#I solely mean cowards

[notthemonthbutmarch]

No one asked but “I’m scared” is such an underrated motivation for a character to do shitty things to others.

Sometimes it’s just that simple, but there’s always some deeper meaning as to why that character is scared— like the Bad Guy heavily traumatized Protagonist and now Protagonist is deathly afraid of getting on Bad Guy’s bad side again. It’s so underrated that a character is scared solely because the situation and personal consequences scare them more than the determent of others.

Maybe I’m not looking at that kinda of media that much, but sometimes I kinda just want a character to do shitty things to others because they’re scared. Like pressing the Big Red Button is gonna launch a nuke at the building they’re currently in with the Bad Guy, but if they chose not to then the whole rest of the city gets leveled by the Bad Guy’s evil death laser of doom— and then they chose not to press the button because they’re just frankly scared of dying. They entered this fight hoping to walk away, and now between the choice to save themselves or save others they indirectly kill everyone they knew because they were just to scared to pull the trigger on themselves.

So yeah maybe make characters be cowards a little more often?

[thelivingsin]

it's normal to be disappointed when you learn that your dreams are already dead. but just like a phoenix, our death will lead us to our own rebirth; and like a supernova, some deaths are beautiful.

[wispwatched]

hello <3 before I go to bed I wanna just offer a lil expansion on Ingvar's scars ! in his bio i mention that the extent of what the venatori / imperium did to him was . a lot. but a visual is almost better than a description so uwu (also.....old man tiddies. hehe.) The bottom row is a closer look at his eye ?? what happened there is short of a miracle that he kept it at all, and realistically, he wouldn't likely have his right eyebrow at all, but alas.... this is da:v character creator jfjdsjfd SO YKNOW. but yes! he's completely blind in his right eye and has like, almost chronic pain because of the nerve damage he sustained (but he ofc mostly just keeps that to himself, though you might catch him like.... wince.. or move a little slower than he ought to if he were not in pain like he tends to act like he isnt)

[cobaltfluff]

LETS GO MAHORO ????!?!?!?!?!?!!!?!?!?

[krenia]

Mosca Mosca Mosca

Seems paying the pretty girl tax to my brain worked and now I can fanart again yippee

[here-for-fanart]

My Opinion on Timebomb Fics

(Disclaimer: This is by no means serious criticism. I love all Timebomb fics. Thank you to the authors that write them. You're one of the reasons I'm alive today. This is just my opinion on the Timebomb canon dynamic and what I wish there was more of.)

Can we agree, it is hard as hell to write the Timebomb dynamic correctly? I stan maybe a handful of Timebomb fics, and even some of those have the wrong dynamic to me. To me, Timebomb is the peak of enemies to lovers, because the conflicts between them are nearly impossible to resolve. For the fics to feel canon to me, they have to have:

• Jinx remaining Jinx. Any fics that take her back to being Powder (or even call her Powder), or cure her insanity with the power of love, don't work for me. She's Jinx, and she's worked hard to get to the level of crazy she's at. What makes Jinx the better version of Powder is that she has Powder's heart, but she's more cunning, reckless, and dangerously capable. She thinks outside of the box and never conforms to anyone's rules, unless it benefits her. Anything that changes that is out of character, in my opinion.

• Ekko having an attraction and romantic feelings towards Jinx, outside of his history with Powder. I want him to feel all the guilt and angst, because here is the crazy, psychotic killer who has been murdering his friends, but he thinks she's attractive and wants to date her. Ekko liking Jinx solely because she used to be Powder, or as an older version of Powder, is lazy writing to me. I want the mental anguish of an Ekko who hates himself, because Powder is gone, and this demon is in her place, and he's STILL falling for her. I want him to question his own sanity at some point, because why does he like THIS? I want Ekko to fall for her, before he sees any hint of Powder in her. Seeing the old Powder in Jinx should be a bonus to his love for her, not the foundation of it.

• Belligerent Teamwork. They are enemies and have been for years. I don't like the fics where they just fall into easy teamwork, as if they were picking up where they left off as kids. I want them to be at each other's throats about decisions. Jinx is a lone wolf with problems following authority, and Ekko has been the leader of the Firelights for years. There is gonna be some tension. Who's in charge? Ha, let them fight for dominance. 😈

• Jinx being bad at romance/sex/love. This is the girl who has been isolated for a lot of her life. Even when she was with the gang in the first three episodes of season 1, she felt like an outlier. With her trust issues, there's no way she was comfortable enough to explore her sexuality and get to know people on an intimate level. At least, not healthily. At most, I'd give her reckless one-night stands or having killed her old exes during a psychotic episode. Other than that, I think Ekko is the more experienced between them.

• A healthy respect for each other. Even if Jinx is frothing at the mouth mad, or Ekko is being a coward in Jinx's eyes, I want them to still have an underlying respect for each other. Ekko should never think less of Jinx for her mental instability. And Jinx, while ruthless, should respect Ekko's decision to put his people before himself. Even if they disagree and do not understand each other's decisions, they should respect each other in their private thoughts.

____________

That's just a few things I'd want in a fic. I'm pretty sure my opinion will change with the new season, but it's a welcome change. Thank you again to all the writers who write the fics I read and provide me with my dopamine/serotonin fix on a daily basis. I appreciate all your hard work!

Is there anything you guys wish Timebomb fics had? I'd love to hear it.

[that-gay-jedi]

The thing is that everyone everyone EVERYONE posting about Hector of Troy understands the two poles of his conflict (the household and the battlefield) but so so sooo many posts file off the nuances of where he actually falls between them.

It's not entirely inaccurate to say Hector is a family-oriented character who fights because everyone he loves and everything he knows will be destroyed if he doesn't. But it IS a simplification.

When Andromache confronts him on the way to the gates, she doesn't ask him not to go out to fight; they both acknowledge the absolute necessity of doing so. But she asks him to fight defensively, to stick close to the walls and to focus on not allowing the invading army to breach vulnerable areas therein.

And he denies her request.

He has to fight aggressively and with the intent to win glory, he tells her, because he cannot bear to show his face in Troy if he does anything else. Even knowing that at this point his death would almost certainly cost Troy the war, destroying everything he holds dear including Andromache herself, he can't bring himself to preserve his life if it means falling short of the standards of Bronze Age masculine virtue.

This would have been totally consistent with the way the internet reads him IF she had asked him to stay home and hide under the bed or something. There's a reason he's as much if not more a foil to Paris as to Achilles. But that's not what Andromache asked him to do.

Given the choice between fighting ONLY to defend Troy or fighting to achieve honour and victory in the defense of Troy, he chose the latter.

The tragedy of Hector isn't solely that he's a father and husband who is forced to be a warrior. It's that he's juuust enough of a family man to want to be one, but... not enough to risk being branded a coward for it.

At least, not until it was too late.

He wanted his wife to have a husband and his child to have a living father, he really did. He outran fleet-footed Achilles three times around the walls of Troy in what I can only imagine must have been as much a feat of desperation as of athleticism. To keep ahead of someone on foot, over that distance, wearing armor, sounds frankly painful- I say this as someone who used to love running.

If the gods hadn't decieved him into thinking he had help against Achilles, would he have run until he collapsed? Until some archer on the walls managed to either take down Achilles or at least force enough distance between them that Hector could escape? Would anyone have shamed him for it? Having faced the shame of cowardice and survived, would he have fought differently in the next battle, more defensively?

He died before we could find out.

[winterzsurprise]

Playing with fire || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x f!reader

Summary: After risking your life to save one spider, Miguel had enough and decided it was time to discipline you.

