#are as horrifying as they are impractical

[kscribbs]

Miller's Law Snippets

Snip 1 💤

And so she stayed like that. One arm curled around his torso, face nestled into the narrow space between his shoulder blades. — A protective barrier, shielding him from the darkness of his own mind.

Whenever she sensed that he might be submitting to it again she’d move their conjoined hands to his chest/heart, trying to imbue as much warmth and comfort and… well, love, as possible. Willing his heart-rate to return to a normal rhythm. And she'd speak to him. Using the same soft, consoling timbre she reserved for anxious patients. It seemed to work, for he’d soon grow still again, drifting back into what she hoped were pleasant, happy dreams. Dreams of things and people and places he loved. The rose garden at Frost Manor. His favourite memories with Jacqueline and the Twins. Endless games of Elemental Ball…

He was fully-thawed now, but his fingers remained icy, frost creeping from his palms, across the counterpane, and after awhile Lucy’s own fingers began to ache and burn. But still, she didn’t let go. She stayed there for hours. Hours upon hours, watching dawn crack over the horizon like a robin's egg, spilling its golden light across the Canton de Bern. Watching the sky shift from pale blue to silver-grey and snow begin to drift down in large, fluffy flakes. Watching morning bleed into afternoon, and afternoon into evening, and night settle into all the room’s nooks and recesses like the ink in the creases of her palms.

Still, she didn’t let go.

Eventually the clouds cleared, and the sky stretched before her as a great, glittering vault. The silver river of the Milky Way was so much more vivid out here. She never saw this many stars in New York. 

And Jack stayed sleeping, snoring softly, stirring minimally, his hand tightening in hers, every so often, the odd murmur drifting from his lips. Sometimes they were unintelligible. Other times she could make out certain words. Names, more oft than not. His mother’s. Jacqueline’s. Even her own, on one occasion. 

She was overexerting herself, she knew. Using her powers to excess. He was going to be cross with her, when he did wake. Chide her, lecture her. But she hardly cared. She would make sure he got the rest he’d been so sorely deprived of if it killed her. 

How long had he been suffering like this? she asked herself, again and again. He’d said they came in cycles, but how long had they been this severe? And how bad of a doctor — a friend, moreover — was she, for not having uncovered the truth sooner?

After a full twenty-four hours she was forced to get up to use the washroom, as well as grab something to eat and drink, all of which she did as swiftly as possible, before returning to his side (his other side now, seeing as he was one of those people who tended to gravitate, catlike, towards the centre of the bed) with her laptop in tow. He had begun to look a little strained in her absence, so she carded her fingers through his hair, pressed a kiss to the groove between his brows. And that seemed to do the trick.

She put on Season One of Gilmore Girls, keeping the volume low, and settled in for another long shift. 

The room was well-lit and warm now, a fire crackling merrily in the hearth, and Lucy couldn’t help muse that, amidst all the grief and the horror — the gaping, cavernous knowledge of her own infirmity -- she felt… oddly at peace. Like they were living in a kind of vacuum, away from the rest of the world. A perfect, snow-capped bell jar.

It helped, she supposed, that Gstaad had a real fairytale feel to it. Like something out of a Hans Christian Andersen story.

Finally, around fifty-three hours after he’d first fallen asleep, and while she was almost-but-not-quite drifting off to Monty Python and The Holy Grail (a favourite of his), she felt a groggy chuckle reverberate against her left side, and glanced up to find him grinning at the screen. His hair was a complete mess, thanks to her ministrations; making him look a bit like a lion coming into its mane.

‘I love the Pythons,’ he said, huskily.

‘I know.’

‘Most people don’t know why they named it “Monty Python”. It was because they thought it sounded like a really bad theatrical agent. Did you know that?’

‘I didn't,' Lucy said fondly, angling the laptop more towards him. ‘Good Fact. I'll remember it for next time I see dad.'

He sat up a bit, rubbing his eyes with the hand that wasn’t connected to hers. A little colour rose in his face, when he took notice of the fact, but he didn't let go. Quite the contrary, actually -- he gave it a gentle squeeze, running his thumb over her knuckles.

‘Mmgh. Jeez. My joints are killing me. How long was I out for? Couple hours?’

'Uh... little more than that, actually.'

'How much more?' His fingers trailed over his chin, which was noticeably stubbled. He frowned. 'Wait a minute...'

__

Snip 2 📱

‘Christ, I know. She’d be beside herself. But there’s very little we can do right now to—’ Melusine was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing. ‘…Do you hear— ? …Who’s is that?’

Lucy’s, it transpired; recognisable by its bright pink, flowery case. It lay abandoned on the kitchen table, half buried beneath a tea towel. The contact flashing on the screen made Jack’s skin crawl with dislike. 

“Matt (Weird Sevens Guy)”.

‘Oh, he can bugger right off! The rotter,’ Melusine growled, tossing her empty bowl into the sink as if it had just declared itself a close associate of said "rotter"(...?). ‘That’s the LAST thing Luce needs right now. I can’t bleedin’ stand that man, Jack. Always sniffing around her, like a hyena.'

'Yeah, what's up with that? It's like, uh, hello? Get a hobby, maybe? ...Preferably one that involves heavy machinery and very lax safety regulations.'

'Too right. He's trouble, I swear. You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to answer, blow a raspberry down the phone and then hang up.’

‘W-- now, Melusine,’ Jack chided, yanking her back by the hem of her blouse. 

‘What? That’s funny!’

‘Funny, sure. But somehow I don’t think Lucy’d thank you for it.’

‘So? She’s not here to nag me about it, is she? And what’s more, she’s not the boss of me. Or you, I hasten to add. …Actually, scratch that.’ She smirked at him. ‘We both know that’s not true. You’d stand in the path of an oncoming train, if she asked you to. Oh wait—’

‘Yeah, yeah—’

‘--You did do that! What a lark.’

‘Hmno. No, no. SHE did that. Charged full tilt towards it, in fact. I just happened to be clinging to the back of her broomstick, at the time.’ Jack shook his head ruefully. ‘It was—’

‘Attractive?’

‘—terrifying.’

‘Terrifyingly attractive. Tell me I’m wrong.’

‘…The woman has a screw loose, is-is what I’m saying.' He cleared his throat. 'Stark raving bonkers, as you Brits would say. And here I’d been under the impression that she was the better adjusted, of the three of us.’

‘Oh come now, you always knew she had a reckless streak.’

‘A reckless streak, yeah. Mm-hm. Totally. The key word there being "streak". What I didn’t know was that she was the second coming of Knievel. Sectionable, by all accoun… what’re you doing…?’ 

Melusine now had Lucy’s phone in hand, and Jack was concerned to see her typing up what looked like a—

‘Virtual curse,’ she explained, casually. ‘Nothing too serious, of course. Won’t do him any real harm. Just turn a very specific part of his anatomy into an eel. Eheh. See what me makes of th— oi! Give it back!’

‘Are you serious right now?’

‘Look, I know you’ve developed a “conscience”, or whatever, since your thaw,’ she huffed, standing on her tiptoes to try to snatch the phone from his grasp (a difficult feat, given their difference in height). ‘And that’s lovely — bravo. Very happy for you. I, on the other hand, misplaced mine centuries ago and have yet to rediscover it. I suspect it’s buried at the bottom of a sock drawer somewhere, though I really can’t be arsed to look… I’ve therefore ze-ro scruples about giving our mutual nemesis the ol’ what-for.’

‘This has absolutely nothing to do with “conscience or whotever"; I couldn't give less of a shit about what happens to that guy. In fact it would give me no greater pleasure to watch him have to waddle his way to the DMI ward. I'd just rather not end up in Lucy's bad books, as a result. Things are going really well between us right now, if you hadn't noticed? And I'd prefer to keep it that w-- ...don't look at me like that.’

