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sage-green-matcha · 10 months

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SPILL YOUR GUTS OR FILL YOUR GUTS - JACK CHAMPION 🍽️

Singer/songwriter Y/n L/n and actor Jack Champion play “Spill your guts or fill your guts” on the Late Late Show!

Content includes: fluff! Some tension, eating gross foods, a live audience!

"Hi, I'm Y/n L/n!" "And I'm Jack Champion!"

“And we are playing a segment called spill your guts or fill your guts!" You smiled with nervousness, hands in your lap. "You ready?" Jack looked up at you with his classic smile, the smell of the food radiating into your nose. "No, not at all" you laughed, holding onto the sides of the table.

"Let's take a look at the food we have on the table!" You smiled, turning the table to show everything. "So first we have some delicious...bug trifle!" Jack exaggerated, a big smile on his face as he watched you cringe at the names. "Jellyfish! Not horrible I guess" The crowed let out a "ew" Jack agreeing. "Yea, ew"

"Giant water scorpion" you squirmed, holding back a gag. "This is horrible" You read out more of the foods, the questions officially starting. "Okay Jack, I'll ask the first question" You gave him a mischievous smile, holding back a laugh. "The producers have not shown us the questions! So it's all real" You made eye contact with him, giving him a reassuring smile. "It's all real!"

"Okay, so Jack...I think I'm gonna give you…" You looked at the array of food, deciding to not start so badly. "Jack, here is your thousand-year-old egg nog" he looked at you with annoyance, biting back his lip. "Give it a sniff" you giggled, his face dropping the smile. "That's fucking disgusting! Oh no, wait can I cuss?" "No!" you shook your head, his face stuck on the expression from when he smelled the drink.

"First question" you pulled from the deck of questions, reading it to yourself with a smile. "Jack…Who is your favorite to least favorite co-star on Scream VI?" You knew he would have to drink it, he was too sweet of a person to answer a question like that. "That's so mean, I can't answer that..." "Are you actually gonna drink that?" You teased, Jack shaking his head.

"So least favorite is probably Mason.." your mouth dropped open with a smile. "I'm kidding, no uh" he cringed before taking the cup to his lips, taking a sip. "Swallow it! Swallow it!" He held up the silver bucket to his mouth, shaking his head. You watched with disgust, laughing over at the audience.

“Good job!” You clapped, Jack’s face stuck on a sour expression. “This is my payback. You’re eating that meat cube thing” You shook your head, biting back your lip, your eyes basically pleading. “Ready?!” “Absolutely not” “Great!” He said with a laugh.

“Y/n, who is your hit song “Nonsense” really about?” You glared at him, the audience letting out a gasp. “Come on Y/n! Tell us! Or you could always just eat the tongue jello” If it were about any other person you probably would’ve told. But you knew it would be too embarrassing to tell Jack it was about him on live television.

Your lips bent into a frown, shaking your head as you took the spoon to the food in front of you. “That’s disgusting” “I know” you sighed, looking at the clear and pink jello in front of you. You held back your breath as you put it in your mouth. The taste and texture made you want to throw up, quickly spitting it into the bucket.

“You guys are horrible” you coughed, Jack just smiling at you. “You could’ve answered the question!” “That’s never happening”

“Okay! So Jack you’re gonna have the delicious cod sperm today!” His eyebrows furrowed, looking at the plate of bean shaped like sperm. “How…how do they get it out?” You chuckled, shrugging before reading out the question. “Jack, you have mentioned before that you’ve had a crush on one of your co-stars. Who is it?”

His heart pounded out of his chest, feeling his face get hot. He looked at you and then at the platter in front of him, letting out a sigh. “I really don’t wanna eat this” you smirked, watching him as he rubbed his forehead. “It was only for a bit!” You looked at him confused. “Just say who it is” he bit back his lip. “Y/n” the crowd yelled in awe, making you shake your head. He quickly noticed how your face held back a smile, his heart bouncing around in his chest.

“Okay, Y/n! Now it’s your turn!” “Hey! You can’t just say that and move on. For how long..?” You teased him, his eyes rolling. “Like a week, get over yourself” You pouted your lips jokingly, but on the inside, you were going crazy. He really liked you? Even if it was only for a week it meant he saw something about you. Maybe the stares he gave you weren’t just a figment of your imagination. Maybe you weren’t delusional…

“Y/n…I’m gonna have you eat the water scorpion!” You just sighed, hoping that the question wasn’t too personal. “Can you give us a sneak peek at one of your tracks?” You shot a glance at your manager, her smile telling you it was fine. “Yea! Okay!” You pulled out your phone. “Seriously?” “Mhm”

You scrolled through some of your voice memos, finding one of your upcoming singles. “Ready?” You held your phone to the mic on your dress, watching as everyone listened in awe. “Okay! That’s all!” You played about 5 seconds of it, everyone left wanting more. Jack didn’t say anything, instead, he clapped along with the audience. “Thank you guys…more coming soon? Maybe?” You smiled, Jack giving you a high five.

“For our last round…Jack I’m gonna give you the Salmon smoothie!” You picked up a card, reading the last question. “Jack! You’ve become a staple celebrity crush. Do you secretly watch fan edits of yourself?” You smirked, knowing the answer. “You already know!” He pointed, shaking his head. “Yes, I do” he sighed, the audience laughing. “I was literally backstage at some event and he was watching edits of himself” You shook your head. “Hey! Hey now, don’t expose me”

“Alright! Y/n, the bull penis is all yours” You shook your head, the crowd excited with laughs. “For your last question! Out of all your best friends…Who is your favorite?” The question wasn’t that bad, nodding as you pushed the plate away from you. “My favorite friend is you, Jack” “Yes!” He brought down his fist, your face with a big smile. The crowd cheered, your voice being drowned out. “That was spill your guts or fill your guts! We’ll be right back with more Late Late Show!!

You bumped Jack’s shoulder as you walked out, waving to the crowd. “You had a crush on me?” You couldn’t help but ask, your face filling with heat. “Yea, is it really that hard to believe?” You shrugged, walking into the green room behind him. “I am honored to be your favorite best friend!” He lied, he wanted you to see him as more than that. Sure, he was happy that you loved to spend time with him. But he wished it would go to the next level.

You plopped down on the couch, chugging down a water bottle to get the taste of raw meat out of your mouth. “I can’t believe you made me eat that” you made a face, shaking your head. “You could’ve just answered the question!” He was kinda glad you didn’t, it probably would’ve hurt when you said a name that wasn’t his.

“Why do you wanna know so bad?” You smiled, your heart beating a bit faster than usual. “I’m just curious” he sat next to you, faces dangerously close to one another. “Okay, I’ll tell you” “yea?” “Mhm” you shook your head, Jack staring at you with admiration. His eyes were big and doughy, making you choke on your words. “Well, I…uhm” he watched as your confidence drained, now filled with anxiety.

“You don’t have to tell-“ “It’s about you! I’m sorry, oh my god” you squirmed, Jack's eyes widening. You paused as you realized what you had just admitted. Before he could say anything you got up to leave, Jack taking you by your wrist. “Seriously?” You nodded with a gulp. “Why were you scared to tell me?” You scratched the back of your neck, feeling more than uncomfortable in the situation you had dragged yourself into. “I guess I was just scared you didn’t feel the same way…” his smile was comforting, pulling you closer to sit back down.

“I do” “You do?” He nodded, taking your face into his hands. He noticed as you panicked, your eyes tracing his expression. You couldn’t tell if he was serious. Before you could process anything you felt his lips fall onto yours, eyes widening before you relaxed into him.

