#as allude to my ‘child like’ brain function

[darkwood-sleddog]

There is a weird kind of ick to me when dog button people allude to the fact that a dog can be “taught” to communicate. As if they don’t communicate already? As if westernized Americanized human English is the be all end all of communication? Like fuck off.

[joydemorra]

Do you ever start something as a joke and lose complete control over your life?

In a world of dwindling hope, love has never mattered more... [read the full blurb here]

What is Hunger Pangs?

Hunger Pangs, often shortened to “Phangs” by the self-proclaimed phangdom, is my debut romance novel, published in Nov 2020, featuring a deaf, disabled werewolf, a neurodivergent, mad scientist vampire, and an all-powerful enchantress who is the last of her kind.

It is the first book in a slow-burn, polyamorous gaslamp fantasy romance series focusing on the relationship(s) and antics of the three main characters, Nathan Northland, Vlad Blutstein, and Lady Ursula, as they work to save the world they love from imminent magical and ecological disaster.

The first book primarily focuses on the relationship between Nathan and Vlad, with Ursula heavily alluded to in the next book (Pride and Folly) via some shameless flirting and stolen, impulsive kisses.

No love triangles here. Just three highly competent, world-saving bisexuals sharing the same brain cell the closer they get to each other.

There are two editions of the novel. The Flirting with Fangs edition depicts on-page sexual acts, and the Fluff and Fangs edition which uses alternative scenes/fade-to-black scenes for those who prefer not to read depictions of sex. You can read more about why I decided to do this here.

How Did Phangs come to be?

Like most things on my blog, the original concept began as a joke. My friend and enabler, @jeneelestrange, and I were talking about our least favorite tropes in romance/erotica, including but not limited to toxic “alpha” werewolves, brooding stalker vampire boyfriends, and the absolute profound bullshit that is the Conflicted Love Triangle and Bury Your Gays.

Eventually, it culminated in this post:

(source)

It was meant to be a joke. I really cannot emphasize this enough. It was meant to be a shitpost between friends.

A throwaway ADHD impulse.

Tumblr, however, wanted more of these posts, and like a swarming mass of drift-compatible rats in a trench coat, grabbed hold of my lack of impulse control and Ratatouille'd me into becoming an international bestselling author, and, well, here we are.

I also started writing the series while dying, which I highly do not recommend as a functional creative process.

Absolutely do not start a 500k five-part novel series about love and hope while dying from an undiagnosed genetic disorder. Or if you do, make sure you actually die so you don't have to edit the damn thing. (I am mostly kidding.)

What are the themes/tropes/character dynamics of the book?

In the simplest of terms, Phangs is a queer-polyamorous-paranormal-satirical-romance series featuring vampires, werewolves, and all other manner of creatures that go bump in the night.

It is set in a pseudo-regency meets fake-Victorian Gaslamp Fantasy world, complete with gothic castles, enchanted forests, and just a smidge of industrial coal dust.

Style-wise, Phangs has been described by readers as "like reading the queer, goth love child of Terry Pratchett meets Jane Austen," and I've never been more proud of anything in my life.

If Game of Thrones ascribes to the idea that the night is dark and full of terrors, Phangs is the monster-fucker politely sidling up to them at the bar and asking if they can buy them a drink.

It is also primarily a love letter to fandom, which has led some people to believe it’s fanfiction with the serial labels filed off. But as the person who spent five years agonizing over the world-building, I can assure you this is all very much the product of my weird little ADHD brain picking up tropes, shaking them upside down, and running off with whatever fun and interesting things shake loose.

As already stated, the first book, True Love Bites, focuses primarily on the relationship between Captain Nathaniel J. Northland and Viscount Vlad Blutstein.

The first part of the book primarily focuses on Nathan coming home injured from war and trying to find his place in the world as newly deaf and disabled -- something which alienates him from his werewolf family, who don't know what to do with an injury that can't be mended by a full moon.

While working on the island of Eyrie, he encounters Viscount Blutstein -- Vlad-- a neurodivergent, mad scientist dandy vampire with an enthusiasm for demonic botany and a streak of unfailing kindness as broad and expansive as the sky.

It's not so much love at first sight for the pair as instantaneous lust hampered by the restrictions of polite 1880 society and old ingrained prejudices that make them think the other couldn't possibly be interested in them that way. They're just misreading all those heartfelt stares and sexually charged chess games.

(The love is requited, your honor, they're just idiots.)

Both characters are explicitly queer/mspec, as is Ursula, who drops into their world like a magical atom bomb going off, but not before she spends her own parts of the book desperately trying to figure out what manner of dark entity is killing the magical shrines around the world that keep the world alive.

Thematically, the series touches on many things, but the book’s overriding theme is love. Romantically, of course, and love between families, both found or otherwise. But also love as an act of courage. As a choice. An act of defiance in dark and troubling times, and what it means to be loved and belong even though you’re different.

Especially when you’re different.

And I really fucking hope you enjoy it.

To read the full synopsis and check out the heat ratings, buy links and content tags, go to www.joydemorra.com

[thebibliosphere]

Do you ever start something as a joke and lose complete control over your life?

In a world of dwindling hope, love has never mattered more... [<< read the rest of the blurb here]

What is Hunger Pangs?

Hunger Pangs, often shortened to “Phangs” by the self-proclaimed phangdom, is my debut romance novel, published in Nov 2020, featuring a deaf, disabled werewolf, a neurodivergent, mad scientist vampire, and an all-powerful enchantress who is the last of her kind.

It is the first book in a slow-burn, polyamorous gaslamp fantasy romance series focusing on the relationship(s) and antics of the three main characters, Nathan Northland, Vlad Blutstein, and Lady Ursula, as they work to save the world they love from imminent magical and ecological disaster.

The first book primarily focuses on the relationship between Nathan and Vlad, with Ursula heavily alluded to in the next book (Pride and Folly) via some shameless flirting and stolen, impulsive kisses.

No love triangles here. Just three highly competent, world-saving bisexuals sharing the same brain cell the closer they get to each other.

There are two editions of the novel. The Flirting with Fangs edition depicts on-page sexual acts, and the Fluff and Fangs edition which uses alternative scenes/fade-to-black scenes for those who prefer not to read depictions of sex. You can read more about why I decided to do this here.

How Did Phangs come to be?

Like most things on my blog, the original concept began as a joke. My friend and enabler, @jeneelestrange, and I were talking about our least favorite tropes in romance/erotica, including but not limited to toxic “alpha” werewolves, brooding stalker vampire boyfriends, and the absolute profound bullshit that is the Conflicted Love Triangle and Bury Your Gays.

Eventually, it culminated in this post:

(source)

It was meant to be a joke. I really cannot emphasize this enough. It was meant to be a shitpost between friends.

A throwaway ADHD impulse.

Tumblr, however, wanted more of these posts, and like a swarming mass of drift-compatible rats in a trench coat, grabbed hold of my lack of impulse control and Ratatouille'd me into becoming an international bestselling author, and, well, here we are.

I also started writing the series while dying, which I highly do not recommend as a functional creative process.

Absolutely do not start a 500k five-part novel series about love and hope while dying from an undiagnosed genetic disorder. Or if you do, make sure you actually die so you don't have to edit the damn thing. (I am mostly kidding.)

What are the themes/tropes/character dynamics of the book?

In the simplest of terms, Phangs is a queer-polyamorous-paranormal-satirical-romance series featuring vampires, werewolves, and all other manner of creatures that go bump in the night.

It is set in a pseudo-regency meets fake-Victorian Gaslamp Fantasy world, complete with gothic castles, enchanted forests, and just a smidge of industrial coal dust.

Style-wise, Phangs has been described by readers as "like reading the queer, goth love child of Terry Pratchett meets Jane Austen," and I've never been more proud of anything in my life.

If Game of Thrones ascribes to the idea that the night is dark and full of terrors, Phangs is the monster-fucker politely sidling up to them at the bar and asking if they can buy them a drink.

It is also primarily a love letter to fandom, which has led some people to believe it’s fanfiction with the serial labels filed off. But as the person who spent five years agonizing over the world-building, I can assure you this is all very much the product of my weird little ADHD brain picking up tropes, shaking them upside down, and running off with whatever fun and interesting things shake loose.

As already stated, the first book, True Love Bites, focuses primarily on the relationship between Captain Nathaniel J. Northland and Viscount Vlad Blutstein.

The first part of the book primarily focuses on Nathan coming home injured from war and trying to find his place in the world as newly deaf and disabled -- something which alienates him from his werewolf family, who don't know what to do with an injury that can't be mended by a full moon.

While working on the island of Eyrie, he encounters Viscount Blutstein -- Vlad-- a neurodivergent, mad scientist dandy vampire with an enthusiasm for demonic botany and a streak of unfailing kindness as broad and expansive as the sky.

It's not so much love at first sight for the pair as instantaneous lust hampered by the restrictions of polite 1880 society and old ingrained prejudices that make them think the other couldn't possibly be interested in them that way. They're just misreading all those heartfelt stares and sexually charged chess games.

(The love is requited, your honor, they're just idiots.)

Both characters are explicitly queer/mspec, as is Ursula, who drops into their world like a magical atom bomb going off, but not before she spends her own parts of the book desperately trying to figure out what manner of dark entity is killing the magical shrines around the world that keep the world alive.

Thematically, the series touches on many things, but the book’s overriding theme is love. Romantically, of course, and love between families, both found or otherwise. But also love as an act of courage. As a choice. An act of defiance in dark and troubling times, and what it means to be loved and belong even though you’re different.

Especially when you’re different.

Both of you...

And I really fucking hope you enjoy it.

To read the full synopsis and check out the heat ratings, buy links and content tags, go to www.joydemorra.com

[anna-t-dote]

Why is it everytime I go to get my prescriptions, the Pharmacists talk to me like I'm a naughty child....last time it was because he assumed I was running out of my meds, and because they're primarily prescribed for epilepsy, and I'm on a high dose, he was implying I'm irresponsible, and this time it was about how I really need to sort out a prepaid prescription to save money. Like I know but I'm very busy okay. I know its run out but if the OTHER prescriptions didn't allude to the fact my brain doesn't fucking function that well, well here's me making it clear.

[thefact0rygirl]

HOMECOMING | Boba Fett x Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Boba Fett x Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Dom!Boba, bdsm elements, light bdsm, degradation, spitting, face slapping, pussy slapping, female masturbation, voyeurism, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, mention of a safe word, alluding to a size kink, breeding kink, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie, vaginal plugging

A/N: This is the follow-up to Late Night Romantics. I tried to write this in such a way that you don’t need to read LNR before this, but if you do, you can read LNR here. 

{late night romantics} {masterlist} {cross-posted on ao3}

“That’s not yours.”

You choke, all functions coming to a screeching halt. Your eyes shoot open to see the menacing bounty hunter staring down at you. 

Boba Fett is back. And he’s pissed. 

You look like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. And in a backwards way, you sort of are. 

Your last communication from Boba was over a week ago. It was a simple message, but with enough punch to leave you struggling ever since. 

ETA 7 standard days. Don’t touch yourself until then. I’ll know if you do. 

If the phrase “fuck around and find out” could materialize itself, it would be as Boba Fett. He is not someone to cross in life and in sex, and you had every intention of following his order. Truly. 

But then seven days turned into nine and Slave I had yet to break through the atmosphere of your home planet. You couldn’t wait to feel his weight on top of you, but you also were growing increasingly frustrated.

The thought of him, his body on yours, his rough hands grasping your throat...

Even if they were just whispers of your imagination, they had you sexually frustrated and miserable. Waiting for his touch again felt like a divine punishment and a divine reward rolled into one.

It was another night of tossing and turning when you kicked off your blanket in an exasperated huff. 

It’s not like he’s even in the same system as you…

Your hands slide under your tunic, dancing across your stomach before moving in opposite directions — one to massage your chest and the other to your pulsing core. It doesn’t take much to warm yourself up, with one hand pumping in and out while the other moved against your clit as you chased sweet release. You were almost there, toes curling and muscles tensing, when his surly voice broke the midnight silence. 

Oh seven hells, he’s going to kill you.

Frozen with your hands still between your legs, you feel your wetness forming a wet spot on your sheets. You couldn’t even bullshit your way out of it, it’s obvious what you were doing and Maker knows how long he had been lurking in the shadows. 

The fact that his helmet blocks you from reading his expression only adds to the fear-riddled pleasure growing in your lower half. He says nothing, standing still with his hands on his hips. You know you should move, but your brain is still stuttering from your almost orgasm and Boba looming over you. 

Throat dry, you struggle with every lungful of air. “I, uh, didn’t hear you come in.”

“That was the point.”

“But—”

“But what? You wouldn’t have touched yourself?”

There is no mercy in his voice, no affection. Boba crouches down until his helmet inches away from your face. He’s right next to you. If it wasn’t for his helmet, you could feel his hot breath against your cheek. 

You don’t brave to look at him, keeping your eyes glued to the ceiling and hope it would cave in. That’s a better option than whatever punishment Boba has planned for you. 

“I rush across the galaxy, thinking you’re being a good girl,” He grips your chin, forcing you to turn towards him. “And I find you playing with my pussy.”

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, words fuddling together from his death grip.

He scoffs, “No you’re not. But you will be.”

He shoves your chin away only to slap your cheek, his leather gloves leaving behind a stinging pain. 

He stands, nodding towards your tunic. “Take it off.”

You swallow, but remain frozen in place, watching him stalk to the end of the bed. 

“Did I stutter?”

He’s like a predator seeking its prey and there is no escape. You do as you’re told, pulling the tunic off your body while Boba wraps a hand around each of your ankles. He yanks you forward until your legs are dangling off the bed on each side of him. Hissing from the abrupt movement, the top layer of your skin burns to compliment the stinging on your cheek. 

Finding a crumb of confidence, you sit up on your elbows to see Boba ripping his helmet off. His upset is written all over his face, from the dark shadows under his sunken eyes to his clenched jaw, he is not happy. 

“Boba,” You whimper as he forces your legs wide open so he can kneel between them. Leaning down, he lets his breath punctuate his words against your wet folds. 

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Y—Yours.”

“That’s right,” A sharp slap lands on top of your cunt. Your jerk away as jagged pain jolts mixes with your existing arousal. “And I’m gonna use it as I want. This pussy is mine.”

With his dark eyes locked with yours, he dives in. Flattening his tongue, he licks broad, flat stroke along your slit. Back and forth, up and down, letting you indulge in what you have been dreaming about. Because of your solo session, it doesn’t take long for the familiar pleasure to bubble up. 

He is careful to leave your sensitive clit alone, for now, instead focusing his attention to your entrance. Your legs tense when he pokes his tongue inside you to scoop up a bead of your arousal. The sweet taste blooms on his tongue, and he can’t help but go back in for seconds.  

“Fuck, nothing sweeter in the galaxy. Did you miss my tongue?”

You nod, eyes trained on the sight of him lapping your core. “Yes, I missed your tongue.”

“You miss me?” His lips lock around your clit and moans, the vibrations buzzing through you. 

“Yes!” You cry as you revel in his tongue running along your clitoral hood, coaxing your sensitive nub out. Feeling your legs move to close around his head, Boba pushes back, keeping them pinned as he speeds up his assault. He continues sucking, his tongue lewd and lascivious, until you explode. 

Heart slamming and belly clenching, you surrender to Boba, moaning as ecstasy sears you, leaving your sensibility burned to ash. He laps up every last drop you give him, carrying you through your orgasm until it’s too much. Pleasure fades from your body, but he continues with delicate strokes, swallowing up your release until your nerves cry out in pain. 

Your shaky hands move to his head in an attempt to push him away, “B—Boba, I can’t.”

“You can,” He plunges his fingers inside you. “And you will.”

The pleasure grinds against your nerves with every spiked thrust of his fingers. “I didn’t haul ass for one, pathetic orgasm. You stop when I say so.”

You hiccup over your breath, your hands yanking on the short curls until you’re certain you’re pulling hair. 

Boba stops, hovering over your clit. “Do you need to use your safe word?”

The safe word.

Even when Boba is rough and dominating, overstimulating you as he takes and takes from you, there’s a surprising lovingness in there. Something sweet to soothe the pain. Something to keep you eager for more. 

