#again. but it’s a self fulfilling prophecy. if i say i can’t do it then iwont. it’s not enougu to just be aware of it i have to act on it

[salty-autistic-writer]

Tommy is sick. 

That doesn’t happen often. And especially not like this. This combination of bone-shattering exhaustion and lung-rattling coughing is new. His whole body is shaking, shivering, sweating into the sheets. His nose is dripping without a pause.

It’s disgusting. Tommy is fighting the urge to tell himself to stop being so pathetic and to get up from the bed before someone can discover how weak and useless he is. He knows where that’s coming from.

He can still hear the echo of his father’s voice. Man up. It’s just a sniffle. Real men don’t lay in bed, acting weak. They get up and out there every day.  For Tommy’s Dad, everything in life had been some kind of battle that had to be won. And it’s pretty ironic that the last battle he fought - and lost - was the one he brought to himself with his alcoholism: pancreatic cancer.

It was ugly. Tommy didn’t care. There have been enough days when he hoped it did hurt plenty. But now he’s trying to leave all that behind him. He’s also trying to overcome the life “lessons” his father pushed into his head, where they took root and grew like parasites. Because now he knows it’s not pathetic to be sick. And he doesn’t have to do everything alone. He has people who care about him and most importantly, he has a special person who loves him on good and bad days. No matter what. It’s not always been easy to accept that. To let down his guard and let himself be loved like that. Because in his experience, good things don’t stay and his heart’s been growing tired of all the disappointments. The losses. But this is different, Evan is different, and they deserve a chance because it’s foolish to let ghosts of the past haunt the unknown future. Tommy doesn’t want to be his own self-fulfilling prophecy anymore.

Tommy waits for another coughing fit to pass, then texts Evan.

Sorry, I’m sick. Can’t do the double date tonight. Tell Maddie I’m sorry. Can you by any chance get me some groceries? I can’t move. 

He doesn’t have to wait long for Evan to answer. With a shocked-face-emoji.

Oh no, I'm so sorry to hear that you're sick, how are you feeling? I’m coming over! And yeah, totally, send me that list. I’m also going to cook some soup for you!

Tommy feels warmer reading the words. But he still texts back:

I feel like a load of bricks fell on me and now I can’t get up, but I don’t want you to get sick too, Evan :/  

Of course, Evan doesn’t want to hear it.

Hey, don’t worry about me, I have the immune system of a horse, and even if your pesty bacteria manage to throw bricks at me too, that only means, we can be sick together! :)  

Tommy’s chuckle turns into another cough. Evan seems to be so good at finding something positive in every kind of situation. It’s an important part of why Tommy loves him so much.

Okay, he texts and then sends a list of things he needs. After that he feels exhausted and breathless again, so he closes his eyes, trying to take a nap until Evan arrives. The thought makes him smile. It’s nice to not be alone. *

Evan’s eyes widen when Tommy opens.

It took all of Tommy’s strength to put a robe on and drag himself to the door, so now he’s swaying, heaving, trying to pull air through his stuffy red nose and feels so hot. Too hot. He’s glad when Evan puts a steadying hand on his back. “Come on, let’s get you back to horizontal. Jesus. You’re so hot,” Evan says, concern making his voice softer. “Thank you,” Tommy croaks and Evan laughs, shaking his head.

Tommy slumps on the couch and watches through heavy-lidded eyes, as Evan empties the grocery bag on the kitchen counter. He pulls out what Tommy asked for, but also … a whole lot of other stuff. Several bags of flour, salt, sugar, butter, eggs, vanilla.

“I’m going to make you some tea and soup, then bake cookies. I found a recipe that claims to be the best and I want to find out if they’re right,” Evan announces, moving around Tommy’s kitchen with a kind of familiarity that somehow makes Tommy really emotional. There are tears in his eyes and they are not only from all the coughing. 

“Thank you,” he breathes, blinking the tears away. Evan looks at him with a surprised smile. “For what?”

“For being here,” Tommy says seriously. 

“Of course,” Evan says after a little pause, smiling at him. “Now relax, okay? Maybe take a nap. This will take a little while. And your body needs all the rest it can get.”

“Yeah.” A nap sounds nice. Tommy can already feel his swollen eyes falling shut. He listens to the sounds coming from the kitchen and allows himself to drift off.

A little while later, they are snuggled together on the couch, sharing a blanket. Steaming mugs of tea, bowls with equally steaming chicken soup and a plate of cookies on the table in front of them. A Netflix movie is running, but Tommy doesn’t really know what it’s about. After eating the soup - the hot liquid feeling like a balm for his scratchy throat - and sipping his tea, he keeps dozing off, his head resting on Evan’s shoulder.

He’s sick and everything hurts, but he feels comfortable and loved. So it’s not as bad as it could be. 

“How are they?” Evan asks, when Tommy tries a cookie, tilting his head and eagerly waiting for feedback.

Tommy chews, swallows, and then looks at Evan with a sad smile. “Well, the combination of crunch and chewiness is definitely 10/10, but unfortunately, I can’t tell you more than that. Because I can’t taste much right now. Not being able to taste chocolate chip cookies. I think that’s the saddest thing that happened to me today.”

Evan makes a sympathetic noise and cuddles Tommy closer to him, giving him a kiss on his head. “It’s okay. As soon as you feel better, I am going to make them again.”

(A03 Link, Written for @tevanadvent2024, Day 18: Cookies)

[rainecreatesstuff]

something I really really love is the difference between qFit’s and qPac’s reactions to qTubbo’s fears about morning crew.

Like, Fit still cares about Tubbo a lot, still considers him and Sunny family, still loves them, but is so so frustrated by Tubbo acting the way he is. Which makes sense for him. I think that Fit has experienced loneliness enough to recognize it in others, but has experienced the typical loneliness of being physically alone. For him, loneliness is having nobody to watch your back, and seeing others have connections and attachments and aching for that. So for him, when Tubbo starts acting out after he and Pac don’t hang out with him for one day, of course he sees it as Tubbo being childish and frustrating.

And then later, we hear him talking to Ramón about how a friendship needs to go both ways. If Tubbo wants to be friends, he needs to reach out too. He can’t leave all the work for Fit. He sees Tubbo’s loneliness, and asks why he’s not coming to them.

Versus Pac, who I think is much more familiar with the kind of loneliness Tubbo is going through. Pac has had those experiences of being surrounded by people and feeling like you’re in a glass cage, watching everyone else interact while you’re just stuck. He sees Tubbo lashing out and sees it for what it is — an attempt to lessen the hurt of them growing apart by pushing it himself. While Fit strikes back at Tubbo, downs him, Pac just watches thoughtfully. Talks to Fit and Bagi about how they can make Tubbo happy again.

I think Pac understands a little bit better why it’s so hard for Tubbo to be the one to reach out. Gets that, when you feel like someone doesn’t care, it’s a lot easier to leave them be than to try to force that relationship to continue. It’s a lot easier to just wait in silence, to be less of a burden or annoyance, and if they really want to be friends, they’ll come to you.

And Fit’s not, like, bad for not getting it like Pac does. I think, to some degree, Tubbo needs to have somebody who’s not gonna let him stew in self-pity and try to rescue him every time. He needs somebody who’s gonna force him a little bit out of that comfort zone, that’s gonna make him realize that he’s constructing a self-fulfilling prophecy by hiding himself away.

And he also needs someone who’s gonna knock on his door at 10AM and wrap an arm around him and say Hey! We’re going to do this thing! And you’re coming too! I am specifically inviting YOU because I want to spend time with you! He needs someone who’s gonna see his rejection sensitivity for what it is and tell him he is loved and appreciated.

he needs both these things in moderation, and Fit and Pac are gonna be there to give him that. Maybe not perfectly, right now, because the emotional tide’s still high and they are trying to navigate the shift in dynamic.

But eventually, they’ll get there.

[misskattylashes]

Alex post 2018 – some ruminations

I have been doing some thinking about the change in Alex from pre TBHC to post TBHC and I have come up with the following ruminations;

Yesterday (1 October) two things happened. The audiobook of The Unfinished Harauld Hughes by Richard Ayoade was released, and Louise posted a very awkward photo of herself and Alex, with some weird reference to an anniversary that makes no sense (but I’m not going to speculate about that). Alex provided the music for the audiobook of Harauld Hughes, and yet I don’t know one person who has listened to it, instead what are we all talking about? (me included) The photo of him and Louise.

I was there from the beginning when little Alex was being hailed as this wonderkid, a little Yorkshire tyke who wrote like Alan Bennet or Jarvis Cocker. The word ‘genius’ was banded about often. Even in the subsequent years, with all the high profile ‘romances’, the speculation about Milex, and all his image changes, people still spoke about what a great musical talent he was, but it all seemed to stop at AM5.

I’m not going to talk about TLSP because that is an equal endeavour with Miles, this is focusing purely on AM.

It was as though Tranquillity Base Hotel and Casino was like Alex finally dropping all the pretence and revealing to the world exactly what kind of genius he was….and no one liked it. From then on something in him changed. We get dramas in the press about him being a love cheat, whereas up until then he had been portrayed as a romantic who went from monogamous relationship to monogamous relationship. Suddenly he becomes this lothario, breaking hearts and causing lots of fans to become more invested in his love life than his musical output.

By the time of The Car, he had practically given up. We get a handful of studio interviews and some written pieces, and that was it. Until it has got to the point that nowadays Matt is the group’s mouthpiece. Alex can’t be bothered at all. He seems more interested in taking part in awkward pap walks and photoshoots with Louise, than he does promoting his own music. How lovely it would have been when AM was voted one of the greatest albums of all time, to hear him reflecting on it. He didn’t have to give away his secrets about subject matter, but he could have spoken about the recording process and what was happening with the other boys at the time. But nada. Matt had to do it.

It is like Alex has become his own self-fulfilling prophecy. The fans didn’t like TBHC (‘puncturing your bubble of relatability with your horrible new sound’) and it wounded him deeply, so he’s giving them little in return except things to gossip about. Let’s face facts, lots of stars have messy love-lives, but they also have high court injunctions in place that stop anyone talking about it. Even Taylor, if she’d had the threat of the law coming down on her, wouldn’t be able talk about Alex. But she’s allowed to and fuels the flames of interest in his love-life rather than his talent. Then of course we have Louise and her strange behaviour, and their weird relationship, which once again fuels speculation. Again, she could be instructed not to interact with fans, but she is allowed to come after them, creating controversy, which Alex becomes involved in without saying a word, but he gets tainted with her brush.

