#is a hole inherently haunted?

[thematicparallel]

happy halloween to this haunted beast ❤️

[dragonseeds]

what are your thoughts on rhaegar and lyanna?

oh i love them! there’s all this talk of them haunting the narrative and they do, but i’d take it further and say they are the black hole at the center of the story. the choices that they made, starting with lyanna’s decision to defend howland reed and what that meant to both him and rhaegar, who was very likely at his lowest point at harrenhal after the ruination of his careful plans, touched or changed the lives of every character and plot line in the series. the story itself is such a fun mashup of tristan and iseult, lancelot and guinevere, helen and paris, the fall of camelot and all of arthuriana really, the classic trope of the princess in the tower and the dragon and the knight: all of that in one couple and we don’t get to experience any of it with them. we can guess and speculate, but we can never truly know them. we experience their story only through the memories the people who survived the war they ostensibly kicked off, and those memories are all heavily colored by trauma, guilt, nostalgia—alternately faded and sharpened by time. it’s this incredibly fun and brilliant reconstruction of some of the most enduring tragedies in folklore and mythology and i adore it.

hate beyond articulation the way asoiaf.tumblr.edu approaches their relationship and the individual characterizations of both of them, though. just absolutely some of the most insufferably sanctimonious disingenuous decontextualized analysis i’ve ever experienced—much of that coming from people viewing this through a historical lense instead of a thematic one. like, imagine approaching the battle of the trident as “rhaegar is a bad person for fighting for his father who was evil! he lost the moral high ground with that one” as opposed to “rhaegar as a character exists to fail and die; he was the last dragon, carrying the unbearable weight of his family’s legacy and the burden of the prophecy for which they conquered westeros: the end of his life is the end of the targaryen dynasty. he must fail and he must die, so that dany and jon can grow up free of that weight and that power. daenerys gets to redefine what it means to be targaryen on her own terms. she and jon separately and unknowingly do the things that he thought he had to do—the things he was conceived and born to do—but never knew how: they do it because of their circumstances, because of the people that they have grown into, because they believe it is their duty, because they have the power to do it.” also, like, re: interpretations of battle of the trident, is there maybe another battle that occurs later in the series that is exactly the same thematically and contextually? where perhaps a character who was missing for a while shows up on the eve of battle, knowing that the opposition is right and their cause is just but that his family will die if he doesn’t fight with them? anything that adds an extra layer of meaning to what happens, aside from dany’s own connection—which is not as thematically similar but is still incredibly meaningful. like i certainly don’t think there’s any one interpretation of a character or story, but the worst ones are consistently applied to rhaegar.

and then with lyanna in particular, it’s like people cannot stomach her or find her sympathetic as a character unless they’re wallowing in her eternal victimhood. the constant dismissal of the importance of lyanna’s actions and what they meant to rhaegar is pure misogyny, by the way. her choices and her agency, the inherent meaningfulness of the struggle for both of those things in a system that seeks to reduce her to her body and the use men can make of it—all of that is important. the person she was and what that meant to people was important, but from the way i most often see her discussed, it’s like her gendered death is the only thing that matters. it’s okay to lament her because she got crushed by the wheel. if she hadn’t, if she wasn’t a victim to write flagellatory meta about, she would be a hypocrite, someone who needed to learn a lesson—as difficult for some of these people to relate to as dany or rhaenyra apparently are.

like, it’s just wild to me because her kindness to howland reed and her choice to defend him, to disguise herself as the knight of the laughing tree and risk her life and reputation to fight for him—is the answer to and the embodiment of one of the most thematically significant questions in the series. we see it most prominently in dany’s chapters because she asks it directly: why do the gods make kings and queens if not to protect the ones who can’t protect themselves? that’s what lyanna did, when no one else was doing it: she had more honor than any knight at that tourney or any man sitting on the small council, and it meant something to rhaegar. like what about this is hard to understand? i think he must have idealized her immediately: she must have seemed like something out of a song or a story to him, and rhaegar was a singer, a songwriter, a bard: he knows how stories are supposed to go—how to finish a song, or at least he thought he did.

bran, who also loves stories, says it himself: “and the mystery knight should win the tourney, defeating every challenger, and name the wolf maid the queen of love and beauty.” like obviously bran has some critiques i cut out, but he has the ending right—only the wolf maid was the knight, and she couldn’t have won. in the feudal gender prison, women are rewarded for being beautiful and their worth is derived from that and from what their bodies provide. she should’ve won the whole thing, but the system doesn’t allow that, so rhaegar—in a fit of single-minded capital r romantic hero idiocy—dedicates himself to winning the tourney to honor her in the only way he can: the only way the system allows him to recognize her. it was the worst possible move he could make at that time because of the romantic connotations, but i love him for doing it, as stupid as it was and even though there is no way it didn’t hurt and humiliate elia, or make him look terrible when he desperately needed to make a good impression on the lords of the realm—it’s just such a Moment. being reminded that there’s good in the world—feeling hope in the face of endless abject overwhelming despair—how do you express gratitude for that? the idea that he could only doing it by hurting someone who didn’t deserve it and making himself look like an ass is fucking awesome. i’m genuinely so sorry for people are incapable of enjoying that. could not be me!

but that’s just my interpretation of what happened at harrenhal. like i said, part of why i like them so much is that we truly don’t know. while i love darker relationships in general, the idea that he crowned her at harrenhal because he wanted to impregnate her then does not work for me. it’s a popular theory, but it renders some of the very few contextual clues we are given about what happened meaningless. for one, he didn’t know that elia wouldn’t be able to have more children at that time. this was discovered after she gave birth to aegon, and that is the point at which the question of the third child appears to have become a motivating factor for him. i personally think he left for the riverlands to consult with the ghost of high heart—the one whose prophecy is the reason he was born, the reason is parents were forced to marry, the reason his family burned alive the night he came into the world—and ran into lyanna somewhere near harrenhal. it’s possible he had been in contact with her prior to this (how? without her family knowing? what are the logistics of that?) but i think it’s just as likely it was pure chance. i really like the idea that his crowning her queen of love and beauty caused lyanna’s father to set a date for her wedding to robert or talk of moving it up, maybe even suggest a double wedding at riverrun, which would have almost certainly caused her to balk. either way, high heart is located between harrenhal and riverrun. arya also stops there while she’s kidnapped by the brotherhood without banners on the way to ransom her to her family at riverrun, and they trade songs to the ghost for her dreams and prophecies. i think it’s worth noting because arya’s journey in the riverlands mirrors lyanna’s right down to her “death” as arya stark when she leaves for braavos, paying the ferryman’s fee with the coin jaqen h’ghar gave her—just as jon’s journey at the wall mirrors rhaegar’s in many ways right up until his own death.

i also don’t think rhaegar and lyanna eloped because they were in love—this is implied by lyanna’s famous quote—but that they did come to love each other deeply, which is suggested by the way they died: her roses and him saying her name. notably, rhaegar did not leave the tower of his own volition—someone had to come and get him with news of war, which is hilarious because i think the tower of joy is right in the middle of like three major battles of the rebellion? like quite frankly, if he didn’t love her or care for anything beyond the prophecy and if she didn’t love him despite how badly things went wrong, then where in their story is the heart in conflict with itself?

i do want to clarify that i love the tower entrapment and the power imbalance aspects of their relationship as much as i love (what i interpret as) the genuine respect for each other that grew into love: it’s really the tension of those disparate elements that interests me. a dragon can love the maiden, but he’s only ever a dragon—still liable to hoard her like treasure or burn her up and rip her open trying to be gentle, to protect. that FUCKS, sorry! love is sweet and hopeful, but it’s also at exactly the same time horror, consumption, destruction.

idk it’s myopic to act like the beginning or the ending of their relationship—of their lives—is the summation of it. i think people want their story to be easy when it’s not: a clear case of a villain and his victims where everyone knows who to root for and no one has to think too much about things that are difficult or uncomfortable, questions where there probably isn’t an answer that doesn’t hurt someone. what a sad, tedious way to approach any text, but specifically this one. i’ve sometimes seen it suggested that if their story is romantic then it’s an endorsement or justification of all the “bad” things that happened because of it, and that’s also stupid. grrm as an author is never going to be someone who tells us how to feel about anything: he presents these characters and situations, often as a means of exploring certain facets of the human condition, and each of us has to come up with our own answers and find our own meaning. i don’t think he always knows what he means, or what those answers are, you know? but for me rhaegar and lyanna are one of the most fascinating parts of story, and whatever the truth is—if we ever find out—i can’t imagine a scenario where i don’t love them or find them really interesting and wonderfully sad.