You have been replaying the same image for weeks now, rubbing yourself to a weak release, and now he is here. Even through the pains of overstimulation, you don’t want it to end. 

You want this. 

You want to fall apart, give yourself to him and maybe, just maybe, he won’t leave for another bounty. He’ll stay with you, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and love, and pump you full of his seed. 

You shake your head, loosening your grip on his hair as the green light for him to continue. And he does. Back on you, he strokes quick flicks at your sensitive nub while pumping his fingers inside you. With every stroke to your g-spot, ache muddles with pleasure, filling your head and veins. From there, all it takes is his gruff voice to set off another shattering orgasm.

“Come now. Right now.”

Vision darkening, you grind against his face feeling your dripping juices coat his chin and mouth. 

When he finally pulls away, he wraps a hand under your jaw and squeezes his fingers into the joints until your mouth falls into an ‘o’ shape. 

“Open.”

He reels back and spits, a mixture of his saliva and your taste landing on your tongue. He watches your throat bob as you swallow and murmurs, “Dirty little brat.”

Loosening his grip on your jaw, he lets you sit up only to crash your lips together. Your spirits pull together as his tongue twines with yours in a fight for control. You hear fabric shuffling before Boba pulls away to finish undoing the pants on his flight suit. 

His wicked laugh cools the remnants of your burning orgasm. “Should’ve listened, little one. Should’ve been good because now I’m not letting you go.”

Grabbing his cock he slides it back and forth across your pussy letting your juices mix together with his precum. 

His other hand travels to the nape of your neck, wrapping around and forcing your head down until your chin is buried in your chest. 

“Eyes open,” Boba sighs, watching your hole flutter against his head. “Watch me split you.”

You’re so wet, stickiness covering your thighs, but even so, he’s too big. Too thick for you to take all at once, no matter how wet you are…or how desperate.

With you hypnotized at the sight of him entering you, he moves his hands to grip your hips. He drags you back and forth on his cock, easing in a little bit farther each time. Your hips jerk, but he holds you still, letting you feel every inch of his thick cock invade you.

Taking you.

Claiming you. 

“That’s it. Take it like a good girl. C’mon, I know you can.”

You whine, fisting the sheets once he’s finally sheathed inside of you. The familiar scratch of his flight suit brushes your inner thighs. 

“Boba, you’re so big.”

Boba leans forward, biting your neck before growling in your ear, “Fuck. How are so fucking tight?”

“Me? Did you get bigger?”

He laughs, smiling for the first time that night. “No, pretty girl. Still the same.”

He can claim anger and upset for as long as he chooses, but deep down he missed you. His mouth pushes against yours again in a burning, mind-numbing kiss. You trace his bottom lip with your tongue as he pulls out, leaving you almost entirely before sinking back it. You cry out, breaking your connected lips, as he starts moving in blunt thrusts, working through your tight muscles. 

There is nothing slow or gentle about his movements. He is entering you over and over again, hard and fast just like you had imagined every night. 

With a particularly hard thrust, he lunges forward to pin you down to the bed. His forearms cage you in between him as his hands craddle your head. With your foreheads pressed together, he whispers dirty little nothings into your ear.

“Thought about you every night.”

Thrust.

“Seeing you play with yourself in that shitty hologram — Fuck — was ready to leave it all.”

Thrust.

“Your p-pretty pussy never looked more beautiful stuffed with my come.”

Thrust.

“Did you think of me? Think of being my little cum bucket?”

You loose yourself to him, eyes screwing shut, as desperate desire makes your pussy clench around him.  “Yes, Maker, yes. Every f—fucking time.”

He moves deeper and faster, pumping into you with surging desperation. “Who makes you feel this good?”

“You! Only you!”

“Fucking right it’s only me.”

You cry out, cunt clenching around him as you come. You are nothing but your body, sweet spasms rushing over you as you rise in the air on clouds of ecstasy. 

Boba admires you, watching your eyes roll back as your brows scrunch in pleasure. You’re beautiful, fucked out and consumed by pleasure only he can bring you. 

He doesn’t spare you a moment to recover, keeping his brutal pace steady as your ride out your orgasm. Once again, he brings you into the realm of overstimulation, demanding more. 

“Again.”

“N—no, oh! I can’t.”

“That wasn’t a fucking request,” He bites your shoulder, hard enough to break skin as he slides a hand between the two of you.

“Time to let everyone know you’re mine,” He rubs your clit without mercy. “Fuck a baby into you. Make everyone know who you belong to. “

You’re twisting from one side to the other, your hands crawling at his flight suit as your body burned from his thrusts. 

“One more. Right fucking now.”

“Maker, Boba!”

It’s too intense, too much, and there was no way to escape it. He spears into you until there is not an inch of empty space between you. You shudder, lava flowing through your veins, as you fall apart for the final time. 

Just when you think you’re going to burst into flames, Boba’s hips sputter and he moans your name. He fills you, twitching against your tight walls as he paints your insides white.

His hips are still rocking into you with tiny thrusts when he collapses on top of you. His weight makes it harder to catch your breath, but you could care less. You’re just happy he’s back. 

Shuffling around, you wrap your arms around his neck as you lay in silence, still connected as he softens inside of you. Bodies sweaty and hearts thumping, you let your feats bleed out, as if they were nothing. As if you both hadn’t craved each other for weeks. 

Boba is the first to move, much to your dismay. Kissing your temple, he reaches behind you to grab a pillow before pulling himself up. He rolls the pillow up before moving a hand under your lower back.

“Lift your hips.”

With his help, you lift your lower half just far enough in order for him to shove the rolled-up pillow under your backside. Your hips are now raised off the bed at an angle.

“Good girl,” He coos, unzipping a pocket on his utility belt. “Just stay there.”

“I need to clean up,” You protest watching as the corner of his mouth pulls up. That mischievous glint is back as he looks down at you. Kriff, what does he have planned now?

That’s when you see it — shiny metal morphed into a bulbous shape with a wide base. 

“No you don’t,” He pulls out from your gripping heat and lines the metal plug up to your abused hole. “You’re keeping my cum in you all night.”

You shiver as Boba pushes the plug inside until your opening is effectively blocked. None of his cum would be escaping; and with the rolled pillow under you, maybe his seed would take.

“Boba,” The cold metal soothes your hot walls. “What is this?”

He leans down to kiss you, “Pretty baby, I told I was gonna breed you.”

He pushes your tangled hair away from your sweaty forehead, admiring the way your eyes widen. 

“We’re not wasting a drop. And tomorrow I’ll fuck you again. And again. And again. Until you’re swollen with my child.”

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[vicar-dei]

The Great Ones of Bloodborne

Oh, it’s been 5 months already since my last long post? Yea, deciding to pick up Genshin Impact may not have been the best idea… BUT I HAVE RETURNED! I have an interesting concept that I’ve been mulling over, and I can’t wait to share it with all of you! Anyone who’s played Bloodborne knows about the Great Ones:

Big, slimy-looking creatures that reshape reality and make the player Hunter truly question their sanity. Well, here I wanted to look at the True Great Ones in Bloodborne and go over what they are, what could’ve inspired their creation, and of course any other crack-pot theories I could come up with. With all that being said, let’s get started, shall we?

MAJOR SPOILER WARNING: I will be looking into different aspects of Bloodborne, so the best bet for you if you haven’t played Bloodborne is to just…… play the damn game already! It’s a really good game!!

We will start with what the hell a Great One is, exactly. In simple terms, Great Ones are the closest thing that the Bloodborne universe has to gods. Beings of immense power, able to bend aspects of reality to their will. While humans worship them throughout history, the Great Ones seem to be equally as compassionate towards humanity, and frequently bless humans have proven their worth, turning them into the Kin. This is how the Celestial Emissary and Rom came into being.

On rare occasions, Great Ones will have children with humans, creating Celestial Children. The best example of a fully grown Celestial Child would be Ebrietas, Daughter of the Cosmos.

Please note that in my introduction, I said I would be going over TRUE Great Ones, not the Kin or the Celestial Children. This includes the Amygdala, the Moon Presence, Kos (sometimes Kosm), and Oedon. My choice of Great Ones came down to “True” Great Ones bleeding a very bright red, and “Kin” Great Ones or Celestial Children bleeding a milky white.

At the top of the list is the Amygdala. Despite being regarded as a “lesser” Great One, this will more than likely be the Great One that the player Hunter will see first, and see the most. These things are over Yharnam, large hairy creatures with seven arms and six-fingered hands. It’s alluded to that the denizens of Yharnam have seen the Amygdala at one point or another, as there is even a statue of the creature in Yahar’gul, the Unseen Village. I believe that the Amygdala would actually go on to set the standard for how the masses perceived the Great Ones, as the only humans who have seen other Great Ones are the player Hunter, Gehrman (who has witnessed the Moon Presence) and his original team of Hunters (who dissected Kos), and the villagers of the Fishing Hamlet.

Now the namesake for the Amygdala comes from the part of the brain with the same name:

While modern science has discovered the possibility of different functions of the Amygdala, all that we care about is that it is regarded as the “fear center” of the brain. Not only is does it actively determine how humans react to frightening situations, but it also organizes the memories of fear so that the body can respond to similar situations faster. That’s right, Miyazaki (the creator of Bloodborne) took our fear processors and turned them into something that would make said fear processors go haywire.

But all of this is fairly surface level stuff, the Amygdala isn’t nearly as hard to understand as some of the other great ones. So, let’s go another layer further. In the Old Hunters DLC, the player Hunter is introduced to Kos, a Great One that had only been mentioned up to that point in small lore bits, and by the boss Micolash. You might remember him, the “Kos, or some say Kosm” guy? Throws wimpy punches, then proceeds to whip out magic that can one-shot you?

Regardless, Kos was worshipped by the villagers of the Fishing Hamlet, and in return for this worship Kos gifted them with bountiful fishing seasons. However, her cosmic tempering with the squid and fish caused alterations in the villagers, causing them to mutate into the enemies we see now. For reasons still unknown, Kos washed ashore in the Fishing Hamlet, and it was here that Hunters would not only dissect Kos in their search for eyes, but only dissect the villagers to discover the details of their transformation. The villagers left would pray to Kos to do something about these acts, causing Kos to trap everyone in the area, including the Hunters, in the Hunters’ Nightmare. These Hunters include Lady Maria, Laurence, and Ludwig, several unnamed Hunters trained under Gehrman, as well as several unnamed Scholars of Byrgenwerth. There’s speculation that Gehrman or possibly even Willem of the Byrgenwerth Scholars participated in the experimentation, but seeing as how neither had been trapped in the Hunters’ Nightmare, I would like to rule this out.

By the time the player Hunter gets to Kos, she gives birth to a child. The fight with the Orphan of Kos then begins, and… yea, this fight is just insane. For such a simply designed enemy, the dev team really went all-out in the “ridiculous mechanics bound to induce salt in anyone” department.

Now, in order to find some real-world connections, we have to do some connections with the grandaddy of mind-fuck horror himself, H.P. Lovecraft. He was so famous for his branch of horror that it was named after him, Lovecraftian horror. The inspiration for Kos and the Orphan comes from the Lovecraft novel The Shadow over Innsmouth. This story talks about an unnamed narrator who investigates the ruined seaport of Innsmouth, Massachusetts. Before the events of the book, some of the residents had been detained in concentration camps by the U.S. Government, and one of their reefs had been torpedoed after being mistakenly labeled as Prohibition liquor raids in 1927. All the villagers that remain are part human, part fish abominations, after being forced into a contract with the Deep Ones, powerful fish-like humanoids with ties to Cthulhu.

Miyazaki may have taken some creative liberties when it came to some of the finer details about the Fishing Hamlet and Kos, but the framework is all there. Fishing port ravaged by outsiders who wanted to know more? Check. Part human, part fish creatures with a hatred for whoever doesn’t look like them? Check. Allusions to a being that's known for its large scale fuckery with the world? Big ass check.

Next up on our list, we have the Moon Presence, the secret final boss for Bloodborne. To reach this boss, you must gather 3 out of the potential 4 Umbilical Cords found throughout the game, and then choose to face off against Gehrman. The creator of the Hunter’s Dream, the Moon Presence was originally fulfilling the crazed wished of the First Hunter, who wanted life to be given to his Lady Maria lookalike, the Doll. In exchange for this gift, Gehrman was cursed with the fate of training new Hunters and tasking them with “ending the Dream”, the reality of the mission being to hunt down the infant Great One Mergo.

Now, I had to do some deep diving into the Lovecraftian Mythos to get the Moon Presence pinned down. I eventually settled on comparing him to Nyarlathotep, an Outer God and the blood-related son of Azathoth. I did this for a few reasons. The first being that Nyarlathoteps’ descriptions in novels have made artists give him physical traits that all, in one way or another, mirror those of the Moon Presence.

The second, and biggest reason, how Nyarlathotep goes about his affairs. In the Mythos, he is known to be the only Outer God to directly interact with and manipulate humans, as he wasn’t banished to the cosmos like the other Outer Gods (not to be confused with the Great Old Ones, beings such as Cthulhu). In addition, Nyarlethotep was a shapeshifter, known to frequently disguise himself as a human-like being dressed in dark clothing. Now, let’s compare that to the Moon Presence. It granted the wishes of a crazy old man in exchange for its mysterious agenda to be carried out, and while it doesn’t shapeshift, having several men in dark clothing acting as your “hands” in the mortal realm, doing your bidding, is a pretty nice replacement.

Last, and by no means least, we have the Great One known as Oedon. We actually never directly interact or even see Oedon, we can just see his presence throughout Bloodborne. It is said that he could be the creator of the Old Blood, or at least had some hand in its creation, as a gift to the people of Pthumeru. He is also said to have ascended to the highest plane of existence, hence why he was never given a physical form.

In order to find out the what could’ve been the inspiration for Oedon, I actually looked at his half-human, half-Great One child, Mergo. This is the child that you hear crying in the background while fighting Mergo’s Wet Nurse. The child’s cradle appears empty, however, suggesting that Mergo has the capability to turn invisible. This small detail actually makes Mergo share a common trait to the half-human, half-Outer God abomination found in Lovecraft’s’ novel The Dunwich Horror. 

In this novel, the creature, literally named the Dunwich Horror, was the child of the human Lavinia Whateley, and the Outer God Yog-Sothoth. After all of its mortal family either die or are murdered, the Dunwich Horror goes on a rampage, murdering farmer families and police officers until it is eventually killed by the “main” characters Armitage, Rice, and Morgan. Now, Yog-Sothoth is an omniscient being with no real physical form, only ever appearing to humans in the form of several glowing orbs or eyes. This Outer God is also frequently called by humans for rituals and forms of witchcraft. 

Oedon assisting in the creation of the Old Blood and having no physical form is already a direct comparison to Yog-Sothoth. However, there is a little theory that I have about Oedon. If Oedon appeared to the ancient Pthumerians in the same way as Yog-Sothoth, he would’ve done so in the form of floating eye-like orbs. This not only would help to explain humanity’s perception of the attainment of eyes as the path to enlightenment (the original perception at least, this perception would then be strengthened by the sight of the Amygdala), but this would also explain the origin of the design of the Caryll Rune Formless Oedon, several large circles atop several thick lines. This is all completely speculation of course, I could be completely wrong about it. Still, something to consider. 

Welp, that’s the list! People who are well-read on the Bloodborne universe may notice a lack of the Brain of Mensis on this list, a Great One found by Scholars in the Nightmare of Mensis, and was used as a guard dog of sorts for any intruders. Leaving the Brain out wasn’t an accident, I actually have an entirely different post in the workings explaining why I think that there’s more to the Brain of Mensis than meets the eye, and that it is not, in fact, a true Great One! Until then, I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, and that you have a wonderful day!

(Update: Hella late, but my Brain of Mensis analysis is available now! You can find it here.)

[nuatthebeach]

Why Ginny fell in love with Harry? His personality and morality he's funny, humble, determined, selfless, powerful, generous, brave, strong, fearless, independent, smart, passionate and dedicated to his friends and love ones and extraordinary amazing person.

