I'm doing a fucking somersault into your asks about the bloodymary pacrim au
THERES SO MANY WAYS YOU COULD TAKE IT PLEASE SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS
OK OK OK
We (me and @kitkatistraumatized) are SO all over the place in how we’re planning it this literally all started because i accidentally said “project rim” when trying to talk about pacific rim this morning and then my friend couldn’t stop thinking about project Hail Mary x pacific rim (and then I said what if we. Made it Bloody Mary)
we’re going to have a plan SOON but the basic details !!!:
Ryland Grace is some sort of biologist still (like macro biologist because you’ll see in a second)
Grace is forcibly sent on a 3 person jaeger out into space and then has to operate it alone until Rocky (keeping the deaths canon 💔)
Dubois and Shapiro (The original scientists who were going to be sent) had a jaeger that got destroyed (? We’re still fleshing it out) and so Grace has the whole “but I’m not a jaeger operator I’m not that guy” and Stratt is like “well. Sucks to be you I guess” and boots him off
The jaeger WILL be called Hail Mary because it’s such a good name and Mary and Armando will still be in their respective roles
Ok I’m DEFINITELY not the person to be explaining this part (my friend is on TOP of the kaiju/astrophage deal) but from what I gathered in our insane back and forth:
Astrophage is no longer small (that’s why I was thinking Grace is macro biologist) though it’s essentially the same concept of feeding on the stars for fuel but it’s just a lot larger and less condensed - we’re still figuring out like fuel and how it’s operating if adult astrophage are huge but
- we have a LOT of thoughts on how it came to be and how maybe we relate it to Simons whole deal of joining this universe but we actually have to like think this through
- we’re still fleshing out the taumoeba deal because there’s a lot that needs changing when considering how to scale everything up by like 20x
There isn’t likely going to be many if any actual pacific rim characters in this, maybe mentions ?
As of right now we’re thinking of making this a comic (because I want to draw a Bloody Mary comic and my friend wants to draw the big ass astrophage) but that may be subject to change !
It’ll also take us a bit to get this all plotted and down somewhere just due to finals and end of school assignments and lowkey we’re about to hit the stress summer so 💔💔
More details will be added once we figure things out! Or it’ll be kept a secret because it’s plot important
whatever you do at the crossroads, keep moving forward.
web weave on sfawtde/dawtde by wifies, which WRECKED me </3 what to do when you find each other too late and lose each other too early, when saving him dooms him at the same time...
---
credits:
asofterworld, #400 || destroying a world that doesn't exist || come home with me (reprise) - hadestown || @/kafk-a || destroying a world that doesn't exist || the worm king's lullaby || destroying a world that doesn't exist || @/starpeace || destroying a world that doesn't exist || @/pencap || destroying a world that doesn't exist || eurydice, sarah ruhl || inkpot gods, the amazing devil || orestes, euripides (tr. anne carson) || destroying a world that doesn't exist || orestes, euripides (tr. anne carson) || inkpot gods, the amazing devil || destroying a world that doesn't exist || little weirds, jenny slate || i do not love you except because i love you, pablo neruda || destroying a world that doesn't exist || asofterworld, #400 || destroying a world that doesn't exist
I keep thinking about D3rlord3 saying Avery “showed him all the beauty of the universe” and going a little insane over it because what do you MEAN all the beauty of the universe. You have seen everything. You have brushed up against infinity. You have knowledge beyond human scale. And your conclusion is still this spectacularly lonely loser (I mean that with all the love in my heart), made your existence beautiful again.
I'M DISTRAUGHT. The tragedy isn’t even that they met. It's that d3rlord3 had the capacity to understand infinity, but only learned how to value something finite right before he died. And of course it had to be another loser. Of course it had to be someone equally out of place and equally lonely and not built for any of this. The worst part about their dynamic is that if they had met earlier, it might have saved him. And if they had met later, it might have destroyed Avery too, but they met at the exact point where d3rlord was already too far gone—the ONLY possible moment where love could not save them.
(I need everyone to be sicker about them immediately.)
If you really need a visual of what the light magic looks like its the light balls from the owl house that luz makes i love that show i have to rewatch it soon
like i said i think in a cryptid sighting a/n i put a lot of myself into the reader inserts so if youre a morning person my bad but i need the mean
this is like a medium burn because i dont love slow burns but i hate fast burns so we're putting this baby on medium heat and letting em simmer (I love the trope of deep yearner but doesn't show it vs oblivious fuck so I WILL be implementing that)
im really trying to keep these notes relevant i had to remove my bit about comic sans vs comic neue </3
i had to use a castle coloring book to tell me the anatomy of a castle its a really detailed coloring book ok
my notes for this chapter was like the vaguest 3 lines vs like 30 detailed bits for chapter 2 which is even funnier when i see that my chapter 2 draft was 5k words vs my 8k words draft for chapter 3
Waking up the next morning was no difficult feat, considering how you jolt awake, hands clenching tightly around the sheets beside you as you stare up at the white ceiling, heart beating with deep breaths in and out. Whatever plagued your dreams is long forgotten now, leaving you with that sense of anticipatory dread, a feeling familiar to you.
Not get up until after a full nights rest, my ass, you think to yourself. Your vision sharpens as you blink a couple times, drowsiness slowly leaving you as you sit up and begin to trudge out of bed.
Where sunlight would normally brighten up the whole room, it was left dim from storm clouds, so you stumble through your room before your eyes properly adjust and you exit.
The cool air of the cottage hallways don't wake you up any more, and neither does the sight of your pal in the skull mask as you walk into the living room. Ghost turns to look at you at the sound of your footsteps, having been staring off into the distance at the rain outside. He still sits in the loveseat you found him sitting in last night, with a hand clasped over the little ball of light you left him with, rolling it around in his palm until you walked in. A mug rests on the windowsill, steam slowly curling out into the air.
You stop just past the doorway into the room, glaring out the window at the rain like you had a bone to pick before sighing and going to the kitchen.
"Not much o' a mornin' person?" Ghost raises his mask to rest on the bridge of his nose, letting go of the light to grab the mug.
"Choke on shit." You grunt out, beginning to make yourself breakfast.
You can't see the slight smirk hidden behind the rim of his mug. A loud slurp follows, and you almost throw a fork straight at his stupid skull mask.
A LATER MORNING:
"So, you can't tell me anything?"
"No."
You groan.
