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#i don’t think i’ve ever liked anyone this much
scientia-rex · 3 days
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One of my patients used to be a Big Deal Specialist in the city and you can just TELL he’s SEETHING that no one out here is even qualified to understand what he did, much less how important he was. He’s also terrified of death. It’s both annoying and really sad. Like, sir, I hate to break it to you, but no amount of knowledge will protect you from the ravages of time. It’s a special kind of hell to know the stages of various fatal diseases intimately. What is it going to feel like when it’s my turn? How do doctors want to die? Suddenly, quietly. Slip away painlessly in my sleep. But how likely is that? Not very. More likely I’ll get cardiovascular disease or cancer, the greatest killers of our time.
He was so afraid of cancer he had an organ that wasn’t cancerous removed just in case. He talks down to me as if I’m his student, and who knows? Maybe I was. He was in the same city as me, and they were forever dragging Big Name Doctors in to teach us things. Maybe I learned how to elicit Achilles tendon reflexes from him.
But mostly I find myself a little scornful. Who lives without the shadow of death? Who doesn’t think about death all the time? When you die, life is a round thing, finished and whole. What will your life look like when God holds it in the palm of his hand?
Also don’t fucking call me by my first name unless I’ve specifically said you can. I don’t GIVE that permission to patients, except for my mentally ill trans and queer patients. If I wanted to be disrespected by an older man I would have married young.
You do not have time. This important doctor who based his whole life around his importance lived as rich and full a life as anyone. And now he’s clinging to it, leaving fingernail marks on the walls on his way out. No one has time. There will be a moment when you’re dying when you think, I would give anything I have to be back in that moment. Any ordinary moment. Taking the dogs out to go potty. Browsing at the grocery store. When you’re being crucified on a hospital bed, dying and aware of it through the morphine, you would give anything you ever possessed to go back and have one more agony-free afternoon. Sit on a curb or a stoop. Walk through a park. Hug your spouse. These tiny fragmentary moments that we are constantly sliding through, tobogganing past at high speeds, these are what will be our life when our life is over.
I am accountable to that self. To the dying me. What did I do with this gift and curse? I don’t believe in God, but I know that I will die, and I have watched enough dying people by now to know the kinds of things I’ll think about. I want to make that me proud of what I’ve done and how I’ve spent my life. She will be a harder judge than God, and I want her to look at this one little life and think, yes. I did what I meant to.
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My personal take on the Crows’ names post-marriage
(I included helnik, just humour me, I still have thoughts on what they’d each want)
Names are very much established as important and powerful in the presentation of all the characters in the Six of Crows Duology, particularly for Kaz, Inej, and Wylan. (for Kaz the new surname that has become his identity whilst he suppresses the person he used to be, for Inej having been denied her name as a tool of dehumanisation and also as her link to her family and to a culture that the city she’s trapped in looks down upon, for Wylan the association of his surname with his father and with his family business as well as what was once a longing to disappear and not have anyone know who he was)
I personally don’t think that any of the Crows would want to give up their surnames when they got married. I do believe that Wylan would change his surname to Hendriks post-Crooked Kingdom, but I think he would keep Hendriks rather than changing to Fahey after marriage to maintain his connection to his mother. I don’t think Nina would want to give up her surname because, although she doesn’t have family connections to it, it’s a massive part of her identity and her love for Matthias is unending but she’s not going to compromise who she is for it - especially considering her fear of disconnection from Ravkan culture and the fact that taking Helvar would be taking a Fjerdan name. Matthias would absolutely respect the hell out of that, and I can see them having a very open discussion about the possibility of him taking on Zenik but I don’t see him being ultimately comfortable with it because his family is very important to him and he’s the only living connection to them, plus he was raised with antiquated gender roles that he is in the process of unlearning and has his own complexities in terms of his relationship with Ravka and may not feel comfortable taking on a Ravkan name. I can see them both hyphenating, but I think it’s more likely that they would each keep their own names and their kids would hyphenate Helvar-Zenik. Wylan and Jesper I think would both keep their names and their kids would either hyphenate Hendriks-Fahey or keep Hendriks for the purpose of the business being under Wylan’s name, personally I think Jesper would want his name in there for the kids but idk. I can also see them adopting older children, in which case they’d keep their own surnames or Jesper and Wylan would encourage them to choose whatever they want to themselves when they are in a safe and healthy position to think about it, similarly to Wylan choosing to take on Hendriks, but that would be highly dependent on their personal circumstances pre- and post- adoption. Kaz and Inej I’ve seen a lot of discussion about and I absolutely get why; for me they would each keep their own names but their children would take Ghafa rather than Brekker, but honestly I like every variation I’ve seen I personally just don’t see Inej ever taking Brekker. Maybe Reitveld, but I don’t think she’d take Brekker. Inej’s experiences at the Menagerie so directly involved both the loss of her culture and the forced appropriation and sexualisation of it and so much of her journey is about reclaiming her power and everything that the city did to her I just don’t think she would ever want to lose her connection to her heritage or to her parents when she lost them for such a significant period, and I honestly don’t know that Kaz would want his kids to take on Brekker because everything that name represents to him will forever be connected to the period of his life where he was at his lowest and his mind was at its darkest, I don’t think that the Kaz Brekker he invented had a future and I don’t think he was supposed to, he was purely a creature born of revenge that was birthed in the harbours of Ketterdam with nothing but revenge burning a hole in his heart. If he chose to return to Reitveld then I see that as a far more likely surname for their kids than Brekker, but I also don’t see Kaz having any particular qualms over his children being Ghafa’s I’m just not convinced he would take the name on himself
Anyway these are obvs just my opinions and if anyone differs let me know, I’d be interested to know if I fall in a similar place to most folks or not :)
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yuri-is-online · 2 days
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Hi Yuri! Have you ever considered the idea of there being an alternate version of the twst boys in Yuu’s world? Since we have no clue if it’s just another planet or an entirely separate universe, it’s theoretically possible. Poor Yuu would think they are going crazy seeing a familiar face or hearing a familiar voice in another world. Perhaps it is even painful to the point Yuu tries to avoid interacting with the boy in question. - 🦐
(Also, I am well aware of how often I’ve been sharing these thoughts. If they’re annoying you or you don’t feel up to it, I don’t want you to feel pressured to respond or anything. I’m just spitballing and posting before I forget. 👉👈)
OH BOY DO I HAVE SOME THOUGHTS ON THIS!!!!! (first and foremost being that you are very much not annoying <3)
An alt version of a twst boy in Yuu's world is just so yummy. There's so much angst potential depending on what the relationship is/was. Did their boy die in some horrible accident? Is he waiting for them, anxious and terrified about where Yuu went? Does this imply that twst also has a version of Yuu somewhere out there in the world? Questions questions. I did sort of write about this idea in the tags of this yan version of the soulbound au, wherein a cursed Yuu driven insane by their curse kills their soulmate before being isekaid to Twisted Wonderland and finding a different version of him, horrified with the realization that they could kill him again... but I want to cook up some dynamics for what the dorm leaders/overblot boys could be up to in Yuu's world first sooo...
I had a hard time thinking about Riddle until I remembered he's a horse girl and cast Yuu in the role of bad boy ranch hand whose dad's got a job at the barn so they're forced to help take care of the horses and warn all the would be YA protags about the "special horse" who doesn't take orders from just anyone. Not that Riddle is the protagonist... he's more the well established rich petty bitch who looks down on the new girls and especially on you because you're never taking care of his horse in accordance with all his stupid rules. And in stereotypical horse movie fashion Riddle has a massive not so secret crush on bad boy ranch hand Yuu who just doesn't get why he keeps trying to talk to them.
There isn't much royalty left in the world, but imagine Leona as the son of some rich business magnate whose older brother got the company and left him with "nothing." Maybe Yuu works at a liquor store part time and Leona comes in to pick stuff up every once in a while. You wouldn't call him a friend, but you guys shoot the shit enough that you have a general feel for each other to the point he joins you on your breaks to keep up the talk and play chess.
I love the idea of student president council Azul. He's made for that trope. Born for it, he'd be such a terror with Jade as his VP and Floyd as well. Floyd. I can't see him really being a part of the student council but I had this idea the other day based off this instagram post I saw about this mom who sews right? Her daughter was running for class president and she made these bracelets with little shrimp on them and attached them to cards that said "Keep it shrimple! Vote for (kid's name)!" And I was struck with this vision of Yuu doing that so like. Yuu running against Azul with that campaign slogan and he's tearing his hair out over it being so popular because people like memes (the original idea had Floyd running as Yuu's vp but they both dropped out at the last minute because neither him or Yuu wanted to do the actual work lol.) I also like student council president Azul and delinquent Yuu... but that's because of Tsuredure Children ha
Kalim and Jamil are hard... but I think the same set up of rich businessman's kid and his bodyguard in training still fits. How Yuu meets them is beyond me, but if you were friends with either of them could you imagine how painful seeing the same tragedy play out in this new world would be? Jamil doomed to always be a servant and Kalim doomed to be betrayed by his best friend... that would be so painful for someone who cared deeply about either of them I could see it motivating Yuu to try and resolve things for twst Jamil and Kalim that much harder.
Ok so hear me out... Vil still wants to be an actor in your world but he doesn't have the connections to his dad and is working as a pharm tech with Yuu at your local drugstore while going to school and hunting for gigs. He mentions being interested in cosmetics and magical pharmacology in game... and he also mentions knowing nothing about his mom so like. Your world Vil ended up with his mom instead of his dad and you get to see him on the cusp of his big break as one of his number one supporters from the very start, only to get isekaid to a world where you get to see what things could have looked like. It's strange how similar and yet not both versions of Vil are...