I always thought his troubled 2018 was down to problems with his relationship with Miles, but after a little digging around and finding stuff out, him and Miles were perfectly okay by 2018. I think their troubles were in 2017 after the intensity of EYCTE, but those two can’t stay apart for long, and that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that TBHC was the first album where Alex finally bared his soul, his ‘this is me’ moment and when people rejected it, he was hurt. Let’s not forget that Alex doesn’t know anything but being famous. AM is his world, and it’s like he loses perspective. Yes, people don’t like the new material and the direction the band is going in, and yes, probably half of the people who went to see them on tour went to scream at him, but none of that matters. Time is going to move and so are the AM fanbase. I am sure both TBHC and The Car got them new, different fans who aren’t interested in heartthrob Alex and his messed up life, but instead the beautiful music he makes and his genius with words, which is still the same as it was when he was 19.

I have a sneaky feeling AM8 will be AM5 mark ii, purely to please the fans, which is a shame because AM5 suited the time and space it was in, but not now. He should be able to make the sort of music he wants to, either solo, with Miles or AM.

Anyway, they are just the ruminations from my flu-riddled brain. In a nutshell, after TBHC Alex lost sight of himself and to quote his own lyrics, I would quite like to grab both shoulders and shake him and tell him to snap out of it.

[gayeddie-saved-me]

it’s a selfish thought and arthur knows it because merlin has spent so much time hiding a vital part of his existence, his very being, all because of arthur. so he presses it down into the deepest recesses of himself and focuses on doing everything he can to support merlin, to give merlin the world he deserves. a world where he is free.

but sometimes, when he’s alone in his room surrounded by his endless responsibilities, he will think to himself, i am nothing.

merlin and the old religion hold him as this once and future king, but no matter what they say, he can’t understand why they think any of this is about him. it was never him. everything he’d done, every accomplishment and fight he’d won had never been his to claim. he was a fraud. he was a lonely king with nothing to his name beyond the blood on his hands, the blood staining his every crevice.

he isn’t the once and future king. he doesn’t deserve any of the praise. he is the moon, a piece of rock in the sky that shines only because of the sun. without the sun, the moon is worthless. without the sun, no one would have ever looked at the moon twice.

arthur had never been proud of his mistakes and his inaction when it came to his father’s slaughter, but he had been proud of the things he had done to keep his kingdom and his people safe and healthy and happy. he has fought and fought and fought only to discover he had never even landed a punch. every knockout, every victory he had held up to hide the ugly nothingness of his true, empty self was never his to hold. with the discovery of merlin’s magic, any worthiness he thought he’d earned had slipped through his fingers like sand through a sieve.

merlin is beautiful and powerful. merlin is a god amongst men, a gift given to this world, given to arthur, and for what?

this prophecy for arthur was always about merlin. he carried the weight, he fought and fought and fought and he won, merlin was the one who had carried this kingdom on his back until they reached the safety of the golden era of the current day.

it’s a selfish thought, to be thinking of himself in relation to merlin’s magic when merlin has suffered every single day because of arthur. and yet, in those moments, he can’t help but wonder why he was born at all, why he was named savior of a group of people who would’ve never died if only he had stayed unmade, a whisper of nothingness in his mother’s womb.

his first breath caused a massacre, a genocide, and yet he was given an angel and a title and a prophecy of greatness he could never actually fulfill.

he would never tell merlin about these thoughts he had. merlin would end up feeling guilty somehow, would carry the weight of arthur’s worthlessness even more by taking on the deserved revulsion arthur had for himself.

no, he couldn’t tell merlin about this. merlin would tell him he was wrong, would try to talk him up and fix it. would use that endless kindness to tell arthur endless stories about his own importance. merlin would shine his sunshine on arthur until arthur forgot he was just a lump of rock. he wouldn’t rest until arthur loved himself, until arthur took all the credit for merlin’s own accomplishments again.

no, he would keep this to himself. he would give merlin the attention and love he deserves. this story isn’t actually about arthur pendragon. it never was.

[diyasgarden]

it’s definitely head-cannon that Patrick is a certified lover boy

-he defs cuts his hoes off once he knows he’s emotionally invested in someone

People assume that he’s a fuck boy because of his high body count & the activities he’s done when single but relationship Patrick? He’s ALL IN & it lowkey hurts his feelings that people can’t think of him as a serious boyfriend or being committed to someone that he truly loves & cares for

AGREE AGREE AGREE!!! I have some thoughts on this too

I think if you’re friends with Patrick when he realizes he likes you, he gets a bit distant from you at first. His feelings are a bit overwhelming and he needs time to process what he is feeling, but he can’t do that when you’re around. When he finally feels comfortable being around you, he doesn’t want you to realize how he feels. He’s afraid that these feelings could change the whole dynamic. What if you didn’t like him back? He starts to tease and annoy you more than usual to make everything seem normal. Naturally, you find this weird itself.

If you were friends with benefits or just casually seeing each other, he also gets distant. He ends up ghosting you, and tries to get with some other people. Of course it’s not the same. He thought having sex with other people would help him get his mind off you, but It takes longer for him to get off. When he finally does he ends up saying your name and the other person slaps him for that. This happens multiple times. You’d also notice his distance in this situation.

In both situations, you’re the one who has to confront him about his odd behavior. Mostly because it’s confusing and you know something is up. And either way, his behavior kinda hurts your feelings.

He doesn’t even admit it when you do. He panics and acts like you’re overreacting, which just upsets and annoys you even more. After that, now you’re the one who starts avoiding him. This really freaks him out. He feels guilty but also scared he’s lost you completely, but he isn’t surprised. Everyone leaves him eventually. What else could have been expected from you?

If you’re not able to talk about your feelings, Patrick becomes the one who got away. (He feels the same way about, although he wouldn’t admit it)

If you are able to do so, you do end up contacting Patrick again. You guys get into an argument again. He still claims you’re the one being weird, but you maintain your position. Eventually the tension turns sexual and you end up making out with each other. One thing leads to another and you’re both in bed. He finally tells you how you feel about you when you’re laying down next to him. At first you think he may be saying it because of the sex, but you quickly realize he is being honest when you see his expression.

You both agree to try dating properly. He cuts off everyone else he was seeing without a second thought. He isn’t the best boyfriend at first, not really sure how to behave with you. If you were friends before this, he is still worried about what could happen if your relationship doesn’t work out. He’d lose you as a friend then too. If you were friends with benefits or casually dating, he is worried that you preferred just sex with him and may want to go back to something like that. In either case, he thinks losing you as a partner is very possible, and it stresses him out. It can make him somewhat clingy, which is annoying but eventually you’re able to set some boundaries (or you just get used to it). He’s also a bit self destructive, and sometimes it’s clear that his thoughts about your relationship falling apart is more of a self fulfilling prophecy than anything. He may find reasons to pick a fight with you, even when nothing is wrong. It’s up to you to deal with this.

Your friends make fun of your relationship every once in a while. It’s a joke, because they know Patrick’s past, but this just upsets him too. He isn’t one to care about what other people think about him, but this feels different. It’s not about just how they see him, it’s about how they see your relationship. He starts to wonder if everyone is just assuming is waiting for you both to break up. He rants about this to you, and again you’re left to deal with it.

You have to do a lot to show you actually love him. That your relationship isn’t just about sex (which is what he thinks he is best for). You do this by actually telling him how you feel, but also through your actions. Like showing up for his games and practice. He is also a big physical touch person, so you’re always touching or holding him in some capacity to show how much you love him and appreciate his presence. He is also constantly holding on to you in public. Holding your hand, hugging you. Squeezing your ass every once in a while. Sometimes you catch him twirling your hair around his finger. (You love it)

[infiniteeight8]

I’m thinking about the “can’t find out” miniseries again- may I request another?

I have one more “Can’t Find Out” prompt in my queue after this, and there are 3-4 more parts left in the mini-series, depending on how they break down. Do with this knowledge what you will. 😀

Edit: I keep forgetting to link previous stories. Most of the series is here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/3953044 The last instalment before this one is here: https://www.tumblr.com/infiniteeight8/762927748146774016/so-i-just-reread-cant-find-out-and-i-cant-wait?source=share

-

Asking Tony to leave after his heat is very nearly the most difficult thing Stephen has ever done. Especially when he is so transparently willing to stay, to hold Stephen the way he wants, to be there for him. But he has to, he has to send the alpha away before the part of him that whispers, How strong can his bond to Pepper really be? gains strength. Stephen’s an asshole, but he won’t be that kind of asshole.

After Tony is gone, Stephen goes down to the Sanctum kitchen for food. He’s starving. Tony had gotten some sustenance into him during his heat, which was a vast improvement over his heat alone, but it still wasn’t enough. Of course, Wong is waiting for him. He gives Stephen a critical once over. “You look better.” 

Better than last time, he means. “Tony helped.” Stephen pulls some leftovers out of the fridge and focuses on heating them up. They’re Wong’s leftovers, of course, but he won’t object, not when Stephen is straight out of a heat. He might even have saved them for that very reason.

Wong doesn’t say ‘I told you so.’ Not about this. “He left abruptly,” he observes instead.

“I needed to remind myself of reality,” Stephen says shortly.

“Don’t turn this into a self-fulfilling prophecy.” 

Stephen frowns and turns to look at Wong. “What do you mean?”

“You’re afraid that sharing your heat will change things between you,” Wong clarifies. “If you focus so hard on reality that you shut him out, you will be making that happen.”

Wong has a point. Stephen sighs. “I’ll try.”

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to try very hard: Tony meets him more than halfway. His visits go from occasional to regular. He texts Stephen so much that he ends up writing a whole new speech recognition system just to make it easier for Stephen to text him back. And he keeps bringing food. Stephen isn’t sure if Tony’s forgotten about the implications or if he just doesn’t care. 

He doesn’t tell Tony to stop.

On three occasions, lunch with Tony is actually lunch with Tony and Pepper, which ought to be horribly awkward. Stephen agrees both because it’s polite to get to know his friend’s mate and because the awkwardness will be an excellent reminder of his place. 

Except it isn’t awkward. Stephen ought to be the third wheel, the outsider, the omega co-opting Pepper’s mate. Instead, he and Tony fall in their banter as easily as ever and Pepper sits back and watches them with a small, amused smile, like she’s only there for the show. Like she’s the spectator, not Stephen. Stephen doesn’t kid himself that she isn’t aware of the dynamic; Pepper is too socially savvy for that. But she doesn’t seem to mind. No, instead she seems quietly pleased.

Stephen can’t help but think that he’s missing something.

[physalian]

On Writing Theme (Or, Make it a Question)

An element of story so superficially understood and yet is the backbone of what your work is trying to say. Theme is my favorite element to design and implement and the easiest way to do that? Make it a question.

A solid theme takes an okay action movie and propels it into blockbuster infamy, like Curse of the Black Pearl. It turns yet another Batman adaptation into an endlessly rewatchable masterpiece, seeing the same characters reinvented yet again and still seeing something new, in The Dark Knight. It’s the spiraling drain at the bottom of classic tragedies, pulling its characters inevitably down to their dooms, like in The Great Gatsby.

Theme is more than just “dark and light” or “good and evil”. Those are elements that your story explores, but your theme is what your story *says* with those elements. 

