hello & thank you for visiting my little home on tumblr. while i don't anticipate much interaction, i always look forward to any engagement with my posts and i like being able to connect with likeminded people, even if only through likes or reblogs. i'm happy you're here! :-)
if you'd like, you can call me c.n or narcissus. i'm a twenty-three-year-old lesbian from the united states. i love tumblr most for giving me a platform to share my ideas among other fans of the media i enjoy. if anything i posted happened to pique your interest or we seem to roam in the same circles, i've also opened up my /ask box so i can get back to you if you'd like to leave a message on my doorstep!
an obsession (2025) au of the passenger (2023) where everything is the same except randy breaks a one wish willow before his shift. he only bought it because haley pointed it out the last time they went to the supermarket together and their mom reproached her for being intrigued by it. she's superstitious, randy knows, and even though she's mellowed out since he was a kid, he recognized the disappointed way haley stared down at the linoleum, as if her innocent curiosity were something to be ashamed of. when his mom asked him to run out to pick up some more groceries a few nights later, he carefully picked one up, rotating the box between his fingers. it seemed harmless enough for a four buck novelty item, he thought, before tucking it in his basket - and when the cashier asked if he wanted a receipt for his purchases, he shook his head, already planning on telling his mom that the cashier forgot to give it to him; he didn't want to hold up the line; he bought the groceries with his own money, so it's okay; no, he wasn't overcharged; yes, he's sure; so there's less of a chance of her finding out he bought it...
it fell from his passenger seat onto the floorboard as he was driving home, and as he's lying in bed that night, he imagines his mom discovering he bought it for haley and freaking out, lamenting how her only son went behind her back, disappointed her, broke her trust, over a pointless gimmick. he decides not to give it to haley and kicks himself for declining the receipt, since he can't get his money back.
when he catches a glimpse of the red and white packaging from the corner of his eye as he's sitting in his parked car in front of burgers, burgers, burgers - what does he have to lose? he breaks open the cardboard box, snaps the branch, listens to the jingle, and wishes for something good to happen to him today. he thinks that good thing must be hardy offering him the managerial position, but after benson kills everyone else in the building, browbeats him into becoming an accomplice to murder, yells at him to get in the car, and mutters that there's something fixable about him, randy's convinced he caused another disaster. that his wish for something good is, somehow, responsible for this catastrophe; that he should have listened to his mother; that, once again, he made a wrong choice, and other people paid the price.
outside benson's house, the lecture about bad decisions, forget everything that happened, the rest of today is about you, is only halfway heard. randy stares absently at the dashboard, too consumed by guilt and remorse for what he willed benson to do, what he's still willing him to do, when benson asks if they're square. randy can't find the words to respond. it's the force of benson shaking his shoulder, repeating the question - randy, are we square? - that knocks the words from his mouth; instead of saying yes, he asks benson if he could shoot him. the chrysler fills with a dead, frigid silence. if his wish was responsible for benson doing these things to try and fix him, which he's been deluded into believing would be consequentially good, then he would stop if randy was no longer capable of willing anything. he wets his lips, slowly pulling his eyes away from the dashboard, trying to repeat the question - benson, can you- - before he's grabbed by his shoulders and jerked further into the man's personal space. did you hear any fucking part of what i just said? any of it? i want to help you, randy. i'm doing this, all of this, to help you - and you're asking me to shoot you? now, you're asking me to fucking shoot you? he stares hopelessly at benson's cheek as he shoves him back into the seat, his vision blurring with tears. randy watches benson shake his head as he starts the engine, muttering under his breath that he's fucking unbelievable before slamming his foot on the gas.
