidence back with him to his own time.

Forgoing the sweet shop, and any other shop for that matter, you make a beeline home, your steps far more deliberate and angry than the gentle march you had been taking through the snow. Even the sight of the lift in your building angers you, so you push your way up the stairs up until the ninth floor, storming through your front door.

Ralph looks over at you from where he sits on the sofa, delight on his face, which quickly falls when he sees your expression. “Is everything alright?”

“Is it?!” You screech. “Have a guess who I saw out there.”

He frowns. “I’m not sure, I didn’t quite think there was anyone out there who upset you to that degree. Would you like some tea or something to calm down?”

“Don’t you dare tell me to ‘calm down’ when you are the reason I haven’t felt ‘calm’ for almost six months now!” You hold your forehead, and Ralph looks back at you, confused, sad and a little scared.

“I - I quite apologise, is there something I’ve done that’s brought this -”

“Don’t you go giving me the ‘oh, yes, quite’ spiel,” you mock his tone, “not when you’ve been lying to me under my own roof! I trusted you!” You stop yourself when you hear your voice crack at that last sentiment.

He swallows hard. “In what respect have I been dishon-”

“I saw H.P. while I was out, didn’t I?! Going towards that block of flats. So I tell him, I say, oh hang about, Pete, let me go grab Ralph so he can go back. And what do you think he told me?!” You ask, now stood next to the couch, squatting down to get eye level with Ralph.

His eyes dart as he wrings his hands, his eyes squeezing shut and open over and over again. “Yes, well, you see, that -”

“Right, all this umm-ing and ahh-ing is just… Annoying me even more,” you state, rubbing your temples. “I just want the facts, Ralph.”

“You said not to talk about anything from that weekend,” he mutters, and you look at him in disbelief.

“You’ve been holding out on me about this since November?!” You ask incredulously.

“You said! Not to talk! About anything! From that weekend!” Ralph jumps to his feet, punctuating every gap in his sentence with a chop to his palm.

You stand back up to level with him. “Yeah, as in all the shit about - God, are we really gonna drag all of that into light again, now?!”

“Well, if we could just talk about it, calmly,” Ralph gesticulates, but you scoff.

“You gave up all rights to that the moment you started lying to me,” your voice shakes. “It’s you, Ralph. You’re the one person I don’t expect to lie to me, since I don’t lie to you.”

He rasps in disbelief. “That’s not entirely true, now, is it? Or else you wouldn’t react so harshly. There’s something you’re hiding from me, isn’t there? Has your sense of charity finally worn, is that it?” He speaks with the venom in his tone that you’ve only ever heard whenever he’s talking about himself. “What, have you been counting the days down until you could throw me back out? Is that why you’re up until the ungodly hours, researching how to get rid of me sooner?”

You groan, pressing your fingers into your eyelids. “You can’t keep doing this, you can’t just keep making yourself the victim here when that obviously isn’t what I want!”

“Ah, yes, well, you must forgive me for not realising sooner that everything here is exactly as it always has been for my entire life,” Ralph spits. “People pretending to care about me to then use me for my money, or my social status, is one thing, but I have nothing here. Nothing but… Being a pitiful little man.”

“How many more times are we going to have this argument, Ralph? Everybody loves you here!” You punctuate every syllable of the first word with claps. “It’s not just because they pity you, because they don’t know you! They don’t know how you got here, or anything about your shitty family, people just like you! You have to stop being so narrow-minded and start seeing how this,” you gesture in circles in front of him, “affects the rest of us! Especially me, I’m out here having to - to keep track of what secrets I’m keeping and what lies I’m telling to who.”

“Yes, well. Nobody asked you to,” he mutters, looking at the floor.

Your blood now boiling, and all rationality out of the window, you scoff, “Oh, so now you’re ungrateful?!” His eyes snap to yours, but you carry on before he can interrupt you again. “I put my job on the line every time I have to leave early for you. I put my entire livelihood on the line harbouring a fugitive that doesn’t legally exist anywhere, not to mention that I have no clue what to do if you ever need urgent medical attention, if my landlord suddenly decides to kick me out, I don’t know how I’m going to keep them from finding out about you and potentially charging me a fuckton extra, I just - You can’t just think about everything I risk for you even once, can you?”

He frowns, “How dare you say that I don’t care?! I keep a healthy diet, despite all the times you decide we’ll just take away food instead, I keep to myself as much as possible other than the things that you have me do, and whenever I do leave the flat, I leave no trace that I was ever here!”

“Look, we’re getting away from the main problem, here, and I’m not skirting around it any more,” you shake your head. “Why did you lie to me?”

“Strictly speaking, I’ve never told a lie, merely omitted my meeting with Peter from any conversation between you and I,” he points out, and you scowl at him. He sighs, “But you don’t understand. If I told you that, you’d want to know why. And I can’t - there are far bigger things at play here,” he shakes his head.

You look at him in disbelief, “Like what?! Are you some kind of time-travelling spy? An intergalactic detective?”

“Clearly not,” Ralph scoffs.

“Then what, Ralph?” You raise your voice. “What possible reason do you have for - for causing me all that grief all those months ago, just to then go against the one thing you were supposed to do, putting the fate of whatever’s out there at risk all while only living the life of half a person, hm? Why would you choose to stay here like this?!”

“Because I’m in love with you, obviously!”

You and Ralph stare at each other for what feels like hours of silence. His wide, terrified eyes boring into yours as his whole face turns red. His lip quivers and then, suddenly, he pushes past you as you’re still frozen on the spot. You just about turn around to see the last of him rush out of the door, carrying his shoes in his hand.

His coat still hangs on the door, and you can see the snow is falling again. Not realising you’d been holding a breath in the whole time, you groan it out as you grab his coat, wrapping it around your arm to avoid it dragging on the floor, and head out to follow him. You see the display above the lift counting down and curse yourself for having worn yourself out on the way up here earlier.

You huff your way back down the stairs and try to find any trace of where Ralph could have gone. You study the footprints in the snow, vaguely recognising some in the shape of Ralph’s shoes, and decide that it’s as good a lead as any to try and follow them, though they quickly disappear once you get to the main street area. You notice someone loitering and decide it’s worth a shot.

Running across the road to meet them, you ask, “I know this sounds strange, but have you seen a guy go past? Had on a fuzzy blue jumper and no coat, I mean like -”

“Like he was wearing the Cookie Monster’s skin?” They ask with amusement. You sigh with relief, nodding hurriedly and they point, “Went towards the old high street, looked like he was tweaking.”

You thank them and start running as quickly as the resistance from the snow will allow you. It doesn’t help that the wind happens to be blowing the snowfall directly into your face, causing you to constantly stop to rub your eyes or sputter at whatever lands on your mouth.

Once you get back to the street you’d just been to moments before, you sigh with exhaustion as there doesn’t seem to be any trace of him. You still begin pacing the street, looking in every shop window that you pass. You wonder whether he’s hiding at his work, where you wouldn’t be able to get near him, and whether it would be worth asking in there. You’re on good enough terms with his colleague now, and perhaps the eclectic owner of the store might lift your spirits a little. There’s an awful lot of emotional weights on your chest right now, and you’re not sure which ones you’re supposed to be holding. You’re not entirely sure of anything right now, other than that you need to find Ralph.

Not paying attention to what’s in front of you at all, you end up almost vaulting over some poor baby’s stroller as their mother tries to get past you. “Oh my god, I am so sorry!” You apologise hurriedly, and she looks at you with a weirdly knowing smile.

“You looking for the guy who’s been cutting about in just his jumper?” She asks, gesturing to the coat in your arms.

Your eyes widen, “Yes! Oh my god! Have you seen him?!”

“Nice fella, helped me get the little’un across the road amongst all the snow. Really posh?” You nod again, hoping to egg her along. She eventually tells you, “Yeah, I told him to hurry up and get inside, he’ll catch his death! He went over there, towards them flats.” You don’t even need to look in the direction she’s pointing to know where she means.

You thank her profusely, adding a, “Cute baby!” over your shoulder as you quickly make your way down to your next clue.

Thankfully, it’s more than just that, as you find Ralph leaning against the wall of the building just next to the front door, squatting not far from the ground, his arms crossed over his torso and his head sunk low.

He doesn’t look at you as you walk over to him, but you hold his coat out in front of him. “At least put this on, yeah? That mum’ll have your throat, otherwise.” He silently reaches out for it and stands to put it on.

“He’s not here,” he mutters quietly. “Peter, I mean.”

“So, that was your answer to all of this?” You ask, your voice strangely calm considering how tumultuous your internal monologue is. “To just run back to your old life and leave this one all unanswered and up in arms? No care as to how it’d affect anyone else?”

“Of course I care about - well, I suppose the cat's out of the bag. Of course I care about you. It’s why I thought I shan’t burden you any further. I’ve already insulted your generosity by assuming you hadn’t the agency to tell me that you didn’t want me, without taking into account that perhaps you were being genuine. It’s what caused all that trouble when we were in Brighton. And I didn’t want you to feel any more obligated to do anything more out of - I can’t describe it as anything other than pity, but I never wanted you to feel as though you had to pity me, either.”

You sigh, “Look, I get it. It’s complicated as all fuck. Trust me, I’ve been trying to work out all the ins and outs and ups and downs of it all for months, now. But anything here, it just - we don’t know what it’s gonna do, you know? There’s far bigger forces at play here, you literally travelled through time, surely that’s cocked the universe up cosmically somehow? I don’t even know,” you groan in frustration.

“Well, obviously, I wouldn’t have agreed to stay unless I absolutely knew it wasn’t going to put you at any risk. But Peter stated that… Lauren and the rest, they’ve yet to make any sort of return. And since they could have chosen any time, they surely would have by now. I think… I think they stayed, in the past. And it’s not as though the sky’s turned upside down as a result, or that the world is being run by lizard people, now.”