The two of you now sit in the living room of the cottage, the falling of the rain outside harmonizing with the crackling of the fire to create a warm, soft background noise to the conversation that has been going in circles for at least 10 minutes now. Ghost vehemently refuses to tell you anything about the 141, or where you'll be going in 2 days, and you refuse to give up on asking him for something more.
You two really do act like an immovable object versus an unstoppable force (some might say you bicker more like an old married couple). It ends up making effective conversations difficult most of the time.
"So, let us go over this. I'm supposed to blindly guide us to your base, knowing nothing about you, your teammates, or even how to get there," Ghost stands and walks over to the bookshelf, but you continue. "And you expect me to be fine with that?"
"Ever 'eard of trust?" Ghost looks over his shoulder at you and shrugs.
"That's so funny coming from you."
Ghost rolls his eyes at your sarcasm. He turns back around and makes a show out of thumbing through the books, not wanting to entertain your curiosity any further.
"Shouldn't I at least know the way? Or anything about the rest of the 141? Or even anything about you?"
"You'll be fine." He slides a book out and sits down again, opening it up over a crossed leg, shutting you out.
You throw your hands up and stand, grumbling about him being a stubborn asshole under your breath as you walk into the kitchen to grab Favour's feed.
It isn't even midday yet and you're already itching to leave.
MIDDAY:
Update - You still want to get out of here.
There isn't a whole lot to do in the cabin. Whatever this place was — likely just a safe house for the 141 — it was clear it was meant to just be a spot to recuperate, get some sleep for a night, and be on your way in the morning.
That's not the situation your find yourself in right now. The rain wasn't letting up, meaning you were stuck inside unless you wanted to deal with soaked clothes, and you went through pretty much the entire cabin (besides for the room Ghost was sleeping in — or supposed to be sleeping in. You're not sure he sleeps often.) in less than 30 minutes.
Time seemed to go on forever when you anticipated leaving. It also seemed to go on forever when you were constantly at wits end with the only other person around for ages.
Any sort of mystique that still surrounded him from rumors or from silent idolization of such a figure that strikes fear into the hearts of corrupt royals and hope into the hearts of peasants was gone by this point. You held onto it for long enough, figuring that the small cabin would force some sort of amicable relation between the two of you.
You figured wrong.
At every turn, he snarks you, and you honestly can't tell when he's being serious or just an ass anymore because his stupid tone doesn't change one bit. That stupid, thick, Northern English accent that makes you want to strangle him when you have to decipher what he's grunting at you from across the room.
You're starting to think you should've listened to Ghost when he said that you're not sticking together, back at that Bloodworth castle. At least then, you could've run away from the repercussions of killing a king without having to deal with some prick with a problem with disclosing important information.
And, sure, you probably aren't helping. Your pestering him with sass and begging for details definitely haven't gotten you anywhere, especially not in these circumstances, but what else can you do? You're really just being dragged from place to place with no real clue on what's going on.
Though, on the topic of not knowing what's going on, you haven't heard much from Ghost in the last couple of hours. You think you heard the front door open and close during your search of the cabin, right around when the rain started to clear up. Now, the rain is steadily coming back and you haven't seen him nearby.
You'll have to go feed Favour in a couple of hours. You sigh and hope the rain slows down.
EVENING:
You find out where Ghost ended up going when you head outside to feed Favour.
The rain hadn't slowed down, a steady rainfall to pair with the winds ruffling the tree tops. You pour out Favour's food into a bowl on the straw floor and scatter a handful out onto the gate's ledge for Ryder. After hoisting the bag back up and getting ready to dash through the rain again, you stop when you notice movement from the treeline.
Your free hand jumps to the hilt of your dagger, tucked away in its sheath on your belt, but you stop once your gaze catches the stark white skull mask. Your brows furrow as you take in Ghost's figure.
He looks like he's close to being completely soaked through, his wet shirt clinging to his chest as he breathes in deeply but as steadily as he can. His shoulders were drawn in and tense, though you can't really say that's any different from how he carries himself normally. Your focus drifts from the condition of his clothes to what he was stiffly cradling in his arm, only finding yourself more confused when you see that it's a red fox. In his other hand, he holds a dead mountain hare up by it's ears.
You open your mouth, possibly to ask what the fuck has he been up to, but Ghost spots you and shuts you up with a dead stare.
"None o' tha'." He jerks his head to the door before walking past you. "Inside."
With a bit of a struggle, Ghost opens the front door with his free hand (the one holding up the fox). You follow him in, shutting the door behind yourself before setting the feed down. You find him at the kitchen counter, the dead hare off to the side of where he was standing, but you glaze over that in favor of looking at the fox he was gingerly setting down.
The fox really doesn't look good. It's breathing is heavy, eyes wide and frantically looking around with small whines leaving it with every twitch of it's legs. The legs are heavily chewed on and there's a deep bite surrounding the neck, blood slowly staining the wet fur a deeper crimson.
"Found this 'un tusslin' wit' a wolf, out by th'stream. Think she's jus' waitin' for a chance t' bite me. Went limp the moment I picked 'er up." Ghost tries lifting one of her legs to see if there's any more damage to her, but she yips and curls her paw in quickly.
"She's not going to get any better if you keep prodding." You step up beside Ghost and make a shooing motion at him, but he doesn't move.
"I can 'andle it." He pulls his shoulders back, standing up taller to reaffirm his position over you. His intimidation tactics have less of an effect on you when he's drenched from head to toe.
"You can handle getting out of your wet clothes. You're dripping all over the place." He looks down, like he just noticed that himself. He grunts, reluctantly stepping back and letting you take over.
As Ghost changes, you begin to clean up the fox, thankful that all of the injuries were just a lot of small, skin deep ones instead of being something major like a broken bone or a heavily bleeding gash. She yips a couple of times, almost biting your hand when you first reach out, but letting her adjust to you and being touched finally relaxed her enough for you to work on patching her up undisturbed.
By the time Ghost comes back, you've managed to wrap up her legs and are in the middle of making sure all of the bleeding around her neck had stopped. You can feel him step up behind you and half of the light from the lantern hanging above is blocked out by his shadow. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end, like some sort of twisted alert system to the danger the man behind you radiates around him.
"Move over, I can't see what I'm doing." A breath, then the shadow moves a step to your right, covering the rest of the light over your head.
You clench your jaw, but instead of retaliating, you cup your hands in front of your face once more, breathing light into your palms. You pinch the ball of light with both hands, squishing it apart to become two smaller lights, floating them above either side of the fox to cast a warm glow above her.
