#as a system we are correct about this /silly

[graveyard-sys666]

Nathan wallace from repo! is a system and here are his (known) altars:

- Nathan: host, the one who helps look after shilo and deals with the buissness side of being the repo man, special interest in medicine.

- "repo": cohost and protector, protects the body from having to do the job of being the repo man and deals with convincing rotti that they are a good repo man and can continue doing it. shares nathans spintrest but more on the anatomy side of it

- "monster": persecutor, is the one to go after shilo and is the one shilo recognises as being her fathers "replacement"

- "mr marni": holder, deals with both the memories and and the guilt of losing marni and having to raise shilo on their own.

[primary-colors-no-more]

being blurry? Without a headache? What is this tomfoolery?

[shadowvalkyrie]

There are a lot of things about Taskmaster that feel very... culturally British. That mixture of extreme silliness with occasionally very dark humour for example.

Or the particular tone of affectionate bullying and the way it's (mostly) taken in good humour. (And expected to be taken in good humour, even when it hits a nerve. Something that caused quite a bit of bad blood between the Brits and the Germans in my former workplace, because we generally don't shrug off insults that easily.)

But I think one difference is sort of... simmering under the surface in ways that aren't immediately obvious to international audiences (and makes me wish I was still writing uni papers, because it would be a GOLDMINE), is how much of the humour is based on the British class system.

I mean, the basic premise of "tyrannical taskmaster makes people jump through arbitrary hoops for his favour and then belittles them for doing so" is already something only an audience with a slightly monarchical bend would accept unquestioningly. Add to that the way the Taskmaster/Assistant relationship is set up... Let's just say it fetishises a social dynamic that doesn't exist in quite the same way elsewhere.

Which I think may partially explain why so many people seem to be oblivious to the D/s undertones. -- Of course it's often kink-blindness on the part of non-kinky people, but I strongly suspect it's helped along by the cultural perception of what constitutes an acceptable power differential acting as a buffer to seeing anything off about it. The threshold for when it becomes weird is different.

Now, I think (and since I'm not British, do correct me if I have it wrong!) a key part of what makes the basic premise funny to British audiences (and differently from how it's funny to international ones) is the way cultural expectations of power vs submission are subverted.

Purely based on accent? Alex is the posh one. By miles. And Greg -- very pointedly! -- doesn't do the matching Fauxbridge that most viewers would probably expect from someone presented in a position of authority (or even just a "neutral" BBC accent). It seems bizarre from a foreign point of view, but I've found that this kind of discrepancy immediately and viscerally registers with Brits. (It's uncanny how little it takes, too -- ask your favourite non-TM-aware English person to just listen to the different ways they say "taskmaster" and they will extrapolate things you cannot even imagine.) Instead of just the regional connotation, there are always implications of class and social status to an accent that are absolutely baffling to the unaware.

Add the fact that Greg Davies is from Wales, and a lot of English people have a weird colonial superiority complex towards Welsh people to this day... It's enough to make all these obvious gestures of devoted subservience from Alex very unexpected and therefore funny.

(Also notice how it adds interesting layers to Katherine Ryan buying Greg a fake lordship title? And makes it funnier in a way she may not even have fully been aware of herself, being Canadian? It's delightfully irreverent and pokes fun at the whole system.)

My guess is that this is also why the studio audience's reaction to linguistics-based jokes is always so strong. Lets take the recurring bit about Alex correcting Greg's grammar. To an international audience, the main joke is that Alex is a nerd and cares too much about grammar, with maybe a side of him being a smartarse towards his boss in a potentially ill-advised way. But to a British audience, the level of audacious insubordination implied there? Much stronger. Wildly offensive thing to do. (And a level of arrogance that is extra hilarious coming from someone shown to be sleeping in a dog bed.)

The same mechanism also puts Alex's snide little asides towards contestants with regional or "urban" accents into perspective. Offensive dick move on his part? Oh yes, extremely. But the audience is very much not supposed to be on his side in this. He's being a bigoted little bully, and either the contestants get to humiliate him in retaliation (it's certainly not a coincidence that the Welsh and Irish contestants are generally the ones having the most fun putting him in his place) or Greg calls him out on it in the studio. In a society in which Alex's brand of micro-aggression is still incredibly commonplace and accent discrimination a widely accepted default, it's actually very cathartic to see it openly acknowledged and condemned.

I mean Tumblr obviously loves Alex, because he's cute and funny and we love the Greg/Alex D/s thing (I'm definitely guilty of this as well), but we have to remember that -- in the context of the show's premise -- his character is supposed to be pathetic and ridiculous, so when Greg does the "next to me a man who once told me while drunk that he thinks regional accents are inversely correlated to intelligence" intro thing, we're meant to see it as an asshole opinion that is actually unacceptable to hold and no one in their right mind would openly admit to. So Greg is humiliating Alex by (supposedly) exposing him as someone who would spout that kind of opinion. (Same as the jokes about Alex's misogyny. I see people criticise these jokes all the time, but I think that's because they refuse to understand how the underlying mechanism actually works and take them at face value as the real Alex's actual opinion, rather than something deliberately assigned to his in-show character to make a point about them being terrible.)

[makoodles]

tìtunu | tsu'tey (part 4 | nsfw)

pairing: tsu'tey x human fem reader

word count: 10k words

warnings: nsfw, jealousy, hurt/comfort, size difference, p in v sex, doggy-style, rough (?) sex

notes: i really though that i was finished with this, but y'all got me with the asks about jealous and protective tsu'tey 😭 (also this gif makes me fucking FERALLLL)

read it on ao3

part one | part two | part three (nsfw) | part 4 (nsfw) masterlist

Tsu’tey doesn’t think he’s ever been so smug in his whole life.

He survived the battle with the Sky People, he has healed from his wounds and come back even stronger, and he has been successful in his mating advances with his chosen mate. 

The fact that his chosen mate was one of the little sky demons that he hates so much, was a surprise to the whole village (he had surprised himself too, truthfully) but everything is different with you. You are not destructive, you are not harmful – you study the flora and fauna of his planet with the reverence of a wide-eyed child, and he finds it terribly endearing. You are so small, and his planet can be such a harsh place for one as soft as a human. It’s a constant source of frustration and concern, despite his best efforts to handle and minimise possible risks.

“You are certain?” He demands of the Sky Person in front of him.

The man is one of the so-called scientists that live in the pathetic excuse for housing that the alien demons had built in the forest after the rest of the Sky People had been forced off the planet. There’s not many of them; the ones who stayed were approved by the few loyal demons, and they are largely respectful of the native populations as they try to integrate as much as they are allowed. That does not mean that Tsu’tey trusts them, and it certainly doesn’t mean that he likes them.

“Yes,” The little man in front of him says, visibly nervous. He swallows thickly, his heavy breaths fogging up his odd little mask. “Yes, we tested all the fruit you brought, and they all came up safe for human consumption. A human digestive system wouldn’t be able to break down something like meat from Pandoran animals, but the fruits you brought should be fine. Chemically, it’s quite similar to fruits we have back on Earth-”

Tsu’tey just grunts. He does not care about Earth's fruits. All he wants to know is whether he can feed you some of the fruits that he has foraged, and now that he has gotten his answer he is not inclined to stand around and listen to the little man bumble along any longer.

 Without another word he turns and strides away, reaching his pa’li and pulling himself astride her with ease before urging her forward into the forest. At a swift pace, he reaches the village in no time and from there he moves quickly to find you.

Unsurprisingly, he finds you beneath one of the pxiut trees. You have your notebook open in front of you as you lay on your belly making your silly little notes, totally absorbed in your work. As he approaches, he takes the opportunity to look you over.

You appear content, head bowed over your work as you write. The bright sunshine filters in through the trees overhead, sending dappled patterns over your exposed skin. Seeing your strange human form dressed in the traditional clothes of the Na’vi always sets Tsu’tey alight, and his tail swishes appreciatively as he admires you.

“Hello, demon,” He murmurs when he reaches you, lowering himself to his knees out of pure habit. It has become second-nature to lower himself to your level when he’s around you – he enjoys the closeness of it.

You hum. Though you don’t lift your eyes from your work, a smile is beginning to curve your lips. “Is that any way to greet your mate?”

Tsu’tey’s lips quirk in response, and he leans in so his nose is nuzzling into your hair. You lean into him in a move that’s mostly automatic, and he feels a flare of smug pleasure at the ease with which you melt against his side.

“My little demon,” He corrects himself with a sardonic little grin, enjoying the way you roll your eyes fondly. “I have brought you food. Will you eat?”

Your eyes dart to his immediately, visibly uncertain. He already knows what you’re thinking, and he tries not to wince. 

“It is safe,” He says quickly. “I asked one of the tawtute. They did tests.”

Your expression changes then, your grin growing sharper. “Aw, look at you taking care of me, huh?”

He can tell by your tone of voice that you’re teasing him, but that doesn’t stop the swell of pride in his chest. Yes, he is taking care of you. It’s always gratifying when his efforts are noticed, and he tries not to look too smug as he reaches out to touch you. 

You are laying on your belly with your notebook in front of you, so his hand comes to rest on the back of one of your thighs. You are so small beneath him, so soft and squishy compared to the lean hardness of most Na’vi bodies. He can’t resist squeezing just slightly, just to watch the squidge of your thighs poke out between his spread fingers.

You roll your eyes at him – you know exactly what he’s doing, after all. He has not been very successful at keeping his fascination with your little pliable body a secret, and why should he? You are his mate, and you belong to him as surely as he belongs to you. Getting to touch you like this is a privilege belonging only to him, and he wishes to get as much out of it as he can.

“I always take care of you.” He says, and your smile softens.

“Yeah, big guy, you do.” You say, and the fondness in your voice is so obvious that it makes Tsu’tey’s hardened heart tremble a little in his chest.

His hand slides up your plush thighs and comes to a rest over the swell of your backside, relishing the heat of your skin even through the tewng covering you. You’re even softer here, nothing but squidge, and he allows himself a moment to indulge in squeezing you here too as you laugh.

“Alright, pervert,” You snicker, closing your notebook and pushing yourself up. “You can’t just start feeling me up – we’re in public.”

Tsu’tey’s hand falls away as you move to stand, and he has to fight the urge to pout hard. “The People know that we are mated in the eyes of Eywa.”

“That doesn’t mean that it’s okay to traumatise them all like this.” You snort. “I don’t think anyone wants to see you groping me in broad daylight.”

Many of the People have a sort of morbid curiosity about how mating with a tawtute works, so Tsu’tey isn’t entirely certain that you’re correct in that assumption. There are many who would be only too pleased to watch. But he doesn’t argue; you are beginning to push yourself to your feet, so he stands too. 

“What is pervert?” He asks, looking down at you as you stretch your arms overhead and yawn. 

Truthfully he gets distracted for a moment, admiring your soft belly and exposed skin in Na’vi clothes – if he could burn all your human coverings without you getting angry at him, he certainly would. He wants to see you dressed in the clothes of his People all the time.

You laugh as if he had said something very funny. “A pervert is what you are.”

“Is it a bad thing?” He wonders, reaching out so that his hand rests on the back of your neck across your shoulders. 

Your eyes flutter closed as he kneads lightly at the base of your neck. “No,” You murmur softly. “Not when it’s you.”

He relaxes, nodding decisively before reaching for your small hand. “Come. You will eat and watch me train.”

It’s become almost like a routine for him to drag you with him to practice fighting or sparring. While you don’t come with him every day, he has managed to bring you often enough that the sight of you trailing behind him towards the training ground is a familiar one for the young warriors in training. 

As he leads you towards the training grounds, he sees the few young warriors gathered around the archery practice range turn to watch his approach. Their eyes flicker towards you – though they never say anything about it, he knows that their curiosity is burning at the sight of you at Tsu’tey’s hip. The apprehension and caution about the Sky People is still very much embedded in their hearts and minds, and yet you are probably the least intimidating thing they’ve ever seen in their lives.

Tsu’tey imagines that his own interest and desire for you only fuels their curiosity further. He had gained somewhat of a reputation for himself before he had met you; he is the strongest warrior in the clan, he had been trained from a very young age for leadership, and he is a prominent and well-respected figure within the village. He was much desired as a mate by many women in the clan.

 So when he chose you, the small and soft demon that is entirely unsuited to their planet, it was a source of surprise to many. Yet he is lucky – his people are supportive, even when they do not understand his choice of mate. Even if some of the women remain slightly disgruntled with him.

“You will sit over here,” He pushes you gently towards a clearing, out of the way of the other Na’vi that tower over you, to a spot where you will be safe. “You can see well, from here.”

It’s important that you have a good view, after all. He likes it when you watch him – it’s satisfying to give you a display of his physical strength and his skills, to remind you that he is a strong mate for you.

You just sit down where he’s directed you, and smile eagerly at him. He knows that you enjoy watching him too, and his tail swishes in anticipation. If you are pleased with what you see, it can only mean good things in store for him later.

“What are you up to today, then?” You ask, lounging back in the soft mossy ground against the stump of a tree.

“Spear training, and then hand to hand combat.” He says, reaching into the small bag around his waist. He pulls out the soft wrapped leaf package that he had prepared earlier and hands it to you. “Fruit. Eat.”

You take the wrapped fruit from him and peer at it with curiosity, poking at it with your small fingers. You seem pleased, and take a breath before lifting your mask so you can pop the fruit in your mouth before replacing it.

“It’s good,” You say, smiling, before tilting your head up at him with a faux-innocent expression. “So, do I get to see you all oiled up and wrestling some other super muscly man?”

That makes him chuckle, and he reaches out to stroke a single finger over the top of your head. “Would you like to see that?”

“Oh yeah,” You hum, and your grin behind your mask is unmistakably suggestive. “Definitely.”

His own grin grows sharp, and he bends on one knee so that he can be at eye-level with you. “I can oil myself up and show you wrestling later, after eclipse.”

That makes you laugh, tilting your head back with delight. “Oh, that’s so corny.”

He has no idea what that means, corny, but you look happy so it must be a good thing. He leans down and kisses the top of your head before straightening up. From behind, he can hear some of the younger warriors in training begin to call his name.

He gives you one last lingering look before turning and making his way towards the others.

Training takes the better half of the afternoon. 

He demonstrates spear throwing techniques, he corrects postures and methods, he shouts criticisms and praises by turn. Every so often he glances towards you, mostly out of habit – you have pulled out your little book at some point, and are making notes again. Every single time, without fail, you look up as though you feel his eyes on you. And every time, you beam at him and his heart stumbles a little in his chest. Burying his reactions as best he can in front of his fellow warriors, the most Tsu’tey allows himself is the flick of a single ear.

When they finally do get to hand to hand training, he sees you visibly perk up and his ego inflates significantly. It is so very gratifying to be able to train and show off in front of you, especially when he successfully overcomes his opponents. 

He can feel your watchful eyes on him all the time, pushing him harder and harder as he wrestles with warrior after warrior. The young ones in training watch on too, eager to learn, but the only gaze he truly cares about is yours.

Eventually, he takes a break from tumbling around the square that had been cleared off specifically for training and steps to the side so that he can observe some of the young ones in training practice their form. While he attempts to focus on calling out constructive criticism, he can’t stop his eyes from darting towards you occasionally.

Though your notebook is splayed out front of you, you are making no effort at all to hide the fact that you’re watching him. His chest is heaving and a thin layer of sweat coats his body, and he can feel the weight of your stare dropping slowly over the length of him. It makes him feel hot and itchy, and he has to fight to keep himself from marching right over to you and doing something very stupid indeed.

He is so distracted by your stare that he almost doesn’t notice when one of the other warriors sidles up to him. It is Takuk, and he is watching him with an amused sort of expression.

“Brother,” He greets him, offering the customary gesture of respect. “You are distracted today.”

His statement is nothing but the truth, but Tsu’tey bristles anyway. Takuk had been a hunter trainee not too long ago himself, but has developed into a man in the last year; he has claimed an ikran, he wears a battle band around his waist, but he has not yet taken a mate. Tsu’tey dislikes the way he is looking at you, considering you are already claimed.

“I am not distracted.” Tsu’tey lies through his teeth. His tone is sharp enough that he hopes it will dissuade Takuk from this line of conversation.

Takuk just hums, clearly unconvinced. He has grown irritatingly confident since his iknimaya. He looks over to where you’re sitting; you’ve lowered your head once more to scribble in your book, and Takuk takes the opportunity to squint at you.

“What is it like, being with one of them?” He asks, casting a slant-eyed glance back at Tsu’tey. “Is she not too… small?”

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes around his ankles, though he keeps his expression carefully contained. He is proud to be mated to you, but he does not like questions like this. He does not like to think that Takuk is imagining you like that.

“She is small,” He acknowledges, his voice clipped. “But not too small.”

It is enough to answer his question without giving him details, but Takuk grins as though what he has said is much more revealing than it truly is. When he looks back over in your direction again, Tsu’tey tenses.

Takuk notices, and sighs. “Brother, I am only asking. We are curious about your mate. You are so protective of her.”

Tsu’tey rolls his shoulders, considering. This is not untrue. The curiosity of his people is blatant, and mostly harmless; perhaps he has been too protective, but he has always been a private man.

“It works.” He says at last. It feels a little as though the words are being pulled from him by force. “She is small, and strange, but it works.”

Takuk’s ears twitch forwards in amusement, but he wisely decides not to make a smart comment.

“Even though she cannot make tsaheylu?” He wonders, low and quiet.

