#really interesting response from my brain following the horrors

[therainscene]

I think I might have figured out what the Mind Flayer really is.

This theory has been percolating in my brain for a while now; it hasn't really finished baking yet but I wanted to get the gist of it down before The First Shadow debuts.

Let’s begin at the Hawkins National Lab, 6th November 1983. For the second time in her young life, El faces terrifying and deeply traumatic circumstances which cause her powers to lash out and rip a gash in the fabric of reality.

Meanwhile, across town, Will is doing what every queer 12 year-old has done and finds an excuse to spend an extra moment alone with his crush.

His little gay heart is as aflutter as the garage lights.

(Strange, that. The lights, I mean -- considering that he's on the other side of town from the lab. Do you suppose the Demogorgon trekked all the way to Mike's house and quietly followed him home again?)

Will heads home, lost in thought as he cycles past the lab. Is he thinking about how sweet his new X-Men #134 is gonna be? Or is he thinking about something even sweeter? The lights flutter again.

And something in front of him notices.

Will has always been noticeable: his clothes, his mannerisms, his interests -- they've always attracted the attentions of bullies. Now something new -- or maybe something that was always there and is only now making itself known -- has attracted the attentions of a monster.

He runs home, he calls for help, but he's alone, there's no escape. He races to the shed and loads a gun like his father taught him -- but it's not in his nature to be violent. He freezes, petrified.

The lights surge as his terror wrestles control of his powers and uses them to puncture an escape route in the fabric of reality.

Why were we so quick to believe that the Demogorgon -- a minion of the guy whose whole thing is his inability to open gates -- was able to open its own temporary portals in S1 and then never again?

Will could plausibly have been responsible for every temporary portal in S1: he’s at the Byers house when the Demogorgon pushes through its walls; he's on the run to Castle Byers when Nancy stumbles across that portal in the woods; and he's plugged in to one of Vecna's vines during the finale -- something we see Vecna plug himself into when he remotely opens gates in S4.

There’s one exception though.

Barb likely slipped through a gate in Steve's pool, but how could Will have opened that one when he was in his bedroom at the time, talking to his mother through the lights?

Let me ask you this: isn't it interesting that of all the injuries Barb could have obtained in her passage to the Upside Down, she got a nosebleed?

I think powers are more common than we’ve been led to believe, and gates are a last-ditch self-defense mechanism for anyone with powers.

This is why the four curse victims’ deaths opened a gate: Vecna pushed them to their breaking point to artificially trigger the self-defense response. Those headaches and nosebleeds weren't caused by Vecna directly, but by their own powers acting up as they inched towards oblivion.

[Shoutout to @givehimthemedicine's underrated powers and blood theory for the idea of Vecna's Curse being the overcharging of his victims' own powers.]

It was already pretty obvious that Vecna's Curse is a metaphor for suicide, and this theory reinforces it: every kid who gets targeted by the horrors of Hawkins for being "different" tries to find some way to escape.

Willel's misfortune is that their powers are considerably more easily manifested than the average person's. Byler tells the story of visible vs invisible queerness, but that's just a reflection of the larger theme at play in the show: the visible and invisible ways kids are othered and abused.

Max's trauma was a quiet thing that came from within and festered until it was almost too late to save her... but Willel's trauma manifests as a giant monster that openly hunts them down.

And I'm being literal when I say the Mind Flayer is a manifestation of their trauma.

We know that Vecna fashioned the Mind Flayer from a cloud of black particles he found in the Upside Down, but where did that cloud come from? The Upside Down is a mysterious enough place that it's easy to assume the Shadow is native to that realm... but what if it isn't?

The Mind Flayer is heavily associated with repression -- Will gradually lost his memories while he was possessed, and El lost her powers when the sliver of Flesh Flayer wormed its way into her leg.

But Will has mysteriously been without powers ever since leaving the Upside Down, and we've seen El lose memories too: her memories of surviving the lab massacre, in which she didn't simply escape by opening up a gate, but by disintegrating her attacker into black particles.

The Mind Flayer doesn't cause repression -- it is repression.

There must have been countless generations worth of traumatized children who took the extra step El did and sent their abusers -- or at least their memories of abuse -- into that hidden realm beyond the gate.

(There's also the possibility that Mr. Time-is-Just-a-Social-Construct is stuck in a time loop of some sort -- maybe the massacre has repeated hundreds of times, and Dimension X is a timeless graveyard of El's attempts to repress her trauma. This would explain why Henry seems to have both disintegrated and survived: we were watching at least two different iterations of the massacre all along.)

Whichever way you slice it, it's a perfect fit: the tool Vecna uses to perpetuate the cycle of abuse isn't some bizarro alien from an alternate dimension, but a direct consequence of the cycle itself.

The Mind Flayer tells us that escape alone doesn't work as a long-term solution: it might help you survive the initial abuse, but if you don't address the effect it had on you...

...it will come back to wreck havok.

[Edit: Click here for post-TFS thoughts on this theory]

[writersdrug]

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 10)

<- Previous - Next ->

Summary: Thankfully, things have been resolved between you and Konig. You start to settle in more with your team, and Roze shares a few thoughts with you over a smoke. The memories are still there, but just like the winter around you, they're cold and unwelcoming. You and Konig open up to each other a bit more, more than you had ever opened up to anyone.

WARNINGS: implications of masturbation, cursing, angst (if you squint?), plot building, graphic depictions of animal torture and death (PLEASE CONSIDER ALL WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME thank you kindly)

Notes: Yes! Hello! I exist!! I've been in a slump, and I really do apologize for that. Many of you have been very patient with me and I love and appreciate you all for it! I had to intake as much CoD literature as I could in the past few weeks to get me motivated, which helped a LOT (not to mention I discovered no fewer than ten works that currently have a hold on my heart). But it's here! I forced myself to write over half of the following chapter so that it would be less daunting to finish up. I also plan to make a wip post for yall, just to share will everyone what goes on in my rat brain.

This was edited at 3 am (god it's 4 am now, i just saw that), so if there are any grammatical or spelling errors you have my full consent to call me out on it! Please enjoy!

(sidenote, I completely didn't research how old you need to be to become a navy SEAL, so reader's age is a bit inaccurate in regards to that. pls ignore lol)

(last sidenote then you can read, does anyone have tips for customizing the layout of their fics? I see so many cool ways to style the font and cute banners and errything but I have no idea how nor what to do)

- - - -

The sky hung low with a blanket of gray. It looked like it was about to snow, although the threat was soon dismissed when noon came around and there wasn’t a single flake. The air was cold and dry, forcing me to zip my jacket up all the way and tuck my nose into the collar. I blew steady, warm breaths into my jacket and tried to soak up the heat into my bones.

It was as if the incident had never happened.

Konig and I ended up driving to the liquor store, which was a blessing, since I had run out of Yeungling (and I didn’t understand enough Turkish to converse with the clerk, nor did I have any of the appropriate money – Konig was graced with both of those necessities). We talked like there had never been a week and a half of silence between us. He talked about how he had nearly forced Ridgeback to drag me out of my room and into the common area, “… but it would have been too early for that.” He commented. That, and I would have rather died.

So life went on as normal: dreary, aside from shooting people and getting shot at. Nonetheless, it was normal, and there was a peace to be found in that.

I leaned against the building to the training room, with Roze to my left. I had intended to come out and soak up whatever natural light I could – when I saw her standing there, possibly trying to do the same, I felt the instinct to play it off as if I was just leaving the building. But she cocked her head in a greeting, and a part of me took an interest in her worry-free aura. Out of everyone, she always seemed to be the least-stressed person in the room, even in the middle of a warzone. It was the balm to my anxious mind that I never knew I needed, but gratefully stood by.

We remained together in a comfortable silence (one I would most definitely would not have been comfortable with a while ago), staring ahead, watching the indecisiveness of the brooding clouds above. I wondered what the rest of the world was doing – if they might have been as calm and carefree as us, or if they were in some kind of peril, and the horrors of it were blocked out by the clouds.

I was drawn back to the present when I heard the click click click of Roze’s lighter. I turned my head and watched as she shielded the weak flame from the wind, lighting the cigarette that hung loosely from her lips.

“You smoke?” I asked.

“Sure do.” She replied nonchalantly. “Want one?” she extended her pack of cigarettes towards me.

I glanced at the box, feeling a sour taste in my mouth.

I lay on my stomach, my muscles still twitching and shaking as I tried to even out my breaths. Ghost had tossed a thin blanket over my lower half. I hadn’t even moved from the position he had ruthlessly fucked me in – my body ached too much to even try, and my mind was still recovering from the past hour.

I watch Ghost as he reclined next to me, pushing the bottom of his mask up to place a cigarette between his lips. It was the first time I had seen any part of his face all day. He grabbed his lighter from the pocket of his pants that were discarded on the floor, lighting the end of the cigarette and inhaling. He tossed the lighter back down to the floor as he tilted his head back, exhaling a long stream of smoke. I watched it swirl in the lamplight, settling in a cloud around us. He continued puffing, staring at the wall across from the bed as I lay beside him, although I felt worlds away from him.

He'd started off the night with a mountain of stress from a mission gone sideways. Instead of the usual slow build, where he would run his hands under my shirt and kiss my lips slowly and tenderly – he had walked in and immediately demanded I remove my clothes while he began stripping out of his. I had assumed tonight was going to be a passionate one, until he threw me onto my stomach and shoved my face into the pillows. It wasn’t the first time he’d been rough with me, but it wasn’t just rough – it felt dehumanizing. An hour of constant, merciless thrusts, and a hand around my neck that restricted both my blood flow and my oxygen, and I had fallen into a state of shock.

But, in the end, I was happy to be caged in by him again.

I was happy.

He turned his eyes towards me, seeming to sense that something was off. He exhaled another puff of smoke. “Everythin’ alright?” he asked, completely void of any genuine concern.

I met his eyes with my own. I felt like I shouldn’t have to answer the question, and it stirred up a bitterness in me. But I didn’t feel like arguing with him, and I certainly didn’t want him to leave – so I nodded my head, slowly blinking my eyes. “Just tired.”

He hummed and faced the wall again. He brought one of his knees up and rested his arm against it. “Want a smoke?” he asked, still looking away.

I shook my head as much as the pillow beneath me would allow. “No.” I replied.

He sighed disappointedly. Apparently, my lack of enthusiasm after being used like an old fucktoy was irking him.

To be fair, I never spoke up about how I felt.

He grunted and rose from his position, snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray by my bed, and picking up his clothes and pulling them on. My heart ached slightly as I watched him slide his shirt over his torso. I felt the threat of tears sting in my eyes as I wished his hands were holding me instead, keeping me warm and grounded. He pulled his jeans on and fastened them, buckling his belt rather quickly; and all while he faced away from me.

“Well, I know you probably need some alone time.” He muttered, sliding the skull attachment over his mask. “So I’ll get going. I’ll see you around.”

He grabbed his tactical vest and jacket and slung them over his shoulder. He paused by the door. “Thanks for tonight.” He mumbled, before finally leaving the room and softly closing the door behind him.

My eyes lingered on the ashtray with the half-smoked cigarette. A thin trail of smoke plumed into the air – I wanted to throw the tray across the room and shatter it. But it was Ghost’s, so I couldn’t; I couldn’t regardless, because it was a piece of him that remained with me, even when he left.

That, and the smell of smoke.

“Nah, I’m good.” I replied, facing the cold, empty base ahead of me.

“Good.” She said, pinching the cigarette and blowing a stream of smoke. “Stay that way. Did you know these bastards give you cancer?”

I chuckled into the collar of my jacket. “Do they, now?”

She hummed affirmatively, sucking another breath in through the cancerous bastard. “Who would’ve thought…”

We fell back into silence. I continued watching the stillness of the base, trying to see if the sky would follow through with its promise to fall. Now that my free time wasn’t spent holed up in my room, it somehow felt like there were fewer ways to spend it. With another mission on the horizon – a simple recon, yet dauntingly close to a heavily-guarded compound – no one was out and about when they usually were. Finding Roze outside and seemingly not worried was usual, however, and a warm sight, compared to how the rest of the team was on edge. Even Askel seemed grumpier than most days.

I hadn’t been seeking out someone to spend time with, no… that I would never do (or admit). But talking to a familiar face provided a comfort I had grown to need over the past couple of months. And, frankly, I felt like Konig might be getting tired of how much I ran to him when I craved social interaction. Though he had never said anything about it, I felt like I needed to branch out to other team members than just my Colonel. One might think I was trying to kiss his ass (I knew the accusation had already crossed Juno’s mind, but the young soldier was good at holding his tongue – when Konig was around, at least).

“You ever think about how ‘little girl’ you would react to this?” Roze asked, and I turned to face her. She had her nose scrunched, and a tinge of pink dusted over her cold cheeks. “Guns, war, no playdates or days at the beach…”

I sighed. “Probably would have cried.” I replied, allowing my freezing nose to poke over the collar of my jacket. “Especially if I had known that being a princess now adays meant spending more time worrying about becoming a hostage than anything else.”

Roze chuckled. “It’s a good thing we didn’t know then.” Her face was mostly blank, but I thought I noticed a hint of bitterness in the way her gaze landed on the ground. I watched her flick her cigarette with a bit more aggression than usual. “I would’ve tried to convince my entire family to run away to Scotland, live in hiding and pretend the rest of the world was a dream.”

“Scotland?” I asked. Soap’s cocky grin and heavy Scottish accent stirred in my mind, but it felt like nothing more than a small cloud of dust.

“Yeah – heard it’s fucking gorgeous over there.” She waved her cigarette in no particular direction. “Now, I don’t know how peaceful it is in terms of politics and war, but it’s pretty spacious. Simple, too. I feel like if I talked about throwing all my shit away and becoming a fisherman for a living, I wouldn’t get people trying to talk me out of it like I would in the States.” She took another drag, and laughed out the smoke.

“Fisherman?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled, a hardened smile gracing her lips. “I don’t know why it sounds so appealing… it just does.”

I hummed and looked back out at the compound. I wondered about Roze’s past; she had never said or done anything to indicate that it was particularly rough, as it was for the majority of us (us – I still wasn’t used to including myself, but it was becoming more of a habit each time), but the weariness in her eyes when she spoke about her younger self made me question what that girl had been through. Maybe it was just nostalgia. A yen for simpler times. Roze seemed to appreciate the simple things in life.

“You know Askel goes ice fishing?” she said suddenly.

I smiled underneath my jacket. “Seems like something he would do.”

