#But also all the people I did help and save

[zarla-s]

i need to know more about your feelings of tf2 comic 7 because youre the heavymedic expert

I liked it! Satisfying happy conclusion for (almost) everyone, especially since I was a little worried they were going to kill everyone off, haha. Not a lot of Heavymedic stuff in there but I wasn't expecting much, and really it was about the Administrator and her story, so it makes sense the mercs wouldn't really take top billing for it.

There were a few cute things though! I know "standing next to each other" is like the most graspingest of straws but you know what, it made me smile each time so I don't care.

The big thing of course being Heavy grabbing his boob, which to me reads like him stopping Medic from trying to help the Admin, which I think is sweet in his own way. Medic has his healing instincts!

Medic also puts his hand on his back as they walk away, which I also think is sweet. It looks like he's comforting him.

I really loved the ending sequence where everyone gets together for that dinner party. It's just such a great bookend to how the comics started - initially when their team disbanded, everyone split off and did their own thing. Some of them didn't even keep track of where the others were! A few kept in contact, but mostly all of them just left the others and they didn't seem particularly concerned or interested in each other.

Compare that to them at the end of the comic! Seven years after everything that happened, they're all meeting up together for dinner! Voluntarily! They're introducing their families to each other! They don't have any contracts or jobs forcing them to spend time together. They WANT to have dinner together. SPY TAKES OFF HIS MASK AND IS FINE WITH IT! I just love that so much. They care about and trust each other after everything that's happened, all the years that have gone by. Team as family was CANON AFTER ALL

I think this whole sequence also sheds a nice light on Medic! Medic's been perceived as probably the most uncaring of the group, given that he did sign up with another team for the money and said he wouldn't mind fighting them again (although not too soon after that he ended up saving all their lives against direct orders). A lot of people interpreted that as him not really caring about the others or anything at all, but that's not the case!

Medic kept and raised his baboon baby! He didn't abandon it or use it for parts or anything, he kept and raised it for seven years! Responsibility!

Not only that, Medic hasn't abandoned his friends, signed up with a new team, forgotten them or tossed them aside. He's with them at the dinner! He comes with his baboon baby! He wants to be with them too! He cares about them, genuinely. And of course, the final shot is with him by Heavy's side, both of them just so happy to be there with everyone else.

Love that Medic's smile still looks unhinged too lol. Would I have loved Heavy holding onto Medic's waist? The two of them wearing matching rings? Of course! But them so close to each other and an obvious irrefutable confirmation that Medic loves and cares about his team and wants to be with them is really lovely. Makes me feel fuzzy, haha.

There's speculation too that Medic came with Heavy's family as that person in the back there but who can say for sure. |D

[ventique18]

For Book 8, Malleus would be obligated to assist us. But since his meta problem is that he's too strong and too quick to resolve crises, he'll probably need to be handicapped.

I actually don't think anyone else aside from the castle, Styx, and those who attended Lilia's party would be able to remember what happened tbh. Whether it be with the help of Crowley, or Styx, or just a convenient failsafe effect of his magic, his actions would probably just be filed as a minor school misdemeanor lol. Even the housewardens who attempted murder didn't face consequences, so I doubt he'd face something major when "all he did" was force people into a good night's sleep.

(Note: I don't think what he did was minor. I'm also not excusing him. Objectively, that's just how twst does things-- even Rollo who attempted to delete an entire fae race didn't get punished.)

So I think the worst consequence he'd probably get is that he's not allowed to use magic for an amount of time. Then conveniently, Book 8 will happen just as he's magicless and can't really be of much help except for being a physically strong bodyguard who accompanies you on your journey to save Grim.

Honestly I'd love that lol. I'd love to see him try to overcome his reliance on magic, and see just how strong humans actually are even without it. It'll be a good story to witness a future king in the making and even more so if we'll see him learn to see things from the perspective of those not born as exceptional as he is.

[aquared46]

Happy ao3 downtime. Have a little andreil fic. As a treat.

It was only because Neil recognized the cadence of the footsteps downstairs that his pounding heart calmed. He untangled his legs from the blankets, but didn’t rise from the bed. He listened as Andrew locked the front door, the pounding in his head and the sickness swirling in his stomach indicating he only managed about an hour of sleep. Vague images clung to the backs of Neil’s eyelids, a nightmare that slipped from his waking mind. Something Andrew had saved him from before he was even in the room.

Andrew wasn’t supposed to be back in South Carolina for another two weeks, obligated to spend time training with his team between games. Neil himself should’ve been on campus, ready for practice in the morning. Instead, Coach took one look at him yesterday afternoon and sent him away with orders to get some sleep. To give his vice captain a chance to practice for the real thing once Neil graduated in a few short months.

Neil couldn’t get any sleep at the dorms, but his and Andrew’s bed in Columbia called to him. Neil made the trip and collapsed into it, his mind wandering to the countless firsts they shared there rather than the onslaught of memories March brought.

Neil had survived three Marches since the riot, since his father’s people had delivered him to the basement in Baltimore. His fourth March should’ve been no different.

Except there was one thing Neil hadn’t accounted for: Andrew wasn’t there.

Neil was in his final year, Andrew was playing on a professional team states away, and Neil had never realized exactly how much he leaned on him in times like this. How the shared cigarettes steadied his hands, how Andrew’s palm on the back of his neck halted the crawling beneath his skin.

Objectively, he knew Andrew helped, but it was also something Neil should’ve been able to do on his own. It wasn’t something he wanted to burden Andrew with, something that pulled him away from his responsibilities because Neil couldn’t manage to get through just a few fucking days without nearly falling apart.

And now Andrew was standing in the doorway of their bedroom in Columbia, the light from the hall flooding into the room and illuminating Neil in all his disgrace. The sweaty skin, the greasy hair, the circles under his eyes, the t-shirt Neil had bundled under his head.

Neil had found it wedged between the nightstand and the bedframe, undoubtedly tossed aside carelessly on a good day that involved lots of kissing and touching. It smelled a bit like old sweat, but Andrew’s scent also clung to it, and Neil was far beyond denying himself such a simple comfort.

Andrew kicked the bedroom door closed, and Neil listened to his footsteps as he approached in the dark. There was a click as Andrew tugged the chain of the small lamp on the nightstand. Andrew always hated how bright the overhead light was.

Andrew gestured to Neil’s entirety. “This is not fine.” He snagged the shirt from under Neil’s head, wrinkling his nose before tossing it aside.

Andrew had called him just two days earlier. They’d talked as they always did, exchanging stories and sometimes just sitting in silence, knowing the other was there and listening. Except this time Andrew had explicitly asked how Neil was holding up, and Neil had said he was fine.

“I meant what I said.” Neil mourned the loss of the shirt, but tucked his face closer to the pillow, where some of the smell had transferred.

Andrew’s jaw tensed. “I thought you weren’t going to lie to me anymore.”

“I’m not.”

“Then you’re lying to yourself.” Something settled in Andrew’s gaze as he examined Neil, the tension in his shoulders easing. “And you’re an idiot if you think I’d make you bear this on your own.”

Andrew emptied his pockets on the nightstand, and Neil felt something loosen in him as well. As Andrew peeled off his jeans, Neil scooched over to make enough room on the bed.

“There were no games scheduled, so I got cleared for this time off weeks ago,” Andrew said as he slipped under the covers.

The relief Neil felt from his proximity didn’t lessen the weight of his glare. “And you’re telling me this now?”

“You should’ve known I’d be here for your yearly mental breakdown. At least you keep a consistent schedule. I was curious whether you’d be honest with me, but now I have to ask: Was it a lack of self-awareness or sheer bullheaded stubbornness that kept you from telling the truth?” Andrew was close enough Neil could feel the warmth radiating off him. “I didn’t believe you then, and your current appearance only validates that assessment. If I asked again what would your answer be now?”

Neil ignored his first impulse, which was to say he was fine. Not only was it the answer Andrew didn’t want, but it certainly wasn’t true. Frustratingly, everything Andrew said was right. The way Andrew could peel back his layers and see what was underneath used to be unsettling, but nowadays Neil found it reassuring. Even if it pissed him off. Even if Andrew told him things he didn’t want to hear.

“That I can’t sleep,” Neil said through gritted teeth. “That he’s the only thing I see when I close my eyes, and that I wish you were here.”

“That’s better,” Andrew said. “Certainly more believable.”

Andrew reached for Neil, settling his arm over his waist and tugging him closer. Neil sagged into the contact, shuddering with relief as he tucked his head under Andrew’s.

Neil breathed him in. “I should be able to bear this on my own.”

“You don’t have to. I’d rather be here when you don’t need me than be away when you do.” Andrew tightened his arm, tangling Neil’s legs with his.

Neil had been holding himself together by threads for the past few days. In Andrew’s arms, he was safe enough to let himself fall apart. His chest was tight, and he gradually lost the steady breaths he forcibly maintained.

Andrew held him through it, his fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on Neil’s spine. It was something Neil could focus on, something he could latch onto to draw himself back into his own body. Exhaustion crashed into him as soon as he did, but not before he made Andrew a promise.

“I’ll do better next time.”

“I know.”

[ambiguous-avery]

Read for Me

Sam Winchester x fem!Reader/You | WC: 3408

Summary: Researching with Sam was always a treat. Unlike most hunters who did it simply as a means to an end, Sam always seemed to genuinely enjoy having a nose in the books. He was a kindred spirit in that way. Maybe that’s what made you fall for him. Turns out, he’s felt the same way about you. Who said researching couldn’t be fun?

