#but because the narrator of the book didn't turn to the reader and say 'by the way it's bad to hurt yourself and i shouldn't have done that

[backlogbooks]

finished coup de grace by sophia ajram, and I don't know if "enjoyed" is the right word for this because it's a very heavy book, but I'm glad I read it and i'm going to be thinking about it for a long while. The ending absolutely sold me on the book though--I've seen people who hated it, and while like, I can technically see their point, I think it was the absolute right ending for the book.

it is a book about depression and suicide (I think someone described it as a meditation on those things, which is probably the most accurate description), so definitely check in with yourself before reading

[yourfriendlyfanperson]

A Chemical Reaction Called Love

Chapter 2: More than a Coincidence

~Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!reader

~Summary: Being the daughter of Hawkins Middle School Science teacher, Scott Clarke, has its perks. Constantly having to explain things to 'King' Steve Harrington wasn't necessarily one of them but it was something you had gotten used to. He might not be the brightest guy but at least he tried, and you appreciated that. You had big plans for the future, but they might be forced to change thanks to a phone call...

~Warnings: Sensitive topics might be brought up so reader discretion is advised.

~Word Count: 2.8k

~Authors Note: Hey everyone! Here's chapter two! Thank you so much for the love on the first chapter, I'm still getting used to how posting fanfics on tumblr works so I appreciate all the likes and reposts! If you'd like to be tagged in the next chapter let me know! Once again you can find me on Ao3 as Lilpipsqueak and W-tpadd as friendlyfanperson!

If anyone could tell me how to do the number link thing where I can link the second chapter to add to chapter one I would be so so thankful I have no idea how to do it

~Narrator's POV~

"Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n!"

She stops walking, turning around to look at who was calling her name in the corridor, and she sees Robin rushing towards her, almost falling back but she catches her balance before she falls and continues running towards her.

"You won't believe what I just saw," She says stopping in front of her.

"What?! What happened?" She asked, wondering what exciting information she found out now.

"Steve Harrington is going out with Nancy Wheeler," She told her, eyes wide open, "Can you believe it? I thought he only dated the pretty easy-to hook up with girls"

"I thought that too, but I also guessed something might be going on between them since I saw them hanging out yesterday" She shares with Robin, "I never would've guessed that Nancy would be the type of girl to go out with someone like Steve"

"Right! I mean she's so smart and pretty! She could get any guy in Hawkins and she went for the dumb popular guy of all" Robin said, she had never been able to understand what people saw in Steve, she saw him as a grade A asshole.

Y/n thought Steve was okay, she didn't want to have much of an opinion on him since she didn't talk to him outside of the classroom so technically didn't know the 'real' him, but she didn't hate him or anything like that.

"Maybe there's something about him that they see" She points out.

"Or maybe they just have such a low-self esteem they will settle for someone like him"

"You really don't like him do you?" She asks her, knowing very well her answer.

"I have a right to dislike him alright, he's an asshole to some people, is rich and he gets the chance to date most if not all of my crushes" Robin explains annoyed.

"How is he being rich something that adds to him being an asshole?" Y/n asks confused as to how that comment is relevant to the conversation.

"Because, meanwhile we're both here poor with our part-time jobs" She complains opening her locker as she takes out her books.

"I'm pretty sure he can't help the fact he's rich, and I'm not really poor, so technically you should hate me too," She tells her, partially joking.

"I could never hate you though, and you're economically okay"

"Wow, so you're saying I'm almost poor?" Y/n asks her walking to her next classroom.

"I mean...no, but also yes" Robin explains to her.

"Rude" Y/n adds as she pushes Robin away from her.

They both laugh at each other as they continue walking down the corridor, knowing that this is just one of their usual banters. Yet Steve stayed at the back of Y/n's mind after the conversation ended and she wondered what type of person he really is, whether he's an asshole like many think, or whether there's more to him than meets the eyes.

She had most lessons with Steve actually, but they never really talked outside of science, she guessed it was due to the fact in his other classes he sat next to Tommy or some of his popular friends, so it would be weird for him to speak to Y/n as if they were close friends since they weren't, she wasn't even sure if they were friends, she supposed they were simply acquaintances, or just classmates, anything along those lines.

Sometimes she would catch him staring at her, which she found a bit strange but she guessed he just spaced out those times, it happened to her sometimes as well so she knew not to overthink about it. And there wasn't really a reason for her to overthink about it anyway, she didn't find Steve interesting in that way, sure she thought he was probably hiding more than what he led on, and that his only mystery was more than just him trying to act cool.

Other times he surprised her as well, those times tend to be whenever he asked her about the lesson and if she could help him understand what was actually taught, and today just happened to be one of those days.

"Hey, Einstein," Steve says walking over to Y/n's desk.

She looked back at him surprised by the sudden start of a conversation as she packed her books.

"Yeah?"

"Did you-umm, understand anything that Mr. Drew explained?" He asks, knowing full well that he spent half of the class talking with his friends and the other half trying to comprehend what was coming out of Mr. Drew's mouth.

"You're asking me if I understood the crash of Wall Street in 1929?" She responds, slightly confused on how someone couldn't understand at least the basics about it.

"Yes" Was all Steve was able to say, realising how stupid he must seem now.

"Yes I understood it, did you?" She asks, and he could tell she didn't seem to have any intention to judge him.

"I mean, honestly, no, but I wasn't paying much attention to be fair," He says, feeling okay with the fact he might be a bit of an idiot.

"You gotta start paying more attention in class Steve, we graduate next year," Y/n tells him as she takes one of the books in her bag out again.

"I know, I know, and I will, I swear"

"You better, because I can help you study but I can't get you the grades at the end of the day. Now, here are the notes I took of today's class, they're pretty self-explanatory but if you need help with them just let me know and I'll go over the topic" She explained handing him her notebook.

"I own you big time" He smiles at her taking the notebook and putting it in his bag

"This is like the thirtieth time you've said that, you own me a lot," She tells him, mostly just joking, but also keeping it in mind.

"I know, but I'll pay you back one day," He tells her, actually being serious and wanting to eventually thank her for all her help.

"You don't actually have to, you know? I help you because I want to, not to get something in return" She points out as both of them start walking out of the room.

"I know, but I still need to thank you, you've helped me more than anyone else, even though it must get annoying"

"And there you're very right, it can be annoying at times but it's not so bad" He looks at her confused, unsure whether he should take it as a compliment or be offended.

"Is that supposed to be a good comment?" He asks.

"Well-"

"Hey, Y/n have you seen Barb around? Or do you know anyone that has seen her today?" Nancy asks her clearly worried.

"No sorry, I haven't seen her, I don't think anyone I know has any lessons with her so I doubt they'd know," Y/n tells her, a bit surprised by the question given the fact she never talked to Barb and was a year older than both of them so there was no way she would have any of her classes with her, "Maybe she's off sick"

"Yeah don't worry about it too much Nance I'm sure she's fine," Steve tells her, taking her hand and moving closer to her. Y/n knew it was time for her to go.

"I'll let you know if I hear of her though, I'll see you guys around," She said waving goodbye at them and walking off to her next lesson.

The rest of the day was pretty normal, nothing exciting ever really happened in Hawkins anyway, so aside from school and work there was nothing Y/n had to worry about, except, of course, the fact that Will was still missing and was yet to be found.

She hoped that what they had found last night would at least be a start, but she also knew that maybe what they found meant nothing to the investigation. All she wanted though was for Will to be found and returned safely home.

"Do you have work today?" Robin asks her as they walk down the corridor, the school day finally over.

"Yeah, I'm taking the bus there since my dad has to stay late finishing some things, do you?"

"No, I worked yesterday so I'm free today, but I have to help out my mom with some things" Robin explained to her as she opened the door and they both walked out of the school.

"Sounds fun," Y/n said sarcastically.

"I mean it shouldn't be too bad, but when it comes to my mom there are times when I don't even know what will happen"

~~~~~~

"Do or die, what's done is done" Y/n sings as she skates down the night streets to her house. She had finished her shift for the day and was finally heading home after a long day of serving customers at the cafe, but she got some pretty good tips so she didn't have much to complain about.

Due to the fact she didn't own a car or a bike, she always skated from the cafe to her house, it wasn't too far away and she actually liked skating, it was her way of exercising (since she wasn't in any of the school's teams) and it was fun since she could listen to music while getting home.

Robin had told her that she should just save up for a bike since it was quicker but Y/n would rather save her money on something else that she either needed more or wanted more. 'You'll break your arm or leg one of these days' was what Robin always told her, but in her 7 years of having skates she had only scrapped her legs or arms, she also doubts the fact that tripping on something will make her end with a broken bone, so, for now, it seems she'll just stick to skating.

"Hey dad, I'm home," She says, unlocking the door and taking off her skates, "What's for dinner?"

She closed the door and left her bag next to his, taking off her coat and placing it on top of a chair.

"They gave me some mac and cheese that wasn't sold today so we could eat that if you haven't cooked anything," She told him walking to the living room where he was sitting watching the tv as she waited for his response, but there was none, "Dad? What do you-"

"On today's breaking news the body of Will Byers, who was announced missing just yesterday was found by the police minutes ago in the quarry"

Y/n's face drops as she hears the news, she takes a seat next to her dad as she keeps listening to the news trying to process what's going on, trying to process the fact that Will is dead.

"Chief Hopper believes he got lost after crashing his bike and accidentally fell, resulting in a tragic but hopefully painless death, but as of now it is just a theory, and we don't actually know if it was an accident, or perhaps something more. We give our condolences to the Byers family and we hope that they'll be able to get through these tough times "

Scott stands up and turns off the tv right after, not wanting to listen to any more details about the tragic death of his student and his daughter's friend.

Meanwhile, Y/n is still staring at the screen shocked, frozen in place, trying to understand the news she was just given, Will Byers, the little twelve-year-old boy which she babysat for years now has just been announced dead. She can't understand how such a thing can be possible, how a boy who had his whole life ahead, who was just beginning to live, who was the kindest person she had ever met, was dead just like that.

"Honey, are you okay?" Her dad asks her sitting back down.

"I-no, no I'm not," Y/n says as she starts crying.

Scott immediately pulls Y/n into a hug, her head hiding on his chest as she hugs him back, he patted her back gently moving his head on top of hers as he closed his eyes. He hoped that Will's death had indeed just been an accident, he had to make himself believe it was, because otherwise he might not be able to sleep for a while knowing that there could be someone out there who wants to hurt kids, and that could possibly hurt his daughter, he also couldn't believe that Will was dead, a boy he had been teaching for years and saw almost as his son, to end up with a fate late that. Y/n on the other hand just kept thinking about Will, what his final moments were like, whether he suffered or not, she couldn't even imagine how Joyce or Jonathan must be feeling getting the news that he is dead.

"I can't believe he's really dead" Y/n whispered as she stopped crying.

"I know honey, it'll be okay, how about I heat up the mac and cheese," He says, trying to help things calm down for just a second.

"It wouldn't be right if I tried to talk to them tomorrow would it?" She asks him.

"Talk to who?" Scott asks confused.

"Joyce and Jonathan, they probably need some space and time, so I should wait a bit before talking to them, right?"

"Yeah it would be better for them, they need to process everything first, let's wait a couple of days,"

Y/n nodded at her dad as she moved away from the hug, standing up and grabbing her bag, "So, mac and cheese?"

~~~~~~~~

The next day was exhausting, everyone around the corridors kept talking about Will and what had happened, Y/n was glad Jonathan wasn't in school because it would've made things impossible for him, she hoped he and Joyce were okay. She also kept thinking about Barb, Nancy had told her in the morning that she was missing and no one had seen her since Tuesday night. Two people now had gone missing, one of which had been found dead, and Y/n had a terrible feeling that maybe everything that was happening was more than just an accident.

"Just, don't mention the beers, it's just gonna get us both in trouble, and Barbara's got nothing to do with it, okay?" Y/n faintly heard someone say as she walked out of the school.

"I can't believe you right now... I can't believe you"

"Nancy!" She heard someone shout as she walked towards the middle school, she saw Nancy walking out of the spot between the school and gym, angry, like really angry, she didn't even look up when she passed by Y/n, she just kept walking straight to the school.

"Nancy come on!" She turned around and saw Steve coming out of the same spot, he wasn't trying to catch up to her, he knew she would ignore him anyway, "Einstein, hey" He says, his tone softer now as he turned to look at Y/n.

"Hey, everything okay?" She asks him, partially because it was the normal thing to do and also because she wanted to know what had happened, as nosy as it sounds.

"Yeah, everything's okay," He told her; Y/n knew he was lying, Steve knew she knew he was lying, but in a way, they both knew it would be better to leave it like that, "What about you?"

"Oh I'm fine, just walking to the middle school to help out with the assembly" She explained and he nodded at her.

"Cool"

"Yeah, well, I'll see you later," She said unsure of what to keep talking about, as she started walking away.

"Wait," He said walking closer to her, "How much did you hear?" He asked her.

"Honestly, not that much, only the end of it"

"Did it sound bad?" She looked at him confused.

"The argument?" She asked.

"Yes, the argument, did I sound like an asshole?" Y/n didn't think she could really make much out of what she heard, but it didn't sound great either.

"I mean- I barely heard anything, I don't even know the context of the conversation so I don't think it's right for me to say" She explained to him.

"That was a stupid question," Steve said shaking his head.

"If you think you were an asshole then you should apologise to Nancy, she's already having a rough time given the fact Barb is missing, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't want to deal with an argument at a time like this," She told him, trying to help, in some way at least, she wasn't sure what to say, but this was the best she could think of.

