#period of life like a journal entry idk

[verdemoun]

idk marstons and morgan angst

i fully believe that when john stops and goes 'what was her name? mary?' when arthur tells him not to live two lives in the sheep and the goats - he was about to bring up eliza and isaac and had to stop himself because as angry as he was he knew it would kill his brother

jack's drawing is him, abigail and arthur all happy with their sheep ranch - no john in sight. he originally drew it for abigail, who suggested he give it to arthur to avoid john seeing it. of course, john did in 1907 when he was ready to look through arthur's satchel, and immediately knew it wasn't him. felt he deserved it - and wondered if they would have all been happier if he and arthur switched places that night

at least once, but probably a lot more than once, in 1907, abigail didn't wish but wondered what her life would have been like if arthur had been the one to get off the mountain instead of john, and if arthur had recovered. she never loved arthur like she did john, and never would, but deep down she wondered just how happy they could have been together.

arthur would have treated her right and respected her, married her, encouraged jack's reading and writing and wouldn't have gone after fucking micah. he might've hated her cooking enough to offer to cook for them, and she could've escaped the wretched task. evenings could've been the three of them, comfortably sitting around a fireplace, listening to jack read aloud

especially when it was just her and jack bouncing around after proghorn ranch, jack would often catch her looking out the window and sighing sadly as if she could see the peaceful little house with horses and sheep, and jack smiling and happy learning from his devoted proxy father. he also learned this was a great time to ask about stories about the old days, the gang, and learned most of what he knew about uncle arthur during that time period.

after 1911, when abigail got sick, jack would read to her constantly. one picked up his father's journal one day, expecting to find stories from when they were young and in that pathetically sappy young love phase before he was born.

it wasn't until he reached 'abigail and marston keep arguing' that he realised it wasn't just his father's journal. realizing at the same time, abigail let out a shuddered gasp and asked him to keep reading. she had always held onto the past so much more affectionately than john had, and hearing arthur's inner thoughts was as comforting as him being in the room.

just for a second imagine abigail marston laying sick and dying, with tears of joy in her eyes as jack shows her drawings arthur did all the way back in 1899 of her 'in her prime', and a young jack, quick sketches almost like photographs

jack's voice cracking as he reads arthur's last entry, that desperate, deliberately heavy pencil writing 'john, protect abigail and jack', knowing he would, and did, only to turn the page to handwriting he recognizes again.

not getting the chance to finish reading it together, but one of the last things abigail gets to see before her mind is completely gone is john's excited, wonky, capital letters I'M GETTING MARRIED and knowing she'll get to see him again

[onlyyours2love]

A little less than a week before the full release of the Double Exposure and this is what I have to say about Pricefield as a Pricefielder:

The journal entry between Max and Chloe joking about the threesome with the dude didn’t actually seem like a mischaracterization (to me at least, I admit that can be argued though) mostly because we all know that Chloe has a crass and edgy sense of humor and I really don’t think Chloe was being fr about the three having sex….i saw online a lot of people were pressed about that but idk i just saw typical Chloe joking around

The breakup sucked, I feel like I (as well as most Pricefielders) would’ve understood and been more okay with Pricefield being on a break during the events of the game. It would’ve been a better writing choice and it would’ve made sense at the point both of them are in their lives. If anybody understands Pricefield is that yes there was a lot of emotional baggage and trauma from the events of save bae but Pricefield doesn’t abandon each other. Period.

I do genuinely think that Chloe will still show up even if it’s just a crumb. I think she could show up in a text message in the very very very final cutscene of the game that will imply both are going to be in contact again, it could be a cutscene where the doorbell rings at Max’s house and she opens the door and she’s like “Chloe?!?!” And Chloe is offscreen (kinda like that last scene in monsters Inc. lol)

The reason I think she HAS to make a cameo if you kept her alive is because she keeps showing up, in reminiscing dialogue, max mentions her when she graffitis Colmonero’s cardboard cutout, in social media. Based on trailer footage it seems like we still have to see Max explaining to Moses and Safi about the events of Arcadia bay and Chloe will obviously have to be mentioned (and the blue butterfly cameo scene still wasn’t shown in chapters 1&2)

Speaking of, has ANYBODY noticed that even though people text you in both timelines….chloe’s messages remained pinned either at the top or the 2nd slot from your last text message? I played chapters 1&2 and I noticed that small detail. Idk if it’s the same with bay ending timeline with Joyce, but I did find it odd.

Deck Nine created on Before The Storm. This is the same team that worked on the LiS remastered version. I hate them for what they have done with Pricefield but they really can’t be stupid enough to work on those projects and not understand the legacy that they are tainting by destroying pricefield. Perhaps I’m being an optimist, but I think that the Pricefield breakup reveal is part of a bigger plot twist. Life is Strange as a series in whole, regardless of what studio has worked on the games, always does a crazy job at plot twists because they are narrative games. They are stories. Deck nine also has other narrative games outside of LiS. I’m trying to hold out hope that this game ends better than how it started both plot wise and Pricefield wise

[hiisheart]

( k so i know depression can have depersonalization & derealization symptoms but honestly these have been bothering me the most these past few days, and apparently there's a whole ass disorder that exists. i don't doubt depression is in full remission atm but i have never experienced DDD symptoms to this extent and it's honestly fucking terrifying and idk what to do about them rn. i wrote a whole ass narrative journal entry on these experiences last night and idk i feel like i should share it with my therapist tn & also my psychiatrist tomorrow. the symptomatic matches with what is in the dsm is crystal fucking clear imo. but idk if there's a certain time period allotted for those experiences as part of the dx criteria, doesn't look like it but it also won't surprise me if there somehow is. idk i've been rambling for far too long and ik i've been treating this space as kind of like a journaling space for my depression lately but honestly i feel like y'all understand and appreciate me more than a lot of ppl in my life so i thank y'all for being here with me and being patient. )

[gnawer-of-table-legs]

THE SEEKER (SOUL VOID) HEADCANONS, THEORIES, AND ANALYSIS

SPOILERS!!!! OI!!!

tw: brief self harm mention, car crashes, death, blood mention, mental health struggles (is that too vague?). Let me know if anything needs to be added.

Demi and pan

The guy ever ❤️

has a fear of failure. It’s pretty intense, but I’m not sure if it’s to the level of Atychiphobia since Atychiphobia will usually result in the individual avoiding situations in which they could fail, and he definitely doesn’t. But. It sure does come close.

if he ever played DND he’d play a neutral good wizard. It’s the research aspect for him.

probably died in the 1960s. Fedoras had begun to fall out of fashion in the 70s, so it would give him a good time period to be wearing those (the fashion died when he did 😔)

ALSO: Car safety regulations began to be a concern in the 1970s. There, manufacturers started offering airbags and anti-lock brakes, better seatbelts, etc.

quote from a source I ain’t citing: “President Johnson signed the National Traffic and Motor Vehicle Safety Act of 1966 into law on September 9, 1966”

I’d like to imagine he died right before those car safety regulations. For the Irony.

He canonically uses phrases like “post-haste” so I’m putting him in the humanities field. Maybe history major with a minor in philosophy. (Did they have majors and minors back then? Probably not in the same way we do now)

Because he died trying to get someone out of a car crash, I assume that he had been one of the people in the car when it crashed— otherwise, how would he have lost his life by just approaching the car and trying to pull people out? Sure, Fire/car exploding is possible. But since he’s shown to have glass shards stuck in the same places where his scars are, I assume that he died from the broken glass of the car -> over exerted himself trying to save others and bled out.

The Seeker is completely unaware of how many void residents stan him (we all saw the Husk’s mural of him)

(is it a mural if its on the floor?)

Probably has imposter syndrome.

bitchass motherfucker would cry at sad movie scenes (unless someone else is also crying)

some theories:

It’s been confirmed that a soul’s journey through the SV depends on the soul itself. There was a guy in the Respite Biome that described a starkly different experience than the player’s, and then came to conclusion that the journey was different for everyone. However, I still think souls can cross paths if they share something in common with other souls. So if each biome represents an aspect of the individual’s trauma, then the biomes in which the Seeker has been should give insights on his character, right? Because he talked to the Respite Entity and inspired them to make a change before leaving— and yet the Leech does not seem to have met him (with how lucid she is about her situation, she would definitely have been able to collaborate with the Seeker in some way, and yet he isn’t mentioned). Even though the Leech Biome (guilt, I think— guilt and being toxic/parasitic in relationships) is very close to the Respite in the player’s journey, the Seeker does not come across it because it is not a trauma he shares. His books do not appear there.

He and his books appear in the grasping forest (wanting something always out of reach, implied to be happiness, loss of self*), his books are in the enamel core and the veiny area (idk what these represent), the Sketchyard (feeling of not being good enough despite efforts to improve/bring joy to others), and the respite. *he is shown to be afraid of losing his sense of self, both in his journal entries and when he’s dying on the ground.

The glass shards area (before the Leeches and after the Respite) probably has to do with his death. Idk why the player can access it, unless they also have trauma relating to car crashes/etc— or maybe it’s more generic. Maybe that biome stands for broken glass or sharp things in general (sharp things and allusions to self harm appear throughout the player’s journey, along with a glass bottle that is so pivotal to their character that it is used as one of the three keys to access the Grim).

I think a big theme for his character is how talking with people who share your trauma/experiences or can relate to them can be helpful to both know you aren’t alone, and to share stories/coping methods. The Seeker is able to traverse many biomes (although not all) because he shares their trauma somewhat. This is further cemented by his ability to sense others emotions by touching them.

Not all souls who share experiences form healthy relationships, of course. Some can become unhealthy/manipulative/dependent (ahem ahem, Grim and Leech). The individual needs to take steps to maintain healthy relationships (as is with any relationship, regardless of who is involved).

@captain-will

Now that you’ve finished the game I have released the hcs

[yellowmelodyheart]

You know what, why not write up a little journal entry? As much as I’m always posting to IG stories, I still have to stop myself sometime because I can probably get a little too annoying.

Just thoughts ahead.

Transitioning from vacation brain back to work brain has been so hard. AND it’s been during my luteal phase so I’m extra cranky. I swear, I feel like I JUST had my period…the months go by so fast 😭.

I’m really sick of always waking up feeling angry and lethargic and unmotivated. People waking up feeling motivated and ready for their day honest to god feels like a myth to me.

I think I need a life manager. Having to manage every action and decision is too much 😭 I can’t get myself out of bed, I can’t get myself to shower, I can barely get myself to eat or do work…and I need to make money now 🫠

I’m putting off therapy (and other things) because of money but maybe I need to take some Ls now to get some wins later…like how today I slept in (I slept at 8pm and woke up at 4am so I got 8 hours, but then at 4am I felt no pressure to do anything so I went back to sleep…until 3pm…) I basically just gave up the day, gave up getting any work done, and woke up only to let Jellybean out, eat, and leave for aerial. But I decided to just call a Lyft instead of rush myself for an hour commute, and give myself time to actually figure out what to teach. It cost me $30 though 😢 but I figured I’ll just eat the cost for a little less stress.