Idia is the guy who comes in to buy snacks at your convenience store during the night shift who you start talking to when you notice him buying a game time card for something you also play. You're stupid awkward around each other at first, but it's nice to finally have someone to talk about your niche interest with once you've passed each other's sniff tests. You don't actually know him know him though... so getting sent to another world where there's another version of him makes you worried the more you learn about his backstory that maybe you should have been there for your Idia more. Is he doing ok back home? Did he think of you as a friend? You hope he isn't blaming himself for any of this...
Malleus is an old money trust fund baby whose family was absolutely royalty at some point and is still overly attached to it. He likes old buildings, cemeteries, long walks in the fog, you know all those good goth things. He's tall and socially awkward and so grateful for you, his first and best friend who he met one moonlight night he swore was a dream in his favorite abandoned building who spoke at length with him about all sorts of things he liked. So you know. More or less the same. Just without the world ending powers... I think this is another one that would be quite sad. Which version of Malleus needs Yuu more? Which one is the real one? I'd hate the idea of him being destined to always be lonely and lose the ones he loves.
As for Yuu avoiding them... I could see that. It would feel weird seeing someone you love so much only for it not to be them at all. I know that the Lovebrush Chronicles kiiiiind of deals with this??? I wish I had the patience to play through it has an appealing glasses wearing ro but it's a mobile otome :/ but still. It's a concept I promise I am totally normal about.
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Just realized I don’t think I’ve like ever really dug into how I imagine the infection works with Infected/Kasper
To be fair I think it’s been pretty clear just based on my drawings, the ask blog, the uh other stuff also that I forgot
Very ice king/Simon Petrikov sort of situation (I FUCKINGN. LOVE APOCALYPSE SIMON FOR THOSE THAT WERE THERE FOR THAT HI. YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL.)
Kasper is like. A person. Like he acts like a person and is a person (crazy I know) the virus parasite whatever you wanna call it that’s what makes Infected kinda just. Weird. Like something that is vaguely similar but more like something pretending to be him on face value.
infected is a slur sayer put that boy in a cod lobby NOW!
Like ice king is kinda of a severely skewed memory of Simon, yanno? He’s his own kinda silly weird thing but there’s a few parts that’s like oh that’s Simon (😢) same sort of idea
It also kinda plays into an idea I had that Kasper just wasn’t particularly close with anyone outside of Lampert, like those two were basically siblings they literally did nothing unless the other was there, And I think it kind of works itself out, because all the others don’t really seem to care very much about infected beyond yea that’s infected and he is gross.
When kasper was infected, other people just didn’t really notice as much because again he kinda jsut acts at a very flat face value of the person that Kasper was
I don’t know if any of what I’m saying is making sense bare with me
It’s why Lampert really jsut can’t stand Infected, Infected is a bad caricature of Kasper and it’s sickening (also literally, I mean Infected is gross and snotty nasty)
I think how it went was like, Kasper gets whatever it is from the thrift store that has the infection in it (I like to think it’s the roomba, because it’s ironic and also I bought a roomba once and it was fucking full of cockroaches and it took months to get rid of them.)
It infects him and at first it’s like ah shucks sick again guess I’ll stay indoors, but then it kinda just progresses to complete isolation
Kasper may have had pretty bad anger issues but he never took it out on the people closest to him (Lampert) so.. yea
Anyway yah isolates for a while and then suddenly appears in public again, still sick but very much not the same LOL I hate that guy anyway bye im gonna spend exactly $1.28 now
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hannahssimblr · 2 days
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“Evan, can I sit?”
He glances up at me and shrugs, patting the ground next to him so I slump down heavily on it and take a healthy gulp from my bottle. 
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“You good, man?”
“Yeah, amazing.”
“I, uh, I see you were chatting to Leah, there? You know each other?”
“Nah.”
“Really? Well... she’s a weirdo anyway, you’re better off getting away from her, like, I just sell her weed and stuff, I don’t really like when she hangs around too long.”
“Yeah, fair enough.” 
“Was she being weird with you?” 
“Nope.” 
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We’re silent as we watch the flames. I begin to wonder what time it is, and whether I've stayed long enough now for it to be acceptable to go home. As I watch all of the other friends around the fire have fun together I’m struck by how much of an outsider I really am. Sure, Rob and Katie are nice, but will any of that niceness extend into normal life with the eyes of everyone else at school upon us? Surely they will go back to the steps at the back of the school while I go back to the rugby changing rooms, or the library, as it may be and things will resume as they are, as they've always been and always will be. Realistically, would they ever be seen with me? Would I ever be seen with them? There's this weird, empty feeling in me, a feeling that just compounds day after day, month after month, year after year, and it's like I don’t belong anywhere or to anyone. I'm just floating in the in-between, and who even am I? What does it mean to even-
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“Hey,” Evan interrupts my spiralling inner dialogue, “I meant to say to you that it’s cool that you came along, you know, even when Jen and Michelle didn’t.”
This takes me by surprise, “You think?”
“Yeah, I mean, I suppose I kind of thought you were just hanging out with us sometimes because of them, and that you didn’t really want to be there, but,” a shrug, “I suppose that isn’t true.”
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“No, I like hanging out with you.”
“And it’s not just because you’ve been ostracised by your other friends?”
I hesitate for a beat, “No.”
Evan laughs, “Wow, I’m so convinced!”
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“No, come on,” I rock to the side and nudge his shoulder with mine, “Like, yeah, sometimes it’s nice to have Jen here, but I’m fine, I can handle myself around the emos… and as for Michelle, well, she hates me, so it’s actually kinda comfier when she’s not here, and- oh,” I realise immediately what I’ve said, “um, well I don’t really mean that, it-”
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“No, it’s okay,” Evan says, “I know that you two aren’t exactly best friends or anything.”
“Ah, so she’s talked to you about me.” 
“Nah, you’ve honestly never come up in conversation.”
“Somehow that’s worse.”
He snickers. 
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“How are, um,” I pick at the beer label with my thumb, “How are things going with you guys? Like, the last time we talked you were feeling kinda…”
A sigh, “Oh, yeah, it’s the same. Like, she’s so nice but sometimes I don’t feel like I get enough from her.”
“Uh huh.”
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“I kind of get a bit annoyed about it sometimes, like, how are we supposed to be together properly if I hardly see her? Like, man, she’s allowed to come to my house like, once a week. In the afternoon. And that’s the only time we can… uh, hook up or whatever. It’s so annoying.”
“Just from an outsider's perspective, you know, you seem pretty happy.”
“Yeah. She’s definitely into me,” He musses up and fixes his fringe, “I dunno. It’s fine, just sometimes I wonder about shit. You know what I mean, right?”
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“I’m probably not the best person to ask, seeing none of my relationships have worked out so far, and I’m also fairly drunk, so…”
“But you know what it’s like to be with someone who wouldn’t give you the things you needed, right?”
“Yeah, ‘course.”
“So you do get it.”
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“Mm, I suppose,” as our conversation tapers off I let my mind drift into thoughts about love and loneliness and the hollow disappointment of all of my relationships. These are bitter, useless, self destructive thoughts as usual, made even worse by the fact that I’m not exactly capable of rational thought while inebriated. Is drinking bad for me? Am I a miserable drunk? I have to physically shake myself out of my own head before I start talking myself into a hole again.
I turn to Evan to start saying something else about, I don’t know, whether he’s ever tried pranking someone by turning their school bag inside out and putting the books back into it or something stupid like that, but I see he’s distracted by something else across the bonfire. 
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It’s that girl with the pink hair. She’s leaning over a bag to rummage for more beer, and her short skirt rides up when she’s bent over like that so that her underwear is visible through the sheer material of her tights. I frown at the dirty little smirk on his face, the way hungry eyes follow her movements, and the look between them as she glances over her shoulder and sees him watching her. I nudge my knee against his to interrupt whatever is going on.
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“Wow, nice legs, huh?” 
He looks at me, surprised, but lets out a rough laugh, “Yeah, for sure.”
“Is she into you or am I just seeing things?”
“Nah, I don’t know about that.”
“Oh, c’mon, no, I’m just messing with you, she just looked like… I dunno.”
“Like what?”
I shift awkwardly, “You know what, don’t mind me, I’ve had too much to drink, I thought I detected flirting, or whatever, I guess I was wrong.”
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The girl kneels onto the ground and starts asking around for the bottle opener, and Evan doesn’t take his eyes away from her. “She’s pretty though, isn’t she?”
“Hm?”
“Carlie. That’s her name. She’s pretty, do you think?”
“She’s single?”
“Yep.”
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“So are you trying to set me up with her or are you just pointing that out?”
“I’m not trying to set you up.” Evan seems agitated by this idea that I might try to date pretty Carlie, who, by the way, treats me like I am contagious. As though it’s any of his business what she does, as if he should even care. Something sour settles in my gut, but I can’t tell whether it’s that I'm weirded out by this conversation or if the alcohol is nauseating me. 
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“Right, well, she’s not my type,” I watch his face carefully, “Is she yours?”
“She’s pretty hot.”
Maybe he's looking for my approval or my agreement, which I don’t give him on purpose. To see where it leads me I respond with a benign, “Oh, you think?”