"You're right, I was an asshole. You know you give great advice"

"Thanks, well I'll get going now, I'll see you later Steve," She says waving goodbye at him as she starts to walk away.

"Yeah, I'll see you later Einstein" He adds softly smiling at her as he walks back into the school.

Thank you for reading! Any likes and reposts are appreciated!

[yourivyygrow]

SIREN SONG | counting summers, part 0

previous | next

your therapist-assigned vacations take a turn for the stranger when you discover an all-too-familiar compass in the local antique shop.

serie: counting summers, book one: the pull of the tide, szn one: where the current takes us

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

wordcount: 5.7k

warnings: parental neglect, references to depression, semi-explicit description of a suicide attempt

a/n: big project incoming lmaoo

THE HEAT IN your room was high enough to kill, you thought as you mindlessly clicked on the 'Next Episode' button.

North Carolina wasn't especially known for its remarkable hotness but the coast nearing summer? That was something else. The tank top and the jean shorts you sport on stuck to your skin like glue and if you wore any thinner or shorter, you'd probably end up being arrested for public indecency. As a whole, you weren't a big fan of the heat.

You weren't a big fan of anything, really. That's why your parents dragged you here.

"Y/N?" Called your mom's voice through the door after a few knocks. "Are you awake?"

You quickly glanced at the time. 4pm. She probably knew you were, but the number of times you slept through the day to escape it for a few hours were too numerous to count. You didn't resent her for asking. "Yeah," your answer was short, like usual when speaking to her. Waiting for her to talk again, you pressed pause on the beginning of the episode you were going to watch.

There was a short blank, you almost thought she left until she spoke up. "We need you to watch the house while your dad and I go down to the market. Can you do that?"

You sighed. Of course it was a demand. It always was. "Sure. Enjoy."

Your mom didn't say anything else, and your heard her steps going down the stairs leading to the living room of your AirBNB. Soon enough your dad and her will be slamming the front door shut and leaving you alone once more on the trip that was supposed to be for you.

I mean, it didn't surprise you, but you thought they would have hid their disdain a little better.

You never had a really good relationship with your parents. I mean, you were pretty sure you were an accident even though they didn't confirm it to you. This distant, cold, bordering on professional relationship with them took a turn for the worse when you grew up ─ and the thing was that you couldn't exactly pinpoint when. It just happened, along with the slow decline of your mental health.

Your dad was a passive presence in your life. He just wasn't there most of time: a quick hi and bye when you got in and out of school and asking to sign your failed tests which he didn't glance at twice. That's fine, in theory. Your mom was something else, though.

The more you grew up, the more you became sure that she had something against you. A type of intergenerational resentment, you thought, but you gave up analyzing that long ago. That's what your therapist advised you.

Which is why you were going to push all of that aside and resume your episode.

The characteristic sound of Outer Banks' opening music echoed through your headphones, calming your palpitating heart. John B's, well, more like Chase Stokes' voice followed soon enough, doing his classic narration at the beginning of the episode. That's what you liked so much about the show, the naturalness of it. It was sort of like watching someone read a diary.

Outer Banks wasn't your kind of show at all, which is why you didn't jump of it when it first appeared on Netflix in 2020. You were more of a fantasy drama kind of girl. The longest interaction you had with the media was probably when you lingered on the announcement of season 4 two months ago. Maybe it was a sign - because a week later, your therapist strongly advised you (more like ordered if you were asked) to go on vacations. Your mom jumped at the opportunity to "see a little of the coast" without asking much of your opinion or your dad's. So here you were, in North Carolina, in the actual, real life Outer Banks.

The only reason you picked it up was because you thought it would be funny considering your situation. A little taste of what it would be like. You started it a few days before taking your flight - turns out you stayed awake all night finishing season one because holy shit, was it addictive. You immediately understood why it got the success it did. So season two was downloaded and binged on the road as well as in plane, and you were set on finishing it today, as well as starting the third season. It's not like you had anything else to do, your mom clearly had plans of her own when it came to this trip and didn't try to include you in the slightest. You suspected, basically knew, the only reason she was there was for the vacations and only programmed them under the orders of your therapist to give herself some comfort about being a... well, shitty mom. No other way to say it.

It was fine, though. Now you were on the last episode and entirely hooked. A part of you didn't really want to keep on watching it - it meant one season less until you had to wait to season four to come out, until you had to say goodbye to the universe you got attached to for a little while. You had the bad habit to do that, get emotionally devoted to fictional universe and fall into heartbreak when it ended. It was way less scary than real life, you thought, but a thousand time more painful.

The other part of you, though, was dying to see how the season would conclude. That's the part who took over, against your better judgement.

The music stopped, the episode carried on and your focus wasn't wavered by the clinking of the front door keys.

     When people said they needed to reconnect with nature after something truly fucked happened, you thought they were joking. You never really experienced that apart from when you finished a really good book and had to spend one hour looking at a wall to compose yourself - it wasn't the same thing, was it?

The season two finale of Outer Banks had made you go into complete lethargy. And by lethargy I mean wide eyes, mouth agape, looking at the ceiling-lethargy. The black credit scene stared back at you like some kind of taunt, contrasted by the tempting white 'Next Episode' button. But you needed some time to gather your thoughts after... all of this.

You didn't hear your parents leaving. You were way too entraced in this one hour of pure adrenaline (by proxy, true, but it was still adrenaline) that you missed yelling at your mom to leave you the front door keys ─ you didn't expect her to remember by herself, and even you reminded her once you had to do it twice just in case. She had a good memory, except when it came to you. So, technically, you were stuck at the AirBNB until your parents came back.

But expecting you wouldn't find a way to go out was severely underestimating someone who seeked escapism in her own house.

You needed to breathe fresh air. Fiction affected your reality more than you liked to admit, sometimes taking more space than not, and the emotional rollercoaster you just went through was in desperate want of an outlet. It's with your heart thumping in your chest and your mind still hazy that you opened the kitchen's window downstairs and, as graceful as a whale out of the water, sneaked out of the house.

Usually, you were pretty good at sliding off soundly. The numbers of time you spent your sleepless evenings on the hidden corner of your house's rooftop were too uncountable by their recurrence. The numbers of time you actually went away to walk around the neighborhood for hours on end without your parents noticing were even bigger. You blamed your lack of grace as you fell from the window to the grass on the overwhelming heat.

After wiping any mud, dirt and green stains off you, you took a road you now knew too well. You didn't really explore your side of the Outer Banks, mainly because it didn't interest you much, you much preferred staying in the walls of your assigned room. But during one of the mandated visits your mom dragged you to so you could report at least something to your therapist, a small, broken down shop caught your eye almost immediately.

Your AirBNB was situated in a little coastal town, not far away from beaches and cliffs, big enough to have some well known shops, tourists attractions and bars, but not quite enough to be considered a city yet. Headphone on, blasting music, it took you a little below ten minutes to walk to the main street, still bustling with local life: street vendors were slowly packing up for the day while the food stands still held up, the strong aroma of spicy seafood seeking your nostrils, almost nauseating by its intensity. People with shopping bags pushed past you like they didn't see you, children were laughing and running around the surf shop at the end of the street - but that's not where you were headed.

You took a left turn into a much smaller, incommodious street that you'd definitely be way more scared to take at night. The sun was still bright in the sky due to the season, though, so you walked through it with your mind still reeling from the finale of your show.

The Pogues were stranded on an island, Poguetopia as they way too enthuastically called it. And Big John Routledge was alive, apparently? What was with dads and dying just to come back in this show. If your dad had to go in mysterious circumstances, you'd prefer he'd stay gone. Sometimes you thought your mom shared your opinion.

You finally arrived to the place you were looking for: Arianne's Lost and Found Antique Shop. A lirtle smile stretched your lips. It didn't look like much: the wooden insigna was mostly ate down my mices and the construction of the small shack made you wonder how it survived the tropical storms washing over the coast. Vines were growing on its facade, the smell of sea salt strongly emanated from the planks. The shop had this strange charisma to it, drawing you off the main street the first time. And the second. By the third time, Arianne knew you by name and because of that, you felt the obligation to come back every few days, if not every. Also because it was the only spot you didn't feel out of place.

The bell of the windowed front door rang aggressively when you pushed it open. The smell of sand and old books hit your nose instantly, a small comfort as you shivered slightly - the shop's interior was downright cold despite not having any air conditioning, and the never ending antique bookshelves lining the walls didn't do anything to bring warmth to the room.

A raspy, high-pitched voice rose up from behind a worryingly tall pile of clothes. "Y/N? Is that you, baby?"

"Who else?"

The tall figure of Arianne, the legend in the flesh, withdrew from behind the piled-up clothes. She was a lanky, dark-skinned woman with waist-lenght black and pepper curls. Her eyes, tired by age, sparked with kindness and mischief and while her cane was holding most of her weight, she still moved with a swift assurance that made you look twice when she passed by. When her eyes set upon you, a vivid smile lit up her face.

"What are you implying about my shop?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Oh nothing, nothing..." You swiped your finger on a nearby shelf, covering it in dust, before looking back at Arianne expectantly.

The old woman raised her cane as if to hit you. "Why, you little-"

You sidestepped her as a chuckle escaped you. Soon enough, she let out a huffy laugh herself. Not a lot of tourists knew about the Lost and Found due to its... dubious placement. Athe locals seemed to avoid it like the plague. Business was bad, to say the least, and she knew it. You don't know how Arianne kept afloat and sometimes you told yourself you didn't want to know ─ at least, she knew the jokes were all in good fun.

"Some sketchy men came by yesterday night with some shit they left back there, if you're interested," she offhandedly said.

And obviously, your attention was caught by her words like a fish on a hook. "Really?"

"Would I lie about more junk cluttering this place?"

She nudged your foot with her cane in the direction of the new arrival. Without awaiting more words from the woman, you walked toward the back, dodging the multiple boxes filled to the brim with rusty silver plates and yellow partition papers. Ever since you discovered the Lost and Found there had been no new donations, you assumed because it was because its unpopularity. Turns out you were wrong.

When you reached the wooden walls alcove at the end of the shop, you were faced with a myriad of disarranged items spread out on a wavering table, varying in sizes and apperances but all sharing one similarity: the undeniable charm of being lost at sea. Arianne was quick behind you. "The guys who dropped this off were searching from some treasure, or something like that."

Your eyes were still fixed on the table in front of you when you answered. "Doesn't look like they found it."

"You tell me. Some of those things actually look kinda interesting, though. Didn't have time to look at 'em properly," said Arianne. "Made me think about you and your little show with all that treasure hunting."

You huffed. With your aversion of talking about yourself or any kind of small talk, obviously the topic you'd bring when you reluctantly had an interaction with someone would be your current fictional obsession. Or just plain silence. But this time it was the first case, right now it being Outer Banks. Most of the time people didn't stick by long enough for you to get talkative and speak up about it, or they would leave halfway through. But Arianne didn't, she let you rant about it for a week straight and seemed to enjoy when you briefed her about the last episodes you watched. It might have to do with how she didn't know how to make Netflix work - but you preferred lying to yourself and pretend she was actually interested.

"Thanks Arianne," you muttered.

With a wave of the hand, she shunned your gratitude aside. "Bah! No need to thank me for that garbage."

You didn't add anything else. With the tip of your fingers, you traced what looked like a small, rusty anchor, engraved with a delicate wheat symbol. After a comfortable silence, Arianne spoke up again.

"Anyways, I have some paperwork to get back to in the office. You'll tell me about the next episodes you watched when you'll be done looking through all that."

She turned around as you nodded without thinking, way too entranced by the objects already. Before leaving, she added, "Oh, and if you could sort stuff out. Would appreciate it."

She withdrew in a little corridor leading to her office. You didn't mind at all. A business, even failing, was still a business.

Plus, you had much to keep you occupied.

A gun to your temple wouldn't get you to admit it to anyone else but yourself but back when you were still holding on to school and your passions, you were a bit of a history nerd. Not the big parts of history, but the small, obscure parts nobody cared much about: the pirates, the lost treasures, the lost myths, legends and sea goddesses. That's one of the main part of Outer Banks that hooked you. It reminded you of you, a few years back. Before everything

You started looking through the mess of silver, plated gold and rust. They were beautiful, their sheen a little tainted by time and salt water, yes, but still beautiful. In your eyes at least.

Rummaging through them was an arduous task as some of them seemed to be tangled together (and good luck detangling metal) but somehow you enjoyed it. Organizing them by color, type, time they might have been lost... you liked it, the order. You didn't consider it as a job when Arianne asked you to arrange her messiest piles of clutter, which is why you refused the money she offered you the first time. You just appreciated being in contact of history, as insignificant as it was, and the satisfaction of putting everything where it should be.

An hour must have passed, maybe a little more: the sun was visibly declining in the sky through the window, painting the dark room in soft shades of yellow and orange. You were almost done sorting through everything: to your surprise ─ note the sarcasm ─ not a lot of interesting things came out of it. Old cutlery, navigation tools too damaged to be considered worthwhile... a big pile of nothings. But it kept you entertained for a bit.

That's when the sun fell low enough to hit something on the far end of the table, catching the corner of your eye. A small glimpse, so very little you could've missed it by blinking. Curiosity took over your being - you were pretty sure you didn't notice anything of the sort before.

Reaching out your hand, you took a hold of it.

A compass.

It was average-sized and not as rusty as the other objects, so it must have not been in contact with the sea water for as long. An intricate design was engraved on the gold of the cover, with different flowers, accompanied by a line of text around it you couldn't quite make out. It looked strangely familiar, to the point your stomach flipped a little at the first observation.