[deramin2]

Omelas

"The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas"

By Ursula K. Le Guin 1973

This haunting short story is about a city that can be a utopia only if a single child suffers. You will forever be thinking about this story after reading it.

Fun fact, she chose the name from a passing road sign. Salem O (Oregon) spelled backwards. This story is very much grounded in colonized Oregon's long history of utopia projects (that all eventually fizzle out, many after becoming dangerous cults).

"Why Don't We Just Kill The Kid In The Omelas Hole"

By Isabel J. Kim, 2024

Kim tells the story of what happens if the suffering child of Omelas is killed. Outstanding new story that powerfully examines Omelas vs. our world.

"The Ones Who Stay and Fight"

By N. K. Jemisin, 2018

Jemisin's rebuttal to "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas" about a society that achieves utopia through honoring all people as having inherent worth. It asks the reader why that sounds so impossible.

[mollyrolls]

o' city lights; iwaizumi hajime

track 5 / now playing / track 7 : ̗̀➛ weatherman collection

Curls a smile when the sadness hits / Finds my face with fingertips. / Have you seen her / The daughter of the hum of the highway? / She's curling up like smoke.

READ TAGS: gn!reader x iwaizumi, ongoing suicide attempt (not graphic, but obvious), suicidal thoughts, no character death but death depictions, lots of angst, hurt/kinda comfort, self-deprecating thoughts, reader is depressed, not really happy ending but not sad either, not proofread, lmk what i miss.

wc: 1.9k

an: this is not a happy fic. be kind to yourself and don't read if you're not in a good space for it. not really any resolution to suicidal thoughts so please be weary.

Petals fall off flowers every year. It's habitual, it's expected. A momentary sadness for the loss of beauty, one that’s quickly cast aside knowing they’ll come again. But what happens to those petals?

Some of them are lucky. The ones tossed in weddings, pressed in a book, kept in a jar. Those petals were and continue to be loved, remembered with fondness and nostalgia. 

But not all of them. The love-me-nots are neglected, rejections stuffed in trash bins, once thoughtful bouquets left without water to wilt and wither. Those too unlucky to be treasured get picked up by the wind and left somewhere to decompose; dying from the inside out. 

Those petals don’t get to come back.

Petals like you, found near riverbeds, compost bins, or bridges. Waiting for the wind to find you, lightened by the decayed holes in your body to be deposited into the expanse below. 

That’s where you find yourself, exactly like you thought. It's habitual, it’s expected. You come here often, thinking this will be the time you really do it. 

Cars speed past you, below you, making you feel frozen in time. The metal of the guardrails pressed into your back fail to produce any feeling in your body. You sit, and wait.

You choose this bridge for a reason. The city haunts your view, lights in buildings reminding you that there are people out there doing things, meaningful or fun or worthwhile things, while you can’t even commit to committing. The buzz of the highway fills your head, amplifying the feelings of despair settling low in your chest.

There’s nothing inherently different about this time. The traffic is as bad as normal, the people as neglectful as ever. There’s nothing different, yet this time your irrelevance is hitting like a punch to the gut.

Commutes would go on, with the mild inconvenience of the body to clean up the next morning. A headline, a funeral, belongings sent to the government. Turn the calendar page, and you’re gone. Decomposing somewhere, another task to be taken care of. 

And you’re sure there are people who would care. The people you pass by every day, the few friends you’ve kept, maybe your family if you’re lucky. But no one would stay. The momentary sadness for the loss of a life, one that’s quickly cast aside for something more uplifting. 

And that’s what gets to you the most. The temporary. How badly you want to be preserved and remembered with fondness are irrelevant to the whims of the universe, and that’s the reality that comes cooly up your spine.

Your fingers tighten on the guard rail, positioning your body farther out. The hopelessness is all-consuming, quietly smothering your brain in sorrow. No one has stopped to help you yet, which means it’s time. You’ve known it’s time.

Your deep subconscious is begging you to wait just a bit longer, with your fingers digging into the metal painfully or your gut fighting gravity so fiercely that it starts to pile in your throat. 

But the feeling that wins out is the chill of the wind, slicing cleanly through the gaps in your chest and leaving you breathless. It catches you just so, swaying your body forward and back. The rotted petal, clinging onto the stem with everything it’s got.

But it’s not enough, and the wind scoops you up. Your fingers loosen on the guard rail.

Then there’s a voice.

It’s soft, trying not to startle you and send you off. Barely audible over the droning in your ears, but it settles next to you.

“Hey. Can you come back to the sidewalk?”

Logically, it doesn’t make sense. Your position is precarious, intentionally chosen so it would be hard for people to intervene. That’s the excuse you fed yourself, to justify why no one ever came to stop you. 

Except for him. Now.

But still, the truth remains. One move too sudden and you’d be gone for good. There’s no choice but to ignore his request, no matter how badly your chest started burning at the thought.

“Okay.”

You notice the start of scuffles and shifting as you realize what he’s doing. His feet aren’t meant to fit in the gaps, but he manages to navigate towards you, climbing up to stand beside you. The barrier you’re in front of suddenly feels a mile wide, demanding you stay on the path you’ve set.

He leans over it, crossing the gap with no hesitation. The sudden proximity takes up all the oxygen in the night. 

“I’m Hajime.”

You force your gaze down, refusing to look at him. There’s a sudden overwhelming thought that if you start to humanize this man, rather than leaving him as a self-righteous prick who’s doing this for his own ego, then you’ll still be alive tomorrow. A fate you cannot reside to.

You’ve done this song and dance enough times to know that waking up the morning after is worse than the feelings on the bridge. You won't handle that pain anymore.

“Do you have a name?”

It goes quiet for a moment. When you tell him, you even surprise yourself. It sounds too distant, too forgotten. You realize you’re shaking, fingers trembling on the rail. 

“I like it. Suits you.”

Then you sit in silence. Minutes pass, and he stays by your side, watching the cars below pass along.

When you imagined getting talked off the edge, you never imagined it like this. You aren’t prepared. You were ready to let the spiels of how much you have to live for pass right through you, knowing that a form letter wouldn’t do any convincing.

Never would you have considered being treated normally as an option. He’s still speaking gently, but it's not patronizing or pitying. This might as well be any old conversation for Hajime.

“So, I guess you’re not here admiring the view?”

The absurdity of the question makes you laugh. It’s choppy and fleeting, leaving your throat aching, but you laugh all the same. It feels good.

“Yeah, I figured. I didn’t know any other ways to breach the subject though.”

This is what you were waiting for. This is what you’re ready to ignore and avoid. He’ll come up with some impromptu speech about how killing yourself is wrong and you’ll let it roll over you in waves. Things will go back on track.

“I hate this city sometimes. This view in particular; it sucks.”

You can relate. This is the city you’ve always hated, because it hates you. The people, the culture, it snuffs you out, smothering the flame with all of its hypocrisy and pretension. 

This is the city you’re tied to forever, fated to return to every time you try to leave. Only one way to really leave it all behind.

He shifts on his forearms, almost settling in. He’s yet to be broken by the ridiculousness of the situation, chatting with you like old friends in a diner rather than precariously over a 20 foot fall. 

“I moved about a year ago, trying to make something for myself. Got too overwhelmed too quickly, thought about leaving almost every day.”

