#i mean like living as an adult is scary enough. i want to be scared in a fun way

[jonny-b-meowborn]

I desperately need to experience the adrenaline of being chased around or being in some kind of danger in a controlled situation. Like an escape room or a rollercoaster or something like that

[sepublic]

I cannot imagine being Camila Noceda because so much of her arc starts around her being scared for her child, wanting her to do well and succeed and being afraid she’ll get hurt. And then right under her nose, her daughter has disappeared on some adventure in another world but at least she seems fine, right?

But you still let yourself break and you end up saying things you might regret. And then it’s only when you begin to worry about her that she comes back and she is scarred. She’s hurt. There’s a cut on her eyebrow and you realize it will never heal. It always reminds you of how you weren’t there for her, you couldn’t protect your daughter from those who hurt her, and if you’d been enough for Luz then maybe she wouldn’t have needed to come to the isles to begin with and be injured. You see how she’s begun to loathe and hate herself, because of things and people entirely outside of her control, and you couldn’t have been there to comfort her when she needed it. So now it’s built up for Luz into this horrific trauma that she hasn’t even yet begun to unpack.

Camila is stronger than everyone because if I’d seen my kid come back like that, I’d have broken apart asking what happened, are you okay, etc. But instead she remains strong because she can see that Luz and her kids are scared and they really need an adult who can be strong for them. Camila probably thought about what happened in Yesterday’s Lie afterwards, and come to regret her outburst; She must’ve guessed how it hurt Luz and made her feel terrible and alas she was right! So she vowed not to make that same mistake again and be even stronger next time, and she was!!!

But man that must’ve been so scary and helpless and painful, seeing what happened under your watch. Being unable to provide a fix in getting her back home, so of course Camila goes along to the Demon Realm once she gets that opportunity, because this all started because she wasn’t there for her daughter when she needed her most. Of course she supports her in coming out, as well as in staying in the isles; She won't blame Eda for giving Luz what she wanted and needed, as Eda herself couldn't be a hypocrite by telling Luz to stay with her mom. Camila won’t let Luz face this stuff alone like last time, not when she knows and Luz feels better about trusting her (or had to, anyway) and it’s what saves Luz!!! Because when Luz relapses after failing against Kikimora, it’s Camila who’s there to pick her back up and tell her everything she needs, which leads to Luz’s palisman String Bean finally emerging!!!

But then Luz dies and just. That scar must’ve reminded Camila that she wasn’t there to protect her daughter from anyone that might hurt her. And despite helping a little against Kikimora, it still happened again. Permanently. Man I wish Camila had a “GET AWAY FROM HER YOU BITCH” moment to get back at Belos for all she did her to child. But Camila had to keep going because after Yesterday’s Lie, she knew she still had other kids to look after. She was strong for Vee during Yesterday’s Lie, only to let herself drop right afterwards in front of Luz. But not again. No time for self pity, you just have to move on after a death and keep living, just as you did with Manny. And in the end, Luz IS all right, and she’s better than she’s ever been and there’s some huge relief.

Just augh Camila Noceda. Luz went on an isekai adventure, but maybe so did her mother? And I don’t mean with the Boiling Isles, I mean with the U.S. Camila might have been an immigrant, and not just the child/descendant of one. And even if she wasn’t, she still moved to Gravesfield. So in general so much of her life has been about going to another world and trying to survive and feel comfortable in it. As it was for Luz, too; But they survived along the way and found what fellow “weirdoes” they could, with Camila meeting Manny, who could’ve also related to her as a fellow Dominican American. And now she’s found others who can relate to Camila in other ways, as Manny also related to her as a huge nerd.

[this-aint-massachusetts]

MORE FNAF HCS BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE IT

more hcs because I’m losing my mind and I can’t contain the sillyness any longer

-Mike sometimes have nightmares of William succeeding and Abby being another victim of his and will get up in a cold sweat to check on her in her room, sometimes glad to see her staying up late because it means she's still there

- Abby gets nightmares of Mike not waking up when she ran over to him and wakes up in tears, and goes and climbs into his bed, forcing his arm up to sneak in and hold her, he's usually awake by then and tells her everything will be okay and that he's okay

-Abby is really picky about the texture of her stuffed animals so Mike learns over time and buys them accordingly, even warning people ahead of time if they ever wants to buy one to bring him with her

-When Mike really got into doing pushups, if Abby was awake early enough she'd sit on his back or play with her dolls on his back pretending it's a boat in the ocean (he complained at first but took it as another moment to be with his sister)

-Ness is the type to remember everyone's orders, he has them memorized by their third visit His boss would be impressed if he wasn't constantly yapping to the customers disrupting kitchens flow 

-Mike Found the song that the animatronics played and will play it for Abby sometimes and watch her dance, glad to see her smiling again (until he's invited to dance to which he pretends to hate witch makes Abby giggle)

-Mike: "Abby if I die here you can draw on my grave, wouldn't mind.

Abby: "Please don't talk like that."

-After waking up, Vanessa chose to take a bit of a calmer job as a SRO at Abby’s school

-Mike went to Abby's school for her lunch to surprise her for her birthday and Vanessa is only is told it's a "surprise visitor" & nearly makes Mike piss his pants w how scary she was to greet him before seeing it was him

-Vanessa is very caring when it comes to Mike or Abby being sick or injured. Mike has a really hard time excepting help so he just pretends he’s fine until he can barley function 

-Abby loves to paint others nails but not hers, if she has any kinda nail polish on or paint on her nails she’ll bite at them

-Ness writes little silly puns and jokes on to-go orders and will for sure spend forever choosing the right one and will wake up the next day with an even better one and be down the whole day

-Vanessa is really, like embarrassingly bad at bedtime stories, like Mike tried being nice about it but Abby wasn't

-Mike is both the pickiest eater and the will try anything guy at the same time

-Abby Was taught to warn Mike of cops on the road but now she recognizes Vanessa's car and says "there's Vanessa!" And she purposely pulls him over to chat with Abby

-Abby called Mike dad by accident and he couldn't stop crying for hours and Abby thought she offended him and made it a thing to call him "big brother Mike™”

-Abby will pretend to be asleep for more time in bed and Mike's comfort. Mike knows damn well she's awake but doesn't have the heart to actually wake her up and finds himself playing with her hair and glad she's safe

-Abby still has Mike's old security badge and vest and likes to go around pretending that she has a taser and goes around "defeating animatronics" which is just tickling Mike while he's trying to get work done

-Abby before the events at Freddy's she was always warned by Mike about the germs in a ball pit so that one scene was quite literally a last ditch effort for her

-Vanessa has been asked multiple times to scare Abbys bullies but gives the corny "tell a trusted adult they're not worth it" speech to her and feels proud about it. Mike tells Abby to just beat them up /hj (She takes his advice and both get lectured by Vanessa)

-Mike was 100% ready to fight Vanessa if he needed to because he really needed the job and was fully prepared to live up to the "keep people out" rule (based off the scene where they first met)

-Mike entered his emo phase the second Garrett got taken and left it the second he got custody of Abby, mostly because he was too busy to dress up anymore

-Abby managed to get ahold of Mike's taser from when he was a mall cop and brought it in for show and tell

-Vanessas first reaction to seeing the fazbear band for the first time was to ask why the band didn't have a drummer and William grounded her for seven months and didn't speak to her the entire time because he was so deeply offended and embarrassed

-sometimes when the animatronics get bored they dial random numbers into the phone and see what happens and one time they managed to call the White House completely by accident

-Abby and Vanessa do sister stuff together like braiding hair, baking cookies, and playing Barbies with insane reality tv level drama (it freaks Mike out but he just assumes it's girl stuff he wouldn't understand)

-Mike was really into skateboarding when he was younger, he doesn't do it much anymore but whenever he needs to flex on someone he whips out the triple kick flip and everyone is like how tf is that pathetic wet cat of a man doing that

-Ness runs a blog on Livejournal that’s basically food theory but in the 2000’s and he takes it very seriously 

-When they were at the pizzeria Abby found the ballon boy figurine and wanted to take it home because she thought it was cute. Mike almost had a heart attack when he found it at the house

-One time Abby found Mikes bong and thought it was a vase so she put some flowers in in and put it up for decorations, Mike, Ness and Vanessa nearly pissed themselves laughing when they saw it

-Abby is obsessed with furbys, Mike on the other hand almost shit himself when he heard it talking in the middle of the night. Fear only got worse after Freddy’s 

-Mike couldn’t afford an ambulance to drive Vanessa to the hospital so he just called a taxi (Cory went through enough that night so he just gave up and drove them, he was pissed afterwards tho because blood got all over his seats)

-Abby has a fish tank in her room that’s just filled with bugs and dirt, Mike has insisted to get rid of it multiple times because it smells rancid and the bugs kill each other regularly 

-It took Mike 5 times to just get his learners permit 

-William was a frat in collage

-Ness and Abby are both bug lovers and both cry when you squish a bug, Mike hates bugs and doesn’t get it

-Mike likes fishing and is lowkey hyperfixated on it

-William kept all the important files in a small ass trapper keeper that he stole from Vanessa 

-Mikes car hasn’t been inspected in eight years, not cause he thinks he won’t pass he just forgot to do it and just never did it again (but srysly look at it it’s fucking disintegrating)