Tags/Warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI, no use of Y/N, she/her pronouns, femme nicknames (baby, pretty girl), reader is AFAB, oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V sex (remember to be safe, friends), spanking, PWP (Plot? What plot?), no beta we die like men

A/N: I may be a Dean girlie through and through, but I’d have to be absolutely blind to not appreciate how damn good Sam looks. I’m a sucker for guys with longer hair. I’ve never written for Sam, and I don’t feel like I have as solid of a grasp on his character. But hey, we all gotta start somewhere yeah? I am apparently incapable of writing a short smut piece. Also in my head, Sam is a kinky fucker, and no I will not hear otherwise.

It had been far too long since you sat in the library of the bunker, nose-deep into a lore book. The last several months had seen you taking hunts all across the west coast with little to no reprieve in between jobs. Such was the life, though. There was always something else to hunt. Always someone else to save. Always some threat that needed to be put down. It was a hectic way to live, but you couldn’t deny that it was fulfilling. You helped people. And that would always make it worth it.

But that only made the quiet moments that much more precious. 

The Winchester’s bunker was hardly home, but any hunter worth their salt would be hard pressed to find a library of this caliber. You may have been a decent hunter in the field, but texts and manuscripts were where you really shone. Sam and Dean had answered your call for help on hunts before, and you had done the same on occasion. There had always been a hint of something between you and Sam from the beginning, but neither of you acted on it. The life of a hunter wasn’t one that afforded either of you the luxury of getting attached to any one person. So the two of you simply existed in the orbit of the other, occasionally passing close but never touching. Never breaking that physical barrier. 

But the both of you could appreciate being around the other without the need to directly interact. Which is why you were sat across the table from Sam in the bunker library, each of you engrossed in your own book. You peeked over the top of the pages, sneaking a glimpse of him in his zone. He had no right looking as handsome as he was. The way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. The way his lips moved silently as he read. It was all too captivating. You quickly averted your eyes back to your own book, cheeks flushing with a warmth that had nothing to do with the bunker's heating system. 

A creak of the chair across from you broke through your focus, and you looked up to see Sam closing his book. His hazel eyes met yours, and there was a flicker of something unnamable that passed between you. Without a word, he stood up and walked over to the bookshelves, running his fingers over the spines of the ancient tomes as he searched for a specific volume. You watched him move with a quiet grace, admiring the way his muscles shifted beneath his flannel shirt. Sam finally pulled out a thick, leather-bound book and made his way back to the table, sitting across from you again. You went back to focusing on your book.

Sam glanced up from the tome in front of him, catching a peek of you engrossed in the text. A soft smile played on his lips as he let himself admire from afar. No one read like you did. The way your eyebrows rose and fell when you read something new. There was always a glint in your eye when you stumbled upon a particularly interesting passage, and Sam couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through his chest. When you turned the page and chewed on your lip, Sam made the executive decision that he was done with the unspoken connection.

He cleared his throat, his breath briefly catching when you looked up at him through your lashes.

“Can I be honest with you for a moment?” he asked slowly, steeling his nerves. You set your book down, your heart racing at the vulnerability in Sam’s gaze. His question lingered in the air, heavy with unvoiced feelings that danced between you.

“Of course,” you nodded, urging him to continue. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his expression before he took a deep breath.

“I… I know that we’ve kept each other at arm’s length. For good reason,” he started, his eyes never leaving yours. “But every time we’re in the same room, it’s like there’s something unspoken between us. Am I reading that right, or am I completely off?”

You took a steadying breath, tension crackling between the two of you. You simultaneously wanted to thank whatever god might have been watching over you and punch them for encouraging Sam to drag the truth out into the open. You had been content letting whatever there was between you and Sam just sit in the dark, never touching on what it could be. But here it was. Brought into the light at last, waiting to be explored. You swallowed.

“You’re not completely off,” you admitted softly, feeling a rush of both fear and exhilaration at finally acknowledging the undercurrent of something more than had been threatening to pull you under. “There’s always been something, hasn’t there?”

Sam let out a long, slow exhale, relief evident in his eyes as he nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” he breathed, his voice just barely above a whisper as if the moment would shatter to pieces if he spoke too loud. “I’ve tried to ignore it. Thought it would just fizzle out over time. But it didn’t. And it’s not just me, is it?” he continued, standing from his seat and moving around the table to your side. He reached out tentatively, his fingers grazing yours on the table. “I don’t want to ignore it anymore,” Sam confessed. You intertwined your fingers with his, a rush of raw desire and emotion breaking free from behind the dam you had built up.

“I don’t want to ignore it either.” You looked up at him.

Sam dipped down and pressed his lips against yours in a long-overdue kiss. It was soft and gentle, a tender exploration of something that was simultaneously both familiar and foreign. But as you both grew bolder, the kiss deepened with a fervor that threatened to overtake you all at once. Sam’s free hand came up to cup your cheek, and his tongue swiped at your lower lip. You responded eagerly, parting your lips as his tongue slid against yours. The library melted around you, only leaving the sensation of Sam’s warm touch and the taste of desire on your lips.

When you broke apart, both of you were breathless and flushed with a newfound desire that coursed through your veins. Sam rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all he found instead was a mirrored reflection of the same yearning that burned within him.

“I’ve wanted to do that for longer than I care to admit,” he confessed. You smiled softly, reaching up to brush a lock of hair away from his face.

“Me too,” you replied, abandoning the book in your hand entirely and twisting in your chair to face him better. You pressed another soft kiss to his lips. “Don’t suppose there’s anything else you’ve wanted to do for a long while, hm?”

The playfulness in Sam’s eyes winked out and was replaced by a smoldering intensity that sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. He kissed you again, this time with a hunger that hadn’t been there before. His hand left yours and instead, he tangled his fingers through your hair, carding them through the strands. 

“There might have been one or two other things...” he mumbled against your lips. He straightened up, pulling you out of your chair with him. “Up on the table.”

“Wait, here?” You spoke in a hushed tone, even though you knew that you were the only two in the bunker. Dean had left who knew how long ago, grumbling something about the ‘nerd convention’ being in town. You hadn’t caught the full extent of the conversation, mainly because Sam and his brother could converse with glances alone, and you had given up trying to figure it out forever ago.

“Yeah, here,” Sam confirmed, his voice low and husky with desire. The thrill of it all coursed through you, charging the atmosphere between you further. You didn’t hesitate as he helped you up onto the sturdy wooden table, unceremoniously pushing books and papers aside to make room for you.

Sam stepped between your legs, his hands coming to rest on your waist as his lips found yours once more. It was fervent and needy and full of the promise of more. Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles tense beneath his shirt. His lips seared yours, branding you with the heat of his passion and desire. Your lips parted with a quiet moan as his lips trailed down your jawline, leaving a hot trail of kisses along your neck. Your head fell back in a silent invitation, willing to give him access to every inch of your skin. He took it, backing off just long enough to yank your shirt up and unclasping your bra with practiced ease. Although, he couldn’t even be bothered to fully remove anything, just shoving your shirt and bra out of the way as he sucked and nipped at a spot just beneath your collarbone. 

And his hands – God his hands. One kept a hold on your shirt and bra, keeping them out of his way as he teased a nipple between his teeth. The other ran up your back, grabbed a handful of the hair just above the nape of your neck, and pulled, still bracing his arm against you to serve as counterpressure. You arched into his touch, your hips pressing against him in a silent pleas for more of his attention. His hands were everywhere, exploring every inch of you as though he was making up for lost time and memorizing your shape with his fingers alone. Each kiss was slow and deliberate as he took you apart piece by piece. His fingers trailed their way down your sides, grazing your hips and sending a shiver through you. When he finally moved to trail kisses back to your lips, you met him halfway, pulling him closer until you felt the length of him press against your center.

“Fuck, I want you,” you breathed against his ear, voice breathless with need. Sam paused, lifting his head so he could meet your gaze.

“I want you too,” he echoed back to you. “But I don’t know that I want to make it that easy for you.” Your breath hitched at his words, heart pounding in your chest as need swept through you, pooling at your core. The thought that Sam could very well leave you like this, wanting and waiting and so fucking turned on was simultaneously terrifying and thrilling. The playful smirk that crept onto his face told you everything you needed to know; he wouldn’t leave you like this, but he was certainly going to drag it out.

He tugged at the button of your jeans, and there was no elegance in the way he helped you shimmy out of them and your panties. The surface of the library table was cool against your skin, and just when you thought that Sam couldn’t possibly be any sexier than he already way, he sank to his knees. Watching a man as physically imposing as him drop to his knees before you was a sight that needed to be imprinted on the back of your eyelids so you could see it again and again and again. His hands were steady on your hips as he tugged you to the edge of the table, his eyes only leaving yours when he pressed a kiss to your knee. The heat of his breath ghosted across your skin as he kissed and licked his way up the inside of one thigh. Then, avoiding the spot where you wanted him most, he sucked a bruise on your other thigh, trailing kisses back down until he was at your other knee. You reached down, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer and urging him on.

“Beg when you’ve had enough,” was your only warning before his mouth was on you, tongue stroking along your folds and fingers digging into your thighs to hold you at his mercy. You whimpered and whined and moaned. Every gasp and sigh and plea only fueled him more, and when he sank two fingers into your wet heat, your back arched and you cried out his name. You bucked against him, desperate for more – desperate for him. You felt him smile against you, before he swirled his tongue around your clit and twisted his fingers in you to curl them up towards your belly. You clawed at him, torn between pulling him closer for more of that delicious friction or pushing him away to escape the overwhelming sensations. 