“Depends on who you ask,” you mutter to yourself with a smirk, before looking over at Ralph. “I’m just hurt that you didn’t think to tell me. I know, I know, it was that weekend, but still. You could have told me that you’d thought it safe to stay, regardless of when you’d figured it out.”

“Would you have still been mad at me?” He asks quietly.

“Honestly? Probably,” you shrug. “I’d probably have argued the toss with you over every single possibility that things could still go wrong. But I’d never, ever force you to come here. Haven’t I been saying it all along? I don’t want you to leave. I’ve been dreading the day that you’re not in my bed anymore, that the flat becomes too quiet again, that I’ll have to spend my evenings watching TV alone without your constant nagging.”

“I thought that rather bothered you,” the hint of a soft smile just about tugs at the corners of Ralph’s lips.

“Oh, it does,” you admit, laughing softly, “but I don’t even want to think about a life where I won’t hear any of that, again. You know, and - and just being reminded of you all the time. All our friends always asking after you, and talking about you, never letting me get over you. I’d stay up at night, staring at the bedroom door from the sofa, wondering what’d be worse; that, or you living your old life meaning that you’d never have existed in mine, meaning I’d have no memory of you at all.”

“I’d always perished the thought of leaving - well, all of you, but especially you,” Ralph’s voice is still quiet. “You’d always - always tell me to tell my sister and Lauren to shove it, but honestly, I don’t think I could ever do that without you there with me. Even if they were to throw me out and I had to find my own way around, nobody else would hold a candle to…” He takes a deep sigh. “I always… I know I’ve always been the hopeless romantic, it’s one of my biggest flaws. And after falling for Lauren as soon as I’d seen her, and everything that happened thereafter, I swore to myself that I’d never let myself do that, again. That’s why I joined the French Foreign Legion, so I could focus on the task at hand, and learning how to build a camaraderie with my fellow soldiers. Except none of them wanted to do that. And so I left, and I ended up right here, and it was only a few streets away that -”

“That some dickhead spilled coffee all over you,” you finish his sentence with a smirk.

“I told you then as well, didn’t I, you’re far from one of those,” Ralph looks at you softly. “But I felt it all come back again. Everything I felt when I first saw Lauren. And before Lauren, when it was Maggie. And before Maggie, when it was - oh, heavens, you don’t need to hear about all my failings. But every time, I acted too quickly, and I only caused myself shame and heartbreak. And when I ended up here, I needed - well, something or someone, anything to anchor me, I had no clue what was happening to me. But you were so kind to me, from the very beginning. And I didn’t want to jeopardise your generosity by ruining it the same way I ruin most other things. So I kept my feelings to myself, for once, hoping that the time to leave would catch up before I let my feelings grow. But here we are,” he sighs. “I suppose I shall have to come clean to the others, and seek refuge with one of them. Though not one of your friends as well, I would never put you in that position. I’d have to perhaps tell Loz, out of all of those…”

You frown, “But why would you have to?” He opens his mouth to answer, but you interrupt him, “You’ve not once asked me how I feel about you.”

“Yes, well, you made some things rather obvious in the flat,” he replies coolly.

“Fair enough,” you nod, “but don’t you think I’d only overreact like that if I was really upset? And that I’d only be that upset if I cared about you so much that it’d break my heart to think you could have lied to me? You’ve yet to ask me how I feel about all of this.”

Ralph wrings his hands together, wincing as though bracing for a physical impact as he asks, “Of course, my apologies. So… How do you feel?”

“It’s hard to say,” you admit, trying not to laugh at his offended face. “Okay, I know, I’m being a dick again. I’m just… I dunno, even though, like, I know now that I can say it, it’s still not easy to just, say out loud for the first time.” You let out a long and shaky breath. “I think that… I’ve never been in love before. But if feeling safer being around you, and always wanting to share my life with you, and dreading the day I never see you again, and my heart soaring every time your face lights up with happiness… I think all of those things are the kind of guff people talk about in those romance films. And I didn’t think those kinds of feelings happened in real life, but… I think I know it, now.” You hold his face in your hands and finally say the words that have been dying to leave you all this time. “I love you, Ralph.”

He looks awestruck back at you. You study his face for any other reaction at all, and after a few beats, any sign of life since he remains unmoving, but he soon gleefully grins, leaning in to kiss you. You meet him halfway, moving your arms to wrap around his neck as you press peck after peck against his lips. His arms wrap around your waist as you just kiss him, and nothing else, because nothing else matters. You only break away from each other for air, and to turn your heads to then resume kissing each other as the snow falls around you both.

It’s only when someone clears their throat to get your attention, commenting, “I know it’s Valentine’s Day, but Christ on a bike,” as they push past you, that you actually step away from each other for more than a split second.

You catch Ralph’s eye and hold your hand out to him, “Wanna go get some jelly babies, put on those face masks that make you look like you’re glowing and curl up watching crappy movies and stuffing our faces?”

“I could enjoy watching paint dry in your company, my love,” Ralph smiles warmly at you as he takes your hand, and you take a step back, aghast, but still intertwined with him.

“And where was Ralph the smooth-talker hiding this whole time?!” You ask incredulously, laughing as you fall into step with him.

“Oh, that’s nothing, darling,” he comments, and your heart flies into your throat. You’d heard him call you that in your dreams a hundred times over, but actually hearing it drives you wild. “As I said, I’ve always been quite the hopeless romantic. I’m afraid you’re going to be seeing that at full throttle, now.”

You cackle so hard you bend double. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m gonna see Full Throttle Ralph,” you just about manage to choke out the name through your laughter, and he frowns at you.

“I’m simply warning you that, in agreeing to our courtship, you understand that Ralph Penbury does nothing by halves.”

“Oh god, I’m gonna have to do a lot of catching up, then!” You joke, but he squeezes your hand.

“Oh, good gracious, no, you certainly don’t have to do that! You already do more than enough for me, and I don’t show love just to receive it back, anyway,” he shakes his head.

The journey back to your flat takes the best part of an hour, mostly because you keep interrupting your walk to pull Ralph in for more kisses on the way. You can’t help it, the way his face blushes with the cold just makes him look so adorable, who wouldn’t want to kiss him?!

Plus, when you’d gone to pick his sweets up, he’d told you he had somewhere else to be, run out of the shop, and returned minutes later just as you were leaving, with a bunch of flowers. “I’m cutting it a little short, I know, but would you like to be my Valentine?” He asks as he offers you them.

You take them as you exchange the bag of his sweets into his hands, gasping, “How did you find these so last minute?!”

“Well, they were in our window display,” he admits bashfully, and you laugh.

“Wait, these are from your shop?!”

Ralph nods. “Yes, but I don’t think they mind, too much. Babs was punching the air and telling me to ‘Get in, my son’, but I couldn’t leave you outside and I was technically born in time to be her father, let alone son,” he shakes his head, causing you to laugh even more.

“Shit, I forgot to answer you, didn’t I?!” You look over at Ralph adoringly. “I’d love to be your Valentine, Ralphie. D’you wanna be mine? I’m afraid the sweets won’t last nearly as long as these, as an offering, but -”

“They’re perfect. As is my Valentine this year,” he beams, kissing the part of your forehead not obscured by your hat.

Once you get home, you change out of your snow-soaked clothes and decide to wear the pyjamas you’d both gotten for Christmas from your parents. You wonder whether to tell your friends right off the bat what’s happened today. You know Ralph can keep a secret, but ever since you’d said those four words to him, he’s been practically shouting his devotion to you from the rooftops. As much as you can’t wait to share in this big milestone of yours with your best friends, you just want nothing more than some uninterrupted time to spend catching up with all the affection you’ve been so desperately wanting to give to Ralph this whole time, and vice versa. Besides, they’ve all got dates tonight, too. You don’t want to interrupt their evenings. That’s what you’ll tell them when they inevitably find out.

Instead, you spend the afternoon and well into the evening pampering yourself and your - Boyfriend? What would you even call Ralph? Although that remains short lived as he realises that face masks are just a barrier preventing more kissing from happening, and he pouts until he’s got full access once again. Every peck comes with its own sweet nothing - a declaration of love, a compliment, a comment of gratitude. Although he’d told you it wasn’t necessary, you do try to match his energy - but it just becomes exhaustive after a while.

You had your heart set on ordering from your favourite Chinese takeaway from this morning, before the day's events had transpired, but Ralph is more than happy to eat from there, as well. You even go so far as to try and teach him how to hold chopsticks, though his adorable attempts to keep interlocking your fingers to pull your hand to his lips to to kiss it instead are far more adorable.

After watching some cheesy rom-coms - or rather, spending the night cuddling and constantly kissing Ralph some more while Sandra Bullock tries to find love over and over on the TV - you eventually retire to bed. As you do, your phone chimes its specific tone to tell you the group chat has updated. Laying in bed, you unlock your phone to see a photo of Scott and his partner, on their sofa with a glass of wine each, which is then followed by Grace sharing a snap of her and her boyfriend wearing face masks together in her bathroom. Anna sends a mysterious snap of two fancy-looking meals and two glasses being clicked together, one certainly in her own hand but the other is held by a mystery man, and Connor shares a very sweet photo of him and Ralph's friend Lauren in a restaurant booth together.

Ralph's head rests on top of yours as you show him the photos, and you can feel his smile getting wider at the photo of his two friends from different parts of his life here sitting so closely together. You lean your head up to grin at him, "Should we?”

He smiles back at you as you switch to your camera app. You aim it at you and Ralph and look back over at him, for him to press a kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, smiling into it, and tap at the screen, your muscle memory still knowing exactly where the shutter is without having to see the screen. You type “happy vday from me and my valentine, too 😘”, hit send, laugh loudly with Ralph as you see all four speech bubbles show up at once, and then put your phone on silent and lay it face-down on your nightstand.