Ah. So that is the source of all their curiosity. Tsu’tey supposes he cannot blame them for that. It is a most unusual relationship he has with you, after all. Tsaheylu is the building block of all life on Pandora, and it is how every living creature interacts with the world around them. To have taken a mate that is unable to make this bond would be almost unthinkable to many Na’vi. Tsu’tey supposes he cannot blame them for that morbid curiosity – it would have been unthinkable for him once, too.

“Even though she cannot make tsaheylu.” Tsu’tey confirms quietly. “She sees me anyway.”

Takuk is thoughtfully silent at that, which Tsu’tey is mercifully grateful for. That was a little too vulnerable for his tastes, and he ends up clearing his throat and straightening his shoulders in an attempt to regain some of his authority. 

“Back to training.” He says firmly, reaching out to push at Takuk’s head. “No more making eyes at my mate.”

Takuk just laughs, his ears twitching with good humour. “It is not me you need to tell, brother,” He says, before tilting his head pointedly in your direction. “It is the trainees that are so curious about her.”

Tsu’tey follows his gaze. Sure enough, you are no longer alone in your spot at the side of the training grounds. Several of the hunter trainees are crouched near you, watching you with big curious eyes as you chat to one of the young Na’vi that has been bold enough to creep forward. It is At’u, one of the foremost young men in training.

Tsu’tey’s ears flatten when he sees the way At’u’s tail is coiling. It is the universal signal of interest among their kind, and the audacity of the younglings infuriate him.

Without waiting another moment, Tsu’tey strides your way. He can hear Takuk starting to laugh from behind him, but he ignores him; he is precision-focused on you and the jumped up little shits around you.

When At’u reaches out to touch the hair on your head, Tsu’tey’s vision goes black around the edges. Anger bubbles up in his chest; curiosity is one thing, but having the insolence to touch you right in front of Tsu’tey’s eyes is another thing.

When Tsu’tey reaches you, you look up at him with a smile. He doesn’t return it; he’s too busy levelling a dark glare At’u’s way, his ears flat and tail held low. The youngling’s tail coils low in response, but he does not move away from you.

Tsu’tey hisses at him, baring his sharp teeth as he rounds on the rest of the trainees. They scatter almost instantly, scrambling to flee back to the training area. At’u flees too, flinching hard before following after his friends.

“Tsu’tey!” You hiss at him, visibly horrified. “That was so rude! They were only curious-”

 He’s still glaring at the backs of the young trainees as he crouches down in front of you, but after a moment he turns to look at you. Your brows are scrunched, your eyes flared a little in outrage as you scowl at him. Oh, you look angry with him. It’s more adorable than you probably mean it to be.

“They do not know their place.” He mutters, scooching a little closer to you.

“They’re children!” You protest, rolling your eyes.

“They are training to be hunters and warriors.” Tsu’tey grumbles. As cute as you are when you’re angry, he doesn’t like being on the receiving end of it. “They know what they’re doing. They will be eligible to pick a mate after iknimaya.”

That makes you pause, and your eyes flicker carefully over his face. 

“Are you…” You begin slowly. “Are you jealous? They’re going to pick Na’vi mates. Besides, I already have a mate.”

Warm satisfaction pools in his chest, and he scooches closer to you yet again. Something deep within him eases now that you’re within arms reach.

“Did you not see the way they were twitching their ears at you?” He murmurs, brow furrowing. You hesitate, and his tail lashes in agitation. “I knew it! You do not even see how they act-”

“Oh, hush,” You sigh, reaching out to pet the side of his face. “You’re being silly. Why would I want anyone else when I have a big handsome beefcake like you, huh?”

Tsu’tey has no idea what beefcake is, but you sound pleased when you say it so he imagines it is a good thing. 

Your thumb strokes over his cheek, and then you frown and reach out to wipe under his nose. “You’re bleeding.”

He had received an elbow to the face at some point during hand to hand combat, but it feels only mildly tender now. Still though, when you begin smoothing away the blood with your thumb he leans into your hands. It feels good to be cared for. 

“Does it hurt?” You wonder, peering closer as you try to assess the damage.

“No,” Tsu’tey snorts, a little offended. How weak do you think he is? But then you start to pull away, taking your little hands away from his face, and he’s quick to add, “A little. Will you care for me later?”

That makes you laugh, and his ears wiggle smugly when you lean forward to bump your forehead against his. 

“Yes,” You whisper, grinning up at him. “I’ll take real good care of you.”

His tail thumps off the ground, his mouth beginning to curl in an eager smile. Your eyes are lingering around his sweat-slick chest and your thumb strokes over his bloodied nose, gentle over his bruised skin. He fights the urge to lean in further into your grasp, though it’s difficult.

“You watched me train?”

You huff a soft laugh. “Of course. Couldn’t tear my eyes away. You looked good, big guy.”

Tsu’tey swears he feels his whole heart thump heavily in his chest. There is a bone-deep satisfaction that settles over him at the confirmation that you see him as someone worthy, a good mate. It soothes the edges of his jagged pride and makes him feel whole.

“I am happy to have pleased you,” He murmurs sincerely, tucking his ears low as he meets your eyes. Your eyes soften, and you brush the last remnants of blood from his nose before taking your hand back. “Would you like to watch further?”

You hum in thought for a moment, before shrugging. “I think I’ll head back to the kelku. I wanted to cross-check some notes I took today with my other research.”

Tsu’tey has never been able to make much sense of your science talk, but he inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Then I will meet you back at home, ma’yawntutsyìp.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Tsu’tey’s feels as though he’s crawling out of his skin. He runs through the rest of his duties on autopilot, offering criticism and compliments by turns to the young warriors and hunters throughout the day, but his mind is preoccupied with thoughts of you the whole time.

It’s a struggle to stay focused. He keeps thinking of your eyes tracing over his chest and stomach, of your soft hands on his face, of your coy promise to take care of him later. It feels almost physically painful to force himself to finish out training with the others, but he pushes himself anyway.

It’s nearing evening when he finally begins to finish up, delivering his last few instructions to the young hunters as they begin to ready themselves to return to the village. He’s antsy, watching impatiently as the young ones push and laugh at each other.

When Takuk approaches him again, he has to fight not to roll his eyes – he has picked up too many of your little human mannerisms already.

“Your aim has improved.” Tsu’tey grunts, preoccupied with slinging his bow back over his shoulder.

Takuk perks up, visibly pleased with the compliment. He inclines his head in thanks, before leaning his weight casually back on one leg as he watches Tsu’tey pack up. He’s no doubt noticing that he’s moving with an unusual sense of urgency.

“Your mate is waiting for you, hm?” He asks, his mouth twitching.

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes in warning. He doesn’t like Takuk’s teasing tone, but he can’t help the anticipation that’s building in his stomach at the thought of getting back to you after your teasing throughout the day.

“Yes,” Tsu’tey grunts. “I will bring her fruit.”

Takuk nods, clearly approving, before looking to his feet. He appears to be thinking, and Tsu’tey waits as patiently as he can for him to speak again.

“I am thinking of taking a mate soon,” The young warrior says at last, still keeping his gaze low. “Do.. Do you think that Kaey’ra would have me?”

Tsu’tey pauses to give his question some thought. “Yes. I think she would. It would be a good match.”

Takuk’s shoulders loosen, and his ears rotate forward in satisfaction. It is a confidence booster for Tsu’tey too – it is nice to have his opinion so valued by one of his past students, now a peer. He is happy for his friend, and Tsu’tey claps him on the shoulder. 

“I must plan a courting display,” Takuk murmurs, his brow lowering thoughtfully. “I will-”

He cuts himself off, staring somewhere behind Tsu’tey’s shoulder. Frowning, Tsu’tey turns to follow his gaze only to be met with the sight of one of the young warriors approaching him with his tail tucked low between his legs.

“Ma’Tsu’tey,” He greets, his ears flattened anxiously against his head. “I am sorry-”

“What.” Tsu’tey interrupts, his eyes narrowing. The sight of the youngling all twisted and anxious leaves a bad feeling settling into his stomach. “What is it?”

The youngling looks as though he would rather be anywhere else other than right there. “It’s just.. Your mate is-”

Tsu’tey’s stomach plummets to his feet, and he takes a step forward. His teeth bare without conscious thought. “Where is she?”

The young hunter flinches, but to his credit he doesn’t step back. “She is with tsahìk-”

It feels as though Tsu’tey’s brain has been filled with static panic. He’s hardly aware of turning away from the warriors and racing away, his feet pounding hard against the ground as he shoulders his way past the young trainees that are still lingering around the training area.

The only reason for you to be with Mo’at is that you are injured, and the thought fills Tsu’tey with a bone-deep, nauseating fear. He was only apart from you for a few hours at most – how could you have gotten hurt in such a short space of time? He thinks of your fragile bones, your thin skin, your diminutive stature; he knows that the answer is all too easily.

He can’t help himself from conjuring up worst-case scenarios – he imagines you broken and bleeding, unconscious, crying from pain, calling for him when he’s too far away to hear you. He feels sick as he reaches the village, making a beeline for the tsahìk’s hut.

“Move,” He snarls at someone who walks across his path. He’s blind with panic, hardly even sees who he’s snarling at. They jump out of his way as he storms past, practically diving his way towards the tsahìk’s home.

Usually, Tsu’tey prides himself on his grace and agility. He has always been the best warrior in the clan, and one of the most decorated hunters – his training has left him swift and dextrous. And yet now he finds himself stumbling, acting like a fear-stricken fool as he ducks his way into the hut.

Mo’at doesn’t even glance up at his unceremonious entrance, though you do. You’re perched carefully in the corner, with the tsahìk hunched over you as she carefully wraps your forearm with plant-fibre bandages. The whole space smells like the medicinal herbs used for healing – he guesses that she’s spread healing paste over you.

Something loosens in his chest at the sight of you unbloodied and conscious, though he doesn’t relax just yet.

“Oh, shit.” You sigh when you see him, before offering him a weak little smile.

“What has happened?” He demands, ducking his way under the dried herbs hanging from the woven ceiling as he makes his way towards you.

Mo’at still doesn’t look away from her work. “Where are your manners, Tsu’tey?”

Her tone is sharp enough to chasten him, but he does not relent completely. He comes to a stop over Mo’at’s shoulder and attempts to lean over her in an attempt to see what she’s doing, his tail whipping anxiously around his feet.

When he spots your arm, he makes a wounded sort of noise. Your wrist is all swollen, and if he looks closely he can see the beginning of discolouration around the joint as it begins to bruise. He ends up dropping to his knees beside you. In his haste, he almost pushes Mo’at aside, oblivious to the sharp look she sends his way. 

“What happened, ma’muntxate?” He demands, reaching out to take your wrist in his hand so he can get a better look.

Mo’at knocks his hand away with a resounding slap before hissing a sharp warning at him. “Do not touch while I am bandaging!”

“Is it broken?” He asks, whirling to face the tsahìk. His tail curls around your thigh, squeezing tight as he seeks reassurance in the form of your soft, warm flesh.

“It’s fine-” You start to say, but Tsu’tey isn’t listening to your attempts at placating him.

“It is a sprain.” Mo’at says. Her tone implies that she is sick of dealing with him already, but he pays her no mind.

“How did this happen?” He asks yet again, shuffling forward on his knees so that the bulk of his body is curling around you. There is no danger here in Mo’at’s tent, but it makes him feel better when he hunches protectively around you.

“It’s no big deal,” You say quickly, clearly attempting damage control. “I just- I fell, and I landed a little awkwardly-”

“Fell where?”

That makes you pause, and Tsu’tey’s expression flattens as he waits for your answer.

“Um.. The ladder,” You murmur, glancing down at your lap. “The ladder that leads to the kelku. I slipped climbing up it, and fell. But it wasn’t from very high.”

He hadn’t thought it possible, but he feels his stomach sink even further at that. Fuck, it was his fault. The vine ladder he had woven for you was only meant to be a temporary measure to help you climb up into your shared kelku in the high trees until he could get around to building a more permanent solution. He had considered the possibility of you falling, but never seriously – not even children would fall so easily.

He must look stricken somehow, because your own face begins to contort in response. 

“It was my fault,” You say hurriedly. “I wasn’t paying proper attention, and I slipped. I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

He lets out a soft, low sound, before shaking his head. His jaw is clenched tight. What a stupid mistake for him to make. His tiny soft mate, so frail and weak. He should have known that the ladder was too risky for you to be climbing up and down. Only a sprain; he is so lucky that it was only a sprain. What would he have done if it was something worse? 

Mo’at clicks her tongue, then sits back and surveys her handiwork. It’s as neat and meticulous as ever, the bandages wrapped tight around your injured wrist. 

“There,” Mo’at says simply. “Rest it. It will be just fine in a few days.”

Tsu’tey hardly hears her at all. He’s too busy staring at the bandages, pale green against your bruised skin. This should never have happened. He’s meant to protect you, to keep you safe. That’s what he had promised you. What kind of mate is he, if he can’t even provide a safe way for you to enter the home he had offered you?

He’s pulled out of his cycle of self-flagellation by Mo’at swatting ungently at his head.

“Take your mate and leave,” She says, shooting him an unimpressed look. “No sulking. Just watch after her.”

“Yes, tsahìk.” He says quietly, inclining his head towards her out of respect.

When he turns back to you, you’re already watching him with big, guilty eyes. That only makes him feel worse – why should you feel guilty, when it is him that has failed you?

“Come, ma’yawne,” He murmurs, reaching out to hold you. “I will take you home.”

You open your mouth, no doubt to be stubborn and protest that you can walk yourself, or some other such nonsense, but he doesn’t wait to give you the chance. He just tucks his arms under your back and legs and hauls you up into his arms, holding you close to his chest as he stands.

With one last murmured thanks to Mo’at, he carries you right out of the hut and back into the evening light.

Tsu’tey is willing to admit that over the next few days, he is a little more… vigilant than usual.

“Tsu’tey, seriously,” You complain. “It’s a sprained wrist, it’s nothing!”

He doesn’t justify that with a response. Your injury is not nothing. It is a representation of his failure as a mate, and it hurts his pride to look at the bandages for too long. All he can do is commit himself to ensuring that something like this never happens again.

He brings you food and water in bed, he offers you gifts of books and the silly little glowing pads he manages to bully out of the tawtute in the human science encampment, and he makes sure the kelku is more cushioned and comfortable than ever before. His aim is to make sure that you have everything you need right there in your home, so that you won’t have to leave again – at least, not until he has finished safe-guarding the sloping rope bridge he is attempting to build for you.

Even now, your legs dangle from the edge of the kelku’s entrance as you watch him work on the wide branch below. You’re secure where you are, your hands holding tight to the edge of the tree branch that your legs hang from, but Tsu’tey keeps stealing looks up at you every couple of moments to ensure that you’re still there.

Around the twentieth time he glances up at you, you roll your eyes and meet his gaze with a challenging stare. 

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” You ask, swinging your legs in the air. “It’s a nice day, and I haven’t been out in ages.”

Tsu’tey grunts, but doesn’t answer properly. His tail curls as he weaves another section of his makeshift rope bridge; it will be narrow and a little precarious, but he is certain it will be a better solution than the ladder you had fallen from.

From above, you click your tongue in dissatisfaction. “I know what you’re doing.”

He slants a glance up at you, lips pursed. Once again, he says nothing. Knowing you, you’re not finished speaking yet anyway.

Sure enough, his silence only seems to irritate you.

“I’m not staying up here forever, you know.” You say insistently, and Tsu’tey tenses when you lean forward to get a better look at him as he works on the branch below you. “I know you’re angry at me for getting hurt, but it’s only a sprained wrist and it’s not like-”

“I am not angry.” Tsu’tey interrupts, though he can’t manage to meet your eyes. His ears are pinned to the sides of his head; is that really what you think? 

You let out a clearly frustrated noise. “You’ve hardly spoken to me for days. All you do is work on this stupid bridge-”

He finally looks up at that, lip curling in annoyance as he squints up to you. The rope bridge is admittedly rudimentary, but it’s for you. It’s true that he hasn’t been as demonstrative with his affections as usual for the past couple of days, but you’ve been injured. He couldn’t even think of touching you when you’re hurt – the remnants of bruising around your wrist makes him feel that sense of failure every time he catches sight of them.

When he fails to verbally respond yet again, you scowl at him. “Are you just not going to talk to me?”

At that, he sighs. “What do you want me to say?”

You set your jaw and glare for a second, before promptly shoving yourself to your feet. Tsu’tey tenses once more as you stand, so nerve-wrackingly close to the edge of the kelku, before you turn on your heel and march back inside.

Once you’re gone, Tsu’tey allows his shoulders to drop. Damn. He probably could have handled that better – communication has never been his strong suit. He’s never really felt the compulsion to explain himself or his thinking to anyone before, and now he finds himself at a loss for how to approach his feelings with you.

You think that he’s angry with you, which is absolutely untrue. Are you angry with him? Fuck. 

Sighing, he finishes one last knot in the rope he was working on before dropping it. He needs to sort this out. 

It only takes one jump for him to catch the edge of the kelku with his hands, and then he hauls himself up with ease. Part of the reason that he had been so startled when he realised you had been injured climbing the tree was because it was something that should have been so easy, something that just came naturally to the Omaticaya. It hadn’t occurred to him that it might have been possible for you to fall so easily.

When he steps inside the kelku, he spots your little form curled up on the woven rug atop the cushy leaves he had padded the wooden floor with. You’re holding one of the glowing pad things that the tawtute are always tapping away on, although you don’t appear to be reading anything off it – it seems more like you’re simply staring fixedly at it in an effort to avoid meeting his stare.

He moves slowly towards you, tail held low in as non-threatening a manner as he can manage. You don’t look up, though he can see the way your eyes slide subtly toward him. When he kneels down by your side, you’re forced to raise your gaze towards him.

