#maybe we should stick to one LI per book

[griffinsboyfriend]

Idc if it’s spoilers but as a VIP user I feel I have to say. With just 2 chapters of TDG: PB still doesn’t know how to manage multiple LI.

[ellavatorz]

Fear Me || c.b. x reader

prompt: Colby is there for you when the Stanley hotel becomes too much.

tw/cw: violence, angst-y(?), mainly cute protective colby.

photo is not mine, found on Pinterest

a/n: this is for @tealeyewonder, ty for requesting this! it was fun to write & I hope you enjoy <3

*

It wasn’t long after you all had arrived that shit began to happen. In fact, it took exactly five minutes into filming for Amanda, Mackie and yourself to begin hesitating in proceeding with the investigation.

The guys—per usual—begged for you all to stick around just “a little longer!” And so here you five were; vibrating with adrenaline and high off of the aura that the hotel room reeked in.

“Colbs, I’m serious. Are you sure we should continue?” you and colby are isolated from the others, pressed against the entrance, just outside of the shared—and one of the infamously haunted—room 428.

He reaches a hand into your hair and tugs a lock behind your ear, breaking the silence with a gentle and monosyllabic “it’s fine.”

With an eye roll, you shovel your hands into the depths of your jacket’s pockets and drill your gaze into him. Seemingly prepared for your rebuke, Colby proceeds with a cautionary voice.

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, okay? It’ll just be for a few more hours and then if you really want to, we can find another hotel nearby and book it. Free of ghosts, alright?”

Sighing in defeat, you settle for his reassurance and choose to remain as calm as you can for the rest of the night in the hotel—albeit still littered with deafening ghost trails and paranormal activity.

*

Colby’s voice resonates around the room as he recites an excerpt from some sort of yelp review left by previous guests of the hotel. The girls and yourself huddle together in front of where he sits on the mattress, watching and listening intently.

“It’s said for a male entity to lean over female guests and..” he quirks a brow and chuckles before continuing, “tries to kiss them.”

“What?” You blurt, eyes enlarging in size before the other two girls are laughing. “Naughty ghosts!” You say jokingly.

“Maybe we should dress up as girls tonight?” Colby jokes, and you all begin to feel the air purify it’s way into peace as you continue.

Suddenly, you all decide to move toward the lone, dark and eerie corners of the Hotel, the staircase which is known for its Vortex.

There, Amanda retells a memory of having imagined an entity following Colby around. Shocked, you latch onto his arm and give him a shake.

“Shit, you’re gonna attract all the ghosts tonight!”

His face replicates mortification as the rest of you laugh cheerfully, silently wishing for the idea of your boyfriend having an attachment to fall through.

“There’s definitely someone here already but I can’t make out who it is exactly. They keep hiding behind the handrails.” Amanda states, pointing at the solid fixture just behind you and Colby. Mackey agrees with a hum and drags her gaze elsewhere.

“It feels.. strange.” You murmur, looking at yourself in the reflection of the mirrors. Colby appears behind you, circling your waist with his arms and smiling contently.

“Oh definitely, but look at how cute we look!”

“Colby.” You smack at his shoulder. “Really?”

“What? It’s true.”

“Alright I say we move back to the room and get some footage of the rem pod.” Sam appears from behind you two and the group agrees.

*

“Great,” colby says after he’s finished setting up the equipment. “Again, if anything comes and touches this device it’ll light up and make a bunch of noise.”

You all nod in understanding, deciding to stand a good distance away from the footing of the bed where the device lies. Instantly, the REM Pod goes off, the red light shining along with it.

“Hello?” Sam greets, mouth wide open in shock. “Do you recognize us? We’ve been here before..”

“Nah, he only cares about girls, man!” Colby jokes, though the device begins sounding off. The girls and yourself move back, stunned at the reaction.

“Holy shit, did it just agree with what you said?” You look over to Colby in surprise. He nods, just as startled as you.

“Do you like girls? Kissing them?” You ask, biting your lip in anxiousness.

The device goes off.

“Do you like us being here?” Amanda asks.

It’s silent.

The five of you share a look before Sam continues. “Can you do something to show us who you are? Are you Flora?”

You room stills, air suddenly thickening with something akin to a suffocating material being held against your face. You blanch are the feeling, trying your best to shake it off until there’s a bang just inches behind you.

The five of you turn in fear and you immediately dart to Colby’s side, feeling an intense amount of pressure in your head. “Okay guys, my head is seriously killing me.”

Mackie gasps, pointing a finger in your direction while moving closer to you. Colby wraps an arm around your middle, turning you to face him as he analyzes your features.

“Your nose is bleeding,” he notes aloud and you frown. “Are you okay?”

“No I just—I don’t know? I felt weird and then the noise happened.” You explain, holding a napkin to your nose that Mackie had gotten for you. Sam brings the camera close to your face, to which you scowl at.

“Dude, give me space will you?” You mutter and Sam apologizes, moving away and pointing the camera towards the other girls instead.

Colby worries his lip, chewing at the skin with a drive to settle his concern. You pat his shoulder, reassuring him that you’re fine.

The series of questions continue but still, your headache worsens and the air doesn’t feel any lighter.

“Did you follow us from somewhere else?” Sam questions. There’s a pregnant pause before the device begins going off. You make eye contact with Amanda as she steps forward to shut off the device.

“That’s enough,” she states firmly, eyeing the duo before requesting the cameras to be turned off. Sam agrees begrudgingly, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress along with Colby and Mackie. You and Amanda stand close, her hand wrapping around your wrist protectively.

“I don’t feel safe here anymore. I think we should take a break.” She says and Colby tilts his head, brows furrowed.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“There’s something here and I don’t want to talk about it.” Amanda huffs, looking towards the door. You distribute your weight from one foot to another anxiously.

“Maybe we could come back later? Let’s just take a breather outside—“

“Y/N, what’s on your arm?” Sam ponders and reaches to bring you closer to the flashlight.

You look down and notice a slew of thinly sourced abrasions on your forearm. “What the hell?”

“This isn’t right, we have to go.” Amanda urges, to which you all hurriedly concur, rushing for escape.

It’s when you’re one foot out of the door that you’re suddenly shoved and sent crashing into Colby’s back. Being the last one out, you physically startle and feel your hands beginning to tremble.

“I just—it just pushed me,” you stammer, eyes darting behind you to where the door to the room is shut. Amanda pulls you in close and recites a quick prayer before pulling you into her embrace.

After everything that had happened to you, Colby had had enough. His body began to boil with a protective instinct as he rushed back into the room, heart slamming against his chest.

“I dont care who you are or what you are, but you have no right to touch us. I didn’t give you permission and you sure as fucking hell don’t deserve it. You can’t follow us home and you better not follow us to any other location either.” He sneered, voicing his thoughts aloud to a visibly empty room.

“Colby,” Sam tries, placing a hand on his shoulder in attempt to pull him out, only to be shaken off and ignored when Colby continues.

“You could’ve touched me, hurt me, or whatever the fuck— but you touched Y/N and that’s where I draw the line. Get your disgusting ghoul fucking hands off of them and don’t ever touch them again.”

Staggering back with a winded breath, Colby returns to your side and holds you tightly between his arms. You reciprocate the action and try to smile, though it comes out as more of a lopsided grin.

“Thank you, colby.” You manage to utter from where he holds you against his chest. He sighs, clearly affected by your experience. You nudge him off gently before pulling him along with the rest of the group; moving to the entrance of the hotel without hesitation and making a beeline to the car.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you,” Colby murmurs once you’ve all packed into Sam’s rented vehicle. You and Colby sit thigh to thigh in the farthest pair of seats. “I promised I would.”

“Colby, it isn’t your fault. Amanda didn’t even know what it was, so seriously.. you couldn’t have known that was going to happen.” You ease his worry with a hand to his leg, rubbing miscellaneous shapes into the fabric of his jeans.

“I just wish it didn’t happen that way. I wanted this to be fun for you. And.. and I was hoping we could’ve had a small investigation together at some point in the night.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess this was Colby’s attempt at convincing you that he’s fine. However, you know him all too well to know that his facade is weakening with every thought that washes through him. The pout in his voice is nearly visible before you’re leaning in to place a kiss to his cheek. Pulling his gaze to you by gripping his chin gently, you smile at him.

The soft look he shares with you is enough for you to see just how much love he holds for you in the blue ocean of his eyes. Inviting yourself to dive into him, you lean your head against his shoulder and pull his arm closer.

“You don’t always have to be the hero, Colby. I know you love and care about me, but there’s always going to be things that you just can’t protect me from.” You say, and feel his weight drop to comfort. Smiling to yourself, you squeeze his hand.

“I love you, and thank you for bringing me along today. Despite it all, I enjoyed my time spent hunting ghosts.. just.. maybe next time we won’t visit a spirit who seems to have it out for girls who are taken, hm?”

At that, Colby chuckles. His fingers intertwine with yours impossibly tighter and he leans down to kiss the crown of your head.

“I love you too. And I promise I won’t put you in any more danger. No more mean grumpy ghosts. Maybe just the creepy kid ones.”

“Sick, no.” Sam calls from the front of the car, and you all laugh.

[wizardsvslesbians]

Isaac here. I have been remiss, allowing recommendations to pile up in our inbox! I'll put them in one big post here. I think these have evolved to be at least partially intended for our audience rather than for us, so I'll include each whole pitch as a public service.

i would be curious to what yall think about Wrath Goddess Sing by Maya Deane, which is about lesbian Achilles in a T4T relationship, and then things get Weird. if nothing else it’s the most creative of the recent wave of myth retellings

This has now been rec'd twice! I'll put the requisite little star by it.

finally got around to watching love lies bleeding and while it doesn't qualify as wizlez by virtue of not being sff, it absolutely is in the zeitgeist as it hits many, many of the main beats of the wizlez subgenre. wizlez might really hit the mainstream at some point

If the wizlez movie escapes A24 and replaces the my dead wife is a 9/11 metaphor movie at the top of the cinematic heap I'll be surprised but not shocked

i'd like to request Vinbre the Novel by Opacifica! While it is technically a fanfiction, it uses a totally original setting and cast and doesn't require any prior knowledge. It veeery much qualifies for the podcast

Clever, clever. "Technically a fanfiction." You thought I wouldn't notice how many letters these characters' names have? How many sweeps do you want us to spend on this, exactly?

hi! been binge-listening and really enjoy your analysis :) I have a few recommendations -- first, leech by hieron ennes, which may not fit the brief precisely but definitely plays with a lot of the themes that you seem interested in (power, empire, hive minds, immortality, child abuse, body horror). I loved this one and I think it may be to your taste. also, star eater by kerstin hall and the scorpion rules by erin bow -- two dystopian novels with prominent wlw characters and definite wiz vs lez vibes. I can't vouch that these two are Good per se, but I definitely think they're interesting and bring a lot to discuss.

The Scorpion Rules is in fact on our to-cover list, and is only waiting for us to get some different murder at the boarding school books out of the way first.

it's been a hot minute but i have a book rec! It doesn't have lesbians per se but it is very Gender so it may make a good Special Episode (or at least y'all would enjoy it i think!) it's The West Passage by Jared Pechacek. Little scrungly babies scurry around a castle the size of a city. Decay! Casual cannibalism! gorgeous illustrations by the author! medieval steven universe worldbuilding! it was very weird and very beautiful

I do like books that take place in One Giant Building.... I'll give it a shot...

Wanted to drop a rec for you guys! Author is hiyodori and the book is The lowest healer and the highest mage!

This has also been recommended twice and we will probably, maybe get to it.

Look I'm aware that due to the time commitment which is on par with reading Homestuck and the audio format it's basically impossible to cover all of it. But fellow wizards vs lesbians listeners should know that the magnus archives probably counts as wizards vs lesbians. There are a million wizards, women fall in love, and lesbians definitely attack the wizards. plus there's an assortment of bad mothers and monstrous children. It somehow has a coherent plot and themes by the end as well, if you can stick with the motw format long enough. However it's mostly wizard pov

It is in fact possible to read the Magnus Archives as an ebook, thanks largely to the efforts of my friend Snarp. I mean, we won't be doing it, at all, ever. But it is possible.

whenever the two of you feel like reading young adult: these feathered flames by alexandra overy has an interesting lesbian (who is also a wizard? or at least has a wizard within her?), and the sequel has an evil wizard who comes the closest to “actual wizard, with the hat and beard and everything” i’ve ever seen

Yeah, why not.

[nalyra-dreaming]

A word on Antoinette bc I think there’s maybe a few misconceptions about my stance on her.

1) Antoine(tte) shows up again in later books, which is why I say I‘d like that in the show as well. I like the concept of that arc, and I would indeed be very interested in seeing how they would do this on the show, especially with how she was depicted in season 1. (What I do not want is another jealousy arc, pretty please.)

2) The Antoinette Louis depicts is in-universe callous, at least latently racist, adulterous and opportunistic. She enjoys being the Mistress. The show uses a very clear wording and visual there. (Btw. I said I didn't agree with the "greedy, ruthless and racist" - bc I don't think Antoinette is "greedy" per se. She wants to leave and make her own life, and she wants the promise fulfilled. That's not the same as greedy, imho). However, as this is in-tale it must (as with all things in season 1) be seen in context of the intention and influence of and on Louis‘ tale. He uses Antoinette to mask other things, and to color her and Lestat in a certain light. Does that mean she is not racist, opportunistic or adulterous? (Does that mean Lestat did not do these things?) No, it does not, not necessarily, but it means final judgement needs to consider the upcoming changes of season 2 (or even seasons after), and we simply do not know those yet. We only know that they will revisit things and that we should stick with Lestat, to quote Rolin. And no, that does not mean that I think Louis lied about everything... but it means that some things may very well still shift. And should they go and include her in s2 (or later)... then that shift may very well happen in regards to her as well. Oh, and btw, this does not mean that this shift needs to be "for the better" btw - it could also go the other way around (for example if she should show up in Paris to accuse Louis and Claudia). But... we simply cannot tell yet. Maybe this is all we'll get of her, maybe not.

3) We only see one side of Antoinette, due to the structure of the tale - as a character (in-universe) there must have been more to her though, more to her weird relationship to Lestat. She must have known things, too. She must have had her own reasons. And no, that doesn’t excuse anything either.

4) Asks I get in regards to her are often either to the jealousy part or are mixing a plethora of things together (see earlier one), and various levels of the show. Which doesn’t really help imho. This show operates on at least 3 levels at any given time. (Show-level, universe-level, meta-level.)

And, last but not least:

We do have at least one troll, maybe more. Antoinette seems to be a good subject to rile people up, among other subjects.

Said troll has publicly stated that they use fandom/topic/racism accusations on purpose. To trigger discourse. And they try to appeal to people by supposedly aligning with certain views, and honing in on certain aspects, thereby boosting the belief of the existence of certain problems.

It’s why I brushed off that ask (and another) and why I‘m doubly weary of people waving that card (in either direction) in regards to touchy subjects these days.

Definitely doesn’t make it easier to talk about it though, and I am seriously debating turning off anon tbh.

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

hey so i'm hoping to get some writing advice about creative burnout? like i seem to write in fits and spurts. some months i can churn out a oneshot or chapter everyday and some months i can do one (1) creative thing only. so i'm wondering how to prevent creative burnout and how to just create more smoothly <3 thank you!

Creative Burnout & How To Ward Against It

First, I’d like to preface this all by saying you’re definitely not alone. You probably already know this, but sometimes it’s nice to be reminded.

I know from personal experience that creative burnout can leave you feeling hopeless, detached from yourself—the kind of identity crisis no one needs in 2020. 

So buckle in, folks. It’s a dosy.

I. The Symptoms

Not to be the local WebMD page here, but signs of burnout can include:

Procrastination (more than usual)

Dreading writing and feeling stuck or overly perfectionistic when you try

Physical tiredness and/or irritability

Feeling like everything is monotonous

It’s more than just writer’s block. It’s a physical and emotional exhaustion response to something that goes deeper than a simple lack of inspiration. In my experience, and from a bit of research, I’ve found that what your brain is really looking for is dopamine.