‘Oh, but it’s just so sweet.' Melusine simpered, clasping her hands together kittenishly. 'The Great and Powerful Jack Frost, all… twitterpatery. Never thought I’d see the day!’

‘I’m not— i-it’s not because I—' She raised a sculpted brow at him. 'Look, shut up, okay?! I just can’t afford to lose any more strikes! I only have the one left! And I really don’t wanna find out what happens when I reach naught.’

‘She’ll probably just make you do lines or something. I wouldn’t worry.’

‘Or, she might jinx me! Put me in a full body bind.’

‘Don't act like you wouldn't enjoy it.’ Melusine sent him an arch look, making him flush. ‘But fine. If you're that much of a jessie, I'll take the brunt of any potential Miller ire.’

‘Pfft. As if I’m going to trust that.’

‘It’s the truth!’

‘You’ll have to forgive me for being the slightest bit dubious, given… you know. Every single one of our interactions over the last two centuries.’

At her mulish look Jack sighed, realising that he was fighting a losing battle. Though he truly didn’t want to buy himself a one-way ticket to the dog house, he couldn’t deny that seeing what’shisname (Mason? Murray? ...Sketchy, overly-solicitous guy who didn't come anywhere close to deserving the object of his "affection"?) receive a good cursing was an attractive prospect. 

A very attractive prospect.

Hm. 

‘Y'know what...? Fine,’ he relented. ‘Whatever. You reap what you sow, Melville. Do as you please, just leave me out of it.’ 

‘What I’m sowing is chaos, and I have my fingers crossed for a bountiful harvest.’

‘…In that case, an electric eel would be far funnier. Just a thought.’

‘My, my!’ Melusine's brows did the milage to her hairline. ‘Two good ideas in under twenty-four hours. That must be some kind of record! Remind me to mark the occasion in the official "Jack Had an Idea" Excel spreadsheet.’

Jack was just about to respond with his own (far more cutting) witticism when a sleepy voice from the doorway said, ‘Why do you guys look like you’re scheming?’ 

The two of them jumped, turning to find Lucy standing over the threshold, looking charmingly dishevelled.

While Jack smiled dotingly, all other thoughts fleeing his mind at the sight of her, Melusine, startled by her appearance, grabbed the phone from his hand and lobbed it at the window, which shattered.

There was a moment of confused silence.

‘…Bollocks. Could’ve sworn that was open.’

__

Snip 3 ⏳

‘What’s the matter?’ 

And there it was, Lucy thought. The Look. The one that always made her feel like he could see under her skin. The familiarity of it, after all these years, was like a blow to the jugular.

‘N-Nothing, I--’ She drew in a shuddering breath. ‘I’m just... having a bit of a hard day, s’all.’

‘Why?’

‘…I… miss my friend. ...A lot. I haven’t seen him in a long time, you see. A very long time.’

‘Where is he?’ The boy cocked his head curiously, resembling a bird listening for earthworms. ‘Did he die?’

Kids. So forthright. 

‘No. No, honey, he didn’t die.’

‘Then why can’t you see him?’

Lucy’s lips twitched. 

Hiking up her skirts, she knelt down to his level, studying his narrow face. The same face she mapped out in her mind each night, before she went to sleep, so that she wouldn’t forget. Every line, every furrow. Every repressed spasm or overexertion of emotion.

Piece by piece, the memories settled around her. Like snowfall. -- A worried grimace as he sat at her bedside, holding her hand through what, at the time, had been her worst surge to date. A sleepy grin, as he watched Monty Python over her shoulder, while the world outside faded to white. Deep concentration pulling his features taught as he tinkered at his Steinway. The panicked, pleading look he'd sent her when she left him slaving over a hot stove with her mom and Nana, while she, Charlie and her dad retired to the basement to "assemble furniture" (drink beer and watch the Bears game). Countless looks of gentle reprove, mixed with grudging amusement, whenever she teased him about his eccentricities. The brief flashes of pride and adoration she'd grown increasingly better at catching, in the months preceding her "Jump".

The mingled shock and delight, that afternoon at the cottage, as the heady scent of magnolia drifted in through the window and the rain thundered on the roof. Arguably her favourite memory of him.

...The abject terror, as he lay writhing in pain--

No.

No, that one she would not think of. That one she made a concerted effort to bury, stifle. Locking it away, in the deepest, darkest recesses of her mind.

This face, though… this face was smooth and bright, filled with the earnestness of childhood. The lofty bone structure, the crooked nose, the dimpled cheeks. The blue, blue eyes. It was all him. And at the same time, it wasn’t. Not quite. Not yet. 

To look into his eyes after all this time and not have him recognise her, even a little bit...? Hurt more than Lucy would've ever thought possible.

‘It’s… it’s complicated, kiddo,’ she said, eventually. ‘Grown-up stuff, y’know?’

‘Well.’ He drew himself up to his full height, puffing out his chest importantly. ‘I don’t wanna brag or anythin’, but I happen to be very mature.’

‘Oh, is that so?’

‘Yep! My teacher said so. Said that I’m the most prec-- prero--'

'Precocious?'

'Reprocious boy in my class. And that's why I find it hard to make friends.'

'You do?' Lucy put a hand over her heart. 'Oh dear.'

His ears turned a little pink, as if he'd disclosed more than he'd intended to.

'N-Not that I care! Why should I? They're all dunderheads anyway. And I'm special. I'm gonna do Big Things when I leave school!'

‘Really now? Golly.'

‘Mm-hm! And then they'll ALL wanna be my friend. But by that point it'll be too late, 'cause I'll be rich and famous and everyone will know how great I am.'

It made so much sense, in hindsight. So much sense. All he'd ever wanted was to be accepted. Understood. Lauded for his intelligence, his studiousness, his unparalleled talents. To make the people he looked up to proud. He'd just gone about it in a totally roundabout way, steered off-course by his wicked old uncle. His deepest insecurities warped into something far more sinister than they would've been otherwise. At his core he was just a troubled little boy.

It would be so easy, the thought came to Lucy suddenly. So easy to simply scoop him up in her arms -- thaw him there and then. The curse wasn’t overly evident yet; not to the untrained eye, anyway. But it was there. Lurking just beneath the surface. His big blue eyes had a near-imperceptible chill to them. His face, though more flushed than that of his adult, frozen self, was nevertheless quite pale. He was a ticking time bomb.

If she diffused that bomb now none of it — none of the pain, the heartbreak, the guilt and the regret — would come to pass. He would have those years his present self mourned so dearly. He would have his family. His sister. 

He would be happy. 

And oh, how she wanted that for him. For all of them. The zany, ragtag family she'd grown to love so dearly over the years.

But she couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t. She’d been given strict instructions by Father Time. Though it went against her every instinct, she had to let things play out the way they were meant to. The way they already had, for her to be here in the first place.

'Annnnyway, point being: I think I can handle “complicated”. So if you need someone to talk to, I'm your guy.' He grinned at her, all dimples and charm, and Lucy’s heart swelled with affection. She found herself caught between laughter and tears. It seemed inconceivable that her love for him could continue to grow any more than it already had, and yet... in that moment, it did.

It might’ve been easier to believe him, on the "maturity" front, had he not been talking with a subtle, but nevertheless noticeable, lisp — most likely a result of his missing front teeth. To say nothing of the sizeable blob of jam in the corner of his mouth.

‘Even so, lil' man; I wouldn’t wanna bring you down,’ she said, with a gentle smile. ‘Plus, I… I don’t really feel like talking about it right now.’

‘Hm. That's understandable, I s'pose.’ He nodded seriously. ‘Welp. If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure he misses you too. Your friend.’

'You think?’ 

‘Sure! I mean... you seem like a nice person. I think I’d miss you, if I were him. Or he were me. Or whatever.' A little more colour rose in his face, and he glanced away bashfully, scuffing the ground with the toe of his shoe. 'I think... I think I'd be really glad to have a friend like you, actually.'

When he looked up again it was to find silent tears running down her face.