“I do not mean to upset you, Säsrätx,” He murmurs, his voice low as he bends his head towards you. He does not want you to be angry with him – the thought curdles in his stomach.

You take a slow inhale through your nose, the breath fogging lightly against the clear material of your breathing mask before dissipating. 

“I’m not made of glass, big guy,” You mumble, glancing back down at your hands. “You can’t treat me like a kid just because I got a minor injury.”

Tsu’tey makes a soft grumbling noise in the back of his throat, but doesn’t argue. You’ve never been annoyed at him like this, and he’s surprised by how much he doesn’t like it. He’s never been one to put too much stock in the opinion of others, but this is different. You are his mate, and he doesn’t want to make anything worse.

He adjusts his stance so that he’s crouched at your side, his much bigger body curling over yours as he looms over you. You’re just so small, it makes his palms itch. He hasn’t touched you properly in days, so afraid that he’ll make your injuries worse, but now he’s finding it difficult to keep his hands to himself.

You must be thinking the same thing, because your gaze drifts from his face down over his shoulders and chest, lingering around his woven necklaces and his battle waistband. Tsu’tey preens a little under your eyes, his chest puffing out a little.

“You should not have been hurt like this,” He murmurs, reaching out for your hand. “The kelku should have been safe for you. This was my fault.”

You just sigh, and shake your head. “Don’t be stupid. It was an accident. These things happen.”

Tsu’tey grunts unhappily. He’s too busy peering carefully at your wrist; your wrist and hand look so fragile in his much larger palm, and his lips press together tight as he strokes a careful thumb over the lingering discolouration on your skin. The bruises are almost gone, but he can still see the faint traces remaining.

“I have waited a long time to take a mate and have a family of my own,” He murmurs without looking up at your face. He tilts his head, a wry sort of smirk beginning to grow on his face. “I did not expect it would be with a tawtute, but I would not change things. I have lost too much over the years – I could not take it if something happened to you.”

Your expression wobbles, and then you toss your little piece of technology aside and push yourself up to your knees.

“Tsu’tey,” You whisper, eyes turning soft. “It was only a sprained wrist.”

His tail lashes, but he ducks his head down towards you so that you can cup his face in your little palms. Some of the restlessness in his chest begins to settle now that he has your hands holding his cheeks.

“I do not want you to think less of me as a mate.” He says quietly, reaching up to lay his palm flat over one of your hands on his cheek. “I should have ensured you had a safe way of entering our kelku-”

“Less of you?” You interrupt, choking out a laugh. “Are you kidding? I thought that you would think I was a total skxawng for falling like that. I had literally been promising you earlier that day that I would look after you, and then I ended up hurt like an idiot.”

Tsu’tey just makes a soft, rumbly noise in his chest in an effort to soothe you. To his relief it seems to work, and you relax into his chest. 

“You can take care of me when you are better.” He says, his lips pulling up into a little smirk. It is something he looks forward to.

You hum, tilting your head back so you can look him in the eye with a coy grin. “I’m better now, big guy.”

Tsu’tey starts to snort, to pull back with an eyeroll, but to his surprise you continue grasping at his hand. When he blinks at you, he finds you staring up at him with a determined sort of look about you.

“I mean it,” You whisper, eyes all liquid and pleading. “My arm is fine, Mo’at said so. You haven’t touched me in days.”

Tsu’tey pauses at that. He looks at you properly; behind your breathing mask, your eyelashes are longer and darker than usual, and your lips are glossier. He recognises the traces of what you call makeup, and his ears twitch backwards in surprise. He knows that you wear this when you’re trying to catch his attention, and a little jolt of realisation rockets through him as he looks at you.

“Oh,” He breathes, reaching out to capture your jaw in one hand. “I see. My little mate feels neglected, is that it?”

Your cheeks grow hot in his hand, your eyes flickering away in an attempt to avoid eye contact. Despite your plea for him to touch you, now you appear flustered. 

“Yes.” You whine, tilting your head into his hand. Despite your embarrassment, you manage to appear semi-confident when you finally raise your chin to look at him. “I want you to touch me.”

The edge of your breathing mask digs into his palm, and he starts to grin as he winds his long fingers into your hair. Oh, that soothes his wounded pride. Despite his mistake with the ladder, you still want him. 

He ducks his head and presses a kiss to your neck, humming in satisfaction when you tilt your head back immediately to allow him access to your throat. Tsu’tey lets out a soft breath, and reaches for your waist so he can pull you into his lap. You go eagerly, clambering onto his thighs with a grin. You’re just so pliable, so trusting and needy. As soon as you’re settled in his lap, you start to grind yourself down against the growing stiffness beneath his tewng.

He lets out a quiet, surprised little huff. You really do want him to touch you, and your eagerness rushes straight to his head. He really has been neglecting you if you’re reacting like this just from a simple little neck kiss.

“I will make you feel good, ma’yawntutsyìp.” He promises – he is determined to make up for the last few days of distance between you, and he wants so desperately to taste you.

But when he begins to kiss his way down your chest, your belly, towards your thighs, your fingers weave into the roots of his hair and you tug lightly to stop him.

“As nice as your mouth would be,” You breathe, your mouth curving into a grin. “I said I’d make you feel good, didn’t I?”

His ears twitch, and he tilts his head as he eyes you carefully. You look earnest, but he’s not sure if he understands. You do not want him to use his mouth on you? Why not?

When he doesn’t make any immediate moves, you appear to take initiative yourself. You reach out to take his hand in your much smaller one, and pull it down beneath the hem of the little tewng that had been specially made for you. When his fingers make contact with the wet heat of your cunt, he goes stock still.

“You…” He starts, his brow furrowing as his fingers slide along the slickness between your legs. 

He dips one finger inside, awed by how easily it slips in. It seems like you’re already all stretched out, far wetter than natural – he recognises the texture of the tawtute-made liquid you used on occasion to make the size of him easier to take. Lube, you call it. He slips another finger in, and you moan softly at the slide of it.

“You are ready.” Tsu’tey rumbles in surprise, his fingers twitching inside you.

“I’ve been ready for days,” You complain, dropping your head against his shoulder as you move your hips, attempting to get his fingers working deeper. “Waiting for you to get over your stupid worry and just fuck me.”

That just about sends him over the edge entirely. You had prepared yourself for him just to save time with stretching? The thought of you walking around the kelku for days, all sloppy and dripping down your legs as you wait for him to emerge from his brooding mood and please you sends his thoughts scattering. Fuck. How could he have been so preoccupied with his stupid rope bridge when you were sitting waiting for him to pay attention to you?

“I will fuck you,” He breathes, nuzzling at your jaw eagerly. The human term is harsh on his tongue, but he enjoys the coarseness of it.

“Don’t be gentle.” You blurt, still writhing against the bulge beneath his tewng and sending zings of pleasure shooting up his spine. “Fuck me like you mean it. I won’t break.”

Tsu’tey lets out a soft hiss. Well. What kind of a man would he be if he did not obey his little mate’s orders?

Though you have been making demands, it still seems to surprise you when he launches into movement. He grips your hips and flips you around – it’s a quick movement, and it takes you a moment to regain your bearings when you find yourself on your hands and knees on the soft leaves he’s padded the kelku’s bouncy floor with.

“Fuck, yes.” You breathe, guessing where he’s going with this immediately. You arch your back, pushing your ass back eagerly into his hands as he unties your tewng and tosses it aside.

Tsu’tey bears his teeth in a grin, lowering his face to lay a hot, biting kiss between your shoulderblades. 

“Needy girl,” He rumbles, groping at your ass as his thumbs roll around your puffy, slick pussy and pull you apart so that he can admire the sticky strands of arousal that drip from you. “You are so swollen here. My poor, neglected little mate. I will make this up to you.”

When brushes his fingers through the puffy lips of your cunt and then pushes inside, you can't quite stifle the whine that escapes you. It drives him crazy. You’re still squirming even on your hands and knees beneath him, and Tsu’tey hunches over you so he can plaster his big chest over your back. 

His erection presses thick and heavy against your ass. He grinds into you at the same time as he reaches around and rubs quick, tight circles into your clit. You practically choke, alternating between pushing back into his erection which is laid flushed and hot between your thighs, and pushing forward into his hand, which is still toying with your pussy.

“Come on then, big guy,” You say, your voice wavering slightly as he rubs at your clit. “Stop telling me how good you can fuck me and actually do it.”

That makes Tsu’tey snicker into the hot skin of your neck. Oh, how he can’t wait to fulfill the orders of his bossy little mate. 

Grinning, he reaches out and places a hand on the back of your neck before exerting gentle pressure to push you down onto the padded floor. You go willingly, until you’re face down and ass up in a position that has Tsu’tey’s mouth watering. He can smell your arousal, so sweet and dizzying as you lay exposed and waiting for him.

You crane your neck around so that you can see him as he eyes your arched back and exposed behind eagerly. You look flustered, but your eyes are still challenging as you watch him and wait for his next move.

“So impatient, ma’tawtute,” He rumbles, amused. 

He smooths a hand over your waist and down over your hip and ass. A quick, open-palmed smack is delivered to the soft, squishy flesh of your ass, and you rock forward with a choked gasp. He was careful to control the pressure he used, but even still the hint of force makes your soft cunt flutter around nothing. 

“Come on, big guy,” You gasp, laying your cheek flat against the padded floor as you push your ass back towards him eagerly. “Come on, come on-”

With you all spread out and wet and begging beneath him, his self-control crumbles. He tears off his tewng and grabs at his cock, stroking it with a growled rumble before rubbing the sensitive tip against the slick folds of your cunt. 

You’re gasping already, before he even begins to press inside, and he can’t help but feel impossibly endeared by your stubborn nature. Look at you – so determined and eager to take him.

When he does begin to push inside, you drop your head down to the padded floor and moan, clearly just short of overwhelmed. You’re so tight, Tsu’tey swears he nearly blacks out. He pushes in slowly, his front plastered to your little back as one of his arms reaches under your stomach to support you. The two of you are breathing heavily; you from the struggle of accepting his size inside you, and him from the vice-like grip of your cunt.

“Breathe and relax, my small mate,” He grunts, squeezing his eyes tight as he nuzzles into your shoulder. “You are taking me so well.”

You do as he says unthinkingly, gasping a breath and forcing yourself to relax as he presses inside of you inch by excruciating inch. You can't seem to decide if you want him to hurry up and get it over with or go slow and gentle, and you keep alternating between twitching back on his cock and flinching away from it. Tsu’tey, however, is careful to keep a very medium pace; he pushes evenly and steadily until he's seated inside of you, hunched over your back, and then pauses to let you adjust. 

As you tremble, face pressed into the floor as your pussy flutters frantically around his cock, Tsu’tey presses soft, insistent kisses all around your back and shoulders. It feels as though you’re trying to squeeze his cock right off, and he grunts a moan into the soft flesh of your bare back as you finally begin to ease up around him.

Then, finally, he begins to move.

"Fuck!" You gasp, squirming a little as he starts up at a steady pace.

When his hands come down to grip your hips and keep you in place, you grab at the leaf-padded floor, fingers scrabbling for purchase as the thrusting of his hips rocks your whole body forward. 

He's barely started fucking you at all, but Tsu’tey’s thoughts are already scattered and his body feels like it's close to overheating already. There’s something about seeing you so hungry for him that sends him wild – he’s never taken you from behind before, but the view of your ass stuck up in the air as your cunt sucks him so greedily makes his head spin.

"You feel so good," Tsu’tey murmurs into the side of your throat before biting at it, "So tight around me. Oh, fuck, that's it."

Each thrust pushes you further up the floor, until you’re forced to stop grabbing at the leaf-padding and instead to reach behind you and grab at one of his hands. He takes your hand eagerly, wrapping your odd little five-fingered hand in his own four-fingered one and pinning it to the floor as his other hand uses your hip to pull you back into him. You moan quite happily as you bury your face into the leaf-padding as he fucks you into the floor.

It doesn’t take long before you’re pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts as best you can, and he bares his teeth at the sight beneath him. You’re just adorable – you glance over your shoulder and smile dazedly as you tighten up around him. He makes a soft sound of pleasure and wraps his arm firmly around your stomach to keep you close to him.

“Come on, ma’yawne,” He rumbles, nipping lightly at the juncture of your bare shoulder as you shudder beneath him. “Talk to me.”

You manage an embarrassingly breathless little moan in response, and Tsu’tey snorts a wild sort of laugh. It feels a little as though he's coming apart at the seams. Tsu’tey is big, a fact which is apparently emphasised even further in this position, and it's overwhelming but it's so good — you feel so delightfully perfect, all wrapped around him like a vice as he fills you up.

He must be hitting a spot inside you that makes your legs go weak, because your jaw is slack and you keep making senseless little gasping sounds as you go limp as he fucks into you. It’s so sweet that he thinks momentarily about relenting, but you had asked for this. You did not want him to be gentle, not tonight.

"I didn't hear you." He says, a warning in his voice. His fingers weave into the roots of your hair and fist at the base of your skull, before he pulls your head back so that your face is no longer buried in the floor. “I want to hear you talk to me, my girl.”

"Oh, fucking goddamn shit-" You manage to choke out. His hand pulling your hair has somehow caused you to go semi-boneless as he fucks into you.

He picks up his pace, his hips rolling into yours so that your breath is catching in your chest and your eyes are rolling wildly. When his hand slips under you to start playing with your clit, you make a soft, broken-sounding moan and throw your head back eagerly.

Tsu’tey is so close to coming that his head is actually swimming, his thoughts slow as molasses as every nerve and synapse tunes into you beneath him so that the only thing he can actually focus on is the feel of you gasping and writhing below. He has always taken mating with you seriously, but right now it feels as though his only purpose is touching and stroking and fucking you so good that you forget everything other than him.

“Oh god,” You wheeze, your little hand squeezing tight around his fingers as his other hand uses his grip on your hips to pull you back into his thrusts. “Oh god, oh god, oh god-”

He recognises that frantic edge to your voice, and he bares his teeth in pleasure as he realises just how close you are to coming. His balls slap against your clit with every thrust, and he can feel the way they begin to tighten and draw up as his thrusts get faster. He’s close himself, his teeth practically buzzing with his oncoming orgasm, but he clenches his jaw as he attempts to hold it off. He wants so desperately to come inside you, but only after he’s experienced you creaming and squealing around his cock.

He adjusts his angle just slightly, but it's enough to have you dropping bonelessly back to the floor as you gasp. 

"Fuck, there, don't stop!"

He snickers, though it trails off into a winded sort of snarl. His bossy, demanding little demon of a mate. Your orders only make his cock harder, and he lets out a whole body rumble as he feels his cock start to pulse inside your soft, wet, tight insides. He needs you to come now, before he completely loses his mind.

“Come, ma’yawntutsyìp, my precious one,” He grunts, leaving nipping kisses along the length of your spine. “I want to feel your release around me.”

The combination of his cock rubbing and grinding against the soft spongey part inside of you and the messy stimulation of your clit has your legs trembling and pussy quivering wildly. It feels like you’re being strung tighter and tighter under him as your orgasm draws closer and your breath begins coming in rapid pants. 

You just manage to get out the words "Oh, yes-!" before the pleasure growing in your belly seems to crest and your back bows as you start to cum. All of the pressure that's been building up in your body is set free with the sweetest release, made all the sweeter by the fact that Tsu’tey keeps rocking into you the whole way through, the heavy head of his cock grinding hard against your G-spot the whole time.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth drops open as your orgasm rocks through you, and Tsu’tey watches with wide eyes and avid interest as your entire little body shudders and shakes beneath him.

“Yes,” He breathes, his whole face contorting in toe-curling pleasure as your cunt clenches and ripples around him. “Yes, my love, so good.”

Your orgasm seems to last forever, leaving your chest heaving and back glittering with sweat, but eventually you reach back and slap at his thigh.

“Turn me around,” You wheeze, sounding winded. “Keep going, I want you to come in me-”

Fuck, how he loves it when you make demands. He doesn’t even wait for you to finish speaking before he pulls out, gripping your hips and flipping you around so that you’re on your back. He pushes back in immediately, snarling out a desperate groan as his cock splits you open all over again, you wrapping him up all snug and tight inside.

One of his hands snakes under your back and curls around your waist to pull you up against him as he pounds into you. With the other arm, he's balanced himself on his forearm beside your head for leverage as he drives into you hard and fast. He is still conscious of your limits, of your soft and fragile little human body, but his head is reeling from the sheer sensation and from the squealing little moans that are escaping your mouth. He’s still careful not to hurt you, but he’s also rolling his hips into your more frantically than he’s ever done before.

When you hike your little legs up over Tsu’tey’s narrow hips and squeeze tight around him, he lets out a rather wrecked, desperate sounding whimper. He drops his head to your chest, shoving the woven chest covering out of the way so that he can suck one of your tits into his mouth, sloppily rolling your nipple around on his tongue and clutching at your ass with one hand when you arch into him.

“Oh, fuck,” You gasp, arching your back so that your breasts are pushed further into his face. Your voice is hoarse — you sound absolutely wrecked. “Oh god, yes, please-”

He's hovering right on the precipice of orgasm — it's obvious by his desperate open-mouthed panting, the way he hunches over as his thrusting starts to turn clumsy, and the way he's messily sucking at your tits.