Dopamine is essentially your brain’s chemical reward system for doing something interesting or exciting to you. As someone who is diagnosed with ADHD, I have chronically low levels of dopamine, so this is a constant struggle for me—but it is absolutely made worse by creative burnout.

II. The Problem

Studies have shown that the more we do A Thing the less that thing will give us dopamine (unless a component of the activity changes regularly). This is because eventually our brains desensitise to the stimuli provided by the activity, and subsequently, we become disengaged.

But it’s not necessarily The Thing (i.e. writing) that becomes boring. Actually, more than a few factors could be at play here, and the first step to finding a solution is to identify the problem.

1. ENVIRONMENT LACKS EXCITEMENT/CHANGE—

Sometimes, the monotony of everyday life can feed creative burnout. This becomes especially applicable in quarantine when you’re not leaving your house.

What we don’t realise is that even something as small as the variables of driving to and from work, or interacting with passing coworkers, gives us dopamine. So if you have the same routine every day that does not involve any added variables, your brain will begin staunching that dopamine supply.

2. EITHER TOO EASY OR TOO CHALLENGING—

In 1975, Hungarian-American psychologist, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, coined the term “flow”, which refers to a heightened state of creativity and concentration on an activity. Csikszentmihalyi posited that if your skill level is equal to the level of challenge in any given activity, you will experience this state of flow.

The chart below is taken from Csikszentmihalyi’s own study on the subject of flow and motivation. It examines “your skill level” on the x axis in relation to the “challenge level” on the y axis.

Essentially:

Too much challenge + not enough skill = anxiety, worry (which might lead to procrastination and perfectionism)

Too much skill + not enough challenge = boredom, apathy (which might lead to monotony, irritability, and other depression-like symptoms)

Skill level = Challenge level = Flow

3. NOT ENOUGH “ACTIVE” STIMULATION—

When it comes to dopamine seeking, there is a distinct difference between active and passive stimulation in the brain.

Active stimulation is any form of activity that you have to actively engage in. For instance; exercising, doing a crossword puzzle, or reading a book. These kinds of activities not only give you dopamine, they also facilitate critical thinking and problem solving thought processes, which act as catalysts for creativity.

Passive stimulation, on the other hand, comes in the form of television, social media, and YouTube. It’s anything you can consume without having to actively engage. Passive stimulation will indeed give your brain dopamine, however, it won’t activate your creativity.

The problem also lies in the speed at which you receive the dopamine from passive activities. Passive stimulation is so easy to access that the more you consume, the harder it becomes to pick up active stimulation. Your brain expects a hit of dopamine just by picking up a phone or turning on the TV—it becomes addicted to the quick fix of a Netflix binge.

III. The Solutions

Based on the problems mentioned above, I am going to list a few solutions. Keeping in mind that not every solution will work for everyone, these can act as both preventative measures and remedies for someone who is currently burned out.

1. CHANGE UP YOUR ENVIRONMENT/ROUTINE—

Aim to do at least one thing per day that will add “variables” to the monotony. This can be as simple as going on a long walk, dressing up in that bold outfit you always wanted to wear to the office but never did, or sitting at a different workspace in your home.

Anything you can do that’s simple, but might provide an extra variable to your day to spice things up. Note: this shouldn’t be the same thing every day.

2. CHALLENGE YOURSELF MORE—

If you find yourself bored by your work, try challenging yourself more. This could mean setting goals for yourself that go a bit beyond what you’ve been doing. 

For example, if you’ve been writing 500 words per day, see if you can beat your own word count every day for the next week. If you’ve been writing mainly fluff pieces, switch it up and do an angst piece. See if you can write a book in a month, or start a blog where you don’t write fiction at all!

Anything you can do to add a little kick to your workload. Note: Beware of challenging yourself too much! This can lead straight back into burnout.

3. CHALLENGE YOURSELF LESS—

If you’re on the flip side of that coin, and find that you are anxious, procrastinating, and perfectionistic when it comes to writing, fret not. Just because you’re experiencing any of these things, doesn’t mean you’re incapable of doing the job with your skillset.

It just means your perception of the job needs to be shifted.

Procrastination, at its heart, is a fear of failure, which results in actively avoiding the negative emotions associated with the task that causes this fear. Perfectionism is a type of procrastination that is a combination of a fear of failure and a fear of success (or, more accurately, other’s critiques of your success) all at once.

Neither have anything to do with your actual skillset, but they have everything to do with your perception of your skillset. Obviously, this is a harder thing to fix, as it has to do with deeply ingrained levels of self-esteem.

What I can offer you is a tactic to trick your mind into thinking you’re capable.

If you have a task, big or small, and you are feeling overwhelmed by it (like you might go curl up in bed and scroll Tumblr), immediately break that task up into smaller tasks. Keep breaking up the smaller tasks until you have the smallest possible part of the bigger task without doing nothing.

Then do that smallest possible thing.

If your goal is to write a 2000 word one shot, a small part of that task is writing half of it. An even smaller part of that task is breaking the one shot up into “scenes” and writing one scene. For instance:

Jude wakes up to a sore throat, a runny nose, and a fever.

She tries to go to work, but Cardan, being the mother hen that he is, threatens to never make her another grilled cheese sandwich (her favourite food) ever again if she doesn’t stay home.

Jude agrees begrudgingly, and Cardan sits her down in front of the TV with a bottle of Gatorade. He leaves to go get medicine from the store.

When Cardan comes back, Jude is worse than before. He makes her soup and saltine crackers and spoon feeds her.

She complains the whole time and, in her feverish state, threatens to never buy him another bottle of wine (his favourite food) ever again if he doesn’t let her feed herself.

Each bullet point represents one “scene” of about 200-400 words each. Obviously, there will be more details that you work out as you write. But with these five smaller scenes, your goal is no longer writing the 2000 word one shot. Your goal is writing the first of the five scenes.

If you complete the smallest possible task, you can stop, and you’ll still feel like you’ve accomplished something because you can cross off that task from your list. But chances are, by the time you cross off one task, you may have inspiration enough to keep going.

4. ENGAGE IN ACTIVE STIMULATION—

Since active stimulation has been proven to turn on the creative “tap”, try incorporating more of these activities into your daily routine:

Exercise: As the resident couch potato, I hate to say that exercising is good for creativity, but it is. Even if it’s just going on a short walk, so long as you’re moving.

Reading: Sometimes you have plenty of ideas, but no words to fit those ideas. Fill your well of words by carving out an hour or two each day for reading a good book.

The Creative Process: In the writing world, the creative process is a process of about 20-30 minutes that the writer partakes in every day before they start writing. This process should be creative, but also have nothing to do with writing. You can try colouring in a colouring book, painting, organising a page in your bullet journal. Anything that is creative but does not make you think about everything you have to do that day. Think of it as creative meditation.

Listen to music: Having APD, I personally can’t listen to music while I write. However, studies have shown that if you listen to at least ten songs per day, it will significantly benefit your dopamine levels and overall mood. If you’re like me and prefer to work in silence, maybe stick on a couple songs during your creative process. If you can manage music and writing together, get out those headphones!

5. KEEP A REGULAR SCHEDULE—

I know this is the most cliche point in the book, but it’s valid. This doesn’t mean do the same thing at the same time every day over and over, because ultimately we’re looking to avoid monotony. 

But having pillars of structure to bolster the excitement can definitely work to keep you from slipping into burnout. Going to sleep, waking up, and having your meals at relatively the same time every day are good examples of this. 

Feel free to change up the things you do between breakfast and lunch, but make sure you have those pillars of consistency so your brain knows that a break is on the horizon and doesn’t get tired.

6. PACE YOURSELF—

This is particularly difficult for those of us who are coming out of a creative burnout, but I urge you to pay special attention to this one. If we are suddenly hit by inspiration and the writing is flowing and flowing and flowing, eventually we will hit the point of highest dopamine capacity for writing.

Not putting a check on the flood of inspiration coming out of a creative burnout, I’d argue, is actually a guarantee that many of us will experience burnout all over again. It becomes this vicious cycle in which we are trapped.

While it feels great to write non-stop and receive immediate validation for that work, try to limit yourself to how much you’re writing and how immediately you post your writing (if you plan on posting it).

Whenever I finish a one shot or a chapter of something, I like to allow at least one day for editing before I post. This timeframe is important, because it acts as a buffer of rest between writing marathons. 

