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#yes i understand frederick not being here is a LITTLE weird but . shut up its my drawing
singscribbles · 2 years
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tactitician’s tent
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Hopelessness of Wanting [Part 2]
<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->
Frederick Chilton x Reader
Continuation of an angsty dark fic request. 
Warnings: suicidal thoughts/attempt (I made myself real sad with this one so be warned if you’re vulnerable to negative thinking), NSFW, smut (gender-neutral), unhealthy relationship, depression, neurodivergent reader. Melancholy rambling. 
3,200 words
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“Don’t worry about what Dr. Chilton thinks,” Nurse Clerval advised as soon as he was out of earshot. “He’s an asshole.”
“Yeah, but”—you tugged the hem of your scrubs—“He’s right. I keep messing up. I think he hates me.” You stopped there, too ashamed to admit you were the biggest fuck-up on the entire staff, new or not, or that you could tell Dr. Chilton regretted his decision to hire you.
“And the rest of us hate him. Just keep doing your job, learn the ropes—he’ll back off.”
You nodded silently and continued your rounds, delivering meds and checking in on patients. Amy had to be restrained again when she wouldn’t stop biting. Julianne seemed more confused lately, though you hadn’t known any of them long enough to tell what was normal.
Clerval’s words hung over you. It didn’t seem right that everyone hated Dr. Chilton. He was a little brusque, yes, but intelligent. Wickedly sarcastic. Posturing and puffing himself up whenever people he admired came to visit the hospital, and he wanted badly to impress them. Lonely.
Your cheeks heated at the thought of those intense bursts of green under his brow—the first thing you noticed when he conducted your interview. His eyes almost matched the light green scrubs you wore at the hospital you trained in, though the uniform here was white (as if leaning into the One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest vibe.)
But what drew you in wasn’t that his eyes were beautiful—though they were—it was the way they made contact with yours. Staring you down with fake confidence, as if he were forcing it. That stare must have been off-putting to most people, but it made your spirit leap with that particular spark of connection one only feels when finding a kindred spirit.
“Hey! Still sulking? Hurry it up,” Clerval called, jolting you to attention. You trotted after.
It was nice having a mentor on the staff, but at the same time, it just felt like having another person to eventually disappoint.
“Here! What’s next?” you beamed.
***
Dr. Chilton didn’t back off over the next few weeks as Nurse Clerval suggested. The more you thought you were getting the hang of routines at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, the more mistakes you seemed to make, and the harder its administrator came down on you. And the more the handsome, scarred Dr. Chilton hated you, the more nervous mistakes you made.
In nursing school, you aced everything technical. Every written test. Every memorized statistic, sterilization procedure, medication instruction, and anatomy diagram. But when it came to interacting with patients and families—being compassionate yet professional—nothing came naturally. As a child, you learned how to fake eye contact by staring at the bridge of someone’s nose. How to smile bright and encourage others so they don’t reject you. So they don’t see you as cold or weird. But sometimes, you felt like an alien just parroting human behavior.
The guy you had been dating when you started working at the BSHCI said something similar to you when he broke it off. That you were “unavailable” and never understood what he needed.
There was a reason your first choice job was at a hospital where the only patients were mentally ill murderers.
Dr. Frederick Chilton was the same way. Just better at hiding it, or braver about not caring when his mannerisms rubbed people the wrong way. He didn’t fall apart like you did. He was… incredible. As soon as you met him, you knew you wanted the job. His smile was forced but friendly that first day, and you went home dreaming about getting to know him better.
But as soon as you were hired, the friendliness went out of his eyes. On your very first day, you passed him in the hall and smiled. He frowned and informed you that you were five minutes late clocking in. Everything—every forgotten ID card and typo on a patient file—was proof to Dr. Chilton that you were incompetent.
Worthless.
He even pointed it out when you couldn’t stand up for yourself and let Nurse Clerval defend you.
Pathetic.
Why did you ever think someone like him might like you?
He wasn’t an asshole. The constant reprimanding and disciplinary write-ups were no more than you deserved. It just hurt coming from someone you admired and wished things could be different with.
God, you wished just once he would smile at you again. Tell you that you did a good job.
