#I feel like I shouldn't have drawn Mind as fully human for this but as a warm-up I did whatever

[factual-fantasy]

16 Asks! thank you!! :}} 🦦

@psype

If we're going with the order I got them in the games.. then yes! I imagine that the team started out with Midori meeting Gloria and it built up from there :))

Though I wonder.. I feel like Gloria and Midori are both the shy and quiet type.. perhaps it could be that Bonnie, being a social butterfly, was the one that started and even grew the group? :00

@sussyhahag

THANK YOU! I ACCPT THE C H E S E :))))

Thank you!! And yeah, poor Emmet <XDD

@shiny-tinkaton135

Is that skibidi toilet???

I will never be the same after having read and imagined this

HHURRGENNN THANK YOUUUU 😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️

@pokeartxilla

Oh hey! Well you know what they say, great minds think alike! XDD

@littlelightfish

XDD Okay, I'll tell him-- wait are you good what you mean the horrors--

@candyglumboy

They have not.. :((( If I knew more about that Pokémon I would have drawn an interaction.. <XD

@beryl-shade

I have not :(( though after googling it, it does look like something I'd like 👀👀

(I cannot remember what post this ask is referring to :(( Sorry! Maybe to was this one..?)

What I got from that is that Gengars ground pound to show affection XDD I love it!!

😭😭IT MAKES SENSE TO ME!! THANK YOU SO MUCHHH!!! :}}}

@wolfwraithartz

:DDD Thank you so much! And I totally encourage it! I've been having a blast drawing mine, maybe you'll have fun with yours! :))

Nah.. <:/ sorry!

(Post in question)

SOBBINGGGG THATS SO SADDDDDD 😭😭💔💔💔💔

@neo-metalscottic (So many Joltiks post)

My day is going well, thank you! I hope you can say the same! :)) And thank you! I'm glad you've been enjoying my submas stuff! :}}

Hmm.. now that I think about it, Anastasias shiny status would probably cause a lot of problems for her. Since she isn't her natural colors, its probably harder for her to blend in like normal Kricketot do.

Being that bright shiny gold color would make her stand out like a sore thumb, so running and hiding from poachers/shiny hunters proobably wouldn't work.. I can see the group running into shiny hunters and having to stand their ground.

Thankfully the team are all pretty tough and are decently diverse in their typing. So that shouldn't be too hard for them..

As for pokeballs and humans.. that's a good question. I STILL haven't fully decided if my team has a trainer or not. I'm kiiiind'a going off of the theme that they're all wild..? But even so, I'd like to think the team doesn't have a bad view of humans and caught pokemon-

I can imagine the team, mostly Gloria- understands that not all humans are bad. They've seen the bonds that Pokémon share with humans and understand that they just happen to encounter the uh.. unpleasant humans.

I'd also like to think that if a Pokémon wants to be with a human, they probably aren't bothered by pokeballs too much. They probably see it as an odd tool that helps humans and their partners stay together.

Of course though, knowing all that they still get the bad end of the stick with both.. humans usually are loud and aggressive. Trying to catch the pretty Gardevoir or shiny kricketot.. its a mixed bag <XD

#my response #pokemon scarlet and violet #submas #ingo and emmet #elesa pokemon

[torithehoshi]

Did a warmup doodle earlier based off of this post since the screenshot made me think ". Yeah Heart would say this."

#Tori's Doodles of Mellarky #CCCC Fanart #CCCC #Chonny Jash #Chonny's Charming Chaos Compendium #CJ Heart #CJ Mind #Shitpost #I guess #Gun tw #I feel like I shouldn't have drawn Mind as fully human for this but as a warm-up I did whatever #That's also why Heart has that outfit I made up - because I like it #Also yes I installed the exact font you think I did to use on CSP. I have reasons why ^_^ #Also yes! I CAN write short descriptions! I can just put all my ramblings in the tag #I'm still thinking about when I think certain events happened in my interpretation #However I am getting thoughts related to Mind. At this point all of mine are just. Abstract and vague.

[thisdoesntfeelfunny]

everything could stay the same or we could change it all

(Carlos Sainz Jr./Max Verstappen, 2.1k, rated T, 1/1)

(Tooth-Rotting Fluff, the fluffiest of all the fluffy things that have ever entered my brain, Morning Cuddles, rated T because swearing just happens to me I don't control it)

Summary:

The best mornings are slow. Even when they probably shouldn't be.

Read it on Ao3 or below. :))

(made possible by the loveliest of beta readers @leversainz)

(I hope you enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts! :3)

------------------

Max comes to slowly at first.

His mind takes its due time to tether back to reality and enter a state that can be considered awake – making several detours through barely-there thoughts and dream-like visions.

There is sunshine falling on his face, warm and welcoming. Max is not yet conscious enough for the rays to register as bright, so he relishes in the warmth until the comfortable blank of his vision becomes more and more orange, threatening to tip him too far into wakefulness.

Languidly stretching, he turns around and away from the light, not tuning into the waking world enough to open his eyes. Crisis averted.

The other side registers as less bright, but not lacking any of the warmth previously supplied by the morning sun. Max smiles at this almost-thought, as he burrows his head into the chest of his own personal burning star. Intending to bask in the provided body heat for at least another hour, he wraps himself around his human ray of sunshine, feeling arms envelope him in turn and almost slips back into full unconsciousness.

However all the movement and bursts of nearly-thinking have seemingly set something in motion within Max’s brain, as he realises two things in quick succession.

One, he should be alone. There should not be another person here. Least of all the one that he is currently wrapped around. And two, all windows in his room are facing west.

Max comes to with a start then.

Memories of the night before flood his mind - sitting in his room, texting Carlos, complaining about being alone (Carlos), tempting (also Carlos), throwing all caution to the wind and sneaking out in the middle of the night (Max), yada yada yada (both of them).

Max should not be here. He is not where he is supposed to be. He needs to get back to his room now or Victoria is going to have him hung, drawn and quartered by noon. Shit.

He must look wild, eyes thrown wide open and darting across the room, quickly scanning his surroundings for any indication of the time. Carlos’ chest, that Max is still very much pressed against, rumbles with barely contained laughter. “Relax cariño, it is still early.”

Not even slightly soothed by that, Max tries to disentangle himself from the embrace, to catch a glimpse at the alarm clock on the nightstand. But the more he struggles, the tighter the hold on him becomes. Still not quite awake enough for words, Max lets out a protesting whine. Carlos only chuckles. Asshole.

“Calm down, mi vida. No one is even up yet.”, Carlos tries again. This time the reassurance is paired with feather-light kisses to the top of Max’s head and all over his face. “And besides, I would’ve woken you on time. Can’t have you start such an important day by panicking, no?” He places one last kiss to Max’s brow, giving him a look that makes any objection pointless. So Max sighs and lets himself sink back fully into the strong arms wrapped around him.

Closing his eyes and focusing on Carlos’ hands running up and down his back, he tries to channel the serenity that had enveloped him just a few minutes ago. Carlos says they have time, so he is going to use it.

But, turns out, being shocked awake kind of prevents one from fully relaxing back into blissful unawareness so soon. Like someone flipped a switch, Max’s mind is suddenly full of thoughts. Less severe realisations bouncing around freely, keeping him awake and stacking up nervous energy. After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying not to think about the day ahead, he caves and takes a deep breath – preparing himself for the real world, plans and responsibilities. Okay, next try.

