#she has a pathological need to protect

[beastsovrevelation]

If it isn't my beloved celestial harpy, most holy Michael the Archangel herself (meaning, I turned this into proper line-art). ⚔ Good Omens has insulted her, but she will always be Supreme Commander of the Heavenly Host in my mind, and in my fics. I can only try to do her justice.

What do you think, should I colour it? It almost looks like a colouring page, I'm tempted to print it, and colour it with pencils or markers. ✏

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

sweet thing

part I

Pairing: Sam x Ruby x Innocent!Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam and Ruby have played the long game. And you're innocence is about to be lost.

Warnings: 18+!, language, manipulation, demon blood era Sam, Ruby is a warning by herself, corruption, coercion, praise, smut (dirty talk, kissing, fingering, oral/cunnilingus, overstim, p in v, spitting, threesome f/f/m), I may have missed some.

Word Count: 6,245

A/N: OH BOY. Zoe, my sweetpea, I hope you liked this one. I know I REALLY liked it... I'm sorry it's so long, but also... not sorry at all, aha. Anyways... give me some feedback, y'all. Please. I love when I get comments on things that come out of my very pathological brain. This was born because I'm ovulating. Shush. <3 I might write more Ruby stuff in all honestly, because... well, Ruby. RUBY SUPREMACY. All the love.

You didn't mean to stay with them.

At first, it was just a night. One blood-soaked hunt, too many screams, and Sam stepping between you and something you weren't ready for. He didn't say much—just pressed a cloth to your arm, asked your name in that quiet, steady voice, and told you it was going to be okay.

Ruby smiled behind him like she already knew it wouldn't be.

They brought you back to their motel room, patched you up with gentle hands and dark eyes, and you didn't leave the next day. Or the next. Or the one after that.

Two months later, you still didn't know why.

You told yourself it was safety. That the way Sam looked at you—soft and too-long—was protection, not possession. That Ruby's fingers brushing your thigh were comfort, not calculation. You convinced yourself they needed you.

But deep down, you knew the truth.

You were theirs. They had decided that long before you realised you had no choice in the matter.

They met you at your worst—bloody, shaking, stupid with adrenaline. Your first real hunt had gone sideways, and whatever experience you thought you had meant nothing when the claws hit skin. You should've died. You were ready to. But Sam was there, and Ruby moved like smoke, and the thing was gone before you even saw it clearly.

"Poor baby," Ruby had murmured, crouching beside you while Sam checked your wounds. "Too pretty to go out like that."

You'd flinched when she touched you, and she smiled like that was her favourite part.

You never asked why they took you with them. Sam had said something about keeping an eye on you, but his mouth twitched like it wasn't the whole truth. Ruby just grinned and said you were better off not knowing. You nodded. You didn't ask again.

At first, they let you come on hunts. Small ones. Salt-and-burns, poltergeists. Sam showed you how to hold a blade properly. Ruby taught you how to lie. You were good at both.

But over time, they started leaving you behind.

"It's too dangerous," Sam said.

"She's not ready," Ruby added, her hand stroking your back through the thin cotton of your shirt.

You didn't argue. You told yourself it was kindness. That they were protecting you. That it wasn't about keeping you soft.

But then came the looks. The touches. The nights where Sam would come back covered in blood, eyes sharp with something feral, and Ruby would kiss his knuckles while you watched from across the room, trying not to shake.

They never made you watch. But they never really let you look away, either.

They talked about him sometimes.

Dean.

You only ever caught the name in whispers. "He wouldn't understand."  or,"Dean would've stopped this." or, "Dean's gone." Always followed by a pause. Always followed by Ruby looking at Sam like she was daring him to fall apart.

You didn't know who he was. You didn't ask.

Every time you got too close to the door, every time you hovered outside just long enough to hear more, one of them would call out like they felt you there.

Sam's soft: "Baby?"

Or Ruby's syrupy: "Sweet thing, come here."

You always obeyed.

Sometimes, when they thought you were asleep, Sam would sit at the edge of your bed and run his hand down your hair. Just once. Just enough to make your breath catch. Sometimes, Ruby would slip under the covers beside you and whisper nonsense until you drifted off—half-lullaby, half-possession.

You weren't sure when it stopped being strange. You only knew that when they were gone too long, your chest felt empty. And when they came back, you'd breathe again. You weren't stupid. You just didn't know how to leave.

The rain started two hours ago.

It tapped against the window in slow, steady beats, like a clock winding down—like something counting out the seconds until they came back. You sat curled on the end of the bed in your pyjamas, legs pulled up, sleeves hanging past your wrists. The television glowed faintly in the dark, but you weren't watching. You hadn't really watched anything in days.

You just waited. You always waited.

The door creaked open a little after midnight.

Sam came in first, wet to the shoulders, eyes shadowed and far away. Blood soaked one sleeve of his shirt. You didn't ask whose. Ruby followed behind him, skin shining with water, hair stuck to her cheeks like tendrils.

She smiled when she saw you. Not kind. Not cruel. Just... like she already knew.

"Still awake, baby?" Her voice was smoke and candy.

You nodded. Sam didn't say anything. He locked the door behind them, set his knife down on the table like he was placing something sacred. You watched his hands—big, veined, careful. Ruby peeled off her jacket and let it drop to the floor.

"Poor thing," she murmured, walking past him. "All alone in the dark. Bet you were scared."

You opened your mouth to protest, but she was already kneeling in front of you, wet fingers brushing your knee where your pyjama shorts had ridden up. Her touch was cold. You shivered.

"Didn't like being away from us, huh?"

Sam sat down in the chair across from the bed, his legs spread wide, elbows on his knees. His eyes never left you.

"She hates it," he said softly. "I think she's scared we won't come back."

You looked down, cheeks burning.

"I'm not—"

"It's okay," Ruby cooed. "You should be scared. There's bad things out there, sweet girl. Things that want to hurt you. But we'd never let that happen." She leaned closer, nose brushing your jaw. "You know that, right?"

You nodded. Her hand slid higher on your thigh.

"You're a good girl."

There had been... moments.

Once, in another town, Ruby had let you sleep against her in the back of the car, and you'd woken to find her fingers in your hair and Sam's eyes on your legs in the rearview.

Once, when you'd had a nightmare, Sam had pulled you into his lap, shirtless and half-asleep, and you'd felt him hard under you. He didn't move. He didn't stop either.

Once, Ruby had kissed your neck while laughing at something Sam said, and you'd gone stiff all over, heart beating like you were running from something. But she only giggled and said, "So easy to fluster. It's adorable."

You weren't sure when your body had stopped listening to you. Or when the idea of leaving had started to sound like dying.

Ruby climbed up behind you on the bed now, curled against your back, legs bracketing yours.

"You've been so patient with us," she whispered against your neck. "Hasn't she, Sam?"

He hummed low in his throat, eyes raking down your frame.

"She's always good," he murmured. "Even when she doesn't understand."

Your breath caught. Ruby kissed just behind your ear.

"Do you want to understand, baby?"

You nodded before you knew what you were agreeing to.

Ruby smiled against your skin. Sam stood slowly, crossing to the bed, and the air changed—thickened. You watched him the whole way, your lips parting when he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your cheek.

"We'd never lie to you," he said, low and warm. "But there are things you're not ready for. Things that would scare you."

"We keep you soft because we love you," Ruby added, her hand sliding up your arm. "Don't you like being soft for us?"

You swallowed hard. "I... I think so."

Sam's mouth curled at the corner.

"That's our girl."

He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead—so tender it made your eyes sting. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

"You don't have to think so," he whispered. "You just have to be."

They didn't kiss you that night. They didn't touch you like that. But Ruby held you in bed, and Sam sat in the chair until morning, watching. His hands didn't stop shaking. You didn't ask why.

You dreamt of red eyes and whispered names and Sam's voice saying, "She's ours. No one touches her but us."

You woke up aching and didn't know why.

They thought you were asleep. You were supposed to be. The lights were off, your hoodie was still warm from Ruby's perfume, and you'd curled up like always—safe and small beneath too many blankets in too big a bed.

But something about the way they said "we need to talk" had twisted in your chest.

Ruby's hand had been gentle on your back as she whispered to Sam that they'd take the room next door. Just for a bit. Just to "talk business." You'd nodded sleepily, like a good girl. Like someone who didn't immediately sit up the second the door clicked shut.

Now?

Now you were barefoot on the cheap motel carpet, heart fluttering, palm pressed to the adjoining door like it might burn you.

It was cracked open. Just an inch. Just enough.

Their voices leaked through, low and urgent.

"She's not ready," Sam was saying. His voice was strained—tired, fraying at the edges. "She's barely holding on as it is. If we push too hard—"

"She's perfect, Sam." Ruby's voice was velvet and smoke. "She's soft, scared, completely dependent. She'd do anything you asked."

Silence.

Then Ruby again, slower this time. Sharper.

"You think you're protecting her by waiting. But you're just dragging it out. You're making her confused. She doesn't know what you want. And she's starting to wonder."

Something slammed—maybe his hand against the table, maybe his fist against the wall. You pressed your hand tighter to the doorframe, mouth dry.

"She's pure." Sam again. Quieter. Like it hurt to say. "She trusts us. I don't want to ruin that."

"You already have." Ruby's tone turned sweet. "And she loves you for it."

You swallowed hard. And then—just as your breath caught and you started to step back—

"She's here."

Your blood turned to ice.

"She's listening."

Ruby opened the door before you could run.

She stood framed in soft yellow light, one shoulder bare, hair tumbling over her collarbone. Her lips curved when she saw you—like a cat catching something small and trembling.

"Hi, baby."

Your voice caught. "I—I didn't mean to—"

"Of course you didn't," she purred. "Come here."

You hesitated.

Her fingers extended slowly. Her voice softened into something intimate and honey-warm.

"You don't have to listen at the door, sweet thing. If you want to know what we're talking about, you just have to ask."

You stepped forward before you meant to. Her hand curled around yours and tugged you gently into the room.

Sam was standing beside the table, hands braced on the wood like he'd been holding himself up. His eyes met yours—and he looked wrecked. Pupils blown wide. Jaw clenched. Like you'd caught him mid-sin.

"She shouldn't—" he started, but Ruby cut him off.

"She should."

She brought you closer, her body warm behind yours as she pressed you into Sam's line of sight.

"You want to protect her?" She whispered, lips ghosting your ear. "Then stop pretending she doesn't already belong to us."

Sam exhaled hard. His gaze dropped—your bare legs, the hem of your sleep shirt, the way your breathing had turned shallow.

"We're not trying to hurt you," he said hoarsely. "You know that, right?"

You nodded. You meant it. Your voice trembled anyway.

"I trust you."

Ruby made a pleased sound behind you. Her hands skimmed your waist, resting low on your hips.

"Good girl," she murmured.

You felt her smile against your neck.

"That's all we've ever wanted."

They didn't kiss you. Not yet. But Ruby turned you around in her arms, pressed your forehead to hers and said:

"You're already halfway gone, baby. Just let go."

Sam stood frozen, fists clenched at his sides. You didn't see the moment he stepped forward—but you felt it. The heat. The pull. The weight of him.

"We'll take care of you," he whispered. "You don't have to think anymore. You just have to be ours."

You closed your eyes and nodded. You didn't understand what was wrong with Sam—but something was.

His chest was rising too fast. His jaw clenched and unclenched like it was wired too tight, and his eyes... his eyes looked wrong. Black-ringed, glossy, so blown out you could barely see the colour. He looked at you like he was starving.

Like he'd been starving for a while.

Ruby was calm. Radiant. She moved with syrup-slow precision, curling one hand around your wrist and bringing it to her lips as she smiled at Sam.

"She's so good for us," she murmured. Her breath was warm against your skin. "Aren't you, baby?"

You nodded before you even knew what you were agreeing to.

Sam made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. His fists tightened where they hung at his sides.

"Ruby..." he said low, like a warning.

But she just giggled—light, pretty, dangerous.

"She wants this," she said simply. "You think I haven't seen the way she watches you? The way she trembles when you say her name?"

She turned toward you, brushing a finger along your jaw.

"Don't you want to be touched, sweet thing?"

You couldn't speak. You could only nod again, your lips parted, breath shaky. You felt like your whole body was made of heat and nothing.

Ruby kissed you before you could think.

It wasn't soft—not really. It was slow, but insistent, her mouth warm and firm against yours. Her hands gripped your waist like she owned you. Like she had every right. Her tongue slipped past your lips and you gasped into it, your knees going weak, clinging to her shirt like it might save you.

When she pulled back, you were dizzy.

"See?" She said sweetly. "So easy."

She led you backward, fingers laced in yours, and gently sat you down in the worn motel chair by the window. The fabric was cold under your bare thighs.

Sam hadn't moved. He stood like a statue at the foot of the bed, chest heaving, eyes locked on yours like he couldn't look away.

"Sit," Ruby told him, her tone turning just slightly firmer.

And he did.

She guided him down until he sat at the edge of the bed—his legs spread, boots still planted on the carpet. He looked massive, ruined, caught in the middle of something he couldn't name. His hands gripped the edge of the bed like he was afraid to touch anything.

Ruby turned back to you, lips wet, cheeks flushed.

"Watch closely, baby."