Tags: SMUT, NOT BETA READ, face slapping (M&F), brat! reader, spanking, very brief blowjob, gagging, Miguel has a big dick, overstimulation (?), multiple orgasm denial, rough sex, pussy slapping, unprotected sex, pain kink, some aftercare at the end.

Words: 2.8k

idk how Tumblr works as well but user @/octobersoot said something about reader being a brat to Miguel and I had to revamp this one idea lol. I hope this counts as reader being a brat.

Spanish speakers, do correct me with the last one in the translation, thank you in advance :DD

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || coño - fuck (literally means cunt but google said it can also be used as like 'fuck!' or 'shit!' in English)

"NO DON'T!"

When you ripped yourself from Miguel's hands and jumped down into the black hole to catch the Spider-Man that fell into it, you had two thoughts.

If you die, Miguel would pull you from hell to kill you.

If you lived, Miguel would make sure you'd regret it.

As the void approaches, you latched onto one falling debris and leaped out to get closer to the guy whose wrist’s flicked to release some webs for you to catch on but you ignored it. You’ve seen how using webs to catch someone goes and it didn’t end well, you’re not about to make the same mistakes.

Reaching out to grab the falling Peter's hand, you webbed to the nearest stable item you could before feeling Miguel’s webs wrap around your waist. The momentary fear and adrenaline from saving the spider drained out of your skin almost immediately. Hearing the angry man barking orders above you, you prayed early for your soul.

You're not religious but you'd certainly need a diety's kind soul to take pity on you today once you’re left behind doors with Miguel alone.

"AY COÑO, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! DID YOU GET YOUR HEAD HIT SOMEWHERE??"

You grunted, tugging President Spidey with you. "Just pull us up!"

"I should let go of you for being so stupid!"

"Then fucking do it coward!"

Despite his comments, it took one tug from Miguel to pull you and President Spider-Man to a safe spot on a building they were resting at to watch the consequences of altering canon events. The anger radiating out of his body would be enough to trigger your senses, his glare searing a hole through your skull.

Looking up sheepishly, Miguel’s face was contorted into subdued rage. The absolute fury lashing in his dark red eyes made your heart drop to the soles of your feet.

You're absolutely fucked and you don't know if you regret it or not.

On one hand, he's going to murder you and split your body into pieces to feed the kraken version of Doc Ock. But on the other, he's unfathomably hot when he's glaring through your flesh and soul.

How could he be so alluring while plotting your murder? You have no idea.

"We're going to have a talk." His darkened voice made your spine tingle, you nod and turned to run towards Hobi but the firm hand on your shoulder halts you. "Don't move, I'll break your knees if you do."

President Spider-Man shrunk beside you, more intimidated by the threat directed towards you than you do. 

"Is that a threat, boss?"

"No cariño, it's a promise."

Leaping down to greet the quarantine squad, he left the two of you on the rooftops. President Spidey turned to you, worried to the nines for your soul.

"D-do you need to universe hop? You're free to hide at mine, since it's my fault you're gonna get grinded later."

You laughed, slapping him in the back to which he wheezed at. "Don't worry, he won't bite."

•=•=•=•=•=•

Despite your shit attempt of comforting President Spider-Man, he didn't leave your side, ready to jump in front of you if Miguel happens to snap in the middle of the journey back to HQ. Hobie however, attempted to pry him off of your side with an amused smile.

“Have you realized how fucked you are?”

President Spidey hushed him, to which the man raised an eyebrow at. “Don’t say that.”

When you all entered the office, Miguel halted and you all followed. There’s a buzz in the back of your head and a glance at the nervous wreck beside you tells you that he felt it too.

"Everyone except my wife, leave."

President Spidey almost spoke up, probably to request to stay next to you until Hobie swung his arms around his neck and pulled him out, but not before saluting to you.

"I'll burn the ministry in your honor."

His voice echoed in the dimly lit room until the hatch closed shut, isolating you and your husband from the outside world until further notice. You watch as a yellow holographic lady materializes over his shoulder, Layla whose gaze immediately met yours.

"Layla, make sure no one tries to enter my office until I say so. Go hang out with Spiderbyte in the meantime."

"Don't break the poor girl, she didn't do—"

"I don't want to hear it. Leave." 

Sparing you a pitiful smile, she dispersed into the air. With no hatch to escape to, nor any obstacles to run behind, you were left standing a few footsteps away from the man.

"I thought we had an agreement to keep ourselves safe during missions?"

There was a simmering anger hidden behind his words, tone almost dark and bitten back.

"I was safe, you just need to place a little faith on—"

"The last time I did that, the people I cared about died." 

You wanted to defend yourself, bring up being safer since you're Spider-Man and all that but you knew it wouldn't end well. Seeing the seething anger radiating off of him, that's the best course of action.

Hanging your head down with a sigh. "Alright, I'm sorry."

"Sorry's not gonna cut it this time, cariño. I think I have to drill it into you."

Your brain clicks, realizing what he said and you frown. "Fucking is not gonna help us right now, Miguel!"

"Well I don't see you complaining every time it happens, do I? If I recall, you've begged, cried and screamed my name again and—"

Your hand moved faster than your brain as you slapped the man. You gasped, bringing both hands up to your mouth as you watched him go silent.

"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No no no, I see how it is."

You waited for his next move with bated breath, goosebumps prickling your skin. You debated on taking a few steps back but before you could, he surged with his hands grabbing your neck and slamming you on the wall, stealing the breath from your lungs and you gasped.

“You know the words, mi vida?”

You curled your eyebrows at him. Does he mean your safeword?

“F-fucking get your hands off of me, let's talk."

The light slap on your cheeks shocked you, mouth falling ajar at the action. You couldn’t deny the fact that the sting left by his hand has stirred your desires awake, nor can you even dare to mention how breathless—figuratively and literally—he left you. 

Miguel observed your eyes, cautious of any hurt flashing in them before putting more pressure on the side of your throat and you greedily inhaled more air as much as you could. Dark spots crawl from the side of your vision and fear starts to claw at your heart.

Yet the uncomfortable slickness and ache between your thighs says otherwise.

"Your words."

"I'm not using them!"

The grin curling his lips sent shivers down your spine, doom looming over you.

"Good."

Before you could say anything, he released your throat and you fell to the floor, inhaling greedily for air as your vision slowly repairs itself.

"I've been wanting to tame that mouth of yours since earlier."

You coughed, peering up at him through your eyelashes. "R-really? I thought you liked that about me?"

"Oh really? I thought I said I only liked your mouth, not your voice."

Grabbing your jaw, he forced you to look up before pushing two of his fingers through your lips, pressing down on your tongue as his suit disintegrated to reveal his formal clothes. Miguel's hand threads through your hair, caressing the back of your head before tugging. With a wicked grin, he continued.

"Strip."

It was a command, not a request. The low timbre of his voice sends jolts of pleasure down your spine. Following his heeds like a hypnotized woman, you made quick work of your clothes, tossing them to the side and unshackling your web shooters.

Reaching up, you unbuttoned his pants and took care of his fly before shrugging the clothing down his thighs. The tent in his boxers sent shivers down your spine, a promise of pleasure behind its confines.

Pulling it down, his girth revealed itself to you and your tongue grew heavy inside your mouth, a few dribbles of pre-cum on the tip and the prominent veins giving it an illusion of being larger than it already is. Miguel pulled you closer making you kiss the base of his dick.

"What a sinful face you have, cariño. I'm starting to like this more."

He guided his length to your mouth, smearing his clear arousal on the plush of your lips making you open up only for his hand to come down harshly against your cheeks once more.

The sharp sting immediately melts into hot arousal pooling down your thighs.

"Do you really think you deserve me, mi cielo? After speaking back to me earlier?"

"I want it, please?"

