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buckrecs · 1 year

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Hello! You are doing the lords work here on this blog🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 do you have any soulmate au recs? I know some people don’t like them so no problem if not and sorry if you’ve been asked before!

Soulmate AU

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

the knowing by @noctumbra

ten days later, james barnes got a call from the police.

for your love by @noctumbra

they were very young; a little shy from being fourteen at that time, but both of them knew they were it. soulmates.

The Owl and the Wolf by @waiting4inspiration

In a world where a person can their soulmate’s spirit animal speaking like a human, Bucky hears your owl’s voice one day.

Snowflakes by @all1e23

Steve drags Bucky to a Christmas festival to take his mind off the fact that he has yet to meet his soulmate.

Colors in the Dark | 2 by @buckychristwrites

The world is without color, and that’s never bothered the Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA didn’t have time for love and soulmates. At almost a century old, what are the odds that his soulmate was even still living?

Say That Again by @justsomebucky

Everyone hears a key word or phrase in their head from their soulmate, something only heard in person when the moment is right.

Teddy Bear by @softlyspector

in which when one soulmate loses something, their other half finds it.

Winter Sun by @softlyspector

When you and Bucky are kidnapped, you find out just how far you would go to keep each other safe.

Assassination to Soulmates by @bxcketbarnes

See the World the Way You Do by @vanderlustwords

You start to see colour when you meet your soulmate. Bucky thinks that soulmates are a one of a kind thing—you get one and that's it. His world used to be colourful once and then he lost that. He's resigned to see black and white for the rest of his life...until flashes of colours would appear from the corner of his eye. And it seemed to happen more and more as Bucky spends time with you.

Stay Still | Please, don’t by @buckysknifecollection

What if your soulmate was the one person you had hurt the most?

Enchanted by @natasharomanovf

The reader is in a loveless relationship when she meets her true soulmate, Bucky.

what’s in a name? by @ciarawritesmarvel

When you love someone, their name appears on your shoulder. If it’s in blue, it’s unrequited. If it’s in red, it’s requited. The name turns black when your love dies.

SERIES

Who I Was Looking For by @soopranatural

Even after you started wearing cuffs, the words are engraved in your mind as well as your wrist. You know you’re not destined for love as soon as you learn how to read. How could you? When the words “Sorry, you’re not who I was looking for” are written in black ink on your skin.

The Only Exception by @whitestarbucky

Humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves. A lesson that taunted Bucky Barnes his whole life. Perhaps it was why he refused to believe in it. He couldn’t afford to. Then you came into his life to challenge his fears to their deepest degrees, not once, but twice. Whether he liked it or not.

A Moment Of Your Time by @stevesbestgirl

A soulmate AU where the headstrong reader realizes that she’s meant to love the brutal mob boss of New York City, James Buchanan Barnes. She doesn’t want to be a part of organized crime and she doesn’t want to rely on anyone, but how do you ignore your soulmate?

Scars by @tokoyamisstuff

whatever you write on your skin, it appears on your Soulmate’s.

Flowers Bloom by @revengingbarnes

Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. She is born with flowers around her entire left shoulder.

Heartbeat by @after-avenging-hours

Where your heartbeat matches the beat of your soulmate’s; they speed up together, slow down together, skip at the same time, but that means they also stop together...

The Color of Blood by @theidiotwhowritesthings

In this world, a person didn’t discover color until they locked eyes with their soulmate. As an agent of SHIELD, finding your soulmate was hardly a priority. Especially since you were currently dealing with the shocking discovery that HYDRA had been pulling the strings behind SHIELD actions this entire time. Life was all about timing, and you were about to find out that your timing was absolute shit.

My night demons by @themorningsunshine

In which one can see their soulmate's dreams and communicate with them through those dreams.

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes headcanons #bucky barnes soulmate au #bucky barnes modern au #winter soldier!bucky #winter soldier!bucky x reader

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 year

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Hello!! Can i plss request gun's ideal type. What kind of person he finds attractive,etc,etc. Thank u very much 🙏

Oof, digging this out from drafts. Thanks for the ask anon. Here's a couple more I had also written about!

Lookism: Ideal types

(Johan Seong, Jake Kim, Goo Kim, Gun Park)

Not all lookism men attracting the I can fix him types?

Johan Seong

Talk about mommy issues, come get your boy.

He's looking for stability, an anchor in the storm. Someone that makes him feel loved and present. He can be unbelievably flightly and childish so patience and tolerance is a must.

His tantrums and sulks are legendary so you need to be able to handle him and focus on clear communication so your needs are taken care of too.

It goes without saying you need to be a dog person. Choosing between you or Eden and Miro? He would pick his pups everytime.

Jake Kim

Wants someone here for a long time and a good time. He expects a groan and smack for his lecherous winks and embarassing jokes but you need to be fun too. And if you have an arsenal of cringe up your sleeve? All the better.

You don't need to be his exact equal, but having someone that he can offload to and bounce ideas off of helps. After all a problem shared is a problem halved.

Being kind and tolerant of the rest of Big Deal will make Jake warm up to you quicker. If they see you as one of the crew, then you're definitely the one. However you knowing about his business comes with a whole other load of issues.

Goo Kim

What's the saying? If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen. Well if you can't stand this clown, get out the circus.

Fun, spontaneous, a little reckless, not too fussed about a little criminal damage or violence. Y'know, all the standard stuff you look for in a loving partner.

Needs absolute loyalty when it comes down to it, and to know you'll stay by his side. If you manage to get this guy to open up to you but break his heart and stab him in the back? Well sweetheart, I guess it is a dog eat dog world, but you better watch yours.

Gun Park

Look, everyone keeps talking about him needing a fighter and that is true. But it's not the be all and end all, he at least prefers someone that could take care of themselves. He's not the knight in shining armour type, but if push comes to shove then fine. After all, beating up people is one of his favourite hobbies.

If you can't fight then you should have other traits to make up for it as a minimum (street smarts, book smarts, whatever). He values competence above all else (look at how he treats his successors).

Independence is an absolute must. He's off terrorising god knows who most of his time, you can't just sit there waiting on him. It gets old, fast.

#lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism hc #jake kim #gun park #goo kim x reader #goo kim #johan seong #johan seong x reader #jake kim x reader #gun park x reader #lookism manwha #lookism webtoon #wannaeatramyeon

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starryluvs · 5 months

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3 universal laws to follow

1. Kidlin’s law:

A problem written is a problem halved. When you have a problem you’re constantly in your head and your mind eventually gets all messed up. When you write down the problem it becomes halved because say you wrote the problem down and it’s only a sentence long, then the solution should come up because a problem only a few sentences long should have a solution.

2. The butterfly effect

Even the smallest actions can have far-reaching consequences.

The effect is named after an allegory for chaos theory; it evokes the idea that a small butterfly flapping its wings could, hypothetically, cause a typhoon. The butterfly effect is part of chaos theory, which states that there are limitations to predictions even in small discrete systems.

3. The law of assumption

By assuming a positive outcome & adopting a confident attitude, you can influence your reality.

