#personal oat

[fun-with-colors]

It’s nice to be wanted. I just wish the folks making the calls felt the same way.

[fun-with-colors]

Oh my god my gender is literally just “short”

[fun-with-colors]

Shoutout to my boyfriend, who for the first 6.5 episodes of the magnus archives, thought that the head archivist was just archiving all of the accounts from this one really cursed dude who was doomed to run into infinite supernatural stuff. This misunderstanding was only discovered when he asked “hey wait, is he a soldier now?”

He was shocked when I said the person giving the statement, and the person saying “statement ends” were both the same person and the same character.

Like, my boyfriend has a talent for being supremely wrong in supremely hilarious and relevant ways. It’s hilarious. We’ve cleared things up now.

[fun-with-colors]

Ok so I just finished season 3 and started season 4 of the magnus archives and good gosh this is hitting hard.

It reminds me of a nightmare I had way back in high school where I was selected to be put into a machine to make me know everything due to something in my blood or whatever, I don’t know.

Point is that I considered myself very lucky to have been given this opportunity. My mom was there to support me, and I stepped into what looked like one of those high-tech modern TSA scanners, but way bigger. They turned it on, and I could feel the power coursing through me. It was a genuine sensation. Thrumming and all that. And I could feel my mind broadening to comprehend, to know… everything. It felt so powerful.

There was, of course, some caveat about me having to do stuff for them with this power, but it was in the name of science and I wanted to help with new discoveries, so I was ok with it.

This is where the dream reverts back a bit to dream logic - I went with my mom to an old friend’s house, and on the way we stopped at a chocolate shop. For some reason I needed to eat white chocolate to enhance this knowledge. I did, and I understood that I now truly knew everything. We went to the friend’s house, and he asked if I wanted to play a board game. I said yes, of course, since that was one of our favorite pastimes together. It was a trivia game of some sort. I realized as he asked me the first question that… there was no point. I knew the answer. I knew all of the answers. I knew every answer. I knew what he was going to do next. I knew how the world was going to turn. I. Knew. Everything. No conversation was worthwhile, no game would be interesting. I said goodbye, and went back with my mom, where I miserably described my predicament. She offered her condolences, but it’s not like the knowledge could be taken back.

And then I woke up, quite shaken. Now, I’ve always been very curious, and up until that day if someone had offered me the chance to know everything, I would have jumped at it. After that, though, I spent the next 5 minutes feeling very odd and very uncertain about my views on life. I was very relieved when someone asked me a question and I didn’t know the answer.

And so hearing all this stuff about the loss of self in the process of gaining knowledge, it’s really reminding me of that nightmare I had all those years ago and how it stuck with me. I still shudder at the memory of the realization of my loneliness in the dream.

[fun-with-colors]

My boyfriend, after episode 10 of the magnus archives:

“Man, imagine if vampires were like a subspecies of mannequins. Like, how crazy would that be?”

“Actually, by toy story logic, shouldn’t mannequins come alive at night? Like ‘yeah, I just stand around all day’”

This man’s ability to joke about things and have them actually happen in the thing itself is uncanny.

[fun-with-colors]

TMA is nice to listen to when there’s So Much going on right now because it’s nice to know that at least none of that stuff is even on my radar of concern.

[fun-with-colors]

I really feel like I should be a writer of some sort

I really like telling stories

I talk a Lot about words and languages and fics

I have stories to tell

But I just. Don’t do the actual thing.

Maybe it’s out of fear of getting characters wrong, maybe it’s something else. But it is odd that if I saw myself and all of the other things that I do, I would confidently assume that I’m a writer, but I’m just Not

All of this to say that I’m probably going to try doing some writing of some things maybe in the future?

[fun-with-colors]

Nobody:

Literally nobody:

Not a single soul:

My ears: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee