#not verbatim i do not remember the exact wording

[bumblebeem]

But he didn’t recognise Elita-1 when he met her....? “Who is that bot, are they crazy?” or something similar is what he says about her when they meet on the train. I don’t have the movie itself or a script to hand so I'm going off of my memory, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t say anything to suggest they’ve met before.

This is what he says (again, according to my memory, so apologies for any mistakes) about the new shift manager: "We have limited access to the waste management area but the new shift manager there does NOT like distractions. No... No, they prefer we stay here, on the task at hand."

If he had left his work area recently enough to have "met" Elita (even from afar/without speaking to her), he surely should have recognised her on the train, right...? Elita also does not recognise B-127. I'm positive she would have remembered him if they had met and spoken before that point, considering how overly talkative he is - and the way she dismisses him when he introduces himself. If she'd been through that with him before, she wouldn't have been shy about letting him (and the audience!) know, I'm sure.

Whether the new shift manager is actually Elita-1 or not is unknown because she's reassigned to "waste management" (i.e. managing waste). It doesn't necessarily mean she is a manager there, and we also see her alongside other workers loading crates. Is that manager behaviour...? Besides, it makes sense any shift manager in that place would "not like distractions" because one slip-up could bring the Quintessons down on them. The workers there are unknowingly loading those trains with energon (not toxic waste). Even if the shift manager isn't privy to that information, they're probably under pressure from somewhere above to run a tight ship because it would be disastrous if the wrong crates were loaded onto those trains.

As for B-127, I think it's more likely he has overheard somebody else outside of his work area refer to a new shift manager (and the fact they don't like distractions/prefer bots to stay on the task at hand). That could have been as recently as Elita's demotion, or days or weeks ago. For all we know, the shift management position could have a high turnover rate on account of what is actually going on down there. The less bots who know about the energon/toxic waste switch-up, the better for Sentinel, surely.

Anyway, we know Bee didn't speak to anybody because he is pretty clear about his situation: "I just haven't had a lot of company since they put me down here in sublevel 50...", and he states, "sometime between a long time and forever" when Orion asks him how long he has been down there.

My guess is the most company he gets is leaving his designated work station (taking advantage of the "limited access" he has to the waste management area beyond his post), hoping he'll be able to speak to somebody else, only to be immediately redirected.

His emphasis on the "does NOT like distractions" is what is most interesting to me though. Because best case scenario, he's heard those exact words from a couple of bots he's eavesdropped on (desperate for company, but not actually able to participate in the conversation...) and is just regurgitating them verbatim for D-16 and Orion to make it sound like he's clued-in and knowledgeable, or worst case scenario he's had a bad experience at the hands of the "new" shift manager (one who predates Elita's arrival, whether as a worker or a replacement manager depending on what you believe), so he knows through personal experience just how much they do not like distractions, and this is his subtle, light-hearted way of communicating that...

Or it could just be a writing inconsistency, I guess! Maybe a scene got cut, and Bee had met Elita-1 down in the waste management area in a prior draft but they removed the necessary scene and kept that line about the "new shift manager" in anyway.

Otherwise, “new shift manager” is maybe just meant to tell us bots down there don’t last very long and the last one had to be replaced for some reason... Knowing more than they should, perhaps...?

Transformers One (mostly Bumblebee) things I can't stop thinking about.

During the film's opening when Orion Pax falls into a room and onto a table full of energon, he bundles a load of it into his arms and is eating as much as he can until he drops it all and has to keep fleeing.

He's starving. The miners are being underfed as well as overworked.

Additionally, we see Bumblebee has three rations on his person when he offers one up to wake Alpha Trion. This might suggest he's keeping these rations for when he'll need them rather than being able to comfortably feed himself. For the miners it's a scarce resource they have to be careful with, and yet the transformers on the higher levels are enjoying it in abundance.

Bumblebee urging D-16 to "stay down" during Sentinel's attack.

This is an interesting line - if it was a nothing line meant to reflect compassion/empathy, he could have urged Sentinel to stop, or implored the 'bots next to him to take notice and do something. There were other ways to demonstrate "Bumblebee is kind and doesn't want his friend to get hurt."

But he doesn't look to authority or anyone else around him for help on D-16's behalf.

He instead instructs D-16 on how to behave to get the abuse to stop.

Which suggests to me this is learned behaviour, and he's giving advice based on previous experience. He's learned that taking the punishment and letting it happen gets the perpetrator to eventually stop, but resisting and fighting against them keeps it going.

That he was reassigned continually right down into sub-level 50 would tell me he's had more than his fair share of annoying a bigger 'bot enough to get himself knocked around once or twice. And very likely, nobody witnessing the abuse helped him, and/or the authority in the room was the one perpetrating the abuse anyway, so of course they weren't going to step in and help.

The only way out for him has always been to just take it :( So he assumes this will be the quickest/least painful way out for D-16, too.

Bumblebee is as much of a nerd as Orion is.

He knows about the High Guard (and is very excited to recite what he knows about them), he recognises the Primes as soon as they come across them in the cave, he watches the broadcast Orion locates inside Steve's head with interest... It's very subtly done, but I think this is the main shared trait between Orion and Bee. I wish we had seen more of Bumblebee trying to talk to Orion about this shared interest, but I get the main relationship they wanted to portray was that between Orion and D-16 (and really enjoyed that regardless!)

Bumblebee knows how to leave sub-level 50, yet he still goes back to his post, and doesn't appear to be using this escape-time to socialise with anyone else on the other floors he can access since he is so very clearly starved of social contact.

I'm not crying, okay, I'm just imagining this poor little guy sitting out of view watching the other cogless 'bots come and go, knowing he could get into more trouble and be even more isolated if he announces his presence and gets himself caught.

Also his "limited access" to the waste management area, and that thing he says about the main one in charge there preferring that he stays on task and really not liking any distractions... Ugh.

Bumblebee is purposely isolated in that room and there's apparently enough of a deterrent to keep him in it that he is forced to make imaginary friends out of trash to talk to instead.

I'm gonna go insane with grief and rage.

[fedine]

So, I'm working on the petticoats, right, and these things will need to be hemmed, yeah, so I need to put on my proper support garments to do so, see, and so this morning I start to put on my stays mock up, because it is the only set of stays I have that fit properly now, of course, but as I built them to test the fit of the pattern (no alterations needed), I built them from the cheapest Walmart muslin I could get my hands on, which I knew would wear out rather quickly, because plain weaves are weak, and this was a very light fabric, okay, but then when I laced my garment up this morning, spiral style, I heard a rip, and I knew that it was over, and that I went from having two pairs of stays, to zero pairs of stays, seeing as the short stays I made over the course of months on the carpeted floor all spring, including embroidery, do not fit properly, I needed this set to work for me to get the petticoats ready, but since I need to make a whole new unavoidable set of sturdy stays now, I have to make the new pair before I can do anything with the hems, and I will certainly make sure that this set does not have weak lacing structure, by way of a coutil interlining and a special lacing bone, but there is one silver lining that I can now harvest the bones from the old pair, and I only need to buy the special lacing bones online, and it will likely take me a week to make the stays, and hopefully the special lacing bone will arrive quickly, because I will not be embellishing this pair with anything at all, since I learned my lesson with spending days embellishing the last stupid pair that did not fit, so I expect to be done with everything by September 1st, if nothing else in my life goes as horribly wrong as this, if the special lacing bones arrive when I need them to

[moodymisty]

Would you consider to write of Morty x Pregnant reader?? It's ok if ignore this btw you're stories are wonderful💕

Author’s Note: beep boop here's a snippet

Relationships: Mortarion/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Tokophobia/pregnancy

It’s been months, and yet the news still feels unreal. If he thinks about it for too long, he almost feels like he’s split between a reality and an unreality; You belonging to the ladder.

'I, I’m pregnant, Mortarion.'

He had refused to believe at first. The Primarchs were sterile, surely. They were abominations created in a lab. Beings that spit in the face of humanity yet supposedly beyond them.

But sure enough, you gave him- verbatim - a speech received from the medicae; Pregnant, was once again the conclusion.

He continued to deny it at first, in his own head, and continued to act like nothing had changed.

But then your belly started to grow, and something in him changed. He remembers the exact moment, when your turned to speak to someone and the swell of your belly was recognizable, and Mortarion could no longer deny his reality. The reality.

You were pregnant. You were going to have a child, and he was their father.

Mortarion had left many things unfinished in his life- but he wanted to make good on this one. To be the father he had been denied.

“Go back and rest.”

Mortarion is blunt as you watch him write moments after walking in. You’ve been sick, sicker than most pregnant women, and he can only imagine the toll his accursed genes are doing to your body.

More than what he already does to you; the Barbaus made poisons that stir in him, pouring from his lungs in ragged breaths. Sometimes he wonders how you can tolerate him, let him touch you do this to you- and seem not the least bit disgusted by him.

“I love you, but I will go crazy if I’m locked up in there anymore.”

The look he gives you is less than approving.

"Can I at least have a few minutes here before I go back?" A refusal is on his lips, but he swallows it. You seem to take that as welcome enough and make yourself at home.

As much as he did want to send you back, it's been awhile since he's seen you up and about. Or in general. He's busy, and you're always in the quarters he rarely uses.

You walk past him to look out a large viewport, at the nothingness beyond it. Mortarion notices that your belly has gotten even larger. Resting, and you’ve taken to drawing in that time.

He wonders how the other primarchs will react when they find out. They don't even know you exist, let alone that you're about to have his child. In an odd, prideful, selfish way, he's excited to see their reactions; That he has something they don't.

"They starting moving, by the way." Mortarion looks at you, eyebrows raised. "A few nights ago they started wiggling. You were with your captains so I couldn't tell you right away."

Stepping closer you look at him, rubbing what he presumes is sleep from your eye.

"Do you want to feel?"

Of course he does. He would want nothing more, but he can't find the tongue to say those words. Not without tripping over himself. Instead he rises from his chair and kneels in front of you, reaching a hand out. Once it rests on your belly you put one over his own.

It takes a moment, before he feels them shifting. Something in him almost becomes, frightened. In the same way when he saw how big your belly was getting, this is another moment where he realizes that he isn't in an unreality- this is it.

"Come sit with me."

Mortarion moves to sit back at his desk and bring you to rest on his lap, where you lean comfortably into his chest.

You hum with the satisfaction of winning, and he rests a hand on your belly, before continuing his work.

[nickfowlerrr]

call it what you want to

pairing: neighbor!bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. pet names. dirty thoughts. uhhhh that's all? also not sure what trope this is lol but when i nail it down, i'll add it. i'm thinking it's just friends to lovers? frenemies to lovers maybe? idk lol.

words: 3.1k

notes: this was my attempt at writing a stand alone, less than 1k drabble. it did not go well. there will definitely be more lmao. eventually. <3 hope you guys like this, and thank you in advance for reading. as always, feeback and reblogs are more than welcome and are so appreciated! let me know your thoughts :)

“Fuck!”

Your voice echoed in the hallway of the apartment complex as you stared down at your take out now spilled all over the floor.

“Stupid goddamn key,” you cursed again, the key to your apartment caught in the metal loop of your lanyard. Truthfully, you knew you had too many keychains and this happened every time you had to jingle your keys from your bag. You should’ve set the food down, but you were too impatient to get inside.

While you struggled with your keys, the door to the apartment down the hall opened, the sound of it catching your attention.

You looked over and then quickly away as you saw him. As if things couldn’t get any more embarrassing, of course he had to be a witness to the mess that was you for the second time this week.

“Locked out again?” the tall, built brunette asked as he walked down the hall, his brilliant blue eyes set on you.

“No,” you grumbled, avoiding his gaze as you tried to free your key from the lock of rings it had become stuck in.

He stopped right next to you and you took a deep breath as you felt him watching you intently, analyzing the predicament you'd found yourself in. His eyes were on you for too long, making you more flustered than you already were, before they fell to the food laying on the ground by your feet.

He raised a brow before looking back up at you, leaning against the wall beside him, crossing his arms as he examined you further but continuing to say absolutely nothing.

“Is there a reason you’re staring, Mr. Barnes?” you huffed, annoyed.

“Mr. Barnes?” he questioned. “I’m not 80.”

“Could've fooled me," you mumbled under your breath with a roll of your eyes, "damn it," you whined, growing more and more frustrated at your lack of success in getting your key unstuck. You began shaking the set of keys from the base of the lanyard, hoping to get it free that way.

He grabbed the keys from your hand with a scoff and you watched as he easily pulled the key out of the rings it was caught in before dangling them in front of you.

You narrowed your eyes as you scowled at him and his obnoxiously smug face. Reaching to snatch the keys from him, he pulled them back right before you had them in your grasp. You could’ve growled with how irritated you were.

“I’m not in the mood, James. Give me my keys,” you demanded.

“James?” he repeated, sounding even more offended than before. "Christ, doll, let's go back to Barnes."

"I told you to stop calling me pet names not more than.. two days ago, did I not?" You shot him another sharp look as he smirked in response.

"Well, I believe your exact words were, 'Bucky, if you call me sweetheart one more time tonight, I'm going to file an official complaint against you with management for harassment'," he quoted you verbatim.

Your mouth parted as you furrowed your brows, you couldn't help how obviously taken aback you were at his apparent perfect memory and he smiled at the impressed look on your face.

"Huh, so you remember exactly what I said, and yet," you tittered humorlessly, "you're still doing it."

"You said nothing about being called 'doll' and your warning was clearly for that night only, so," he shrugged, blue eyes still on you while he simpered.

"Were you not on your way somewhere?"