She had an crush on the boy who lived but fell in love with Harry Potter himself.

Many say she's perfect for Harry ( which is true) but people forget how perfect Harry is for Ginny. What's yours thoughts about this?

First off, I really feel honored to have such a lovely question for my very first ask! Thank you!

And you’re right, not a lot of people in this fandom tend to ask about how Harry is perfect for Ginny (and a lot of that is because they don’t even agree Ginny is right for Harry in the first place lmao. Can’t relate, imho.)

I think that line in Cursed Child, as much as I don’t particularly enjoy their relationship portrayed in that book/think it’s not one hundred percent accurate as to how it was canon in the series, pretty much sums it up.

“People think there is all there is to know about you, but the best bits of you are and always have been heroic in really quiet ways.”

I can just imagine that more Ginny haters would misinterpret that line too, fueling more to their claim that she only ever “loved” him because of his heroism.

If that’s really what you took from that…I’ve got things to say to you.

I do think Ginny appreciates his selflessness and his genuine care for other people though. And, no, that is not the same thing as her hero-worshipping the dude. Anyone with a functioning brain knows that these are accurate descriptions of Harry’s characterization.

But those characteristics are not the only thing she loves about him, of course.

I think Ginny loves Harry for the same reasons he loves her back.

Like her, Harry is passion-driven, hardworking, has strong familial values, the same sense of humor, and understands her so so so so well.

But for now, let me focus on that last point because I think that’s the one that needs to be highlighted the most to the Harry bashers (do those exist? At least pertaining to Hinny? Hmm.)

I don’t know if anyone’s noticed, but as soon as the infamous “Lucky you” scene in which Ginny tells his ignorant and arrogant ass off, he’s been so attentive to the way she perceives things.

He never once forgot that traumatic experiences happened to her again. He simply wouldn’t let himself.

When they saw Lockhart at St Mungo’s, he turned to Ginny to crack the joke about his exuberant personality, even though Ron and Hermione both had been with him that year. It goes beyond simply just acknowledging Ginny’s presence that year, and about time too.

When Ginny became alarmed about the Half Blood Prince potions book in HBP, Harry immediately knew she was thinking of the diary and even changed his angry tone that he was using with Hermione because he knew Ginny rightfully needed to be reassured.

In DH, he wanted to hug and comfort her when she saw she was crying (& this is why I hate when people say he only likes Ginny because “she’s not weepy” - which I find funny bc Ginny actually cries a lot, yes, in COS but she also “angry cries” too, as we see in HBP when she tells Ron off in the corridor with Dean. But also, like, do you even see the way he interacts with her? He appreciates her strength, but he would never push Ginny away for having a basic human response. And he never did, which is literally canon.)

He’s never once done that/even felt like doing that to any other girl, not even Hermione. If he did feel it, he would always express how uncomfortable it made him too.

Even in COS, he was super attentive to Ginny’s emotional state after the chamber events, even halting Ron from asking more questions because Harry didn’t want to scare her more.

In DH, he proves he has confidence in her abilities by automatically assuming (literally. Like, no questions asked or any hesitance) she was leading the DA along with Neville and Luna.

(This is also why I wonder why the eff everyone assumes Neville was the leader in the rebellion, not Ginny, because I don’t think there’s literally ANY canon evidence that suggests that. If there is, my mistake, but like. Why Neville and not Ginny, when the proof given is Harry’s assumption that Ginny is leading it? I digress.)

And not to give more evidence from the controversial CC, but Harry also asked Ginny for her opinion near the end of the book, his exact words (roughly) being, “Hang, on, Hermione. I’m not doing anything until I ask Ginny.” (I apologize if that’s not the exact quote, I don’t have the book on me right now.)

That line must’ve been a fat bitch slap to the face of the Harmony shippers who think that even though Harry married Ginny in canon, he still values the opinions of the Golden Trio, and particularly Hermione, way more. An excuse to commit emotional infidelity, if you will.

But…he fucking doesn’t. I’m sorry.

Honestly, I know this ask wanted me to talk about why Harry is perfect for Ginny, but Harry would do anything for Ginny, he loves her so much and respects her wishes and understands what she needs, and Ginny deserves nothing less, so that’s why he’s perfect for her.

This is not to say their relationship is perfect either and they understand each other at ALL times (e.g. Harry wanting to protect her during the Final Battle but not bothering to understand Ginny wanting to fight to protect her family too, which I alluded to in the fic I wrote welcome and goodbye on AO3 and ffn, #shamelessselfpromo), but that’s the beauty of how realistic they are, that they have things they need to work on too, which is in complete contrast to what people usually say about them actually. (Perfect couple, my ass. Do you just hate people who equally make each other happy?)

But it’s true.

Anyways, this response got really long, but thanks again for the ask! This was really fun!

[kaypeace21]

El and “post institutional syndrome” (psych analysis)

Before I go in depth with this condition. I wanted to discuss the unique real life case of Genie (whose experiences most closely resemble El ‘s) . And , because of this , could possibly give us insight on how El’s past may affect her psychosocial development .

“Genie had spent almost her entire childhood locked in a bedroom, isolated and ab*sed by her father for the first 13 years of her life. The social worker soon discovered that the girl had been confined to a small room, and an investigation by authorities quickly revealed that the child had spent most of her life in this room. The windows were curtained and the door was kept closed.” 

“At this time, she could only speak a few words -- including "stopit" and "nomore." 

“While her circumstances until that point were undeniably tragic, they also presented an opportunity for psychologists, linguists, and other researchers to study psychosocial, emotional, and cognitive development in an individual who had suffered from severe social isolation and deprivation. In particular, the discovery of Genie presented an opportunity to study whether a child who was past the so-called "critical period" for language acquisition could learn to speak a first language.”

“The case was important, said psycholinguist and author Harlan Lee, because ‘our morality doesn’t allow us to conduct deprivation experiments with human beings; these unfortunate people are all we have to go on.’

* Brenner not only kept her in isolation via her room but even put her through severe deprivation via solitary confinement as punishment. Putting her in a completely barren dark room for hours.UN Special Rapporteur Juan E. Méndez warned ,”Considering the severe mental pain or suffering solitary confinement may cause, it can amount to t*rture or cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment when used as a punishment,  indefinitely, or for a prolonged period, for persons with mental disabilities or juveniles.”

“After assessing Genie's emotional and cognitive abilities, Kent described her as ‘the most profoundly damaged child I've ever seen … Genie's life is a wasteland.’ She began to experience more developmental progress,  but remained poor in areas such as language.Susan Curtiss worked with Genie to teach her English. Genie soon developed a rather large lexicon and was able to express herself. But despite extensive training, she remained unable to produce grammatical sentences. Here is a transcript of one of her reports of her time in the hands of her father:

Father hit arm. Big wood. Genie cry ... Not spit. Father. Hit face—spit ... Father hit big stick. Father angry. Father hit Genie big stick. Father take piece wood hit. Cry. Me cry.”

“According to Lenneberg, the critical period for language acquisition lasts until around age 12. After the onset of puberty (at 13), he argued, the organization of the brain becomes set and no longer able to learn and utilize language in a fully functional manner.The case of Genie confirms that there is a certain window of opportunity that sets the limit for when you can become relatively fluent in a language. Of course, if you already are fluent in another language, the brain is already primed for language acquisition . If you have no experience with grammar, however, Broca's (an area of the brain) remains relatively hard to change: you cannot learn grammatical language production later on in life. But the abilities to understand language and produce language in ways that do not rely on grammar largely make use of Wernicke's area in the temporal lope. This area is capable of expanding and rewiring throughout life—even after the teen years. The case of Genie confirms this. Grammar was beyond reach for her. But language comprehension and storytelling were not.”

So El struggling with grammar in some sentences but not in others and  improving in grammar unlike Jennie- could possibly be because unlike Jeanie, El was 12 when rescued  vs Jeanie who was 13?

“Researchers were also  left to wonder whether Genie had suffered from cognitive deficits caused by her years of severe neglect or if she had been born with an ‘intellectual disability’.  Most believed,  the permanent mental impairments and ‘developmental delays’ Genie exhibited (upon being assessed ) were the result of the isolation and deprivation she was subjected to.”

For those confused about certain terms just used. “Developmental delays appear before 22 years of age. They are life-long disabilities that affect one or both physical and cognitive functioning. ‘Intellectual disability’ encompasses the “cognitive” part of this definition, that is, a disability that is broadly related to thought processes. People with intellectual disabilities are known for having below-average IQ/cognitive abilities . ID can be caused by a myriad of things- including physical and genetic factors, problems during pregnancy or at birth, health issues at an early age, exposure to environmental toxins, or non-physical causes such as lack of stimulation.”

*DISCLAIMER before we begin: I’m saying this now, cause I expect bad actors to try and cancel me. El , even if she has an intellectual disability- is still a human being with many aspirational character traits- that people can admire or aspire to have . She’s kind, selfless, brave, and resilient.  People with ID can still function and have jobs, make decisions, and learn new skills too. And they have human emotions like everyone else. if you are “offended” that I say a character you like  may have ID - and are pissy you related and empathized to a character that you would otherwise have  ‘othered’ cause they have an intellectual disability. Me, an autistic person, (who the fandom has bullied for being autistic) is not the ableist one for simply saying she may have an Intellectual disability .Being angry by the very idea a character you like has a condition  , and saying it’s “offensive”/”insulting to them” (is ableist). And  in a sense dehumanizes these people who are greatly underestimated and mistreated by society already. you don’t have to agree of course- but don’t try to smear me for stating my opinion based on the psych papers I’ll be discussing. I love El, and have a cousin with ID, so no this isn’t me insulting El. The Duffers said they wanted to give a voice to those “othered” by society- and people who aren’t neurotypical could easily be on the list. The Duffers having us love, relate, and  empathize with a character such as this wouldn’t be a bad thing- but good rep .So now I’ll continue with the evidence that alludes to El possibly having ID.

Post institutional syndrome

“In clinical and abnormal psychology, POST INSTITUTIONAL SYNDROME- refers to deficits or disabilities in social and life skills, which develop after a person has spent a long period living in remote institutions (such as orphanages). “

“Growing up in such an environment can change the brain for good.Institutionalization in early childhood can alter a child's brain and behavior in the long run.The ongoing nature of chronic neglect significantly impacts the brain in infancy and early childhood. It suggests that the specific ages of approximately 6−18 months old , may be especially sensitive to developing deficiencies in orphanage environments. “ (*Making El who was raised in such an environment since birth quite susceptible ).

“According to Perry (2002), neglect at this phase impedes formation of neurological pathways essential to communication in the brain. They found that early institutionalization changed both the structure and the function of the brain. Any time spent in an institution shrunk the volume of gray matter, or brain cell bodies, in the brain. Kids who stayed in the orphanages instead of going to foster care also had less white matter, or the fat-covered tracts between brain cell bodies, than kids who, at a young age, moved in with families.Staying in an orphanage instead of foster care also resulted in lower-quality brain activity as measured by EEG.”

“Neglect may be the most detrimental maltreatment type on brain development.A child’s neurocognitive and emotional development rapidly moves towards a downward spiral following extended time in an institution.Normal development may be disrupted by deprivation associated with neglect and can result in dysregulation of neural systems during vulnerable periods of brain development, leading to pronounced neurocognitive deficits due to maltreatment.There are many outcomes related to this disruption in brain development: delays in development of IQ , delays in language, cognitive delays that impact learning, and difficulty with behavioral inhibitions,  social emotional functioning and well as impaired attachment (Wilkerson, 2009; Barkley, 1997).”

 “Low-stimulation environments can lead to lower scores on intelligence and language tests. Neglect is the type of maltreatment most strongly associated with delays in expressive, receptive, and overall language development.interpersonal interaction is necessary for the acquisition of early language, and these interactions may be limited for children that have been in institutional settings or have experienced physical or emotional neglect.Speech and language delays along with social-emotional delays are very common as the child continues in the institutional environment.”

“Compared with youth that were not neglected, children demonstrated lower cognitive and language scores and more behavioral problems.Higher IQ could be predicted by language scores and an absence of externalizing behavior problems. When comparing the neglected children: shorter time spent in a stable environment, lower scores on language skills, and the presence of externalizing behavior problems predicted lower IQ.”

“The cognitive development of institutionalized children has been studied for more than 60 years. Between 1930 and 1950 a first wave of studies documented that children in institutions often showed a low IQ and severe language delays (Crissey, 1937; Durfee & Wolf, 1933), and children’s orphanages have been considered “natural experiments” on the necessary conditions for intellectual growth (MacLean, 2003).For example, Rutter (1998) found that the mean IQ of children leaving institutional care in Romania shortly after the fall of Ceausescu was about 50 (population mean = 100). Similar results were shown with Dennis in (1973) who addressed the question of how large the cognitive delay of children in orphanages was compared to children adopted into families. He studied children who were abandoned immediately after birth and were reared in children’s homes in Lebanon.Dennis found that at age 11, the average IQ of the adopted children was within the range of normally developing children, whereas the non-adopted 11 y old orphans still living in these institutions were diagnosed as Intellectually disabled.At his followup, when they were 16, these same girls at the Zouk institution had an average IQ going just above 50. While, In a meta-analysis of 75 studies, van IJzendoorn et al. (2008) found that children living in institutional care scored on average 20 points lower on intelligence tests than children who were raised in families.”

“These later studies also revealed that the percentage of time spent in institutional care was significantly and negatively correlated with full scale IQ, verbal, and memory scores. And that 12 years of institutional care, from birth to 12 years of age, showed placement into foster care did not increase iq points .The only cognitive improvement of placing these children in foster care at age 12 -was on working memory. While the only cognitive improvements of taking the children out of the institution by 8 years old was on processing speed. “

pics for proof if you don’t believe me-

* Meaning realistically El who was in such an environment (from birth to 12 years old)  may learn new things after being placed in foster care (like with Hopper or the Byers)-but her Iq would never improve to the point of being neurotypical-  she’d always have an intellectual disability.

Intellectual disability

“People with intellectual and learning Disabilities may have deficits in speech production . Impairment of speech production is among the most commonly reported difficulties in children, adolescents and adults with ID . The children,  including some with mild and moderate intellectual disabilities may lack in phonological development in their speech. These children also exhibit many articulatory deficits, delays in expressive language and show significant limitations in grammar and syntax development  compared to  those their age (without an iD). They often speak in subdued tones or use explosive voice modulations .Some speak quietly, while in others vocal intensity varied from utterance to utterance. “

“Intellectual disability is identified as mild , moderate, severe or profound.”

So, if based on average of Iq of children raised in orphanages (from birth to 11,12, or 16 years old). El would have a mild intellectual disability (and an Iq possibly around 50).Of those affected with ID, about 85% fall into the "mild" category.

Mild intellectuality disability disorder symptoms:

-”being fully independent in self-care when they get older (brushing teeth, dressing themselves, cooking, taking public transport, etc)”

-having problems with reading and writing (having math/reading skills between a 3rd- 6th grade level).

-having an IQ range of 50 to 69

-social immaturity

“Iq below 70 isn’t the only marker for diagnosis. But, also issues in adaptive functioning are usually used for diagnosis. Three areas of adaptive functioning are considered:According to the DSM-5 (APA, 2013), the signs and symptoms of adaptive functioning deficits across 3 domains (conceptual ,social and practical) for a mild intellectual disability are:

Conceptual Domain

”Slow language development (children learn to talk later, if at all). Or problems learning to talk or trouble speaking clearly.”

”Difficulties in academic learning ( such as having math/reading skills between a 3rd- 6th grade level).”

* El can read but still struggles with proper grammar ( verbally and through her writing) .She’s even reading an english-learning book.  Her unsteady handwriting/ lack of apostrophes hint she’s still learning to write (despite her reading abilities) .  And at 14 she doesn’t know what a state is-specifically  Illinois which she visited 6 months prior.

”Difficulty understanding  academic and abstract concepts of time “

*She didn’t start learning how to tell time until 12, and only seemed to master it at 14.

 “childish behavior inconsistent with the child’s age.”

*14 y old El and 5 y old Holly both having a thing for teddy bears, in s3/2.