-Mike also doesn’t like when other people take care of him because he doesn’t want to be seen as needy but Vanessa and Ness are like: “YOU WILL TAKE MY LOVE AND CARE GOD DAMNIT!” (In a loving way tho)

-Ness steals the crayons from the kids menus and gives them to Abby 

Oki final part for now because I can’t think of anything else 😜

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

birth plan

masterlist

summary: you’re pregnant with castiel’s baby… or is it babies?

pairing: castiel x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.5k

warnings: pregnancy, language, medical inaccuracies i think (i’ve never been pregnant so i don’t think i describe the feeling well)

timeline: this is set in no particular season/episode but there are spoilers for the later seasons (certain characters).

author’s note: i’m basing this off a dream i had - before said dream i never even thought of cas this way at all (gotta love that subconscious, huh?) anyway, i couldn’t stop thinking of this dream so here’s a cas fic :)

when you found out you were pregnant with castiel’s baby you freaked out. not the expected ‘holy fuck there’s a living thing growing inside me’ but more like ‘holy fuck i’m gonna die in a few months cause there’s a tiny angel in my uterus’.

you cried while telling castiel, you were terrified. he assured you he wouldn’t let you die, he promised you would be okay and that the two of you could raise the baby together. if you did live, you had no clue how to raise a kid, or if you even wanted to. you had been raised a hunter and you hated it. when you were six your biggest fear was tornadoes but by the time you were seven your biggest fear was being torn apart by one of the monsters you had learned to fight.

castiel was so happy about the baby, so excited. he knew you would be a fantastic mother and he couldn’t wait to have a baby with you. he knew the baby would be loved unconditionally by so many people, too; you, him, dean, sam, jack, mary, and eileen - all of whom lived in the bunker.

as the months went by the pains grew almost unbearable. you took time away from hunting and had to stay in the bunker. castiel always made sure someone would be in the bunker with you (preferably not alone with jack, who tended to ask questions that scared you - “what if the baby is like me and you have to push a full sized person out” for example). most days cas would stay right next to you but on the rare occasion he needed to be on a hunt, you’d be alone with either eileen, mary, or one of the brothers (rowena visited a couple times, but that was more for trying to find some magical tylenol for the immense pain). you didn’t mind castiel going on hunts, in fact you wished he’d go on more so you wouldn’t feel like you were holding him back.

one morning you woke up and the pain was horrible - it felt like the baby was stabbing you from the inside. castiel tried healing you, but it was no use. the two of you decided an ultrasound was necessary.

“what?” you practically screamed, your eyes wide with fear.

“there must be some kind of mistake?” castiel knotted his brows and stared at the black and white screen in shock.

“no mistake, three heartbeats,” the doctor smiled slightly, wanting to make you feel better, but it obviously did nothing.

“cas i can’t push three kids out!” you whispered. he was holding your left hand in his and standing beside you, his right arm was draped over your shoulder. “cas- castiel i can’t! i- i’m not strong enough! i won’t!” tears were streaming down your face when you turned away from the screen and to the angel.

“could you give us a minute?” cas asked the doctor, she nodded and left. “honey it’s gonna be alright.”

“three baby angels, cas! three! how- how the fuck am i supposed to push three angels out of me, cas?” you were practically sobbing at this point. “i- i’m gonna die, aren’t i?”

“no! no you won’t! i promise you, i will not let you die,” he pulled you into his chest and rubbed your back lovingly. “i know this must be scary, triplets is- it’s gonna be painful.” he kissed the crown of your head.

“but three babies! i mean if i do, by some miracle, manage to give birth and survive, how are we gonna raise three kids, cas?” you wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him as close to you as you could.

“well, we do have four adults and a nephilim excited to help,” he answered, causing you to laugh lightly. it’s true, you had all the support you could need.

cas drove the two of you back to the bunker and you were met with said four adults and nephilim immediately asking where you had been. the five of them were on a hunt and got back while you and cas were at the ob/gyn. you hadn’t left the bunker in months so they had assumed the worst.

you told them the news and they all reacted differently than you and cas. they were so excited, it made you realized they really wanted to help raise the kids. (infact, they had all began thinking of names and had cleaned out the room next to your’s and cas’ for the babies.)

castiel knew that your pregnancy wouldn’t last as long as a normal pregnancy so he wanted to come up with a birth plan. dean purchased new burner phones for each person that were never to be silenced or turned off and the only people who had the numbers were the seven of you. the second you went into labor, someone near you (or you, if you could) would call castiel immediately. if possible they would also notify the others.

another couple months or so went by. you were due any day now - but you had been due any day for over two weeks. you had gotten somewhat used to the pain and rowena had come up with a simple spell with some herbs that you’d mix with your tea every couple hours to help with the pain. garth had moved into the bunker temporarily - he was a trained doula after having to deliver werewolf pups. rowena moved in temporarily too, but that was more for moral support and pain management.

“cas you haven’t left the bunker in over a month! go on this hunt,” you assured him. it was a hunt close by and he was going to take jack with him.

“promise you won’t go into labor til i get back?”

“i won’t let these kiddos leave,” you smile, patting your stomach playfully. he gave you a peck on the lips before leaving with jack.

a couple hours in, you began getting long, sharp pains every few minutes. rowena was the one who recognized the pains as contractions.

“you’re going into labor, we need to get you to the birth room.” she took your your hand gently but you whipped it away.

“no, no i promised cas i’d wait for him,” you shook your head. “the babies are just gonna have to stay put for a whi- ah!” you scrunched your face in pain, holding your stomach.

“okay, we’ll get cas on the phone, we can pray for jack - they’ll be here before you know it,” she tried to reason with you and motioned you to follow her. you shook your head vigorously and didn’t move your feet, absolutely terrified of what was about to happen.

“holy shit,” your eyes widened, cloudy with tears. “my water- i think my water just broke!” you both looked down. “that’s- that’s broken water!”

“exactly hun, you’re going into labor you need to let me help you to the birth room, okay?”

“oh- okay,” you nodded and she helped you to the room. she called out that you were going into labor as she walked you over.

about a month ago the brothers and jack came home to the bunker with a hospital bed from the maternity ward. you didn’t ask how they got it, but you were grateful they did. everyone helped set up the room; towels, blankets, a mini freezer for ice chips, and just about anything you might need while in labor and giving birth.

sam and dean carefully helped you onto the bed. mary called cas and within seconds he and jack were in the room.

“cas!” you smiled, relieved to see him.

“hey, y/n, how are you?” he asked, rushing to your side and tightly holding your hand.

“i’m in pain, cas, i’m about to push three celestial beings out my vagina!” you said dryly.

“right, right, okay it’ll be okay, though,” he kissed your forehead. “you’re gonna be okay. jack’s here and he will keep you alive and well.”

“okay,” you whispered.

“time to start pushing, y/n,” garth announced.

within the hour you had pushed all three babies out. three identical baby boys; with cas’ piercing blue eyes and your winning smile. you were absolutely exhausted, but you were alive. you were holding one baby, cas was holding another, and garth was holding the third.

“so, what’re we naming the little guys?” cas asked, a huge smile on his face and his eyes not moving away from his new baby boy.

“this one’s sam,” you smiled down at the tiny being in your arms. “he’s the biggest.”

“then that makes this little guy dean, he’s a smallest,” cas laughed a little in response. dean would’ve been annoyed at the height joke but he was so honored you were naming a kid after him.

“what about this little guy?” garth asked.

“bobby,” you smiled.

no one went on any hunts for almost two weeks. they all stayed and helped with the babies. baby dean would be named dean jack y/l/n, baby sam would be named samuel charles y/l/n, and baby bobby would be named robert garth y/l/n.

[rubberduckyrye]

I really wanna hear your thoughts on the racism with Angie, I may not have been in the fandom for like 5 years now, but I have ALWAYS been so bothered by how she and Gonta are treated by the narrative and fandom back then but nobody wanted to talk about that back then too, so it's been refreshing seeing it brought up by you.

Honestly I've been screaming about Gonta ever since I got into the fandom--like, back in 2018? Angie I've known for a while her story was a bunch of racist stereotypes but as a pastey pastey white person, I wasn't sure how much I should speak on it. I started talking about it more casually on my blog at first, and now I'm just screaming it into the void because everyone keeps ignoring or dismissing me about it.

I'll start off by saying that the extent of her racist caricature was really brought to my attention by my partner Celest, and she pointed out the initial stereotypes that lead me to further researching on Pacific Islander cultures, Indigenous cultures, and the stereotypes that are associated with them. Even the use of "Atua", while at first glance seems to be more accurate and inclusive, is incredibly inaccurate at best, and racist at worst.

But I'm getting ahead of myself--time to wipe my hands of this once and for all and talk about the thing that the fandom doesn't want to talk about--how Angie is a racist stereotype of Indigenous and Pacific Islander cultures.

I'm gonna need a lot of resources for this one.

So the biggest problem with Angie is how she is characterized/heavily coded to be Native Hawaiian/an indigenous Polynesian young woman. While I can't find any specific articles about specifically Indigenous Polynesian stereotypes regarding it, I know for a fact that the "Merciless Indian Savage" applies heavily to native/indigenous Polynesian cultures just from the horrible media I was subjected to as a child by my own father. Of course I was never taught about how racist it was until I learned it for myself, but I've seen many a movie where Pacific Islanders, specifically indigenous, were portrayed as savage, violent subhuman cultures that horrifically sacrificed human lives and blood.