By expecting success and good things, success and good things come to you. This law highlights that, by believing the thing you want already exists in your life, you’ll manifest it into existence. This law highlights that, by believing the thing you want is already in your life, then you’ll manifest it into existence. “As we shift internally, the external world will respond”

xoxo,f

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ghouljams · 8 months

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Hang on. May I ask what Hush’s pronouns are ? Because I used she/her in my last ask (I’m still giggling like a school girl because of your answer it was so cute), but in another one I saw your refer to the demon as a « big brother figure », so I’m a bit confused and afraid I made a mistake… ?

To make this ask a little more worthwhile, I somehow imagined demon Price scolding the other demons the same way Captain Price would scold his team when they mess up something or do nonsense ? You know, I’m picturing the frown, the crossed arms, the military stance and the gruff voice. And the team looking at their demons and snickering when seeing how their Captain and his demon are so similar to each other sometimes.

Hush prefers he/him but all the demons will respond to any pronouns, and I will answer asks regardless of pronouns for them. So, no mistakes! I haven't had pronouns specified for anyone but Threat, and Hush hasn't had much written for him!

As for Price(the demon) scolding the rest of the demons, I agree, I think it happens more often than anyone would like to admit. But they also end up scolding the rest of the 141 with Capt. Price since the demons are technically their handler's responsibility. I think in the field it sounds a lot like 2 different comms channels talking through each other lol

"How's the perimeter?" Soap asks, checking out from behind cover.

"Holding," You hum, "Hey do you know what Price is yelling about?" Soap makes a face.

"Which one?" Soap pushes off the wall to sweep the room. You listen for a moment to the demonic yelling, muffling Soap's steps as you do.

"Both of them," You conclude. It sounds like both of them. Your commanding officers both markedly upset over something that you don't really have the patience to parse. You're busy making sure your charge stays alive long enough to make it to the demo point.

"Dunno," Soap says after a moment, you snap your silence around Soap's gun as he fires, no reason to give up position over one unlucky soldier, "Maybe someone did somethin'."

"That doesn't narrow it down. Someone's always done something," You tell him.

"Could be marital problems," Soap jokes. Now that's an idea. One you're happy to jump on.

"Mom and Dad are fighting," You laugh, shaking sound from the shadows to get a feel for who's nearby. Clear for the moment, and your silence is holding strong. Price is still yelling at you of the little connection you've established between yourself and your demonic companions. The human Price sounds like he's reflecting her annoyance over Soap's comms. Two halves of the same conversation neither of you are paying attention to.

"Alright I've got another one," Soap keeps his gun high as he slinks through the empty corridor.

"Hit me." You like this game, Soap's jokes aren't exactly high comedy but they're certainly entertaining.

"What do you call kids in the military?" He sweeps around a corner, and starts down a flight of stairs.

"No clue."

"Infantry-" You snort "-Got that one from Ghost," Soap smiles stopping at the tunnel entrance. Allegedly blowing this point should send the rest of it speeding towards collapse. Something about structural integrity that you weren't listening to. Soap knows what he's doing, you trust him.

He shoulders his bag off and sets it on the ground, quick to start pulling out wires and switches. You're passed a pair of wire strippers as Soap's movements start getting more purposeful. His brow furrows, he stops, leans back to look at what he's already pulled, then goes back to the bag.

"Fuck me," Soap groans digging through his bag, "we forgot the C4." You stare down at the open bag, the yelling from your COs suddenly making a lot more sense.

"Huh." You eloquently sum up. Soap sits back on his heels. He makes a face, looking down the tunnel as he thinks. You're not sure what to do to help, this isn't exactly your area of expertise. Soap drums his fingers against the canvas.

"Where's-" He starts, rethinks, and looks at you, "Where's the sound go when you do your magic stuff?"

"It doesn't go anywhere?" You raise a brow, it's not some crazy magic, more scientific than anything else. Soap stares at you, waiting for an explanation. You sigh. "I stop the sound waves from happening or compress them down enough they're barely audible. It's the same with people, I either compress the parts that move or their air supply, but I'm not physically stealing sound." You explain, "That would be crazy."

"Right that'd be way more mental than what you just said," Soap gives you a sarcastic sort of nod. He looks back at the dead detonators and switches and grabs a handful of wires. "New plan," He tells you, "I'm going to make a noise, you're going to make it bigger."

"Not really how I work," You frown, crouching next to him. He takes the wire strippers from you, already building his noise maker.

"What do you mean? You compress sound one way, I'd bet you can bump it up the other. Just need the waves big enough to cause some damage." Soap frowns twisting two wires together. You don't know, you don't think he's wrong but you've never made sound louder. No one's ever wanted things louder.

You don't have time to run a trial run, but you suppose the pressure of an active combat zone is as good a time as any to experiment. You've done stupider things. You can't think of any right now but you're sure there must be something stupider you've done.

Soap glances at you, for being the king of quiet you don't usually go this long without talking. That's one of the reasons you get along so well, the banter just keeps going. He looks back at his work, if you're quiet he's sure it's for a good reason. Now, he doesn't know for sure that his science is sound, but the fact that you're giving it any consideration is enough for him. It at least buys Soap a little time to try and come up with something else. Maybe he should radio Price, see if his demon can send over some black powder.

"Ok," you tell him just as he gets the sound grenade hooked up, "Let's try it. Sub-sonic, super-sonic, it's all sound right?"

"Close enough," Soap grins. He tosses you a spare switch and watches you click it a few times. The sound stutters, raising and plummeting just as quickly. You wince, click it a few more times with similar results. "If it doesn't work we tell Price and take the lecture," He assures you. If it doesn't work you'll both be fighting your way out with a lot of explaining to do.

"Ready?" He asks, setting the timer on the only idea either of you have come up with. You nod and hold your hands out.

"You might wanna get behind me in case this goes south fast." Soap nods, and tosses the makeshift noise machine into the tunnel. He tries not to think too much about how badly this could all shake out if this doesn't work as he takes cover.

It takes a moment the soft beep of the count down timer fluctuating as you grit your teeth and try to do whatever it is you're doing. You understand this stuff better than Soap, or he fucking hopes you do. Because if you don't you're both fucked. One of the beeps pitches low, but it shakes the dirt. Your eyes widen, your lips moving with silent calculations.

"Hey, uh, might want to plug your ears Mactavish," You suggest over your shoulder. Soap is quick to snap his hands over his ears as the rolling wave of beeps gets bone quaking. The tone bouncing low and growing ever louder, reminding him of the shitty bass in that one tech song Gaz likes.

Everything goes quiet. Then the noise rushes in, explodes from the little beeper like a proper bomb. Buffeting the tunnel in a way that almost looks like the Jerry-rigged switch broke the sound barrier. Soap's never heard anything like it, and honestly he hopes he never has to again. It does the job though, shaking loose anything that could've been called a tunnel until it collapses in on itself. Even with the buffer of his hands there's a ringing in Soap's ears that doesn't bode well. You turn to grin at him, and when you speak it sounds like you're underwater.

But who cares when you grab his face and kiss him. A quick excited thing before you're shaking him by his shoulders. Were you always that warm? Were the callouses on your hands always that soft? Did you always smile so wide?

Your eyes dart towards the stairs and you tug at him to get his gun up. "We have to go!" You yell, near enough to his ear that he can mostly parse it.

"I think you shattered my eardrums," He yells, picking off the first soldier to come down the stairs to investigate. Later, he'll ask about the kiss later. For now you both have a job to do.