”Problems with abstract thinking,  short term memory, and cognitive flexibility”. (”Abstract reasoning tasks include the ability to understand subjects on a complex level through analysis and evaluation and the ability to apply knowledge in problem-solving.”)

(”Cognitive flexibility has been described as the mental ability to switch between thinking about two different concepts, and to think about multiple concepts simultaneously.”)

*This one is a bit iffy, cause there’s a few explanations to the s3 example. El and Mike lie to their friends about her curfew.Yet the next day she is confused and says Mike wouldn’t lie to her - cause “friends don’t lie” All despite the fact she and Mike lied to Dustin, Max, Will, and Lucas the day before. So either she doesn’t understand the concept of hypocrisy because she lacks cognitive flexibility (or just doesn’t care about the hypocrisy)- aka her and Mike can lie to their friends, but she’s upset when they lie to her,  (and she’s fine if Mike lies to everyone but her) ?  Personally,I think she doesn’t grasp the concept of hypocrisy yet. Or she didn’t even realize she was lying and believed Mike was right about her curfew. Or bad writing. But given the concept of lying being prevalent to the season- I lean to Mike accidentally lying to her about her curfew (and El thinking her curfew was 4:00) . Or (more likely) El lies and doesn’t have the cognitive flexibility/abstract reasoning to understand that being upset Mike lied to her but not upset Mike (and her) lied to their friends is hypocritical.  She also lied to Mike and pretended she didn’t hear the confession at the cabin for 3 months. She ‘forgave’ Mike but she never noticed Mike didn’t even apologize for lying just being ‘jealous of Max’ (despite lying being the thing she was upset and dumped him over in the first place).  Anyways back on topic-

Social Domain

“Receptive language that may be limited to comprehension of simple speech and gestures.These students struggle to differentiate concrete and abstract concepts. Figurative language (metaphors, similes, idiomatic expressions, etc.) is typically quite confusing to them.”

“trouble understanding social cues”

“Limitations in language and communication skills.More concrete and less complex spoken language (if used), compared with peers. Limited vocabulary and grammatical skills.”

Practical Domain:

“May function age-appropriately in personal care (brushing teeth, dressing, going to the restroom etc).”

Early signs and symptoms of intellectual disability:

El has most of the signs...

-”Have trouble speaking or experiencing delays in speech, trouble understanding social norms,Challenges with problem-solving and logical thinking, Behavioral problems like extreme temper tantrums (breaking windows, pushing max, throwing food on Hopper and the girls in the mall), Having difficulty understanding the results of his or her actions (for instance like not understanding why spying on an ex is wrong).”

“If your child has ID, they may experience some of the following behavioral issues:aggression, Dependency, lack of impulse control passivity, stubbornness,low tolerance for frustration ,difficulty paying attention (She’s exhibited all of these).”

Other traits of Post institutional children

 “poor self concept” (One's self-concept is a collection of beliefs about oneself. Generally, self-concept embodies the answer to "Who am I?".)

“problems with coping and regulating emotions ,poor impulse control, and aggressiveness.”

“Studies have repeatedly shown that children with disrupted attachment who have experienced neglect have problems coping and managing emotions, “

“inappropriately demanding and clinging”                          

“indiscriminate friendliness”

“44% of institutionalized children showed high levels of indiscriminately sociable behavior as contrasted with 18% of children who had never been institutionalized.children who were indiscriminately sociable as 8-year olds were not indiscriminately sociable toward adults as 16-year olds; however, these children were indiscriminately sociable in their relationships with peers (those their own age). Thus, it is possible that indiscriminate sociability serves as a marker of later problems in social relationships, even though manifesting differently by the teen years.That friendliness was probably an important coping technique in their socially starved early lives. What's interesting is it just doesn't go away.Indiscriminate friendliness may also be tied to the amygdala. In a study using fMRI, Aviva Olsavsky, MD, at the University of California, Los Angeles, and colleagues found that when typical children (4-14 years old) viewed photos of their mothers versus photos of strangers, the amygdala showed distinctly different responses. In children who had been institutionalized, however, the amygdala responded similarly whether the children viewed mothers or strangers. That response was particularly notable among kids who exhibited more friendliness toward strangers. Attachment and behavior problems, indiscriminate friendliness, and lower IQ seem to go together in the same children.”

(We have to admit she attached herself rather quickly to Max, and Kali after only a few days, same goes for Mike and the boys she knew for only a week).

“cognitive delays, particularly speech and language deficits.” (we’ve covered that)

“quasi autism (is a term used to describe autistic-like difficulties and traits following very severe social deprivation in the first year of life.) About 10 % percent of the children adopted from Romanian orphanages after 6 months of age were diagnosed with autism sometime in childhood. And of those who stayed in the institution to age 11, 8.5% with an IQ >50 , fit the “quasi-autism” profile (meaning they fit some but not all autistic traits). The results showed  children with ‘autistic features’ usually experienced longer durations of severe psychological privation, than other orphans.”

El does have a few traits that some people on the spectrum have.

-” Many children with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) use echolalia, which means they repeat others' words or sentences. They might repeat the words of familiar people (parents, teachers, friends), or they might repeat sentences from their favorite video.”

(X)

-”Some children with ASD also have delayed speech and language skills.some children are even selectively mute. “

- ”Talk in a flat, robot-like tone” (obviously not all asd people. But I do think El’s voice in conversation can often be quite monotone).

 - Many autistic girls on the spectrum also have disordered eating patterns . This can include simply eating the same foods over and over again (cough her eggo obsession). And although “disorder eating” and “eating dis*rders” are different.”Previous research has found that autism and eating disorders can occur together, as 20-30% of adults with eating dis*rders have autism (despite being only 2.2% of the US population).”

-“Has obsessive interests” (her whole room is covered in Mike related stuff like he’s her special interest- my gay ass has no idea if a whole room covered in bf related stuff is ‘straight little girl normal’ or a bit obsessive- but I lean to the latter, especially when compared to Max’s room XD)

-” difficulty understanding social cues .” (covered that)

- “And she is sensitive to certain noises (thunder etc)”

 Alright, thanks for listening. Of course, this analysis is if the Duffers went the realistic route-which I do lean to them doing.  One of the stephen King movies “dream catcher” was cited as inspiration for Stranger things . It  even had a boy with ID who spoke in broken english, carried around stuffed animals, and had the superpower of being able to track people (just like El)  . And he retained broken english/his interest in stuffed animals in adulthood.Of course her fitting the psych criteria I listed could have other explanations.El can most certainly learn and improve in academic skills, language, and social skills even with an Intellectual disability. But honestly, even if El had an Iq of 160 she would (at least initially) struggle tremendously given the lack of education and neglect/ab*se she’s dealt with.But, I’m excited to see El gain independence as she learns more about herself and  the real world (and maybe heal from some of her tr*uma).

But if we’re talking academically-she doesn’t know basic geography or what a state is at 14.She’s still learning how to speak and write with correct grammar at 14.She only just mastered how to tell time at 14 . Does she even know how to add, subtract, multiple, and divide, let alone algebra (knowledge needed for highschool) ? Or basic science knowledge also needed ? No way would she’d be ready to go to highschool in s3 (like the others already attending, during the ending-time skip). If we were being realistic- she’d be held back a few years and or in remedial classes, or special school, etc. The kids in middle or highschool who don’t know her circumstances wouldn’t be understanding of why she has little knowledge of social norms, expressions, language issues,etc. El  has only interacted with 4 kids her own age for 3 months (9 months with Mike) and was in a year of isolation with Hopper (being taught social norms via tv- which is not the best teacher) .This was hardly ‘typical socialization for a kid her age’. Unlike, the rest of the gang who interacts with many kids on a daily basis.How will she be in an environment with this many kids? I wouldn’t be surprised if she was sadly bullied.Regardless, I’m looking forward to El’s character arc of trying to assimilate to the ‘real world’ as she grows into her own person-most likely  there’s some good in her journey and not just bullies along the way. :)

[elorastory]

Trollhunters: Rise of the Titans--A Conspiracy

Tales of Arcadia/Trollhunters: Rise of the Titans—A Conspiracy

I’m expecting some pushback from this. Yes, it’s my opinion based on my personal understanding of the current state of society and the world. No, it is not intended to be offensive; merely thought-provoking and releasing for me personally.

Preface: Tales of Arcadia is still one of my very favorite shows ever. SO much good came from its existence. Nothing, not even a less-than-satisfactory ending, can take away what this series contributed to my journey.

Trigger warnings (yes, my rant has trigger-warnings): this post confronts the possibility of malevolent agendas and secret societies for which Netflix and Hollywood and Disney could be mouthpieces/mediums for mass brain-washing. This post also mentions transgender/gender-queer/gender-dysphoria in a neutral way (does not diss, but mentions possibility of using its acceptance for sterilization purposes), so lovely sensitive beautiful souls, please be prepared. Alludes to but does not outright mention Netflix’s “Cuties” documentary. Harsh and vulgar language ahead. Scattered and incomplete thoughts galore. Read between the lines and do your own research (if you still can in today’s cancel-culture).

The creators of Tales of Arcadia set out to revolutionize animation and push graphics to their limit. Congratulations to them. They absolutely, indisputably achieved their goal (seriously, guys—GORGEOUS visuals).

Unfortunately, instead of applying their passion and talent toward telling beautiful stories with empowering morals to children (the show’s target audience), the creators chose to “step back” and permit the existence of Rise of the Titans (from which the original writers are a little too quick to distance themselves, in my opinion).

It began with Jim’s INCREDIBLY disappointing transformation at the end of Trollhunters, season three. His metamorphosis recanted the show’s original moral of “you, a human, have everything you need inside of you to conquer your greatest fears and darkest demons BECAUSE you are human,” and instead, taught us we do not; we require intervention and enhancement to be worthy.

At first, I didn’t pay too much credence to the idea that this creative choice could have been tied to a trans-humanist agenda (or even a push for mass-acceptance of surgical/hormonal alterations for transgender/gender-dysphoria); however, after watching RotT, I’m drowning in paranoia.

Steve getting pregnant and giving birth on screen was positively treacherous. I am DAMN PROUD of our fandom’s overwhelming pushback against this particular aspect of RotT and I want all of you speaking out to know that you are the REAL Trollhunters here.

Not only is he HOW old (Aaron had enough foresight to make a comment on Twitter a few weeks ago that magically absolved the characters underage status and the writers of their responsibility—how convenient for them), but it’s not like the adults DON’T know (or, at least, suspect) what this concept (probably) parallels in reality.

It’s important to note, ToA as a fandom has expressed a high need for LGBTQ+ space and acceptance (and I am among the individuals requesting this need be met). I believe the creators included enough subtext for the audience to reasonably conclude that Steve is, more than likely, a bisexual himbo, especially for Eli (whom I hoped would come back from A5 a total babe and make Steve question everything he ever thought he knew about himself—especially when Aja (in my opinion) should have realized she had too much responsibility as Queen of a PLANET to maintain a healthy long-long-distance relationship with a boyfriend like STEVE). But the writers just jumped from the lesbian-end-of-the-world-last-chance-first-kiss in 3Below to “boys can have babies, too.”

MAYBE, in today’s political climate, it would have been prudent to save the mPreg for fanfiction (a safe space to process fantasies and triggers alike)—unless, of course, the writers WANTED to plant those seeds in the minds of their intended audience? (I know, rich coming from the chick who writes the Jamie/Blinky fanfic—I promise, it has meaning beyond the nasty.)

As a mother, this was my very biggest complaint about the finale. My children watch this show with me. Of course, after seeing Steve squirt blue all over Eli, my autistic daughter asks, “Can boys have babies, Mommy?”

Warning: Vicious, Accusatory, Conspiracy-Theory-Laden Rant Ahead

*middle fingers galore* Fuck you and your child-sexualizing/human-sterilization agenda, Netflix. Do I want to have to have the transgender talk with my malleable kids right now? Fuck no, I don’t. I do not think it’s bad to be transgender or queer. Y’all will always get love from me and will always be treated the way YOU want to be treated. I do think there’s a rise in rates of transgender/queer individuals because it’s getting a lot of attention and it makes doctors a lot of money, so there are a lot of vulnerable people being taken advantage of right now (especially kids--imagine how the spectrum ones are gonna sponge this shit). I do not want that for my children. I want them to have a comprehensive and complete understanding of all the forces affecting their relationship with their bodies and minds before they decide during puberty (a notoriously uncomfortable and confusing time of life) to chop off body parts and mess with hormones (and, by proxy, mental functioning). My children are not old enough to fully comprehend the shift occurring in our society right now, let alone WHY it’s even happening or what it means for them (how convenient for the proponents of depopulation by self-sterilization).

And on the subject of such agendas… Blinky. What were they thinking using him as a mouthpiece for ANY human-hating philosophy? When he stated outright that wiping the planet of humanity was SAVING the earth, I about shit a brick. HE LOVES ALL THINGS HUMAN! He’s supposed to be FASCINATED by them! He LIVED as one! He considers Jim his son! Not only was this the WORST example of the movie’s complete inability to maintain his character (besides MISSING A PAGE IN THE BOOK, being SCARED of FLYING (yeahfuckingright), and NOT reading horoscopes (bitch, please, of course Trolls read horoscopes—it’s cosmic feng-shui with giant space-rocks)), but he’s a CONSPIRACY THEORIST! He’d be SO onto this bullshit.

Wrapping up the agenda-pushing shenanigans: “For the good of all???”Are you KIDDING ME?! The four most dangerous words in history are, “For the greater good” (followed closely by “this time it’s different”), and y’all are just gonna rephrase it and use it to convince us that anyone fighting for the “greater good” is obviously the GOOD GUY? Of course, Jim IS the good guy and has the benefit of our loyal viewership and support, but acclimating the younger audience to this phrase, to the very concept that there is a “one size fits all” sort of “good” is dangerous and manipulative. What happens when “the greater good” isn’t good for you? Are you gonna be able to fight back and be heard?

Am I reading too much into this? Maybe. Is this my way of processing the steaming pile of propaganda my favorite show became without needed to re-watch RotT to leave a more comprehensive review? Probably. If I get cancelled for this post, am I gonna know I’m right? Absolutely.

If you made it this far, thanks for indulging me in my spazzy rant. As always, I am curious to hear your thoughts.

 Yours,

Elora Story

[black-streak]

Waiting for the Worms - Comfortably Numb

Part 5

Warnings as always. This isn't terribly dark. Again, more informative, but a fun little lead up towards the future, so there's that. (Take note of the way Marinette describes her movements, it's not extremely important, but gives a little insight to her mind.)

(Closed list) People I've had on hold for a week: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

Sitting in a coma for a year was only mildly less terrible than sitting in a grave for however long. 

On the one hand, Marinette was in a coma for a much longer period of time as far as she could tell. On the other, she was alive and could feel this body. Could hear the nurse read the newspaper to her, always announcing the date at the beginning of the visit. Sure, most of the news of this local area meant very little to her, but beggars can't be picky or whatever the saying was. 

Still, nothing could possibly beat the feeling of waking up fully. As these eyes (Both! They both opened now!) took in the room, she decided to focus in on her nurse. Watching the little delicate movements and shifts and attempting to replicate them to ensure all her nerve endings still worked. That muscles, large and small, still responded to commands, nothing paralyzed or unresponsive. While every movement strained against itself, everything still worked to some extent. Weak, but there. It seemed laying mostly still for over a year and a however much longer had deteriorated the muscle mass. Not surprising, but annoying when she desperately wanted to work her body into a frenzy just to prove she could. 

Laying there a little longer to take stock of healed over injuries, she came to the realization that this throat felt weird. She opened the mouth and attempted to ask the nurse, only for nothing to come out. Narrowing eyes, she reached out and gently tapped thin fingers on the nightstand next to the still reading nurse, drawing his attention to her.

Startled molten gold met her and suddenly he was up and taking the vitals, checking everything to be sure Marinette was truly awake and okay. He started speaking in a soothing, soft voice, though she could barely focus on the words enough to process them. Reaching out again, she stopped him midstep and then brought that same hand up to the throat to indicate the problem. She couldn't speak.