“Every winter.” She continued. She dropped her cigarette to the floor and crushed it into the gravel. “He takes about three weeks of leave, if we’re lucky enough to get it, and goes to Norway. Sits on a frozen lake for hours a day, just waiting for a fish.”

“You make it sound like he’s never caught one.” I point out, my eyes lingering on the cigarette.

She shrugged her shoulders. “So does he. Every time I ask him what he caught, he just laughs. Says he’s never expects to get a bite.”

I closed my eyes and hummed in response. It was easy to picture the scene – Askel, sitting on a thick layer of ice, nursing the hoppy beers that he and Konig loved so much and waiting for a fish to bite. I wondered if he even bothered to reel the line in when he did catch something. Or if he even went fishing at all. Maybe he just went out there to get a sense of peace, to pretend that war and death didn’t exist.

The motion of thick, heavy snowflakes falling from the sky caught my attention. They landed on the skin of my nose, resisting the warmth for a few moments, before they eventually melted into trickles of water. A sudden gust of wind blew a flurry of them towards us, making the both of us flinch.

Maybe fishing doesn’t sound too bad.

- - - -

The shooting range was mostly silent, save for the occasional conversation between me and Konig. The lights were low, easily illuminating the gunpowder and dust swirling in the air. Konig and I stared at the paper target as we analyzed my shots. A few hit dead center, although most of them were clustered around the lower left of the bullseye. My lips were pursed into a scowl as I glared at my sub-par aim – it wasn’t typically so awful, but of course it was while Konig had been watching.

“Eh, are you sure you didn’t lie on your paperwork about being a sniper?” Konig asked as he stood behind my left shoulder, taking the target from my hands and looking at it closely. “You weren’t even ten yards from it. This is very poor marksmanship.”

I scowled in embarrassment, taking my pistol to the counter and pulling out the mag. “Rough day.” I answered bluntly as I started packing more bullets into the small compartment. It wasn’t a lie – I had barely gotten any sleep the night before. I was in the middle of a rather interesting dream involving me and Ghost, until my alarm woke me up before anything of importance happened.

“Very bad…” he mumbled to himself. I clicked my tongue in annoyance.

“Y’know…” I grumbled, loading the mag back into the gun and shoving it in my holster, “I don’t like stereotyping, but the boot really does fit you.” I walked past him and out into the hallway, not waiting for him to follow.

“Hmm?” he made an indignant noise, momentarily stuck in his spot, before he came jogging after me. “What does that mean? What stereotype?”

I chuckled. “Haven’t you ever how Germans are extremely blunt?” I asked.

“Austrian.” He retorted. “Do I need to brand that onto my face for you?”

“Wouldn’t do me much good, with the mask ‘n all.” I replied.

He laughed – rather snorted, as usual – “Ah, you’re right. Maybe I am blunt – just as much as you are defensive.”

I stopped at the end of the hall, right in front of the exit. “Defe-“ I turned on my heel to scowl at him. “I am not defensive! Where did you get that idea?!”

He stopped behind me, his eyes widening. He gestured an open palm in my direction. “This.”

I huffed, turning back around to punch the door open. The snow from earlier that day had ceased, blanketing the base in a thin layer of white. The moon seemed that much brighter against the crystalized ground, and the yellow lights scattered across the compound made parts of the snow look like sandy dunes. My nose tingled from the nip of the chilly air, and I pulled my jacket tighter around my body as the door fell shut behind me and Konig.

“Well, what am I supposed to say when you call me defensive?”

“You could agree.”

“But I don’t.”

“Which proves my point.”

I huffed in frustration, despite the smirk curling on the edges of my lips. “So, either I have to agree with you, whether I really do or don’t, or you’ve corralled me into a paradox.”

I can practically hear the gears turning in his head. “A what?”

“A paradox, like a – y’know, never mind. It’s too difficult to explain.” I let him fall in step next to me, although he was the one who needed to slow down to match my pace. “We can just agree to disagree, how’s that?”

“Agreed.” He nodded, and I chuckled. “It won’t change the fact that I’m right, you know.” He added.

I bit my lip and tried to keep my smile from growing ridiculously larger. I looked up at him and patted his shoulder – he looked down at me, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled back. A stray, reddish-brown curl poked through the side of his balaclava, and I found the miniscule detail warming my heart through the cold air. He felt real, and in this moment, too human for this kind of life.

“Why did you choose the military?” I asked, turning back to look at the ground as we walked.

He hummed. “Isn’t that every boy’s dream?”

“Well, yes – but most of the time, it never becomes more than that.” I responded.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, mimicking my own position. “I’m not really sure what made me push so much for it. I almost didn’t make it, for obvious reasons.”

I chuckled. “Size does matter, huh?”

He looked down at me with a deadpan gaze, one that I refused to meet. “It almost did, in a bad way. And I almost backed out before they could be the ones to turn me away. But, of course, they knew they would find some use for my size – so they took me in.”

“And what did they do with you?” I asked, looking back at him.

“A ‘human battering ram,’ as my superiors had so nicely called it.” He framed the description with his hands in the air, as if it had been written on a plaque. I laughed and looked back down at my feet.

“Seriously?” I asked. “So they just had you breaking down doors, and then what?”

Konig laughed with me. “Well, I still had a gun, so I was able to shoot, thank goodness. And I had a bit more gear so I wouldn’t break my bones against the doors – I still dislocated my shoulder a few times, however…” he rolled his left shoulder, as if there was still a lingering pain from how often he had thrown himself at doors. “It was actually during a period of recovery when I proved that I could still be a sniper. My shoulder was still healing, so I had to give up being a battering ram for a while. I was sat with Horangi on the side of the mountain to give him cover. Of course, he was ambushed – he had to fight the Arschgiege right when we were given the order to shoot, so I had to take position behind the gun.” I noticed that his chest was puffed out a bit from pride. “That really knocked their pants off.”

I chuckled, choosing to ignore the inaccuracy of his phrase. “Did it now?”

“It did.” He replied, then looked at the ground. “For a moment. I got a good earful for overstepping boundaries that day, but it’s what ultimately landed me here – so I’m grateful for it.”

I nodded and hummed. “What was Horangi picked for?”

Konig shrugged, his hands now back in his pockets. “He never said what he and Commander had spoken about in his office. But, even if he wasn’t chosen – I like to think we come as a package. If I go, he goes, if he doesn’t, I don’t.”

I felt my heart warm at his words. The memory of how Juno had described Konig couldn’t be farther from my mind. It almost felt like I was talking to someone I briefly crossed paths with in my youth – not a war criminal, not the bloody and stiff soldier who had stepped onto the heli after our first mission. I envied his ability to separate his work stress from the time he had in between missions.

“Why did you decide to join?” He asked, catching me off guard.

It was only fair that I opened up to him, since he was so willing to do the same. Always the one to go first, too. But I had to be careful. I didn’t want this to turn into a pity party, and I didn’t want to dig anything up that I had worked so hard to bury deep beneath my subconscious.

“I was… a weird kid. Like you.” I said, making Konig scoff and roll his eyes. “Looking back now, I hate my younger self. I was so sensitive to what people thought about me, and I just wanted to be independent and strong. I wanted to be a ‘different girl.’” I gritted out the words that left a sour taste in my mouth. “I think I just wanted attention at first – of course, when I heard how everyone said they hated how annoying teenage girls were, and how gullible and weak they were, it just – it made me change. I wanted to prove everyone wrong, it wasn’t just about being different anymore. So, as soon as I turned old enough, I enlisted. Didn’t get to Navy SEAL right away, of course… but I joined every program I was allowed in until I could submit my application.”

I sighed, then chuckled. “Thought my family would say they were proud, that I was successful, that I was doing a good job… they were just angry. Said I was throwing my life away for business that didn’t involve our country.” I opened my mouth to say more, but I ended up scoffing and closing it once again. I felt like I had shared enough.

I looked at Konig, expecting him to acknowledge what I said. “That’s how the story goes…” he would say. But, when I met his gaze, I only saw concern. His brow was creased with what I imagined was pity, and my stomach churned. It was the exact opposite of the reaction I had hoped for. I only wanted to share stories with him, and now it was… this.

“I think you made the right choices.” He said, and I looked away.

“You don’t need to make me feel better, Konig. I appreciate it, but-“

“I’m not just trying to make you feel better.” He said, his accent slightly thicker from his exasperation. “You’re good at what you do. Your parents are just probably worried for you, and they don’t know how to show it.”

I bit down on my tongue, my eyes settling on the building in front of us with a hard expression. If only.

“Maybe that’s it.” I muttered, hoping he would drop the subject. He seemed to understand, and turned to look ahead with a disappointed sigh. My heart sank the tiniest bit at the sound, and I internally scolded myself. Still a people-pleaser, apparently.

We continued walking in silence, the buzz of the lights above us mimicking the static of a communication system that had been severed in a time where it was needed most. The edge of the barracks appeared into our view, just around the corner of the arsenal sheds that stood between us and our destination. I continued to stare at the ground, pretending to watch my steps and try to not slip on the snowy asphalt. My heart twisted with each second of silence that sat thickly between us. It wasn’t technically a fight, but somehow, it felt worse. It felt like the first time I had pissed him off, the first time we had spoken to each other – and god, did I already hate myself for the way I had acted towards him during those first few weeks. I didn’t want to drive another wedge between us, not after the ones that had already been worked back out.

I exhaled heavily through my nose. “Sorry.” I mumbled quietly, but loud enough that I knew it reached his ears. “Sensitive topics.”

He flitted his eyes in my direction, but didn’t bother to move his head. He sighed, and I nearly jolted when I felt his wide hand on my upper back. It rubbed back and forth, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that he was comforting me. Or, trying to, at least.

“I know.” He said, and his hand rested on my shoulder. “I’m sorry for pushing you.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I was stuck on the feeling of the roughness of his palm, which I could gleam through the fabric of my jacket. How his fingers squeezed gently and released twice. There was no hidden meaning, no forced contact or any kind of attempt to put context into the touch. It was… natural. Warm, comforting, and it spoke a thousand words that I wouldn’t have been able to stomach if he had said them. It broke past my self-hatred and walls of ‘don’t be weak’ that I would have used as my defense if he had tried to verbally convey any sort of consolation. It was the first time I didn’t feel awkward about being so close to him, let alone when he was touching me. I wondered if he did this on purpose, or if he had no idea what he was doing at all.

I let myself stand nearer to him, almost tucked under his arm. I looked up and smiled as genuinely as I could – not that it was hard for me, but because I wanted to make sure that he really knew how much I appreciated the gesture. Although, if he knew that this simple act of comfort would pierce through my outer shell, was it really necessary?

“Thank you, Konig.” I said.

He looked down at me and smiled. That damn smile. I wondered how much more refreshing it would be when he wasn’t wearing his mask. It was already too much for my soul to bear when it was just the crinkling in his eyes that I could see.

“Anytime, Bonnie.” He replied, patting my shoulder before tucking his hand back into his pocket. I grieved minimally at the loss of the touch, but I was happy for what it was. “And I mean it. Anytime you need to talk – or not talk, and do that empty staring that you do – just come find me.”

I quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “Anytime?” I asked amusedly.

“Mhm!” Konig replied, his eyes on the ground as he watched his steps. Then, the realization hit him, and his eyes went wide with panic. “Oh- well, eh- I guess, not anytime-“

“You gonna tell me when?” I joked, and he laughed. “You need an open/closed sign on your door.” I jogged ahead, trying to reach the door to the barracks before he did.

“How about this?” he called out, and I could hear the grin behind his mask. “I’ll nail a chalkboard to my door, and if I’m busy, I’ll draw a stick guy jerking off in his bed!”

My cheeks burned after I heard him. “No!” I shrieked, laughing nervously. “You’ll traumatize Juno!” I quickly tried to pin this on someone other than me.

“Juno, hah?” Konig teased, and I had half a mind to run into the building and leave him on the quad. “I don’t care about him. Kid needs to be traumatized.”

I laughed and threw my head back, turning the corner around the arsenal shed. “That’s not very-“

Immediately, my heart leapt into my throat, and I gasped. Konig nearly ran into my back as he skidded to a halt.

Sick, sick, what the fuck, I feel sick-

“Stimmt etwas nicht?” he asked, concerned. “What- oh, scheisse-“

We both stared at the bird on the ground. A crow from the looks of it, though it was hard to even decipher that it was a bird in the first place, due to the state it was in. Its belly had been cut open, entrails and bloody bits pulled from the abdomen and strewn to either side of the bird. Its wings were stretched to their full capacity and most likely beyond it, crushed and missing a large number of feathers. Both of the legs appeared to have been ripped off and tossed to the left of the crow. Its beak was the worst of it all: pried open, the jaw probably broken from how wide it was spread. A haunting look of terror in the crow’s red, glossy eyes made a violent shiver run up my spine.

I exhaled shakily, my eyes still glued to the horror. “Holy shit – what the-“

Konig quickly walked around me and knelt in front of the crow. I shifted to look over his shoulder, still fearfully curious, but he held a hand out behind him, urging me to stay in place. With his other hand, he pulled at one of the bird’s wings, stiff and heavy. Whether it was frozen from the cold, or this was the effects from rigor mortis, I couldn’t tell.

“How – did a fucking fox do that?!” I asked. Are there even foxes in this area? How the hell did one get on base?

“Nein.” Konig replied, still looking at the corpse. His gaze fell upon it with a sense of… familiarity, maybe? “Not a fox, no.”

“Then what? It – whatever it was didn’t even eat-“

“I’ll take care of this.” Was all Konig said. He stood up and marched past me – I was barely able to catch a glimpse of his furious expression. His eyes were hard and narrow, and as he walked away, I noticed that his shoulders were tense and his hands were balled into fists. I didn’t dare say anything to him; he almost looked the same way he did after our first mission together, except this time, his anger seemed to be directed at something, instead of just a post-mission adrenaline high.

“I’ll see you later.” He said over his shoulder. There was an obvious fury to his words, and although I knew it wasn’t intended towards me, it still made me freeze where I stood – almost as if I might anger him more simply by taking a step after him.

Whatever it is… I thought, watching him disappear into the compound, he’s sorting it out. I can take care of myself. Although, with such an abrupt and tense departure, I was at a loss on what to do next. I looked back at the bird; its terrified eyes locked onto the sky above it, frozen in its last wish to fly away from whatever horror it endured.

A shiver ran up my spine, prompting me to look away.