Once again, this is not what you expected. He’s taking the weight off of you somehow, letting his worries fall to the wind.

“But if I had, I would’ve missed out on a lot more good stuff. The hole-in-the-walls. The quiet enclaves. The parts that make it worth it.”

Hajime doesn’t mind your lack of response. He just keeps talking, sharing his story with you. Slowly chipping away at the concrete prison you face, revealing small bits of beauty you’ve never noticed before.

Something in you shifts, and you turn to look at him while he talks. His voice didn’t betray him, but now you notice the nerves he’s dealing with too. The anxious fingers, the shifting feet. 

You wonder if he’s nervous for you. If he thinks it’s up to him to save you. What would happen if he failed.

But more jarringly, you see the city in his eyes. And for once in your life, the lights don’t drown you. You don't think about everyone out there, you just notice the soft hues that paint his features. The parts that make it worth it.

The change isn’t drastic. It’s not a sudden revelation. It’s a few pencil holes stabbed in the cardboard box you trap yourself in, but it’s enough to get some fresh oxygen. All it took was someone else’s view. A reprise from your mind.

“Sometimes it just takes a different perspective, you know?”

You shift your gaze, finally facing the city lights. A knot forms in your throat. You nod.

“Will you come back now?”

You want to go with him. You try and deny it but the smallest voice in your head reminds you that it's true. You want to stay alive, you want to go another day, you don’t want it to end here. Not like this. You want to be better, feel better.

But there is an aching hollowness in your stomach that makes you useless, unable to reach out for him. No longer dangling in the wind, but cemented in your place. And you can’t communicate that to him.

Right as you’re about to turn back, there’s a desperate please. Shaking and scared and begging you to take it. 

It’s the twist of the knife he stabbed in your lungs when you weren’t looking. You know your plan has failed, yet again.

Because in that moment, you know you’re staying alive tonight.

Your thoughts go blank, a hazy fog enveloping you. You move on autopilot, finding his outstretched hand. You ignore the soft breath of relief he lets out when you do. 

It feels robotic as he helps you back over the barrier, refusing to notice the violent tremble in your legs. It feels alien when you touch back on solid ground. Because you’re not supposed to be here. Not tonight.

There’s nothing like the emptiness that comes after you climb off. Nothing like the feeling of failing yet again. You’re used to it now, failed attempts trailing after you for miles, but it never gets easier.

The shell you fall into isn’t kind enough to feel welcoming.

It’s the shell of you that follows Hajime blindly. To the bus stop, onto the seats, towards the city.

You pass by the bridge you were just at, and can make out the ghost of your soul still standing there. Looking down again, one foot off the edge. 

You watch the ghost of you step, plummeting down to the hidden road below, and the bus is moving again.

It’s quiet.

The tiniest spark of pain lights in your heart.

“Hajime?”

The first words you’ve spoken since giving him your name. They’re hollow and echoey in your head, falling without your permission.

“I should get some help, shouldn’t I.”

He waits a moment, opening and shutting his mouth as he tries to answer the impossible question you’ve posed to him. You don’t register it, eyes unfocused and distant.

“Yeah, I think you should. At least someone else to talk to. Along with me.”

That brings your attention back. It’s not comforting, it feels out of place.

“Along with you. Funny.” Your voice is humorless. “Don’t fool yourself. You’ll forget about me soon enough.”

He laughs at you when you say that. Laughs like the joke you told was quite good. 

“I don’t think I’ll forget someone trying to…”

He pauses. Still treading lightly, like the moment he says one wrong thing you'll go sprinting off, too quick for him to catch you.

“Kill themself?”

You can't stand the pity.

“Yeah. That. It’ll stick around.”

Everything that he does confuses you.

He’s not faking or pretending. He’s not treating you delicately, like you’re some broken damaged thing. He doesn’t say it’s because he cares about you, because he doesn't know you. His words are distant, some might think it unfeeling. But they’re honest and grounded and somehow it’s working for you.

You know his actions tonight won’t magically cure you and send you down the path of righteousness. 

You know there’s a good chance you’ll end up back on that bridge sooner or later.

But his actions tonight also make you want to try. Try to stay alive. Even if it’s fleeting.

“Okay. 

I hope you do.”

[queen0fm0nsterz]

So, if you are accepting any asks, I have a small question.

Who do you think was longer in The Spiral? And which kids were "born" there? Sorry if this is a stupid ask, or if someone already asked it.

Feel free to ignore! I just really like how you analyze and theorize 'bout everything of The Little Nightmares world; you realize things that most people most likely don't notice, and that's admirable to me!

Thank you so much!!! This makes me very happy to hear, I'm very grateful you enjoy my interpretations of the games. Your question is not stupid at all; it's a very good one, and I see there is a few misconceptions about children who are Nowhere born and children who come from other worlds.

I have seen argued that most children we meet must be kids of the Nowhere due to their ability to survive; for example, a child as young as the Toddler was able to survive for at least a while before being snatched away. However this is not an indicator of them actually being Nowhere born.

Noone herself explains how this is possible in episode one of the podcast. Quoting:

"I turned away from the window, which was only a hole in the stone wall of the curved passageway, that stretched on a long ways. This- odd feeling, told me to get up. But I couldn’t stand because the ceiling was so low."

(...)

"That same feeling told me I was lost inside a giant."

They are being guided by this strong instinct. Which explains why children as young as a Toddler can get around without dying near instantly: they inherently seem to know what to do and they are constantly on the move. If anything, children who are stagnant are more likely to be Residents or becoming Residents; they are the odd ones out. Remaining still means certain death, after all, unless you intend to join the Nowhere.

Here's a diagram to show in short who is what based on what we know about the world. The ones with the * are those who are uncertain.

Visitors

These are the most common kind of children one can meet in the Nowhere: the ones brought from outside, either by the Ferryman or from other forces. Remember; the Ferryman is a guide, not the means.

In Episode 3, Noone was pulled into the Mall, an outside force, and in Episode 4 the Ferryman was not present at all. He is not the only way for one to get inside the Nowhere, he's merely somebody with enough power to intercept some of the children coming in to bring them away with him. I don't doubt that his role is incredibly important, as he's the reason why many children even reach the Nowhere alive, but... he's a harbinger of death, no doubt.

All these children are the nameless ones. The ones whose full journeys we'll never get to see: just segments and fractions. We saw the beginning of Noone's, and the end of RCG's and RK's. Nothing more, and nothing less.

The campfire children in particular are highlighted because of two reasons:

The comics were confirmed to be partially not canonical. Obviously not everything was cut from the comics, since the Ferryman and Mirror Man are both physically there and implied to exist, but due to the vague answer we were given, we'll have to take their tales with a grain of salt.

We could only hear two of four stories; as such, only the Humpback Girl's testimony can be counted as her not being a child of the Nowhere. We can attest this because of a few lines given from her friends:

This place is haunted, though, as well as being sealed. Someone locked the mirrors away a long time ago, but! Interestingly enough, they did not break them. Maybe whoever sealed this place away was hoping for someone to come back?

Considering that Low and Alone are also involved with mirrors, I wonder if Mirror Man's abilities are on par with the Ferryman's, meaning he too can cross the bridge between realities. It could be a reason as to why the Ferryman does not intervene until the very end here. This post is not about him though, so moving on!

Nowhere Children/Residents

Now we're getting to the interesting part of the ask. As you can see in the diagram, we only know a few children who are Nowhere born, and of them, only one of them is 100% factual. Let's go through them one by one.

The Pretender was born and raised in the Nowhere. Period. She has her own mansion, pictures with her parents, and on top of that her family at the very least part of the bourgeoisie.

While powers are not necessarily an indicator of one's belonging to the Nowhere (if Low's powers are of any indication), the Pretender herself has quite the number of supernatural abilities that seem to have been present since her youth, making it hard for her to form meaningful connections with others. She's a very lonely child. This means that these powers most likely developed from her naturally rather than being acquired from the outside, like Six's and possibly even Low's.