What really pushes him over the edge, to his honest surprise, is when you moan out, “Fuck, I.. Tsu’tey, I really love you-”

Tsu’tey lets out a choked, desperate groan before dropping his forehead to your breastbone as he comes inside of you. It’s like a wave of white rushes through his mind, wiping everything clean inside his head as he strains desperately against you. The motion of his hips stutters and falters as his brow pinches, and he lets out a long, low moan as he grasps at you, his eyes squeezing shut tight as he feels his cum flood your cunt and overflow, dribbling down your ass.

"Oh." He groans, shivering as his elbows give out and he drops down on top of you so that you’re plastered together from head to toe. He tucks his face into your neck and kisses under your ear, enjoying the heat from your overworked, sweaty bodies while also being hyper-conscious of crushing you.

You’re both covered in a sheen of sweat, which makes your bodies slide slickly together whenever either of you move. Tsu’tey’s hand drifts down over your ass, and he squeezes lazily at the soft, squishy flesh there.

“Are you well, my mate?” He rumbles, still a little dazed as he lifts his head to squint down at you. “Did I- are you hurt?”

You’re staring at the ceiling, mouth softly ajar as you take deep, heaving breaths. His question makes you laugh, though it’s a quiet, breathless little sound.

“No,” You whisper, your mouth curving in a dopy sort of smile. “Only sore in the best way. Fuck, that was good.”

The positive affirmation is exactly what he needed to hear, and he feels his tail begin to sway in slow satisfaction. You had been right, after all – you could take it, and you were not necessarily as delicate as he had feared after your injury. The lazy, contented smile on your face only reassures him further that you are happy and unscathed.

He pulls out carefully, his ears twitching as he leaves your perfect, wet warmth. You hiss at the sensation too, and he rumbles a quiet apology before running the pads of his fingers over your swollen, puffy pussy; his come is dripping slowly out of you, and he rubs absently at the wet white trails to massage it into your skin.

“Bring me to the bed,” You say, though it lacks the demanding edge of the previous requests you had made. You sound sleepy, as though he had entirely worn you out.

His mouth twitches, and he reaches down to scoop you into his arms. You go easily, your head rolling around on your neck as you nuzzle into his chest. To his surprise, his own knees feel a little jelly-like when he moves to stand and put weight on them. Damn, he doesn’t think an orgasm has ever left him reeling like this afterwards.

When he lays you out on the tawtute-style bed he had made for you out of plant fibres and leaves, he crawls up next to you and stretches out, his tail undulating in lazy satisfaction. You roll over and shove your face up against his still glistening chest, burrowing close to him.

“Told you I could take it.” You say. You sound exhausted, but so damn pleased with yourself.

Tsu’tey just laughs, a tired sort of chuckle as he nuzzles his nose into your sweet-smelling hair.

“You take it so well, ma’yawntutsyìp,” He assures you fondly, pressing a little kiss to the top of your small, blunt little ear. 

When he takes your hand and pulls it up to his face, he gives a small smile and presses his mouth to the near-invisible remnants of bruising around your wrist. He bares his sharp teeth against your fragile skin as he murmurs, “And I love you too.”

[honoura]

Shaaloani: The Land of Enchantment Part Two

Hello again! First of all thank you so much for your responses to these posts -- I've really enjoyed reading your reblogs. I'm glad folks are enjoying this!

As I mentioned in the first post -- here is the second half! It's covers the plants and animals I thought worth special distinction. By that I mean animals that communicate how much research was done regarding this zone. So no rroneek, no uxtena. It's pretty clear they are both meant to be buffalo and rattlesnakes.

And if you're somebody who hadn't caught that, um... surprise! That's what they're based on.

If you're somehow getting this post without reading or seeing Part One first, here is a link to Part One. I'd recommend giving it a read first.

With that taken care of, let's pick up where we left off before!

Shaaloani Flora

Aside from the cacti, there are a lot of plants I recognize as native to the regions discussed in Part One! First is this scrubby, short and wide tree. It took a few screenshots and a lot of scrutiny. I was torn for a bit thinking it was a creosote bush, but upon zooming in close I'm of the mind it's a redberry juniper tree instead!

The leaves are long and thing, and the shape gives to mind of juniper needles more. Juniper 'leaves' kind of scale over each other and between texture resolution and my horrible eye sight I can't tell if this does the same. Still! There's a photo below my two screenshots for further emphasis:

These are also the trees turned red near the ceruleum fields -- junipers tend to do that when they are dying. They are also incredibly hardy so typically when you've managed to kill one it's likely not good.

I will say when I was out here I noticed the botanist gathering log has mesquite beans on it -- and you harvest them from these trees! Which is too silly for me; so here's a link to the the wiki about honey mesquite, and a photo of the beans on a tree.

It's probably a reach to try and ID this grass in the Yawtanane Grasslands, but given that it caught my eye I felt inclined to make a pitch. For context child me thought a fun and engaging after school club project was to learn how to identify grass and other plants native to Texas. So when I looked at it I wanted to take a guess based on other regional clues:

To me I think it could be cane bluestem, a grass that's drought tolerant and popular for grazing animals. And its seeds are dispersed from these little fluffy heads like this.

I will say as a caveat that a lot of grass in this area can be dispersed by wind. So it might not be cane bluestem -- hell it's a stretch to even try this. But I like to think they also considered the grass.

The bush above I also hmmed and hrmmed about for a bit before positing if it was meant to be black persimmon. It's commonly called Texas persimmon or Mexican persimmon -- and it's found in Coahuila, Tamaulipas and Neuvo León. They generally just look like big shrubs instead of trees.

I mentioned this in part one, but I'll go ahead and reiterate here a few things:

One is I think Lake Taori's about the only place that reads as specifically Texas

Two is it's not a bayou. That's an East Texas ecosystem and way too wet for Shaaloani

Three is there are cypress trees west of San Antonio growing along the Frio river, and doing quite well! Garner State Park has quite a few of them

I stand by this because these trees are show to be reproducing by making 'knees' -- offshoots from their root system. Think of it like Pando.

I also feel cypress is correct; the trunks are wider at the base than higher up, and the leaves are the right shape. I also appreciate there's Spanish moss hanging from them, which is also pretty common.

The last plant I want to cover is this flowering bush -- I'm going to admit this one was a struggle because I don't know of a lot of bushes with large white flowers like this. I've seen flowers of this shape, but most tend to be ground cover plants that grow very low to the soil.

What I think it might be, which would feel appropriate, is a take on the datura. They can get a bit higher off the ground than most wildflowers. And they were used by several native tribes for cultural practices.

The flowers are bigger in real life than depicted here -- so this is a reach! If someone has a better suggestion I'm open to it.

Shaaloani Fauna

When Fate farming out here, I've seen several players comment like 'huh, there sure are a lot of dinosaurs on this map'. And you're right! Because a lot of this region is home to some incredibly rich fossil formations.

Big Bend National Park contains part of the Javelina Formation -- home to large creatures such as the Quetzalcoatlus, a pterosaur that boasted a 39 foot wingspan. You can read about fossils found in Big Bend here. The Javelina Formation has its own wiki article that details some of the specimens found within it, including the Bravoceratops and the Torosaurus. The Ojo Alamo Formation in New Mexico is home to the Ojoceratops. Just south of these is the Aguja Formation in the Mexican states of Coahuila and Chihuahua. These formations are home to fossils of all three types of scalekin above -- as well as alligators, who are also on this map!

Other Formations in the Southwest home to great fossil finds are:

Kayenta Formation (Colorado & Utah)

Tepetate Formation (Mexico)

Black Peaks Formation (Texas)

There's even a fun sightseeing lore blurb which acknowledges this!

I think this is a fun addition to the zone that strengthens the real world inspiration sources and have fun with world building -- a lot of the formations near the Permian Basin were along the shore or under the waves of the Permian Sea!

And that's all I have! Thank you all for indulging me, and by all means take any and all of this to do with what you will in roleplay. Have fun with it!

[welldonebeca]

Glitter and Goo (II)

Summary: When you have to go on a mission to a different planet together, Bucky is hit by a mating ritual flower, and some feelings you two have been hiding come up. AKA: It’s a sex pollen fic with a side of breeding kink. WC: 1.8k words Warnings: Romantic tension. Fluff. Dirty talking. Sex promises.

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Masterlist

You fixed yourself dinner, lemonade forgotten, barely processing the taste of the food as you watched the way in front of you.

Space was beautiful. It was so strange to see those stars so clearly.

Yet, it was so scary sometimes.

You got something ready for Bucky too, saving it for when he'd wake up, putting some music on before moving off to work on the research of the element already.

It was maybe two or three hours later that the sound of a phone call got your attention.

"FRIDAY, pick up," you asked.

The sound stopped for a moment, and you took your gloves off.

"Doctor Sparkles," Tony greeted. "Got time to talk?"

You scoffed at the silly nickname.

"What's up?"

"That sparkly thing you sent over," he told you. "Thor said it's pollen."

You rolled your eyes.

"No shit, Sherlock," you shifted to the other side, where you'd been working on the pollen. "I gave it a look under the microscope, but I'm not exactly good at alien biology."

It just looked sparkly. Sparkly pollen, that was it.

"Anything on the goo?" you asked him. "It dried really fast, I didn't have time to take a second sample to look into it myself."

Maybe you could cut some of the fabric of Bucky's clothes. Even if it had dried, it could have left something there.

"We got someone smart looking into the one too," he told you. "Are they from the same plant?"

"Yep," you crossed your arms. "A flower exploded on Bucky. He got really grumpy about it."

There was silence on the other side.

"It exploded?" Tony asked. "Like... what?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Like a flower explosion, Tony," you told him. "What else can it mean?"

More silence.

"I gotta check something," he decided. "Are you going anywhere?"

"Yeah, I was thinking about visiting Pluto," you sassed back. "I heard it is really pretty this time of the year."

A sound caught your attention for a moment, and you looked in the direction of the dorm.

Had Bucky woken up.

"It's not worth it," Tony told you. "I'll be back in a minute."

He hung up, leaving you to scoff. It wasn't like you had anything else to do, anyway.

"Ma'am?" FRIDAY called. "Agent Barnes is behaving strangely."

That made you stiffen up.

What?

"Define strangely?"

The damn pollen.

You pulled up a tranquillizer from the side of your table.

If it had made him violent, it was best not to even get close to him.

"He has broken his bed, ma'am," the system told you. "And... I believe he's trying to copulate with your pillow."

He was...

"What?" you shouted back. "What do you mean, he's trying-"

But another call came through again.

"It's Tony, ma'am," it told you.

You grunted, covering your face with a hand.

"Pick it up," you cocked the tranquilliser. "Tony, tell me you have good news, because I think I have a problem."

"I do," he told you. "And it isn't venomous."

You sighed. Good, at least that.

"The flower that Bucky might have encountered is part of the mating rituals of-"

"Quick answer," you interrupted him, worry already filling you. "I don't have time for the sociology lesson."

He snorted a bit.

"It's a sex flower," he told you. "It makes you horny for your mate and facilitate reproduction of a highly infertile-"

You blinked, shocked.

"Wait, it's a sex pollen?" you asked. "Tony, this isn't funny!"

Where had he gotten that explanation from? Someone's fanfiction story?!

But he laughed on the other side.

"Except that it is!" he corrected you. "It enhances romantic and sexual attraction towards one's mate-"

"Mate?"

Was he talking about animals?

"It is actually highly sought after by some Asgardians struggling with their fertility," Thor spoke on the other side. "It quickens up the production of eggs and sperm to ensure reproduction."

You had to pinch yourself to react, still shocked.

What the fuck?

"And how does that affect humans?" you asked.

You were met by a bit of a hum.

"We don't have many answers on that," Tony answered at last. "But probably the same as Asgardians?"

"If so, there's nothing to worry about," Thor assured you, not sounding worried at all. "It only hits those who are actively around their partners."

You glanced back at the dorm. Well, that didn't sound very right.

"Partners?" you asked. "Like boyfriends and girlfriends? Wives, husbands, spouses...?"

He confirmed with a hum.

"Yeah. People who we have strong romantic and sexual feelings for, a bit more than just passion," he told you. "Bucky will be just fine."

"Ma'am," FRIDAY called. "Agent Barnes has dented the wall with a punch. I believe the door can only resist another five of those before breaking, unless you activate quarantine mode."

That didn't seem to go over Tony.

"Wait, what?" he asked. "Why is he punching the ship?"

You stood up quickly.

"I gotta go check on him," you decided. "Thor, is there a chance he... might..."

Hurt you.

His voice was tainted with worry when he answered.

"Violence is unlikely," he told you. "Unless you try to keep someone away from their mate."

You exhaled slowly, trying to calm your racing heart.

Holy shit.

"Okay," you spoke slowly. "I'll call you back if I need anything else."

"Wait, what?" Tony gasped back. "Where are you going?"

But you pressed the screen near your station, hanging up.

You could hear grunts when you walked near the dorm and jumped in shock when you heard Bucky's fist against the door again.

"James!" you shouted. "What are you doing?"

He stopped.

"Y/N?" Bucky called suddenly, half whimpering. "Where are you?"

You neared the closed door.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, instead. "Are you alright?"

He knocked on the door, a little weaker.

"Please," Bucky begged. "I need you."

You swallowed down, eyeing the door, worried.

Was he going mad with lust?

"Please," he cried.

Heat pooled in your belly, a soft smell making your face warm.

Was that him?

He smelt so good.

"Please?" Bucky insisted.

You stopped your tranquilliser slowly, walking near the door, but when you tried to open it, it was locked.

"FRIDAY," you called. "Open the door."

There was a moment of hesitance.

"Are you sure, doctor?" the system asked. "It's still possible to put Agent Barnes in quarantine. It's only 36 hours until we arrive back home."

You shook your head. No, you wouldn't leave him alone.

"Open the door," you commanded once more. "Don't ask me again."

The sound of the locks moving was loud, and you opened the door slowly when you found it unlocked.

James didn't move when you stepped inside, just far enough from the door that you walked in easily.

His face was so flushed, and he was drenched in sweat.

You reached for him slowly, touching him gently on his cheeks, and he exhaled, looking at you with pleading eyes.

"Where were you?" Bucky panted, sounding so sweet and yet so needy, his hands moving to cover yours. "Where had you gone?"

It broke your heard to hear him like that, so lost. You had left alone!

He watched you with his bright blue eyes so soft, and it was as if he hadn't been slamming the door moments ago.

"I'm sorry," you caressed his skin. "I was making dinner. Aren't you hungry?"

Bucky shook his head, hand moving down slowly, touching your body gently. First your waist, wrapping his arm around you so slowly that you knew you could step away and stop him any time you wanted.

He put his head in your neck, sniffing you, nuzzling into you as if you were the most precious thing he didn't want to let go.

You shivered when you felt him sniffing you, pressing close to you, his body hot.

His big hand travelled down a bit, near your hip.

"Hungry," he mumbled into your neck, licking your skin.

Bucky's fingers searched around your jumpsuit on your back, tugging on your jacket and your utility belt.

"Smell good," he whimpered. "Can smell you..."

You sighed out.

"Smell me?" you squirmed.

You could smell him good. It was so good.

"Smell you wet," Bucky hissed, unhooking your belt and throwing it away. “Smell your skin… wanna bury my head in your tits, find your sweet smell in them.”

You gasped, surprised.

"Bucky! Something could break!"

He tugged on your vest, lips travelling up and down your neck, and if he was that insistent there, you couldn't help imagining what he'd do if he put himself between your legs.

"Want to break you," he took his hands to your belly and pulling on the clasps of your best, nearly breaking them. "Make you mine. No one else will have you."

What?

He wasn't speaking any tense.

Bucky threw it away, grabbing the front zip of your suit and tearing it.

“Bucky!”

Did he know how hard it was to get a jumpsuit that fit your tits? They were too fucking big for most of them, you had to get a bigger size and adjust the rest of your body!

Still, you couldn’t complain as his big hand pushed into your clothes, grabbing your chest, squeezing your breast over your bra.

"No one else can have you," Bucky babbled. "You're mine."

Bucky took your clothes off so quickly you barely saw it, and he picked you up, laying you on the bed.

For a moment, you thought he would take you just like that, but he took off his clothes before moving and kneeling in front of the bed, looking at your face with such a soft pleading look on his face.

"Please?" he whispered. "Can I have you? Please?"

You swallowed down, leaning onto your elbows.

His mattress was practically on the floor, the legs broken, and it would be so easy for him to just crawl to you.

"Want to give you my babies," Bucky pleaded with you. "Want to be yours, please."

You swallowed down, breathing in deep. Oh, how good he smelt. You had to fight yourself not to bury your face into his neck and sniff him.

The flower... it had to do with mating rituals, wasn't it?

"What are you going to do?" you asked him.

Bucky swallowed down.

"I want to make you feel good," he promised. "I'll treasure you, I'll never let you go."

You pressed your thighs together, a bit warm between them.

His fingers clenched by his sides.

"I'll fill you up," Bucky promised. "You're so empty, aren't you? I'll give you everything!"

You swallowed down again, feeling your pussy clenching at the idea.

His babies. He was going to give you his babies, right?

Your eyes travelled down his body to his cock, and it was so hard. There was so much precum.

Oh, he was going to fill you up, right?! Give you his cum!

Bucky was going to breed you.

You nodded, sitting up.

"Please," you tried to grab his hand. "Please, Bucky."

…

“Glitter and Goo” was first posted on my Patreon on April 2023. To read it now, subscribe to my page, it’s just $2 a month and I post 6x a week.