I can't tell if this just, isn't well documented or I'm bad at finding research material, but I have first hand experience seeing this stereotype in modern media, so I know it's a thing. Like in King Kong movies--I remember those older movies being especially bad about it. This movie was made in 2005 and is one of the most racist depictions I've ever seen and be warned this is quite disgusting to watch with the context of this being incredibly fucking racist.

(Please remember that King Kong's island is, well, an uncharted island called Skull Island. It's an island in the middle of the ocean. Do I need to say any more as to why this is a huge problem.)

The top comments on this video are also incredibly fucking racist too:

"The natives are scarier than the big scary monster" "I would be scared of directing this scene" like Jesus fucking Christ do you people even hear yourselves.

Anyway. Yeah this movie's depiction of natives is incredibly racist and I'm sorry to subject you to this scene. I just want to specify what I mean though when I say I've seen this shit so much in media and yet I'm struggling to find people talking about it. Like, I'm not going crazy, right?

Still.

The fact that in Angie's FTEs, she bluntly describes blood and even implies human sacrifices is enough to invoke such horrible cringe from me, but the fact that her "native island" is referred to as "strange" with fauna that attack humans is also reminiscent of the racism presented for specifically Pacific Islander stereotypes.

This specific instance is especially telling, because--

If this "DeepSea" shipping service can ship just about anything--including organ meat, children, and blood--then what on earth is Angie talking about when she says they don't stock "Offerings"?

The likelihood is that she's referring to adult humans--as these children from this "shipping" company are clearly trafficking human children, blood, and organ meat. Since we know blood offerings are something from "Angie's culture", it can't be blood offering's she's referring to. Since it only lacks those two things according to Angie, that's the only thing that can be really inferred/implied--adult human sacrifices.

This is also shown here in Kaede's second FTE with her:

Angie is having a nightmare about the blood/human sacrifices necessary for her "culture" and "island", and is clearly struggling and horrified with it. This also plays into the racist stereotype in that Angie is Not Like the Other Savages and condemns her people's practices, even if only internally/privately, and portrays her as a victim of something almost cult-like--which from the clip you saw above, is still a heavily racist stereotype of indigenous cultures due to how the "Merciless Violent Savage" appears cult-like when you involve human sacrifices.

So let's talk about Atua.

This is very much only in the english version, but the use of Atua to replace "god" in a more singular fashion is incredibly inaccurate. From my understanding, "Atua" more so refers to the gods of Māori mythology. The way Angie refers to Atua in canon is more like how one would refer to a singular god. The Hawaiian Kupua, something that wikipedia seems to suggest is the Native Hawaiian version of Atua, also expresses polytheistic customs.

So yeah. the English dub made it worse.

But wait, there's more!

Now I have. No idea where this "custom" came from, as when I looked it up I just got a whole lot of nothing--but notice how Shuichi is reacting to it. The custom presented is supposed to be extremely weird and even terrifying, invoking the reader to see Angie as strange/abnormal. She continues on talking about her "island's customs", and--

The sexuality presented here is very obvious--presenting the fluidity of sexuality one might see in Pacific Islander cultures as abnormal, bizarre, or down-right wrong. A small article for this one because I cannot find the other one I originally read: 1 but the general idea is that Christan/Conservative ideology has oppressed the gender and sexuality of a lot of Polynesian cultures. To express that Angie's culture is "exotic" and "strange" for its fluid sexuality is inherently racist in nature. I don't think this is an intended character flaw--this is blatantly the bias of the writers for V3.

Now for this specific one, I've completely lost the article I read it on, so take my words with a grain of salt. However, a big stereotype of Polynesian cultures is that they are extremely carefree--something that we see Angie being in canon without her FTEs. This is portrayed as a mask by the fandom, however, so it's a bit of a sketchy one to include. Still wanted to mention it though.

Anyway--these are all things I've learned from doing research, and I still can't find a lot of information about it. Pacific Islanders/Polynesians/Native Hawaiian people are often incredibly silenced and spoken over, which is why writing this post up was so incredibly frustrating to me.

I know these stereotypes exists for these cultures--but I cannot find many resources on the subject matter.

As someone who is trying their hardest to be racially aware and sensitive, it is very frustrating to try and comb the internet to find resources to reference, and the best thing you can find is a god-damn Wikipedia page. No, really. I could not find any reliable sources on anything outside of Wikipedia. Again I could just be really bad at finding research material/it could also be that the internet is getting so much worse about finding articles on subjects like this, but I digress. The fact that it's this difficult to find things--and then to re-find things, as I mentioned earlier, some of the articles I found are just, gone now--is a testament to how much of a problem this really is.

And it's so frustrating that I keep getting silenced/ignored about the matter because I want to learn. I want to learn what stereotypes to avoid for this demographic of people and their culture. I want to learn how I can fix a character like Angie--who I DO like, by the way--and make her much less of a stereotype in my own AU. I want to learn if the Atua and the Kupua are interchangeable words like Wikipedia suggests. I want to learn for my own Native Hawaiian OC so I can write him correctly. I, as a white person who doesn't have access to this culture, want to learn about it so I can accurately portray it and help fight against the negative stereotypes that people 5 years ago thought was "great storytelling."

But I can't learn anything if the fandom keeps ignoring me because they're too afraid to acknowledge the racism is there at all, in fear that them liking a racist caricature of a character makes them racist.

And to that, I say: Please stop ignoring me. I want to learn. I want to talk to people about the subject. I want to find someone willing to talk about the culture and educate me. I can't do that if I am constantly ignored.

So. Yeah.

Sorry if this is a little haphazard, my brain died halfway through making it because finding the research materials to showcase my points was incredibly difficult. Literally have been here for hours.

I hope this can be spread around though--so people understand why it's important to have this discussion, why it's important to acknowledge the racism, and why it's so frustrating to feel silenced/ignored when all you want to do is better yourself and your own knowledge.

So... let's talk. Let's talk about the racism in Angie's character--and how we, as a fandom, can address it.

[honoviadakai]

What team Urameshi looks for in a partner 💚💙💜🖤

Yusuke:

So thankfully we already have a blueprint of what he likes

I present to you ✨Keiko Yukimura! ✨

This is the gold standard of what this man wants in his partner

He’s more female leaning buuuut I do get the vibe he’d be open to attempting to date men

He wants someone who isn’t afraid put him in his place when he’s getting out of hand

Someone that could put the fear of god in him with just one look

This dude fights demons on the reg, but the thing that will always scare the piss outta him is the partner he loves with all his soul being legit pissed at him

He also wants someone who’s smarter than him

He knows he’s an idiot, one of them has to be the smart one cuz it sure as hell ain’t this knucklehead 🥴

He won’t appreciate someone who’s controlling so please just let him take that long trip to demon world

He absolutely understands that sometimes asking for his partner to wait over 1 years for him to return is asking so much of a person’s patience but he will always appreciate and love his partner more for dealing with his shit

Once he does stay in one place, all he asks is that they just live life to the fullest everyday for the rest of their lives

Kuwabara:

Ok so like Yusuke, we also have a blueprint for Kuwabara!

✨the lovely Yukina✨

This is the type of person he wants as a lover

He wants someone who’s sweet & caring

Literally his bare minimum is that the person is capable of respect and empathy and has a kind enough soul to help when they can

He understands that they can’t help everyone in all situations

but it’s the drive to want to help everyone that he finds so attractive

He leans more towards preferring women but I have a feeling he’s experiment in his 20s

I don’t think he’d expect/want a combative partner

He’s more than capable of fighting to protect his lover so he’d rather they not fight, or at least not often

Deep down he’s scared to lose his lover because he wasn’t there for them so don’t think it’s because he thinks they’re weak

He absolutely doesn’t think his partner is weak! Ever!

Even if his partner is a healer, he recognizes the strength of heart to stay in a scary situation with a bunch of wounded people around them when they could run and no one would blame them for doing so

If anything he thinks he’s the weak one but wants to prove himself wrong by keeping his partner safe

He just wants that wholesome married life with a lover that loves him just as much as he loves them 😭🙏

Kurama:

Ok

So fox boy here is kinda tricky

Like in ever sense possible

Because he’s very much someone who feels very lax on preferences

Male or female?

