#god. what can i say to encompass this horror

[greencarnation]

This is Ayat Khaddura. She is a journalist. Here is her last video before she was killed in Northern Gaza

[reidrum]

the many names | s.r

a/n: i could not get the idea that spencer would have little explanations for all the names he has for you so i give you this enjoy

summary: in which the many names that spencer calls you each have a special meaning

cw: mind rotting fluff

wc: 1.1k

honey:

spencer’s childhood was anything but ordinary. graduating high school at 12, with a schizophrenic mother, and an absentee father is a combo meant to mess anyone up. the one thing he felt was constant were the sitcoms his mother would watch when she had her good days. shows like i love lucy and cheers filled his ears as he watched the picture perfect families navigate through mundane and seemingly normal scenarios. the comfort he found in these televised families, something he wasn’t afforded in his own, was a nice little bandaid on the gaping hole left by the oddities of his life.

until he met you, of course. you changed everything for him, showed him what it meant to be loved and cherished, what family really was outside of the textbook definition. as a young boy he’d always envied ricky ricardo coming home to lucy at the end of every work day, bursting through the door and saying “honey, i’m home!” the phrase itself encompassed what he so dearly longed for; a home.

so when spencer calls you honey, he means it because you’re sweet and sappy and all the things normally associated with honey. but for him, specifically, when he gets to come back from harsh cases, bursting through the door of your shared apartment yelling “honey, i’m home!”, it heals that gaping hole from his childhood little by little, replacing the wound with the home you’ve built together.

sweetheart:

for someone who absolutely loves sweet things, calling you sweetheart was an obvious title in his book. the way you cared so deeply for the people in your life, the people you didn’t know, even those involved in heinous crimes were offered some of your never ending empathy. it inspired him, to know that someone who sees the true horrors of humankind on the daily can still hold hope and love for the world’s inhabitants.

when spencer calls you sweetheart, it’s in the more domestic moments of your lives. when he asks which tea you want, when he can tell it’s been a rough day and he lets you rest in the comfort of his arms saying “it’s okay, sweetheart. i’m here now.”, when he leaves you long and loving voicemails for when you’re not able to go on cases together. spencer’s sweet tooth could probably never be satiated, but if it keeps you around forever he has no problem with that.

angel:

calling you angel is still something he finds a little ironic. he’s an agnostic atheist, has no faith in the gods or whatever power that may be. he’d always say if you couldn’t find it in a textbook then it’s not a real thing. but here you were, defying literally everything he ever knew or thought he knew. spencer thinks that if angels were personified they would surely look like you.

his job has so many moments that put him in near death situations, he’s not proud of how many times he’s felt the pearly gates come for him. but every time he was close to that end, flashes of you would roll through his mind like a movie reel and it would tether him back to this realm.

add to that, you just always happened to be there when he needed you. if he was about to drop a cup of coffee you’d be there grab it, you had his back when you were on the field together, and you’d let him talk your ear off about the most obscure topic just to see him smile.

if proof existed for the theoretical, it would be you. you were his guardian angel, and he never let you forget it.

princess:

this one was rare, only invoked in the super intimate and special moments between you both. usually in the bedroom is where you hear this one used in both sides of the extreme. on one side he says it when you’re being just so needy, so pliant and willing for whatever he wants it just makes him want to give you everything in return. on the other side, when you’re being for lack of a better word, a brat, it’s used as a tease, a taunt for your slutty bad behavior. a reminder that even though you’re spoiled by him he’s still going to give you the world.

it’s also used when you both get dressed up, for an fbi event or a party at rossi’s. it always takes the wind out of him when he sees you getting ready or you come out to show your outfit to him. it makes him feel like falling in love with you again every time, like he’s been so blessed to live a fairytale where he prevails and gets the princess at the end.

baby:

calling you baby is quite literally second nature to spencer, probably the easiest thing for him to do. it slips out all the time people might think baby is your real name. he uses it when he asks what you want for dinner, when you’re upset over something he did at work that put him in danger, when he just really wants you to watch this one russian romance film he finally got his hands on and promises you’ll love it.

you also find it really funny to play songs that you know he doesn’t know that have the word baby in it, because even if he doesn’t know the words to always be my baby to mariah carey, it never stops him from giving you the biggest smile in the universe when he listens to you belt the song to him.

pretty girl:

he didn’t even come up with this one, derek did. stemming from his nickname for spencer, when derek realized that there was something between you and pretty boy, it just became so easy to get under his skin and call you pretty girl, telling him “don’t look now, your pretty girl is coming.”. before you had started dating and spencer was just pining from afar, he would get so red in the face when derek would let the name slip.

after he finally grew some balls and asked you out, spencer adopted the name for himself to use in situations he had you alone, where he could admire you in your entirety and no other prying eyes. to use when you just wake up and the sunlight hits you perfectly like a glowing halo, or when you’re both in the office and you’re explaining something relevant to the case and you just sound so smart and beautiful, and he can’t help but truly believe that the aphrodite reincarnate is his.

[valsverse]

but i love her !

summary: to say that leo valdez is absolutely enamored with you would be an understatement. so, why don't you like him back?

pairing: leo valdez x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k

LEO VALDEZ does not just like you. no, it is much more than that.

leo's feelings for you surpass mere affection. his love for you is deep-rooted and unshakable, transcending the limitations of the heart and mind. he doesn't just love you with his heart, which can falter or stop altogether. nor does he solely love you with his mind, which may fail him one day. no, leo valdez loves you with every fiber of his being, every inch of his soul, and every essence of his existence. his love for you is all-encompassing, unequivocal, and forever enduring.

so why don't you like him back?

when you first arrived at camp, leo was immediately taken with you. while he had a reputation for falling for girls completely out of his league, this time was different. he knew deep down that he would do anything for you, even if it meant risking his own life. he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he realized this, but he was sure that you were the one he was meant to be with. despite piper's concerns, leo was undeterred in his pursuit of you.

as you sat at your usual table in the dining pavilion, enjoying dinner with your cabinmates, you were completely immersed in the moment. laughter filled the air as you chatted about your day and shared stories of past quests. just as you took a bite of your dinner, you heard your name being called out loudly and persistently. turning your head in the direction of the voice, you found leo standing right in front of your table. as you tried to recall any previous interactions with him, confusion washed over you. you've only ever spoken to the boy about a grand total of once, and you don't even remember giving him your name.

leo slipped into the empty seat next to you, his smile beaming as he waited for your reaction. gasps escaped the mouths of several of your cabinmates, because, well, isn't it forbidden to sit at another god's table?

“sooo, is this seat taken?” he asked suavely, and you mentally rolled your eyes at his attempt at charm, knowing exactly where this was going.

"well, it wouldn't matter if it's taken or not, because you aren't supposed to be sitting here in the first place."

he only smiled dreamily, seemingly unfazed by your response. the tension in the air grew thicker, and someone let out a snort, unable to contain their amusement at the situation.

it took you a moment to piece together what was happening. leo's sudden changes in behavior around you, the not-so-subtle glances, the smiles, and the way his eyes would light up - it all made sense now, although you didn't want to admit it. leo valdez had a crush on you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

leo leaned forward on the table, his chin resting on his hand. he was brimming with enthusiasm, and you couldn't help but feel just slightly uncomfortable in his presence. "can i ask you something?" he inquired eagerly, his eyes fixed on you.

you sighed inwardly, not wanting to engage but feeling obligated to respond. "do i have a choice?" you quipped, attempting to mask your discomfort. leo didn't seem to notice, too caught up in his own enthusiasm.

suddenly, he pulled out a metal rose from his pocket, presenting it to you with a flourish. "wanna be my girlfriend?" he asked, a hopeful expression on his face.

your siblings snickered around you as your eyes widened in absolute horror. your face felt hot with embarrassment as you struggled to maintain your composure.

"i practically just met you!" you protested, feeling the need to state the obvious.

he had clearly anticipated a different response, going so far as to prepare a metal bouquet in anticipation of impressing you. however, his efforts were in vain. "i'm sorry, but no." you replied firmly, not giving him any room for negotiation.

it was clear that this was not a successful attempt at romance.

from that day on, it had become the norm for leo to actively pursue you, as he had made it his mission to win your heart. you couldn't deny that he put in a great deal of effort. and he was plenty consistent. for months.

you couldn't help but notice his constant presence, as he seemed to magically appear everywhere you went, making it impossible for you to ignore him.

despite his persistent efforts, leo never pressured you into anything you were not comfortable with. he respected your boundaries and always made sure that he did not cause you any discomfort. it was clear that he adored you, but he never allowed his feelings to dictate his actions towards you.

interestingly enough, it was the reason behind your initial hatred for leo that began to fade away. unfortunately for you, once that seed of doubt was planted, there was no going back. you found yourself unable to justify your previous animosity towards him, in fact, you began to feel guilty for the ill feelings you harbored towards the boy.

after leo's clumsy attempts at asking you out, things became quite awkward between the two of you. you did everything in your power to avoid him, convincing yourself that you loathed him. however, despite your best efforts to push him away, the universe seemed to conspire to bring the two of you together. in fact, you even found yourselves forming an unlikely bond that some might even consider a friendship. leo would somehow magically appear in the same places you happened to be (though he always insisted it was a coincidence), and you found yourself unable to shoo him away as you used to do. yet, despite this newfound closeness, leo's attempts to win your heart remained as elaborate and over-the-top as ever.

from writing your name in fire surrounded by a heart, to asking you out with grand gestures and signs, he never seemed to give up. unfortunately for him, all of his efforts were met with either an indifferent stare or a frown.

maybe your feelings towards leo had changed somewhat, but that did not make him any less unbearable.

"i just don't get it!" leo complained to piper during free time that day. "i thought me and y/n were making progress, but today she didn't even look at me!"

piper paused from sharpening her dagger and looked up at leo. "what makes you think you were making progress?"

"she let me sit next to her yesterday."

piper couldn't help but let out a laugh, quickly covering it up with a cough. "that was for like two minutes," she scoffed.

leo's face fell. "but i swear i saw her wink at me a few days ago!" he protested.

"she was only blinking in your general direction."

leo mock-glared at the girl. "seriously, you're like an aphrodite kid, aren't you supposed to know this stuff?"

piper rolled her eyes. "shut up. okay, but seriously, come on. think about it. leo, you tend to get infatuated easily and your crushes never last. it's inconsistent. she probably thinks your feelings for her will change once you find someone new."

leo took a step back, not expecting her answer. "but that's not gonna happen!" he retorted, eyes wide with exasperation. "i love her, i swear!"