“Sam,” you groaned, legs tensing on either side of his shoulders.

“Hmm?” he hummed against you, the vibrations adding to the tension that coiled inside you.

“Please.” You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled because you were pretty sure that the only words in your vocabulary were ‘Sam’ and ‘please’ anymore. He took pity on you and sucked your clit between his lips, laving it with attention while he pulsed his fingers against that sensitive spot inside you. 

“That’s it, come for me, pretty girl.” You shattered beneath his touch, your orgasm crashing over you. Your legs shook, and the hand you have placed behind you to brace yourself just about buckled as Sam continued his assault, drawing out your climax and setting every nerve alight.

Sam didn’t relent. You whimpered and patted his head with urgency as things moved into ‘too much.’ He soothed you with his tongue, his movements becoming gentler as you came down from your high. He stood, his lips meeting yours in a hurried kiss, and you tasted yourself on his tongue. You moaned into him, and he ground his hips against you, his cock hard and demanding.

“Sam, please,” you begged. “Please fuck me already.”

“Don’t worry. I’m far from done with you, pretty girl.” 

He urged you forward, coaxing you off the table and onto unsteady legs. Mercifully, he helped steady you before prompting you to turn around. He pressed a hand between your shoulder blades and gently nudged you forward until your front was pressed flat against the table. There was the vague clinking sound of his belt and zipper before Sam was crowding you. The head of his cock pressed against your entrance, teasing you with the promise of relief. He kept his hand on your back and steadied your hip with the other as he pressed forward, filling you with the entire length of him. 

“Fuck…” you breathed, arms braced on the table in front of you and arching into him. His thrusts were slow and measured at first, giving you time to adjust. Then, he sank fully into you, leaning over you to grab for one of the books that had been scattered across the table. He was so goddamn tall that he reached over you effortlessly.

“I’m gonna make you work for it, pretty girl,” he said, the tone in his voice unlike anything you had heard from Sam before. You barely had a moment to try and figure out what he meant by those words as he cracked open a book and propping it up in front of you. “Read for me, baby. Out loud. Any time you make a mistake, I’m gonna punish you for it.”

You might have laughed if the moment were different. Reading was as easy as breathing for you, and if he thought that this was a challenge, then he didn’t know you as well as you thought. You took a deep breath and read over the first line on the page. And then he moved, and all the wind was knocked out of your sails. On the initial thrust, you managed to keep your composure, but somewhere between three and four, you stumbled over the Latin name for some creature you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to. His hand met your ass, and you yelped, jolting forward. The hard edge of the table dug into your hips, a stark reminder that Sam had you entirely at his mercy. Trapped between the solid form of him and the cool surface of the library table. And you realized that the Sam behind you was an entirely different side of him you had never experienced before.

Sam chuckled – fucking chuckled – as he soothed his hand over the placed where he had just spanked you.

“Keep going, pretty girl,” he said, amusement in his voice. You could hear him smiling as he spoke. If you didn’t enjoy this, he might have sounded cruel. Thank god you were into this as much as he was. You took another deep breath, doing your best to ignore the stinging. “Don’t worry, we can go slow.” And he kept to his word. The languid way he moved his hips gave off the impression that he could do this for hours if he had the time. You continued reading, faltering again when his hand slid from your ass to your clit. He made a ‘tsk’ing sound before spanking you again, striking the same spot he had before. You squealed under him, excitement coursing through your veins, and he picked up his pace, every thrust making it just a little harder to get through the next sentence.

Your words stumbled and faltered as his movements grew more urgent. Sure enough, when your voice caught on the phrase ‘Ad libitum’ because of course it would on a phrase like that, his hand connected with your skin again. You gasped, pushing yourself up onto your toes in an attempt to meet his thrusts. The pleasure and pain mingled together in a heady mix that would no doubt fry your circuits if you lingered for too long. You whimpered as the cycle continued. You read as best as you could, but your mistakes grew closer and closer as Sam’s thrusts grew harder and faster. It was like being on a tightrope between desire and frustration helpless under his dominance. But you couldn’t think of anywhere else you would rather be. Occasionally, his hand would leave your clit to spank your ass again, both a punishment and incentive to do better next time. Every smack echoed loudly in the room, adding another layer to the symphony of sounds.

He slid out of you, just long enough to hoist you up and sit you back on the edge of the table, the book completely forgotten as he sank back into you. Sam’s breathing became more labored, his movements more urgent as he drove into you deeper and harder. You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, realizing that he had been so desperate to have you that he hadn’t wasted extra time stripping.  Your name tumbled from his lips in a low growl, and you wrapped your legs around his hips, meeting his thrust for thrust, desperately needing to feel him closer. Your orgasm was building again, and when his lips found their way to your neck, he bit and sucked a love bruise there. You came shuddering around his cock, and your name left his lips once more in a hoarse cry as he buried himself deep inside you, finding his own release moments after.

The library was quiet again, filled only with the sounds of yours and Sam’s ragged breaths. As you lifted your gaze to meet his, your breaths mingled in the stillness, and you could feel the connection between you settle into something more comfortable. More steadfast. Like the roots of an old tree. He leaned in to kiss you savoring the moment with a gentle intensity before slipping out of you. 

“You are something else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. And just like that, the Sam you had come to cherish reemerged – the sweet and caring gentle giant. His hand cupped your cheek tenderly, and he kissed you once more, a soft and chaste touch that spoke volumes. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” he suggested with a warm smile. “I think we’ve spent enough time among the books for now.” And his words were a gentle breeze, guiding you back to reality. The life of a hunter might have been unpredictable and fraught with danger, but, really, it wasn’t something you couldn’t handle together.

---

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[kissboybyler]

it gets to me so much sometimes when i think that, in whichever fandom, the GA or just most people tend to ship two characters just because they are canon. Like mike and el, for instance, they are canon, they have kissing scenes and they dance at the ball and they…hug?! But what do they even talk about? What’s the music playing in the background? What’s the context of their interactions? Why, why do they love each other? Do they make each other better, do they find missing parts of themselves in the form of another person? Are there hints and tells and color-codes that just…exist to symbolise their love?

Why do we ship these characters? What’s is it about their love that is so strong? And don’t get me wrong, i also believe -like many other bylers/ fans of the show- that mike and el grew to love each other, to appreciate and kind of need each other. But not for the right reasons.

I mean, mike needs to be needed, to be able to help or even save another person, to feel loved and wanted. But he also needs to allow himself to be who he is, outside of “forced conformity” (“that’s what’s killing the kids” after all!)

El, on the other hand, needs to find who she is, but firstly she needs to have a safe place where she is allowed to kind of just exist and then blossom into her true self. And bumping into mike, who eventually grew to appreciate and embrace her, she felt safe for the first time. And alongside her, mike felt needed, like he could protect her and be there for her and make her happy.

But now el, who has established both meaningful familial relationships and friendships, needs to find out who she is. How can we expect her to grow when she’s in a relationship with the first person she met right after she broke out of the lab (her literal prison), who can’t even talk about any other part of her that he loves other than her powers?

And i’ve read many many other people write about this, about how in s4, when mike wasn’t with el he embraced his geeky, nerdy and weird self but when he finally reunited with el, he had to hide himself from her (as did she!). He just…couldn’t be himself around her.

But like, apart from the problems in their relationship, i really just don’t understand why people ship them. It’s just…mike cant be himself around el and el doesn’t have room to find herself when she’s with mike. It literally doesn’t make any mathematical sense.

And then they say we’re delusional for thinking, for proving, that there are astronomically higher chances for these two not to be endgame, for el to be single and for mike and will to get together. Because it makes sense…right? Like, el will be able to find herself outside of a relationship, she won’t be dictated by anyone but her own self, and mike and will… do i really have to elaborate? Like, in every single aspect of stranger things, from musical titles and colour-codes, parallels and loving, longing stares, hand touches, over-protectiveness, deep and meaningful understanding to posters and freaking funko-pops, interviews and good ol’ fashioned cinematography and storytelling… it all points to them, if you connect the dots.

And how, how is it possible that so many dots have been put into such perfect places, to make such a beautifully crafted imagery, just for all of this to be a coincidence? When, when has anything ever in stranger things been coincidental? Ever?

Edit: I’d just like to denote that, when i said “(mike) can’t even talk about any other part of her that he loves other than her powers” i didn’t mean that mike loves el JUST because she has powers, fuck no, BUT when the time was right for him to note all of the other aspects of her character that make her a remarkable person (ex. her selflessness, her compassion), he decided to focus on her powers. The very thing that she herself thought dictated her.

just wanted to make that super clear.