Ghost says nothing, but the fox laying on the kitchen counter tries to move her head up to sniff at the floating ball of light, only to whine when lifting her head even slightly agitates the bite. She quiets as you coo at her, running a hand through her fur while you gently apply a healing salve to the open wound.
You set the glass bottle down with a clink, pressing the stopper back into place before reaching for where you put the bandages. When your hand meets cold counter, you look over, finding that Ghost was holding it out for you instead. You take the bandages with a small "Thank you." and lift the fox's head up, wrapping the gauze around her neck.
You lay her head down again once the bite is fully wrapped up, loose enough to not restrict breathing. Ghost finally steps away from behind you, the space he once occupied now colder without him.
"Why were you even out there?" You drag one of the lights over to the tip of the fox's nose, letting her explore such a curious sight.
"Was huntin'." He lays out a cutting board and places the hare he came in with earlier on top, taking a sharp knife out from the block. You look over at him, watching as he makes careful cuts to the dead animal.
"I was going—"
"No." Ghost keeps his head down, focused on taking off the hide as carefully as he can. "You go deal wit' 'er. I'll do this."
You pause, looking up from his hands to his mask, the lantern casting a soft light over the harsh planes of the skull mask he adorns. Eventually, you nod and look away, going back to the injured fox.
You lift her up into your arms as gently as you can and bring her to the living room, setting her down on top of a folded blanket left on the couch. You sit down beside her, letting her sniff your hand before gently stroking the top of her head. From where you now sit, you can partially see what he was doing, handling the butchering process like he's been doing this for years.
When you hear a break in the knife meeting the wooden block, you focus again to see him fussing with the lights you made. He cups a light in each hand and pushes them together, ending up with a singular bright light once more. Ghost squishes the ball twice, like he's trying to figure out it's material, before letting it float above his work.
If you zoned out hard enough, it was almost like you were an average family in the towns and kingdoms that you passed by. A family pet, someone carefully providing a home cooked meal while the other has the privilege of getting lost in thought.
You blink out of your daydream.
NIGHT:
After cutting up the hare, Ghost made the two of you a stew and fed the fox some extra scraps as her dinner before preserving the leftovers for later with salt.
You bid each other goodnight, and after you squish out the light you made in the kitchen, you check on the fox, swaddling her up tight in the blanket you laid her on to make sure she won't move around too much while you and Ghost slept (you didn't want to wake up to a destroyed cabin and an even more injured fox).
You change into more comfortable clothes once in your room and lay down under the sheets, staring up at that white ceiling again.
You suppose that you and Ghost are now co-parenting a fox he found in the forest. What an outcome.
Not too long after, sleep finds you, leaving you vulnerable to the night.
DAY TWO - MORNING:
After a fitful sleep with more tossing and turning than you'd like to admit, you finally slump out of bed once the world lights up enough behind the heavy rainfall.
Just like the day prior, Ghost is awake seemingly long before you manage to find your way through the small cottage. Also like the day prior, it was not the type of morning you wanted to be dealing with this early.
Ghost eventually follows you into the kitchen, where you started to make some porridge with the hopes that the bread you brought with you was not yet too stale. He stands at the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, sipping on whatever tea he managed to buy back in Finbury, and watching the fox bask in the warm glow of the sunlight peeking out from behind storm clouds.
"Can you hand me the bowls?" You hold out your hand not stirring the pot.
An obnoxiously loud sip (or maybe it's a normal sip that just sounds louder because there wasn't much else making noise around you) follows, but you hear no footsteps nor an answer.
You breathe in slow and bite your tongue.
Why did I help him again? You ask yourself, but you already know the answer. Younger you (and by younger, you mean 4 days younger you) would have killed to be able to work with Ghost — and killed you have, you suppose.
You step away from the pot and grab the bowls from the cabinet yourself, placing them on the counter before turning on your heel to walk straight past Ghost to the bag of grain.
You heft the bag into your arms and march over to Ghost, shoving the burlap sack into his arms instead.
"Go feed Favour." You take his mug from him so he doesn't spill on either of you two.
"Wot—"
"Go feed the fucking horse, Ghost." Like how Ghost makes himself have the final say through his blunt tone, yours leave no wiggle room for arguing. You just need a moment to yourself, a moment for you to breathe freely without Ghost's eyes staring you down from wherever he perches himself.
You hear a huff before Ghost's footsteps back away from the kitchen, and the sound of the front door opening and closing.
Good. One less thing to bicker over.
You finish up the porridge, putting the steaming bowls out onto the table to let it cool away from the warmer kitchen. Looking into the pantry with the stocked up food, you grab the bread, thankfully finding it not completely rock hard, and some berries with a chunk of meat for the fox.
You step out of the dim kitchen and into the living room, crouching beside where the injured fox was sunbathing. She yips a couple of times, sniffing around for you to find where you were holding the food. As carefully as you can, you feed her, making sure your fingers weren't nipped at. The fox relaxes again, not moving while you get up and get some more gauze, replacing the bandages you placed yesterday with new ones.
She breathes out a sigh when you finally set her head down, her eyes closing when you stroke over her soft, red coat.
"Is it bedtime now?" You smile, watching the fox curl her tail over her for added warmth before relaxing.
You let her rest there, standing up to go back to the kitchen. You cut off two slices from the bread and wrap it back up, sitting down without sparing any time to see when Ghost would come back in — though as you sit, the front door creaks again. Ghost walks past you to put the feed away before sitting down across from you.
You try not to watch him as he eats, but the way he hovered around the bowl like he was trying to protect it from you while also keeping himself tucked in to hide his partially exposed face earned him a look or two. That's completely ignoring the fact that he was eating the breakfast like he was starved for a meal — even though the two of you had eaten likely more than enough last night, and you surely didn't feel any more hungry than you would normally. You hadn't really noticed any of this before but, by some random chance, it stood out to you now, of all times.
He finishes eating just after you stand up, and you take the chance to take his bowl from him, his hand lifting from where it was planted before to move his mask back into place. You don't see it as you grab the bowl and turn, but as your hand passed his face, Ghost almost flinched back, his hand quickly holding the mask in place. He says nothing for a moment while you wash the bowls but stares with an alert gaze.
"Y're strange, y'know tha'?" He grunts out, sounding unaffected.
"So are you." You retort and end it there, just letting the sound of you cleaning the ceramic bowls fill the space between you.
You hear his chair scrape against the wood floor, his steps going back through the living room to the front door, leaving you alone in the quiet cabin.