“Uh huh,” They catch eyes again and she smiles coyly and quickly looks away to resume her conversation. That’s flirtation. She’s flirting with him, and him back, right in front of my face. 
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“You know, a lot of people would consider your girlfriend to be pretty hot too.” It’s true, I’ve heard those rugby boys saying it before, the only time they ever had anything remotely complimentary to say about any of the emos was to point out the things they fancied about Michelle and what they might like to do to her if she A. wasn’t emo, or B. nobody knew, so that they wouldn’t have to suffer the social consequences. I feel disgusted again at this memory. I know where I was, sitting on the bench lacing up my boots and saying nothing while they spoke casual filth about a girl I know. 
It’s a similar feeling to the one I have now at this bonfire with Evan, and maybe this is how he is when he’s drunk, maybe he just gets a bit… leery, but when he stares across the fire at someone who isn’t his girlfriend I swear I am looking at Willy FitzHerbert. 
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He waves my comment away, “Yeah but at least Carlie is interested in sex.”
“How do you know that?”
He leans closer, “Obviously because I’ve done it with her.”
“Yeah?” I say, “When?”
He smirks and says nothing.
I push him again. “A few years ago?”
He lowers his voice and looks at me with eyes that glitter with salacious excitement. I don’t think I’ve ever once seen another boy look so pleased with himself as he says: “Try a month ago.”
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It takes all my self control not to react. I just pause for a second as a shock of revulsion rips through my body, I feel it from my feet to the top of my head, and then, when I decide to speak, my voice is strange to my own ears, “While you were with Michelle.”
A shrug, “It just happened on a night out when she wasn’t there. I dunno.”
“She doesn’t know?”
“Course not. She’d break up with me.”
“And... you don’t want that.”
“No, because we’re in love. This stuff with Carlie, it was just… you get what I mean. It’s not like that with her.”
I sigh, “Uh, yep.”
So it appears it is the same for Evan as it is for all the others. Michelle is the virgin, Carlie is the slut and he wants it all at the same time. A girl worthy of love, and a girl interested in sex, two things that cannot converge. There is no girl that can be both.
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“It felt good to let loose with someone who knew what they were doing, and like, not have to think so hard about making the other person all safe and comfortable and, blah,” he rolls his eyes, “Carlie is cool.”
“Right, yeah, she seems it.”
“You get me, right? Guys like us, you know, we need to be able to just relax sometimes, not think so hard…”
“Yeah, for sure… Guys like us, huh?”
“Hell yeah!” He clinks his beer bottle against mine, “I knew you’d get it, honestly, I wasn’t sure if I should say something but I feel good now that you understand what I meant.”
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I try to laugh but it sounds weird and strangled, so I bring the bottle to my lips in the hope that drinking will disguise my discomfort, or at the very least numb it a bit. I finish the last two thirds of it and toss it somewhere amongst the miscellaneous rubbish, remnants of a hundred other miserable bonfire nights on Dollymount strand.  
Then, after a minute or two Evan nudges me again. It’s hard to look at him but I force myself to because it is what I would do if this situation was normal, “You’re not going to say anything, right? Like, to Michelle or Jen? Like I know you probably won’t...” A laugh as he adjusts his fringe, “That'd be insane, I know, but I wanted to make sure.”
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“Me? Nah,” I say, “Why would you even have to ask? Don’t worry about it,” I scratch the back of my head, “your, uh, your secret is safe with me.”
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These were some of the tags on one of those "Are they soulmates?" polls...
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Okay, once more with feeling...
The axis mundi runs through heaven but it's not the corridors that we see later on in the series that the angels use to get around up there. It's the path that a soul can take to move through their memories, their own heaven. If they follow it long enough it will lead them to the garden. Just like the axis mundi, the garden appears differently to different souls. But Sam and Dean both see the axis mundi the same, a two lane blacktop road, and they both see the garden the same, the Cleveland Botanical Gardens. Every other time they show us Heaven, souls have to pull serious tricks to get out of their heaven and into someone else's but Dean doesn't have to do anything special to find or get to Sam, he just follows the path through his heaven which leads him to Sam. Ash finds them together because they are in a shared heaven, that's literally how the show set it up. Only special cases like soulmates share heavens and they see the garden and the axis mundi the same because they are soulmates.
And whether or not Sam and Dean are soulmates in the show has absolutely ZERO to do with anyone's personal ideas about soulmates and what they are or aren't. All that matters for this discussion is what the show says. I realize the show didn't come right out and say, "Sam and Dean, you two are soulmates" but that is the only fucking reason that the idea of soulmates would have ever been brought up in the first place. What the show did say was...
Sam: So… no offense… Ash: (interrupting) How did a dirt bag like me end up in a place like this? I’ve been saved, man. I was my congregation’s number one snake handler. Sam: (smiling) And you said this was your heaven? Ash: Yup! My own… personal… (Ash shotguns his beer while Sam and Dean watch. He burps.) Sam: And when the angels jumped us? We were… Ash: In your heaven. Sam: So there’re two heavens? Ash: No. More like a hundred billion. So, no worries, it’ll take those angels boys a minute to catch up. Dean: (completely confused) What? Ash: See, you gotta stop thinking of heaven as one place. It’s more like a butt-load of places all crammed together. Like Disneyland except without all the anti-Semitism. (Dean and Sam still look confused.) Sam: Disneyland? Ash: Mm-hmm. Yeah. See you got Winchesterland. (He holds up his hands to indicate the bar.) Ashland. (He points all around outside the bar.) A whole mess of everybody-else-lands. Put them all together: heaven. Right? At the center of it all? Is the Magic Kingdom. The Garden. Dean: So everybody gets a little slice of paradise. Ash: Pretty much. A few people share—special cases. What not. Dean: What do you mean ‘special’? Ash: Aw, you know. Like, uh, soul-mates. (Silence greets his statement. Dean and Sam don’t look at each other.) Anyway. Most people can’t leave their own private Idaho’s. Dean: But you ain’t most people. Ash: Nope. They ain’t got my skills.
There are a few important things said here. When the angels attacked them, Ash found Sam and Dean in their heaven, Winchesterland as Ash calls it, not Deanland or Samland, but combined. He then says that soulmates are unusual because they share a heaven. And then, in case there was any doubt, he specifically says that most people cannot leave their own heavens. Ash can because he has special, unusual, skills. So Dean couldn't have simply driven from his heaven to Sam's heaven because heaven doesn't work that way.
Like, this really isn't that complex. What they gave us was a basic equation where they explained the variables and left the answer understood but just not filled in.
Neither Sam nor Dean could leave their heaven on their own because they lacked the skills to do so, only soulmates share a heaven, but they were together and seeing the landmarks of heaven the same way. The only thing this equals is that Sam and Dean are soulmates.
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queenofmistresses · 6 hours
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Adam’s third wife
A/N hi guys! First hazbin hotel fic, I did a vote and many of you chose Adam x reader so here we go! Let me know what you think and I’ll be able to do a part 2!!
There was a knock on the hotel door and Charlie excitedly rushed to answer it- there had been more and more sinners coming to the hotel wanting to try redemption ever since the last extermination, and she was excited to meet the next one! The last thing she was expecting however was this, Adam (first man, original dick, remember him?) standing at the door looking like he hadn’t slept or eaten in a week. He probably hadn’t. He looks panicked, he looks scared.
“Charlie sweetie is everything okay? Do you need any-“ Lucifer walks over to the door where they’re standing and sees why Charlie isn’t excitedly touring the hotel, and his eyes begin to turn red, clearly angry.
“Please.” Adam says, out of breath and looking like a guinea pig standing in the middle of a busy road. “You have to help me find her.” He begs. Lucifers eyes widen and go back to their usual colour, and Charlie looks down at her dad in confusion.
“What makes you think I know where she is? And if I did, why in hell, would she want to see you?” Lucifer responds, the picture of composure now he knows why Adam is here.
“Please. I know she hates me. But she’s all I have left.” Charlie is still looking down at Lucifer confused, silently asking what is going on.
Lucifer rolls his eyes. “So once again she’s a last resort, I see. You didn’t deserve her then and you certainly don’t deserve her now.” Lucifer begins to shut the door before Adam presses his foot in the way.
“I know. I’ve regretted it all since she left but how can I fix it if I can’t even find her?” Lucifer still looks like his mind is made up but Charlie looks at Adam, at his sad and helpless face and can’t help but pity him.
“Dad help him, that’s what the hotel’s for, right? What if he can change?” Lucifer looks up at his daughter and sees how much hope is in her eyes, “If he’s come back as a sinner he’s one of our people now right?” She points out.
He looks over at Adam again who is looking just as pitiful as before. “Fine, you can come inside and I’ll help you.” Lucifer begins to open the door, “but if you try to hurt anyone in here, you’re out okay? This is your only chance.” Adam nods violently, swearing he won’t hurt anyone and walks in behind Lucifer and Charlie.
Lucifer tells him to stay in the lobby while he deals with ‘something’, leaving him in the hands of Charlie and every other person he saw at the extermination. Shit. “So who are you trying to find?” Charlie asks, grinning up at him as Vaggie walks over, wrapping her arm around Charlie’s waist protectively. At Charlie’s question she looks up at Adam, seeing his nervous face and smirks.
“Really? You think she’ll want to see you?” Charlie looks at her and her mouth drops, clearly hating the fact that 2 people know something she doesn’t.
“No. But I have to try right?” Adam mutters out, embarrassed.