The man seemed to understand and nodded along, quickly paging a doctor and coming back to her, pressing a button to gently prop her up and slowly adjust a few machines before turning back and slowly asking a few basic yes or no questions. 

Did she know who she was? Yes, she was Marinette, stuck in the once dead body of her soulmate. She shook to indicate she didn't. With the state of the grave, she doubted she would be welcomed back to the manor. Best not to let them know who Jason was and have them contacting Bruce.

Did she know where she was? A hospital. She gave a nod for that.

Did she know the date? Yes, the nurse had read the date every day for a little over a year now. That much was easy to agree to, despite the timeline confusing her.

Does she know what happened to her? Well yes, but she shook her head no. She couldn't very well explain dying by Joker's cruelty while in the wrong body as Robin and climbing out of a grave. That was like, three separate identity reveals to one stranger. It also made zero sense and she'd probably end up institutionalized.

With the knowledge that she understood him and wasn't brain dead, the man informed her of the various injuries she knew of, plus a few bonus ones that alluded her. Then, he mentioned her inability to speak.

While all of the breaks and bruising had healed up well, the damage to the vocal chords had been horrific and while they did their best, the damage was done. They couldn't even remove them without it potentially cutting off her airway or esophagus.

She was effectively mute.

Marinette finally woke up after a year in a coma and however long in that grave and she still couldn't scream to her heart's content. This was stupid.

All she could do was glare off into space, ignoring the doctor that came in to do a checkup. 

…

After a week they took her off feeding tubes and IV only hydration and started reintroducing a liquid diet. Progress was slow and painful, but necessary.

After another two weeks they brought in soft solids like pudding and oatmeal. This is also when they first tried to help her stand up a little on her own and fine motor control was finally stable enough to write short phrases on a white bored. Rehabilitation was turning out to be an annoyingly long process.

After a month in this place, she finally left her room for the first time and abruptly realized they transferred her to a children's hospital at some point. It made sense. Jason was about fifteen when she died for him and small due to his time on the streets. Stunted growth, likely. They probably assumed she was about fourteen right now, despite the year technically making them sixteen. Even then, it would make the cutoff for a children's facility.

The bright colors across the walls and floors jarred her a bit after the nothing of so long, but was a welcome change. She tried not to glare at the little sick kids running about as she wheeled slowly along corridors, not quite able to walk on these stick thin legs.

Reports of a child John Doe had been filed, but no one really looked at those that hadn't lost their kid, so no one who would recognize Jason ever saw his report. She would be here a while. At least until she recovered enough to be considered okay for discharge. Then she would be put into the system as an orphan. She had no intention of staying long enough to see that through.

Jason and her had taken to the streets before and would thrive out there more than in any foster home they could find her. For now, she would settle back and allow the recovery process to take control. 

…

Or so she thought. She'd only been awake for a little over a month, but she guessed the file must've been put through when she first came in to try and find his guardian. Someone, somewhere, recognized Jason Todd. 

Whoever they were sold the information to Talia Al Ghul.

The woman came in the middle of the night and stole Marinette away. With this weak body and useless voice box, struggling didn't even seem like an option.

Where would it get her, anyways? Dropped off a rooftop and possibly stuck in a grave again? Talia could kill her again and she wouldn't stand a chance in defending herself. Marinette was not willing to take that chance, so she stayed complacent in her kidnapping.

Talia asked many questions of her, curious as to the state of her new play thing. She had to have known that Jason was supposed to be dead. Marinette didn't bother with paying the questions any attention. It's not like she could respond and she felt hesitant to reveal the inability. She worried over what Talia would do upon finding out the extent of the damage. Would keeping Jason be worth it to her?

Either way, she sensed the ever festing frustration in the older woman with every passing inquiry left unanswered. The look in her eyes spoke of a willingness to torture the information out of her.

Good luck with that. 

At the same time, what could Marinette possibly lose at this point. She already died once and had no home to return to. The once ever present tug in her mind was long gone and hadn't returned with her resurrection. She already lost Jason and her old life. If she actually died again by Talia's hand, would it kill her as well by this point? The body was as good as hers what with the lost connection. Either she could either actually die in it now or she was immortal. When it came to it, with no connection or way to truly live on or track down her past life, she had nothing left to fear.

Eventually she came to a decision. Looking up at the woman before her, she lifted a hand to point to the throat and quickly made a slashing motion across it, which Talia immediately nodded in understanding at. She left for a moment only to drop into the seat across the way again and drop a notebook and pen between them. Marinette picked it up and slowly wrote out a phrase.

'Vocal Chords destroyed.'

Talia only nodded and gestured to continue.

'Long coma, deteriorated muscles. Not much function.'

"And coming back from the dead? How'd that happen?" 

Marinette only shrugged. She truly didn't have an answer. Luckily that seemed sufficient an answer.

"Your brain is fully functional though. I can see how closely you're watching me. Waiting and observing. Not nearly as reckless as your past actions made you out to be. Perhaps dying has that affect though."

Marinette only watched silently as Talia mulled the thought over.

"And the damage otherwise?"

'Mostly healed over. Weakened though.'

The following conversation continued much the same. Talia asked questions and either answered them herself or waited for a short response in return. It didn't take long to get the full extent of the situation hashed out. Talia seemed to regard her with an excited gleam now and reassured her that that could all be fixed. Not to worry, the process only hurt a little. In the end, 'Jason' would feel all better.

Marinette wasn't sure exactly how to respond to this news. Yes, the promise of healing faster and possibly regaining her voice was a tempting offer, but in the end, she knew the woman wanted something from her. The price of health would be steep, of that she seemed sure. Again, she couldn't help but wonder what her alternatives were. This would happen whether or not she consented. Might as well make it feel like she had some control over the situation, if only for the comfort it lent her. She gave a jerky nod and watched the woman's smile grow.

Letting this head loll to the side, Marinette blanked out on everything else, falling into a restless sleep for the duration of their journey to wherever they were going.

…

Over the next few weeks, she woke up in random locations, being carted off into a hotel and up towards their rooms. She was never allowed to leave the room or do much more than eat and drink and use the restroom. It was similar to how she imagined prisoners lived, only in nicer conditions. Talia, while adjusted to live in any conditions, preferred to live luxuriously after all. And it wouldn't do to have a random, half dead kid following her around, raising questions all the time. Marinette couldn't truly blame her for that. She remained hidden.

…

At the end of their travels, she followed Talia out of the final hotel room and out into a cab. The cab dropped them off at a seemingly random location only for the two to walk out into the dessert. She wouldn't be surprised if that cab was only a front for the league. They walked for well over an hour, Marinette lucky to have healed enough to walk so long, even though it started to wear her down after the first thirty minutes, only determination to not be left behind moving her forward.

Talia must've stolen her without informing anyone else of her intentions. Otherwise, she's sure they would've taken a more direct and less discreet route. As it was, they reached a cave entrance and made their way down and down until eventually they begin to veer down different paths, Talia disabling traps as they went.

Eventually they reached an opening into a glowing green room, the glow emitting from a massive pool in the center. Something about the place set her on edge. The glow reminding her of Plagg's toxic green eyes and letting off what had to be a magical aura. Talia smiled down at her in a reassuring manner, putting a hand to the small of this body, nudging her forward.

Calculating the risk, it seemed her best bet to go along with the woman's plan. Talia would want her alive, so surely this wouldn't kill her. Plus, Talia seemed sincere in her promise of healing this body up and Marinette might as well be a walking lie detector at this point. The woman meant her every word. Taking a deep breath, she only hoped this magic would accept her as well as the miraculouses had.

Hovering a foot over the pool, she hesitated only a moment before remembering Kagami's advice from all those years ago. Hesitation had never helped her before and had no place here. Blinking, she nodded and let herself drop down into the pit.

[a-stitch-in-time-and-space]

Headcanon: Julian Bashir is autistic and has frequent sensory overload, and the only two people who can help him are Garek and O’ Brien. Me? Projecting? It’s more likely than you think!!!

Ha, moooood. Which on that note I have a somewhat intense fic here in which Julian has a meltdown. It’s not related to sensory issues so much as “oh boy a lot of shit’s happened to him” but if you want more O'Brien helping him out after this – so because we gave that fic to O'Brien, let’s give this one to Garak.

Also can we talk about the fact that it’s canon that Julian and the other augments can hear sounds at decibels that non-augments can’t and that it causes them pain, but Julian just taught himself to not react, like fuck, how did someone write this and not follow through on Julian-Bashir-is-autistic-and-or-otherwise-nd!

sorry for taking so long, a. this got a bit longish so it’s under a cut and b. I got distracted by the fact that I always want to see everyone’s notes on reblogs in case of interesting discussion points and i have just now learnt that that cannot be done easily if a lot of people reblog at once… oh hyper-fixation how you get me time and again

this takes place post-Doctor Bashir I Presume and alludes to the fact that during this time Garak and Bashir’s interactions were gradually stripped away in the show (because it too gay) - Andy Robinson ran with that in A Stitch In Time and had Garak write about how much he regretted the two of them not remaining close/hinted that he was in love with him… so take that background as you will.

—— More Space ——-

Thank goodness, he thought after an indeterminate amount of time. O'Brien was here. He would be able to calm him down, he would know how to come up with some soothing description of exactly which of DS9’s pistons or pipes or programs was currently making that noise and he’d either fix it or stay with him until it sorted itself out. Or maybe the noise was gone and the residual whining was just himself recreating it perfectly in his head, or maybe he was just too far gone by now for it to matter, but O'Brien would help. Since the two of them had become friends and some of Julian’s old ticks had returned after his augmentation had come to light, Miles had been a surprisingly steady presence in his life.

“Doctor?”

No, not Miles.

Garak.

He couldn’t make himself respond. His body felt like it was compressing him into a vice, with all his ability to focus somehow splintered into a million shards, each of them painful to the touch. Oh no, what if Garak touched him? If Garak touched him right now he might shatter or scream or something else entirely outside of his control, but talking was also impossible right now, so he couldn’t ask him not to touch, please don’t touch-

Garak sat down in front of him, far enough away that it didn’t feel like too… much.

“Doctor. You don’t need to say or do anything.”

He could manage that.

“I was wondering why you’d missed our lunch date. Very pleased to find you didn’t simply opt not to come without telling me, although I find the alternative to be distressing.”  He stopped talking for a moment then. “Apologies for breaking into your room. Again.”

While Garak simply sat and occasionally spoke Julian was dimly aware of the fact that he could feel his edges hardening again. The shards were being pulled back together.

He also noticed now that he was freezing. It usually happened like that, having sat sedentary for however long or coming down from some emotional extreme. He shivered.

“This station is cold,” said Garak.“The temperature, the lights, the people… all too cold.”

Julian managed a smile and it was like his mouth was freed from a curse. “It is, isn’t it.”

“Not to mention loud,” Garak added.

“All that machinery,” Julian nodded and spoke slowly. His mouth still needed to unstick. “Every time an alarm goes it’s like a sharp pain… I used to be… much better at this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I used to… I used to get these all the time as a child. Meltdowns, shutdowns, I think. But then my parents told me later that it was a side-effect of the augmentations and I tried to… to will myself to stop them, to bypass my natural instincts in order to not be found out and it worked, in a way, or at least nobody found out. I familiarised myself with and categorised any sights, sounds, smells, feelings I came across on earth during my Starfleet training and ordered them into lists and sublists: What I could handle mostly, what I could handle sometimes, what I needed to avoid at all costs. I managed to… to pretend. And then I came to Deep Space Nine and for awhile it was all too much again, I had to make new lists, but I managed, I really… I really did, I really did, I really-” he was talking himself into hyperventilating again, he knew this, but he couldn’t stop now, “- and then I got captured and it was like everything just stopped. I barely- I don’t even remember most of it, but when I got back it was so much worse -”

“Julian,” said Garak and the sound of his first name coming from Garak’s mouth surprised him back to the now. “Julian,” said Garak again. “You’re here. With me. On a floor that is quite cold, I might add.”

Julian breathed out and mumbled under the exhale. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.”

“What is that,” asked Garak.

“Counting my fingers. It… helps.”

“Noted,” and the easy way in which Garak seemed to have just accepted that he would be helping Julian again in future was another shock to his system, but then why wouldn’t he? Even if they hadn’t met up as often as they used to. Even if he was untrustworthy at heart and Julian could never figure out why Garak wanted his company at all. He found he missed Garak’s simple and complicated nature. It grounded him, somehow.

He got up off the floor, reaching out for Garak when he stumbled. He held him just tight enough to make sure that he wouldn’t fall. Not overcrowding – Julian suddenly remembered that Garak was claustrophobic. He must know how easily sensory inputs could become too much.

At Garak’s questioningly soft hold on his arm, Julian nodded and he helped him to the sofa. “Would you like some water?”

Julian nodded. As Garak went to fetch it, he began to talk again. Somehow… he just needed to get it out now, like an excision. “After the truth came out my mother told me that they’d been lying. I mean, they’ve been lying about so much, but specifically about this. I’ve always been like this. Or. Some of it. The meltdowns. I thought… those memories weren’t real. But now they are? Some of them. I’m having trouble sorting them.”

Garak handed him the water.

“I developed a theory,” said Julian, forgetting to sip.

“Tell me your theory doctor,” said Garak, his tone of voice tender as he sat down beside him, again, close enough if he needed him, but not too close.

“I was wondering why a heightened inability to process inputs was a side-effect of the vast majority of augments, when I had this inability before my augmentation. I started to suspect that it was less to do with the augmentations and was simply… who we were. The augmentations gone wrong could throw that into extremes, but that may have more to do with medical trauma responses than… anyway, I can’t confirm until I have more data. I did research into my own developmental delays, the medical history – it’s fascinating how we repeat cycles actually, first it was considered a form of possession or changelings, then it began to be classed under a broad form of what would be known as schizophrenia, then divided into narrow and still somewhat inaccurate categories of autism, aspergers, adhd, add, high and low functioning etcera, and then was gradually broadened again under general brain-differences known as neuroatypicals or neurodiverse,” he took a breath and continued: “- I’m not too interested in 21st century history honestly, but I know the government upheavals affected medical classifications and concepts of what was known broadly as “disabilities” at the time, and that it fundamentally shifted again once we formed the federation. But then -” and here he started gesticulating widely in excitement or outrage - “it all becomes the same just repackaged, doesn’t? Stigma against augments who are overwhelmingly people like me is stigma against neurodiversity is stigma against the “possessed,” it’s…” he trailed off. “It’s all the same,” he finished lamely.

He’d become very aware suddenly that he’d done that thing that annoyed most of the people he ever conversed with, running his mouth while forgetting the other person. But Garak didn’t seem annoyed. He was listening intently, in fact. At the pause he even nodded and offered: “The history of such matters is different on Cardassia. Or rather, mental and developmental differences don’t get acknowledged on Cardassia.”

“Eugenics?” said Julian with a frown.

“Not as such. We don’t mind in theory, as long as everyone can perform the tasks they’re assigned to. It’s a… class thing. If you belong to a powerful family and are expected to do great things in the army or politics or the sciences, being unable to do so for any reason is usually – what is the term humans use? - “Swept under the rug.” But then someone like you, dear doctor, if you had been Cardassian it might surprisingly have been easier for you.”

Julian shook his head. “My abilities are due to my augmentations. I’d have been… I don’t know. Not me,” he said softly.

At that, Garak gave him a look that he couldn’t pin down. Something… surprised for a moment, almost? Then smoothed out into an enigmatic smile. “Perhaps. From what you tell me you’ve always processed like you do, you’ve just been given better tools to translate and more…” he searched for the word for a second, before landing on: “space.”

At that Julian burst out into an unexpected laugh. “I certainly have enough space out here. More than enough, I’d say.”

Garak’s smile deepened. “But it doesn’t matter. Either you were always going to be able to pursue medicine and the stigmas of your parents and surrounding society were preventing you from discovering that on your own, or your augmentations made you unlock new abilities. But on Cardassia someone with the kind of passion you possess would have done well, with or without them.”

“If I were born into the right class. And if I didn’t get arrested for being fundamentally against the militaristic state.”

“Naturally,” acceded Garak. “And I must say I’m quite relieved to find the incorruptible, perfect federation comes with its own flaws. One wouldn’t have expected it with the way humans constantly go on about it.”