benson warily eyes randy from his driver's seat for the next hour, keeping the gun in his waistband. as they're driving through the field, he gruffly asks what he's thinking about as he glances at the unbuckled seatbelt behind his shoulder. randy's eyes are glued, again, to the dashboard, but his gaze is distant. this is all my fault, he quietly states in the cabin. i wished for this. benson narrows his eyes, rolling his shoulder as he studies him. what are you talking about? when randy doesn't respond, his fingers flex around the wheel. he takes in a deep breath through his nose and lowly says his name as he exhales. because i broke the one wish willow, randy mumbles under his breath, and benson scoffs. what, like one of the fucking toys? is that what you're talking about? randy slowly turns to stare at his profile. they used to sell those at drug stores when i was a kid. aren't they a little too before your time? randy looks down at his knees. they're selling them now at the supermarket. i bought one for my sister. benson cranes his neck to stare at nothing on the road ahead of them. yeah? she like it? / i never gave it to her. / well, why not? / my mom told her it was dangerous. benson barks out a laugh. you don't actually believe in that shit, do you, randy? he cocks his head to try and catch his gaze. when randy glances up, he meets a wide, gleeful smile. no! you do? as randy feels his blood run cold, benson continues to laugh. and you made a wish? come on! what'd you wish for? randy forces himself to swallow. apparently, benson's waiting on the edge of his seat for the answer. he plants a calloused hand on the valley between his neck and shoulder in anticipation. for something good to happen to me today, randy finally croaks, anchored to the passenger seat by the weight at the bottom of his stomach. as the chrysler fills with a contemplative silence, benson nods. his hand drifts to the back of randy's neck, brushing against the blunt strands there considerately with his thumb, his pinkie skimming the collar of the lent motörhead t-shirt that fit just a little too loose on randy's slighter frame. maybe some wishes come true after all, he wonders aloud, staring at the road ahead, his thumb finding a mole on the back of randy's neck and tracing it with slow, soothing circles.
crack open a cold one: it's a "reviewing diagnostic criteria for diagnosed and/or correspondent mental health conditions and relevant materials to identify ongoing intrapersonal struggles within psychological language and constructs" kind of night.
ohh, i get it! in identifying my desire, i'm forced to confront my feelings of inadequacy and reckon with the distorted perception i have of myself, which i project onto the individuals i want to be favorably evaluated by! and this maladaptive tendency serves as a form of self-flagellation that punishes the very recognition of desire, which is essential in developing relationships with other people where i acknowledge my psychological and emotional needs & allow myself to feel vulnerable!
if a post stays in my drafts for too long i have to do something new with the content or manner of presentation so the idea doesn't seem as stale as it's since become from when i drafted it. #mymethod.
benson having a lasting fondness for animals... finding solace in their company as a child... always wanting a dog or a cat he never ended up getting... maybe there was a grandparent or other relative he loved visiting as a kid because they kept animals... an early appreciation that, while violence has a place among animals in the natural world, they were never unnecessarily cruel... explanations existed for animal aggression, territoriality, and violence that were reasonable... he could understand why animals behaved the way they do, but man - not so much, not until he got older...
a tabby cat starts hanging around his neighborhood a few months before the events of the film... benson knows what the stray cats in the area looked like, but this was a new one... maybe a released house cat without a collar, maybe a stray ran out of it's previous territory - but it doesn't stick around anyone else's house, just his... he watches it from a distance for a couple nights till he caves and buys a can of cat food from the gas station as he's buying his cigarettes... thinks this cat must be the runt of a litter... probably roughed up by some big, fat-cheeked tomcat, since it's missing some tufts of fur... it's reluctant, skittish, but it comes when he cracks open the can and eats like it's famished... the way it's tail stays tucked low to the ground, nearly between it's legs, reminds him of bradley - which would make him laugh if the reality of his situation weren't so dire... he lowers his hand towards the cat this night, but it startles and runs away... weeks later, after a few more cans of food, the cat starts warming up to benson, and he's able to gently smooth the fur along it's back... while he doesn't usually talk to the cat aloud, somewhere along the line, the name "bradley" sticks, and so does bradley (the cat)...
bradley (the cat) is actually female... she was fixed at some point, but benson doesn't know this, and he never thought to question if the cat he thought was male, actually was... bradley (the cat) starts rubbing along the back of his legs when he comes home after his shifts... sometimes, he'll pet her as he sits on the porch to smoke... she tried licking the salt off his fingers, once, and it grossed him out, so he always drags his hands against his work pants before he pets her... he likes thumbing over the "m" on her forehead... he lets her sleep in his room sometimes, either when the weather's bad or he wants the company, but he always puts her back out by the morning, which seems to work for her fine... he knows he wants to bring her in, eventually, but he's dreading the vet bill that would come with it, and he's sure his mom will have something to say about having a cat in the house...