With the fox now presumably dead asleep, and with Ghost fucking off somewhere to do his own thing, you look around the cabin for something to occupy your time alone as you leave the bowls out on a towel to dry.
Thinking back on it, you're sure you saw that the hare pelt Ghost had prepared last night could be worked on. You're also sure you saw a frayed trapper hat that looked like it was well past retirement.
EVENING:
Like the day prior, you don't see Ghost again until you go out to feed the animals.
You don't see him sneak up behind you, but you hear his purposeful steps crunching against the fallen autumn leaves, some of the drier ones beneath the shed's roof crackling loudly under Ghost's heavy boots.
You look over your shoulder to see Ghost leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and his silhouette darkened by the sun setting over his back.
"'ave you see the 'are pelt I 'ad last nigh'?" You look at him like he just spoke a different language. You would have needed him to repeat himself if you hadn't been able to catch "pelt" and "last night".
"No." You face him fully, resting the bag of grain on the gate. "I didn't see where you put it." A bold faced lie, but you can't just spill all of your secrets out to him.
Ghost nods, gaze flitting down to watch his bird peck at a corner of the bag.
"Y'said y'wanted t'know more abou' me?" He asks.
Ghost's eyes meet yours again and you hold it for a moment before turning back around, shaking out some feed for your horse.
"I want to know anything more than the snippets I've gotten these past couple of days." You grab a handful of grain from the bag, dropping it on the gate for Ryder to peck from.
"A secret f'r a secret then, aye?" You look at him again but say nothing, waiting for him to finish what he was proposing.
"You tell me 'bout y'r magic, I tell you 'bout the 141." Ghost stands up straight and moves, now standing beside you with his arms resting on the stable gate. "Simple."
You close up the bag of grain, setting it down on the straw floor.
"What do you want to know about it?" You reach out and run your hand through Favour's mane, brows furrowed.
"Anythin'." You can see him staring at you, dropping his head a little like he was trying to catch a glimpse of your face. "Were y'born wit' it?"
"It's…" You pause, trying to find the right words.
"The ability to use magic gets passed down from parent to child, or from mentor to trainee. There's a ceremony where the parent or teacher will 'breathe' life into the magic resting within a baby or student by sending a shock of their own magic through them." You put air quotes around 'breathe' before letting your arms hang down again. "It's called the 'Heart of Magic' ceremony, since it's like manually pumping a heart."
"So how'd you end up killin' kings?" You meet his eyes.
"You said a secret for a secret."
"Tha' was 'ardly a secret, aye?"
You sigh and turn forward again, thinking over how much you want to tell him.
"I grew up in a dying kingdom. The rulers there didn't do much to help their people, and soon enough, the townsfolk I grew up with started moving away for a better future than our home was promising. My parents didn't want to move away before I was of age — they said it was bad to stress before you could get a full grasp of your magic. But we had no choice. We couldn't sustain a good quality of life when there were maybe a handful of other people in our town, just barely scraping by alongside us.
"So we left. We moved north, eventually settling down at the edge of a kingdom where we knew nothing about anything. We didn't know any of the people, didn't know the towns, and never heard of the ruling family there. That, on top of the difference of accents, immediately outed us as foreigners. Strangers.
"We were maybe there for a year before rumors started. I was still too young to move out, and too young to be allowed out alone in a kingdom where we didn't know how they treated magic wielders. It's still weird to me, how someone could hate another human just for being different, but that's besides the point.
"I was practicing one day when I saw someone out in the forest behind our house. I guess the towns people caught wind that it was more than just my parents living there, and thought maybe I was kidnapped or something, since they never spoke of me in the rare interactions they had with the public of the kingdom.
"I don't know how long they had seen me practicing magic, but I heard a gasp and running. As soon as my parents got home, and heard about it, they knew it wouldn't be long before we were alienated. Picked apart from the rest of the people and seen as different. They just hoped we could hold onto that little house at the edge of the kingdom for just a little while longer.
"Nothing happened for a while. Your guess is about as good as mine on what happened between them seeing me and the rest of the kingdom knowing. A couple of months went by before my parents started getting dirty looks in town. A couple more went by before the King's advisor mentioned that a witch family lived in his kingdom, without his knowing.”
You pause, noticing how the world quieted around you the longer you spoke. Your mouth felt dry, but you took a deep breath in and continued on all the same.
"Now, this King — and I'll never forget his name, so long as I live and breathe — King Riley, was already a corrupt bastard. He treated his own family bad, and he treated the poor worse. Starvation was the future for anyone not wealthy — or worthy — enough to leave near the kingdom's capital. People were dragged away in the streets almost daily, for what reasons I'll never know.
"When King Riley got word of my family living in his kingdom, on his land, he led a riot. I think that was the only known instance of the King leaving his castle to travel within his own kingdom, especially to those outer reaches.
"Lights burned bright that night. The glint of swords in blazing torch light and those angry mob's faces could be seen from the other side of the country, if you looked hard enough. The King, in all of his golden glory, was dressed in a knight's breastplate, and was flanked by his special police on all sides. It was like watching the sun rise, lighting up the ground before it, but from the north and with screaming cries of passion and anger instead of bird song.
"We moved as fast as we could. My parents suspected something of this nature would happen soon, just not to the magnitude we saw. We left through the back as quickly as we could, but I could still hear those shouts of victory as I watched, while being dragged away, another home be abandoned, lit up in flames, broken into, and smashed apart.
"That was my first experience with royal corruption. The other kingdoms we lived in from time to time were better, but not by much. Towns people thought witches weren't to be trusted. Royals barely let us live on their land freely. Kings thought we were the rocks under the dirt under their polished shoes, just another group of people to step all over, just like their own people.
"That kingdom, the rioting one, fell under a year later. I heard about it as soon as it happened, that a rebel came through and took down that corrupt King single handedly. I didn't think it was possible. Hearing about that, and how the poor of the kingdom were able to move freely from the King's wealth that the rebel distributed out, it was… inspiring. It gave me hope."
You pause there, figuring you've gone on long enough to satisfy Ghost's curiosity.
At some point during your spiel, Ghost had tensed, and instead of staring straight at you like he had been, he's looking past you now with an unfocused gaze. You would've thought that he straight up stopped listening to you if you didn't notice how tense he was holding himself, his hands now gripping onto the gate with his shoulders drawn up and his back straight.
"What?" Ghost snaps out of his stupor at your voice breaking the quiet left over.