You clicked on the button at the top to open it. The inside was quite... normal: the usual arrows, lines and whatnots. Except that, while you weren't a navigator, you were grown up enough to know that one of the arrows wasn't pointing north at all. Which was too bad because it was the entire point of a compass. Must be broken.

It hits you when you close it, like a speeding truck, your reflection staring back at you through the engravings. You knew exactly where the sense of familiarity came from.

The compass you had in your hand was too alike, down to every points, to the one John B inherited from his dad in Outer Banks. The one that kickstarted the whole show.

Your jaw dropped open. Outer Banks wasn't filmed in the actual Outer Banks, that you knew, because they mainly shot in South Carolina. But you assumed some scenes must have taken place in North Caroline because you were pretty sure that what you had in your hands was an official prop - I mean, that's the only thing it could be, right? How would a random compass dropped in the sea could look so much like John B's? Maybe they lost it while filming a boat or sea scene and it got washed up by the tide, who knows.

You almost fell while hurrying to Arianne's office. Luckily, she seemed to be getting out at the same time. She stared you down as you stood in front of her, not uttering anything. You didn't even know what you were going to say. You just wanted to show her. "Are you okay? Do I have something in my tee- Sweet Jesus, did you break something?!" She immediately started walking to the alcove you just left.

You put yourself in her way. "No, no, I didn't break anything. I just- I found something."

"Something valuable?" She asked, an eager smile finding its way to her lips.

"Uh... depends on what you call valuable?"

"I mean monetary value. Cash. Something that can help me pay rent, baby."

You didn't answer. Instead, you showed her your hand.

The smile on Arianne's lips faltered almost immediately. If you were being honest, you'd think it's because it was only some piece of junk among other things for her ─ except that for you it wasn't. At all.

She carefully took it in her palm. "A... compass. Where did you find it?" The woman toyed with it as if it was made of glass.

"In the stuff you showed me." Arianne sighed. You didn't pay it any mind, choosing to continue. "Listen, it looks like an exact copy of the one in the TV show I'm always telling you about, y'know? I think it might be like, a lost prop or something and-"

You stopped abruptly when you saw Arianne's eyes. You were pretty perceptive of other's emotions and right now, it looked like everything in her world broke inside her eyes the moment you said your sentence. You stood there, awkwardly, as she was detailing you. Then the compass. You. The compass. "Uh... did I say something wrong?"

She snapped back to her normal self, as if on cue. "No, no baby absolutely not. I'm just... happy to see you this joyful. It doesn't happen a lot except for when you tell me about that show of yours."

This made the situation even more awkward for you. God, you hated when people said that: pitying you so openly. 'We know you're miserable but hey! At least sometimes you seem happy, it means you're on the way to be fixed!'. Like there was something to fix. Well, apparently there was, and it could be resolved in a two weeks trip.

You chose to push your thoughts aside with a shake of the head. Opening your mouth, you were getting ready to ask her about holding on to it, fueling your Netflix-induced obsession in the process. Arianne anticipated it.

"You can keep it." She hastily spoke, putting the compass back in your hand like it burnt her.

This time, you were the one looking at the compass then back at her. "Really?" You were stunned that Arianne, out of all people, would give away something from her shop that easily.

"Yeah. As a thanks for keeping an old lady company," her palm wrapped over yours, folding your fingers around the object. "For helping with the shop and organizing my stuff."

Her voice was tight with emotions for a reason unknown to you. You didn't think it was that big of a deal but apparently she did, so you kept quiet whispering a muted 'Thank you'.

Taking back her hand, Arianne stood up a little straighter. "Anyways, you've been back there a while now. Better get home before it gets too dark. You never know what happens in the street these days, and your mother might barge in and accuse me of kidnapping."

You fought the urge to tell her that she didn't care enough to do it. A good point she made, though, was that walking all alone as a tourist and as a woman in the middle of night somewhere you barely knew directions never lead to anything good. So, as she slapped the back of your legs with her cane, you hurried your steps toward the front doors, exchanging thanks and casualties, never forgetting to tell her you'll be back tomorrow.

Before you left though, she called for you. "Y/N? Just... be careful with an old thing like that. Most often they tend to pull you places, whether you're ready for it or not."

What? You frowned, confused, but her ominous words were heard by one ear and left by the other the second you stepped outside.

     You genuinely thought you knew the way from Arianne's Lost And Found Antique Shop to your house by heart.

Turns out you were miserable and arrogant. You were definitely lost. What a combo.

Maybe it was the setting darkness that confused you, the last fingers on sunlight warming up your bare arms as the cold night breeze slowly took over. The roads seemed to all look the same, the nightlife was surely taking on the bars and the dimly lit streets. You were starting to panic. Mainly because even though your parents wouldn't care much about you being gone, they would care about you coming back that late, through the kitchen window. You'd be in for a long, long monologue about irresponsability. Again.

Yeah, you didn't seem to be getting anywhere. Great. Amazing, even.

The compass you tied to the belt loop of your shorts prickled the skin underneath and the ghost of a grin appeared on your face. You had an actual prop from Outer Banks. How cool was that?

You carefully detached it, detailing it once again. The strange warmth from the metal seemed to spread from your palm to your fingertips, calling you to open it. Which you did like you were compelled to. Plus, it could eventually help you find some directions. Your AirBNB was probaly on the south-west or something like─

The arrow was definitely pointing south now.

You assumed it was broken earlier, it was stupid to think it would be magically fixed as soon as you stepped out of the store. You took a turn in another mystery street, trying to find any directions that could lead somewhere even a tiny bit familiar to you, eyes still fixated on the intricate drawings of the compass.

That was when the arrows shifted, gently, like they were pushed by the wind, to point the exact direction you strayed away from.

Your heart skipped beat. Acting on instinct and panic, you shook the compass - you didn't know why you did, actually, but it didn't change the fact the arrows wouldn't budge from the direction they shifted to. You walked a few, agonizingly slow, steps back, not to startle anyone that might... magically make the arrows move? Now you were overreacting.

Still, you stood on the exact spot where you pulled out the compass a few minutes ago and under your incredulous eyes, the arrows shifted again. When your head rose up from the tool to the environment around you they pointed to a little dirt road in front of you you hadn't seen before.

No other words could describe the situation other than creepy.

Your heart was hammering against your ribcage, dangerously threatening to burst out of it. The dark blue tint of the sky and the general silence of your surroundings didn't help your anxiety - or was it some sort of thrill? You didn't know. Nevertheless, the arrows pointed, taunting you by sitting motionless in their glass capsule.

You tentatively moved forward. You could've sworn for a second the little needles looked like they were trembling in agreement.

A part of you wanted to believe this weird compass that strangely looked like the one in your favorite TV show had a conscience of its own and was leading you to something. The other, more rational part of yourself was screaming about how delusional you sounded and that you should get home right now before getting jumped, mauled, assaulted or all three at the same time.

Except that what it called 'home' was a tiny house with a cracked yellow wallpaper and leaky sinks in which no one spoke to each other unless obligated to. Something your mom rented last minute without considering if you even wanted to go, still pretexting it was all for you. A blacked-out room and a screen that burnt your thighs due to overuse but the red scar it left felt more like love than the glances your parents threw your way. Four walls filled with a graveyard silence, you wished to scream into it sometimes but the voice just couldn't come out.

Seeking escapism from your own household, your own life, was what you did best. So you walked down that dirt road, an iron grip around the compass.

     You followed its lead desperately, panting like a dog. Each of your steps quickened until you were running ─ you didn't even know where you were anymore, your phone probably ran out of battery by now, your headphones were hanging on for dear life around your neck and your hair was carried by the speed in which you moved. You passed by small, rural houses, hurried through a somber forest and almost slipped into mud, nearly colliding with a night owl and blindly obeying the compass' lead.

Until you were faced with the shore.

Your feet, aching from the run, stopped when the soft texture of the amber sand bent under them. It took a while for your mind to catch up with your body, but when it finally did, the last breaths you had in your lungs got knocked out of them: the sky was now of a deep ink, filled with clear, bright stars ─ which means you were far away enough from the main city to see them properly. The only source of light was the full moon, reflecting on the never ending sea unraveling in front of you. The beach seemed to extend for a while as well, and the slow hum of the waves was all you could hear apart from your ragged breathing. It was calm. Peaceful.

You peeked at the compass in your hand, hoping something would finally happen. This place looked like finality. Something happened alright: It stopped pointing and the arrows were spinning in erratic circles.

You swiftly closed the compass, tying it to your belt loop once again. No reactions would come out of your body even if you seeked one, you were too worn out. Walking from the treeline to the seaside like an automat, you let yourself fall on your back upon the sand, the water brushing your shoes when the tide rose up.

The stars looked down on your near breathless body. Tormenting you with their enormitude, their meaning, their greatness.

With nothing else around you but the shore, it struck you just how empty you were.

You don't know when it all fell down, if there ever was a reason - many people told you, at first, that you didn't need a reason to feel the way you did. That was when you tried to talk about it. But this thing inside of you, this black hole, relentless, just took more amplor as time went by. Sucking in everything inside of it. It lasted, and because of that you were now messy, lazy, disorganized. You couldn't take showers for weeks, you hadn't brushed your teeth in months, you wore the same clothes and didn't feel anything strongly enough to cry about it. You didn't have a reason, it made you selfish.

You didn't know if you were. You didn't know anything except the fact you didn't. Plato would be proud.

You gradually fell out of everything: you had hobbies, you had passions, you had people you could somewhat call friends, you had plans for the future until you simply didn't.

At first you tried to blame your parents. You tried to be angry at them, to yell and accuse: it came out in a whisper. You tried to gain their affection, their love, their care but how could you crave something you never experienced? You attempted to make them the perpetrators of the barrenness of your being but the trust was as simple as that: you were the only one guilty for letting the black hole grow until you became one with it.

You tried to kill yourself to see if it would do something interesting to your body.

You were just so numb, and nothing was holding you back, was it? Your grades were dwindling at a dizzying speed, crushing the chances to get into the college you used to dream about when you still went to school, your parents hadn't talked to you in three days, you missed your therapist appointments for a month. If you died, maybe something would finally jolt you back to life. The pills went down your throat so easily. You sat in your full bathtub, letting the splashes of water serenade you to Morpheus' arms.

After that everything was kind of a blur. You don't remember much of the hospital, the drive back home. Everything just fell back into place. You were still a painfully empty shell, only with one more story to tell.

Your therapist prescribed you those improvised vacations for this specific reason: to change your mind about being alive. The thing was you didn't want to die, but you weren't that attached to life either - you just were. Apparently it wasn't enough. It never was.

Dr. Sullivan, your therapist, told you this was why you grew so dependant to fiction. They did all the things you were scared to do: they fell in love in a mess of tears and hearbreak, they screamed until their throats gave out, they hated so brightly and cried so ugly. They lived and you didn't. You felt safe in the hollow. Untouched, unharmed. And you searched an exit sign.

She was wrong about that. About most things, really, you stopped listening to her a while ago. You didn't feel safe in the desolation, you were safe. You didn't hunt for an out, you've gotten used to it, why would you put yourself through the hardship of changing something so stable? The vacantness grew comfortable. It was just you, now. The endless black hole.

A cold tear fell down your cheek onto the sand. It was something that often happened: your body translated emotions your heart and guts didn't communicate to you. Unless it activated your fight-or-flight response, you automatically tried to push it down.

You would wipe it away but the run pumped you all out of strength: every muscles in your body implored for you to leave them alone, your mind was too exhausted to form coherent thoughts, let alone words, and your eyelids grew heavy and solid as rocks. You'd worry about the consequences of your action tomorrow morning. Even if, deep down, you knew no one concerned themselves enough with you for you to actually have an effect on the world.

The sound of the waves, growing more and more intense, coaxed you to sleep like a familiar lullaby. The feeling of the salt water brushing against your fingertips took the role of a blanket, if not a shield, against the rest of the world.

And just like that, you were gone.

[seonghwaddict]

★ NEVER SAY NEVER. [ 004 ] rotten lemons.

synopsis. something about the eight most well-known boys of your campus just didn't sit right with you, so you never gave any effort to interact with them. but after a series of... interesting incidents, they can't seem to leave you alone. pairing. college students! vampires! ot8! ateez x fem! reader. genre. fluff, angst, eventual smut, college au, vampire au. chapter warnings. blood drinking. word count. 1.7k

　　　　　　　　chapter iii // chapter iv // chapter v

Seonghwa, Yunho and Wooyoung returned to the house at around four in the morning, each carrying two crates. As soon as they stepped through the door, they were greeted by Hongjoong as he made his way down the stairs, blue tufts of hair bouncing on his head.

“How’d it go?” He asked over his shoulder as they followed him into the kitchen and dropped her crates on the countertop.

Seonghwa shrugged and opened the first crate as Wooyoung and Yunho moved to the living room. “The usual. The prices went up though, 300 thousand per five bags.”

With an understanding nod, Hongjoong took a seat on one of the island stools. He reached for a different crate and pulled it towards him, looking through it before pulling out a translucent white bag, a thick red liquid swishing around inside. After taking a look at the label, he snapped his fingers. A thin wine glass appeared on the counter and it didn’t take him too long to open the bag and pour its contents in the cup.

“Did you get some O neg for San? He said he’s running out,” he asked after taking a refreshing sip.

“Yeah, probably enough to keep him satisfied for a few months.”