(Even then, one can make a small argument to counter with Six developing a small power of her own... but there's a reason as to why I set her aside from everyone else.)

Now, here's someone a lot more interesting to discuss (both on this topic and in general): Mono.

He's a real special little guy. Taking into context the etymology of his name, the meanings we get always tie back to the idea of there being one of him. A single, unique little boy. Looking at the descriptions we were given of Mono, we can find out some more about him and his backstory:

Interesting as this is on a character perspective, what I would like to direct your attention on here is the mentions of the world. Here, it's mentioned that Mono is aware that the world outside hates him. Being a single minded child living in the Nowhere this makes a lot of sense; what is interesting here is the wording.

There is never the mention of "another world" in Mono's descriptions, unlike Six's descriptions in which it is directly mentions her not originating from the Nowhere.

For Mono, it's not a world: it's the world. Almost as if there is no other world he knows by now.

His nature is also rather unique. You see, Mono is a glitch. Not in the traditional Glitching Remain way, but still not entire enough to be considered a human being. For one, he quite literally glitches multiple times: we see it happen everytime he is near a Remain and is about to absorb them, whenever he gets too close to the Thin Man, he even glitches as he channels his powers to use them.

The Thin Man causing him to glitch is especially interesting because when he motions to grab him, Mono does not split in two like Six does. There is no body to be left behind: instead, he flies into Thin Man's hand and you can visibly see his body go both entirely glitchy and instantly limp.

(You can see it for yourself in this video; pay attention to him struggling when other enemies grab him vs how quickly he stops moving as soon as the Thin Man gets his hands on him.)

This indicates his nature as not being human the same way Six is, for example, but rather a product of the Nowhere. Due to how his cycle works, this makes sense: for the Tower to have a continuous of energy supply and access to the power of the Transmission, Mono needs to live through this experience over and over for as long they deem fit. This could also explain some other odd factors of his, such as not having to take a break when running and his almost grayish skintone.

While it can be argued that at the beginning of this whole mess Mono was a Visitor rather than a Resident, at this point in time many factors point to the version of him we play as being a Nowhere child.

The Refugee Boy is, as for the campfire kids... complicated to expand on due to the dubious nature of his story: nevertheless, I will still bring forth my evidence.

When the children begin telling Six their stories, the Refugee is the first to narrate his tale and he begins doing so by showing her a memento of his previous life outside of the Maw. This comes across as being peculiar on its own as no other child that we know of has anything of the like.

As you can read here, children in his village are given charm against the North Wind that one day suddenly stop working. This implies that, unlike the Mirror Man, the North Wind has always been a tangible threat looming over their birth land.

It could be easy to chalk this up to N.W. being a local legend where the boy used to live and he had a nightmare about him, but it is then mentioned that he and his sister have been running away from him for years. Much longer than any of the dreams Noone ever had.

This was a long pursuit. We know thanks to the LN III trailer that "normal" looking adults and cities existed in the Nowhere; this explains away both the Refugee's village existing and the other groups of people that chased them away when they brought around the North Wind.

While this evidence is good enough to stand on its own, it has a couple of points against it, which is why I marked the Refugee as "unsure".

The narrator could be considered unreliable. In this same screenshot I added right above, the narrator states that the siblings were welcomed everywhere, but we can visibly see them be chased away by the villagers. This can be interpreted as meaning "they were originally welcomed, but when the North Wind arrived as a consequence, they were chased off", but we don't have enough substance to back this up.

^ Supporting the above take, the narrator also says that the children have been running for years, but we visibly see that they remain the same during all this time. The sister not changing makes sense as the Ferryman has taken her place, but the Refugee also doesn't change at all. We don't know how fast time passes in the Nowhere, so it could also be attributed to that, but it must be mentioned for fairness' sake.

The Refugee's words: I'm not running anymore. This sentiment has never been echoed before, nor will it ever be echoed again. As I said earlier, being stale in the Nowhere only leads to two things: death or permanence. His surrendering could indicate that he has chose to remain in the Nowhere after being stuck in it for a long time, thus becoming an official Resident. If this is the case, he could classify as a "Visitor turned Resident".

With this, I suggest we move on to our last and currently final segment:

Visitors turned Residents

This one is an interesting breed. We don't get to see the act of a child turning into a permanent part of the Nowhere all that often; Noone could count as that, but we don't yet know if she ultimately decides to be still in the Nowhere or if she'll regret her choice.

We do have the most importantly character of this narrative as an example to this, however.

Six, my dearly beloved... what a terrible path she's gone down to. I have already displayed the evidence stating that Six is from a different world than the Nowhere up un Mono's section so I won't dwell on it.

Thin Man splitting her in two is what doomed her and, as hard as she tried to fight it, her trip to the Maw was the nail in the coffin. No matter how far away from it she gets: she will never be free from the influence it had on her person. When it comes to the LN I ending, this is what the writers had to say on it:

(From this interview. It's an interesting one; they also confirm that the Signal Tower and the Maw were not places that were "built" but that exist for various reasons, which supports the idea that they are entities rather than buildings.)

I think Six is not leaving the Nowhere anytime soon. If at all. She might have left the Maw, but at this point, she's ventured too far in to turn back to the person she was before. To think none of this is even her fault is saddening, to say the least, but horrifically realistic.

Sisi... is an incognita. I've only put her in this category to be fair, since we don't know anything about her. There is a possibility that she has grown up to become a Resident, but it's just as likely that she may have died off somewhere, like many others before and after her.

I will not be dwelling into the adults for now, but we do have reason to believe that some of them are most definitely Visitors turned Residents. Most notable is the Lady who, in her character description, directly expresses discomfort with how nonsensical the Nowhere is － a sentiment only someone who knows alternatives to it can have.

It also indicates a surprising level of self awareness to some extent; most Nowhere inhabitants do not question the nature of their world, not even important and powerful beings like, say, the Thin Man.

I hope this answers your question!

[katy-133]

The thing that gets me about the Engineer Tunnel Lady is that, if it was 100% fake and greenscreening, it would be one of the most interesting analogue/ARG horror series I've ever heard of. And there's been some heavy competition with THHPII, Welcome Home, and the recent Angel Hare.

The premise of a woman who just decides to take up DIY engineering because she suddenly has an unexplained, fierce desire to tunnel, and then proceeds to dig a subterranean system of tunnels underneath her suburban house that Nancy Drew would be proud of. She decides to record and document her progress and post it online, explaining how we, the audience, are able to follow her slow decent into the darkness. It makes me think of early internet unfiction YouTube webseries like Lonelygirl15.

The "surreal happenings in suburbia" vibes. The inherent horror of tunnels and the dark (ie, that one episode of The Magnus Archives). The horror of watching someone who is not trained in handling engineering equipment is seen using a bunch of powerful tools on her own (similar to AlanTutorial). The fear of the unknown as she tries to figure out how to problem-solve around the water flooding in. The mystery of why she's even doing this. Watching the progress of the tunnel getting so big that she needs a mining cart and then an elevator. Finding the remains of what looks like castle building stones buried below. The random subplot of finding out one of the guest rooms in her house might be haunted. A bit unbelievable, but it's a horror webseries, so you roll with it.

But then we find out that this is actually real and this TikTok user has reportedly been digging tunnels underneath her house independently. This changes the entire context of the situation. Because now her fans who were invested with the story are left wondering just how dangerous and irresponsible the project is. Did her neighbours know about the project? What if she caused the power to go out in her block? What if she creates a sinkhole? Is this safe?

When it's unfiction, your willing suspension of disbelief lets you get to partake in the story without worrying about certain elements beyond plot holes and thematic strength. The author is pretending to tell you something true and you're pretending to believe it. That's the fun of unfiction. It's trying to be grounded in reality with a magical realism element. It's why we can like fictional characters we know we wouldn't like if they were real. Now with the tunnel project being confirmed as real, it's become a moral situation.

[somethingmissingthiswaycomes]

Just watched the Barbie Movie.

Initial thoughts.