"Nothin'." Like always, he's quick to brush you off, letting go of the gate to tense and relax his hands a couple of times. His shoulders were still too stiff and he wouldn't look at you anymore. You frown.
"It's not nothing."
"I'm no' tellin' you." Annoyance bleeds into your concern.
"You said a secret for a secret. I told you what you wanted to know, now you tell me why the fuck you're acting weird." Ghost looks down at his hands and he sighs, dropping his shoulders.
"Y're a righ' prick, y'know tha'?" He looks over at you now, his tone telling you he's mad, but his eyes telling you he's… well, scared isn't the right word, but it's not a wrong word either. You wait for him to start talking.
"The… tha' kingdom y'were talkin' 'bout, the Riley king? And 'ow he treated 'is family like shit?" Ghost looks like he's trying to hold back a shit. You truly don't think this guy has ever been given the chance to drop some trauma onto someone. The venom in his voice told you he'd been harboring these emotions for a while. You nod.
He probably looks like he's about to hurl. You wouldn't know, considering he never takes off that damn mask.
In the midst of your thinking, you almost missed Ghost's quiet remark as his head drops down onto his arms, forehead to forearm, and his eyes shut tight.
"I was one o' 'is sons."
You have to stop yourself from visually reacting.
You stare at Ghost but he only lifts his head to rest his chin on his folded arms, opening his eyes to stare at Favour finishing his dinner calmly, the complete opposite to how you were reacting to this bomb drop of a background.
"Holy shit."
Ghost takes in a deep breath as you stare, standing up straighter now.
"The rebel who killed m'father was Price. 'e took me in. Let me get away from tha' cursed place. M'mum 'nd brother fled as soon as they could. Wanted nothin' to do wit' any o' it. Had nothin' to do wit' any o' it." His sentences are short and blunt, but it sounded like he was forcing the words out, and they just kept spilling and spilling out, venom spilling from his throat until it softens again and he takes a breath. "They were killed by a rival kingdom. Didn't get a proper chance t'say goodbye."
You don't know what to say to that. It's hard enough to comfort your average person, much less someone who probably hasn't let himself be vulnerable in any sense of the word in at least 5 years.
Slowly, you lay a hand out on the gate, palm facing up as a peace offering, an extended olive branch to him. Ghost straightens himself out at the movement, uncrossing his arms so it mirrored how you were standing earlier. He tilts his head down slightly, still looking at Favour circle around the stall, but his hand meets yours in the middle.
He hadn't put his gloves back on from whatever he was doing before, leaving the scars and blemishes adorning his skin uncovered. You gently hold onto his hand, tracing a scar that curled around his pinky.
Favour lays down beside the gate, turning his head up into Ghost's dangling hand. He scratches up and down and down the white streak on the horse's face, outlining how it breaks up the rest of the black hair.
"It's well 'nd over now, nothin' t'dwell on." He moves his hand away from Favour and the horse huffs, resting his head on the straw. You frown and tighten your grip momentarily.
"It's not bad to dwell on things."
"'ve got s'mthin' better t'dwell on, though." He finally looks back up and you, which only makes you more confused (you beat that tinge of hope you feel down). Ghost can see it on your face, so he continues. "The 141." You nod in understanding (after wildly misunderstanding what he meant at first).
"Price has been doin' this stuff th'longest. Kind've like our boss. Soap an' Gaz came not long after me. Gaz's th'nicest of all o'us, but tha's not sayin' a whole lot. Soap is a righ' bastard, and a pain in my arse, so you two will get along jus' fine." You give Ghost a glare and another squeeze for that remark. His eyes squint a little. You're not sure what that means just yet.
"Why were you hiding out alone at the Bloodworth castle as a knight, then?" The answer to that was pretty obvious — to get a chance to kill one of the members of the royal family — but you were really curious as to why it was just him at the castle, posing as a knight for long enough that the family trusted him.
"Drew th'short end of the stick. Gaz went on the last solo mission and Soap was makin' up some excuse 'bout not bein' 'knigh'ly enough for those righ' bawbags up on thei' lofty perches' or whatever 'e was mumblin' 'bout." Ghost does a poor impression of the presumably Scottish man (though you really can't based off of Ghost's mocking version of whatever he was doing there) "I was sent out as jus' a way of gettin' information before the rest of th'team got a good time to strike. As chance would 'ave it, I didn't 'ave to wait for orders."
"Sounds more like luck to me." You nudge his hand with your thumb.
"Don't believe in luck."
"Well, it was pretty lucky that we bumped into each other that night, no?" You slowly let go of his hand and get no objection, just Ghost staring down at his hand like he forgot where he put it. You heft up the bag of grain into your arms again.
"Tha' was by chance." He turns around now, leaning back on the gate but still facing you.
"Keep telling yourself that, Ghost." You give him a small smile and walk out the open doorway, the sun no longer lighting up the forest before you as dusk slowly turns into night.
DAY THREE - MORNING:
The sun hadn't even risen yet when you woke up to a heavy knock on your door. With a groan, both from you and the wooden frame of your bed, you get up and open the door, glaring up at the brute like you just found out he killed your horse.
"Stop glarin' so much. Y'll get wrinkles." You wonder if anyone taught him how to not be a dick, but then you remember what he told you last night and wince. No, his family probably didn't. Ghost cuts you off right as you open your mouth to reply.
"We're leavin' f'r base as soon as y're ready. Don't take f'rever." Ghost takes a step back and turns, walking away like if he'd stay any longer, you would curse him. Or maybe have him spill more trauma he hasn't addressed in years.
You turn back to face your room with a sigh. You weren't too excited at the prospect of another long, awkward, and quiet horse ride with Ghost.
A LATER MORNING:
After a little while, you stand outside, saddling up Favour and getting the bags all attached for the trip. Ghost had sent Ryder ahead of you two with a message, just a short one alerting his team of your arrival within a day or so.
Ghost brings out the last of your bags, carrying it in one hand with the bundled up fox against his other. The fox yawns and looks around with a slow turn, clearly still groggy from being woken up right as she got to sleep.
"She's still not fully healed up." You remark after turning around, watching as Ghost's eyes narrow at you.
"We're not takin' the fox wit' us." Ghost hands you the bag before kneeling down, gently putting the fox down onto the grass. He unwraps the blanket from around her and stares for a moment at her unmoving body before nudging her by poking her hind. Her leg kicks out with a small yip, but other than that, she doesn't move.