For example: Star Wars takes “dark vs light” incredibly literally (ignoring the Sequels). Dark vs Light is what the movies pit against each other. How the selfish, corrupted, short-sighted nature of the Dark Side inevitably leads to a self-fulfilling prophecy of doom—that’s what the story is about.

A story can have more than one theme, more than one statement it wants to make and more than one question to answer. Star Wars is also about the inevitable triumph of unity and ‘goodness’ over division and ‘evil’.

Part of why I love fantasy is how allegorical it can be. Yes I’m writing a story with vampires, but my questions to my characters are, “What makes a monster? Why is it a monster?” My characters’ arcs are the answer to my theme question.

Black Pearl is a movie that dabbles in the dichotomy between law-abiding soldiers and citizens, and the lawless pirates who elude them. Black Pearl’s theme is that one can be a pirate and also a good man, and that neither side is perfect or mutually exclusive, and that strictly adhering to either extreme will lead you to tragedy.

Implementing your theme means, in my opinion, staging your theme like a question and answering it with as many characters and plot beats as possible. In practice?

Q: Can a pirate be a good man? A: Jack is. Will is. Elizabeth is. Barbossa is selfish and short-sighted, and he loses. Norrington is too focused on propriety and selfless duty, and he loses.

Or, in Gatsby.

Q: Is life fulfilled by living in the past? A: Mr. Buchanan clings to his old-money ways and is a sour lout with no respect for anyone or himself. Daisy clings to a marriage that failed long ago, to retain an image and security she thinks she needs. Myrtle chases a man she can’t ever have. Her husband lusts after a wife who’s no longer his. Gatsby… well we all know what happens to him.

The more characters and plot beats you have to answer your theme’s question, the more cohesive a message you’ll send. It can be a statment the story backs up as well, as seen below, questions just naturally invite answers.

—

Do you need a theme?

Not technically, no. Plenty of stories get by on their other solid elements and leave the audience to draw their own conclusions and take their own meaning and messages. Your average romance novel probably isn’t written with a moral. Neither are your 80s/90s action thrillers. Neither are many horror movies. Theme is usually reserved for dramas, and usually in dramatic fantasy and sci-fi, where the setting tends to be an allegory for whatever message the author is trying to send. That, and kids movies.

Sometimes you just want to tell a funny story and you don’t set out with any goals of espousing morals and lessons you want your readers to learn and that is perfectly okay. I still think saying *something* will make the funny funnier or the drama more dramatic or the romance more romantic, but that’s just me and what I like to read.

When it is there, it’s right in front of your face way more often than you might think. Here’s some direct quotes succinctly capturing the main theses of a couple famous works:

“He’s a good man.” / “No, he’s a pirate.” - Curse of the Black Pearl

“What are we holding onto, Sam?” / “That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it’s worth fighting for.” - LotR, Two Towers

“Even the smallest person can change the course of the future.” - LotR, Fellowship of the Ring

“A person’s a person, no matter how small.” - Horton Hears a Who

“You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” - The Dark Knight

“Can’t repeat the past? Why of course you can!” - The Great Gatsby

“Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should.” & “Life finds a way.” - Jurassic Park

"Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind." - Lilo & Stitch

“But… I’m supposed to be beautiful.” / “You are beautiful.” - Shrek

“I didn’t kill him because he looked as scared as I was. I looked at him, and I saw myself.” - How to Train Your Dragon

“There are no accidents.” & “There is no secret ingredient.” & “You might wish for an apple or an orange, but you will get a peach.” - Kung Fu Panda

*If any of those are wrong, I did them entirely from memory, sue me.

Some of the best scenes in these stories are where the theme synthesizes in direct dialogue. There’s this moment of catharsis where you, the audience, knew what the story has been saying, but now you get to hear it put into words.

Or, these are the lines that stick in your head as you watch the tragedy unfold around the characters and all they didn’t learn when they had the chance.

When it comes to stories that have a very strong moral and never feel like they’re preaching to you, look no further than classic Pixar movies.

“Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere.” - Ratatouille

“I’m not strong enough.” / “If we work together, you don’t have to be.” - The Incredibles

“Just keep swimming!” - Finding Nemo

Ellie’s adventure book, to live your own adventure, even if it’s not the one you thought it would be - Up

The Wheel Well montage, to slow down every once in a while, because in a flash, it’ll be gone - Cars

The entire first dialogue-less section of Wall-E, to stop our endless consumption or else

The real monsters are corporate consumption - Monsters Inc

One cannot fully appreciate happiness without a little sadness - Inside Out

With enough loud voices, the common man can overthrow The Man - A Bug’s Life

A person’s worth is not determined by their value to other people - Toy Story

These are the themes that I, personally, took from these movies as a kid and later in life. If I remembered the scripts any better I could probably pull some direct dialogue to support them, but, sadly, I do not have the entire Pixar catalog memorized.

—

After you’ve suffered through rigorous literary analysis classes for years on end, the “lit analyst” hat kind of never comes off. Sometimes you try to find a theme where none exists, coming up with your own. Sometimes you can very easily see the skeleton attempt at having a theme and a message that came out half-baked, and all the missed opportunities to polish it.

Whatever the case, while theme isn’t *necessary*, having that through line, an axis around which your entire story revolves, can be a fantastic way to examine which elements of your WIP aren’t meshing with the rest, why a character is or isn’t clicking, how you want to end it, or, even, how you want to approach a sequel.

Unfortunately, very, very often, a movie, book, or season of TV has a fantastic execution of a theme in its first run, and the ensuing sequels forget all about it.

No one here is going to defend Michael Bay’s Transformers movies as cinematic masterpieces, however, the first movie did actually have a thematic through line: “No sacrifice, no victory.” They didn’t stick the landing but, you know, the attempt was made. Where is that theme at all in the sequels? Nonexistent. They could have even explored a different theme and they abandoned it altogether.

Black Pearl’s thematic efforts fell away to lore and worldbuilding in its two sequels. Not that they’re bad! I love Dead Man’s Chest, but to those who don’t like the sequels, that missing element may be part of why.

Shrek and Shrek 2 both centered on their theme of beauty being how you define it and no one else. Fiona finds true love in her “true” form, then strengthens that message in the sequel when she has the chance to be “normal” and conventionally attractive, and still chooses to be an ogre, to be with Shrek. Shrek 3’s theme is…? 

When it was never there, that theme is missing isn’t so obvious. When it used to be there and got left behind, it leaves a crater in its wake everyone notices, even if they can’t pinpoint why.

—

TLDR: Theme is more than just vague nouns and dichotomies. Good, evil, dark, light, selfishness, altruism, beauty, ugliness, riches, poverty, etc are what your story uses. Your theme is what your story has to say with those elements, using as many characters and plot points as possible to reinforce its message. Is it necessary? No. Is it helpful and does it lead to a richer experience? Yes.

[daeagon]

My Reactions to the Season Finale of TDofJ

Time for the SeaSON FINaLe

😮‍💨 I wasn’t planing on doing this, but here I am

How did Jackal escape the Boats? I love the car chase but you get up a boat one last ep

😭😭😭😭😭

WHY IS JACKAL HOMOPHOBIC?! How hurt you!! I’m sorry ok! Please stop killing gay men!

Something something Bianca signed up to help people and has been told to do whatever it takes and she does that to a T, but goes too far, people die and she is dealing with the guilt and consequences, she does what she has been conditioned to do, continue, she is/has lost her humanity for this job and for what?

Say that again? (I can’t find the gif, but you know it)

*scarsactic* wow! It’s almost like that’s how J was in the army and Bianca is a mirror, woah

‘I quit’ SLAYYY QUEENNN!!! You leave them!

but now who’s the reckless loner??? It was a self fulfilling prophecy! She has become the Jackal in her own way, also she has no resources now

IS THAT BRITISH FORUGN SECRETARY THE MOLE?! He’s sus! Also love the music

HE IS THE MOLE! ITS A CONSPIRACY!! ‘Your friends’ WHO?! So he’s leading this, but why? What do they gain?

also Bianca’s going rogue I just know it

I’m so confused! Could the friends be someone the Jakcal has killed? But he was with the people who wanted UDC dead? He’s such a good villain that chuckle!? ‘let her deal with him’ CHILLS CHILLS! I’m so scared for Bianca! This feels like a trap

OH SHIT KID NOOO! what kind of Dr. Strange car flip is that?

Wow, that poor car, poor Jackal!

‘I’d say it was a pleasure, but it was not’ I love her already! Slayyyyyy

She’s cutting the brother off!! 😮

he’s going to the police, he’s telling, he’s going villain I can feel it!

Oh shit, daddy issues, that was cold Nuria! Cold! Don’t do that

THE CAR JS ON FIRE ITS GOING TO EXPLODE GET OUT!

calling the police is not as reassuring as you think it is

THE KIND RANDOM MAN LIVED!! Yippie! You might have some humanity in you yet!

this man just goes around stealing cars and seducing people

Awww I love Bianca and her husband!

MIRRORS TO THIS BEING JACKALS LAST JOB!!! 👀

identity change time!!

I could analyze that, I could, but I won’t (that being J’s scream as he pushes the evidence over a ledge)

oh no, is this another J in the wilderness ep? Bc I hated that time in Hungary

HE PUT HIS WEDDING RING ON!! BLENDING OF HIS 2 LIVES YESSSSSS

Their suspicion! They’ve seen the image! (Which some other have pointed out but it doesn’t really look like him)

but it’s interesting that normal people are being so suspicious of others and thinking twice about helping them, people turning on each other (what comes to mind is Nazi Germany and people snitching on their neighbors) very interesting!

I love the family dynamic! I wish this way my family!

DONT ANSWER THE DOOR!!! OH NO ITS ISOBEL

She’s so awkward, why is the husband hitting the 🧍‍♂️

I love that old couple! Please don’t kill them 🙏

NOOOO!

‘This will all be over soon’ FORSHADOWI N HELLO??

(I forgot to keep adding oops)

‘for the ones who have died’ GURL SHUT THE HELL UP YOU DO NOT CARE ABOUT THEM!!

‘No’ YES!!! TELL THEM NO BIANCA!! I genuinely love a black woman telling someone in the government no!!

WHY ARE YOU GOING TOT HE BORDER WHEN YOUR RUNNING FROM THE POLICE?!

please don’t kill them! 🙏

don’t smoke kids! Remember that!

THEY REMIND HIM OF HIS PARENTS 😭😭😭WERE?!! Are they dead! Probably

DAMN! That’s cold, but understandable

HOLY SHIT! SHE STABBED HIM IN THA BACK LITERALLY

This poor man, he’s been in a car crash, stabbed, he’s going through it

HE JUST PULLED IT OUT! DONT DO THST!! It’s keeping blood in! If you pull it out you’ll start bleeding out!

oh he angy

HE WAS REGAINING HUMANITY/NOT BURRYING IT AND HE GRTS STABBED IN THE BACK

’why couldn’t you have just let it go’ (that’s Bianca’s fatale flaw)

HE LOOKED AWAY ANSBABSFHAND

I don’t know how to feel about these events

DOES HE SEE HIS PARENTS?!!!