He scoffed. "'Want' it? Do you think you own me? That's funny."

His webs embraced you and he pulled, making you stumble to the floor with a yelp. Being bound tightly by Miguel who towered over you with sadistic glee and glowering eyes, made you feel small all over.

Yet the sick bastard at the back of your head smiled an ugly grin.

"How about we try it again? Maybe if you ask nicely, I'll give you what you wanted."

He pulled you back to a standing position, his hand immediately locking onto your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his dilated and darkened red pairs that seemed to tempt you to drown yourself in them.

Your eyes fell to the hand pumping himself leisurely and groaned.

"Please? Darling, I want to taste you."

"Do you deserve it?"

"I'm more of an action type of person than a talker."

He said nothing, watching as you fall back to your knees before tapping the head of his cock onto your lips. Once your mouth opened, his hand on your jaw crawled to the back of your head and pushed.

The sudden and wide intrusion down your throat got you gagging yet Miguel only found pleasure from the throb of your muscles constricting around him. 

You remind yourself to breathe through your nose, trying to force yourself through it but your throat complains and you knew you couldn't take it. Slapping his thighs thrice, he pulled away immediately, clicking his tongue while you coughed and gasped for air.

"Bold talk. I knew your mouth wasn't fit for speaking at all. Such a shame it can't do anything at all."

Still focused on the throb in your throat, you weren't able to react fast enough when he pulled you flush to his chest by the web and carried you to the platform where a cushioned chair awaits.

He sat and you ended up on his lap with both his calloused hands grounding you by the shoulder and hips. Miguel's burning eyes roamed the expanse of your chest, one hand rising to trace his gaze with his fingertips and pinching the stiffened peaks of your mounds making you moan from the slightest touch.

"Maybe your pussy could do a better job."

The hand soon crept around your neck with his eyes where it pressed against its sides once more.

It was maddening how you could feel his hardness pressing against your folds yet unable to do much about it. The firm hand on your hips prevents you from grinding down on him. He does reach down to your clit, palming your engorged bead but before you could revel in it, he pulled away.

"Did those slaps get you this wet baby? Didn't know you're such a slut."

Your cheeks lights up and you slapped his cheek lightly for the name he called you, only for Miguel to return it harder.

"You don't get to slap me, slut. The only thing you're for is this pussy."

A wet slap resonated in the room and you cried, thighs closing from the impact on your heat, embarrassment burning your body before shame crawled up your throat as you realized his demeaning behavior seems to only goad you further.

He didn't give you a chance to prepare when he pushed his cockhead into you. Tears brimmed in your eyes as the burn of the stretch stung your veins and stirred your desire further. Every inch inserted tore you apart, the sensation a mixture of heaven and hell, it was delicious as it was painful.

Seeing the struggle in your face, Miguel reached down to roll your clit in slow circles, whispering affirmations into your ears. The moment he sensed your accommodation to his girth did he pull out till his head remained, angling his hips before inserting himself back again to hit the spongy spot on your walls.

You whimpered and moaned in his shoulder as his pace grew with a manic fervor. The pain slowly transitioned into pleasure with the frequency of his thrusts, your nails dug into his shoulder as he pushed himself deeper and deeper into you, narrowly missing your uterus as he pistoned into you.

Mind whirled in ecstasy and lightness brought by his fingers on your throat, you only grabbed onto him for dear life as he quickly dragged you to the edge. 

Feeling the familiar pulse and tightness of your walls around him, Miguel suddenly pulled away and you cried.

"Why did you pull away?"

His hand came down with a loud crack! as it collides with the globes of your ass in quick successions. Your hips twists as you clenched desperately on air. Desire clawed at your throat and you whimpered, body already missing the rush of pleasure he brought with every push.

“Do you think you deserve it, mi vida?”

You nodded and he chuckled darkly. “I don’t think you do.”

Despite his words, Miguel entered you once more, picking up his previous pace. Your previous orgasms arose, walls clamping down onto him, desperate for the release you craved so deeply. There's a wet sound echoing in the room along and you flushed deeper yet far too desperate for euphoria to care. 

His deft fingers found your clit with experienced accuracy and slapped it with every thrust of his hips. 

You shouldn't be enjoying every bit of pain yet here you were, moaning and wriggling your hips for more stimulation like a mad woman.

"My cariño's such a slut taking all of this pain like the whore she is. Bet you liked that spider guy huh? Jumping off like a fool to save a dick, so pathetic."

Miguel pulled away and you cried, the itch of dissatisfaction searing through your body. You clawed at his back as if the pain could threaten him, in response, Miguel swats your rear once more.

"A little slut like you doesn't deserve to cum. After that stupid stunt earlier? Do you think you deserve to come?"

"Yes yes yes."

He slapped you across the face but you could care less, whining.

"Stop being a dick and give it to me, please!"

Clicking his tongue. "Such a desperate slut, I'd slap you for that, but I'm feeling a bit generous."

It was his fingers that attacked you this time, deftly rubbing your clit. Your hips stuttered up to follow his hand.

“Might as well count how many, right?”

Your mind grows lighter as time bleeds against each other. His objections to your orgasms grew frequent as the intervals between your nirvana grew shorter, you have lost count of how many he has denied you and has long stopped doing so, body now laid motionlessly on top of his as you sobbed onto his shoulder from frustration.

Miguel didn't care, in fact, he reveled in your misery every time. 

His hips pistoned faster, tip almost always nudging your spot with every thrust as his lips caught yours in a weakened dance, there was a shift in the air and you knew he had finally relented on dragging it out. 

"Come for me, darling. I want it all, give it to me."

The pleasure that bursted in your veins wasn't like the others from before. The ecstasy woke every nerve ending in your body alight, limbs growing weightless from the shock of pleasure from your orgasm as electric shocks reverberated from your core and to the tip of your fingers.

Your thighs convulsed violently and you screamed, arousal squirting to drench his stomach. Miguel's arms curled around you protectively as you shivered, whispering hushed affirmations in your ears while the impact of a long-denied orgasm shattered you.

"You did so well for me, mi vida. I’m here, no more of that."

Miguel soaked in your every moans and sobs as he murmured something you couldn't catch, mind far too foggy to process.

You didn't even realize that he didn't came, focused solely on comforting you through your high.

His racing heartbeat matched the pace of the throb in your head, you could hear your breathing echo in your ears yet in the state of exhaustion, you found it calming, melodic even. Miguel’s fingers that gave and tore your pleasure away now caressed the back of your head, gently as if you’ll break apart.

You could make out his chapped lips pressing kisses onto your temple as exhaustion won over your body, eyes falling shut with the melodic rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep.

[forever-rogue]

yayy now that ik you're open to write for joel, i propose smth angsty along the lines of "you came back for me" bc reader and joel got into a really big fight before getting separated. i just want the angstttt pls crush my heart tear it apart then put it back together by ending really fluffy plssss

AN | The inevitable has arrived - here we are foraying into Joel territory. Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.4k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You’re really stupid sometimes,” it was an exasperated huff that had your hands on your hips as you looked at him. You didn’t mean it - not really anyway. Joel was probably one of the smartest and most resourceful people you’d ever met. He hung his head with a heavy sigh before turning back to you. His expression was entirely unamused, “so foolish and - and stubborn!”

This got a laugh out of him, a bark of unamused laughter but nonetheless. He crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m stubborn? Have you met yourself? You don’t get what you want and you act like a petulant child!”

“I am not,” you hissed, trying your best not to stomp your foot; you didn’t need to help prove his point any further. Maybe he was a little right…Joel often was. But you also felt like your point was right too. Even if this was the middle of a weird zombie apocalypse you were now living in, you should be able to take some time out for yourself. Especially now that you had a more stable living situation, “it’s always work this and work that with you. We should-”

“We should do what we need to in order to survive,” he cut you off, refusing to meet your eyes. He knew, begrudgingly, that you also weren’t entirely wrong, “that is the most important thing.”