Either is fine

Combatant or noncombatant

Either is fine

I think what it comes down to for him is intelligence and a strong bond

The intelligence point can go in either direction though

And I mean to the farthest extreme

Of course he’d like someone just as or even more intelligent than him

He likes having long adult conversations and let’s be honest…it’s not coming from his teammates 🤣

He like puzzles so having to work out how his partner thinks in his big foxy brain is very fun and enriching for him

But he also likes having conversations with people who are…we’ll use the word naive to be polite

Their world view is so innocent and pure and they’re usually very blunt so he’s just always gonna know what they’re thinking, it’s kinda refreshing tbh

What matters at the end of the day is that they’re loyal

He’s betrayed people before and people have betrayed him before

He knows what it’s like to be on both sides and he doesn’t want to cause his partner that kind of pain or be at the receiving end of that pain

Another big one for him is they absolutely, positively, must get along with his mom

And she’s gotta like them back

If they get him mom’s blessing, it’s basically a sealed deal for him

As far as he’s concerned, that’s the day they got married 🤣

If they want him to pull the ring out immediately, they gotta accept that he’s a demon

The moment he tells them about his past as Yoko and they take it super well

✨💍 ✨

Ngl, Yoko might come out to pounce them so fair warning

Also he’s a bit of a cheeky bastard who likes to tease and poke fun at people he’s comfortable with

His partner is no exception to this so he’s like them to have a sense of humor and not take life too seriously

Hiei:

Ooooh this guy

Oh this emotionally stunted gremlin man

Ok so first of all, he has no gender preference

He does not care what’s between your legs, he wants someone strong

Or at least someone capable of protecting themselves in a fight and can spar with him

Imma let y’all know rn that this is not a set rule

If all you have is an unbreakable will and a heart of gold, you have a shot

He will swear up and down that he prefers demons

And to an extent it’s true cuz humans have short lifespans and he doesn’t wanna deal with that

Show him genuine kindness and watch this mf fold like a lawn chair

Humans are usually the ones with the biggest hearts so I guarantee his partner is either gonna be a very kind human or a very kind demon

The bottom line is they just have to show genuine kindness and affection

It’s gonna freak him out but once he gets use to it, he ain’t ever letting go

He’ll cut his tongue out before he says it out loud but he kinda prefers dense, naive people

It’s pretty much the same reason as Kurama’s tbh

He likes blunt people and, in his experience…idiots don’t have filters and are very honest 🤣

He never has to read the mind of someone like that or even consider doubting them cuz they’ll just say what they mean and mean what they say

He kinda respects that

It’s also kinda hot to him

Hiei is moron-sexual confirmed 😂

He does like smart people but his best friend is Kurama…he’s kinda over Kurama’s bs and wouldn’t know how to handle 2 people like him in close proximity

Now if he manages to find a partner that’s a naive sweetheart but has an insane battle IQ

He might actually just pass away

That’s hot to him

They also shouldn’t be pushovers

If he’s being an asshat and barking up a storm, he wants them to bite him to make him tone down his attitude(sometimes literally)

Maybe it’s because he’s just so over how his old “family” treated him when he was a bandit

Maybe it’s the trauma of being rejected by his mother’s people and then getting thrown off a cliff

Maybe it’s the combination of the two

But the bottom line is he needs/wants someone who will love him unconditionally and be kind even when he’s being an asshole

[thebluestbluewords]

"Hey, Squeaks." 

Squeaky freezes. 

Mal sighs. She's not trying to scare the kid. She's only interested in being wicked and evil to the Auradon brats these days, and she's been actively trying to be friendly to the kids who are living in her house now. (Thanks, Evie, for that one). 

"At ease, tiny one," she commands. "I come in peace." 

Squeaky relaxes, one tiny, fractional inch at a time. His (their? The twins are basically tiny, silent shadows around the house so far, and Mal doesn't actually know what the kids go by, beyond allowing her crew to call them Squeaks and Squirms in an attempt to feel like they're friends) hand is hovering slightly in front of the fridge, which Mal, in her all-knowing wisdom of being eighteen and old enough to understand at least some things, assumes means he's hungry. 

"You here for food?" Mal guesses, and is rewarded with a tiny, fractional nod. "Cool, me too. You want to scavenge for leftovers again, or should we be brave and try cooking?" 

Squeaky shrugs, a tiny motion. 

Right. They've had the twins here at Evie's place for all of a week so far, and nobody except for Dizzy has been able to get them to talk. No reason to think they're going to start now, at least not with Mal. She's the big mean princess now, the one who's connected to the scary Auradon adults who keep wanting to do things like poking and prodding at them and taking blood and doing other awful things, like giving them school aptitude tests, which made Squirmy cry and Squeaky go very red and flustered and unsure what to do with his hands. Mal's the one who gets to drag them to fun things like that, so it's really not a surprise that they're not talking to her now. 

"Well, I'm going to make chicken nuggets," Mal decides, moving deliberately, so that it's very obvious where she's going. “And apple slices. Have you had apples yet?" 

This gets a nod. 

"D'you want me to make some for you too?" 

Another nod. 

Cool. Great. They've progressed to communication, which is wonderful. The sort of progress that should be celebrated. Preferably with cake, but chicken nuggets and apple slices will have to do, as Mal’s baking skills are not nearly as solid as her skills in other things, like magic and knives and being scary around the real princess-types, who mostly treat her like the monster she is to anyone not from the isle. 

The celebratory apples (and nuggets, for that matter) are in the fridge. Squeaky, inconveniently, is still standing frozen in front of the fridge. Mal, in order to do her duty as one of the oldest people in the house, needs access to the fridge, because it's pretty fucking hard to heat up food when you can't get to said food, and her magic is good, but it's not good enough to levitate a bag of frozen meat out of the freezer, through the door, and into her hand so she can put them in the microwave. 

Scratch that. She's putting these in the oven. They've had successful communication. Multiple nods. Basically a whole conversation. This is deserving of quality oven nuggets, and maybe even chocolate milk on the side.  

[unnervinglyferal]

What do you do when everything is scary???

When everything seems so intimidating.

Dying scares me, but so does living. It scared me that my mind tells me I'm not enough for him and that I don't deserve him even when he tells me and shows me otherwise. Im scared of how my mind tells me that my love for him is a lie when I miss him every day and I want him with me all the time, when I want him to meet my family, when I feel so happy when I am with him and his mother, and his sister and all his family. I'm scared of becoming an adult but I'm scared of having to live in this house forever.

I'm so tired and everything is so overstimulating. Everything is so loud, and si stressing and so painful. Opening up to feel again hurts, it makes me overthink so bad. I know this is normal, but I just dont know what to do sometimes.

I just want to hold onto him and my friends forever. I know I've done bad things, and I feel like I don't deserve any of this, but I want to have it. I've never killed or harmed anyone with these hands but my consience hurts so much.

I want you guys -my friends and my boyfriend. I want to be with all of you forever. I'm so scared but I want to go forwards.

It sucks but you just have to tell yourself "ok I'm scared of everything but I'm doing it" and grit your teeth to push through that. Terror rings in your ears like silence after a loud blast. It makes no sense that silence would be that fucking loud, but that doesn't mean you're not hearing it or that you'd have to act like you don't, or convince yourself that you're not hearing anything.

You're scared when everything's better now. You lived so long in a way where being terrified was the only reasonable thing to do, so it's still on you. It's still with you. You're tired and overwhelmed and need to rest. When I was at the spot you are now, I spent months in bed (don't recommend doing that, I'm still recovering from fucking my body up like that), but it's like ringing in your ears. It's there, you can hear it, it's real even when it's just in your head. But it's going to fade. It's best to not try to do anything about it, it will get easier with time.

Also nobody deserves anything in this world. You're not evil and you can have good in life. G-d doesn't give good things to good people and bad things to bad people. Don't think that, you're not a christian.

[random-potato-mil]

So I watched Asher Gharavi new shorts video about The Mourner and it send my brain in a creative spiral.

I don't write very often and mostly for school, but I felt like writing this down. Dosent have anything to do with the short other than the concept of the mourner and how it works.

So if you wanna read that it's under the cut:

Tw: mention of dead, illness and similar

Sry for spelling mistakes I can't be bothered to fixed them.

They say that stories live forever and i suppose thats the reason im writing this. One last story so there is still a part of me left when im gone.

The stories call it the mourner. A creature with a human like siluote. If you see it from a distance it would fool you, but when it is right in front of you its a diffrent story. Its eyes are long and dripping, red around the edges, with a milky dust color. No iris. And its skin is cracky like old dry wall, its limps seeming unable to hold themselves up. It would look completly dead if not for the slow rythmic moves of its body when it breathes.

You probably already know what it means when someone has seen the mourner, but this is not some heart warming victory story of narrowly avoding my own dead and living to tell the tale. No. The mourner is still here with me as i write.

However before going any furtere with my story i need to confess something. I dident belive the mourner was real. I thought it was just some tale told to scare kids or some mass hallucination. It seems more likely that peopel experiencing near death events starts hallucinating and sees the creatures that they have been told would show up. But it does exists. At least i dont want to belive its an hallucination. It calms me. I know i know. Most peopel describe it as beeing scary and feeling fear as they see it. And i understand why someone would feel that way. Beeing scared of the mourner. But you cant really blame it for how it looks.

When it came my first thoughts was something of the lines of "guess its my time now". That might sound very depressing but i have known for a while i dident have a lot of time left. The doctors have increased my medication recently and i am stuck in bed. I do get visits and see the nurse's then and there, but it still feels very lonely. And do know i dont blame anyone for me feeling this way. I know they are sparring all the time they can to come check on me, despite it not beeing a pretty version of me to remember. My grandkid Brielle couldent even regonise me with all the tubes, and hided behind her mom. She is such a sweet little girl, and it broke my heart.

I suppose that might have influenced my reaction to the mourner. Despite its looks it reminded me of some etheral mother forced to see its children pass away. All the stories of survivers telling that the mourner helped them escape their fate made alot more sense after i saw it myself. It looked like it wanted to help. To change my fate. But it was simply unable too.

The mourner took a seat at the bed next to mine, and laid a hand on the blanket that hugged me. Its dripping eyes looking at me sadly. I think it might have been crying for me. Is crying for me. It stayed silent. After a bit i gathered enough strength to say a weak "your real" though a few coughs and give my best smile. A sad smile.

The mourner hasent left my side since then, and i do enjoy the company. I do feel my power weaken and my body giving away to this diseases growing inside of me, but im not scared. I think it will be okay on the other side.