Your fist hovered over the dark mahogany of the carved doors to Dr. Chilton’s office, poised to knock. To tender your resignation. You hadn’t seen the extravagant interior of his office since your interview, but you could imagine him in there: laying back on the leather couch sipping a Scotch, surrounded by tall shelves of medical books and sculpted wall molding. The air filled with the library smell of old paper.
In your imagination, his cold green eyes would soften, and he would ask why you were leaving. Apologize for being so hard on you. The Chilton in your mind clasped your hand, and you both blushed, wondering if the gesture was merely a show of professional support, or if it held a deeper meaning. He clasped tighter instead of dropping your hand, knowing— understanding—the heat behind your gaze.
A dull thud came from inside the office, followed by footsteps and a muttering voice, muffled through the door. The footsteps started heading your way, and you walked briskly down the hall toward the exit, not looking back when a moment later, the mahogany doors creaked open.
Coward.
There was no point quitting, anyway. You would never find another hospital job as slow-paced, where you rarely had to speak with outsiders—only the regular long-term patient-inmates, and a small staff of orderlies, guards, nurses, and psychiatrists.
Sometimes you thought you should quit nursing altogether, but then what would you do? Flip burgers? You’d be bad at that, too. There was nothing you wouldn’t be a failure at.
A fog hovered over you, creeping its tendrils into every thought, turning every tiny setback into the end of the world, and making every success unimportant. Leaving BSHCI wouldn’t make it better. Nothing would make it better. You were the fuck-up. Anywhere you went, the problem would always be you.
Every smile you gave was forced, but you kept smiling as if everything was normal. So long as nobody could see you drowning, it wasn’t real. There was still hope that you could get your shit together, and no one would be the wiser that you were actually a disgusting piece of human trash. So long as you could smile like you were fine, you weren’t a complete failure.
But the more you pretended to be upbeat—pretended to be someone likable—the more you were certain your coworkers didn’t like you. They must have been sick of covering for you by now.
A week later, the nurse you were replacing grunted, “Finally,” as you sprinted through the door three minutes after your shift started. That one unremarkable interaction was the final proof of a theory you had been nursing for a long time:
Everyone’s lives would be easier without you.
That was the final conclusion, the final, creeping thought the suffocating fog wormed into your head. The crescendo of a distorted symphony that had been subtly building to this from the beginning.
You couldn’t force yourself to smile anymore.
***
You didn’t have authorized access to the medication supply room, but you swiped a key from Dr. Tenley’s office. For a secure facility, the doctors of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane were lax about locking their own offices. She would notice it was missing by Monday morning, and there would be serious repercussions for stealing it, but you weren’t concerned. You wouldn’t be around to face them.
With the high-potency drugs available in a hospital and a working knowledge of pharmacology, ending a life could be quick and relatively painless.
The key clicked in the door. You glanced up and down the hallway to make sure no one was coming. But the coast was clear.
A halfhearted breath puffed from your nose. Part of you wanted to find it funny how easy this was, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.
You stealthily opened the windowless metal door, stepped inside, and shut and locked it behind you without making a sound. Once inside the small room, you let out a silent sigh of relief (or despair). Only a handful of people had a key, so you were unlikely to be interrupted, especially at night with only a skeleton staff on duty.
There were three rows of tall storage shelves crammed into the walk-in closet with clean tile in the few places wall was exposed. The whir of a climate-control system drowned out the pulse in your ears as you scanned for the drugs you were looking for.
You found them faster than expected. They could have at least been hidden. The universe could have put a few more obstacles in your path, but instead, the universe was giving you a big fat sign it wanted you dead.
You picked up the packaging. Turned it over in your hand.
Just a handful of these, and all the problems you cause would be over. No more reprimands. No more disappointing everyone you meet. No more wrenching in your gut every time Dr. Chilton looks at you with contempt when you long to see a smile. No more trying so hard every minute of every day.
It wasn’t like too many people would be sad you were gone anyway. Most of them will be relieved.
Your eyes stung.
Wasn’t someone going to walk in and stop you?
Your lip trembled. Why would anyone want to stop you?
Tears rolled down your face as the reality of your plan set in. Survival instinct kicked and clawed at the cloying fog of twisted logic that promised you would be helping everyone if you stopped existing, but it was losing the battle.