"I was," he nodded before he pushed away from the wall, beginning to walk past you as you watched him, turning to follow his movements, dumbfounded at his dismissal. “I am,” he finished smoothly as he kept walking.

"The hell you are," you called after him, following him down the hall. "Give me my keys."

"Okay," he said, continuing to the stairwell. You scoffed in disbelief as you followed him through the doors and down the steps.

"Now," you specified as if he didn't know what you meant in the first place.

He seemed to fly down the stairs as he ignored you and you huffed in annoyance, resigning yourself to following him all the way down. When you reached the first floor, he was waiting for you with a boyish grin.

You shot daggers at him as you scowled, putting your hand out, palm up for him to drop your keys into. He looked at your hand quizzically, an eyebrow quirked before he took your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing them across your skin.

Your heart skipped a beat and you embarrassingly felt your breath catch in your throat the moment his eyes looked up to meet yours, the bright blues twinkling as his soft lips lingered on your hand.

It wasn't even a second before you pulled your hand away like he'd burned you.

You swallowed hard, standing straighter as you eyed him.

"Well, definitely gonna be making that harassment complaint now," you said, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at his actions and the way his bright, easy smile had your heart fluttering.

"I don't think you'll have to go through the trouble. I'm thinking about moving out next month," he told you.

You felt your face drop slightly as you blinked at the news, a wave of disappointment and sadness running over you. "Oh," was all you breathed.

You both stood there for a moment, a charged silence between you and your neighbor begrudgingly turned, dare you say, friend...

Would he consider you a friend? Did he consider you at all? Of course he did. You'd been hanging out at least weekly for the past almost three months. You were friends. Right?

You forced the ridiculous thoughts away, not needing to dwell on them. It didn't matter.

"You just moved in a few months ago, you're trynna leaving already?" you asking trying to sound nonchalant.

He kept his eyes on you, and you could feel him keenly watching your every reaction. You just prayed he couldn't see too much. You didn't need to embarrass yourself anymore today.

His tongue jutted out past his pink lips before his ever-present smirk returned. "No, I'm not. Just wanted to see your reaction. And if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a little let down there, sweetheart."

You clicked your tongue, scoffing while you fought a smile as you eyed him challengingly. "Good thing you know better, then."

"Good thing," he nodded as he smiled wittingly at you.

"Can I have my keys back now?"

He took a deep breath in through his nose and out before turning around to continue out the gate and down the street.

"After we eat," he said over his shoulder, expecting you to follow him. "We're going to that Chinese place I was telling you about the other day." He held the gate for you and after a second, you walked out, waiting for him to lead the way. As easy as it would be for you to argue, you were starving.

"You're lucky I'm hungry, Barnes."

You were walking side by side as you felt him look over at you, simpering. You looked over to him in return and despite the brisk air hitting your face as you walked, your skin felt flushed - the look in his eyes causing warmth to rise under your cheeks as your own eyes flitted away, back to the street in front of you. You took a grounding breath.

“Lucky for a lot of reasons, doll. Guess good timing’s one of ‘em.”

"Joe's gonna have my ass if he sees the food I dropped on the floor," you laughed as you remembered the mess you’d left outside your apartment door. Bucky looked straight ahead then, too, unconsciously puffing out his chest as he brought his shoulders back and stood straighter. In that moment, you couldn’t help but admire how built he was, his tall stature and muscular frame. You wondered if he noticed the people who were avoiding him as they walked by, or the ones who ogled him as they passed. You certainly did.

"Ah, I wouldn't worry about it. Just take him up on that coffee date he keeps asking you for and he'll be cleaning it up himself." The normal levity his voice carried when he spoke to you was gone. He sounded...off, maybe a little huffy. You weren't sure why.

"How do you know about that?" you asked.

He took a second before he responded, a smirk gracing his face once again as he looked at you. "Thin walls," he answered, his eyes running up and down your figure as you faltered for just a moment, keeping your gaze ahead of you.

"Thin walls? Or super hearing?"

"A bit of both, maybe," he considered as he walked a bit closer to you. When he took another step near you, his arm brushing yours, you stopped walking, glancing over to him but not turning to face him head on. He leaned into you and spoke near your ear, his breath warm on your wind chilled skin, "You'd be surprised all the things I'm able to hear. Even the tiniest little squeaks in the middle of the night."

His voice was quiet and close and so damn suggestive. It made your stomach flip and sent a tingle through you as you took an unintentionally shaky breath at his proximity.

He leaned further past you and when your eyes followed his movements in front of and across your body, you realized you were standing in front of the restaurant, and he was pulling the door open for you.

When you finally managed to bring yourself to look at him, he was wearing a cocksure smile, while you worked hard to make sure you didn't let your mortification show, tried to play it cool like you had no idea what he could possibly be referring to. But with the way he was looking so sure and satisfied, you must have failed.

You cleared your throat as you turned sharply to walk past him into the restaurant, through the door he was holding for you. The second you stepped in, he was right behind you. You were halted in your path almost immediately after walking further inside as a man was leaving. There was a tight little hallway that led from the front entrance to the rest of the restaurant and you almost ran into him in the tight space, apologizing as you pressed yourself closer to the wall next to you so you didn’t touch him. There was a feeling of self consciousness threating to take over as you assessed the space you were taking up as opposed to that of the people trying to pass you. It was evident, at least in your mind, that you were the problem. You figured it'd be best to just back up out of the hallway and let them walk by without being so in the way. So caught up in your distance between you and the people in front of you, you hadn’t even recognized Bucky’s chest at your back, or your ass unintentionally flush against his crotch until his metal hand gripped your hip when you wiggled back to make room for the new people who were leaving.

You heard his sharp inhale as he held you still and wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole so you wouldn’t be able to keep embarrassing yourself. You weren't sure if you should mention it and apologize or just act like nothing happened…

“Sorry,” you breathed. Bucky didn’t respond, only squeezed your hip lightly again.

When the people who were leaving were past you, you turned your head to look at Bucky. “Go in front,” you ordered a bit snippy, not wanting to lead the way. You’d never been here and you didn’t know where to go and you were, understandably, already feeling flustered.

“Can't,” he responded, voice tight, urging you forward with his hand still on your hip. Your eyes widened though he couldn’t see before your brows furrowed in disbelief.

“Are you joking?”

“You were just wiggling your ass against me, doll, it’s not like I’m doing it on purpose. I’m only human,”

“Well I didn’t do it on purpose, either,” you hissed quietly. "I can't believe you,"

Truth be told, Bucky couldn't believe himself either. He had a lot more self control than most, and such a light touch from anyone would never have him this visibly worked up. But the second you grazed against him, he immediately felt his cock stirring. It certainly didn't help that he'd only just been replaying the sounds of your desperate little moans, the ones he hears in the middle of the night along with the soft rumbling of whatever toy it is you use. The sweet sounds float into his room and all he can do it groan and torture himself with the thoughts of you, with the thoughts of one day getting to hear those whimpers in his ear as you wrap yourself around him and not just through the painfully thin walls of your apartment all alone...

He likes to imagine it's a sleek black rabbit. Envisions you pumping the silicone length in and out of your slick cunt as your head is thrown back in ecstasy, your breasts on full display, pert nipples just begging to be lavished upon as you arch your back, your thick thigh parted to afford him the perfect view of your glistening sex. Your tight pussy taking the toy so nicely, he can only imagine how incredible your silky walls feel gripping the length and squeezing along it as you work it in and out of yourself. He can't help but imagine what you'd feel like on his thick cock...his cock that, fucking hell, at this moment, was only growing harder and if he wasn't careful, he'd make himself look like even more a perverted jackass than he already had.

He forced himself to stop thinking about it, but it was impossible to stop thinking about you. Even if you weren't right here with him now, he was sure you'd be on his mind. He'd been finding himself having thoughts of you more and more frequently, even about the most mundane things. It seemed like every little thing led back to you.

He'd only known you now for a few months, but you seemed to occupy enough space in his mind that he would've sworn he'd known you for years. It felt that way, too. Like he could easily be himself around you, his true self. He wasn't sure you knew what effect you had on him, how you effortlessly got his walls down without even trying. He had no idea what it was about you, but it was something.

He's always being told how he was short with people, cold, closed off, grumpy, blunt, etc., etc., and he knew he was. There weren't many people he wanted to get to know, not many he wanted to even have to speak to. But with you.. It was almost embarrassing how excited he'd get when he'd hear your voice in the hallway, bounding up from wherever he was inside and heading straight for the door, pulling his boots on as fast as he could and grabbing his keys, then taking a second to compose himself and regain his air of cool before walking out the door. It didn't matter he had no plans of going anywhere, he just wanted an excuse to see you, to talk to you even if only in passing. He had a system to it now, too. If you were just getting home from somewhere, he'd pretend he was on his way to check his mail and if you were leaving, he'd be leaving, too. Taking the elevator with you, or the stairs depending on your mood, and then begrudgingly parting ways so he didn't appear like such a pup.

Occasionally, normally if it was late when you were headed out, he'd invite himself to go with you wherever it was you were going. On the times he'd miss your leaving, or you seemed like you wanted to be alone, he'd just...very nonchalantly, super casually, stealthily... follow you around the city. Not in a creepy way, he told himself. Just in a, a friendly, watching out for you way. It hadn't happened more than a handful of times, so it wasn't like he was stalking you. He really just wanted to make sure you were okay.

"You okay?" your voice asked, snapping him from his thoughts.

"'M fine, doll,"

"Great, well are you gonna apologize?" you said expectantly, turning your eyes on him as you looked up over your shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he breathed a smiled.

"Thank you," you stated simply before turning back around to look at the menu board. "And you can take your hand off of me now," you added, not wanting to say it while facing him, lest he catch the look in your eyes making it evident you wouldn't mind all that much if he kept his hands on your forever. And you wouldn't say it, but his touch was oddly comforting. You found yourself disappointed when he let his hand slip down from its place on your hip.

"Did I tell you my couch got delivered?"

"Oh yeah?" you laughed, grateful for the change in conversation.

"Mhm," he affirmed. "It could use some wearing in," he hinted.

"Not comfy?"

"Not just yet."

"Hm. I'm sure it'll get there."

"Come on, don't make me beg here,"

"Beg? For what?"

"You know what I'm getting at,"

"Do I?" you questioned, playing dumb. He sighed loudly as he stepped from behind you, moving instead to stand next to you again.

"Would you come over tonight? I'll even let you pick what we watch,"

You narrowed your eyes at the proposal. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

You pursed your lips, pretending to think on it, knowing full well your answer was a 'yes' the second he brought it up. "Okay," you agreed with a soft smile that you tried to hide.

He looked down at you next to him, admiring the way it felt so right to be near you, even as simply as this, as he smiled in return. "So you wanna eat here or take it back to my place?"

series masterlist

[python333]

déjà vu — python333

— — — —

synopsis you and ghost are more similar than the two of you realized.

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 2.88k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [call sign/code name], ghost's backstory [yes that is a warning within itself], kind of badly written.

note holy shitttttt i'm so sorry i haven't posted in two months. to everyone who is disappointed this isn't a req they submitted—i am very sorry but i have like. no motivation. please take this small fic as a peace offering after being silent for two months. also yes i said alej fic but i only had motivation to write for ghost LMAO

“So…” Ghost can hear Price next to him, creating an echo as he speaks through his earpiece, “Doesn’t it get hot, always wearing that mask?” 

“Not when it’s made of the right materials,” Your voice crackles through, the wind blowing by slightly distorting your voice, “It’s also winter, captain, so no, it doesn’t get hot.” 

The corners of Ghost’s lips twitch upwards when you answer, but he otherwise doesn’t say or do anything, simply leaning against the wall parallel to Price. For you, maybe your mask doesn’t get hot, but his certainly does—though, he doesn’t voice that, simply listening. 

“Oh really?” Price hums, looking around the corner of the wall he’s leaned up against, spotting a few enemy soldiers walking by without a clue of who they’re in the presence of, “What’s yours made of, then?” 

“Polyester,” You answer. 

From what Ghost understands, you wear a mask for the same reason as him—anonymity. As much as he can respect that and understand the want to remain anonymous, he can’t help but wonder why you would want that. Is it for reasons similar to why he wears his? Have you gone through things similar to what he’s gone through? Did a fellow SAS soldier also murder your entire family and attempt to pin it on you, to which you responded by killing him, stealing his dog tags, and burning your own house down? He had many questions, but didn’t ask any. 

He doesn’t think you’d answer them, anyway. He certainly wouldn’t. He’d maybe try to divert the conversation with a bad dad joke, or simply not dignify the question with a response, anything but an actual answer. He strangely expects the same of you. 

He vaguely remembers a conversation he had with Price when you first joined maybe two months ago, specifically a comment Price had made about your file; “I had the same conversation with Laswell about their file that I did when I first got yours. She said the same thing when she saw their file, too, word for word.”

It turned out that they had the exact same exchange that they did when they saw Ghost’s file, verbatim. Laswell had pointed out that you had no picture, and Price said, “Never.” Ever since then, Ghost has felt an inexplicable connection to you, despite not having talked to you that much. 

He’ll admit, he tried to initiate a conversation with you more often than he did with the others when he first met them. Maybe one or two times a day, he’d find you and make small talk, something that made his skin crawl with discomfort but something he still forced himself to do, just to try and make sense of the invisible line that seemed to tie you both together. 

This small talk started off as anything from a question about the weather—yes, Ghost asked about the weather, unfortunately for the both of you considering how awkward and stilted that short conversation was—to asking about training and skills. He didn’t normally initiate conversations with anyone else, he was typically the one that was walked up to and barely even had to carry any conversations he was in. 