She climbed into Sam's lap in one slow, fluid motion, straddling him. His hands hovered at her sides like he was afraid to hold her. But Ruby leaned in, close to his ear, speaking words too soft for you to hear.

Then she turned her head to look at you—smiling. Like this was all a show, and you were the only audience that mattered.

"He's so worked up, poor thing," she purred. "Do you want a turn?"

Your breath caught.

"You wanna be a good girl and help us feel better?"

You nodded, your thighs clenching together on instinct.

Ruby kissed Sam then—messy and deep, her fingers in his hair. He groaned into it, hands finally finding her hips. She rocked against him once and his whole body jerked.

"Fuck," he muttered, voice shredded. "Ruby—"

She pulled back and looked at you again.

"Come here, sweet thing."

You stood on shaky legs.

"Take my place," she whispered, climbing off him slowly, deliberately, dragging her fingers down his chest. "Be good."

You moved without thinking.

Sam's eyes were wild when you stepped between his knees—dark and blown, lips parted. His hands hovered, not quite touching.

Ruby slid behind you, her arms around your waist as she guided you down—down into his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs, your breath coming short and fast.

"That's it," she whispered, lips against your ear. "Feel how hard he is for you? How much he wants you?"

You whimpered, your thighs tightening as she rocked your hips forward once—slow, grinding you down against him.

Sam's head dropped back with a groan.

"Ruby—fuck, she doesn't—"

"She wants to," Ruby said. "Don't you, baby?"

You nodded helplessly.

"Say it," Ruby coaxed. "Tell him you want to make him feel good."

Your voice was barely a breath.

"I want to make you feel good..."

Sam's hands finally touched you. Gripped your hips hard enough to bruise. His voice cracked when he said your name.

Ruby purred.

"Good girl."

You didn't mean to moan—but it slipped out anyway.

Just a soft, broken sound in the back of your throat as Ruby rocked your hips forward again, grinding you down into the thick, aching heat of Sam's cock through his jeans.

His head dropped forward, mouth brushing your collarbone. He made a noise like he was choking on the feel of you.

"Fuck, she's—Ruby, I can't—"

"You can," she whispered, wrapping her arms around you from behind. "You will. Look at her, Sammy. Look how sweet she is. So wet for you already and you haven't even touched her yet."

Your sleep shirt had ridden up to your waist, bunched just under your ribs. Sam's hands were under it now—hot and wide and shaking, gripping your hips like he was holding back an earthquake. You could feel every twitch of him beneath you, trapped behind the denim, burning through it.

You couldn't stop shaking.

"You wanna help him, don't you?" Ruby's voice was syrup in your ear. "He's been so good. He's been waiting for you. Doesn't he deserve to feel good?"

You nodded, eyes fluttering.

"Yes..."

"Say it, baby. Say I want to make Sam feel good."

Your breath hitched.

"I... I want to make Sam feel good."

Sam groaned like it hurt. His head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut, lips parted and flushed.

"Jesus Christ..."

Ruby's hands slid down your belly, fingertips just brushing the waistband of your panties. You gasped.

"That's our good girl," she whispered. "So responsive. So needy. Tell me, baby—have you ever been touched like this before?"

You whimpered. "No..."

"Mm." She kissed just behind your ear. "Even better."

Her fingers slid lower.

Sam's hands were everywhere now—your thighs, your waist, your lower back. His grip was rough, frantic, like he didn't know where to start. Like he wanted all of you at once.

"Ruby, I need—"

"I know," she said sweetly, pulling your panties to the side and slipping two fingers through the soaked heat between your thighs. "Look at her, Sam. She's dripping."

Your whole body jolted. You tried to twist away from the sensation, but Ruby only giggled and held you still.

"Shh, baby. Let us take care of you. You're doing so well."

She pulled her hand away slowly, teasing, and brought her fingers to Sam's mouth.

"Open."

He obeyed without thinking—lips parting as Ruby slid her fingers past them. He moaned low, guttural, eyes dark with something feral as he tasted you for the first time.

You made a wounded little sound, thighs trembling, head falling forward.

"Fuck—" he breathed. "She's... Ruby, she's perfect."

"I told you," she said, brushing your hair back, tucking it behind your ear like you were porcelain. "Didn't I say she'd be perfect?"

Then she leaned in again, voice like sin wrapped in silk.

"You ready for more, sweet thing?"

You couldn't speak. You just nodded. And it seemed that was all the encouragement Sam needed to shift the two of you further back onto the bed, keeping you pressed to him the entire time.

Ruby moved to sit behind you on the bed, one leg tucked under her, the other bracketing your thigh. Her hands slid up your sides, slow and soothing.

"Ride him just like that, baby," she whispered. "You're making him feel so good."

You whimpered, your hands resting on Sam's shoulders, your hips rocking in slow, helpless circles as heat curled tighter in your belly.

"You wanna keep going?" She asked, her voice dipped in honey. "Wanna make him feel even better?"

You nodded, dizzy and breathless.

"Then be a good girl and let me help you."

Her fingers slipped between your thighs again—this time not teasing. She manoeuvred you up off Sam's lap for a second, hooked her thumbs in your panties and dragged them down slowly, peeling them off and dropping them to the floor like they meant nothing.

Sam groaned beneath you, head tipping forward to rest against your chest.

"Jesus fucking Christ..."

Ruby smiled against your shoulder and whispered like a secret:

"Now ride him for real, sweet thing."

You were shaking.

Not from fear. Not exactly. But from something hot and thick curling in your belly, something too big to name. Your panties were gone, discarded on the floor like they'd never mattered. Sam was still hard beneath you, denim rough against your bare heat, and your hips were moving because Ruby told you to.

You were soaked.

You knew it. You felt it. The fabric of his jeans was sticky between your thighs and Sam was groaning, his head bowed low, sweat dampening the ends of his hair as he clutched at your waist like he might lose control.

It was too much.

"I... I don't know what to do," you whispered, voice trembling. "What do I... do?"

Ruby leaned in behind you again, her hands smoothing over your thighs, her lips brushing your ear.

"Aw, baby," she crooned. "You've really never done this before, have you?"

You swallowed hard, heart pounding.

"No..."

"Anything?" She asked softly, deceptively gentle. "Have you ever touched yourself? Let anyone else touch you?"

You flushed so hard your skin burned.

"N-no. I—I mean, not... not really..."

Ruby made a pleased little sound, like you'd just handed her the key to a locked room she'd been dying to enter.

"God, you really are perfect."

Her hands squeezed your thighs gently, her mouth warm at your jaw.

"Do you want to learn, sweet thing? Want to let us show you what feels good?"

You nodded, dazed.

"Say it."

"I... I want you to show me."

"Good girl."

Ruby kissed your shoulder, then gently—almost reverently—lifted you off of Sam's lap. He let out a breathless, broken sound, like even losing your weight made him ache. Ruby turned to him, tone shifting just enough to make it clear who was in charge here.

"Back," she said. "Now."

Sam didn't argue.

He moved further onto the bed in a slow, stiff blur, eyes glued to you like he couldn't believe this was real. His chest was rising fast, pupils blown to hell, lips parted like he might start begging. He looked like he was in pain.

You stood there, half-naked and trembling, your oversized sleep shirt hitched up high, bare legs shaking.

"Lie down, baby," Ruby said, turning her attention back to you. Her hands cupped your cheeks, her eyes glowing with soft, wicked promise. "Let us take care of you."

You obeyed.

She helped you down onto the bed, gently easing you onto your back, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your lips. You clung to her without meaning to, your fingers curling in her shirt, your legs twitching nervously.

"You're doing so good," she whispered. "You're being so brave. You'll love it, I promise. It's gonna feel so good..."

Her lips trailed lower—down your throat, between your collarbones, soft and slow. Her hands pushed your shirt up higher and higher, until your stomach was bare, your chest rising and falling like you'd run a mile.

She kissed every inch of exposed skin.

"Such soft skin... so untouched..."

Her hands slid down your thighs again—comforting, coaxing. Sam let out another choked sound, and when you looked over at him, his eyes were fixed between your legs, his hand gripping the bed like he might break it.

Ruby kissed the inside of your knee. Then your thigh. Then lower.

"Let me show you what it's supposed to feel like, sweet thing," she murmured, her breath ghosting over your heat. "You'll never want anything else after this."

You gasped when her mouth finally touched you—slow, teasing, masterful. You jolted, your hips bucking up in shock, but her hands held you down, firm but still gentle, like she'd done this before. Like she knew exactly how to unravel a girl like you.

You reached for something—anything—and Sam was there in an instant.

He crawled up beside you, his hand finding yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as you moaned helplessly beneath Ruby's mouth.

"You're okay," he whispered. "You're doing so good. God, you are so good..."

You turned your face into his neck, panting, whining, your thighs trembling as Ruby sucked softly on your clit, her tongue drawing slow, filthy circles that made your whole body clench.

"Let go, baby," she whispered between licks. "Be our good girl and come for us."

Your first orgasm broke over you like something sacred.

One second you were gasping into Sam's neck, Ruby's mouth still moving between your thighs, and the next—your back arched, a sob tore from your throat, and your whole body shuddered like you'd been struck by lightning.

It wasn't sharp—it was overwhelming. Full-body. Wringing you out like wet cloth. Sam held your hand tighter, whispering praise that barely landed, and Ruby moaned against your cunt like she felt it, like your release was something for her.

"God, baby," she breathed, and then—she slipped a finger inside you, slow and deliberate.

You jolted, a strangled cry slipping out as aftershocks tore through you. Sam's grip on your hand went white-knuckled.

Ruby moaned.

"She's so warm, Sam," she said, voice thick, dreamy. "So wet. You have no idea."

You whined, writhing, but Ruby only kissed your thigh like a reward and pulled her finger out—slick, shining.

"You're such a good girl for us," she whispered. "That was so beautiful."

She crawled back up your body, her skin hot against yours, and kissed your lips again. Deep, slow, tasting like you.

"Sam," she purred between kisses, her voice dipped in smoke. "You have to try this."

Sam didn't speak.

He just grabbed her—hard. One hand in her hair, the other on her hip, yanking her off you with a roughness that made your breath catch. He crushed his mouth to hers in a brutal kiss—desperate, consuming—and then shoved her aside like she was nothing more than a gatekeeper to his altar.

His altar being you.

He dropped between your legs without a word, spreading you open with shaking hands, and dove in like a man starved.

You screamed.

It was too much. Still trembling from your first orgasm, your body overloaded, you cried out as his tongue dragged through your folds, moaning against you like he was fucking possessed. And maybe he was. His grip on your thighs was bruising, his mouth unrelenting.

"Oh my god—S-Sam—!"

You tried to close your legs on instinct, but he just growled—growled—and shoved them wider, burying his face deeper.

"That's it," Ruby whispered, curling up beside you again. Her fingers found your hair, stroking it gently, brushing it behind your ears with all the tenderness of a mother tucking in her child. "Let him ruin you, baby. You're being so perfect."

You whimpered, face twisting into something close to pain.

"It's too much..."

"Shhh." Her hand cupped your cheek. "That's what makes it good."

Sam groaned between your thighs, low and wrecked. His tongue moved faster, deeper, insistent, like he couldn't get enough. Like he wanted to crawl inside you and stay.

"You feel that, sweet thing?" Ruby murmured, her mouth close to yours. "That's what happens when you give yourself over."

She kissed you again—languid, possessive, one hand still petting you like you were something to soothe and subdue.

"Open your mouth for me," she whispered. "You're drooling. It's cute."

You blinked, dazed, lips parting as her thumb pressed to your jaw.

"Let me feel it."

You obeyed.

She kissed you again, deeper this time, tongue slick against yours, swallowing your moans and the helpless sounds you made as Sam devoured you like he'd die if he stopped.

"That's it," she said softly. "Drool in my mouth, baby. You're doing so good."

She turned her head slightly, speaking to Sam like you weren't even there.

"She's so sensitive. Barely came once and look at her—already shaking for you."

Sam just groaned in response, too lost to speak. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, his tongue relentless, and you broke again with a sharp cry into Ruby's mouth.

You couldn't stop crying. Your legs wouldn't stop trembling, your voice had gone hoarse from moaning, and Sam was still between your thighs, tongue moving like he didn't hear you—like he didn't care.

"S-Sam—p-please—" Your fingers twisted in the sheets, your hips jerking, but his arms locked you down. "I—I c-can't—!"

Ruby was still beside you, still stroking your hair like nothing was wrong.

"Sam," she said softly. "Baby, she's crying."

He didn't stop.

He growled against you—low and guttural—and sucked harder, dragging his tongue with filthy, practiced strokes that had your spine arching, tears streaking your cheeks.

"Do you need him to stop, sweet thing?" Ruby whispered, brushing her thumb over your wet lashes.

You sobbed. Nodded.

"Y-yes—please—I c-can't take anymore—"

"Aww," she cooed, her voice like poisoned honey. "My poor baby. You're so sensitive. So perfect for him."

You gasped when Sam gripped your thighs tighter—his fingertips digging in, holding you wide open as his mouth moved faster, chasing another orgasm like he was possessed.

Ruby leaned in closer, her voice dipped in false sympathy.

"If he stops now..." she said sweetly, "...he's going to be so unsatisfied. That wouldn't be fair to him, would it?"