Sleeping in also kind of gave me some restrictions, which in a way was nice. I love freedom but I don’t think I can have too much of it. Since I slept in, I had to forgo getting any work done during the day, or even showering, it forced me to only do what was necessary in that time frame, which was eat, change, take jellybean out, and leave. When I have more time I get paralyzed thinking I have to finish all my work, shower, clean, go to the post office, and etc etc. There are too many options to choose from 🫥

There’s so much I need to unpack. All this adhd talk, with the decision paralysis, inability to prioritize, struggle with transitions, overwhelming emotions…idk how to turn this all around by myself.

[water1oo]

.

i found this journal from sixth grade and it gave me a glimpse into that mind as i don't have many things dating that far back.

i was really excited about percy jackson, it always makes me smile to read that. it's fascinating seeing what memories 11-12 year old me thought were significant enough to jot down. i talked about going to the park with my dad and what a good day it was, about the time my mom pranked me so bad i collapsed, about the first time i got my period, about sucking at jump rope during PE, about goofing around with my friends, about rachel's birthday.

sixth grade was what i would really call my last year of childhood and now that i have worked with middle school, i see how that matches up with how i view sixth graders today -- they are still children, that shift to adolescence mostly starts in 7th grade.

and reading these short passages with the maturity i now have at 28 feels so weird.....yeah i was just like those kids. the human experience is so universal.

it's so hard to see that as you grow up because you know....you kind of feel the same throughout the years, you are not that aware of how dramatically you have matured throughout the years. readings these entries from middle school, high school, college, and now........i really am not the same at all lol. put me in front of 12 year old me and she would have seen for the 28 year old i am, even though i still feel like a child inside.

i am at a point in my life where i am struggling a lot with the passage of time and am becoming fully aware of how my youth is truly not going to be forever. i am at that age where the aging process is starting to become evident. it feels weird. starting to realize for the first time that if all goes well, i will grow older and older and will eventually die. and seeing these journals really show me i am not just a teenager, i truly am so much more different and i am growing up with my body even if it doesn't feel like it.

idk what i am yapping on about really, but i am glad i wrote so much throughout the years. it's true, there is no way of ever going back to the past but i am so grateful i immortalized so much through all the journalling i used to do. i love that i wrote with the intent of rereading it one day so they are rich in detail and in a way it allows me to travel back in time. back to when i was a young girl who's biggest worry was how to get a copy of battle of the labrynth, back to when i was celebrating my now deceased best friend's birthday, back to when it was so much simpler and happier. i am grateful.

[unsadgalriri]

May 20, 2024

It's been a long time since I've journaled. I was so busy living. Not in that gay way. I was just busy with school and job hunting and then starting a new job. A part of me wishes I journaled a little more cuz a lot has changed since I last wrote a real, sincere entry. For starters, I am almost in my second week at The Beverly Hills Hotel as a Guest Researcher. I fucking did it. I left In-N-Out. Honestly, I cried when I left because of what I went through during my time there. I mean in Westwood. In-N-Out has a special place in my heart for a variety of reasons. For one, it kept me fed. For two, it was a source of healing when I lost my dad. I made so many friends there. People helped me find my confidence again. I felt so appreciated and loved and everyone told me how handsome I was every day. Thank you God for placing me in the right place at the right time. I sincerely found peace with the fact that I was going to be at In-N-Out for a while. I was thankful for my job, and thankful for my promotion. I was thankful that Vega gave me a burger coin. Not only did I achieve my goal of becoming a Level 6 before leaving the company, but I was actually becoming a decent cook. I would've been a fucking BOSS. Anyways, when I made peace with my job and began to appreciate it instead of loathe it, everything started to become better. Life was better. I was more at peace. I had more time to focus on myself and on school. And now I know what it is like to appreciate things. Life is so expensive. There was a time when I couldn't even afford a drink from the gas station. Now I take a little time to be thankful for EVERYTHING. Gratitude gives everything so much meaning. I think that's what I like most about life; appreciating what you have and not focusing on what you don't. I can't lie, getting this new job has made me want to work so hard. I want to promote as fast as I can. I just can't forget about my family. And baby Ariel is getting so big now. I just don't want to miss out. I'm so thankful for everything. For my education. My brain. My apartment. My job. My camraderie. My new money. My new life. I just can't be angry anymore. I choose not to be angry anymore. I just need to let go what my dad did to me, understand he just did his best, and move past the storm of the last two years. These last two years changed me forever. The loneliness I felt. Isolation. Immobility. Worthlessness. Anger. Misdirection. Rejection. It was the worst time period of my life ever. But I grew. I learned. I know my worth now. I know I'm a good person. I know I'm a kind person. For a moment, I felt like I lost myself and, well, actually I did lose myself. I just didn't have any fucks in me to give at one point. I had to confront so much and trust those around me to know I wasn't a bad person. I'm not a bad person. I not a perfect person. But I'm so much better than the person I thought I was. I have so much to give. So much tenderness. I really am like a golden retriever idk. I really want someone to be obsessed with me and vice versa, but I can wait. For now, I am FUCKING. I am fucking so many hot guys. I need to close shop and start working on my body next. Ugh, I feel so FERTILE. Bitch I haven't felt this good in a long time. I wanna go OUT. I'm excited for life again. I trust that God will keep me afloat even when I fuck up. If I fuck up. I probably will fuck up lol. Anyways, I'm doing good!

[wildflower-rain]

long post with just my musings about nothing. more a journal entry than anything else. all lighthearted stuff.

dont know if im in a mood but im considering stepping away from this blog and the internet in general for a bit.

been on here to much lately or something plus some other stuff. idk i may disappear briefly.

hesitant to do so because i think my unintentional attempt to keep stuff in this blog's queue is why my brain hasn't just rejected it. like thats not a big consideration point but it is there.

tbf there aren't many points here at all. i just kind of started thinking about this like two hours ago so yk, i may wake up and forget i said anything.

been less engaged in some ways anyway. and more in others. been on here for long periods but i normally try add a bit of commentary in the tags if only for my own memory and amusement. but i haven't seen much that ive really wanted reblog to begin with and ive had nothing to say about anything. also as i think i said in the last two posts here now i just dont have anything to say at the moment. nothing understandable and shareable at least. got real life stuff happening too. had a lot of work to do. and a lot of stress. not actually that much stress probably , not compared to normal because like every situation is a high stress situation to me. just how i work. but i may well be forgetting how stressed i've been. i'm not sure.

idk. this blog does help me sort out my brain some. which is a point to the the other side. this post is basically a journal entry. and thats really how i use this blog most of the time. rambling about random stuff. its more consistent than any journal i've kept or have tried to keep. wondering if it would be unreasonable to make a private sideblog to actually just use as a journal because apparently tumblr gets the thoughts out of me.

i should make a journal tag. maybe. i don't know. for some reason i have more faith in tumblr not losing all my stuff than my other digital note taking and journal stuff. and generally i think better in typing. i do have a physical journal. i just don't think as freely in it, my hand gets cramped or i cant write fast enough for my thoughts. so i like digital stuff. and apparently my brain sees tumblr as more likely to not lose my stuff and die than anywhere else. at least out of places that i like the format of. don't like the idea of dumping this all in a word doc for some reason. it would make more sense. i could stick things on a usb but no, instead here i am with my billion word tumblr post that anyone can see. maybe ill start copying things into word docs after the fact idk.

i dont know why im so afraid that all my shit will be deleted. i really havent lost that much digital stuff over the years, nothing important to me i dont think. not accounts, not saved info, not my own pieces of stuff.. maybe one or two things i dont remember. i dont know why i just dont trust stuff to not get lost becuase of some screw up. idk. its 3:30am i'm going to sleep now. i had more work to do but im tired and i need to do more stuff tomorrow so i might as well get some sleep.

goodnight tumblr. or goodmorning or whatever time it is when this gets released, imma queue it.

[scoups4lyfe]

Journal Entries. (2)

These are all mood journal entries (so super short / concise) of mine; where I chart my daily moods over a period of time.

These chronicle the time right before I scheduled an appointment with a psychiatrist (March) and when I started medication (antidepressants) for my depression / fatigue.

NOTE: These don't contain any long thoughts, literally just mood observations. But I think it does a pretty good job at showing just how inconsistent and sudden mood episodes / switching can be, and why they're so debilitating for trying to live a normal everyday life. I added some gifs / pictures for rando visuals LOL. Truly complete the reading experience 🤪.

Part: [1], [2], [3], [4] Bipolar PPT Essay: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5], [6]

...

March 27th, 2021

Slept: 4am. Woke: 4pm

Mood: 2/10 Energy: Neutral (Maybe a 2/10)

I just feel empty. Like I need to go hibernate/go back to sleep. I’m not hungry. I’m not particularly motivated, and I kind of wish my sister would sit down and watch Hannibal with me and my mom, so it bums me out that she continues to put that off/ignore it.

I’m tired, man. It’s 8:21 pm, and I’m already thinking about going back to bed. When my family hangs out, I can be mindless and just let their good mood and entertainment take over. Other than that, I don’t feel particularly interested in doing anything, though I know I should. I have things to do. I don’t even feel bad about not doing anything. Just empty. Just ready to sleep.

March 28/29th, 2021:

:(

NOTE: Visual reference of what I looked like during this time

March 30th, 2021:

Bed: 6:30 pm. Woke: 4:30 am

Mood: -1/10

My mood can be directly related to how many gluten free brownies I’ve eaten today. (Thee ONLY thing I’ve eaten too might I add.) (it’s 5pm)

…

[Started taking meds]

Tuesday July 6th 2021 (6:03 pm) (12th)

NOTE: The number next to the date is the number of days since I started taking medication

took meds (YES)

I was kinda so depressed from the doctor’s visit and loss of money that even with the meds, it couldn’t stop me from sleeping. LOL.

Thursday July 8th 2021 (12:10 pm) (14th)

took meds: yes

I had enough energy to watch [my niece]

I had enough energy to have a mental breakdown.

Tuesday July 13th 2021 (19th)

took meds: yes (4:44 pm)

I feel so tired…fatigued….

Thursday, July 15th 2021 (21st)

took meds: yes (2:47)

Slept four hours

Overall energy: 3/10

Mood:4.5:10

Napped for three hours, had dinner + caffeinated tea and I feel shaky-awake.

Bruh I did not sleep (for the 16th) at all 💀💀💀.

Friday, July 16th, 2021 (22nd)

took meds: yes (12:06pm)

Haha going to bed right after I took my meds 😛🤷

Friday July 23rd, 2021 (31st)

took meds: yes (11:12 am)

This week idk. It’s been weird? Like tired and then also hyper fixated on nonsense =DD.

Why (2:40 pm) am I so tired? Don’t want to do anything.

(Currently Saturday morning, 6;22 am and I can’t sleep. I’m NOT tired. But I want to sleep.)

This is the WORST.

