#human pattern recognition is lovely

[paintbrushofthetoontown]

your honor i swear they were talking to me

[selectedthoughts]

Intention, Power and Human Nature

You are the one who puts full intention into everything.

From the moment we give our attention to something, we often know what we want to do with it. A steady, good intention leads you towards a greater purpose—something that is not highly valued these days. People driven by a lurking, power-hungry purpose often trap those who act for the common good, binding them hand and foot. They leave them with a new version of themselves, one whose weaknesses can be exploited to gain external support in one way or another.

It remains in question whether human nature is inherently good or bad. We constantly see people who mistreat others rising to prominence, while the victims are left traumatized. This is how the world moves today: we all end up relying on hatred as a defense mechanism to protect ourselves and avoid showing vulnerability. But in truth, we rely on self-love or mutual love to reveal our true selves to the world.

For this reason, it seems that if human nature were to be inherently good—and there is still time to realize this—then a collective intention could give us a stronger purpose. The authenticity that comes from that, or from any process of recognizing patterns of self-love, would naturally emerge.

[catboybiologist]

One of the most interesting facets of the human body is the way our brains sometimes "generate" information. The brain can't stand being unstimulated, so lacking sensory stimuli, it invents or exaggerates stuff on its own.

It's like the blind spot in your eye, which is filled in by the brain. But it manifests in so many other ways too. Think about getting up in the middle of the night, let's say to get a glass of water. It's dark, and silent. So your brain desperately tries to fill in gaps of perception.

As you slide off the bed, you'll swear your ears are picking up the sound of your own footsteps, even if you're stepping lightly and without any kind of footwear. In this case, there's very real senses that your brain is amplifying, and maybe even misinterpreting- the pressure of weight on your feet being "misread" as something different.

The kitchen is a place with so many smell-heavy memories associated with it. As you enter it with your empty cup, olfaction centers in your brain will start going wild trying to create something from nothing to fill in that gap. Usually, the experience of this is a faint, almost metal-tinged scent, kind of what you smell on the metal slide of a hot playground.

Your vision is not exempt from this as well, especially in areas of high contrast. If the interior of your apartment is dark, and there's soft light coming in from nearby windows, your neurons cling to that. At the periphery of your vision, you might start to notice the light "dance" a little. Shadows will blend just a tad as your sensory neurons try to keep up with changing lighting conditions. Sometimes, your brain fills in this "movement" as familiar shapes.

The burble of water coming from the sink is a comparative sensory feast for your brain, and it almost dispels all other "false" inputs.

When the sink is shut off, though, your brain is going into overdrive. It just got what it needed, and it now expects that level of stimulation- so it's gonna start inventing all sorts of things. You might start to see those dancing shadows in areas for smaller contrast now- lights from kitchen clocks, color changes or art on your walls, indicator lights on computers- coalescing into strange, thin humanoid shapes that dispel the moment you look at them. Makes sense though- humans are what we see moving around the most on a day to day basis, and our brains just work on pattern recognition. They fill in what you know, and when you add more information by taking a peek, your brain settles down.

Walking back to your bed, you might notice that the footsteps that once seemed so loud now don't seem loud enough, as if the sound is falling dead before it can carry. The floorboards, which used to make you jump when they creaked, now make no sound. Your brain is slowly normalizing, and doesn't need to fill in those gaps anymore. Hopefully that will help you get back to a restful sleep.

You lie down back in your bed, take a sip of that water, and for a moment look at the room around you. As you slowly fall asleep, the last errant "misfirings" of your brain will come together in more "comprehensive" ways. The dancing shadows from your peripheral vision might start showing up in your direct line of sight. They'll probably look like a figure coming towards you, as those shadows occupy more of your vision. Pattern recognition is a powerful thing!

The last moments before you fall asleep are where your mind is going wild, trying to put together so many different inputs, both real and false. You might feel chills, or even a cold hand on your leg. It'll pull from memory as well. As darkness falls across your vision, the shadows may contort into the face of a loved one you left behind long ago, sitting atop a wiery, inhuman body.

Make sure to get a restful sleep, and ignore these stimuli. Ignore the feeling of breathe in your neck when you close your eyes. Ignore the feeling of your blankets parting as you drift away. Ignore the figure that was formed from those shadows. They'll be gone come morning.

They'll be gone come morning.

They'll be gone come morning.

They'll be gone come mo

[xerith-42]

I know it seems like striking on social media might not do enough, but as someone who has been outright obsessively using the internet since I was a child to the point that it is literally woven in my soul, been active and involved in online activism for about five years, and been using social media as marketing for about the same amount of time, I can confidently say that

THIS FUCKING WORKS!!

People base their entire businesses on their success on social media. They look at trending topics on twitter and don't see bite sized chunks of culture distilled to its finest and worst moments, they see market data! They don't see you as a single human being, they see you as a data point among thousands run through a probably AI assisted system that's prone to fucking up, that determines everything they're going to do.

How they're going to advertise, who they target it with it, what the general public wants. Every single major corporation uses data from social media websites to do this. Every. Single. One. Social media is a lot of things, and one of those things is a tool for business and politics. We know for a fact that social media politics bleeds out into the real world very fucking quickly.

Even if you can't strike financially, even if you have to go to work or school to survive, striking on social media is one of the best things you can do. Even if it's quiet. People are going to notice when thousands upon thousands of users across various sites go completely dark, and even more when some of them start getting real fucking loud about this. The US Capitalist Infused Government loves sweeping war crimes under the rug once they think the general public has forgotten about their atrocities and fallen into complacency. This system has been doing this for literal centuries.

Social media is just the newest and most expansive form we as a species have developed in the ongoing invention of ways to express our thoughts about things. It's the weirdest one, that's for sure, but executives pay attention to it. They don't often seek to understand it beyond a very basic level, because as I said, they view us as numbers on a screen, not as multifaceted incredibly and deeply fucked human beings. They do not seek to understand us on a personal level unless they think the cost of it won't outweigh the potential profit.

Pattern recognition is the tool of the moment. Machine Learning. Gathering endless amounts of data so we can replicate human existence through machines. You may think that social media strikes are ineffective because social media is just on the internet and it's "not real", but it is real! You are really doing stuff! You are contributing! Even if you're just lurking! Basic amounts of engagement can make a huge impact in a busted algorithm. Maybe you're not someone who would ever be drafted into an actual war-zone due to physical or mental health conditions, but you are probably a part of a key demographic of people that businesses are absolutely hungry for.

The budding adult has always been the target of greedy capitalists basically since this system was established and continued to get worse over time. The stage of your life when you are in the age range of 18-25 is an incredibly important transitional period, followed by a transitional period every six months until you lose sense of what six months even is because you haven't been happy in eight, and if you're in the 18-25 range currently, you got extra fucked by the pandemic. The world is in a turbulent stage and we are at the center of all of it and have been since 2001. Every single social media marketing expert will tell you the 18-25 demographic of social media users is a target demographic, because they are the most prone to extremes due to a life chock full of them.

We have to remember to be human, but we have to also know how to speak their language. They just see us as numbers? Let's show them some fucking numbers. Make posts about Gaza trend on every platform you have your hands on. Even if it's just liking posts, that gives them a slight boost in the algorithm. Commenting on posts is especially important on sites like Twitter and Instagram. But across every site the most important thing to do is reblog/retweet/share/send/copy link, whatever it is for that site, it is the biggest thing that everyone, and I mean EVERYONE looks at.

From a humble artist to a head of marketing at a billion dollar corporation about to have a meeting with a barely over 21 intern about how they need to run the twitter account, to said intern bumbling their way through adulthood with a job they only feel they're good at because they've been using social media since Skype was invented. We need to be loud, we need to make sure this can't be ignored, we can't sweep this under the rug. Mass media, especially coming out of the West, has been trying to censor, de-sanitize, and keep this issue quiet.

DO NOT LET YOURSELF BE SILENCED

There are tens of thousands of DEAD CHILDREN who have been BOMBED while in CIVILIAN AREAS and that is a FUCKING WAR CRIME.

THIS IS A GENOCIDE

Say that as many times as you can. Do not let it be ignored. A silent populous is a complacent one. Use your voice, even as small as it may seem. Make noise. Be loud. Be annoying. Don't let this be ignored. Talk about it everywhere you go. Do not let this be ignored.

Sometimes even we get disconnected from the real people around us. We base our sense of worth as a person based on the numbers going up or down but instead of developing a gambling addiction we just got angry about it but still fall into it because of cultural conditioning. But even if you only have let's say, completely random example, 70 followers. And only a small percent of them will see your post. Let's say maybe 20 on average, 30 on a good day, and even higher based on the machinations of fate. That's still 20 people who took time out of their day to read something you wrote, process something you created, share a part of your experience of living.