You roll back over to snuggle up against his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin as he embraces you. “Goodnight, my love,” you hear him whisper in your ear. “Pleasant dreams.”

“Night, Ralphie. Love you,” you mutter back, holding him tight and breathing in deeply, finally free to indulge all you want in the prospect of having a relationship with the man you’ve been in love with for the last five months.

next chapter

[thechaseofspades]

DT17 Anniversary Posting

So I've heard around the cafeteria that there's a theme for today centered around people's favorite episodes. Well, I don't have [a] favorite episode. But I can narrow it down to 1 per season, so let's go with that.

(P.S. if you were tagged in this post it's because I gave you cool people a shoutout at the end.)

S1: The Last Crash of the Sunchaser!

When I first watched this show, this episode was the one where I realized things were serious. This wasn't just a funny duck show. It's definitely still funny and a duck show, but it's so much more than that.

On Disney+, this episode comes right after Lena is possessed by Magica, so my mind was 100% on that heading in. Instead, we got the resolution to Dewey's arc and the mystery of Della Duck... or so we thought!

Sure, we found out Della's fate, but that was almost secondary to the family drama, especially between Dewey and Scrooge. It's very intense, and even when we get the answers we're looking for, the questions all change.

I don't need to explain why this episode is good. It just is. The fact that I picked this episode, and not a Lena-centric one, shows how good it is.

S2: A Nightmare on Killmotor Hill!

Alright fine. One Lena episode.

After Lena was brought back in "Friendship Hates Magic!", the question was, where do we go from here? I think they handled it very well, integrating her back into the kids' friend group while still letting the effects of Magica's abuse linger on.

I really enjoy the idea of characters' dreams showing their deepest fears and desires. The kind of stuff they would otherwise stash away when they're awake. This episode took that concept and sprinted with it.

I still think we ought to have had more sleepover episodes with all of the kiddos. When everybody is fighting for screen time in Season 3, this episode shows how you can balance several characters at once, even if Lena was the one getting the majority of the attention. The "Swanstantine" episode is another good example of this.

I mean, come on. We got Webby dressing herself up as Scrooge McDuck as soon as she realized she could do whatever she wanted. It was foreshadowed from the beginning!

S3: Astro B.O.Y.D.!

I've talked about this one before. It's one of my favorite pieces of autism rep. Boyd's journey in this episode really resonated, as well as his relationship with Huey.

In my opinion, the best part about it is how Huey relates to Boyd. Specifically not because he's a robot, but how Huey sees him as just a kid, just like him. The robot part is more of a neat quirk than anything. He's wired differently, literally, but they deserve a chance to be themselves.

And I appreciate how "Astro-B.O.Y.D!" gives Boyd a purpose as a character. I thought the bit in the Doofus episode where the villains try to pull the same con as Louie was fun, but Boyd didn't feel like much of a character, or at least no more of one than Sharkbomb was.

So "Astro-B.O.Y.D!" takes a character that very well could have had a one-off bit role, and made him something special. Made him somebody that a viewer can relate to, just as Huey did in the episode. Even just for 22 minutes, Boyd felt special. I felt special. I felt seen.

So yeah, that's my three. The fact that I can sit here and ramble about a half-decade old show that ended before I found it, is really cool. I'm so glad to have the chance to hang out with everybody here, whether we're discussing the best show in the history of time or doing literally anything else.

Shoutout to the people rallying the troops for today's anniversary... @secret-tester @justaboot @alexcanine @boingodigitalart @yeyeducks @cookieruby @the-richest-duck ... and to everyone else who's participated not just today but any day. We wouldn't be a community without the fine folks in it.

[fanaticsnail]

I've been thinking on it and I'm curious so I have a fun little ask game - if you were in the one piece universe, what would your dream be? As outlandish and ambitious as you like, Lord knows one piece characters have no sense of subtlety or self preservation, why should we?

For reference, I think mine would be (and I really can't think of a way to avoid the euphemisms here) to be the best rider - that is to ride every single animal as a steed, even if I had to rodeo / break in the sea beasts. (I used to help break in horses when my family used to sell them). A sub category of this dream would be to find the best steed most suited to my needs.

Suicidal, I know.

What would yours be?

What's Your Dream

(Wow, got me having a lil spiralling existential crisis over here)

Your One-Piece dream sounds spectacular!! A druidic, empathetic beast-master would be such an incredible ability to have. There are so many beautiful creatures in the OP world, what a beautiful dream to tame them all.

Mix that in with some Avatar: the last Airbender "water-bending", my goodness; what a delightful combo that would be!!

Personally, I'm a bard at heart. I have been playing music for over 20 years, and I feel like I'd have to do something with it. I'd want to serenade the on the high seas, play a single gig at Baratie, woo the warriors with my warcry, splitting bow-hairs with my violin as I do. I'd love duel Brook with The Devil Went Down to Georgia, that's for sure. Or perhaps Bach's Double Violin Concerto or Vivaldi's Winter.

But I'm more than just that. I have done so much with my life, and I'd want to use every single bit of my accumulation of knowledge and skills in some way. I've worked in so many industries: entertaining through music, horticulture (specialising in viticulture and winemaking), a teaching degree, circus skills and gymnastics, dance, judo and jujutsu, hair-dressing certificates and makeup work, disability support services, working in tourism in cellar doors - selling wine and sampling it to ensure its quality. I'm also the ever present "mum-friend," rallying the troops and fighting battles for my friends through unwavering support and omnipresent, unconditional love.

Truthfully, if given the opportunity and means: my dream would be to leave behind a legacy of joy - it wouldn't matter what I did, as long as people enjoyed the time they spent with me. Very cliché answer, I know. I am just a snail.

I absolutely know what I wouldn't want. I would not be able to survive without swimming. I love swimming. Lazy beach swimming days, snorkelling and witnessing the wonder below the waves. No devil-fruits for this snail. No way.

So, to sum up all that nonsense, I'd probably end up working for The Clown.

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love: and be loved in return."

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Do you have good recommendations of books/movies/ect that either do a particularly good job explaining certain facets of it (you mentioned Early Modern Catholicism recently, which was what got me thinking of this), or simply captures a vibe of the period in a way you think was particularly well-done?

Thanks!

Oooh like late medieval/early modern Catholicism/religious movements of the time (i.e., reformation)?

I think some of my favourites are:

Little Hours (film) - ok, so hear me out. Boccaccio would have LOVED the recent film interpretation of those stories of his (it's stories one and two from the third day, if I remember right. Been a while since I read the Decameron). It's modern in language, music, humour and incredibly pop-modern particularly. Yet the clothes and scenery etc. are all more or less of the late 14th century. Boccaccio, who wrote in the vernacular and enjoyed the bawdy and "common" entertainments of the day, would have been like "yes, you get it. you get what I'm doing" about it.

Just a fun, raunchy story of the late medieval era and it does capture some of the vibes~~.

(Story time: I got into an argument with one of the more curmudgeonly and pedantic historians I know irl and he was so against this movie and I was like "I'm sorry that you're wrong and Boccaccio's ghost is going to laugh at you but it is what it is I guess".)

Wolf Hall (book and show) - while I love the show, I recommend the books over it (for many reasons, not the least of which is: let Thomas Cromwell be fat). That said, if you're pressed for time or can't get into Hilary Mantel's writing style, the show is perfectly good.

She does a great job of capturing England in a state of change and the push pull of the early reformation. Cromwell is obviously of the Protestant persuasion but the dynamic, complicated quality of the average person's engagement with their faith and the Church is more or less captured. It's also just gorgeously written--very lush, you sink into her writing style, quite gorgeous. She also gets her historical details right, so that's a win.

(Unlike the movie Luther which is just like: Luther is always right, the Catholics are always wrong. The end.)

If you're a fan of Thomas More, he doesn't come the best in this, but you know - we are deep in an interior third person of Cromwell's brain so that informs the view of the world we are presented.

(There is a hilarious scene where Cromwell is trying to rally the troops to save More from himself and you get Cromwell, the Duke of Norfolk and a few others kneeling before Henry basically begging for mercy to be shown and it's so fucking funny. Bleak, heart breaking, but also funny.)

A Man for All Seasons (play and film) - and the famous play that Hilary Mantel is in direct conversation with! There's a good movie version of it that I was enamoured with for a time. It's very much a pro-Thomas More piece of writing, so take that for what it's worth. It does suffer a little from the Luther effect of Thomas More always being right and Cromwell and Cranmer and the others always being wrong (or, rather, Luther suffers from the A Man for All Seasons effect). But you know, it's still worth watching I think.

An Instance of the Finger Post (book) - a little later than the other pieces, this is set in the 17th century and is a great who-dunnit from three different perspectives, exploring the classic issue of an unreliable narrator. I remember feeling that it captured life in Oxford just post the Restoration quite well. Also we get some fun cameos from Locke, Boyle and others who were bopping around at that time. Two of the narrators are also known figures from Oxford in the 1660s.

Lent (book) - So, my main man Marsilio Ficino wrote that famous letter to the college of cardinals after Savonarola was executed describing Savonarola as a demon who didn't know he was a demon. Jo Walsh took that concept and ran.

Basically, we follow Savonarola (who is a demon that, at first, didn't realize he was a demon) as he gets stuck in this time loop where he has to keep reliving the last five(ish) years of his life until he manages to free himself from hell. It's like Ground Hog Day but in 15th century Florence.

I have questions around the mechanisms and theological implications of like...his birth, his childhood etc. but you know, don't let that ruin a fun read.

I will say, Lent is a sloooooow start. Like. very slow. I almost set it down and didn't pick it back up at first. It really hits its stride about halfway through. But, it's a fun look at 1480s and 90s Florence with Ficino, Mirandola, Poliziano, Lorenzo de' Medici for a hot minute before he dies etc.