Saturday July 24th, 2021 (32nd)

took meds: 7:21 pm

I feel wired and tired and just like I can’t do anything even tho I have the energy to

Sunday July 25th, 2021 (33rd)

took meds: yes (11:26 am)

I know I woke up at 8pm today, but man I really don’t want to do SHIT. (And after drinking that nasty ass fiber supplement, I’m feeling tired =o. When will this insanity end?)

Tuesday July 27th 2021 (35th)

took meds: yes (10:04 am)

Mood (10:07 am): 7/10

Energy (10:07 am): 6.7/10

Wednesday July 28th 2021 (36th)

took meds: yes (4:23pm)

Literally went to sleep at 1am and woke up at 4:15 pm. Wtf? (I slept 16hrs LOL)

Mood (6:03 pm): 6.5/10

Energy (6:03 pm): 7.2/10

Today was a good day, I got more work done than yesterday :)).

(3:19, Thursday am): laid down and tried to sleep but now I feel more awake than ever.

Thursday July 29th 2021 (37th)

took meds: yes (4:29 pm)

Went to bed last night at 8am, woke up at 4:33 pm. (I hate not being able to fall asleep. Is it because I slept for 16 hrs the previous night? #sucks.)

Mood (7:44 pm): 7.5/10

Energy: (7:44 pm): 6.4/10

Friday July 30th 2021 (38th)

took meds: yes (8:15 pm)

I almost forgot to take them today ahhhhhh

Mood: 6/10

Energy: 6.7/10

Saturday July 31st 2021 (39th)

I have plenty of energy (I haven’t taken my meds yet) and yet I feel like I’m going insane. I. Can’t do anything right. Why why why why why must I continue to be a failure? I had something good going for me wtf is wrong with me? I don’t want to wake up anymore

Took meds: yes (11:44 am)

(Slept till 9pm, it’s 8:22 am Sunday and I’m still awake. But on the plus side I’m not careening dangerously into another mental breakdown.,,yet)

Sunday August 1st 2021 (40th)

took meds: yes (12:17 pm)

I haven’t slept yet today

General mood: hmmm 5/10 (12:18pm)

I do feel a little tired but that’s probably because I’ve been up since 9pm.

Generally tho I’m feeling pretty okay. (Guess we’ll see how the rest of today goes lol.)

[Prev] [Next]

[bilobatum]

hate last.fm so so much

[peachyyyy]

.

[hiccanna-tidbits]

HICCANNA MONTH WEEK 1, DAY 6 - “I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO” “WE’LL FIGURE IT OUT” DRACULA DAILY AU

*Collapses in an exhausted heap and plops this on your dash* IT’S DONE IT’S FINALLY DONEEEEE

So anyways I was talking with @ohlooksheswriting about Dracula Daily and how Jonathan Harker has some of the biggest Anna Energy I have ever seen (i.e.  the appreciation of good food, the general desire to give people the benefit of the doubt perhaps a little more than is wise, politeness even in the most dire of situations, the aggressive focus on the positive in the face of imminent doom,   the general vibe of “ah no!!! I can't let my people down!!! Gotta push through even when things get dicey!!!”, whether it be with sketchy real estate deals or your sister accidentally freezing the kingdom etc etc), and there’s already some pretty suspiciously romantic undertones between Jon and Drac, so I was like “OMG Dracula Daily AU for Hiccanna Month??? DRACULA DAILY AU FOR HICCANNA MONTH???” And here we are XD

Fwiw I can totally see Hiccup being a loving househusband who spends his time nerding out over books on places he’s interested in, so it works, fight me. Also, I think Hiccup deserves to do the spooky little castle lizard crawl. As A Treat! And lawyer!Anna??? Immaculate. She has Elle Woods vibes and I intend to see her put them to full use. Anyways these two invented girlboss/malewife in this fic and I love that for them.

Not me legit doing an internet deep dive researching Transylvanian food for this, just so I could do justice to Anna’s foodie/generally-food-preoccupied tendencies XD That’s basically the only aspect of this I have any confidence is like...sort of accurate to the source material. Apologies in advance for any general anachronisms and/or inaccuracies in the way property attorneys and property law are portrayed here (property law practice was something admittedly a bit heavy to research for a fanfiction XD). I got most of my lawyer info from the Dracula emails themselves, and I tried not to use any anachronisms that don’t feel like they’d show up in Frozen or HTTYD themselves, so hopefully it reads all right. It prolly doesn’t feel as much like an old-timey period piece as I was hoping for, but hopefully I ensnared at least a little bit of the classic spooky gothic vibes. Idk.

I decided to try bolding instead of italicizing for emphasis to give the whole thing a more, like...“handwritten journal” feel? No idea if it worked, but I tried! XD (Also, in case you’re wondering, Anna starts off her journal entries with “Hi friend” because she considers her journal her friend!!!)

Is this more wholesome than the OG Dracula? Oh yeah, absolutely! Did I keep the impeccable comedy of the original book while swapping out the more horrific parts for a fluffest and angstfest of a romance that would probably make Bram Stoker turn in his grave? Definitely! Listen, I was too jam-packed with internalized misogyny to have a Twilight phase in 2008, so I gotta get that angsty vampire romance nonsense out of my system now before it consumes me. So something something AU of “what if the real-estate-buying vampire...wasn’t evil??? What if he was a sadboi instead???” Sometimes I get to have a few supernatural monster sadbois who get girlfriends anyways. As A Treat. Also yes, Anna caring more about workplace romances being unprofessional than dating a dude who sucks blood is the hill I will die on because a) it’s absolutely hysterical to me and b) it feels oddly in-character??? Girlie will give you the benefit of the doubt to ridiculous extents, but not if it gets in the way of important duties and responsibilities! She also has fried post-BAR brain so like. That doesn’t HELP--

So, without further ado, join me for this fun, wacky jaunt into the life of newly-certified lawyer Anna, going on a business trip to Transylvania and hoping to collect some local recipes for her two recently-engaged best friends! She hardly expects to be so taken with her first client’s eccentricities, nor did she ever dream that a rather inconvenient and unprofessional crush on him would blossom, but life is full of surprises! Featuring Merida and the Thorston twins as Count Haddock’s slightly-unhinged freeloading eternal roommates, and a little Jackunzel on the side--as a treat!!!

Not me thinking about how if I had the drive to make this a longer thing the endgame pairing would probably be Hijannunzel to pay homage to the shameless polyamory of the source material akbsahydgewoyvd

Fic under the cut! As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request!

***

May 15

Hi friend,

Anna Runeardsen here! Or should I say Certified Property Attorney Anna Runeardsen here!!! My god, I still can’t believe I passed the BAR. I passed the BAR!!! I PASSED THE BAR!!!

Anyways, you already know that. Duh. I’ve said it like 5 times already. I’m just still in shock. Like I go to law school like “let’s see what happens! Maybe I’ll flunk out!” but then I didn’t? And here I am! Those all-nighters took years off my life I’m never getting back, though. My brain still kind of feels like mamaliga.

Wow. I have a lot of news. I don’t really know where to start, because a ton of stuff has happened since I last wrote. Maybe I’ll start with the little things?

So first off, my god, the other night I had the BEST roast chicken!!! Literally so good!!! I don’t know what it is about the cooking here—maybe turning it over a blue fire gives it a slightly different flavor? I mean yeah, I don’t know for sure Count Haddock’s been cooking with those blue inferno circle things, but maybe that’s what gives it the kinda extra-savory, smoky flavor? Anyways, he gave me the recipe! Turns out he just used some salt and pepper and cloves and a bit of saffron and then drenched it in this olive oil mix. I’ll have to see if it tastes any different when I try making it back home in Oslo. I’ll add the recipe to the collection I’m giving to Jack and Punzie.

Can I just say, by the way, how GREAT that is going??? I’ve only been here a few days, and I’ve already got 5 recipes!! I’ve got mamaliga, paprika chicken, mititei, szekelyalmas, and the Count Haddock Roast Chicken Special! At this rate, I’ll have a whole bookful of them by the time I go back to Norway. Actually, I think I am gonna bind what I have into a nice little book, and give it to Jack and Punz as a wedding gift. It’ll be so exciting to make all this new food!!!

I still can’t believe Jack and Punz are finally getting married, honestly. Took him long enough to propose! I seriously thought I was going to have to fail and retake the BAR a few more times, and THEN maybe they’d finally be engaged. Right before the big boss man sent me out on this special mission, Punzel told me Jack stumbled up to her by the fountain in her estate garden and just started rambling incoherently. He pulled out the ring, and his hands were shaking so badly that he dropped it in the fountain??? So Rapunzel sees and she notices Jack was doing really bad at the whole talking thing just then, so she diffuses the tension by saying “well, if we’re wishing on things we’re throwing in the fountain, I wish you’d marry me!” And then she picks up the ring and proposes to HIM with it!!! Let me tell you, it was a whole thing. I really have to work on that maid of honor speech when I get the chance. They’re my two best friends in the world, and I want to do them justice!!!

But back on the topic of food! Did I mention Count Haddock does all his own cooking? I think he’s kind of embarrassed about it because he keeps pretending like he has a whole kitchen staff. When he gave me the roast chicken recipe, he said “here, let me go fetch it from the chef” and ran off into the hall, but…then I heard him doing this thing where he was like…stepping more and more quietly to make it seem like he was getting farther away? And then I could have sworn I heard him scribbling something? Anyways, he gets back with the recipe and there is no WAY he had time to go all the way down to the kitchen.

I don’t know what his deal is. The boss would probably say it’s a rich person thing. I don’t know why they’re so ashamed about cooking??? I mean, I’m not RICH rich or anything, but I’ve cooked loads of times and I never developed the black plague or leprosy or what have you. And look at Rapunzel—her family is drowning in money, and she still plays around in the kitchen! She loves keeping busy and hanging out with the kitchen staff, but it doesn’t make her any less of a fancy lady.

I’ve been trying to get Count Haddock to open up about his cooking. Just, you know, raving about how good it is, compliments to the chef, et cetera et cetera, in sort of a wink-wink-nudge-nudge kind of way. A lot of the men back home really brighten up when I shower them with compliments, so I was hoping Count Haddock would do the same. Sometimes the fellows back home will even try to one-up you and start gloating about their accomplishments if you compliment them enough! Not Count Haddock, though. He seemed really nervous, and just mumbled that he’d be sure to tell all that to the cook. I DO think I saw him blushing, though??? Kind of hard to tell—his skin is this pale whitish, and it turned kind of grayish for a second. I wonder why his blood looks so weird. I shouldn’t pry, though.

Count Haddock is actually SUCH a sweet host, and I wish he wouldn’t be so self-conscious about it! Like I’m not going to judge him for not having servants. I think it’s admirable how hard he works, doing everything himself! Did you know I caught him making my bed the other day? GOD, so many men I know wouldn’t be caught dead doing “woman’s work” or “commoner’s work” or whatever. He’s so humble!!! He really wants me to be comfortable, even if he has to do all the work on his own. Imagine what a thoughtful and attentive husband he would make! It’s not every day you find a man who’s willing to help with the housework without complaining every step of the way.

