#caterposter

[quietwingsinthesky]

im a fucking sucker for the “character gets so badly injured that they can’t think clearly and start calling for help in a distressingly vulnerable way.” characters who start using nicknames for their friends they haven’t used since they were kids. characters who start begging for their brother they haven’t seen in years to be there. characters who would usually use their parents’ names or call them mother/father/etc crying out mama when they go down. u understand.

[quietwingsinthesky]

imagine there is one semi-redeemed dalek who works at the space dmv. they hired it because it makes lines go quicker. someone forgets their papers and instead of arguing about it, they hear a dalek start yelling PAPERWORK. PAPERWORK. and they apologize profusely and leave.

[quietwingsinthesky]

aromantic characters who treat being told ‘i love you’ like it’s a threat, my beloved

[quietwingsinthesky]

hear me out: doctor regeneration that leaves them looking like a human teenager.

[quietwingsinthesky]

supernatural deciding to never even attempt to break down the codependency between sam and dean was the best shit ever. the final saving grace of the show: those brothers remained Fucking Weird about each other for all of time and after death. they’re siblings, they’re married, it’s abusive, it’s love so powerful it saves the world multiple times, everyone around them is destroyed by being in their orbit, they raise (and fuck up!) a kid together, there were so many points at which they could have either chosen to leave and get better, they never did or even really tried that hard, every single romantic relationship they ever had is broken up so they can get back together. they had it all.

[quietwingsinthesky]

we need to invent that fucking elf bread from lotr this is becoming untenable. i shouldnt have to eat every few hours just to not feel like im going to pass out. i should have one single jellybean a day and be fine.

[quietwingsinthesky]

actually maybe that’s my greatest bit of gender advice i can give: if you’re ever uncomfortable with the gender you’ve got, just leave. just go. don’t need to know where you’re going or if you’re even going anywhere, you can leave. you don’t have to stay there. if it’s killing you, if you keep stubbing your toe on it, or if you’re just curious what’s out that door. you can just leave. it’s not going anywhere, if you’re scared, it’s not going to disappear. you can go back. but you can always leave. as many times as you need to. as long as you want. forever, if you’d like.

[quietwingsinthesky]

we’re putting you in a featureless empty room, no windows, no doors, and never taking you out again. actually, this is your second time in there, you got to leave for a few minutes, but you’re back and you don’t get to leave again. for certain, this time. there’s nothing in this room. there is only you and this mouse. the mouse has done nothing wrong to you, except maybe bite you because you scared it one time. but it’s the only other thing in the room. how long do you think you would last.

and you know, maybe you think you’re a good person. and maybe you don’t like mice specifically, but this mouse, you like this one, it bit you but you like it.

it’s the only other thing in the room. you don’t get to leave.

so let’s say five minutes. five months. five years. fifty. five hundred. five thousand. how long do you think you can last. maybe you talk to the mouse. maybe you pet the mouse. maybe you try to be kind to the mouse.

it’s the only other thing in the room. you don’t get to leave.

it’s the mouse’s fault you’re in here, by the way. if it hadn’t bit you, maybe you’d still be free. you don’t blame it. it’s a mouse, and it was scared, and it didn’t understand, not really, you wanted it to but it didn’t. it hurt you, but you forgave it.

it’s the only other thing in the room. you don’t get to leave.

maybe you don’t think of yourself as a good person. maybe you know you are something broken and that’s why you’re in this room. and the mouse is the reason you’re in this room. it knows what you are. it knows better than anyone. it knows, and it put you in this room. you wanted to be kind to the mouse.

how long do you think you could last. you don’t actually get to know how much time has passed. you could count, but that’s not how it works. for you, or for the mouse.

it’s the only other thing in the room. you don’t get to leave.

how long until you hurt the mouse. you apologize. you didn’t mean to. but it squeaks and screams. that’s new. it has been so long since you had anything new. because there’s nothing but you and the mouse and you have been kind to the mouse but it has run out of things to tell you and games to play and ways to react to you.

you hurt the mouse again.

it’s the only other thing in the room. you don’t get to leave.

you are not a good person. you know this. and you don’t like mice, anyway. you don’t like this one. you never have. you never have. you need to hurt it. it put you in this room. everything wrong with you is the mouse’s fault. it has to be. because it can’t be your fault. if it’s your fault, there’s nothing you can do, there’s nothing you can change, but if the mouse is the problem? you can hurt the mouse.

you feel like you have been in this room your entire life. the mouse only just got here. it has no idea how good it has it.

you torture the mouse. you break its bones. and you tear its tail off. and you skin it. and you eat it. and it comes back, good as new.

because it’s the only other thing in the room. and it doesn’t get to leave you.

and you’re going to run out of things to do again. you will. you don’t get to leave and there’s only so much pain that can be novelly inflicted. but right now, you can hurt the mouse.

you never liked the mouse. you were only kind to it to trick it into trusting you, so that you could hurt it. you can tell yourself this forever. you and the mouse. because it’s the only other thing in the room. and neither of you get to leave. so one day, you’ll both believe it.

you were kind to the mouse, though. you loved it.

you keep killing the mouse.

and then someone takes the mouse away from you.

you are alone in the room. and you don’t get to leave.

you think this is your punishment for hurting the mouse. you accept it.

time passes. time passes. time passes. you don’t get to leave. there’s nothing in the room but you.

the mouse deserved it. the mouse put you here, and it abandoned you, and you can’t accept a punishment that won’t end. not that you can do anything about it. you don’t get to leave.

you were supposed to be trapped here together, and instead, it’s free and you aren’t and it’s a mouse. all you ever did was what was expected of you. it’s a mouse, and it bit you, and broke the rules, and it doesn’t have to be punished anymore. but you do. there’s something wrong with you. you’re worse than the mouse ever could be, no matter what you do, and you always will be, and you always have, and that’s why all you feel like you’ve ever known is this fucking room.

you hate the mouse. and when you get your hands on it again, you’re going to make it pay for every second you had to be alone.

but you won’t. you know that. because you don’t get to leave.

(until you do)