Every conversation the two of you had always ended the same way, though; with you cutting it short the moment it got anywhere near your personal life, or even just your life outside of being a part of the 141, and walking off elsewhere. Ghost could see the tiniest bit of himself in you everytime you did that, and an annoying voice in the back of his mind always asked, Was I always that much of a hardass? … Am I that much of a hardass?

“Ghost,” Price’s voice snaps Ghost out of his train of thought and he grunts, looking over at Price. The man in question nods his head towards the now clear path to the building they needed to get into, and Ghost nodded back, taking his SMG out of the sling and moving out of the small alleyway they’d camped in, following after Price. 

They quickly rush over to the building, the doors thankfully unlocked and the soldiers guarding it stupid enough to not be right beside the front doors, and lock the doors behind them once they’re in. 

“Are you guys in?” You ask, the wind no longer distorting your voice, the background of your audio now relatively silent except for your faint breathing. 

“Yeah,” Price replies, the darkness of the building making him squint as he scans the walls for some sort of light switch, “Anyone notice we got in?”

“Not that I can see, no,” You answer, your sigh audible through the comms, “They’re pretty far from the building, actually.” 

“Perfect,” Price hums, patting his hand along the wall for a moment before finding a large lever. He hesitates to pull it, and ultimately decides against it, deeming it too risky. Instead, he searches his tactical vest and goes through a few large pockets that sit around his lower midriff before finding a relatively small flashlight. 

He presses the button on the end of the handle with a small click, and the flashlight flickers for a moment before the light becomes consistent and a small buzz begins to sound. Price looks around for a second, scanning the area for any immediate threats, and motions for Ghost to follow him. 

“See anything?” You ask curiously, some rustling heard on your end. Ghost looks around for a second, footsteps echoing eerily through the building. 

“Nothing important,” He replies, voice quiet, “Just dust and old furniture.” 

“His office is just down there,” Price interjects, nodding towards the hall to their left, making Ghost look in that same direction, “I’ll head down there, you stay here, let me know if anyone’s coming.” 

The echo from Price talking to Ghost both through comms and being right beside him, as well as the echo from being in such a large room, starts to irritate Ghost. He rolls his shoulders and puts his gun back in the sling, looking back at Price.

“Turn off your comms,” His suggestion sounds more like a command, but he’s sure Price understands it’s more of a request than anything else, “You’re echoing. If anything happens, I can just talk to you without them.” 

Price pauses before nodding, and pressing the small button on his earpiece to turn off his mic, and the piece entirely. He trusts Ghost wholeheartedly, and it shows. He takes one last look around before walking towards the office he pointed out. 

The office belonged to the man who had stolen vital intel from the 141—not intelligence on the task force itself, but rather a separate team that had recently allied themselves with the task force. They couldn’t risk that data being taken, as it would not only expose the other team, but several other similar teams and task forces. 

Ghost waits until Price is actually in the hall before speaking again, “You still there, [c/n]?” 

“Yeah,” You answer almost immediately, “Need something?” 

“No,” Ghost hums, leaning against the wall behind him, “Just wanted to talk.” 

“Please don’t ask me about the weather again,” You sigh, almost exasperated, “Or about how my training is going, or about how my CO is, or—” 

“I’m not,” Ghost interrupts you, not sure whether to laugh or cry at your examples of past conversations. 

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” He says, before asking, “How long were you apart of the army, before joining here?” 

“Before the 141?” You pause, thinking for a moment, “Sounds kind of personal.” 

“You don’t have to answer,” Ghost offers, voice almost reassuring, “Just curious.” 

“Aren’t you always,” You mutter, a comment Ghost promptly ignores, before you properly answer, “Just a year. Maybe a year and a half.” 

“American army, right?”

“Mhm,” You hum, “Would you believe me if I said we sang Yankee Doodle before going on any missions?”

“Oh, sure I would,” Ghost chuckles, before countering, “Would you believe me if I said that song was made to mock Americans?” 

“I’m not sure if I should be offended that you believe that,” You say, a lighter lilt to your voice as you do compared to a few moments ago, “But yes, I believe you. I think that almost every American has reclaimed it as one of the most patriotic songs, though.” 

“Almost every American?” Ghost questions, growing more amused as the conversation goes on. It confuses him, making him wonder why he’s so easily drawn into conversations with you, no matter how small or dry. 

“I’m sure there’s some here and there that don’t like it,” You elaborate, “But I haven’t met any. Not yet.” 

“Alright,” Ghost nods even though you can’t see him, before asking another question, “What branch?” 

“The Navy,” You answer, now without questioning Ghost which brings him a strange sense of relief, “I flew planes around and stuff. Didn’t really like it, though.” 

“Oh yeah?” Ghost sounds more interested now, “Why not?” 

“The soldiers there aren’t the best people to be around,” You hum, the sounds of you moving audible, “One mention of any sort of mental issues, even if it’s just something like feeling anxious or being sleep deprived, and suddenly everyone’s on your ass pressuring you to be better or just… being weird about it. It gets draining after a while.” 

“I bet,” Ghost murmurs, “Is that why you left?” 

“Partially,” You answer honestly, “Half of it was that, the other half was that I just didn’t like flying planes. I was also eighteen and couldn’t really control my impulsive thoughts, so a majority of the time I was fighting myself trying not to crash the plane on purpose.” 

“Makes sense,” Ghost considers what you said for a moment, before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he asks, “Isn’t the enlistment age for the Navy nineteen?” 

“It is,” You assure him, “I was an exception, ‘cause I was a month or two away from turning nineteen.” 

“Hm,” Ghost hums, “And you’re twenty now?” 

“Twenty, almost twenty-one,” You confirm. 

“Did you wear the mask back then?” Ghost asks, praying that the question isn’t too personal to the point where you stop responding. He’s been dying to ask the question, always worrying whether or not it was too personal—it was pretty personal, to be fair, but he wasn’t used to worrying this much over another soldier, much less one he only met two months ago. Sure, you both wore a mask and remained somewhat anonymous, but that didn’t mean you two were automatically best friends who braided each other’s hair. 

“...” You don’t respond for a moment, making Ghost’s worry increase, before you reply, “No.”

Your simple answer makes Ghost more curious, and he can’t tell if he should ask why or not. He stays silent for a few seconds, weighing his options, before he ultimately says, “Alright.” 

He tries to leave it up to you whether or not you want to tell him about your own story, of if you’re comfortable with that, which you probably aren’t, considering that—again—the two of you only met a couple months ago.

“Did you wear the mask?” You ask quietly a moment later, catching Ghost off-guard, “Before this?” 

“Before the 141?” He echoes your question from earlier, nodding to himself, “Yeah. For some time before this, I had a different mask, but it was still a mask.” 

“Was the skull always there?” 

“Mhm.” 

“… For just aesthetic purposes, or?” Ghost feels the corners of his lips tug up in amusement at your question, and at how genuinely curious you sound. 

“Eh. Not really,” He answers, taking a deep breath in and out through his nose. He doesn’t say any more than that, not being able to as his mind takes him back to a time a while ago, when he was being held hostage and was in the same room as some kids who heard him spill his entire background to the men holding him hostage. 

He remembers one kid in particular, a little girl with blonde hair, who had listened to every detail that he’d said. When he was telling the story of why he has the call sign Ghost, in hopes of distracting the men so that the 141 could rescue him and the kids, she had clung to every detail and later asked him if what he had said was true, her tone of voice eerily similar to yours. 

He remembers when he was carrying her out of that room, the questions she’d bombarded him with, and how he answered every one with as neutral of an answer he could muster. He debates doing that now with any questions you ask, but decides against it almost instantly—something that shocks him, even though it was his own thought—considering that he wanted to ask you those same questions. Not about your call sign, only about the mask. 

“It’s a long story,” He says after you’ve been silent for a while, your curiosity somehow palpable even through just the comms, “But it has to do with some family members.” 

“Yeah?” You hum, “I know a thing or two about that.” 

“Do you?” Ghost asks, slightly ashamed at the small jolt of excitement he feels at the opportunity of hearing more about you. 

“Mhm,” You pause, staying quiet for a moment, before continuing, “About family members. Dead ones.” 

“Ah,” Ghost nods, the discomfort he originally felt sharing some of his own story starting to melt away, “Dead ones. I understand.” 

“Can’t tell if I should be glad or not,” You snort, “Like, I’m glad you understand, but also sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Ghost grins under his mask, “I was wondering the same thing.” 

“So… dead ones,” You think out loud, before asking, “That’s why you have that call sign and mask?” 

“Yeah,” Ghost looks around for a moment, reminding himself to keep watch while talking to you, before cautiously asking, “Are yours the reason for your mask?” 

“Not really,” You answer honestly, with a little less resistance behind your answer to Ghost’s relief, “Well… I mean, kind of. But they’re not the reason-reason. I didn’t really like them, so I’m not gonna give them all the credit, but I’ll give them… maybe twenty-five percent of it.” 

“A quarter’s still a lot,” Ghost points out, “What’d they do to earn that?” 

“They died, and…” You’re doing more pausing and hesitating now, making Ghost wonder if he’s going to personal every second that you stay quiet, before you finally answer in a more guarded tone, “I almost got blamed for it. Almost.” 

Ghost gets hit with a pang of mixed emotions, like a weird sort of uncomfortable nostalgia. They almost got blamed for it. He lets out a breath that’s slightly shaky, and thinks for a moment before saying, “Almost?” 

“Almost,” You confirm, tone a little less guarded, presumably at Ghost’s more calm reaction, “Then I handled it the best I could, and the guy who killed them got what he deserved.” 

“Which was?” Ghost feels more of that uncomfortable nostalgia bubble up, giving him an uneasy feeling in his gut, as if he knows where this conversation is going. 

“Death,” You answer softly, “And the nameplate on his uniform stolen, which I replaced with mine. I would’ve taken his dog tags, but we didn’t really wear them on missions ‘cause our drill sergeant didn’t care too much.” 

Ghost can put a name to the feeling now. Déjà vu. He takes a deep breath and considers your words for a moment. 

“And the body?” His lips move before he can think. 

“Burnt.” You answer simply, “The whole house. It was mainly drywall, so it took a moment to actually completely catch on fire, but it was quick enough. It also smelled disgusting.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Ghost swallows, vividly remembering the smell of his own house, before continuing, “He was a soldier for the Navy, too?” 

“Mhm. He was… a Private, I think,” You reply, “I wasn’t too close with him. I wasn’t with anyone.” 

“And so the reason you wear the mask is…?” 

“I didn’t really exist anymore after that,” You hum, “At least, not to them. I was dead in a burned down house, my own house, and was far gone. I like wearing the mask; it keeps me as just another soldier, not as the person who died in that house.” 

“But you didn’t,” Ghost points out, trying to ignore the eerie feeling that only grows stronger the more you talk, “You’re here.” 

“… Yeah, I am,” You say after a moment of thinking, smile evident in your voice, “Doesn’t mean I can take that back, though. ‘s not the best feeling, doing something like that.” 

“Trust me, I know,” Ghost chuckles, “If anyone here, I’d be the person to know, kid.” 

“Really?” You ask, voice more curious like it was before, “Why’s that?” 

“I’ve… weirdly been through almost everything you said,” Ghost admits, “Word for word with the house burning down, actually.” 

“… Huh,” You huff out a small laugh before saying, “I’m wondering if I should feel happy or sad again.” 

“Me too, again,” Ghost smiles, eyes flickering up at Price’s footsteps sound through the hallway, his silhouette slowly coming into view, “One last question.” 

“Shoot.” 

“How’s the weather?” 

“I’m not answering that, fuck you.”

[beneathashadytree]

Other ask lol This is a bit spoiler-y in regards to Rafayel's lore.

Rafayel's Your Fragrance card is visually stunning and quite sexy, but when the scent of the perfume is described, it sounded exactly like the potion he had witch MC make him.

And his reaction as he's sniffing MCs wrist actually breaks my heart. Who do you think he meant when he said "is this how they're trying to trap me?" (Not verbatim, I can't remember the exact words)

Spoiler alert!!!

I’m honestly pretty insane about Rafayel’s myths and past, even though there’s a vague “missing” period of his life with little info to go off of, so I’ve thought about this often, actually. I have all of Rafayel’s cards so far, and what I’ve put together so far is this: MC was—at some point—forced to collude with someone against Rafayel. Not of their own will, but still, it happened. Rafayel, having already been smitten by them, is PRECISELY the kind of person to let himself get caught despite his own instincts telling him to run away. However, getting caught = getting hurt, and it was inevitable despite his love for them. The potion is reminiscent of both his first love and his first betrayal, and he can’t exactly tell those two apart—because damn it, does he love them, but he’s doomed to death if he stays.

Also, another thing is that in his first myths, Rafayel is promised to MC as an almost-slave. He’s essentially her toy, and as a princess she has every right to destroy him should she wish to. It’s a horrifyingly cruel concept, but it’s very much true. Being “tied up��� or “trapped” is a very recurrent theme in Rafayel’s lore, and it’s exactly BECAUSE he knows just how willingly he would go along with it and how he’d absolutely risk it all just to see/be with MC. Through it all, he still has the instincts of a fighter and a God. It’s a battle between nature vs. desire. It’s tragic, and it means that his reservations can never fully go away, and that he’s always naturally weak for the MC, but it’s also the only way he’s ever known how to love, and he’ll throw himself into it.