Call me naive but seeing the mourner has given me the belief in the supernatural. If it can exists why not an afterlife?

I suppose the moral of the story is that you shouldent be scared of the mourner. It dosent mean any harm. And to my daughter. I love you. You have grown into a wonderful adult. Im sorry i wont be able to be with you in the future. You got this.

Love

- Gran

[renaiswriting]

Velvet embrace (part 3)

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo/Reader

Summary:

Shadow people were always there in your life. They never disturbed you; they never interacted with you; it was like there was a pact between both of you to simply ignore each other. They saw you grow from a baby to an adult.

So why are you now getting attached to one of them who keeps looking out for you?

Warnings: none, I think (?)

Word count: +2.5k word

If you want to be tagged, please fill out the tag list form

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The notes under your bedroom door and the knocking on your door never stopped.

 

Sometimes they were so overwhelming and frightening that you ended up sleeping with headphones in your ears to muffle such noises.

 

You had been fine with the routine you already had, somehow established with the rest of the shadows in the house.

 

But to know that they knew your name, that had been crossing the line.

 

The day after that, you woke up with big dark circles under your eyes and a bad migraine from lack of sleep.

 

But somehow you managed to carry on with your life as if nothing had happened. You went down to the kitchen and washed the dishes that had been used while you were locked in your room.

 

That same afternoon, after class, you went from store to store until you found something heavy enough to cover your door and avoid having to receive more notes.

For the time being, it had worked relatively well.

 

But it hadn't really stopped the shadow from leaving you messages.

 

While they couldn't get under the door now, you often woke up with little notes in the hallway outside your door.

 

They usually just said short words, like "hello" or your name.

 

Which was kind of scary, but you preferred that to being scared in the night.

 

The notes never lasted long on the floor because, as soon as you saw them, you would pick them up and throw them in the trash can.

 

You hoped that it would understand that you didn't want to engage in any kind of conversation.

"Why are you sad?" Your cousin asked, her voice sounding muffled thanks to the low internet signal. Her face glitched for a while, frozing into a funny face that made you chuckle.

 

"I am feeling kind of lonely." You confessed that there was no use in trying to avoid her question; you knew she would keep asking and insisting until she got an answer. "And the house... Isn't really helping me either. Everything kind of makes me remember her."

 

"I'm so sorry," your cousin pouted, moving closer to the screen. "Aren't your parents going to visit you or something?"

 

"Yeah, they are. But they also have busy lives. I mean, they have to work and all that. I don't want to bother them. But it's alright," you quickly added, noticing the sadness on her face. "I'll probably see her this Friday anyway; I'll mostly likely feel better by then."

 

"I can go and keep you company if you want." She offered. "I've never been to your grandma's house; it sounds like fun."

"I don't know... Aren't you already in your finals week? I don't want you to—"

 

"Nonsense." She interrupted you. "Besides, you will also be gone most of the time for your classes, right? I'll study while you're not in the house, and I'll wait for you with a homemade dinner." She offered, raising her eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner. "How long has it been since the last time you actually made a homemade meal instead of those instant noodles?"

 

You didn't reply, but your cheeks were tinted pink because it's been an embarrassingly long time since the last time you used the oven for more than five minutes.

 

"It will be really fun, I promise." She added. "It will definitely cheer you up to have someone over."

 

The video call ended with promises of texting the next morning to actually plan everything.

 

You were panicking; how and what could be a good excuse to avoid having her over?

 

You loved her; she was such a loyal cousin, and you could tell her almost everything, but how could you explain the whole shadow thing and the big bill you were paying because of the need to have bright lights on in your bedroom all night?

 

And the curfew for the bathroom and kitchen?

 

God, it would be such a mess.

You stood up from your comfortable bed with a sigh, stretching your arms above your head.

It was getting late, and you surely had to eat something. But truth be told, you were not in the mood to eat or cook.

You opted instead to go to the bathroom and take a long, hot shower to see if the warmth from it helped you feel less sad.

The hot water fell onto your back and made some of the tenseness in your shoulders disappear, as if you were under warm hands giving you a massage.

You pocked your head out of the shower, trying to see the time on your phone. You only had a few more minutes of light, and you wanted to get out before it was completely dark outside.

Your phone was nowhere to be found.

 

You frowned. Have you forgotten it in your bedroom?

 

This was bad.

 

You rushed to end the shower, covering yourself with a towel and running towards your bedroom.

 

Your bedroom door was wide open.

 

You were really not in your best mindset, because how on earth have you forgotten to close it?

You shut the door close behind you, holding the doorbell so tight that it hurt your hand.

Dropping your weight onto your bed, you sighed.

Maybe this has all been way too much for you.

The burning feeling of your cry on the back of your throat overwhelmed you, making you cover your eyes from such bright light and letting some tears fall on your cheeks.

You felt like you were losing your mind.

And that terrified you.

A sob scaped your mouth, and then another one, and another one...

Your hand quickly moved to cover your mouth, trying to muff the sound when the tv volume went higher downstairs. However, your sobs were still coming out of your mouth uncontrollably.

The sound of some knuckles hitting against the other side of your door were slowly starting to fill what was left of silence in your room.

You ignored it, in hopes of it going away.

But it only seemed to make whatever that was making it increase it.

"Stop it!" You yelled without much thinking, feeling how your throat was left burning after such strength used. "Can you stop for once?!"

The knocks stoped as soon as your yell faded into the rest of the sounds of the house.

A bad feeling invaded your guts, making you shiver.

What have I done?

You laid frozen on your bed, scared that it has get upset and therefore will hurt you. Your eyes were trying to catch the slightly noise, whatever that could give you a hint that it was still outside.

But you didn't catch anything.

However, what you did in fact catch was your phone ringing outside of your bedroom, informing you of a call.

Your eyes started wandering around, didn't you have left your phone in your room?

It was fishy.

You debated with yourself if it would be a good idea to open the door, in the slightest possible way, and see if you were actually alouding.

 

You walked towards the door, your hand frozen in the doorbell. In your mind, you were counting until ten, trying to see if that would help you calm down your erratic heartbeat.

 

Your phone stopped ringing, and now there was a scary silence.

 

Even the TV, which until not so long ago was at least halfway up to its volume capacity, was now dead silent.

 

You slowly moved your head towards the woody door, resting your ear against it, trying to catch any hint of someone, of something, of anything.

 

Nothing.

 

Your hand was as shaky as your breath when you raised it in a punch, your knuckles softly knocking on the door. Once.

 

You almost prayed that nothing would answer it.

 

You really wanted to believe everything was nothing but an effect of your not-so-pretty sleeping schedule and the stress you were under.

 

But, to your horror, almost what felt like an eternity later, a single knock answered yours.

 

Your scream got caught in the back of your throat, and only a weird half-scream, half-cry came out of your mouth.

Your phone suddenly started ringing again, mixing with every other noise in the house. It was as if every single noise had intensified with the two seconds of silence before.

Another knock on the door was heard, less intense, almost as if it were doubting itself.

"Please, stop." You pleaded. "I didn't do anything; please leave me alone."

You wanted to laugh; since when did you beg them to?

Two weeks ago, you were yelling at them to make less noise.

You heard something that sounded like a sigh on the other side of the door before hearing another door open and close.

Your shaking hands were touching your heart, feeling how fast it was beating against your chest.

There were tears still running down your cheeks, and some were still on your eyes, making everything blurry.

Your nose was running and making a mess on your face.

You moved your ear closer to the door once again, trying to catch any other sound.

Nothing.

As silently as you possibly could, you opened the door. It cracked, making your heart sink for a moment, but nothing happened.

You opened it enough for your eye to see the other side; the light coming from your room was enough to identify the other doors (all closed, thankfully) on the empty hall.

Your eyes scamper through the narrow space carefully before, using every single bit of bravery in yourself, you opened the door to find your phone.

It didn't take long; in fact, it didn't even take a minute to find it because it was right next to the door.

The screen informed you that you had a total of five missed calls, with the number that had been trying to contact you being the same phone from the house.

The one that was on the wall, next to the fridge, in the kitchen

This was a new one.

It had been trying to contact you.

For some reason, the thought of one of them dialing your own phone number sends a shiver down your spine.

How did they learn your phone number?

You raised your eyes once again, looking in the direction of the door that you heard earlier closing.

Has it been the same shadow?

Or was the one calling you a different one?

You were just about to close the door when your eyes fell on something else on the floor, next to the phone you just picked up.

There was a plate.

Full of soup.

Homemade soup.

You frowned.

It wasn't there before.

And it seemed to still be hot.

 

Your finger wandered around it for some time, choosing whether to leave it there or take it inside with you.

 

Your stomach was still feeling a little bit empty.

 

Taking one last glance at the multiple closed doors, you carefully took it inside.

 

It was meant to be for you, right?

 

Your head was telling you one thing, and your stomach was telling you another one.

 

You took a spoonful of it, bringing it closer to your nose, trying to notice anything that smelled like poison.

 

You could only pick up the smell of pumpkin, potatoes, carrots, and espárragos.

 

Nothing out of the ordinary.

 

Your stomach grew once again, and you just gave in to the hunger of the moment, filling your mouth with it.

 

It tasted amazing.

 

It immediately brings you back to the memories of when you were little and your mother would prepare a soup like this to make you feel better.

 

It was well accepted by your stomach, which quickly begged you for more.

 

And before you knew it, the plate was empty, and your chin was the only evidence of the soup that you had finished in a new record time.