You blinked, dazed and wrecked, chest heaving.

"W-what...?"

"He's been waiting for you for so long, baby," she continued, stroking your cheek. "He's so hard it hurts. If you really want him to stop, you're gonna have to give him something."

You whimpered, nodding blindly.

"Anything, please—j-just make him stop—"

Ruby smiled like the devil in silk.

"Then you'll let him fuck you, sweet thing?" She kissed your temple. "You'll let him put his cock in that sweet little pussy and use you the way he needs to?"

Your lips trembled. You were crying so hard now it didn't feel real. But you nodded again. You couldn't think past the overstimulation—just needed him out from between your legs, needed something to change.

"Yes—yes, please—please—just make him stop—"

Ruby sat up, her voice turning firm.

"Sam. Stop."

He didn't move.

"Sam."

He growled—growled, full-bodied, vibrating the bed. His eyes were black, mouth wet, breath ragged.

"Don't—don't fucking tell me to stop—"

Ruby laughed.

"You'll thank me in thirty seconds, big boy."

She shoved him back by the shoulder, and this time—barely—he let her. He knelt between your legs, panting, pupils swallowing the green of his eyes.

Ruby leaned over you again, her hands spreading your legs wider.

"You're gonna take him now," she whispered. "You're gonna let him fuck you like he's been dreaming about for weeks. And you're gonna thank him for it."

You sobbed. Nodded.

Sam's hands fumbled with his jeans, dragging them down far enough to free his cock—thick, flushed, angry red with need. He didn't say a word. He just looked at you, hair in his face, jaw clenched, chest heaving.

"She said yes, Sammy," Ruby whispered. "She wants it. She wants you."

Sam moved fast.

He grabbed your hips, yanked you down the bed, and pressed the blunt head of his cock to your slick entrance. You gasped, eyes wide, every nerve ending screaming.

"You ready, sweet thing?" Ruby murmured, mouth at your ear. "You ready to be his?"

You whispered it, broken.

"Yes..."

Then Sam sank into you in one brutal thrust, and the sound you made wasn't human.

Your back arched, your breath vanished, and your body clenched around him like it didn't know how to take it. He was thick, hot, impossibly deep—and still moving, dragging out slowly, then slamming back in so hard the headboard rattled against the wall.

"Fuck—fuck— you feel unreal," he groaned, eyes squeezed shut, his voice wrecked. "So fucking tight—shit, baby, you were made for me—"

You cried out, hands grasping at the sheets, your body already fried and raw from overstimulation. Every thrust felt like lightning—too much, too deep, too good.

"You okay, baby?" Ruby murmured beside you, her voice sweet and syrupy. "You still with us?"

You nodded through the sob that escaped you, and she smiled like you'd just done something precious.

"That's my girl."

Sam fucked into you harder—hard enough to make the bed creak, his grip bruising on your hips. He looked elated, lost in it, mouth open as he moaned through gritted teeth.

"So fucking pretty when you cry," he panted. "Look at you—look what you're giving me—fuck—"

Ruby slid closer, still fully clothed, lips ghosting your temple.

"She's drooling again," she said with a laugh, her tone sing-song and amused. "You love this too much, sweet thing. Can't even keep your mouth closed."

You whimpered, your thighs shaking, and she kissed your cheek sweetly.

"That's okay," she whispered. "We love how messy you are."

Her hand slipped beneath her waistband, fingers curling—and then she took your trembling wrist and guided it down with her.

"Here," she murmured. "You wanna be good for me? Touch me."

Your fingers slipped beneath the lace, and you gasped when you felt how wet she was—soaked, hot, throbbing against your hand. She moaned low in your ear.

"That's it," she breathed. "Let me show you..."

Her hand wrapped around yours, using you, grinding down onto your fingers as Sam fucked you open in deep, brutal strokes that made your stomach tighten and your vision blur.

"Move in little circles," Ruby whispered, guiding your fingers. "Mmm—just like that, baby. You're such a fast learner."

Sam was losing it.

"She's touching you?" He groaned, looking down at you both, sweat dripping from his hairline. "Fuck, Ruby, fuck— she's so perfect—"

"She's everything," Ruby said with a soft moan, pressing your fingers harder. "She's ours now. Look at her. Look at what she's letting us do."

You choked on a sob, your hand trapped between Ruby's thighs, your body jerking with every thrust of Sam's cock. He was panting now, animalistic, his hands sliding up under your shirt to grope at your breasts, dragging his thumbs over your nipples.

"You hear that, baby?" Ruby crooned. "Hear how wet you are? How wet I am? It's all for you."

"You feel so good—so fucking good—" Sam growled, his thrusts speeding up, sloppy and deep. "I'm never gonna stop—never—never letting you go—"

Ruby grabbed your jaw, turned your face toward her, and kissed you like she owned you—tongue pushing into your mouth, swallowing your sobs and your moans, your drool and desperation.

"Open for me, sweet thing," she whispered against your lips. "Let me taste how wrecked you are."

You obeyed. You always obeyed. And as she kissed you, she didn't hold back, drool leaking into your mouth, sliding down your throat like a living thing. Warm. Sweet.

And Sam? Sam was losing it.

Sweat dripped from his chest, his arms were trembling from how hard he held himself above you, and his thrusts—fuck—they were frantic now, so deep and fast it felt like your body couldn't keep up. You couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. He was babbling between moans, his voice cracked open, wrecked.

"Can't believe this is real—fuck, you feel like heaven—so tight, so fucking warm—squeezing me, baby, you're fucking—you were made for this—"

Your legs were jelly around his hips. Your voice was gone, reduced to broken gasps and whines as his cock hit that deep spot again and again, the bed groaning under every thrust. Your hand was still between Ruby's thighs, her slick soaking your fingers, and she was rolling her hips against them slowly, deliberately.

"That's it, sweet thing," Ruby purred, her voice so gentle it made your eyes sting. "Let me use that precious little hand. You're such a good girl for us, letting us fuck you just right."

She leaned over you again, brushing your sweaty hair behind your ears, thumbing your jaw open.

"You want something in that mouth, baby?" She whispered sweetly. "You want me to spit in it again?"

You nodded—desperate, dazed, ruined.

She smiled.

"Open up."

She let it hang between her lips for just a second before letting it fall—hot, thick, landing on your tongue like sin. You moaned, tongue twitching, and she cooed.

"Swallow it like a good girl."

You did.

Sam groaned like he might fucking die.

"She's letting you spit in her mouth?" He gasped. "Jesus— fuck, I'm not gonna last—she's so—"

"She wants it, baby," Ruby crooned. "Don't you, sweet thing? You love how good you make him feel?"

You nodded, sobbing.

"Mhmm—yes—yes please—feels so good—!"

Ruby's hand slid between your legs again—while Sam was still fucking you—and her thumb found your clit with perfect, devastating pressure. You screamed, body jerking violently as she circled it with soft, expert cruelty.

"That's it," she whispered. "Let me help you break."

Sam was gone. Gone.

"Gonna fill you up, baby," he grunted, thrusts getting rougher, more erratic. "You're gonna take it, right? Let me come inside that pretty little cunt?"

"She wants it," Ruby said, matter-of-fact. "She's mine now. She'll take anything I give her. Won't you, baby?"

You cried out, stars bursting behind your eyes, your fingers slipping deeper into Ruby as her hand guided you.

"Fuck me with them," she murmured, voice like velvet-dipped knives. "Make me come while Sammy fucks you full."

You whimpered, your fingers pumping helplessly into her dripping heat as her thumb rubbed cruel circles into your clit, Sam's cock still slamming deep inside, faster, harder—

"You're mine—ours—fuck, I'm gonna—baby—take it—"

You shattered.

Your body convulsed, the scream caught in your throat, legs kicking uselessly as the orgasm ripped through you like nothing had ever existed before it. Sam groaned so loud it echoed off the walls—and then spilled inside you, hips jerking, cock twitching as he filled you up, panting, gasping, babbling your name and Ruby's in a filthy prayer.

Ruby came on your fingers a moment later, moaning low, hand never stopping on your clit as you sobbed through the comedown—wrecked, full, ruined.

"There you go," she whispered. "That's it, baby. That's my perfect little thing."

She kissed you once, slow and sweet.

"You're never leaving this bed again."

You didn't remember when you stopped crying. Somewhere between Sam's moans and Ruby's mouth, your tears had dried—leaving only heat, and ache, and the tremble in your thighs as you lay between them.

You were sore. Sticky. Wrecked in a way that felt permanent.

But you didn't want to move.

You could still feel Sam's spend leaking out of you, warm and slow. Ruby's breath was soft against your cheek, her fingers still tangled with yours like they had every right to be. Sam's hand rested over your belly—heavy, protective, possessive.

You felt claimed. Worshipped. Ruined.

You stared up at the ceiling, breath ragged, thoughts flickering like static, and it settled in your chest like truth:

You weren't yours anymore.

You didn't know when it had happened—when your body stopped being yours, when your heart shifted, when your innocence dissolved between their hands.

You just knew that it had.

And maybe that should have scared you. Maybe, once, it would have.

But lying there, between them—used, owned, kept—all you felt was peace. Because here, in this bed, you belonged to them. And you weren't sure you ever wanted to leave.

@mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @tinas111 @lunaleah @itshellfire @drakulana @nevercameraready @blossomingorchids @sacr1ficialang3l <3

[mswyrr]

The canon tragic ending of Snowbaird isn't a depiction of "What if Peeta betrayed himself and his true love and had to live without Katniss?" it's a depiction of "What if Katniss betrayed herself and her true love and had to live without Peeta?"

People want to make the parallels restricted by gender, boy compared to boy and girl to girl, but Everlark is actually a gender reversal of Snowbaird -- Katniss is the traumatized survivor who is tempted by narrowing the world down to necessity (and shutting off her own aliveness because it hurts and it's a risk to survival) and Peeta is the philosophical artist whose very presence and being invites her to open up and allow herself to feel alive inside, to take the risk of that, instead of merely surviving.

Their conversation before their first Games really drives this home:

"Who cares?" indeed. And "While I've been ruminating on the availability of trees, Peeta has been struggling with how to maintain his identity. His purity of self" is very reminiscent of conversations Lucy Gray and Coriolanus have where she's the poet, the philosopher articulating the carefully thought through inner life of the soul, and he's the person of action and pragmatism whose default in the face of exploring his own soul is often "Who cares?" Does that put food on the table? Will it keep us alive?

These qualities are meant to be in union -- they're meant to save each other. People can't actually lead a full life without developing both things (their soul and feelings and capacity for reflection and their capacity to act and be pragmatic in the world to physically survive) and being in cooperative union with others who have strengths where their weaknesses are.

Katniss and Peeta start off their first Games each seeing something different as most important -- the thing their personalities tend to make them focus on -- and it is only in their cooperative union that they are able to set the toppling of the entire tyranny in motion. Their cooperative union heals what the ruin of Lucy Gray and Coriolanus' similarly potentially fruitful union (life turned to death; food to poison) broke in the world.

Jungian concepts of the anima/animus can be gender essentialist--including requiring that someone's personality tendencies "match" their gender or else it's pathologized, which is so gross and inaccurate and bothers me as a queer woman deeply-- but if we think of these as natural components of all people that naturally vary regardless of someone's gender and need to be in balance, then -

Peeta is Katniss' anima--her dandelion in the spring, her pearl, her sunset orange gentleness that inspires her soul to come out from hiding, to reflect and feel-- in the same way Lucy Gray is Coriolanus' anima, whose music and her very being and her prioritizing of inner truth and reflective philosophy has the same effect on him. They become more themselves with their true love. The parts of themselves that hide, that they've drained energy away from in order to focus on survival, come to life.

And they are their beloveds' animus -- which is why Coriolanus goes from being a protective active agent of their survival when in a better place with Lucy Gray to becoming Bluebeard, the (attempted?) wife killer, in the worst case scenario. "[B]oth the demon and the savior are two aspects of the same inner power [of the animus]" (Marie-Louise Von Franz, Archetypal Dimensions of the Psyche, Page 282) and:

"Many myths and fairy tales tell of a prince, who has been turned into an animal or a monster by sorcery, being saved by a woman. This is a symbolic representation of the development of the animus toward consciousness." ~Marie-Louise Von Franz, Archetypal Dimensions of the Psyche, Page 281

Coriolanus devolves away from consciousness rather than evolving into a productive and balanced union -- he's a prince toward Lucy Gray early on in their relationship, saving and protecting and cherishing her, who becomes a beast rather than a beast who becomes a prince. (If he'd had a journey into being "cursed" by Gaul and becoming a beast BEFORE they met they could have had a happy ending where she's the heroine in a romance with her animus -- which is basically the majority of what the most beloved m/f romances are under the hood btw).

Oh and all of this is why Peeta is not and never was Katniss' "moral instructor"!! -- yes, instead of survival, his priority is inner reflection and truth. But he is not activating anything within her that wasn't already there, just in hiding and waiting to feel invited to come out and unfurl and live. She drained energy away from those parts of herself because (like Coriolanus) she was literally starving and had to put everything she was into surviving if she and those she loved were going to physically live. She does seem to be a naturally more pragmatic person -- but a healthy pragmatic person allows themselves more than mere survival. She's not choosing to be sermonized at by a "moral superior" -- she's choosing to embark on exploring and enriching her own inner life in partnership with someone who is strong in areas where she has been weak -- and when Coriolanus let himself embrace the peace and reflection that Lucy Gray seeks he wasn't finding anything there that wasn't a natural part of him too.