Your heart was all giddy inside of you, your hand on his chest as he pulled you closer. It felt like pure euphoria when he kissed you. You didn’t know how to describe it, but it was addictive. You felt like you could truly never get enough of him, pulling him closer with a hungrier and deeper kiss. “Hey! You guys are on in-“ You pulled alway quickly, a producer with an awkward smile on his face. “Y’all are on in 20” you thanked him, looking back at Jack. His face was flushed, your lipstick messy on his face. You tried to rub it off, giggles filling the room.

“Also, I didn’t mean to friend zone you, I’m sorry” You moved the hair out of his face, rubbing his lip as he watched you in awe. “Well, I know that now” he smiled, pulling you in for another messy kiss.

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chez-cinnamon · 10 months

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If it was homes doing, what did it do to make them end up in the real world ? (Im definitely not knees deep into your blog because I love this entire idea, totally not)

I was waiting to get round to making a master post/get round to writing the fic but it’s taking a while so I’m gonna spill some beans here, with some doodles too-

- It’s unclear (atm in universe) what caused Home to be the way it is, or to explain exactly what it is, but Home serves as a force to keep the puppets on script at all times, and if they deviate from it, punishments ensue

- The puppets in this AU are from a VHS tape containing a special animated episode to celebrate the company’s success; the episode involves the puppets preparing for a special market day (loosely based on May Day) called Spring Market Day, but a cheeky magpie is causing ruckus. However, they’ve been unknowingly trapped in this tape, being forced to repeat the same day every day and having their memories erased to repeat it without fuss.

- Wally was the first to become aware that they were stuck in a loop and after noticing Home’s suspicious staring at each neighbour, a big black rectangle following him and his friends as they talk to it, and the fact that his friends are oblivious to what’s happening, he finds a way to prevent their memories being erased and thus begins Home’s punishments…

- To punish the puppets for going off script, it will subject them to their greatest fears/anything scary, and will find ways to either get them to sleep or keep them awake enough to drive them insane.

- For example, Sally’s segment in the episode involves her telling the history of Spring Market Day/May Day, but if she gets a detail wrong, Home will subject her to her biggest fear: humiliation on stage, with all spotlights on her, shining brighter and brighter until she cries.. Another example is Howdy, who if getting his stock wrong, Home will have the stock in his shop multiply over and over again, until it almost drowns him in it before having it magically disappear..

- As a consequence of this, it really deprives all the neighbours of sleep, making them mindless and paranoid as the days go on

- It also prevents them from telling each other what’s going on, by forcing their mouths shut

- The only way to stop this is to leave the neighbourhood, but once they do, Home isn’t happy…

#welcome home #welcome home au #real world au #barnaby b beagle #julie joyful #frank frankly #eddie dear #howdy pillar #sally starlet #more lore more lore!!!

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 5 months

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Do we know exactly why yuu is called 'trickster'? Pretty dumb question ik I actually don't know if this has been answered alread

The nicknames in TWST are not usually explained. The main exceptions I can think of are “Monsieur Dent-de-Lion” for Ruggie in book 5, “Baby Seal” for Grim in book 4, “Goldfish” for Riddle in Floyd’s School Uniform vignette, and “Crabby” for Ace in the second volume of the light novel. We have to draw on assumptions for basically the rest of them. I’m guessing that “Trickster” is meant to allude to Yuu’s implied strategic nature despite passing off as plain and unassuming by appearance alone.

I believe the closest we get to learning the origins of Yuu’s nickname is in the first Happy Beans Day event; in it, Yuu is part of a ploy to trick the Monster/Beast team in order to seize the golden harp the other team is protecting. However, Rook is calling them Trickster long before the final deception is revealed in chapter 13, in which he remarks that Yuu is truly deserving of the nickname.

The issue I have with it is that I think Yuu has done very little to maintain it 💦 Sometimes Yuu has flashes of intelligence (like realizing that the contracts aren’t invincible). However, outside of the prologue (guiding Grim on where to shoot fire and formulating a plan to take out the OB In the mines) and maybe that small segment in Happy Beans Day (though most of the plan was Jade’s), we rarely ever see Yuu being that much of a tactician or trickster. Rather, they are often strung along on other people’s plans or doing minor or coincidental things (like making noise to prevent Leona from sleeping/stealing the magic carpet and crashing into Octavinelle) to push the narrative along while letting other characters do the Big Brain work for them (it was Leona and/or Azul who actively orchestrated the plots). I guess the argument could be made that maybe Yuu helps in tricking others (Endless Halloween Night, distracting Jamil with board games while Kalim is interrogated in book 4), but it doesn’t come off as a particularly strong or defining trait of theirs if several other characters also engage in the same acts (Floyd, Azul, Malleus, Lilia, etc.) or Yuu had little involvement in planning the deception.

I just think it’s a wasted opportunity to give Yuu such a cool nickname but then never fully commit to showing us why Yuu has “earned” that title. I guess it implies that Rook, who is an observant character, sees more in Yuu than being generically nice or cheering about friendship. However, it rings… somewhat hollow if characters are just saying Yuu is smart (Leona + a few others also have lines that express similar sentiments) or telling Yuu what to do without Yuu actually doing anything smart or actually planning a ploy themselves 😭 It’s “telling” us what Yuu is rather than “showing” us. This is likely done for the self-insert aspect of TWST/to make players feel important, but I don’t think it’s good from an actual writing standpoint.

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tokidokitokyo · 19 days

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My Favourite Japanese Children's Shows

My son is 3 and I have watched a lot of Japanese children's shows with him (screen time is family time!). Here are some of my faves and why. These shows are all from NHK E-TV. Would I recommend to use these for personal study? I am using them to help teach my son Japanese, and for this it works doubly well as I learn how children's society operates in Japan and how Japanese people learn Japanese as well as social etiquette. If you don't have a child, you might get bored easily from these as they are not designed with an adult audience in mind, and you can find much better resources online. You also need a subscription to NHK somehow to watch them, which could be difficult or costly to obtain overseas. However, I like the stories and the characters, as well as the little things I learn from watching them. If you are thinking of teaching your child Japanese this might be a useful resource.

いないいないばあっ！ Inai inai baa! (Peek-a-boo!) This show is designed for very young children and features the beloved dog Wan Wan, played by the same actor since it first started airing in 1996. Wan Wan is accompanied by a young girl, played by various actresses in a succession over the year, and other fun characters. There is singing and make-believe and crafts, as well as short segments featuring nature (animals, plants) or short animations. It's very slow as it is made for infants and toddlers, but that makes it very cute. A group of specially selected young toddlers appears for the dances and songs. Why I Like It: The animation is fun and visually appealing, the activities are play based and you can do them at home, and you learn some new vocabulary. Age: Infants to young Toddlers Clip: DVD Advertisement

おかあさんといっしょ Okaasan to issho (With Mother) This show is designed to be watched with mom (it comes on in the mornings and evenings on NHK E-TV). There are a male and female singing talent, and a male and female athletic talent, who participate in singing and acting clips. There are also a group of costumed characters that have a short story that is continued each week. It has a variety of songs, short skits, a collection of human and costumed actors, and a predictable flow that changes slightly based on the day of the week (e.g. teeth brushing days, story days, etc.). It also shows real kids doing real activities, which kids like to watch. Why I Like It: The songs are easy and catchy, the stories are easy to follow and the words are spoken clearly and precisely. Age: Infants to Toddlers/Preschoolers Clip: DVD Advertisement