“Vaggiee tell meee.” Charlie begs and Vaggie throws her a playful eye roll and smile.
“Adam’s on the hunt for his ex.” She says smugly, making Adams cheeks heat up. Charlie looks even more confused.
“Eve?” She asks, to which Vaggie shakes her head. “Well surely it’s not my mother, no one seems to know where she is, so my dad couldn’t help.” She thinks out loud. “He has another ex?”
Vaggie nods affectionately and god does Adam want to leave, he’s been alone too long to watch this. “They didn’t meet til he died, she’s heaven born, but she fell.”
Now he wants to leave even more, he can feel Vaggie glaring daggers into the side of his head, he can’t look at them, ashamed. “What happened?” Charlie asks softly, and Vaggie sighs sadly.
“That’s her story to tell, and his I suppose but he’d never admit what really happened. You should ask her when your dad speaks to her.”
Things feel awkward after that, everyone in the lobby had clearly heard the conversation and he felt ashamed. Mostly about what he had done all those years ago. He thought about it often, he thought about trying to find her in the exterminations but couldn’t bring himself to it. He didn’t want to see the pain on her face again. He couldn’t bear it.
Lucifer came back and walked over to them, and Adam looked at him with the smallest glimmer of hope. “I can take you to her. She might not want to see you, in fact I would say it’s more than likely she doesn’t but I can take you there.”
“Thank you.” Adam breaths, he can’t believe he’s thanking Lucifer, the devil. But if it means he can see her again, he would do almost anything.
Lucifer takes them to his castle, and Adam feels a pang in his chest at the idea that she’d stay with him, but he wasn’t surprised. They had been friends before he fell, so it was only natural that she went to him for help. Charlie seems confused about being her, which Adam thinks is extremely interesting but can’t bring himself to dwell on it when she was right on the other side of those doors.
They all walked into the empty looking place and Lucifer snapped his fingers turning the lights on, to a dull light, muttering at how ‘she’ doesn’t like it bright. Adam remembers that about her.
Lucifer calls out her name loudly, announcing he’s back. “Lucifer! Hi! I’ll be down in just a moment, what’s the surprise you texted about??” A voice yells back. Adam, Charlie and Vaggie all shoot Lucifer a look, why had he said he had a surprise?
“It’s down here, come and see!” He yelled back before muttering, “don’t get too excited…”
“What was that last bit?” She yelled again before she appeared at the top of the stairs. And then she froze, staring at Adam. “Well that’s a crap surprise.” She deadpans, making Vaggie and Lucifer have to stifle their laughter back. “I was expecting a new duck.” She raises an eyebrow towards Lucifer as she walks down the stairs.
“I didn’t say it was a good surprise.” Lucifer tries to save himself as y/n gives him a look telling him to shut up.
“You must be Charlie.” Y/n smiles walking up to her and shaking her hand. “Your dad talks about you a lot.” She whispers and winks at Charlie.
Y/n immediately draws away and pulls Vaggie into a tight hug. “It’s been too long,” she says as she pulls away, “though I have to say I was sad when I found out you’d been banished here too.”
Vaggie smiles softly, “It’s okay, I found something better then anything up there.” She indicates towards Charlie with a soft smile, making Charlie visibly melt. Y/n smiles in complete understanding and steps back as Charlie pulls Vaggie into a hug and clutches onto her.
Then she approaches Adam and her smile drops suddenly. “Hello Adam.” He looks shocked for a moment before remembering he’s being spoken to and stumbles over his words, bringing a hand to scratch the back of his neck.
“I- er, um, hi y/n.” He finally settles with, looking sheepish. “Ho- how are you?” He asks quietly. She raises an eyebrow at him.
“I’m fine. Clearly better than you.” She looks up and down is figure, and brings a hand up to his hair to take out a stray twig caught in the mess. Adam watches her every movement with complete awe, looking surprised she’s touching him. “Why are you here?”
“I don’t…” He starts, then seems to rethink. “I needed to see you.” She scoffs and looks away rolling her eyes.
“7 years later? You do remember why I’m here right?” He nods and averts his eyes again, looking at the floor.
“I’m sorry.” He says which leaves her stunned. Her eyes widen and she looks over at Lucifer as if to check she hadn’t imagined it to happen. “I didn’t mean for it to happen the way it did. I didn’t know Sera would-“ he sighs. “I made a mistake.”
“That’s an understatement.” To that Adam nods, not saying anything. “So what? You wanted to say hi? You’ve done that now.”
“I wanted to know you’re okay. I know you hate me and I deserve it but I’ve wanted to find you everytime I’ve been here since it happened, but I just couldn’t bring myself to. But, you’re okay?” She nods. “Good, I’ll um… I’ll go.”
He turns away, starting to walk away when she sighs, “Wait.” She says and he stops turning back towards her, looking confused. “You won’t survive out there, you look like you’ve been sleeping in the streets since you arrived. If it’s fine with Lucifer you can stay here tonight and I’ll find you someone to stay. Somewhere else. Away from me.”
“You’re sure?” He says, eyes wide with hope. She looks over at Lucifer who nods at her and she looks back at Adam and nods. “Thank you.” He smiles nervously.
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akimiko · 1 day
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I’ve gathered quotes from twk and qon of Jude being in love but pretending she wasn’t bc why not. let’s gooo.
“My body has acclimated (to poison), and now it craves what it should revile. An apt metaphor for other things.”
“(After the crossbow incident) I am shaking, I realize. The aftereffects of believing someone tried to assassinate Cardan, of realizing he could have died.”
“I wish I could think of a place he’d be safer.”
“I look into his eyes. His hand slides to my hip, as though he might pull me closer. For a dizzy, stupid moment, something seems to shimmer in the air between us.”
“I still feel the warm pressure of his fingers against my skin. Something is really wrong with me, to want what I hate, to want someone who despises me, even if he wants me, too. My only comfort is that he doesn’t know what I feel.”
“Our gazes meet, and there’s a shock of mutual understanding that our bodies are pressed too closely. […] I am aware of the warmth of his neck beneath my twined fingers, of the prickly brush of his hair and how I want to sink my hands into it. I inhale the scent of him—moss and oakwood and leather. I stare at his treacherous mouth and imagine it on me.”
“Then his mouth is against mine, and my lips part. I close my eyes against what I’m about to do. My fingers reach up to tangle in the black curls of his hair. He doesn’t kiss me as though he’s angry; his kiss is soft, yearning.”
“I’ve wanted this and feared it, and now that it’s happening, I don’t know how I will ever want anything else.”
“I hate you,” I say, the words coming out like a caress. I say it again, over and over. A litany. An enchantment. A ward against what I really feel.”
“I hate you,” I breathe into his mouth. “I hate you so much that sometimes I can't think of anything else.”
“I like him better than I’ve ever liked anyone and that of all the things he’s ever done to me, making me like him so much is by far the worst.”
“She loves him, I realize uncomfortably.
His fingers trace their way down her arm to the back of her wrist, and I remember vividly the feeling of those hands on me. Kiss me until I am sick of it, he said, and now he has most certainly gorged on my kisses. Now he is most certainly sick of them. I hate seeing him with Nicasia. I hate the thought of his touching her.”
“I wonder if I will ever be able to look at him again without remembering what it was like to touch him.”
“It occurs to me that maybe desire isn’t something overindulging helps. Maybe it is not unlike mithridatism; maybe I took a killing dose when I should have been poisoning myself slowly, one kiss at a time.”
“[…] All I want to do is walk into his arms. I want to drown my worries in his embrace. I want him to say something totally unlike himself, about things being okay.”
“The offhand implication that he’s not alone most nights bothers me, and I hate that it does.”
“I cannot look at him as he goes out. I am a coward. Maybe it’s the pain in my leg, maybe it’s worry over my brother, but a part of me wants to call after him, wants to apologize.”
“I hope Cardan misses me.”
“I wonder what would have happened if I’d admitted he wasn’t out of my system.”
“But when I think of the night he was shot at, the night he did coin tricks, I can’t help recalling him gazing up from my bed, intoxicated and disturbingly intoxicating.”
“I am unnerved to find myself here, in the new High King’s new bed—one I am still too human to lie in, beside someone who terrifies me the more I feel for him.”
“But there is also a weakness in me, because I dreamed of him kissing me for all my time in the Undersea, and now with his mouth on mine, I want to sink my nails into his back.”
“I don’t want to think of someone else standing beside Cardan in my place.”
“The very thought of being there (Elfhame), of seeing Cardan, speeds my heart. At least no one is privy to my thoughts. Stupid as they are, they remain my own.”
“I want another bite at the everapple, another chance at power, another shot at him.”
"He looks every inch the spy from the Court of Shadows, down to the sneaky smile pulling at a corner of his beautiful mouth."
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unlikelysaintdelele · 19 hours
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some interesting things i've noted during my ACOTAR reread Pt. 2
*SPOILER WARNING for those who haven’t completed the series*
I finished ACOTAR a few weeks ago but I haven't gotten the chance to transfer my notes until now. Once again, names have been color-coded!
Feyre couldn’t keep her mouth shut only around Rhys. It’s almost like her true self comes out around him.
Anytime Feyre calls on some strength, the image of Nesta comes to mind. She sees Nesta as strong and admires her for that.
A queen without a throne
Are tattooed bargains a night court specialty? I was listening through the graphic audio, as a reminder, so some things slip through.
Pearls in Nesta’s hair. It makes me think of the pearl jewelry Elain later receives from Lucien. I think pearl is meant to represent luxury, and it seems to complement their features.