[carefulfears]

i know you probably have ten asks from me already but. i need your thoughts on the way scully loves

the thing about scully’s love is that it’s her at her most contradictory. she’s a repressed catholic scientist who writes pulsating gothic enduring love letters. she’s obnoxiously territorial, overt and loud, but relishes subtlety: an opportunity to get away with expressing any extra affection, whether through her credentials (i’m a medical doctor!! you need your hair stroked to cure that scrape on your arm!! the only way to help a dislocated shoulder is for me to snuggle you in the woods!!), or hidden beneath a situational joke (“i’d kiss you if you weren’t so damn ugly”).

she always requires proof, but she tossed her robe off the day she met him, without any sign of trust. she can never get enough, always wants more, but she overwhelms easily: she can never respond or speak when he’s just present with her, she cries. she is sharply aware of who she is, what she wants, she is debilitatingly insecure. she rebels by burning her cycle of rebellion into her skin.

she chases the same 3 moments for the rest of her life: laughing in the rain, a confession in an apartment hallway, absolution via a kiss to the forehead. she has memorized everything that he has ever said. she turns his words around in her head, reveres them, repeats them back. (his dopey face in paper hearts when she cites something he had casually said 2 years earlier, verbatim. the way he lightly covers his mouth. someone listens.)

she fills her home with him when he’s gone. sleeps holding his shirt. puts his fish tank next to her couch. sings the same song she sang to him, all those years ago, to their baby. writes to him while smiling over at the stroller. (17 years later, next to her son, weeping that she’s “so sorry” he didn’t get to know his father).

she wants his presence everywhere in the world, wants him involved and affective, needs “to know [he’s] out there” if she is to survive, as she writes on her deathbed. she wants to keep him somewhere safe and never let him out. she tells him she “worries” about him in “isolation,” then walks out and shuts the door, makes sure the gate is latched when she leaves him in the morning.

she’s always “the strong one,” she cries when it’s safe. she’s an “ice queen” that flirts and giggles girlishly when she feels valued.

she’s brave. there’s nowhere she won’t follow, yes, but there’s also nowhere she won’t stay. there’s no darkness or truth or reality that she wouldn’t sit in, if that’s where he is. she’ll shake and scream and cry when there’s a gun pointed at her: but she will not leave him there, she will not run. she‘s blunt. she spends years tiptoeing around acknowledgment.

she’s 10 inches shorter than he is, but she constantly rises to envelop him. she pulls him to her shoulder. she lowers herself to cover him. she rocks him on the floor.

she stands in the doorway and does not move from in-between him and the world. she blocks him in. she’d never let anything touch him. she never gets her way.

she’s a know-it-all who minds her business, only betrays her awareness quietly and sparingly. she’s almost always wrong. she always knows what’s truly behind an agenda, the exact right thing to say.

she’s embarrassing!! she sleeps holding the phone just in case he calls. she gets ditched for mothmen. she whines for attention, she’ll do anything to spend time with him, SHE WANTS TO HAVE HIS BABIES SOOOOO BAD. she asks “what are we?” after 25 years and 2 kids just to be annoying.

her ass is not escaping that ouroboros (not ever, if that’s where he is), but she doesn’t want to. she “wouldn’t change a day.” she “would do it all over again.” she wants to “remember how it all was.” no matter how dark and drastic the progression of loss gets, she still chooses this life, just like she chose it in the beginning.

she’s rarely truly jealous, she’s outrageously protective. when she is jealous, she retreats. she needs a moment to herself.

(when she’s protective, you won’t be able to shake her for anything)

she shares him with the world only reluctantly. she’s judgmental and mean. she’s inadvertently prophetic. if the person turns out to be a cheat/a thief/a spy, is it really her fault that she was hating on them as soon as they were breathing his air??

she’s heart-achingly kind, and perceptive. she “just knew” that he would be okay, she went to his father’s funeral because he couldn’t. she paused to share hope with his mother. she breaches the astral plane from a coma to tell her sister not to call him “fox.”

for scully, to love is to bear witness. she knows the importance of recognition. she listens. she cries with him. she always suggests he get some sleep, even when it’s laughable. there’s room in any tense situation to stop, check in, acknowledge. love is trust, love is respect, love is devotion. love is consumption.

love is free will winning out over fate, the grief that comes with being starbuck, the price paid to believe in something. to adventure with your best friend. being willing to pay it over, again, again. wanting him to know that.

[darkhugprince]

"It looks kind of like..." (this quote isn't about Asriel)

A common point suggesting that Asriel and Ralsei look alike and thus it makes Ralsei's state of being uncomfortable is to cite Noelle's words when she sees Susie and Ralsei hanging out together. People claim that Noelle states that Ralsei looks like Asriel to Kris, making it clear that they're the same or super similar.

Firstly, let's make sure we're clear on the exact wording that Noelle uses. There have been iterations of this dialogue passed around before. These iterations have included:

"That looks like Asriel."

"He looks like Asriel."

"He looks kind of like..." (Asriel)

"They look like..."

etc. Here is, verbatim, what Noelle says:

The exact wording here is important, because it leads into a couple points that I'm going to make in regard to this not being about Asriel at all. Points are ordered in strength (with the weakest point first, and the strongest point last):

Point 1: It/its is a pretty rude way of referring to someone. (who hasn't expressly said those are their pronouns)

Now that we have the exact wording, we can presume the only way this referring to an Asriel similarity makes sense is with wording like this: "It looks kind of like Asriel".

Except, uh... that's a pretty odd way to word it, isn't it? (Followed up after "Who's that person she's with?" in particular.) The reason why the pronoun is changed in these iterations is because... well, nobody really refers to a person that they don't know like this. Both they and he would make more sense here, and it also falls more in line with Toby's writing style.

Noelle is generally a polite sort of person. The idea that she would intentionally use that kind of wording for him just doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

Point 2: No recognition? No suspicion?

This will go into point 3 some, but it starts off with the idea that if this is supposed to be Noelle thinking Ralsei looks like Asriel, it is a little odd that she a) doesn't seem to pay attention to him first, and b) starts off asking who he even is.

Here's the thing: when you recognize someone in public, your reaction is not going to be, "Who is that?" That wouldn't be the first question someone asks; it's pretty nonsensical. If someone you see in public looks similar to someone you know, you're most likely going to react instead with, "Am I seeing things? Is that... x? From x?" or something akin to that. Not like who you're looking at is a complete stranger.

In addition, Asriel is supposed to be off at college by now, so that would make his appearance here even more surprising. An Asriel lookalike in this space where he decidedly shouldn't be? Suspicious.

Point 3: This is not the response you have toward someone who looks like a close friend you've known since childhood.

Beyond this particular interaction, Noelle doesn't interact much with Ralsei at all nor seem to take any particular interest in him. In fact, he's left so little an impression, when Noelle drinks RALSEI TEA in this chapter, she says, "There's nothing in here!" That suggests absolutely no impression at all. Hell, she might not even remember he exists.

If she was genuinely curious about Ralsei's supposed connection to Asriel, she likely would at least want to ask him, right? Yet, she completely drops wondering anything about Ralsei after this (completely optional) interaction.

There's no shock. There's no fanfare. It's not followed up on, despite one very crucial fact that makes that behavior from Noelle decidedly odd if she's comparing him to Asriel: Noelle is or at least was close to Asriel, enough to be on nickname basis with him; she always calls him "Azzy" in her dialogue. The idea she has no impression at all of Ralsei when he supposedly looks so similar to her friend is... Absolutely boggling to believe, to be honest.

So what was it she was going to say, then?

Well, here's my guess:

"It looks kind of like they're on a date."

Not only does this make sense contextually (they kind of do look like that, to a stranger), but that would be in-character and in-line for Noelle's behavior throughout the chapter. She does try to "sus out" Susie's relationships to other characters, and... well, we don't need to talk about how she gets when Berdly confesses to liking Susie himself.

[jerreeeeeee]

i read the eleventh hour graphic novel, here's some praises and criticisms. unfortunately it’s mostly negative, but i did truly try to give it a fair shake and have an open mind

things i liked:

-prelude with jack and june and mysterious red robe was a good addition, it's intriguing, it fills out the world, it introduces jack and june in a fitting way (sidenote to that, why does jack look more like magnus than magnus does)

-ANGUS hi angus :) whatever else in the gns i bitch about know that angus is perfect

-having the lunar interludes be little moments of memory as they’re dying was a cool and clever way to include them

-time stamps are super helpful, i remember the podcast always got a little messy and confusing with the timeline of the hour to me at least

-REN hi ren :) her design isn’t like awesome or anything she also kinda suffers from ugly blue blonde elf syndrome (or purple and whitehaired i guess. although she’s a drow so it makes more sense) but i am glad they made her fat

-getting rid of the diamond stuff was a great way to cut down on noncritical runtime. even in the podcast it was very clearly just a way to get thb to go to different places and stuff, which is appropriate in a dnd actual play but not so much in a graphic novel. having the prophecies fall according to istus’ whim is also much more thematically relevant and introduces istus earlier than like.. right before she shows up. good decision all around

-really glad they kept most of the verbatim wording of lucretia’s admission to merle about her choices and the loss of her dear friends, and while i don’t hate the way merle responds, i do kinda miss “you do have faith, it’s faith in you.” going further in on merle’s insecurities and doubts is great but i also love the way in the podcast he was so reassuring to lucretia and she felt like she could confide in him and receive wisdom. and also pointing out that lucretia does have a really strong faith and conviction and commitment to doing what she thinks is right. determination and reliance on herself are big traits of hers, for better or worse, and i really liked that line

-i enjoyed the extended istus scene where she explains what she does a little more but is still very vague and mystical and deific. and her saying that in this world the force of fate is less laying things out in a predetermined exacting pattern, and more making a pattern and story out of events as they happen and as they are about to happen. she’s a chronicler of sorts. she’s continually weaving the tapestry. nice little bit of expansion on that idea and her role thematically. also istus sorta resembles lucretia facially, which i’m not sure if its intentional or just the similar face syndrome the whole thing suffers from and the fact that carey sometimes struggles to draw people of color (<- she's gotten much better at it, to her credit, angus and kravitz both look very good). if it is intentional it’s a nice touch

-changing merle’s regret to be leaving his family. obvious choice but a very critical one. the reason adaptations have their advantages. merle’s kids were presumably not even thought up yet by this point in the story in the podcast, but of course it makes so much more sense to bring them in here

-taako remembering that magnus asked after julia in crystal kingdom is cute. he cares about his friends :)

-in general: the environment design, colors, and panelling is consistently good. no problems there, refuge looks very nice.

things i didn’t like:

-got rid of the line where taako says its probably better for boyland’s family not to remember that they lost him. it’s a tiny thing and more or less inconsequential but it hits me like a truck whenever i relisten to the podcast

-taako’s outfit is ugly sorry. he’s always ugly and his color palette is awful but this one was especially egregious to me idk. eleventh hour should’ve had fun outfits that look good. magnus�� and merle’s aren’t terrible but they’re kinda cluttered and uninteresting. not as bad as taako still. the skirt looks weirdly thick? i guess i can’t talk cause i’m terrible at drawing skirts too but idk it almost looks like winter clothes to me, weird and out of place. also stop giving him heels just because he’s gay. weird choices all around. i don’t like it. i don’t like blue taako. in fact i hate his ugly ass. had to be said so i can ignore it for the rest of this post

-roswell doesn’t look as cool as they could but the bird is cute

-taako doesn’t tell angus about glamor springs!! that sucks!! that was an important moment of vulnerability and connection between his past and present relationships with his apprentices!! i know they want to keep the reveal of the poison further in the book with only vague reference/foreshadowing beforehand but. idk i hate that taako’s moment of honesty with angus is gone i feel like that was important to that arc

-i know “something about the dying feels familiar” doesn’t really work since its narration but they could’ve like. asked each other if they were ok or something and worked that into the dialogue or had it be a thought bubble or something. eleventh hour is so huge for themes and foreshadowing etc and i feel like they just blew right past that. what’s the point of the time loop and the deaths if you aren’t examining the consequences at all. also skipping over so many of the loops for time and just showing a bunch of them in a montage makes sense for the format but it also gets rid of the futility and exhaustion that the time loop is like… literally meant to engender. i don’t know what the fix here is but something’s been lost.

-NOT a real or valid criticism since there’s literally no way to do it in a visual format but so much is lost from paloma’s character without her batshit bjork accent i miss her

-sad that luca and redmond were cut, i don’t think they were like, super important, but it didn’t make a whole lot of sense for it to be ren instead? i liked luca i thought he was fun i like seeing religious characters in dnd worlds and the moment of him and redmond raising the temple is more cinematic and gives weight to the threat of the time loop, that if they don’t do it in time they have to start all over, and gives the temple a sense of respite and divinity in its place frozen in time. more than magnus just sprinting away to unlock it with a random key after the others already died. also it’s very much… barebones hehehe… but rip the like smidgen of foreshadowing with pairs of siblings where one of them is a skeleton in a cave lol. i don’t think this was a bad decision per se i understand why they did it but still a little sad

-junebug scene sucked. too rushed in the monologue, no sense of stakes or urgency as taako’s reading the diary, immediately cut away before roswell could even react?

-pacing is a huge problem in general for this book and i’ll wager to guess it’ll be a problem in the suffering game too. i know seven is a nice and thematically significant number of books to have but they really should’ve split at least this arc and the remaining arcs into 2 books. spells disaster for stolen century and story and song all being in one book

-“patience is not one of my strong suits” fuck off actually. taako is canonically a great teacher and also fishes as a hobby, the two things that require the most patience in the world. he hangs back and waits, he’s specifically not the impulsive impatient one. maybe this is nitpicking but i don’t care. these little mischaracterizations, especially ones influenced by common fandom mischaracterizations, are small on their own but pretty prevalent, and they piss me off. the graphic novels want tres horny boys to be stupid and immature and one dimensional for laffs sooo bad but you can’t have them be like that all the time or the impactful moments just fall through because they’re unearned!! you have to strike a balance!!

