#there is much much more to say but ill keep it concise

[halalchampagnesocialist]

I've probably made a gazillion posts of this iteration over the many years but it bears repeating. What frustrates me about liberal discourses on Palestinian-Israeli violence is the implication that violence is sporadic on both sides. It's frustrating because people will act like the only real issue with Israeli violence towards Palestinians is ones that come solely from extremist settlers or from right-wing governments.

You might argue that perhaps Palestinian violence against Israelis is random, sporadic and so on, but that is not the case with Israeli violence towards Palestinians at all. Israeli violence towards Palestinians is systemic but also is a daily occurrence. Not only does Israel kill Palestinians every single day, even prior to the current war, but it acts as a bystander to settler violence, even actively supports the settler violence. Violence does not even have to be murder but just the sheer control over Palestinian lives. The fact that Israel can cut water, electricity, etc to Palestinians at any time without notice. The way that Israel can come into any city and bulldoze streets like it's been doing in Jenin and Tulkarem in the West Bank. Of course, can't forget to mention the land grabs and that Israel can designate any piece of land a closed military zone whenever it wants. Sometimes there is no rhyme or reason to Israel's actions at all but just does so to play with the lives of Palestinians.

The Israeli hostages did not deserve to die but you absolutely cannot talk about the tragedy of their deaths or Hamas' 'brutality' in isolation without also mentioning that Gaza has been effectively turned into a death camp or that Israel holds thousands of Palestinians in its prisons without trial. This isn't mentioning that Israel as the occupier can kidnap any person it wants at any time and treats those prisoners very inhumanely.

The worst part about all this is not just the obfuscation of these facts but so many of these same people acting like the violence is sporadic act so nonchalant towards Palestinian deaths in 'normal times.' Or even towards whoever Israel kills as long as Israel gets their wanted guy. It's also this discourse that leads certain people to deny Israeli culpability, minimise Palestinian suffering, etc.

[norrizzandpia]

I absolutely love your writing, I am obsessedd! Could you do a story where yn is in a car crash (or something along those lines), and then a scared Lando? And I would love you even more if yn doesn't immediately wake up or immediately is ok

Kissess

Is it mentally ill for me to love this trope?

What Died Didn’t Stay Dead (LN4)

Summary: Y/n’s close to fatal car crash and the epiphanies that followed.

Warnings: detailed depictions of a car crash, mentions of death, lots of angst, happy ending

Note: GUESS WHO’S BACK AND READY TO WRITE OVER THE SUMMER

There was a distant memory of Lando going ninety in a forty-five as Y/n drove his McLaren to work. Her hands on the wheel and mind elsewhere, she giggled to herself when the image of him pouting at a ticket and its astronomical price sat in the forefront of her mind.

“Could you, for one second, respond to what I’m saying?” The voice of her boss rang through the car’s speakers.

Y/n rolled her eyes. She hated this woman. “I am responding to you. I just have nothing more to say.”

The woman coughed on the other side of the phone, phlegm prominent in the sound, “What you need to generally understand here is that we, as a company and a branch, cannot have you dating someone with such a high profile. Especially when he continually goes against vehicle regulations and laws. We are a law firm, Y/n. One that helps clients who have been involved in car accidents. Lando Norris, Formula One Driver and known speeder, dating someone who handles cases such as ours.”

Y/n nodded to herself, “I get that, Ann. But, I don’t know what you want me to do? You can’t fire me due to my personal relationships and you can’t demand me to separate from him. This is an empty issue, which you have brought to my attention without a concise and cohesive solution. When you can figure out a way for me to continue to date my partner and keep my job as it is without this supposed issue, come to me. But, for right now, it sounds as though this is empty complaining.”

Ann scoffed, “Between me and you, Y/n, it would be in your best interest to part ways with Lando Norris.”

Speechless and shocked, Y/n’s eyes averted to the screen with Ann’s name and number presented. She couldn’t believe the suggestion, much less the blatant disregard for professionalism. With the massive distraction, she failed to see the aggressive driver approaching her right in the rear view mirror.

A sentence she began to speak fell short when the car attempted to move into her lane, one that had no more space to accommodate his large truck. He hit her front bumper with such force she spun out into oncoming traffic. With the rush hour and the lack of free area to miss an out of control car, the McLaren was smashed to pieces after being hit at every angle and every speed.

The shredded mound of parts smacked the shoulder of the road, ending its violent rampage. Ann stayed quiet on the other side of the call, having heard Y/n’s screams and the dwindling of them as crunching metal continued on.

“Y/n?” She whispered into the speaker, but there was no answer.

—

“Oscar! That’s not the way you do it!” Lando screeched, looking at the phone screen and the comments popping up in outrage over the way Oscar was trying to mold his car.

The Australian just scrunched his nose at Lando, “I do things the way I want to!”

Raging laughter from Lando met the ears of everyone watching the stream just as Oscar’s clay car fell apart moments after he uttered his rebuttal.

His pale hands came up in defense, “How was I supposed to know?!”

Lando just continued laughing, “‘I do things the way I want to!’ Dumbass.”

Oscar scoffed and the words formed on his lips just as the door burst open. Adam stood at the threshold, eyes red and phone clutched to his ear as he stared at his son.

“Lando.” He said, his voice breaking.

Maybe it was the tone or the fact the syllables couldn’t quite leave his mouth because of the sobs emitting from him. Lando thought it had to have been the look on his father’s face, the pain etched into his eyes and his soul, that told me what he needed to know.

HIs face dropped, remnants of laughter completely destroyed by the suggestion of Adam’s sorrow. Lando grabbed the jacket off the back of his chair and in a haze, he muttered, “Is she dead?”

Part of him wished Adam would’ve given him a definite answer. Part of him thought the answer yes would’ve been better than the I don’t know he was given.

I don’t know meant Y/n was almost there. I don’t know meant Y/n was fighting for her life and what everyone knew her to be. He hated the idea she was fighting for the existence of her memory and the achievements he knew she was bound to make in the future.

When they left the room, running to the car outside and waiting for them, Lando hated the idea that Y/n was fighting for the future they had always wished to share together. Marriage, kids, settling down, and going gray with her was almost completely out of his reach and that dread prompted the vomit that spewed from his mouth into his backpack as they rode to the hospital.

—

Lando’s phone blew up so much, he had to shut it off, so the silence he was forced to endure in the chair of the hospital’s waiting room was brought about unwillingly.

At that point, his nails had been bitten so far down, he was bleeding. Blood only spurred the picture of Y/n dosed in it as she was lifted from his wrecked car.

The insurance company and McLaren had both agreed it was very clearly not Y/n’s fault and they would cover the cost of his beloved, customized McLaren.

Beloved.

He thought it had been funny when one of the McLaren engineers had said that to him, promising his “beloved” car back to its original state. Funny because “beloved” didn’t describe how he felt about that car. He loved that car. It was everything to him. He remembered getting the car, feeling as though his life had changed completely for the better with the presence of this beauty in his life. He cherished it, he took care of it, that car would always hold a piece of his heart.

Then he realized that the sentimental thoughts he was having surrounding the car was just an allegory for Y/n.

He loved Y/n. She was everything to him. He remembered meeting her, feeling as though his life had changed completely for the better with the presence of her beauty in his life. He cherished her, he took care of her, she would always hold a piece of his heart.

Losing her was not an option. It never would be.

Please, to anyone out there, do not take her from me, he pleaded out to the emptiness of the universe. An empty universe that was trying to take his happiness from him. A cruel universe that was trying to strip the world of her impact.

Please was the only word on his mind when the doctor appeared from behind the swinging doors that led to the operation rooms. A tired look on his face was warranted for the hours of work he had just put into trying to save Y/n’s life.

He stopped in front of Adam and Lando, his tall frame making them stand up. On wobbling legs, Lando began to cry.

”Please tell me she’s going to be okay. You have no idea who she is, what she has done. Please, Y/n has gone and could continue to go so far. This cannot be it for her. She has so much left to do. Please, tell me-”

“Lando,” The doctor interrupted, his hand on his shoulder as a comfort, “Her injuries were extensive, but she pulled through. The recovery will be long and painful, but there’s no permanent damage. She’s incredibly lucky and one of the strongest people I have ever helped.”

A loud sigh of relief left Lando’s mouth, his body slinking down into the chair behind him. He held his head in his hands, his fingers clasped together as he said a silent prayer to a God he thought he didn’t believe in.

Thank you, he gave over and over in his mind.

—

“Do you think I could see her now?” Lando caught up with the doctor’s steps as he seemed to be rushing to another room.

The man stopped, turned to Lando, and then cocked his head. He stared at him for a moment with the wheels turning in his head.

A curt nod and smile had Lando rushing off to the room number he had made the nurse repeat back to him so many times just so he could memorize it for when the time was right.

Now was his time.

Pulling open the door, he stopped himself. He prepared himself for the battered and bruised Y/n he was bound to see. Lando’s mind flooded with vivid videos of her laughing, sleeping on his chest, looking at him like he had single-handedly given her the world and more. He wanted to remind himself of that Y/n, not the one he was about to see. She would always be the same to him and he knew she would come back to him, but, for the time being, he knew he would have to rely on the memories of her where she was truly electrictrified with life.

He finally stepped through and the sight of her in whatever comatose state they had put her in made his teary eyes leak.

His body fell into the chair by her bed, his hand coming to clutch hers. Her skin was cold when he brought it to his cheek, but the red tint to her cheeks was still there.

Her lungs falling up and down grabbed his attention, “Baby,” He breathed, “I love you.”

Silence responded and he continued, “When you wake up, I promise you I will not continue to make the cowardly decision of chickening out of asking you to marry me. I know you know I have the ring. That night when I came home to you elbow deep in my sock drawer was a dead giveaway. I know you know it’s taking me so long to gain the courage and I thank you for being patient, but I cannot go another waking moment with the idea floating around in my head that there is a possibility you will never share my last name. I need you to be a Norris if it is the last thing I do.”

Her body stayed in its place and her hand stayed still in his clutch, but he knew she was in there. She needed her rest, just as the nurses had explained to him and he agreed. The bruises on her face, the casts surrounding her body, he didn’t want her to wake up to this.

—

And she wouldn’t have to. When she woke up weeks later, the bruises had healed, the cuts had become skin once more, and the casts had dwindled down to one. Lando was there too when her eyes squinted open and she groaned out. Groggy and confused, Y/n’s face turned to Lando’s. The two met each other’s eyes and the rest was expected. The rushed words of gratitude, love, and adoration accompanied by Lando’s repeated statements for her to marry her were all seemingly written in the stars. Cliche, maybe, but the way they held each other in the soft sunlight of her hospital room, the now fiancées happened upon the thought that whatever was meant to happen was going to happen.

And they were meant to happen.

[angelicyoongie]

The Ivory Fang (Il/finale)

— pairing: mermaid taehyung x (f) reader — word count: 8.2k — warnings: (soft?) yandere — summary: You have run out of options when it comes to treating your mother's illness. When a mysterious man offers you a solution that might save her, you decide that nothing is too strange if it means it'll lead to a cure – not even finding and striking a deal with a mermaid.

Part 01 - 02

The bones above you rattle as you dare to step closer to the pool. Your body trembles under Taehyung's intent gaze, the sharp points of his fangs peeking out as he smirks. There's no doubt in your mind that he would be able to rip you to pieces in seconds with teeth like that, yet, you can't run away now. There is nowhere for you to go but forward and Taehyung has all of the answers you have so desperately been searching for.

"Your request?" Taehyung prompts. His fin flicks lazily up and down, keeping his shimmering tail floating just above the water.

"You know what it is," You find yourself growing angry amid of your fear, annoyed that you were sent on a wild goose chase so far away from your mother. "Why could you not grant my wish on land? Why drag me all the way here?"

Taehyung's icy eyes light up at your vexed tone, openly finding pleasure in your displeasure. He taps a finger against his cheek, dragging out the silence to seemingly shake you further before he says, "My magic is stronger at the island. Your.. situation, requires a great deal of it, so it must be done here."

"Magic abides by certain rules, an order, which must be kept if you want your wish to be successful. So I will ask you again, human, what is your request?"

A brief thought strikes you about faeries and their ability to twist your words into something foul as you look down at Taehyung's mischievous smile. There was a folktale your mother used to tell you when you were young, to teach you to always speak the truth. You followed your mother's will, scared by the implication that a creature could twist your words, until you realized that sometimes - lying was kinder than telling the truth. But perhaps there had been something valuable in her teachings nonetheless. Maybe a mermaid's magic, much like a faerie's, can twist your request into something terrible if you allow space for it.

You take a moment to formulate the request in your mind, making it as perfect and concise as possible without leaving any room for trickery. "I want you to cure my mother of the sickness that is eating away at her body and make her healthy again."

The mermaid tilts his head, exposing the gills along his neck as he considers it. "Very well. And what may you be willing to sacrifice for me to grant your request?"

The answer slips out just as easily as it did the first time Taehyung asked you.