He squints up at Carlos, knowing it makes him look slightly sleep-addled and cute (not Max’s words). “Would you at least tell me what time it actually is?”, Max pleads, “Are you sure no one is awake and scheming our murder right now?” He adds a pained yet sweet smile (he hopes) to complete the package, but only gets an amused look and a raised eyebrow in return. So time for the big guns.

Max stretches to look directly into warm, chocolate brown eyes, blinking slowly. “Schatje”, he almost-whispers, “you know I trust your judgement on the schedule.” Another blink. “And if it was up to me I’d say screw everything and stay in bed with you until the actual ceremony.” Leaning closer, Max presses a barely-there kiss to Carlos’ lips, savouring the way they’re chasing after him when he pulls away slowly. He sighs. “But I also don’t want to give Vicky any tangible excuse to kill me on my wedding day. And being caught in your hotel room on said wedding day, when we were explicitly asked to stay apart, does place very high on the list of things she considers such reasons.”

Max can anticipate the protest from the way Carlos’ arms tighten around him once more and the groan he feels more than hears.

“But all of this is such outdated superstition!” Here it comes.

Carlos is, by all means, not someone who whines. He really isn’t. This is a close call though. If he wasn’t holding Max so tightly, the Dutchman is sure, he would even throw his hands up for emphasis.They’ve been through this before.

“No one except your sister actually believes in it. I certainly don’t and you don’t either.” Carlos rolls onto his back, letting his head fall onto the pillow with a thump. Max follows the movement and settles with his arms crossed on Carlos’ chest, head resting on them. The Spaniard takes a deep breath and meets Max’s eyes. His gaze looks slightly desperate. Huh, this is new.

“I thought I could do this. For you. Because I love you and I know how important your sister is to you. But it is different now that the day is actually here.” Carlos takes another breath, like he is steeling himself for something. “We already have to sneak around all the time, so I refuse to be pressured into doing so, on the one day that we shouldn’t need to. We are getting married for fucks sake. That should mean something. That is supposed to stop all the hiding, all the secrecy.” Carlos now sounds as desperate as he looks and Max is getting slightly worried. Neither of them had been thrilled when Victoria had proposed (read: demanded) they stick to the ‘tradition’ of not seeing each other the night before the wedding, agreeing only to appease her. However, this is an entirely different tone. This is a big deal.

Why has this not come up sooner? They’ve been together for so many years, but with both of them still active in F1 and the sport being what it is, actually coming out has so far been shelved for after they retire. All the people that really matter know anyway. And even though they both regularly voice their frustrations over certain details, they know the only real solution remains one neither of them wants to consider yet. Or is Carlos considering it? Is that what this is about? Does he want to retire? Max tenses. Carlos continues.

“We shouldn’t have to worry about being seen coming out of each other’s hotel room today. We already have that enough during the season. I hate it then and I hate it now. We shouldn’t have to worry about not being seen in the hallway of a hotel, that is entirely booked with guests for our wedding. Why do we even have two rooms? That is such a waste of money and space for such a bullshit superstition.” Carlos huffs, slightly out of breath and Max uses the opportunity to pull him into a deeper kiss. Both to placate Carlos and to calm himself down. He knows they need to have a proper conversation about this. But for what it’s worth, Max thinks that can wait until after they are properly married. It’s only the beginning of summer break. If they choose to, they’ve got enough time to make a real plan for going public or find a way to make the situation more bearable in the future. Today is not about that though. Today is about them and their love, no matter who knows about it. And Max is going to make sure that all the work they put in, to make this whole thing as private and relaxing as possible, is not going to waste. Let’s fix this.

“You’re right.”, he says firmly, when they break apart for long enough to get a word in, “We are getting married and that means something. It means that for once, we call all the shots. No more hiding. No more sneaking.” He smiles brightly at Carlos, who seems to relax more with every word and starts to smile back. Good.

Max sighs again. “I know my sister can be overbearing, but she means well. It’s just that she’s not big on taking risks when it comes to relationships and apparently that includes superstition.” He shrugs. “Anyway, I am very glad I let you tempt me into not spending the night apart.” Max leans in, locking their gazes and whispers: “Because we are getting married today and I could not imagine a better start to married life than waking up next to you, Liefje.” He means to emphasize his point with a small peck, barely long enough to register, but Carlos catches him and they get lost in each other for a while.

“I love you.”, Max breathes against Carlos’ lips when they pull apart. The smile he gets back is almost blinding. “I love you too, mi vida. And today I am going to make sure everyone we meet knows it.” For a moment Max lets himself bask in that and the vision of it maybe becoming the norm someday, before he leans closer again and winks at Carlos conspiratorially. “That sounds lovely. Let’s do that. Of course, I am also going to need you as my personal security against Vicky.”, he says. Carlos rolls his eyes, but Max continues undeterred. “Though I am not going to sneak around, I am also not strong enough to face her wrath. She is my little sister, sure, and this is technically our wedding, but you know as well as I do, that flew out of her head, the moment I made her my maid of honour.” His weak attempt at a joke draws a small chuckle from Carlos.“I would never let anything happen to you, mi amor. You are safe with me, do not worry.”, Carlos grins at Max, who mimics swooning into his arms, “My knight in shining armour.” They both giggle. Better.

There’s little conversation after that, the two of them just lying together, basking in the morning sunlight and the comfortable silence that envelopes the room.

This is probably going to be the last real silence of the day, Max realises. Contentment and excitement are mixing in his gut, forming a cocktail that makes his head spin a little. He doesn’t want this to end. Ever. Never wants to leave this room, this little cocoon of happiness, that they always seem to be able to build. No matter where they are.

But at the same time he can’t wait to get married. Can’t wait to walk down the aisle with his soulmate. Can’t wait to make everything official. Not that 8 years of a dedicated relationship and shared real estate are not official, but there is a small possessive side of him, that puts some more weight into getting to call his boyfriend of 8 years his husband. Husband. Yeah that sounds about right.

Another realisation makes Max perk up. “About the rooms. You know we are paying for the whole hotel, even though not all the rooms are booked. So technically, we are just properly using the otherwise wasted space. This is actively making us waste less money, you see.”, he says. With the words out of his mouth, he’s briefly afraid it’s going to ruin the mood again. But Carlos doesn’t seem to think so, as he just starts laughing loudly. And Max is a weak, weak man when it comes to that laugh, so although he doesn’t really see the joke, he has no choice but to join in.

They have just come down a bit, when Carlos clears his throat. “So, seeing as we don’t like wasting money, maybe we should use up some of the other empty rooms tonight?”, he proposes, scratching his chin like he is trying to solve a very difficult problem. Max emphatically nods. “To keep the wasted money to a minimum of course.”, he agrees.

They burst out laughing again. The best.

#versainz #versainz fanfic #versainz fanfiction #versainz fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 rpf fic #f1 rpf #formula 1 rpf #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #carlos sainz fanfic #max verstappen fanfic #mia screams into the void but in a different direction #mia throws writing into the void

[yanderes-galore]

You don’t even know how hype I am to see DAI on the request list. Would you be willing to do a romantic/platonic Cole concept? Having a yandere who can pretty much read your mind and manipulate your emotions would be so freaky (or it would be if you even knew he was doing it.)

- 📸 anon

Sure! Sorry this took so long, I hope you enjoy this :) Not proofread fully, may have mistakes.

Yandere! Cole Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Delusional behavior, Clingy behavior, Manipulation, Murder mention, Dubious companionship/relationship.

Cole is another interesting case.

He was once originally a Spirit of Compassion, someone who just wants to help.

This need to help may be a factor that plays into his obsession.