[angelsndragons]

oh you want discourse? sure, buddy.

the queer characters in tevinter are all part of an underground organization started specifically by said queer characters. they're still underground. ya know, like dorian said way back in dai when he mentioned having no concept of how a queer relationship is supposed to work. of course it's tevinter where queer labels popped up, they literally need those words in a way the rest of thedas doesn't because the rest of thedas generally isn't queerphobic. same sex relationships are fucking normal in the rest of thedas, gender queer presentations and trans folk are just people in the rest of thedas. tevinter's queer population is oppressed in a way it wouldn't be in the rest of the world so yeah, they have fucking labels. also, as an out of world piece of commentary, they gave the roman empire/byzantine based culture our real world labels because said labels in english come from latin. ya know, the language of the roman empire.

the only change that's been made on the queer front in tevinter from what we've heard earlier is that trans folk can now legally serve in the military as themselves. tarquin has a convo about it. that's literally it. krem's situation won't happen again, probably thanks to dorian meeting him and working with mae to make it happen. that's the only change in ten years. mae was in dai in several war table missions, specifically about empowering the lucerni further, and she's been trans the entire time so yeah, there is precedent for queer folks to rise to power outside of veilguard. it doesn't happen often and the establishment took its first opportunity to throw her out but it's there. the queer folk outside the shadow dragons hideout? they're furtive, whispering requests for dates or nervously looking around to see if someone else heard the conversation. i caught four separate occasions where this happened in dock town.

the crows weren't defanged, did you not listen to any of lucanis, ivenci, or viago's conversations? lucanis and rook were tortured as part of their training (literally as children), viago talks about dosing himself with poison since a young age (and doing so to rook), rook and jacobus were kids from the street taken in and brutally trained for assassinations, etc. jacobus starts up his own house to continue the cycle in the save treviso route for fuck's sake. invenci talks about how crow infighting messes up/destroys the country's ability to function, disparages their whole "crows rule antiva" with snide remarks about how countries actually function -paperwork, which so casually dismisses-, and decries them as murderers with no oversight. they're right, the crows are literally doing that outside treviso, where circumstances have forced various houses to work together as a resistance cell. the crows are better than when we last heard of them from zevran, who's spent the last twenty years assassinating the worst of the bunch, but they're not good by any stretch of the imagination. the crows are absolutely presenting their best face to rook but all the factions are. they want the extra help and expertise rook and their team offers so they're trying to put as positive a spin on it as possible.

that stuff you say is a problem isn't if you paying any sort of attention to the game and the world it presents.

Is this a safe space to—HA. HAHAHA. (I'm well aware it isn't but I'm going to share my opinion regardless.)

I think there is a significant correlation between people who are mad at Dragon Age: The Veilguard's queer representation being "too in your face" and "not fantasy immersive enough" or whatever, and people who play Baldur's Gate 3 and other queer RPGs, pretending the queerness doesn't exist.

This is not dissing BG3; lord knows I'm in love with that game. I'm just pointing out that it is entirely possible to go through it and pretty easily ignore its queerness if you're an asshole set on doing so. You cannot do that with DATV. And I think that's why Taash especially gets the brunt of the bullshit reactions, because them being non-binary is such a core part of who they are, it is is unavoidable.

So, yeah. I like the overt queerness. As far as I'm concerned, that's one of the best things about DATV.

[reality-detective]

Where are all those people who were telling us there is no plan and nobody is coming to save us?

I used to be inundated with them telling me I was fool for following Q and it was a psyop to get us all to be complacent and comply with the globalists agenda of total enslavement.

They wanted us to rise up violently and remove the government.

They wanted a civil war.

We didn’t take the bait.

Instead, we are witnessing a complete dismantling of the insurgency in real time. Faster than ever.

How?

Q told us to “follow the money.”

That’s the “keystone.”

Q drop

5

“FOLLOW THE MONEY, it’s the key.

What is Pelosi’s net worth by way of one example. Why coincidentally is her memory apparently going?

Cover for possible future indictment to plead what?

What if John M never had surgery and that was a cover for a future out if needed against prosecution?

Why did Soros transfer his bulk public funds to a NP? Note this doesn’t include massive slush funds that are pulled by several high ups.

Why did Soros’ son have several meetings with Canadian PM and how is that related to Clinton’s?

Can you rely on being able to board a plane and fly away?

Why is MS13 a priority _ nobody got this.

Could people pay such gangs to kill opponents and why / how to insulate against exposure?

The truth is mind blowing and cannot fully be exposed.

Also many are thinking from one point of view, US only, this evil is embedded globally. US is the first domino.

Have faith.”

Following the money will reveal the entire web of corruption going back many decades. It has always been the KEYSTONE.

Q drop

167

POTUS opened the door of all doors.

Expand your thinking.

What is the KEYSTONE?

Q

DOGE was planned for a long time.

By making Elon and his data investigators “Special Government Employees,” it allows them to access every department and agency.

Trump knew that when all of this theft of taxpayers money is proven, the American people will scream for justice.

Trump’s team didn’t just hit the ground running, they have hit the entire insurgency with an offensive “blitzkrieg” that they never expected.

They have called Trump “Hitler” for eight years and now he’s hitting them with another boomerang.

Blitzkrieg

Military tactic calculated to create psychological shock and resultant disorganization in enemy forces through the employment of surprise, speed, and superiority in matériel or firepower.

Aren’t the democrats and RINOS in shock and don’t they look totally disorganized?

Why were they so unprepared for this complete dismantling of their entire corrupt system?

Q told us.

“She was never supposed to lose.”

Here’s a Q drop by Trump himself. Trump is Q+.

Q drop

1834

THEY NEVER THOUGHT SHE WOULD LOSE.

NOW THEY ALL LOSE.

Q+

When Trump won the presidency in 2017, the game was over.

Here’s a portion of

Q drop 2

“POTUS knew removing criminal rogue elements as a first step was essential to free and pass legislation.

Who has access to everything classified?

Do you believe HRC, Soros, Obama etc have more power than Trump? FANTASY.

Whoever controls the office of the Presidecy controls this great land.

They never believed for a moment they (Democrats and Republicans) would lose control.

This is not a R v D battle.

Why did Soros donate all his money recently?

Why would he place all his funds in a RC?

Mockingbird 10.30.17

God bless fellow Patriots.”

Trump chose to play the long game because he knew that just removing all of the insurgency, without first exposing all the corruption, would be a high risk for civil war.

The enemy desperately wanted a civil war because that would help them to escape justice.

This is why some of those big influencers on social media were attacking Q followers.

We “trusted the plan” and they were trying to get the American people to arm themselves and rise up to take on the government.

They failed...

I know a lot of people will call me crazy among other things because they think dates came and went with nothing happening... Well what people failed to understand is those so-called dates, we're NOT dates! They were chapters and paragraphs in the "Law of War Manual." I have posted about it before.

I can't change anybody, change is your job🤔

[vandme12]

Ronin x FtM Reader? 👀 Like Ronin helping reader after they have gotten top surgery! Or helping prepare their t shots! Haven't seen really anything like that on Tumblr so I hope it won't be too much of a ask! ^^'

WORDS : 1000 W0RDS

CHARACTER USED : Ronin from Killer Chat!

SUMMARY : BACK ALLEY IS BETTER!

I'll be happy to write for requests like these! Don't be shy!

The alley smelled like blood. Not fresh, not clean—old and rotting, a scent that clung to the damp brick walls and the cracked pavement beneath your feet. It mixed with the sharp sting of antiseptic and the metallic tang of something you refused to name.

And yet, Ronin stood beside you, hands in the pockets of his coat, breathing it in like it was the crisp night air.

“Ahh,” he sighed, tilting his head back. “Smells like home.”

You shot him a look, not for the first time questioning how the fuck you ended up here. Then again, you already knew.

You had been saving up, researching, checking waitlists—months, years of hoping, of being told to wait, of people telling you what you already knew about yourself. The gatekeeping, the insurance nightmares, the sheer impossibility of it all. And then—

Then there was Ronin.

He had laughed when you told him your struggle, like it was the funniest joke he’d ever heard. You had been two seconds away from decking him when he’d draped an arm over your shoulder, leaned in close, and whispered in your ear—

“Babe, you should’ve come to me sooner. I know a guy.” And that’s how you ended up here. Ronin wasn’t lying. He did know a guy. He knew exactly where to go. He had strutted through the city’s underbelly like he owned the place, winking at men who looked like they had body parts in their freezers, nodding at surgeons whose credentials were dubious at best. He walked you straight to the back alley butcher he swore by, the one who had carved him into the shape he wanted to be.

"You're gonna owe me for this, y'know."

Ronin’s voice was all casual malice, like he was commenting on the weather instead of leading you down a dimly lit alley that reeked of piss and cigarette smoke. The neon lights of a rundown tattoo shop buzzed overhead, casting jagged shadows along the cracked pavement. He walked like he owned the place, one hand shoved into the pocket of his blood-stained hoodie, the other gesturing lazily at the rusted metal door in front of you.

"Hope you're not squeamish," he added, grinning sharp. "Or if you are, hope you like painkillers. The good shit costs extra, but since I'm so fuckin' generous, I made sure you'd get a little sumthin’."

You swallowed hard. Your ribs still ached from binding too long, from carrying the weight of something that was never meant to be there. Your whole life had been leading to this moment, and Ronin—fucking Ronin—was the one making it happen.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest like it still mattered.

Ronin clicked his tongue and draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you in like you were some fresh-faced recruit in his little game. His touch was warm, grounding in a way you didn’t want to admit.

"Cuz I like you," he purred, voice all honeyed menace. "And if I like you, that means you get nice things. ‘Course, that also means you owe me, but we’ll worry about that later."

His fingers curled around the nape of your neck for just a second before he let go, shoving the door open with a grand sweep of his hand.

"Welcome to Hell."

The "clinic" was little more than a dingy back room behind an abandoned massage parlor, the kind of place where dreams were bought in cash and sterilization was highly negotiable. A single operating table sat under harsh fluorescent lights, the floor sticky with something you didn’t want to name. The doctor—if you could call him that—was an older man with nicotine-stained fingers and a perpetual scowl.

The "surgeon" looked up, a wiry man with sunken eyes and a cigarette dangling from his lips. His gloved hands were stained—hopefully ink, but you weren’t about to ask.