My beef is 1: Piero Soderini, my boy, she did you dirty (tbf to Walsh, the book is from Savonarola's perspective and he and Soderini were not close, shall we say. I may, or may not be, biased); 2: Marsilio is present and we love that but there is no word on Cavalcanti. Not even mentioned in passing!; 3: some of the exposition is heavy handed and could have used some tightening up etc.; 4: Jo Walsh's use of the English for words like Prior etc. which she explains her motive for at the back of the book. I've still got quibbles with that choice, though I know that's a me-thing.

But if you want a novel that is a decent look at every day Catholicism in the early modern period, this is a good one.

Le Moine et la Sorcière (The Sorceress) (film) - a medieval French film from the 1980s that takes place in the 13th century and follows the arrival of a Dominican friar in a small southern French town investigating rumours of a sorceress. It's a delightfully weird piece that plays with the story of St. Guinefort (the dog saint!) as well as medieval faith healing and other local synchronistic practices that carried over from pre-Christianized France.

The whole exploration of local sainthood, where a figure is not formally determined to be a saint by the Church but local people venerate them and eventually they sort of are absorbed into the canon, is fantastic.

The friar, Etienne, is wonderfully drawn as a character. I do wish they had given the same treatment to Elda, the titular "sorceress". But it's still worth a watch if you can get your hands on it.

Name of the Rose (book and film) - an Umberto Eco classic! Another who-dunnit, but in a Medieval monastery in the 14th century. Absolutely worth reading - beautifully and intelligently written. Lots of back and forth on the different religious thoughts and movements of the time (some deemed heretical, others more just fringe things people were into).

William of Baskerville is the main detective figure but the story is told from the point of view of his acolyte Adso. It's got lots of gothic feeling to it with an isolated monastery, a labyrnthian library, murder, madness, sexual tensions and so on.

This is one of my favourite books (up there with Wolf Hall and Kate Zambreno's Heriones).

There is a movie version with Sean Connery and it's fun to watch but really, the book is worth it. 110% worth it.

Other good films/plays that I can think of off the top of my head (they're all more medieval but w/e):

Seventh Seal (film)

Becket (film and play)

Lion in Winter (film and play)

I hope this answers your question? (I mostly hope I got the time period roughly right! I know I veered heavily in medieval in some of the rec's but they're all gold and worth the time.)

Thank you so much for the ask! <3 <3

[bamboobrat]

succession s4 e5 recap: swedish elon and his logan roy tribute band

time is a flat circle and we are back to ken hyping himself listening to rap, driving to the office.

anyone feeling nostalgic yet?

he is immediately caught off guard by the fact that roman and shiv are already there.

also he seems like the worst boss ever.

i really don't like ken when he is not hitting rock bottom.

(there is a movie about a sleeping robot in a cave that takes up too much time in this episode. let's not get into all that)

the old guard checks up on the CE-bros before their trip to norway.

matchy matchy&lt;3

turns out mattson wants them all there (why wouldn't he?) so THE GANG IS GOING TO NORWAY! lets bleed the swede!*

*as a norwegian, i approve this message

mortality has set into team krank, as they put on compression socks before the flight.

krank is not here to have fun. krank has no young mistress to impress. krank is serious.

shiv has noticed ken's leaks to the media from last week because she is boss. it's the comeback we've been waiting for.

but most importantly, she is waging a very important war against tom and his stupid new sneakers:

the sibs say they can kill tom for her. that's brotherly love.

hugo is not having a good time.

i am tho.

gerri rallies the troops by shitting on europeans.

yes mommy tell me i'm weak because i have free healthcare! sit on my face

gerri for CEO. always.

they accurately depict what it is like driving in norway:

(this is why i don't have my licence)

the gang arrives in the motherland and it's beautiful, but rainy (so authentic) and are all like WHY THESE WOOD CABINS SO SMALL?!

ironic because jeremy lives in fucking denmark.

anyway, whatever this is:

I DO NOT APPROVE!

the trip up to mount olympus is interrupted by con saying he can send a picture of their dead dad to the group chat.

nobody wants to see it.

also, marcia is putting logan in a kilt like the fucking bay city rollers and con had to cancel a room full of working class whites in cleveland. the sacrifice.

they give con carte blanche for the whole funeral thing, which is probably a terrible decision.

the funeral is going to be one big campaign rally, i'm serious.

the others have to settle for a nice lil scandi brunch spread. what a hard life.

i don't say this often, but i would be hugo in this scenario, piling onto my plate like it's nobody's business.

karolina has a cute lesbian moment.

she says something in swedish at some point, but let me tell you, i understand swedish and i didn't even pick up on it. no shade to dag, but lol.

hugo doesn't understand how ski jumping works.

i thank the writers for putting this joke in there, even if literally no one other than random scandi people will get it.

it's like the opposite of danny boyle's the beach<3 give back to the community<3

roman enters negotiations and puts his fingers in the caviar.

you think i didn't notice? after all this time, you must know i notice everything.

the CE-bros make the village elders proud, as mattson offers 187 per share as long as he gets ATN.

also, gerri does a second take looking back at roman. these are the crumbs i am destined to live on, i guess. roman doesn't want to give up ATN tho, probably because 1) his dad wanted ATN 2) his dad told him he wouldn't make it at pierce and belongs at ATN 3) he is, somehow, the most rational of the siblings right now????

speaking of rational: how are we feeling about the shiv/mattson potential here? i honestly have zero objections.

shiv is like fuck yeah, sell ATN, that shit is toxic.

agreed, but who gave mencken an open line to ATN-meetings? sounds like something logan told cyd to do during one of those late night calls.

"even dad had a line" rings true zero percent. pass.

get rid of atn. word is, they don't even have tucker carlson anymore? just keep a sweater, much less racist.

we get some important leo dicap representation:

and greg is the bringer of all that is exposition, telling us there is a kill list with 8 to 9 names, ever evolving.

now, as most readers of these recaps would know, i would like to avoid spending any time on greg whatsoever (made even more poignant by the recent rumors about nick), however, this must be one of the best exchanges of dialogue ever made:

greg: da fam shiv: da fuck

that's all.

tom tells the swedes that americans don't care about the rest of the world and it's funny because it's true.

and alex being like "you're ALL related?!"

i see you, succession writers, i see you.

mattson calls waystar a parts shop and has a good take on right wing media:

"i dont think news for angry, old men works"

instead, he opts for bloomberg grey: simple, cheap, huge, ikea'd to fuck. i do love ikea.

he calls the sibs a tribute band which is harsh. even for a scandi, it's fucking harsh.

anyway, SAUNA! SAUNA! SAUNA!

GERRI. IN. SAUNA! (chant with me)

i will never forget what the succession writers took from me.

krank out here just chilling.

i've never shipped anyone more.

we are introduced to ebba. i can tell i'd have more to say on this in any other situation, but it just feels weird (all norwegian know each other, i guess).

anyone else here for the shiv/mattson dynamic?

i'm sorry, i kind of ship it????

ken wants to tank the deal and roman immediately calls him out on his destructive bullshit:

and then immediately caves.

"i think we are good at running the ship" they say after doing it for approximately 24 hours.

i wish i had their confidence.

also, pinky can't dance, according to ken, so they keep shiv out. meanwhile, she gets cozy with lukas, who asks her about her marriage (bad) and tells her he sends liters of blood to ebba (also bad).

shiv shows us why she is paid the big bucks for political advice:

we don't see the end of their night, so i'm just going to assume they fucked. because she's worth it.

also, talking up gerri and karolina? girlies stick together<3

big bi vibes here. huge. idc if she's pregnant and drinking.

meanwhile, the CE-bros use greg to leak that the negotiations are souring. why would you trust greg with anything?

in an attempt to fuck the deal, the CE-bros show a terrible film to the swedish team, as if being scandi doesn't mean you've sat through enough terrible cinema already....

we get the strangest fight in tv history:

lol @ us for thinking this was an important moment for the two of them and then it's a fight about white sneakers and fat earlobes.

i sure hope shiv fucked lukas.

roman receives a photo of his dead dad and it doesn't really put him in the right place to negotiate with mattson:

ouch.

leave it to kieran to make an emmy-worthy speech across from alex skarsgaard peeing.

the plan was: tank the deal, but in a subtle way. what they did: try and tank the deal, but in a not very subtle way. did the deal tank: no.

i hope you understand.

the question is, if a deal collapses in the woods and no one hears it, is it a SEC violation?

mattson ends up offering 192 per share. karl jizzes his pants.

shiv gives the little spelunker tom a lil treat, telling him to fire cyd.

then she asks him out?

and ignores him again because she is taking a call from mattson?

idk my dudes, but i'm into this shiv comeback.

mattson seems happy and flirty and i sure as shit hope this goes somewhere.

as long as it doesn't involve liters of frozen blood.

i have a feeling it will be all good vibes until he learns about her pregnancy. there's always something rotten in the state of denmark (or norway, or sweden, but it's all the same).

the waystar-team receives the kill list after the offer and it's very stressful for a few people who made themselves suffer through a session in the sauna:

not on the kill list: karolina gerri tom because shiv fucking did the thing!!

oh, and karl and frank are on the kill list, but i think they are just fine.

maybe the real treasure was the compression socks we made along the way.

[semi-sketchy]

For an update (mostly) meant to flesh out the Ancients/The End, they still seem not all that memorable or compelling from what little I've seen. They're just as much as plot devices masquerading as (bland) characters as Sage still is. The plot EXPECTS me to care, but I just cannot because the lore/exposition in this game is soooo dull when it's not wholly confusing. And I gotta ask, is any of it gonna matter in future games? Does anyone really approve of this shite whilst still bemoaning how unnecessarily convoluted Shadow's backstory was? That for a supposed big threat, it all still took place on some small-scale remote islands? This stuff should begging for a retcon. Guess that'll be up to me. Hint: Fairy dust made it all seem real to both the heroes and Eggman. And the Kocos are Accidental Antagonists to have put them through all of it because they don't remember their true history on the islands...