He’s always surrounded by bodies, that’s so sad

then immediately cut to Bianca’s family

’one last thing’ I’ve heard this before

The way J calls Nuria ‘my love’ 💕 I love it

‘Are you ok?’

YOU CAN SEE THE BLOOD FROM THE OPEN STAB WOUND?!! (I’m getting the ick from the idea of a stab wound in the shoulder I feel like I can feel it ick, also bc I’m left handed the thought of getting stabbed in the left shoulder ewww)

Something something him hiding his pain (real)

THIS PHONE CALL FEELS LIKE A GOODBY

Oh no! I feel so bad for him! Get him his wife!!

WELL SHIT! Bianca is in Spain! OH NO SHES GOING TO KIDNAP NURIA NOOOOO!

it’s a trap, none knows but Isabel and Vince (he’s also done absolutely nothing this season, which is sad bc I love him! He has so much potential)

As a person I was watching this with said ‘that’s going to go boom/make a big boom’

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨BIRD ALERT 🚨 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

BIRD ALERT!!!

It was in-fact a big boom

He’s on a bus now???? What is with these jumps? First from a boat chase to a car? Then this???

love the music as always 👌 this soundtrack is amazing!

BIRD tour bus!!!! BIRD ALERT!!

And he’s free to go?? These police need to step it up! How much is your budget anyways? Bc it’s far too much in the US

I LOVE THIS DETECTIVE WOMAN!!! She’s so done

VINCE ACTUSLLY DOES SOMETHING YIPPIE!! I also love him

SHIT

SHE KNOWS HIS NAME

SHE FOUND HIM OH SHIT! Confrontation time!!

He just dropped a gun into a bin 😭 he’s going home!

And he wants his money!

WHOS THAT OTHER WHITE WOMAN WHO ARE YOU! I don’t like you, I think she’s going to sell him out or working with the British foreign secretary dude

Is the good woman who’s been helping J is she a middle man?

This feels fishy, I don’t like it

NO NO NOOOOOO THEY GOT NURIA NOO GET AWAY FROL HER

WE DO WHAT THE JACKAL WOULD DO WE WAIT?!? THE PARALLELS TO JACKALS MISSION IN AFGANSIST AND DAKNERJDJFJFBDHFHFBDB

Do not touch Nuria, don’t even think about it!

What? B are you ok?

Ohhh she’s going against instructions!

he’s so getting away

*cough* *cough*

DONT DISS THE FUCKING BUSCITS!

why is she packing?? IS SHE LEAVING? NOW

slayyyy queen!

I’m so confused, the American woman left the hotel, and the man went up, is there a bomb there or something? I’m so confused

THR CARTOON PLAYING WHAT??

(I actually finished the show and have been going back to put my thoughts, but I’m feeling numb)

NURIA LEFT!! PLEASE TALK PLEASE! Also Girl where are you going? Your husband is an expert in this HE WAS TOO LATE!! It’s so tragic

HE LEFT THE BAG HE LEFT EVERYTHING BEHIND FFOR HER BUT HE WAS TOO LATE

im killing myself /j

Someone kill me now (like J is about to d-)

The person I was watching this with ‘don’t try need a warrant? (To B&E) Their secret service agents they don’t need a warrant”

SHES GONE AND SHE TOOK THE KID 😭😭

Oh? Oh no! That warning is a little late but I knew I liked you!!

hes leaving too

OH NO THE BROTHERS THERE! 1 how did you get it? 2 how long has bro been there 😭 3 your dead

yup

also I love Jackals turtleneck/shirt, it’s very gender

There are mother things I could say but I won’t for everyone’s sake

THE RED LIGHT

ITS THE READ LIGHT FROM THE OPENING

he’s just holeing up in his secret lair

the reflection and that red light akakensjsnnsdjsndb

BIANCA HE HAS A FAMILY!!

THE CONTRANS

YESSS ITS THE SCEENE!

HE CAN SEE HER/KNOWS/ IS ONE STEP AHEAD AND SHE ONLY SEES HERSELF LOOKING ABCK AT HER AND HE SEES HER FACE/LOOKS AT HER FOR THE FIRST TIME ANDNFJSJD

Anyone who were in charge of this decision/set design/camera angle deserves all of the awards!! All of them! This show is genuinely breathtaking and so beautiful!!

SHES IN HIS REFLECTION BUT SMALLER OH THE SYMBOLISM AND COMMENTSRY OF THE WORKD

she sees her reflection and turns away oh it just writes itself

THE SEXY NECK CRACK SIR I AM BARKING

oh the things he could do to me

The alarm is just going to make it easier for J to move around the house bc you can’t hear anything over it

I love that he’s just like tf are they doing now

hey bitches

THE RED LIGHT

Vince is dead, welp. You were cool while you were alive (we all expected this)

another scene from the opening

remember that time B went on a mission to take out Norman? Clearly she doesn’t

it’s so quiet, the house is also so dead and empty, the moonlight makes it feel dead

THE HORROR MIVOE VIBES

ohhhh she called him Duggan

‘why do you’ skzndbnsdbdb

for some reason my brain keeps thinking of ‘why do you persist after all I have done’ from Arcane 😭

‘because I like to win’ is that is? This really is a personal grudge for her now, not for the people who have died? Not to bring a criminal to justice? Wow

she charges in thinking she is the cat but she is in his house and he is the cat

Last resort

’it doesn’t have to end this way’ ‘it does’ ACORDING TO WHO

AND THEN YOU SHOOT EHT

BIANCAS DEAD

WHAT NOOOO

NO

I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THA

SHES NOT DEAD ( she is, I’ve already gone through this stage)

she’s dead

I genuinely feel numb, I loved Bianca! She made this show amazing! She was so fun! I loved her

all that for nothing

my current mood ^

AT LEASE BIANCA GOT TO SEE HIS FACE IG! She did win, but at what cost

this is so morbid, she’s really dead I can believe it but I don’t want to

WHAT ABOUT HER FAMILY!!!!

NURIA NOOOOOOOOO! Welp season 2 find your family

oh he angy.

Noooooooo this poor man, he’s so sad, the wet cat energy! HES CRYING

Please Nuria

Ok first of all get your suitcase/gun back, you’ll need it for season 2! I don’t make the rules the plot does

ANOTHER CAR CRACK WHAT THE HECK! Does this man ever get a break!!

you really need to focus on the roads damn

Who was that other car? BIANCA!! 🤡

OU NO ISABELLS IN CHARGE OH NO OSI WATCH OUT!!

Ohhh get her Osi!

Coveruppppp!

BIANCA KNEW IT WAS A TRAP SHE PLANNED FOR IT 🤡

S2 Osi vs Isabell but Osi is rebelling calling it now

THE PLANT!

that feels symbolic, but I don’t know how, was it all an act? ‘I killl everything’????

Osi working undercover to trance Bianca’s steps???

The music ohh?

where are they?

😳

legggsssss

I JUST FELL TO MY KNEES IN A WALMART PARKING LOT

THATS SO HOT

I’ll bring her home by 8 vs your daughter calls me daddy too 😭😭😭😭😭

I NEED HIM I NEED HIS GENDER I NEED HIM I NEED TO BE HIM

ONC CHANCE PLEASE! JUST ONE PLEASE

I AM GOING INSAME. IMM LOSING MY MIND

THAT FIT

*hyperventelates*

I am not ok

I think this had changed the trajectory of my life

I’m never getting over this

HE JSIT WALKED PAST 2 POLICE OFFICERS THETES A JOKE BROO

he’s so cunty

serving

he’s so free! And light and happy!!

WHAT IN THE GOOD OMENS THAT IS A CROWLEY LOOK OMAJDMDKDNDNNDDBDBDHDBDRBDBDDBBDDBFBDSHHS

IM SHAKING

are they besties?? Slayyyy

I actually love that idea!

I need them, I love their friendship

also yeah, how did you survive??

wait, how does she know? WAS SHE RESPOSIBLE? IS SHE GOING TO BETRY HIM

HE TOOK HIS SUNGLASSES OFF! HE TRUSTS HER YESSSSS

ohhhh they’re going after the people who hired them yessssss REVENTGE

her name is Zina cool (it’s so sad that I’ve only just remembered it)

FIND YOUR FAMILY AND GET REVENGE!

that is how you do an ending

I am going to loop that song into oblivion, I need that ending injected into my veins!

THE GENDER

Nuria fumbled so hard damn

this is genuinely such an amazing show, it was a journey

I am so ready for Season 2!!!

[kinnporsche]

what is this? another kinn & porsche rec list by tumblr user kinnporsche? it’s more likely than you think! it seems that i literally can’t stop—it’s been an entire year since the finale and i’m still stuck in my self-imposed 24/7 kinnporsche lockdown. so, here’s a bunch more fics that are currently making life worth living for me. once again, this list is ordered according to length (from longest to shortest), and each fic is by a different author (to spread the love)! all fics that are not yet complete have been marked with (wip). lastly, make sure to read the tags, and show the authors some love, because they’re doing the lord’s work! god fucking bless. [part 6/?]

— self-fulfilling prophecy by lazulialekto – explicit / 119.4k words

Porsche stepped forward, dragging his eyes from Kinn’s chest, immediately concerned, “will things go sideways?”

Kinn grimaced, grabbing his glass of whiskey and taking a large swig of the amber liquid. “They often do, especially lately.” His glass clinked as he set it back down, then his hand was running down his face, stressed.

Porsche moved closer, sitting beside him, ignoring protocol completely. “If it’s that dangerous for you to go, can’t you just… not, or change the venue, or something?”

“And let them know I’m worried?” Kinn laughed bitterly as he let his hand drop down to his thigh, the Theerapanyakul family ring glinting in the light of the lamp in the corner. “I can’t do that. In this business a great deal rides on appearances. If I look weak to them, I won’t be the only target.”

— the situationship by verses – explicit / 105k words (wip)

“What about kissing?” Porsche asked, and his heart did a weird thing where it twisted all the way around his lungs and then plunged to his stomach.

Kinn raised a brow at that. “What about kissing? I feel like as the resident straight boy here, you should take the lead on this conversation.”

Porsche swallowed. “Well, do you kiss your boyfriends? In front of your friends and family?”

Kinn shrugged, and for once, the movement didn’t seem entirely effortless. “Sometimes.”

“Okay, then,” Porsche said, licking his suddenly dry lips. With tingly fingers, he added to the contract: ‘Non-sexual kissing allowed to fool participant K’s brother.’

(Or: Kinn, under pressure from the patriarch of the Theerapanyakul family, entices Porsche to enter a fake, contractual relationship with him. In return, Porsche gets money, a sexuality crisis, and a headache.)