bradley (the cat) comes up to benson when he's forcing randy into his house... he pushes her away with his calf, closing the door between her and randy, because now's not a good time, but he sees her watching them from the porch as they're getting ready to leave and - fuck! he can't leave her..! he tells randy to stay there, don't fucking move, as he picks her up from the porch and drops her in his lap before he starts the car... bradley (the cat) takes to the moving car better than benson anticipated, and randy slowly starts petting her when it becomes clear she won't be moving any time soon... eventually, benson watches randy's shoulders subtly relax from the corner of his eye... his shoulders relax, too... after a while, randy finds the courage to break the silence and ask what's her name? to which benson barks out a laugh before casting them a sideways glance. he's not a- the cat's not a- he hesitates, looking at bradley (the cat) as if he's seeing her for the first time, before staring back at the road with a crease drawn between his brows. don't worry about it...
bradley (the cat) escapes at the gas station while randy is pumping gas... did benson not close his door all the way..? did randy open the door just enough, with the hopes she would run away from them as far as she could..? benson watches her escape as he's leaving the gas station with cat food and cigarettes, yelling fuck! bradley! as he throws the cans at the ground... randy thinks he was yelling at him...
buying my unrequited work crush turned hostage & inadvertent accomplice of my killing spree a cinnamon bun on our first diner date and then giving it to my mother when he doesn't eat it because i'm #not the man he wants, but the man he needs. the passenger (2023): worst prolonged gay errand date EVER!
yeah babe. yeah no, it makes total sense that you would watch secretary (2002) and think about nbc's hannibal (2013-2015). yeah, besides the fact jeremy davies also plays a guy named peter in it, which is just a coincidence.
the scene where edward instructs lee to remain at his desk, where she's visited by everyone who knows her until she's relieved, could absolutely translate in a hannibal fanfiction as will experiencing a dissociative episode in hannibal's office during season one (please advise on the use of this term). yeah, and because will's planted his palms to the surface of hannibal's desk - rigid, distressed, inconsistently responsive, clearly immersed in some internal process not unlike his designs with no discernable ability of moving any time soon - hannibal has to call jack and tell him that will's overwhelmed. at the time of his appointment, he muttered a cursory greeting to him at the door before going straight to his desk as if he belonged there. pushing his chair back, placing his hands down, eyes racing across the grain, sweat budding from his forehead, silently agonizing…
and jack asks why now? will wasn't any more encumbered at today's crime scene than the rest. what precipitated this, doctor? and hannibal surmises his office is the only place will feels secure enough to process his work beyond composure or articulation. he's caught in the throes of the countless, dreadful sights you make him see, jack - and not only see, but feel. the boundaries between himself and the killers you've asked him to know as intimately as he knows himself have eroded. at his most vulnerable, will recognizes my office as a secure environment for him to ground himself. this is an act of restoration. and jack, guiltily, states that will can't possibly stay in hannibal's office overnight or - if he doesn't come to before then - tomorrow, when hannibal has clients to meet, but hannibal insists he can adapt. forcibly removing will from his desk could disrupt the precious progress he's made towards finding himself among the monsters standing beside him. he doesn't mind. ever the dutiful, good doctor.
hannibal would indulge in this circumstance. for will to deliver himself to his office in his current state was an unforeseen gift, one he intends on relishing. so, after a period of thoughtful observation, maybe after completing his notes for the day, he begins to close his office for the night. drawing the curtains, fluffing the pillow on the chaise lounge, returning a stray book to one of his bookshelves, pulling the chairs back, before he makes his way back to will. years later, maybe will would sardonically quip that he was practically giftwrapped, waiting for hannibal at his desk, but not tonight. hannibal sets about cleansing his face, gently wiping away the sweat clinging to his pores with a damp cloth, pushing his hair away from his forehead, enjoying their rare proximity. maybe will tensed when the cloth initially touched him, eyes darting up to stare distantly, mistrustingly in hannibal's direction, but the cool sensation against his skin was relieving. hannibal subtly grins as will's eyes sink back down to the desk. maybe he keeps the cloth on his desk in a small dish, next to a glass of water in case will wants to use it when he recovers. maybe he grazes the side of will's cheek with his knuckles, shameless yet fleeting, before he sets the cloth down.
hannibal leaves will in his office that night, having retrieved the keys from his pocket with the promise of taking care of his dogs. as he turns the lights off, standing in the open doorway, he commits the sight of will to memory. an obscure, tempting thing, barely visible from the light creeping in the entry. will kept safe and sound in the dark of his domain. does hannibal sleep at will's house that night, since the dogs also need to be taken care of in the morning? does he sleep in will's bed, in his place, contemplating their reversal as he drifts to sleep?