The question of which ending is canon is up for debate, but personally I think this one is going to cause more problems long-term. I literally started yelling at the side story when Sage said the Ancients had satellites that are still functional.

Tens of thousands of years old, still orbiting, functional, and NO ONE HAS NOTICED THEM? This is the world that had a SPACE COLONY 50 YEARS AGO and they NEVER asked what these old satellites were?? Like man, if we discovered ancient satellites circling our planet, there would be some paranormal podcasts talking about this "unknown" and obscure fact, but here no one has noticed?

Also extremely disappointed they did nothing to expand on The End. If anything, this is regression from base game because it's missing that pretentious speech. I wanted to know WHY this consumer of worlds was specifically chasing the Ancients. If it's just supposed to be symbolic, then that was completely lost on me.

I'm with you on the not being able to care part. I'm not bonded to these characters and the short cutscenes around the trials doesn't change anything about the pilots. It's just "WE DIED TO CONTAIN THIS THING AND YOU SET IT FREE-- oh you passed my brute strength trial. K guess you're a good guy." Sonic gets some sass with the King Koco, but it also feels...off. It's not his normal disrespect towards authority.

To go on another tangent, the opening cutscene bothers me.

Sonic isn't the person to give a "rally the troops" speech. Although, how this scene was written made that direction the ONLY way it could've gone.

I think of the Last Story cutscene from Heroes. Sonic just listens.

When he says he'll fight Metal Overlord, it's Tails and Knuckles that pop up to say "we're going to help you!" and Shadow that says they'll buy them time.

Sonic doesn't ask anything from anybody, he just graciously accepts their help. Compare how this was written to sticking Sonic in a place where he's the one who has to explain what's going on and tell others what he needs.

It's a case where the plot moves the characters and not the characters moving the plot, which is the perfect storm for OOC moments. That is exactly what happened with Eggman when they decided Sage was a good idea.

Sage just regurgitates random info about rocks and other stuff no one asked about, like there was ONE LINE where she sounded kinda different which made me think it would've been so good if Sage was more like GLaDOS. I want her to have more sick burns. But no, innocent child because Eggman "needs" a daughter and Sonic has to have a reason to help the girl that's been trying to kill him the whole game.

I don't understand how anyone can call this "peak" because it's just so self-important and straight-faced serious, it's at the point of monotony. It breaks what I like about these characters to wrap them up in a "serious story" blanket whilst failing to properly build up the threat.

I hope they reevaluate their choices and this isn't really the standard moving forward because it's so stupid it hurts. And that's just the story/lore.

[ro-botany]

It has come to my attention that today is

♠️ Ace Day ♠️

And in honour of my being way too obsessed with the man, I will award a character the highest honour I can bestow:

Frederick Fire Emblem is acespec and you can't change my mind. He may be demi, may be gray, may be garden variety ace, but either way he's on the ace spectrum.

As evidence, I offer you a read more with quotes:

Fred's supports with Olivia...

Olivia: No, I'm not talking about being a soldier. What I mean is...What do you think of me as a woman? Frederick: Do I find you attractive? Is that your meaning? Olivia: I suppose so, yes. Frederick: Hmm... A difficult question, if I may speak bluntly. I'd not thought of you in such terms before, and so cannot provide a meaningful answer.

Frederick: I must say, milady, having spent so much time with you recently, I... Well, I am starting to see why the others found you so charming. Olivia: Y-you are? Frederick: Yes, I am. Olivia: Erm, I don't suppose you could tell me exactly what you like about me? [...] Frederick: May I have time to put it into words? My feelings on the subject are still...vague.

...In which Fred is completely unaware of the supposed charms of a dancer widely regarded to be quite attractive, until he really gets to know her and thinks Really hard about it.

And also, his early Chrom supports...

Frederick: [...] Ah, and one final thing: I've taken measures to raise troop numbers and morale. I had an artisan create posters emblazoned with your noble image. It's milord in a bold pose - naked, save a scale in one hand and a sword in the other. And at your feet, I scrawled our new recruiting motto: "Chrom Wants You!" I had them pinned inside each and every tent. Surely the troops will be thrilled to rally behind their common leader, milord. Chrom: ...Wait. You did what?! In whose... You hung this pict... In EVERYONE'S tent?! Frederick: No need for thanks, milord. Merely doing my duty. And that concludes my report. Rest well, sire! Chrom: F-Frederick! Wait! We really need to... talk. ...Oh, gods.

Frederick: My deepest apologies, milord. Had I known you'd run from tent to tent rending the posters, I never would have— Chrom: Gods, I've never been so embarrassed in all my days! My sister nearly pulled a muscle laughing!

...In which Fred appears to be completely, hilariously oblivious to the connotations of a naked poster captioned that the subject "wants you". Classic fire emblem hyperbolization of the classic ace unawareness of the preoccupation with and importance of sex in the rest of the world's minds. He's genuinely sorry afterward, it apparently just didn't cross his mind that that is not inspiring in the way he expects.

Look into your heart, reader, you know this to be true. This man is ace.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 4/4/2023

the semi-triumphant return of the making section

listening

my ugly by cloudfodder. i spent a lot of this weekend muttering "six feet down bad for me" bc its a fun phrase. a voice similar to cosmo sheldrake, sleeker and more rollicking baseline but similar vibes to the doors' people are strange.

also: shostakovich's jazz suite no. 2, specifically the famous waltz 2. i'd never listened to the whole suite in one sitting (or at all), and it got me through an extremely tedious afternoon of scheduling calendar reminders for various grants. one reminder a month out, one reminder two weeks out, one reminder the day it's due. for every quarterly and annual report, all of which run on different quarterly and annual schedules. out to 2027.

my ugly is from last week's discover playlist i never got around to listening to but did archive, and i could not tell you what led me to shostakovich.

-

reading

more vampire private detective fiction. i'm sort of amazed this is a little subgenre of its own? like the kate kane books, raylene pendle's adventures are simply fun nonsense. if you liked the underworld movies, or van helsing, or any of that flavor of mid aughts gritty but opulent fantasy, you may like these books.

a side note: it was slightly jarring to read a book with s drag queen where the drag queen is kind of a distraction? he's a whole guy with his own subplots going on, but the books are also like...WOW look at THIS fun novelty!!! we hang out with a drag queen!!! let's have a long internal discussion about what pronouns to use when but not actually ask the drag queen about preferred situational pronouns! i think this is mostly a the times they are a-changin' deal, bc this was published in 2010 and i do not remember running into that with any of priest's other books. it feels mostly well-meaning, if a little back-patting at times.

this is also a very rare reread, i read these fairly close to when they were published bc i was working at my local library devouring like four books a week.

-

watching

i have a few words to say about s2 of s/tar wars' the ba/d batch and then we'll get on to a movie i actually enjoyed watching. if this were not star wars i would have stopped watching a year ago. HOWEVER. episodes 7 & 8 of s2 are just like. two normal clone wars episodes dropped in??? there's some juicy juicy coruscanti politics and a lot about clone rights as the empire decides to make the switch from clones to conscripted troops? we hang out at the clone bar 79's for a bit??? it's just a shockingly competent pair of episodes compared to the rest of them.

the italian job (1969, dir. collison) is a movie i would call stylish (derogatory) bc it really is just a movie about the spectacle of the car chase. i am saddened to report i had a delightful fucking time, bc the part of my brain that likes experiencing g-forces went heheehoohooo zippy corners. i am aware the mini cooper is a competent sports and rally car, but something about multiples of a very small car absolutely hauling ass...this movie is not afraid to get silly with it. i have almost nothing to say about this movie except i had a good time nearly every minute.

im always really annoyed when a movie a man has given me a nonconsensual 2+ hour seminar about is 1) nice to look at and 2) actually fun.

watched the b/ad batch bc i Must watch anything s/tar wars as an elaborate form of self harm, and the italian job was bc i have kanopy credits to burn and wanted to watch a silly action movie while i ate dinner.

-

playing

still fucking around in Weird West. got my husband back, which seems to be the worst outcome? fascinating!!! leaving him in a cage for two months while i leveled up and gained cathartic revenge for our son by systematically wiping out an entire gang until i was strong enough to storm the abandoned mine and kill the leader, freeing my husband, seems to not have given him very much catharsis. funny how that happens. i wonder if his dialogue changes depending on how fast you rescue him.

this game had some folks who worked on dishonored. you motherfuckers. all these screenshots are cropped to hell bc i really want to draw attention to the characters and not the vast expanses they are standing in.

three more things: you play through five different storylines. on the first run through with the revenge-seeking bounty hunter, i bought a horse. a very nice horse! coal black no markings. they gave me a different fucking horse. where is my old horse??? is she okay???

anyway im a pig man now. ran into a mandatory stealth mission which has really stopped me dead, bc this pig man comes with a shotgun and all his abilities are tank abilities. im sure if i actually attempt the mission it is not that difficult. but i wanna use my shotgun. the game got me so hype to tank through some stuff, bc the previous bounty hunter was a very good midrange allrounder type of lady. which is good and fine to introduce you to the game, and i had a lot of fun playing her, but she was not well suited to the shotgun (my beloved).

and sorry the what now

-

making

experiments with bleach and shirts thereof. i got this clearance rack longsleeved tee at target for four of the king's own dollars, sometime between my last big trip to the laundromat and thursday, when i did laundry and remembered this shirt existed. it's not a very good shirt, the cuffs are awful and there's a weird seam up the entire center back. i dont feel bad about destroying it.

did some graffiti from the Lonesome Road f/allout new vegas dlc up both sleeves, and i'm fairly pleased with the effect. it's graffiti, it's supposed to be sloppy. i am inordinately pleased with the inner curve of the "u" in "courier" bc i just freehanded it with a half inch chip brush and some halfhearted tailors chalk marking my letter spacing.