#cod x reader #x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john mactavish x you #soap modern warfare #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x m!reader #soap x you #soap x oc #oc: hush #Soap you're so smart coming up with ways to use your demon's powers #demon!darlings au #I think the demons have some sort of spectral com system #that the 141 doesn't really have access to

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huuoh · 3 months

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WILD THINGS MY FRIEND BLAKE HAS SAID ONLINE ( 1 / ? )

a mix of questions, statements, etc. nsfw included. / adjust as needed

❝ i'm sorry i'm down bad for women who can keep me in a cellar ❞

❝ fuck them kids bro , punt 'em ❞

❝ damn are you a parking ticket , cause you got FINE written all over you , aha ❞

❝ i sleep on my back so i can practice for my casket ❞

❝ 'tism and titties should be the first bullet on every marriage application ❞

❝ woof woof ❞

❝ it exploded . . . i fucking took off ❞

❝ i know that shit feel like when you open your window during a carwash ❞

❝ i'd rather hit my package with a ballpeen hammer ❞

❝ no problem, forehead ❞

❝ put a leash on him ❞

❝ manifesting wet socks for the lot of ya ❞

❝ that shit sounded like a grapefruit being rung out ❞

❝ we as a society need to start calling people poindexters again ❞

❝ my brain needs food it aint got no wrinkles on it ❞

❝ thicc ❞

❝ need me some of that stuffin' ❞

❝ ONCE AGAIN I AM TIRED OF LEAVES ❞

❝ if we see a cow we moo ❞

❝ if we see a deer we say OH DEER ❞

❝ ' it's grey sweatpants season ' ma'am if i wanted to display small things i would open a jewelry store ❞

❝ violently shitting myself due to being nervous ❞

❝ where does one aquire a steed ? ❞

❝ ARF ARF ❞

❝ this that type of cold that just piss you off ❞

❝ i'm tired of this grandpa ❞

❝ i found the best stick of the year ❞

❝ i fucking hate leaves. i wish all the trees a very bald ❞

❝ this aged like milk ❞

❝ let him cook ❞

❝ with how deep i sleep i need that mf alarm clock spongebob had ❞

❝ Ghost is just spooky bon jovi ❞

❝ butter up them cheeks boy ❞

❝ is it dangerous to fall asleep at night to videos about demonology lmao ❞

❝ i am making it a personal goal today to feel bonita ❞

❝ SHOW ME THE TIT ON AN ALMOND ❞

❝ y'all better hype me up like this when i get jiggy❞

❝ two halves of a whole idiot ❞

❝ a homie needs about 3 years worth of hugs ❞

❝ i got a canoe, don't make me pull up ❞

❝ YOU THE ONE THAT'S A KNOB SMHHH ❞

❝ holy hellfire i just had to walk a plaza the size of two football fields ❞

❝ yeah i ugly cried ❞

❝ girl dinner honestly ❞

❝ here lies [ name ] ' s hopes and dreams ❞

❝ i'm being held hostage ❞

❝ [ name ] don't even start the top of your head probably flat ❞

❝ my brother in Buddha LEAVE THE PREMISES ❞

#rp prompts #rp memes #rp ask meme #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #inbox memes

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bitterkarmaa · 7 days

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*KICKS DOWN YOUR DOOR* HI I HAVE MORE RAYS RAMBLES TO SHARE.

I hope i'm not bothering with more ramble because this boy gives me so many brain worms you have no idea- ANYWAY full disclaimer this is all headcanon i've got for him AND IF YOU DEEM IT NON-CANON THAT IS FINE 100% I AM FINE WITH IT! PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CORRECT ANY MISINTERPRETATIONS I'VE MADE!

SO-

I've made some slight hints toward it in my writing already and have only now worked up the courage to share it in full hjdkfg so- I'm kinda playing on a general DCA headcanon i have that DCA models mainly Sun and Moon ones need counterparts in order to basically function. Because that is how they were designed, two halves of a whole that were made to exist together.

So a Sun needs their Moon and a Moon their Sun. Or a Moon their Moon or a Sun their Sun. Eclipse's included! The main point is there's gotta be two (or more) DCA models who are 'imprinted' or 'bonded' in order to properly function (Ruin would be mostly exempt ofc due to the two being one)

NOW WHERE DOES RAYS COME INTO PLAY HERE? So as i rambled about on A03 in the comments of Canary and Crow, i had a headcanon that Rays had 'imprinted' onto Lord Eclipse because, he is technically a Sun who lost his counterpart, that being Moon. So baby Rays, fresh and new sees Eclipse - possibly still a DCA model himself before changing his form - and automatically imprints onto him!

And this ends up carrying over to KB Eclipse and again, possibly Veil too because they are both of the same/similar ai that Rays own code has logged as being his natural other half (and counterpart relations can be whatever really, siblings, friends, family, partners whatever but ofc in this situation its 100% family or siblings)

And this is why i've written Rays to be so attached to Eclipse and why he seeks his company first and foremost when he feels lonely. And again this could later extend to Veil too! (Because i have not forgotten that oneshot where Rays comforts Veil and mourns with him that broke me Shep IT BROKE ME- /pos)

Anyways thankyou for attending my ted talk i shall now disappear into the cosmos!

I love your rambles honestly- it astonishes me that I’ve made characters that people find are WORTHY of rambling about 🥹❤️ it means a lot to me that Rays means so much to some people :)

I could defiantly see Veil “imprinting” on Rays as a sort of younger brother, for sure! Veil has a lot of emotions that he doesn’t understand and Rays being so gentle and patient with him would really give him brownie points in Veil’s eyes.

The drabble with Rays and Veil mourning was meant to be a sort of introduction into how both of them are accepting that vulnerable side of themselves that they’ve tried to ignore for so long, which would foster a sense of security for Veil since he’s still learning how to let people in (he’s still ahead of Eclipse on that one though LMAO) and accept that he’s ALLOWED to be different from Eclipse. He is, quite obviously, a lot more open-minded than Eclipse is. He may not ENJOY negative emotions, but he’s willing to learn and experience them in order to become a better person.

Eclipse…is not.

The main difference between Veil and Eclipse is that Veil is actively trying to better himself, while Eclipse is doing it without realizing and still has violent, sociopathic urges that others use as reasons to avoid him or discredit the progress he HAS made. Except for Rays, which is why Eclipse has a certain fondness for him, and tries to reign in his frightening tendencies in order to stay on his “good side.”

Rays knows Eclipse is struggling with something, but is too afraid to push it or ask questions.

Eclipse wants to do better for Rays, so he keeps his problems to himself in order to avoid scaring him.

Veil wants to understand himself in order to prove he can be different from Eclipse.

It all goes in cycles between the three, which is why their dynamic is going to be so interesting and unique when their arc begins later on, after Veil is introduced into the main storyline.

Do with this what you will :)

#karma’s bitter #karmas bitter but so am i #karma answers #karma speaks #kb lore #kb rambles #kb speaks #kb eclipse #kb rays #kb veil

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tranakin-skywalker · 5 months

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20, 21, 22 for anakin for the ask game?