It is very good.

It is also....

haunted

by the lack of anything even... remotely queer.

It doesn't feel queerphobic, and the presence of a trans actress gives me the sense that it wasn't made with exclusion of trans men (Kens) and women (Barbies) in mind — and every statement they make about patriarchy is pretty spot on — but the heavy focus on gender inherent to the premise makes the exclusion of at least a mainstream "third gender" notion of nonbinary people feel very loud.

When it got to the Ken war, I was getting the same feeling I remembered from watching "Boys V Girls" cartoons as a kid. The kinda... "oh no, I'm being asked to split myself in twaine and fight" feeling as a multigender person.

The hard line drawn between Barbies and Kens, uh...

The Barbie Movie made me feel dysphoric lmao

Good movie tho.

And if Allan was supposed to represent nonbinary people, that... would be... not good. He's great and my favorite but also his request to he included in the narrative was a joke so I'm just gonna assume no one was trying to make him a metaphor for nonbinary people.

Oh and it was also

Extremely heterosexual.

The Barbies are totally all aromantic, but I think that's incidental. They could have been such good aro rep if the movie made just... any reference to aromanticism. :c

And... Yeah, the... The lack of any reference to possible gay Kens or Barbies was, again, very loud. Super loud. Especially during the setup to the Ken war. It was so extremely straight, moreso due to the premise of the film than a lot of media that doesn't have gay people either.

It was very good though. Like, everything included was amazing. It was funny and cartoonish and the plasticity of everything was great. I loved the surreal, on the nose way all the characters acted. It just excluded certain things in a way that felt like a big, gaping hole screaming to be noticed, which fascinates me.

[explosionshark]

Your turn!

It's halfway through the year! Got any favorite albums/books/tv shows/whatever to recommend?

thanks to you @badwolfwho1 who both asked me!

music:

right off the top i'm gonna recommend 3 pop albums bc i almost never have this many TO recommend. but tei shi's valerie, empress of's for your consideration, and shygirl's club shy EP have all been on constant repeat for me this year.

big year for metal also - in particular crypt sermon, job for a cowboy, darkest hour, gatecreeper, aborted and tzompantli were all incredible. i feel like between seeing them live and the release of cure, this is the first time erra has really clicked for me and i'm loving it.

for post-hardcore i've loved the debut LPs by with sails aheads and your ghost in glass. the EP lonely people by love rarely was on repeat for me for weeks also - really great stuff.

i got heaven by mannequin pussy slaps too. and i also really, really want to recommend you could do it tonight by couch slut - if you love the queasy, depraved noise that chat pile make, you absolutely should be listening to couch slut.

i threw a couple little playlists together to roundup some of my faves:

(extended version here)

honorable mention: as was really apparent from my charts this year, i spent A LOT of time listening to the saosin s/t again. but also got really back into grouper this year - especially her 2021 album shade, which i missed entirely when it came out.

books:

okay for music i focused mostly on 2024 releases but for books i won't be so strict.

shirley jackson: a rather haunted life by ruth franklin was REALLY good and provided a lot of great insight into jackson's work and also just had some really interesting history in it. really enjoyed it.

hit so hard by patty schemel a rock music and addiction memoir by the drummer of Hole. very dark and upsetting at points, but compelling. was very illuminating re: the 90s seattle music scene and the drug culture around it, provided a lot of context and detail to some stuff i thought i already knew about. really great stuff.

penance by eliza clark - this is a fake true crime book that REALLY got under my skin. it's a meta commentary on true crime as a fandom and an industry and the exploitation inherent in it. it's a mirror to make you stare at your own internal biases. it's SO fucking 2014 tumblr. i've gotten like three other people to read it and they all went insane like me. highly recommended.

hex by thomas olde heuvelt - very late to the party on this one but i loved it. translated AND localized from dutch, with very interesting results. almost goofy to start and ends up totally bleak. i adored it.

magic for beginners and white cat, black dog by kelly link - REALLY falling in love with kelly link this year. read these two and currently re-reading stranger things happen and i just adore her style. weird but SO heartfelt, surreal and dreamy, as often horrifying as it is sweet. she's so talented, i'm really excited to read the book of love later this year.

between two fires by christopher buehlman - FINALLY read this and i loved it. absolutely deserves the hype. kinda wild that dark ages horror isn't more of a thing? i re-read buehlman's the blacktongue thief too and really loved it, definitely cemented it as one of my favorite fantasy books. i'm reading the daughters' war now and enjoying it a lot.

i also re-read the golden enclaves by naomi novik and had such a great time with it.

tv shows:

finished my buffy re-watch! been watching a ton of xena with @holdsteady and @nataliving this year too - we just finished s3 and it was insane and i loved it soooo much.

i watched under the bridge and thought it was very good, but i'd recommend people learn a little about the real reena virk case before engaging.

hacks season 3 was INSANE it made me crazy i loved it so much.

haven't watched much tv aside from that!

[miswaken]

would also just like to say that I obviously love alice as a character, and I very much do not think she is an inherently bad / manipulative / abusive person — which is unfortunately a take I see pop up in the tags from time to time. yes, lying to alan to get him to bright falls for therapy was wrong of her and she knows that. but I think it’s important to remember that the first game takes place after years of alan being a depressed, self-destructive, and occasionally violent (not with alice of course but still) addict. that doesn’t make what she did right, but she’s human and flawed and was very likely at the end of her rope. the bright falls ballad section of herald of darkness flat out says that alice was drowning under the weight of alan’s worst traits and if he’d noticed and addressed it himself maybe this never would’ve happened. the song also says the trip was the last shot at saving their marriage. things were bad! and I think it’s deeply unfair to pin all of it on her like she was some evil uncaring wife who just wanted to institutionalize him and be done with it. and honestly I think it’s also a bad read to assume that she didn’t try to get him help in less direct ways before that, which he probably refused?

similarly, I have to assume she tried other things before the “make him think I’m dead so he hits rock bottom and finally accepts the worst of himself” plan. there’s six years between when the hauntings start and when alice jumps into the lake. you really think she didn’t exhaust all other ideas before that? based on barry’s emails she jumps sometime in the spring of 2023 and the game takes place in september. so again that’s a couple months of attempts before we see the game loop, and considering dark place time isn’t real that’s gods know how many loops of trial and error before we get to these ones that finally work. I don’t think there’s any reason to believe that the fakeout suicide was her first and only method of guiding alan.

I could write an essay about the “voyeuristic and manipulative” (ty sam lake for using the words I’ve been using lol) nature of alice’s role in the story and how it reflects the very nature of her artistic medium itself. and I do think there’s an element of her being desensitized to the Horrors a bit and she’s definitely tunnel visioned trying to get this right. but again, this is last ditch desperation at play. she’s navigating these horrible life situations and literal nightmare scenarios as best she can while trying to drag alan out of his hole at the same time. and while her handling of it all might not be perfect she is a haunted woman with problems of her own who is simply trying her best!!

[ghost-proofbaby]

WIP word game

rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

this game literally had me bouncing in my seat!!! thank you so much to @the-unforgivenn and @hellfire--cult for the tags!!! i'm gonna knock both out on the same post here (also both your words are delicious)

my words are: BITE and PRESSURE

possible spoilers for so mordor it is, so scarlet (it was maroon), and the moon will sing (i loved you like the sun) below the read more <3

also for this game, i'm not entirely sure who's already been tagged and who hasn't, so i'm just gonna tag anyone i think would enjoy this! also tagging up here so there's no pressure to scroll all the way through my snippets if you don't want to haha

no pressure tags: @corroded-hellfire @jo-harrington @andvys @take-everything-you-can @littlesubbyflower @eddiesxangel and honestly anyone else who wants to take a go at this!! <3

your word (if you wanna join) is: HAUNT.

But the girl deserves her honesty, and so she whispers, “I thought it was just PTSD.” 