“Oh, we go on about the federation? According to you Cardassia is superior in culture -”

“- oh, definitely -”

“- politics -”

“- without a doubt, my dear -”

“- criminal justice system?”

“- well, we’ve never brought a wrong case before the court-”

“- I know you’re just saying that to rile me up-”

“- my dear doctor, when have I ever been anything but sincere?”

“- when have you ever said anything you meant?”

“- I am offended, truly-” said Garak with a big grin on his face.

Julian found it the easiest thing in the galaxy to return.

“Remember to drink your water,” he was reminded, gently, before they continued their lunch discussion. It was a moment in which they both forgot that they had ever begun to drift apart in the first place.

—— The End ——-

[ofmythsandmadness]

i need a favour - four.

PART FOUR - and so, the truth starts to come out (just a little). or, someone starts to realise that what she’s feeling is a little more than just nerves about this fake relationship - that she might be a bit more invested than she ever would have thought.

WORD COUNT - 2819. A/N -  This is a mess of a chapter, sorry folks. I’m not great at this. My gay ass is really just trying to make this work for y’all and truly, it shows. If you want to be added to the taglist, just ask and let me know. As well, if I missed you, just shoot a heads up.

SHE EAGERLY ACCEPTED THE CUP, only to hissing and hurry to place it down. However, she waved off Vanya’s immediate ‘I’m sorry’s’ with a sheepish grin. “It’s fine, I’m good. See?” She waved her slightly reddened fingers to prove her point - which the girl did not really buy, but at least seemed somewhat mollified.

After daring to test another sip - and regretting it immediately after - Y/N turned her attention back to the other woman, sitting across from her. They were around the same height, and yet every time Vanya always looked so much smaller, like a child in an adult’s body who’s too lost in this cruel world to properly function yet.

Far too apt for a vague thought, she bitterly rebutted herself.

“Sorry for stopping by like this,” she started, readjusting herself against the couch cushions. “I just wanted to pass on my well wishes and I saw the posters for the orchestra, figured I should pass on the good will in person.”

Vanya smiled softly. “It’s no problem. And thanks, yeah...yeah, the kids have been working hard.”

By the kids, she meant a small collection of junior students who she had begun to teach after the apocalypse situation. She still nursed a myriad of trauma around performing herself, but she had been encouraged (by both Y/N and her therapist, as well as her siblings when they were about) to not give up on something she loved. And so, she took up teaching again, but went about it with the hopes of creating a mini group of performers of her own. Y/N could tell it was not the same as performing herself, but at least it was something. As she worked on both herself and her strange abilities, it would be enough.

“I hope I can still crash the party? I don’t know much about classical music, but I have gotten quite good at pretending like I know more than I do. Diego’s nonsense helps with that.”

The other girl’s smile bloomed a little, at that. “Is he playing plus one to that, too?”

“Huh - oh, yeah, well...I don’t know,” she stuttered, stumbling over every word like it was from a whole new language. “Haven’t asked, but you know, no matter what the guy says he likes kids. Maybe he can uh, put...put the knives away for the night. Or something.”

“He doesn’t have to-”

“-no, of course he’d-”

“-it’s not his scene, and he’s a busy guy,” Vanya rushed, “you don’t have to feel bad. It was just a joke.”

Normally, Y/N would know that. In fact, she would be so quick to catch any joyful points in their conversations that she would overplay her reactions, laugh a bit too hard and like, slap her knee or something stupid like that. But that time, the reference had gone right over her head and then slapped her right in the back, enough to make her fall over and collapse. She was doing her best to get up and rebuild that hole in her wall again, but it was difficult and she could feel herself coming undone by every passing second.

As if sensing her panic - or maybe just seeing it as it was displayed on her face - Vanya moved forward and gently touched her hand. “I didn’t mean to start anything, or - or say something wrong.”

“Oh. No. NO, you did nothing wrong.”

“But-”

“-sorry, I just lost my train of thought and along with it went my brain, I guess.” Y/N was back to smiling, but it was fake as shit and both of them knew it. “What were we talking about?”

“Hey...is ev-what’s wrong, Y/N?”

She knew Vanya was only trying to be nice - and genuinely nice, as sign by her changing the bland ‘are you okay’ to a real question. She also knew that she had dug herself into a really, really deep hole and it was going to take a whole shit tonne of climbing to get out of it. And this time, she was not sure a smack on the lips was going to solve the issue.

“Would you believe me if I say I’m all good?” Y/N tried weakly, only to sign and slump into the couch when her head shook no. “Alright. Uh...you got anything stronger than coffee? This is a douzy.”

“I think I can handle it. Considering...everything.”

She laughed bitterly from between her friend’s couch cushions, then attempting to smother herself between them. It did not work, but it was nice to hide her face for a quick moment. “This might just be more surprising then everything else, Vannie...believe me.”

Vanya came back quickly with the glasses, and Y/N hesitated none to gulp the drink down regardless of the burn. After that, she struggled through the entire story, the ups and downs and even the stupid little anecdotes shared between her and Diego just to make it seem a bit funnier than it was - like it was just a fun game and not her love life being through around and about like nuts. But honestly recounting it back just made it sound even more dismal and humiliating and plain-out weirder. More than it already was to her.

Vanya was silent throughout it all, simply nodding along and letting her speak without pause. She supposed that was a good thing, she was grateful there was no need to stop - mostly because if she did, she might just never speak again.

Y/N finished it off with a sigh and a wry smile, raising her glass to her lips in an attempt to get the last drops out, sans manners and any grace. “That’s that,” she grumbled. “That’s...that’s that.”

And all Vanya said to that, was a quiet, monotone, rather emotionless, “oh.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “Oh? That’s it?”

“Well - I don’t - I don’t know what to say.”

“Oh.”

“It’s just unexpected,” she offered up. When the only response was a quirk of her eyebrows, Vanya moved to explain. “I just thought...you two really had just gone for it. Like we had always teased you two about.”

Her cheeks bloomed with colour, forcing Y/N to duck her head and hide the flush. Not that it did much good, the splotchy red was much too eager to show her embarrassment then appease her. “No. ‘Fraid not. We’re just friends...who are now pretending to be sleeping with each other.”

“But why?”

She shrugged haplessly. “He wanted a break from everyone dogging him about being single, I guess...and I didn’t have anything better to do. I figure do ‘im a favour, he does one back, we’re even - except I didn’t really think it’d be this...big.” As in, she did not imagine kissing him. In front of his entire family, sans Five and their dear old dead daddy.

And also, actually fucking enjoying it.

“And technically, we’re not supposed to say a word to anyone, it’s on the list - but man, I just, I just need to talk to someone about this.” She gratefully accepted the second drink, swallowing it down in three hearty gulps. “I feel like I’m drowning.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. I mean, I agreed to this, right? And it’s my fault for thinking this could be a walk in the park. I just thought...I don’t know what I thought. I guess I didn’t.”

Vanya smiled a little at that, and finally moved, walking around her coffee table to take a seat beside Y/N. She took the other’s hand in hers, squeezing ever so lightly. “It’ll be okay. It’s only a couple months, right?”

“I guess, but I feel like I’m already screwing it all up. I mean, it’s been like a week and a half? And I’ve already made a fool in front of everyone, and kissed him - and then blurted out the secret to someone! I mean, I might as well propose to him and then tell him our entire friendship is a lie, too!”

Despite herself, Vanya grinned, finding the humour in Y/N’s words, despite the panic on her face. She squeezed her hand a little tighter. “You’ll be okay.”

“How do you know that, though?”

“Because,” she replied slowly, “you told someone, but just one. And I’m not going to say a word to him. Okay?”

“Okay…”

“...and you didn’t make a fool out of yourself, really. You guys were cute. And everyone believed it, mostly because they’ve all secretly wanted you two to get together for years. I mean, since the moment they first heard your name leave Diego’s lips, Allison was making wedding invitations and Klaus was coming up with the worst moments to drop hints about you. I’m surprised you never caught them,” Vanya finished, lip curling a little at the memories.

Y/N knew enough about the siblings’ thoughts about her and Diego. It was unavoidable and for the most part she was fine with them conspiring. It was only when the mention of Diego came up, when one of them said something alluding to the fact that maybe he talked about her a little more than mere friends...that maybe there was a whole lot she did not know about.

Just as she was going to ask Vanya what she was referring to, the other girl cut her off. “And the kiss, like you said it was nothing. You had to do it, and it didn’t mean anything. So you’re still okay.”

And at that, she felt all the blood that had flooded her face drain right out, leaving her pale and panicked next to her close friend. And just like before, there was no hiding her expression or the plain out anxiety attack raging underneath her skin.

It did not take a wizard, to figure out what had caused it.

“Oh, Y/N-”

“-I don’t know, it just-”

“-Y/N...”

Y/N slumped back and covered her face with the cushion, groaning loudly into the fabric. “Shit.”

||

WHEN HE CAME BY THAT NIGHT, she was cold. 

Polite, and caring as always - but cold in her actions, in her few-word replies, in the way she shied away from any near-touch possibly laid upon her skin.

It was not intentional, at least not at the start. She was a mess most of the afternoon and early evening, but then as the sun fell and the hours crept away faster and faster, she felt herself close off. Even from herself. Like she had rebuilt that wall but it had been built too high and too close, so everything was left out of her heart. Not enough so it could not hurt, not so she could not feel waves of guilt every time she did something stand-offish - but enough to make it continue.

She knew he felt it too, but neither said a thing on it. For that, she was grateful. It was easier to move in silence then have to stop and think about the storm in her head. Mostly? Because if she did let her guard down maybe even a second, she might collapse entirely. And no one could have that.

“Here. Take these.”

His only response was a grunt and a nod, fingers barely brushing hers to take the small pills. She pushed back her worries and maintained the same blank expression, watching as he dry-swallowed the Advil. When he was done, she pushed off the coffee table.

“Need anything else?”

“No.”

“Okay. Shower, there’s some of your shit in the dryer now you can change into. Come in when you’re done.”

“I’ll just-”

“-you’re not goin’ anywhere,” she barked. For a moment, she softened, considering a sweeter tone and more reason than shouting orders. But quickly that idea shrivelled up. “It’s late. You need rest. You’re already here anyways.”

“I’m not-”

“-Diego, please.”

He finally left the couch. She heard him moving behind her, but dared not turn to look his way. Instead, her eyes remained train forward, frozen on the window he had come through Watching, tracing the frame, paralysed in replaying all the instances in which she had stood there before. 

“What did I do?”

Her eyes clenched shut, squeezing with all her might; gone was the window, replaced only by darkness. “Nothing. I’m just tired.” A slight pause, then: “sorry.”

“There’s more than that, isn’t there?” Slow, stumbling steps in the shallow dark walked her way. They remained a distance away - and yet she felt like he was right there. “I did something.”

“No.”

“Bullshit. You’re upset - at me.” There was bitter humour in his voice then. “I’ve known you too long to believe any of your lies.”

When Y/N opened her eyes again, they watered and struggled to even make out the shadows, finding the night still pressing into her skull. Digging its claws in, trying to wrench out all her fears and emotions and the shit she had buried deep deep deep within. Offer up her heart on a silver platter and leave her dead in the process.

She smiled ever so slightly. In the words of Cher fucking Horowitz, ‘as if’. No weepy confessions to be made that night.

Instead, she turned and made her lips turn up more, into a more believable grin. “I’m sorry. It’s been - it’s been a long week, feels like everything’s hitting me. I didn’t mean to take that out on you.”

“I-I know-”

“-it’s okay,” she murmured, voice hitching at his slight stutter. “It’s fine. Seriously, Diego, I just need to sleep this off. And uh, so do you.”

Diego sighed, hesitating as he thought over his words before pushing forward. “Why do you put up with me, do all this?”

“I’m not doing much.”

“You should be sleeping.”

“Sleep is overrated, you and I both know that.”

“Come on.”

“I’m being serious!”

“You’re exhausted, Y/N.”

She shrugged lightly. “Maybe. But I’d rather sacrifice an hour or two if - if it means I know you’re alright.”

Those words not the words that she had originally planned on saying. But they came out anyways, and hung heavily in the air, a wall of tension that left both sides unsure of what came next.

Before he could try and pry, ask about those softly spoken words, about the way her voice cracked a little at the end, she spoke. “I’m your girlfriend, Diego, can you blame me for caring about you getting home safe or not? I mean, I can’t have the love of my life dead in a fuckin’ alley somewhere.”

At that, she just smiled and turned, hurrying off to her room. She heard him speak, but it was too soft to pick up, and so she discarded it with the rest of the conversation. Just let herself sink into the blankets once more and shut her eyes, begging for sleep even when her brain was more awake than ever. Like she could sleep, after this. She never did.

Y/N listened instead as he moved around, shuffling into the bathroom and starting up the shower. He was brief, only a few moments before the water turned off and he was back to quietly rustling around. Soon enough, maybe ten minutes or so and he was in the doorway of her bedroom.

She shut her eyes and pretended to be already asleep, just as she always did. Let him feel safe within the darkness, moving to the other side and slipping under the covers. He laid still and at the edge, as always, still as anything so as not to overstep any boundaries. Sometimes, she smiled at that - other times, she longed for him to roll over and move close to her, put his arms around her and-

-with a start, Y/N realised that the silence had been broken by him. He had sighed, followed by a soft sniffle. She dared not move even a muscle, frozen against her pillow as Diego groaned once more and adjusted his pillow. 

And just when she thought it was over, he spoke. Just three words, soft as a breath. If it were not for the heavy silence, she would not have caught it, but he might as well had shouted it in that instant.

“You fucking idiot.”

Y/N dared to breathe, soft and slow, attempting to play asleep. But even if she wasn’t pulling it off, she was not sure if he even heard, so wrapped up in his own thoughts. 

Not for the first time, she longed to roll over and touch him, reassure him she was there with him. Ask what was on his mind, and if their thoughts paralleled in any way or form. But like always, they remained on opposite ends, too eager to maintain a friendship to overstep. She remained still and staring out into the darkness, listening to her exhales matching with his own shallow breaths.

Neither of them would sleep much, that night.

TAGLIST -  @asexualmarauder​ @thatshellfiredean​ @the-bird-suit​  @rangotangomango​ @fandomsandmore394​ @thatkidofwarandpeace​ @antoouu @soul-of-a-traveller​ @yall-wildin-like-siriusly​ @artsyle​

[smolbeandrabbles]

Director’s Cut 1: Andrew ‘Pope’ Cody

“I find it difficult to find any redeeming qualities in this character. He is a person with spot on DSM antisocial personality disorder, with sociopathic traits and without the charming facade. But the mental health professional in me also sees him as neurodiverse, on the spectrum. At any rate, I can’t find any allure or menacing sexuality in him. How did you find redeeming qualities within Pope? And how the heck did you come up with a female OC who can interpret his cues and find warmth and attraction from him? I enjoy your fics about him, others I’ve read have basically torture porn.”

Wow, okay, Andrew. You’ve picked a really interesting one here. So, lets start with some background... Which I will try to condense as much as possible.

Also, for ease of talking, I’m going to give our Reader back her OC name and therefore when I refer to ‘Elaiyna’ that’s your reader character! 😁 Background I was never meant to write for Andrew Cody from the movie. My first watch of the movie left me cold and, to be honest I still find it very difficult to watch even now. (The movie is great for sure, but it’s not one I rewatch often.) Without a long explanation as to ‘why’, I watched the movie so that I could watch the US TV show version of Animal Kingdom. Which I highly recommend!

Where as Movie!Andrew I couldn’t get into at all, Show!Andrew I fell in love with. It took me one episode to come up with my OC and a decent story line.  Although I never actually wrote it out I had many plot points saved on a document for how Andrew/Elaiyna’s relationship would play out. So really, you have Shawn Hatosy to thank-! 

Who, super side note, deserves an Emmy for this. And also can someone please get him and Ben in an interview to talk about Andrew - I will beg! 

When I decided to start writing and posting for Andrew here (considering I had the plot points and we were taking the Mendos as far as we could) - I essentially wrote a mix of Show!Andrew and Movie!Andrew. Honestly tipped in favour of the show. But very recently I’ve tried to write much more for Movie!Andrew as I’m 99.9% sure that’s who everyone reading my work is reading for anyway!