And likely they felt compelled to share it too, therefore increasing the spread of people who feel your influence. 20 people may not seem like a lot, but that has a major impact. Now imagine posts into the hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands and even millions. Those aren't just numbers. Each and every single one of those is just another person who might have reblogged a post because someone they like shared it, or because they wanted to spread its message, and that simple act causes a single post to have massive waves of effects from simple ripples.

Don't let yourself be discouraged. Don't think your voice or your impact "isn't enough to matter." Everything counts.

Don't let this be ignored. Don't become complacent. Know that every little thing counts, and to do every little thing you can.

[lampadions-pickle]

Honestly do need to stop making explicit differentiations within Bridge Between, Intercedent because that defeats the point. Set told me as much when he cocked an eye at my usage of Suncatcher as my base. At this point... ah, calling them "Modes" works better. Not so much division but a recognition of Change. What [Mode] I operate. "Bridge as: []" rather than my other prior conceptualizings of self.

Not actually, but Bridge feels like a curse of Change. Oscillating facets, all valid takes on what it means to Bridge and be bridged- therefore broad. I come back once more to the idea of identity containers, but realize that I'm perpetually redefining the largest container- so when will I learn this endeavor is useless. I thought perhaps Perspective was the largest container, though as of now- Relations seems to be larger. Some part of me wants to jump the gun and say Connections is the largest picture someone could paint, but He already exists and I don't want to shoot for something that chances are slim to obtain. so for now, Relations. If I am gaining followers for whatever inexplicable reason, then I ought to see what I stand for to them.

[whenmemorydies]

See this?

Carmy is about to pull this shit. He is really about to go in and likely blow up one of the only good relationships he has left from The Beef. After yelling at Tina from the pass. After stressing out everyone and their fucking dog cos he thinks this is acceptable behaviour if its all in service of a star?

This part of 3x03 Doors was such a jagged scene for me because of a few things (including what I've said above). What else got me:

Tina is someone Carmy knows, that Carmy loves (go back to their scene in 1x08 Braciole talking about Mikey. Go back to Carmy's soft "hey Tina you go ahead, you take the night off okay? I got you.");

Tina is an older woman of colour who has made the commitment to skill up so that she can work at The Bear after working at The Beef. Carmy has seen the work she has put in but in this moment, he pays none of it any mind. Imagine being T. Imagine how that would feel. Imagine how it would feel knowing all we know after watching Tina's journey in 3x06 Napkins. The thing is, Carmy doesn't need to know all of T's backstory to know his behaviour is unacceptable. The fact that he knows some of it and proceeds to act in this way is just more evidence of his white privilege showing its ass.

Carmy does not have the self reflexivity here to look at his young, white, male self yelling at this older WOC and see how fucked this is: how he's become another white guy in a litany of white men barking at workers of colour, not seeing Tina for the whole human she is but reducing her to a means of production. The racial dynamics on this show are so evident but don't get talked about nearly enough. I know the writers have crafted those dynamics on purpose because as beautiful a character as Carmy is, he's also a product of his environment as a white chef trained in a highly racially segregated field. This has repercussions for his relationships in season 3, particularly with the BIPOC characters in his life. @november-rising speaks about Carmy's behaviour in relation to Black women's experiences of love and professional recognition devastatingly here. Read their post and the reblogs.

While this shit made me so mad this season, it was also in character - as I've said here - for a white guy trained in fine dining to revert to established patterns of behaviour. Though, I'm gonna need the writers of the show to show US that they did this on purpose and have Carmy ATONE for this shit in season 4. Otherwise, what kind of redemption arc will this man have? This shit is hurtful to the BIPOC characters and BIPOC viewers of this show in no small part because white men the world over have a LONG history of using BIPOC people as a means of production and as a means of production alone. If you're unsure about this, please go look up the Transatlantic slave trade. Please go look up the history of colonial indentured labour. Please go look up The British East India Company. Please look up the forced labour regime in the modern prison industrial complex. Please go read a fucking book. And no I'm not saying Carmy is responsible for the slave trade (LMAO please hold fire if this is where your mind is going). I'm saying BIPOC folks carry with us a long ass history, an intergenerational history of this shit. But guess who else does too? White folks. So don't act like they dont.

This shit is also hurtful because we know how respectful Carmy can be. We’ve seen him in seasons 1 & 2. We know he knows what being a practical ally looks like (even if he may not have the language to name what he was doing) when he made sure to bring the staff of The Beef with him to The Bear and invested in them accordingly. We know he loves and respects them, none more so than Sydney. But there were so many times where he did not act like it in season 3. And when folks have got histories - not just personal but cultural too - as long and as loaded as we ALL do, actions account for a lot. What you do is the shorthand for who you are in the world, whether you like it or not.

Ok back to the scene.

Who comes in and simultaneously saves Carmy's ass and ANOTHER of his relationships? Who protects Tina and keeps the kitchen from exploding AGAIN?

Who supervises her sous chef like a fucking pro?

Sydney. Sydney. Sydney.

And who knows that he's in the presence of greatness but doesn't know how to articulate it cos he's not integrated, not by a fucking long shot. Who needs to attend some anti-racism training along with Al-Anon and therapy (so he can get the benefit of understanding his role in this system and get a better understanding of his own mind)?

Yeah you Carmen, you.

Better get on that shit before you lose the woman who is the beat to your whole heart another means of production to a chef who's going to pay her better, give Syd insurance from the jump and total creative control. Just saying.

[pillarsalt]

hi! i was wondering your opinions on how hrt affects the body? i hold a lot of radfem beliefs but i am trans (taking testosterone). would being a woman to you have to be completely about chromosomes? for example, trans men years on T do not have the same genetic makeup as cis women. same with trans women on E, their genetic makeup would be very different to cis men, and would more correlate to cis women. does this factor in who you consider female/male or having experience as women?

Hi there, thanks for reaching out.

Firstly, I think you may be a bit confused. Taking exogenous hormones does not affect your genetic makeup. Your dna will stay the same unless you're exposed to something extreme like radiation - this is a good thing because dna mutation is bad for you and causes cancer! Your genetic sex is immutable, a person with XY chromosomes cannot have their dna altered to have XX chromosomes instead.

Hormones will affect the expression of your genes, for example turning on facial hair production in women who are taking testosterone. This is why those patterns of facial hair, even in women, differ from person to person. The genes for it were already there, but hormone replacement therapy uses the endocrine system to change what signals get sent to your genes to tell them what features to express.

Beyond chemically induced genetic expression, there are particular physical features in males that do not occur in males, and vice versa. This is a feature of the /ancient/ evolution of sexual reproduction. Despite the variety of metaphysical beliefs about identity and personhood, the truth is that humans evolved to reproduce between two sexes, and human beings cannot change sex. Every cell of your body has your sex encoded within it. This affects us physically in many ways. I and most feminists believe that this fact should be irrelevant to any person's ability to pursue their passion, be themselves, and love who they love. Even so, recognition of biological sex is something important. This is really critical in a medical context. For example: men who receive a blood transfusion from a pregnant or recently pregnant woman have an increased risk of death by transfusion-related lung injury. Another example: tracheostomy tubes differ in size depending on sex due to dimorphism in average tracheal diameter. A women who is reported as a male risks considerable injury by having a male sized tracheostomy tube forced into her windpipe. A considerable amount of medications differ in dose effectiveness and side effects based on biological sex. Something as straightforward as a heart attack has different symptoms depending on if the patient is female or male. Denial of biological sex is dangerous, and as it stands, medical science has not advanced enough to change the biological sex of an individual. If you are born male, you will stay male for your entire life. You say that a transwoman who has taken estrogen is more genetically similar to a woman, I'm sorry but that simply isn't true. A male person will always be more genetically similar to other males than to a female person.

Determination of sex is very simple, it's about the easiest genetic test to do. They have kits for high school classrooms to try out ffs. We need to leave the "meaningful sex change is possible through medical intervention" thing in the past, all we accomplish with that is giving people false hope and an unattainable goal to fixate on. Sex is real and immutable, I wish it didn't matter, but it does.

And why it matters is, maleness and femaleness have become inseparable from certain stereotypes and assigned qualities by societies in human history. Overwhelmingly, the male people subjugate the female people. Since men, male humans, discovered womens' ability to give birth could be taken advantage of, it was capitalized upon. And this is the foundation of patriarchal society. Religions were founded to justify this as the will of god. To deny that women have historically been persecuted due to their sex is, well, misogynistic. There is no "woman feeling" that makes us targets for child marriages, FGM, trafficking/prostitution, and other horrors from the minute we're born and even before. No, it's the sex we were born with that makes the world think it can decide our fate. In fact, the way that people treat male children differently from female children is so different so early, that we are genuinely unable to study human behaviour unaffected by gendered expectations. This is what feminists are talking about when they discuss "socialization". There is not a single man on the planet who knows exactly what it's like to see the world from a woman's eyes, no matter how feminine that man is. Womanhood isn't something you can achieve or acquire through effort: you were either born a woman or you weren't, just like you were either born with detached earlobes or not. It's so simple.