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth​​ @amythyststorm33​​ @shaelyn102 @yknott81​​ ​​@maximofftrash​​ @kgbrenner​​ @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80​ @mogaruke ​ @shadowhunter7​​ @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever​​ @deemoriarty​​ @05spn18​​ @malindacath @kdcollinsauthor​​ @random-fandom-fangirl2112​​ @widowsfics @frozenhuntress67​​ @averyrogers83​​ @notyourtypicalrose @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega Marvel forever tags: @its-daydreamer23​​ @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @tayrae515imagines @indecisiondecisions? @afanofmanystuffs​​? @patzammit​​? @thevanishedillusion? @widowsfics​​? @alexisshoto ​​ @dreams-of-feysand ​@dragonqueen0606 @izbelross @isabelle-faith

Glitter and Goo: @art2emily

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

The TTPD Deep Dive (Part ?)

It’s no secret that I have a lot of Thoughts about The Tortured Poets Department and it has lived rent-free in my head since it came out earlier this year. I’m absolutely blown away by how underneath the chaos, it’s actually an exceptionally cohesive story and is probably the closest to a concept album Taylor has ever done.

There are so many themes that have stood out to me over the last five months, and there’s one in particular that I think not only drives the entire album, but ties into previous albums to help deepen understanding of it.

This is it, my fangirl magnum opus, my months of posts consolidated into one place. This is also my disclaimer that this is just my interpretation of the album, and my summary of the story it tells, and I don’t pretend to have any special insight or authority. I’m not saying I’m correct at all, do not take any of this as fact, it’s just what it sounds like to me, and these are my silly not-so-little thoughts about it.

(Under a cut because it’s way too long and involves discussion many may not care for or be sick of.)

Come one, come all, it's happening again (I'm thinking too hard about Taylor music)

The overarching theme in TTPD to me is: Grief. If you’re looking at TTPD as a story being told (instead of just as someone’s real life), the inciting incident of TTPD is loss, and the grief from that loss is what drives the narrator’s actions and the fallout, as well as unpacks those complicated feelings and how they apply to the her life in general. By the end of the standard album, it’s also about recovering from that pain, moving on from it and learning from it.

The loss specifically is the loss of the dream of having a family (with one’s partner). One thing that is abundantly clear both on the top line and under the surface in TTPD is how Taylor (as a person and as narrator) longed not only to for marriage but specifically parenthood, and the fear and then realization of losing that chance absolutely wrecked her— which is why the next lover’s (the conman's) wooing worked so well, because it preyed on that yearning. Yet that loss also dovetails into the grief of many things: of youth, of idealism, of relationships, of ideas, even of self, which causes almost a deconstruction of a belief system to piece one’s life back together by the end.

THE CONTEXT

TTPD weaves in the topics of marriage and motherhood both explicitly and in the subtext, in various forms and scenarios. The cheating husband in “Fortnight.” The wedding ring line in “TTPD” the song. “He saw forever so he smashed it up” in “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys.” All of “So Long, London.” Running away with her wild boy in “But Daddy I Love Him,” fantasizing about weddings and joking about babies. The imaginary rings in “Fresh Out The Slammer.” The cheating husband (again) and the friends who smell like weed or “little babies” in “Florida!!!” “You and I go from one kiss to getting married,” “Talking rings and talking cradles,” and “our field of dreams engulfed in fire” in “loml.” (And arguably: “I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all.”) “He said he’d love me all his life, but that life was too short,” in “I Can Do It With A Broken Heart.” They may not sound like much on their own, but they paint a picture about how the topics pervaded her thoughts and her writing, and in many cases express her desires, and her pain.

It’s something that goes back several albums when you pick up on context clues. You get the first hints on Reputation with “New Year’s Day,” and “you and me forevermore.” Then Lover is very forward with it: “Lover” is basically wedding vows, “Paper Rings” is very engagement-coded, “I Think He Knows” is cheeky but low-key “you better put a ring on it,” “It’s Nice To Have A Friend” has wedding/marriage imagery in the last verse. As a self-professed diaristic writer, it’s the type of stuff one presumably doesn’t put out there unless those conversations have already happened, and she was very excited about it at the time it was released.

Then the pandemic happens and folklore comes out, and while there is still happy love there (“invisible string”), there are also the first indications that something has happened to put a halt to whatever future she once dreamed of (“hoax,” “the lakes”) and that she’s trying to reassure herself and him that it can still happen even if she’s scared it might not (“peace”). Notably, as far as I can remember it’s the first time Taylor explicitly brings up the idea of family (with her partner) with “you know that I’d give you my wild, give you a child,” which stood out at the time because it’s so incredibly vulnerable, but it’s even more poignant when you really take in that the whole song is like a confession of her deepest worries, and this is her vowing to give him these things that she holds most sacred if he’ll let her. These are what she cherishes most dearly and wants to return in kind: her youth and commitment (my wild), the family she craves (a child), unconditional support (swing for the fences/sit in the trenches) and understanding/compassion (silence that only comes when two people know each other).

Evermore follows an even darker path, and suddenly the album explores relationships that end and grappling with loss. There are toxic relationships (“tolerate it”), dangerous marriages (“no body, no crime,” “ivy”), failing/broken relationships (“Coney Island,” “champagne problems,” “happiness,” “‘tis the damn season”), as well as grief (“Marjorie,” “evermore”). Even some of the happy songs have uncertainty in them: in “willow” she’s begging for him to take her lead, like she’s still trying to decipher him and ask him to commit; in “cowboy like me,” still a beautiful love song, she’s thinking, “this wasn’t supposed to work and we were supposed to bail on each other but we fell in love instead”; “evermore” is about the depths of severe depression (and more) with the love story being the one saving grace in her darkest hour. And it’s also notable that after all the “fiction” writing, shortly after this album she writes “Renegade” where she’s telling the subject: I’m ready to start the next phase of our life now, why aren’t you? Is it me you don’t want after all? It’s like there’s something telling her that this stall might not just be a stall.

Midnights is a jumble (in a good, but in hindsight, also sad way) with the “sleepless nights” concept, but it seems pretty clear now that the themes and events and relationships she was revisiting tied into a lot of what she was feeling in her present life. I wrote the cliff notes version awhile back, but she’s questioning so much of her life that’s reflected in past events and relationships. Am I actually always the problem? How did we lose sight of each other and what we had? We only seem to work when we block out everyone and everything else. Can we ever go back to when things were good? Why are you neglecting me? I once thought I was going to lose everything but you saved me in the nick of time, can that happen again? I chased my career, but did I give up my chance at having a family in the process? Nobody knows what I really suffer from behind closed doors and I’m all alone.

And so on, which in retrospect now that we have TTPD, is very much what she was grappling with in private while writing and releasing the album. The inspiration behind the songs may have been different events and muses, but regardless of their origins they all end up feeling too familiar, like she's seen this film before (ahem). We’re seeing her view of commitment change too, or rather how she writes about it: she’s not making the outright declarations of it like on Lover, or even the implied ones on folklore, nor is she talking of the dark side of it like evermore. For the most part it’s a return to the early days of some relationships, before things got hard, or the end of them when there was nothing left, and also pushing away the discussion of it altogether by the outside world. “Sweet Nothing” is a sweet slice of life, but even at that, it’s the peace of the home in conflict with the pressure of the outside world. Now that we have “You’re Losing Me,” which was written at the same time as the rest of the album, we can probably deduce that she was going back to the start because something happened that made her doubt the future.

THE SETUP

So much of Midnights directly ties into TTPD, and I said in the post I linked that it’s like Midnights is asking the questions that TTPD answers. But there’s one song in particular on Midnights that sticks out to me as being key in the broadest sense to understanding the state of mind that led to the events of TTPD, and that’s “Bigger Than The Whole Sky,” because the way it expresses grief is reflected in the theme of mourning a life built and the dreams along with it that are never realized in TTPD. There are several instances in TTPD that are basically variations of: “every single thing to come has turned into ashes,” and that’s what makes her snap, and leaves her vulnerable to someone who promises her those things when she’s bereaved at losing them in the first place. (In other words: “the deflation of our dreaming leaving me bereft and reeling.”) The song tells a story about how that loss of hope colours one’s entire mindset, and in some ways is a bridge to TTPD to understand what such a low point feels like.

I think that that grief, and most importantly losing hope for an imagined future in its wake, is fundamental to understanding TTPD on so many levels: both the decline with one partner that kept her hanging on then led her such a dark path, and why she fell for the conman's apparent bullshitting because it offered an express pass to what she was losing with her partner. And I also feel like it plays a part into the ruminating she’s doing all over Midnights, trying to make sense of where she finds herself when she’s writing the album, which directly leads to “You’re Losing Me.” Loss permeates so many of the stories on Midnights: of lovers, of innocence, of youth, of faith, of control, of life’s work, etc. “BTTWS” is just one of the ways in which it is expressed so fully, capturing that deep depression and subsequent extinction of faith in something that once felt assured and very much wanted. (Which is also mentioned in her writing process in the “Depression” playlist on Apple Music.)

If you understand why that feeling of loss in general across so many parts of life is so important to Midnights, then it illuminates so much about the “narrative” in TTPD too. If on Midnights she’s wrestling with the seeds of grief and loss (on multiple fronts), TTPD is her reckoning with it in its full form. “So Long, London” is the song that is the most explicit about it: How much sad did you think I had in me? How much tragedy? Just how low did you think I’d go before I’d have to go be free? You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues? I died on the altar waiting for the proof. It’s the sequel to “You’re Losing Me.” It’s, the air is thick with loss and indecision, I know my pain is such an imposition, I’m getting tired even for a phoenix, all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier, I’ve got nothing left to believe unless you’re choosing me, my heart won’t start anymore, but from the other side of the break.

This is highly speculative, but if you follow the thread about the topic and the relationship as told from Rep through TTPD, in broad strokes it goes: young love with a serious connection (Rep) -> growing up and making life plans (Lover) -> something happens that delays those plans or makes them grind to a halt (folklore) -> serious doubts arise and cause a loss of faith in their future (evermore) -> struggling with the loss of that future and trying to make sense of the problems in a last ditch attempt to save the relationship (Midnights) -> fallout from that grief after the blowup of the relationship (TTPD). Understanding that progression of events (through the music) explains not only the storytelling side of TTPD (e.g. the jump from the partner to the conman) but also how the experiences/muses blend in the music, and how the music that on the surface is about the short-term relationship is really driven by the destruction of the long-term one.

Following the music, it’s IMO implied that Taylor (the narrator) was holding out for marriage and family with her partner, for years, and it seems like it was at one point a shared dream until something happened to pump the brakes, and seemingly on her partner’s end. And extrapolating further, given how the sorrow expressed in former albums bleeds into TTPD, it sounds like a plan that had been concrete in some form before it had fallen apart, and losing something that once felt so tangible is what drives her in her grief to find any kind of respite from the pain. Which is why the situation with the conman becomes so appealing as the one with the partner splinters further and further.

(If everything you’ve once touched is sick with sadness and you don’t want to be sad anymore, what are you left to do?)

THE STORY

So (one part of) the story kind of sounds like this from the standard album: the relationship with her partner as well as his mental health slowly deteriorate and he withdraws emotionally (“London,” “Fresh Out The Slammer”) and physically (again, “London,” and “Guilty As Sin?”) and takes his resentment out on her (“London” and arguably “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” even though I don't want to get into muse speculation here). As she sinks deeper into her own depression as a result, the weight of the failing relationship starts feeling like a cage— or a noose (“London,” “Guilty”), but coming to terms with the loss of their life together and the future they’d dreamed of was killing her (again, “London,” but also “I Can Do It With A Broken Heart”).

Enter the conman who she reconnects with at the very point where this is coming to a head (knowing that IRL she reconnected with him around the time Midnights was being worked on) , and if you read between the lines, she confides some deeply personal things to him (“Down Bad” and “hostile takes overs”/“encounters closer and closer,” “Smallest Man” and the entire sleeper cell spy imagery which is one of my favourite things and I could write a whole essay about the meaning of it, “loml” and “A con man sells a fool a get-love-quick scheme”). Then after she’s confided these secrets to him, he insinuates himself back into her life (“Guilty,” “Down Bad,” “Smallest Man”) and sells her a dream that HE can give her all these things she hopes for (again, “Down Bad,” “Smallest Man,” “loml,” song “TTPD,” “Broken Heart”).

But the thing is, he only knows these are the things she wants because she’s revealed it to him, and presumably, told him that was what she was losing by staying with her partner. And instead of the normal response of, “that is really sad that your partner is not supporting you and you deserve to be treated better,” to a friend in growing distress, it seems like it was, “well I can give you all those things!!!! Right now!!!! Trust me!!!!” And worked on her until she believed it, and jumped at the chance at a precarious time in her life. And one thing I want to underscore is: Taylor has agency in the situation always, it’s not like she’s been kidnapped and brainwashed. (In fact, she implores on songs like “But Daddy” that SHE is in charge of her own choices, good or bad.) She chose to rekindle the friendship and then relationship, and she chose to eventually leave her long term relationship for another man, and she reiterates on the album that she owns this all. But it’s also: nothing exists in a vacuum, and she makes choices based on emotions and information she has at the time, which is why it gives so much whiplash.

THE ALBUM

When you look at it as, the situation with the conman only happens because of what happened with the partner first and that the appeal of the conman and the fantasy he sells her is a direct reaction to that, it makes the “swirliness” of the music make so much more sense. And for much of it, even many of the “conman” songs on the surface are really “partner” songs underneath.

Fortnight

A suburban gothic allegory about a broken marriage with a distant husband with a wandering eye, which makes the rekindled romance with the neighbor so appealing. She’s miserable caged in her stifling house because she’s been abandoned by her spouse, so the reappearance of this past love reignites the passion that’s dead at home.

TTPD

“So tell me, who else is gonna know me?” “I chose this cyclone with you.” I’m gonna kill myself if you ever leave. Everyone knows we’re crazy. She’s laying it out there that she’s already in a dangerous state of mind, and she’s actively putting herself in more danger by pursuing the conman. “At dinner you take my ring off my middle finger and put it on the one people put wedding rings on, and that’s the closest I’ve come to my heart exploding,” spells this whole thing out so clearly: whether it’s an actual event (likely) or a metaphor for the promise he makes to her, the reason why it makes her heart explode is because it’s the thing she’s been waiting for forever with no movement, and here this person comes in and slips it on her finger in an instant like it’s nothing. (And eventually, as we’ll come to know, it is absolutely nothing to him.) You mean it could have been this easy this whole time?! (Well, no. Not until a certain other suitor makes his appearance later.) It feels like she’s finally getting everything she wanted in the blink of an eye! How lucky! How convenient! What was that about the get-love-quick scheme you say? (Unsaid: the reason why this feels so urgent is because there’s a sense that time is running out in so many aspects of her life and not just the obvious. Which reappears later on.)

Down Bad

“Did you really beam me up in a cloud of sparkling dust just to do experiments on?” sets the scene for this euphoric experience in the moment that starts to feel violating once the dust settles (which is then followed up in “Smallest Man” and the spy mission on her). The bridge spells out how he weaselled his way into her life, preyed upon (intentionally or not) her emotional state, sold her a dream and then vanished, without the benefit of hindsight yet we see later in the album.

The alien abduction metaphor is pretty brilliant, because it shows both how she was desperate to escape the place she found herself in, and how much it screwed her brain to then be left stranded when the affair was over. “[I loved your] hostile takeovers, encounters closer and closer,” is so evocative because it details how the situation came to be: his overtures under the guise of friendship blurred lines until he made her an offer that she eventually couldn’t refuse (hostile takeovers) as he infiltrated her life more and more intimately. The sad thing is that the song has parallels to how her relationship with the partner started too in earlier albums, in that they ran away to live in their own bubble (or planet) only for him to metaphorically abandon her as the years went on. (Oven, meet microwave.)

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Being continually emotionally broken down by a person who knows he’s hurting you but still acts the way he does. (The original voice memo version makes this even clearer and it’s rather heartbreaking.) “He saw forever so he smashed it up,” speaks to the loss of a future the person became scared of, and the original lyrics (“he saw forever so he blew it up”) somehow cut even deeper to me because it feels so much more intentional.

Also in the original version, “he was my best friend and that was the worst part,” also speaks not only to the loss of an entire partnership in the wake of this hurt, but also to the feelings of betrayal that the person you trust so deeply has the ability to hurt you in this way too, and how it’s a one-two punch of not only losing the relationship but also your closest confidant. (It’s like the sequel to “Renegade” and the missiles firing to me.) Again, there are shades of both/many situations in the song, pointing to an unfortunate pattern in some ways. The situation in “My Boy” is part of why she was so low, and why the “get love quick scheme” was so appealing later on. And it dovetails nicely into…

So Long, London

The most explicitly “partner” song that puts a coda on “You’re Losing Me,” and is Track 5 because it’s the emotional underpinning of how she got to where she was, and drives the events of the rest of the album. It spells everything out: He withdrew, she tried to fix it for both of them, eventually even that stopped working, he was oblivious to or minimized how badly she was suffering and his (in)actions couldn’t reassure her, he wouldn’t move forward on their future plans and stewed in his own struggles, she was spiralling out of control trying to hang on and ultimately felt like she was going to die if she didn’t leave.

But Daddy I Love Him

Like a direct reaction to “So Long, London” in that she breaks free from the death of one relationship and throws herself with reckless abandon to the next, fuck the haters. How dare you judge me, when the relationship you think I should have stayed in was killing me? (Dutiful daughter all the plans were laid. All you want is gray for me.) Fuck all of you, I’m going to choose whoever I want! (So what if I have a baby with HIM, huh?! I tried doing it the proper way and look where that got me so now we're back to square one) It’s again her imagining how wonderful and freeing this “wild boy” is going to be for her, and how wrong she’ll prove everyone. THIS TIME she definitely got it right. So what if she has to run away! So what if she scandalizes the whole town! They don’t know what she really wants or needs anyway! She’s the only one of her (hee-hee-hee) and she’s the only who gets to decides how this goes. (Because: she longs for control in a situation she’ll eventually realize she has little of it in, which we’ll find out is a recurring theme in her life.)