-why was merle given the chance to decide whether to stay in the final hunger battle as his gift?? taako was the only one who even considered taking it??

-why is sazed’s name changed? philippe?? is the name sazed trademarked??? kind of annoying

-changing the convo to be instead of taako rudely shutting down sazed’s presumptuous ambitions, to just be him being cruel for no reason to ‘the help,’ i don’t like that. don’t get me wrong taako was an asshole, i want him to be an asshole in this scene, but like, he doesn’t wield an employer’s power over sazed because he’s a snobby brat who relishes stomping on those below him, ‘the help,’ it’s because he’s unused to being on the advantaged side of a power dynamic and, more crucially, allows himself to be closed off and selfish regardless of the harm it causes to others. you know, the character flaw we see him struggle with in the canon era and as far back as the stolen century. he’s not a fucking aristocrat who thinks servants are inferior. idk i think sazed is quite important to taako’s arc, actually, so changing it like this is not welcome for me. especially in conjunction with the fact that angus was so distanced from the reveal of that part of the backstory, and taako making the same mistake by lying to ren to take advantage of her adoration (and subsequently apologizing and bettering himself) was cut out entirely, etc, etc… like what’s even the point now honestly.

-WAIT OK I READ FURTHER ITS EVEN WORSE. it almost seems like taako already knew sazed was responsible?? where is the guilt?? where is the relief at it not being his fault?? the lingering guilt that even though he didn’t poison them he still feels like he drove sazed to?? come the fuck onnn i know we’re dumbing down their arcs and their characters but that sucks so bad like Literally what is the point of showing us this if it doesn’t actually matter and results in no consequences or growth or story at all

-“if you wanted me to blame myself for their deaths you should have gotten to me before my therapist” WHAT DO YOU MEANNN so we’re just gonna have all character development happen offscreen?? what the FUCK. is the therapist thing a joke? is it serious? neither makes any sense?? why did he struggle with and come to terms with this traumatic event and major part of his arc completely OFFSCREEN I FEEL INSANE. i was afraid i was unfairly judging the graphic novels because i think the character design is bad but it turns out the writing is too. what have they done to my fucking boy. should i even bother to keep reading.

-

i did finish the book. all in all, the things i liked were mostly obvious choices for an adaptation to make, and the things i disliked were major fumbles in narrative and themes.

i’ve seen a lot of people say, “well, it’s a different story, you can’t compare it to the original and not appreciate it on its own, it’s its own thing.” first of all, it’s not its own thing, its an adaptation, of course you can compare it to the original, that’s how adaptations work. and second of all, i can’t appreciate it on its own, because without the podcast for context, it wouldn’t make any fuckin sense! it’s poorly written in general but it especially expects the reader to have a familiarity with the original story. and with the podcast for context, i’m consistently disappointed, because it’s just a worse, more simplistic, less impactful rehashing of the story that takes all my favorite characters and moments and renders them shallower.

so all in all, i remain unchanged in my opinion: the graphic novels are not good. they are, in fact, bad.

[thecapricunt1616]

Capri's Carmyxreader & CarmyxSydney one shot Prompt lists ♡

Hello! Here I have a list of prompts for you all, if you want to make a request but aren't exactly sure what to ask - or if you simply want to see something from me off of any of these lists - please request it ♡ :) You can find the link to request from me right... ->

♡ Here ♡

I am currently (as of 5/9/24) only writing for Carmen Berzatto, (& SydCarmy!!! Please if you have a SxC request SEND IT! As well as Richie Jerimovich. I am working on other things for other characters I will post here as I become more comfortable writing for others, it takes me a while to feel confident portraying a character that already exists!! ♡♡♡

MY ONLY "RULE" IS IF YOU ASK ME A REQUEST YOU AREN'T ALLOWED TO ASK OTHER WRITERS THE SAME EXACT ASK VERBATIM. For instance if I get a "Hey! Can I get CarmyxReader where Carmy & Reader get engaged in Paris?!" & the same day - I see ANOTHER TB FF writer posting an ask that says "Hey! Can I get CarmyxReader where Carmy & Reader get engaged in Paris?!" I'll let you know, I'm a Swiftie - I will find you! Even if you are on anon, I will block you and assure you have no access to my work ever again! If you say "Hey! I saw another ask on @/thebearfanfictionwriter & loved it abt carmy & reader getting engaged in paris- I would looove your take on it!" totally different story i'll absolutely partake in that, even if you say you cant remember who wrote it originally but you were inspired by their fic and want my take on it- I will HAPPILY indulge you! Also - if you were like "hey I saw a fic abt readerxcarmy engaged in paris it got me thinking - carmyxreader paris smut as a request??" THAT is also ok!! But do nooootttt copy paste asks to different people - its rude in the sense you're impatient and almost asking multiple people your same prompt because you dont wanna write it yourself so wanna see who will write it first so you can indulge in your own idea. Sorry for the long bleh about the single rule - but thats how firm I am on it. Without further ado - ask away!!!

**please dont let that blurb scare you from asking like I said as long as you don't just copy paste copy paste for your asks i'll be over the moon to write for you pookie!! any time I get an ask I wanna cry w/ happiness frfr!!!**

♡"I take it back, I'm sorry!" ♡ "Phrases/Actions that make me drop to my knees, ready to submit." ♡ "You're Blushing" ♡ "Quiet acts of love that make me cry" ♡ "We are eachothers safe space" ♡ "Soft moments that are just so precious" ♡ "Asking for permission" ♡ "Denial of romantic feelings" ♡ "Words & Actions that affectionately scream 'you're mine' " ♡ Good ol' smut prompts :D

***Of course if there is something you want to request not on this list // if its original please request! this is just to encourage requests to get me to flex my writing / request muscle more!!!***

[r-osehips]

And now is when I must posit a question that has been weighing on me greatly: Is it possible we’re wrong about Lottie being the Antler Queen? We deduced as much after she was framed by antlers in a shot in season one and then later actually donned a crown made from them. But is this genuine confirmation? Could our real Antler Queen be Shauna? Something about the way the Antler Queen gestures for the others to eat the flesh in the show’s pilot does echo the way Shauna grants permission to feast on Jackie in “Edible Complex.” Could Lottie’s ascension to a cult leader in her adulthood not be an attempt to reclaim the position she had in the woods but rather a position that she was denied and feels she is owed? Or is Lottie indeed the Antler Queen and Shauna is something like her war general? After all, we don’t see the Antler Queen do any of the hunting or slaying herself; it’s easy to assume Shauna’s holding the knife when a girl’s throat is slashed to drain her blood in the pilot. Adult Lottie, on the surface, seems more nefarious than Adult Shauna, but doesn’t that hinge on the exact assumptions I’m talking about when I say these dangerous men in the chop shop don’t see Shauna as just as dangerous as them? Shauna might not have an army of followers, but she’s like a sleeper agent, performing a boring by-the-numbers life while harboring a hunger for violence, for murder! This monologue makes her sound extremely hungry for murder! She would never cry over dead bees like Lottie.

[…] A common narrative about serial killers is that they can often live very normal lives, with spouses, kids, quaint little homes tucked into quiet neighborhoods. And they can often go through long stretches of not killing, too. How many people has Shauna killed? The way she talks here, I think it’s much more than just Adam. I think stabbing Adam, which she also did so easily and without any remorse despite having a long sexual affair with him, reanimated something dormant in her. I don’t think Shauna has been secretly serial killing for the past 25 years, but I do think she has killed more than we think and isn’t just capable of violence but actively courts it.

And that brings me back to a subtle but ultimately very meaningful parallel I noticed between the two Shaunas in this episode. Remember those bolded words from above that Shauna says to Jeff? She said she liked the affair with Adam, because she felt like she didn’t know what was going to happen. Later, Teen Shauna says the following to Lottie in the cabin, still reckoning with the Jackie feast from the night before and clearly rattled by it:

“I’m scared, Lottie. Everything just feels out of control, like I don’t know what’s gonna happen next. What if I—”

Lottie interrupts her to say she won’t hurt the baby. And there’s a lot packed into this short conversation between them, so it’d be easy to miss this echoing of words, especially since it’s not perfectly verbatim. But this can’t be a coincidence, right? Teen Shauna is terrified by the prospect of not knowing what’s going to happen next. But as an adult, Shauna craves that uncertainty. Her fear has alchemized into desire. The Shaunas express these sentiments in different contexts, and Sophie Nélisse and Melanie Lynskey imbue the words with tonally disparate emotions, but it feels very significant in both moments. What if Shauna’s response to feeling out of control is ultimately to embrace it? To flirt with chaos the way we see her do as an adult? Sometimes the only way to conquer what we’re scared of is to turn it into something pleasurable, as fucked-up as that can sometimes feel. Teen Shauna and Adult Shauna both have talked about feeling fucked-up this season, Adult Shauna in the premiere and Teen Shauna here in “Digestif.”

I do doubt Adult Taissa and Adult Nat would be so trusting of Adult Shauna the way they are in season one if she had been some sadistic ruler in the wilderness, but I also think Shauna is sometimes good at pinning things on others, the way she convinced the group to isolate Jackie from the cabin even though she was the one who had so greatly betrayed Jackie. It’s possible she could have done worse in the woods but been able to scapegoat Lottie or otherwise manipulate those around her. Shauna’s not good at lying, but she does have a tendency to get away with shit. And this moment in the chop shop makes it clear that violence isn’t just a means to an end for her; it’s something that actively excites her.

-Kayla Kumari Upadhyaya in the Autostraddle recap of Yellowjackets 2x03, “Digestif”

[mrworldwideshoulders]

where love finds us || reader x knj

Pairing: reader x KNJ Word count: 5.4k Rating: PG-13+ Genre: established relationship au, fluff (like a lot), (light) angst, the teensiest implied smut for good measure Summary: An evening with your fiancé's parents to celebrate their anniversary has the two of you reflecting on how lucky you both are to be in each other’s life – even if it took a long time for you to get there. Inspired by If I Knew by Bruno Mars. Warnings: discussion of ~feelings~, discussion of pregnancy, cute romantic moments, joon keeps trying to touch reader’s butt (hehe), tongue kissing (bleurgh), reader is a child of divorce and has ~trauma~ A/N: hi! this fic is a giant sticky sweet glob of sap. please forgive me (or don’t) and be sure to check your blood sugar at the end to make sure you haven’t gone into diabetic shock. i know it’s out of order but this is the same couple as the one from the way you look tonight (shameless plug) though both can be read as standalone oneshots if ya want. i freakin love this fic so i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing. beta’d and bannered as always by the amazing april (@onmypillow-onmytable​)! thx! ly - robyn T/N: eomeonim = used when speaking to one’s mother-in-law, specifically on the husband’s side; abeonim = the same thing but for father-in-law. PS. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers lately (eeeeee) – thanks for joining me! if you’d like to be added to any taglists, just ask in the notes or in my dms or the ask me a question thingy :) PPS. I do not own BTS or their likenesses, nor do I own the music of Bruno Mars (lol), they just inspire me.

part of the unorthodox jukebox collection (masterlist)

You check your reflection and fidget nervously while you're waiting for your fiancé to get out of the car, making sure the skirt of your dress is laying the way it's supposed to, that the clasp of your necklace hasn't shifted around to be in the front instead of the back the way necklaces do sometimes, checking in the mirrors to make sure your lipstick hasn't smudged. You were supposed to be here earlier – much earlier – but the festivities are already in full swing, due to the unexpected obstacle of trying (and failing) to drag Namjoon out of the house in a timely manner. His parents' anniversary party has been on the books for weeks. He knows that. It's like everything goes in one ear and out the other these days, no matter how often you swear you've reminded him. It's frustrating, really. Namjoon is practically a genius. He can remember the most obscure bits of trivia to insert randomly into casual conversation and quote long passages of literature verbatim – yet he can never seem to remember where he's supposed to be or when he's supposed to be there. His best friend Jin keeps making cracks about how he’ll probably be so immersed in whatever it is he’s doing beforehand that he’ll end up being late to his own wedding – which would be funny if it weren’t one of your exact fears. Deep breaths, y/n. Deep breaths, you tell yourself, exhaling, envisioning all of your irritation drifting away like dandelion fluff. 

"You almost forgot this." Namjoon hands you a carefully wrapped box as he gets out of the car. He looks you up and down and smiles. Damn that smile. It's almost enough to erase all of the morning's frustrations. "Gosh, you're beautiful. Have I ever told you that?"

"You may have mentioned it a time or two," you say, tilting your head with a sly smile. "You're not so bad yourself." You reach up to straighten his collar. "That’s a nice suit. Dressing to impress?" Your fiancé always looks ten times better in a blazer, as opposed to his more relaxed everyday style, despite him always complaining of being too hot in suits.

He glances down sheepishly. "Ah, you know. Just threw on the first thing in my closet."

"I like it. Did your girlfriend buy it for you?" 

"My fiancée picked it out, actually. Her taste is very discerning.” Namjoon chuckles, giving you a quick flash of that adorable dimple in his left cheek. "She chose me out of all people when she’s so amazing she could have had anyone.” He leans in and drops a kiss on your forehead. "Kind. Intelligent. Great kisser. Too wonderful for words. I can't even hold a candle to her."

“Sappy.” You give his lapel a tug. “Come on. We’re already late.” 