And both couples basically can represent (this is back to Jungian ideas) an individual human's inner psyche -- in chaos and ruin or in balance. Each of us has parts of ourselves that are in hiding and parts that dominate. And we all need to walk a path toward balance with those things. So, by splintering apart one union like that, Collins is doing something psychological and even mythological -- symbolically splintering the parts of a healthy self, splintering a balanced marriage union, and dividing core forces in the world that could be productive and fruitful against each other. So - the land becomes cursed. It all turns to poison because these forces aren't in balance. And then she shows the liberatory power of those forces, through Katniss and Peeta, fighting to be in loving union despite everything the curse and sickness of the land and the symbolically dead "Fisher King" president throws at them.

[deathbecomeswhore]

ok here is my personal understanding of the madhel dynamic (they are so toxic i love them so much):

- mad has always loved hel more than anyone else and felt that their relationship is more important than all others. this is so ingrained in mad’s worldview that she assumes hel is equally aware of it. she is not. mad also thinks that hel should place the same value on their friendship that she does and is deeply hurt when hel places importance on other things, i.e. romantic relationships

- so, everything that mad does is coming from this foundation of love/being each others person and a pathological need to be the most important person in hel’s life. and she thinks that hel knows that’s where she’s coming from.

- there is not malice in the things mad does. they are done to remind hel of the importance of their relationship and to keep them together. she will be as cruel as she has to be in order to keep helen. this cruelty doesn’t really “count” because of how much she loves helen. she does know that’s she is capable of hurting/will hurt hel, but that’s okay because she will fix it with her love and that is more important in the long run

then there’s helen

- she has this belief that mad is just better than her and is constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop and for mad to realize she’s too good for her and abandon her.

- she is always simultaneously trying to prove herself worthy of mad’s love while also looking for any replacement for mad’s love and a way to escape

- hel thinks she is justified in anything she does to try to get out of/create balance in her relationship with madeline because it is so unhealthy and hel lacks any power. (also, she does not truly believe she will ever get out of this relationship/not need mad)

- hel does do things with malice, but she does not believe she is capable of actually hurting mad. so, again, her harmful actions don’t really “count” because hel is always the victim/weaker one in the relationship and anything she does is just somewhat evening the scale

so, for mad

- all of her actions are justified because she loves mad and they are each other’s person so everything is fair game

and for hel

- all of her actions are justified because mad has (and will always have) this undue power over her, so hel can never really hurt mad and the things she does are just self-protection to somewhat even the playing field

mad can do bad things because they are in service of maintaining their relationship; hel can do bad things because they will never actually destroy their relationship

[johannestevans]

the thing is, i genuinely am interested in cases of criminality and various forms of antisocial behaviour, theft, violence, etc, but so much of true crime is like WHOAAAA THIS PERSON WAS SO CRAZYYYYYY HOW DID THEY GET AWAY WITH IT

and it's like. well. there was no intervention in trauma. that's it

like i'm watching this series about this woman who was a pathological liar with loads of different identities and people are like "wow she lied about having kids!!! and she then didn't spend any time with her own kids!! what a weirdo!"

and it's like. well her first baby died an accidental death

and following this, her next child was removed from her custody by the state. she then, when pregnant again, fled to ireland, took on an alternative identity, and avoided going to the hospital, had a homebirth ON HER OWN, bc she was frightened of the same thing happening

and the same thing did

and it's like. yeah that's so crazy that she's in a different country from the children she's not allowed to look after. that's so crazy she doesn't want to be in contact w her kids or living in the town where everyone knows her and thinks she's insane and evil. who woulda thunk it

like idk the fact that you've done this documentary being like "wow this horrible evil woman was so crazy and we wanted to do violence on her to punish her for being a freak and telling all these insane lies" is like. perhaps an indication of why someone like this would tell so many lies

esp when like. documentaries like this will be like. "oh her baby died... so suspicious, so concerning..." (inquest said this was an accidental death)

like. the difference between someone who tells insane lies and steals money vs someone who actually engages in violence

like this is the thing like. i understand the fear and anxiety people have about their trust being broken, but it's so bizarre whenever you watch a true crime documentary about someone who has never engaged in violence, and everyone is like "she's so scary, i'm so scared, i keep a weapon"

and it's like. ok ok so. this person who is non-violent and has never been violent, and you're talking a lot about???? carrying an axe??????? to protect yourself from her?????

who your kids all say was never anything but loving, kind, playful, and intelligent? who you exploited for cheap labour?

like. sorry but that's the flipside of "oh, this person took advantage of us because we couldn't afford official disability support"

so you took in a woman that you didn't have to pay basically very much at all, without checking out her background, to exploit HER

"well we couldn't afford childcare so we got this au pair bc we had no money"

yeah. you took in a woman you didn't have to pay tuppence to. just room and board. and then on the side she's obviously also doing a) lies to make people like her

b) doing scams to make money bc she has none

like. this documentary was produced by RTÉ and includes tiktokers as experts bc speaking of shitty things you don't pay for, the RTÉ has a budget of fuck all and they're not great lmao

but it's like. well why is no one questioning the ins and outs of how and why someone did something

where did the money go. what did she spend the money on. why do you need to imply that this insane traumatised woman who just lied and stole things was capable of violence to justify your desire for violent revenge. if lying is so bad, why can't you just be honest?

idk like. i don't particularly care about samantha cookes in herself, and i don't disbelieve that many of these scammed women feel their trust was broken and feel scared and betrayed and upset.

but why is a documentary ostensibly about this woman like, mostly about other women being upset

"i was very concerned she'd do something to a child"

you literally had her looking after your kids all the time.

"i slept with a hatchet beside my bed"

why. she was never violent. she talks about children dying because her baby dying fucked her head up. 1+1=2, lads, it's not rocket science

to me like. these forms of scamming and theft and criminality are interesting bc it's like. well how and why did someone do all that. what made them tick, what motivated this behaviour

and instead you have all these like. implications that this one mentally ill person is like. evil and scary

and a) even actual violent abusers and killers, it's more interesting and more valuable imo to understand how and why they were motivated to do violence, and the ways in which they were permitted and enabled to do so by police/the state/society

b) many of these people aren't even fucking violent. they just tell lies or steal money - and in this case, a lot of what she scammed for wasn't even money, but random bits of crap, bc it helped prop up her lies.

when your immediate reaction to the concept of a person who's like. fucked up. and compulsively, pathologically tells lies. or when your response to a woman whose baby died beside her in bed, and then wrote poetry talking about babies dying

is to immediately imply that she's the devil incarnate

like. yeah. that people dehumanise and despise this woman and revile her even before she ever did anything to anyone, and then that people feel the need to imply or threaten retributive violence against her at the first available opportunity, is in fact a contributor TO how and why she acts that way

[noforkingclue]

I have a cute little Lucifer x reader ideas that I would like to share. May I please request a Lucifer x reader where the reader has been stood up by their date on valentines day but they get called into work and don't have time to change so they come in all dressed up fancy for their date and Lucifer gets mad when he finds out that the reader was stood up but also maybe admits his attraction to the reader.

I hope you have a great day and happy Friday eve.

Of course anon! This is my first time writing for him so sorry if this is OOC.

Anyway, hope you like the fic :)

Title: Over Dressed

“Y/n, I need you.”

“I’m flattered Chloe but I don’t swing that way.”

“That’s not what I meant. There’s been a murder.”

“Well you are a homicide detective.”

“I need you down here.”

“It’s my day off.”

“I’ll make sure you get it back.”

“How generous of you.”

“Look,” you could hear the guilt in her voice, “I know you had plans for tonight but I really do need you.”

“...”

“Are you going to make me say it?”

“Maybe…”

“Please can you come down here.”

“Fine. But Chloe?”

“Yes?”

“Can you make sure there are flat shoes down there?”

You grimaced as you walked into the crime scene, your heels held in one hand. Chloe had so graciously managed to get you a pair of trainers to wear. Your outfit had earnt you raised eyebrows from Chloe as she handed you the shoes.

“Hot date?” she asked

“Yeah.”

“Sorry,” there was that guilt tone again, “I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine,” you sighed, “there’ll be other nights. Ultimately this is more important.”

The two of you walked towards the crime scene. You knew that your short dress was getting you some… looks but you didn’t have time to get back to your flat and get changed. A double murder on Valentine’s Day trumped most things. At least Chloe had managed to get you out of your heels. You grimaced as you approached the crime scene.

“Don’t. Say. A. Fucking. Thing.” you said as Dan came into view

“I wasn’t going to,” said Dan slowly as he took in your outfit, “you look…”

He trailed off and briefly glanced at Chloe.

“Nice?” he finished

“Was that a question?” you asked, as you started getting ready to inspect the crime scene

“Err, I mean-” he coughed awkwardly, “You want my coat?”

“I’m just messing with you. And I’ll be fine, thanks though. Come on, let’s get this over with so I can get changed into some actually warm clothes. Whoever decided Valentine's Day was to be in the middle of February was a dick.”

Working in pathology, you usually wore plain sensible clothes. Stuff you wouldn’t mind getting dirty or potentially covered in blood despite wearing the suitable protective clothing. When you weren’t on the crime scene you were usually performing post mortems (and therefore in scrubs) or writing reports. Therefore, you had no reason to get dressed up. Even going out for after work drinks, it was just drinks down a bar. No reason to get glammed up.

Which was probably why you were getting so many stares.

“Hope your date doesn’t mind,” said Chloe, “about you being called away.”

“He’ll… he’ll be fine.”

You pursed your lips and moved towards the crime scene. Chloe paused at your reaction. That wasn’t quite the reaction she was expecting from you. You were hiding something from her. She thought that the two of you were close. Clearly your date hadn't gone as well as you were expecting. You had made an obvious effort and yet…

There was something off about you.

Something that she was going to get to the bottom of.

“Ah, Detective you brought the good Doctor and-”

And this was the only thing that could’ve made your evening worse. Lucifer. The prick. His smile seemed to fix when he spotted you. You began to regret not accepting Dan’s offer of his coat.

“New uniform, Doctor? Can’t say I’m complaining myself.”

“Shut up Lucifer.”

“And charming as ever.”

“I’m not in the mood this evening.”

“Ah, so there will be a time when you are in the mood.”

You rolled your eyes and knelt down beside the body. You grimaced as your dress rode up slightly and tried to subtly tug it down. Damn Chloe. Why couldn’t she have given you a bit of time to get changed? Ok, you knew that the real reason was that you needed to get down to the crime scene as soon as possible so any vital evidence wasn’t lost but still, it would’ve been nice to get changed.

“No need to worry about that on my account, Doctor. I don’t see any of us complaining.”

You jumped slightly as you felt Lucifer’s breath on the back of your neck. You turned your head and glared. Lucifer didn’t seem to care about your reaction.

“Do you mind?” you asked

“Not really.”

“I’m trying to inspect a crime scene.”

“And I’m just admiring your outfit. Can’t I pay you a compliment? I mean, you clearly put in a lot of effort.”

“Yeah and it was all wasted. I got stood up”

A tense silence fell over the group and you shut your eyes. You didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Fuck. Ignore me.”

“You got-”

“Drop it Chloe.”

“But-”

“And the same goes to you Dan!”

To your surprise, and mild suspicion, Lucifer had been unusually quiet. Chloe was probably keeping him in line as you inspected the crime scene. You really didn’t need this today although sometimes, it really was easier to deal with dead people than with the living. At least the dead didn’t make comments about you (lack) of a love life.

“Well, Doc?”

You looked up at Dan. Chloe and Lucifer had left the crime scene and you relaxed slightly.

“Cause of death?” he asked

“Deep penetrating knife wound to the chest-” you said, causing Dan to snort

“Don’t let Lucifer hear you say that.” he said

For the first time you smiled slightly.

“True. The blade probably went straight through to the heart but I’ll know more after the PM.”

You stood up and dusted the dirt off your knees. You looked around the crime scene and frowned.

“Judging by the lack of blood I’d say that he was killed elsewhere and then moved here.”

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. Tonight really wasn’t your night. You jumped slightly when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Chloe gave you what she probably thought was a reassuring smile.

“I shouldn’t have called you,” she said, “I’m sorry. I’m sure-”

“It’s ok,” you said, “honestly, this kinda helped. It distracted me from… all the bullshit. You sure it’s ok if I head off?”

“Yeah, I’ve called in the backup.”

“So I’m still your first port of call even when I’m on leave? I don’t know whether to be flattered or concerned.”

You head away from the crime scene. Part of you wanted to stay. You really could use the distraction. You paused when you saw Lucifer leaning against that overly flash car of his. He smirked at you and held up your heels.

“I believe that these would go much better with your dress.” he said

“I find the trainers more comfortable.”

You began to walk past him but once again Lucifer surprised you by stopping you. You raised your eyebrows.

“I’ll drive you home.” he said

“I’m a big girl. I can manage by myself.”

“I’m aware.”