"Anything."

"If it is something of equal value then..." Taehyung pushes himself back from the edge of the pool, the distance making it easier for him to once again scrutinize you from head to toe. You're not entirely sure what he's looking for or what he finds, but he seems to deem it acceptable. "Hmm, fine. I shall grant it."

The mermaid suddenly submerges himself underwater, swimming into the depths of the pool. You shudder as you look over the edge and realize you can only faintly see Taehyung's tail shimmering down below, the water far deeper than you were expecting. You hastily retreat as you notice Taehyung's form becoming more visible, the mermaid clearing the distance in only a few seconds as he breaches the surface. He has something clutched in his hand, something mushy and soft that strongly resembles algae. The only difference is that this seaweed is glowing, a faint light emitting from it as soon as it comes into contact with air.

Taehyung spares you no explanation as he swims over to the other side of the pool, to the same spot he was lounging before you revealed yourself. You watch in fascination as he finds a large shell, placing the algae into it before he starts mushing it up even further with what looks to be a white crystal. You wince as he tears a lock of hair from his head, uncaring, as he adds it to the mixture. There are a few more things added into it that you can't make out from where you're standing, and for your self-preservation, you think it best to stay where you are.

The mermaid eventually makes his way back to you, his concoction held safely above the water's surface. "Come closer, human, I need you for the final part of the potion."

You hesitate for only a split second, wary of closing the distance. But the guilt of knowing that you're only prolonging your mother's suffering finally pushes to you take a few more steps forward, falling to your knees at the edge of the pool.

"Very good," Taehyung purrs. "First, I need back what I gave you." The fang.

You had completely forgotten about it in the midst of everything else. You feel a jolt of panic as you rummage around the loose pockets of your trousers, not finding anything. Did you lose it in the sea? Patting yourself down, you let out a tiny sound of realization as you remember the hidden pocket in the back, the one your mother added for safekeeping coins.

"Here," You place the fang by the edge of the pool, watching as Taehyung picks it up with a carefulness you never would have associated with a creature like him.

You shrink back as he suddenly raises a webbed hand towards your face, your heart hammering in your chest as you get a good close-up of his awfully sharp claws. You squeeze your eyes shut as he makes a swiping motion, sure that those talons are going to cut your throat wide open. Instead, only feel a light tug at your hair, much like a knife cutting through it.

You open your eyes just in time to see Taehyung adding a few strands of your hair to his brew, grinding it down to nothing with his crystal. He whispers low under his breath as he stirs, speaking a tongue you have never heard before. You wonder if it's magic or if it's simply the language of mermaids. It feels old though, like perhaps it is older than time itself.

Taehyung places the shell in front of you as he finishes his incantation. "You must drink this and think of your intention – your request – as you do so."

The brew looks murky green and slimy, definitely not at all appealing. It makes your stomach turn to know that you'll be ingesting his hair, but if this is all you need to do, then that is a small price to pay for your mother's health. You grimace as you pick the shell up, balancing it carefully between your hands as you bring it up to your lips. The smell that hits your nose is repugnant and you have no doubt that it will taste even worse. You take a deep breath in through your mouth, using the moment to steel yourself and think of your mother before you tip the shell forward.

Nothing could have prepared you for the absolutely horrid taste that hits your tongue, some of the slimy potion pooling in your mouth despite your best attempts to quickly swallow it. As the final gulp passes down your throat and you heave for air, desperate for something to scrape the nasty residue off your tongue, you feel a heaviness settle around your wrists and ankles. The sensation weighs you down for a moment, tight around your limbs, before it disappears just as quickly as it arrived.

"What was that?" You croak, touching your unblemished wrist.

You freeze as a webbed hand suddenly covers yours, your breath catching in your throat at how wet and off his touch feels. The sharp points of Taehyung's claws are digging into your skin, just short of slicing into your arteries.

"It was your end of our deal. The only thing of equal value to saving a life is to take another. Killing you would be a pity, so chaining your life to mine seemed a better option."

You swallow thickly, unease spreading through your body like wildfire. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Well, if I call, you come. If I ask you to do something, you do it."

"So, I'm your servant," You conclude. "That's... fine. I'll aid you whenever you find yourself in our town."

Taehyung is silent for a long moment before he lets out a small chuckle, one that sounds like he just watched a kitten trip over its own feet. "Oh guppy, I do not think you understand. You are chained to me and my magic that rests on this island. You cannot leave."

"No!" You whip your head up, flinching as you find Taehyung's face much too close to yours. "But– But my mother? How will I know if our deal has worked?"

The mermaid shrugs, indifferent to your distress.

"Trust, I suppose. Desperation. If you ever attempt to leave, the spell will break and your mother will revert back to her sick self again. It is up to you whether you are willing to chance it."

You think you should have seen this coming – how cruel a deal with a magical creature can be. If you stay here you can't confirm that Taehyung is holding up his end of the deal but you also cannot risk going back to check on the odd chance that it actually breaks the spell and dooms your mother. You have no choice but to trust him – to hope that the magic that binds you, also binds him.

Taehyung senses your quiet acceptance, his claws drifting from your wrist to your cheek. You don't fight it as he lifts your head, forcing you to meet his gaze. The mermaid seems to revel in your misery, his eyes gleaming with something hungry and dangerous as he stares you down. His claws draw blood as he slinks closer, the small pinpricks leaving streaks of red trickling down your face.

Taehyung's breath ghosts over your lips as he leers and says, "Now human, what should we do with you?"

Servant was perhaps too kind of a word.

The mermaid puts you to work right away, sending you out to different parts of the island to collect items he needs. He often leaves you with vague descriptions, forcing you to make the trek multiple times when the plant or leaves you have plucked aren't the ones he's looking for. He never allows you to rest or eat until your task for the day is done.

You hobble into the cave, winching with every step as your bloodied and bruised skin makes contact with the hard rock underneath. Taehyung sent you out to find a red fruit today, one that grows at the very top of a tree. You haven't done much climbing since you were a child and certainly never that high up, so each branch you picked to take you further was chosen with caution. Your feet were already scraped and bloodied by the time you had made it halfway up the trunk and the rest of your climb wasn't made easier by the sap-like texture dripping out of the bark, causing every step to feel like it might be your last.

Your legs are shaking with pain by the time you step into the cavern, the crudely woven basket on your back so heavy it threatens to drag you down with each step. Collapsing near the pool's edge, you heave it off your shoulders to give to Taehyung. The mermaid hasn't spared you a single glance since you appeared, his attention locked onto the new concoction he's working on. It isn't until you loudly clear your throat that Taehyung turns around, propelling himself to the other side of the pool in a few seconds with a few strong strokes of his tail.

He hums contently as he takes stock of all the fruit you gathered, rummaging around to make sure that they're all in good condition. Taehyung pierces into the flesh with his claws, red juice dripping down his hand as he holds up the fruit to closer inspect it. His cold gaze moves over to you once he deems it satisfactory.

"Did you eat one, human?"

"No," You shake your head. To say you hadn't been tempted would be a lie, but you were afraid of disobeying the mermaid's orders. What if it affected your agreement?

"Good."

Taehyung lifts the basket on top of his head, balancing it there as if it weighs nothing as he returns to the other side of the pool. You massage your sore calves, trying to ignore the hunger gnawing at your stomach. You're not sure how long the mermaid takes before he makes his way back to you - you suspect he always drags it out longer than necessary because he likes to see you squirm – but you feel ravenous by the time he places your dinner in front of you. Your food is always the same; fresh fish cut into thin slices along with blue, plump berries. While it never looks like much, it always fills you up until you think you might burst.

You try not to grimace as Taehyung's webbed hands wrap around your legs, dragging your feet down into the water of the pool. The first time it happened you had kicked the mermaid so hard it left him stunned. In retaliation for your fear, you weren't allowed to eat for two days.

You quickly learned your lesson that it was best to just let Taehyung do what he wants unless you were willing to face the consequences.

You focus on eating your berries as Taehyung drags his hands over the soles of your feet, the mermaid murmuring words you don't understand. You suppress your whimpers as the wounds on your feet begin to knit themselves back together, the skin scarring and smoothing over in just under a minute. You often find yourself wondering if this is Taehyung's strategy for an obedient servant; while he's the one who's breaking you down, he's also the only one who can patch you back up, ensuring that you always come running back.

Fear has kept you from talking much, worried that one wrong question might cause the mermaid to anger and sink his claws into you. But the past weeks on this island have left you feeling restless and starved for more than just food. At this point, you're simply desperate for some interaction. So, against your better judgement, you say, "How does that work?"

Taehyung pauses his movements, "How does what work, human?"

"The thing you're doing to my feet, the, uh, magic?"

"That is none of your concern," The gills on Taehyung's neck flutter as he huffs.

"Right," You murmur, not stupid enough to push when it's clear that he's unwilling to elaborate.

"Are you the only mermaid living on this island?"

You pull your feet out of the water the moment Taehyung is done healing them, scooting back just in case you have annoyed him with your questions. The mermaid regards you silently for a moment, his normally stoic expression wavering just so.

"I am. We are lonely creatures, much too possessive to be able to share the same home," Taehyung says. His nose wrinkles as he adds, "There are some.. exceptions, of course."

"Such as?" You wonder.

"Two of my brothers are a bit more attached than what is considered normal for us. I pity the creature they will choose as their mate."

Mate? It seems odd that such solitary creatures would have partners but maybe this is a good thing for you. If Taehyung starts looking for his mate, he likely won't have time to torment you and send you out on such pointless quests anymore.

"Do you see your brothers often?"

"No," Taehyung answers simply. "The moment we leave the pod, we are on our own. I only hear about my brothers through whispers of others, never directly from them. Such is the life at sea."

The mermaid quirks his lips, showing off the sharp points of his fangs as he notices the surprised look on your face. "You seem shocked that I am willingly giving out information, human."

"I–I suppose," You stammer, flabbergasted. Frankly, you didn't think you would ever get that much out of a simple question, that you would actually learn something about how mermaid society works.

Taehyung gently pushes himself away from the edge of the pool, floating on his back as he drifts closer to the middle of the water. The soft echo of his voice between the cave walls leaves your mind spinning as he confesses, "You are the first creature I have spoken to in years, guppy. Us monsters get lonesome too."

You stand with your hands on your hips just a little ways off the path your feet have forged, staring down the bush full of ripe, blue berries as you consider all of your options. You are well aware that you will get into trouble if you eat some, that you will be defying Taehyung's orders, but you are just so hungry.

It is only midday and you know that you have hours left to go until you have completed the task Taehyung has given you for the day. You need some fuel if you are going to be able to keep going until then. You're sick of feeling like your stomach is either trying to eat itself or almost bursting at the seams, sick of every little aspect of your life being controlled. You know that this is the sacrifice you have made to cure your mother – and it is worth it – but surely it can't hurt if you eat a few berries, just enough to quell the worst of your hunger?

Determined, you reach out to the bush and pluck a handful of plump, blue berries. Their hue is a little more purple than the ones Taehyung normally serves you but that likely just means that they're a little overripe, if anything. You pop them into your mouth, shrugging as the same, familiar mellow taste hits your tongue. You're tempted to grab a handful more to snack on but you decide you better not push your luck too much. First, you need to see if Taehyung notices the few you did eat.

You steady the basket on your back, beginning your trek back to the clearing a little way up the mountain. You've already been there once today but the overflowing basket you brought back apparently wasn't enough. No – the mermaid needed twice that.

You use the billowy sleeve of your dirtied blouse to wipe your face and neck as you near the base of the mountain, surprised by the amount of sweat that's pouring out of your skin. As you follow your own trail upwards, you find it hard to catch your breath despite your leisurely pace, the world slowly beginning to tilt on its axis the more you move forward.

The temperature on the island is mild today, certainly not hot enough to give you a heat stroke, but the symptoms seem to plague you all the same. You stumble to the ground as you reach a cluster of trees, seeking refuge in the shade they're offering. You leave your basket next to you, using the trunk of the tree for support as you try to catch your breath. Your mouth feels awfully numb, a bitter aftertaste blossoming on your tongue the more you try to swallow it away.

"Shit," You groan as your vision begins to blur. The moment you touch your face, you become aware of the weird itching that has begun spreading under your skin, like a thousand little pinpricks stabbing into it over and over. You frantically rub your face, closing your eyes as the movement makes your stomach turn dangerously.

"Sweetie–"

You lurch forward on your hands and knees as you hear your mother's voice calling out to you, the sound so close yet so far away at the same time. Your eyelids feel like swollen boulders as you force them open, your gaze unseeing as you attempt to make out the indistinct shapes of trees and bushes in the darkness.

That can't be right, wasn't the sun shining just before you closed your eyes?

You crawl forward, feeling along the ground as you attempt to make out what direction your mother's voice is coming from.