You can take however long you need for the editing process, but definitely make sure you have a set amount of time in place. Otherwise, your brain might not have enough time to come down from what is essentially a writing high, and you will always need to reach greater heights in order to achieve that same level of dopamine.

~~~~

Overall, the most important things to take away from all of this are: 

Change up your environment

Keep your brain actively stimulated 

Have pillars of structure between which you can run about chaotically to your heart’s content

PACE YOURSELF!

Hope this helped. Happy writing!

-Em 🖤🗡

Writing Tip Masterlist

Fic Masterlist

Celebrate 2K with me!

[marvel-m-lee]

Pranks, Horns, and Tony

Warning: Tickle Fic, birds, spiders, pranking,

Ppl: Loki, Tony, You

Words: 2254

Summary: You and Loki are known fir your pranks, and your both left alone in the compound together whole the avengers are on a mission.

--------

It was another day in the compound, you had been living with the avengers for almost a year now and seemed to get along with the very mischievous God Loki.

You were both quite young- well sorta. If he were a human he'd be a couple years older than you but that's fine, you both got along splendidly.

You would read books together, play pranks together, be on each others sides and he'd always be there for you even if he wouldn't show the other avengers. Though they all knew you both had a special bond, Thor especially knew because whenever he'd take you to asgard or Loki to Earth you'd both have bright smiles and go somewhere to cause havoc.

Thor didn't really mind though, it just meant he'd get to bombard you both with tickles afterwards.

Yesterday Loki and Thor had come to visit again and would be staying for a couple of days. You and Loki caught up a little and read your books whilst keeping each other company. Today is when the true mischief would start, all the avengers would be going out and you and Loki would be left alone in the compound for a couple of hours so you both were planning pranks for the others.

"Alright y/n, we'll be back in a couple of hours. Don't burn down the house while we're gone okay?" Steve teased as he gave you a hug.

"Yes, and Brother, do not cause any havoc." Thor told Loki, only to be answered by a shrug and a smirk.

"Brother I'm the God of Mischief, what more must you expect?"

"Well then when we come back I'll be the God of Tickles, shall I, dear brother?" Thor asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Loki's face became a rosie red and crossed his arms whilst rolling his eyes.

You stood next to Loki and smiled at Thor with your hands behind your back, "we'll be good, have fun!" Thor nodded and all the Avengers left the compound for their mission.

Both you and Loki waited for there to be a silence that rang through the compound once everyone would have been gone. After a moment you both smirked and turned to one another.

You brought your hand to your face and showed Loki your intertwined fingers to show your face promise, Loki's smirk increased as he saw it.

"Ready to cause some mischief?" You asked him.

"It's in the name" he replied as you both began to run down the halls yo your first target.

You arrived at Bucky's room and looked around, "So, what's the plan here?" You asked the mischief maker himself. Loki walked around the somewhat messy room and found his way to the bed.

"A magnet, a large one. We'd place it under his bed and once he comes back and gets ready to sleep, in the morning he wouldn't be able to get out of bed!" Loki exclaimed, both of you began the process, both with large smirks on your faces.

Loki used his magic to lift up the mattress and keep it in the air whilst you both grabbed a large magnet from Tony's spare parts and placed it under the mattress bed. Loki then placed the mattress back on and the sheets were already messed to so he surely wouldn't notice?

Yeah, I don't know why Tony had a large ass magnet either, let's move on.

You and Loki both snickers at the idea of the prank and moved on to another victim.

For Sam you both collected a bunch of birds and locked them in his closet- with breathing holes obviously. One had pecked at Loki's hand causing him to curse which made you burst out laughing.

Steve's closet was now filled with a bunch of Rock concert shirts and IronMan shorts to pin the blame on Tony, Tony usually was in prank and tickle ears with Steve anyway so it wasn't that hard to believe he'd done it.

You both didn't dare do anything too crazy to Black Widow, so you both just stole a jacket each. She had incredible taste that woman. Loki stole a green jacket with some sort of fluffy collar and you stole a (f/c) leather jacket.

Clint's prank was the simplest, you both sprayed this fart spray into the vents and it STANK.

You both liked Bruce, well Loki wasn't as much of a fan but you all enjoyed reading so Bruce was safe from your havoc.

Wanda's room was all tidy, it smelt wonderful and honestly was your favourite room so you both decided to just put some spices in her bed to make her sneeze.

Vision's room was safe, only you'd both left a piece of gum next to his table with a note attached saying; 'Try this, Bruce and I were working on it. -Tony Stark'

Thor's room was one of the messier one, but he'd taken Stormbreaker out with him rather than Mjölnir, and by some sort of mirical you had all found out you could actually lift the weapon, so you took it and hid it away in a close vent that smelt of farts.

Turns out Clints prank was the most deadly as the whole place started to stink up making both you and Loki gag, and burst out with laughter.

Peter wasnt actually on the mission, nor was Scott but it was a Friday meaning they'd both be coming over for movie night. Plus Peter would be staying the weekend so why not torture him? Even if they were some of your best friends, they werent safe from the mischief makers.

You came up with the idea of hiding spiderman Peter's room, you were terrified of them though so you made Loki do so.

"Wait so Parker's afraid of Spiders?"

"Yeah, I don't really get it either-"

"Pffft, here you want a spidey y/n?" Loki chuckles whilst taunting, shoving a spider in your face as you screamed and jumped into the wall.

"LOKI PISS OFF!"

Loki howled with laughter and placed the last spider down. You both left and did the same with Scott's room but rather than spiders you placed all the ants you could find on his bed.

Last but not least Loki lead you to Tony's Lab where he would be working on all his suits and other personal projects. Its not the main lab but it wasnt too far off, just smaller and more personal so that he could work at night or alone.

You both entered while snickering to yourselves, it had been an hour and a half since they'd all left and you both should gave at LEAST 30 minutes. But hoped you'd have an hour. It wouldn't take long anyway.

"So what's the plan?" You asked Loki.

You both saw an IronMan head on his desk and smirked at one another, knowing that would be your target. Maybe jello inside the helmet? Maybe slime? Maybe hiding it? Repainting it?

"Here, I've got these horns that we can lazer on the front" Loki smirked while taking out two golden horns like his own on his head but separated to be put on a helmet.

You didn't really mind it was a mainly Loki thing, it just meant he'd get in trouble and not you for this. You werent per say throwing him under the bus, but you werent gonna bring it to his attention.

You both walked over to get ready to melt a horn on each, Loki grabbed some sort of tool and started the first one. You stood behind him and watched over his shoulder, you admired the small things,about how Loki's greesy hear was tired up into a man bun before he'd started working on it, and how he squinted one eye to concentrate with his tongue sticking out. It made you giggle.

"I'm almost done..." you watched as he'd almost finished it, both of you concentrating hard on the hand ship.

"Oh hey kiddo's"

You both jumped out of your skin, Loki fell off the chair and part of his hair came out, laying on the floor he turned to see who was talking, you on the other hand jumped and slowly turned around with a nervous smile.

The one and only Tony Stark stepped out of his suit, adjusting his watch as he stepped out.

"So, what are you both up to?" he asked, his lips scrunched inwards and his hands on his hips.

Both of you were silent until Loki began getting up and dusting himself off.

"Nothing, we were just about to leave" You noticed something about him, Loki that is. Something seemed different, and rightly so. You glanced behind you to see the real loki grab the helmet but sink down so he couldn't be seen.

"Oh good, I really cant have you both in here, off you go then."

Tony dismissed the two of you and you both left for ths door, and while he wasnt looking Loki diverged into his clone again but now holding the helmet.

Right before the two of you had reached the door, his suit came speeding past and covered the exit.

'Shit' was the only thing you could both think of. Neither of you turned around to see where or what the billionaire was doing, but you heard him.

"Wait a moment, wheres my helmet? Oh and Loki,I think you left something" Loki and you both turned around, Loki with his hands behind his back,obviously hiding something. Tony stood right in front of him,holding the other horn to his face with a wide smirk.

Quickly the suit begins you both snatched up the helmet and yourself as Tony pounced on the God of Mischief, his hands at his sides, wiggling his fingers all over.

Loki yelped and began lightly chuckling at the fingers that were tickling him, trying to step back but only into closed doors. He tried to use his hands to block the attack but Tony was having none of it.

"Sir I have the helmet and y/n, it seems they were moulding the horns onto it." Friday explained.

"Ohhh, so you were doing something? I thought you were the god of mischief? Not the God of lies?" Tony taunted, as he squeezed the puny gods sides, then quickly moved to a death spot, his hips. Squeezing tightly and vibrating his hands and fingertips causing Loku to fall down the wall with laughter.

"NoHoho!!!! Damn it StArarK!!!!" Loki yelled as he tried to force Tony's hands off him. Though he was incredibly weak from the torturous tickles.

It was a usual sight, Thor was usually tickling his younger brother for some reason or another, its what older brothers are fir though right? Loku would become a blushing screaming mess but he'd never learn. Same goes for you though, everyone in the compound knew your little weakness and would use it against toy for anything. Your laughter was just too cute!

As Tony abused Loki's sides and hips, he ordered Friday to put the helmet on the desk and tickle you. You squealed because as much as you enjoyed tickling, you couldn't never stand it when the robots tickled you. It was rare but in cases when Tony needed an extra set of hands, well he got em'.

The suit held you up and began using a vibrating simulation Tony had recently installed on the hands for some reason and placed them on your ribs whilst holding you in the air. And as this tickled you, because it did t seem like enough the suit also used it's big fingersto scrape and squeezed the insides of your armpits.

You kicked and squealed at the top of your lungs, trying to escape. Somehow being held in the air seemed much worse, and the vibrating cause you to laugh harder and harder when random electric bolts went through your skin.

After around 15 minutes Tony had both you and Loki in piles of laughter on the floor, weak and begging. Well you were begging, Loki was threatening.

"LEHEHET OFFFF! HAHAHHH IHIGIM GONNA KIHIHILL YOU!"

"Okie Doki horny. First let me do this and I'll let you go."

Tony lifted up Loki's lime green shirt and blew the largest raspberry right above his belly button. An inhuman screech came from Loki as he curled in on himself and howled with laughter from ghostly tickles and squeezes.

"As for you" Tony taunted as he walked over to you, you were not on the floor, twisting and turning to get away from this oncoming attack and the tickles. The suit held your hands above your head as Tony brought up your shirt to reveal your belly button.

"PLEHEASE DONT TOHONY!"

Tony looked up at you and smirked, "We all know you love it" and blew right on your belly button. Your laughter went silent and you melted into the floor as both let off.

Tony laughed at you both in giggly messes on the floor.

"I came back early, and the others will be back soon too. So I suggest you both go clean up your messes before you get something worse" Tony suggested as he walked over to his desk to suspect the iron helmet you'd worked on. You and Loki had now recovered- partly- from the attacks and took in what he said.

But it was too late, everyone heard birds chirping and Sam screaming.

"WHERE ARE THEY?!"

[ravennm84]

Lyre Festival Fraud

This was another prompt that I found and just ran with it. The prompt itself was based on the Fyre Festival Disaster that happened in 2017 where 5,000 people were scammed out of thousands of dollars per ticket for what was supposed to be a luxury music festival. I didn’t take the story to quite that scale since most middle schoolers don’t have that kind of cash. There will be a sequel to this coming out soon. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

Over the past few weeks since Marinette had come back to class, she couldn’t help but notice that Lila seemed to be up to something new. For one, the Italian girl hadn’t been bothering her as much as before. There was still the occasional quip and barb thrown in her direction, but nothing compared to what she had been doing before. She wanted to write it off to the deal Adrien had made with the girl, the blonde had confessed the truth to her after the photoshoot and promised her that he would never let things get that out of hand ever again. But something just didn’t seem right.

Lila was sticking to a single story about a party that she was planning on an island south of Venice over the long weekend next month. She was going on and on about it being a private island, with beautiful scenery and a rich history. Her mother was setting it up for a bunch of politicians, and all of the celebrities Lila knew were coming. A five-star chef would be there to make everyone the most amazing food. Many of the musicians she knew were planning to do jam-sessions, so there would be live music. The way she described it, it was going to be the biggest private event that Lila had ever been involved with.

Marinette and Adrien kept keen ears pointed in her direction, more than they normally would. Something about this particular story seemed different from her usual lies. It didn’t sit well with either of them

They could admit, the Italian was smoother with this lie than she was with any other she had spouted since joining their class. She had started mentioning the party a little here and there, then the different celebrities, then the hotel and bringing in the chef. How expensive it all was and how her mother was planning everything. Then, the following week, Lila dropped a bomb that had almost the entire class squealing and scrambling.

“You won’t believe it! Mama said that I could invite all my friends to come to the party so I’ll have more people my age to talk to!” Lila gushed as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet.

“Seriously! That’s awesome, girl!” Alya cheered excitedly.

“But I have to be up front with all of you about something, and I want you to know that if I had my way I would never ask, but my mom insisted.” Lila’s expression quickly turned uncertain as she looked around at her ‘friends’ before taking a breath and continuing. “Whoever wants to come, has to take care of their own travel and pay €300 up front for the food and accommodations. I really wish I didn’t have to say that, but there was nothing I could do to change her mind.”

“That’s completely understandable, dudette.” Nino grinned as she slung his arm around Alya’s shoulders. “But still, for two nights in a swanky hotel and all our meals handled, that’s a total steal. When would you need the money?”

Lila’s face lit up again saying that she would need the money at least a week before the party so her mother could book enough rooms and make sure there would be enough food. Mylene asked if they needed their parents to escort them, and Lila promised to get them the needed forms to travel. She also asked Alya not to post anything about this on her blog, as this was supposed to be a private thing with a lot of big-name people and they couldn’t risk word getting out. The journalist readily agreed but made Lila promise that she would be allowed to post pictures after the weekend was over, which Lila readily agreed.

Marinette and Adrien looked on with worry as their classmates began making plans for the weekend in a few weeks. After class let out for the day, Adrien convinced his body guard that he needed to study with Marinette for an upcoming test. Since the man liked the girl, her parents, and had a soft spot for their bakery’s salted caramel scones; he allowed it. Up in her room, the two teens set their homework aside and jumped on Marinette’s computer to see what was going on with the Italian. 

“What do you think she’s up to?” Adrien asked her.

“Not sure, but it’s strange that she kept saying how I shouldn’t ask for money when I do commissions, then turns around and asks for €300 per person.” She says, looking up private islands near Venice. “I mean, she has to know that she can’t just ask for money from everyone and then not follow through since she would have to give all of their money back.”

“Agreed, she could try and say that the money was non-refundable, but I don’t think they would accept that.”

She hummed in agreement before pulling up a map. “The only private island I can find close by is Isola Santa Christina, but that’s North-East of Venice, not South. And I checked the availability for that weekend, and it’s not reserved. The only island South of Venice that could be considered ‘private’ is Poveglia.”

The blonde’s brow shot up when he heard the name. “Isn’t that the haunted island that’s been closed off to tourists for a long time?”

“Since the 1960s, when the mental asylum closed.” She nodded, as she continued to read. “And before that, it was where they sent people dying of plague and other diseases to die and be buried. It says right here, there’s over 160,000 people buried there in ‘plague pits’ and it’s nearly impossible to walk five meters without walking over someone’s remains.”

Adrien’s lip curled in disgust as he read the information and history of the island over the French-Asian girl’s shoulder. “Well, she did say that the island was private, historic and had a view. And the island does have a lot of history and it’s private.”

“And there was a plan to turn the old asylum into a luxury hotel a few years back, but that fell through.”

They continued reading the different articles on different islands around Venice, but none of them seemed to fit. Adrien agreed that Lila wouldn’t be so sloppy with her lies to invite everyone to a weekend party and then have to give everyone their money back… but what if she never had to see anyone again?

“Do you mind if I look something up really quick?”

“Did you think of something?” She asked while standing from her desk chair so he could take a look.

“It’s just a hunch,” he muttered, his fingers quickly typing at the keys. “I think you’re right, Lila wouldn’t ask for money if she was just going to have to turn around and give it back, even if she used the ‘deposit’ excuse to keep part of it for herself. That can only mean that something else is going on.”

It took a few minutes, but he found what he was looking for on the Italian Embassy’s website and twitter page. Different people wishing Ambassador Rossi a fond goodbye before she transfers back to Italy before the holiday weekend. “She’s not coming back,” he said between gritted teeth while Marinette looked over his shoulder.

“I want to say that I can’t believe Lila would do something like this, but she purposely got me expelled, almost got me akumatized, and almost caused another Scarlet Moth incident. Stealing from people she won’t see again is well within the boundaries of what she can do.”

Adrien turned the chair to look Marinette in the eyes. “What should we do? We tried the high road, that was a mistake and I’m still kicking myself for saying that, but we can’t just sit back and let all of them get scammed for €300.”

“It will be more than that,” worry evident in her voice. “It will be the €300, whatever they have to spend on their tickets there and back, and whatever money they’ll spend on someplace to stay while they’re there, if they stay in Venice.”

“We have to try,” Adrien said, just as determined when he forced Lila to lie to get Marinette back into school. “Maybe if we talk to everyone, one person at a time and explain what we found, we might be able to convince them to look into things a little deeper and figure it out themselves.”