アンパンマン Anpanman (Anpanman) This cartoon is a long running cartoon for children (since 1988!) with an incredible line of every toy imaginable to supplement your love for the red-bean bun man (anpan = red bean bun pastry). The story lines are simple and predictable, there are a variety of "fairy" characters that are composed of different Japanese food items, plants, utensils, and animals; and in the end the villains are just really hungry. Anpanman works to help people who are in trouble or hungry (sometimes even the villains), or being bullied by the hungry villains and the story always ends well. Why I Like It: The plot is easy to follow and you can learn about Japanese food and drink specialties via the endless supply of characters, and the songs are catchy. Age: Infants to Toddlers/Preschoolers Clip: Ending TV Theme Song

ピタゴラスイッチ Pitagora Suicchi (Pythagora Switch) Pythagora Switch is a 15-minute long show involving devices (Pythagora Switch) that are equivalent to the American Rube Goldberg machine and the British Heath Robinson contraption - basically, a sequence of events made from household objects that end with (usually) the words ピタゴラスイッチ being revealed. The idea is to encourage children to augment their way of thinking and to solve or understand what the machine will do before they see the movements happen. There are also other segments in which mechanisms are explained and shown visually. And usually there is rock-paper-scissors via a Pythagora Switch where you work out what the device will throw and try to beat it! The language in this show is more complicated because it is geared to a wider, older audience. Why I Like It: It helps me to think and enthralls my son with the moving parts. It's puzzle solving and sparks interest in the way the world works. Age: Toddlers to Elementary School Students Clip: 4 3 2 1 2 1 そうち

#japanese children's shows #いないいないばあっ！#おかあさんといっしょ #アンパンマン #tokidokitokyo

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cherrycherryking · 1 year

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Wally x gardener puppet? Idk the concept to me seems cute,,,,

the concept is SO cute!! I know it was just supossed to be wally x reader but i looove concepts for welcom home characters!! like, how would you interact with the neighboorhood? what stuff would you teach?

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wally darling x gen!reader (platonic or romantic!) + drawings

Gardener Puppet Reader

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✧You're a puppet like Wally or Julie! Your little house is mostly took over by the garden behind it, and most of your segments take place in your work table.

✧You talk about...well, plants! Easy ways to start kids on gardening with plants like beans or herbs. Your segments crossover to recycling and all things around taking care of the planet.

✧For this reasons you would often appear with Frank when it got to talking about insects or more technicalities about plants like bees or their life cycle! With arts and crafts to reuse trash Julie and Wally would accompany you :)

✧When not in your house you could be seen taking care of the flowers around the neighborhood, stocking food on Howdy's store or bringing fresh produce for Poppy's baking segments!

✧Look!! Its You!!! (or just an outfit idea)

✧Only gray so you can decide the color palette. I also thought it would be funny for you to be a scarecrow but that i leave up to you.

───────────.★..─╮ Wally x Reader part!! ─..★.───────────╯

��As said before, Wally would appear in your segments about recycled projects

✧I like to think that Wally is really good at all types of paintings but not so much with arts and crafts.

✧Everytime hes your co-host the camera will be looking at you doing an explanation of the steps, cut to wally and:

✧Home has pretty white flowers outside, so you take care of them :) A good couple of episodes start with Wally looking out the windows or getting out of Home and saying finding you there!!

✧One day you decided to gift your friends some pretty plants, and for Wally you decided on an Aloe.

✧He's so so happy with the gift!! He promises to take good care of it.

✧It was nothing really, Wally has always been a dear person to you. He was so calm and smooth and charming that you couldn't help but want to hang around him all of the time.

✧And it seemed he thought the same about you,

✧Your patience with his mess ups, your sweet words of encouragement, the care you took of Home so its flowers and bushes were always healthy made his heart melt!

✧That's why he looked so sad when you opened the door after you heard his knocking.

✧"I am so sorry y/n, the plant you gifted me died :("

✧He kept apologizing but you stopped him, telling Wally it was okay! It wasn't yours but his, and you didnt felt angry or anything.

✧"Aren't you mad at me?" "No, of course not! If anything, i'm more curious about how it got like that..."

✧You gave Wally an Aloe plant on purpose. He was a little uhhhh lost some times! head empty, so you choose a plant that would do just fine with little care.

✧But it seem he took too much care of the Aloe. It got like this thanks to overwatering.

"Its okay" you told him, holding his face on your hands. "You just worried too much for the little guy."

"Oh- haha, I ruined because I overdid it?"

"C'mon! You didn't ruined it. Lets go to the back, i'm pretty sure we can still save the aloe. This time i'm going to give you a better guide to take care of it."

His gaze softened, leaning his head to one of your hands. "That sounds nice..."

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can you tell how excited i got with this? can you tell?!?!?! it was so fun omg

PLEASE!! pleasepleaseplease send me more asks about ideas for you all self insert! tell me if you want a puppet or like a human costar like sesame street.

#if...if any of you draw your s/i with that outfit #i will be legally obligated to kiss you all over the face #ALSO!! +10 points to you if you identify the csm reference!!!#silly guy that gets so obsessed w something he overdoes it #wally wally blood and dolly <3 #welcome home #welcome home arg #welcome home puppet show #welcome home wally #wally darling #wally darling x reader #request #my art

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unicyclehippo · 9 months

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15. kiss on the back for the prompt thing!

Imogen has spent years submerged in the sweet, babbling waters of Laudna’s mind so, while she may not be able to hear her thoughts now, she still remembers their current. And besides, some things don’t need to be said. It’s an unspoken agreement between them—a quirked brow, the tilt of an answering smile—to return Zhudanna’s coin.

Laudna distracts their elderly friend with an enthusiastic—and slightly gooey—recreation of recent journeys while Imogen carries the groceries to the kitchen. She unpacks jars of olives and honey and jam, every pickled thing they encountered, wax-wrapped cheeses, smoked and salted meats, dried fruits and beans, bags of fine-ground flour and spices. She leaves the fresh fruit and vegetables on the countertop with the pumpernickel loaves and, as she does, pulls Zhudanna’s lockbox from its hiding place beneath the beans with a subtle bit of magic.

It’s easy to use her powers now. She knew she was getting stronger but something about being here—where she spent much of her time in degrees of agony with no way to control it or stop it, her powers flaring whenever they wanted to—the difference is stark. How reactive her magic is now, how finely-tuned to her will. A thought, and the lockbox opens. Imogen busies herself selecting and slicing an orange. Another thought, and the coins lift out of the shopping basket and zip over to the box. She arranges the orange segments on a colourful plate. The box clicks closed and slides back into place beneath the beans. It’s all done in a matter of seconds with Zhudanna none the wiser, even if she had peeked over to check on Imogen despite Laudna’s distraction—though how anyone could look away from Laudna for so much as a second during one of her stories - vibrant, enthralling as she is - Imogen doesn’t know.

She lingers a while, helps herself to a slice of orange. It’s tart, almost sour, the way she likes them. The sun blankets half the kitchen in a square of light. Standing in that warmth recalls fragments of an old dream—baking, home, Laudna. The details are too faded and vanish when she reaches for them; in the space where they had been, her memory provides instead the aroma of baked bread and the cool press of Laudna’s lips against her own. Fingers sticky with orange, Imogen twists her wrist and presses her smile to the back of her hand. We kissed, she thinks, giddy, and suddenly the handful of steps separating her from the sitting room and Laudna is too far.

‘—a shape like dripping tar, a great blob of malice, hovering in the air. It struck Orym with a spiralling bolt of shadow, pinning him against the rock!’ Imogen hears as she rejoins the story.

