Don’t Mind Me, I’m Just Going To Go Lay Face-down On The Floor And Think About Neil’s Insistence

A Madonna with neon halo in Naples, Italy.

things adam parrish receives in the mail during his first semester at college:

six books from gansey about mythology, ley lines, and glendower, all sticky-noted with things gansey has noticed in his studies. most of these sticky notes have questions for adam on them. some of them have doodles of fast cars and girls with spiky hair. some of them have beatles lyrics. adam keeps all of them, replacing gansey’s sticky notes with his own before sending them back.

thirty-two letters from blue, all of which he has responded to and kept. they both have pay-by-the-minute phones now–a necessity, given the distance in the group–but blue sent adam a two-page letter during his first week at the dorms, and it made adam feel so much less alone that he just never stopped. they talk about a lot of things–what’s happening at fox way (told to blue, away at her own school, over the phone by orla and calla and her mother), how ronan and gansey are doing, whether or not adam’s checked in with the student disability center about accommodations for his hearing, whether or not blue and checked in about her dyslexia, how big and wide and vast the world outside of Henrietta is for two people who have never really left its boundaries. 

three mixtapes from ronan, along with various knickknacks and dream things that make adam’s heart squeeze in his chest and laughter bubble from his lips. a pair of headphones specifically for someone with single-sided deafness, a tin-can that works as a walkie talkie (one of a five-piece set), a bag of candy from that local place that adam likes. letters, but not long, like blue’s–short things, like tracklists or scraps of paper with “i fucking miss you” or “your roommate sounds like a dick” or “2 weeks” written on them in a messy hand

little notes from noah, stuck in with ronan’s mail–things that say “ronan wouldn’t let me put blink182 on your mixtape :(” or “ronan went red for like two days when those flowers showed up” or "we maybe kind of adopted your old dog and she’s the best??”

a small package from fox way that comes once a month–like the one blue gets–full of slightly burned cookies and magical advice and, on a few occasions, notes that calla or maura have found while going through persephone’s things that mention him. calla writes him, sometimes, and adam is getting better at knowing that it’s not just because he meant something to persephone. 

“Between any two beings there is a unique, uncrossable distance, an unenterable sanctuary. Sometimes it takes the shape of aloneness. Sometimes it takes the shape of love.”

— Jonathan Safran Foer, Here I Am (via weltenwellen)

The foxhole court coffeeshop AU where the entire team works at the same shop.

Dan and Matt are constantly making out in the break room. 

Kevin takes coffee way too seriously and lectures customers who dont acknowledge the difference between different roasts. 

Nicky is boisterous and somehow always gets control of the stereo. 

Wymack is the owner/manager. 

Abby is the accountant. 

Betsy owns the cafe next door. 

Allison specializes in frou frou drinks. Seth doesnt work there but he visits her but wont drink her girly coffees. 

Neil just needs a job. Andrew is weirdly protective of him and wont let anyone ask about his shady past. 

Renee is Renee. 

Aaron is openly hostile to customers and for some reason girls love it??? 

Bonus:  Everytime Kevins abusive ex Riko walks in Nicky plays we are never ever getting back together by tswift and riko gets so furious he knocks over the display of seasonal coffees.

There is a specific and terrifying difference between “never were” monsters and “are not anymore” monsters

“The thing that was not a deer” implies a creature which mimics a deer but imperfectly and the details which are wrong are what makes it terrifying

“The thing that was not a deer anymore” on the other hand implies a thing that USED to be a deer before it was somehow mutated, possessed, parasitically controlled or reanimated improperly and what makes THAT terrifying is the details that are still right and recognizable poking out of all the wrong and horrible malformations.

what is the monster narrative?

can you believe this is pretty much the first time i’ve ever been asked this?

i summarize the monster narrative on my about page: what is the monster? why is it a monster? does it regret being a monster? does it love being a monster? 

and so to me the monster narrative is any story that revolves around monstrosity, often falling under one of those questions and using at least one of them to build a more specific story off of that.

what is the monster?

does something Happen to someone that makes them a monster? are monsters born? are they made? do we need an explanation? is your story about finding an explanation for the monster, or is it about discovering the monster in the first place? is this alien – is the monster always in the shadows, lurking through the whole movie, are you holding your breath and watching the flick of tail and the shine of teeth? is one of your characters the monster? does someone have to be the monster? is there always a monster?

and what is the monster? is the monster a literal beast, teeth and claws and the growl in the pit of the throat? is the monster just the Other, the thing that Is Not You? is the monster a villain, and why is that villain a monster, and is there a difference between villains and monsters? are you the monster? is the monster every part of yourself that you do not want to be?

why is it a monster?

what makes characters monsters? this ties into the initial point: does something have to Happen, in order to make a monster? are you seeking an explanation? why are you doing that? why are we so eager to find our monsters? did you make your own monster? are you desperate to find a monster that makes you into the Not Monster? why is that?

is your story going back into the monster-past and unraveling the monster? is your story confronting prior assumptions? is your story exploring the monstrosity that is a part of all of us? is this the 100 – do we all have a monster inside of us, and are we all responsible for what it does when we let it out? why, why is it a monster?

does it regret being a monster?

is the story about a monster trying to change – because of love, because of self-love, because of remorse? does it keep hurting anyways? can it not change? why? can it change? why? what caused the regret in the first place? was it a person? what makes this person different, really?

can monsters change? are they always doomed to be the things they were? let’s step back: what is the monster? why is it that once you call something a monster, it can never be anything else? why are we not allowed to be anything but the people we were? are we giving the monster another chance? why are we doing that?

if it regrets, if it changes, if it grows: what now? does it have nightmares? does it wake up in the mornings with aching teeth? is change easy, one step, or every time it sees a knife does it ache? what is it, now that it is Not A Monster? or is it a monster still? are you always a monster? are you just a better one, now? or is this beauty and the beast – once loved, do your fur and claws and teeth melt away like they were never there?

is it enough? is it enough? is it enough?

does it love being a monster?

why choose monstrosity over other things? does love hurt too much? does love not hurt enough? is this what the monster thinks will get it love? has it never wanted love? why? why do we build our monster-stories around love, anyways?

what makes monstrosity feel good? what problem does it solve? why does it love being a monster? why does it love being a monster?

or, in short: the monster narrative is a story about a monster. here is the river, and here is the box, and here are the monsters we put in the box to test our strength against. monster stories are necessary stories. monster stories tell us things about ourselves, and our monsters, and we who are our monsters. and i love every single permutation of them, teeth and all.

what he says: i'm fine

what he means: You know, I get it. Being raised as a superstar must be really, really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you’re worth a damn off the court— yeah, sounds rough. Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time. I know it’s not entirely your fault that you are mentally unbalanced and infected with these delusions of grandeur, and I know you’re physically incapable of holding a decent conversation with anyone like every other normal human being can, but I don’t think any of us should have to put up with this much of your bullshit. Pity only gets you so many concessions, and you used yours up about six insults ago. So please, please, just shut the fuck up and leave us alone.

»we change each other« by shilpa gupta (+)

Sophocles, Elektra (trans. Anne Carson)