While they were quite open to drinking any type of blood, they had preferences. Some of them preferred sweeter tastes (usually O or B-type blood as they taste somewhat like the sweetness you’d get from honey) and others preferred more sour tastes (such as A-type blood, a taste that resembled the slight sourness you’d get from a cherry). However, with San, he’d always been in a bit of a tricky situation…

O-type blood, specifically of the negative sort, is considered one of the rarer types of blood. The demand for it can get pretty high, which in turn also makes prices hike up quite a bit. Typically blood vendors wouldn’t have a lot of O-negative stocked which can sometimes be a bit concerning. Especially because that’s the only blood type that San’s body can process.

But, fortunately, they didn’t have to worry about that too much since their go-to vendor always had some of that prestigious type.

Around the country, there were different vendors for blood bags—blood-banks. Unfortunately, the closest one to their house was a 2-hour drive, so it was inconvenient to constantly go and come back with the bare minimum amount they would need for a week. Usually, the bags get stocked and sold to vampires and after a month, anything that wasn’t sold would be donated to local hospitals on behalf of a ‘private blood donation organisation.’

Of course, many vampires preferred to get blood directly from the source (A.K.A. suck it out of people’s necks themselves), since it had a sweeter, fresher taste. But, alas, this was also too inconvenient for the boys living in this lavish mansion. They’d have to consider too many things before sucking the blood directly from a human, so they opted for just buying it in bags.

“That’s more than enough I think.” Hongjoong swirled the blood in the glass one more time before downing the rest of it and wiping the excess on his chin with the back of his hand. “Thank you.”

Once Seonghwa finished moving all the blood bags to the fridge, the two men moved to the living room and joined the rest of their cluster mates. San, Mingi and Yeosang were playing some video game on the TV; Jongho sat in an armchair and read a book, occasionally glancing to see how the game was going; Wooyoung sat on the ground with his head in San’s lap and Yunho sat cross-legged on the couch, narrating the game like a football narrator.

“Yeosangie, did Y/N get home safe?” Wooyoung asked as the round ended and Yeosang passed his controller to Yunho. A fond smile stretched itself onto the blond’s face as he nodded gently, thinking back to the way you had slept so peacefully in his car, light snores filling the silence of the vehicle.

“Who’s Y/N?” San asked, tilting his head down to look at Wooyoung.

“She’s an art student. We were each paired with one to work on a project. She actually came over here a few hours ago so we could start working a bit,” he explained. “I like her, she’s very pretty. A bit stubborn though, I almost had to fight her because we couldn’t agree on something. But I don’t think she’s very fond of me.” He concluded with a pout.

“Jongho also met her before, more or less,” Yeosang added, looking at the youngest as he shifted in his chair, “she works at that bookstore that you go to sometimes.”

The theatre student in question looked up, blinking at the ceiling and tilting his head as he tried to remember. He grimaced “The one that smells like a rotten lemon?”

“No,” Yeosang was quick to deny, not wanting any of the men that hadn’t met her to get the wrong impression. “The one that smells delicious.”

They talked about you for another ten minutes, Wooyoung recounting his experience working with you and Yeosang explained how you two had met. His brothers poked some fun at him, making it sound like he’d fallen head over heels for the girl that regularly ordered an iced latte with triple sugar. He swatted their teasing comments away but blushed the shade of Jongho’s hair when Wooyoung mentioned he’d seen some sketches in her sketchbook that looked an awful lot like him.

“If he liked her I wouldn’t really blame him,” Seonghwa had laughed, perfectly straight white teeth on display. “She’s intriguing.”

So, yeah, they all agreed there was something interesting about you. The ones that hadn’t met you tried coming up with ways to meet you, and the ones that had tried coming up with ways to meet you again. All the while Wooyoung giggled, knowing he’d have to spend the most time with you and loving the fact he could rub it into everyone’s faces.

But, for now, they wanted to spend their weekend relaxing and being lazy without constantly thinking about some cute girl. (That was a lie. Even though they would deny it, Wooyoung couldn’t deny the way his mind wandered to you every hour, wondering what you were up to; Seonghwa thought of you every time he stepped into the kitchen and if he concentrated hard enough—which he did for a single reason—he was sure he could still smell your sweet vanilla aroma wafting through the air; Jongho worked his way through his books faster so he could go to your book store and Yeosang spent his day at work hoping you’d walk through the door.)

You didn’t really question it, but were still mildly confused, when you walked out of the art studio the next Monday and saw Wooyoung standing against the wall, waiting for you. Students ogled as they passed by him and some talked and laughed extra loudly to get his attention, but his eyes remained on you.

Approaching him, you raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

“Picking you up, obviously.” He rolled his eyes playfully, reaching for your hand and dragging you out of the building. “I had another idea. I want to be able to do more for this project, so I’m going to choreograph and film a dance that we could maybe display at the exhibition with, like, a projector or something. You know, so we both contribute to this—equally. How does that sound?”

When he stopped and turned around to face you, he had to stop himself from cooing at your face as you thought. Your face was directed at him but your eyes looked unfocused, lower lip caught between your teeth as you tried to visualise his idea. Finally, you gave an approving hum and nod.

“That actually doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea,” you nodded as he resumed leading you to wherever it is he wanted to go. “Maybe the paintings could be based on pieces of your choreography.”

“Yeah, that’s also a great idea!” He cheered enthusiastically, a bright smile different from the usual mischievous one you see plastered on his lips. “Oh, also!” He stopped again as he remembered something, tugging on the hand that he still held within his colder one to get you to face him. “We’re gonna be hosting a party, you should come!”

Now that was something a bit harder for you to agree with.

“Oh, I don’t know…” The insecurity in your face dwindled as your words trailed off. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“Please, Y/N, just this once.” He gave you his best puppy eyes and pleading voice. “The rest of the guys want to meet you, and what better place than a party where you can let loose?”

You decided it was a tempting proposal. After a long, torturing pause, you finally sighed, “Fine. When is it?”

Excitement lit up on Wooyoung’s face and you could’ve sworn his brown eyes nearly started sparkling. “We were planning on Saturday, but we haven’t made the announcement yet so we could always change it if you want.”

The pure joy he felt faltered for a second as your face fell.

“I’m not available on Saturdays, so Friday or Sunday would work better for me if that’s ok.”

Instantly, he began nodding. “Yeah, we could do it on Friday. What do you do on Saturdays, if cou don’t mind me asking?”

Ah, shit. I did not think this far ahead. You smacked yourself mentally, scrambling to come up with a plausible excuse. If he found your hesitation suspicious, he didn’t say anything about it as he awaited your answer. Instead, he watched with interest, loosely swinging your conjoined hands from side to side.

“Oh, you know. I study and catch up on all the sleep I usually miss.”

Wooyoung narrowed his eyes at you, lips pursed and a contemplative hum ringing from him until he nodded and resumed his walk once again. “Okay. I’ll send you the address later, it won’t be at our house—last time someone broke the chandelier.”

“What chandelier?” Your brows furrowed as you briefly looked up to him. It was then that you realised he was still holding your hand, so as discreetly as possible, you tugged on it and hoped he would get the hint.

“Exactly.”

After a few more tugs it seemed like he finally noticed, his grip loosened and you were able to slip your hand out.

“Do you have any classes for the rest of the day?”

You shook your head after trying and succeeding to remember your schedule. “No, why?”

“Great, let’s go eat!”

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] this one's a bit short. i'm not really amazing at writing scenes that involve more than 4 people, but i've been getting better i think so it should be fine. we finally got some vampteez content in this chapter, hope y'all like that.

　　ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ taglist ... @atinytinaa @marievllr-abg @legohwas @moonsangie @kiss-hwa @cqndiedcherries @ateezourstars @kitty4hwa @hyukssunflower @aestheticsluut @neohyxn @mrowwww  @darkdayelixer @itsokaytobedumb00 @hwa-sans @purplelady85 @meginthebuilding27 @stopeatread @mothworked @foliea @euphoric-emily16 @teezers99 @mulletjoonsupremacy @imalildelulu @sunukissed @blehhhidk @ad0rechuu @d1am0ndw0lfxd @strawberry-moonpies @bluehwale-main @lightinythedark @stupefystudies @yandere-stories @skz-enthusiasttt @seongwin @huachengsbestie01 @galaxypox @seongwin @yuyunhoo @kyukyustar @seongfury @moonminji @lilactangerine @lelaleleb ​​@asjkdk @honey-lemon-goose

　　NEVER SAY NEVER　©　seonghwaddict, 2023

[fantasy-nerdddd]

The rooftop scene(s)

Today I'll talk about the rooftop scenes. Mainly the first one, from The Hunger Games, but a bit of both. Both of them are quite passable at first, but mean a lot, each in their own way.

In Catching Fire, Chapter 11, Peeta says to Katniss while working on the plant book: "You know, I think this is the first time we've done something normal together." Well, the rooftop scene is the first time they have done anything fun together. Not drawing some plants, not staring at each other's eyelashes (cough cough KATNISS YOU THIRSTY LITTLE GIRL), two teenagers laughing and having fun together just days before they need to go into an arena and kill each other. So rebellious, having fun with your opponent and getting closer before the games, just behind using CPR in the arena. Also, it is the first insight that there's something more going on. Because for Effie to not to train Katniss on walking on heels, it means that Katniss won't need the sponsors.

The first rooftop scene... Well there's two more? I think? The first one is in a garden, however the garden is still on the rooftop so I'll count it. I think these scenes played a big role later. And I also think they are proof that Snow had bugged the rooftop, too. Lavinia was only acknowledged by Peeta in two moments. One, where he covered for Katniss and said that she was Delly Cartwright. That was for just a moment, and for all Snow knows, it wasn't even a lie. And when Katniss explained to him how she knew her. That Katniss didn't protect her. And I think Peeta seeing the girl Katniss couldn't protect being brutally killed, might have helped with the hijacking later on, because it would prove in his mind that Katniss just didn't care about any life, or even worse wanted to see suffering, and that she was heartless towards everyone, not just him. He'd think that anyways, but seeing Lavinia die in the hands of the Capitol just underlined this.

And of course, the elephant in the room... The "I don't want to be another piece in their Games" rooftop scene. Firstly, even though Katniss is the unreliable narrator that she is, we can clearly see Peeta's true character in that scene, if we are not too caught up in Katniss' thoughts and can consider the possibility that Peeta isn't lying. That he values self-awareness, agency and staying true to yourself. Personally, that made me love him even more, wanting to resist the corruption. And of course, that makes his character arc even more tragic. That he became exactly what he resented. A piece in their Games, a monster he's not. And that is another reason I think Snow was watching them the entire time. Snow could have known from the Games that Peeta was against violence. That he adored Katniss. That he'd do anything to save her. But he couldn't have known that Peeta's dying wish was to stay true to himself. Not to be changed by the horrors of the Capitol. He couldn't know that Peeta would absolutely resent himself once he was lucid enough to realise what was going on. And also, yeah I am going to add that this scene might be my favourite foreshadowing of all time. I don't know if Suzanne had planned it all along, she probably didbut I like to think that she didn't, and instead her decision to hijack Peeta went like this:

Suzanne, rereading her own book: I'm stuck. What could I possibly do that will move the plot forward? But doesn't seem cheap? No, I have to reuse an idea. It'd be out of place to just invent facts about Panem. Wait a minute. I could turn a fan favourite (and Katniss favourite) character into an insane 17 y/o so that Katniss will be desperate for revenge and the story has a bit more Angst. The readers will hate me and I don't give a shit

Or maybe

Editor: The love triangle isn't working.

Suzanne: I know. I have expressed my opinion towards the love triangle

Editor: Yes, but it sells more. And you cannot just abandon the idea.

Suzanne: Who says that Katniss can't choose her own boyfriend in the middle of the book and not the end

Editor: Listen... There's still a lot people who like Gale. You can have anyone win her. In fact, I would advise you to stick with Peeta. But the idea of a romance between Gale and Katniss has to have a satisfying ending. So no one can doubt Katniss' decision. But it also needs to feel like a hard choice. Or maybe make it impossible to choose between them anytime before the end.

Suzanne: What if I make Gale kill Prim?

Editor: Wha-

Suzanne: And make him unfathomably annoying the entire book and have him become a violent b*itch because of the war.

Editor: What's preventing Katniss to choose-

Suzanne: What if I make Peeta go insane?

Editor: What!?

Suzanne: What if I make him go insane? He's already in the Capitol, it wouldn't be a hard feat

Editor: But then Katniss couldn't choose either of them!

Suzanne: Not permanently, idiot! You know I have a weakness for Peeta.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Hi! That talk ab what does and doesn't fit in ur personal canon (idk if that's the right word for it?) made me realize that I don't think I've ever seen you talk about Sandy on here! I lowkey forgot she was a character lmao. Where does she fit for you? (Does she fit? And if she does, could u give us some hcs on what you think her relationship with Soda was like?)

HI! Omg ok, this might be kind of long because I have LOTS of thoughts!

So in my head I have two sort of versions of my personal canon, and one is what I think actually would align with canon, and one is what I wish/gaslight myself into believing would work in canon.