Fresh Out The Slammer

Also spells out what happened with the partner in the first verse and the pre-choruses, which is what makes the conman so appealing as the imagined jailbreak. The bitter loneliness vs. the sultry passion she builds up in her head as she awaits her release from prison is key to understanding the two sides of the story in the album. There’s this whole outlaw imagery (which is also carried through in “I Can Fix Him”), but it’s contrasted in the end with her and her reunited lover sitting on park swings like children with “imaginary rings” — because “Ain't no way I'm gonna screw up now that I know what's at stake.” What’s at stake is lasting love and the promises that come with it (marriage/family) that are precious and time-sensitive. The imaginary rings are both a nod to the youthful dreams of her and her new/old lover, but also has a double meaning to me because those promises aren’t built on anything together; they're made up, intangible. (They’re no more concrete than the plans that went up in smoke with the partner.) Like with most of the conman situation, it’s all a fantasy in her head that has yet to happen, and as we find out later in the album, reality ends up leaving much to be desired.

Florida!!!

Broadly speaking, it’s running away from your problems and wanting to disappear from your life. (But again: the life she’s disappearing from is the cheating husband she may or may not be feeding to the swamp-- another miserable marriage.) What kind of flies under the radar though is the “I don’t want to exist,” line, which points to her dire state of mind that led her to fleeing to that metaphorical timeshare down in Destin. In many ways about cheating death.

Guilty As Sin

Yes it’s the “masturbation song,” but again the nuance is that she’s left to pleasure herself because her partner has abandoned her emotionally and even physically, i.e. “my boredom’s bone deep.” To be blunt: they aren’t even intimate anymore, so she starts fantasizing about the guy she used to have chemistry with who’s reentered her life and is making moves on her. And realizing that she’s now finding release in another man (albeit imaginary) breaks her even as it reinvigorates her because she finally understands that the relationship she’s in is effectively dead. (“Am I allowed to cry?”)

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me

This isn’t about relationships, but about society and its reaction to them in a general sense. But again, she’s left to stew in all this anger and hurt as she’s been abandoned at home, then abandoned by public opinion, and the public attack on her is part of the origin as well as the end of that story. The trauma inflicted upon her detailed in the song is the reason why she felt trapped in the first place, which led to the decisions she’s made and habits she’s leaned on ever since.

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

This is one of the few songs that is the most completely conman-coded, and shows when the delusion finally breaks at the end of the song. She spends the whole song being like, “no really, I alone can make him better! You’ll see! I know he’s gross, but he’s mine! It’ll be fine I swear! You don’t know anything! Uuuuuum hmm wait actually what the fuck—“

Loml

Oof. THE song. Again the surface reading is about the “conman” who comes in and sells her the lie, but the pain is because all the dreams she writes about are HER dreams and implied that they were the dreams she built with her partner that the conman sold back to her. I could do a deeper dive on this but most of the song is applicable to both relationships, which not only shows the “swirliness” of her writing, but also how they both ultimately did the same thing to her in different shades.

The bridge and the last chorus are kind of fundamental to understanding it all, and her ending it with “you’re the loss of my life” is about, among other things, how falling for this trap blew up the life she built and dreamed of for good. (I could talk about this one forever.) “You shit-talked me under the table, talking rings and talking cradles” to “Our field of dreams engulfed in fire” is a hell of a line and progression, and again, indicative of what the real driving force behind the whole album is. The shit-talking is because he took her dreams (of marriage and children) and hyped it back up to her tenfold whether in a moment of his own delusion or for more nefarious reasons — much like how the man prior kept promising these things but never followed through, which left her vulnerable to someone who appeared to offer them enthusiastically. The field of dreams isn’t just the one with the conman, it’s the one with the longterm relationship she’d built the dream with in the first place, because the conman’s actions are part of the reason the LTR went up in smoke. (Not the reason for the rift, but the consequence of the final break.) And THAT is why it’s the loss of her life, so completely.

When she says “I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all,” IMO it’s not just the fake future that the conman lures her into, but also (and perhaps mainly) the once-real one she had with her partner and the loss of which that made her susceptible to falling for the con in the first place. There’s honestly so much between the lines in this song that covers every theme and speaks to the grief of seeing the life she imagined slip away, slowly by the first man then annihilated by the second.

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

The juxtaposition of “He said he’d love me all his life, but that life was too short” and “He said he’d love me for all time, but that time was quite short” sums it up to me (and parallels “loml”), because they are two different situations, but they cut her just the same. In the first, “that life” IMO was the life they’d built with the dreams that went along with it and it was too short because he never followed through, and in the second, the “time” was quite short because it was the frenzy of the whirlwind romance that fizzled as quickly as it began. The life that was too short led to the time that was quite short.

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

This is definitely THE conman song. The rage, the shame, the violation, it’s all in there. But the key to it is the bridge and the espionage imagery woven through it. A honeypot scheme is when spies target a mark and seduce them to gain their trust and their privileged information for their homeland. So her likening him to a sleeper cell spy who set her up just to mine her deepest secrets and use them against her is a heavy, loaded statement. And implied: that valuable information she unknowingly held were her longings of marriage and family (the aforementioned shit-talking about rings and cradles she never got to have), and more importantly, those dreams preceded him reentering her life and then beginning his mission on her.

The insinuation then is: she confesses these are her deepest wishes which are now seemingly unattainable in her current situation (e.g. with her partner) -> he convinces her HE will give them to her and make the dreams she pines for come true -> she falls for him and blows up her life to make it happen -> he gets what he wants (thrill of the chase/sex/the idea of her/whatever his intent was) -> he abandons her when he gets what he wants, or rather it isn’t what he wants or can handle -> she’s left a) all alone b) with dreams unfulfilled c) with no answers d) feeling used at having her most sacred wishes used against her.

Again, the song is unquestionably about the way the conman absolutely destroyed her, but he was able to do that because there was this thing she wanted more than anything, that was dying in her previous relationship, that he was able to prey upon to seduce her, then discarded her and her dreams as soon as it was inconvenient for him while absolutely hollowing her inside out. (And again: the devastating thing is that this also applies to other relationships she’s written about, in different ways.)

The Alchemy

Not about either the partner or the conman directly, but it (loosely) touches on her finding herself after the whole oven-to-microwave experience and opening herself up to life and love again. #GoodForHer

Clara Bow

This isn’t about the romantic relationships on the surface, but it is about how damaging the entertainment industry and public life are on women, and how women are only valued for their beauty as commodities until they can be discarded and destroyed in the process. Which I think plays into the circumstances that led her to make the decisions that she did years ago, and why she makes the ones she does now. (But also, being valued for physical traits and appeal for the male gaze brings us to…)

The Manuscript

The “original sin” that kicks off all of this. Again, at first light this isn’t about the partner or the conman, but the person it is about is the reason why she has made all the decisions she has ever since in relationships (and that’s Mr. Plaid Shirt Days from “All Too Well”). The realization that her first serious adult relationship is what cemented these patterns, and this view of herself and her worthiness in relationships, is profoundly sad. An older man who valued her for being so mature for her age and implying that the mature activities ahem associated with that were the performance benchmarks in her ability to carry a relationship, only to leave her, was earth shattering. She placed her faith in this person, but then the way he treated her changed her view of love and of herself.

She took his innuendo about “pushing strollers” as a sign of potential commitment, whereas he ultimately meant it as foreplay, and she was too young and naive to know the difference. So not only did she learn from that that this man (and men) didn’t view commitment and family the way she did and that it was something to be toyed with, but she also learned that her value to them among other things was sex. Imagine being an idealistic 20 year old and your boyfriend ten years your senior tells you, “if the sex is anywhere near as good as our dates have been, we’re going to be making babies before you know it,” (e.g. this is relationship is serious) and then he dumps you: does that imply that the sex was not in fact that good? (E.g. that you’re not worthy after all?)

No, obviously from this side of life, it’s because he was a commitment-phobic playboy, even if he did love her, but she couldn’t have known that at 20 and instead internalized that shame. But, it did send her on a path of how she approached sex and love and relationships for over a decade afterwards. And her coming to the realization that that first act of (perhaps unintentional) manipulation is what informed her actions thereafter helped her break the pattern. Her worth to men is not just sex, she has value and her hopes and dreams have value, she doesn’t have to change into a different person to please anyone, because if that is what they want, they won’t ever want her anyway.

It’s been described here on Tumblr by people more eloquent and astute than I as a song that encapsulates the album as this: one did it slow (partner), one did it fast (conman), and one did it first (first love)— and that is haunting. After years of men minimizing her dreams and desires, if not outright using them against her, she’s finally at the point where she can let it all go and move on for good. (There’s a whole other tangent about consent and shame and manipulation, but that’s an entirely different kind of discussion. But it is so devastatingly contrasted with “you said if we had been closer in age maybe it would have been fine, and that made me want to die.”)

THE SUMMATION

This is just my interpretation of it, but in going through the standard album, it feels pretty clear how cohesive the album is about a story of love and loss and grief, then reckoning with what caused it all in the first place that set a person on this path. It’s a formative experience at a young age that was traumatic and led to certain coping mechanisms and a shaping of one’s self-perception, as well as the reaction to external pressures that try to dictate behaviours and influence how one feels one deserves out of love which makes it harder to know when one absolutely deserves more and better. And leaves one struggling to cope with loss when there isn’t anything else to hold onto. Then in light of one’s life blowing up, learning to find oneself in the aftermath all over again.

On another tangent that is somewhat related to the theme of loss, the way she writes about the two main muses on the standard album also ties into how the situations converged to create absolute carnage on her emotional and mental well-being. With one situation, she’s talking about a concrete life that crumbles under the weight of their struggles; with the other, the entire thing is a fantasy that she builds up in her head, and when it comes to fruition it falls far, far short.

If you look at the “microwave” (conman) relationship, you realize that almost everything she writes about it happens before it actually becomes reality, and it’s mostly her imagining how great it’ll be, but with few exceptions, when she writes about what actually occurred, it doesn’t even come close to living up to her expectations. “Fortnight” is an imagined future where she escapes to Florida and his touch finally starts her stalled engine (ahem). “TTPD” is perhaps the most positive retelling of their time together, but even that implies he was better off stoned and when he sobered up he succumbed to his demons all over again, and more importantly she conveys how she also is in extreme distress, barely concealed by the veneer of being infatuated with him. (E.g. saying to that she’ll kill herself if he ever leaves her — the implication is that she is absolutely serious about it when she “felt seen.”) And that the warning bells are going off in her head, but she feels like this person is the only one she can be with (because they’re equally fucked up and the chaos he brings into her life makes her feel alive when she felt so close to death).

“Down Bad” is the most explicit about being in love, but she’s also left completely confused and disoriented by him disappearing, wondering if any of it was real and the seeds of violation creep into her consciousness (“did you really beam me up in a cloud of sparkling dust just to do experiments on?” “Waking up in blood.”). “But Daddy” is her imagining she can tell everyone to fuck off for telling her what to do with her life. “Fresh Out The Slammer” is her fantasizing about this man while feeling trapped in her relationship — but never in the song is she actually reunited with him; she’s using him as the projection of all the things she’ll make right after being wronged by her partner. “Guilty As Sin?” Is very obviously about her fantasizing about sleeping with him, but again it’s such a minefield for her because it hasn’t happened yet; they’ve only just reconnected. “I Can Fix Him” is the only song other than “TTPD” that shows them actually together, and it’s the one where she keeps saying, essentially, “I know he’s gross but I can rehabilitate him into an upstanding person, trust me,” until the mic drop at the end of the song where it finally hits her that no, she can’t, because this is who he is, not the person she’s built him up to be.

“Loml” is when it all comes crashing down, and the song emphasizes everything he did and told her, e.g. that she’s the love of his life, but she doesn’t return the sentiment in the song about their time together. Because now that it’s past tense, she knows it wasn’t actually love. (And says as much in the album epilogue poem.) “Broken Heart” is her reeling in the aftermath, but again, it’s “he said,” not “I loved.” And then there’s “The Smallest Man,” where she eviscerates him: he also pursued an idea of her but didn’t care much for the real her in front of him (who else is gonna know me?), he love bombed her only to hurt her (crushing her dreams), he was constantly stoned (and not just in the funny munchies kind of way), and he wasn’t even a good lover (despite the fantasy she’d created before). That last point is especially striking because she spent albums singing about the importance of and pleasure in (sexual) intimacy in the relationship with her partner (sometimes to both their own detriment) and how it was at times the only way they could connect, but in this case, the idea she hyped up and acted on in her head about this lover never panned out in practice. She spells it out in the epilogue: it wasn’t a love affair, it was a mutual manic phase.

In contrast, there’s a lot more tangible action in the “oven” (partner) parts of the album, showing how hard she tried to make the relationship work in real life instead of just in her head. All of “So Long, London” is her detailing how she tried to break through to him and support him, even when he rejected it and pushed her away, thinking she could carry them both until they ultimately sank, but she did it because she “loved this place for so long.” (The place? Not just the city, but the home and perhaps most importantly, him.) In “Slammer” she stayed with him even as things disintegrated for “one hour of sunshine.” (E.g. holding onto the rarer good times even as they were fewer and further between, hoping things would eventually turn around.) And like in “London,” she held on despite people in her life pleading with her that it was hurting her. (Which is also echoed in “Slammer.”) In “Guilty” her boredom is “bone deep” because the passion that once drove their relationship (and papered over their problems) has finally gone out too, so there’s nothing left to hold onto, leading to her fantasizing about the new suitor, which makes her realize her relationship has passed the point of no return. “Loml” is about the conman on the surface, but the undercurrent of all the things she says about him is that he was co-opting the dreams that she was clinging onto for dear life in the previous relationship, which is why the con is so painful; the field of dreams he sets ablaze isn’t just the fake painting he sold to her, but the original artifact (her life with her partner) too.

All the physical and emotional labour she puts into the relationship with her partner ends up reflected in the fantasizing she does in the one with the conman, which is why it is so confusing in the moment and so lethal when he leaves her without any answers. She wants to get married and start a family with her partner which keeps getting stalled; the conman mock-proposes which makes her think he’s immediately serious (“TTPD,” “loml”). She feels caged by having to hide with her partner and shrink herself; the conman promises he’ll stand by her side publicly and let her shine (“Smallest Man”). She sinks into a deep depression in her loneliness as the relationship with her partner careens off a cliff; the conman convinces her they’re meant for each other in a them-against-the-world way (“Down Bad”). The intimacy (in all senses of the word) in her relationship with her partner fizzles; the conman stokes the fire by sending her secret messages and reigniting passion (“Guilty”). She spent years trying to help her partner to no avail; the conman makes her think she has the power to reform him (“loml”). She feels misunderstood by her partner; the conman acts like he’s the (only) one who truly gets her (“TTPD,” “loml”).

In short: there’s nothing that the conman does or says that isn’t a direct response to what her partner did first, and it’s even worse because the conman knew how much her partner’s actions hurt her and he used that privileged information to paint a picture of what he could give her, but in doing so in some ways aimed at her heart with even deadlier accuracy. (I’ve likened it to him borrowing someone else’s life for his own joyride, until he crashes the rental car and flees the scene.) It’s why in the aftermath, the difference in emotions are so different: she feels nothing but rage and violation towards the conman for getting in her head and using her, whereas her feelings towards her partner are more complicated. There’s anger (at her lost youth and being taken for granted), but there’s also sorrow (at their lost life and future), disappointment (that he never could step up the way he’d promised or she’d needed), even compassion (towards his struggles) and a tiny measure of appreciation (for the good times they did share).

When you look at the bigger picture, the story the album paints is just so painfully normal. You have two people (Taylor and her partner) who once loved each other deeply, and despite warning signs early on telling them they have fundamentally different needs and ways of living their lives they fight like hell to make it work (the epilogue) until those warning signs become grenades that destroy their home (“My Boy,” “London,” “Slammer,” arguably “loml”). Having already been through at least one rough patch/break/breakup that she felt almost destroyed her (harkening back to Midnights on “You’re Losing Me,” “The Great War” and “Hits Different”), the final and fatal downward spiral of the relationship (“YLM,” “London”) and the grief over losing that future sends her into a tailspin, just at the time where a flame from the past (the conman) reenters her life and tells her all the things she’s been longing to hear and feel (“TTPD,” “Down Bad,” “Guilty,” “loml”) and, crucially, missing from the relationship that was once her entire life.

So in her panic, she falls prey to the (empty) promises of the past lover (“loml,” “Smallest Man”) and decides he’s actually what will save her from the free fall, because the alternative (that she will end up in a situation she doesn’t think she can survive) is too painful to bear. When she finally acts on these circumstances (leaves her partner/runs to the conman), she snaps, acting on pure emotion and adrenaline (“But Daddy”), but before she knows it, the new lover abandons her, and she’s left to reckon with the fallout of the episode and process everything that has happened (“Down Bad,” “loml”) — with the conman, with her partner, with the choices made in her adult life personally and professionally which leads her back to the moment she feels set her down that road at the start.