"Please help me–"

You veer a strong left, using a large rock for support to get up on your trembling, unsteady legs. You stumble forward into the night, swaying with each step as you hurry after your mother's shadow, her cries for help ringing in your ears. You never gain on her no matter how hard you push your body, no matter how loud you try to call out to her. There is hellfire raging inside of your body, making every step much harder than the last.

You slump over a fallen log for support, attempting to soothe the thunderous pounding in your chest before you continue to follow after your mother. The sound of snapping twigs catches your attention, your head turning in the direction it's coming from just in time to see something walk out of the trees. The creature walks unnaturally and jerky, its limbs twitching oddly with each step forward. The darkness shrouds everything but the creature's outline, how big and imposing it is as it hobbles forward, its claws glinting in the faint moonlight.

A demon.

You slide off the log, biting back a cry of terror as you begin to drag yourself in the opposite direction. Your legs are too weak to hold you up, your knees buckling whenever you attempt to put any weight on them. Sweat is streaming down your face as you dig your fingers into the earth, heaving yourself forward with all the energy you can muster. The sounds of the beast behind you grow louder and louder, and dread settles heavily in the pit of your stomach as you realize that you can't escape it. You flip yourself over with shaking arms, vision swimming as you stare up at the canopy of leaves above you. Tears flow down your cheeks as you remember your mother, still lost in these woods, soon to be alone with the same demon that's hunting you.

"Please," You whisper, tongue barely forming the words as you see the blurry figure of the beast above you.

You try to plead more, to ask for mercy as the demon's claws descend towards your face; but just as you open your mouth to do so, everything goes black.

There's a steady stream of grumbling close by as you regain consciousness. You can't pick out much over the sounds of rocks grinding together, but you do hear the words stupid and human repeated more than once. Your attempts to open your eyes are futile, a thick paste holding them closed. You begin to panic as you realize you can't even move your limbs to remove it, your fingers merely twitching by your side.

"Human, you are finally awake," The familiar sound of Taehyung's voice halts your racing heart and calms it from driving you into a frenzied panic.

A wooden bowl is pressed against your mouth, a cool liquid trickling down your throat as Taehyung carefully pulls on your chin to part your lips. The taste is awful, so bitter and rotten at the same time that you have half a mind to stop swallowing it and just let it flow down your chin to avoid drinking it.

"You have to drink it all," Taehyung says, as if reading your mind. "Unless you want to remain paralyzed from the toxins for the rest of your life, of course."

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, a gurgle that weirdly reminds you of a cat's purr, as he sees you consume every drop. He removes the bowl from your lips as it empties, but his cold finger remains on your chin, the tip of his claw tapping against your cheek. "There was a reason I told you not to eat anything I did not give you, human. Most of the plants here are poisonous in their pure form."

"You are lucky I found you when I did, your foolish hallucinations and running around exacerbated the effects. You would be dead if I had reached you a few breaths later."

Hallucinations?

You can't remember anything past eating the berries before your trek up the mountain. The little feeling you do have in your feet seems to prove Taehyung's statement true, though. They feel scratched up and achy, like you've been running on uneven ground for hours. The mermaid lets you stew in the realization that he saved your life as he moves around, all too aware that you can't respond with your swollen tongue.

You eventually drift off to sleep to the sounds of Taehyung grinding herbs together, the mermaid murmuring words of the old language as he works.

The next time you wake up, you can finally open your eyes. The thick paste that was keeping them shut is gone and as you take stock of the rest of your body, you notice that your hands and feet move according to your commands. Even your mouth feels back to normal, your tongue no longer heavy and thick behind your teeth.

You roll your head to the side, finding that Taehyung is still kneeling next to you, right where you surmised he was earlier. His icy, piercing gaze is still as unsettling as always, but it also feels oddly comforting as he looks you over from head to toe, making sure that you're alright.

"Can you move all of your limbs?" "Yes," You croak, wriggling your fingers and toes to confirm that you can.

"Do you still feel like the fires of hell are inside of you?" Taehyung asks as he places his hand on your bare stomach, your muscles jerking at the feel of the cool and slightly sticky texture of his skin against yours.

"No," You murmur, "It's all gone."

Even if you do not remember anything of your hallucinations, you do recall the awful burning sensation that was all under your skin, scorching your flesh from the inside as the poison ate away at you.

"Good," Taehyung removes his hand to push himself to his feet, his movements just as unnatural as that time in his shop.

Without the cloak covering him up you're able to see just why he moves the way he does – the bones in his legs are twisted, jutting out in odd directions. You wonder if it's because Taehyung is half fish, that perhaps his anatomy does not line up correctly whenever he uses magic to transform his tail into legs. You know better than to ask though, no good will come out of antagonizing Taehyung with silly questions when he just nursed you back to health.

It's odd to think about, but it is true. Despite making your life a living nightmare for the past month, he still saved your life. Whether it's out of the good of his heart (you doubt it) or him not wanting to find a new servant, you'd rather not know. You're not sure which truth would be worse.

"What was the paste for?" You ask instead. "To make sure you did not start bleeding out of your eyes," Taehyung replies simply.

"Oh," You gulp.

Eager to steer the conversation over to something else, to make you forget just how bad this whole situation could have turned out, you pivot to another question that has been lingering in the back of your mind.

"Why–" You clear your throat, "Why did you pick me? I can't be the only human desperate enough to seek you out for a deal?"

"You would be surprised, human. Not many of your species are as, hm, selfless, as you."

The mermaid picks up a bowl you hadn't noticed before, the contents sloshing around as he hobbles back to where you're lying. You advert your eyes to the sky as Taehyung moves closer, finding it difficult to watch his stilted movements without it triggering something primal in your head, something that just wants to flee from the unnatural sight before your eyes.

"Drink this."

You glance back at Taehyung as he presents you with the bowl, once again kneeling by your side. Your arms shake as you lift it to your mouth, your head as heavy as the mountain you're in the shade of as you strain to lift your neck. The taste is still as awful as the first time Taehyung made you drink it but you diligently swallow down every drop, confident that something in it must be aiding your recovery since you already feel so much better.

"I did not always have magic," Taehyung explains as he takes the empty bowl back. "I made a deal with a sea witch. I was too young to know what I was asking for, what the witch was asking of me in return, and yet I accepted it without question."

"Mermaids have long lifespans, we live for twice as many moons as you humans do. I did not think it would matter much if I lost a few turns of the seasons, but the witch wanted so much more than that. It feeds of my life force, my very essence. I am a child of the sea, made to swim and hunt in it for centuries, and yet it tells me that half of it is already gone - eaten by the witch in an attempt to prolong its own existence."

You recoil as Taehyung lets out a small hiss, revealing his fangs as he thinks back on his mistake. He gives you a sour look as he notices your poorly concealed fear, as if you should already be over that by now.

"D-did you try to break it?" You ask, voice trembling.

"Of course," The mermaid rolls his eyes. "I did not just ask, I begged–" He heaves a deep breath, gaze blazing with anger at what you can only assume is his indignance of having to sink so low, to subject himself to something he considers to be beneath a creature like him.

"It did not yield to my pleas. The witch told me that it was only a creature with a will of steel, a heart of gold, and a selfless mind that could break my deal – my curse. Another mermaid would never possess such qualities and neither would other sea creatures. It only left humans."

Taehyung's deep baritone voice seems to go even lower as he stares you down and says, "I have visited countless human settlements before yours, seeking a human that would fit the witch's description. Not a single human ever entered my shop before you."

You shudder as the mermaid uses his claw to push a lock of hair away from your face. "What does that mean? You tricked me?"

"Perhaps," Taehyung hums, grinning in a way that shows off all of the horrible teeth in his mouth. "Or perhaps we simply took use of each other. You need me to keep your mother healthy, as I need you to break my curse. Your determination to save your mother even when you were at death's door showed me that you are precisely what I have been looking for – that you are the creature that the witch spoke of."

Taehyung cradles your face in his cold palm, his eyes shining with a different hunger than before, "Well done. You have passed my test, guppy."

You swear under your breath as you dump your basket into the soft sand, the grains still warm between your toes from the setting sun. With all the berries and herbs you have been picking lately, you forgot just how heavy firewood could be. You grumble as you pull the crudely chopped branches out on the sand, stacking them until they form a small bonfire.

The fire catches easily this time, roaring to life with the help of some big half-dried leaves. You still remember your first night on the island vividly, just how cold and scared of the unknown you were as you curled up to sleep near the flames. It never crossed your mind that you would still be here, months later, sitting in the same place and repeating the same motions. Not even in your worst nightmare would you ever dream that this would have become your life – your new normal.

You pat your growling stomach, staring out at the quiet sea as you wait for your dinner to show up. The setting sun has barely moved in the sky before Taehyung breaches the surface, throwing two fat and heavy fish up on the shore. You ignore the grisly sight of their missing heads, the identical teeth marks along their necks making it quite clear who the culprit is. Using two sticks, you skewer the fish, leaving it to roast over the flames.

Taehyung has pulled himself up beside the fire by the time you're done preparing your food. You made the bonfire near the water on purpose, just close enough that the waves lap at your toes whenever the current grows stronger. The proximity lets Taehyung leave most of his heavy tail in the sea, the dancing flames reflecting off his white scales.

"Is this another one of your human inventions?" The mermaid shoots the roasting fish a weary look, his lip curling with distaste as he notices how the scales burn and blacken.

"I suppose so," You shrug, turning the branches so that the fish cooks evenly. "We have always relied on fire for food and warmth. Surely you must have seen humans use it before?"

"You seem to forget, guppy, that no human has ever approached me before you did. I did not waste my time watching them, not when one would eventually find its way to me."

Taehyung experimentally reaches out a claw towards the bonfire, holding it close until the very tip begins to glow red. You let out a strangled sound as a thin line of smoke begins to rise from his claw and grab his wrist to pull him back, away from the flames. Taehyung's finger sizzles as you shove it into the damp sand near his torso, your eyes wide as you look at him in disbelief.

"Are you trying to hurt yourself?!"

"Peculiar," Taehyung murmurs as he lifts his finger, staring at the burned spot at the edge of his otherwise pure, white claw. "I could not feel it."

"Oh by the deities," You groan. "Perhaps your claws are too thick to allow you to feel pain but you can still burn. Be watchful of the fire."

Taehyung's bright cold eyes snap to your face immediately, "Are you showing concern for me, human?"

"No," You hastily reply. You can see the flash of Taehyung's teeth out of the corner of your eye as he grins, clearly not believing you as you busy yourself with the fish.

You can't pinpoint when the shift between you and Taehyung happened, exactly. Perhaps it was after he saved your life, or maybe it's simply a silent understanding that you both have something to lose if you don't cooperate. More likely though, you think it's just loneliness. The only creature you can talk to out here is Taehyung and the same goes for him. The days and nights get awfully long when you have nothing but your own voice to listen to.

Taehyung has seemingly realized that too, and in turn, he has grown... kinder. He still makes you gather things around the island every day and doesn't let you eat until your tasks are completed, but they have grown easier than before – and have become quicker to complete. There is still a bone-deep uneasiness that flares up whenever you're around him, a survival instinct that never dares to go dormant, but the visceral fear you used to feel as Taehyung showed his fangs or flexed his claws has dulled down enough to be manageable. At least, that's what you like to fool yourself into believing.

You move the now cooked fish away from the flames, giving it some time to cool down before you dig in. You rest your head on your knees, looking at how Taehyung's tail leisurely moves back and forth with the current. Glancing past it, you can't see anything but open water, Pearl Bay is too far away to be visible in the distance.

Hesitating, you trace out indistinct shapes in the sand as you carefully ask, "Do you think your magic would still work if you left the island and I followed you? Perhaps it's the proximity to you and not the island that counts? We could try–"

"No."

The silent anger in Taehyung's voice makes a chill rush down your spine. As you dare to turn your head to look at him, you find that his features are set in stone, hard, as he glowers at you.

"But–"

Your next words are replaced by a cry as Taehyung suddenly grabs your wrist and yanks you forward. You fall to your knees, your face oh so close to the mermaid's exposed fangs as he snarls, "You cannot leave this island. Ever. Do you understand?"

The fear racing through your body renders you speechless, your mind much too occupied by the flecks of dried blood on Taehyung's sharp teeth to formulate an answer.

"I said–" The claws around your wrist begin to hurt as they dig into your skin, drawing blood, as Taehyung leans in closer, "Do you understand, human?"

"Y-yes," You stammer, "I'm sorry, I understand."

"Very well," The mermaid releases you the moment you utter your compliance. He makes sure you watch as he lifts his hand to his mouth, licking your blood of his claws with a tongue that seems abnormally long. "Do not ask foolish questions again."

You can only nod in return, shocked by the display. His gaze flickers to the forgotten fish by the fire. "Eat your food."

You know a command when you hear one and you're not dumb enough to disobey Taehyung when he wants something. You fumble for the closest stick, heart pounding, as you grab one of the fish. You bring it to your mouth without much thought, biting into it before you can displease him further.