“Hey, it doesn’t matter when you come, you’re never late for a party.” 

“Says the man who’s late to every party.”

The atmosphere inside is lively, filled with party chatter and the sound of music playing from somewhere. “Ah, y/n, Joonie, you’re here!” exclaims Namjoon’s mother, pushing her way through the crowd to wrap you tightly in a hug. “Welcome! It’s about time.”

“We were beginning to wonder,” adds Mr. Kim, “but then we remembered who you were dealing with here.” He pats Namjoon on the shoulder good-naturedly. “Be careful, son, or y/n might decide she’s tired of putting up with you before you’re even married.” 

“I’m…working on it,” mutters Namjoon, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Looking for a way to change the subject, you remember the box you’re holding. “Abeonim, eomeonim, this is for you.” You hold it out to them. “Happy anniversary.” 

Your mother-in-law takes it from you and pulls you into another hug. “Oh, y/n, thank you! How lovely! You shouldn’t have.” She cuts a knowing glance at Namjoon. “Joonie, why did it take you so long to ask this one to marry you? I thought you were supposed to be smart.” 

“I have no idea,” sighs Namjoon. 

“Anyhow, you two enjoy the party,” she continues. “There’ll be toasts later, so stick around.” Your mother-in-law winks and disappears with her husband. 

You peer around at your fiancé's face. He looks a touch dazed. “You okay?”

“Oh…yeah,” he says. “I’m fine. Just wasn’t expecting all that as soon as we walked in. Well…shall we?” Namjoon motions in the general direction of the party.

“Absolutely.” You loop your arm through your fiancé's and look up at him, as the pair of you weave through the mass of party guests. "Do you think they'll like it?”

“Hm?” says Namjoon absently. “Like what?” 

“The present, Joon. The one you handed me not ten minutes ago?”

Realization appears on his face. “Oh, sure. Definitely.”

You poke him in the arm. “You don't even remember what we got them, do you?”

“Of course I do. We got them, that, uh, thing. For the kitchen. It’s a kitchen thing. Right?”

“No.” You sigh. “It’s a vase. For decoration. Namjoon, you were sitting right next to me when I ordered it. And you helped me pick it out. How could you have already forgotten what it was?”

“Because that was like a month ago, and you know I can’t remember anything unless I’m reminded about it a million times? And if it’s remotely breakable, like I know most vases are, you wouldn’t let me anywhere near it anyway.” He leans over to plant a kiss on your cheek, before you can open your mouth to chide him. “They’ll love it, y/n. I know they will. My parents adore you. You could gift-wrap a rock and they’d love it because it’s from you. Me, on the other hand…" Namjoon makes a tsking noise with his tongue. “It'd just be a rock in a poorly-wrapped box if it came from me. You know, I’m getting the feeling they might like their future daughter-in-law better than their own son.” 

“Of course they like you.” You reach up, patting him on the chest. “I mean, how could they not? You’re their pride and joy, Doctor Kim.”

“It’s still just Professor Kim for now,” he corrects you gently, though he looks amused. “I won’t be finished with my dissertation for another year, and I still have to defend it before anyone can call me Doctor.” 

"Even so. You're already Dr. Kim in my eyes." 

He smiles and opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but gets interrupted by another party guest approaching. The interloper is one of Namjoon’s aunts, who can’t stop gushing over the two of you. “You make such an adorable couple, it would have been such a shame if one of you couldn’t make it,” she exclaims warmly, beaming from ear to ear. “When’s the big day again?” 

“Second week of May,” you answer, glancing bashfully at Namjoon, who squeezes your hand and smiles. 

“Oh, not long now! It’ll be here before you know it.” She pats Namjoon’s arm with a knowing smile. “You’d better behave yourself until then, Joonie.” 

The faintest hint of a blush finds its way onto his cheeks. “I always do, Auntie.” 

“Tch! I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Namjoon sighs as she disappears back into the crowd. “What a piece of work.” 

“She’s just happy for us.” 

“I know. Everyone is. Of course I am too. But I haven’t heard the end of it from any of them since they met you. It’s all, ‘don’t let this one get away,’ and ‘behave yourself, Joonie.’ As if they think I’m going to scare you away months before I finally get to marry you.” He leans over, his voice a low whisper in your ear. “If they only knew what we get up to when no one else is around. I wonder if they'd still be telling me to behave myself.”

“We’re in public,” you whisper back, cheeks burning. “Maybe you should listen to them.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” His hand drifts to rest on your ass, giving it a small pinch. “You know I can’t help myself around you. And everyone knows you drive me crazy.” 

Now your ears are burning too. “Well, try.” You gently move his hand and give him a pointed look. “Please? Your parents are right there.” You look pointedly in the direction you last saw them.

“Y/n, they’re not even looking at us. Nobody is. And you can’t seriously think everyone expects us not to touch each other just because—” Namjoon starts, but stops at your slight frown. “All right, fine. I will attempt to contain myself if it bothers you that much.” If you’re not mistaken you’d say he almost looks wounded. “You do realize we will have to kiss each other at the wedding, right? In front of people? We could do a lot worse than a few public displays here and there.”

“Yeah, well, let’s test that theory another time.” Your voice comes out harder than you mean for it to. 

“Okay. Duly noted.” His tone is clipped. “Am I allowed to hold your hand, at least? Or is that off-limits too?”

“If that’s the way you feel about it, then maybe you just shouldn’t hold it at all.” You pull it away, letting out a frustrated huff. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I’m just nervous, that’s all. You know I get uncomfortable around lots of people. Even if they are lots of people who know and love you, because they’re people I haven’t met yet.”

“Yes. I get that.” Namjoon sighs. “But you got so touchy all of a sudden, and when have we ever been shy about that kind of thing?”

“Never,” you murmur. 

“Exactly. I just have to wonder if everything’s okay, that’s all.” He takes both of your hands, his large ones nearly covering yours. “Everything is okay, right? I know I’ve been busy lately. We both have. That’s no excuse, but—” 

“No, everything’s fine.” You shake your head, despite feeling like it’s the opposite. “Forgive me. I don’t know what my problem is today.”

“It’s okay. I worry about you, that’s all.” Namjoon smiles, but it seems a touch forced. “We should make the rounds, yeah? Say hello to everyone?” 

You plaster on a smile to match his. “Yeah. Let's do that.”

His hand stays firmly tucked in his pocket the whole time, except for the few times it brushes against yours, which makes him pull it away as if he’s been shocked. You find yourself missing all of his little touches: a hand on your waist, on the small of your back, your neck, your shoulder. You’d forgotten just how physical he is with his affection, and you’re beginning to wish you hadn’t snapped at him and just let him touch your ass like he wanted, relatives be damned. 

Kyung-min, Namjoon’s sister, eyes the two of you suspiciously the whole time you’re talking to her. “What’s going on with you two?” she demands, mostly addressing Namjoon. “You’re both acting super sketchy. Are you in a fight?” Her gaze turns to you. “Y/n, you can tell me if he’s being a jerk. I can handle him. Seriously.” She glares back at her brother.

“No!” You shoot a glance at him. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine, right, Joon?”

“Right!” He smiles, almost imperceptibly. “Just some…pre-wedding jitters. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” She narrows her eyes. “Sure. Let me know how that works out.”

You sigh softly and watch Namjoon for a moment. He’s watching Kyung-min leave, his one free hand still tucked in his pocket, a drink in the other. You pull gently on his sleeve to get his attention. “Joon, I think I’m going to step outside for a minute. Get some air. It’s a little hot in here.”

“Oh.” His eyebrows lift in surprise. “Uh – do you want me to come with you?”

You shake your head and feign a smile. “No, that’s all right. You stay here. Have fun.”

“Okay, well…I’ll be here.” He raises his glass slightly.

The lanai is deafeningly quiet compared to the clamor inside, giving you a chance to finally sort through your jumbled thoughts. It’s nearly dusk already and you stare distractedly at the sun gradually beginning to sink behind the trees and houses in the distance. “Oh, why did you have to go and snap at him over nothing?” you mutter to yourself. “So what if he touched your ass? You’re about to marry the man. Is this what we do now? Blow up over nothing?” Your hands clench anxiously at the sides of your skirt. Sure, he’s busy. So are you. You could just chalk it all up to the very fact that weddings are just stressful. Exciting – but stressful. But is it really just the stress of planning the wedding that’s getting to you? Or is it something else? We’re happy…aren’t we? Is this how it starts? Does every relationship have the potential to end in anger? Resentment? No matter how happy and well-intentioned things are at the beginning? Am I just doomed to be unlucky in love because of the way I watched my parents’ marriage unravel? You close your eyes tightly and try to calm your breathing the way you did before – deep breaths, in and out – but it doesn’t work this time. 

The sliding glass door opens behind you, and you turn around quickly, startled. It’s Namjoon’s mother, looking puzzled. “Y/n? What are you doing sitting out here by yourself? I would have thought you and Namjoon would be attached at the hip this close to the wedding.” 

“Eomeonim,” you say, standing up. “Hello. I just…needed some air, that’s all.” And some space, from my fiancé, who loves me. Sure.

She sits down on the bench and motions for you to join her. “What’s wrong?” she says. “Are you not enjoying yourself? Do you not feel well? Should I go find Namjoon?” 

“Oh, no.” You wave your hands. “I’m all right. And the party’s lovely. Nothing to bother Namjoon with.” 

“Just between us girls, then. What’s the matter?” She narrows her eyes. “Did Namjoon do something?”

"No!" You shake your head. "Nothing like that. It's just…" You draw in a breath. "I see him every day. I talk to him every day. But I feel like we haven’t really spoken in weeks. He might as well be a million miles away, even though he’s right there in front of me." Your fingers twist together in your lap. "He didn’t even remember we were supposed to be here today until I reminded him an hour before we were supposed to leave. After that I snapped at him over such a small thing that I don't even remember why I was so annoyed with him.” 

“But that’s not all, is it?” she asks.

You shake your head. “I know he’s got a lot on his plate with his paper, and I thought I could handle some of the wedding stuff on my own so he wouldn’t have to worry about it. I didn’t mind that too much. But there were some things I just wanted his input on, small things that wouldn’t take all that much thought, but no matter what I ask him he just says whatever I pick is fine and that he trusts my judgment. So I started to wonder, does he even care? Would he even notice if I didn’t show up? The wedding is two months away and I'm scared that we aren't on the same page anymore, that things have changed – and that maybe we're not meant to be together." Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm being silly. Look at me, making everything about myself.” 

"Oh, y/n. Sweetheart." She pats your hand. "It's not silly. Lots of couples feel this way sometimes, especially right before the wedding. Marriage is a big commitment. It's natural to question whether it's the right thing to do. You love him, right?"

You nod. "More than I've ever loved anyone." 

"And I know for a fact that Namjoon loves you too, even if he's not very good at showing it sometimes. So just talk to him. Clear the air, and tell him how you're feeling. He'll understand. The two of you will work it out, whatever it is." She tucks you into a soft hug. “I should be getting back to the party. Come and join us whenever you’re feeling better, all right?”

You nod and manage a watery smile. “Thank you for listening, eomeonim. And congratulations again. Thirty years – that’s special.”

“Thank you, dear.” She smiles kindly. “It takes two. You’ll get there someday.” 

“Yeah.” You fiddle with your hands, smiling to yourself. “I hope so.” 

You wait a few minutes after she’s gone to compose yourself before you go back inside, weaving through the crowds of people to find your fiancé. He’s easy to spot, lingering by himself near the front corner of the main room, hands tucked deep in the pockets of his jacket. He cuts a handsome figure standing there by himself, staring off into space, with the light of golden hour glowing behind him, and you have to stop for a moment, struck suddenly by how good-looking the man you’re going to marry is, on top of being one of the kindest people you’ve ever known. His face brightens noticeably when he sees you approaching. “There you are.” Namjoon smiles softly. “I was starting to wonder if I should come looking for you.” 

“Oh, Joonie.” You wrap your arms around him in a quick hug, resting your head against his chest. “Just the person I wanted to see.”

“What’s all this?” He sounds surprised but wraps his arms around you anyway. “Is everything okay?” His brown eyes search the insides of yours, crinkling with concern. 

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. I was just wondering…would you take a walk with me? The sun is about to set, and I thought we could find a place to watch it. And talk, while we’re at it.” 

“That sounds nice.” Namjoon takes your hand, twining his long fingers through yours. “Let’s go, then.” He guides you outside to a small walking trail behind his parents’ house that runs along the side of a creek. “I used to come down here all the time when I was a kid,” he says. “Mom would practically have to drag me inside for dinner when the weather was nice.” 

“Aw. I bet you were cute when you were little.” 

“Eh.” He shrugs. “I was. But I’m much cuter now.”

“That’s different.” 

“I’ll just have to show you the pictures, then. Maybe we can get Mom to dig them out later.” Namjoon’s sleeve brushes against your bare arm. He glances down. “Those shoes aren’t hurting your feet, are they?”

“My feet are fine, but thanks for asking. These shoes are actually pretty comfortable.”

“Really? They don’t look comfortable. I’m happy to carry you. Or the shoes. Either one. I don’t mind.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll live. What about you? You're not too hot, are you?”

“Well, I might boil to death, but it’ll be worth the sacrifice, I think, if my fiancée thinks I look nice.”

You manage a smile, but it doesn’t last for long. You take a deep breath and drop your head. “I’m sorry, Joonie. I shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier.”

“Baby, is that still bothering you?” Namjoon turns to you and lifts your head to look at him. “I told you it was okay.”