"prove it to her then." piper responded, running her fingers through her choppy locks. "go find her and prove it."

and that's exactly what he was going to do.

it's been days since you last saw leo. the usual sight of him following you around, asking to hold your tote bag, or just plain flirting with you is now a distant memory. your tote bag, which he usually holds for you, is now slipping off your shoulder as you sit alone with a feeling of emptiness. you've only seen him run in and out of the workshop, waving at you with the same fire in his eyes but not speaking to you. you keep looking for his head of curly hair everywhere you go, but the inevitable disappointment strikes you every time it isn't him.

although you had been trying to deny it, the truth was that you missed leo terribly. despite his occasional obnoxious flirtations, he was actually quite easy to be around — even more than that, even. maybe you had developed feelings for him that ran much deeper than you ever anticipated. you've been grappling with your emotions for quite some time now, and you were certain that your mask of indifference had already slipped off without your knowledge. you slumped against the wall you were leaning on, feeling the weight of your emotions.

if leo were here, he would have moved you to somewhere you could sit more comfortably, instead of a damn wall. if leo were here, he would have taken your tote bag off your shoulder already, making sure you were not burdened with anything. the absence of his presence now makes you realize just how much he meant to you and how much you miss him.

you pushed yourself off the wall you were leaning against, making your way back to your cabin to sulk, when it happened.

you spotted leo approaching you. his strides were large and purposeful, and you could practically see the determination in his eyes. you could tell he had just emerged from the workshop, his face smeared with soot, but that didn't seem to bother him at all. before you could even react, he had his arms on your shoulders, shaking his head as he gasped for breath, clearly winded from whatever he had been up to. "i've been looking for you everywhere," he said urgently, not giving you a chance to respond.

"okay, look. you know i like you, y/n. you're not like anyone else i've ever met. you're kind, and smart, and funny, and beautiful. and i know that sounds like a lot of flattery, but it's true. i don't think i've ever met anyone who makes me feel the way you do. you make me feel alive, and happy, and.. stuff. and i don't wanna lose that. don't wanna lose you."

he took a deep breath, then continued, "i'm not going to pretend that it was always you, because i've liked other girls before, when i didn't really know what liking someone meant. what i felt for them is not even comparable to what i feel for you right now. it hasn't always been you, but from now on it will."

"i can tell you feel the same way too, even if you try to hide it. you always have a little grin on your face when i come around, and i know you still keep all the things i made for you in your cabin, even though you act like you don't care. but i get it, you're scared. that's okay. i'll prove to you that there's nothing to be afraid of. i'll be devoted and take on more responsibility, because you inspire me to try harder. if you could just give me one chance."

he took a couple steps closer, reaching for your hand, and intertwining his fingers with yours when you didn't pull away. looking deeply into your eyes, he adjusted his grip, his crooked grin indicating that he had rehearsed what he was about to say.

"i guess what i'm trying to say is..." he trailed off, and then pulled out a metal rose from his pocket, just like the one he had given you when he first asked you out. however, this one was special, its intricate patterns reflecting everything that reminded him of you.

"wanna be my girlfriend?" he asked, just like he had all those months ago.

you didn't even hesitate, you just pulled him in by the fabric of his shirt and slotted his lips with yours into a long-awaited, giddy kiss.

a/n

ookaayyy it's been a while since i've read the books so leo may be a slightly ooc here?? or not?? y'all i don't know i'm trying. 😭😭

xx val

[emotionallyunstableduck]

Safe space

Pairings: gojo x reader

Warnings: smidge of crying, gojo's a silly little attention seeker

a/n: I miss him so muchhhh. every week is torturous. My baby needs some comforting ASAP.

the last thing you were expecting to see was your ex-boyfriend Gojo Satoru standing in your doorway with a bruised eye and a busted lip.

"I almost died today" he said, almost not believing his own words, all the while you watched him in horror. "Satoru" he looks like a wet puppy you can't even bring yourself to be harsh "what the fuck happened to you". "I got beat up" he chuckled lowly "part of the job description i suppose". You pull him in seating him on your couch as your hands instinctively went to his face examining it as you gently touched the bruised areas "how did it get this bad" you said sort of wondering out loud "the simplest way to put it is that I got jumped" he tries to lighten the mood "jumped? how do you expect me to believe that satoru? how am i to believe that you of all people could take this much damage just by being jumped?". Why were you angry?

"i did not see them coming, I swear" he says, all giddy at your outburst. As usual, he loves to get a reaction out of you. "Can i stay the night?" his question popped out of nowhere "I- sure. Sure, stay the night. I'll get the guest room ready. " You give in, knowing full well you could never say no to him, not when he's like this. As you try to make past him, he pulls you back onto the couch, clutching onto your tee desperately. "Please stay." Those goddamn eyes. Everytime. It's almost like he knows the kind of effect they have on you.

"I'm only going to get your bed ready satoru" you try to free yourself but to no avail "I just want you right now. just wanna be close" i pulls you closer. All you could do was freeze up in his arms. The familiarity was piercing your heart.

Moments later you felt hot wet tears on you arm which instantly alarmed you. "Satoru" "I'm sorry I'm so sorry" he sobbed into you holding you close by your torso "I thought I was better off alone. I was wrong. So wrong. So so wrong. i'm sorry". His sobs were erratic and you ran your fingers through his hair in order to comfort him. "You were and will be the only best thing in my life. I want you to constitute my every waking second. It's the only way i can breath" his hands made their way up your tee grabbing and squeezing your waist. "Satoru you can't just show up and proclaim shit out of the blue" his only response was the chaste kiss he placed on your tummy before looking up at you with flushed face and those wet lashes and glossy lips. God why does he have to be this enamouring? Your face instantly heated up (the way I'll die from from a nosebleed if I ever see him like so).

"Y/N. Sweets. Please" that's all it took to break your resolve as you hug him back. He took it as a sing to pull you onto his lap. One of his large hands caressing your lower waist while the other cups your cheek as he look at you like you were something so divine for that is how he felt.

He slowly brought your face closer as he connected your lips encompassing your senses and numbing the surroundings. A little while later he pulled back leaving you dazed "god you make me crazy" he went right back in rougher, needier, sloppier. The raw emotion was spinning your head as you melted and gave up trying to decipher what's goin on. His hands all over your bare skin inching towards your chest as you struggled to catch up. Your little moans fuelled him as he pulled you even closer if that was even possible, sliding his tongue into your mouth sucking on yours. The only breaks were to take a sharp breath and to chant out little 'i love yous'.

You struggled to pull yourself together "Satoru your wounds" you say worried "oh these silly things" he snickered healing them with his reverse cursed energy. You just sat there in his lap dumbfounded as to who how you ever even trusted HIM.

"GOJO SATORU" you grabbed his collar "owwww so rough sweets. could have just asked me to remove my shirt" he said with his infamous shiteating grin "get outttt" "no wayyyy" he pulled you into his chest pepperring your neck with little kisses "I just got you back".

masterlist

[yuquinzel]

MIDNIGHT HAZE — rin itoshi.

— notes ⨾ ive been shying away from posting this for too long now. [ sensual/making out ] and heavy on the details hahahs

Rin takes note of the way you're shrinking in your seat beside him, how your arms are protectively tucked in your sides and the subtle but sharp inhales.

from his peripheral vision, he can see that you're gnawing on your bottom lip, gulping hard to swallow your sniffles because he knows you don't like to be seen crying. which is why he's not sure why he's in his living room with you beside him at 2 am watching some sappy sad movie you picked. it's been an hour already since you started your movie marathon and he could've suggested you watch a horror movie instead— but he didn't, and he thinks he regrets it now.

He sighs, pausing the movie and reaching for the box of tissues he's glad he set on the table just in case. he offers it to you, smiling a little to himself when you hesitantly take it, as if you're still not ready to accept you're crying.

“you're such a crybaby” he says. by now a few tears are falling down your cheeks, leaving a damp trail behind in their wake.

“shut up, I'm not. i don't cry often, i swear”, you whimper with the wobble of your lip, and rin laughs. it's the irony of this scenario that swells his heart. you're looking at him with narrow, glassy eyes and warm hues setting on your skin. your words are meant to be firm and legitimate, but you're voice is hushed and low.

“okay, crybaby” he teases, and you pout.

his room glows in a faded shade of honey with the paper lamp you bought him as a housewarming gift. there's nothing but the sound of his steady breathing, and your quivering one. a touch of the scent of lemongrass from the air freshener lingers in the air and rin realises he's been staring at you.

there's still a dampness sticking to your cheeks and rin wants —such a treacherous thing to do— to trace his finger along the trails. feel the smoothness and warmth of your skin. when you realise he's looking at you, embarassment blooms in shades of fuchsia, “stop staring at me like that.”

rin hums. he heard you, doesn't think much about it. and before he realises what he's doing, he's caressing the side of your face. it's a ghost of a touch at first, “staring like what?”

“like you're doing right now” you breath hitches in your throat at the tenderness of rin's caress. momentarily closing your eyes, you lean into his touch. his gaze devours you whole, it makes you want to shrink further into the couch, but at the same time— daring you to wait and see where it takes you.

when all you can hear is the loud thumps of your own heart, watching the steady rise and fall of rin's shoulders as he's gazing through the soul window of your eyes, you're painfully aware that the two of you are alone.

“can't help it,” he mumbles. “god, you're beautiful” he says.

the faint glow of moonlight strips lines of silver across the room, and rin's bathed in luminescence. you can't help but trace the sharp white cut of his collarbone and the flutter of his eyelashes, over the broad expanse of his chest and the slopes of shoulders down to the ridges of hard muscle roping the length of his forearm. you take in his light. he takes in yours.

there are too many details. too much to breathe in yet not enough at the same time. a drug-like midnight haze encompasses the room, the air in the room is electrified and frozen still. rin's fingers travel down from your cheekbones to the corner of your mouth, then brush lightly against your chin.

you can't think. can't say anything. it's like your voice is caught in your own throat. all you feel is the heaviness of the air and the brushes of rin's fingers across your skin. mind blurring with the lines of a countless ‘what ifs’ and moments you've felt the same heaviness in the air, times when the glances you steal from each other lasted longer than they should've.

you swipe your tongue across your bottom lip, and rin's eyes follow the action. his gaze rests there and your falls to his.

there's a momentary pause, as if you're caught in a trance. as if there's hesitation and doubts filling the spaces left behind your words. rin's eyes are still set on your slightly parted lips.

and then it breaks.

you feel it in the form of a shiver running down your spine when the lightning in the room reaches a breaking point, you think rin feels it too. there's a shift in his shoulders when he leans forward at the very second time melts into infinity— a magnetic pull drawing you both in.

rin's other hand supports his weight when he practically crawls on all fours and rolls forward on the leg tucked beneath him.

his lips surround yours— desperate, heated, almost obscene. it's nowhere near the gentle caress from before. teeth nipping and tugging at your bottom lip, long and languid glides of tongue against tongue. he breathes in all of your gasps and mewls, chasing after your breaths to consume you whole like he's waited forever for this very moment. breaths tangle in heated knots of passion, you're holding onto rin's arms, aware that your hands are almost shaking. this is not your first kiss. you've kissed people before. but it's your first kiss with rin and he's made you forget there was anyone ever before him.

you pull away first, breathless and hot. it's addictive— the way rin's lips chase after yours, eyes fluttering open when he can't find them. but he's still close. so, so close. forehead resting on yours and hot breaths fanning against your mouth.

his eyes are brimming with awe and glimmer, but lips swollen and sinful. the contrast is striking— awestruck eyes and moon-bruised lips.

rin falls back into the couch, calming his staggered breaths and throbbing heart.

it takes a long minute before either of you speak again.