Elain is the only one with their father’s eyes and I always found it interesting. How similar is Elain to her father? Her father favored her, but I think that’s only because Nesta was cold and Feyre was busy.
Warrior beast vs half-wild beast, Tamlin and Feyre bonding for being unrefined (Disney Beauty and the Beast reference?)
“Don’t ever disobey me again” is honestly not the vibe, Tictac.
I don’t like knowing Tamlin’s anger is on a tight leash with Feyre. He’s angry at her. It feels overprotective in such a suffocating way.
“There you are, I’ve been looking for you.” SOB
The most beautiful man she’s ever seen
Blue eyes so deep they were violet
They just stared at each other! As if in a daze! 
Night pressed in closer around him, smiling
Molded from the night itself, star-kissed night
I have a random “until dawn” note… idk
Cauldron boil me (double, double, toil and trouble… sorry, random silly thought)
Elain began learning to grow veggies! Reminder, the soil at the cottage was crap, it couldn't sustain the veggies. Elain could barely grow flowers. People keep forgetting that Feyre was their only access to nourishment because there was no other choice. Sweet Elain gets so much hate for not using her gardening skills to help, but it was set up so that she couldn't.
Nesta’s iron-will allowed her to resist glamour! I want more on Nesta’s strength. This is one of many reasons why I’ve been a Nesta stan since day one. I know she was cruel but we’re told why in book one. She wanted her father to do something, anything: be a father and care for them. I’m not saying it was any excuse to be cruel, but they were in a shitty situation and she showed her love for her family in other ways. Being willing to lay down her life for Elain? Going after Feyre even knowing it was risky? Asking to be taught to paint? She loves her sisters, she just shows it differently.
Heart of Stone was mentioned for a second time! hehe
Wyyyyyyyyrrrrmmmmmm. I’m a fan of giant worms (Dune, Star Wars). Fun fact about me: I went through a short phase where I just kept writing about worms.
Feyre deems Elain as stronger for being hopeful. She sees so much strength in her sisters and admires them for their differences.
Love Nesta! More Nesta love. She wondered what a woman might do with a fortune and a name. She wanted to travel! She wanted that independence! Pre-war Nesta hurts to experience. She’s opening up now that she’s safe socioeconomically and physically. It makes me wonder what else would have begun to heal if she got more of that peace and security.
Rhys: because I’m tired and lonely. The things he does and willingly puts himself through to protect his court and anyone else he can spare. Love his complexity.
(apparently there's a character limit for each block of text so here's a lil divider)
Honestly? I was vibing with the Tamlin romance, it was chill. The bite was nice. UNTIL Rhys appeared. Timtam just seems so stale in comparison. The chemistry is immediate between Rhys and Feyre, the tension is palpable. I’m still not over how Feyre chose Tampon over Lucien. why would I pick someone so clumsy with affection and who isn’t around nearly as much as the sassy redhead who bickers with me like an old friend? Rhys > Lucien > Tamlin is the order at the moment, and the order will stay until I have to consider the other boys (wait for me batboys).
Tamlin’s dad was Amarantha’s friend! They fought together in the war. Rhys’ father killed Tamlin’s, so Amarantha took Rhys in as a lover as punishment. Amarantha is so greedy honestly, and it's so gross. She wants Tamlin and Rhys but the only reason Tamlin hasn’t been forced like Rhys is that she wants to be chosen, she wants him to come to her willingly
Even in their last moments together, Rhys and Feyre are honest with each other. Honest in a way I've never seen her with Tamlin.
Very excited to begin ACOMAF, my fave book of the series.
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laylajeffany · 3 days
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Not an ask, but, I'm currently about 2/3 of the way through Chaos for the Fly, and it is truly one of the greatest things I've ever read. It has made me laugh, cry, and every emotion in between. I have spent the whole time learning alongside Wednesday to love and care for myself. You've expressed out loud feelings of my autism and anxiety that I never could before, I've never read panic attacks more accurately written, and simultaneously you've taught me how to begin coping with them. The way you so vividly separate the voices of different characters, the way you describe every emotion so perfectly that leaves me feeling like I'm right there in the moment. The depth that you add to all the canon characters without taking away from their original personalities, the way all of your OC's fit so perfectly into the story, every single one of them mattering, not a single line, character or scene is unnecessary. I long for family like Josie and Emi, but in a way, just reading about them makes me feel they're talking to and teaching ME. Somehow on top of all that you wrote one of the most beautiful and realistic slow burn romances, It never feels rushed, no intimate touch or comment feels out of place, and yet you're constantly hoping for more. Then, once they are finally together they continue to have a beautiful and ever evolving dynamic, which is where a lot of other authors fall short in my eyes. The way you show Wednesday's comfort level with every character not just Enid, combines with her autism and uniquely affects each individual dynamic shows such and intimate level of understanding, it's so incredibly impressive. I think you may have ruined season 2 for me when it does eventually come out, simply because even with Jenna Ortega as a producer, it could never be as good as what you've written. and so I thank you. Thank you for writing this beautiful, spiritual, mental, and emotional journey. I hope for nothing more than that you keep continuing this story beyond chaos for the fly because I don't think I'll ever be ready for your writing to be over.
Thank you so much for this!! Slow-burn on a realistic timeline, organic character development and a meaningful portrayal of emotional struggle in a hyper-fantastic setting are my passion. I’m glad it’s resonated with you! Writing OCs is always a gamble but people really seemed to resonate Josie and Emiliana for certain (as well as others but I hear about them the most). I’ve ruined S2 for myself, truthfully and if Gwendoline Christie really isn’t in it, I’m not sure if T. Martel and I will even be watching lmfao. (This entire fic started in a parking lot at the mall when she was lamenting about needing Larissa Weems to live and I mumbled, “I guess I could write something.” HAHAHAHAHAHA.)
The good news is that I’m still playing around in this universe, I’m almost 50k into chapter one of the sequel and I think that it might actually end up being longer than I anticipated originally (just like the other fic I’m working on goddamn it I did try to make new year’s resolutions about this but it seems like I’m breaking them). I don’t think anyone is going to be mad about it! 
Thanks for reading and for letting me know how it’s impacted you! Happy to have helped in some small way. 
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whimsy-biome · 17 hours
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“Hello!”
“Wha—“ Scar gasps, whirling. “Gem! You can’t startle a man like that ohmygosh.”
Gem smiles, bright and sharply happy; her joy decidedly red-tinged and hungry. She tempers it—the last bloodbath will come soon enough—and clasps her hand behind her back, skipping up to whisper distance.
“I have my band,” she tells him seriously. “Me and the Scotts.”
Scar nods back. “Yes—?” The wind held just enough strength to carry the scents of the flowers he wore, something sickly sweet that made her feel something like longing; she wonders what he would say, if she asked about them.
Gem gives herself a mental shake. Stay on target! “This will probably all end soon. And it’s been fun. And I was thinking,” she rocks back on her heels.
Scar’s head tilts, a curious flicker in his eyes. “I’ve been told that’s a dangerous pastime.”
“Ha!” Gem whacks his arm. “Maybe when you do it! Anyway—next time. Partners?”
She thinks he might be genuinely surprised, words being shaped in his mouth and changing faster than he can voice them. “I’m very good at killing. And you, mister,” Gem points an accusing finger, “are weirdly hard to kill!”
“You are the only person to think that. Ever.” Scar says, voice dry as a freaking desert.
“Who spent half a session trying to kill you, huh? Me. I have gained authority to speak about this subject.” And Gem had witnessed it first hand. Scar talked fast and ran faster. Backwards luck aside, he had his own methods of survival. The costs of it evident in the grey threading his hair and the flint use staining his fingers coal-dark. “So,” Gem sings, “what do you think?”
“Hm.” Scar taps a finger against his lips. “Will my animals get to stay at the base?”
Gem cocks an eyebrow. “Well, duh. Where else would they stay?”
Scar’s smile stretches wide. He bows his head slightly. “Miss Geminislay, I do believe we have a deal.”
“Awesome!” Gem claps, the sound rippling across the meadow. “Don’t let anyone else kill you ok? Those ten hearts are what you owe me for dropping me to red.”
“You love being red,” Scar laughs, “I think that means you owe me.”
Gem rolls her eyes. “See you tomorrow?”
“Please take it as a compliment when I say: hopefully not.”
“Correct answer.” Gem snaps off a final wave. “Don’t die till I kill ya!”
“We need to work on your incentives,” echoes against her back, and Gem laugh is a terrifying thing.
This was going to be so much fun.
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aylasrants · 1 day
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when i tell you i am counting the days for bridgerton season 3!!!
this season already means so much to me, i cannot lie that i was a little disappointed when i learned that benedict’s story was not gonna be s3 but POLIN OMG
i think this might be my favorite ship so far (i’ve only read till eloise’s book). i don’t usually like friends to lovers that much, anyone who knows me knows that i’m a sucker for enemies to lovers. but friends to lovers i’ve come to realize hold so much more tension and yearning.
there’s also the teenager side of me who’s sobbing at the idea of a plus size woman being a romantic lead. growing up i’ve never seen a woman who looks like me being desired, through books and movies we, fat girls, were always told that we will only ever be loved if we lost weight and looked a certain way. and that’s bullshit! i cannot wait to see Colin head over heels in love with Penelope so that the part of me that was always told i should change may heal a little. i see so much of myself in Penelope, a wallflower who only wants to shine, and i’m so excited to see her grow and finally show the ton the magnificent woman she is.
nicola and luke i cannot wait to see you shine!!!
ps: sorry if this doesn’t make any sense my brain is all messed up today, i’m exhausted and english isn’t my first language
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ok wait i need to hear more of your thoughts on peeta owning a bakery....