All that to get to my final point: Yes, I believe the definition of womanhood comes down to biology, because anything beyond that is a meaningless stereotype. Women can do anything, be anyone, look any way they want, go through any experience they do. The one thing they have in common is that they are female adult human beings. There is not way to fail at being a woman or do it wrong, you just are. Womanhood is the experience of having been a female person in this world, and nothing else. There are certain things only female human beings need, like abortion and female contraceptive rights, access to spaces where we can be safe from our subjugators (male human beings), and the ability to define ourselves and fight for our collective rights.

(At this point you may object and point out that male people who identify as trans women are also subject to violence and scorn from men: unfortunately that is often the case, but this does not make male people who identify as women, well, female. We need solutions for them that do not involve requiring women to sacrifice our comfort and safety for the sake of a particular subset of men, because of the inherent risks involved and the fact that women do not owe men anything even when those men have it bad.)

One last thing: my opinion is that prescribing exogenous cross-sex hormones is unethical (so are all elective cosmetic medical procedures but that's a post for a different day). I understand the distress that gender dysphoria inflicts on people, however the ill effects of hrt are too numerous to condone. The huge increase in risk of stroke with estrogen, heart disease and uterine atrophy with testosterone, and the way that trans medicine studies are notorious for losing followup with patients after a year or less... it's short sighted and frankly, financially motivated. The amount of trans patients who are prescribed hormones without access to an endocrinologist, it's honestly infuriating. People deserve the best care possible, not lab rat bullshit where they cut you loose when it's not working out. I won't judge anyone for what they do to themselves to cope with distress, but I want everyone, especially girls, to be aware of the lifetime effects medical decisions may have, and that you also can find happiness within yourself without hurting your body.

Thanks again for your question, be well ✌️

[joleenjackalope]

So I have some Lenore thoughts, I like the idea of her a lot. But I don't think she's worth her price. So here are just some of my thoughts, as well as my doodling out some of those thoughts. I don't think she necessarily needs all these things, it's more that I let my internal rants about how she could be better guide me out of my art block these past couple days.

Part of why people pay more for collector dolls is because they have some type of attachment to them. Either being a Monster High character they already love, from an IP they love, or even the Off White had some brand recognition. (just not from me) And I felt like Lenore COULD have been the lady in white/weeping woman ghost story that just about every town has.

That being said- What is with the glitter tears?? If she had a unique sculpt that actually had a downturn on the brows and a sad face, and actually LOOKED like a weeping garden ghost, that alone would have made her more appealing!

Then why unpainted accessories? Why one big unpainted accessory her main focus? I like the vines (I didn't go very detailed here) but either paint them or make them smaller. (What I did) But if you want me to believe that the doll is WORTH $75 then you need to show that some actual care and effort went into her manufacturing and paint her damn accessories.

I just wanted an excuse to draw the spider. I don't like the human face but I only like a few of any of the MH pets anyway. so...

Put her damn hair up. Just like with the accessories, show me she is WORTH her price.

All of the above combined, the collector dolls stray further away from the High school aspect of MH and although Victorian/period fashion isn't necessarily my thing, I know a ton of collectors would have loved her looking like a ghost who's been haunting for a long time. And since she's not a character that's being portrayed in the high school - a collector doll would have been great! There's lots of adult/non-student characters.

Mini notes- I didn't draw patterns for her clothing, but the pattern on her dress as is would have still looked lovely on a bigger, fancier gown. I didn't do full body and I have no notes on shoes. They're not my specialty. And I would have appreciated her not having a full white sclera.

Also, line art for this piece is available here, tag me if you color it! I'd love to see. ♥♥♥

[wuxiaphoenix]

Worldbuilding: Outliving Emperors

There’s a common tendency in a lot of fantastic fiction portraying long-lived races or individuals interacting with shorter-lived types. It often defaults to, “they have a mindset of slow and patient consideration in the face of Problems. After all, they have plenty of time.”

(Until, of course, they don’t, and the Evil Overlord obliterates lots or possibly all of them.)

It’s a valid way to portray a fantasy race, I guess. But I think it misses a critical consideration of sapient life. And that’s pattern recognition.

To boil it down - if you’ve lived a long time, and you pay attention to what’s going on around you, sooner or later you will recognize when things are about to go nastily sideways. The river-folk down there and the mountain-folk up there have had a new generation grow up without bloodshed; sooner or later some young buck out to make a name for himself is going to dig up the old feuds all over again. Or, we’ve had three years of bad harvests in a row, I bet the nomads think we’re weak now, let’s watch for raids. Or (and much worse), this guy is making speeches about a Glorious Past and Restoring the Nation to its Rightful Place in World Affairs... right, time to duck, world war incoming.

If you’ve had time, you’ve seen things happen. If you’ve had enough time, and survived it, and even a little breather afterward, you can sift back through the history leading up to When All The Maps Got Arrowy, and try to see what set the whole mess off. So if you see similar precursors go off again....

Slow and patient consideration might not actually be your preferred plan. Instead, you might opt for, find the bastards and shut them down, fast.

Someone slaps you? Walk out now, no matter what anyone else thinks. Squatters on your land? Find them and toss them out on their ears so hard they bounce. Sabers rattled your direction? Make it absolutely clear there will be heavy weapons firing back - as soon as fired on, not “two years later after we’ve deliberated it to death”.

Because if you’ve lived for a while, and you anticipate living a lot longer - think about it. “I’ll be a slave for a decade, then die,” is bad. “I’ll be a slave for a century, and that’s only if they let me die-”

Yeah. That’s worse.

With a long lifespan, the number of Bad Things that can happen to you automatically increases, just by virtue of your being alive to have them happen. Why would you want to give any avoidable Bad Thing a chance to happen?

 Wouldn’t it be possible that an elf, cultivator, dragon, or other creature who might live centuries, might actually be quicker to act than regular humans?

I have found this in one fantasy setting. In Lejentia, by Flying Buffalo Games, the Aelvan Nations finally beat down and imprisoned the Hyl Sudiar (Hellish Seducer) and the demon who possessed him, and breathed a sigh of relief. Some centuries later, said demon persuaded another person to become the next Hyl Sudiar... and the Aelvan Nations declared war immediately.

Human kingdoms: “Whyfor you do that?”

Human kingdoms a few centuries later, after despite all efforts the Hyl Sudiar’s armies have conquered half the world: “...Oh.”

I have to think about this, given I have a story that has at least one nearly three-hundred-years-old vampire, and a somewhat younger cultivator who has still outlived three emperors and is working on a fourth. (Zhengle, Jiajing, Longqing, and Wanli, if you’re interested.) They’ve seen threats to their people. They know, over and over again, what it is to lose people to the actions of evil men. What it is to live on, while those you love die, and it never stops hurting....

Long life might not mean slow and deliberate action. Just a thought.

[sorcerous-caress]

Agape | Arnell Hallowleaf

[Bg3, fluff, romance, angst, smut, comfort, human reader, nb!reader]

You, a human, fall in love with an old elf and make terms with the knowledge that you'll outlive him. He comforts you through it.

It felt right, sitting right here, you felt strangely safe, protected.

Loved.

His legs were comfortable below you, warm. Straddling his lap, you couldn't help but lean into his chest, bury your face between his shoulders, brush your nose against his neck.

He smelled nice, safe, like the shadow of an orange tree. You've always heard people say that humans had a distinct smell that anyone but their own kind could easily pick up amidst a crowd.

And maybe they were right, for the elf you were cuddling against smelled anything but human. Smelled like nature was weaved through his skin, like ancient magic rivered along his blood.

You wondered how you smelled to him, how would a human scent compare?

Arnell's arms held you with gentleness, carefully wrapping around your human body as if you were something precious. And maybe to an elf you were, much like how your kind handled dandelions with delicate hands, careful not to accidentally ruin something with such a short lifespan.

Elves were always the subject of human enamour, for some mysterious reason the more elusive their kind was, the more intrigued humanity got by them.

Yet more than half of humans spend a lifetime without ever meeting one, and the other half were just blessed by luck to stumble upon one on a mere chance.

His hands were moving up and down your back, a comforting pace.

The wrinkles on his skin, the ageing of his face, the stray grey hairs amidst his black hair. Arnell was relatively old by elf standards, and ancient by human standards.

You felt impossibly young by comparison, even as an adult you felt impossibly small.

Yet he spoke to you as an equal, extending the same courtesy and respect to you as he would've given to another elf.

High elves didn't have the best views on humanity, a majority of them even refused to learn common to communicate with what they deemed as lesser beings. Mayflays, sparks in the wind, forever summer children who never make it to the winter.

Hugging him tighter, his hands paused for a moment. You remember reading something about how the elves share their connection to the fey, how they can sense each other's emotions, bare open their hearts and understand each other in ways no words can ever give justice to.

Your kind had to resort to the guessing game, pattern recognition and studying body language.