“What about us-”

“There is no us,” he insisted and damn. Those four little words broke your heart more than anything. All this time spent together, getting to know each other both on a physical and emotional level meant nothing to him. You should have known. It was almost funny in a horrible way. The older man refused to look at you and you couldn’t help but think him a coward. Maybe he was right after all - maybe you were just a child, “get that in your head and let’s get this over with. We’re losing daylight.”

He took a few steps forward, dirt and gravel crunching under his boots. You shook your head, more to yourself than anything but didn’t follow him. When Joel didn’t hear your footsteps behind him, he turned around, “I’m not going with you.”

“C’mon,” he insisted, “don’t be like this. It’s dangerous for you to be out here by yourself.”

“Well, how am I ever going to learn to survive solely on my own if I’ve always got you or someone else leading the way?” He was correct in reasoning though. It wasn’t safe for anyone alone. It was also recommended that people go out in pairs for that reason, “just go on and I’ll find my own way back.”

“Stop acting like this,” but you just shook your head and took a step further back, “can you just listen to me for once?”

“Actually, Joel, for once it would be me not listening to you. So…you do whatever it is you need to do, do it. I’ll go back and patiently wait. Then you can come back and tell me what to do,” you offered him a sticky sweet smile before turning on your heel and heading back in the direction from which you came. You took off before Joel could say anything, biting your lip in order to keep from making any extra sounds or letting your tears fall down your cheeks. 

You heard him call after you, your name falling from his lips in an increasingly exasperated tone. You heard him come after you for a few moments, but eventually he stopped, his signature sigh falling from his lips. But eventually he moved on and you continued back towards Jackson. 

Realistically you’d just proved his point by acting in such a childish manner. But you didn’t care, not right now. He’d hurt you, and you didn’t even know if he’d meant to or knew the effect his words were having on you. 

“Dumb, stupid girl,” you groaned at yourself, “had to go and mess everything up. And now you’re going to get yourself lost.”

Admittedly, your sense of direction wasn’t the greatest. But the path you’d taken to get to this point, the point where you’d picked an argument with Joel, had been a fairly linear path. Surely you couldn’t fuck that up.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And yet…you managed to fuck that right up. 

It was dark and you weren’t back to Jackson yet and you knew that was wrong. It shouldn't have taken so long to get back. You should have been back already. Somewhere along the line you had either taken a wrong turn or missed a turn but you found yourself wandering aimlessly. It was too quiet out here, not even sounds of nighttime creatures reaching your ears. If there were anything out there with you, they’d probably hear you in a heartbeat. You’d just have to hope that there wouldn’t be any runners or stalkers or worse - clickers. You were glad you’d remembered to stash an extra knife in your boot and still had the shotgun slung across your back. You’d never taken one on your own, but you figured you could manage. You were going to have to. 

But you just hoped that you wouldn’t come across everything. You’d just camp out in one of the abandoned buildings you’d found until daybreak and then make your way back. That seemed like the most logical and smart thing to do. 

You went to check the front door of the building and, naturally, it was locked. Luckily there was an open window nearby that you figured you could use to get in. Hopefully that was a good sign that nothing else was able to get in either. You jumped the little bit of distance that you needed in order to climb up, catching your hands on the window sill and pulling yourself up. You managed to get in, but suffered a less than graceful landing as you plopped on the ground. And…managed to roll your ankle in the process. 

“Fuck,” you cried, clutching at your ankle in pain as you tried to stifle your whimper. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you slowly sat up and tried to massage the pain in your ankle away, “shit, damn it. Fuck!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you slapped a hand over it to try and keep any further sound at bay. You sat still, and listened for a few moments to make sure you didn’t hear anything. After a few tense, still minutes had passed, you relaxed; it didn’t seem like anything was there with you. 

Crawling towards the corner, you made yourself as small as possible, sitting with your back against the concrete wall, and hugging your knees to your chest. Anything to make yourself as small and unimposing as possible. It was probably a stupid idea to sleep, alone and vulnerable, but it had been a long day and you needed some rest. Your eyes grew heavier and heavier and before you knew it you had succumbed to sleep’s siren call.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time your eyes opened up, heavy and dry, it was the morning. Daylight was streaming inside the room and you let out a relieved, but shaky sigh. You’d made it through the night. That in and of itself was a good sign that you’d make it back. It was safer in the light and you might even meet someone from Jackson on the way back. 

As you tried to stand up, you quickly remembered what had happened. The stabbing pain your ankle causing you to yelp as you leaned against the wall, using it to help support yourself. Okay, okay, okay - this was going to be trickier than you thought but you’d be able to get yourself out of there. Your survival instinct was stronger than that.

But before you could do anything or plan anything else you heard it. It was your name being called out in the distance. Gooseflesh erupted all over your skin as you tried to pick out the voice. It came closer and closer and it didn’t take long to figure out who it was. Joel. It made your heart jump before you remembered what had happened. You could just - fuck it. You needed him to survive and while you were stubborn among a whole lot of other things, you were willing to put aside. 

“Joel!” you held onto the sill so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. You poked your head outside and looked around until you found him a short distance away, “Joel.”

He stopped at the sound of your voice, and you could see the evident relief that washed over his features. He jogged over to you, and you offered him a tentative, nervous little smile. He shook his head when he realized that you were safe, running a hand through his dark hair. Joel exhaled slowly before looking at you, a hard glint to his, “do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you rolled your eyes lightly.

“This isn’t a game,” his voice sounded between annoyed, worried, and relieved all at once. He reached over and gently touched your face, his hand resting on your cheek, “you thought you could just go off on your own and find your way back? You couldn’t even do that. I got back and you weren’t there. Do you even know what I thought? I-I…”

“I’m okay,” you promised, putting your hand on top of his and giving it what you hoped was a reassuring little squeeze. He wasn’t looking at you, instead looking up at the blue sky. It was almost funny in a way; if you looked up, staring into the bright blue sky, it almost seemed like nothing was wrong and the world was as it had always been, “look at me, please. Joel.”

“I thought something had happened,” he swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes met yours. There was a hard edge to them, but they were still soft, “I thought I’d fucking lost you.”

“You came back,” you took his hand in yours, admiring the feeling of his calloused fingers against your surprisingly soft skin, “you came back for me.”

“Of course I did,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “that was never a question. You should have just come with me and none of this would have happened. You stubborn, foolish girl.”

“You…” it all seemed so trivial and silly now. Now that he was back and had come for you, “I…’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just left. Not with my sense of direction.”

“I’m sorry too,” he admitted and you raised an eyebrow in surprise. That was not what you had been expecting to hear. Joel Miller was a hard man and he didn’t generally didn’t experience situations in which he had to apologize, “I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”

“I shouldn’t have just assumed that you and I were…anything,” your voice dropped as you tried to blink back the tears that threatened to well up, “it was stupid of me and ended up causing both a lot of trouble.”

“You are extremely important to me,” his voice was gentle when it broke the silence that had fallen over the two of you. You couldn’t help the small smile that ticked up the corners of your mouth, “even if I didn’t make it seem like it. We’ll…figure it out, okay? But I want you to know that…I…”

“I know,” you did know. You knew exactly what he was trying to convey, exactly what was going through his mind. It was the same thing you were still scared to say, “me too, Joel.”

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “c’mon. Let’s get you back home and we can…go from there.”