You held your hand out for your shoes but Lucifer didn’t hand them over.

“Give them back.”

“I’ll give you these when you get in the car.”

You tried to grab them but Lucifer held them above your head. Damn him for being so much taller than you.

“I’m not jumping for them.” you said

“Then get in the car.”

“Why do you care about me getting home safely? Unless Chloe put you up to it?”

Lucifer gave you a disapproving look and wiggled the shoes at you. Usually you wouldn’t give in so easily but you had a shit evening and those shoes were expensive. Reluctantly you got in the car and Lucifer smirked and handed you your shoes.

The journey was, again, unusually silent. You occasionally thought you saw Lucifer glance at you but you firmly kept your gaze firmly locked on the window. You frowned when you realised that you weren’t heading towards your flat.

“Where-”

“You need a night out,” said Lucifer firmly, “dinner, wine, dancing,” he smirked at you, “maybe something a bit more. It would be a shame for all your effort to go to waste.”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

“And not wasted on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.”

“No.”

“No?”

The car stopped at a red light. You finally turned to face Lucifer who was looking at you curiously. He leant closer and you tried to back away. However, it was a small car and not much space for you to go.

“Tell me,” Lucifer lowered his voice, his gaze drifting to your lips, “what is it you desire.”

You blinked, your mind suddenly going cloudy as you said,

“I want to go home.”

“I’m aware.”

“Take off this dress.”

“I can gladly help you with that.”

“Take off this makeup.”

“Hmm?”

“And pretend this evening never happened.”

This seemed to catch Lucifer off guard. He paused at your words, leaning closer. You could feel his breath fan across your face. You had never been this close to him before. Yes, Lucifer was happy to invade your personal space but this felt different. More intimate.

“Why?” you asked, “what do you desire?”

“Not what,” he said, “but who.”

He moved in. You knew you should stop him. Part of your mind was screaming at you to push him away. To not be like all those other people who willingly gave in. To be more like Chloe and-

The sudden beeping of a car horn dragged you out of your daze. You blinked and shook your head. You rubbed your forehead and shook your head.

“I…I just want to head home.”  you said quietly

“Right.”

The two of you drove in silence until you reached your flat. You relaxed as the building came into view and Lucifer parked up. Just before you got out of the car, Lucifer stopped you.

“If you ever require revenge,” he said, giving you a sharp smile, “let me know. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of people who would gladly turn a blind eye to whatever might happen.”

“N..no,” you said, “don’t worry. He’s not worth it. Err, thanks for the lift I guess…”

Lucifer watched you as you entered your building, only driving off when he saw a light flick on showing that you were safely in your flat. As he drove off he thought back to what you said. You hesitated at his offer to do something to your date. Maybe you wouldn’t be too opposed to whatever he was planning then.

[lucydarkrain]

Zombie Apocalypse/World War Z AU

Rapunzel Corona

Rapunzel is the most knowledgeable about medicine and pathology among the survivors. Before the virus outbreak, she was a clinical intern at the San Francisco School of Medicine. Initially, after the outbreak, she was determined not to play the hero. However, after witnessing countless innocent lives perish before her eyes, she decided to uphold the Hippocratic Oath. From that point on, she vowed to help anyone she could save. While she appears full of survival instinct and often encourages others to keep going, deep down, she has long been prepared to face death calmly. Rapunzel embarks on this journey to reach Chicago, where she hopes to find an old friend of her mentor, Dr. Gothel, and uncover the origin of the outbreak by identifying patient zero.

Rapunzel’s First Day

On the first day of the outbreak, Rapunzel witnessed chaos at the hospital. She saw medical staff hurriedly wheeling patients out of the elevator, their faces pale with fear. Passing through the crowd, she caught a glimpse of the grotesque appearance of a patient, the strong scent of blood making her stomach churn. While taking the elevator to leave, she saw the same patient violently attack the doctors. Thankfully, the elevator doors closed just in time, sparing her.

Back in the lobby, Rapunzel struggled to process what she had just seen. The hospital still appeared normal, but she recalled her mentor, Dr. Gothel, mentioning a contagious disease that had recently surfaced in Panama. While running to the attending physician’s office, Gothel appeared, urging her to leave immediately. She handed Rapunzel her notebook, explaining that the disease had already reached California and was spreading rapidly. Suddenly, an ambulance crashed through the hospital’s glass walls, causing widespread panic. Gothel told Rapunzel to leave California and go to the address recorded in the notebook to find her.

As zombies overran the hospital, Rapunzel was saved by her EMT colleague, Cassandra, who helped her fend off the undead. The two managed to escape the hospital in a car. Though they initially planned to stick together, Cassandra was attacked by zombies shortly after their escape. Realizing her imminent death, Cassandra sacrificed herself to protect Rapunzel. Devastated, Rapunzel drove into a deserted countryside where she finally allowed herself to grieve. Wiping her tears, she began planning her next steps for survival.

Encounter

On the fifth day after the outbreak in San Francisco, Rapunzel encountered Jack sitting on a highway fence, smoking a cigarette. Covered in blood, he looked infected at first glance. Initially planning to ignore him, she remembered Cassandra’s help and her own oath as a doctor, eventually deciding to stop and ask if he needed a ride.

Items/Weapons

• Medical Kit: Contains disinfectants, iodine, bandages, antibiotics, sedatives, etc., scavenged from a pharmacy.

• Frying Pan: Her signature weapon. Unskilled with firearms and warned about their recoil by Jack, she once saved herself with this pan and gradually became proficient with it.

• Notebook: Dr. Gothel’s pathology notes, containing information about the virus and theories about potential sources. It also includes the Chicago address of Gothel’s old friend.

• Axe: A relatively effective weapon after learning zombies’ weak points.

Jackson (Jack) Overland Frost

Jack is the melee combat expert among the survivors. After graduating high school, he served in the military for a year, giving him strong physical and reflexive abilities. Before the outbreak, he was just an ordinary boy working part-time at a Dairy Queen. As the virus spread, Jack quickly learned how to fight off zombies and, for a time, even found a grim sense of enjoyment in the violence. Initially, he planned to exploit Rapunzel’s kindness to take her supplies, deeming her idealism naive in this cruel world. However, her repeated acts of kindness and her story eventually led him to trust her and believe in her theories. Over time, his personality began to revert to its original state, and he started trusting her. Jack’s goal is to reach Washington, D.C., where he hopes to reunite with his former commanding officer, North. Believing North, who once worked at Homeland Security, might have a solution to the outbreak, Jack is determined to find him.

Jack’s First Day

On the first day of the outbreak, Jack was on his way to pick up his younger sister, Emma, from school. Noticing panicked parents rushing to take their children home, he felt an ominous sense of dread. Taking Emma, he hurried back home, witnessing people fleeing in terror and infected individuals attacking others. The chaos triggered Emma’s asthma, but Jack couldn’t find her inhaler. He drove to a pharmacy, where people were looting supplies in a frenzy. Grabbing essentials, he and Emma fled the scene.

Back home, Jack thought they could escape with their parents, only to discover his mother had already been infected by a neighbor. She attacked him and Emma, forcing Jack to grab a handgun from a drawer and shoot her. Only later did he realize she was no longer his mother. Emma, frozen in shock, revealed a bite on her wrist. Tearfully, she begged Jack to end her life before she turned into one of them. Overwhelmed with grief, Jack carried out her final wish and vowed to survive in her honor.

Encounter

A week after the outbreak, Jack ran out of bullets. His car, damaged during previous attacks, broke down on the highway. With no will to live, he sat on the roadside fence, smoking and waiting for the end. Hearing a car stop, he looked up to see a young blonde woman asking if he needed a ride.

Items/Weapons

• M1911: A handgun from his parents’ bedroom, used to kill his infected mother and sister. It played a key role in his early survival.

• .45 ACP: A handgun obtained from a gun shop during his journey with Rapunzel, which he now carries at all times.

• Shotgun: A weapon stored in his car, frequently used in battles.

• Gold Necklace: Originally Emma’s, containing family photos. After her death, Jack has worn it constantly.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III

Hiccup is the brains of the survivor squad. Before the virus outbreak, he was a university student in Los Angeles. During his freshman year, he was hazed by a fraternity, which led him to successfully hack into all their members’ computers as revenge. Before the outbreak, he was quiet and reserved, but the absurdity of the situation turned him into a chatterbox. His destination during the escape is Minnesota, having heard it’s a peaceful place to retire.

Hiccup’s First Day

It all began when Hiccup was on his way back to his dorm. He noticed several helicopters flying overhead and an accident at a nearby intersection, with police and ambulance sirens blaring. Growing uneasy, he quickened his pace. In the park ahead, he saw someone being attacked, and though he didn’t want to believe it, he realized he was witnessing a scene of cannibalism. Glancing back, he saw people at the intersection abandoning their cars and fleeing in panic. Without knowing what they were running from, Hiccup instinctively joined them. Turning his head, he saw someone emerging from a nearby restaurant being chased and bitten by a grotesque figure. This horrifying sight prompted Hiccup to count how long it took for the bitten person to transform—it was just fifteen seconds.

As more and more infected appeared, Hiccup fled into a dark alley, where he desperately pried open a manhole cover and climbed into the sewers, narrowly escaping death.

During his escape, Hiccup encountered a stray black cat with only one ear. He initially wanted to name it “One Ear,” but the cat clearly disliked the name. The cat stared intently at Hiccup while he ate, and though he first mistook it for a zombie, he relaxed upon realizing it was just a hungry animal. He shared some food with it, but whenever he tried to touch the cat, it reacted with hostility. Once, it even bit his hand with its still-growing teeth. Hiccup didn’t resist and let the cat vent, which led to the cat eventually following him everywhere. Though he initially wanted nothing to do with the cat, Hiccup found himself saving it from a horde of zombies. Later, when he injured his leg and thought he was doomed, he told the cat he would never eat it and urged it to leave him behind. However, the cat refused to abandon him. Realizing his wound was just a scratch from metal debris, Hiccup named the cat “Toothless” and decided to find a home for both of them.

Encounter

Hiccup and Toothless were eking out a living in a supermarket on the outskirts of town. On the sixth day of the outbreak, Hiccup woke to the sound of movement. Gripping a baseball bat, he cautiously approached the pharmacy aisle, where he saw golden hair trailing on the floor. Following the hair, he found Rapunzel scavenging for medical supplies. Startled by the noise, Rapunzel grabbed a frying pan and faced him defensively. Jack, hearing the commotion, quickly located them. After confirming everyone was human, Jack relaxed but remained vigilant, questioning Hiccup about the wound on his leg. Hiccup assured him that if he had been bitten, he would have turned already.

Seeing signs of infection, Rapunzel gave Hiccup antibiotics. Since Minnesota and Chicago were on the same route, she decided to bring Hiccup along to prevent his injury from worsening.

Weapons and Equipment

• Baseball Bat: Originally his roommate’s, it was Hiccup’s first weapon but proved ineffective, forcing him to rely on hiding during the first week.

• Spiked Club: A homemade weapon made by driving nails into a wooden bat.

• Fire Crossbow: A self-made crossbow modified to light its bolts with alcohol, enabling effective ranged attacks.

• Glock 19: Hiccup’s backup weapon, meant for either defense or ending his own life if necessary.

• Prosthetic Leg: After losing his leg in the Chicago incident, Hiccup crafted a prosthetic limb using available tools. With Rapunzel’s help, he adapted to it and eventually regained his ability to walk and run.

Merida DunBroch

Merida is the survivor squad’s long-range support. Before the outbreak, she worked as a horse-riding instructor at a Southern California ranch owned by her father’s old friend, MacGuffin. As a Scot, she would often revert to a thick accent or use slang when agitated, which her clients couldn’t understand. Hoping to reunite with her family in Virginia, she began her journey. Another goal was to retrieve her father’s firearms, stored in a hidden armory near their family farm, to better protect her loved ones.

Merida’s First Day

Merida was leisurely riding her beloved horse, Angus, across a plain when they neared the forest. Angus suddenly stopped, uneasy. Sensing something was wrong, Merida returned to the stables, noticing the other animals behaving restlessly as well.

Shortly after, she received a call from her mother, urging her to lock the doors and windows, mentioning that rabies outbreaks from East Asia had reached the U.S. The call became choppy, and several helicopters flew overhead. Her mother’s final words before the line cut off were to get home immediately.

Merida stopped by MacGuffin’s mansion to find out more. His son pulled her aside, saying his father was acting strangely, and asked her to wait in the living room. Moments later, she heard glass shattering and a struggle upstairs. Investigating, she was attacked by a rabid MacGuffin and his son. Grabbing a decorative sword, Merida defended herself. Guards burst in to help but were quickly overwhelmed and infected. Realizing the infected could only be killed by destroying their brains, Merida used a crossbow from the estate’s armory to put down MacGuffin and his son.

Returning to her ranch, Merida found Angus had fled but eventually reunited with him. Her attempts to warn neighbors were met with fear or disbelief, with one person even stealing her gun and ammunition. Cornered by zombies, Merida watched Angus distract the horde, giving her a chance to escape in MacGuffin’s car.