Marinette hesitated. “They didn’t believe me before, why would they believe me now?”

“Because I’ll be with you every step of the way to show them that it’s not just you, I promise.”

~oOo~

Adrien kept his promise, he stayed with Marinette as they pulled their classmates aside to show them what they found. Nathaniel, Juleka, Rose and Chloe seemed to really listen to them and agreed that it seemed a little too good to be true. The others were more hesitant to listen and turned their questions to Lila, who was quick to spin her lies about the comments on Twitter being taken out of context, that her mother’s coworkers were only saying goodbye for the weekend. Then she turned on the fake tears and accused them of spreading rumors and lies when she was just trying to do something nice for her friends. That resulted in the majority of the class shunning Marinette and Adrien for the weeks leading up to the holiday. 

Nearly the entire class gave Lila €300 each before the deadline she had set. Adrien and Marinette had been ‘uninvited’ to the party; Chloe scoffed and said that she wasn’t about to waste her time with a bunch of people she didn’t even like; and Nathaniel, Juleka, and Rose all claimed that they couldn’t afford it. Lila was leaving school a couple days before the weekend to “help her mom prepare for the party” but gave everyone instructions on which dock to meet at for the boat to pick them up and ferry them to the island. 

Friday morning, the two of them tried again, practically pleading with their friends not to go, that it had all been a scam. This was met with a lot of harsh words, insults, and Alya declaring that she could no longer be friends with someone as vindictive and jealous as Marinette. That left the girl in tears, but the four that stayed behind were quick to comfort her and took her back to her house after school for a movie night. After the others left, Marinette sent a quick email, hoping for a positive response.

The movie night was followed by a jam-session on Saturday at Juleka and Luka’s place. It was a blast to have Adrien on the keyboard with Kitty Section again, it was a little difficult without a drummer but it was still fun. When Marinette got home, she was relieved to see a response to her email waiting for her and read it before she went to bed.

They had a picnic in the park on Sunday, along with Marc, where Adrien was having a photoshoot so he could sit and eat with them during his breaks. The photographer liked the natural energy and look of the group so much that he took multiple pictures of the three couples, as Vincent put it. There was another email waiting for her when she got home, she read that one twice and rewrote her response three times before sending it.

On Monday, the six of them hung out at the bakery with Tom showing Marinette’s friends how to make the perfect croissant and the best way to pipe frosting onto cupcakes. They had a blast and ended up having a frosting fight at one point, which ended with a large round of giggles and Adrien striking a victory pose since he had gotten hit with the least amount of frosting. Everyone had a great time and went home with the goodies they’d made. The final response in Marinette’s email put a smile on her face, knowing that she had done the right thing.

~oOo~

Tuesday morning and the five of them weren’t sure what to expect. They had decided to go with a united front and met at the Dupain-Cheng bakery so they would go to school together. Sabine gladly handed all of them fresh pastries before they left and wished them luck. Marinette’s parents had been made aware of Lila’s deceit and how she had likely scammed their classmates out of a lot of money. Hearing this, the two bakers had been making multiple calls to the Board of Governors about their daughter’s expulsion and other incidents that Adrien had brought up that had to do with Lila. From what they had heard, it was likely that their school, M. Damocles, and Mme. Bustier would be under heavy scrutiny very soon.

Entering the classroom, none of them were prepared for the dead silence from the rest of the class. Everyone looked to be experiencing different levels of confusion, anger, and absolute exhaustion. Everyone except Chloe, who looked smug as she grinned at everyone in the room. When the five of them came in, her smile grew as she looked directly at Alya. “So, how was your weekend on that private island in Venice? Was it as fabulous as Lie~la said it would be?”

Mylene, Sabrina, and Kim all started crying; Nino ducked his head to hide behind his hat, Max's head dropped to the desk with a thunk, and Alya’s fists clenched so hard that her nails cut into her palms. But it was Alex that had the most colorful reaction as she slammed her hands on the table and practically screamed.

“Shut up, you blonde shrew! Grrr! I swear, if I ever see that liar again, I will hit her over her head with my skates until she apologizes.” Her eyes turned to Marinette and Adrien, still angry but with a bit of self-loathing. “You were right. We all waited on that dock all day until the police came and took us to the station. We had to spend the night in the police station and wait for our parents to come get us. Alya tried to argue that it was just a private party and even pointed out the island that bitch said it would be on. But no~, that island was closed to the public and has been for 50 years!”

“We tried to tell you,” Adrien said hesitantly when Alix stopped ranting to breathe.

“Dude, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my parents so mad,” Nino said, barely lifting his head to look at his friend. “They’re talking to a lawyer about what they can do, but the law dude said that the most they can do is file charges against Lila for the scam and that none of use are likely to get any of the money back.”

“My parents grounded me until the lawsuit is settled or I pay back all the money they spent on coming to get me,” Ivan told them, his large shoulders drooping almost half-way down his back.

“By my calculations, that is unlikely to happen,” Max said, not even bothering to lift his face from his desk. “When taking into account the amount of money that she took from each of us, that she had us go to Venice of our own accord, the fact that her mother is an ambassador and therefore bestowed Lila with diplomatic immunity for her actions; there is not much the law can do.”

Unable to help herself, Marinette turned to look at Adrien as a small smile graced her lips. Adrien gave her a bigger smile that confused everyone, even Nathaniel, Rose, and Juleka. “You should tell them.”

“Tell us what?” Alya asked, not sure if she could deal with any more surprises for the rest of the school year.

“Well, after Adrien and I figured out what Lila was up to, we recorded one of the times she bragged about the trip and how much money she was getting from you. I emailed the video, your names, the dock where she told you to go, and all the other information to Ambassador Rossi on Friday night to let her know what was going on.” 

All of their jaws dropped as Marinette continued to speak. “I don’t think she believed me at first; but then she got a report about a bunch of unaccompanied minors from her daughter’s school being detained in Venice and that she had apparently allowed them into the country. She was shocked and confused that any of you got through customs without an adult, but then Ambassador Rossi noticed a stack of documents were missing and figured Lila must have taken them and forged her signature to make the scam more believable. I talked to her again last night; she’s forcing Lila to plead guilty to fraud and forgery, any charges that the Italian government was going to file against you are being dropped, and she's clearing out Lila’s savings to pay the money back to your parents.”

Now the entire class was crying tears of joy and relief. They knew that they’d messed up when it came to Marinette and Adrien, Alya especially towards her best friend. But they were more than willing to work their butts off to make it right, no matter how rough the road ahead of them might be. 

[swaps55]

Eulogia

With MELE imminent, sharing a scene I wrote a long time ago, in which Kaidan Alenko mourns Ashley Williams after Virmire, and discovers he isn’t mourning alone. 

From here. 

~

The cargo bay was quiet when the elevator doors opened. Most of the crew had dispersed to the Citadel, leaving Kaidan mercifully alone in the cavernous space. Slowly he made his way towards the lockers, the scar tissue and healing sinews in his abdomen like a knot that someone had doused with gasoline and set on fire.

But still healing.  

(This is it. This is how I’m going to die.)

Kaidan exhaled.

If he closed his eyes he could still see the numbers in his HUD, always hovering right above zero, a perpetuating terminus never quite reached, never quite avoided.

When he reached the lockers he stopped, hand halfway to the one marked, Williams, A.

If he went by the book this should be Gladstone’s job. There was no reason it shouldn’t be Gladstone’s job.

(You know it’s the right choice.)

But it wasn’t Gladstone’s job.

The click of the locker door echoed loud enough that he flinched before drawing in a deep breath and pulling it all the way open. She hadn’t lied about her uniforms. Every shirt hung crisp and straight on its hanger, in sharp contrast to the chaotic pile of belongings tossed heedlessly on the ground below it. The pile was so impressive he was actually afraid to take anything out, for fear it would cause an outright avalanche. In spite of himself he shook his head and smiled a little.

“Somehow this is exactly what I expected from you,” he said under his breath. He heard a creak behind him and whipped his head around, heart rate thudding as though he expected to find her peering over his shoulder, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. A flush crept up the back of his neck.

Of course there was nothing. Ashley was dead.

His gripped the locker door until his knuckles whitened, leaned his forehead briefly against it. The metal felt cool and hard against his skin. He swallowed once. Twice.  

Eventually he straightened with a sigh, tugging at his uniform and rolling his shoulder, as though he could somehow shake Ashley off like working out a crick in his neck.  By the time his fingers brushed the cloth of her fatigues their subtle quiver had been swallowed up by the hard-earned discipline he’d practiced so diligently ever since Jump Zero.

(Kaidan Alenko. Always looking for the sure thing. Everything needs to be perfectly defined and spelled out for you, doesn’t it? Sometimes the unknown can be a little exciting, too.)

A static spark stung his finger as he emptied the hangers. He jerked his hand back, muttering, used to the burn, never the timing. Slowly he reached back in, painstakingly folding each shirt with precision he hadn’t employed since Basic.

(You find a wrinkle in my uniform and I’ll clean your pistol for a month.)

He made each crease razor sharp. Not a wrinkle to be found.

Once the clothing had been stored, he began taking apart the pile she had accumulated in her locker. Datapads with poetry. She liked Cummings and Yeats, Plath and Elizabeth Bishop. He remembered Joker saying something about Heinlein. Kaidan hadn’t intended to look through them, but shortly he found himself cross-legged on the floor, skimming through lines and verses. It was easy to tell her favorites – she’d annotated them heavily. Underlined phrases, personal reflections. In some cases she’d made notes that he didn’t understand, such as the one beside a line from a poem by Elizabeth Browning that simply read, Josh, and in parenthesis (the little shit).

She also had a copy of the Bible, which gave him pause. It wasn’t a datapad either but an actual book, pages dog-eared, corners bent and turned down, small makeshift bookmarks such as scraps of paper, paper clips, even a hair tie, sticking out at all angles. Like the datapads it was covered in notes, but all of these handwritten, in scripts of multiple hands. Some tiny and neat, others broad and flowing. Though he didn’t think he’d ever seen a sample of Ashley’s handwriting he immediately found one he thought had to be hers – small but hurried, with the occasional loopy flourish. It tended to start out neat, but quickly deteriorated when her hand couldn’t keep up with her thoughts, until it was nearly illegible.

The inside cover contained four handwritten paragraphs, each in a different script that he recognized from the subsequent pages. Each a note from parent to child, passing the heirloom on with messages of faith and love. Four generations of Williams, right there on one page.

Kaidan ran his fingers across the script, tracing the shallow grooves the pen made against the paper. General David Williams, of Shanxi infamy, bequeathing it to his son Matthew Williams, with a note.

Our faith is our legacy. We keep to it and carry on, no matter the cost. And when that task is difficult, remember those who’ve walked a harder road with lesser reward. We are blessed. I am blessed. Because I have you.

Serviceman Williams then wrote to his daughter, There’s a great wide universe out there waiting for you. I hope you explore it to the fullest. If you ever get lost, look here and see if you can’t find your way. Remember, kiddo. Ad aspera per astra.

Kaidan’s hands loosened, allowing the book’s spine to droop. A few pages whispered past his thumb. The hair tie bookmark fell out, ghosting to the floor without fanfare.

He snatched it up with a hot flash of guilt and held it aloft. What page did it come from? What place had he lost? How important had it been?

He didn’t know.

There was so much he didn’t know. So much he’d never learn.

He stared at the hair tie. Nothing more than a simple strip of dark blue elastic, still twined with a few strands of long, dark brown hair. She probably had a few dozen just like it. She’d worn two in her hair, at all times. One to pull it back into a ponytail, one to wrap around the thick twist of her bun and secure it in place. Usually she kept a third around her wrist, just for emergencies.

But they were never enough to hold back those few stubborn, errant strands that inevitably pulled free to waft about her face.

Moisture burned the corner of his eyes. His fingers curled around the small token, and he put his newly formed fist to his mouth to stifle the sound brewing in his throat. One choked sob got through before he swallowed the rest back, chest aching from the effort. He wicked a thumb across his eyes, hastily tucked the hair tie back between the pages and set the book aside.

This wasn’t his. The grief and memories trapped within the Bible’s covers were for her family, not for him.

But it shouldn’t be for anyone. It should be his things exposed to the harsh light of the cargo bay, meticulously sorted and stored, itemized on a manifest and marked for shipping back to Vancouver, care of Marc and Lora Alenko.

His throat tightened, hitching breath loud against the silent backdrop of the cargo bay. Not even the sound of the engines to provide some white noise.

Nothing like this would be found among his own belongings. He spoke to his folks a couple of times a year. Hadn’t been back to Vancouver in almost three. When he did it tended to be strained small talk and careful avoidance of anything to do with the mutated eezo nodes lurking under his skin. He’d actually thought running off to the Alliance might help. Follow in his father’s footstep. Give them something in common. That, of course, and he’d had nowhere else to go.

Would his own family have mourned him the way Ashley Williams’ would mourn her?

Would she?

Stop.

He raked a hand through his hair, fingers eventually coming to rest against his forehead. His head felt heavy. Too heavy to hold up, like a lead weight.

(They’re more important. We’re as good as dead up here anyway.)

He wondered who would inherit the Bible now that Ashley was gone. One of her sisters, maybe. Sisters who probably had yet to learn about what had happened down on Virmire.

(Kaidan, what the hell are you doing?)

(This bomb is going off! No matter what.)

No matter what. 0.00. He’d been ready for it. Ready for anything. Except Shepard’s hand, grabbing him by the arm.

Further down in the pile he found smaller items. Toiletries. A stuffed hanar, of all things. A bottle of liquor she must have picked up on Noveria.

(Just for the record, I’d look damn good in a dress.)

He swallowed against a lump in his throat, chest constricting. He could see her so clearly, standing at the railing in Port Hanshan, alternating between slouching and gripping the rail with her hands and leaning back on her heels.

(I’m not most people.)

No. She hadn’t been.

He found some packing material for the liquor. It was scotch, an asari brand, maybe purchased to share with Liara. Why it hadn’t been drunk he couldn’t say. Maybe she just ran out of time.  

Next was a holo album containing a few photos. People he didn’t recognize. A woman that looked too much like her not to be her mother. A young girl with a grin he recognized from those brief moments in the comm room. Before…

Stop!

Kaidan put the holo aside, then rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. Took a deep breath in. Let it out slow. Clamped his eyes shut. For a moment, everything shook. His hands. The air in his lungs. His skin felt hot, but prickled with gooseflesh.  

Breathe in. Breathe out.  

Eventually he opened his eyes. Went back to the pile. Finish it, marine. Don’t leave her hanging.

In all her possessions were scant, just what she’d been able to obtain or accumulate since they’d picked her up on Eden Prime. In fact, how the Bible and holo album had even managed to catch up with her struck him as a bit of a mystery.

But when he got to the bottom of the pile his hand froze, mouth dry as a shock of white hot cold strummed the length of his spine, numbness dulling his fingers until they felt thick and clumsy.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. After all, she’d died in her combat gear. Not her fatigues. Of course they would be here.

This time no amount of discipline could overcome his shaking hands as he picked one up and turned it over in his palms.

A neon green boot with matching laces, so bright they nearly glowed in the dim light of the cargo bay.

His gut clenched, chest so tight he couldn’t breathe, the edges of his vision blurring until something hot and wet spilled over onto his cheeks.

(Come on.)

(Whoa, where are we going? Anderson said to wait here.)

(Come on, LT. Think we’ll ever get to poke around here again? Live a little.)

Only he hadn’t. She’d been right there. Right there. And he hadn’t.  

(Tell me you haven’t thought about this.)

(Thinking’s not the same as doing. Maybe, once all this is behind us…)

He dropped the boot, back slamming against the lockers as he buried his head in his hands, the grief that he’d stored down deep in his chest ever since that timer reached zero breaching the damn in a flood of hot tears. He wept himself hollow, hot, swollen and aching, exhaustion creeping in until he felt it laying heavily over his skin, behind his eyes, in the pit of his stomach. Then he just sat silent, eyes red and heavy, arms resting on his knees.

A hulking shape appeared above him. Had he not felt so drained he might have cared more about discovering he hadn’t been alone after all. But when Wrex’s red, horny crest came into view he met the krogan’s fierce stare without shame. Whatever the krogan had to say, he was beyond giving a damn.

“She was a warrior worth mourning,” Wrex said.

Kaidan straightened his posture with mild surprise, but said nothing.

“Shepard chose his companions well. Even those I at first didn’t give him credit for.” He offered a scaly hand, which Kaidan accepted warily. Wrex hauled him effortlessly to his feet, and gave him a brusque nod.

“You are krantt.”

Kaidan wasn’t sure how to respond, but Wrex saved him the trouble by ambling away without further comment. The krogan had been nearly invisible since their return from Virmire. After finding him here Kaidan wasn’t even sure if he’d even left the ship.

He hadn’t considered the possibility that a krogan might mourn a human soldier. But Ashley…had that effect on people.

With a wipe of his eyes Kaidan began piling Ashley’s things into a crate. Once the locker was empty he sealed it, then closed the crate up as well and entered it into the ship’s inventory for the requisitions offer to offload and send to her family. By the time he finished, his grief had been replaced by grim, dogged resolve.

We’re coming for you, Saren. May God help you, you bastard.  

[cherrehx]

okay so its 2am right now and I just thought of something really cute hhhh, so basically, how would kaminari, kirishima, todoroki and bakugou react to finding ship art or something of them and their crush?? I love your writing btw, it's so awesome 💕💕

super long wait, i know. half of this was written when bnha was still my hyperfixation, hence why it's one shots. the headcanons were written now, because i felt bad leaving out denki and eijirou. -cherry

katsuki bakugō:

it was just after nine in the afternoon. katsuki had already gone to sleep as per usual, though tonight he was rudely interrupted by loud knocking on his room's door.

"the hell do you want, loser?!", he shouted, still unsure of who was even at his door. everyone knew by now not to disturb him, so who dared to do so anyways?

getting out of bed and proceeding to open the door, the ash blond was slightly less angered when he saw eijirou standing there. said red head looked frantic because of something. bakugou honestly didn't even want to know what had got him so distraught, but he knew he wouldn't get his well deserved sleep otherwise,

"spit it out, shitty hair."

"we were looking at pictures from the sports festival online and we found something that you should maybe see for yourself!", eijirou started, realizing that he wasn't getting his friend's attention, so he added, "it's about you and (y/n)!"

kirishima was the only one that knew about bakugou's secret crush on you. that's why he wasn't laughing like everyone else in the common room; because what they found may cause complications.

after kirishima had mentioned your name, bakugou was swiftly jogging towards where almost all of his class was sitting gathered around a laptop, which seemed to be mina's, judging by all the leopardy and pink stickers on it.

"out of the way extras!", katsuki stomped over to see what all the fuss was about. from the corner of his eye he saw how you were cowering next to one of the couches, face covered by your hands. at first he couldn't understand why, but when he saw a particular piece of artwork displayed on the laptop screen, he figured you were just majorly embarrassed.

the art that his class found on google was from somebody's blog that was all about the 'heroes of the future!'. needless to say, the blog didn't only deal with the heroes, but also the relationships of them. ever since an encounter at the sports festival that a lot of people saw and shared around, you and bakugou had become a popular so called ship. (the girls explained that 'ship' didn't mean anything related to boats when they teased you about mentioned moment in front of him.)

katsuki couldn't help but feel embarrassed himself, but he also had to keep his cool to not seem suspicious. looking at the drawing of you and him one more time, the ash blond walked over to you, ignoring anything his class was saying.

"(y/n), you ok?", he crouched down to your level, poking your head once. his only response was a quiet hum, followed by a hiccup. worried, katsuki grabbed your hand tightly and pulled you outside the dorm.

the air was nice, not too hot, nor too cold. a light wind was blowing as the moon shone brightly.

bakugou gave you a little space and some time to calm down. when you did, he was quick to ask,

"what's the matter? did you get THAT embarrassed by it?"

you shook your head no. it was something more, but was this the right time to tell him?

"i was really embarrassed at first.", you started, "but then i thought about something and cried."

"about what?", the usually loud boy asked softly. silence was all he got for a good minute until you finally responded,

"you know how they say 'life imitates art'? i really wish it w-was like that..."

now you were the one getting silence as a response. did you really just say that?

"idiot, being all cryptic and shit.", katsuki tried to stay calm, even if he was freaking out on the inside, "if you want a kiss you can have it."

shōto todoroki:

mr. aizawa's classes had a pretty strict schedule most of the time: first the class would get an assignment, that they'd do until said teacher falls asleep. after that, everyone would quietly - in order to not wake up aizawa - do anything they want, really.

for shouto this was more or less just plainly boring, as he was one of the few students that actually did what they had to. he'd finish his work and then wait, because he had nothing else to do. he was most likely to bother midoriya, but today he was very into whatever he was writing down in his little book. so shouto settled for observing the classmates behaviour. well, rather your behaviour.

the half and half boy knew it was weird, but he liked watching you. he liked seeing you, especially when you were happy and smiling. todoroki knew what these 'symptoms' were, but he wanted everything to stay as it was for now.

why he had caught those feelings, he didn't know. he figured it was the way you stood out. you didn't get lost in between the others and he liked that.

while todoroki was deep in thought, ashido had walked over to your desk, where you were doing the assignment in peace and quiet,

"(y/n), look! the other's and i thought about how todoroki always stares at you so intensely, so we created these shipnames! which one do you like better?"

you looked at the paper or rather the newly created words and little pictures drawn by some of your classmates and immediately turned red. flailing your hands around a little, you lied,

"none of these, i don't...like todoroki in that way."

mina looked a tad upset at that, but she understood, nodded and walked back to her table. you sort of felt bad, having killed her excitement, but you didn't need anyone knowing about your secret crush on the stoic one.

speaking of the stoic one, he couldn't hear anything you and mina had talked about. he only saw her walking over, showing you something and you freaking out and sending her away. needless to say, he was curious what had caught you off guard so much. when shouto saw mina throwing away that suspicious piece of paper, he decided to look at it when class ended. even if he thought sticking his hand in the trash was a little gross.

the end of class came sooner than expected. shouto was packing his bag slower than usual, waiting until everyone had left. after they did, he skipped over to the trash can, pulling out the latest addition: a piece of paper that embarrassed (y/n)!

he stuffed it in his bag and carried on walking to his dorm room, where he finally felt safe looking at it, " 'ship names'? why would they want to name a boat after (y/n) and i?", he asked himself, before a certain doodle on the page explained your reaction and the girls' name-mixing. even shouto couldn't help but react in some way, thinking about said doodle happening in real life. that's when he got startled by a knock on his door.

"hey, todoroki. i know you always do your work in class, so i thought i'd come and ask you about...", you drifted off, seeing the light blush on his cheeks and his fire side burning, "...umm, am i interrupting something?"

he was hiding a piece of paper behind his back. you could see just the corner of it, but that was enough for you to identify what paper it was.

"didn't take you for the nosey type.", you akwardly laughed in order to drown out your embarrassment.

"sorry, i got curious.", he looked unusually upset, averting his heterochromatic eyes and letting his arms drop on his sides. you confirmed the paper was indeed the one that mina showed you earlier.

"did you dislike it a lot?", shouto asked without thinking.

now it was your turn to blush.

denki kaminari:

-ok hear me out

-his love language has to be physical touch

-so naturally, when you guys and the rest of the bakusquad had a sleepover, you cuddled

-platonically of course (even though both of you had feelings for one another, but shh)

-oh, but mina couldn't let this one slip

-she HAD to take a picture

-in the morning, when you were still only half awake, mina ecstatically showed her phone into your face

-"LOOK, (Y/N), YOU GUYS ARE THE CUTEST!"

-queue embarrassed (y/n) and denki

eijirō kirishima:

-i feel like with him, you had been like childhood friends

-and back in the day, you guys were all like

-"i'm gonna marry you when i'm older!"

-so you engraved a little "eijirō & (y/n)" into a tree

-years and years later you guys go back to that spot

-just because you wanted to reminisce the good old days

-you guys find the carvings

-"you know, (y/n), i still haven't changed my mind."

-"what do you mean, eijirou?"

-"i'd still marry you."

[five-rivers]

Glowsticks

Sneaking in before midnight on Halloween~

This is another continuation of Exhumed.

.

.

.

McGee had talked to several people about the strangely popular gravestone.  What he had learned made him feel sick.  Literally. He wanted to throw up.  First, the person buried there was the kid that had been found in the park.  Second, the locals had made him into a cult figure practically overnight.  

Or, at least, a tourist trap figure.  These people had no shame.  

On the other hand… Didn’t they say that Daily person was in charge of cults?  Did Amity Park have a cult problem on top of everything else that was going on?  Was the cult the problem, the root problem?  If there even was an actual cult…

Cults were dangerous and took vicious advantage of legal loopholes.  Maybe he should call the FBI.  They were the ones that were supposed to deal with cults.  

He took a deep breath, pulling himself together. No.  This was his case.  His job. He didn’t know that there was a cult involved, not yet.  Besides, it didn’t matter if they were religious so long as they were breaking the law.  Yeah.  

“Are you okay?”

McGee almost jumped out of his skin, his hand twitching towards his firearm before he realized that the person who snuck up on him was a kid.  The kid from earlier, to be precise.

The boy’s eyes narrowed.  “Were you about to pull a gun on me?” he asked.  

“No,” said McGee.  

The boy blinked, suspicion still evident on his face. “You’ve got to be more careful with guns,” he said.  “There’s no reason to go for one just because someone surprised you.”

McGee didn’t grace that with a response.  “What are you doing here, anyway?  Weren’t you across town, earlier?”

“Yeah.  So were you,” said the boy.  Danny. His name was Danny Fenton.  “Why are you here?”

“I asked first.”

“You shouldn’t ask questions you aren’t willing to answer yourself.”

What the hell was up with this kid?  “I’m just trying to get a better feel for the town.”

“Hm,” said Danny.  “I help out here at the cemetery, sometimes.  Got to lay all those ghosts to rest, you know?”

“Don’t you think that’s a little much?” snapped McGee. “Death isn’t supposed to be a roadside attraction.”

“Oh, don’t worry.  We take death very seriously around here,” assured Danny.  “But seriously.  I do help out.  The caretaker lets me take that stuff away when it gets to be too much.”  He nodded at the blank headstone and all the offerings around it.  “Mom likes the flowers.  Jazz is making a collage of some of the cards.  You know.  Stuff like that.”  He shrugged, angling himself away from McGee.  “Someone left a tiny copy of the Tempest once.  In one of those teeny tiny books.  Post.  It had that one passage from Ariel’s Song decorated.  It was nice.  I liked it.”

“What?”

“Ariel’s Song.  Full fathom five thy father lies;/Of his bones are coral made;/Those are pearls that were his eyes;/Nothing of him that doth fade,/But doth suffer a sea-change/Into something rich and strange. Shakespeare.  I think it’s supposed to be a commentary on ghosts, but the guy in the play isn’t actually dead, people just think he is.  So, I’m not really sure how to take it.  You’re a detective, right?  What do you think?”

McGee stared at the teenager. The kid who was buried there was his age.  “This isn’t a joke,” said McGee.  “A person is dead.”

Danny tilted his head. “I’m not joking?”

“How are you even connected to all of this?”  McGee waved his hand, frustrated.  

“I just told you how I’m connected to the cemetery.  If you mean the town…  Well, I do live here.”

“Why do Patterson and Collins know you?”

“I know everyone,” said Danny.  He started backing away.  “You should go get something to eat soon, if you don’t want to be late.”  He turned and disappeared in the crowd.  

What the hell.

.

McGee did not go to get food. He went back to the station.  He had some questions to ask Cameron Daily, and he got the impression that the man was the kind of person to practically live at work.  

When he opened the door, though, he had to stop.

“What is this?” he asked, loudly.  

“Glowsticks,” said one of the secretaries.  “You have seen them before, right?”

“Yes, but why?”

As much as the police department had been infested with Christmas decorations before, it was now covered with glowsticks of all varieties.  

The secretary shrugged. “You’ll find out.  And, no, this isn’t hazing.”  She broke a new glowstick with a snap.

“Right,” said McGee.  “Where’s Daily?”

“Cameron Daily is in the computer bay,” said the secretary, pointing.

“Thanks,” grunted McGee, once again wondering why there was a separate computer bay when everyone had their own desks, computers, and, in some cases, additional laptops.  

Screw it, he might as well ask.  

“Hey, Daily.”

“Mm?”

“Why’s there a separate computer bay?”

“Oh, it’s shielded,” said Daily.  

“Shielded.”

“Yep.  No signals, and the Fentons did some pretty neat stuff to the walls.  Bunch of, ehm, nasty hackers.  We learned our lesson, eventually.”

“The Fentons.”

“Yeah.  And Foley did the firewalls.”

“They’re the ones who did the computer filing system.”

“Uhuh.  Kids are geniuses.  The parents aren’t too shoddy, either.”

“The—” No.  There was no way.  “Are they the same Fentons that hunt ghosts?”

“Yeah.  You wouldn’t think it to look at them, but apparently they live off of their patents.  Made a bunch of fiddly little things that every other mass production factory in the country uses.  Also, they own a toilet paper company.  Not my favorite brand, but it isn’t the worst, honestly.  Kind of wish we’d buy it here, but, no, we get that gross single ply. I swear, that stuff should be classified as a crime against humanity.”

“You let the ghost hunters deal with your computer security.”

“Oh, I know that tone. You met them, huh?”

“Just the kid.”

Daily looked up at McGee over the computer.  “What?”

“I only met the kid. Danny.”

Slowly, Daily uncurled from his hunch in front of the computer.  The man was taller than McGee thought.

“Then what’s your issue? Danny’s a good kid.”

A good kid whose parents were allowed to run roughshod over the town, who was allowed to steal from graveyards, and knew all of the police officers.  For some reason.  

“I heard you’re in charge of monitoring the cult?”

Daily snorted.  “You make it sound like there’s just one.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, after all the ghosts, most religions had to modernize, you know?”

Oh, god, this was part of the tourist trap.  Or the tourist trap was part of this.  Did they recruit from people who actually believed this nonsense?

“There’s more than one cult?”

“Yep.”

“Sounds like quite a job.”

“Eh.  I’m mostly just keeping track of their online activity.”

“So, how are the Fentons involved?”

“They aren’t.  They’re pretty areligious, overall.  Danny’s been almost kidnapped a few times, though.”

“What?”

“What?”

“Kidnapped.  By a cult.”

“Cults.  Gotta remember the plural, man.  Cults.”  Daily was hunching again.  “But, hey, if you’re interested in the subject, I can give you a thorough run-through of this new group that started up last week.  Their philosophy is wild.  I can’t even tell you—”

“Hey.  You’re early,” said Patterson, leaning through the door, her braid swinging.  “Great. Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” lied McGee.  

“Get better at lying,” said Patterson.  “Come on, let’s go.”

.

Patterson and Collins weren’t the only ones there.  In fact, there were more people in the station than there had been that morning. All with glowsticks.  Said glowsticks were being loaded into unmarked cars while office staff and police officers whispered back and forth.

“Did you get the green stuff?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. Gave me more than enough.” Glowing green milk jugs were loaded into a car.  The car McGee would be riding in with Collins and Patterson.

‘Green stuff.’  Was this some kind of bizarre drug smuggling ring? McGee had fallen behind in drug slang, if so.  ‘Green stuff.’  Were they lacing it with glowstick fluid?

Never before had he felt so lost on a case.  Amity Park was messed up.  

“You’ve got the howlers hooked up?” asked Collins.

“I asked Daily to do it this morning.”

“But did he do it?”

“I mean, it looks like it. Are the howlers really that important?”

McGee had no idea what was going on.  

The cars all started off in a group.  Their car was the last to leave and soon peeled off to trundle slowly down back roads.  

“You probably have questions,” said Collins.

“You could say that,” said McGee.  

“You’ve been a good sport about them,” observed Collins.  

“So,” said McGee, drawing out the word.  “What is this about?”

Patterson swallowed a laugh. “Ever hear of the Men in Black?”

“Look, I’m humoring the ghosts.  Conspiracy theories are where I draw the line.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Maybe it’ll stick.  Anyway, here in Amity Park, we deal with their less intelligent cousins.  The Guys in White!”

“That’s not their actual name,” said Collins, glancing back over his shoulder.  “But, well, their appearance fits.”

“Alright, let’s say I believe you.  What does this have to do with the jugs of glowstick fluid in the trunk?”

“Oh, that’s not glowstick fluid,” said Patterson.  “It’s waste from the reactor that powers the town.”

“Don’t worry,” said Collins, hastily, the car swerving somewhat.  “It’s completely harmless!  Not radioactive at all!”

“That’s not what—” started Patterson.  

“You absolutely will not get cancer from it!”

McGee raised a hand.  “You have nuclear reactor fluid in the trunk?”

“It isn’t nuclear reaction fluid,” protested Patterson.  “It’s—"

“Back on track,” interrupted Collins.  

“Yeah.  Anyway.  It’ll trip the Guys in White’s sensors—”

“Eventually,” Collins grumbled.  

“—so we can lead them on a chase.”

“And…  why do we want to do this?”

“Because it’s a quiet month,” said Patterson.  “Don’t want the Guys to get antsy.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means what it means. You’ll see in January.”

McGee looked between his two ‘partners.’  “Are you trying to get me to quit?”

“Because you’re a spy for the county?” asked Patterson.  “Oh, no, never.”

Before McGee could process that statement, the car’s radio crackled to life.  

“We’ve got a class-3 northbound on Orion at 35 miles per hour.  Ectosignature suggests an amorphiform ghost—”

“Hah!” shouted Patterson. “That’s us!  Punch it!”  She twisted the dial on the radio as Collins slammed his foot into the accelerator.  “Bogey to Redrum!  We’ve got followers!”

“Copy, Bogey, this is Redrum. We need a few more minutes to set up. Can you stay out of sight?”

“The hell?”

The radio crackled.  “Forgot you had the new guy!  Don’t shake him up too much, okay?  Over.”

“Copy.  Collins you catch that?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’m taking Pan and Laurel.  The holiday tour.”

“Ooh, good choice.” Patterson held up the radio again. “Yeah, we can manage.  Over.”

Collins went faster. For the next several minutes McGee occupied himself with not throwing up.  He succeeded.  Barely.

“Bogey, this Cam,” said the voice of Daily, “followers are gaining.  They’re on Brassica, just passing High Street.  Triggered the speed cameras.  Over.”

“How many and what type? Over.”

“Three gliders.  Don’t think they’ve spotted you yet, though. Over.”

Gliders?  Who did these people think they were kidding?

“Copy, over,” said Patterson. “Not like those guys care about speeders, though,” she muttered.  McGee could barely hear her over the beating of his own heart.

“Sharp right, brace yourselves,” said Collins, split seconds before matching action to words.

“Redrum to bogey, we’re moving out now, over.”

“Copy.  We’re on our way.  Over.  Head to the park, Collins.”

“Gotcha.”

It didn’t seem possible, but Collins somehow pushed the car to go even faster.  Then, just as quickly as the whole ridiculous thing had begun, the car skidded to a halt in a parking lot.  Seeing his chance, McGee clawed at the door handle and dragged himself out onto the pavement.  

Collins and Patterson, meanwhile, were pulling the almost-certainly-toxic waste out of the trunk and launching it into the glowstick-filled woods with—

“Is that a bazooka?” demanded McGee, so far past his wit’s end that he couldn’t even see it anymore.

“Nah, just a modified T-shirt canon,” said Patterson, stowing the object away again.  “Fentonworks special.”

“I don’t believe you,” said McGee.  

Three – Three things – McGee did not want to call them gliders – raced overhead, jets roaring and wind whistling.  They came to a stop approximately where the ‘reactor waste’ had fallen.  

“What the hell?” whispered McGee, passionately.  

“Come on,” said Collins.  “Time for us to go.”

“Yeah, better to spectate from afar,” agreed Patterson.

“I agree,” said a third voice.

“Oh, Danny,” said Patterson.  “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

The boy walked into McGee’s field of view and glanced down at him before shrugging.  “Couldn’t sleep.”  He looked up, at the park.  “Thanks for this.”