“Well, well,” he rasped, looking you over. “A friend of the Devil’s?”

Ronin threw an arm around your shoulders. “More than a friend, doc. A project. This one needs your best work.”

The man snorted but gestured to the chair. “You know the drill. Cash up front.”

Ronin didn’t even hesitate. He pulled a thick wad of cash from his pocket, tossed it onto the tray. Where the hell had he gotten it? Probably best not to ask.

"You vouch for them?"" the man grunted, lighting up a cigarette."

Ronin grinned, showing teeth. "I vouch so hard, doc. This one's mine, like I said. so you better make it nice. Or else."

The doc barely blinked, just exhaled a cloud of smoke and waved you toward the table. "Shirt off. Lay down. Try not to die on me."

Ronin leaned against the wall, watching you with a lazy kind of amusement as you hesitated.

"Nervous?" he taunted.

"Shut up," you shot back, yanking your shirt over your head.

Ronin’s smirk didn’t falter, but something in his eyes shifted—something sharp and knowing. He’d been here before. Laid on that same table. Let this same old bastard carve him open and put him back together. He didn’t say it, but you could feel it.

"Good," he murmured. "Means it’s real."

The painkillers barely dulled the sensation. Ronin had warned you, but nothing could really prepare you for the sheer rawness of it. The pull of scalpels. The pressure of hands inside your skin. The sound of your own body being reshaped. You drifted in and out, somewhere between agony and euphoria.

And Ronin was there.

He didn’t leave.

Sat in the corner, flipping a knife between his fingers, making casual conversation with the doc like this was just another Tuesday.

“Y’know, I was gonna kill a guy today,” he mused, tilting his head like a cat playing with a mouse. “But then this came up, and I figured, eh, murder can wait.”

The doc grunted. "Touching."

"Right?" Ronin flashed you a grin. "See how important you are to me?"

You tried to roll your eyes, but it was hard when your body felt like wet cement.

You floated in and out, barely registering voices, hands, movement. You thought you heard Ronin humming, some sweet little tune that didn’t match the circumstances at all. You thought you felt his fingers ghost over your forehead, pushing your hair back. Maybe it was a dream.

Maybe it wasn’t.

A cot creaked beneath you, and the weight of bandages wrapped around your chest kept you anchored to reality.

Everything hurt. Not in a bad way. No, this pain was right.

You weren’t trapped anymore.

You weren’t waiting anymore.

Ronin was sitting on the floor beside you, legs stretched out, twirling a knife between his fingers like he had nothing better to do. He glanced up when you groaned, his grin slow and wicked.

“There he is,” he said, voice dripping with something you couldn’t quite name. “How’s my favorite little surgery boy feelin’?”

You licked your lips. “Like I got hit by a truck.”

Ronin snorted. “Nah, babe, trust me, truck’s worse. I’d know.”

You tried to sit up, but a sharp pull in your chest stopped you. Ronin was up in an instant, hands hovering, but not touching, watching carefully.

“Easy there,” he murmured. “Don’t go tearing my money’s worth.”

You rolled your eyes. “Your money?”

He smirked. “Told ya, babe. You should’ve come to me sooner.”

Something in his expression softened then, just for a second, so fleeting you could’ve imagined it. But his fingers twitched, and his gaze flickered down to your bandages like he was checking to make sure you were still whole.

Like he was making sure you were still you.

The realization sat heavy between you, unspoken. Ronin didn’t do things unless they benefited him. But he had done this for you.

For a second, you wondered why.

Then he clapped his hands together, shattering the moment.

“Alright, alright, enough sentimental bullshit,” he grinned. “You gotta rest, heal up."

You woke up in a motel room that smelled like cheap liquor and blood—probably Ronin’s, though it was hard to tell. Your chest was wrapped tight, fresh gauze stark against your skin. Moving hurt, but it was a good hurt, a hurt that felt like freedom.

"Look who’s alive," Ronin drawled from his perch on the windowsill, flipping a butterfly knife open and closed in lazy motions. "Thought for a second you were gonna punk out on me. Would've been real inconvenient."

You groaned, shifting carefully. "You stayed?"

"’Course I did." He hopped down, crouching next to the bed with a shit-eating grin. "Ain’t every day I help someone reconstruct themselves. Kinda poetic, don’tcha think?"

You stared at him, at the way his eyes flicked over you—not in judgment, not in pity, but in something dangerously close to understanding.

"How bad is it?" you asked, voice hoarse.

Ronin smirked, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a cracked handheld mirror.

“Take a look, baby boy.”

Your hands trembled as you took it. Carefully, you lifted the mirror to see—

Your chest.

Flat.

For the first time in your life, it was yours.

Ronin was the one who helped you sit up, one hand braced against your back, the other carefully maneuvering a pill bottle.

"Alright, sweetheart, open up," he cooed, shaking out a couple of painkillers into his palm. "Be a good boy and take your meds."

You gave him the weakest glare imaginable, but you opened your mouth anyway, letting him pop the pills onto your tongue. He pressed a water bottle into your hand next, watching as you swallowed them down.

“There we go," he murmured, voice softer than usual. "That’s my guy.”

Your chest ached, but it wasn’t the same ache you’d carried all your life. This was a healing kind of pain, a pain that meant change.

Ronin flopped onto the mattress next to you, sprawled like he owned the place, but his attention stayed locked on you.

"You get it now, don’tcha?" he mused, one hand resting lazily on his own stomach. "That feeling—like you finally belong to yourself."

You nodded slowly.

Ronin smirked, but something in his expression flickered. His fingers drummed against his stomach once, twice—then he grabbed your wrist, guiding your hand toward him.

"Go ahead," he said, voice still playful, but gentler. "Feel it."

You hesitated, then let your fingers graze over his torso. The material of his hoodie was worn soft, but you could feel it—raised scar tissue beneath, the subtle differences in how his body had been reshaped.

“You—”

"Mmhm," Ronin hummed, watching your reaction. "Back alley job, just like yours. It ain't pretty, and it sure as fuck wasn’t easy, but it’s mine."

Your throat tightened. You’d thought he was just helping you, that he was playing his usual games. You hadn’t expected this.

Ronin stretched, cracking his neck. "Funny, huh? People think you’re born into something, but nah—you make yourself. Cut away the parts that don’t fit. Build somethin’ new." His grin sharpened. "That’s real power, sweetheart. That’s being alive."

You exhaled shakily. "Yeah. I get it."

Ronin clicked his tongue, ruffling your hair like you were a puppy. "Good. Now get some rest, or I’m gonna have to knock you out myself."

You smirked, letting your eyes slip shut.

[pancake404]

Poppy's Angel: Possibly the Scariest/Most Unknown Character in the Factory + A bit of Theories

One thing that has been on my mind lately ever since Chapter 4 was the protagonist we play as, the "Employee" that apparently everyone knows is an employee that worked here but no one knows exactly who they are.

In the eyes of the toys, the Protagonist could be one of the scariest people in the factory. Think about it, from their perspective, this unknown "employee" shows up on the side of Poppy randomly and in the same 1-2 days, kills off three Bigger Bodies(or two unless Catnap could be considered an unintentional team effort) as well as defeats a couple of other larger toys, getting them killed as well. These toys survived for the whole decade straight, doing pretty well as they were decently capable and strong and then the Player shows up and kills them. Not only that but this person, this thing, doesn't ever talk. No matter who they're conversing with, they never speak back regardless of whether it is Poppy, Dogday, or Doey. So they're like this silent executioner that survived enough to be in the Safe Haven. We then kill the Doctor, Yarnaby, and get the Omnihand which the other toys presumignly couldn't reach for years because of the Doctor.

In some complaints, I hear that there isn't an option to save certain characters like Dogday or Doey. But about those deaths as well as the deaths of other toys, the Player doesn't speak but more or less, just continues on. I see a lot of kind Player characters who want to save them but do we ever know about the intentions or thought process of the Player? No. We don't. For all we know, the Player might not care much about any toy that dies as they just continue on to find the exit. They seem willing to do Poppy's plan of blowing everything up, killing all the toys as even after Doey puts his concerns down on the table, the Player just continues with Poppy's plan(they also don’t say anything once they find Save Haven blown up). Once it backfires and Doey tweaks out, the Player kills him in self-defense yet no indication of remorseful or joyful thought. Instead, they continue on again. There is no other option and it could be solely based on the Player's character and mindset instead of being a forced tragic story(don't get me wrong, it is tragic).

That's also the thing, even when Dogday states,

"You're Poppy's Angel. Come to save us."

The Player...wasn't here to save the toys. They wanted to leave immediately and Poppy prevented them. Poppy forced them to stay and here the Player was. It also doesn't help the fact that the Player just watched Dogday die which some can argue is because it was too late to save him but it can also be argued that the Player chose not to for whatever reason(or maybe nothing could’ve been done).

If anything, I'd argue the opposite about saving the toys. The Player at this point has been killing all of them which could be stated as a mercy kill but like how the Doctor questions, are we really morally right? Don't tell me crushing, electrocution, mutilation, blending, and dropping toys fifty stories down was out of mercy. Those are some painful mercy kills. The Doctor's last line that the Player didn't save anyone is...true, no one was saved. No one had justice, they just were killed and/or disposed of like they just empty toys.

The Player might not be doing this out of the intention to save anyone as they just do what they're tasked. What they're told.