And then you heard someone call your name.
You sniffed and looked up. No… not someone calling your name. Moaning it. You crept to the last row of shelves at the back and gasped—Dr. Chilton had his laptop tucked onto a shelf and was watching a clip of security feed on loop. His red, glistening erection thick in his hand as he masturbated, whimpering your name over and over.
You watched silently—he was so engrossed he didn’t notice your shadow falling over the aisle. It was only when the package of drugs slipped from your hand and clattered on the floor that he jumped with a shriek, covering himself, though his massive erection was still conspicuous in his pants. His eyes bugged out at you, face red with embarrassment—but then they quickly narrowed to anger.
“What are you doing in here? You are not authorized to be in this room,” he barked.
All you could think about was what you heard—the name gasping from his lips. It overpowered every other thought. “Were you… imagining me?”
His nostrils flared. He hastily shut the laptop which was looping security footage of you outside his office door.
Then he laughed—forced and cruel. “What I imagine is not your concern. Do not read into it. I have never shown you special treatment, have I? Do you think that I could have feelings for an incompetent nurse?”
“I know that!” Your lip trembled again now that the briefest spark of hope you had was shattered. Of course he didn’t like you. He was just a pervert who jacked off to all the nurses. “Don’t you think I know that I’m worthless? You’ve made it abundantly clear.”
Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks, and Chilton’s eyes softened, as if for the first time realizing that all his attempts to hurt you had succeeded. You were hurt. And he did not enjoy it as much as he thought.
“You are not worthless,” he said quietly. Then his eyes flicked down to the floor, at the medication you dropped. He picked it up, read what it was. His expression fell. “What were you doing in here, nurse?” he swallowed.
“Nothing. I just… needed something for a patient.”
“Lie,” he said.
You looked away. Everything was numb. It barely even occurred to you that someone stopped you after all. A handsome, awkward, cruel doctor you admired was in the same room with you and had said his first kind words since the day you met.
He took a slow step toward you. Then another. His hand—slender and surprisingly large—pressed your arm in an attempt at a comforting gesture. An alien parroting human behavior.
“You are not worthless. I assure you, none of your mistakes have been grievous. You are certainly not the least competent of my staff. Far from it. So don’t…” He swallowed. “…Do not do anything rash.”
“Sure,” you scoffed. “Then why am I the one you’re always reprimanding? The one always being called to your office?” You knew what he thought of you; he was just trying to talk you down.
“That…” he began in a broken voice, “That must be painfully obvious now.”
Your eyes peeled away from the floor and found his face, and the storm of emotions flashing over it. Shame. Trepidation. A faint light of hope.
“You like me?” Your voice sounded far away. The analytical part of your brain was whirring away above the swamp of depression bogging you down with lies that nobody could like you. But it made sense. As the words spilled from your mouth, it was like a veil lifted.
Pulling pigtails. He was pulling your pigtails because he liked you. A middle-aged psychiatrist ought to have more emotional maturity handling a crush than a third-grader, but there was a reason he worked at a hospital where the only patients were mentally ill murderers. There was a reason his staff hated him. Why he was lonely, and why you desperately wanted to be the one to fill the empty space by his side.
Frederick Chilton was a lot like you.
You could understand each other and be less alone in this world, together.
***
His eyes were closed and he was muttering something self-flagellating and vaguely apologetic when the kinetic sense of you moving closer caused Frederick Chilton to look up.
No longer out at arm’s distance, you were within each other’s breathing space. And now, he was genuinely terrified—terrified you were going to return his feelings. Of the joy it might bring crashing down on him like an airplane. He read something he never expected to see in your body language, and it shook him deeper than being walked in on with his cock in his hands.
You should have reported him for ethics violations.
If you made the case to the hospital board that he created a hostile work environment because he wanted you sexually, he would lose his job and do everybody a favor.
But this—the intention in your body—this was the farthest thing from what he deserved. You confirmed his fear when your soft, perfect lips melded against his. Yet, as always when he knew a thing was wrong, he did not push you away. Did nothing to stop you. He let you deepen the kiss slowly, and you were warm, the taste of you sweeter than he imagined in all his lonely nights of fantasizing.