You yelp as the still fiery hot scales burn your lip, your eyes watering as you reach up to touch the wounded skin. You can tell it's going to blister and it's going to hurt for days, if not weeks, until it heals. Still, you chew and swallow the burning piece in your mouth, wincing as it moves down your throat.

Taehyung makes a clicking sound that resembles a tsk, turning your head back to face him once again. He stares at the burn on your lip, cocking his head as he assesses it.

"Be watchful of the fire," He echoes, half-mocking.

You hold your breath as he mirrors the same position as only moments before, his breaths almost mingling with yours. As Taehyung closes his eyes and whispers a few words of old under his breath, you're struck with a reminder of how handsome he is. You usually can't look past his fangs or piercing eyes, but like this, he simply looks like a beautiful, normal man. Someone you no doubt would have been drooling over if he had lived in your town.

Taehyung's cutting gaze demands your attention the moment he opens his eyes. You lose the ability to blink as you hold his gaze, heart stuttering with something other than fear as he says, "You are no use to me broken, guppy. I will continue to mend you and keep you whole. I can promise you that much."

You freeze up as Taehyung's cold lips press against yours, the kiss firm and unyielding as he pulls your bottom lip between his own. You make a noise in the back of your throat as Taehyung's tongue darts out to swipe across your burn, the sting instantly melting away. Before your body can make up its mind on whether it wants to push the mermaid away or pull him closer, Taehyung inches back, disconnecting his mouth from yours.

It takes you a moment too long to realize that Taehyung just used magic to heal your burn, the skin unblemished and smooth. You touch your lip, swallowing thickly as it tingles from Taehyung's kiss. You're not quite sure if the relief you feel is because your wound is gone or because you finally had the barest taste of intimacy after so long. You think it's for the best if you don't look too deep into yourself for that answer.

Taehyung seems pleased with himself as he watches your reaction. The mermaid's smirk spells trouble, the flames of the bonfire reflected in his eyes as he glances at your mouth.

"Interesting," He says, licking his lips, "Very peculiar, indeed."

You waddle out into the ocean, sinking slightly into the soft sand beneath with every step. As the water reaches your knees, you feel the weight of chains wrap around your wrists and ankles, slowing you down. The pressure around your limbs grows tighter the more you dare to move forward.

You stop when the water laps just below your belly button, glancing down at your wrists as if that would expose the invisible restraints that are hurting you. 137 steps. You have been pushing yourself one step forward every day, attempting to figure out just how far Taehyung's spell reaches, and you think you've finally found it.

The magic that is weighing you down is pulsating, squeezing and constricting your limbs in a way you know would bruise horribly if you could see them. It feels like a breaking point, like if you just push forward a little more, the distance will snap the chains right off. This must be the border you can't move past without risking breaking the spell and dooming your mother.

You retreat a few steps back, not willing to take any chances. The pressure from the chains lessens just a tad, as if urging you to go back to shore and rid yourself of the pain. You stay in place though, staring longingly at the faint, small outline of Pearl Bay shimmering in the distance. You've found that you can only see it on particularly nice days, when the sun is beating down and there's not a single cloud in the sky.

You have no idea how long it's been since you made your journey from Pearl Bay to here. The weather doesn't change much and the seasons certainly don't. Days bleed into nights and into days again, and you lost count many full moons ago of when you arrived at the island.

Sighing, you adjust the loose shirt hanging off your shoulders.

While you have never left the island since that day you stepped ashore, you know that Taehyung has. The moment the clothes on your back became too tattered, you found a rucksack filled with drenched clothing, all different styles and sizes. The mermaid never confessed to bringing them but you know there is no other explanation for how they just 'suddenly' turned up on the beach. It's all very strange. Taehyung has been meeting your every need lately, almost predicting them before they even arise. He has been acting a lot more than attentive than you're used to and that paired with his increased affection, you're not sure what to make of it.

As if your thoughts were a beacon, you hear a soft splash behind you. Strong arms wrap around your waist, pushing you further into the sand below as you bear the added weight of a mermaid hanging off your back.

"What are you doing, guppy?"

You shiver as Taehyung's cold cheek rests against your bare shoulder, water dripping steadily down your back from Taehyung's drenched hair.

"Not much," You say, turning your gaze to the spotless sky, "Just thinking." "Very well."

Considering how quickly Taehyung accepts your vague explanation, you can tell the mermaid has something else in mind – something he deems more important to do.

Barely a second passes before you feel the touch of his lips against your shoulder, your breath hitching as he leaves a trail of kisses up your throat. You lean your head to to side, allowing him easier access to your skin.

After that night Taehyung healed your burn, you don't think there has been a single day that has passed without the mermaid initiating some kind of physical intimacy with you.

The kiss seemed to awaken something in Taehyung; a feeling he only seems to crave more and more with each passing day.

To say that you mind it would be a lie.

Perhaps it's a sign that you're slowly losing your mind – but being held and kissed after so long feels nice. You know it's crazy to enjoy it with a creature like him, but what other option do you have? He's the only semi-human being around here and, well, his handsome face and toned muscles do make it quite enjoyable. There are still parts of you that find Taehyung's touch off, that makes alarm bells ring whenever you're held a little too tightly, but you've found that the more you ignore them, the less they bother you.

You let out a soft moan as one of Taehyung's longest fangs scrape across your skin, the sting immediately soothed by his tongue. He has taken it upon himself to experiment; to try out different methods in order to drag as many of those delicious sounds of you as possible.

You can feel your control slipping as one of his hands slips under your shirt, moving up, up, up.

Hastily grabbing it, you pause his movements just under the swell of your breasts. The intimacy is nice but you don't think you're ready for this yet. You're worried you might never want to leave if you let yourself sink that far into depravity.

"Taehyung," You murmur, catching the mermaid's attention. He nudges the back of your neck with his nose in response, breathing in the fresh scent of herbs and salt that always clings to your hair.

"What do I need to do to break your deal with the witch?"

Taehyung's grip tightens, the points of his claws digging into your skin possessively. "Why do you continue to ask me this, human? I have already told you that I do not know."

Because this is the only thing you know will distract him enough to forget about touching you more.

"Did the witch ever tell you when we would have to seek it out?"

There's a reluctant pause, a low series of perturbed clicks and grinding teeth before Taehyung tightly responds, "No. The sea will call for us when the time is right."

Your questions have their intended effect though, Taehyung's hands slipping away from your body as he detaches himself from your back. You hear him fumble with something behind your back, seemingly just as keen to distract you from your questions as you were to distract him from taking things further.

"I have something for you, guppy."

A string gets passed over your head, a necklace of sorts falling into place just below your collarbone. You pick up the heavy pendant attached to it, eyes widening as you recognize what it is - the ivory fang you had returned back to Taehyung. It glistens under the sunlight, its surface smooth and even.

"What is this?" You murmur as Taehyung peers over your shoulder, his chest flush to your back.

"It is mine," He reveals. "I lost it in my first battle. The shark had it coming for encroaching on my territory, but it did put up a decent fight, I shall give it that."

"That's, um– impressive?" You're not sure what the right thing to say is, you have never had to fight a shark before after all, but the mermaid seems pleased with it nonetheless, nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck.

"Why are you giving it to me, though? What... what does it mean?"

"It means that you are mine, my little guppy," Taehyung purrs. "I have decided to bestow you the honor of being my mate."

Mate? That can't be, that's.. that's not possible.

"Tae–"

The mermaid wraps you back up into his arms before you can protest, spinning you around so that you are face to face with the creature that has decided you are his to keep. His icy gaze is narrowed, his handsome features set with determination.

"Even if the sea witch lifts my curse, you will still be mine," Taehyung declares as he pulls you tight against his chest. "Your mother will perish if you leave me and so there is nothing back there for you now."

He leans down, his cold lips moving like gentle waves against your ear as he says, "You belong here, with me – forever."

a/n: i really hope you enjoyed the final chapter of TIF! it was nice to once again revisit the tcs-universe and it was fun to write a "softer" mermaid yandere story 🤧 i would love to hear what you think about the chapter – comments and reblogs make my day!! 🥺💖

if you enjoyed the story and would like to support me, you can do so here! 💖

[notedchampagne]

What makes a tlt au work for you? Do u have any favourites out there/that you’ve thought of?

its hard because it can go down to the writing! i have a huge bias for things that put focus on the characters acting awful and driving the story forward- if a story has a plot thats great, but its the difference between "gideon and harrow keep meeting up at parties and fall a little bit in love every time" and "gideons angry she lost her childhood to the cult so she attends a party with the tridentarii to shotgun adolescent experiences, and harrowhark, frustrated that gideon is pulling on her metaphorical leash, follows to stalk her". the former retains a 5+1 fic format and is more bite-size, while the latter puts more focus into their growth as characters. im not great at articulating what i like specifically, but ill put my favorite fics below:

what if nona was dogs tugs at my heart: its post-canon, slice-of-life, and has a unique concept (said in the title). i judged a book by its cover because i thought the premise seemed too silly at first but ive been made a fool and its pet clown. it feels so true to nona the way its about all the things nona loves and how she gets to explore the world through new eyes. i love the way it explores characters softening up and getting hurt through a third person pov

we have always lived in the apartment by @thatneoncrisis i keep saying this but for the love of GOD guys this au is so good it makes me cry and feel such a deep catharsis from it. it takes gideon and harrow and the ninth as a cult and explores their struggle to adapt to a modern society when noone ever gets a break (WOW ITS JUST LIKE IN REAL L-). quinn writes the sides of griddlehark i think go overlooked in fanfic often: their codependency, their tendency to lash out when theyre defensive, their mutual paranoia and different coping mechanisms, harrows psychosis and gideons bitterness, their relationships to each other as being the only other person who really understands what the other suffered through. god. i feel lightheaded.

"but SAM, i dont like angst but i want to see this writing!" read gap between a tragedy and a comedy

"SAM, i also like when gideon and harrow are horrible because theyre maladjusted teenagers! but i want more antics where the characters drive things forward over angst!" read whats eating gideon nav

you just aint receiving is one of my FAVORITE modern aus of all time (and i heavily recommend the authors other fics as well!) if you really want to see how much i love this fic the fact that my comments take up the entire phone screen probably says a lot. its hard to put it concisely: it keeps harrows air of misanthropy and cruelty but redefines it as the result of her upbringing and personal struggle to live in a university while dealing with a backpack of mental illness and frustration. it changes gideons personality as the daughter of john gaius in a way that makes sense having her grow up with johns middling parenting skills and getting everything she ever wanted (connecting it back to kirionas personality in ntn!). it brings in side characters (specially palamedes. my beautiful boy palamedes) in ways that compliment harrow and gideon but not so obviously that they only exist to be supports. they have their own lives and ideals. its a modern au that brings in the boiling politics of johns cult uprising once again in a really novel way

semi charmed kinda life by @griddlebait. jesuchristo and all his middle names this fic is GREAT for you if you want a slice of life, coming of age type modern au that explores what its like for gideon and harrow if they actually got the space to see who theyd become outside of the stifling fate tlt has for them. as far as modern aus go im usually very hesitant to read them because im afraid modernizing the characters takes features away from their core but i really love and respect the way the author treats the 69ers with care and draws distinct lines that shows me how their grow and change while keeping a line to the anchor. also they write HIDEOUS (complimentary) PINING. DISGUSTING. some of these chapters were so chock full of dyke drama that they made me nauseous and whimsical. i think once a friend said this fic felt like if gh could be reincarnated and i like that descriptor a lot

til the cows come home is another postcanon fic that made me feel sick and crybabyish about it- i would definitely recommend it if you want to explore a happier ending with griddlehark! with this and what if nona was dogs the thing i like most about them is that they mix up vulnerability with pain and fear, so it feels more lifelike that way if that makes sense. i lost my taste in fluff fics over time but when its interspersed with struggle and characters causing problems because they cant cope with themselves it feels much more earnest and raw

this became very long. im not sorry

[awakenedsalamander]

So I’ve been wanting to write about this for a long time (my friends can probably attest to the fact I will talk about it unprompted) but I can’t find it way to do so concisely. Here’s my best try.

Is Mage: The Ascension (in its presentation of the Technocracy in specific) anti-science?

I don’t think so, not anymore. But I want to explain why. By the way, I have to imagine that this won’t be all that accessible if you don’t have much knowledge of Mage, but you’re free to stick around if you want to.

So, here’s the thing— the Technocratic Union is pretty much a stand-in for the advancement of the scientific method, “the Enlightenment,” all that. The whole point in the first edition of Ascension is that the Union is science, the science that dispelled notions of magic, and that this is a Bad Thing. They are oppressive, heartless, and cold. The villains, plain and simple.

In later editions, this gets softened, partly due to the notion of “Science is a conspiracy the elite uses to rule the world and keep you down” becoming less fun and more toxic as it gained more sincere believers, and partly because fans really liked the Technocracy.

I think the common read is that Ascension then took the direction of the Technocracy being anti-villains— the Union has noble goals, and many of its members are sincerely brave and compassionate, but ultimately it is too extreme, too callous. It has to be stopped.