“do you regret it?” it's a whisper that's almost raw with desperation and fear. rin's eyes are glued to you again, waiting for an answer.

“i don't. i'd never regret it. do you?” though still breathless, your voice is bold.

“regret?—” he chuckles, as if you asked a dumb question, “—you have no idea, how long I've wanted this. wanted you.” it's a declaration— of all his unconfessed feelings, all the times he'd stopped himself just short of the breaking point. “i feel like i'm about to lose my mind.”

“me too”, is all you can say. it's all you can think.

and if rin senses that, then he smiles, “why don't we try that again?”

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

i hope this is what you wanted m'lady @rinnahhhh

[knapptapp]

Without Me You'd Just Disappear

Yan!Ghost x Reader

Word Count: 1,970

Part 2 of Your Nothing Without Me

Part one Here!

Sometimes he comes in and sits on the corner of the bed. He really doesn't do anything but stare at you. A silent stare with cold dead eyes. Much to your surprise he never makes any move to touch you or close the distance you have created by flattening yourself against the headboard.

You don't dare allow yourself to look away, afraid when you look back he’ll be closer.

When he’s not there you allow yourself to look around the room. It's rather small, not much to look out for. There's one clock on the wall across from you but it's permanently stuck at 2:30. But you swear, out of your peripheral view you can see the hands click by.

And when you close your eyes and try to get some much-needed sleep you can hear it.

Tick Tock TIck Tock Tick Tock

You know time is passing. Because that's how reality works. You can count the seconds passing but only for a short while before the numbers meld together and you can't remember what comes after what.

You think you are going insane.

Every time you look back at the clock it's still stuck. Maybe time isn't passing. You must have slipped and hit your head on your way home. Bled out on the sidewalk before anyone could find you.

And now you are in hell. Or maybe purgatory. God was punishing you for your sins. He must be. What sins, you do not know. You try to rack your brain. Running through every decision you've ever made. But you keep coming up blank. Were your sins so bad your mortal mind can't even comprehend them?

At least it keeps your mind off of numbers.

You start to prefer the days where he sits on the end of your the bed. At least then fear takes over your mind and all you can think about is your heart ramming in your chest.

He didn't have a face under his mask. It was easier to think of it like that. Imagine him as anything but human The fear of the unknown and the imaginary monster your mind created was less tortuous than the knowledge that he was a real person

You know he’s trying to scare you because why else would he be wearing that horrifying mask? A skull. When you first saw it you thought it was made from a real skull, and that your own bones would soon join the college of horror. Now, you feel stupid. The more you start at it the more it becomes slightly less grotesque. There were no cracks or lines where pieces of bones would have been glued together. The material looks rough and dry.

If you ran your fingers over it you bet it would have the texture of chalk, leaving white dusty residue over the pads of your fingers. The only thing human about him, the one piece your mind can't twist, are his eyes. They are entirely human.

“Are you hungry?”

His voice catches you so off guard you think the clock has started talking to you. It seems like the more logical option. It takes a few seconds for your mind to process his words.

Are you hungry

You narrow your eyes at him. You keep your mouth shut, lips clamped tightly together. You are hungry. And your body is ever so self-centered, protesting loudly against your silence. One of his eyes widened with what must be the raise of an eyebrow. He stares at you unblinking, waiting for you to call your own bluff.

“It's been three days and you must be hungry.”

Three.Three.Three.

Three days of full purgatory and at the same time. Only three.

“Thirsty too I bet,” He says. Your mouth is a savanna desert but you don't say that. How long can humans go without water again? Five days? Four days?

“Just say the words and I'll bring you some food and water.”

Three days. Humans can survive without water for three days.

“Please.” You don't ever realize your speaking until the words echo back to you. Cracked and wheezy.

He stands up and leaves and you have a dreadful feeling he isn't coming back.

You close your eyes for only a moment and open them to the sound of clinking metal.. And a searing pain encompasses your wrist. Automatically you yank it towards you realizing too late it's your handcuffed hand. But the pain of metal cutting into skin never comes.

Instead, your hand hits your chest. You shoot up as soon as you realize you're free, cradle your burning wrist in your other hand. The skin is red and blisters, some of the skin has been cut through or rubbed off from your constant pulling.

“Don't think about trying anything. We both know you won't win.” He’s standing right next to you, handcuffs in hand. And he’s right. He's huge at 6'4 and 200-something lbs. Compared to him you're tiny.

The skull mask has been replaced with a plain black balaclava. It's the first time you've seen him without his skull mask and it just further breaks down the small amount of comfort you've created.

“I’ll treat your wrist after you eat.” He gestures to the bedside table beside him. On it is a tray with two plates of food and a glass of water alongside an old army med kit.

He walks over to the farthest wall where his chair had been placed and pulls it back to the bedside table. He places it down, mere inches away from the bed. The old chair creaks as he sits down.

Of course, he was staying. You half expected him to leave. But that's stupid. You are uncuffed with full access to the room and the door. You are being held against your will after all.

As silently as you can you scoot a few inches away. He stares at you, fingers twitching by his side with the urge to yank you back to him. But he doesn't, instead, he reaches over, picks a plate off the tray, and hands it to you.

The smell of food hits you and you rush forward to take it. It’s just some rice and vegetables but your mouth waters at it. Stomach loudly protesting once again.

He reached out to hand you something else. A fork the plastic kind. Doesn't want to risk you trying to stab him with a metal one. In all honesty, you hadn't even thought about it. Stabbing him or a fork. You would eat with your hands. Would probably get the food into you quicker.

Still, you take the fork, not sparing him a glance before you start eating.

You hear the clinking of plates and look up. Instead of the black mask you're expecting to see you are met with pale skin. He has his mask pushed up over his nose.

You could see his features. His nose, lips, and chin The expansion of freckles along the tiny bit of his cheeks you can see. For once he’s not staring at you, but instead at the plate he has balanced in one hand.

It's the same thing you have. With his other hand, he stabs a piece of broccoli with his metal fork and brings it to his lips. He’s eating with you. Like this is a normal fucking situation. Like you too are a couple eating dinner together and not a kidnapper and kidnapper.

You shovel as much food as you can into your mouth. Some weird part of you is glad he's no longer staring at you and seeing you eat like a rabid animal. Got to keep some of your dignity, right?

As much as your body demands and needs food, It is not happy receiving it. The first few bites make your stomach burn and when you swallow it sends you gagging which in turn, gives you a headache.

It doesn't really taste like anything and it's hard to eat with your constantly dry mouth but you keep going. You need food. You're just about to stab a piece of broccoli when a gloved hand takes hold of the plate and pulls it away from you.

You quickly swallow the food in your mouth and choke down a gag threatening to force it all back up again. You're too tired to try and get the plate back so you let him take it, hands falling to your lap, still clutching your plastic fork.

He places it back on the try, where he has already placed his own. It's close enough you could grab it back if you really wanted to But all you want to do right now is sleep. And water You desperately want water Your vision is starting to get blurry around the edges. You close your eyes to try and blink away the blurriness but your eyelids seem too heavy to lift again. There's a vague warmness on your shoulder and then a slight shaking sensation. It's the first time he's ever really touched you and frankly, you can't find it in you to care

Through the haze you can feel yourself being pulled forward, head tilted back with what feels like a hand supporting your skull. Something pulls your lips apart leaving briefly only to be replaced by something else within seconds. Something cold slowly pours down your throat.

A stream from god it must be. It immediately soothes your sore throat and gives your mouth some much-needed wetness. Liquid gold it must be. Something so precious and reviving. It trickles down until it's gone.

He moves you so you are laying back down, the warmth of a blanket covering you. There's the clinking of plates and then the sound of a door opening and closing.

You wake up periodically, always groggy and confused, only to fall back asleep almost immediately. He’s always there when you wake up. Sometimes on his chair, at the edge of the bed, standing ominously in the corner.

When you finally fully wake up, he’s staring down at you. Wide brown eyes unblinking. It startles you awake, and your brain is finally at full working capacity. You completely freeze, unsure of what to do. He squints down at you.

“Are you awake?”

Obviously.

You nod, ever so slightly, and he moves from your field of vision. You can hear shuffling next to you, but you don't turn to look. Instead, you choose to focus completely on the ceiling above you.

He’s pulling your arm, hand gripping just below the dried blood on your wrist. It's almost gentle. Almost.

Time ticks by. Or at least you think. You can't see the clock from your position. You wonder what it says.

There's some wetness on your wrist and it stings. Automatically your arm twitches. You turn to look at him.

He has some sort of wet wipe in his hand and is slowly working the dried blood away in a surprisingly soft manner. The med kit is open next to him, bandages, gauze, and other medical supplies spilling out.

You can tell your crying, just barely through your haze. Your cheeks are starting to get wet

Once he works the blood off he wraps your wrist with gauze and presses the lower half of his face against your inner wrist. You think he’s kissing you but you can't really tell with the mask.

He pulls it up and presses a proper little kiss to the bandaging before rising again to look up at you.

He leans in. You brace yourself for what's about to come, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as you can. His tongue makes contact with the bottom of your jaw. He licks a long strip up your cheek, licking up your tears.

[misfitmagpie]

Well I will gladly take a look at the fully revealed logo! Though I will say that red-archivist pointed out some good stuff in this post. But we can take a deeper look into certain things!

Also p.s.: You will want to read the giant ramble to the end, because I noticed something as I was finishing, and it puts everything in an interesting context.

As mentioned in that post, the combination of the alchemical symbols for salt, mercury, and sulphur do indeed form the tria prima, the three primes or components of life.

⊖ or salt, which represents the earth and the human body. In alchemy it also symbolises the lower consciousness, self-knowledge, and wisdom.

☿ or mercury I already covered last time, representing the mind, the omnipresent spirit of life, and stood as symbol for intellect, imagination, moral judgement, and the higher mental faculties. The alchemical associations of mercury have a strong connection with the Greek/Roman gods Hermes/Mercury, a messenger god who also acted as a chthonic deity, a psychopomp and god of boundaries to be exact. Which might be relevant, might not. (He was also a shepherd god, just adding that detail)

🜍 or sulphur represents the spirit or soul of all materials and living things. In alchemy it is seen as synonymous with consciousness and the expansion of thought. And is seen as the bridge that connects the body with mind, thus it is seen as the key to understanding the inner workings of the soul and consciousness. It’s interesting to me that the sulphur is in the logo 4 times, connected to the circle that encompasses the salt and mercury symbols, and the chevrons (I’ll get to those in a moment). This could have been purely aesthetic, but they could have also simply opted to have the sulphur symbol instead of one of the chevrons and have pretty much the same effect. Instead they chose the alchemical symbol of the soul, also seen as what ties body and mind together, also an element that is strongly associated with heat and fire, to encompass the body and mind, together with heraldic symbols of protection. It’s an interesting choice which makes me wonder about the mindset of the people who founded this organisation. (Maybe they are the types to believe in purifying fire, or purity of the soul as a way to protect oneself against the horrors out there? Who knows.)