He is obsessive about the idea of helping his darling, feeling deep down they need him in someway.

He never wants to make them forget him.

Cole can be a very caring yandere.

He's compassionate and always ends up following you around.

He genuinely just wants to help care for you and make you happy.

So compared to most... he is a very soft yandere.

He feels he has your best interests at heart.

After all, he just wants to help!

Others who know Cole can tell he adores you.

The way he allows you to remember him, the way he follows you around, he's attached.

Cole always seems to know how you're feeling, he can sense it.

He is also manipulative, but doesn't intend to be all the time.

Cole naturally would be drawn towards an obsession who is going through some sort of painful event.

Trauma, physical pain, near death experience, etc.

Ever since then he's just seemed to stick around.

He reads your mind and emotions often, always intrigued and curious to know how you feel.

Cole could manipulate your mind if he didn't like you doing something too.

Yet he tries not to do it often.

Cole is so sweet with you.

Sometimes he's a bit odd but he feels protective of you.

He considers you a friend, only ever considering you more if he decides to be more human.

He feels rather "innocent" with his intentions.

He prioritizes your happiness and just wants to see you without pain.

He'll do anything to achieve that.

If he accidentally hurts you, he'll make you forget.

Actually, if any hurt comes to you he'll make you forget it ever happened.

All for your own good... all to keep you from being hurt.

Then there's a point his obsession turns devious.

Others may notice Cole is a bit too overprotective and obsessive with you.

They may try to warn you.

But that's okay! Cole will make them and you forget.

If that doesn't work... he'll kill them.

Cole is a yandere who feels he's doing the right thing for his darling.

"The right thing" often includes making you forget certain memories, murder, manipulation, and smothering affection.

Cole loves to see you smile, it means there is no pain.

Pain is a bad thing... he knows that.

He'll do anything to prevent you from being in pain.

Your friends just want to separate you two!

They don't have the same care and compassion Cole feels for you.

Cole loves you in his own way due to his nature.

Why do you cry?

You shouldn't cry while he's here... holding your face with a soft gaze in his eyes.

The issue with Cole is he's... delusional.

He thinks messing with your mind and emotions is going to help you.

He feels you're the happiest with him.

Just rant to him or be vulnerable with him... he'll take care of you.

Others just wish to harm you in his eyes...

Others will just cause you pain...

Cole would do whatever he can to prevent you from feeling pain.

Isolation, affection, etc...

Mercy killing.

Yup, if Cole was cornered or if someone threatened to take you away from him... he'll spare you from pain.

If he can't have you, no one can.

Afterwards, Cole plans to join you in the Fade.

He can keep you happy as a spirit, right?

You may be upset... but he'll help you like he always has.

Killing you may also be helping you in his eyes.

Hopefully Cole won't have to do such a thing.

If he tries hard enough... he doesn't have to do anything like that.

Yet... Cole will do whatever he can to help you since he loves you...

Even go to the extreme.

#yandere dragon age #yandere dragon age inquisition #yandere cole #yandere dai cole #yandere dragon age cole

[casspurrjoybell-18]

Worthless - Chapter 10

*Warning Adult Content*

Asher

My fur rustled in the cool night air as I padded through the woods.

I felt someone probe at the edge of my mind while I walked but quickly closed myself off.

The momentary silence was replaced with the sounds of the forest as it's nocturnal creatures moved about, just as I liked it.

There was no one but me and mother nature.

I had slipped away before the others could notice.

Well, besides Riley and Fallon who I told the moment I began to smell food.

Those two knew why I wanted to hunt rather than be with everyone.

The others wouldn't but they would probably find out.

Part of me felt guilty but I didn't want their pity.

I couldn't eat their human food, wouldn't allow myself to and I defiantly didn't want the awkward silence to drape over the room when they realize that something was wrong with me.

The other two were fine, they weren't defective like I was and I didn't sense any ill intentions from the pack.

Though I could not bring myself to fully trust them, I knew Riley and Fallon could.

They would benefit from staying and I would do anything for them, even keeping to the shadows, protecting from a distance like I always have.

Cold and detached so that they wouldn't come to more harm because I cared for them. 

Clearing my mind, I focused on what I came out here to do, hunt.

Over the years I had become a proficient hunter, easily finding and stalking my prey until the inevitable kill.

Though I took pride in my skills, I did not relish in the act of killing.

I did what I needed to do to survive, I didn't like needless violence.

I was exposed to it enough in life, I stood still, the scent of rabbit drifting to me.

It was fresh, it surprised me that a rabbit was out at night.

I allowed my senses to guide me, my paws silent as I made my way through the woods.

The scent got stronger the further I went and in no time I spotted the fluffy creature.

I watched as it periodically stood up, nervously looking around before going back to scavenging for food.

'Even you realize that you shouldn't be out here.'

I gave a silent sigh, resigned to what needed to be done.

I struck, my jaws closing around the helpless creature's neck, delivering an instant death before it had any time to react.

I sent a word of thanks before leaning down to devour the rabbit.

Long after I had finished the rabbit I still sat there, watching the stars, listening to the forest and all its inhabitants.

The taste of its blood was still in my mouth, my taste buds enjoying it each time I ran my tongue along the back of my teeth.

I did not know how much time passed as I gazed at the stars but I was content just sitting there.

My attention was drawn to the snap of a twig behind me.

I knew who it was, I sensed him approach long before I could hear him.

I turned my head, looking at the man who stirred things inside me that I could not name.

His eyes shined in the dark and his face showed that he was nervous but it also showed relief, he smiled as he caught sight of me.

"I'm so glad I found you," he whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear.

'I wouldn't have left.'

He let lose a sigh, moving towards me.

"They said you wouldn't. I was just over thinking things."

He ran his hand through his hair as he sat down, not looking at me.

Instead, he chose to gaze at the stars.

I took this time to study him, he was what one would call handsome I suppose.

'I'm sure he had many lusting after him,' the thought made my chest hurt for some reason.

I barely knew him, h barely knew me, so why was he worried?

I was no one and meant nothing.

'I was worthless.'

"You are not worthless. I don't want to hear you say that ever again."

His eyes were aflame, piercing into my soul.

I hadn't realized I took down the wall in my mind, allowing him to hear those thoughts.

It made me feel vulnerable yet because it was him, safe and the fact that he was angry was heartwarming in a terrifying way.

I looked at him, confusion in my eyes, so many things were unclear.

I had no idea what I should do or what to feel. I was afraid of what was to come.

What he brought, what the pack brought, made me question everything I thought I knew, they made me have hope, as small as it was.

Hope that I could start anew, that I could have a family, that I could be loved and I think that scared me the most.

His gaze softened and he reached his hand up slowly, giving me time to move if I wanted.

I shuddered as his hand connected with my pelt, the feeling of fingers running through my fur sending waves of pleasure through me.

I found myself leaning into his touch, causing him to chuckle.

My eyes narrowed at him in annoyance but I didn't pull away.

We sat there for a long time, sometimes musing about life in the pack.

He told me of his life growing up surrounded by everyone, not once asking me to give my own story for which I was grateful.

The whole time he never removed his hand, continuing to run it down my body.

I was close to dozing off when he suddenly asked a question, catching me off guard.

"Would you like to stay with me? I-I mean, like, sleep with me... er, sleep in my room with me and... I..." he took a deep breath before looking me straight in the eye.

"I want to be by your side Asher and I'll never betray or hurt you. I don't think I could. To be honest it would probably kill me because I lo... I like you more than you will ever know."