Arnell's hand moves from your back to your head, caressing your hair, cupping your face and lifting your chin up to look at him.

Your eyes meet his green ones and you wonder if he can recognise your emotions, you see him focusing on the small details of your expression, on the downturn of your lips.

Elves who lived amongst humans had to learn these traits, although it never clicked with them the way it did with humans, even the most experienced could still make wrong assumptions.

It was the difference between someone with a language as their mother tongue and someone who merely studied it in books. Even with endless practice, others could tell the two apart.

Humans were the most social of creatures, they needed other people as much as they needed sunlight, without it they'd wilt.

“Is something troubling you?” He finally asked, making a semi correct guess. Concern in his eyes, voice as soft as ever as he spoke those words.

You shook your head, reassuring him that it's nothing.

And maybe if he was another person, or maybe just a younger version of himself, then this would've fooled him easily. Elves weren't the brightest when it came to human social behaviours, when it came to white lies and the stubborn human ego's refusal to ever admit something is wrong.

But Arnell knew better, he was old, he has seen this song and dance many times before from your kind.

His lap was very comfortable, you thought, you never wanted to get up, or face the world outside again.

But those words burned to admit, and you couldn't connect to the fey, you merely had your lips to pour your heart content with and it was never enough.

A warmth spread on your forehead, a tingling feeling. His lips against it in a short tender kiss. The warmth trickled down into your own heart, his sudden affection spreading a sweet feeling of reassurance through you.

“It's just…not fair.” You could talk again, without the usual shame clogging your throat shut, you could speak your feelings.

Maybe he did know more about humans than you've given him credit for.

“This whole situation” you continued, “losing you so soon when we've barely even..”

Elves always warned their kind against getting too attached to humans, for their fleeting lives will have you heartbroken quicker than you could predict.

And yet, no one has warned you about having your elf partner be at the end of their long age just when you get together, watching them die and know they'll leave this earth before you.

It was always the human that left first, and now instead you're the one mourning your lover.

What a cruel joke fate was, to make it possible for the two of you to be together only at this moment of time. At the start of your life and the end of his own.

You should be happy, grateful that he still chose to spend his last remaining years with you. It's not like he didn't warn you beforehand when you kept approaching him, ignoring the implications and following your heart's desires to be with him.

And oh, how much he desired you too so, how hard it was for him to gently coax you into finding someone else, someone younger, maybe a human just like you.

Alas you were relentless, and he couldn't deny himself any longer. Your first night together, you still remember it fondly. How his breath felt against your neck, how his hips moved against yours, the twitch of his pointy ears whenever your insides clenched around him.

Time flowed like a dream, being with him was everything you could imagine and more.

And just like any other sweet dream, reality comes crashing in when it's suddenly the time to wake up.

The natural death of an elf, when the fey calls them back home, they could feel its pull. And Arnell was never good at keeping secrets, he could barely contain himself for a day before telling you about it.

He has to leave, go back to the sanctuary of his people. So he may join the cycle of rebirth and the fey may claim his soul back into its river again.

You've stopped talking for a while, too lost in your own head. Swarming thoughts of what tomorrow held.

Sitting on his lap and clinging to him as if you may trick Corellon into not taking him back if you hid him between your arms, if you hugged him tight enough, maybe just maybe you can extend his life by a year or two.

Too many emotions swirled inside, outrage at unfairness of the universe, despair at having your loved clawd out of your hand, resentment for not realising this earlier.

His eyes were still on you, his soul attempting to understand your own. And so you do the one thing you can, you kiss him.

Pressing your lips against his soft ones, melting into his arms. You feel him kiss you back just as tenderly, just as desperately, even when you pull back for a breath his lips are on yours in an instant. Stealing your breath away, indulging himself with your taste as long as he can.

Because he has you for now, this one precious human who's so worried about losing him, he has you all to himself.

He had met many humans in his lifetime, fell in love with many of them. Maybe it was humanity as a whole which he was in love with, and when he saw the flame of determination in your eyes at getting with him, he was reminded of why he fell in love with your kind in the first place.

It was addicting how you tasted, intoxicating how you smelled. The order of nature meant nothing to the chaos of your soul, the indifference of the universe could never stop your laughter. And yet humanity still danced as they were born from ash and to ash they returned.

He wanted to keep you on his lap forever, this amber still not yet fully flamed, with endless potential and unlimited creativity. How was he not the lucky one in this scenario to have you choose him, a mere old elf.

At this point of age, his own kind rarely bothered anymore, too occupied with the prospect of their new life after death to bother and still make memories with their current one.

But you breathed life into him, shared your own flame. Humanity was infectious at its core, leaving marks everywhere you went, giving parts of yourself to everyone you've ever met.

He wasn't letting go of your lips, wasn't satisfied yet. Even a hundred years spent solely by your side on his bed would never satisfy his hunger for you.

It was intense, beautifully so, until the two of you finally parted, breathless with lips flushed.

You were the first to break out of this trance, moving closer and trailing soft kisses up his exposed neck. Leaving marks on his fragile skin, brushing them with your fingertips as your lips moved upwards.

Along his jawline, up his cheek, your lips met the base of his ear. They were sensitive more so than a human's, easily got a gasp or two out of him. You softly traced its pointy long edges with your lips, a lick or two with your tongue got Arnell's arm to tighten around you. Thighs trembling underneath you with each flick against his ear.

You too, have learned more about elves by being with him than he could've expected.

A last night of his embrace, of having him lay underneath you as you moved your hips. Spoiling him one last time, having him completely fill you to the core one last time, hear him call your name one last time.

And when tomorrow comes, you'll be ready, the two of you will.

Maybe, just maybe in the far future, in 20 years or so. When you've grown, lived your life and cherished the wrinkles starting to appear upon your skin, you'll meet a familiar set of eyes in the forest.

They're blue this time around, shaped differently, even his hair is a different colour and texture. No elf is reborn in the same body, but you can see the recognition in his eyes, of being the last person he ever saw.

And you may call his name, Arnell, see him reply with a different one. The new name he was granted in this new life, witness his tale of the dream-like memories he held of his past life, of his daughter, of his past wife.

And especially, of you, the one human that saw him until the end of his life.

Maybe his love for humanity was engraved in his soul, so deep that even rebirth may not steal it away. Maybe the two of you get to fall in love again this time around, get more time together this time around.

And he will be the one to walk you to the end this time around.

[basichextechml]

Wet Braids and Ribbon Ties

Wednesday Addams/Fem!Reader

Rating: Teen // 2.4K Words // No pronouns used for reader, but implied Fem, Soft as hell, Teen for graphic jokes and it being somewhat suggestive at the end, Wednesday being someone emotionally vulnerable, Makeout sesh 

A storm brings you closer to Wednesday than you’d ever thought it could.

---

     Pattern recognition was a necessary trait of human evolution, and essential for the continued survival of any species. Those that came before you had used it to scavenge food, tame animals, create languages, and form communities. Sure, you were still doing these things, but it was less urgent, society collectively pushing past those base instincts to refine such senses. Vaguely, you wondered if your ancestors would be a bit disappointed that your brain’s neocortex was being used to psych yourself out over the sight of braids. While they were trying to figure out what berries and fruits wouldn’t kill them, you were worrying about Wednesday Addams and her twin braids that seemed to haunt you. Though, you guess it wasn’t their fault that you had pavlov'd yourself into associating the hairstyle with pretty brown eyes and a penchant to make your heart race.

     It was all made much worse by the storm that had been rapidly approaching Nevermore. Again, ancestors fighting for their lives in the elements- while you were fighting for your life at the sight of Wednesday with water droplets clinging to her lashes.

     Wednesday’s investigation into the murders around the town had all but halted, all her leads running dry. The Sheriff wasn’t responding to her evidence, and Xavier hadn’t made any moves- but she still felt a pull in her chest, like something was missing. She had requested (demanded) that you follow her to the Gates mansion to poke around once more. Enid had vehemently rejected both of your requests to follow.

     “What time are we going then?” You ask, leaning against her bed frame as you watch her fill up a bag with flashlights, rope, and a first aid kit.

     She zips the bag shut in finality, “Tomorrow night, after curfew. We’ll have to walk, so wear a jacket.” It seems she never got over the time you wore a tank top in 45-degree weather and you kept putting your freezing hands on the back of her neck.

     “Isn’t there a storm coming, though?” She raises an eyebrow as if asking ‘so?’, “We don’t know how structurally sound that place is, what if it floods?”

     Wednesday lets out a quiet huff, lips pursed in a thin line, contemplating your words. Finally, she concedes. “You’re right, be ready to leave at 4. I’ll meet you in front of your dorm.”

     Okay, yeah that seemed more reasonable-

     “4? Like four in the morning?” You questioned incredulously, arms crossed in front of your chest.

     There was a ghost of a smile at your confusion, an inherent pride to it. “I thought you wanted to beat the rain?”