But even Poppy doesn’t seem to know the Player as well as she thinks. She doesn’t seem to know anyone as well as she thinks at this point(maybe besides Kissy). Poppy shows us the HoJ tape when there’s evidence that shows the Player already knew about it, if not contributed to it. Poppy states the Player didn’t do anything wrong which I’m saying…uh, BS. Clearly the Player’s own mind disagrees with the hallucination segments, they did something in the past as well as come here and kill off toys and are now set to kill more. Poppy talks about monsters who’ve tortured us even though there’s more evidence of us being the torturer. The Player wanted to leave, not stay here any further but they’re stopped by Poppy sabotaging the train. And at the end, Poppy very quickly doubts the Player’s involvement in planting explosives and is angry at us for killing Doey. It’s funny because the Player was casually following Poppy’s plan and was ready to just blow up the factory and everyone in it.

All of this while the Player's origins are more or less unknown as to what role they played in the factory. Unless they're P.W.(of course it's just an initial) which the evidence seems to suggest, then that means they were a biologist who worked on the Bigger Bodies. Further proven by Chapter Three where it is mentioned that the Player has guilt haunting them and that they've done something. Doctor Sawyer also wonders how Playtime Co. missed someone with this skillset which matches with the P.W. book and how they describe how no one listens to their ideas.

So far, there are a couple of theories regarding the Player's character.

One, the Player is PW:

Already explained a bit.

Would be funny since PW does describe Dogday as "boring" which is ironic given how the fandom treats him and has the "Angel" constantly save him.

From what I've seen and read, does show hints of remorse for experimentation on orphans but generally stays objective in their notes with a little bit of sass to it. It matches the Player's attitude of.... absolutely no reaction besides staring back.

Also fits the mindset of taking orders and doing what they're told to do like good employees for the company which mirrors how the Player just listens to Poppy's idea and proceeds to attempt to blow up the whole place.

Sounds reasonable.

Two, the Player is an experiment that looks almost if not perfectly human:

This sounds like a twist Mob would make.

Poppy’s line about monsters who’ve tortured the Player would make more sense in this context though that implies she knows we’re an experiment which no one hints at.

It would provide an explanation for why the Player doesn't talk as they might literally can't similar to Kissy Missy. Everyone talks to the Player like they talk to Kissy Missy.

It would also provide a reason why we're considered an employee but no one really recognizes us as well besides Miss Delight and Mommy who doesn't seem to describe much of the Player besides remembering them. Maybe, experimentation caused the Player to look a little different.

It provides canonical information on game mechanics like the Player not running out of sprint ever or surviving the last fall in Chapter Four, falling head first onto hard rock from a decent height and just getting up. Also, surviving the train crash though the Player does pull the brakes on it.

In Chapter Three, during the hallucinations, the Player takes the place of Huggy, a giant toy. The Prototype looms over them which tends to suggest his control over the other experiments.

They might also deal with memory issues as we see more and more of remembering conversations and questioning what the Player knows or doesn't know. We do know that experimentation could impact an individual's memory to a large extent.

Would be interesting to see.

The Player feels guilty about the Hour of Joy....because of their involvement in it.

Going back to the hallucination segment in Chapter Three, we take the place of Huggy Wuggy on his stand while we hear bells ring and the workers scream during the Hour of Joy. The issue with this is that the Player, according to Poppy, doesn't know about the Hour of Joy as the Player hasn't been shown the tape yet. So how can they have a clear idea about what the Hour of Joy was?

Answer: They Knew. They already knew about the Hour of Joy.

This could be what the Player had done, what drove them to stay away from the factory for a decade straight, and why they didn't show up that day.

Sort of a coincidence that the Player just didn't show up that day as well as never came to check on their MISSING COWORKERS anytime before a decade later.

The Player also is told that they should've been there on that exact date and that they missed the party and event which was the Hour of Joy. On the radio, they ask, why weren't they there? They have no right to be here.

Why would they do this? Well, the Prototype was more than capable and willing to pretend to be an ally as well as be intelligent enough to manipulate. Maybe he used the guilt of experimenting on orphans to get the Player to start the first domino to begin the Hour of Joy. In a twisted way, the Player came here for coworkers that they knew were dead because of the Player's hands.

The Doctor also mentions in a tape that Playtime Co. is filled with backstabbers and traitors so there probably was a conspirator(the Player. He also mentioned Poppy being involved so hidden involvement is put into question). Although still unclear, the Player being described as unknown to everyone could help in sneaking things through or doing something unnoticed to set up the Hour of Joy.

The Player is an ordinary worker: Unlikely, evidence seems to show the opposite.

The Player is Rich: What was Rich doing for ten years? Isn't this guy known to have a temper and is willing to argue with others. Still can be possible though I don't see it.

The Player is an orphan turned employee: You would think a couple more toys would recognize us. We would be more social with the toys that we most likely knew in the factory beforehand as the Bigger Bodies were not kept away from the children.

My personal belief is a combination of PW theory and HoJ Contributor. PW seemingly felt guilty about the experiments, the Prototype(both would be in the Labs) used this to his advantage to convince him, and PW, being decently smart yet unrecognized set it up where the Hour of Joy could happen. PW then felt guilty because he set up where a lot of his coworkers, some being possibly innocent died as well which is why they stayed out of the factory for so long. That letter must've been a bad reminder and out of their conscience, decided to come over where the game begins.

Harley Sawyer also questions if the Player lost someone they loved here which going along with this theory could either hint that someone they loved here has been experimented on and turned into an experiment(if it goes like this, watch it be the Prototype) or someone had died during the Hour of Joy...which is also bad because this theory states the HoJ was contributed by the Player.

Just a bunch of ideas and thoughts.

The Player could be an interesting character as we hardly know anything yet we have more and more clues throughout the chapter. I do believe they will be a decent bit significant in Chapter 5.

But one last thing, I don’t know if Catnap is just stuck in my head but in a way, the Player is like Catnap on the opposite side. The Player is forced into this situation by Poppy but the Player also shows a weird loyalty to Poppy considering they just do whatever they’re tasked to by her. Kill the Doctor? Got it. Kill Catnap? Sure. Blow up the factory and everyone in it? Absolutely. A lot of deaths are done brutally and the Player doesn’t speak so he’s just silently staring as it happens as I imagine Catnap does given his character, we all know about Dogday. Both are tied with religious themes like being a follower of a God or being an Angel. Also, the main chapter with the hallucinations about our past is in chapter three provided by Catnap. Just some examples.

Feel free to share any thoughts.

[tsukiko31]

Ok, I have feelings and I go on a rant...

I think we are also forgetting that the Walburga and Orion are proud and political figures that care about appearences. Of course they did not carry the Dark Mark, they were not going to put all their eggs in one basket. They are smarter than that, but no less Pureblood supremacists that consider everyone else scum.

Yes absolutely Regulus did a shitty and very wrong thing. He has horrible beliefs in canon. And this IS a direct result of his upbringing. If this is the only thing you are exposed to, you are abused and threatened into obedience? Well, a lot of people would sucumb to this. Which is why cults are horrible things even in real life. It IS a very serious form of abuse. THE ONLY REASON Sirius Black managed to escape and grow some morals, because let's face it, he did shitty and horrible things too, is BECAUSE he befriended James Potter. His family was sufficiently influential to help him out if that place. He had somewhere to run to. He had an out. Also James, Remus and Peter have influenced him heavily since his first year.

DID REGULUS HAVE THIS? Not according to everything in canon. And does this justify and excuse his horrible beliefs? Absolutely not. But that is not the point of fanon.

Fanon is seeing a little sliver of chance that someone can be redeemed and exploiting those avenues. It is built of whatifs. It is the 1 million chances and differing circumstances that this 1 character did not recieve.

In canon I will point out that Regulus cared for the one being that was a constant in his life. That was devoted and did not abandon him or abuse him. Because everyone else in his life did. This is why Kreacher is important to him, regardless of the fact that he is a literal slave bound to his family. He showed kindness to Regulus. Something Kreacher was not obbligated to do, seeing as how he cannonically was a little shit towards everyone in Order of the Phoenix.

But whilst he also has been spurres into action by Kreacher, he chose to try and do something about the Horcrux. It's not like he had to. He could have saved his elf, investigated and been like well shucks, I ain't touching that with a 10 foot pole. His reasoning from the letter could be interpreted in a million more ways. And he also chose to poison himself and send his elf away. This all we know from canon.

Of course he had a shrine to purblood surpemacist in his bedroom as well. What did you expect? He was in a cult he entered willingly because he was indoctrinated and conditioned to believe in that.

So, we come back to purpose of fanon. It is to take a FICTIONAL CHARACTER, and mould this character to fit their own morals and beliefs whilst playing around with the few canon bits that are appealing to them.m, whilst absolutely ignoring the bits they hate.

Cannonically, James Potter was a horrible spoilt little shit as far as we can tell from the horrible memory Snape had. Remus and Sirius couldn't even deny it!

Sirius spurred James on! He was just as bad, and he didn't grow out of that schoolyard mentality due to Azkaban.

Remus was a coward and watched. He regrets is but that is what he did.

Peter admired James and Sirius for it.

These might be minor ofense because they were on the right side of history, but they have so much potential to go in the most darkest of directions based on their cannonical description. And some people in fandom do go there.

At the end of the day, if it bother people, they can choose to block the tags from their life. I know it is difficult, but not unachievable.

This rant applies to Severus Snape, and Peter Pettigrew too.

"Villain and Violent, Infant and Innocent" is Regulus Black. He was juat a kid, a very impressionable kid who just wanted his parents to be proud of him, and at the end of the day, that's what we all want right?

[for-the-love-of-this]

Just an abstraction waiting to happen.