This is one of those rare times where I’m pretty sure this anon isn’t someone I know personally bc I’ve subjected anyone who will listen to my rant about the Peeta Bakery Headcanon. Anyway, you’re gonna regret asking this anon bc there are fucking Layers here.
I know this is probably a controversial take based on the number of fics where I’ve seen it, but I simply do not think that Peeta would open a commercial bakery after Mockingjay!! Like on a metatextual level, I don’t think it really fits with the point of the ending of the series. It actually sort of fascinates me that it’s just such a common headcanon because the ending of Mockingjay is exceedingly vague. I think that vagueness invites us, as readers, to imagine a better world post-revolution. A world where Katniss would feel confident that her children would be safe from injustice, where she’d feel confident that her children would never know want the way she did as a child. A just world. A kinder world. Can a capitalist society ever be just? Is a capitalist society where a disabled teenager has no other means to subsist himself (or feels like there’s no other way he can be a contributing member of his community) really the post-revolution world we dream of? Is that really the best we can imagine?
(This got so insanely long I’m adding a read more lmao)
I get that showing a better world is not always the point of post-mockingjay headcanons/fics. Like there are plenty of really great post-mockingjay fics I’ve seen where, yeah, part of the fic is that society like ISN’T all that different or all that much better. I’ve seen that really well done! Hell, I’ve written them myself! It’s easy to imagine how a lot of aspects of society would not get an overhaul, a lot of the same structural inequalities would continue to exist. One headcanon that really stuck with me (I can’t remember which fic it was from) was that Peeta sells basically mail order baked goods to people on the Capitol, sending them iced cakes and pastries by train, because there are still people who were “fans” of theirs during the Games. And idk this doesn’t actually have much to do with my point lol but I liked it because it’s kind of fucked up and like! Yeah! It makes sense! If he needed money that would be a good way to make it! War often makes people rich, often for horrible reasons, and often it’s people who already have capital in the first place.
Anyway, more about the hypothetical bakery because alright. I bring up the fact that “yeah society not being all that different post-revolution and still being an unjust capitalist hellscape” could be a reason why Peeta re-opens a bakery because that’s actually never the types of fics where I see the bakery headcanon. Fics where Peeta opens a bakery are usually trying to make the exact opposite point. Like. Things are getting better, now he can open a bakery! Look at how much better the world is now, plus he’s got a bakery! Peeta is healing, that’s why he can open a bakery now! And I am so, so sorry to inform everyone who’s never had the grave misfortune of owning a family business, but there is truly nothing further from the truth lmao. Like just putting aside the immense amount of emotional baggage that Peeta has about his family, running a small business is an insane amount of work in any context and being a baker especially is physically grueling and involves early hours (and long hours) that aren’t really the best fit with the multiple ways that Peeta is disabled now. (I could go into this more because I have a lot of thoughts. But I will spare you.). I also think it’s seen throughout the books that Peeta is someone who needs time to pursue creative outlets to process his feelings and someone who values leisure and values quality time with his loved ones. And having grown up in his family’s bakery, I think he’d understand the reality that running a bakery wouldn’t leave much space of those pursuits and wouldn’t leave much space for him to have the things that keep him healthy and stable. I think he’d know that the way he is now— after two Games and the war and unspeakable torture at the hands of a dictator—isn’t compatible with the lifestyle necessary for running a commercial bakery.
And tbh with that in mind, I don’t think he’d push himself to re-open a business (one that would be a constant reminder of his dead family and his complicated relationships with them that got no closure) that would require him to sacrifice his physical and emotional well-being. Like I think he might look into the possibility, I think he might even start trying to open a bakery out of a sense of obligation/duty, maybe harboring some idea that this is who he was supposed to be, who he would've been without the Games, or that it’s this last piece of his family that can live on, or that it’s this last connection to his family so he can’t let it die too. But ultimately, I think any attempt to open a bakery wouldn’t get very far. Maybe he'd start wading into the logistical nightmare that is small business ownership and realize it's not for him (because it's probably also true that as much as him and his brothers were involved in the business, there's almost certainly parts they weren't involved with and didn't see, i.e., filing taxes). Or maybe looking into opening a bakery— how triggering it is, the stress of it— causes a downward spiral. Maybe he hates how much he's worrying everyone by unraveling. Maybe having a breakdown from the stress of just trying to open a bakery makes him realize, yeah, maybe in another life he would have ran his family’s bakery but the way he is now just doesn’t work with running a bakery, not without great sacrifices he's not willing to make. I just can’t see a bakery coming to fruition.
I know a lot of fics include Peeta deciding to reopen a bakery as a big step in his healing or include him rebuilding a bakery as part of his healing process but honestly, I think the opposite would be more true: I think Peeta either trying/failing to open a bakery or ultimately deciding not to open a bakery would be hugely healing for him. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way he is now as a person, his new limitations but also his strengths. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way his life his now and accepting that he likes his life the way it is, that he’s satisfied with his life without needing to own a bakery. I think it would be an important part of him coming to terms with the loss of his family. I think he knows he can never have things back as they were and I don’t think he would try to recreate them, especially because his family’s legacy isn’t a business. I think he’s emotionally intelligent enough and self reflective enough to realize that what mattered to him about the bakery— taking care of others by feeding them, being integrated into his community and being actively involved in it, brightening people’s days with delightful things whether that’s beautiful cakes or hearty food or delicious treats— and the things he learned from his family through the bakery, are things that he can carry on in other meaningful ways.
(Do you regret sending this ask yet, anon? Because if not, you will soon. I’m not done yet. There’s more.)
I wasn’t really sure where to put this next part in what is rapidly becoming an essay because it sort of combines the points about like “what do we imagine a post-mockingjay society to look like” with the practical difficulties of starting this bakery but here’s another thing: do people really think that the Mellarks owned the land the bakery was on?? Like, sure, the merchants are the petit bourgeois of Twelve but I still don’t imagine they really own anything. In a society where houses are assigned to people upon marriage, where property ownership and capital are so closely interconnected with citizenship (as shown by the Plinths who, by having immense capital, are able to leave their District and become citizens of the Capitol) do people really think the Mellarks would be allowed to own the land their bakery is on?? I always imagined it sort of like a tenant farming situation: the Capitol gives them the raw materials for the bakery and in return the bakery give them some absurdly high portion of their profits, or the Capitol sells them a year’s supply of raw materials at a premium on credit and at the end of the year the Mellarks have to use the money they made with those materials to pay it back, except it’s never enough to turn a profit so they always have to buy next year’s materials on credit and the cycle continues.
We (understandably) get a really skewed view of the merchant class through Katniss’s perspective so I can see why people come to the conclusion that his family owned the property and, as the last surviving member, he would’ve inherited it. I’ve seen the inheritance thing in fics a lot or a hand wavey “well Twelve was decimated to no one owns anything anymore so it can be his” or even like an almost sort of reparations type situation where he’s entitled to the land as a surviving refugee of Twelve. But I don’t know. I guess I don’t think it fits with everything else we know about Panem that the Mellarks would’ve owned that land and I think the question of whether the government would’ve let him take ownership of the land post-revolution brings up a lot of issues about the structure of society post-Mockingjay that I find more interesting to explore in other ways, especially when, from an emotional perspective, 1) I find the idea of Peeta not opening a bakery more compelling and 2) I don’t think it really fits his character arc by the end of Mockingjay to reopen a bakery, as I went on about at length above lol.
On the flip side: literally who cares!! Do whatever you want!! Headcanon whatever you want!! I get why people go for the bakery!! It’s fun, it’s wholesome, it’s a built in bakery AU that isn’t even an AU. It doesn’t matter if it’s practical or realistic!! It doesn’t need to be practical or realistic!! It’s fanfic of a dystopian YA series!! My unfortunate affliction is that I grew up in a family that owned a restaurant and that I have multiple degrees in the social sciences so I can’t see the bakery without being like “What about the overheard? What about the start up costs? Who’s spending long nights balancing the books? Is Peeta covering shifts when an employee calls in sick? Is Peeta the sole person working there until the bakery is open long enough (often a year or more) to start turning a profit? How does that sleep schedule work with his nightmares? How does that work with Katniss’s nightmares? What happens when he has an episode and suddenly needs to take the day off before he has any employees? Does the bakery just remain closed for the day? Can the profit margins withstand regular unexpected closures? Can the supplies withstand regular unexpected closures?” And if the answer is “Elliott none of those things matter he’s not doing the bakery because he needs the money but because he wants to”, then my question is why does he want to? Does he not get the same sort of satisfaction out of feeding his loved ones? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would rather give away baked goods than sell them?? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would prefer to make cakes for people’s special occasions upon and then when they insist on paying him for it, he only lets them “pay for the ingredients” which actually cost significantly more than he says they did??
So yeah my point is that it’s a matter of personal taste! It doesn’t fit the way I see the series but that doesn’t mean it’s like wrong, I’m not an authority on Peeta lmao.