     While Wednesday had pavlov'd herself into being associated with the debilitating symptoms of falling in love, you also came to associate the girl and her long, dark braids with the troubling feeling of everything going wrong at once.

---

     Stupid Pavlov. Stupid neocortex. Stupid pattern-seeking brain.

     Due to years of evolution, you were now trudging through cold sheets of rain in a forest with the girl you liked looking for clues on a murder investigation at 4:48 in the morning. Your boots making contact with the mud made terrible squelching noises as you both slowly made your way back to Nevermore, the only sound between you being that of twigs snapping beneath your weight.

     This endeavor had resulted in nothing, it was a long shot if Wednesday was being honest. She had already found the evidence once in the basement, and it had been moved when she came back. Why would the perpetrator come back to the home? She had no clue- but she had nothing else to go on, and was feeling a bit -to her disgrace- defeated. While she was in the middle of looking around the basement for the umpteenth time, the storm predicted on the forecast came early, The house, just as you had predicted, began flooding, cutting her even deeper.

     Now, with no fruits born of her labor, and your cold hand in hers guiding her through the dawn of a new day; you were slowly and surely going home.

     As the lights of Nevermore Academy shone through the thicket of the forest, you both continued on your leisurely pace, despite the pouring rain. You both were already wet, running would do you no good now. Despite the shiver that ran down your spine at the nipping cold, you were fine with staying outside a little longer.

     “I’m sorry,” Wednesday said suddenly. The apology nearly made you stop in your tracks, looking at her in disbelief. Never had Wednesday apologized to you- for anything.

     The look on your face, as if you weren’t trusting the words she was saying, snapped at the strings of Wednesday’s heart. Enid’s words come back to haunt her, tearing into her about her inconsiderate nature. She’s sure you’d been made to feel that way as well. It was confusing. She should feel overjoyed at the misery of others. But seeing you by her side, being soaked head to toe by the rain, chilled to the bone? She was just as miserable as you.

     “I’m sorry.” She reiterates, knowing fully that you heard her the first time.

     “You don’t have to apologize-”

     “I do.” The words are biting, and that does stop you in your tracks, inadvertently stopping her as well. Wiping the rain from your eyes, you look down at your interconnected hands. This was the longest you had ever touched her. The longest she’d ever let you touch her. “I have been… Selfish, as of late. And for that, I apologize. I am single-minded, I put you in danger, and I…”

     You watch with a hitched breath as she avoids eye contact. This is difficult for her. Her shoulders are rigid, her mouth tense, and her hands twitching. The rain pelts down on you both, and you suddenly feel like you’re the main characters in a film.

     “I believe I’ve hurt you, so I’m sorry.”

     She looks terribly beautiful, hair sticking to her face in waves, her lips, and her nose the brightest red you’ve seen on her, doe eyes big with her eyeliner running from the rain. You simply squeeze her hand thrice. As unhealthy as it may sound, you had already forgiven her for anything she had done long ago- and you’d continue to do so, as long as she kept dragging you around with her hand in yours.

     “Thank you, Wednesday. I accept your apology.�� And, again, you mean it. Pulling her a bit closer, just so your shoulders knock together, you begin your journey once again. “Now come on, I think we should both get dry before we die horrible deaths from contracting pneumonia.”

     “I believe we have conflicting ideas on what constitutes a “horrible death”.”

     “I’m sure we do, Wednesday.”

     You both gingerly sneak through the door and through the foyer, tracking mud on the carpet up the stairs. Wednesday makes you stop once you get to the top, and take off your shoes so you don’t track the mud back to the dorms- so Principle Weems doesn’t suspect you two. Though, you think it’s a lost cause because you’re both the number one suspects for anything slightly off that happens.

     Your dorm is closer, and quietly, in the early morning embers, you usher Wednesday into your room, locking the dorm behind you.

     The single dorm you resided in was smaller than the rest, the space easily filled up by your belongings. But you wouldn’t be caught dead asking to switch, you liked having your privacy- a rarity at a boarding school.

     Wednesday is already making herself at home, leaving her shoes at the door and shrugging off her coat and scarf. “You can shower first.”

     “Are you sure?” You ask, doing the same. Wordlessly, she takes your own jacket from your hands, spreading it on the floor next to hers. The space heater you have for nights like these is already cranked on high.

     “Yes,” Wednesday confirms, sitting down in front of the machine, “I just need some time to think.”

     “Alright, I’ll be quick.”

     You’re true to your word, grabbing your pajamas and heading to the bathroom. The shower feels nice on your frigid skin, and you make sure everything is still organized for when it’s Wednesday’s turn. An extra towel is left on the sink once you’re done. She’s sitting in the exact spot you’d left her, the lines troubling her forehead just as prominent. You search through the black clothes in your closet, pulling out a pair of sweats and a matching sweater with some socks, and tapping her shoulder. “Your turn,” You mumble, presenting your offering.

     Her fingers linger on yours, the shadows and movements emphasized by the low lights in your room. The clothes are held away from her still-wet body, and she gets up, closing the bathroom door behind her. As you hear the shower start again, you put your towel on the floor, mopping up any water that had dripped off of her.

     This evening hadn’t gone as you thought it would’ve. It was like that morality test, if an oncoming train had its brakes cut, and you had to choose between crushing six people or one, what would you choose? You, of course, were all seven people- you would die either way. That made Wednesday the train, didn’t it?

     Before you knew it, the door to your bathroom opened again, Wednesday stepped out in your clothes, using the towel you’d given her to scrunch the water out of the ends of her hair.

     Your mouth felt dry like you were at the dentist getting a tooth pulled, and they had to suction all the saliva from it.

     “Do you have a brush?” She asked. Getting up from your spot on the floor, you flitted around your desk, grabbing the one you’d left next to your vanity mirror. Holding it for a moment, you contemplated your next words.

     “Could I do it?”

     Time stood still in your dorm, fingers nervously pushing over the prongs on your brush as you awaited a response.

     Wednesday felt warm. Swallowing her tongue and sitting down on your bed, cross-legged. “You may.”

     Her hair was long and thick, pitch black as the night sky, and softer than anything you’d felt before. She smells faintly of your shampoo, and you find yourself light-headed as you gingerly rake your fingers through the ends of her hair, ridding it of any tangles. Starting at the ends, you slowly brush through the damp hair, working your way up. It’s longer than you had initially thought, undone of its iconic braided style.

     Wednesday felt nearly naked with her hair unstyled and wet in your hands. The brush working against her scalp treated her so tenderly. As if you would rather walk through the fires of hell than yank against a strand of her head. She licked her lips, eyes suddenly watery. She had forgotten what tenderness had felt like these past few years. She believed she didn’t need it. Maybe she was wrong.

     Using your nail to part her hair in two, you push both sections over her shoulders, and the bed creaks as you get off to sit in front of her.

     The girl who avoided your gaze when apologizing earlier is gone, and instead wholly intent on looking at you as you finger comb through the section of hair on her left shoulder. Deftly, you split it into another three, even sections, slowly beginning to put together her signature braids. Wednesday watches as your lashes flutter while you concentrate, enamored with how you lick your lips and twitch your nose. You’re engrossed in her. Sitting here in your clothes, letting you do her hair, she must be equally captivated.

     You get to the end of the first braid before you notice an issue. “I don’t have a tie,” You announce, pouting.

     “I left them in the bathroom,” Wednesday says, already getting up. But you stop her.

     “Wait-” And you're leaning over to your desk, rummaging through the top drawer. Pulling out two strands of black ribbon, you’re back in your spot in front of her. She’d seen them in your hair before. Setting one down in your lap, nimble fingers keep her braid in place while the other positions the ribbon. Soon enough, she had a perfect little bow tying the braid together. You start immediately on the next one.

     Wednesday Addams has bows in her hair.

     Once you’re confident they’re even, you lean back, eyes immediately shooting up to her neglected bangs. Taking the forgotten brush, you lean in. Much closer than necessary for the task, but instead of pushing you away, she tries to see if she can feel your breath. Rounding off her bangs, you discard the brush for a final time, hands coming up to finger curl the longer ends, framing the hollow of her cheeks perfectly. Your hands settle on the curves of her jaw.

     Her pupils are blown wide, eyes narrowed dangerously, and you feel like a meek hare in front of a desert viper. You’re sure her venom would sting, and you’d be happy to let it flow through you.

     She lets her fangs sink into you, pulling you in until her lips connect with yours. Unlike her demeanor, she was soft against you, hands coming up to the nape of your neck to keep your lips flush against hers. The warmth of your sweater and your hands and your lips are too much and not enough, and when you finally pull away to catch your breath- cheeks hot and eyes lidded- she finds you irrevocably adorable. She understands why Anaconda kill and eat their mate. If you don’t stop looking at her like that, you’ll undoubtedly meet the same demise. Wednesday finds herself pushing you down, pillows cushioning your fall as you lazily bring her back into your embrace.