The double ^ are chevrons, a heraldic symbol associated with protection, and meant to represent the roof of a house. Even the name is derived from the French word for “rafter”. It is also used in military or police uniforms to indicate rank or length of service. It is interesting to me that the bottom left chevron is an inverted version of the top right. The inverted version being next to the symbol for mercury or the mind, and the regular next to the symbol for salt or the body. Without it being in full colour, I can’t say much about any particular heraldic or symbolic links that might have. At most I can speculate that maybe it’s hinting at how the mind might not be as safe as the body in such a service, of course that can also be my own knowledge of TMA colouring my interpretation.

The O.I.A.R. in the top banner has been revealed! And it’s nice to get confirmation that I guessed correctly on the R! Personally I am not very good with acronyms, but @emdashingaway correctly guessed that it would be this. In my previous post about The Magnus Protocol logo she pointed out that it might stand for Office of Incident Assessment and Response, which now seems very plausible!

Now the background has some interesting repeating symbols too.

🜏

This is the Leviathan Cross, in alchemy another symbol associated with sulphur (in particular black sulphur) and thus also the soul. However it is worth noting that Anton LaVey, founder of the Church of Satan, has adopted the Leviathan Cross as a symbol of his Church in the 1960s. Though I can’t immediately find much more about it and its origins beyond the alchemical association and the very modern Satanic association. (The name Leviathan strikes me as interesting too, but there is too much that can be said about it, especially for a symbol that just occurs in the background.)

🜇

This is the alchemical symbol for aqua regia (derived from the Latin for “royal water” or “regal water”), it is a mixture of is a mixture of nitric acid and hydrochloric acid, optimally in a molar ratio of 1:3. Historically aqua regia was used in alchemy in the process of attempting to create the philosopher’s stone. It is also used to help dissolve gold and platinum within actual chemistry!

♁

Is the symbol for antimony is associated with the animal nature or wild spirit of man and nature, and it was often symbolised by the wolf.

🜘

This is the symbol for bismuth, while it does get mentioned in alchemical texts, the particular use and associations seem to be unclear. All that I can seem to find is that in early days, it was often confused for tin or lead. And that apparently Miners in the age of alchemy also gave bismuth the name tectum argenti, or “silver being made”. (Also it’s chemical symbol is Bi, which is funny given how apparently some have discovered that they are bi thanks to TMA)

I hope this is visible, but one of the symbols in the background also looks an awful lot like one of the alchemical symbols for tin. It looks like a curved X with circles at the ends of the legs. Tin in alchemy is associated with the planet Jupiter, and is sometimes called the ‘breath of life. ’ It represents the idea that the whole is stronger than the sum of its parts.

⚥

From what I can find, this is not strictly speaking an alchemical symbol. Clearly a combination of the male and female gender symbols (each of which is actually derived from the symbols for Mars and Venus respectively, which do get used in alchemy actually), it is generally seen as a hermaphroditic symbol (using the strict broad biological label here, not referring to intersex, I just want to point that out). But given all of the alchemy references so far, I suspect that it might be referencing the rebis (from the Latin res bina, meaning dual or double matter), the ultimate end product of the alchemical great work. It is sometimes described as the divine hermaphrodite—a reconciliation of spirit and matter, a being of both male and female qualities. A lot can be said about the great work in alchemy, and this post is already long enough honestly.

And lastly…

Take this, flip it upside-down, and you have the shape of the logo in which all these symbols are displayed. This is the symbol for the philosophers’ stone. In alchemy it is an unknown substance sought after by alchemists, said to be capable of turning base metals into precious ones (like gold and silver), can be used to derive an elixir of life, and was even thought to bring about spiritual revitalisation. And it symbolises perfection at its finest, enlightenment, and heavenly bliss.

And while researching this, I also noticed something rather interesting. It might end up not being relevant at all, but I discovered that a famous alchemist was named Albertus Magnus who was born some time before 1200 in the Duchy of Bavaria (the flag and coat of arms of which during the Wittelsbach dynasty sports a rather nice diamond pattern, a bit like the pattern you see within the triangle of the logo). He was a saint with a deep interest in a large variety of topics including logic, theology, botany, geography, astronomy, astrology, alchemy, mineralogy, zoology, physiology, phrenology, justice, law, etc. I recommend potentially checking out the wiki page on Albertus Magnus that I shared earlier if you are interested in knowing more, there is a lot of history there. But it’s interesting that he shares a surname with Jonah Magnus, founder of the Magnus Institute.

Conclusion:

Given all that I have managed to dig up about the symbols within the logo, and the indirectly connected links with suspiciously named historical figures, in particular with the context of there being another Bouchard within the Magnus Protocol, I can’t help but be suspicious of whatever this British civil service is actually getting up to behind the scenes. In particular what they think they might be trying to accomplish using the Fear Entities.

Of course at this point it becomes pure speculation. But I am more than happy to hear everyone’s ideas, speculation, and contributions!

[tarotphil]

Bestie I need to know what answers corresponded to Dan or Phil

oh my gosh I’d love to share :)) take the quiz before reading below the cut!!!!! also take this as the performance art it is, I’m not genuinely assuming very specific things about dan and phil’s internal worlds lol

for Dan: love like a dog as in loyal, eager to provide a service, full blown adoration. love like a leaky faucet as in always present even when the sink is “off”. but also as in sporadic, unexpected, unavailable. (this is not a dig at dan, that is the option I would choose)

for Phil: love like an archaeologist as in dedicated to craft of discovery, careful, curious. love like a snowstorm as in all encompassing, obscuring, hungry

for Dan: Catholic guilt yeah, but also thinking on the past in a “I wish I had done it different way”

for Phil: mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. among other things his commitment to nostalgia is a type of grief.

for Dan: peeling fruit as an act of service has big dan energy. he would pass tiktok clementine theory. cannabalism bc i think he’d enjoy himself on yellowjackets Hannibal hunger as love tumblr. angels is his for a lot of reasons. I was thinking about angels as machinery, which meshes with his clean brutalism aesthetic. also angels as fallen from grace, as a subversive queer symbol

for Phil: time loops, we are back to the grief and nostalgia. but I’m also appealing to his brand of creativity here. glitch theory, fantasticalism. ghosts….. we are back to grief, but also his understanding of horror. the ocean is something I associate with phil a lot for some reason. I think it’s the mystery of it

for Dan: he’s a teddy bear, he’s so soft. he has his childhood teddy still. glowing globes for mystery, matches the aesthetic of the moon room. kiss me lollipop…… must I say more

for Phil: I was so captivated by him going “I think that’s what god looks like” in relation to the golf with friends structure. so, for phil, interesting lines and lights that evoke a feeling of reverence <3 icy stag bc I associate him with snow and the fantastical. surreal spotlight sky… I can’t explain it just is

for Dan: A Boat is a poem to me about navigating depression, I think dan would love it. Dan is SO this too shall devastate coded, I don’t think I need to explain.

for Phil: the Kyla Jamieson poem for a few reasons. Love of the natural world, but also I think it carries a sense of creative frustration? The Athena Davis poem because of how gentle it is. meditations on death, meditations on kindness

Dan and Phil: this is the only option on the quiz that gives points to both outcomes…. I want to do with you what spring does with cherry trees. That’s so them

I actually think these kinda speak for themselves

for Dan: he’s such a sensitive soul, which is why he got the heart hurt option. he puts so much of his heart into everything, so this is an acknowledgment of him not being as cerebral as he thinks. for the bones, an ache in my bones is one of the ways I visualize my depression. a bone deep heaviness

for Phil: hurt in your hands because of hands as a symbol for creativity. to me this meant an itch to create. hurt in your lungs I can really only justify by vibes. the hurt of running too hard maybe? Of a body meant to house you doing a bad job of it?

for Dan: mmm realizing I said I associate phil with the ocean which is true, but I associate Dan with whale falls. that’s all I got for that lol. for the microbiome, I love love love the human microbiome, it’s fascinating. I think dan would have a heck of a time with the idea that we’re mostly made up of non self organisms

for Phil: beauty in the small things and beauty in natural system we’re not at all a part of. nod to his love of birds, love you Steve

these are mostly all vibes, except for Phil’s sense of otherworldliness and Dan’s commitment to forward growth

for Dan: the wooden overcoats quote…… sorry not get 2009 on you. The Beatrice letters quote is a little bit “it’s awful work” “not to me, not if it’s you”. as a doctor loves his sickest patient for real

for Phil: the Mabel quote is a little bit about love as a creative I think, and a private creative at that. The love exists even if you destroy the art. the locked tomb quote, they are so dependent. he dyed his shoes green

[tired-reader-writer]

Enabled NY @insert-clever-username-1133 here is the AU lore I have come up with for Liminal: The Unstraying.

Put under the cut because I have a suspicion it will get long.

Geduldh as an eldritch goddess of decay right alongside earth, winter, etc. Geduldh being powerful.

In the AU lore, if Ewigeliebe hadn't gone bananas and constantly tried to reduce everything to white sand out of jealousy, dead things would decay and “return to the earth” and in turn enrich it, enrich her. Underground, caves, and such are frequently associated with death and the afterlife in many of our religions and myths, what if the same applied to Geduldh? Or would've applied, if not for Ewigeliebe. Maybe the soul still ascends to the heights but the body returns to her warm embrace, maybe she's supposed to have both. They're her descendants after all. The all-mother.

Let's take a look at Aztec cosmology for instance.

So there were two earthly entities (Coatlicue and Cipactli) both of whom were characterized as ever hungering Lovecraftian horrors. Coatlicue was said to she “feed on corpses, as the earth consumes all that dies”, a goddess of also war and childbirth I believe. On the other hand, Cipactli represented the earth floating in the primeval waters— no idea how the two were related to one another but a source did mention Coatlicue as having originally been a priestess not a goddess so who knows really— who ate anything the four sun gods made because there was no land and so their creations kept falling into the primordial ocean. They had to kill the thing and make it into the earth (even then Cipactli wasn't really dead, so had to be sated with blood sacrifices so it won't go all murder-happy on the rest of the population). Also Cipactli was described as “always hungry, every joint on its body was adorned with an extra mouth”.

Heck, even outside of Aztec cosmology if we look at say Demeter, she's still fucking terrifying? Like, she can withhold her blessings so that nothing would grow? Her sulking/grief over Persephone nearly killed the world? WINTER EXISTS BECAUSE SHE REFUSES TO LET ANYTHING GROW????

And Persephone herself, even if it's debatable whether she actually was a nature goddess or not (sources vary), is still like. Both a nymph and a fuck-off terrifying queen of the underworld.

I'm not sure if it's canon but while fics invoke Geduldh's name in euphemisms to mean passivity... Sure, canon Geduldh may be like that, but what if she was allowed to be angry? The thought that earth goddesses are supposed to be all demure and passive is kinda laughable.