I will say that I don't like Sandy as a character- but then again, as readers we're not supposed to. That said, I think she's an important character, and the fandom trashes and discredits her without really thinking about a) what she adds to the story, b) how realistic and common her plight of an unplanned teenage pregnancy that occured out of wedlock in the 60s was and what the consequences for her would be, c) keeping the last point in mind, how decent of her it was to not lie to Soda about the kid being his and to not accept his proposal when he insisted he didn't care (keep in mind that canonically Soda was so in love he was willing to marry her anyway). In a sense it can be argued that Sandy saved Soda in a way, or at least saved his future. I'm not saying she's a great person, of course she isn't but she cared enough about Soda to tell him the truth and not to trap him in a marriage with a baby that wasn't his when that was an option and her alternatives weren't great (the book says she went to stay with an aunt in Kansas or something- whether you believe thats actually where she ended up or not is up to you, personally I think it's likely she ended up in a religious led birthing house where she gave birth and the baby was taken away from her and adopted out, or alternatively kept her baby and lived as a social pariah while her child was looked down on for being a bastard) . I think too that it's important to keep in mind that Ponyboy's narration- PARTICULARLY about his views and portrayal of Soda- is biased. Ponyboy is fourteen. He and Soda are close, and he knew Soda loved Sandy but he clearly didn't have a good understanding of their relationship (for all we know, Soda and Sandy could have been going through a rough patch) and Soda may have loved her but might not have been a great boyfriend (we know Ponyboy puts him on a pedestal). Again, I'm not trying to excuse cheating, but Sandy is a character who was in a really tough situation and did the best she could considering, and I think people like to hate on her because they like to pretend that teen pregnancy isn't a real and prevalent issue in underprivelidged communities (and because Hinton's writing shows a lot of internalized misogyny but that's a rant for a different post) because it takes some of the 'fun' out of the greaser world- but Sandy is an important character because she forces readers to acknowledge that hard truth, and sit with it, and be uncomfortable, even if they hate her. It's interesting too, because Steve says that Sandy either had to go to kansas and dissapear or get married and her parents wouldn't let her marry a seventeen year old kid. But Sandy herself was a seventeen year old kid. Yes, it's good Soda didn't end up marrying her, but it's bleak that that was even considered as an option for her. Marriage at seventeen- even if she (and her parents) did accept Soda is a huge commitment, and likely would have ended with them resnting each other and living life barely making ends meet. To me, it's likely had Soda and Sandy ended up together, that they would have turned into Two-bit's parents (one ran off, one working to death) or Steve's (cyclically resentful, violent, and remorseful by turns). To me, the whole Sandy situation was a shallow echo of showing cycles of poverty and abuse in a novel that is so preoccupied with conflicts taking place in the moment. So yeah, I don't particularly like Sandy, but I think she is an incredibly important character in the novel, and I wish we'd got at least one scene with her actually present- then again, hearing about the whole issue through Ponyboy who hears it secondhand is an important framing device for how we see and interpret her character, and an interesting narrative choice. (Rant over lol)

In my fun little universe that I wish was canon, Stevepop is a thing, but Soda only realizes his feelings for Steve once his relationship with Sandy ends. In this universe, things go down the same way, but Sandy was never as interested in Soda as she feels she SHOULD have been, so she tried to force herself to like him and it just didn't work, and she ended up cheating as a way to ensure things would end and she'd have a good excuse, because Soda was always willing to talk through fights and if she broke up with him without a reason people would think she was crazy. At the time, Steve and Evie were an item, butweren't actually into each other (I will push my Steve and Evie as each others beards agenda until the day I die, because Steve is gay and Evie is aroace even though she didn't have terminology for that in the 60s, and they cared about each other.) ANYWAY in my canon, Sandy goes to Kansas and Steve and Soda figure their shit out, and Evie is so happy for Steve and offers to keep fake dating him so he and Soda can avoid suspicion, but Steve says no thanks so they stage a super elaborate breakup mid class one day because neither of them studied for the history test and this was as good a strategy as any to get out of it. Once Evie storms out of the class in fake tears, she calls Sandy (because that girl is still her friend and Evie doesn't turn her back on friends) and find out Sandy had a miscarriage, but she's found a job as a hairdresser in Kansas and she doesn't want to return to Tulsa and the rumours she know will follow her around, but she's as happy as she can be given the circumstances. Evie gives her updates on the town gossip, and promises to visit if she gets a chance. Sandy doesn't ask about Soda and Evie doesn't bring him up, and there's a silent consensus that they never will. Meanwhile, Soda hardly thinks about her at all anymore except with an occasional bittersweet smile that Steve knwos from a mile away and also knows how to distract Soda so that he isn't think of hher anymore. In the end, Sandy is just someone Soda used to know, and Soda is a stranger Sandy met once. The end.

[forthegothicheroine]

What do you think makes a story "adult" or "mature"?

Seriously, though, there isn't a hard and fast line, but it seems to have three distinct meanings:

Marketing. My favorite Kelly Link story collection, Pretty Monsters, is shelved as YA because it's the ones with teenage protagonists. The stories also show up in her "adult" collections, there is no actual difference.

Euphemistic. Sex, gore, graphic jokes about the above, something parents might not want their kids to see (reasonably or otherwise.)

Complexity. This is the fuzziest line yet, but I think it still has meaning. Books for children just learning to read will probably have short words and simple storylines, stories for teens might have an emphasis on page turner action, stories for adults might have more ambiguous morality or experimental style. "Might" is obviously a strong word here- you can argue if The Da Vinci Code is more "adult" than The Little Prince- but that is often what people mean when they say it.

When people urge others to read more books for adults (in good faith, that is) what they are probably encouraging is reading books that make you think, or even make you uncomfortable, and that you may find that a rewarding experience.

I read A Clockwork Orange as a teenager; a pedant might argue that it's YA since the protagonist is 14, but I think most people would call it adult. The first hurdle for me was the language, as the book is written in a made-up futuristic slang blending Cockney and Russian, and the English-speaking reader has to make an active effort to figure out what Alex the narrator is saying based on context. The next hurdle is reacting to what he's saying, which turns out to be pretty fucked up. "Wait, what's he saying? Oh, he's saying that. Wait, he's saying what?!"

I overcame those hurdles first because I was curious- something big and exciting was waiting for me behind that locked door, I just knew it!- and then because I was compelled- Alex is a monster, but his experiences were changing him, and I had to hear him talk about it (especially in the controversial last chapter, which didn't make it into the movie.) A Clockwork Orange may not be the right book for everyone, but that's my go-to example of a book that demanded more of me than was expected of my age bracket, and which rewarded me for my effort.

[kenphobia]

may I ask some frank x eddie but if you don't write about character x character can make poly relationship headcanon with male reader?

happy late or early b-day btw 👍

A CARD OF LOVERS!

"Alex play butterfly by smile.dk."

summary. it wasn't a secret that frank and eddie are the fruitest fruits in town, but what if we add another one in that bowl? (headcanons. read author's note at the end)

contents. absolute fluff, possibly ooc, separated headcanons (one for chr x chr, one for chr x reader x chr), polyamorous relationship, easter eggs from other welcome home fics

FRANK X EDDIE!

✦ Frank and Eddie, two completely opposites in personality and even so, they make a strangely good and iconic duo. They'd say that they never see them becoming lovers but that would be a terrible lie. They were the most fruitest— pardon my french —motherfuckers in the neighborhood.

✦ Now, Frank and Eddie are both independent and secretive people. Having to live on their own for a long time caused them to become a bit recluse and prefer to do things on their own rather than trusting people to help them. It was a bit rocky at first, having to navigate the simplest things like who gets to cook for dinner and which chores would the other do, but they managed in the end.

✦ The two of them even made a timetable for what chores they'll do each day and made a promise not to get in each other's way when the other is busy.

✦ Now, Eddie was sweet, a bit too sweet for Frank's own liking. It took a while for the monotonous puppet to get used to getting random hugs and kisses throughout the day, even the short love letters stuck on the fridge with the heart magnets on them became a normal occurence for him.

As Frank put another pancake down on his lover plate, He felt a pair of large, soft arms suddenly wrapping around his waist. He shivered at the hot breath caressing his cheeks as Eddie leaned against his slender form, hiding his face in the crook of Frank's neck.

Frank sighed, smiling softly. "Good morning, Eddie." He patted his lover's hand, signalling him to let go. Eddie didn't follow and only hugged him tighter, mumbling something under his breath.

"I love you too, Eddie. But can I get my waist back?" Frank patted his hand again.

"Mm... No."

✦ Frank was never the one for physical touch. Not that he didn't like it, no, but he was too stiff, too awkward to even initiate the simplest hand-holding, so he opts for the alternative: quality time and gift-giving. Little handcrafted butterfly pins and accessories aligned Eddie's bag strap and hat; matching custom-made rings on both of their hands; and countless papers of written down date ideas filled Frank's binders— that was Frank's idea of affection and Eddie loved it.

✦ Whenever Eddie comes across someone, he'd flex all of the wonderful handmade crafts Frank made for him, flaunting the ring in front of any neighbors that tried flirting with him. It made Frank's plush heart swell, nearly punching air when Eddie refers to him as his husband.

✦ Both of Eddie and Frank are incredible fans of nature, so their dates consist of walks in the woods, picnics and such. They're always rarring to go and be one with nature just for a while, but they try not to stray too far from the town because, well, there isn't much that lies beyond their little circle.

✦ Although, when the days are getting colder or when it's almost impossible to go outside, they'd huddle up on the couch and Eddie would narrate one of Frank's or his favorite books. Sometimes, they'd watch TV but there isn't anything worth watching on it.

✦ Even though they have seperate cooking days, one of them is bound to assisting the other in cooking. Eddie would turn on the radio and have Frank indulge in a little dance break while the cookies bake in the oven.

"You look quite divine tonight," Eddie sang along the tune of the radio, holding Frank's hand in his own as he twirled him around the kitchen isle. "Here among these vibrant lights!"

Frank yelped, eyes widening for a second as Eddie dipped him, his grip on the monotonous puppet's waist was firm but gentle. Frank took a breath, smelling the vanilla and jasmine scent on Eddie's shirt as the latter pulled him up. "How charming." Frank commented, rolling his eyes.

Eddie smiled, pecking a tender kiss on the corner of Frank's lips. "I know I am." He boasted, his collars was tugged and his lips crashed on Frank's, he could taste the bittersweet chocolate he had given to his husband (Although they weren't actually married, but gays will be gays).

As they pulled away, both of them had blazing red faces, warmth seeping to their fingertips and cheeks. Frank lets go, slapping his palms on his face. "Gosh, that was so embarrassing." He groaned into his hands.

It took some time for Eddie to snap out of the kiss before wrapping his arms around Frank, grinning and swooning like a teenage girl who just had her first kiss. "Aww, I didn't know you had that in you, Frankie!!"

"Eddie, please—"

✦ Random, unprecedented thought: Eddie would definitely call Frank 'My little butterfly' and sing that song we all used to hear from our plastic barbie filp phones whenever Eddie's in a fun, little mood. The reason is, as always, up to the reader's interpretations <3

FRANK X READER X EDDIE!

✦ Eddie and Frank are new to relationships, having little to no exprience in such things and you might as well be the same. If you have some experience— especially in polyamorous relationships —then, you can bet the two of them will mostly likely turn to you when situations regarding it arise.

✦ Like any relationship, communication is key, and Eddie and Frank are more than just willing to try polyamorous a try. There isn't exactly a reason why they were drawn to you, perhaps it's because of your personality, your skills or whatee, but you caught their eye and there is no way in Satan's living quarters you're escaping them.

✦ But of course, if you aren't sure with the whole situation, they'll give you some space and time to think about it. No matter what your choice is, they'll understand you and respect your decisions. Strange since literal puppets have more decency than most humans, but oh well.

✦ They'll also walk you through their schedule. Frank does more of the talking while Eddie sometimes comments and adds a few things that Frank forgot to mention. In the end, the schedule didn't matter much since all of you put equal work and often assist each other in their chores.

✦ Sleepovers aren't uncommon, in fact it happens almost every day of the week! You guys stay at either Frank's or your house, huddled up on a bed that's conveniently large enough for all three of you. Sometimes, you guys chose to set up a cute pillow fort and sleep there in peace until one of you kicks the supporting pillow and it all crashes down on you.

✦ Frank is surprisingly a messy sleeper.

✦ You guys get to have individual dates, of course! But the guilt of leaving one of you behind consumes you just a minute before your date, so it ends up with just all three.

✦ Frank loves to flaunt off his collection to you, feeling a sense of pride swelling in his chest whenever you compliment the crafted butterflies he carefully painted and organized for many straining hours or appreciate his intensive knowledge on insects. Sometimes, you two just spend bouncing mindless information you have consumed on hours without end until something or somwone interrupts your little session.

"And this one!" Frank pointed to a page on his book, more specifically an picture of a butterfly with bright orange wings and black vein-like patterns. "This one is a monarch butterfly. Scientists calls them Danaus plexippus, which in Greek literally means "sleepy transformation." It references the species' ability to hibernate and metamorphize. It's not exactly my favorite species of butterfly, but they are interesting."

"I suppose so, yeah." You nodded, having your head supported by your hands as you leaned closer to get a better view at the image. You, then, thought deeply and nugged Frank's arm for his attention. "Say, why don't we go out to the forest and search for some? I heard from a little star that there's a hotspot for colorful butterflies."

Frank raised a brow, his interest piqued. "Hm, I suppose we can go only if we invite Eddie. He has a better sense of direction than I am so..."

You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing full well that he wanted to bring the sweet mailman along was because he feels guilty of leaving him behind. "Whatever you say, my little butterfly."

"(Name), please. Not you too."

✦ On the other hand, Eddie enjoys taking you on walks, especially on days where you're stressed and need some relaxation. He also enjoys talking with you over some good lunch, sharing his experiences with you as a mailman. Eddie is a touchy person, so he also likes to spend his time with you cuddling. He's the big spoon most of the time but he loves being little spoon, he wouldn't admit it though.