I transcribed most of this from my tiktok video. Tumblr is new to me when it comes to posting, so this could be templated wrong, I shall see. If you'd rather not read, you can check the video on the first image if I paste the link correctly.

Alright, let's try this one last time.

—

If there's one thing this show is consistent with. It's foreshadowing.

Also parallels, but they go hand in hand.

The focus in this post, however, will be on Ragatha, with a little bit of Gangle wrapped in (ribbon pun intended).

A light bulb lit up in my head after I read this post on tumblr. I had to rush to write the idea down in my notes because I have the mind of a polished coconut. (I highly recommend you read their other analysis posts, and heck, there's something there for shippers too).

Basically, I will be mentioning scenes that I believe are hints for our people pleasing rag dolly becoming the most likely to abstract character of the group.

First of all, Ragatha already had a taste of what abstraction felt like. Pomni did as well, but only from trying to help her up. (Can I just add that they shared a spark-)

She told Ragatha that she would go find Caine, but unfortunately she never did come back after she finds herself lured by the exit door.

If Ragatha were to end up fully abstracted, I would like to think Pomni finds a way to not fail her this time around. Although, abstraction does appear to be a permanent fate. Maybe.

Now back to the tumblr post. It was mentioned that Gangle and Ragatha reflect each other. Both are masking a happy facade, except one doesn't use an actual mask.

So with that parallel between them in mind.

Almost everyone thought Gangle would abstract in this scene…

if it weren't for Pomni's intervention.

So if Gangle was saved… and she's a mirror of Ragatha… our ragdoll will not be so lucky. And that would mean Pomni won't be enough, or even around, to save her this time.

But I keep thinking about the pilot. I want to hold onto the hope of that failed trust being a lesson on what not to do when a close friend is on the brink of insanity, and that Pomni or anyone else has learned from it.

[robo-milky]

hiii milkyyyy! u’ve been popping out so many manga pages and i’m just so amazed?? i’ve been wanting to get back to manga drawing so can i ask for some tips? like what’s your process and how do you decide the screen tones/sfx/effects/speechbubbles to use? the latter is something i’m struggling with 😭

tyyy 💕

Hi Yudi, thanks for dropping by!

General note: One thing I’ve learned about trying to go for a more manga-esque style is that there’s really no particular way to do it, and EVERY artist does it differently. Everything I do here is a blend of my own style and things from JP artists I admire! However, the most important thing is that panels aren’t meant to be masterpieces but to convey information and get the dialogue going.

This process will be CSP oriented. I’ve made a mini screen tone tutorial (and how to turn on Layer Property) but I did not talk about my own settings ^^ You’re free to do any resolution you want, though I stick to drawing on a B4 template for fun (and imagine that one day my stuff can get published /j). I hope this helps, as I’m still trying to figure my own style and set limits on the details too.

[Process]

Script + Thumbnail

I used to wing stuff for one-pagers, but now I’ve found that scripting and thumbnailing has made my process so much faster. (Omg it’s almost like people make drafts for a reason- @ me cause I hate planning)

There’s no standards of a comic script, and each publisher has their own format. My usual scripts don’t separate pages, since I leave that to the thumbnailing once I do dialogue placement. If trying to imagine panels without seeing them overwhelming, at least get the dialogue down.

The B4 thumbnail template I use is pretty darn big, so it also doubles as the sketching stage. Once the thumbnails are done, I transfer them (screenshot) to a comic file on CSP. Once the set up is done, I do speech bubbles + dialogue first, insert the frames, then get to the line art. Since I don’t think anyone is actually gonna print their works, you’re free to trim your canvas however you want to post online 🫡

Speech Bubbles

Any speech bubble can work and will eventually blend in as the viewer is reading, but I have a vendetta against super flat/digital-looking ones. I made a custom brush for a textured speech bubble pen with line width by adjusting its taper and changing the brush shape. Published manga are a different story, but I like the more organic polygonal bubble shapes from indie artists-

For different shapes and situation… Squares - Narration, Flash/Urchin - Character thoughts/internal monologue, Hexagon - Phone call/text (not a concrete rule but a common pattern)

You can also add emanata (sparkles/symbols) on the bubbles for flairs as you see fit.

Screen tone (Please read the linked mini-tutorial above)

I split my tones into two folders. One specifically for black, and greys.

I first fill in all black areas, the duplicate them. The top layer will be the shadows (remains pure black), and the bottom layer is set to [Opacity 75%] and turned into a screen tone layer with a [frequency of 45-50] (It must always be at a lower frequency than the greys). To add texture, I use a grainy brush to erase bits of pure black on a mask. To show light on the screen tone layer, I use gradient erase on a mask.

For the greys, I split them into three tones (dark grey, medium grey, light grey) all in the same folder so they don’t overlap and it’s easier to fix. I use a [frequency of 75] or any number higher than the screen tone in the black layer. Overall, tones can be as simple and complex as you want, but it’s best to save more detailed tones for important panels. (Planning to change this as I’ve realized how big the B4 canvas actually is, and the frequency doesn’t need to be so high- The size of screen tone is a preference. This example was done on a smaller canvas, so higher frequencies still look less pixelated/small.)

Emanata/SFX

Special effects is whatever the situation calls for! It can to make a blank canvas feel more dynamic, to evoke certain emotions, hint/foreshadow. It’s best used sparingly on important panels you think would be the most important… but how do you get those effects?

THE CLIP STUDIO ASSETS STORE- Or draw/download your own depending on the program (You have no idea- ever since I downloaded too, I can’t unsee them in other works of artists I like 😭) Not used in the example but these are my essentials- You can also find a lot of gems if you straight up search “manga” and see the most popular assets.

Another good place to find comic fonts in general is blambot.com (?). They have quite a bit of free, personal use fonts if you ever need flavour text when italics or bold isn’t enough. (Current font used is Anime Ace 3 Regular BB).

Happy creating and feel free to ask if anything was unclear ^^

[psychemochanight]

You know what I’ve been thinking about lately? If Dick ever feels the tiniest bit of remorse/guilt for his Robin legacy, and the seemingly unattainable bar he set for everyone else.

DC’s timeline is nebulous at best, but the one I personally like is him losing his parents at 8, being take in by Bruce and trained for a year before debuting as Robin at 9 or so. Just imagine this tiny child in all his acrobatic glory, kicking ass and taking names next to Batman, a hero in his own right. Yes some suspension of disbelief has to be taken into place (I work with kids this age and they can be so *tiny* and in the real world Batman would absolutely be side-eyed hardcore for having a child superhero partner lol), but Robin's cackle and tricks probably make his enemies just as weary as Batman's shadow.

But once Dick grows up, does a part of him ever regret the role he played in making child heroes mainstream? No one could argue against Robin being an absolute asset and badass in the field, and he probably saved Batman more times than he could count, but he was so young and putting his life at risk everytime he donned the costume. And his legacy inspires a whole new wave of child heroes, heroes that may have never started so young if Robin didn't pave the way.

At the time I'm sure Dick was just happy to have people to finally relate to, but once he's grown up enough, does he ever have moments of doubts? Does he ever blame himself for making it almost normal for children to risk their lives? Does part of himself blame his legacy for part of Jason's death? Idk I'm just feeling emotions on Dick and his legacy, the first child hero, the one who survived where others did not.

I just saw a while ago a... Tiktok? Post? I don't remember what exactly, but it mentioned something similar to this.

"Children who died in your suit, using your name".

On the one hand, Dick doesn't actually seem to be against there being young heroes as long as they are being watched and cared for, so I'd say he doesn't regret what he did, but there is evidence that, as an adult, he thinks that perhaps he should not have started his crusade so young.

He has no regrets about being Robin, but there's no doubt that he's thought about what his childhood would have been like if he'd never become a hero as a child.

Dick does have feelings of guilt, in fact. He does not have these "identity crises" that are sometimes attributed to him, but he has a strong guilt complex, in addition to survivor syndrome.

I feel like, depending on the situation, it could be valid to say that Dick feels guilty about his legacy, knowing that it put so many children in danger.

Also, I sometimes wonder if Dick also feels that while Robin became a legacy of hope, was also stained with blood and pain.

Despite everything, I want to think that he knows that he also helped many children, and that thanks to his inspiration, there are invaluable heroes in his time.

... Although, yes, I think he would still prefer that they not become heroes at 8-9 years old and at least wait until their teens to begin their crusade-

[ladykatibeth]

Not to pull out your tags, but I think this is an interesting thing to grapple with! There’s two major things from this perspective I often see and differ on is it’s an either/or perspective and a “only Ellen is feeling the effects of the “normal” social roles in the marriage” perspective.

Firstly I think that Thomas granted her something that Orlok couldn’t—open love and a sense of normalcy. Thomas being in the picture actively helped Ellen’s symptoms (that she expressed were painful and uncomfortable) lessen, and it’s notable that when he leaves these symptoms start to return. She is actively benefited by his presence (mainly as her emotional support). This does not mean she wasn’t also fulfilled by Orlok as well (in a you understand me/I understand you) way.

People need multiple things, and rarely can they get all their needs filled by a single person. It’s an unhealthy expectation. That doesn’t mean a relationship can’t work out that doesn’t include every need being fulfilled, just that you need many people in your life to meet needs. Anna supports Ellen when Thomas is having nightmares, for example. Ellen needs the open love Thomas provides, and she needs someone who can relate to her darkness and that’s okay. She can’t get both from a single person.