"You were the one who brought her here in the first place." Ghost turns his glare back up to you, but you know you've already one. "She's barely in a better condition then when you found her, so why leave her in the same situation you took her out of?"
He sighs and reluctantly leans back down, picking her back up and swaddling her in the blanket again.
You smile and turn back to Favour, strapping the last bag to the saddle before hoisting yourself up. Ghost steps forward and hands you the fox, and as you set her down between your legs, Ghost heaves himself up behind you, getting settled before digging into his pockets.
"Didn't you find her out by that river we passed?" You ask, as you secure her in as best as you can.
"Aye." The sound of paper unfolding follows as Ghost looks over the map.
"How 'bout that then, huh River?" You scratch behind her ears.
"Y're fuckin' namin' 'er now?"
"You're the who decided she needed saving."
"Do not put this on me now—"
"Where is it that we're going again?" You can practically feel Ghost's glare digging into the back of your head right now.
He leans forward and brings the map around, pointing to a circle that he penciled in. The location was way up north with a little dip to the east, and far enough to warrant likely 2 days of riding to get there.
"Oh, so I finally get to know where we're going?" You look over your shoulder, meeting Ghost's never ending glare with a smug glint in your eyes.
"Get a fuckin' move on." You smile and take the reins.
The day passed with little activity. You stopped a couple of times to let Favour rest and to let you and Ghost eat something, but you made sure you were still on pace to get to the rest of the 141 as soon as possible. Occasionally, Ghost would speak up to have you change direction or warn you of upcoming rivers you'd have to find a way around. Other than that, you two didn't say much to each other. River stayed asleep throughout it all, still adjusted to her nocturnal cycle.
As the sun dips below the treeline of the forest you found yourself in, Ghost guided you to a clearing just past the halfway point to your destination. Favour slows and circles around to a stop, to which Ghost drops down right before you slide off.
The two of you set up a small camp, working in tandem with one another without speaking. Ghost lays out the bedding on the forest floor while you start a fire and set up a couple of light bubbles to brighten the clearing up. You cook up your dinners as he brings River over to you, getting up again to feed Favour before settling down on the blankets set up across from one. You hand him his food, and the two of you eat like that, silent in this clearing while surrounded by rustle of small critters in bushes or the birds settling down in the branches.
As you eat, you slowly feed a couple more sticks to the fire before you, the crackling intensifying for a moment before you talk.
"We're doing shifts?" It's posed as a question, but you ask more as a confirmation. You both need to sleep at some point, obviously.
Ghost shakes his head, finishing his food and bringing his mask back down before answering.
"You need the sleep. I'll take watch." He holds up his hand when you open your mouth. You close it again with a frown. You've noticed that he predicts what you say before you say it a lot of the time.
"Y'said it y'rself. Favour won't let me lead. I can afford losin' some sleep, but you can't." His gaze moves from you to River, watching the fox as she stretches out over her blanket. "Plus, s'meone's gotta make sure she doesn't 'urt 'erself any more."
You nod, not finding it in yourself to argue while you finish the last bites of dinner. You clean yourself up quick and lay down on the leaf covered ground, reaching up to squish out the light bubble above your head.
River rests by you, blinking at you slowly from her spot. You breathe in deeply and let it out slowly, relaxing yourself as much as you can before wrapping the blanket you had tight around yourself and closing your eyes. You hope, as you begin to drift off, that nothing haunts you in your dreams tonight.
"Goodnight, Ghost." A soft farewell leaves your lips, escaping through a breath let go into the night.
"G'nigh'." A soft answer follows, almost reluctant in returning your farewell. What that means, you've yet to tell.
Ghost tires not to watch you as you fall asleep, your breathing steadying and that everlasting furrow in your brows slowly smoothing out.
His gaze tears away from your resting form to the fox laying beside you. River stretches out and rests beside your head, but her attention remains on your surroundings. She watches the trees for any movement from over your head, like a faithful watchdog, but instead as a fox he picked up from the forest just two nights ago.
"Y' learn quick, huh?" Ghost pushes himself up into a stand, slowly walking over to where you and the fox laid. He crouches down and runs a gloved hand over the top of River's head. She tries to nip at him but he pulls his hand away and she settles down again. "River." He tests out the name.
He sighs and shakes his head. He should've figured you wouldn't let the fox go once he brought her back. As much as he appears to have a cold, dead heart, sometimes it still beats, and Ghost thinks you know that.
He absentmindedly runs his hand up and down River's back as he lifts his head and looks around, his eyes darting instantly to those curiously little balls of light you made. Ghost really had no reason to prod at you about your magic and how you got it — he has no want to try and learn it himself — but he can't help but wonder about the inner mechanisms of how it works. Call it human curiosity, the innate urge to question anything unknown to him, whatever you want.
Maybe he wants to understand why people hate magic wielders so much.
He shakes his head again in hopes of driving those thoughts away. Ghost worked hard to not be associated with his father anymore.
He knows he's not his father.
He'll do his best to show that's true.
A foot nudges you awake, and you wince as the beams of sunlight blind you once Ghost steps back. You groan and roll onto your side, pushing yourself up to a sitting position.
The fire has already been put out and Ghost's half of the impromptu base was packed away. Ghost walks back over with a wooden plate, handing you your breakfast before sitting across from you.
Silence is something that seems to follow you and Ghost wherever you go. The winds rustle leaves and the animals chirp and holler, coming and going as they please, but the two of you settle into a comfortable nothingness. Neither of you expect something of the other, especially not this early. You couldn't yet see the sun, only knowing that it was somewhere above the horizon due to the streaks of reds and oranges blending into the pale blues, broken up only by snow white clouds hanging overhead.
As you and Ghost get ready to leave again, you go through your pack and pull out your fur hat, putting it on before grabbing your coat and turning it over, staring at it. You grab the map that Ghost had outlined with your path, tracing charcoal lines laid over inked mountains and paths. You'd need to stay warm as you get further north, but with how little you travel there, you didn't have thick coats or furs. You had been sticking to warmer climates for years now, and the only clothing you had that was anywhere suitable for colder temperatures was the one in your hands.
You slip it on, hoping it would be enough.
Ghost ties up the rest of the bags to Favour's saddle as you do a once over of the area, making sure to leave no trace behind. You hold the last little ball of light in your palm and slowly curl your fingers around it, the light dying out until eventually dissipating when your nails meet the center of your hand.
You felt like someone's hand was slowly curling around you, crushing you the closer you got to the base.