"Wait, wait, wait!" You paused Eddie's little tangent, your brain processing the story he ahd told you before he went on about the history of mailboxes. "They managed to pull out Julie's mailbox and dragged it all the way to the pond?"

Eddie chuckled, pulling you closer to his figure. You can feel vibrations coming from his chest as he laughed. "Yeah! It sounds unreal but if you take a look at the dirt near Julie's place, it looks like something was dugged up and then buried again."

"Dear lord, what kind of food are they eating?" You shivered at your own visual interpretation of the scenario. Must be distraughting for Julie and her poor mailbox.

"A dozen of eggs, at least." Eddie shrugged, his entire being melting into the sofa. At this point, you can consider him a part of it from how soft and warm his arms feel.

A moment of silence pass before you finally spoke up to break it. "Anyways, wanna be little spoon and continue your story?"

"Yes please!"

author's note. hi hii!!! tysm for requesting, i hope this is okay <33 i'm not well versed with Eddie's character but I do know a bit of Frank since weirdly enough, i kin him. but ty for the birthday greeting!! my birthday was actually 2 months ago (feb 3) but even so, i appreciate it :DD

i also have another frank x reader x eddie coming up but yandere 👀 so be on a look for that!! anyways— likes, reblogs, etc are appreciated! my inbox is always open, so feel free to request or just drop by <33

[olderthannetfic]

Secret confession that I'm sending here because the fandom for this book is absolutely insane: I didn't like The Secret History.

Donna Tartt has an enviable vocabulary, but that's about it. I didn't get where the plot was going (rich people be rich? Or bored and in need of secret hobbies that turn destructive but for which they'll never pay the consequences of because they're rich? Academia can be elitist?), nor why I should've cared for any of them (and I'm someone who is perfectly able to care for villains and annoying characters both).

It just felt like it kept going on and on and on ad nauseam but without offering anything interesting to make up for it. In fact, the most interesting bits are later on told to the narrator through pages-long monologues.

And I get that we're supposed to be suspicious of everything the narrator is telling us, because he's a mischievous little shit, but we are also never given any kind of glimpse of the truth. Like, Lolita's Humbert Humbert is an unreliable narrator too, but Nabokov still gives his readers little signs that ensure that the reader knows all he's saying is bullshit (in the scene in which he first assaults Dolores, Humbert mentions "a wincing child" amidst all the poetic descriptions of the event, and later on mentions that Dolores cries herself to sleep every night).

I didn't get the same from Richard: he seems to come off more as a bit of a bumbling idiot who doesn't notice his surroundings and is then surprised by everything, but because the author is dead set on having a smart protagonist, she then spends five pages telling us that yes, indeed he noticed this thing when it happened and had very deep thoughts about it! He just didn't pay any mind to it and therefore they didn't make it into the book at the right time!

Maybe I'm just dumb, I don't know.

--

Honestly, I've never read it, so I couldn't say.

But books are often popular without being good or good without being to everyone's taste. I wouldn't read too much into that.

Regardless of the book's actual merits (which may be many—I wouldn't know), its popularity these days is very much a Dark Academia #aesthetic thing, so that's another facet here.

[thesilverlady]

Were Alicent and Helaena loved by the Smallfolk?

they weren't hated by all means but loved is an exaggeration and new readers love nothing more than gasping straws. Here's my reasoning:

First and only mention of Alicent being "loved" by the smallfolk as far as I recall was when when she crowned her daughter

"Queen Alicent, beloved of the smallfolk, placed her own crown upon the head of her daughter, Helaena, Aegon’s wife and sister. After kissing her cheeks, the mother knelt before the daughter, bowed her head, and said, “My Queen.”

f&b claim characters like Baelon the Brave, Alicent, Helaena, etc to have been “beloved by the smallfolk” then never explain WHY they were beloved by the smallfolk. This is why I think the only person in f&b that was truly loved by the smallfolk was Alysanne because she actually did shit and and the maesters who were fond of her in later years (as she embraced the faith) wrote for her kindly.

For Alicent, the whole "beloved by the smallfolk" was really just a passing compliment. Had she done a single thing to have evoke worship for them the maesters wouldn't have missed the chance to mention it. In my opinion she was probably passive, so they had nothing to add about it, plus a new queen was to be crowned and attention was shifted on building up Helaena's image for the history books.

Now onto Helaena:

“Though plumper and less striking than most Targaryens, Helaena was a pleasant, happy girl, and all agreed she would make a fine mother.”

^ this is all we know about her. I can buy that she was probably in higher opinion of common born because of the pleasant attitude but to say she was loved by them is again a stretch. The claim only comes because of how the events of the war are narrated - which brings me to the next important thing; how you view the maesters affects how you read every single event from the story.

I've mentioned in the past than I'm very much a maester conspiracy truther for the whole asoiaf verse, and while I don't think everything the maesters mention in f&b is a straight up lie it's obvious to me their wording is carefully chosen to paint a favoring narrative.

I'm in humanities studies; so examining philosophical, religious, political texts and catching propaganda is something I've been very used to hence my attitude towards the maesters in asoiaf/f&b - they're a manipulative organization that seeks power and control. They've been on top for many years once upon a time and they want to go back to those golden days.

Back to Helaena though, since I didn't finish, it's important tor remind that the smallfolk never saw Helaena after b&c, it's once again the maesters who simply tells us about their supposed feelings:

"That it was so quickly believed shows how utterly the city had turned against their once-beloved queen. Rhaenyra was hated; Helaena had been loved. Nor had the common folk of the city forgotten the cruel murder of Prince Jaehaerys by Blood and Cheese, and the terrible death of Prince Maelor at Bitterbridge."

here's few contradictory to this statement:

"Rhaenyra was hated" Yet the maesters earlier confirmed the people in King's Landing cheered when she took over the city.

"Helaena was loved" again makes no mention as to why she loved; what good deeds did she do for them? Why not mention them? simply because they don't exist. Anyone the maesters like is 'beloved' by the smallfolk

"Common folk hadn't forgotten the terrible death of Prince Maelor" Guess who did the terrible death of Prince Maelor? ding ding the common folk.

To highlight the obvious biased, let me include Rhaenyra's reaction to Prince Maelor:

To highlight Mushroom, who loved the queen well, tells us that Rhaenyra wept when Maelor’s small head was placed before her as she sat the Iron Throne. Septon Eustace, who loved her little, says rather that she smiled, and commanded that the head be burned, “for he was the blood of the dragon.”

Do i really need to say it? It's clearly stated: one loved her well and the other little. So what's the truth of this scene?

and you may wonder what this gotta do with the original question? why do the maesters even matter over whether Alicent or Helaena possibly being loved by the common people?

It matters because the first hand accounts one (a septon) favors aegon and the second (a court fool) favors rhaenyra and the two others (orwyle and munkun) are both maesters of the citadel based where? oh right in oldtown, the seat of house hightower

to close this off, the common people change their attitude as fast as the wind changes direction.

jorah said it best:

The common people pray for rain, health and a summer that never ends. They don't care what games the high Lords play

[file-unknown24]

Simply put, thank you all for everything

I had planned to do this since this morning, though, I knew I was going to get a bit emotional about this, so, I decided to wait instead. I'm sadly now feeling sick on top of being tired which I've been all day due to staying up till past midnight for the tour I went on with Curtis, though that's my fault, no one said I had to do it last night, yet I did it anyways.

I'm getting off track though. I know you all are quite busy and can't look at everything you're tagged in, which is why I wrote the title as I did, that way you got the main idea of what this was and didn't need to read all of it.

Now, the thing is, this is going to be very lengthy.

I wanted to thank you more then just through my asks since my ask really doesn't show just how thankful I am for all of you.

This will get emotional (at least for me) a little personal too.

I had rehearsed this, though I'm really not one for planning things all the way through, otherwise it gets overwhelming for me, so, this will probably be a lot of rambling too since I'm really just writing this as I think of it.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! You can click under the cut to continue reading

(If I did that wrong, just know that this is my first time putting the continue reading thing there)

Now then! Let's get into the actual part of this. I will say this now, you all have inspired me all in different ways, though all in one same way too.

I will say, I'm a shut in. I stopped really taking the steps to talk to people, to even step out to my front porch, around when I was 12. There's a reason for this, though that's a bit to personal, so, I'll keep that to myself.

I was homeschooled, so I've never been to a school, so I don't have that, I am not that social in the regards of, I don't really like going outside and going out of my way to talk to complete strangers.

When I was 12, I also began watching games and being on youtube. I was on Wattpad for a while, eventually, the first thing I tried with sharing anything I created was with this book on Wattpad.

I had this idea of making a story about Y/N, though not YOU at Y/N. The reader was meant to slowly figure out that they weren't the main character within the story, they were only in the comments of the story and could actually interact with the main character Y/N.

because of this, it had nothing that would actually bring people to read it since it wasn't based on anything, it was it's own thing. At this time though, I was looking for a place to really just be accepted, and when no one did anything with this book, I felt I wasn't accepted, so, I stopped writing for it and eventually deleted it all together.

This was my first taste of trying to put out my ideas, to share them with others, and, to me at least, it turned out poorly. I have done many things, gone many places to share what I make, to share my ideas.

I did Wattpad, I did Pintrest, I did Deviant art, I came here, and I did youtube.

The thing was, on Wattpad, I already said what happened there, for Pintrest, I really never went on it, Deviant art and tumblr here, at the time, were the same, so, the only thing I stuck with was Youtube.

When on youtube, I was on and off all the time, I rarely made anything because I knew I would have to do so much, for really little reward. The thing that has the most likes on youtube is a story for robin and kid flash and honestly, I never fully was into making that, though that's what got the most likes, so, I made more.

I really started to just not want to share my stuff like I used to since it seemed like I was doing what others wanted more then what I wanted.

I came into the TSP fandom when Ultra deluxe came out. I watched many things for it, I ended up, honestly, finding X Narrator stories on Ao3 and that's when I found Ao3 really.

I read many stories, not all X Narrator of course. I then came back to tumblr and found you all.

You guys made me love this fandom more then I did before. You all made me love Tumblr really.

All of you, at different times in different ways, have inspired me. You have all inspired me to keep going honestly.

I eventually made my Ao3 oneshot book for TSP characters X reader. It first started out as me trying to flesh out my Narrator at the time, then it changed into a Narrator X Reader story, and eventually I really didn't want to just do the narrator, so it turned into what it is now, a book for all of the TSP characters.

But the reason I actually started writing it was because of you guys, you all showed me not to worry about what others thought, that I should just do what I wanted to make and there would be people who would enjoy it.

I then expended more and more, from not interacting with anyone unless prompted to, to joining reblog chains with my Narrators.

I really want to thank @beartitled while we're speaking of the reblog chains. You helped me to really feel excepted into this fandom when you did the gala post. When I saw that I was mentioned, not only mentioned, but by someone who I followed, by one of my favorite TSP creators, I was so happy about it. It honestly made my day to simply see that you drew my stupid little Narrator designs.

After that, I felt like I really was a part of this fandom and not just a watcher who made things here and there.

It's honestly just amazing to see that any one of you have even simply liked some of my stuff on here.

I say all this, though I really wouldn't have gotten this far with even sending this out tagging all of you if it weren't for @gamergirls427

If it weren't for you, I would have never even texted anyone, let alone gone and did something as small as reach out to Bear about the cat march thing, so, thank you.

I was alone for so long. I only had family, and even then, I have some past things that make it harder to really talk to my family and trust them. Even with friends, all of the friends I've had have been either temporary or just not that great of friends, but all of you have helped me, at least with the friends department, and I can't thank you enough for that.

You all brighten my day and @gamergirls427 and @adventurecrimez

You mean the world to me and thank you so much for simply being my friends.

If you read all the way down here, thank you and know I love you all <3

As I said, this would get emotional, but, there we go. Now time for all the tags.

@juaneloriginal @britishbiscuits @finnleywiththesillys @shoefullofpudding @melancholys-inc @test-url-please-ignore @goony-gooner @villiun @athenamineblox @accoleius @souppye @janirah @thesillyparablesystem @gothic-mothic @xandyprojects @heckinrissa @brieflykay @choirgamerfangirl @miezmiau-animations @bucketfan427 @chaos-theoryyy @cinnabuncrumbs @demonicrhythms @your4thwallbreaker @shortpirateking @jaygrahamns @sangijazz @lilydoesdrawsometimes @deviousnarrator @bbonzo @mpils @crowv3xd @owlfromthemeadow @mocksart @gamergirls427 @z-static-z @paradoxspir1tart @springbon-t-art @alumiasgo @questionablealibi @shinakazami1 @tw1nkee28 @adventurecimez @lavalamphoarder @bootleg-parable @the-friendliest-freak @cha1nsawblood @braisedhoney @bog-mob @machines-art-shenanigans @emile-tb @raccoontank @tomiechu @coralkrill @troolyart @brutusartemis @scaredii-cat @crtvirus @calwasfound @beartitled @thenamesmobu @employee052 @envyq00 @quentintin7 @indigo-art @kelpiekidd @bucketbrainrot @vellichorom @give-soup-please @steampoweredwerehog @klari2845 @peripalz @bucketfullofstrawberries @rick-ety @blackkittensketches @altyy-tm @sketchygoober @insomniphic @morrrs @rhadko

[thegreenthepeacetheorange]

Everlark (The Hunger Games, Ch. 2)

I've decided to track the development of Katniss and Peeta's love story as I reread the Hunger Games trilogy. There's already so much great discussion on tumblr so I'm gonna throw my two cents in on one of the greatest love stories ever written. It's probably going to be nonsensical and not laid out properly as I'm tracking Katniss's own thoughts (that are definitely not straightforward!) - but I just want to capture my thoughts.