'Oh! Ah… was it… something I said?’

‘No, no, I just… that’s very s-sweet,’ Lucy warbled, dabbing her eyes with the sleeve of her cloak. ‘Thank you.’

In the next moment she found a familiar, embroidered foulard being thrust into her grip. She took it gratefully, letting it sit in her hands for several seconds. The silk was softer than she remembered it being.

‘This is l-lovely. Are you sure you don’t mind me using it?’

‘'Course not.' He waved her off. ‘My father says a gentleman always gives a crying lady his kerchief. It’s the chirivus-- chivrulus-- honourable thing to do.'

‘Oh and he's quite right. Your father’s governor, isn’t he? Governor Frost?'

'Ya-huh! That's the one.'

'He's a great man. I mi-- like him very much.’

‘Sometimes he takes me to work with him, and I get to boss people around. It’s really fun.’

‘Mm, I bet.’

[suzu-kun22]

Since Ed is literally (as far as I remember) the ONLY member of the military we see NOT wearing the uniform you have to wonder if he’s supposed to be wearing it like everyone else and Mustang just does not give enough of a fuck to try and make him

Or Mustang did try to make him and Ed threw SUCH a fit about it that Mustang fully gave up and decided to never mention it again for fear of the full on teenage temper tantrum that he would have on his hands

He does probably get special treatment for being 12 (when he joined) but I also wonder if even whatever authorities were above Mustang were a little horrified by the idea of a 12 year old running around in their military uniform, and didn’t bother trying to enforce it.

That, or they just didn’t care.

[giddlygoat]

last night while getting ready for bed i was paranoid af because i had stumbled upon a disturbing youtube short [i hate its algorithm and have been thoroughly reminded of this!] and not only did my shampoo bottle have the AUDACITY to randomly make a loud popping sound while i was brushing my teeth, but my lotion bottle also fell off the shelf and scared me again. i had to sleep with the lights on. it was rough

[mamamittens]

I love when the timeline just...

✨works✨

what fucking hell dimension are y’all blogging from

[godzexperiment]

silly little thoughts-

something about the angels in d.ominion really like 'i value my vibe over being practical' with their clothes sometimes *shhh i know costuming etc but i like to think it's an Choice* (there is no way having long cloaks,etc while flying isn't kinda hazardous/annoying as fuck) is *chefs kiss*

[angels-in-overcoats]

I think the most horrible part of batch 89 is how impractical they are. What possible purpose could you wish to achieve from surgically grafting wheels to a walrus or implanting a steel muzzle into a rabbits face? It's just pure sadism. Cruelty for the sake of cruelty. And it's horrifying.

[raynewolferune]

Battle of the Not It

Just me pushing my personal agenda that the Battle for the Cowl makes no freaking sense once again.

I want to see the Battle of the Not It, Nose Goes, Worst out of 126+ Rounds of Rock Paper Siscors Takes It, etc. Basically, the Batfam throwing down in Bruce's absence to Not Be The One Who Inherits (TM). No one wants dear dad's emo fursona but they all agree someone has to take it. The resulting Loser Gets Batmanned sibling war throws Gotham into chaos, Oracle's keeping score of everything, the one with the lowest score at the end of every week is stuck with Batman Duty the following week.

Damian hates loosing his swords everytime he gets stuck doing Batman. Tim can't stand losing his tech. Jason misses his guns. Cass hates having to talk on can't use words days. Staphanie hates doing the voice. Dick can't tolerate being unable to smile. Duke needs his freaking sleep. The list goes on because they've all agreed they hate to embody Bruce's Batman, no one can put their own flare on it (Gun!Batman will not happen on their watch and they won't risk any other equally horrible variation either.) The resulting sibling war takes place 24/7 in the masks and the criminals and citizens of Gotham are as awed as they are horrified by it.

The strangest alliances form and disolve week to week. Dick cheats whenever he gets close to loosing and dips out because "Bludhaven needs him." Cass flits off to China on a last minute mission when too many of her siblings start forming up an alliance against her. Steph breaks her leg (she says it's an accident but Tim has very vocal doubts about that). Tim, Duke, and Damien start teaming up against Jason frequently and Red Hood gets stuck doing Batman practically every other week. Other weeks, Jason picks one of them as Robin for his Batman week (rotating between them as revenge) and forces a temporary alliance to make another of them Batman for the next week. Alfred encourages the four's little rivalry and manages to finagle them into all staying in the manor full time with him.

Just Batfam bonding shenanigans over how much they all Do Not want to be Batman.

And when Bruce comes back Babs naturally has a highlight reel waiting for him. Some of the gems include: Steph in a cast with crutches say "oh no, I broke my leg, however will I be Batman now" in the most deadpan voice. Dick 'answering' an obviously turned off cell phone pretending it's an emergency calling him back to Bludhaven. Cass saluting the security camera as she leaves with a full duffle bag in the dead of night. Jason in the Batsuit, minus cowl, storming into the kitchen shouting "you little shits are conspiring against me!" As Tim, Duke, and Damien are crowded around the island with a bunch of documents clearing planning something. A heated game of Rock Paper Scissors between Dick, Jason, and Tim with the rest of the batkids watching (having already won their freedom from the cowl for the following week). Duke wearing the cowl and asking Oracle repeatedly over coms if it's time for bed yet. Damien throwing a full on tantrum trying to get out of wearing the physical cowl "it's unnecessary and impractical!"

Oracle sends him the reel a day after his return during the standard Justice League team meeting, helpfully projecting it so everyone can see. The reels starts with an argument in the Bat Cave between all of Batman's (previously unknown to the Justice League) children:

"Well, Dickhead, I guess this means you're it now." The clip starts with a red helmeted man speaking.

"The fuck?" Nightwing asks on screen.

"You're Batman now." The teenager with yellow bandoliers replies from where he sits in front of an enormous computer. A girl in purple and another in black both nod. (At this point, it begins to dawn on members of the Justice League that this is footage from the fabled Bat Cave they're seeing.)

"Oh, fuck that!" Nightwing answers. "Not it!" He shouts. The boy with the bandoliers jolts and then says seemingly reflexively.

"Nose goes!" Bandolier boy calls out hand shooting up and touching his nose as he speaks. Both girls and Nightwing react immediately following suit. A smaller boy with a sword copies them a half second later. The red helmeted man sputters.

"Wha-that-NO! NO NO NO NO NO! I am not the one! Fuck no!"

"You snooze you loose, Bro." Nightwings tells him.

There's a pause, red helmet starts laughing, pulls the helmet off slowly to reveal a red domino underneath, and lazily touches his nose with a sharp grin.

"You're right, Bro." He says teasingly. "And Signal's still sleeping." A short pause and then all the people on screen are laughing.

"Oh," bandoliers gasps out between giggles. "He is gonna be so pissed in the morning."

[cassolotl]

UK government planning to scrap a major disability benefit

I'm only just scraping by and the government are proposing to take away PIP (a disability benefit), which would be HALF of my income wiped out.

"Reforms to personal independence payments (PIP) could include stopping regular cash payments, and instead offering claimants one-off grants for things like home adaptations." -- "Disabled people face end to monthly benefits cash", BBC News, 29 April 2024

And:

"The plans, which will be consulted on over the coming months, also include proposals to “move away from a fixed cash benefit system”, meaning people with some conditions will no longer receive regular payments, but instead access to treatment if their condition does not involve extra costs." -- "People with depression or anxiety could lose sickness benefits, says UK minister", Guardian, 29 April 2024

That's what the NHS is supposed to be doing...

Genuinely absolutely terrifying.

Can anyone living in the UK join in with an (hopefully!) overwhelming cascade of unique emails to their MP opposing this? WriteToThem.com makes it very quick and easy.

They're proposing to replace it with one-off grants that the individual can apply for, which is absurd and horrifying, so feel free to point out how that won't work as well!