— be the best you ever tasted by martynax – explicit / 90.9k words

“What’s your name, darling?” he questions.

“Jom,” Porsche replies after a moment, it makes a snort pass through Kinn’s lips.

“You don’t look like a Jom. Forgive me for repeating myself but you’re a shit liar,” he says once more. He still looks amused, like Porsche is telling jokes. Porsche presses his lips together stubbornly, which makes a small smirk appear on Kinn’s lips; he looks delighted for some reason. “Tell you what, darling, you tell me your name and I will end the session now. How about it?”

(Or: AU where Porsche’s life is shit so he shakes his perky little butt for strangers at a strip club and Kinn books him for a private show.)

— tiger bite by verbana – explicit / 54.7k words

Kinn leaned in, raking him over with his eyes. It felt like hovering over turbulent waters, daring a wave to come and sweep him down. “What are you gonna do to make me remember?”

Porsche reached up and slid a hand through the gap in Kinn’s shirt. Two fingers traced under his left collarbone. “I’ll tattoo my name here. Then all your hookups will have to stop and ask, who’s this?”

“And what should I tell them?” Their faces were too close. Porsche’s fingertips felt like they were plugged directly into his nervous system, lighting up every cell in his body. Red warning lights started flashing in the back of Kinn’s brain but he didn’t care, couldn’t care.

— twelve, twenty, almost thirty by just2wings – explicit / 34.2k words

Kinn is twelve when he falls for the boy with the bubbly laugh and fiery brown eyes, the only one who’s ever been able to pin him to the ground during taekwondo practice.

Kinn is twenty when he runs into him in the school gym, and then again in some shady alley. He falls in love all over again on a golden-lit pier, and then remembers all the reasons he shouldn’t.

Kinn is pushing thirty when he falls into a familiar, handsome bartender’s orbit again, and finally learns to ask for what he wants.

— insatiable by thewayside – explicit / 22k words (wip)

He squints to get a closer look at it and the faintest aroma hits his nose; soft and delicate like cherry blossom petals and cloying like simple syrup they keep in the bar.

(Or: Porsche steals a watch and gets kidnapped by a stinky alpha who maybe isn’t an alpha at all. What should be a one-time thing becomes bigger than either of them realizes.)

— the shape of you fitting me by nuwildcat – explicit / 18.5k words

They say that a person’s scent is a mark of compatibility. The better someone else smells to you, the stronger a bond between you will be. Porsche has smelled a lot of people working as a bartender, and many more intimately in his free time. But he’s never smelt something like this before. The scent of this omega calls to him, tempting and consuming. It’s the kind of scent that makes him inclined to think the aunties were right about destined mates.

And then he meets the omega tied to that scent, and everything just fits.

— he wants more than a tip, i’m not talking about guidance by haeseolar – explicit / 18.1k words

“Everyone, get out.”

The temperature in the room suddenly drops, everything turning still at the sound of Kinn’s voice ringing out, stopping everyone dead in their tracks and slicing right through to them. It’s so silent that you could hear a pin drop, nobody daring to make a move just yet.

“Didn’t you all hear me? Out!” Kinn shouts, nostrils flaring and voice devoid of any of the previous calm he had.

Everyone goes into motion then, even Chan who takes the hint and goes to join the crowd in leaving the gym. Porsche straightens himself up, still clutching over the left side of his chest as he joins the rest in filing out through the doors.

“Not you, Porsche. You stay here.”

— off to the races by mirrorofprinces – explicit / 17k words (wip)

“So, what is it that you do?” Porsche asks. “Have you always been attending the swanky events I bartend at, and I just never noticed?”

Kinn chuckles, the deep timbre of it going straight down Porsche’s spine. “Trust me, if I had ever seen you before, I would have introduced myself earlier.”

— like a serpent coiling around your throat by darkknight – explicit / 9.8k words

“Will I have to beat you into submission?” Porsche said, his voice raspy as he pinned Kinn under him.

Kinn spat at him, specks of blood coating Porsche’s face. “You can try,” he said, turning on his side to take Porsche with him as he kicked out his leg, hitting Porsche in the thigh.

The other man groaned, but quickly punched Kinn in the throat, making the breath leave him as he stood up and pressed a foot down in the middle of Kinn’s chest. The hard leather of Porsche’s shoes digging uncomfortably against his bare skin.

“Khun Kinn, always needing to be in control, but wouldn’t it be such a relief if you. Just. Let. Go?” he said, stressing the last three words by pressing his foot down harder against Kinn’s chest, making his breath come out in a harsh wheeze.

“Fuck. You."

(Or: AU where Porsche is a Yakuza boss and Kinn hates his guts.)

— consider the hairpin turn by concernedlily – explicit / 9k words

“I’m starting to think you like being punished,” Kinn says, sitting primly on his pristine couch, legs crossed.

— i always know by reason_to_write – mature / 8.3k words

His words stuck in his throat. He barely forced it out.

“Kinn…”

Immediately, even with the terrible reception quality, he could sense the shift in atmosphere on the other end of the line. In his mind’s eye, he saw the fearsome mafia leader stop mid-stride and heard the sharp intake of breath. When the voice spoke again, it couldn’t have been gentler.

“Tell me where you are.”

(Or: Porsche gets kidnapped, but Kinn is coming.)

— on the nature of trust by fortunehasgivenup – explicit / 6.1k words

They don’t stop clutching at each other right away.

Even if Porsche had tried, Kinn doesn’t think that he would allow it. He needs to be pressed up against as much of Porsche as he can.

If Porsche is holding on, he stills loves Kinn.

(Or: The aftermath of the iconic bathroom scene—set between episodes 7 and 8.)

— i’ll never surrender (my control over you) by luckydragon – explicit / 5.9k words

Bottoming doesn’t come naturally to Kinn, but he knows how to get what he needs.

— second skin by vesna (mrsronweasley) – explicit / 3k words

By the time they make it back to the house, accompanied by Pete and Arm, Porsche should be exhausted. All the alcohol burned off in his system from the adrenaline of Kinn blowing into the bathroom with a gun and backup, leaving him with a crystalline sort of clarity. That, more than anything, makes him feel wide awake.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

I just can’t wait until the realisation hits all three of them! 😍

Ahhh thanks!

99 sentences for the throuple:

---

“Well, I think you have to make it up to me somehow, Eddie,” Buck says, eyes dipping to Eddie’s lips. If he’s allowed to have this, then please let him have this. 

“Oh,” Eddie exhales. Buck swears he sees his pupils dilate. “I guess you’re right. You did miss out.”

“I did,” Buck agrees. “Very unfair, if you think about it.”

Eddie inhales sharply and shifts on his feet. 

“My son is in the other room.” 

Buck is acutely aware. Otherwise they would not just be talking right now. 

“I can take an IOU,” Buck smirks. 

Eddie’s lips quirk upward. “Is that right?”

“Oh, yeah. I can be patient.” 

“Really?” 

“Moderately,” Buck winks. 

Eddie takes another choppy little breath. Like he doesn’t know what he’s allowed to do. Then, deciding, he steps forward, arm outstretched to reach up and grab Buck’s face. He pulls Buck into a searing kiss. Buck, desperate for it, lets his body take over. Abandons all rational thought. There will be time for thinking later. Right now, all that matters is that Eddie is kissing him. That that’s okay. That Buck wants that. That Eddie wants it. Wants him. 

They kiss for what could be thirty seconds or five minutes. Buck has no idea. Eventually, Eddie pulls away. But he doesn’t go far. He breaks the kiss, steps back a little, and places his hands on Buck’s shoulders. Buck’s not sure if that’s to hold him at bay or remain touching him. 

“We’ll find a time,” Eddie says breathily. It’s half a statement, half a question. 

A time? Buck wonders what that time will be used for. He can only imagine. He wants to imagine. 

“A time,” Buck echoes dumbly. “Sure.”

Eddie smiles. “When we’re alone.”

Yes. That, please. 

“Moderately patient,” Buck says again. 

Eddie just laughs. 

ii.

The next week or so is sort of a whirlwind for Buck. Between Eddie and the lawsuit, he sort of finds himself on a wave of emotional highs and lows. It’s a lot.

It turns out, Eddie was right. Buck didn’t think this through properly. He didn't understand. His lawyer presents him with a settlement offer. A fuck ton of money. Not his job. All he wants is his job. Several million dollars doesn’t really mean anything to him. Maybe that sounds privileged. Bull headed. But he knows what it’s like to be poor. To live out of his car. To have nothing and no one. No purpose. The latter two things were always the harder part, for him. 

Eddie said he wasn’t going to end up alone or forgotten. Proved it to him in a way Buck would never have expected. Made Buck sort of wonder if the lawsuit was a step towards a self-fulfilling prophecy, more than a solution. 

He talks to Eddie before he makes a decision about the money. His impulse is to refuse it. It’s a strong, angry impulse. But the last time he followed that instinct, all of this started, and Eddie implied that one of the things that hurt him about the lawsuit was that he blindsided him with its consequences. He doesn’t want to do that again. Especially now that they’re… Something more than they were. 

“That’s a big fucking check,’ Eddie gapes when Buck tells him. 

“Yeah,” Buck agrees. 

“I didn’t realize your case was actually… Uh, that substantial.”

“Well, I didn’t do it for money!’ Buck insists. “I never even had a dollar amount in mind. I don’t want it!”

“So, what are you going to do?” Eddie asks. “Turn it down?”

Buck shrugs. “What do you think I should do? Do… Do you want me to take it just to end this?”

Eddie looks bewildered. “What? I can’t make that choice for you!”

Well… What? What the fuck is Buck supposed to do to not make the wrong choice, then? 

“I don’t…. I don’t want the money,” Buck says.

[distracteddream]

Ooooh, What They Didn't Say plz 👉👈

I am so close to trashing this one entirely. I’m trying to save it but IDK. This is a post-Roxxcart divorce that was supposed end with a feelings realization/reconciliation but it’s not coming together. I love it but I also don’t know how to write it now. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Basically Loki and Mobius had a sexual relationship pre-Roxxcart. It was to follow canon, including the canon dialogue/scenes, and then deviate. But now I don’t like it because I’m just rehashing canon and the deviation doesn’t work anymore.

With that in mind, here’s a good chunk of it, in case I ended up trashing the whole thing.

He should have known better. Having any interest in a Variant beyond their impact on the Sacred Timeline was well outside the scope of acceptable behavior for an agent. To fraternize with one, if Mobius lied to himself that it was only fraternization and nothing else? Pruning would be the best he could hope for.

And to do so with a Loki? Mobius isn’t quite sure if he’s more mad at himself or at Loki. Probably both equally. He knew what Lokis were like and yet he had hoped… Mobius didn’t know what exactly he’d hoped but it probably didn’t include this disappointment he felt in himself.