 

Your head was still hurting, and your eyes were burning, but somehow a tiny smile decorated your face.

You looked down at the empty plate without knowing what could be the best choice.

 

You didn't want to leave it in your bedroom because the smell of soup would never leave your room, but you didn't want to risk it, and you had an angry shadow at the other side of the door waiting for you to accuse you of stealing their soup.

"I will have to face them one day." You thought, taking a deep breath before opening your door and ignoring your shaking legs.

As you expected, there was nobody there.

 

Or at least, the barely visible light coming from your room through the tiny space into which you have opened your door didn't show any sort of humanoid figure.

 

But if there was one of them hiding at the back of the hallway, you chose to ignore it for your own sake.

 

You felt awkward leaving it just there, like, would it take it as a "clean it, thank you," or would it make it feel happy knowing that you actually ate it?

 

Everything was so confusing, and your stomach was starting to feel sick the more you thought about it.

You slowly started kneeling on the ground to deposit the plate as carefully as possible, trying to avoid making any sort of noise.

 

If this shadow was nice enough to leave you alone, you weren't sure about the other three that you were (kind of) getting used to.

"Thank you." You said to the empty air that you felt like you needed to say something. It was like you, at least, owned it that way.

You stood there for a few minutes, your knuckles turning white as you held yourself tighter to the doorbell.

 

Nothing happened.

 

Nobody spoke.

 

None of the doors opened.

 

And you weren't sure what you were expecting.

 

But you closed the door, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment.

You shrugged, telling yourself to stop that nonsense and closing the door with your back.

 

Your shoulders relaxed once you heard the click behind your body.

 

You stood there for a while, your back resting against the door, trying to still think about what had happened and how you had reacted.

 

You really needed to start getting your shit together.

Your arms were crossed over your chest, the weight of your own arms helping to calm your still, erratic heartbeat.

A soft knock resonated in the silent room.

 

You felt it through the woody door directly to your back.

 

You expected another one, but it never came.

You weren't sure if it was because of the exhaustion of all the emotions you experimented with in such a short amount of time or your body simply passing out to finally have more than four hours of sleep, but the next morning you woke up in a rush.

You overslept, and we're already late for the schedule of the day.

So you picked up the first pair of jeans you found and practically flew towards the bathroom.

In the rush, you didn't see what was sitting on the ground in front of your door.

You hissed, falling on the floor on your ass, holding your foot closer to your chest, massaging the place where it hurt, trying to find what had been the cause of your pain.

Your eyes fell on a rock.

It was a shiny black rock.

Plain.

You frowned, not quite remembering having it before, but you shrugged, picking it up and putting it back on your bed to avoid stepping on it again.

Once you stepped into the bathroom and turned the light on, you almost had a heart attack.

 

Writing on the mirror was: "Sorry for scaring you. Wonwoo."

[cromulentbookreview]

Fun with Fungi!

Huh, what's this? *cleans away dust* oh, yeah, this blog is still a thing. I probably should've written more reviews, but...

I mean, I could come up with an excuse, but I'm too lazy. Just as I am too lazy to continually update this book review blog that nobody reads. I mean, I just wrote a review *consults calendar* uh. In 2022. Dang, I have been lazy. Oh well.

I'm like a rug on valium, I'm talking lazy.

And by that, I mean: let's have a dual review of the Sworn Soldier series: What Moves the Dead and its sequel, What Feasts at Night by T. Kingfisher!

Those covers, man. They're awesome, but at the same time: poor bun bun. Poor horsie.

So technically, what I'm doing here is not one but two reviews. So I'm actually being really, really productive right now and not lazy in the slightest.

This is a legitimately true story, I swear. Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away...by which I mean, four or five years back or so, I'd never heard of T. Kingfisher / Ursula Vernon in my life until I got into a fight with her on Twitter* on whether or not the fruit of the hazel tree should be referred to as Filberts or Hazelnuts.

For the record, I am firmly team hazelnut. I mean, they're nuts from a hazel tree. Hazel+nuts = hazelnuts. Who in their right mind wants to eat something called a filbert? But, terminology varies as T. Kingfisher is firmly on team filbert. My parents also call them filberts on occasion which is weird to me as we live in an area lousy with hazelnut farms.

Mmmm, Hazelnuts...

Anyway! I had no idea who this person was but I got into a tongue-in-cheek gif fight on Twitter with them regarding hazelnut v. filbert. Feeling bad that I got into a fight with a random person online on their hazel tree fruit name preferences, I went to their profile, saw they were an author, looked up their books and bought the two books of the Clocktaur Wars series. I tore through them, and continued on, reading all of the World of the White Rat series (I just saw that we're getting a new one in January and I might have let out a bit of a fangirl screech), and the absolutely delightful A Wizard's Guide to Defensive Baking and Minor Mage. So far, every single one of T. Kingfisher's books that I've read has been awesome. Nettle & Bone? Amazing. Thornhedge? I'm a very slow reader, but I devoured it in an afternoon.

T. Kingfisher writes amazing fantasy novels and I absolutely love them. She also writes horror. Which is where I hit a brick wall because I'm a baby who doesn't handle horror well. I don't like horror movies. I don't often read horror books. Because the world is scary enough without ghosts and poltergeists and demons and jump scares. Also I watched The Ring when I was 12 and it scared the shit out of me. Anyway! Oddly enough, I've always found myself drawn to horror-type stories. I mean, horror fits so well in fantasy and sci-fi (looking at you, Doctor Who episodes that gave me nightmares). As an adult, I've found myself more and more willing to dip my toe into horror fiction. Season 1 of The Terror, one of my favorite-ever TV series is considered horror (maybe because it's not jump-scare scary, it's existentially scary. Also it's set in the past. Also it's got dudes-on-boats, my favorite genre). Part of me really, really likes horror stories set in the past - no horror like 18th/19th/Early 20th century horror, amirite?

Right?

Well, whatever, I just like horror to be ye olde timey horror, OK? Like Crimson Peak, The Witch, The Death of Jane Lawrence, Mexican Gothic, The Woman in Black, The Hacienda, Vampires of El Norte, The Hunger ... spooky-scary Gothic-y-Romantic-y-type stories that have a historical element to them. Those are awesome. I'm slowly - very slowly! - getting myself to read more contemporary horror stories. I understand that The Twisted Ones and A House With Good Bones are really, really good, but....what can I say, I'm a wuss. And contemporary stories aren't really my jam. I read to get away from the contemporary world, damn it!

(Me, too scared to read contemporary horror but not too scared to listen to 900,000 true crime podcasts).

Right, where were we?

Oh, yeah. The review(s). I'm starting to understand why no one ever read this blog and why I let myself be lazy.

-

In What Moves The Dead we meet Alex Easton, a Gallacian ex-soldier on their way to visit their old friends, the Ushers, at their delipidated estate in the rural countryside of Ruravia. Alex had word that Madeline Usher was dying, and they wanted to be there for Madeline and her brother, Roderick. Roderick had been a fellow soldier with Alex back in the day and -

Wait a minute, Roderick and Madeline Usher? Delipidated mansion? Unspecified 19th century middle of nowhere...

Yep, this story is, indeed, a retelling of Poe's The Fall of the House of Usher, and it does a much better job than certain series you might find on Netflix.

Moving on:

Alex, Roderick and Madeline were childhood friends, and Roderick and Alex even fought together back in the day. Alex is a "sworn soldier" - something unique to their home country of Gallacia, a small, backwater country located somewhere between Bulgaria, Hungaria and that other -Garia, a vaguely Central/Eastern European nation with a language somehow structurally worse than Finnish, Hungarian and Icelandic combined. The Gallacian language has seven sets of pronouns: there's one set used only when referring to God, a set used to refer to children before puberty, one set specifically for inanimate objects...and, as the Gallacians are a fierce warrior people (though they're not exactly great at it), there's a special pronoun set just for soldiers.

So, in Gallacia, anyone, regardless of gender, can waltz up to the nearest military recruitment post, declare themselves a soldier, and be given a sword and a new set of pronouns within the hour. Hence the term "sworn soldier."

Anyway!

Prior to arriving at the House of Usher, Alex encounters an Englishwoman, Miss Eugenia Potter, a mycologist studying the local mushrooms, and there are some gnarly-looking (and smelling!) mushrooms. In fact, the whole landscape around Usher House seems...off. Everything seems dead or dying. Random hares will stand up and just stare right at you.

And not in a cute way, either.

As if the landscape weren't bad enough, once Alex gets to the Usher House, Roderick himself barely resembles the soldier Alex once knew. His skin has gone bone-white and he's as thin as a skeleton. He seems terrified by something but can't quite articulate what. Madeline is still alive, but in bad shape. Not even Roderick's friend Denton, an American doctor, can say what is wrong with her and Roderick (Catalepsy? Anemia? Hysteria? Roomis Igloomis? Who knows?). Denton and Alex immediately figure it's something to do with their environment - the house is both rotting and falling apart around them - but Roderick insists that Madeline can't leave, and if she can't leave, he won't leave.

Determined to find out what's happening to their friends, Alex resolves to stay. But things in the House of Usher are starting to get weird. For one thing, Madeline sleepwalks far more than a dying woman should, speaking in a strange, child-like voice, there's a lake outside that seems to pulse and shine with odd lights, there's a legion of undead hares wandering around and, seriously, what is up with those mushrooms??? With the help of Denton, Miss Potter, and their trusty batman, Angus, Alex must figure out what the hell is going on with the House of Usher...before whatever it is starts to spread.