“Had to get them to blow this month’s budget somehow,” said Collins.  “But, really, we should all go before the fireworks start.”

Danny sighed.  “Hope they don’t blow up the fountain again.  It just got fixed.”

“Same,” said Patterson.

“Well, see you later.”

“Yep, we’ve got that wellness check tomorrow,” said Collins. “You don’t have any excuse to forget, this time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said the teen, waving over his shoulder as he walked straight into the dark.

“What,” said McGee.  

“That’s just Danny for you,” said Collins.  “Great kid.  Super creepy.”

“Yeah.”

“How’d he even know we’re here?” asked McGee, trying to keep his voice even.  

“He did give us that eeeeehhhhhhh—reactor waste,” said Patterson.  “Come on, get up, we’ve got to—”

A small explosion sounded from the park.  

“Seriously.  I don’t want to have to pick you up.”

“I’d wind up doing most of the lifting,” grumbled Collins, who was sliding into the driver’s seat.

Patterson put her hands on her hips.  “Excuse you?”

There was another, larger explosion.  McGee climbed back into the car.

As they drove, he realized that no one had made fun of his name. Not even once.  

Amity Park was weird.  

[stxleslyds]

MY TOUGHTS ON PART FOUR OF RED HOOD BY CHIP ZDARSKY :)

THIS ONE IS A MESS.

But first a little rant about my feelings about Red Hood in general at the moment.

I am not going to lie, it took me a long time to read this comic, I am kind of tired of reading this book, I feel like I lower my expectations each issue that passes by and I still get disappointed at the result.

Maybe I just love a Jason Todd that is no more and I have to accept the one we have now, but here is the thing, if this is what we get then I just don’t like it, and on rough days I hate it. These are very negative thoughts about one of the two DC characters that I love and I don’t enjoy having them, I don’t want DC to keep giving us this version of Jason or these versions of Jason, each time they change little things that just change the character from the one that he once was even more.

I feel a bit defeated about it and I don’t know, on one side I want to fight and scream so they can finally give Jason the characterization he deserves and for them to give up the bland formula they have going on with him and on the other side I just want them to stop, stop writing Jason Todd/Red Hood and that is so sad, imagine loving a character and wanting the publisher to stop making content with them because what they give is just terrible. I don’t know, this is a rant that I felt like writing before I read the issue (I did skimm it briefly), so don’t take this as part of the review, its just me explaining my feelings right now.

Anyway, I will start the review now, sorry for the rant.

Wonderful, this book is on crack (or should I say Cheerdrops?), the thing with this particular issue is that I had a great laugh, it’s funny but in a good way, it's stupid and it kind of doesn’t make sense, the only way to describe Zdarsky’s writing here is with a phrase that we say here in my country “se pisa el palito”, which means that he lies about something and after some time he reveals the truth himself by mistake or because he got confused, in this case Zdarsky makes Jason say something like “this time I have come prepared” but he is actually not prepared at all and like two pages later (within the same scene) he has Jason call himself an amateur, it's very weird and to me it translates to Zdarsky not liking Jason or just not caring about him at all.

And that sucks and it really bothers me. As I have said before this anthologies book might be called Batman: Urban Legends but the particular story I am reading is a RED HOOD one, I am not here for Batman content, I am here for Jason Todd content.

The fact that we are not getting a Jason-specific story in a Red Hood book is killing me, it would suck if we get, let’s say, a Nightwing book and its all about his relationship with Barbara…That is not a Nightwing book, that’s a Nightwing and (fake) Oracle book.

Anyway, this issue in general is like a connector, the things that happen are all happening because they will be developed in the next issues but what is said here is absolutely absurd so I will be talking about that.

This issue starts with a flashback and Jason from the present (who is currently a popsicle because he fell in Freeze’s trap) having a monologue. The flashback is set when Jason finds out that his birth mother is alive and is being used by the Joker so he (in civilian clothes) and Batman at doing some reckon. What I want to dive into is the monologue because it's interesting but also very dumb so here we go.

“What was I supposed to do? I thought I was an orphan; I carried that sadness and anger everywhere I went and then I found the woman who gave birth to me halfway across the world. I found her…and the Joker. He was blackmailing my mother, forcing her to help him steal medical supplies, which he replaced with a deadly gas, that was being hauled to a village.”

“Batman knew what he had to do. Save people, forever saving people. Batman has always been a master of control, every situation, everyone around him. He’s always known just how to handle everything. Until I came along.”

“How could he be surprised? How could the great Batman not know? I wouldn’t listen to him and he couldn’t hear me. And the fucking cycle continues.”

The first part of the monologue is pretty simple it's basically setting the scene in time and space for the reader and it also gives us a little insight on how Jason was feeling at the time which was quite nice. It sets up the fact that Jason wanted to help his birth mother out of a horrible situation, he wanted to save her from the Joker. (Hear that DC, haters and fanon, Jason was a good Robin and a loving and caring son!!!!!)

In the second paragraph of the monologue I would have assumed that Dick never existed in this universe because the idea of Batman being able to control Robin!Dick or Gotham back in the day by himself is incredibly funny to me but because Dick exists and has been mentioned in this story already I will just take it as Zdarsky wanting to really push the “Jason could never reach the level of good Robin because he was reckless and nothing like Dick” and the “Dick was always completely obedient and Batman’s perfect little soldier” narratives. It sucks man, this is like bad fanon made real and I don’t like it!

During this part we also have a little dialogue between Batman and Jason where the narrative of Jason being so incredibly reckless is explicitly shown once more.

Let me repeat myself, Jason didn’t take on the Joker because he wanted to prove himself to the Bat or to prove that he was as good a Robin as Dick was, Jason did what he did because he wanted to save the last person that he had that he felt was family, he wanted to save the woman who birthed him and that he was hoping he could call a mother. He worried and cared for this woman and then he was betrayed and it ended up ending with him dying at the hands of a mad man that to this day is still alive.

Jason wasn’t reckless for the sake of being reckless, he took the decisions he took because he didn’t feel heard by the man that was supposed to protect him and care for him, a man that had the same feelings of sadness over being an orphan, a man that despite being the greatest detective to ever detective in the multiverse couldn’t understand that Jason felt like the woman that was his birth mother could come first in his list of priorities. Jason was a child and the adult responsible of him at the time bares the fault of his death as much as the mad man that committed the crime.

There, I fucking said it.

Gladly in the third paragraph of the monologue Jason calls out Bruce on his bullshit.

Also, what the hell was Bruce thinking leaving Jason stranded in the middle of the dessert, the man literally takes the only mode of transportation away from him. What the hell.

That’s it for the first glimpse at the past, now we are in the present with Ice!Jason where Zdarsky lies to our faces, he says that Jason is prepared for this situation…I am sorry but I do not believe this.

Anyway, Jason does manage to break the ice but he trips on the iced floor almost as soon as he breaks free and falls in a hole. Are you kidding me? I know this is supposed to be funny but Jason has been written as this incompetent dumbass in this book so much that this is just insulting.

He manages to escape for three or four seconds but he realises once more that the whole thing was a trap because Freeze had actually closed all the exists with ice because he meant to trap the Bat (also maybe Freeze is under the effects of Cheerdrops?), Jason also tries to use his guns even though he had already thought about the fact that they wouldn’t fire because of the cold AND he didn’t pack his explosives, yeah… “I am now prepared”, sure Jan.

The last thing we see in this scene is Freeze getting ready to ice Red Hood once more before we start jumping from past to present scenes as Jason’s monologue continues, he does that a lot in this issue, it’s quite impressive.

We jump into the past and we see Jason going to help his mother in his Robin suit, her betrayal and the Joker being ready to torture and kill a child. From there we go back to the present where Jason manages to ask Oracle for help but not anyone’s he asks for the Batman’s help.

First let’s talk about the monologue that happens across these scenes because it has some interesting takes.

“Stupid amateur, its not going to be okay, not if we keep repeating the same mistakes. He never trusted me, I never trusted him. Neither of us lived up to the idea of ‘Batman and Robin’, the ‘Dynamic Duo’. Because Batman and Robin requires trust, it requires knowing you can’t do it alone.”

Let’s be honest as per the modern take on Batman and Robin (if it includes Bruce as Batman) the dynamic is quite dysfunctional, Batman doesn’t know how to care for a child and children shouldn’t be responsible for an adult’s safety, so the whole thing has been weird for every Robin, its not something that happened only to Jason but here is the thing, in Under the Red Hood (which is canon in this story) when Batman and Red Hood fought side by side Bruce said the following: “…Neither of us has the strength to take him out, it will require skill and teamwork. It happens before I have time to question it, a manoeuvre that comes without thought, executed as practiced and practiced many times in the cave.”

So, him and Jason worked well, they trusted each other and the work they were doing but that is not all, because they are in the middle of a fight the Red Hood doesn’t act recklessly and takes the opportunity attack the Bat when he is vulnerable, he sticks to the coordinated fight because he trusts it will work. Batman’s thoughts confirm that because he continues saying this: “To complete it (the manoeuvre) I’m forced to leave myself unprotected from an attack, an attack from the Red Hood. But the attack never comes, he just takes cover from the blast, like practiced.”

– Batman: Under the Red Hood, chapter 10.

This thing alone, written in 2005 kills the narrative of Bruce’s Batman and Jason’s Robin not working well together.

Secondly, I have to laugh about what it's actually said in the very last panels. I am sorry but it's too funny to me, I know it acts as a parallel to Jason asking for the Bat when he was about to die but this is a man, a grown man that has experience on this job, this situation would have never happened if Jason was written fairly. This is funny because of all the people in the world I would never imagine the Red Hood asking for Batman’s help. Fuck that.

Oracle of course contacts Batman but let me say something really quickly, Barbara and Bruce are both acting like Jason getting in trouble and needing help is an annoyance. What the hell is wrong with these people? Why would Jason work with Oracle or Batman in the first place?

Batman gets in the Batmobile as soon as he can and dares call Jason his son. No thank you sir, I will not be taking that kind of bullshit today. Anyway, the Bat also has a monologue because he can’t be less, here it goes.

“Jason. Dammit, son. I’m on my way, I won’t let you…” (explosions) “You’re alive. In the here, in the now. I know this, like magic…with a curse…You’re alive.”

“I don’t need to be there again, in the past. I’ve learned my lessons, the guilt doesn’t help me, it doesn’t have a hold on me anymore. You’re alive, Jason and I intend to keep it that way.”

To this I have to say the following, the only reason why Bruce is not feeling guilty about what happened to Jason is because Jason forgave Bruce/Batman for not arriving in time in order to save Jason from the explosion back in that warehouse all those years ago. Jason forgave Bruce when the final confrontation happened in UtRH. He did it because he believed that Bruce tried and still didn’t make it.

- Batman: Under the Red Hood, chapter 13.  

And something else, Bruce might have been “keeping Jason alive” but he has harmed him. Rebirth RHatO #25 exists, I don’t know if it's canon within this particular story but I can’t not bring it up if this is what this man has to say.

My take on the Batman and Red Hood relationship is that it shouldn’t exist. Red Hood is not a Batman villain but he IS a Batman antagonist. STOP making Batman and Red Hood work together, with how things ended in UtRH Jason would never work with Bruce again. I am sorry but the concept of the Batfamily with Jason as a willing participant is the biggest lie this fandom and Lobdell gave us.

Enough of my takes, let's go back to the issue because it's ending is closer and the funniest panels in this whole ass book are coming!

Batman does Batman shit and as he grapples out of the Batmobile, he manages to get Ice!Jason out of a truck and everything comes to a stop, the bad guys come out of said vehicle and one of them is going in Red Hood's direction with the intention of killing him, Batman of course saves Jason and starts fighting the rest of the baddies.

I will show you funny panel number one.

You really want to make me believe that Bruce can pull that move, shut up!!!! There is no way! That’s some Nightwing level of leg work, stop it, if the Bat pulls that move he will break something or get stuck like that…

Ahh it doesn’t matter because as Batman finishes defeating all the baddies he goes to Jason’s side and here is where funny panel number 2 comes!

STOP IT, WHAT THE HELL IS THISSS? I am losing my mind over this, have you ever seen something and thought “oh this is wrong wrong” like what? This interaction is so wild to me, everything about it makes no sense…Imagine putting Jason Todd in such a vulnerable position that he is, I don’t know, happy or glad that the Bat showed up and that Batman would say that he will always be there for Jason, this shit is hilarious.

But that’s not the end, at this point nothing should shock me (as far as character designs) but this dude shows up…

Who the hell is this guy, and why does he look like that, why are all these new character designs the same and horrible? He reminds me of the weird discount-Joker-looking dude that we had in Rebirth RHatO #52

Anyway, the new dude that will be called Cheer (apparently) and Freeze ice Batman as well and that’s it, our Red Hood related suffering is over up until next month!

This one, this one was wild, I don’t know what else to say about it…I am honestly drained after reading the issue and writing this.

Let me know what you thought about this issue and if you want to read my reviews of the previous parts I will link them here! Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3!

[rosaliepostsstuff]

Chapter 1 - Of quidditch, detentions and birthdays

series masterlist

tag list for this series:  @weasleysbees​ all George fics: @hufflepuff5972​

if you’d like to be added, send a DM or an ask

warnings: swearing, mentions of wounds, slight mention of food, alcohol drinking

word count: 1823

a/n: hope it’s a nice opening that will keep you interested and give you the feel of the whole series;  we couldn’t have a fic taking place during ootp without a classic detention with umbridge sorry

I’d love to know what you think about it!

—————①—————

Quidditch. You were decent on a broomstick, but the catching and throwing part has never been your strong suit. The summer sun was blazing hot, not helping you focus on the game. Suddenly Ron took a shot at one of the makeshift posts, the quaffle was speeding in your direction and you panicked slightly – lost your balance on the broomstick and dangled upside down. As you grasped the stick for dear life, the ball hit you square in the forehead, knocking you out.

“Ha-ha-ha,” you mocked George who was wheezing with laughter beside you. “That was years ago. Besides, it’s called the sloth-grip roll, you’re just not on that level yet” “No-no it was brilliant – you saved the game, you just weren’t there to see it anymore,” he tried to regain his composure.

You sighed and shook your head with a small smile. He gave you a wide grin and draped his arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to his side.

You were watching the try-outs together, not really paying attention until it was Ron’s turn. In the distance, you could see Fred juggling beaters’ bats behind Angelina’s back. “D’you think he’ll get in?” you asked curiously. He shrugged and made one of his faces, so you jabbed him on the side with a finger.

“Ron’s good, isn’t he? He should get in…” you worried. “Yeah, yeah, he’s alright. You’ve seen all those other slacks, he’s got a good chance,” he reassured you.

You crossed your arms on your chest and rested your head on his side. “I hope so. It means a lot to him.”

 —————①—————

 “Oh but that is absolutely ridiculous!” you exasperated, “It’s fucking torture..!” you pointed at Harry’s hand.

You had been chatting with Hermione, Ron and Harry in the courtyard, late afternoon, and noticed the wound on his hand, then made them explain everything in detail. It made you furious.

“First they try to make us dumb, then re-shape us - using violence?!” you whisper-yelled, then noticed three’s terrified expressions.

“Eh hem” you heard behind your back. “Oh for fucks sake…” you mouthed silently and slouched your shoulders, sighing in defeat. “Miss Y/L/N, is it?” She knew your name well, although up until this point you tried not to step out of line, from the very first lesson with Umbridge you showed your dissatisfaction with the new regime rules. Much to Fred and George’s amusement as you usually tried to avoid conflict whenever possible.

With a stoic expression, you turned on your heel to face her. “Yes, professor?” “You have to agree this kind of language does not suit a young witch like yourself. It is in your best interest that we work on your attitude a bit as well. I’ll see you in my office after dinner, dear,” she finished with that sickening smile and walked off.

 Defeated, you approached George and Fred at the table and sat down in silence. They glanced at you curiously. “Why the long face, sweet cheeks?” Fred asked, making you snicker and a small smile broke out on your face. “I-“ you elongated, “had an encounter with Umbridge.” “Oof..” grimaced George. “Yikes, you looked like you were about to maul her last class. Too bad I wasn’t there to see it this time around, what’d you do?” Fred propped his chin on his palm, abandoning the food. “She appeared behind my back in the middle of my tirade about her,” another set of oofs and acknowledging nods, “a strong-worded one…” “Oh this is brilliant, why weren’t we there…” Fred expressed with amusement.

George found the situation quite funny as well but was less expressive about it because he felt bad for you just a bit more than his twin. “I-I... I’m sure you can imagine,” you tried to drop the topic, getting busy with the plate in front of you. They didn’t know about her method of discipline and you weren’t keen on letting them know. “Tsk- whatever, don’t tell your best friends,” he pouted, then brought the conversation to their newest developments with the Skiving Snackboxes.

 ‘I will respect my superiors’ was written out underneath a bandage on your left hand. You’ve been successfully hiding it for almost a week, telling George you cut yourself during potions.

You felt a sharp pain and winced as he grabbed your hand to speed you up on your way to hang out by the lake. “Oh, sorry, Cherry!” he apologized immediately and stroked your hand delicately with concern, “I forgot…” You smiled at him reassuringly, “It’s alright.” “Does it still hurt so much..?” he frowned slightly, confused, “It should’ve started healing by now…”

It would’ve if you hadn’t spent every evening in the toad’s office.

You shrugged dismissively and started walking again, George following. “I don’t think that’s good, Y/N. Maybe you should go to Pomfrey..?” “Noo, it’s fine, I’m sure it’ll heal in no time,” – just a couple more days of detention, you thought. “Well, let me see it, at least,” he said softly and you felt faint. Not only would he find out about the black quill and freak out, but you also hid it from him, deliberately, lied even.