“Is it really?” You watch his face. “You looked so hurt when I yanked my hand away that I thought—”

“Yes, y/n. I meant what I said. Of course I was hurt, but it's not worth staying mad over. Not to me, anyway.” 

"But…" Your mind goes back to earlier. "You didn't touch me the whole time we were talking to everyone." Your voice almost sounds petulant.

Namjoon laughs suddenly. “I was trying to behave myself, like you asked me to. And do you know how difficult it was for me to keep my hands to myself for that long when the most beautiful woman in the room was standing right next to me the whole time? So difficult. I might actually deserve some kind of compensation for it.” 

“How was I supposed to know that?" you demand. "Since when have you ever listened to me when I tell you not to do something?”

He folds you securely into a hug and rests his chin on your shoulder. “Aw. You missed me, didn't you?”

“Maybe a little,” you say, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“Thank you for apologizing.” He kisses you on the forehead. “But it's not necessary. Consider the whole thing forgotten, okay?” 

“Okay,” you say. “Sorry for being annoying. I was just overthinking, I guess. Being a child of divorce will do that to you.”

“Annoying? No, of course not. No one could possibly find my fiancée annoying.” Namjoon wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you further into his warmth. “Y/n, are you cold? Do you want my jacket?” He sighs. “I should have expected it would still be cool now. I would've reminded you to bring your sweater.” 

“No, Joon, it’s fine,” you start, but he’s sliding out of his blazer and draping it over your shoulders before you can finish talking. It still radiates warmth from his body heat and smells overwhelmingly like him. “You’ll look for any excuse to take your clothes off, won’t you? Or is it just that you like seeing me wearing them?” 

“Can’t it be both?” He grins playfully. “I really was about to boil to death, you know. Seeing you look all small and cute in my jacket is just a plus.”

“I’m so sure, you goofball.” You reach up to cup his chin. 

Namjoon’s face softens and his eyes drop. “I’m sorry, too, by the way.” You look at him quizzically. “If it feels like I haven’t made a lot of time for you lately, then you’re probably right. I haven’t been very present at all, to be honest. We were supposed to be planning this wedding together, but it dawned on me that with the edits on my paper and everything else that’s going on, I let most of the planning fall on you without even asking if you were okay with it. You even asked me if I was going to be okay planning a wedding when I was this far into my thesis, and I swore up and down that it wouldn’t be an issue, but here we are, two months out, and look at that – it’s an issue. You have your own responsibilities outside of the wedding, and it was selfish of me to just expect that you'd take care of it.”

You feel relieved. “How did you know that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about?” 

“I’m just that smart. But also incredibly dumb at times, because I have this very bad habit of taking the people I love for granted. Oh," he adds, "and Kyung-min overheard you talking to Mom and came to yell at me, so I put two and two together and figured it out from there.” 

"That sounds like your sister."

"She even pinched me. Hard. I’d forgotten how painful her pinches are." Namjoon rubs a hand against the top of his head. "I never meant to upset you, y/n. I just get so lost in my own little world sometimes that I forget that it’s not just mine anymore, because you’re a part of it too. It's our world. You and me. So when it happens again – and I know it will – I’m counting on you to pull me back out and keep me grounded in reality. Okay?"

“I will.” You press a soft kiss to his mouth. He leans in to deepen it further, fingers twisting into the hair at the nape of your neck. His lips become more pressing, more insistent, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. Your lips part gently, allowing him in deeper. 

“I’ve missed this," Namjoon sighs between kisses. “I'm going to be happy when life settles down again, you know? Then I can go back to having you all to myself." He looks down at you, his eyes glinting mischievously. “And I can give you all the attention you deserve.”

“Is that so?” you say, as he’s leaving a trail of kisses down the side of your neck. “All the attention?”

“Mhm,” he says, face nearly buried in your shoulder. He pulls away suddenly. “You know, maybe we should just get married already. Are you sure you don't want to just call it all off and elope? Didn’t you say you didn't care how it happened as long as we ended up married at the end?" 

"If I’m remembering correctly, I believe that was you." You smile. "We met at a wedding, remember? It's only right that we give someone else the same opportunity.”

“A wedding reception,” he corrects you. “We barely knew those people, and we didn’t even go to the ceremony. We can always just elope and still have a big party.” 

“It’s only two more months,” you say, pouting slightly. “I’ve already bought the dress and everything. We're too close to call it off now. Can you imagine how disappointed your mother would be if her only son ran off and got married without telling her? She'd never forgive you."

"You can still wear the dress if we elope. And we'll make it up to her by giving her a couple of grandkids to spoil." Namjoon shrugs. "What do you think? The sooner the better, right? We could get started right away if we go ahead and make it official." His hand sneaks toward your ass. 

"I think," you say, catching his rogue hand in yours, "there’ll be plenty of time for that in a year or two, once you finish your dissertation. If I got pregnant, oh, say a month from now—”

“A month?” he protests. “I don’t think it would take me that long to get you pregnant.”

“Hypothetically, Joon.” You poke him in the arm. “Think about it. You’d be signing yourself up for a hormonal pregnant wife during the first half of the school year, and then a screaming baby keeping you awake during the second half. You barely managed planning a wedding. Do you really think you could handle that?”

"Hm, when you put it that way, I guess I can wait a little longer," he muses. "Oh, well. I suppose I just really like the idea of someone that’s a little bit you and a little bit me running around.” 

"Someone that has your eyes and nose? And a sweet little smile with a dimple to match?" you tease.

"Or maybe a little carbon copy of my beautiful wife?" Namjoon bumps his forehead against yours, grinning. "I could get used to that." He stands in silence for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "Whenever we decide the timing’s right…I think you’ll make an amazing mother.” 

“You think so?” You chuckle. “As long as their childhood isn’t anything like mine I’ll be satisfied. I don’t think I ever heard my parents have a conversation that didn’t end in a screaming match.” Your parents did nothing but fight for fifteen years before they got divorced. Your mother, for one, is much happier now that your father is out of the picture, but his seemingly never ending reserve of anger and resentment toward your mother has left you with some pretty deep scars and a fear of commitment that plagued you throughout most of your dating years. Your relationship with your fiancé is the only one that’s ever come close enough to having marriage on the table as a possibility, and it took months of him being patient, slowly working his way past all of the walls you put up for yourself over the years, to even get there. 

“It won’t be,” says Namjoon firmly. “It’ll be different. We’re different. You told me your father changed once they got married, right? I’d never do that to you.”

“Everyone changes, especially once they get married. You don’t think you will?” 

“Well, of course I’ll change.” He tilts his head to one side pensively. “I think everyone does, at least a little. I just hope it’ll be positive change. For example, the way I love you is never going to change, but how much I love you is just going to continue to grow every day.” 

“That’s a nice way of looking at it.” You smile. “I like that. I hope it’s the same for me, too.” 

Namjoon smiles down at you and takes your hand. “What we have is special,” he says. “We’re so lucky to have stumbled across each other when we did. I couldn’t have found a more perfect match in anyone else. We’re made for each other. It’s like…the stars and the planets and the whole universe lined up just for us.”

“You believe we were meant to be?” 

“Exactly. It was destiny. Fate. It was meant to happen exactly the way it happened. If Jin hadn’t dragged me out of my apartment that weekend, and Ji-eun hadn’t tried to set you up with that guy, who knows where we’d be right now?” 

"Probably on another terrible blind date that Ji-eun set up because she swore up and down that this guy is the one and totally perfect for me, and so much better than the last few that she also thought were totally perfect for me."

“And I would probably still be sitting in my apartment buried in papers, with Jin trying to convince me to come out drinking with him again.” Namjoon smiles ruefully and looks down. “Can I say something dumb really quick?” 

“Your ‘something dumb’ will probably still end up being something thoughtful and well-said, so by all means, go ahead.”

He hesitates. “I wish I’d known it was going to happen. That I was going to meet you when I did. I spent so much time thinking about my ex, everything I did wrong with her, what I could have done to keep her from breaking up with me, that I didn't even give a second thought to the fact that there might be someone better out there. Someone…like you." Namjoon tilts his head forward, pressing his forehead against yours. “If I’d known it was going to be you,” he continues, “I guess, I don’t know, I would have tried harder. Worked on myself more. Tried to be better. Something like that." He’s still smiling, but there’s regret in his eyes. 

“Oh, Joon.” You put your hands on both sides of his cheeks. “You know that’s one of the things I love the most about you? But you’ve always been enough for me. Ever since we met. You were enough for me then, you’re enough for me now, and you always will be. I love you, Kim Namjoon, just the way you are. You’re my perfect fit. Always and forever.”

"Thank you." He takes your hands in his and squeezes. "For trusting me. I know you’ve had a lot happen that would scare anyone away from commitment. I know you worry all the time about ending up just like your parents. But you overcame that. You looked past all of my flaws and agreed to spend forever with me. And every day you’re by my side you get even stronger. That’s a huge deal. I’m grateful for that. And I’m so proud of you.” 

“How could I not, when you make it so easy? When you’re so willing and patient with me?” You reach up and press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m excited. To be your wife, to start a family with you, anniversaries, old and gray, the whole deal. I don’t want to be like my parents. I want us to be like yours. I want to build a life together. Something that will last forever.”

“Me too.” Namjoon smiles and hugs you closer. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He kisses the side of your head. “We’re going to make it, y/n. We’re going to go so far together, and I can’t wait. It won’t always be easy, but I’m ready to try.”

“And I’ll be right there next to you.”

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear. “Thank you for saying yes.”

“Thank you for asking,” you whisper back. “It sure took you long enough, didn’t it?”

Namjoon tosses his head back and laughs. “No one’s ever going to let me live that down, are they?”

©2023 by mrworldwideshoulders | full series masterlist | main masterlist

[buggyboba]

so I had this realization, I was scrolling as one does, and like, I'm about to get personal here so there is that. Someone asked a question, I can't recall the question, but there was a moment that I was like "oh, yeah you should absolutely do that because you are a pretty big fanfiction writer, Not me though I couldn't--" Then I stopped and was like. "WAIT I can also absolutely do that too because I am a writer!" Verbatim, I don't recall the exact question now, but it was that moment when I was watching this large content creator and was like 'WAIT I DO THAT TOO." The Imposter syndrome is real, because I dunno, it's not that I feel disconnected, its that I see these other writers and I'm like 'oh wow holy shit!' in an awe kind of way, In the 'I wish I could do that' kinda way, and then have to remember, I absolutely can! I have to remember that these writers have been at it longer than me and have had time to branch out, network, and make friends. They are doing large-scale fics or more popular pairings. I am happy with what I am building, is building the right word? I'm not sure. But I am happy for the people that read my work and like it, I am blessed for the people that send me requests, and I see you, I do, all the regular likers and stuff, I get excited when I get the notification because I'm like "OH YES XYZ SAW IT." I am also almost at 100 followers, which is so wild to me when I started this I wasn't expecting people to like what I wrote, honestly, I assumed I was going to do the one story and fizzle out, now I have a few stories planned and some more drabble length stuff.

I have always been kinda iffy, even when I used to be a role player, when I felt I wasn't doing well enough, or giving what the other person wanted well enough, I got sort of ghosty, and down about it, but like, I am pretty confident in my writing, and confident in myself. Sometimes I just get a case of the bad brain, and it's not jealousy per say, but it is "What are they doing that I'm not?" sort of things. I'm human, I have feelings, and I want to be transparent about them. I don't wanna just be someone who posts stories and vanishes, rinse and repeat.

ANYWAY, all that to say, thank you~ and I am going to continue doing what I am doing. I am going to start posting ask games and stuff like that to offer engagement, and if anyone has any questions or anything feel free to ask.

[sigmaleph]

me, earlier today: make a post about people don't remember exact words from conversations and it's unrealistic to pretend they do

me, like ten minutes ago: quote a line from a book i read once in like 2012, verbatim

[pearlsoftheparticular]

notes on chapter 5

The opening quote (pg 41) by Narayan is from his work "The Guide".

"... tears her into pisces" (pg 41) - This mistake, "pisces" instead of "pieces" comes up multiple times after this. - Fish imagery - Water imagery. Also, if I remember right, the other times that this mistake is made is in Johnny's footnotes or the letters in the back. It is not made in Zampano's text again. Reminds me of pgs 12-16, when Johnny added "Water" to "Water heater" in the manuscript. Does this make the manuscript unreliable, because Johnny has been making edits to it? Should we take typos like "pisces" as Zampano's mistakes and misspellings, or Johnny's?

"Adonta ta Mele" - Her still singing limbs. Translation originates from actual myth. The symbol that follows it is the alchemical symbol for Earth, and is the first of many in this chapter.

"In both cases, unfulfilled love results in the total negation of Echo's body and near negation of her voice." pg 41. But the chapter continues by showing all of the different ways that Echo's voice lives on, in and through other things. Interesting that this is told alongside all of the alchemical symbols, because as stated HERE: "The principle, or underlying, intent of alchemy is then understood as one of making of the body a spirit and of the spirit a body through transmuting the bodily consciousness into spirit and through fixing the spirit in the body." Alchemy and reanimating the dead often go hand in hand, too.

References to Ovid's Metamorphoses - these stories are all about creatures/people/beings in the wrong bodies, being forced into different forms.

Echo quote: the trees/leaves hide a being (pg 42)

The symbol on pg 42 is the astronomical sign for Pluto, the combination of a P and L in honor of Percival Lowell, who published a work called "Memoir on a Trans-Neptunian Planet", after a 10 year search for an as yet unseen planet. (note Neptune, Roman name for Poseidon, more water imagery). Fourteen years after his death, Pluto was discovered.