visits from jack and alana ensue the next day. hannibal could hold the sessions he wasn't able to reschedule over skype, claiming his office was professionally cleaned overnight and lingering smells from the cleaning products were too potent as he relocates to the lobby. such is the risk one invites when deviating from the familiar, be it embracing opportunities for personal growth or something as unremarkable as changing your cleaning service. while risk-taking can result in failure, it can also prove to be extremely rewarding. have you allowed yourself to assume risks as you develop a more comprehensive understanding of yourself? if he were to indulge in will's presence without restraint, maybe he would have sat at the table behind his desk, in the corner of his office near the door & bookshelf - if only blatantly violating patient confidentiality in front of will wouldn't have drawn undesirable reproach and scrutiny from him.
hi simblr! i'm currently working on a design for a project. i love this paper advertisement for the sims 2, and because so much of the advertisement would be lost by cropping it to fit the wider dimensions of my project - i had to get creative in filling the empty space along the left.
i'm inexperienced with graphic design. the background was accomplished by cropping the advertisement's background & patchworking it together till it looked somewhat natural. feedback on which version you prefer & how to blur or color-match visual irregularities (using the free version of canva and/or a comparable service) would be greatly appreciated! (poll on preferred version included below cut).
which version of the design appeals to you the most?
therapist who i trust and admire has assigned me the mirror exercise (i will commit to it as part of my therapy and discuss anything it brings up for me at my next appointment).
"a veil will now forever separate our union. but it is a thin veil, and i'm always on the other side, face pressed up against your longing." i think i'm going to faint.
liking the "outcast with a camera" archetype is all good and well till you think "gary barkovitch would have ended up just like adam stanheight in that bathroom" and your mind fills in that dr. lawrence gordon shaped gap with billy stebbins, a medical student with a promising future ahead of him whose burgeoning infidelity draws him into his father's snare, shackled across an uncannily familiar face with wide eyes darting across the room like startled prey yanked from a waterlogged burrow...
this post has been sitting in my drafts for a few days now and while i'm still intrigued by the idea, i'm running out of steam when it comes to writing about it & want to share my notes for this au because it may rot in stagnation otherwise! (like my good friend, adam stanheight.)
one of the first things i wrote was "billy, the dutiful son - if not for the major, the mother" because my characterization of him for this au leans on his commitment to an ideal that he believes will totally fulfill him, in which there's no allowance for doubt or change. this is the course he charted, so it must be satisfied; billy must succeed at any and all costs, and his success has a precise definition; to deviate from this ideal or experience shortcomings in his accomplishment of it constitutes failure. he never met his father, but he remembers his mother's fraught, pained smile the first time he asked about him. he never asked again. from an early age, maybe he became aware of a void in his life that he was never able to fill, and a sense of apathy from this dearth resurfaces in adulthood. while his stepfather would come to uphold the mantle of a father figure, he was only present in his and his mother's lives for a few, short years. in the wake of his fatal car accident, they received a wrongful death settlement that saved them from financial ruin, but the turmoil was already done.
billy's commitment to becoming a medical doctor is either contingent on this experience - were he and his mother present for the accident? he wants to specialize in emergency medicine to save households from fracturing like his - or his mother receiving a cancer diagnosis when he's in high school - which honors dr. gordon's specialization in oncology & a similar headcanon featured in UnlicensedDetective's and i'm just a dog on ao3; if you happen to see this, thanks for sharing your work! he's a model student, probably a student-athlete, which allows the financial award from the settlement to stretch as far as it can when it comes to funding med school. he entered his first serious relationship in undergrad and proposed after graduation. in the current day, he and his fiancée live together while she works full-time and he's doing clinical rotations & preparing for his exams. as stretched thin as he is by his work, his mother's pride makes it all worth it; if her cancer isn't in remission, he feels an emphasized sense of urgency to graduate, secure his residency, get married, etc., as soon as possible for her to experience the fulfillment of his milestones.
billy's burnt out. malaise sinks in. his fiancée's work and family often require her to fly-out for days at a time. he wants to experience sensations that break the monotony of what's become his day-to-day life. when contemplating sensation, he thinks of pleasure, and the novel sexual pleasures he hasn't experienced. this is his foray into infidelity. he justifies it to himself because he remains committed to materially providing his fiancée the life and eventual marriage she deserves. he'll also continue to be his mother's pride and joy through his professional accomplishment. this momentary unfaithfulness, ultimately, doesn't interfere with his goals. it won't be long-term; it's a secret no one will know about. he would be doing more harm unto himself if he were to sneak an occasional cigarette. this doesn't change who billy is, it's just something he's doing for the time being to get by.