‘Oh!’ Zhudanna squeaks. Her eyes are wide, both wrinkled hands covering her mouth in horror. When she speaks, she sounds so old—had she always, Imogen tries to recall, or is it all of this…this fucking mess around them? The solstice, the god-damning speeches, the fear suffusing the streets like thick jungle mist, the moon, the way oncoming way tilts the axis of every heart. ‘Oh,’ she says in a small, quavering voice, ‘oh dear, oh no, is he alright?’

‘Who?’

‘Your friend. Orym.’

The question makes Laudna’s smile falter. Zhudanna, half-blind, probably doesn’t notice. Imogen does. She fills the agonising pause, steps between them to put the plate down next to Zhudanna. By the time she plants herself on the footstool, twin to the armchair Laudna has claimed, Laudna has recovered.

‘Yes. Yes, of course! He’s a warrior—a hero!’ Zhudanna heaves a sigh of relief at that, claps her hands. Laudna continues. ‘He pulled free of the shadow spear with a horrid yell and spray of blood—’

Geez, Laud, don’t forget she’s old as shit.

And? She has such a creative soul, she’s enjoying—ah. I suppose…heart attacks…hmm. Should I…tone it down?

Imogen rests her chin on her hand as she settles in to listen to the rest of the story and, catching Laudna’s eyes, offers a small smile. Just for her, darlin’.

With a wobbly nod—one that makes Imogen want to yank off the circlet and dive deep into Laudna’s thoughts, wade through them muck and all, hear for herself the knotted tangle of fear and nervy tension and trust she knows is causing havoc in there—Laudna launches back into her tale.

‘Together with our dear new friend Prism–’

‘I like her,’ Zhudanna says. ‘Sensible, for one of those wizard types. Getting out there and having a go of it. Good for her.’

‘Indeed. Very sensibly, she and I harried the foul spirit with our joined magic, giving our companions time to protect the Heirophant and dragging them clear of the danger of this hungry shadow. We threw everything we had at it—flaying it of its shadow piece by piece, cracking its sallow face, until there was nothing left of it but a slug of tarred shadow that I crushed, sending it back to whence it came, into the merciless dark,’ she hisses, hand closing in a tight fist, eyes a brittle, glossy obsidian. After a moment, her intensity relents; the faint gloom in the corners of the room disperses like an audience post performance, and as it leaves, air rushes in to fill the empty space. ‘Anyway,’ she trills, ‘apparently that wasn’t the first time it had appeared there, can you believe that? The Heirophant—the elf Orym and Ashton saved—told us that they had fought it before—or was it their order that had? Hm. Don’t recall. But yes - it’s like a recurring thing. Like a bad ex turning up on their doorstep. But not a bad ex because Evithorir—’

‘Evi- Evirerth-’

‘Evithorir. I think. It was so hard to tell, it hissed a lot. Regardless, the shadow spirit, it turns out it was some, like, ancient terrible hungry fey spirit that sought to devour everything in the world, blah blah, the usual. Starting with Oma-Dua who is this - get this - equally ancient druid who buried herself in the last moments of her life in the depths of this cavern centuries ago to sustain the land around this mountain for the rest of time and took on the form of an enormous glowing green crystal…’

Laudna drifts into an odd silence and sinks back into the plush armchair, into herself, looking small and troubled. Her teeth dig well-worn trenches into her bottom lip as she loses herself in thought.

Imogen clears her throat. ‘It’s been an awful long time since we got a proper rest, Zhudanna—d’you mind if we rest a while?’

‘Not at all, not at all. Let me move my easel, dear, and - ‘

‘No, please, don’t go to any trouble. I’ll set it aside, if that’s alright?’

‘Certainly, certainly.’

Zhudanna lets herself be distracted gracefully, pulling an old knitting project from the box by her chair. Her eyes—wrinkled, worried—linger on Laudna as Imogen helps her up from the chair, curling a gentle hand beneath each elbow.

She looks so exhausted and Imogen is certain she’s bearing most of Laudna’s weight for her when she pulls her to her feet but she’s so fucking light it nearly has Imogen stumbling, off-balance. A dozen questions cluster behind Imogen’s teeth, on the threshold of her mind. Did you eat at all? Did you rest? Who took care of you? The thought might’ve made her jealous a month ago but now it just hurts. Laudna is too light, bordering on frail. Her hair is stringy—dirty, greasy, like its been a week since she washed it, brushed it, cared for it (for herself)—and Imogen knows the answer. Knows Laudna. She cares like caring is what keeps her alive, will drag the energy out of her own fucking marrow for everyone else and when it comes to her, she shows them something dead and dying, shows them a grinning skull. Something beyond repair, beyond need of care.

Red flickers behind her eyes, smoulders in the cracks that split the tips of her fingers. But her hands stay gentle as Imogen helps Laudna to their old room.

The door shuts behind them, shuts out the world. Blissful. There’s no window in here to show them the ruddy moon. There’s no crowds, no intrusive minds. No guards, no traitors, no one but the two of them.

Laudna’s slow walk turns to a hobble. She sits at the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched.

Giving her a little space, Imogen puts their bags at the footboard of the bed and Pate’s birdhouse on the bedside. He’s sleeping in there or pretending to be. Creepy, beloved spy. She moves the easel like she said she would, tucking it into an out of the way corner.

‘She’s really very good, don’t you think?’

Laudna stirs. Glances over, dark eyes flicking between the easel and Imogen, and the smile she manages is a wavering thing but it holds steady at the corners.

She’ll be alright, Imogen decides. Promises.

‘Yes. Very talented, our Zhudanna.’

Her words trail off again and Imogen watches as Laudna begins to fidget, fingers twisting, tugging, pull and plucking in her lap. Was the closed room not blissful for her? Was it too crowded, with Imogen and her and all her thoughts and Delilah and now Bor’dor haunting her? Or was it as simple as the strain of her journey taking its toll? Or was it…

‘Do you regret it?’ Imogen blurts. Laudna stills. ‘The kiss, I mean. Me, kissin’ you. Because I know I asked and I know you kissed me back but if - if you got caught up in the moment or thought it’s what I want - Laud, you gotta know, it doesn’t matter to me how you care for me, I’m so - I’m so happy. So lucky. Just to have you near me. Truly.’

It takes a hell of an effort to shut up then—to bite her lip and give Laudna the room to speak.

Her stomach flips from nerves and her traitor heart follows suit; it flips, flutters in her chest, so gentle and so warmed by the memory of getting to take Laudna’s face between her hands, getting to touch her after so long of only being able to dream about it, getting to lean in and—that kiss! The memory of it fizzles through her, sweet lightning, and it’s ridiculous, actually, because her hands start sweating and her lips tingle and her skin goes hot all over, sensitive. It’s such a silly feeling; she feels like a stumbling foal - clumsy and awkward, unsure, but so fucking eager to get up, go, explore. It’s silly - she feels silly with it, giggly and warm - and then, of course, sense reasserts itself firmly because Laudna hasn’t said anything yet—is staring over Imogen’s shoulder with a tiny, worried frown—and Imogen’s stomach sinks, veins flooding with ice. If she could just take off the circlet, but…

‘Laud?’

‘Imogen.’

‘Do you?’ It’s harder to ask the second time. ‘Do you…regret it?’