This is, to be fair, an improvement over “science is evil,” but “science is too dangerous,” is still not great. And for a long time, this was my view on Mage: The Ascension. Fun ideas, maybe, but the core conflict of the game was just too reckless a portrayal of what seemed to me like a mirror of real-world conspiracist ideology.

And to some extent, I still think that. Especially in the early editions, this is a very fair critique. That said, the game still spoke to me as I looked into it, and for the longest time I wasn’t quite sure why. A piece of it was my own opening up to the notion of our subjective viewpoints affecting our reality— something that deserves its own rambling essay— but a related part of it was me realizing that there was something about the Technocracy that rung true to me, despite my misgivings. And I think I figured it out.

See, the Technocracy isn’t a stand-in for the scientific method, but for scientism.

If you’ve not heard the term, “scientism” is a controversial (we’ll get into why a bit later) pejorative term for the belief/perspective that science, as a body, composes essentially all useful and/or reliable knowledge about the world.

Notably, those who critique scientism rarely hold the view that scientific knowledge is bad or even inaccurate, just that it is an incomplete model of reality. This is not an anti-science position, but a skepticism towards the trust people place in its ability to solve every mystery. Vaccines, for example, are great! No one can reasonably dispute the benefits and efficacy of vaccination. When it comes to medicine, the scientific method has done incalculable good— the lives saved by vaccination alone are countless.

To be against scientism, then, is not to argue that medical science is a failure, or overrated— but to point out that there is more to life than being healthy. Everyone should be glad we have learned so much about treating illness and alleviating suffering. But what of having a sense of purpose? What about love and compassion and justice? What about satisfaction, having gone through a life worth living?

Again, none of that is to say that science or the scientific community is the problem. But if you take the Technocracy as an example of scientism gone to an extreme, one in which things like kindness and equity must be left behind in favor of only the virtue of material knowledge, I think Mage: The Ascension starts to really work.

(I originally intended to write a MUCH longer piece including references to the military-industrial complex, the rise of automation and AI, as well as the increasingly algorithmic nature of culture but this is so long already. And yet I worry I said essentially nothing. C’est la vie.)

[dizzybizz]

when the brainrot hits you like a truck

here are some cooking and cooking related headcanons!!

• kazuki is a very good teacher, hes generally very patient and attentive, he tends to bicker with rei a lot, he struggles to formulate himself concisely sometimes but hes doing great

• miri joins in anytime they cook, they let her wash the vegetables or mix ingredients together, which she obviously has little songs for

• rei is trying his darndest damn it!!

• he finds it really hard asking about stuff and especially for help but hes trying and i love him 😢😢😢

• rei sucks at cracking eggs, miri laughs endlessly, kazuki is dying in the background,,, he keeps explaining how to do it correctly but it never seems to get through to rei

• its not even funny at this point, either the egg is smashed before hes even tapped it to the counter or he ends up using too much force when tapping it against the counter or he successfully cracks the egg but shell ends up going in alongside it-

• he is also stupidly fixated on being able to crack eggs single-handedly (he says its bc its efficient and its always good to have a hand free, which is true, but really he just thinks its badass) and its the bane of kazukis existence, he comes home one day to find both rei and miri (bc miri would also think thats the coolest thing ever and want in) in the kitchen with an almost empty egg carton and egg and shell covered counters, they make eye contact and kazuki immediately turns around and leaves to buy more eggs without so much as a word

• kazuki abandons using omelets as an easy entry-level dish after that

• rei is bad at seasoning savory dishes, hes bad at eyeballing the appropriate amount, kazuki does his best at helping or getting him to use measurements but rei is stubborn, he obviously doesnt want more to have more dishes that absolutely necessary so he needs to work on his eyeballing skill

• during early sessions kazuki would always supervise closely and sorta just constantly stare like a hawk over reis shoulder, he learned quickly not to do that again 💀💀💀

• rei doesnt really grow to like vegetables but kazuki learns ways to work around that by discretely incorporating them in dishes

• rei does like cucumber tho, subtle and very crunchy, put some salt on that sucker and youve got an easy snack (that he shares with miri), you dont even have chop it in order to enjoy it which is appreciated

• kazuki throws a bunch of cookbooks at rei and urges him to look through them and see if anyhting piques his interest, rei flips through them before going to sleep which can bite him in the ass when he has to go to sleep hungry as fuck 💀💀

• hes woken up multiple times with a cookbook in the tub with him

• rei enjoys baking a lot, his and miris sweet tooths never go unsatisfied

• he doesnt bake frequently per se, but he does so in bulk, and freezes cookie dough and such

• kazuki, early on, suggested cooking games in order to maybe get rei a bit familiarized with terms and techniques but he grew to regret it, a gaming night where everyone is gathered in the living room and kazuki loses his mind at the logic in the games, he doesnt stop commentating

• they end up getting into cooperate cooking games like overcooked, plates up and one-armed cook tho and its all good, if they play with miri in the vicinity they have to bite their tongues in order to not swear

• rei struggles grasping his mind around meat, theres so many kinds and cuts and doneness levels and ways of preparation and spice blends- its all a lot

• rei and miri each get their own aprons to match with kazukis 🥺🥺🥺

• miri gets a little yellow one with a monkey or like a sky blue or pink one with a white rabbit, fuck it why not both

• rei has an orange one with a black cat

• or if we wanna stick to an ocean theme, miri would have a goldfish or jellyfish and rei would have an octopus

• rei is a bit of a mess in the kitchen but we love him anyway, i just feel like hed be the type to go "ill clean it all at the end"

• he unceremoniously throws dirtied utensils and pots in the sink to be delt with later

• doesnt even use waiting times to clean or clear his space a little, kazuki is horrified

• rei finds doing the dishes a bit tedious at times but he enjoys the process and seeing the fruits of his labor in the form of sparkling clean dishes

• the repetitive motions are very soothing

• he doesnt like getting wet tho and wears gloves

• rei listens to music when cooking- maybe some instrumental tracks, nothing too distracting

• miri observes whenever either of them are cooking, she stands on a little stool in order to see the counters properly, she is really curious and inquisitive

• early on in reis cooking journey she would give him pointers and reminders she remembered kazuki telling them

• rei isnt an adventurous eater or cook, he prefers things that are simple and quick to prepare

• wait times for rei are long and arduous so he sneaks off to play some video games in the living room, the first few times he did this were disastrous and hes learnt to turn down the volume by a bit and reminding himself that he is in fact in the middle of cooking something

• the family makes lots of homemade popsicles during summer

• when kazuki and rei first try cooking together they mess up a lot but eventually they get a system going where each of them has their own tasks. they make a good team in the kitchen for the most part

• cooking very much becomes a family activity for them after a while

[madame-ellunas-moonlit-readings]

May 8 - Foul Bauble Of Man's Vanity

Re Dracula/Dracula Daily

So, I got distracted and now I'm behind by about a week. So be it, I'll catch up. Starting with this one.

Serious props to the voice actors here. Jonathon's stressed venting over being trapped and in danger, and Dracula's fervent rant over his people's history were excellent. I was drawn right in. They really set the tension and the tone. There were no skipped bits this round, so just a reaction to the podcast today. And a little definitions bit at the bottom for the words I had to google.

Jonathon has stopped turning his back on his ill feelings and the numerous red flags, grateful even for his older descriptive journal entries to refer upon and determined to keep clear record onwards. I guess not seeing someone in the mirror and getting choked out would be too much for anyone to hide from. That and his destructive tendencies.

I like how he takes the time to feel gratitude for the rosary and the woman who gifted it, wondering on the manner in which it works. Also the little tangent, 'now I can't shave! how annoying!'. Coping skills 101.

He's not just kept older fears to heart but has started actively looking into things as well. Thanks to that he knows that there are no servants, only himself and Dracula, that the man hasn't consumed anything and that there's no way out. All the doors are locked and his window just leads to a precipice ending in rivers, chasms and forests, all easily seen from the castle. It's no wonder the poor man ran about the place in a panic.

Jonathon is taking care with his interactions with Count Dracula too, planning ahead, how to react, how to behave, what to, what not say. He's even gone with so bold a move as to dig out personal information from the man himself. And wasn't that interesting.

Count Dracula fell for it, hook line and sinker. He fell into a fervent rant over the histories, follies and glories of his blood, his people, his land. He ranted on wars and battles, dismissed more pacifist and communal behaviours, which showed a lot into his personality, his priorities and his attitude towards others. He even clued Jonathon in on who he is was, when he came from, his role in the past, when he went on about his achievement against the Turks.

Was it not this Dracula, indeed, who inspired that other of his race who in a later age again and again brought his forces over the great river into Turkey-land; who, when he was beaten back, came again, and again, and again, though he had to come alone from the bloody field where his troops were being slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could ultimately triumph! They said that he thought only of himself. Bah! what good are peasants without a leader?

Overall, it was a stellar success on Jonathon's part. It could even make for a historical record there. What a thing for a historian to get their hands on.

Jonathon has a point though. This, like with the other nights, didn't end til morn. He compared it the beginning of the "Arabian Nights" or the ghost of Hamlet's father, ending at cockcrow. Not very comforting comparisons.

It was an interesting chapter. Very informative. Love the building stress, the increasing urgency and the worldbuilding.

My little definitions page, in the order they came up. Almost all are directly copy pasted, with some hyperlinks for clarification sake.

Diffuse: lacking clarity or conciseness, verbose, wordy, longwinded

Prosaic: without interest, imagination, and excitement, prose lacking poetic terms and verbosity

Demoniac: possessed or influenced by a demon

Boyar: a high ranking member of Russian aristocracy, serving under the prince

Szekelys: Székely people are ancient Hungarians, living in Transylvania in Székelyföld (Szeklerland), situated in Romania

Ugric: Ugrians or Ugors were the ancestors of the Hungarians of Central Europe, and the Khanty and Mansi people of the Khanty-Mansi Autonomous Okrug of Russia.

Scythia: or Scythica was the region of Eastern Europe corresponding to the Pontic steppe. The Scythians were an ancient Eastern Iranian equestrian nomadic people.

Attila: Attila the Hun was the leader of the Hunnic Empire from 434 to 453. Attila the Hun is used as a figure for an extremely vicious fighter or cruel person, especially in political contexts.

Magyar: The Magyars were horsemen from the Pontic-Caspian steppe. Their people make up the majority of the Hungarians.

Lombard: a Germanic people who conquered most of the Italian Peninsula from 568 to 774. They originated from Scandinavia.

Avar: a nomadic equestrian people from central Asia who built up an empire in the area between the Adriatic and the Baltic seas from the 6th century.

Bulgar: The Bulgars were Turkic semi-nomadic warrior tribes that flourished in the Pontic–Caspian steppe and the Volga region during the 7th century.

Arpad: Árpád was the head of the confederation of the Magyar tribes at the turn of the 9th and 10th centuries. He was a ruler of what we now call Hungary.

Honfoglalas: the Hungarian conquest of the Carpathian Basin

Cassova: or Kosovo. Kosovo, officially the Republic of Kosovo is a landlocked partially recognised state in Southeast Europe, lying in the centre of the Balkans.

Wallach: the people of Wallachia, now Romania

Voivode: a local ruler, governor or military commander, especially the semi-independent rulers of Transylvania, Wallachia, or Moldova before c1700.

Mohács: is a town in Baranya County, Hungary, on the right bank of the Danube. The Battle of Mohács was fought on 29 August 1526 near Mohács.

Hapsburgs: aka the House of Austria. One of the most prominent and important dynasties in European history.

Romanoffs: or the Romanovs. The Russian imperial family in control from 1613 to 1917. Famous for the murder of the Romanov family wherein Princess Anastasia went missing, presumed dead.

[ravencromwell]

Interview With The Vampire Pilot Musings

This was a pilot so saturated with nuance I found myself wanting to note my thoughts, to fully track how they shifted across the season. Thought my odd journaling's might be of interest to others. Beneath a cut, because verbosity is my middle name :)

DANIEL. Crusty, exhausted, taking immense pride in his skill. God! I love you!

Especially because through how radically Daniel has reshaped himself, we see how emotionally static Louie still is, particularly around events ending his human life.

Daniel: goes from this high young man asking—at least as he sees it— all the wrong questions, not following up on contradictions, desperate more for the immortality of vampirism than a dedication to his craft into a man determined to tell a true tale, certain in his instincts and abilities even as death stalks him.

Louie: is still swearing up and down that no, no, I didn't want to pull a knife on my brother but you couldn't be seen as weak on Liberty Street.

Oh honey: in a colder light, you may have realized Paul was ill, but yeah, in that moment, the feral need to stop being judged by your nearest and dearest reigned supreme, and you absolutely *wanted* to cut him.