I stared, wide eyed, as his face turned a deep red before he looked away, fidgeting.

He wanted to be with me and he liked me, I don't even know how that's possible.

My mind went into overdrive as what he said sank in, if he was serious then, I don't know.

'Can I even trust what he said? What if this is all a game? '

I mean, I've only known him for a day... no... I could trust him.

My mind might scream no but I felt in my very soul that he meant what he said and I couldn't deny that it made me happy.

Minutes past as I thought about what Kade said, about how I would answer.

Though I continued to study him, Kade wouldn't look my way.

I could tell he was nervous, my answer meant a lot to him, I don't know why.

Though doubts still plagued my mind, even I could tell he genuinely felt this way.

So before I could convince myself otherwise, I gave him my answer.

'Yes, I will stay with you Kade.'

The joy that radiated off his face could have powered every solar panel on Earth.

He pulled me into a hug.

"I'm so glad you agreed."

Soon after that we slowly made our way back to the pack house.

I could feel the happiness that rolled off Kade the whole walk.

At first, it worried me that such a thing could make him that happy but I soon accepted it.

I had a feeling that he would continue to get happy over little things in the future.

As we entered the house Kade motioned to be silent, explaining that everyone had already gone to bed hours ago and lead me up stairs.

We went down the left hallway until reaching the second door on the right.

"Welcome to my... our room..." Kade whispered before pushing the door opened.

The room was simple but cozy and as I cautiously entered, I noticed two closed doors.

The walls were an olive color which I liked.

There were a few pieces of furniture: a bed, a dresser and two nightstands that were the same color as the floor.

Nothing was cluttered or laying about.

But my favorite thing would have to be that Kade's scent was everywhere.

"I'm glad you like it."

I turned to see him wearing a smirk but there was something in his eyes, something that made my heart race.

Even as he closed the door, we didn't break eye contact.

He kneeled before me, bringing his hand up to stroke my head.

"God you're so beautiful... I wonder what your other form looks like..." he said it so quietly that I wasn't sure I heard him but the very thought of shifting made me tense, causing his hand to stop.

"Shh shh. I didn't mean it that way," he quickly whispered in a soothing voice.

"I'd accept it if you never shifted. I won't ever force you. As long as your happy then I'm happy."

When I calmed down, he picked me up and set me down on his king sized bed.

I froze as he settled beside me but he paid no mind, continuing to run his fingers down my body.

He began to hum, lulling me into a relaxed state.

The last thing I heard before sleep overcame me was Kade whispering something about mates but I was too tired to understand.

[a-flickering-soul]

EverymanHYBRID And Deer In Media: In Five Parts (click for individual comparisons)

Deer are both a symbol of fragile purity and the untamable wild–here, we examine deer in the context of man, where deer come to represent the urge within us to abandon the conscious ego for the subconscious id. The deer is a symbol, too, of rebirth, of transformation, of shedding and regrowing its weapons each year. To kill, to be reborn, to choose to be monstrous through our proximity to humanity. Is there not something pure in surrendering to animal instinct? If deer are the twin themes of innocence and wildness, then we in turn are the juxtaposition of humanity and monstrousness–our actions made monstrous by the attempt to temper them with humanity.

(transcript, analysis, and sources below cut)

1: The Secret History & EverymanHYBRID--Bodies

The Secret History, on the killing of a man in a hallucinatory bacchanal:

"'Henry,' I said at last. 'Good God.' "He raised an eyebrow. 'Really, it was more upsetting than you can realize,' he said. 'Once I hit a deer with my car. It was a beautiful creature and to see it struggling, blood everywhere, legs broken ... And this was even more distressing but at least I thought it was over. I never dreamed we'd hear anything else about it.'"

EverymanHYBRID, "Ryan and the SEVENTRIALSOFHABIT":

A shot of a deer's dead body at the side of the road at night, looking crumpled and not quite right. The captions read: "Jeff: It's a fucking deer, dude. (Evan: See it?) Yeah. Something cut its belly open. (Evan: It cut its belly open the wrong way.)"

Parallels drawn:

Consider this one an amuse-bouche. Henry draws comparisons between a man he killed to a deer he accidentally hit with a car, mildly naming the incident ‘distressing’. There is a lack of human empathy, of guilt over killing a fellow man. In comparison, Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie at this point in the EMH plotline have not yet become hunter or hunted–they have not yet been warped by their roles in this iteration and can acknowledge the upsetting nature of the events that befall them. Henry has tasted that amoral nature and is less human for it, more visibly willing to shed that veneer of attempting to care about other people. Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie have not yet reached that point.

2: “Whoso List to Hunt”, EverymanHYBRID, and The Secret History--The Chase

"Whoso List to Hunt", on hunting a fabled white hind:

"I am of them that farthest cometh behind./ Yet may I by no means my wearied mind/ Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore/ Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,/ Sithens in a net I seek to hold the wind./ Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,/ As well as I may spend his time in vain. And graven with diamonds in letters plain/ There is written, her fair neck round about:/ Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,/ and wild to hold, though I seem tame."

EverymanHYBRID, "Slushpops and Surprises”

A shot of white text on a black page, "[Enter the tragic hero and his unattainable companion.]"

The Secret History, on hallucinations experienced during the bacchanal (bold for emphasis):

“‘Camilla said that during part of it, she’d believed she was a deer; and that was odd, too, because the rest of us remember chasing a deer through the woods, for miles it seemed. Actually it was miles. I know that for a fact. Apparently we ran and ran and ran, because when we came to ourselves we had no idea where we were.’”

EverymanHYBRID, “December & early January”:

A shot of Vinnie, hand covering his face in shock, as he sits and listens to Jessa’s last voicemail before she went missing. Jeff can be seen in the background, listening in silence. The captions read “[Jessa’s voice, recorded]: Steph, that thing you were talking about, I saw it...he’s real, he’s right here. What the hell does he want? I think he’s following me.”

Parallels drawn:

The deer symbolizes wild nature, something that man cannot obtain, touch, or capture without abandoning something of his own humanity. Similarly, deer represent the unattainable prey. Noli me tangere, says Caesar’s unattainable deer– touch me not, no matter how hard you may attempt to catch me. Jessa of EMH is deemed the unattainable companion and Jeff’s driving force to discover the truth behind the situation they’ve been placed in–it is Jessa, dangled in front of him after she goes missing, that leads Jeff down the path that inevitably leads to his own death after uncovering too much. The deer is to be chased, to be hunted, and never captured. Camilla from The Secret History believed herself to be a deer during the same hallucinatory bacchanal that cost a man his life, and led her brother and friends on a chase spanning miles. Jessa was hunted by an unknowable force, then used as bait to draw her partner down the path to his own death. Unattainability, the shape of something fleeing in front of you, elicits a powerful reaction to follow, to hunt, to chase. Jessa fell victim to that reaction. Camilla, and the white hind, did not.

3: The Myth of Diana and Actaeon, EverymanHYBRID, and The Secret History--Madness

The Diana and Actaeon Fountain at the Caserta Royal Palace:

The detail of the fountain shown depicts the pivotal scene in the myth of Actaeon and Artemis, where Actaeon, mid-transformation into a stag, is killed for the slight of viewing the goddess Artemis nude.The sculpture shows the transformation in no mercy, plain in its depiction of Actaeon’s pain and terror, and the simple ferocity of the hounds that surround him.