‘No,’ Laudna says in that barely-there way. Imogen wants the shadows back. Wants the intensity. Wants Laudna cackling over one of Pate’s horrendous comments, or chiding her for mussing the bedsheets. Anything but this ghost. ‘No, darling. I was - I was only thinking,’ she sighs, ‘how silly it is, how hard it is to talk about…well. About what we want.’ She blinks, dim and distant. ‘I often think that if only everyone were honest, there would be less space for misunderstanding and heartbreak –’ The words send Imogen’s heart sinking ever lower, but Laudna doesn’t seem to notice and continues, ‘– and cruelty and war and, oh, I don’t know. People wouldn’t get away with murder or inheritance trickery and such. I think about all the people who lie whenever they speak and how foolish it is and then it is my turn to speak and I…I’m terribly afraid.’

At that, Imogen crosses to sit beside Laudna on the bed. She takes one of her delicate hands in both of her own. It’s so light; bird-boned, Imogen thinks distractedly, mind cluttered with midnight-plumed ravens and the Duskmaven, of scavenging vultures and red seeping into cracked desert soil, of a canary in the dark. She hopes—as it gets harder to breathe, lungs struggling to contend with the weight of hope and panic—that Laudna won’t warn her away.

‘You can tell me,’ Imogen says, and her words stay blessedly steady. ‘Even if you think I don’t want to hear it. I do. I do.’

For a long moment, Laudna examines their hands. Intertwined. Her own—delicate, long-fingered, pale. The dark web of stagnant veins. Imogen’s—broader, tanned, calloused. The cracked skin, red seeping out. Squeezing Imogen’s hand, Laudna says,

‘I won’t lie, darling. I won’t tell you I wasn’t surprised. I was. I am. You are—’ Dark eyes lift to meet Imogen’s; without thoughts to skim, all Imogen can see in the depths is warmth, a glittering fondness. Sorrow lurks there too, somewhere, even if she can’t see it. ‘You are extraordinary. Young and beautiful and so very alive. I - you wishing to kiss me - you understand why I might be startled. I don’t know what I can offer you, darling. I will always be at your side, of course—to protect you, to wake you from your nightmares, to support you, to - to tether you against the storm, as you said, but - ‘

‘But what?’ Imogen shakes her head with a gentle laugh. ‘Who could ask for more than that?’

‘And the kissing?’

‘We don’t have to do it again. If you don’t like it.’

Laudna tilts her head; it’s not a no, but neither is it a yes. ‘You could choose anyone—’

‘I want only you.’

‘Even though I am—’ Laudna cuts off the words with a snap of her teeth. Turns away, sending a gloomy look to the dim corners of their room.

Imogen’s heart thuds, hard, against her ribs. She rubs at at it, sympathetic. Her bruised heart. She wants what it wants—to be close, ever closer. To hug her, hold her tight. To love her. To rip Delilah out of her—fry the bitch, burn her to ashes, and the ashes to smoke, and the smoke to nothing at all in white lightning—and then offer up her own heart to fill the lack. To welcome Laudna into the red hollow of her ribs, already wondering what kind of home she could make out of them. To take back the ruby ring and present it again, with all the ceremony Laudna deserves. To kiss her. Again and again.

But right now, Laudna doesn’t need a storm, even one of love. She only needs Imogen to listen to her. So she asks,

‘Even though you’re what?’

Laudna’s hands curl into talons and a snarl erupts from her throat. Earlier, Imogen hadn’t known what to make of the idea that Laudna could summon a wolf but she gets it now. Hears it in that mournful, ragged sound.

‘Dead. Broken.’ She claws at her heart. ‘Weak.’

‘No. You’re not, sweetheart, no.’

Imogen cannot resist reaching forward. She keeps her touch feather-light. Skims a high cheekbone before sliding back to the strand of dark hair that has escaped its high bun. She tucks it behind Laudna’s ear with exacting care, thumb grazing the gold ear-cuff. I see you. Every bit. Laudna’s eyes fill with inky tears and, when Imogen lifts her other hand to cradle her precious, lovely face, Laudna leans into the touch.

For a moment, Imogen can only stare.

There is no one in the world like Laudna—so starkly beautiful, so sweet, so enchanting. There is no one half as creative. She knows Laudna’s story—saw her die—but no one could spend an hour in Laudna’s presence and leave thinking her anything other than vibrant. How could that be death? And as for broken, well, Imogen thinks of the mosaics in Uthodurn’s royal halls, and of stained glass windows in the Dawnfather’s hall—what little she had overhead of that part of Laudna’s story—and thinks of Laudna’s mendings and crafts and the hundreds of achingly beautiful smiles Laudna has made up just for her and yes, maybe she’s been broken, but who hasn’t? How can that make her less? Less lovely, less wonderful? It doesn’t. It doesn’t. She thinks of faith and lets her pinkie slip down to touch, so gently, the ragged mark of Laudna’s first death. She thinks of destiny and meets Laudna’s eyes.

Beautiful, she thinks, and then - because they are being truthful, because they are telling each other the truth - she says it out loud too.

‘You’re beautiful. You’re my—‘ Imogen falters, tries to think of a word that doesn’t stick in her chest like a knife, but pushes on because her love doesn’t make her fearless, it just makes her brave. ‘My favourite.’

Her blush blooms purple under Imogen’s hands. Laudna glances down, shy, then up from under lashes dark and sticky with inky makeup, splayed like delicate spider legs.

‘It is strange,’ Laudna says, covering Imogen’s hands with her own when she starts to pull away, worried. ‘Don’t leave, darling. Let me… Let me?’

Let her lean in, yes, let her press close, forehead to forehead, yes, stay so still when Laudna touches her cheek, fleeting. Laudna trembles—afraid? excited? damn this fucking circlet—but the contact settles her and when she retreats, she pulls Imogen’s hands from her cheeks but doesn’t let them go. She breathes in and out. Then says,

‘Waking from death is much like waking from sleep, except it hurts. Only a little but all the time.’

Imogen’s fingers brush over Laudna’s wrist, where her pulse plods away. ‘Laudna,’ she whispers, not to interrupt. Only because Laudna ought never go a moment thinking she didn’t care.

‘For all those years, even though I…I ran and built my huts and Pate too, of course, and of course I felt things—fear and loss and joy, too, sometimes—I was alive and awake but. So much of me was still dead. I was so - confused. And angry, often. I was surviving, you see. I had strength enough to hold myself together and fix things, here and there, but no more than that. I was hungry, all the time, I had so many teeth.’ Laudna searches her face. ‘And then I met you and you helped. Cared. These past years with you… It used to be that when I wanted something, it - it was hunger I felt. This endless hunger. A great pit in my chest. And it was hard to tell, you see, what it was I wanted except for everything, anything I could get my hands on. Do you understand?’

Imogen gnaws at her lip. Slowly, she shakes her head. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t.’ She dips her head, catches Laudna’s eyes. ‘Explain it to me?’

Laudna’s fingers shake as she slides them over the backs of Imogen’s hands. Long fingers curl around one of Imogen’s wrists and she lifts it to press a chaste kiss to her knuckles, lips cool against the burning ridge of her oldest lightning scar.

‘You have given me so much. You gave me friendship and purpose and trust. Food. Fun and stories. Strength. A bed. A home. And the hunger…it doesn’t gnaw so terribly, darling. Now, when I - when I want something, it isn’t an impossible task. I needn’t lose myself in that great black pit, blinding searching for what I lack. It starts to make sense. I start to make sense. What I want. Outside of her, and hunger. You’ve given me so much,’ Laudna tells her, and her voice creaks with the weight of her words. ‘How can I possibly take more? How - selfish, how greedy it would be to want… To want.’