Encounter

Ten days after the outbreak, WHO declared a global crisis. Jack, Rapunzel, and Hiccup took shelter in a Beverly Hills mansion. While exploring, Rapunzel admired a painting when an arrow narrowly missed her, embedding itself in the artwork. Turning, she saw a red-haired girl aiming a bow at her. Jack, alerted by Rapunzel’s scream, pointed his gun at Merida, who claimed she had staked her claim on the house.

The standoff ended when Merida was startled by Toothless. Jack wanted to tie her up as a precaution, but Rapunzel later brought her food and a blanket, suggesting she join the group. Merida escaped that night, warning Rapunzel that kindness could be deadly in times like these. However, when zombies attacked the mansion, Merida returned and used her crossbow to save Hiccup, ultimately helping the group escape.

Weapons and Equipment

• Metal Bow and Arrows: Merida’s personal weapon, highly accurate and effective in close combat when necessary.

• Crossbow: Taken from the MacGuffin estate, it became her primary weapon.

• Carbine Rifle: Lightweight and effective for medium-range combat, often used to cover Jack’s blind spots.

• Shotgun: A last resort, cumbersome but reliable.

Plot Outline: Virginia → Chicago

After a long journey, the four finally arrived in Virginia, only to find that the virus outbreak in the state was not as severe as in cities out west. Perhaps due to the vast rural landscape and lower population density, there were plenty of zombies, but the situation wasn’t as catastrophic as they had feared.

Merida quickly found her family home but discovered it in complete disarray. The windows and balcony glass were shattered, and the kitchen bore evidence of a violent struggle, with knives and bloodstains scattered around. After thoroughly searching the house and finding no sign of her family or their bodies, the group realized that the DunBroch family, apart from Merida, had likely perished. Merida silently stared at a shattered family photo lying on the ground for a long time. She then led the others to break into her father’s armory. Inside, they found most of the weapons intact, except for her father’s beloved Remington 700 rifle and MAC-10 submachine gun, which were missing. The group scavenged all useful items before continuing their journey to Chicago.

During the journey, Hiccup wrestled with whether to leave the group and take Toothless to Minnesota to build a home for themselves. While staying overnight in an abandoned hotel in the countryside, the group held a simple farewell ceremony for him. After drinking, a tipsy Merida and Jack even joked about tying Hiccup to the passenger seat of their car to prevent him from leaving. Once Merida and Jack had fallen asleep, Rapunzel, who was on night watch, handed Hiccup the address of her destination in Chicago and told him he was welcome to find them anytime if he changed his mind. That night, Toothless rested on Rapunzel’s lap, seemingly sensing the tension in the air.

The next morning, the group said their emotional goodbyes. Hiccup and Toothless set off for Minnesota, while the other three continued their journey to Chicago.

According to the notes they carried, Rapunzel’s late friend had mentioned someone with the codename “Pitch,” whose address pointed to Chicago City Hospital. The group fought their way into the hospital and found Pitch in a private room. Pitch explained that the hospital’s pathology lab contained blood samples from Patient Zero, the first documented case of the outbreak, and recounted the events of the outbreak’s first day in Chicago.

Believing that information about Patient Zero could help develop a cure, Rapunzel insisted on retrieving the blood samples. Jack and Merida initially dismissed her plan as reckless but ultimately decided to join her. Pitch, amused by their determination, agreed to help. He drew them a map of the hospital and marked the location of the pathology lab.

The three braved numerous obstacles to reach the lab, only to find its door secured by a fingerprint scanner. As panic set in, the door suddenly opened on its own. They quickly locked it behind them, keeping the zombies outside. Just as they were trying to figure out what had happened, the intercom inside the lab crackled to life—it was Hiccup’s voice. He and Toothless, after deciding to rejoin the group, had successfully infiltrated the hospital’s control room and hacked into its systems to assist them.

With the blood samples in hand, the group reunited with Hiccup in the control room and returned to Pitch’s room, only to find it overrun by zombies. Before they left, Pitch revealed that the safest place in the world was Jerusalem, which had prepared extensively for the outbreak even before it began. He mentioned a massive wall called “Limbo” that successfully kept the zombies out. Rapunzel urged Pitch to join them, but he refused, explaining that he had lost his daughter and no longer had the will to continue fighting. The group reluctantly left as the zombies poured in, and Rapunzel, glancing back for a brief moment, was shocked to see the zombies ignoring Pitch entirely.

As the group fled in their vehicle, zombies attacked before the door could close, and Hiccup was bitten on the lower leg. Once the car was secured, Jack immediately amputated Hiccup’s leg to prevent the infection from spreading. Rapunzel quickly wrapped his leg with a cloth to stop the bleeding while counting down the crucial 15 seconds. Merida placed the hilt of her sword in Hiccup’s mouth to prevent him from biting his tongue in pain. As the seconds passed, Jack, trembling, held a gun to Hiccup’s head, ready to end it if necessary. When the 15 seconds elapsed and Hiccup showed no signs of infection, the group breathed a sigh of relief. Rapunzel disinfected and bandaged his leg, while Jack, still shaken, muttered that perhaps Hiccup shouldn’t have come back. Hiccup, pale and weak, stroked Toothless and replied that he felt safer with them.

Shortly after, Jack managed to contact North, attempting to negotiate safe passage for the group. Sensing hesitation in North’s response, Jack revealed that they had blood samples from Patient Zero and that his experience in the field made him an asset. In exchange, he demanded transport to Jerusalem’s Limbo. After a brief pause, North agreed to contact them within an hour.

An hour later, North instructed them to meet his team at Cleveland’s Terminal Tower at sunrise.

Upon arriving in Cleveland, the group prepared for the final sprint, using thick magazines to reinforce their arms and legs and carrying all remaining weapons and supplies. At sunrise, they fought through a relentless horde of zombies toward the helicopter. Hiccup fired his flaming crossbow to signal their position to the pilots. During the battle, Merida accidentally ingested zombie blood, and once aboard the tower, she prepared to leap to her death if she showed signs of infection. Rapunzel, panicked, tried to stop her, but Merida refused, counting down 15 seconds with her eyes closed. When no infection occurred, she finally boarded the helicopter.

The group finally escaped and arrived within the walls of Limbo in Jerusalem. Rapunzel and the blood samples were handed over to surviving WHO virologists. Jack was assigned to the defense team protecting the walls, Hiccup and Toothless received further treatment for his amputation, and Merida, to her surprise, was reunited with her three younger brothers, who had survived.

—— TBC.

[aniihera]

Ok. I’ve been compiling my thoughts on the pathologic 2 endings for a while now, and I’ve finally pinpointed my feelings on them (enough to share at least). I’m desperate to hear what others think about them too.

Lengthy Kin-themed rant oncoming? Perhaps.

More under the cut.

CW: Spoilers for Pathologic 2 (of course).

- - -

To preface: As I am Māori, not Buryat or of the other cultures I have heard the Kin to be based on, my perspective is more from *my* understanding of what it means to be Indigenous than anything else. There are probably many things I’m missing. But I’d like to throw in my two cents, however relevant they are.

Suffice to say, my feelings are complicated. Stylistically and narratively, there was a lot that I enjoyed. From a reconnecting/ mixed Indigenous perspective, however, I still feel unwillingly bisected, torn.

At the culmination of everything, Artemy Burakh and the player are roped into a cruel, two-pronged choice. Destroy the Polyhedron along with the miracles of the Steppe, or let the plague devour the town as you lead the Kin back to its heart. In these scenarios, you either assimilate the Kin into the town, which many of them will despise you for, or push out the nonindigenous townsfolk by force, letting nature run its course. Any third option has already been amputated, beyond your will. You cannot protect the Kin completely either way, some will likely die from the plague in the latter, and the more fantastical will in the first, by being cleaved from the earth’s dying magic.

Diurnal, or Nocturnal. No matter how you look at it, the kin cannot thrive in either. For it to be a choice at all, hurt, to say the least. After playing the bachelor’s route in the first game, I’m sure that was deliberate in an anti-utopian sense, perfection is impossible etc, etc. But the first lens I saw it through, stuck with me.

When I initially read Isidor say this after Artemy’s trial in the abattoir:

“Facing the Future is the way of Love. Facing the Past is the way of Love. But the two are incompatible, and it broke my heart.”

I was devastated. The hopeless dichotomisation of future and past… and I could only construe it as assimilation or death in some manner (but I could not see what role it took yet). That feeling festered for a while, but I wanted to see it from another angle. I think it's natural to be sensitive to the words “progress” (which is usually linked to “civilisation” and colonisation) when anchored against Indigenous culture, but I didn’t want that to blind me completely.

On its own, I do like this line. It’s weighty. And I think it articulates aspects of Indigenous struggle well, to some degree. Going back to the “past” is somewhat impossible for many reasons. Decolonisation is needed but I don’t believe it means restoring the “past” fully by any means. Culture is not stagnant, and neither is the future. To say they are incompatible though pains me. Especially when contextualised inside the divide between the kin and the town. It is an intentionally agonising line, and successfully so. Pitting the themes of Past/Future, against, Kin/Town, is something I find hard to reconcile with. Even just the first part irks me; personally the past walks with me at every step, the future is void and useless without it in full view. But I wouldn’t say a line from Isidor (or Artemy’s subconscious) necessarily defines the game more than it does his perspective. For me, it is the patterns that follow and precede it.

Aspity is a very obvious portrayal of what it looks like to “face the past” completely. Visiting her sanctuary, It becomes very evident that her opinions of the non-Kinfolk sway towards genocidal. They must “flood the town”, as she put it. Considering their treatment on the Bull Project and well… everything else, It’s not unfounded. During the night visits, we develop a growing understanding of what is at stake for the kin. Their language, legends, arts, and traditions, and too many Kin are dying from pest and persecution (Its a familiar story). Herb brides are forced to sell their cultural dance to get by (another familiar story for Māori, kapa haka and tourism, our culture has also become a commodity out of necessity). Legends like the shabnak adyr too are warped by the townsfolk (as it is used as an excuse to target Kin women). Assimilation means these things for them too.

There's also the case of how the Kin are depicted as more animalistic than the “more human” townsfolk. Oyun, Big Vlad, and even Artemy have a long history referring to them as such. To make the Kin less than human is inherently othering (as is any case where the empire views us as inherently more primitive or unevolved). The importance placed on Aurochs and being one with nature in Kin culture paints this in a less hostile light (Big Vlad’s view not so much). But I fear the effect this might have on player perceptions of the Kin will be negative regardless. I’ve seen a few statements about the Kin being a “hivemind”, I can't say I entirely agree. Many are divided on how they view Artemy, as well as what they desire for the future. I’ve also seen this in reference to when a few odonghe gift you organs for your tinctures, but at this point everyone in the town is desperate for a cure no matter the cost. Their more violent practices appear to weaken many fans' empathy for the Kin, painting the Nocturnal ending darker and darker. Getting rid of herb bride “marriages” would be a good thing at least right? Assimilation might be a good thing then? Nothing good comes without cost, and for the Kin this cost is too steep. Survival doesn't have to mean losing yourself piece by piece.

I will say that despite liking the non-Kin townsfolk, I do wish there was a larger Kin presence among the main roles. While we have Nara, Aspity, Oyun, and Taya, I understand how their presence does little to assuage the dread of seeing the rest of the cast wade out into the Steppe. For me, seeing Murky and Sticky in such a lost state during the Nocturnal ending, made me unable to see it as anything but a mistake.

Two other alternating themes are present through the endings. Childhood (miracles and dreams) and adulthood (waking up and walking forward). The dominant presence of children in Nocturnal, and the fact that walking through the near empty town really does feel like a nightmare, showcases this. The impossible has been made possible, the earth sleeps, sated. The endless cycle of responsibility, from father to son, from parent to child... Children rule the future here. In Diurnal, this cycle, at least, has some room to be broken. Responsibilities are weighed more evenly. Letting go of miracles and childhood dreams, that is the only future in this end. I’m not sure If i have to discuss how problematic it might be to place indigenous revival in the realm of childishness, and assimilation in the realm of growing up, but i thought i'd leave the notion there regardless.

Leaving how you view the two ends aside, it's obvious that Nocturnal has a heavier, gloomier tone.

Maybe having a third ending would’ve been reductive, to have one person so easily find a solution to unifying the town. But, it hurts so deeply to have that choice wrenched from your hands. The choice might have been severed by Isidor, but it felt like so much was possible for Artemy. With one foot in both worlds, the potential of true reconnection, i thought we could move past what was possible for his father. It felt like that was the direction Artemy was moving in, seeing the choices before him and bullheadedly trampling through the middle. Just like he did with the cure, finding the impossible connection.

As it stands, the endings are brutal. Survival for the kin is held by a thread, regardless of the direction you look. They either die a physical death, or a cultural and spiritual one (the two could very well be interpreted as present in both depending on how you look at it). By your conversations with Aspity, even if they survive, the Diurnal end is hinted to lead to an essential “dissolution” of the Kin as they know it. Wherein the differences between the Town and Kin will become so negligible that the two are no longer distinct. Which from my perspective is its own, however voiceless tragedy.