“There’s, um…just a small issue with that,” you put on a sheepish smile as Joel looked at you expectantly, “when I found this place last night - the door was locked. I didn’t want to make too much noise so I didn’t try to force it open. Instead, I climbed in through the window.”

“I can get you out of the window-”

“I hurt my ankle.”

“Of course you did.”

“Joel-”

“It’s always something with you,” he tutted at you, but there wasn’t any anger or malice behind the sound, “what am I going to do with you, huh?”

“Keep me around because I keep you on your toes?” you tried and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. You looked at him with a gentle smile, “can you help get me out of here?”

“Of course,” he promised, “sprained or broken?”

“I dunno,” you looked at the swollen joint and grimaced, “I think just sprained. But I’m not a doctor so…”

“Kid,” affection laced the nickname that he liked to tease you with. He came closer to the window and held his arms out to you. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, letting him tug you closer to his body before he picked you up and swung you through the window. You thought he would set you down, but he didn’t. Instead he held to you his chest, “you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“Thank you,” before you could stop yourself you kissed him tenderly on his scruffy cheek, “thank you for coming back for me.”

“I’ll always come back for you,” he promised and you knew he meant it, “always.”

“I know,” you hugged him tightly, “me too. I mean, if the situation were ever reversed. Which I doubt it would be, but you know, the sentiment is there.”

“I know, Kid,” you could feel the laughter vibrating in his chest, “I know."

[kissitbttr]

“i need you to fuck me like you hate me”

it’s not a question nor a plead. but more like a demand. one that simon never expect to hear from you,

“no i love you’s—no telling me how good i am—no kisses on the forehead—only on the lips—because if you want this to be nothing then fuck me like i am exactly that… no strings attached, right?”

he stares blankly at you. eyeing the way your tears piling in the corner of your gorgeous eyes. simon’s fingers are itching to reach out and pull you into his embrace, to wipe those salty waters off your face. to tell you that you could never be more wrong. because he does want this.

he wants you.

million things are running through his mind. he wants to let you know that he may not be a religious man but you are exactly what he had been praying for. you’re the reason why his life has a purpose. he wants to tell you that you are more than just something to keep his bed warm at night. the sole reason why he’s on his knees every night, begging to the lord up above for him to be the only man who loves you. to cherish you.

he’s unbelievably selfish when it comes to you,

but he’s also a fucking . coward.

“don’t look at me like i’m the only woman you ever need” your voice comes off in a shaky whisper, it is not an easy thing trying to stay strong and angry right in front of a man whom you had fallen for.

“this is the last time, riley— i mean it”

that’s why he chooses not to say anything but nods.

[verysium]

PLEASE DO BLUE LOCK ICKS IM BEGGING🙏😭🌹

😏 coming right up anon. gonna channel my inner critic and not hold back on any of these.

RIN

brother complex. not much else to say except that he needs to get a life. not everything is about metaphorically crushing your older brother's dreams and brooding in the dark hate of retribution.

competitive but only because he is a desperate whore for external validation. ignores everyone but craves the attention of a sole person named sae itoshi. was defeated by isagi once and has never let go of it since. has a one-track mind that is impossible to derail. stubborn when he wants to be.

probably a virgin and will continue to be one until his late 30s.

has not known a single day of peace ever since sae ditched him for the popular girlies. as a result, he has developed a very concerning case of social awkwardness. his idea of a conversation involves a brick wall and thirty minutes of you staring at his resting bitch face. constantly looks like that one grumpy cat meme. judges you for your poor decisions but then gets aggressively defensive when you point out his own mistakes.

reeks of so much teen angst that even metallica can't save him. the problem is that he has nothing to back up his emo persona. his insults lack creativity and, unfortunately for him, phrases like "lukewarm" and "half-baked" and "hell" do not make his words carry more weight. uses the f-word but in the most embarrassing context that it makes you facepalm and internally cringe.

SAE

zero social awareness. this boy's head is empty. the lights are not on up there. there are no picture frames or furniture. the curtains are drawn, and there is not a sliver of clouds or sunshine. cannot read body language and does not know what a filter is.

the source of all of rin's stress. he is the original trauma projector, creator of generational cycles. not even subtle about it. "turns out i was wrong. i thought japan was incapable of ever giving birth to decent forwards." sir....with the way you worded that, you knew exactly what you were doing when you gave rin false hope.

swears but it's even worse than his brother. literally called his elders a "fatso and bob cut duo" and "insect turd." i mean....there is a line between what is considered a legitimate burn and what is a first grader making up insults in his coloring book.

has a horrible haircut and no fashion taste. i already talked about this previously, but it was so bad it deserved a second mention.

a freak but tries to justify it rationally. like what do you mean you can tell a person's athletic ability from their buttock size? just admit you have a kinky fetish already.

somewhat of a coward but i'm gonna give him some leniency due to his tragic child genius backstory. tbh he's just an eighteen-year-old boy who needs a goddamn break.

KAISER

alexa please play clown music. this man sets himself for failure and then wallows in self-pity when he actually fails. like what did you expect? you knew what was going to happen the moment you challenged isagi like that. it was most definitely your fault you got violently humbled.

has a borderline god complex (currently calls himself an emperor but has not evolved into a deity yet.) unfortunately, he does not stand on business. cue the dramatic meltdowns when he realizes there is an actual gap between his ability and his reputation. if you're going to lie, at least make it believable.

insecure and mentally unstable. he probably cuts and re-dyes his hair every single time shit happens. no wonder his locks get shorter every time.

lazy when it comes to anything that is not football and expects others to do it for him. demands princess treatment wherever he goes. unfortunately, not all of us have servants with no self-respect like ness.

"it is not enough that i should succeed, others should fail" type of person.

does not wear shoes and even if he does, it's sandals. put them grippers away.

NAGI

a literal sloth who has so much potential but uses none of it. has no intrinsic motivation of his own, so if he's going to do anything, it has to be you behind the wheel, making sure he gets put to work.

does not have a close relationship with his parents, and so he has no sense of community, holidays, or traditions. no fun at all if you want him to do things like christmas shopping or birthday celebrations.

rots in bed all day and then has to nerve to ask you to carry him around. your back better be strong because his 190 cm body is not going to be light.

not loyal (need i say more.)

REO

second male lead syndrome. also known as that one popular guy who's always picked last.

acts like a victim but then when you realistically tell him to how to change his situation he refuses to do so. you cannot ask for advice and then take none of it to heart. no wonder you're still not over your ex.

"i can fix him" mentality. no, you can't. you are a seventeen-year-old child, not a licensed therapist and nagi isn't even all that.

NESS

touch-starved to the point he will stay in a toxic and abusive relationship in order to gain some scrap of affection. just because you were the black sheep of your family does not mean you can lose all sense of personal dignity.

probably stalks all the people he hates. has a burn book like regina george from mean girls. cuts out and glues little pictures of kaiser all over his bedroom. doodles hearts all over it with glittery gel pen. isagi's face and name are scratched out of every team photo.

delusional and prone to mood swings. medicated but at this point, he is beyond saving.

ISAGI

a home wrecker. has ruined more relationships than he can count on ten fingers yet still manages to smile like he's some angelic saint.

solves jigsaw puzzles for a living (not very cool if you ask me.)

has some unresolved anger management issues. probably repressed all his negative feelings when he was younger, so it all comes out when he's on the field. unfortunately, his twilight-sparkle-friendship-is-magic agenda is not going to work if he keeps cussing out his teammates like that. but then again, he is the main character, so i guess his plot armor makes up for his pitfalls.

says that he's a good guy but then holds personal vendettas against rivals he doesn't like. boy was so ready to throw hands when #kaisagi was trending on the internet. but when you actually think about, he's similar to kaiser in more ways than he'd like to admit.