- - - -

Taglist: @igotmajordaddyissues @princekonig @vixionix @v3lv3tvampir3 @theoneandonlykymberlee @luvvnightingalee @dillybuggg @sun-joo @perfectus-in-morte @evilive @satakingslime @comfortless

Please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

[bloofinntoona]

A Whisker Away

Word Count: 4.4 k

Themes: major fluff, a lot of friendship, sebastian sallow x f!reader x ominis gaunt

Summary: your transfiguration spell had gone wrong - you were stuck as a cat for the day. it wasn't bad, after all you get to spend time with your friends in a new perspective - even you get to confess to the boys that you had been harboring feelings for.

So bright.

You blinked a few times, adjusting to the blinding sunlight shining through the trees in the courtyard. Everything was brighter and clearer. Your body felt significantly lighter and nimbler. The grounds felt rough and hot. The spell works! You tried to yell, but what came out from your mouth was a loud "Meow!"

"It's not a difficult spell, Y/N." Professor Weasley smiled, her motherly aura was always comforting. She was very patient in teaching you some basic spells that were already taught in the first four years of the Wizarding School. But alas, you only had a couple of years to catch up before your N.E.W.Ts.

A year passed after the Ranrok incident, you've aced your O.W.Ls, and you've made great friends along the way - especially your unbreakable bond with two infamous Slytherin boys. The three of you were inseparable, and the school knows that. However, on that specific day, Professor Weasley asked you to study the Transfiguration spell by yourself. Conveniently, Sebastian and Ominis also had to do their assignments.

You found yourself in the middle of an empty courtyard, wand ready in your grasp. You imagined a black feline cat, similar to a cat that your family had back home in London. With a gentle swish of your wand, a blue light sparked, surrounding you as you quickly shrank down, and soft black fur covered your whole body. 

At least it works, you thought, Now I just need to get back to my human form. To your horror, your head blanked - no memory of how to do so. You eyed your wand, raking your brain as to how to actually hold the stick and cast the Untransfiguration spell. You started to panic, especially after hearing a hoard of footsteps approaching the courtyard. You hesitantly bit the wand, strutting to a hidden spot just behind the bushes, and set your wand there. Hopeful that it would stay hidden until you transform back into a human. 

The experience wasn't as bad as you thought, you received a lot of compliments and pats from the students. You finished your class schedule for the day anyways, so no Professors would be worried about your whereabouts. 

In the corner of your eyes, you spotted a small girl, hunched by herself. Zenobia Noke! You thought. It was the girl that you helped finding gobstones all over the school. You felt bad, really, even though she was a bit odd, she didn't deserve to be ostracized for a mere game. You made your way to the girl, earning a sincere smile.

"Oh, hi kitty!" she beamed, patting your head. "Want to play with me?"

You meowed in response. It's not like anyone is looking for you at the moment. 

"Great!" Zenobia chuckled before going on about the game rules. You were slightly bewildered why this girl would go that far for a cat, but you shrug it off. You knew the rules obviously, being coerced to play by none other than Sebastian a while back. Somehow Zenobia wasn't suspicious that a cat was pretty deft playing the game, even winning once against her, spraying a God-awful stench towards the poor Ravenclaw.

"I've never had this much fun in a while," she giggled, even though she smelled horrendous, "I must say goodbye though, good cat. I need a shower."

As she left you, she shouted, "I'll see you again, Gobby!"

You were amused by the name, Zenobia was an odd girl after all, but she wasn't as bad as you thought. I guess I'm Gobby now. You chuckled to yourself.

As you were walking past the hallway, your nose picked up an interesting smell - a mix of marshmallows, grass, and burning rubber. Not long after, you heard a loud BANG!, followed by a massive purple smoke coming out from the male's lavatory. A few first-year students ran out of the premises, shouting as their bodies were covered in what seemed like purple dust. You shook your head, surely it was the fault of a certain Gryffindor boy. 

You marched into the bathroom, finding Garreth Weasley leaning against the bathroom wall, coughing his lungs out. You dimwit, what did you do this time? You wanted to say it out loud, but all you could do was utter another Meow. "Hello?!" he jumped, "Oh, it's just a cat." He laughed at himself, crouching down to pat your back, which was now littered with purple dust.

"You see, I'm in a predicament here." The redhead looked at what seemed like a destroyed toilet stall - or whatever was left of it. A cauldron filled with a sorry excuse of a potion was placed on top of the toilet, different rare ingredients (not sure where he got them from) scattered all over the floor. "I was testing my greatest invention. But you know what they say, there is no success without failure."

If you were in your human form, you most likely already had your face buried in your palms. You don't even remember the day when Garreth succeeded in his "inventions". As you were looking around for the cleaning supplies, the door bursted open, revealing another redhead - Leander Prewett stomped into the room, face red filled with anger.

His voice was calm in comparison to his visible veins popped on his temples, "I knew it was you again when I saw those poor first-years covered in purple dust!" he crossed his arms, "Do you know how many points had been taken out of Gryffindor because of you?!"

Garreth put his hand up and smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry?" He sighed loudly, "I'll clean it up before anyone else noticed. Really. Plus, this little cat here will help." Garreth winked at you.

You groaned internally, the sheer audacity of this man. "Oh, I didn't see you there." Leander flashed you a smile, also giving you a gentle pat on your head, "Sorry you had to see this, cat, but we need your help in saving Gryffindor's house points." He gave Garreth a vicious side-eye, "Would you help us sneak into Professor Sharp's storage room so I can steal a jar of Blatta Pulvereus?"

You nodded, forgetting that you should've acted like a normal cat: not understanding human gestures. The two Gryffindor students just shrugged, probably too deep into their plan of cleaning the mess before anyone else noticed. Garreth decided to stay and tidy up as best as he could, while Leander took you in his arms, striding towards the Potions class. "The plan is simple. I'll sneak you in through a small opening on the wall, and I shall tell Professor Sharp that my pet cat wandered into the room. He'll give me permission to go in," he grins mischievously, "Unlike Weasley, my records are squeaky clean."

Leander paused for a bit, the silence was a little awkward if you had to be honest. You never had the chance to talk to Leander a lot, your Slytherin friends often made unsavory remarks towards Prewett, and you weren't surprised since there was an unspoken tension between the two houses. "Since you're a cat, I'll be truly honest," his voice was low, almost inaudible, "I appreciate my friendship with Weasley. He's a menace and a serial troublemaker, but he always makes me laugh. He was the first person to say hi to me during our first year - and guess what? They thought I was a Weasley too!" he ended his confession with a laugh.

Leander and you arrived at the potions class in no time. He let you down, pointing towards a small hole leading into the storage room, perfectly fitting your nimble body. You gave him a meow and sneaked into the room. You overheard the brief conversation between Leander and Professor Sharp, the man was definitely too tired that he approved the request right away. In no time, the door clicked, and Leander winked at you. He grabbed the Blatta Pulvereus jar in a jiffy, stuffing it in his pocket, and scooped you up again in his arms. Leander thanked the Professor, who replied with an obviously annoyed grunt.

“Nice job, cat!” Leander grinned widely, “I think you deserve a name - Ginger!” He laughed at his own joke, “You might have black fur, but you can be the third member in our redhead trio.”

You meowed loudly in response, it’s definitely a better name that whatever Zenobia came up with earlier. The two of you practically ran back to the lavatory. “Just the people I wanted to see!” Garreth greeted with a toothy smile, “You took your sweet time… I had to pretend I had a terrible bowel sickness to make sure people stay away from the bathroom.”

Leander was visibly disgusted. “Whatever, here, work your magic.” He handed Garreth the ingredient. The Gryffindor boys quickly spray it all over the purple residue, promptly diminishing any proof of Weasley’s “failed” experiment. The boys high-fived each other, and they both gave you pats, “Welcome to the redhead trio, Ginger,” Leander and Garreth laughed, “You are more than welcome to join our, more legit, adventures next time.”

“Oh, I bet Ginger is hungry!” Garreth pulled out a black-ish jello from his satchel, “I made this super food that makes you not hungry for days- Wait!”

You walked away quickly from the two Gryffindor boys, I will definitely die if I eat that, you thought, shivering.

Garreth’s remark about food did make you realize you haven’t had anything since breakfast. Your stomach started to rumble, signaling that you need some substance if you have to continue your journey. You were busy thinking about how to find some sort of human food that you didn’t realize you’d bumped into a pair of legs. You looked up, Poppy Sweeting and Natty Onai! You were relieved to see your closest female friends.

“Such an adorable creature!” Natty mused, picking you up and hugging you close. You purred, Natty always gave the best hugs.

“Poor kitty,” Poppy added, patting your head, “I can hear your stomach grumbling! You must be hungry. I have some animal treats in my satchel if you want!”

You meowed loudly in protest, hissing at the Hufflepuff girl. She was taken aback. You felt sorry, but you were sure your good friend would understand if she knew the situation.

“Looks like our little friend wants something heartier and fancier,” Natty smiled,” We are planning to visit Hogsmeade for a little shopping spree. But looks like one of our friend forgot.”

You blinked, Merlin’s balls! You totally forgot that you promised the girls for a little trip to Hogsmeade. You felt bad, truly, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t tell them that you were stuck in the body of a cat. You were sure Natty and Poppy would understand, but-

“I knew Y/N forgets about us!” Imelda barged in, face visibly grumpy. Oh no, Imelda will skin me alive for this. 

Poppy held her hands up, “Calm down, Imelda, I’m sure Y/N is just busy with her schoolwork. We’ll ask her why tomorrow.”

“I’m sure she’s busy with Sallow and Gaunt!” Imelda huffed, “It’s hard enough to get us together these days… I just wanted to spend time with my girls.” Now you felt worse. You had a lot of schoolwork, but you did spend more time with Sebastian and Ominis these days. The two boys were pretty much hogging your time. You made a mental note to hang out with your girlfriends more - after all, they were always there to listen to your worries and gave more compassionate advices compared to the boys.

“I agree with Poppy,” Natty smiled, “I’m sure Y/N has her reasons. Let’s go to Honeydukes anyways. Plus, we have a stand-in over here.” The Gryffindor girl held you up to Imelda, who greeted you with a head scratch.

“Fine. Let’s go!”

With you in Natty arms, the three girls grabbed a handful of floo powder and set their destination to Hogsmeade. A green flame enveloped the students as they immediately transported to the middle of the small town. The courtyard was bustling with vendors, students, and shoppers. They hurried off to Honeydukes, with Imelda leading the charge. She rushed to a quaint table next to the window, the group’s favorite spot. 

“A pumpkin pasty for me, raspberry cake for Natty, blueberry muffin for Imelda, and a meat pie for our new friend.” Poppy brought their orders to the table, setting the meat pie on the ground for you to eat. You gobbled up the pastry in no time, you knew you can depend on your girls.

Imelda poured tea for the three girls, while she set a cup of milk on the ground. “Well,” she cleared her throat, “There is a specific reason why I asked you all to meet me today.”

The other two girls looked at her intently. You jumped onto Poppy’s lap, I’m not missing this! You thought. To your dismay, Imelda’s face was blushing red. She leaned in as the other girls did the same, “Everett Clompton asked me to be his girlfriend!” Her voice gradually went higher as she finished her sentence.

There was a short pause as everyone processed the information. Your jaw hung low in shock. “Oh dear, I’m sorry- Ouch!” Poppy yelped as Natty pinched her side.

“...And I assume from your giddy reaction, you said yes?” Natty smiled widely.

Imelda slowly nodded, “Yes, I did.” she whispered.

The group erupted in cheer, as they got glares from other customers. The girls laughed. “Congratulations, Imelda, you’re the first one in our group to be in a relationship!” said Natty.

“Ha! And you don’t count whatever Y/N have with Sallow and Gaunt as a relationship?” Imelda laughed, sipping her tea. What do you mean?! You meowed, frustrated that you were the topic of the conversation, even though you can’t say anything to defend yourself. “They are inseparable these days. I tried to ask her for Quidditch tryouts, but Sallow was all up in her space.” Imelda added.

“It’s pretty amusing to see how she is so oblivious,” Natty giggled, “I swear I saw Gaunt’s smile disappeared completely whenever Y/N talks to other boys, except for Sallow, of course.”

You were flabbergasted. Were you that daft? Sure, you harbored special feelings towards your closest friends, but you were too scared to speak up. The friendship that you shared together was like a treasure that you held close to your heart. You would rather bury your romantic feelings deep in your heart to not spoil your friendship. 

“Our dear cat is tense,” Poppy hummed while she stroked your back, “Hush now, it will be alright.” You purred and leaned back against her hands. You really wished you could vent your frustrations to them right now.

“So, Poppy, Natty,” Imelda eyed her friends, “Any gossips from your ends?”

The other girls and you looked at each other. Natty took the lead and shook her head, “Not for me,” she laughed, “My mother will skin me alive if she even thinks that I’m in a relationship while I’m still in my studies. Plus, I’m not rushing anything.”

“Cheers to that.” Imelda held out her tea cup, clinking it against the others’ cups.

“I..” Poppy paused, blush crept up her face, “Samantha Dale was being really nice to me.”

Natty and Imelda grinned, and you meowed loudly, “Go on.” Imelda wiggled her eyebrows.

“She’s probably nice to everyone!” Poppy quickly added, voice louder than before, “Plus, she’s so focused on her studies, I don’t think she even thinks about these things…”

“I think she’s just a nerd.” Imelda joked, earning a kick on her shin from Natty, “I’m sorry! I was just joking!” she sighed, “You should go for it, Poppy, if you don’t stay true to your feelings now, you will regret it. I am very sure of that.”

You took Imelda’s words. Their conversation seemed to drawned out by the thoughts in your head. Maybe Imelda was right, you should have stayed true to your own feelings and confess to Sebastian and Ominis. Will they think it’s weird for you to have a crush on two people at the same time? You raked your brains, not realizing that it was time for the group to head back to Hogwarts.

They returned to Hogwarts with another handful of floo powder. The girls bid their goodbyes as they took turn patting your head. “You’re a part of the coolest group in Hogwarts now,” Imelda laughed, “We’ll call you… Chamomile. Just like the delicious tea we had earlier.”

“I still wished Y/N was here.” Natty and Poppy sighed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give her a good smack when she’s back!” Imelda nodded her head, smiling mischievously. 