She's compassionate and wants to embrace her children in death but she can't and that makes her fucking angry. And perhaps Geduldh's all-encompassing acceptance is an offshoot of her father's all-devouring hunger/loneliness. She is her father's daughter, after all, and it would be fun if she was more like him than anybody else.

Darkness and earth could be very plausibly linked too, in my opinion, like so:

“Never fear the darkness, Bran. The strongest trees are rooted in the dark places of the earth. Darkness will be your cloak, your shield, your mother's milk. Darkness will make you strong.”

and

“The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.”

Also earthquakes are terrifying, let me tell ya, and I haven't even experienced a big one.

On the topic of earthquakes— Remember that Mycenaean Greece's Poseidon was more an earth/underworld god with the “earth-shaker” epithet than a sea god and Hades didn't exist in that era and Zeus wasn't the most important god back then— Poseidon the earth-shaker was.

And on the topic of passivity, it actually made me think of Cinderella, and how Cinderella to me is a tale of an abuse victim persevering and escaping her abusive situation. She remains kind and polite bc you know abusers, they don't take well to being talked back to or anything like that, they see any sign of discontent, they bring down their boot on you ever harder. I know this because I'm in an abusive household at the bottom of the totem pole 🥲 People have talked about and analyzed the Cinderella story from this angle far better than I have, and I hope y'all come across such analyses eventually. I'm not too physically well to do an in-depth dive into this one unfortunately.

Geduldh is trapped in an abusive marriage. Her family doesn't cast Ewigeliebe out or kill him because they (it was the God of Darkness in particular I think) want living things. How does Geduldh feel about any of it? Of her body being used like that? Unclear in canon. But what if in the AU, she's angry?

It's not that she doesn't want children or living beings, far from it, it's just that she wants a say in how Yurgenschmidt is governed. She is also associated with compassion if I recall correctly, and noble society... is the opposite of compassionate.

And to add to the fucked up cake we have... The goddess of Chaos. If I remember correctly she desired the God of Darkness but couldn't obtain him but what if. What if she had a fucked up Petyr Baelish thing going on, like he saw Sansa Stark as the daughter he could've had with Catelyn but also desiring Sansa to be his, same dynamic between the Chaos Goddess and Geduldh, the child most like the God of Darkness.

All of that cumulates in Geduldh making a divine messenger in the form of a Devouring child born mysteriously fatherless in the Adalgisa Palace. Well, twins. But Horaia's is a whole nother thing not many will be stoked to learn about since they're an OC and I've already posted about their backstory on tumblr before, so we're skipping over it.

Bonus round: Geduldh's Monster.

Not the backstory, but the Vibes™ Horaia, especially civil war era Horaia, is supposed to give:

The vibe of blood vessels being exposed and pulsating, even on armor and clothes, like they're a part of Horaia's body itself. Not literal blood vessels but like. Looks close enough to be Creepy™. The armor is them and they're the beast the monster the killing machine on the battlefield, it's just another of the roles they play. Horaia already feels like they're acting out roles in hopes of not sticking out as inhuman among noble society (it's naaaaasty) so this time, why not lean into a role they'll fear out of spite? (In the sense of “oh you preach cruelty to me? you want cruelty? FINE I'LL GIVE YOU CRUELTY.”)

Like Hector who spooks his son because he was wearing a war helmet and it symbolizing how war makes monsters out of them all? Somewhat like that but entirely voluntarily.

Horaia, touching the face of her betrothed Ferdinand, the one whose hand in marriage they won in ditter after Magdalena ditched him (not out of romantic love, it's entirely platonic, both Ferdinand and Horaia in this AU being aroace, but a deep desperate sense of friendship, codependency, attachment, and duty), asking him “If I become something unforgivable, would you still love me?” and afterwards accepting Geduldh's (+chaos') blessings into their body to become That™. Corrosive, devouring magic, if you know the Shadow from Fate/Stay Night: Heaven's Feel? Yeah, that. The same effect that thing has on pretty much everything.

A drawing of Horaia as Zent, disheveled and bitter and resigned, to close this post off.

[peterstamatin]

The Beginner’s Guide to The Void

(by caspiancomic)

The Void is my favourite game that I’ve never played.

Released in 2008 under the name Tension, it’s the second major release from Russian studio Ice-Pick Lodge, following 2005′s Pathologic. If you are familiar with this foreign indie art game, you are probably full to bursting already with indie gamer snob cred, but I implore you to help yourself to a bit more. If you’ve gone so far as to play it, you’ve got more snob cred than even I, so congratulations on that. For those of you interested in experiencing it, which will hopefully be all of you, it is available to PC users on Steam, but for the rest of you, I recommend CannibalK9′s spectacular Let’s Play.

Let me repay my debts right away. In this essay, I hope to open your eyes to some of the thematic through lines of The Void, encourage you to experience the game yourself, suggest that in the future you think more fully and deeply about the thematic core of your chosen games, and maybe expose you to a beautiful, little understood, and criminally under appreciated diamond of a video game. But if all I accomplished with this essay was CannibalK9 reading it and learning how much his LP affected my ability to read and appreciate games, media generally, and life, I would still consider it an unqualified success. CannibalK9 speaks beautifully, a trait I admire in others and seek to cultivate in myself, and he has a great deal of knowledge and wisdom regarding this game. Many if not all of my own ideas are indebted to his observations of and reflections on the game. If you know him, or are in contact with him, send him this way. I’d love a chance to thank him for everything he’s done for me.

And before we get down to it properly, one last thing. Ice-Pick Lodge is, at the time of writing, running a Kickstarter to fund their next game, called Knock-Knock. If you’re a fan of either The Void specifically, or atmospheric horror games generally, I’d highly recommend chucking them a few bucks. They’re only looking for a modest $30 000 to fund the game, and even a tiny donation gets you access to the finished game, so please do go check that out.

But enough sentiment for now, eh? Let’s get down to it.

Once, when asked what Neon Genesis Evangelion is about, I cherished the opportunity to glibly respond with “everything.” It’s an answer that only makes sense to those already familiar with the series, and as such, was completely unhelpful to the person who asked me. But I maintain that it’s true. On a textual level, of course, Evangelion is about children who pilot giant robots to fight against alien invaders. But thematically, Evangelion is about religion, death, parent/child relationships (and as an extension, God/creation relationships), sex, puberty, loneliness, identity, free will, science, and basically anything you care to name. The Void is similarly weighted with thematic theses. The primary difference is that even on a strictly textual level, The Void is borderline incomprehensible, particularly on a virgin playthrough.

Still, that’s all just stage setting. I’m here to provide as in-depth an analysis as I can manage for a couple of The Void’s thematic hearts. Like Evangelion, The Void has a lot to say, and it says it quietly and clearly. For the purposes of this essay, I will be examining The Void’s relationship with death and the afterlife, and feminism and patriarchy.

But first, crib notes! The Void is dense with information, and I’m going to be referring to characters and concepts by their names from now on. The section that follows is more comprehensive than a “Beginner’s Guide to The Void” probably should be, but nowhere near an all-encompassing overview of the game. Some of the elements of the game that are not of importance for the discussion to follow- like glyphs, the presence and role of predators, etc- have been excluded from this explanation to keep the focus tight and the length tolerable. Also, where multiple characters give conflicting information on a topic (which happens all the time in this game), I’ve either attempted to include all the information, or focus on whichever version of events ended up being most true.

It features what you might call spoilers, but in order to progress through this discussion it’s important that we all know the characters and terms I’m about to discuss. So if you’re hellbent on a blind playthrough (the best way to play, according to CannibalK9), go play the game and come back when you’re done, the essay will still be here. As for the rest of us, let’s dive on in.

How do you feel? Dizzy? Overwhelmed? Confused? Well, believe me, it only gets worse. This information is presented gradually, obliquely, and resentfully by multiple characters all whispering different lies and half-truths in your ear over the entire game. Detangling this particular Gordian Knot has taken a lot of careful examination and consideration of the game’s glut of information. Even so, I am 100% open to the idea that I have misinterpreted or otherwise misunderstood some element of the game and its mythology. Necessarily, any summary of the events of the game is going to involve some conjecture, a bit of artistic interpretation, and your own interpretation may differ from my own. This is as close as I could come to the “truth” about this game, but the beautiful thing about The Void is that finding your own truth amid the cacophony is one of the most satisfying facets of the story. If the above summary doesn’t mesh with your interpretation of the events of the game, I’d love to hear about it. Otherwise, definition of terms aside, we can now jump into an examination of the thematic undercurrents of the game.

The world of The Void is married to death. The first character you meet, the melancholic Nameless Sister, is called Sister Death by her siblings. Throughout your journey, when you are approaching death, it will be Sister Death who warns you. Towards the end of the game, Sister Death will also make the ultimate sacrifice: she rips out her final heart and surrenders the last of her Colour to you to aid you on your quest. This act of generosity deeply disturbs the Sisters and Brothers, and I don’t mind telling you it deeply disturbed me. The characters of the game were shocked because “giving” in this world is either impossible or taboo, depending on who you ask. I was shocked because I didn’t realize until her sacrifice how much I really cared for Sister Death, and how much she obviously cared for me.

But for all Sister Death does to keep you alive, it is implied from the very beginning that our character is dead already. The Sisters, or at least Sister Death seem to believe you fell into the Void from above, while the Brothers insist you came up from below. Brother Triumphator insists that the Guest is “not alive, he’s quite dead.” In any case, Master Colour makes it perfectly clear (if his word can really be taken on the subject) that the only way to travel between Limits is to die. In the final leg of the game, Master Colour will also tell you that you are the soul of the Void- that you are the reason the Void is dead. Should that be true, you would be the wandering spirit of the well and truly deceased Sleeper, and therefor quite dead indeed. No matter how you cut it, the Guest is almost certainly dead, as the accounts of the various factions of the game only disagree in this respect on where you came from.

In spite of your posthumous nature, the threat of death still looms large over The Void. The sprigs of Colour you harvest to survive will periodically tell you that “there is no death in the Void.” This is, of course, patently untrue. Sister Death warns you early that beneath the Void is the Nightmare, the realm of Absolute Death. Should your hearts empty, you will sink into the Nightmare. In addition to this, Brothers can be killed in combat, and Sisters can be cannibalized with Aya’s Vampire glyph. At the end of the game, you will allow a Sister ascend, and if Colour is to be believed, travelling up to a new Limit requires death in the current one. As if that wasn’t enough, it’s made unambiguously clear that one Sister will ascend to the detriment of her siblings: everybody but the selected Sister, including the player character, must die for her to reach Breakthrough.