How did you find redeeming qualities within Pope? 

The only real answer is Show!Andrew. I love him so much, and they explore a lot with his character - as they of course have time to, that a 1hr30 movie doesn’t - so it’s very easy to find redeeming qualities in a character that’s at a very different stage to his movie counterpart (and yet is still the same character and recognisable as the same character... Show!Andrew is the build up to the man we get in the movie, if you will.). Show!Andrew has that same... creepy/awkward vibe, but also has a lot of sweet, decent human being moments that give you his more redeeming qualities (without spoiling anything major his relationship with Lena, Baz’s daughter, is a good example). 

But also I view Andrew in the movie very differently to the way that I believe most people do. Movie Andrew doesn’t scare me. Sure, he does scary things, but to me he just comes across as very awkward. Like, he knows what a situation calls for and kinda adapts to that - or he says things because he’s like “That’s what people say in this situation right?” at least that’s how I interpret him. No matter how incorrect that is.  Like there’s no social queues in his character, he doesn’t really fit into those kinds of situations (or function well!) but he observes everything. So he knows that “If X happens, say/do Y. Because that’s what people do.” regardless of his own “feelings” etc. I don’t think he has emotional intelligence and there’s a definite disconnect between think and feel and... I guess instinct? That ‘primal brain’ thing. 

I mean I know it’s interpretation but that scene where he carries Nicky to bed and then like strokes her hair back and then tells Jay “She’s beautiful.” Doesn’t give me any other vibe other than Andrew having observed this and his brain going ‘Oh, yeah, Andrew - then compliment her to her boyfriend. That’s a thing people do.’ Just the way my brain works I guess.

The obvious follow up question would be “Okay, so you love him in the show. But you write for him in the movie. So... you gotta have something redeeming there right? Now you’re leaving Show!Andrew on a shelf? Correct - I kinda feel like Andrew has at least some ‘relationships’ to which he actually feels something. Which is why I’m reluctant to place the “Psychopath” tag on him. Look at his relationship with Baz for instance (honestly, that supermarket scene is my very favourite.) - I just get this “friends” vibe. Like real friends, maybe even best friends. Andrew cares enough about him to want vengeance (I’m not down for thinking this is just him wanting to be a criminal I genuinely think this is a reaction to losing his best friend - and arguably his stability.) And I mean, he cares about his family. Even if not in the traditional ‘sense’ of caring. 

I also want to give a quick shout out to @mandy23b​​ - as Andrew is her favourite, and conversations with her on how she views him really help me shape Andrew in my head. For example she has a lot of headcanons about how he grew up (eg: potential physical abuse) that I am happy to adopt. So, my own personal headcanons / adopted head canons about him also help to make him redeemable. 

And how the heck did you come up with a female OC who can interpret his cues and find warmth and attraction from him? 

Oh my gosh, Elaiyna. Okay, well aside from again her starting with Show!Andrew and me basically lifting their entire relationship and giving it to Movie!Andrew there’s a lot about her that I guess ‘prepares’ her for him.

First - they meet because the Cody’s case her car (...Ready For It?), assume she has a lot of money and try to rob her. She knows who he is before they form a relationship - the barrier of “oh by the way I’m a career criminal” is broken instantly.  Second - Although she’s an only child her parents have fostered a lot of children over the years (More details in ‘Flaws’) and so she’s used to a lot of siblings and the bonds between siblings. Added to this it’s not hard to imagine that some of these foster children might have had neurodivergancies of their own and therefore she’s also used to people that act like Andrew does. Third - David ( ‘Flaws’ and ‘Last Habit’) her eldest foster sibling is a Police officer, and they have a close relationship. Figure she could learn a lot from him. Both on crime/criminals and then maybe neurodivergant criminals too. He’s bound to have at least some stories that might help her. Fourth - Not to make some kind of robot comparison for our Boi here but, she works in IT. She’s the CIO for her firm. Draw your own conclusions on relationships with something/one with basically zero emotional output.

I find your comments on other fics you’ve read very interesting. Because to me Andrew just isn’t sexual. (I might be in the minority, because other fic writers I’ve talked to tend to put him in ‘physical only’ / highly sexually charged relationships) He’s never read that way to me. ‘4 In the Morning’ is the first time I’ve thought to write something that is sexy for him. Although I have alluded to sexual elements of their relationship in other fics.  Their relationship to me has always been on a quiet understanding level. He observes and learns about her and is fairly quiet about it. Elaiyna is more extroverted, but also observes and learns about him very quickly. So instead of PDA and verbal “I love you’s” they have this non-verbal communication that isn’t always physical either. Although touch sometimes plays into it.  Because that just the kind of relationship that I see him in - sex is rare, and when it happens it’s not because of this big “I love you” romantic build up - it’s spontaneous. That part of his primal brain is kicked in and it’s like “Okay. We’re doing this now.” For his character I understand the “draw” to write something like that (even though, like I say, I don’t see him being interested.) but I’m just very much a romantic... 😅 So I want to write something Romantic even for a Mendo who you wouldn’t necessarily fit into a romantic role. Their story still has “romantic” tenancies. Like it’s a loving relationship it’s just a different kind of love. I don’t feel like he would necessarily know that he loves her, or even comprehend what ‘love’ is. But he knows he feels something for her that’s very different to how he feels about other people. Which is why when Elaiyna does say ‘I love you’ it’s not reciprocated with words - and rarely with actions. She knows he loves her, even if he doesn’t know it. Their relationship is very ‘quiet’ but she knows that’s just how he is - and he will show “affection” as he deems fit and appropriate to show it. Even if - again - it’s not a “typical” way of showing it. And when he wants affection himself it’s more, “I am hugging you now on MY terms. But in 5 seconds I will walk away as if nothing happened.” He is more often enough the one to initiate anything PDA and Elaiyna will wait for him to come to her. If her read on him is *just* right then she’ll initiate, but then there’s the consequences of getting it wrong and Andrew pushing her away... I definitely base a lot of the beginning of their relationship on them just finding each other fascinating. He’s completely different to any other man she’s ever met, and he’s never met someone so interested in him that doesn’t try to change him and/or however he treats her is met more with understanding than conflict. 

I say I love all my OCs, of course I do. But Elaiyna is one I really had to think about building because of Andrew’s own personality. It had to make sense for her to be with someone like him - their relationship had to make sense and keep him (mostly) in character. So she needed to be able to interpret his cues, as you so nicely put it 😊 But I think I gave her the right tools to do this, and, with Show!Andrew she got the right base to jump from. 

I know this is super long, but I hope it helps in your understanding of how I’ve built Andrew’s relationship with his S/O! 🙏 And more importantly answers the questions you have! 

---

Thank you SO much for asking! If anyone else wants a Fanfic directors cut for any of my fics please ask! I would love to answer any questions! 🥰😘

[chibimyumi]

Hi Myumi chan, I adore your analysis! I'd like to know more about Japanese fandom if possible. Like you said, language shapes our thought, maybe you guys understand better the intention of author thanks to the same culture. For example, which character do you think tends to be the strongest till now? I used to think yana deliberately makes Sebastian stronger than others cause he's the main character and a supernatural. But now I notice that he might be less intelligent than Undertaker...

Hi Anon-san/dono/sama/chin/han/kun/tan/rin (okay okay sorry, I just didn’t know how to address you), thank you for your sweet words! 💖

I wouldn’t say Japanese speakers necessarily understand Kuroshitsuji better, as the story is not based on Japanese culture. It is merely that nuances might be missed. The only times that the non-Japanese audience had a very clear disadvantage were caused by translation error, e.g. Grell’s gender, Frances referring to Lizzie who would protect O!Ciel (not the way around) in the Campania arc, and the translation error in the earliest chapters that made definite alluding towards O!Ciel being an only child.

Strongest Character

As for who the strongest character is; I would say it is Undertaker (for now), who managed to almost effortlessly injure Sebastian fatally. I don’t think this is interpretation based, however; when the scythe hit Sebastian, he basically screamed the same “f*ck my life” in every language version.

Brute Force vs Strategy

I would not necessarily say that Sebastian is less intelligent than Undertaker. We don’t really know actually.

Yes, as canonically stated, Sebastian is a muscle brain; this however does not mean he is not hyper-intelligent per se. It only means that Sebastian tends to opt for brute strength before he approaches something purely based on intellect/strategy.

Sebas is an incredibly strong demon and very full of himself. I don’t think he has had much experience with not being able to solve a problem with brute force in the human world. And in the manga, he had not run into many occasions where he needed to crack his brain too much, until he ran into Undertaker.

We can see in chapter 102 how Sebastian went straight at the tank without much thinking, and seemed rather surprised that his demon-kick Was Not Very Effective™! Only after his brute-force-attack didn’t seem to do the job, did Sebas realise he might have to approach this problem with a bit more brain.

In this post I wrote about how I think Sebas might have severely underestimated Undertaker the first time he engaged him in battle. Sebas had experience with fighting reapers before; first time against Grell, and the second time a “sparring-match” with Ronald. Both had been more or less successful, and as Sebas had apparently never encountered reapers (on Earth) in his life, Grell and Ronald might have been his only reference to the strength of reapers as a species. It is no surprise then that he might have expected Undertaker to be approximately the same level.

Until the Campania arc, Sebas did not even realise Undertaker was a reaper, let alone an overpowered maniac.Unlike Sebas however, Undertaker did have some estimate of his enemy, and he was therefore prepared.

I was talking with @akumadeshitsumon, and they kindly pointed out to me that Sebas had two other major disadvantages, namely that 1. Sebas was obliged to take Undertaker alive, which left him with only so many options he is normally used to, and 2. He had to do so while protecting a fragile human being.

Intellect

The latest check played against O!Ciel and Sebastian was a brilliant move indeed; it is probable that Undertaker was the mastermind behind these moves, but we are not sure whether he came up with all of this himself. R!Ciel has been established as a genius himself as well, and we know that he has been awake for just long enough to help plotting the big move.

In contrast to Undertaker, Sebastian is not a full authority of his own; he is his master’s pawn and sword. He functions more or less like a shadow king; he can manipulate his master, but he cannot make any decisive moves on his own, unlike Undertaker. Additionally, so far in the manga, Sebas and O!Ciel were never given the chance to causally sit at the drawing table and plot their moves. They have both been forced to act on the spot, unlike Undertaker who might have had years to carefully plan his moves.

Until Sebas is given a chance to be more than a pawn and plan the strategies himself, we will not be able to objectively see who the more intelligent person is.

[alarawriting]

Inktober #19: Sling

Here’s a scene I alluded to in “Dr. Ultraviolet Meets Her Nemesis” (again, lack of functional website, cannot link because that makes the post unsearchable, but you can click on the tag to find the rest of what I’ve got for Dr. Ultraviolet.)

***

“What exactly is this… stuff?” Ultraviolet asked her sister, with a sneer that she hoped was making it clear she could be using stronger language.

“You asked for books,” Scarlett said, “so I brought you some of mine.”

Ultraviolet tried to count to 10, but Scarlett interrupted at 4. “I think you might really like Chiaoscuro. It’s about a superheroine who falls in love with a magnetic, charismatic villain—”

“It’s a romance novel,” Ultraviolet said.

“Yes. I know they weren’t your favorites but—”

“I despise romance novels,” Ultraviolet said. “Would it have truly killed you to go to a bookstore and get me something I might possibly enjoy, rather than just bringing me whatever dreck you happened to have lying around on your bookshelf?”

“There aren’t any bookstores around here. Everest drove them all out of business. I could have ordered from them, but they’re evil.”

Ultraviolet happened to know that this was absolutely true. The last time she’d been invited to attend the Villainy Connection yearly networking event for supervillains, Everest’s CEO Josh Bevel had been the keynote speaker. Given that she herself was a supervillain, this was hardly a dealbreaker for her. “Libraries exist, then. And what about used book stores?”

“Look, I went out of my way to do you a favor, Violet,” Scarlett said. “It’s not like I don’t have a lot going on. I’ve got four kids, the economy’s been slowing down and people aren’t buying houses so much lately, and I’ve been having issues with Gavin.”

From long experience with her sister, Ultraviolet knew that Scarlett wanted her to ask about her issues with Gavin, but Ultraviolet would have had difficulty caring less. “How hard is it to bring me a book that isn’t a godawful romance novel? Do I look like the kind of suburban mom who’s wasted her life dreaming of some Mr. Wonderful sweeping her off her feet?”

“It sounds like you’re saying that’s what I am.”

“The shoes don’t just fit, Scarlett, they’re on sale and you have ten pairs in your closet.”

“Fuck you, Violet. I didn’t need to come here. You know, the doctors told me you were in traction and you broke an arm and both legs and you might have fractured a vertebra in your neck, and I was worried about you.”

Ultraviolet sighed. “I appreciate that you were worried—”

“And I didn’t just bring you romance novels. This one, All The Pretty Little Horsies, is about the hunt for a serial killer.”

“What made you think I was interested in true crime, either?” They were in a private ward, but the door was open, nurses bustling around outside, so Ultraviolet didn’t say what she really wanted to, which was “I’m a supervillain, my life is a true crime story, why would I want to read about cops hunting a criminal down?” Admittedly there was a huge difference between her genius and ambitions to reshape the world in the image she wanted, and a mundane serial killer getting his jollies by killing teenage girls or something, but on principle Ultraviolet did not want to be sympathizing with cops.

“Well, it’s kind of like what you do for your career, right?”

Ultraviolet couldn’t control the exasperation in her sigh. “Only in the sense that your career involves selling people haunted houses where evil brownies will crawl out of the walls at night and devour them.”

“That… has nothing to do with what I do.”

“I rest my case.”

“Usually I don’t even sell the houses! I prefer being a buyer’s agent. The seller gets money at closing, but the buyer gets a new future. A place that’s going to change their way of life. Something that might be an anchor, a touchstone for them for the rest of their lives.”

“Scarlett. I don’t care. The point is, I’m not a serial killer, I’m nothing like a serial killer, and we are not in the same line of work. I am a scientist.”

“I thought you were an inventor.”

“I am. I’m an inventor and a scientist. All the greatest inventors were scientists.”

“Thomas Edison wasn’t.”

“Thomas Edison was a liar and a thief who stole everything he did from Nikola Tesla, among others.”

“Henry Ford—”

“—wasn’t even an inventor. Dear lord, Scarlett, what did they teach you in school?”

Scarlett glared at her. “You went to the same school.”

“Yes, but I didn’t learn anything there. Everything I learned was self-study. I didn’t actually pay attention in class.”

“Then how do you know that what they taught me was wrong?”

Ultraviolet glanced up at her IV bag, which was full, and at the clock, which was stubbornly nowhere near the end of visiting hours. “Get me some books about scientists. Preferably books where scientists are right, and everyone else is wrong, and all the people who are wrong get eaten by dinosaurs, and the scientists get to say ‘I told you so’ and end up very wealthy.”

“That’s… really specific.”

“It doesn’t have to be dinosaurs. The people who are wrong could get eaten by aliens. Or viruses.”

“I don’t even know how I’d find a book like that.”

“You’d ask at the library, you heathen. Don’t you read?”

“Yes!” Scarlett snapped. “I read a lot of things! Among them, romance novels and true crime, which are apparently not intellectual enough for the great Doctor Ultraviolet to want to sully her eyeballs—”

“Scarlett! Secret identity!” Ultraviolet whispered in a loud hiss.

“No one’s paying attention.”

“Captain Cosmic knows he dropped me. I wouldn’t put it past him to be searching the local hospitals.”

Cosmic had been trying to fly her to the Max, the ultra-secure supervillain prison that so far, no one had managed to break out of. Ultraviolet had used her nanobot lubricant on him to force him to drop her, without perhaps fully considering the fact that they were a thousand feet in the air by the time it took effect. With lubricant in his eyes and covering his hands, Cosmic couldn’t even see her to catch her, and when he’d flailed around by accident and grabbed her foot by trying to figure out where the screaming was coming from, he hadn’t been able to hold on. She’d had to use her prototype antigravity device to save herself, and it hadn’t had enough power to prevent her from hitting the ground hard enough to break most of her limbs, several ribs, and possibly her neck.