‘Do you want me to kiss you?’ Imogen asks, voice soft. She tries not to sound to hopeful.

Launda holds her hands for a long time. It’s maddening, because Laudna never stays still for long; she doesn’t now either, instead stroking tiny patterns against her skin, fingers sliding over and between her own. At the occasional scratch of her nails, a frisson of electricity crackles down Imogen’s arms, through her body. Finally, Laudna nods.

‘I do. Oh, Imogen, I do. I didn’t know it - I knew I would be content for centuries, the rest of my days, if only I could sleep in your bed, stand at your side, content with any touch or favour you might share with me. And then - to be kissed?’ A shy smile creeps across her lips. ‘Would it be terribly unfunny to say it struck me like a bolt?’

Imogen snorts. Pulls her hands free so she can shove at her—lightly, though, barely enough to make even Laudna sway. Her hands settle on the tender branching of Laudna’s collarbones. The fabric of the new dress is silk-smooth under her palms; the lace neckline, though, catches against her work-rough, scar-rough fingers. She strokes it again, entranced. It’s so soft, the lace, in its reluctance to let her go. It’s so beautiful, the whorling patterns of leaves and flowers, and the contrast of blue-black fabric against Laudna’s pale skin is enough to make her glow. And beneath lace and skin, the steady tap of Laudna’s pulse—a knock on the door, on the coffin lid, here I am.

Beautiful.

‘That’s dreadful,’ she scolds, wrinkling her nose.

‘That’s me. Full of dread.’ A ghostly visage flickers across Laudna’s face, there—skin and skull shifting, FRIDA’s inspiration?—and gone. ‘And you?’ she asks. ‘You too?’

‘Full of dread?’

‘Do you wish to kiss me, I meant, actually.’

Imogen swallows harshly. ‘Yeah,’ she rasps. ‘Yeah, I do.’

A frown pinches Laudna’s forehead. ‘Have you been afflicted with this desire for long?’

‘Afflict— You say it like it’s a sickness or somethin’,’ Imogen teases, but Laudna flaps a hand for her to hurry up and tell, so she shrugs. ‘Um. Yeah. I ‘spose I’ve been wantin’ to kiss you for a while,’ she admits, cheeks burning. ‘When I could hear you, it was… Do you remember when Dusk was hangin’ around, you told me you hadn’t thought about it? Hadn’t accessed that part of your brain?’ Laudna nods. ‘I know. I knew that. Because sometimes, when we were close and you…’

Imogen pauses. Sucks in a breath—it’s a little stuffy in their room, no windows, but it smells of freshly laundered sheets and paint and wood polish and Laudna and Imogen lets it steady her.

‘D’you know that you say the kindest, sweetest things sometimes? You always know what to do to calm me down or make me laugh, even when the whole world is—’ She gestures awkwardly to the south wall where the moon hovers in her minds eye. ‘You know. Going to shit. And sometimes—I wasn’t sure how much you…’ She stops again, lips twisting, frustrated. ‘I knew that you cared for me because, well, because you do.’

‘Naturally, of course.’

‘But sometimes I wondered if…if you wanted to kiss me, like I sometimes thought of doing. But when I looked into your mind, you were never thinkin’ about it so -’ Imogen shrugs, cheeks hot. ‘I never brought it up. You hardly ever thought about it when other folk were flirtin’ or talkin’ about it, so I figured it wasn’t something you wanted. And that didn’t matter to me! Just so long as you were with me, and we were together, I was happy with that. But then Dusk,’ Imogen strangles the name in her throat, hopes fiercely that Yu can feel it, wherever the fuck they might be, ‘put the idea in your head and then they…left…and you were confused and I’d sometimes catch flashes of it in your head but it didn’t feel right to bring it up, even though sometimes I thought—the way you were lookin’ at me, and not pullin’ away when I was lookin’ at you—I thought…maybe? Maybe it was - Maybe you could. Think like that. And when you died—’ Her voice cracks. ‘That wasn’t the right time either, obviously,’ she scoffs. Pulls a hand back to swipe at her eyes.

‘Darling,’

‘It had to be your choice. All of it. Everything, after what happened. And I was fucking terrified because of all those questions in my head like if I’d be pushin’ you if I asked, or makin’ you more of a target, burdenin’ you with all this Predathos moon shit—’

‘Never. Never a burden.’

‘—and then I got this,’ Imogen taps her circlet, ‘and I couldn’t hear you anymore, couldn’t check, and so, yeah, Laudna, you could say I’ve been thinkin’ about it for a while.’

‘Thinking about,’ she says, so carefully, like she’s afraid if she speaks it too loud or too fast the whole thing will break, ‘kissing. Me.’

Imogen laughs. Smiles at her with her whole face, her whole heart. Every soft, exposed, grotesque, tender part of it. ‘Yeah, sweetheart. Is that alright?’

Laudna nods jerkily. Eyes Imogen’s mouth curiously. ‘Can I - that is, if it’s alright with you,’

‘Please,’ Imogen whispers, and she isn’t sure if she’s reading her own mind or if Laudna’s is loud enough to overpower the circlet, if she’s letting the power of it subside in her eagerness to know if Laudna wants what she wants, but it’s so clear—Laudna’s dark eyes, warm and kind and wanting; her reaching hands, aligning them hurt to hurt, heart to heart; plum lips pressing, ever so gently, against hers.

The kiss lasts a heartbeat. Barely long enough to register the touch. Even so, Laudna flushes deeply. Touches her fingers to her mouth and breathes out, shaky.

‘Oh. Imogen.’

Imogen lifts a hand—‘Can I? Let me, please’—to Laudna’s neck, grazing the high collar she’d been so jealous of in the store for getting to touch Laudna’s neck, but adores now as she coaxes it down so she alone can see, can touch the soft skin of her neck. Feel the way Laudna’s breath hitches when she does, her shiver as Imogen’s fingers slide forward, following the path of her jaw and swiping beneath the hinge of it—tender, awed, lingering on the mottled silver marks of bullet holes and torn skin—before she slides her fingers into the curtain of dark dark. She presses gently, guides her forward for another kiss. Her lips find the corner of Laudna’s mouth and smiles at the noise of displeasure it pulls.

‘I think,’ Imogen whispers, kisses her more solidly. Tilts her head and loses herself in Laudna: Laudna’s nose nudging into her cheek; Laudna’s hands fluttering between her elbows and shoulders before laying gently on her back; a clumsy bump of lips, which is actually mostly chin, a giggled apology, and then something gives and Laudna’s lips are on hers again, steady and slow and careful, like they have all the time in the world, like now that she is here there is no where she would rather be. Imogen pulls back, licks her lips. Citrus bursts on her tongue.

Laudna stares at her mouth. ‘What - ‘ She has to clear her throat, voice breathy, like Imogen has kissed all the air out of her and the thought makes want crackle beneath Imogen’s skin. ‘What do you think?’

‘Amazing. Great. Perfect.’

Dark eyes gleam. Laudna smiles—no, she smirks. ‘Darling. You were saying something, that you thought…?’

‘Oh.’ Imogen starts to speak—and has to stop. She laughs. ‘Y’know, I’ve totally forgotten?’

‘Oh.’ Laudna’s blush deepens. She’s so fucking pretty. ‘It will come back to you. If it’s important.’ She fidgets. Reaches out a hand to touch Imogen’s elbow, her knee. She looks for a moment as if she is about to speak but then a calm settles over her and she only smiles and nods. ‘Do you mind, dearest, if I take a little time to fix the birdhouse? Only Pate said it’s dreadfully uncomfortable and I think - if I add some soft cushion fabric, maybe curtains - I can fix the place up for him.’