BAROU

has the worst case of high and mighty "holier-than-thou" attitude. isagi put his ego in check, but it still peeks out from time to time.

he was the ugliest baby when he was born. i am not going to hold back on the child barou slander because it is true. no, he was not a cute and lovable bundle of joy. he looked like a demonic gremlin.

he needs to take more risks in life and try cross-dressing. simply imagining him in a maid uniform will not suffice. it needs to be made into a reality.

with how nit-picky he is, i doubt people can realistically stay within a 1-meter radius around him. unless you are a clean freak yourself, his constant complaints will start to get annoying after a time. even if he does have good intentions, he needs to let people have a little breathing room sometimes. a messy room is not going to kill you.

BACHIRA

this boy's brain is smooth. no folds. no gray matter. no intelligence either. his pencil and eraser have been left untouched since day one. if he wasn't crazily good at football, he would be unemployed and homeless in the future. not even a mcdonald's wants him.

one of those people who will do the literal opposite of whatever you say. you want him to stop talking? well, now he's never going to shut up. you tell him not to step on a pile of dog shit? well, now he's going to walk right into it. you want him to quit running around and act normal? well, now it's his life's mission to make you as annoyed as possible. please pray for your hair follicles because at the end of the day, you're not going to have many left with how much he makes you want to tear your hair out.

has the cerebral capacity of a toddler. if he thinks monsters are real, he's going to think anything is real. super gullible when it comes to any form of scam, ploy, or trickery. the only way he would not be fooled is if he's also played the same prank before.

SHIDOU

a brazen pervert. says the most out-of-pocket things and refuses to apologize for them. sometimes it comes out a little too sleazy for your liking.

"to me a goal is fertilization! a shot is the seed and the goal is the egg!! and the birth of that joy i call an explosion!! my genes are gonna knock you up!" let us give ourselves a moment of silence to digest this quote. only shidou ryusei would come up with a sperm and egg metaphor to describe football. (i guess protection means nothing to him.)

has no empathy. if you dislike him or cannot keep up with him, you're a literal nobody in his books. no sportsmanship. no compassion. no self-awareness.

you cannot say "balls" to him in a serious tone without him misinterpreting it as something dirty. that alone should tell you enough. stay the hell away from him.

where do men get the audacity? right here. from this little bastard. he invented the term "shameless slut." boy was getting off during the u-20 arc and on live TV too. no wonder sae said he was disgusting.

and finally, he comes from a long line of cockroaches. he's even got the antennae to prove it.

i think this might have been a little excessive, but i have no regrets about it. you're welcome anon ♡

[cosmicjoke]

Alright, even though I haven't yet read a full translation of "Bad Boy, I just want to talk about some things from the pages we do have translated and what we see happen in the story itself.

I don't t think the level of psychological trauma Levi's experiences in this story can be overstated.

We see Levi cry when his mother's cup breaks on the floor. I think what's important to note about this, is that it takes place directly following Levi violently and brutally killing a group of men who had been threatening and beating him.

The first man Levi kills very nearly beats Levi to death. He's using a hammer fist to beat him, meaning his balled fist, and using the edge of his fist, not his knuckles, to beat Levi over and over, with Levi's head against the stone ground. He would have eventually beaten Levi to death if Levi's power hadn't awoken when it did. We also realize that Kenny has abandoned Levi before this happens. Looking through the panels again, I noticed Levi is wearing different clothes when Kenny leaves him than what he's wearing here, in the present. That means Kenny left Levi before his powers even awakened. He left him to fend for himself, a 9 year old child, on the streets of a place that had men like these prowling around, waiting and looking to prey on children, men who felt no hesitation in beating a child to death, or selling that child into sexual slavery. Clearly, Kenny couldn't be bothered to even wait for Levi to develop his actual powers before throwing him to the wolves. And once Kenny walks away, after years of drilling into him that strength is the only thing that matters, Levi is left not understanding what any of it was even for. His power finally awakens, and he brutally kills these men, and he doesn't understand any of it. He was taught violence, but for what purpose? He even asks "What's it for?" to the sole remaining assailant. He's talking about his strength. He doesn't understand why he's so strong, when it's gained him seemingly nothing, and resulted in nothing good. He's still alone, he's still in the dark, he's still existing in a world and in a life that offers him nothing but despair and hopelessness.

And this last man, in my view, is truly the most vile of the group. A truly cruel and hateful coward. We see this man begin to try and manipulate Levi, threatening him and lying to him about his own intentions, trying to claim he meant to "save" Levi, and perhaps most disgusting of all, using Levi's love for his mother against him in some twisted attempt to save his own life, by telling Levi that he would be sullying the memory of her by killing him. I can't begin to imagine the psychological toll this man's words had on Levi following this entire experience. I don't know what the entirety of the dialog between them is, yet, and I'll give a better analysis once that's revealed. But I think it's safe to assume, given what happens with Levi after, that this man's words to Levi likely solidified in Levi himself a belief in his own monstrosity.

Because we see Levi crying, after. When his mother's cup breaks in his hand, and shatters against the floor.

This is a trauma response.

Levi was clearly in shock leading up to that moment. We see him return to the place he and his mother presumably once lived, and we see Levi prepare a cup of tea, afterward staring vacantly into the liquid of the cup, remembering a clearly romanticized image of he and his mother drinking tea in that same spot. I say it's clearly romanticized, because we see a shaft of light in Levi's memory, coming down on the two of them, when in reality, in the present, there is no light at all. It's complete darkness. It's complete despair. I don't think Levi remembers his mother well. He clearly only has an impression of her, and it's an impression he's clearly idealized. An image of elegance and beauty in a world of filth and ruin.

When he picks the cups up to drink from it, the handle snaps, and the cup falls, shattering on the floor. The cup breaking is what finally snaps Levi out of his shock, and finally all the emotion of what's just happened to him comes crashing down, and he begins to cry. Again, this is very obviously a trauma response. It's not the cup itself breaking, but what it represents, I think, that reduces Levi to tears.

Because, really, that cup shattering represents the shattering of Levi's own innocence.

We can assume this is the first time he kills, and we see the devastating effect of it on Levi in the aftermath.

He's alone, abandoned by Kenny without explanation, after Kenny's approval of him had seemed predicated on Levi becoming strong. And so Levi is left here with nothing but confusion, the fading memory of his mother, the blood on his hands, something forced on him both by Kenny and the men who were attacking him, and with that horrible man's words no doubt echoing in his ears about how killing him would sully his mother's memory, that idealized image he has of his mother. One has to think Levi's own self-image was warped into that of a monster.

Levi killed those men with his bare hands, and in doing so, he displayed a truly shocking amount of strength. I'm talking something equivalent to or even greater than a brown bear or a tiger. We have to remember here that Levi is only 9 years old. He's a child. And he's able to do this.

And yet, it didn't come naturally to him at all.

Levi wanted these men to give back his mothers tea set. He asked them to give it back to him, because it didn't belong to them. He still asks, even after they beat him badly.

It's only after the brutality of their attack increases, that we see Levi try to actually fight back. He lands a punch on the man holding him down, and then that man begins to beat Levi to within an inch of his life, bringing his fist down on him over and over again, until Levi's power awakens and explodes out of him.

Levi resorted to violence in response to their increasing violence against him, but it wasn't his initial response. I know I go on and on about how I don't believe Levi is naturally inclined toward violence at all, but I think this story, for all its intense violence, demonstrates that beyond doubt.

Because Levi finally loses it, and he kills these men, and he does it in truly terrifying fashion. He tears them apart the way an animal would tear a person apart. He shows no mercy to the final man, who tries to squirm his way out of paying for his actions by lying to Levi and guilt-tripping him. It doesn't work, though. Levi kills him, too, and he does all this with seemingly no remorse and no feeling.