     As the clocks crawl forward, you both stay the same, warm and flush against one another. And as the clock strikes 8:30am, you’re both broken from your reverie.

     “Good Morning everyone,” Principle Weems sounds from the intercom, “Due to the storm, faculty has made the decision to cancel classes and extracurricular activities for the remainder of the week. If the storm lets up, this schedule is subject to change. Stay dry everybody!”

     A bit late for that.

     “We’ll be staying here.” Wednesday decides for you both, already pulling you back in. You kiss against her jaw in agreement, fingers pulling apart the bows in her hair.

---

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, please consider reblogging, I'd really appreciate it! As always, my asks are always open to talk ^-^

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1CbNa8jneefleLKCK98HHC?si=1c7e5b671ae14e42

[camkaza]

OK, I have been reading some sharing of feelings about Tim "always leaving". Could someone please explain to me apart from the break up, when did he always leave?

The break up was dumb, I understand this, I am anxious to find out how they will justify it when they get back together. Even though he is struggling mentally and I understand that you sometimes need to fix yourself before being with someone even if you love them.

However I do not see the Tim was a bad boyfriend to her throughout their relationship. He was Tim...

1. He gave her the time and space she needed to break up with Chris.

2. He did not flinch when she asked him to wait until they were intimate.

3. He went to get placed in a desk position - actual Tim I am always in the action Bradford.

4. He was shocked and upset Lucy had not told him about the 5 player trade, but when she explained her viewpoint, he realised she was right, of it is ego with such a macho guy, but he evolves and lets it go.

5. If he is so bad of a boyfriend he could have left that make a dream foundation kid to Lucy, instead he made it a team effort and personally I think that he just wanted to run a test for both of them as potential parents...

6. In fact each time Lucy jokes or not jokes about "our grandkids" or "our kids", Tim does not skip a beat and goes in immediately with "nice" or "our kids would never do that" or "you would keep loosing our kids"... For the ladies here who have had boyfriends who's souls have left their bodies at the mention of "our kids", you guys know that that Tim is a dream.

7. Being a softie only for Lucy, he knows he is.

Now the two biggens are 1. When he went home in 6x01 - was it wrong to leave, I do not know, sometimes when you leave you either want to de-escalate a situation, or you are hurt. The whole point is his trauma that he has that he does not even realise. (+ I know Kujo was thankful for that night off, that poor soul had not been fed since they started dating 😂)

2. The whole lead up to break up and actual break up. I do not even want to list or go into detail, we have suffered enough. Now here is where there is no defence. He did bad even with the whole I want to protect her thing, like Tim, we know, we love you for it but let it go, protect each other and heal each other.

A big issue I have though is people saying "he constantly leaves", "oh, he never really loved her", etc.

Lucy has grown up with therapy her whole life, she has coping mechanisms, recognition of patterns and the whole bag of tricks of psychology. And even then, she has difficult moments like any mortal human being.

Tim has had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING in terms of recognising his trauma or how to deal with it. This is something he starts learning that is why he is so surprised by it in 6x10.

This is a long analysis but then again the field is not number of words restricting me, so... 😂

I just hope that there is a good and I hate to say it but slower and therefore meaningful path to them being back together.

I think it will help if Lucy shares that she dated Nolan with Tim. Not only will it show that hey, we are all human and have not followed the book 1000 % but also I really want the comedic aftermath of that 😂

I would really hate to see a 3rd party love interest for either of them.... Let's face it they will do it even if it is "Lucy or Tim get jealous and at the end of the episode it turns out they never had any interest in the person".

I like Eric's idea of his mom coming in, maybe she helps him (aside from therapy) realise that he should be with the person he loves. Because let's face it he will need to go to therapy even after they get back together.

Ps: we all know that the break up was fabricated by the writers for plot and also to see us squirm.

I am still in the " Nathan how dare you post a pick with Melissa and Eric with an engagement ring in the background" phase.... I swear.... And the fact that Eric and Melissa participate in this "making us go crazy"....

Anyways those are my thoughts and if someone has any real, valid answers on the whole Tim was a bad boyfriend... Let me know, but please no hate.

[scrubbinn]

Mimic HRT: month 22 “sight seeing”

“All ready?”

“Yeah, how many places are we visiting today?”

“I need to stop by THEMS for the support group meeting today, and pick up recording equipment. I need to write a report of mimic behavior/sensitivity analysis by the end of the week.”

“How much have you written so far?... You haven’t written anything have you?”

“...Busy.”

“HUN! You need to actually work to keep your job!... but if you wanted to spend the whole day together and you did that stuff later. I wouldn't say no.”

“Nice try Abi. But the recorder is coming with. I've used them since I could remember, it's practically a member of the family. Now you can wait in my room during the meeting… But if you wanted to…”

“I'll stay here, I'm not feeling up to meeting your new friends yet.”

“Boo. Don't worry I won't rush you. See you in a bit. There's snacks in the fridge, don't eat any of the picnic stuff. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“So how was it?”

“It was… alright. Sorry that makes it sound like it didn’t go well. It went perfectly fine!... Just a little sad Alexis still isn’t back. It’s been three weeks now. Apparently it’s just something she ate recently.”

“So food poisoning?”

“I honestly don’t know, it didn't seem like I was allowed to pry into it. I hope she’s fine, I was hoping you could meet her.”

“…But it went well otherwise, yeah?”

“Yeah! Everyone’s super nice! I just hope I come off the same way. I’m sure they know me as the nervous wreck who works for Erian at this point. I wouldn’t be surprised if they hate-

“HUN!”

“AH! W-what is it? Oh, right, thanks. I need to stop thinking like that, huh?”

“It’s ok hun. It’s hard to stop thinking like that. Talk to me about your meeting. Was it good otherwise, besides one of them getting food poisoning?”

“Oh, yeah! It was super nice! I feel like we ended up helping out with a lot of problems we all had today. I didn’t end up talking much, but working in my field has been great for helping out with any logistical problems someone might have like with continuing prescriptions or stuff like that. 

I did notice one thing though. I, uh, well, I wasn’t talking much because usually when I’m at a meeting I get terrified of everyone looking at me. Not in an anxiety sort of way… I think, but in a, I've been spotted and need to slink off and hide, sort of way. I think it’s a mimic thing, like I don’t like to be known, you know? But this time was different. I felt a lot more at ease, even when I was the center of attention. I think it had something to do with a few people having simultaneous big changes with their AHRT. It made me realize that maybe what I hate isn’t being seen, but having humans know what I am.”

“Oh… Do you feel that when I look at you?”

“No, I know I’m safe with you. It’s just an interesting thought, is all. It’s like maybe humans are the natural predators of mimics, since they have the pattern recognition to notice strange details and spot the mimic. It could potentially lead to the origins of mimics. Maybe we were just normal animals that got hunted to extinction.”

“Uh huh… Wouldn’t there be fossil records then? Or some other evidence… Look hun, I’m happy that you’re happy, but you’ve been kind of laser focused on this origin stuff lately.”

“Well it’s important. Erian barely understood what he was giving me, I’m the only one of my kind that I’m aware of. It’d be nice to find my roots. Not to mention, he can’t even put this new Mimic HRT on the market until he actually knows everything he put into it. There’s one ingredient he apparently just found and stuffed it in there to see what would happen.”

“Hun, the more you talk about him, the more I worry about your health and your job.”

“It’s fine, my health is perfect and I don’t think I’ll be fired anytime soon. Anyway, come on, it's picnic time.”

* * *

“It's been so long since I've been to the beach. Look! Hun! Sandpipers! Ooooooh they're so cute!”

“Abi, are you good to walk around like that? I get the sand isn't going to be hard on your injury, but you're still recovering. And you shouldn't go swimming!”

“I'll be fine if I'm walking a little bit, don't worry. Now come here! Sit with me.”

“Y'know they say Kaiju sized sea creatures live here. You think I should dive in and look?”

“Pfffft! Who's they? Wouldn't there be like no fish at all if there were things bigger than whales in there?”

“Hyper city is weird, I’d believe in anything strange, like Erian being a half decent person.”

“...Hey hun, do we need to go to all these different places?”

“Getting tired already Abi?”

“Yeah…”

“I'd like to. My behavioral study on mimics is important to others, but it’s more important to me. I need to know so much about mimics. Erian is already working on figuring out the biology side of things, but I need to know how I think. So that I can make sure I'm safe to be around.”

“...So what do you think about this place?”

“It's… It's lonely.”

“Well. We're the only people here right now.”

“Not what I meant. There's a, longing, hoping that something underwater is looking back. But it isn't. I can just tell. I know when I'm being seen, I want to be seen. I just don't want to be recognized. Beaches feel weird, like I'm standing on the side of a cliff needing to jump off. The sea is nice. It's an empty void where I can pretend to be a stray clump of seaweed waiting for some fish to swim by. The prey, all looking at me, no humans around to know what I am. Huh, not sure where that image came from. Maybe mimics are amphibious.”