"To repeat: her voice has life. It possesses a quality not present in the original, revealing how a nymph can return a different and more meaningful story, in spite of telling the same story." (pg 42) - This is followed by a Don Quixote quote in the notes, calling to mind the ref to Dulcinea on pg 17, and the ref to a mother in the quote itself which perhaps brings out Grendel's mother refs again (back to the Mead Hall on pg 21), and foreshadowing to his own. That same note also holds another ref to WWII.

"Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote" is a short story by Jorge Luis Borges. Menard wants to rewrite Cervantes' work by perfectly setting up his life in such a way that the exact same story line and text would come to him naturally, as it did to Cervantes. The fragments that Menard "comes up with" are verbatim to the original text, but he claims they are better, more subtle and inspired, than the original. It was supposed to be satirical, calling out stuck up critics. Funny that Zampano plays along with the joke, acting like Menard really has come up with something original. Though Johnny responds in aggravation, he is doing something similar, as his own living situation and mental state seem to be mirroring Zampano's in the end.

"...or better yet listening to a bitter curse, realizing a whole lot wrong's being ushered into the world but still missing the words,... both written out on brown leaves of paper..." (pg 42)

"This much though I'm sure of: I'm alone in hostile territories with no clue why they're hostile or how to get back to safe havens, an Old Haven, a lost haven, the temperature dropping, the hour heaving & pitching toward a profound darkness, while before me my idiotic amaurotic Guide laughs..." (pg 43) - Heaving & pitching are distinctly marine terms, calling up Rime of the Ancient Mariner again.

Zonules of Zinn (pg 43), otherwise known as ciliary zonules, are the elaborate systems of extra cellular fibers that center the lens of the eyes, bringing distant objects into focus. Named after Johann Gottfried Zinn.

Symbols: first symbol on pg 43 - planetary alchemical symbol for Mars

Second on pg 43 - Planetary alchemical symbol for Mercury

First symbol on pg 44 - Waning moon (pinpoints ebbs and tides, life and death, also known as the sickle of the moon)

Second symbol on pg 44 - Planetary alchemical symbol for Jupiter

Third on pg 44 - Infinity, or Lemniscate, which comes from the Greek word for Ribbons.

Fourth on pg 44 - Planetary alchemical symbol for Omega, symbol for Death, or the End.

"Textual transfiguration" (pg 44)

"Literature's rocky caves" being marked by an omega.

Wordsworth poem ref'd on pg 44 is Ode to Duty.

"He becomes thence... an earthy, weake, worthlesse thing, and fit sacrifize for only eternal oblivion..." (pg 44)

Talaraia (pg 44) - "Of the ankle," referring to Mercury's winged sandals.

Occludes (pg 45): stop, close up, or obstruct (an opening, orifice, or passage).

Pgs 45-46 are spent discussing a typo in a poem: "cares" vs "caves" in relation to Echo.

""I beleive that sky opens & closes on certain periods..." (pg 46, footnote 59. Typo added by editor, not Johnny.

"Ironically, hollowness only increases the eerie quality of otherness inherent in any echo." (pg 46) This brings to mind Heidegger's unheimlich from previous chapter, the "uncanny", which also brings up Uncanny Valley vibes, especially in this context.

"Divinity seems defined by echo." (pg 46)

"...the hallowed always seems to abide in the province of the hollow." (pg 46)

The symbol that appears on pg 47 is the planetary alchemical symbol for the Sun. So, his formula reads:

(Sun) Sound + Time = Acoustic Light

"... his own creature darkness, taking me completely by surprise, a sudden protracting, and just so you understand where I'm coming from, I consider "... long past midnight" one claw and "empty hallways" another. (pg 48)

"Or even an ancient Samuel O'Reilly @ 1891..." (pg 48) Samuel O'Reilly patented the first electric tattoo machine on Dec. 8, 1891.

"Bars of an EKG" (pg 48) - EKG, Electrocardiogram. Records signals from the heart to check for different heart conditions.

"QRS complex" (pg 48) is the combination of 3 of the graphical deflections seen on a typical EKG.

"... The failure which began it all in the first place, probably right after one burning maze but still years ahead of the other loss, a horrible violence, before the coming of that great Whale... Spanish gold..." (pg 48)

"Sleep... that bloody handmaiden..." (pg 49)

Truant: A student who stays away from school without leave or explanation." from Middle English, referring to a person begging through choice rather than necessity. Or, Scottish Gaelic: wretched.

"...confined to the sharp oscillations of yellow and blue..." (pg 49) There is an uptick in color being noted from here through the rest of the chapter. Best guess on this one: Yellow = maize (corn/maze/land) Blue = water (pisces, Neptune, sea)

"Of course, Lude didn't see it. He was blind. Maybe even right." (pg 49) Further proof of Lude being Johnny's Virgil.

The entirety of footnote 62 is a doozy, but not much is written on it. General consensus seems to be that it is all about Johnny's traumas, which is definitely fleshed out in Appendix II-C and the Whalestoe letters later.

"At least the next step was clear.//Some act of violence would be necessary.// And so it was that before another synapse could fire within my bad-off labyrinthine brain, he was already lying on the floor." (pg 52) - Should we take these "visions"as daydreams, or hallucinations?

Colors from 51: Cinnabar: bright red mineral consisting of mercury sulfide. It is the only important ore of mercury and is sometimes used as a pigment.

Lemon.

Celadon: a willow-green

Indigo.

(red, yellow, green, blue, like the keys later on in the chapter).

"...Out of nowhere. Out of the blue." - pg 52

"I love how enthralled she remains by this festival of living." (pg 54)

"...always talking blue streak to my boss..." (pg 54)

"...For this year's ruling April fool." (pg 54) maybe no actual relation but calls to mind the Fool from the Tarot deck, who is seen as the "main character" on a journey of self enlightenment.

"...a goddamn spatial rape." (pg 55) Brings to mind Greek mythology, Zeus, especially Ovid's Metamorphoses.

"Karen is upstairs, sitting on the bed playing with a deck of tarot cards..." (pg. 56) Not so off base with the Fool theory from pg 54 then?

"Karen spent every night of her fourteenth year composing that smile in front of a blue plastic handled mirror." (pg 58) Blue again

Aphonia: loss of ability to speak through disease of or damage to the larynx or mouth.

Pyritic - a brass colored mineral... also called Fool's Gold

pg 58-59 shows Navidson avoiding his and Karen's trauma. Perhaps their avoidance of their traumas and focus on the House simply transfers/gives power to those traumas, and the House reflects that.

"Karen's attacks, which I suspect stem from early adolescent betrayal, increase proportionally with the level of intimacy - or even the threat of potential intimacy - she experiences with Will Navidson or even her children." (pg 59)

"The ensuing tension is more than temporary." (pg 10)

"The bad bodhi wall." From footnote 72 on pg 60 - Bodhi is a fig tree considered sacred in Buddhist practice. Cont. tree imagery. Also, descriptions of the ill will exuding from the walls include the word "oily", which is not the last time in this chapter that word is used.

"Unfortunately, as he twists the last key, the accompanying sound contains a familiar ring. He grips the red kye and tries it again. As the dead bolt glances the strike plate, the resulting click creates an unexpected and very unwelcome echo." (pg 61) - could the typos be related to when the House gains strength, as it defies reason/structure such as proper language?

"Blue seracs" (pg 68) Blue again.

Margaretha Geertruida Zelle. (pg 69)She was a Dutch exotic dancer and courtesan who was convicted of being a spy for Germany during WWI and executed by firing squad in France. Her name has become synonymous of the seductive female spy. Also went by Mata Hari.

Moither: (Yorkshire) bother or harass (UK) toil, labour, perplex, confuse. (70)

Black and purple (pg 70). Reference back to pg 26, list of colors includes lilac, mauve (purples), and pelican black (pelicans will come significant later), in addition to rootbeer (will come significant later), midnight blue, south sea green, maize (yellow), and cochineal (red)

"Dis(as)embling...." (pg 71) Odd phrasing.

"What wail embattled break." (pg 71) - Whale.

"Another Maldon or no Maldon at all" - The Battle of Maldon in Essex, in 991 AD

"... The already foreseen dissolution of the self." (pg 72) - Reference to his mother?

"My face has been splattered with purple... preserving me." (pg 72)

"...in the spirit of the dark; in the spirit of the staircase - "Known some call is air am." Which is to say - "I am not what I used to be." (pg 72)

We have hit a significant moment. The monster from the story seemed able to physically mar Johnny in the present. He has seemingly changed moving into the future. And we are invited now into his past.

"...Daisy, wearing a red and gold dress, barges in and begins tugging on her father's sleeve." (pg 73) Red and Gold significance?

Neologism: newly coined word or expression.

Selah.

[livixbobbiex]

I posted 99 times in 2022

That's 75 more posts than 2021!

20 posts created (20%)

79 posts reblogged (80%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@somecunttookmyurl

@kingburu

@kazliin

@kittmoon

I tagged 20 of my posts in 2022

#actually adhd - 8 posts

#adhd - 8 posts

#neurodiversity - 6 posts

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#totk - 2 posts

#politics - 2 posts

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Longest Tag: 78 characters

#personally i think the best approach is to stop using neurodivergent so often?

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

It's finally time for the Hyrule water theory

So this comes from an observation I made during last year's trailer

If you're anything like me and cheesed the dungeon with Zora armour, you'll remember there's a LOT of water around this castle. In fact, you can kind of see it a bit in the trailer before the entire thing gets lifted out of the air.

See the full post

437 notes - Posted September 13, 2022

#4

People who critique fanfiction lines such as "she let out the breath she didn't know she was holding" clearly aren't ADHD because that's the daily experience chief.

534 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

#3

The other side of ADHD

So one thing I don't see people talk about as much is the other side of focus issues. Like, I kind of hate that it's even called Attention Deficit because I don't think it's fully accurate. It's more like, attention meter gone haywire.

The best way to describe it is like a roleplay video game stat. Imagine the average neurotypical person has focus values in the range of about 4-6 points. For me, at random, my stats will flick between like 2 and 8. Sometimes in the space of hours.

In real terms, this results in:

Hyperfocus where I can write a 3000 word essay in one sitting; no breaks, no moving

Revolving fixations, never lost just reignited when I remember them. What follows is days of intense obsession

Being actively early for everything because of waiting mode

In the right conditions, crazy fast comprehension and reaction speeds

Tuning into other people's conversations in crowded spaces

At times, hypersensivity. Especially when it comes to hearing and smell

Ability to remember really random events in almost photographic detail. Like, sometimes I will have an easier time remembering some really mundane conversation from 3 years ago verbatim than what i did literally that morning

Same goes for random trivia. I still know the exact date the war of the roses ended, have since I was 9. I'm especially good with song lyrics

Don't get me wrong, I still struggle a lot and the lacking focus is more common. The frustrating part is that I have no control over when I'm able to do these things (aside from hyperfocus, I can kind of induce that - maybe I'll make a post about that) so it's rarely actually useful.

But yeah, I feel like it's a less spoken about portion of ADHD, closest it gets to the 'superpower' thing honestly.

I'll also note that, I'm personally unsure, but it might be that this isn't applicable to inattentive presentation ADHD. Would be curious to hear from y'all. I'm combined presentation but to me it seems more like it comes from the hyper side.

573 notes - Posted June 9, 2022

#2

I love how much we're all talking about neurodivergence here and all but let's all remember that neurodivergent is not ADHD/Autism only.

I've seen a lot of people using those expressions interchangeably and, whilst those are the most common conditions, neurodivergent is a wider label than that.

1,199 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

12 ADHD hacks that are actually helpful

Record EVERYTHING in your phone's calendar app the moment you find out about it. Mine gives me an alarm automatically before the calendar time - has saved my ass many times.

Get a little bowl or equivalent for objects like keys. That's now your key bowl. You will not lose them ever again.

Write down deadlines as early before they're actually due as you can justify. My ADHD ass never remembers the actual due date. I get all of the stress fuelled productivity with none of the actual danger.

Handwrite notes. I have no idea why, but the process of pen and paper makes me remember things much better.

If you have to be somewhere like class or work, set aside time to go for a walk first. Honestly would be great all days, but I can't even make myself do this, so it's good if you have to be out anyway (and maybe would have been in waiting mode). Burning off energy helps my brain.

When retrieving laundry (ie its dry and you have to fold it), dump it all out in the most inconvenient place possible. I like the bed. It forces me to deal with it, rather than letting it sit there.

Turn on subtitles when you watch anything - even YouTube and live TV. I didn't realise how lifechanging this was until last year.

The Breath of the Wild soundtrack is weirdly the best background music ever. It's the perfect level of stimulating without distracting

Use text to speech for long walls of text. It's great.

Did I mention phone alarms? I use it for everything - ie when I know I might hyperfocus on something for too long.

There's literally no obligation to eat 3 meals at set times. If eating snacks throughout the day works better for you, then do that. There's also no shame in things like pre chopped fruit/veggies.

I struggle with transitions sometimes. A way around this is keeping a ton of water next to me. When I get frustrated about being stuck, I just drink as much water as I can. Eventually, this means I have to pee, and physically cannot ignore it. The act of going to the bathroom is sometimes enough to change activity.

Disclaimer that this is my own experience with ADHD, which may be totally different to someone else's. But hey, these are some things I've always found useful.

EDIT because this has a lot of reblogs wow! Please feel free to share even if you're a different type of neurodiverse, or even straight up neurotypical. At the end of the day most of these are focus/executive dysfunction tips, and I'm glad they're useful no matter what your situation is!

6,741 notes - Posted May 21, 2022

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