But, again, I come back to the immediate aftermath, when Kuchel's cup shatters on the floor, and we're reminded in stark, naked fashion that Levi is just a child. He was an innocent child. And that innocence was stolen from him by this incident. By Kenny teaching him how to kill, teaching him that strength was the only thing that mattered, but not explaining to him why before leaving him. By these men nearly killing him, by their brutality and cruelty and ugliness. By Levi having to kill them to save himself. And by his grieving fury and confusion over the point of any of it, when he kills the final man, even when he didn't have to. Levi breaking down into tears has nothing to do with the cup itself, but with what's just happened. He's horrified. I think he's horrified with himself, and he's alone, and the last, good memory he has, the one point of light in his life, this single, vague memory of his mother, has been shattered to pieces, literally and figuratively, with the shattering of Levi's own innocence.

I think that point of contrast, his memory of his mother's elegance and grace, with the brutality and violence of himself, in that moment, devastates Levi. I think he feels ashamed. I think he believes in that horrible man's words to him, about how he's disgraced his mother's memory by doing what he's done. Can there be any doubt that Levi begins to think of himself from this point on as an animal? As a monster? As "abnormal"?

We know from "No Regrets" and Isayama's own words, that Levi didn't have any friends until he met Furlan and Isabel, two people he didn't know until he himself was full grown. And so we know that from the age of 9, or even younger, since we see Kenny leave Levi before his powers even awaken, he's been on his own. He's been on his own all this time, while harboring the belief that he's some sort of savage and violent killer. That he's some kind of monster, possessing an immense strength that seems meant for nothing but death and destruction. As though he were an engine for pointless death and destruction.

And yet, all on his own, he comes to realize that his strength can be used for something else. That it can be used to help people. He saves Furlan's life, and he saves Isabel's life. And from that point on, with this realization of what his strength can be used for, Levi dedicates himself to that end. To using this immense and frightening strength to help people.

That Levi could come out of this experience still with the ability to love, to still have in him the ability to be loved, despite how all he'd ever known from love was suffering, and that he could come out of this still with the deep desire to help others, to do good, is honestly nothing short of a miracle, and I think it demonstrates more powerfully than anything the innate goodness in Levi.

Because there's so much negativity wrapped up in the concept of love for Levi. He watched his mother die, succumbing to disease, and there's little doubt in my mind that Levi blamed himself for that, her ability to care for herself compromised by his presence in her life, by being another mouth to feed, another back to clothe, when she could scarce afford to feed herself, could scarce afford to put clothes on her own back. And for his own love for her to end in an eruption of blood and violence, and the loss of his innocence, for Levi to come out of that with the ability to still connect with people, to form connections, to love and care for them, and allow himself to be loved and cared for in turn, it can only come from a deep well of genuine and innate goodness. From a heart that longs for kindness and compassion, even in the face of utter cruelty and despair.

Levi's tears demonstrate his despair and grief at his own violence. They demonstrate his bereavement and regret. They demonstrate his horror and loneliness. And they demonstrate, at his core, the persistence of a pure and loving heart that wishes to do and be good.

All of this horror wasn't enough to stamp out the goodness in Levi.

Despite it all, he became a genuine hero.

Despite it all, the goodness in him remains.

[the-cybersmith]

That's a foolish Philistine point, and you either don't understand TV Tropes, or you don't understand art. Also, unblock me, you coward.

In case the image isn't readable, here's the text, by tumblr user Txttletale, I apologise for the foul language and poor grammar, but in her defence she is Foreign:

absolute dumbest shit on tvtropes is how if a trope isnt in a fucking thing theyll still put it on the things page and be like, Averted. Downplayed. Inverted. youll be readimng the tvtropes page for tom and jerry and itll be like Violence Is Not An Option: Inverted. Actually Tom and Jerry always hit each other with mallets and other household weaponry. She Is Not My Girlfriend: Downplayed. Nobody even suggests that Tom is Jerry’s girlfriend, so there’s no need to deny it. Everybody Has Lots Of Sex: Averted. Nobody has sex in Tom & Jerry.

This is wrongheaded, for two major reasons:

TV Tropes is not a fiction summary site. It's not "Wikipedia but only for media". It's fundamentally a collaborative attempt to document and analyse TROPES. Tropes are patterns that occur in media, and media can be, in some sense, analysed as sequences of symbols.

The absence of a symbol is itself a symbol.

The things that an Author DOESN'T include in a story can often be as important as the things an Author DOES include in a story.

If we would expect to see a specific trope, and that trope isn't there, then the non-presence of the trope may be relevant to analysis.

For example, let's consider things we might expect to see in War Films.

Triumphant moments of violence: in a war film, we might expect to see our protagonist defeating enemies, and this to be portrayed triumphantly, in a way that inspires awe and excitement and joy.

Celebrations/Honours: In a War film, we might expect to see our protagonists honoured, either through extensive praise, or by actual formal military decoration.

Now let's look at a film that shows neither of these: 1917.

The protagonist, William Schofield, kills three enemies throughout the film, two soldiers and a pilot. None of these moments are shown to be triumphant. None of them bring us any joy. What does this say about the film? What might we analyse about the film, and about the war it depicts?

The protagonist, William Schofield, is not honoured or decorated. He completes his mission, and the most he receives is the acknowledgement of a job well done, not by the General who assigned him his orders, or by the Colonel to whom they pertained, but by a nameless adjutant to the Colonel. Schofeld is not celebrated. He is not treated as a hero. What does this say about industrialised combat? What does this say about the dehumanising nature of Trench Warfare?

Whatever it says, we can analyse it only by what we DO NOT SEE.

For an even starker example, let's look at Star Wars.

The Skywalker Saga consists of nine films. In all but one of them, the final shot of the film is extremely formulaic, there is a closing shutter transition to the credits on a scene depicting a living member of the Skywalker family, who has also been a major factor in the plot, seen in multiple prior scenes.

The sole exception to this is Episode VIII, The Last Jedi. It closes on a character who had only appeared very briefly in the film prior to that. A character whose name we were not told. A character of no significant family. A character distinguished, not by great heroic deeds or a magnificent destiny, but by the simple choice to help a stranger.

WHAT MIGHT THAT FACT MEAN? WHAT MIGHT THIS SIGNIFICANT OMISSION, THIS NON-PATTERN, THIS AVERTED TROPE, MEAN?

Well, we can only begin to answer that question once we have asked it. And to ask it, we actually do have to look at the place where the patterns are not.

Tom and Jerry, for example: it portrays many of the ugly, unsavoury aspects of the world. Domestic Violence, animal abuse, predation, and (YMMV) racial stereotyping are all depicted.

Yet, sexuality is not. That wicked blot upon the world is absent, even when so many other grotesqueries are featured.

The aversion of "Everybody Has Lots Of Sex" is something we might reasonably include in our analysis, particularly when many other examples of American Animation that were contemporary with Tom and Jerry DO feature sexual themes.

Could somebody please let Txttletale know about this? She has me blocked for some reason, but I want her to see this.

[babalu3rd]

So I have some thoughts about this exchange.

We know for a fact that Agatha is a survivor, she survived her original coven's betrayal at 18 years old, she killed witches before they could kill her as a survival tactic (and is probably what drew Death to her in the first place) and she probably killed witches to try to keep Nicky alive. We know she obtained the Darkhold to hide from Rio at some point. We know she is a coward because she didn't let herself grieve Nicholas's death, she immediately went on a killing spree for decades if not centuries fuelled solely by grief, rage and selfishness.