my original jug of bleach from when i moved into the woods apartment in the fall of 2020 had somehow gone off, bc it was not bleaching. luckily i had a second backup bottle of bleach bc in november i forgot i already owned a bottle of bleach. this is one of the rare times adhd has worked out for me.

the process for this was not fancy or complicated. i stenciled all the stars with leftover contact paper: held it up to my laptop screen, lightly traced with a pencil, and then hacked away at it with a box cutter. i probably would have been perfectly fine freehanding it bc bleach and graffiti are very forgiving of shaky hand sins. but a bitch is anxious. a bitch loves stencils.

i had to go back and touch up the smaller stars bc i oversaturated the fabric with the dead bleach and lost all the detail. bleach pens apparently cannot be had for love or money around here. “homemade” bleach pens are apparently just cornstarch and bleach, which seemed not reactive enough and i already had cornstarch. i did not have a little squeeze bottle but i did have a wide assortment of cheap synthetic paintbrushes i don’t care about so i did a 1:1 mix in the bottom of a beaker and freehanded that on. didn't really need the cornstarch and it really hindered the "how long do i leave this on" question, i would have been fine freehanding straight bleach onto bone-dry fabric.

it is doubtful i will wear this out in public, bc the distressed flag imagery in these specific colors really brings a sort of republican biker aesthetic i don't care for. i am fascinated at the possibilities of literally painting a little scene with bleach but it's kind of high stakes and idk there's an #iconic enough scene in lonesome road to do that with. i am thinking about a doing a big sierra madre chip on the front and fucking around with some shading? stay tuned.

[robthegoodfellow]

summer retrospective time because i'm feeling down about term starting up and not writing as much as i wanted to but I KNOW this is ridiculous and my goals were unreasonable.

so totally unasked for and unprompted here's what i got:

Chapters 8 and 9 of Upside-Down - 32k (total wip 118k) - E - Harringrove - Crazy long March chapter wherein an ominous phone rings and rings, Billy experiences some firsts (first time playing D&D against his will! first time fucking Steve! first time enduring a birthday party!), and Eddie drags Billy to a thrash metal concert. In Flayedville, the kids rally the troops to save Billy, he and Steve share body heat, and plans don't go as planned.

Two fics written for upcoming @strangerthingscharityzine totaling 4k words in their original state, trimmed down to 1.5k words each for the zine edition. Idk if I'm allowed to summarize but one of them made Remy cry!

That Bartender Sure is Something - 1k - G - Harringrove - Sideways scene rewrite from alt character's POV wherein I try to lay groundwork for why Steve's parents are out of town so often (aside from my need to give boys safe space to fuck and be super freaking domestic).

Chapters 11 and 12 of Only One Bed - 13k (total wip 59k) - E - Harringrovesoningham or whatever Steve/Billy/Eddie/Chrissy is called - Chrissy POV and Eddie POV chapters wherein Chrissy and Billy bond and then Billy/Eddie/Chrissy navigate their dynamic as asymmetrical polyamorous triad. Mostly cute!! Minimal angst!!

¿Por qué no los dos? - 18k - E - Harringroveson/Metalsandwich - What was supposed to be an excuse to make Steve and Eddie thirst over Billy in space buns becomes unexpectedly harrowing exploration of aromantic experience for me and apparently others, some of whom may be entitled to compensation. But there's smut... at the end?

Drafted aaalmost first half (7k) of @bigbangharringrove fic wherein Steve flirts with necromancy and necrophilia and NO STOP where are you going it's all gonna be fine!!! See, Billy died in this contemporary fantasy version of Hawkins where magic and supernatural creatures are just kinda there and so Steve tries to revive him but he imports the wrong file. The wrong Billy. Because there happens to be a lust demon that goes by the same name as Steve's dearly departed husband and let me tell ya he is NOT jazzed to be here. Working with @LucaDoodleDoo who is awesome AND so far has not run away!

Drafted 1.5k of fic for upcoming @harringrovezine. Still on track to be way too long but I WILL trim it down. Not sure what else I'm free to say but I'm excited how it's shaping up?

what follows is me convincing myself i did a good job

And that's... that's it. About 76.5k in all. Which is more than I realized (and also according to haphazard math is more than last summer by maybe 10k?)

I'm not usually fixated on word count much (aside from like laugh-crying when a fic just balloons way bigger than anticipated), and more words does not equal better words by ANY means, but I think this gives me a reality check about getting down on myself. I didn't finish the major things I originally set out to finish but... yeah, such is life when you have more than one WIP in which you are painfully invested 😅

And it's not like I won't EVER finish them which is prob my biggest fear because i had a rep growing up for all my grand plans and projects just losing steam and going nowhere. But I am capable of finishing fics because look ma, there's 3 whole multi-chap fics with the little green check mark (please actually DON'T look, ma).

I'm just babbling now. When work starts I'll be back to writing in random libraries after last bell and my output will slow, and I'm sad about it. But wow you know what I did shit out a bunch of words in like 2.5 months so at least there's that.

(Hesitant to post this because I'm sure it looks like flexing or fishing or something? Or like I'm implying that unless you too are shitting out words you suck? Which uhh I am not! The intent is more for Present Me to flex on Past Me, maybe? And fish some reassurance out of cold hard numbers to more easily put things in perspective.)

Mostly this did work, though! I feel better about the summer. If you need a boost, look over what you've done across a certain span of time using whatever measurement suits you and talk yourself into a pat on the back.

Pat, pat.

[league-of-sam]

Catching A Ghost | Simon 'GHOST' Riley

Ghost x Reader

CHAPTER SEVEN

Simon 'GHOST' Riley x AFAB!Reader!OC 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

Catching A Ghost: Masterlist

The next few days, you almost forgot that you were in the middle of a special ops mission, that's how perfect life had been. 

Every now and then, Ghost had waited for you in the mornings, allowing you to join him on his runs.

Slowly, he'd been opening up to you a little more. 

Barely, but it was enough for the others to visibly notice a difference between the two of you – especially the few times they'd heard you call him Simon when you thought no one else could hear. 

He'd been helping you train, too, showing you control, but you still continued grinding his gears where you could. You'd not gotten back to wearing your mask just yet, but everyone had been encouraging and supportive.

But now, it was time to move on. 

Hassan was on the move, and Laswell wasted no time in rallying everyone together. There was no say in when she'd arrive with the new troops she'd mentioned, so now, you were all gathered in the HQ. 

Ghost stood over the maps with Price and Gaz. Soap, Alejandro, and Rudy were doing some target practise, leaving you back in the ring with Alex.

"Thanks for coming back in with me, Al." you said as you circled him.

"Not a problem, sweet cheeks," he whimpered, "just don't break my arm again."

"I won't." you giggled.

"So, what's going on with you and the L.T.?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You and Ghost, very cosy, huh?"

"N-no...I have no idea what you're talking about." You said, raising your fists to hide your face.

"Oh my god, (Y/N) Price, you have a crush on him too!"

"The fuck you mean, 'too'?"

"He likes you."

"No, he doesn't."

"Does too."

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut the fuck up."

He was about to open his mouth again, and so you rolled your eyes, lunging for the boy. 

He was so distracted from teasing you, he didn't even register your movements until he was on his back, winded. You pinned his arms to the floor, and then your head snapped up as you heard the cheers of your team celebrating your win.

Smiling, you whooped, throwing your arms in the air, giving Alex enough time to push you off him so you laid next to him, laughing.

"Gotcha."

"You cheated."

"Shouldn't have got so distracted taking the piss then, should you?"

Ghost yelled over a quick celebratory compliment, and immediately your face was red. 

"Oh my god, you really do like him."

"Shhhh! You can't tell anyone, I'm not ready, and I don't think he's the type of guy to do feelings."

"Cross my heart." Alex said, making the motion with his fingers.

The door hissed open then, and in came Laswell, with around 20 soldiers on her tail. 

They were wearing a dark uniform with helmets, and a light blue crest sat on their chests. 

Oh no. 

Your assumptions were deemed correct based on the empathetic, pleading look that Laswell threw to you as you stood up, pulling Alex to his feet also.

Price and Ghost noticed too, giving the others a small whistle, beckoning them to gather. Alex stood close behind you, the two of you still in the ring. The others got to the space in front of the ring, just in time for the final person to enter the room.

"Damn, 141! It's a mighty fine base y'all got yourselves here." Just like that, sauntering over to the group, was your ex-fiancé.

"This base is owned by Los Vaqueros." Your brother corrected, his tone harsh and hostile.

"Ah, Captain Price, pleasure to see you again."

"Wish I could say the same."

"Aw come on now, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"General Shepherd has ordered that the Shadow Company oversee this mission, and frankly, we need their expertise and their equipment." Laswell said before any more could ensue.

"Exactly. From here on out, we're a team. You need us."

"We don't need you." You spoke, deadpan.

"(Y/N)! Baby! There you are, been lookin' for you everywhere, princess. This is where you've been hiding from me?"

He turned to you, sauntering over as if he owned the place. 

You scowled, quickly looking to your team. 

Ghost's eyes were hard, his stare burning holes into the side of Graves' face. Soap was the same, and even Alejandro had scooched that little bit closer to you.

"Wasn't hiding, 'cause if I was, you wouldn't have been able to find me."

"Damn," Graves muttered, looking you up and down, licking his lips, "my little Reaper."

"I'm not yours anymore." You growled in a low voice, stepping forward.

"Stand down, L.T." Price whispered in your direction.

You looked down to where he was gesturing, and you'd barely even noticed that your hand had moved to the concealed dagger strapped to your thigh. 

Clearly, Graves was getting under your skin more than you cared to admit.

"If you say so." Graves waved you off, looking you up and down intensely. "Surprised you're even back in there."

"She's a damn good fighter." Gaz jumped to your defence.

"Better than him?" one of the Shadows said, pointing to Ghost.

