Morwen > Recent Status Updates

‘Maybe fighting is knowing there’s darkness in you, and still choosing to do what’s right,’ she said. She wanted to believe it. But it wasn’t as simple as that.

“Does a princess have a lot of pent-up anger to unleash?”
“I think everyone is angry.” I shrug, flicking over another page even though my brain stopped absorbing the words a while ago. “Anger is often disappointed hope.”

‘I think what people were is less important than what they are. And what people are is less important than what they could be.’

This is exactly what I hoped it would be, and probably better. Like all good fantasies, it can be a bit rough in the beginning to learn all the names, roles and who's on who's side, but now that I'm past that point I'm enjoying it a lot! Feels like a TRUE fantasy story! 😍

I'm a bit confused about Theo's time line. Is the situation with Cathy happening now or in the past?

Truthfully? That definition of the effect of weed was just spot on...

I still have no idea where this is going but I like the male narrator's voice

😂😂💯👌🏻✨
“We’ve had a very bad time, and we didn’t get what we came for, and I feel we ought to get a refund.”
King Yama fell silent for a moment. She could not read his face. Slowly he said, “You feel you ought to get a refund from Hell.”

Clutch she did indeed, very tightly, for if she pressed hard enough, then she could make herself his shield and protect him from everything in the universe. What a miracle a person was, she thought. They took up so little space. The difference between presence and absence was not even a square meter of matter. Yet now that Peter was here, the whole world shone brighter.

FUCK YES!!!

Professor Grimes was not good at being dead, did not have the fortitude of mind, hadn’t come close to conquering Hell, and Alice found this deeply disappointing. It was all so unfair, she thought. You thought people were giants, and they devastated you by being so human.

Ok this is turning out better than I expected from the beginning BY FAR. Ijusr need Peter back and I'll be happy. Please please please.

Alice watched his grayness undulating around the fire and wondered what it was like to exist so long that your practical identity was no longer hinged to a time or a place, but a question.

Wow that's one long epilogue 😅

“Marks.” Gradus chuckled. “No, they don’t tell you anything unless you’ve passed. We don’t get revisions. We receive no feedback whatsoever. We just wait in anticipation forever and ever, until hope turns to panic to disappointment. If you hear nothing, then you must assume you’ve failed. Only there’s never confirmation, and timelines here mean nothing, and so it’s up to you when to extinguish your own hope.”

She sensed its inner sin—a biting, evil thing; that force that poisoned bonds, turned friend against friend and kin against kin. She could only describe that feeling as a violation; the sharpest, severest pain, that which pierced in her inner depths where she felt most safe.

This is the source of our unease. A paradox means that somewhere along the path, we have gotten something deeply, terribly wrong.

And Alice—who stood stock-still with his brains and skull fragments and blood splattered across her face—could not stop laughing. For a way out had opened up after all. And it seemed the most hilarious thing in the world, in that instant, that it nevertheless led straight to Hell.

It’s nowhere so neat. Karma is more like—hm. You might say karma is like a seed. Seeds grow into fruit. Karma is a natural consequence. Badness accrues. It affects the way you live your life, how you perceive the world. When you do evil things, you see the world as petty and selfish and cruel. And what you experience in Hell is just the final ripple effect of your original evil.

Those were not her memories; those faces were not of her loved ones. They struck a deep nostalgia in her just the same, the nostalgia you got looking inside brightly lit windows along the street at night; peeking into lives you might just have had.

We might share the same cells, bodily continuity, and memories as previous iterations of ourselves. But that is all. There is no further fact of the matter—no essential us hovering like a specter. We bear the same relationship to the version of ourselves from ten years ago as we might to a sibling.

All Alice needed for company was the confident scribble of Peter’s chalk beside her. She was not alone. She was safe. There was at least a single other soul in this universe who vibrated at her same frequency. And really that was the happiest Alice had ever felt—how wonderful, truly, to have a friend whose silence you adored.

“I have concluded that your lying, sleeping self has a single motive. And it is to continue sleeping for as long as possible. You will answer in any way that convinces your interlocutor to leave you alone. For instance, see here, my transcript from Wednesday—I ask you if you are an eggplant. And you agree you are an eggplant, but that I shouldn’t worry, and that everything is fine. You are incorrigible, Law.”

It was in the midnight hours, when the mind fractured and things stopped making sense and the boundaries of the possible became fluid, that they did their best work. And in these hours, Alice experienced for the first time what she thought it might be like to fall in love.

“Just assume we are one person. Your ends are my ends and vice versa. What hurts you hurts me. Our goals are staying together, and pursuing what is best for ourselves as a joint unit.”Alice did not think this was how real relationships worked, at least not from the ones she’d witnessed, but it did sound nice in theory. “Where did you learn that?”
“Immanuel Kant.”
“Wasn’t Kant a virgin?”

“You want me to pretend that I love you.”
“It’s easy,” he said. “Just assume our wills are united.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, that we want all the same things. That we want what’s best for each other. That we take one another’s ends as our own, and that our ideal outcome is one in which we’re together. Haven’t you ever been in love?”

When it came down to it magick was a wish, a prayer, and a little, anchoring fiction.
So was personhood, for that matter.
So was a coherent subjectivity.
And so was the courage to get up every morning and not plan to die.

That bad joke of a "mother" really make it hard to remember that physical violence is a bad thing

Those who had nothing substantial to brag about bragged the loudest. Stay silent and ignore the chattering crowd—this was proof you had something real to be proud of.

How she can make this much spice not be boring is beyond my understanding 😂💯✨💫