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#i guess cupid's kitchen is getting back-burnered again
chalkrevelations · 1 year
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Well, gdi.
I’m 2 eps into Manner of Death, and I’ve spent the past - year? year and a half? - poking around in bl being all, ‘yeah, yeah, MaxTul, whatever,’ but you guys weren’t kidding, and this is going to send me down a MaxTul rabbithole, isn’t it?
Anyway. Bun, even before he so blatantly tried to stop you from investigating, I was guessing your friend with the mustache was the killer. Anybody with that facial hair is up to no good, plus he’s related to the local magistrate, so we’re gonna get some good corruption and coverup, I bet. Also, i don’t yet know how this ties into Natty, but I suspect the bitemarks on both bodies are not only related but are also related to the way Mustache Guy was trying to haul Jane bodily out of the party. The only thing that makes me doubt it’s him, at this point, is that y’all are telegraphing his creepiness, and it’s kind of early to be tipping your hand, so I’m wondering if this is deliberate misdirection by the show. Plus, Inspector M, or whatever his name is, from the police, is also a creepfest and does a really good job of reminding me why i don’t trust cops, so there’s also that possibility, I guess, although I’m more surprised M hasn’t roofied you, yet, Bun, and threatened your virtue. I kind of thought he was getting you sloppy drunk with a purpose in the first episode, but I guess not yet?
As for you, Tan, you could stand to be a little less of a creep, yourself. I realize this drunken stranger kissed you out of nowhere after you two shared some sort of Moment When Your Gazes Met, but hitting on him in his hospital bed with his friend - your apparent girlfriend, who you seemed perfectly willing to cheat on with him before she turned up dead - barely cold ... you can see how you look a little skeevy, right?
Bun, you are beautiful and perfect and have never done anything wrong in your life (except completely forgetting about Oat - who are you, Kinn Theerapanyakul?), and I am charmed by your self-appointed calling as speaker for the dead. You and Frank Pembleton, man.
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