What Time Do You Usually Sleep On Weekdays?? Weekends??

What time do you usually sleep on weekdays?? Weekends??

Any time from 1-5 am, sometimes later/"earlier." (Yes, I’m aware my sleep schedule is insanity itself. You don’t have to tell me.)

Rafal, would you ever let anyone me touch your hair haha

It looks nice :D

(Pls drop hair routine)

Rafal: No. And what do you mean by routine? I wash it, rinse out the powdered natron and vetch. Comb it. Nothing more. The practice has been around for centuries. It's not as if showering is hard, no matter what some Never clowns seem to think. They're probably cowardly, thinking the salt will sting their open wounds, the blithering idiots. Speaking of the Circus—it wouldn't suit me to leave out mention of its ringleader, would it? Apparently, Rhian doesn't like it when I walk in with oxidized blood plastering my hair down, but I don't see the difference between that and his newfangled hair goop, or slathering his face in charcoal for that matter—how is that any cleaner coming out of a bottle when blood is already sterile right out of its vessel? It's beyond me. And why would hair need a "mask" weighing it down? Cloaks are clearly superior at obscuring identity.

Something that most people don't know about you??

At times, I have nonsensical, probably stress-induced dreams.

In total, I've been the murderer approximately three times, endorsed an execution once, was a witness at least twice, and have been chased many more times.

The first murder was shooting some kind of long-barreled gun, perhaps a rifle or something more modern than a bayonet? Who knows? It was vague, and I don't really remember it.

The second was firing an arrow from below at a person descending stairs. The whole dream was very Hunger Games-esque and I had been peering up at my target from a swimming pool set in a ruined patio.

The third time, my murder was unintentional. I tried to help an unknown classmate(?) get unstuck from where he'd been caught under a large stone or snowdrift on the way back to a final exam, before the directions were given, and he just... tumbled down the steep, snow-covered hill? I have no idea what truly happened to him. I think all I had done was tug at his arm. I just ran the rest of the way down, took my seat in time, oddly enough, outdoors, at a table, and was given a paper. I think the prompt my brain came up with, before the hill event, from an earlier part of the dream, was something on environmentalism, or something about conditions shaping a narrative, which made little sense—much different from what the real exam's prompt was. I wanted to wash my hands, so I would stop feeling sticky, and I think I wondered if I had blood on them. A thought I had then or maybe after I woke up was that the prompt wasn't about Lady Macbeth, so why'd all that happen? I also worried over whether I had partly abandoned the poor guy or committed a murder. Yet I don't believe in dream symbolism because it's not fully scientific, and the directions in the dream weren't ever fully explained anyway. In that same dream, I also eavesdropped on someone who might've been my real-life, class dean and some old woman.

The one time I endorsed the murder in a dream, it happened after a whole convoluted, surreal, Coup d'état plot, not even founded in reality. I broke into a library, to catch my foe shortly before they arrived, and asked someone else to get ready. It wasn't just commanding an execution to happen; it was a (magic?) trick I wasn't fully conscious of, despite being the one to ask for it to be set-up and deliver the orders during the all-important moment. A professor in the library, who specialized in firearms, stage tactics, and sleight of hand, fired what seemed to be a blank at the traitor/usurper/criminal. And my criminal got covered in loose, non-compacted, burning gunpowder instead of run through by a bullet. By then, their skin was probably crawling with some sensation of being set aflame—but don't ask me? I couldn't sense that pov. There was nothing gory anyway. But somehow, they tried to shake the powder off, onto me, and I guess I woke up before anything became worse.

In the same execution dream, there were other previous events, and I was a witness to a different murder. That murder was this instance, with cool, Art Deco vibes, wherein, my (non-existent) friend sacrificed themselves for me. I had to lug the corpse through halls and to elevators, and I went up and down multiple times while on the run before I decided to leave the body.

In another dream, what I think was a hanging was visible in the background, but I'm not quite sure about that. It was more of a vague image.

As for the times I've been pursued by figures with unknown intent, one was notably in a labyrinthine place.

Also, to anyone who's read this far: Don't worry. I don't believe I could actually pull off any of these things as I think I’d pass out too soon because I have somewhat weak lungs and not nearly enough athleticism.