What Moves The Dead is short and sweet and the perfect book to read when it's cold and dreary outside - and definitely not one you want to read before eating a giant bowl of mushroom risotto. If you're looking for a fantastic, spooky-type read that reads like if Edgar Allan Poe and The Last of Us joined forces with an army of undead bunnies.

But!

Luckily for all of us, Alex Easton's adventures don't stop with the events at the House of Usher.

It's late in the autumn and poor Alex would much rather be in Paris. Unfortunately, Angus has successfully guilt-tripped them into a trip to Alex's family's old hunting lodge back in the Old Country, aka Gallacia. Nothing like good old Gallacia in the winter where everything is damp, cold, cold, and, you guessed it! Damp.

But the redoubtable British mycologist Miss Eugenia Potter wishes to study some Gallacian mushrooms, and Angus, who is absolutely sweet on her, pretty much voluntold Alex to come along to act as Miss Potter's translator and use their hunting lodge as a home base.

So instead of a beautiful late Autumn/Winter in Paris, Alex is stuck back home.

*Sigh* looks nice, doesn't it?

As much as Alex sulks at the thought of spending several weeks back home, it's not like they're going to say no to Angus and Miss Potter. Not after everything they went through with the Usher House *shudder*.

Unfortunately, when Angus and Alex arrive at the lodge to help get it ready for Miss Potter's arrival, the caretaker, Codrin, is nowhere to be found. A quick trip to the nearby village reveals that Codrin has been dead for the past two months. But the locals are being very cagey about what killed him - Codrin's daughter is very insistent that it was just a lung infection, nothing else, no further questions, goodbye.

Finding a replacement for Codrin proves difficult, as it seems none of the villagers want to go near the lodge because there's a rumor that Codrin wasn't killed by inflammation of the lungs, but by a creature called a Moroi - a woman who sits on your chest and quite literally steals your breath. And the rumor is, a Moroi has taken up residence at the Hunting Lodge.

Yikes.

After some effort, Alex manages to hire a new housekeeper: the ill-tempered Widow Botezatu, who brings her grandson Bors along with her. The Widow immediately hates Alex, thinking them a wastrel, but Bors is nice enough. Miss Potter arrives, complete with terrible Gallacian phrasebook, but it soon becomes clear things aren't quite right at the Lodge. Alex begins to experience strange dreams - dreams in which a woman is kneeling on their chest because, yep, the Moroi is very real, and it can get to you in your dreams, just like Groundskeeper Willie in Treehouse of Horror VI.

Which is to say like Freddie Kruger, but still.

When it becomes clear that the Moroi is after the residents of the lodge, it's up to Alex, Angus and Miss Potter to figure out how to defeat a creature that can infiltrate your dreams.

What Feasts at Night is just as creepy, eerie and atmospheric as What Moves the Dead - there is plenty of non-fungal body horror and, mercifully, no zombie bun buns. Kingfisher is fantastic at capturing the terror of having your ability to breathe taken from you, and of the dread of having to fight something you can't grasp while awake. How she manages to pack so much into two short novels, I have no idea.

RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone in the mood for some short, sweet spooky horror.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone who gets easily queasy, someone in the middle of eating a nice mushroom risotto, someone who really, really, really loves bunnies being alive and living their best lives, anyone who might wake up in the middle of the night with their cat on their chest staring directly into their eyes...

RELEASE DATE FOR WHAT FEASTS AT NIGHT: February 13, 2024

RATING FOR BOTH: 5/5

ANTICIPATION LEVEL FOR SWORN SOLDIER BOOKS: Chigori

*

[bcrcavcd]

@sisturn complains: “why are we going grave-robbing again?” abigail drifts to wendy’s side, her brow quirked, “aren’t there other places to get rare stuff? preferably without seeing a skeleton. those give me the heeby-jeebie—”

a small blue specter rises from a nearby headstone, making a pitiful wailing sound. abigail’s eyes narrow, and she immediately puts herself between wendy and the other ghost. the deceased twin moans irritably, swatting at him; the little spirit squeaks, retreating behind the headstone. he peeks out from behind it, looking between the twins with wide eyes. his gaze settles on wendy, and he gives a tiny whine — “scary! scary! help?” — while abigail still glowers at him, practically puffing herself up like an angry bird.

"Because the others at camp are too scared to get things from here..." Wendy illuminates, seeming as completely annoyed by the prospect of coming here as Abigail was. The last time they'd come here had felt so recent, and already the adults were out of gold? It felt preposterous in all honesty, to send a child out with the specters of the world. Wendy didn't mind going there at that point, finding herself at peace with all the doom and gloom around her. That didn't make it fair, however, and she felt a right to complain about it.

However, things change once the specter appears. Usually, the only times they would appear was if they were disturbed, or the full moon was present. Considering it was the middle of the day, that ruled out the latter, and she hadn't even begun digging up the graves yet. So, what was this one doing out?

With that in mind, Wendy also notices how small the ghost seems to be. She and Abigail were only ten, and yet the latter appeared the same size as the other ghosts, so the only thought that passed her mind was one that brought her great sadness. A smaller child than even she, forced into this world and unable to live through it. That poor child... No wonder it was awoken by their presence, such a restless soul must live behind those downtrodden eyes.

He wants help... Perhaps, from her annoyed sister who had every reason to be wary. The living sister was not, though. Such a small creature, he likely couldn't hurt a fly, could he? Much more frightened of them than they ever could be of him. So, she takes that first leap and turns to Abigail, hoping that her words would be enough to calm her down. "I know we don't often see creatures that are completely harmless, but I don't think there's anything we need to be worried about here..." She replies in her normal monotone, before she turns her attention fully to the little ghost.

"It's alright... I won't let Abigail hurt you, she just gets scared for me is all," Once that focus shifts, Wendy seems to be a lot softer in her toning, something that would be odd for anyone who knew her well. Maybe it was just the fact that the child was so young. Or maybe she felt pity for his situation. In any sense, her main priority was making sure the young one felt safe, even if there wasn't much he needed to worry about.

"It's awfully strange to see one like you without some sort of disturbance... Is there something that keeps you from your rest?" It was the least she could do, offering to help where she could. It didn't mean she would be able to do it, but at the very least she could hear him out. "I don't want you to think I can do anything, but the two of us will see what we can do to help..."

[lanwangjiismyreligion]

Warning: This post ist about personal experiences with emotional and narcissistic abuse in families. Please be aware that this content can eventually be triggering, thank you.

Yesterday I got an e-mail and it was written in regards to an article I posted on my small German blog last month. This article was my personal attempt to talk about a phrase I heard a few weeks before:

"Aren't we all a little bit narcissistic?"

Here is the link to my article. It is written in German but feel free to share anyway:

I took this phrase and made it the title of my article. I wrote about how such a phrase minimises and trivialises the harm of certain personality traits and in the end shifts the blame to the victims of emotional narcissistic abuse. This kind of societal gaslighting is often used in Germany, unfortunetly.

And this e-mail was such a touching feedback that made me think like rather spontenious: perhaps I should write some kind of memoir where I can collect and share some of my experiences so far? It would be so much nicer to have a book than just posting short articles on my blog ...

2 Seconds later, a shrieking voice screamed in my head: Am I out of my mind??? How could I think I had the skill or the guts to pull this of? How dare I'm that arrogant to think that this is a good idea? Do I want to be the next Stefanie Foo? How insolent, how prespumptous, how overbearing, how absurd and irrational ...

After my inner selfabuse faded a bit, it dawned me: It doesn't matter what I start writing the anxiety of trying and potentially standing out in the open is always there. It scares the hell out of me to be successful doesn't matter how small this success is.

And here ist are some more crazy thoughts:

I don't really think that, well, I know it sounds ridicules, but I don't really know if my experiences are qualified enough to justify writing a memoir.

I'll be blunt: Perhaps on an absurd level of self gaslighting I am not sure if I'm "traumatized" enough. Yeah, even as I write this, I feel that I must be crazy to think that my parents had been that bad.

Because its all so fresh, I mean that I' m able to recognice the possibility that I could be a narcissistic abuse survivor. After I published my fantasy book in September 2023 I started to feel fatigued and anxious instead of being happy. But I couldn't stop writing and I wanted to be a selfpublisher, so I fought. I was live on Instagram, reading chapters, I found an real life writing community were I'm active and do readings, I'm now a member of the team that runs the community, yes, I am successful in a small way.

But marketing was and is so, so scary, the thought of making my book - and in the end myself - public alone was and is terrifying. Yes, I did some things but it was far, far less then some "normal" selfpublisher does in a commercial writing carrier on average. Really far, far less.

I have not an official C-PTSD diagnosis.

I just discovered that in my family was some strange sickening pattern between children and adults that seemed to come from parts of my grandparents and that my parents showed the same behaviour, perhaps a little bit of a variant. My father showed this entitlement, he did the silent treatment, showed impulsive rage, one day something was okay, the other day not, so there were no rules, the jealousy he showed toward my friends and male lovers, he did the triangulation thing with me and my older sibllings, like I was the golden child but later I turned into a scapegoat within days and so on.