She’d already been in traction for two days, completely immobilized – chest taped, head in a neck brace, legs mummified and hanging from pulleys on poles attached to her bed, arm in a sling. She was bored out of her mind. The only entertainment the hospital offered was a television, and just hearing the sounds of daytime game shows and soap operas and Judge Jeri made her want to kill everyone in the hospital, or at the very least her immediate neighbors on the ward who wouldn’t stop watching that crap. Actually having to see it herself might make her brain fatally overheat with rage.

So when her sister had called and offered to visit, Ultraviolet had begged her to bring books, to alleviate the horrible boredom. But this… dreck wasn’t worth the name “book”. It was a bound collection of paper, containing letters arranged into words that had been assembled to produce some sort of simulation of syntactical meaning, that was all.

“I think if Captain Cosmic was here, there would be a lot more shrieking, and people begging for his autograph.”

“He has a secret identity too. He could be walking right past us dressed as a nurse and you would never guess.”

Scarlett sighed. “All right. I’m sorry I said it, Violet. But you need to stop acting like, just because you’re a genius, everything you don’t like or don’t approve of is stupid. And you could be a little bit grateful. I drove way out of my way to visit you.”

“I’m sure your conscience would have nagged at you if you hadn’t.”

“I tell you what. I’ll go to the library and get your books about scientists, and I’ll bring them by tomorrow.”

“That would be suitable.”

“And I’ll bring Alan. He’s sixteen, so he’s allowed to visit, and I’m sure he’d be thrilled to see his aunt and explain the plot of Battle Island to you, or Kraftwerk, or one of those other video games he’s obsessed with.”

“No! Scarlett, I’m not interested in listening to your offspring prattle on about whatever degenerate pastime has caught his fancy.”

“And I’m not interesting in helping a bitchy older sister who can’t even say thank you, but I’d feel bad about leaving you here all alone. So I’ll bring Alan to entertain you.” Scarlett smiled widely. “I’ll tell him that you’re feeling cranky because you’re in pain, so he should ignore any rude thing you say to him. Since you’d be incapable of asking him to stop politely, I guess that means Alan’s going to have a captive audience tomorrow.”

“Scarlett!”

“See you tomorrow, sis!” Scarlett caroled, and left the room, leaving Ultraviolet to fume about the unfairness of it all. If only she could get decent henches, she could get someone to transport her to her base, where her rapid regeneration machine could heal her within minutes. But no, the union had blacklisted her, and you couldn’t trust non-union henches. Totally unfair. Every other villain had henches lining up around the block – even the ones who routinely shot their own employees. But you mutate the henchmen into anthropomorphic sharks one time… and now, because of that idiot Captain Cosmic and because of the moronic Henchman’s Union, Scarlett was going to force her to listen to her oldest child ramble on about whatever stupid garbage he was in love with right now.

If she could only reach her crutches, she’d get out of this bed and hobble out of the hospital right now.

[redantsunderneath]

Us (2019) *Spoilers*

Us is the best movie I've seen since Mandy.  I shouldn't oversell it, but it's really rich and basically everything I like movies for.  I’m going to at least refer to major plot spoilers (usually without direct description) so stop reading if you want to stay clean.

Horror seems more direct and out of the box able to get at the concerns I like narrative art to deal with.  The genres kind of promote certain thematic preoccupations, and horror is so diencephalonic that it really is able to go psycho-chrono-geographically extreme (more unconscious, more primordial, more in the woods) with less dithering.  This movie is an example of why all my favorite movies loosely categorize horror (even cheap dumb horror movies seem to work a lot better subliminally than those of other genres).  

For people who don’t care about spoilers and want to follow along, the movie unfolds as follows: A black upper middle class family goes to their vacation house where no-one really wants to be - the daughter is in her phone, the son is withdrawn, the mom actively does not want to be there, and the dad is overcompensating.  They go to Santa Cruz beach where the mom, when she was a kid, saw a girl who looked just like her in a hall or mirrors below the carnival/boardwalk, the trauma stemming from which derives much of the movie’s impetus.  On the beach, they meet their friends, a white family who are the image of superficial aspirational American values.  

One night a full set of their doppelgängers show up in the driveway and a battle for survival begins.  This turns out to be broader with, at least regionally, alters (”the tethered”) showing up everywhere and killing their analogous surface people. The white family falls immediately, sand our guys have to face their alters too.  The family eventually triumphs, but not before the mom descends into the tunnels under the hall of mirrors and faces her alter who reveals a too literal plot and wins.  The family drives away and it is revealed that the mom was (THE SPOILER) the alter all along and what happens is the result of the “real surface mom” jealously yearning for participation in that kind of stuff we do that gives life meaning, including odd self delusions and empty displays... so, like culture in general.

What the movie is really about is how we have within us a shadow of our primal selves, an ancestral image of progenitors who were concerned with drives and survival, and we suppress this so that society can function and we can be free from the knowledge of existential risk. The "absent center" (a la Derrida) of the movie is the culture war in which we are prone to let this shadow (and its instinctual out-group hatred and violence) take more control. We have a complex relationship this repression that involves guilt (we have it better than they did, civilization is theft and genocide, how can I forget this) and tightly bound attraction/fear of giving into the deeper drives - we know it is valuable but we don't want to edge in too far.  

So civilization is an internal tension filled detente that is kind of a lie we tell ourselves, and that situation is slipping a little bit. Presented as the main perturbation is trauma - being forced to see the real of which this shadow is a part, whether the trauma is abuse, encountering too harsh truths as a child, day to day existence in western civilization, self inflicted trauma to confirm to norms, the loss of a way of life, epigenetic shock from slavery, or whatever else.  Being a “realist”, and societal “red pilling,” is depicted as extremely destabilizing and dangerous because the truths discovered when outed may annihilate everything we have been striving for (if that’s worth saving at all). 

Note, this is within the context of not absolute truth but competing ambiguities, or at least an ambivalent set of incommensurable ideas that are all true but are immanently inconsistent. Or, alternately phrased, culture has rejected confronting certain truths for so long that we should be afraid of how a bunch of people who are not nuanced and are not prepared for the knowledge will react, but we really need to understand the real to grapple with the inevitable dissonance (competing ideas of the good) when figuring out a way forward. This movie is not pedantic and is well aware this struggle should not be ignored but the pain of confronting the truth is that it threatens the good in a way that is fucking tough to resolve.

The semiotics of this movie must have taken forever to put together.  There is symbolism everywhere and most symbols have multiple meanings.The main reference points are the 1111, rabbits, and the direct references to other media, but it is drenched in nods to the Americana, slavery, status markers, black cultural touchstones, etc..  

The 1111 recurrence has many reflections, some harder to notice.  11:11 is in the ether as the “time that big shit goes down,” has numerological connections to the divine descending to earth, and has a direct function of representing the individuation/alienation of the family and the way things are “twinned.”  One good example of the way this ties together is, as they walk across the beach, their 4 shadows make the Black Flag symbol (there is recurrence of Black Flag T-shirts to remind us) which is a stylized single (1) flag, furled as to show a staggered arrangement of the 4 band members as individuals - unity in individuality, which the movie questions (also to play into themes of suburban rebellion and “authenticity”). The 1111/11:11 works a lot of ways: to suggest an eschaton of individuality, that there is a moment of great potential and danger, as judgement/revelation foreshadowing (via Jeremiah 11:11 "Therefore thus saith the Lord, Behold, I will bring evil upon them, which they shall not be able to escape; and though they shall cry unto me, I will not hearken unto them."), the twinnings at different levels (we see the Black Flag t most clearly in the chest of one of a set of twins who have their own "twins" 11:11 - the other twin just has on a halter to maximally show off her "twins").

The rabbits are a psychological critique of the id in modernity (this movie is interesting about sex in its color-around-the-picture absence).  In deep psychological tunnels, they are caged and consumed subconsciously, red and bloody, as the current order/superego’s sacrifice to keep things quiet, and set free by the lysis in libidinal excess.  They also abut the slavery imagery as they are caged, utilized instrumentally, and are present not just in tunnels but in something that codes as an underground railroad.  But mostly I think Peele must be a David Lynch fan as Inland Empire informs this use. 

The Twin Peaks references were unexpected.  The first sequence is a descent from the carnival of fake activities that simulate real experience to the “deep place,” past the dweller on the threshold who gives us warning, into the woods with an owl (which isn’t what it seems), and into a veil of curtains through which are the deeper psychological truths where we interrogate inability to cope with trauma as a kind of existential problem - the whole situation as a manifestation of the sickness of the structures that give life meaning.  Also, the protagonist is trapped for a similar length of time, has a doppelgänger that is in a way the real protagonist revealed, and needs to face this part of themselves.

So, we’ll try to hit most of the wide ranging pop-culture references, but things really intertwine. Example: the red smocks evoke several things: 1. Michael Jackson, with glove, specifically Thriller (as on the tee), intentionally picking up on the gaslighting, the trauma, the ties to his own hidden nature, and the fraught nature of cultural affiliation (specifically black - Peele is the one doing the questioning) that perpetrates a cycle of behavior (we’ll get to code switching); 2. Chain gangs/prison uniforms - there are shackles in the movie and "tethered" is the word for the link between people and their alters - which, in the imagination, is just an echo of slavery;  and 3. Michael Myers... the white mask of one of the characters delineates this, but it reminds one of the other as an encounter with the real.  The glove looking like a low res infinity gauntlet will be left as an exercise for the reader.

The Jaws T-shirt fits with the water/boats stuff, evoking the polysemous subliminal other as a threat to out prosperity and illusions about ourselves. Just as in Jaws, the other is a really wide concept and can lend to a lot of different readings focusing on whatever you want to about the modern western world and what we fear/suppress.  All the MJ symbols and the mention of OJ alludes to the fraught identity of being trapped between worlds.  Black Flag and NWA recalls the shakiness of authenticity from opposite sides.  The consistent riffing on The Shinning evokes the sickness in the culture, the family, and the individual as inseparable and leveraged against our forgetting what has happened and who were were before. Hands Across America’s repeated direct referencing instantiates the desire for and society's readiness to provide the lie agreed upon, ambivalence about which is at the heart of the film.  Lost Boys is name checked by location and timing - literally they its filming is there in the flashback part - but also the spectacle hiding our savage natures which we are drawn to but need to control.  The home invasion scene is very A Clockwork Orange, with the eruption of violent life into the modern domestic space set to pointedly inappropriate music. There are tons of less specific movie references each evoking multiple films with similar shadowing - masks, scissors as weapon, the hall of mirrors, carnival as place of trial and trauma, underground as a place to resolve answers, incongruous music and violence,  etc. There is a shot with shelves of VHS tapes all of which have obvious resonances (CHUD, Goonies, the Man with Two Brains, Nightmare on Elm Street) except the Right Stuff which is pointedly there, perhaps as a reminder that man can and will transcend.

Tim Heidecker plays just the kind of character who you'd expect - a clueless smarm who goofily performs the rituals of commodified masculinity while not really seeming masculine at all. His transparency is why he was cast. He is part of a whole family critique of the superficiality of the American dream and how there is rot underneath.  Much of this critique is undercooked and a weak spot of the film as the family’s alters, besides Elizabeth Moss’s narcissism prompted ritual self mutilation, aren’t that worked in. Yeah, the father mimes dad stances, and the kids are interchangeable just like suburban identities (right, commuters?), but that’s it.  There is a lot of deeply implicit racism and distrust of the outsider in the families’ interactions that is much more subtle than “I would have voted for Obama for a third term.” How about “I knew you’d forget the flare gun” (but not the rope or life preservers) which has a lot running through it - ironic racial assumptions, a from the right critique of a political stance valuing safety and security over defense and accepting help, the "making fire” motif involved in beating back the shadow, and the plastic “real man” attitude.

The primary family is black and affluent, and have a connection to black culture that is depicted as at once not entirely real, aspirational, and a kind of cosmic separation.  But (mostly) the really deep connection to these things is "forgotten." Dad’s efforts to code switch when he has to summon something other than performative consumerism comes off as pathetic in the face of the power of the history of survival.  As dad listens and performs involvement of “heritage,” the son asks what “I Got 5 On It” means - dad deflects and the daughter answers “drugs.”  The correct answer is having a stake in the ($) dream whatever rules you have to break to get there.  This rubs (intentionally) uncomfortably against the Michael Jackson and OJ references (and the trapped in the closet pseudo reference) as cultural aspiration is about having to either forget a history of bad things (what the actual text of the things are speaking to) or leave behind the products of that thing (at which point where is your connection to your cultural past).  

The Fuck the Police joke works a bunch of different ways: 1. It’s a pun; 2. it’s an Alexa/Siri not working joke; 3. it brings the specter of technology contributing to faulty society into the space (as does the daughter’s phone); 4. it ironically contrasts with Good Vibrations; 5. it ironically contrasts with the action, the incarcerated kicking the shit out of suburbanites as class revenge; 6. the actual police literally still haven’t shown up after the 911 (is a joke) calls; 7. it expresses our ambivalence to societal strictures; 8. it is at odds with the environment, suggesting the absurdity of the middle class aping authenticity; 9. Ice Cube now makes a lot of fish out of water comedies of hood-coded man trying to fake middle class; 10. I could go on.

The weapons used by the heroes are all affluent symbols, often a costly reclaiming/supplanting/mastering of the primitive with the stuff of the modern - an expensive aluminum bat, a golf club, an outboard motor, and a geode mounted on a stand. The 3 family members win against both their shadows and that of their white counterparts by unifying his modern advances with the primitive impulses. The dad wins by understanding how machinery works and by mastering fire.  The daughter wins because cars > running. The son is really something because he is all about play and tricks and can't make fire, but is really about empathy (or maybe mirror neurons). His alter plays with fire, has burned himself badly, and is scared by technological magic.  So our son makes a spark, and learns to play with the other and thus control him to walk backwards into the alter's own fire.  He learns this trapped in a closet (the second R Kelly sub rosa reference this weekend after Shazam saying "I believe I can fly" before a messy edit) surrounded by board games including Monster Trap and Guess Who?

The twist really opens up what the movie is saying and is perfect Twilight Zone type "both chewy plot gotcha and thematic epiphany.” The twist basically says that the jolt of becoming aware of the real is traumatic and, if it is bad enough and you are susceptible, the state of wokenness requires you to fake it in order to fit into the life you desire but are alienated from, while the part of you that loves life (giving over to a spirit, art, believing in something "true" rather than factual) stays buried ready to erupt with negative effects.  This is a unique take on the subjectivity of trauma, that the bad unacceptable thing that is not supposed to happen that happened to you makes you feel like you are characterized primarily by that bad thing pretending to be the transcendent nature you repressed.  And yet, the movie ends with the Shining helicopter landscape shots of the car driving away, to Hands Across America being re-enacted, our primitive selves being inspired to attempt to recreate the lie of society as a life affirming spectacle.  This rhymes with the mom continuing to play mom as the performance is the reality, is who she really is.

I have left a lot on the table... the boat (that always pulls left) stuff as class critique, the voices the alters have, what each families’ possessions say (especially the wall art and architecture of the houses), the movements of the alters, the coding of the water settings, the idea of the “Carnival” of souls over abandoned tunnels and superficial (cheap and temporary) vs. deep (forgotten) culture, the scissors as a compound metaphor, the mirroring, 100 other media nods (e.g. Home Alone), the general quality of the music cues, the overdetermining alter names from the IMDB page, the Howard and thỏ shirts, the drunk dad, the excessive hinting at common types abuse (using film and real language) but not letting us have that as an organizing reality (as Nightmare on Elm Street does), and other stuff I’m not dredging up.

The movie is not prefect - 1. it commits the cardinal sin of 11th hour exposition to set the literal plot in concrete, which I didn't need and waters down the themes; 2. the white family (other than mom) deserves more specific behavior from their alters, and 3. there is only one real standout acting performance (Lupita Nyong'o, who I didn't "get" until this). But man, this is 1000 x better than Get Out - it's broader and more primal in its concerns with race falling out as just one critique among many.