Imogen nods. She understands—and could do with a minute to calm down too. She crawls around Laudna up to the headboard, props herself up against it.

Laudna frowns. ‘Really? Boots on the bed?‘

She smiles, closes her eyes. ‘It’ll be alright, I’ll magic the dirt away after.’

‘It’s the principle of the thing,’ Laudna insists. After a few moments of Imogen ignoring her, Laudna sets aside the birdhouse and begins to unbuckle Imogen’s boots. Imogen watches, thoughts far too chaotic to pin down. It doesn’t take long—Laudna has helped her before, when migraines stopped her from doing just about anything—and she pats Imogen’s shin, tuts at the unhappy state of her socks, and mends the hole by her big toe with a needle and thread of black shadow. It looks good as new when she is done.

‘There,’ Imogen drawls, snuggling down into the pillow at her back. ‘What would I do without you?’

Laudna laughs. ‘You’d wear boots in bed and put your cups upside down on the shelves–’

‘First of all, I’m right about that and second of all,’ she nudges Laudna with her toe, ‘I never wanna find out.’

She smiles and, oh, Imogen thinks, Dawnfather, eat your heart out. You don’t know light like this. You couldn’t make a light like hers if you had a thousand solstices.

They spend a lazy afternoon together. They don’t kiss again—Laudna is far too intent on her work, and Imogen merely watches her and allows time and proximity to ease the tight, grating knot of nerves in her chest that had built with every moment of Laudna’s absence. She asks easy questions and retreads old, familiar jokes and stories, and everything resettles. In some ways, it is as it has always been. It’s the two of them, together. It’s also new in a way that makes Imogen’s heart flutter every time she remembers; I kissed her, I can kiss her.

‘Pate,’ Laudna croons, as she takes apart old clothes and blankets, stitches them into cushions for the interior of the birdhouse. ‘Come out, come out, wherever you are,’ she sings, and the rat-bird clambers out of his wooden house and up her arm, waits until she’s packed the cushions into place to skitter back inside, taking pride of place in the decadence. ‘What do you think of your new ho-ome?’ It’s so fucking weird. They both are. Imogen has to get closer to her. Tucks a foot under Laudna’s knee—who beams at her, wraps a chilly hand around her ankle and keeps her close—and makes a note to kiss Pate on top of his awful little skull soon. Just because. ‘What do you think? Will this be more comfortable?’

‘It’s nice!’ he croaks, little paws patting walls and floor. ‘I do have a suggestion, though—’

‘What! You’ve only been alive for a few months, what could you possibly know about decorating?’ she demands, aghast.

Pate flies from the house, landing on the roof. There are no eyes in his bird skull but Imogen swears he rolls them anyway. ‘Pfft! What don’t I know? I’m the whole package, you know. Bird brains and rat cunning, fanks very much.’

‘Fine, then, if you’re so smart! What’s your suggestion?’

‘Curtains.’

‘Curtains?’

‘Curtains. For, you know, setting the mood, or sleeping in the day. Or if you two need a little, heh, private time to lock lips—’

‘Alright, yes, fine!’ Laudna yelps. ‘I’ll make you some damn curtains!’

Pate chuckles. His wings peel open with a wet squelch that Imogen is never going to get used to—how could he be wet, he’s been dead for years, that’s what she wants to know—and he takes off with one, two laborious flaps of his wings, gliding down to the bed covers and scampering back into his now-comfortable home. ‘Thank ye kindly,’ he calls out from within.

Laudna grumbles as she pulls together curtains rather quickly, delving in her pack for supplies. She pulls out shards of metal–splinters, almost, but as long as her palm.

‘What’re those?’ Imogen asks, as she tries to bully the pillow under her head into a more comfortable shape.

‘Hm? Oh - one of Ashton’s climbing pitons. It shattered.’

The pillow refuses to be comfortable; Imogen gives up, gets up to search the room for wherever the other pillow went. She finds it, after a while, on the top shelf of the little linen closet and jumps for it before remembering she knows telekinesis. How in the nine hells Zhudanna even got it up there, she has no clue. Wandering back to the bed, Imogen watches over Laudna’s shoulder for a minute as she crafts.

‘You went climbing?’

‘When we were separated, that’s where we landed,’ Laudna says. ‘On a cliffside. Jagged rocks, Steam vents. Now that I think about it, we were rather lucky, actually, that we didn’t appear in the air above a sharp spike or roll off the cliff. But yes, we had to climb,’ she says, and tells Imogen all about it— finding Deni$e - Mona, at the time—and the climb and the endless valley of verdant trees.

Imogen listens carefully, heart heavy. She thinks of a long, cold walk and finding truly kind friends at the end of it - a celestial bull they befriended - shopping - the warmth and bustle and commerce and, yes, anxiety, of Uthodurn, and meeting royalty—and she thinks of Laudna, who dislocates something whenever she sneezes, having to pull herself up a cliffside. She rubs Laudna’s shoulder and dips her head, presses a kiss there on her back—because she can, because she wants to, because Laudna wants it too. Laudna hums, a happy sound.

‘I’m sorry you ended up there.’

‘It wasn’t all bad. It was rather beautiful. I would have enjoyed it, I think, if you had been there.’

‘Maybe we’ll go together someday.’

Laudna smiles. Affixes one of the piton curtain-rods into place as Pate guides her—’Higher, higher on the left - other left - all of it lower now - perfect!’

‘I think Ashton will want to go back.’

‘Oh?’

‘There was something of the Hishari there - a town. Cursed now, apparently. He wants answers.’

‘Then that’s what we’ll do,’ Imogen agrees. ‘Kill the moon, then go on holiday to a cursed town in Issylra. Sounds nice.’

‘You were right, by the way,’ Imogen says later, as they walk back from the Windowed Wall to their friends.

‘Of course I was.’ Laudna beams across at her, tone bright, teasing; it’s such a shift from her mood of the morning that Imogen can do nothing but smile back at her. ‘About what, though?’

‘You said if it was important, I’d remember what I was gonna say. And I remember now.’’ Imogen wraps her arm through Laudna’s, pulls her in tight. There aren’t many people crowding the street but she doesn’t need an excuse to hold her close anymore. ‘You know, the thought you kissed right outta my head?’

‘Imogen!’ Laudna slaps her hand lightly, but her eyes gleam. Imogen thinks she might be pleased by the idea of driving her to distraction. ‘Well, go on then. What was it?’

‘You asked if I’d been thinking about it for a long time. Kissin’ you. I was gonna say, I think I’ll never get it outta my head. I’m gonna be thinkin’ about kissing you forever. If that’s alright with you.’

Laudna’s chin lifts - proud, pleased by the idea, clearly - and she gains what could only be called a strut. Her cheeks colour faintly. ‘I’ll be thinking about it too.’ Her eyes glitter brightly over a sweet smile. ‘After all, you’re very capable,’ she teases, and laughs, delighted, at the blush her words pull from Imogen.

They’re still smiling when they rejoin their friends. It earns them strange looks, but fond, relieved. No one pries—though Ashton has a stare like a crowbar—and they say nothing, for now.

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #cr tag #imodna my beloveds #imodna

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transmutationisms · 8 months

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Long time listener first time caller (well not really I'm pretty sure we've talked about Succession before). I wanna read up more on anti psychiatry but I'm fucking shithouse at reading, are there any like videos or podcasts or audiobooks you'd recommend, because that would make my life ten times easier

yes great question honestly. i haven't heard all of these podcast episodes, but i curated the list based on knowing the speakers' work (not necessarily the podcast hosts/shows!), and i think these are good places to start.