I MEAN—

God, I shouldn’t be talking like this. He’s my client, for god’s sake, and I have to keep our relationship professional. The entire firm is counting on me succeeding!!! But sometimes I—well, I don’t know. He keeps leaving these little mints on my pillow, and even the nicest places I’ve stayed don’t do that. I mean, they give me maybe 1 mint when I check in or something, but not every night or anything like that. He’s so consistent!!! Sometimes the mints even have a little chocolate coating, and I have to wonder if he remembers me saying I’m really into chocolate?

Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Either way, it’s a nice gesture.

Count Haddock is honestly such an interesting person. Unusual, but like…in the best kind of way. He’s so into Oslo—has a whole shelf of books about it and everything. I came in the other day and caught him reading…an Oslo train schedule??? A little boring for my taste, but it’s nice to see someone with an appreciation for our public transportation systems. They’re not half bad, if I do say so myself.

I started talking to him in the library the other day, and the time completely got away from me. I just got so swept up in the conversation, and he was so excited, telling me all the things he learned from his books about Oslo and recounting some of his old family stories. Did you know Norway is apparently his ancestral home? He said his ancestors used to tame dragons there!!! DRAGONS!!! They’ve been extinct for hundreds of years now, as far as I know, but Count Haddock’s ancestors saw them with their own eyes! It’s crazy. I think that’s part of why he wants to move to Oslo. To him, it feels much more like his homeland than Transylvania does.

I asked how he ended up in Transylvania, and he got really sad—completely crushed, honestly. I felt so bad—I told him we could drop the topic if he wanted. But he said it was fine, saying it was only natural to be curious. Apparently there was some huge war in Scandinavia all those years ago, and his ancestors and their dragons fought side by side. Then a terrible evil guy named Drago Bludvist found a way to control the dragons and possessed them all to leave Count Haddock’s ancestors and their village. One of his ancestors was the next in line to be chief, and his dragon was killed in battle. His spirit was too broken to continue fighting after that.

It was a little weird—he looked so downtrodden and miserable when he talked about his ancestor’s dragon dying. If I didn’t know better, I’d say HE was the one who lost a dragon. That would be ridiculous, though—no one lives to be THAT old. I guess he feels like…really intimately connected with his past family, and all their pains and struggles. It’s kind of inspiring, in a weird way—if not a little atypical.

Anyways, he says with their dragons gone, his ancestors were overwhelmed by Bludvist’s armies and had to flee. Considering all the literal dragons this Bludvist guy had at his disposal, no surprise, I guess, that he was able to chase them all the way across the continent. The only place they could find to hide was tucked away in these imposing-looking mountains, where they eventually built a fortress of sorts. They’ve been there ever since—well, Count Haddock has, anyways. He’s the last of his family’s descendants, and the rest of his ancestors’ village dispersed long before he was born.

Seems lonely, honestly. I asked him how he managed, with no family to keep him company, and he claims the servants are company enough. That just made my heart hurt, since I know damn well he doesn’t have a single staff member waiting on us. Seems to me like Count Haddock’s been alone for longer than he’d care to admit, and he doesn’t want to admit how painful isolation can be.

Anyhow, he told me about all kinds of fascinating things, and just—his eyes were shining so bright and he was so giddy and so excited and he was grinning so big (yeah, I know I should probably be concerned about the fact that two of his top teeth are honed into these long, sharp points that don’t look very natural…but they look so pretty when he smiles!!! How can I hate them???) and I couldn’t bear to stop him. Then, before I knew it, it was morning already! Can you believe I was up all night talking to him? It really only felt like a few minutes! Went a lot faster than all the nights I had to stay up studying, that’s for sure.

Well, anyhow, Count Haddock said he had to take care of some business when the sun started to come up, and…wow. As soon as I left, the exhaustion decided to come back from lunch—or wherever it skipped off to when the Count was with me. The distinct feeling of numbing, on-the-brink-of-death emptiness and muddy swamp brain I remember from my exam-taking days hit me like one of those trains Count Haddock is all too fond of. I decided to take a nap, and I feel a lot better now.

Can I tell you something, friend? I know I shouldn’t be saying this. It’s probably really out of line, considering Count Haddock is a man of class and high status and all, but…okay, I’ll say it. (I know you won’t tell.) I’m worried about him. Sometimes I hear him letting out plaintive wails in the middle of the night, when I guess he thinks no one is listening. Or shuffling down the halls, looking sullen and miserable and muttering about what a terrible monster he is. I’m a little surprised—I mean, the men back home ARE embarrassed when they have to do housework or kitchenwork, but I’ve never seen any of them spiral into such a vat of self-loathing over…I don’t know, making a bed and cooking a chicken, that they call themselves a MONSTER over it. Seems a little rude to the people who actually DO do those kinds of menial things for a living, but maybe I’m misinterpreting what’s going on here. Maybe he’s talking about something else. You have to be open to a number of different scenarios when you’re looking for an explanation—in my line of work, at least.

Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not as bad as he thinks. Take it from me—sometimes you’re so sure you’re the worst person in the world and totally not good for anything, and then you graduate law school and pass the BAR!!! Count Haddock is a kind man, and he shouldn’t be so hard on himself for being unconventional. He’s a fantastic homemaker, a charming conversationalist, and an excellent cook! What could he hate about himself so much?

There IS one thing that’s a tad off-putting, but it’s probably not too big a deal.

The other night, I went out to find him—mainly just to tell him that I think he’s wonderful and appreciate his hospitality. I don’t know how long he’s been alone in here, and since he seems to regard himself so poorly…well, I don’t know how long it’s been since someone said something nice to him. I intend to change that! Everyone deserves to feel good about themselves, even when they live alone in a kind of creepy castle in the middle of nowhere and cover up weird things about their household activities and close their eyes whenever I get a cut and constantly look at my crucifix necklace weird.

Anyways, so I stopped to admire the view out one of the castle windows, and then I saw a head pop out a window a little ways below. Didn’t take long to realize it must be Count Haddock—I think I’d know those wiry, well-built shoulders and that luscious mop of dark hair anywhere. He’s hard to miss.

So he puts one of those thin, elegant hands of his (look, he gestures a LOT when he talks—I’ve become very familiar with the way his hands look. I’m not being weird or anything.) on the castle wall, and sort of…pulls himself out of the window? And then before I know it, he’s stuck all his hands and feet on the stones and is clinging like a gecko. I kind of wonder if his ancestors’ dragons infused him with reptilian powers or something. So then he scuttles down the wall, and his cloak is blowing every which way, and it was VERY weird to watch. I stood there for a really long time trying to process what—pardon my French—the FUCK just happened.

That said! I don’t think being able to walk on walls is EVIL, it’s just…kind of unsettling? I want to ask him what’s up with that. But I also wonder if that’d be too nosy. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to see?

Oh well. If this is all Count Haddock is upset about, then I think it’s fine. I wish there was a way to tell him it’s not scary. I think it’s an amazing ability, personally! (So lucrative if you want to go rock-climbing, especially.) If a little…odd. Still, I want him to know it doesn’t make him a monster, no matter what anyone else says.

May 18

Hi again friend,

Wow, do I have news!!! Some of it’s sort of disquieting, but some pretty good, so…net positive?

So the good news is that I’m pretty sure Count Haddock is into me. Like…into me into me. You know what I mean. (I’m not holding my breath for a ring or anything, since I know it took months of formal courting for Jack to pop Punzie the question! But I just have a feeling??? I don’t know, I could be entirely off-base. Like a court case red herring or something.) The bad news is that Count Haddock has some…friends? Roommates? Some guys who live in his castle and definitely want to eat me. No, I will not elaborate on that.

Just kidding! I absolutely will elaborate. It’s literally my job! I PASSED THE BAR!!! I rant to people about laws and logic for a living!!!

Anyways, do you remember those locked rooms Count Haddock told me to avoid? Because of ghosts or something? I mean yeah, I guess I can understand how spirits would be a safety concern, but I figured logistically, how bad could they be? I mean, they try to punch me or kick me or bite me or what have you, and it’ll go through me, right? And according to some of the books I’ve perused in the library, the worst ghosts can do is like…knock a cup over here and there. Well, I’ve seen Jack’s cats knock mugs and glasses over plenty of times, and I lived to tell the tale! If the ghosts come for me, this property attorney is READY.

So all this to say I got pretty bored, and I, uh. I may have gone creeping around in the rooms Count Haddock told me not to. Whoops. To be fair, I normally wouldn’t have, and just sought out Count Haddock for company, but he was running errands.

I don’t know if I mentioned, but he asked me if I could stay a little longer so I could help him learn Norwegian. He speaks mostly Transylvanian, and a little Old Norse, too. Pretty impressive his ancestral language was passed down through the family for this long! He told me his parents taught him as a kid but got kind of weird and evasive when he started talking about his childhood. I don’t know why—maybe he’s self-conscious about knowing such an old language? He doesn’t need to be. Lots of people have ancient dialects passed down through their family lineages, I’d bet!

Anyways, I wrote a letter to Jack and Rapunzel and the big boss man telling them I was staying a bit longer and assuring Jack and Punz I’d be back in time for the wedding. Count Haddock said he’d run all the letters to the post office to save me the trouble—such a gentleman!—although he grabbed all the envelopes in his teeth and gecko-ran down the wall again when he thought I wasn’t looking. I mean, I don’t mind when he does this—it’s kind of morbidly fascinating to watch, actually—but I do have to wonder why he doesn’t just use the front door.

So the hours sort of dragged by, and I guess I’ve read basically all I can in the library. Everything else is in Old Norse or Transylvanian, and I mean…it’d be nice to learn a couple new languages, but I don’t think I could do it in one night, you know? And okay, against probably my better judgment, I decided to go check out this ghost business. How bad can it be? It’ll spice things up a little, at least!

Heh. Spice. So many nice spices here! Did I mention that Count Haddock made the most delicious mititei the other night? It’s these little meat rolls with sour cream inside and all this paprika, saffron, and cloves sprinkled on it, and I LOVE IT!!! Really, if Count Haddock didn’t have all that old family money, I’d suggest he go into hospitality or the cooking business or something. Punzel’s an amazing cook, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think she’s ever made me stuff this good. Am I a bad friend for saying that…? Maybe I’m just a little preoccupied, since Count Haddock is so…I don’t know…

Oh, right. I was talking about the ghost adventure. Well, it didn’t actually turn out to be a ghost adventure, but it sure was…something.

So anyways I was bored out of my head, so I wandered around and tried a bunch of the doors. This one was actually unlocked, and it led into this big fancy room with all these couches and tables and stuff—maybe a parlor or something?—and this HUGE panoramic window!!! Like I could see the whole SKY and all this silvery, moon-washed forest and hills and landscape and I am here to tell you it was EPIC. It’s times like those that I wonder if this is actually the best business trip ever, despite the lizard-walking and the weird lack of servants and that one thing Count Haddock does around mirrors where he sort of tears up and runs away.