You laid down on your back at the astronomy tower, looking at the array of stars decorating the night. The tower was the place that you often went if you wanted to find an empty spot to think. It was always cold, but you had never gotten tired of the beautiful night sky. The conversations you had with the girls were echoing in your head. You barely saw Sebastian and Ominis that day. Are they worried that you’re not around? Do they not care about you anymore? The two Slytherin boys plagued your mind. Maybe it was better for you to stay as a cat so you didn’t have to deal with your urge to be more than friends with them.

Suddenly, a pain from your tail shot up throughout your body. You let out a loud shriek, your body instinctively jumped back, fur stood up, and you hissed at the boy who accidentally stepped on your tail. 

“Merlin’s beard! I’m so very sorry!” Amit dropped his scrolls, repeatedly apologizing for stepping on you.

Apology accepted, you meowed. You purred against his leg to show him that it was fine, and you understood that it was a mistake. He sighed and crouched down, patting your back.

“I’m sorry, kitty, I’m usually alone here.” Amit gathered his belongings and set down his books and scrolls on the table with a loud Thud!

You looked at him in awe. Amit was a diligent student, but you had never thought that he would stay up late to study. You jumped on the table, sitting down next to him as you scanned the books - all of them related to astrology.

“You don’t mind if I study here, don’t you?” Amit laughed, scratching your chin. You meowed in response, as if you were trying to say it’s alright.

“Well, even if you don’t understand, It’s nice to have a study mate.” He smiled, pointing at a cluster of star in the sky, “That’s Ursa Major, and that one is Draco… wait no, that is a Leo minor! And that one on the far right is Pollux.”

He sighed, “Do you know why I like stars, kitty?” he leaned back against his chair, setting his telescope down, “They are always in groups. Even if in reality they are far apart from each other, from our perspective, they look like they are never alone.” 

The Ravenclaw student smiled bitterly, “I missed my family,” he whispered, “It was hard for me to move here alone. My parents and siblings are currently living in India, so it’s so difficult to see them during breaks.”

“I tried to make friends, but they are hard to come by,” He sighed, but his smile came back again, looking at you, “But you are a good company and listener.”

You are my friend, Amit! You screamed out, resulting in a series of loud meows. He chuckled, “You are a smart one, aren’t you?” he tapped his chin, “I’ll call you Taara - it means ‘Star’ in Hindi.”

You meowed gleefuly, it was the prettiest name anyone in the school had given you so far. “I bet not a lot of students will understand that,” Amit chuckled, “It’ll be our little secret!”

Before he could continue, the doors opened. “I think it’s Professor Shah,” Amit said as he picked you up, striding down the tower and put you down in front of the classroom, “Sorry, Taara, Professor Shah isn’t too fond of animals in the Astronomy tower,” he frowned, “I’ll see you again soon!” 

Amit waved his hand as he retreated back to the tower.

Gobby, Ginger, Chamomile, and Taara.

Today was beyond eventful. It was almost time for the night curfew, and you were still stuck as a cat. Your limbs were tired from walking around the castle. A big part of you were grateful of this mishap, as you were able to get to know your schoolmates better. Although you spent your day with other students, you haven’t met the two people you were looking for.

“Ah, such a pretty cat.” You were startled at the sudden complement. You jumped back, eyes wide as you stared at a boy clad in shirt and long pants, a green Slytherin tie adorned on his chest. His auburn hair kept tousled. A huge smile formed on his freckled face. Sebastian! It’s me! You yelled on top of your lungs, still resulting in meows.

“A loud one, for sure.” A chuckle left another boy behind Sebastian. His eyes were light grey, as they were reflecting a cloudy storm. His hair was still neatly combed. The tip of his wand glowed, casting a beautiful red light against your black fur. 

Sebastian gently picked you up, holding you close in his arms. You hoped that he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was thumping. Surely, they don’t know about your situation, right? You inhaled his scent - cinnamon, musk, and a tinge of burning wood. You shamelessly curled up to him, purring as you did so. You felt Sebastian’s chuckled, “Looks like this cat is tired.” He gently stroked your back.

“Let’s bring it back to the common room,” Ominous replied, closing in to Sebastian as he slowly moved his hand, tracing your soft fur, “We have cozy fireplace and warm milk for our little friend.”

You heard the sound of fire crackling and warmth against your skin. You contorted your body as you found a comfortable position the pillow. As you blinked your eyes open, you were laying down on a pillow on top of Ominis’ lap. The two Slytherin boys were sitting on the sofa next to the fireplace. Sebastian was lounging with a book on his hand. Suddenly you were washed with sadness. You never felt safer than this moment, just with Sebastian and Ominis, the two boys that you cared for the most. You closed your eyes again, too cozy to wake up.

“You know, I haven’t seen Y/N today,” Sebastian muttered, eyes still glued to the book. Your ears perked up as they started to mention your name.

Ominis sighed, “I know, I’ve been worried sick. I hope nothing happened to her.” You found it hard to rest as your heart was beating faster. They were worried about me! you thought.

“I think she will be fine,” Sebastian hummed, “Y/N is smart, and strong to boot. I know she’ll be alright no matter what opponents or tasks she’s facing.”

“I agree. That’s why I find her so… beautiful.” Ominis added. With that sentence, you jolted up. Your heart and mind were in a jumble.

Ominis’ fingers caressed your head, “Sebastian, the cat is awake.”

Sebastian sighed in content as he closed his book, tossing it to the side. He walked closer to you, scratching your chin, “Did you have a good rest?”

You instinctively purred. Sebastian and Ominis chuckled at your reaction, “So adorable.” said the auburn haired boy.

“You know, Sebastian,” Ominis added, still stroking your back, “Since this cat wil probably stay with us for a while, should we name her?”

Sebastian nodded, smirking, “I have a name in mind…” He crouched down to meet your gaze, “How does Y/N sound?”

You stood up, meowing loudly. They knew?! Your emotions were mixed up; panic, embarrassment, and a bit of anger for not helping you earlier. 

“Hold on now,” Sebastian laughed, “I’ll help you.” He took out his wand and gently tapped your head. The same blue light reappeared around you as you turned back into human in a split second. You examined your fur-less fingers and grabbed onto your uniform, “I’m back!!” you shouted, pumpking your fist as if you’ve won a match. Realization sinked in as you heard the boys snickered. Your face immediately went tomato red as you felt Ominis squirmed underneath you. You scrambled away from his lap, curling in the corner of the sofa and hiding your face behind a pillow.

“...Just let me disappear.” Your voice was muffled behind the pillow.

Ominis was the one who stopped laughing first, “I’m so sorry, Y/N, I genuinely thought it was too adorable to see you as a feline.”

Sebastian rubbed the tears from his eyes, “Oh, I agree, as much as I felt bad, I was enjoying it.”

You tossed the pillow at Sebastian, “you could’ve helped me earlier!”

Sebastian caught the pillow, setting it aside, “I’m sorry! Truly. But I did get you back, didn’t I?” he winked.

“How did you both know it was me?” You asked, still hitting Sebastian and Ominis with whatever pillow you could find.

“Y/N…” Ominis impressively dodged the hits, “We’ve spent everyday together, how could I not feel your aura even if you’re not human?”

“Oh, and here you go.” Sebastian handed your wand back, “Did the professor not tell you to keep it safe?”

You huffed as you calmed down, “Thank you. I mean it. I was scared I was going to cough up hairballs at some point.” You twiddled your thumb, blush spreading your cheeks, “Were you both… Looking for me?”

Ominis let out another laugh, “We were panicking around the castle,” he coughed, “Well, Sebastian panicked around the castle. He almost asked the Headmaster for a search party if I didn’t hold on to his collars. On the other hand, I am searching for you calm and collected.”

“Lies. He almost cried.”

Ominis’ face turned sour as you laughed at their antics. You held out your arms and hugged the two close, “Thank you, again, you both are always there for me.”

“It’s because we love you, Y/N.” Sebastian sighed in content as he stroked your hair.

Ominis placed his hand on your back gently, “You are the most important person in our lives.” A gentle smile plastered on his face.

You looked up at them. Their confessions were stern and confident, but your heart leapt as you saw how red their faces are - sincerity evident in their expressions. You hugged them even tighter, “I love you both so much.”

[friendofcars]

Please drop the essay you refrained from writing in the tags and would also love to hear your thoughts on the mask dream! I think it's one of the most interesting dreams ronan has, especially in tdt. Always really enjoy your thoughts and meta :)

hi so first of all thank you for this very kind message and second of all the 'essay' i mentioned was in fact about the mask dream. and third of all thank you for waiting for my belated response. i wrote the remainder of this post over multiple weeks and didn't proofread any of it and i'm almost positive it gets incoherent in places so please let me know if you want anything clarified.

so, the post i'm referencing is this one by parrishwife about adam and ronan's rather unhinged desire to simultaneously become and be with each other. i coincidentally read it immediately before reading chapter 17 of the dream thieves for the trc book club and my brain exploded a little because i think the mask nightmare plays with the same idea- not explicitly, and maybe not primarily, but there's an element of ronan both fearing and desiring the possibility of adam becoming ronan (or at least like ronan).

i think the most straightforward and plausible interpretation of this chapter is that ronan fears losing adam (to post-traumatic dissociation, to his bargain with cabeswater, as a rejection of ronan's desire for him, etc.) (btw parrishwife also has a brilliant post analyzing the mask dream.) i'm also suggesting that he has a simultaneous fear of adam reciprocating the attraction, which, for ronan, comes hand in hand with self-loathing; desire is fear, it is horror, it is anger; he fears rejection and miscommunication while also fearing that adam will experience self-hatred too. because ronan hasn’t realized his second secret yet, the fear/desire/self-loathing/projection is particularly muddled. This interpretation hinges on my observation that adam is profoundly ronan-like in the dream.

because of my complete inability to omit details, i’m going to put the meat of my observations + analysis under a cut:

first, before i write an absurdly long response, here was my initial comment in the trc book club server after reading the chapter:

and my follow up after some discussion:

and now after musing on this chapter for the past month, here’s a more detailed analysis, almost line by line:

first, in the dream, we're told that “the mask was his father's.” it's ambiguous as to whether niall dreamt, made, or bought the mask, but it's as if ronan has inherited the mask (along with the secret keeping, dreaming, perceived imbalanced devotion in romantic relationship, etc.). the important detail, aside from mask, of course, is father: a) ronan's self-hatred, grief, and depression are directly tied to guilt over niall's murder, all of which inform the way he dreams, unguided and alone, b) adam's bargain with cabeswater kicks off a plot that serves as a metaphor for adam's healing from trauma from his own father, which informs the way he isolates and hides himself from others and c) here we have two boys, traumatized by their fathers in different ways but still with the consequence of repression, with ronan fearing that adam will break/succumb to the fallout of his dual sacrifices (pressing charges and leaving the trailer/giving up his hands and eyes to cabeswater). i mention all of this to start drawing connections between ronan and adam's experiences, how they relate to one another, and how in which ronan's self-hatred manifests in a concern for adam ending up hating himself too (becoming [like] ronan).

we can also consider the setting of the dream: the original mask is at the barns, out of reach in multiple ways (hung high on the wall, on a property from which ronan is banned, and his subconscious won't let him return home in his dreams either) but the consequences of the dream do lead him back to the barns (he manifests the night horrors, which he buries at the barns with his friends; enlisting gansey to help literally kill his demons and everyone else to dispose of the bodies brings him home- it's something he can't do alone -> recurring fear of isolation, the magic of connection, etc.). but ronan already has access to the apartment at st. agnes- adam already lets him sleep there, on the floor, and he's only there in the first place because ronan helped him move there. ronan plays an active role in establishing and maintaining the apartment as adam’s home. and in the dream, the mask is at eye level, both within reach (and, of note, probably where you'd hang a mirror). greater proximity to ronan = greater risk of adam realizing (and reciprocating, or mirroring) ronan's attraction towards him.

all of this is to say that ronan's subconscious is asking him: what if adam was within reach? would you squander the opportunity? what if he's too far gone to cabeswater, out of reach in the wake of abuse? what if keeping adam close is putting him in danger? (there's a line about their changing proximity at the very end of the raven boys that i'm thinking about as i write this.) what if he falls and cuts himself on ronan?

like i mentioned, I think the more straightforward reading of the dream is ronan's fear of losing adam, whether via adam’s trauma responses/dissociation/bargain with cabeswater or as a rejection of ronan’s romantic interest. i'll try to be briefer here since i know it's been discussed (reading this a couple weeks later…i was not brief at all lol). shortly before the dream, cabeswater goes missing. due to the ambiguous consequences of adam's bargain with cabeswater, there's reason to fear adam will also disappear (or at least his hands and eyes, or what they represent -> his skill, his perception, his survival instincts, etc.). then there's the fear of the figurative consequence: adam disappearing in the sense that he completely withdraws and isolates himself from ronan and the others. gansey fears that adam's spirit will break; adam fears he will turn violent (which is why he withdraws). it's not clear which ronan fears, but it might as well be both, given the obscuring nature of the mask and adam's violence in the dream. i don't think ronan fears that adam will purposefully hurt him (given his prophetic refusal to hurt adam, even to save his own life) but he fears he will hurt adam by confessing feelings to him, or by trapping him in henrietta, etc.

in the dream, ronan tells opal (at this point, orphan girl) that cabeswater is gone, which triggers adam’s appearance in the dream (to emphasize the possibility of adam disappearing too). adam says, “far away isn’t the same thing as gone,” which is probably a rare display of optimism from ronan, especially as a counterpoint to the dreamt miniature white plane that is lost to the lake (this symbolizes the potential outcome of losing adam in the context of adam’s doubt/disbelief, which is dismantled by the end of the book when he figures out that ronan paid the rent and loves him, which coincides with ronan realizing he doesn’t hate himself, that the world will not end if adam knows how he feels, and thus the white nigh horror is born as a symbol of adam’s capability of belief in ronan and both of their acceptances of ronan’s feelings). whew.

we then get a description of adam in the dream. he's wearing his aglionby uniform, perhaps to represent a repressed adam hell bent on assimilation to pursue his ambition, but in my interpretation a detail that clues us into some mirroring/becoming of ronan. i'm specifically thinking of the flashback in trb chapter 20 in which adam recalls the catalyst for pursuing aglionby: a confident, affluent, friend-possessing aglionby kid who probably wasn’t but might as well have been ronan. as a counterpoint to the aglionby uniform, adam’s fingers are black with oil, an obvious nod to adam’s fear that his job as a mechanic and poverty betray his attempts at escaping his roots (side note- sacrificing himself to a sentient forest literally roots him further in henrietta/on the ley line), but i can’t help but draw a comparison between the oil mentioned here and nightwash- something we don’t even know whether ronan has canonically experienced yet, but still a visual parallel that signifies limiting, restricting factors in each of their lives (class, disability, etc.) that anchor them to henrietta. if this connection is a coincidence, which it very well could be, the shame both adam and ronan experience remains true in the text, in terms of adam feeling stained by his non-academic yet necessary-for-survival work and ronan’s complex relationship to dreaming. ronan also endures unmaking/nightwash in trk after adam, demon-possessed, chokes him and ronan has the same “will not choose hurting adam to evade death” experience, so this really does all connect in my “no coincidences in trc” brain.