Ok, that was a lot of negativity but I’d like to be candid. Even despite all that, Pathologic is still one of my favourite games of all time. I saw someone say on here that Pathologic 2 is most interesting when allowing the player to decide where love takes them (even if they are led to extremes). Love being at the forefront, regardless of the choices you make, no wrong answers, that's what I appreciated most when playing as Artemy. Whether you chose to kill the three odonghe for Rubin, begged him to stay despite everything, killed Oyun, the Oglimskys, or the pest, it was for the love of something. The internal strife of having a mixed identity too, the rejection and affection from both sides, is something I related to even if the circumstances were miles apart from my own. I wish that Nocturnal aligned with that energy, that the nuances there were a little less stark. That opposing assimilation felt like less of a mistake.

There's a lot more I could delve into but this is pretty long already. This post could all read like nonsense/surface level, but I’m curious to see what other people think! Especially other indigenous folk, I’m dying to know how others interpreted the endings regarding the Kin.

[picthos]

Snape’s Attitudes of Love and Hatred

“If Snape had truly loved Lily, he wouldn’t have tormented Harry. Can it really be called love if he let his hatred drive him to mistreat her son?”

This is a common criticism of Snape, and it certainly raises a valid question. But let us take it one step further—what would Snape’s behavior have looked like if he had completely let go of his hatred?

If he had let go of his hatred towards James Potter and had only loved Lily, silently protecting Harry without ever mistreating him, and if that love had been hidden until the very end, just like in the original story, would anyone have truly called it "obsession"? Most likely not. Even the example provided above focuses primarily on criticizing the abuse driven by hatred.

This suggests that the label of 'obsession' does not stem from love itself, but rather from the unresolved hatred that distorted his actions due to the wound he carried. In other words, what Snape was truly obsessed with was not love, but hatred.

J.K. Rowling herself stated that Snape always saw James in Harry and responded with resentment and loathing. Unlike other characters, Snape was never described as looking into Harry’s eyes and thinking of Lily. She also said that Snape’s true obsession was not Lily, but the Dark Arts—an attachment rooted in his own wounds, isolation, and bullying from his youth.

Even Dumbledore acknowledged that Harry bore certain resemblances to Lily, but Snape found it difficult to accept. In fact, the only moment in which Snape truly saw Lily in Harry was in his final moments, when he asked Harry to look at him so that he could see Lily’s eyes one last time.

The fact that Snape did not cherish Lily’s child does not necessarily mean he failed to love Lily. He was a man who remained anchored in the past, holding on to the memory of Lily as she existed in his mind and heart. He never projected her image onto others, nor did he try to recreate her through someone else. Instead, he preserved her memory as something private, untouched, and sacred.

While Snape projected his hatred onto Harry by seeing James in him, he never projected Lily onto Harry. That, I believe, is the crucial distinction between the hatred he expressed outwardly and the love he guarded inwardly.

What people interpret as “obsession” in Snape’s case stems not from his love, but from his unresolved hatred.

His mistreatment of Harry came not from loving Lily, but from failing to let go of his hatred toward James.

His love remained concealed and while his hatred distorted his actions.

What we see is not obsession with a woman, but obsession with a past filled with bitterness.

“He rang me up and said, ‘Look, I’m spinning plates here. I really need to understand what Snape’s up to? Am I a pure baddie?’ He was the only person I told: ‘You were in love with Harry’s mother.’ “I talked him through it: ‘You are a double agent. But you do dislike Harry. You can’t overcome your quite visceral dislike of this boy who looks just like your arch enemy.’ So I told Alan Rickman what was coming, way before it came in the movies.”- 2024 J. K. Rowling

P.S. — Let me say this with confidence: If Snape had treated Harry with the same intensity of kindness as he showed resentment in the original story—if he had spoken to him gently, or even said something as simple as, “You resemble your mother”—people would have immediately accused him of projecting Lily onto Harry. They would have said things like, “He’s clinging to her ghost,” or “That’s unhealthy,” or even “He’s lost his mind.”

Why? Because Snape has always been seen as an “unpleasant figure,” a “man in the shadows,” someone with a past uncomfortably close to that of a villain. To those who are unsettled by the idea of someone like him being capable of love—even love becomes something to be rejected, pathologized, or ridiculed. So perhaps the question is not whether Snape loved, but whether we ever allowed him to be seen as someone capable of love in the first place.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

By John Flint

A landmark study has found the virus that causes COVID-19 accumulates and persists in the body - especially the brain - for years after infection.

The international team of scientists believe what they have discovered can help explain long COVID.

The research builds on other studies showing the invasiveness of the SARS-CoV-2 virus and the long-term implications.

“Using optical clearing and imaging, we observed the accumulation of SARS-CoV-2 spike protein in the skull-meninges-brain axis of human COVID-19 patients, persisting long after viral clearance,” the study authors reported in leading biomedical journal Cell Host and Microbe last week.

Meninges are three layers of membranes that cover and protect the brain and spinal cord.

Infectious disease experts in Australia have acclaimed the peer-reviewed study.

Professor Brendan Crabb, Director and CEO of the Burnet Institute for Medical Research and Public Health in Melbourne said the study underlined the need to treat COVID more seriously.

“This work uses cutting edge imaging technology to see things (molecules and cellular structures) to a resolution not achieved before in and around the brains of people infected with SARS-Cov-2 and mice infected with a version of SARS-Cov-2 modified to (infect) mice.

“The virus moves around the body, elegantly confirming what we already know.

“This paper shows that the virus, and especially shed spike protein, can persist around the brain for a long period of time, driving a pathological inflammatory response. This is proposed as a likely cause of the neurological symptoms people with acute and long forms of COVID experience.

“Although not without limitations, this works adds substantially to a large body of work that says COVID enters via the respiratory tract but goes into your bloodstream and so quickly moves around the body accessing many tissues, including the outer regions of the brain.

“Virus in this brain region likely persists and seemingly sheds spike protein which can be further neuro-invasive and persist even longer, (for) years even. This spike persistence is pathological, driving inflammatory responses that have likely consequences for proper brain functioning, such as memory, cognition and neurodegenerative diseases.”

“Next time you think of dismissing COVID as just another annoying common cold it may pay to visualise what you see so starkly in this paper, the virus moving freely around your body and finding a long-term home in all sorts of places where it can really cause trouble, including the brain and the heart,” Prof Crabb, who’s on the board of the WA-based Kids Research Institute Australia, added.

“This work further emphasises the need for individuals, and societies as a whole to take this infection more seriously and try and reduce the amount of transmission using the tools we currently have, most especially vaccination, clean indoor air approaches and well-fitted masks in crowded and poorly ventilated indoor settings.”

“It also showed mRNA spike-based vaccines are protective against spike accumulating in the brain periphery, consistent with what we already know about their protective effect in long COVID.”

Perth long COVID sufferer Melissa Challenor has been sick for two years.

“It’s not getting any better for me,” she said on Friday. “People like me are not making shit up. It’s in our brains, it’s in our bodies, it’s in our organs.

“I’m still being seen by the senior neuro physio at Sir Charles Gairdner Hospital who’s been amazing, but now he’s sort of going, ‘Well, where do I refer you? Do I refer you to the Parkinson’s people? Do I refer you to the dementia people?’ Because the neurological symptoms are really quite bad.”

In a commentary published by the Medical Journal of Australia two weeks, researchers from the Burnet Institute said long COVID may be driven by “long infection” and that persistent replicating SARS‐CoV‐2 may be the “unifying driver for long COVID”.

The institute’s Dr Michelle Scoullar said studies had found traces of the virus in many tissues, blood and the gut well after an initial infection.

“We know vaccines can reduce the risk of long COVID, but if the virus continues to be active, antiviral treatments could be a potential treatment for long COVID and might even offer a cure,” she said.

“By prioritising prevention, advancing treatments, and improving access to vaccines, we can take significant steps toward addressing the global challenge of long COVID.”

In the United States, about 5.5 per cent of people infected with COVID experience long-term health effects, including fatigue, muscle pain, and impaired cognitive function.

A recent study demonstrated a lowering of IQ by six points in individuals with long COVID relative to unaffected individuals. Individuals with mild acute infection showed a three‐point drop in IQ. Children can also get long COVID. A US study in August reported symptoms in 6-to-11 year-olds were different to those for adolescents.

Researchers at the NYU Grossman School of Medicine found that “younger children were more likely to experience a cluster of symptoms relating to stomach and digestive problems, and another characterised by sleep and memory/focus issues, while adolescents had a cluster dominated by change in smell or taste.”

Long COVID also carries an economic burden in terms of lost labour hours. It cost the Australian economy about $9.6 billion in 2022, a study by The Kirby Institute at the University of NSW, reported.

[pizzaboat]

I love the glimpse past the mask that Miranda gives in Paris.

She’s self-deprecating. She’s funny. She’s stressed out. She’s trying. She blames herself. She puts her girls’ reputations above her own.

And you think, “Oh, the mask is back up the next day.”

It’s not.

Accusations can be confessions, and when Miranda gives her “you know what people want and they need, and you can choose for yourself” speech, she’s not just being insightful. She’s pathologizing Andy’s loyalty. Turning Andy’s protectiveness into something to study, label, define.

She’s not diagnosing her like a therapist, but she is using Andy’s behaviour to test her own frameworks. Emotional, moral, structural. Like, how do you make sense of someone doing something for you when your whole world is built around controlled coldness? You read them, you turn them into a case study, you fit them into the system so they can make sense.

It’s not a secret that what Andy did meant a lot to her. But Miranda doesn't meet it on its own terms

She reprocesses it. Edits it. Strips the vulnerability and reframes it into analysis. That’s how she keeps it.

She tells Andy, “I was very, very impressed by how intently you tried to warn me.” But then turns around and says Andy is someone who can read people and choose what she wants

It stops being about what Andy did and becomes about what Miranda thinks it means. She folds the feeling back into her worldview.

She’s trying to line them up. Say they’re the same. Diagnosing Andy as her mirror.

“I couldn’t do what you did to Nigel, Miranda. I just couldn’t.”

“You already did… to Emily.”

And that part’s doing double work. It’s not just about holding a mirror up, it’s about pulling Andy in. If Andy already betrayed Emily, then she’s already in the room with Miranda, already complicit

And that means Miranda isn’t alone. That maybe she’s not the only one who’s made these choices. That maybe they’re the same, and Miranda can finally be understood

As I've analysed in the past, Miranda's choice to bring Andy already had layers of self protection and vulnerability as well as ruthlessness, and it also makes sense to imagine that she was creating space between Andy and Emily on purpose

Miranda is the type of person who likes order in her world and Andy has been downright chaotic since day one. She runs on hope of course, as has had high hopes for how Andy could fit into her life. The Miami thing was wildly intense for a week long employment for example

"I had hope, god knows I live on it."

Going to Paris was not just to test Andy, but to break her ties. To see if she’d switch teams. So she could bring her closer. Can Andy survive beside Miranda moving forward or is she weak?

She keeps trying to read Andy. Keeps projecting onto her. She wants Andy to be either the answer to her problems or a threat. And in Paris, she thinks she gets it. That Andy is both. She’s the solution and the snake in the grass. Which feels right to Miranda, because that’s how she sees herself too

And I headcanon that for a smart person, understanding the threat that a person might be feels safer than not knowing when you are already trapped or committed to an environment and it's culture (especially a culture you perpetuate)

But Miranda is wrong about Andy. That’s what happens when you try to pathologize someone with nuanceless bias. She’s smart, but her feelings keep getting in the way of seeing clearly

You can't read people correctly when you have all these intense feelings and you project them. Miranda isn't comfortable with feelings

Like, She gives her daughters everything—except her presence. She provides, but she doesn’t connect. And that shows up in fiction a lot. That kind of character who can’t express affection directly, so they perform it instead. Show love through provision. Through duty. Not intimacy.

"You were never there.”

“I gave you everything you ever needed or wanted.”

“I could never cry to you.”

Boom. 90% of those arguments you see on TV look like that. Can easily see the twins having the same problem witn their mom later

People who struggle with emotions like to act like they don’t exist. That Paris scene, when she acts normal after Andy leaves? That’s not the mask going back up. It’s just the same mask, still on. The cracks never really split it open. She’s always been a storm with a lid.

The only kind of iceberg she is is the model.

So yeah, Miranda’s an incredible Blorbo because she intellectualizes everything but has no real way to feel safely. She turns people into metaphors so she doesn’t have to deal with what they mean to her. She pathologizes everyone, including herself, so she doesn’t drown in the feelings.

I love the Paris part of the movie. So much food. So many breadcrumbs.

[beastsovrevelation]

Michael's so stern, and laconic, she's honestly just... Cold. But, I think she'd be so gallant towards a female love interest.

Damn... Imagine her kissing your hand (and refusing to break eye contact as she does it).

One could swoon. I'd say she definitely goes on one knee to propose.

Her Spartan demeanor does soften in her love interest's presence. A fond smile lights up her lips, and her piercing eyes shine with adoration. She mindlessly does things like brushing a lock of her so's hair behind her ear, putting her arm around her, or having her sit on her lap.

I also think (since she's the Champion) she has a pathological need to protect. Honestly, it might cause tension as she gets patronizing, even controlling. She's used to being obeyed without question, after all.

[meirimerens]

could you expand more on the lavender marriage? i wanted to look up more posts of yours when you mention it but... tumblr search function... function't...