EverymanHYBRID, “May & June”:

A shot of Jeff, blood spattered across him, speaking with a shocked and angry tone. The captions read, “Jeff: Why were we doing that? That was...that’s not what we were looking for. We knew damned well that wasn’t what we were trying to kill. (Vince: Close enough.) It was a deer! It was a fucking deer! I tried to pull you off, you tried to punch me in the fucking face!”

The Secret History, on the Greeks’ view of beauty and terror (bold for emphasis):

“Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful to souls like the Greeks or to our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripedes speaks of the Maenads: head thrown back, throat to the stars, ‘more like deer than human being’.”

Parallels drawn:

Most depictions of Actaeon, sculpture or painting, usually show him with antlers or a deer lower body, leaving his head and face a recognizable human shape. However, the sculptor here decided to subvert expectations and leave his body human, giving Actaeon the animal head of a stag. The loss of control and the descent from human to animal is not glorified or made palatable by the mere addition of a crown of antlers--there is only the one constant, fear, that follows him all the way down. Madness may be defined as a loss of control, and there may be something beautiful and terrifying in feeling your sanity slip through your own fingers. Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie are overtaken by brief, inexplicable madness and tear apart a deer as they come dangerously close to uncovering exactly who and what is hunting them. They skate close to seeing soemthing they shouldn't see. It is only Jeff who looks up, shocked by the blood on his hands, and voices his fear. Vinnie, apathetic, lets it go. But Evan, houndlike and irrational, defends his kill.

4: EverymanHYBRID & Hannibal--Warnings and Temptation

EverymanHYBRID, “May & June”:

A shot of Evan, spattered heavily with blood, standing with shoulders caved in protectively. His left hand is raised to his mouth, with his hair covering his eyes, and he is licking the blood off of his fingers.

“Shot Through The Hart, and Hannibal’s To Blame” (bold for emphasis):

“In my post about ravens, I talked about how it’s not always easy to tell what the Ravenstag really means. Is it evidence of the Hannibalesque elements of Will’s soul? Or a warning of those parts growing within him? Does the Ravenstag urge Will forward on his journey, or warn him of what’s to come?”

Hannibal, Season 1, Episode 1 “Aperitif”:

A shot of the Ravenstag, staring directly into the camera with one hoof up, as if to approach. There are black feathers interwoven with its pelt and its eyes have an uncanny shine.

Parallels drawn:

On a naturalistic note, deer are skittish creatures. They have thin legs and a sleek body, made for running. A small head and big eyes, placed wide-set to see coming predators. Keen ears. They are ready at any moment to sense danger, warn others, and flee. When a deer does not move, it is either safe or sizing up its options, either accepting where it is or preparing to run. Deer, staring directly at the viewer, come as a sympathetic warning to flee or, in its dark eyes and firm stance, a temptation. Me tangere, they say. Come closer. We are one and the same. In Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal, the commanding presence of the Ravenstag serves as both a warning and a beckoning temptation to turn his feet down the darker path. It is otherworldly, black-furred and feathered, and yet a warning of events rooted in the real world--does Will understand what danger he is in upon meeting Hannibal and take the warning, or will he ignore it, sensing that same darkness in himself, that same potential for corruption? In EverymanHYBRID, it is that same killing of a deer that hints at that same potential for darkness growing inside Evan. He licks at his fingers, animalistic, fully ignoring his own Ravenstag warning signs for the delight of the hunt. Is he Evan anymore? Or is something else growing inside him?

5: EverymanHYBRID & Hannibal--Predator and Prey, or the Final Act

EverymanHybrid, “:D”:

A shot of HABIT, looking up a set of stairs with one foot on the bottom step. In one hand down by his side, he is holding a knife. His posture is tilted forward, poised, ready to spring into action, like that of a hunter.

“Shot Through The Hart, and Hannibal’s To Blame” (bold for emphasis):

“The idea of deer as symbols of rebirth also stands out to me. Hannibal is a series obsessed with becoming and transformation. People start one way, and are reborn as something completely other by the end of the show. There’s even a character sewn up into a deceased pregnant horse in the hopes that when she’s released, she will be literally reborn as something different. It’s thus a neat fit, this significance of deer with the themes of the show.”

EverymanHYBRID, “:D”:

A shot of Jeff, looking up and to the side with an expression of caution and fear. His eyes are unnerved, squinting as, from offscreen, HABIT’s hand plays idly with his hat.

Parallels drawn:

The first and final incarnation of the deer is, of course, prey. Beyond and before any symbolism of innocence and wildness and warnings, deer are prey animals, to be hunted and devoured. And yet, in keeping with the concept of contrasting symbolism, deer are not helpless. Yearly, they shed and regrow their antlers in a transformation of horn and blood. At the climax of EverymanHYBRID, the final reveal, the final transformation, comes to fruition. HABIT, formerly Evan, takes its place as the Hunter, the archetypal predator, with Jeff shown most prominently as the Prey. Jeff’s luck has run its course, with him in the chair as the sacrificial prey-victim to fall to HABIT’s knife. HABIT, reborn, reiterated, made incarnate through Evan’s unwilling transformation, is poised to start the hunt. This is the big reveal, the crux of the transformation, Actaeon caught mid-transfiguration and the bloody sloughing-off of velvet humanity to reveal perfect and gleaming antlers. This is what it comes down to, time and time again. The hunter and the hunted. The wilderness embraced and the wilderness captured, and the monstrosity in that act.

Works Cited

Callimachus. Actaeon and Artemis. C. 220 BC

Fuller, Bryan. “Apetirif.” Hannibal, season 1, episode 1, NBC, 4 Apr. 2013.

Koval, J., Caffarello, V., &; Jennings, E. (Directors). (2011, July 12). May & June [Video file].

Koval, J., Caffarello, V., &; Jennings, E. (Directors). (2012, October 9). :D [Video file].

Tartt, Donna. The Secret History. Penguin, 2006.

Uhminuh. “Shot Through the Hart, and Hannibal's to Blame.” Read the Rude, Wordpress, 19 July 2020.

Wyatt, Thomas. “Whoso List to Hunt, I Know where is an Hind.” c. 1530.

Honorary mention to this fanart by @/rrhaes that started this whole spiral

#emh #everymanhybrid #flickerthoughts #flicker wrote this #i'm serious when i say this has been brewing in my head for a calendar year #i finally pieced it together at the beginning of this week and it's STILL incomprehensible but i think the vibes are there #emh my beloved emh and the themes and motifs and symbolism that exists in my head #i have a love hate relationship w the secret history but i put it all in here #also i am two eps deep in hannibal but i think i got the gist idk #anyways i want you all to know i REALLY wanted to work in the iphigenia/steph parallels but it just didn't make sense in this context #maybe i'll post it later idk but!!! here take this #in keeping with the theme of my best literary analysis showing up when i'm at my breaking point wrt life #this :handshake: reylux parallels post -- created under emotional duress #i rly wanna do one that's like 'slenderverse women + being followed' bc that's a FEELING. #if i am saying the emh boys are actaeon torn to shreds by their own dogs after they hunt the wrong prey.....that's my business lmao #should i tag the other stuff? here i'll tag em here so they don't show up in search #hannibal #the secret history #flicker's meta

[crashdown]

little battlestar apreciation post but i wanted to talk about ethics. a little bit. and the amazing way this show handles it.

so, obviously nuking 12 planets and nearly driving a species into extinction isn't good. it's pretty fucked up as a matter of fact! so it's no question that the humans have some contepmt against the cylons.