Wow. That's deep. And I fear various types of physical pain in real life. But to me, it's more like a feeling of excitement (in the Physics sense of the word, not just the emotional state, because, I think I tense or internally thrum with excitement while I write sometimes, possibly as a overreaction, like of the nervous system). It's like: Look at me! I'm being a sadistic writer like real authors are! So, I guess I don't necessarily see everything from the victim's side unless I'm writing their pov.

At least it's fictional. I laughed while writing my whump fic, especially at the tablecloth trap part.

⸻

Unrelated to fics though, I've recently come up with the idea of thinking of certain types of faster writing, like the overly verbose writing sprints/drafting I often do, in terms of a particular Edgar Allan Poe passage—I just kind of laughed in glee at it during my first read of "The Imp of the Perverse" and the crash after such building intensity is phenomenal:

"And now my own casual self-suggestion that I might possibly be fool enough to confess the murder of which I had been guilty, confronted me, as if the very ghost of him whom I had murdered—and beckoned me on to death.

At first, I made an effort to shake off this nightmare of the soul. I walked vigorously—faster—still faster—at length I ran. I felt a maddening desire to shriek aloud. Every succeeding wave of thought overwhelmed me with new terror, for, alas! I well, too well understood that to think, in my situation, was to be lost. I still quickened my pace. I bounded like a madman through the crowded thoroughfares. At length, the populace took the alarm, and pursued me. I felt then the consummation of my fate. Could I have torn out my tongue, I would have done it, but a rough voice resounded in my ears—a rougher grasp seized me by the shoulder. I turned—I gasped for breath. For a moment I experienced all the pangs of suffocation; I became blind, and deaf, and giddy; and then some invisible fiend, I thought, struck me with his broad palm upon the back. The long imprisoned secret burst forth from my soul.

They say that I spoke with a distinct enunciation, but with marked emphasis and passionate hurry, as if in dread of interruption before concluding the brief, but pregnant sentences that consigned me to the hangman and to hell.

Having related all that was necessary for the fullest judicial conviction, I fell prostrate in a swoon."

Do you guys know why you enjoy thinking about or writing whumping?

I know. I’d be a whumpee probably. Just… to be hurt so bad, to be broken beyond comprehension. Nobody can invalidate that.

Then, even better, the eventual rescue by someone who cares unconditionally about me. I’ve never had someone care for me like that. I want it.

SGE Characters' Potential Majors:

Rhian (prequels): Psychology, minor in Architecture.

Rafal: Forensic Studies, minor in Literature.

August Sader: Classics or Philosophy.

Evelyn Sader: Anything along the lines of Communications, Public Relations, Journalism/Media Studies, or Gender Studies.

Sophie: Fashion/Design/Visual Arts, minor in Public Relations or Literature.

Agatha: Social work or Law, minor in Literature.

Tedros: Political Science.

Callis: Chemistry, Medicine, or Biomedical Engineering.

Midas: Economics. (I can't think of anything better. Perhaps, a minor in Literature because he's a Reader?)

Hook: Maritime Studies. (Possibly, a minor in Linguistics or Translation? He'd need to know whatever the Woods' lingua franca is, if he's to travel the world.)

Aladdin: Undeclared. (Nothing wrong with being Undeclared, despite the fact that I'm associating it with him. I just feel like he's the noncommittal sort and he'd be undeclared for far too long. Maybe he'd eventually go into Business?)

Japeth: Physics or Aeronautics. (If you're reading this, Jude, I couldn't come up with anything better. Feel free to fill in the blanks!)

Rhian (TCY): Political Science or Communications.

Kyma: Sociology. (Or possibly Anthropology. I can't think of anything much better for her either.)

Rufius: Culinary Arts.

Merlin: Gender Studies and Astrophysics/Astronomy/Cosmogony (or Mathematics, Chemistry, or Physics).

Hester: Sociology and Criminology.

Whoah. Fantastic. No notes. But I will say: I've never appreciated Aric as a character more. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, JUDE /pos.

He really is a complex character. And now I, too, wonder if leaving all that unanswered matter around him was intentional on Soman's part.

And yes, I completely agree—overanalyzing is what makes it fun.

One other fun thing. At last I've found another song that reminds me of Japeth! (I'd not known its name before and wasn't able to search for it specifically.) It's "Anitra's Dance" by Edvard Grieg. Very sinuous in my opinion.

I am going to cry now