Here's what I'm writing, and do not just copy-paste my letter/email, because that makes it less legit. Do your own thing, even just one sentence telling your MP that you're opposed is enough if that's all you can manage. Whatever you want to say is what your MP needs to hear.

Dear [MP's name], Today I learned that the government plan to scrap PIP, and maybe replace it with something like a one-off grant application process, before the next election. ("Disabled people face end to monthly benefits cash", BBC News, 29 April 2024: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cn0ry09d50wo) PIP is about half of my income (about 44%). I don't spend it on occasional large purchases, I spend it on countless things that are more expensive for me than they are for other people. PIP is in place to acknowledge, as it says in the above article, that disabled people's lives are more expensive than non-disabled people's lives by hundreds of pounds per week. ("Previous research from Scope suggests households with at least one disabled adult or child face an estimated average extra cost of £975 a month to have the same standard of living as non-disabled households." That's £225 per week, and the maximum amount of PIP you can get is £184.) So firstly, it could be argued that PIP doesn't even cover the additional expenses of the average disabled household. And next, the cost of implementing an alternative system would be worse for disabled people, totally unsuited to its purpose, and more expensive to run. Worse for disabled people: Currently PIP acknowledges that being disabled takes a lot more work to maintain a comparable standard of living, and as it's an amount of work that the claimant cannot sustainably do, they are given money so that they can pay someone else to do it. These costs are distributed across all living expenses, in addition to occasional one-off purchases of e.g. mobility aids. Having to apply for one-off payments for expenses would be more work on top of that, so if the disabled person isn't able to do it (which is very likely) they will either have to work less in their day jobs in order to spend more time applying for one-off grants, or they will have to also apply for one-off payments to pay someone to apply for more one-off payments. This is self-evidently a waste of energy and time, and totally impractical, as well as being counter to the entire point of disability benefits. It would also be extremely undignified for the disabled people, and arguably against human rights (right to private life and dignity), to have to justify each purchase to the government. Totally unsuited to its purpose: One off-grants are not suited to ongoing higher expenses such as having to buy more prepared food (e.g. carrot batons are more expensive than raw carrots and go off much more quickly). Does this policy assume that disabled people's PIP is only for things like wheelchairs and walking sticks? More expensive to run: The system for PIP applications is already fairly backlogged, in that my last application took over 6 months to complete. I was awarded PIP for 10 years. If every application for a one-off grant had to be accompanied by an application of a similar scale that wouldn't be workable, so presumably an initial PIP application like the current system's would still be required to qualify for the system in the first place, and then following that, numerous smaller applications for money (e.g. for taxis, pre-chopped veg, painkillers, specialist clothing, etc.) would be carried out per person per month. The disability benefits system would have to be scaled up significantly, and it would be much more expensive. It is far cheaper to give people a set amount of money based on their needs; it's the same money that you would be giving them in grants anyway, but without having to process each purchase/one-off application. I implore you to oppose this proposal. It is blatantly unworkable to the level of absurdity, but more importantly it is inhumane. I look forward to your reply detailing your stance. Many thanks in advance. Yours sincerely, [My name]

But, again, if you can't manage anything long or complicated like that, your best is good enough. Even if they're not all perfectly written and detailed, we want to bowl them over with sheer quantity of emails.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

just a few more "troublesome" words

fable, parable, allegory, myth

Fables and parables - stories intended to have instructional value.

They differ in that parables are always concerned with religious or ethical themes, while

fables are usually concerned with more practical considerations (and frequently have animals as the characters).

Allegory - an extended metaphor—that is, a narrative in which the principal characters represent things that are not explicitly stated.

Orwell’s Animal Farm is an allegory.

Myths - originally were stories designed to explain some belief or phenomenon, usually the exploits of superhuman beings.

Today, the word can signify any popular misconception or invented story.

florescent, fluorescent

Florescent - in flower

Fluorescent - radiating light

forbear, forebear

Forbear - (verb) to cease or refrain from

Forebear - (noun) ancestor

forceful, forcible, forced

Forcible - indicates the use of brute force (“forcible entry”).

Forceful - suggests a potential for force (“forceful argument,” “forceful personality”).

Forced - can be used for forcible (as in “forced entry”)

but more often is reserved for actions that are involuntary (“forced march”)

or that occur under strain (“forced laughter,” “forced landing”).

forego, forgo

Commonly confused, as here:

“The independents must destroy all documents obtained during the case and agree to forego any further litigation against the chains for three years” (International Herald Tribune).

Forego - means to go before, to precede.

To do without is to forgo.

former, latter

Former - properly used, should refer only to the 1st of 2 things

Latter - refers to the 2nd of 2 things

Both words, since they require the reader to hark back to an earlier reference, should be used sparingly and only when what they refer to is immediately evident.

fusion, fission

Both describe ways of producing nuclear energy:

Fusion - by fusing 2 light nuclei into a single, heavier nucleus

Fission - by splitting the nucleus of an atom

gabardine, gaberdine

Gabardine - a type of worsted cloth

Gaberdine - a long cloak

grisly, gristly, grizzly

Grisly - horrifying or gruesome

Gristly - applies to meat that is full of gristle

Grizzly - gray, especially gray-haired, and is a cliché when applied to old men

hanged

”It was disclosed that a young white official had been found hanged to death in his cell” (New York Times).

“Hanged to death” is a tautology.

So too, for that matter, are “starved to death” and “strangled to death.”

The writer was correct, however, in saying that the official had been found hanged and not hung.

People are hanged;

pictures and the like are hung.

harangue, tirade

A tirade - is always abusive and can be directed at one person or at several.

A harangue - need not be vituperative but may merely be prolonged and tedious.

It does, however, require at least two listeners.

One person cannot, properly speaking, harangue another.

heir apparent, heir presumptive

Heir apparent - inherits no matter what

Heir presumptive - inherits only if a nearer relation is not born first

impractical, impracticable, unpractical

If a thing could be done but isn’t worth doing, it is impractical or unpractical (the words mean the same).

If it can’t be done at all, it’s impracticable (the word means “incapable of being put into practice”).

in, into, in to

Generally, in indicates a fixed position (“she was in the house”)

while into indicates movement toward a fixed position (“she went into the house”).

There are, however, many exceptions (e.g., “she put the money in her pocket”).

As so often with idiom, there is no describable pattern to these exceptions; it is just the way it is.

Whether to write into as one word or two also sometimes causes problems.

The simple rule is that in to is correct when in is an adverb.

The distinction can perhaps best be seen in paired examples:

“He turned himself into [one word] an accomplished artist” but

“The criminal turned himself in to [two words] the police.”

Source ⚜ On Grammar & Vocabulary ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers

[ceiling-karasu]

I think reading a few stories from the classmates' perspective would be a really good idea to help set the tone of the story or fill out the AU! I would love to see things from everyone else's perspectives as well.

Which means I should probably write something from Nayeon and Tokgasi's perspectives on how they see Jollin, because I think I have the same problem of just one perspective. Still better than the dark and depressing atmosphere of Lily Bell, though, even despite the attempts at humor.

Also, off the top of my head, I don't remember if you mentioned this, but where do they all stay? If the hedgehog kids are going to a school, and it is acknowledged that they will be funneled straight into conscription, then would they live with families (or whatever small shed/apartment Dalnim is allowed to stay in. You seem to be drawing him ‘clean’ so to speak, so he is able to follow some grooming habits if he isn’t bathing in the school sink? If he wa dirty I think you would show that) or would it make sense for them to start living in dorms/barracks on the school campus after a certain age?

Which is just something I've been thinking about for my own AUs with hedgehogs. With one AU I have them living with families until conscription, but another I'm thinking the kids can live in dorms/barracks after a certain age beforehand. The tone is bleaker in the latter but there's a later reason for that.

And what are they all eating and in what amounts? Although that might be getting too detailed lol.

I think I can remake the drafts if I can find graph paper again. I think half the issue is I think I need to work on layers more, because I think that could help me figure out the basement cellar, main floor, and attic in proportion to each other. Or I could just do it separately. Either way, I have a few dozen house layout schematics saved that i found online for reference.

Also, turns out villas don't have to be exactly proportional anyway. I was worried about the outhouse style bathroom being at the end of a random hallway, but it turns out villas specifically can just be like that, all sprawled out. I just have to make the furrows connect to the kitchen properly. Not sure if I should include the secret passageways and furrows in the schematics, though.

I'm sorry to hear about your grandfather's passing! I did not really know mine either, sadly enough.

I haven't fully fleshed out the reason the grandfather hasn't brought up Jollin being a scout to Nayeon yet. I'm thinking that no one wants to break her heart (not in the romantic sense) by telling her that the new neighbor squirrel is really an enemy scout, because she gives off a pure air of innocence that is no longer widely found among youngsters her age in Flower Hill, and no one wants to lose that. If she finds out that Jollin is the enemy, she might snap into a more serious mode and start distrusting everyone.

The reason might be more that if she doesn't know, then Jollin might see her as not a threat and let his guard down, and then she tells things to her grandfather. So yeah, the whole, keeping an eye on him thing, but perhaps in a roundabout way.

Especially since Nayeon essentially means 'Cute Bunny' in some Korean slang, but elegant/beautiful destiny in other ideas, and it is really a good descriptor name for her. I think I kind of gave up on trying Hangul for her name, since everything about how dormice are named has French origins anyway (barring Romans thinking of them as a delicacy). Although I worry that 'cute bunny' actually comes from Korean idols named Nayeon that fans claim look like bunnies.

Something I did while I was waiting for class.

I don’t know if she would be a new character of mine. But if she was, she would be working as an archivist or doing something based around culture. Idk. She isn’t a character I would place in OFP since she wouldn’t be a solider. She would have been exempted.

The quality came out a bit wonky

[estcaligo]

Twisted Thoughts: Silver’s Unique Magic

One might think that Silver’s UM is weak or even useless, primarily because what we traditionally consider "strong" is often associated with physical damage.

However, many would agree that strength isn’t about the tools or abilities you possess but how you use them. Any tool can become a deadly weapon. Any knowledge or skill can make you dangerous and powerful. The real question is whether you can realize the full potential of your "weapon".

The best example would be Jade. And I think it’s been discussed a lot how cleverly he utilizes his ridiculously impractical UM. But let’s get back to Silver.

Won’t delve too deeply into descriptions. Basically, Silver’s UM is dreamwalking - visiting dreams of other people (and animals, perhaps??). That’s it. That’s the UM.

It can’t be used in a battle, it can’t defend, it can’t harm, unless…?

Mind control

Driving someone to madness. Pushing them toward dangerous extremes. Haunting their dreams every night. Filling their sleep with nightmares. Making them regret waking up or fear falling asleep. Exhausting them to the point where they know no rest, until they can’t distinguish dreams from reality. Breaking their mind.

Physical harm isn’t always the most dangerous thing. Mental torture can be far more excruciating.

We’re lucky that Silver is a good boy. Having someone invade your subconscious with malicious intent could lead to truly horrifying consequences.

P. S.

Naturally, I cannot help but mention The Inception - the film I had in mind writing this. So, some quotes from there:

“In the dream state, your conscious defenses are lowered, and it makes your thoughts vulnerable to theft.”

“What is the most resilient parasite? Bacteria? A virus? An intestinal worm? An idea. Resilient, highly contagious. Once an idea has taken hold of the brain it’s almost impossible to eradicate. An idea that is fully formed—fully understood—that sticks; right in there somewhere.”

*won’t mention Jung or Freud or it'll be at least 10 pages

[spaceorphan18]

Twenty-Four Moments (Illustrated Version)

A/N: The first fic I wrote for Bridgerton. I was reading through again, and thought it'd be fun with some visuals.

You can find the original fic :: Here on Ao3

*****

I.

The warm light of evening stemmed through her window. Her bedroom remained still and quiet. For a moment, time felt frozen, as if the entire world was on pause, holding its breath in anticipation for that evening.

Penelope glanced up from her desk, taking a long moment to observe herself in the mirror.

Did she even recognize herself anymore?

The new clothes, the style of hair, the make-up on her face, couldn’t cover the fact that in her heart, she remained that Featherington girl. That poor Featherington girl whose dreams, whose ambitions, whose life was always deemed too impractical.

It did not matter anymore. In twenty-four hours, she would be engaged. She would be the next Lady Debling. She would have all that she could realistically ever ask for. She would retain her privacy. She could keep writing at her leisure. She would have house and home and possibly even children.

And yet….

Penelope’s heart sank as she tore her eyes away from the mirror.

Lady Penelope Debling. An esteemed name. An honorable name. She hated the sound of it.

--

II.

Her sisters once again squawked about babies. The subject was always on the tip of the tongue in the Featherington household, and the entire carriage ride to the ball, it was the only topic of conversation. It was as insufferable as it was horrifying contemplating them as mothers.

Penelope stared out the window, her anxiousness overcoming any desire to bite back at their stupidity.

Her mother placed an unusually soft hand over her arm and leaned in towards her ear. “You’re so lucky that Lord Debling is so dashing, Penelope. I fear what your children might look like had he been any lesser.” She let out a satisfied laugh as she patted Penelope’s arm.

The knot in Penelope’s stomach tightened.

--

III.

She could not escape her mother’s clutches. Could not hope for a moment for herself. There was no safety along the wall she so often felt comfortable against.

Still, the haunting performance allowed her a moment to glance over the room.

Violet Bridgerton stood on the balcony; radiating out the warm, motherly quality her own mother lacked.

Benedict Bridgerton was in the far corner, snickering and giggling as he downed a drink with a lady hung on his arm.

Francesca Bridgerton stood composed and calm, leaning slightly on her side towards Lord Kilmartin.

Eloise… Well, she wouldn’t dare think of Eloise; even if she knew Eloise was an arms length behind her, too busy confounding her with her friendship with Cressida Cowper.

She scanned the crowd as she always did -- yet no familiar eyes lit up in her direction…

Of course he wasn’t there. She did not know what kept Colin away that night. But of course he would be absent when she met her inevitable fate.

--

IV.

The thing about Lord Debling was that he was secure in his dance. He held her properly, confidently, and comfortably. He was noble in stature, yet gentle in approach. His smile was pleasing and his eyes kind. A perfect gentleman. A good match.

He guided her around the dance floor with ease; even after she began to stumble. Even after her resolve began to break. Even after she could no longer truly meet in him the eye.

Her life was about to be full. And yet her chest felt hollow.

--

V.

There were a lot of emotions she had felt for Colin Bridgerton over the years.

Anger was new.

How was it that he continued to find new ways to break her heart?

VI.

“I did not ask if it was a possibility, I asked if you’d like it to be.”

Words, sentences, thoughts, ideas, things she was so good expressing once again stalled in her chest. If only she could get out the correct answer. Yet, her body betrayed her. Her ever aching heart betrayed her. The feeling deep in her soul that knew the shackles of that unrequited love would forever weigh her down reflected on her face. She deflated in resignation.

If there was any silver lining to the humiliation - it was the fact that at least she no longer needed to keep up the facade. The only way Lord Debling could have been a reality was if she hardened her heart.

Maybe this was the push her heart needed.

--

VII.

She didn’t make it to the carriage before breaking down.

The ironic thing, she thought as the door closed, fully allowing her to sob privately, was that even though she would be forced to write about her foolishness yet again, at least she still had Lady Whistledown.

At least she still had an escape. At least she could still create her own refuge and retreat back into the shadows where she belonged.

--

VIII.

She had, perhaps, looked into Colin’s eyes a thousand times before. She had seen his kindness, his humility, his empathy. She had seen laughter, she had seen sympathy, she had even dared to see fondness. She had seen sadness and boredom and distraction and irritation. She had seen his protectiveness and, on occasion, even his passion. And on one particular afternoon long ago an amusing sort of humiliation.

Colin’s eyes were comforting and familiar, in the way one grows fond of looking into the depths of the ocean after a storm has passed and feels safe and calm.

But in his eyes tonight? There were things she had never seen before.

Hunger, desire, longing, lust… love?

It was as if she saw herself reflected in his eyes, and it shook her to her core.

Her own eyes fluttered shut. She was done looking. She wanted more.

--

IX.

Her body felt aflame.

She felt him everywhere; his breath hot on her skin, his mouth hungry at her breast, his hand stroking fervently in places she never dreamed would feel so good. They were connected in the most intimate of ways and yet even that didn’t feel enough. She wanted to melt into him, like snow on spring grass.

It was all overwhelming, all too much, and yet her body ached for more.

She pulled him closer, nudging his cheek so that their lips could meet once again. A groan escaped into his mouth as their tongues met.

She wanted nothing more than to stay in that moment forever.

--

X.

The carriage may have stopped, but her world continued to spin.

There was a burst of laughter between the two of them and even with the tangle of emotions, she felt grounded again. He was still her Colin. She would always be his Pen. He was still her dearest friend.

And yet now, as he tenderly put her back together again, something more.

With a soft, mischievous look, he was out of the carriage, his hand held high - waiting for her. She didn’t know what it meant, but she would follow him to the ends of the Earth if he asked. But what came out of his mouth next was something in a thousand years she would have never expected.

“For god’s sake Penelope Featherington, are you going to marry me or not?”

--

XI.

Walking into Bridgerton house felt like a hazy dream. She felt as though she were floating, as if at any moment, she would wake up, and be in her own bed.

Colin’s hand felt solid and firm in her own, the only tether to reality.

She walked into the drawing room, terrified. This house was once the home she wished had been her own. And now she would officially be a part of it. It did not feel real.

She didn’t fully hear Colin’s announcement, nor Francesca’s kind words. She could barely register Hyacinth’s embrace. But it was Lady Violet that did her in. Her acceptance meant more than the world. She was finally home.

--

XII.

It was Eloise who brought her world shattering back to reality. Her words were like cold water thrown into her face, the iciness of which stung her very soul.

She was not fully herself without Lady Whistledown. She was also not fully herself without Eloise.

She didn’t know how to reconcile being torn into so many pieces.

--

XIII.

He offered to walk her home. She didn’t need an escort, not when she lived just across the way. She had been alone in much more frightening places, but his insistence was endearing. And, truth be told, she didn’t want to leave his side.

She held his arm as they slowly made their way. No words passed between them, only giddy looks and shared giggles.

A long moment passed between them as they stood at her door. He gently brushed the hair off her forehead, traced one delicate finger down her cheek.

“I will see you in the morning?” How odd of a question, as if he was unsure of her answer.

She nodded. “Yes, of course.”

He grinned proudly, taking a moment to look around to secure that they were alone before drawing in for a sweet kiss.

It took her breath away. He always took her breath away.

--

XIV.

Even home and settled, her mind remained abuzz. She couldn’t sleep but she could write, and write she did, scribbling away as the evening slipped into early morning.

Her quill scratched across the parchment, writing such delectable words.

She only paused once, staring in somewhat disbelief at the words she had written on the page.

…it may come to a surprise to all that Mr. Bridgerton’s rumored assistance in helping Miss Featherington find a husband has, instead, led to the two of them finding each other…

She bit her lip, not helping the wide grin as she replayed Colin’s proposal in her mind.

She wished she could see the looks on the ton’s faces when they read her column in the morning.

--

XV.

It was the birds that awoke her, their happy songs in the golden sunlight bringing her from sleep. In truth, she could have stayed in bed much longer, but for the first time in forever, she truly wished to be in reality more than the fantasies that often occupied her dreams.

She cuddled into her pillow, thinking about how on this bright new morning, she was indeed about to become a wife. But not just anyone’s wife. Colin’s wife. Colin Bridgerton would be her husband.

An electric shiver ran throughout her body at the thought.

She closed her eyes and once again traveled back to the previous night. She once again could hear all of Colin’s honeyed words, feel his desperate lips on her skin, the sureness of his hand between her legs…

She let out a tiny moan. How ever would she be able to function that day?

--

XVI.

Her sisters were easy enough to avoid -- they were loud as they left, their doting husbands dutifully trailing behind them. Her mother, on the other hand, would be a force she had to meet head on.

Would it be too much to ask for her to be happy with the news? Could she not, for a moment, give out the same warmth, the same kindness, the same joy that Lady Bridgerton bestowed upon her just hours earlier? Could she just for once accept Penelope for who she was? Why was it - even when she was feeling on top of the world - there was always the fear that her own mother would be the one who toppled her over?

She braced herself, taking a deep breath in and holding her head high as she entered the drawing room.

--

XVII.

She once again remained dazed as Colin escorted her into the small home. Was there a limit to how much he could surprise her? Would there be an end to the utter shock she felt? Would she ever stop falling more and more in love?

He defended her against her mother, a moment that would remain seared in her brain forever. And now, he casually brought her into his home. Into their home. Into the house they would live in. Together.

She could have easily dismissed everything she had felt last night as a one-time fantasy. Some dream she conjured up by her imagination only to be dashed away when she retained her sensible mind. But that would not be the case.

Because today, because now in the brightness of the early afternoon, it all felt real. Too real. Too raw. So unbelievable that she could barely process it.

What else more could he possibly give her?

--

XVIII.

“Pen…”

“...yes?...”

“I would like…I…”

“Anything, Colin.”

“I am ready for you to touch me… Here, let me guide your hand.”

“What…why are you laughing?”

“It’s just that, you are so delicate in your touch. You can be rougher if you like.”

“Won’t I hurt you?”

“You could never hurt me.”

“Like this…is this good? I don’t quite know what I’m doing.”

“It’s wonderful, Pen, just keep…yeah….”

--

XIX.

They continued to trade slow kisses, no longer hurried or heated, but calm and anchoring. She relaxed into his embrace, feeling safer and more connected in his arms. She had thought she had known what love was. Thought she had known all its depths and all its intricacies. But this new kind of love was surreal, as if it existed outside her plane of existence.

His hand trailed over her skin sending a spark to her heart with each touch. His fingers danced over her breast, stopping for a moment to be playful with a nipple. She arched into him with a groan, raking one hand through his hair as she hiked one leg over his, lamenting the fact that he no longer was buried deep inside her. His kiss deepened, and it was remarkable that she did not combust with ecstasy yet again…

XX.

“Penelope Featherington, you should not look at me like that.”

She couldn’t help but stare as he rushed to clothe himself. He had never seemed so handsome to her in that odd state of half undress. If only she could be that fabric that clung so needily against his skin.

“Isn’t a wife allowed to look at her husband?”

A charming grin spread across his face. “You are not yet my wife,” he gently teased.

“No, but I long to look at you all the same.”

His smile faltered as he looked at her with bewilderment.

She was his. She had always been his. But it began to dawn on her that maybe he had always been hers as well. They did not need to exchange marriage vows to belong to each other.

--

XXI.

The Queen’s notice was heavy in her hand. Even as Colin snuck a tiny nibble to her neck, she could not stave off the sense of dread growing in her stomach.

--

XXII.

“It has been quite the day, has it not?”

Colin helped her out of the carriage, ever the gentleman as he took her hand. It felt almost too simple a gesture for all that had happened between them, yet she took it willingly. He kissed her hand and yet she couldn’t help but look up at him, wishing they weren’t bound by the rules of society. How much she longed to kiss his lips once again.

“Quite the day, indeed,” she managed to say.

Colin moved in, whispering close into her ear. “I love you, Pen.”

She felt too dumbstruck to say it back. But she felt it. She radiated it. He had to know, right? She was a writer of words, and yet she would never fully be able to express the depth of her love to him.

