“The Sacrificial Lamb, The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing, and The Wolf”
All are the Lamb, All are the Wolf.
The Trinity is One and the Same, they are blood thirsty and the blood that quenches.
The hearts that bleed, and the hearts that are bled out.
Oh to consume, oh to be wasted, oh to waste.
Isn’t this the dilemma, isn’t this the beauty?
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I get so many comments on my Tim series like “omg it’s so hilarious/unrealistic that he gets sick this often, take that boy to a doctor 🤣” and like, I get it, it seems like a lot if you read the series straight through. And part of it is simply because I enjoy writing hurt/comfort fics, so of course that’s what I’m going to gravitate towards. Gotta spark that joy, etc etc
….but like, you guys do realize that people who have medical issues tend to get more medical issues, right? It’s not like “oh he had three things wrong with him already so he’s hit his quota now and anything on top of that is absurd.” It’s more like… this is someone with overall subpar health from a history of chronic neglect, so yeah, he’s probably going to be more susceptible to illness than most people 🤷♀️
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a thunderstorm woke me up and now my veins are running on pure caffeine and (unfortunately) i have jamil on the mind.
so now i'm thinking about what if yuu has an extreme fear of thunder
imagine there's a thunderstorm in the middle of the night.
you've just been weirdly anxious, and when jamil inquired, you begrudgingly admit that you're afraid of thunder.
it's embarrassing. why would you be scared of thunder, they're just loud sounds. it’ll pass.
jamil had to stop himself from making a judgmental remark. even if jokingly.
he’s deathly afraid of bugs, he literally has no place to make fun of you for it.
at least with bugs you can get rid of them, but you can’t just fight the weather unless you’re a powerful mage.
so the least jamil can do is to comfort you.
maybe listening to music sharing headphones.
or make you focus on his voice instead so you don’t pay attention to the loud noises. either by chatting or reading a book together.
of course, maybe he could also use snake whisper on you so your mind would effortlessly cease those fears.
jamil would if you asked. but he’s not going to offer it himself.
(besides, it’s a bit weird if he’s using his unique magic on you again, considering whatever your relationship is at this point.)
and it’s not like that idea would even cross your mind when all you could think about was the agonizing dread of oncoming thunder.
plus it kinda sounds crazy knowingly asking someone to put you under mind control.
every time thunder boomed you found yourself clinging to jamil's clothes. burying your face in his chest. as if you were holding onto him for dear life.
he'd laugh if he knew you weren't deathly afraid of it. so he'd make soothing gestures instead.
the thunder was still unbearable, but eventually you found comfort in jamil’s warmth.
it really helped to drown it out. at least mostly.
this seemed to be a better outcome anyway than forcing you to just forget about it.
and it would’ve been easier, sure. but how many times could you get the chance to cozy up to jamil
and on the other hand, jamil kinda wanted this moment to last. how many times could he have an excuse for "relaxing" with you.
as much as it makes you suffer, him wanting this moment to last longer meant wishing for the thunderstorm to last longer as well.
jamil hopes you can forgive him for being selfish in that regard.
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something metal clatters in the background and atsumu is quick to respond despite being mid bite. osamu hears the crisp rip of the fluffy bread, desensitized to the noise of a busy night market and watching his brother instead.
despite atsumu’s gift of focus on a volleyball court, he’s always been easily distracted. his left cheek puffs out, storing the mix of savory sweet goodness for now as he inspects whatever is happening in the distance.
just by the sound alone, osamu guesses it’s a chair. not quite raucous enough to be a tilting cart, and its clanging note a little too flat to be a fallen wok.
atsumu though, has never been fond of guesses. he likes certainty, thrives in it. osamu watches as his brother straightens his back. sharp collarbones peek from his shirt as his elbows dig into the table.
and actually, that meat bun he just bought is looking better than the pile of fried (more like dried) chicken he chose. osamu quickly swipes the second bun from his brother’s tray and stuffs it all in his mouth.
yes. wayyyy better. and free at that.
food has always tasted more delicious when it’s been stolen off of atsumu’s plate.
osamu is able to swallow without reprimand though atsumu’s finally calmed down enough to begin chewing through his initial bite.
how long will it take him to notice that he’s been pilfered?
he can’t help but egg on his victim just to see.
“i thought ya refused to come out to these…” when osamu knows he has his brother’s attention again, osamu tilts his head up in a mocking motion of thought, “…what’d ya call them again?”
touristy ass grabs. that’s what atsumu said earlier today after taking his suitcase and leading him to the futon he’d be sleeping in for the week.
“shut up.” the words are spoken with a beautiful view of ground meat and pressed bread between the blonde twin’s teeth.
“ya said ya didn’t want to go because,” osamu shakes his head once more, “what was it? remind me?”
the night market doesn’t fit his macros. osamu hasn’t forgotten but it makes his brother mad if he pretends that he has. so pretend he does.
“oh shut ya trap, will ya?” atsumu finally snaps. he throws his tray with the half eaten meat bun at him, “ya sound better with that in ya mouth instead.”
atsumu snatches the container of chicken from osamu’s hand. the blonde brother glares at his all too amused visitor. he pops a piece of chicken into his mouth before he speaks.
“ya know im a fucking sucker for ya, ya scrub,” atsumu begrudgingly admits. “if ya wanna go to the night market then—“
the admission shocks osamu. he looks down at the bun that is now in his possession.
he doesn’t have to finish the words because what he means is right in front of him.
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Considering the ask I got about christianized speech in Hilda fic writing and Sadie’s tags about the idiom I mentioned, the topic of “do christians exist in the Hilda universe?” has been on my mind. And then, I remembered that there’s canonically a place called Saint Guglow’s Cemetery
So I thought “hey, that’s interesting. Is that a saint I don’t know about?” and looked it up. But nope, not a single positive result to tell me who the hell mr. Guglow might have been. Which leaves me with two options:
1- There aren’t christians in the Hildaverse, but whatever religions there might be there is at least one which utilizes the concept of saints and canonization, or-
2- There are not only christians, but also specifically catholics in the Hildaverse. And they have access to exclusive secret saints over there
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