he doesn't want to risk the receipts of a dating app. he drives to the next major city for the seedier bars and clubs where he's less likely to be recognized & where he can hook-up with women he'll, preferably, never see again. by the first time gary notices him, this is maybe his third, fourth hookup, but this is his first time going back to one of their places. gary's locking the door to his apartment as he sees his neighbor approaching with billy in tow, casting him a sidelong glance and committing his face to memory as she pulls him inside when he passes them down the hallway. when gary returns, he hears the tearful, volatile argument she's having with her on-again, off-again boyfriend through the walls. he doesn't know that billy left the apartment with a blooming bruise on his cheek, which he told his fiancée he got during his friday shift. his coworkers were too intimidated to ask where it came from. a few days later, gary runs into his neighbor's boyfriend on the street who says that she mentioned he saw them in the hallway together that night & asks gary to tell him if he sees billy around again. while he knows better than to involve himself in their dysfunction, gary noncommittally agrees.
weeks later, with his bruise cleared up, billy's at another club, surveying the crowd. he idly swirls his drink in his hand as he watches two men grind against each other within the swarm of moving bodies on the dancefloor. while he began noticing guys his age in locker rooms as a teenager, pursuing his attraction to them seemed unwise. it was an aspect of himself he readily repressed in the name of preserving his mother's pride - but what she doesn't know, won't hurt her. he allows himself to inspect the men in the room, their corded forearms, the backs of their shirts pulled taut against their shoulder blades, the thick lobes of their ears, the stubble creeping down their necks. he's pulled out of his thoughts when he senses he's being watched, raising his glass to his lips as he scans the room. he meets the prying aegean blue eyes of a young man in the distance with unkempt blond hair skimming the planes of his winding shoulders, reedy frame swallowed by the twisting forms of the crowd. intrigued, billy wonders when he'll look away before a woman bumps against his arm, acknowledging her with a glance as she apologizes before looking back to find the man disappeared. as the woman touches his arm again, staring up at him with glossed lips and curled lashes, he shifts his attention back to her with a renewed focus. they leave the club together, billy renting a hotel room, paying in cash. he fails to notice the dingy car trailing him all the way back home.
since their first encounter, if you could call it that, gary lost his job after a physical altercation with a coworker that cost him his only reliable income. his freelance photography struggled to pay the bills, but fanning the flames of an unhealthy obsession lent him leverage, a bargaining chip, to skate by till he found other work. he approaches his neighbor's boyfriend the next night, saying he needs help with a plumbing issue in his apartment & handing him an envelope by his sink, saying they can negotiate his rate. he obviously doesn't live around here. doesn't your girl have friends who go to this club? isn't this guy too close for fucking comfort? they come to an agreement, gary suckering him out of a few more bills by claiming his cell's busted and he'd need a way to contact him if billy shows up in the area again. billy never returns to the apartment and gary has a good thing going, following not-too-closely in his footsteps, till they're abducted for their game.
here's where my handwriting gets sloppy! the major becomes this universe's john kramer. i'm tempted for his alias to remain the major, perhaps because of the distinctly militant tone & language used in the tapes in tandem with the crudely furnished dog tags he leaves at every scene. if billy specializes in emergency medicine, kramer's colon cancer diagnosis could be kept intact for the major, although i'd be interested in recharacterizing his condition as lung cancer to satisfy my own belief he'd have an extensive history of smoking. if billy specializes in oncology because of his mother, the major would be diagnosed with a separate terminal condition (perhaps some kind of organ failure?). i'm disinterested in working out his storyline at the moment, but he named billy the puppet after his son. if he has multiple illegitimate children, he wanted to peer into all their lives before his health worsened. billy's infidelity proved he was a bad seed, and thus, the major's rationale for designing his game. he discovered gary the same way kramer discovered adam in the films. if billy comes to occupy similar roles to lawrence & amanda after his game, i think the major would withhold his identity as his father. billy would have continued to deify him regardless. the major's engineering is significantly more homemade than kramer's. billy's work would be, comparatively, more polished. billy crafts mechanical rabbits in the workshop to pass the time. every so often, he thinks about gary and how he couldn't save him.
hey. if i said say it ain't so by weezer came on a playlist i was listening to earlier & the "wrestle with jimmy" line reminded me of tangential information i've heard of jimmy owen's character (as someone who hasn't read the book) - would this mean anything to anyone wiser than me?