The TL;DR of this unintentionally long essay is that the reason the conman affair was so serious was precisely because it was meant to fulfill the promise of what was her life with her partner. To me, a large part of the story is that she projected that life onto the conman (or he projected her life back to her for his own purposes) because she wasn’t ready to deal with that massive grief and the life raft he offered felt like the only alternative to an even darker end. Whether the conman actually believed what he told her, or he went along with it or encouraged it because it served his purpose, we’ll never know, just like we’ll never know the finer details of what went on (nor should we). But no matter what, the album is just an extreme deep dive into all the ways grief can consume us, and whether it’s a long, drawn-out death or a sudden, inexplicable one, it can turn a person’s life into such a trainwreck that they act in ways unfathomable to even them, let alone the people around them. It can also unleash repressed trauma and mental illness that can crater your sense of self. And when those situations are compounded? It makes for a nearly impossible type of breakdown to unpack. (Which is why you might need a 31 song album to process it.)

[destinysbounty]

There's a scene in the first episode of season 1 suggesting that as of the start of canon, the Serpentine have faded into nothing more than myth. Naturally, this has led a lot of the fandom to question how this could be possible since the Serpentine War only happened ~40-50 years ago. There are plenty of still-living people in Ninjago who were present for this war - hell, even Ed and Edna were probably alive during the war. How could the existence of the Serpentine, a race that has been around and at conflict with the humans for over a thousand years, suddenly blink out of public awareness in just 40 years?

After some consideration, I think I've come to a pretty simple answer, if you'll indulge me as I overanalyze the silly lego show once again.

In order to understand the situation, let's take a look at the scene in question one more time.

The key thing to note here is that out of the four, Kai is the only one who doubts the existence of the Serpentine. Jay, Cole, and Zane all treat the subject with a heavy amount of importance and trepidation (and a bit of fear). Zane even explicitly insists that they're real. In fact, correct me if I'm wrong but Kai is perhaps the only character in the entire show that we've seen expressing this kind of doubt about the Serpentine.

In my opinion, this means the Serpentine aren't just a myth and are instead a known part of Ninjago's history, and the belief that the Serpentine are a myth is a belief exclusive to Kai and Kai alone. Which...honestly feels pretty in-character for him, ngl.

(Why, then, are the Serpentine taught in schools but the ninja all somehow didn't know about the existence of other elemental masters? Great question! Unfortunately I cannot explain that without going on a long and rambling dissertation-length essay, and I don't have the brainpower to write all that. Long story short? Ninjago's education system is in fucking SHAMBLES and we shouldn't be surprised about any gaps in anyone's knowledge.)

[causeimhappinesss]

On his backseat (Joel Miller x reader)

Warning: smut, age gap (reader in her 20s), unprotected sex, slight breeding kink + wrap your biscuit, please

Disclaimer: English isn't my native language (I'm french), so you can correct me if you spot some mistakes :)

Bonus: a meme at the end

*

All day long, a crazy tension had built up between you and Joel, at first for a silly little thing, but he refused to agree with you, when you were absolutely right. Then, the tension had built up so much between the two of you, that it had metamorphosed and soon, the older man's hands had been wandering, though discreet.

“I'm going to go. I'm leaving you and don't kill each other!” Ellie joked.

With these words, she slammed the door of the car you had repaired and leaved the garage you had just entered. You would even say that she was running away from you, undoubtedly uncomfortable because of the tension that had gradually built up in the car, but which she probably didn't imagine would be sexual. From time to time, when Ellie was reading one of his comics, he had kept his hand on your thigh, which he stroked, knowing what effect it had on you. She had preferred to leave as soon as possible and give you time to explain yourself with Miller, while she rested in the house where you had taken up residence for two days, the time to search this cute town from top to bottom. Once she was inside the mansion, you turned your attention to your lover... Of course, Ellie didn't know the true nature of your relationship: friend by day, sexfriend by night.

"Well... would it kill you to admit I was right about that damn alarm?"

"You weren't right. We should have been more careful..." he growled.

"Oh yeah, sure, and spend three hours on an alarm system to disconnect it, when it doesn't even take us ten minutes to get all the weapons back." you retorted, sarcastically.

Miller grumbled, but the sound of it brought a smile to your face, because the old man always made you laugh one way or another. Then he met your eyes and a glint of mischief flashed in his eyes. You slid a hand over his chest and felt his heartbeat under your palm; a sensation you'll never forget. His lips parted, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes to know the moment. Your fingers slid over his warm skin in gentle caresses as you admired the masculine beauty of his body. Then your phalanges slid lower and traced the contours of his abs. A sigh escaped from his lips, which pushed you to unbuckle his seat belt, then the one holding his pants, which you made fall. Its excitation was felt, a bump formed in its boxer, that you touched with malice, before releasing it from this confined space.

A wave of heat ran through you as you wrapped your hand around his member, feeling the velvety texture of his skin. You began slow and gentle back and forth movements, under the spell of the intensity present in his eyes. Joel gasped, so that his hands clutched your hips as you increased the pressure in my movements. Your free hand explored the skin of his chest, then his thighs, until you felt his breath catch. You peppered him with kisses until his desire stretched like a bow.

"Baby..." he growled, sliding a hand into your hairline.

Your heart pounded against your rib cage as you knelt on the car seat, staring at your partner. Your fingers kept on caressing him skillfully, being the source of the accumulation of pleasure in his belly. Slight grunts broke through the barrier of his lips and made your hair stand on end. God knows how beautiful he was, that expression of desire portrayed on his face, eyebrows furrowed, sweat beading his gray brows. Again, you stared at his body, admiring his chiseled abs and broad chest, before lingering on the throbbing erection before you. Then, you wrapped his length in your wet mouth. You felt him harden further and moan in response to your movements, so much so that his hips undulated. Your tongue ran along his member, while your lips worked their magic around him. His hands tangled in your hair as you titillated him, encouraging his pleasure, so that he struggled to contain himself. Your tongue played with his red tip and his whole member throbbed in your mouth, as if he was already approaching orgasm. Yet you knew Joel wouldn't accept such a thing; he was always holding back to make you cum first.

"Fuck... You're going to drive me crazy..."

Soon, you could no longer contain your desire and you gave in to your desires. You climbed onto his thighs and felt the heat radiate between your boiling bodies. You undulated your hips over his boner and placed kisses on his neck, before you rubbed yourself on one of his muscular thighs. Your movements became frantic and desperate, as if the world was about to end another time.

The warm night air washed over your skin, but the coolness inside the car was gentle. Your heart was pounding, a delicious mixture of desire and fear... The fear of getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Joel wrapped his strong arms around your waist and pressed his lips to your neck. You moaned softly, your body aching deliciously from his touch. Your hands clutched at his shirt, pulling him to feel his body closer to yours. His lips follow yours in a fiery kiss. Electric sparks flew through you with each touch and caress.

Dizzy with desire, you pulled him into the backseat. His hands peeled away layers of you as you mimicked him between feverish kisses. Soon you were naked, on your knees, with your butt against him, giving him a magnificent view of your pussy. With his experienced fingers, he teased your clitoris, with which he played, while stroking your breasts. You were already wet and ready for him, but you felt no shame. Sex was one of the pleasures still present on this earth, especially when you were on the road like you. And your body knew full well that you were meant to fuck with him, it worked so well between the two of you... The pleasure climbed and your first moans of pleasure echoed through the cabin, as your fingers gripped the fabric of the backseat.

"Joel..."

He also knew what rhythm to take with your clit; he was playing with your emotions and your body. When he felt you on the verge of orgasm, he stopped and you squealed. Before you knew it, his warm tongue slid along your labia, drawing the contours of your clitoris, then one of his fingers brushed the entrance to your vagina. Another moan of pleasure forced its way through your lips and you nearly collapsed forward, but her strong arms held your thighs back.

"You taste like honey... I could eat your pussy all night..."

Your heart was pounding, banging against your ribcage violently, so you were begging him to make you reach nirvana. Without delay, the orgasm hit you full force, your legs shook and the euphoria poured into your veins in the form of powerful waves of shivers.

Then, with his hands on your hips, his cock pushed into you, drawing a moan of pleasure from you as he grunted. You were so tight and hot that he threw his head back for two seconds, his jaw clenched, and then he watched your two sexes joined together; an erotic sight that made him shudder. It was as if your pussy had been molded for his thick, long cock. A perfection he relished and enjoyed as often as possible. Finally, he moved inside you, a touch that filled you with more desire, made you quiver and tremble. Nothing else mattered at that moment; just you and the sweet union of your bodies. Your bodies moved together in perfect rhythm, the sound of your labored breaths filling the air of the car. The sound of wet skin slapping accompanied your song of pleasure, which you tried to restrain, to avoid Ellie from hearing you, just in case.

"Oh shit... Joel... Don't stop..."

"I don't plan on stopping..." he whispered in your ear, in a suave voice.

You held on to this moment and let his love consume you in your wholeness. You were enjoying the moment, knowing that it won't last forever. For now, you were loving the delicious sensation he was producing in your lower abdomen. His powerful hands, anchored on your waist, drew you closer to him, your back against his chest, in a carnal embrace.

Without ever ceasing his sinful movements inside me, his lips traveled the delicate skin of your neck, your faces illuminated by the moonlight, resulting in a romantic and intimate atmosphere...

"Fill me up... Don't pull out..." you moaned.

"Oh God..." he growled. He was aware that cumming inside you was a bad idea, it wasn't like you were taking birth control, but the idea of his cum filling your hot, wet pussy amplified his pleasure. He was already picturing you with a nice round belly once you got back to Tommy's.

The excitement of getting caught fed the burning fire in your veins. You made the moment last as long as possible, until you both climaxed with moans. Your pussy pulsed around his thick cock and milk him dry. Your heart was pounding, beads of sweat ran down your skin and you were shaking. His seed spilled into you as his hot breath rushed down your neck.

*

Sorry, Ellie... For the backseat you're gonna spend another bunch of hours on.

My Ko-fi: betrayedwriter

My AO3: BetrayedWriter

My Instagram: carolinemertz_

[pikahlua]

I mean at least with ochako, deku and shouto the author had them fight with the intention to try to save or understand himiko, tomura and touya. These characters were constructed under this little idea. But at the end none of them managed to do it and all the villains died as villains anyway and the ones that lived didn't change and afterwards the author decided to show a random kid being helped by an old lady as the proof of hero society changing or something. It felt cheap to me i guess.

"fight with the intention to try to save or understand himiko, tomura and touya" "But at the end none of them managed to do it"

...Do...do you really think they didn't manage to understand Himiko, Tomura, and Touya? Why? Why do you think that? I don't know how it could have been any clearer that understanding was achieved??

And I'm very concerned about this notion that "saving" these villains means they don't die and after surviving they completely change. Like, I'm sorry, but this confuses me the most about people who claim to be fans of the villains when they imply things like this. Think about what this would mean. Somehow these villains' grievances with society should have all been immediately and completely resolved and they change their tune like "Oops, guess I was wrong about everything ever! I love society now! Everything that happened to me was justified and I should never have complained! The heroes were right all along and I was just being silly! I will take steps for improving myself and rejoining this society that I used to hate because I mistakenly thought it wronged me!" Maybe that's not how you truly expected it to play out, but if Izuku, Ochako, and Shouto managed to talk-no-jutsu their villains in one go out of being villains, it would absolutely have come across that way. It would have been the message behind the culmination in Izuku and everyone "becoming the greatest heroes." It would have said yes, the status quo is good and correct, and people should just open up to the right people before they become villains and then they wouldn't be a problem for everybody.

What we get instead is the heroes coming to an understanding of what their villains' grievances are (again, why do you think this didn't happen?) and showing those villains that yes, there is at least one person in the world who understands them and wants to give them hope, that wants to make their lives easier. Tomura and Himiko both die with hope in their hearts. A piece of darkness inside each of the three of them is resolved by their respective heroes. Touya is granted his last wish to talk things out with his family before he dies. Himiko is faced with the question of incarceration or death, and she chooses death as a means of staying true to herself (i.e. her desire to never be caught, to live and die as she wants to). She also is able to live this new form of "love" in giving her blood to Ochako as she goes out. In destroying himself, Tomura also destroys the man who used him and was responsible for the existence of "that house" that represented all his trauma. Tomura also left a legacy for Spinner to continue in his absence and a question for Izuku to observe of society in the aftermath (which is why we see that moment with the old lady, who represented the legitimate grievance Tomura had with the society that failed to save him from AFO). All the villains maintain their LEGITIMATE grievances with society and refuse to bend to society's wishes, and thus their points, their ideals, their legacies live on. They endure within the hearts of others who are aggrieved by society, and they leave a stark impact on the heroes who couldn't change them. That's how we get Ochako dedicating her life to children's welfare. That's how we get Izuku telling all children they can be heroes whether or not they become pro heroes in the law enforcement system. That's how we get Shouto living a life where he can be and discover himself separate from the tainted legacy of his father. The lessons they take from their villains stay in their hearts forever because they are failures. Their failure was the point. They aren't perfect, they can't save everyone by themselves, they have to dedicate their lives to being the change society needs if they want to save more people, and their failures guide them in the directions where they can make that sort of impact.

Believe it or not, Crimson Riot says it best...

Yeah, that's right, the message has been prevalent in the story for a long time. It didn't come out of no where.

If the message feels cheap to you, I implore you (and EVERYONE) to engage in a thought exercise. Genuinely, try to imagine that someone in the world other than you finds the message of this story as not cheap but as earnest and meaningful and robust. Now imagine why this person would think that. What evidence is there in the manga that they would use to support it? What meaning would they derive from this ending? Try to understand the opposite point of view. Try to honestly engage with the text in this way. Horikoshi devoted a decade of his life to telling this story. Sure, some of it probably suffered from bad editing and weird changes due to elongating the story at times. It was a big story with a giant cast, and that can be a lot for any one person to manage perfectly over the course of 10 years. Maybe there are parts of the story that aren't as tight or clean as they could be. But, in good faith, please try to imagine WHY Horikoshi felt this story needed to be told. Try to imagine what message Horikoshi wanted to convey that matters to him. Don't just dismiss the ending out of hand because it doesn't immediately click for you. I think it's great you asked me about it, and I hope my answer gives you more to think about.

[jpitha]

The Gods Among us

It is not unusual to have Gods.

Most - if not all - of the sapient races did at one time or another.

What is unusual however, is how completely the humans kept their gods.

Don’t get it confused. There is not one human religion.

There are millions.

There are atheists who worship no gods and think the whole thing is rather silly, monotheists who worship one and only one god and get sniffy about all the others, and people who worship a whole pantheon of gods of all different shapes, sizes and colors.

People who worship nature.

People who worship their ancestors.

People who worship their system’s star.

Humans are unique in their belief though. They bring their gods with them. I mean this figuratively of course. But... also literally. Humans will talk about how their gods follow them, and come along - sometimes to help, sometimes not. They speak of them as if they're right there with them.

And friends, I swear I’ve seen them too.

One time, we were between the stars and our FlashWarp drive failed. I don't know the details behind the why of it, I was onboard as a passenger. We were two days without our drive and thoroughly stuck.

On this trip, quite a few of the passengers were human. I had seen them before in passing, but never up close before. Short and stout, their bodies shouted their origin. A dangerous, difficult, high gravity world. They were strong and clever and built to survive.

Some carried little trinkets and charms too. Little pieces of metal, or plastic in small shapes. During the evening meal, I had asked one of them about it, and they had mentioned that it was a sign of their religion.

"Religion? As in worshiping the supernatural?"

"Well, technically, I suppose. It's much more personal for me than something academic sounding like that." They smiled and used their delicate digits to manipulate the little charm while they spoke. "Humanity has had religion a long, long time. I understand that many Confederation races had it too at one point, but most decided to put it away as they ventured out into space, correct?"

I nodded. It was fascinating to hear the conversation. I had never spoken with a human this much before. Her accent was impeccable and her voice was like music. Did all humans sound like this?

She continued. "Humans - those who Believe - bring that with them in what they do, who they are. That's not to say that Atheists are bad or wrong, or people who follow different gods are bad or wrong either. The galaxy is large enough for everyone, right?" I nodded, trying to follow her logic. "But in a galaxy as large as this, I believe that there is more to existence than meets the eye." Her eyes twinkled as she spoke.

While we were speaking, another human walked by. Tall for them, male shaped, with broad shoulders, and quite a lot of facial hair - beards is what they called them I believe. His facial hair was neatly trimmed and oiled. As he walked by I could smell it. I couldn't place the scent. Resinous though, natural. It was nice.

As he walked by, he glanced down at Meredith, he saw her fingering her little charm - it was two straight pieces of metal crossed near the top, one smaller than the other - and smiled.

I looked up at him. We met eyes - Meredith didn't notice him - and he closed one eye quickly and then opened it again. I think it's called... a wink? It's one of those gestures humans do that's full of nuance. It's hard for most translators to understand it.

Just as quickly as it began, the interaction was over. He continued on with long purposeful strides towards the rear of the ship, where Engineering and the FlashWarp modules were.

Later that day, there was an announcement from the Captain that the drive was repaired and we could continue to warp to our destination. We would work hard to make up for lost time, but that we would probably be a demi cycle behind. Apologies were offered, discounts on future travel given out, but mostly everyone was happy we weren't stranded anymore.

A rumor started on the ship however. While the engineers had the drive apart and were struggling with why it had failed, a human had walked into Engineering, looking around as if they belonged there, approached the FlashWarp module and stared at it for a moment.

When confronted and asked what he was doing, he replied in perfect Maligran - the language of the engineers working that time - "Have you checked the outer compensator? It looks cracked to me." and then did that motion with one of his eyes - closing and opening the lid quickly - and left.