When we examine these elements of The Void’s mythology, then, we can reach a conclusion about its thesis regarding not only the afterlife, but life. Let’s sum up. In The Void, reality is described as being like a chain of Limits, one above the other, travelling up infinitely high, but with a definite bottom in the Nightmare. Travelling between Limits is only possible upon death, and the deceased will either travel down, or with a great deal of effort and sacrifice, up. The Brothers, nightmarish creatures themselves who believe yourself to be one of them, and believe you ascended to the Void from the Nightmare, refer to the Void as Paradise. The Sisters, beautiful human women in appearance, aspire either secretly or obviously to reach Breakthrough and ascend. Sister Ole and Sister Yani, the uppermost Sisters in the Void, occupy chambers almost uncannily similar to the Limit above, and Sister Yani even claims she has been there. From these elements we can draw the conclusion that afterlife and life are, essentially, one and the same.

What we perceive as the world of the living is merely our own Limit, and upon death our spirit will either sink into the Limit below, which we will perceive as either a purgatory like the Void or a kind of hell like the Nightmare, or we will travel up, to what we might call Paradise. The Void suggests that there is no after life: only life.

There is, however, an interesting caveat to that unique interpretation of the after life. The chain of Limits has a bottom, the Nightmare, which we could call Hell, but it is infinitely tall. The Brothers (who, it is my belief, ascended to the Void from the Nightmare) refer to the Void as Paradise, in spite of the fact that to our eyes it is miserably bleak. From this we can infer that the Limit above our own would be perceived as a Paradise. In fact, ascending a Sister with the Rite of Devotio is said to create a world “for” or “from” that Sister- a world both created from and perfectly suiting the ascended soul. This is all evidence that the Limit above our own is equivalent to the concept of Heaven. But, the chain of Limits is infinitely tall- meaning that “Paradise” is, essentially, relative.

In a couple of ways this is sort of depressing. First, it implies that something approximating “perfection” can never be achieved. Sister Aya refers to Breakthrough as “creating a life from mere existence”, but no matter how high you manage to ascend, you will never reach a sort of “Absolute Life” to counterbalance the Nightmare’s Absolute Death. The second way this chain of Limits can be interpreted negatively is the implication that there is a Hell, but no Heaven. The Nightmare is a very real and definitive dead end on the chain of Limits, but no such finish line exists at the top of the chain. This means traditional western concepts of Heaven- perfect happiness, tranquility, peace, and togetherness with God- simply do not exist in the world of The Void.

And yet in spite of this, I personally can’t help but interpret this positively. Consider it a facet of my- to borrow a phrase from CannibalK9- “gratingly optimistic” personality. For a start, as an atheist the idea of Heaven isn’t compatible with my belief system. But more than that, the idea of a final resting place in which souls spend the rest of time in perfect harmonious bliss is not in keeping with the tone of The Void. The Void is about struggle- tension, if you like- and it values hard work and dedication above all things. The idea of struggling your entire life to make the world around you a better place, and being rewarded with a higher Limit to work your craft on, is much more appealing to me than a kind of winner’s circle in which spirits congratulate themselves for the rest of eternity.

In his Let’s Play, CannibalK9 makes an inspired comparison between the infinitely tall chain of Limits and creative pursuits: you can always improve, but never perfect, your given craft. Perfection is dull. Everything interesting in life comes from tension, from learning, practicing, struggling, trying, failing, and succeeding. Why should the after life sanitize the most rewarding elements of life? In the cosmogony of The Void, there is no resting on laurels, no pats on the back, and no air of self congratulation. The end of every life represents a new opportunity to improve yourself and the world around you. How often have you looked back at your own life in abject embarrassment, wishing you knew then what you know now? Have you ever looked at something you wrote or drew several years ago and been repulsed by your own inexperience? Are you haunted by the time you were cruel or inconsiderate to someone who trusted you? Did reckless mistakes you made when you were younger have a disproportionately strong effect on the course your life took? In The Void, the end of every life represents an opportunity to approach the whole ordeal again with more and better wisdom, inspiration, trust, intelligence, and kindness. Consider it a New Game Plus mode for life. How many people here would prefer that option to an eternity spent strumming on a harp?

You might think it’s strange that a game in which a host of powerful male characters protect and repress a sorority of helpless little girls could be considered feminist. Is it possible for a game in which women are literally bound, have no power except their beauty, and depend on a male spirit for sustenance, could have a healthy and sympathetic tone for women? What are we to think of a game in which the only female characters are forced to provocatively pose and strip in exchange for the substance they need to live, like a gentleman’s club where the dancers beg for food stamps? Well, it’s my opinion that this game has deep, strong feminist themes in its very DNA.

When feminism and video games enter the same conversation, more often than not attention is drawn to female characters with strength and conviction. Well, no, when feminism and video games mix more often the result is entitled children throwing their toys out of the crib and making fools of themselves. But in the more civilized corners of the internet (they do exist), great attention is payed to Lara Croft, Jade, Samus- the girls who kick ass and take names. And rightly so- a woman who can accomplish any task a man can and doesn’t make a big thing out of it is commendable progress in an industry that is overwhelmingly male-dominated.

However, while these characters and games are great examples of feminist game icons, I think they all fall into the same category: feminist power fantasies. There’s nothing wrong with a good feminist power fantasy, of course, but it’s only a single facet of what could be a much larger jewel. The Void has a more subtle, more literary feminist streak. It’s my belief that The Void can be very satisfyingly read as an allegory for modern feminism- a woman’s eye view of life amidst the patriarchy.

The Void’s gender politics are extremely obvious, and impossible to ignore. The Brothers and the Sisters have gendered names even as factions. They are totally segregated by gender, and the Brothers are the exclusive wielders of all the power there is to be had in the Void. With the exceptions of Echo and Aya, the sisters are prisoners in their chambers, each one both guarded and dominated by their respective Brother. Even those ostensibly “liberated” sisters are only free to move about the Void at the behest of the Brothers. In other words, the women in this game are utterly repressed by the men. This isn’t a coincidence- the singularly male ruling class keeping the female population in their place is a literal manifestation of the concept of the patriarchy, silently handicapping women to benefit a small ruling class exclusively composed of men.

Although women in video games being attractive by traditional standards is nothing new, the way the Sisters’ loveliness contrasts with the monstrousness of the Brothers is significant. Divorced from its here strictly physical manifestation, The Void seems to suggest in this way that all women are beautiful (intelligent, courageous, selfless, inquisitive, creative, etc) while all men are ugly (vain, egocentric, hypocritical, self-righteous, pompous, and so forth). This is an extremely strong stance to take, and contrary to the opinions of many a Youtube comments section feminists do not believe that women are superior to men, and certainly not to the degree seemingly hypothesized by The Void. But, The Void does not strive to create an allegory representative of the real world, remember. The Void represents the patriarchy as viewed through the lens of its female victims.

As long as we keep this in mind, the loveliness of the Sisters and the striking grotesqueness of the Brothers will make more thematic sense. Through this lens, many of the character decisions made by Ice-Pick Lodge will come into focus. For example, the fact that the Brothers consider themselves the infallible champions of the Sisters, or that the Brothers consider the Sisters somehow dangerous or threatening, or even that the Sisters resent rather than fear their Brothers. Using this interpretation we can also make sense of the seemingly problematic concept of the Sisters being unable to free themselves: one of the core tenets of a functioning patriarchy is that it is a system in which women are powerless, subservient, and subordinate. If the Sisters were capable of fighting the Brothers themselves, The Void would cross over into the above mentioned “feminist power fantasy”, and would not be representative of a “pure” patriarchy. In order to represent an airtight allegorical representation of the patriarchy, the female characters are necessarily powerless.

There are two factions still to incorporate into this formula, though: Colour, and the Guest. Colour is certainly a masculine presence, and Colour in The Void is representative of power. The patriarchy is so entrenched in the Void that the very voice of “power” is male, and what’s more, power itself desires to remain exclusively in the hands of men. In the final leg of the game, Colour begins speaking to Golden Eyes constantly and aggressively. Although Colour introduces the player to the concept of Breakthrough, and teaches you that this rite ought to be performed on a Sister, as the game progresses Colour at first suggests, and then demands with increasing annoyance, that Golden Eyes perform the Rite of Devotio on himself. It is never suggested that a Brother could achieve Breakthrough- although they are explicitly referred to as being able to “take”, they consider Nerva to be poisonous- so Colour’s only option for keeping power in male hands is to ascend through his male vessel, the Spirit.

The final piece in this particular puzzle is the Guest. The Guest is by all accounts outwardly male. He has a masculine body when you view his hearts, and he spends much of the game successfully disguising himself as a Brother. However, the Guest lacks many of the qualities The Void associates with masculinity. He doesn’t speak, which contrasts him with the Brothers and their interminable self-righteous tirades. He also, strikingly, lacks genitals. Don’t dismiss this as censorship or authorial restraint either: any one of the Sisters will stand as naked as a newborn should you unlock all her hearts, and all their sex organs are clearly visible. In these ways The Void differentiates between a character who is a pillar of the oppressive patriarchy- the Brothers and Colour- and a character who is simply male.

But why is the Spirit male at all? The suggestion to me seems to be that overthrowing the patriarchy and creating a society in which women are truly considered equal to men is the responsibility of everybody, including men. In the Void, Colour is power. In a power-unbalanced society, evening the odds requires the empowered party to sacrifice power to the powerless party. The relationship between the Guest and the Sisters is collaborative- it represents men willingly and happily draining their own privilege and power and offering it to women. With this interpretation, it makes one male character offering power to women under the disapproving gaze of ten empowered men that much more significant: according to The Void, the power equalization between men and women is going to come slowly, from a dedicated minority of male feminist allies, and is going to be met with outrage and violence from the vast majority of men.

This makes Master Colour’s description of the barriers between Limits as a “glass ceiling” much more meaningful. By willfully surrendering his own power to a woman, against the wishes of the ruling patriarchy, the Spirit allows a Sister to literally break the so-called glass ceiling, and ascend to a position above that of even the Brothers. Now that we accept that it is the responsibility of men and women both to overthrow the patriarchy, we can make more sense of the Spirit’s systematic elimination of the Brothers. The Void’s contention is that for women to truly ascend, feminist men need to not only empower women, but actively destroy the patriarchal elements in their society and themselves. The Guest- the male feminist- literally destroys the patriarchy in his quest to empower a Sister.

Finally, the ultimate goal of The Void is coloured, if you will, with feminist (or at the very least, feminine) themes. The Rite of Devotio will allow one Sister to ascend to the Upper Limit- creating life from mere existence. This is tantamount to a kind of birth. If the Upper Limit is where true “life” occurs, then the Void is not only an afterlife, but prelife. You could call the Void a kind of womb, in which there exists the possibility for many different lives, but only one can be chosen. Even the concept of the Void- vacant, hollow, accepting- is symbolically vaginal. The layout and design of the Void even echoes the appearance of a uterus, fallopian tubes, and ovaries. The Sisters in their chambers could be said to be unfertilized eggs. In this analogy, then, Colour becomes seminal. It’s the substance used to fertilize a Sister so that she can ascend to the Upper Limit to be born. After all, in order to perform Breakthrough, the Spirit must reach a state of Turgor- turgidity, the opposite of flaccidity, being the state of tissue that has become rigid with the absorption of fluid. In other words, for humans, an erection. In this light, try not to think too hard about the fact that the oldest Sister is nineteen.