“We’ll be together again soon.” He dared sneak a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

Somehow, the air around her grew colder as he left.

--

XXIII.

The house she left was not the same house she came back to. Something had shifted in the air. Something had changed. She had changed. But she wasn’t the only one.

Her sisters were one thing, with their pregnancies and their husbands and their uncomfortable commentary about Lady Whistledown. They remained ignorant and occupied and could not sense that she was not the same person she had been just hours earlier.

But her mother was different, too. Her attempt at kindness felt troubling. She did not trust it. What scheme could she possibly be up to? It was doubtful that Portia Featherington could have actually found her heart. But other improbabilities becoming realities had surprised her.

--

XXIV.

The darkness of the evening light dimmed the room. Penelope hardly noticed as she was too lost in thought to consider it. She wrote away in her journal, wanting to document everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. What a whirlwind it had been, and she wasn’t quite sure all of it had happened.

She happened to glance up and catch herself in the mirror. She didn’t look any different. She was still her. Still Penelope. Still Lady Whistledown, though she tried her best to ignore the unsettling feeling brought about by that title. Still the girl who had hopes and dreams even if she now better understood how love can reverberate through your world and change it so fundamentally.

She was still Penelope Featherington. And even if she was still, maybe, unsure of who that was, even if she was learning that a sense of self was no longer a stable thing, she no longer scorned that name.

Besides, soon she would become Penelope Bridgerton. And with that, a sense of hope stayed firm within her, even if she sensed a growing shadow in her world. Yes, she would be Mrs. Penelope Bridgerton. A comforting warmth spread in her heart at the thought.

[ambrosiagourmet]

Has anyone requested Marcille for the ask meme? If not then pls

Marcille!!!!!!!!!

First impression

Gay? Interesting elf girl with a really good design for a female character oh my god thank you. She gets to wear pants!!! It's a miracle!

Impression now

BELOVED HALF-ELF OF MY HEART... most determined member of the party, maybe second only to Laios. Not that it's a competition.

Girl who carries the weight of her existence in her heart everywhere she goes. Girl who doesn't know how to just exist because that would mean surrendering to the things time will take away from her. Girl with bloody knuckles who clings too tightly to the things she loves because she remembers a time when she didn't realize what they meant to her.

Girl who must shape a life too big to hold all at once. Who stares into that impossible task so unflinchingly that you kind of want to tell her to run away from it for a bit. Be a bit more of a coward, Marcille! But she doesn't have time to be a coward!! She's hurtling towards her goals at terminal velocity. But the same love that keeps her tumbling forward also pulls her back from the brink. Because she's still figuring out the balance.

Favorite moment

Rabbit chapter... my god rabbit chapter.........

Genuinely maybe my favorite chapter in the whole manga. It hits such an incredible peak of humor and raw emotion and impossibly ridiculous situations and grounded believable character writing. And no part of it is separate from the others.

What a fucking chapter. And what a fucking thesis for why Marcille is such a good character. Her being ridiculous and her being incredibly determined and her being powerful and her being scared are ALL part of her. Man. Marcille. She will do anything to pull through for her friends.

And then on top of it the way the Lion takes advantage of this moment to pull her strings. Which is just. So horrifying to watch because you want someone to give her a hug but all the people who would give her a hug are currently DEAD and she's left in a room along and exhausted with a manipulative, abusive, hungry opportunist. God. God. I love Rabbit Part II So Very Much.

Idea for a story

Umm hi sorry I am still busy thinking about Rabbit Part II. Please enjoy some shameless self promotion while I go lie down for a bit.

Unpopular opinion

She's bisexual!!!!! Normally I don't hold so fast to like "well canonically this character was into A Man so she can't be a lesbian blah blah blah" but it does bum me out that people ignore her succubus because I really do think that bi Marcille deserves more love. It doesn't make her any less into women sheesh.

Favorite relationship

Sorry I was thinking about Rabbit Part II again what was the question? Favorite relationship?

Yeah I dunno maybe Marcille and Laios? I kinda like the part where they rely on each other because there is no other way through and share an unnamed intimacy born in blood and bone and the way that they place impossible burdens on each other and owe each other their lives many times over and neither holds it against the other or asks for the repayment of debts that can never be repaid, choosing instead to keep walking into the future by each others sides because what else can you do. What else can you do.

They are pretty cool I guess. I'm normal about them though. Haha.

Favorite headcanon

I imagine that castle staff help Marcille with her hair on a day-to-day basis because leaving it just to personal friends and family would probably be impractical. But also I think Chilchuck, Laios, Falin, and also especially KABRU all learn enough to help her with it. I think that the first three learn some basic nice stuff but I think Kabru would get really into it.

That man could absolutely intensely hyperfixate on something like "nice hairstyles from another culture" for three to six months and come out the other side an expert.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Fic prompt: character A falls asleep on character B, who needs to get up to get something but doesn’t want to disturb character A and therefore comes up with a maybe impractical solution to get the thing they need without waking up character A

There was kind of a lot going on when Ed was startled awake.

He registered the horrifying crash that had woken him up, the tail end of Stede's aww dammit, and, in pretty much the same moment, an awful gurgling noise caused by Ed reflexively jabbing his arm into Stede's throat in an attempt to curtail some imagined attacker.

"Stede!" Ed yelped, scrambling up from his formerly-comfortable spot curled in Stede's lap to straddle his hips, checking for damage. "Are you okay?"

"I was okay," Stede hissed, prodding at the tender red spot on his throat with his forefinger, "before you slammed your entire body weight into my throat, you nut!"

"Sorry." Ed grimaced, bending to press a kiss over the spot. Thankfully, the angle hadn't been very good, and his flailing had hit him mostly by accident. "What was that noise?"

Stede went quiet, starting to get a tinge of pink around the tips of his ears. "I needed to blow out the light," he said mildly.

"Blow out the...?" Ed shifted himself back into Stede's lap, flinging his legs over his thighs so he could see - oh, what the fuck.

Ed blinked at the pile of debris scattered around the side table next to their couch. Crumpled up paper balls, pillows, and a couple heavy books (what must have woken Ed up, he guessed) lay in a haphazard pile around the table, the oil lamp still burning merrily amidst the wreckage.

Ed immediately started laughing his head off, and, to his relief, Stede started laughing, too, his head falling to Ed's shoulder, pressing a kiss to the bare skin there between his laughs. "You're lucky you didn't start a fire, babe! Why did you think that would work?"

"I mean, it really doesn't need you to blow that hard," Stede shrugged, a hand landing easily, possessively, over Ed's hip in a way that just made him purr. "So I thought, you know, maybe the gust from something flying overhead..."

"Did you try -"

"Yes," Stede said, "I tried blowing from here."

He tried again, just blowing ineffectually into space, and Ed joined in to no avail. Stupid oil lamp just kept burning.

"Damn," Ed wheezed, breathless from his heroic attempt to blow out the light from across the room. "Why didn't you just get up?"

Stede brushed a strand of hair behind Ed's ear, his eyes crinkling with the softest smile in the world, the one he reserved just for Ed. "You were sleeping so well."

Fuck, but if it was possible for love to kill, Ed would've died ages ago.

"Alright," he said, straddling Stede's lap again and wrapping his arms around his neck. "I'll show you how it's done, watch. Just take me with you."

Stede laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek before hoisting him up. Ed buried his giggles into the side of Stede's neck, wrapping his legs tight around his waist as Stede hobbled them over to the lamp. He held it up for Ed to blow out, and Ed loved him so much that the room stayed golden even when it was out.

"See?" Ed wrapped his arms tighter around Stede's neck, cuddling into his chest. "Wasn't so hard, was it?"

[three--rings]

I finished reading Dungeon Meshi (aka Delicious in Dungeon, but it seems people kinda hate that translation).