The engineers, with nothing else left to try checked the outer compensator. It was impossible to see with an unaided eye, but they scanned it and sure enough, it was cracked. Just enough to prevent the FlashWarp seed field from forming. They had a spare on hand, replaced it, and were up and running almost immediately.

The next morning, I sought out Meredith at the morning meal. I asked her if she knew the human that had walked in, pointed out the error and left.

"What did he look like?"

I described him as best as I could, as well as the scent I noticed.

She nodded sagely. "That was probably Saint Eligius, patron saint of mechanical engineers."

My fur puffed out involuntarily. "A religious figure?"

She nodded and took a sip of coffee. "A minor one, but one nonetheless."

"And you're not surprised by this?"

"On the contrary, I'm pleased to hear that my prayers were answered."

"You... prayed for him?"

"Not him specifically, but I did ask for help."

I sat down at the table heavily. It seemed impossible that a human saint had walked by - had winked at me - and yet...

"Meredith, can you tell me more about your religion?"

[velvetvexations]

Mother Velvet I just saw someone being very wrong about transandrophobia and I am being soooooo strong by resisting my desire to message them with a correction. I want, very badly, to (gently) correct their misunderstanding of what transandrophobia is and what people are actually arguing for. Unfortunately I am also of the knowledge that this is probably not a misunderstanding and that they would not listen to anything I say, and that even a gentle "hey that's not what people talking about transandrophobia are saying, that's not the conversation being had" would cause an argument that does more damage to me than just seeing them be wrong in the first place.

I want to say, no, transandrophobia isn't about men being the PRIMARY target of misogyny, that's not what we're saying! I won't say nobody is saying that because someone inevitably will have bad ideas about things, but the broad conversation around transandrophobia is that transphobes see us as women trying to be men and treating us with both misogyny (for being a woman incorrectly, and just having been born female to begin with), and malgendering us (for the crime of trying to be men, which is ontologically impossible for a silly wombyn to do and therefore must be corrected by showing that Dumb Idiot Baby Girl how impossible it is to ever really be a man). It is not, really, seriously not, about how transmascs are the real primary target of misogyny and everyone else is just collateral. It is not us wanting to be the victim, or wanting to barge into marginalized spaces and control the conversation to make it All About Men. It is not trying to argue that misandry is a systemic force. It is not equivalent to being an MRA blaming feminism for the suffering of men.

People talk a lot about how transmascs have a "toxic masculinity problem" and think that it's, like, some inherent aspect of being a man, or that we're trying so hard to be men that we uncritically repeat and reinforce toxic masculinity. As if trans people of all stripes aren't forced to perform the highest standards of their gender in order to be recognized as their gender, as if it's somehow unheard of for trans men to be forced to perform the height of masculinity in order to be recognized as men. Trans men are held to a higher standard of masculinity than cis men because we have to prove to the transphobe that we're "real" men! Cis men already have to perform masculinity to an extreme degree under threat of degendering, do people think that just doesn't exist for trans men? That it isn't worse for us (compared to the cis man) because degendering is misgendering and we have to fight tooth and nail for every shred of recognition as men? The only problem people are willing to accept transmascs have is the toxic masculinity issue, and that is at best seen as a very bad personal failing (and at worst an inherent aspect of Being A Man, and so also a personal failing for anyone who would "want" to be a man; the thought, even from other trans people, is that we "chose" this and so it's the bed we must lie in). Because we are men, because men have no problems, because transmascs trying to discuss their experiences with misogyny are just trying to take from women, trying to control the conversation and deny the reality that others are targeted too.

The idea that transandrophobia is saying we're the primary targets of misogyny is wrong, and I'm being so restrained by not saying anything to that person, not trying to correct them, because even though it's eating me up inside I would be even more hurt by whatever they say to dig in their heels as a response to me. (I sincerely hate that my autism will not let me let go of this stuff! I wish it would stop and that I could see people have Different or even Factually Wrong Opinions about the world without feeling personally betrayed but here I fucking am I guess; this isn't the first time I've come to your inbox to vent about it, I don't have anywhere to talk about these feelings so all I have been able to do with them is suffer through them until I can shove them into the little box in the back of my brain and hope I don't get intrusive reminders of them)

Y'know, I've experienced a lot of transphobic violence, from the emotional to physical. I was kicked out of my home by family members. I had to fight to be accepted as I am, and still have to fight because I don't pass, can't bind my GGG-cup breasts for medical reasons, am too disabled, too short, too mentally ill, too autistic. I was prepared for that, I knew I would be fighting an uphill battle. Trauma doesn't work right for me, I don't find stuff traumatic that should be, and do find stuff traumatic that shouldn't be; because I was prepared, because I knew what I was getting into and knew I would be happier as a man anyway, I have not been traumatized by the transphobia I have faced.

What I was not prepared for, what has stuck with me longer and hurt me more than being thrown out of my own home or threatened or beaten, was how other trans people treated me. How alone I was in a support club for the trans community at my university, in a class about trans art with nothing to show for trans men but boys don't cry and a drag race supercut from the professor's boyfriend, being told I was the wrong kind of trans for the community around me, that nobody knew what to do with me, and treated me like I was an invader desecrating some sacred soil.

In trying to talk about my suffering, I am taking up valuable space that could be given to someone else, someone who is not a man. In talking about the issues I have faced within the trans community, I am attacking trans women, trying to steal misogyny and claim I'm the primary target. It doesn't matter what I say, how gently I try to correct them, how much proof I have that those are not the conversations or goals of discussion, because that's what they want to believe about transmascs. That's the vision of transandrophobia they have. There is no way for me to change the mind of someone who willfully misinterprets what I'm saying.

I'll at least put this in the tag this so people can see it. <3

Transandrophobes are constantly assuming the most bad faith interpretations of what's being said and it's so exhausting even to observe. They're unthinking zombies reblogging second-hand shit about terms they have zero understanding of. It's infuriating just to observe let alone experience first hand.

[thescarletnargacuga]

If i may make a suggestion, human AU sickfic, maybe?

A/N: poor hoomans

THE FLU

A HUMAN AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

WARNING: none

~~~

Pomni coughed into her millionth tissue. She'd been diagnosed with influenza, and nearly bedridden all week. Her throat burned with fury of a California wildfire while she could barely breathe through her runny nose. She ran a fever off and on, causing body wide aches and fatigue. She barely ate anything out of lack of appetite, not helping her energy levels.

Thankfully, she had a TV in her room and her phone so she had all the entertainment in the world at her fingertips. She binged show after show while she struggled to sleep.

Caine insisted she have the master bedroom to herself while sick. He wasn't worried about exposure, but her coughing was keeping him up at night with worry so he slept on the couch in the living room so he could get sleep and go to work. He texted her often about how she was doing, did she need anything while he was out, telling her when he would be home, etc.

Bubble could sense that his human was not okay and would spend the entire day chilling with her in bed. It's the calmest he's ever been. When he wasn't chewing on his toy, he was cuddling with Pomni and getting so many pets. It was the best.

Pomni laid against her high wedge pillow, watching her shows when Caine came in. He was still in his work suit, carrying some tea and a large shopping bag. "Hello, my dear. Did you get much rest today?"

"Meh...kind of." Pomni grumbled, her voice was rough from all the coughing. "Bubble and I have been binging Bridgerton. Have you seen it? It's pretty good."

"Heard of it, but haven't seen it myself." Caine set the hot cup of tea on the nightstand next to Pomni, shuffling a few pill bottles and cough drops out of the way. "Made you some chamomile tea. I added that vitamin C powder we got from the pharmacy, help your immune system a bit."

"Thank you." Pomni smiled through the fatigue. "What's in the bag?"

"I bought you a few things." He pulled out a big box of tissues. "You've been going through these by the box, so I got the biggest one they sold."

Pomni almost laughed. "Only one?"

"Nope. There are sixteen more in the hallway closet."

"I stand corrected."

"I also got," Caine pulled out another big box. "This jumbo pack of snack cakes. Apple cinnamon, your favorite."

"Aw, Caine, thank-"

"BUT WAIT! There's more! I got this really nice smelling massage oil. I can rub out those sore spots for you, if you'll let me." He winked.

Pomni laughed, coughing a little. "Only if you promise to just give me a back rub. I don't have the energy for hanky panky."

"Promise, love. Oh!" He set the bottle of oil in Pomni's lap with the snack box. "I also found this mini gator plush! Look at 'im!" He put a hand sized sitting gator plush in Pomni's lap.

She cooed over the little gator. "Oh my god, he's so cute!"

"Smell him! He's scented! Pineapple and Lime, I believe." Caine double checked the tag.

"Caine... I don't have a sense of smell right now."

"Oh yeah, well you can smell them later, because I have something else for you!"

"How many things do you have in that magician's bag of yours??" She was smiling more than she had all week. He was being silly for her sake and she loved him for it.

"Just one more thing." Caine searched the bag but I was empty. "Huh...that's strange. Where did I put it?" He felt his various suit pockets.

"What did you lose?"

"Oh wait, silly me. It wouldn't fit in the bag."

Pomni's eyes widened. "Caine...what did you buy?"

"It doesn't have a price tag." He gave Pomni a cheeky smile and kissed her forehead. "It's all my love for you."

"You're such a dork. I love you." She hugged him.

"I love you more. More and more each day." He kissed the top of her head. "I'm gonna need you to get better soon. I miss kissing those lips of yours."

"I'm working on it. Flu season is rough this year. Wanna watch Bridgerton with me?"

"Absolutely." Caine started changing into more casual clothes.

Pomni caught Bubble trying to sneak a bite at her new Gummy Gator plush. She snatched it away. "No! Destroy your own toys. This one's mine."

Bubble whined and begged for the plush, despite the fact that his own toy was literally right next to him. Pomni distracted him with belly rubs and he forgot all about the new plush.

After Caine was changed and grabbed his own drink, he joined Pomni on the bed and settled to watch TV. He held her close with an arm over her shoulders. She leaned on him but had to blow her nose often to not drip nose goo on him.

Despite Pomni being sick, being with her and relaxing after a long day was the best thing in the world to Caine.

[connorsnothereeither]

How do you make Virgils boards, is there a system or do you just like go ham? I find them very neat and am curious

(idk if this has been asked before but if it has i couldn't find it so-)

I don’t think it’s been asked but I would LOVE to ramble about it omg for sure-

It’s sort of a mix of both! I have the advantage of like,,, Virgil canonically thinks the way I think, when it comes to connecting dots, so it’s sort of just a visual representation of my brain and how I picture the lore, lol. In terms of a “process” though:

I tend to start with a list of important plot points, bits of information, and character details Virgil does know. And obviously most of the time, it’s a a bunch of questions that he’s asking, which I’ve woven those into

From there, I make a list of assumptions Virgil makes based off those facts. Sometimes those are correct assumptions that I know are right because they’re planned lore. Sometimes they’re things that I’m spitballing because we haven’t landed on an actual answer, and it’s sort of like,,, testing the waters with an idea I think is fun, but that might not be canon. Sometimes, my favourite, they’re just completely bullshit assumptions that make sense but are so wild and silly, either for the comedic effect or as a red herring.

Once I’ve got all of those, I do just sort of go ham sketching them out! I tend to cluster them based on vibe and theme, so it looks like an evolution of thought. Here is this idea, here is this idea that relates to it, kinda thing. I also try to make sure that there’s a drawing or diagram per cluster of information, to add more visual interest! I tend to shuffle things around once they're drawn out, trying to see what fits best where, the sizing of things, and whats like, an appropriate connection/space for things to go! (for example in the upcoming draft of the board, I had to decide if i put the section on Luxtant near Avianism, near the Avicane, near the Sorcerers, or near Vast and Rune!)

Also before I do the line art, I tend to add the strings on a seperate layer to test the placement! actually connecting things with the red string is less important to me then how it looks visually. I want “main things,” whether it’s drawings or notes, to be visible. Like I try my best to not have string lines being directly over the top of people, or important concepts! You can for example in the current board in Virgil’s office that like,,, the note about Kalia isn’t covered, or the pictures of Vast and Pietro, but things like random questions about Viviana are covered by strings, because they’re less important to notice upon first glance. It’s a lot of finding a way to use the strings to draw the eyes in places I want them to go.

Then the last step of the process is line art and colouring and finalising placement :D

That all makes it sound like it’s a properly like, thought out process but honestly it’s a big mess of back and forth editing and scribbling and deciding last minute to add things to fill up space and just hope things turn out looking okay lol! But I have a lot of fun with it, Virgil and his investigations and investigative process (especially upcoming with things like Void Sickness) are very fun to play out 🫶

[labyrinthofsphinx]

So the accused freeloader is Drift as a human? Interesting if so! Does Alastor visit Drift once in hell, or is this a full on human AU and Vox and Alastor aren’t bitter divorced exes in the afterlife? (Don’t mind me stumbling on this blog and loving it so much I’ve now bingedall of the murder partners turned murder family)

(Also I’ll die on the hill that Vox and Alastor have bitter divorced husband energy in Episode 2 and 8 of HH)

DING DING!! We have a Winner folks!!! I’m so glad your enjoying it btw <333

But yes! That’s my boy, Drift! In Murder Partners, almost everybody from the main cast is human and lives in a ~1930-1940s world together (though I play fast and loose with some history details). We will eventually get to just about everyone. That said, Hell still exists there, though different because of the absence felt by these characters. Now, if they're born in hell or obviously in hell for a reason, they're still in Hell. That doesn't mean they won't show up eventually, especially since I love my horror aspects ;)

Technically, Murder Partners does have a 'ending' that has to do with the afterlife but absolutely no spoilers!! :)))

There are some differences between the personality of characters, like Drift for example (Yes, he gets smaller in Hell XD):

Most of the difference is explained by their experiences and how much of a support system they have and when they got it in life. "Drift" of Murder Partners is a lot more likely to be rude to your face, and generally hostile because, well, he's had a rough childhood and has had to fend for himself the whole time. Drift of the main story is a lot more like the kid who just wants to keep their head down in highschool. Everybody in Hell is bigger and meaner than him. That said, his personality really shines when he's among friends or is just so done with something that he stops caring about consequences.

As for Vox and Al from Murder Partners, well, their personalities are a lot more like how they are in Habzin when they're alone. Vox is nice for the cameras and for the people he cares about, but make no mistake, he is very smart, very manipulative, and there's a reason he's on top of the world. Same with Al. When they're around each other and their friends, they're like how we see them, mostly. You could say they're more comfortable being 'vulnerable'. They bring out the 'best' in each other, and knowing the other has made them a 'better person' (I use the term very lightly).

If you want to see more of these guys from the main, check out my fic Statistical Outliers where Vox meets the kid for the first time and hijinks happen ;)

TLDR: You are correct, that is Drift! Thank you for enjoying my silly AU <333 Here, have a cookie! :DDD

[wellmetmat]

There's a post from a couple of years ago which I was reminded of and wanted to add to today, about nobody wanting to take the supplicant role in courtship, but it's unrebloggable due to some constraint the OP put on it, so I'll just quote my bit:

Being attracted to someone is distressing. I think the largest part of it is hunger to know someone (?); but when you can’t get to know them well, it ends up a stunted obsession: all that drive-to-know - enough to build a deep, detailed model of another personality - chewing over scraps of phrases and trivial actions, until you’re snappishly bored with your own mind. Your skin feels hungry and there’s nothing you can do about it: “touch starvation” is a phrase that comes to mind. The person’s absence and their presence both hurt: absence obviously, presence because once you’re there you find that there’s still distance, you still miss them. It’s rather like homesickness. Courting someone is wretched. It’s frightening and humiliating and full of agonising waiting periods and jarring mood switchbacks. It feels something like being dragged along on a fishhook, with the line attached to another person’s little finger. Liking someone more than they like you is a position of low power. The incentives are to be servile. You have nothing to bargain with: whatever they decide, you agree to with a smile. You always try to sound happy, because that’s what’s most appealing. You give up on areas of confusion instead of trying to understand, because asking questions annoys people and any annoying act pushes you closer to the cliff-edge of losing them. Any small disagreement feels like a large risk, so you distort your own opinions a bit. You can’t be spontaneous; your inner voice is always tallying accounts: how many days since the last message, too few, you mustn’t bother them yet / how many days since you came up with something interesting, too many, they may forget; don’t intrude so much, but simultaneously what have you done for them lately, how can you provide value to justify remaining in their life. It seems bad that we’re like this. I don’t imagine humans are especially badly formed or anything, it’s probably just as subjectively rotten for every animal that does courtship displays. But if anyone eventually makes robots with emotion-like motivational systems, they shouldn’t include anything like attraction. It’s so silly.

I feel like resurrecting this today to celebrate being out of it. In the last two weeks, somebody has given me the double gifts of liking me and of having the generosity to say so, and show so. All I want to do is be glad and be grateful, and try never to cause this person to experience anything described above.

But I stand by the description, it is a correct description, and we are so badly made it is infuriating. @nohoperadio's good post on the tragic stupidity of pain incidentally also works as a discourse on eros: if there'd been any intelligence involved in the design process, distress signals would come with an off-switch! (Hence my blog tagline.) But instead, evolution is a pitiless idiot, love is humiliation, nonviable attachments take years to starve to death, and there is no moral of the story. Absurd. A baboon could design a better emotional constitution.

Delightfully, this week ACX introduced David Pearce ("For centuries, philosophers have praised suffering as a necessary part of the human condition. For decades, David Pearce has told those other philosophers that they are bad and wrong"), who is doing his best to make a better emotional constitution available, and I approve of such a project so highly that it's been necessary to stack new levels of approval above my previous maximum to encompass how right he is. It's really exciting that any intelligent and active person considers progress of this sort possible and is working on it.