adam takes the mask without asking permission nor hesitating, which seems out of character and ronan-like (read: impulsive), although adam does indeed reach for the mask without asking first when they visit the barns. in trb adam is constantly asking permission, clarifying invitations, hesitating, etc. until he makes his sacrifices, so perhaps ronan’s dream is exploring an adam that acts more and fixates on consequences less (which is quite ronan). the summative effect of these details is ronan’s perception of adam’s own insecurities, curiosities/introspection, etc.  which, perhaps unintentionally, make me simultaneously consider ronan’s own difficulty with reconciling his home life, identity, secrets, social position at school, etc. the touching without asking might also prod at a warped sense of intimacy for ronan, especially regarding the nature of ronan’s relationship with kavinsky, but i feel like i need to consider this perspective more before elaborating further.

then, adam holds the mask up to his face- nobody puts the mask on adam; it’s an autonomous choice. autonomy and choice are critical to both of their character arcs, especially in trb for adam and in tdt for ronan. then, adam “becom[es] something else” and the distinction between adam and the wooden mask dissolves as a nod to the concern that adam will become indistinguishable from cabeswater (also predominantly of wood). lots to comment on here: that adam must eventually accept that he isn’t cabeswater, much like he isn’t his father; adam becoming less human and ronan grappling with his human-ness/creature-ness, ronan grappling with the distinction between himself and his manifested dreams, which include cabeswater, etc. if adam is merging with cabeswater and cabeswater in its forest form is inherently an aspect of ronan/his heart/his soul/his mind… much to chew on, even if its founded on their insecurities. adam becoming a creature, like ronan; becoming magic or getting intertwined with it… also rolling around the concepts of a wooden mask, a wooden boy, lies (secrets), autonomy, atypical creation, etc. in my head and coming up with pinocchio which is probably absurd but. i had to admit this. ronan wanting to be a real boy (greywaren choosing humanity) is not not canon in td3. on adam seeming to be carved from wood, maybe a brief exploration of a fear of a lack of distinct identity (ronan fearing adam becoming cabeswater or a part of himself against adam’s wishes); Adam wants to be self-made, not made by anyone else…maybe references pygmalion, galatea, etc.

in the same paragraph, as adam becomes even less-adam like, his teeth become hungry, his jaw starves. teeth are frequently mentioned when describing the lynch brothers, and hunger is a predominant theme for both adam and ronan (“they were both hungry animals, but adam had been starving for longer), and chapter 11 of tdt loops in the gray man and the concept of a hungry knife; i'm not articulating this well but there’s something to say here about ronan being raised to think of himself as a weapon and him fearing adam will succumb to the same, and sharp teeth are the imagery by which i'm connecting these dots (?). adam’s eyes are “desperate and incensed.” he is not only afraid but angry (a very ronan combination of emotions), and the adjective “incensed” even links to ronan’s internal experiences being frequently described as fiery, burning, etc. a vein stands out from adam’s neck; veins stand out from ronan’s body later in the chapter when he’s awake but not yet back in his body. vulnerability, anger, desperation, tension, vitality. the physical parallels are numerous. or maybe just repetitive writing, but i read trc very generously in terms of assuming intention.

then, the dream becomes a nightmare. the mask becomes indistinguishable from adam’s face- anger like a second skin, second secret, tamquam alter idem, horror movie twins, double-headed night horror and all that- it’s a nightmare BECAUSE ronan could be into this (and by “this” i mean the conflation of adam returning his attraction and them becoming more and more like each other), and at this point in the narrative, this desire to be and to be with is obscured by ronan’s depression. adam is described as a creature, a word used to describe ronan too (a genuine compliment from gansey, but an alienating burden of a descriptor for adam and ronan). adam becomes a night horror, which, like cabeswater, is a manifestation of an aspect of ronan- like calls to like, and this is terrifying to ronan.

the night horrors are explicitly described as representations of ronan’s heart and are “in love with his blood and his sadness.” the word choice of “in love” when the night horrors are manifestations of self-hatred and depression and shame is more proof of ronan conflating desire + guilt. ronan’s heart is auto-cannibalizing. do you know what I’m trying to say. as a side note, the mentioned rhythm of ronan’s heartbeat works as a physiological and metaphorical tie to the very feeling of a nightmare. just some nice texture in the nightmare for me as a reader! re: adam, “adam was the horror now” -> adam has become inextricable from ronan/cabeswater/magic -> adam has become one with ronan’s self-hatred adam isn’t the horror for trying the mask on, he’s the horror for realizing and reacting to the mask (here i had a lightbulb moment and had to close my word doc to calm down lol)… and if we equate ronan himself to the mask (the teeth! the hunger! the eyes! a psychological prison only the prisoner can break!) and the nightmare is built upon this dream adam’s rage and terror at his union with the mask… we circle back to the two-headed fear of adam’s rejection AND reciprocation of ronan’s attraction. of course the merging of adam and ronan takes on a completely different connotation in greywaren when they are both eager to merge souls and their codependency and inability to maintain a stable reality without the other is… a lot to think about. Re: “toothful king” more teeth = lynch-like, as we’ve established, but ronan has also been described as a king in his dreamscape; this usually implies creative power but is that what Adam has here? maybe king is more intended to throw focus towards his power over ronan? also, in a ater paragraph, “tooth upon tooth upon tooth” makes me think of rows of teeth…which is sharklike. like the bmw (“if it was sharklike, it had learned how from [ronan]”.)

i'll also make a couple comments about the line “to think about it was to be immobilized with the horror of watching Adam be consumed from the inside out.” 1. the immobilization, whether literal or figurative, is notable in the context of ronan, who is often kinetic, restless, hyperactive, adrenaline-seeking, etc. but is also immobilized post-dream manifestation; taken together, ronan in motion and ronan frozen tell us that for ronan to stop moving and obscuring the secrets he hides in a maelstrom of posturing is to make him vulnerable- and this line is shortly before nightmare adam attacks him. to stay still is to look truth in the face and confess it and bear his heart to it- and his heart itself is the secret. ouroboros. i don’t know. also, cannibalism, probably. that's not really my wheelhouse but it’s in here a little bit. and ronan dreams creatures to love- chainsaw, matthew, opal. he's revulsed by the possibility of creating an adam that loves him, that is made of him or in his image, that lacks autonomy/mobility in relation to ronan.

then comes the violence. before it, ronan takes adam’s arm (as he does at the barns, later) and says his name- saying adam, not parrish, presumably, which is another marker of vulnerability. this line reminds me of “cabeswater: call it by name” or an act of creation, affirmation, that adam is adam (human, a man), and not a monster. despite this act of tenderness, of acknowledgment of independent identity, nightmare adam lunges for ronan while simultaneously trying to remove the mask from his own face (this brings me back to the idea of duality, violence vs. love wielded inwardly and outwardly, double edged swords, the two headed night horror, the self vs others, etc.). his fingers hook ronan the way the night horror hooks in the following chapter- a premonition that gets subverted with the eventual declaration of “claws and beak”/”unguibus et rostro.” adam's face is gone and the mask becomes invisible- the distinction between ronan’s feelings towards adam and adam’s feelings toward ronan is gone. however, perhaps condradicting what I literally just claimed (lol), ronan cannot kill bring himself to kill adam, even this nightmare version, but has not yet realized that he doesn’t want to kill himself either.

“the mouth gaped, door to bloody ruin.” the mouth, not adam’s mouth, not the mask’s mouth. disembodied. there's a whole thesis to write on adam’s relationship to his body and his dissociative experiences, the reintegration he experiences as he repairs the ley line, etc.  an open door, especially a door-like mouth, is a confessed secret (think of ronan’s closed door at monmouth), and here, a path to the worst possible outcome.

ronan removes the mask from adam and discovers that it’s easily removable, that the distinction between adam and the mask and that which it represents can be recovered simply and gently, but the removal still ruins adam. a petal peeled from a flower-he loves me, he loves me not… and the strange beautiful flowers ronan dreams… that love is beautiful and not inherently violent… something adam and ronan must individually learn for themselves. adam must distinguish himself from his trauma, from his family, from his bargain with cabeswater. his self-loathing creates an additional prison within the limiting circumstances of his poverty. but as gentle as the removal is, ronan’s heroic action still results in gore- his father’s, rather than his mother’s, account of his birth. adam is reduced to muscle, bone, teeth, eyeball- a collection of parts, but no holistically integrated face. a miracle of moving parts but gruesome. life leaks out of him like nightwash out of ronan. unmasking, confession, secrets you can’t take back, irreversible bargains… ronan says he’ll put the mask back on, will restore adam’s dignity and grant him a shield against vulnerability, but the damage is done. we get a rare “please” (“please work”) from ronan, maybe a prayer, maybe in the same vein of the “please” he thinks when he sees adam for the first time (cdth chapter 5).

and finally, the lab blood dna line around which i will talk in circles because I can’t do it justice, but after ronan wakes with the bloodied mask he wonders “whose dna…would a lab find in that blood?” this is THE merging of adam and ronan line imo that makes all of my tenuous claims that the nightmare is about adam becoming ronan hold actually hold water. it’s like if the narrator in kevin atwater’s my blood is your blood hated themselves and their partner too because their love felt like violence and guilt. and because both adam and ronan, due to their (father-related) trauma, struggle to distinguish between pain and attraction and desire and resentment, there’s an implication that reciprocated feelings between the two of them would also be mutually inflicted harm- that they’ll both make each other bleed. spring awakening word of your body. it reminds me of when dogs get into a fight and in the aftermath it’s hard to tell whose blood is whose, if one is bleeding or just covered in the other’s; ronan’s nightmare explores: who is capable of harming (loving) the other. because ronan’s refusal to harm adam as nightmare adam harms ronan is love, even if twisted up. ronan can’t extricate desire from violence at this point since he hasn’t woken up to his second secret yet (and undergone the character development required to realize it). the blood might as well be both of theirs.

Some other assorted details: the overlap between ronan’s self-hatred and his projection of this onto adam (ch 9: ronan had seen a face about to break in the mirror etc. terrible paraphrase but you know what i mean) so his nightmare is an exploration of him projecting onto adam; there’s a dual desire for adam/reciprocation but also a fear + assumption that adam is simultaneously terrorized by his own feelings (which tbh is not wrong) so adam being the horror in the nightmare is to say he’s Ronan since the horrors are an extension of Ronan’s depression, grief, guilt, etc. esp. regarding his faith and sexuality which are symbolized via the dreaming, and since ronan could not kill him (it wasn’t a choice! foreshadowing! he sees himself as a corrupting force on adam, etc.), ronan is eventually subconsciously led to the realization that he cannot kill himself either- he has to believe in himself (cheesy, but since the climax of tdt crucially involves adam’s belief in ronan and the dreaming and the second secret, it’s real) and to believe that his love for others is beautiful rather than dangerous, and that this love can be wielded back at himself too. “why do you hate you? I don’t. he woke up” is the same damn thing as “it was only for adam it had been a prison.” pretend i pasted in the spiral eyes emoji 1000 =x here. (adam’s own self-loathing, isolation, bargain w cabeswater, etc…. so very eight of swords. if only he would take the blindfold off etc.)

and this all ties back to the two headed night horror… tdt opening with ronan’s secrets and the plane and adam’s doubt in ronan’s dreaming and the first introduction of the black night horrors and the eventual acceptance of mirrored attraction or at least acknowledgement of ronan’s second secret and adam witnessing the manifestation of the white night horror which is double-headed and signifies both internal and external love/acceptance… i’m running out of steam here but it all ties together. it’s all connected I promise.

but in this chapter, before the plot of tdt plays out in full, we're left with the conclusion of what if adam reciprocates ronan's attraction? that's what he wants (this is why he pays the rent. this is why the dream is in the st. agnes apartment, where ronan has put adam.), but because at this point ronan can't differentiate between desire and self-loathing, adam wanting him back would make him a mirror of his desire and self-loathing, and the fear of this is explored in the nightmare. i hope this has made sense!

i think this was pretty comprehensive and perhaps too speculative but aside from opal's role in the dream, which i'm still thinking about, but i'd love to hear someone else's take on her in this chapter (or anything else about the mask nightmare!).

[deadboyfriendd]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ZcY1NWsOwk

I watched the whole thing only because I remembered that it's one of your favourite books. It sounds super interesting and I wanted to know your opinion on if you think the book is as difficult to adapt as the video claims

OH boy this is gonna be a long one, response under the cut!

CW: all of the blood and gore that happened in the old west, dead, violence, scalping, probably infant death (it happens in Blood Meridian) and some general critiques and praises of Blood Meridian.

First, I am absolutely TICKLED PINK that you thought of me and even remotely made my name synonymous with Blood Meridian. Literally screeching giggling and kicking my feet.

I will say, you will see the most of Blood Meridian's influence in Bisbee, namely with the Sheriff's past. I do plan on writing him as hardened because of a very similar run-in with the texas-mexican border around that time frame. I plan on capturing the same amount of blood and violence as the book, but not necessarily in the same scope. I want it to be much less flowery than its Cochise counterpart. Bisbee will still be a love story, but way more drenched in blood.

Firstly, I want to talk about the prose in Blood Meridian because, no matter how much praise I can give the book, it was DIFFICULT to read and follow. I do want to do another re-read in the future and quite possibly listen to it as an audiobook to soak it up one more time. Blood Meridian can be best described as a consciousness told by "the kid". It reads like the main character, an uneducated, neglected, fourteen-year-old boy and not as a seasoned western author, but is simultaneously SO VIVID and deliciously rich that I literally devour it like that scene in Ratatoullie where Remi is sampling fruit and cheese together and the flavors manifest as swirly colors in his brain. DELICIOUS. A lot of people DNF this book for this reason, but, creatively, I think it pushed the boundary of what can be considered prose and was really, really interesting- even if it took all of my brainpower to read.