Something about it is easy – there’s a relief when the whispers of truth trickle a bit louder, rising until Willow finally pours out everything that only one other person could possibly understand. Steve wouldn’t understand, Robin couldn’t possibly understand, Eddie would only try desperately to understand – but Max? Max gets it. Max doesn’t look at her like she’s crazy when words fall from her lips about the nightmares, sparing as many details as possible while still communicating the point.

...

“I don’t understand why the front cover of some stupid ass magazine is so important,” Eddie grumbles as he follows you now, both of you deciding to stand and not yet sit in the empty chairs on the closest side of what must be Matt’s massive desk, “The tabloids run rumors about my dating life all the time-”

“Exactly.”

...

There’s no more quick remarks for her to add. With his unnecessary permission and subtle reassurance of his protection, she’s taking off around the wall of shrubbery, heart pounding out of her chest. 

I don’t have my weapons.

...

Even after all that the two of you have been through, you can’t resist that inherent urge to protect him. 

You can’t quiet the voice that whispers that you still care for him, and you still want to be there for him, even at your own destruction. 

Paler knuckles, tightening fist. The invisible leash is practically choking Wyll now.

...

Really, after Astarion’s feasting on her, she may be more magic than blood at this moment.

And that magic serves as a security blanket, a layer of armor to hopefully replace all the physical leather she’s left behind on the beach, as she hears the sound of an unfamiliar woman in camp.

...

Eddie had kept you a secret. 

Especially now that I know the truth.

Or spun you into a blatant lie. You don’t know which one is worse.

...

She’d tore her way through the process of grief in record time. She’d clawed herself out of those depths in order to be there for her mom, to return to being a daughter worthy of having survived that night with Parker. Nightmares, the gnawing hole in her chest, the way she still couldn’t meet her mom’s gaze when Parker became a topic of conversation – that was just residual shock waves. They would pass one day. These symptoms would pass one day. She had been so sure of it. 

...

She knows somewhere in the shadows, Astarion’s daggers have been drawn. 

“You’ve caused quite the commotion amongst gods and devils alike, if I’ve heard correctly from the whispers of the Hells.”

Time stops. Aruna’s blood freezes. All the magic dies beneath her skin, right along with the air in her lungs.

...

Until the space behind your eyes aches. “The headline went viral online, right?”

“Yeah,” guilt seeps into Matt’s words, “It did.” 

“Have they figured out who I am?” 

...

“Room. Now.” 

Of course, you don’t. 

The game was never one-sided. It was never you, a merciful victim of Astarion, always trapped in his shadows. It’s a game for two – and you’ve earned your blame in it all, the same as Astarion. 

...

Eddie scoffs as he shifts uncomfortably, “Maybe I’m just inspired.” 

“I’m sure you are,” Matt readily agrees, “By her.” 

what have we learned, you ask? that i do not like starting sentences with the letter R, apparently.

[bitterkarmaa]

Ok so sorry! Its my first time on Tumblr!

13: Eclipse is a part of the Kill Code from Moon and Idk how you see it, but the influence from this and also the pressure from the Star could become quite difficult sometimes. Moon should know the problem of keeping the balance or upper hand.

No worries!! It took me a while to figure it all out too :) welcome to hell!!

“When is this going to get easier?”

-Moon & Eclipse-

Eclipse told himself many lies. He knew some of the deceptions he fed himself were merely made for comfort, considered a coping mechanism to those more emotionally intelligent than he was. Lunar mentioned it offhand a few times, and Sun gave him looks that suggested his own agreement, but he never truly took those words into serious consideration. It felt burdening, to mull over the extent of his life and all that he’s done over the course of it. It reminded him of things he tires himself trying to avoid.

But sometimes, he gets caught up in those thoughts. Those aching reminders that float from one side of his head to another, always able to find the right spot to take all his focus at the worst time possible. Certain days, those sometimes become all times, constantly battling against him as he struggles to keep his composure against the incessant plague that haunts his mind. It’s utterly exhausting.

On those days, Moon always manages to find him somehow. May it be by chance or badly hidden worried intent, Moon always finds him.

Today is a bad day. A day filled with memories and reminders that sting at every wound he’s ever had, the ache in his chest becoming worse the more he lays, his own mind threatening to consume him.

Blood Moon isn’t here, currently, having gotten Eclipse’s word that he would still be there when they returned from their hunt. At first, he thought nothing of it- Blood Moon had their own things to do, he understood that. Respected it, even. However, once his head managed to get it’s grubby hands on whatever coherence he had, he instantly regretted letting them go.

And now, here he lays: under the blankets, trembling so much that the mere thought of standing makes him dizzy and nauseous. Despite his inherent weakness, his claws clutch vainly at the bed sheets, grasping so hard that they run holes into the fabric.

Oh, how his mind drags him on, teaching him the steps to a dance he already knows, but loathes all the same.

“KC!”

Eclipse stiffens for the hundredth time today, eyes growing wider the deeper he falls into the memory.

“KC! YOU CAN’T LET THEM DO THIS!!”

His systems begin to overheat, vents coming in quick, short intervals that do nothing to prevent his impending panic.

“IT WASN’T MY FAULT!”

He doesn’t hear the door click softly open, doesn’t hear the footsteps that approach him.

“Let him go.”

A hand reaches out to him, hesitating to touch his shaking shoulder.

“LET HIM GO!”

Eclipse jolts backwards, his hand flying up to grasp Moon’s wrist even so. The tips of his claws dig into the soft sleeves of Moon’s outfit, cutting holes into the pristine fabric.

“Eclipse! It’s just me!” Moon shouts, taking a step back after Eclipse registers who it is and that he doesn’t intend to bring any harm, thusly releasing Moon in the process. He shifts further out of Moon’s reach, pressing his back to the wall his bed sits against as Moon gives him a cautious glare.

“What’s your problem?” He snaps after a moment of pause, earning a tired look from Eclipse that almost makes Moon pity him.

“Nothing. Leave.” Eclipse retorts almost immediately, his gaze sharpening into a glare as he forces the exhaustion out of his expression. Moon looks dubious.

“You…can talk to me, you know. I won’t think any less of you, or whatever.”

Moon’s words strike a chord within Eclipse that seems to steal all the words from his mouth, since, for the next few moments, all he can do is stare. It makes no sense. How could he be so careless with his concern? Hasn’t Eclipse hurt him enough?

“Didn’t I tell you to leave?” He says instead, forcing down the nicer reply that festers in his voice box like an open wound. He can tell that his reaction only makes Moon more interested, red eyes focused on Eclipse’s own expression, waiting for the slightest shift or change, like a predator seeking weakness from it’s prey. Eclipse loathed that look. Especially when it was directed at him.

“Yes. And I’m choosing not to listen.” Moon responds in the most curt, sly way possible. Eclipse opens his mouth to change his demand into a threat, but he freezes as Moon steps further into the room, sitting quietly on the edge of the bed.

Eclipse grits his teeth. Why does Moon insist upon testing his patience like this? Doesn’t he understand how hard it is for Eclipse to control his temper? He’s not making his whole ‘redemption’ any easier.

“You have that thinking look on your face.”

Eclipse lifts his gaze, narrowing his eyes at Moon’s statement.

“Maybe because I’m thinking.” He snaps back, shifting further away from the other animatronic. Moon tilts his head the slightest bit.

“About?” He prompts, earning a snarl from Eclipse.

“What is it with you and getting into my business?”

Moon doesn’t seem as intimidated as Eclipse hoped he would be by the former-villains biting tone. Instead, Moon moves closer, agitating Eclipse the moment be begins to stir.

“Get out! Leave me alone! Don’t you know that-“

Eclipse’s words fall short, dying in his voice box with a soft crackle. Moon’s hand rests softly on top of Eclipse’s own- a gentle touch that, for some reason, breaks some of Eclipse’s walls down. He finds himself struggling to find another demand amongst the rubble his anger leaves behind.

“I may not be all that great with emotions and such, but I can tell you’re distressed. I have been told I play a good therapist, so…lay it on me, if you wish.”