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

I feel like Obi-Wan is the easy answer here (doesn't mean it's not true though, two halves of a whole warrior- yadayada. They are so mentally ill about each other but separate them and everything breaks)

Goddamn this is a lot harder to answer than I thought it would be. The problem with Anakin is he doesn't really have friends. He'd got people he's friendly with, certainly, but those seem more like familiar acquaintances than real friendships. Anakin jumps straight over the friendship stage and right into insane codependent batshittery. There is no in-between. If you're going to be buds with Anakin Skywalker you have to be chill with him dropping the fact that he will gladly burn down the entire galaxy for you into casual conversation. That's not a thing for the faint of heart.

Now that I think about it though, Anakin and Sabe as BBFs would be really fun (I am maybe feeling shrimp emotions over the 2020 Darth Vader comics. Just a bit.) Canon gave them a rocky reintroduction but I think if Sabe had been brought in on the whole secret marriage thing, she and Anakin could have really hit it off.

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

I don't think this is something that's really shown up in anything I've published yet, but I think it's really really fun to make Anakin do domestic stuff, because there is something just so off about it. He is entirely incapable of doing Normal People things because of his general Everything. Like, I don't think this is a guy capable of doing normal housecleaning. Instead, he is going on a 3 am spiral deep cleaning the bathroom floor with an old toothbrush because he did something that his poor hell brain interprets as some great moral failure (broke Obi-Wan's mug on accident) and this is the only way to make it right. Trauma of being a child slave, you know?

Like holy shit, the neurosis of this guy make is so that every little thing he does has this extra layer of 'what the shit??' intensity behind it. I think that's fun.

Something I dislike having to do (at least 4/5 times) is figure out how to write his dialogue. Sometimes it comes pretty easy but half the time I'm wondering if I'm writing his lines in character. His dialogue is just all over the place, so it's hard to know. Guy says "You are in my very soul, tormenting me," full pussy. Which is, ya know, something I have to keep in mind.

Honestly my quick cheat is to come up with the most autistic delivery of what I want him to say and I'm usually golden lmao

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don't like?

When people write him smart. Like, holy shit, I don't think there's a bigger turn off for me when reading a fic as when the author makes Anakin an idiot. This is a character who is scary smart both in a traditional sense, but also tactically. Child fucking prodigy material. I really appreciate it when a fic acknowledges his intelligence.

And (maybe controversial take??) I think he's actually very emotionally aware, both of his own emotions and of the people around him. He just has a hard time translating that awareness into appropriate action. I think he's deeply in tune with what other people are thinking and feeling (maybe too much), it's just when it comes to actually doing something about that where he fumbles hard.

Fics that treat Anakin like he's completely oblivious to the emotions of other people just rub me the wrong way.

#sorry i was at work all day yesterday so i'm only now able to answer these

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nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 11 months

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could you please give me a care guide for the common bread tag (Palpatophora utiliformis)? I am looking to keep one as a pet but I don't know where to start! there's not much information on how to care for them on the internet!

Many thanks for the message.

Here's a care sheet for the Bread Moth, adapted from the care sheet for the Fall Webworm (by Andy Jackson):

Where to buy: A bread moth is a pest. Do not buy it from a pet store. If you find a stray one, that is a different story.

Enclosure: Build a house out of bread. Cut a whole loaf in half and use the pieces to make a dollhouse. Then put the halves together (upside-down), and use the bread pieces as a roof. If you make more than one house, use a bagel or another type of flat bread.

Temperature: Don't worry about this one.

Humidity: Humidity is how much moisture is in the air. Just put your bread in the kitchen and it will turn out fine.

Nutrition: They feed on bread, bread products, and cardboard. As a pet, they will most likely feed on nothing but bread, but if you feel that the bread they are eating is not filling enough, they can be fed baked goods of your choosing.

Handling: When putting the moth into its enclosure, make sure that you do not crush or cut it. As with most bugs, you should be gentle with it.

Cleaning: If you notice that your bread moth is dirty, or needs cleaning, simply feed it a fresh loaf. A clean bread moth is a happy bread moth. If the bread moth is too dirty and has to be washed, make sure to lay it down on a paper towel and use the water on the paper towel to wipe it down. It's ok if it is a little damp when you lay it back down, but make sure not to make it wet.

Health: Health problems are usually non-existent. You will know if the moth is not healthy if it does not eat. Watch out for infections though. The bread moth can get infections from little critters like spiders, mites, and mold.

Venom: They have tiny poisonous fangs and if you get bitten they will leave a little tooth mark on you. The wound will hurt, but if it is small enough it will probably not cause any major harm.

Venom effect: You will feel a little hot, your heart might go a little fast, and you might feel woozy. It will not kill you, so don't worry!

Other: Is it a carnivore, herbivore, or a nomivore? It is most likely a carnivore, since the moth will eat just about anything, but you can feed it any type of bread product or baked good.

Training: There is no need to train this animal. Just let it eat.

Your bread moth:

Is a munch munch moth

Is a diurnal moth

May or may not carry disease

Tastes good

Can be trained

Your piece of advice:

Acquire a bread moth. Keep it fed. Your life will be easier.

This article was written in 2009 by:

#fasciation-fascination

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recurring-polynya · 6 months

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Writing/Art Update 11.7.2023

Last week, I said I wanted to finish Chapter 3 this week, and I did it, I finished Chapter 3. It ended up being slightly easier than I thought because one of the scenes I thought was only half done was actually done. Then it ended up being slightly harder than I thought, because I was writing a scene and I was really struggling with it and decided that I needed to write one of the scenes from Chapter Four first, so I did that. Weirdly enough, this actually worked. It also means I got a scene from Chapter 4 done, although it feels a little off to me, so it may need some more work. I am very much in "just get something down on the page" mode, though, so it's fine. It's good.

Wordcount: 28,968 (+5,669/4,826 new)

I was busy with a lot of stuff this week, and it didn't feel like I had a lot of time to write, but I actually wrote a lot! I think I've actually gotten a little manic about this fanfic, in the sense that I feel driven to work on it all the time without actually, um, liking it? I mean, I have almost no feelings on it, aside from I Gotta Do It. It might be good. It might be back. That's none of my business. I told myself that after Chapter 4, if I wanted to, I could send it to the beta. Unfortunately, in order to do that, I gotta read it myself, first, and I'm not sure I'm emotionally prepared for that. So it sits in this Schroedinger's state of ::pigeon guy:: Is this...garbage? but I am trying not to think about that.

Anyway, I'm ahead of myself, I gotta finish Chapter 4 first. Unlike some of the other chapters, I don't have very much of Chapter 4 already written. I'm not really sure how it's gonna go, because the first scene of the chapter feels like it should really be the last scene of a chapter, but that's just the way it's going to be (unless it really isn't working and then I have to figure something out). On one hand, I think it's reasonable to give myself two weeks to write Chapter 4. On the other hand, it's already 4,600. On the third hand, there are seven scenes on the outline and only 1 and two halves of them are written, so maybe I really am going to have to figure something out. But that's this week and next week's problem.

I did not draw anything this week, either. I feel like maybe I should try to, but I really just want to let I-Gotta-Do-It brain cook for as long it can.

#writing update #art update

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welcometothejianghu · 11 months

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I can't actually recommend Psych-Hunter, as it's not, strictly speaking, what you'd call good. It has, however, made us laugh out loud several times, and a lot of the visuals are really clever, and it's got to know what it's doing with how gay it's making those main boys (to say nothing of the police captain and that little cop who totally has a crush on him). It's weird and it's fun, and if you're looking for a thing to watch, you could do a lot worse!