The next thing I wanted to talk about was the comparison to Deadpool and Wolverine (which I haven't seen yet, oops), filmed in the traditional hollywood continuity style. I am not much of a film buff and don't know much about film other than the one class I took in community college. If you want to talk more in depth about film @dr-aculaaa is totally your person! I think if we were to see an adaptation of this book as a film, it would need to be exactly as the prose is: completely unorthodox. I think in this new age of cowboy/western popularity, people are going to want to taylor sheridan-ify it. They're going to want to make it something like a western melodrama like Horizons or 1883, where there still very much is an underlying theme being pushed kind of overtly. I personally think that, if someone was going to attempt it, they would need to take a step back from this new kind of western style, and take a look at Iñárritu. I would like to see it done as something more similar to The Revenant. A historical recount, much more of a stream of consciousness than Costner or Sheridan have done, and with that really blunt brutality. Iñárritu didn't sugar-coat the violence in that. He let the viewer see it at a face-value. Iñárritu is also a big fan of the human condition and psychological drama, which is what would MAKE a film adaptation. I think people are pooling Blood Meridian with Westerns and are wanting to tell it as a western story, when, in reality, the mass appeal to it comes from it being a violent, gory, borderline splatter-punk novel, in a historical western setting.

This is where I have kind of been struggling with it. In Bisbee, I am not necessarily trying to embody McCarthy's prose, but more embody his ideal for vivid storytelling within violent horror scenes in a way that feels correct to me and equates to the brutality in the book. My biggest problem is my own desensitization of gore and violence. For a while there, I was reading so much splatter punk (about 2-3 novels a week depending on the size) that I was literally just dead-eyeing pages as people were being scalped and dismembered. Things don't really make my stomach churn anymore, and now I'm struggling to write these kinds of terrifying, gross descriptions that do what I need them to do, (that, and also coming up with the act of violence itself) while trying to tie in that underlying theme of love in the wild west. These characters are being molded and unmolded and then remolded all over again as I attempt to write this, and I think this ask and that video kind of helped me take a step back and realize that I'm writing it as a western and not as a horror.

I've said this in previous asks, my great granddad was a published western author. He died of complications of polio when my grandma was 13, so I never got to meet him. But I have his writing, and, oddly enough, he wrote like me. And unfortunately, Cormac McCarthy has also passed away in recent years so now I have absolutely no one to ask about writing westerns and melding psychological/body horror with the Wild West, so this is a frontier I will have to brave myself.

Thank you SO SO much for picking my brain, anon! I haven't had to critically think about my reading or my writing in a long time now and this got the train moving again on the production of Bisbee!

Love you and kissing you on the mouth

PS, sorry if this read like a stream of consciousness from me because I was literally keysmashing this whole time trying to pull all of these thoughts into a coherent thing LMAO

[merakiui]

Mera! I'm losing track of the days lol, but so long as i send an ask a week, i think i should be okay 😂

Also feel free to post your hsr hair thoughts bc i love to read your rambles as much as your fics! I'm looking forward to the jade one and him imitating floyd is really amusing. I like to think jade has a sort of pride about him where he loathes being compared to floyd but also jokes it off when someone does or when someone mistakes them, so i can imagine his pride and ego taking a hit but he endures it for sake of reader. Almost like he gets addicted to acting like floyd bc everyone likes floyd better anyways, right? So why not give the people what they want! He receives such a positive response when he acts like floyd that it rewires the hurt in his brain and suddenly the thing he hates is now cathartic for him but theres still that underlying hurt underneath >.<

BUT thats not why im here hehehe, for this weeks questionnnnn......

Who do you think would be the 'final girl' in a slasher film from each dorm? And then if u can, who do you think would be the ultimate survivor? You can optionally bestow the other titles; the virgin who lives but is hurt, the killer in hiding and the idiots who are the first to go, etc :D i read a yandere slasher fic here on tumblr where reader goes into a cabin with her friends and they get killed off one by one until the yandere presumably fucks reader and it has me back in my horror phase 😅 just pretend its Halloween in june, like xmas in july hahaha

-🐔 anon!!!!

:D hi hi 🐔!!!! Thank you for enjoying my writings and ramblings and for your interest in the upcoming Jade fic!! He'd do anything for you, even if it means he has to endure bittersweet pain just to see you smile. >_< all he wants is a chance with you and he gets that when he acts as Floyd. It may be uncomfortable and it may chip away pieces of his pride as an individual, but you laugh at his jokes and look at him like he's the only one in your world. He'll do whatever he can just to receive a crumb of your affection, even if it's all meant to be reserved for Floyd. Aaaa I love writing this version of Jade!!!! He's just so interesting and obsessed!! orz

Ooooo final girls from each dorm!!! That's such a fun question. Here are my thoughts!!! ^w^

Heartslabyul's final girl would be Cater. He's so perfect for the final girl trope! You think he might die first because he's pretty and can't let go of his phone for the life of him, but when he gets serious he can be very cutthroat. <3 the idiotic duo would have to be Ace and Deuce. Deuce hears a strange noise and wants to check it out because he's definitely not scared of demons or killers and he'll beat up anything that tries to hurt him and his friends. Ace thinks he's trying to prank him, but he begrudgingly follows him, thinking it's either nothing and Deuce is trying to scare him or it'll just turn out to be something with a completely natural explanation. It's neither, and while they're both bickering the killer looms from behind. Riddle is the logical one who tries to put everything into perspective and figure out a logical reason behind everything. Trey is, unsurprisingly, the mom friend who just wants everyone to stay in one place because hopefully the authorities will show up soon (they never will).

Savanaclaw's final girl is Ruggie. He's resourceful and cunning; you think he may die first, but he's actually very good at survival. He'll live, but he comes out of the horrific night covered in blood after he's just fought the killer to the death. Jack is your typical jock, kind-hearted and caring, who doesn't believe in any of that ghost stuff or horror movie trope stuff, but when it becomes too real he gets even more serious than before, determined to survive and protect those close to him. Leona strikes me as the type who, upon the first sign of something suspicious or dangerous, promptly leaves. He will not be swept up in any murder plots, no thank you. <3 either that or he sleeps through it all and the killer thinks he's dead at first glance LOL.

Octavinelle's final girl would be Floyd. As goofy as he is, he's also another cutthroat guy who can and will survive. He may throw himself directly at danger, but somehow he always comes out of it alive. Jade is your typical killer-in-hiding. You won't suspect him until it's too late, and by then nearly half the cast is dead. Azul is the type who acts like an ally to everyone, but he's secretly either plotting with the killer or planning to sacrifice everyone in order to save himself.

Scarabia's final girl is Jamil. Most of his decisions are made solely to protect Kalim (who naturally is the comedic relief/carefree friend who is just too sweet for this world), but there's a build-up in this movie where the plot twist is that Jamil ultimately ends up tricking Kalim. Is it possible for both him and Jamil to survive? Perhaps, but this isn't that kind of movie. :) and from the bloodshed, Jamil emerges, alive, exhausted, and traumatized. (Or I could also see Jamil as a killer-in-hiding and Kalim as the final girl; it fits either way in my mind hehe!! :D)

Pomefiore's final girl is either Epel or Vil. It's hard to choose just one of them for the trope because I feel like it can fit them both in different ways. Rook is obviously the killer-in-hiding or he's just that really unnerving character who happens to know too much about how a killer thinks. >_< Vil as a final girl would be so cool because I think he can also be quite cutthroat. He's the character type who spends most of his focus on himself throughout the movie, yet he still manages to survive. How, you may ask? He weaponized various beauty products or, my most favorite idea, he fought the killer in heels and won, by which the heels absolutely became his weapon. >:) Epel as a final girl would be somewhat surprising because he's the character who no one really expects to live because he's "so petite and cute and omg how will he ever survive the big, scary killer!!!!" D: but then Epel shocks everyone when he ends up arming himself with brass knuckles or a baseball bat to go hunt down the killer himself.

Ignihyde's final girl is Idia, but then he also fits into the loser nerd category. Idia as a final girl is a little frustrating because he spends the entire movie being prideful and rude to the other characters, so everyone sort of wants him to be killed off first because he's so unlikable. But because Idia's seen all of these tropes before and knows his way around a horror movie, he ends up surviving. Ortho survives as well, but then I can also picture him being something of a sci-fi horror villain (i.e. technology becomes bad and targets humans). It's something like in book six where he was giving the students little tests in order to advance to the next level. Just a little villainous and devious!

Diasomnia's final girl is Silver. The stress of the situation manages to keep him awake, and so he's mainly in survival mode for the entirety of the film. Silver does his best to protect everyone, even putting himself at risk if it means he can save his friends. Sebek likely puts up a good fight, but he's far too stubborn and can't be quiet to save his life, so he ends up getting killed. I feel like Lilia could be a killer-in-hiding, or he's just the mischievous trickster type. Malleus could also be a killer-in-hiding, or he's the trope of "misunderstood character with a reputation that is solely rumors who turns out to be quite sweet and helpful to the main character."

[agent-cupcake]

*read horrorshow the nth time*

do you have any fav horror movies to recommend?

I've probably recommended all of these before but here we go again with the bad takes! Wahoo! OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD

The Exorcist - my most favorite horror movie ever. I don't think a lot of people find the actual spooky ghosty stuff scary (unsettling for sure) but the characters are next level and the production and acting are unmatched. Ellen Burstyn's performance as a mother losing her mind trying, and failing, to save her daughter is haunting. It also lead to me doing my best Greek grandmother impression whenever I say Dimi, so there is that.

Jacob's Ladder - an inspiration for the first Silent Hill, this movie portrays unreality as well as Perfect Blue. It's super disorienting and impactful, I watched it coming out of a project focusing on the Vietnam War and... yeah, it's pretty miserable. Although there is a lot of horrific imagery, t's a genuinely heart-breaking film in some places. The core of horror is trauma, right?

Hereditary - the ending is pretty scary, but the thing that stands out in this movie is how miserable it is. Like with the previous two I wouldn't recommend it on the fear factor, it's more of a character deconstruction through the lens of a horrifying situation. Alex Wolff's character is masterfully written and executed. Obviously I've never dealt with such severe trauma, but his response and mental decline is very relatable.

Midsommar - It's the cult movie. People say it's boring, I disagree, but it's not really scary either. More... uncomfortable. I love that the protagonist is already in such a vulnerable and destructive state. Like she's just not doing well. It's been a huge inspiration in my own writing, and Florence Pugh is lovely. Like with Anya Taylor-Joy, it was interesting to see her get so popular after being a contentiously reviewed horror movie.

Blair Witch Project - who hasn't seen this? It remains at the very top of the found footage genre for a reason, the entire thing is amazing. People say it's lost its luster with the oversaturation, but I disagree, the acting and style of the OG sets it apart.

The Witch - the first thing I ever saw Anya Taylor-Joy in before she was everywhere. Solid movie, it uses all period accurate dialogue. It's not my favorite from a horror standpoint, but the scenario alone is sickening enough to be a selling point. The dad character's actor has a nice voice, don't @ me.

Perfect Blue - there is nothing I could say about Perfect Blue that hasn't been said before, but it is a masterpiece. Watch it. If you like animation, if you like psychological studies, if you like feeling real icky, watch it. Just do it.

Se7en - more of a thriller I suppose, but it definitely works as a horror. It's up there with my faves and is another movie that's been an inspiration in my writing.

It Follows - I mention this because I was listening to the soundtrack, but its a beautifully shot film with a very strong aesthetic vision. It's the "demon STD" movie, which is dumb and imo pushes some really harmful narratives about STD's and I'd say that the far more impactful reading is sexual trauma.

Suspiria (2018) - I'm not one for body horror but there's a scene in this that just... woah. I've never seen the original but I know the new one is very different, and it's amazing. I might be alone in this but it's a shame Dakota Johnson is in such trash movies because I think she's so cute.

The Shining - another classic that must go on this list because it is, unironically, just that good. Shelley Duvall deserved better, that's a fact. That her performance was so fantastic is astounding to me. It's funny that people say that her reaction is unrealistic when that was her genuine reaction to being put in a traumatic situation. Amazing film, she is a star.

I'm definitely missing some movies but such is the way my brain doesn't work. Thank you for your time <3

[riftwalker-limbro]

as someone who finds the concept of age as a hierarchy IRL interesting ("i'm the elder sibling, you should listen to me", "respect your elders"), a game like warframe REALLY fucks with my perception of how-things-should-be

because you have

trauma child whose physical age is somewhere between child & late teenager (citation Needed) but who is actually >1000 years old but who has perhaps spent a single percent of those awake. fan theory has these kids as no longer aging physically due to sat-too-long-in-my-cryopod-syndrome

trauma adults(?) who were physically transformed into the ideal soldier. do they age? do they eat? do they sleep? did they go into a similar 1000 year old cryosleep? (my canon says yes but depending on the frame & headcanons you go with your mileage may vary outRAGEOUSLY, including but definitely not limited to alive for a while -> cryosleep for a bit -> literally dead and in pieces -> reassembled????)

some people who are entirely unaccounted for for those full 1000 years. were they awake? hanging out somewhere? also in some kind of slumber?

drifters.

and like, 3 being in charge of 1 is reasonable. before the Millenium of Fuckery, they were already adults. now, they are like. super adults. them being responsible makes sense.

but somehow, all (of my) first-instinct interpretations of the relationship between group 2 and 1 places 1 in charge of 2. this feels super wrong bc they are children.

so i've been contemplating the finer details of this for my canon. and they are as follows.

tenno had the mental maturity of children/late teens when the zariman oopsie happened. i'm hc'ing my kelth at like 17 to still be below the MITW's seemingly arbitrary Going Murderously Nuts limit but i have certain skills i want them to have before the jump (coding, you'll find out).

then, due to all the cryosleep business, their bodies get frozen that way. they get fucked up beyond repair biologically. are they now functionally immortal? i think that would be a fantastic horror cherry on warframe's trauma sundae.

but what's their mental state like? their adolescent brains frozen like that? imagine being a permanent teenager. the idiot hormones. and at the same time, they're going through all the horrors of war, being manipulated by almost all adults in their life (margulis is on thin fucking ice) for one purpose or another. did they know their life was hanging on by a jurisdictional thread until it was discovered they alone could reliably control warframes? wouldn't that have fucked with their mental state horribly? but at the same time, they must've been somewhat distanced from it - they went through so many battles but through piloting the body of another, it was never their own neck on the line, or the necks of the other tenno, not directly.

i think tenno must be mentally mature in some ways, like Horrors of War, but absolutely not in others, like emotional. they could have great strategic capabilities, but processing a small slight would happen with out-of-proportion swearing of vengeance and very little rationality. they are masters of combat, but not of their own mental state.

let's briefly discuss warframes before combining these thoughts. there is an absolute wealth on 1. different frames with different canon backstories both before & after the helminth 2. absolutely fantastic headcanons. so a few differences here are:

original role: part of one of the soldier castes, someone else somehow in direct service to the Orokin Empire, or common public?

intent: did not want to become a warframe but was forced, did want to become a frame, was completely tricked into becoming a warframe without even making their opinion known, and Oops (e.g. my vince)

as you can see, breeding grounds for a variety of mental states here, but i've never really heard of a child warframe - did we finally find the limits of orokin cruelty? - so for this post i'm assuming they were all adults pre-warframification

so you have a tenno, who is emotionally still a child but due to exactly that + their expertise in decidedly unchildlike things such as the art of war they can act like the most seasoned veteran. and you have warframes, who likely were used to following higher-ups' orders, who maybe never even see their Operator in the flesh.

when i put it like this, i am happy, because that way, it makes sense to me that warframes would obey tenno as they generally do. i am mentally putting umbra in the "yeah this does not apply to you, have a biscuit & some tea" corner, but only because he's the only sentient frame in canon and i personally disagree with that. the problem, for me, arises like. post-second-dream. sentient warframe suddenly realizes they've been taking directions from a child for so long.

worse, sentient warframe realizes they've allowed a child to bear the burden of their own pain and trauma for so long. a warrior and wise for their years, but still a child.

my own thoughts kind of run out here. but i will be rotating this more.