Well, that represents just about the sum total of my most concrete theories regarding The Void. The Void is a spectacularly nourishing experience, and I had to trim away several potential avenues of thematic exploration to save on space and time. In the future, I may return to The Void, and use it as a jumping board to discuss art, love (platonic, familial, romantic, sexual, it’s all there in some form or another, and every player will have a different reaction to every Sister), religion, truth and lies, how we define ourselves against those around us… essentially any topic you care to mention can be meaningfully addressed using the language of The Void. For today, though, I hope I’ve managed to enrich your understanding of this and all games, the way CannibalK9 nourished my own understanding of this and all games. Once again, I’d like to implore you to check out Ice-Pick Lodge’s Kickstarter, and for any PC users, don’t forget that The Void is available on Steam. If you good folks have something to add about The Void (and anybody who has experienced it must have something to say about it), whether you’re building on or tearing down something I’ve said above or you’d like to pursue your own avenue of thought, please feel free to drop a comment, or even contact me personally. I could discuss this game to the end of time, so it certainly wouldn’t be an imposition.

[elemit]

A Gift, A Curse

A story in which we discover just how damned an ascended vampire can be, and just how far you will go to save the spawn you loved.

Read in full on AO3

dead dove/not beta read

fic warnings: Abuse, Angst, Biting, Blood and Gore, Blood Drinking, Bondage, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Food Restriction, Hate Sex, Horror, Mental Coercion, Mind Control, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sexual Coercion, Torture, Total Power Exchange, Trauma, Vampire Bites

Chapter 24: Return

For the first time in a long time, you wake up in Astarion’s arms. It surprises you that you feel no desire to pull away. He seems to sense your wakefulness and shifts to further encompass you in his embrace.

“Two rescues in a tenday,” he says, kissing your hair. “Once from yourself, and once from an ally. They say things happen in threes - I do wonder what the third shall be.”

You think you can hear a trace of mockery in his voice, but you deafen yourself to it. You want to melt into the warmth of his body. You want to crawl up inside his ribs and make a home for yourself beside his loudly beating heart. You want to become whatever it is that he wants you to be.

Anything as long as you don’t have to be yourself.

Anything as long as you don’t have to be alone.

You trail him like a shadow through the morning, pressing close to him while he writes letters and issues sendings to his puppets on the council. You want to scream when he announces he is leaving to take care of business in the city after luncheon. When he leaves, you search desperately for company amongst the staff, making a nuisance of yourself in the kitchens and the scullery until you are firmly led out of each.

You wander, aimless, panicked, until you find your feet leading you back to the room from the night before.

You stand in the doorway.

You don’t know why you’ve come, but your feet drive you inside. Someone has drawn the curtains against the sun, but the candles are fire are lit. There is a dark brown stain on the floor, and the furniture has been pushed to the sides of the room to make way for seemingly failed cleaning attempts.

You sink into a settee. Your mind feels so crowded with thoughts that you can’t make out a single one clearly from the din. Your fingers pick painfully at your nails as your eyes dart desperately around the room, looking for any kind of distraction, eventually settling on the bookshelves that line the walls. You pick up a book, opening it to the first page. For a while you stare at the opening paragraph, eyes unfocused, brain unable to process anything, but eventually, slowly, the words draw you in.

It’s only when hunger creeps up on you, clawing and red in your belly, that you realise that you’ve almost finished the book. The golden blush of sunlight that was ringing the curtains has faded to a weak silver, and you are shocked to find that you had become so lost in the story that you have read right through dinnertime.

You hurry to your chamber, where - thank the gods - a cup of blood is waiting for you. Astarion has still not returned.

You are not ready to feel anything so strong as pride, but you force yourself to acknowledge the fact that you have at least survived another day.

[seaweedbraens]

hi! i just binged the entirety of ur fic (at least what’s posted) in less than 24 hours. spoilers ahead!! this is just a huge love note to ur fic.

i love how u seamlessly weaved all these plot lines that we know and love together into this new narrative - and made them even more compelling or changed it up in your own way!! it’s all so airtight and i legit couldn’t stop reading. i read this fic from 6 pm to 2 am (ofc with some breaks for food and water but ur fic is SUSTENANCE.) this is the longest fic i’ve read so far (that isn’t a collection of ficlets) and the only one i would be willing to marathon again 🫶

you made me love piper sooooo much. i love your piper and have achieved new heights of my love for her. i liked her in HoO but she really felt so fleshed out and lovable here!!! the type of bitchy that i love. same with jason - i grew so attached to him during this fic! ofc, annabeth always takes the cake for fave ever for me.

and you really just nailed her character. ALL the characters. no notes.

i loved the percabeth relationship progression. their tension is just!!!! jason and piper were sickeningly sweet. the way you write couples makes me ache with wanting, and leo truly represents me in that front 💀

nico di angelo. he’s the guy ever. that’s all i have to say.

HOW DARE YOU RIP MY HEART OUT WITH JASON AND HIS DEATH. i was expecting it but god did it HURT. and it is so so so terrifying… death is terrifying and you encompassed that type of horror so well.

so excited for what’s coming!!! i have so so so much love for it and i can’t believe there’s going to be so much more, even after 538k words. apologies for the lengthy letter but i just wanted to express a fraction of the love i feel for this fic 🫶 i think i’ll post this rant on ao3 as a comment too, haha!

thank you thank you thank you!!!!!!! you are a WARRIOR for finishing it all in 24 hours. like that's insanity, are you okay after all that

i am REALLY enjoying writing piper, so i'm glad you like reading her! i answered this in a previous ask but i think of my own best friends while writing her and so i think a lot of people might find that relateable.

i did my best to write the couples differently. i don't think i fully succeeded (and i apologize to RR for trashing him constantly for that, because it IS hard), but writing leo and his want for someone to love him comes from a very real place that i didnt know existed in me. it's been pretty hard writing each of the characters as their own person with their own plots and arcs but i'm glad to hear you like what i've put together so far!! i definitely have so many things i missed out on writing. maybe one day i'll add it to the fic haha

writing death scenes are SO HARD because i can never gauge if it's heartbreaking enough. as the author, i think i look at it so clinically that i end up feeling NOTHING. VERY happy that your heart was ripped out. i mean this in the best way.

thank you for the message (all the better that it's lengthy!) - i had a super rough day yesterday and i'm glad i woke up to this. thank you thank you thank you i hope you have a lovely day!!!

[bestworstcase]

"Salem is a faunus" like, literally? Not sure if you have any other posts on this angle of the whole Salem deal but I am fascinated by the assertion.

right so i have talked about this before but tumblr search being what it is and not having the wherewithal to trawl through my archive at the moment…

salem might not be a faunus in the, like, specific metaphysical sense—her and ozma’s daughters were human—but culturally, socially, in terms of how she’s perceived. she’s human-shaped but not human. she’s a human with non-human physical characteristics. if you put her in front of a complete stranger who knew nothing about her history or the conspiracy dedicated to fighting her, what would they think? how would they mentally categorize her? probably as a grimm faunus.

in ye olden times—during the lost fable days when faunus were being enslaved, locked in cages, and hunted like animals—grimm were thought to be the corrupted spirits of animals or else animals possessed by demons. the WOR episode on faunus symbolically positions the faunus as beings halfway between humans and grimm (& confirms that the cultural belief is that the existential conflict between humans and grimm does not encompass faunus, that faunus are seen as bystanders to this struggle at best)—equally at war with humans as with grimm. faunus, culturally, is a grimm-adjacent category. and if you look at what the WOR grimm episode says about how grimm have traditionally been understood, as corrupted animals, demonic animals, then, well, you can see how intuitively that maps onto faunus being grimm-adjacent. if a grimm is a corrupted animal, and a faunus is almost but not quite human because they have animal traits…

salem commanded dark powers in the wilds, among beasts and monsters. creatures known as faunus bore claws and fangs and were locked away in cages—like beasts. “beasts and monsters” meant “faunus and grimm.”

now consider the two faunus origin myths. in one, faunus are humans who chose to submerge themselves in magical waters in order to transform themselves, to the horror and outrage of those humans who did not; this myth specifically mentions the grimm three times for no other purpose than to say “put them out of your mind, they aren’t a problem in this story” and ends with the remark that humans hate faunus because faunus are a reminder of what humans “are not and can never be.” in the other, faunus are created when a stern god transforms two groups of warring animals and humans in order to teach them a lesson, and the newly-created faunus were then promptly blamed for leading the grimm to attack a human settlement and exiled forever from human society.

there was a time in history, long forgotten now, when salem had such a profound influence on faunus culture that echoes of it are still visible even today.

& then there’s the way the grimm are leveraged symbolically in the context of blake’s personal struggle with her faunus identity; she gazes miserably up at the statue of huntsmen in beacon’s courtyard, and then looks down, finding herself not in the heroes but in the grimm beneath their feet, and that’s what she’s feeling when she takes off the bow. that’s the pain being reclaimed when the white fang “dons the faces of monsters,” this is the cultural narrative being spoken to, that faunus are grimm-adjacent.

(i imagine this is part of why sienna was SO PISSED about the fall of beacon. taking that cultural narrative and refashioning it into a weapon, an indictment of those who believe in it, is one thing. actually bringing grimm into a population center and releasing them on crowds of defenseless civilians reifies the narrative, justifies those who believe in it.)

similarly ozma seems to believe that salem is personally responsible for orchestrating every grimm attack in history—just as the faunus in the myth are blamed for leading the grimm to attack humans. and the consequence of this and his fanatical determination to destroy her is that the grimm are largely the only community she has, so the perception becomes self-reinforcing. and then you have the reflection of salem’s isolation and exile in the kingdom of menagerie, an inhospitable island given to the faunus with the implicit intention of getting rid of them.

people tunnel-visioned on the hound having silver eyes but i think it’s equally important that he was a faunus. faunus are culturally grimm-adjacent, salem is for all intents and purpose a grimm faunus, salem either made a faunus into a grimm or made a grimm into a faunus. there’s some really interesting groundwork being laid down here.

[tony-veis]

15 questions for 15 mutuals

Thank you for marking me, I enjoyed reading all the answers to this list so much!   @kestrelteens​ @kayleigh-83​

Are you named after anyone?  My parents only called me that because it wasn't a popular name in the 90s

When was the last time you cried?  In February, when my friend left. In fact, I cry very rarely because I have problems with experiencing deep emotions. When I really cried, it was probably February\March of last year. For obvious reasons.

Do you have kids?  No, but I'd like to one day. I feel too young to have children yet

Do you use sarcasm a lot?  Not very. Usually it annoys me if I think that the interlocutor is saying something stupid and then I use sarcasm. Otherwise, I rather prefer to talk directly about my irritability.

What’s the first thing you notice about other people? Clothing and accessories. One day when I was approaching the place of the date, I thought, "Oh my God, I hope it's not him in that ugly hat"

Eye colour?  I just found out it's called Hazel. Most of my friends think that I have brown eyes, but in fact it's just dark green. I myself thought for a long time that I had brown eyes, until I found out that this was impossible for genetic reasons in biology class. Lol.