NOTE: The preceding paragraph was written before I watched the last episode.

Look, this show is a hot mess. Let me break it down:

The good: some amazing visuals; excellent costuming (like, even when it's ugly, it's still good?); delightfully batshit worldbuilding decisions; fun short-arc mysteries; hella gay bromance; delicious boy tears; incredibly endearing secondary cast; great Psychonauts-esque plot device; some gorgeous mindscapes done with (mostly) practical effects; did I mention those two boys are real gay for one another?

The bad: little to no narrative cohesion; terribly bad pacing; high body count, especially of ladies; a couple inexplicable heel turns; when the CG is there, it's not great; plenty of unintentional comedy; most overarching mysteries remain completely unsolved.

The ugly: het romance that swings between just plain boring and outright skeevy; absolutely no grasp of the female lead's character; and of course, all the shit it pulls in the last episode.

...But obviously I found the whole mess still pretty compelling despite the flaws, considering I've just written like 1500 words of a Tumblr post that barely anybody else is ever going to read about it! So, uh, maybe that's an endorsement? I can't tell anymore.

Most of those words are beneath the cut, starting with the vaguely spoilery thoughts -- the ones you can read without spoiling yourself for the whole show. I'll mark when the big ones are coming up.

The good and the bad are, I think, somewhat self-explanatory. I want to talk about the ugly a bit, though.

The first two are actually two halves of the same problem. As a character, as she is written, Yuan Muqing sucks. Her entire personality is "whatever we need The Girl to be doing in this scene." She swings from Strong Independent Woman to Damsel In Distress to Spunky Female Police Officer to Spoiled Rich Schoolgirl to Giggling Love Interest with no sense that there should be any consistency between these states. Every detail of her life disappears the second it's not immediately relevant to the plot. She is a selection of two-dimensional objects chosen on a scene-by-scene basis to compliment whatever else is going on around her. I guess you could excuse this by [insert spoilers for the last episode here], but for that to work, the show would have to give off any sense that it understood her characterization was bad in the first place.

Whatever they could have done with the het romance was pretty doomed to fail from the start by having her be so badly written. (There are a few very cute moments they have later on, when they write her like an actual person, but it's too little too late.) She and Jiang Shuo already have little to no actual chemistry together, and the majority of their relationship is artificial overreaction-and-miscommunication conflict. And as though that weren't bad enough, the show keeps making it skeevy by making her so young. She's a high school student who has a very little-girl room, complete with dolls she talks to and petulantly punishes when she has tantrums. Many of her hairstyles and outfits also run young. Nobody gets a canonical age, but she's clearly a teen while both boys seem well into their twenties. The age gap does the relationship no favors.

Worse, the romance largely nukes her relationship to Qin Yiheng. When the show starts, they at least interact with one another, even if it looks like the show's going to get a "girl can't decide which boy she likes!" dynamic going with the main trio. Very quickly, though, she needs to be only The Love Interest for Jiang Shuo, meaning that she barely talks to Qin Yiheng for the whole rest of the show. Even when all three are onscreen together, those two might as well each be invisible to the other. They're not really a triangle -- they're a hinge, and the non-Jiang-Shuo points don't touch.

All that being said, there is such potential in her, and like 95% of that potential comes from the fact that the girl is obviously insane. Beyond even her canonical delusions, That Girl Ain't Right. Everything she does is so much better if you imagine there's a full-on roomba with knives simmering just beneath her bippy, ponytailed surface. She has to be Generalissimo Daddy's good little girl, when deep down she wants to do violence. That's great.

Some of the early promo materials I've seen make mention of how she's supposed to be the muscle of the operation. I wish they'd been far more consistent about that! She should absolutely be the party tank, bounding away from danger with a boy under each arm. All of the "oh no, Muqing got kidnapped/held hostage/threatened!" beats should have been responded to with a shrug.

But of course, it doesn't matter, because...

****MAJOR SPOILERS START HERE****

...it's not real.

Nearly none of it is real. There are two real people in the show, and everyone else is imaginary. Everything Jiang Shuo feels about her is completely one-sided, because she doesn't exist.

I am not categorically opposed to the final plot twist. I actually think, thematically, it makes a fair amount of sense, given how many other dreamscapes and mind-dives we've seen. What I'm opposed to is having it drop in the final episode, when there's no time to deal emotionally with any of it. If you wanted to pull that Inception shit, you should've done it at least halfway through the series. Give poor Jiang Shuo multiple episodes to deal with the truths that a) everyone he loves (minus one person) is a figment of his imagination, b) he is ultimately the one responsible for the horrors he has created, and c) he will have to decide in the end whether to live in the delusion or to destroy it by leaving. Let him wrestle with what he knows vs. what he feels. Give him plenty of time to deal with his guilt about what he's done to Qin'er. That would be delicious. That's not what we got.

Also, you've got to telegraph it, like, at all. As it is, I wondered for a while there whether something weird/bad happened, the real last episode got destroyed, and they had to hastily film an alternate ending. I am all but certain, on reflection, this is not what happened. There are just enough clues planted earlier that, yeah, I'm pretty sure this was the end they meant all along.

Which was such a bad decision. You know all those mysteries you were interested in, the ones driving the plot? Congratulations! You're never going to know! And it's not because the show got canceled or otherwise truncated -- no, it's because the show decided to tell you outright that those mysteries were never meant to be solved. It's a riddle that never had an answer in the first place.

I said at the time that the end feels exactly like an anime that got too far ahead of the manga, ran out of source material, and had to cobble together an ending that wouldn't spoil the manga's eventual logical conclusion. That's not quite what happened, but it's exactly the vibe.

(Not to get too spoilery of other properties here, but yeah, you realize this was the same guy who made Sand Sea, and that actually makes a lot of sense. Speaking of things that ran out the source material...)

My instinct is to tell people not to watch the last episode, to just stop at the end of 35 and make up your own stories about what comes next, but ... you kind of have to see it to believe it. It's worth it for the sheer audacity that would consider this a good ending.

I've seen plenty of people on various sites saying they loved the ending while clamoring in the same breath for a second season. No, friends, you're having the same reaction I did -- you know a twist like that should not be a last-minute drop. It's not a setup for anything; it's what happens when you can't stick the landing, so you throw out a bunch of impressive-sounding nonsense while pretending that was what you'd meant to do all along. A second season wouldn't solve the mysteries, because the show has declared that not only won't they be solved, they weren't even mysteries in the first place. They were fancy shiny meaningless things that made the plot go, and you were stupid for being invested in them.

And by "mysteries" here, I mean the actual things that are being held up as mysterious and in need of a solution, like Liu Zhi's identity and the Yin River treasures and what happened to Papa Qin. I don't mean the things like wtf is going on with Moustache Dad and his weird semi-k*kistan flag -- because those are just fun bits of magical realism worldbuilding. Clearly this is all operating in some urban fantasy next-world-over scenario, where we're in, uhhh, Zhanghai, Zhina. It's real-world enough that we still have the British and the Japanese, but fake enough that whatever was going on with that hypnotism clock and the lake monster skeleton? Totally normal.