“Y/N” he repeated in a more serious tone. “George, it’s fine, really” you still tried to shrug it off, knowing well it was a lost cause. He sensed something was off. He stopped walking, expecting you to do the same. When you looked at him, he reached out his hand for you to show him the bandage and you obliged.

You held your breath as he unwrapped the dressing. You only dared to look up at him after a few long seconds of silence.

His eyes were still trained on the words, jaw clenched and he started caressing the skin around the wound with his thumb.

He then looked at you and you spoke without words.

You were sorry for not telling him.

He was disappointed but concerned about you.

You wanted to reassure him you were holding up okay.

And he was furious with Umbridge.

“Ferula,” he cast and put his wand away as your hand got wrapped up in clean bandages.

“Please, don’t do anything stupid now…” you worried, “I don’t need revenge.” He smirked a bit, but remained rather serious, “You’ve known me for too long…”

He let go of your hand and resumed walking, putting his hands in his pockets. “I mean it, Georgie. It will have changed nothing and it’s no good if she just makes you write those stupid lines too.” You sighed, “Promise me you’ll be more careful around her. And Fred too.” “Brave of you to assume I can control him,” he snickered, making you smile. “but I can try if that’ll make you happy.” “Thank you,” you said with a big grin, wrapping your arm around his. “Speeaaking of making you happy,” he paused for emphasis, looking up into the sky, “your birthday’s coming up. You didn’t make any plans, did you?” “Mmm, depends what you’re offering.”

 —————①—————

 Your birthday was in the middle of the week this year, so you planned to have a proper party over the weekend. And the evening of the actual birthday, George booked for himself.

It was late, you took a shower and as per instructions – changed into comfy PJs. Excited, you walked down the steps and into the common room.

There were only a few last stragglers left in there, buried in rolls of parchment, probably writing last-minute essays.

No George in sight.

Next to the couch in front of the fire, you saw blankets and pillows spread out, and some snacks on the coffee table. Walking up closer you noticed a little note in George’s hand-writing:

Do not touch or you’ll regret it

You chuckled under your breath and the round door opened, revealing George with two mugs in hands. He was also wearing some pyjama pants and a comfy jumper.

“Heeey!” he greeted with a wide grin. “Good evening” you replied with a smile and a little nod. “That all you?” you gestured at the table as he set down the mugs. “Unless you want to count Fred’s snickering as help,” he complained sitting down and you did the same.

“Oooh, hot chocolate..!” you exclaimed leaning over the mug in front of you.

George reached behind him and revealed a bottle of firewhisky and you chuckled. “For a bit of kick.” He opened the bottle, then hovered it over your mug and glanced at you, asking for permission and you nodded.

He poured a little bit into both mugs.

“Happy seventeen!” he toasted and you clinked delicately, not to spill the hot liquid, then gave it a taste, letting its warmth pour through your bodies.

“How was your day, Cherry?” he asked, getting comfy on the pillows and wrapping both his hands around the warm mug.

You didn’t see him much that day, with the exception of meals, as you took many more N.E.W.T. classes than him.

“Alright. Went by quickly. Snape wished me a happy birthday.” “Oooh” “Yeah, I don’t know if he was being sarcastic or not. Knowing him, he could be, even with birthday wishes… how about you?” you took another sip of the hot chocolate. “Mmm... We might be getting closer to figuring out how to stop the nosebleeds,” he opened a box of biscuits, “but we need to read up on it a bit more before testing it.”

 “That’s not the end of my surprises,” he said after you finished the conversation about nosebleed nougats, standing up for a moment to retrieve a small packaging he then presented to you with a giddy smile. You placed it in your lap and let your hands ghost over the ribbon, “I was about to say you didn’t have to, but then I remembered you’re a rich business owner now.” you teased him, earning a small laugh. He bit his lip and waited for you to continue.

It was a book, the newest tome of a series you and George would geek out about together. It had just come out.

Screeching out of joy you tackled him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You managed to get it already?!” you questioned. “Yup. Blood, sweat and tears it cost me, but I’ve got it,” he said proudly. “Thank you, Georgie” you gave him one last squeeze and pulled away to admire the book once more. “You’re welcome, love. D’you wanna start reading it tonight?” he asked with clear excitement in his voice. You nodded and opened the book on the first page right away.

You stayed up late that night, taking turns in reading out loud for as long as you were able to fight off the tiredness. Eventually, it was just the two of you, immersed in your favourite fantasy adventure, the soft crackling of the fire serving as a background.

You couldn’t have asked for a better seventeenth birthday.

[aliciadelaplaya]

So what should TRF do, exactly?

Yet again there have been almost defeaning calls on SM for TRF to DO SOMETHING about the  Sussexes.  So, I’d like to address this question, maybe throw in something of a reality check.

Most people should know by now that it is not in HMTQ’s power to remove the Sussex titles.  This can only be done by an Act of Parliament, and primary legislation at that. 

This means that the “motion” has to be debated by both the House of Commons and House of Lords. 

Now, just think for a minute, a debate, in the house of commons, with all those Black Female Labour MPs banging on about removing the titles from the, supposedly, first bi-racial member of TRF. Goodness, if people thought that the Sussexes incoherent and contradictory mud slinging about “conversations” about the colour of Archie’s skin was damaging to TRF, how much worse would it be to hear elected representatives of the British people (however ignorant, biased and downright stupid) accuse TRF of racism in The Mother of Parliaments.  Now that would be seriously damaging. 

And of course The British Government has far more important things it needs to Parliamentary time for.

Also, there is some sort of notion floating around Social Media that if HMTQ asks Parliament, then it will immediately be given.  Anyone who knows anything about the hundreds of years that it has taken the UK to go from an absolute to constitutional monarchy knows damn well that a) HMTQ would never dream of asking and b) HM’s Government would in no way automatically acceed to any request made by the Sovereign. 

Some people seem to think that we live in some sort of medieaval kingdom with an all powerful Monarch. 

Yet,  there are still those who are jumping up and down, calling HMTQ and PC fit to burn because they are “Not Doing Anything”

OK, so put your money where your mouth is? 

What should they do? 

Exactly. 

Go on,

tell us. 

What would you do if one of your sons or brothers, daughters or sisters had got themselves ensnared with a dangerous narcissist? When every word of warning, every well-meant piece of advice does nothing more than drive them further into the arms of their addiction.

What would you do if their mental state before they met this person was a matter of family concern and now, far from your care, deaf to your entreaties, was publicly deteriorating to the point that they have become a world-wide laughing stock?

Tell us.  What would you do?  They are an adult, one who has not been sectioned, free to make their own choices, to lead their own life.  They are your family.  What do you do?

How exactly are you going to stop him talking about you, spreading lies and gossip?  Go on, tell us, we’re dying to know.

What would you do if your beloved family member had made it clear to you that if their spouse leaves them, they will kill themselves?  Go on, what would you do?

What would you do if you believed that anything your family did could be the cause of anger on the part of the narcissist and put your loved one in danger.  What would you do, exactly, to stop them? Please tell us.  There are a lot of people out there who would love to know.

“Cut them off” many people are crying!  But that is what we know PC has done, albeit after providing his younger son and his wife with a substantial gift to help set them up in their new lives, as per the Megxit agreement. 

Tell the truth about the surrogates?  Yes, we would all like that, we know that niether of those children were born of her body, that they are not entitled to a place in the line of succession.  Yet, however much we jump up and down and say that TRF is “public property”, the fact is, they too are still entitled to basic human rights, and one of those is privacy.  It is not for TRF to tell the truth about the surrogacies, it is not their story to tell.  It is for Harry and his wife.  One day the truth will come out, it always does.  The TRF can not be the ones to let the cat out of the bag.  They just can not.

OK, so people jump up and down saying that HMTQ and PC are showing weakness by not responding to all these attacks.  So tell us, what exactly would  you do?  Exactly, what would you have done when?

They said that you don’t own the rights to the word Royal (which is true)? When every single speech that woman made duing lockdown by Zoom has a dig at your family.  Would you respond?  How?  Exactly.

When they set up a photoshoot trampling over war graves, insulting the memories of both the US and the UK fallen?  What would you have done to stop it?  Go on, do tell?

I can’t be arsed to dig out the list of all the insults, swipes etc that these two have levelled at TRF, HMTQ, PC etc.  Geniunely because I’ve forgotten most of them, there have been so many, they have lost their currency, they have been devaluted.  Even the massive fall out from the “bombshell” whineathon with OW, was overtaken by more whinging, it’s a deluge.  How could the sitatuation have been helped if, as it was rumoured PC wanted to do, each accusation was thoroughly challenged.  Can you imagine?

How many of you own or run companies?  How many of you have had, in any shape or form had people complain to you about products or services?  How many of you have received unjustified/maliciious/ignorant complaints - 100% I would guess.  And what is the best way of dealing with these?  Do you engage and argue with every minor point, do you want to “win” the argument.  Does it make you feel better to win by beating the complainent over the head with your greater wisdom, teaching them a lesson, showing them for the stupid, ignorant people they are?  What happens if you engage?  It never bloody stops.  But if you reply thanking them profusely for the incredible amount of time they have taken to give you feedback, if you thank them for their custom, if you offer them a discount/money back.  If you ARE NICE TO THEM.  Guess what?  THEY HAVE NO WHERE TO GO!  NOWHERE. Believe me, I’ve done both and I can tell you hands down which is the most satisfying and, ultimately the most productive in the long term.

The situation is the same here, if TRF engages in any shape or form it will be playing directly into the Narcs playbook and the Sussexes will push back, it will excite them, thrill them, give them power.  It will be more fuel for their global whinging and victimhood. It will be more interminable articles in Hello and Page Six (Does anyone read these publications) Look at the few times TRF have pushed back and H has come in, all guns blazing with legal letters (and what happened to all that, we wonder).   Have you noticed that since the word got out that TRF were not going to stand by silently, the BS stories about HMTQ having zoom calls with the mythical child, buying waffle makers have stopped?

They are much more careful now when they try to bring HMTQ into their lunacy.

“Love me, hate me, but NEVER ignore me” is the Narcs motto and it will be driving Harry’s wife mad that they have been completely iced and are not rising to their constant baiting.  But some of the Megxiteers are.  Effectively, the Megxiteers are doing the Sussexes work for them.  That sure is some fuel for the narc.

It makes me laugh when the MSM and SM get their knickers in a twist about the latest fuckwittery coming out of Montecito (or whever they don’t live).  They want the child to be christened in Windsor with HMTQ present.  Don’t make me larff!  That is never going to happen.  This is absolute kite flying at it’s worst.  It’s poking the bear and all these ridiculous Royal Reporters nod their  heads and make seemingly wise podcasts about the prospect of this happening (and they can do it with - mostly - straight faces), as if it was actually a possibility when I’d like to think that they, like me, believe that H and his wife have been well and truly iced, they are personas non grata. 

When the wife buggered off back to Canada after the Commonwealth service leaving her useless husband to tell more lies on his own, rather than with her at his side, I was convinced then that she will never set foot on these shores again and I stand by that view now as I did then. 

So, the latest stick with which the megxiteers have chosen to beat TRF with is that the second child is now on the website as being in the line of succession.  Yes, it is an absolute abomination, yes, it offends every fibre of my being, yes I want to expose these two evil hypocrites for this egregregious fraud that they are perpetrating on TRF and the rest of the British people.  Of course, like most of you, I want to see justice done, and I want it done NOW.  But life isn’t like that.  and just as Caesar’s wife has to be above suspision so do our (much loved) RF.  Look how we all noticed the careful wording of the Baby congrats on the birth of the second child, they know, we know, but TRF have to play a staight bat, they just have to.

While, in the SM bubble we can all get ourselves wound up, upset, angry, sure that the monarchy will fall etc etc outside, in the real world, most people don’t give a flying fuck about Harry.  He’s an idiot, an ex-royal, gone, finished.  He is not important either inside or outside TRF.

HE IS IRRELEVANT.

And, if anyone is wondering while all this stuff about book deals is coming out  now. I give you this:

The Mail on Sunday appeal - will probably run into next year The Bullying accusations - will probably run into next year. Tom Bower’s book (this is a biggy) - to be published next year?

The Sussexes are aware they are losing popularity, that is why each pronouncement is more and more ludicrous and each Hello article more and more desperate.

The Sussexes are aware they are under attack by forces outside TRF, and they are making their pre-emptive strikes at the low hanging fruit, the soft underbelly of his family. 

TRF are doing exactly the right thing.  Keep Calm, Carry On and while ignoring them won’t make them go away, it will make them look increasingly ridiculous.

This is true strength, not to rise to the bait, to carry on regardless. Remember our Queen has a strong and deeply held Christian faith, turning the other cheek is part of that, whether we like it or not.   TRF should not, under any circumstances sink to the level of Harry and his wife. 

Let’s just enjoy the H show for what it is, a mentally unstable ensnared fool doing everything he can to ensure he continues to receive the favours (sexual and otherwise) of the narcissist he married.  Because, imho, that is what it’s all about. 

Remember the engagement interview.  “I hope she loves me as much as I love her”. 

Sorry mate, that ship has sailed and nothing, nothing you can do will bring it back.

[mallowstep]

visual impairment in the uk in the early 20th century preliminary research

so it's july, disabilities pride month, i'm researching for watlcitf (1910s ireland au), and i figured i should share what i'm looking at.

(the title for this post is so incredibly specific but that's because most research is. my previous post for watlcitf was like, 2k words exclusively going through census data for one census and one county in ireland. i named maybe twenty characters.)

anyway, disclaimers out of the way, tagging @foxstride because i think they'll be interested in this, let's get started.

unlike last time, i have a specific research goal: to determine what jay's life, as a blind person, would be in the uk (specifically, ireland) in the early 20th century (specifcally, 1900-1914), given that he's from a well-off family.

so i have the benefit of being a bit more focused.

unfortunately, i don't have a great backlog of information. i can't just pull up the national archives and start going through census data. that's alright, what else is research for?

i'm going to try to keep to things that are broadly accessible, but if i can't find things on the internet, i will be turning to my university's library resources.

getting my footing

so after checking that the obvious search (various combinations of the keywords form the title) didn't pull up anything particularly useful, i started going after disabilities in general in early 20th century england.

(i know i'm not set in england, but i also know that i can find broad coverage of information about the uk by starting my research in england.)

before i do that, thoough, we did have britannica's history of the blind, something i found fairly unhelpful. i already know braille was around by the 1910s, and then for some reason it tailspins into the us, which is exceptionally unhelpful.

(an interesting story might be sending jay abroad for a better education, but this is not that particular historical au.)

anyway, as per usual, britannica told me a lot of what i already knew and didn't offer any good leads to new information. (i draw the line at buying books for a fanfic. this is a one-shot. i am going to have written more about my research for it than the actual fic. sigh.)

so next up: historical england's a history of disability, which covers a wonderfully long time range, making it good for anyone from the middle ages to the recent past.

i jumped straight to disability in the 19th century, because their 20th century starts covering 1914 and on.

for those following along at home, the 4 headings in the sidebar are clickable links to articles with more information.

i know jay is going to be living at home, so while i did skim through the section on asylums and workhouses, neither of those are applicable here. we're skipping straight to the daily life of disabled people.

since about 50 years pass between the main time period of this article and my time period, i'm not sure how much i can rely on the attitudes section, but jumping off places.

some key quotes:

"These were the ambivalent Victorian attitudes towards disability - a combination of fear, pity, discomfort and an idea of divine judgement."

"Henry Fawcett (1833-1884), blinded as a young man, became Postmaster-General in 1880; he introduced the parcel post and the postal order."

"In 1838 the London Society for Teaching the Blind to Read was formed and in 1866 the Worcester College for the Blind ('for the blind sons of gentlemen') became the world's first further education provision for disabled people."

"In 1868 the British and Foreign Blind Association was formed by Dr Thomas Armitage, initially to promote the use of braille. It was to become the Royal National Institute for the Blind."

"In 1894 the first branch of the Guild of the Brave Poor Things (motto: 'Happy in My Lot') was formed as a self-help group for people with physical disabilities. They described themselves as a group to "make life sweet for the blind and crippled folk of all ages"."

so great! that gives me a good number of jumping off places. nothing ideal, but it's a start.

henry fawcett

seems like a good enough start. researching attitudes won't help me entirely, here, mostly in that i'll be better off starting with other things and seeing what i pick up.

well according to wikipedia, he was blinded as an adult while he was already in education.

that's incredibly frustrating.

moving on.

royal national institude for the blind

as i know this exists, i figured it's as good a place to start as any.

sticking with wikipedia, because frankly, sticking with wikipedia is as good a place to start as any, we're on the wikipedia page for royal national institute of blind people

wikipedia's history summary was saddening.

moving on.

rnib's history page is next up on the list.

well, the first key takeaway is the adoptation of a braille magazine ("progress") and braille contractions. i'm not doing an overview of braille here, because these research posts are primarly for my own benefit, and i'm comfortable with my understanding of braille as it stands.

alright, i'm frustratingly limited in what i've learned, but i'm making progress.

the white cane