however their ethics come into question when dealing with rogue or captured cylons like boomer (number 8), sharon agathon (number 8 or athena) or gina (number 6). in many of the colonist's minds, they're machines, therefore why should they protect them? why should they be treated in the same respect as humans?

these cylons are treated in a manner that disturbs even some humans. in gina's case, this extends to physical, emotional, and even sexual abuse, to the point that gaius baltar is almost at a loss of how to get her to come out of her shell. it's a miracle that after how they treated athena she still wanted to help them.

this kind of treatment, however, is why the cylons did what they did in the first place. one of my favourite lines in the entire show takes place after adama sees athena for the first time, the last number 8 he saw being the one that shot him. he tries to kill her, and after he's stopped she says this line ("and you ask why?"):

one could easily question athena's loyalties. she expresses throughout the series, up to a point, that her loyalty to the fleet is conditional, though her loyalty to helo is complete. it's not until after new caprica that she fully regains trust in adama, and even then she's mistreated by the other officers for who she is.

i'm not defending the cylon's actions in any way. i'm simply saying there's something to say when it comes to the degridation and othering that cylons face with humans, even when they've made themselves look human as well. yes, cylons are the enemy. yes, they're robotic, not human. but shouldn't there be some line to be drawn when dealing with prisioners? especially ones, like athena, that are cooporative? ones that can feel pain and mental anguish?

i think the cylons had every right to hold a grudge for how they were treated. they were enslaved, and their intelligence was ignored on the basis that they were robots, not humans. this doesn't excuse their actions when it comes to the cylon war or the genocide of the twelve colonies, but it does give good reason for their rebellion.

this is one of the reasons i love battlestar as much as i do. there are so many situations where there is no one good side or bad side. there are times when you look at characters like adama or roslin, the leaders of the fleet, and you question their choices. when they don't behave like protagonists, but humans.

#long post #oops #just infodumping don't mind me #also i wanted to post athena bc she's pretty #battlestar galactica #bsg #battlestar galactica 2003

[hellishmess]

39: The Terrible Truth

March 6,2019 11:00 pm

[Ana]

I laid in the trunk of the car, recalling overhearing Maeve tell Aspen they’re leaving at 11pm in the little Chevy Impala.

It was a crazy thing to do, but I'm finally going to see what they've been doing.

I laid tucked away as they got into the car and began the drive to wherever they were heading.

The car turns onto gravel before we roll to a stop. Satisfaction makes me grin like a cat, and a smugness made me giddy.

Ooooh, no. They weren’t expecting this.

I listen as they quickly get out of the car, flinching into the floor when I heard a sudden crack of sound.

Undeterred, I pulled the emergency release lever in the back of the trunk, crawling out of the car and across the yard.

My grin fell when I got to the porch. They must have stormed the house. The door was hanging off it's hinges. Splintered strips of wood hung crooked along with the light fixture that hung above the door.

I wondered deeper into the house.

The stereo was untouched. You belong to me by patience and prudence plays on repeat.

However, the rest of the house was total chaos. A total of 6 adversaries stood, all fully busy trying to fight off Aspen, Shay, and Maeve.

3 were already dead on the floor.

Blood sprayed through the air accompanied by a scream that rose every hair on my body. I froze as my eyes found the source of both chilling things.

Shay had a huge butcher's knife in one hand and a dude pinned to the counter with the other. The dude was withering in the vampire's grasp, blood gushing out of the stub that is now his arm.

“Ana?!” Aspen’s suddenly beside me. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

She’s dotted with blood, but her face was a stricken mask of concern and surprise.

“I hid in the trunk.” The words felt dumb coming out of my mouth.

Maeve and Shay didn’t stop at my entrance like Aspen did. They still fought, killed.

“Let’s go outside,” she says.

But we get cut off. Shays there, fighting with someone while looking unconcerned as ever.

I yelp, skittering into the kitchen.

Aspen follows me, only pausing in front of the fridge, Her head cocked as she considers something. "Do you need some water?"

I don't answer her. I literally cannot believe what I'm seeing.

Aspen shrugs, closing the fridge and moving to lean against the kitchen's sliding door. No one pays attention. No one moves to attack her. I follow, not wanting to get in the way of anyone here.

A sudden pop of sound whips my head around.

Maeve is on the defense, taking on a woman with a cruel looking whip. It cracked again and I heard Maeve swear when it tore flesh.

A few feet away a boy my age is screaming as he runs towards Shay with an ax. He swipes through thin air. The vampire gone in a matter of milliseconds.

My stomach churns as I see the boy's head fly across the room. It hits the wall and lands close to where the severed arm rests.

"Jesus Christ." I try to keep my stomach down as I stand with Aspen.

My body is stiff as a board. My arms wrapped around myself for some kind of comfort. I can’t look away.

My grasp on reality tilts, my mind disassociating from the horrors before me. The song makes it worse. I can almost trick myself into thinking it's all a scene from a movie.

The vampire doesn't stop for a second. No one is able to touch him. He backs up Maeve, throwing a shard of glass at the lady with the whip. It sliced through the side of her throat.

Her eyes flash as blood starts to pour. The whip drops to the floor when her hands go to the wound. They press against the sliced flesh in vain, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

I look away when Shay grabs her. His bared fangs were enough of a warning for what's to come.

Movement erupts to my right causing me to flinch back closer to Aspen. My eyes close for a heartbeat as fear consumes me. Another pathetic yelp tears away from my throat.

Aspen, however, was fearless. She materializes a knife, meeting our attacker head on.

Their fight is drawn away from me. I press against the glass door, helpless to watch my girlfriend fight a man 3x her size.

I flinch at the screech of metal against metal. Aspen takes a hard blow to the side of her jaw. Her retaliation was swift and bloodily. The man stumbled back, pausing to watch blood start to wet his clothes.

He thunders towards Aspen again, but she might as well have been death itself. Her movements were so sudden when she strikes.

My eyes barely follow as she slits the man's throat while dodging his tackle. The man halts, confusion and shock opening his eyes.

Bile rises in my throat as his life force splatters onto my shoes.

Aspen is back in my vision again, rising behind the dazed man. My eyes find hers and I shiver at what I see.

A darkness that's clear as day and cold as ice peers back at me.

She stabs the man through his temple. The man's final sound was like a gunshot through me. The hard thud of his body the echo. More blood splattered my legs and shoes.

Aspen bends down and retrieves her blade, wiping it clean on the cheap table cloth.

The nonchalance in her movements furthers my spiral out of reality.

Killers. All of them.

My head shook and my vision tunneled. I stare at the wall, forcing myself to keep breathing.

Aspen resumes standing beside me, leaning against the door.

Her skin's stained with blood this time though. I don't know where the knife is hid.

Her eyes flash in the back of my mind. They were something I haven't seen before. This Aspen was darker than anything I ever knew.

Silence.

I looked over into the living room. Aspen was standing before the stereo, cutting off that creepy ass song.

I blink, not recalling her moving from my side.

They all stood there, taking in their destruction. Slowly their gazes made it over to me.

I froze, unsure of what to say. Death hung around us. Blood, limbs, and bodies, all testaments of the viciousness of just two girls and a vampire.

The bile is back and this time I don't fight it. Stumbling over the body of Aspen's kill, I puke over the corner of the kitchen's island.

I realize why they didn't want me knowing now. This was something they understood mutually. The violence and the murder. They weren't strangers to it, but I was.

The sound of footsteps echo in the silence, disrupting my thoughts. A man stands, a gun in his hands and pointed level with my chest.

I freeze, fear jumping into my throat once again.