I guess that's part of what I find so frustrating, that it made such an interesting world to play around in ... and then took the cop-out "it was all a dream!" explanation. All the trauma and deaths you felt sad about? Irrelevant. All the friends in danger? Who cares! All the stakes you thought mattered? Meaningless. What, you want new stakes to care about? Well, we'd love to, but the last episode's ending. Bye!

Anyway! Frustrating but compelling! I have now burned so many more brain cells on this show than it deserves, and I will probably continue burning more for fanfic purposes. If you made it this far into this nonsense -- both the show and this post -- I salute you.

#psych hunter #house haunters #心宅猎人 #i made this #meta #rec post

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lidiacervos · 1 year

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hi.

not sure about you but sometimes i feel all these back and forth arguments from the shipwar is silly. a point made about one ship can easily be applied to another and so forth. people don't like to admit it but a lot of these ships (elriel, vassien, elucien and gywnriel) have a lot in common.

from your perspective what do you think makes elucien more likely than elriel? both couples don't really know each other and all of them have issues to work through. same with gywnriel and vassien. both don't have much onpage interaction but what makes gywnriel more likely than vassien in her eyes?

Hello!

Yes, that’s kind of life, if we think hard enough we can find a connection to most situations. I do think it depends on what one is arguing about though because these ships aren’t carbon copies of each other. If everyone would just focus on their own fandoms and leave others alone, no one would have to argue🙃 that I do find silly…

I agree that on one level e/riel, elucien and gwynriel are on a pretty even playing field because none of them interact much or truly know each other, disagree that vuci*n should even be factored in because there is no romantic context for them.

When you say “in her eyes”, you mean SJM? No way to know what she thinks, but I sure can tell you some of what makes me unconcerned with the possibility of elucien or gwynriel not being endgame.

SJM is a mates author, this is even more clear since hosab. Nessian being mates was unnecessary to the story yet she made them mates anyway. Until SJM gives us a main couple that breaks the pattern, I’m going assume that mates are still very important in her worlds and a signifier of endgame.

That’s kind of all I need for elucien but a couple others things stood out to me too: the retcon of Lucien being Helion’s son is a big mc/mc adjacent storyline. Him having to deal with Graysen and even his friendship with Vassa(who Elain had visions about) connects him to Elain. Both of their associations with Spring and that there are problems there(ok this one might be wishful thinking). The fact that Elain and Lucien have both been sidelined and have such a strained relationship just screams “we have a book full of development coming”. Sarah said they would have “tension, healing and growth”. If they got along, I’d be worried.

Gwynriel was less obvious but still there in acosf. SJM giving the backstory that Azriel saved Gwyn added nothing to Nesta’s story. Hybern’s soldiers destroyed several places, Azriel didn’t have to be there but he was, gee I wonder why? Gwyn having that brazen sass with the stoic shadowsinger was another thing that made me go “huh”. The little sections referencing Gwyn watching Azriel or Azriel leaving to go over dagger handling, etc: more things that weren’t needed for Nesta’s story or could have been written differently. The way that there was more of a focus on Gwyn than other side characters(we know more about what goes on in Gwyn’s mind than Elain’s right now).

Honestly though the biggest example that shows gwynriel is more likely(and therefore elucien too) is Azriel’s chapter. No, bonus chapters have no effect on the books but Azriel’s chapter was a giant freaking neon sign from Sarah telling us where these relationships are heading. Azriel’s mind told us everything we needed to know. He’s been bottling up his anger and jealousy. He wants a mate, thinks the third sister should be his because of his brothers, he feels unclean and unworthy of Elain. He hasn’t thought about a future, just pleasure with her. Azriel’s not thinking rationally. We get to the Gwyn scene and it’s light and simple, a little funny, Azriel starts feeling better, his head is clearing. He finds himself thinking of making Gwyn happy. It ends with mate language! There is a ginormous contrast between the two halves of Azriel’s chapter and honestly the way SJM went about writing it was some of her best work imo.

Sooo this was my very long way of saying that sure, when it comes down to interactions they’re all equal, but looking beyond that is where people form their opinions.

#asks #elucien #gwynriel

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night-garden-fic · 6 months

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Interlude: Men of Flesh and Blood, Men of Paper and Dreams

(Read on AO3)

"I know it sounds cruel, but I never wanted to love you."

Interlude: Men of Flesh and Blood, Men of Paper and Dreams

Edward was a prompt, businesslike man by nature, and typically attended to his tasks the very minute they needed doing.

Except, that is for his charts and notations, which he intentionally allowed to pile up in his desk drawer, only properly sorting and filing them at the end of the week. It kept the daily flow of work steadier, and had become his preferred way of marking time. He also appreciated the way it allowed him to look at the week's various problems with fresh eyes, and the comfortable breathing space it allowed his busy, analytical mind; which often threatened, in its quiet way, to overflow its own container.

Admittedly, it was also an excuse to get a few peaceful hours to himself.

And so, at some indeterminate point after their quiet dinner, he and Camus mumbled their familiar, absent-minded goodnights—always a bit terse, but somehow comforting in their gravelly, murmurous simplicity—and parted ways; Camus into heavy working-man's sleep, and Edward to his comfortable desk, where he would bask in the gentle lamplight as he ran his neighbor's lives through his nimble fingers for the thousandth time.

On this quiet night, he laid his coat over the back of his chair, sat down, and stretched luxuriously before pulling out his stack of papers. Edward knew that some would think it strange, how he unwound by doing more work, but it was simply how he operated. His practice and his life were as one, and it never strayed far from his mind.

If it were any other way, I'd have chosen a different career.

All things considered, the week had not been a particularly eventful one.

Zavier—the innkeeper's son—cut his finger while carelessly playing with a new utility knife, but it hadn't needed stitches. Raguna—the young farmer—had been bitten by one of his own Woolies, and came in on his wife's insistence. Though the bite hadn't broken the skin, Tori could be a bit of a worrywart, and wanted him to be cleansed with some proper disinfectant. As he imagined how this scene must have played out down at the farm, Edward couldn't help but chuckle in spite of himself at the odd pair.

Polar opposites, them. Like two halves of one heart.

Moving on, he took a few moments to savor the conspicuous absence of Felicity; who had been a near-constant presence—in the Clinic and in his notes—until he took that strange cursed stone off her and witnessed her near-spontaneous recovery.

Satisfied with his work, Edward placed each page in the appropriate file. All told, it had been a stretch of relatively painless days, filled with minor blunders and easy resolutions.

Except for...

He held the final chart in his hand, feeling a bit unsettled.

�� ...Russell.

With whom, he knew, resolutions almost never came easily.

When, pray tell, had we last managed to truly resolve anything at all?

Certainly, they hadn't on the day he'd written up in the chart before him, which felt all the more dense and puzzling for what it didn't contain.

Edward saw the normal vitals, the lingering cough; the complaints of insomnia, the denied prescription, all written out in his scrawling black hand. The skittering uneasiness of a human life, preserved in the amber lamplight like the legs of ancient insects, still and absolute.

But, reading over his notes, he didn't remember stillness. He remembered the rising frustration in both their voices, the close air around them seeming to crackle and spark, how he reached out before he even realized what he was doing.