It's amazing how their story doesn't even begin in Chapter 2, but years before, when they were just 11.

So on the day of the reaping, after she herself has volunteered for Prim, Katniss says she doesn't even have time to wish for Gale's safety before she hears Peeta Mellark being called and she finds herself stressed. She thinks "oh no, not him" straight away. And of course we find out why: he's the boy with the bread. The boy who saved her at her worst time.

We all know the story so I'm not going to recount it here and I know many people have talked about just how kind and revolutionary Peeta's act of burning the bread and throwing it to Katniss was. What I'm focused on is the clear building of Everlark as the key romance and central relationship that drives the whole trilogy.

Before Katniss even sees Peeta, when she's stopped outside the bakery, she's mesmerised by the heat and the "luscious scent" coming from the bakery. Big focus on the heat because throughout the trilogy we're about to see how heat/warmth is about to play a part in who Peeta is and what it means to Katniss. The bread is burning as she clutches it to her and runs home, it's still warm when she reaches home. Katniss can't explain his actions, she's confused by why he would've done this. She's preoccupied with this lovely boy from then on, he bore visible signs of his mother's beatings as the result of his kindness.

Katniss didn't know Peeta's name then but by the time the reaping comes around, we know she knows his full name and that he has two brothers older than him. She knows who he hangs out with. Later on in the book, we'll find out that she's been keeping more tabs on him and knows more about him but I believe his act of kindness completely captured Katniss's attention. She developed a curious affection for this boy who suffered a beating just to help her. Through her narration we see that there's multiple times where she's looking out for him and where she catches him looking at her and it honestly makes me want to weep. "More than once, I have turned in the school hallway and caught his eyes trained on me, only to quickly flit away" (THG, 39). Key thing to note here is that Katniss has also been looking "more than once." She seeks him out, find out information about him like his name and who his brothers are. Neither of them has the courage to speak to the other but there seems to be a tether between them forged by the bread.

Of course, as a result of looking away from Peeta (after she's been caught staring at him). her eyes fall on the dandelion. The dandelion that gives her hope, that reminds her of her skills in hunting and foraging for food that her father taught her (we'll see Katniss connect Peeta to her dad many times throughout the trilogy too). "To this day, I can never shake the connection between this boy, Peeta Mellark, and the bread that gave me hope, and the dandelion that reminded me I was not doomed" (THG, 39). I think Collins set up who the central love story of Katniss was going to be right from this second chapter, and it's very powerful because it's put into the framework of the other key themes in the book: survival, kindness, humanity. From his single act, Peeta becomes to mean so much more to Katniss and to us as readers of the books and critics of the Hunger Games.

Back to the reaping and when Katniss and Peeta shake hands up on stage, Katniss remarks that Peeta's hands are "as solid and warm as those loaves of bread" (THG, 39). Again, notice the solidity and warmth she connects to Peeta.

It's weird to me that people consider that Katniss didn't love Peeta, only stayed with him due to shared trauma, didn't really care for him etc. because it's clear from chapter two that Collins is masterfully setting up an epic love story. From chapter two she's laid the groundwork for their relationship and these same themes and tokens in this chapter are going to be found again and again through the trilogy.

A side note: Katniss's mother after the death of her husband goes into a state of darkness and sadness that Katniss can't understand, as she outlines in chapter 1. However, we'll see how she similarly falls into that dark sadness in Mockingjay when Peeta is captured and tortured by the Capitol.

A petty note: for all the people who deny the importance of Everlark as the main love story still (for some reason) or hang on to the whole 'Gale was there first and therefore is more important' line of thinking, Can I just say: Katniss and Peeta's connection predates Katniss and Gale's. The only reason Katniss even ends up knowing Gale is because of Peeta. Peeta and the dandelion reminded Katniss she can hunt and that's how she ends up in the woods meeting Gale. Gale wouldn't even be in Katniss's life if it wasn't for Peeta. So y'know, just another lovely thing Peeta gave Katniss.

[lullybaju]

Oh, Monte Cristo...

The french prince of Machiavelli

The pride and joy of Foucalt

The apple of Catholic's Church eye

The talented Ripley of 19th century

The master of narration

The king of metamorphosis

The romantic version of architecht archetype of mbti

The most controversial of them all

Alright. Focus.

Here we are in June and I'm proud - almost in tears - to say that I've finally  managed to finish The Count of Monte Cristo, one of my favorite books since childhood and the longest book I've ever read (!)

Although i enjoyed the experience of reading an over 1000 page book, I still think their final stretch wasn't that exciting. The last chapters were saved from boredom by the ko of the big four and the rising from the ashes of Benedetto. This corsican boy deserved to live in freedom and the knockout of Gerard de Villefort and Baron Danglars were those great epic revenges I was counting on and the epitome of violence I had been waiting for!

Despite the ease of reading that dynamic side, the most special moment of the final stretch was Dantés return to If as Monte Cristo. Ok, I'm very aware that I said the merciful version of the count drove the story right to the end, but the door stopper built a new turning point for us to enjoy and it was not a cheesy one this time.

Monte Cristo visit to If was a visit to his past and it radically changed his goals and his plans as it made him remember that his true wish was only not to get his memory taken away. Actually, his reflection carried something deeper than that: he could understand that his revenge succeed from the moment he managed to make people know and let people know about him and all the ordeal he went through - not just his traitors, but all those tourists who will carefully listen to the tour guide and wonder about what happened to prisoner number 34 and will talk about that history with many people. After all of that, he realized that memory is power and memory is justice.

Can you feel?

THERE'S LIFE IN MY EYES!

The Count of Monte Cristo will always be one of my favorite books because it gives me life. This novel will remain extraordinary for eternity because it has the power to give life to any reader.

Why?

This amazing novel keep us informed of many tragedies with many gossip about many (aristocratic) people while let us know about a very methodical vengeance that is being carried out by a man who is experiencing the extremes of human being, but, although he was facing such hell-heaven condition, he didn't feel satisfied by just living in peace with the paradise side benefits of that situation and decided to fulfill our fantasies of power by using his lucky to bring justice by promoting violence against social structures and institutions of oppression, such as the judiciary, the capital and the army, through the people who represent them.

In addition to that, the so-called man is superhumanly smart and focused on achieving his own personal goals, that is to say, as a rule, a role model for everybody living under capitalism and economic liberalism. Actually, a hero, but not any kind of hero: he isn't naive and break the rules without thinking twice to fuck his way to the top everytime he realizes this kind of cheating is social acceptable and the key to succeed, and he also goes through many mood swings to the point of bring his love to someone especial in a middle of some of his authoritarians states of mind.

Imperfectly human, the count seems to be a relief as he shows himself as a big guide of pros and cons of what even a hero is forced to do to have a decent life in times of great pressure.

Long life to the count of Monte Cristo.

Supporting text I used, but it's in portuguese

[tulipe-rose]

SO. FOLLOWERS. I FINALLY FOUND WHERE TO READ THE LNs, AND NOT JUST SOME SNIPPETS!!!

In celebration, I screenshotted every single line that caught my attention in 'Dazai's entrance exam', and wrote down notes of my thoughts on it. (This might turn into a series because damn I think too much (it's a blessing lol))

It's so interesting to see Kunikida's take on Abilities, it's very nicely phrased— important questions that definitely came to mind are mentioned here, only to hit us with the reality that no one has a theoretical explanation on it. Even the way Abilities manifest is a mystery. Some theorize it might be due to a traumatic experience, but no one truly knows.

OOO Martial arts trivia with Doppo-kun!! (Yeah I can't with myself rn, it's one am, and I decided that since Doppo is the narrator of this LN, I'll bully him a little lot; he made it super easy lmao.)

OMG DOPPO FALLS INTO DEBT?!! THAT GOES AGAINST AT LEAST 50 OF HIS IDEALS LORD THIS IS TOO FUNNY TO THINK ABOUT—

Seriously though, imagine the golden age agency members as a whole, (Kunikida, Rampo, Katai, and Yōsano) being fresh, and young adults, but also terrible at handling their funds to the point of losing all of their money every month somehow, and waiting for payday like it's their one lifeline while fighting off loansharks. Fukuzawa decided that it was about time Yōsano, and Rampo handled themselves independently, only to regret it later. Kunikida doesn't know just how his savings just disappear (ehem Rampo ehem), and Katai gets the hang of it sooner rather than later. He was just so used to having Kunikida being the one to manage the money, but once Kunikida started getting busy, he tried to be a little confident, and independent. (Epic fail)

Also justice for the law office, imagine them having to deal with all of the Mafia vs Agency crap to this day. Istg, these people have seen it all

“ blasphemous book ”

Couldn't agree more omfg– ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

“ perfume of beautiful women! ”

No words. If I start questioning where that came from, I'm afraid it'll spiral into something unpleasant–

Dazai is as high as the statue of liberty, and it's entertaining oml–

Like, yes Dazai, the anemone is definitely eating the banana, want to have some? I could ask it for you.

We're naked? Whatever floats your titanic, dear. Our approval ratings? Well, I suppose the agency is the best of the best. Oh? I suppose it can never be that simple, but I suppose tights can be a little uncomfortable depending on the material. The bank didn't see it coming, nope, the reaction was worth the uncomfort; I did mess up on the hopak steps a little though, but non of us are perfect, don't you agree?

I'm having too much fun–

Just gotta love how Doppo is just going about his day like Dazai doesn't even exist. Like:

“ That? Figment of your imagination, dear reader; I insist that there definitely isn't a high employee here. Moving on– ”

“ Why it's a little old pops! He's whispering to me, he's saying ‘Go to Tokyo; in Tokyo they make food with Miso which tastes different, and you need to try i–... ’”

Far fetched, LIKE SUPER DUPER FAR FETCHED, but could this be foreshadowing Dazai's backstory? Hear me out on this!! He's talk about an old pops, which could be referring to someone he viewed as an important, figure in his life; I think it could be an elderly man that came to Dazai's acquaintance before being found by Mōri. The old pops could've been telling Dazai all sorts of stories, and Dazai obviously memorized them all. One of the stories could be about one of pops' travels to Tokyo, where he tried Miso for the first time, and being so infatuated by it, encouraged Dazai to go try it one day. What makes me dead set on this is how Kunikida interrupted Dazai during his drunken speech, which is Asagiri's most common way of revealing/hinting at things.

I should go to sleep (neh.)

FOUL. DOPPO, THAT WAS FOUL. (But honestly... keep going. He's been so irritating to you, you're rightfully angry)

Shout out to our part timer Doppo!! Having multiple jobs is such burden, I salute you for your survival, Doppo. I bet most of the kids loved you (some didn't, but you can't have them all)

Graceful, huh? I don't see it.

OOO, I didn't see this ever being mentioned!! Like no one talks about it (as far as I've seen)!

I'm nearly certain it was at bar lupin.

ZJSBWJB I CAN'T ADD ANYMORE PICTURES >:{{

I'm making a part two, dw.

[abbyfmc]

Yandere ¡Merman! Reader x Female ¡Castaway Runaway!

Yandere: Male (Y/n).

Victim: A girl named Romina.

It is a request made in my wattpad book, translated from Spanish into English.

Warning: Mention of rape, murder and assaults.

*Narrator Po.V*

It was a hot day when a girl arrived in a canoe on a deserted island in a hurry. Apparently he had escaped from an enemy war ship.

--*sigh of relief*, thank goodness, solid ground-- The girl moved towards the mainland and abandoned the canoe. It felt good to step on the sand, like a kind of freedom.

She was some kind of soldier who fled after her capture and found herself alone on this deserted island. She walked around the place, wondering how he was going to survive from now on. She located the jungle and checked it for fruits, animals and some other plants, of which he managed to find several at least for the first few days. He also had to find a place to live and things to make a fire.

What she did not know was that, apart from possible animals, she was not alone, because someone had been following her since she got into that canoe from the enemy ship to escape, that someone was a boy from the depths, or rather… a merman.

Half man, half fish. It came from a species as magical and beautiful as it was dangerous, as they hypnotized their human prey with their unique song to attract them and later kill them or turn them into more mermaids and mermen. This boy never did anything like this in his life, and as he came of age, he surfaced and felt the sunlight on his skin followed by the midday air, then he turned and saw the girl on the deserted island. trying to set up the place for his campfire.

--What do we have here?-- He whispered seeing her. She was a very very cute, white, hazel-eyed redhead. She would approach the plants to test which were safe and which were not.

He stayed watching her do her things to survive that first day, wondering how she would protect herself from the cold and predators, thinking that it would be an interesting show. He had made up his mind, SHE would be his first victim. Romina, meanwhile, had already set up the area for her bonfire with stones and everything, now she would have to go for some animals and after locating some birds, she managed to hit one with a stone on the head.

She had eaten some of the wrong plants and he realized that when she started having hallucinations and dizziness, she went closer to the shore for some fresh air and in that he saw the merman, but at first she didn't pay that much attention since which he believed was part of her hallucination.

Until she heard his voice.

--I've been looking for you everywhere my love. I know you're lost and tired, but don't worry, I'm here to take you with me, my love-- The girl, in a trance along with the side effects of the plants, walked up to him, who was waiting for her with outstretched arms. She walked and walked until she reached the fish man who was waiting for her. Romina did not realize that she was being led to a terrible fate in the hands of that young merman and entranced by the beauty of this human.