Loki starts struggling behind him and Mobius swallows down his bitterness at the thought that Loki is fighting to get back to that Variant.

He chokes on that bitterness as he walks them to an empty Time Theater.

“Well?” Mobius asks.

“Well what?” comes Loki’s snapped reply.

“I know you got some quip you’re dying to say.”

“I don’t have a quip,” Loki lies. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

“Come on,” Mobius prods. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. If for no other reason than the presence of the two Minutemen who will overhear everything. But if Loki really has nothing to say to him now…

“By the way, I should have an equal amount of security. This is insulting!”

Mobius can’t keep a straightface at that. Insulting? Loki is upset. Not because he’s been captured again. Not because he’s been separated from the Variant. Not because he behaved like a capital A asshole to Mobius. No, Loki is upset because he’s insulted that his ego is taking a hit! Mobius would find it hilarious if it didn’t cut so deeply.

“You just can’t help yourself,” Mobius says, as much to himself as to Loki.

“You betrayed me!”

Unhinged. Mobius knows Loki must be absolutely unhinged to say such a thing to him. And Mobius might be just as unhinged, giving into his pettiness as he snaps back. “You betrayed me!”

“Grow up!” comes the frustrated growl over his shoulder.

“You grow up!” Great. Now they both sound unhinged. And juvenile. The doors of the Time Theater open and Mobius has never been so glad he planned in advance for something. He’d wanted nothing more than to find Loki after Roxxcart, but now that he has, Mobius can’t wait to get rid of him for a little while.

But on his terms this time.

“You know,” Mobius starts, strategically choosing his words. “It occurs to me that you’re not really the God of Mischief.”

“Oh, here it comes,” Loki mocks as he tries to tug himself free of the Minutemen. “The folksy dopey insult from the folksy dope.”

Mobius is glad he’s on the other side of the room. Words will hurt Loki more than physical pain ever would - not that Mobius didn’t conveniently arrange for a bit of that too. No, he lets Loki’s barb land and roll off him. The mockery can’t hurt anymore than Mobius already does. But two can play that game. Loki seems to have forgotten that.

“What am I?” Loki asks, still incapable of shutting up once he starts. “The God of Self-Sabotage, yeah? The God of Backstabbing?”

Mobius would agree with both of those at the moment, but he doesn’t take Loki’s bait. If Mobius hopes to genuinely teach Loki a lesson, then he isn’t going to give Loki the satisfaction of his self-fulfilling prophecy.

His mask is fully in place with his TemPad in hand. Mobius looks Loki dead in the eyes. “Just kind of an asshole. And a bad friend.”

Loki freezes, surprise clear on his face as he looks at Mobius. A precise strike, meant to do the most damage and throw Loki off. No one, not even his own mother, knows Loki like Mobius does. They both know it. With just a few words, Mobius cuts him down and lets Loki feel the way he always makes others feel.

Mobius can’t lie that he does feel the tiniest bit of perverse pleasure in hurting Loki back.

“Yeah, chew on that for a bit,” Mobius tells him. He nods at the Minutemen. “Alright, it’s ready.”

The door for the Time Cell opens and Loki balks. “What is this?” He looks back to Mobius for explanation, as though he expects Mobius to hold his hand through it.

The thought makes Mobius go numb. “You’ll see.”

Loki fights against the Minutemen for real now. Mobius almost feels sorry for him.

“Mobius!”

Mobius sighs and gives in. He should have known Loki wouldn’t go quietly after that. And part of him is dying to know what Loki will say which only feeds into his irritation. “Okay. No, no, no. Let him,” Mobius calls to stop the Minutemen. “One last desperate trick from the desperate trickster. Go ahead.”

“The TVA is lying to you.”

Mobius cannot believe what he’s hearing. Well, of course not. How did he ever believe anything Loki ever said to him? Ever whispered intimately in his ear? The TVA isn’t the one lying to him but someone in this room certainly has been. Mobius huffs a laugh. They’re both fools but at least he’s realized that. Hopefully this little exercise will give Loki the same realization.

Mobius gestures to the Time Cell door, a smile on his face. “Put him in.”

[lemonhemlock]

the fact that as of right now, Alys’ role in the story is to be Daemon’s hype man 😭 I almost can’t get past it. The sanitization of Daemon as a character eats up both her and Helaena, because they have to function as beacons to prove Daemon is on the right path in supporting the right ruler. Which now means that like so many other characters, it is very unclear what Alys does next without him. How do you do her relationship with Aemond when she has spent a season fixing Daemon into a better person who understands the part he has to play (in ultimately killing Aemond???) You can repeat the visions and have them make him worse, but I almost don’t believe the show cares enough about Aemond to actually do that. It feels more likely she’s going to be blatantly playing him the entire time, which is the most boring option they could go with. A shame!

I really, really liked the Harrenhal sequences, because I thought its purpose was to be an interesting character study into what makes Daemon tick. But the ending felt so flat, ultimately pointless and very much disruptive to future plot points?

Daemon had a very fatalistic approach to his death in the books. The breakdown of his relationship with Rhaenyra was very much brought about by his own boredom / disillusionment with her, by his lack of conviction in her cause or even by disappointment or shock that she should overreact to Nettles in such a way. When he left to fight Aemond, he felt that there was not much else left for him. Which, again, betrays a very self-centered view, as he still had two daughters and a son left to raise, but that's Daemon for you. I think it's fair to say that he must have felt that taking Aemond and Vhagar out would prove advantageous to his remaining son, at the very least.

But, in any case, he was in a complicated state of mind that could have been interesting to explore on screen and one that was still true to the core of his character. Daemon is a trickster! He is never fully in or fully our of anything. He is unpredictable and considers himself the master of his own destiny. He is the last character to acquiesce to some notion of predestination. He is a schemer to the core and, while I do think he loved Rhaenyra in his own way, his marriage to her always retained a strategic element to it.

Having him unquestionably bend the knee to her is so bizarre. Why? That's his arc in S2? It also undoubtedly turns him heroic, because he has relinquished his egocentric pursuits (wanting the Iron Throne for himself) in favour of fulfilling a prophecy that basically gives indications on how to save the world in the future. So, now, fighting the greens is not a personal, petty vendetta, it's literally ordained by the gods, because otherwise the entire Westeros is doomed if his bloodline doesn't continue. For real? 😩

And, coming back to Alys and Helaena, of course that the women have to aid Daemon, because they know that the blacks are on the right side of history and they are ultimately peacemakers, one and all! 😭

I don't have a problem with Alys blatantly playing Aemond and leading him on, as I've always thought that it would make the most sense for her to be out for herself, but it's a ridiculous demonisation of the greens. And in service of Daemon, the least virtuous of all characters. This conflict is no longer petty squabble between nobles, it's literally occult shit at play now. And none of them even know about this stupid prophecy in the first place. Just anything and everything to make Alicent look bad, I guess.

[housethemd]

hi!! i really love ur writing, u have written some of my fav house fics :3 if i may.... could i get some of ur thoughts on house navigating sex after the infarction? i love the exploration of sex as not just getting off, but as an emotionally intimate, deeply vulnerable act. something to be explored and practiced, something imperfect and deeply personal and unique. lmao anyways sorry for blabbering, i just think u have very good ideas about house and wilson's sexual relationship. u understand them so well

Ahhh thank you anon!! ☺️

So I’m going to start with my thoughts immediately post infarction and work up to Hilson because I have many thoughts!

Okay so I think immediately after the infarction and for a while after House had very little interest in sex. The pain and the drugs he would have been on would have had a negative effect on his libido, but also his tanking self esteem and body image likely would have killed his desire for sex. I think if in the year or so following the infarction if he did have sex, it was likely because he felt he was “supposed to” want sex, not because he actually did. I also personally headcanon that he probably would have started taking viagra or another type of ED medication to help because again, pain and emotional issues have a detrimental effect on sexual performance.

I think that plays into why he starts hiring prostitutes. He feels terrible about his body, insecure about his ability to perform, and he knows a prostitute won’t care. The lack of emotional connection makes it easier for him to set aside his anxieties. He is also literally paying them to cater to him, so it’s easier to ignore the fact that there are positions he just can’t do anymore. I think it would likely be vary hard for him to be on his knees for more than a couple minutes, especially when combined with thrusting, which means a lot of more common sexual positions (missionary, doggy, etc) are now out of the question for him. With prostitutes he doesn’t have to worry about them asking him to take a position he can’t, he simply says he wants them to ride him and they do it without question.

That all to say that from the infarction to whenever he and Wilson get together (whenever you personally like to headcanon that to be) House avoids the emotional aspects of sex like the plague.

Now when House and Wilson get together, House suddenly finds himself with a regular sexual partner who he cares about very much, and who cares about him in return. House can’t avoid the emotional aspects of sex anymore. He worries about what Wilson thinks of the infarction scar during sex, about what if Wilson wants a position House can’t do, House is worried about Wilson finding out he sometimes needs pills to get it up, and it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy.

Wilson I think would try to get House to talk about his limits, requirements, etc early on but House would refuse because he’s built up so many walls he can’t figure how to let them down. Eventually though I think House would be so stressed about Wilson’s thoughts and his own performance that he wouldn’t be able perform at all. This probably makes him angry, convinced Wilson won’t want to be with him anymore because House sees himself as “broken.”

I think once House has had time to cool down, Wilson would finally be able to coax House into talking about it. Wilson probably went into his relationship with House knowing House would have limits, but also knowing House wouldn’t want to talk about them. But when he finally gets House to open up he feels so special. House would admit to needing the pills sometimes, about how he finds some positions hard and some downright painful, about how every time he takes off his pants he worries Wilson will be so turned off by his scar that he won’t want him anymore.

From there they start to explore what House can do. They find new positions, they try out new forms of pleasure when House is having difficulty getting it up (prostate orgasm, anyone?), Wilson kisses House’s scar to show him it doesn’t bother him, that it’s just another part of House. Yeah, Wilson has to prod still to get House to be honest but after a while the honesty comes more easily. House is able to reframe sex in his mind as being a journey instead of a goal. Together House is able to learn whole new ways his body can feel good.

I’m working on writing a fic with the working title “5 times House and Wilson had unconventional sex, and 1 time they didn’t” which explores the fun new types of pleasure these boys get up too, as well as House’s emotional journey regarding sex and how he feels about it and himself. So a bunch of the things mentioned here will be thought out more in depth in that.

Sorry this got so long! But I hope I answered your question and thank you so much for the ask!

[tiedtothetraintracks]

The other night I went to a Halloween party my butch was having at her house. We had been excited about it for weeks. I planned the perfect costumes for us— vampire & victim. For the week or so leading up the party, she started to get worried. What if she’s overcome by lust and unable to maintain her gentlemanly reputation amongst her friends? I would always tell her, “abandon shame”. I say this often when she gets shy or embarrassed. Every time we’d talk about it I would tease that it’s going to become a self fulfilling prophecy. And… yeah, it did.