No one answered, and Graves let out a cocky chuckle, "Course not, that's the big bad Ghost right there, boys. Legendary."

"Graves." Ghost grunted.

"Pleasure to see you again, lieutenant."

"With all due respect, which is none, watch your mouth, Commander." Alex said, moving to stand level with you, pulling you into his side.

"Keller...wow, should'a known she'd run straight to you." Graves scoffed as he looked at you.

"He's my best friend." you said, spitting venom.

Ghost stepped forward, then, nodding his head to switch places with Alex. 

Every person watched in silence as he stepped into the ring with you, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it aside.

"Let's go, L.T."

"What?"

"You 'n' me, now, let's go."

"You won't let me win this time?" you whispered, desperate to not be embarrassed again.

"Promise."

"This should be good." One of the Shadow soldiers murmured.

"Alright." You said, and pulled the knife from its hiding place, launching it across the room without looking, "no weapons."

Eyes followed it as it skimmed Graves' face by barely a centimetre, flying through the air to hit the target on the other side of the room, right in the bullseye. Impressed whistles sounded from the Shadow soldiers, while Soap and Alejandro gave Graves a knowing smirk. 

You smirked too, knowing that looked badass.

Graves looked at you, jaw hung wide, "Are you mentally deficient?!" he screeched. "You could've just took my fuckin' head off."

"If I were mentally deficient, I would've missed," you said, squatting down to his level, "Check that out, bullseye."

Snickers rang around the room at your response, the Shadows marvelling at your skill and attitude towards their commander.

With a nod, you and Ghost began sparring, and then it turned into a full on combat session. Punches were thrown and missed on both sides. 

He really wasn't letting you win this time. 

It continued for a good ten minutes, before he managed to get the better of you, getting you into a headlock.

"Put on the mask." He grunted to you, holding your head under his arm.

"What? No!"

"Do it, Price. You're holdin' back. I can take it. Put it on."

With that, he tossed you backwards into the ropes, and you staggered, barely keeping yourself upright. 

Looking around, you took in the faces. 

The Shadows had the same cocky grin that Graves wore, satisfied that you were losing, and anger boiled within you. 

No, he will not have this power over you. 

You are good enough.

Ghost came to you, dragging you up to his chest by your tank top, "Put it on, and show that prick wha' ya made of."

"I can't." you whispered, looking into his eyes.

"You can. Go as hard as you can on me, I'll tap you three times here when it's over." He said, two fingers pressing into the side of your thigh.

"You trust me? After what you saw?"

Ghost looked at you for a moment, before answering, "With my life."

Fighting the smile desperate to break free, you separated, walking to your corner. You made eye contact with Price and Laswell, who nodded to you. 

With a flick of your hair, you placed the mask on your face. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath; now was the time to prove yourself. 

Snapping your eyes open, you turned swiftly, the speed of your movements taking everyone by surprise, and you lunged at Ghost.

Your eyes were wild, your hair was messy, and your forehead was laced with sweat. 

Yet, there you were, straddling Ghost's chest with your forearm pressed harshly into his neck. Your knees held his arms tight to his side, and his hands sat lightly on the side of your thigh.

Pinned.

One tap. Two taps. Three taps.

Release.

You did it. You didn't lose control, and you won. 

You beat the Ghost on your own, and in front of everyone.

"That's fucking it, Reaper! That's my bloody girl!" Price screamed, swinging his fists in the air as Gaz started off the applause.

You looked up, smiling under the mask as you looked to your team. 

They were fucking proud of you, and you were fucking proud of yourself. You threw your arms up, whooping, which only egged the boys on more. 

Looking to your right, you saw Laswell, smiling proudly to you nodding her head, and next to her, Graves pouted. That gave you a rush of confidence and satisfaction; you'd proven him wrong, so wrong.

Distracted, Ghost looked up at you, still held down by you straddling his chest. 

His lips curling upward slightly under his mask, he planted his hands on the ground, pushing himself up. You yelped, tipping backwards, but his hands fastened quickly behind your back, letting your legs only drop as far as his waist. With almighty strength, he now had you both upright.

Your hands gripped his muscled shoulders to keep yourself up, and his large hands were still cupping your thighs, keeping your legs tightly locked over his hips. Your back was arched, chest pressed against chest. 

He held you like it was nothing; you looked fucking tiny clinging onto him, and God, he liked it. 

He groaned quietly, enough for you not to hear him over the sound of your quickened breathing, and set you on your feet gently, stepping back from you.

"Nice work, Reaper." He said, his voice low and husky.

"T-thanks." You stuttered, breath betraying your beating heart.

Ghost nodded, then exited the ring, holding the ropes open for you to follow. A quick glance around the room told you that everyone was just as thrown by Ghost's actions as you were. With a deep exhale and a shake of your head, you followed. 

Waiting to pull you into their arms when you dropped down was Laswell.

"Well done, sweetheart." She whispered into your ear.

"Thanks, ma." You whispered back.

You'd gotten into the habit of jokingly calling her that a few years back, after she completely lost it when you got hurt on a mission. She was just like a mother bear protecting her cub, yelling at anyone who tried to stop her from coming to your aid. Now, she really was like your mother. You and Price had been alone in life for years, so it was nice to have a parental figure again.

"Right, we get it. She's amazing." Graves rolled his eyes. "But we have a mission to get to, in case you forgot."

"You were always one to rush things, weren't you, Phillip?" you said, and it made his soldiers chuckle.

Shooting his team a deadly glance, he stepped close to you, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, princess."

"Mmm, I think you do."

"You never seemed to mind." He bit back. 

Brave.

"Sure... how's Elena, by the way?" you smirked.

Graves' face went a pale white then. 

It was obvious now that he thought he'd gotten away with his infidelity. 

But no – you knew, and you sure as hell weren't letting it go.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" he said, changing the subject with an awkward laugh and a rub to the back of his neck.

Yes, let's.

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

Hi, I have huge gratitude and admiration for your posts and updates on OFMD, I always find them so comforting and informative! Especially as I'm only on Reddit and got a Tumblr account 4 days ago to keep track of OFMD (Twitter/X is just too overwhelming for me lol). What was your take on Rhys Darby's Cameo video in regards to making you feel more hopeful/less hopeful/neither but it was still lovely? With the deafening silence from David Jenkins and worrying that the morale is dropping, it's irresistible not to start feeling a bit of doom, you know? Any response appreciated, but regardless, thank you so much for the work you're doing ❤️

Hello my dear! Welcome to tumblr, we're so glad to have you! I really should get on reddit sometime (I get notifications when certain posts get busy but I just always forget to check them). I totally get that Twitter is overwhelming, it's a tornado of information--and thank you! I'm so glad you're getting something out of the updates!

My take on the Rhys Darby cameo, ay? Well I'll be honest, I thrive on even a little bit of feedback so I was 100% pumped after that yesterday. It sounds silly but I went and cried in the shower for 20 mins because I was feeling torn between the sadness for Rhys and what he lost and was feeling and then also the beautifully kind and positive advice he was giving us.

After that-- I basically felt like someone called Gondor for aid and I was a raging pile of need for action. I actually feel more hopeful now, but I think Rhys has that affect on people. Like that man could tell me the sky was blue and I'd grin like a toddler with a lollipop and nod and feel like I could take on the day.

I do totally get that doom and gloom feeling that comes with the silence. We need that feedback from the people we're fighting for to keep morale up. That being said though--- I've noticed a trend over the past few weeks since cancellation, and that is that when we start feeling down, someone in the cast/crew starts poking their nose out. Usually its Chaos Dad (David Jenkins) but all of a sudden when things are slowing down again this week, Rhys puts himself up on Cameo, two days before the UK launch of s2? I just don't believe in coincidences in most cases, especially when we're all watching things so closely. It may make me sound like a conspiracy theorist but I do truly believe that a huge chunk of the cast and crew is watching our actions and reactions to things very carefully (Hell, Alex Sherman is over on twitter liking a bunch of fan art and porn, so at least we have our little perverted guardian angel!). They just seem to keep popping up at the exact right moments to help rally the troops for them not to be.

The difficulty with negotiations in any industry is the whole Non Disclosure Agreement that comes along with people potentially taking on new clients/funding new projects. Legitimately, there could be a contract in the works right now with a network and we already have our s3, but we just can't know about it because that would damage / threaten negotiations. It could be the other way too, but with how supportive Chaos Dad and Rhys and the rest of the crew have been just popping in and out like little bubbles of positivity, I really feel like we have still have some hope here. It's just really hard to be patient when we're all pushing so hard-- which is why breaks are so important. Anywhoooo, I've had my coffee so I'm obviously rambling at this point-- thank you so much dear for writing into me! I hope that answers your question... I am feeling overwhelmingly positive after Rhys' videos and feeling very mama bear on wanting to protect that man by doubling down on efforts, lol. So glad you're will us on tumblr friend! Always feel free to reach out :D <3<3<3 Ty!

[invisiblegarters]

Dangerous Romance Ep 10

Last week, Kang tried to get dad's attention and rebel or something by running away, which he apparently does all the time so dad wasn't too fussed. Plus he had Sailom reporting back. Kang sold his bike for funds after dad froze his card, and then had regrets. He was forced to beg in order to get it back and I was supposed to feel bad I'm sure but I'm heartless and also apparently still sour about the bullying in the beginning so I didn't. Kang and Sailom did the do and I failed to feel any kind of way about it.

For the first time ever I have caught second couple syndrome and spent the whole time chanting at Nawa and Guy to make out already. They did not, but they did go on a bike ride to save their friends that they gave up on eventually because they got lost. The brain trust, these two are not.

Meanwhile, Saifah and Name had a little heart to heart and Saifah got Name a job driving Kang's dad around. I'm sure nothing bad will come of that at all.

And now on with the show! What will today bring and will I care? I'll probably care a little.

Ooh scent kink.

I do like how much Sailom likes teasing Kang. And ah, yes, the good old mosquito bite. What would we do without it.