The way Russell's shoulder trembled under his hand, and the persistent voice in his head: "Go to him. Hold him."

And then, his rational mind's steady reply: "Not my scope of practice."

It would have been strange—and frankly, useless—to embrace a patient in a medical context.

Edward knew this well. He wasn't a priest, and couldn't cure Russell with the laying on of hands. But it felt almost worse to do nothing, so he awkwardly split the difference with a mild anti-inflammatory and a few friendly words.

"Be well."

As though it were something he could command. As though, given such divine power, he wouldn't have already made it so. He said it knowing damn well it was hollow, and Russell...

(You let him down.)

...Well, who knows how he felt? Edward replayed the moment in his mind, but couldn't seem to figure it out.

All this time, and you're still trying to read that face.

Edward went to put the latest chart in its proper place, but decided instead to pull out Russell's thick folder, heavy with time and complaints.

~*~

I've made many choices I regret, and choosing to cleave you into thirds is certainly one of them.

(I'm sorry.)

(I thought it would be easier this way.)

Though, in all fairness, you never exactly presented me with a cohesive image, and it often feels as if I had to meet you thrice to really know you.

(If I yet do.)

The first time—or at least, the first time that felt proper to count—you presented me with your daughter.

She was healthy, pink, and perfect, and I wondered why you weren't more worried about yourself. You looked so wan and exhausted that I wanted to check you over right away, but something told me that if I tried to push you, you would never approach me again.

And I wanted you to feel safe to approach me; as both a patient and a neighbor. So I kept my touch light, and waited for you to slowly emerge.

Though introverted and somewhat skittish, you struck me as friendly and very bright, with a sense of languid calm that I found strangely magnetic. You loved talking about books, and about your efforts to reopen the old Library. And when I would go on at length about my ongoing medical studies, you would simply listen, the steely jaws of your mind latching onto every crumb and scrap of knowledge.

I got the idea that neither of us were really looking for friends, but we found each other all the same.

Our closeness, I suppose, was inevitable. You lived right next door, and our scholarly priorities set us both apart in this salt-of-the-Earth town. I began to look forward to our conversations, and to actively seek you out. You seemed a little confused—and unused to being sought—but you welcomed me anyway. I suspected you hadn't received enough affection in this life, and that there was a story there, but I couldn't quite figure it out what it was.

There was a lot about you that I couldn't quite figure out in those days.

Your face was soft and pleasant, but impassive, and I was never sure how you were feeling. There were great gaps in your past, which vague allusions to some murky military background only partially filled. Anyone could tell that you were hurting, but you wouldn't say why, and it felt wrong to press you.

To find out, I would have to meet you a second time.

And here's another regret: I'm sorry for not realizing that I met you in the middle of a breakdown.

By the time you finally came to the Clinic for yourself, I had already known you for nearly a year. You explained that you hated physicals, and wouldn't submit to one. But you were dating Sabrina, and she'd been pushing you to get your eyes checked for some time.

"She says watching me trying to read is giving her a headache."

You laughed nervously. I wanted to press you into a more thorough exam, but by then we were dear friends. I didn't want to do anything to betray your fragile, hard-won trust.

"Well, those glasses of yours look like they're on their last legs, so I'm glad you didn't wait until they fell apart on you. Let's just get this out of the way, hmm?"

You nodded weakly, but didn't reply. I dusted off my set of trial lenses and got to work, putting you through the tedious interrogation of worse-better-worse until we were both satisfied with the results. I wasn't trained as an oculist, so it was slow going, but you put up with it so well that it almost felt like a game.

"...So you'll send my prescription to an oculist you know in the Capitol?"

I put away the box of lenses.

"Yes. And Ivan will deliver your new glasses in about a month."

You donned the dilapidated, out-of-date spectacles you'd come in with.

"...Good. Good. I'll see you around, Ed."

Then you stood, swayed, and nearly collapsed. I caught you before you hit the floor, and guided you to the bed.

"You're seeing me now, Russell."

From the very beginning, you were one of the most uncooperative patients I'd seen since arriving in Kardia. But, by keeping my movements delicate and slow, I did manage to measure your vitals and coax out your history.

As I took your pulse, you accidentally revealed that you'd scarcely gotten a good night's sleep in over half a decade. When I gave you back your tongue after examining your throat, you gagged harshly and quietly explained that you were drafted at seventeen; into a particularly brutal frontline border conflict, where you wallowed in nameless trenches for nearly a quarter of your life.

I picked up my stethoscope, and you warily unbuttoned your shirt, revealing a jagged expanse of blue-white parchment skin.

"...Yeah, I took a pretty bad Dark spell a few years back. Now you know why I don't take off my shirt at the beach."

You tried to brush it off with a bitter little laugh, but I heard your heart racing.

To hear you tell it, your heart raced a lot back then. You flinched at sudden movements, had violent nightmares, and—when you slept at all—usually woke not knowing where you were. Unsure of what else to do, you had taken to drinking about it, a fact that you confessed with that same embittered levity.

I wanted to lecture you, but I didn't know what to do, either.

You had me lost somewhere between compassion and sick admiration.

(You reminded me of things I never wanted to think about again.)

It was plain to see that you were quickly developing some dangerous habits, but otherwise, you mostly seemed resigned to the fact that this was how things were going to be from now on. You had a daughter to raise, a library to curate, and a harsh past that was yours alone to deal with. I couldn't figure out if you were an undefeatable optimist, or just so beaten-down and despairing that you'd come out on the other side.

Somehow, I knew you weren't so sure yourself.

I showed you how to hold your head between your legs so you wouldn't get so dizzy when you stood, told you to try eating and resting a little more and drinking a little less, and sent you on your way.

The next afternoon, I stepped into the Library to return a book, and you greeted me with a familiar easygoing smile. As though I still had no idea what that smile might conceal.

And that was where the split began.

I was never quite able to reconcile the two images.

In the end, I decided that was probably for the best. Medicine requires compartmentalization, especially in such a small community. And—if you'll forgive me—apprehending all your brokenness at once made me feel vastly unqualified, as both a doctor and a friend. You needed so many things I couldn't give you, so it was all I could do to cut you into manageable halves.

This, of course, would have worked out better if there hadn't been three of you.

(If the third hadn't been the first.)

No matter how well I got to know you, as a dear friend and a difficult patient, I could never quite shake that first wordless impression.

Of who you were when you thought you were alone.

Nude, vacant, luminously pale. Suspended in fragrant water and steamy haze, staring at—or perhaps through—the high ceiling of the bathhouse with that beautiful daydream face of yours. Before we'd even spoken a word, you had captured my imagination.

And imagination, I told myself, was where it would end.

For a few years, I thought I had conquered that third-first image of you. It was terribly awkward when we filled out your paperwork and I learned you were barely twenty-five. But, before either of us knew it, you were pushing thirty; the decade between us growing ever more trivial, and visions of you once again haunting me through the long, lonely nights.

I know it sounds cruel, but I never wanted to love you.

As much as we enjoyed each other's company, I was terrified of being tied to a perpetual patient. And it wasn't as though, in such a small town, I had any hope of finding a lover who wasn't a patient, but I somehow knew things would be different with you; more relentless and oppressive.

Because you, Russell, always seemed to have one problem after another.