I found this one nice velvety green loveseat-looking thing, and I wiped the dust off (only a little bit—victory!) and just laid on it for awhile and admired the view. It was kind of relaxing, taking in the nightscape and the moonlight and feeling this weird kind of peace. Ironic, since this castle seems like it SHOULD give me the major creeps, but…I guess in that moment, it really didn’t. It felt almost like…home. Is that weird?

Probably. I feel like I should be more concerned about the fact that I don’t really mind not having seen the sun for a while. How long has it been? A week? Two weeks? Ah, well—it’s not like I can’t remember what daylight looked like. Granted, my memory historically hasn’t been the best, and I probably wouldn’t have passed the BAR without lots of…whatever Ingrid Olsen was slipping me, but I can remember what’s important, okay?! Or not important, maybe, so much as like…things that don’t make me feel like I’m drowning in information. Point being, I’m not forgetting how sunlight looks anytime soon, so I can just file that away in my brain and focus on the moon right now. Or at least that was my train of thought last night.

I think I must’ve dozed off, because the next thing I knew, I heard these voices drifting over from the corner. My first thought was “ah, great, how am I gonna tell the big boss man that I’ve lost it??? That’ll be so bad for business!” But the voices seemed way too distinct for my brain to have made them up. I mean, one of them had this really thick Scottish accent! Why would my brain randomly make up a Scot living in Transylvania?! It doesn’t make any sense. And if there’s one thing they taught me in law school, it’s that MOST things have a rational explanation behind them, and the occasional completely illogical nonsense is the exception rather than the rule, etc etc.

Anyways, I kind of slowly sat up to see what was going on, but I tried to be inconspicuous about it. I didn’t know who these people were, and I mean…just because Count Haddock lives in a creepy castle and is really nice doesn’t mean EVERYONE who lives in a creepy castle is going to be really nice, you know?

Besides, I was like, are these people even supposed to be here?! Count Haddock never mentioned living with anyone besides servants, and these people didn’t look like servants. They seemed to all be fancy ladies—well, it was a little hard to tell in just grayish moonlight, but the Scottish lady had this huge, luxurious mane of red curls, and the other two had this long, shiny blonde hair. And they didn’t really hold themselves like the common folk would, I don’t think. Does Count Haddock have a bunch of aristocratic squatters?! How did they even get in here, with all the locked doors???

I probably don’t need to tell you, but I really didn’t trust these strange girls. I mean, I study property law—I KNOW you have to be careful with squatters. I decided to eavesdrop for a while, just to figure out what was going on. Here’s what I got:

Scottish Lady: I’m telling you two, he wouldn’t have let her wander in here if he didn’t want us to have a little scran!

Blonde Lady #1: Ugh, you’re so stupid. Isn’t he doing a property deal with her or something? He probably doesn’t want her sucked yet.

Scottish Lady: Wait. THAT’S the lawyer?!

Blonde Lady #2 (who actually had a pretty deep voice, so come to think of it…was probably actually a guy with long hair??? My mistake): So what? Lawyers are a dime a dozen! We drain this one, and the head lawyer guy in the firm will just send another one.

Scottish Lady: You gommy! What are we going to tell him, ‘Ah, our bad one of your employees mysteriously vanished while staying in our castle! We’ll do better with the next one, we promise!’

Blonde Guy: Sounds like Hiccup’s problem, not ours. He’ll be fine, he can reason with anyone. And didn’t you JUST say we should suck her?

Scottish Lady: Yeah, but I didn’t know that’s the property lady! I thought she was just some village lass he charmed in here.

Blonde Guy: In THAT kind of business casual?

Blonde Lady: Ugh, I don’t CARE anymore. She’s starting to look too delicious for me to care what Hiccup thinks. He can find himself another lawyer.

Scottish lady: Maybe you’re right. A quick little slurp couldn’t hurt.

Blonde Guy: Yeah, that’s the spirit! We’ll leave enough for her to sell us the land plot or whatever.

Blonde Lady: Aw, Thor, YES! Dinnertime! Uhhhh, someone else go first, though. I don’t want to get thrown out the window again.

I really had no idea why they were talking about me like I was some kind of fancy buffet, but I decided I didn’t want to stick around to find out. I tried to slink out while they were bickering, but these people were alarmingly fast. I’d barely started to get up before they suddenly surrounded the couch, the blondes on either end and the Scottish lady eyeing me up in a way I was not super crazy about.

“Oh, beautiful young lass!” she purred. She climbed on top of me before I could even move, and before I knew it, she was straddling me. I pretty much froze up because I mean…no one is EVER that forward with me that fast, let alone strange women I’ve just met. Also I mean. I’ve never given much thought to liking women like THAT. I mean…I guess I’m not opposed, and maybe what happens in weird Transylvanian castles can stay in weird Transylvanian castles, but the fact remained that I didn’t even know this lady’s name and she was already looking at me like she wanted to…I don’t know. Do things not really discussed in polite society.

“Our hair matches. How about that?” she said, in kind of this thick, breathy voice. She picked up a lock of my hair and twirled it between her fingers, pressing it up against her own curls. They were in fact pretty close in color. But, man, was that awkward. I’m not super stingy about my personal bubble or anything, but that was a little much. Like, not because she’s a lady or anything—that part I was strangely okay with. More because I only met her five minutes ago (if you can call this making someone’s acquaintance), and also the metaphors comparing me to dinner weren’t my favorite.

She leaned down and whispered in my ear “you know what else is a very pretty shade of red?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. But did I have much choice at that point?

That’s about when she lowered her face to press it against my neck (which I might have been into otherwise, but for god’s sake, we were NOT at that point yet!). Then I felt two very sharp teeth piercing into the skin just below my jawline.

I barely had time to start panicking before this huge roar shook the room, louder and fiercer than the dragons I’ve read fairy tales about. OR the ones Count Haddock described.

Then someone’s hand was around the Scottish lady’s neck, and she was being yanked into the air. I saw this flash of green eyes and white fangs, and that’s when I realized.

God, it was Count Haddock. And I had NEVER seen him that furious before. It seemed like every part of him was radiating rage. He was tensed up like a panther ready to spring, his eyes all flaming malachite and his teeth bared like a wolf’s. He took the Scottish lady and slammed her against the wall, hissing.

I honestly never imagined he was that strong, what with those skinny limbs of his. Some kind of adrenaline rush helped, I imagine.

I was stunned. I couldn’t say anything—I just laid there. Count Haddock was friendly, but I never knew he cared so…passionately about my safety. It’s flattering, thinking back on it. At the time, though…well, I’ll admit I was a little taken aback.

“Great Odin’s ghost, what is WRONG with you?!” he spat. “Attorney Runeardsen is our guest, and this is NOT how we treat guests! You dare lay so much as a FINGER on her when I’ve told you to leave her be?!”

The Scottish lady choked, and Count Haddock threw her at the blonde lady. They both stumbled back, the blonde man scurrying over to hide behind them.

“What, you let your little pet go wandering about the castle, and you’re surprised when we think she’s free for the taking?” the Scottish lady said scornfully.

Count Haddock stepped in front of the couch, shielding me from his three strange cohabitors. I saw he was so angry he was shaking, and he had to run a hand along the wall to steady himself, His fingernails dug into the wood like claws, and left long gougemarks.

I hadn’t noticed before then how sharp his nails were. Maybe seeing those two pointed front teeth so often desensitized me to sharp things on Count Haddock’s person. Maybe I should have been more alarmed. Truth be told, though, in the moment I was glad he was pulling the intimidation card on my behalf.

“She’s not my pet,” he snarled at his cohabitors. “She’s my business associate. If any of you so much as LOOK at her again, there’ll be hell to pay. You want Ms. Runeardsen, and you’ll have to go through me.”

“What’s so special about her?” the blonde lady griped. “She’s just a property lawyer! Can’t you get another one?”

“Yeah! We’re hungry!” the blonde man added crossly. “You haven’t brought us anything to eat in two weeks.”

I remember thinking, huh. They don’t look too worse for wear, for not having eaten in a fortnight.

Count Haddock scoffed. “A lot of business you have complaining when you three haven’t paid rent in 400 YEARS! I’ve been sharing my home with you, letting you freeload century after century, and THIS is how you thank me?!”

“Oh, here we go again, with the rent lecture,” the Scottish lady complained.

“Yeah, when are you gonna let that go, man?” the blonde man demanded.

“I’ll let it go when your lazy behinds start getting your OWN meals,” Count Haddock shot back, starting to sound tired.

“Why ARE you so enamored with that lawyer, anyways?” the blonde lady asked.

“Oooooohhhh!” the blonde man sneered. “Hiccup’s in looooove!”

The Scottish lady let out a harsh cackle. “Don’t be daft, both of you. He can’t love any more than we can. Not anymore.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Count Haddock’s voice softened, the anger and frustration seeming to drain out. He turned to face the three freeloaders, and I caught a glimpse of the side of his face.

His expression was tense, and his eyes were glistening in the darkness. He looked almost…sad.

“Maybe you’ve decided you can’t love anymore,” he said quietly. “But I’m not so sure.”

His whole body suddenly looked so crumpled and broken, and more than anything I just wanted to hold him. Sweep myself under that dark green cape of his and wrap my arms around his waist and tell him everything was going to be okay and he wasn’t unlovable and that I’m so grateful he probably saved my life. But with everything happening so fast, and his three creepy friends so close by, I just…I still couldn’t move.

“So, what?” the blonde man whined. “We don’t get any dinner? You promised!”

Count Haddock sighed. “FINE. You really don’t deserve it, after that horrifying stunt you pulled, but dinner’s in the bag.”

He walked over to the door and grabbed a large bag he had left there, slinging it over his shoulder. As he came back, I noticed something long and mangled sticking out of the top.

It was—and I wish I was joking—a human arm.

I thought all that talk of sucking and slurping and eating me was some kind of bizarre metaphor, but I guess not. Count Haddock and his friends, evidently, actually do eat people.

I guess my brain decided that was enough stress for one night, because the next thing I knew, I blacked out.

When I woke up, I was in my own bed. Pretty sure I didn’t sleepwalk all the way back here, so the only thing I can figure is that Count Haddock carried me. It’s vague, but the last thing I remember before I passed out is feeling his arms scooping under my legs and shoulders.

He must’ve carried me like a bride. Like Jack is going to carry Rapunzel after their wedding this summer. And all the way down the hall, too. And then he tucked me into bed and blew out the candles.

The thought shouldn’t make me blush as much as it does. I know it’s unprofessional. (Not to mention he also eats people.) But something about him…

The more I came to, the worse it got. As in, I realized he also left a glass of water on my bedside table and a platter of little mints and fresh Belgian chocolates, folded all my clothes on the floor and put them on a nearby chair (look, it is HARD keeping my room tidy, okay?!), and even changed me into a nightgown. All these little favors for me while I’m not even conscious, on top of keeping me safe from those strange roommates of his? How are you supposed to maintain a “strictly professional” relationship with—well, with someone like THAT? Someone who treats you so softly, and senses your needs better than you can, and is willing to unleash the wrath of a thousand ravenous beasts on anyone who may wish you harm? I mean yes, I should check up on what exactly the cannibalism situation is, but other than that…

I don’t know. Call me a naïve, wide-eyed sap, and a sorry excuse for a certified property attorney, but I don’t know if I can be “just colleagues” with Count Haddock. Something in me tells me we’re meant for something more.