Honeymoon my foot Sailom says with the imprint of Kang's mouth visible on his neck for anyone to see. Come on my guy.

Oh Saifah no. Honey I get that you are way sweeter than I expected. but please stop trusting - oh did you have a crush on Name? That's adorable. But please stop being stupid.

Trust no one in this show. Except Sailom because he's the best. And Auto, my beloved.

Oh. Oh, maybe it'll be the boss that fucks it up and not Name. Either way Saifah is so screwed.

I feel like people keep being sweeter than I expect.

KNEW IT. Of course the boss knew.

Also ew get those bloody meaty hands off of his face that's gross. And then he touches the damn meat again. Nope. Would not be eating dinner with him.

Pfft like father like son, I guess. Is dad gonna wind up being decent too in the end? Man all my suspicion of everyone is coming to absolutely nothing. Maybe I should watch The Player after this. I hear it has the double and triple crossing I crave. I want to trust no one!

Oh hey is dad gonna go see Kang's game? Look at this.

Tread carefully here Sailom.

Drama! Guy is hurt. Careful Nawa you're running the risk of looking concerned. And Kang gets to get over his issues with penalty shots. I wonder if Saifah will tell him about his dad. Those two need to have a talk already.

Ah, so that explains why Kang gets so weirdly tense when his dad finds him messing around or not studying hard enough. But of course now he thinks his dad has given up. Maybe find a happy medium, dude. I really don't think that your wife meant let him do whatever whenever.

Oh NO. Dad surprised a burglary in progress eh? Saifah what did you do? I no longer believe that it was entirely you so what happened? And where is Name? Fled the scene huh?

I have no doubt that Dad will wake up. But it would be kind of interesting if he didn't. Way too bleak for this show though.

Aw okay that's sweet and supportive.

Well now that Saifah confessed I am more sure than ever that it isn't what it looks like, haha.

Haha that didn't last long. Man, it wasn't even Sailom who brought him into the house, it was grandma. SO much for all that support. Why is this so funny to me? I am a horrible person.

Oh look, it's Flashback's Triumphant Return. I did not miss you, Flashback. The show has been so good about their use of them lately that I got complacent. And now look at us. Here we are, and no one is happy. Not me, not Sailom, I'm assuming not Kang. Definitely not me.

WOW Name. Now I know you're the actual problem.

Pfft okay I kind of love how they just forgot about Guy. Granted there was a bit of a situation at home.

AW look at the troops all rallied. They're such sweeties. But uh, I'm pretty sure a confession means jail time regarless of lawyers, no?

Oh no! Isn't Guy on a scholarship for football? What happens to that if he can't play?

The way I am feeling these two, though. Every time that they interact I perk up.

SAILOM.

Sailom what are you doing. Don't do it, kiddo.

Okay I do not like Name. I take back anything nice I might have said about him. Also that watch is totally the one that Kang's dad already gave Saifah. I would bet money on it.

Listen to grandma kid. She gets it. She's a lot smarter than you.

"Poor people will do anythign for money." This coming from a guy who has watched Sailom actively not do things for money over and over again. I know Kang's upset but he's also a lot less likable without Sailom. Not sorry.

Oooh return of the escorting plot! YAY.

Huh. I am actually really curious as to why Saifah is taking the blame for this. Because I don't believe for one second he shot Kang's dad. Also I bet the reason Name's so concerned is because he did it, and dad knows that.

I mean I did see the preview, but even if I hadn't I would have known that this dude totally roofied the wine. Oh, Sailom.

And of course Kang is gonna take his ire out on Sailom.

Yes, you stupid shit. You kicked him out of your house and fired him, what the fuck do you expect. Like come on dude I know thinking isn't your strongest suit but do try it.

Hm. That last scene did not hit me like I think it was supposed to. Dammit. Why do these big scenes keep not working for me?

I guess next week Kang's back to letting Sailom think for him. Good. It's better for all of us when he does.

In conclusion, if Nawa and Guy don't make out by the end of this I will be mightily displeased.

[cheesewritings]

Chapter 3: We Gotta Get The Gang Back Together

Summary: Reconnecting with family, shared memories, and secrets that cannot be revealed quite yet.

Warnings: shitty military knowledge, Dustin reliving his trauma, language

Eowyn was up at 0400 to go for a run. When something is a part of your daily life for so long, you tend to have to do it every day in order to function. She runs 3 miles and heads back to the cabin and into the old woodshed looking for the familiar punching bag. She checks her watch for time since they're set to leave soon before she begins the familiar sets. An hour later, panting and out of breath she hears the door open and despite knowing it's someone familiar takes a fighting stance. "Nice form kid." her uncle states. "Thanks Unc. Gotta keep training even when I'm not at Delta base." she responds. Jim sees the familiar look in her eyes and begins to grow worried that his niece has seen things far beyond what her age can comprehend. "If you ever need to talk you know you can come to me" he tells her. "I know. This is my first big mission. Most of my orders have been small things like recon and surveillance, but given how close I am to the situation and how close you all are, Dad wants me to take a leadership role." she says. Jim understands, knowing his brother wouldn't dare risk his daughters life for something trivial, remembering the day she was born. Jim remembers the promise Eli made to Eowyn as he held her in the hospital room, not knowing he was there, "Even if you grow to be a badass, you won't have to go through hell without me." "Well kiddo we're loading things up to head out just give me the coordinates and we can swap who drives lead." Jim says. "Thanks. But first I gotta shower. I feel like a swamp demon" she declares.

After a much-needed shower, Eowyn throws her go bag in the back of her jeep. Her uncle has loaded up his bronco with his, El, and the Byer's equipment. Argyle has loaded up his weird hippie van with everyone else’s. "Alright guys… It's roughly a 8-10 hour drive depending on traffic and other things so be prepared. We radio if we must stop for bathrooms, fuel, or snackage. Channel 13." She gives everyone the necessary information when a familiar truck pulls into the driveway. "I hope I’m not late?" comes the voice of Wayne Munson. "You're right on time Corporal. We're just syncing up the radios and heading out." Eowyn answers. "Mr. Munson? You're coming with us?" Dustin Henderson asks. "Well kid, I felt like lacing up the boots one last time…to honor Eddie." he responds, looking at Eowyn with a knowing glance. "Henderson, do you want to ride with me for the first leg of the trip?" Eowyn asks. "Sure…. the last time I saw you I was like 8 so it'll be good to catch up." he responds. The group collectively loads into their vehicles and begin the long trek to the base.

The group is now 6 hours into their journey and Eowyn glances over to Dustin, "hey kid…..tell me about Eddie. I know you're wanting to talk about him." "Eddie was the guy I never really knew I needed. I had Steve, and my other friends but Eddie was just….Eddie. He wasn't afraid to be himself. He always took in those of us who looked lost to make sure we had a friend. He called us his little sheepies. When he…..when he died he told me that it was my responsibility now. To take care of the sheepies. But I don't know if I can live up to Eddie. I never even saw him get mad. Even when the worst was happening." Dustin looks sad as he tells Eowyn the story she already knows the other side of. "Dustin….you are a leader in your own right. You helped rally the troops when everything seemed to go to shit, from what I've heard. You've got plans, ideas, and the confidence needed to get those plans off the ground. Eddie would be so proud of you." she responds. "You have grown up so much since I last saw you. You're not the little 8 year old kid who wanted to watch cartoons and snuggle on the couch anymore. You're no longer my squishy." "Squishy?" Dustin looks at her remembering the nickname but just now realizing where it came from. "When you were little I called you squishy because you didn't have collarbones. When you were born, you were extra squishy because of your cheeks and that's what I called you."

“Echo this is Bravo..requesting a stop for relief. Over.” Eowyn and Dustin hear over the radio. “Bravo this is Echo. Stop granted. Rest area approximately 2 miles ahead. Over.” She responds. The team pulls off the highway into a secluded rest stop, and while everyone conducts their business, Eowyn shifts the radio in her jeep to channel 6. “Delta this is Echo. We are approximately 3 hours out from base. Over.” She says. She waits patiently for a response. “Echo this is the Puppet Master at Delta Base, is the adventuring party in tow?” a familiar voice responds. “Puppet Master, the adventuring party has no idea of your status so continue to lay low or you can sleep on level 3 without me, but yes…they are with me.” She snips back. “Not level 3 alone! See you in 3 hours, Echo. Delta Base, out” he replies dramatically. Eowyn switches the radio back to channel 13 before anyone else returns. Upon everyone’s return, Steve asks if he can ride with Eowyn so they can talk. Dustin migrates to Steve's car with Nancy at the wheel and hops into Eowyn's jeep.

"Why?" comes a voice just a few miles down the highway. "Why'd you leave?" Eowyn contemplates her answer for a minute before she sighs. "Apparently Dad's been part of this organization since 'Nam. Uncle Jim didn't know about it but Dad was recruited for his leadership skills and tactical expertise. You know I grew up doing martial arts and shit? Well turns out dad took notice and wanted me to help train recruits when I got old enough. We left so I could go to military school." Steve nodded slowly. "This isn't a I was born to fight in a war situation Steve. This is a I'm a very skilled individual and the government would rather have me as an asset than an enemy. That's what the coalition is." she finishes. "So you sort of didn't have a choice in the matter?" he asks. "I mean it was more of a which military school do you want to go to because we're leaving Indiana either way thing." Steve just nods. "Well for the record I missed my friend slash annoying sister I never asked for." Eowyn just chuckles. "Oh before I forget, I did stock up on some necessities before we left the Hoosier state." Eowyn holds up a can of Ski and offers it to Steve. "I haven't had this since we were kids." he says. "Me either. So of course I got like 12 cases" They both laugh as the trip continues on. Crossing state line after state line until they finally cross over into rural Virginia. Just beyond the horizon sits the compound that the entire group will soon know as their home.