Failing to admit the nuances serves no one. Was Paul's death terrible? Unspeakably. Was Paul, illness or no, often viciously homophobic and undermining the very business that kept Louie's family in comfort while they looked away? Absolutely. And so ofc Louie could love and hate him simultaneously. But even a century later, those contradictions terrify him and it's so _sad.

Look, there are two kinds of good vampire tales: one involves a person desperate to be moral because that morality brings them genuine comfort, pulled in to depravity and floundering to keep hold of the truest essence of themselves.

The other: a person who feels desperately constrained to morality—or at least its imitation—because the society will flay them alive for deviation, finally given permission to be feral and free.

And as much as Louie wants! so bad to think he's in story one, he's in story two. And Lestat sees it _instantly. Look at how surprised and impressed he is when Louie pulls out the second wad of cash to bid for Lily, and he has to pull out a third and the ring.

(Also mad, let's be real, because he's already decided he wants Louis after the knife incident and Louis should be fixated on _him, not Lily. But mostly impressed.)

And the moments we see Louie unafraid to express himself, even as a black man—which he feels the constraints of _desperately—are with Lestat. In the ecstasy of their kisses or the rage of: "Don't do that shit. Not with my family."

He forces it back down, laughs and says when Paul's not picking at his plate he's picking a fight. But even this early, we see that Lestat lets Louie be _free. Louie says he was "a rougher thing then" to Daniel. But I wonder how much he's fleeing from the feral freedom Lestat offered, just as he fled after their first night?

And isn't it _fascinating, how we already see Louie influencing Lestat? "Not with my family" Louie snarls, and Lestat quiets, gentles: something wild stroked back to civility. And he's _sheepish: "I fear your family has an everlasting grudge against me"

For all everything above is true, this show never slips into the easy trope of Lestat as shining savior, never lets us forget how profoundly changed into monstrosity he has been by immortality.

I almost made that sentence more concise and said how *inhuman* Lestat is, but that's simply not right. All his emotions: empathy for Louie's struggles, jealousy over how Louie flees to Lily and the church, _so much _rage, are viscerally human.

They've just been made, for the most part, viciously selfish because how could they not be? When you live watching people flicker out like fireflies while you and your desires persist, it would be so hard to see them as equals instead of backdrops to your constant play.

(And that is one way in which, for all he is running from desires we're just like: embrace! you deserve it! Louie excels beyond Lestat. He has followed Daniel's career, seems legit pleased and proud of his accomplishments.

People, in all their frailty, still matter to Louie, and he wants to keep it that way.)

Whereas, with rare exception *coughLouie* Lestat doesn't give a fuck. And even with Louie, he wants to take away the good parts of humanity we see with Daniel: striving to leave the world better because you understand your own fragility etc.

And with people like Lily: well. She died two weeks before, and we know that she was gone when Louie woke up at Lestat's. Anyone else getting the heavy implication after she served her purpose in bringing them together, he took her down to the docks and killed her?

Before I finish my thought about Lily, I have to double back to servility in two moments. The card game when Lestat fumes over racism and literally externalizes Louie's worth by letting him win, and in the church where he urges him to take off the awful servility we've seen throughout the show, whether it's placating the white alderman in that terrible meek voice or begging his mother to understand it really was an accident with Paul.

Those moments? Fucking hot You could be all on board bandwagon Lestat.

 But there's Lily.

This astonishingly gentle woman: "I don't know what you're saying, but it's awful nice" to Lestat and: "It's fine, love," to Louie over kissing Lestat's hand etc. was just apawn to facilitate Lestat's seduction.

That all her hopes and dreams were snuffed out, more than likely, because Louis dared to get her off when his attention should've been for Lestat is appalling.

Especially in light of how her accepting "it's fine love" contrasts so starkly with the rest of the homophobia.

And we are forced to sit with the complexity of that awfulness juxtaposed with his clear _adoration of Louie: not merely as object, but as full person (see again the _card game holy shit)

That comfort with contradiction is so fucking _brave: absolutely my favorite show element.

That same ambiguity suffuses Paul's death, too. Louie says to Daniel that "a vampire was bored and my brother died" implying Lestat used his thought trick to force Paul over.

I'm surprisingly more inclined to believe Lestat's story that he longed for the flagstones.

Oh, I'm _certain he was meddling, but as we see with Louie: you can resist a vampire's thoughts. Look how often Lestat says "come to me" and Louie is just like nope, fuck you going to get drunk and find Lily thanks.

Paul is not absolved of culpability, even with Lestat, even with his illness.

And oh! oh there is something so sad in how the brothers run from their guilty pleasures: Louie from pulling the knife and his "vodka-soaked encounters", Paul with those awful disconsolate last words: "I ate too much checker cake" as though leaping were a penance for enjoying earthly pleasures.

Part of the reason I'm so glad they included Lestat's cruelty toward Lily—and I think the show understood this would be the case—is my ambivalence toward Paul's death.

Because for all I said there was an aching sadness in his cake line, and for all there was such a hopeful beauty in the wedding dancing, his relationship with Louie was going downhill fast.

The homophobia over dinner: unspeakably awful. The way he picked at Lestat's religiosity: cruel, man.

There was at least a reason for Lestat's meddling which those queer folk among us especially could find ourselves viscerally sympathizing with. So many of us have wanted to view religion as a site of healing, and then wondered why any God not utterly impotent lets us be persecuted in his name.

And while Lestat's persecution was for piety rather than homophobia, it rings such an answering cord we _understand why his rage lingered after Paul ripped open that wound—especially in light of Paul's prying around their relationship.

The part in death was not _excusable, but it was comprehensible and could have obscured Lestat's monstrosity somewhat.

But what happened with Lily, and then with father Mathias, leaves Lestat unequivocally as man capable of both great gentleness and out of proportion brutality.

"Lost in the throes of wonder" my GOD what a line to end on. The entire show's fearless sensuality—they're _flying! quite literally! during that first kiss—capped off by the church scene was a masterclass.

Lestat, burning a representation of his torment, and remaking it as a sight of queer desire, with the beauty of the kiss and all its jagged edges with the blood and flame? Literally consecrating their love amid the holiest element and the blood of Christ's avatars as a backward fuck you communion?

my scarred by religion queer soul soared.

Even as I sat in and appreciated the ambiguity of the decision to make Father Mathias warm and kind, the reminder that not all religion was cruel like Paul, and Lestat didn't need to go this far, caught between clapping and crying as I had been for an hour.

I'm sure the assistant will be important: he keeps being mentioned too much not to be, but right now, my focus is all Louie and Lestat all the time.

And that astonishingly beautiful: "I was seen." You cannot fully hate or condemn Lestat after that: not as a queer person especially, always craving reflection in someone else's gaze. You just. can't.

Also: best line of the show? "Why did you lie about leaving the opera early? You were nearly weeping when the curtain fell. Why hide that?" FUCK. Lestat glories in Louie's full, vivid self-expression. (Also, Lestat loves his Mum so much, even after these years—"she gave me every advantage as a young man" I'll die on this hill:  reveling in this man's ambiguity is the only thing allowing investment in this relationship and the entire production.

[can-of-w0rmz]

Silly rant about how much I hate the school system but it’s long and angry so

School is so fucking insufferable, you’ll try talk to a teacher getting paid to teach you for two seconds and to complain about the workload and explain your other subjects and they’ll patronise you to death treating you like an overwhelmed 5 year old. I shit you not, I genuinely just asked to talk to two of my teachers for five fucking minutes to ask about them cutting back a bit on mandatory revision so I could do it during study leave to make time for more important subjects, and explained as factually and concisely as possible, and got told to “calm down and breathe” like 500 times while I was fucking talking. One of them I shit you not tried to get me to do fucking breathing exercises with her and repeat back what I was going to do, what in the actual fuck, I was genuinely getting so pissed off and I’m still mad about it lmao, all I need is a “ok 👍 I trust you, I’ll cut back on the mandatory revision homework for you and you focus on your other subject that’re pressing right now”, not to get treated like a first year in special ed.

Teachers have always been like this fr and it’s genuinely been getting to me for fucking years. You’ll go to them about anything trying to have a really really normal conversation and they’ll treat you like you’re completely fucking inept. Throwback to the time my vice principal told me off for “talking back to her” by telling her that a girl getting sexually harassed being her fault made no sense, to the time she found out I was suicidal and fucking schizing (recently actually) and went “are we not having such a good day today? :(“ and also asked if harming myself made me feel good and then went “no, I didn’t think so :(“. Oh and for good measure, throwback to the time the girls in my year were told they couldn’t wear leggings in PE bc it “distracts the male staff” and the time they called all the girls (or afab people lmfao) into the hall to tell us we were “asking for it” bc of rolling up skirts and makeup and made everyone who had them take off makeup/nails and roll down skirts one by one. And that shits just commonplace in schools fr it fucking makes me want to kill myself tbh although I vastly prefer directly insulting a full room of 14 year olds calling them whores to treating mentally ill or VAGUELY stressed people like actual fucking children. Call me a schizo freak and get it over with fr. Genuinely fucking thought this shit would end by sixth form, apparently not! Yeah everyone else in the school looks at me like an adult, and you lot keep saying we’re “young adults” now, and oh yeah sure I can legally get married, have a job, generally am above the age of consent, I’m learning to drive, but oh no! Still have to get not just treated like a kid, but baby-ed. At this point I don’t even feel patronised, I feel fucking insulted.

A different time one of those teachers asked me if I was going out with my female friend while I was trying to express concern for them because they’d pretty much gone missing (it’s complicated), and when I said no they then asked me if I wanted to, which I’ve never fucking gotten over bc why the fuck would you ask me that, but that’s by the by

Can’t wait to leave the school system behind forever fr.

[stuckasmain]

But we sing it anyway

Moulin rouge is a story inspired by the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. You probably know this as ever since finding out about it from my playbill I haven’t shut up about that fact, well? Here’s a concise post. The story is inspired, not exact, however it’s a little bit funny… just how much it ties with Hadestown (a much more direct adaptation of the story).

Moulin rouge is also a timeloop story, while not as overt in its lyrics and presentation as Hadestown it makes no effort to hide this. At the very end of the pre show in fact! Christian comes to raise the sign sending the audience “back in time” alongside him to the prior year. In both cases the men- a more correct statements would be surviving lover- are what initiates the story beginning again. Both shows can be viewed in this way as a song of grief. Orpheus is apart of an old song that’s been replaying for longer than he may know and Christian is writing a love song, their love song, their story- as Satines dying request. He’s keeping her alive this way. They’re always together this way. Moulin rouge is a timeloop in a much more self inflicted way, Is she gone or will she live with every preformance? If he can even get it to be preformed. However unlike the movie we aren’t seeing Christian write the story- we are seeing him as a part of it, talking to us directly. Don’t believe me on the timeloop/living memory? Just watch how he raises the sign- the heavy sigh the love in which he has the whole first act- the excitement and joy like this time- this time is different. Sort of like someone else we know…

Optimistic and naïve, though deeply sad boy with a Godly musical ability X Jaded woman scored one to many times by the harsh realities of life

Both make the other better, they contrast each other, change each other, become each other in some sense or another. In both cases the optimism and lust for “happy endings” comes far too late for the woman and the man has learned how the world is at the cost of the love of his life.

However, in the case of Moulin rouge we do get a glimpse of a much more complicated relationship. While all of the mentioned does happen we also see jealousy, frustration, miscommunication. A more full developed relationship than a metaphorical one (not saying Orpheus and Eurydice are any less of a couple just that in following the myth more closely we loose some time of just them).

Christian follows Satine to hell long before she dies, he jumps headfirst in without even having met her! Momantre- the Paris underworld- he comes in search of it in this version of the story and finds her already there. Trapped by circumstance rather than soul ownership and the “twist” is he doesn’t bring her home. He makes his home there.

In both, the surviving lover is left near catatonic on the stage, rocking themself for some form of comfort or unable to move at all. Their sobs echo through theaters in which a pin could drop. Love doesn’t heal illness, nor does it reverse starvation. It means a lot to those of us alive, to the memory of those loved. But to death?

What gets me is how Satine is actually the one to save Christian! (She stops his suicide attempt) She, like Eurydice, meets her end in the most joyful, hope filled moment. That second where audience and character alike think it will turn out this time… despite full well knowing it’s a tragedy. Christ!!