Eclipse stares dumbly at him, at a complete loss for words as he analyses Moon’s expression, looking for any hint of mockery. When he sees nothing but sympathy, he finds himself beginning to tear up, of all things, in front of Moon.

“What are you doing? Why are you doing this?” He croaks, reminiscent of a time when he’d been in denial that Moon decided to save him. When the younger animatronic let him lean into the warmth his body no longer produced- when he felt that flicker of safety in the arms of someone he used to consider an enemy.

“It’s alright, Eclipse. It’s okay. I won’t let them hurt you again.”

He breaks down. Before Moon can supply an answer, Eclipse grabs him and pulls him into a hug, sobbing openly into his shoulder as Moon sits in stunned silence, wondering how to comfort him- if he should comfort him, or if he needed these tears to heal something much deeper than he ever could with his words alone.

The words stick like glue to Eclipse’s psyche, the comforting tone of the beast playing on repeat in his head.

But Moon would never know that tone. He only knows the sinister, devilish grin painted on the face of a murderer he thinks has only been seen in his head. What would he do if he knew that KC had a body of its own?

Would he go after it?

The thought only makes him cry harder, gritting his teeth together in an effort to stifle his sobs.

“When is this going to get easier?” Eclipse finds himself asking, shaking hands curling into the fabric of Moon’s shirt. The other animatronic stays silent for a moment, still stunned by Eclipse’s display of vulnerability, though he finds his voice before the situation can further escalate.

“When is what going to get easier?” Moon asks, voice quiet- subdued.

“This! All of this! The emotions, the self-hatred, the constant contradictions that bite back at me for every thought I have- just…just all of it!” Eclipse finds himself saying, words spilling from his mouth before he can even think to stop them. His despair morphs into a familiar type of anger that forces his hands to release Moon, pulling away in favor of vigorously wiping the tears from his face.

Stupid, stupid, stupid…he must think so lowly of you now- all these tears, this sadness, a useless venture in front of others! The judgement will be well earned!

“…..I’ve found that it doesn’t really get easier, Eclipse.”

Moon’s reply lacks the disgust that Eclipse expected to hear behind his words, slowly lifting his gaze to focus back on the night-themed jester at his side. His expression is conflicted- not with disdain or frustration, but with empathy and respect. It’s as if this show of emotion from Eclipse offered Moon a different perspective on the other that he hadn’t quite considered before.

The thought brings a slight bit of confusion to Eclipse’s face.

“But…all these changes since you first started to work towards being better…it shows that you’re trying. Personally, I think you’ve really improved since then. Those contradictions and self-hatred show that you regret what you did before. Which means you’re better. Being emotional comes with change, and this is a big change for you. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m…” Moon pauses at that, carefully contemplating before carrying on; “I’m sorry that your mind is retaliating in a way that hurts you. You don’t deserve that. But…you aren’t alone. I find myself lost in the same concepts that you’re struggling with- maybe even for the same reasons, as well. I used to have the same sort of ideals that you did, and it was a long and hard process of breaking those habits. Some of them are still there to this day. Even so, I’ve found that the one true consolation that I have changed is that…people love me. The others listen- they care about what I have to say. Just like I’m sitting here listening to you. You have changed, Eclipse. Your mind may tell you differently, but…it knows you in a different way than I do. You view yourself differently than everyone else does. I’m not saying that you should try and change the way you see yourself, I’m just saying that…it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Eclipse listens in silence, his entire body stiff as a statue. He keeps thinking that Moon will stop and shrug off what he’s saying- make some crude remark to lighten the mood in the darkest way possible, but…he doesn’t. Instead, he just keeps going. With each added word, the tension in his chest eases more.

By the end of Moon’s speech, Eclipse finds himself almost smiling again. The slightest upturn to his mouth, carrying a whisper of hope that doesn’t quite play in his voice box, but touches his core nonetheless.

And, for the first time all day, his mind is at ease. No stretch of gratitude that he could offer would truly encompass the relief he feels at that realization.

“You know…I’d almost assume you think fondly of me after all that.” Eclipse jests, earning a soft, sarcastic sounding chuckle from Moon. But Eclipse can tell it isn’t quite fake- the amusement in Moon’s eyes proves that so.

“Don’t push your luck.” Moon drawls.

When Blood Moon does return later in the day, apologizing profusely for taking as long as they did, they find both Moon and their dad curled up against one another, sleeping soundly in the comfortable silence of the room. The twins can’t help the small, fond smile that rises onto their face as they clamber up onto the bed themselves, snuggling up against Eclipse, stirring their father the slightest bit in doing so.

It doesn’t take long for him to fall back asleep, however, one arm draped over his sons while the other is held captive by Moon’s grip.

[invisiblerambler]

I want to write an entire treatise on what the bear means to me and the way it has allowed me to explore my relationship with ambition and the fact that I was Carmy wanting to leave my hometown and never return. It has helped me heal my relationship to my hometown and the Midwest and the layers of complexity that those relationships still contain for me.

People think I am insane when I say this show is soothing to me, but it is. It's cathartic and soothing and gives language to a wide range of experiences I wondered if I could ever explain much less put them as eloquently as this show did and does.

This show makes me never want to write another word, while also making a TV show that is a love letter to what this show does in so many ways.

It won't be about chefs or cooking, or fine dining, but it will be set in the Midwest, and deal with grief and trauma and loving a place that hated you, and hating the place you can never escape.

Few other shows have felt as if they sit underneath a layer of my skin. This show does. Carmy and Syd and all of their mistakes and flaws and everything else feel painfully reflective sometimes.

The confrontation between Chef and Carmy, I sobbed watching it. Because I too, whether I like it or not feel driven some days by a person who undoubtedly doesn't think about me, but sent me off in our last interaction with a comment that haunts me.

The confrontation is never cathartic, it isn't closure, you will never get what you want from it, but shaking that feeling that you have something to prove to any person other than yourself, that runs deep.

I am currently and have been crawling out of that hole going on eight years now. Recently is one of the first times I feel the most in-control of that feeling I ever have.

I sincerely hope one day I can meet Chris Storer in a professional context and tell him how much this show means to me. I won't be the first person or the last, but it among a handful of other TV is why I want to do this so bad. Despite all the odds and the in some ways utter stupidity of wanting to try to do this... when art like this that somehow manages to be successful in a medium that is inherently commercial, it just fucking is the only thing I want to dedicate my time to.

There was a few years where I tried to convince myself I would be fine doing something else. Anything else, because entertainment is clearly insane, but unfortunately it seems like this is what I was born to do and the only thing I'm any good at.

Which when Mikey says that about Carmy knowing what he wants and being great at it, that one got me right between the fucking eyes.

Anyways thanks for reading my half coherent diatribe about this show and how stupidly meaningful it is to me. I love being on this hellsite to discourse about something that means so much.

[happytaffeta]

Don't wanna reblog with deraily thoughts that aren't particularly related to the main point, but earlier this evening I saw a post float by that was about goodness in fiction, differing authorial and audience philosophies, and how cynical worldviews can affect the reading of texts that completely gloss over any hopeful or encouraging messages in favor of the grim ones. And I realized, I think that happens in real life too. I think it happens person to person. I am not perfect, and I make mistakes, and sometimes I'm kind of a jerk, and once I even very publicly did a bit of accidental racism* and dug myself into quite a nasty hole before I stopped and reflected and realized I had, in fact, done extremely poorly. But I make an effort to improve. I try to make myself a better person by learning new stuff and thinking about and evaluating what I learn to find the things that are important to me and understand why and how they are important. I try to minimize how much hurt I cause and I try to do at least a little bit of good in the world, even if some days that's only making sure my cat is properly cared for and my little garden sufficiently watered. And I think, I hope, in general, I do okay at that. I hope that I do and am, basically, good. I think most people are, basically, trying to be and do good. But also a lot of people are pretty full of hurt. I'm one of them. And I think that sometimes we hurt each other because we expect to be hurt. I have definitely had people that I counted as friends, that I felt I had a decent rapport with, look for the bad in me so hard that they ended up manufacturing bad that wasn't even actually there. I have definitely messed up in my life. But I have had people end friendships with me by hurling accusations and entire timelines of stuff that never happened at me, and I sort of think they really believed their own fabricated string of events. The worst part of all that, right now, is that I think there's one or two people I might have done this sort of thing to in my youth as well, and that's a pretty upsetting thought. I'm trying to be kind to past me though. That guy was an idiot, but she was working with the info they had on hand. And sometimes the info wasn't complete, or was plain wrong. Be kind to yourselves, everyone. And whenever practical, be kind to each other. There's so much goodness in people, and yeah sometimes there's bad too. But if we try to be good to each other, when we can, maybe when we can will get bigger, and when we can't will get smaller. And even if that doesn't happen, I think it's still worth doing. I think that being kind, being and doing good, even if it's not very big good, is still important. This got a bit long. It's pretty late here and I haven't been feeling super great the last few days. I think I'm going to bed, if my executives will deign to function for a couple more minutes.