We start getting ready for the party. My usually flannel clad butch was wearing my flowy low cut top (with a real bra!) and corset. I styled her accessories, stacked necklaces and an askew belt with chains. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her… the best part, is when she’d bend over I could see the waistband of her boxers which was so sexy and gender I couldn’t contain myself and had to cover my smitten grin. She saw the look on my face and laughed at me. Well deserved.

Then, she wanted me to do her makeup. Without saying a word she knelt on the floor in front of me, I was sat cross legged at the edge of her lofted bed. This brought us face to face. Again I avert my eyes and fight a blush coming on. The height kink within me was going wild. And with her on her knees in front of me… the power dynamics felt shifted if even just for a moment. I held her face and smudged black eyeshadow around her eyes. Telling her where to look and when to relax her eyes. When she opened them to look me right in my eyes I knew I was going to be in for a long night.

So the party kicks off, we’re socializing, I’m making impressions on her friends, being my regular social butterfly self. And people keep asking, what’s my costume? I say, a little too eagerly, oh no I’M not a vampire. I motion to my “I ❤️ Vampires” tank top and the “bite marks” on my neck. I’m a willing victim, of course! I’m really into it. It’s like a symbiotic relationship. I say this all with a smile, and I can see her hearing me tell people this… all night, enthusiastically declaring my consent and devotion for my vampire master. This drives her crazy.

Now, she’s having fun at the party. It’s a party full of HER friends. And I’m happy for her you know but, deep down I just want her so bad. I pull her aside and ask if she wants to smoke alone on the porch. We go out there and I say look, you’ve been hyping up for weeks how bad you want me at this party. I want you to want me. Cuz I want you. I think that made something click in her brain because we went back inside and sat on the couch for probably less than 5 minutes. She’s all over me. Hand on my thigh, arm around me, holding me closer.

And you know, I just can’t take it. Her lofted twin bed in her room that’s in the middle of the apartment wouldn’t do. I ask her, looking innocent enough, how busy is your street at this time of night? Oh not busy at all? Great! Let’s go fuck in your car. She agreed immediately. We made a swift exit maybe muttering some kind of excuse of having to get something from the car. I teased her for how easily convinced she was. She had no rebuttal. We got the car, she pushed the seats forward, I got in and hiked my skirt up, she got in on the other side and then she was on me.

Biting into my neck, I moaned loud to let her know how badly I wanted her, how I painfully waited, how I had been so good for her. She wouldn’t let up. Lying me down on the backseat her hand moved down to pull my panties to the side and I was already dripping wet for her. She remarked on this, and said how she heard me declaring myself as her victim all night and now she can’t help herself. I just grinned and leaned back to encourage her teeth in my neck. She sunk them in again, then started slow down below, rubbing my clit lightly and gently but even then I was already going crazy grinding against her. I needed her bad. She always tells me, I’m barely touching you and you’re so needy? Whining for more, she sped up. It didn’t take much and I came so quick, my legs shaking hard. But I still wanted more.

I totally lost count eventually. We were in the car for around an hour and a half. My brain switched off probably halfway through. Finally I sat up and— oh. I had soaked completely through her jeans on her thigh. This was an accomplishment for me! I had a major case of fuckbrain at this point and could really only giggle involuntarily and say incomprehensible nonsense. My makeup was smeared, my hair had come undone, and my neck was covered in hickeys. Despite this, we returned to the party and “acted normal”. Deep down, I loved that it was so obvious. I want everyone to know I’m hers. 💘

[nellyofthevalley]

truths, ch.1

astarion x fem!tav rating: explicit

content: piv sex, fingering, biting/blood drinking, emotionally repressed losers who can't communicate, angst I guess

summary: this fic is mostly an excuse to write a bunch of dialogue bouncing around in my head. astarion is a sad little idiot who turns his fears into a self-fulfilling prophecy because he never learned how to love. it may or may not turn into a tragedy

“As I told you—you broke my cold, dead heart. Of course it was cruel,” Astarion says, melodramatic, hamming it up for her. He wants her to feel guilty for it; he wants her to stop being so tiring and play right into his hand. Make it easy for him.“I don’t believe you,” Tav says. “Everything you say sounds like a pretty lie, and you all but told me that’s what it is. Pretty lies. I’m not interested.”

chapters: ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3 | ch.4 | ch.5 | ch.6 | ch.7 | ch.8

read it on ao3 or below the cut

Camping in the Underdark is unsettling, to say the least. The party hears noises in the distance, reminiscent of the howl of wolves or the songs of birds on the surface, but here, the sounds are warped and unrecognizable, and when they travel, they never meet the creatures that match the sound. Their party travels lighter with fewer bodies, having stricter lookout shifts with more on nighttime patrol. Tonight is Lae’zel and Shadowheart on shift, and Tav can imagine that’s going well. After all, it was only a few days ago they’d been at each others throats. 

At least they are speaking to one another—Astarion hasn’t talked to her for days. Not since she turned him down at the tieflings’ celebration at camp, back by the grove. It would be fine, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s so obvious and awkward; he is clearly avoiding her, and she doesn’t know how to handle it. Avoid him? Act normal? What is normal anymore, anyway? 

She hadn’t meant to let him down so callously; how smug and fake he sounded finally got on her nerves. She didn’t expect him to seem so wounded by it. He was so good at putting on a fake face and fake words, so why was he surprised that she’d rejected him? What did he expect?

‘I’ve gotten on my back ten thousand times or more and forgotten half of them,’ he’d said after. ‘But you... you I’ll remember.’

The words linger in her mind like a parasite, fighting for space with her tadpole. It bothers her that she can’t let this go. Were they just more pretty words he spouted to get her in bed again, or something else? For a moment, it almost seemed like his facade had cracked when he said it. For all she knows, that could've been a performance as well. 

This evening, Tav finds herself in Halsin’s company while she works at her braids, discussing the road ahead. It won’t be long before they’re met with the shadow-cursed lands, and out of them all, Halsin knows the most. He recounts his studies on the curse and tadpole, eager to head off to their next destination despite the danger. Halsin clearly feels a certain responsibility to the cursed lands, though he’s also struggling with leaving the grove behind. 

“They’ll be fine without you—they’re tough,” Tav offers, doing her best to provide some kind of comfort. “You’ll be missed, I’m sure. I’m glad you’re with us, we’re lucky to have you.”

“I remain optimistic that Francesca will strive in my old position. Still, it is difficult to leave my home behind,” he says. “I’m afraid the city will be an even harder adjustment for me. The busy streets and crowds are a far cry from the comforts of nature.”

“There, there, Halsin,” Gale chimes in, joining the group by the campfire. “You might be pleasantly surprised. I admit, the city park has nothing on your lovely grove, but, well. You share the pursuit of knowledge, I assume? Baldur’s Gate is home to many wonderful things—the best of which being an extraordinary bookstore known as Sorcerous Sundries.”

Gale likes to hear Gale talk, so Tav backs off and lets him engage with Halsin in her stead. Her attention turns toward the campfire on this particularly cold night, stretching her arms and hands out in front of her, taking in the warmth it provides. Her own tent is dull and cold, so she can find sleep only once the boys have talked all they can talk and finally leave, allowing her the silence needed to rest.

Tav glances over at Astarion’s tent, and unsurprisingly, he’s nowhere to be found. Likely off hunting, she thinks. Ever since the party and their strange little silent treatment pact started, he’s been getting his fill elsewhere. She used to provide for him—to help him be ‘stronger, fight better,’ as he’d argued. Now, things were too tense to invite him back. 

She finds herself wondering if he’s chasing animals or people. It’s none of her business who he feeds from, but she can’t deny the slight twinge of jealousy eating at her, at the thought of him having his needs met from another ‘thinking’ creature. 

‘Truth be told, you were my first,’ he’d said. Tav felt shame as her cheeks flushed. His first. Something about that sounded so… personal.

Her attention snaps back to the present, settling into the bed roll by the fire, watching the flames frolic. As her eyes start to drift away, the need for sleep washing over her, the sounds of the wilderness become duller, drowned out. She didn’t realize how tired she was, how exhausting this day had been. Her muscles relax, sight fades, and thoughts morph into concepts as she drifts away to the warm comfort of sleep. 

Tav wakes in a sweat. Her skin feels like it’s melting, like she’s being boiled alive; her hands rush to her face, and when she touches herself, the skin oozes off her bones, flowing down her fingers and arms. She tries to scream, and nothing comes out, her mouth a gooey mess dripping onto the ground beneath her.

She tries to stand and flee, but her ankles are already turning into liquid fire. Her body lowers, slowly liquifying into the ground below. She’s helpless, a lost cause; an existence destined to fade away and be lost forever. A voice—her voice—tells her so, tells her ‘give up’.

Tav wakes again, this time with an audible scream. She instinctively jumps out of bed, rising to her knees; hands rush to touch her face again, relief and surprise coursing through her body as she realizes she’s still there. All of her, in one piece; not melting away as her dreams try to convince her. 

She sits upright and tears flow from her eyes, frustrated—these dreams keep happening to her, and she doesn’t understand it. The campfire is all except gone, hardly any flame or heat remains. 

“Tav!” Shadowheart calls to her, running and kneeling beside her. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine, I think,” she gets out, looking over her fingers and feet again, as if she has to remind herself they’re still there, still real. “Just… having nightmares.”

“Chk. If a dream bothers you that much, I question your sanity,” Lae’zel comments in her typical, apathetic tone, approaching the duo. “Soon you may develop a fever, grow tentacles, become ghaik at last—the moment you do, I’ll be ready to strike.”

Tav rolls her eyes, prodding at the campfire, hoping to reignite the tiny flame. Despite her dream, the air is cold, and her bedroll isn’t enough. Shadowheart and Lae’zel head off in separate directions to resume their patrol, and Tav catches Shadowheart glancing back at her on their way out. She seems genuinely concerned for Tav, and it’s nice to know someone does. The others are either sleeping peacefully in their tents or pretending to. Tav wishes it’s the former, hating to make a scene. 

The campfire crackles again, a little flame rising from the wood. It’s a much needed comfort, though not enough to relax and find sleep again. Tav lays on her bedroll, looking up at nothing besides a dark abyss and the faint glow of mushrooms growing far above. 

“Well, didn’t you cause quite the scare?” says a familiar voice—Astarion.

Tav jumps in surprise, leaning up onto her elbows to see him walking over from his tent. The last person she expected to see tonight. 

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” she replies, a bit more haughty than intended. 

Knowing sleep will escape her for some time, she concedes and rises from the bedroll to sit on the log bench by the fire. It’s a silent invitation, how she leaves room for Astarion to join, and he accepts. The atmosphere is quiet, save for a few indescribable sounds in the distance, the very same type they’d learned to accept in the Underdark. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Tav says, willing to make the first move. 