It’s also a matter of personal taste in the sense that I find the themes that most resonate with me at the end of Mockingjay (and the end of Peeta’s arc specifically) more interesting to explore in other ways. Grief, living with loss, relearning yourself, finding hope, figuring out your place in a dramatically different world when you don’t even know who you are anymore, healing, building a new life after such complete and total destruction of your old life— those are all things I find compelling about the end of Mockingjay but for me the bakery isn’t the most compelling way to explore them.
Not to say I find the concept of the bakery totally uninteresting. I have this fic about Johanna that I’ll probably never finish where the point sort of is that, yeah, her life really isn’t all that much better after the war. It’s been years at this point and she’s still miserable and she doesn’t know how to be a person but by the end she’s trying to figure it out. And towards the end, Peeta tells her that he’s spent years sort of passively, half-heartedly trying to figure out how to inherit the land his family’s bakery was on, only to find out it was never theirs in the first place. They’d been renting it the whole time and he’d never even known as a kid. So he sort of passively, half-heartedly went on another wild goose chase to find the owner and now, finally, after years of writing to various government agencies and being sent in circles and things being barely functional, he’s managed to track down the owner. Now it’s owned by the daughter of the man who owned it when he was a kid because the original owner (who was likely up to some sketchy war crime shit) died during the war and she inherited it (the irony…). He got in contact with her and asked how much it would take for her to sell it and she told him she’s not interested in selling but in light of the situation, in light of the fact that he’d have to build a new building in order to operate a bakery, that she’d cut him a deal— she’d only require 50% of the bakery’s profits as rent instead of the 80% his family used to pay. And of course Johanna is outraged, that’s not right, the owner shouldn’t be allowed to do that, they should do something about it, they should fight back. And Peeta is like. Not interested. He was actually sort of relieved that opening wasn’t very feasible. Getting the answer was a lightbulb moment where he saw that over the years of trying to look into this, he’s built a life that he likes— one where he’s stable, where his loved ones are stable, where he’s cared for and can care for others— and he doesn’t really want to change it drastically by opening a bakery anyway. He just needed an answer, one way or another, before he could get some closure and move on. (And the point of the conversation is Johanna is having her own lightbulb moment that it’s okay to move on, it’s okay to change, it’s not a betrayal of the people and things she’s lost but that’s not my point here!!).
But anyway. That’s obviously not about running the bakery— it’s about the choice to not run one.
Anyway!! Anyway… are you satisfied anon? Is this what you wanted?
Lastly, here is my most important qualm with the bakery headcanon: must Peeta be gainfully employed? Is it not enough for him to be Katniss’s boytoy? Can’t he just paint and garden and bake and hang out with his girlfriend all day? Is that really too much to ask?
#peeta mellark#thg#the hunger games#the hunger games meta#anyway wow this got so long and I literally read it through one (1) time so uhhh sorry if this makes no sense!!#as I was doing my one read through and realized that one of my other thoughts on this is that yeah I can much more easily see the#headcanon that peeta like sells baked goods (probably at cost with no profit) out of his kitchen because that’s much more flexible#and I think that would work a lot better with what like I guess I’d call his psychiatric disability post mockingjay#and how he’d certainly want to take care of Katniss too#like that sort of flexibility makes a lot more sense for him and it’s like. if he doesn’t bake for a few days or however long then it’s fin#it’s not a formal brick and mortar business#it’s just something he’s doing because it’s a way to be involved with people and a way to do something he’s passionate about#without there being waste and while covering some of the costs#and he doesn’t have to like keep books or do payroll or any of the things I can’t see him being very passionate about#as far as like bakery management goes Lmao he can just bake!!#but then I started getting into this whole thing about how that quote-unquote ‘running a business’ like that (informally from your house)#is actually a really common practice for people living in poverty so probably something that Katniss and peeta would’ve been familiar wirh#anyway and then this whole rant about how the emphasis on the brick and mortar bakery often goes hand in hand with#this widespread fandom thing of having a fundamental misunderstanding of how rural poverty works and what it looks like#but then I was too deep into it and said you know what? never mind! and deleted it lmao
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mekanikaltrifle · 2 days
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Equinox: Sick Dogs
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In which the vampire hunter meets with a friend, to explore his latest hunt; a death in a High Street shopfront gone unnoticed by the bustling public, and a forgotten stray afflicted with some unknown curse...
CHAPTER ONE
Fifteen nights. Fifteen nights, but thirteen days, I’ve been tracking this one bloodsucker.
I need a better job. This blows.
I throw the dictaphone onto my couch. Stupid piece of plastic-- probably should capitalise the ‘D’ in that, since it’s a brand name, or refer to it as its generic name but that’s the sort of shit I do not have the patience for these days. Or nights? Anyway, the thing is stupid, but it helps me keep my thoughts in order, and doesn’t need a ‘net connection to function unlike far too many things these days. Or nights.
So, the bloodsucker. I’ll get you up to speed with it, order of business and all that. Shop talk. The whole razzle dazzle, so to speak.
I know vampires well enough. Blood-drinking immortal bastards, move under cover of night, come with a bunch of weird abilities and superhuman traits. Most of ‘em look like monsters too, as far as I’ve seen. Bat-like ears, animal teeth, claws, grey skin, weird off smell, the whole kit and caboodle y’know? On the regular they’re also pretty low-key, so people like me don’t find them, and so that humans at large don’t know they’re around. Take it from me, it’s easier to hunt when nobody can see you, and nobody’s expecting you either.
Thing is, the low-key approach means it’s usually the fuck-ups that get spotted by monster hunters. The ones that kill are the ones that get caught, eventually. Being immortal doesn’t make you immune to consequences, nor are you above retaliation. Especially when the shit you’re doing with your immortality is killing folks who already have it rough, and you even take the chance to survive off of them? Fuck vampires, is all I can say in short.
So how did I find this job?
I started tracking this one from what looked like a failed hunt. Found a young man lying against a shopfront window with a chunk ripped out of his neck. He wasn’t conscious, but for a few minutes he was still alive, and after kicking in the glass door and setting off the alarm, I did what I could to staunch the blood. Tried to call the ambulance as well, but I have issues with phone lines. And speaking to people. Forgive me if I don’t go into that right now.
There were people nearby. It was right on the high street, for fuck’s sake. He shouldn’t have been ignored, but there were just people walking by like nothing was happening, as if I hadn’t just kicked a door out, loudly, and sprinted into a locked shop with the alarms blaring off. But the high street punters just kept right on going for their late in the day Christmas shopping as if I wasn’t holding a dying man in my arms. It was surreal. I’m no stranger to weirdness, but the worst part was that even after I hit 999 and dialled up help (however troublesome) the ambulance didn’t even come. I sat there waiting, even after there was nothing left to save, and nobody came to help. It was like he and I didn’t exist. I could hear the operator on the other end asking if there was anyone there, and I didn’t answer because I couldn’t, but eventually she barked something down the line and it went dead. Only when what I guess was the store’s manager came to check the alarms, did I get up and leave the dead young man to what would come next. Blended into the dark in the back of the shop and fucking legged it out the lorry bay before anyone could notice me. Easy enough, but that’s besides the point.
I kept thinking about how open and callous that was. And clumsy. Most vampires I’ve ever tracked from hunts either only manage to kill someone once or twice before we track them down… or are subtle enough to successfully hunt over the long term. They don’t take so much their victim dies. Back-alley muggings and late night cold calls, break-ins and nightclub pulls of dubious consent. That’s usually what vampires rely on. Only way they get through the nights, and since most are confined to the hours after sunset, it’s also far easier to prey on the people nobody thinks about after closing time.
But I was running, and thinking. I do my best thinking sitting down, but this work doesn’t come with breaks when there’s someone just off to the beyond.
The poor lad, he’d been wearing a shitty polyester work shirt, and had a sticking plaster over his finger. The shop itself is the sort of place that sells screws and work tools and power drills and stuff, nothing special. This was also probably why it was closed a bit earlier than the other shops; they are running their late-opening hours for Christmas shoppers, but who’s buying tools late on? I think he’d been cashing up for the end of day. I wonder if he’d had someone waiting for him at home? A mum or a dad, or a boyfriend? Or girlfriend, I suppose? He looked at most twenty-five, but probably a good bit younger than that. Maybe younger than me? Whoever he was, I didn’t find a name-badge and he was never conscious enough to say anything. He was round-faced and scruffy looking, and sort of boyish. Charming, I hoped. Not sure about personality but he died quietly. Something tells me that wasn’t fair on him.
I’d have already had a lot to think about if I didn’t bump into anything else that night.
I still had a lot of blood on my hands, and it was drying. Sometimes I forget to clean it up promptly; nobody was gonna see me and I’m only human, but this definitely got me attention I didn’t need.
So I turn into a back street behind the shopping arcade-- you’d know the one, used to lead onto the BHS before that apparently closed?-- and was greeted with the second ugly sight of the late-afternoon. As of right now I’m not entirely sure what the thing was, but it certainly wasn’t someone’s fluffy puppy lost on the street. It was four-legged, sure, but its coat was a ragged black mess with some sort of nasty stuff dripping off it. It had a head in the same place a dog should have, though its skull was the wrong shape, studded with these awful white embers for eyes and entirely bare in places, so I could see the bones under bits of scabby ligament. Only thing that didn’t look rotten were its teeth-- all of those were sturdy, sharp and very much in its head. It couldn’t snarl without much soft tissue on its face but it certainly managed to growl.
It noticed me before I saw it too clearly, which I’m going to put in the ‘rookie mistake’ category and be thankful I came out alive. The blood let me down, I’m sure. The thing moved strangely; one minute it was shuffling about unsteady on its feet, and then the next it lunged with a force completely impossible from its shambles of a body. I took the force through my left arm and shoulder- knew it’d bruise straight away- and twisted so it rolled off to the cobbles behind me. Two seconds at most to myself before it got its footing and leapt again, but I managed to duck so it went right over my head, though I caught a scabby paw to the back of my coat. Not the worst thing it’s been soaked in at least, but the weight of a whole dog-monster using me as a springboard wasn’t pleasant.
When it landed in front of me was when I got the good clear look at it like I mentioned a minute ago. Something like that couldn’t be allowed to walk out into the street and attack someone, I knew, but it didn’t look like it really knew it wasn’t meant to be here. Some monsters seem to know they’re wrong, that they shouldn’t be, and it makes them aggressive or devious or confrontational. They taunt you with their impossible natures and they want you to hunt them. Sort of a sick validation, maybe. But creatures like this? They don’t know what they are or why, nor what put them directly in the path of humans or hunters. I would have thought it was totally unintelligent until it looked me in the eye… and whined.
Don’t ask me how I could tell the little burning point of light it had instead of an eye was actively looking me in the eye back. Hopefully you don’t have to meet a monster face-on and work these things out yourself. This is why I tell you stories, no?
It didn’t know a fuckin’ thing, besides sadness. Couldn’t hate something like that, so I crouched down in front of it. The beast didn’t come nearer, but it didn’t attack me either. I think it’d been scared or hungry or something and that’s why it lunged at me? When I got down to its level and held my hand out, it didn’t snap or lunge again, but it did growl. Warning, I think. It reminded me of a neighbour’s upset ‘guard’ dog from my childhood. Before I moved back to England, I lived in a really shitty suburb of Paris, in an arrondissement you’ll never see on a tourist guide, and one of my neighbours had this awful dog. Not even sure what it was, but one night it must have gotten a visit from someone else’s pet and next thing we knew, one dog was six and the puppies were the saddest looking things I’d seen before or since. I remember asking mum or dad if we could try and get one of them, but mum hated dogs and dad was allergic, besides. Clearly didn’t trust me when I said I could look after it in my room, where they didn’t have to go near. Maybe I never forgot the look on their hairy mutt faces as they wandered about the yard at the back, digging pointless holes to nowhere and crying.
The scabby dog-monster went flat to the floor, which I think was fear or deferral or something. Submission? I didn’t want to scare it anymore, so I took my hand away from it and that seemed to do the trick. I was having trouble reading its body language without any ears or facial structures besides teeth, but a minute or so of sitting quietly and not moving too fast meant it calmed down a bit. Maybe its decaying body couldn’t keep up too long, and it did seem to be in pain. Again, not sure how I could tell for sure, but it lay down on the wet floor and whimpered, the poor thing. I think it was tired. Me too, I recall thinking.
It couldn’t close its eyes, but once it was quiet enough, I did my best to put it down with my handgun. It was over pretty fast. That’s the other thing with monsters you’ll never know ‘til you fight them... some just die so easily you wonder how they survived long enough to try to eat you.
I tried to put its body out of sight, because unlike vampires it wasn’t going to just start crumbling to bone and ash right away, and I didn’t want anyone finding it ‘til it wasn’t clear what it had been other than once a dog. Two pointless deaths in one afternoon. I wish I could have said that was a record, but thankfully it’s not every day that happens. Just maybe once every couple weeks.
So, I was now covered in fresh, drying human blood, as well as dirt and indistinguishable monster fluids. Great start to my evening. I ducked into a public bathroom to clean myself off as best I could, and I have never been more thankful for my weird abilities, because the way I looked was awful. I don’t think I smelled much better either. While I was standing there washing my hands, I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that I was walking into something- metaphorically, of course- and while I know that’s probably mental illness giving me these ‘tips’… I also have other senses.
I should tell you about them in better detail later, but for now, just believe me when I say I’m better attuned to weirdness and mortal danger than a regular out-of-the-box human being comes as standard. If nothing else, I’m here and explaining things to you that don’t sound real, but they’re more detailed than a random story I made up to scare you, right?
Well, next time I fight a particularly fragrant monster I’ll skip the shower before I come and see you, and then you’ll know what’s up. Maybe I’ll even bring some blood with me, to seal the deal.
Anyway, I watched the flakes of half-rehydrated blood wash down the sink as a guy pissed far too loudly in one of the urinals across the room and I could just feel this strange weight sinking over my skin, even under my clothes. It was like a pressure from the air sinking down on me, like swimming in shallow water right at the edge of a sea shelf… I could feel the depths below.
I’m not sure what it meant, but moments later I looked up into the mirror and I could see shapes in the negative, film negatives overlaid on the glass. Someone running through a hallway made of big heavy stones. Stumbling into the floor as beasts leapt from the dark- or the white, in this inverted scene- and they tore into the person’s legs and arms all violence and snarling. It looked old, far too old to have been filmed. Fantasy-like, it was that old. I didn’t want to watch another death straight away, so I looked away for a few minutes. The loud pisser thought to shake off his business but didn’t bother washing his hands. When I looked back at the mirror, it was frozen and waiting for me to keep watching.
Someone wanted me to see this, for some reason.
The scene ended as expected, with the poor soul being torn to pieces in a level of detail even I didn’t want to know about. In the end, it was just a body, being eaten by hounds. I’m not sure what it was meant to mean. Was it a threat? The mirror was just a mirror, a couple of blinks later and the pressure lifted a little off my skin. Not entirely, mind, but it didn’t feel actively pressing on me anymore. Why was I having to bear witness to this now, after all the other stuff I’d dealt with that day? Shit happening one-after-the-other isn’t news to me in the slightest, but I can still complain.
There was no doubt about it, there was probably a connection, but I have to say I couldn’t make some Holmesian deduction then and there. What I did do was go outside and sit on a concrete wall and think for a bit. Stare into the sky until the last of the light soaked away into the black and the stars presumably came out, deep behind the cover of grey-slate clouds. It being around Christmas, I think that probably put the time at somewhere around 4 or 5pm, but things that move under cover of night will take any night time cover regardless of how early it lands. Christmas doesn’t mean a thing to the supernatural, as far as I’m aware. Doesn’t really mean shit to me either, come to think of it. Nobody to spend it with, regardless, so why bother even if I was Christian inclined?
Oh, don’t give me that look.
So, I came to the conclusion that I was going to have to head back to my safehouse and clean up properly so I could document what was going on. Next steps in the plan were as follows: sleep, get dressed up a bit and then head to the couple clubs I’d found vamps in before to try and gather a bit more information. Oh, and eat probably. In whatever order made sense, and right now I’m fairly certain I ate before I went out but… not sure it matters at this point.
Strangest thing is that things have been pretty quiet since I had the three-for-one deal on vampire bullshit. Well, no, I tell a bit of a lie: there’s a couple of developments I made or came across in the two-ish weeks since that poor boy died, but I think I need to go and research a few things in my books before I tell you more about what happened next. I’d hardly be a good storyteller if I didn’t fill you in with the most accurate info I could, right?
I don’t think I’ll have made any progress on this all by tomorrow but do keep in touch, and I’ll ring you if anything weird comes up. You’re the only soul I’m trusting with all this, and really the only one that’d remember to come back anyway.
Have a quiet night, my friend.
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rubysparx · 2 months
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Um actually I have something more to say about Kabru and Mithrun’s similarities and relationship.
I think a lot abt how it’s shown a few times how elven culture relies heavily on non-natural ways of doing things, and it’s interesting especially how like our main cast repeats multiple times the three steps to living a long and healthy life. Meanwhile the canaries, the elves, don’t necessarily recognize that stuff as important as it is. I think specifically of the example of Mithrun explaining to Kabru that he has to have medication or a spell otherwise he can’t sleep, to which Kabru tucks him in and gives him a massage which knocks him out cold. His dependency on other methods to fight off insomnia were kinda just in his head, he hadn’t tried anything else. I mean prior to joining the canaries he was fully restrained 90% of the time so ofc a servant would just come in and place a spell for him to sleep every night. And he was like that for years. And then Cithis just replaced all his caretaker servants, then it became her job to make sure he took a pill or listened to her bells every night. I think there’s something there about how there’s a list of stuff Mithrun wasn’t allowed to be around and when he gets separated from the canaries he encounters all of that since Kabru doesn’t know to “protect” Mithrun or restrain him so severely. And it’s interesting because Mithrun doesn’t even seem to have issues with the things, like ofc top on the list was he wasn’t supposed to see goats or sheep. One of the first things he and Kabru eat is barometz. Its something to me that Kabru, who has also suffered so much, takes Mithrun into this dungeon and he has to face head on what’s been bothering him, he has to look his trauma in the eyes. And eat it. He cannot move on until he sees it, understands it, and finally starts talking about himself (“the last desire I had left wasn’t revenge, I wanted the demon to finish me off” “I was scraps left on the plate […] I guess vegetable scraps have their uses too”)
It just seems to me like a more vague and overarching way we see the elven cultural mindset hold him back from properly healing, I don’t think Kabru knew what he was doing at all but the fact of the matter is no one was filtering Mithrun’s view of the world anymore. And while Mithrun believed that didn’t matter to him, nothing mattered, it still made a difference. He was still on the path to moving on, and properly healing, even though he didn’t quite recognize that.
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lestelledreams · 2 months
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feeling. not great abt my birthday tomorrow :/
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