It took me until last year to recognize that depression, burnout, immune system problems, heart and blood preassure problems and anxiety where all normal illnesses we younger ones are dealing with until today. Some of these things I associate with PTSD or C-PTSD now, but actually I cannot say for sure because no one diagnosed me or the others. But depressioen and Burnout were diagnosed but it wasn't put into a connection as consequences from emotional abuse.

But this e-mail showed me that it seems there are people out there without a chance of getting a diagnosis who can identefy with my experience and now I'm sitting here thinking in circles:

[weirdcat1213]

volume 9 you say....hmm

i fear for my life to be completely honest

anyway HERE WE GO HERE ARE THE THOUGHTS

chap 1:

-geesus no pls no i dont wanna read anymore

-FLASHBACK TIME :D WIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

-3 days of crying is nothing when youre a trigun fan, am i right people :'D

-no im not fucking suffering cuz while all of that is happening the only thing on his mind is young livio NO IM FINE I SWEAR-

-lmao yeah wolfwood call him out >:D

-"you cant understand how i feel" my brother in christ YOURE SURROUNDED BY ORPHANS

-hmmmmmmmmm i mean im not sure if that applies here but who am i to tell him how he feels, sure buddy. happy for you

-geesus man not the dog, like....WHY THE DOG (i think ik why but still)

-tbh i would also go and ask for an explanation

-nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo :c

-ah shit so we're here now oh fuck oh shit okokok cool

-ah yes, sweet bait actually, makes me cry every time

-"once this ark scare is over we'll be living the high life" yeaaaahhhh....about that.....

-YO LEAVE THE ORPHAN ALONE DAMN

-thanks livio :3

chap 2:

-about his age i think hes on his 20s mentally but he looks like hes on his 30s, so hes still an adult but yknow...younger

-oh his eye :0 i love that tiny window between his glasses and his face where you can see his eyes, makes me sad every time

-the coolest mf

-"worse" you say...i wonder who did that to him...

-fuck off, take those fucking tears somewhere else old man

-OOOOOOHHHHH THAT PANEL!!! SO GOOD SO GOOD

-THANKS AGAIN LIVIO (livio's good actions counter: 2 so far) BUT FUCK THAT OLD MAN

chap 3:

-:c

-HES THERE AND HES COMING I PROMISE

-STFU I SWEAR SHUT UP WOLFWOOD PLS JUST ENJOY YOUR STUPID CIGARRETE

-oh ok yeah here we go

-GEESUS MAN, i hope someone kick you ass later

-aw livio noooooo :c

-NAH NO PLS NO BROTHER FIGHT NO NO

-damn

chap 4:

-no that fucking title while theyre bleeding holy crap no stop it nightow stop it

-leave my man alone plsssssssssssssssss

-OH I FUCKING FELT THAT. WOLFWOOD REACHING FOR ANOTHER MAGAZINE AND LIVIO SHOOTING AT THE SAME MOMENT. I FELT THAT

-oh thats...thats kinda hot actually (i say while wolfwood fights for his little life)

-i love nightow taking his fucking time. yes sir i will enjoy a page of the vial dropping from his mouth without any dialogue, thank you sir

-PAIN :D

-SHUT UP OLD MAN

-"please survive"................................im gonna need a million years

chap 5:

-VASH BABY WHERE ARE YOU I NEED YOU

-demon....while hes killing his bro.....i have a limit thats all im saying

-ITS CALLED LOVE BITCH

-HE GIVES A FUCK ABOUT THE HONOR HE JUST WANTED TO PROTECT HIS HOME WTF

-STOP TALKING AND KILL HIM MAN CMONNNN

-oh....he looks so pretty tho. likes he came back to life and is surrounded by his servants....damn that goes hard...

-oh yeah, that arm that had no explanation whatsoever. its ok tho, nightow gets a pass

-ah fuck.....hes here...

-yeap, you could say thats a demon ig

chap 6:

-AH YES SAD FLASHBACK IN MENTAL PALACE MAKES ME GO BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. ONE OF THE BEST THINGS EVER IM TELLING YA :D

-im sorry

-im jumping through the window idc anymore. poor livio man

-"fortitude".........yeah.....

-yeap that is scary as hell RUN WOLFWOOD GET TF OUTTA THERE

-DONT SMILE LIKE THAT YOU FREAK

-NONONONONONON SHUT UP WOLFWOOD SHUT UP

-STOPPPPPPPPPPPP

-STOPL PLEASEEEEEEEEEEE

-DIOS IM NOT STRONG ENOUGH

-orange if you animate this i will punch you but also kiss you in the lips

-i wonder what he means with that bell thats supposed to be tolling. hmmm. maybe its like a "hey come back to reality" kind of alarm thats not sounding

nightow you amazing bastard

[postcreditscene]

Summer Post-Depression

It’s remarkably lonely coming out of such a crushing depression. Especially on the brink of change like this. Leaving the blanket of suicidal thoughts and the pillows of my prolonged girlhood is utterly terrifying. I, a girl who honestly did not plan to make it past the notable yet small age of thirteen, now have to pick universities, do my a-levels, wait patiently for exam results to know if my school will let me keep studying with them. My whole life is a painful and dreadful limbo now.

Summer holidays are always an end of an era in my life as my fall forsaken birthday comes closer yet again. This summer is decidedly my last as a girl and my first as a woman. Why? Because I finally don’t want to kill myself so badly that I need to make something of myself instead of just making sure the self survived. It clearly did as this is not a post mortem (although I may do one on my birthday, for the girl that will surely wither away for my more adult self). The past six months have been full of this, cramming the half of my classes I missed between gym sessions and fucking valorant matches has kept my mind occupied. Until now. Now I am sitting in the polish countryside, typing this on a sun warmed chair swing enjoying the last hours of silence before my aunt, her ape-ish husband and their rotund son come back. Nothing against my art of course, and every day I wonder what she did so wrong to be cursed with sons instead of daughters.

Either way, the peace will be over within the hour as my mother and her new boyfriend come back from their run. I’ve never met a man more loudly and confidently stupid. He is obtrusive. That is the only way I can describe him without being downright nasty and I’m really trying to stop doing that. Sadly after this holiday ad the following one in Paris with my father and his empty headed racist bimbo small-minded small-chested rotten in the soul wife I will be forced to live with my mother and her boyfriend in some sad new build house with his untrained poorly vaccinated dog and the fucking outdoor cat that I will be undoubtedly violently allergic to. Maybe I am a bit of a mean person. For context, my father’s wife forced me out of my own house (after having plunged me into living with her for a year, the attempts made during that year and the memories from that time are long forgotten) and my mother acts like a complete fucking retard as soon as her boyfriend is involved (for example, forgetting I exist, fucking off for two weeks at a time after my beloved childhood dog passed away, and most insultingly letting him call me ‘scary’). I had planned for this blog to be profound and not just a rant.

Circling back to the end of my girlhood and my subsequent rebirth as a woman (or just a teenage girl, god knows what kind of metamorphosis I will commit to). To simplify the goals of this transformation for myself, I’ve made a simply list.

• Get a boyfriend

• Go to school for at least 4/5 days of the week (I only did one full week of school last year about halfway through the spring)

• Fuck previously stated boyfriend (I might be scared of sex but I’ll totally get over that if he’s hot enough)

• Maybe get a girlfriend instead because dick is gross

• Go to the gym three times a week at least

• Plot some kind of cosmic level revenge on my sister who went fucking crazy and refused to do my hair before my school dance.

A very achievable list of goals for the summer and the following year of my life.

Back to the summer. I’m attending a wedding where there is apparently a very rich young man a year or two older than me that’s just finished studying at a boarding school in Switzerland who I’m supposed to be meeting. And he’s supposed to be handsome on top of that. What a catch (I’ll update you to weather he’s actually handsome or not). Perhaps a decent candidate to lose my ‘hold hands romantically’ virginity to. It is very hard being old and an ex-ugly still kind of strange neurodivergent woman. And now I sound like a social justice warrior.

Anyways, unbothered silence is over as is my writing session this fine morning. So I hope this serves as a half- decent introduction to my summer and my blog. Sorry that this is all over the place, I’m not good with introductions.

[reddeliciousauce]

3, 6, 7, 11, 18, 28, 29, 33

3. Did they have any irrational fears? Ones not based in reality?

i mean shit probably but what kinda kid didnt have weird fears

6. Were they scared of strangers? Kids they didn’t know?

nope and its a downright shame for lil dirk cause he had to basically hold my hand like natures child leash to keep me from putting my nose in whoevers business

7. Daredevil or overly cautious? Were they somewhere inbetween?

i strike a nice balance between the two which also gave my brother a fuckin heart attack when id run in front of people getting their skate on

11. Did they enjoy sleepovers? Or did they want to go home the moment it got late?

i loved sleepovers couldnt get enough of em i liked using other peoples shit it was great

18. Did they ever lie about strange things as a kid? Like rare conditions or something to make them stand out?

kept getting questions about my albinism so id say i was the michelin man and kool aid guys radical offspring

28. Did they have any health issues as a kid? Are they doing any better now?

hell if i know i didnt go to a doctors unless i broke something

29. Were they excited for adulthood? Or were they anxious for it? Did they like adults?

i was cruisin living moment to moment you know i also knew to respect my fuckin elders especially the ultimate elder my grandpap r.i.p.

33. Were they easily scared? Like from horror movies/scary toys/halloween?

maybe as a snot nosed toddler but i manned up in a big way down the road nothing fazed me