His cock twitched, your closeness awakening his urges again. He moaned as your lips parted, his lips parting with them, and your tongue gently probed inside. You were tentative at first, investigating only the nearest reaches of his inner lips, and then his hand spasmed on your arm, and with a low growl, he pulled your closer—then you became ravenous. All the turbulent emotions churning within you broke free in that kiss. You sobbed into his mouth, your tongue, hot and fervent, explored and assaulted the depths of him, your hands weaving into the hair behind his neck, and he could taste your salt. It was all his tongue could do to keep up—to let himself be consumed.
Dear god, if only that passion would have ended him then and there. The moment your lips met his in an unexpected act of reciprocation was the fulfillment of every want, every tattered and twisted hope—the highest delight a man such as him could achieve. And he knew—rightly so—that all that could follow was suffering of his own design.
Dear god, let me die before I see this in ruins. Let me die with my happiness.
***
The sex wasn’t all that good. But then again, you had gone into that supply closet intending to never come out, so overall, being fucked by the man you had been pining for was a positive turn of events.
It wasn’t how you’d imagined your first time with Dr. Chilton, pressed against a cold tile wall. A hungry kiss led to his clothed erection pushing against your thigh, led to you unbuckling his belt.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he whispered hoarsely, nervous eyes darkened with lust—and you nodded, sliding down your scrub pants, which stuck on your sneakers, hobbling your ankles. He was in too much of a rush to let you take them off—he only opened up his slacks and pulled his cock out of the fly of his briefs. And then he was thrusting into you from behind—frantic, desperate. Your ankles being bound only added to the thrill of him being in control. Dr. Chilton wanted you after all—fantasized about you—and now he was taking you, and all you had to do was surrender to his desire.
His breathy moans rose with each snap of his hips, his hands traveling up your chest under your shirt, fingers curling around your neck, possessing you. Touching every inch of skin he could get his hands on. And that noise that saved your life, your name on his lips, he chanted in your ear.
He was fast—hips racing as if this were his only chance, and if he waited, you would disappear—and he finished fast. You didn’t spend long with your face pressed to the cold tile when his moans broke into a shattered scream, and his head slumped, sweaty, against your back.
Then he turned you around to face him and got on his knees. Heedless of his own mess that he’d left sticky and bitter inside you, he pumped his fingers into you and sucked like he was fulfilling a duty. Clinical about the task, and efficient. It didn’t take him long to bring your arousal to a climax in his mouth.
After, he was quiet. When you had cleaned up, he looked at you like you were a mistake… only you weren’t certain what kind of mistake. If you reached out to reassure him, would he jerk away and tell you to never speak of this again?
“Was it… all you expected?” you asked robotically. Your arm crossed your body, hugging yourself.
And then he kissed you again, softly. He ran his fingers over your hair and pulled back just far enough to study your face. His eyes were wet, clouded with a million thoughts and regrets you would only learn about later.
“You are perfect,” he whispered.
• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •
Since I went some places this chapter... Please don’t bottle up your feelings if they’re telling you horrible things about yourself. They aren’t true, I promise. You matter. ❤️
Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255
Online chat: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/chat/
Help via Text: https://www.crisistextline.org/ (Text HOME to 741741)
List of additional resources: https://www.healthline.com/health/mental-health/suicide-resource-guide 
Tags:
@beccabarba​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes / @barbasimp / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq 
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Rapunzel and the Lost Lagoon
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As soon as I heard about this book, I put it on my birthday wishlist. But alas, my birthday had come and gone. No Lost Lagoon. Apparently my mom didn’t see it on the wishlist, so that’s why. Flash forward to Christmas Day and I held the book in my hands, which were trembling with excitement. Not really, but you get the idea. I had been waiting to devour this book for months on end and I did. So without further ado, I will present to you this handy-dandy post that encapsulates my thoughts on Lost Lagoon before, during, and after reading. I thought it would be fun to record my expectations and compare them to what I discovered. If you’ve read Lost Lagoon, what did you think? I’d love to hear your thoughts! ❤️
Before Reading
honestly, I’m not quite sure what to expect. All I know is that there’s a lot of moments between Raps and Cass and I am ready for them!
maybe it explains how Cass came to be Raps’ lady-in-waiting? (I hope so because I’ve always wondered this...)