Scary movies or happy endings?  In fact, I really don't like horror movies, as I am extremely nervous, but paradoxically I like Stephen King horror books, I also like to watch reviews of scary games, and at one time I also read a lot of SCP. And some of my favorites are La Favorite and Spencer. But I also like TV series, for example, Sexual Education, The Handmaid's Tale, Euphoria And a lot of animated series

Any special talents?  I can push my shoulder out of the joint and move my eye asymmetrically (but this is very dangerous because it occurs due to excessive blood pressure in the eyes and head). Also, I'm never late even if I'm late. For some reason, it always happens that I come before everyone else.

Where were you born?  Russia, in a small provincial town of Samara. (A million and a half is a small town?) This city used to be a pirate bay, then a fortress, then a merchant hub on the Silk Road, and therefore the city center is located near the Volga River and a beautiful long beach is a 5-minute walk away. Sometimes I think it looks like Miami, but with beautiful wooden architecture of the XIX century

What are your hobbies?  My hobby is art and it encompasses too many areas ranging from crafts and Craft and Art, and ending with the study of the latest fields of art. My professional activity is contemporary art, but I also draw, knit, embroider, sculpt, 3D model and much more. Now I'm finishing sewing another blanket, until recently I completely made my room, I redid some furniture, I really like to change spaces. I also like baking and now I have my own garden and I love messing with plants so much! But I don't perceive it as gardening, for me it's performative practices. And of course I really love sims and now I play sims 4 too much. A very important addition, I completely forgot to write about the TAROT. I started studying tarot since Halloween, but in general I have always been engaged in magical practices

Do you have any pets?  No, I like to communicate with animals and I've always wanted to get a cat, but now I understand that this is a very big responsibility

How tall are you?  182 cm, quite tall and thin

Fave subject in school?  I never liked school, but I liked Social Studies, Biology, World Culture and Art. At the university it was Art History, Psychology and Painting

Dream job?  Don't work. I burned out a lot after working at the museum and could not start a new job for 5 months. I would just like to please you with Sims content and get enough money for a living from it. Now I work remotely and I am most comfortable that now I can wake up, take a laptop and, lying in bed, perform work tasks without communicating with people. Sometimes I feel so bad that it turned out to be the optimal format for me, so as not to overexert myself. I would like to tag all the English-speaking bloggers I subscribe to, so feel free to tag me. @lowedeus @greatcheesecakepersona @jellymeduza @alexbgd @lamare-sims 

[roachliquid]

I have to snort when people are like "Noooo, you can't put a happy or even bittersweet ending in a Mythos work and still call it 'Lovecraftian', that's defeating the whole point!"

Like. Art is a conversation, ya dweebs. Yes, the running thesis in much of Lovecraft's work is that doom is inevitable and all-encompassing - but there's a lot of room to play with it that hardline traditionalists tend to overlook in their insistence on categorical purity. And one of the ways you can play with it is to disagree outright with his conclusions.

I mean, look. Lovecraft spent most of his life as a privileged dickhead whose trauma over the fate of his parents warred constantly with his view of himself as someone who should be exempt from such horrors. The idea of bad things, even cataclysmically bad, being something that both happened to people on a regular basis and could be lived with didn't come home to roost for him until the Depression. The dude was naive as hell, is what I'm saying - so of course sometimes people are going to look at his Earth-Shattering Tragedies and go "Oh, someone could actually survive that" - without fundamentally disagreeing with the concept that the world is full of terrifying unstoppable forces with the power to make your life worse.

In fact, one of the best Lovecraftian games I've ever seen both plays the doom completely straight, and refuses to submit to Lovecraft's philosophy about it. Sucker for Love: First Date is a fantastically silly dating sim about trying to smooch an Elder God, and while it is partly (and successfully) a horror game about dying because you woke up Femthulhu, it never downplays the significance of the protagonist's comparatively lighthearted quest to smooch that same Elder God. Essentially, the game says, the end might be horrible and inevitable, but you can still have a good time in the interim - and at the end, when everything is falling to pieces, the fact that you spent that time on something happy makes the end sting that much less.

It is a fantastic diversion from Lovecraft's attitude, while still taking his themes head-on. And that, to me, is more valuable than simply parroting everything he put into his work. Yes, there are writers and game developers who don't do this, but I consider that a skill issue rather than a problem of philosophical disagreement - they simply aren't making the effort to bridge the gap between the story they want to tell and the material that they're working with.

There are plenty of ways you can emphasize Lovecraft's themes without directly agreeing with his conclusions. You can rob protagonists of the ability to defend themselves via might - maybe the popular American pastime of "shoot the thing until dead" no longer works, or maybe efforts to call in the military fall on deaf ears. You can emphasize how terrible the cataclysm is by showing how much is still lost even when characters manage to cinch some kind of victory. Hell, you could even depict the inevitability of suffering by showing that after the characters are done dealing with the cosmic threats, the banal evils of everyday life mean the fight will never really be over.

And you can choose not to focus on that, too. You can decide you'd rather show the importance of small victories, managing to survive as everything is falling apart around you. You can send a message that even if you are doomed, survival is still worth fighting for. You can choose, as the creators of a ridiculous dating sim chose, to emphasize that the omnipresence of the end does not negate the possibility of present happiness.

Insisting that Lovecraftian works have to agree 1:1 with his messages effectively gatekeeps the genre from anyone who isn't willing to uncritically parrot his philosophy. And that's incredibly counterproductive to the purpose of making art, which is inherently transformative and communicative.

[marias-wonderland]

Post-SoTL letters

So I've been thinking of writing a post SoTL Clannibal fic in which they sent letters to each other. But because my energy levels reach negative amounts, I never did it. Yesterday i found out about the theory of Solipsism and it seems our good doctor wanted to share it with Clarice (please share with me if you liked it and if you would like to read more.)

Dear Clarice

Please tell me Clarice, are you aware of the theory of Solipsism? If not, it is the idea that only one’s mind is sure to exist and that everything outside of it, external world and other minds, cannot be known and might not exist outside the mind.  While it is not widely accepted by the vox populi, I included, I would be certain that you not only exist but also enhance my own world. You are the last virtue that came out of Pandora’s Box, Hope, and I could not be gladder that you escaped of your prison. A militant spirit encompassed with the credulity of a sheep truly makes a memorable existence. But even if the theory is true and you never truly existed, you are my most perfect idea I’ve ever been able to grasp, an entity that I would never dare to abandon. I will keep carrying you within the rooms of my own mind for the rest of my existence.

Prattling sure makes time fly, please share with me your opinion about it and perhaps deign to show me a piece of your own mind palace.

Ps: I promise I will not snoop around the nearby doors but, I highly suggest you lock the ones you do not wish me to find for the time being.

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Dear Dr. Lecter

I would lie if i say i wasn't touched by your remarks about me. As for the theory, my answer is that i didn't know about it, thank you for enlightening me. I find it rather absurd that existence only exists within one's mind, how can the mind of a clueless man produce the reality in which we all more or less live in? I would argue that perception of said reality can be interpreted differently depending on the individual and on what kind of path they've chosen to follow but, this is beyond my understanding.

You said that i represent the freed hope, the embodiment of every virtue that is worthy of being kept alive in this sorrowful world, your most perfect creation. And yet, how did you choose to treat this embodiment? You lied to me and used me for gaining your freedom. You manipulated me and due to that, 2 officers lost their lives. If the theory is correct, why did you choose to center yourself around despair and chaos? Why does your mind only produce horror and sorrow? The theory elevates us one step before God Himself and yet, you chose to almost show me your cruelest face.

Our meeting made me stronger, wiser, better and more confident than before so I have to answer honestly. I would never allow of myself to remain locked within no one's mind, Doctor, no matter if i were a real person or not. Be aware of that.

Ps. It's in your nature to try and unlock the locks of one's mind. You are welcome to remain in the first rooms but i will also make sure the rest of the locks are double locked

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Dear Clarice

Unbeknownst to you, the secrets of your inner mechanisms have been slowly revealing themselves to me. But I suggest we rash for no revelation yet, shall we? The Cartesian egocentric view of the mind and of the physical existence ,Clarice, does not depend on your average Joe for producing the world we are living in. Solipsism rests upon that all experiences are necessarily private to the individual. Because of its “occult” or ephemeral nature, can never literally be shared. No two people can ever be said to have the same experience. ( Just like our first meeting one might say. We certainly carry different memories of the same events) You know I would never lie to you (But unfortunately in that case, someone else was the first who betrayed my trust). When I say you are the embodiment of every little good virtue in this man made world I truly mean it, we both spare ourselves the use of vacant statements. You keep asking me these questions Clarice and yet, why do I feel they are directed at someone else? (perhaps someone who enjoys the destruction of the faith of His believers?). I would suggest you start unlocking those locks not for me, but for yourself. Please tell me, what does it lay behind those well kept locked doors, all dusted and hidden? Is it perhaps pent-up anger? at me for betraying your trust which was build in a manner of days or is it directed at your daddy for abandoning you, because he was so caught up with his own image of himself that a couple of hoodlums had to remind him of his place in the food chain?

I said to you back then the world is more interesting with you in it, and I still hold that belief. Your place is not being an usurper’s ownership but you belong out there, wherever you wish to be. If there is something I enjoy, it is an intellectual conversation with you. Please, don't hold back the acute criticism you so much wish to hurl at me. Ps: I found the use of the word ‘almost’ amusing. Even at your most confused state, you never dare question my appreciation for you.

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Dear Dr. Lecter

I think it is time to put aside philosophy for a moment because that is not what you truly want to discuss with me. These meta-theoretical ideas were never useful to me, I had to prove myself worthy in different aspects.

You said that I am in a ‘confused state’ and yet, it is you who can not seem to decide in which end of the spectrum you fall in. You keep talking about this indescribable adulation towards me and yet, you refuse to confess you betrayed my trust. A young woman was in the hands of a serial killer you very much knew of and yet, you toyed with me and with the entire FBI for your own delectation. Υou have decried every person that has ever wronged me in your eyes or does not treat me with the respect you think i deserve and yet, you are no different than them. They view me as a fragile defective girl, not potent enough for the world of men but unfortunately to them, i proved to be more adaptable to change.  You, on the other hand, also dehumanize me. They did it for the sake of their vested interest, you did it for completing your self made image of an idealised woman.

If there is anger within me, it is for the ones who wish to deceive and harm the innocent. For those i hold no remorse or sympathy. I loved my father and no one can make me question that. And since you patronised me to do not hold back my critism, i find your speculations about me poorly executed, especially for someone who claims he has started understanding my inner world.

Let me unlock a door for you. I wish to find a person who views me as I truly am. No country girl or wounded entity. Just my name would be enough. Just Clarice. Do whatever you want with this piece of information. I have never shied away from myself and i will not start now. Ps: Our conversations can truly be meaningful when you don’t wish to stir up past emotions and regrets