Is that stupid? Probably. Nonetheless!

Human-flesh-eating aside, could you ask for a more perfect man??? I think not!

May 20

Hi friend,

Okay, SO. Hiccup finally told me what’s actually going on.

Yes, Hiccup! Uh…so Count Haddock and I are on a first name basis now. But more on that later.

So it all started when he called me in for dinner. So much good stuff last night, let me tell you—there was this kind of fried pancake thing called clătite brașovene, covered in batter and with beef, mushrooms, and breadcrumbs inside. It tasted amazing!!! He also made me this stuff called “robber steak,” and you really HAVE to try it—bacon, onion, and beef, red pepper seasoning, what’s not to love??? It reminded me so much of the little kebabs you can buy on the street back in Oslo! You know, the ones you give to the cats?

I got so excited when I saw the kebabs that…I think I squealed? Kind of unprofessional, but oh well. Probably so is lizard-walking down walls on all fours and feeding human bodies to your roommates, so Hiccup’s not in a place to judge. Anyways, I DID get a little embarrassed, and I guess I expected him to look amused, but he just seemed…sad?

And I couldn’t help it, I told him how much his robber steak reminded me of all the cats I buy street food for (and there are a lot…Jack’s always teasing that I’m going to blow through my first real paycheck buying dinner for every stray in Oslo), and how it felt like a little piece of home. And I swear, I think he teared up at that.

His tears weren’t…clear was the thing. It kind of looked like there was a little blood in them? He wiped them away too quickly for me to really tell. Anyways, his voice got curt and he corrected me, saying it wasn’t HIS robber steak but his COOKS’, and I shouldn’t group him in with commoners, etc etc. It sounded stilted, though, like he was rehearsing a script. And he wouldn’t meet my eyes as he said it.

He started to leave—and yes, I’ll admit it was a little undignified, but I called after him and asked him to stay for dinner. Not even to eat (seeing as he somehow always manages to eat before me), but just for company. It gets so lonely here, and he really did seem so melancholy. I thought maybe if we had an engaging conversation, we could perk each other up!

But he rushed off, saying he had to make dessert—and then immediately correcting himself that no, the COOKS had to make dessert. And he was gone, and, as usual, I had to eat my clătite brașovene and my robber steak in silence.

It was a long time before he came back. I was starting to doubt he would, thinking “dessert” was just an excuse to leave. Nonetheless, I waited at the table after I finished, admiring the paintings on the wall. Mostly portraits of sophisticated-looking young men, all in varying styles of dress from different time periods. Count Haddock’s ancestors, I assume—although oddly enough, all these men looked exactly like him. There were some pictures of those three strange people I ran into the other night—recent commissions, probably. And, of course, your standard gorgeous hill, forest, mountain, and river scenery—all landscapes in daylight, I noticed.

For as often as Count Haddock stays up all night, he doesn’t have many paintings of nightscapes, or the moon and stars. I guess he figures if he wants to see those, he can just look outside.

I was so wrapped up in the dining room art gallery that I started when the door opened. And there he was after all, holding a platter with some kind of cake on it.

I think it was meant to be…cozonac? It was hard to tell, honestly, because the whole thing was kind of flat and saggy and odd-looking—and when he cut it open, it was a mess of walnuts and melted chocolate that just sort of oozed out everywhere. It didn’t look anything like the pictures I’ve seen, but I’ll tell you what—it DID look delicious.

“I made this for you,” he said. No correction, no last-minute insistence that it was the kitchen staff. He swallowed hard and seemed to force himself to meet my eyes. He was fully owning up to producing this dessert that loosely resembled a cake, and I thought that was beautiful.

“You’ve been a great guest, and really helpful, and you’ve taught me so much about Oslo and Norway,” he added. “And I wanted to make you something with chocolate. Just, uh. I hope you like it.”

He started to back away, a little less quickly than he had with dinner. He hesitated, glancing from the table to the door like he couldn’t decide whether he should leave.

I chanced my input again. “Count Haddock, won’t you stay?”

And that’s when he sat down, smiling at me so softly that I felt warmer than the sun could ever make me. I don’t think the sharpest front teeth in the world could have made it any less beautiful.

“Call me Hiccup,” he said. “And yes. I’d like to stay this time.”

He cut me a piece of cozonac-ish cake, and was silent as I began to eat. When he did speak, his voice came out as this like…ashamed mumble, almost.

“I haven’t been honest with you.”

I was tempted to tell him that was obvious, but that seemed rude. I kept eating my dessert and looked at him expectantly.

“There…aren’t any kitchen staff, Anna. I wanted you to think I was some…normal, dignified nobleguy, with prestige and class and all that. Just your average member of the gentry, not…well, whatever the townsfolk say I am. But there aren’t any cooks. I’ve been preparing all your food myself.”

I barely managed to keep myself from laughing, and nearly choked on the cake in the process. “Hiccup,” I got out, fighting to keep my voice level. “I know.”

He gave me a weird look. “Wait. You do?”

“You’re not exactly subtle,” I told him. “And I know you’ve been making my bed and cleaning my room and leaving little gifts on my table. I think it’s endearing, and you’re without a doubt the BEST host I’ve ever had. You shouldn’t be so embarrassed just because this sort of thing is below your station, usually. Only the humblest AND noblest of men would work this hard to help a guest feel welcome.”

His cheeks darkened, and he looked away. “I mean—well, I DO appreciate that. But that isn’t the only thing you should know.”

And that, dear friend, is when I learned the whole truth. The full, would-be-court-approved testimony.

The Haddock story didn’t end with them fleeing Scandinavia and disappearing into Transylvania for the next several generations. Drago Bludvist was relentless, and he wasn’t about to let the foes who made his conquests so difficult get off easy. He slaughtered most of the Haddocks’ village and hunted down the survivors, ambushing them just when they finally thought they fled far enough.

The only ones to survive the second assault were the Haddock son and two of his friends. And this Bludvist guy, well…apparently, he had a pretty twisted sense of humor. He got a powerful warlock ally of his to put a terrible curse on all three, trapping them in a limbo where they could never age, supernaturally strong and fast forever (not bad perks honestly), but they had to subsist off human blood to survive and could never be in sunlight without getting burned. And so they found someplace out of the way, somewhere to hide from everyone who called them monsters.

Hiccup was crying by the time he finished the story. And I knew I wasn’t imagining it this time—there WAS blood in those tears.

And that’s about when I figured it all out. The pictures—they were all of HIM. He was the one who lost his dragon to Bludvist’s armies. And he was the last Haddock son, cursed with the worst kind of eternal life. Centuries old.

I thought he was being hyperbolic the other night, when he said his three roommates haven’t paid rent in 400 years. I guess not?

In any case, I couldn’t deny it any longer. I knew then that he was hungry for my blood. I knew then that he constantly must fight the urge to kill me, every instinct in him screaming at him to rip me apart. But I also knew then, without a shadow of a doubt, that no part of him WANTED to be that way.

I mean, I’m an attorney, for god’s sake. I can recognize fake crying when I see it.

And this boy had lost everything. His family. His tribe. His draconic best friend. His fiancé.

(I really don’t know why I still feel so weird about him having a fiancé several centuries ago. I guess it didn’t occur to me he might, although it shouldn’t be surprising—he’s an attractive man! Still, thinking about it makes me feel…uneasy for whatever reason. Funny how that’s eating at me more than him literally having to eat people to live, huh?)

That’s about when he confessed what I suspected all along: He was terribly lonely, locked away from the sun and the city and forced to live this kind of parasitic life. I can’t say whether he was venting in the heat of the moment, or if he had been working up the courage to admit this to me. Whatever the case, it only seemed to make him crumple more.

And I couldn’t help it, friend—something in me gave way. I don’t think I’d ever seen someone look so lost, and…shattered. In that moment, I decided “strictly business” etiquette could go to hell—if someone’s in immense distress, who am I not to help?!

So, in only the most unprofessional of ways, I rose from my seat and sat next to him, throwing my arm around his shoulder. He leaned into me in a way that made me think he had not been affectionately touched in a very, very long time.

For a while he cried into my neck, and I rubbed his shoulder and his back the way Elsa used to do before we grew apart. He stopped only to assure me he would wash the blood and tear stains out of my new suit as soon as he got the chance (having no staff means that, regrettably, he has to do all the washing himself. I did make sure to tell him he’s been doing a superb job of getting the sweat stains out of my blouses!). I told him not to worry himself over it, and I would be happy to help if laundry proved to be too much for him to handle right now. I’m sure resisting the urge to eat your delicious-smelling new friend is a trying affair, and I figure one gets stressed rather easily anyways when subjected to an eternal existence of sucking human blood in order to not die.

He told me, a little unsteadily, that I was the nicest person he’d met in 200 years. Every time he goes into town (to get cooking ingredients or new soap or what have you), everyone is always so rude, hissing and clutching their crucifixes and whimpering prayers. Last time Hiccup asked the grocer how his family was doing, the man called him hellspawn and told him he hopes his castle gets struck by lightning and goes up in a terrible inferno to match his personality! He also insulted Hiccup’s sun umbrella, saying it was severely out-of-fashion, and threw a bag of garlic at him that left burns that lasted weeks! Look, I know sucking blood can be a bit off-putting, but everyone deserves basic common courtesy, whether they eat people or not. Like come ON, have some maturity!

Anyways, I guess I soothed him after a while, because the crying died down—more like small sobs now and again instead of outright bawling. Once he seemed past the worst of all of it, I admitted something was confusing me. How was he so lonesome when the three strange people I met last night lived in the castle too, and apparently had been for quite some time? He chuckled a little darkly at this.

It turns out the four of them used to be great friends, a very long time ago. The blondes—a twin sister and brother, Ruffnut and Tuffnut—were the only other survivors from Hiccup’s village, and only others (that he knows of) to be afflicted with the vampire curse. That’s what his condition’s called, apparently. They were all each other had for a while. Merida, the Scottish lady, came a century or so later. She was a princess on the run from an arranged marriage, and she stumbled on Hiccup’s castle in her quest to go where no one could ever find her. Hiccup, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut invited her in, but Ruffnut ended up liking her too much to make a meal out of her, so she made her into a vampire instead. Apparently you can transfer the curse through some specific type of biting—who knew? I guess it makes sense, with those big pointy teeth and all.

They were thick as thieves, those four, back in the day. All kinds of running around the woods, climbing trees, scaling cliff faces with weird lizard wall-clinging skills. Seeing who could lift the thickest tree trunk (it was usually Merida). Dining on the town’s most depraved, stumbling on Hiccup’s castle on their run from the law.

But over the centuries, Hiccup and his friends grew apart. The main reason, he told me, was…“diverging opinions on the value of human life and such,” as he put it. Eventually, they ran out of deplorable townspeople and traveling ne’er-do-wells and bandits to eat, but the need for blood remained.