In terms of Thomas I don’t think he’s reacting ordinarily to what’s going on. Definitely not for his society, but also not generally. Most victorian men wouldn’t put their all into supporting their wives in their mental illness, or even marry someone with that sort of history attached to begin with.

They also mostly wouldn’t support their wife after she summoned a monster and then hold her through being possessed. I’m thinking most modern day spouses wouldn’t either ngl that man is devoted.

However I also think that Thomas’s hyper concern for filling his gender role, combined with the fact that the vampiric symbol of victorian repression fed on him in a scene mirroring the repression symbols feeding of Ellen, implies that Thomas isn’t really easily living up to these standards either (the why is up to interpretation, personally I think he’s bi).

The single provider social dynamic puts stress on him as well, especially as the expectation of men to not be weak keeps him from being able to connect with Ellen over their shared vampire trauma (something that would benefit them both.)

I also think that we need to be considering it in terms of a partnership if we want to have an anti-sexist reading. Thomas couldn’t save Ellen because she didn’t need saving. The emotional support Thomas provides is more important than heroics, and he succeeds at the former way more than the later.

They’re cutting the honeymoon short, meaning it’s likely they weren’t in a committed relationship as we would describe it (they would have been restricted to chaperoned dates and letters before being wed) until at most a couple months before this, so they didn’t really have an opportunity to work out any issues (an inevitable part of the relationship process, issues will naturally come up more once their lives conjoin).

Not very soon after they move in together, Thomas experiences trauma fairly similar to hers and gets some similar symptoms (nightmares) and some separate symptoms (she has seizures/sleepwalks/gets possessed, while he is physically messed up from the draining/jumping off a building/sprint to get home) putting them on equal footing in terms of needing support.

He didn’t “let her down” any more than she did him. She chose to keep him in the dark to sacrifice herself. She didn’t tell him about the evil vampire ex (fair given their society but still) he didn’t listen to her about the bad vibes of the business trip. Choices made all around.

Neither of them really talk about it though. By the end it isn’t just a woman failing to receive support through her trauma, it’s two traumatized people handling it in very different ways and making choices based in that. We don’t know if it would have worked out, because they never got the chance or time to even really try, and yet they still gave it their all anyway.

It’s kind of crazy to me that Thomas gets flak for trying to get to work on time, or taking a job assignment, despite his wife being worried about it. It’s not really greedy for a lower middle class man with debt and a wife to support (because societal expectations mean she can’t work) to care about not losing his job and it’s not greedy for him to want a slightly better paying job.

It’s also not a reflection of lack of intimacy/love/trust between Thomas and Ellen that he makes financial stability a priority.

Also that the flowers scene is a reflection of Thomas not understanding Ellen, because she says she’s upset about the flowers dying. She’s just had a dream that messed her up that had lilacs in it. It’s not about him getting her flowers it’s about him getting her lilacs after she just had a nightmare heavily featuring them combined with the stress over his upcoming trip. She’s upset about what the flowers represent (a bad omen and a result of him apologizing for leaving for the trip) not him getting her flowers.

[bwat5-blog]

Vander & Sevika

**Spoilers For Arcane**

Somehow my blocked tags were briefly freed from prison- don't be afraid they have all been apprehended. But in that small moment, I saw a rogue critter (who I will not be naming or re-blogging) saying that implying Sevika was mirroring Vander's lesson with "we don't hand over our people" was incorrect, because Vander did not actually care about his people and she was always fighting for Zaun.

I'm not gonna do a whole thing here. Honestly at the moment I am too tired. But thankfully this doesn't require it.

Vander: Made a deal to keep Enforcers out of the Undercity as long as Zaunites didn't cause trouble in top side.

Is this freedom for Zaun? Obviously not. He tried, he saw how terribly things went and how horrific the cost was, including him losing his mind and almost killing Silco, and he chose an unequal peace to protect his adopted family and his people. It is not a perfect situation. But it is what he could do to stop the bleeding. No he didn't strap on his gauntlets and charge back over the bridge no matter the cost in lives. He chose to save as many as he could even it meant a less than perfect solution.

When he knew he was facing death at Silco's hands, he didn't beg for his own life. He begged him to spare The Lanes.

Sevika: Fought alongside Vander until he chose the path he did. She then betrayed him. Was complicit in not only his death but the deaths of two teenage boys she for sure would have known as they were growing up, tried to take her turn in the "let's murder the fifteen year old girl" party against Vi who she also definitely knew, and when it was all said and done helped Silco release a dangerous, highly addictive and unstable drug that can turn people into monsters on the people she was supposedly fighting for.

Not to mention her intentionally lying to Jinx about Caitlyn. With the clearly expressed intent of destabilizing her to the point that Silco would toss her out and leave her all alone. After Sevika played a part in orphaning Jinx a second time already.

So to be clear:

Vander: Made a deal that chose peace over independence

Sevika: Helped Silco unleash a horrific drug on her own people, and of the four Zaunite orphans (the people she is defending of course) that grew up around her she is directly complicit in the deaths of two, tries to kill one at least three times including a successful stabbing and once when she is only fifteen, and after helping orphan the other and ABSOLUTELY being near enough to notice her mental health declining as she got older deliberately lied to her hoping to destabilize her to the point that she would be orphaned again.

Sure though. Fuck Vander.

**NOW**--

Fair is fair. Sevika starts getting her shit together in season two. She tries to get the Chem-Barons to stop ripping Zaun apart. She won't hand over Jinx, she is holding rallies trying to unite her people, and fights on the frontline when they join the war. And of course finishes the show as their voice. But to try and shit on Vander in comparison because Sevika was "always" fighting for Zaun. Yall can do better.

After all, between her two leaders, only one of their teachings would resonate with her seeking peace and cooperating between the cities for everyone's gain

[erulasse23]

Frodo & PTSD: Symptoms

You can find part one on the definition and causes of trauma here. This post will review what the symptoms of PTSD are and how Frodo demonstrates them in the trilogy.

I don’t particularly like using the DSM to describe symptoms of trauma because the criteria for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) are very limited and specific. Trauma can have a much wider ranging and subtler impact even if one does not meet all of the criteria for PTSD. However, it does provide four helpful categories for discussing symptoms.

1. Intrusion: flashbacks, intrusive thoughts, nightmares, etc.

2. Avoidance: both of external or internal reminders of the trauma

3. Negative changes to thoughts or mood: depression, anxiety, negative self-image, paranoia, guilt, memory loss

4. Arousal/Reactivity: irritability, sleep disturbance, impulsivity, difficulty concentrating, easily startled

PTSD can also be with or without symptoms of dissociation, i.e. feeling that the self or surroundings are unreal, distant, or dreamlike. Dissociation can be placed in the arousal category as it represents an under-arousal of the nervous system (The freeze response out of fight/flight/freeze). I would argue that Frodo demonstrates symptoms in all four categories, but particularly intrusion with dissociation. I have to note that some of Frodo’s symptoms could be caused by the magic of the ring or the wraiths, but I still believe it’s an accurate reflection of how people respond to trauma in a non-magical world.

Intrusion: Frodo is described as having flashbacks on multiple occasions. In The Two Towers, after seeing a Black Rider, Frodo takes longer to recover then Sam or Gollum. It says “His eyes were closed, as if he were dreaming, or looking inward into his heart and memory.” In The Return of the King, Arwen tells Frodo that he can sail, “If… the memory of your burden is heavy…” and later, there are three flashbacks described. Two are on the anniversary of the Nazgûl stabbing Frodo, and one on the anniversary of him being captured by the orcs at Cirith Ungol.

Here is how they are described:

“His eyes appeared not to see them or things about him… ‘The memory of darkness is heavy on me,’ [said Frodo.]”

“He seemed half in a dream. ‘It is gone forever,’ he said, ‘and now all is dark and empty.’”

“His eyes seemed to see things far away… ‘I am wounded,’ he answered, ‘wounded; it will never really heal.’”

Frodo is also implied to have nightmares, particularly while in Cirith Ungol.

Avoidance: This is clearest on two occasions. First, when presented with honor after the Ring is destroyed, Frodo at first refuses to wear a sword. Later, during the scouring of the Shire, Frodo refuses to carry a sword or hurt anyone. I think this can be interpreted as Frodo avoiding an uncomfortable reminder of his trauma.

Thought & Mood: The longer that Frodo carries the Ring, the more tired and sad he becomes. He begins to despair of living past the destruction of the Ring. He is weary, exhausted, and feels that the Ring is a physically heavy burden as well as emotionally. He tires quicker than Sam. After the Ring is gone, however, his depression does not entirely lift. He feels that he has changed, and therefore the Shire is no longer the safe haven it once was. He does not find joy in his life there as he did before.

‘But,’ said Sam, and tears started in his eyes. ‘I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire too for years and years after all you have done.’

‘So I thought too once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me.’

Arousal: I am going to go ahead and place dissociative symptoms into this category for ease. Frodo does become easily startled and irritable while in Mordor with the Ring. Frodo also experiences somewhat of a dissociative state during his flashbacks, as previously described. Apart from those instances, he also at least twice becomes blinded after encountering a wraith and says that all appears dark, and he cannot see. In The Two Towers, after passing the dead marshes, while he is on watch, “He lost count of time, hovering between sleep and waking.” After the Witch-King passes in the Morgul Valley, he hears Sam‘s voice “at a great distance, as if it came out of memories of the Shire…” While under direct influence from the Nazgûl, particularly directly after he is stabbed, he sees the world as shadowed and misty.

Let me know your thoughts, and I will see you back for part three on healing from trauma.