“You mentioned this sort of stuff before. You just know when you're being looked at. Are you ok? You're not getting an anxiety attack or anything right?”

“I'll be fine. And if I'm not fine then I know you can help, but, let's talk about something else.”

“Ok… So do you have gills or something? Also do I have to worry about you running into the ocean never to be seen again?”

“haha, I can shift gills. And no, if I went feral, maybe, but I'm still partly a slime, I'd eventually dissolve if I stayed in too long. Though, I've been losing those parts more and more.”

“I kind of wanted to ask. Are you ok with that? You came here to become a slime. Do you still feel dysphoric as something else?”

“I'm… We can figure that out later. Let's just watch the waves for now.”

* * *

“Isn’t this near your job?”

“Correct, it’s a nice little place a block away. Also I just like the name. Roost café”

“I’m not big on cafés hun.”

“Trust me, you’ll see why we came here… What do you think?”

“Well the tree is cool, and the magic fairy lights are pretty. Oh they have those little cat walkways, but there’s no cats here. Well, It’s very, cottage core. Very… You.”

“Oh, so you don't feel the aura do you?”

“Aura?”

“Yeah! Do you seriously not feel it? Mabel, the witch who runs this place, set up an aura that’s supposed to pacify any familiars and it came with the side effect of calming down anyone else who enters this place. Isn’t that amazing? Just think about all the places that could benefit from this. Imagine if the clinic had this, or restaurants, or government buildings, then people wouldn’t be so worried, it could help out so many therians!”

“I don’t know hun, I think a lot of people would probably hate having that sort of thing everywhere. Wouldn’t people hate that sort of thing? Getting emotions suppressed because it’s supposed to be safer. If I got insulted for existing and couldn’t get angry about it, I’d probably just feel awful.”

“Oh. huh.”

“Sorry to wreck your dreams.”

“It’s fine. Here, you get some snacks, my treat. Just get me some chai. I’ll find us a table to sit at”

“Ok. mwa! Don’t feel bad about the idea, I’m sure you could do something really cool if you think on it. So don’t start feeling bad about yourself for thinking about helping people.”

“No kissing! Not until I know it’s safe!... 

…What the heck am I doing, of course there’d be problems like that with an aura like this. How would I even set up magic fields in specific locations, I doubt the owner here is going to willingly teach it. I’m putting my feelings over others again aren’t I. Ever since I was told about this place I can't stop thinking about how everything would have been fine if I had an aura like this then. Maybe Abi wouldn't be stuck in a wheelchair. 

It's only supposed to affect familiars right? Wonder why it affects others like this. I think I read somewhere that mimics used to be familiars to wizards. Maybe I'm Abi's familiar now…”

“What are you mumbling hun?”

“Oh! Nothing! Don't worry about it!”

“Ok? Want a bite hun? There’s so many cute pastries here!”

“I can't eat pastries anymore, only meat. I pretty much just stick to the tea here. It's good tea.”

“That's so sad. Enjoy your dirty leaf water. I got some apple pie. Jealous?”

“Not really.”

“Mmmm, so good! This place is really cute though, Apparently you can take any of the fruit growing on the tree there. It's a little cramped but you could call it cozy. When we get a cat do you think we could bring it here?”

“I think it needs to be a cat familiar. You could start practicing to become a witch. But this place is nice I guess. I usually come here after work, you should try some of the tea here hun, it pretty much cures any migraines I get.”

“I'll stick to pepsi.”

“Well glad you like the place. I think you'd like Mabel too.”

“Oh she seemed really nice when I was paying. So… did you just want tea or was this place part of your study.”

“...I just wanted to stop by for tea. We can head over to the next place soon. You'd like it. It's called the Heart Mender boutique!”

“I don't mind staying here longer with you hun. Let's just sit a bit longer.”

* * *

“Ok, the recorder is back on.”

“Hun what happened, you can't just start freaking out for no reason and run out of the store. And your first instinct is to start documenting it, that's not healthy.

“Look I'm sorry, I just wanted to go clothes shopping, but something felt really strange, I tried to ignore it for a while. I feel bad for making a scene but I had to leave.”

“Hun, you've been panicking a lot lately, and you just take out that recorder if anything ever goes wrong. Have you talked with your therapist about this?”

“I have. Look, I’ll be fine, but right now I need to record these thoughts. please just tell me what you thought of the boutique ok?”

“...Alright. Fine. Uh, It was really nice. The one at the counter, Samara I think, showed us around the place. There were a lot of different styles and shapes for all the clothes. Like even ones that therians could wear. I bet it felt really cool for you when you saw that jacket with the four sleeves. You don’t usually have four arms but it’s inclusive and I know you like that stuff. It’s cool. I even asked and apparently the owner makes them! She sounds cool. Plus it seems like they'd be able to help you pick out an outfit. You’ve never had a good sense of style.

“Thanks hun. I can count on you to always sneak in an insult about my past self. Well, It helped calm me down I guess. Hey, uh, not part of my point, but… I don’t really go to boutiques. Is pottery a thing they usually sell?”

“Not really? The accessories, like necklaces, are pretty normal, but I’ve never seen pottery being sold in one. They’re really cute though. I love the one you bought. You could grow some bamboo in it. And Thank you again for getting me this necklace by the way. It's so cute!”

“So you didn't notice anything else?”

“Hun… If something's the matter you have to tell me. It's just a nice place. I want to visit here again.”

“You remember how at the beach I mentioned I could always tell when I was being looked at?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I could feel something else watching us. I don't know what, but something was there. Looking through the eyes of everyone. No, that's not right. Like everyone everywhere was seeing me in one place.” 

“Ok, maybe we should focus on breathing. Just calm down for a moment. Even if you're right about, whatever you're trying to say. It's still none of our business. Everyone in the shop are nice, and I don't see anything bad about the store online. Is it really that big of a problem for your new senses?”

“It's not. I'm sure whatever secrets the Heart Mender boutique has, it's their business. I just. I wish I wasn't the only mimic. I could tell whatever connection there was, it was something my instincts wanted. It wouldn't stop screaming at me that I should be the same way with my own kind. I was jealous. Whatever I felt in there, I wish I had it… Abigail, don't get near me. I could bite!”

“You won't. I just know, and you could use a hug. I wanna go back inside, they had a lot of cool stuff. I'll hold your hand while we're there, and I'll help you pick out some cool clothes.”

“...I feel so weird, in a, how can I be this dumb, sort of way. Let's hope I haven't scared anyone.”

“There's no other mimics, so you could just say it's a mimic thing and no one would know.”

“Jeez hun, hahaha, I can't just go around lying like that.”

“Hey, technically, it was a mimic thing. And turn off your recorder this time. No recording equipment remember.”

* * *

“So, the next location is an interesting one. And I think you'll probably want to wait in the car for now. And before you say anything, listen. I actually mean that this place is apparently really bad to stay in. Thayer Library is something of a ghost story. Where they say people feel the presence of something watching them”

“So, you want to see if you can feel their presence then?”

“Yep! Also it's a spooky haunted library, how could we not go here for a date! Oh! There it is, come on! Oh this is going to be great. It’s close to sunset too! Alright, let’s get going hun, I’ll go get the wheelchair.”

“Actually, could I stay inside?”

“Is everything alright? Are you feeling haunted.”

“... I think if I step inside I’ll die.”

“Oh. oh, you’re serious. Alright, I’ll be quick. Stay safe then, I’ll be right back…

…Huh, is. Is this it? It’s barely a tingle. It’s certainly empty. I don’t even see a receptionist. Is it open? I guess I’ll just do a quick read and leave. Suppose I can spend time documenting behavior. Something is definitely watching. But it’s not thousands like last time, just a few. Something big, but strangely calming. I feel completely relaxed here, like I don’t have any problems. Who’s watching? And why does it not bother me? It’s not human, so then it’s some other force, is it a guard, a curious visitor? Well I’m in a library, I guess I should read…

…I wonder if this place has any books on mimics. The books here feel like they could disintegrate with a touch, but there’s not a speck of dust on them. Maybe I could actually find some information on us. Huh, this might be my first real chance at a lead. This could be perfect! I could… Why is Abi calling? Wait… It’s already been an hour!? How?! When!? Ugh, I’ll have to come back here later. I get the sense I’m not wanted here. Maybe Abigail is right, this place could be dangerous.

There’s one more location to go to. I’d rather not head there in a bad mood. I think I’ll check out a book. Mimics surround us? Yeah I wish. Ominous title, and what are the chances I pull this book out at random… I should go.”

* * *

“Mayday, is the place closed?”

“Yeah, it's closed, apparently some sort of crime happened a while ago and they’re closed to the public. I can only imagine what anti-therian story is being spun right now. I just hope they don’t try to contact Erian’s clinic about this. They treat me like a child who needs to hand the phone over to a dad.”

“God, I hate this place, why did we even have to come here?”