*this incident still routinely haunts me and I feel extremely gross about it whenever it drifts back into my mind. I do not actively think of various groups of people as inherently better or worse, if I do catch myself starting to think these sorts of things these days I make an effort to course correct, and I think that the fact that we as a species have so many variation in features, language, and culture is extremely cool in general, but I'm sure I have biases I'm not aware of and I am working on adjusting them, but man, did I do a shit job that one time. I've done smaller scale shit jobs in the past and those bother me too, but this one was just so very public, which means a lot of people may have seen it, which ups the number of people I may have hurt with that fuckup.

[erabundus]

anonymous &&. said... You are a child of Eternity, dear Wanderer. But that makes you no less a child of the Earth.

❝  ...  ❞   the  words  are  so  kind;  his  first  impulse  is  to  REJECT  THEM.  like  retracting  his  hand  from  a  flame,  the  warmth  they  hold  is  too  much  to  bear.  it  isn't  anything  personal.  he  oft  finds  himself  haunted  by  the  sense  that  he  doesn't  deserve  to  be  COMFORTED  —  although  the  specific  reason  why  has  gradually  changed  over  the  years.  where  once  he  thought  himself  a  weapon  (  only  fit  for  violence  )  then  later  a  god,  now  ren  sees  only  a  creature  defined  by  his  sins.  though it  matters  not  what  title  he  wears;  the  end  result  is  always  ultimately the  same.  gentleness,  acceptance,  empathy  melting  in  his  mouth  like  sugar  —  sickeningly  sweet,  unpleasant  and  artificial. he has to STRUGGLE to accept it even from those he knows speak honestly.

❝  you're  wrong.  ❞  ren  says  aloud  —  though  his  logic  isn't  entirely  driven  by  those  aforementioned  reservations.  (  they  would  remain  regardless  of  the  context.  )  the  wanderer's  head  tips  back,  lavender  gaze  tracing  the  forest  around  him.  birds  weave  their  song  from  high  upon  the  branches.  flowers  dance  in  the  breeze.  his  eyes  settle  on  a  tiny  sapling,  fighting  its  way  out  of  the  damp  soil.  it  will  grow,  he  thinks.  it  will  grow  until  it  is  just  as  tall  as  the  mighty  trees  that  surround  it.  it  will  grow  until  its  branches  touch  the  sky,  becoming  a  home  to  countless  generations  of  fauna  that  seek  comfort  within  its  verdant  leaves.  and  then  it  will  die  —  becoming  a  hollowed  husk  of  its  former  self,  until  it  inevitably  rots  away  into  nothingness.  such  is  the  nature  of  ALL THINGS  in  this  world.  the  humans  that  live  within  it.  the  deities  that  erode  away  like  helpless  stones  tossed  by  the  ocean's  merciless  waves.  even  civilizations  will  rise  and  fall  —  grand  constructs  of  glass  and  brick  and  metal,  crumbling  to  worthless  rubble  beneath  the  weight  of  TIME ITSELF.

yet  he  will  remain,  whether  he  wants  to  or  not.  a  creature  neither  living  nor  dead.  neither  god  nor  human.  a  sentient  record  of  this  world  and  its  gradual  decay.

❝  i  might  be  a  child  of  eternity ...  ❞   might  be.  his  mother  may  disagree.  (  had  she  not  effectively  disowned  him?  )  he  supposes  CREATION  would  be  the  more  apt  description.  ❝  ...  but  this  world  was  never  meant  for  something  like  me.  it's  too  impermanent ...  too  fragile.  ❞  he  fantasizes  sometimes  —  about  tearing  through  the  FALSE  SKY  and  clawing  his  way  to  worlds  outside this dreadful prison.  perhaps  there  may  yet  be  a  place  for  him  far  beyond  the  stars.  somewhere  better  tailored  to  a  creature  like  him.  the  wanderer  knows  it's  wishful  thinking  —  yet  deluding  himself  is  preferable  to  allowing  the  inherent  dread  of  his  existence  burn  a  hole  in  the  back  of  his  mind.

five  hundred  years  and  he's  already  so  tired. the future is meant to be a comfort, but sometimes he finds himself DREADING IT.  ❝  ... we  would  be  better  off  WITHOUT  each  other.  ❞

[youresupervalid]

Writing again :p

Words under the cut

Unfinished thingy.

Loneliness isn't a new concept to me, it honestly seemed to have always been with me, but for some reason nighttime brought the worst of it. It was as if the absence of light brought upon a loneliness lonelier than any human being should feel.

It always seemed that no matter how much access there was, no matter how fast it could have been to talk to anyone from anywhere, that no matter what, I was always lonely, everything in the palm of my hand and yet it was nothing.

Growing up with such power was always painful, everything at your fingertips and yet nothing at all. No motivation to do anything, god forbid i call myself lazy, it was less that i didn't want to do anything, and more along the lines that I just couldn't.

Always a pain in my chest telling me I should be doing something, anything. And a hole in my mind where the motivation for doing such things should be. Please do believe me. I wish I could have brought myself to do the stuff I wanted and needed, but a constant tiredness infested my brain, draining any and all motivation. Even just doing nothing would drain me, this terrible ‘illness’– that's all I can really call it–took every joy from my day.

And then the nights took the one thing I really had, my companionships, my friends and family–oh how much I loved having my family around, even though truly I despised them. The nights took everyone away, as they took to their beds while I alone lay awake, haunted by my mind.

It's been like this for as long as i can remember, pinpointing exactly when the passion that inherently must come with living left me, is a truly impossible action. But what I can pinpoint is when hope finally entered my life again, and then when it inevitably left.

I have a fair few friends, enough to bring one to question just how lonely someone with so many companions could possibly be, but it isn't merely a factor of how many friends someone has. For one could have a hundred friends and still never feel truly at home, never truly have somewhere they belong

[slaygentford]

Anyone say Jay Gatsby Dracula? Like he died at war and came back as a haunting to Daisy. An unquiet reminder of the past and the dissatisfaction of the present. A seductive force away from her normal life. And fair enough to Nick as well. Nick is drawn into the nightlife. Also Gatsby has a lair. fuckin what else from high school? Hamlet? The Bitch of Living from Spring Awakening?

jay Gatsby I feel like we've gotten but it bears repeating. also he has a particular pathetic vibe/emptiness that is inherent to and for draculas. like every dracula at the end of the day just has a gaping hole inside them that sucks everything around it in...I'm also thinking about boats beating ceaselessly into the past. like draculas are sometimes but not always men grappling with time (Tony "I think I came in at the end" soprano/gary oldman stabbing the cross in the 1400s or whatever and shifting from old to young/lestat's little lord fuckleroy portraits) so jay Gatsby is definitely living that reality. he refuses to progress so he becomes a relic like he's like what if I Dracula'd myself. and then he's like wait why am I in a coffin. but yeah nick and daisy absolutely his brides and good eye with the lair................. I LOVE A LAIR