"Debunking the Myth of the Chemical Imbalance with Dr. Joanna Moncrieff" interviewed by Dr. Caroline Leaf

Revolution Health Radio: "Reviewing the Evidence on the Serotonin Theory of Depression, with Dr. Joanna Moncrieff"

Mad in America Radio: Lucy Johnstone on the Power Threat Meaning Framework

NPR Fresh Air: Anne Harrington on psychiatry's "troubled search" for a biological understanding of mental illness

New Books Network: Mical Raz on her book "What's Wrong With the Poor: Psychiatry, Race, and the War on Poverty"

The Mental Breakdown Morning Show: "Bruce Cohen and Psychiatric Hegemony" (Cohen, unlike most on this list, explicitly aims for a marxist explanation and understanding of mental illness)

Madness Radio: "Bipolar Medication Myths" (Joanna Moncrieff interviewed by Will Hall)

What Your GP Doesn't Tell You: "David Healy Discusses SSRI Drugs, Suicide and Sexual Dysfunction"

Coming From Left Field: "The Political Economy of Mental Health Systems with Joanna Moncrieff"

States of Mind: "Mental Illness in America" (includes segments with Katherine Bankole-Medina, Jonathan Metzl, Allan Horwitz, Jamie Cohen-Cole, and Elyn Saks)

Jesse Meadows's podcast on ADHD, "Sluggish" (haven't listened to this one, but have read a lot of their writing; they're challenging the psychiatric view of ADHD as a person who struggles with the symptoms and behaviours the diagnostic label describes)

audio books: i'm honestly not sure where's the best and cheapest place to actually download these from, but i know there are audio books of 'mind fixers' by anne harrington (narrated by joyce bean) and 'desperate remedies' by andrew scull (narrated by jonathan keeble). uh, if anyone has a good list of audiobooks on this lmk :-)

#psychiatry

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wolfjackle-creates · 1 year

Text

Ghost!Robin Part 5

First, Previous

This is probably the segment you've all been waiting for. Hope it holds up to expectations! 1.1k words.

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Before Danny could ask any questions about what the big deal was, Dick nudged him. “Which do you want—curry or beef?”

“Can I try both?”

“Alfred loves to see people enjoy his food. Eat as much as you can, then take a few more bites.” Dick handed him one platter followed by another. Robin watched on as Danny scooped some of each onto his plate.

When the ghost pointed to the potatoes and patted his stomach, Danny made sure to grab a large scoop and took a bite of that first. It was heavenly.

He raised his second spoonful up to Robin as a thank you for the recommendation.

“The potatoes are my favorite, too,” commented Jason who must’ve seen.

That caused Danny to raise and eyebrow and flick his eyes to Robin again. “I can understand why; they’re to die for.”

Jazz choked back a laugh. “Now you’re just stealing Dick’s joke from earlier,” she said.

“What can I say? It was a good one.”

Dick clucked his tongue. “Jason’s the same way. I don’t get how you can joke about almost dying.”

Danny tried the curry and shrugged. “This is so good. And I dunno, death jokes are super common in Amity. What else are you supposed to do when surrounded by ghosts?”

Dick just shook his head. “Well, if you say so. Now, here, try this, too,” he said as he scooped more food onto Danny’s plate.

Danny did so obediently and the conversation moved to lighter topics.

When he was mostly done with his plate, Robin decided it would be a great time to sit down on the table between him and Jazz. He stared at Danny and pointed to himself then raised an eyebrow. “When help me?” he mouthed.

“Jazz, I hope you’re well rested because I keep remembering more things I need to tell you about tonight after dinner.” On the last words, he made eye contact with Robin.

Who was not happy at all with his response. He stood on the table and seemed to grow in size. “Now,” he mouthed, foot stomp included. Angry-frustrated pulses filled the space.

“Danny?” asked Jazz.

Damn, he’d completely missed her reply. “Um, sorry Jazz, I got a work message earlier and I’m a bit distracted. Could you repeat that?”

Her eyes narrowed. She was totally onto him. “Something is up with you tonight.”

“Who me?” he rubbed the back of his neck and put on his innocent grin, the one that never worked on her. Flicking his eyes to Robin, he asked, “Why?” hoping that Jazz would take it as directed to her.

She stared at him a moment longer before turning back to Jason and pointedly ignoring Danny. Robin also moved until he was next to Jason, their faces side-by-side.

Then he removed his domino mask to show bright blue eyes, the exact color of Jason’s.

“Well fuck.” No way could he keep silent after that reveal.

The rest of the table fell silent and Bruce looked concerned. “Is everything all right, Danny?” he asked

Robin flew over to Bruce next and held two fingers to either side of his head and wiggled them.

“Well, double fuck.” Danny let his head bang on the table and cursed under his breath in Sumerian.

Dick touched his shoulder. “What’s wrong?” The concern was clear in his voice.

“Danny?” demanded Jazz.

Danny sat up and looked longingly at the remaining food on his plate before pushing away from the table and holding up his PDA and bag. “I’m sorry, I have to excuse myself for a few minutes. An important work thing.”

“Really, Danny? Can’t it wait?” asked Jazz.

“No. It really can’t.”

“Will you at least be quick?” she tried.

Danny sighed. “This’ll probably take ages to sort out in full. But the first part should only take a few minutes.” He looked over the rest of the table and bit his lip. He should tell them something, but where to even begin? And it’s not like Robin, Jason?, whatever, wouldn’t spill the beans as soon as he was able. So he just turned and let the room, Robin right on his heels.

“How far away from Jason, er, from your living self, can you get?” he asked quietly as soon as he felt like they were out of immediate earshot.

Robin flew a few feet down the hall and around corner. They were only just out of sight of the doorway and well within shouting range. In fact, he could still hear the sounds of conversation, even if exact words were difficult to make out.

Robin floated before him, no longer smiling, and held out a hand.

Danny stared at it a moment before grabbing it and pulling Robin into a hug. The ghost felt so insubstantial in his arms, like a wisp of silk or an underinflated balloon. Without thought, he transformed and surrounded Robin more securely in his aura.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t visit sooner,” whispered Danny. “I’m sorry I didn’t know about you until now.”

There was a tug on his core. Robin was trying to take some of his power. Danny pushed as well, giving it willingly. In his arms, Robin grew more solid.

With Robin’s increased corporeality, Danny became aware the boy was shaking. He chirped an I’m here, you’re safe message.

Robin trilled his thanks and nerves.

Before Danny could ask what Robin wanted to do next, they were startled apart by a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass and china and a voice shouting, “What the fuck?”

In the hallway, in perfect view of Danny and Robin, stood Alfred and Duke. A dropped tray and shattered dishes decorated the floor at Alfred’s feet and Duke had barely kept hold of his own tray and was half turned away but squinting at Danny and Robin like they were painful to look at.

Shouted questions and running footsteps echoed from the dining room and then everyone else was there, too.

Danny ignored everyone, focusing on Jazz who was staring at him in pure terror. Before he could assure her it would be all right, she was moving, ducking under arms until she was in front of him.

She fell into a fighting stance and pulled out a fenton staff. With the press of a button, it powered on, glowing like a double-sided light saber in her hands. “If any of you try to turn in my brother or hurt him, I will end you.”

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Tag list!

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#dpxdc #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jason todd #anger management #ghost!robin #my writing #this is gonna go well #no way it could go wrong

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