So Hiccup tried to live in moderation, taking only what he needed to survive. Occasionally even feeding on wildlife, for as far as that would get him. The others, however…

It sounded like an addiction of sorts—getting a little too fond of how lively and powerful they felt just after feeding on a human. And they wanted more, and more, and more…and kept finding ways to justify the killing to themselves, until they barely saw anything wrong with it at all. Makes me nervous, thinking of what they would have done to me the other night had Hiccup not showed up.

(I asked what happened after I passed out, and Hiccup told me his friends took their dinner and scuttled out the window in a huff. I didn’t ask who the “dinner” in the bag had been. Maybe I’d be happier not knowing…)

These days, Hiccup’s three cohabitors have gotten lazy, preferring to let Hiccup do the hard work of putting himself in danger to get them all food. They’ve been freeloading for…300ish years now, he tells me? And he dutifully provides still, despite how tumultuous things have gotten. I guess out of obsolete loyalty to his longest-standing friends, no matter how…morally questionable they’ve become. Or maybe grief for the friendship that once was. As is, though, he feels he has little in common with them anymore.

He told me how it breaks his heart, seeing how much the curse twisted the three of them. Often, he can’t even bear to be around them—to see what they’ve become. So he stays away, seeking them out only when it comes time to feed them. But the resentment, the anger that they’ve let themselves stray so far into the darkness—I can tell it’s still there. And the bitter loneliness of seeing his three best friends go down a disturbing path that he doesn’t have the heart to follow…it must weigh on him terribly.

“And that’s not even the worst part,” he told me when he finished the story. He stood suddenly as he said it, knocking my hand off him. It was difficult to imagine what could be significantly worse than having to regularly drink human blood, but nonetheless I gestured for him to continue.

“Ruff, Tuff, Mer, and I…” His voice shook as he said it, and he gripped the table like a lifeline. I wondered if the tears were going to come back.

“We were planning…” He trailed off and took a breath. “I’ve been trying to reach out to them. For, I don’t know, the last 50 years or so. Trying to rekindle the friendship we once had, because I couldn’t bear an eternity alone. Even if my only alternative was to spend it with people who had become…well, bloodthirsty and completely depraved. But I wanted someone. So the four of us made a plan—I made a plan. To try and make them happy. I thought maybe then, they’d love me again.”

He frowned at me and stiffened, like he was trying to hold himself together. “We figured it had been so many centuries that no one in our ancestral lands would remember who we were. If Drago had some kind of lineage, they surely would have died out by now. So we decided to return to the homeland in Scandinavia—to Oslo.”

“Of course!” I nodded, because it all made sense then. “That’s why we talked through buying all that land. You want to go home.”

“I was hesitant at first,” he admitted. “I was worried there were too many scenarios where we all ended up discovered and slaughtered. But the idea grew on me. I read books and newspaper articles and learned how much the outside world had grown since our time. And I realized how much I’ve missed the fjords and the sea cliffs and everything else. So I started setting everything in motion.”

He paused, like he was waiting for me to scream or wail or flee in terror or what have you. I planned on doing no such thing! I’m a professional, after all.

“Anna,” he added bluntly, when I didn’t provide him with a sufficiently horrified reaction. “We eat people. And we bought land in and planned to move to YOUR hometown. Shouldn’t you…I don’t know, be more concerned?”

Huh. Well, when he put it like that, I DID understand why this was concerning.

I couldn’t find myself too surprised, though, that this was the story behind everything going on. I’ve suspected something was up for a while now, and Hiccup and his roommates being cursed, blood-sucking creatures of the night fits with what I’ve seen. After all, what good is a lawyer if they can’t piece together the evidence they gather and arrive at something resembling the truth?

Hiccup doesn’t eat human food. No one in town will work for him. He can lizard crawl up the side of buildings. He has two front teeth perfected for breaking skin and drawing blood. He’s constantly in distress over seeing himself as some sort of “thing of evil.” His friends were talking about sucking me and draining me and calling me a meal. The townsfolk are terrified of him. He always disappears at dawn. He has circles of blue fire just lying around. Really, him being a blood-drinking night creature explains all that better than perhaps anything else could.

As absolutely absurd as it all sounds. But if law school taught me anything, it’s that oftentimes the truth is a LOT stranger than you think it will be. You can’t ever rule anything out until you have significant evidence against it—and it’s quite the opposite, in this case.

Strangely enough, I found I wasn’t hugely bothered with the idea of him coming to Oslo. It took me a moment to realize why.

“Well, you have to have blood to live, right?” I said. “So either you’ll be eating people here or you’ll be eating people in Oslo. What difference does it make where you are?” He gave me kind of a weird look, so I elaborated. “I mean, obviously the ideal number of people you would be eating is zero, but it sounds like that isn’t an option.”

He gave me what seemed like a genuinely apologetic look. “Anna, your friends…your family….”

Oh. Right. Jack and Punzie. Elsa. My colleagues at the firm.

I guess some part of me figured if I asked Hiccup to leave them out of it, he would. That he’d do me that one favor, after how much I’d tried to help him with the legalities of property transfer and the intricacies of Norwegian. That after everything…

Maybe he’d come to care for me.

The boss man would call me naïve if he knew. I guess I never could quash that little romantic in my chest, who kept insisting I wasn’t just fated to become some cranky, law-practicing old maid. But affection is a powerful thing, and I’d be an idiot to deny the reserve of it that was steadily building for Hiccup.

“And you…” He turned and walked away from the table as he said it. He started pacing back and forth, burying his face in his hands and groaning. “That’s the worst of all.”

That’s when the unease really started to set in, but I kept my cool. No one ever accomplished anything by descending into embarrassing hysterics.

“What about me?” I asked (impressively calmly, I think, given the situation).

“Once we got the property deeds, we were going to…” He cut himself off and sank into his hands, heaving a strangled breath.

I didn’t want to make him say it. “You were going to let your friends eat me. When I wasn’t useful anymore.”

“Yes!” He lowered his hands and looked right at me, and I saw he was teary-eyed again. “But I CAN’T, not now that I know you. These last few weeks have been the best I’ve had in decades. I’ve realized that I don’t just want to go to Oslo—I want to walk the streets with YOU, stopping at those little stalls to buy kebabs for the cats. I want to hold your hand under the aspens in the park and feed oats to the ducks—and I’d probably only eat one or two ducks, I promise. I want to ride the streetcars and window-shop and buy you things for Snoggletog…or whatever your equivaent of that nowadays is, anyhow. I want to roam the fjords with you at midnight, when it’s quiet—and watch the stars and the northern lights when there’s no one around but us. I want to see the moonlight on the waterfalls, and I want you to show me everything you love.”

He took a deep breath then, like he was willing the courage to go on. “You make Oslo sound so beautiful, but I can’t—I just can’t imagine it without you there, too. Getting excited when you point out all the things we talked about and filling my head with all of your fun facts. Telling me about your latest property court cases over fresh-cooked fårikål I made. Taking the train into the mountains on the weekend and watching the lynxes and puffins and reindeer and white foxes. I want to experience it all with you, Anna.”

I just stared at him, stunned. How did I, your run-of-the-mill property attorney, manage to impress a man who was centuries old?

“And now…the thought of hurting you, I just can’t—” He cut himself off again and heaved a ragged sob. “I couldn’t forgive myself. I’m so sorry I planned to. Sometimes, I think the townspeople are right about me—I really AM some kind of vile demon.”

And that’s when—god forgive me—I made what was easily the most unprofessional move of my career.

I couldn’t help it. He looked so devastated, and I had to show him he was a better man than he believed.

I stood and crossed the room in a few strides. His head was in his hands again, but he looked up as I approached.

And then, before my logical lawyer brain could kick in, I leaned in and grabbed his cheeks and I kissed Count Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III just like in the fairy tales!!!

His mouth was on the cold side, and his lips were dry and chapped, but he tasted so right. And he smelled like chocolate and nuts and cake batter and a little bit like what had come to feel like home.

I think I shocked him at first, because I felt him stiffen. But then he melted into it, and cold arms wrapped around my neck and suddenly it was one of those moments where I felt rather foolish for ceasing to believe in magic when my childhood was over. If the mystical was a farce, how did you explain the soft, velvety feeling in my chest, brought about from nothing but unchecked bliss?

And let me tell you, I don’t think I’ve ever felt safer than in the arms of a centuries-old undead creature. The irony is scandalous, I know.

Even after our lips parted, he still clung to me like a lost kitten. I pressed my forehead to his, just to assure him I was comfortable.

I spoke as quietly and soothingly as I could, saying “I’m not afraid of you. And I know you’re not going to hurt me now. I trust you.”

“How do you know you should?” he asked me, voice trembling.

I had to laugh at this, and I told him “Because, um…I really don’t think you would have put so much thought into all the fun activities we were going to do in Oslo together if you still planned on draining all my blood out.”

That got a laugh out of him, too! I think I was doing pretty damn well, all things considered.

“You…don’t hate what I am?” he asked.

“No,” I told him. “I’m not really that surprised, given all your…well…all the oddities around here. But you can’t help it that you were cursed, and I can tell you’ve got a good heart. That’s what matters to me.”

“It’s just…ugh. It’s all so complicated now.” He pulled away a little, hands on my shoulders as he stared at the ground. “The four of us were going to take over the whole damn city, draining or turning every last one of them. But now I can’t. I can’t do that to your home! And I wouldn’t hurt the people you care about, but…how am I going to keep Mer, Ruff, and Tuff away?”

He started to pace again, gesturing wildly as he talked. “And I already sent off the property deeds to be approved by your boss! What am I going to do when they come back?! How do I tell Merida and the others that maybe I don’t want to do this after all? Would they just kill me? Could they just kill me?”

I pointed out that was unlikely, considering they seemed like they hadn’t been outside the castle to even hunt in several years, but he still seemed worried.

“I can’t take over an entire city!” he went on. “Or subject them to this—this life I’m stuck with! But I still want to go to Oslo, but I have to eat! What am I supposed to do?!”

I pondered on it as he continued with his anxious ramble.

“Well,” I said—perhaps a little cheekily, I’ll admit. “You know, there’s plenty of ne’er-do-wells and criminals in the backalleys of Oslo. I’m sure they could stand to lose a little blood here and there. I mean, the authorities TRY to round them up, and we lawyers try to make sure they can’t make any more trouble, but even the keenest of law-upholders can’t catch them all.”

“So how long would they last?” he demanded. “How long before I start having to eat good people again, Anna? I don’t know how much longer I can take it!”

I pondered more at this. “I don’t know. It would take careful planning, for sure, and you’d have to figure out how to reign in your friends so they don’t make all of Oslo into a bloodbath, but I don’t think it’s hopeless. I’m trained to navigate, er—tricky situations, you could say. Legal, mostly, but it’s not strictly limited to that.”