I think I’ll like the book as a whole (I’m hoping I’ll love it)
I’m guessing that it is cute, funny, serious, and adventurous all in one
maybe we’ll learn more about Cass?
will Raps tell Cass about her life in the tower?
what will be the ratio of lighthearted to serious moments? Am I more likely to laugh or cry? Probably both 😅😂😂
this book’s design is absolutely gorgeous! 😍😍😍 I literally just stared at it for a while beginning to read it
During Reading
Rapunzel’s hair hasn’t grown back yet? Oh, it’s her first week in Corona. Okay...
“Something was missing. I was hoping painting would help me find whatever that was, or at least help me end the afternoon on a happy note.” (is this relatable or what? I know not to chase after the elusive beast referred to as happiness, but I do often strive to end the day on a good note because I feel like Satan wins if I don’t)
Friedborg is Arianna’s lady-in-waiting? That makes more sense now. I always feel bad not knowing much about her or her background. I hope she makes some appearances in the book (no sooner did I type this than I look down and skim the scene where she teaches Raps how to sit. Crazy, right?)
Eugene referring to Rapunzel as “my girl” (so sweet 🥰)
“Eugene’s warm brown eyes and mischievous smile are irresistible from any angle” (she’s head over heels, ya’ll 😂💕😂)
first look at Cass 🥰 That’s my girl! Not only does she want to be part of the guard, but she wants to succeed her father as Captain! Go after your dreams, girl! I support you ❤️
“I’d rather shovel sheep dung than mend clothes and gossip.” Mood 😂😂
she recently discovered a hidden spot by using maps of an ancient underground tunnel system? How cool!
okay, but Cass’ animosity towards Raps is fair. And the fact that she refers to her as “that girl”? Priceless
names of nearby nations? Like, yes please!
the irony of Cass piquing Raps’ interest in her by leaving as soon as she can after throwing the shot put 😅😂😂
Cass worrying she got herself in trouble by practicing shot put. Poor thing!
the angst Cass feels towards her dad because he wants her to be a lady-in-waiting when she clearly doesn’t... so relatable (it’s tough when a parent’s expectations and our own dreams/desires don’t match)
I didn’t realize Cass created the maps herself! She’s so determined to prove herself to her dad, it hurts 😭😭
I wonder if the pools in Yultadore are what make up the lost lagoon...
“Her enthusiasm was so shiny and bright I had to squint” (I totally understand this)
pretty boy Eugene and his quips 😂😂
Cass trying to keep her distance from Raps by calling her “Princess” and firmly saying “Goodbye” before shutting and locking the door behind her
So that’s how Cass and Eugene met... okay, cool. Nothing too crazy or weird. I don’t know what I expected but it’s nice to know how their battle of wits began
I’m noticing a pattern in the words used to describe Cass: knowledgeable, brave, etc. I think that’s cool because I feel like her pessimism gets a lot more attention in the series. It’s nice to acknowledge her other qualities as well.
Arianna chose Cass to be Raps’ lady-in-waiting. I always wondered how she got the position. I’m loving how many little things this book is explaining 🥰
Also, just noticed the bird illustrations on the page of every new chapter. I wonder if there’s a pattern...
OWL!!! 😍😍 he literally “senses her distress”. I wish we got to hear about how they met
I wanted to cry for Cass. Poor thing just wants to follow her dreams. I like the way the finality of the decision was described. It’s so tragic 💔
“When Cassandra saw him [Eugene], her face clouded over like a stormy afternoon” 😂😂 I love how Cass doesn’t try to hide her feelings about people. It’s true that she keeps personal things close to her chest, but not when it comes to what she thinks of others. Honesty is the best policy, right?