Aspen is the one to react. With a flick of her wrist, the man is bent sideways with pain. I see a flash of the anguish that crosses his face, hear his piercing scream before he hits the ground dead. The gun forgotten beside him.

I stare down at the body. He dropped dead in a moment just because Aspen flicked her fingers?

I stood surrounded by kills made by the people I called friends. It seemed so easy for them too. Effortless.

This was what Aspen was trying to protect me from. This was what Aspen was trying to hide.

Conflicting emotions make me gag again.

Killers. They just slaughtered everyone here.

I should have listened to them. I shouldn't have snuck out. They were right. I didn't want to see this side of them.

Aspen warned me. She told me, but I wouldn't listen.

“I can't rest knowing I don't know a side of you.”My words haunt me.

Who would want to see this side of them? Who would want to know the merciless destruction they could lay onto a person?

I was stupid.

I met Aspen's eyes. Her whole face was guarded as if she knew what I must be thinking right now.

I pick my way through the house and leave through the busted door. No one follows.

I'm disappointed and glad all at the same time. The fresh night air was exactly what I needed. It eased something in me that was threatening to break. I perched on the hood of the car, tilting my head back to lose myself in the night sky.

Shay was the first one to come out, Maeve a few steps behind him. Both joined me in silence.

Maeve opened the passenger side door but didn't get in. Neither spoke a word.

"Are we not leaving?" My voice sounds far away in my head.

"We've got to clean up." Maeve answers.

I don't get to ask what she means. Aspen stands on the porch. I watch as her hands raise. A flicker of light can be scene through the window.

Fire.

Aspen keeps her position at the front door, her hands raising steady higher. The flames consume everything inside, climbing higher and burning hotter every second Aspen pours her magic into it.

This is what they meant by clean up.

They're covering their tracks from the human police.

The stench of burning flesh reaches us. I resist the urge to hack, covering my nose and mouth with both my shirt and my hand.

Once the fire reaches the roof, Aspen makes a gesture and steps away, jumping down the steps and pacing towards us.

"If that doesn't burn the bodies then even hell itself can't." She opens the door to the backseat, "Let's go."

We all obey, eager to get away.

Shay spins us out of the yard and down the pig trail they call a drive.

It's quiet between us all. I'm pressed against the door, unable to shake the uncomfortable feeling in my gut.

I keep stealing glances at all of them.

Shay butchering that man flashes before turning into Aspen. The darkness reflected in Aspen's gaze matched Shays own twisted glee.

Maeve was still nursing the few wounds she got.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Yeah. Nothing too bad." She grits out, pressing McDonald's napkins to her arm.

"I could heal it for you," Shay offered.

"You know I'll pass."

He shrugs at the wheel.

Shay hits a rough pothole, jolting Maeve entirely. "You know Aspen. You really could have helped us out more," Maeve snaps.

Aspen's chuckle only lightly sounded humorous. "I figured I'd let you and your boyfriend bond."

"Whatever." She hisses, but I get the hunch that she's holding back a few things.

The ride back was silent. Shay sped down the highway. It was 3:40 am. Despite everything, the rocking of the car threatened to lull me to sleep.

I couldn't fight it. Hell I didn't even want to. Leaning against the window, I let my eyes close.

[vctoriatala]

Dream

The first detail of it I cannot remember; except that I was with my two elder siblings: brother and sister; and we were called on to check out an occasion that took place we know not when. It was in some kind of a forest. Hence, we found ourselves inside some cabin, or to be precise, in some kind of a room. A clean room containing the rest of the owner's things before he died. Our object being to guess who died, by whom, and in what manner the victim met his death. The various objects we found obviously were the clues by which we must extract correct answers--for there was said to be a consequence.

We started our exploration with the various objects we found. There was a shoe-rack and opposite was some kind of cabinet. I can't remember what we found on the shoe-rack, but in the cabinet as we opened it there inside was a shoe--its pair having gone missing. It was a modern, and yet old, shoe designed primarily in red, and then black. The same one as I had seen my brother wear. But what made it quite particular was the messy hole or slit at the back side of it as though roughly slit with a very thin, edgy, sharp object. I concluded blade, a razor blade. And we seemed to have found, indeed, a blade. The shoe was itself dry with traces of blood.

However, my brother disagreed with me. And other objects inside the room suggested disagreement as well.

I remember touching the shoe, checking it out--and as I touched it my conclusion was made all the more baffled. For as though in a vision I saw an old couple and their granddaughter. The old man was wearing a yellow shirt and the old woman, red; while the granddaughter wore something I cannot remember. They were to go watch an opera. They seemed to be in a hurry, for outside, everything was dark--not that they were getting late, nay, there was something they a-feared. As they opened the door, something rushed in and the vision was gone.

With the shoe I could somehow vividly imagine the events that took place during the time of their attack and yet not quite so. Nay, with the slit on the shoe I could only imagine one of them having something to do with it--but why the back of the shoe? It was what my brother argued over in his disagreement.

And then the scene changed. Nay, the only thing that changed was the absence of my brother, as though he was called somewhere; and the appearance of an old lady warning us to leave that very minute, that we shouldn't have gone to that place, and that it will not do for us to be there at that hour. I and my sister were then outside the cabin which itself vanished as the scene changed--though the place remained the same. The season was autumn and everywhere around us we could only see beauty, though the atmosphere seemed subdued and subtly deathly; hence I myself could not understand why we must be weary of some lady told by this old woman. Indeed, we looked around quite a while, with the old woman never leaving us.

It seemed as though we stayed a bit longer, and the hours seemed to fall fast and the old woman insisted it was time for us to go. We agreed, for it was as though our mother was calling us (strangely enough we knew--or perhaps we only knew by heart our mother would be looking for us). We bade the old woman goodbye, and thanked her for her kindness. She offered to walk us home, when, there appeared, out of nowhere, a carriage bearing a stately, beautiful lady. Her lips was red and she wore a velveteen dark, red dress. Her hair was magnificently bound in Victorian era style. She seemed ancient and yet not. She glanced and smiled at us--and yet one would know it was not some kindly smile one would feel to have received from a person of her stature. And yet one would never notice it except when one stops to think about the manner in which the smile was graced. She was half jesting and half mocking when she confronted the old lady regarding our having to have to be weary. The old woman herself seemed averse to this lady who addressed us not with a word.

None of us noticed the change, for everything seemed natural when, instead of going home with my sister, I was to go home with someone else. My sister suddenly was to stay a bit longer and that we were to just meet later.

My new companion was a lady of my age: beautiful and fair, sprightly and merry. She was so friendly that I was easily drawn to her. We talked as if we have been friends a long time. It was so easy to converse with her, and yet I cannot remember the things we talked about. I felt I could trust her--hence I did.

As we started homebound, we were told to be careful. I thanked the old lady for the last time and bade them goodbye. Her expression conveyed helplessness which I barely noticed; nay, even when I did I said nothing about. Night seemed to be creeping fast as we left. When we were with them, it was but just 5 o'clock around which always seemed to be the time, perhaps due to the subdued atmosphere. Even with the utter silence there still was light. However, not long after we walked, with my companion being really friendly and quite merry which I did not mind at all; my sole object being to finally be home--our surrounding began to grow dark until everything became black and white. My sister being not with me, I began to feel uneasy. Meanwhile my companion remained friendly, fast, cool, and merry. We walked on until by the outline of a rock that's before us suddenly she stepped aside and stopped. I did not understand what she meant by what she did, but I copied her. And just as I stopped there suddenly appeared a silhouette of some kind of animal with a horn but not quite that of a dear, approaching fast. It passed us. And I was told it was dangerous and thus the reason why we stood still and watched it pass.