“I just don’t know.” He shook his head, breathing hard. “I want to go, I want to explore, I want to see my homeland again, but I don’t—I don’t want to ruin your city with my…my undead debauchery! And I don’t want to put your friends in danger, but I want to stay with you, and this whole plan is a mess, and I just…I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

He repeated the words frantically, over and over as he paced with his hands tugging at his hair. A strange calm settled over me, and for whatever reason, I suddenly felt more collected than I had in days.

Even if he was fraying, that didn’t mean I couldn’t tie up his loose ends. I didn’t pass the BAR to fall into panics whenever trouble arose.

“Hiccup,” I said, walking over to him again. I reached up and placed a hand on top of his own, guiding it down from his head and lacing our fingers together. His shaking seemed to wane, if only a little.

I spoke with as much confidence as I’d ever had, and I told him:

“I know it seems like a lot, but I promise you we will figure something out. I’m a lawyer, after all—it’s my goddamn job.”

[ao3feed-crimeboys]

pour your heart into a journal, i'll read it later

by resspantspantspants

  August 8th, 2021

  First entry? Dad said I should start a new hobby and google told me journaling. So here I am.

  School is starting tomorrow. I fucking hope to god Tubbo and Ranboo have classes with me. Like it will fucking suck if I have go thru all 7 periods alone.

  God that sounds depressing. I’m not actually depressed. Just. Wilbur left yesterday for college and won’t be back til fucking spring break. Spring break! That’s literally months away! What kinda bullshittery is that. Well I think he might be back for Christmas, but idk. Anyways since I’m not actually depressed and have an actual life and shit, gonna go now.

  Tommy

Tommy dies, and Wilbur finds his journal. This is what happened after.

Words: 3440, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 10 of alphabet challenge

Fandoms: Dream SMP, Minecraft (Video Game)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Major Character Death

Categories: Gen

Characters: Wilbur Soot, Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)

Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson

Additional Tags: Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot-centric, Phil Watson is Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit's Parent, Major character death - Freeform, Aromantic Asexual TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Has Mental Health Issues (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot Has Mental Health Issues, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur Soot is Not Okay, Suicide, Suicidal TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Suicidal Thoughts, pls get help if you have any of the thoughts written, No Beta I'm Tired, no shippers ur gross, pls read tags or i'll cry

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/38957931

[aspecpplarebeautiful]

Aghhhhh,,, I just can’t tell whether or not I want a relationship. I’m in one right now and like. I guess I’m fine with it? mostly I just feel neutral to it, and sometimes repulsion. Sometimes happiness bcus I really do love them, except platonically, so like ehh but. I feel bad bcus I don’t love the other like they love me. They’ve made it apparent it’s romantic, and I’ve said that mine is platonic, and they know, but I still feel kinda bad. They were so clearly sad when I told them, even if they said it was okay later on. They deserve someone that can love them the way they want to be loved, someone that can make them fully happy. And I can’t. And idk if I’m okay with life partnership?? In general? I just don’t know. It seems USEFUL, but it also seems.... off? Just. Something irks me that I can’t place. Like. You can be finically better off, work together and even out your strengths and weaknesses, comfort each other when you’re sad, never have to excessively plan if u wanna hang. But I still can’t bring myself to like. Be happy for it? I guess? I wANT to like it. It seems objectively better. I just don’t know if I do or not. A life all alone seems harder, lonelier, scarier. I don’t have any guarantee of people to love and be loved by, if that makes sense, even if I can’t love the way others do. Having my own house seems nice, relaxing. But I’m just. Confused and scared. And impatient. I don’t really know what I want. I’m just kinda existing.

I’m not sure if you’re looking to vent or you’re looking for advice, so feel free to ignore if you just wanted to vent and be heard by people who’ll understand.

It’s genuinely difficult though, and making these choices is scary because no matter which direction you go things may not pan out and you may regret it. It can also be hard to figure out do you want a partnership because there’s a part of you that genuinely does or is it because it’s been drilled into you.

The relationship thing is complicated too, but it is possible for two people to have a happy relationship when one person’s feelings are platonic and the other is romantic. It’s not right for everyone, and it’s OK if it’s not right for you or your partner, but I’d be careful about just assuming it isn’t right for your partner. It’s possible they aren’t feeling fulfilled, and that would be an issue if true, but it’s also possible they just needed time to adjust to a reality they weren’t expecting. It can definitely be shocking when you’re fed a very rigid way of how relationships work, and there can be an adjustment period when the one you get isn’t what you’re expecting. But it doesn’t make it bad, or even something you wouldn’t want. 

So I guess that’s a lot of words to say make sure you’re not making assumptions, and let your partner decide what they think will make them happy and make that choice for themselves. And if they say they’re happy with that relationship, do your best to believe them.

Sometimes better communication and tweaking the relationship can help with these types of issues. I don’t know if this is an issue here (I suspect it may not be, but just in case) but remember relationships don’t have to fit any cookie cutter molds. You can figure out something that suits your dynamic with your partner best. But also try and trust your feelings too and if things just don’t feel right, and you’re not happy, that could be a sign.

Remember that a lot of people are also happy single, it’s definitely drilled into us that we’ll die alone or whatever, but it’s absolutely possible to forge strong connections with other people (if that’s important to you), and live a really happy fulfilling life not in a relationship. So make sure the reason you’re avoiding singleness isn’t just having internalized that cultural bias against being single.

Situations like this, sometimes journaling can help and give you some perspective too. Especially if you go back and read old entries every once in a while. But whatever you do, you’ll find the path that’s right for you.

All the best, and good luck, Anon!

[foreheadtouch]

Were you raised Catholic? Sorry, I’m really interested in spirituality and particularly Catholicism right now and I’d love to hear a little bit about your experience if you’re willing to share. 💓

thank you for asking… yes i was. overall i am so grateful that i grew up surrounded by the faith… that’s not to say i haven’t had struggles and doubts or even periods where i entirely pulled away.

oh wow i have been ramblingggg in the notes app and there’s so much more i could say but i’m going to put it all under the cut... anyways idk if this is helpful at all but it’s sort of where i’m at... i’m definitely still in a grappling and questioning process (which i think will be lifelong) but i’m glad i’ve reconnected with my faith over the past 2 years. please please feel free to ask any other catholicism or spirituality questions! sending you love 🤍

i grew up going to church every sunday and taking religion classes in grade school and completing all of my sacraments. i always thought there was something beautiful about faith but when i was young it was more of a naive, childlike wonder than actual belief or anything. i basically grew up learning bible stories, god loves you, and treat others the way you want to be treated. as i got older, things became more complicated as they naturally do. i became aware of the systemic problems of organized religion, i wanted to understand what catholicism meant at a deeper level, i began questioning parts of my own identity, and my ocd that had been a problem when i was younger got way worse as my life became more stressful and it began to intertwine with my faith. i stopped praying because i enjoyed it and started repeating prayers until they “felt right” otherwise i thought something bad would happen and it would even cause me such bad panic attacks that i would become paralyzed (that’s a simplified version, but it was painful and distressing). by the time i was 15 or 16 faith became something super mechanical for me. i went through the motions because that’s how i was raised and that’s what i knew. i was afraid to ask questions because i was afraid of the answers. i didn’t want to find something out that would make me stop believing and i didn’t want my beliefs challenged. i started just blindly adhering even though i didn’t understand things fully.

in college, i started taking a bunch of philosophy courses for a program i was in and it forced me to confront the questions that i was afraid of. i began to completely pull away. belief in god and jesus seemed absurd and way too attenuated to true. i basically became agnostic for my freshman and sophomore year. i still appreciated catholicism but in a purely aesthetic way as a lot of people do… i was yeah sure they have beautiful churches and make great art but it’s probably not all real all those clichés… over the next year i experienced a lot of personal tragedies and mental health problems… when i went back to school i signed up for a theology class on a whim… honestly it was because i thought the professor was hot and the course was about love and the human condition… that class reminded me of what i loved about catholicism mainly through reading different books and essays... st. augustine’s confessions and essays about divine love... dostoevsky… and one book i’ll recommend over and over to anyone wanting to discover or rediscover faith in any form is etty hillesum’s an interrupted life. it’s a collection of journal entries by a dutch jewish woman during world war ii… and i don’t even mean to be this corny but it was genuinely a spiritual experience reading that book… every line felt like she was taking a thought out of my own head and putting it on paper… i called my mom sobbing when i read it… and that inspired me to actually learn about catholicism at a more intellectual level… i had all these extremely intelligent professors who had degrees in astrophysics from harvard and studied under famous 20th century philosophers and writers... and even people like donna tartt writing about her faith... i was inspired by them and i craved belief in something. i started asking questions and reading and watching youtube videos and debates between people of all faiths and atheists and going back to mass just to see how it felt. the reading obviously helped but honestly just going to a traditional mass and listening to the music and just having that experience really does work.

[recreationalcatnip]

misc TWoaM fun facts

TWoaM takes place in a mishmash of my college town, my sister’s college town, and my hometown. aka, a place that doesnt exist

the reason i wrote the thunderstorm in chapter 4 was bc i was already writing the fic by that point (may 3rd) and wrote down (on may 3rd) in my brainstorming note that it had thunderstormed that evening. i wish i had kept track of the weather every day during that two week period, but sadly that thunderstorm and the fact that it was an unusually cold spring overall are my only points of meteorological realism. 

The phases of the moon and the eta aquariids are also astronomically correct tho.

idk why i decided Felix would be like, average middle class guy with class consciousness and everything. like in canon he and sylvain are both from noble houses, so why did i decide sylvain would be the guy who owns a canada goose jacket and goes on vacation to turks and caicos? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i really did see the electrician leg lamp billboard in real life. i immediately wrote it down to put in this fic.

considered making sylvain have a women/gender/sexuality studies minor, bc u KNOW he took that intro class freshman year. but also then he would have realized he was gay sooner, so eheu 😔

i originally made sylvain have a king size bed and then was like “nah that’s excessive even for him”

still never actually decided what felix’s major is. it’s up to reader interpretation

original scrivener document title was “the width of a mattress (or, how to run from your feelings while sheltering in place.)” later it became “the width of a mattress (change this later)” and then i never changed it later

the weirdest thing i “researched” for this fic: the owner’s manual for annette’s first generation subaru forester. to check where the buttons were, that it had adjustable fader, where the speakers were, etc

in addition to the insane list of everyone’s majors (except felix’s), I had also made an insane list of who was roommates/suitemates with who each year. this was absolutely not necessary and never came up.

literally wrote random horny snippets and then assembled them into sex scenes by being like “well, logically, this sex act could happen and then lead into this sex act… no wait, that would be switching POVs mid scene… but what if I rewrote it from the other POV… okay and then i can put this post-sex banter here…” it was sex tetris

i have 6k+ words of things i wrote that didn’t make it into the final cut of the fic. rip to the darlings i had to kill

these deleted scenes include: 2 more felix dreams, 1 more sylvain journal entry, the in-universe explanation for why felix calls dimitri “the boar,” linhardt being nb, a text convo with ingrid about her and leonie’s equal but opposite internalized lesbophobia, the lady lions book club… etc etc

manuela and shamir appear in TWoaM, they just never introduced themselves