--Now we'll be together forever, my love-- He hugged her and went submerging with her, making the water go up to her neck.

--What is your name?-- The merman continued to say with his relaxing voice, ready to make that human his own and then take her to his kingdom, and that's what he did. Romina didn't realize what was happening until she felt the water up to her neck and a strange sensation in her private parts, which immediately horrified her and she woke up from the trance. It began to thrash to try to get free, which the Triton was trying to prevent.

--Stay with me. I've been waiting a LONG time to be with you-- Said the merman trying to catch her until she, in the midst of her agitations due to panic, hit him in the gills, which stunned the fish man, which Romina took advantage of to let go and flee back to the island under the light of sunset.

The night was approaching, so he began to light the fire, praying that the flame would catch up quickly until it was lit, so he sat next to it to warm himself. He saw a couple of birds and threw a stone, hitting one hard on the head, making it fall so he went to pick it up to try to prepare and cook it, thinking about what that strange being did to him.

--What is this?-- She whispered after preparing the dead pigeon and leaving it on the campfire. She found remains of a viscous liquid in and around her crotch, and there she realized what had happened to her. This made her devastated and very disgusted, because she had been raped and she couldn't try to stop it.

She turned to insult the merman in a thousand ways, but he had already left, so he had no choice but to curse the dead pigeon she hunted furiously while she ate dinner.

With the passing of the days, Romina tried to send more signals for help and to repair the canoe to try to return to her country or land, at the same time that the merman did not give up on getting his girl. He sang and called to him in a mesmerizing and calm way, but Romina always woke up on time and never managed to reach him, which the fish boy didn't like at all.

--Be quiet! BE QUIET! JUST SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE!-- Romina yelled at him, covering her ears in terror after starting to feel bad. He looked around desperately and in that he saw a small sharp twig at one end.

--I just want you to come with me DAMN IT!-- The Triton yelled at him, already angry since his patience had run out.

--NO! NEVER!-- She grabbed the twig and held it high, intent on only one thing the sea-man noticed.

--IDIOT! I was the one who propelled your canoe here! I WAS THE ONE WHO SAVED YOU FROM BEING KILLED BY THOSE MISSILES!-- At that time, Romina remembers seeing something take her to a nearby canoe before some missiles hit it, and she did not want to believe that it was this guy with the sole intention of taking her away.

--You?-- She asked with impact.

--Yeah! I! I brought you here to live!-- Romina did not want to believe everything that the merman threw at her angrily and in one last attempt, she sang again with her melodious voice with the intention of attracting Romina again, but she stabbed both ears hard and then gave a terrible scream of color, leaving her deaf or at least mostly, and that he has brought different shellfish to leave them to feed her.

--I had a lot of patience for you, but I'm tired-- Romina is still dazed from the pain and in that the merman takes the opportunity to crawl out of the water and jerk Romina to devour her.

--If you can't be mine either by hook or by crook I WILL KILL YOU!-- Romina saw in time when this guy pulled out his fangs and once again set out to fight for her life this time, her heart pounding with every second. Immediately afterwards, Romina begins to shout:

--LET ME GO!-- After a long time of struggling and attempts to bite and sink, Romina manages to hit him in the gills, which stuns him for a few seconds and this time Romina dominates the situation and being close to the shore, she then gets on top of him, to hit him in the gills a second time and she starts yelling:

--You fucking disgusting monster! DAMN SHIT VERIM! I HATE YOU FOR EVERYTHING YOU DID! FOR HARASSING ME, TRYING TO KIDNADD ME, TRYING TO KILL ME AND RAPE ME! Because of you I feel nothing but disgust for myself every time I see my DAMN reflection in the water! YOU ARE A DISGUSTING ABERRATION! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!-- Romina didn't know what she was doing, she only saw red and she was letting off steam with all kinds of insults. What Romina was doing was stabbing the seaman over and over again after tearing off the piece of seashell that he himself had as a kind of necklace and she did not stop until she felt how the body of that disgusting being turned into foam little by little. When it was all over, she swam to the beach and then went to build the fire to warm herself, and when she did, she sat down nearby and began to cry as she pressed her dry clothes (which she had hung on a branch to dry) into her ears.

--At least that part is over. Thanks God-- Then Romina raises her head and sees something in the distance, something that gives her a ray of hope.

A ship with the flag of her country.

--HEY! OVER HERE!-- She grabs one of the branches and goes to the shore in her underwear and starts screaming at the top of his lungs and waving the branch that he grabbed and lit one end of it, making him pass a torch. The boat intercepts it and gets closer until it stays right on the shore.

Bit by Bit the crew members are going down and Romina goes back. The one who seems to be the leader asks her to identify herself, but before Romina can say a single word, the second in command recognizes her as one of his rookie soldiers and once the fact is confirmed, they pick her up on the boat and while they take her Back in her homeland, she is treated by the doctors there and when she reaches the mainland, she is immediately taken to a hospital.

--AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! HURTS! IT HURTS MUCH! GET IT OUT!-- Romina was in terrible pain and being attended by several doctors and nurses who were helping her in what they believed to be an ordinary delivery. Poor Romina did not know that she was pregnant until the seventh month, and by then her ears and other injuries had already been successfully treated and renewed until today.

--Almost there, Miss Romina! Just a little more!-- Romina believed that she was going to die from the pain, since the anesthesia had run out by then. She pushed a few more times, but the doctors and nurses didn't believe their eyes.

--What is that?-- The doctors and nurses whispered, something that Romina did not hear, being exhausted and still with certain hearing difficulties. The doctors did not explain how something like this could come to exist.

So, they proceed to show it to Romina and when she sees it, she screams in horror again, as it turns out that this baby had her hair, skin and eye color but a fish tail instead of legs.

From there Romina went completely crazy and was admitted to a psychiatric hospital while the baby triton became the property of advanced government laboratories where it remained in capsules or aquariums that acted as incubators where they studied it and did different experiments with him.

-The End.

What did you think?

Happy super belated Valentine's, have I congratulated you on that yet? I just don't remember doing it.

Oh and happy 8M to all the women who are reading this. Have a nice day equally late xd.

Goodbye.

[lafcadiosadventures]

Madame Putiphar Groupread. Book Two, Chapter XXXIII

The Parc-aux-Cerfs makes a stage entrance via our disgusting main libertines's secret schemeing meeting (as always, sensitive content is discussed within)

{check my friends and fellow readers's posts as well-> @sainteverge and @counterwiddershins }{pro tip: sainteverge is translating this lexical goliath here, Even if you can read it in french, their verson usually has very interesting footnotes and research you cannot find in the online french versions}

[x]

Not to be redundant but formaly speaking this is one of the theatrical dialogue chapters. Borel makes his dolls talk with each other, the narrator makes zero interventions.

We have the rare pleasure of an intimate glimpse into Villepastour's and Putiphar's secret reunion...

Our two friends (like Saint-Ange and Dolmancé, or Valmont and Merteuil, but even less likeable somehow) are together because Villepastour wants to be paid back for the help he has given Putiphar in the Patrick affair.

Our borelesian libertines are hypocrites. If the sadian duo had their own mansion and boudoir to speak as freely as they wanted and rip as many social conformity masks as they wished, Villepastour and Putiphar do the contrary. Even in private they feign offended morality, especially Putiphar.

She intends to make Villepastour believe Patrick has dishonoured her “up to the waist”. (the “woman pretends to be raped by the guy who rejected her” trope is pretty disgusting, do better Borel) Villepastour humours her and goes off in a rant full of mock puritan indignation. Interesting concepts in his speech are: “contagious” people, who spread their noxious mores among the Court and the City... who are these contagious people? Foreigners? Not really, but Villepastour is keen on demonizing foreigners during this whole chapter. It's Readers of Philosophy, apparently. The Philosophers (aka the french Enlightnement gang, most of whom had been in jail or in exhile) had corrupted France irreparably, causing according to Villepastour, children to need wet nurses out of their own sheer perversion, among other things. The philosophers had gone too far in their attempt to shake off prejudices, they have shaken virtue as well.

(I will always remark how much influence the french enlightenment, CERTAIN TEXTS of the French Enlightenment have had to many romantic authors. Within the petit cénacle, Nerval was a huge admirer of Diderot's Jacques le fataliste, of Rétif de la Bretonne's Parisian Nights, Borel has some Diderotian turns of phrase in Passereau, and names "Jacques" in Medianoche, seems to be in a constant dialogue with some of Rousseaus works in Passereau and in Madame Putiphar... Gautier was an admirer of Diderot's Salons, and followed his conversational and passionate school of art criticism, beging to go against artistic and moral conventions. The Enlightenment is of course, what the Romantics were reacting against, but. Hastag notalllumières. The secret, posthumously published fictions of Diderot, those transgressive texts he didn't dare to publish for fear of being incarcerated a second time, seem like a crucial key to undertsand where some of the interests of the young Romantics came from. He is even part of the inspiration behind Schiller's Rauber, and with it, the Romantic Outlaw trope. Don't sleep on Diderot is what i'm saying, his influence is vast and his secret texts are not what his more divulged writings would lead you to think he is)

That last paragraph about Virtue is interesting because, on the one hand, OH THE HYPOCRISY. You can totally imagine the ironic tones in which these two speak of Virtue, how disgustingly they accuse mere children of being perverse. On the other, it's always interesting to see how the elites will seek for a scapegoat: philosophers in this case. And I also like how Putiphar, who is shown to be a fan of the enlightenmet in previous chapters (owns a Rousseau volume that Patrick uses against her) likes the Philosophes only when they are useful to her (once they go too far in their challenges to her class, she cracks a whip and it's off to jail/exhile for them) Remember how Borel spoke of her being a benefactress to the Philosophes because it gave her power, it provided her with intelligent people who were indebted to her/therefore in her service.

So these two delightful fellas continue their tête-à-tête, the marquis complains about Deborah to Putiphar, he wants her arrested. Why, asks madame Putiphar, when raping her would be so much simpler -she is now alone- and less of a boureaucratic hassle, surely. (men she says, can always triumph over women, “courage, marquis!”, noone is un-rapeable, even if she pretends to be so)(the marquis knows that the fact that Patrick is away is almost irrelevant since Deborah has been more than capable of defending herself, but he conveniently keeps silent.)

So, given that Debby is an “impenetrable” fortress, Madame Putiphar reasures him “don't worry, we will form her” (Putiphar, like the marquis before her and like many Sade characters, insists that sex is a discipline one has to be enlightened on, by force if necesary...)

The marquis does a description of Debby's "English hipocrisy" that is so appealing to frenchmen who are too accustumed to their women's shamelessness, (very hitchcock to truffault's definition of english vs latin beauties core)(but we don't need to go back to the 60's... this stereotype is alive and well)

So Putiphar claims that her Punishment for Deborah will be Educating her, forming her... the Marquis should know by now what she means, but he cannot tell..

Putiphar explains she is worried her enemies are pushing a new favorite to turn the King against Pompadour. She is certain she is not as witty to hold his attention for long, as she has. And the Parc-aux-Cerfs is pretty barren at the moment, only a couple of young girls are being trained in it (and when Borel writes young, he means it, after the first period in which the parc was mostly populated by soldier's widows forced to sexually satisfy the king, the royal person became fearful of syphilis, so he started demanding children, girls aged between 12 and 14 years)(this is all real, Borel has been accused of demonizing Pompadour but she was actually involved in this, at least during the initial period of the Parc, and she was well aware of what happened in it, since it was strategically beneficial for her to be the author of the king's pleasures even if it was by proxy. It is important to recognize that many Romantic novels, while melodramatic and exagerated if you will, root their fantasies in facts and have the intention of denouncing real forgotten horrors from a ruling class that had managed to return to power like reventants, after the french revolution, with no long lasting punishment for their crimes...)

Villepastour is delighted by the perverse perfection of the idea. Pompadour is weary Deborah, being so beautiful and intelligent, will grow ambitious and become a threat.

Villepastour says this is out of the question, since she is a prude and a peniless foreigner (it doesn't follow but ok) her pride is more of a potential threat, but there is no one The Madame cannot break in, Pompadour reasures him. She has tamed the most rebellious of them...

Pomp commands some henchman to kidnap deborah, in the meantime she makes out with Villepastour and invites him to dine with her. Cruelty is the ultimate aphrodisiac, but more importantly, a tool of government.

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annex:

first hand source on the children of the parc aux cerfs. even this person who intends to rescue the king from very partial anti-royalist historians (Michelet), considers this a reliable, dispassionate source (a source brought to light by Michelet himself)(Michelet accuses the king of being sadistic, wilfully harming the children. The fact that this man thinks it's all good since the children were "not virgins, but sluts" and there are no historical accounts depicting the king hitting them makes it all ok.... is beyond me)

20 février 1756 … …Le roi se livre à la nature, et cherche à se ragoûter par de petites filles très-neuves qu' on lui fait venir de Paris. Il se pique d' emporter des p... de quinze ans. On lui amena, il y a quelques jours, une petite fille de cet âge qui était à peine vêtue ; il s' enrhuma à la poursuivre dans le lit et hors du lit. Cependant, il fait du bien à ces petites créatures, et, s' il se comporte en paillard, il ne fait rien en ceci contre l' honnête homme. L' on dit que le Sieur Lebel, son grand pourvoyeur, est sur le côté, et l' on ne sait qui a procuré sa disgrâce….

Journal et mémoires du marquis d'Argenson Vol. 9. 1755-1757. [2]  publ... pour la Société de l'histoire de France par E.-J.-B. Rathery