I don't think I've said much about it because it's kinda self-explanatory okay so the lavender marriage mention [that I can rember] is from le fameux "inheriting the earth" + 5yrs patho kids now adult designs & lore post with both Khan & Capella having "[material] wedding ring, purposefully mismatched as a sign of lavender marriage". for the uninitiated a "lavender marriage" is a type of marriage of convenience that one (or both) party/ies enter to conceal their homosexuality and attempt to reap the social benefits and personal safety of being in a heterosexual marriage. it can happen with both spouses being gay and using the appearance of a heterosexual pair for reciprocal protection, or only one of them being gay and entering the marriage for protection, the non-gay partner may or may not be aware of the other's homosexuality. if both spouses are gay, they may typically lend each other freedom to see other people.

in khan & capella's situation, a marriage of convenience is decided upon early [cf. Capella's lines] for the sake of "bringing the families together" (political alliance). Oh I have sooo much to think about how the older generation (in that case Maria and Vlad Jr) expect the one after them to rub off their blood and rebuild their shed (pivotal element of pathologic anyways [cf. Burakh]) but that's not about this rn. anyways yes marriage of political interests.

anyways now this is where I'm real I think they're both homosexual. capella knows this about khan because she's clairvoyant. khan knows this about himself. he knows capella knows when she gives him her little bunny smile and he remembers she's clairvoyant. he learns later [this is still pre-wedding] she is too and is like oooooh so we fundamentally can't love each other. thank god I just thought it was a me problem. Capella had been taking theatre classes and she learned to do a theatre-kiss [move the mouth to the side so the other kisses cheek, head angle important] for the wedding day. They shamelessly lie to the population to explain why they, bit by bit, stop living together very quickly after the wedding ("we need separate blankets he keeps stealing if off me" "we need separate bed she has such cold feet it's giving me the shivers" "we need separate rooms he snores" "we need separate houses my presence is draining her of her powers"). Maria knows that's not the truth, she's clairvoyant. Whether she feels anything for the brokenness of the ruling families having been pushed onto her brother as a teenager I haven't decided yet. Katerina knows because she's clairvoyant. Basically all the kids know they don't like each other and a select few adults do (not about the gay thing they just think they're in a normal loveless marriage of convenience like is unfortunately really common [a lot had own parents in one] just slightly happier about it)

In my mind's eye (in my eyes' mind) they both have their own lives pretty separate. Khan fucks off overseas, goes to boarding school, and travels, sends back copious amounts of books. Capella gets the telegram installed into the town and he sends short updates on his travels. She stays in town for Mistress Purposes, reads plenty of books and orders khan to go fetch some in obscure londonian libraries, carries the new administration on her shoulders frankly. the marriage stays as a constant reminded to the oldest siblings and the rest of the adults that it is their bullshit that created this unnatural and uncomfortable situation which reflects poorly on the town with how free both "spouses" live their lives. Capella goes dancing with the girls in the warehouses. Khan routinely goes and hang out with [gestures] this one guy who we don't know what their problem is or if they even have a problem anymore. nobody will let them divorce because that would force the town to reckon with its massive political mistakes and fundamentally broken systems. Capella had gone dancing with the girls in the warehouses on her wedding night and khan had found himself there also because he wanted to tell off notkin for running his mouth during the "speak now or forever hold your peace" and insulting the oldest siblings for cf. like 2 paragraph above and when these two begin jokingly asking what capella is even doing here in this dress she goes "it's my wedding day!!" and they make faces and pretend to be gobsmacked and khan says "and I wasn't even invited??" anyways yeah. very funny to me.

okay now what's this "i haven't said much because it's self-explanatory" >proceeds to say much. well hope you enjoyed.

[lilyminer]

One thing that has consistently kept my mind on the world of Pathologic since my p2 playthrough started a few months ago is these incredibly profound aspects of the characters.

Spoilers for lots of p2 and probably some of my half understood snippets of p1 below.

Firstly it’s stuff like how Artemy’s mother died giving birth to him, he lost his brother, and the day he returned to his home the last remaining member of his family died. But then as if like a reflexive response he was drawn to not only protect but adopt some of the children of the town to build a new family around the broken remains of his previous one. As if he couldn’t bear to not have a family to return to. And for a couple of kids, Murky and Sticky have their own complicated relationships to his father. He took in those his father failed to truly care for in the way they deserved. I think about how the three of them would navigate their feelings about Isidor together especially as the kids grow up and his actions become recontextualized in their minds. To me, the deaths of Murky’s parents and other townspeople in the first outbreak feels portrayed as a preventable mistake by the narrative. How will Murky’s relationship to that tragedy and the love for his family she carries with her shift as she grows up in a new loving household?

On to another non-traditional family dynamic, though this one doesn’t exactly stick, Grace and Peter. I can not stop thinking about what it means that Grace, the sweet girl who can hear the spirits of the dead and tends to all the graves in the graveyard, gravitated to Peter as a father figure, Peter who is haunted by ghosts in his own, much darker way. A little psychic who can hear ghost and her father, a murderer. It’s fascinating. I have so many questions (some which might have answers but I’ve only played p2 and don’t pay attention ✌️☺️) Like, if the ghosts speak to Grace so often, how is it that she doesn’t already know about the murder? Does she know about the murder? What, if anything coherent, can she hear from Farkhad? Does he mutter bitter hatred like a classic scary vengeful ghost? Does he whisper words of forgiveness? What does her trust and familial love of Peter represent? The innocent forgiveness only a child can give? A cosmic will for him to move on from his past and forgive himself? A sinister gap in her information which might, one day, be filled? I’ve scoured dialogue to try to figure this out but I still feel like I’m missing something, which I suppose might be intended. I love their contrast as representations of innocence and guilt.

Also on the topic of Peter, who I may just have become fascinated with because I failed to even meet him in my own playthrough of p2, his psychology and other relationships are endlessly interesting to me. I love how he’s stated to be the real genius between him and his brother, but maybe even because of his immense intelligence Peter is the one who is trapped in the mistakes of his past. You hear it a lot, that a lot of highly intelligent people get trapped in only focusing on their flaws and never reach their full potential because of it. And so Andrey moved on from . . . committing an actual murder, ok bro good on you I guess, and ends up running a successful business. He’s so successful and holds so much influence in the town that Andrey ends up seeing himself as his brothers protector, the one who needs to care for him. Yet the reason Peter appears so ambition-less and helpless in his current state is because of the crime he and his brother committed together. His intelligence is his downfall and I think that’s such an underused character type.

I have something to say about nearly every family dynamic in the entire setting. Even what is implied about the town at large since the first outbreak with the overabundance of orphaned children. P2 has so much to say about what family means to people. What you inherit, what you are owed by family. I appreciate the nuance the theme is given immensely. But I can’t talk about everything here so I’ll leave you with two under qualified adoptive dads and everyone’s favourite twin brothers.

Don’t mind me broaching all these interesting nuanced little points for discussion all at once, they just all fit into a similar place in my mind. I’m curious if people who have gone further into the franchise than me have their own takes. Is this just as fascinating and thought provoking to you guys? Also let me know if I’ve missed anything relevant!

[the-berries-and-the-plums]

birch trees is such a sweet song, and the innocent, youthful tone makes me think susan’s romanticism—her need to experience life as a story—comes from a much younger, more vulnerable part of her. rolling up birch tree bark like a cigar and using it to whistle a birdsong isn’t just poetic flourish; it’s play, like something a grandparent might teach a young child. susan, distant from her grandmama growing up, perhaps never got to have that kind of childhood experience. now, she is free to provide that joy and magic of play to herself. even common annoyances, like getting gravel in your shoe, are rewritten as moments of magic and whimsy, personifying the gravel as “nibbling on your toes.” in happy/crazy, she expresses how much she loves the freedom to “laugh and play and sing and swing,” now that “the world is away”,—not just an embrace of joy, but a reclamation of something lost.

i think that her need to be part of a grand, whimsical story (real af btw) probably comes from childhood. her ability to effortlessly access this childlike wonder, to see magic in the everyday, to shape her life into a storybook fable—this has probably always been how she protects herself from uncertainty, both moral and existential (“nonfiction is harder than fiction”). narrativizing isn’t just how she makes sense of things; it’s how she holds onto that younger self who still feels safest in the immersive, magical embrace of a good story, shielding her from being swallowed by grief and uncertainty. it’s also probably why she became a novelist, drawn as she was to the allure of storytelling. the tragedy is that in doing so, she also walls herself off from real connection. because to let life happen outside the boundaries of a controlled story is to risk pain, to risk being a character instead of the author—reacting instead of deciding, swept along instead of shaping. but stories are meant to be shared; they are fundamentally about connection. for susan, they often become a fortress (a clochán?) rather than a bridge.

this part of her is terrified of losing control of her own story, which is why she chooses to divorce julian rather than follow him, even though she has no real reason for staying in new york. if she moves for julian, she’s neither the author nor the main character of the story anymore; she’s a secondary character in his. for someone whose sense of self is so deeply tied to authorship, this isn’t just a practical or emotional dilemma—it’s a fundamental threat to her identity. for this part of her, co-creating a story with julian—one of their move, rather than his move—is not even an option; there must be a singular, undisputed truth.

but this part of her isn’t inherently wrong, or regressive, or unhealthy. we can see that this part isn’t just about protection; it’s deeply creative and generative. it’s what allows her to find joy and pleasure, even in the middle of the trauma of a global pandemic, to feel connected to her grandmama in a way she was never able to before. the cause of her pain and tormented rumination isn’t this part of her—it’s the way she pushes it away, pathologizes it (“trying to trace the tumor,” “the demon inside of me”), demands justification for it (“why am i like this?”), shames it (“i know that i shouldn’t be happy”).

maybe if susan can “dance” with this part of herself (her ‘wolf’), she can help it to become “unstuck” from its rigid habits, to recognize that now, as an adult, she has other strategies she can rely on, and to invite it to take on a new role. maybe then it can stop carrying the burden of hypervigilance, of being a ‘firefighter’ tasked with extinguishing “the bubble of panic inside” whenever uncertainty rears its head. perhaps it could trust that it’s safe to let go a bit and do what it really longs to: to honor the wonder and magic in the everyday, to help susan tell her story on her own terms, to fuel her creativity rather than control her life.

[lazy-sixteen]

I understand it was almost four months ago, but I saw your post about underrated Pathologic dynamics and loved your commentary on Capella and Artemy in 2! I’m really curious to hear what you made of them in Classic?

Sorry this took so long to answer! But yes, I would love to chat about it!!

[text in image descriptions below]

First off, I think the first thing is that Pathologic 1 characters are, in general, less personable. Which isn't to say that they aren't well-written or likeable, simply that a lot of Pathologic 2's emotional impact and self-imposed difficulty comes from making you emotionally attached to the characters to give you a goal in keeping them alive (and hurting you when you fail, rip Notkin). On the other hand, Pathologic 1 characters are more interested in swaying you to their specific ideology and you probably mostly want them alive so Block doesn't 'bad end' you.

The other Pathologic 1 thing to me is that the healers all sort of operate on different levels of reality. The Bachelor operates on the closest thing to real-world logic - he responds to a plague with quarantine measures, to the idea of 'prophecy' with skepticism, and eventually to the world of pathologic itself with frustration and hate. The Changeling operates more on meta-logic, she already knows about the Powers that Be, the more malleable nature of reality, and the uncertainty of her own nature.

The Haruspex however, operates on the closest thing to in-game logic, which means he is perfectly willing to accept that Capella is a prophetic seer who is going to be extremely powerful soon, especially if he supports her so that they can bring about a Town in line with their goals (alive, and without the Polyhedron which hurts the Earth/empowers the Kains).

I think because they are operating on the exact same page here, Capella tends to be very forthright about being on Artemy's side and offering him aid.

And Artemy in turn tends to be upfront about asking her questions and acting on her visions.

But I wouldn't say they have warmer relationship because I think for all their friction pathologic 2 Artemy and Capella are closer to acting like a parent+child or pair of siblings. Artemy arguing that Capella is a child and shouldn't and can't bear the burden on protecting the Town's children on her own, and her losing the 'serene Mistress' bit to argue back are more indicative of a familial affection that isn't just based on their being allies.

However, I do think that pathologic 1 Artemy and Capella are far more trusting. Capella is extremely upfront about her future plans and what help she needs from Artemy, as well as upfront about offering him aid. Artemy in return, tends to go "Sure whatever you need, Victoria 👍" whenever Capella asks him to do something (usually kill a guy [or many guys 🔪🔪🔪] or check up on the other Termites) and seems very trusting of any explanations or visions she has.

I think this is especially interesting in the context of the other Healer+Mistress pairs, which are very marked by deception and betrayal. Clara is partially unknowingly lying to Katerina about who/what she is, and Katerina will end up abandoning Clara when she comes to doubt her on day 6.

The even greater contrast is Daniil and Maria, of course. We know Maria as a cunning, powerful seer guided/possessed by her mother's spirit as she orchestrates her rise to power through the Polyhedron's miracles [not a criticism, I support women's wrongs, lol], but Dannil spends basically his entire route unaware of this and indeed, seems to think of her a sheltered and sensitive young woman (though there is also some underlying mistrust, given he immediately suspects her in Eva's suicide)

TLDR: They are in cahoots! Which is very funny, in the "All the named characters are lying to you" game