You shake that lingering feeling off and walk back over to Favour, readying yourself to travel again.
As you go further north on your ride, the winds pick up colder temperatures and drives it at you, the autumn air changing from a cool breeze to a freezing blast that leaves you squinting at the snowy white landscape up ahead. You shake off a shiver and draw your shoulders in, like that'd help. Your jacket wasn't insulated enough to keep you warm from the elements so different from the ones you have gotten used to, and it was starting to show.
At least one part of you was warm. Ghost having to be right behind you on the saddle kept your back warm, but that really didn't help much when the rest of your body was getting hit straight on with chilling wind. Your hands, thankfully, weren't freezing yet from in your gloves.
"Y'good?" Ghost asks from behind you, noticing your suppressed shudder.
"Yeah, just… real fucking cold, is all." You have to raise your voice a bit to be heard over the wind. "Wind's not helping."
You expect to hear some snarky remark, but instead, Ghost moves a hand away from your waist. As another gust blows in and passes by, you strain to hear the sound of fabric rustling. Then—
You quickly find yourself engulfed by a silvery gray fur cloak, draped over your shoulders. Ghost clasps the front on so it stays before leaning in and putting his arms around you again. You almost pull back on the reins, your brain struggling to catch up with what was going on while you try to focus on riding.
"Is— is this yours?" You cast a quick glance backwards, that furrow in your brow ever present.
"No."
"You didn't buy this for me, did you? I don't remember seeing it when we were still in Finbury." Maybe he snuck it past you? But he had only sent the letter out that night to the 141, there's no way he bought this knowing for certain you two would be going to the base together.
"No, I made it."
Now you pull on the reins. Favour slows to a stop.
"What?"
"Wot?"
You turn in your spot, putting one hand behind you on the saddle to keep yourself still and get a good look at Ghost. His hands come off of your waist, resting them on his thighs. He was covered in his own set of furs, with a deep brown cloak and a lighter fur for his worn out hat.
"You made it? What— when did you even find the time?" You think it shouldn't be this shocking, but you are also quite sure that Ghost couldn't have had the time to do all of this in the few hours that you hadn't seen him in the cabin. You also didn't peg Ghost as the type to sit down for hours and sew together a good cloak, much less for someone other than himself, much less for someone he only met this week.
"I told y', I can afford t'lose the sleep." You're really starting to think Ghost doesn't sleep. You'd fully believe it if you hadn't seen him sleeping back at the inn in Finbury (that's the most relaxed you've ever seen the man, and even then, he looked like he wasn't dreaming well). "I saw y'only had that coat wit' you, so I went back and got the wolf tha' was botherin' River."
"… Thank you. And, uh, funnily enough, I made you something too." You reach down into one of the bags, hardly noticing one of Ghost's hands landing back on your waist to hold you still. You pull out the trapper hat you made with the hare pelt and hold it out for him. He takes it from your hands like one wrong movement would snap all of the thread holding it together.
"Your hat looked like it has seen much better days." Your hand reaches out and turns one of the flaps of the hat he was wearing, like you were mindlessly checking the wear and tear of the fur, but you retract your hand quickly once you see his startled stare fixed on you. He looks like a deer choosing between fight or flight when facing a torchlight headfirst.
Ghost blinks, then looks back down at the hat, turning it over in his hands.
"Did y'make this wit' the 'are I got?" He lifts his head back up to see a sheepish grin on your face.
"Yeah, that's my bad. Probably should've told you."
"Y'saved me th' trouble of makin' it myself." Ghost shrugs, faking an uncaring attitude, but by the way he wastes no more time to take off the old hat and put on the one you made him tells you enough about how much he appreciates the gift.
You turn back around and grab the reins again, a soft smile lingering as winds whip past your warm bodies.
With just a bit more guiding around from Ghost, you two soon see an old castle emerge in the distance, barely lit up by the remaining light of the descending sun. It's spires and parapets are littered with a soft coating of snow, just like the surrounding landscape and mountain tops in the distance.
The treeline acts as a natural border, the forest having been cut away by the previous settlers of this forgotten kingdom. Splashes of green cut through the monotonous gray of the stone walls through the means of moss and leaves spreading up them, like a parasite leeching off of skin.
As Favour breaks through the winding forest and onto an old, beaten path, you feel the hand surrounding you close in a little more, leaving you suffocatingly trapped within a prison of your own making. You clench your jaw tight and hold the reins firmly, tugging on them lightly to slow Favour from a gallop into a trot.
"Welcome t' the base of th' infamous 141." Ghost remarks from behind you. "Home of the rebels."
Ghost's comment reminds you that it's not just you here. Sure, you've known him for a solid 5 days, but he hasn't tried to kill you (yet, a whisper echos from the back of your head. You ignore it). You're not in some foreign kingdom with no one you know. You're here on behalf of the word of the Ghost, a figure that haunts the thoughts of even the cleverest of Kings and the strongest of Queens, and you're here on request of the leader of one of the most powerful rebel groups out there.
You breathe out slowly and unwind the tension coiled up in your shoulders. One of Ghost's hands squeezes your leg and you can feel the grip of the claws surrounding you loosening slightly, losing that strength over you.
You watch as the grand doors of the once abandoned fortress slowly opens in the distance. You can barely make out 3 figures standing in the doorway, the one in the middle holding a torch like a beacon of light for you to follow, a warm guiding light.
You steel your resolve and move onward. Favour's pace picks up a bit until you're closer to the men, to which he slows down, eventually stopping before them. Ghost dismounts first and holds out a hand for you, helping you dismount from your shire horse. Ghost whistles sharply, and from the shoulder of one of the men flies Ryder, who chirps and lands on Ghost's shoulder.
You dust yourself off before turning around and standing before the men, chin tilted slightly up with a straight back.
"They're calling you 'Kingslayer' to the west. S'that true?" The man in the middle asks, stepping forward. "You killed that Bloodworth king?"
"Yes, sir."
The man's mouth quirks up into a smile, one with a cheeky tilt to it.
"Pleasure t'meet you." He holds out his hand to shake. "John Price, captain of the 141."
HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH 🗣️. Did y’all know it’s the 100th anniversary of Black History Month? IM SO HYPED ABOUT THAT. Shout out to all my black cosplayers, black artists, black gamers, black people in the education field, black shifters, black self shippers, black people in the medical field and sooooo much more. Y’all are amazing and I’m proud of y’all. KEEP GOING‼️
i’ve seen a lot of people talking about the pacing of iron lung, and i kinda think that people are overlooking that the pacing is the point.
movies right now are absolutely terrified of silence. every spare second is crammed with motion and noise and information. there’s always something new to look at, something new to process. look here. now here. don’t blink. don’t breathe. it’s constant stimulation. there’s no room left for a moment to land before the next one is already gone.
there’s good sci fi horror out there that do silence and restraint well. i can immediately think of under the skin, annihilation, and ex machina. sometimes the silence is the point. personally i think iron lung works in that lineage.
this isn’t a movie that will let you sit there and passively consume. this is a movie full of visual and audial clues waiting for you to unravel them. this is a movie that wants you to notice your breathing. to feel the silence press in until it’s oppressive.
isolation is the movie. it’s you alone with your thoughts, with time stretching and warping, with nothing to distract you from the constant dread creeping in. it’s not the monsters out there that you’re afraid of. not the constant drip, drip, drip of impending doom. but you, alone, in an endless sea of red.
can you count your breaths in the silence? can you hear your heart beating in your ears? can you live with yourself?
First off I want to say that I'm so proud of Mark, of Amy, of the whole crew, but especially Mark because holy fuck was that amazing. I was so immersed and caught up in the world and I knew I was going to be because he's an amazing storyteller but holy fuck he knocked it out of the park.
My inner media studies freak was having a grand ol' time with everything. No spoilers (those are under the cut) but the whole build and release of tension as the story unfolds??? Masterful. I was worried (a lil bit) about how he'd flesh out the lore because obv the characters in the movie don't need the lore dumps from the computer the way the player does in the game but he knocked it out of the park. There were so many little touches that made it feel so human and real and grounded even in an ocean of blood. I loved the way he took the plot of the game (or lack thereof) and made it a full movie.
ALSO the effects? In. Sane. Some made me a lil nauseous, I will admit, but oh my god were they incredible. There's one moment (or a series of moments) in particular where I literally had the 'oh no my mortal eyes are not meant to witness this' (which was the point) but they were done SO WELL
All in all? 10/10. So glad I saw it in theaters, especially after hearing Mark talk about how much work he and the team put in to making it ready for theatrical release.
SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT I REPEAT SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT PROCEED WITH CAUTION YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED REACHING CRUISING DEPTH IN 2 MINUTES
okay first off simon's little notes? on the map? adorable. i love how HUMAN simon is through the whole thing, asking names, giving the engine a little pat-pat when it turns back on, UGH i love him protect him get him the fuck OUT of there
the rivalry/hostility between the coi and eden was also really well done. i wasn't sure how much mark was gonna use/lean into that but i LOVED having simon be from eden and there for the filament station disaster--him finding the note from the previous convict? calling him 'brother' when he heard the recording of the note you find in the game???? the pendant he wore on his arm and how it was the thing keeping him TETHERED for better or for worse??????? oh my god it was so fucking good. the way that filament station haunts the narrative, the questions/reveals we get about simon's life, his own ghosts and regrets, the questions about life and death...
the shots. oh my fucking god the shots. those shots in the beginning where the porthole is almost like a halo for simon??? the part where he's begging for the voices over the radio to be real and he moves so his shoulder blocks the indicator light so we can't see if it's on or not??? the dutch angle when the first drop of blood hits his hand to immediately signify something's wrong??? the shot of ava looking through the blood with her damaged eye and it perfectly parallels the massive eye looming out of the blood later in the movie???? the CRACK in the porthole looking like a tree and the pendant from eden cracking in the same way??? again i knew they were gonna be on it but holy FUCK were they on it.
and simon was smart. thank god simon was smart. he drew the map when he didn't have it--which i didn't even realize the map wasn't the complete one you see in game until he started drawing the rest of it!!! he used the binder to hold the lever forwards so he could keep moving. he used the camera as a source of light. he spat on the indicator to make it light up. at no point was i like NO YOU IDIOT and that's what makes horror SCARY.
i also loved how the movie paralleled the game in interesting ways!!! simon goes down once, gets pulled back up, goes down again to get more info, mirroring how there was a massive lore update to the game that included the computer on the ship and all the logs and entries about the worldbuilding. the part where the tether snapped and he got dropped into the weird cave was at the farthest node where normally you get the jumpscare and it's game over. the wibbly wobbly node being the blood portal to the blood dimension where the blood god stares into simon's soul and they recognize each other because we're all just blood--sorry.
and then the science!!! yeah every time you use the camera it's raditation--and GOD that picture in the space ship is terrifying--and so simon's slowly being irradiated over the course of the movie so who knows what's really happening. the hallucinations, the voices, the contaminated human blood. the black box log from the sm8 was HAUNTING. and the blood taking on such a life of its own with rather...disarming consequences, yes that ending sequence will haunt me too.
the whole debate between what's worth life and what isn't. simon so determined to live for so so long and you as a viewer go back and forth with him the whole time and he just wants to live and then the ENDING where he straps the life jacket to the black box and it's bigger than me and THIS POOR MAN. mark's an incredible actor and goddamn does this movie showcase it.
this movie is so goddamn good. it's good as a video game adaptation, it's good as an idie horror film, it's good as a markiplier story. it's truly so so so good and my entire hat off to mark for working so hard to make it a reality.
This like perfectly sums up how the movie made me feel
But also a little tidbit that I LOVE that I’ve seen going around
SPOILERS AGAIN UNDER CUT SPOILERS WARNINF SPOILERS WARNING
The fact that as soon as Simon is welded in, so are we and how that so deeply impacted the story is insane
Like stuff that’s simple to Simon but never getting explained out loud until later (stuff like us not knowing his name until he gives it to Ava - we literally can’t humanize him past being a convict until those outside humanizes him, we can’t relate to him outside of what we can see along side him), seeing things entirely from his perspective and quite literally NEVER leaving the iron lung/ being forced into the same perspective as him is so unsettling
We don’t know anything outside of what Simon has been presented with and that lets us connect with him so easily despite not knowing anything about him - we feel the isolation, we see whatever is down there with him only when he does, we see and hear his hallucinations but even we can’t tell if they’re explicitly real or not until Simon discovers that they aren’t (like with the wire, or him waking up throwing up likely due to the rubbing alcohol he drank)- and all of that adds to the psychosocial horror of it where you are trapped. You’re stuck in here, just as Simon is.
Idk I just love the forced perspective of having the viewer experience exactly what Simon is because it makes it 10x more terrifying