I love how Cass continuously prompts Raps to keep reading the poem. She’s like, “Yeah, yeah, just get to the good stuff” 😂
about that poem... maybe it’s from Herz Der Sonne’s perspective. Could the “truth sealed in precious stones” be a reference to Zhan Tiri’s disciples and how they were trapped within stones? And what about the three gems? What’s the emerald tapestry supposed to be? Does it reference Saporia? I HAVE TOO MANY UNANSWERED QUESTIONS
“A few times I thought I heard some rustling behind me, but I kept going” (me: yeah, Raps is definitely following her) 😂
me when I realize the “emerald tapestry” is grass: 🙃
why is Cass so fearful around water? Did someone try to drown her? someone please tell me who is responsible so I can PUNCH THEM IN THE FACE 😅🤣
painfully ironic how Rapunzel can swim despite being locked in a tower all her life and Cass can’t
Raps nonchalantly offering to teach Cass how to swim just warms my heart 🥰❤️
okay, so Cass is responsible for her fear of water. That’s almost worse because it invites shame and self-hatred, which makes it more difficult to push against that fear or overcome it 😔
the importance of Raps agreeing to help Cass even after realizing she doesn’t want to be her lady-in-waiting is HUGE. This is something I feel like should have happened throughout Season 1 but never did (Raps supporting Cass and trusting that she has a good reason for things even if she doesn’t understand)
“But now I have to teach you which fork to eat your waffles with and stuff” 😂
the first time they call each other Cass and Raps 🥰😍🥰😍
woah, I didn’t expect there to be a time jump. I should have known because I kept wondering why they would depict Rapunzel with her blonde hair on the cover if this takes place before it comes back. Anyways...
I forgot to take notes as I read the majority of part 2. I’m currently a chapter or two away from part 3 and all I have to say is that something bad is about to happen. I can feel it. Dahlia’s definitely shady and so is Marco. I suspected Marie earlier but now I’m not sure. She wasn’t obvious until she was but now she’s not again so maybe she is guilty after all? Either way, Raps is making dumb decisions and I’m over here yelling at her to get her life together before she gets killed or kidnapped (whichever comes first, I guess) 😅🙃
Cass is absolutely roasting Rapunzel and I am here for it! Don’t mind me just munching away on my popcorn over here 🍿
Cass said she’s finally gonna leave Corona so I bet Raps will fess up and tell her that Dahlia’s been helping her with the painting for Cass so Cass will let her guard down and think Dahlia’s okay after all. But... she won’t be and they’re gonna realize she was the bad guy after all 😎
didn’t think Cass would get attacked 😅 also, the fact that she is highly skilled and powerful yet trips and twists her ankle is such a mood. Like, that’s literally me in a nutshell. She is beauty, she is grace, and she falls flat on her face 🤣🤣 while I’m here, I’m guessing Marco is her attacker because he probably has a rough voice
Okay, so I guess Dahlia really is innocent then... idk, I still think she could be up to something
I WAS RIGHT!
Marco’s the bad guy and things just escalated quickly cause now he’s got a knife against Cass’ throat 😳😬😵
so Dahlia’s innocent after all... I thought she or Marie might be working with Marco but I guess not (kinda disappointed to be honest)
okay so this Dahlia chick is exasperatingly hilarious 😂😂 she legit took part of Raps’ bookcase to use for an art piece. Like, who does that?
“Pascal shook his head, totally fed up” me too bud, me too 🤣
After Reading
so I did get to see how Cass and Raps first met (also how she first met Eugene as well)
I like how they combined their talents and passions at the end to create the map painting
There were a bunch of lines that made me laugh, although there were just as many that hit me like a knife to the chest (pretty much anything angsty from Cass’ POV) so I like how it made me feel all the feels (I felt like an investigator trying to figure out who the bad guy was and that was a blast 😆)
overall it was pretty good. I did feel like the characters were off (Arianna seemed like she swapped personalities with Frederick at times and Eugene apologized for joking Cass- as if!), but other than that I enjoyed it. There were a bunch of new characters being introduced so it was somewhat hard to tell who was bad and who wasn’t but I guessed correctly in the end. I was hoping there would be more than one bad guy but oh well.
I’m glad I read it because now I know a few extra things about Corona and its surrounding countries (plus I can finally read through all the Lost Lagoon related tumblr posts I saved for later... I was waiting until I read the book and here I am!)
If anyone needs me, I’ll be going through LL tumblr posts. I should definitely be sleeping but that’s not important 😅😂😂
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