"Here you will find different sorts of dangerous animals. Not the kind that you know to be lurking in the dark. And here we must stay still a moment longer, and never let ourselves be seen." my companion said quite gayly. She was of the race of the woodfolks, of the trees, able to shapeshift into human. She was supposed to be home herself by the moment, but she chose to accompany me. For this I was thankful, truly thankful.

We stood still. Remained silent and looked on, as a procession of animals passed. Animals in different shapes and sizes. No. It was not possible for us, or for me atleast to describe the animals fully. For I could only, but see their silhouettes. The shape of something dangerous passing through. And when, a group of small, plump animals, not quite like pigs, or other usual fat animals we know to exist; of the height of a young faun, passed. These animals have but two legs, their body seemingly akin to that of a jelly: spring-like and yet not--but dangerous still, though they are, I was told, the lowest class of the animals that passed.

They had spotted me. I froze and closed my eyes, willing everything to be over. I rather felt them advance towards me, and as I could no longer move, I felt or perhaps imagined them crowding over me and beginning to tear me apart. Strangely I did not feel any pain and yet I imagined I did so.

On my mind was my companion, who, for the last time I opened my eyes, dimly, merely watched me being torn apart. And as though, as at last she left--earlier as we were together quite fair, this time having the color of the darkest of brown for a skin, and still she was beautiful...

[jonnyopinion]

Mr Spock and the Cat Police

How overthinking the meaning of cat ownership may have made me sociopath, and other musings.

An email came from the landlord a few weeks ago that I've been wanting to tell you about. "Evidence" had been found of cats residing in the building, which had been traced, correctly, to me.

"I would like to bring to your attention that pets are not permitted in the flats due to the damage and possible infestations they can cause. The cat will need to be removed from the property and we will shortly conduct inspections to ensure this has taken place".

Oh. Shit.

Actually it's cats, plural. Two of them. Their names are Monk and Tiger, they are nine months old, and they look like this:

They are brother and sister, coming from an unreasonably large litter of eleven, and who I came by through a friend of friend. They needed a home. How could I resist? Look at them. Look at their widdle faces.

Not now, Mr Spock.

So the email was a bit of shock. It shouldn't​ have been, since I signed a tenancy agreement that included a clear "no pets" clause. I chose to ignore this, which brings you up-to-date.

It has been at the back of my mind for a while that Tiger and Monk and I might not to be able to live together happily ever after. As I said in a previous post they aren't totally compatible with my longer term plans; even with my short term experiments with indoor gardening, for that matter. So, after several attempts to find them a home, which have not been successful, they've gone back to where they came from.  They may be able to move on from there, but I had to have them out by this week, so that was that.  When I got home to my now cat-free flat I felt a little sad, and then I felt free again.  It was strange.  Perhaps I'm just a heartless bastard.

Spoiler alert. Occasionally, this blog will refer to Star Trek. Specifically, to its version of the future in which technology and a new understanding of their place in the universe has allowed for the human race to develop of a new globalised economic system, under a single world government, without war, starvation or want. It is a future where not only do "material needs no longer exist" but which money itself, the blood of our economy, has become obsolete. How exactly this all works is never fully explained in the series, a fact to which its writers make the occasional knowing self-reference, but for which they should not be unduly criticised. It's science fiction, after all, and they don't ever explain how their "transporters" (which teleport humans over long distances instantly) or "replicators" (which create food and other materials out of thin air just as quickly) work either: but then, being able to explain such fictional devices perfectly would be tantamount to actually inventing them, which of course has not happened. If you're a regular reader of this blog, you'll appreciate how this is relevant to my interests.

Ah, yes, Mr Spock. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. Nice cat you've got there. Good segue.

Indeed. Spock was the original Star Trek's famously conflicted alien: half human, half "Vulcan". Humans are often characterised in Star Trek as emotional, impulsive, irrational - which of course they are - but these aspects of their nature are over-emphasised for dramatic reasons, and as a point of contrast between Vulcan nature, which is logical, dispassionate and as was drawn out more in later incarnations of the franchise, somewhat emotionally repressed. The climax of the Vulcan back story involves a time of "great awakening", in which a species on the brink of self-destruction manages to overcome its dark and violent impulses by embracing a philosophy of radical self-control and a logical, disinterested approach to decision-making, just in time to keep from annihilating themselves altogether, and go on to explore the galaxy, sharing their wisdom and technology with other species they deem worthy of their attention. Just as humans discover the means by which they might do the same (faster than light "warp speed" space travel) a passing Vulcan ship's curiosity is piqued, and so begins a long, fraught but fruitful relationship between the two species that is several centuries old by the time Mr Spock comes along. In the Star Trek timeline, incidentally, this occurs in the year 2063, which isn't really that long now.  Perhaps we'll make it; or perhaps not.  I wonder if a renewed emphasis on self-control and logic might be just the solution we need.  These are excessive and illogical times.  I need not remind you of who the most powerful person on the planet currently is.

We live in an every more overtly emotional world.  Just last week, the Prime Minister (of whom I am, needless to say, no fan) was criticised, not only for failing to engage with the community affected by the Grenfell Tower disaster on a personal level, as well she might be, but for not publicly crying enough with or for them.  As the Spectator put it, she is "too British for her own good".  A similar phenomenon occurred 20 years ago after the death of Princess Diana, when a similar line of attack was made on the Queen, who following this latest newsworthy tragedy was applauded for, unlike Theresa May, coming out and actually making physical contact with the plebs in person, just as fervently as she had been for not doing in 1997.  For some reason how our leaders are seen to be feeling, regardless of what they may or may not actually feel, is supposed to be extremely important.  Why?  A very difficult question.

Now this is coming from a man who has taken Prozac for the last 12 years, but I'm really not a very emotional person.  It isn't only that, like the Prime Minister, I might be too British for my own good - that I don't express my emotions as much as I might - so much as that I don't really feel very much at all.  I'm not exactly robotic, like Mrs May is said to be, though of course in private almost certainly isn't, but only on very rare occasions do I feel any emotion intensely enough that it needs to be expressed.  This may put me a little at odds with the times, in which is now platitudinous that to "open up" is intrinsically a good thing, that to be emotionally "repressed" is intrinsically unhealthy, that men should not be afraid of appearing "vulnerable" and so on, and so on.  I wonder though if the unspoken truth about individuals is that some feel a lot more than others.  For some, to be openly emotional is a source of strength; just as much, for others, it is a form of deception.  Why pretend to feel for the satisfaction of others, when behind a superficially emotional exterior, you may feel nothing at all?  Are emotional reactions to terrible things necessarily a good thing?  Should we be more like Theresa May?  Perish the thought.  Should we be more like Spock?  More complex questions.

Cats are really nice to have around.  Really nice.  Just stroking a cat can lower your blood pressure and cholesterol, relieve anxiety, and significantly decrease your chances of becoming unnecessarily dead.  Incredible, and perhaps no wonder that we "emotionally repressed" Brits have such high rates of cat ownership.  About the most monstrous thing a British person could do, except perhaps putting their sofa in the garden, would be to eat their cat.  A special level of contempt is reserved in the popular consciousness for the abusers of cats and dogs (although not, of course, for sheep, pigs or cows, the abuse of which we generally contract out).  Maybe I "should" feel sad, then, about having to give my cats away again.  But I don't.  I feel nothing about it, except lightly relieved.

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