i took a bit of a change of course. we went back to the drawing board: literally just googling "history of blind people" in vain hope but lo! i actually stumbled upon something.

a list of facts about the white cane lead me to the wikipedia page for the white cane lead me to an archived web link about the history of orientation and mobility and good lord! have i finally started getting somewhere.

this is entirely focused around the us, and i'm not going to type up a summary here as it's quite long.

that said, it's alltogether helpful. the biggest takeaway is that mobility was taught by individual teachers going home to home. exceptionally helpful tidbit, that is.

the thing with historical research is that there are things that feel like reasonable assumptions to make often aren't, so i feel quite happy in that knowledge.

to the specifics: ireland

alright, while i'm mostly unsatisfied with what i've done, i want to move on. i have a feeling that i'm going to need to revisit this. i actually just changed the title to preliminary research to account for this.

sigh.

so we've moved to the history of ncbi, the national council for the blind of ireland.

they were founded in 1931, meaning that my instinct to start in england was correct, but still. their history page confirms that home teaching is the big thing at the start.

summary and moving on

okay so i went to do some research into the history of education in the england (the status of ireland vs england is at the moment Complex, but suffice to say that for most purposes i'm searching for english history) to see if i could find any sort of wrap-up about home tutors vs schools, and.

lo.

i found something fairly useful. it's an elemetary education act for blind and deaf children, which, like, god. so useful.

laws are just. good ways of establishing the general outlook of a time period.

so.

unfortunately.

it does not apply to ireland and scotland, and yes, i do have to do research into the history of education in ireland, but i feel i have hit some kind of nebulous conclusion.

because this is half research notes and half helpful information for others (if anyone else needs this kind of specific information), i'll try to summarize here

schools were possibly able to handle blind students. by "handle" i mostly mean "provide a seat and something resembling education", but that's better than nothing.

most mobility, braille, etc., skills seem to be taught by instructors going home to home

thanks to the relatively low traffic, population density, etc., blind people seem to have a decent amount of mobility

that's all for now. my skills in research are not historical research, so i can't promise that like. i have the best critical thinking skills here. etc. etc.

<3

[germanicseidr]

Sinterklaas Debate

Zwarte Piet/Black pete is currently a huge discussion in both the Netherlands and Belgium. The faithful helpers of Sinterklaas, who give children presents and joy, are seen as racist by a very small group of people. This very small group of people are ruining a modern day celebration that has its roots in  pre-Christian Germanic spirituality.

I have incredibly fond memories celebrating Sinterklaas as a kid like any other Dutch/Belgian person has, so this issue lies quite close to my heart. That is why I am writing this long post. I will explain in short what the celebration of Sinterklaas is in its modern form and on what ancient pagan belief it is based. My fellow Dutchies are of course aware what Sinterklaas is but maybe by explaining this to non-Dutch people, they will understand better why we love to celebrate Sinterklaas with people dressed up in blackface.

Each year around the middle of November, the saint Nicholas arrives in the Netherlands with his steamboat and a group of helpers called 'Zwarte Pieten'. Nicholas then usually makes a small tour through the city where he arrives and is then greeted by the mayor of that city. Usually everything goes wrong just before his arrival to make the kids fear for their presents. Everything turns out alright in the end and Sinterklaas moves into a castle until it is his birthday.

On his birthday, 5th december in the Netherlands and 6th december in Belgium, Sinterklaas visits every house in the country with his faithful helpers and leaves behind presents for the kids. Only children who behaved well during the year receives presents. After his birthday, Sinterklaas leaves again with his ship back to Spain, his supposed homeland, until he returns again the following year.

Now this celebration is very old and it has seen many changes in the way we celebrate it. These changes were inspired by military conflicts that occured in the low countries during the 16th century.

The celebration of Sinterklaas is based on the ancient belief of Wodan and his wild hunt. There are still a lot of similarities between Wodan and Sinterklaas. Both appear/arrive during November, which was seen as the start of winter. Both arrive with a small army, Wodan is accompanied with the spirits of the dead and Sinterklaas travels with his 'zwarte pieten'. Both ride on a white horse, both are carrying a staf, both are depicted as old men with long beards and both are wearing a long cloak.

Now according to old pagan beliefs, you should avoid Wodan and his wild hunt like the plague. If you were unfortunate enough to see Wodan in the skies, you would soon die and join him in his hunt. To prevent this from happening, people gave offerings to the hunt. The midwinterhorn was blown as well to greet the winter and the hunt, a practice that is still practiced in the Netherlands until this very day. You could per example offer a carrot to Wodan's horse Sleipnir. Dutch and Belgian children give carrots to Sinterklaas's horse Amerigo in present times.

With the arrival of Christianity in Germanic territories, the pagan practices started to slowly die out. The church desperately tried to demonize most of the Germanic pagan customs and sadly Wodan's wild hunt was also on the church's list. The belief in Wodan's hunt was very strong, too strong for the church to completely root out so the Church didn't ban it but simply made it Christian by removing Wodan and adding a real existing saint, Saint Nicholas of Myra.

Saint Nicholas/Sinterklaas was born on december 6th in 342AD in Myra, which lies in modern day Turkey. Nicholas was from a very wealthy family and managed to become a bisshop. According to the church, Nicholas was able to perform several miracles from the day he was born. He was supposedly able to stand up straight in his bath and praise God for the miracle of his birth directly after he was born. He was able to memorize all the names of the stars visible at night as a child and refused to drink his mother's milk on wednesday and friday.

As an adult he performed more 'miracles' which led to the church declaring him as a saint after his death. Nicholas supposedly saved three innocent people from being executed. Another legend tells how Nicholas saved a man from selling his daughters into slavery by giving the man pouches of gold. Yet another story tells how Nicholas brought three students back to life after they were murdered by an innkeeper. This is how Nicholas became the saint of children, the reason why the celebration of Sinterklaas is all about children. Nicholas also saved sailors from storms by calming the seas, is seen as the protector of whores and he freed slaves from a group of Arabic pirates.

Now this freeing of slaves becomes an important subject in the modern day celebration of Sinterklaas because of the 'zwarte pieten'. Who are these zwarte pieten exactly? Zwarte pieten are the Christian version of the dead who accompany Wodan. There are two possible theories on the origin of the 'zwarte piet'. In both theories they are the faithful servants of the saint Nicholas but one theory suggests that these faithful helpers are in fact slaves who had been freed by him. In return for their freedom, they help Nicholas in his quest to spread happiness amongst children. The other theory simply suggests that these helpers are black because they climb into chimneys and get soot on their faces.

Why if Nicholas is from Turkey, does he live in Spain? The answer lies behind a military conflict between the Byzantine empire and the Ottoman empire. The remains of Nicholas were moved to Bari, a city in southern Italy after the invasion of the Ottomans into the Byzantine empire. Bari was once part of the Sicilian kingdom where Charles V was crowned as the emperor of the Holy Roman empire. He was crowned emperor in 1519 and became the leader of a large empire which included the low countries.

Charles V's son would later become the infamous Filips II of Spain. Every Dutch person knows the name Filips II. Filips II ruled over spain and the Dutch territories, he was a loyal Catholic who wanted to root out Protestants. Unfortunately most of the Dutch territories were Protestant. This lead to incredibly high tensions between the Dutch and the Spanish. Add the unreasonable high taxes in the equation and you have a powder keg that is ready to explode.

All hell broke loose in the low countries during 1566AD. Protestants were fed up with the Catholics and the 'Beeldenstorm' started. A period during which Catholic churches were plundered and destroyed. Filips II sent duke Alva to the Netherlands in order to sort out this problem but this only led to a war that would last at least 80 years until the Netherlands became a completely independent country.

During this whole conflict, Sinterklaas was seen as an evil Catholic saint so the whole celebration changed in the North of the country where the Protestants were the strongest. No longer was Nicholas the kind and helpful saint but now he kidnaps children and takes them back to Spain. He beats up children with sticks and kidnaps them away from their families.

It took until the year 1850AD for another huge change to happen. The conflict between Spain and the Netherlands was a thing in the past by now and even if the Catholics and Protestants still hate each other, the persecutions and witch hunts stopped and the Spanish inquisition was abolished by Napoleon Bonaparte. No longer was Nicholas seen as a boogeyman. Jan Schenkman, a Dutch teacher from the 19th century, published several books which showed the first depictions of the modern day 'zwarte piet'.

In the third edition of Schenkman's works, 'zwarte piet' appears dressed in the costume that we recognize today. The clothing seems to have been inspired by both sailors clothing, Saracen clothing and the clothing of servants. The now black servant of Nicholas became incredibly popular and virtually unchanged since the 1850's until the year 2016.

In 2016, a very small group of black people suddenly decided to declare zwarte piet as racist. This is currently an incredibly huge debate which leads to riots and civil unrest. Most Dutch people do not view zwarte piet as racist. Zwarte piet is black because of the soot is an often made argument or zwarte piet is actually a positive symbol against slavery because he is a freed slave, Nicholas did free people from slavery.

I personally do not view 'zwarte piet'as racist. Zwarte piet is part of our Dutch/Belgian tradition and changing an old tradition because some people feel butthurt by black face is a big shame in my opinion. I hope I have been able to give you some more information about the very long history of Sinterklaas and his zwarte pieten and I apologize for this incredibly long post.

Here are photos of: Wodan and his wild hunt, Portrait of Nicholas of Myra made by Carlo Crivelli (1472), Nicholas bringing three children back to life (1500), Jan Schenkman's depiction of zwarte piet (1850), Arrival of Sinterklaas in Purmerend (1885), Schenkman's depiction of zwarte piet that became popular (1885), A comparison between Wodan and Sinterklaas,

[gone-series-orchid]

If there ever does happen to be a Gone TV shows, is there anything that you would want them to do/ change?? I've been thinking about it a lot recently and I think it has the potential to be good but at the same time I feel like (and this is such a rare line of thought from me) if they strictly stick to canon it could be...uncomfortable??

that’s an interesting thought! i think i get what you’re saying. there's a lot of distinctly uncomfortable moments in the series that i think mg didn’t really think through the implications of (like caine’s veiled rape threat to diana that i guess isn’t supposed to affect our feelings toward him to such a degree that we don’t want him to get redeemed, lots of caine being evil for the sake of it, sam being horrible to astrid because she wouldn’t have sex with him, everyone being racist to edilio in the first book and then it...never really comes up again except for the human crew’s cartoonishly evil bigotry which also doesn’t have lasting impact on the fayz after zil and lance die). oof, and that isn’t even touching all the ableism informing little pete and the misogyny you detailed in your post!

if there was anything i’d like the show to do, it’d probably be to streamline the plot a little. like, i love the series, but it gets super messy. the events that happen in individual books seem to rarely carry over aside from major character beats. i love the books’ individual contained subplots, like those that center the perspectives of duck zhang and hunter and zil, and i really hope the tv show maintains them without minimizing them. i think they do a lot to flesh out the fayz’s general population and the scale of morality mg is dealing with. and of course i really hope they adapt orc’s subplot, which is my favorite. but i think some other stuff could be minimized--i liked orsay, but what was the point of giving her a pov? she lessened in importance almost right off the bat once she entered the fayz; she was just a tool for nerezza. and nerezza herself seems like an odd character. i really enjoyed lies for astrid’s arc and the general focus on the fayz’s politics/morality, but honestly i think the tv show should cut back on nerezza and focus on the human villains, meaning zil and the human crew...honestly i think most of my suggestions would be on the structure of the show throughout its seasons (i’m thinking idealistically, of course), because tv shows are so different from books. i guess i worry about the focus being all over the place because there’s so many different povs throughout the books! speaking of...

this may completely contradict my prior point but i literally love the rotating povs of the books and i kind of wish that would be amped up a little in the show? like, instead of being mostly focused on sam with subplots focusing on other characters scattered throughout, i’d love if it was a little more of an ensemble show. in the first season (which i imagine would adapt the first book), i’d really love maybe a few scenes showing off howard and orc’s characters in more detail. we get that scene in gone where orc reveals his father’s abusive nature, and that’s definitely essential if they want to give him some pathos and set up his arc, but i’d love to have little moments where the audience just sees the kids of bully row just vandalizing stuff and messing around. like, establishing that as dumb and bullying as they are, they’re still just kids, and they’re nothing compared to the outright villainy of caine and drake. we get that vibe in the first book, definitely, but i think we’d need more scenes establishing that. i’d love it if we saw that there are certain lines that howard and orc as bullies wouldn’t cross. that would make us feel even more shocked when orc accidentally murders bette. also, i hope we’re shown that scene in the show instead of just being told about it like in the book.

i also hope that the first season gives astrid, like, an actual job/role to fill? there’s like a line in gone where sam calls her his assistant, but i kind of wish she’d be deemed the fayz’s resident researcher or something, preferably before she gets together with sam (which i’ll talk about later) so that the only job description the audience has of her isn’t “sam’s girlfriend.” i also really want the show to give us a couple scenes establishing astrid and edilio as potential leaders of the fayz as well, not just automatically discounting them because they’re not the protagonist. sam can still eventually come out on top, i guess, because it happens in canon, but at least let the characters discuss it in more detail.

also, i want little pete to have an actual relationship with astrid! show how much they care for each other in their own way. astrid can still have her negative feelings toward the responsibility she has in taking care of him, but alongside that should be love. astrid should also keep working with him on his therapy as a means of communicating with him more effectively, which is something i’m super frustrated no one thought to do in canon!

as for character relationships...i sort of wish astrid and sam don’t get together in the first season. focus on building up their friendship first. sam can still have his crush, but there should maybe be some tension whether astrid reciprocates or not. remember that weird plot point where it’s revealed in the later books that astrid was manipulating sam in order to get his protection? even though there’s like...no indication of that in the first book? bring that in from astrid’s pov, with her realizing how dangerous the fayz is (maybe after bette dies). make it ambiguous whether she’s really romantically interested in him. give her sympathy; show her fear for herself and her little brother’s safety. and show sam and her friendship! but also there’s ambiguity there. that maybe could be a cliffhanger for season 1--is astrid tricking sam, or does she really like him? bonus: it’s her that initiates their first kiss, preferably at the very end of the season instead of happening midway through, just before sam goes off to battle. though sam has a crush on astrid, she’s not his reason for not poofing; instead, he thinks of his friends and the innocent kids he’d be leaving behind to the mercy of caine and realizes that he has a responsibility he can’t shirk.

also...flashbacks!! i’d love it if we got flashbacks through each episode (with the focus being on one individual character per episode) of the characters’ family dynamics. would give the characters more depth and pathos right off the bat. maybe leave off on that for antagonists like drake and caine though. speaking of--show diana’s better qualities!!! show her fear of the rapidly escalating events happening at coates, show her tenuous grasp on caine, show the vulnerability behind the mask of glib snark. maybe she reveals this vulnerability when she’s alone. maybe show her trying to persuade caine not to string up andrew in order to observe the proof. show her looking on in horror at the kids’ cemented hands. little things like that can go a long way to humanize her. also, show the casual sexualization she’s subjected to by her peers at coates--maybe that could be part of the reason why she doesn’t leave immediately after caine does evil stuff. maybe she feels like she wants revenge for the things she suffered in the past from her classmates. it’s a misplaced sense for vengeance, but it’s still sympathetic. and diana can realize “oh, this was a huge mistake” the minute things get real. make her desire to be caine’s queen an extension of her trauma over her past powerlessness, subjected to the abuse of her mom’s boyfriends. don’t necessarily make her a wilting flower, keep her pettiness and meanness, but give her a little more humanity!

also--okay this is more of a self-indulgent thing but--i’d like more scenes between orc and astrid! just a few, just to flesh out their relationship a tiny bit in the first season so the coates scene* comes off as powerfully as possible. remember when orc was okay with drake potentially torturing astrid because he didn’t want to lose face in front of sam in the first book? because he was too prideful to admit he cared for her? show astrid reacting to that! show astrid using that to attempt to sway him to her and sam’s side! maybe there’s a moment where, in the scene where the kids see orc’s growing mutation, orc catches a glimpse of the bruise on astrid’s cheek from drake’s slap and feels visible regret. maybe astrid notices that and tries to subtly manipulate him over to the side of good, while still having genuine compassion for what’s happening to him mutation-wise. i just think their dynamic is so good and i’d love for astrid to utilize one of the few personal connections she had pre-fayz.

anyway, this is getting way too long, so i’ll cut it off here. sorry for the length! thank you very much for the ask! :)

*the coates scene in plague is one of those few scenes in the series that comes off as exactly as uncomfortable as mg intended, imo. like the implications probably should have carried over to orc’s arc a little more but still! i want it to be preserved in the tv show. it could be so good! the writers would have to tread lightly, but if they get it right, it could be phenomenal (in my obviously biased opinion lol).