[skeletonsloverockcandy]

After having read the synopsis for the Magnus Protocol on the kickstarter, the brain worms are starting to kick in oooo I’m so excited

It clearly takes place Somewhere Else in a universe where Jonah Magnus existed but perhaps was not supernatural as this Institute was based in Manchester not London, and burned down in 1999, the same year there was supposedly a mass statement leak in the TMA universe. And this follows the work of Office of Incident Assessment and Response, some sort of civil government service organization in England with the characters Alice and Sam, our new main characters, dealing with the “legacy” of the Archives “almost 25 years after it burned down” and will put them in “grave danger”.

This being a world that is Somewhere Else, it means that it previously had no Entities and now it has Entities, so I think that’s what the grave danger will be, and Jonny and Alex have said that we may here some old voices, but not in the way we expect.

So here’s what I’m positing, my theory, one might say, tho I see it more as a possible fanfic idea than a likely turn of events:

Wouldn’t it be awesome if this government agency stumbled onto some of Jon’s tapes from the TMA universe that were brought over with the entities by the Spider, and this Incident response team was like “welp, that doesn’t make any sense, this is dated 2016-18 and the Magnus Institute burned down in 1999” and so they have to form a protocol for when they find these tapes. What if they’re like Lietners in this universe, at the very least in the concept of someone having something named after them even if they didn’t cause the phenomenon, like the books for example? Or what if they DO cause supernatural phenomena to happen? Then that’s really interesting because then there are consequences 😈 and Bad Things Happening. I think then anything supernatural that happens after these tapes are found will be linked to the Magnus Institute or the tapes by proxy, since this world has no prior experience with this level of supernatural phenomena, and so the government needs a solution, or a protocol for these things, if you will, and thus The Magnus Protocol is born.

Now say that our main cast of characters from TMA all still exist in this universe, but never joined the institute because it burned down. So they could be walking about their normal lives, none the wiser and working normal jobs not accosted by Fear Entities. Now imagine these tapes, if they appear, do not appear in order, and so now there is a mystery a foot, and quite frankly some disturbing things to put to rest in these “statements”. And so they investigate, and find that one Mr. Jonathan Sims lives in London working as a researcher or museum curator or publicist or actor or band member or coffee barista or whatever his job may be in this new world, and take him in for questioning.

Imagine how juicy that would be, here is this Sims, none the wiser to supernatural entities or horrors, and then some shady government agents take him in without telling him why, and 2 low level agents come in, trying to keep stoic and cool, but are just a little bit spooked when they look at him and know who he is. Now Jon is here really confused and he starts asking why he’s here, is he in trouble, etc., and they say they just want to ask him some questions. They ask him if he’s ever been to or worked at the Magnus Institute, and he says no, what’s that? Or didn’t that burn down? I was 8-9 at the time so obviously not, that’s impossible. His captors share a glance and then pull out a tape recorder asking if he could please explain this then please. He is like, what. You want me to talk into that old thing? It looks ancient. Are you sure it even works? And they’re like, oh we’re sure Mr. Sims. And we don’t need you to talk into it, just listen. And they press play. And say, maybe the Spider still has a soft spot for old Jon here, and isn’t above inflicting some old terror in a new way. So say the statement they pull is MAG 81, A Guest for Mr. Spider. So this Jon, wildly confused and now beginning to get scared, hears his voice on the other end, describing accurate details of his childhood, and an incident that never happened, and wait is that Georgie? He knows Georgie, he dated her in uni, and he’s on the run for framed murder?? Jon is agape, but recovers and begins angrily demanding if this is some sort of prank, who set this up, it isn’t funny, how did they get his voice? And he’s scared. The 2 agents, Alice and Sam, glance at one another again and tell him that’s what they would like to know. They have dozens of these tapes with his voice on them, dated from 2016-18, and claiming he’s the Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, and Mr. Sims, if this is some sort of elaborate game, or ARG, or fiction project of his, they would like to know that now so they can put this to rest, because if these are real… then that presents a whole new challenge, doesn’t it? When it’s clear Jon doesn’t know anything, they let him go, but he’s shaken badly by the incident, wondering if he has a doppelgänger out there somewhere impersonating him, but if that’s the case, how did they know so many personal details about his childhood and his grandmother? Given a bit of time to think, I think he would try to do some investigating of his own, maybe discover what this Other Him had to say on these tapes or where they came from or what they mean, maybe return to this organization and ask if he can listen to more of the tapes or try to help in their investigation. Or else go full on season 2 full paranoid Jon mode and begin questioning if anyone he knows is in on this as well. Either way, this presents a fabulous opportunity for reoccurring side character Jonathan Sims! Head of nothing and not the Archivist :) would love to see him get brought in again for breaking and entering into a place he was trying to investigate to look for clues and Alice and Sam just get slowly used to his shenanigans and like “Oh Sims is in again.” “3rd time this week?” “You know, I’m really regretting bringing him in for questioning the first time.”

Anyway that’s my idea, I think it would be great :)))

[voxofthevoid]

i shall ask once more. \o/ 12, 26, 39 (is there another snippet in stock, void-sama?) and 55! <3

Welcome back 💚

List of questions here

(I should start keeping a list of things people call me on Tumblr...)

12. How does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

Like I said in response to another of these questions, I am not immune to having expectations...which have admittedly been skewed by hanging around in MCU/stucky (guys, you spoiled me).

Receiving feedback makes me happy, often derangedly happy. There's that simple pleasure in sharing something I made—something I put a lot of time, effort, and joy into—and seeing it have an effect on other people. There's a reason I reread my comments (and Tumblr tags, when applicable) a zillion times.

Not receiving it is predictably disappointing, though the intensity varies a lot with my level of investment in the fandom/ship and, more importantly, the particular story. You know those jokes about how the fics we work most on and are most proud of tend to be less well received than something we throw together in a hurry? Yeah, that's always an...interesting experience.

What feedback doesn't affect is whether I write or what I write. This wasn't the case until last year or so, but now, nearly everything I post is already fully written and being posted on a monthly schedule. It spares me from being discouraged in the middle of writing a fic. Similarly, darkfic tends to not be as popular as fluff or even hurt/comfort, but literally nothing else sparks up my brain like some gourmet fuckery, so nothing's going to make me stop writing those stories.

...holy shit, that got long.

26. Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

THE FUCKING KIDNAPPING FIC

I cannot tell you how weird/wild it is that this thing unraveled the way it did. I know I post a lot of multichapters for JJK, but I don't really consider them multichaps as such. More like...six-shots or something (don't ask). I was content poking at porny bits of canon divergence scenarios.

And then @nearalways asked one(1) question: What'd have happened if Yuuji had chosen not to be Sukuna's host when Gojou tells him to choose his hell? We'd also been talking a lot about how dead-eyed and done Yuuji looked in most of his middle school-era flashbacks. Long story very short, I wrote a 119k answer that has done irreparable damage to my sanity and irrevocably changed how I write Gojou in particular.

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

I always have snippets! Especially since I've got some...300k of JJK fic I haven't even posted yet. You can find it under the cut.

55. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

Yuuji, hands down. The whole reason I'm even in this fandom is because I adore that kid. I haven't been this fascinated by a shonen MC in ages. Me being me, this does mean I put him through unimaginable horrors though!

And no, not at all. You, uh, might notice that I tend to be very set in my opinions 😂

Snippet here:

Yuuji yanks at the hand pinning him down.

There’s a moment where it works. Gojou’s fingers loosen, and his whole rhythm falters, and Yuuji almost, almost frees himself, wholly intent on flipping them over, but then there’s a soft breath of laughter, and a second hand clamps down on the wrist Yuuji has nearly wrenched free.

He makes a furious final attempt, throwing the whole of his strength into it, but this time, Gojou’s hold doesn’t waver for even a second. He’s grinning down at Yuuji, the devil on his lips.

“Devious,” Gojou tells him; it sounds like a compliment. “You’ve grown stronger, Yuuji—much, much stronger.”

And that sounds like pure sex.

Yuuji’s hips buck up helplessly, and Gojou bears down against him, pinning him there too.

“Clearly,” Yuuji hisses through clenched teeth, “not enough.”

“I’m a different kind of beast,” Gojou says easily. His eyes grow heavy-lidded. “But one day soon, Yuuji, you’ll be able to hurt me. Really hurt me. Won’t that be fun?”

Yuuji’s brain is abruptly yanked away from his dick and shoved back into his skull. “What? No! I don’t want that!”

“Of course you do,” Gojou says, laughing. “You will. It’s alright. I’ll let you.”

“Gojou-sensei—”

“But that’s for later. What do you want right now, Yuuji?”

“You,” Yuuji says incredulously, a thousand meanings packed into that one word.

Gojou’s eyes narrow, a different kind of heat than the look he shot Yuuji before. “Don’t cop out on me now. What were you going to do, Yuuji?”

“Fucking—” Yuuji lifts his head just to slam it down on the mattress; it’s not satisfying at all. “I want to fucking touch you! What else!”

“Cute,” Gojou says, his smile growing wider and more unhinged at Yuuji’s growl. “Where, Yuuji? How? I’ve only been gone for nineteen days, but you already forgot the game. I trained you better than this.”

[beneathcandycoatedclouds]

I've been thinking so much about act 3 and how rushed the ending feels. I know the whole point is for everything to get really intense at the end - but for me it felt super rough to just have 4 hours worth of straight fighting for your life followed by 20 min of your companions leaving you with no discussion. (Thoughts and proposed different ending below the cut)

I think act 1 and 2 finished so strong. We all love the tiefling party and the conversations you can have with everyone at camp. It's relaxed, it's closure to that part of the game. You have a chance to shenanigans and fun.

Act 2 ending felt like less of a slog, and a lot of interesting ways to pace it out. You have the first phase of Kethric's battle (along with all the juicy dialogue options there) and then you decend into the pit, and there are a couple battles or conversations, there is the juicy bit with Zevlor and the other people in the pod, saving Mizora - amid all of this, there are different things happening and there is the lovely pacing as you discover more information about the people of the world and your companions. There is Balthezar's area with the different minds and the resonance stone, there is the brain puzzle and the mind flayer relief statue, things are still moving but you have time to breathe and digest this new information and the horrors committed at moonrise. THEN there is the neat animation when you catch up with Kethric, the response of your companions to Gortash and Orin, all culminating in a cool fight against Kethric/Myrkul's avatar. And then even more info from your guardian!

But the end of act 3 is just so so so so rushed. Depending on the route you choose Lae'zel just LEAVES? We just saved the day and you're my friend and now you're leaving? Yes you should go fight for your people but can we like. Have one last camp night? Can we have a drink first?

So I propose a new ending; one last camp, one last party, after some of those fun cutscenes. But I think this exhausted crew just needs to eat and party for a moment before launching into the next thing. They've been going so hard for so long, let them rest! Let them have a night to finally digest what it means that most of them will be going their separate ways!

The final camp could even be something in a half demolished pub or tavern. It could have your companions, all hanging out, who you can challenge to drinking games with constitution saving throws, or even playing a game of lance board. You should have an option for a friendly ending scene with the characters you didn't romance for a final night to be besties. Talking about feelings or doing related friend activities specific to them. Talking to the allies you've gathered along the way and those that survived the fight. Then, after you've enjoyed everything there is to enjoy, you click on a bedroll and the notification comes up that says something like "going to sleep will finish your adventure. Are you ready?"

THEN the cutscene with your lover, if applicable. Would love best friend options too. I think it would help the splitting of the party feel more intentional and less rushed, along with giving a way to break up the ending cutscene where you go through all your companions and their futures rapid fire.

What would you want to see at the tavern party?

[spuffybot]

I put this together for my friends but thought some of you might enjoy!


Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin
This book will make you want to vomit but I promise you won’t be able to put it down. Following a pandemic that turns anyone with too much testosterone into a raging, murderous cannibal, two trans women try to get by amid depleting sources of hormones, a rising terf army, and the usual post apocalyptic problems. This book is witty, gruesome, and thought provoking. I loved every repulsive second. Felker-Martin is a clever writer with a knack for horror and her observations about humanity and the current state of gender politics are cutting.

Hell Followed with Us by Andrew Joseph White
I seem to have read a lot of queer pandemic horror this year but luckily for me it’s all been stellar. This expertly written YA post apocalyptic nightmare explores a world where religious extremists have decided the only way to save the planet and fulfill gods will is to wipe out the human race. The virus they unleash turns everyone it infects into a grotesque monster, one I won’t describe because you should read the book and also I don’t want to be blamed for making anyone sick. Benji is on the run from the cult responsible for the virus because they’ve selected him for a special mission he isn’t sure he wants to complete. When he stumbles upon a rag tag band of survivors hiding out at the local LGBTQIA+ Center he is forced to decide who he wants to be. I loved this book so much. YA is a tricky genre but this book managed to lean into the hallmarks while also being challenging and thought provoking. It’s also EXTREMELY gory. 