We also know Agatha is big on acting dramatic and mean but her actions show her true feelings. E.g. how she shielded Billy during the trials and saving Lilia from the sword. Basically she says shit and then contradicts it with actions, showing us a glimpse of her humanity hidden beneath all those mean/ apathetic layers she has covered herself in.

Now here's what I think;

I believe she "hates" Rio because she never faced her grief and has been in survival mode since Nicky's death, Rio represents the inevitable and it's easier to be angry and hateful at something you can't change versus accepting it and being sad (we saw Lilia and Alice talk about this earlier RIP). She probably never allowed herself to even consider the fact that Rio was hurting too, too consumed by her own grief. And I believe Rio gave her Nicky and that while they might not have raised him together that Nicky knew Rio as Mother and not as Death.

So with all these things in mind, at this point I think she's formulating a plan. She knows Rio can't get Billy without her manipulations and she knows Rio will have to collect one body as soon as they are out of the trial. She's being mean and cruel to Rio to distract her from the fact that she's going to take a calculated risk later in their inevitable battle by becoming a ghost. How better to upset and confuse Rio than by telling her she doesnt want her? Rio knows she does so why would Agatha say something like this. She's also gonna help Billy find Toby Tommy by breaking the rules once more. (And if Billy can break the rules by gifting spirits or souls with bodies, well isnt that exactly what she wants most? To find Nicky and give him a body? And then she can also get corporeal again). Becoming a ghost means Death's job doesnt have to interfer with their relationship. So with her words she rejects Death (the job). Now then what does she do in the end? She gives Rio a body,she kisses her deeply, she shows us her real feeling towards Death/Rio, she loves her with all her being but isn't ready to give up yet. She is free of Death (the job) but forgives Rio (her true love) by finally kissing her after all this time apart. Agatha says she doesnt want to see Rio's face when she dies yet she's literally tongue deep in her face right before she dies. So again her words don't show her true intentions but her actions do.

I bet Agatha is going to be insufferable to Rio when Rio finds out she tricked her, Rio being exasperated but proud of her clever lover.

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

Could I request a House fic with the general prompt being a Doctor/Patient pairing? Like House is attracted to (reader) patient. Your choice of fluff or smut

So sorry it's late but this is my first House fic so I wanted it to be good! Hope you like it!

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Dying's Easy

House x reader

description - you don't want to do the surgery and House is determined to change your mind.

word count - 781

warnings - talks of death, illness, terminal illness, hospitals, surgery, being put under.

a/n - my first House pairing fic so let me know what you think!

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN - request here

Your whole body ached and felt like your blood had been drained and replaced twice over. You tried to curl up onto your side, in search of the comfort you received from such a childlike pose. But the wires and your fragile bones screamed for you to stop. You fell back onto the bed as tears of frustration poured down your cheeks.

A knock from a distinctly wooden object halted your crying. Upon seeing the face of your doctor you quickly wiped away your tears. But he had already seen.

He limped forward and place a chocolate pudding cup and spoon in the space between your hands. Before moving away he squeezed one of your bony hands, a little part of him sunk at the feel of your fragility.

“I got you a present.” He gestured to the dessert with his cane.

You looked at him suspiciously. “They’re free for patients.”

“I never said I paid for the present. Does our love mean so little that you must attach monetary value to it.” He dramatically placed his hand to his heart in faux hurt.

You giggled. “Thank you.” He smiled at the flicker of joy but his frown returned when he saw your hands uselessly attempt to open the cup in spite of their shaking. He rose and took the cup and opened it for you.

You gave him the sweetest smile you could muster but sunk down in the realisation of your inability to complete the task.

He went back and dragged his chair closer to your bed as you slowly tucked in to the delicious treat. Only taking small bites.

You had come to enjoy the frequent visits with your doctor. It seemed he only needed to be with you to soothe his own worries which you saw furrowed on his face. His team had often remarked how unusual his behaviour was, comparing him to manic genius with no sense of empathy. You found their quips funny especially because of how anachronistic they were to the man who helped you fix your pillows any time you so much as squirmed.

“I heard you’re refusing the surgery.” You halted your eating, your face fell. Of course it was this.

“I just don’t want to.”

“You realise you aren’t choosing between some cosmetic alteration, this is the choice between living and dying.”

“Well maybe I don’t want to live.”

“That’s ridiculous everyone wants to live.” He rolled his eyes.

“Living’s tiring.” Your voice became childlike in your admittance. This shocked him as his focus was no solely on you. “I’m tired, Greg.” Your words shook and were on the precipice of falling. He took your shaking hand in his and they lay linked on your bed.

“I know.” He cooed. “I know I’ve been wrong before, but I know I’m right about this. I won for you, now just let me fight it. For you.”

You still couldn’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, afraid you’d crumble.

“Being alive is the worst.” You giggled at his dark quip. “But dying is the easy way out.” He used a finger to gently poke your cheek as you tried to contain your smile. “And I never took you for a coward.”

He sat there with you for a full hour. You dropped in and out of sleep but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of your hand.

Eventually Cameron came to prep you for surgery. House still did not let go.

You lay on the table and the surgeons bustled around you, the anaesthetist approached with the gas. House stood next your head and softly stroked your eyelids to offer some comfort.

“Just one thing.” You managed out. “If I don’t wake up, there’s something I’d regret not doing. Can you kiss me?”

House was stunned for a moment and looked around at the surgeons managing one ear on  the interesting turn of events. He carefully leaned down and planted the softest kiss onto your cracked dry lips. As soon as you connected he felt the stress leave your body and you welcomed whatever was to come. The gas mask was placed over your nose and mouth.

“See you in a bit.” House teased.

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Your heavy lids fought open and your blurry vision focused on the outline of your hospital room. Despite the post surgey pain, you could sense that everything else was gone. You were going to be okay. You strained your neck to turn to the side where your eyes landed on House, who’s bedraggled clothes indicated where he had slept waiting for you.

“Welcome back.”

You reached out a weak arm and cupped his cheek.

“Thank you.”

[merakiui]

lmao ngl i would over think to hell if jade sent me a dick pic. wtf does this MEAN? is he just fucking with me? does he want to be fuckign me? wtf jade.

id avoid him for a while after getting it AND I BET THAT MOTHER FUCKER WOULDNT EVEN DELETE IT. I BET HE LETS IT FESTER IN THE DMS.

when he corners you later for avoiding him hes not even mad abt you seeing the dp. no, hes mad abt you not responding. pearl was his penis unsatisfactory to look at? if you would like he could use it to satisfy you another way ;)

-lily anon

A dick pic from Jade is a magical thing because it leads to so much tension, especially when he decides to let it fester!!!! Now you're left thinking about it all week while avoiding him. So shameless... but Floyd did say morays are cowards at heart, so maybe sober Jade considers deleting it and doesn't only because he has to uphold his usual relaxed, always unbothered temperament. Jade who hides behind his placidity solely because he is a coward when it comes to you!!!! He jokes and teases too much, so you can never take him seriously, which is exactly what he wants so you'll never learn of his true feelings for you.

Maybe getting a dick pic from an inebriated Jade is also an omen. ;;;;; it's impossible to fathom his mind, so who knows what his intentions are (he's in love with you)!!! And of course his curiosity trumps cowardice, so he absolutely must know what you think. Asking you upfront if it was unsatisfactory to look at....... T_T oh, he so would!!!! And he catches you right away if you stumble over your words or try to appear unaffected. So you did see it and you did like it and it did appeal to you. No need to be so shy. <3 he's flattered you enjoyed seeing it. You'll enjoy it much more in other, more physical ways hehe.

But also imagine you send him his dick pic back, but it has calculations to go along with it. T_T you calculated the curve, the girth, the length, the circumference........ he's both impressed and horny.