Conclusion-

All tragedies must now end with a confetti cannon encore. (Moulin rouge nat. Tour you’re getting my therapy bills)

[atomically99]

not to expose one of my other special interests, but specialshipping dragon age inquisition au while i am (im)patiently waiting for veilguard news

as is per all my aus i create in my head (i have a lot), yellow is of course the inquisitor. i see her as a rift mage lavellan. lavellan bc yellow being integrally connected to nature like the dalish are is important to her character. i see her as a mage for spirit healing and the fact she has legit powers in canon (telekinesis and such) and rift mage to represent her connection w pokemon as a connection to the fade/spirits.

red is definitely warrior. i see his character as a similar role to cullen. cullen is a seasoned templar who is a solid leader and trains troops (one can see green (m) in this role but this is a special au and not a feeling one lol). red is the de facto leader of the dex holders and that carries over. cullen and red’s physical trauma (lyrium addiction/withdrawal and paralysis of wrists and ankles) has a similar carry over.

in my mind, each gen would have one of each class (mage, rogue, or warrior)

i do think that the kanto quartet should serve as the inky and advisors but while i think blue could be good in leliana’s spymaster role, i don’t think green makes for a very good josephine. josephine is a diplomat who does all of the talking for the inquisition. i do think green would do good at this especially considering he is a public figure both as a dex holder and a gym leader. i think the personality difference is keeping me from really seeing it

i can see blue and silver as rogues. with blue as an artificer (traps and gadgets) and silver as an assassin. i could also see-story wise-them as apostates who fled the circle (led by pryce) and were on the run before the mage rebellion.

gold is def warrior and crystal i do see as a mage. i’m stealing this from dragon age 2 but crys would make a solid force mage. gold would likely be a champion.

i have kinda more abt the other gens but the one ill say is the lowkey equivalent of interpol for rakutsu would be the qun. he was raised in interpol and goes undercover for their interests. it has a similar energy

okay back to specialshipping, can you imagine the angst from this au?? in your heart shall burn??? adamant???? trespasser?????? there’s so much to choose from.

considering clan lavellan and kirkwall are both in the free marches, there could be a whole moment pre-inquisition where they meet. he could save her from a tal-vashoth attack. she could heal him after he deals with abominations or demons. and they meet again after the conclave, under stressful circumstances

is this clear and concise and makes sense? no, but i’ve been lore binging dragon age so i had to do it. if any of you spe and da fans have thoughts or just hate this, hit me up i wanna talle about dragon age

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Meanwhile there is a darkness growing in Ketterdam, and it seems a killer may be stalking the streets of West Stave. An unknown evil is closing its jaws over the city, and it’s starting to feel like nowhere is safe.

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus @i-need-help-this-is-my-obsession

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

Content warnings for this chapter: abuse, child abuse, blood, wounds, violence, weapons, ableism, grief, loss of a parent

AO3 link

Chapter 42 - Wylan

“You sure about this?” asked Jesper, quietly, as they walked up the stairs of the White Rose together. 

No. But he was going to do it anyway. 

He was glad he’d asked Jesper to come, walking through West Stave had been quite the disturbing enough experience in his company and Wylan didn’t fancy trying it alone, but he had also asked him to wait outside whilst Nina undid the Tailoring over Wylan’s scars. It felt like too much to even have Nina there with him, but that was rather necessary and he was pretty sure they weren’t going to find a way around that. 

“Little late to change my mind now, isn’t it?”

“Of course not,” Jesper’s voice was soft, “We turn back whenever you want to,”

Wylan wasn’t entirely sure why he’d asked Nina to undo his Tailoring, he hadn’t been planning on it and wasn’t even sure what he was going to say when he’d opened his mouth, but he knew that he needed to do this. 

“Do you…?” Wylan wavered, “Do you think I shouldn’t?”

“I think you should do whatever you need to,”

Jesper’s voice was soft. His hand found Wylan’s and, though at first contract he had to fight not to flinch away, Wylan let their fingers intertwine. Who could have known that all it took to change the world was a little bunch of flowers? 

Wylan had been given flowers twice in his entire life. Once just a few days ago, from Jesper, and once when he was eight years old. He’d been sitting on a bench in the top garden near the house, kicking his feet back and forth through the air where his legs were not yet long enough to reach the ground and staring obstinately and the paving stones far beneath the soles of his shoes as he shrank away from his nanny’s lecture. He couldn’t remember what she’d been telling him by now, but it didn’t really matter. It had been almost a week since his mother died, and yet the world felt far too normal for that to possibly be true. The house went on just the same, and Wylan spent everyday waiting for the door to open, to hear his mother’s voice, to feel her arms around him. He had not seen her for two weeks before she died; she had travelled to the country for fresh air, in hopes of easing the pain and illness in her lungs, and simply never came back.

Wylan’s father had been factual, straight forward, and concise in informing him of her death, and Wylan supposed he could not bring himself to say anything more. So many times he had reprimanded Wylan about the ease with which his emotions spilled from him, and he was better than his son: he would keep his grief to himself, and Wylan would do his best to echo. It wasn’t easy. 

It was the day before they were to travel to the Lakehouse that Wylan sat in that garden kicking his little feet off the edge of the bench, the last day he would be allowed to look upon it with his own eyes. The nanny didn’t know that; within the week she would be dismissed, knowing Wylan’s habits too well to run the risk of her noticing the lie about his sight, and someone new would be hired to replace her - the official reason would be that Jan Van Eck felt her services no longer necessary for a child of Wylan’s age, but that when he returned with his son injured and set to live the rest of his life blind he would reassess that decision. But that day in the garden, the sunshine bright and the flowers blooming, whatever it was that Wylan had done had earned him a lecture long enough that he would walk away with sunburn on the back of his neck, perhaps the price to pay for staring at his shoes instead of sitting with proper posture. 

“I know that this is all difficult for you, Wylan,” she’d said, when she was finished, “And I understand you have a lot to think about right now,”

He did. And she didn’t even know most of it. 

“But you need to keep your chin up, and you need to be staying sensible,”

Wylan clenched his jaw to keep his lower lip from wobbling and refused to meet her eye. 

“Here,” 

He looked up slowly to see that she was holding out a tiny bunch of flowers, clearly ones that she’d collected from the garden - probably when they were on their walk. It was a motley little bundle, really, some with browning petals or wilting leaves, not matched to each other or at all arranged. 

“Let’s have a smile, hey? We can put these in a vase in your bedroom, brighten it up a little. Would you like that?”

He nodded, trying to please her, and forced his mouth to make the smile she sought. She seemed quite pleased with herself at that. 

“Good boy. You run on into the house now, then, and pop those on your dresser for me, and I’ll find a little vase whilst you get ready for your lessons this afternoon. Your tutor will be here in twenty minutes or so,”

Wylan’s stomach dropped again, but all the same he held the wobbly smile in place as he took the flowers in his little hands and hurried back inside. When he came back to his bedroom that evening, his lessons having gone as predictably terrible as always, the flowers were gone. Whoever had taken them had made sure to leave a single, curled and browning petal behind on the dresser, just so he knew. 

Jesper knocked on the door, and Wylan felt the panic creeping slowly in again. This place felt suffocating - actually, quite literally. The entire place stank of cloying perfume, and though at first he’d thought it was the ridiculously extensive displays of roses at the root he was now sure that they alone couldn’t possibly be to blame for the strength of it. It felt like he was under attack; like the scent was a living thing that had crawled inside of him and grabbed hold of his insides. But at least once they’d stepped inside Nina’s room there was a slight reprieve as the smell dipped slightly; there were no flower displays in here except the vase on the table, so perhaps it had been that all along. 

Wylan was vaguely aware of Nina greeting them both and of Jesper exchanging words with her, but he didn’t tune back into the world until he realised Jesper was saying his name.

“Wylan? You okay?” 

“Oh- yes, sorry. Yes,”

Jesper didn’t look entirely convinced but he kept his voice light before he stepped back out of the room, promising Wylan again that he would be there when they were done. Wylan only nodded, and found himself not quite aware of anything more until he was sitting at the little table with the roses on it, Nina opposite him. She was wearing a red Heartrender kefta and he could see that some of the black embroidery near her shoulder had pulled, threatening to unravel, and her hair was pulled back in a bun with just the front few pieces falling free to frame her face. He realised he was staring at her kefta, and tried to subtly adjust his gaze without attracting attention to his eyes. 

He’d insisted on paying Nina despite her offers to waive the fee, and though he was quite sure she’d undercharged him Wylan put up no more fight once cash had changed hands. She talked quietly as she worked, the task was slow and he supposed she was trying to distract him from the acute itching that flared beneath her gentle touches, but Wylan could only really offer answers occasionally. She asked him about his work with Kaz and the Dregs, told him something about Ravka that he had forgotten to listen to. Wylan just sat very still, feeling the flex of her fingers over his skin.

Anya had not been the only Grisha indentured to Wylan’s father, but for most of his memory she had been the only Corporalnik. Before her there had been another woman, older than Wylan or Anya but not as old as Jan Van Eck, of whom Wylan only had one clear memory. The lakehouse.

Stop the bleeding. No - don’t Heal him. Let it scar. 

Wylan had sat on a spindly little wooden chair like this one, no longer daring to swing his feet off the edge, looking straight ahead at the wall on the other side of the room. There was nowhere else he could look, with a hand holding his forehead in place. Tears tracked down his cheeks and mingled with his blood, and for the crime of crying he was denied a handkerchief to clear either. Hours later he would see himself in the mirror and almost flinch at the sight of his pale and scarred countenance looking thoroughly like he had cried thick red streams of blood. 

“I explained to you why this was necessary, Wylan,” his father had snapped, his fragile patience frayed already, “And you told me that you understood. Are you so much of a simpleton that I need to teach you what the word "understand " means?”

Wylan hung his head. He could not explain that no matter how well he understood the necessity of the action that it still caused him pain, that he was not choosing to sit here and cry like a weakling but maybe that really was all he could amount to. 

“No father,” he whispered, “I’m sorry,”

He’d earned himself an admonishment for insolence, for speaking out of turn, and held his tongue the rest of the time he spent sitting in that little chair. The cuts they made on his face were planned but not necessarily precise; there had to be at least one that didn’t run straight through the eyes, so it didn’t look too perfect, and of that same vein some that ran deeper down his face and some that finished far quicker. It wasn’t until later, when enough of his father’s peers had seen him sporting the new accessory, that Wylan was permitted to have them Tailored - and even then the spiny edge of one that finished just over his cheekbone was always left visible, like a little warning and reminder to himself. Like he could fucking forget. 

The Corporalnik who’d accompanied them to the lake house vanished upon their return, and it was a few years afterwards that Anya appeared. Wylan couldn’t picture the woman’s face, now, could bring no image of her at all to mind. He could only feel her cold fingers on her face, the itch and the sting and the blood and tears dripping horribly over him until he truly had gone blind beneath their watery film. The press of the knife was back beneath his eye, that sting, the sudden pain and then the open coldness of the wound; the feeling of someone’s hands against his skin, the itch of a Healing, the tiny, accidental catch of a nail along the edge of a fresh cut. He gasped, breath catching in his throat. 

“Wylan?” 

He was shaken back to the present, hurtling through the air without moving a single inch from the spindly little wooden chair. Nina’s voice was soft, nervous, watching him as though he were a delicate vase that might tumble and crack as she drew her hands away.

“Keep going,” he whispered, gripping the seat of the chair until his knuckles turned white. 

“Are you-?”

“Keep going,”

She continued, but the concerned look in her eyes didn’t fade. 

A silence settled over them for a short time, before Wylan dared to ask the question that had been bubbling inside him ever since Nina had agreed to do this for him. 

“You said…” he hesitated, “The other day, at the Slat, you said that most of the Grisha in Ketterdam know each other,”

Nina nodded, then seemed to catch herself and said aloud:

“For the most part - we know of each other, at least, I don’t know many in person,”

“Do you think - I mean, I’m kind of… looking for someone,” he swallowed, “Do you think you might be able to help me find her?”

“I can try,” said Nina, smiling as she leant back and stretched for a moment, “Not much more to do now. So,” she moved back in and her fingers found purchase in whichever of Wylan’s scars had not yet been uncovered, “who are we looking for?”

“Her name’s Anya, Anya-,” said Wylan, suddenly sure he was glowing with embarrassment at the horrifying realisation that, if he had ever even known it all, he had forgotten Anya’s surname. He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, “She’s a Healer, on indenture in the city but I don’t know where. She was at my father’s house until a few months before I… it was six months ago, I think. Something like that. I don’t know what happened,”

“I don’t recognise her name,” Nina told him, “But there’s a good chance that I’ll know somebody who does. I can try,”

“Thank you,” Wylan felt some tiny relief breaking inside him, because at least if he knew where she was then he knew if she was safe, could maybe even try to devise some way of helping her, “How much…?”

“Nothing,” 

“But-”

“Nothing,” Nina repeated, firmly. 

“Please, I already feel like I’m underpaying you for this at least let me-”

“Don’t be silly Wylan,” she said, not unkindly, “I don’t charge my friends. Look left for me?”

Wylan tilted his face slowly, trying to pretend she had not just changed the world again with a single sentence. With a single word. 

“Sorry, I mean your left,” said Nina gently, placing two fingers on his face to turn him in the other direction. 

Horror flooded through Wylan and he felt his cheeks burning, but Nina said nothing more of the matter and it was only a few minutes later that she leant back and said: 

“There, all done,”

Wylan smiled.