Highly recommended. Like, I didn't know what to expect going in. I'd gotten the impression that the manga was kinda dark and disturbed, actually, from things I'd heard.

So I wasn't prepared for the wholesome, light-hearted tone of most of it. Found family dnd party gets into trouble and eats weird ass meals.

It seems like a lot of people focus on "oh it's not all fun and games, it's like HEAVY and shit" but it's very much both. It's very funny and very wholesome and also lots of (light) body horror and About Horrifying Things.

It never gets bogged down in it. I was kinda waiting for when Shit Got Real and the tone took a turn, but that never actually happens. It remains funny and absurd and warm even in the midst of horrors. At least half the characters don't realize they're actually experiencing anything horrible. And the others are mostly annoyed by the horrors more than horrified. For them it's just an annoying work day.

I do absolutely LOVE the world-building here and have started thinking very impractical thoughts about trying to set a dnd campaign in this world. (Even though I Don't DM!) But imagine doing a campaign set in this world where the players don't know Dungeon Meshi and therefore get to be blindsided by How Dungeons Work and Why. (My favorite part of the whole thing.)

I'm really looking forward to watching the anime now I've finished the manga. The bits I've seen look so perfect!

I may come back and do a full rec post for it after that. If I remember.

[autumnmobile12]

About the Infant Skull in the Belmont Hold

Trigger Warning: Sensitive topics below.

In a post I made last year, I pointed out the small skull in this display is case belongs to a baby.

The 'crack' down the center of the forehead is a frontal suture which closes between the ages of three to nine months, and to showcase the fact it's not just a cracked bone, the animators included a fontanelle between the bony plates of the skull, which closes before the age of two.

There is the skull of an infant in the Belmont Hold.

So what's the story here?

Theory 1: The Skull is a Vampire

This could have been a human baby that was turned by a vampire for whatever reason. Maybe this was some vampire's twisted idea of a pet. Maybe it was a horrifying, psychological trauma where a human woman lost her baby and after becoming a vampire, turned an infant into a vampire so as to never experience that pain again whilst tragically blind to the fact an immortal infant would never grow up.

If either of these were the case, whichever Belmont found this child could have viewed his or her death as a mercy. Since the baby would be immortal, it would be impractical to keep it alive forever, not to mention almost cruel because what kind of life is that? And it would be equally inhumane to leave the vampire to starve to death, so the options are limited.

The skull was brought home not as a trophy but as a specimen to study and serve as a grim reminder of a harsh reality.

...

Theory 2: The Skull is a Dhampir

Carmilla's above comment gives me the vague impression that it's not unheard of for a vampire to have a child with a human and then turn the human into a vampire, creating a family unit. (Just the way she says it. Like the unspoken line was, "You married a human, you succeeded in getting a child off her, so she was free to become a vampire after, no?" Turning Lisa after Adrian was born was the next natural step in her mind, so it baffles Carmilla why Dracula's wife remained human.) So maybe dhampirs are uncommon, but Alucard is far from the first one to ever exist.

So if the skull belonged to a dhampir like Alucard, this opens up another set of possibilities, but before I go into those, I want to address the Belmont Clan's potential view towards vampires and human-vampire hybrids. It's not clear if Alucard needs human blood to survive. He eats human food, but so do the vampires. Lenore comments they get their essential nutrients from blood, but whether or not this also pertains to dhampirs is up for debate. In the Gresit Underground Keep scene, it does look like he had some form of blood transfusion system possibly sustaining him, but this could arguably be a life and death situation. As in, he doesn't need blood to survive, but it can also save his life if need be.

There's also the possibility the blood-drinking is not the same across the board. (Say Alucard doesn't need blood to survive, but another dhampir was saddled with the shitty genetics that make blood a requirement.)

For the Belmonts, I can see dhampirs being a controversial subject. From Leon to Trevor's time, there are four centuries and countless individuals with their own set of similar but unique values and opinions, so it would be understandable for various Belmonts to have points of contention as well as shifts in viewpoint down the generations as new information about the enemy comes to light. Some members might have the stance of, "Dhampirs do not need blood to survive, are not a threat to humanity, and therefore it is unnecessary to hunt and kill them," while others may have taken the more extreme stance of, "Dhampirs are unnatural creatures that do not belong in this world any more than vampires do." Without the precedent of Alucard and Trevor having a common enemy, there would be nothing to sway the entire family one way or the other.

So if this is the case, the skull could have come from a vampire family similar to Dracula, Lisa, and Alucard's, and that family could have been discovered by a Belmont who made the decision to eradicate the them, including the dhampir for whichever reason:

The existence of dhampirs hadn't been discovered/confirmed yet, so the infant was assumed to be a vampire and it was viewed as a mercy killing out of ignorance. (Remember, Trevor thought Alucard was a vampire when they first met, so there is no visual difference between the two species.)

Dhampirs are assumed by the Belmonts to need blood to survive and are therefore a predator to humans that needs to be put down, again out of ignorance or just plain malice.

This particular Belmont was a heartless psychopath who had no qualms killing an innocent baby just for existing.

...

Theory 3: It's a Dhampir and the Belmonts Have a Really Fucked Up History With Dhampirs

There is also the possibility the mother of the dhampir child was a human woman that was raped and impregnated by a vampire. (Surviving somehow...?) In this scenario, there is a woman terrified by the idea she is about to birth a monster and goes to the local vampire experts for help. The Belmonts take her in until she delivers this unwanted child and the fate of the baby dhampir is entirely in their hands, which brings us back to the mentioned controversy among the family members.

If the mother abandons her 'monster' child, the Belmonts are left which the choice, "Do we kill it before it grows up to kill someone or do we give it a chance and let it live?"

Another possibility is the dhampir was brought up within the household for the purposes of 'studying' or 'rehabilitating' its nature. Say the family discovers dhampirs don't need to subsist on human blood and are relieved. "Wonderful. Dhampirs can live as humans and there is no need to kill them." The dhampir grows up happily among his or her adopted human family.

But then there is a tragic accident where he or she doesn't know their own strength and fatally harms a family member. The Belmonts then make the decision: Lock them up or execute them as a monster.

Based on this precedent, the family then closes off the idea that dhampirs can live as normal humans forever and they subsequently commit infanticide against any future dhampir children that cross their path, a blanket decision based entirely on a one-time misfortune.

Theory 4: The Belmonts Were Not the Cause

This again calls into question how dhampir physiology works, but maybe the infant died of an illness of failure to thrive. Alucard is strong and healthy, but that may not be same for other dhampirs, especially ones that may have been rejected as a 'freak' by both humans and vampires. He had the advantage of having a loving family and a safe environment in which to grow up. Other dhampirs might not have had the same good fortune and their health suffered for it. (Or they got dealt a bad hand in the gene pool.)

As for how the skull wound up in the Hold, it could have been one of the 'weird stuff' the Belmonts found and brought back home with them.

This could also apply to a situation where a vampire killed a rival family and kept their skulls as trophies, and the collection simply wound up in the Belmonts' treasury after destroying said vampire.

"It's like a museum dedicated to the extermination of my people, so no. Not thrilled."

Whatever the truth of the skull, I'm inclined to believe Theories 2 or 3 because this scene struck me as a very subtle nod to how no side in a war is completely innocent. On the one hand, vampires like Carmilla, Cho, Godbrand, etc. hunt and toy with humans for sport and view them as lesser beings, and so the Belmonts seeking to eliminate them would be an understandable measure to protect humanity.

On the other hand, the presence of the infant skull indicates a tragic and bloody history of poor choices, old prejudices, potential atrocities committed by the 'heroes,’ and generational trauma. A past history even Trevor isn't particularly proud of for all the pride he has in his lineage. It really showcases the line between man and monster and aligns with the recurrent theme of 'we can be better than this' that occurs throughout the series.

But let me know if you've got any theories/headcanons different from what I have listed above. I'd love to hear it. Crediting Theory 4 to @thetvpenigma. Thanks for your help!