You weren't chronically sickly, like Felicity. Or a hypochondriac like Tori, or perpetually overworked like Godwin. You had just been through a lot, and I figured out early on that you weren't the best at caring for yourself. Your body wasn't being eaten away, but rather constantly nibbled at the edges by countless sharp little teeth; not exactly ill, but never quite well, never quite healed.

Never quite—in my rather uncharitable observation—allowing yourself to heal.

You seemed to expect me to heal you, and I suppose that wasn't all that unreasonable.

Though you remained hesitant and uncooperative, that first exam seemed to have broken some seal inside you, and I began to see you in the Clinic regularly; for protracted colds, twisted spines, unexplained malaise, sleepless weeks, three-day hangovers. The usual variety of petty agonies accumulated by ill-used, poorly-maintained bodies.

And, looming above it all, was that orb of elemental Darkness, the crackling sphere of life-sucking shadow that knocked you down so hard you couldn't get up for months. It seemed to have taken on a mythical quality in your mind; a metaphor of sorts for all that had really drained the life out of you.

I tried to explain that, while there was a small amount of clinical literature suggesting victims of strong Dark spells occasionally suffered mild melancholy and fatigue, along with somewhat slowed healing and impaired immunity—and that the trauma to your chest may have weakened your lungs and bronchi a bit—the main injury was to your mind, and only you could work to heal it.

But you were hopelessly hopeful, and couldn't compartmentalize at all. Indeed, you seemed to have faith that I could fix you simply because we were good friends.

And that, I'm afraid, was why I knew I couldn't love you.

(This, too, is a regret of mine.)

Though I deal with sickness daily, as a living and a calling, I somehow knew that you would wear me down; that your pleas for repair and petulant resistance to the process itself would exhaust the both of us. That it would drag us to unknown terrible depths, until I lost that prized compartmentalization entirely.

(I can't let it happen again.)

You cheery dismissiveness frustrated me. Your dire self-neglect scared me. Your constant stream of nagging maladies worried me sick.

Even so, there was no one I'd rather spend time with.

And that third dreamy image kept asserting itself in my mind.

Especially after you began presenting with strange, superficial injuries; a lazy, lurid filigree of damage, usually clustered around the shoulders and wrists, but often trailing across your arms and torso.

At first, it was just one more thing to worry about. I suspected blackouts, risky behavior, or even self-harm. Certainly, your history hinted at all three. I once had to pick slivers of glass out of your shredded right hand the morning after you'd taken a drunken swing at the bathroom mirror, and you had previously confessed to pulling your hair out in clumps during a bad fit of panic.

So I diligently noted every mark, every shaky change of subject, and every time you declined to take off your shirt.

Soon enough, a pattern began to emerge, but it wasn't at all what I had been expecting. And eventually, that pattern sealed itself not with a kiss, but with an unmistakable human bite mark, scandalously purpling the tender flesh just below your collar.

When I realized what was really going on, I was genuinely happy for you.

You were, it seemed, enjoying a shockingly intense sex life.

Something vital within you was waking up.

Relieved as I was, it was a little difficult to imagine. As captivating as I found you, you were such a quiet, cerebral, mousy-looking creature that—though I certainly managed—it could be difficult to picture you having sex at all; let alone the rough, sweaty, bruising sort of sex that you apparently preferred.

Of course, in time, my imagination did manage to catch up to reality, and it even began to make sense. Perhaps you just needed to be dragged, kicking and screaming, out of the fathomless recesses of your mind before you could begin to feel anything at all. And, if that was what it took, I was glad you had someone willing to assist you.

Once I understood, I stopped charting those purple-red constellations.

But I never stopped wondering.

I wondered about you; about what sounds your lover might coax from that pretty throat, and what colors exploded in your mind like gaudy flowers of pain. And I wondered about more abstract notions; about the uniqueness of each person's perception, and the meaning of pain itself. Something as ordinary as the soft sag of a threadbare collar, or a sleeve creeping up your delicate wrist, could open a thousand doors in my mind, lead me into a thousand realms of wild fantasy and philosophical inquiry.

I wondered what it all meant

And I wondered what it said about me, that I now felt more drawn to you than ever.

After all, those sensuous wounds represented what seemed, at first glance, like the diametric opposite of my own calling. But, after many long nights spent alternately cherishing and interrogating your treacherous third aspect, I eventually realized that wasn't so. It was merely another way of working on and with the body, of invoking its natural processes and responses for the benefit of one who cried out to be completed.

It was not an opposite, but a counterpart.

And, as such, it inspired in me a dark curiosity.

Could I bring myself to do such a thing? Could I defy the healer's impulse, and everything I'd been taught?

(Don't tell me you wouldn't do anything to fix him.)

I already knew the answer. Every time I asked myself that critical question, I received a barrage of vividly profane images; pale bruised skin, ice packs wrapped in the softest cloth, the dim quiet of a bedroom.

The satisfaction of damage that I knew how to heal.

~*~

Okay, I think it's time to pack it in.

The hour had grown late, and Edward's mind had gone strange. There was no more to be learned here, so he gently slid the file back into its proper place.

Goodnight, Russell. I hope you feel better.

Edward had wanted to put those strange thoughts to bed, as it were. But, as he readied himself for sleep, and as he lay awake in the dark, that third Russell refused to give him peace.

The thoughts and images themselves were not, of course, unpleasant. Yet still, they made his heart ache and his stomach twist, made his narrow bed feel that much colder, and empty of all that could never fill it.

You don't really want this.

(What do I want?)

He has such little regard for himself.

(He was ready to let himself be crushed.)

You've only ever seen him with women, anyway.

(But that doesn't really mean anything, does it?)

Stop. It hurts enough to watch him as it is.

As much as he tried to call up the second Russell, to summon that sad crumpled-paper man from the fat stack of charts, the third Russell still remained at the forefront; soft, luminous, blushing.

And—implicit in those tender violet-red constellations—ready for Edward to do anything to him.

It's not like you didn't almost say something, remember?

(Of course I remember.)

Edward remembered, the way one might remember a beautiful dream; the strangeness and sweetness of it all making the whole thing feel blurry and unreal, though the images themselves were still as sharp and singing as fine crystal.

A carefree, somewhat drunken late-spring evening. The glistening cobbles of the streets, white roses like dozens of little moons, and one big full moon overhead; witnessing them with the holy silence of a wise, mute mystic.

Russell, with his easy smile and poetic voice. Pale face upturned in wonder, diffusing its own share of that blue light. How the stars reflected in his glasses made him look at once ethereal and dazzled, like he'd stepped out of one of those old folktales where the magic was wild; where careless, beautiful princes were always finding themselves blessed or bewitched.

And Edward all the while thinking, I love you, I love you, gods, I love you; trying to keep please, let me kiss you, just this once from wending its way past the tip of his tongue and out of his wanting mouth.

Of course, in the morning, he was glad he'd kept his wits about him.

But a small part of him still wished that things had gone differently, wondered how that night would have played out if he'd done the reckless thing. And if the reckless thing had, indeed, been the right thing after all.

He'd never know, but he could imagine it just as vividly as he could remember that eerie, magic night.

And, for nearly an hour, Edward did just that.

Until sleep, dark and moonless, claimed him at last.

#rune factory #rune factory 1 #rf1 russell

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