[septembersghost]

When did you realize you loved Elvis?

trying to figure out the answer to this is like trying to put a mosaic together, because my first thought as a reply was a quote echoing in my head ("i've loved you since i've known you. no, that's not...i think maybe even before"), and this picture i saved a couple of weeks ago because it reminded me of him:

and this:

the fact that he said "my people," because that's what we are, that's what we share and the level where he'd meet us...the kindred spirit in that, the open vulnerability. even now, that's the way he welcomes us into that embrace and connects us, that humanity and warmth and generosity and love is still so, so present that it's hard to believe he's not right here giving that of himself like he always did.

i've mentioned this a bunch of times, but i'll reiterate it since i don't know how long you've been here and if you've seen it - there's not a time when i don't remember being aware of him because he's such a cultural icon and because i always adored vintage things, and i have all these memories of him trying to get through to me. the fact that i've loved can't help falling in love for as long as i can remember (and have been familiar with a lot of his famous hits, but in a way that was more superficial), the picture frame my grandma gave me with his photo in it as a child, and i didn't take him out because i thought he looked friendly and sweet, seeing the unchained melody performance as a teenager. i keep relying on the same metaphor because it's the way i picture it in my head, that he was standing in my open doorway waiting for me to fully understand and let him in. that really is what it feels like? i should've loved him so many times before. and maybe in some fateful way i already did.

still, the timing was cosmic and perfect that he became fully-formed and heard and beloved to me more recently, because it's like he knew exactly when i would most need that touchstone and comfort. he's given so much light to me. i love the raw passion and joy of hearing his voice and the depth of his music, i appreciate knowing how real he was as a person and the many layers there, how profoundly complex and yet beautifully simple he was all at once. i don't think there was a moment i can wholly pinpoint as the definitive moment i realized - was it in the film, when the perspective switch flips, and we hear his speech, when we hear, "so i keep singing a song," and it took my breath away? was it the morning i talked about yesterday, when i was listening to true love travels on a gravel road and was so captivated i had to sit down with it? was it before that, when i cried watching him perform if i can dream, and the way it resonated and everything it meant to me? was it the night bridge over troubled water came up on shuffle and felt like him holding out a hand while i was ill and struggling with a heavy sense of grief, and hearing the words of the song was consoling? was it day i read this and it rang through my whole heart?:

it feels like it was years' worth of time coalescing, and that it happened suddenly and all at once. it's why i reflect on, "i'll be coming home, wait for me" a lot, because it felt like a piece of home that had been waiting a long time. like he walked through that door smiling softly and fully-formed to say: hi honey. knew you'd find me one of these days.

so it's not a concise answer! somehow i just loved him, and knew that it was intrinsic and fateful and true. 💗

[littlegaypeopleinmyphone]

Thoughts on Good Omens Season 2

(CONTAINS SPOILERS OBVIOUSLY)

Good Omens season 2 was such a genuinely beautiful and moving addition to the Good Omens franchise. I could write forever about it so I'll try to keep it concise, and mostly talk about the finale because it was SO DAMN GOOD.

I have never been so genuinely compelled by a piece of acting before in my life. When I say that David Tennant's delivery of the confession at the end of episode 6 changed my life, I truly mean that. The way his voice hitches in his throat, the way he stutters, the way he has to keep forcing the words out. Goodness, it was a DELIGHT.

Michael Sheen brought the same energy to the scene. Both actors seemed like they were on the verge of tears, but Mr. Sheen's facial expressions and mannerisms (especially AFTER the kiss) broke my heart right in half. Tennant and Sheen both care so deeply about these characters and it is truly beautiful to watch.

The entire latter half of ep 6 had my stomach in a knot in the best possible way.

Lets get into the rambling analysis in the form of various bullet points:

1) Crowley kissing him was a stupid idea, sure, but I DON'T THINK AZIRAPHALE EVEN UNDERSTOOD IT WAS A LOVE CONFESSION BEFORE THAT. I TRULY DON'T THINK THERE WAS ANY OTHER WAY TO TELL HIM.

2) Aziraphale called CROWLEY a "bad guy". Not JUST HELL. He said "YOU'RE the bad guys". On top of this, he keeps wanting Crowley to change. I understand that Aziraphale truly does want to change the way heaven functions, and he wants Crowley to be happy and accepted, and he wants to get rid of all his pain, but HOLY SHIT WHAT ARE YOU DOING. It feels so out of character for Aziraphale. This point in itself is making me like the coffee theory, but also I dont like fan theories much so I'm not regarding that.

3) CROWLEY DOESN'T KNOW AZIRAPHALE LOVES HIM BACK. AZIRAPHALE NEVER GAVE HIM ANY INDICATION OF LOVING HIM BACK. CROWLEY DEFINITELY THINKS AZIRAPHALE HATES HIM.

4) "I forgive you."

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? IS THAT A JOKE?? ARE YOU KIDDING? I DON'T EVEN HAVE ANY COMMENTARY I JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT THAT LINE KILLED ME TO DEATH.

5) Muriel saw. That's pretty hilarious to me. What r u doing back there silly??

6) THE METATRON ONLY TOLD AZIRAPHALE HE COULD BRING CROWLEY BECAUSE

HE KNEW THAT WAS THE ONLY WAY AZIRAPHALE WOULD AGREE

HE KNEW CROWLEY WOULD SAY NO

7) THE KISS LASTED T W E L V E SECONDS. 12. TEN AND TWO. 1/5 OF A MINUTE.

I'm sure when I collect myself I will have more insightful things to say, but for now ill just say that the season was absolutely beautiful. I love art that makes me feel things. It's a true work of art. Heart and passion just SEEPS out of the season.

10/10!!

[inflammatory]

have you read gormenghast. Also top five hottest guitar solos

I have not but just at a glance it looks pretty compelling. Love that the protagonists name is titus groan, that’s a magnificent thing to be named..ill look into it

Also LOVELY question solo focused guitar stuff is kinda not my main fascination of course partly cause of the recent johnny obsession where he does more jangle/rhythm-as-lead work. But im a normal human being and I still enjoy a good solo. Though i think? The ones i enjoy tend to verge between riff/solo with repeated phrases

Im convinced that less is more even wrt guitar so its not surprising tbh i think a good solo should focus on 1) communication 2) brevity. I feel like overdoing a solo can quickly empty it of any feeling you intended to put in it - and esp like classic rock style soloing can quickly get cliche or tacky (see: oasis. No hate i like them fine but very little of their guitar work speaks to me)

Quick “typical” picks for hottest include staples like hotel california - works with the narrative they made, anticipation built throughout song deliberately FOR the solo (can ANY lyric or vocals adequately follow from ‘you can check out any time you like but can never leave’?? There must be a solo. Its imperative), the kind of smooth growl sound of it that makes you think of ‘The Beast’ that they talk about in the prev verses, length of it justifiable in my eyes by the sense of twists and turns in a maze, the gradual segue into a pattern and fadeout very wickedly suggesting the ‘can never leave’ endless hallways fading into more hallways vibe. You get the idea that the pattern could just keep going on and on.

And then my own subjective picks for hottest. the solo from stop me if you think you’ve heard this one before, partly because of how rare it is and the very concise communication of exactly the emotion of the rest of the song, didnt ever read this quote before today but johnny marr said he wanted it to sound like a solo by a punk guitarist whos trash at guitar so he did it on one string. For the poignancy. Which is bonkers because hes completely right and it works so well. That whine, that slight bitter taste, perfect late Smiths instrumentation. THE solo from a band that doesnt do solos. Saying: Stop me if you think that youve heard this one before. but you obviously havent. Kill yourself

In the same realm of “bad good” the one graham coxon does in coffee & tv which is rightfully one of blurs best songs its just so. And he attests he was just messing around but its a perfect fit with the mildly sardonic/fully earnest rest of the song. It feels tongue in cheek but simultaneously deeply sincere. I feel very much in the space of those foul distorted wails. Which is why blur will always be on top of oasis. (Honorary nod to classic of discordant solos while my guitar gently weeps by the beatles which is great but not making it into my top 5 because i like the guitar work in the rest of the song more than the solo bit). I think blur just understands the deep inherent value of getting a bit sillay (Woo hoo!) But also its completely serious and you need to take it completely seriously its so good. Just speaks to my personal tightrope of serious/not/serious/not

Okay and in terms of objectively technically jaw dropping solos i prefer the classic metal over rock so im gonna put. Can I play with madness by iron maiden here. Out of their many many blisteringly hot solos because when i tried to conjure up ‘hot solo’ in my mind i came up with that particular solo and had to work backwards to remember where it was from. It’s funny to call heavy metal guitar ‘lovely’ but thats exactly what the riffs on this song are. Theyve got that freezing hot mystique of the whole concept album. And then the solo itself moves everything up into teeth chattering sexiness. Cause the song is structured as an exchange - speaker to prophet, antagonising each other, the solo is the perfect climax - goes into that quick run of shrieks, then distinct phrases like a person speaking, drawing breaths, speaking again - and is the perfect length to get that idea across. Idk whether its adrian smith or dave murray but it’s brilliance

Ok thats four and i still feel like i have a lot more but you said “hottest” so right now the most fuckable in my opinion is actually another graham coxon one and its the one in my terracotta heart. Which i understand may subjectively only be rrreeally really really hot to me but 1) perfect anguished leadup to it. perfect continuation of the little riff he does during the verse/chorus before it. 2) subdued in tone, introspective almost, but has that flair..that groove….that hint of acerbic….You might say “ITS JUST THE SAME PHRASE SIX OR SO TIMES” YES IT IS and i need it INSIDE MEEEE

[datastate]

Hi I'm the Mr. Chidouin being manipulative to Kai who's projecting anon, hopefully there aren't others so you understand which ask I'm referring to. Idk if one of your last posts was referring to me but in case it was I'm sorry, I didn't notice and didn't mean to just "remix" what you were already saying, I thought I was adding something of my own-ish but I probably missed some of your posts :(

Sorry again and sorry for the likely wonky English too but it's 3:15 am and I'm a bit sleepy so I just hope what I'm saying is understandable

I'm sorry, I didn't read what you posted next and assumed I did something bad 😭 There's no rush in replying to any of my asks ofc don't worry I'm sorry if it came across like that I'm just terrible at expressing myself Have a great whatever your time is where you are :D

hi!! no worries abt it; i know there was likely no ill-intent with you or anyone else who has done this in the past (except for. a couple hk fans but OTL neither here nor there), and it's only natural to be inspired by other headcanons/meta you've seen floating around -- it's how a sort of 'fan community' works! it's one of the things i greatly appreciate abt spaces like these, too.

in particular, i just get very wary when it's repurposed to specifically be a case of 'why is no one talking about this' / 'i'm the first one to talk about this' (& adjacent types of 'presentation') when... hey. i can see this person is following me while i have been speaking about [headcanon/meta]. on occasion, i do reach out to rb the post itself w a rehashing of my thoughts in case the other person's too scared to initiate conversation and does genuinely want to engage in it - i just haven't had the energy as of late to initiate conversations as long as i typically enjoy... (º □ º l|l)

as for yourself, though i know you've realized it wasn't abt you (or really. anyone. it's just a disheartening pattern i've recognized;;), don't worry! especially as you are the one who's been sending in asks to have that little back/forth, i truly appreciate it!!

&. i also struggle with tone, so i apologize if the original post came across accusatorily/angrily as that wasn't my intention at all!! - i don't hold any grudge at all against people who do this, and i realize it's something that is oftentimes unintentional! like i said, it just makes me sad because it halts that sort of engaging conversation/discussion you can have with other people :'] rather it's through asks or rbs, or even through discord messages, i really do love getting the chance to share/hear out ideas. there's no need for this to be solitary, and it honestly shouldn't be!

i know in my experience, there are some people who've definitely thought more about characters than i've ever considered - such as keiji, where miles'/atlas-of-galaxies' interpretation of him has now influenced my view of his character for the better and on a deeper level than i previously gave him credit for. or even anzu! i'm sure everyone's seen hazard's/corvidcrown's extensive headcanons for anzu that still manage to fall in line with how she acts in-game and keeps the information we were given in ch3's introduction (staring at nankidai forgetting he wrote it so anzu. made her outfit) & it's really inspiring and i love talking to him about her because it always presents so many new ways to handle her character!! even kanna - someone who i consider myself to think a lot about - one of my other friends (jaws/jawzxcm) recently wrote kanna and touched on specifically how/why her insecurities aligned with her desire to 'prove' herself worthy as someone to be cared about (in kindness (which kugie points out begins to feel like she's a doormat), & in usefulness (as seen in the main death game)). it's hard to keep it concise, but there was much more discussion behind each of these that made me go like 'holy shit! that's such a cool interpretation' (it has fundamentally changed my view of the character)

these are all characters that i also dig into, but it's typically through their dynamics with other characters that i spend more time thinking about - which means i don't often get the chance to truly mull over every little detail. but getting the chance to hear from others who have... it's really heart-warming and eye-opening! i always enjoy getting the chance to share that and find realizations/new ways of reading their character arcs that i wouldn't have previously done on my own.