“The zoo is important to visit, even if it's the culmination of everything awful in this city. I know people who live here. I hope they're ok… Do you think I'd end up living here in a tiny glass cage if I did go all the way with mimic HRT?”

“I don't want to think about that hun. Let's just go already.”

“...Sometimes when I go to the support group, someone doesn't show up, and I can always tell what everyone's thinking. The first thought is always that they went full feral, that they're stuck here, that we've been forgotten again. I always make sure to visit here every month. Just in case. It's never actually happened. Except the once. It makes me think what would happen if a colony of mimics showed up in Hyper city. Would we be accepted? Or would we be all cornered into this zoo for the sake of a fake safety that only exists in people's heads. What I would give to see this place turned to rubble.”

“Do you need another hug hun?”

“I'll be fine.”

“You could use another hug.”

“I guess I could yeah. It’s hard to stay sad when you’re around.”

“So did you figure some stuff out today?”

“Oh absolutely not, Erian is going to be pissed when he finds out I have nothing. But it was fun. And I got to spend some time with you, which is always a plus. Let’s do this again next time, and maybe I won’t be so buried in my own head. We can go to a spa or something. Some good old sight seeing.”

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Hey y'all, This one took us quite a while to write out, two weeks to write out, including a nearly completed scrapped script. Anyway, this chapter is very special to us because it uses a lot of fun locations that others have created. Hyper city is an amazing setting that has given us so much to work with and has become the perfect place to write about. We wanted to showcase some of our favorite places and if any of them interest you, you should go read where they came from.

Kaiju beach: @noreo-oreo

The roost café: @ashedink

The Heart mender boutique: @home-sweet-hive

Thayer library: @dawning-mars

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Mention list: @a-shramp, @calliecwrites, @be702, @respectfulevil, @hyacinthdoll1315

@aster-is-confused, @bloodandbrandywyne, @glitchgloop, @nyxthewary, @lunadook

[healingheartdogs]

Eevee's usually just "the bitch"/"little bitch"/"bitchtits" (all said lovingly I swear I just think it's really funny to call her a bitch because she literally is one and I have an autistic sense of humor) or sometimes "the rat"/"the gremlin".

Code names don't work for Hermes because he's too damn smart and has seemingly figured out that if we are using he/him pronouns we are probably talking about him regardless of what we call him. In general he seems to know too many random words and phrases are usually connected to him (and/or Eevee) even without him (or her) being mentioned, and if we talk in a weird way to avoid saying words he knows he has also has seemingly figured out that means we're talking about something related to him (or them). Nothing gets by him.

What are your pets’ codenames so you can talk about them without them knowing? Ours are white dog, black dog, red dog, and pointy dog.

[coralinnii]

Hello!

Do you take request??

If you do, can i request a reader who can mimic people's voices?

With rook, riddle, the tweels and any character you like!

MC who can mimic voices feat: Riddle · Rook · Floyd · Jade genre: mild fluff note: gn!reader, no pronouns used with reader, unspecified relationships,

I might be too outdated to understand that. I'm so sorry ^_^"

I typically just do up to four characters in a post so it's just the requested ones :)

At first he wasn’t impressed. I’m sure that there’s a spell that can alter someone’s voice to change or mimic someone else (like Floyd’s deep voice in Book 4). But, when he found out that was your own talent was when he realized how impressive that actually was. 

Being the son of well-owned physicians, he’s fascinated by your capabilities as you showed how you mimic voices he thought were beyond your assumed range. He watched you in awe as you parroted the voices of your friends, chuckling when you matched their mannerisms (it’s uncanny how you could match Ace’s voice while giving off that mischievous aura of his)

You smiled at Riddle looking so giddy with your vocal skills, like a child visiting a performance for the first time (you kept that thought to yourself though). 

Like the Housewarden he is however, he does warn you to not use your skills for any pranks on campus. He doesn’t want to see you get in trouble for mimicking someone and scaring someone you shouldn’t be. Definitely do not mimic his voice or it’s definitely off with your head. 

"I see the fruits of your effort. Some students could learn from you"

He’s definitely fascinated by your talents. He’s intrigued by your vocal prowess and if your mimicry is perfect enough to trump his recognition abilities, he’s absolutely floored by you. To think someone may be able to trick this huntsman, what a tricky lyrebird you are. 

Rook wants to observe you as you speak, he loves seeing the way you reach vocal capabilities that few can do. He watches your lips, your throat, your diaphragm, completely enamored by your voice

With your consent, he would like to see the limits of your skills. How well can you mimic animals? How about vibrating noises? How loud can you go with a certain voice or how high? 

Be sure to tell him you need a break because you have piqued the hunter’s curiosity. In all honesty, he could probably listen to you for hours, be it your acts of mimicry or simply your natural voice. 

“Marveilluex! How exciting it is to hone one's craft.”

You went ahead and showed Floyd something fun. Good luck to you. 

Floyd is going to have a field day with you and your skills, asking you to copy his voice, Jade’s, Azul’s, Riddle’s, everyone. He might even pull up videos of random people to see if you mimic voices from a video. He wants to see how high you can go or how low. This man is giving off “kid in a candy store” energy

Like with Rook, be sure to tell Floyd when you need a break. Also feel free to decline his requests, especially when he asks you to say embarrassing things in Azul’s voice for him to record on his smartphone. 

He would absolutely bug you to teach him your talents. If you choose to help him learn, you just created the most annoying thing on NRC for a few days before Floyd eventually gets bored. 

If you choose not to, Floyd will get pouty and would probably bug you for a while until you either give him or give him a good enough reason. He will still ask you to keep mimicking voices for the fun of it. 

“Whoa, how did you do that? Do that again!”

Color him curious, that is an unexpected talent you have there. 

Sound travels differently in water so seeing this skill is very intriguing to Jade, reminding him of those mimicking birds or seals he’s read in books before coming to NRC. To realize a human is capable of such abilities is a delightful surprise to him. 

A recurring pattern, Jade would also ask you to demonstrate your vocal range to him. He observes the way your voice reaches what was assumed to be ranges beyond you and pitches unlike your typical tone. It was very entertaining to watch. 

Jade wishes to talk more about your skills, how did you perfect your skills? Does it put a strain on your vocal chords? How long can you maintain a voice different from your own? 

This new discovery strikes Jade’s fancy. He can’t help but to compare you to the legendary sirens, of how they entice those who stray too close to them with their voices. 

“I keep finding myself surprised by the surface land. What an intriguing person you are”

[myemuisemo]

In approaching the first chapter of The Hound of the Baskervilles in this week's Letters from Watson, I initially felt that I was sort of cheating as I know I've read this more recently than middle childhood. Then I read the first chapter and realized my memory of the story consists of a vague impression that it has a moor and a dog. Oh well.

Mortimer's staff being referred to as a "Penang lawyer" reminds us that when you live in a colonialist society, the mindset is everywhere. The staff is presumably made from Licuala acutifida, a sort of cane native to China, southeast Asia, and Pacific Islands. By 1889, when the novel is set (five years after the date on the walking stick), British Malaya had been under direct crown rule for a couple decades. The Brits had owned Penang since at least the secret Burney Treaty of 1826.

Dr. Watson's initial wrong guesses provide a window into his world and preconceptions. My first reaction was "how did he think hunt rather than hospital when he himself has medical training?"

Growing up in the genteel countryside would explain "hunt." But Charing Cross Hospital, then located just off the Strand, would have been only about two miles from Baker Street. How do you miss a large hospital?

There might be a titch of snobbery in play, as Watson did his residency at much, much older Barts (St. Bartholomew's). Barts dates from the 12th century, while Charing Cross Hospital was an early 19th century upstart. Watson also went for additional training at the military hospital at Netley.

Watson really puts up with a lot, though.

James Mortimers' publications focus on the idea that illness stems from throwbacks to a more primitive state, an idea also applied to criminology of the day. Through 2024 eyes, this is unlikely to be a good thing, but let's see where Doyle goes with it. I have faith in Holmes due to his love of that book that attributes much of human civilization to non-white world cultures. (Coveting Holmes' skull reeks of phrenology, but I can't believe this was meant as an appealing trait.)

After being informed that Sholto was based on Oscar Wilde, I'm wondering which of Doyle's acquaintances was the pattern for James Mortimer (who is not addressed as "doctor" because he's a surgeon; it's a British thing).

While Holmes describes Mortimer as "amiable" before meeting him, he does not find being described as "the second highest expert in Europe" all that simpatico. There's some impatience in Holmes' chapter-ending request that Mortimer explain why he's there.

At this early stage, I dislike James Mortimer. It's partly the nature of his publications, but also the false humility of calling himself a "dabbler in science" when he in fact has publications, an award, and a degree. It's dabbling to collect bones or bugs or whatever and be perpetually working on a treatise that never gets finished or published. It's not dabbling when you have official recognition within your chosen career for your research.

So what is Mortimer here about?