“Darling, I’d say you’ve been avoiding me,” he answers, and it prompts Tav to realize he might be right; maybe it was all in her head and she played a one-sided game. “Tell me about your dreams.”

“What? Why?”

“Can’t I simply wonder what troubles you at night? Our ‘fearless leader’, who shows no weaknesses—yet you wake with a scream, and you weep because of it,” he says, revealing he’s been listening to it all. “Call me worried if it makes you feel better about it.”

“Are you worried about me?” Tav asks, staring daggers at him, challenging him to take off his mask. 

“Possibly,” Astarion answers with a dramatic shrug. “Or maybe I’m curious and you owe me. I told you plenty of my past, of my nightmares, and then you kept your secrets and so cruelly denied me your company. I think you can spare me a sentence or two, dear.”

She can’t tell how much of this is an act and how much isn’t. He’s putting on his usual theatrics, his dramatic tone and way of storytelling, but it’s hard to see beyond it this time. She’s certain he wants to know; she’s not certain if it’s because he’s worried. Or if he is serious about perceiving her rejection as cruel. 

“There’s not much to tell,” Tav offers, now looking away, down to her fingers and the soil beneath her feet. “Tonight, I dreamt my skin was melting off—that’s it. Sometimes, I dream that I’m drowning. Stupid, right? It’s different from other dreams I’ve had. Feels more… real. I feel the pain as my skin turns into lava, I feel my lungs fill with water. Harder to acclimate to reality when I wake.”

She pauses to let him comment, and he says nothing. He’s not even looking at her anymore. He’s staring at the ground too, like they’re looking at the same thing. There’s nothing there besides the dirt and weeds. 

“Did you really think I was cruel?”

“As I told you—you broke my cold, dead heart. Of course it was cruel,” Astarion says, melodramatic, hamming it up for her. He wants her to feel guilty for it; he wants her to stop being so tiring and play right into his hand. Make it easy for him. 

“I don’t believe you,” Tav says. “Everything you say sounds like a pretty lie, and you all but told me that’s what it is. Pretty lies. I’m not interested.”

“It’s not all pretty lies,” he rebukes, almost sounding like he’s taking offense to her skepticism. It’s frustration that he has to work so much harder with her.  “Some of them are ugly, others are pretty truths.”

“Oh? Enlighten me, what truths have you told?”

“That I miss petty vanity,” Astarion answers, keeping it simple; refusing to give more, what she wants him to give. “How it’s hard not to have fun with you.” That one is merely a consolation prize. 

“Is that all?” Tav asks, wondering if ‘fun’ he means that he enjoys himself with her, or if it’s how he so evidently enjoys messing with her. Toying with her emotions.

“For tonight, yes. That’s all you get. You can continue guessing at the rest.”

Astarion meets her gaze now, giving her those sad, red eyes. It might be an act, it might not be—he doesn’t even know himself. It reminds her of the look he wore when she turned him down, and she questions whether that was an act as she’d initially thought. He finds himself entranced by how the orange light from the flames bounce off her pale lavender skin.

He leans into her, watching to see if she recoils or pushes him away. Instead, she keeps staring at him, wide-eyed, and he senses her heart pace a little faster. She smells faintly like blueberries. He can’t resist moving in closer, nose nearly touching her neck and taking in her scent, thinking of how he’ll never get to taste them again; he’ll have to settle for the aroma.

Tav is convinced he’s going to bite her, and she knows she should stop him, but she doesn’t. She braces, waiting for it, and it doesn’t come. Astarion pulls away, and before he can decide where to go from here, she’s taking the initiative and pressing her lips to his. 

His hand instinctively raises to cup her face, deepening the kiss, pushing his mouth to hers like he wants to bruise her. It’s not him, he thinks; it’s something else, something he can’t control.  His tongue seeks entry and she doesn’t deny it, parting her lips with a little sound that he swears makes his stopped heart start again, for only a second. 

When he turns to unbutton her night shirt, movements methodical and practiced, she stops him and pulls away. 

“You don’t want this?” he asks. 

“I do,” she says, that defeated look in her eyes that he can’t tolerate. “Not like this.”

It unnerves him that he knows exactly what she means. How she saw right through him, how she could so easily read his hand movements, experienced and suave; understood another way. How he can’t even bring himself to deny it. She really isn’t like his other conquests. She is special.

She is difficult. 

Astarion moves to leave, to go think about this, or at least think about how to avoid thinking about it, but she grabs his wrist to stop him. He looks back at her, astonished by her audacity, her ability to bother him so.

‘Stay?’ her face asks, and he doesn’t know how to say no or yes. He just sits right back where he was, mind swimming; though not a single one of the swimmers composes a coherent, tangible thought. 

“Darling, you’re freezing,” he observes, picking up on the goose flesh spreading across her arms, and shakes so small, Tav hasn’t even noticed them. The campfire burns away; somehow it’s still not enough to warm her.

“I suppose I am,” she says. “I’d better get used to it. I find it difficult to believe that our journey will be getting much more comfortable anytime soon.”

Astarion sheds his coat, placing it around her shoulders, wondering what he’s fucking doing the entire time.

“It’s always cold for me,” he offers, like he has to justify himself, “and you wear it better.”

[psychewritesbs]

Chapter 219: Bath, part 4—Inner evil

Cursed JJK Sunday. There’s only two types of JJK Sundays--cursed or happy. Today is a cursed JJK Sunday and this has been the week from hell.

Let’s taco about it under the cut.

Anyways. Here comes a tangent!

Megumi this chapter.

Man, I was wondering how Gege was going to move the plot along back into tragedy and deep angst territory, and there you have it. I have to admit that, while some in fandom haven’t liked how he’s been manipulating the mood, I’ve quite enjoyed it. 

It’s just that, in retrospect, what’s happened and the absurdly comical way it’s been executed so that it culminated with one of JJKs Top Depresing AF Moments, is something that I vibed with a lot.

The journey of utter ridiculousness, as per usual, served a purpose for my brain. After all, what’s more depressing than unnecessary tragedy?

So it hit really hard to see Megumi in a state of shock and in the fetal position. I literally shed tears when I saw the panels.

I may be totally projecting here but ever since chapter 216, Megumi has been shown as increasingly infantile. Almost as if his ego is regressing to early stages of emotional development or as though certain emotions experienced in his early life have been triggered.

So when I see Megumi curled up in a fetal position, I can’t help but think of Megumi metaphorically going into a womb-like space, the mother in all of her unconscious glory.

Learned helplessness

And this is such a relevant pose for a character like Megumi who already had to overcome his own limiting idea of himself.

I don’t know how to put it into words without turning this into a conversation about how emotional trauma gets stored in the body (the unconscious) and how it severely limits our sense of self without our conscious knowledge of the fact.

But anyways, watch me overpsychologize the whole thing by saying that learned helplessness is an insidious emotion that directs our thinking and behavior in the form of self-fulfilling prophecy.

So, again, to see Megumi like this, it almost feels like he’s being held back by his own sense of self and that he’s given up on himself.

In other words, he’s not even trying to win by dying, but rather gave up fighting by metaphorically dying.

What’s interesting is the idea that “after taking his sister Tsumiki’s life, Fushiguro’s soul sinks into the abyss”. Perhaps it really just comes back to seeing his body act without his conscious will in ways that are harming others, more specifically the one person he wanted to protect most.

But I much prefer the idea that Megumi can’t tell the difference between Sukuna as evil, and the evil within--Megumi as evil. Whatever that looks like and however Gege executes, if he indeed executes like this.

Anyways, Spooky wrote about it and I wanted to add some thoughts to their post because there’s so much symbolism and Jungian shadow metaphors at play with Megumi right now... Spooks, I promise I am on it.

But all of this brings me full circle to...

The Gospel of Sukuna

Sukuna continues to appall me with his inhumanity and his cruelty. 

And this is so weird to say as the weirdo who infamously published an ode to Sukunaism and the gospel of Sukuna, and then went ahead and hailed it as the way of the highway.

It’s just that, from my perspective, this whole battle sequence against Yorozu has been nothing but an attempt at traumatizing Megumi. Like, yes, it’s obvious because he said he was after Tsumiki’s life in order to sink Megumi. 

What I mean more specifically is that the latest chapters showed us the lengths Sukuna will go to in order to achieve his goal and I wonder whether Sukuna could have killed Yorozu from the start but instead delayed doing so because he knows Megumi is watching. So he toyed with Yorozu to hurt Megumi and like... I love Sukuna but he’s such a selfish and cruel bastard.

And this is the thing... I want to reject Sukuna’s evil so bad ever since he took  Megumi and left Yuji behind in shambles. 

I hate it. 

He’s just an awful, inconsiderate and right out evil being. That’s the whole point of Sukuna, right?

So I want to denounce his selfishness and say “no, fuck him, I’m leaving the church of Sukuna, he can find another social media manager! I will not stand by his cruelty”

But I can’t because to denounce Sukuna is to denounce a part of me. There is, after all, a little bit of Sukuna in everyone. Every single human being has a propensity for evil inside of them and I am, of course, not the exception.

Sukuna is the kind of mind free from reason to the point that it is divorced from personal responsibility to the collective. True evil. The completely pathological and utter lack of empathy for another living being and their suffering in favor of self-gratification.

Recently I watched a documentary about a girl who would have grown up to be a serial killer as a result of the abuse she experienced as a child. The abuse, the documentary argued, resulted in her inability to develop empathy for others, which in turn translated in anti-social behavior like hurting her brother and defenseless animals.

But I think it’s also easy to think of evil in grandiose terms such as something we encounter in extreme cases like the example I mention above, or even hell or something that other people do. Not us, never us. 

It is far easier to look at evil as some distant trait that is foreign to our sense of self than it is to accept that the many micro-aggressions we commit on an everyday basis can also be considered evil. Micro-aggressions that are pure instinct devoid from reason.

Like, for those of you who play around in twitter, how many hateful posts are you exposed to on a daily basis? Name calling, putting other people down, hating... how is that any different from Sukuna? 

Oh, of course, most people aren’t mass murderers.

To denounce Sukuna is to denounce the totality of your Self. It means to repress inner evil so deep into your shadow where all it can do is fester until it takes a mind of its own and seeks an outlet--like harassing others on twitter over a disagreement of opinion.

So anyways, Gege’s brand of hurt and self-hate is something else entirely.

He’s worse than those women from CLAMP if I’m honest.

For those who’ve read CLAMP, then you know their stories can be very depressing and that Okawa Nanase, the group’s writer, hurts her characters with calculated abandon.

It’s fascinating to say the least.

But not Gege. 

Gege is cruel and perhaps no one reflects that quite as well as Sukuna does.

Anyways...

To anyone who reads, thank you as always and looking forward to your thoughts and comments if you have any that you’d like to share. 

If you’ve sent me an ask I promise I am working on answering you and thank you as always for your patience.