Maurice by E.M Forster
Despite thinking A Room with A View is an absolute classic, I had no idea this novel existed. Written in 1914, Maurice is about a young well off man who grapples with his sexuality and place in society. The book wasn’t actually published until 1971 because Forster feared it would damage his career. For much of the time it existed, novels that ended well for gay characters were prohibited. The Price of Salt gets a lot of recognition for similar reasons and if you’ve read that, I highly recommend reading this! This book is beautiful and flawed and a must read for anyone interested in queer lit and queer history. 

Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex by Angela Chen
Honestly if you read anything in 2023 please read this book. Wow. This is one of those books that has the potential to unlock something in your brain and change your worldview for the better. I’d never given much thought to asexuality. Plenty of people question their sexual identity, with more young people than ever before openly rejecting heterosexuality in favor of things that feel more authentic to who they are. Less people question sexuality in general. If you’ve never felt confused about whether or not you are interested in sex, why would you? This book invites all of us to question the things we’ve been taught about sexuality: about what consent really means, what being sexual means for you as an individual, and how society has shaped our expectations around sex in relationships. Author Angela Chen does an excellent job of exposing our preconceived notions about sex and breaking down what’s truly innate versus what we’ve been taught to be true. This is absolutely a book I would recommend to everyone.


Girlhood by Melissa Febos

I lied, if you read any book in 2023, let it be this one. Idk maybe just read all of these books. How about that? elissa Febos' powerful memoir / dissection of female adolescence under the patriarchy is genuinely essential reading. It’s beautifully written, seamlessly blending complex theory with personal narrative in a way that makes convoluted subjects effortlessly readable. I suggest taking your time with this one and really sitting with some of the things she talks about. I found this book relatable, triggering, and eye opening. Febos analyzes how being sexualized transformed the way she moved through the world. The freedom and fearlessness she experienced growing up was forever changed when the world went from viewing her as a child to viewing her as a girl. Her chapters on consent are revolutionary and will change the way you think about a lifetime of sexual and non sexual encounters. This is the kind of book that opens your mind to new ideas and new ways of coping with your experiences.

[rabbit-exe]

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

tagged by the generally very cool and good @argyleheir for purposes of question-answering; here we go baybeeeee

1. Are you named after anyone? technically! it's not actually anyone I knew well, but my first instance of hearing what would become my name (rowan) was some random boy that lived in my neighbourhood. so, changeling-like, I stole it from him without remorse.

2. When was the last time you cried? I don't remember, I don't really keep track - more than a week ago, I guess, because I don't remember doing it recently.

3. Do you have kids? no, and I do not ever intend to! I don't dislike children with any great degree of vitriol, it's just not a responsibility I'm keen to take on.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? a fair bit, but only in a playful, bastardly manner.

5. What sports do you play/have played? I used to do horse-riding, before my entire body decided to really lean into the chronic illness.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people? I don't. as soon as I encounter a person my brain retains no information about them at all because I'm trying to figure out how to interact with them successfully and not say something weird, which is a problem, because I have an internal clock that counts down whenever I'm in a social situation and when it hits zero I inevitably say something weird.

7. What's your eye color? grey-blue

8. Scary movies or happy endings? Scary, baybee! I'm a big wimp, but I love horror as a genre, even if I can't really watch a lot of the films because I have such an incredible startle response that it makes jumpscares intolerable.

9. Any special talents? I'm decent at writing and drawing, and I used to be able to balance up to twelve spoons on my face simultaneously until I got older and the shape of my face changed, which is a shame because it was my one party trick outside of listing facts nobody wants to hear about parasitoid wasps. I also apparently have a very good ear for music.

10. Where were you born? scotland, in a hospital that no longer exists.

11. What are your hobbies? writing, drawing, ttrpgs, reading, makin' little guys to write and draw about, amateur taxidermy, playing music (piano and ukulele) and singing (autism bonus round: learning about parasitology, corvids, vultures, mortuary science and the funeral industry, medical history and hilarious history in general, interesting diseases, animal facts)

12. Do you have pets? yes; a tiny little cat called Sigyn (full of violence), a much older and larger cat called Varjak (full of soft big man), and my mother owns a horse named TJ (full of hay).

13. How tall are you? 5'8"-ish

14. Favorite subject in school? english and biology

15. Dream job? I do not dream of work, brother (as a child I wanted to be a doctor, but now I'm aiming for mortician - I say aiming, because my body and brain are in a state of hilarious disarray what with all the various ailments and I'm borderline confined to my bedroom)

tagging people (with no expectation that they should do this, just a little suggestion, like poking a frog away from a road): @onearthbrieflygorgeous @theleastgothgoth @crisis-response-specialist @ziracona @star-rott and anyone else that follows me that wants to give it a go, feel free to tag me in your own responses

[clatoera]

I’m really curious to know how you became interested in Clato… they’re such minor characters I never gave them much thought

LOL bestie I wish I knew. My initial response was just “i’m mentally ill 🫶🏻” (and the other clove girlies will tell you that too). But in reality this interest can be traced back to being 14 when the movie came out. I liked to look at them so that helped.

But my like… thing?… was the “bad guys”. In everything I did/watched/read I liked the bad guy, I wanted to humanize them, I wanted to like justify them and whatever their stories were. That can be directly correlated to my obsession with Wicked which made me start saying “everyone is so misunderstood and arent bad!!” Which at the least is correct with the careers who are literally children. So I already had this thing for humanizing and justifying the bad guys so that was part of it.

The other part is the book, when Clove dies. That never screamed Platonic to me. It could have been but my childhood brain said nope ❤️. It stood out that Katniss, who has spent the whole book literally describing him as a monster, pause to note this was happening and I think it shocked her as much as anyone else? Like THAT was his humanizing moment in the book, not his speech on the cornucopia (which, I also do like!). But yeah. In the book we don’t see him as a teenage boy with feelings until, instead of following Katniss or the person who stole what they desperately needed, he kneels beside this dying girl and begs her to stay with him. And naturally my little girl brain latched onto it.

Thirdly was fandom space which is probably the MOST important. I think I was reading everlark fic that had Clato in the background and I was like..curious about it? And I then dug through that archive and got latched on and hooked on Clato. Truly. It was the fans and the fanfic archive that gave them life and depth and pulled me in. I can actually still remember the exact fic it was that hooked me good, and my own clato fics from like 2012-2014 are still out there in the ether (which i do not claim). So the largest thing was for sure fandom spaces and fic!

And yeah! So here I am. 25. Writing and reading about Clato still. I think more so now I realize what children they really were, and how at the end of the day literally all the careers were just kids who were trained to be the best and wanted to make people proud. Thats deeply relatable to me, too, even more so now. When I read the Hunger Games at that age I didn’t really pick up the depth of the horror either. I just liked them and thought they were cool, and thought katniss and peeta were endgame. Now, at 25, the horror actually strikes me. Thats why I actually have tended to write these kids older and older too- so as their brains develop they also start to see it.

Thank you!! This was weirdly fun to reflect on.

[oaxleaf]

The whole thing about Georgie is that her arc was fully completed long before the story began. She lost something/someone significant, she learned her lesson, she started living again. While the others have extensive knowledge of the Powers' terminology, she enters the story with a deep understanding of loss, entropy and fear that the others are yet to learn. She is never exactly unattended on screen. The tapes can't follow her and are hardly there for her so so does the narrative.

sorry this took me a couple days to answer. i was sick and my brain felt like the titan submersible moments before exploding to the pressure.

anyways. people aren't ever really finished though, you know? you have periods of your life when you are changing less or more, but you'll never reach a point where you will remain as such for the rest of your life. so whilst an arc can be fully completed in the sense of a certain, contained segment of a characters development, be it for better or worse, can reach a satisfying conclusion. and some stories tie it up there and let things lie, and that's fine, but others - especially those tragic or bittersweet endings - leave a lot to be developed on, or potential new themes to be explored.

georgie enters the story from a different position than the other characters, sure, but honestly i wouldn't claim that what marks her out is her being particulary good at dealing with loss, rather just that she does it differently. she is most definitely the best at letting go of things or setting boundaries where most of the other characters struggle to let go enough of their pain, curiosity, or emotional investment to do so. since she is not a part of the institute and as such not stuck there it makes good contrast to other characters, in particular to jon who, even before his life was dependent on the statements to stay alive, was unable to let obviously harmful situations be. it's also why georgie and melanie make such a good match - melanie is (along with tim) one of the few that really do want out.

and yeah, i guess you could call that an arc already completed by the time she's introduced. or you could just call it characterization or backstory. you're right about her not being interesting to the purpose of the tapes, and she is relatively sure of herself and is typically better at handling the horrors than others, but also don't feel like that's the point? she acts as a contrast, but not as, like, a mentor figure or something like that, and it's less important that she has overcome this stuff and more important that jon, in comparison, has not. so yes, georgie is relatively static in her development during most of the show. not at all a bad thing when placed next to characters experiencing such drastic changes.

but what i aim at when i talk about her arc just starts at the end of the show if the doubts she starts expressing about this position she has held in the narrative around the last ten episodes of the show. she clearly feels guilt about the state of the world, about not being there enough for jon, about being too passive and not intervening enough - which is why it's pretty characteristic for her to be the only one even considering not actually doing anything about the change in mag 199 - and she struggles with the idea that maybe she is partially responsible for it all too, simply because she was too good about handling the horrors when others very much were not. all these things that put her in a position of safety, sanity, and relative comfort, are now things she doubts because she worries that it makes her an accomplice through means of complicity

really it's just a seed. it only appears very late in the story, but i found it very potent. what makes me call it the start of an arc, though, are the very obvious opportunities for this all being exacerbated after the fall of the panopticon. there is so much potential for struggle and guilt there, and i just find the whole idea fascinating. to me, there isn't a world where georgie doesn't eventually have a breakdown over it all, but that's stuff that can only really be kicked into full gear after the absolutely chatastrophic personal loss and failure that was mag 200. that in combination with melanie's clear wish to just be rid of it all... all i'm saying is that there's some good potential in this

[alice-bushneva]

How to get rid of boredom once and for all? (If you an average person)

Have I finally found an antidote to one of the most unpleasant feelings that exist? For some of you, definitely. For others, maybe not...

The utility of the following information completely depends on your will. The will not only to understand it but also to apply and actually change old patterns.

I am never bored. And can insist that I know what I'm talking about because:

1. Either way, it definitely works: we can assume that all actions I take in life are leading to not being bored. 2. Either way, I was born with a natural capacity for receiving more emotions (or just having a higher range of them) by doing daily life things - therefore just not needing additional stimulation. 3. I can also assume that it was one of the ways I've been taught. If you have nothing to do, usually equivalent to boredom, my mom would give me tons of home chores to do (because there's always an infinite amount of it :) ). So it might have played a crucial role, but that's not the only reason for sure.

Right now, if it sounds a bit confusing, just keep in mind that we are at a basic level. No need to think of complicated theories; instead, think of how you don't get scared while watching a horror movie, and your mom does. Here you are: different people experience a different range of the same emotion. And it's either a life experience or either an innate predisposition that led to it.

In fact, this made me curious about why people around me experience it so often, while I haven't thought of it once (or at least haven't been using this exact term to describe it). While they're struggling with it, I would have a list of things to do and always be lacking time (it started being a problem at some point until I understood 'the concept' of priorities).

So, boredom is a lack of intellectual and/or physical activity. Activity leads to brain stimulation, which will elicit emotion in response to this outside stimuli.

So, that's what you have to determine on the first place. What exactly are you lacking?

1. Is it a daily routine that is eating you alive (distinctive features are: being okay with your life but finding it all dull and not interesting)? 2. Or have you just mentally overworked (here you're sick of your life, want to be a rebel, just do things to feel something)?

For the first case, an intellectual activity is key. For the second, a physical one.

Two things you can do are:

1. Create a list of potential activities (I heard of people with ADHD doing that - to help manage their attention).

2. Think of it on the spot - and benefit from an element of surprise if it's crucial for you.

That's already what you're doing already, but from now on, just try to be more self-conscious about it. You are already choosing from the activities you know, so the choice is very limited. Probably (since our brain is really lazy - which is actually a good thing! Sometimes :) ), you're choosing the easiest high-dopamine activity such as scrolling TikTok or Insta, masturbation, eating, or less often going out with friends and getting drunk (which is less probable because of the effort required).

Instead of that, I propose you diversify your choices and make it less self-destructive; in fact, even use this time beneficially.

Do not think that I'm telling you to eliminate 'chill' time and work only. NO! Because, for sure, it is really important to have time when you don't consume any information and just do nothing (processing and structuring your thoughts only).

The list should be divided into two categories:

I need an Intellectual activity:

- Become good at something - Favorite study - Math - Talk with people - Express feelings for people - Create something of your own (this works only if you're already good at something; if it's not the case, go back to the first activity proposed). - Make money

I need a physical one:

- "Life dangerous" (without actual life danger - but the one our brain considers as the catalyst for turning on the Basic Survival Instincts), such as swimming, cold shower, etc. - Favorite sport - Quick sport - Sex - Do absolutely nothing (I mean actually just look around you and think about random stuff)

The last piece of advice is: Keep in mind that you know yourself the best, so you have to look at this information through your preferences - only this way you'll be able to create a strong pattern system that is going to work for and not against you.

And keep in mind that: you are the only one responsible for your life.

Bonus for nerds:

So instead of doing top-down decision-making, you're going to be doing bottom-up decision-making. These are the notions Elisabeth Filips (source down below) has been using for describing a simple self-conscious analysis (the ability to understand what we actually need in this particular moment - to be more efficient and actually have control of ourselves and our actions). She introduced it while explaining how to stay focused and avoid any distractions. And by distractions, she meant scrolling = wasting time = procrastinating, while being scared of the upcoming deadline. In our case, there's no deadline, but a need for a pleasant activity. And a lot of people, in order to get it, seek it from sources (social media) that only give half of satisfaction compared to others (moving/thinking).

It's like washing your hands without soap because of not knowing that it exists or being too lazy to use it. So doing that is literally twice less efficient than properly washing them. Not particularly smart, right?

Source: https://elizabeth-filips.notion.site/Deep-Focus-Why-Your-Brain-Needs-Understimulation-f6f677ef8d4e4dcd803c94302817b10f#7d5e1d0d7c7f4c06ab4c48b38a4da146